Xander Vs Sylar II

"Enough with these futile tricks; face me like a man!" Sylar's frustrated roar echoed through the hallway.

His hands waved aggressively as I transitioned, sending locker doors hurtling towards me, turning the place into a chaotic storm of flying metal.

Retreating backward, I watched with a furrowed brow as Sylar, driven to annoyance, unleashed his wrath upon the surroundings.

Entire locker units and even parts of the walls were flung in all directions, causing cracks to snake along the walls and the entire corridor to tremble.

"Come out!" he bellowed impatiently, a scowl etched on his face, his eyes scanning the wreckage-strewn hallway.

A few minutes had passed since I steeled myself to put my theory to the practical test.

I employed guerrilla tactics, striking his blind spots and vanishing before he could retaliate.

The plan was to wear him down, irritate him enough to force a mistake, and seize the opportunity to either stab or shoot him in the gut.

And it was working flawlessly. All I had to do now was to keep it up and wait for the right moment...

A wicked smile crept across my face as I floated closer to him. Just as I was about to deactivate my power, I froze in surprise. A man rushed into the hallway from Sylar's side, near the wallpapered section.

He was a tall, handsome man with blackish brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly pale oval face with thin, red lips.

Dressed in a brown jacket over a white shirt, brown trousers, and brown shoes, he sported a watch on his wrist.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene. Sylar turned to face him, and I realized this guy was in grave danger.

Instinctively, I opened my mouth to warn him, though I knew it wouldn't make a difference, but Sylar was quicker.

With a flick of his wrist, ten large glass shards surged from the ground, hurtling toward the man like speeding bullets.

A chance!

My concern for the man faded the instant I saw Sylar attack him. In the blink of an eye, I sped behind Sylar, canceled my power, and with all the strength in my right hand, thrust the knife towards his heart.

In a fraction of a second, Sylar managed to shift his boy, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow as the blade sank deep into his gut.

"Aarrgh!" Sylar howled in pain, arching his back forward, while the man he had attacked collapsed to the ground. Before I could retrieve the blade, Sylar backhanded me.

The impact felt like getting hit by a freight train, and my body rocketed, colliding with the unforgiving wall.

Gasping for air, my ears rang, my back throbbed with agony as if stones had been smashed against it, and the sharp sting of my wounds intensified.

My vision blurred, and it was as if someone had hammered my head into the wall, leaving me dizzy and with excruciating headaches.

This was bad. What should I do now? I'd lost my weapons when he threw me, and my body was in shambles. I had one knife left in my pocket, but my sorry state made it impossible to use it.

Escape was the only option. Although I hadn't managed to kill him, I had inflicted severe injuries.

He would either bleed out and die on his own or be finished off by the authorities, assuming Claire had made that call.

I'd done all I could; now it was time to go. But first, I needed to let the pounding headache subside a bit, or I wouldn't be able to concentrate and use my power.

Sylar's faint exclamation reached my ears as I struggled to focus. My blurry vision revealed him removing the knife, causing a gush of crimson blood to spatter onto the floor, filling the air with the metallic scent of iron.

He dragged his wounded body closer, applying pressure to the wound while blood oozed through his fingers, leaving a trail behind him.

"You're the first person to ever harm me like this, Xander," he uttered weakly, a mix of anger, hatred, and fear contorting his face. "The very first. And for that, I'm going to make sure you suffer before I take your power."

As he inched closer, I clenched my teeth and forced myself to sit up, despite my body's protest. My headache intensified, but I had to summon every ounce of willpower to face him.

He paused, a few meters away from me, afraid to get closer, and pointed the knife at me, pushing my back and head against the wall telekinatically.

"You...are wasting your own time Sylar. By the...time you're done with...me, you'd have bled out. There's still...time for you to leave." rasped with a series of coughs.

My head remained fixed against the wall like it was glued, and I gazed into Sylar's drooping eyes and pallid face as he struggled to breathe.

The blurriness in my vision was receding, and I prepared to activate my power.

He froze, realization dawning, his eyes dropping to his wound as blood seeped through his fingers and stained the ground.

"You might be right, Xander," he conceded, raising his head to meet my gaze. "But I'll take my chances." A maniacal grin crossed his face, and he gestured menacingly with his knife.

In that very moment, I activated my power.

Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air, and Sylar froze, his wide eyes locked on his chest where blood seeped from a gunshot wound.

I strained to turn and look behind Sylar, and my mouth fell open in shock when I saw the shooter.

It was Claire!

"Ugh!" Groaning in pain, Sylar dropped his knife and bolted towards the other hallway on my right with surprising speed, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Claire, standing in the midst of the wrecked hallway, was initially frozen in shock. The gun laid before her, and she snapped out of her stupor, her terror-stricken eyes scanning the battered corridor as if searching for someone—most likely me.

As my powers faded and the blinding headache intensified, I settled onto the bloody floor, wincing in pain. I propped my head against the wall for support.

"Xander!" Claire's horrified cry reached my ears, and she rushed towards me.

Reaching my side, she dropped to her knees and shielded my battered body with her own. She sobbed onto my chest, disregarding the blood staining it as her lavender perfume wafted into my nose.

"Xander, I'm so sorry," she apologized, tears glistening in her grey eyes. A pitiful look filled her face, and her forehead bore smudges of my blood. She raised her head to meet my gaze.

Observing her like this, my eyes widened, and I tried to speak, but the shock of what had just transpired left me speechless.

She had shot Sylar, potentially ending his life, all for my sake. Claire, someone who couldn't bear to see an animal in pain, had just taken a life-threatening action for me.

The surrealness of the situation rendered me incapable of responding.

"Oh my God, what am I even doing? You must be in pain," she realized, her eyes lighting up with understanding. "Here, lie down for a bit. I've called the police, so help should be on its way." She shifted her body, lowering my throbbing head onto her smooth thighs.

Breaking free from my shock, I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Claire. I guess I owe you one now," I quipped, despite a cough wracking my body.

She offered a wry smile, wiping away her tears with the white sleeves of her shell.

"I—" Claire began to retort but halted abruptly. She turned her head and scanned the battered hallway, her brow furrowing in concern.

Following her gaze, I raised my eyebrows as the man Sylar had practically skewered with glass shards groggily pulled himself up from the floor.

He groaned and shook his head, peering down at his chest, which had been impaled by the large glass shards.

To my astonishment, they started trembling, slowly working their way out of the man's chest and shattering into smaller pieces on the floor, as if they'd been puked out by his body. Incredibly, the wounds closed up without leaving a trace.

Did he just heal himself?

The man's face mirrored his own disbelief as he looked up, his eyes widening almost to the point of popping out of their sockets when he spotted us.

"Oh my God, are you guys alright!?" he exclaimed emotionally, his smooth voice trembling with concern. He rushed toward us.

As he drew nearer, I scrutinized his features and his overall appearance. Something clicked in my mind as the events of the day rushed back into my memory.

"...This guy, he's the first person I met when you told me to get up," Claire began muttering in shock. "He asked me what was wrong when he stopped me and when I told him you're in danger, he just rushed towards here without even allowing me to warn him.

"I didn't even recognize him as the dead man on the floor. Because of me...he nearly die—no he died." She ended on a somber note, crestfallen.

"No, it's not your fault. Even if you warned him, he would've come anyway." I shook my head and said to her with a wry smile, my attention on the man as he drew near.

I remembered who he was now. He was Peter Petrelli, the main character of the show. The man with the biggest hero complex of all time...