As the lights in his face vanish, Sylar tries in vain to blink the afterimages out of his stinging eyes. Just seconds later, though, there are the noisy footsteps of Sam's arrival and a wrenching, blinding pressure, as if something is reaching in through the back of his skull and groping around to dislodge him.

It doesn't take a genius to work out what's going on.

Sylar swears, his breath rasping in his throat, and clings to Jubilee's body with every shred of will he can possibly muster. Then, temporarily entirely solid, he aims an angry, desperate punch at the place where he judges Sam to be from what shapes he can see and the sound of the man's entry.