(no subject)

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

There's a flash and a bang and a very confused man with ridiculous hair appears, hovering a few feet above the rubble of a destroyed parking lot.

Hey, when you can cast illusions, you don't need a comb.

"...The hell?" Sylar starts to say, and before he's quite done with the sentence it's President Nathan Petrelli who's making the quizzical exclamation to empty air, settling gently to the ground.

You can never be too careful.

Comments

[broked-reality.livejournal.com]

At one point, there's a shifting stream of gold mist, and then Sam's sitting cross-legged below Sylar, peering up at him.

[waylostandfound.livejournal.com]

Now I'm the real Nathan Petrelli, all you other Petrellis are just illusionating.
So won't the real Nathan Petrelli please fly around, please fly around?

Oh look, he is! Shooting across the sky, leaving a contrail on one of his aerial surveys of the region.

Has he noticed the hovering man over the parking lot?

Or bigger news, has the hovering man noticed him?

[eureka-bell.livejournal.com]

The narration is sure it has made this joke before, but:

Is it a bird?

Is it a plane?!

NO!

It's a Canadian kid on a jetpack! A far more common sight, to be sure.

It affords him a pretty good vantage point from which to spot Sylar. There is, he has to admit, a little bit of guilt when he recognises the disguise. Mainly at the slightly disappointing ratio of making out versus inventing reality-punching machines in his recent activities.

Still: "Hey!" Good-naturedly, as he redirects subtle levers to bring himself into a gentle landing dive. "It was... Nathan, eh?"