An Odd Request

Those villains were no doubt wreaking havoc on the public, but I had other things to attend to, like watching me come in first place on the fourth leg of The Amazing Mutant Race. It was a fun moment to relive, and worth putting the villains on hold.

But they've been waiting long enough. It's time for me to do what I do best: bag and tag special people.

"I'm special!" Sylar called out from his cell.

He had been annoying me non-stop every since he learned that I'd be taking The Haitian with me on my next mission.

There was no way I'd be working with that murderous lunatic again. I told Angela that, I told Sylar that, I even told the cashier at McDonald's that when I got a Big Mac earlier.

"Do you want fries with that?" the overly-pierced adolescent asked.

"No, I don't want fries," I replied, "and I don't want to ever work with that murderous lunatic again."

Surprised, he then asked, "You worked with OJ?"

Once I cleared up the confusion, and he realized I couldn't get him Juice's autograph, he gave me my change, and I awaited the arrival of my Big Mac.

Then, back at Primatech, I had to go tell Sylar for the seventeenth time that he can't be my partner anymore.

"Oh, well can I have your toy?" he inquired.

"I didn't get a Happy Meal," I said, finishing the Big Mac I bought earlier.

"Gee, Mr. Glasses, you're such a bore!" He looked at me from behind his Plexiglas barrier and added, "But you're a very responsible and, like, mature bore. It's, like probably totally awesome having your life...a fun job, a daughter with a scrumptious brain, being old enough to have seen Grease at the drive-in."

This was that new side of Sylar again. It made me uncomfortable. I prefer shooting him, not listening to him try to be human.

Then, he asked me a very strange question, even by Sylar standards. "Could I have some of your sperm, Mr. Glasses? Lol, I mean like in a cup, silly. For later."

"Why would you want that?" I asked, stunned.

"Well, like, you know, if I can't have little watchmakers of my own someday...it's just that...you're such a family man and, like, I wanna be like you someday, you know, once I eat bunches of brains and finish being a hot child in the city and all. Like, eventually, I want to settle down in the suburbs, but I'm afraid all the brain-eating and DNA alteration may have turned my magic firecracker into a dud."

That was more information than I wanted to hear. "That's not gonna happen," I said. "You're a murderer, Sylar. You won't change."

"My name is Gabriel!" he cried. "I mean, uh...like, you can call me Gabriel if you want...or Sylar. Whatever."

"The answer's no," I told him.

"Think about it," he responded. "Mohinder could probably help me out with all the gooey medical details. Ewww, but then I'll get all fat and stuff! But after nine months, I'll give birth to a cute little Mr. Glasses Junior! I'd totally be like Arnie in that movie where he has a baby with Danny DeVito. You can be my Danny DeVito!"

Yeah, that will never happen. "Goodbye, Gabriel." I said and left Level 5.