If I Could Live What Truth I Did...

Dustin walked along the sidewalk, trying to shy away from all the flashing lights and the people. You never know who might work for the Company anymore, after the one known as Sylar killed the Vice-President. He was in the process of reverting back to his true form after happily turning in a lot of stolen poker chips. He didnt want anyone seeing that.

Later, he was walking along the large pond in front of the Belagio, admiring the fountain show to work some stress out of him. Many would think that stealing would be incredibly easy for him, its not. Some messed up thing called morals. After the waterworks were over, he headed inside and started actually playing with his stolen cash. He was doing the minimums and such, and it felt good to just play.

He passed through all the many games, poker, blackjack, roulette, craps, and had lost very little money, considering he was betting in fives and tens. He made his way over to the lobby and rented a suite for the night. Very little cash compared to his profit today. He rode up the elevator, got into the room and watched some TV, mostly just more media coverage on the VP's death, then went to bed. A fine day.

Warm water splashed down on his face, a good way to spend a better part of the day. Gabriel stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off. It was a fine midday out, and Sylar was hoping to have some fun today. Maybe even get another ability on his trek through the town. But first, a change. He focused on the man's face in his mind, feeling his skin, hair, and bone's melt away and reform itself into the man he had been envisioning in his mind. It had become a habit for Sylar to do this, to remove who he was for a short period.

After killing the Vice-President, the world was spinning upside-down, people searching for the man responsible, and of course, that would be Sylar. But the man in the mirror was one not hunted, the mind on the inside of the mound of flesh the responsible party.

He went into town, strolling along the dirty market's, the shopkeeper's ignoring the fighter jet's streaming overhead, the motor's of vehicle's zooming past. Sylar smiled to himself at the world he had created. He had turned a peaceful country into a zone for catastrophe, confusion, and terror. And the cause was one single man being killed, and that man was not him.

He sighed, walking to a nearby hotel, his hunger telling him of something to devour nearby. He was wondering which power he would come across, maybe even encountering Peter Petrelli on his little journey, the thorn in his side itching to be removed. But that would come later, first, he needed to quench his hunger.

He checked into a VIP suite, simple enough, with the right amount of money. He wandered to the elevator, the machine whirring to life as it took him skyward's to his designated room. He would watch, and wait for the ability to come to him, as most abilities did. He walked into his room, laying on the couch, and turned on the television.

Dustin woke to the single blade of light striking his face. What a horrible hotel room for their more expensive end. The light came through the tinniest crack in the curtains and was perfectly positioned to get right under his eyes. He still dragged himself up and collapsed over the side of the bed. He pulled himself up by the nightstand and looked at the clock as he came up. It was 9:36 AM. Dustin managed to pick himself up all the way, and immediatly went to shower. Nice, hot water always made him feel good.

After doing the rest of the morning routine, he ordered breakfast from the phone, but rather than wait for it, he went down to the lobby and walked out of the hotel doors. The Strip was revealed before him, and he turned right to head north. The streets were full of bumber-bumber traffic, and the sidewalks had fistfights every few feet from collisions between big, stupid men that thought they could gamble. He made his way past the money hotels and souvenir shops, before stopping at Las Vegas' own little aeronautics museum/store.

He went in and scheduled a helicopter ride to the Hoover Dam at 4:20 PM, whereupon he walked back out and made his way further down the street to the Circus Circus. He bought himself the Indoor Amusement Park admission and proceeded to do the mini-golf course that stretched along, through, below, and above other rides many more times than neccessary. It was all part of the plan. He had already located six, but the others were late.