Sylar chokes, frozen in surprise as much as from the freshly burning sear of pain. His entire body spasms as his eyes roll back.

How it feels is like raw, hot wire plunged into his chest and scraped up the inside of his veins, radiating out further and further with each pulse of his heart. It feels like weights settling onto his stomach, and arms, and mind.

He doesn't articulate that. He can't even begin to try.

His arms jerk again, on reflex; then he is still.