The lights are gone.

It's freezing, and as the wind howls, Sylar lets go, instinctively covering the back of his head as he plants his elbows on the floor.

BOOM.

That doesn't last. The entire bar shakes under the shockwave of an exploding star, and he jerks his head up, palms slamming wide and flat against the (tile) wood. Glass fragments glitter all around him.

Axel's hard to miss.

"Did you do this?" he demands.