It really is extraordinary, he thinks, looking down into his own face. What this one can do.

Take the same blind man from before; make him a thief, place him in front of a Van Gogh, and tell him that there isn't any security.

Sylar's hand inches across the table, fingers spread.

It would be worth the chance, wouldn't it. Even if it's difficult. The basic steps are the same for any robbery; certain traits may help, but they're not a requirement.

Genetics are genetics, in the end, and while he may not see how, he knows that she does work. He's done this enough times to fill in the rest.

And he hadn't needed telekinesis to kill Brian Davis.

His fingers close around the cool ceramic of the mug. "Yes," he murmurs, calmly distant, as he mirrors the other Sylar's smile down to the last detail. "I think we do."

In one sudden, violent motion, he swings his arm forward and slams the mug into the side of Candice's head with a CRASH.