Sylar

When no argument comes, he starts in on Matt viciously, his normal pristine, surgical cut anything but this time for as strongly as his rage has taken him. When he finishes, the top of the telepath's head looks like a ten-year-old's first attempt at carving a jack-o-lantern, but he doesn't seem to notice or care. He just peels off the top of Matt's head and dumps it on one of the empty tables nearby, before leaning down to check first that he didn't destroy his brain in his fit -- he didn't, thank God -- and then to look for his prize. As always, it never takes him long to find it, and when he does, he steps back, his fury subsiding in a instant of pain and the pleasure that follows.

He wonders idly, pleasantly, if Mohinder still wants his MRI.