Sylar

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. He'd half-expected this, of course, self-preservation a powerful thing -- enough to win out in spite of Mohinder's apparent death wish -- but that didn't make him any happier. Nor did it stop him from digging his nails into his palm, invisible grip tightening in the other man's shirt or from making a gesture that seemed to suggest that he was throwing a baseball, pitching Suresh over his shoulder and into the alley without mercy.