It was not an entirely new feeling to Sylar, but it was definitely one he had never hoped to feel again. What made the pain of Elle's blast even worse, however - and make no mistake, it was already painful enough - was that it made him lose his grip on the cheerleader. Once he recovered from the initial shock, Sylar glanced up and saw that Claire had already taken off down the street. He had been so close, and to have his moment once again snatched away at the last second drove him into a fury.
He knew that, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't simply take off after Bennet...not yet. He would have to deal with Elle first. He cursed himself under his breath for not simply killing Elle when he had had the chance. It was a mistake he didn't plan to repeat.
And yet, as he turned to face Elle, he noticed something...alarming. When he had walked over to grab Claire, he had stepped into the middle of the ice slick he had created. Whether it was a result of Elle's blast or simply that he hadn't created it strong enough for the L.A. weather, he couldn't be sure. But, whatever the case, it was no longer an ice slick. Sylar was standing dead in the middle of a large puddle of water. His eyes snapped back up to Elle, who didn't really look like she was through with him yet.
"Well," he thought to himself, "this could be bad."