Sylar wasn't strong enough to break Mohinder's neck and the finger that had managed to get under the wire stopped him from making this a quick kill. No, Sylar. Mohinder was going to bleed out, struggling weakly until he no longer could struggle, until his blood covered the front and back of his shirt, covered Sylar's gloves and his coat.

If there was such a thing as a price to pay for every life taken, it would be the telltale signs of death across Sylar's clothes. At least Mohinder was forced to listen to those goading whispers.

But Mohinder would not be coming back. And Sylar would be alone in this frozen over hell. And all because he was too bored to put a little effort into a lie.