In Chris' opinion, Central Park was overrated. Sure, it was the biggest and most famous park in New York, but it was also the loudest one, and the most dangerous. He never went there during the day unless he could avoid it.
At night it was quieter, but even more dangerous. You never knew which bush was just a regular, neutral piece of greenery and which bush hid a robber, ready to shank you for a handful of dollars.

He had his own way of avoiding trouble, though. When you were out in the lakes people on land had no idea knowing where you went, or even that you were there. It was usually too dark for people to see him out in the lake, even when he went up to the surface for air. On the other hand it was pretty hard for him to see his prey, but when he was in the water he relied more on his sense of smell anyway. Lake water was usually too muddy to see very far in, even during the day.

Chris swam slowly through the Harlem Meer, an eleven acre lake famous for it's fish. During the day you'd see fisherman standing on the shore, trying to land the biggest catch, snapping a photo of it and then letting it back into the lake again.
Needless to say, Chris had no intentions of letting anything he caught go. He considered it a favor to the eco system, though - the fish in the Harlem Meer had gotten way to complacent, growing fat from the corn visitors threw into the lake. He was introducing some much-needed fear of larger predators into the schools of fish.

He was swimming close to the bottom, close to the shore with a couple of weeping willows casting their shadow on the moonlit water surface, feeling his way with his hands across the muddy ground. The scent of fish was strong here, and it was usually a good place to snag a resting carp or two.

Sylar's unique life style had led to some unique habits over the years, and this happened to be one of them. Even though he had access to an actual bath now at the apartment, the boy still preferred a dip in the water to clear the sewer gunk from his armor and hair every now and again. Unaware he had picked the hunting spot of another big fish, the sewer boy shed his filthy hoodie and walked into the lake, slithering into the water once he was deep enough.

While he didn't care for swimming at any point in his life, Sylar's smooth alien flesh and his sharp extremities made him quite aqua-dynamic in reality, meaning he could swim rather well, to the point that sometimes he went for a dip to find a meal, and like a shark he was the top predator in any lake or river he choose. Gliding across the surface of the lake at first he cast a shadow over the murky water, unaware at first that Chris was at the bottom of the lake. Sylar's sense of smell was poor in the water, however his eye sight let him circumvent the murky water by being able to observe the heat blooms of the larger or more active fish.

The cool water was relaxing and as the sewer gunk washed from his body Sylar decided to dive deeper, turning downward with a splash as he began to enjoy the swim. However turning his attention towards the bottom of this large lake, his eyes began to catch sight of a large thermal bloom. That was one big fish, like way bigger than most of the carp or those big snake fish he sometimes found. The Predator delved deeper into the water, slowly closing the different between himself and Chris. Sylar's scent was certainly one the fish boy would have never smelled before. The unique aroma of Sylar's alien flesh, muddled with sewer sludge and deluded venom.

Sylar stared for a moment, holding his breath as best he could before turning and leaving to surface once more. Breaking the surface, Sylar thought for a moment. Whatever that fish was, it was big enough to feed him and have left overs! The boy gasped, taking a deep breath before diving again, this time rushing straight towards where Chris was. The Boogeyman of New York was now like some kind of alien shark, and his teeth and claws were all interested in catching Chris, the biggest fish in the lake right now.

Chris was gliding slowly throught he water now, trying to not make any sudden movements. He could see something glittering right in front of him: fish scales in the vague moonlight.
Just before he made his strike something spooked the fish: they scattered in all directions, and he could feel them swimming quickly around him. He tried to catch one, but his hands just threaded through empty water.

Suddenly he could feel the smell, too. There was the unmistakeable smell of raw sewage, combined with something he'd never experienced before. Whatever it was it immediately put him on edge. Was someone dumping hazardous material in the lake? In that case he needed to get out of there.

Suddenly he heard a very faint splash, something that sounded like a small fish breaking the surface. It came from right above him. A dark figure shadowed him from the faint moonlight, and the figure was swimming downward at a breakneck speed - as it got closer he could hear the water ferociously slooshing around it.

Right then he didn't care a single iota for pointless questions like how, why, who or what. The only thing he cared about was getting as far away as possible from whatever the hell that thing was.

His first instinct was to swim deeper, but after just two near-panicked breaststrokes he reached the bottom again. He swiftly tore up a muddy cloud that hopefully would confuse his pursuiter, and then quickly started swimming forward through the darkness in a zig-zag pattern.
His heart was beating madly and his survival instincts had kicked in, making it hard for him to think straight. He only had a single thought echoing through his mind: must get away must get away must get away!
Even though he didn't have time to stop and enjoy the irony of it, the experience was pretty much like what the bass and carps he'd chased earlier had gone through.

While Sylar was well designed for the water, and knew how to swim. He was still limited to swimming like a person, his claws and feet moving the water in a somewhat awkward motion compared to the slick undulation of the fish native to the waterways of the world. He could move fast, but someone like Chris, who was both made for and embraced the water had the advantage still. His vision was "cloudy" down here in the cool water, but Chris's large signature was easy enough to follow, but it seemed he wasn't as stealthy as he'd hoped, watching as Chris kicked about in the water, the mud clouding up everything as the other mutant quickly tried to flee.

Sylar touched the bottom of the lake and turned to watch Chris, his motion's clearly that of prey fleeing a predator. Sylar couldn't hold his breath for long, but he'd try one more time to catch that big fish! The boy tensed up and began swimming again, passing through the cloud of mud as he made a straight shot towards Chris. Sylar's tail dragged behind him, the bladed end cutting through the water but not helping him terribly much when it came to swimming.

He kept after Chris, merciless in his pursuit of the other mutant down here in the depth of the lake, but his air supply ran short with all the vigorous activity, and he felt that pressure building in him that signaled needing to breath. Sylar muttered the word "crap" into the water before breaking off and heading up to surface for a breath. Taking a gasping breath, Sylar mumbled some more into the open air. "Stupid thing is fast." He tried to think for a moment, his alien form hovering in the water as he kicked to stay afloat. "One more try." He gasped again, taking a big breath as he dove once more, looking for Chris and hoping to catch himself a big fat fish dinner.

It was impossible to tell which way to go in the dark water!
Chris was swimming in a random pattern, but forced himself to stop when he realized that he might as well swim right into whatever the hell it was that was chasing him. With his heart beating wildly in his chest he tried to see where the dark figure had gone.

A stream of bubbles escaped from his flat nose. He had been under water for long, too long, and his chest had begun to ache. If he didn't go up for air soon, he'd drown... and that would be a way too ironic death for his taste.

What had it been, anyway? He'd only caught a brief glance of it, a dark shadow cutting off the moonlight above him, but the way it had moved... with a long tail, swishing from side to side...
No. Impossible.
Alligators in New York were just a myth, an urban legend. But it would explain the smell of sewage, and... oh. Unless the lack of air was beginning to make him dizzy, he'd just heard it talk. Alligators didn't talk. That basically left one other option... another mutant.

Chris would rather have met a gator.

The thing made another dive for him, he could hear it breach the surface above him. How could it know where he was?!
Chris tried swimming downwards, but his leg scraped against a sharp wooden branch protruding from the bottom of the lake. He could feel the taste of his own blood in the water, and that, together with the growing ache in his lungs, made him desperate. He pulled up the branch from the mud, pressed his feet against the bottom and then lunged straight towards the dark figure.
Hopefully he'd be able to get in a good strike with the branch and leave it dazed enough to get himself to the surface... it wasn't much of a plan, but he was desperate.
To bad that he could barely see his opponent. Chris flailed wildly with the branch when he considered himself close enough, hoping he'd get in a lucky hit.

Sylar's eyes never lost sight of the heated blob that was Chris beneath the water, his eyes blurred by the chill of the water but still able to pick apart the visual cues in ways none of the other animals could. He couldn't smell down here like Chris though, his nose only super human above the waves, so he couldn't detect the hints of panic or the taste of blood in the water as Chris armed himself with a piece of drift wood.

However Sylar was a bit confused by the antics of what he thought a fish, sort of randomly flailing about before charging right at him, the creature must be panicking to act like that, so Sylar figured he'd get his meal now as his claws came forward to catch his prize. The two of them came closer to one another, clawed fingers extending to grasp Chris and the surprise attack suddenly breaking about all the water near Sylar. He wasn't quite sure was happening till he felt a thud against his left arm, and then his shoulder. The water acted as a cushion, absorbing a lot of the force as Chris swung, but it was still enough to disorient and break Sylar away from his hunt, some of the air in his lungs escaping as he mumbled in confusion.

Chris would have his moment to escape up to the surface, and now in the middle of the confusion Sylar felt he'd need to surface as well. He watched the "fish" head upwards before he had to head there himself, probably breaking the water just after Chris would. What the heck was going on here? Fish sometimes thrashed about or bit, but they never hit like a club, and that's what Sylar had felt. "What the heck man?" He spoke after reaching the air above, and searching for Chris once more, his brain taking a moment to figure out the situation, as the scent of a man or mutant could only register with Sylar outside of the murky depths.

The makeshift club hit once, twice - not particularly hard, but it was enough to surprise the predator.  Chris quickly swam to the surface, and once he broke it he took a few deep breaths of fresh air.
He started to swim away from the spot, but then a voice behind him made him freeze.
>>"What the heck man?"

Chris slowly spun around, threading water. 

Once again, he would have rather been eye to eye with an alligator. It was too dark for Chris to make out the details, but he could see a humanoid head, long, wet hair, and eyes that glistened in the moonlight. Chris took a quick backstroke to create some more space between them, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he didn't want to seem like he was fleeing. He had already been hunted enough for one evening, and if it was possible to talk his way out of this...

Just in case, he still held the branch in a firm grip... even though the wood smelled partly rotten, and another hit would probably split it in two.

"You... you want this spot? You can have it," he stammered. "I, I can find another lake. No problems. No problems at all. Please don't kill me."

Sylar's ears were quite exceptional as well, though you didn't need super hearing to make out the stammering of someone afraid of you. Sylar knew that tone far too well. The fish he'd been after seemed to not be a fish at all, but a person? The fish was putting some distance between himself and Sylar, though Sylar didn't really feeling like chasing, lifting one of his armor clad hands out of the water to rub his shoulder a bit. His body was tough, but being hit still stung.

Showing his lack of manners, Sylar suddenly flushed the water from his nose, blowing out before taking a few sniffs of the air. He could make out the scent of the water, and various things around him, as well as the complex scent that was Chris. It smelled like like a fish, but not entirely. A mixture of two worlds that only meant one thing to the sewer monster, a mutant. He turned to look at Chris, his emotionless tone deceptively intimidating.

"Well, seems you aren't the big fish I thought you were." Sylar sighed, realizing he'd spooked a mutant and wasted his time trying to nab a fish when he could have just left the pond awhile ago. "Calm down man, I don't wanna kill ya. I'm a mutie too." He started swimming once more, staying on the surface though and swimming off towards the shore, which happened to be behind where Chris was a ways. If the fish boy bolted or swam off, Sylar would just let him go, he had no interest in scaring or trying to eat one of his own kind. Roach took that lesson quite seriously when he was teaching Sylar.

He slowed a bit and spoke again at Chris if he remained in the same spot. "Sorry that I spooked you, It's just kind of what I do." He said as a joke, though his deadpan tone tended to kill any comedic timing he aimed for.

The mutant's appearance, claws and armor and all, didn't exactly have a calming effect on Chris. Chris had been hunting for as long as he could remember, but only fish, birds and small animals. He wasn't exactly equipped to deal with anything larger and more ferocious than, say, a trout... but the other mutant seemed to be capable of taking down large prey. It was a bit too easy to imagine those claws digging into his own defenseless, grey skin for Chris' comfort. 
He shivered, and then forced himself to relax a bit. The other mutant didn't seem like he was out to kill Chris; it sounded like he'd been hunting for a late-night snack too.

When the mutant began to move in Chris' direction he quickly paddled backwards, and felt a sharp twinge of pain in the leg he'd scraped. But the armored mutant paid him no mind, instead he just continued towards the shore. Chris swallowed audibly when he caught sight of the long tail, which had lead him to mistake the guy for an alligator earlier. It was mean-looking, armored, and ended with a sharp, crooked tip. Definitely a weapon capable of taking down larger prey than trouts.

Despite still being a bit cautious of the other guy and keeping a respectful distance from him and his tail, Chris couldn't help getting intrigued. No matter how threatening the situation got on land, he'd always been safe in the water. This was a bit of an unprecedented situation for him; he'd never met another aquatic mutant before.

"Spooked? Me? No," Chris said, shaking his head empathically. "I, I enjoy getting hunted by predatory mutants in the middle of the night. Who doesn't. Bit of exercise."
As long as they had a safe distance between them he dared to show some cheek.

Chris was still paddling water, but the constant pain in the leg served as a reminder that he needed to get out of the water soon. 
"Are you... are you an aquatic mutant?" he asked hesitantly. "I've never met one. Before."

Claws sharp as knives, armor warped into his flesh, and a tail like some scorpion nightmare, Sylar couldn't help but intimidate at first glance. After all, Chris might hunt for fish, and be the top of the chain in a pond like this. But comparing to Sylar was like putting a man against a tiger, Sylar wasn't designed for the water, he was designed for murder.

Sylar had a talent for sniffing out fear, each of the various factors that happened when someone was afraid were easy to pick up with his enhanced senses, but when he knew the other person was a mutant, it somehow dulled those senses, back to almost human levels. But he could tell Chris was definitely uncomfortable around him, the way he quickly pulled back or reacted with a high pitched voice. But Sylar was used to it, after all, the Boogeyman was supposed to be scary after all, even when he wasn't trying.

Sylar stopped for a moment as Chris attempted to hide his anxiety with humor, and turned towards the fish mutant. "Oh yeah? I'll remember that next time." Sylar said flatly, his own brand of cheek often falling so terribly flat that it became somewhat scary. Sadly the boy was just awful at comedy.

As Sylar drew closer to the shore, his predatory motions turning more human as he got close enough to land to stand up Chris asked him about his mutation. Sylar wasn't even sure if he was aquatic actually, he'd spent most of his time in a sewer, which had some but not nearly as much water as a pond. More than anything Sylar was certain his mutation was just meant to be horrible. He turned back to look at Chris as he spoke.
"As far as I can tell, I'm not aquatic. I'm just a predator. Spend most of my time in the sewers ya know."

Though Sylar couldn't see Chris, the way the other mutant moved in the water and smelled clearly made him out as some type of water creature, otherwise things might have ended far worse tonight than some mild injuries and a serious case of spooked.

His attempt at cheek backfired when the other mutant mentioned that he'd remember that the next time.
"...oh," Chris said weakly. It was... hard to tell if the clawed mutant was serious or not. Chris made a mental note - don't try to make any jokes around someone who can eviscerate you.

"I see. That explains the..." Chris began to say, but he didn't finish the sentence. The other mutant was not acting in a hostile way, and Chris was anxious to keep it that way. Mentioning the way the other mutant smelled would probably not be a very wise thing to do. "I see," he repeated instead.

His leg was still hurting, and Chris knew he needed to get a look at it to see how bad it was. However, he wasn't about to climb onto dry ground next to Claws. On land he was too slow, too vulnerable. And even if he would be able to swim to the other side of the lake in his current state, the long swim would weaken him.
So for now it seemed like he had to continue paddling until the predatory mutant left.
"I guess you must be anxious to go back, then," he said with a slightly strained voice.

Sylar's joke fell flat it seemed, as the boy received no laughter or chuckling in response, though he didn't care either way. Jokes weren't really Sylar's forte, he was a mixture of cowardice and seriousness at the same time that sort of killed any chance he had at breaking the ice properly. The fish mutant seemed content to remain in the water as Sylar crawled onto land, his form rising from the water like some kind of horror movie, the dark liquid unhappy to relinquish it's prize, dripping slowly from the boy's various armored parts.

Sylar was watching the water, and Chris as well, though his eyes merely saw one large blot of heat a midst the cold chill of the pond. Was the mutant unable to exit the water, or just didn't want to? Sylar wondered, his tail swaying slowly back and forth behind him, like some nightmarish cat. The boy began to sniff the fresh air, clearing the smell of water from his nostrils when he began to pick up on something. The heavy scent of blood, and it wasn't coming from him or anything on land. He must have hurt the mutant during their brief scuffle beneath the surface.

Chris was anxious and stressed, which Sylar could pick up a bit on, but not as much as normal, since Chris was still muddied beneath the water, but blood was a hard thing to hide from the Predator. "You probably don't want to stay in the water much longer. You're bleeding I think." He said flatly, his voice sounding still rather intimidating, though he had no ill will for the fish mutant, instead he simply wanted to warn him in case he hadn't noticed the wound. Washing a wound out was a great idea, flushing it with unprocessed pond water? Probably a really bad one, or at least that's why Sylar thought.

He didn't answer the other mutant's question right away. On one hand, Chris needed to get out of the water and get his wound looked at. Continuing to swim wasn't really an option. But on the other hand, the spiky, nightmarish shape of the other mutant didn't exactly make him anxious to get close.
The mutant seemed to have lost interest in Chris after realizing Chris was a sentient being rather than a large fish, but on land Chris would be the slower out of the two... especially with a wounded leg.

"No, I don't," he finally admitted and began to swim towards the shore. However, when he waded ashore he kept a distance of about 5 meters between himself and the other mutant. It wasn't to be rude, it was out of pure self-preservation. Chris limped over to a nearby rock and sat down on it; he began wringing out his clothes while keeping a watchful eye on the other mutant. Any sudden movements and he'd bolt straight out into the relative safety of the lake again.
Then he suddenly bolted to his feet quickly, despite the sudden pang of pain in his leg.
"How... how did you know I was bleeding?" he asked nervously while weighing from foot to foot.