remorse for what? you people have done everything in the world to me. (rp for <lj site="livejournal.

[heroslayer]

Considering her ability, it really hadn't surprised him that Angela hadn't come to the door. He was disappointed maybe, given the trouble he'd gone to putting on Peter's face especially for her, but he wasn't surprised. He only wondered if she knew who he was bringing with him and what she was capable of. He wanted something out of this beyond her ability and her head on a stick, and it really wouldn't be any fun at all if Angela knew all about the ace he had up his sleeve, too.

Sighing, he cast Gabriella a sideways glance and leaned into the door, pantomiming the use of a key while he picked the lock, and let them in. The door closed on its own behind them, Sylar unwilling to turn to close it manually on the off chance that Angie had set up an ambush in the foyer. There was nothing, however, the house apparently silent and dark, save for the lines of prying mid-morning sun that crept in through ornate security doors, and he frowned. She could have at least had the decency to be waiting for them when they came in. He supposed, though, that that was Angela for you -- a bitch to a fault, even when her fate was sealed.

He moved towards the stairs at the other end of the room, leaning on the banister as his eyes wandered up the spiral staircase.

"Angela," he sing-songed sweetly, not bothering to trade out Peter's voice for his own. Knowing it was him or not, he could just imagine the look on her face -- the look of horrified betrayal -- when he killed her wearing the face of her sole surviving son. He would have smiled at the thought, too, if the bitch would just give some indication of where she was.

Oh, well. It had been such a long time since he'd had a proper hunt.

Turning away from the stairs, he looked first to the front door again, the locks on it and everywhere else in the house snapping shut in unison with an ominious click, then raised his eyes to Gabriella. Finally, slowly, he offered her a wicked grin. "Guess she wants to play hide and seek."

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[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

Angela stepped out of the alcove across the hall like a ghost and raised the gun she carried, training it on Gabriella's back almost casually. She allowed herself a moment's hope that the girl wouldn't scream -- she didn't want Sylar barging in on them right away -- and then pulled the trigger, the silencer she'd screwed onto the muzzle hours ago serving to mute the better part of the sound of fire.

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

Angela got her wish from Gabriella. She didn't scream, because she didn't notice that there was someone behind her until she heard the click of the trigger, and before she could turn around there was a sharp pain entering her back, only getting a soft "Oh!" from her, before she wobbled forward, towards the desk, and crashed onto the floor.

Shock immediately washed over her, paralyzing her for a moment as she assessed the damage; pushing herself up, only to collapse down again as she reached around to touch her back, and saw the blood on her fingers. She wanted to scream, to call out to Sylar in hopes that he would hear her, but the shock had made her lose her voice in a way, so when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

She moved into the room calmly, rounding both Gabriella and the desk so she could sit down. The leather creaked under her, the only sound in the room beyond their breathing, and once she had settled, she put the gun down on the desk expecting that she wouldn't go for it. Guns has never been their style.

"I wouldn't call for your friend upstairs, dear," she said, finally breaking the near-silence, the corners of her mouth curling into a grim smile. "That wouldn't look good for either of us, now would it?"

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

Gabriella opened her mouth to reply, but again found it difficult as her breathing was laboured. A deep breath was taken before she managed a dry, bitter sentence. "I take it you're Angela?"

She sniffed – she hadn't even realised that there were tears that were trickling down her face, but the pain had numbed her by now. Too powerful for her body to handle, so instead it shut itself down to it.

[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

"And you must be Gabriella." That, apparently, was the only indication she was going to give that the other woman was right in her assumptions. "I'd offer you a seat, but that'd be something like rubbing salt in the wound."

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

That actually surprised her a bit. That the woman knew who she was, but the surprise wasn't made obvious on her face. She'd simply thought that the anomaly of the situation would have surpassed her ability, but she was apparently wrong. That, however, just made her want what she could do that much more.

With struggle she managed to push herself to a more upright position, as though determined to try to take the unoffered seat, but it was a pained struggle to even manage to pull herself up using one of the chairs opposite her.

"He'll realise I'm missing." Not that it was much of a threat, but there wasn't much she could do. She could try to get the gun, but she was certain that her ability wouldn't allow her to do more than make it wiggle in her current state.

[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

"Eventually," she agreed, folding her fingers over the gun delicately as if she sensed her thoughts. "And when he does, he'll kill me. I'm prepared for that -- I have been since he stopped being my son."

It was why she hadn't brought the Haitian in. Why, when she'd reached both Matt and Bennet's voice mails she'd only warned them to watch out, not begged them to come to her. Even without her ability, she could have guessed her time was nearing its end. Sylar couldn't be gotten rid of or contained, no matter how many times she'd tried, and after the last botched attempt, she knew his efforts to claim her life would be redoubled. She had supposed she could prolong the inevitable if she'd called someone else in, but she was tired. Her son was dead, her other barely spoke to her, there were no grand schemes to continue on for, and Sylar -- both of them -- could be better dealt with by someone else. It was simply time.

Though, of course, not before she'd sewn some seeds of doubt between the two of them. It was her last gift to the son who had all but disowned her. "Though, I think the more important question is what's more important to him. My life or yours." She offered her another grim smile. "At the rate your ruining my carpeting, I'm not sure you'll last much longer."

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

At least she was resigned to the fact that she was going to die that night, although that wasn't quite the response she had been expecting. It didn't give her anything else to say, though that was probably a good thing, since talking only seemed to speed up the process in which her body was going through, having started to tasted blood in her mouth as she coughed.

The bullet had entered high up on her back, something she could feel now that the shock was wearing off, which meant the pain was rearing its ugly head. Perhaps it had gotten to her lung, which would explained why it was so hard to breathe, and the taste of blood when she coughed. She couldn't tell though, since her whole back and chest felt like fire.

"What's..." she stared at her, her outline beginning to grow fuzzy, and she slumped again; leaning heavily against the chair so she didn't fall back fully onto the floor. "His blood can bring me back."

[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

The smile on her lips was nothing short of vicious. "But will he, dear? After all, you're really nothing more than competition."

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

"If he wanted to get rid of me, he could have done so months ago," she snapped back, and then hissed from the immediate pain that followed it; closing her eyes tightly as she breathed her way through it. "But he hasn't. He will."

[mapetrelli.livejournal.com]

"His charming narcissism will only hold up for so long; he'll get bored with you eventually." She shrugged lightly and unfolded her hands over the gun only to re-lace them a second later. He was coming, and while she was resigned to this, she had to admit to a certain amount of fear; God only knew how much he would make her suffer first.

She took a deep breath. "But before he does ... ask him what happened to his last girlfriend, sometime, and try not to be too disappointed when it turns out I'm right."

Not that Elle's death had had anything to do with him growing disinterested in her; she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time when Noah had dropped the bomb about her and Arthur not really being his family. Still, however, she had a feeling that, given time, Sylar would have gotten bored with her and would have either walked out or killed her. He wasn't a very patient man, after all.