heroslayer | for writer's block table: awake (rp for its

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for writer's block table: awake (rp for its_notluck)

Something shatters downstairs.

The sound is faint, not a window breaking but a cup, but it's enough to cut through the haze of faint awareness he's been floating in for the last few days and drag him gasping into full alertness. He lays there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the sound and the odd, displaced feeling that comes with waking up somewhere you can't remember ever being, and then there's another crash from downstairs. He sits up abruptly, glaring holes in the twilight of the room, straining to listen.

He hears voices but nothing else, not even with his hearing, his focus shot to hell and wrapped in cotton, but it's enough to put him on edge. He can remember Samuel now and everything move he's made against them since he and Claire walked out of that damnable carnival, and he's quick to assume that they're under attack again. The barker has sent his cronies after them or come himself again, and he won't stand for it.

He moves to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and winces once he manages, teeth gritting, his muscles crying out from months and months of disuse. He ignores the pain, however, not even sure why it hurts in the first place, and staggers to his feet, a hand going to the nightstand to steady himself. And once he feels certain enough standing, he lets go, pushing away to move towards the door.

He gets exactly three steps away before the IV line tugs at his hand, and the shock of it is enough to send him off balance. He sprawls to the floor gracelessly, a snarl on his lips, and the voices downstairs stop abruptly.

A long, tense moment follows and then the sound of someone coming up the stairs chases the silence away. The door opens cautiously a moment later, and Peter pokes his head in, backlit by strange, flickering light. When he steps into the room, he realizes it's coming from the flames lapping harmlessly at his fingertips. He hums, amused, and tries to drag himself to his feet again.

"Whoa, hey." Peter is by his side in an instant, the fire at his hand dying suddenly, and wraps his arms around his waist. He doesn't even try to claw his way free as Peter hauls him back up to the bed. "Take it easy. You've been out of it for awhile."

Confused, he stares at Peter, trying to work out what the hell he means by that, and it all filters back to him slowly, a chill creeping up his spine as each snippet of memory returns. Giving Peter his original ability back. Passing out afterward. All of it. He opens his mouth to ask the other man just how long it's been, but he misses his chance, Peter sliding away from him to rush towards the door.

He pushes it open widely, yelling down the stairs, "Claire! He's awake!"

And Sylar can't help the stab of annoyance that follows when he realizes he must have been out of play for quite some time.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 526
Note: Pretty sure the ex isn't stalking me and my muses anymore, so ... Peter is

hadtobeahero and all mine to use and abuse.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's impossible for you to fail." She pointed out with a fond smirk as she tightened her arms around him again.

He hummed, amused, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Good to know your confidence in me didn't suffer any while I was gone."

"How could it?" She asked with a sort of shrug, pulling back after he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "The only downside to Peter having his ability back is that he'll notice when he starts getting new powers suddenly."

"Maybe not," he said, pressing his lips together into a thoughtful line. He was silent for a moment, turning it over in his head, and then clarified. "Back when this all started, he had all of my powers, and he only ever used the telekinesis."

And the induced radioactivity that he'd stolen from Ted Sprague -- though, admittedly, that could have come from Ted himself -- but Peter could have been so much more powerful than that. He should have been able to hear him when he'd been spying on them in Kirby Plaza that afternoon. He should have been able to freeze him solid during the fight that took place that night. Peter could have done any number of things, yet it seemed he had no idea how to access them, if he was aware that he had his full power compliment at all, and hopefully that would hold true here.

Claire had noticed that Peter seemed oblivious to some of his abilities and even unsure of how to control them. She had been there that night when he lost control of the radioactivity after all. That was probably just the downside of taking an ability without being aware, unlike Sylar who always knew exactly what he was going for and what he was taking. The same thing that he was teaching Claire or could at least teach her now.

"Well, if we're lucky, he won't notice for awhile." Not that it would really matter to Claire what Peter would say anyways. That seemed to matter less and less these days.

"Hopefully." He shrugged, then offered her a slow, devious smile. "If not, you can always blame it on me. He already knows what I like to do in my spare time."

And he could really give a damn what Peter thought of him.

"Honestly, I really don't care if he finds out." Maybe that was easier said than to deal with but it was true at times. "Maybe it'd put his mind at ease if he knew I could look after myself better these days. Of course, knowing Peter..." She trailed off with a little chuckle.

Knowing Peter, he would just think Sylar was more of a monster than before and focus on trying to "save" her.

"Knowing Peter, he'd probably try and kill me for giving you the hunger."

He licked his lips and looked towards the ceiling, half-tempted to go upstairs and fill Peter in, just so he'd have an excuse to kill him. Not that he had any great issue with Peter -- he was a naive idiot, and time hadn't changed that, but he wasn't as obsessed with putting him out of his misery as he had been in his younger years -- but now that he was awake and had eaten, he found he was itching for a fight he knew he could win. It wouldn't be an easy one -- especially when Peter realized he had all his powers and Claire's -- but after all the losses they'd suffered at the hands of Samuel or all the times they'd been forced to retreat from the government, it would be worth it to be the last man standing for once. Maybe he'd even let Peter live for being such a good sport.

Claire could see the temptation running through him and she almost smirked at the idea but she didn't quite want to see Peter killed. Plus she didn't want to see their home destroyed either, not when there was a chance they would need it for awhile yet.

"Probably best not to call too much attention to ourselves yet." She pointed out, leaning against the counter as she glanced up at the ceiling as well. "Especially since there's a power or two nearby."

"Sorry." He wasn't, not really, but it was the principle of the thing -- what was probably still expected of him, even though Claire seemed to have gotten darker while he'd been out. He fought back a smirk at the thought and slid his eyes back down to her. "Guess I'm still hungry. It's been four months."

As he mentioned the hunger, she could feel the trickle of it slipping through her system and her gaze seemed to darken at the idea of what they could do. "Don't blame you." She replied with a chuckle, still smirking.

"We could get the other guy, he would be easy." Not that the ability to climb walls was overly exciting for him, she knew that, but maybe it would take the edge off till he was stronger to go after the other guy with teleportation.

He cast another glance up at the ceiling. Peter was finishing up now, he could hear that much, but between the look on her face and his own need threatening to boil over now that they were talking about it, he wanted something and he wanted it now. He wondered idly how he'd managed to go years without killing, when only four months in between murders seemed hellish now.

He wet his lips with his tongue again. "We could go now. I'll leave one of my copies here with Peter. Tell him you went to the store to pick up some food now that I'm awake again."

Claire tilted her head in consideration because it was a simple enough plan and she was fairly sure it would work. "Sounds good." She pushed away from the counter, brushing her hands against her hips while slipping over to grab the keys from where she had left them the last time she went out on an errand.

Turning to watch him, she waited for him to make a copy of himself before she led him into the garage where the car was parked. She was about to climb into the driver's side when she paused, glancing over to him while holding up the keys. "Do you want to drive?"

A perfect copy of Sylar appeared from the living room and moved to sit down at the table, stretching out at it languidly as if he had just never gotten up from breakfast. The real killer didn't chance him so much as a look, however, knowing that his duplicate would know what to do, and followed Claire out into the garage, pausing as she did to eye the keys thoughtfully.

Yes, he wanted to drive, but he didn't know where their mark was. Claire did, and the sooner they could get there and get what the both needed, the sooner they could go find a grocery store to sell the lie. They couldn't come home empty-handed, after all, and so he shook his head, rounding the car to get into the passenger's seat. "You drive. Faster that way."

Claire nodded, climbing into the driver's seat. Pressing the button for the garage opener, she pulled out and then started east. She knew the general area of where he liked to hang out and she knew what he did for work but that meant that sometimes he was on the moves which could cause them to lose a bit of time while they looked for the guy.

After awhile, she pulled up in front of a small apartment building. "This is where he lives. Bottom right." She pointed at the apartment just in case Sylar wouldn't know where she meant. "The one facing the alley." Which would make things easier for them.

Leaning forward in his seat, he stared at the building, his head cocked to one side as he studied the building. From what he could tell -- what he could hear -- there were at least a few people inside, though whether or not it was their mark, he couldn't tell. The sound was too distorted, every TV blaring and pop-hiss of breakfast being made echoing off the walls and to his ears, to the point where he couldn't tell if it was coming from their boy's apartment or someone else's. On the plus side, though, assuming he was home, it was possible any sound of a struggle or screaming would go unnoticed, chalked up to an mid-morning horror movie marathon on one cable channel or another, bouncing around in the halls. And if not, well, he could lie to anyone who bothered to poke their head in like a pro.

Smirking at the thought -- and the idea that the apartment would be easy to get out of, if all else failed -- he slid out of the car and moved for the building, not waiting to see if she followed. He paused outside the building's main door, putting himself between it and the renter's building across the way, and picked the lock telekinetically, holding the door for her once he had it open. Then, quietly, he moved down the hallway towards the apartment they wanted, stopping a few feet back from the door to glance back at her.

After another moment, he stepped out of the way and inclined his head towards the door. "You've seen me do this enough times. Your turn."

"Nothing like putting me on the spot." She teased him as she slipped past, heading to the door of the apartment they needed to get into. She didn't have any nifty powers to get them inside since she wasn't good enough with the telekinesis to unlock the door. She would just blast the door open and that would call too much attention to them right away.

Luckily, she had a way in of sorts since she had spent enough time scouting the place and watching the going-ons of the building. That's why she knew there was a young woman upstairs, close to the guy's age and her own age, that would give her a sort of cover story though she really didn't need it.

Knocking on the door, she waited as she listened for the tell-tale shuffle of someone's feet approaching. Fixing a warm smile on her face, she tilted her head to the side as she counted off the beats, knowing that the guy would look at her through the peek-hole before opening the door. When he did, she found herself facing a slender young man who was probably only a couple years older than her. "Yes?"

"Hey." She tucked some hair back from her face. "I'm Sandy, I'm staying with Carole upstairs?" She watched the flash of recognition as he relaxed a bit, as most people did when given something familiar. "I locked myself out of her apartment and she's at work. I'd call her but I left my cellphone inside, of course." She rolled her eyes at herself while he chuckled in understanding. "Can I use your phone?"

The man hesitated only a second or two before he stepped back, nodding. "Sure, I'll grab it for you." He made sure she caught the door to hold it open while he walked further into his apartment to find his phone. Claire glanced over her shoulder, shrugging at Sylar as she stepped in as well.

Sylar had retreated when she'd knocked on the door, not wanting to make whatever story she'd have to come up with on the fly that much harder with the addition of another warm body. One delivery person or police officer or whatever she came up with was hard enough to explain, but two made no logical sense, most of the time, and when he heard what she went with, he was glad he'd had the foresight to back off. Once she had her foot in the door, though, he wasn't about to let her have all the fun.

Quickly and quietly, he followed after them, slipping into the dingy apartment, then breaking off from them to head for the kitchen. He lingered there, just inside the doorway and out of line of sight, and listened, waiting for a cue from Claire to come out and play. He didn't want to strip her of her chance to have a little fun of her own if she wanted to, but he knew she'd need him eventually, since she hadn't quite figured out how to kill with telekinesis yet, and that was fine by him. After four months, he was more than happy to take first dibs.

Claire let the door close quietly behind her as Sylar slipped away to hide into the kitchen. Reaching over, she turned the lock slowly to keep the loud quick from signaling to the guy that she was up to something. Of course, he would have a clue when he walked over to hand her the phone and found that she had shut the door. Still, he didn't worry and he even had a smile for her.

She smiled back, reaching to take the phone but then she changed directions at the last second to touch the inside of his wrist as she called up her ability to push a rush of heat through him. His breath shuddered while his heart started to race in response, the effect of her sexual persuasion affecting him nicely. Clearly he had already been attracted to her considering how easily he seemed to fold under her touch.

"Thank you." She murmured, watching his gaze as he lost a bit of focus. Taking the phone, she smiled sweetly. "Got anything to drink?" She asked as he stepped closer to her. She knew Sylar was already waiting in the kitchen and it was the furthest room from the rest of the building. Probably a lot less noise to be heard then.

"Sure." He murmured, turning away from her even though he didn't want to leave her presence. As he did, she leaned down to turn up the movie he had been watching. Might as well drown out what was going to happen next.

Knowing the guy was coming, Sylar moved further into the kitchen, backpedaling silently until his legs touched the stove, then following the counter top around until it ended in the corner near the door. He stood there, unmoving save for a faint wince as the lights came on and his eyes adjusted, and watched as the guy started rooting through the cupboards for a glass, then moved to put himself between the door and their mark, blocking his exit. He couldn't help but grin when the other man turned back and dropped his glass in surprise, the heat of his arousal sudden running cold.

"What the fu -- "

He held up a hand, fingers curling in dead space, and he choked on his words, his hands flying to his throat to claw there, trying to reclaim his breath. Sylar watched him for a moment, huffing out a sigh of a laugh, then flattened his palm in mid-air, pushing him back against the refrigerator hard, pinning him there, the collection of junk on top of it rattling in protest. He didn't start cutting immediately, though, instead glancing lazily over his shoulder, half-expecting Claire to come and watch.

Claire savored the gargling noise that came from the man when Sylar cut off his words, no doubt choking him with his telekinetic ability. Looking around, she was careful not to touch anything as she made her way towards the kitchen to slide around the corner where she paused once the two of them came into view.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave a pleased little smirk at the fact that Sylar had been kind enough to wait before he started sawing into the guy. At one time she hadn't been able to endure the sight of what he was going to do next but now she found herself looking forward to it. It was a rush because it confirmed that he was getting better but it was also because she could watch with a critical eye. She needed to learn how to take abilities after all.

He shuffled over a step or two, allowing her both a clear view of their victim and his hands from where she was standing, then raised a finger, leveling it with the guy's hairline. He cast a glance back at her, fingers of the hand holding the other man in place flexing as he put extra pressure on his chest to stop him from struggling, and offered her a small, cruel smile.

"It's like using a knife or a scalpel." He turned back to the man, jabbing his finger at his hairline. A soft, pained noise followed as a bright red dot appeared on his skin. "You just -- I can feel it. The resistance from the skin and bone. How much pressure to use. I can just -- just tell."

He pressed a little harder, and the spot of blood became a jagged little mark on his forehead, the howl of telekinesis through the first little bit of his skull no where near loud enough to cover the yelp of agony that followed. Sylar smiled just a bit more, the sound something he found he missed, no matter how long or short a time it had been. "After that, it's easy. Just cut."

The guy had gotten the hint now and he hissed out something, begging for his life. Sylar took it in, humming pleasure, but he largely ignored him, finally and quickly sawing into his head, suddenly desperate to see what there was to see now that his work had begun.

Claire moved closer to him, stopping a few feet from his side as she tilted her head. It was a dark and almost comedic scene as they talked back and forth like they were committing a science experiment instead of a murder. "But my problem is that I can't seem to focus it enough to use it like a knife or a scalpel. I'd end up bashing his head in instead."

Narrowing her eyes at the man, she watched the blood well up from the cut as the sawing noise filled her ears. It was a haunting sound, one that she was all too familiar with, but it didn't bring the horror that it once did. Instead she envied Sylar and his control, wishing desperately that she had the same control that he did. It would take her time but it frustrated her that she didn't have it now.

A little frown marred her features as she waited for him to be done, taking a step closer to watch him as he went looking for the ability.

Finished with the cut, he lowered the guy to the ground slowly, letting his head leave a wet, messy smear against the white of the refrigerator doors. Then trembling with want, like an addict in need of a fix, he moved over to him, lowering himself to his knees so he could drag his head into his lap. He'd have to sneak upstairs when they got home to change his jeans, but right now it didn't matter -- right now, he had his fingers in the guy's ruined skull, searching for answers.

"You have to imagine it," he told her, his voice distant and dimly strained. "Or like ... using your fingernails to peel an orange. Same principle."

He could have continued making suggestions all night -- three more had sprung to mind when he'd mentioned peeling an orange -- but instead he stopped short, humming in pain, and closed his eyes tightly. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, there and then gone in an instant, and winced, a whimper falling out of him in spite himself. Clearly he had found what he was looking for and, as always, it hurt.

She took everything that he had to say into consideration, all while deciding that she should get some oranges from the grocery store when they made the stop. One because she could use them to practice on but also because she actually enjoyed eating oranges. Watching Sylar as he hauled the guy's head onto his lap, she mentally kicked herself for forgetting to grab a change of clothes for him. She had been getting good about taking care of that back in the past but not working with him for four months had caused some old habits to slip away.

When he whimpered, she pulled herself out of her reverie and she bit back a sigh as she wished once again that he could do that without causing himself pain. "Got it?" She asked after a few moments, eying the corpse critically.

for writer's block table: awake (rp for its_notluck)

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