heroslayer | rp for youngerpetrelli: i have measured out my life with coffee s

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rp for youngerpetrelli: i have measured out my life with coffee s

(Continuing from this, since

youngerpetrelli and I kinda broke my comments. Eheh. Oops?)

Sylar nodded. "I did, yes. But not because Nakamura stabbed me."

He tried to keep himself from sneering, really he did, but in the end, he couldn't stop his lips from twisting, albeit marginally. There was simply too much hate, when it came to the little, sword-wielding sonovabitch. And, even beyond that, there were too many bad memories centered around Kirby Plaza--even beyond his defeat and near-death.

"The Company found me," he explained after a pause. "They took me to Mexico. Stitched me up, where I'd been stabbed. And then gave me some kind of virus that took my abilities away."

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"Well, I never gave it much thought," he mused, "but I would always try to stay up late when I was a kid. Kind of assumed that was because Nathan was still awake and I didn't want to go to bed while I knew he'd still be up. But in nursing school, when we had rotations I never minded the late night ER shifts, and I'd stay up ridiculous hours studying..." He shrugged. "I honestly don't know -- I kind of like sleeping..."

He thought he knew what Sylar was getting at, though, and he cocked his head, studying his brother. "Do you find yourself eating more after you've had to heal significant damage?" Because god knew, between the speedster power he'd picked up from that woman in the future, and healing serious damage, his appetite could go into overdrive...

Sylar nodded, reaching on reflex to cover the hand he'd injured--his dominant hand, his left one--with the other. "I lost two of my fingers the other night," he told him. "They grew back, but since then, it feels like I haven't stopped eating."

He'd done big lunches and dinners, since then. Ate breakfast, when he knew for a fact he usually skipped it, since eating first thing in the morning always made him feel sick to his stomach for a reason he'd never been able to pin down. And he was pretty sure he owned stock at the ice cream place on Times Square, for how many times he'd stopped for a snack, since it had happened.

"I thought that was just me." A pause, in which he cocked his head to one side curiously, and then, "Side effect of Adam's ability?"

He raised an eyebrow, looked closely at Sylar's hand. There was no evidence of any injury -- not that he had expected one, but as a nurse he found it fascinating that they could actually regrow lost parts without even the smallest scar. "Did... did Dad do that to you?" he asked quietly, before pulling his attention back to their discussion.

"I think it's a side effect of any ability that either taxes or raises the metabolism. I've noticed it when I heal, definitely, but other things seem to affect it, too. Medically and biologically, it makes sense. It's just a pain in the butt when it comes to grocery shopping."

"Indirectly." Sylar rubbed at the fingers he'd lost absently, as if he didn't even realize he was doing it, and then dropped his hand away. "I'm assuming they had a precog, because I got a twenty-one gun welcoming squad."

He'd managed to stop most of the bullets--he'd missed two, one going through his shoulder, the other through his leg--but regardless, it still hadn't been his idea of a good time. Nor had following the teleporter through the halls been a favorite pastime of his, since, "There was a teleporter that was leading them. A woman. She closed a maglock door on my hand when I got close." He offered his brother a wry smile. "I guess I should be thankful I didn't lose my entire hand."

Unconsciously, he flexed his fingers as if they still hurt, somehow--impossible--and then, like Peter, he re-centered himself on more pleasant conversation. "I haven't had a problem with it before. This is the first real ability I have that's affected my metabolism." Even his telekinesis didn't put a strain on his body like this had. His mind, yes, as he could remember exhausting himself more than once, while lifting something particularly heavy, but not his body. "It does make sense, though."

"Yikes -- that sounds... really organized," he said, wondering if there would be any kind of retaliation for what Sylar had done, or if whatever group their father had put together would come apart without his leadership. With a precog and a teleporter and god knew what else, they could still be quite a threat...

He cocked his head, studied Sylar again. "What about Ted's ability? After Kirby Plaza, I was starving..." He thought for a moment, then added, "And the speedster's ability definitely burns up a lot of calories..."

"I hadn't thought about Ted's ability," he answered honestly, shrugging his eyebrows. "I don't use it very often."

In fact, the last time he had, it had been the EMP half of the ability, to take out the cameras in the halls of the Company, when he and Adam had gone for Maury. And being suddenly telepathic, no matter how good his control, had been so much of a shock that he hadn't even noticed a change in his appetite. Especially not when, at the time, Suresh had been nearly dead with illness, his first attempt at giving himself an ability an utter failure.

The memory fell away when Peter mentioned the speedster, however, and he tilted his head to one side. "Speedster?"

He nodded, "Yeah, same here, believe me." The last time had been more than enough for a lifetime considering he had nearly killed Nathan with it, and after what had happened in the future... "At least it's under control now."

He looked up in surprise, then realized he hadn't mentioned the attack squad -- and for good reason. "Yeah -- a blonde girl I ran into in the future. Super speed, like the Flash in the comics..."

He hummed agreement, letting the subject go, because he knew exactly where Peter's thoughts had gone. Kirby Plaza. And while he wasn't particularly concerned whether or not it bothered Peter, his stake in thing was still a sore spot, whether he had survived or not. So, he focused on his brother's newest acquisition instead, trying to quell the urge to know how that worked.

"That must be useful."

He shrugged slightly. "I haven't used it too much -- I... usually teleport if I have to get somewhere fast. Draws less attention than a sudden whoosh of air..."

"Still, though. Your reflexes in a fight, because of that ... " He shakes his head, just imagining it. It would be, for lack of better comparison, like bullet-time in the Matrix.

He nodded, "Yeah, it did help there, definitely. Probably the only time I'd use it, though." He grinned, getting a little flash of thought from his brother and nodding. Without even thinking about where the flash came from, he said, "One of my favourite movies..."

"So you can still read my mind," he murmured. There was no malice in his tone, however, no sense that Peter had betrayed him by peeking into his thoughts or had been able to catch something thought too loud, just amusement. He thought it was hysterical that Peter had picked up on that, of all things.

"It's one of mine, too."

"Um -- sorry." It was quite likely a sign that he was actually relaxing more around his brother, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was good or bad. It meant he wasn't paying as much attention to shielding or blocking. But he still grinned and started laughing softly. "Bonding over coffee, abilities, and a science fiction movie full of religious allegory. We really are in the Twilight Zone, aren't we?"

"It's fine," he promised, shrugging a little. So long as Peter didn't go poking around in the deeper parts of his mind and stuck only to surface thoughts, he couldn't care less. "But it is strange."

Not that he minded, and in case his brother hadn't picked up on that, he pointed it out for him. "It's ... a welcome change, though."

He smiled, although a little puzzled. "Is it?"

Sylar raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to one side, amused. "You'd rather we were trying to kill each other?"

He laughed softly, "No, but to be honest, somehow I thought you would be. I'm glad you aren't."

The killer shrugged.

By all rights, he should have been bothered by this conversation. It was still somewhat of a shock that this was his brother after all and, barring that, there was still so much bad blood between them. He'd killed Peter--twice, if what the empath said was right--and Peter hadn't done anything when Nakamura had decided to run him through. Not that he could have or would have, all things considered, but there would forever be the lingering thought of why didn't you save me? That is what heroes do, isn't it? And never mind the fact that the other man was still ticking away deliciously.

Somehow, however, he'd managed to shoulder all of that. To put it out of mind--to continue to put it out of mind--and it had made for a rather pleasant meeting. "I thought I would be, too," he said, finally. "It's ... strange. When I first walked in here, I didn't expect this to be pleasant."

He nodded, understanding. After all, when he walked in there, he was very, very glad they were in a public place. "Yeah. I was kind of... nervous."

He smiled a little and said, "I had this worry that we'd end up trying to kill each other and causing a mass panic..."

"Maybe next time," he answered, though judging from the smile on his lips, it was easy to tell that he was kidding. Mostly.

He couldn't hold back a quiet snort of laughter in response to that. "Well, we'd have the coffee all to ourselves..."

He knew they weren't friends -- and he wasn't sure he wanted them to be -- but they could definitely be allies against the bigger threats out there. And he wasn't too proud to admit that he needed his brother's help.

Sylar offered a small, amused noise--not exactly a laugh, but not entirely that far removed from it, either. "We could take coffee breaks, in between trying to kill each other."

He grinned and nodded, "Coffee truces -- kind of like a Christmas truce, but probably not as inspiring..."

"Not particularly," he agreed, flashing his brother a small smile. "But it's something we can agree on, at least."

Funny how he had, apparently, found another point of commonality between the two of them in making jokes about killing him.

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rp for youngerpetrelli: i have measured out my life with coffee s

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