Sylar (
heroslayer) wrote2008-10-26 05:00 pm
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Entry tags:
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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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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"It's one of mine, too."
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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."
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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."
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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..."
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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.
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Funny how he had, apparently, found another point of commonality between the two of them in making jokes about killing him.