rp for genetic_fate: dust is a protective coating for fine furnit

[heroslayer]

To say that Sylar's apartment had clearly been abandoned for some time would have been an understatement. A fine layer of dust coated everything, dulling everything from the furniture to the walls in such a way that the room looked like an old photograph. Spiders had taken up residence in the corners of the room at one point, and then vacated, leaving dark, filthy cobwebs in their wake. And as they pushed into the apartment, they left footprints in the grime. It was a mess, and immediately, the killer frowned; he was nothing if not cleanly, and this was a disaster.

"Guess I haven't been home in awhile," he commented dryly, casting a look back at Mohinder. "Give me a minute, and I'll clean up." They needed this space, after all, and he was more than certain that the geneticist wouldn't want the dust and disuse skewing the results of his research.

That in mind, he moved into the kitchen, shifting the microscope he'd been carrying into one hand, so he had use of the other. Then, with an almost idle gesture, the layer of grime on the table was scattering to the floor, motes of dust swirling to the wood floors like fine falling snow. Unfortunately, however, this didn't seem to be enough for the killer, as before the dust had even settled, he was moving for the cabinet under the sink, hoping he could find something to wipe the table down with.

If he still had his cleaning supplies, this wouldn't take long at all.

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[heroslayer]

Within the span of a few minutes, Sylar had managed to find a scrub brush. No soap--he probably hadn't replaced it, after he'd escaped from the Company and returned his things to their rightful places--but maybe he wouldn't need it. He could put extra pressure on the table with his telekinesis, after all, and scrub away the remains of the dust with little to no problem.

Or, well, it would have been little to no problem if he hadn't turned around to find Mohinder already working, in spite of his search for something to clean with.

He sighed, returning the brush to its place under the sink, and leaned back against the counter, watching him. "Guess it's clean enough for you," he muttered, not entirely expecting Mohinder to grace him with an answer.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Letting out the slightest grunt - the kind that tells the conversation partner that they were aware words had been spoken, but had not really taken them in - Mohinder was already syringing Maya's blood sample into a tube, pipetting a small drop onto a microscope slide and peering at it intently.

He was muttering to himself, too, under his breath, a string of words that made no sense said out loud together but were all logically linked in the geneticist's mind.

[heroslayer]

It took all of the killer's willpower not to roll his eyes. He couldn't blame Suresh, he supposed--this was important to him, and the level of concentration required was most likely on par with his own, when he took a new ability. Mohinder hadn't bothered him then, with petty conversation or otherwise, so he supposed he could return the favor, even if he didn't particularly like the idea of being ignored.

Sighing, he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly, before watching Mohinder for a moment. The babbling was disturbing, but then again, he'd never actually seen the geneticist at work--maybe this was commonplace rather than a product of what madness he'd inflicted upon him--and so he dismissed it. A glance was shot into his living room, and then he was headed that way. Maybe he'd find a book to read to pass the time while his geneticist worked; it would be better than standing there staring at him, after all.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Sylar could have stayed and watched, for all that Mohinder took any notice of him. His mind was one hundred percent on the work that he was doing, not even aware that the other man had moved away.

It took a long time, over an hour, for him to finally believe that his serum was ready. A serum that would affect his hormones, rather than just swim through his blood. A serum that would affect his biochemistry permanently, rather than the 24-hour shots he had previously been giving himself.

Unaware of what to expect, whether anything would happen at all, he filled the syringe and plunged it into his arm.

[heroslayer]

In the meantime, while the geneticist worked, Sylar had taken it upon himself to try cleaning up his bookshelf a little, dust on the spines of once much loved books far too thick to see what was written on them, let alone try and take one down and read it. That done, he'd picked one of his anatomy books--not that he didn't already know the damn thing by heart already--moved over to one of the armchairs near the window, and considered his would-be seat for a moment. Then, with an idle gesture, he was stripping the chair of its plastic covering, not wanting to be bothered with having to clean that, too, and settled down in it to thumb through the book with half-hearted interest. He may not have been in the same room as Mohinder anymore, but he was more interested in listening to him work than he was actually focusing on his reading.

And that in mind, when he heard the Indian still for a moment, he presumed him done. Setting the book down in the fine snow of grime on the end table, he pulled himself to his feet, and moved towards the kitchen. He was just in time to watch Mohinder inject himself with whatever he'd made from Maya's blood and to hope that the other man didn't accidentally kill himself in a moment of misplaced zeal. This newest version of Mohinder's serum hadn't been tested as of yet, after all; it was a distinct possibility.

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Nothing much happened when Mohinder injected himself; at least, there was no sudden stabbing pain in his head like the times before. Bewildered, he looked up as he heard Sylar approach, opening his mouth to say that his plan had failed.

But, before he managed to get a word out, the pain finally hit. Far worse than he remembered, he staggered weakly in the other man's direction, hands flying out to grip something - anything - that he could use to keep himself upright.

Crying out at the pain that racked his entire body, Mohinder fell to his knees, eyes screwed shut as if that could help in some way. Something must have gone wrong, it was the only explanation. And, with that in mind, he passed out on Sylar's kitchen floor.

[heroslayer]

The killer hissed out a swear, eyes wide as Mohinder cried out and then dropped to his knees. In less than the time it to him to blink or the geneticist to close his eyes, he was at his side, arms going around him to keep him from taking a swan-dive into the dusty floor. He held him for a moment, expecting him to roll over, perfectly well in spite of the pain he was clearly in, and exhibit some new, wonderful permanent ability--he sounded like them, already--but nothing happened. Nothing happened, and it was him turning the other man so that he was face up rather than face down, frowning down at him.

"Sonovabitch," he hissed, putting a hand to his shoulder to shake him a little, in an attempt to wake him. "Suresh. Get up."

[genetic-fate.livejournal.com]

Mohinder came round quickly, head still spinning although the pain was dissipating now as quickly as it had come on. Looking up at Sylar, face puzzled and unable to work out for a moment why it was that he was on his back on the kitchen floor, his brow furrowed.

"I... I passed out," he eventually worked out for himself, slowly sitting himself up. "That's... well, that's definitely new."

[heroslayer]

"New," he parroted, frowning as he rocked back on his heels to give the geneticist some space. In all honesty, he wanted to spit out something biting--perhaps a thank you for reporting on the obvious--but he bit his tongue, silent for a moment until the urge passed. Practiced neutrality returned to his face where there had been fear, hastily coated with anger, a moment before, and then, "It worked, at least. You sound like them."

Ticking. Wrong. He did his best to ignore it, taking in a deep breath before focusing his thoughts on the sound of Mohinder's heartbeat in an attempt to down out the cacophony in his head. "Wonder what you can do."

And if it would last this time, which he felt it damn well better, since the idiot had clearly almost killed himself.