Sylar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heroslayer) wrote2009-04-21 02:26 am
heroslayer) wrote2009-04-21 02:26 am
for muses_gonewild: the doorway
"Captain?"
Sylar, or Gabriel Sylar as he was calling himself these days, looked up from the cargo manifest from their most recent job, frowning. Whether the expression was directed at his crewman or had simply been lingering distaste for the simplicity and subsequent tedium of their work, however, was anyone's guess, but regardless, he didn't look happy. And despite the fact that over the course of five hundred and some years, he'd managed to get a handle on his sanity, no longer one to fly off the handle over the smallest of things, there was still an unspoken rule on the ship. When the captain ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. So, naturally, his crewman retreated a few steps to linger in the doorway, not wanting to be caught simply standing in the middle of the common room.
"There's a wave waitin' for you," the boy started finally, considering the floor intently. A pause, and then hesitantly, he added, "It's that man from Londinium."
Not Mohinder--if it had been him, his crewman would have called him by name, or at very least referred to him as the doctor, as had become the norm. Not Sark either, as usually he let Baileigh put out the transmission, and then came on screen only once he was sure Sylar was alone--he was Alliance and they both knew that that wouldn't sit well with his crew, considering most of them were Browncoats. So that left only one person and that explained the mild stab of fear he could sense from the boy.
"Adam." The jury was still out on Adam, though most of his boys were convinced he was bad news in one way or another. It was almost funny, considering the fact that their ship had been a gift from the man himself, and he couldn't help but crack a small smile at the irony. "I'll take it in my cabin."
The kid nodded, retreating back out of the common room in full now, and an instant later, Sylar was on his feet, moving to follow him out, then heading towards his room. Settling down in a chair, he sighed, pressing his fingers to his nose briefly as he hoped this wasn't some sort of bad news, and then he was flicking on the screen on the table. Adam's face appeared on it a moment later, and all hopes for good news evaporated.
"Hello, Gabriel."
"Adam." He nodded a bit, frowning. "What happened?"
The other immortal flashed him a small, wry smile. "You need to come home."
"What happened?" he repeated, teeth clenching, his jaw steeled.
For a moment, Adam looked thoughtful, the sound of his fingers drumming on the desk caught on the recording, then he shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I'm afraid it's more than a little complicated, really, but ... details." He shrugged. "All you really need to know is this: Suresh needs you."
"We're on Persephone. I can be there by tomorrow morning." He barely paused long enough for Adam to register the fact that he had changed the subject, however minutely. "If he's dead or hurt--"
"He's fine," he assured him. "Physically fine, just upset."
"About what?"
"Get here, first. I'll fill you in, after you've seen to him." Assuming Mohinder didn't tell him first, and that much hung in the air, unspoken by either of them.
And Sylar let that linger for a moment, frowning, before he nodded. "I'll be there tomorrow morning," he said again, as if Adam had missed it the first time. Another pause, and then, "I'll see you then."
Then he was killing the screen, on his feet in a flash a second time that day, though this time his destination was the cockpit. He loomed in the doorway when he reached it, his shadow stretching out of his pilot, his niece, that and his expression more than a touch dangerous--something he hadn't been since the war. And forever covering fear with anger, unmoving, he hissed five simple words to Claire.
"Get us to Londinium. Now."
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 671
Note: Adam is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
changehistory and is used with permission.
Sylar, or Gabriel Sylar as he was calling himself these days, looked up from the cargo manifest from their most recent job, frowning. Whether the expression was directed at his crewman or had simply been lingering distaste for the simplicity and subsequent tedium of their work, however, was anyone's guess, but regardless, he didn't look happy. And despite the fact that over the course of five hundred and some years, he'd managed to get a handle on his sanity, no longer one to fly off the handle over the smallest of things, there was still an unspoken rule on the ship. When the captain ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. So, naturally, his crewman retreated a few steps to linger in the doorway, not wanting to be caught simply standing in the middle of the common room.
"There's a wave waitin' for you," the boy started finally, considering the floor intently. A pause, and then hesitantly, he added, "It's that man from Londinium."
Not Mohinder--if it had been him, his crewman would have called him by name, or at very least referred to him as the doctor, as had become the norm. Not Sark either, as usually he let Baileigh put out the transmission, and then came on screen only once he was sure Sylar was alone--he was Alliance and they both knew that that wouldn't sit well with his crew, considering most of them were Browncoats. So that left only one person and that explained the mild stab of fear he could sense from the boy.
"Adam." The jury was still out on Adam, though most of his boys were convinced he was bad news in one way or another. It was almost funny, considering the fact that their ship had been a gift from the man himself, and he couldn't help but crack a small smile at the irony. "I'll take it in my cabin."
The kid nodded, retreating back out of the common room in full now, and an instant later, Sylar was on his feet, moving to follow him out, then heading towards his room. Settling down in a chair, he sighed, pressing his fingers to his nose briefly as he hoped this wasn't some sort of bad news, and then he was flicking on the screen on the table. Adam's face appeared on it a moment later, and all hopes for good news evaporated.
"Hello, Gabriel."
"Adam." He nodded a bit, frowning. "What happened?"
The other immortal flashed him a small, wry smile. "You need to come home."
"What happened?" he repeated, teeth clenching, his jaw steeled.
For a moment, Adam looked thoughtful, the sound of his fingers drumming on the desk caught on the recording, then he shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I'm afraid it's more than a little complicated, really, but ... details." He shrugged. "All you really need to know is this: Suresh needs you."
"We're on Persephone. I can be there by tomorrow morning." He barely paused long enough for Adam to register the fact that he had changed the subject, however minutely. "If he's dead or hurt--"
"He's fine," he assured him. "Physically fine, just upset."
"About what?"
"Get here, first. I'll fill you in, after you've seen to him." Assuming Mohinder didn't tell him first, and that much hung in the air, unspoken by either of them.
And Sylar let that linger for a moment, frowning, before he nodded. "I'll be there tomorrow morning," he said again, as if Adam had missed it the first time. Another pause, and then, "I'll see you then."
Then he was killing the screen, on his feet in a flash a second time that day, though this time his destination was the cockpit. He loomed in the doorway when he reached it, his shadow stretching out of his pilot, his niece, that and his expression more than a touch dangerous--something he hadn't been since the war. And forever covering fear with anger, unmoving, he hissed five simple words to Claire.
"Get us to Londinium. Now."
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 671
Note: Adam is
changehistory and is used with permission.
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*hugs* I missed you this weekend! It's good to have you back. *g*
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*hugs* I missed you, too!
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*nuzz*
BTW.
*NUDGE (http://community.livejournal.com/musemostwanted/15165.html)*