heroslayer | for mad

He takes a deep breath, eyes still closed as his head settles, and leans back against the wall.

He's been half-stalking this one for months now, in between pretending to be Claire and terrorizing Erin and her two man army, but he's never bothered to touch him. It's a small town, and while it's no secret that he's ben hanging around -- she must have told them, by now -- he doesn't want to give them a reason to come after him. He doesn't want the game to change, doesn't want to have to go on the defensive when he's been enjoying playing offense so much, so he's always stayed his hand.

But they're changing the game without him, leaving for New York in a little over a week so that Erin can play at a normal life, and so he figures he can bend the rules. Whatever he does now won't make them stay, so he figures he has a free pass. Not that he doesn't plan on following them -- Claire is set to go with them -- but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when he might not be back this way for quite some time, if the girl takes to the city like Peter assures her she will.

Besides, he never got his new best friend a graduation gift.

A small smile curving his lips, he pushes away from the brick he sagged against, hovering over the mess he made again. He studies the corpse for a moment, fingers reaching to trace lines he's already followed in the ruined pulp that remains of her head, and then he lets his hand drift lower. He comes to a halt over the dead girl's heart, fingers linger there briefly as he tries to decide if it would be the best present of what remains. A nod -- his second choice, the girl's hands, don't quite get across the message he wants to send -- and he traces a circle over her shirt, telekinesis howling through cloth and skin and bone.

Viciously, he strips away what he's cut, fingers diving into tissue without hesitation as if this were a pumpkin he's taken the lid off rather than the remains of something living. His fingers curl around her heart, and with another few, violent thoughts, he's managed to free her heart, pulling it out slowly. He turns it over in his hands, the thing almost invisible on the backdrop of red his hand has become, and then satisfied, he's getting to his feet.

"Better than a Hallmark Card," he murmurs, as he heads for the opposite end of the alley.

Tucking the heart into his pocket, he meanders down the street in search of a place to buy a box, without fear of getting caught. Candace's ability will take care of that, and he has more important things on his mind -- like wondering whether or not Erin will like her present.

Even if she doesn't, though, he can at least content himself in the knowledge that it wouldn't be anything personal. This, like everything else -- like convincing her that Claude was dead, last night -- is all just a part of their game.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 542
Note: Written for