Sylar

The rain came down in endless sheets, making a muddy swamp of the carnival grounds. No one had bothered venturing outside for morning chores, anything that could possibly have be accomplished likely to get ruined by the rain, and for the first time that Sylar had been there, there had been no morning meeting for breakfast and chatter. Everyone had understandably confined themselves to their trailers, and standing by the window, watching the storm rage outside, he wondered if anyone would be going anywhere today.

He shot a glance over his shoulder at Mohinder, milling about their small living space in what passed for a morning routine, and then moved towards the door. "I'll be right back," he called over the rain as he pulled the door open. "I'm going to run across the way and ask Samuel what's going on as far as today goes."

Mohinder said something but it was lost to the sounds of the storm, and he stepped outside, racing across the semi-circle of trailers to Samuel's, hoping that somehow he wouldn't get wet. Apparently, though, he didn't hold that sort of power, and by the time the barker came to answer the door, he was soaked and shivering, the rain cold despite it being the first week of May. Samuel arched his eyebrows, bemused, and then stepped out of the door way, gesturing him inside.

"Thanks," he murmured, resisting the urge to pick at his soggy shirt.

Samuel hummed, moving back to the table and the half-finished breakfast on it, and he felt immediately guilty. He hadn't thought that the other man would be in the middle of something -- he and Mohinder had eaten when it seemed the rain wasn't letting up -- and he muttered an apology. Samuel waved it off. "It's fine. Come and sit down."

He moved to take the seat opposite the barker, still feeling like a kid who had interrupted his parents' big business dinner. If Samuel noticed this, however, he ignored it, instead casting a glance over his shoulder at the skillet he'd left on the stove. "There's bacon still, if you're hungry. It's probably gone a bit cold, but you're welcome to it if that doesn't bother you."

He got to his feet almost hurriedly, grabbing one of the paper plates that sat on the counter, and helped himself to some of the bacon. Samuel huffed out a sigh of a laugh, and took a bite of his own bacon. "If I'd known you hadn't eaten, I'd have offered before you sat down."

"We -- Mohinder and I sort of already had breakfast," he admitted somewhat sheepishly as he returned to the table. "It's -- I've just been ... "

"Hungry for something you can't put your finger on?" Samuel suggested.

"Yeah."

No, not really. Saying he was hungry for something was accurate at least, that way of putting it stirring the ghosts of memory he carried around but could never truly pin down, but it was still wrong somehow. This wasn't a craving for a particular type of food -- he'd established that much even before he'd run around the carnival, trying everything they had to offer -- this was something else. Something with the same seductively dark edges touching Mohinder or using his abilities had, and while a part of him wanted desperately to know what it was exactly, another part wanted nothing more than to run in the other direction. Which, he supposed, explained why he'd eaten so much over the last few weeks; he was hoping that maybe he was wrong, that maybe, finally, he'd find whatever it was he needed and the feeling would go away.

At least his metabolism supported all the sweets he'd been eating lately.

Sighing, he looked away briefly, staring down at his bacon balefully, and when he looked back up, Samuel was watching him with sharp eyes. He decided instantly that he didn't like that look, regretted coming over here in the first place, and that in mind, he shot up from the table and bolted towards the door. Samuel's voice at his back stopped him.

"Sylar." He didn't dare correct him and couldn't bring himself to turn around, frozen in place. "Tell Mohinder I said thank you."

His paralysis seemed to break at that, and he dashed out of the trailer, not bothering to even close the door behind him. And as he hurried away, over the constant drone of falling rain, he was almost certain he heard Samuel say something about the lion waking up after all.


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 760
Note: Samuel is offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.

"We are the people our parents warned us about."
- Jimmy Buffett

It was impossible to mimic his usual slink while wearing Matt's face, he decided. The cop had the wrong center of balance, carrying himself more in his pudge than his shoulders as Sylar normally would have. His steps were too heavy no matter how he tried to adjust, his hips too wide, and so on and so forth to the point that he felt that the whole experience was something akin to piloting a whale.

In spite of it all, however, he still made an effort to adjust and reclaim his swagger as he moved through the crowds and lights, trying to track Claire down now that he'd made it to the fairgrounds. He wanted Claire to know him when she saw him, as if their conversation on the phone a few nights ago had left any doubts, and being able to move like he always did seemed the best way to do that. Even if he was sure he looked vaguely ridiculous. At least, thankfully, Matt hadn't bothered to comment on his gait. Otherwise, though, he hadn't shut up.

"You sure this is a good idea?" the cop asked, following at his heels with a frown plastered on his face. "I mean, for all you know, this could be a trap."

"She asked me to bargain." A man they passed gave him an odd look at the fact that he seemed to be talking to himself, but Sylar ignored him. In a handful of minutes, he wouldn't be having this problem. "She wanted me to spare your pathetic little life -- she wouldn't have bothered if she didn't have something to trade. Which means my body's here, somewhere. I just need to find it."

( "Or she could just be playing you," Matt shot back. "I mean, I hate to break it to you man, but you kinda tipped your hand pretty quick when she called." )


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1089
Note: Samuel is offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse. The use of Matt is not directed at a specific journal.

For being January, it was unnaturally warm, fog winding up from the streets as the snow that spotted them melted, shrouding the streetlights in a haze. Long, dark shadows stretched across the sidewalk, fighting a winning battle against what little light managed to get through the gloom, and the whole night was unnaturally quiet, as if the things that usually lurked in the dark were afraid to make a sound. Or like they were waiting for something.

Whatever the reason for their silence, though, Sylar knew one thing for certain. The whole scene was like something out of horror movie, stereotypical and perfect for what he had planned, and as he moved up the street towards Bennet's apartment, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd lied about not being able to kill Claire; he had the perfect idea as to how to end her and end her permanently now.

Pausing outside of the restaurant that Bennet kept his apartment above, he took a moment to consider the sign on the door. He'd have to get sushi later, whether or not he was covered in blood, and that in mind, he rounded the building, bounding up the steps to the apartment, nearly manic with glee. He knocked on the door and leaned against the railing behind him as he waited for Claire to answer the door, still grinning.

( This time, he wouldn't have to worry about being stabbed. )


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 4358
Note: Based off of this picture. Samuel is offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.