Gabriel Gray (Sylar) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
complexharmony) wrote2020-11-20 05:38 pm
complexharmony) wrote2020-11-20 05:38 pm
Overflow. Open Post. Captcha. Etc
( Brackets / Prose / Text / Audio / Video )
( Brackets / Prose / Text / Audio / Video )
((continued from here))
I can be anywhere I need to be in no time at all. Carried there on the wings of an angel, and the sins of a devil.
( It was a pretty metaphor at least. In actuality, Sylar's method of flight is more levitation, a gift so generously donated, and very recently. He's still washing the blood off his hands when he sends that message. Telekinesis worked wonders for his texting speed.
A liberal use of soap and bleach rids his skin of the evidence and a thorough cleaning of his nails takes care of the brain matter. Then... lift-off. It's exhilarating, he's like a rocket minus jet fuel.He lands somewhere close to the address, in a tree, catching several branches on the way down. With a frustrated wave he sends all bits of branches off and out of his body. A moment to heal and brush away the dirt from his clothes and hair, then he'll stroll casually towards the spot, looking for...
Well. Actually. He's not entirely certain. He sends off a message. )
Should I look for a bowl of nuggets?
What do you look like?
I can be anywhere I need to be in no time at all. Carried there on the wings of an angel, and the sins of a devil.
( It was a pretty metaphor at least. In actuality, Sylar's method of flight is more levitation, a gift so generously donated, and very recently. He's still washing the blood off his hands when he sends that message. Telekinesis worked wonders for his texting speed.
A liberal use of soap and bleach rids his skin of the evidence and a thorough cleaning of his nails takes care of the brain matter. Then... lift-off. It's exhilarating, he's like a rocket minus jet fuel.He lands somewhere close to the address, in a tree, catching several branches on the way down. With a frustrated wave he sends all bits of branches off and out of his body. A moment to heal and brush away the dirt from his clothes and hair, then he'll stroll casually towards the spot, looking for...
Well. Actually. He's not entirely certain. He sends off a message. )
Should I look for a bowl of nuggets?
What do you look like?
( This is the weirdest blind date he's ever ... wait, this is the only blind date he's been on, now that he thinks about it. Or, at least, he can't remember being on a blind one before. How he got this person's number was beyond him. He can't recall the night before, and whoever's number he meant to obtain was likely placed in his phone incorrectly, either by himself or by another?
He tries not to worry too much about the details. It'll just piss him off. This encounter happened because he overdid it the night before. It wasn't his first, nor will it be his last. Fuck he felt dumb though, it should be his last time doing it, but he knows better.
He receives another text, and he snorts. He hadn't actually ordered a kid's meal. He was on his third beer and the second basket of bread, however. He calls over a waiter and gives them instructions before he texts back. )
Tell them you're with Hank.
He tries not to worry too much about the details. It'll just piss him off. This encounter happened because he overdid it the night before. It wasn't his first, nor will it be his last. Fuck he felt dumb though, it should be his last time doing it, but he knows better.
He receives another text, and he snorts. He hadn't actually ordered a kid's meal. He was on his third beer and the second basket of bread, however. He calls over a waiter and gives them instructions before he texts back. )
Tell them you're with Hank.
( He's contemplating how he should play this when the next message arrives. The meek, subservient watchmaker, easily malleable? Or lay bare the confident predator he was, unafraid and in control?
The decision is made for him when he spots the assortment of beer bottles on the table and empty bread baskets. That'd explain the desire for a good time, dismissing his offerings as 'terrible'. Or, did the man even know those messages were sent to the same recipient? He smiles in a sneer that doesn't fully form, tempered by some modicum of control. Oh, this ought to be fun.
Gabriel sits down, affecting an easygoing air, found on countless other college students between exams. Young, eager, varying degrees of innocence. Something the old relic would enjoy. His voice is soft cotton and kitten purrs when he speaks. )
Hi, Hank. I'm Gabriel. We, ah, we were texting back and fourth...?
( His hands worry together, tucking themselves into his layered sleeves before he moves one of them forward and offers his hand to shake. )
The decision is made for him when he spots the assortment of beer bottles on the table and empty bread baskets. That'd explain the desire for a good time, dismissing his offerings as 'terrible'. Or, did the man even know those messages were sent to the same recipient? He smiles in a sneer that doesn't fully form, tempered by some modicum of control. Oh, this ought to be fun.
Gabriel sits down, affecting an easygoing air, found on countless other college students between exams. Young, eager, varying degrees of innocence. Something the old relic would enjoy. His voice is soft cotton and kitten purrs when he speaks. )
Hi, Hank. I'm Gabriel. We, ah, we were texting back and fourth...?
( His hands worry together, tucking themselves into his layered sleeves before he moves one of them forward and offers his hand to shake. )
Edited 2020-11-23 02:55 (UTC)
( Hank spends his time in limbo watching everyone that passes. Most of them wore the restaurant's uniform and was, obviously, not his mystery guest. Not too long of a wait before a promising candidate follows a waiter, and right past Hank's table, he pulls in an audible breath and huffs it right back out. He felt like an idiot. He had no idea what he was doing, in a sense that he had no idea what prompted him to follow through with this sort of encounter.
Well, a few things came to mind, but he doesn't like to acknowledge the insight he has into his behaviors. This particular one stems from loneliness and the need, the desire, for human connection. Hank's more common behaviors derived from recklessness and suicidal ideation. He lifts a beer to his lips and swallows back the remaining last gulps. He sets the beer down. His eyes fall to another waiter leading a young kid. Even as the dark-haired boy sits down at his table, Hank's waiting for the stranger to pass him.
Until he says his name. Gabriel? Didn't this kid say something about fucking flying with an angel? What the fuck... )
You're fucking shitting me. ( He stares at the hand outstretched to him. He neglects to take it. )
Well, a few things came to mind, but he doesn't like to acknowledge the insight he has into his behaviors. This particular one stems from loneliness and the need, the desire, for human connection. Hank's more common behaviors derived from recklessness and suicidal ideation. He lifts a beer to his lips and swallows back the remaining last gulps. He sets the beer down. His eyes fall to another waiter leading a young kid. Even as the dark-haired boy sits down at his table, Hank's waiting for the stranger to pass him.
Until he says his name. Gabriel? Didn't this kid say something about fucking flying with an angel? What the fuck... )
You're fucking shitting me. ( He stares at the hand outstretched to him. He neglects to take it. )
( Gabriel releases a small huff of air, somewhere between an exhale and laughter, accentuated by a wry smile. His tongue flickers out briefly licking at his upper lip as he draws his hand back. )
Ah, no, I'm afraid I am not in the habit of doing... well, that.
( The smile shifts to something akin to nervousness, his eyes wide and unassuming. But there's something within them, if anyone looked close enough, a keen sharpness just beneath the disguise. When the waiter comes by, Gabriel orders exactly what was promised: nuggets with a side of mac n cheese, plus apple juice. It would be terribly unhealthy, he knew, but it wasn't something he needed to worry about any longer.
Food handled, he watches Hank for a moment, taking in the disheveled appearance, the hair too long and beard too stringy. He could see how he worked, predict his next move. But what broke him? What secrets lie within that mind? He cants his head, focusing now on the wristwatch. Exactly twelve seconds tick by. )
Your watch is two minutes slow. I could fix that for you. ( He looks up, meeting those tired eyes directly. ) If you'll permit me...?
Ah, no, I'm afraid I am not in the habit of doing... well, that.
( The smile shifts to something akin to nervousness, his eyes wide and unassuming. But there's something within them, if anyone looked close enough, a keen sharpness just beneath the disguise. When the waiter comes by, Gabriel orders exactly what was promised: nuggets with a side of mac n cheese, plus apple juice. It would be terribly unhealthy, he knew, but it wasn't something he needed to worry about any longer.
Food handled, he watches Hank for a moment, taking in the disheveled appearance, the hair too long and beard too stringy. He could see how he worked, predict his next move. But what broke him? What secrets lie within that mind? He cants his head, focusing now on the wristwatch. Exactly twelve seconds tick by. )
Your watch is two minutes slow. I could fix that for you. ( He looks up, meeting those tired eyes directly. ) If you'll permit me...?
( Hank watches the kid order his fucking meal off the kid's menu - even with the employee's expression flickering between hospitable to quizzical, Gabriel's confidence exudes compliance for his request. Hank held his breath for a moment and watched the waiter slip away. Hank's eyes fall back on the younger man's face; Gabriel eyes the table before Hank. The older man lowers his eyes and tries to spy what it was Gabriel was seeing. That is until the youth gave it away with the comment about his watch. Hank's eyes his watch, his hand comes up, and he turns it as he cocks his head, a frown to his lips. )
You want to fix my watch? ( He settles his hand back onto the table and raises his eyes to Gabriel's. ) Alright. I guess, if you want to earn your meal.
You want to fix my watch? ( He settles his hand back onto the table and raises his eyes to Gabriel's. ) Alright. I guess, if you want to earn your meal.
( Gabriel shakes his head, his brows furrowed over his eyes. )
You misunderstand me. It's not about earning anything. It's simply a technological imperative.
( From his pants pocket he retrieves a small kit, sets it on the table, and pops it open so Hank could see the contents within. )
You misunderstand me. It's not about earning anything. It's simply a technological imperative.
( From his pants pocket he retrieves a small kit, sets it on the table, and pops it open so Hank could see the contents within. )
( Hank takes in a deep breath, unfastens the watch and slides it over with a soft exhalation. Time wasn't necessarily all that imperative to him; punctuality was a trait he'd left behind years ago. He was also sort of just joking, but this kid seems awfully too serious. )
Can't imagine me running two minutes behind on my schedule?
( He eyes the kit. Impressed by the little first-aid set up the kid had with him. Like some sort of wrist watch doctor, always on call. )
Can't imagine me running two minutes behind on my schedule?
( He eyes the kit. Impressed by the little first-aid set up the kid had with him. Like some sort of wrist watch doctor, always on call. )
( He takes it and holds it up to his ear, listening more closely to its lagging gears. Mm...hm....There. Once he's located the problem, he sets it on the table as well and gets to work. )
The schedule isn't important. Time is a flexible construct, like a flowing river. There's parallels, alternates, even events we cannot foresee happening consecutively adjacent to us.
( His hands move with a dexterous flurry over the tools and watch, prying open its casing with an expert touch. )
What is important, Hank, is the puzzle. The mystery. I like to know how things work. And a watch is a complex piece of machinery. The slightest alteration to the gears, something off kilter, and everything becomes wrong.
( A little more prodding, moving the timepiece's innards around. There's a small adjustment and he closes his eyes, bending close to listen. Smiling with satisfaction, he wraps it back up, and hands it back to the older man. )
There. Now you'll be on time. Or have more freedom to ignore its accuracy.
The schedule isn't important. Time is a flexible construct, like a flowing river. There's parallels, alternates, even events we cannot foresee happening consecutively adjacent to us.
( His hands move with a dexterous flurry over the tools and watch, prying open its casing with an expert touch. )
What is important, Hank, is the puzzle. The mystery. I like to know how things work. And a watch is a complex piece of machinery. The slightest alteration to the gears, something off kilter, and everything becomes wrong.
( A little more prodding, moving the timepiece's innards around. There's a small adjustment and he closes his eyes, bending close to listen. Smiling with satisfaction, he wraps it back up, and hands it back to the older man. )
There. Now you'll be on time. Or have more freedom to ignore its accuracy.
( Hank's eyes narrow, his head slowly tilting to the right, his focus increasing on Gabriel's calculated movements. His fingers were steady, delicate, strong, confident - like that tone he had with the waiter when he asked for a fucking kid's meal. Who was this kid? Hank was a bit surprised, honestly, with how someone so young was so ... knowledgeable on clocks. He would probably be wrong if it were only just wrist watches the boy knows. Hank can imagine a clockmaker's room full of gears, walls decorated with archaic pieces, innards organized in a mess of piles about the room.
Even the way Gabriel took time to listen to the watch was ... odd, as if the wristwatch told him the very fucking secret as to why it was two minutes behind.
Hank was captivated. He couldn't remember the last time something trivial had his interest to the point that it became somehow bigger than a simple attraction. Hank got the impression Gabriel was really into clocks. He also sounded like a fucking psychopath, but given Hank's line of work, anyone that says they want to open something up and see how it works meant something far more nefarious than a benign wristwatch.
Hank moves his hand over to the watch and holds it between his hands. He takes a new appreciation for the piece. Instead of a wristwatch, he slapped on his wrist, the piece was a complex mechanic that needed TLC, and Hank had been neglectful. He binds it on his wrist again and looks up to Gabriel. )
Thanks for doing that.
Even the way Gabriel took time to listen to the watch was ... odd, as if the wristwatch told him the very fucking secret as to why it was two minutes behind.
Hank was captivated. He couldn't remember the last time something trivial had his interest to the point that it became somehow bigger than a simple attraction. Hank got the impression Gabriel was really into clocks. He also sounded like a fucking psychopath, but given Hank's line of work, anyone that says they want to open something up and see how it works meant something far more nefarious than a benign wristwatch.
Hank moves his hand over to the watch and holds it between his hands. He takes a new appreciation for the piece. Instead of a wristwatch, he slapped on his wrist, the piece was a complex mechanic that needed TLC, and Hank had been neglectful. He binds it on his wrist again and looks up to Gabriel. )
Thanks for doing that.
( He knew of the interested gaze upon him and thrived with the attention. Tragic that this was all he could show to the public eye. His other activities were practically works of art, and ones he could never claim.
Hank was not too far off with any of his readings, either. Gabriel's work days had been filled with ticks and chimes, rattling pieces, and rotating gears. Is it any wonder Sylar heard them still? They had become a part of him, integrated into his own modes of thinking. He heard them the loudest as he deconstructed a person's mind, liberating it of its power like a pirate plundering treasure from the ocean's depths.
Sylar watches how Hank retrieves the timepiece, noting the difference of how he put it back on (caring, reverent) as compared to the nearly flippant way of its removal. There's no exaggerating his smile for the persona he's portraying. Sylar and Gabriel both favored customers who appreciated their good work. He snaps closed the kit and pockets it once more. )
You are very welcome. Old habits die hard. Perhaps now you'll permit me to ask: why are you drinking so heavily tonight? I mean... ( Sylar rubs at the back of his neck and affects a nervous laugh. ) ...If you don't mind telling me, that is.
Hank was not too far off with any of his readings, either. Gabriel's work days had been filled with ticks and chimes, rattling pieces, and rotating gears. Is it any wonder Sylar heard them still? They had become a part of him, integrated into his own modes of thinking. He heard them the loudest as he deconstructed a person's mind, liberating it of its power like a pirate plundering treasure from the ocean's depths.
Sylar watches how Hank retrieves the timepiece, noting the difference of how he put it back on (caring, reverent) as compared to the nearly flippant way of its removal. There's no exaggerating his smile for the persona he's portraying. Sylar and Gabriel both favored customers who appreciated their good work. He snaps closed the kit and pockets it once more. )
You are very welcome. Old habits die hard. Perhaps now you'll permit me to ask: why are you drinking so heavily tonight? I mean... ( Sylar rubs at the back of his neck and affects a nervous laugh. ) ...If you don't mind telling me, that is.
( Hank's attention returns to Gabriel when he hears him zip up the tools pouch. Then he looks to his beer with consideration. )
Am I?
( His brows raise on his forehead, and his upper lip lifts over his teeth, exposing the small gap of his two front teeth. He then closes his mouth with a heavy huff that ripples his lips with an audible "phhbbblll." His brows relax, and he returns his eyes to Gabriel. Honestly: )
I was just getting started. ( He grins. He figures, since they're getting acquainted with one another, he ought to ask a question himself. Of course, he starts with the one foremost on his mind. )
Why did you come here and meet me?
Am I?
( His brows raise on his forehead, and his upper lip lifts over his teeth, exposing the small gap of his two front teeth. He then closes his mouth with a heavy huff that ripples his lips with an audible "phhbbblll." His brows relax, and he returns his eyes to Gabriel. Honestly: )
I was just getting started. ( He grins. He figures, since they're getting acquainted with one another, he ought to ask a question himself. Of course, he starts with the one foremost on his mind. )
Why did you come here and meet me?
( While Hank debates his answer, the waiter brings the order over. Gabriel thanks him graciously, unfolds a napkin with a flick of his wrist, and tucks it into his shirt collar. This was less about maintaining appearances and more for his own assurances. Mac and cheese, of a certain distinction, could be messier than murder.
He dabs some pepper over the pasta, swirls his fork in the creamy cheese, and takes a bountiful bite. While some of his mind still screams about the unhealthiness inherent in the meal, he silences that by marveling at the nostalgic deliciousness. The waiter lingers to see if Hank requires anything further, then leaves the pair alone. )
Mmm. Now this? This is good. Six cheeses, at least. Perfectly blended. ( He dabs at his lips with the napkin as he finishes the bite. ) I came because you offered. It wasn't just about the meal, but the company. And you seemed... interesting. I miss enjoying meals with interesting people.
He dabs some pepper over the pasta, swirls his fork in the creamy cheese, and takes a bountiful bite. While some of his mind still screams about the unhealthiness inherent in the meal, he silences that by marveling at the nostalgic deliciousness. The waiter lingers to see if Hank requires anything further, then leaves the pair alone. )
Mmm. Now this? This is good. Six cheeses, at least. Perfectly blended. ( He dabs at his lips with the napkin as he finishes the bite. ) I came because you offered. It wasn't just about the meal, but the company. And you seemed... interesting. I miss enjoying meals with interesting people.
((continued from here.))
( Sylar is out of his seat the very second Mohinder slides from his chair, moving quickly to catch the fallen scientist in his arms. He watches his slumber, reaching a hand up to gently smooth dark curls away from his forehead. )
Sorry, Mohinder. The more things change... Well. You know.
( The scientist looks so innocent, even peaceful, Sylar stares a second longer. His mouth feels dry in spite of the tea he'd had. He licks his lips, squashing the wicked impulse to kiss Mohinder in this singularity where their moralizing and history no matter mattered. But... There are some lines even Sylar wouldn't cross. Finally, carefully, he sets Mohinder down upon the carpet. How close it was to where he'd fallen after a reversal of circumstances. It felt like a lifetime ago.
He works quickly, a mix of physical exertion and telekinesis, gathering as much of Mohinder's research from his desk as possible. He's surprised to find a syringe among the usual indecipherable notes and beakers. Oh. Now this looks important. He brings that along with the laptop. Everything is bundled into the car he had waiting outside, taking up the majority of the trunk. Next, a suitcase for clothes, toiletries, even tea bags, packed with some attempt at organization but obvious impatience with the unfolded outfits. At least the toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss wound up in a ziploc bag and not just thrown in haphazardly.
Finally, Mohinder gets bundled into the backseat along with a blanket and pillow stolen from the couch. Far better than waking up duct taped to a chair with a syringe jabbed into his arm. He'd be lying if he said the thought of putting Mohinder in some kind of bondage hadn't crossed his mind (multiple times) but now wasn't the time. Despite everything he did (and still continued to do), some part of him wanted Mohinder to trust him.
It's why he'd given him a small dose, one that would wear off after an hour or so. By that point, they would already be on a long, lonely stretch of road surrounded by nature and the setting sun. )
( Sylar is out of his seat the very second Mohinder slides from his chair, moving quickly to catch the fallen scientist in his arms. He watches his slumber, reaching a hand up to gently smooth dark curls away from his forehead. )
Sorry, Mohinder. The more things change... Well. You know.
( The scientist looks so innocent, even peaceful, Sylar stares a second longer. His mouth feels dry in spite of the tea he'd had. He licks his lips, squashing the wicked impulse to kiss Mohinder in this singularity where their moralizing and history no matter mattered. But... There are some lines even Sylar wouldn't cross. Finally, carefully, he sets Mohinder down upon the carpet. How close it was to where he'd fallen after a reversal of circumstances. It felt like a lifetime ago.
He works quickly, a mix of physical exertion and telekinesis, gathering as much of Mohinder's research from his desk as possible. He's surprised to find a syringe among the usual indecipherable notes and beakers. Oh. Now this looks important. He brings that along with the laptop. Everything is bundled into the car he had waiting outside, taking up the majority of the trunk. Next, a suitcase for clothes, toiletries, even tea bags, packed with some attempt at organization but obvious impatience with the unfolded outfits. At least the toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss wound up in a ziploc bag and not just thrown in haphazardly.
Finally, Mohinder gets bundled into the backseat along with a blanket and pillow stolen from the couch. Far better than waking up duct taped to a chair with a syringe jabbed into his arm. He'd be lying if he said the thought of putting Mohinder in some kind of bondage hadn't crossed his mind (multiple times) but now wasn't the time. Despite everything he did (and still continued to do), some part of him wanted Mohinder to trust him.
It's why he'd given him a small dose, one that would wear off after an hour or so. By that point, they would already be on a long, lonely stretch of road surrounded by nature and the setting sun. )
[As Mohinder begins to wake up, his body starts to fight the sedative. It's not exactly a normal fight-or-flight response kicking in, as the drug does its work. But instead, Mohinder groans and thrashes a bit as his consciousness returns. Instincts an hour too late have him almost falling off the seat.]
Wha-?
[There's silence for a long moment as he opens his eyes and surveys his surroundings. He certainly wasn't expecting to be in the back seat of a car, tucked in with his own blanket. Still, it doesn't take long before he's kicking up a fuss. The stretch of Americana outside his window is ominous enough.]
I should've known better than to expect anything less from you! Where are you taking me? I swear, if this is all a lead-up to murdering me horribly, you could've just done so in the comfort of my own home.
[Even after all that, he sounds more offended than scared.]
Wha-?
[There's silence for a long moment as he opens his eyes and surveys his surroundings. He certainly wasn't expecting to be in the back seat of a car, tucked in with his own blanket. Still, it doesn't take long before he's kicking up a fuss. The stretch of Americana outside his window is ominous enough.]
I should've known better than to expect anything less from you! Where are you taking me? I swear, if this is all a lead-up to murdering me horribly, you could've just done so in the comfort of my own home.
[Even after all that, he sounds more offended than scared.]
( Sylar could live without music. It was just one of those creature comforts you learned to give up when you were constantly on the run from, well, everyone. But to have it so close by and be unable to flick it on? It was its own form of torture. But, no matter how much he altered his own dna, he was still human. Lacking the radio, he'd begun whistling softly and quietly, to an aimless tune. Maybe it was from an old 70s song, maybe not. The sound fades as Mohinder begins to stir. Sylar watches him from the rearview mirror, soon rolling his eyes when the doctor reacted so... typical. )
Did you not hear anything I said before? If I'd wanted you dead, Mohinder, you would've been. Honestly. You're too important to me for that. ( He would absolutely not think further about the possible meanings. ) Clearly not case with the company or Noah or whoever.
( He flicks on the radio, finally, tuning it to some classical rock. "Back in Black". Perfect. He keeps the volume low, even slows the car a little, before continuing in that same casual tone. )
There's some bottles of water back there. Speaking from experience, I know what waking up from that drug feels like.
Did you not hear anything I said before? If I'd wanted you dead, Mohinder, you would've been. Honestly. You're too important to me for that. ( He would absolutely not think further about the possible meanings. ) Clearly not case with the company or Noah or whoever.
( He flicks on the radio, finally, tuning it to some classical rock. "Back in Black". Perfect. He keeps the volume low, even slows the car a little, before continuing in that same casual tone. )
There's some bottles of water back there. Speaking from experience, I know what waking up from that drug feels like.
[This? This is not at all what Mohinder expected. He's not tied up, he's not hanging from the ceiling. Sylar isn't gloating about the drugged tea. The lack of tension makes things feel almost awkward, if he were to be honest. He finds the mentioned bottles, hesitates for a moment, then cracks it open and takes a few gulps of water. He is quite thirsty.]
Noah, you say. [Easier to broach that subject than the 'important to me' one.] I wasn't aware you were on a first-name basis with Mr. Bennet. Is he still alive?
Noah, you say. [Easier to broach that subject than the 'important to me' one.] I wasn't aware you were on a first-name basis with Mr. Bennet. Is he still alive?
( Sylar can't help but chuckle to himself at the in-joke he won't share. Ah, yes, those pesky first-name basis rules. When did they apply for their situation? Was it when Noah had him trapped in a cell in a cycle of near-death, constantly revived? Or when he stole Claire's ability, along with some key files of juicy targets? )
Yes, he is still alive, since you're so concerned. ( Are you fucking him too, along with the chubby cop? Sylar presses his lips together, biting back the question. He can't temper the unexpected flare of jealousy as he watches Mohinder in the rearview for a beat too long. ) I've no interest in killing him but I'm sure he'd definitely say the opposite. Failure of a "Company man" that he is.
Yes, he is still alive, since you're so concerned. ( Are you fucking him too, along with the chubby cop? Sylar presses his lips together, biting back the question. He can't temper the unexpected flare of jealousy as he watches Mohinder in the rearview for a beat too long. ) I've no interest in killing him but I'm sure he'd definitely say the opposite. Failure of a "Company man" that he is.
[Mohinder's shoulders relax a little at hearing the agent was still alive. He didn't hold onto any care for the man, but he did go through considerable effort to make sure Bennet stayed alive.]
Yes, well. He's not exactly a shining example of character himself, but who in the Company is?
[He shifts in his seat, sitting up more fully. He feels awake now, and the fight-or-flight response is settling into something more wait-and-see.]
But back to the more important question- where are we going? Or is this a general, all-purpose kidnapping?
Yes, well. He's not exactly a shining example of character himself, but who in the Company is?
[He shifts in his seat, sitting up more fully. He feels awake now, and the fight-or-flight response is settling into something more wait-and-see.]
But back to the more important question- where are we going? Or is this a general, all-purpose kidnapping?
( No one at the Company was worth a damn, as far as Sylar was concerned. He had thought to pay them a personal visit, in fact, and Complain To Their Manager. Bless Noah and his errant file keeping, leading him astray... )
We are killing two birds with one stone, Mohinder. Following a string towards memory lane, quite possibly, as well as running our own science project. ( He didn't really need a reason, let alone two, to want to steal Mohinder away from the world. In a way, he was being charitable. ) Which speaking of: why did you have a filled syringe in your desk drawer? More of your "father's research..." ( He imitated Mohinder's accent; easy to do when that voice never strayed far from his thoughts. ) ...Or something of your design, for once?
We are killing two birds with one stone, Mohinder. Following a string towards memory lane, quite possibly, as well as running our own science project. ( He didn't really need a reason, let alone two, to want to steal Mohinder away from the world. In a way, he was being charitable. ) Which speaking of: why did you have a filled syringe in your desk drawer? More of your "father's research..." ( He imitated Mohinder's accent; easy to do when that voice never strayed far from his thoughts. ) ...Or something of your design, for once?
['Memory lane?' Mohinder immediately thinks of the road trip he and Zane went on, but that can't be it. Sylar couldn't possibly have enjoyed the companionship that Mohinder did. He was just excited for the next kill, surely, and for pulling one over on the naïve son.
The mention of the syringe causes Mohinder to snap out of his own thoughts and stare at Sylar's face in the rearview mirror. It's a rather deer-in-headlights look as he tries to cobble together an explanation.]
It's- it's a continuation, of course. I'd been doing research for Maya- research that has since been destroyed, mind you. I don't want the Company getting their hands on it. The solution in that syringe- [It was, in some small way, a security blanket. If he had that, maybe he would never feel as powerless as he did when Sylar invaded his home and threatened Molly. ...and clearly that hadn't worked out at all, considering their current position.] -it should have been destroyed along with the rest of it.
The mention of the syringe causes Mohinder to snap out of his own thoughts and stare at Sylar's face in the rearview mirror. It's a rather deer-in-headlights look as he tries to cobble together an explanation.]
It's- it's a continuation, of course. I'd been doing research for Maya- research that has since been destroyed, mind you. I don't want the Company getting their hands on it. The solution in that syringe- [It was, in some small way, a security blanket. If he had that, maybe he would never feel as powerless as he did when Sylar invaded his home and threatened Molly. ...and clearly that hadn't worked out at all, considering their current position.] -it should have been destroyed along with the rest of it.
( Sylar makes a gruff noise of disgust at the mention of Maya's name and flinches in his seat. That was one more 'memory lane' he didn't need reminded of. How it felt to be so powerless, relying on the whims of an individual who was emotionally unstable at the best of times. Thankfully, as with Candice, she had a blindspot that'd been too easily exploited. )
For having destroyed your research, there sure was a lot of it left. Oh, it's all in the trunk by the way. Looked important, so I brought it.
( That syringe especially had been the proverbial 'shiny thing' that caught his eye. The song's switched now, something slower and with more melody. "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat, and soon, whistling along. )
For having destroyed your research, there sure was a lot of it left. Oh, it's all in the trunk by the way. Looked important, so I brought it.
( That syringe especially had been the proverbial 'shiny thing' that caught his eye. The song's switched now, something slower and with more melody. "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat, and soon, whistling along. )
Edited (music link. i hadn't intended on compiling a playlist but here we are :D) 2020-12-04 03:33 (UTC)
[It was in the car with them? Of course Sylar would take it. Mohinder twists to stare at the seat behind him, as if he could somehow see the research through it.]
I may have gotten caught up in the new avenue. I made more progress than expected.
[He frowns for a moment, but ultimately continues. Sylar will understand, certainly far better than Maya had (that had been such a mess). And hell- it's not like it could be used by the man anyway.]
There is a quirk to the genetic code that represents the marker for special abilities. It seems that epigenetics determine whether the ability itself is 'activated', so...what I created may artificially meet the conditions other people get through normal growth or their environment to activate their abilities. Or it may do nothing.
I may have gotten caught up in the new avenue. I made more progress than expected.
[He frowns for a moment, but ultimately continues. Sylar will understand, certainly far better than Maya had (that had been such a mess). And hell- it's not like it could be used by the man anyway.]
There is a quirk to the genetic code that represents the marker for special abilities. It seems that epigenetics determine whether the ability itself is 'activated', so...what I created may artificially meet the conditions other people get through normal growth or their environment to activate their abilities. Or it may do nothing.
( Epigenetics. Biological inheritance. He watches Mohinder with a keener interest now, listening intently to his scientific word soup. Music to his ears, really, moreso than Stevie Nicks's melody about thunder and rain. It was half the reason they were now on this trip to begin with, details of which he hadn't fully shared.
What he hears next makes him pull over into the nearest field. Almost as a reflex, his telekinesis holds Mohinder gently in place, similar to the "mom arm" with a child in the passenger seat. His own seatbelt of the physical realm unsnaps and he turns in his seat. )
You want to give yourself power. ( A succinct summary, but its more than that. He's grinning with unexpected delight. The trunk pops open behind them. ) Evolution moving too slowly, hm? Show me.
What he hears next makes him pull over into the nearest field. Almost as a reflex, his telekinesis holds Mohinder gently in place, similar to the "mom arm" with a child in the passenger seat. His own seatbelt of the physical realm unsnaps and he turns in his seat. )
You want to give yourself power. ( A succinct summary, but its more than that. He's grinning with unexpected delight. The trunk pops open behind them. ) Evolution moving too slowly, hm? Show me.
[Mohinder is hit with the certainty that he'd just made a huge mistake. Sylar understands far too much, and that meant what Mohinder had just done was closer to a confession than some scientific explanation. He can feel the heat rush to his face, but it's too late now. The cat is out of the bag.
He steps out of the car but hesitates to rush to the briefcase in the trunk- as much as he might want to.]
Sylar, I can't just jab myself with an untested cocktail out in the middle of nowhere. I don't have the equipment to take my blood beforehand, and definitely nothing to analyze any changes. Not to mention, this is hardly sanitary. I haven't finished the initial tests, either, and it's clear I'm missing some small component. It may be accounted for in the course of the changes this serum would provide, but right now that's totally unknown.
[A lot of words to try and cover up the fact that he really, really wants to try it. And here he can practically feel the devil over his shoulder now- a grinning devil, nonetheless. He lets out a sigh.]
The only reason I synthesized the thing in the first place was some misguided notion of being able to handle you if you showed up at my door again. [He glances back to the man.] Clearly, that was a fantasy.
He steps out of the car but hesitates to rush to the briefcase in the trunk- as much as he might want to.]
Sylar, I can't just jab myself with an untested cocktail out in the middle of nowhere. I don't have the equipment to take my blood beforehand, and definitely nothing to analyze any changes. Not to mention, this is hardly sanitary. I haven't finished the initial tests, either, and it's clear I'm missing some small component. It may be accounted for in the course of the changes this serum would provide, but right now that's totally unknown.
[A lot of words to try and cover up the fact that he really, really wants to try it. And here he can practically feel the devil over his shoulder now- a grinning devil, nonetheless. He lets out a sigh.]
The only reason I synthesized the thing in the first place was some misguided notion of being able to handle you if you showed up at my door again. [He glances back to the man.] Clearly, that was a fantasy.
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