Scientific interest - Rp with fallen_empath

[beastlyinsides]

I crouch down next to Peter's prone body, stroking the hair away from his eyes, tracing the line across his forehead where I cut into him. There's nothing there now, just a bit of dried up blood, indicating the injury. I can't wait to see what's hidden in his brain, see what I can take and make mine

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[beastlyinsides]

Peter leaves a trail of clothes to the shower, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. I snort and remove my own, I might as well make use of the hot tub while he occupies the bathroom. I'm soon sinking into the warm water, stretching out and relaxing. This is a far shout from the filthy motels I'm usually in, nice and clean. No stench of previous guests stuck to the walls. I could get used to this. Peter... he must be used to places like this. Rich and spoiled little boy that he is. Nothing better to do than to get in the way and look where that got him. Look where that will take him

[fallen_empath]

When I wake up, my mouth is incredibly dry despite the fact I’ve drooled all over the arm I had propped up under my head in lieu of a pillow. How long have I slept

[beastlyinsides]

I'm tempted to roll my eyes at Peter's oh so rebelious demonstration with the juice, but I don't comment. Chances are that the plan I've got going will upset him plenty and that's enough of a payback right there. I grab one more French toast, pouring a generous amount of syrup over it before answering

[fallen_empath]

I look down at myself in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Sylar actually thinks I’m going to be caught dead wearing something like this? His illusion is extremely strong. The pants are so tight I can barely breathe, and they leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. I look like a circus performer about to go walk a tightrope or ride a trapeze or something!

“No fucking way. I’m not wearing this,” I sulk, knowing very well if I change the illusion he’ll just switch it back. Or make it worse. He’s such a bastard, and his smug smile infuriates me even more.

Grudgingly, I have to agree that Sylar’s got a point with the choice of outfit. I guess Linderman wasn’t giving my mom the eyes after all; maybe it was my brother he was after. And I’m not a scrawny, gawky teenager anymore. He probably won’t even recognize me, and it won’t matter if he does. He’s not going to live to enjoy a bit of it.

It’s just a game, Petrelli. Play, and move on. The ends justify the means, right? My thought process surprises me lately, but I have to

[beastlyinsides]

I walk past Peter and Linderman, invisible and quiet, settling down in a chair to watch the show. His emotions are a delicious blend of excitement and thrill, mixed in with a healthy potion of hate and disgust. That hatred isn't directed at me, for once, more at the man who is letting his eyes glide over Peter's body as if it's his private property. It's interesting to me that puppytrelli actually feels this way about him. Fuck, I really lucked out when picking our target

[fallen_empath]

Linderman sits me down on the sofa, and after another moment of undressing me with his eyes, telling me how pretty I am, I push down the disgust and anger enough to choke out, “Could I have a drink, please

[beastlyinsides]

I forget all about eating my apple, watching as Peter lets good old Lindy get away with a whole lot more than I ever expected him to. I'd never expected the little boyscout to allow something like that, but hell, he's going all out. I know that he's not petrified, that he's building up to the kill. The energy in the room is charged with anger and excitement, more than enough for me to sit on the edge of my seat watching the display in front of me

[fallen_empath]

I’m lost in the excitement of the moment, finally satisfying my desire for revenge and basking in the incredible power rush that comes from seeing the light go out in the old man’s eyes.

It’s not until I’m pulled backward and away from my handiwork, my head and my back slamming the floor, that I realize something went wrong. “What the fuck --” I gasp, barely enough air in my lungs to get the words out.

Sylar’s face is inches from mine, but my heart is pounding so hard in my ears that I barely hear him speak. Teach me how to cut? What the hell is he talking about?

He’s got me pinned to the floor. Like usual. He’s got a real fucking penchant for doing that, doesn’t he? I try to throw him off, but his hold is much too strong.

Like this, he spits, gripping my arm and cutting a neat line into my skin. My adrenaline is running so high I don’t really feel it. It’s almost like it’s happening to someone else when I see my blood well up and run from the wound before it heals over.

And not like this!Oh, I feel it this time. The whine of

[beastlyinsides]

I pick myself up from the floor, snarling a reply at Peter. "I helped you plenty last time. Weren't you paying attention to the show and tell or was your mind somewhere else when you plunged your fingers into sweet little Candy's brain?" He's kneeling down, so I kick him in the side, sending him rolling. "That's for throwing me, asshole." I stride over and grab his arm, porting us both back to our room

[fallen_empath]

Is Sylar fucking serious? I just killed a man. I just tore apart one of Las Vegas’ most notorious, richest criminals in his private suite, and of all the possible things we could do next, Sylar wants to go shopping for clothes? What are we, best friends all of a sudden? I manage a laugh, but it sounds more like a sob because I’m trying not to let him know I’m still crying.

Oh, yes, Sylar, I imagine myself saying. Those are the perfect pants to go on a killing spree in!I almost snap that sarcastic comment at him, but I hold my tongue, thinking better of it. If I don’t, he’ll probably just find another reason to hit me or hurt me in some way. Of course I’ll heal physically, but mentally, I don’t think I can take any more pain right now

[beastlyinsides]

I pay for our clothes with make-believe illusional money and go across the street to the McDonalds, going straight for the toilet there. Peter is trailing behind me like a sullen child and I'm imagining that there's a thunder cloud over his head, like he's fucking Eeyore or something

[fallen_empath]

I ignore Sylar’s snide comment, and I just sit down on the closed toilet lid, entirely naked, turning Nathan’s cell over and over in my hands, as if I’m waiting for the magical phone call that will deliver me from the evil I’ve made myself a part of, the evil I feel pressing in on my very soul

[beastlyinsides]

I give him a wolfish grin, certainly not getting any pangs of guilt over our witness on the floor. "See, now you're starting to get the hang of it. It was fucking generous. I can be when I want to be." I grab the bag and head out the door, not checking if Peter is following. I know he is. He might not know it yet, but he's hooked. He can't escape his path now. I couldn't either, after Brian