Fic: Just another day on the job (Chapter 8 & Epilogue)
Title: Just another day on the job
Summary: Perfect manicured red nails tap on the thick window. Brown eyes interlock with blue. Her lips twitch to a smile, his eyes narrow. A shiny new toy. Syelle.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Duh. But I'm jelly of NBC.
Rating: PG 13- Mature Rating for dark, psychotic themes.
Author's note: AU. Elle-centric. Story currently takes place during Season 1, when Sylar is captured after homecoming. Sorry it's taken me awhile to update- have been super busy traveling and interviewing for doctoral programs all month, meh. On the plus side, I’ve managed to write this on the plane and hotel. Love the reviews!
Chapter 8
Elle has had a solitary existence in the darkness for a long time. Over the years, her eyes adjusted until the dark became her entire world and she could see clearly. But then Sylar showed up. Turned on the lights and blinded her.
Elle is no longer alone in this world. She has come to appreciate that Sylar is not just a shiny new toy to be used and then tossed aside -but rather he is an equal. A potential rival. It’s both exhilarating and strange for Elle to no longer be the lone wolf. The outsider. Elle considers that since he has entered her territory that either the two dominant forces can join together in perfect harmony, or one will need to be destroyed….throat ripped out. Elle’s not completely sure which path to follow or even which one she prefers quite yet. She is interested to see how the ending of the story will play out.
Shiny black spiked heels clank sharply on the concrete floor. Elle slowly and confidently moves down the hallway, savoring each step closer to her target. Daddy, Bennet, all of the other silly agents - they are not going to get in the way this time. She’s outsmarted them, worked so hard to get to where she is now. Deserves the prize. Of course, Elle knows that Daddy won’t be happy and that there will be consequences. But Elle has never been very good at following all of the rules. The only time she obeys the rules is if she can manipulate something out of it. And right now, Elle is above rules. She yields to no one. Elle has a sense of special entitlement, inflated self interest. Sees herself as superior to everyone and everything. Worst case scenario, she gets stuck in solitary confinement for a few months. It’s not like it would be the first time anyways. He would be worth it.
She trails her fingertips on the walls and windows slowly while humming a strange tune.
Elle finds Sylar laying on his back on top of the metal bed, hands loosely clasped across his stomach and staring calming at the ceiling. He shows no surprised when Elle abruptly appears out of the shadows in front of the glass window. The howls and cries of the guards were a warning of her coming presence.
He doesn’t acknowledge Elle, but rather continues to memorize the imaginative designs on the gray ceiling. The gesture… or rather lack of gesture… makes Elle cringe with irritation. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him, but being ignored is definitely not something she‘s used to. Her narcissism demands attention. Ungrateful son of a bitch- how dare he. After all of the work she has gone through to get to this moment. While Elle taps her perfectly manicured red nails on the window she concurrently flashes her power brightly, creating loud snaps of energy. As if to say - look at me.
Sylar reluctantly obeys and turns his body painfully slow towards Elle. She can see the muscles shifting under his skin with the effort. He moves to lay on his side, head propped up with his hand. He looks comfortable and relaxed, like he is on the beach waiting for the photographer to snap the camera. His body position is so inviting and delicious that Elle wants to curl her tiny body around him. Elle sighs inwardly to herself, strange feelings that she cannot identify flood throughout her entire being.
Dark brown eyes interlock with blue. They stay staring at each other in silence. Seconds, minutes, hours tick by. Time is of no importance.
When you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back.
Her beast recognizes the familiar monster lurking beneath the brown eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul. Elle’s not sure if she believes in a soul. If she had one, her soul would probably burn in hell for a million years. The thought of pain and suffering doesn’t frighten her, though Elle is afraid of nothing. If you can’t feel anything, do you even have a soul? Doesn’t matter either way, if there is a hell - pain and suffering is just one of her versions of foreplay. Elle doesn’t feel bad or guilty for who she is. A leopard cannot change its spots. She has no scruples, no compassion or ability to empathize with the feelings of others; instead she is self-seeking and ruthless--- without conscience. Right and wrong, good and evil, Elle does not care about such trivial things. If she burns for all eternity, at least she knows for sure that she’ll have company. But Elle isn’t concerned about the future or life after death. Her existence is all about the here and now. Fulfilling immediate, primal needs. And right now, she’s thoroughly enjoying the special connection she’s sharing with her favorite serial killer.
They silently acknowledge one another, their bodies unnaturally frozen in a stillness that only an immortal possesses. At the same time, however, there is a sense of evaluation. Sizing up the other. The hierarchy of power and dominance is still wavering and unclear between the two predators.
What Elle does know very clearly is that she intoxicated by his very presence. He was like her own personal drug. Her eyes become glazed over, she’s still looking at him but no longer truly seeing him. She’s back in her inner world, violent thoughts and images of flesh and blood flash within her mind. Energy hums throughout her body with feral anticipation and need. Elle fantasizes all the various scenarios of how she’s going to take him.
The monster waits anxiously, hungrily, for her to do it.
She feels a surprisingly familiar urge to storm over and roughly slam him against the wall. Imagines the pleasure from hearing the sound of his grunt at the impact. She has such as strong need to lace her fingers through his thick brown hair, push her face against his neck and nuzzle. Breathe deep and long so that she can fully take in and memorize his scent. Elle needs to taste his skin gently with her tongue, and then bring her teeth down sharply, marking him as her own. To claim to the world - he’s mine. Though the idea of his teeth against her soft, smooth skin sends a thrill down her spine. The thought snaps her back to reality.
“Hey, you." Elle finally breaks the silence, voice husky, meant only for dark and intimate places. “Wanna play?”
The smile came, a soft curl of lips. The serpent must have smiled at Eve like that. I have this nice, shiny apple for you. She imagines taking the apple from him with reverence. The apple tastes delicious, flavorful and full of texture. The kind that has a fun crunch and sticky juice that runs down your chin. Thirst burns through her throat like fire. Elle wants to sink her teeth in.
"From the looks of it, you’ve already played." His voice is deep and powerful, like booming thunder in the eye of the storm. Elle picks up on a tinge of jealously underneath.
"Oh, this little mess." Elle glances down to inspect her appearance. Her blonde curly hair is pulled back into a relaxed side pony tail set in place with a thick piece of black leather. She's wearing a light gray sheer dress that barely reaches below her waist. The garment slips over liquid tight black leather boots. The boots go so high that the top lightly brushes against her most delicate parts when she moves. It was both painful and pleasurable at the same time - just the way she likes it. Elle guesses that the blood splattered across her dress and porcelain white skin perfectly matches the color of her crimson lipstick, completing the outfit.
"The guards were either very brave, or very stupid. Though I think sometimes bravery and stupidity are almost interchangeable. Don’t-cha think?" She giggles.
Sylar suddenly moves his body into a seated position. From an ordinary perspective, a normal would be amazed by his graceful and liquid movements, smooth like a large cat. But Elle is not most people. She picks up on the slightest hesitations and tension creased on his face- that indicate soreness and pain. The large tiger doesn‘t want to reveal that he‘s broken. His complexion is ghostly white, dark circles under his eyes. The damaging effects of being pumped full of drugs, forced through rigorous tests, and tortured. Even in such a state, he is still beautiful. God-like.
“They say that you're the big, bad boogieman. Stories of heads cut off and brains are scaring all of the little specials in their sleep.” Elle licks her lips and gently glides her fingers slowly and seductively across the glass. “Now what I can’t figure out -- is how does the meanest son of a bitch get captured and locked up?"
"Just lucky, I guess."
Elle wasn’t sure if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. She affected a lot of people that way.
“Well, now that I’ve gotten the guards out of the way and the security cameras are playing a fun game on the agents, we’re going to finally get some uninterrupted quality time together.”
This is the moment she’s been waiting for. The beast smiles contently within her dark consciousness as she swipes her Company card on the door’s lock. The security box flashes and beeps at her. Elle raises an eye brow and tries to open the door again. The box beeps a second time.
"NO!!!!" Elle screams.
The worst thing about finally putting together a large, complex puzzle is finding there are missing pieces.
This is absolutely, without a doubt, the worst moment in Elle’s life.
Elle releases a blast of electricity from every inch of her body towards the door. Throws more energy at it then she ever has before. The barrier doesn’t falter, not even a mark. As if the higher ups has expected this. God damn pre-cogs. The intense outburst of power has torn apart and burnt her clothes, revealing matching black lacy undergarments. The tips of her hair are blackened. Smoke steams off of her body- she probably will have the smell of burning on her skin for weeks.
Elle hits her hands against the metal door, willing it to bust open with force. Throws her weight to the punches, clawing in a feral rage. Pounds over and over and over until her tiny fists are bruised and bleeding.
“No, no, no....“ She mumbles softly to herself. Elle slumps against the door, head between her legs. Sweat is trickling down her spine from the exertion of energy.
Defeat and failure are unacceptable. Elle takes a deep breath and counts slowly to five. She doesn’t have the patience for ten. Elle to bounce back onto her feet. The beast begins pacing in front of his cell, her heels clicking fast and dangerous against the concrete. She has a little circuit mapped out that she follows mindlessly.
Elle is back in her inner world, muttering out loud a stream of dark consciousness. “He’s mine. Mine. He belongs to me. They can’t stop me. I’m going to kill them all. Every last one of them. They think they can control me. Keep him from me. Fry their brains so hot, roast their insides, microwave them until they pop. Blood everywhere. I want them to pay. Fucking Andrews, if he was still alive I’d turn him to dust. Daddy and Bennet are behind this. I know it. They are going to pay so dearly. I‘m going to rip them into tiny pieces with my bare hands….”
Sylar watches Elle with such intensity, like she is the center of his world.
"You know that you've walked past the window twenty times. And that's just when I started counting."
"Shut up."
He smirks, knows how to hit her buttons. "You're just angry because you can't get what you want. Daddy won't let you play."
Elle creates a vibrant ball of sparkling power in her hands. A trail of dangerous blue electricity follows her track as she paces. "Maybe they are afraid that I'll tear you apart. Destroy you before you can be of any use to them. Make you into a blacken husk of ashes."
Elle’s little display of threats doesn’t seem to phase Sylar. In the land of predators, the lion never fears the fox.
"I hear the way the other prisoners and agents talk about you." He says softly, stopping her in her tracks.
Paranoid thoughts are burning to overflow her psyche. "And what exactly do they say?"
"That you're dangerous." His voice is raw. "A sociopath."
"Yep, that sounds about right." She smiles widely, flashing all of her pearly white teeth. "And you're a psychopathic serial killer. A monster. The stuff of nightmares.”
Sylar laughs full out. The laugh is like candy, sweet and infectious. If Elle could bottle up Sylar’s laugh, she knows it would be fattening. Or orgasmic.
Elle’s eyes roam over Sylar. “Most women complain that there are no single, straight men left. I’d just like to meet one who’s human.”
“You aren’t human, any more than I am, my little electric firefly.” His eyes sparkle.
Elle frowns at his comment. "Can the pet names, Gray. You don’t know a thing about me."
"Please. You know nothing about you, Elle." Sylar sighs, sadness and irritation apparent in both his face and voice. Unlike Elle, Sylar seemed to be ruled by his ever changing and usually conflicting emotions. While Elle’s existence seemed to be a bottomless void, Sylar’s is overflowing with heightened emotional states. They were polar opposites, sitting on the extremes ends of the spectrum.
Elle wasn‘t quite ready to admit out loud being manipulated and controlled, can‘t show weakness to the big bad predator in front of her. So she changes the subject instead.
"What am I going to do with you now?"
His lips twitch to a smile. "I have a list, but I left it in my other pants."
Elle raises an eyebrow. She sighs with annoyance and then puts on her fake cheerful voice. "Oh well, looks like my Company card expired. That’s what I get for overspending! Daddy always said I was greedy, warned me about too much intimate time with the other prisoners. Guess that means I get cut off from you. It doesn't really matter. I'm starting to grow bored of you anyways."
"You were always a bad liar."
Lying is like breathing to a sociopath. When caught in a lie and challenged, Elle usually makes up new lies and doesn‘t care if she‘s found out. Lying, deceiving, and manipulation are part of her special talents. With his remark, Elle is not perplexed or embarrassed. She merely shrugs indifferently at his comment.
She puts on her bubbly and childish mask, her voice sing-songy. “Don’t want you anyways. Useless to me since Bennet has already broken you. Pathetic, damaged goods.” Elle places her hands on her hips and playfully sticks out her tongue at Sylar.
“Stop.” Sylar lashes out, his voice cuts like sharp daggers.
Elle softly whimpers immediately, her knees feel weak. She avoids eye contact and feels the urge to abase herself in the face of such power. Tail between her legs, begging for forgiveness. Elle manages to stand her ground…barely. She glances up cautiously after a few moments of silence.
His face extremely serious, but his voice holds both longing and anger. “You don’t have to pretend. Put on that act with me.”
“What are you babbling about?”
“Elle…” His voice holds warning.
“Fine. If you insist.” Elle listens to his orders, her mask gone and face emotionless. Her voice is cold, empty...reflecting her true existence. "There. Are you happy now?“
Silence. And then finally, a response. “No….not really.“
Elle rolls her eyes. Decides to shift the power dynamics, gain control - by bruising his inflated ego. Her voice is dark and deep. “Pretty pitiful attempt at escaping this morning. You're going to be here- for-ever. Only way you're going to leave this facility is through a plastic - black - body bag. Deader than a snowman in July. And I mean TV movie of the week, CNN all day coverage kinda dead. I’d be happy to put you in a body bag myself, but I have more important things to worry about."
Sylar looks as if he is considering her remarks thoughtfully, the gears ticking within his mind.
Suddenly, Elle hears commotion at the end of the hallway. The agents have figured out the she’s interacting with Sylar.
“Looks like our play time has ended.” She sighs. "I almost had you."
"Almost doesn't count." He whispers back.
Elle smiles widely, the cheerful mask firmly back in place. Blows him a playful kiss. "Bye bye, butterfly.”
Elle skips off humming a tune to a song that is painfully familiar to Sylar. He smiles in response to the sounds of the agents’ screams. Watches with reverence as the kitten finds temporary satisfaction in massacring the suits, the smell of burning flesh and blood fills the hall. Elle shows Sylar what he’s missing out on.
Epilogue
Elle isn’t surprised that Sylar took her advice. Literally. Died and came back to life. Like a modern day god. But Elle is stunned to learn that he ran off to be with someone else. Well, not exactly in the romantic sense. He tried to overpower the Cheerleader a second time, only to be stopped again by the Haitian and Bennet. The thought of him fixated on that silly pathetic Pom Pom brings foreign sensations through her body, making her tense and on-edge.
Elle prides herself on always getting what she wants. But Sylar is the only one that got away from her clutches. She is antsy because she never truly got her release. All that buildup and no orgasm. Maybe if Elle had gotten her hands on him in the very beginning, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought. But deep down, Elle knows that he’s not like the others. He's different, special. It takes weeks before Elle realizes that she’s suffering from her first experience of a crush.
He’s killing again, stealing powers from the weak and unworthy. The Company continues to put full force into pursing Sylar, though they are keeping Elle in the dark per usual. Some days Elle has the urge to leave the Company, track him down, and demand answers. He is the key to unlocking the secrets, stolen memories. Perhaps she could join him in his slaughtering. Be free to be who she truly is. Though Elle is unclear of the power dynamics between the two of them. Like alpha predators, they could either mate for life or fight to the death when they finally come face to face. Plus, the idea of wandering out into that wild, confusing world holds her captive at the Company. The Company is her… home. Though there is that saying - home is where the heart is. But where do you go when you don’t have a heart?
Now that Sylar is gone, Elle is back to her regular routine. Unfortunately, the normally satisfying schedule is not as fulfilling as before. Instead, she is distracted, he fills her consciousness with tremendous need and longing during the day. When Elle closes her eyes, he haunts her dreams with passion and pain. Elle wakes up in the middle of the night panting and in cold sweat, body aching to be touched. Other nights she wakes up in a near panicked state feeling powerless, clutching her stomach- swears she can hear the echoes of a baby crying out in the darkness. She’s not a fan of those particular nightmares.
Daddy must of sensed a change in Elle. So he gave her a new assignment to keep her occupied, controlled. Track down and apprehend pretty Peter Petrelli. Apparently, Daddy believes that the Petrelli’s youngest son is extremely dangerous and unknowingly part of some diabolical inner Company scheme that Elle is assigned to unravel. The case helps keep Sylar off her mind…at least during the day.
Elle’s life is a careful balance of chaos and order. Elle fills up that void, that cold emptiness with pain, blood, and death. The rules, structure, and routine help control the darkness. Shower. Coffee. Paperwork. Morning victim. Lunch. Meeting with Daddy. Hand out pills. Research potential specials. Dinner. Post dinner victim. Sleep. Just another day on the job.
~ Fin. ~
Author's note: I know, I know, I’m a tease. Many of you expressed anticipation of Elle and Sylar finally meeting up. And I threw in the twist of Elle getting locked out. But, I like the idea of Elle struggling with not getting exactly what she wants. Thoughts/reactions to how this played out?
Oh, and this is not the end of the story. Be on the lookout for the sequel --- it will focus on Elle’s adventures as well as her reflections/interactions with our favorite serial killer during Volume 2. Expect to see exploration of the aftermath of the Season 1 finale - How to Stop an Exploding Man… Elle capturing Peter, Sylar in surgery at the Company after getting stabbed by Hiro, Elle vs. Candice, and much much more! ;)
Summary: Perfect manicured red nails tap on the thick window. Brown eyes interlock with blue. Her lips twitch to a smile, his eyes narrow. A shiny new toy. Syelle.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Duh. But I'm jelly of NBC.
Rating: PG 13- Mature Rating for dark, psychotic themes.
Author's note: AU. Elle-centric. Story currently takes place during Season 1, when Sylar is captured after homecoming. Sorry it's taken me awhile to update- have been super busy traveling and interviewing for doctoral programs all month, meh. On the plus side, I’ve managed to write this on the plane and hotel. Love the reviews!
Chapter 8
Elle has had a solitary existence in the darkness for a long time. Over the years, her eyes adjusted until the dark became her entire world and she could see clearly. But then Sylar showed up. Turned on the lights and blinded her.
Elle is no longer alone in this world. She has come to appreciate that Sylar is not just a shiny new toy to be used and then tossed aside -but rather he is an equal. A potential rival. It’s both exhilarating and strange for Elle to no longer be the lone wolf. The outsider. Elle considers that since he has entered her territory that either the two dominant forces can join together in perfect harmony, or one will need to be destroyed….throat ripped out. Elle’s not completely sure which path to follow or even which one she prefers quite yet. She is interested to see how the ending of the story will play out.
Shiny black spiked heels clank sharply on the concrete floor. Elle slowly and confidently moves down the hallway, savoring each step closer to her target. Daddy, Bennet, all of the other silly agents - they are not going to get in the way this time. She’s outsmarted them, worked so hard to get to where she is now. Deserves the prize. Of course, Elle knows that Daddy won’t be happy and that there will be consequences. But Elle has never been very good at following all of the rules. The only time she obeys the rules is if she can manipulate something out of it. And right now, Elle is above rules. She yields to no one. Elle has a sense of special entitlement, inflated self interest. Sees herself as superior to everyone and everything. Worst case scenario, she gets stuck in solitary confinement for a few months. It’s not like it would be the first time anyways. He would be worth it.
She trails her fingertips on the walls and windows slowly while humming a strange tune.
Elle finds Sylar laying on his back on top of the metal bed, hands loosely clasped across his stomach and staring calming at the ceiling. He shows no surprised when Elle abruptly appears out of the shadows in front of the glass window. The howls and cries of the guards were a warning of her coming presence.
He doesn’t acknowledge Elle, but rather continues to memorize the imaginative designs on the gray ceiling. The gesture… or rather lack of gesture… makes Elle cringe with irritation. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him, but being ignored is definitely not something she‘s used to. Her narcissism demands attention. Ungrateful son of a bitch- how dare he. After all of the work she has gone through to get to this moment. While Elle taps her perfectly manicured red nails on the window she concurrently flashes her power brightly, creating loud snaps of energy. As if to say - look at me.
Sylar reluctantly obeys and turns his body painfully slow towards Elle. She can see the muscles shifting under his skin with the effort. He moves to lay on his side, head propped up with his hand. He looks comfortable and relaxed, like he is on the beach waiting for the photographer to snap the camera. His body position is so inviting and delicious that Elle wants to curl her tiny body around him. Elle sighs inwardly to herself, strange feelings that she cannot identify flood throughout her entire being.
Dark brown eyes interlock with blue. They stay staring at each other in silence. Seconds, minutes, hours tick by. Time is of no importance.
When you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back.
Her beast recognizes the familiar monster lurking beneath the brown eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul. Elle’s not sure if she believes in a soul. If she had one, her soul would probably burn in hell for a million years. The thought of pain and suffering doesn’t frighten her, though Elle is afraid of nothing. If you can’t feel anything, do you even have a soul? Doesn’t matter either way, if there is a hell - pain and suffering is just one of her versions of foreplay. Elle doesn’t feel bad or guilty for who she is. A leopard cannot change its spots. She has no scruples, no compassion or ability to empathize with the feelings of others; instead she is self-seeking and ruthless--- without conscience. Right and wrong, good and evil, Elle does not care about such trivial things. If she burns for all eternity, at least she knows for sure that she’ll have company. But Elle isn’t concerned about the future or life after death. Her existence is all about the here and now. Fulfilling immediate, primal needs. And right now, she’s thoroughly enjoying the special connection she’s sharing with her favorite serial killer.
They silently acknowledge one another, their bodies unnaturally frozen in a stillness that only an immortal possesses. At the same time, however, there is a sense of evaluation. Sizing up the other. The hierarchy of power and dominance is still wavering and unclear between the two predators.
What Elle does know very clearly is that she intoxicated by his very presence. He was like her own personal drug. Her eyes become glazed over, she’s still looking at him but no longer truly seeing him. She’s back in her inner world, violent thoughts and images of flesh and blood flash within her mind. Energy hums throughout her body with feral anticipation and need. Elle fantasizes all the various scenarios of how she’s going to take him.
The monster waits anxiously, hungrily, for her to do it.
She feels a surprisingly familiar urge to storm over and roughly slam him against the wall. Imagines the pleasure from hearing the sound of his grunt at the impact. She has such as strong need to lace her fingers through his thick brown hair, push her face against his neck and nuzzle. Breathe deep and long so that she can fully take in and memorize his scent. Elle needs to taste his skin gently with her tongue, and then bring her teeth down sharply, marking him as her own. To claim to the world - he’s mine. Though the idea of his teeth against her soft, smooth skin sends a thrill down her spine. The thought snaps her back to reality.
“Hey, you." Elle finally breaks the silence, voice husky, meant only for dark and intimate places. “Wanna play?”
The smile came, a soft curl of lips. The serpent must have smiled at Eve like that. I have this nice, shiny apple for you. She imagines taking the apple from him with reverence. The apple tastes delicious, flavorful and full of texture. The kind that has a fun crunch and sticky juice that runs down your chin. Thirst burns through her throat like fire. Elle wants to sink her teeth in.
"From the looks of it, you’ve already played." His voice is deep and powerful, like booming thunder in the eye of the storm. Elle picks up on a tinge of jealously underneath.
"Oh, this little mess." Elle glances down to inspect her appearance. Her blonde curly hair is pulled back into a relaxed side pony tail set in place with a thick piece of black leather. She's wearing a light gray sheer dress that barely reaches below her waist. The garment slips over liquid tight black leather boots. The boots go so high that the top lightly brushes against her most delicate parts when she moves. It was both painful and pleasurable at the same time - just the way she likes it. Elle guesses that the blood splattered across her dress and porcelain white skin perfectly matches the color of her crimson lipstick, completing the outfit.
"The guards were either very brave, or very stupid. Though I think sometimes bravery and stupidity are almost interchangeable. Don’t-cha think?" She giggles.
Sylar suddenly moves his body into a seated position. From an ordinary perspective, a normal would be amazed by his graceful and liquid movements, smooth like a large cat. But Elle is not most people. She picks up on the slightest hesitations and tension creased on his face- that indicate soreness and pain. The large tiger doesn‘t want to reveal that he‘s broken. His complexion is ghostly white, dark circles under his eyes. The damaging effects of being pumped full of drugs, forced through rigorous tests, and tortured. Even in such a state, he is still beautiful. God-like.
“They say that you're the big, bad boogieman. Stories of heads cut off and brains are scaring all of the little specials in their sleep.” Elle licks her lips and gently glides her fingers slowly and seductively across the glass. “Now what I can’t figure out -- is how does the meanest son of a bitch get captured and locked up?"
"Just lucky, I guess."
Elle wasn’t sure if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. She affected a lot of people that way.
“Well, now that I’ve gotten the guards out of the way and the security cameras are playing a fun game on the agents, we’re going to finally get some uninterrupted quality time together.”
This is the moment she’s been waiting for. The beast smiles contently within her dark consciousness as she swipes her Company card on the door’s lock. The security box flashes and beeps at her. Elle raises an eye brow and tries to open the door again. The box beeps a second time.
"NO!!!!" Elle screams.
The worst thing about finally putting together a large, complex puzzle is finding there are missing pieces.
This is absolutely, without a doubt, the worst moment in Elle’s life.
Elle releases a blast of electricity from every inch of her body towards the door. Throws more energy at it then she ever has before. The barrier doesn’t falter, not even a mark. As if the higher ups has expected this. God damn pre-cogs. The intense outburst of power has torn apart and burnt her clothes, revealing matching black lacy undergarments. The tips of her hair are blackened. Smoke steams off of her body- she probably will have the smell of burning on her skin for weeks.
Elle hits her hands against the metal door, willing it to bust open with force. Throws her weight to the punches, clawing in a feral rage. Pounds over and over and over until her tiny fists are bruised and bleeding.
“No, no, no....“ She mumbles softly to herself. Elle slumps against the door, head between her legs. Sweat is trickling down her spine from the exertion of energy.
Defeat and failure are unacceptable. Elle takes a deep breath and counts slowly to five. She doesn’t have the patience for ten. Elle to bounce back onto her feet. The beast begins pacing in front of his cell, her heels clicking fast and dangerous against the concrete. She has a little circuit mapped out that she follows mindlessly.
Elle is back in her inner world, muttering out loud a stream of dark consciousness. “He’s mine. Mine. He belongs to me. They can’t stop me. I’m going to kill them all. Every last one of them. They think they can control me. Keep him from me. Fry their brains so hot, roast their insides, microwave them until they pop. Blood everywhere. I want them to pay. Fucking Andrews, if he was still alive I’d turn him to dust. Daddy and Bennet are behind this. I know it. They are going to pay so dearly. I‘m going to rip them into tiny pieces with my bare hands….”
Sylar watches Elle with such intensity, like she is the center of his world.
"You know that you've walked past the window twenty times. And that's just when I started counting."
"Shut up."
He smirks, knows how to hit her buttons. "You're just angry because you can't get what you want. Daddy won't let you play."
Elle creates a vibrant ball of sparkling power in her hands. A trail of dangerous blue electricity follows her track as she paces. "Maybe they are afraid that I'll tear you apart. Destroy you before you can be of any use to them. Make you into a blacken husk of ashes."
Elle’s little display of threats doesn’t seem to phase Sylar. In the land of predators, the lion never fears the fox.
"I hear the way the other prisoners and agents talk about you." He says softly, stopping her in her tracks.
Paranoid thoughts are burning to overflow her psyche. "And what exactly do they say?"
"That you're dangerous." His voice is raw. "A sociopath."
"Yep, that sounds about right." She smiles widely, flashing all of her pearly white teeth. "And you're a psychopathic serial killer. A monster. The stuff of nightmares.”
Sylar laughs full out. The laugh is like candy, sweet and infectious. If Elle could bottle up Sylar’s laugh, she knows it would be fattening. Or orgasmic.
Elle’s eyes roam over Sylar. “Most women complain that there are no single, straight men left. I’d just like to meet one who’s human.”
“You aren’t human, any more than I am, my little electric firefly.” His eyes sparkle.
Elle frowns at his comment. "Can the pet names, Gray. You don’t know a thing about me."
"Please. You know nothing about you, Elle." Sylar sighs, sadness and irritation apparent in both his face and voice. Unlike Elle, Sylar seemed to be ruled by his ever changing and usually conflicting emotions. While Elle’s existence seemed to be a bottomless void, Sylar’s is overflowing with heightened emotional states. They were polar opposites, sitting on the extremes ends of the spectrum.
Elle wasn‘t quite ready to admit out loud being manipulated and controlled, can‘t show weakness to the big bad predator in front of her. So she changes the subject instead.
"What am I going to do with you now?"
His lips twitch to a smile. "I have a list, but I left it in my other pants."
Elle raises an eyebrow. She sighs with annoyance and then puts on her fake cheerful voice. "Oh well, looks like my Company card expired. That’s what I get for overspending! Daddy always said I was greedy, warned me about too much intimate time with the other prisoners. Guess that means I get cut off from you. It doesn't really matter. I'm starting to grow bored of you anyways."
"You were always a bad liar."
Lying is like breathing to a sociopath. When caught in a lie and challenged, Elle usually makes up new lies and doesn‘t care if she‘s found out. Lying, deceiving, and manipulation are part of her special talents. With his remark, Elle is not perplexed or embarrassed. She merely shrugs indifferently at his comment.
She puts on her bubbly and childish mask, her voice sing-songy. “Don’t want you anyways. Useless to me since Bennet has already broken you. Pathetic, damaged goods.” Elle places her hands on her hips and playfully sticks out her tongue at Sylar.
“Stop.” Sylar lashes out, his voice cuts like sharp daggers.
Elle softly whimpers immediately, her knees feel weak. She avoids eye contact and feels the urge to abase herself in the face of such power. Tail between her legs, begging for forgiveness. Elle manages to stand her ground…barely. She glances up cautiously after a few moments of silence.
His face extremely serious, but his voice holds both longing and anger. “You don’t have to pretend. Put on that act with me.”
“What are you babbling about?”
“Elle…” His voice holds warning.
“Fine. If you insist.” Elle listens to his orders, her mask gone and face emotionless. Her voice is cold, empty...reflecting her true existence. "There. Are you happy now?“
Silence. And then finally, a response. “No….not really.“
Elle rolls her eyes. Decides to shift the power dynamics, gain control - by bruising his inflated ego. Her voice is dark and deep. “Pretty pitiful attempt at escaping this morning. You're going to be here- for-ever. Only way you're going to leave this facility is through a plastic - black - body bag. Deader than a snowman in July. And I mean TV movie of the week, CNN all day coverage kinda dead. I’d be happy to put you in a body bag myself, but I have more important things to worry about."
Sylar looks as if he is considering her remarks thoughtfully, the gears ticking within his mind.
Suddenly, Elle hears commotion at the end of the hallway. The agents have figured out the she’s interacting with Sylar.
“Looks like our play time has ended.” She sighs. "I almost had you."
"Almost doesn't count." He whispers back.
Elle smiles widely, the cheerful mask firmly back in place. Blows him a playful kiss. "Bye bye, butterfly.”
Elle skips off humming a tune to a song that is painfully familiar to Sylar. He smiles in response to the sounds of the agents’ screams. Watches with reverence as the kitten finds temporary satisfaction in massacring the suits, the smell of burning flesh and blood fills the hall. Elle shows Sylar what he’s missing out on.
Epilogue
Elle isn’t surprised that Sylar took her advice. Literally. Died and came back to life. Like a modern day god. But Elle is stunned to learn that he ran off to be with someone else. Well, not exactly in the romantic sense. He tried to overpower the Cheerleader a second time, only to be stopped again by the Haitian and Bennet. The thought of him fixated on that silly pathetic Pom Pom brings foreign sensations through her body, making her tense and on-edge.
Elle prides herself on always getting what she wants. But Sylar is the only one that got away from her clutches. She is antsy because she never truly got her release. All that buildup and no orgasm. Maybe if Elle had gotten her hands on him in the very beginning, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought. But deep down, Elle knows that he’s not like the others. He's different, special. It takes weeks before Elle realizes that she’s suffering from her first experience of a crush.
He’s killing again, stealing powers from the weak and unworthy. The Company continues to put full force into pursing Sylar, though they are keeping Elle in the dark per usual. Some days Elle has the urge to leave the Company, track him down, and demand answers. He is the key to unlocking the secrets, stolen memories. Perhaps she could join him in his slaughtering. Be free to be who she truly is. Though Elle is unclear of the power dynamics between the two of them. Like alpha predators, they could either mate for life or fight to the death when they finally come face to face. Plus, the idea of wandering out into that wild, confusing world holds her captive at the Company. The Company is her… home. Though there is that saying - home is where the heart is. But where do you go when you don’t have a heart?
Now that Sylar is gone, Elle is back to her regular routine. Unfortunately, the normally satisfying schedule is not as fulfilling as before. Instead, she is distracted, he fills her consciousness with tremendous need and longing during the day. When Elle closes her eyes, he haunts her dreams with passion and pain. Elle wakes up in the middle of the night panting and in cold sweat, body aching to be touched. Other nights she wakes up in a near panicked state feeling powerless, clutching her stomach- swears she can hear the echoes of a baby crying out in the darkness. She’s not a fan of those particular nightmares.
Daddy must of sensed a change in Elle. So he gave her a new assignment to keep her occupied, controlled. Track down and apprehend pretty Peter Petrelli. Apparently, Daddy believes that the Petrelli’s youngest son is extremely dangerous and unknowingly part of some diabolical inner Company scheme that Elle is assigned to unravel. The case helps keep Sylar off her mind…at least during the day.
Elle’s life is a careful balance of chaos and order. Elle fills up that void, that cold emptiness with pain, blood, and death. The rules, structure, and routine help control the darkness. Shower. Coffee. Paperwork. Morning victim. Lunch. Meeting with Daddy. Hand out pills. Research potential specials. Dinner. Post dinner victim. Sleep. Just another day on the job.
~ Fin. ~
Author's note: I know, I know, I’m a tease. Many of you expressed anticipation of Elle and Sylar finally meeting up. And I threw in the twist of Elle getting locked out. But, I like the idea of Elle struggling with not getting exactly what she wants. Thoughts/reactions to how this played out?
Oh, and this is not the end of the story. Be on the lookout for the sequel --- it will focus on Elle’s adventures as well as her reflections/interactions with our favorite serial killer during Volume 2. Expect to see exploration of the aftermath of the Season 1 finale - How to Stop an Exploding Man… Elle capturing Peter, Sylar in surgery at the Company after getting stabbed by Hiro, Elle vs. Candice, and much much more! ;)