Taking a Turn Toward Eternity: Chapter 5
Chapter 5
By far and away the hardest chapter to write so far...
Sylar has to explore a new world... with all kinds of problems to be found.
CHAPTER 5
It was always disconcerting to tromp through the memories of another person. Sylar had quickly realized upon the return to his actual body that his clairsentence had evolved. Clearly 'Nathan's' excessive use of the ability had forced an adaptation of sorts. Stepping through the emotions of another person's life was a fucking trip... the bad type. Not that Sylar had much experience with that sort of thing, mind you. Experimenting with drugs had never been high on his list of priorities, even in the days of his youth. Despite his lack of knowledge about the druggy subculture, Sylar figured that the clairsentence was giving him way to see it first hand... or at least as close to first hand as he was ever going to get.
Sylar had discovered many facets of the ability that were unexpected from such a seemingly simple adaptation. Moving 'into' the memories turned out to be another nuance of the ability that was excessively useful when applied to the proper situation. It was clear that memories couldn't always be interpreted in the same manner, even from mind to mind.
It was like learning a new language every time. Sylar was astounded to discover, during his field work on the ability, that synapses would rarely establish a similar pattern from one person to the next. Not only was the 'language' of each person an enigma, but the syntax and grammar were awry as well, with every person slightly coloring their memories with their own viewpoint. Without his intuitive aptitude it would be impossible to comprehend the minds of others in such a manner, he knew this for a fact.
Often the memory sift was like wandering through a giant warehouse that had been hit by a tornado. Chaos reigned in the minds of the average individual, complete with painful memories howling and begging for the smallest amount of attention. Not only were the memories within the mind corporeal but the feelings would often attempt to transfer into his own subconscious. Once and awhile the minds he entered would be so terrified, so lost and so very alone that it was impossible to navigate.
However, Sylar was shocked at how easy it was to navigate though Mac's memory banks, her mind was organized meticulously. Sifting and searching, he attempted to avoid all irrelevant memories, but powerful stray feelings tended to seep though her impressive mental walls. He wasn't surprised that pain, anger and sadness seemed to be trapped in her mind, locked behind iron doors of will. After a few moments, he managed to locate exactly what he was looking for.
Sylar was glad he had also spent the time working out how to pull another person into memories. Without even half an instant to adjust, Sylar activated the memory and both Sylar and Mac were slammed into her memory "world". There was no real transition to speak of, just instant acclimation to entirely new circumstances. It was clear to Sylar that with significant time devoted to his study of this ability there would be even more applications of its power. Any ability that could completely change the world and perceptions around a person could be incredibly useful.
As Sylar became aware of his surroundings, he couldn't seem to distinguish any sensation from the next as he traveled to an epic expanse of space. Mac was incredibly disoriented, still reflexively holding his hand, looking around the void with blurry, glazed eyes. Sylar could see the duplicate original memory version of Mac in the distance, walking. Just walking.
Because there was nothing else.
Sylar looked left. There was just blankness, not even black or dark. Just absence.
To the right, he found the same problem.
Additionally, it seemed that gravity was skewed. Sylar seemed to be floating, but it all seemed terribly normal. Even more disturbingly, it took a moment for him to actually notice the fact. Substance seemed to be absent, but irrelevant at the same time. Then all at once, finally fully aware of his surroundings, Sylar realized that there wasn't even any kind of ground at all. It was just space.
"Freaky, huh?" Mac said with a forced smile.
Sylar shook himself. He was freaked out. There was an eerie energy permeating from wherever the fuck they were and the air was rife with power.
"What the fuck is this place?"
Mac released Sylar's hand and began following her dream-self across the void and motioning him to follow, "Well, I've been given multiple vague explanations. So we've got the regular three dimensions: width, length and height. Then we've got the dimensions of the slightly more free-thinkers," Mac popped up her pinkie and thumb, "Time and space. Then, we've got this crazy place. It's the 6th. Or maybe the 7th, who the hell knows? Just you wait until you hear the crap this guy is about to spout to poor dream me. It'll probably make more sense then."
Sylar was beginning to see the reason that Mac had forced him to visit this... world? Dimension? Place thing? Surely she could have tried explaining the sensation of being here, but he wouldn't have understood, he knew that now. Jesus, he hated being confused about anything, and this place was leading to nothing but confusion. Honestly, not only was the physical world they were visiting a conundrum but his mental processes felt slower. It was exceedingly more difficult to string his thoughts together coherently.
"Where the hell is your dream-self going? This is ridiculous, there's nothing here," Sylar muttered.
Mac sighed and moved her right hand to massage her temple, "He's calling me. All the time. Whispering, in the real world, but here, in his place, it's hard to hear anything else. When I was in the dream," Mac pointed at the past version of herself, "I just kept following his voice. He promises me everything. The universe at my feet, power beyond my wildest imaginings, and the always popular, eternity."
Obviously the laws of physics were skewed too because as Sylar opened his mouth to question Mac further about her dream stalker when he realized that they had crossed a massive amount of space with no effort. Suddenly Mac and Sylar were standing directly behind the dream version of Mac who had managed to discover some kind of altar. This was the only object Sylar had seen since they had arrived.
The altar was impressive to say the least. It was made primarily of flawless black marble, about two feet thick and spread across a large area. The full base of the ebony platform was about thirty feet across and ten feet wide with four small white ivory steps centered on each side of the rectangular altar. About two steps from each corner there were two pillars, placed equidistant from the center. The pillars were made of gray slate and there were tendrils at the bottom which were spearing into the pitch black of the altar, molding into it seamlessly. Additionally each pillar seemed to be pulsing. In fact, from Sylar's perspective it looked like the pillars were breathing.
But the real concern at hand was in a throne positioned in the dead center of the altar. The throne was following the elegant black theme of the altar. It was seamlessly integrated into the base of the platform. Clearly the pillars were connected to the throne as well. Each pillar had one thick gray tendril that speared unerringly towards the throne. The grays were wrapped madly around and through the solid stone making it impossible to discern where the gray ended and black began.
Breaking him out of his deep analysis of the area was the sudden appearance of some sort of portal made of melting blacks, blues and purples. The two men who emerged from the gap were stoic as they stepped onto the altar, seemingly unaffected by stepping into another dimension.
The men were similar in basic physicality, Sylar assumed they were cousins or brothers. The only obvious difference that Sylar could see was their eyes, blazing blue and burning green cutting into dream Mac's. Both were slightly taller than Sylar but maintained a lean form similar to his own.
As Mac, or any woman for that matter, could have told him, they were appealing on a level that was nearly overpowering. There was a savagery lurking under their skin, nearly animalistic in their raw sensuality. A thousand deaths were hidden in their eyes, clearly they knew pain, clearly they knew suffering. It was obvious to Sylar that they were, in fact, the bringers of said pain and suffering.
They were beautiful and they were terrible, a combination that could end any universe.
"Attractive," Sylar supposed to Mac aloud, "Cocky as well."
Sylar was pretty familiar with that particular personality trait. Arrogance was clearly a trait these men owned without a problem. In addition to their general demeanor, the tone Sylar heard them speaking to dream Mac was infused with superiority. 'Blue eyes' had walked up to dream Mac and began circling her while he spoke in quiet, but firm tones.
"Hello again, my Mackenzie," he was called Will, a name he had chosen upon arriving in this universe, for in his world he had no name, as he needed none, "Have you missed me?"
Mac remembered how she had been frozen in place, unable to ever break the spell he seemed to cast over her. Every time she entered his dream realm it was like she could feel his promises caressing her, pulling her ever closer to him. Her own sense of self preservation was constantly fighting his power and screaming to run. Run fast, run far and never look back.
Then he was talking again, in that calm, controlled manner, so matter a fact in his tone. The words were always blurry, her mind fogged over in his presence. He was telling her she was important, perfect and vital to him, vital to his future. His words were everything any woman wants to hear from a gorgeous and powerful man. He was like a dream come true, in looks, in demeanor, but that coldness... that brutal, bruising coldness flowed like waves from him, making the dream all the more terrifying.
"Once the cheerleader joins her power with ours there is no force in the universe that can contain us. We are the future, Mackenzie." Green eyes, known only as Linus added smoothly, his voice slightly softer than his brother's, with just a hint of southern cadence to soften his words.
Mac scoffed loudly, "Sorry pal, but the cheerleader's been claimed."
"Sylar's power is fleeting. Your world is so small, as are its nightmares. He is of no concern to us," Linus waved the thought of the mass murder away causally, as Will seamlessly continued the conversation.
"She will love my brother. We will watch as Claire destroys her greatest enemy and claims her rightful place in a new order. You know, Mackenzie, you'll have a family at long last. We don't begrudge your choices. They turned you into the powerful woman you've become. We have decided to forgive your crimes my dear, but I'm afraid Sylar will not be so fortunate."
"Who died and made you the fucking judge of humanity?" Mac had spit out angrily.
Linus smiled and Mac felt her stomach drop, even from her observational position she could remember the dread that had filled her, how her blood seemed to freeze under his perfect smile.
"Humanity isn't worth the energy to save. They are a brutal, angry and foolish race. They must be culled out. The race is a blight on the universe and must be cleansed and condensed. Be grateful we have chosen you to survive. Billions will perish under our hand, only those worthy of life will remain. You know this is the future, Mackenzie, as we have shown you before."
Oh, and she'd seen. They'd showed her, time and time again in dreams. Different people, different countries, different battles... but all the same. The blood would overwhelm humanity, flowing like a river through the world; the bones of those who were destroyed so quickly that they never even knew pain.
She'd seen visions of the desperate, the lost and the brave.
She'd seen them all tremble at her feet. And it terrified her.
Will and Linus also seemed to have the rather annoying ability to finish each other’s thoughts because once again Will picked up the dialogue, "We are offering all that power to you, my dear. We know that power is your God, Mackenzie. You will be a goddess, a ruler of worlds and eternity. Stand with us, there is nothing I would deny you."
Sylar had heard just about enough.
"What the fuck, Mac?" Sylar rounded on the actual Mackenzie, outrage coating his features.
She rolled her eyes, "I told you it concerned you!"
"You didn't mention that my murder, via Claire, was on the top of the bad guy agenda! Shit," he was pacing now, back and forth across nothingness and continued mumbling under his breath, "Not to mention they're after my woman... Finally, FINALLY, I make a little progress! And what happens? Everybody's always gotta be tromping through my Wonderland..."
When he looked back at the scene of past dreaming, Sylar could see Will had changed tactics, moving around Mac with light touches down her arms and finally ghosting a hand across her cheek, almost reverently. Sylar could hear him, seducing her with words, "Are you aware that you are unique in the whole of existence? My power can give you all your desires, my love."
Sylar watched Mac flinch back from Will, physically moving away from him for the first time. Sylar demanded and explanation and Mac's face went serious was she turned to face him, "That fucker doesn't even know me," She jabbed her finger towards the interaction, "Love means you know someone, inside and out, and then still need them. That's what I'm looking for, Sy, not some power hungry monger trying to manipulate me to be his super powered lap dog."
Sometimes Sylar was awed by Mac's perception, you would think her views would be tainted with the blood of her victims, or perhaps haunted by her own loneliness. Just because you kill doesn't mean you don't love just as fiercely. At the end of the day, love is a mission of the utmost importance, even to those with a darker soul. But how could the dark live with the light? How could he convince Claire that they were compliments? That she was the only destiny he wanted? By their very nature, they should be kept apart, they've been divided down a line of hero versus villain. He needed to erase this line. Between him and Claire, between him and Peter, between him and the world, he had to find balance.
Perhaps this train of thought is what disturbed Sylar's focus, or perhaps some outside force had noticed Mac and Sylar's intrusion, nevertheless, Sylar could feel the dream world slipping away. As they stood in the plane of nothingness, fissures began to form in the very fabric of their world, cracking and breaking to reveal Peter's apartment, complete with one incredibly huffy cheerleader.
As both Sylar and Mac began to shake off the remnants of the world left behind, Claire stomped around Peter's living room, snatching up her possessions and mumbling angrily under her breath, "'Oh, I've changed Claire! I'm a new man!'" Claire's tone had gone deep and mocking in a decent imitation of him own, "What a fucking crock... New man, my ass! Maybe new slut would be more fitting..."
Mac recovered from the dimension shift first, and promptly began chuckling at Claire's rant, "You slut!" Mac pointed at Sylar and burst into a fit of giggles.
Claire didn't happen to see Mac point at Sylar, and needless to say, the situation escalated. Claire's face mutated into a smattering of rage and shame, as she turned on her heel toward Mac with blood in her eye, and dropping her accumulated items. She managed two angry strides toward Mac before Sylar grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her off her feet.
Caught between two, opinionated and stubborn women was the fucking last thing Sylar wanted to deal with on this day that would never end. While holding a flailing Claire, he looked at Mac and in his best, no nonsense voice attempted to diffuse the situation, "Mac, have a little class."
Her laughter never slowed, "She's the one calling people 'slut;' not me!"
"Zip it, Mackenzie!" Her mouth finally snapped shut, and Sylar grabbed one of Claire's hands with surprising gentleness, despite the fact that his temper had reached a breaking point, "What the hell is wrong with you, Claire?"
Claire was flabbergasted yet again. Was she going nuts? Had she not just walked into the room to see Sylar, a man who had just shoved her out the door after turning her into a sizzle of hormonal-madness, in some sort of meditation, voodoo hand hold with the most attractive woman Claire had ever seen? Were they just gonna stand there and look at her like she was the crazy one?
"Are you kidding me?" Claire yelled, mouth finally remembering how to make coherent sentences, "Were you two singing campfire songs in here? Or perhaps I interrupted some kind of gypsy séance? Or maybe, just FUCKING maybe, I'm even stupider than I thought! But I'll tell you this, I'm getting tired of being lied to. Bone tired."
And with that, Claire ripped the hand Sylar was calmly stroking free of his grasp and clocked him in the nose with all her might.
By far and away the hardest chapter to write so far...
Sylar has to explore a new world... with all kinds of problems to be found.
CHAPTER 5
It was always disconcerting to tromp through the memories of another person. Sylar had quickly realized upon the return to his actual body that his clairsentence had evolved. Clearly 'Nathan's' excessive use of the ability had forced an adaptation of sorts. Stepping through the emotions of another person's life was a fucking trip... the bad type. Not that Sylar had much experience with that sort of thing, mind you. Experimenting with drugs had never been high on his list of priorities, even in the days of his youth. Despite his lack of knowledge about the druggy subculture, Sylar figured that the clairsentence was giving him way to see it first hand... or at least as close to first hand as he was ever going to get.
Sylar had discovered many facets of the ability that were unexpected from such a seemingly simple adaptation. Moving 'into' the memories turned out to be another nuance of the ability that was excessively useful when applied to the proper situation. It was clear that memories couldn't always be interpreted in the same manner, even from mind to mind.
It was like learning a new language every time. Sylar was astounded to discover, during his field work on the ability, that synapses would rarely establish a similar pattern from one person to the next. Not only was the 'language' of each person an enigma, but the syntax and grammar were awry as well, with every person slightly coloring their memories with their own viewpoint. Without his intuitive aptitude it would be impossible to comprehend the minds of others in such a manner, he knew this for a fact.
Often the memory sift was like wandering through a giant warehouse that had been hit by a tornado. Chaos reigned in the minds of the average individual, complete with painful memories howling and begging for the smallest amount of attention. Not only were the memories within the mind corporeal but the feelings would often attempt to transfer into his own subconscious. Once and awhile the minds he entered would be so terrified, so lost and so very alone that it was impossible to navigate.
However, Sylar was shocked at how easy it was to navigate though Mac's memory banks, her mind was organized meticulously. Sifting and searching, he attempted to avoid all irrelevant memories, but powerful stray feelings tended to seep though her impressive mental walls. He wasn't surprised that pain, anger and sadness seemed to be trapped in her mind, locked behind iron doors of will. After a few moments, he managed to locate exactly what he was looking for.
Sylar was glad he had also spent the time working out how to pull another person into memories. Without even half an instant to adjust, Sylar activated the memory and both Sylar and Mac were slammed into her memory "world". There was no real transition to speak of, just instant acclimation to entirely new circumstances. It was clear to Sylar that with significant time devoted to his study of this ability there would be even more applications of its power. Any ability that could completely change the world and perceptions around a person could be incredibly useful.
As Sylar became aware of his surroundings, he couldn't seem to distinguish any sensation from the next as he traveled to an epic expanse of space. Mac was incredibly disoriented, still reflexively holding his hand, looking around the void with blurry, glazed eyes. Sylar could see the duplicate original memory version of Mac in the distance, walking. Just walking.
Because there was nothing else.
Sylar looked left. There was just blankness, not even black or dark. Just absence.
To the right, he found the same problem.
Additionally, it seemed that gravity was skewed. Sylar seemed to be floating, but it all seemed terribly normal. Even more disturbingly, it took a moment for him to actually notice the fact. Substance seemed to be absent, but irrelevant at the same time. Then all at once, finally fully aware of his surroundings, Sylar realized that there wasn't even any kind of ground at all. It was just space.
"Freaky, huh?" Mac said with a forced smile.
Sylar shook himself. He was freaked out. There was an eerie energy permeating from wherever the fuck they were and the air was rife with power.
"What the fuck is this place?"
Mac released Sylar's hand and began following her dream-self across the void and motioning him to follow, "Well, I've been given multiple vague explanations. So we've got the regular three dimensions: width, length and height. Then we've got the dimensions of the slightly more free-thinkers," Mac popped up her pinkie and thumb, "Time and space. Then, we've got this crazy place. It's the 6th. Or maybe the 7th, who the hell knows? Just you wait until you hear the crap this guy is about to spout to poor dream me. It'll probably make more sense then."
Sylar was beginning to see the reason that Mac had forced him to visit this... world? Dimension? Place thing? Surely she could have tried explaining the sensation of being here, but he wouldn't have understood, he knew that now. Jesus, he hated being confused about anything, and this place was leading to nothing but confusion. Honestly, not only was the physical world they were visiting a conundrum but his mental processes felt slower. It was exceedingly more difficult to string his thoughts together coherently.
"Where the hell is your dream-self going? This is ridiculous, there's nothing here," Sylar muttered.
Mac sighed and moved her right hand to massage her temple, "He's calling me. All the time. Whispering, in the real world, but here, in his place, it's hard to hear anything else. When I was in the dream," Mac pointed at the past version of herself, "I just kept following his voice. He promises me everything. The universe at my feet, power beyond my wildest imaginings, and the always popular, eternity."
Obviously the laws of physics were skewed too because as Sylar opened his mouth to question Mac further about her dream stalker when he realized that they had crossed a massive amount of space with no effort. Suddenly Mac and Sylar were standing directly behind the dream version of Mac who had managed to discover some kind of altar. This was the only object Sylar had seen since they had arrived.
The altar was impressive to say the least. It was made primarily of flawless black marble, about two feet thick and spread across a large area. The full base of the ebony platform was about thirty feet across and ten feet wide with four small white ivory steps centered on each side of the rectangular altar. About two steps from each corner there were two pillars, placed equidistant from the center. The pillars were made of gray slate and there were tendrils at the bottom which were spearing into the pitch black of the altar, molding into it seamlessly. Additionally each pillar seemed to be pulsing. In fact, from Sylar's perspective it looked like the pillars were breathing.
But the real concern at hand was in a throne positioned in the dead center of the altar. The throne was following the elegant black theme of the altar. It was seamlessly integrated into the base of the platform. Clearly the pillars were connected to the throne as well. Each pillar had one thick gray tendril that speared unerringly towards the throne. The grays were wrapped madly around and through the solid stone making it impossible to discern where the gray ended and black began.
Breaking him out of his deep analysis of the area was the sudden appearance of some sort of portal made of melting blacks, blues and purples. The two men who emerged from the gap were stoic as they stepped onto the altar, seemingly unaffected by stepping into another dimension.
The men were similar in basic physicality, Sylar assumed they were cousins or brothers. The only obvious difference that Sylar could see was their eyes, blazing blue and burning green cutting into dream Mac's. Both were slightly taller than Sylar but maintained a lean form similar to his own.
As Mac, or any woman for that matter, could have told him, they were appealing on a level that was nearly overpowering. There was a savagery lurking under their skin, nearly animalistic in their raw sensuality. A thousand deaths were hidden in their eyes, clearly they knew pain, clearly they knew suffering. It was obvious to Sylar that they were, in fact, the bringers of said pain and suffering.
They were beautiful and they were terrible, a combination that could end any universe.
"Attractive," Sylar supposed to Mac aloud, "Cocky as well."
Sylar was pretty familiar with that particular personality trait. Arrogance was clearly a trait these men owned without a problem. In addition to their general demeanor, the tone Sylar heard them speaking to dream Mac was infused with superiority. 'Blue eyes' had walked up to dream Mac and began circling her while he spoke in quiet, but firm tones.
"Hello again, my Mackenzie," he was called Will, a name he had chosen upon arriving in this universe, for in his world he had no name, as he needed none, "Have you missed me?"
Mac remembered how she had been frozen in place, unable to ever break the spell he seemed to cast over her. Every time she entered his dream realm it was like she could feel his promises caressing her, pulling her ever closer to him. Her own sense of self preservation was constantly fighting his power and screaming to run. Run fast, run far and never look back.
Then he was talking again, in that calm, controlled manner, so matter a fact in his tone. The words were always blurry, her mind fogged over in his presence. He was telling her she was important, perfect and vital to him, vital to his future. His words were everything any woman wants to hear from a gorgeous and powerful man. He was like a dream come true, in looks, in demeanor, but that coldness... that brutal, bruising coldness flowed like waves from him, making the dream all the more terrifying.
"Once the cheerleader joins her power with ours there is no force in the universe that can contain us. We are the future, Mackenzie." Green eyes, known only as Linus added smoothly, his voice slightly softer than his brother's, with just a hint of southern cadence to soften his words.
Mac scoffed loudly, "Sorry pal, but the cheerleader's been claimed."
"Sylar's power is fleeting. Your world is so small, as are its nightmares. He is of no concern to us," Linus waved the thought of the mass murder away causally, as Will seamlessly continued the conversation.
"She will love my brother. We will watch as Claire destroys her greatest enemy and claims her rightful place in a new order. You know, Mackenzie, you'll have a family at long last. We don't begrudge your choices. They turned you into the powerful woman you've become. We have decided to forgive your crimes my dear, but I'm afraid Sylar will not be so fortunate."
"Who died and made you the fucking judge of humanity?" Mac had spit out angrily.
Linus smiled and Mac felt her stomach drop, even from her observational position she could remember the dread that had filled her, how her blood seemed to freeze under his perfect smile.
"Humanity isn't worth the energy to save. They are a brutal, angry and foolish race. They must be culled out. The race is a blight on the universe and must be cleansed and condensed. Be grateful we have chosen you to survive. Billions will perish under our hand, only those worthy of life will remain. You know this is the future, Mackenzie, as we have shown you before."
Oh, and she'd seen. They'd showed her, time and time again in dreams. Different people, different countries, different battles... but all the same. The blood would overwhelm humanity, flowing like a river through the world; the bones of those who were destroyed so quickly that they never even knew pain.
She'd seen visions of the desperate, the lost and the brave.
She'd seen them all tremble at her feet. And it terrified her.
Will and Linus also seemed to have the rather annoying ability to finish each other’s thoughts because once again Will picked up the dialogue, "We are offering all that power to you, my dear. We know that power is your God, Mackenzie. You will be a goddess, a ruler of worlds and eternity. Stand with us, there is nothing I would deny you."
Sylar had heard just about enough.
"What the fuck, Mac?" Sylar rounded on the actual Mackenzie, outrage coating his features.
She rolled her eyes, "I told you it concerned you!"
"You didn't mention that my murder, via Claire, was on the top of the bad guy agenda! Shit," he was pacing now, back and forth across nothingness and continued mumbling under his breath, "Not to mention they're after my woman... Finally, FINALLY, I make a little progress! And what happens? Everybody's always gotta be tromping through my Wonderland..."
When he looked back at the scene of past dreaming, Sylar could see Will had changed tactics, moving around Mac with light touches down her arms and finally ghosting a hand across her cheek, almost reverently. Sylar could hear him, seducing her with words, "Are you aware that you are unique in the whole of existence? My power can give you all your desires, my love."
Sylar watched Mac flinch back from Will, physically moving away from him for the first time. Sylar demanded and explanation and Mac's face went serious was she turned to face him, "That fucker doesn't even know me," She jabbed her finger towards the interaction, "Love means you know someone, inside and out, and then still need them. That's what I'm looking for, Sy, not some power hungry monger trying to manipulate me to be his super powered lap dog."
Sometimes Sylar was awed by Mac's perception, you would think her views would be tainted with the blood of her victims, or perhaps haunted by her own loneliness. Just because you kill doesn't mean you don't love just as fiercely. At the end of the day, love is a mission of the utmost importance, even to those with a darker soul. But how could the dark live with the light? How could he convince Claire that they were compliments? That she was the only destiny he wanted? By their very nature, they should be kept apart, they've been divided down a line of hero versus villain. He needed to erase this line. Between him and Claire, between him and Peter, between him and the world, he had to find balance.
Perhaps this train of thought is what disturbed Sylar's focus, or perhaps some outside force had noticed Mac and Sylar's intrusion, nevertheless, Sylar could feel the dream world slipping away. As they stood in the plane of nothingness, fissures began to form in the very fabric of their world, cracking and breaking to reveal Peter's apartment, complete with one incredibly huffy cheerleader.
As both Sylar and Mac began to shake off the remnants of the world left behind, Claire stomped around Peter's living room, snatching up her possessions and mumbling angrily under her breath, "'Oh, I've changed Claire! I'm a new man!'" Claire's tone had gone deep and mocking in a decent imitation of him own, "What a fucking crock... New man, my ass! Maybe new slut would be more fitting..."
Mac recovered from the dimension shift first, and promptly began chuckling at Claire's rant, "You slut!" Mac pointed at Sylar and burst into a fit of giggles.
Claire didn't happen to see Mac point at Sylar, and needless to say, the situation escalated. Claire's face mutated into a smattering of rage and shame, as she turned on her heel toward Mac with blood in her eye, and dropping her accumulated items. She managed two angry strides toward Mac before Sylar grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her off her feet.
Caught between two, opinionated and stubborn women was the fucking last thing Sylar wanted to deal with on this day that would never end. While holding a flailing Claire, he looked at Mac and in his best, no nonsense voice attempted to diffuse the situation, "Mac, have a little class."
Her laughter never slowed, "She's the one calling people 'slut;' not me!"
"Zip it, Mackenzie!" Her mouth finally snapped shut, and Sylar grabbed one of Claire's hands with surprising gentleness, despite the fact that his temper had reached a breaking point, "What the hell is wrong with you, Claire?"
Claire was flabbergasted yet again. Was she going nuts? Had she not just walked into the room to see Sylar, a man who had just shoved her out the door after turning her into a sizzle of hormonal-madness, in some sort of meditation, voodoo hand hold with the most attractive woman Claire had ever seen? Were they just gonna stand there and look at her like she was the crazy one?
"Are you kidding me?" Claire yelled, mouth finally remembering how to make coherent sentences, "Were you two singing campfire songs in here? Or perhaps I interrupted some kind of gypsy séance? Or maybe, just FUCKING maybe, I'm even stupider than I thought! But I'll tell you this, I'm getting tired of being lied to. Bone tired."
And with that, Claire ripped the hand Sylar was calmly stroking free of his grasp and clocked him in the nose with all her might.