Something a little different
Title: Wandering Thoughts
Author: Megmatthews20
Characters: Sylar, mentions of Mohinder, Peter, Chandra (and a few characters I made up from Sylar's past)
Word Count: 773
Rating: G
Challenge: Ten Words Challenge for the word "Hero"
Summary: Sylar is wandering through the desert after killing Candice...and reliving certain thoughts in his mind
A/N: I've been really curious to delve into Sylar as a character...so this is my attempt at trying to figure him out a bit...it's pretty close to gen-fic...and I wrote in first-person for a change...con-crit much appreciated
Turns out you’re the villain, Peter. I’m the hero.
In grade school they sent me home for attempting to stab Jeffrey Hanes with scissors. No one bothered to point out how he’d been insulting me, making comments about how strange I was, about how nobody liked me. I hated him. I hated them all. Screw them. They didn’t know who I was. One day I found him walking home from school alone. His eyes got so wide as I cornered him. I watched the blood run from his mouth, courtesy of my repeated blows to his face. He never told anyone. He was scared of what I might do to him.
So tired.
In middle-school I would walk back and forth in P.E. A doctor’s note my mom had forged kept me from participating. So instead I watched them all from the walk-way above the bleachers. I presided over them. I imagined myself choosing the strongest members of the class, putting them in my army, where I would have total control. They would bend to my will. They would adore and worship me. And I would allow it. They all watched me up there. I know they made fun of me under their breath. But I didn’t care. I knew I was different. I was better than them.
So hot.
In high-school I was no team captain. I made one friend, Rebecca. We made out once or twice. Then she got scared, claimed I was too aggressive, too strange. She spoke to her friends about me behind my back. But she was weak. So I ignored her. I didn’t want her.
God, it hurts.
Years and years at that shop. Polite smiles. Watches fixed so easily. One minute to repair a Rolex, broken and forgotten for a whole year. Such a simple and easy task. Why? Why didn’t they care to bring them sooner? Why didn’t they understand the beauty of a perfectly ticking time-piece? They were so impressed by me. Invisible me, who only came into existence when it was convenient for them.
Too much sand.
Then came that watch, two seconds slow, on the wrist of the man who would change my life forever, who would guide me to my destiny. But he was a weak old man, broken by the flaws of his past. His dead daughter. His distanced son...
Oh his son...
Mohinder.
So naive, and yet, so much stronger than his father. And my only friend. Chandra was polite, and invited me back again and again, but Mohinder reached out. He offered me a warm hand in a cold world, the only true kindness anyone had ever shown me. He listened to me, genuinely listened. For the first time in my life I actually wanted to be around someone. It wasn’t a chore. It wasn’t a hassle. For a few fine days, it was bliss.
Just over that hill.
And then he saw through Zane Taylor. He saw through my carefully crafted character. Perhaps he would not have, had it not been for the article on Zane’s death. But I would like to believe that he would know. One way or another he would have eventually known. We were friends after all. I think Mohinder knew me better than anyone, and that is why he pulled the trigger.
No one, there’s no one.
It didn’t matter, I had my own destiny. Friends or no friends, I was someone different. I had something really big in store for me, and Peter Petrelli would help make that a reality. I’m not a monster. I don’t want to kill everyone. I just want a little understanding. I want them to know who it is they’re dealing with. I’m not some random freak.
I’m Sylar.
People would know me. They would respect me. They might even come to love me. After all, I wasn’t some frightened boy who couldn’t control his powers. I had everything under control.
I’m going to die out here.
I couldn’t say whether it hurt or not when Nakamura ran me through with the sword. I can barely remember my vague surprise at seeing Mohinder on Kirby Plaza. All I know is that I had a destiny, and it was taken from me.
So thirsty.
And now. And now...
Let someone come. Anyone. Please.
I need to get back. I have to get my powers back. I have to return to America, to New York. That is where I’ll find hope.
Got to lie down. Just for a moment.
That is where I’ll find everything.
Author: Megmatthews20
Characters: Sylar, mentions of Mohinder, Peter, Chandra (and a few characters I made up from Sylar's past)
Word Count: 773
Rating: G
Challenge: Ten Words Challenge for the word "Hero"
Summary: Sylar is wandering through the desert after killing Candice...and reliving certain thoughts in his mind
A/N: I've been really curious to delve into Sylar as a character...so this is my attempt at trying to figure him out a bit...it's pretty close to gen-fic...and I wrote in first-person for a change...con-crit much appreciated
Turns out you’re the villain, Peter. I’m the hero.
In grade school they sent me home for attempting to stab Jeffrey Hanes with scissors. No one bothered to point out how he’d been insulting me, making comments about how strange I was, about how nobody liked me. I hated him. I hated them all. Screw them. They didn’t know who I was. One day I found him walking home from school alone. His eyes got so wide as I cornered him. I watched the blood run from his mouth, courtesy of my repeated blows to his face. He never told anyone. He was scared of what I might do to him.
So tired.
In middle-school I would walk back and forth in P.E. A doctor’s note my mom had forged kept me from participating. So instead I watched them all from the walk-way above the bleachers. I presided over them. I imagined myself choosing the strongest members of the class, putting them in my army, where I would have total control. They would bend to my will. They would adore and worship me. And I would allow it. They all watched me up there. I know they made fun of me under their breath. But I didn’t care. I knew I was different. I was better than them.
So hot.
In high-school I was no team captain. I made one friend, Rebecca. We made out once or twice. Then she got scared, claimed I was too aggressive, too strange. She spoke to her friends about me behind my back. But she was weak. So I ignored her. I didn’t want her.
God, it hurts.
Years and years at that shop. Polite smiles. Watches fixed so easily. One minute to repair a Rolex, broken and forgotten for a whole year. Such a simple and easy task. Why? Why didn’t they care to bring them sooner? Why didn’t they understand the beauty of a perfectly ticking time-piece? They were so impressed by me. Invisible me, who only came into existence when it was convenient for them.
Too much sand.
Then came that watch, two seconds slow, on the wrist of the man who would change my life forever, who would guide me to my destiny. But he was a weak old man, broken by the flaws of his past. His dead daughter. His distanced son...
Oh his son...
Mohinder.
So naive, and yet, so much stronger than his father. And my only friend. Chandra was polite, and invited me back again and again, but Mohinder reached out. He offered me a warm hand in a cold world, the only true kindness anyone had ever shown me. He listened to me, genuinely listened. For the first time in my life I actually wanted to be around someone. It wasn’t a chore. It wasn’t a hassle. For a few fine days, it was bliss.
Just over that hill.
And then he saw through Zane Taylor. He saw through my carefully crafted character. Perhaps he would not have, had it not been for the article on Zane’s death. But I would like to believe that he would know. One way or another he would have eventually known. We were friends after all. I think Mohinder knew me better than anyone, and that is why he pulled the trigger.
No one, there’s no one.
It didn’t matter, I had my own destiny. Friends or no friends, I was someone different. I had something really big in store for me, and Peter Petrelli would help make that a reality. I’m not a monster. I don’t want to kill everyone. I just want a little understanding. I want them to know who it is they’re dealing with. I’m not some random freak.
I’m Sylar.
People would know me. They would respect me. They might even come to love me. After all, I wasn’t some frightened boy who couldn’t control his powers. I had everything under control.
I’m going to die out here.
I couldn’t say whether it hurt or not when Nakamura ran me through with the sword. I can barely remember my vague surprise at seeing Mohinder on Kirby Plaza. All I know is that I had a destiny, and it was taken from me.
So thirsty.
And now. And now...
Let someone come. Anyone. Please.
I need to get back. I have to get my powers back. I have to return to America, to New York. That is where I’ll find hope.
Got to lie down. Just for a moment.
That is where I’ll find everything.