(no subject)
Title: Sylar is Not an Empath
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Sylar, Peter, Bennet
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,184
Spoilers: Season 2, season 3 if you squint
Summary: AU. Powerless!Sylar becomes an empath, but it's not what you think. Crack!fic, Gen-fic. Takes place around Season 2.
A/N: this takes place when Sylar was without powers. Also, in this AU, THE HUNGARRR isn't part of Intuitive Aptitude, and Peter's empathic mimicry can pick up IA without him having to strain for it. Basically this is just for my own amusement, hence the f-locking. Woo.
---
Sylar slams Peter against the door. Peter's eyes widen.
"No no no, you don't have to do this, you don't have to kill me, you're just like me, no, NO--"
Blood splatters on Sylar's shirt, and Sylar frowns, silently. Too hasty, much too hasty, Sylar thinks, and he shrugs off the shirt with disdain. He could have easily avoided the mess with a splash of telekinesis, but in his powerless state, he had to to get used to doing things the hard way.
Now Peter lies sprawled in front of him, the hole in his head gaping like an open mouth. Sylar smiles, then turns to wipe the blood off his knife. A pity things didn't work out with Candice, Sylar thinks to himself. There's a sound, and Sylar's head practically whips backward: the damn Petrelli is lying on the ground as if nothing had happened, rubbing his temple and struggling to sit up.
"Shit," Sylar says. Peter groans, the gash on his forehead knitting back together. If Peter were smarter, he would have realized that he could have teleported out of the warehouse ages ago. But Peter's not smart, he's too panicked to think clearly. Sylar takes advantage of this: he knocks Peter upside the head, dragging him unconscious across the floor.
****
An empath with intuitive aptitude is a dangerous thing, especially if said empath is also immortal, so Sylar has to take extra precautions to make sure Peter doesn't escape: he blindfolds Peter's eyes to keep him from using telekinesis; for the electricity, he puts Peter's feet in water. It's entertaining to watch Peter shock himself attempting to escape--his skin heals so quickly, Sylar can't help but feel a little bit jealous--but then Peter starts to float out of the chair (damn flying!) and Sylar has to weigh him down with bricks on Peter's lap. "And don't you even think about using fire," Sylar says, and he douses Peter with gasoline. "Because we both know that even though you can heal, the people who live around this building can't."
Then Peter turns invisible. Sylar smacks Peter's invisible face with the side of a crowbar. "Enough," Sylar says. Peter sags in the chair.
Sylar paces around the warehouse. He tried this with Candice, but it didn't work. She died and that delicious ability of hers was lost. Sylar grinds his teeth. If he kills Peter, he could lose everything. Sylar grunts, frustrated. Meanwhile Peter struggles in his bonds, seemingly forgetting that he has super strength and could tear right through them like paper if he wanted. He's panicking and he's breathing hard.
"You can't do this," Peter says. He cranes his neck, straining against the rope. "Please, it's not gonna work--"
Peter's voice dips. His breathing slows. "You don't want to kill me," Peter says. Sylar cocks his head.
"Oh really?" Sylar says. "Because believe it or not, I've been looking forward to killing you for a very long time."
"Except that right now, killing me isn't a guarantee you'll get my ability," Peter says, and the cadence of his voice changes, matches the exact pitch and tone of Sylar's own. "That's right, I know what happened. You don't have your powers, but I have yours. Don't look so shocked. I've had it for a long time," Peter says.
"You're trying to manipulate me," Sylar says, and his mouth quirks to the side. "That's so...entertaining...Peter. You don't even know."
"You're stalling," Peter says. "Think about it. An empath with intuitive aptitude. I never understood any of my powers, but I do now. And I can teach you all of them. Including my own."
Sylar can almost hear the tic tic tic of Peter's brain, whirring and processing, and yet to Sylar's amusement it still hasn't occurred to Peter that he could escape anytime he wanted. Sylar smirks.
"What makes you think I won't kill you when I'm done?" Sylar asks. Peter only smiles.
"What makes you think I won't kill you?"
*****
It takes Sylar the better part of the afternoon before Peter finally finishes explaining exactly how empathic mimicry works. Even without that exquisite understanding, Sylar is still able to force himself to adapt. His mind, clumsy and sluggish without his ability, seems to be clouded over in a gray fog. So this is what it's like to be an empath, Sylar thinks, grimly. It's no wonder Peter keeps screwing up.
Sylar opens the window. Sunlight pours into the room, and Sylar closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Everything around him seems cleaner, crisper, like the world is suddenly spilling inside of him....
Wait, what? Sylar blinks. The vaguely sexual undertone aside, Sylar is jarred by the fact that somehow he's become the woman in this scenario.
"You're starting to feel it, aren't you?" Peter asks.
"What?" Sylar turns. The feeling is so strange. Everything is open now, warmth and light radiating from everything around him. Fortunately, Sylar's always been good at multi-tasking: even though he's feeling somewhat unbalanced, he's still got the presence of mind to keep Peter firmly in check. "Of course I feel it. It's not so complex, after all. I would have figured it out even without you telling me."
"Sure you would have," Peter says. Sylar tries to ignore him. He glances back at Peter, notices the raw skin around his wrists. The handcuffs look like they hurt. Sylar winces. He just look so sad....
Sylar jerks back, horrified. "What the hell did you do to me?" Sylar asks.
"I gave you my ability, just like you gave me yours," Peter says.
"But this isn't me, I can't think anymore--oh my god, this isn't me!"
"Too much to handle?" Peter asks.
"Shut up!" Sylar says. He fights the irresistible urge to cry in Peter's lap. "Just shut up! Shut up!"
Sylar lurches outside, clutching his head in his hands. He's overwhelmed. Suddenly everything in his past comes rushing back: his mother, her murder, the look in her eyes....
"Fuck!" Sylar says. Reflexively, his mind clamps down on the memories, but it's too late: the pain of it swells up in his chest. "No, no, no...."
In the warehouse, Peter listens for signs of Sylar. Quietly, he uses his telekinesis to undo the blindfolds and the chains. He teleports away, the pool of water rippling under his disappearing feet.
*****
Bennet sees Sylar crouched in an alleyway, eyes wide and confused and wandering the street in a dazed fog. "Don't move!" Bennet says, and Sylar doesn't. His face is vacant, placid, and he surrenders himself without a fight. Bennet is confused. He radios back to headquarters, pressing a gun against Sylar's back.
"I forgive you," Sylar says. Bennet stares at him.
"What?"
"I said, I forgive you," Sylar says. "I know you're just following orders. I know the conflict you must feel, trying to protect your family, being alienated from everyone else. You and I are alike, Noah. We can help each other. I know it."
"Oh for chrissakes." Bennet shoves Sylar forward. "One more word and I'll shoot you right here, you hear me?"
"You're in pain, Noah. I can see it in your eyes," Sylar says.
Bennet tasers Sylar in the back. Sylar falls, unconscious.
"Whoops," Bennet says. He reholsters the gun. "I forgive you, too."
-----
A/N: All I know is, if IA can give you TEH HUNGAAARR, then empathic mimicry can give you an epic case of Teh Epic St00pids. I'm just sayin'. LOL.
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Sylar, Peter, Bennet
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,184
Spoilers: Season 2, season 3 if you squint
Summary: AU. Powerless!Sylar becomes an empath, but it's not what you think. Crack!fic, Gen-fic. Takes place around Season 2.
A/N: this takes place when Sylar was without powers. Also, in this AU, THE HUNGARRR isn't part of Intuitive Aptitude, and Peter's empathic mimicry can pick up IA without him having to strain for it. Basically this is just for my own amusement, hence the f-locking. Woo.
---
Sylar slams Peter against the door. Peter's eyes widen.
"No no no, you don't have to do this, you don't have to kill me, you're just like me, no, NO--"
Blood splatters on Sylar's shirt, and Sylar frowns, silently. Too hasty, much too hasty, Sylar thinks, and he shrugs off the shirt with disdain. He could have easily avoided the mess with a splash of telekinesis, but in his powerless state, he had to to get used to doing things the hard way.
Now Peter lies sprawled in front of him, the hole in his head gaping like an open mouth. Sylar smiles, then turns to wipe the blood off his knife. A pity things didn't work out with Candice, Sylar thinks to himself. There's a sound, and Sylar's head practically whips backward: the damn Petrelli is lying on the ground as if nothing had happened, rubbing his temple and struggling to sit up.
"Shit," Sylar says. Peter groans, the gash on his forehead knitting back together. If Peter were smarter, he would have realized that he could have teleported out of the warehouse ages ago. But Peter's not smart, he's too panicked to think clearly. Sylar takes advantage of this: he knocks Peter upside the head, dragging him unconscious across the floor.
****
An empath with intuitive aptitude is a dangerous thing, especially if said empath is also immortal, so Sylar has to take extra precautions to make sure Peter doesn't escape: he blindfolds Peter's eyes to keep him from using telekinesis; for the electricity, he puts Peter's feet in water. It's entertaining to watch Peter shock himself attempting to escape--his skin heals so quickly, Sylar can't help but feel a little bit jealous--but then Peter starts to float out of the chair (damn flying!) and Sylar has to weigh him down with bricks on Peter's lap. "And don't you even think about using fire," Sylar says, and he douses Peter with gasoline. "Because we both know that even though you can heal, the people who live around this building can't."
Then Peter turns invisible. Sylar smacks Peter's invisible face with the side of a crowbar. "Enough," Sylar says. Peter sags in the chair.
Sylar paces around the warehouse. He tried this with Candice, but it didn't work. She died and that delicious ability of hers was lost. Sylar grinds his teeth. If he kills Peter, he could lose everything. Sylar grunts, frustrated. Meanwhile Peter struggles in his bonds, seemingly forgetting that he has super strength and could tear right through them like paper if he wanted. He's panicking and he's breathing hard.
"You can't do this," Peter says. He cranes his neck, straining against the rope. "Please, it's not gonna work--"
Peter's voice dips. His breathing slows. "You don't want to kill me," Peter says. Sylar cocks his head.
"Oh really?" Sylar says. "Because believe it or not, I've been looking forward to killing you for a very long time."
"Except that right now, killing me isn't a guarantee you'll get my ability," Peter says, and the cadence of his voice changes, matches the exact pitch and tone of Sylar's own. "That's right, I know what happened. You don't have your powers, but I have yours. Don't look so shocked. I've had it for a long time," Peter says.
"You're trying to manipulate me," Sylar says, and his mouth quirks to the side. "That's so...entertaining...Peter. You don't even know."
"You're stalling," Peter says. "Think about it. An empath with intuitive aptitude. I never understood any of my powers, but I do now. And I can teach you all of them. Including my own."
Sylar can almost hear the tic tic tic of Peter's brain, whirring and processing, and yet to Sylar's amusement it still hasn't occurred to Peter that he could escape anytime he wanted. Sylar smirks.
"What makes you think I won't kill you when I'm done?" Sylar asks. Peter only smiles.
"What makes you think I won't kill you?"
*****
It takes Sylar the better part of the afternoon before Peter finally finishes explaining exactly how empathic mimicry works. Even without that exquisite understanding, Sylar is still able to force himself to adapt. His mind, clumsy and sluggish without his ability, seems to be clouded over in a gray fog. So this is what it's like to be an empath, Sylar thinks, grimly. It's no wonder Peter keeps screwing up.
Sylar opens the window. Sunlight pours into the room, and Sylar closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Everything around him seems cleaner, crisper, like the world is suddenly spilling inside of him....
Wait, what? Sylar blinks. The vaguely sexual undertone aside, Sylar is jarred by the fact that somehow he's become the woman in this scenario.
"You're starting to feel it, aren't you?" Peter asks.
"What?" Sylar turns. The feeling is so strange. Everything is open now, warmth and light radiating from everything around him. Fortunately, Sylar's always been good at multi-tasking: even though he's feeling somewhat unbalanced, he's still got the presence of mind to keep Peter firmly in check. "Of course I feel it. It's not so complex, after all. I would have figured it out even without you telling me."
"Sure you would have," Peter says. Sylar tries to ignore him. He glances back at Peter, notices the raw skin around his wrists. The handcuffs look like they hurt. Sylar winces. He just look so sad....
Sylar jerks back, horrified. "What the hell did you do to me?" Sylar asks.
"I gave you my ability, just like you gave me yours," Peter says.
"But this isn't me, I can't think anymore--oh my god, this isn't me!"
"Too much to handle?" Peter asks.
"Shut up!" Sylar says. He fights the irresistible urge to cry in Peter's lap. "Just shut up! Shut up!"
Sylar lurches outside, clutching his head in his hands. He's overwhelmed. Suddenly everything in his past comes rushing back: his mother, her murder, the look in her eyes....
"Fuck!" Sylar says. Reflexively, his mind clamps down on the memories, but it's too late: the pain of it swells up in his chest. "No, no, no...."
In the warehouse, Peter listens for signs of Sylar. Quietly, he uses his telekinesis to undo the blindfolds and the chains. He teleports away, the pool of water rippling under his disappearing feet.
*****
Bennet sees Sylar crouched in an alleyway, eyes wide and confused and wandering the street in a dazed fog. "Don't move!" Bennet says, and Sylar doesn't. His face is vacant, placid, and he surrenders himself without a fight. Bennet is confused. He radios back to headquarters, pressing a gun against Sylar's back.
"I forgive you," Sylar says. Bennet stares at him.
"What?"
"I said, I forgive you," Sylar says. "I know you're just following orders. I know the conflict you must feel, trying to protect your family, being alienated from everyone else. You and I are alike, Noah. We can help each other. I know it."
"Oh for chrissakes." Bennet shoves Sylar forward. "One more word and I'll shoot you right here, you hear me?"
"You're in pain, Noah. I can see it in your eyes," Sylar says.
Bennet tasers Sylar in the back. Sylar falls, unconscious.
"Whoops," Bennet says. He reholsters the gun. "I forgive you, too."
-----
A/N: All I know is, if IA can give you TEH HUNGAAARR, then empathic mimicry can give you an epic case of Teh Epic St00pids. I'm just sayin'. LOL.