Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World; Ch 1: The Likely Lad
Title: Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World
Fandom: Heroes
Ch: 1/??
P/C: Sylar/OFC
Rating: R
Summery: Set 14 years pre-series. Nobody knew what he thought about Queens anyway, nobody asked.
A/N: The title of this story is a song by the Ramones.
Queens, New York, March 1994
Gabriel loved Queens. He loved the way the houses were lined up, the way everyone on his block knew each other. He'd come to hate Queens by the time he changed his name, by the time he was special. It felt like a stain on him, how pointless his hometown felt. Sylar hated the people, the trees, the lawns and the hopefulness of suburbia that would never be quite gained. Ozone Park, full of crime and mafia bosses and ageing beatniks. Full of failure.
But before Sylar there was only Gabriel Gray, age sixteen. Nobody knew what he thought about Queens anyway, nobody asked. "That sad little dork" was what most people called him (that is, if they bothered to call him anything at all). The sad little dork was walking home, a square, thin brown paper wrapped object under his arm. He walked with his head down, staring right at his shoes, bowling forward almost blindly. He knew he had to hurry, especially if his mother wouldn't be stopping for bridge with Mrs. Wyhndermeer. Sunday mass had ended five minutes ago and he knew she'd be home by 11:15.
So it was against his better judgement when he decided to stop. He'd heard a muffled yell come from between the two houses he was walking past. He clutched the thin package more tightly. He'd been jumped by boys from his neighborhood before, which usually ended up in broken glasses and a bloody nose for him. A good laugh, his dad might have said.
He peered into the mouth of the alleyway. He saw two boys he knew from school: Erik Brenner and Tommy Michail. They had somebody pinned up against the wall of one of the houses. The person gave another muffled yell.
"What is it with you and comics Gabriel? You should be reading serious books!" his mother would often wail at his closed door. But he didn't just read any old comic. He read the X-Men, exclusively. He knew the Dark Phoenix Saga by heart, having read it for the first time at age ten. He sometimes pretended Jean Grey was his girlfriend (he thought other things about her that he had told Father O'Brien at confession, always wishing that God could mind his own buisness, while he heard the drunk slob of a priest pretend not to laugh at him) or imagined being strong like Colossus. But it was Wolverine that he wanted to be. Every night when he went to sleep, he prayed that God would make him more like Wolverine: tough and cool. Somebody other people would notice, someone they would love.
And it was now that he felt like all that knee-wear was finally going to pay off. One of the boys shifted and he could see who it was that they had cornered: Kay Engleside, wearing big combat boots, a short skirt and a leather jacket. Her make up was smeared and her dyed hair was mussed. There was a bruise snaking it's way up her jaw. To Gabriel, the bruise made her look beautiful, the way black made everything else brighter.
He stepped into the alleyway, the same thought playing over and over in his head: Hero, got to be a hero, need to be a hero "Hey!" he shouted.
The two boys turned around, scared at first. But when they saw who it was, skinny, silent Gabriel Gray, whose dad had run off and whose mom used to slut around (oh, didn't you know?) they turned back to Kay, with every intention of ripping off her clothes. After all, who was going to stop them? That pussy?
"Hey!" he shouted again.
"What d'ya want Gabby? Wanna suck me off for free?" Erik Brenner called. "Cause this little bitch is asking for five bucks and I'm broke, so I'm not too choosy right now."
Tommy and Erik had turned their attention away from Kay for only a second, but it was enough. There was an empty beer bottle at her feet. She snatched it up and broke it over Erik's head. He didn't fall down so much as sit down very quickly, clapping his hand to his head like somebody who's forgotten something and only just realized. Then he keeled over. Tommy knocked the remains of the bottle out of her hands. "You fucking slut!"
Gabriel grabbed the lid off of the nearest trash can. He swung it violently down onto the other boy's head. He took a wobbling step and then toppled to the ground, a gash blossoming on the side of his head. Gabriel cried out. The package he'd been carrying had been dropped in the tussle and now Tommy Michail's big booted foot had crushed it.
Bastard he thought. Big stupid jerk!
Through the torn paper he could see a weeks worth of fixing pocket watches for old Jewish men in Ming's for pennies as so much dust in the wind: the splintered vinyl, the ripped cardboard. "The Who Sell Out". His only contraband in his mother's house: Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin. And The Who, with Pete Townsend, tall and skinny, just like him.
"Kid, we have to go." Kay was pulling on his sweater's sleeve. "When he wakes up, they might try to fuck you in the mouth too. Or they might just kill you." She looked at the smashed album. "Look, I'll buy you a new 'Who' record myself. Let's just go!" She practically dragged him out of his shoes. Gabriel turned to look at her. She was so small compared to him. She darted forward quickly and kissed him. "C'mon. Let's beat feet."
And with that she grabbed his hand and started to run and he ran with her. A month ago, hell, a day ago, he was nobody. But now, she'd made him somebody. "I've never kissed a girl before," he said suddenly. She smiled. "You think I couldn't tell?" And they kept running and all thoughts of being home on time for his mother faded.
Fandom: Heroes
Ch: 1/??
P/C: Sylar/OFC
Rating: R
Summery: Set 14 years pre-series. Nobody knew what he thought about Queens anyway, nobody asked.
A/N: The title of this story is a song by the Ramones.
Queens, New York, March 1994
Gabriel loved Queens. He loved the way the houses were lined up, the way everyone on his block knew each other. He'd come to hate Queens by the time he changed his name, by the time he was special. It felt like a stain on him, how pointless his hometown felt. Sylar hated the people, the trees, the lawns and the hopefulness of suburbia that would never be quite gained. Ozone Park, full of crime and mafia bosses and ageing beatniks. Full of failure.
But before Sylar there was only Gabriel Gray, age sixteen. Nobody knew what he thought about Queens anyway, nobody asked. "That sad little dork" was what most people called him (that is, if they bothered to call him anything at all). The sad little dork was walking home, a square, thin brown paper wrapped object under his arm. He walked with his head down, staring right at his shoes, bowling forward almost blindly. He knew he had to hurry, especially if his mother wouldn't be stopping for bridge with Mrs. Wyhndermeer. Sunday mass had ended five minutes ago and he knew she'd be home by 11:15.
So it was against his better judgement when he decided to stop. He'd heard a muffled yell come from between the two houses he was walking past. He clutched the thin package more tightly. He'd been jumped by boys from his neighborhood before, which usually ended up in broken glasses and a bloody nose for him. A good laugh, his dad might have said.
He peered into the mouth of the alleyway. He saw two boys he knew from school: Erik Brenner and Tommy Michail. They had somebody pinned up against the wall of one of the houses. The person gave another muffled yell.
"What is it with you and comics Gabriel? You should be reading serious books!" his mother would often wail at his closed door. But he didn't just read any old comic. He read the X-Men, exclusively. He knew the Dark Phoenix Saga by heart, having read it for the first time at age ten. He sometimes pretended Jean Grey was his girlfriend (he thought other things about her that he had told Father O'Brien at confession, always wishing that God could mind his own buisness, while he heard the drunk slob of a priest pretend not to laugh at him) or imagined being strong like Colossus. But it was Wolverine that he wanted to be. Every night when he went to sleep, he prayed that God would make him more like Wolverine: tough and cool. Somebody other people would notice, someone they would love.
And it was now that he felt like all that knee-wear was finally going to pay off. One of the boys shifted and he could see who it was that they had cornered: Kay Engleside, wearing big combat boots, a short skirt and a leather jacket. Her make up was smeared and her dyed hair was mussed. There was a bruise snaking it's way up her jaw. To Gabriel, the bruise made her look beautiful, the way black made everything else brighter.
He stepped into the alleyway, the same thought playing over and over in his head: Hero, got to be a hero, need to be a hero "Hey!" he shouted.
The two boys turned around, scared at first. But when they saw who it was, skinny, silent Gabriel Gray, whose dad had run off and whose mom used to slut around (oh, didn't you know?) they turned back to Kay, with every intention of ripping off her clothes. After all, who was going to stop them? That pussy?
"Hey!" he shouted again.
"What d'ya want Gabby? Wanna suck me off for free?" Erik Brenner called. "Cause this little bitch is asking for five bucks and I'm broke, so I'm not too choosy right now."
Tommy and Erik had turned their attention away from Kay for only a second, but it was enough. There was an empty beer bottle at her feet. She snatched it up and broke it over Erik's head. He didn't fall down so much as sit down very quickly, clapping his hand to his head like somebody who's forgotten something and only just realized. Then he keeled over. Tommy knocked the remains of the bottle out of her hands. "You fucking slut!"
Gabriel grabbed the lid off of the nearest trash can. He swung it violently down onto the other boy's head. He took a wobbling step and then toppled to the ground, a gash blossoming on the side of his head. Gabriel cried out. The package he'd been carrying had been dropped in the tussle and now Tommy Michail's big booted foot had crushed it.
Bastard he thought. Big stupid jerk!
Through the torn paper he could see a weeks worth of fixing pocket watches for old Jewish men in Ming's for pennies as so much dust in the wind: the splintered vinyl, the ripped cardboard. "The Who Sell Out". His only contraband in his mother's house: Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin. And The Who, with Pete Townsend, tall and skinny, just like him.
"Kid, we have to go." Kay was pulling on his sweater's sleeve. "When he wakes up, they might try to fuck you in the mouth too. Or they might just kill you." She looked at the smashed album. "Look, I'll buy you a new 'Who' record myself. Let's just go!" She practically dragged him out of his shoes. Gabriel turned to look at her. She was so small compared to him. She darted forward quickly and kissed him. "C'mon. Let's beat feet."
And with that she grabbed his hand and started to run and he ran with her. A month ago, hell, a day ago, he was nobody. But now, she'd made him somebody. "I've never kissed a girl before," he said suddenly. She smiled. "You think I couldn't tell?" And they kept running and all thoughts of being home on time for his mother faded.