Corrupted Absolutely
Characters: Eden, with Bennet, Sylar, and the Haitian
Rating: R (for a violent death?)
Words: 868
Summary: What might have happened if Eden's plan for Sylar had succeeded
A/N: Written for
jaune_chat's prompt about 'control or the loss of it' at heroes_exchange
Shaking, she watched him fulfill her command. He looked happy, serene, as he pulled the trigger, not thinking about the outcome. They never did. They were always glad to obey.
Blood hit the walls, and smacked forcefully against the glass in front of her.
It was done. It was disgusting. Eden wretched.
She ran from the room, half to keep from passing out, and half to keep herself from picking the gun up and following the command herself. It had always been like this; whenever she really meant it, knew that she wanted it even though it was wrong, felt too strongly about the things she made people do, it always ended up being so powerful that it reverberated within herself, too.
She hadn’t used it in so long, and the rush she felt scared her. It was starting again just like it had the first time. Like her step-mother, Sylar had had it coming. He’d deserved it. She’d done the right thing and avenged Chandra. But was all that worth unleashing the monster again?
“Eden!” She turned around to see Bennet rounding the bend in the hallway. “Where’s the fire?”
She hoped it was over, that it had left her system, that he wouldn’t feel the command emanating in waves off her and go shoot himself, too. She forced herself to be cheery and bright and pretend that nothing had happened, a little command to herself almost. “Nothing! I just… just have to go to the ladies’ room.”
He laughed. “Not sure I needed to know that. Anyway, I’m going to check on the prisoner.”
“No!” she cried, and there it was again, the voice. She didn’t want him to check on the prisoner, but she hadn’t meant for it to come out like that---deep and magical and larger than herself. That’s what always happened; once she let it out even one time, it took over.
He stopped walking, and then slowly turned around. “You know what? He probably doesn’t need checking up on. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she said, horrified and desperate to get away. “Tomorrow.”
This wouldn’t have happened if only he had listened to her earlier---her, not her voice---when she’d asked why Sylar was being kept alive. But that was her curse; the more people listened to the voice, the less anyone listened to her.
***************************************************
Eden ran as far and as fast as she could. She was back at the beginning, alone and empty-handed. The only thing she had was her power, and it was the last thing she wanted.
She remembered what it was like during those horrible years. The way she had taken whatever she wanted, sent people to their dooms, played with people’s lives for sport. It was horrible. It wasn’t her.
Now used twice, it rose within her, warmed up and wanting to be used again. It had taken a month of training with the Haitian to make her stop, to free her of it. The man of no words had mastered her lethal tongue.
Maybe he could do it again. Eden pulled out her phone. He had one, too. He didn’t speak, but he always listened.
The ringing stopped and she saw from the timer that started that he must have picked up, even if there was no hello. She started babbling. “It’s me. It’s Eden. I’ve done something and I need your help. I need you to help me but not tell Bennet. Please.”
The voice didn’t work over the phone, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. No one ever listened to her, not unless she used it. But this was one time when she desperately needed someone to listen, needed him to come before it got even worse, before she lost herself again.
“Please. I’ll be behind the soccer fields.”
The call disconnected with a click. She’d gotten no response.
Eden was almost two miles away from where she said she’d meet him, but it had been the first thing to pop into her head. She could hitch-hike, but was too scared to interact with anyone before he came. Once it got started, it was too easy to continue, and she might never actually make it to the soccer fields, despite her best intentions.
She kept her mouth shut and her legs pumping.
When Eden arrived at the field, he was already there, waiting and silently understanding, like he always was. Eden threw herself into her arms and he held her tight. “I used it,” she sobbed, feeling the comfort of his power trumping hers, making it sleep. “I killed Sylar. Please, make it stop. Take me somewhere and make it go away again.”
She spoke, not it, and he actually listened.
And then he spoke, for the first time ever in her hearing. His voice was deep and rich and beautiful---compelling even though it had none of her perverse power in it. It was the kind of voice she wished she could have---naturally effective, not this dark, twisted hypnosis.
“Come.”
Eden let herself be pulled along, and felt hopeful. She was always happier obeying, anyway.
Rating: R (for a violent death?)
Words: 868
Summary: What might have happened if Eden's plan for Sylar had succeeded
A/N: Written for
jaune_chat's prompt about 'control or the loss of it' at heroes_exchange
Shaking, she watched him fulfill her command. He looked happy, serene, as he pulled the trigger, not thinking about the outcome. They never did. They were always glad to obey.
Blood hit the walls, and smacked forcefully against the glass in front of her.
It was done. It was disgusting. Eden wretched.
She ran from the room, half to keep from passing out, and half to keep herself from picking the gun up and following the command herself. It had always been like this; whenever she really meant it, knew that she wanted it even though it was wrong, felt too strongly about the things she made people do, it always ended up being so powerful that it reverberated within herself, too.
She hadn’t used it in so long, and the rush she felt scared her. It was starting again just like it had the first time. Like her step-mother, Sylar had had it coming. He’d deserved it. She’d done the right thing and avenged Chandra. But was all that worth unleashing the monster again?
“Eden!” She turned around to see Bennet rounding the bend in the hallway. “Where’s the fire?”
She hoped it was over, that it had left her system, that he wouldn’t feel the command emanating in waves off her and go shoot himself, too. She forced herself to be cheery and bright and pretend that nothing had happened, a little command to herself almost. “Nothing! I just… just have to go to the ladies’ room.”
He laughed. “Not sure I needed to know that. Anyway, I’m going to check on the prisoner.”
“No!” she cried, and there it was again, the voice. She didn’t want him to check on the prisoner, but she hadn’t meant for it to come out like that---deep and magical and larger than herself. That’s what always happened; once she let it out even one time, it took over.
He stopped walking, and then slowly turned around. “You know what? He probably doesn’t need checking up on. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she said, horrified and desperate to get away. “Tomorrow.”
This wouldn’t have happened if only he had listened to her earlier---her, not her voice---when she’d asked why Sylar was being kept alive. But that was her curse; the more people listened to the voice, the less anyone listened to her.
***************************************************
Eden ran as far and as fast as she could. She was back at the beginning, alone and empty-handed. The only thing she had was her power, and it was the last thing she wanted.
She remembered what it was like during those horrible years. The way she had taken whatever she wanted, sent people to their dooms, played with people’s lives for sport. It was horrible. It wasn’t her.
Now used twice, it rose within her, warmed up and wanting to be used again. It had taken a month of training with the Haitian to make her stop, to free her of it. The man of no words had mastered her lethal tongue.
Maybe he could do it again. Eden pulled out her phone. He had one, too. He didn’t speak, but he always listened.
The ringing stopped and she saw from the timer that started that he must have picked up, even if there was no hello. She started babbling. “It’s me. It’s Eden. I’ve done something and I need your help. I need you to help me but not tell Bennet. Please.”
The voice didn’t work over the phone, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. No one ever listened to her, not unless she used it. But this was one time when she desperately needed someone to listen, needed him to come before it got even worse, before she lost herself again.
“Please. I’ll be behind the soccer fields.”
The call disconnected with a click. She’d gotten no response.
Eden was almost two miles away from where she said she’d meet him, but it had been the first thing to pop into her head. She could hitch-hike, but was too scared to interact with anyone before he came. Once it got started, it was too easy to continue, and she might never actually make it to the soccer fields, despite her best intentions.
She kept her mouth shut and her legs pumping.
When Eden arrived at the field, he was already there, waiting and silently understanding, like he always was. Eden threw herself into her arms and he held her tight. “I used it,” she sobbed, feeling the comfort of his power trumping hers, making it sleep. “I killed Sylar. Please, make it stop. Take me somewhere and make it go away again.”
She spoke, not it, and he actually listened.
And then he spoke, for the first time ever in her hearing. His voice was deep and rich and beautiful---compelling even though it had none of her perverse power in it. It was the kind of voice she wished she could have---naturally effective, not this dark, twisted hypnosis.
“Come.”
Eden let herself be pulled along, and felt hopeful. She was always happier obeying, anyway.