Heroes - Gabriel Gray - PG - Analyze and Interpret
Title: Analyze and Interpret
Author: Alex (mars_of_war)
Fandom: Heroes
Characters: Gabriel Gray, Elle (very briefly)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for the (Season 3) Villains arc
Word Count: 311
Notes: This was an RP sample for a game I'm currently playing in, but I'm actually very happy with the writing. As such, it's told from limited-third person, and although Elle is in it briefly, she's only referred to as "she". If this were re-written, I could expand on Elle's presence, but since I don't like Elle very much, I wouldn't expect that to happen if I were you.
Disclaimer: Heroes. Not mine. If it were, I promise I wouldn't play yo-yo with everyone so much.
Zzap. Crash. Shatter.
Lighting flew from Gabriel's fingertips and hit the glass, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. His companion smiled in delight, but Gabriel only frowned, brow furrowing in concentration. True, he'd hit his designated target, but only just. It wasn't enough, wasn't good enough. His aim wasn't accurate enough. He wasn't mastering the skill fast enough.
Okay, so, great - the hunger wasn't about killing people and he could acquire power without getting additional blood on his hands. He hadn't needed dear old dad to tell him that. What the old man didn't understand, Gabriel thought, lining up another shot, was that the hunger was about more than power. It was about more than being the "most special."
He took a step back, surveying the damage. Out of ten targets, eight were decimated. Eight in ten wasn't bad for a beginner, but he knew he didn't have that kind of time. Not just because of deadlines, but because of his own need for perfection. He felt a nudge at the back of his thoughts, and he turned his head almost imperceptibly to one side.
"We're going to need a few more beakers," he intoned flatly.
The hunger, he thought, as he heard the door slide shut, was about figuring out how things worked and without seeing that vital piece of the puzzle, he was fumbling in the dark.
This was not - could never be - enough. Despite everything he dreamed for about changing himself, he knew the truth. He turned his head as the door opened again, eyes dark. The monster was sated for now, but he could feel that it couldn't last - the sleeping demon would wake up again, and then...
She called his name, and he smiled, a mask clicked into place, and he felt something stir inside him. He stomped it down, and fired off another shot, hoping for satisfactory improvement.
Author: Alex (mars_of_war)
Fandom: Heroes
Characters: Gabriel Gray, Elle (very briefly)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for the (Season 3) Villains arc
Word Count: 311
Notes: This was an RP sample for a game I'm currently playing in, but I'm actually very happy with the writing. As such, it's told from limited-third person, and although Elle is in it briefly, she's only referred to as "she". If this were re-written, I could expand on Elle's presence, but since I don't like Elle very much, I wouldn't expect that to happen if I were you.
Disclaimer: Heroes. Not mine. If it were, I promise I wouldn't play yo-yo with everyone so much.
Zzap. Crash. Shatter.
Lighting flew from Gabriel's fingertips and hit the glass, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. His companion smiled in delight, but Gabriel only frowned, brow furrowing in concentration. True, he'd hit his designated target, but only just. It wasn't enough, wasn't good enough. His aim wasn't accurate enough. He wasn't mastering the skill fast enough.
Okay, so, great - the hunger wasn't about killing people and he could acquire power without getting additional blood on his hands. He hadn't needed dear old dad to tell him that. What the old man didn't understand, Gabriel thought, lining up another shot, was that the hunger was about more than power. It was about more than being the "most special."
He took a step back, surveying the damage. Out of ten targets, eight were decimated. Eight in ten wasn't bad for a beginner, but he knew he didn't have that kind of time. Not just because of deadlines, but because of his own need for perfection. He felt a nudge at the back of his thoughts, and he turned his head almost imperceptibly to one side.
"We're going to need a few more beakers," he intoned flatly.
The hunger, he thought, as he heard the door slide shut, was about figuring out how things worked and without seeing that vital piece of the puzzle, he was fumbling in the dark.
This was not - could never be - enough. Despite everything he dreamed for about changing himself, he knew the truth. He turned his head as the door opened again, eyes dark. The monster was sated for now, but he could feel that it couldn't last - the sleeping demon would wake up again, and then...
She called his name, and he smiled, a mask clicked into place, and he felt something stir inside him. He stomped it down, and fired off another shot, hoping for satisfactory improvement.