For Sylar

[downsidedarling]

Diana's been having a bad day.

"Oh look," she grumbles. "Another man. I bet he's a rapist. The last ten men I checked out of this shithole were fucking rapists."

She places a hand on the oval window and closes her eyes.

Comments

[the_brain_man]

The first time, the very first time, he killed with his hands. If he’d expected anything, it would have been for murder to be difficult - but Brian Davis just stopped, a watch with the coil ripped out, a defunct piece to be scavenged for salvageable parts

[downsidedarling]

"Well, fuck me," says Diana, angry but impressed. "This is one seriously sick motherfucker."

Beep. A button on the wall is pressed. "989254371, twelve for J." There's the impression of stunned silence on the other end of the line. "And he's going down unconscious, I'm not having this shitstain pollute La Verdance with his psychopathic crap. Send a guide who can take a beating, too. He's probably a fighter." She walks away, slapping a second button (Beep) as she goes. The door opens. Sylar hangs in the air, sleeping, arms crossed on his chest like a mummy. A brawny, harried-looking woman in crisp business attire stalks along the corridor, picks him up unceremoniously, and carries him to the surface

[the_brain_man]

He doesn’t recognise the room - it’s unexceptional, could be any one of a hundred cheap holes he’s seen. (But how did he get here?) The next second, he’s standing, file in hand, staring at the woman who’s so impudently unafraid and who knew his-

“My name is Sylar,” he says, semi-automatically, eyes narrowed. Too quiet here. An oddness-a barely discernable strangeness that he can’t locate the source of. (He died. -but he’s alive?) And his shocked attention flies down to his stomach-there should be a wound, there should be ragged flesh and pain and cold numbness, but there’s nothing-

He’s watching the woman again, sharper and harder than any human stare has a right to be, his fingers tight on the papers. (‘Sentence papers’?)

“How long have I been here?” he demands.

[downsidedarling]

"This room? Two minutes. This city? Twenty. Dead? Fuck knows, I sure don't." The red-haired woman laughs harshly. "Yeah, you're dead, by the way. Welcome to Downside. You'll fit right in. You got nine questions left."