Surprise!
Who: Iago and Sylar- eventually the Marquis and Tim
Where: Fifth floor corridor. Sylar’s room.
When: Early, early morning
Warnings: Violence and character death
Iago had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, back in his cabin. For a half hour, he wandered about the room, touching, smelling, seeing…trying to get a feel for where he was. His memories were intact, but it was a process of trying to quietly integrate those memories back to where they needed to be, especially after he had just endured torture and death again.
But despite that calm exterior, he was not happy with the way things were. He did not want to be back on the Barge, especially when he had no idea what had gone on. These kinds of out of control thoughts were maddeningly frustrating for him, and he wanted so badly to assert some kind of control on this place. On someone.
The first target he thought of was Sylar. The man, as he recalled, had betrayed him once. Deeply betrayed him. And he should not be allowed to get away with it. A look through his communicator really yielded no relevant information, aside from the fact that it seemed to be a time for new arrivals again. That might bode well for him.
A shatter came from his bathroom and he picked a suitable shard from the broken pieces of mirror. His hand was bleeding now, but he was able to wrap cloth around it. Concealing his makeshift weapon in the pages of a heavy book, he gripped it tightly and set off. A note he wrote when he first conceived his plan was slipped under West’s door along the way and after that…he didn’t stop until he was leaning back against Sylar’s door, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was starting to bleed through his makeshift rag.
He reached back and knocked once on the door, his stance changing slightly. He had to rely on surprise for this.
Where: Fifth floor corridor. Sylar’s room.
When: Early, early morning
Warnings: Violence and character death
Iago had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, back in his cabin. For a half hour, he wandered about the room, touching, smelling, seeing…trying to get a feel for where he was. His memories were intact, but it was a process of trying to quietly integrate those memories back to where they needed to be, especially after he had just endured torture and death again.
But despite that calm exterior, he was not happy with the way things were. He did not want to be back on the Barge, especially when he had no idea what had gone on. These kinds of out of control thoughts were maddeningly frustrating for him, and he wanted so badly to assert some kind of control on this place. On someone.
The first target he thought of was Sylar. The man, as he recalled, had betrayed him once. Deeply betrayed him. And he should not be allowed to get away with it. A look through his communicator really yielded no relevant information, aside from the fact that it seemed to be a time for new arrivals again. That might bode well for him.
A shatter came from his bathroom and he picked a suitable shard from the broken pieces of mirror. His hand was bleeding now, but he was able to wrap cloth around it. Concealing his makeshift weapon in the pages of a heavy book, he gripped it tightly and set off. A note he wrote when he first conceived his plan was slipped under West’s door along the way and after that…he didn’t stop until he was leaning back against Sylar’s door, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was starting to bleed through his makeshift rag.
He reached back and knocked once on the door, his stance changing slightly. He had to rely on surprise for this.