fic: Unraveling
Title: Unraveling
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 634
Pairings or Characters: Adam
Warnings: He's in a coffin the whole time, if that bothers you...
Summary: Adam spends his time in his coffin musing, plotting, and trying to avoid going insane.
Author's Note: Written for heroes_contest, but I got the deadline wrong and missed it, lol. If you want to check out the other entries, though (and maybe vote, yes?), you can check them out here!
Adam Monroe often marveled at the human race. They had never particularly impressed him except for those rare occasions when some had proven more tolerable than others. Some of them he had even loved. And some of those had been too small-brained to handle people such as himself. Still, he had loved them.
He had lost track of time in the coffin. No idea if it was day or night, 2006 or 2010. He had never taken time to check the decay rate of his suit, and when the threads weakened and frayed, he didn't know if a decade or ten had passed.
He supposed he ought to be worried, but he knew, logically, that worry would only lead to doubt and insanity. He had caught himself worrying a couple times already, felt the almost imperceptible fabric of reality in his mind start to unravel. Whenever that happened, he would close his eyes - though it was hard to tell if they were closed or not in this darkness, so it hardly mattered - and dreamt of better times.
Better times, when he was free again. Better times, when he reacquainted himself with humanity just enough to wipe it out. He'd already tried, what, two times with the virus, but he had been trying for longer than that. He'd started a riot in Miami once, that had been fun. Oh, and that race riot in... had it been LA? Some city out West. Most of them blurred together after a while.
But that virus... It would have been his crowning glory, his greatest achievement. He would have been one of the few humans left standing, and all those left would be strong, like him. Blessed, like him. He would have been their leader. They would have praised him.
How he hated Hiro. Twice now, centuries apart, foiled both times by a short, walking carp. And he mustn't forget the Company. He'd killed so many of them, but Angela was still alive. And Maury was still alive, that ass.
No matter. In time, he would be free again, and he would pick up his rampage where he had left off. He owed something to Peter, too, though whether it would be anything good or not depended on Adam's mood.
God, what was taking her so long?
Not that he believed in God anymore. He just had more time to think in this box than he ever had in four centuries. There wasn't much else to do. And he had decided long ago that God as people knew Him did not exist. He vaguely remembered believing in some invisible being as a child, but he had outgrown such fantasies. That was before he had known he was an immortal, before he was someone who had turned the course of history multiple times, sometimes out of sheer whim.
No, God was dead. But Adam was alive. And he'll wipe out the unworthy ones with flood and plague.
He wished Hiro had put him in a bigger coffin. Adam didn't get cramps, but he hated feeling sedentary. He'd tried doing some yoga, but he'd nearly gotten stuck twisted in a ball and hadn't tried it since.
At least his wife would understand. She was special, too, and she understood the necessity of trimming down the world's population. She would find him, free him, and they would go on a glorious rampage together. He had told her once, soon after they'd met, that humanity's time would pass, that the time was coming, and he had seen the light in her eyes. It was why he had chosen to marry her next. She understood these things.
He stretched as much as the coffin would allow. And then, after humanity was wiped clean, he was signing up for a yoga class.
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 634
Pairings or Characters: Adam
Warnings: He's in a coffin the whole time, if that bothers you...
Summary: Adam spends his time in his coffin musing, plotting, and trying to avoid going insane.
Author's Note: Written for heroes_contest, but I got the deadline wrong and missed it, lol. If you want to check out the other entries, though (and maybe vote, yes?), you can check them out here!
Adam Monroe often marveled at the human race. They had never particularly impressed him except for those rare occasions when some had proven more tolerable than others. Some of them he had even loved. And some of those had been too small-brained to handle people such as himself. Still, he had loved them.
He had lost track of time in the coffin. No idea if it was day or night, 2006 or 2010. He had never taken time to check the decay rate of his suit, and when the threads weakened and frayed, he didn't know if a decade or ten had passed.
He supposed he ought to be worried, but he knew, logically, that worry would only lead to doubt and insanity. He had caught himself worrying a couple times already, felt the almost imperceptible fabric of reality in his mind start to unravel. Whenever that happened, he would close his eyes - though it was hard to tell if they were closed or not in this darkness, so it hardly mattered - and dreamt of better times.
Better times, when he was free again. Better times, when he reacquainted himself with humanity just enough to wipe it out. He'd already tried, what, two times with the virus, but he had been trying for longer than that. He'd started a riot in Miami once, that had been fun. Oh, and that race riot in... had it been LA? Some city out West. Most of them blurred together after a while.
But that virus... It would have been his crowning glory, his greatest achievement. He would have been one of the few humans left standing, and all those left would be strong, like him. Blessed, like him. He would have been their leader. They would have praised him.
How he hated Hiro. Twice now, centuries apart, foiled both times by a short, walking carp. And he mustn't forget the Company. He'd killed so many of them, but Angela was still alive. And Maury was still alive, that ass.
No matter. In time, he would be free again, and he would pick up his rampage where he had left off. He owed something to Peter, too, though whether it would be anything good or not depended on Adam's mood.
God, what was taking her so long?
Not that he believed in God anymore. He just had more time to think in this box than he ever had in four centuries. There wasn't much else to do. And he had decided long ago that God as people knew Him did not exist. He vaguely remembered believing in some invisible being as a child, but he had outgrown such fantasies. That was before he had known he was an immortal, before he was someone who had turned the course of history multiple times, sometimes out of sheer whim.
No, God was dead. But Adam was alive. And he'll wipe out the unworthy ones with flood and plague.
He wished Hiro had put him in a bigger coffin. Adam didn't get cramps, but he hated feeling sedentary. He'd tried doing some yoga, but he'd nearly gotten stuck twisted in a ball and hadn't tried it since.
At least his wife would understand. She was special, too, and she understood the necessity of trimming down the world's population. She would find him, free him, and they would go on a glorious rampage together. He had told her once, soon after they'd met, that humanity's time would pass, that the time was coming, and he had seen the light in her eyes. It was why he had chosen to marry her next. She understood these things.
He stretched as much as the coffin would allow. And then, after humanity was wiped clean, he was signing up for a yoga class.