and all the mistakes that went on for too long
Who: Batman [kingofrooks] and Sylar/Gabriel Gray [fixesclocks]. Later with a cameo by Re-l Mayer [proxysearch].
When: The night of November 1st
Where: All over the island, especially in the shadows.
Summary: The second confrontation. This time, Sylar loses.
Warnings: Violence, violence, violence.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Batman was no fool; he had never been. Death had been an expected outcome, but his resurrection was a gift that he had tried to question without reaching a apparent conclusion. There was a price for it - a price that he would greatly pay. A price that he had been building up into paying for all the time he had been back, keeping secrets and deliberately not hiding in the shadows. The Port had kept her silence about his reappearance to anyone else who could speak to her, while he had chased down information and people and machines. The weight of his trump card weighed heavily in his pocket; a reminder of what he had to do and what was to be done tonight. Batman did not lose; and if he did, he was no such fool as to do it twice.
Sylar's footprints were bright behind his eyes as he swept through the shadows. He had been watching the man when he had fought with that veritable army that went after him; knew that he had been poisoned. He knew better than to expect him to be weakened, however - Sylar had the ability to steal powers, and there were rumours of a dead SERO scientist, of strange blood, of a head carved open. A head belonging to a man with an immunity to poisons.
Batman travelled through the shadows like one of them himself, making no sound, sweeping across the broken-down pieces of the world. The entire Port herself was rigged. Death was a calming experience, and when calm, he planned. And he never failed. Batman pulled himself away from the wall- but not too much. His cape seemed stuck to it, a part of the shadows itself.
Through the Port's voice, he spoke- not any physical voice, but a mental one, sinking right into Sylar's brain:
Have you seen your own defeat?
When: The night of November 1st
Where: All over the island, especially in the shadows.
Summary: The second confrontation. This time, Sylar loses.
Warnings: Violence, violence, violence.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Batman was no fool; he had never been. Death had been an expected outcome, but his resurrection was a gift that he had tried to question without reaching a apparent conclusion. There was a price for it - a price that he would greatly pay. A price that he had been building up into paying for all the time he had been back, keeping secrets and deliberately not hiding in the shadows. The Port had kept her silence about his reappearance to anyone else who could speak to her, while he had chased down information and people and machines. The weight of his trump card weighed heavily in his pocket; a reminder of what he had to do and what was to be done tonight. Batman did not lose; and if he did, he was no such fool as to do it twice.
Sylar's footprints were bright behind his eyes as he swept through the shadows. He had been watching the man when he had fought with that veritable army that went after him; knew that he had been poisoned. He knew better than to expect him to be weakened, however - Sylar had the ability to steal powers, and there were rumours of a dead SERO scientist, of strange blood, of a head carved open. A head belonging to a man with an immunity to poisons.
Batman travelled through the shadows like one of them himself, making no sound, sweeping across the broken-down pieces of the world. The entire Port herself was rigged. Death was a calming experience, and when calm, he planned. And he never failed. Batman pulled himself away from the wall- but not too much. His cape seemed stuck to it, a part of the shadows itself.
Through the Port's voice, he spoke- not any physical voice, but a mental one, sinking right into Sylar's brain:
Have you seen your own defeat?