Time to Kill - Sylar and Hiro - Part One
Character: Sylar and Hiro
Genre: Gen
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1000
Rating: R for violence in future chapters
Notes: This is set right after the events of Five Years Gone.
They shot Hiro, and the other one got away. I was a mess from my battle with Peter, but thanks to Claire I healed fast. I couldn’t say the same for the building that we leveled. Peter was gone. I had no idea where he’d gone, but he’d ruined my cushy life at the White House not that it was bad to be wearing my own face. I was sick of pretending to be Nathan Petrelli. Peter would be plotting his revenge if he was capable of plotting beyond rushing at me and shouting, “You killed my brother, prepare to die.”
Most of my pieces on the chessboard died today along with Hiro. Suresh was gone, and so was Parkman. The Haitian was down before I left New York to fight Peter. All in all it was a cluster fuck, and I know why - Hiro Nakamura. The little shit was more of a pain in my ass than Peter Petrelli ever will be, and why? Because he was incapable of leaving well enough alone, but thanks to Parkman I knew where to wait for him. The one from my timeline might be gone, but another would come to take his place, pick up his mission. He was like goddamn Kenny, and I would be the bastard to kill him once and for all.
I flew back to New York, leaving Peter to dig himself out of the rubble. He’d be after me once he figured out I was still alive, and I couldn’t wait. Being the President was interesting, but it wasn’t fun. Being Peter’s nemesis - now that was fun - and I couldn’t wait for the next time we ran into each other. But I needed to level the playing field. I’d collected a lot of powers from Nathan’s internment camps, but there were a few that I hadn’t been able to take Peter’s, Claire’s and Hiro’s. I had Claire’s, but I still wanted the other two. I was practically drooling about the possibilities when I made my way into Isaac’s studio.
The place was nearly in ruins after Peter blew up, but now with Hiro’s crazy macramé it looked worse. A thick coating of dust covered everything, and the scraps of paper and bad photos swung from the strings of yarn as I closed the door behind me. The black thread was mine. I chuckled as I traced it. Laughed when I saw that it never once crossed with Nathan’s. I’d fooled them all except Parkman, but he kept his mouth shut with good reason.
I brushed my fingers over each thread, reading the memories of Hiro’s emotions when he built his cat’s cradle of chaos. He was desperate to stop me. Frantic to make sure that I didn’t blow up New York. I wonder what he would have thought if he knew the truth that Peter was the bomb not me. I can’t wait for him to show up, so I can tell him. He’ll be hurt, betrayed and angry. He and Peter were two of a kind, comic book heroes, who thought they could change the world.
They were wrong. It took power to change the world, and it took a lack of conscience to do what had to be done. Neither of them could have stepped into Nathan’s shoes the way that I did. The country would have crumbled with Peter giving half of it away. He’d be so busy trying to save everyone that no one would survive. You have to pick your losses. You can’t save everyone. You have to save the ones who matter, and having a world where specials out numbered the normals was the road to the end. Nathan had it right when he started rounding them up.
Sure he did it to make sure another ‘Sylar’ didn’t happen, and I kept that mask on the projects when I assumed his identity. But the truth was that evolution killed, and the only way for humanity to survive, the earth to survive, was to keep the number of specials under control. It’s why I happened. I am their predator. It was easier when I had the National Guard to help me control them, but I could go back to the old way. I missed the feel of blood and brains on my fingers.
“Christ, I miss that so much,” I said to myself as I ran my finger over a picture of me hanging on the black ribbon. “You’ll be the first, Hiro.” I licked my lips as I traced a line over the wanted poster he had of himself. “I’ll wait for you forever if I have to, and then I’ll take that incredible power of yours and make it mine.”
I didn’t expect Hiro too soon. It’d be awhile until one from the fractured realities he’d created with his interference to come to home base. This place was his constant, a homing beacon that they used to plan their next move. Each thread traced a new timeline that he’d created by making changes in the past. That’s why time travel was dangerous, and someone like Hiro shouldn’t have that power. Even Peter seemed to know better than to mess with fate, but not Hiro. He thought it was his sacred duty. I wondered how many alternate realities he’d created. How many Peters, Sylars and Hiros were out there?
With a final snap of my fingers on a picture of Peter, I started digging through the rest of the chaos in the loft. It was quite a change from my suite in the White House. Something scurried in the shadows as I moved between the shelves and tables of crap, and I used my telekinesis to grab a rat before it could slither between some moldy canvases. I crushed it with a thought, squeezing the life out of it with a squeal and then went hunting for a garbage bag to stuff the furry corpse in. Luckily I learned where Isaac kept his cleaning equipment from my time here five years ago.
***
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Gen
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1000
Rating: R for violence in future chapters
Notes: This is set right after the events of Five Years Gone.
They shot Hiro, and the other one got away. I was a mess from my battle with Peter, but thanks to Claire I healed fast. I couldn’t say the same for the building that we leveled. Peter was gone. I had no idea where he’d gone, but he’d ruined my cushy life at the White House not that it was bad to be wearing my own face. I was sick of pretending to be Nathan Petrelli. Peter would be plotting his revenge if he was capable of plotting beyond rushing at me and shouting, “You killed my brother, prepare to die.”
Most of my pieces on the chessboard died today along with Hiro. Suresh was gone, and so was Parkman. The Haitian was down before I left New York to fight Peter. All in all it was a cluster fuck, and I know why - Hiro Nakamura. The little shit was more of a pain in my ass than Peter Petrelli ever will be, and why? Because he was incapable of leaving well enough alone, but thanks to Parkman I knew where to wait for him. The one from my timeline might be gone, but another would come to take his place, pick up his mission. He was like goddamn Kenny, and I would be the bastard to kill him once and for all.
I flew back to New York, leaving Peter to dig himself out of the rubble. He’d be after me once he figured out I was still alive, and I couldn’t wait. Being the President was interesting, but it wasn’t fun. Being Peter’s nemesis - now that was fun - and I couldn’t wait for the next time we ran into each other. But I needed to level the playing field. I’d collected a lot of powers from Nathan’s internment camps, but there were a few that I hadn’t been able to take Peter’s, Claire’s and Hiro’s. I had Claire’s, but I still wanted the other two. I was practically drooling about the possibilities when I made my way into Isaac’s studio.
The place was nearly in ruins after Peter blew up, but now with Hiro’s crazy macramé it looked worse. A thick coating of dust covered everything, and the scraps of paper and bad photos swung from the strings of yarn as I closed the door behind me. The black thread was mine. I chuckled as I traced it. Laughed when I saw that it never once crossed with Nathan’s. I’d fooled them all except Parkman, but he kept his mouth shut with good reason.
I brushed my fingers over each thread, reading the memories of Hiro’s emotions when he built his cat’s cradle of chaos. He was desperate to stop me. Frantic to make sure that I didn’t blow up New York. I wonder what he would have thought if he knew the truth that Peter was the bomb not me. I can’t wait for him to show up, so I can tell him. He’ll be hurt, betrayed and angry. He and Peter were two of a kind, comic book heroes, who thought they could change the world.
They were wrong. It took power to change the world, and it took a lack of conscience to do what had to be done. Neither of them could have stepped into Nathan’s shoes the way that I did. The country would have crumbled with Peter giving half of it away. He’d be so busy trying to save everyone that no one would survive. You have to pick your losses. You can’t save everyone. You have to save the ones who matter, and having a world where specials out numbered the normals was the road to the end. Nathan had it right when he started rounding them up.
Sure he did it to make sure another ‘Sylar’ didn’t happen, and I kept that mask on the projects when I assumed his identity. But the truth was that evolution killed, and the only way for humanity to survive, the earth to survive, was to keep the number of specials under control. It’s why I happened. I am their predator. It was easier when I had the National Guard to help me control them, but I could go back to the old way. I missed the feel of blood and brains on my fingers.
“Christ, I miss that so much,” I said to myself as I ran my finger over a picture of me hanging on the black ribbon. “You’ll be the first, Hiro.” I licked my lips as I traced a line over the wanted poster he had of himself. “I’ll wait for you forever if I have to, and then I’ll take that incredible power of yours and make it mine.”
I didn’t expect Hiro too soon. It’d be awhile until one from the fractured realities he’d created with his interference to come to home base. This place was his constant, a homing beacon that they used to plan their next move. Each thread traced a new timeline that he’d created by making changes in the past. That’s why time travel was dangerous, and someone like Hiro shouldn’t have that power. Even Peter seemed to know better than to mess with fate, but not Hiro. He thought it was his sacred duty. I wondered how many alternate realities he’d created. How many Peters, Sylars and Hiros were out there?
With a final snap of my fingers on a picture of Peter, I started digging through the rest of the chaos in the loft. It was quite a change from my suite in the White House. Something scurried in the shadows as I moved between the shelves and tables of crap, and I used my telekinesis to grab a rat before it could slither between some moldy canvases. I crushed it with a thought, squeezing the life out of it with a squeal and then went hunting for a garbage bag to stuff the furry corpse in. Luckily I learned where Isaac kept his cleaning equipment from my time here five years ago.
***
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.