(no subject)
Title: Define Dangerous
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2002
Chapter: 13/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
Even the nightlife of the gritty East Village died down this late in the evening. Only the last remnants of the freaks and the weirdoes remained, along with the streetwalkers and the homeless bums out searching for a place to call home tonight.
There were others too, more sinister ones that hid in the shadows, waiting in the dark alleys to snatch their prey up. A wandering, young thing, leaving a club after getting a little too drunk would be fair game to these rapists, murderers and common thieves.
Gabriel would never have come down this way this late at night before he became a killer himself. Even if he had been so bold as to travel here after dark, Gabriel was never late coming home. Always on time, usually before the sunset, he was a good little choirboy. That way his mother wouldn't worry about him. Not that she did. She would rather her son be out on the town, taking in the sights like some rich socialite and having late night business dinners with his important colleagues. Or whatever stupid daydream she had come up with that week.
Compelled to take the road less traveled, he now knew the joy taking human life brought. He could empathize with the evil out there in the corners of the city; he belonged to it. Amongst the monsters of the streets and those that hid, awaiting their victims in darkened alleyways, Sylar felt right at home. Whatever wanted to go bump in the night, he was ready for the nice distraction it would bring.
He wouldn't have to wait long. Sylar could feel someone following him down the darkened street, though they didn't feel ready to announce themselves just yet. He knew this stalking was all part of the job of being a monster; they needed to size their prey up first. They were in for a very unpleasant evening when they moved on to the next step and decided to strike.
He would hold back on his powers until then. Maybe let them think he was scared, a lone watchmaker in the bad part of the city, helpless except for the power of his telekinesis. Then they would hurt like they'd never felt pain before, screaming as he ripped them apart and shredded them to pieces. After all, Claire never said he couldn't kill in self-defense.
Eventually, the feeling of being watched stopped and Sylar thought they might have given up. He laughed, wondering what had scared them off so easily. He never would have let a victim go that quickly. He turned a corner and saw a man in an expensive wool suit, standing on the opposite side of the street.
He didn't belong there, with his fine taste in clothes and his big shot mannerisms. He didn't look afraid to be there though, as if all the dangers of this part of the city and the creeps that walked these streets didn't bother him. He seemed absorbed in the conversation he was having on his cell phone but every so often he would look up at Sylar. They sized each other up and Sylar knew it was this man who had been following him.
“He's spotted me. Send the van.”
The man spoke in hushed tones, covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke. Sylar's superhearing still picked up on it, alerting him to the danger and the need for fight or flight. Within sheer seconds, a black van made a right turn onto the street, speeding down the street towards the both of them.
Primatech.
Sylar stopped and watched as the man in the business suit stopped to signal to them, pointing towards him. He saw the man's mouth move but couldn't hear what he said against the murmuring of the van's engine.
Thinking quickly, Sylar reached out for the first large object he saw and attempted to hurl it at the van with his mind. He grabbed at the metal lamppost but couldn't make the connection in his mind. Pointing to the lamppost one last time, Sylar still couldn't budge it. His power was gone and his options were running out. “Shit! Not now!”
Without thinking about anything but escape, Sylar took off running down the street, taking a right down the first crossroad he approached. When he got a few blocks down, he leaned his back against the brick wall of a building, catching his breath and feeling like a coward. They made him run. They actually made him run. He punched the brick with his fist until his knuckles started bleeding, before realizing that it wasn't making him any less angry.
It didn't take too long for the van to spot him again and although he didn't want to run, Sylar couldn't think of any other alternative. He wouldn't be locked up again, poked and prodded while four years of his life went up in smoke, four years of his life he would never get back again. The past haunted him, what they did to him kept coming back in vivid colors. They weren't going to catch him again just so they could stick needles in him again, run their tests and see what made him tick. He couldn't let that happen again.
He couldn't outrun the van though. He crossed another street, noticing an taxi that had its off-duty light on. He stood in the middle of the road, waving the taxi down while Primatech caught up with him. The taxi honked its horn angrily but Sylar stood there, palms out to stop it. The taxi only zoomed around him, leaving him in its dust.
“Son of a bitch!” Sylar screamed out at the passing car. He just wanted a ride, back to the hotel so he could get Claire and get out of this city. As he saw the van nearing him, Sylar wasn't sure he would be able to live past this night. He wouldn't get to tell Claire the good news and see her face light up, maybe get a smile for all his hard work. That was just unacceptable.
He backed up as the van caught him in its headlights. It parked on the road and its doors opened, releasing a group of army soldiers, each one carrying their own weapon. Sylar spun around, noticing a subway entrance not too far down the block and made a break for it. He only hoped a train would be along soon.
“Gabriel Gray, stop where you are. My name is Prescott. I'm here to escort you back to the company, where you belong.” A man called out to him. It sounded like the same one who had made the phone call earlier. He was so close, Sylar could hear him cocking back his gun and feel it aimed for his head. “Don't make us use force. You won't enjoy that very much, I can assure you.”
This did nothing to deter Sylar from thoughts of escape. The man was wrong. He didn't belong to Primatech. How could anyone belong in a ten-by-ten fish tank, never seeing sunlight, while those suits and scientists took careful, measured notes about everything their good little guinea pigs did? It was absurd and he would rather die than go back.
He kept running, taking the stairs two at a time, until he came across a gate barring the entrance of the subway platform. A sign hung across the bars of the gate. 'Closed for Repairs,' it read, mocking him. Sylar could hear the small army of Primatech marching down the stairs after him, led by Prescott and an unwavering conviction. He was blocked in there with no way out, but he still refused to give up.
He wrapped his hands tightly around the gate, rattling it against the walls with so much force that his fingers hurt. It wouldn't move. It was solid, stuck there, trapping him in a nice little cage. Already, he was in a cage and it was one that he had run into himself, too. “Son of a bitch, I'm going to fucking destroy the person who decided to put this here. I'll rip their body in two.. massacre every last one of their family members..”
“You'll do nothing of the sort. Once you're carted off to Primatech, the world will be safe from you again.” Prescott spoke, but did not step forward to claim his captive just yet. He was enjoying this moment, watching his future victim realize that he'd run out of hope. Sylar used to love that feeling, back when he was the one in charge.
Sylar did his best to ignore him and raged at his confines. He kicked the gate, punched it, body-slammed it and as a last ditch effort, attempted to use his telekinesis to remove it from his path. Nothing worked. Without his powers, he wasn't much of a threat to anyone or anything, not even this simple metal gate that served no purpose but to block him inside with the enemy. He was useless.
Sylar put his fingers through the gate again, his body sagging against the cool metal. Resting his head on his forearm, he looked out over the subway platform and the track where he hoped for the train to arrive. It wouldn't now. His plans were cut short, even though he was so close. So very close.
He could sense them behind him, a dozen or more Primatech employees, all aiming their weapons at him, readying to take him back to hell on earth. This was it; Sylar had run as far as he could, there was no place left for him to go. His voice was low, a barely audible whisper. It betrayed the courage his words meant to take on. “I'm not afraid of you.”
“No,” Prescott replied. He spoke with so much disdain it seemed to leak out of his voice, dirtying the ground. “I suspect you wouldn't be. Fear is an emotion, one only real humans can feel. Freaks like you wouldn't understand things like that, would they? Now turn around, nice and slow and put your hands in the air.”
Sylar raised his hands, taking a slow breath before greeting the man who was going to take him back. This was the ambush he had feared was coming ever since leaving the compound and running away with Claire. He thought of Claire, of how Primatech beat her down and nearly broke her spirit. He could be strong for her sake. He wouldn't let these people break him, not again. He cocked his head to the side, “I suppose you want a prize for capturing me. Are you going to get a nice little gold star next to your name at work? Some big, fat promotion?”
“The reward is in the work.” The man pointed his taser gun at Sylar, clicking the setting up to the highest level. “And this is just another day at the office.”
Before Sylar could reply, the gun went off, sending a bolt of white searing-hot energy into his stomach. He fell backwards, colliding with the gate before collapsing to his knees. His hands clutched his side where the taser bolt hit. There were no singe marks but as he coughed, little droplets of blood fell from his mouth and onto the pavement around him. Catching his breath, Sylar mumbled through the pain, “Bastard.”
Prescott hovered above him, an unyielding presence through the pain. He held the taser gun at point blank range as Sylar rolled over onto his back, starring up helplessly. As the man pulled the trigger of his gun and sent another bolt of energy through him, Sylar couldn't help but think that this was how turtles died. Poor, little insignificant turtles. On their backs, unable to move.
Luckily, he blacked out before the pain coursing through his body could register in his mind. The blackness overtook him. He was in Primatech's custody once again.
..to be continued..
Characters: Sylar, Claire.
Spoilers: Up to Season 2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2002
Chapter: 13/?
Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12
Summary: While escaping the Company, Sylar meets up with someone from his past. Together, they must piece together some semblance of normality after years of captivity. Future AU.
Even the nightlife of the gritty East Village died down this late in the evening. Only the last remnants of the freaks and the weirdoes remained, along with the streetwalkers and the homeless bums out searching for a place to call home tonight.
There were others too, more sinister ones that hid in the shadows, waiting in the dark alleys to snatch their prey up. A wandering, young thing, leaving a club after getting a little too drunk would be fair game to these rapists, murderers and common thieves.
Gabriel would never have come down this way this late at night before he became a killer himself. Even if he had been so bold as to travel here after dark, Gabriel was never late coming home. Always on time, usually before the sunset, he was a good little choirboy. That way his mother wouldn't worry about him. Not that she did. She would rather her son be out on the town, taking in the sights like some rich socialite and having late night business dinners with his important colleagues. Or whatever stupid daydream she had come up with that week.
Compelled to take the road less traveled, he now knew the joy taking human life brought. He could empathize with the evil out there in the corners of the city; he belonged to it. Amongst the monsters of the streets and those that hid, awaiting their victims in darkened alleyways, Sylar felt right at home. Whatever wanted to go bump in the night, he was ready for the nice distraction it would bring.
He wouldn't have to wait long. Sylar could feel someone following him down the darkened street, though they didn't feel ready to announce themselves just yet. He knew this stalking was all part of the job of being a monster; they needed to size their prey up first. They were in for a very unpleasant evening when they moved on to the next step and decided to strike.
He would hold back on his powers until then. Maybe let them think he was scared, a lone watchmaker in the bad part of the city, helpless except for the power of his telekinesis. Then they would hurt like they'd never felt pain before, screaming as he ripped them apart and shredded them to pieces. After all, Claire never said he couldn't kill in self-defense.
Eventually, the feeling of being watched stopped and Sylar thought they might have given up. He laughed, wondering what had scared them off so easily. He never would have let a victim go that quickly. He turned a corner and saw a man in an expensive wool suit, standing on the opposite side of the street.
He didn't belong there, with his fine taste in clothes and his big shot mannerisms. He didn't look afraid to be there though, as if all the dangers of this part of the city and the creeps that walked these streets didn't bother him. He seemed absorbed in the conversation he was having on his cell phone but every so often he would look up at Sylar. They sized each other up and Sylar knew it was this man who had been following him.
“He's spotted me. Send the van.”
The man spoke in hushed tones, covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke. Sylar's superhearing still picked up on it, alerting him to the danger and the need for fight or flight. Within sheer seconds, a black van made a right turn onto the street, speeding down the street towards the both of them.
Primatech.
Sylar stopped and watched as the man in the business suit stopped to signal to them, pointing towards him. He saw the man's mouth move but couldn't hear what he said against the murmuring of the van's engine.
Thinking quickly, Sylar reached out for the first large object he saw and attempted to hurl it at the van with his mind. He grabbed at the metal lamppost but couldn't make the connection in his mind. Pointing to the lamppost one last time, Sylar still couldn't budge it. His power was gone and his options were running out. “Shit! Not now!”
Without thinking about anything but escape, Sylar took off running down the street, taking a right down the first crossroad he approached. When he got a few blocks down, he leaned his back against the brick wall of a building, catching his breath and feeling like a coward. They made him run. They actually made him run. He punched the brick with his fist until his knuckles started bleeding, before realizing that it wasn't making him any less angry.
It didn't take too long for the van to spot him again and although he didn't want to run, Sylar couldn't think of any other alternative. He wouldn't be locked up again, poked and prodded while four years of his life went up in smoke, four years of his life he would never get back again. The past haunted him, what they did to him kept coming back in vivid colors. They weren't going to catch him again just so they could stick needles in him again, run their tests and see what made him tick. He couldn't let that happen again.
He couldn't outrun the van though. He crossed another street, noticing an taxi that had its off-duty light on. He stood in the middle of the road, waving the taxi down while Primatech caught up with him. The taxi honked its horn angrily but Sylar stood there, palms out to stop it. The taxi only zoomed around him, leaving him in its dust.
“Son of a bitch!” Sylar screamed out at the passing car. He just wanted a ride, back to the hotel so he could get Claire and get out of this city. As he saw the van nearing him, Sylar wasn't sure he would be able to live past this night. He wouldn't get to tell Claire the good news and see her face light up, maybe get a smile for all his hard work. That was just unacceptable.
He backed up as the van caught him in its headlights. It parked on the road and its doors opened, releasing a group of army soldiers, each one carrying their own weapon. Sylar spun around, noticing a subway entrance not too far down the block and made a break for it. He only hoped a train would be along soon.
“Gabriel Gray, stop where you are. My name is Prescott. I'm here to escort you back to the company, where you belong.” A man called out to him. It sounded like the same one who had made the phone call earlier. He was so close, Sylar could hear him cocking back his gun and feel it aimed for his head. “Don't make us use force. You won't enjoy that very much, I can assure you.”
This did nothing to deter Sylar from thoughts of escape. The man was wrong. He didn't belong to Primatech. How could anyone belong in a ten-by-ten fish tank, never seeing sunlight, while those suits and scientists took careful, measured notes about everything their good little guinea pigs did? It was absurd and he would rather die than go back.
He kept running, taking the stairs two at a time, until he came across a gate barring the entrance of the subway platform. A sign hung across the bars of the gate. 'Closed for Repairs,' it read, mocking him. Sylar could hear the small army of Primatech marching down the stairs after him, led by Prescott and an unwavering conviction. He was blocked in there with no way out, but he still refused to give up.
He wrapped his hands tightly around the gate, rattling it against the walls with so much force that his fingers hurt. It wouldn't move. It was solid, stuck there, trapping him in a nice little cage. Already, he was in a cage and it was one that he had run into himself, too. “Son of a bitch, I'm going to fucking destroy the person who decided to put this here. I'll rip their body in two.. massacre every last one of their family members..”
“You'll do nothing of the sort. Once you're carted off to Primatech, the world will be safe from you again.” Prescott spoke, but did not step forward to claim his captive just yet. He was enjoying this moment, watching his future victim realize that he'd run out of hope. Sylar used to love that feeling, back when he was the one in charge.
Sylar did his best to ignore him and raged at his confines. He kicked the gate, punched it, body-slammed it and as a last ditch effort, attempted to use his telekinesis to remove it from his path. Nothing worked. Without his powers, he wasn't much of a threat to anyone or anything, not even this simple metal gate that served no purpose but to block him inside with the enemy. He was useless.
Sylar put his fingers through the gate again, his body sagging against the cool metal. Resting his head on his forearm, he looked out over the subway platform and the track where he hoped for the train to arrive. It wouldn't now. His plans were cut short, even though he was so close. So very close.
He could sense them behind him, a dozen or more Primatech employees, all aiming their weapons at him, readying to take him back to hell on earth. This was it; Sylar had run as far as he could, there was no place left for him to go. His voice was low, a barely audible whisper. It betrayed the courage his words meant to take on. “I'm not afraid of you.”
“No,” Prescott replied. He spoke with so much disdain it seemed to leak out of his voice, dirtying the ground. “I suspect you wouldn't be. Fear is an emotion, one only real humans can feel. Freaks like you wouldn't understand things like that, would they? Now turn around, nice and slow and put your hands in the air.”
Sylar raised his hands, taking a slow breath before greeting the man who was going to take him back. This was the ambush he had feared was coming ever since leaving the compound and running away with Claire. He thought of Claire, of how Primatech beat her down and nearly broke her spirit. He could be strong for her sake. He wouldn't let these people break him, not again. He cocked his head to the side, “I suppose you want a prize for capturing me. Are you going to get a nice little gold star next to your name at work? Some big, fat promotion?”
“The reward is in the work.” The man pointed his taser gun at Sylar, clicking the setting up to the highest level. “And this is just another day at the office.”
Before Sylar could reply, the gun went off, sending a bolt of white searing-hot energy into his stomach. He fell backwards, colliding with the gate before collapsing to his knees. His hands clutched his side where the taser bolt hit. There were no singe marks but as he coughed, little droplets of blood fell from his mouth and onto the pavement around him. Catching his breath, Sylar mumbled through the pain, “Bastard.”
Prescott hovered above him, an unyielding presence through the pain. He held the taser gun at point blank range as Sylar rolled over onto his back, starring up helplessly. As the man pulled the trigger of his gun and sent another bolt of energy through him, Sylar couldn't help but think that this was how turtles died. Poor, little insignificant turtles. On their backs, unable to move.
Luckily, he blacked out before the pain coursing through his body could register in his mind. The blackness overtook him. He was in Primatech's custody once again.
..to be continued..