For Chainsaw

[the_brain_man]

Sylar objects to this claim that he has been given a chance. Just where was this so-called "chance", he would like to know? During the flirting, perhaps, or maybe sometime around the bloody kiss?

Of course, what he'd like more is to stop being controlled by this horribly strong-willed man whose name he still doesn't know

Comments

[nowait_letme]

"So what I'd like to know," says Chainsaw thoughtfully, "is how a sweet piece of work like you gets all the way through the academy without my once catching wind of it."

He casually uses Sylar's telekinesis to open doors in front of him as he takes them through to the stairs at the back of his house.

Opulence is a theme.

So is black and purple.

Getting any hints yet, Sylar?

[the_brain_man]

Black and purple.

Purple and black.

Yes, he's getting hints, and he really doesn't like them.

"You obviously weren't paying attention," he growls. But it's a hollow piece of bravado, and he can't quite keep that out of his tone. (He hasn't been controlled since Jasmine. It's impossible not to draw the chilling parallels that he thought he'd driven from his mind years ago.)

[nowait_letme]

"Oh no. I always pay attention."

Down one floor on the wide, ostentatious staircase.

"I'm thinking you and I might just be from alternate universes. Isn't that fun?"

Down another.

"I'll be back, sweetheart," he says when they hit the bottom, three floors down.

He blows Sylar a kiss and silently orders him down the hall to the last door on the left.

[the_brain_man]

...Fucking Milliways.

Purple and black and purple and black and shit, Sylar may not know Chainsaw by face but he certainly knows his reputation. And shit -- even if he could forget, it the memory of trembling in the corner of a darkened apartment would still be with him, lurking under the surface like the dangerous bulk of an iceberg which waits to drown a ship that hasn't kept its defences up. Being in that situation again is simply not an option.

As he opens the door and steps through it, fighting every movement, he has that same dreadful, creeping sense of inevitability that his first sentence instilled.