2009-08-10 12:15![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacters: Sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: G
Word Count: 308
Prompt: 25/100 #20 Colorless![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
100heroesfics
How did we get so mean?
How do we just move on?
How do you feel in the morning when it comes and every thing's undone? -- Mean![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Notes: This was the start of a role play witheden_sarah_m that you can read here. In the cell at Primatech after Homecoming.
Everything hurts. My mouth tastes like the inside of a cat box, a very dirty cat box. There are so many drugs flowing through my veins that I can barely remember how I got here. I’m in a cage, on display, every few minutes one of them comes back to poke and prod at me.
“Blood sample, Chekov, skin sample, Chekov… if this keeps up, I’m going to run out of samples…” I fall into hysterical laughter as I replay the classic Star Trek episode in my head. The Deadly Years was a favorite of mine.
They pull another trio of blood filled vials from my arm. They even cut off my hair. I don’t know what they wanted with it, other than to make it easier to shove that thing into my skull. “Leave me alone…”
I want to die. I want to kill.
Eyes. There are eyes on me. I look through the heavy reinforced glass of the window and I see her, the skinny little bitch that lived next door to Chandra Suresh. She’s the reason I’m here. That tasty little ability of hers that put me to sleep like a rabid dog, and I can’t wait to make mine.
I can’t do anything though. Not yet. The drugs and the torture have made it impossible to focus. Without focus I’m just like everyone else a nobody in a box. The cold of the concrete floor is creeping into my bones; they haven’t given me a blanket. My feet are bare, I should be surprised I have scrubs on.
“What do you want?” I look up at her from the spot on the floor. I’m too weak to roll over let alone sit up. “Come to see if the monkey’s going to fling his shit on the walls? I don’t even know your name.”
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: G
Word Count: 308
Prompt: 25/100 #20 Colorless
100heroesfics How did we get so mean?
How do we just move on?
How do you feel in the morning when it comes and every thing's undone? -- Mean
scifi_musesNotes: This was the start of a role play with
eden_sarah_m that you can read here. In the cell at Primatech after Homecoming. Everything hurts. My mouth tastes like the inside of a cat box, a very dirty cat box. There are so many drugs flowing through my veins that I can barely remember how I got here. I’m in a cage, on display, every few minutes one of them comes back to poke and prod at me.
“Blood sample, Chekov, skin sample, Chekov… if this keeps up, I’m going to run out of samples…” I fall into hysterical laughter as I replay the classic Star Trek episode in my head. The Deadly Years was a favorite of mine.
They pull another trio of blood filled vials from my arm. They even cut off my hair. I don’t know what they wanted with it, other than to make it easier to shove that thing into my skull. “Leave me alone…”
I want to die. I want to kill.
Eyes. There are eyes on me. I look through the heavy reinforced glass of the window and I see her, the skinny little bitch that lived next door to Chandra Suresh. She’s the reason I’m here. That tasty little ability of hers that put me to sleep like a rabid dog, and I can’t wait to make mine.
I can’t do anything though. Not yet. The drugs and the torture have made it impossible to focus. Without focus I’m just like everyone else a nobody in a box. The cold of the concrete floor is creeping into my bones; they haven’t given me a blanket. My feet are bare, I should be surprised I have scrubs on.
“What do you want?” I look up at her from the spot on the floor. I’m too weak to roll over let alone sit up. “Come to see if the monkey’s going to fling his shit on the walls? I don’t even know your name.”
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