Sylar - Gabriel Gray

Character: Sylar, Mohinder and Dale Smithers
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 805
Rating: PG - Sylar swears a lot
Prompt: #50 Mistaken Identity for 100_fairytales
Ya Ya: Listen to the rhythm. Don't be scared. for scifi_muses
Notes: Missing scene from Unexpected.
Written for keep_them_safe

( STFU Mohinder )

100 Fairytales Table

Character: Sylar, mentions of Virginia and Peter
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 604
Rating: G (I know - it's a miracle)
Prompt: #12 The Youth Transformed for 100_fairytales
Black Lodge for scifi_muses
Notes: After the Wall

( I am the witness to your demise... )

100 Fairytales Table

Character: Sylar, Noah, Eden
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 433
Rating: PG
Prompt: Learning to fear men for 100_fairytales
Holden: The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping. for scifi_muses
Notes: Missing scene for - Homecoming

It was the buzz of the hair clippers that registered first in my addled brain. I was strapped down on a gurney, too many glaring florescent lights blazed down at me. I couldn’t move an inch, and a quartet of doctors in bright white scrubs surrounded me. My mouth was still filled with the taste of blood and cotton, and my body hurt.

“Take him apart if you have to, but do not let him use his abilities.” I didn’t recognize the man with the horned rim glasses. His blue eyes were filled with steel and ice when he looked at me. It wasn’t the cool, detached gaze the doctors were giving me. This man hated me, and I had no idea why. He wanted me to suffer, and he would enjoy watching.

“We know what we’re doing, Bennet,” One of them said over his shoulder as he shoved a needle into my arm, and I felt the burning cold of something enter my bloodstream. I wanted to ask what it was, but I couldn’t make my mouth work. I couldn’t make anything work, and for the first time since I killed Brian, I was afraid. They were going to cut me up like a fucking frog. “He’s not the first we’ve dealt with.”

“He’s the first like him you’ve handled. This thing is a monster, and if I had my way, we’d be doing an autopsy to understand him not saving his life.” I could taste his hate. Christ what the fuck did I do to this prick?

“His injuries aren’t as bad as they should be,” Another one said, his face hidden behind a surgical mask. “How high did he fall from?”

“High enough that most of the bones in his body should be broken.” That voice I knew. It was her, the little dark haired pixie who made me sleep. I wanted that power, but then I wanted them all.

The hair clippers were shut off, and then I heard the sound of a Dremel drill. I knew the sound well. I had one in the shop for burnishing and cleaning the edges of the pieces I made. It was the same model most dentists used to drill out cavities.

Fear made me cringe. Were these bastards going to drill my teeth like the fucking Marathon Man? Fuck. I tried to move, but barely managed to squirm on the gurney. Someone or something was blocking my power. I was helpless, and I was terrified.

Then they started drilling into the back of my skull, and the world faded to black.

100 Fairytales Table

Character: Sylar, Parkman, BAU members Reid and Morgan
Fandom: Heroes and Criminal Minds
Word count: 1817
Rating: R mentions of graphic violence
Prompt: Giles: Our task now is to determine what sort of killer we are dealing with. Quite clearly, we're looking for a depraved, sadistic animal. scifi_muses
Part 2 of ?

Part One
( Part Two )

Character: Sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 382
Rating: PG for swearing and meaness
Prompt: Now I waste it, faked it, ate it, now i hate it. - Redundant for scifi_muses
Notes: Letter to Angela after the Fifth Stage, season 4 Heroes

Dear Ma Angela,

How about that pie you brought over to Peter’s for Thanksgiving? It was pretty good. Homemade is better, but I realize that Evil Stepmonsters, which is how I think of you now, don’t bake for their children. They might bake their children, but they don’t do nice things for them.

I know you’re going through hell right now. Tell me, please. How long ago did you know I was going to kill Nathan? Long enough that you fed me Bridget on purpose, so I’d have her ability and be able to read Nathan’s memories? Did you play the mommy card with me because of it too, so I’d have a soft spot in my black little heart that belonged to you? I know you’ll never tell me the truth if I asked, and with my lie detection power, I’d be puking by the time you were done spreading your bullshit.

My favorite part in all of this was the look on Peter’s face when I became me again at dinner. It was priceless. I am a bit surprised that the Italian Eagle Scout jumped up to protect you after what you did to him. You made Peter a fucking patsy. He had a right to know that his brother was gone, and guess what, Bitch. The Nathan parts of me hate you for lying to Peter.

That’s right, Angela, Nathan hates you for making Peter think I was him. Hope that gives you comfort at night. You lost Nathan twice. Once when I killed him, and then you lost him again because you abused Peter. It’s a given that I hate you. You are after all the most evil creature to ever live, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Peter pulls his head out of his bleeding heart and sees you for what you are.

He was willing to shoot Arthur, Angela. Pretty soon I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he decides you’re not worthy of his love. I bet you had a dream about that by now too. Then Angela, Mother of Harpies, you will find out what it’s like to be alone in this world just like I am.

Keep my seat warm for me in Hell. I’ll be awhile.

Sincerely,
Sylar

The Letter Blog

Character: Sylar and Gabe
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 655
Rating: PG
Prompt: Marion: Well, Jones, at least you haven't forgotten how to show a lady a good time. for scifi_muses
Verse: rp_shadesofgray and a bit of Twitterverse thrown in. graylikeme is featured with love as always.

It was a little too warm in the diner, the sun shining directly across our table and glinting off of the silverware and chrome napkin holder. Outside I could see fat lazy bees flying around a bed of marigolds and daisies. It was a perfect lazy summer day in the middle of some little town whose name I hadn’t bothered to remember.

“Are you bored, Sylar?” Gabriel asked from his side of the booth as he wiped his hands clean after eating the last of his French fries. He smiled as Bonny, the waitress, came over with our dessert and cleared the table. “That pie is a work of art.”

He was right. It was beautiful. His was filled with golden slices of fresh peaches, while mine was stuffed with plump cherries fresh from a can of pie filling. The ice cream scoops were already starting to drip down the sides from the warmth of the pie, and I knew the sunlight would turn them into sludge soon.

“Not bored.” No I wasn’t bored. I was nervous. It’d been a long time since anyone had tried to bag and tag us, but I had that itchy feeling along the back of my neck. At home in New York I wasn’t worried about it, but out here in the middle of wherever we were the old instincts were kicking in. It probably didn’t help that all roadside diners looked alike, and this one reminded me of the one where Luke and I had to deal with unwelcome visitors.

“They aren’t after you anymore,” Gabe pointed out with his fork before taking his first bite. His dark eyes closed, and I was waiting to hear him make an orgasmic sound from the look on his face. “We won, remember?”

“I know.” I took a blob of ice cream and pie, and had my own moment of nirvana. “But I feel like we’re being watched.”

“You’re always paranoid,” he pointed out, giving me the smug I know you better than anyone look.

“Better to be paranoid than locked up,” was my answer. “But I will try to relax. OK?”

“OK. There are more shops two towns down the highway on my list. We should be able to hit them both before sundown the way you drive.” Then he let out a snort. “We could get to them and another two towns the way you drive.”

“I’m an excellent driver, Gabe.”

“You have a led foot. I’m surprised the car still has paint.”

“You’re just upset because I won’t let you drive her again.” He’d scared me enough when I’d let him drive on the second day of our trip.

“You’re the one who wanted me to drive. You keep insisting that I’ll know how because you do.” He folded his arms across his chest, glowering at me. “I told you I can’t drive.”

“And I told you…”

“Is that your car, son?” We both looked up started at the shape looming over the table. The sun sparkling on his badge was only a momentary distraction from the gun at his hip. “The Mustang with the New York plates?”

I dropped my fork, turning in the booth ready to send the guy sailing over the counter and into the deep fryer with telekinesis if he made a move. Gabe and I locked eyes, and I could see him ready to do the same thing to his partner who was ambling over.

“Yeah that’s my car. Is there a problem?” I wanted to get up, but the cop was blocking my end of the booth. There were a lot of innocent people in the diner too, and I wasn’t in the mood to hurt anyone really. “Do you need to see my license and registration?”

“Oh no, my partner and I were arguing about what year it is. Is it a ’68 or a ’69, and is it all original?”

Character: Sylar, Future Peter and Noah Gray
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1075
Rating: R - violence and swearing
Prompt: Picture for scifi_muses
Notes: Set before I am Become Death. This is how Sylar finds Noah. Sorry in my version he is not Noah's father by blood.

( I didn't ask for this... )

Character: Sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 312
Rating: PG
Prompt:Aeryn Sun: She gives me a woody. Woody. It's a human saying. I've heard you say it often. When you don't trust someone or they make you nervous, they give you...
John Crichton: Willies. She gives you the willies. scifi_muses
Notes: Letter Blog entry - worked as a post on the Muses too.
Verse: Curiosity Kills - where Sylar is locked up powerless after the fight at Kirby Plaza, and Scully is his doctor.

Dear Scully,

You’re as close to a friend as I’ve got in this place, internet or otherwise. You’re the only person who comes to see me. You’re the only one who cared when I was dying, and you bring me books. Thank god you bring me books. I love you for that. I really do.

Sure it’s a pain in the ass to play chess with you on the other side of the glass, but I still look forward to the sound of your heels on the tiles when you visit. I miss being whole, having my abilities, but with you talking to me, I’m keeping my sanity in this dank cell.

Would you mind telling Bennet that this toilet paper has woodchips in it? Christ it’s like using sandpaper, but I should be glad they gave me a roll a week, right? For awhile there I thought I would have to get you to bring me a copy of Twilight, so I could use the pages.

I can’t wait to get out of here to meet you in the flesh, Scully. I know we touched when you took care of my wound, but I was so out of it that it didn’t matter. But I’m better now, and I want to touch your hand.

I have a little crush on you, you know.

When I’m free, I promise that I won’t hurt you or Mulder. Unless Mulder tries to hurt me first, in which case, all bets are off. I know you understand that. I can only curb my baser instincts for so long after all. Tiger, stripes…. Not changing… you get it.

I’ve finally been able to figure out the cocktail they’re giving me in my food and water to curtail my abilities. I’m working on adapting my brain to neutralize them. I’ll be seeing you soon.

Your friend,
Sylar

For 1breath

The Letter Blog

Character: Sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 442
Rating: PG for implied violence and some swearing
Prompt: Desmond: Ah good old subject sixteen. He repainted my room you know... with his blood. scifi_muses
Notes: Letter Blog entry - worked as a post on the Muses too.

Dear Whatever the Fuck Your Name is,

I wanted to let you know that it’s nothing personal. I don’t know your name. You’ve never done anything to insult nor injure me or mine. You’ve simply got something I want. As I follow you from the chemistry building to the parking lot, I can hear you humming along with your iPod, and I wonder if you even know that you’re special.

It’s early, the sun’s just hitting the horizon, and in a normal world, it’d be much too early for someone like me to hunt and kill. Your average serial killer would wait for the cover of darkness, but I’m anything but average. I also don’t feel like following you home. I’m not in the mood for a long hunt. I’m in the mood for want, take and make mine what is yours.

So like I said before, it’s not personal. No hard feelings. You won’t have to worry about me going after your roommates or your family. Unless of course they’re special, in which case all bets are off, because if they are, what they have will be mine someday too.

No, don’t go into the Student Union. Go to the parking lot. I don’t want to sit around while you connect with friends at the Starbucks or whatever the hell you’re going to do there.

Fuck. Could you be anymore inconsiderate? I have places to go, other people to kill you know.

Fine. Whatever. I can get some tea and a cookie or two. I’ll watch you, and if I’m lucky you’ll do something special, so I can find out what it is you do.

Oh great three of your little friends. I swear to God if they go home with you, and I have to watch you doing some sorority shit all night until you go to bed in your Hello Kitty pajamas to kill you, I won’t make it pleasant.

And could you drink your coffee any slower?

You are really starting to piss me off.

Finally, you’re ready to go. Wasn’t it nice of me to hold the door open for you? I want to thank you for offering to show me the quickest way to get to the library, and for not screaming too loud when I pinned you to the side of that god awful sculpture they have next to the art building. The blood splatter was a nice improvement if you want my opinion.

Thanks for the new power, Heather. I’ll be sure to leave your ID tucked in your bright pink backpack so they can identify you when they find your body.

Sincerely,

Sylar

The Letter Blog

Character: Sylar and Gabriel
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 393
Rating: G
Prompt: Mallory: You make everyday feel like kindergarten. for scifi_muses
Notes: Letter Blog entry - worked as a post on the Muses too.

Dear Gabe,

I wanted to share with you some of my favorite memories of growing up with you. There were the bunkbeds of course, where we’d trade off every other month who got to sleep on the top bunk. Keeping that a secret from mom was so much fun. Keeping any secret from mom was an accomplishment worthy of high praise.

I remember slugging Santa Claus when he made you cry at Macy’s. No one makes my brother cry, which I haven’t out grown apparently because I still want to punch Elle’s lights out. Yeah I know, you know I’d rather kill her for hurting you, but I let her live because you asked me to.

Trick or Treating as Superman and Batman was great too except when I tripped on my cape and fell down the steps. You were the only one who didn’t laugh at me, and you helped me find my glasses. When you shared your candy with me because mine ended up on the floor I knew I had the best brother of all time.

There are so many times in my childhood when I pretended I had a twin, and I love putting you into those memories now. For me, the longer we are together, the more real they become. If we can come from alternate timelines and be together now, there’s no reason we can’t say we did those things growing up.

But hands down, little brother, I am a much better driver than you. I can’t believe you failed your driving test. I do need to teach you to drive. I’ll do that when we’re on our road trip this month. Yes, I’ll let you drive the Mustang. I trust you with her as I trust you with my heart and soul.

It used to bother me that you call me ‘Brother’ instead of Sylar, but I think I understand that now. A brother is something we both wanted more than anything, and that makes it a precious thing. I also think you say it the way Westley told Buttercup, ‘as you wish’.

Esme is doing something she shouldn’t, so I’m going to send this now. I hope you remember to check your email at the Shop. I know how you get when you’re working too hard.

As you wish, little brother, as you wish.

Sylar

For graylikeme

The Letter Blog