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Character: Sylar and Arthur Petrelli
Genre: Gen
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 666
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: That music...
Frau Blücher: Yes. It's in your blood - it's in the blood of ALL Frankensteins. It reaches the soul when words are useless for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses Vol3.Week29.
081. Cards fall from the sleeve of the preacher for100_fairytales 51/100
Notes: After Peter's thrown through the window and before Sylar's locked up with Elle, Season Three.
“Well that didn’t go as planned, Gabriel.” Arthur glared at me as we watched Claire and Peter run away. I could taste his disappointment in me. It radiated off of him like a noxious cloud, but I was used to it. He turned away, crossing over to the bar where he poured himself a drink and then on a second thought poured one for me as well. “Peter will be a problem.”
“Peter is powerless,” I said with a smirk as I took the drink from him. “How could he possibly be a problem for either of us? You have all of his powers and yours. I have all of mine. I tend to doubt that little brother will be an issue.”
I took a drink of the scotch. I had no doubt that it was the best that money could buy, but its taste or reputation meant nothing to me. I was a kid from Queens, raised on my mother’s wages and what little money my nearly deadbeat father occasionally sent our way. The fact that it didn’t taste like turpentine was enough for me.
“Peter will run to Angela, and Nathan will get involved.” His fingers tightened on his glass when he mentioned Angela’s name. He hated her so completely. I had to know why.
“Well I’m sure you’ll be able to convince Nathan that it was an accident with Peter. You can blame it on me. I’m sure that’s what mommy will do. It’s always Sylar’s fault.” I raised my glass in a mocking toast and drank some more with a sneer. I couldn’t wait to find out the game he was playing with me. I live to be used, and it was my supposed daddy’s turn to pull my strings and manipulate me.
“I don’t want you to be at war with your brothers, Gabriel.”
Then why did you want me to kill, Peter? His eyes should be as brown as mine considering the amount of bullshit he spouts. An inability to speak the truth must be a Petrelli trait, and apparently Angela picked it up by injection.
He settled down behind his desk, setting his drink to the side and laced his fingers together. He was staring at me. Watching every move I made as I took the seat on the other side of the desk and leaned back. I wondered if he was reading my mind. I would if I had me like this. He had to know I didn’t believe him. Had to know that I was only sitting here like a good dog because I had to know what he was up to.
“Bullshit, Arthur,” I said, as I swirled the ice cubes in my glass. “You want to keep me off balance. You think that if you confuse me enough that I’ll fall for this act. You don’t love me anymore than you love Peter or Nathan.” I chuckled and popped an ice cube into my mouth. “You’re more of a psychopath than I am. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all.”
“I want to understand you, Gabriel, to help you. You’re my son, and yes we are a lot alike. That’s one of the reasons Angela kept you away from me. She knew that together we’d be unstoppable. Nathan, Peter, your mother they got in the way. They didn’t understand. But you understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, Arthur, I believe I do.” I gave him a smile that was as false as the one he flashed me. I had his number. I was a weapon for him. He’d use me and throw me out when he was done with me, but not before he took all of my powers the way he had Peter’s. But that wouldn’t happen with me. It takes a monster to stop a monster. And I’d be damned if I’d let Arthur Petrelli stomp on Tokyo in my place. “So what do you need me to do, dad?”
Genre: Gen
Author:
thewatchmakerFandom: Heroes
Word count: 666
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: That music...
Frau Blücher: Yes. It's in your blood - it's in the blood of ALL Frankensteins. It reaches the soul when words are useless for
scifi_muses Vol3.Week29.081. Cards fall from the sleeve of the preacher for
100_fairytales 51/100Notes: After Peter's thrown through the window and before Sylar's locked up with Elle, Season Three.
“Well that didn’t go as planned, Gabriel.” Arthur glared at me as we watched Claire and Peter run away. I could taste his disappointment in me. It radiated off of him like a noxious cloud, but I was used to it. He turned away, crossing over to the bar where he poured himself a drink and then on a second thought poured one for me as well. “Peter will be a problem.”
“Peter is powerless,” I said with a smirk as I took the drink from him. “How could he possibly be a problem for either of us? You have all of his powers and yours. I have all of mine. I tend to doubt that little brother will be an issue.”
I took a drink of the scotch. I had no doubt that it was the best that money could buy, but its taste or reputation meant nothing to me. I was a kid from Queens, raised on my mother’s wages and what little money my nearly deadbeat father occasionally sent our way. The fact that it didn’t taste like turpentine was enough for me.
“Peter will run to Angela, and Nathan will get involved.” His fingers tightened on his glass when he mentioned Angela’s name. He hated her so completely. I had to know why.
“Well I’m sure you’ll be able to convince Nathan that it was an accident with Peter. You can blame it on me. I’m sure that’s what mommy will do. It’s always Sylar’s fault.” I raised my glass in a mocking toast and drank some more with a sneer. I couldn’t wait to find out the game he was playing with me. I live to be used, and it was my supposed daddy’s turn to pull my strings and manipulate me.
“I don’t want you to be at war with your brothers, Gabriel.”
Then why did you want me to kill, Peter? His eyes should be as brown as mine considering the amount of bullshit he spouts. An inability to speak the truth must be a Petrelli trait, and apparently Angela picked it up by injection.
He settled down behind his desk, setting his drink to the side and laced his fingers together. He was staring at me. Watching every move I made as I took the seat on the other side of the desk and leaned back. I wondered if he was reading my mind. I would if I had me like this. He had to know I didn’t believe him. Had to know that I was only sitting here like a good dog because I had to know what he was up to.
“Bullshit, Arthur,” I said, as I swirled the ice cubes in my glass. “You want to keep me off balance. You think that if you confuse me enough that I’ll fall for this act. You don’t love me anymore than you love Peter or Nathan.” I chuckled and popped an ice cube into my mouth. “You’re more of a psychopath than I am. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all.”
“I want to understand you, Gabriel, to help you. You’re my son, and yes we are a lot alike. That’s one of the reasons Angela kept you away from me. She knew that together we’d be unstoppable. Nathan, Peter, your mother they got in the way. They didn’t understand. But you understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, Arthur, I believe I do.” I gave him a smile that was as false as the one he flashed me. I had his number. I was a weapon for him. He’d use me and throw me out when he was done with me, but not before he took all of my powers the way he had Peter’s. But that wouldn’t happen with me. It takes a monster to stop a monster. And I’d be damned if I’d let Arthur Petrelli stomp on Tokyo in my place. “So what do you need me to do, dad?”
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Date: 2011-02-28 03:33 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 06:16 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 12:16 pm (UTC)From:Well done with this story! You did great!
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Date: 2011-02-28 06:17 pm (UTC)From: