![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Character: Sylar, Company agents
Genre: Gen
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1000
Rating: NC17 - Graphic Gore
Prompt: 080. Can’t take a joke.. 78/100![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_fairytales
Notes: Told from the prey's point of view.
His feet scrambled over the litter strewn floor of the hallway as he tried to get traction. Not for the first time he wondered why the Company insisted that they wear suits and dress shoes for this kind of work. He’d feel a hell of a lot better with a pair of track shoes and a grenade launcher. Agent Little made for a gaping hole in the crumbling drywall of the old hotel. A rusty nail grabbed the edge of his sports jacket, tearing the cheap wool suit and a few inches of his flesh as well. He cried out in pain as he fought free. Time seemed to stand still as he fought to get free from the nail’s grip, and he was sure that Sylar had found him.
Little took a trio of deep breaths while he tried to find his center. He couldn’t use his ability if he was afraid, and right now he was very afraid. He knew that if he didn’t calm down that he’d stop being invisible or as invisible as he got. He was a chameleon. He could blend into the scenery if he held still and stayed calm. But every time he thought he was safe, he’d hear the serial killer’s laugh. Little wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was in the middle of a game of cat and mouse, and he wasn’t the one waiting for a bowl of cream or some catnip when it was over. He was going to die, and he knew it.
He paused in the darkness, pressing his back against a moldering mattress. Shafts of moonlight sent of white light into the room, but he found no comfort in them. His only chance to be safe was to find a place to hide, a place where Sylar wouldn’t look.
“You’re not doing a very good job of finding me.” He heard Sylar calling out from the next room. “This is getting boring. Maybe I should be it for awhile? I killed an invisible man before. It was easy. You’re not even making this interesting.”
Sylar had been it since he’d been separated from his partner. Their headsets were dead, and he had a sinking feeling that so was his partner. It was one of us; one of them, and so far the special didn’t think he was doing well at all. He fought to swallow to moisten his arid mouth before he crept around the end of the bed.
“Jesus Christ!” Little yelped when his eyes met those of his partner’s. Gerald’s pale blue eyes were almost white as they stared at eternity from the wrong side of his body. Sylar had twisted his neck all the way around, and then left him to grow cold.
“You shouldn’t say that,” Sylar said, close enough that Little felt his warm breath and stubble on the side of his face. The agent squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to play the if I can’t see you, you can’t see me game. “Unless you meant it as a prayer.”
“Oh god.” Little’s gun flew out of his hand before he had a firm grip on it from the force of Sylar’s telekinesis. He shrank back against the bed and his partner’s corpse and trembled in fear while warm urine soaked his pants.
“Did you ever wonder why they sent the two of you after me?” Sylar asked as he leaned against the window. He was silhouetted in black from the light of the moon shining behind him. “It’s a wonder that none of you have figured it out yet. I mean seriously how much do they pay you?”
“I do….don’t know,” Little stammered while he wished he was anyplace but here.
“You don’t know how much they pay you? I hope you at least get dental for this.”
“I don’t know why they sent me,” Little’s voice cracked.
“You wanted to be a hero, but all you are is an appetizer. They sent you because you might get lucky.” Sylar raised his hand and pinned the squirming Company agent in place. “Someday one of you idiots might manage to put a bullet in my brain at just the right angle, but until then you’re food.”
Little opened his mouth. He wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Sylar that they were there to stop him because it was the right thing to do, but nothing would come out but a squeak.
“They send pissant specials like you after me, because they’re afraid to send anyone with a real power. Because they know that chances are I’d beat them and take their power too.” He used his telekinesis to loosen Little’s tie and then grinned as he started the incision in his forehead. “Sooner or later, I’m going to get tired of waiting for them to send the big guns, and I’ll go hunting for them first. And your little power will really help me out with that. Thank you.”
Pain made Little scream as the line of telekinesis drilled into his skull. Blood ran from his forehead and into his eyes, blinding him almost instantly. He shrieked as the burning continued. It was taking too long to die. But Sylar wasn’t cutting deeply enough to cause brain damage. There was another sudden pain and the horrific sound of his skull being pried open, and he whimpered when he heard his skullcap hit the floor nearby.
The nerves that ran over his skin fired up and down his arms. It felt like a static charge like it did when he turned his power on. He tried to beg, but his jaw wouldn’t move anymore. He was paralyzed from the damage being done to his brain, but it wasn’t until Sylar’s fingers were deep in his brain that his life faded away.
Genre: Gen
Author:
thewatchmakerFandom: Heroes
Word count: 1000
Rating: NC17 - Graphic Gore
Prompt: 080. Can’t take a joke.. 78/100
100_fairytalesNotes: Told from the prey's point of view.
His feet scrambled over the litter strewn floor of the hallway as he tried to get traction. Not for the first time he wondered why the Company insisted that they wear suits and dress shoes for this kind of work. He’d feel a hell of a lot better with a pair of track shoes and a grenade launcher. Agent Little made for a gaping hole in the crumbling drywall of the old hotel. A rusty nail grabbed the edge of his sports jacket, tearing the cheap wool suit and a few inches of his flesh as well. He cried out in pain as he fought free. Time seemed to stand still as he fought to get free from the nail’s grip, and he was sure that Sylar had found him.
Little took a trio of deep breaths while he tried to find his center. He couldn’t use his ability if he was afraid, and right now he was very afraid. He knew that if he didn’t calm down that he’d stop being invisible or as invisible as he got. He was a chameleon. He could blend into the scenery if he held still and stayed calm. But every time he thought he was safe, he’d hear the serial killer’s laugh. Little wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was in the middle of a game of cat and mouse, and he wasn’t the one waiting for a bowl of cream or some catnip when it was over. He was going to die, and he knew it.
He paused in the darkness, pressing his back against a moldering mattress. Shafts of moonlight sent of white light into the room, but he found no comfort in them. His only chance to be safe was to find a place to hide, a place where Sylar wouldn’t look.
“You’re not doing a very good job of finding me.” He heard Sylar calling out from the next room. “This is getting boring. Maybe I should be it for awhile? I killed an invisible man before. It was easy. You’re not even making this interesting.”
Sylar had been it since he’d been separated from his partner. Their headsets were dead, and he had a sinking feeling that so was his partner. It was one of us; one of them, and so far the special didn’t think he was doing well at all. He fought to swallow to moisten his arid mouth before he crept around the end of the bed.
“Jesus Christ!” Little yelped when his eyes met those of his partner’s. Gerald’s pale blue eyes were almost white as they stared at eternity from the wrong side of his body. Sylar had twisted his neck all the way around, and then left him to grow cold.
“You shouldn’t say that,” Sylar said, close enough that Little felt his warm breath and stubble on the side of his face. The agent squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to play the if I can’t see you, you can’t see me game. “Unless you meant it as a prayer.”
“Oh god.” Little’s gun flew out of his hand before he had a firm grip on it from the force of Sylar’s telekinesis. He shrank back against the bed and his partner’s corpse and trembled in fear while warm urine soaked his pants.
“Did you ever wonder why they sent the two of you after me?” Sylar asked as he leaned against the window. He was silhouetted in black from the light of the moon shining behind him. “It’s a wonder that none of you have figured it out yet. I mean seriously how much do they pay you?”
“I do….don’t know,” Little stammered while he wished he was anyplace but here.
“You don’t know how much they pay you? I hope you at least get dental for this.”
“I don’t know why they sent me,” Little’s voice cracked.
“You wanted to be a hero, but all you are is an appetizer. They sent you because you might get lucky.” Sylar raised his hand and pinned the squirming Company agent in place. “Someday one of you idiots might manage to put a bullet in my brain at just the right angle, but until then you’re food.”
Little opened his mouth. He wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Sylar that they were there to stop him because it was the right thing to do, but nothing would come out but a squeak.
“They send pissant specials like you after me, because they’re afraid to send anyone with a real power. Because they know that chances are I’d beat them and take their power too.” He used his telekinesis to loosen Little’s tie and then grinned as he started the incision in his forehead. “Sooner or later, I’m going to get tired of waiting for them to send the big guns, and I’ll go hunting for them first. And your little power will really help me out with that. Thank you.”
Pain made Little scream as the line of telekinesis drilled into his skull. Blood ran from his forehead and into his eyes, blinding him almost instantly. He shrieked as the burning continued. It was taking too long to die. But Sylar wasn’t cutting deeply enough to cause brain damage. There was another sudden pain and the horrific sound of his skull being pried open, and he whimpered when he heard his skullcap hit the floor nearby.
The nerves that ran over his skin fired up and down his arms. It felt like a static charge like it did when he turned his power on. He tried to beg, but his jaw wouldn’t move anymore. He was paralyzed from the damage being done to his brain, but it wasn’t until Sylar’s fingers were deep in his brain that his life faded away.
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Date: 2011-09-10 06:17 am (UTC)From:no subject
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