tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; Monday, during the Handcuff Curse
Rating; Most definitely R for violence and gore.
Characters; Sylar (

makes_you_tick) and Peter Petrelli (

powersponge)
Summary; Sylar and Peter don't play well together, and forcing them to stay in the same room? Well, that's just a bad idea.
Log;

One of the first things Sylar did when he got settled in his new place was to go out and get a few clocks, salvage from a random shop near the square. Fixing things helped him focus, and he definitely needed to focus now. This was a whole new world, with new opportunities just waiting for him. He had to come up with a basic plan to go about collecting what he'd need.

The clocks were fixed within an hour, and he had set one in each room. They were perfectly synchronized with that wonderful background pulse of the City.

He felt settled. He was meant to come here, he decided. It was just a part of his progression. He slept more peacefully than he had in a long time.

It was the quiet that woke him, really. He could still hear the clocks in each of the rooms, yes, but the thrum behind them, the one that went to his core- it was absent. He rolled, groaning slightly with annoyance, and tried to get back to sleep.

But there was another new thing- a heartbeat, right beside him. His eyes shot open.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

There was one thing about the city that unsettled him slightly, and it was the simple fact that anyone from his world could appear or disappear at any given moment. Molly had been staying under his protection for a while now, her power coming in handy often. They had been relieved when she said she could not find the 'boogeyman' in the city, of course, this was before Sylar had arrived.

Peter shifted slightly, half awake. He could feel a presence beside him, and something cold around his wrist. His own eyes shooting open now, he couldn't believe what he saw beside him.

The reaction was immediate. Everything in the room shook as Sylar telekinetically pushed Peter away from him and towards a wall.

Damn him, he was supposed to have exploded. He should be dead and gone, several times over now. And he certainly shouldn't be here, in this City, in Sylar's place.

There was such a burst of rage that he didn't notice he was being pulled out of the bed too until they had both almost hit the wall. He managed to stop them both a couple inches away. They hung in midair while Sylar glared at Peter. "Petrelli."

He hadn't noticed the chain before, but it should've snapped with the force, not taken Sylar along.

To say something was wrong here was a severe understatement.

Before he knew it, he was in the air. Impossible. He had SEEN Hiro stab this man. Had he regenerated? Teleported here using some strange new power he had stolen? Found Peter in his sleep and kidnapped him? Why was he kept alive?

A curse, please let him be hallucinating; please let this be a curse... Peter's mind was racing.

His first instinct was to run, but how could he when he was chained to the thing he was running from. He sat still, wide eyed, cautious.

"You--" he gulped, "...what do you want?"

He tried to break the chain; it pulled taught, even sparked where the links clacked together. But it didn't break. Sylar frowned deeper and let go of his hold on the both of them. He landed with a cat's grace.

He'd been trying to work it out, but Peter's question invoked another glare from him. "What do I want?" He broke into a laugh. He's calmed down, almost instantly. "I already got what I wanted. You, destroying everything you tried to protect. You, paving the way for me. Although apparently, that's not the case."

His voice turned cold, even as he froze the chains, dropping them to a temperature that should let them shatter. "What are you doing here?"

Peter hit the ground with a thump, but quickly sat up, making sure not to take his eyes off of Sylar.

"Destroying everything?" Peter asked, "What do you mean?" his question was cut off as the chains were frozen, his mind continued to race, "You obviously didn't get everything you wanted if you brought me here," he continued, raising an eyebrow at the frozen steel, "Lost your key?"

This was beginning to give him a headache.

"If I had captured you, do you really think I'd want you attached to me?" Someone else must have done this. He should be cautious until he had a better idea of what was going on.

But he was never a very patient man, not in these matters. "I'd rather have you in pieces. Let's test that regeneration, shall we?" Holding up his hand, he curled fingers under until he was pointing at Peter's left shoulder.

Peter flinched, he knew what that finger meant. Start moving, do something, distract him, he thought. Trying to push Sylar away, he stood quickly to avoid the attack. He couldn't get too far away, considering the handcuffs, but if he moved around enough, maybe he could avoid being hurt? Though it made sense at the time, it would only be so long before Sylar became irritated, and he was sure that man had other tricks up his sleeves.

Sylar didn't really care what of Peter's he cut first. However, the struggling was starting to get annoying. His hand shifted into an open fist and he telekinetically pulled Peter up off the ground by his neck, bringing him up to Sylar's eye level so Peter's feet dangled. Peter flew a few yards back (Sylar following, of course, the chain made sure of that) and finally landed with a hard thump against the wall, his right shoulder colliding hard with the clock hanging there.

The expression on Sylar's face wasn't quite a smile, but the voice certainly sounded pleased. "Well, this seems familiar, doesn't it?"

Stuggling to get free of Sylar's hold, he had tried using some of his own powers. Turning invisible didn't help him, Sylar could assume where Peter was standing from the direction the handcuffs were pulling. Flying wouldn't do him any good, especially not when Sylar had his held telekinetically to a wall.

Familiar...quite. Peter was running out of tricks. At least he could still sort of kick, scream, accomplish the basic struggle.

Sylar looked around the room, and then he really does smile at Peter. The struggling was almost cute. "Well, well, no Mohinder, nothing to hit me with...maybe this will go a little more as planned, hmmm?"

Peter manages to kick Sylar's leg fairly hard, and the smile fades a bit. "I'd always wanted to see how you work. Do you think I'll have to embed something in your brain to keep it from growing back?"

"I'm not one of your clocks!" Peter shouted, continuing to kick. "OR a lab rat!"

He wasn't sure what to do, in the past, when he'd face Sylar by himself, it would never end well. The more he struggled, the less it seemed to matter. Peter's arm began to heat up, in effort to destory the handcuff, but he knew it would be of no use.

"Everything can be taken apart, Peter," Sylar said scornfully, ignoring the kicking. "Broken down into components. Maybe if you understood that, you could have used your abilities correctly."

One hand pinned Peter's neck to the wall, the other pulled back, almost as if readying a punch. Instead he began pointing again. "That's all right. I'll be sure to use them for you."

Sylar knew people come back here after dying- he wondered if Peter would be just the same, afterwards. That would be interesting to see, too.

The screeching noise started as he began to cut. Sylar loved that sound, even better than the crinkling of wrapping paper.

"No--" Peter flinched, trying to hold Sylar back now, with all of his strength. How could he save all of his friends, all of New York, but he couldn't even save himself?

The screeching was all too familiar to Peter, as was the pain that came with it; right across his forehead. His kicking and batting became more frequent, almost uncontrollable as he let out a loud, gurgling scream.

"Oh, yes," he said as he pulled his finger to the side, the screeching becoming louder. The kicking and struggling only made it better, really, because this way it was clear that Peter had nothing he could do to fight him. Wasn't it?

He settled into his work, pausing halfway through the cut to stare at a glass pane. It broke, and a large piece floated to him. Glass in the brain worked before, right? He wondered how long it took them before they pulled it out.

He let the glass twirl in the air above his shoulder as he started cutting again. He wasn't sure if Peter could even see it, but at least it'd be there if he could.

Peter's screaming had only become louder as the pain grew, and his eyes were shut too tight to see the glass. This was the end, he knew it, nothing he was doing could save him, and with this sort of pain and damage done, he couldn't bring himself to using any of his more forcefull powers.
Death, he could see it clearly in his near future, but Peter knew death. Very well, to be exact, he had died 2...3...he lost count of how many times in the past. This would be no different; or would it?

Sylar was certainly interested in finding out. It was too bad that Peter didn't look to see what he had planned, but definitely not entirely necessary.

He finished the cut and pulled the top of the skull off, letting it drop to he floor. The attempted regrowth was nearly immediate- he'd had no idea it would try to fix something so significant that quickly. As Sylar looked to the floating piece of glass, it shot forward and lodged itself deeply into the back of Peter's brain.

There. Now he could get to work. He let Peter's body fall to the floor, then leaned over it. Finally, he was getting what he wanted all along.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only