I can see what makes you tick.

[Continued from here.]

Sylar had never disliked the regeneration ability before. It was so amazingly useful, after all, that even the side effects were sought-after gems. He was thinking right now, though, that he didn’t like it all that much. His nerves continued to be stubbornly on fire, and the sensation of pressure would not stop increasing. Shouldn’t he go into shock soon?

How could all of this have come from one- well, okay, two- bites of delicious cake?

Eventually, the sensations slowed to a stop. He barely recognized the feeling of himself reconstituting (thanks ever so much for that, Peter and Adam) and lay there while it happened. Once he had eyes, and skin, and a proper body again, he realized he was lying face down on cheap carpeting.

A piece of paper was near his face. He pulled himself up enough to read it. It read “A Short History of the Relations Between Poland and Austria-Hungary,” which was about as unhelpful to Sylar as it could possibly be.

With a groan, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, and found himself in some sort of office.

The cheap carpet was a tan color, checkered with faded orange squares. The walls were gray. A door nearby declared it was number “417” in large numbers. Sylar pushed his way to a standing position, finally feeling somewhat whole again.

This really didn’t look like Aperture any longer. The aesthetic was completely different. He didn’t have any idea where he was, but it seemed to be a corporate office. On the weekend. He hoped no one with delicate sensibilities was working this weekend, because he’d lost Peter’s shirt on the trip over.

Well, there was nothing to be done about that for now. He began to explore, hoping to get his bearings and find something useful.

When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his le- wait. Wait a minute. You’re not Stanley. What did you do with Stanley?

The voice boomed in from everywhere and nowhere, ever-present. Sylar looked around, annoyed, and considered trying to cover himself up with a potted plant for just a moment. “I have no idea who that is,” he said, his voice strained. “Where’s the exit?”

"You've reached Gabriel Sylar. I'm not available right now, but I'll return your call as soon as possible. Please leave a message."

[Or you can leave him an email or a text. He's up on all that, honest.]

How many times is this for me, now? At least five. And I think this is the first time I've ever seen people here on a Monday. There's always something new here...

I'm sure you've all had your welcomes already. Don't worry yourselves- most of those who just arrived will be going home at the end of the day. If there's anyone out there that still has questions, I'd be happy to answer them. I've lived here for several years.

And if anyone wants to talk to me, here's your chance.

( ooc )

Well, I have to say, I wasn't expecting the rabbits to set me on fire. There goes another jacket- but the City gets points for originality.

Even I'm starting to get tired of this weather. It was nice seeing a real winter, for once, but now I'm reminded of why I was always so glad when they were over with.

( Deity Filter )

[The video is a closeup of a workbench, many tiny, cogs and wheels all laid out very carefully laid out. There's a low grumble in the background- then a cough. A pair of tweezers enter the shot and pick up a wheel nice and deliberately. It shifts, almost out of range of the camera--

And then the wheel clatters onto the workbench and rolls off it entirely, accompanied by a giant sneeze. After a short pause and a small sniffle, there's another giant sneeze. This one blows all the pieces off and dislodges the device besides, revealing an annoyed-looking Sylar, with a very red nose. The watch pieces clatter quietly on the floor as he glares at the workbench.]

That's it, I'm done.

[He sniffles pitifully as he puts away his tools. Yes, Sylar's a big baby when he's sick- what a surprise.

He finally catches sight of the device recording and groans before turning it off. ]

[Sylar opens the door to an unfamiliar apartment with a couple of boxes following him in the air, like some sort of ridiculous Fantasia gag. He had a long day at work and doesn't feel like carrying them himself, okay? They're both marked "Kitchen" with black magic marker and he's about to have them set themselves on top of the counter while he takes off his coat. But that's when he notices the snowglobe.

Everything stops moving.

He'd seen them around, even taken the time to stare at a few of New York City (and set one he particularly liked inside his shop), but this one shows the inside of his mother's apartment. It's an apartment which has been replaced by new tenants at least once by now, but here it is. The tiny living room is set up for Christmas, and all the snowlobes that light up are turned on, along with the lights on the tree.]

Rather recursive, don't you think?

[But he's got an odd, quiet smile on his face-- at least until he realizes his device is recording and he turns it off.]

....no, I won't. I've ducked it all day, I-

[muffled thumping noises, followed by an annoyed grunt]

When I was five, I lost my Hot Wheels car behind the seat in an old grungy diner. I was only paying half of my attention to it. My father had brought me in there to meet my aunt and uncle- I didn't understand it then, but now I can put the pieces together. He gave them a giant wad of cash and then told me to stay. I didn't listen, I followed him out...damn it.

My mother was still in the car, and this is all I remember seeing of her, just that face in the dirty car window. She argued with him, and he did something- blood poured out of her head and he pushed her out of the car. He left her lying on the dirt road as he drove away. I don't remember if I cried or not. All I remember is my aunt trying to turn my head away, telling me that it didn't happen.

[There's a quiet moment, followed by a crash. Unfortunately the device is still on.]

That's enough.

[he gets it this time, and the recording cuts out]

I'm guessing today's a curse, because otherwise I would have taken a break at three. That's okay, though. These are going to be so useful.

Anthony, can I borrow your warehouse space for a few hours? I won't get in the way.

( ooc )