the end is never the end is never the end

[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?”

Comments

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

You must be a co-worker, the voice concluded. You're not supposed to be here. Perhaps you missed the memo. Oh dear, this is most unexpected. Now, you need to keep very quiet while I find Stanley. Don't do anything that might draw attention to yourself. This may be a slight bit difficult, because you appear to have no clothes on. But keep your head up, we'll get through this. You just have to try very, very hard to remain inconspic-

Sylar felt a shift, and his body blazed in happy yellow.

...He was going to kill that robot. And this one. He had had it with disembodied voices.

Hmm. You're not very good at following instructions. That is so unlike Stanley. You do look quite like him, you know.

"How," Sylar seethed, all the angrier at not being able to see a speaker on which he could unleash his rage, "do I get out of here?"

I know! Why don't you try... hiding under a desk? Yes! I think that should do nicely- Where are you going? No... no, don't go through that door! I forbid it! Get back! Go back!

Sylar stormed through the left door. If that's where Stanley had gone, it was where he was going.

Perhaps he would provide some answers on pain of death.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

He made his way quickly down the hallway and found himself in some sort of meeting room. His eyes moved quickly over the text on the board, looking for any signs that someone had just been here. Nothing moved. However, there was a piece of paper near the opposite corner that had a smashed corner. It was right in front of an open door.

Sylar started making his way toward the door, and it closed in front of him.

Now listen here. The voice was starting to sound annoyed. I know you think it would be fun to go hassle your coworkers right now, but Stanley really needs to get through this alone. I can’t say what would happen if you ran into him, especially in this state. Perhaps you’d rather see the pencil sharpeners?

Sylar wondered why the voice spoke as if he were telling a secret. I know where they are, you know. Just back the other way! Come on!

Sylar did not move, other than to hold two fingers out and use his telekinesis to open the door. “I don’t think so.”

The door tried to close itself, but Sylar kept it open with telekinesis and stomped through it. Really now, you’re being amazingly rude. I don’t think you quite understand how rude you’re being.

Sylar ignored him and walked rapidly down the hall, past a door emblazoned with the words “BROOM CLOSET” and towards a set of stairs.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Oh, come on, now, the voice said. This is getting ridiculous. Surely you didn't just walk right past the BROOM CLOSET? Stanley loves that little closet, you know. He really shouldn't, but I suppose we all have our funny things that make us happy. Perhaps if you went in, you too would be able to understand and appreciate its gloriously broomy appeal-

Sylar paused in front of the stairs, not sure whether to go up or down.

-Or perhaps you could ask Stanley yourself! He's just down this way. Yup. Definitely down. Down, not up. Stanley is down there, relaxing comfortably in the rooms downstairs. Ahh, could there be any better direction than d- Hey! That's not down. That is most, definitely, assuredly not down, and you are really starting to make me cross.

Sylar stalked up three flights of stairs and emerged in an unexpectedly posh hallway. "STANLEY!" he barked, going down one end (there was an Executive Bathroom there, but it was locked, and there was no one inside when he wrenched the door aside with telekinesis) and then the other, where the hallway opened up into some kind of luxurious waiting area. "STANLEY!"

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Employee 432, whom nobody liked, kept disregarding the narrator. This was despite the narrator’s attempts to tell him that he didn’t even belong in this story. No, his story was to wait until the sequel, when the universe would be expanded upon. He would have an even bigger role than Stanley, connecting all the endings together until they reached an astounding sort of ‘Ending Zen’. But none of this would happen unless Employee 432 took proper notice of the memo, and—wait, what? What are you doing now?

Sylar had ripped open the Executive Office’s door using telekinesis and opened it onto a perfectly nice CEO office. There was no Stanley inside, and he didn’t appear when Sylar yelled for him again.

In fact, there wasn't much of interest here. There weren’t any papers on the desk, and nothing to indicate that this office was used as anything more than a prop. There was even a ridiculous-looking keypad in the back. Sylar walked over to it and stared at it.

Employee 432, having fallen prey to reverse psychology, had actually gone where he was supposed to all along. But the boss wasn’t there, and neither was Stanley. Employee 432 gave up his quest, sat in the comfortable chair in the office, and daydreamed about pencils. Eventually, his boss would come and tell him why everything was so strange.

Sylar ignored the obnoxious voice for the time being and continued staring at the keypad. If he paid enough attention to it, he could tell what the keypad controlled.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Sylar touched the keypad, closing his eyes as his mind delved into its essence: glimpsing its history, getting flashes of the people who had touched it - Stanley's boss, mostly, and someone else... was that Stanley? He couldn't quite tell - and, most importantly, what it did.

The keypad controlled some kind of door. All he had to do was-

Wait, there was something else. Sylar frowned. He couldn't quite tell what it would do, but...

He pressed '8'.

He pressed it again. And again, and-

Oh! What secret feature of this keypad had Employee 432 stumbled upon? Perhaps a secret safe holding untold treasures in its belly, or perhaps an artifact that would bestow him with immense power far beyond his greatest imaginings. Yes, this was almost as exciting as sharpening pencils. Employee 432 trembled with barely concealed anticipation as his fingers keyed in 'eight' for the eighth and final time...

"EIGHT," said a deep voice.

Sylar waited.

Nothing happened.

Employee 432 was starting to realise that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. If only he had listened to the narrator, he thought, berating himself for his foolishness. If only there was a way to right this grievous wrong.

Sylar's face darkened.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Yes, it really was quite the conundrum Empl--

"Shut up," Sylar interrupted. And to his surprise, the voice stopped talking. "I'm not this Employee you're talking about. My name is Sylar and I don't belong here."

Oh, that's what all the Employee 432s say, said the voice, rather blandly. Although they usually don't have superpowers, now that I think about it. You're a unique iteration! But I do have to insist that you belong here. Perhaps just not here. You are most definitely on the wrong level.

Sylar started walking back the way he came. This place was almost worse than the last place. All it needed was for him to implode again.

Ah, going to try those options I gave you earlier, are you? How refreshing. Before you go, though, why not try that Executive Bathroom again?

As Sylar walked into the hall, the door on the end, which didn't look to be broken any longer, opened. A bright yellow glow emanated from it, and he narrowed his eyes as he approached. Getting close, he could tell the bathroom was different, with different magazines, and a different sink. He didn't think much of it until he saw an entire outfit hanging from a hook next to the shower stall. Huh.

This is assuming, of course, that you're not enjoying roaming the halls naked and glowing. If you are, then carry on. Clearly I can't stop you.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Sylar stalked into the Executive Bathroom and slammed the door shut. He tried not to notice how the yellow light in the bathroom was the exact same as that currently emanating from his person.

He grabbed the outfit off the hook - it was standard office business attire. He pulled on the shirt and pants, his brow furrowing slightly at the tiny embroidered pencil sharpener on the shirt's breast pocket. There was also a tie draped over the hanger, and he was about to ignore it until he realised it could come in useful for strangling someone, ideally, the owner of that infuriating voice. Murder via telekinesis was quick and effective, but it lacked that personal touch. Sylar clenched a fist. He stuffed the tie into a pocket and yanked on the shoes.

Employee 432 had finally decided to obey the company's reasonable dress code. He would soon discover how much happier this made him. Ahh, how much unnecessary trouble he had been taking upon himself! How much better it was to not be a shining beacon of impressively toned nudity. Employee 432 smiled to himself in satisfaction.

Sylar scowled. He glared at his reflection - in this outfit, he looked uncomfortably like that science-nerd Peter. He turned and blasted the door open with telekinesis, stalking back out in search of Stanley.

The light could not pass through his clothes; only his head and hands still glowed, which was at least an improvement.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Sylar was very much stomping around now. He stomped all the way back to the stairs, then stomped down the stairs. He stomped through the hallways, forcibly opening every door to check for this ‘Stanley’. The voice was oddly silent, which meant to Sylar that he must be onto something.

He stomped all the way back to the door labelled “BROOM CLOSET” in large capital letters. He opened the door to find:

A man crouched in the corner of the closet, staring at the cleaning supplies. He somehow looked like Sylar, and also looked like the blandest office worker Sylar had ever seen. It was honestly rather offensive to him.

Now you’ve done it. I can’t take any responsibility now. This might just break everything. The voice sounded rather despondent, and punctuated his statement with a sigh. Not that it matters. Stanley’s been staring blankly at that apparently amazing cleaning solution for hours. He’s not about to get to the end any time soon, either.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Very, very slowly, Stanley raised his head from the cleaning supplies to look at the intruder. His mouth fell open. An angry, glowing guy who looked disturbingly like him was standing there in what looked like Employee 432's set of spare clothes.

"Who..." Stanley said, barely a whisper. "Who..."

Sylar telekinetically yanked him up by the neck and slammed him against the closet wall. Stanley gasped out, all the colour draining from his face and being replaced by pure terror.

This is it, Stanley thought in a feverish daze. This is what happened to my co-workers, and now it's going to happen to me. I'm going to die, right here in the broom closet, in front of a cleaning solution that effectively removes 99% of difficult stains-

"How do I get out of here?" Sylar demanded.

Stanley opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue appeared frozen with fear.

He let out a whimper instead.

Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Do you want to live, Stanley?"

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Stanley was surprised to find himself accosted by a strange vision. ‘I must be hallucinating,” Stanley thought, watching in fear as someone who looked just like him both glowed and snarled at him. “That’s it, this isn’t real. I will put it out of my mind.” And Stanley did just that.

Stanley himself didn’t seem entirely convinced by the narration. He stared at Sylar with wide eyes, and eventually whispered out, “I want to live.”

Oh, Stanley, don’t talk to the hallucination. It’s not good for your health. Just…pretend he isn’t there! That’s it, pretend nothing is wrong, and we can go back to your office and push buttons for a few days. Doesn’t that sound nice?

For once, the promise of buttons to press didn’t hold Stanley in sway. He was still being held up against the closet wall by some unknown force, for one thing. He couldn’t leave now if he wanted to. For another, that man that looked like him was still glaring at him very, very hard.

“I- I don’t know. The way out,” he stammered.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

"You work here, don't you? How hard is it to find the door?"

"It's not there," Stanley said. "I... I tried. I don't know what happened. The building... it's changed..."

Stanley realised how silly this sounded. Buildings could not change without extensive construction work. He would have been sure to notice that. It was becoming quite obvious to Stanley that all of this was just in his head. Morphing buildings, vanished co-workers, glowing doppelgangers...

Sylar's glare intensified. "Where's that voice coming from?"

Stanley looked close to tears. "I don't know. Please let me go, please..."

Sylar dropped him in disgust. He couldn't bear to see his face begging so pathetically.

Stanley didn't even try to get back up. He cowered where he fell, staring desperately at the same cleaning solution as though it could help. It was the only surety in his world right now. He wanted to stay here, in this broom closet. Things made sense here. Everything would be all right if he just stayed here-

Sylar telekinetically shoved Stanley's head against the wall. Stanley yelped.

"Get up," Sylar spat. "Move."

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Stanley got up, and he moved. The way he moved was a bit iffy- he wobbled back and forth, dizzy from the smack against the wall. But he was at least following Sylar's order.

It meant that Sylar couldn't continue to work himself up into a temper tantrum, and he was somewhat annoyed by that. He crossed his arms as Stanley marched out of the Broom Closet, the only place he had felt safe.

An awful lot of glaring happened before Sylar spoke up again. The narrating voice was oddly silent. "How did you used to leave the building?" Sylar demanded. "Where are the stairs down to the lobby?"

Stanley looked at Sylar as if he'd been asked where the manatees were kept. It was a question that didn't make sense to him. He wasn't sure why it didn't make sense to him- it was a perfectly reasonable question. Sylar, seeing Stanley's blank face, rolled his eyes. And, with a gesture, he flung Stanley down the hall towards the conference room. They'd start from the beginning.

"Wait!" cried Stanley, before smacking into the far wall. He groaned as he slid to the floor, and the rest of what he was going to say came out in a croak. "I remember...there were other levels. I found them once. But it was strange, like I wasn't supposed to be there..." All the catwalks in black spaces really creeped him out, to be honest.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Sylar's eyes glinted. "Where?" he demanded.

Stanley opened his mouth to say he didn't know, and then realised that that was exactly the kind of answer that would get him further hurt.

He felt an invisible grasp tighten dangerously around his throat and gasped. "Upstairs," he said, something breaking free from his muddled memory. "It was... near my boss's office... I think... please..."

"There." Sylar released Stanley's neck, yanking him back to his feet. "I knew you could cooperate."

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

What? Oh- you are kidding me. Stanley, hold on. No need to do anything rash now. You have something of an infestation here- nothing to worry about. You just need to give me some time to deal with these copies. I see now it's not your fault. I will take care of it! Just hang on, and whatever you do, don't go through--

Apparently that was all the voice had to say, because it was resolutely silent after that. Sylar sighed deeply and tugged on Stanley's collar, near-dragging him back towards the office.

"D-do you know what that voice is?" Stanley meekly asked, trying with difficulty to keep up. "It just started a couple hours ago and it won't stop...or, well, it hadn't until now. I suppose."

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Sylar glowered, which - unfortunately for him - was not very noticeable, given that he was currently shining a merry yellow and making an angry face. "How would I know that?" he demanded.

He yanked on Stanley, dragging his feet along the floor as he struggled to remain upright. Stanley had the feeling that he would be able to move a lot quicker if Sylar let go of him, but he also had the feeling that he shouldn't mention that. But the voice worried him - what was he not supposed to go through?

They emerged at the foot of the stairs to his boss' office. Sylar shoved him forward. Stanley fell, smacking his head against the edge of a step. He let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"SHUT UP!" Sylar yelled.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Stanley did, in fact, shut up at that point. He held his mouth as tightly closed as possible, and hoped against hope that the scary man that looked like him didn't make him scream again. And- oh god, his forehead felt wet! Was he bleeding, or was he perhaps just sweaty? He didn't dare touch his head to find out.

Instead, his unsteady hand pointed up the stairs, because of course that was where the boss' office was. Sylar shook his head and dragged the poor Stanley along by his collar.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Stanley was starting to remember something Very Important as Sylar dragged him up the stairs and barged them through the stairwell door into the reception area. Something about needing to get out of his boss' office just before the doors closed, and he thought that perhaps he should tell the scary glowing man that, but the scary glowing man had made it quite clear to Stanley that he was not to say a word-

There was someone behind the receptionist's desk.

Someone who... also looked like him, and who was staring at Stanley in the same stunned way that Stanley was staring at him. Stanley gave a nervous glance at Sylar, but he hadn't seemed to notice. His gaze was fixed right ahead at the double doors.

Oh! the disembodied voice said, giving all three of them a start. Oh no, no, no, Stanley! You're bleeding! Oh, this is not good. This is not good at all. Did you do this, Employee 432? How could you ever hurt such an innocent and unremarkable soul as poor Stanley? I... I have to put a stop to this. I absolutely cannot let you carry on like that. Oh, Stanley, I'm so sorry. I'll fix this, I promise you! Let's see, let's see... What if I try...

There was a click.

Sylar stopped glowing.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

It was the first time Stanley found himself glad for the overbearing presence of that voice. It at least seemed concerned for him. Worried. Maybe it would help. Stopping the scary man from glowing seemed like a...first step? Maybe?

And while Sylar would normally be quite glad himself for the lack of glowing, he definitely didn't trust it. Up until now, the voice hadn't been able to do anything but annoy him- this was definitely something a bit different.

He wasn't going to concern himself with it for now, however. That set of partially open double doors seemed important, and he was going to get in there. He held up a hand to blast them open (really just for the effect), and...nothing happened. Sylar stared at his hand as if it was the malfunctioning part, and tried again. Apparently, his telekinesis was gone.

Employee 432 stared in horror at his hand, realizing that his strange powers had suddenly disappeared. No longer would he be able to terrori--

"What did you do to me?!" Sylar yelled, still pulling Stanley along by the collar as he paced.

Yes, well. The voice sounded rather annoyed. You're not supposed to have superpowers, are you? That's hardly part of the story. It would just make everything silly. So I've turned them off! I don't understand why you were so keen on glowing in the first place.

Sylar let out an angry roar and continued pacing. It just so happened to turn him towards Adam. His eyes narrowed at the same time as the rest of his face lit up. It was not a nice expression. "You. What are you doing here?"

[adam_kaufman]

Adam slowly got up from behind the desk, trying to look more confident than he felt. There was no more reason to be afraid, he told himself. With Sylar's powers gone, they were evenly matched. Sylar was outnumbered, in fact, although a proper look at Stanley - who still seemed on the verge of tears - cast some doubt on that.

"We... we were sent to bring you back," Adam said, forcing his feet a few steps closer. He glanced at Stanley, hoping to communicate some sort of signal (perhaps to attack Sylar together?), but Stanley's face had blanked out. Stanley was having a very bad day indeed.

"Where are your friends, then?" Sylar spat.

"They'll be here," Adam said, hoping desperately that was true. "You can't run. There are two of us and only one of you."

Sylar glared at him, seeming to realise the same thing, and then in a sudden movement he yanked Stanley up by the collar and slammed his head brutally against a shelf. Stanley's look of panic flashed into unconsciousness. Sylar dropped him.

Stanley! No!

Adam lunged at Sylar before he knew what he was doing. For a moment he saw the shock on the other man's face, and then fell back as Sylar punched him hard on the jaw. He staggered forward again, heart furiously thumping, and swung a punch of his own that went completely wide. Sylar grabbed him and shoved him to the ground. Sylar might have been without his powers, but Adam was still a nerdy weakling who spent all his time on the computer, and he cried out as Sylar kneed him in the chest and grabbed his throat in a chokehold, his full weight pinning Adam down against the floor.

[free-your-brain.livejournal.com]

Breathing hard, Sylar cast a defiant glance up at the ceiling. "Take me home," he snarled. "Or I'll snap his neck, and your precious Stanley will be next. If he's still alive."

Oh, said the voice, and for the first time it almost seemed angry. So. This is how you want to play, is it? Well, then. If you would please kill Employee 432 for me, new guy. He's been a tremendous bother.

There was another click.

The red haze veiling Adam's vision suddenly stopped. He felt a sudden thrum of power and energy spreading through his body as the aches and pains faded away, bloodied wounds knitting themselves back together; and then, to his equal parts relief and horror, he started to glow.

"Get off me," Adam gasped, and all around him the room was newly filled with connected things, all of it a beautiful web of invisible threads that he could just reach out and-

Adam flung out his hand. Sylar flew backwards across the room, screaming with impotent rage.

[persianiscooler.livejournal.com]

(( From Here (https://bisexualfury.livejournal.com/1736.html?page=9#comments)))

Sasan didn't particularly want to be in the front of a line that was running towards Sylar, but Smudge was already off. He wasn't going to let Smudge just run into it all on his own, not hardly. He'd just have to get used to all this adventure- at least he had the prototype gun to help. Hopefully. Peter was hot on his heels.

They zipped through a number of corridors and service areas, up one flight of stairs and- he screeched to a halt in front of a rather fancy area, clearly some sort of manager's area. The double doors were closed and he heard some thumping behind them.

Peter immediately set up a portal down the hall, just in case they needed some form of escape and Sasan put his hand on the knob. Hopefully, it was before Smudge barged in there. It didn't end up mattering, though, because there was something blocking the door. He began to rattle the knob, calling, "Adam? Adam, are you okay? We're here!" They were getting Sylar's attention already, might as well hope for the unlikely good condition of their friend.

[adam_kaufman]

There was someone on the floor. Smudge scooted over and crouched down by the unconscious Stanley. "Sas!" he shouted.

--

He had never felt power like this before. Adam's mind reeled in a wild ecstasy of freedom, everything around him waiting for his command. At some point they had ended up through the double doors, and he now swept mental feelers around the boss' office, nudging everything with his mind, dizzy with the extent of his control. Books flew off the shelves at his slightest thought; lamps hovered in the air flickering on and off; with the barest twitch of his finger the sofas slid from one end of the room to another; and on the ground, Sylar, just another object that Adam effortlessly whipped off the ground and slammed against the ceiling, his pulse racing even as he felt an unearthly calm settle into his bones.

Adam took a deep breath and let it out. Distantly, he heard someone calling his name. It didn't seem important any more. He looked at Sylar struggling on the ceiling and realised how ridiculously easy it would be to kill him. Just a single thought. Just like squashing an ant. He didn't even feel angry anymore.

He let go.

The other man hit the ground, his face violently contorting in pain. "Help," he said, scrambling towards the door, wheels spinning in his brain as he tried to think of a way out of this. "HELP! LET ME OUT!"

Adam barely noticed. He raised a hand to his forehead and felt unbroken skin where a wound had just been. He lowered his hand and stared at it, turning it this way and that, almost hypnotised by the inhuman glow. Promises of greater power whispered to him from the edges of his mind. He could be more. So much more. His body trembled - in fear or want, perhaps both. Somewhere deep, a hunger stirred.

Adam looked at the knob jiggling in the door and Sylar trying to get out. His mind reached out and noted the four men outside - just as mortal, just as fragile, just as... insignificant. It didn't make sense that he had just been one of them.

Some part of Adam's mind was panicking and screaming that this was wrong, something was very wrong; but that didn't make sense. He had never felt better. Nothing was wrong. Nothing could touch him.

He was... special.

[persianiscooler.livejournal.com]

As soon as Smudge pointed out the body on the floor, Sasan let out a loud gasp and ran over to it, and after watching the two of them, Peter kept trying the door. The unconscious man wasn't Adam- it was someone new- which meant that Adam was probably the one calling for help on the other side of the door.

Oh, thank goodness you're here. I think. You all do seem less murderous than the other one. Can you watch after Stanley? He was never supposed to be injured! The story is entirely ruined if he's not awake for it.

Predictably, Sasan looked all around and deflated a bit when it turned out that there was no one there. This was just like the place with the awful robot lady. Great. At least they weren't being threatened with acid. He looked back down at the poor man, bleeding slightly from where his head hit the table. "Sure," he said to the air. "We're all for keeping everyone safe. Can you open the door?"

Peter was trying to push, but the door just wasn't budging. Looking around at their surrounding, he saw an open door across the hall he hadn't noticed before, but there wasn't anything that might open this one. Maybe the computer on the secretary's desk? But he was loathe to leave the door. "Adam! Damn it, let us in!"

[adam_kaufman]

Oh, now, I can't do that, the voice protested. It would mess up the chronology completely if Stanley could just walk back out of his boss's office.

Smudge looked suspiciously at the ceiling. "But Stanley's out here."

There was a pause. Well. Yes. All the same, there's a murder in progress, and we don't want to disturb that, do we?

On the ground, Stanley's eyelids flickered. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and then gasped out a sob. "No!" he said, reflexively raising his arms in self-defence, a look of pure terror on his face as he tried to back away in panic. "No, don't hurt me, please! Please..."

--

Adam looked up as Peter called. He wasn't sure why he had to open the door. Everything was fine in here. It would be nice if he didn't glow, but other than that... He looked down at himself and noticed his body subtly changing; the regeneration ability recreating its last known template, muscles growing to cover his previously skinny frame. He hadn't felt this fit ever.

Oh come on, now. What's taking you so long? Get on with it and kill him, so we can continue with the story.

Adam swallowed. He turned his attention back to Sylar, who was crouched by the door and glaring at him in undisguised hatred, blood streaking his face from the fall. Adam telekinetically grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, feeling catharsis burn through his bones. He raised a finger to slice his throat... and faltered, not quite able to make the kill, his finger trembling in the air, the sharp point of his telekinetic blade drawing blood from a spot on Sylar's neck.

Sylar laughed. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, his eyes still dark with loathing. "But what do you think will happen when you've killed me, Adam? Do you think he's going to let you keep those powers?"

Adam wanted to say that he didn't want them, but he knew it would be a lie.

"No," Sylar said. "And then you and your little friends will be trapped without any powers to help you. Doesn't sound good, does it?"

"You tried to kill us."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "I can't do that any more, can I? Creepy voice up there isn't going to give me my powers back. But I'm sure he'd let you have them to keep me in check. You stay immortal, I stay alive. There. Put me down and open that door."

Adam scoffed. "Have you met Smudge? They'd kill you anyway."

A grin spread across Sylar's face. "Not if they think I'm you."

No! Adam thought, sickened at the idea, and yet... and yet every nerve in his body was singing with power, coaxing him away to higher things. Why should he concern himself with these mere mortals who were so weak, so pathetic? Here... here was the chance to be free of them. To evolve... to be something better... to be Sylar.

Oh dear, said the Narrator, sounding upset.

Sylar smiled. "Give me your clothes."

[persianiscooler.livejournal.com]

Sasan wasn't entirely sure how to calm down an office worker who had just been through a Sylar attack, but he tried anyway. "Hey, hey- it's okay. No hurting planned. We're not the same as that guy. We're trying to help you." Stanley had responded by clenching his eyes shut and making a worried humming noise. Sasan glanced at Smudge, unsure if this was entering into the realm of what Smudge was better dealing with. But he tried again. "Hey, Stanley? Look at me, okay? I'm not glowing, I'm wearing completely different, way better clothes. There's four of us here. Relax."

Stanley did open his eyes cautiously, but he didn't seem particularly convinced. "This day is mad," he muttered.

Meanwhile, Peter was arguing with the voice, punctuating it with more kicks at the obnoxiously shut door. "You can't let a murder happen in there! Adam's our friend, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve to get murdered in this place. None of us wanted to be here anyway! We just wanted to take Sylar back to the goddamned testing facility, and maybe we'll be freed. Do not tell me you're going to let this happen."

Right now, I'm inclined to banish all of you. Ah-- The 'ah' stretched out until it was more of an 'um'. -all right! All right. I think we're settled. I have...changed my mind, yes. Even I am capable of having a change of heart and that is what happened. I am opening the door! Please watch your step.

Peter thankfully backed up, because the door burst open like it had been under pressure. Adam looked in terrible shape, and Peter could see just from the disarray that he'd been thrown all over the place. He knew he should keep his eyes on the monster, but he wanted to make sure he got Adam to a slightly safer position. He rushed in to grab him, no idea that there was any difference. Sylar was the one with the powers that glowed, after all.

At the door opening, Stanley immediately squealed in fear and tried his best to back up all the way into the stairway. He was, unfortunately, not making much headway.