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Title: "Run and Catch"
Rating: R, some graphic violence
Characters: Sylar, Drusilla
Spoilers: Complete for "Buffy" and "Angel", General for Season 1 of "Heroes".
Setting: San Francisco, September 2006 (more than three years after "Chosen", shortly before the start of "Genesis".
A quick gesture of his fingers summoned the creamer from across the counter at Starbucks. Sylar could pretend to be Gabriel Gray long enough to flirt with a barista, but he could only be himself when faced by the kind of inconvenience that ordinary people would just accept. That wasn't him anymore.
He smirked to himself as his black coffee swirled into an inviting, steamy brown with the cr?me. He heard a quiet gasp and looked back across the lightly crowded coffee bar. The barista was staring openly, had obviously seen him use his power. Good, he thought, arching an eyebrow solicitously at her. Maybe she'll know better than to spend more time talking to the yuppie scum behind me when I say hello.
Still smiling, Sylar turned away from the alarmed young girl and pushed the Starbucks door open with his back. He was still stirring his coffee as he stepped out into the cool San Francisco evening. He strolled further down toward the busy lights of Pier 39, sipping his drink, as the cold coastal breeze blew his overcoat around. He felt vibrant and fully aware, his breath was shallow in anticipation. Tonight, he'd have one more. Chandra's notes had been very helpful so far in helping him become what he was meant to be and to remove the ones who could never justify their gifts. He's made several stops already, and treasured each new toy. He didn't even mind the blood anymore. Why should a predator mind the smell or taste of blood, anyway?
Tonight it was a fortune teller on Fisherman's Wharf. Chandra's notes had given him the name and the city, and Google had given him everything else. This was a 24 year old woman who performed for audiences and by appointment at a shop at the busy tourist destination. Sylar didn't imagine what power she might have, but could it be related? Maybe she could see the future? Or read minds? Control them? He felt goose bumps over his skin at the possibilities.
Sylar discarded his coffee into the trash as he finished it. He ignored the desire to use his telekinesis to achieve it ? scaring or enticing one witness was not problematic in the way that a panicked herd of people might be. Spotting the fortune teller's storefront, Sylar pulled the collar of his wool overcoat up around his neck, aware of and glad for the feel of classical menace it probably conveyed. After all, he was scary.
He took a deep breath as he strode the last few steps to the shop door. The breath let out in a quick burst of frustration when he realized the door was locked. The shop was closed.
"You trying to learn what the future holds, man?" asked a bystander. A twenty-something man with a tie-dye shirt under a brown suit coat, Sylar noted. He remembered to be Gabriel Gray when he answered.
"Yeah, just my luck, too. I heard this one might have something really special," Sylar pouted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. "It's only 9:00 on a Friday, I thought she would still be open."
"You're in luck, my man. She said to tell anyone that comes by she is off getting her chakras cleared or reawakened or something and that she'd be right back."
Still a chance. "Wow, really. I've been looking forward to meeting her for a while. How long did she say?"
"Didn't say, she just shut the door and headed back off the pier toward that alley with some couple. From how they looked, I don't think she's just getting her chakras awakened, you know what I mean?"
The useful stranger giggled at his own joke and Sylar lost interest almost immediately. Bystanders weren't a problem for him as long as he handled them quickly. If she did go into an alley for some kind of tryst it might be easier anyway. With an empty smile, Sylar turned in the direction the man had indicated. The first alley he saw across the street was dark and no foot traffic even glanced down it as they passed. It couldn't be more perfect.
When he stepped into the alley, Sylar narrowed his eyes for signs of movement. He could hear mumbling around the back of one of the buildings, and he inched forward in the dark so he could take them by surprise.
Sylar stepped around the corner toward the voices, drawing his hands from his pockets. He saw a man and a woman, the fortune teller based on her bandana and ornate earrings. The man was just an average man in a sweater, but with less than honorable intentions ? he pushed the fortune teller against the alley wall and kissed her fiercely. Sylar rolled his eyes as he watched. He wasn't nearly voyeuristic enough to sit through a street side quickie before taking what he wanted. He ducked behind a rolling dumpster and got ready to jump out.
Even as Sylar stepped out of the alley, he froze in place. The man with the fortune teller pulled his head back from their kiss, and with a snarl, his face changed shape. His eyes turned yellow and his face contorted into an almost feline shape. He opened his mouth and bared ? fangs? Are they actually ? his teeth before plunging his face into her neck. She screamed for an instant, then whimpered, and then just moaned. Sylar studied this in amazement. Vampires were just stories, weren't they? Like telekinesis? Like freezing water with just a glance?
His wondrous expression broke after a moment, realizing the scope of the problem ? he might not be able to take the power of a dead woman. He had to act, vampire or not.
"This one isn't on the menu," Sylar snarked, striding out from behind the dumpster and extending his hand. As he thrust his hand forward, the man ? vampire ? flew away from the fortune teller with a demonic growl. He crashed into a row of trashcans against a chain link fence at the opposite entrance of the alleyway.
The fortune teller clutched her neck and sprang away from the wall. Sylar waved his hand across her path and she stumbled to the dirty concrete. "I'm not your hero," Sylar apologized.
Movement caught his eye ? the vampire was back on its feet. Sylar stepped to his right and reached back with his right hand. He pointed at the dumpster and then swung his arm forward, as if commanding it to charge. The dumpster rumbled on its casters and flung itself forward. The vampire groaned and disappeared as it was once again slammed against the fence.
Sylar smirked at the ease of the fight. When he finally looked back to the fortune teller, she was already on her feet? and hugging him. Sylar grimaced as she panted her gratitude. Her neck wound spotted blood on his t-shirt. At least it wasn't getting on the coat. He grabbed the girl's arms and held her away from him, finally ready to do what he came to.
Before he could, however, the vampire decided it wasn't done. "You really picked the wrong alley, happy meal!" it bellowed. It had stepped halfway from behind the dumpster. Seeing this, the fortune teller broke from Sylar's grasped and tried to run past him. Unfortunately, she did this as the vampire shoved the dumpster back up the alley toward Sylar. Before he could react, the girl's heel was caught under the dumpster. As she tripped it pulled her under in an instant, and one of the heavy casters rolled clean over her skull. The prize was lost.
Sylar scowled in frustration at the site of the fortune teller's blood pouring out in the alley. He turned his anger toward the vampire, already halfway back up the alley toward him, ready to pounce. "She was mine," Sylar hissed, and lashed out with his hand, gripping it as if strangling. The vampire froze in its tracks, held by the invisible force of telekinesis. Confused, it struggled, even as Sylar turned and slammed it against the brick wall it had just been feeding at.
"What the hell are you doing to me, man? What kind of demon are you?" The vampire pleaded. It looked more afraid than angry, all of the sudden.
"My own kind. I didn't come all the way to San Francisco for nothing. Maybe you have something I can use," Sylar speculated. Holding the vampire in place with a palm out gesture of his left hand, he pointed his right index finger at the vampire's forehead, and slowly began to drag it across.
He had actually started to enjoy the screaming part.
The vampire's skull popped loose as Sylar completed the cut. He flourished his finger and it fell off completely.
"What the hell are you doing, man? I was just trying to get a snack for the lady friend!"
Astounded, Sylar dropped his telekinetic grip on the scalped monster. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that Sylar could understand, even with the brain in front of him. He turned away. The vampire, finding the better part of predatory valor, fled the alley. Sylar wondered what kind of impression a man running out of an alley with his brain exposed by a cleanly removed scalp would make on the street, and then chuckled grimly remembering he was in San Francisco.
"You've done an awful thing, you have. I had just started to like that dolly, and worse, you've ruined my tea party."
The voice was almost sing-song and child-like and took Sylar completely aback. He turned to track it and saw a woman stepping out of the shadows. Her skin was pale, and the clichés of porcelain and alabaster leapt immediately to mind. Her dark hair draped her shoulders, over an equally black cardigan. Underneath, a low-cut tope pushed up her ample bosom, and the whole outfit tapered away into a flowing ankle length skirt. She looked like she'd improvised a medieval fair costume off the rack to Sylar? but she was preternaturally beautiful in a way that refused any choice to look away.
The woman glided ? it looked like she actually floated ? up to Sylar as she continued her gentle scolding. "You're dolly is broken, too, isn't she? You should know better than to pick up others' toys until they are done playing with them."
Sylar straightened were stood, spellbound. "You're like him, aren't you? You're a? a vampire."
The woman tsked and wagged her finger in his face. "'Tisn't nice to call names, now. We may be naked but we aren't shameless."
Sylar furrowed his brow as the vampire woman walked behind him, her fingers tracing a line around his shoulders as she moved. "Naked??" Sylar asked hoarsely.
"Naked on the inside, dearie. Not like you. I can see your laundry flipping inside, all black and dirty and never coming clean. You've all the emperor's clothes inside you still, you've just a flair for exhibition."
Sylar smiled slowly, amused by the accent and the almost random analysis she poured out. "What's the point of having it if not to show it off?" he asked, knowing they were probably having two separate conversations. "I'm not much for hiding anymore."
The woman was fully behind him when Sylar made his move. Whirling around, he thrust out with telekinesis and pinned the vampire woman to the brick wall. Her hair splayed out as she was pinned, her feet dangling more than a foot off the ground. Sylar expected at least alarm, but she just giggled hysterically.
"I've never been made to fly before," she sighed, "it agrees with my terribly well. Can I go higher?"
Sylar was tiring of this. He charged forward and planted his right hand on her stomach. Concentrating, his hand coated itself in ice and he watched as frost spread out across the woman's shirt and the cool skin underneath.
"Ooooh," she moaned. Sylar stared up at her in exasperation. She was getting off on it? "Dearie, if you're going to play you could have gone lower."
"Enough games, you lunatic. I'll see if I can't pry something out of you that I couldn't find in your boy toy," Sylar gritted, pointing his finger at the vampire and preparing to cut.
When he did, he found her fingers already pointing at him. His eyes.
"No cutting without introductions, that's altogether bad form. Lunatic is what strangers say, let me be Drusilla," she whispered intimately. Sylar sighed his own name, rocking in place as this Drusilla held his eyes to hers. "Be in my eyes, dearie? be in me."
"Yes?" Sylar panted, suddenly out of breath. "What do you see? Tell me my fortune?"
Drusilla stared into his eyes, widening her own as she seemed to read his whole life down to the core. Then she started to smile.
"Are you an angel, Drusilla?" Sylar interrupted, entranced. Dru's laughter was infectious now.
"I've always been daddy's girl, but never daddy's nasty beast," she said incomprehensibly. Sylar nodded in feigned understanding anyway. "You, though? you're like daddy. Daddy when he's naked, although with all your clothes in you and the dryer making so much noise!" She gasped in delight at this seemingly impossible conclusion.
"You're spectacular, Drusilla," Sylar whispered. "I need? you can?"
Before he knew he was going to, he drove his lips against hers, kissing her hungrily. He'd never felt so powerful a need. She bit his lip as she returned the passion, and pushed him away. Before he'd regained his balance, she was pushing into him in the alley, running her hands against his chest under his coat. With a burst of telekinesis, he slammed her back into the alley wall and dove in for another kiss. He tore her sweater open and grasped at her breasts, wanting to taste and feel every bit of her at once.
She whispered around their kisses. "You're a special wristwatch but it's not your time yet," she lamented, finally pushing away from him. She looked as enamored by Sylar as he felt of her.
Wristwatch? Oh, right. Sylar. Me. Sylar thought. He was starting to understand Drusilla's associations? perhaps he was learning her psychosis with his own gift?
"You're positively effulgent, love, you glow like you want to burn the whole world down. You're not to sit down for tea until you've done all your work." She whined as she finished. He wasn't sure entirely what she meant but he realized she was leaving.
"Drusilla, I'll burn it down if that's what you want."
She smiled wanly, flattered by the generous offer. "Look for me here when you've outshined them all, dear, and we'll strip you naked as you should be."
Sylar stood away, confused and infatuated and amazed. Drusilla gracefully folded her cardigan shut again and blew him a kiss before gliding out of the alley.
It started raining before Sylar moved out of the alley. He pulled his coat shut around him to block out the cool rain. Drusilla had asked him to come back there. To outshine them all and come back to her. He had a lot of work to do first. It started in Los Angeles.
Rating: R, some graphic violence
Characters: Sylar, Drusilla
Spoilers: Complete for "Buffy" and "Angel", General for Season 1 of "Heroes".
Setting: San Francisco, September 2006 (more than three years after "Chosen", shortly before the start of "Genesis".
A quick gesture of his fingers summoned the creamer from across the counter at Starbucks. Sylar could pretend to be Gabriel Gray long enough to flirt with a barista, but he could only be himself when faced by the kind of inconvenience that ordinary people would just accept. That wasn't him anymore.
He smirked to himself as his black coffee swirled into an inviting, steamy brown with the cr?me. He heard a quiet gasp and looked back across the lightly crowded coffee bar. The barista was staring openly, had obviously seen him use his power. Good, he thought, arching an eyebrow solicitously at her. Maybe she'll know better than to spend more time talking to the yuppie scum behind me when I say hello.
Still smiling, Sylar turned away from the alarmed young girl and pushed the Starbucks door open with his back. He was still stirring his coffee as he stepped out into the cool San Francisco evening. He strolled further down toward the busy lights of Pier 39, sipping his drink, as the cold coastal breeze blew his overcoat around. He felt vibrant and fully aware, his breath was shallow in anticipation. Tonight, he'd have one more. Chandra's notes had been very helpful so far in helping him become what he was meant to be and to remove the ones who could never justify their gifts. He's made several stops already, and treasured each new toy. He didn't even mind the blood anymore. Why should a predator mind the smell or taste of blood, anyway?
Tonight it was a fortune teller on Fisherman's Wharf. Chandra's notes had given him the name and the city, and Google had given him everything else. This was a 24 year old woman who performed for audiences and by appointment at a shop at the busy tourist destination. Sylar didn't imagine what power she might have, but could it be related? Maybe she could see the future? Or read minds? Control them? He felt goose bumps over his skin at the possibilities.
Sylar discarded his coffee into the trash as he finished it. He ignored the desire to use his telekinesis to achieve it ? scaring or enticing one witness was not problematic in the way that a panicked herd of people might be. Spotting the fortune teller's storefront, Sylar pulled the collar of his wool overcoat up around his neck, aware of and glad for the feel of classical menace it probably conveyed. After all, he was scary.
He took a deep breath as he strode the last few steps to the shop door. The breath let out in a quick burst of frustration when he realized the door was locked. The shop was closed.
"You trying to learn what the future holds, man?" asked a bystander. A twenty-something man with a tie-dye shirt under a brown suit coat, Sylar noted. He remembered to be Gabriel Gray when he answered.
"Yeah, just my luck, too. I heard this one might have something really special," Sylar pouted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. "It's only 9:00 on a Friday, I thought she would still be open."
"You're in luck, my man. She said to tell anyone that comes by she is off getting her chakras cleared or reawakened or something and that she'd be right back."
Still a chance. "Wow, really. I've been looking forward to meeting her for a while. How long did she say?"
"Didn't say, she just shut the door and headed back off the pier toward that alley with some couple. From how they looked, I don't think she's just getting her chakras awakened, you know what I mean?"
The useful stranger giggled at his own joke and Sylar lost interest almost immediately. Bystanders weren't a problem for him as long as he handled them quickly. If she did go into an alley for some kind of tryst it might be easier anyway. With an empty smile, Sylar turned in the direction the man had indicated. The first alley he saw across the street was dark and no foot traffic even glanced down it as they passed. It couldn't be more perfect.
When he stepped into the alley, Sylar narrowed his eyes for signs of movement. He could hear mumbling around the back of one of the buildings, and he inched forward in the dark so he could take them by surprise.
Sylar stepped around the corner toward the voices, drawing his hands from his pockets. He saw a man and a woman, the fortune teller based on her bandana and ornate earrings. The man was just an average man in a sweater, but with less than honorable intentions ? he pushed the fortune teller against the alley wall and kissed her fiercely. Sylar rolled his eyes as he watched. He wasn't nearly voyeuristic enough to sit through a street side quickie before taking what he wanted. He ducked behind a rolling dumpster and got ready to jump out.
Even as Sylar stepped out of the alley, he froze in place. The man with the fortune teller pulled his head back from their kiss, and with a snarl, his face changed shape. His eyes turned yellow and his face contorted into an almost feline shape. He opened his mouth and bared ? fangs? Are they actually ? his teeth before plunging his face into her neck. She screamed for an instant, then whimpered, and then just moaned. Sylar studied this in amazement. Vampires were just stories, weren't they? Like telekinesis? Like freezing water with just a glance?
His wondrous expression broke after a moment, realizing the scope of the problem ? he might not be able to take the power of a dead woman. He had to act, vampire or not.
"This one isn't on the menu," Sylar snarked, striding out from behind the dumpster and extending his hand. As he thrust his hand forward, the man ? vampire ? flew away from the fortune teller with a demonic growl. He crashed into a row of trashcans against a chain link fence at the opposite entrance of the alleyway.
The fortune teller clutched her neck and sprang away from the wall. Sylar waved his hand across her path and she stumbled to the dirty concrete. "I'm not your hero," Sylar apologized.
Movement caught his eye ? the vampire was back on its feet. Sylar stepped to his right and reached back with his right hand. He pointed at the dumpster and then swung his arm forward, as if commanding it to charge. The dumpster rumbled on its casters and flung itself forward. The vampire groaned and disappeared as it was once again slammed against the fence.
Sylar smirked at the ease of the fight. When he finally looked back to the fortune teller, she was already on her feet? and hugging him. Sylar grimaced as she panted her gratitude. Her neck wound spotted blood on his t-shirt. At least it wasn't getting on the coat. He grabbed the girl's arms and held her away from him, finally ready to do what he came to.
Before he could, however, the vampire decided it wasn't done. "You really picked the wrong alley, happy meal!" it bellowed. It had stepped halfway from behind the dumpster. Seeing this, the fortune teller broke from Sylar's grasped and tried to run past him. Unfortunately, she did this as the vampire shoved the dumpster back up the alley toward Sylar. Before he could react, the girl's heel was caught under the dumpster. As she tripped it pulled her under in an instant, and one of the heavy casters rolled clean over her skull. The prize was lost.
Sylar scowled in frustration at the site of the fortune teller's blood pouring out in the alley. He turned his anger toward the vampire, already halfway back up the alley toward him, ready to pounce. "She was mine," Sylar hissed, and lashed out with his hand, gripping it as if strangling. The vampire froze in its tracks, held by the invisible force of telekinesis. Confused, it struggled, even as Sylar turned and slammed it against the brick wall it had just been feeding at.
"What the hell are you doing to me, man? What kind of demon are you?" The vampire pleaded. It looked more afraid than angry, all of the sudden.
"My own kind. I didn't come all the way to San Francisco for nothing. Maybe you have something I can use," Sylar speculated. Holding the vampire in place with a palm out gesture of his left hand, he pointed his right index finger at the vampire's forehead, and slowly began to drag it across.
He had actually started to enjoy the screaming part.
The vampire's skull popped loose as Sylar completed the cut. He flourished his finger and it fell off completely.
"What the hell are you doing, man? I was just trying to get a snack for the lady friend!"
Astounded, Sylar dropped his telekinetic grip on the scalped monster. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that Sylar could understand, even with the brain in front of him. He turned away. The vampire, finding the better part of predatory valor, fled the alley. Sylar wondered what kind of impression a man running out of an alley with his brain exposed by a cleanly removed scalp would make on the street, and then chuckled grimly remembering he was in San Francisco.
"You've done an awful thing, you have. I had just started to like that dolly, and worse, you've ruined my tea party."
The voice was almost sing-song and child-like and took Sylar completely aback. He turned to track it and saw a woman stepping out of the shadows. Her skin was pale, and the clichés of porcelain and alabaster leapt immediately to mind. Her dark hair draped her shoulders, over an equally black cardigan. Underneath, a low-cut tope pushed up her ample bosom, and the whole outfit tapered away into a flowing ankle length skirt. She looked like she'd improvised a medieval fair costume off the rack to Sylar? but she was preternaturally beautiful in a way that refused any choice to look away.
The woman glided ? it looked like she actually floated ? up to Sylar as she continued her gentle scolding. "You're dolly is broken, too, isn't she? You should know better than to pick up others' toys until they are done playing with them."
Sylar straightened were stood, spellbound. "You're like him, aren't you? You're a? a vampire."
The woman tsked and wagged her finger in his face. "'Tisn't nice to call names, now. We may be naked but we aren't shameless."
Sylar furrowed his brow as the vampire woman walked behind him, her fingers tracing a line around his shoulders as she moved. "Naked??" Sylar asked hoarsely.
"Naked on the inside, dearie. Not like you. I can see your laundry flipping inside, all black and dirty and never coming clean. You've all the emperor's clothes inside you still, you've just a flair for exhibition."
Sylar smiled slowly, amused by the accent and the almost random analysis she poured out. "What's the point of having it if not to show it off?" he asked, knowing they were probably having two separate conversations. "I'm not much for hiding anymore."
The woman was fully behind him when Sylar made his move. Whirling around, he thrust out with telekinesis and pinned the vampire woman to the brick wall. Her hair splayed out as she was pinned, her feet dangling more than a foot off the ground. Sylar expected at least alarm, but she just giggled hysterically.
"I've never been made to fly before," she sighed, "it agrees with my terribly well. Can I go higher?"
Sylar was tiring of this. He charged forward and planted his right hand on her stomach. Concentrating, his hand coated itself in ice and he watched as frost spread out across the woman's shirt and the cool skin underneath.
"Ooooh," she moaned. Sylar stared up at her in exasperation. She was getting off on it? "Dearie, if you're going to play you could have gone lower."
"Enough games, you lunatic. I'll see if I can't pry something out of you that I couldn't find in your boy toy," Sylar gritted, pointing his finger at the vampire and preparing to cut.
When he did, he found her fingers already pointing at him. His eyes.
"No cutting without introductions, that's altogether bad form. Lunatic is what strangers say, let me be Drusilla," she whispered intimately. Sylar sighed his own name, rocking in place as this Drusilla held his eyes to hers. "Be in my eyes, dearie? be in me."
"Yes?" Sylar panted, suddenly out of breath. "What do you see? Tell me my fortune?"
Drusilla stared into his eyes, widening her own as she seemed to read his whole life down to the core. Then she started to smile.
"Are you an angel, Drusilla?" Sylar interrupted, entranced. Dru's laughter was infectious now.
"I've always been daddy's girl, but never daddy's nasty beast," she said incomprehensibly. Sylar nodded in feigned understanding anyway. "You, though? you're like daddy. Daddy when he's naked, although with all your clothes in you and the dryer making so much noise!" She gasped in delight at this seemingly impossible conclusion.
"You're spectacular, Drusilla," Sylar whispered. "I need? you can?"
Before he knew he was going to, he drove his lips against hers, kissing her hungrily. He'd never felt so powerful a need. She bit his lip as she returned the passion, and pushed him away. Before he'd regained his balance, she was pushing into him in the alley, running her hands against his chest under his coat. With a burst of telekinesis, he slammed her back into the alley wall and dove in for another kiss. He tore her sweater open and grasped at her breasts, wanting to taste and feel every bit of her at once.
She whispered around their kisses. "You're a special wristwatch but it's not your time yet," she lamented, finally pushing away from him. She looked as enamored by Sylar as he felt of her.
Wristwatch? Oh, right. Sylar. Me. Sylar thought. He was starting to understand Drusilla's associations? perhaps he was learning her psychosis with his own gift?
"You're positively effulgent, love, you glow like you want to burn the whole world down. You're not to sit down for tea until you've done all your work." She whined as she finished. He wasn't sure entirely what she meant but he realized she was leaving.
"Drusilla, I'll burn it down if that's what you want."
She smiled wanly, flattered by the generous offer. "Look for me here when you've outshined them all, dear, and we'll strip you naked as you should be."
Sylar stood away, confused and infatuated and amazed. Drusilla gracefully folded her cardigan shut again and blew him a kiss before gliding out of the alley.
It started raining before Sylar moved out of the alley. He pulled his coat shut around him to block out the cool rain. Drusilla had asked him to come back there. To outshine them all and come back to her. He had a lot of work to do first. It started in Los Angeles.