sirenspull_logs | You always were the one to show me how

Entry tags:

You always were the one to show me how

Who: Sylar, Peter and special guest star Jesse
When: 20th April
Where: Jesse's apartment?
Summary: Who wants to find out what happens when serial killers get unleashed? Not Jesse.
Warnings: Violence, attempted murder. Possible mentions of further violence, smut and murder. Blood, death, sex and killing. Fun times.

[ Pride.

That was the only meaning behind his choice. Jesse hadn't done anything to merit the chase, the hunt. He wasn't the kind of victim that Sylar would have chosen otherwise--at least, not with Peter alongside him. More than once he'd threatened death and failed to follow through, and there were reasons for that; no least because Lucifer was right, if he wanted to stay free then he needed to be discreet, pick his victims carefully. This was spontaneous, and spontaneity meant mistakes. It meant not thinking through the plan, and what would happen when Jesse came back and remembered who had killed him.

None of it mattered--only the pride beating in his killing heart. He hadn't followed through, and now he would show them what he was made of. He would show them that he was a ruthless, capable killer. That he wasn't to be ridiculed or underestimated.

And he would have Peter alongside him; Peter whose hunger was burning so out of control that he had barely questioned the choice, but fallen quickly into step beside him. From there it had been easy--there were no preemptive measures to take. This kill was like a hawk sweeping in, pouncing out of the darkness without hesitation, stepping out of the shadows and taking its prey. Power and need unleashed. But oh, he was going to savour it. He was going to make Jesse regret every foolishly spoken word if it was the last thing he did. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Gluttony, greed -- two sins that Peter repressed more than any, and both went into boosting the hunger to heights that Peter was sure he'd never felt before. It was like back when he'd first acquired intuitive aptitude and everything surged into need and want, even if it was an ability he couldn't possess. When he tried to dig into Spike's head just because it was different, into Chuck's because he was keeping secrets. It didn't matter what was hidden, just that he wanted it. When everyone's brain was a sealed box that held a prize and Peter could do nothing but react at whim to an ability he didn't want.

It was like that only in the sense that it was infinitely worse. All Sylar had to do was breathe into his ear that there was something to be taken, that Sylar had something to prove, and Peter was suddenly fine tuned, tapped into nothing but the heightened hunger itself. Willing to do whatever it took to acquire more, to understand more and he was following along after the other man, a bundle of nerves that was nothing like the man he used to be. A man that was all intuitive aptitude, all hunger, all hunt.

And if Sylar said to attack, that's what he'd do.

The evening shadows were starting to pull longer across Jesse's apartment, and so that's where they were hidden, back into darkness of where they couldn't be seen. Peter held onto a disturbed sort of calm, staring off at nothing, waiting. There was no plan to this, no knowing, only wanting. And while that would have concerned him when he was of sound mind, right now, a plan was unnecessary when all there was, was to take. ]

[Jesse hadn't exactly been thinking strategically when he was scoping out houses, or he might not have chosen one with a side entrance into a dark, narrow alley. His mind wasn't on his safety, anyway. The duffel bag on his shoulder contained a fresh $6000 he had to go stash. And right now, as far as he was concerned, that money was more important than anybody looking to kick his ass for any reason.

He pulled out his keys as he came up the sidewalk and into the alley, but paused when he reached the front step. He looked toward the street, then toward the backyard, and ultimately settled on heading toward the back. He'd stash this load in the basement instead of the attic, he decided, and the stairs down to the basement were by the garden.]

[ It was simple enough to brush aside the shadows and come at him from another angle. The slightest scuff of a heel and the jingle of keys was enough to draw his attention, and Sylar led Peter through the darkness between concrete, plaster and brick as though there were nothing to it, as though they were merely shadows moving within shadows, insubstantial as the darkness itself.

They could watch Jesse from any and all vantage points, sometimes simultaneously, stalking and invisible, their attention heavy with the building thrum of hunger. He could feel Peter's attention like a sharp knife at the back of his own mind, the hunger at a fever pitch, though he had no real idea as to why. All he knew was that he had to be careful to keep control, especially if he wanted this to last.

They could only move in the shadows cast by the city; the greenery was out of bounds, but the basement steps were not, and the basement itself would make the perfect kill room, far away from the ears in the street above. It was a place where nobody could hear you scream. He waited until Jesse began down them, and then emerged from shadow, feet light on the top step, illuminated only as a silhouette, black against black. ]

Did you miss me?

[ Peter himself was long past wondering why exactly the hunger was raging like a cloud around his head if only because of expressly that same fact. He couldn't think past it, he wasn't even close to being Peter anymore. Hunger personified into madness, there was no reason to care about his humanity. Peter would have at least known where the hunger ended and his own morality began, he wouldn't have agreed to this just for the chance to go after someone. Peter needed a reason.

The hunger, however, did not. It only knew what there was to take, and what needed to be done to take it.

He would play follow the leader for as long as he could. Listen to Sylar obvious, but odd lack of instructions and follow a step behind. Sylar was at least managing to keep his hunger under control, though the same couldn't be said for his need to prove himself, not that Peter cared. Waiting a step behind Sylar, still molded into shadows, Peter was the cloud before the storm, brimming over with his own sickening predatory wants, no longer human and instead pure predator. But finally edging in behind Sylar, he was seconds away from just pushing Sylar forward.

What're we waiting for. Shot telepathically at Sylar, Peter wasn't having this patience and Jesse was right there. ]

[For all the self-righteous words Jesse had ever spoken to them, he was no hero. While in his mind this inevitable confrontation had always been an epic battle into which he marched bravely with his head held high, Jesse Pinkman at this moment did not surge forward to meet his enemies with eagerness, but instead tripped backwards over his own two feet and fell the rest of the way to land on top of the duffel bag... which hardly softened the blow but at least spared him a broken bone or five.

Cursing and rolling on the floor, his first instinct was to reach for his gun - despite knowing it was useless against them and more likely to be used against him. But this was muscle memory, and to his credit, he didn't fumble as he pulled the Beretta from his jacket pocket.]

[ His answer was simple, reflecting his mood, reflecting his need--a different need than usual. This wasn't about power, it wasn't about hunger.

Acknowledgement.

Sylar did not run down the stairs. He walked, taking his sweet time with each step, the click of his heels on cast concrete steps ominous. There were enough shadows to move easily, to whisper from the shadows with barely the slightest shiver of his silhouette, at once there and not, murmuring against Jesse's ear. ]

Go ahead. Try it.

[ An order for Peter: Behind him. ]

[ The words had barely siphoned into Peter's head when he was teleporting back a few feet behind Jesse, not even a second lost between. Which was vaguely problematic when it came to the fact that now his own personal opportunity to attack was staring him in the face. It seemed wrong that Sylar wasn't moving fast enough and if there was something that was prime to screw this all up, it was Peter's overbearing eagerness.

He could, Jesse was right there, who was going to stop him?

Shooting quick to Sylar was a frantic, 'Can I?' There was no plans, they hadn't talked about what they were going to do. Sylar hadn't taken Peter aside before they got here and told him what the steps were going to be and now the hunger was bursting at the seams, uninterested in waiting out Sylar's show of pride. ]

Shit... Shit, shit, shit...

[His finger's on the trigger but it's impossible to aim for Sylar, who keeps disappearing. Jesse holds the weapon like it's a lifeline, but in the end it's nothing. When he hears Sylar's words in his ear, his shoulders sag and the gun lowers until it's pointed at the floor.]

I don't got anything. I still don't got a power. You're, uh... You're wasting your time, yo. Okay? So... Like, try again later?

[ He could almost feel Peter's hunger, like a hot breath at the back of his neck. It put him on edge, as though there was an element of uncontrollability about all of this. He was meant to be the master of the hunt, but if Peter slipped then everything could go more than just horribly wrong. This was blood and murder, it was playing with more than just knives, more than just hunger, because when all was said and done someone was dead, and there would be conscience to deal with. Mistakes could cost them so much; too much.

Patience. Introduce yourself, take his gun, but don't hurt him. Do you hear me, Peter? He's ours now.

He'd reached the bottom of the stairs now, and with a flick of his hand he shut the door at the top of the stairs, slamming the bolt home on the outside. His eyes never left Jesse. ]

Just because you have a dormant ability doesn't mean you don't have one at all. That's what I thought, once, and look at me now.

[ But--

What was the point of having a conscience when the the hunger itself was infinitely more loud. And a battle between the two left Peter far more monster and much less human. He didn't have to listen, even though Sylar told him to, nothing was set in place to keep him from doing exactly what he wanted to. But hadn't Sylar said before that it was all about the hunt? Not rushing into things was what inevitably appeased the hunger, and Peter was trying, he was just failing miserably at it in the same breath.

Taking a step forward, not to be intimidating but to make his presence known, Peter's head canted to the side. ]

Everybody's got one, Jesse. [ He didn't even sound the same, unemotional and restrained, but only to taunt. Finally lifting a hand to the side, he gave the gun a small tug of telekinesis, merely intent on pulling it out of his hand for the time being. ]

Edited 2012-04-16 22:04 (UTC)

[Jesse let it go. His will to use it had been so low, anyway. Here, locked in his own basement with two telepathic serial killers, he had enough of a sense of where this was going. And just what would he be defending, anyway? Himself? That was hardly worth the fight.

Strangely, that gave him courage. That's right, even if he lost his life, it wouldn't be any loss at all. There was a whole world out there that would be better off without him - if this death turned out to be the permanent kind. But chances were he'd be back in a couple days, either way.

So, for now, all he really had to worry about was not shitting his pants.]

You know what, you guys? Whatever. You wanna go wasting your time with this shit, have at it. Don't blame me when you end up with a whole lotta nothing.

[ Sylar just watched for a moment longer. It was amazing that Peter's voice was even at all. No, this wasn't like the first time. ]

Keep the gun. [ This time his order was spoken out loud, so that Jesse could hear it. ] It might come in useful another time. You should always be prepared for the worst, understand?

[ He moved forward, stepping up to stand inches away from Jesse and raising his hand to the side of the other man's head, almost-but-not-quite touching him. Just a few seconds, and then he was withdrawing his hand, smiling darkly. ]

It isn't fair to kill you only for you to wake up still playing fetch. [ He looked thoughtful. ] How would you like us to do it, Jesse? Do you want it to be quick? Do you want it to mean something? We have all the time in the world, don't we, Peter?

[ Peter would recognize the fact that there was something incredibly wrong with this much later, but for the time being, all he was, was brutally impatient. His gaze was focused sharply on the back of Jesse's head, even though he was trying to tell himself there was supposed to be a reason for all this waiting.

Sylar had said not to hurt him, to be patient, but neither of those things had a part in the hunger's agenda.

Easily filtering out most of Sylar's words, save for the ones involving directions he was supposed to be taking, he shoved the gun into his back pocket and then continued to wonder what the hell he was waiting for. Fingers tensing and relaxing at his sides, the only word that he managed to catch of the other man's was his own name, his focus pulling back as he looked up with a dazed sort of 'huh' expression, blinking twice at Sylar before he was looking at Jesse all over again. ]

Right. [ Peter, however, did not have all the time in the world. Nor did he sound like it. But at least he still wasn't moving yet. ]

[They didn't have all the time in the world. Lisbeth would eventually come back, though her schedule was unpredictable. It could be five minutes or it could be days from now, when the gore resulting from all of this would have begun to rot and stink throughout the entire house. Jesse didn't want to think about that. He didn't want her to discover this, in progress or afterwards. But the best he could hope for was that she'd arrive too late to run into these two and end up a second victim.

Sylar playing with him like this was doing a good job of turning what remained of his fear into anger. Was this the part where he was supposed to fall to his knees and beg? Not going to happen. He jutted his chin out, picked his head up, and met Sylar's eyes.]

Do I want it to mean something? Alls this is is you sick homos getting off. It don't mean anything. If you're gonna waste me, then waste me. Cut the bullshit already.

[He turned his head to look at Peter. Peter, who he'd thought would be the decent one. A good guy, even. Peter, now practically salivating while staring at him. Fucking freak. The next words were directed at him:]

Well? What're you waiting for?

[ Peter, in all truth, would never have agreed to this just to take a shot at Jesse, or for any other reason. Morally, he wouldn't have been able to come up with an excuse, even a shaky one, to go after the other man -- sure, they didn't get along, but that wasn't a reason quite like a bounty was.

This, this was wrong, but Peter wasn't Peter anymore. He hadn't felt like himself in days and he didn't know where he'd gone, or why the hunger was raging as badly as it was, but it didn't matter. Just like Sylar's telling him to be patient didn't matter as soon as Jesse turned on him.

And then egged him on.

It was all Peter needed, because what was he waiting for? Absolutely nothing. He wasn't here to make conversation or to see if he could get Jesse to fight back or give in or cower in fear. Peter didn't need to prove anything. All he was here for was to crack Jesse's head open so he could get inside and Peter's vision blew out wide as he lifted a palm, fully intending to push out hard with telekinesis and turn Jesse to slam him up against the nearest wall. ]

[ If Sylar was here because of his pride, then it was being snubbed viciously by the other man's words. He wasn't prepared to let Jesse die until he'd eaten them, until he cowered from Sylar's power and trembled, acknowledged him as greater, as better, or at least screamed and meant it. Right now he was just pathetic. Small and pathetic.

He was about to speak when Jesse turned on Peter, and at once he knew what was going to happen. Peter was raging out of control, and he stepped forward too slowly to stop Peter from shoving Jesse against the wall--but not too slowly to reach out, throwing his own wall of telekinesis at Peter to shover him into the wall ninety degrees from Jesse. He took over the grip that kept their victim pinned, but caught Peter in turn, one hand raised toward each of them.

And Sylar tipped his head toward Jesse, teeth bared, furious. ]

No. You keep your eyes on me.

[ He shot a glare at Peter. ]

What do you think you're doing?

[Jesse felt like a toy being fought over by two bratty kids. The sensation was made all the weirder by the opposing telekinetic forces in the room, all the holding and shoving these two were doing with their minds alone.

At the very least, he'd succeeded in pissing Sylar off. The demand to look at him only made Jesse keep his eyes stubbornly averted.]

[ Before Peter could even start to do what he'd planned on, he was being shoved sideways, colliding hard with the wall and trying desperately to push back, to sink his teeth back into his badly formed plan.

Even so, it took one, two blinks for him to clear his vision enough so that he could stare hard back at Sylar and realize what had happened, what Sylar had done and it was infuriating as much as it was confusing. Peter didn't know why he was so out of control, but one more look at Jesse and his vision was clouding over once again. He didn't know how to explain to Sylar what he was doing, because all he knew was what he wanted and Sylar was supposed to understand that. ]

What does it look like. [ He grumbled under his breath, still staring down his direct route to Jesse. Too much longer in Sylar's telekinetic hold and he was going to figure his way out of it like he'd done before -- phasing backwards or freezing time. ]

[ He was under too much pressure holding both of them to do much more than shoot a glare at Jesse before turning his attention wholly on Peter. He approached him, eyes sharp, raising him telekinetically away from the wall just as he had before, using the tricks he'd learnt in his playfighting with Peter to hold him prisoner now. ]

This isn't about killing him. It's about making sure he understands his place. His worth. Look at us, Peter. We're evolution's masterpiece--and what is he? A worm. Slime on a rock. He should look up to us and tremble.

A quick death is too good for him.

[ He let Peter go, wholly expecting the other man to listen to him now. ]

Either we do this on my schedule, or you can go home, and I'll do it without you.

[That really pissed him off. He knew he was no superhero. Hell, he wasn't even a supervillain. Lackey, that's what guys like him were called, and he was a lackey so worthless that even his boss had sold him out to a bunch of Mexicans in the middle of nowhere. That was his place and he knew it. He wasn't stupid.

Yet, despite all of that, Jesse knew he was better than these two. He was scum, undeniably someone who needed to get got. But at least he wasn't like them, taunting and bickering over their kill, making a whole big production out of it like it mattered to anybody.]

Yo, the little bitch is right. Stop dicking around and get it done. You ain't gonna make me understand shit. I understand already. You got it in your head that this - this whole torture and murder thing - you think there's something special about it. But there ain't. You know, animals do this shit all the time on the Discovery Channel. What you're talking about, putting me in my place... That ain't gonna happen. You can drag it all out nice and slow and alls that'll do is convince me I'm right. You ain't gonna earn your serial killer merit badge from me. Killing me is the easiest thing in the world, fast or slow.

[ Practically everything that Jesse said flew directly over Peter's head, save for the part about whether or not this could be taken fast or slow, a fact he knew perfectly well. Because if this was Peter's choice, it would be over already, and they'd be going home, the hunger hopefully appeased. Instead, he was left seething on the spot, desperately wanting to shake Sylar and tell him to just get on with it, because the raucous voice of the hunger rattling around in his head was painful. Sylar should know that, he should understand, and yet he was just given an ultimatum.

If he didn't behave, he was going to get sent home, a fate far worse than trying to figure out where his patience had run off to.

Staring up desperately at Sylar, trying to get him to understand through mere eye contact alone that this wasn't even remotely easy for him, Peter finally dropped his gaze and stared at the floor -- even looking at Jesse was too dangerous. ] Fine, but he's not gonna get it.

[ Sylar knew he'd made his point now, even if Peter looked up at him with the kind of desperation that said that he was clinging to his sanity by a scrappy edge. That was the only reason why he made Peter his priority, and when he tilted his head back toward Jesse at last, it was as he moved around Peter, found his shoulders and directed him across the basement to where the other man was still held, pinned up against the wall.

There was one other thing he was proud of, after all.]

I didn't give you permission to talk.

[ Sylar exhaled slowly, considering his options. Jesse was right, in most ways. He would probably never break; he already knew he was nothing. But he wasn't going to let him talk like that to him any more. He tightened his telekinetic grip, just enough to keep him from talking, not breathing. ]

Don't kill him. Show me how precise you can make the incision. Across his forehead, but not through it. This is just like the Discovery Channel. Show him how we hunt, Peter.

[Jesse had said just about everything he had to say, so he didn't bother fighting the compulsion to stop talking. It looked like they were finally going to begin, anyhow. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as he mentally braced himself. This would be nothing. He could get through this. Like he got through Tuco beating him into a three-day coma, or when that asshole DEA agent who turned his face into pulp. Fists hurt more than knives, didn't they? And this would be more like knives. More like boxcutters. And he remembers boxcutters. There was a lot of blood, but it was fast. It wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing was going home after that. Every time. Every time he survived, that was the worst.

His eyes locked not on Sylar, but on Peter.]

[ In this state of mind, Peter was nothing but a fantastically good weapon. Granted, he was much more of a shoot to kill then a shoot to torture sort of weapon, but at this point it was so far out of his hands that there was little he could do. Sylar had told him he could have nothing if he didn't cooperate, and so he was cooperating, if only because he'd been promised more.

He could hardly be bothered to be grumpy about it -- the hunger itself was an insidiously powerful drug. Took away all ability to be moral or human or care about something that wasn't what he wanted. So Jesse could stare at Peter all he wanted, because while Peter was staring back, he wasn't seeing. Focused intrinsically on Jesse, eye contact was a joke, he was more focused on the destination of his instructions then on what he was about to do.

Because it was easy, terribly so. All Peter had to do was lift a hand, two fingers pointed towards Jesse's forehead. A sight tip to his own head, it only took a sweeping gesture of razor-edged telekinesis that was perfectly capable of cutting through bone to slash through skin and nothing else beyond it. It made the hunger rage in his head, tempting him to do so much more, but he did only as he was told, lowering his hand a moment later. ]

[ Sylar released his grip on Jesse's throat with a certain glee, wrapping an arm around Peter's waist and watching the other man work over his shoulder. He could see that Jesse was looking straight at Peter, perhaps hoping to make it clear to him how wrong this was, or appeal to his better nature. He didn't think too long on his reasoning that it probably should, that it wasn't like Peter to want to go after someone innocent.

The problem was it didn't matter right now. None of it did. The only thing he cared about was his own pride, his own satisfaction in seeing the weapon that he had made Peter into at play. He nosed into his hair, just above his ear, and sighed softly. ]

Beautiful. And now it's my turn.

[ He raised his hand level to Peter's, ready to cut. This time he would scratch the surface of bone, but again not cut through it. He would leave the killing blow for Peter. But not yet. Not yet. Pain first, then gloating--killing later. ]

Edited 2012-04-18 06:35 (UTC)

[He was right. It wasn't so bad. An invisible blade drawing across his skin... He flinched at first, but then it was like any other pain: he got used to it. He couldn't tell how deep it went, but blood began to seep from the wound and into his eyes so he assumed the worst, despite Sylar's instructions. It was only after the moment passed that he realized he could still see, still think and feel, and so he probably couldn't be dead. His breathing had taken on a ragged quality and he realized he was growling. His voice had returned.]

Yeah... Yeah, come on. Do it, bitch.

[ Breathing evenly, albeit tensely, Peter's patience was walking a tight rope, easily pushed one way or another. Jesse's own interest in dying wasn't helping matters, if anything it was making the hunger twice as bad, distracting Peter from Sylar's earlier promise. Because it was the hunger that still wanted to scream at Sylar and tell him to get on with it, Peter was just along for the ride - more like he was locked in the trunk for all his conscience mattered - and until the killing actually got under way, Peter couldn't have been less interested in the torture.

Though, the prospects of it being Sylar's turn meant that maybe he'd do it. Peter supposed he wasn't the one who had to kill to appease the hunger, as long as the raging in his head could be stopped. Sylar could do it just as well, even better than him, and so he tipped his head slightly, glancing up towards the other man before shooting a look back over to Jesse. Watching Sylar with wide eyes, on this side of fascination, Peter wanted to take it all in. Every second. ]

[ Better. That was better; Peter was paying attention now, and that was what he wanted. He smiled, cooly, keeping his head tilted in toward Peter's temple as he drew the line across, perfectly parallel with the line Peter had made, only beneath the surface, scoring an accurate line across bone--a perforation, not a cut. It wouldn't cause any pain, but it was a demonstration of skill that he took pure, indecent pride in.

He drew away from Peter's side to cross toward the other man, closing the gap between them, hand flicking upward to raise hise Jesse's helpless limbs.

When he closed at last, he placed his fingertips to his throat, feeling the rushing of his heart beneath his fingers. ]

Shock, horror.

[ Bzap! A powerful burst of electricity, telekinesis tightening to hold Jesse still as he shocked him. ]

[Again, Jesse expected that invisible knife to slice clean through his brain. But he found that he was able to keep staring, keep watching the two of them while they took in the sight of him with blood pouring down his face and soaking into his shirt. He couldn't even tell whether he was feeling fresh pain or not. Adrenaline was kicking in and all he felt was ready - ready to die or ready to kick their asses if they somehow failed to kill him.

As Sylar approached, Jesse mentally drew himself up (because he couldn't prepare his body for this battle, no) and looked past Sylar, not at him.

When he felt Sylar touch his throat, he expected to be strangled. Instead, he found out the guy was really a human taser. And the scream that erupted from Jesse was so loud that a neighbor's dog began to bark in response, somewhere in the distance. His entire body - every nerve - felt like it was on fire and there was no more pretense of bravery or invincibility.

And then something else happened: a change he felt but couldn't pinpoint.]

[ And with that change, everything began to fall apart.

Just like Sylar's telekinesis, which seemingly stopped working without reason. It took Peter a couple of blinks to register the fact that Jesse was no longer being held up -- he'd dropped back down to the floor and there was something incredibly wrong with that. Sylar's telekinesis was more finely tuned than Peter's, and there was nothing in the world that could get in between apart from a Void. And yet Sylar has just used electricity, so that wasn't it.

Was it Jesse?

Peter didn't take a step back, didn't exactly falter - the hunger kept him from doing that - but there was something wrong and it wasn't something Peter felt like messing with any further. Sylar either had to kill Jesse now or come up with a different plan entirely and Peter wasn't sure he liked the second option too terribly much. ]

Sylar. [ His voice was hard, but there was an undercurrent of concern, impeding doom to it. As much as Sylar wanted this to mean something, taking his time was no longer an option. ]

[ He felt such pride when Jesse screamed - broken at last - except that a moment later he was falling out of his grip, his telekinesis not weakened but gone. Twice he tried to reach for it again, throwing up his hand, concentrating on the power harder than he could concentrate on anything. But this wasn't Voiding - it wasn't just out of his reach - it was actually gone.

Panicked, he drew back, shooting a glance over his shoulder toward Peter, then back toward Jesse. He could do this without telekinesis, just like the first time, but that wasn't the point. Jesse had done something to him. ]

Stay back.

[ His first thought was for Peter, terrified that the same would happen to him. With a growl he reached for Jesse's collar, tightening his grip on it, his offensive physical, nothing more. ]

What did you do? Stop it. Stop it right now.

[Jesse couldn't answer if he knew how. Every muscle in his body was contracted because of the shock, his jaw clamped so tight a crowbar couldn't have pried it open. The burning pain continued through every limb and he wasn't even sure what they were reacting to; he thought he was still being electrocuted. He made a noise in his throat like he was trying to respond but he was halfway unconscious and maybe he was really just trying, unsuccessfully, to keep screaming.]

[ It only made it that much worse that Sylar was panicking, because that meant that he had about as much of an idea as to what was going on as Peter did. And Sylar always knew, or at the very least he was always supposed to know, and watching him try to shake answers out of a nearly catatonic Jesse was going to get them nowhere fast. ]

Sylar. [ Voice frantically edged, Peter didn't know how to help. Maybe if they'd prepared for this a little bit better... but they hadn't, and now he was lost. He wasn't going to kill Jesse unless Sylar said he could, and he wasn't going to do anything else until he understood what had just happened. But the hunger was raging intolerably behind his eyes, making it impossible to think rationally much past wanting what he'd come here for. ]

If we don't kill him now, we need to go. In case it happens again. [ Moving forward, he wasn't even sure if he should touch Sylar and he hesitated with his hand hovering nearby, his gaze still stone-cold set onto Jesse. ] He'll know we were here whatever we do.

[ This time was different. The panic of losing his telekinesis stopped him from doing more than working out that Jesse was responsible; beyond that his intuition fractured with his self-control, and he turned his eyes up to Peter. The fear didn't subside. When he did look back at Jesse, he raised his hand toward him again, but still nothing happened. Nothing.

He rubbed at his temple. Everything was going wrong. And they had to get out of here--they had to go otherwise things would get worse. He couldn't just leave things as they were, though.

Much as he didn't want to touch Jesse again, for fear that he'd get a second introduction to whatever the other man had done, there was no choice. He couldn't leave him with his memories of this. Not all of them, at least. So he reached out with his telepathy, reached into Jesse's fried brain, shifting and changing where he needed to so that it was only Sylar who had attacked him, so that he wouldn't remember Peter's involvement. Yes, Jesse would remember someone was here--but it wouldn't be Peter.

When he stepped back, he pulled Peter into the shadows with him without a word, took him back home to their apartment; back to where they were safe. ]

[ Gaze still flicking back and forth between Sylar and Jesse, Peter wanted to shake the other man and tell him to just let him kill Jesse, why were they still wasting time. It didn't make any sense to be here if they weren't going to finish what they'd started. He'd do it quick, he promised, but Sylar was obviously taking care of Jesse's brain before Peter was even allowed to have any input. ]

Now can we-- [ But then the other man was grabbing him and dragging him off, Peter's eyes suddenly going terribly wide. He couldn't just leave, not with his hunger seconds away from being fed and Peter just about put a fight as he was dragged back through shadows, returning home. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You always were the one to show me how

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject