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The Sixth Extinction

Character(s): Gabriel "Sylar" Gray and Claire Bennet
Summary: Building 26 is never shut down. No one convinces the president that it's best to just drop the matter of evolved humans, and Danko is given cart blanche to deal with the super-powered threat as he sees fit. In the next century the Evolved are hunted to the brink of extinction, either out-right exterminated, or imprisoned and exploited for their ability. The number of specials used in this way grows fewer and fewer as time and mishaps progress, but one type is still coveted above all. Exterminating a regenerator is exceedingly difficult, anyway...
Status: In progress/PRIVATE

...all my foolish, fuckin' wishing...Collapse )


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Nov. 30th, 2009 08:23 am (UTC)
"Some one else? Some one else who won't sell you out to Shenoy at the first opportunity or blackmail you with that possibility for what you can do? Some one else who knows that you're not just a freak? Who won't run scared if you grow back a limb? Who can put the agents of the company and the government in the ground if they come looking for you?" Sylar unlocked his ankles and sat forward, elbows on his knees, perched over her.

He was definitely trying out a bit of blackmail. The emotional sort. Reminding her what a cruel world they lived in, how full of uncertainty and betrayal. Shenoy wouldn't have even known where to look for him if it hadn't been for just such a knife in the back, the kind that left wounds deep beneath the skin no matter how well the surface seemed to heal.
Nov. 30th, 2009 02:26 pm (UTC)
This was already getting to her. Having someone speak to her while knowing who she was. Someone who once knew her family and friends, someone who calls her Claire. It had been so long since anyone had called her by her given name and she was honestly liking it too much.

"I was doing fine without anyone's help." She said coldly, a bit pissed that he had yet to pick her up from the floor. "I was caught because I got careless. What about you, Sylar? Where did you fuck up?"
Nov. 30th, 2009 11:22 pm (UTC)
His eyes fell closed, savoring that... Sylar. It's what he considered himself, always held on to that name, but almost no one now knew it. Certainly no one ever spoke it to him, the way no one now likely called her Claire. He didn't know if she avoided her name or not though. It was common enough. 'Sylar', on the other hand, was too rare, had too much history.

He probably looked like someone had just uncoiled a tight knot between his shoulders, slightly pained, greatly pleasured, relieved. He barely even noticed her anger now, her accusation that he'd failed some how. It took a moment for him to come back to that, just answering quietly, "I trusted... to the ignorance of another," his eyes open with a soft focus that looks somewhat beyond her, though meets her hazel-green eyes. "You and I are both more than aware that in spite of my best efforts, I can and do make mistakes."

He sits up and gestures, very much like a puppeteer, manipulating her invisible strings to lift her from the floor and seat her on the edge of the bed. He keeps her upright after that without overly conscious effort, letting his hands return to the chair's armrests.
Nov. 30th, 2009 11:44 pm (UTC)
"Stop it!" She immediately hissed, wiggling slightly as if she could throw the feeling of being telekinetically touched off her body. She hated that feeling. Almost as much as she hated him. It reminded her of too many bad things.
Nov. 30th, 2009 11:51 pm (UTC)
"You preferred the floor?" He raised and eyebrow, but ignored her demand, leaving her seated. "You can't defy me, Claire, not in your current condition," he smiles, a ghost of the expression with no true warmth or even real malice in it. "Choose your battles. Take advantage of my hospitality, such as it is, until the chance to turn the tables on me presents itself," he still remembers the steps to this dance all too well.
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:01 am (UTC)
"I don't want to choose any battle at all. I don't want to be here. I don't need you nor to I want to need you. So stop." Claire may have been weak and fragile, but that fire had returned to her glare and she had no problem trying her best to defy him.

"I don't want you to help me, Sylar. Ever." She said again, trying a second time to stand and just managing it. Her legs were terribly weak and her muscles probably wouldn't be able to take her as far as the brunette's front door, but she would try her hardest. SHe only made it a few steps before wobbling violently, about to take another spill.
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:13 am (UTC)
"And what about mine, Claire-bear?" No telekinetic hold, just strong, familiar, long-lost hands on her shoulders, holding her up, keeping her from taking that spill. This was probably the most evil thing the Intuitive could do, the dirtiest trick in his book, but he played it with no more guilt or reservation than when he killed.
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:17 am (UTC)
A snide smile spread wide across the blond's face as she looked up in to the eyes a her father. Tears were already falling, not from sadness or mourning, but from sheer anger.

"And you wonder why I couldn't ever want you." She shook her head, looking away from that dead face and just letting the bastard hold her for a moment.
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:53 am (UTC)
"I thought you might take some comfort in it," he answered, returning to his own form as she looked away. "Better than a photograph. I could be almost anyone, your mother, Nathan, Peter." He was almost sure she wouldn't take him up on the offer, but he himself has used this ability more than once or twice to resurrect the faces and voices of the past.

He refused to admit it in so many words, but Sylar was a terribly lonely demon. It was almost certainly why he'd taken Claire, why he kept her now. He missed everything that he remembered. It was comforting to know she knew that history, too.
Dec. 1st, 2009 12:57 am (UTC)
"Peter?" That had caught her attention. Claire certainly knew the loneliness that Sylar suffered from. She dealt with it every day. Once she'd heard the name of the man she most missed, the one who chose to die... Her uncle...

Her hero.

Her eyes lit up with something other than rage.
Dec. 1st, 2009 01:58 am (UTC)
"I do my best impression of his brother, for obvious reasons... But..." By now his transitions were fluid. His body knew how to rearrange its materials into different forms, especially those that weren't too dissimilar from his own. Becoming Peter Petrelli was like styling his hair forward instead of back, and in a moment he stood half a head shorter, a quirky pull to his mouth as it broke into a tentative sort of smile, brows lifting in askance. "Better?"
Dec. 1st, 2009 02:03 am (UTC)
It took a long moment before Claire spoke again. Her eyes remained fixed on the brunette before her and she took him in, like the water Sylar had given her earlier. She just looked at him, glared even until slowly, her arms came up and wrapped around the man's middle to pull him closer, the smile on her face now completely genuine.

She knew that she was being greedy and that she was allowing herself a lie, but she didn't care. She missed them all so very much and he smelt the same... so familiar. Something she hadn't had in what felt like forever.

"A little." She whispered softly against the brunette's shirt, thankful to just enjoy a fantasy for a moment.
Dec. 1st, 2009 02:12 am (UTC)
"You deserve a bit of normal and familiar after what you've been through," Peter's voice, Peter's intonation. Sylar had been familiar enough with the Empath to know how to fake it, and as long as he kept the cold twist out of the words it was terribly convincing indeed.

He hugged her like she was family, like he was protective of her and just wanted her to feel better, never mind the lust for vengeance against their wrong-doers. With his cheek pillowed on her hair he told her, "There's soup warming on the stove if you're hungry?" He could only imagine how famished she must be with the state she'd been in. Given his talents he didn't usually worry about his next meal, even if he technically didn't need to eat.
Dec. 1st, 2009 02:22 am (UTC)
Her stomach answered for her, growling sickeningly loud. She reached down and touched her belly, the flesh slightly distended from not eating. This was what she needed right now and anything to make her feel a little better was infinitely more acceptable than arguing with Sylar.

He wasn't Sylar... it was Peter taking care of her... her uncle... not her tormentor.

"Yes, please..." Her voice had lost all of it's hatred and she moved away from him, wobbly-kneed and sat back down on the bed. "Just a little." She knew that if she pigged out, she'd probably be sick. This was so much better...

That was, until she caught her reflection in the mirror by the dresser. Her face paled again and she looked away, cringing at the sight of herself. How could she have been so stupid to let those people do this to her?

Dec. 1st, 2009 03:56 am (UTC)
"Hey," he reached out and, caught her chin, brushing her sunken cheek gently. "Don't even worry about that. It's not that bad, and it'll get better, fast. Just settle in and I'll be right back."

He trotted out to the kitchen to get her a bowl of the chicken porridge and a glass of apple juice. He wasn't happy staying in another person's form, preferred to be himself, but if it kept her here a little longer then he would play the part for now.
Dec. 1st, 2009 04:02 am (UTC)
Claire had just nodded and laid herself back down while Pete... no, Sylar went about gathering up her meal. It was comforting to have the form of her beloved uncle taking care of her, even though she knew it wasn't real.

When the brunette returned, she sat up and took the bowl happily, a small frown on her lips as the smell of real food turned her stomach a bit. She knew that it was because she hadn't eaten in so damn long and that no matter how bad she felt, she HAD to eat.

"Thank you." She gave the man who was not Peter a small smile, sipping the apple juice before settling against the pillows and slowly beginning to take in her first dinner in two years.
Dec. 1st, 2009 04:15 am (UTC)
"You're more than welcome, to anything, Claire," he smiles and returns to his chair, sitting with a casual looseness, but refraining from the quirks of positioning that are Sylar's habit. "My home's yours."
Dec. 1st, 2009 04:25 am (UTC)
He was doing a good job. Claire continued to tell herself not to get too lost in the falsehood in front of her, but Sylar was damn convincing. She smiled at him and began to tuck in, keeping quiet so that she could focus on the small bowl in front of her. It took a while and the porridge was cold by the time she finished, but she felt infinitely better once she ate.

"I think I'm going to rest some more." She finally said, putting the bowl on the night stand next to the bed and settling back down. "Thank you."

Even though this whole situation was terrible unnerving and strange, just having 'Peter' sitting there made her feel a bit better as she closed her eyes for another well need rest.
Dec. 1st, 2009 04:55 am (UTC)
He took the bowl when she had closed her eyes to sleep again, going to the kitchen to wash it out. He decided to get some rest while she did and stretched out on the sofa, folding his arms over his stomach and shutting his eyes. Memories played behind the lids, the Intuitive not really sleeping, but recharging his batteries just the same.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:03 am (UTC)
Claire slept for a long while, not waking until well into the next day. When Sylar came to check on her, if he felt the need, he would find a much healthier looking girl. Granted, she was still rail thin, needing to build that back up over time, but her skin was back to the healthy pink it once was, her cheeks flushed from the warmth he covers she'd crawled under offered.

Her dreams were simple and barely memorable, but they were infinitely better than the ones she used to have. They were happy, so a small smirk played on her lips as she slept, a familiar scent in the sheets calming her more than she would have ever thought.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:22 am (UTC)
The pink cast to her unusually pale skin was gratifying when Sylar passed through. He shifted to his own form once beyond the door of the bathroom, stripped and stepped into shower. He hadn't had the chance to wash the feeling of being violated from his own skin and though he was affected less these days by these things it still helped, cleaning the impression of their hands and their needles away.

By the time he was out he was back in Peter's shape though, dressing in the lightest clothing he owned to affect more of the shorter man's impression. He came back out and stopped to look at Claire, watching the slight shift of her eyes beneath the lids. On impulse he reached out to touch her golden hair, nostalgia once again gripping him. Sometimes he wondered if it had been a good idea to steal forever.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:28 am (UTC)
"Peter wouldn't be touching my hair like that." Claire whispered, not opening her eyes to look at who she knew would be standing there. She had been awake since Sylar had stepped in the shower, but she remained tucked in and unmoving, her eyes closed from the monster she might see.

As her strength returned, not as much as she would have liked, her fear of Sylar began to dwindle slightly. He would always send a chill down her spine, but her irrational terror was now leaving her.

That didn't mean that she wanted to stay.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:36 am (UTC)
"I've missed you, that's all," he let go of the lock and smoothed her hair down more chastely, then moved away. "Been a long time, Claire."

He still had trouble talking to people. It didn't matter how long he was on this planet, it fact the longer he lived the worse it got. He often rolled his eyes at himself when he thought about it, but he suffered from a vampiric curse, falling further and further out of touch with the people he'd never really fit in with.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:40 am (UTC)
Claire opened her eyes and pushed herself up, watching the form of Peter Petrelli move across the room.

"Was that supposed to be my uncle or Sylar talking?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. Sylar had absolutely no reason to miss her. They hated each other. She was sure that the brunette had said it to cover for his follicle fondling.
Dec. 1st, 2009 05:52 am (UTC)
"...Take your pick," he admitted more easily behind the mask of another man's face. "Though there's not a lot of point to this," he gestured around the countenance of the younger Petrelli, "if you're going to talk to the man behind it."

He'd prefer it. He wanted her to stay, and it was easier if she wasn't always sneering at him, but he always preferred to be himself. He'd paid the price, dearly, and many times over to be who he really was meant to be. It cost him friends, family, safety and comfort, but it meant never compromising, never holding back.
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