hackthis_archive | Heroes - It's What all the Post-Post-Modern Villains Are Wearing (Sylar/Mohinder, Mohinder/Matt, R)

I am a great believer in paying it forward. Today I received one of the most awesome birthday presents EVAR from

heidi8, and so I felt it my duty to write

sparky77 something she requested for her birthday. I take no responsibility for the crack someone else requests; I just put it down on paper.

Heroes
Spoilers through 2.03
Sylar/Mohinder, Mohinder/Matt, R

It's What all the Post-Post-Modern Villains Are Wearing

i.
The first order of business is for Sylar to get his powers back. This powerless business is bullshit.

ii.
The second order of business is to get Mohinder back. This Mohinder-less business is even more bullshit.

iii.
Sylar doesn't like bullshit. Even Gabriel has a certain distaste for all this paperwork and recuperation and convalescence. He can't believe he killed that fat girl and didn't get her powers. He doesn't know what pisses him off more, that he didn't get the power or --

No, there is no 'or'.

Sylar wanted and Sylar didn't get. Sylar is displeased.

Bad things happen when Sylar is displeased.

iv.
It's so much easier to kill people than the papers and the doctors (Chandra) give credit for. No one ever gave Gabriel enough credit (his mother excluded); this is why Sylar is in charge now. This is why Sylar bled all over the people they sent to subdue him. It hurts a little, but Sylar doesn't like being subdued.

v.
He has to stop thinking about himself in third person. It's becoming confusing. There is no Gabriel. There is no Zane. There is just him. This is not a fucking committee.

vi.
Of course they wouldn't send anyone with good powers to subdue him.

What the hell is he supposed to do with wings? They're itchy. And irritating. Gabriel could never have pets because of his allergies; Sylar can't stop sneezing. The wings are very shiny though. Very very shiny. And black. But mostly they're just shiny.

vii.
Having wings is not a real ability. Having wings that display a black light that picks up the genetics of a 'differently-abled person'. Well, now, this is something to write home about. If he wrote home. Or had a home. Or someone to write to. Mohinder will care though. Mohinder will always care. Sylar will make him care.

viii.
It takes Sylar a couple of tries to figure out how the wings work apart from the itching and the flapping and the sneezing. The black light reads DNA. The black light makes 'special' people turn blue. It's a blood test without the blood.

What's the good of testing if there's no blood?

Sylar likes the blood part.

ix.
Sylar didn't have a mother. Sylar had watches. Sylar was an immaculate conception. Sylar was always there just waiting on Gabriel to get out of his way; that was his ability. Chandra was a foolish, blind old man (he couldn't even appreciate Mohinder). It doesn't matter though; Sylar doesn't have to dwell on these things. Sylar has wings. He can fly. He can find. Sylar is evolution at its finest. Mohinder will be so pleased -- but first, first Sylar must prepare himself. It would never do to show up without a gift. He's been away a long time; Mohinder will be upset. Sylar wonders if the wings are enough of a surprise.

x.
It takes him ten days, fifteen hours and thirty-six minutes to assemble a proper collection of abilities. They're not the same set he collected before, but he's on a bit of a time-crunch. He's sure Mohinder has been waiting for him, and he can't have that. So, if he has to trade the metal melting for pyrotechnics or the super-hearing for super-speed, well, concessions have to be made sometimes. The telekinesis is non-negotiable. It's what takes the other nine days and fifteen hours for him to find.

xi.
Thirteen abilities aren't the same as twenty-six, but the wings are very helpful with his multi-tasking. They find, he kills. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. When the black light shines, he can see the blood of all his victims spattered on his wings. It shouldn't be as erotic as it is, but the wings are growing on him. Sylar can't help but pet the wings; they really are very shiny.

xii.
Mohinder was supposed to wait for him. He was supposed to be pining. He wasn't supposed to create a 21st Century nuclear family while Sylar was gone. He's not supposed to be fucking some tubby flatfoot. The flatfoot is touching what belongs to Sylar. The growling in Sylar's throat makes his feathers ruffle with disapproval. The cop has to go; Sylar will spare the little girl. He doesn't want Mohinder to be completely displeased with him.

xiii.
The cop is messy. Blood gets everywhere. All over Sylar's hair, all over his wings, all over the leather pants that he bought to surprise Mohinder.

xiv.
Mohinder comes home late. He looks tired. He has circles under his eyes and the artful stubble isn't looking as artful as it used to. Sylar stands in the corner, his wings taking up entirely too much space, as usual. They make it very hard for him to surprise people. Apparently, though, they're excellent protection from people carrying guns.

Surprise.

-end-

Title and concept by the birthday girl. Happy Birthday

sparky77!!!