Howler to Sylar

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

After treating Susan, Lily felt it her duty, as a Professor, to take care of a little matter. A school owl was sent out, then, posthaste.



Mr. Sylar ~

It has come to my attention that you have felt the need to RIP OPEN OTHER STUDENT'S HEADS IN ORDER TO ATTACK THEIR BRAINS.

THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOUR. YOU WILL CEASE AND DESIST ANY AND ALL BRAIN-SEEKING ACTIVITIES IMMEDIATELY.

DO NOT DOUBT THAT YOUR STAY HERE WILL BE UNPLEASANT IF YOU INSIST ON CONTINUING IN THIS MANNER. IT IS NOT POLITE TO ATTEMPT TO STEAL YOUR PEERS' BRAINS. IF YOU ARE LACKING IN BRAINS, YOURSELF, THIS IS NOT THE WAY TO GO ABOUT PROCURING SOME OF YOUR OWN.

AS A CONSEQUENCE OF YOUR ACTIONS, I AM TAKING FIFTY POINTS FROM BITCHIWITCH AND ASSIGNING YOU A WEEK OF DETENTIONS.

Arrive in my office at six pm, sharp. I will give you your assignment at that time.

~ Professor Evans
Defense Against the Dark Arts

Comments

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

It wasn't often Sylar allowed himself to actually hate people. There were people he disliked, to great extremes. Hiro Nakamura, and his stupid little stabbing spree back in Kirby plaza, for instance. There were disappointments, people that fascinated him that let him down all-together too shortly. Like Eden McCain, blowing her brains out before he could get inside her head. And then there was Noah Bennet, in a category of his own, locking him in a cell for days, weeks - felt like years - and pumping him full of so many drugs that he couldn't even muster up the energy to breathe, some days.

Lily Evans was very quickly making herself a seat in that category. She'd best look out.

He had two options at this juncture, basically. He could just not listen to her. Throw the wand across the room. Throw her across the room. Stab her straight through with her very own quills and office objects. Macabre art in the shade of pure crimson. No, really. It could get entirely interesting. Could even top the job he'd done on Molly Walker's parents, should he feel the need.

But Lily Evans' death was also no guarantee that this... condition would be lifted. These abilities didn't exactly work like the heroes that he knew back in the states. They had to use a wand ot make them work, for the most part. And... it wasn't limited, to one single ability or something. He'd been doing his research. It wasn't favoring him so well.

He would've narrowed his eyes at her if he could manage. This would be so much more convincing if he was glaring.

The old piece of paper crumpled up, tossing off into the side - and nearly even making it into the wastebasket - before another quill lifted, irritably skritching out a few more words. It would be a little easier to cooperate if I wasn't hexed, Professor Evans, but I assure you there will be less... smashing.

Was that convincing enough? He just really wanted to get off the floor.

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

If there was one thing Lily could recognize, it was hatred. That loathing so pure that it translated into the icy cold desire to end someone's life. She'd experienced it in many shades over the course of her life; it radiating from Sylar only served to cement his similarity to the Death Eaters in Lily's mind. For a long moment, Lily studied him. Just a flicker of a thought sent out, an idea that she might use her admittedly tenuous Legilimency skills on him. But she rejected it as soon as it occurred to her. She wasn't strong enough to take Sylar on, should he prove to be anything better than a fledgling Occlumens.

Instead, she flicked her wand in his direction, silently lifting the body-bind. "That is a simple spell, and one of the more mild hexes I know. Believe me, Mr. Sylar, you do not want to experience the rest." One eyebrow lifted slightly. "Now. Will you be going about, attempting to rip open people's skulls and forcing me to make your life a living hell from whence you will not emerge unscathed? Or can I assume you are actually more intelligent than you would appear?"

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

That probably wouldn't have been the best of ideas, no. Attempting to read Sylar's mind...? He couldn't have promised that she would have made it out of the room without a limb snapped completely in two. Because he probably would have caught onto what she was doing, before she could get any worthwhile information, and he had no patience for mind-reading, not at this juncture.

At least he wasn't frozen. There wasn't that contemptible helpless feeling overtaking him anymore.

There was that hate, still, though. Lily Evans had belittled him, made him feel useless - something he hadn't felt in a long time - and he couldn't take that too lightly at heart. He climbed smoothly back to his feet, brushing off the front of his shirt and lifting eyes to her that were hooded with pure venom. He hadn't been stopped by an entire team of FBI agents and an armored truck, transporting Ted Sprague to a prison facility. He was not going to be stopped by some stupid little girl.

He could have prompted back so many dry remarks. It would be so easy. But that wand still in her fingers was making him pause, gaze flickering briefly to the one little piece of wood that could do so much damage. The wand led back to Lily's eyes, which he studied for a few long seconds, that tint in them that almost seemed as though she knew exactly just what he was up to. He had never met this woman before in his life. She couldn't possibly. He didn't respond to her question right off... just tilted his head in curiosity. "Lily Evans," he murmured in short, furrowing his eyebrows. "There is more to you than what's on the surface, isn't there?"

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

She nearly laughed. Nearly. Well, it would seem that this Sylar had one up on Voldemort and his followers after all. Voldemort hadn't come to that realization until the end. Until it had been too late. One brow raised slightly. Lily had caught the glance at her wand - so he was afraid of it, eh? Well he should be, but Sylar would be wiser to be cautious of her. With her wand she was formidable, yes, but without it just as dangerous. Her wand was her weapon of choice, but not her only one. True, her favourite spells required it, but Lily could defend herself, could attack, without it. Lily was a powerful Witch, made more so in the last year, in the hours spent studying. Her wand was useful. It was no longer necessary.

"There is to everyone," she replied mildly. "I am nothing unique."

Ah, and that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Lily fervently believed that everyone had potential. That every person - Wizard or Muggle - had the right to live out that potential. People of Sylar's ilk saw only rough shadows of the power they allotted to themselves; everyone else was less. And if they did run across someone who could match them, with whom they were forced to acknowledge their worth, they only wanted to bend it, corrupt it, or take it for their own. No one was worthy, save them.

"Are you willing to acknowledge the fact that attacking students is not in your best interest? Or do you need further demonstration of just how badly I can own your skinny Yank arse?"

Lily didn't care about his hatred. She had a duty - the one she'd started when she joined the Order and had found herself unable to drop - to protect the innocent, the unaware, those who could not protect themselves. Sylar was nothing more than a great bully. She would stand in his way.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Sylar knew who Voldemort was, vaguely. He'd taken it upon himself to start poking around the school library and... well. Quite a read. But had he known what Lily was thinking? That she was comparing him to Deatheaters, thinking he was part of Voldemort's so-called uprising? He probably would have laughed. As if he would be involved in anything so... petty. Not that genocide could be described as 'petty', naturally, but compared to the effort that Sylar was going for... Small potatoes.

What she said out loud, however, he could hear, and that was what concerned him the most. Her claiming not to be unique... was what concerned him. For someone who strove to be so different from everyone else, to be someone special, that made him flinch. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. It was back to Chandra all over again, telling Sylar that he was normal. Back to Mohinder, telling him that the only good he'd do before he died would be to benefit the rest of the individuals across the globe with 'special' abilities.

Everybody had the potential to be special. If someone had that ability within their grasp, why would they squander that?

"I've no interest in what's inside your head, Lily, if that is what you are intending." Susan Sto Helit, he couldn't promise. She was far too interesting an individual for him to just let... slip through the cracks. "Susan, is..." He widened his eyes, almost mockingly wide, clapping a hand to his chest. "Wow. I suppose I just let himself get out of hand." Liar. But it took a lot to see through Sylar's bullshit. "So long as there's no more... What was that hex again?" He'd have to look up a spell book. ...It looked like magic was a little more useful than he initially thought.

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

Perhaps the fundamental difference between Lily and Sylar was that Lily never once thought that he might be after her brain. (After all, it never really was her people were after - Mudbloods in general, her son, her students, but never just her.) She blinked in slight surprise, wondering at that. But then her slim fingers tightened on her wand and red sparks flew from the end.

"Professor Evans," she corrected mildly. "And you do not strike me, Mr. Sylar, as the sort of individual that allows himself to 'get out of hand'."

One corner of her mouth pulled up into a smile, something that made her face look soft and young and sweet. If not for the glint in her eyes she might appear to be someone easily pushed aside. But there was strength, there, in the lines of her face. And a quiet kind of confidence that said she was no blustering bully, seeking to dominate; she had done what she threatened and would not hesitate to do so again. Against those like Sylar, Lily was the guardian at the gate.

"You are misunderstanding your situation. This is not a give-and-take. There is no 'if I do not hex you, you will not attack other students'. This is me telling you, very clearly, that if I hear so much as a whisper of you thinking about harming another person in this school, I will come at you so hard and so fast you will forget to breathe. This is my school, Mr. Sylar. This is my world. You are merely a guest here." Lily took a step forward, eyes hard and fixed on Sylar's. No fear. Not even a hint. She did not fear him; there was nothing he could possibly do that would even touch at what made Lily afraid. She had seen too much, done too much, experienced too much loss. She was above where he lurked, her fears too deep for him to trigger. Lily was simply annoyed.

"Do you understand?" The words were said slowly, as if to a child, but without mocking. With that kind of impatience that said that Sylar was interrupting a busy work day and Lily would very much like it if he grasped this simple concept so she could return to her business.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

He'd actually been trying to get at the spell. Did nobody understand the concept of subject changes anymore?

But damn. She'd caught onto it again. Lies were almost useless around the woman - she picked up on everything. For someone who based his life around lies, who hadn't actually been himself for God only knew how long now, this Professor Evans suddenly posed a rather threatening - or annoying? - individual. She'd cast a body-binding hex on him. She'd picked out every lie he'd thrown at her. ...There really was more to Lily Evans that met the eye, wasn't there?

There was something entirely different making its way into his eyes as she spoke, delving completely away from the hatred that he'd been giving off in wafts before. It wasn't there anymore. No, this was something new. He was... intrigued? It was that whole appeal in the takeover for him, apparently. It was... she had beaten him. Was beating him. She'd outsmarted him, and was it because she was better? It was at least because she knew this magic that he had no idea of.

"Actually, I'm fairly sure the headmaster's name is Kahnooloo. Not, in fact, Lily Evans," he breathed in a hush, under his breath, looking down to the shorter women and not even bothering to bat an eye towards her forward manner. His gaze flickered across hers, almost curiously, eyebrows furrowing towards her. "But, yes." He narrowed his eyes, then, halfway defensively and dangerously. "I understand. I am not a child, unlike your tone seems to be suggesting at the moment."

Not that he was going to listen to her, naturally. But it took a lot to subdue Sylar, these days.

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

"True," she conceded the point with a slight nod. "But I am a professor here. And it is my duty to protect my students. I take duty very much to heart, Mr. Sylar. And I am not someone you want to make an enemy of."

One eyebrow lifted at his tone, a silent warning. "Nor am I a person easily fooled. I wonder, who are you really, Mr. Sylar? You say you understand, but I have no faith in your comprehension."

For several long moments she simply studied him. Deep green eyes sweeping across his face like searchlights picking out every secret in him. Then Lily turned from him, dismissing him, and returned to her desk. "You will spend your detentions with me. Today you will be filing, by hand, that stack of papers." She waved her hand and a table loaded down with random pieces of parchment stacked so high they wobbled floated over to land with a thump in front of Sylar. "Hospital Wing records from the last fifty years. File alphabetically and by date. No talking. You will work until it is done."

With that, Lily was finished with him. Picking up another quill, she returned to her research, seemingly disinterested in Sylar altogether. Of course, that was only partially true. Lily was done speaking with him, for the moment at least, but someone such as Sylar could not be left unsupervised. As careless and absorbed as she appeared, Lily was alert to anything coming from Sylar. She would be ready, should he have another...fit.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Who was he really? Sylar stared back to Lily for a few long seconds, but his expression was neither searching nor prying. Because of all questions. Who was he? Was this a high school guidance counselor?

Really, his stare would have just appeared dumbstruck, had he been stupid enough to let such an emotion show in his eyes. It came across more... well, creepy and stalker-ish, kind of his default as of late. He was... he wasn't Gabriel Gray. He hadn't thought of himself as Gabriel for months - not even when he'd visited his mother again - only because Gabriel was just an embarrassment. Not that he was a different entity from Gabriel - no, that would be crazy - but... evolved. Gabriel 2.0, in a way. Better. He wasn't the watchmaker he always used to identify with. He wasn't just Sylar, this cold, heartless serial killer that everybody else in the world seemed to be chalking him up to.

"I'm the Boogeyman," was all he murmured in return to Lily, more for himself than anything.

If only New York could see him now. Sylar? The bomb? No, he was the office assistant. His eyes darted from his hands to Lily, narrowing back at the woman with that same kind of look in his eyes. And so she dumped him. Like the mangy dog with the fleas that the family no longer desires. "As you wish, professor," he commented lightly, picking at a paper on top of the stack. He could also do without a repeat of that damned hex. That was annoying at best, and he had a personal vendetta against the person who had created it.

Filing. ...Papers.

As if he thought he could stoop no lower.

And best yet, it wasn't his powers that could help him now.

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

'I'm the Boogeyman'.

Really? That was either incredibly arrogant or over-the-top cryptic or indicating his desire to slip into a spandex uniform and run about being someone's arch-nemesis. Or an inside joke Lily just did not get. In any case, she simply continued to jot notes, muttering, "Good thing I'm not afraid of the bloody dark then, yeah?"

Lily had some ideas about who the 'real' Sylar was. Just glimpses. Impressions. Images. But one thing she was good at was taking scattered pieces and making a whole. It might not be the entirety - Merlin knows she'd been fooled before, horribly so - but it, in most cases, was enough to go on with.

Every time Sylar spoke, the more he brooded and blustered, the picture was becoming clearer. He desperately needed to be the center of attention. Most people, when confronted with the cold wrath Lily had subjected Sylar to, would be glad when her eyes turned elsewhere. Sylar almost seemed to resent that fact; as if he was too sodding important to have her focus anywhere else. That was...interesting.

The only sounds for quite some time were the scratch of quill and the rustle of parchment filling out the silence. Lily fixed herself a cuppa, sipping it slowly as her head was bent over her work. She felt not a lick of sympathy for Sylar. She'd done similar tasks in detentions whilst she'd been in school as well. Nothing particularly horrific (those - like cleaning up Thestral dung - seemed to be saved for people who went out of their way to earn the detentions, time and time again; like Sirius and James), but boring and unpleasant enough to be a deterrent. Which was...the whole point, really.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Not that it mattered how lowly she spoke her words, at any rate. Lily's mutter sent Sylar's eyes flickering back up towards her, narrowed in that same sort of morbid curiosity that he couldn't help but exhibit with her. Not afraid of the dark. Not afraid of him. For the first time, he noticed her heart rate, the simplistic lub-dup pattern that was barely a blip on anybody else's ear drum. It was surprisingly even. She wasn't spooked. It had been a long time since he'd encountered someone who wasn't afraid of him.

It fascinated him.

He might have frowned upon the filing, and turned his chin up at the sight of the stuff, but damn if his obsessive compulsive nature didn't kick in almost instantaneously. This was the man, after all, who'd meticulously kept his apartment in the same, tidy position, for years. Plastic wrap on the chairs. Something like organizing almost became therapeutic. And it didn't take long for him to have the pile strewn out into categories - twenty-five, specifically, seeing as there were very little people with 'X' at the start of their surname.

Heh. Sorting Hospital Wing records. If only Mohinder Suresh, Noah Bennet, anybody, really, could see him now.