Application: Peter Petrelli (Heroes)

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

(Permission given by the lovely fellow Heroes-muns. Spoiler Warning: Major spoilers for Heroes, including the finale!)

(Second warning under cut for potential series spoiler: If your character is thinking particularly loudly, beware, Peter will hear their thoughts :P)

It turned out that exploding from radioactive power hurt like a bitch. And falling from roughly 6 feet onto a stone floor wasn't terribly pleasant, either.

At least - Peter reflected hazily, blinking as his eyes regrew - he had one thing working for him. Already he could feel what little remained of his skin duplicating from what few healthy cells were left, growing back over exposed muscle and bone. It was an odd feeling; like the tingling sensation felt after all the blood had drained out of a limb. Pins and needles. Nerves reforming with tiny sparks of sensation. Kinda painful, really.

For a while, he just lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, his brain struggling to catch up with what had just happened. It was slow in coming, so instead he just reflected on the spiderweb he could see gathering in one corner of the ceiling.

When the application paper fluttered into existence and appeared on a table next to him, Peter decided he couldn't be bothered moving his neck, let alone his whole body. With a gesture, he floated the paper over and let it hover a few inches away from his face, squinting to read it.

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"Mozzarella," he answered absently. "Food should be fun, and mozzarella is kind of challenging in a fun way seeing how it's so stringy."

Why the hell was he answering questions about cheese? As a break in his skull sealed over, Peter inhaled sharply in surprise. Shit, he'd blown up. His dreams came true, and he really had absorbed Ted's power and been unable to control it. Peter scrambled upwards, accidentally smacking his face into the paper in a particularly dorky move, and threw one hand out to grasp the table for balance.

Nathan. Shouldn't Nathan be here? They'd been together when he'd blown up, he thought, and... oh, shit. Nathan wouldn't survive that. He might have saved the cheerleader, saved the world (or, really, just New York city to be precise), but he'd killed his brother. He'd killed Nathan. All because he couldn't control a little nuclear power.

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

After glancing at the next question, it struck Peter as being rather ironic. "I don't want to kill any more people," he answered, the shock of the situation so overwhelming that he still didn't really understand what was going on.

"I just helped kill Sylar, and..." His brother. "I don't really want any more blood on my hands. I don't know if Barney actually has blood," he took a moment to babble, "But even if he did, I wouldn't. Wouldn't, couldn't, and shouldn't."

3. What time is it where you are?

That was a good question, actually. A look at his wrist confirmed that his watch had likely melted off in the explosion. Which meant... oh god. Suddenly panicked, Peter stared down at himself. His clothes definitely didn't survive the explosion. On the fortunate side, 90% of his body was still mostly unrecognizable as even being human - still black and twisted and burnt. He'd been ignoring the pain so far.

"I don't know the time, but... I-I, um, I think I need some clothes," Peter answered, his voice strangled, trying in vain to cover himself and looking horribly embarrassed. He wasn't sure what the small, deformed things that brought them were, but at soon as provided clothes appeared on the table, Peter fled (which meant he mostly stumbled) behind a curtain that the same weird-ass creatures had set up. The still-floating application bobbed along after him.

Eventually he wandered back out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt far too large for him. With a frown, Peter lifted his shirt and pressed his hands down on a few ribs that had broken the skin, popping them back into place so that they could heal properly. Finally, he was almost back to human.

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

"Uh." Peter scratched the back of head, not noticing when flakes of burnt skin and dried blood fluttered to the floor. "I don't really... know any of them, so, I dunno. I don't think I'd want to sexually harass someone anyway, that's kind of crazy."

He looked at his hand and grimaced, trying to scrape dried blood out from under his fingernails. Just because he was completely healed now, it didn't mean that he wasn't covered in dirt and blood. He really needed a shower.

...Thank god his hair was okay!

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"Why would you bartend in the dark?" Peter screwed up his face in confusion, grabbing the application out of the air and holding it in his hand. He glared at it as if it were the source of his problems, which it really was, when he thought about it.

This was really confusing. And not at all what he'd been expecting after blowing up. Well, to be honest, he hadn't really though about what would happen post-explosion, he'd been so bent on trying to prevent it. Peter knew he wasn't dead (...though Nathan might be...), but this was just strange. "I'd name it Simone's," he finished, trying for 'impatient' but mostly ending up with emo 'nostalgic'.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

"I don't know!" Peter threw his hands up the air in exasperation, his forehead creasing in the beginnings of frustration. "I don't even know where the hell I am, let alone who this Harry guy should marry!

Lowering his arms, Peter exhaled a measured breath, trying to calm himself down. It was hard, with the post-explosion and not knowing if Nathan was alive and hoping that everybody else was alive, but he managed. "Okay, maybe he should just wait a year and see what happens. Relationships change, and so does destiny. He might grow closer to one and not the other, and then he can get married. ...I was never the best mythology student, that's all I've got."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Oh, man, paperwork sucks," Peter sympathized. Who he was sympathizing with, he didn't know, but the question called for it. "My brother used to deal with it all the time," he paused awkwardly, "Or maybe he still does, I don't know. And back when I was a hospice nurse, there was way too much of it to deal with. I swear it just kept multiplying. So, if you don't want heaps of it, you should probably just quit your job and become a hobo."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

Abruptly, Peter's expression darkened, and he raked his hands through his hair. That was an interesting question. Could he prove he wasn't useless? Sure, he had the powers he'd picked up from other people. And he'd saved New York. But he'd earned himself exactly one dead brother.

...But maybe Nathan wasn't dead. Maybe Peter was just missing time, and they'd separated at the last moment, far enough away. Maybe. Too many maybes.

"I don't know if I can." Peter frowned at the application paper. "I mean, I can do stuff, and I think I just saved a lot of lives, but... I don't know. I hope I'm not."

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe.

Now that was going to be interesting. Everything Peter had had on his person had been burned to a crisp. He wasn't sure about this bribe business - in a family involved with the government, one tended not to look too kindly upon bribes - but perhaps he should at least offer something. Maybe, if he did, he could prove he wasn't useless.

"I guess I can help with things. Uh, moving big objects... interrogating people..." Peter struggled to find applications for his powers for more menial tasks. "I can probably melt metal now. Or... melt anything. Oh, and I can paint okay." Thanks to Isaac - though it might not be a particularly pleasant subject, depending on what the future held.

But to hell with the future, Peter wanted to know what was happening right now.

I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______PP______
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____PP______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____PP______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______PP_______

Comments

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

"Like you could," Peter snapped. "You can't just explain away any kind of screwed up logic that makes you want to kill people, Sylar. Not when you take out their brain and abilities just so that you can feel a little more special."

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Peter tried to keep his eyes on Sylar while also looking around the room for something he could use to knock him out. The powers he had were mostly non-offensive, something that was really frustrating right about now.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Did he have to repeat himself? Like hell he was going to tell Peter. Like hell. Peter Petrelli didn't deserve Sylar's explanation for why he committed his murders. He wouldn't care. He'd chalk it up to Sylar's craziness. Nobody would understand it like Sylar did. They wouldn't get it, and so he felt no obligation to share. No, Peter Petrelli hadn't earned the right to hear what he had to say.

He'd earned himself a spot of pain, though, definitely.

All at once, one of the chairs that had been sitting calmly by the table, out of the way, slammed against the stone floor, splintering into hundreds of pieces. As each one lifted, slowly, all with a simple outstretch of Sylar's hand, he could only narrow his eyes at Peter, dangerous slits that were warning the boy to stop, now, while he still could. "Unfortunately, I'm not willing to test that theory."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Even as Peter saw the undoubtedly sharp remnants of chair rise up, he continued to stand his ground. Foolish, most likely, but it wasn't anything he couldn't heal from. And stop with time, if he was lucky.

Instead of giving up or pleading for mercy, Peter simply furrowed his eyebrows. Even if Sylar did have some crazy reasoning - which he likely did - it still wouldn't be anything that Peter could hope to comprehend. Killing people for gain just didn't make sense in his mind.

"I have a few theories I'd like to test," Peter commented, forcing his voice into a casual tone despite the threat. "Like, what would happen if I dropped you from miles in the air. Or let you starve. Or chopped off your legs. It'd be harder to kill people when you don't have legs, am I right?"

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Ballsy. No, really. Sylar was almost impressed.

"What's that?" he asked in a cautious sort of voice, eyebrows raising in something that almost resembled intrigue. "Someone's developing a back bone." The idea of... It brought back memories of Primatech, being locked inside that damned cell for days (felt like years) on end, lack of food, drugs pumping through his system... Even Sylar would admit that the threats were a little unnerving. ...Aww. His little Peter was growing up.

But still stupid. "Growing a back bone and forgetting the little tiny detail of: 'magic school'," he added in a snipe, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the other man. "You can't win, Peter." Not that Sylar could win either, not here, at any rate, but that was totally beside the point right now. "But I'd like to see you try."

And then, of course, each and every last splinter from the chair started hurtling in towards Peter.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Sometimes it was really hard to ignore basic human instinct. It had been screaming at him to duck down, cover his face, step to the side - none, of course, would have helped. But as soon as Sylar had finished taunting him, Peter had closed his eyes tightly, concentrating fiercely.

He could feel a dozen sharp pains, but not hundreds. Hesitantly, Peter opened his eyes, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief when he saw the wood frozen in midair. Beyond them, Sylar and the rest of the room hung in suspense, too. Collecting himself, Peter stepped out of the way of the barrage. A couple of the ones at the front had actually hit him - he'd been just a little too slow - but it was nothing he couldn't deal with.

Peter let time restart again, and began casually picking the splinters out of his skin, unable to restrain a slight wince every time he did so. "Nice try," he sarcastically congratulated.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

He was expecting something, of course. Peter was definitely getting better, Sylar would give him that. Nearly a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd see the day. But he was honing his skills. And Sylar'd expected...

Not that.

The splinters hit the opposite wall and fell to the ground, in a shower of clacks. What the... No. "That's a new one," he replied automatically, before his eyes had even been given the chance to land back onto Peter. "Been hanging out with Hiro Nakamura, have we?" Of course. Even those split few seconds Peter had been near the guy, back at Kirby Plaza, would have been enough. That wasn't even considering the fact that they could have possibly met on some other occasion.

Bastard. He evolved so easily. He didn't even think twice about what he was doing.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

It wasn't actually that new, even if Peter had only used it once before. He almost hadn't expected it to work, it took a lot of a effort, but at least he'd stopped it. One of those shards of wood could have gone into his brain, and it would have been bye, bye, Peter. For a little while, anyway.

"Actually," a rare expression came over Peter's face, something that almost resembled smugness, "That's not the only new thing. The people here have a lot of interesting abilities." That was safe to give away, Sylar would know that. And Peter would never give out the names.

With a quiet "Ow, son of a bitch," Peter pulled out the last of the splinters, and sighed. He'd just borrowed these clothes and they were already full of holes.

"Lots more tricks up my sleeve. I'd think twice about trying to kill anybody," he warned. It was kind of like a pathetic looking puppy trying to bare its teeth, but hey, his teeth were sharp. And he couldn't wait to try the wall-crawling thing he'd picked up off of May.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

It was then, of course, that all glee dropped from Sylar's face, seemingly unprompted. That little... Of course. Sylar knew about powers at this school - so much power, and around every which corner - but of course Peter would be able to pick them up so much easier. With a blink of an eye. Just who had he come across here? How many people had he met? What else had he picked up on? Had he taken Susan's powers?

Sylar was going to slaughter him.

"I'm shaking in my boots, Pete," Sylar replied (even though he was wearing Converse) in a flattened, acidic sort of voice, narrowing his eyes at Peter. Great. More things he had to worry about. Maybe he could just wait for Peter to absorb the entire school and kill the bastard himself. No, really, it would all work out in Sylar's favor. He wouldn't have to go around, offing people, if he could do what Peter could do.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Peter wasn't typically the person to take pleasure in other peoples misery - he'd never been like that, always too centered around taking care of them - but he felt a small amount of triumph at the sudden change in Sylar's expression.

Hah. Peter narrowed his eyes, feeling slightly more confident. A hard thing to do, when standing in front of a serial killer. One that had nearly killed him on a number of occasions, in fact.

"You know, I am serious about dropping you off a roof," he replied, feigning casualness. "Whatever it takes, I'm going to stop you. I've proven that already."

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Wow. He kind of really hated Peter right now. No, really, he would feel so much better smashing the guy's face into the pavement. It would just be so satisfying.

Still, he fixed his eyes on the other man, narrowed for a moment, before he tugged his mouth back into a pleased sort of grin that didn't quite match his features. Creepy, still, but it didn't have nearly the same zip to it for a long, few seconds.

"I wonder," he murmured aloud, tilting his head at Peter, "just how far of an extent that regenerative power reaches to. What would happen if we put Peter Petrelli through a wood chipper? ...Well, he might look somewhat like his brother probably does now, wouldn't he?"

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

"Shut. Up," Peter ground out, fury flashing across his expression. For a moment, he almost wished that he knew something personal about Sylar, something that would really push his buttons, just so that he could return the insult. It was a strange thing to wish for.

Twitching his hand, Peter telekinetically ripped a leg off a nearby chair, and with a thought, it was rushing towards Sylar - missing impaling his head by what was probably only a few inches. The miss had been intentional, but Peter still looked like he would have liked nothing more than to his his target.

"The next one goes through your head," he warned, his voice low in anger that was getting the better of him. "I doubt you'd survive in a wood chipper much better than I would. Good luck finding one."

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

The leg of the chair went flying past Sylar's head, inches from connecting and... Damn, how had he missed that? Peter Petrelli was getting better and better at honing his powers - particularly the telekinesis, which, considering Peter had just sponged the power off of him... made Sylar a very Not Happy camper - and Sylar was not liking this one bit. Peter was supposed to be the bumbling fool who couldn't even keep track of how long his own bangs were getting, never mind contain a nuclear explosion. Not the guy who posed an actual possible threat.

"I'd like to see you try," he sniped back in return, nonetheless, glowering towards the male and stretching his fingers. "You'd be surprised just what I can make it through, Pete." A wood chipper, okay, maybe not, but you'd have a hell of a time getting him into one of those anyway.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

He could freeze time and dump Sylar in a wood chipper. He could use telekinesis to do it. He could fly him and drop him. So many options; running up against the cold, hard fact that he couldn't be killed here. Peter had to wonder where the spell around the castle drew its line - could people be dismembered, and still live?

He was almost disgusted at himself for thinking like that, if not for the fact that Sylar deserved it. If he could just find some way to contain him, to stop him from trying to kill...

"Yeah, falls from buildings, swords through the stomach, I know," Peter scowled. Why was Sylar still here? Was taunting him really that fun? "Seems to be that I've got the advantage on that one."

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Sylar might have deserved it, yes - even Sylar would probably attest to that fact, if pressed to do so. But, no, he was fairly certain that the 'no-kill' rule he'd been told about here had... quite the reach, so far as limits went. Dismemberment wouldn't kill. There was no cancer, and he was pretty sure people couldn't even die of old age here. God, it was like having those tissue regeneration powers. But better.

Well, maybe not better. His arm got chopped off, it was pretty much going to stay chopped off.

"Hang out with Claire, leech a little off her, it's going to tend to do that," Sylar spat in return, narrowing his eyes, his voice pure poison. "But maybe that's just what I think."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

It was probably wrong of Peter to have a sudden urge to laugh, and sing 'My power's better than your power!'. It was a height of ego that he'd never really invested in; plus, he was fairly sure that taunting the serial killer was never a good idea. But right now, when he was tense and just waiting for something to fly at him, he couldn't help the slightly ridiculous thoughts.

"What, jealous that it's easier for me?" Peter asked, even though it wasn't easier, because he had to learn the abilities and screw up a lot, whereas Sylar knew what he was getting and seemed to understand them intricately. ...Didn't mean that Sylar's method was better, though.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Jealous was one word for what he was feeling right now, he supposed. Because, well. Peter did have the uncanny ability to pick on this like nothing. He could absorb twenty new powers in a day and not even know about it. If Sylar rushed what he was doing, he could get two, tops. Granted, he did have more control over what he had - he wasn't the one in danger of going nuclear all over New York City, after all - but, damn. Peter got off lucky, the little twit.

Maybe a little more infuriated on Sylar's part that Peter dared to voice something like that aloud. ...Yeah, mostly because of how deep in that dug under his skin, without even trying. "Jealous? Of you?" he repeated nonetheless, the laugh bursting free from his throat high and cold and every other feeling you could think of that made goosebumps pop up all up and down your arms. "Hardly."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

"Funny that you once tried to get my brain, then," Peter said dryly, wondering where this sudden confidence was coming from. Maybe it was a little foolhardy, with the knowledge that he couldn't die. Most likely it was adrenaline from standing in front of a serial killer, and the fact that he'd just exploded and survived.

He could see that the little jealousy comment had gotten to Sylar - Claude had once called Peter's ability 'empathic mimicry', and maybe it wasn't all that far off - but it didn't make Peter feel all that good about himself. Not that he wanted to compliment Sylar, but... Peter was still getting used to the whole 'beating people up' thing.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Once tried, yeah. Once tried and once failed, and it was all because of that damn Claire Bennet's powers. Peter, absorbing them, and even a foot-long piece of glass shoved into the back of his head wasn't enough to stop him. God, even a nuclear explosion wasn't enough to stop him. Peter was... currently pretty indestructible, for the most part. ...Sylar didn't like it.

"Strange, I thought I killed you within the same breath that day," he replied in turn, poison in his voice and his eyes darkening to something entirely unreadable. "Funny how things turn out." When you're Peter Petrelli and you fucking absorb everything without a second thought as to what or why, not even bothering to learn to control what you do pick up.