What else did she have up her sleeves? LITERALLY. She pulled out weapon after weapon and, God, this was really putting his reflexes to the test, wasn't it? She wasn't as challenging as, say, Susan - but then this cyborg whatever-it-was didn't seem to be very advanced in the intelligence category. Then again she wasn't as difficult - little as he'd like to admit it - as Peter Petrelli, and he wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Woops. Let his guard down for a moment.
Sylar automatically lurched backwards, for lack of a better solution to the matter, getting himself... MOSTLY out of the way - there was definitely a new slice across the arm of his hoody sweatshirt now, with blood already welling to the surface of the sizable gash. Fantastic. "You owe me a new shirt," he automatically seethed in return, telekinetically slamming the sword - and her arm, consequentially - towards the stone floor, at an angle awkward enough to almost dislocate her shoulder.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-07-26 04:10 am (UTC)Woops. Let his guard down for a moment.
Sylar automatically lurched backwards, for lack of a better solution to the matter, getting himself... MOSTLY out of the way - there was definitely a new slice across the arm of his hoody sweatshirt now, with blood already welling to the surface of the sizable gash. Fantastic. "You owe me a new shirt," he automatically seethed in return, telekinetically slamming the sword - and her arm, consequentially - towards the stone floor, at an angle awkward enough to almost dislocate her shoulder.