[Closed RP: Sylar and Peter] Five Days Later

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

((OOC: Any and all details about Sylar have been cleared with the mun first!))

For someone who had always said to have 'his head stuck in the clouds too often for his own good', Peter thought his current plan was going rather well.

Then again, 'well' was entirely subjective. Yes, Sylar hadn't been able to terrorize anybody for the last five days. But, in said five days, Peter had been stuck in the same room with only Sylar for company. For the first few days, he'd tried to keep a mental watch on Sylar's thoughts to see if he was planning escape, but the things he kept hearing were enough to convince him never to use telepathy again. Especially what he'd heard on the first day.

Five days. Five days of sitting on cold stone, watching over a serial killer that would do anything to escape. And Sylar had certainly tried - Peter would still wear the bruises from those attempts if he didn't heal so fast. Five days of having to use the Voice on Sylar to make him eat and not try to escape. Needless to say, conversation had been few and far between, for which Peter was grateful. He was doing this to keep people safe, not to make small talk. Five days of trying not to fall asleep so that he could monitor how much sedative was being pumped into Sylar's veins.

And on the fifth day, it wasn't working so well.

Sitting up against the door, Peter struggled to keep his eyes open. He couldn't recall how much sleep he'd gotten, but seeing that he had been keeping a 24/7 watch, he didn't think it was very much. Sometimes, he thought he could hear Sylar talking, but when he looked back up, it was clear he hadn't been. Other times he could swear he heard Nathan's voice outside the door, but he hadn't talked to Nathan since his sorting.

Peter had to wonder if he was going insane, through a combination of sleep-deprivation and being in the company of goddamn Sylar for five days. It was enough to drive anybody up the wall.

Comments

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Peter had been expecting the block, but not the rest, and the crack of his shoulder popping out of his socket was almost enough to make him scream. No matter how much he healed, the pain was something he'd never get used to. Staggering back a few steps, Peter roughly shoved his shoulder against the wall, forcing the joint back to where it was supposed to be. The sickening sensation of bones grinding together made him want to pass out.

But he couldn't, he had to stop Sylar, and goddamn, why wasn't the pain stopping? He had to think of Claire, of her ability, but a stable thought was almost impossible right now.

So Peter, desperate to end this, grabbed the closest thing on hand. The IV pole, with everything still connected. His good arm still wasn't co-operating too well, so he used his left, swinging wide and going for Sylar's knees. If the bastard couldn't walk, he couldn't get out of here.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

And he had so many damn choices to stop the guy, but he had to be limited to the few he'd exposed to Peter so far. Cryokinesis was a no-go. Liquefaction was entirely out of the question. Sylar swept his hand over again, that same invisible wall stopping the pole before it smashed rather painfully with with his kneecaps.

"This is getting kind of old," he automatically prompted in return, eyes needling towards Peter before they rolled over in his sockets. This was just... sad. He was swinging around like a madman with no country to his name. Of course, it was just sad now. And Sylar didn't want to test just when Peter was going to come to his senses enough to use that handy power of persuasion on him again. "It's going to end. Now."

The IV pole swung back around, sharply, going right back to Peter's own shins and fully intent on taking him down before Sylar was.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

The hit to his shins sent Peter falling to his knees, taking a sharply indrawn breath as the jolt to his knees seemed to travel right through his nervous system. Breathing deeply, but too quickly, he thought about getting up. But didn't.

He just wanted this to be over. Not just this fight, but... this whole thing. Sylar was stronger than he was, than he'd ever be, but people couldn't die here and that knowledge reduced Peter's plan to uselessness. He just wanted to lie on his couch and watch awful soap operas, and leave it to somebody better than him to be a hero. It wasn't a death wish, he was just too goddamn tired.

"So finish it," Peter snapped. Just put something through my head so I can have an excuse not to try be a hero anymore. But he wasn't going to let Sylar just walk out of here, that would be too much failure for him to cope with. He didn't get up, but a thought sent the chair flying towards Sylar.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

'So finish it'? Was he really...? No, it couldn't be that easy. Could it?

Oh. And there he went. Of course it couldn't.

The chair was discarded with a simple step to the side, as he watched the thing soar past him with an arched brow, something resembling amusement crossing his features. Right. This was just getting insulting, by this point in time. That had kept him tied up for almost a week? He was slipping. Sylar took a few long seconds to stand there, looming in all of his height and his creepiness over the boy with an odd sort of pity.

"You're pathetic, Peter Petrelli," Sylar crooned with a frown, crossing an arm across his chest and tapping his free fingers against his chin, as though he were an art critic in a moment of scrutinizing a piece of work. "I couldn't do you the favor, sorry. But feel free to do so on your own part. I wouldn't stop you."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

For a moment, Peter seriously considered just going nuclear. Just a little explosion, enough to wipe out Sylar but not to tear the whole castle down. But that wouldn't work, he couldn't control it enough - knowing his luck, he'd end up tearing the whole castle up and some of the nearby villages, too.

A tingling in his hands made him look down, and panic tore through him. "Shit, shit, this can't be happening," Peter cursed, wide-eyed. It was faint, but he could almost see the bones in his hands, the radioactive power lighting up from the inside. This was all Sylar's goddamn fault, getting him worked up.

He didn't even hear Sylar's mocking words, too caught up in staring at his own hands. Maybe he could use this. A punch backed up with radioactive skin probably hurt - and telekinesis was working so well for him right now. Thinking quickly, Peter pushed himself up and aimed a fist at Sylar's stomach, ignoring the twinges from his still-healing shoulder.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Peter's hands flared to that florescent shade of orange and Sylar quirked an eyebrow, an expression of... almost glee crossing his features. Because there it was. Everybody was oh-so convinced that Sylar was the villain, and Sylar was going to be the end of them all, eventually, and oh, Peter was such a sweetheart, when here was their little hero, seconds away from going nuclear onto the entire school. Hundreds of people. Dead. Poof.

So much for Peter's little idealistic dream of this school, huh?

"What are you going to do now, Pete?" he shot back, something of excitement flashing in his eyes. It didn't last long - his face was already contorting into a scowl, irritated. "Who's going to fly you out of trouble now, huh? Who's going to correct YOUR mistakes?" He'd been so caught up in the moment that Peter's fist sunk right into his stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him and burning a hole straight through his shirt - and, consequentially, probably a few layers of skin, judging by the flare of pain blossoming in his abdomen.

Fun time was over. They needed to end this fast.

The IV pole swung around a second time, base going straight for Peter's head as Sylar clutched an arm around his stomach and stumbled back a few feet. Damn, that hurt.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Peter's victory over finally managing to get a hit on Sylar was short-found, and a little painful, considering the the rather sharp smack of the IV pole into his forehead. He'd been too distracted, too slow to see it coming - but even though it sent him tumbling, he was up a second later.

This room was too goddamn small. But even though his head was pounding - was that blood he could feel? Bastard - Peter wasn't going to give up so easy. At least the knock to the head had sent the radioactive power short-circuiting, the glow dimming and easing his panic.

"Guess you fixed it," he grinned recklessly, flexing his fingers. But his temporary relief was cut short by the question of how to take Sylar down. He knew he didn't have a chance in the world of trying to stop time right now, his brain was too scrambled, thoughts not connecting properly. This probably wasn't going to end well.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Yes, there it was... The radiation sucking back into his fingers, almost as if someone had just flicked off a light switch. As if Sylar had flicked off a light switch. "Looks like I did fix it," he murmured in response, the IV pole still raised behind Peter, unwavering, as Sylar cocked his head at the other man. "Lucky us, that I kept you from blowing up the entire school." His voice was pure poison as he narrowed his eyes onto Peter, everything just spitting hate.

"And they say I'm the villain," Sylar seethed, advancing onto Peter a few steps and looming over him with a kind of ominous homage to death, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But who's the hero now, Pete? The one who just almost took out a couple hundred people in one go?" He crouched in front of Peter, dancing smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. Anybody else, it might have seemed friendly, but on Sylar... it was just like a promise of impending doom.

Finger to his lips in contemplation, Sylar just shook his head, standing again and taking a step back. "Maybe I should just fix it for good," he finally decided, nodding once, and the IV pole came back a last time, like a javelin, goring straight through the back of Peter's head.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

If it was one question in the world that Peter really wanted answered, it was why Sylar insisted on some kind of strange, semi-meaningful words of wisdom right before something happened. Unfortunately, it just seemed to make him that much creepier, that more more unhinged, and Peter couldn't stop himself from backing up a little.

At least this time he was actually paying attention. The last words Sylar spoke - fixing it for good - set off an eternal alarm, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Sylar was still, the tip of the IV pole was lightly pressed against the back of Peter's head, its momentum frozen.

But he didn't move. It was an odd sensation, stopping time. The feeling of seconds ticking by was something a person never noticed until it wasn't happening anymore. Peter took a breath, and closed his eyes. If he moved, the fight would continue, and he wasn't deluding himself that he'd actually win this one, no matter how long he strung it out. He could move, and run, but Peter never could back down from a challenge.

The people here couldn't die; they were safe. They didn't need him right now.

Peter shifted his head slightly, angling so that pole would directly through the back of his brain, where it needed to go. He wasn't suicidal, he just wanted a break for a few days. And this was just one way to get it. One corner of his lips turning up in a satisfied smile, Peter let time resume ticking.

[mmm-brainz.livejournal.com]

Sylar watched Peter's body slump, IV pole protruding a good two, three feet from his forehead, hands still twitching a bit at his sides, in anticipation. There was that weird kind of rush that came with something like this, randomly. He eyed the few tendrils of blood oozing up from the gouge in his forehead, beading up around the metal pole and sliding down his pale skin... There was almost a chill that ran down his spine, pleased.

Not that it could last. Hogwarts had the no-kill spell still in hold around it, Peter had... Claire's damn power. Sylar wouldn't be surprised if he was awake again by the end of the week. He lingered for a few long seconds nonetheless, studying the picture in front of him with a strange sort of look in his eyes, and as he started for the door... he just couldn't help having a sick, pleased sort of satisfaction in having watched the light finally slip away from Peter's eyes.