The Burning - Mad Men Verse

[chimeramimicry]

Part of the Mohinder/Sylar RP found at [Bad username or site: splice_of_life/ @ livejournal.com] 's journal, Mad Men verse.

"Is that smoke?"

Peter had just gotten finished teaching Sylar about using the portion of Hiro's power that enabled time stopping when he glanced up from the roof and shielded his eyes from the sun. Yes, obviously, it was smoke. A lot of smoke.

"Shit. That's a lot of supplies going up. Do you think one of those gangs has gotten up this far? We should have barricaded the roads further down."

There wasn't much to do for it. Not now.

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[heroslayer]

Well, the camp isn't on fire and everything seems fine. That's a relief.

He exhales loudly, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding until just now, and glances back at Peter. "I should go find Mohinder. I went down to the lake by myself once, and when he found me, he just about had a conniption. Imagine what he'll do if he thinks Molly's missing and no one's around to tell him otherwise."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"That poor man does like to worry." Peter's only half teasing. "I'm going to raid your kitchen, all right? Maybe he started lunch." No one's quite sure who designated Mohinder the official cook of the place, but he always prepared enough for everyone, even if they were all mostly spread out across the resort.

Peter heads into the kitchen as Sylar goes upstairs and frowns. It's past one. Lunch is late.

There's nothing even started. Peter goes for the chips instead. Not too much longer before these go too bad to eat too.

[heroslayer]

Sylar comes back downstairs a few minutes later, after finding Mohinder absent from their room, and meanders into the kitchen. He, like Peter, finds it worrying that the geneticist doesn't seem to have been here at all, and for much the same reasons as his brother, but unlike Peter, he can't just dismiss it. Something is wrong here and he can't help but feel like Mohinder's absence is tied to the fire, somehow. He doubts he's being paranoid -- Mohinder has a knack for getting into trouble and it's too much of a coincidence otherwise -- but that doesn't stop him from reaching out with his plants, still trying to find him even as he crosses the grounds to Angela's apartments.

He doesn't knock. He just pushes the door open rudely. "I need Molly."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Jessica immediately puts Elizabeth behind her and Nathan stands up from the sofa, gesturing for the girls to stay seated. "She's just upstairs. I'll go and get her."

Molly bounds down the stairs, smile fading a little when she sees it's Sylar that's come to collect her before she tilts her head exactly as Mohinder does from time to time. "Is it time for lunch?" She even holds her hand up for Sylar to take because...she promised Mohinder that she's try. And Sylar did seem to have changed.

[heroslayer]

"Almost." If Mohinder's hurt or dead, it certainly will be, though not in the way Molly thinks.

He doesn't say this, though, obviously, instead reaching down to take Molly's hand and ushers her outside, only to stop abruptly once they've gotten out of earshot of the building. He turns, glancing towards it, making sure no one's standing at the window, trying to pry, and once he's satisfied, he returns his attentions to her. "I need you to find Mohinder for me."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Molly's laughing. She pulls her hair back over her shoulders. "Did he get himself locked in the barn again? He told me not to tell you he did that a few days ago. Lizzie and I found him after a whole hour!"

She closes her eyes. She doesn't really need a map for something to short range. She can just point. And, turning, turning around and around, she almost seems to be about to do just that when she starts to shake, her head bobbing.

It's black. All black.

"He...He's not anywhere," she whispers, tears in her eyes. No. No, that's everyone then. Everyone. "Mohinder!"

[heroslayer]

It takes a moment for that to sink in, but when it does, it hits like a punch to the gut. The world seems to tilt off its axis, reeling around him, and his breathing comes short and fast, his stomach tying itself in knots. His knees threaten to buckle. His breakfast threatens to crawl its way up out of his gut. He's not angry, though, not at first, just hurt, shocked and trying to deny the truth. Molly has to be lying; Mohinder can't be dead. Someone would have noticed. Someone would have --

Nathan.

Anger hits him like a freight train, building speed and momentum as he turns back to face Angela's apartments slowly. He balls his fingers into fists, tilting his head to one side, listening. Nathan's smart enough to keep his thoughts from straying too far in Mohinder's direction, but there's a sense of triumph in them, of knowing that soon, he'll have everything he's wanted since Peter brough him back, and necessary evils, and that's enough for Sylar. The fire was Nathan's fault and Mohinder died in it. This is Nathan's fault.

Somewhere, across the grounds, the greenhouse explodes, plant life chewing through the glass as it grows, uncontrolled and angry. Leaves and vines and stalks mutate into a steely, thorny tangle. Fruits and vegetables bloat to near bursting, their skins a sickly color now as their meat fills with poison. If they could, they'd be shrieking; as it is, they're writhing in anger and agony, ready to snatch up anyone who walks by to devour them. The massive gaping maws they're developing in addition to the rest certainly makes it a possibility.

Sylar, however, ignores the behavior of his plants. He allows Molly one quick, cold look, and then disappears from her side, reappearing inside the room. He doesn't stop time, although he knows he could, wanting everyone to see, to know what his brother did, and rushes Nathan, one hand curling around his throat. He lifts him up and slams him hard against the wall, driving his mind into the elder Petrelli's like a railroad spike. He holds up his other hand to keep the girls at bay.

"Tell me what you did," he orders, his lips pulling back in a vicious sneer. "Tell me now!"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter arrives just a moment later. Everything had been fine, he was eating chips, and then the potted violets in the kitchen tried to eat him. Now he's here, bag in hand, blinking a bit owlishly before he realizes that his older brothers are fighting. And hardly fairly.

It doesn't take much for Peter to put two and two together though. The plants freaking out, Mohinder's absence. Sylar's attemot to throttle Nathan.

Mohinder's gone, not just gone, but irrevocably gone. And Nathan did it.

"Stop!" That's vanity. It won't stop. Sylar will kill Nathan and then Peter and Sylar will try to drive something into the sweet spot in each other's brains.

The world will suffer for Sylar's loss, moreso than it already has. And that's what's running through Nathan's brain now. Sylar took everything from him: wife, kids, campaign, and now his brother. So Nathan took everything from Sylar.

[heroslayer]

For a brief, hopeful moment, it seems as though Sylar is willing to listen. He releases his hold on Nathan, watching him slide down the wall dispassionately, anger and agony rolling off of him in alternating waves, like the ebb and flow of the sea. He moves to sit down in an armchair opposite Angela, tears running freely down his face, though he seems entirely unaware of them, and sits there staring blankly at (through) his mother, his breath hitching in the back of his throat, almost sobbing. That's it, though -- that's where his mercy ends.

Before Peter can react to comfort him or check on Nathan, he sinks his mental claws into everyone assembled, save Peter. Blood runs from Nathan's nose, but he remains conscious. They all do, turning intent albeit half-vacant stares on him. None of them will ever be quite whole again, if and when he lets them go, something vital shattered, and none of them will ever have another thought that's soley their own as long as he has his fingers on their hearts. They're his now, just like the plants which are still mutating terribly outside, destroying the camp as they creep ever closer, and right now, what he wants is an audience to his pain, so they watch.

"I never told him I loved him," he says after some time. "I guess I always knew he'd break my heart."

He pauses, sucking in a sharp breath, and reaches up to thumb furiously at his eyes. It only serves to make the tears come more heavily, and so he gives him, turning sideways in the seat to look at Nathan. "You could have lived without them. You didn't need to kill him. You could have been happy without them. But now we all die here. You screwed us."

He turns away so he can get to his feet and head for the door. He doesn't look back, but he doesn't release his hold over the room, either. "Kill him."

All at once, the room turns on Peter, a feral, mindless mob, but Sylar doesn't stop to watch. They'll either kill him or they'll force him to murder them. Either way, he gets what he wants, and he has more important things to worry about, right now. Like Molly, who's still waiting for him outside, if only because he crushed her mind, too. He kneels down next to her, murmuring a genuine apology as he pulls her into his arms, and saws into her head from behind. She never sees it coming, but he doubts she feels it, either.

Even the high of a new power doesn't help, but he wasn't expecting it to.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Continued here, sometime later.

http://splice-of-life.livejournal.com/12375.html