Famous Last Words

[splice_of_life]

"And the way I can feel you...its...I never want to lose that."

Mohinder wakes with a start and stares up at the ceiling. Those weird dreams again. They need to stop. They're starting to affect his ability to do his job. Well, not that he'd slept much these five years since Sylar blew up. The alarm goes off a moment later and he pulls himself to his feet.

Another day in the lab. Another report due. A meeting with the president that afternoon? He'd have to check his schedule.

He's in the shower when he gets the call. That meeting with the president? Moved up to a breakfast briefing. Mohinder groans and slips on a silver and lapis lazuli ring before he heads down to the waiting limo.

Comments

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"I can't go out there!" he shouts. It's not as if Mohinder's locked the door behind him....though he has snapped the cuffs. He sits in the corner just behind the couch. Hiding. "And you need to leave. Now!"

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

Matt comes in, moving cautiously, his gun raised, finger on the trigger. Based on what he just said, he's pretty sure the guy's about to attack him, intentionally or because he's about to lose control of his ability again, and the head of Sylar's task force has no intention of going down. Or leaving without Mohinder's head in a bag or the man himself in tow.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not until you're done screwing around and decide you're ready to come along quietly." A beat and then he adds, "I don't want to force you, but I will if I have to."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"No you won't."

Mohinder's voice is soft. Melodic. It's got that twinge to it. That effortless quality Matt's gets when he decides to use his power for the more sinister implication it carries.

"You're just going to leave me be."

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

Mindlessly, Matt lowers his gun and starts to back out of the room. Either Mohinder's not as good at manipulating minds as the other man is or his defenses are just far better being a telepath himself, but either way, Matt stops before he reaches the door, shaking his head violently as he tries to get a handle on himself. He starts to raise his weapon again, though it feels like a struggle, like it weighs hundreds of pounds.

" ... what're you doing to me?"

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"You're going to go away," Mohinder says, a little stronger now. He's not sure what he's doing, but he knows he can do it. And he knows that this is important. He has to get away. "You can come back later, when it's dark, but please, please I don't want to have to hurt you. Go!"

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

His expression fading back into vacancy, Matt turns and heads out of the building. He puts his gun away when he reaches street level, gets back in his car, and drives back to his offices in the city without the aid of his siren. The call he gets when he gets back to work is what snaps him out of it -- it's Sylar and he doesn't exactly sound pleased.

He tells Matt to sit tight and when nighttime falls, it's Sylar that shows up at the Indian's apartment, not his chief of security. Mohinder's little display earlier has caught his attention.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder's talking to himself. Rambling. He's been doing it for the passed four hours or so, alternating between English, French and Hindi. He's moved from behind the couch to the bathroom where he's just standing there, looking at himself in the mirror. Well. Not just standing there. He leans in, gently pinching elongated teeth. And that's when he smells him. Him. He knows it. And he doesn't understand it. Even when he sees Nathan in the mirror. "I'm sorry, sir."

[heroslayer]

"If you were sorry, you would've gone with Parkman when he showed up to take you into custody," Sylar answers from where he's taken to leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. He doesn't look happy, but beyond that, there's a small, hungry glint to his eyes. He's spent the whole day watching and re-watching the security footage and the live feed both and he wants to know what's going on as well as what Mohinder's capable of. "You wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Straightening up, Mohinder turns to glance over his shoulder. He's got his rings on. Both of them. He's also shaved, completely, a look he hasn't worn since before the explosion.

"Something's wrong with me," he says, hands at his sides. "Something really..." He steps closer. That smell. Closer still. "Something really dreadful."

[heroslayer]

"You have an ability," he supplies. He pushes away from the door frame, taking his hands out of his pockets. "A couple of them, actually, if what you did to Parkman and what showed up on the tapes is any indication. Like Pete or Sylar."

He might actually be worth killing -- he might actually enjoy killing him and he hasn't enjoyed anything in half a decade. It doesn't occur to him that he can't hear Mohinder and his power like he should be able to.

"I can see now why you didn't wanna use the retrovirus." A beat. "Christ, Mohinder, you could've told me."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder looks stricken for half a moment before his face sets back to curious. It's not true. "How can I possibly have an ability? You had me test myself on live television when I first devoloped the quick test!" he says, closer to Nathan now than he usually stands to even shake his hand. His wrists still wear Parkman's cuffs, split in two with the chain dangling. "Abilities are genetic. They might manifest later. But the markers are there from birth."

[heroslayer]

Sylar tense and brings one hand up, not afraid but bracing for an attack all the same. Mohinder's clearly out of his mind, and if he touches him, he'll tear him to shreds. He's grateful in that moment that he has Parkman watching the cameras. If he has to show his hand -- when, since he's still fairly certain this will end with Mohinder's death one way or another -- Matt will be there to erase any evidence that he's not who he says he is.

"You ever think you got it wrong? You're not exactly batting a thousand here most days, Suresh."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"It's possible," he'll acquiesce, leaning forward to sniff at Nathan's throat. That's it. That's what he's smelled. A step closer and he can press against it. "We ought to have your boys tested again then. They were done with the same batch."

[heroslayer]

"I hope you won't be too upset if I feel the need to seek a second opinion?"

He stepped forward rather than backwards, passing though Mohinder as easily as one might cut through a stiff wind and turned to face him again. His face was hard now, his voice low, tone bordering on someone else's, even if it wasn't entirely his true voice just yet. "You really should have kept your distance, Mohinder. You might have actually made it out of here alive."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Nathan doesn't have that power...

Mohinder stands with his back to Sylar and tilts his head to the side. He can hear just the briefest stream of his thoughts. He can hear his heart beating. And god help him--

Fangs extend as he turns, quicker than a person ought to be able to. He slams Sylar back against the wall. The intent is to catch the other man off guard before he can phase through him again. He needs to feed on something worthy.

[heroslayer]

Unfortunately for Mohinder, while he doesn't pass through him again, he does slip back into the wall the second he feels his back connect with it. He takes a moment in the adjacent, empty apartment to catch his breath, then moves down the wall to reenter away from him, purple-blue flames springing to life in his palms, engulfing his hands as he comes back in.

And in the flickering, hot light, his skin runs riot, shifting and changing. When it settles, he's himself again for the time being rather than Nathan. No point in hiding his face when it's already clear he's not who he pretends to be.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Fire. Mohinder flinches, more at the heat than at the new face staring back at him. He holds his hands up to protect his eyes and swallows, thick and heavy. "This is why you want me to use the retrovirus! You want me to kill them all so you'll be the only one left!"

He doesn't bother to retract his fangs, mostly because he's dealing on instinct here. He doesn't know what he is. He just understands hunger. Desire. He knows that the blood inside of Sylar is the only thing that will cause his hunger to end.

[heroslayer]

"It's better than hunting you down one at a time, isn't it? So neat and clean. Just one little order, one little shot, and poof!" He makes an explosive hand gesture and a tongue of flames laps at the ceiling, blackening it in spots, catching in others. He can't heal here, not that he's aware of, Claire kept far away from him in this reality and the power blocked by his lack of awareness, but he's not afraid. The flames won't hurt him. They belong to him; they are him. "I'm the only one left. I'm the most special."

He offers him a hollow smile. Mohinder's not the only one here that's completely out of his mind.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder rocks back and forth from heel to toe. He's not sure what to do. There's danger there. And life. And he needs both.

"You're a monster," he growls, soft and low. "What happens when you have no one left to hunt? What happens when you're alone? Again?!"

[heroslayer]

"I don't want anyone left to hunt. I'm tired, Suresh. I want it to be over." He wants his uniqueness and he doesn't want to have to work for it anymore. "I was accused of one holocaust -- why not have a real one under my belt? I'd be getting what I wanted and I'd be saving the world. No more people like Peter, no more people like Hiro. No more pain and suffering beyond the mundane. I'd be a hero."

He sounds like he means that, too. Turning on his own people is for more than just fashioning himself into a God.

"And by the way? Pot, meet kettle. I'm not the one who murdered some innocent girl. Or tried to kill one of his supposed friends." He glances briefly up at the flames spreading above them, directing them to the door as well as keeping them confined to this room. He wants to keep Mohinder trapped, not burn down the building. "How does that work, anyway? What kind of hunger comes as your price tag?"

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Won't anyone listen to him? It's not a power. It's... Mohinder doesn't even know. Maybe he does have a power. But then--

"Shouldn't you know? You should be able to look at me and know. That girl was... I don't know. Oh god, her poor family. I just... I'm just so hungry. I need something! I need--"

Sylar.

[heroslayer]

"Maybe five years ago. I'm out of practice now. I can't feel your power like I should be able to." And, now that he thinks about it, that's somewhat worrying and all the more fascinating. If he doesn't have an ability, then what is he? The only answer he can come up with is vampire and that feels, well, ridiuculous even with all the overwhelming evidence. "I'd have to open you up to find out and I plan to. I want to know how you work. I want to know what you are, if this is more than just some ability."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"No. Put out the fire."

It worked with Parkman. Mohinder already knows it will work with Sylar. There's something of him in there too and that's a little worrying.

"And stop all the bloody talking. I hated that, you know? Pompous arrogance! So enough!"

[heroslayer]

With Matt, there was a feeling of resistance when Mohinder tried to impose his will on him, jarring and apparent, grinding, like stone against stone. With Sylar, there's absolutely no fight following the command, despite the fact that his mental defenses should be much, much better than Parkman's. The emotion just runs away from his face all at once, leaving him looking empty and childlike, the flames sputtering out as his will slips away. He's silent, as ordered, content to just stare at Mohinder, eyes wide and hypnotized, awaiting further orders or somwthing sudden and sharp enough to snap him out of it.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Huh. That actually did work. Mohinder's just a little surprised at first before he slips towards Sylar and lightly pats his chest. He wants to be sure it's not a trick. And, thankfully, it isn't. He gazes up into dark eyes and leans up to sniff the skin at his throat. Yes. That. There. Now...

He wants it so badly that his fangs itch. Cupping the back of Sylar's neck with his palm, Mohinder nuzzles his skin just a bit more before he let's his teeth hit their mark and he slides against him, moaning.

Finally. Yes! It's as perfect as he knew it could be.