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]

"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.

[heroslayer]

Mohinder had ordered Sylar to stop talking and put out the fire, not stop fighting back entirely, his possum reaction a weakness to the Indian's will rather than any real power forcing him to remain still. It makes sense, then, that under no such orders and with the pain of the bite, that he snaps out of it and immediately starts trying to get away, something near panic rising in his chest.

For Mohinder, the draw of blood is heaven; for Sylar, it's something like hell, every nerve in his body shrieking in agony. He draws a sharp breath, one full of needles, intent on screaming, but his lungs seize up, trapping the sound on his lips and the air painfully in his lungs. The pain in his mind is likely tangible, felt by every telepath in a five mile radius, for how much like torture the experience is.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Fear just makes it that much better. Mohinder purrs in pleasure and presses Sylar down onto the sofa as he falls on top of him. He's slow with his feeding. He strokes his hair. It's not to be comforting nor to keep him calm. The gesture just seems natural.

Seconds turn into minutes and might as well be hours. Mohinder took his time. Not smart.

He doesnt even flinch when the bullet goes into his head. He just topples over, momentarily stunned. Matt curses.

"Are you all right?" Matt asks, fingers feeling for a pulse on his bloody neck.

[heroslayer]

Sylar doesn't answer, consciousness abandoning him the seconnd Mohinder's off of him, blood loss and sudden pain relief too much for him to take. His pulse is faint but raicing, tiny tremors running through it no less than twice in the time he has his fingers pressed to his skin, his heart threatening to quit entirely. Matt's not sure he'll make it, and in that instant, he's furious.

He wheels on Mohinder, able to feel his thoughts reasserting themselves as the bullet pushes its way out from under his skin, and wedges himself between them, trying to exert his own control over the vampire. "Get up."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

He can taste cordite. The bullet works its way through his nasal passage and into his mouth, nearly making him choke. Mohinder sits up, oblivious to Matt's demand, and coughs the bullet out onto his palm. He curses in Hindi and throws the bullet out in front of him, afraid of it. "Oh God! Oh God you shot me!" he whines. "You shot me and--"

And he's alive!

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, and somehow you're still breathing. But you know what? I don't care. Right now, I'm more worried about him than your sorry ass," he all but snarls. He makes a wild hand gesture in Sylar's direction but doesn't bother looking back at him, himself. He doesn't want to see how shallow his breathing is, how pale he must be, how close to death's door he must be for what little Matt can feel of his thoughts. He's fading fast and Matt's hopes for keeping his family safe are fading with him. "If he dies, I'll unload this entire clip into your head just to see how long we can keep this up. And then I'll find something that can kill you."

He takes a deep, shaky breath and then tries to wrap his mind around his again, putting his all into his words now. "Now, I said get up."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"You knew." Mohinder's more or less I phased by the gun. Or about the man holding it. He snorts. "After all of this, you KNEW he was Sylar! What-- oh, put the damned gun down!"

Mohinder is filled with Sylar's blood. He's more powerful than the last time he and Matt faced off.

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I knew." He doesn't look entirely repentant about that fact, either. His thoughts drift briefly to messy, heated moments and tangled sheets before he tries to put up some kind of wall around his mind. "He's not what you think he is. He was making a difference. More than Nathan ever would have."

That said, he takes another shot at Mohinder's head. He wasn't kidding about unloading the clip into his head.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

He's too quick this time, grabbing the gun from Matt before he tosses it away and shoves the much larger man against the wall. "My God, Matt-- there's low and then there's-- You're sleeping with him?!"

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

Matt pushes back with everything he has both mentally and physically. If Mohinder wasn't hopped up on Sylar's blood, he likely would have just crushed his mind. As it is, he's hoping it has at least some effect.

"You don't know him. I do. And yeah, okay, I mean that in the biblical sense, but ... they blamed a lot of crap on him that wasn't his fault just because he was a good fall guy."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"Do you even know what he wants me to do?!" Mohinder gives Matt another good shove, breath smelling of Sylar's blood and a little like mouthwash. "Your son-- he's going to have clinics inject everyone with this serum I came upon a few months ago. You're going to die. Everyone with an ability is going to die!"

[mentalmastery.livejournal.com]

"No." Matt shakes his head, the word and the gesture not one of denial but of belief. He truly believes Sylar wouldn't do that to him. Other people, maybe, but not him or his son. There's no point to it, no gain, and so much to lose if he just puts the two of them down. "Do you know what he's had me doing the last few months? He has to make it look good, like he's really taking care of the problem, however terrible what he does is, but ... "

But he's been protecting Matt and his family for years now. He's been letting him run his little underground railroad with Bennet. Sylar might very well let Mohinder kill off all the dangerous ones and all the ones stupid enough to actually come to the clinic, but the species will survive. He and his son and the ones he doesn't turn in will survive.

He shoves him back to punctuate this belief.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder let's him break the grapple and glances down at Sylar with a frown. He's dying here, on the sofa. And he can't let him. There's nothing like his blood. There's nothing like his smell. "Stay there," Mohinder growls, pointing at Matt. "Don't you move."