|mynameissylar (mynameissylar) wrote in parabolical,|
@ 2008-03-31 20:11:00
Who: Sylar [Narrative]
What: Sylar has a disturbing vision.
Where: An L.A. motel room.
It had been two days since Sylar’s ill-fated attempt to finally finish off Claire Bennet once and for all, an attempt that had ended in Sylar knocked unconscious thanks to one Elle Bishop. Needless to say, Sylar had spent little of the last couple days thinking of anything else, his head full of embarrassment (how had he let that girl get the better of him?) and frustration.
Upon waking up, he had returned to the motel room he and Elle had been holed up in, and – apart from a couple quick trips for food - had not left the room. A part of him felt like he should be out there, on the streets, trying to find the two (he hoped they were together where ever they were – it would make things so much easier for him). But he convinced himself it would best to try to formulate some sort of plan first. And besides, the time allowed him to relax (as much as he could, at least) and recover. He still felt as if he was somehow destined to find Claire – perhaps Wolfram & Hart, the law firm that had brought him to this world, had something to do with it. But, whatever the case, it hadn’t taken him long at all to find her upon his arrival here, and so he found comfort in the idea that when he finally did go looking again, he wouldn’t have a hard time. And if Bishop was with her, all the better – a nice “electricity power” dessert for his “healing factor” dinner, so to speak.
Currently, Sylar was sitting on the edge of the room’s bed, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV. He wasn’t really paying any attention to the images before him, but found the somewhat “normal” routine to be one of the few things that could get his mind off the cheerleader. Suddenly, though, he was overcome with a familiar feeling – albeit one he had not encountered in quite some time. Months ago he had taken the abilities of one Isaac Mendez, a painter with precognition powers. Following his murder of Mendez, Sylar had used the power to paint his own visions of the future, and it was that same feeling he had felt then that was overtaking. He didn’t understand. In the past, he had always concentrated and brought on the visions himself. They had never been forced upon him, until now.
Still, he had little time to wonder why this was happening…the need to paint whatever vision he was about to have was too strong, he knew he was powerless to control it. With no painting tools at his disposal, Sylar was forced to simply grab a pencil and a small notepad off of the nightstand. As he hand started to furiously scribble away onto the paper, Sylar’s eyes clouded over, and he blacked out…
When he came to, a quick glance at the clock showed that only a minute or so had passed. He threw the pencil he still held to the ground, before turning his attention to the notepad that lay on the floor at his feet. It had fallen upside down, so he could not see the image he had drawn while in his uncontrollable state. He hesitated…the last time he had followed these visions, it hadn’t worked out all that well for him. Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of him, and he bent down and picked the notepad up.
He flipped it over, and stared at horror at the picture. This couldn’t be right. It was a rough image – not surprising, given the speed it had been completed in. Still, what it depicted was unmistakable. It was him and Claire Bennet. He had the young cheerleader in his arms, but it was not a forceful grab, not the moment he had often fantasized about, when he would finally claim her abilities as his own. Instead, the drawing showed the two embracing, holding each other close, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. He dropped the picture to the ground, but this time it fell image side up, as if to continue taunting him. He could not take his eyes away from it.