InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Bad hippy! No pachooly!"

unsureidentity (unsureidentity) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2009-05-27 07:56:00

Entry tags:

!open, claire winchester, gabriel 'sylar' gray, james t. kirk (xi), leonard "bones" mccoy (xi), nyota uhura (xi)

WHO: Gabriel "Sylar" Gray (as...HIMSELF *omggasp*), James T. Kirk, Claire Bennet, Nyota Uhura, & OPEN (ask before joining)
WHAT: Gabriel wakes up to a new face in the mirror, one that he knows well but at the same time, has no idea who is.
WHERE: Peter & Sylar's room & the streets
WHEN: early morning
RATING: PG
STATUS: In Progress

He hit his head, that was the first thing that happened when he woke up that morning. It was almost like he'd grown four inches over night. Reaching a hand up to rub at the bump that had been made he found with some dismay that his usually short-trimmed back hair had gotten so much longer and far more unruly. Moving his hand down to his jaw to rub at the stubble that had grown up over the night, his hands traced a jawline that was distinctly not his own. The wide and distinctive Petrelli jawline had become far more streamlined, edging into a point instead of a rounded and flat square form.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and for the hundredth time in as many days, his stomach gave a sharp and unpleasant lurch seconds after his senses returned to him, and he stumbled from the bed, sparing Peter's bunk a quick and nervous glance before crossing to the bathroom, frowning as he studied his arms (far too long, far too hairy) and hands (the fingers were far too long, far too thin) before he reached the mirror and doubled back at the image that greeted him.

"Sylar," He whispered in a voice distinctly not his own, not Nathan Petrelli's. But flashes of the dream that he had had that night rang in his head, all anger and violence until amusement and annoyance replaced those emotions.

Claire's going to be so mad at me.

Those words rang in his ears, sharp and clear as the image of his own body flashed before his eyes. Nathan Petrelli: bleeding, prostrate, and quickly dying. What was left in his stomach of last night's dinner was left behind in the bathroom as he grabbed his coat (almost too small for him now) as he abandoned the room for the streets of Colligo.

He couldn't let Peter see him like this.

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buckleup
2009-05-27 08:03 am UTC (link)

If it weren't for the fact that this man's face--the shape, the eyes, the nose, hell, even the forehead--were all Spock, not to mention the fact that he was the right height, too, Jim probably would have questioned his identity. But, when the man spoke, it became near to impossible to do. That voice was Spock, too. This...had to be Spock. He'd just had something happen to him that had straightened out his face and rounded off his ears.

He blamed the episodes of that horrid Star Trek series he and the Vulcan's girlfriend had watched on the possible scenarios that filled his head that included being captured and having his DNA screwed with until the Human DNA overpowered the Vulcan. Something which made the part of Jim that he made an effort to keep hidden most of the time kick-start to life; a little voice in the back of his mind whispering to him that such was impossible, as Vulcan DNA was dominant over Human, a mental genetic diagram displaying itself in his mind.

Jim pushed that aside.

"My God, Spock," he said finally, "what the hell did this place do to you?"

He reached for his comm to contact Uhura, only to realize he'd grabbed the PDA instead while he was fumbling around in the dark to avoid waking Scotty. Quickly, he punched in a message to his acting first officer, informing her of the real first officer's arrival.

"You hungry?" Jim asked. After all, he'd been wanting food, too. "Come on, let's go sit down somewhere." He didn't move, though. Not yet. He'd wait to see if Spock would go on his own. After all, Jim knew first hand that trying to get a Vulcan to do something they didn't want to do was impossible.