Who: Sylar gabrielgray & OTA What: Semi-Observing The Marker When: Monday, May 4, evening Where: Circling The Marker Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised Warnings: He's a reformed sociopath. You do the math. Status:Open Closed/Complete
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"I'm a hero."
Sylar mumbled the words to himself as he circled The Marker. It was organic and yet not. Alive and yet dead. There was something menacing to it which he couldn't fathom. He was not familiar with the feeling of fear any longer. Emotions came from outside himself, not from within. Was he afraid? Could he be afraid? It seemed likely as he walked around the barrier of sandbags keeping him away from the alien piece itself. Every time he looked at it, he had to grab his eyes, wince, look away.
His gift allowed him to understand everything, anything, instantly. This thing was not meant to be understood. It did not want to be understood. It wanted to lie and lie and lie until it got what it needed. Why couldn't he figure out what it needed? Food? Was it hungry? There was a sensation akin to hunger within it when he could look at it. Daring another glance, he made a sound of pain before covering his eyes again, looking to the ground as he kept pacing.
"Liar," he hissed at it.
No one thought he was a hero. Claire blamed him for murders he'd already committed. Elle wanted him to kill her again when she was miraculously alive. Both women hated him yet he loved them, both of them, in the only way he understood love. They were people he understood. Their workings were as simple as cheap watches sold on street corners from knock-off vendors. It wasn't because they were cheap or imitations; it was because they were like him, exactly like him, and they were the heroes of the future.
Why couldn't they simply accept they were heroes too?
Sylar thought it made perfect sense. They could all be heroes together. No one would be able to complain if they fought only for the right cause. This liar could be vanquished with their gifts. They could take it apart. Tear it apart. Tear it down. Dismantle it.
His telekinesis moved the sandbags as he shuffled toward The Marker, his hand was outstretched as he pushed at it with his powers, "I don't believe your lies."
He didn't know what it would do to him or to The Marker for him to touch it. All he knew was he could hurt it. The thing was hurting him to keep him from figuring it out which meant he could hurt it. Logic was always on his side. Even when he'd been nothing more than a watchmaker's son, he had known how to rationalize any situation. This was one he was very familiar with because it was David versus Goliath only The Marker mistakenly believed itself to be Goliath when really, Sylar was no David.
Sylar was a different kind of hero than one of legend. He was unique.