shatterverse | (no subject)

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There's a flash and a bang and a very confused man with ridiculous hair appears, hovering a few feet above the rubble of a destroyed parking lot.

Hey, when you can cast illusions, you don't need a comb.

"...The hell?" Sylar starts to say, and before he's quite done with the sentence it's President Nathan Petrelli who's making the quizzical exclamation to empty air, settling gently to the ground.

You can never be too careful.

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It's difficult to tell whether Sam's convinced or not.

"Self-confidence is important." Solemnly.

"Naturally."

President Petrelli smiles like a shark.

Sylar doesn't smile like any kind of animal, because no kind of animal can look this calculating.

Not even armadillos?

"So, next question: What else can you do?"

Not even armadillos with abaci.

"Plenty of things," Sylar responds guardedly. "I don't keep a list on hand."

Though since one of them is eidetic memory, he doesn't need to.

"That's not really an answer."

"Is this?"

Where 'this' is a casual gesture that picks up a piece of rubble and cracks it neatly in two.

Showoff.

"No, but practical demonstrations are always fun."

"So they are."

"I know."

"And you? Got any fun practical demonstrations for me, or are you the listing type?"

Sam considers this.

Fair's fair, he supposes.

He flicks his hands, weaving several threads of light into several streams and then into a blast which ignites to become a rather blindingly bright gold flame. He absently blasts a piece of rubble with it.

"Your turn."

Well then.

Remember the 'Boom' moment?

Yeah. Like that.

"Oooh. Pretty."

"It is," Sylar agrees.

"More demonstrations, please." Solemnly.

"It's not my turn."

...good God, this kid is infectious.

"Sure it is!"

"I believe you'll find it's yours," Sylar says mildly.

Pout.

Sam reluctantly snaps his fingers. A sphere of light forms around him for a few brief moments, before fading away.

Well in that case.

Sylar calls a chunk of broken asphalt into his hand and casually freezes it solid.

Pfft, Sylar. Pffft.

Sam looks rather smug as he calls a piece of asphalt to his own hand and freezes it.

...O RLY, says Sylar's face.

Sylar's fingers, on the other hand, squeeze the lump of icy rock slightly-- and it liquefies, dripping down between his fingers in a grey-black rush.

Messy but entertaining.

Sam may look a little sulky at that.

He grinds his own icy rock between his hands, very quickly grinding it down to dust.

Hmm.

Sylar's next step takes him up into the air, and he hovers easily before settling back to the ground.

More sulkyness.

Sam pauses for a moment before briefly turning into a glowing mist, sliding around Sylar before turning back into a solid-person-thingy.

There may be smugness.