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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"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.

"You've already done that," he comments mildly.

And then: "Rain coming." Tilting his head to the east.

"Let me guess, you can foresee the future?"

"No, that's a different one. I can hear it."

"Huh. Okay." A little sulkily.

"Got anything else for me?"

Why yes, he is smug, why do you ask?

"Plenty. A lot of them are difficult to demonstrate. This one isn't." He closes his eyes, briefly. There's a rumbling from beneath the ground before a tree bursts it's way through the metal.

"That's... impressive."

Slight frown.

"Do it again."

(And this time he'll look, and listen, properly.)

Sam laughs, a little.
"What do I get in return?"

Sylar smiles, sharp and cold and faintly amused.

"What do you want?"

Sam considers, thoughtfully.
"A pony!" Grinning. "Everyone wants a pony."

Hmm.

There's a pile of bricks nearby. He looks at it consideringly.

Some time later, there's a brick encased in frost with a little brick neck on which rests a brick head, four brick legs ending in brick hooves, and even a mane and tail. Made from brick dust.

It's a good thing there's enough humidity in the air to hold it all together.

Tossing it lightly to Sam: "Will that do?"

"I didn't think you'd take me seriously." Sam remarks, faintly amused. With a flick of his hand, he makes another tree grow.

And this time--

--so that's how it works.

"You're so rarely serious," Sylar teases, smirking slightly.

Like most (or all) of Sam's powers, it has very little connection to genes, relying instead on some intuitive manipulation of a rather unique cocktail of internalised energies. It's a jumble of telekinesis, plant growth manipulation, water manipulation and a big burst of nutrients and energy.

"True, true." Sagely.

The lack of genetics means it's open neither to absorption nor outright theft.

Which means he's going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

"So how'd you come by such a collection?"

DID IT INVOLVE BRAINZ?

"Various ways." Mildly.

"And here I thought we had a deal."

Similarly mild.