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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"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.

"But the explanation is so loooong." Whine.

"I have time."

An eternity of it, to be exact.

"What makes you think I have time?"

"You have time if I say you do."

Sam gives this some long consideration.

"No," He eventually decides. "I don't think I do."

"Why not?"

Hands clasped behind his back, head slightly tilted, eyebrows raised, smile just this side of flirtatiously smirky.

"Well, y'know. The fact that I don't build m'life around what you say." Beat. "Also, that you've already pretty much told me everything I want to know."

"Does the fact that I gave you a pony count for nothing?"

It's amazing how well he can ride the line between open mockery and an inclusive, kindly-meant jest.

"Very little. Bye!" Turning away.

(He may, once again, be being deliberately aggravating.)