http://hardlydangerous.livejournal.com/ (
hardlydangerous.livejournal.com) wrote in
shatterverse2008-01-23 04:10 pm
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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.
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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(Fortunately, a lot of those bits are hiding. Scary alterna-Gabe is scary.)
Stephen's hands, automatically and half-unconsciously, go to the straps of his jetpack. That's where the controls are.
"I know you, eh? A -- a different you."
It should be noted that he's trying not to sound frightened. You know, just like he was trying to fib earlier.
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Hmmmmmmm.
"Different how?"
Having met the real Nathan Petrelli-- a man, the narration reminds you, whom he killed-- Sylar is not going to discount the idea that there might be another him running around.
He isn't quite sure how he feels about it.
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...Okay, that is so not appropriate as a train of thought right now that there are not even words.
"Just from a different world," offers Steve, who is wracking his brains for what's safe to tell. If he's wrong then there should be no danger in talking about his own Gabriel and the Cooper farm, but there's that margin of uncertainty in which he is in no way prepared to risk it. The thought of a murderous version of the man even knowing of his existence (too late), let alone where he's living, is distinctly unpalateable.
"Eh, I'm sorry. I should've thought." It's an honest apology: with hindsight, calling a man who's never met him by his name was never going to be a good idea, whether or not he knew about alternates. Nice one, Steve.
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Except that to someone who knows what Gabriel looks like when he's trying to suppress anger and succeeding, Sylar really doesn't look all that mild right now.
With growing amusement, still not entirely enough to overpower the much subtler base element of rage: "I think I'd like to meet him."
Willing to risk the consequences of arranging such a meeting, Steve?
--willing to risk the consequences of refusing?
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Oh shit, says his brain.
Emphatically.
His mouth says, after a frantic second: "Not a good idea, really. It's a bit out of your way. Quite a long way out of it, really."
Judging by the unconscious shifting of his fingers on the jetpack's little switches, he's in half a mind to just take off and get the hell out of here. And hope to God that this Gabriel can't fly like Nathan as well as look like him. (To which the narration replies: sucks to be you, Steve.)
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Sylar smiles slowly.
It's not a good smile.
It's not a smile Stephen has ever seen on Gabriel, come to think of it.
"You're not the only one around here who's flight-capable."
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OH GOD HOW DOES HE GET OUT OF THIS. (In both the literal and figurative instances. The version in which 'this' is the proposed meeting is, unfortunately, starting to look like it resides in a seperate reality to the version in which 'this' is suffixed with 'situation in one piece and/or with dry underwear'.)
"...You're pretty skilled," he says weakly, cursing the fact that he doesn't have VADER
and her MISSILES.It fills the time until he can think of another excuse. Dammit, brain, why did you not spend less time on quantum mechanics and more on practicing generating excuses?
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That smile, on the other hand, is actually quite familiar.
It seems that intervening decade hasn't wrought a great many changes on how this man responds to compliments.
Well, except for the fact that the embarrassment is gone.
Bet you never thought you'd be missing Gabe's self-deprecation, eh, Stevie?
"Now about that meeting...?"
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The excuse generator has apparently come into work with a hangover. It will be disciplined later. For now, Sylar, say hi to Stevie being a big brave boy.
"I'd -- rather you didn't."
ARE YOU GOING TO KILL HIM NOW.
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It's polite, in the way that the circling of a shark who awaits the correct moment to eat you is polite.
It's curious, in the way that a cat wondering if this swat will break the mouse's neck is curious.
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"I don't know you," he points out. Well, he's seen enough to know that he doesn't. "And--" he invents "--Gabe might be a bit freaked out that there's two of him, eh?"
...oh, come on, who would say 'because I'm 99% sure you're a dangerous criminal'?
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Not being straight with Sylar is a good way to get yourself killed.
"You know him, don't you? And as you so astutely realized, I am him. Therefore, you know me. Unless of course there's something you're not telling me."
Never mind that Sy's reasonably certain the version Stephen knows is from at least six years in the past.
Let it be known that he is disturbingly good at faking his younger self's cheerful, open innocence when he tries. The mask only cracks around the last five words or so.
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Hurriedly: "Yes, but the whole point of split-off universes is that there are differences, you know, so I doubt you're exactly the same person, and who says you're not from different timelines?"
Steve continues to be bendy with Sylar!
...Oh, hang on. Shit.
"...I mean, you look older."
Backtracking Steve is backtracking.
"Your hair's..." Gesture.
Give a man enough rope, or so the saying goes.
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Sylar runs a hand throu--oh dear lord.
Gabriel's embarrassed look is one with which Steve is no doubt familiar.
But he has probably never seen this version. It's considerably subtler and tinged vaguely with disgust.
Nevertheless: slightly too set off-balance to think of a verbal response in time to close the widening gap in both the conversation and his upper hand thereon.
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"It's a mess," says Steve apologetically, because he knows how much Gabriel likes order and neatness and he is so totally ready to exploit that in this very special case (he forcibly ignores the guilt, because this is not his Gabriel). "I guess it's too much to hope you had a comb in your hand when you got pulled here?"
He doesn't have a death wish, we promise. He is actually going somewhere with this.
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DO YOU HAVE A COMB, STEVE?
On Gabriel this level of interest would be cute. On Sylar it's just plain creepy.
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"A lot of people loot things from a city I know. Could find one there."
What, Smallville? Pah! Metropolis is waaaaay off in the other direction, or so he hears. It shouldn't be too hard to find from the air. Possibly. Hopefully.
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Notably, the earth fails to rumble at this catastrophic shift.
"Lead on."
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(As he lifts off the ground a few inches, he can't stop himself from glancing in a farm-ish direction, but he does manage to turn it into a general all-around look of a hopefully unsuspicious bearings-getting nature.)
"...This way." He demonstrates by nodding his head in the direction he imagines Metropolis (or, hell, anywhere far far away from Smallville) will be. As he starts off, not looking away from Sylar, his fingers' temporary fumble on their switches reminds him unpleasantly of the amount to which he's scared.
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But he can't help admitting to a grudging admiration for the way he keeps it in.
Worthy, he muses, of being a friend to his younger self.
The silent, graceful midair glide is totally not showing off. Not at all. Nope.
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...The glide is, he's forced to admit, impressive. (If it was his Gabe he'd be able to enjoy it and congratulate him and explore new sets of directions with him, not fly along wondering whether he's going to be attacked from behind.)
...
Metropolis is not yet in evidence. But Steve swears this is just because they're not flying high enough to see it. Swears it.
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Yet.
...Steve, you're not going to like this, but Sylar has another one of those looks on that's familiarly Gabrielesque only a thousand times less telegraphed.
From Gabriel, it's quite a flattering look.
From this man...
Well. At least you can be fairly sure Gabe's taste isn't going to change in the next decade?
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...Um. He's just going to get back on course and wonder whether to be immensely disturbed.
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Surprisingly, he laughs.
A few things are starting to come together here.
"So when you say you know the younger me...?"
For all it's delivered lightly, the don't bullshit me on this one is a strongly implied undercurrent.
Sylar wants to know.
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Steve's shifty-eyes are lost on the birds.
...for obvious reasons, he'd rather announce this to everyone back home through a tannoy from the school roof than to the guy flying behind him, but the undercurrent is quite clear and he's already pushing his luck with this decoy.
"...We, uh..."
His ankles just tangled, Sy. There's your answer.
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