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Flash. BANG.

And somewhere in the ruin of New York, not far from a parkful of triffids, three people appear in varying states of confusion.

Darla was leaning against a wall. Since that wall is now thin air, there's a bit of a flail as she sorts out her balance.

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She's slightly more concerned with splatting triffids than she is with Sylar's mood.

Nevertheless, Dar's starting to get a little angry herself. All she did was point out that he kills people. Why is he pissed at her?

Because she pointed out that he kills people? Or maybe because he's fairly sure that, without her there being all reasonable, he could have persuaded Chandra that he doesn't? Because this, to Sylar, equates to her messing everything up?

Splat splat splat.

Splat splat--

--wait--

Why is she doing this individually, again?

Her hands are already out and up, mirroring the focus of her mind on destruction after destruction.

They lift a little higher.

As one entity, the gathering of triffids starts to shake.

And shake.

And--

--splat.

Okay now Darla needs to sit down.

Resting in the dirt with her arms crossed on her knees and her head pillowed on her forearms, it really doesn't look like she plans on standing up anytime soon.

...Wow. Okay, he felt that.

Sylar shields himself from bits of flying triffid.

And since they now seem to be out of danger, of course it is the appropriate time to start shouting again. It's not even to do with desire for her power, though that is getting insistant; he's just really kind of angry.

"I should have just killed you, as soon as you showed me."

See, Darla, in his twisted little universe, this is your fault.

"Right," she says, sounding more sarcastic than tired and more tired than anything else, "because that would've solved all your bloody problems."

You know things are bad when she doesn't excuse her swearing.

"I would have that."

Gesture to the large chunks of vegetable that are scattered about, occasionally twitching.

"I wouldn't have Chandra knocking at the door and trying to end it again."

That comes out in a snarl. Chandra isn't the only one drawing less-than-fond parallels with that argument.

She raises her head.

You couldn't call it a glare, but you couldn't call it friendly, either.

"So try me, or shut up about it," says a very fed-up Darla.

I just leveled an army of triffids and I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, says her tone.

She knew she shouldn't have brought Chandra.

There's no verbal reply from Sylar as he stalks forwards. However, the sideways lash of his fist may well be an answer, accompanied as it is by a telekinetic blow with which he hopes to knock her out. (Well, he's not about to try it with her conscious. He saw what she did to the triffids.)

It's quick. You might even say it was coming anyway, whatever her answer.

Dar doesn't even move.

Sylar, on the other hand, falls like a mag-lev train with the power cut.

Sighing, she stands and goes to look for Chandra.

HERE COMES CHANDRA TO SAVE THE DA--

--oh, hang on.

He sprints up, and pants loudly, and looks generally horrified. The sleeping Gabr... Sylar gets a stare. To Darla: "What-- are you all right?"

"Fine."

Okay, so she clearly isn't.

"That could sure as fuck have gone better-- where on Earth are we? If 'Earth' is even applicable?"

Chandra doesn't answer immediately, because he's still looking at Sylar. There's only so much detail you can make out when you're running from a distance, but it's obvious that some kind of disagreement went on here. And Chandra wouldn't be terribly surprised to find out that Sylar was to blame. Apt that he wants a different name, because it can't be Gabriel who did those things. Not the Gabriel Chandra knew.

He looks rather like he wants to kick him.

Chandra does look up at Darla after a few seconds, though. "...You think this is a different planet?"

Okay, so there were triffids. But this is a man who makes it his business to deal with gods and monsters on a daily basis.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I just..."

Try to stand. Fail. Shake head again.

"...don't know."

...oh God, she's exhausted. And well she might be, after saving them from all those triffids. How did he not realise this?

"Do you need help?" he offers, worried, and moves to offer her a hand.

"Yeah."

Darla dredges up a smile out of God only knows where and accepts the hand. There! Standing up is now possible. With help. And perhaps some discreet leaning.

"...I vote we be elsewhere when he wakes up," she says after a moment's pause to catch her breath. Slight nod to the slumbering Gabr-Sy-whoever.

"We're just going to let him go?"

Chandra is more of the opinion that they should be making a beeline for the nearest police station.

Also, Darla will find a hand on her shoulder assisting with her balance. Chandra's nice like that.

"Well-- thanks-- d'you see anything resembling a precinct house? A working phone, even?"

Dar shrugs slightly.

"Look, we've just been assaulted by fictional plants and we're surrounded by things that pretty clearly used to be skyscrapers a few months ago. I don't think we can find anybody who's got the time or the inclination to deal with him. If he's lucky he'll wake up before the next wave of triffids shows up, and if we're lucky he won't think to follow us, or at least won't succeed at it."

That...

...is a point.

Let it be known that Chandra is still extremely reluctant to just walk away and leave this man unpunished. (Then again, Darla's right: there might be more triffids.)

Then again... mysterious teleportation, strange and desolate place, imminent danger. These are all things to be considered.

"...we should find some kind of civilization," he mutters.

"I'm all for it," Dar agrees.

Now if only she could, you know, walk unaided. That would be nice.

Until she can, Chandra is more than willing to act as the aid.

"And somewhere to rest," he adds gently.

"Yeah, definitely. Hey, looks like there might be a working car over there; worth checking out, don't you think?"

It would seem Darla has recovered sufficiently to start talking incessantly again.

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