(no subject)

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Sylar inna field.

Sent to sleep with superpowers.

Not yet eaten by Triffids.















Botherable.

Comments

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

Sylar inna sky!

Not expecting duplicate.

Expecting unconscious duplicate less.





Descending rapidly.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Zzzzz.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

Huh.



Damn.



*nudge*

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Zzzzzzz~~

Sylar, for the record, landed face-down and none-too-comfortably. He shifts a little.

""

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

...Sy-over-here is just going to logically conclude that either a) that was directed at Not Him or b) this alternate is really cranky in the mornings.

The mornings that are afternoons, and on the ground in parks strewn with dead triffids.

Okay then.

Crouching beside the younger him, Sylar gives his duplicate's shoulder a gentle shake.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

This Sylar (and oh God, the narration is getting a headache already) is slowly and reluctantly coming to realise that he must not have gotten the first blow in.

...at least he's not scattered across the landscape?

He rolls over uncomfortably, all ready to (once he gets his equilibrium back, ow ow ow) leap up and rip the top off Darla's--










--that's... not Darla.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

An understandable reaction, to be sure.

Sylar-Here smiles wryly, offering Sylar-There a hand up.

"Yes. We're alternates. You'll get used to it."

And all that sci-fi they read as a kid will finally come in handy!

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

This-Sylar stares at the hand. It is his hand. On his arm. However, he still seems to possess the requisite number of limbs. That's his face up there, plus a few years (are his eyebrows really that big?), and yet here (after checking) is his own face still firmly attached to his head.

...

"Is this to do with the flash and the teleporting?" he demands. And accepts the hand up, because lying in the dirt is less than fun.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

"Precisely."

And now that they're both standing, "What happened here?"

You know. With the rampant destruction and the napping amid the slowly decaying vegetable matter.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

From This-Sylar's face, it was not something good. Which in general points to someone getting one over on him.

Here is the less embarrassing part:

"There were... triffids."

He dares you to laugh at him. At least it sounds marginally better than 'trained attack flowers'.

[hardlydangerous.livejournal.com]

...okay. On the one hand, triffids. On the other hand, stranger things, right? And the dismembered shrubs liberally splattered over the ground look like they might have been triffidish once.

Sylar-Here nods, and waits.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

What, you think there was more? There was no more. That was the whole story. La la la pls to be looking the other way.

...Sylar wonders if it's possible to outstare yourself.

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

The Bunny pokes the sleeping vagrant.

With a stick.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Face down in the dirt, being prodded by a floppy-eared rodent. What a way to wake up.

"Grrrflngh," Sylar tells the ground.

Give him a moment. His brain just got biokinetically bitchslapped.

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

The Bunny pokes him again. It's fun to prod people. "Hey, nerd boy, what the fisk you doin'?" Then he gets a good thought, and hops closer, seeing if the body happens to have any suspicious bulges, that might be wallets.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

An approximation of what is running through this particular Sylar's head right now: oh no, not again.

Many philosophers have speculated that if we knew precisely why Sylar thought this, we should know a great deal more about the workings of the universe than we do now.

It's thought rather angrily.

The stick snaps, very abruptly, because Sylars do not enjoy being poked with them. Then Sylar looks up and sees the Bunny.










"...you've got to be joking."

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

"Damn you're awake." The Bunny tosses away his stick, sadly. It was a good stick. "Right, your money or your life." As he pulls out one of his favorite switchblades.

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

((ooc: Definitely okay))

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Sylar stands up rather quickly. It's not his favourite switchblade.

How does the Bunny feel about being yanked up to his eye-level via a none-too-gentle invisible hand at the scruff of his neck? It should be fairly clear what's causing it, seeing as Sylar's own hand rises slightly with the movement, and also that his expression screams bloody murder. Apparently he's not a morning person.

"How about yours?"

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

"GOD DAMN IT!" The Bunny throws his knife at the ground, with more then enough force to bury the blade in the earth. He is just simply sick and tired of all this shit. Go from places where he can threaten people to no end to someplace like this- "The fiskin' squirrels can teleport, the fiskin' plants walk around, the lizards grow to fiskin' incredible sizes, even the mother fiskin' cats can throw lightning, and now the monkeys get powers as well? I am sick and fisking tired of this fisking world!"

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

"And the overgrown rodents talk too much," snarls Sylar, who does not appreciate being called a monkey.

He had assumed that unexpected teleportation, attacking flowers and meeting an older version of himself would be the weirdest things to happen to him today, but apparently the universe is conspiring to prove him wrong.

"Did you say 'world'?"

...because that would actually make far more sense than he's quite comfortable with.

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

The rabbit scrabbles in mid air, trying to get some kind of purchase. "Yes, I said world. What's it to you?"

[leto-reficio.livejournal.com]

Sorry, Bunny. Sylar is not in an obliging enough frame of mind to let you near a pawhold.

"What exactly," he demands, "has happened here?"

You know. With the brokenness and the monsters and the being flashbanged in and all.

[misterbunny.livejournal.com]

The Bunny sighs and relaxes, letting himself twist in the wind, so to speak. God damn all... "Fine. World went to hell. All sorts of monsters showed up. Near as I can tell, 80 to 90 percent of the worlds population got killed off. Now it's bringing in people from other places."