2007-03-08: Game Over


Mara_icon.gif Mohinder_icon.gif Sylar_icon.gif

Date It Happened: March 08, 2007

Summary: There are no words that can properly summarize this scene. Except maybe "blood and violence." Mara loses at Sylar's game.

Game Over

Police Station

It comes as very little surprise that Sylar was transferred to an isolated holding cell after his escape attempt. One would have to pass through two locked doors just to reach the cell, which is still barred off from the rest of the room. Interviews are still able to be conducted more or less face-to-face, while still providing protection for the officer against the most violent detainees. Guess who qualifies.

Detective Damaris steps through the door and levels her gaze on the prisoner. "Hello, Gray." /Her/ prisoner, as far as she's concerned. "Lovely stunt you pulled there. Almost cocked everything up for the both of us."

The cockroach crawls slowly across the back of Sylar's hand, and the killer turns it as the cockroach makes its trek across the skin. The killer stares at it, his head tilting from side time to time as the cockroach crawls around under his palm, and only when Mara enters does he look up, watching her from underneath his eyebrows with his head tilting down slightly. He smirks, closing his hand around the cockroach and lowering it. "Hello, detective. How's the throat?"

Mara slowly undoes the buttons of her jacket and locks her eyes on Sylar's. Watching him watch her as she parts the denim to reveal the blossom of dark purple bruises, the array turning a sickly yellow green where his thumbs threatened to crush her windpipe. The look in her hazel eyes is achingly curious… with a touch of something far darker.

Sylar watches with a twisted sense of voyeurism, waiting to see the bruises he's put on the detective. When they're finally revealed, Sylar smiles and nods his approval at his own work. "They look… lovely," he begins, but he turns his head to the side and regards the detective with an air of curiosity himself. "But surely you didn't come here just to show me my handiwork, did you?"

Mara traces her own fingertips over the fingerprints on her throat, teasing. "Do they suit me?" She already knows the answer to that, and so she doesn't wait for it. "They almost wouldn't let me come back here. But you won't talk to anybody else, will you?"

"They suit you well," Sylar responds, nodding. He considers her for a moment, and then shrugs, standing up and moving closer to the bars. "Why wouldn't they? Afraid I'll hurt you more? Afraid you'll hurt /me/ more? Not that your pathetic attempts at hurting me have done any good." This, of course, goes directly against the bandages and stitches on his face. But he doesn't seem to care. It's all about the mind game. "I want to talk to you because you have an ability. Why don't you tell me about it? I can't wait to find out about it, or maybe even try it out for myself, detective."

Mara walks forward until she's close enough to wrap her fingers around the bars. "Afraid I'd piss you off and you'd make another break for it. That you'd kill somebody to piss me off. You almost ruined all. our. fun." Her tongue darts between her lips and she tilts her head to one side, "I'll tell you every last delicious little detail about what I can do, Gabriel, if you tell me where to find that sword you took from Nakamura."

The hunger in Sylar's eye grows as Mara begins her deal, but once the moment the swords comes up, the hunger is gone. It's replaced with an air of indifference, and Sylar takes a step backwards towards his bed. "The sword is in a safe place," he begins, opening his fist so the cockroach can once again crawl over his skin. He watches it for a few moments, before quickly closing his fist back over it and snapping his eyes towards Mara. "You'll never get your hands on it. The sword is mine. If you don't want to tell me about your ability, then so be it. I'll find out for myself eventually. You can't keep me in here forever."

"Don't be like that, Gabriel." Mara's expression is coy. Nearly flirtatious. "You can tell me. I'll take such good care of it. I might even bring it by so you can have a look, if you're a very, /very/ good boy for me." She grins slowly and leans closer to the bars, nearly pressing her body against them. "Please?"

Sylar, who absolutely loves to have the upper hand in any given situation, already has his next move planned. He turns back to Mara, smiling, and he nods. "Alright," he concedes, taking a step closer, and lowering his voice. "There's an apartment," he says, gazing at Mara and never looking away, "off of Danielle street. Markham Rise. Apartment B6. It's on the second floor of the building." The serial killer takes another step closer, and smirks. "— It's where I'm going to kill you." Suddenly, he opens his fist, and throws the cockroach at Mara— and right after that, hoping the cockroach serves as a well enough distraction, he shoots his arms out towards hers, with the clear intention to grab her and pull her tightly against the bars.

Mara's grin grows wider as Sylar starts to give the address. That's my boy. Even when he proclaims that he intends to kill her at the apartment, she doesn't falter. Though she's not a complete fool. She's already started to step back by the time he's reached the bars. The cockroach being thrown at her? That threw a wrench in her escape. One hand snaps away instantly to bat away the roach, but the other arm is captured. Awkwardly, she's dragged into the bars with a grunt.

Laughter follows. She stares through the bars at Sylar. "Kill me now, and you'll never know. I really think you'd like to play my game."

"Oh, Mara, Mara, Mara," Sylar chides, frowning at her and lowering his head to the side a little bit. The classic 'how could you?' look. "When will you ever learn? You're the one playing /my/ game. Why do you think you keep coming back? You simply can't get enough of me." He tightens his grip on her, and if he can, will pull her tighter and tighter against the bars, slowly. He moves his head forward, so close their foreheads are almost touching as he stares at Mara with an absolute hunger. "I'll never tell you where the sword is. It's /mine/. Just like your ability. Just like /you/."

Mara's eyes stare intently back at Sylar's and it's as if she knows no fear. "You are just-" The detective catches herself before she makes the mistake of calling Sylar 'just a man.' "I come back because I want to. Because I want my answers. And because I love watching you try to figure out what I can do. I love knowing that even if you somehow /succeed/," there's no hesitation at the admission that he may just get what he's after in the end, "you won't know where to begin. It will be your undoing."

Sylar grip increases further, to the point where bruises may form if he doesn't let go soon. He matches Mara's gaze, and leans his head forward that much further, so he's barely touching her forehead with his own. "Oh, I'll know, detective," he says, grinning, "I've had plenty of experience. Your power is a shiny new toy, and it won't take any time at all to master it. Then I'll use it. I'll use it to help me kill. I told you you can't stop me. I'm a murderer. A killer. You'll find out soon, firsthand. Bruises and Nakamura's sword will be the least of your worries."

The detective's gaze is finally averted to her arm for the briefest of moments. But she doesn't flinch. "Mark my words, Gabriel Gray, if you ever manage to acquire my power, it will be the death of you." She tilts her head back to expose the bruises on her throat better, even though the angle is a touch difficult. "You can touch them, if you like. I'm not ashamed."

The look Mara gives her arm is noticed, and Sylar yanks on her arm, pulling her closer than ever. He ignores the bruises on her throat, and lowers her voice as his eyes stare angrily into hers. "I already told you once," he says, digging his fingers into her wrist, "my name is /Sylar/. Say it." His voice is angry, almost a growl. "/Say it./"

"Never." Mara stares back, defiant. All the same, her fingers are starting to tremble under the strain.

Suddenly, music plays loudly from Mara's back pocket. Her cell phone. "Do I attract you? Do I repulse you with my queasy smile? Am I too dirty? Am I too flirty? Do I like what you like?" the ringtone asks in song.

When the phone goes off, Sylar actually looks taken aback for a moment. But then he has his composure again, and he smiles menacingly. "I wonder who that could be?" he says tauntingly, looking down to her waist. "Your boyfriend? Your mother? Father? .. Maybe a sister?" He swiftly moves a hand down, sticking his arm through the bars of his cell and reaching for the phone, trying to find it as he pulls her forward with his other arm, in case she tries to escape.

Mara was already trying to pull back as soon as Sylar found himself surprised by the sudden outburst. At the very least, she's trying to wriggle her hips away from the killer so he can't reach her pocket. "It's just a voice mail! You won't get anybody anyway!" She braces herself against the bars with her free hand, trying to push against them and free her arm from that vice grip.

"Don't worry," Sylar says, toying with Mara at this point, "we'll call them back!" He reaches around further, getting his hand closer to the phone— but he pauses for a moment to focus on keeping ahold of her arm. He increases his grip, pulling violently at her arm, his face dangerously close to hers. "Don't be stubborn, now, detective! Don't you want to hear what they had to say?!" He says this tauntingly, once again reaching his hand around to try and grab the phone, his fingers brushing against her pocket.

Mara yelps with surprise as she's yanked fully against the bars, causing them to rattle with the impact. The phone is now within reach. "I won't give you the passcode," she vows. That may stop him from checking the message, but he can still press send to call back the last person she spoke to.

Success. Sylar slips his fingers into Mara's pocket, gets a grip on the phone, and pulls it out of the pocket. He leans back so he can look at the screen, going into recent calls. "I don't need the passcode, detective, I'll just call them myself," he says, one hand still gripping her arm, but with his other hand holding the phone, he doesn't have as much leverage as before. He presses send with his thumb, dialing back the number that just called.

It's a rather boring, standard ringtone that Mohinder has. When it goes off, it rings once, then twice as he tears himself away from the microscope. Seeing Mara's number on the id, he answers promptly. "Mara? I got your message earlier, sorry about the delay in getting back with you."

"Hang it up," Mara shouts toward the phone, struggles ceased for now. Her words are intended for Mohinder, because there's no use telling Sylar what to do. "Hang up!!" She rests her head against the bars and shuts her eyes tightly. Dammit. Dammit!

Sylar waits patiently for the other end to pick up, and when they do, he is pleasantly surprised. "… Hello, Mohinder," he says, glancing at Mara for a moment with a pleased grin, and a look that almost says 'you naughty girl'. "Tell me, Doctor. How are you these days? I'm with Mara, and she's just /dying/ to talk to you." To emphasize, he holds the phone out towards Mara, so her shouts go directly into the phone.

Mohinder blinks, rising from his seat. He hears Mara shouting in the background. The blood drains from his face, not that there's much of a color change as it happens. Mouth going dry as he hears Sylar's voice on the other end of the line, he is quiet for several moments. "What have you done Sylar? You're not doing anything to improve your situation." He hears the shouting, he knows Mara's still alive.. this has to be a trap.. right? "Are you still at the police station? Tell me where you are."

"Hang up the bloody phone, dammit!" Mara strains to hear Mohinder's end of the conversation. Fortunately, the earpiece is turned up all the way, so that isn't too terribly difficult. "I'm fine! Just hang up the phone!"

Sylar puts the phone back to his ear so he can hear Mohinder, and he shakes his head, even though the doctor can't see it. "Now now, Mohinder, I think my situation is quite favorable. Besides, I can't tell you where I'm at," Sylar says as he violently twists Mara's arm clockwise further than it's supposed to be twisted, straining the elbow and pulling it forward. He makes sure the phone is in range to pick up her reaction as he speaks to the doctor. "You'll come and ruin all the fun."

Mohinder has no intention of hanging up. Not yet. "You're quite right, and we can't have that. What did you do to Detective Damaris? Tell me. I'm sure you're just wanting to let me know. Unless you called me for some other reason." Surely.. they must still be at the station.. Mara wouldn't be so foolish as to relocate the man..

Mara's eyes pop open wide with surprise and try as she might, she cannot stop the startled and strangled cry that tears from her throat. Finally, she loses her temper. "You son of a bitch! Let go of me!" Her free hand grips at the bars and she clenches her teeth, breath hissing in and out between.

Sylar chuckles at Mara's reaction, keeping the arm twisted in his hand as he continues to talk to the doctor, continously applying pressure to it. "I've just begun with Detective Damaris, doctor. I'm nowhere near finished with her." He looks over at Mara, making eye contact and never breaking it as he talks to Mohinder. "Why don't you tell me all about her, doctor? I know she has an ability, just like me. Why don't you tell me what it is, and I'll let her go?"

"She doesn't have an ability Sylar," Mohinder says, lying through his teeth. "I've tested her thoroughly. There is no ability. I've detected a mass in her brain, a tumor. She's an ordinary human, someone not worth your time. You might as well release her. She's not worth your time." The tumor? First thing that popped into his head. "You of all people know how valuable time is. Isn't that right Sylar?"

Mara meets Sylar's eyes, looking more defiant than she feels. This becomes evident as her knees start to buckle, which doesn't help the awkward angle of her arm at all. Her brow creases with the effort it takes not to cry out again or to cry. Her brave face stays, but barely.

"You're lying!" Sylar screams out, and when he does, he twists Mara's arm further. If it's going to take her crying out again to convince Mohinder, so be it. He must know about her ability. He /needs/ to know. "She's all but confirmed it, doctor. I know she has one. I thought you knew me better than that, better than to try and /lie/ to me. Tell me, and tell me now, before I snap her arm in two. Then the fun will /really/ begin."

Mohinder narrows his eyes before closing them, silently cursing that the story didn't work. Into the phone, he tries to remain calm. "Sylar.. where are you? I can show you why she's of no interest to you. Let. Her. Go. If you're still at the station.. they will kill you. Do you want to die? Without taking more abilities, as they rightfully belong to you?" Oh it's a dangerous game, this conversing with Sylar.

Mara bites into her lower lip until she draws blood, pounding her free hand against the bars to vent that way, rather than scream for Sylar. He still forces her to sob softly. The brave one is gone in a heartbeat. Angry eyes now beg and plead as she scrambles anew to try and free herself.

"Yes, that's right," Sylar says, keeping his eyes on Mara as she begins to sob. "Let it all out, detective. Let the doctor hear." the psychopath falls silent, holding the phone close enough to Mara so her sobs transmit through the cell's mic. He puts the phone back to his ear, taking a look around his cell as he speaks, and can't help but smile at the situation. "Did you hear that, Mohinder? Do you hear her pitiful sobs?" Sylar snaps his attention back to Mara when she begins to scramble, and he pulls again, twisting the arm just a bit more. He seems to be restraining himself, somewhat, as if he's afraid to break it. But it could be he's just saving the best for last.

Mohinder listens to this over the phone, pacing around his work station, not sure of what to do. Then, probably not the smartest of things to say as he's listening to Mara in the background, he says, quite harshly, "Sylar. Let her go. Or I am hanging up and my next call will be to an authority you don't want to go to. I personally will over see cutting you into pieces for study."

"Hang. up. the /phone/." Mara begins to beg Sylar for mercy, for all the good it will do her. "Let go of me. There won't be any retaliation if you just let me go now." Her voice is weak and strained from the pain. "Mohinder, hang up the phone. Please!"

"Who are you going to call, Mohinder? The ones that captured me before?" Sylar chuckles deeply, shaking his head once, and continues to speak. "Do you know what happened? The last time I was captured, I killed one of my captors. Hang up the phone, and it will happen again." Sylar looks at Mara, a sadistic look in his eye, and he slowly smiles with his next words. "Tell me, doctor… have you ever heard the sound of someone's face being repeatedly beaten into the bars of a cell? If you don't tell me what I want to know.. you will. And Mara will be the one I use to show you."

Mohinder hears Mara begging. Perhaps his continuing to talk to Sylar is only making matters worse. Maybe Sylar's only getting his jollies. Damn.. damn.. Hang up and risk Sylar killing her, continue talking and having to hear it? He swallows the bile rising in his throat. Bracing himself for what may come.. he hangs up the phone. Grabbing up his keys, he runs from the lab and down to his car. Along the way down, he dials the station's number. "Pick up, pick up.. Hello, yes. My name is Mohinder Suresh, one of your prisoners called me from Detective Damaris's cellphone. He's holding her .. no I'm not makin.. don't put me on hold! Damn!"

Even though she's shaking like a leaf, fearing for her life, Mara manages a grin. "So he can follow a direction now and again." Her jaw quivers as she tries to form the next sentence. "Let go of my arm. Please… I'll talk."

Sylar waits patiently for Mohinder to answer, and he's rather surprised when the doctor hangs up. He stares at the phone for a brief moment, before slowly looking at Mara, his brow creasing in anger. "There will be no more talking," he says, before giving Mara some leeway in her arm— only to yank it back, aiming to smash her face right into the bars. He's already pressing send again on the phone, planning to have Mohinder pick up during Mara's screams. Payback is so sweet. Moreso when you're a psychopathic killer.

Somehow, Mara never actually believed he'd do it. Why, she can't imagine. She really can't imagine now that she's seeing stars and she's almost certain he's broken her nose. "I can give you Nakamura!" she shouts in a desperate attempt to make Sylar stop. "He's not dead!"

Mohinder struggles to get into his cab, because he's got his cellphone to his ear and he's in a hurry. Once he's inside he starts the car and pulls off to head to the station. "I'm /still/ holding, yes, thank you, no this is not a prank I assure you. He /will kill her/. Go to where he's being held. I'm on my way to the station!"

When Mara's face hits the bars, Sylar's already letting her have the same leeway as before— only to bring her right back to the bars as hard as he can. He goes to do it again, but suddenly stops when she mentions Nakamura, and the fact he isn't dead. He stares at her for a moment, then darts his head forward, pulling her closer to him at the same time, so that he's practically in her face. "What do you mean he's not dead?! I killed him! I watched him die!"

The woman's head droops as blood drips from her nose and mouth. "He's alive. I swear to God, he's alive. Please." Her voice drops to a hoarse whisper. "Please. Let me go."

Sylar stares intently at Mara, trying to determine if she's lying; after all, she seems rather sincere. Of course, that could be because she's in a bad situation. He cancels the call on the cell phone, but immediately presses resend. The doctor better answer soon, or help might arrive too late. "I don't care about Nakamura," Sylar lies, letting Mara have a little bit of leeway, seemingly ready to let her go… but not quite yet, it seems. "I only want one thing," the killer says, pulling Mara back towards the bars to cause more pain. At the same time, he gives out one simple command: "Scream for me."

Mara groans and sobs when she's dragged back in, but she does not scream. As much as she would like to, she can't give him the satisfaction. She raises her head slowly, "Never. Again." She spits a mouthful of blood at Sylar's face.

"SCREAM!" Sylar yells, pushing Mara back further than before, ready to pull her in and end this now— but then she spits blood in his face, and it causes Sylar to pause. His head jerks back when it hits, and he closes his eyes.. but rather than be disgusted, he smiles. He opens his eyes slowly to look at Mara, and his tongue darts out to taste the blood on his lip. Her blood. "Mm," he murmurs in thought, tilting his head down and to the side. "Now, why would you do a thing like that?" He pulls her close, not as hard as before, but mainly so he can get right back in her face. "Tell me about Nakamura. Tell me now."

Mohinder isn't close to the station yet, he's been put back on hold. Seriously, what is with that? He hears the beep of an incoming call, it's Mara's phone again. Damn. To answer that or not.

As the doctor is having that mental war with himself, it seems the person on duty answering the phones decides to go check on the prisoner and the detective. The officer heads back to the holding area, and swears loudly at what he sees. "SHIT. DROP HER NOW!" The command is given along with the drawing of the standard issue sidearm. "Let her go, Gray!" The shouts from the officer draw attention of others nearby, and the room is stormed by officers with weapons drawn and aimed.

Mara braces her free arm against the bars, trying to keep herself from the impact… that never comes. Tears and blood mingle on her face as she stares through the bars at Sylar. She's unable to respond for several moments, her jarred brains just trying to make sense of words and the fact that she isn't dead yet. Rather than answer his question, she coughs what was supposed to be some sort of shaky chuckle. "I knew you'd like the taste of me." You had your chance, asshole. But then the doors burst open and help arrives. Disoriented, it takes Damaris a while to register exactly what's happening around her.

Mohinder decides to ignore Sylar's incoming call. He hangs up on the police and pushes his way through traffic to get to the station.

The cops have their weapons trained on Sylar, if the man does not let go, they just might open fire. "Gabriel Gray, release Detective Damaris and put your hands above your head. NOW." Safeties are heard clicking off and multiple barrels pulling back. They are ready to fire if they have to.

When the cops burst in, Sylar immediately moves to grab Mara and pull her around so he has a grip over her throat from behind. But when the safeties are heard, Sylar seems to think better of the situation, and releases Mara, pushing her forward towards the cops. He takes a step back, raising his hands to either side, and smiles slowly at the cops. "Sorry, officers. I didn't /mean/ to do it… but sometimes I just can't help myself."

Mara weakly tries to pry Sylar's hand away from her throat when he grips her initially. When he lets her go, and she goes stumbling toward her fellow officers, she goes tumbling toward the floor. She turns her head to glare at Sylar, "I want my goddamn cell phone back." She looks quite the opposite of the threatening demeanor she would have liked to have, being sprawled out on the floor and all. "Somebody get my phone back," she whimpers. "I have to call my doctor." Because geneticists totally count as doctors.

One of the cops breaks the line in order to reach for Mara and to drag her back. Once Mara's behind the lines so to speak, some of the safeties go back on. None of them look amused by the situation to say the least. Sylar's smile and excuse don't fly with any of the boys in blue. A pair of guns stay trained on their target as an officer cautiously moves forward. "Put the cellphone on the ground and push it in my direction," he orders.

Playing the cabbie game as far as driving in NYC goes, Mohinder finally makes it to the station. Aggressive driving, for the win. A parking space that will probably earn him a ticket is claimed and he races from the car and into the station.

Sylar takes a look at the cellphone in his hand, considers it for a moment, and then looks back to the officer. "I believe the detective asked for it," he explains, and then tosses it straight at Mara, aiming to hit her in the chest. He then backs up further, to where his bed is, and takes a seat on the edge. He tilts his head downward, so that he's looking up through his eyebrows, and stares at Mara, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me!" Mara screams as she's pulled back, but she hasn't the strength to fight the officer off. She knows deep down that she needs the help to get the hell out of the way, but it doesn't make it easier. Sylar's aim is true and the BlackBerry hits her square in the chest. The woman grunts and looks sour at first. But then a slow smile spreads over her nearly unrecognizable face. "There you are," she muses and lifts the phone in her hand, back of it toward the floor. Her eyes lock on Sylar as she brings the cell down quickly with a slap and a crunch. The entire time, she stares into Sylar's eyes through the blood and the lingering tears. One dead cockroach. You're next.

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