2007-04-01: Mental Health Day


Allan_icon.gif Sylar_icon.gif

Summary: A very unfortunate series of events. Now you see him, now you don't.

Mental Health Day

Kirby Plaza

Night. 2 A.M. Kirby Plaza. The majority of the Company faculty has gone home; those that stayed behind are working late into the night, tucked away deep into their offices. This creates an ideal situation for a serial killer to break in, and breaking in is easy. Locks on the door? Simple. A small bit of telekinesis to turn the deadbolts from the other side, and the door opens. Anyone that comes his way? Fortunately no one has yet, but it's not like it matters. They'll be dealt with just as easily.

Sylar is currently in a random office on the seventh floor of the building, rifling through paper documents. The only light coming from the room is a small desk-lamp turned low, giving off just enough light for the killer to read by. He can't find what he wants, it seems, because after a few moments he tosses the handful of papers he has to the floor, and opens another door, keeping his ears open for the sound of anyone approaching.

It is a combination of a few really rather unfortunate events that brings Allan Murphy, Primatech security guard to the seventh floor about five minutes later. Firstly, the Hartsdale office had closed down unexpectedly a while back, causing his transfer here, secondly, Dave, bastard Dave, had pulled one of his mental health days, resulting in Allan being called in to work on his night off and thirdly, he had slept past his one o'clock walkaround, having dozed off at the desk due to last night's gig.

That considered, Allan proceeds to give each room on the floor a very cursory look over, shining his flashlight into the rooms and grumbling to himself, which can no doubt be heard as he approaches Sylar's hallway, "Freakin' Dave, should shiv him in the shower.."

Rifling through the contents of the second drawer, Sylar slams it shut when he still doesn't find what he needs. He pauses for a moment, looking down at the desk, pondering his next move. That's when he hears someone coming, and his head snaps up to the door. He closes the open drawers quickly, and reaches over to extinguish the lamp. He then silently moves through the room towards the door, opening it /just/ barely and peeking out through the crack, trying to spot whoever it is that's coming.

"Mental health da-" Allan's bitching is cut dead as he hears the drawer slamming shut from the nearby office, He plucks his radio from his belt and calls in, "Security desk, Jim, wake up, possible intrusion, seventh floor." Then, shining the flashlight at the door, he calls, "I-If anyones in there, you need to come out with your hands above your head, this is a restricted area!"

It should, perhaps, be noted, that all that remains visible of the man is the beam of light from the flashlight, some primitive reflex having kicked in as the hairs on the back of Allan neck started to rise.

Watching the man through the door, Sylar listens as the guard calls for backup. This means time is short. He waits a few moments, still watching, and only when he realizes that the man /just turned invisible/ does he come out. He opens the door, sticking both hands out, and then slowly walks out of the room, raising his hands above his head as he does. "Officer," Sylar says, using the bobbing flashlight to determine where the man is. "Invisibility. That's an interesting trick."

The floating flashlight beam doesn't say anything, since its comprised of photons, but the "officer" fades back in, frowning and becoming visible, "This is a restricted area, Sir," Allan repeats, having at some point in the short period of invisibility swapped his radio for a .38 pistol, the radio back at his belt, "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come down to our holding area until police arrive, unless you've got ID."

The security guard does not look impressed, but theres not been any response from the front desk, as far as the radio sits silent.

Sylar tucks his chin back, so that he's watching the security guard through his eyebrows, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "ID? Don't have any. So I'm afraid we /will/ have to go to a holding area. Unfortunately for you, I can't let that happen." Sylar then smiles wider, and a lot happens in a short amount of time. On his right hand, his index and middle fingers suddenly bend downwards— Allan would feel a distinct force knocking the gun straight out of his hands and to the ground. With the gun disposed of, Sylar then lowers both of his hands, his right one extending. A simple wave to the right— Allan goes flying, smashing into the nearby wall as Sylar takes a few steps forward, moving closer to the guard. "I can't let you cause any trouble for me," he says, still moving towards Allan, so that he's just a few feet away. "I have a job to do. You're going to help me do it, too. Of course, you won't be around… but your ability will, and it's such a nice trick. I can use it when I'm with the detective— after all, the clock is ticking for her, so to speak."

Allan's body flies backwards against the wall, body flickering in and out of sight, parts of his flesh disappearing and re-appearing desperately, in too much of a panic at the unexpected assault to manage a complete fade. As he impacts the wall, half of his head has decided to make itself see-through, as far as the bone.

Dazed, the security guard manages a "Guh?" even as his jaw pulls the same trick, repulsive, but little the killer hasn't seen before and closer, "Ack." he concludes.

"A shame," Sylar says as he moves in front of Allan, standing at the man's feet, watching the grotesque transformations taking place in front of him. "You've been given an ability like this, and you can't even use it properly…" Sylar sighs, the tiniest bit, but it's more in exasperation than true disappointment in the man. He then shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face as he raises a hand in front of him. He makes a fist, leaving his index finger pointed straight at the man's skull. "This will be over soon," he says, taking a step closer. "Try not to scream." With that, the murder begins, a deep cut slicing horizontally against Allan's forehead as the blood begins to spill.

Sadly, Allan does not take his new friend's advice, and screams himself raw.. and then can scream no more.

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