2007-04-08: Who's the Villain Now?


Sylar_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: The ultimate showdown.

Date It Happened: April 8, 2007

Who's the Villain Now?

Mara's Flat


Sylar watches Nathan and Mara move away with a cold fury in his eyes. He would go after them, but he has to deal with this nuisance first. This isn't the first time he's gotten in the way. If all goes according to plan… it will be the last. Unaware that Peter is able to see him until the last moment, Sylar still manages to dodge the lamp, taking a step back and watching Peter, a smile creeping across his face. "Here we are again," the killer says, shrugging slightly and holding his hands out to the side. "Destiny, maybe?"

If nothing else, Peter wouldn't mind being a nuisance to Sylar if it means someone he promised to protect gets away. When the lamp misses, he doesn't let go of it, but pulls it back close to him. Right now, he needs all the weapons he can get. And this might well be the only thing he can use against the invisible serial killer right now. As he's barely able to use one power by itself, using two might well be beyond him. It certainly is right now. Despite any fear he might want to feel, just knowing that they're leaving gives him strength. Inclining his head towards the other man, he responds thickly, "Guess so."

"You guess so," Sylar echoes, his demeanor become less aloof, and much more serious. "Regardless of whether it's destiny or not, why you choose to protect the detective… oh well, no matter. I'll find her eventually. She won't be able to run forever. None of them will." With that said, Sylar raises a hand slightly to the side, but doesn't do anything else. Not yet. "I think I'll start with you. You've become too much of a nuisance to let live. It won't be a total waste of time, however, considering I'll take your power for my own." The invisibility drops, even if Peter wouldn't quite know that fact. A flick of the wrist, a movement of the hand, and Peter will suddenly find the lamp he's holding moving back on him, an attempt from Sylar to smash the lamp into Peter's own face.

For some reason, Peter'd assumed that the other man might have the same weaknesses as him. Then again, just as the other man failed to notice the invisibility going up, he fails to notice the invisibility of the other man going down. The lamp slams back into the former hospice nurse's face, smashing his nose and knocking him back a few steps before he manages to pull it back and look at the man. Blood runs down his face from his broken nose, even as it works to heal itself. The damage could have been much worse, but that's bad enough. As soon as the hit lands, Sylar would hear the satisfying crunch, and moments later he dissolves back into sight. "Can't kill any of them… if I take you down first," he says, sounding more confident in his voice than his heartbeat would show, assuming the other man listens. Using the same ability the man just attacked him with, he releases the lamp and sends it flying, knowing full well this could just become a standstill.

Sylar chuckles when he hears the crunch of lamp against face, a smile still on his face even after Peter has managed to pull the lamp back. When the hero comes back into visibility, Sylar doesn't make any notice of it. He doesn't need to. This isn't about who can see who, or who can do what.. this is about who is going to live. And to Sylar? It most certainly isn't going to be Peter. "You? Take me down first?" Sylar chuckles again, shaking his head… which was a mistake. He's not ready for when the lamp comes flying, so when it does, it bounces off the killer's face, sending him back a few steps, blood trailing slowly out of his own nose, much like Peter's. "You'll pay for that one," Sylar says, a furious look coming over him as he throws his hand to the left, the couch from before rising off of the floor and flying at Peter.

The small advantage that Peter might have comes in the form of the coveted cheerleader's powers. While his broken nose starts to heal, the other man tosses a couch at him, the same couch that hit his brother while he tried to fly down the hallway in an attempt to do a flying tackle. It'd been a good idea, intercepted though it may have been. Rather than attempt to change the direction of the couch with the same ability, he does the illogical thing, and stands his ground, thinking of the same ability he used to splinter the door. When the couch hits him, he attempts to hit back. Doesn't deflect the blow like he might have hoped, but does absorb some of the impact, slamming the couch into the hallway wall, punching a hole in the sheetrock. Still, he gets knocked back again, this time knocked off his feet towards the ground, a position he knows he should not be in. So he tries to scramble back to his feet quickly, hoping the lodged couch delays the man a moment.

With the couch flying towards Peter and distracting him, Sylar begins to move towards the hallway with the intent to chase Mara and Nathan. He might be able to catch them before they can get away. They'll be much easier to deal with than Peter.

His progress is impeded, however, by the couch slamming into the hallway wall. Sylar frowns, not happy about this, and turns back to Peter, taking a few menacing steps forward as his right hand begins to freeze over, turning an icy blue color. "I've had enough of this," he says, advancing on Peter to the point where he's able to stick his right hand out in an attempt to grab Peter by the throat, and freeze his blood right in the veins themselves.

There's only so much someone can do at once, right? Right. Peter sees the ice flare up on the man's hand, and continues to scramble to his feet as he advances, surprised at the sight of this ability. Slipping a bit as he works to stand up, when the man gets to him, all he can do to get away is raise his left hand to intercept the freezing hand. The skin and the blood vessels in his arm freeze almost instantly, causing a very strange kind of numb pain like nothing he's ever felt before. He doesn't even try not to scream. That doesn't mean he stops, though. Using the pain to think of another person who's caused him pain, he presses the hand not being frozen solid against the man's chest and tries to call up a jolt of electricity, hoping to knock him away.

Sylar grips Peter's hand hard, the subfreezing ice covering his hand and freezing it down to the blood. When the jolt of electricity comes from Peter, Sylar is indeed knocked back a few steps, a hand coming up to his chest where Peter struck him. The ice from his own hand fades away, shrinking up into the sleeve of his jacket until there's no more to be seen. He drops his hand by his side again, making a fist, which he opens quickly— when he does, there's a small burst of power, courtesy of induced radioactivity. Now that he's warmed up the first burst, Sylar brings his hand up, right near Peter's stomach, and makes the same motion: closed fist, snapping it open quickly with a large burst of power aimed directly into Peter's gut. It's not so much to burn him, as more of an attempt to send him flying backwards a ways.

The pain in Peter's hand almost goes away when the bolt of electricity throws the other man back. Instead, it's replaced by something so… strange… that he couldn't describe it to someone if he tried. A lot of the skin has hardened, and he can't feel his fingers to even attempt to move them. With his left hand completely useless, fingers stuck in a statuesque pose, he works his way fully to his feet, trying to stand up, his right hand going to his left arm as of to make sure it's still all there. It almost feels like it's not. The pain continues to twist his face as the man approaches again, this time sending a burst of radioactive energy towards him. Flying backwards and against the wall, the empathic nurse stays on his feet by sheer luck more than anything. The cellphone in his coat pocket? Fried. The fabric around where the hand impacted? Scorched.

And he can't move his hand.

He's going to lose.

As he realizes this, he does the only thing he can think of. He raises his hand and flings a bolt of lightning, stronger than what he'd shoved against the man's chest. While aimed at him, it has a secondary objective… to hit the bookcase behind him, should he dodge, with intent of setting fire to the place.

Immediately after Peter goes flying away from him, Sylar moves forward and closes the distance, opening his right palm wide. Ice begins to gather there, clinging to his palm as it spreads around his whole hand, just like before. "You're wasting my time, Peter," the killer says, raising his hand slightly and out to the side, as if he was preparing to punch Peter. Whatever he was planning to do won't see fruition, however, when Peter flings lightning at him. Sylar quickly dodges to the left, but he isn't fast enough to move the entire way out. The majority bolt hits him in the shoulder, sending Sylar back and into the wall, which he hits hard and falls to the floor. The rest of the bolt goes stray and still hits the bookcase, exploding the wood into a giant flame which quickly catches on all the newspaper, spreading the fire around quickly. Sylar scrambles to one knee, looking up at Peter, fury written all over his face.

Possibly too much to hope that this building has a really awesome fire alarm that will bring the firetrucks quickly to the loft apartment. Actually, yeah, it likely is. But at least Peter has a chance to begin moving away from the wall, where he'd be cornered, with his capable hand pointed at the other man, as if threatening another bolt. It becomes pretty clear /where/ he's headed, though… he's trying to back towards the door he busted down not too long ago. Seems like hours in a way, though he knows it'd been minutes. The strain shows on his face, causing him to look pale in the light from the fire. "That's the point," he says in response, inclining his head again. "Even if I can't stop you… I'll slow you down. As long as I can." He won't win. He could very well die. That's something he's accepted. Longer he lasts, the longer they have.

Sylar slowly stands, the fire spreading quicker throughout the apartment now as the fire spreads to rug, the television beginning to crack and bubble as the flames lick the outside of it. Fire alarms begin to go off, the loud squeal echoing throughout the apartment, piercing through the roar of the blaze. The fire trucks won't come, but there's no reason to stay here. "You're only delaying the inevitable," Sylar says loudly, stepping forward and rushing his open palm towards Peter, sending a telekinetic push with the intent of throwing him through the open door and out onto the landing. "Why not give up now? I promise I'll make it quick. After all, I have the detective to catch up to."

That's exactly why he's not going to give up. Peter can do little of nothing to fight against the telekinetic shove that pushes him out the door he'd been heading towards. That's fine by him. Got him there faster. The pain in his lower back as he impacts the railing doesn't come close to the pain that shot up his hand until it just stopped hurting throughout much of his fingers and palm. The wrist and arm still hurt, making this small additional pain very little. Bracing against the rail behind him, he faces the serial killer inside the burning building and says firmly, "Not giving up." It's stubborn, almost childish, but also breathy and full of pain. He's not going to make it through this if he doesn't give up in one form. He could do that now. But he /doesn't./ "Which one of us— is the villain now— Gabriel?"

Sylar is still moving forward even as he pushes Peter, the fire raging behind him. It almost threatens to engulf him, but he steps outside of the apartment before the flames can get to him. He tilts his chin down at Peter, glaring at him with menacing eyes as he raises his right hand again. "It's Sylar," the killer says to Peter, clenching a fist in the air. If all works out, Peter's hand will break off, the telekinetic force of Sylar's grip crushing his wrist. "I'm the villain," he continues, smirking at the other man. "There's no doubt about that."

Dozens of films show limbs frostbitten beyond recognition get broken off in a shattering of skin, blood and bone… this would look close to the same, really. Peter lets out another yell, pushing back against the railing while trying to avoid flailing in the sheer horror of seeing his own hand shatter off. The hand itself falls mostly intact, down the stairs, and there's very little /blood loss/ for him… the frost still layers that part of his wrist, cutting off a lot of the blood flow. Not all of it, but most of it. The pain, though… that's back. And if he looked pale already, he's looking as if he might be sick now. Practically falling down the stairs towards the street, he does the only thing he really can do right now… he's trying to get away. Ungracefully. It's almost all he can do to keep moving. And he might have had a retort, but the whole hand breaking off thing? Yeah, that killed his retort.

Sylar outright grins when Peter's hand breaks off at the wrist, watching it bounce down the stairs and onto the street, only looking back to Peter when the hand finally comes to a rest. "Ouch," Sylar says, his smile turning into a smirk, and when Peter begins to move down the stairs, Sylar follows. "You can run as long as you want, Peter, but I will catch you," Sylar calls out, descending the stairs slowly and raising a hand towards the street. For now, he doesn't seem to do anything other than follow Peter.

As Peter lands at the bottom of the stairs, he actually manages to get back up onto his feet. Pressing his frozen stump of a wrist up against his coat, he backs away towards the street, moving from sheer will and nothing else. That would be the only thing keeping him from passing out. The only thing keeping him from falling over and accepting the inevitable. Run as long as he wants. This man will find him. It helps he knows he bought them enough time. Even as the loft apartment burns in his sight, he knows that she won't die here. That's enough… That has to be enough. Taking shaky steps back towards the street, not looking where he's going, he's trying to focus on one infuriating and precious emotion, his brother. Just as his flying saved him before, he's counting on it to save him now… He just hopes the take off is fast enough. Especially since he knows the landing is going to suck.

Sylar steps off the last step, his foot coming to a rest on the street below, the other following it. He watches as Peter backs away, the smirk still on his face, and his palm pointed towards the street twitches slightly. A car slides sideways, the tiniest bit, the tires squeaking slightly on the pavement. It then moves a bit more, and Sylar is just about ready to toss it at the other man when Peter suddenly takes to the sky, just fast enough that Sylar doesn't have time to get the car nearly close enough to hit him. Peter's escaped.. for now.

Sylar releases the car, turning back towards the burning building and looking up at the apartment, a passive expression on his face. The fire has really caught now, the apartment blazing hot as the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance can be heard. He glances down at Peter's hand, pointing his fingers at it and causing it to slide slowly along the ground, almost as if he was pondering it. He stops soon enough, however, and disappears into nothing, the killer invisibly walking away. He has somebody to look for.

To Be Continued...

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