Sylar
total nut!
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Post by Sylar on Feb 20, 2009 20:56:08 GMT
"My name?" Sylar asked with a smile. "You're brave." He smiled.
"So let me get this straight," He walked toward the man, not so close enough to encourage the man to run, but close enough to be appropriately looming.
The Principle and he circled each other like dancing snakes, until his prey was once more beside his corner desk illuminated by a curtain of warm sunshine streaming through the open window. Sylar had his back to the door blocking any chance of exit.
"You think you know who I am? You think you know what I am?" His hand was shaking with adrenaline, the backs of his eyeballs tickling with the excitement of a hunt. "You can't know anything, you might sense things, but can't understand them, but it's all just whispers in the wind. You can't KNOW what I am. But I can show you. And believe me I'm just itching to show you." He smiled and gave the squeaking toy football mascot a healthy squeeze. "And when you KNOW what I am, you'll give me all the answers I need."
He closed shut the door to the office, the glass window neatly etched with the Principle's name rattled in its casing.
Outside in the quad a world of sounds filled the air; arguments and hormonal uprisings, the cool and the uncool, the in and the out. Big issues; little people; loud voices. It was a cacophony of teenage importance. All vastly more interesting and audible than the screams that emanated through the office window above and all hugely more noticeable than the blood which splattered across the same window, seeped along the floor and crept under the door.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Feb 21, 2009 13:24:54 GMT
The Doctor had always prided herself on her alert nature and attention to detail. She was an animal of superior senses and intelligence, which allowed her to multi task far better than any human female; even in her male form.
So there she was, the Doctor, pressed between the doe eyed stare of Dylan, and the pitiful sobbing Marv, talking at a million miles per hour about the wonders of her Tardis, whilst imagining her self both killing and shagging Sylar simultaneously.
Considering all this minor information, one might think that the Doctor would not have heard the screaming that came from across the crowded play ground, around the corner, through a set of double doors and down the corridor. In fact, one would be forgiven for wondering if the Doctor's reactions would in fact have been slowed by the very nature of the situation. One would be wrong. She took off like a hare, with all the grace of a dancer and agility of someone really agile.
Bursting though the door, left ajar, the Doctor almost wretched at the sight of the blood, fingers, ears and other removable organs that were strewn across the room. There was no doubt this place had been the location of a long, arduous struggle, before the Principle had found his fate. Death by suffocation, it seemed, as she both slammed the door in the faces of the two lads with her foot, and pried the small fluffy mascot from the throat of this poor human.
She had rarely seen brutality like this in her life, and it angered her to bare witness to such an awful scene. She would catch whoever was responsible. They would feel her wrath. But she could not help that awful niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach. One that had been there almost constantly for months now, but one that was frequently quelled by sheer force of will.
There was only one place she had seen violence like this: The Compound. She hoped that she had simply carried a stow away from the Prison Planet she had recently visited; one that could be stopped and returned to their rightful place. But the sensation of doubt was born from something worse than that. Much worse.
Sylar?
This was not his usual modus operandi, and certainly below the usual methods of killing. But he had been behaving strangely of late.
A heavy sigh resonated from her lips before the Doctor could prevent the evidence of her weary body and mind. She would have to find him. Even if it was simply to clear his name.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Feb 22, 2009 13:05:48 GMT
It was all very well following her gut instinct and going after Sylar. She had learned a long time ago never to ignore her gut. But when it came down to the situation at hand, the Doctor had no firm evidence that Sylar was in fact the culprit. She had the hope that he was not. Though she could probably use the help of a friend right now, if the killer was in fact not Sylar, she would be wasting an awful lot of time. Time his next victim, would certainly not be lucky enough to have.
So she got down to the usual business of hunting for clues. Out came the Sonic Screwdriver. Out came a magnifying glass. Down on her knees the Doctor got. It would not be difficult to find conclusive evidence, after all, this particular crime had been committed by someone who had not bothered to hide his or her tracks. Almost certainly a crime of passion.
Or the killer had access to a getaway vehicle that would not only allow them to escape the country, but also the planet.
After closely studying the craft scissors and staple gun, which seemed to be the torture tools of choice, it became blatantly obvious beyond any doubt that Sylar was guilty. Very guilty.
"Dammit." the Doctor whispered under her breath as she stormed out of the room and back to the awaiting children, who were eyeing her up curiously.
"What were you doing?" Dylan asked, voicing both boys desire for knowledge.
"Searching for clues."
"Why didn't you just check the security feed?"
It was then that the Doctor noticed the carefully concealed cameras that lay behind the glass panels of the schools ceiling and the very expensive looking projectors lining the walls. This was no local comprehensive after all. Only the very rich and the very special came here.
By some cosmic coincidence, the projectors spurred to life, and the face of a young man, who worried at his lower lip and nervously rubbed the back of his neck appeared for all to see.
"Calling all Heroics Students. Assignment Amendment. Special credit will be given to the one who catches Principle Farquhar's killer."
The Doctor's blood ran cold, as an HD image of Sylar's blood smeared face appeared before her in the corridor. And not just this corridor. Every corridor. Every class room. The school burst to life with young men and women wearing spandex and capes rushed out through doors and dissipated the haunting image.
She had to find him first.
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Post by Dylan & Marv on Feb 24, 2009 13:44:30 GMT
"Coooooooooooooooooooool" Dylan said and tried to peer into the bloody mess of an office. "We haven't had a Principle killed in ages. Last one was when I was in juniors."
The corridors were flooded with students, some flew out of windows some tore through the air in a blur, all hurried directionless.
"Stupid bloody idiots." Dylan said, "I swear one day..." His voice drifted off and he looked at his shorter friend Marv with affection and adjusted his backpack from one shoulder to the next as the police arrived (just as fast as the students left) to investigate the scene of crime for themselves. The Doctor and the boys stepped out of their way graciously.
"They won't care." Dylan said, "They don't care. Six months is the average lifespan of a Principle at a school with a YVR program." The pretty Doctor looked at him curiously, "Young Villain Rehab. One ASBO and you're in." Dylan smiled, "I got two in my first year for starting a fire in the quad, wasn't even on purpose. But I swear you learn more than they train out of you. You stay in those classes till you graduate and the chance you want to take over the world goes up 120%. I swear the first year YVR kids are forty times smarter than the full lot of the Heroes Seniors. If they REALLY wanted to catch this guy, they'd send the YVRs after them."
The police exited the office and looked at the crowd which had appeared about them, "You." They pointed at the Doctor, "You're an accomplice." The lug in front of them pointed a finger at the same screens flashing Sylar's sinister smile around about them, and then following it with surveillance taken from the quad of the same man kissing the Doctor softly on the cheek.
The Doctor blushed.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Feb 25, 2009 18:33:12 GMT
The Doctor had an age old tradition when it came down to a crisis such as this, as well as a reputation to uphold. She didn't let herself down. Grabbing tiny digits of the boys in either hands, the Doctor gave her instructions loadly and clearly. Born leader, that was her.
"RUN."
Run they did. Away. Because maybe they weren't accomplices, and maybe they weren't guilty of anything, but right now they had no way to prove their innocence.
The Doctor started to compile a list of objectives in her mind as she moved past the blur of backdrop into the space before her.
1. Find Sylar. 2. Find out what the hell he's doing. 3. Find out what the hell is going on. Maybe that should come first.
Very soon they were tired, with legs like lead and lungs like broken glass. They seemed to be in the clear, but no one could say for how long. Sadly they had ran in the opposite direction to the Tardis, and were now stood in the dark cobwebbing gloom of what looked like a PE equipment shed.
The Doctor pulled out a big box of balls and sat down with a heavy sigh. Her next set of instructions were as clear and concise as her first. I have a knack for this.
"Explain."
The boys looked at each other with wide eyes and blank faces, but neither said a word.
Maybe not then.
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Sylar
total nut!
Posts: 1,375
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Post by Sylar on Feb 27, 2009 15:03:16 GMT
Sylar sped up the 101 with the top down in the recently deceased Farqhuar's mid-life crisis sports car. A stunning buffed black Chrysler with vingatge trimmings, a chic magnet if you had the looks and a defiance against a widow's-peak for the over fifties. He hadn't stopped to wash his hands, but liked the sticky dried glue sensation of blood on his hands as they held tightly to the cream leather-bound wheel.
The sea passed him to the west as he wove in and out of the undulating Californian hillside and he slipped on his last victim's sunshades as the sun burned a hole in the hazy sky flanking the highway. He pulled over and hit the button to roll down the top.
Sylar knew exactly where he was going. The Principle had practically drawn him a map when he had been done with him.
But where was he going? Well first: San Fransisco. There he would find what he needed.
The car was fast, and the road barely populated, it seemed abilities were as commonplace as bad skin in teenagers. THe sky was polluted by flitting flying nobodies. He was certain two or three people had run past him when he was at top speed on the way out of Venice, but hardly cared. As much as being unable to use his abilities made him feel useless there was something about being one of the few men able to sit back and enjoy the sunshine in a beautiful car that made him feel...special.
He took the keys out of the ignition and thought about the Doctor, stepping out onto the warm taramac to stretch his legs. She would no doubt found out what he had done, was he bothered? No very much as it turned out. Without his abilities he was hardly worthy of her company anyway, and would perhaps be considered either useless or expendable, there would be no reason for him to live after all the wonderfully terrible things he had done. He wondered what punishments she might dish out to her enemies...he imagined they would be bitter sweet. It almost made him smile with pride.
A woman with white blonde hair suddenly stopped in front of him, a runner no doubt on her way somewhere so fast she left steam in her wake. He nodded at her in acknowledgement.
"You injured?" she said indicating his bloody hands and the vee of splattered red about his collar where Farqhaur had rudely ruined his nice shirt (he had thrown the drenched suit jacket in the back seat as he had jumped into the driving seat).
Sylar shrugged and smiled. He was feeling a bit peckish, even if there was no use to taking her ability. "Just taking in the view."
"View?" She looked around her, clearly she spent too much time running, didn't appreciate the world. Sylar pointed at the beach vista before them with a bloody hand, the gulls dipped in the afternoon haze for fish. Kids on the beach sunbathed.
The woman seemed unfussed, "Yeah, but you're -."
"Sylar." He said.
"I was gonna say injured, you should get to a hospital and...wait what did you say? Is that your name?"
Sylar nodded.
"There was a guy I met in New York once." She said sort of with a shrug, "A cop. Kind of a doofus. He got shot by..." Her face paled.
Sylar smiled. He wondered if his car was fast enough to catch her if she ran.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 5, 2009 18:50:03 GMT
"What's going on here? What is this place? Just... What?"
The two boys frowned simultaneously. The not quite fully formed expressions on their faces matched to perfection as they moved from panic, fear confusion and then thankfully, realisation.
"This school?" Dylan asked, hesitantly, obviously wondering where this batty lady had been for the last decade, regardless of her gorgeous long legs.
"This is an Academy of Excellence." He paused.
She waited.
"For the especially special."
Another pause.
Both boys looked to each other, before pulling up make shift chairs and sitting down.
"Right." Dylan said with a tone that indicated he had seen this on the cop shows. "I'll start from the beginning."
And then came the explanation.
1. Some people in the world were special. Very special. 2. Academies were set up all over the globe to mold special people, and turn them into Extraordinary Citizens: Heroes. The education was free, the best in the world, but only available to those with powers. 3. Then a company created a serum that could turn the 'normal folk' into 'specials.' 4. Only the rich could afford it, and most parents paid through the nose to ensure their children had the best education available.
"Most the school is made up of Mongrels with super rich parents. They bully the Organics like Marv."
The Doctor gave a kindly look to Marv, who flushed crimson and turned his eyes to the floor.
"And what do you do?" The Doctor asked softly, somewhat gingerly, feeling nothing but pity for the lad.
"No one knows." Dylan replied, "Not even me, and I'm his bestest friend. I bet it's something cool though. Like Technopathy or something. The guys a freaking genius when it comes to maths."
The Doctor had no idea what that was, but smiled at Dylan, who was beginning to annoy somewhat, and turned her questions back to him. He did like to talk somewhat, and seemed the best option when it came to getting answers.
"And you?"
"Oh, I'm a Mongrel too, but I'm on the YVR tier so... I may have, accidentally, set fire to my house..."
The Doctor laughed, standing to crack her back and stretch her aching muscles.
"Never play with matches." She laughed.
"Or a pyro..."
"Quite." Still no idea. "And the million dollar question Dylan; where did Sylar go?"
Dylan shrugged, leaning back on his crate, toppling the basket ball hoop behind him with an all mighty crash. An eerie silence resonated, as the inhabitants of the shed held their breath, listening, waiting to be found.
"Pinehearst."
The voice was almost inaudible in the deafening quietness that filled their ears.
"Pinehearst." it was Marv, "You're friend was broken, Pinehearst can fix him."
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Sylar
total nut!
Posts: 1,375
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Post by Sylar on Mar 8, 2009 22:35:02 GMT
"It must be a common name." Sylar said with a shrug. "I'm as nice as pie." "You're covered in blood." The dreadlocked blonde pointed out. "Am I?" He smiled, "Well golly gosh. Must have cut myself while checking under the hood. Never could understand cars." He shrugged.
There was no point trying to take her power, he surmised, being unable to use his or any others at that current time. But then why should anyone benefit from them, even herself. She had been looking under his bonnet, like a good hero should when seeing a stranding fellow at the side of the road. Sylar sat behind the wheel.
"I can't see a problem." She called, "Give the engine a rev."
He put his foot down, the handbrake wasn't on. The car sped forward knocking the blonde off her feet and under the wheels.
She called out. Sylar slammed on the brakes. He leant over the drivers seat and looked at the mangled mess behind him. "Oh hells bells." He said, "Terribly sorry. You okay?"
"No I -" She yelped, "Damnit you broke my legs."
"Did I?" Sylar said, "Well, I'll have to aim better next time then. I was aiming for your head."
"What?!" She yelped.
Sylar put the car in reverse.
To say running down the super-speedy little minx was satisfying would be a lie. It wasn't. This annoyed Sylar. In fact it was quite desperately unsatisfying.
She lay in a mangled heap under his tyres, he stepped out of the car looked at her.
"It not enough." He said and eyed up the patrons of a small restaurant on the coast line. Grabbing his blood smeared black jacket from the back of the car he slipped it on and ran toward the secluded little spot.
Crashing through the door, "Help, help!" He said, "There's been a terrible accident."
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 8, 2009 23:20:13 GMT
Layla, 17, sexy and she knew it. She had the uncanny ability to break hearts; literally, and well as metaphorically. She could bring any man to his knees, with a simple touch of the skin. Electromagnetically Induced Cardiac Arrest, it was called. It was why she sheathed her lithe form from fingertip to toes in black velvet; and also why the teacher did not bat an eyelid when she walked into call 24 minutes late. She did this with every teacher, in every class, every day; no one had the guts to stand up for her.
She was of course, on the YVR tier, though she wasn't badly bought up, or even poor; but with a power like hers, it was difficult for any parent to set boundaries. Layla had never been disciplined. Layla had never heard the word "no."
7 minutes into class, and Layla was already bored. She hated reading about heroics. She was certainly more of a "doer," then a "sit-on-my-ass-and-do-nothing-er." What was the point in studying great men like Peter Petrelli, if one never left the classroom? The likes of her and her class mates (using the term loosely, for Layla had not a single friend) were not allowed public facing activities because of their criminal past. To her, it made the course a little pointless.
It was for this reason, that she walked out of the class 3 minutes before the bell. This was the reason why she was already in the corridor when the alarms went off. It was the overwhelming need to prove herself that forced her out of that door and into the street; why she nicked a hover bike without a second thought.
Layla was going to find Sylar, and kill him.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 10, 2009 16:40:44 GMT
The irony that Marv knew where Sylar was, was not lost on the Doctor. This quiet insignificant boy, seemingly a little dull and in desperate need of a hair cut, had in fact worked out what the Doctor could not. And how? It seemed he had parts of the puzzle that she did not. The answer to the question, she was dying to know, but deep down knew she would not receive what was owed to her. Perhaps the time was not yet right.
Suggestions:
1. Telepathy - The boy had in fact read Sylars mind and knew where he was going. 2. Other worldly logic - Dylan had said he was good at maths. 3. Some kind of homing ability. 4. Precognition
The list was quickly growing and was soon becoming endless. The mind boggled, yet she did not waste valuable moments satisfying her own curiosity, like she may have done in previous incarnations. Instead she worried only for Sylar. This she considered another logical failure on her part. The man was both very capable of surviving alone, and a villain. Perhaps she was loosing her mind in her old age?
"So Pinehearst then?"
Wisest is she, who knows what she does not know.
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Sylar
total nut!
Posts: 1,375
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Post by Sylar on Mar 12, 2009 9:19:30 GMT
A great many fat and shiny faces looked up at him from their dinners. The patrons of the small diner ranged from the vastly obese tourists taking in the California sights from under their baseball caps to the outlandishly skinny locals. There was absolutely no middle ground. And no one batted an eyelash.
"Didn't you hear me?" Sylar said, parked on his backfoot and waiting for one of them to blink in horror at his blood spattered shirt. "There has been a terrible accident."
No one moved. A large jerk in a T-shirt reading "I am the Walrus, coo-coo-" (The 'katcho' lost in the folds of his flesh) returned to his steak and slurped noisily at his wine. A slender blonde who might have looked like a beautiful woman, before she had been so pricked and preened and sucked to resemble a vacuum-packed barbie doll on crack, sniffed loudly through her nose and moved a pea around her vast plate absently. The waiting staff returned to their rounds.
Sylar smiled. This is what a world full of Heroes is like, he thought. "How terrible." He said and turned the lock on the door.
There was never an excuse for apathy. It would probably require at least four of them to die horribly before half of the patrons stopped perusing the desert menu and corresponding calorie cards. Murder, in this instance (he resolved), was more of Public Service.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 15, 2009 21:43:58 GMT
Meanwhile, whilst child and Time Lord discussed the psyche of a sociopath, another sociopath was securing herself transport.
Layla, the first out of class, had quickly knocked out one teenage hover car owner (minus ten points) and stolen his vehicle (-20 points). By her reckoning, her current total was -thirty five, for she had also sworn loudly at an elderly passer by as she had left the parking wrack. This was unfortunate; to pass a Heroes Level One Practical Assignment, one had to do it with a clear slate. However, Layla mused as she drove at 50kmph over the speed limit (minus 10 points) down the highway, catching a criminal such as Sylar and bringing him to justice should clear any points dropped along the way.
With a grin that could melt reinforced steel, and no one in the world there to stop her, Layla pushed the pedal to the metal. She was only 20 minutes behind Sylar. Of course neither of them knew this.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 15, 2009 21:57:41 GMT
Grasping at both boys hands, the Doctor had come to the conclusion that it was time to move. Reaction, was better than no action at all, though of course an action plan would have been good about now. Sadly this was not something the Doctor had at her disposal, so she settled for creeping out of the shed, across the basket ball courts, over the fence, and into the grounds behind.
Running was of course the next step, or the next multiple steps, as was hiding, jumping hedges and getting to town. The Doctor had a fair idea of where this mysterious Pinehearst was (San Fransisco) and that their current location was Los Angeles.
So the options? 1. Public Transport - Possibly the most likely to get them there is one piece, but would cost both money and time waiting for tickets. Not to mention the possibility that Sylar had in fact stopped along the way, or change course somewhere.
2. Obtain vehicle - Stealing was wrong. That is, if you got caught.
3. Walk - It's a long way to San Fransisco.
4. Break back into the school, rescue the Tardis and fly.
The Doctor would have gone with option four had she not had two children as her companions. Eager as she was to keep them safe from harm, she needed them to get her where she needed to go. Taking them back into the school would jeopardise both their academic careers, and possibly land them in jail. No, better to keep them out of sight, and hope the whole thing blew over once she left.
So really that only left her with one option.
"Anyone know how to hot wire a car?"
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Sylar
total nut!
Posts: 1,375
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Post by Sylar on Mar 18, 2009 15:54:40 GMT
There was something he was meant to be doing, he was sure of it, something very important. But right at that moment the room before him was more like Willy Wonka's Candy Garden ready for eating, rather than a sunny diner. He forgot whatever it was he had to do strode over to the counter and ding'ed the bell.
His mind was running with all the possibilities and variety of 'old school' murder techniques as the little waitress came up to the bar and asked him sweetly what he would like.
Her name tag read 'Doreen'.
"How can I help?" She said. Again he laughed out of turn at her disregard for his appearance.
"Someone's been hurt." He said.
"You want a band aid?" She asked with vacant cheer.
"I think perhaps someone should call the police." He suggested.
"No point." Shrugged Doreen. "Someone will be along in a minute I'm sure. They're ever so quick."
"Who are?"
"Oh you know, them." She shrugged, "We have a special today on french onion soup, you get a free juice glass."
"But they didn't come." Sylar said with dissapointment, there was something pleasant about killing people with powers when he had none himself.
Doreen shrugged. "It's got mickey on it." She said.
"What has?"
"The juice gl -" She flustered around the counter and picked up a Disneyfied glass from underneath. Standing to show it him she stopped, gripping the cup absently, "oh look. see..." She said and pointed behind him at someone rattling the locked door. "Told you."
Sylar turned. There was a slender leather clad wannabee at the door.
"Miss Velvet. Are you serious?" Sylar smiled. "God don't tell me they wear capes too these days?" Only seconds before the velvet-wonder gained entrance Sylar grabbed the glass, smashed it on the counter, ran behind and held the sharp edge of the glass to Doreen's throat. She hardly seemed to notice.
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HN
crazy axe murderer
She-Doctor
Posts: 3,032
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Post by HN on Mar 18, 2009 18:27:34 GMT
BANG
Thwarted by the door.
BANG BANG
Yes, it was most certainly locked. Layla's grand entrance was ruined.
She had been driving along, enjoying the sunshine, listening to classic rock band; Busted, and generally minding her own business, when she had come across a bloodied mass in the sun baked highway.
Considering that today she was a super hero, and not the petty villain she was most days; she stopped to see what was going on. Layla was most definitely glad she did, for Sylar was found inside a tumble down cafe, holding broken glass to the throat of an innocent.
"I'll save you." She declared loudly and somewhat comically, before smacking nose first into the glass door. "f**k." Further prodding only proved that the door was in fact locked, and not a pull door that so often caught out the masses.
What to do what to do?
Laya was not stupid. She knew broken off bits of car would easily smash through pains of glass, even the reinforced glass of the local diner. So she vanished from view, only to return moments later dragging a rusted up bumper which she had prized from the front of her vehicle, left abandoned in the street behind her.
With one mighty heave, it smashed through the window like a charm, spewing shards for glass across the floor in the most fluidic of motions. Layla gingerly stepped through the gap, the ground crunching beneath her leather bound feet as she bared her weight down upon her toes. Thick rubber soles protected her flesh from nasty cuts. Thankfully she was wearing goth-girl hob-nail boots today.
She grinned, an expression somewhat foreign to her features.
"I'll save you." She said once more, only this time with gusto.
Sylar smirked.
It was a shame she'd have to kill such an attractive guy.
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