Heroes Halloween Drabble
Just a little Halloweeny Heroes for you.
Title: Halloween at the Carnival
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: G
Word count: 200
Spoilers: none. Slight reference to earlier seasons, but very slight.
Disclaimer: Mine? Yeah right. Heroes, concepts, characters, etc. all belong to NBC and Kring.
Edgar’s eyes gleam as he slowly polishes his most beloved knife, glaring at Sylar the entire time. Sylar returns the glare, and his fingers twitch as he starts gathering all his power, just waiting for the other man to make the first move.
Lydia alternates between rolling her eyes at their antics and whispering to Samuel, “If you told them to stop, they would. This is so juvenile!”
Samuel pats her on the hand, and smiles. “Ah, like I’ve told you before, boys will be boys. All will be well, don’t worry so much.” He nods at his alpha males. “You may begin.”
Unable to watch the massacre unfold, Lydia closes her eyes. Samuel grips her hand, and when she opens her eyes again not even fifteen seconds later, she’s surrounded by a sea of pumpkin carnage and, in the middle of the mess, are two pumpkin gut-covered carnies and two hastily carved jack o’lanterns, one perfectly depicting her image and the other with a crudely etched airplane on it.
She has to laugh. Even if Edgar hadn’t been trying to butter her up, she’d still award him the prize; Sylar might be fast, but he certainly isn’t an artist.
Title: Halloween at the Carnival
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: G
Word count: 200
Spoilers: none. Slight reference to earlier seasons, but very slight.
Disclaimer: Mine? Yeah right. Heroes, concepts, characters, etc. all belong to NBC and Kring.
Edgar’s eyes gleam as he slowly polishes his most beloved knife, glaring at Sylar the entire time. Sylar returns the glare, and his fingers twitch as he starts gathering all his power, just waiting for the other man to make the first move.
Lydia alternates between rolling her eyes at their antics and whispering to Samuel, “If you told them to stop, they would. This is so juvenile!”
Samuel pats her on the hand, and smiles. “Ah, like I’ve told you before, boys will be boys. All will be well, don’t worry so much.” He nods at his alpha males. “You may begin.”
Unable to watch the massacre unfold, Lydia closes her eyes. Samuel grips her hand, and when she opens her eyes again not even fifteen seconds later, she’s surrounded by a sea of pumpkin carnage and, in the middle of the mess, are two pumpkin gut-covered carnies and two hastily carved jack o’lanterns, one perfectly depicting her image and the other with a crudely etched airplane on it.
She has to laugh. Even if Edgar hadn’t been trying to butter her up, she’d still award him the prize; Sylar might be fast, but he certainly isn’t an artist.