Taking a Turn Toward Eternity: Interlude I
Interlude: With a Little Help From My Friends
Sylar's gotta get him some powers!
AN: Sylar deserves a friend. Claire's his girl and Peter's his friend, right? But boys can always benefit from a friend who happens to be a girl. This awesome interlude gives him one. Just to clarify, this takes place before the previous chapters, about a month after Claire jumps and about 5 months before where we are now. Sorry for any confusion, and I'm always willing to clear things up... so anyone just ask!
I am broke, I wouldn't be if I owned anything... Language ahead that is bad for kiddies, and other things like murder and stuff... Thanks for reading!
INTERLUDE: With a Little Help From My Friends
Sylar had met Mackenzie Desmond under rather interesting circumstances. The life of a power collector was always an interesting one, as Sylar had come to learn. That particular Wednesday morning had been no exception.
The world, still reeling from the shock of Claire's jump a month before, was turning into a different place. The unevolved and uneducated were slightly panicked, and attempting to pull the general public along with them into a world of paranoia. Legislation was on the table to track and mark every person with abilities. Luckily for him, Sylar was an off the grid kind of guy. Just let them try and track him. God, he fucking dared the government to come after him... bureaucratic pigs.
But there were a few organizations and other groups staunchly supporting the specials. Sylar personally thought that the President or someone close to him was a special, as Washington had continued to remain neutral, despite a public clamoring for strict action. The President had also been firmly set against experimentation or any type of incarceration; he had made angry veiled references to Nathan's secret special hunt. He had also mentioned in a recent press conference that he was working closely with several members of the "special community." Sylar would bet dollars to doughnuts that a branch of special-special ops was already well underway.
Despite the brave new world and all it's untold madness, Sylar had a lot of work to do. He had the most well known woman in the world to protect until the end of the planet, a powerful hunger to fight and a moral compass to locate. He had been pursuing a wonderfully intriguing ability, plant manipulation. Sylar had been genuinely excited with the prospect of unfolding a brand new, incredibly complex ability. Giddy was, in fact, probably a better word to describe him right now. According to his research, Jackson Merson, the plant manipulator was a genius at his craft.
At this phase in his game, Sylar really had to pick and choose his abilities well, as he was creating the ultimate arsenal, a cache of abilities that would easily carry him and his precious girl (Once she didn't abhor the very sight of him) to the ends of time. There were just so many levels to her protection to be considered. On a personal note, he was comforted by Micah's ability, due to the fact that he could pretty much check on Claire anytime he wanted. People don't even notice how many cameras they are on every damn day. For the time being, she was protected though, and hopefully Peter would be able to maintain a handle on that for the time being. Claire extreme notoriety had been working wonders to deter the shadier characters.
He needed to be prepared for every eventuality. Sylar knew the means to create a green, thriving and beautiful world would have more than one usefulness as time went on. Sylar wanted Claire to have eternity, and he really wanted her to enjoy it.
He had gained a complete understanding of Micah's ability over the last few weeks, pouring over C++ and Linux manuals, and spent countless hours studying fucking binary, which he had thought would honestly be the death of him. 'Immortality be damned,' he'd told Micah over the phone a week after copying his power, 'I'll jab a stake into the sweet spot myself if these ones and zeroes don't let me get some rest.' Micah had laughed at him for a couple seconds, then proceeded to go into a 30 minute lecture on the importance of binary, on a technological, cultural and social level.
As Micah's ability became second nature, the hunger had clawed and snapped, begged and pleaded, as it had been his demanding attention for days now, and some serious action was required immediately. Something new… fresh… that's what he needed. Controlling the hunger via the empathy was proving to be a challenge within itself, being around any new power was always a temptation and Sylar was very ready to 'feed' the veracious hunger.
His technologically enhanced Internet search for abilities had led him to unremarkable English, Indiana. The town was barely a speck on the map, and there was good reason for that, there was nothing there except a church, a gas station and a liquor store. Obviously that factor had worked in Sylar's favor, as he didn't see a single person on his way to the residence of one Jackson Merson. Of course Sylar had his cover story and fake persona ready for any problems he may encounter. After all impersonation was one of Sylar's favorite hobbies, but despite his enjoyment of deception he was relieved that he hadn't had to deal with anyone. His nerves were as frayed as they had been in a long time. He'd never tried to convince a stranger to give him their ability with this empathy and he was apprehensive to say the least.
Nevertheless, he approached the front door with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Sylar figured that the old adage, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar" was pretty apt when you needed to understand someone the way he did now, this empathy thing was trickier than one might assume, even for an ability savant like himself. This acquisition was vital on multiple levels and it was time to get it done.
Sylar raised his hand to knock on the door and before he could finish the motion, a series of crashes sounded from within the house. He was in the house within a second and headed in the direction of the sounds in less than two, hands charged with Elle's electricity.
He'd left Peter's kitchen just over 3 hours ago, only after giving his solemn pledge not to kill anybody while he was gone. Peter had put his hand on Sylar's shoulder just as he headed out of the door saying, "Seriously, you always have a choice. I have to trust you to make the right one. Do you know how hard that is for me, dude?"
Sylar truly wanted to be a person who was worthy of being Peter's friend, a person who was worthy of having any friends at that. Sylar had turned and looked Peter dead in the eye. "I'm not the same man, Peter."
Pete had smiled, "I know, now prove it, jackass."
They had had thousands of little moments together that had pulled them closer, bringing Peter and Sylar into a real friendship, shrugging almost in sync they awkwardly exchanged a bro-hug that was quick to happen, but fierce in emotional impact.
The struggle was in the kitchen, and Sylar was lucky that he was a reformed serial killer because the scene unfolding before him was not for the faint of heart. Jackson Merson was fighting with everything he had when Sylar reached the threshold. He stood directly behind Merson, using the man's bulky body to obscure himself from view. Plants, large and small, flowers and trees, roots, vines and branches were radiating out from him in every direction, covering most every surface in the room, surging towards the girl standing in the threshold of the back door.
She could easily be termed beautiful, Sylar mused, especially while standing in the path of destruction without a blink. Taller than most women and carrying herself with a cockiness that seemed ingrained. Her face was long with an oval shape like her body. Despite himself and his current quest at hand, he found her entrancing, and those sharp blue eyes were fixed on her prey, and Sylar knew that she knew of the HUNGER. Sylar saw a small, very familiar smile cross her face. The plants were heading for her menacingly as Jackson yelled over the crashes and bangs, "You think you can just take whatever you want, little girl?"
"Nope," there was laughter in her voice, skirting around the edges of her words, "I know I can."
Sylar watched the vicious plants whip and shoot towards her. Merson's power was magnificent, as promised, to see in action, his control of his ability obviously incredibly honed, but the girl seemed untroubled by the forest about to whip her in the face. Her arrogance was definitely something Sylar appreciated, and as he was about to learn, rather justified. Just as the first wave of branches and stickers encroached upon her personal space, they went brown, dry and dead. Sylar watched, fascinated as the brown spread down the vines with incalculable speed, spearing towards Merson.
Merson screamed as the darkness reached his hands. He fell to his knees, his scream melting into a pained moan as he fell. All the renegade plants were ceasing their movements and dropping lifeless to the ground, browning and decaying as they fell. The room got hotter, the air changed, thick with moisture and Sylar felt, for one of the few times in his life, a tingling at the base of his spine. Something was very wrong here.
The girl walked toward Merson, who was howling on the ground in terrible pain. She glided effortlessly across the room, her high heels crushing dead plants as her smile now turned to smirk. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm going to enjoy this Jackson," she said and seemed to get the chills, "And I just gotta tell you…" she put her lips right next to Jackson's ear, "This is really going to hurt."
Instantly the heat multiplied tenfold and what remained of the plants turned to ash. The air in the room was gone, reflexively Sylar's lungs demanded air and he began coughing... but he continued to go unnoticed. The girl had bigger fish to fry. Her right hand was hovering over the top of Merson's head, Sylar watched as the man's hair fell to the ground, the brown, terrible death spread down his body. She was draining the man, sucking him dry. His skin flaked and peeled away from his body and his organs seemed to melt away, his entire body shriveled and dead, within seconds reduced to nothing but lonely bones. The girl's head was thrown back and her face contorted in ecstasy and she seemed to shake with terrible power as she absorbed the essence of what had been Jackson Merson.
"Shit," Sylar said quietly, impressed, and intrigued. She had obliterated the man... not a trace, except some creepy charred bones. Impressive. Sylar had to admire destruction like that, his hunger loved to see raw, uncontrolled power and that sight had been like nothing he had seen yet.
Blue eyes shot straight toward him and her right hand shot up threateningly, into a familiar position, "Who the hell are you?" she was out of breath, clearly reeling from the power intake, eyes glazed with near-madness. She slowly started to back towards the door as she questioned him, confused by his presence.
In a calming gesture he smiled, using all his considerable charms and put his hands up, "My name is Sylar. Now just put the hand down and let's talk about what you just did, because it was freaking amazing."
Her face had lit up and she'd smiled at him, "You have got to be either kidding or crazy."
He'd chuckled once to himself, "Depends on who you ask."
"Well, what if I asked you?"
"Special."
"How special?" with that she'd raised one eyebrow at him and he knew he'd found himself a friend for life.
So they'd talked for hours. They had sat at the table of the man she had murdered and talked until the sun had set. Sharing a burden of a power beyond their will, they had bonded quickly. While Sylar had at one time been forced to cut his victims' in order to view their brains, Mac had been facing problems of her own. Mac's power had developed at the age of 14 and had ruined her life within a week.
For weeks preceding the manifestation of her ability, Mackenzie told Sylar, she'd been so fucking thirsty that she couldn't even think. As a middle-school aged kid, she had been involved in activities and sports, so she had naturally been drinking a decent amount of water, but it had never helped. A constant burning in her throat had been the beginning, and as time raced against a confused little girl, the burn spread and spread throughout her body, begging for relief.
Real relief was not in the cards for young Mackenzie Desmond. Mac and her bestest friend Liz had been heading from their English class to Algebra when shock waves of extreme pain had shot through Mac's nerve endings. The burning had acquired razors, and it was unlike any pain she had felt before or since that day. She'd felt her eyes glaze over, and her vision had fogged to the point of the world existing in giant colored blurs.
Just like Sylar had witnessed first hand, the entire hallway had turned into a hot-box, and though out the hallway, kids had began gasping desperately for air. Liz had screamed, and Mac turned to the left to see she had dropped to the floor and was writhing and crying, clearly in agony.
Acting on instinct, Mac at attempted to pull her friend off the floor. The moment Mac touched the girl, Liz had literally disintegrated, in front of her best friend's eyes, the unchecked raw power of Mackenzie's ability turning the other girl into nothing but atoms, obliterating Liz in less than an instant.
"Oh God," Mac whimpered as she stared at her hands, knowing on some level this had been her doing. Her hands were pulsing with some kind of energy, green, blue and yellow sparks jumped between her hands as she remain crouched, immobile and shocked on the floor. What had just happened? How had that happened? WHAT HAD SHE DONE? Unconsciously, tears were now pouring from Mac's eyes as she looked up and into the eyes of her terrified and choking gym teacher. All down the hall, children and teachers were struggling desperately to breathe in an airless void.
As she looked down the hall she could see wisps of different colors in the air, gravitating towards her, obviously generating from her peers and instructors. This was clearly what she needed... she just knew it! So she took what she could. She focused her thoughts, grabbing at the colors, pulling the very essence out of her victims. She could feel the 'colors' entering her body, a whole fountain of energy, knowledge and power flowing into her. OH GOD! GLORIOUS!
Suddenly, Mac knew the date of the Spanish Inquisition, how to create a polymer and the square root of 856,424. She knew the answers for her Shakespeare quiz for Friday, the number of students enrolled in her class and the moral standpoint of the British Monarchy. She felt stronger, faster, smarter and so very special.
Mac had been a good and friendly student, she'd known the names of more than half her victims that morning, but it hadn't mattered. The power, that was all that had mattered, before or since. Mac had felt genuine remorse for a few moments, but the glory and thrill was too great for her to ever deny.
Shocked and confused, riding an incredible power high, Mac had ran. She ran until her runner's legs gave out under her almost 5 miles later. She'd never gone home, never looked for her family and never contacted a single person she had known. During her story Mackenzie had managed to find a bottle of whiskey in Merson's kitchen and had drank consistently throughout the entire tale of her youth.
Sylar had joined her at the bottle when it was his turn to explain a few things to his new friend. He'd covered the amazing feeling of acquiring his first power, the terror/glory of his first kill, the manipulation of the glasses though out the last few years of his life and being stuck in the fucking body of the father of the girl he was obsessed with. This had led to a discussion of his tattoo, which she had laughed about quite a bit, specifically about the stupidity of that type of power usage... touching was not something Mac enjoyed doing. It had taken years for Mac to be capable of touching anybody without sucking them dry.
They had gone on to discuss powers they had, powers they wanted and ones they never wanted. Mac had a wonderful power tracking ability that Sylar had wanted. Mac had explained the meticulous process of getting wasted when you had regenerating cells and Sylar had explained how his ability had unlocked to give him the chance to take powers without killing. Mac was completely alone and content. Sylar was giving it his all to keep Peter close, and establish at least one real connection in this world.
For hours the pair shared secrets that few would ever understand, as they both constantly chased power that would only disappear with time. Fighting their hunger, they both had long come to the conclusion that they would never again be able to bond with another person. Mac was glad to have found someone she actually could stand the presence of. Sylar was happy to discover that Mac, despite her ruthlessness, was interesting and thoughtful and extremely intelligent.
So they traveled together for a few weeks, attempting to acquire the creme de la creme of abilities, working together and forming the greatest arsenal they could conceive and loving every minute of it. It was the first time Sylar had had a friend since the Mohinder/Zach deception.
But... both Sylar and Mac were loners at heart. It was also difficult for him to be right near her for the kills, as he could literally feel the power in the air, and watching her... sometimes the hunger would beg him to kill her, beg him to return the thrill of feeling the end of another. He knew there were moments when she knew, she would just stare at him, cold and dark, daring his hunger to fight her own.
In the end they parted ways easily, Sylar headed home to New York, with new wondrous abilities in tow, conscience guilt free for his return to Peter. Mac headed to tour Europe via Amsterdam, prepared to enjoy the perks of their newly found teleportation ability the week before. Like two magnets of sever power, they had to separate, feeling the danger and temptation of the kill between them. Sylar waved as she disappeared before his eyes and felt relaxed and empowered. He had managed weeks without killing, under sever desire he had stood strong, quenching the hunger, triumphing over his demons and staying strong his word. He was a new man with a new friend and now it was time to go home.
Sylar's gotta get him some powers!
AN: Sylar deserves a friend. Claire's his girl and Peter's his friend, right? But boys can always benefit from a friend who happens to be a girl. This awesome interlude gives him one. Just to clarify, this takes place before the previous chapters, about a month after Claire jumps and about 5 months before where we are now. Sorry for any confusion, and I'm always willing to clear things up... so anyone just ask!
I am broke, I wouldn't be if I owned anything... Language ahead that is bad for kiddies, and other things like murder and stuff... Thanks for reading!
INTERLUDE: With a Little Help From My Friends
Sylar had met Mackenzie Desmond under rather interesting circumstances. The life of a power collector was always an interesting one, as Sylar had come to learn. That particular Wednesday morning had been no exception.
The world, still reeling from the shock of Claire's jump a month before, was turning into a different place. The unevolved and uneducated were slightly panicked, and attempting to pull the general public along with them into a world of paranoia. Legislation was on the table to track and mark every person with abilities. Luckily for him, Sylar was an off the grid kind of guy. Just let them try and track him. God, he fucking dared the government to come after him... bureaucratic pigs.
But there were a few organizations and other groups staunchly supporting the specials. Sylar personally thought that the President or someone close to him was a special, as Washington had continued to remain neutral, despite a public clamoring for strict action. The President had also been firmly set against experimentation or any type of incarceration; he had made angry veiled references to Nathan's secret special hunt. He had also mentioned in a recent press conference that he was working closely with several members of the "special community." Sylar would bet dollars to doughnuts that a branch of special-special ops was already well underway.
Despite the brave new world and all it's untold madness, Sylar had a lot of work to do. He had the most well known woman in the world to protect until the end of the planet, a powerful hunger to fight and a moral compass to locate. He had been pursuing a wonderfully intriguing ability, plant manipulation. Sylar had been genuinely excited with the prospect of unfolding a brand new, incredibly complex ability. Giddy was, in fact, probably a better word to describe him right now. According to his research, Jackson Merson, the plant manipulator was a genius at his craft.
At this phase in his game, Sylar really had to pick and choose his abilities well, as he was creating the ultimate arsenal, a cache of abilities that would easily carry him and his precious girl (Once she didn't abhor the very sight of him) to the ends of time. There were just so many levels to her protection to be considered. On a personal note, he was comforted by Micah's ability, due to the fact that he could pretty much check on Claire anytime he wanted. People don't even notice how many cameras they are on every damn day. For the time being, she was protected though, and hopefully Peter would be able to maintain a handle on that for the time being. Claire extreme notoriety had been working wonders to deter the shadier characters.
He needed to be prepared for every eventuality. Sylar knew the means to create a green, thriving and beautiful world would have more than one usefulness as time went on. Sylar wanted Claire to have eternity, and he really wanted her to enjoy it.
He had gained a complete understanding of Micah's ability over the last few weeks, pouring over C++ and Linux manuals, and spent countless hours studying fucking binary, which he had thought would honestly be the death of him. 'Immortality be damned,' he'd told Micah over the phone a week after copying his power, 'I'll jab a stake into the sweet spot myself if these ones and zeroes don't let me get some rest.' Micah had laughed at him for a couple seconds, then proceeded to go into a 30 minute lecture on the importance of binary, on a technological, cultural and social level.
As Micah's ability became second nature, the hunger had clawed and snapped, begged and pleaded, as it had been his demanding attention for days now, and some serious action was required immediately. Something new… fresh… that's what he needed. Controlling the hunger via the empathy was proving to be a challenge within itself, being around any new power was always a temptation and Sylar was very ready to 'feed' the veracious hunger.
His technologically enhanced Internet search for abilities had led him to unremarkable English, Indiana. The town was barely a speck on the map, and there was good reason for that, there was nothing there except a church, a gas station and a liquor store. Obviously that factor had worked in Sylar's favor, as he didn't see a single person on his way to the residence of one Jackson Merson. Of course Sylar had his cover story and fake persona ready for any problems he may encounter. After all impersonation was one of Sylar's favorite hobbies, but despite his enjoyment of deception he was relieved that he hadn't had to deal with anyone. His nerves were as frayed as they had been in a long time. He'd never tried to convince a stranger to give him their ability with this empathy and he was apprehensive to say the least.
Nevertheless, he approached the front door with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Sylar figured that the old adage, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar" was pretty apt when you needed to understand someone the way he did now, this empathy thing was trickier than one might assume, even for an ability savant like himself. This acquisition was vital on multiple levels and it was time to get it done.
Sylar raised his hand to knock on the door and before he could finish the motion, a series of crashes sounded from within the house. He was in the house within a second and headed in the direction of the sounds in less than two, hands charged with Elle's electricity.
He'd left Peter's kitchen just over 3 hours ago, only after giving his solemn pledge not to kill anybody while he was gone. Peter had put his hand on Sylar's shoulder just as he headed out of the door saying, "Seriously, you always have a choice. I have to trust you to make the right one. Do you know how hard that is for me, dude?"
Sylar truly wanted to be a person who was worthy of being Peter's friend, a person who was worthy of having any friends at that. Sylar had turned and looked Peter dead in the eye. "I'm not the same man, Peter."
Pete had smiled, "I know, now prove it, jackass."
They had had thousands of little moments together that had pulled them closer, bringing Peter and Sylar into a real friendship, shrugging almost in sync they awkwardly exchanged a bro-hug that was quick to happen, but fierce in emotional impact.
The struggle was in the kitchen, and Sylar was lucky that he was a reformed serial killer because the scene unfolding before him was not for the faint of heart. Jackson Merson was fighting with everything he had when Sylar reached the threshold. He stood directly behind Merson, using the man's bulky body to obscure himself from view. Plants, large and small, flowers and trees, roots, vines and branches were radiating out from him in every direction, covering most every surface in the room, surging towards the girl standing in the threshold of the back door.
She could easily be termed beautiful, Sylar mused, especially while standing in the path of destruction without a blink. Taller than most women and carrying herself with a cockiness that seemed ingrained. Her face was long with an oval shape like her body. Despite himself and his current quest at hand, he found her entrancing, and those sharp blue eyes were fixed on her prey, and Sylar knew that she knew of the HUNGER. Sylar saw a small, very familiar smile cross her face. The plants were heading for her menacingly as Jackson yelled over the crashes and bangs, "You think you can just take whatever you want, little girl?"
"Nope," there was laughter in her voice, skirting around the edges of her words, "I know I can."
Sylar watched the vicious plants whip and shoot towards her. Merson's power was magnificent, as promised, to see in action, his control of his ability obviously incredibly honed, but the girl seemed untroubled by the forest about to whip her in the face. Her arrogance was definitely something Sylar appreciated, and as he was about to learn, rather justified. Just as the first wave of branches and stickers encroached upon her personal space, they went brown, dry and dead. Sylar watched, fascinated as the brown spread down the vines with incalculable speed, spearing towards Merson.
Merson screamed as the darkness reached his hands. He fell to his knees, his scream melting into a pained moan as he fell. All the renegade plants were ceasing their movements and dropping lifeless to the ground, browning and decaying as they fell. The room got hotter, the air changed, thick with moisture and Sylar felt, for one of the few times in his life, a tingling at the base of his spine. Something was very wrong here.
The girl walked toward Merson, who was howling on the ground in terrible pain. She glided effortlessly across the room, her high heels crushing dead plants as her smile now turned to smirk. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm going to enjoy this Jackson," she said and seemed to get the chills, "And I just gotta tell you…" she put her lips right next to Jackson's ear, "This is really going to hurt."
Instantly the heat multiplied tenfold and what remained of the plants turned to ash. The air in the room was gone, reflexively Sylar's lungs demanded air and he began coughing... but he continued to go unnoticed. The girl had bigger fish to fry. Her right hand was hovering over the top of Merson's head, Sylar watched as the man's hair fell to the ground, the brown, terrible death spread down his body. She was draining the man, sucking him dry. His skin flaked and peeled away from his body and his organs seemed to melt away, his entire body shriveled and dead, within seconds reduced to nothing but lonely bones. The girl's head was thrown back and her face contorted in ecstasy and she seemed to shake with terrible power as she absorbed the essence of what had been Jackson Merson.
"Shit," Sylar said quietly, impressed, and intrigued. She had obliterated the man... not a trace, except some creepy charred bones. Impressive. Sylar had to admire destruction like that, his hunger loved to see raw, uncontrolled power and that sight had been like nothing he had seen yet.
Blue eyes shot straight toward him and her right hand shot up threateningly, into a familiar position, "Who the hell are you?" she was out of breath, clearly reeling from the power intake, eyes glazed with near-madness. She slowly started to back towards the door as she questioned him, confused by his presence.
In a calming gesture he smiled, using all his considerable charms and put his hands up, "My name is Sylar. Now just put the hand down and let's talk about what you just did, because it was freaking amazing."
Her face had lit up and she'd smiled at him, "You have got to be either kidding or crazy."
He'd chuckled once to himself, "Depends on who you ask."
"Well, what if I asked you?"
"Special."
"How special?" with that she'd raised one eyebrow at him and he knew he'd found himself a friend for life.
So they'd talked for hours. They had sat at the table of the man she had murdered and talked until the sun had set. Sharing a burden of a power beyond their will, they had bonded quickly. While Sylar had at one time been forced to cut his victims' in order to view their brains, Mac had been facing problems of her own. Mac's power had developed at the age of 14 and had ruined her life within a week.
For weeks preceding the manifestation of her ability, Mackenzie told Sylar, she'd been so fucking thirsty that she couldn't even think. As a middle-school aged kid, she had been involved in activities and sports, so she had naturally been drinking a decent amount of water, but it had never helped. A constant burning in her throat had been the beginning, and as time raced against a confused little girl, the burn spread and spread throughout her body, begging for relief.
Real relief was not in the cards for young Mackenzie Desmond. Mac and her bestest friend Liz had been heading from their English class to Algebra when shock waves of extreme pain had shot through Mac's nerve endings. The burning had acquired razors, and it was unlike any pain she had felt before or since that day. She'd felt her eyes glaze over, and her vision had fogged to the point of the world existing in giant colored blurs.
Just like Sylar had witnessed first hand, the entire hallway had turned into a hot-box, and though out the hallway, kids had began gasping desperately for air. Liz had screamed, and Mac turned to the left to see she had dropped to the floor and was writhing and crying, clearly in agony.
Acting on instinct, Mac at attempted to pull her friend off the floor. The moment Mac touched the girl, Liz had literally disintegrated, in front of her best friend's eyes, the unchecked raw power of Mackenzie's ability turning the other girl into nothing but atoms, obliterating Liz in less than an instant.
"Oh God," Mac whimpered as she stared at her hands, knowing on some level this had been her doing. Her hands were pulsing with some kind of energy, green, blue and yellow sparks jumped between her hands as she remain crouched, immobile and shocked on the floor. What had just happened? How had that happened? WHAT HAD SHE DONE? Unconsciously, tears were now pouring from Mac's eyes as she looked up and into the eyes of her terrified and choking gym teacher. All down the hall, children and teachers were struggling desperately to breathe in an airless void.
As she looked down the hall she could see wisps of different colors in the air, gravitating towards her, obviously generating from her peers and instructors. This was clearly what she needed... she just knew it! So she took what she could. She focused her thoughts, grabbing at the colors, pulling the very essence out of her victims. She could feel the 'colors' entering her body, a whole fountain of energy, knowledge and power flowing into her. OH GOD! GLORIOUS!
Suddenly, Mac knew the date of the Spanish Inquisition, how to create a polymer and the square root of 856,424. She knew the answers for her Shakespeare quiz for Friday, the number of students enrolled in her class and the moral standpoint of the British Monarchy. She felt stronger, faster, smarter and so very special.
Mac had been a good and friendly student, she'd known the names of more than half her victims that morning, but it hadn't mattered. The power, that was all that had mattered, before or since. Mac had felt genuine remorse for a few moments, but the glory and thrill was too great for her to ever deny.
Shocked and confused, riding an incredible power high, Mac had ran. She ran until her runner's legs gave out under her almost 5 miles later. She'd never gone home, never looked for her family and never contacted a single person she had known. During her story Mackenzie had managed to find a bottle of whiskey in Merson's kitchen and had drank consistently throughout the entire tale of her youth.
Sylar had joined her at the bottle when it was his turn to explain a few things to his new friend. He'd covered the amazing feeling of acquiring his first power, the terror/glory of his first kill, the manipulation of the glasses though out the last few years of his life and being stuck in the fucking body of the father of the girl he was obsessed with. This had led to a discussion of his tattoo, which she had laughed about quite a bit, specifically about the stupidity of that type of power usage... touching was not something Mac enjoyed doing. It had taken years for Mac to be capable of touching anybody without sucking them dry.
They had gone on to discuss powers they had, powers they wanted and ones they never wanted. Mac had a wonderful power tracking ability that Sylar had wanted. Mac had explained the meticulous process of getting wasted when you had regenerating cells and Sylar had explained how his ability had unlocked to give him the chance to take powers without killing. Mac was completely alone and content. Sylar was giving it his all to keep Peter close, and establish at least one real connection in this world.
For hours the pair shared secrets that few would ever understand, as they both constantly chased power that would only disappear with time. Fighting their hunger, they both had long come to the conclusion that they would never again be able to bond with another person. Mac was glad to have found someone she actually could stand the presence of. Sylar was happy to discover that Mac, despite her ruthlessness, was interesting and thoughtful and extremely intelligent.
So they traveled together for a few weeks, attempting to acquire the creme de la creme of abilities, working together and forming the greatest arsenal they could conceive and loving every minute of it. It was the first time Sylar had had a friend since the Mohinder/Zach deception.
But... both Sylar and Mac were loners at heart. It was also difficult for him to be right near her for the kills, as he could literally feel the power in the air, and watching her... sometimes the hunger would beg him to kill her, beg him to return the thrill of feeling the end of another. He knew there were moments when she knew, she would just stare at him, cold and dark, daring his hunger to fight her own.
In the end they parted ways easily, Sylar headed home to New York, with new wondrous abilities in tow, conscience guilt free for his return to Peter. Mac headed to tour Europe via Amsterdam, prepared to enjoy the perks of their newly found teleportation ability the week before. Like two magnets of sever power, they had to separate, feeling the danger and temptation of the kill between them. Sylar waved as she disappeared before his eyes and felt relaxed and empowered. He had managed weeks without killing, under sever desire he had stood strong, quenching the hunger, triumphing over his demons and staying strong his word. He was a new man with a new friend and now it was time to go home.