Fic: Red and White ; Fic: Apocalypse Please
Title: Red and White
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: Candy Cane
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic holiday prompt table. I won't be posting the rest till after Jan cause I leave for St.Petersburg tonight. This is not fluffy. I don't think so.
Red and white.
Blood and purity.
One is of pain while the other is of a spark of something better.
Sylar has red and white days.
The red days are filled with nameless faces that come and rip, tear, cut and pierce at Sylar’s flesh, going deeper with each session as they try to figure out how Sylar works.
It’s these days that all Sylar can see is red.
The white days don’t start until a lab coat covering dark caramel skin, and a head full of curls enter his cement cell.
As always Mohinder checks the straps hindering Sylar from movement, and monitors the IV drip that pushes curare into his veins. It's always with detached precision that Mohinder visits him in his cage. The killer knows the only reason Mohinder is here is to make sure himself that Sylar can't escape.
When Mohinder leans over, Sylar notices with bleary eyes that a dark curl falling free over the geneticist's face. When he arches up (or tries) to brush it away, to just reach up and touch him, Mohinder freezes. The attempted but failed action causes Suresh to eye Sylar warily for a hesitant moment before getting back to work.
Sylar doesn't have the energy to try again and he forces his mind to focus on Suresh, to push back the murky haze of drugs swimming in his veins, and to think, analyze and comprehend.
A feather light touch dances hesitantly on his arm, distracting him and Sylar sighs at the relaxing feel of Mohinder's fingers against his aching skin. Then the pleasant touch is immediately replaced with a sharp sting, a hiss escaping from Sylar's mouth as a needle plunges into his bicep.
As his blood fills the vial, Sylar finally manages to catch Mohinder's stoic gaze.
"What day is it?"
He doesn't expect Mohinder to answer, the man never does but after a few quiet breathes Mohinder's mouth finally opens.
"December 25th," he says quietly, almost regretfully for speaking at all.
Sylar licks his dry and cracked lips, a grin forming on his tired face. "Merry Christmas then."
Mohinder frowns and pulls away, withdrawing the needle. "I don't celebrate Christmas."
"That's too bad..."
The doctor stares down at Sylar, jaw working like he means to say something else in reply. Then he turns and walks away, out of the cell, plunging it back into a comforting darkness.
Tomorrow, the red days will start again but Mohinder will be back, unknowingly bringing Sylar the only thing that keeps him here.
A perfect balance of red and white.
When he finally decides to escape he'll make sure that all they can see is red blood and pain.
For Mohinder, he'll drown the man in white showers of pleasure.
Willingly or not.
~
Title: Apocalypse Please
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar, Adam
Rating: PG13
Prompt: Mistletoe
Warning: Violence. Zombies.
A/N: Also written for mylar_fic holiday prompt table. This one is for for mabetini!
“Very smart plan, Monroe. I applaud you on your genius of using a mutated version of the Shanti virus on the entire population.”
Adam isn't fazed in the slightest as he swings his Kensei sword at one particular zombie, decapitating it before he bothers to answer.
“I know sarcasm when I hear it, Sylar. But the blame is not all mine. These results, the living dead, belong to that of our dear Doctor Suresh.”
“What?" Mohinder looks up from bashing a Company employee, now a zombie’s, head in with a bat. "How is this my fault?”
The three move cautiously down the hallway, lights swaying from the ceiling flickering in and out of existence. Adam has his bloody sword out, leading the way while Sylar trails behind. Mohinder is stuck between the two, armed only with a baseball bat. His white lab coat, now splattered with blood of the dead, billows around him as he steps carefully, every so often nudged by Sylar when the serial killer thinks he’s walking too slow.
“You were the one that created this strand of the virus.”
Mohinder stares at Sylar, appalled. “Only because you forced me to, Sylar!”
“You could have said no.” Sylar abruptly turns and telekinetically hurls chunks of a wall at two zombies approaching from behind.
“I did! Multiple times, if you can’t seem to recall.”
“And then you did it anyway. But really you should be thanking us, Mohinder. We are saving you after all.”
Mohinder just glares, eyes searching the dark hallway for any signs of undead life. Adam also seems to have disappeared into the dark. “I’d rather become one of these creatures.”
Suddenly, Mohinder is being tossed against the wall, bat falling from his hands and lips follow soon after, pressing against his.
“What the.." he sputters against Sylar’s mouth and tries to shove the taller man away. It does nothing but bring an amused grin to the killer’s face as he pulls away on his own. "What did you do that for, Sylar?!”
“Mistletoe.” Sylar deadpans, gesturing up to where the green culprit dangles in the air. “Consider that your thank you.”
“Where the hell did you find that!?”
“In the company storage room we just blasted through.”
Mohinder turns to look back, finally seeing the colourful tinsel and peaks of plastic Christmas trees smouldering past the gaping hole in the wall.
A low snarl warns them both as a zombie pounces at them, hands outstretched, and teeth snapping. Sylar’s hand flares up with blue flame, as he shoots off a quick burst causing the infected human to rear back.
Mohinder cringes inward, looking away as the creature shrieks and flails, alight with burning fire. The air grows heavy with the stench of sizzling flesh and Sylar walks over flicking his fingers to telekinetically decapitate the head of the bubbling flesh.
It’s then that Mohinder notices a gun prodding from the holster of a dead man on the floor.
Moving quickly, breath heavy with anticipation, Mohinder reaches down, unclipping the holster, fingers brushing the butt of the gun…but then a hand grasps his bicep roughly, dragging him away from his prize.
“Ah, ah. No guns for you, Suresh.”
He tries to brush off Sylar’s hold, but the man’s grip is firm. “How am I supposed to defend myself?! I don’t have powers like you or Adam.”
“But you do have the two of us defending you.”
“Two psycho killers against hundreds of the undead. Brilliant. I’m saved.”
Adam takes the opportunity to reappear, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and his suit stained with dark patches of red. The immortal twirls the sword elegantly, smirking. “You seemed quite handy with that bat. That would be an excellent weapon of choice.”
Mohinder just glowers. He knows very well the reason they won’t give him a gun is because they know he’ll try and shoot their bloody brains out if given the chance.
Heavy, fast paced footsteps and shrieks coming from back the way they came, alert them to more incoming undead.
“Splendid, time to go…” Adam pauses for a moment with a curious look on his face, as he stares at something above Mohinder’s head. “..And Sylar..”
“Hm?”
The blonde immortal starts to step away, Mohinder being dragged along by a following Sylar.
“Get rid of the mistletoe.”
~
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: Candy Cane
A/N: Written for the mylar_fic holiday prompt table. I won't be posting the rest till after Jan cause I leave for St.Petersburg tonight. This is not fluffy. I don't think so.
Red and white.
Blood and purity.
One is of pain while the other is of a spark of something better.
Sylar has red and white days.
The red days are filled with nameless faces that come and rip, tear, cut and pierce at Sylar’s flesh, going deeper with each session as they try to figure out how Sylar works.
It’s these days that all Sylar can see is red.
The white days don’t start until a lab coat covering dark caramel skin, and a head full of curls enter his cement cell.
As always Mohinder checks the straps hindering Sylar from movement, and monitors the IV drip that pushes curare into his veins. It's always with detached precision that Mohinder visits him in his cage. The killer knows the only reason Mohinder is here is to make sure himself that Sylar can't escape.
When Mohinder leans over, Sylar notices with bleary eyes that a dark curl falling free over the geneticist's face. When he arches up (or tries) to brush it away, to just reach up and touch him, Mohinder freezes. The attempted but failed action causes Suresh to eye Sylar warily for a hesitant moment before getting back to work.
Sylar doesn't have the energy to try again and he forces his mind to focus on Suresh, to push back the murky haze of drugs swimming in his veins, and to think, analyze and comprehend.
A feather light touch dances hesitantly on his arm, distracting him and Sylar sighs at the relaxing feel of Mohinder's fingers against his aching skin. Then the pleasant touch is immediately replaced with a sharp sting, a hiss escaping from Sylar's mouth as a needle plunges into his bicep.
As his blood fills the vial, Sylar finally manages to catch Mohinder's stoic gaze.
"What day is it?"
He doesn't expect Mohinder to answer, the man never does but after a few quiet breathes Mohinder's mouth finally opens.
"December 25th," he says quietly, almost regretfully for speaking at all.
Sylar licks his dry and cracked lips, a grin forming on his tired face. "Merry Christmas then."
Mohinder frowns and pulls away, withdrawing the needle. "I don't celebrate Christmas."
"That's too bad..."
The doctor stares down at Sylar, jaw working like he means to say something else in reply. Then he turns and walks away, out of the cell, plunging it back into a comforting darkness.
Tomorrow, the red days will start again but Mohinder will be back, unknowingly bringing Sylar the only thing that keeps him here.
A perfect balance of red and white.
When he finally decides to escape he'll make sure that all they can see is red blood and pain.
For Mohinder, he'll drown the man in white showers of pleasure.
Willingly or not.
~
Title: Apocalypse Please
Author: Maxinegray
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar, Adam
Rating: PG13
Prompt: Mistletoe
Warning: Violence. Zombies.
A/N: Also written for mylar_fic holiday prompt table. This one is for for mabetini!
“Very smart plan, Monroe. I applaud you on your genius of using a mutated version of the Shanti virus on the entire population.”
Adam isn't fazed in the slightest as he swings his Kensei sword at one particular zombie, decapitating it before he bothers to answer.
“I know sarcasm when I hear it, Sylar. But the blame is not all mine. These results, the living dead, belong to that of our dear Doctor Suresh.”
“What?" Mohinder looks up from bashing a Company employee, now a zombie’s, head in with a bat. "How is this my fault?”
The three move cautiously down the hallway, lights swaying from the ceiling flickering in and out of existence. Adam has his bloody sword out, leading the way while Sylar trails behind. Mohinder is stuck between the two, armed only with a baseball bat. His white lab coat, now splattered with blood of the dead, billows around him as he steps carefully, every so often nudged by Sylar when the serial killer thinks he’s walking too slow.
“You were the one that created this strand of the virus.”
Mohinder stares at Sylar, appalled. “Only because you forced me to, Sylar!”
“You could have said no.” Sylar abruptly turns and telekinetically hurls chunks of a wall at two zombies approaching from behind.
“I did! Multiple times, if you can’t seem to recall.”
“And then you did it anyway. But really you should be thanking us, Mohinder. We are saving you after all.”
Mohinder just glares, eyes searching the dark hallway for any signs of undead life. Adam also seems to have disappeared into the dark. “I’d rather become one of these creatures.”
Suddenly, Mohinder is being tossed against the wall, bat falling from his hands and lips follow soon after, pressing against his.
“What the.." he sputters against Sylar’s mouth and tries to shove the taller man away. It does nothing but bring an amused grin to the killer’s face as he pulls away on his own. "What did you do that for, Sylar?!”
“Mistletoe.” Sylar deadpans, gesturing up to where the green culprit dangles in the air. “Consider that your thank you.”
“Where the hell did you find that!?”
“In the company storage room we just blasted through.”
Mohinder turns to look back, finally seeing the colourful tinsel and peaks of plastic Christmas trees smouldering past the gaping hole in the wall.
A low snarl warns them both as a zombie pounces at them, hands outstretched, and teeth snapping. Sylar’s hand flares up with blue flame, as he shoots off a quick burst causing the infected human to rear back.
Mohinder cringes inward, looking away as the creature shrieks and flails, alight with burning fire. The air grows heavy with the stench of sizzling flesh and Sylar walks over flicking his fingers to telekinetically decapitate the head of the bubbling flesh.
It’s then that Mohinder notices a gun prodding from the holster of a dead man on the floor.
Moving quickly, breath heavy with anticipation, Mohinder reaches down, unclipping the holster, fingers brushing the butt of the gun…but then a hand grasps his bicep roughly, dragging him away from his prize.
“Ah, ah. No guns for you, Suresh.”
He tries to brush off Sylar’s hold, but the man’s grip is firm. “How am I supposed to defend myself?! I don’t have powers like you or Adam.”
“But you do have the two of us defending you.”
“Two psycho killers against hundreds of the undead. Brilliant. I’m saved.”
Adam takes the opportunity to reappear, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and his suit stained with dark patches of red. The immortal twirls the sword elegantly, smirking. “You seemed quite handy with that bat. That would be an excellent weapon of choice.”
Mohinder just glowers. He knows very well the reason they won’t give him a gun is because they know he’ll try and shoot their bloody brains out if given the chance.
Heavy, fast paced footsteps and shrieks coming from back the way they came, alert them to more incoming undead.
“Splendid, time to go…” Adam pauses for a moment with a curious look on his face, as he stares at something above Mohinder’s head. “..And Sylar..”
“Hm?”
The blonde immortal starts to step away, Mohinder being dragged along by a following Sylar.
“Get rid of the mistletoe.”
~