Post by Deleted on Oct 7, 2014 9:01:22 GMT -5
There were some times when you just had to slum it, and Sylar was in one of those unfortunate situations. The list he'd inherited from the doctor was not finding him the targets he needed in time to satisfy his hunger. He preferred feeding on those who had high reserves of ki and some skill to go with it in order to provide a better experience for himself than just satisfying his hunger. Now with no truly remarkable individuals in sight, it was time for a more general sweep. Of course it was not possible to just tear the skulls off of a crowd of people, you had to be stealthy about it in order to get what you wanted. Attention from the government and those stronger than him right now was not something he needed, and the bio-android placed every action around that rule.
As he stepped out the door, he felt the breeze rustle through his hair. Nary a cloud in the sky as the sun rose from the East to shine upon his face, the light being absorbed by his shark-like eyes. He breathed in, the sweet summer air entering his lungs. That was possibly the only upside to living like a drifter; he always woke up in nature. The cattle milling about in the cities stayed away from such areas in some misguided view of betterment, and it served Sylar well. In his profession anonymity was key and with his living arrangements being what they were he guaranteed no blabbermouth would out him. The warm air felt nice against his skin as he stalked the streets. The rough coat he was wearing trailed behind him as he went, purposeful strides pushing others out of the way when they foolishly impeded him.
Sylar may not have found someone special, but he did have a special someone in mind. George Conner, busboy at a nearby diner and volunteer at a number of charity drives. A good man, nicest character who had ever had the misfortune of encountering the immoral man. That was the luck of the draw, and Sylar accepted that he'd have to take what he needed from the boy to be able to lve with himself. And then maybe his sister to round things out for the family. Today he'd make due with George and then move on from there. As terrible as his hunger was, he didn't need to feed daily to satisfy it.
'Here we go again.' Thought the serial killer as he pushed open the door to the restaurant George worked at. It was still early in the morning so there were just a few regulars. As he walked in, he noted that ech and every one of them were not strong enough to do anything to stop him if they caught him attacking George. In fact, he could probably take them all on and they'd be unable to touch him!
Now there's a thought...
He stopped dead in the middle of the room and ran a finer assessment over exactly what he was facing. Customers would all be easy to contain, the wait staff weren't much of a problem, the only ones he had to worry about were the kitchen staff and anyone in the bathrooms who might get away. This really was too risky to get away with. Then again, what was that saying? You only live once? A foolish sentiment, but one he was willing to give inot in this case if it meant he'd gain more power. Gis mouth stretched into a sadistic grin as he summoned up his absorbed power, a sickly red aura pulsing around him as invisible waves of force shot out and pinned people against the walls. Sylar could sense everything in their ki, not just their power. He knew what they felt, he could tell they were afraid and this excited him. Raising both hands up, he made a pulling motion and the others he sensed beyond the room were drawn in to join their friends.
Now, where to start? He'd already begun the delicate task of setting them all up around the room with his telekinesis, but who would go first? Oh, there was Georgie. That made the selection process much easier. Sylar raised his index and middle fingers up and dragged them through the air, with a line of blood mimicking the motion of George's forehead. The sharp screeching sound of the bone being sheared through by sheer telekinetic force was ignored by Sylar, though it gave his prisoners an added incentive to scream. He sighed and let out another burst with his aura, silencing them by hitting them with a stronger wave of force. A few of them were bleeding from the backs of their heads, but he wasn't concerned with that. A little injury like that wouldn't matter once they were dead.
"You know, this would all be over a lot sooner if you hadn't struggled."
Sylar stood in the middle of the bloody room, the wasted corpses lying on the floor in the manner of food leftovers. After he'd taken what they'd had to offer, the usefulness of his captives had run out and so had his care for their bodies. The authorities would give the proper treatment, he just had to not mess them up too badly. The body he had been speaking to had belonged to the head waitress, and reading her tag revealed that her name had been Mary. She'd fought back admirably against his mental bonds, but really all she'd done was make it more painful for herself.
Slipping his cap on, Sylar did a heel turn and left the restaurant, firing a ki blast behind him as he went. There were some crimes he didn't need tied to him, and a mass murder like that was one of them.
As he stepped out the door, he felt the breeze rustle through his hair. Nary a cloud in the sky as the sun rose from the East to shine upon his face, the light being absorbed by his shark-like eyes. He breathed in, the sweet summer air entering his lungs. That was possibly the only upside to living like a drifter; he always woke up in nature. The cattle milling about in the cities stayed away from such areas in some misguided view of betterment, and it served Sylar well. In his profession anonymity was key and with his living arrangements being what they were he guaranteed no blabbermouth would out him. The warm air felt nice against his skin as he stalked the streets. The rough coat he was wearing trailed behind him as he went, purposeful strides pushing others out of the way when they foolishly impeded him.
Sylar may not have found someone special, but he did have a special someone in mind. George Conner, busboy at a nearby diner and volunteer at a number of charity drives. A good man, nicest character who had ever had the misfortune of encountering the immoral man. That was the luck of the draw, and Sylar accepted that he'd have to take what he needed from the boy to be able to lve with himself. And then maybe his sister to round things out for the family. Today he'd make due with George and then move on from there. As terrible as his hunger was, he didn't need to feed daily to satisfy it.
'Here we go again.' Thought the serial killer as he pushed open the door to the restaurant George worked at. It was still early in the morning so there were just a few regulars. As he walked in, he noted that ech and every one of them were not strong enough to do anything to stop him if they caught him attacking George. In fact, he could probably take them all on and they'd be unable to touch him!
Now there's a thought...
He stopped dead in the middle of the room and ran a finer assessment over exactly what he was facing. Customers would all be easy to contain, the wait staff weren't much of a problem, the only ones he had to worry about were the kitchen staff and anyone in the bathrooms who might get away. This really was too risky to get away with. Then again, what was that saying? You only live once? A foolish sentiment, but one he was willing to give inot in this case if it meant he'd gain more power. Gis mouth stretched into a sadistic grin as he summoned up his absorbed power, a sickly red aura pulsing around him as invisible waves of force shot out and pinned people against the walls. Sylar could sense everything in their ki, not just their power. He knew what they felt, he could tell they were afraid and this excited him. Raising both hands up, he made a pulling motion and the others he sensed beyond the room were drawn in to join their friends.
Now, where to start? He'd already begun the delicate task of setting them all up around the room with his telekinesis, but who would go first? Oh, there was Georgie. That made the selection process much easier. Sylar raised his index and middle fingers up and dragged them through the air, with a line of blood mimicking the motion of George's forehead. The sharp screeching sound of the bone being sheared through by sheer telekinetic force was ignored by Sylar, though it gave his prisoners an added incentive to scream. He sighed and let out another burst with his aura, silencing them by hitting them with a stronger wave of force. A few of them were bleeding from the backs of their heads, but he wasn't concerned with that. A little injury like that wouldn't matter once they were dead.
"You know, this would all be over a lot sooner if you hadn't struggled."
Sylar stood in the middle of the bloody room, the wasted corpses lying on the floor in the manner of food leftovers. After he'd taken what they'd had to offer, the usefulness of his captives had run out and so had his care for their bodies. The authorities would give the proper treatment, he just had to not mess them up too badly. The body he had been speaking to had belonged to the head waitress, and reading her tag revealed that her name had been Mary. She'd fought back admirably against his mental bonds, but really all she'd done was make it more painful for herself.
Slipping his cap on, Sylar did a heel turn and left the restaurant, firing a ki blast behind him as he went. There were some crimes he didn't need tied to him, and a mass murder like that was one of them.