Night 46: M31-40 Hallway

[rides-on-top.livejournal.com]

Emmett left his room empty handed again. It was tougher navigating without a flashlight, but it felt more comfortable. Especially with what he was going to have to do.

Outside seemed like his best bet for hunting. The dogs that attacked them last night didn't exactly smell fresh, but their blood was slightly more appetizing-- and much more likely to be digested by his system than the human food that kept being shoved in his face. Unfortunately there was also the chance that he wouldn't be able to find a semi-living, warmblooded animal out there again. Apparently there had been some Night of the Living Dead theme going on recently. So who knew, maybe it was going to be Swampthing or Frankenstein night-- he did hear that nutjob mention some bullshit like that. If that was the case then his natural prey couldn't be ruled out as an option.

He kept to the wall as he walked down the hallway. It was still early and relatively quiet. Feeding on someone he didn't know was definitely way better than attacking a friend, he was sure the others would agree...

Comments

[darwinism]

Sylar wasn't about to skip on a free ticket out of this freakshow, so when Matthew started supporting his aching weight out of the hallway, he didn't protest with much more than a grunt of pain. The lightheadedness from the power-usage and the lack of breath was making him feel like throwing up, and it was only through the sharp pain he felt on his sides that he managed to stay aware enough to walk forward.

And there was still something – something he was missing here. He couldn't figure it out through the foggy haze of his thoughts, though they were jerked back to life when Matthew asked his question.

"Uh – yeah," Sylar replied, and it was only now that he realized that he wasn't sure where the hell they were even heading. Was this – back toward the rooms? Away from the only goddamn sliver of a promise of an alliance in this place, just because a couple of assholes trying to be heroes–

Then it hit him. The piece he'd been missing in all of this. His mind slowly cleared despite the pain still throbbing through his arm and sides, and he slowly slid his eyes toward Matthew.

"You're..." he wheezed out in a very sincere show of exertion and realization, "you're Peter's roommate... right?"

[boyking]

With any luck, no one would come bursting back into the room while they were in here. Sam shut the door behind him and moved them towards the bed, dropping his things on the floor. He set his flashlight on the table, spinning it so that the beam of light fell in their direction.

"Yeah." He glanced over his shoulder. "You're Zachary?"

He didn't know if Zachary would correct the name, or if it was his name and the man was just...normally that distraught without being brainwashed, but he supposed it didn't matter. Still, Zachary bringing up Peter reignited Sam's curiosity about how those two knew each other. He remembered Zachary had recognized Peter from Sam's description of Peter's powers so they obviously knew one another well enough.

He began tearing up the bed sheet, shaking off the questions. Patch Zachary up and get to Dean. Dammit, it was annoying, not having a cell phone on either of them. They separated a lot for the job, but never without a way to contact each other.

But wringing his hands over it wasn't gonna do anything. Besides, he was fairly certain Dean would be fine. And while he was here with Zachary, he might as well get some answers, right? He felt bad for investigating while the guy was bleeding out, but...he wanted to know. And it could be important.

Maybe he could ask Peter about it, too, tomorrow.

[darwinism]

As Matthew moved toward the sheets to shred them, Sylar shrugged out of his hold, dropping down onto the edge of the opposite bed. He hissed through his teeth as the springs and momentum jostled his sore body, and he winced as he glanced down at his wounds. They weren't... terrible, not really, not after what Tyki had done to him, but he was still bleeding bad enough for it to be dangerous and dizzying.

He hissed through his teeth as he held his good hand to his torso and peered up at Matthew. Matthew, whose breakfast conversation Sylar now remembered; Matthew, who seemed a hell of a lot more competent then he'd been yesterday, doing makeshift bandages and taking down... whatever that thing was. That probably meant Matthew had gotten the same brainwashing as Sylar yesterday, which probably also meant he wasn't even 'Matthew' anymore.

Speaking of which, what the hell name was Sylar going to go by with this guy? His immediate plan, in his feverish thoughts, was to go with 'Zach' for the damn simplicity of it, but then he remembered: Brian. Brian knew Sylar as 'Gabriel' (or 'Gabe' – whatever) and he apparently knew Matthew too; if the two of them worked together, then he'd have to stay consistent, and if he already had an excuse for the 'Zachary' mix-up...

"Yeah– I mean, we talked, but..." He shook his head slowly, taking a second to think. 'Zachary' was loyal to his friends; he was kind, and understanding, and repentant. 'Gabriel', therefore, would have to be different in order for Matthew to buy the change. 'Gabriel' had already overturned a chair around Spock and gotten miffed with Brian. He'd have to be a little edgier, a little less nicey-nicey, but still a good guy at heart. Maybe that'd play better with a fighting type like Matthew anyway. Sylar, but not Sylar.

Fun.

"I'm Gabriel," he finally said. This time, he didn't outstretch a hand, or even smile. Instead, he squinted his eyes with annoyed disorientation and muttered: "Not... that idiot from yesterday."

He glanced up blearily.

"You?"

[boyking]

Gabriel it was, then. No last name, Sam noted, though right now, that didn't indicate much either way.

"Sam," he replied. His lips quirked into a wry smile. "Also not that idiot from yesterday."

Whether he actually meant it or not wasn't the point of trying to keep a somewhat amiable conversation going. Because wasn't Matthew everything he'd wanted to be? Well, minus the...going insane part. But before that. School, career, Jess. Mom and Dad alive. None of this soul-selling demon crap. If Dean's failed attempted suicide, if having a distant relationship with his brother, was the alternative to Dean selling his soul, Sam would take it in a heartbeat. Wasn't as though he could miss something they'd never had in the first place, right?

Anyway, it was exactly that which had gotten them here at all. No illusions about that; he'd always examined things far closer than he might've liked.

Sam pressed a strip of cloth against Zachary's—Gabriel's—side. There wasn't anything close to alcohol or water around, but by now, he'd figured out that they just needed to stop the bleeding and things would get taken care of in the morning. However that worked.

"So how do you know Peter, anyway?" Curious, but not pressing too hard.

Gabriel did seem to have some less-than-human tricks up his sleeve. Maybe that was how they knew each other? Peter talked like there were plenty of others out there, or at least enough for it not to be wholly uncommon. And hadn't Peter mentioned electricity once during one of their conversations? Sam remembered he had.

[darwinism]

Sam, Sylar thought in the same moment that he felt the cloth press up against his injuries. He grimaced in agitation, trying not to make any noise; if he was going to be less than an absolutely nice guy, he had to act as if he had the tough perks that came along with it.

Zachary would have returned Sam's introduction with some kind of "nice to meet you," but Sylar made sure that Gabriel only replied with a muttered "that's good to hear" as he tried to relax his muscles. Inwardly, Sylar's mind continued to race through all aspects of the situation that worked for and against him: his position as a victim coupled with his use of electrokinesis; his connection to Peter's roommate and all the good and bad that could come of it. Dammit, if it hadn't been for Zach that morning, this situation might have turned out drastically different. Sylar could have been the one with the advantage of knowledge, like with Wally. But here, he'd have to do damage control, and who knew how much Sam and Peter had already talked over dinner?

And of course, Sam had to go out and ask the worst question from the get-go. Sylar couldn't help but furrow his brow a little more deeply, which hopefully looked like just another effect of the pain. Sam seemed sharper than Matthew already, and if the ease with which he'd taken down the monster and done up these bandages was any indication, he was used to situations where people got hurt.

"Peter?" Sylar got out with a breath, using exhaustion as a cover for taking a couple of seconds to think of an explanation. He figured vaguely true was the best policy for now. "We're from the same world. We have some... things in common."

If he was lucky, he could at least screw Peter over in the keeping-powers-secret department, though the moron was never much good at that anyway.

[boyking]

All right, so maybe not the friendliest guy in the world, but he had nearly gotten crushed and devoured alive. Sam figured he couldn't exactly blame Gabriel for feeling less-than-social. It was kind of interesting, though, to be seeing the real man behind the Zachary of yesterday. More so because Sam couldn't actually recall with precise detail how he was. The facts, sure, but everything else, the way he'd been, the way he'd acted and why, it was all—hard to grasp. But observing it in someone else was a different story.

"Yeah, I, uh. Saw what happened back there." Same looked up briefly before returning his attention to the still-bleeding wound. "Must come in handy."

He kept the bandaging as loose as possible; if the force of that snake-like body and his trouble breathing was anything to go by, Gabriel had to have cracked a rib or two. Which wasn't the worst thing to break. He'd still be somewhat mobile, and at least the man hadn't ended up with a punctured lung.

"Peter mentioned something similar about himself," he added. His roommate might've been pretty open about it, but Sam didn't know just how much of a secret something like this was supposed to be. He didn't really want to give off the impression that it was because of Gabriel that he'd somehow stumbled across this news in case it...made Gabriel nervous or something. He already seemed a little on edge as it was.

Besides, he was curious, too, what Gabriel would think of an outsider knowing. Peter clearly wasn't concerned, but Peter's overall disposition was obviously different from Gabriel's. Would it matter that Peter had said something to Sam? It was all a little mysterious, he had to admit. He couldn't even tell yet if Peter and Gabriel were friends or not, or exactly how well they knew each other. Gabriel hadn't referred to him as such, but that could've easily been due to some kind of natural distrust.

And yeah, he could always ask Peter about these things, but he was trying to get his answers elsewhere whenever possible. To trim down the list. It wasn't as if he could run through a laundry list of questions every time they ate dinner together, and he didn't have the time to go through them one by one, either. He was still trying to figure out how to work his need to investigate when he wasn't operating as an authority figure, but as a...a friend. Acquaintance. A person wherein social convention dictated that he had to have conversations with people instead of grilling them.

Anyway, he didn't want to make Peter feel like he was just there to give Sam information since the truth was, Peter was one of the handful of people who actually weren't. Strange as that was to consider.

[darwinism]

[ IT AIN'T OVER 'TILL THE FAT LADY SINGS. >:| ]

"Yeah, you could... say that," Sylar winced as Sam continued wrapping his injuries. The guy wasn't making them hurt too bad, which meant he either really knew what he was doing or he really... didn't. Either way, the last thing Sylar could do right now was let on just how much he enjoyed the only thing that he and Peter had 'in common', so he decided to deflect. Make Sam answer some questions rather than ask them.

"So, uh... that guy... back there," he breathed, jerking the thumb of his good hand back at the door. "He your friend? We've... uh... talked."

And that was a question that Sylar wanted answered. He'd been right about his first impression of Brian: the bastard had been trying to come off a whole lot more clueless than he really was. After all, it took a good amount of confidence or a special kind of stupid for someone to rush in and save a quasi-stranger like that, and while Peter was definitely one of the latter, Sylar wasn't sure about these guys. So far, Sam's actions had been better than amateur, and the fact that he'd left Brian alone to fight the thing said a lot about both Brian's capabilities and their mutual trust. Raiding buddies, maybe? This couldn't possibly be their first time doing this...

Which meant they'd probably searched around this place. They probably had a few practical resources at their disposal, or at least some infor–

Sylar tried his best not to whimper as an especially intense throb of pain racked his system. He shut his eyes, attempting to reconcile his train of thought...

Right. Raiding buddies. But Sylar couldn't jump ahead of himself: he had to know whether or not these guys were worth it before he invested time in 'befriending' them.

[boyking]

They'd spoken? Huh. Dean hadn't mentioned anything about a Gabriel which meant that he hadn't found the encounter noteworthy. What did Dean think about Gabriel now, assuming he'd seen what Gabriel could do the same way Sam had? And he must've seen. No way that would've escaped anyone's attention, never mind Dean's.

Yeah, wasn't that something to consider.

Sam blinked and gave a slight shake of his head to dislodge his hair from his eyes. "Something like that. We know each other from back home," he went on, making an attempt to not sound evasive or curt without giving too much away. It didn't really make a difference whether he'd known Dean outside of here or not. Honestly, he doubted it made much of a difference if someone knew they were brothers—the only people, the only things, that did matter, well, they already knew—but he wasn't used to representing them as such. It just felt out of place.

"I didn't think you'd have met, though. Small world."

Or small fake institute, rather. Gabriel knowing both Peter and Dean, though? Funny how that worked. He wondered if someone made a flowchart or a web graph of everyone in the institute, what it would look like.

Probably like a lot of spiderwebs collided with one another. Never mind.

He finished wrapping the makeshift bandages and eyed his handiwork, though when Gabriel closed his eyes, he frowned, concerned. At least Gabriel seemed to be fairly alert. In pain, obviously, but he wasn't slurring his words or losing track mid-conversation. That was a good sign. Still.

"It didn't get you anywhere else, did it?"

There wasn't anything he could see, but considering his only light source was a freaking flashlight, what he could see was hardly reliable. As much as he wanted to get back to Dean, it'd be pretty bad if he left and Gabriel was still bleeding out from somewhere he'd missed; too much time spent patching Dean up had taught him that it was easier to miss injuries than not, if you weren't careful.

[darwinism]

Back home? That made sense – more sense than raiding buddies, even, though it seemed like their relationship involved that too. Sylar also noted how Sam was as vague about Brian as Sylar had been about Peter; was he, too, being evasive for a reason?

"Yeah," Sylar replied with a small, wry laugh to Sam's comment. It was funny to how these kinds of things played out, but then again, Sylar wasn't a stranger to coincidence. Too many of his plans had been stopped at the last second through improbable means; too many of them had been set in motion in the first place through what could be nothing less than acts of fate. Sylar having already talked to Sam and his buddy, along with Sam's connection to Peter – it was all just an extension of that. A whole web of connections for Sylar to use, and with Wally finally being completely in the palm of his hand? How very unlucky for everyone but him.

Sam seemed to finish with the bandaging and Sylar let out a relieved – if painful – breath.

"No, it didn't." He motioned vaguely at his bad hand, whose center looked swollen around the near-healed wound. "There's this, but it's old anyway. Probably gonna be gone by morning, the way this place works."

He closed his eyes; he still hurt, but at least he wasn't bleeding so bad. Realizing he should keep driving the conversation if he didn't want Sam to start prying, he added: "So... how long you been here, anyway?"

[boyking]

Sam rose up from where he'd been kneeling, stopping himself from running a hand through his hair just in time when he realized that his fingers were coated in Gabriel's blood. Water would definitely be a nice addition to the rooms, no matter how impractical. Of course, he knew the staff would only fix up the injuries the next morning, so the usual first aid rules didn't apply in this case, but he couldn't help the instinctual thought that Gabriel was gonna get a surefire infection this way.

His gaze settled on Gabriel's bandaged hand. He didn't ask, though he did absently wonder how it'd happened. The man did seem pretty beat up, and not just from tonight's attack. Bad luck, maybe? Gabriel didn't give off the sense that he was the type to actively wander into danger. Besides, at the institute, things were more likely to wander towards you before you could even think about looking for them. At this point, Sam was pretty much just waiting for something to sneak up on him and Dean while they were hunting something else. That would really complete their night.

The unexpected question made him return his attention to Gabriel. "Long enough," he replied. "A week and some."

He hesitated, gave Gabriel another once-over, eyebrows furrowed. "Look, I hate to do this, but my friend's still back there. Are you gonna be okay by yourself?"

He'd stay, if it looked as though Gabriel needed it, but as callous as it sounded, he'd much prefer if that weren't the case. Dean might not have known exactly where Sam had gone, but it wouldn't have been hard to guess. There weren't a lot of safe retreat options; the rooms were simply common sense. Dean should've come looking by now. This wasn't like back home, where they had to take care of the corpse, make sure they didn't give any wandering tourists a cause to require therapy for life.