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[personal profile] black_hat
an old cracky response in a meme that I'm just now posting here.

Rating: R

At the beginning of the month, Sylar had felt pretty pleased with himself.

While raiding a government facility with all the latest gathered powers—right at his fingertips—he had stumbled upon another kind of find. Right next to each other, as if it was meant to be (and it was), there were two familiar blondes.

They were drugged and helpless, their clothes much too bare for the cold. He studied them, wondering if it was worth his while. It was funny to consider that if Claire couldn’t heal, why, she and Elle would have been twins with those scars across their foreheads (Claire’s with a little more circumference).

Well, it was funny to him anyway.

If they got too annoying, he’d get rid of them. It wouldn’t be his fault, as he would probably give them plenty of warnings.

They weren’t as grateful as expected but girls today were hard to please. Sylar pushed the walls down and parted the halls like it was the Red Sea (very red), and the two grudgingly followed behind him in his shadow, taking turns to glare at each other along the way.

In the car, Sylar looked into the rearview mirror to see two pairs of cold eyes.

Elle was mad for…several reasons. Claire was mad for…several reasons. There, they had common ground now.

He smiled back at them cheerfully, thinking about all the fun they’d have.


Which wasn’t very much at all.

The first week there was no peace. All there was was fighting and bickering. And it was a long trip to the house he had picked out that was underneath the government’s notice. Mostly, he tuned them out.

A blue slush-o exploded on the mirror, however, forcing him to deal with this.

“Hey!” Sylar barked out. “What the hell? What’s going on?”

“She had her cold foot on my leg!” Elle wailed. “She keeps touching me!”

“She had her foot in my f—why am I talking to you?!” Claire screamed at him.

“She keeps breathing too loudly. I think we should fix this.”

“Oh you hate everything.”

“Hey, I’ve been through a lot.”

“Me too!”

“Bullshit. I have the best excuse to hate everything!”

“You know, that'd be really sad, but I would hate myself too if I were you.”

After following the volley back and forth with his eyes, Sylar then glared at the blue gunk all over the dashboard. “Well, with or without air, someone’s going to have to clean this up.”

They both stared at him.

“If it’s not cleaned up within in two minutes—and I don’t care how—I will kill everyone in this car.”

They stared at him and he amended his words. “For keeps.”

“Including yourself,” Claire said snidely. A couple of deaths did nothing to change her into anything but a brat.

“Then hell, I’m not going to clean it,” Elle agreed, crossing her arms.

“Usually, well as always, I’m the exception. But I’m getting out of the car,” he said as he pulled over. “Two seconds and I’m setting it on fire. I hate messes.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Elle said, and Claire shared a look until she realized exactly who it was she was sharing said look with.

“Get to it,” Sylar warned, knowing, just knowing, that the radio was broken, filled with blue ice slush-o. He didn’t even like music that much. He was just using it to drown out their sounds.

The car ended up being set on fire but not through his design.

“Next time-.”

“We know.”

“For keeps.”


After Sylar reached his…happy home, they kept fighting and fighting.

He’d watch sometimes, sipping his coffee, as they scrambled for every item in the house like a pack of dogs. They should hate him, but they kept distracting each other. It was fun to watch Elle shock and burn Claire’s clothes off. It was fun to watch Claire jump on Elle despite the shocks.

…It was a lot of fun.

Until it wasn’t. One night, while he was keeping watch for any helicopters in the sky, things were quiet upstairs.

Fearing the best, Sylar made his way up the steps. He opened the bedroom door to see them talking quietly—in the corner.

They turned to look at him, made a face, and then kept talking.

Claire offered to do Elle’s hair.

It was then he started to get worried.


They all shared the same bed.

He remembered Claire’s expression, and he had taken the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “You, of course, know what this means.”

Elle had pushed past both of them into the room and bounced on the bed. “I call this side, this side!”

“This would be the only way anyone would touch you,” Claire said.

“Not really,” Elle said conversationally, crossing her legs and watching.

“Correction. That anyone normal would touch you.”

“Then that’s good news for us, precious. You’re hardly normal. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Claire furrowed her brow. “Here,” he whispered, and he grabbed a pillow and shoved it against her chest, making her jump. “We’ll have to make do with one pillow each.”

Elle had laughed with him, but then realized exactly who she was laughing with and quit.

Overall Sylar had thought the one bed situation was amusing because he had become used to be alert enough in sleep. They thought it was a test, and even though they wanted to kill him, they didn’t quite dare. It was one of his favorite psychological tortures, usually forcing Claire to touch him. He’d elbow her and wrapped an arm around her in sleep.


Until he woke up to some activity. He blinked and glanced over, and saw some blue sparks under the covers. He heard sighs and moans, and there were two silhouettes under the covers right next to him.

What was wrong with this picture? Oh yes. He wasn’t in it.

In fact, he was shocked himself. He watched as they sighed, and he saw Claire’s hand slip low and low until she reached between Elle’s thighs.

He turned over, frowning. Irritated.

Or something.

The next night, Sylar claimed Claire for himself, throwing an arm around her, faking sleep.

Elle snorted but knew better than to fight with him. He chose his time to get on top of Claire, pinning her underneath him in the darkness. He opened his eyes slowly, grinning down at Claire. Her eyes were wide open and her breathing increased.

He leaned down for a kiss because he deserved one. Elle sure didn’t.

They both would have still been locked in that place if it wasn’t for him. Claire bit a piece (a chunk) out of his lip.

“Oh Claire,” Sylar moaned. “I never knew you wanted a piece of me. In that case-.”

“Get off,” Claire hissed up at him.

Sylar went to speak when he was struck and struck hard with a bolt. He smelt burning skin and he backed off to glare. This was one of his last shirts.

“All right, break it up,” Elle said, and she pulled Claire towards her. “The honeymoon’s over.”

“Elle,” Sylar warned.

“She doesn’t want to kiss you with your coffee breath.”

“Oh thank god. I thought I was the only one who thought that,” Claire said, clinging to Elle. Sylar…could not believe his ears.

“And his stubble! At first I thought it was sexy but then it’s like kissing a roto-rooter.”

“Like half your face is being taken off, I totally agree.”

“And how exactly would you know what it was like kissing a roto-rooter?” Sylar snapped, sitting up.

The girls looked at each other and burst out laughing. He was horrified. Then angry. Very angry.

“Claire, come here. I’m not done with you.”

Elle turned over with Claire, wrapping a leg around her. Then he heard something else. Something he couldn’t have heard. “Excuse me?” Sylar stuttered out.

“Mine,” Elle said.

Oh he didn’t think so. “That was mine for the last year or so. I put a lot of footwork and effort into claiming her,” Sylar growled and pulled Claire back.

“Oh yeah. That was mine last night, and all I had to do was lay down on my back.”

“Something doesn’t count when it’s all you ever do.”

“Oh my god,” Claire intoned, as Sylar pulled her out of the bed and tucked her small body under his arm.

“This is mine,” Sylar declared.

“Finders keepers. Losers…well, go cry about it. Better yet, go hang yourself.”

“Don’t say that in front of-.” He motioned to Claire.

“I have something very important to tell you, Claire,” Elle sang out. This time Sylar shocked her, and Elle yelped. “You asshole!”

At this latest offense, Elle leapt forward and grabbed for an arm. Before she knew it, Claire was being tugged between the two.

“I’m not a chew toy, dammit!” Claire screeched as she was pulled in opposite directions, her body pulled taut as neither one gave an inch. In fact, they were gaining more. Sylar honestly didn’t mean for it to happen.

He tugged and Elle tugged, and it looked like she was winning. So he pulled harder with all the strength he had recently stolen. He fell backwards, still holding on to Claire’s arm.

One of her arms.

“Gross,” Elle moaned from behind Claire, as blood went everywhere. They were in a heap on the hard wood floor, Claire on top of Elle. Sylar moved the arm away from him as quickly as he could without acting bothered. Too much.

Claire sighed and then smirked. “Why Sylar, I never knew you wanted a piece of me.”

“He’s so pathetic that he wanted a hand-out,” Elle suggested, and the girls burst out laughing. Was it at him? He was pretty sure it was.

“He can have it,” Claire said, helping Elle up with her very pale hand.

“What will he do with it?”

“What do you think?”

They laughed again and crawled back into the bed, leaving him alone on the floor with a severed, oozing arm.

This would not do.


They conspired against him, whispering all the time.

The most he was sure was in the shower when they went in there together.

“Girl time only,” Elle had informed him, and Sylar shrugged, acting nonchalant. He didn’t need to worry. Only he was curious. Therefore, he decided to prove them wrong and not break the rules.

Changing into Elle was a necessary sacrifice. He wanted while Elle was on the couch, watching the TV like she was brain-dead. Then he snuck up stairs, having heard the shower turn on when the pipes in the wall rattled.

Claire turned around quickly to cover herself then her face relaxed into a smile as she saw who it was. Sylar reveled on the inside.

Well, he would have if he hadn’t been so distracted. Claire wasn’t unattractive. She was actually very fresh, very…ripe. He had been mocking her father that time, granted, but he wasn’t wrong. He followed the trails of water down her shapely body, and he noticed how her breasts were pale in contrast to her sun-kissed skin. He thought she might taste nice.

He only wanted her because he wanted to take her from Elle. Oh but he was Elle. So technically there was nothing wrong with this at all.

“I thought you were him,” Claire confided, closing her eyes like the thought of him caused her physical pain even when she couldn’t feel it.

“Yeah. Big, bad Sylar,” he commented, stepping into the shower. “Need a…hand?”

Claire turned around, handing him the soap. “So what should we do?”

“I can think of a lot of things. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“I meant, about Sylar,” Claire said, but she winked over her shoulder, and Sylar stepped closer, moving her blonde, wet hair aside and rubbing her shoulders. This had been a good idea. He’d do the same thing with Elle by being Claire, and wash her shoulders. Some of areas too…since they were so close.

He’d divide them and then etc. It didn’t hurt that he had some fun with it.

“Take care of him.”

“But when? I can’t stand looking at his face. I just want to kill him every time I see him, I want to beat him.”

“Tell me more.”

“Oh crap, we’re out of bubble-gum scented sham-shit!!!” Elle—the real Elle—cried out in surprise as she stepped into the shower and saw herself already there. He hadn’t heard her come up stairs with the shower and the pipes going.

There was a moment of silence, broken by the running water.


Pandemonium. Elle shocked him while he was in a full blast of water while Claire tried to struggle him with the nozzle.

“Pervert!” “Bastard!” “Monster!” “Motherfu-.”

He fled, changing back and grabbing a towel to wrap around him. Most of his skin had been burnt off, and he could only keep moving to the bedroom to get his clothes.

And they were chasing him.

In all their glory but he couldn’t really admire them at this point.

Elle shocked him in the back and he fell forward.

“Enough,” he growled, pretending like he wasn’t completely embarrassed.

“How could you do that?” Elle yelled.

“That’s sick. I feel so dirty, after I had just been in the sho-,” Claire gripped.

“How could you do that to me?” Elle demanded, and Claire got quiet. “Is there anything you won’t take?”

“Don’t be mad. It’s not as if you were supposed to know about it.”

“So…do you still…” Claire began and then shook her head. Elle turned back to her.

“All his equipment. Not for much longer.”

“But where does it go?”

“Well?” Elle demanded, hands on her hips. “Answer the girl, Gabriel. Inquiring minds and all that.”

He stared up at them. “It just changes,” he sputtered out. It made perfect sense to him.

“So no inside-out thing going on?” Elle asked, and they both stared at him. And guess what? They laughed.

Sylar had had it. He pushed them both back with telekinesis hard, pinning them against the hallway wall.

“Shut. Up.”

“Who?” Claire asked, still laughing.

“Everyone. Everyone shut up.”

“That’d include you too,” Elle sang out, and he pushed harder. They both collapsed, gasping, and he stormed away, holding his towel. He was done with this.


Sylar had taken to ignoring the both of them.

They did just the opposite. They sat on either side of him, smiling, while he watched the TV with his arms crossed, determined to be above all of this.

“That guy on the TV is cute, isn’t he, Claire?”

“Oh god. Yes.”

Sylar now couldn’t look away at the rock star on the TV, and he hadn’t even realized he had been watching it.

“Very talented. Special, don’t you say?”

“It’s not that special. He’s probably lip-syncing.”

“I bet you couldn’t do it,” Elle said, leaning against him.

“How much do you want to bet?” Claire asked, propping an arm on Sylar’s shoulder. Sylar glared down at her, and she just beamed up at him. She had gotten way too comfortable for his liking. He’d do something about this when the humiliation went away.

“Seems like you know something I…do.”


Sylar sighed. “Okay. I’ll bite. What is it?”

“Well, Claire was telling me how you used to sing once, you know, when she read your file.”

He went slack-jawed. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been in that file. His mother had made him do it, and now, he was hearing about it years later, in a life he had never planned for. It wasn’t fair.

“So, choir boy, how about it?” Elle cooed, intertwining her fingers into his.


“I think it’ll show another side of you to Claire.”

“I think the shower incident has set me for the rest of my life on that issue. And that carries some weight with me.”

He got up to retreat into the kitchen, and still, they both followed him, emboldened by each other’s presence.

“Push me anymore, and I’ll decapitate you both.”

“Touchy-touchy,” Claire said, and Elle put an arm around her, proud of her protégée.


Sylar had made up his mind. He was going to kill them both.

He was going to sleep, and then he was going to kill them in the morning. He lay there, glaring at the ceiling and angrier than he had ever been in his life. He had a feeling they were going to giggle about it, too.

And here they come, best friends for life. Of which they had six hours left.

They climbed into the bed with him, watching him, and he sighed.

“Are you still mad?” Elle asked, putting a hand on his chest.

He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, he’s still pouting,” Claire observed, propping herself up on her elbow.

“I was just trying to show another side of you, is all.”

“There isn’t one,” Sylar growled out. Claire nodded in agreement.

“Oh for—here, watch this,” Elle said to Claire, and to Sylar’s surprise, she trapped his face with her hands and kissed him deeply. She drew back, satisfied, and turned his face towards Claire. “See the look.”

Claire frowned, and Sylar was still too caught up with what had just happened to take notice of her intrigued expression.

“You have to try it for yourself. Go on. It won’t kill you.”

“That’s the only saving grace,” Claire muttered but—to Sylar’s great surprise—she kissed him too. She pulled back and studied him while he gaped at her, frozen. “…I see it. Huh.”

“What?” he demanded, snapping out of it, looking between the two of them.

The girls simply shared a look.


And they shared much more than that.

Sylar knew they were planning something against him. It was only a matter of time.

But it didn’t mean he could have fun while he waited for them to part company.

He'd get around to it. Someday.

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