If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: DRUG PUSHING What luck! You've found a bottle of medication...only, oh, it looks like it's a prescription for one of the other people trapped here with you. You have a lot of power in your hands now: you could do the right thing and give it back without a fight, demand a worthy trade to see how badly they want it, or auction it off to the highest bidder. They're not the only ones who could use a painkiller or an antidepressant, after all. If you don't need it for yourself, you're sure to be able to fetch a high price (or bank some high gratitude points) for it from someone.
TWO: CHECK YOUR RECEIPTS After a long day of traveling, you reach into your bag to scrounge up some dinner but you find that all of your food has gone bad. Everything, including the rations you stocked up on just yesterday, is covered in a thick layer of mold. Even the packaged nonperishables are somehow spoiled. Your whole backpack reeks of rot, and nothing edible has been spared. Maybe you can restock tomorrow, but what if you're not the only one whose food has been tainted? And what about the meal you had for lunch just hours ago? Your stomach turns. You'd better take to the network to get to the bottom of this
Action Prompts
THREE: WRITING ON THE WALL You've just settled into a building for the night with your traveling companion when you notice a message left somewhere on one of the walls. It's signed by a username you don't recall ever seeing before. It tells you discoveries and facts about the town you don't think are really real or should be followed. Tells you that they're heading in a direction they're convinced has the exit, and urge you to follow their lead. One of you thinks it's worth consideration. After all, why would anyone leave a message like this if they didn't mean it? But there are risks involved in chasing the assertions. Do you have the resources left to try?
FOUR: CORPSE PARTY Just before lockdown, you and your traveling companion are about to seek shelter in the nearest building when you spot a huddled figure nearly buried in the snow. When you get a little closer, you see that it's a person wrapped tightly in a blanket. Neither of you recognizes them, but you can't be sure; the blanket covers their face. They seem to have succumbed to the elements, but it looks like they're still breathing! You manage to drag them into the building with you with seconds to spare. Good job, you've saved somebody's life! But, as you pull apart the blankets to check on your new companion, you realize that they're not a "somebody" at all... And you're locked in with it until morning.
Someone had clearly been through this house with a fine-toothed comb already. It was as bare-bones as it could be. Sylar just hoped they'd get lucky with the remaining couple of rooms.
If Sylar had his telekinesis, he'd be ripping up the floorboards to make a fire. He'd reduce that chair to kindling. He'd be doing so much better than he was now, reliant on the son of a man he hated and stuck in this useless persona. His jaw clenched as he stared at the cushion-less chair.
"Only one way to find out," he replied, turning immediately and heading towards what he hoped was a kitchen. And it was- but everything in it was broken. Sylar rubbed at his temples to ease the headache that was forming, even as he walked over to the stove. The door wouldn't even open. Great. Sylar let out a long-suffering sigh that was honestly more pitiful than anything he'd ever put together for his 'Zane' creation.
Maybe this was for the best. What could they do even if they found a working stove? He didn't have a lighter. He didn't have anything at all to start a fire. Not even two dry sticks. There was bound to be furniture polish on the wood anyway. Sealants. It would be difficult to get it to ignite without actual fire.
At the sound of Zane's sigh, Mohinder pressed his hand lightly against the back of a familiar jacket between Zane's shoulder blades.
"Let's just get to sleep. There should be blankets upstsirs in one of the bedrooms." At least Mohinder was a warm body if nothing further than that but an annoyance. He turned away to head out of the kitchen only to find the door that they had come through was shut and stuck. The handle jiggled fine so it couldn't be locked but even throwing his shoulder against the door didn't make it budge. "Zane?"
Oh, no no no. A room full of brokenness was exactly the room Sylar didn't want to be in- so of course they were locked in. When Mohinder called for Zane, he rushed toward the door to add his weight to it. "It doesn't even lock," he complained. But no, it was shut tight, and their efforts were for nothing.
Eventually Sylar turned around with his back to the door and slid down it into a miserable puddle on the floor. It felt like it was even colder down here.
Mohinder hadn’t officially started to panic until he watched Zane melt onto the floor and refreeze. He pulled at the door (the hinges shouldn’t allow for pulling but he was out of options) and gave it a kick to see if that would lodge it but…no. Nothing. Damn it. They couldn’t get stuck here. Mohinder had seen what happened to people that stayed in one place. And they only had food enough for two days. Maybe.
He thought about making a distress call, but who could come for them in the middle of the night? No one was the answer.
Since hot air rose and cold air was heavier, it was always going to be colder on the floor. It didn’t help that there wasn’t any insulation under the tile either. Mohinder huffed slightly and then crouched beside Zane so that he was touching him. The Indian weighed next to nothing, had not an ounce of fat on his body, and was freezing. He took whatever he could get what it came to warmth. And that included the American.
“It’s fine. It’s all right. In the morning, if we can’t get out, we’ll have someone come to get us.”
Sylar readily leaned up against Mohinder, hopeful that it would generate even a little more warmth. He wasn't having to act the part anymore of a useless, scared man, he realized. That really rubbed him the wrong way. It was all right for Mohinder to see a mask he'd put up for the pure purpose of manipulating the scientist. But he sure didn't want Mohinder to see him really being so pitiful.
So Sylar replied to the man with a low chuckle. He couldn't keep it up anymore- besides, if he was going to be so miserable, everyone else might as well be too. "You have no idea how not all right it is, Mohinder. I can't fix-" He gestured around the whole room. "-any of this."
The lower half of his face hidden in his collar, chin against his chest, Mohinder watched Zane out of the corner of his eye. He was sympathic, of course he was, and his smile, though hidden, coated his eyes. He had the most expressive face sometimes, maddening as it might be.
"It's not your job to fix this. We're here under unfortunate circumstances. It's no one's fault." You don't just fall asleep in a motel on the way to Montana and wake up in Alaska in a town surrounded by snow walls. Mohinder wasn't sure what brought them here but he was certain that Zane had absolutely nothing to do with it. "Please don't blame yourself. We haven't run into an anomaly yet. We're safe. We have food. And we have each other. That's more than many can say."
"You don't understand," Sylar replied. Of course, there was no way Mohinder could have understood what he'd meant. "I've always been good at fixing things. Anything I could get my hands on. Appliances. Watches. ...People."
The corner of his mouth twitched up and he looked expectantly at Mohinder. Was that enough, or did Mohinder need more hints?
It should have been all warning lights for Mohinder, but the Indian wasn’t known for letting his genius bleed into common sense areas. In fact, he was fairly useless when it came to spotting dangerous situations as they were and just plowed right through them until his fight or flight mechanism decided to flip and coin and decide whether he ought to run as fast as his long legs could go or try to bludgeon people with statuary despite their obvious possession of a gun.
He had truly terribly instincts, but he knew that something was wrong. He leaned away from Zane to really look at him. “Watches?” What a strange thing to say. Mohinder didn’t have a few items in his knowledge to put the rest together. For instance, he’d never actually looked into who lived in the flat he and Eden had broken into after finding the address for Sylar in his father’s notebook. Why should he when he assumed that ‘Sylar’ was the actual name of the person? He’d not spent time listening to all of the research tapes either and so had no idea that Sylar was Gabriel Gray and Gabriel Gray happened to be a watch repairman.
It still gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.
“Zane, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at. Were you some sort of therapist before your abilities manifested?” For a researcher, Mohinder was terrible at actually researching.
Sylar's smirk only grew at Mohinder's confusion. He really should've done this ages ago. It was letting him almost forget how cold he was. "Not quite. I was a watchmaker." He leaned his head back against the door, looking more relaxed than was even remotely possible right now. "I'm not sure when the ability started up, honestly. It was always so useful for telling me just what I needed to do to get everything working perfectly."
He held his hand out in front of him, half-pointing at the stove. It seemed like the gesture should mean something, but he put his hand back down before he said anything else. "Now I just can tell it's all wrong, but I can't do anything about it. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"
Mohinder took a moment to scratch at his scalp, through the curls, with a mitten covered hand. It would have been cuter if he was ten, honestly. He had sat himself back on his heels, knees tucked under him, and watched Zane was a strange trepidation. It didn’t occur to him to think that Zane Taylor was actually Sylar. Sylar was telekinetic. He killed people, but Mohinder didn’t know why or how other than that he tended to focus on others with abilities. That he absorbed them was a mystery to the Indian. As was patient zero’s original power.
Sylar boasted on the tapes he had heard…but never really about what he could actually do.
And that put Mohinder at a disadvantage right now.
Warily, he glanced the way that Zane was pointing. “I thought you disrupted the cohesive bond between molecules,” he said, trying to feel this out carefully. “Is it…is it more that your ability allowed you to understand how metal objects could stay formed together and you…you disrupted that?” They’d spoken of so many things during their trip together and their time here in Norfinbury too.
But this hadn’t… This was so strange.
Mohinder had a distinct impression that he was missing something important.
“I’m sure it made understanding hos watches fit together…easier…”
Sylar snorted with laughter, because- really, Mohinder? Really. Did he actually know nothing about the man he'd been warning people about? It sort of seemed like it.
The idea that Zane's 'melting' power could somehow help with watches was sort of hilarious, too. "No, not that one. My original ability. Chandra was too blind to see it. He didn't think I had anything until the telekinesis popped up. I wonder if you would've noticed it before I ended up doing something desperate." His tone seemed to say 'probably not', but it was actually a legitimate question. Mohinder was oblivious to a lot of things, but abilities was not one of them.
Zane's mannerisms had faded completely by now, not that it was all that easy to tell with them huddled up the way they were. The nervous tics were gone, the hesitant voice. Sylar didn't work to be any more menacing than he felt right now, but he was definitely not acting any longer.
There were so many emotions currently running through Mohinder that several seemed to overlap upon his face at once. That he suddenly jerked away was inevitable. The fear, the anger, the hatred, those were all expected too. But the sadness was something else. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when the man he was trapped inside the kitchen with had been a friend and not the man that killed his father.
“Sylar.”
There was just something about the way Mohinder said his chosen name that could leave a thrill running through a listener. Large eyes had grown wider as Mohinder stood somewhere in the middle of the room, knees bent and eyes locked upon the man still seated upon the floor.
“You were-- You were going to use me to find people like you to kill?” That might have been a whine at first, but it turned steadily angrier and very much a ‘how dare you’ quality to it. Whatever shaking there was to his voice was strictly due to the cold.
Aha! There it was. Sylar's face lit up as Mohinder looked horrified and mad and sad. There, he'd accomplished something. It might've been setting fire to his only friendship in this place, but it was at least something he chose.
He responded to Mohinder's angry whine with a shrug. "Ever since your dear old Dad set me on that path, I've been following it. Nothing's ever good enough for that guy, I'm sure you've noticed," he said conversationally. "You had all of Chandra's stuff, so..." It was only natural that it happened this way.
Anger over took all else, which was not exactly healthy considering that there was nothing to beat Sylar to death with here and even if there was, he outweighed him by enough to make the match, even armed, extremely uneven. “You have not right to talk about him!” It didn’t matter how accurate Sylar was about the man. He knew him for what? Weeks? If that?
Mohinder didn’t know that either but they weren’t going to commiserate about how intolerably hard it was to please the man when Sylar had been the one to down him.
“And you had no right lying to me-- I will never help you. I will never allow you to kill another person for as long as I can help it!” All of these were lofty goals for the Indian who was just as stuck as Sylar.
No. More so. His backpack with his tablet was right by Sylar’s foot.
"Yeah, well," Sylar said, counteracting Mohinder's dramatics with a flat tone. He still hadn't gotten up from his spot on the floor. "All that's out the window now, isn't it?" He couldn't take anyone's abilities, and no one had any abilities worth taking, anyway. There was no reason to kill anyone, unless Mohinder got them that desperate for blankets.
Was it weird that Sylar still expected to travel together after this?
He noticed the Mohinder eyeing the backpack, and very graciously scooted his foot away from it. "Go ahead. I'll just keep playing Zane on the network. You might've noticed I'm pretty good at fooling people. It'd be easy to say you're suffering from- what was it, MN poisoning?"
Mohinder knew it was true. In a flash of horror, he recalled seeing it before. Paranoia on the network was either met with lynch mobs, or worse…people telling the poster that they were going mad and to move to a different location as quickly as possible. Sylar could play up meek so very well. He was attractive and soft spoken and people already liked him. Mohinder ignored the bag and backed up against the wall.
The moment dawn hit, he’d leave. There was absolutely no way that he could stay with Sylar, and if the other followed him-- Well, Mohinder hoped it didn’t come to that. They’d passed someone that afternoon moving in the opposite direction but they couldn’t have gone too far.
Into his knees and the arms pooled above them, Mohinder breathed hard. He was so cold. He was so angry. He was so afraid, always so afraid. “Play whomever you like. Just stay away from me.”
He wasn't quite sure how he could get revenge on Sylar like this. Not yet. Perhaps he'd find something soon enough. It was better the other move away from him quickly.
"Aw, come on," he said, feigning offense. "Don't pout. Not already. We've got several hours in here, you've got time to work up to it."
Sylar laughed. There was something of a manic tinge to it. "I mean, honestly, I thought you'd be happy. All my powers are gone- ah. Not all of them." He reached out and put his hand face down towards the ground. A perfect cube of ice appeared, about two inches long on each side. "Now isn't that a kick in the pants? I'd never thought anything would be more useless than the melting."
"You're a monster." Mohinder didn't hold back the venom, but he also couldn't hold back the agony of this. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, losing someone that had been a friend or the fact that he had been duped so fully.
If he had only known about Eden, maybe this would have been easier to deal with. After all, Sylar wasn't the first person to lie to him and use him to get what he wanted. Sylar hadn't had a Papa Suresh story and a casserole. He had a scared recluse who opens up to a kindly, understanding scientist just trying to help story.
Both were pretty bad. Both hooked Mohinder.
But this one really was gutting him.
As interesting as an ice making ability was (that cube looked so perfect!) Mohinder wasn't going to be tempted to examine all of that.
"I try not to judge the validity of life but I can find no reason for you to continue with yours."
It would be one thing if the ice creation protected him from the cold. But it sure didn't, and who wanted more ice around here?
Sylar was unfazed by the insults, and if Mohinder was unhappy with the chattiness, then it was just going to continue. Now it was Sylar's turn to be obnoxious. "Another plus side, there. I'll probably die at least a few times while I'm here, if the network's any indication. Even if I'll be back later. Hey, that's almost like the crummiest regeneration ever." He tilted his head to the side, and his chin disappeared behind the collar of his coat. "That's what I've been really looking for, by the way."
He changed to his terrible Texan accent for emphasis. "Found a cheerleader down in Texas that'd do real nicely, but her daddy caught me before I caught her."
He couldn't plug his ears but he could try not to listen. He knew he was being baited. He wasn't sure why Sylar picked now of all times to come out to him but he had and they were completely stuck. Worse, not only were they stuck, but all they had was one blanket between them and a cold, hard floor to sleep on. This was going to be the worst night of his life too. He hugged his legs tighter to his chest and covered his face entirely with his arms.
That didn't make the other stop though. No it made it worse.
"I don't care about your mistakes!" he finally shouted, getting back to his feet because he was shivering far too badly to stay seated alone. "It doesn't matter anymore. You're here. You'll be alone. You'll never hurt anyone again!"
Maybe that was premature to say.
Mohinder wasn't going anywhere tonight, after all. He wandered to the stove and back again.
"Why did you tell me-- Its been weeks." He was so hurt. It was in his voice.
Sylar had been ready to just let the insults slide off of him again, but there was something about them that stuck this time. Maybe it was the fact that a time traveler had told him something strikingly similar- that he'd die alone- and he'd been more unsettled by the prediction than he'd like to admit. Whatever it was, it made his eyes narrow and shine dangerously.
And then Mohinder had to ask annoying questions along with it. Sylar looked decidedly bored with the teasing he'd been enjoying just moments before. "What, and keep it up all night? Here?" The way he said it, he thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. "No, thank you."
Tonight was the worst possible of all nights. There was the reminder of death outside the door, and cold, certain death just beyond that. In here was betrayal and Mohinder found his hurt turning towards anger. It turned his blood black as he leaned into the chilled cradle of a junction of walls. He could feel the chill against his shoulders.
It was the duty of a son to avenge the father. It was Mohinder's cultural and social duty to take revenge.
He had been nursing this thought through his own pain but his mind kept coming back to it. He wasn't a savage. He didn't have physical strength. There were no weapons here--
Or maybe there were?
Mohinder strode stiffly to the utensil drawers and yanked them open. He didn't care if Sylar guessed what he was looking for. Usually, there was little to nothing to be found in these homes. A candle, some toothpaste...
He was honestly surprised to find a knife in the first drawer he had opened, laying in the cold dust.
The way Mohinder paused when he opened that drawer made Sylar curious. "Ooh, what'd you find?" he asked, as if he hadn't just revealed that he was Mohinder's mortal enemy.
Sylar stiffly rose back up to a standing position, and let out a nasty laugh when he saw the glint of metal. "Now, just what're you gonna do with that? Kill me?" He tilted his head to the side, staring at Mohinder as if he were a small child. "I'll come back. And meanwhile, I get to be dead and you get to share a room with another dead body." He opened his arms wide, even if that fought against every instinct for warmth he had right now. "Sounds like a plan to me. Go ahead, Mohinder. Make yourself a murderer."
It was a struggle. Mohinder knew what he had to do and Sylar's flippant attitude and ability to completely disarm him at every turn just made him more angry. Just keep talking, he thought hopefully to himself. He could really do this if Sylar fueled him enough--
"You might not come back," Mohinder said, every word a white puff of smoke. "You might be gone forever. No one would even mourn you."
He picked up the knife. It was heavier than he had imagined. Why couldn't it have been a gun?
Sylar put his arms back down in an exaggerated shrug. "And I might get sent back 'home', where your useful little laptop is, and where you won't be," he replied. His grin was gone, and his eyes were sharp and challenging. Would this caring young son actually go through with something as dark as murder? Sylar doubted it.
"No one knows how any of this works. And even if we had some sort of proof, it could all be a lie- because the machines in our systems are making us hallucinate. Right? Maybe they've just convinced me I'm Sylar, and I've never done any of those things. We don't know." He looked to the side, realizing that got a bit off track. "So while you're freezing your ass off here, I could be well on my way to- what was his name? Dale? That's who we were headed to first, right?"
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snowblindmemes2016-08-14 08:47 pm
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If Sylar had his telekinesis, he'd be ripping up the floorboards to make a fire. He'd reduce that chair to kindling. He'd be doing so much better than he was now, reliant on the son of a man he hated and stuck in this useless persona. His jaw clenched as he stared at the cushion-less chair.
"Only one way to find out," he replied, turning immediately and heading towards what he hoped was a kitchen. And it was- but everything in it was broken. Sylar rubbed at his temples to ease the headache that was forming, even as he walked over to the stove. The door wouldn't even open. Great. Sylar let out a long-suffering sigh that was honestly more pitiful than anything he'd ever put together for his 'Zane' creation.
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At the sound of Zane's sigh, Mohinder pressed his hand lightly against the back of a familiar jacket between Zane's shoulder blades.
"Let's just get to sleep. There should be blankets upstsirs in one of the bedrooms." At least Mohinder was a warm body if nothing further than that but an annoyance. He turned away to head out of the kitchen only to find the door that they had come through was shut and stuck. The handle jiggled fine so it couldn't be locked but even throwing his shoulder against the door didn't make it budge. "Zane?"
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Eventually Sylar turned around with his back to the door and slid down it into a miserable puddle on the floor. It felt like it was even colder down here.
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Mohinder hadn’t officially started to panic until he watched Zane melt onto the floor and refreeze. He pulled at the door (the hinges shouldn’t allow for pulling but he was out of options) and gave it a kick to see if that would lodge it but…no. Nothing. Damn it. They couldn’t get stuck here. Mohinder had seen what happened to people that stayed in one place. And they only had food enough for two days. Maybe.
He thought about making a distress call, but who could come for them in the middle of the night? No one was the answer.
Since hot air rose and cold air was heavier, it was always going to be colder on the floor. It didn’t help that there wasn’t any insulation under the tile either. Mohinder huffed slightly and then crouched beside Zane so that he was touching him. The Indian weighed next to nothing, had not an ounce of fat on his body, and was freezing. He took whatever he could get what it came to warmth. And that included the American.
“It’s fine. It’s all right. In the morning, if we can’t get out, we’ll have someone come to get us.”
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So Sylar replied to the man with a low chuckle. He couldn't keep it up anymore- besides, if he was going to be so miserable, everyone else might as well be too. "You have no idea how not all right it is, Mohinder. I can't fix-" He gestured around the whole room. "-any of this."
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"It's not your job to fix this. We're here under unfortunate circumstances. It's no one's fault." You don't just fall asleep in a motel on the way to Montana and wake up in Alaska in a town surrounded by snow walls. Mohinder wasn't sure what brought them here but he was certain that Zane had absolutely nothing to do with it. "Please don't blame yourself. We haven't run into an anomaly yet. We're safe. We have food. And we have each other. That's more than many can say."
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The corner of his mouth twitched up and he looked expectantly at Mohinder. Was that enough, or did Mohinder need more hints?
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It should have been all warning lights for Mohinder, but the Indian wasn’t known for letting his genius bleed into common sense areas. In fact, he was fairly useless when it came to spotting dangerous situations as they were and just plowed right through them until his fight or flight mechanism decided to flip and coin and decide whether he ought to run as fast as his long legs could go or try to bludgeon people with statuary despite their obvious possession of a gun.
He had truly terribly instincts, but he knew that something was wrong. He leaned away from Zane to really look at him. “Watches?” What a strange thing to say. Mohinder didn’t have a few items in his knowledge to put the rest together. For instance, he’d never actually looked into who lived in the flat he and Eden had broken into after finding the address for Sylar in his father’s notebook. Why should he when he assumed that ‘Sylar’ was the actual name of the person? He’d not spent time listening to all of the research tapes either and so had no idea that Sylar was Gabriel Gray and Gabriel Gray happened to be a watch repairman.
It still gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.
“Zane, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at. Were you some sort of therapist before your abilities manifested?” For a researcher, Mohinder was terrible at actually researching.
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He held his hand out in front of him, half-pointing at the stove. It seemed like the gesture should mean something, but he put his hand back down before he said anything else. "Now I just can tell it's all wrong, but I can't do anything about it. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"
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Sylar boasted on the tapes he had heard…but never really about what he could actually do.
And that put Mohinder at a disadvantage right now.
Warily, he glanced the way that Zane was pointing. “I thought you disrupted the cohesive bond between molecules,” he said, trying to feel this out carefully. “Is it…is it more that your ability allowed you to understand how metal objects could stay formed together and you…you disrupted that?” They’d spoken of so many things during their trip together and their time here in Norfinbury too.
But this hadn’t… This was so strange.
Mohinder had a distinct impression that he was missing something important.
“I’m sure it made understanding hos watches fit together…easier…”
no subject
The idea that Zane's 'melting' power could somehow help with watches was sort of hilarious, too. "No, not that one. My original ability. Chandra was too blind to see it. He didn't think I had anything until the telekinesis popped up. I wonder if you would've noticed it before I ended up doing something desperate." His tone seemed to say 'probably not', but it was actually a legitimate question. Mohinder was oblivious to a lot of things, but abilities was not one of them.
Zane's mannerisms had faded completely by now, not that it was all that easy to tell with them huddled up the way they were. The nervous tics were gone, the hesitant voice. Sylar didn't work to be any more menacing than he felt right now, but he was definitely not acting any longer.
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There were so many emotions currently running through Mohinder that several seemed to overlap upon his face at once. That he suddenly jerked away was inevitable. The fear, the anger, the hatred, those were all expected too. But the sadness was something else. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when the man he was trapped inside the kitchen with had been a friend and not the man that killed his father.
“Sylar.”
There was just something about the way Mohinder said his chosen name that could leave a thrill running through a listener. Large eyes had grown wider as Mohinder stood somewhere in the middle of the room, knees bent and eyes locked upon the man still seated upon the floor.
“You were-- You were going to use me to find people like you to kill?” That might have been a whine at first, but it turned steadily angrier and very much a ‘how dare you’ quality to it. Whatever shaking there was to his voice was strictly due to the cold.
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He responded to Mohinder's angry whine with a shrug. "Ever since your dear old Dad set me on that path, I've been following it. Nothing's ever good enough for that guy, I'm sure you've noticed," he said conversationally. "You had all of Chandra's stuff, so..." It was only natural that it happened this way.
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Anger over took all else, which was not exactly healthy considering that there was nothing to beat Sylar to death with here and even if there was, he outweighed him by enough to make the match, even armed, extremely uneven. “You have not right to talk about him!” It didn’t matter how accurate Sylar was about the man. He knew him for what? Weeks? If that?
Mohinder didn’t know that either but they weren’t going to commiserate about how intolerably hard it was to please the man when Sylar had been the one to down him.
“And you had no right lying to me-- I will never help you. I will never allow you to kill another person for as long as I can help it!” All of these were lofty goals for the Indian who was just as stuck as Sylar.
No. More so. His backpack with his tablet was right by Sylar’s foot.
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Was it weird that Sylar still expected to travel together after this?
He noticed the Mohinder eyeing the backpack, and very graciously scooted his foot away from it. "Go ahead. I'll just keep playing Zane on the network. You might've noticed I'm pretty good at fooling people. It'd be easy to say you're suffering from- what was it, MN poisoning?"
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Mohinder knew it was true. In a flash of horror, he recalled seeing it before. Paranoia on the network was either met with lynch mobs, or worse…people telling the poster that they were going mad and to move to a different location as quickly as possible. Sylar could play up meek so very well. He was attractive and soft spoken and people already liked him. Mohinder ignored the bag and backed up against the wall.
The moment dawn hit, he’d leave. There was absolutely no way that he could stay with Sylar, and if the other followed him-- Well, Mohinder hoped it didn’t come to that. They’d passed someone that afternoon moving in the opposite direction but they couldn’t have gone too far.
Into his knees and the arms pooled above them, Mohinder breathed hard. He was so cold. He was so angry. He was so afraid, always so afraid. “Play whomever you like. Just stay away from me.”
He wasn't quite sure how he could get revenge on Sylar like this. Not yet. Perhaps he'd find something soon enough. It was better the other move away from him quickly.
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Sylar laughed. There was something of a manic tinge to it. "I mean, honestly, I thought you'd be happy. All my powers are gone- ah. Not all of them." He reached out and put his hand face down towards the ground. A perfect cube of ice appeared, about two inches long on each side. "Now isn't that a kick in the pants? I'd never thought anything would be more useless than the melting."
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"You're a monster." Mohinder didn't hold back the venom, but he also couldn't hold back the agony of this. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, losing someone that had been a friend or the fact that he had been duped so fully.
If he had only known about Eden, maybe this would have been easier to deal with. After all, Sylar wasn't the first person to lie to him and use him to get what he wanted. Sylar hadn't had a Papa Suresh story and a casserole. He had a scared recluse who opens up to a kindly, understanding scientist just trying to help story.
Both were pretty bad. Both hooked Mohinder.
But this one really was gutting him.
As interesting as an ice making ability was (that cube looked so perfect!) Mohinder wasn't going to be tempted to examine all of that.
"I try not to judge the validity of life but I can find no reason for you to continue with yours."
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Sylar was unfazed by the insults, and if Mohinder was unhappy with the chattiness, then it was just going to continue. Now it was Sylar's turn to be obnoxious. "Another plus side, there. I'll probably die at least a few times while I'm here, if the network's any indication. Even if I'll be back later. Hey, that's almost like the crummiest regeneration ever." He tilted his head to the side, and his chin disappeared behind the collar of his coat. "That's what I've been really looking for, by the way."
He changed to his terrible Texan accent for emphasis. "Found a cheerleader down in Texas that'd do real nicely, but her daddy caught me before I caught her."
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He couldn't plug his ears but he could try not to listen. He knew he was being baited. He wasn't sure why Sylar picked now of all times to come out to him but he had and they were completely stuck. Worse, not only were they stuck, but all they had was one blanket between them and a cold, hard floor to sleep on. This was going to be the worst night of his life too. He hugged his legs tighter to his chest and covered his face entirely with his arms.
That didn't make the other stop though. No it made it worse.
"I don't care about your mistakes!" he finally shouted, getting back to his feet because he was shivering far too badly to stay seated alone. "It doesn't matter anymore. You're here. You'll be alone. You'll never hurt anyone again!"
Maybe that was premature to say.
Mohinder wasn't going anywhere tonight, after all. He wandered to the stove and back again.
"Why did you tell me-- Its been weeks." He was so hurt. It was in his voice.
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And then Mohinder had to ask annoying questions along with it. Sylar looked decidedly bored with the teasing he'd been enjoying just moments before. "What, and keep it up all night? Here?" The way he said it, he thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. "No, thank you."
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Tonight was the worst possible of all nights. There was the reminder of death outside the door, and cold, certain death just beyond that. In here was betrayal and Mohinder found his hurt turning towards anger. It turned his blood black as he leaned into the chilled cradle of a junction of walls. He could feel the chill against his shoulders.
It was the duty of a son to avenge the father. It was Mohinder's cultural and social duty to take revenge.
He had been nursing this thought through his own pain but his mind kept coming back to it. He wasn't a savage. He didn't have physical strength. There were no weapons here--
Or maybe there were?
Mohinder strode stiffly to the utensil drawers and yanked them open. He didn't care if Sylar guessed what he was looking for. Usually, there was little to nothing to be found in these homes. A candle, some toothpaste...
He was honestly surprised to find a knife in the first drawer he had opened, laying in the cold dust.
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Sylar stiffly rose back up to a standing position, and let out a nasty laugh when he saw the glint of metal. "Now, just what're you gonna do with that? Kill me?" He tilted his head to the side, staring at Mohinder as if he were a small child. "I'll come back. And meanwhile, I get to be dead and you get to share a room with another dead body." He opened his arms wide, even if that fought against every instinct for warmth he had right now. "Sounds like a plan to me. Go ahead, Mohinder. Make yourself a murderer."
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It was a struggle. Mohinder knew what he had to do and Sylar's flippant attitude and ability to completely disarm him at every turn just made him more angry. Just keep talking, he thought hopefully to himself. He could really do this if Sylar fueled him enough--
"You might not come back," Mohinder said, every word a white puff of smoke. "You might be gone forever. No one would even mourn you."
He picked up the knife. It was heavier than he had imagined. Why couldn't it have been a gun?
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"No one knows how any of this works. And even if we had some sort of proof, it could all be a lie- because the machines in our systems are making us hallucinate. Right? Maybe they've just convinced me I'm Sylar, and I've never done any of those things. We don't know." He looked to the side, realizing that got a bit off track. "So while you're freezing your ass off here, I could be well on my way to- what was his name? Dale? That's who we were headed to first, right?"
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