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He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row


“Desolation Row” – Bob Dylan






He’s in a nondescript hotel room, in a nondescript town, and the blood of a nondescript prostitute—Mary, she’d said, my name is Mary, and he’d had to hold back a laugh—is drying on the threadbare rug.

He washes his hands in the dingy bathroom sink. On the vanity, a silver ring catches his eye. He picks it up, turns it between his fingers, holds it in his palm. Then he’s not in the room anymore.

It’s yesterday. He’s on the street a few blocks from here. He sees the man—lanky, unremarkable, wearing crumpled business clothes—who’d given Mary the ring.

The ring had belonged to the man’s wife; she’ run off, taken the kids, left the ring.

It was more than enough payment for what he’d wanted from Mary. What he wanted to do to her. He’d put her on her knees. Called her by his wife’s name. Slapped her. Then bent her over the mean wooden dresser and fucked her, unprotected, until she bit her lip—breaking the skin—and begged him to stop.

Sylar shudders, blinks his eyes open and is greeted with his own reflection in a filthy mirror. He cracks the vertebrae in his neck to release the tension that had taken him with the sudden onset of the vision. This new ability would take a little getting used to.

He steps out of the bathroom, looks once at the half-clothed form on the bed. The pillow, where the ruin of her head lays, is soaked in blood. But Mary looks…at peace.

He drapes her discarded shirt over her—covering her naked torso and the hand-shaped bruises where yesterday’s John had gripped her around her waist—before flicking off the light and shutting the door behind him as he walks out into the night.



The Meme:

Choose a subject and put your entire music collection on shuffle, hit play, and write. Write for as long as each song plays and move on to a different writing when the song switches (even if it's mid-sentence). Go for 5-10 songs.

Date: 2010-08-30 02:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] angary.livejournal.com
Woah, this is dark! I like it. It really seems like you got Sylar's perspective here; he's cold, clinical, and observing. I like that he feels a slight bit of emotion, but then pushes it aside and tells himself he has to get used to the ability. It'd be just like Sylar to think that way. Aww, but poor Mary! :(

Very evocative, intense, and again, dark in a really good way. Great job!

Date: 2010-08-30 06:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ilcuoreardendo.livejournal.com
Yes, poor Mary. :\ Too often, I bring in characters just to murder them. (I think the few who've survived are actually starting to warn the newbies...)

It really seems like you got Sylar's perspective here; he's cold, clinical, and observing. I like that he feels a slight bit of emotion, but then pushes it aside and tells himself he has to get used to the ability.

Thank you; I was surprised and pleased at how well the voice came out in such a short time (the length of a song).

I think Sylar is not a total sociopath, but his sociopathic tendencies are many and virulent. Feeling guilt and sympathy, even empathy, is possible but those traits are easily brushed aside in favor of furthering his goal(s).

But that just makes him more fun to play with... ^_^

Date: 2010-09-03 03:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] game-byrd.livejournal.com
Neat little ficlet! Thanks for writing. I especially liked the part where Sylar popped his neck, giving the impression that the scene had had an impact on him, even if he didn't emote it any other way. It says a lot about his control.

Date: 2010-09-04 05:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ilcuoreardendo.livejournal.com
Thank you for commenting. :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Date: 2011-04-27 04:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] isarn.livejournal.com
Really, really liked it.

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