snowblindrpg | [log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

Sylar laughs at House's protest, and sounds like- the running is working? Except the crackling noise and footsteps seem to be getting farther away, then closer, then to the right? And now about the same distance one would expect. If either of them looks back, they'll see Sylar occasionally moving so fast he's practically teleporting, sometimes jittering in place like a messed-up videotape.

He sees that Will is protecting House. That's fine, he wants Will first. And hey, maybe if they're both touching each other he can connect the circuit through both of them at once. He just needs to actually make it there....

They're close to the shack when he zips right next to Will. Wasting no time, he reaches out and grasps, and every nerve of Will's will feel like it's on fire. And perhaps it's not even noticeable to a man like Will, the way some thought patterns turn over from pain to something that's not quite himself. The intense loneliness, the idea to force people to recognize him, to realize that his existence is just as valid as the 'real' people, the thought that maybe he can connect them all anyway and they can just...stay together like that...

It's not Will's thoughts, but it's what he's thinking- or at least part of what he's thinking. To House, it looks like Sylar appeared and disappeared. But some sparks remain on Will, jumping from ear to shoulder, from finger to finger, as if he's collecting a hell of a lot of static charges.

House is looking back at just the right moment to see Sylar reaching for Will. "No!"

It's too late, though. Sylar... disappears. House stumbles to a halt, turning to Will, uncertain what just happened. That asshole sure as hell didn't just stop. He's... what?

Sparks shoot from Will's body.

"Fuck." One word, low. House drags his pack off his shoulders and goes for the rubber gloves he's been carrying forever. It's likely not going to be enough, but what else can he do? "Hold still." Hold still while he takes his bloodstained cane and tries to tap Will with it and... somehow use the conduction to force Sylar out of him?

How the hell are anomalies supposed to work?!

It was painful, though he did little more than grunt as the electricity jumped across abused nerves. One of his last, truly coherent thoughts was gratitude that Sylar had gone for him first and the hope that House did the smart thing and kept running.

For other people the sense of having something alien in their mind, thoughts that didn't feel like their own, would be disorienting. But this was Will's never ending reality and he was very experienced at unwinding what was himself and what was other.

In other circumstances, there would have been some sympathy for the sheer weight of the loneliness he felt. He knew what that deep desire to be understood, to be seen and validated, felt like. But Sylar had attacked, and House was probably being an idiot and trying to stay close.

For that brief period, before Sylar disappeared, Will drove back along the lines that connected them. He pulled on darkness cultivated over years of taking it on board, twisted it like an energy of his own and then focused it through the lens of Hannibal's dangerous psychological games.

'Force people, like an angry child stomping his feet because the ADULTS ARE TALKING. Validate? How can people validate empty space? You don't validate what doesn't exist, and you have no personality you call your own in order to be REAL.

It's true, it's all true, and somehow Sylar hadn't expected the thoughts to be driven back at him. It's awful, and Sylar rejects it immediately, causing another bright sharp stab of searing pain throughout Will's entire body. He whines like a light bulb about ready to pop as he disconnects. His entire body is still electricity and- lucky for House, he travels up that cane.

And then he hits the rubber. With nowhere to leap to, he explodes out of the cane, letting it shatter everywhere.

He intends to take the moment of distraction to reconstitute himself and then attack House, but he is literally a raw nerve, and Will just grabbed and shook it. So his form has only the barest of flesh now, trying and failing to grow over the lightning that keeps shooting out at all angles. The disorganized bundle of energy makes it way, plodding over towards House, in the hope that it can just try again, maybe...

House has no idea of the exchange going on in Will's head. All he knows is there he made a mistake when his cane bursts apart, sharp, singed shrapnel flying every direction. The hand holding the cane is the main victim for the doctor. The rubber glove melts around it, splinters stab through, wood flies up into his exposed cheeks. It's a miracle and a mercy nothing hits an eye or something else vitally important.

The doctor does fall back into the snow, though, with a cry of pain. He buries his hand deep in the snow, There's another sear of pain across his shoulder and the scent of burning flesh as one of Sylar's sparks stabs through his chest.

Up. Up. Need to run. They're almost to the shack. Will. Where's Will? The doctor struggles, fighting through the pain, just trying to get upright. Sylar's own delay might be enough to save them.

Edited 2018-10-30 19:27 (UTC)

Bits of wood sliced through Will's cheek and temple, a larger splinter burying itself in his shoulder. These pains were minor compared to the spark of electricity that tore down his spine once more.

He can hear House cry out, using the sound as a guide to identify which direction in which to lurch. His whole body hurts and he can smell blood. As his hands find House, he pushes at the doctor, not enough to topple him but encouragement to run, run before Sylar can pull himself back together and reach them.

Sylar squeals in frustration, the only sound he seems to be able to make right now. He stops walking and the rapid movement of the electrical outbursts seems to be dying down. The bolts are slowing in side-to-side movement. They stop reaching House and Will altogether, shortly.

He's starting to look less like a ball of light and more person-shaped. Might want to move quickly.

House's remaining good hand latches onto Will when he has him and pulls. They're getting out of this together. Together. He's not letting the moron do some sort of heroic sacrifice bullshit.

"Door!" Holding Will and clutching his injured hand close to his chest, the work of getting the door open will fall to the ex-profiler. Once they're in, House turns right back around to slam the door on Sylar and shove himself against the door to keep the anomaly out. It's a small mercy that this shack doesn't have any windows.

Will goes willingly where House pulls, though he listens to the squeal from behind them. Again, there is a part of him that feels genuine sympathy for Sylar, an understanding of what the man/creature wants. But he's simply not prepared to let him have it, particularly at the risk of House's safety.

It takes both his hands to figure out how to work the knob, the pain from all that electricity is starting to overwhelm the adrenaline in his system, but he gets the door open. One of his hands reaches back, trying to scrabble at House to ensure the doctor comes in with him, relaxing only once he hears the door slam shut.

Falling on the ground in an undignified heap, Will's head hung and he whispered.

"Sorry."

Whether the apology was to House, for not being able to help hold the door, or to Sylar on the other side, was anyone's guess. Hell, it probably was to them both.

As if on cue, there's a heavy thump on the other side of the door, and House can feel the electricity humming just a short distance away. "Go screw yourself, Gray!" Will might have sympathy. House's is limited. Far more limited, when his hand is a mess of wood shrapnel and second and third degree burns. Dire thoughts of gangrene play across his mind.

He slides down to sitting against the door to hold it. "How was the... mm... the ECT?" No bite guards included this time.

"Wonderful," Will rasped, his throat wrecked from the electricity. "I don't know why people don't indulge every day."

As he spoke he lay more completely on the floor. His pack was pushed under him and he thought he should move it, but it seemed like too much trouble at the moment.

As those words are evidence that Will is: (a) conscious, and (b) processing appropriately and capable of response, House just falls quiet for a little while.

Sylar continues pounding at the door for what feels like hours, but is really only about 20 minutes. House holds position for another 10 minutes before getting up and peeking out the door. The anomaly is gone. But he's not taking chances. He slumps down to block the door again and pulls out his tablet for light. The Vicodin comes out next and he dry swallows two pills to help deal with the pain as he finally pulls his hand away from where he has it curled to his chest and takes a look.

He tries to uncurl his fingers and makes a choked sound of agony. "Graham. I need your help." He needs to get the shrapnel out of Will, too. Maybe he should do that before dealing with his hand.

[log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

cw: ??? depersonalization maybe?, over-taking thoughts

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cw: burn and shrapnel injuries; rubber melting to skin

cw: burn and shrapnel injuries

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