Genre: gen (for a change)
Word count: 242
Rating: PG 13
Note: for fixthepast who wants this to be canon for our boys.
Pain! I grabbed my throat as the sharp spikes dug into my flesh. The taste of blood filled the back of my throat, and I dropped to the floor in a heap while my regen fought with the blood loss and tissue damage to keep me alive. I clawed at the collar, trying to break the technological terror that kept me shackled to the little shit who was laughing at me—Peter Fucking Petrelli.
“Make it stop!” I couldn’t talk, so I thought my rage at him as hard as I could while I struggled. “Peter! Fucking stop it!”
“It’ll stop when you stop fighting it, Sylar.” He stood over me, watching me thrash about like a dying fish, floundering in a pool of my own blood. “But it won’t come off. It doesn’t come off until you stop being such an evil bastard.”
I growled—a sound that I was able to make. The device kept me from focusing to use my abilities. I couldn’t break the collar. I couldn’t break Peter’s neck. I couldn’t breathe! I was dying, and I was sick of dying. My knuckles hurt from pounding my fists into the floor until I got my temper under control. The blades retracted, and I gasped for breath as my throat and neck healed. I spat a gob of blood on the toe of Peter’s boots to clear my mouth.
“Oops. Sorry.” I wasn’t sorry. I never would be.