Rating: R for gore
Warnings: Torture, very nasty, graphically described torture.
Word Count: 1,029
Spoilers: Through 3x16 “Building 26”
Disclaimer Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author’s Notes: Written for Fic Challenge #3 on lukexsylar, for the prompt "Fools and thralls talk of good and evil. Their masters think in time and place" from Dragon Outcast by E. E. Knight.
Summary: Luke learns the real meaning of power.
Luke hadn’t realized how fun it was to be on the opposite side of the chair, to be the one calling the shots, asking the questions, making the threats. And Sylar seemed to be enjoying his enjoyment more than enough for both of them.
“Come on man, you can do better than that!” Luke coaxed, a sneering tone to his voice.
The battered and bloody hunter-agent only glared out of puffed and swollen eyes, having learned the futility of lying with Sylar in the room. Now he confined his defiance to looks, having lost the use of his hands after his last bout of lies. Luke wasn’t sure what had scared the agent more, having his fingers swell and burst like overcooked hot dogs, or the unholy joy on Luke’s face while he was doing it.
Or maybe it had been the smile of approval on Sylar’s lips that had scared him so badly.
“The password, man. Password for the computer,” Luke repeated his question slowly and carefully, as if the agent were stupid.
There was a slight jerk of his head, an almost involuntary negation, and Luke looked exasperated.
“No. No.” The tremble in the agent’s voice almost made the negative answer a pleasure to hear. Never had Luke had that kind of power over anyone, and it was heady. Sylar had given him the agent, and the task of extracting the necessary information, as an apology for leaving him behind at the diner. He hadn’t called it an apology, of course, but Luke knew what it was.
He’d almost forgiven him. It was intensely therapeutic to hear the screams of someone who didn’t immediately heal afterwards, to let out every bit of screaming anger and frustration on something. It was almost enough to make him forget the reason they were doing this in the first place.
“Yeah. Because I do your feet next,” Luke said casually. The agent would have paled if his swelling and bruised face could have let him.
“No. They’ll find you. Stop you.”
Luke considered carrying out his threat immediately, and then paused. This was the first time the agent had said anything but an incomprehensible howl of pain in several minutes. Maybe he could keep him talking for a little while…
“Why?” he asked, leaning forward slightly to put his palms on the agent’s knees. The man jerked and nearly passed out from the pain as he attempted to flinch away. Luke sneered in the man’s face, but kept his power in check for the moment.
“You’re dangerous. A threat. They won’t stop until they get you,” the man wheezed. “You’re evil.”
Luke blinked at the agent, taken aback. He’d considered himself a lot of things, and been called plenty more, but “evil” hadn’t ever been one of them.
“Don’t bother labeling us.” Sylar’s deep voice sounded out of a shadowy corner of the room, and the agent refused to look there. Luke glanced over his shoulder, remembering Sylar’s reaction to being called a serial killer, and felt something click into place in his mind.
“I don’t fucking care what you think I am,” Luke said, glaring at the man. All his life he’d been called something, irresponsible, lazy, slacker, trouble-maker, delinquent, monster, and now evil. He preferred what Sylar had called himself when they’d first met, “force of nature.” Not evil or good, just powerful and unstoppable, wherever and whenever he happened to be. Wherever they happened to be.
“Fucking psycho-,” the agent burst out, a wild, hopeless look in his eye. Luke guessed he was trying to make Luke kill him before he gave up the password, and maybe a day or two ago, he would have done it.
But Sylar had come back for him, and given him this task and apology. Luke refused to stop until he had what he wanted. If the agent would have listened to Sylar in the first place, when he’d said he’d let him go if he gave up the password, he might have gotten out of this unscathed. He hadn’t, and now he was Luke’s to dispose of. Luke found he didn’t particularly care about the agent as a person, only what he had in his mind. That’s how Sylar must have felt with his victims.
It was like being an uncaring god.
Luke leaned in a little and slowly let his power out, eyes shining. Just a bit of power, just enough so the agents could smell his own flesh cooking, his bones burning, and finally come to realize he wasn’t going to get the sweet relief of death until he gave up everything he knew.
Sobbing, the man spilled the password, his voice breathless and high as his knees and legs cooked, his blood boiling and skin crisping.
Sylar slowly typed in the password as if he had all the time in the world, and nodded shortly.
“It worked. Good job, Luke.”
Luke didn’t even look at the agent directly as he aimed one hand at his face and let loose at full strength. Sylar’s small smile of approval made him turn to evaluate his own handiwork, watching in a kind of awe as the agent’s eyes burst and melt out of his head, the flesh of his face splitting and oozing, the man’s tongue swelling to unbelievable proportions before the agent’s brain finally was reduced to liquid gelatin leaking out his ears.
“That was awesome,” Luke said, standing up straighter, breathing coming faster as the body sagged in its bonds from the chair.
Sylar only smiled a little, and jerked his head to the door. Now that they had access to the government files and location programs, they wouldn’t have to be bothered by agents again. No distractions. No one yelling that they were evil. Just themselves, all the world, and all the time to see it.
Luke grinned more widely, showing all of his teeth as they piled into the truck and headed down the highway. This was better than a roadtrip, better than being able to use his power.
Sylar had actually been impressed with him. This was being like being the master of the goddamned universe.