Sylar | Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gabriel_gray) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2015-06-26 05:58 pm
gabriel_gray) wrote in maskormenace2015-06-26 05:58 pm
Video;
[ It's a peaceful scene in Maurtia Falls. The speaker is standing at the edge of the city's central canal. His ID reads 'Sylar'. Ominous for those who've come into contact with him. But Sylar has never been seen on the network before, and today is no different. Dressed in a black, high collared long coat, his face is obscured by a smiling Guy Fawkes mask.
He gives a metal gas canister a little shake as he shows it to the camera. It sounds empty, just a little liquid sloshing about in the bottom. And then he steps aside, showing the backdrop. Not much to see. Greyish skies, a car parked on the opposite bank, warehouses in the background. This part of the canal is in one of the shabbier parts of the industrial district, where prostitutes regularly take their johns to provide their service because there are rarely any interruptions. In fact, there does seem to be someone in the car, the driver's seat cocked back at an angle.
Hmm. ]
You know, I've really been very good. Very good. I should have realized that none of you really put any weight on human life. It's all just noise, as usual.
So what do I have to lose? Here's the thing, I am starving. I was locked away, denied my pursuits, denied even my rights as a human being. Now it's my turn. What's dying, really, when you come right back? A small sacrifice to make to stop a murder spree seems reasonable, don't you think?
But for the sake of getting your attention--
[ He opens his hand in front of him, and a phoenix like shape made all of fire emerged from his fingertips, licking flame and slowly opening its elaborate wings. He closed it into a ball of flame as it closed its wings again, and then pivoted on the spot and threw the ball across the canal. There, it caught a ribbon of gasoline on the ground, which leapt from the shore to the car, catching it violently aflame. A few seconds later, it exploded. ]
That's my cue to leave. You'll be hearing from me again in--let's say twenty-four hours, if my needs aren't met.
----------------
OOC: There is in fact nobody getting a blow job in the car across the canal, but a sad mannequin will melt into goo. Sylar will be resuming his commentary and responding from elsewhere, a safe distance from any heroes investigating the scene (which characters are free to do). In any case his motivation for doing this isn't just to try and get someone to volunteer to be his next victim, or even draw a hero into a battle that (he thinks) they can't possibly win (I am open for plotting plskthnx). But what his reasons are will be revealed in comments. Probably at the point where he admits that his 'murder' is all a big hoax...
He gives a metal gas canister a little shake as he shows it to the camera. It sounds empty, just a little liquid sloshing about in the bottom. And then he steps aside, showing the backdrop. Not much to see. Greyish skies, a car parked on the opposite bank, warehouses in the background. This part of the canal is in one of the shabbier parts of the industrial district, where prostitutes regularly take their johns to provide their service because there are rarely any interruptions. In fact, there does seem to be someone in the car, the driver's seat cocked back at an angle.
Hmm. ]
You know, I've really been very good. Very good. I should have realized that none of you really put any weight on human life. It's all just noise, as usual.
So what do I have to lose? Here's the thing, I am starving. I was locked away, denied my pursuits, denied even my rights as a human being. Now it's my turn. What's dying, really, when you come right back? A small sacrifice to make to stop a murder spree seems reasonable, don't you think?
But for the sake of getting your attention--
[ He opens his hand in front of him, and a phoenix like shape made all of fire emerged from his fingertips, licking flame and slowly opening its elaborate wings. He closed it into a ball of flame as it closed its wings again, and then pivoted on the spot and threw the ball across the canal. There, it caught a ribbon of gasoline on the ground, which leapt from the shore to the car, catching it violently aflame. A few seconds later, it exploded. ]
That's my cue to leave. You'll be hearing from me again in--let's say twenty-four hours, if my needs aren't met.
----------------
OOC: There is in fact nobody getting a blow job in the car across the canal, but a sad mannequin will melt into goo. Sylar will be resuming his commentary and responding from elsewhere, a safe distance from any heroes investigating the scene (which characters are free to do). In any case his motivation for doing this isn't just to try and get someone to volunteer to be his next victim, or even draw a hero into a battle that (he thinks) they can't possibly win (I am open for plotting plskthnx). But what his reasons are will be revealed in comments. Probably at the point where he admits that his 'murder' is all a big hoax...
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