Aim For The Head
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, Claire, Elle, Micah, the Kids, the Zombies
Author's Note: Title came from the song Aim For The Head by Creature Feature. Damn thing inspired a fic.
Warnings: This be a crack fic, folks, filled with zombies. And slight sexual references, and, uh, language...Oh, and slash, so don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. Or any of the characters. Sadly.
The bullet flew straight and true, through bone and cartilage, and buried itself in the squishy brain inside. The zombie looked momentarily surprised before he toppled to the ground.
"And that's how it's down, kids," Elle said, twirling the gun a little because she'd always been a little theatrical. "Aim for the head, that's always the way to go." The 'kids' oohed and aahed, while Claire rolled her eyes. Micah, who had just had a front row seat for the latest zombie killing, stared past her, face pulled down in horror. He pointed, his finger visibly shaking.
"It's him!" he shouted. Elle winced and rubbed her ear but turned nonetheless to see what all the fuss was about. She, along with everyone else, gasped, for it was none other than Sylar, the Zombie King himself. Knowing they didn't stand a chance against his zombie might (plus, he could, like, control other zombies and that was, like, totally bad news, dude), they all turned tail and ran.
Sylar laughed his gruesome zombie laugh, a bit surprised when his nose fell off in all the movement. He reattached it immediately, thankful it hadn't been his eyebrows again. Those were a bitch to reattach. Then he lurched after his prey, thinking nice zombie thoughts about brains and squishy soft things, like his puppy.
Peter, high on the rooftop above, sighed. He was bored. Elle and Claire were always making him the lookout (a very boring position and no mistake) because apparently the Zombie King himself was out looking for him. He rolled his eyes and hoisted his sniper rifle. Bring on the bastard! He'd shoot the fuck out of him, he would!
He glanced down at the street below, both eyebrows rising as he saw the group running away from someone who, after closer inspection, turned out to be Sylar, the Zombie King himself. Peter was positively giddy with joy. Now he could prove himself!
He aimed his sniper rifle at Sylar's head and fired. A direct hit! He whooped as Sylar toppled to the ground and spent a few minutes doing a strange little dance of his own making before a cold, amused voice said from behind him, "You know, I really don't appreciate being shot at."
He froze. Dammit, was his last thought before a cold hand pulled him around to face the owner of the voice, none other than Sylar, the Zombie King himself. He gulped. Fuck, he moved fast! But then again he was a special zombie. Special zombies could do all sorts of crazy shit.
Instead of screaming, as he probably should have because it would have directed the group to his location, he glared at Sylar, who looked amused at his show of bravery. He laughed, because that's what people usually did when they were amused (or so he had been told).
"I don't know why but I feel like asking you to be my Zombie Queen," Sylar said. That was sort of the reason he'd been looking for Peter anyway.
Peter wrinkled his nose. "Ew, no. I'm not a girl."
Sylar leered at him. "I know." He thought for a moment. It was a long moment because he rarely thought about anything and was thus out of practice. "If you don't mind being under me, I'll settle for my Zombie Prince."
Peter looked thoughtful. He hadn't been killed yet – definitely good. He was being leered at and propositioned by someone he knew to be bad news, dude – unclear whether this was good or bad. If he said no, he would probably be dead in a second (make that a micro-second) – not good at all. The choice seemed obvious.
"Okay," he said, thinking that at least he wouldn't be bored. Sylar grinned at him and then proceeded to show him, in great detail, what exactly being his Zombie Prince entailed. Peter was surprised, a little intimidated and slightly turned on. He told Sylar this, because honesty had definitely turned out to be a good policy in his life.
The Zombie King promptly retired and took his Zombie Prince overseas where all sorts of crazy zombie adventures happened, all of which the authorities ignored because zombies were a part of life there. They even had their own union, and one had even written something called A Declaration on the Rights of Zombies.
The zombies in America went still after that. Micah went up to one and poked it. It promptly fell over. Kids all around the world began to poke them with sticks, because it was totally gross and awesome, dude. Elle and Claire rolled their eyes because they were of the delicate feminine persuasion that much preferred to shoot the zombies full of lead in case they decided to get up again. They did so. It was fun.
I...can't even blame this on sugar. I guess I just wanted to write something totally cracky and silly, dude.
Review please.