Seven:
Window
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Sylar is awake now, and placidly watches as the Doctor takes small wires and attaches them to his bare chest, arms and head. He allows himself a grimace as one is stuck onto his forehead; how annoying this Doctor is.
When a machine to the side is rhythmically beeping to the anthem of Sylar's relatively calm heartbeat, the Doctor nods to himself and takes out several syringes from his white bag. He fusses with the pointy objects and his hands shake minutely as he tests the flow of liquid onto a metal tray. Sylar's eyes slide from the shiny piece of metal to The Doctor and he doesn't flinch as the cold syringe is put to his skin. He can almost hear the sound of skin breaking. Ugh.
As he is being injected, Sylar can't help but notice how The Doctor's eyes never once meet his own.
"You enjoy the thrill of this, don't you, Doctor?" Sylar's eyes are alight with his new toy. The Doctor doesn't respond but that is to be expected.
The change was sharp and agonizing. Sylar sucked in a breath and jammed his eyes shut. The feeling was like liquid electricity, burning its way through his veins. At first it's just in his toes, but then it spreads. He screams in pain, and jerks at the restraints. He is now breathing hard, his jaw clenched shut and his hands tight fists. After a jarring three minutes, the pain starts to subside. But Sylar does not relax his rigid body as his senses are, slowly, given back to him. When he can no longer feel anything he shouldn't, he unclenches his jaw and takes a deep breath.
The machine monitoring his vitals is beeping furiously with the rapid beats of his heart and Sylar silently curses it.
The Doctor is at his side, furiously taking notes and checking the small computer which is monitoring his now slightly irregular vitals. After a few minutes Sylar's heartbeat slows and the beeps become fewer in between, more regular.
Without warning, the Doctor exits the cell, and Sylar is left alone with only the beeping machine for company.
It is a tiring half hour later when the Doctor re-emerges with a dolly and medical fluid bag attached. The liquid inside looks clear, but colour is hardly an accurate indicator. He then types something in the extrorsely facing laptop. When he's done, The Doctor opens his bag and takes another syringe from his bag, immediately sticking it into Sylar's arm. The effect is instantaneous and Sylar is out like a light in moments; the blackness a sorry relief.
After a few hours of testing, The Doctor is once again taking notes on the laptop, his mind only on what he has observed. It is a few seconds before he registers the fact that Sylar's breathing has faltered. He is about to investigate further when Sylar coughs roughly, and jerks at the restraints.
Oh God, he's choking.
Not wanting to actually kill his patient, the Doctor began to swiftly unlatch the restraints. That done, he looked around for a bucket and saw one in the corner he was using just before. He held it out and the now unrestrained Sylar grabbed it; just in time to retch into.
He made a few more gagging noises, directed them into the bucket before swallowing disgustedly. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed with the bucket under his chin. One minute he was under, his mind only partially aware of what was happening to it and the next he couldn't breathe. But as he had earlier assumed, these people here would not let him die, and there had been relief when he could lean over and clear his burning throat.
He stared at the bucket for a moment but then dropped it to the floor in mild disgust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He paused, and noticed the tube in his nose, still pumping him with who knows what. He jerked it out and flung it to the floor.
"What the hell was that?" he said, wiping one hand on his pants. The Doctor was wide-eyed and against the wall. Sylar had to wait a few seconds before recieving an answer.
"Th- the glicimerine reacted negatively to-- to your amuse system, prompting… your reaction." He gulped and glanced down to the tube on the floor, visibly afraid to be cornered by the free and dangerous killer.
"And why didn't you realize this sooner, Doctor?" Sylar said smoothly, his gaze piercing a hole through the Doctor's head. What Sylar didn't realize was that as soon as he was handed the bucket, the Doctor had pushed his emergency button, signalling a support team.
Sylar slid down from the improvised examination table and took a few slow steps toward the shaking man. He was in arms reach when the team burst in, all guns aimed at his chest. He looked up, surprised, and raises his hands peacefully, but not in surrender. He could feel his power returning; it was just a slow trickle of energy but all that he needed. He didn't protest though, as one of the guards roughly jabbed him with a tranquilizer. The effects are as before, but this time Sylar does not fight; his window of opportunity has come.
