Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Not My Fault

"Sylar, don't you dare eat that brain," I said rather sternly.

But he ignored me. And now I have a mess on my hands.

"Me too!" Sylar giggled as he happily showed me his blood-drenched hands.

"You realize," I said to him, "Angela's going to throw you back into your cell for this."

"Mother would never do something like that. I'm her favorite!"

He is most likely indeed her favorite, but that's precisely why she locked him back up. She's always been a smotherer. That's why I didn't want her in Claire's life. She's over-bearing.

Sylar sulked inside his cell, "Aw, gee mom, you never let me go outside and play with all the other boys."

"That's because you're special," she replied moving closer to the glass wall separating them. "I want you in here with me, where you're safe."

"You should shoot him," I suggested.

"Oh, shut your trap, Bennet," she replied. Then, she reassured Sylar, "Don't worry about the mean man in the glasses. Nobody can take you away from me now. Nobody."

Later, the old windbag, as Kaito once referred to her (it sounds better in Japanese), called me into her (Bob's) office.

"You shouldn't have let him eat Jesse's brain," she said as I walked in.

I took a seat and insisted, "It wasn't my fault. I told you this would happen."

"Yes, I know. But I'm going to blame you anyway."

I was baffled. "Why?" I asked. "I operated one hundred percent professionally, as always."

"You did. But I'm the boss, and I'm blaming you," she replied.

I said to her, "You should blame Sylar."

"Oh, he's just misunderstood," she explained. "And besides, he's my son now. Hasn't Thompson or Elle taught you how important nepotism is to The Company?"

"I don't even work for The Company anymore!"

"Which is why I can't fire you. But watch yourself, Bennet. One more slip up like this and you could be on the streets looking for another secret organization with escaped villains for you to pursue."

She was right. I'd never get an opportunity like this again. There is still bagging and tagging to be done. "Fine," I said. "I'll take responsibility for Sylar's recent indiscretion."

"Good," she replied, "but I'm docking your pay."

"What pay?" I asked.



Elizabeth said...

Is it me, or Mama Petrelli is like Mrs Cartman, and Sylar is just like lovely Eric Cartman?
Need some decaf, mr Glasses?

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator said...

sorry about the pay thing. Lol