sixwordstories | (no subject)

And yet human beings hate to be prey.

I'd think deer and zebra hate to be prey too.

But they don't try to put the predators in cages.

But other prey does. Never did like zoos.

It does seem a bit like a jail without the crimes, yes.

Their crime is that they are beautiful. And dangerous. That's about right for the human animal too. Weird how that works. The unlucky and stupid are the ones that end up in cages. Let them. More for the rest.

Are we beautiful and dangerous, then?

Well. I am.

I seem to be as well.

So we are, and isn't it delightful?

That probably depends on your reasoning. Daddy hit you as a kid? Uncle Billy touch you?

My whole family was killed. I found and butchered the men who did it.

Always a sob story.

[As if he doesn't have one himself.]

What's yours?

Actually, I'm just amazing. End of story there.

Somehow I doubt that. Everyone is formed by their past or no one is.

I might have been a monster anyway, for all I know.

I'm formed by my future. I'm not like you.

It's a bit difficult to be formed by the future. You don't know what it is.

You don't know what it is. I have a pretty good idea. And that's not the only thing.

What else, then?

[Do you like to fly, Hannibal? Are you all right with heights? Because you're just about to go sliding up to the ceiling. A flick of his finger is all it takes. Sylar does love that power. Watch him gloat from way up there.]

*He's unnervingly calm about it, actually.* Fascinating.

Put me down now, please.

[He did ask nicely but Sylar's never really liked 'nice.']

I'd rather not. Don't usually get people not immediately wetting themselves though.

I've been through worse. Just because this is slightly more unusual doesn't make it more frightening.

[How about some shaking around? Anything in your pockets he can turn out? Sylar likes fear.]

*There's a dagger, some coins, extra strings for a musical instrument and a few snacks.

*Still no fear, though. Mostly annoyance.* Just do whatever you plan on doing already, will you? Or else let me down.

[You want down? Mind your ankles. Sylar lets his arm and the man drop.]

What's wrong with you?

*Hannibal drops as silently and calmly as a cat, landing crouched with one hand on the floor. He stands with all the annoyed dignity of a wet cat, as well.*

I have learned not to worry about what I cannot control, and that fearing death does nothing to prevent it. *He smiles creepily, showing sharp, very white little teeth.* I am also what many people would consider to be criminally insane, but I find such people to be boring and cowlike.

Cruel, that sounds like something my prey would like to call me. Of course, I'm sure you're talking about a lion and a zebra.