With Fire


ash_icon.gif sylar3_icon.gif

Scene Title With Fire
Synopsis Ash recruits someone who was interested in the cause.
Date May 8, 2010

The Center Stage

Ash fought a little earlier, and he took one hell of a beating from a guy with Rock Hard skin. It took Ash a little while to figure him out, the time delay on his power of being able to harden his skin and such, and he took quite a few good blows in that time. But once he had it figured out it wasn't too long before he was able to take the man down. He's walking away at the moment, having collected his winnings and gotten changed back into normal clothing. He's limping slightly as he makes his way towards the exit, right foot dragging a bit, and his left arm is cradled against his stomach. There's a very large, very colorful bruise forming across the right side of his jaw and down onto his neck from a solid jaw shot as well. The plac eis pretty packed tonight, as it always is on Evolved night, alot of competitors, and a ton of betters. Ash folds his money away into a pocket on the inside of his coat as he walks along.

It would have been hard to pinpoint a familiar face in the crowd — especially after so many months. Although if you looked for the one who was not cheering, apart from the rest, perhaps then the teenager could have been recognised. As it stands, he made sure he would not be, and in New York City, it's not hard to simply blend into the masses.

He breaks from them now, though, as Ash starts his trek out into the blizzardy night, a journey many will be reluctant to walk. The figure that pursues him looks like he is probably slender, but it's difficult to tell beneath winter layers of clothes, the woolen cap drawn down to his brow and over the pale shells of his ears, but the young man picks up a hand and drags it down off his head, lank brunette hair chopped just above his shoulders, and could stand to have a comb dragged through it as much as he doesn't overall look as bedraggled as when he'd first cornered Ash on the open streets.

"Hey," the teenager who told Ash to call him Sylar says. "Ash."

Ash doesn't stop in his first few steps. He takes a further few, bringing him up closer to the doors, and the guards there before he turns around, his shoe scraping lightly on the floor underfoot. He doesn't have his weapons on him, they were confiscated at the door, so his hands that were starting to reach beneath his coat stop, and instead slip into his pockets, his eyes settling up the younger man. It has been quite awhile, at least six months, but he recognizes the face, his eyes narrowing a touch before a faintly amused smirk flickers across his lips.

Ash tilts his head to the side as an eyebrow is lofted at Gabriel. "Sylar wasn't it?" HIs voice is soft, spoken so just the two of them hear. "Been looking for you." He adds in there before looking aroudn the place, then towards the exit doors. "Outside?" he asks, his head tilting towards the door in indication, but he waits to see if that's where he'd like to talk.

Sylar juts his chin up both in a nod of acknowledgment of the name he'd given Ash to call him by, and in agreement to go outside. With a glance back at the rowdy fighting den, he bundles his arms around himself and starts to fall into step with the older man. With a scarf bundled up high to his chin, his words get half-muffled in gathered wool, but audible to Ash's keen ears. "I moved on from Staten Island for a while," he explains. "Moved in with a friend in Red Hook when winter hit, but I still had some connections out there. They said you had been looking for me."

Up the stairs and until the gym proper, which is less than crowded on the Saturday night — both for the extended winter and both that the main event is going on under their feet.

Ash climbs the stairs up out of the basement, steps scuffing on the concrete as he walks, his steps heavy from his injuries, mostly bruises and scrapes, though his knee is going to be hurting him for a few days. Once upstairs in teh gym Ash takes a little look about before his head tilts. He pulls his right hand out of his coat and runs his fingers through his hair, the red scarf on his wrist showign rather clearly. "Well, been looking since I got back into the city early last month." He sticks his hand back in his pocket and continues walking through the gym, a slow walk though.

"You said you were interested in what I was doing then, that you might consider being a part of it. Does that still hold true?" His head turns and his eyes settle on Gabriel, focusing on him as he walks. He stops in an empty area near some lockers, then turns his head to glance out a window at the blizzard out there. "You up for braving the cold? Or would you rather stay in here while we talk?"

Grinding to a halt, Sylar flicks his hazel-brown gaze towards the window that shows only white and black, like static on a television screen. "Here's good," he says, words on the end of a breathless chuckle, hands tucking into his pockets along with the knit cap he squishes into the leather-lining of his coat. His attention snags at the red at Ash's wrist, but crosses over it, back to regarding the apparently older man's face with lingering curiousity, or perhaps just reconfirming what he looks like.

"It still holds true," he states, with a youthful kind of uncertainty as he levels that look at the other form Moab inmate. "That ain't a fire that's ever just gonna go out, you know?" There seems to be a brimming kind of anticipation, the same that drove him out into the cold to see what it is he was summoned for.

Ash nods his head a touch, not turning towards the doors then, and instead moving over to one of the benches near the lockers. The big man settles down onto it with a slow but smooth and graceful motion. Once settled in his eyes focus upon the floor, staring for a good fifteen seconds or so. When his gaze lifts up from the floor his head tilts a bit. "Good. And no, this fire isn't goign to go out. It will have to be put out. And very often the only way to stop a wild fire is with fire. YOu burn it's fuel supply with controlled flames so it has nothing left to burn and it gutters out." He purses his lips for a second or two then continues. "There's always people willing to do what needso t be done, and I'm one of those people, as are the others that wear this." he taps his right wrist. "Something tells me you're one of those people as well."

Again, the red scarf is looked to, intrigue clearly sparking behind Sylar's face, shifting his expression to reflect it openly by the time he's regarding Ash once more. His mouth crooks into a half-smile, albeit a grim one — the subject matter that brought him to Ash the first time, and vice versa, is not something worth smiling over. "I just need to know what to do," he affirms, bridled keenness in his voice. "Just need to know what needs to be done, and I'm there. Who— " His head tips, bird-like. "Who are the others? That wear that?"

Ash looks over Gabriel as the man eyes the scarf around his wrist, a light smile on his lips, not amusement, more like a memory. His nostrils flare slightly as he takes in a deep breath, then lets it out before his eyes pull away and go about th egym. "I'm a soldier. I could probably be a leader, but I'm alot more comfortable taking orders and doing what needs doing and letting others do the planning and such things. I don't know who you are honestly, but the people that run this thing know who you are, and they were rather intrigued by the possibility of you being a part of this when I asked them what they thought. They also told me to be careful, which tells me you're not someone to trifle with either." he reaches his hand into his coat and pulls out two things. A simple cell phone, and another red scarf. "Have you been vaccinized yet Sylar?" He looks up to him curiously.

"It's the name," Sylar dismisses, with another crooked smile, although his eyes have gone somewhat hard and focused at this news. "Everyone knows it. It does what it should — inspires fear. Vaccin— " Oh. There is an element of having not thought of that, his brow crinkling before he looks down at his feet in the second it takes for him to think, before he shakes his head. "Not me — I'm only the kind of Registered that got me thrown in jail, you know? Cage would come down if I tried to walk into a clinic. I've just been keeping to myself until they started throwing contagious people into hospital wards. That gonna be a problem?"

Ash can't shis head to the side slightly, eyes curious as they flicker to Sylar, then around the room before settling once more upon him. "Well. I know the name, but not the man behind the name. The name… well… means nothing without knowing who is behind it." He tilts his head a little bit to the mention of cages and clinics and such. He lifts his head, tilting it to the left to reveal the mark on his neck from repeated shots. "Moab." He taps his neck lightly right on that spot, then tilts his head back into it's proper place. "I've been in thier cage. Not a place I'm going to go back if there is a damn thing I can do about it." He pulls in a slow breath, then lets it out before hsi head is shaken. "Nope, cause we'll immunize you. We knocked off a shipment. We thoguht there would be more than there was, unfortunatley it was just enough for our orginization. I've been authorized to offer you one of the vaccines, as well as this." he holds the scarf adn the phone out. "All of these scarves are cut from one piece of fabric. We all wear one. Unity of purpose. I don't know you, I know what the public says about you, but as I've already said… I don't know you, but can you be a part of a unity like that? Can you take orders and can you watch other people's backs?"

"Hey, I can't say I can live up to a mass murderer," the teenager says, hands twitching before going out to accept the phone, which is turned over curiously, and then with more reverence, he takes the scarf. A minor hesitation, before he binds the red fabric around his arm in mimicry of Ash. "But it's like I told you the first time — Sylar changed the world. And that's what I want to do — for the good, this time. I can take orders," and with a jerk, he seals the knot over his woolen sleeve and where pale flesh peeks from it. "I can watch people's backs. So long as I can be a part of this— "

He nods, switching the phone from one hand to another. "Then I'll do whatever you need. When can I meet them?"

Ash watches the young man take the scarf, adn the phone and he tilts hsi ehad forwards slowly. "That phone doesn't work unless big brother says it does. If you need to call me, just tell it you need to call Ash and big brother will hook you up to me. Until others introduce themselves and such I won't give you names. It's thier place to do so, not mine. Big brother will be the one to tell you wahts what. I'm just the messenger and the soldier." He rubs the thumb of his left hand over the scarf slowly. "Pariah? No. Pariah is more or less what I was tryign to do. Some of them were in Pariah as I understand it though. And yes, Sylar might have changed the world, the question will be. For better? Or for worse? And i have a feeling we won't be able to answer that question for a long time coming. Now, is there something else I can call you so as not to yank heads towards us should we be overheard?" He arches a brow, then makes a little face. "If it helps, my real name is Ashley."

This admission and sharing of true names gets a startled grin from Sylar, though he is smart enough to smother it quickly, nodding his understanding. "I'll wait for Big Brother, then," he agrees, then shrugs a shoulder. "The kid stupid enough— " He pauses, quickly glancing at Ash as if to check of offense, before clearing his throat. "The kid that got caught up in Moab went in as 'Dylan Arnett' — they made me who I am today though, and that sure as shit isn't who I used to be, you know what I mean? But if you gotta, there it is."

He lists a step to the right, sensing that this meeting is almost over — and it's clear his mind is racing ahead. "I think that Sylar changed the world and it's up to people like us, you and me, to decide if it was for the better or the worse. People like— " He glances down at the scarf, crooks a smile. "Like this unity."

Ash lifts his eyes upwards, a new shared bond there in them with the knowledge that the man before him has been to Moab as well. "That place changed us all. I just recruited the sister of a woman that was there with us, and there are others. 2 that I know of for sure that were there with us, possibly more, and I know others in the city, but they're not ready for this fight, or they have too much to live for. I have nothing to live for. There is nothing left in this world for me, but to make sure our people aren't subjugated, oppressed, and kept down because we are genetically different. The world is racist. It doesn't matter what form that race takes, new scares them." He rises to his feet, stretching out a little bit, a wince crossing his features from his knee.

"Well Dylan, this unity has a purpose. We're growing our strength right now before striking. Where others have struck out at oppurtunity, we're planning. We're making our oppurtunity. We might not change the world, but we're goign to give it out best fucking shot and go down fighting." He smiles, then holds his hand out towards Sylar, Gabriel, the Midtown Man. "You know, they label you a monster. Maybe you are one, maybe you're not, but if you are, you're not the only monster lurking beneath thier beds." He winks at him, then turns away, footsteps taking him towards the doors.

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