..:Guns and Glory:..

Sitting at her computer, the glow of the screen cast a dark shadow under her sleepless eyes. She remained quiet, thoughtful; typing away as she thought of different things she could possibly say. Her eyelids drooped slightly, but she shook the tiredness away and continued her work. Once she finished the email she added the Saints sign and it was sent. She bit at her lip absentmindedly, tongue grazing over her piercings once in a while, her mind raced. There was no way she would be getting any sleep any time soon. Everything was happening much too fast for her liking but she knew she had to take these matters in to her own hands. She was Sylar Armeni, leader of the Third Street Saints. Now was no time for sleeping. Even if she'd been awake for two days straight.

Curiously, she looked down at the clock in the right hand corner.

5:09am.

A gentle sigh escaped her pouting lips. She couldn't believe how fast time passed when she needed it to go just a little slower. Make that three days… she thought to herself, hand rubbing over her light pale blue eyes. Everything was piling up so fast, and with the gang taking over more and more territory it meant more and more to worry about it. But there was no way she'd stop. No way would she ever stop. Stilwater was hers and the Saints alone. No one else had the right…

I need a fuckin' drink… Her mind begged her to lay down on the expansive purple silk covered mattress across the room but she simply walked passed it, not even giving it a glance, heading out in to the cool royal purple carpeted hallway and down the sleek marble staircase.

For once, Purgatory was quiet. Although vastly covered in many people wearing the Saint's purple, they were all passed out on the couches, at the bar, and some even on the floor. Sylar moved quietly around them, warily as to not wake any of them up and sat down on one of the only empty bar stools; only empty due to the Saint who had been passed out on it had slid off and tumbled on to the floor, now in a heap next to her. She laughed softly to herself and moved to grab a bottle of whatever was closest to her.

Party… She thought dryly, looking at the label of the bottle of Jack Daniels.

She placed the bottle to her lips and sucked back the poison. It stung a little going down but gave her a shot she had needed of wakefulness. She rubbed her eyes once more before completely finishing the bottle. Afterwards getting up again and commencing her stagger back for the stairs, which she found much harder now than when she had come down with the bodies lying around in her way. She scowled to herself, trying not to fall over, on top of one of the Saints, her arms were out to keep her balance and from any bystander she would have looked completely ridiculous.

Sylar was a Boss unlike any other. After being in a coma for five years it was clear to anyone who had previously known her that she hadn't changed at all. Sure she was a little taller and fuller but she was still that same girl Julius and Troy had rescued from the other gangs of the time. She was still that girl who impressed Johnny Gat when she beat the shit out of some of the other Saints while being canonized. She may have started to talk more, but everything else, was the same. She still had long chestnut brown hair, straight for the most part but waves still filled it in places, with bangs swept across one side of her paled face. Her eyes were still the same light blue and skin the same milky peach. She was still shorter than most, and although not very tiny, still small to be in a gang. Standing only 5'4 she seemed so much less threatening than she actually was. But anyone who had been so unlucky as to cross paths with her… knew otherwise.

A figure suddenly emerged from a side room, yawning loudly. Sylar jumped slightly, hand going to the gun that rested in the back of her pants until her eyes met the familiar face of her right hand man, Johnny Gat. She smiled in relief and his head turned toward her, looking at her curiously. Both of them stared each other down, until Sylar finally fell back on her ass, lucky not to land on top of anyone. Johnny laughed and made his way over to her, offering her one of his hands. She gladly took it and stood up, thanking him quietly. She stared at their hands a moment; chuckling to herself… his hand was so much larger than hers.

Johnny smirked, looking down at her arm while she was focused on their hands, crisscrossed with burn scars and her own inflicted razor cuts. He sighed softly, the tattoos covered a lot, but they were still visible, to someone who was looking anyway. And Johnny was looking. He was always looking. Watching out for his Boss because that's what Johnny Gat did. Crazy as fuck, loved to blow shit up, but very protective and loyal to his colors.

"You just wake up?" He asked his Boss, letting go of her hand as she stumbled over to the cool marble steps to sit down. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head,
"still haven't found it in me to go to sleep."
"You're a fuckin' lunatic." Gat breathed, he knew she hadn't slept last night, or the night before that either.
"Guess so." She stuck her tongue out, smugly smiling at him.
That smile, it made him weak… He shook away the thought and rolled his eyes at her, "jus' get your ass to bed Boss before I have to put it there."
"Sure." She complied, standing once again and began heading up the steps. "Night Gat." She waved back at him before disappearing down the hall and back in to her room.
"Night…" He whispered, watching her go awhile. She always looked so good to him, especially now that she had matured and filled out. Back when they had first met she was a scrawny 15 year old girl, who had a temper to boot and the strength to match. She was quiet, but she was deadly and he had made it his own personal mission to look out for her; even if it didn't always go as planned. They butted heads a lot in the past but had bonded like no other two people could.

The way she wore that tiny purple bind around her full breasts, showing off her abs, tattoos and slender figure, and how her baggy dark grey pants supported by a Saints belt rested low on her hips, showing them off nicely as well. He stared at the tattoo on her lower back, hidden a little by her royal purple boxers and smirked. The beautiful curved letters fit her body perfectly. She was forever a Saint just like him and he knew that would never change. Finally she was out of sight and he was out of his trance. He slowly made his way to grab a beer from the bar fridge and headed out to be back at Aisha's before the sun was fully up and shining and she found him missing.

Aisha…he truly did love her, so, so much. But for some reason every time he tried to picture forever with her it just didn't work. Aisha wasn't the type of girl who liked going to the firing range, didn't like shooting the shit out of stuff, and blowing shit up. Sylar was his perfect girl for that. She was always up for rigging a few cops' cars to explode, or shooting up some motherfucker who tried to take them on. She always enjoyed her time with him at the firing range, too, he knew. She suggested going all the time. The two were as close as two people could get without getting in to bed with each other. He loved her too, but those feelings he had been trying to push back for a long time. First it was because she was much younger than him, but now he could care less about their age difference. Now it was because he was afraid to be rejected and he could never hurt Aisha like that. He shook Sylar from his mind as he quietly snuck in the door and climbed in to bed next to Aisha, arm wrapping around her waist.

Meanwhile Sylar herself was just beginning to climb in to bed. She slipped herself in between the silken sheets and rested her head against the cool pillow. Her eyes slowly began to close but she found it hard to keep them there. Eventually around 7am she drifted off to sleep and wasn't seen again until 6pm when she emerged from her room. She had showered and dressed, ready to face the day err, night. She stretched happily, heading to the main lobby and pulled out her phone, seeing a text from Carlos telling her to meet him on the train around 7pm. She yawned softly and headed out, getting there right on time. The train stopped and she climbed in behind him.

"Why are we meeting on the el?"  She asked curiously.
"Wanted to get out of the god damn sewer…"
"Why are you looking away?"
"…in case you're, you know, being followed."
"This ain't a goddamn spy movie Carlos… Can you turn around." She growled softly, frustrated with him.
Carlos sighed and turned to face her.
"Whadaya got for me?"
"Nothing."
"Are you shitting me?" Sylar grabbed a hold of the bar overhead and leaned in to him menacingly.
"Listen, I tried everything I could. What was I supposed to do?"
"Try harder…"
"After that shit you pulled with Donnie, the Brotherhood has been keeping a tight lid on whatever's going on. I heard one guy mentioned 'the shipment' but other than that it looks like we're back to square one."
"Which is?"
"We know the like trucks and tattoos."
"You were on my short list and all you're giving me is tattoos and trucks?" Sylar practically screamed.
"And 'the shipment'." Carlos piped, hoping to calm her.
"Which you know shit about…"
Carlos inclined his head, feeling terrible. He felt like he couldn't do anything right. Sylar's eyes softened slightly, gently placing a hand on Carlos' back. She didn't want to yell and scream at him, he was new to all of this….
"Listen Carlos, I like you; I do, but you've got a lot to learn about being a Lieutenant."
"I wish I had more to give you." He sighed.
"Believe me, so do I. But fuck it, we'll figure out somethin'." Her eyes traveled up, gazing out the window and toward the horizon. They landed upon the nuclear plant sitting in the middle of the water and smirked softly, getting an idea.
"What is it?" Carlos could see the glint in her eye…he knew she was getting an idea.
"I think I got an idea… "The train slowly began to come to a stop. "Maero said he had a lotta canvas left… I'm gonna splatter paint all over it." The doors opened and she stepped out, turning back to look at Carlos before the doors closed. "Don't worry Carlos, Ima make a banger outta you if it kills me." She saluted him as the doors closed and headed off to one of her cars, parked not too far from where she was at.


She got in to her deep purple Attrazione, resting back comfortably in the fine black leather seat. Her gloved hands gripped the wheel hard before heading over to the docks, snatching up a boat once there to drive herself to the nuclear plant out in the water. She was looking for radioactive waste, having just come up with this plan against the Brotherhood for having offered her so little, and fucking with her. She was beyond pissed off about it, how that damned bastard dare think she would take his shit offer graciously. That wasn't the type of girl she was. Who the fuck did Maero think he was? 20% to 80% on her hands and fucking knees? He could suck it for all she cared. Blowing up a few of their sideshow trucks wasn't enough, she had to do more. Send a real message to that bastard.

Once she had what she needed she made her way to the helipad on the other side of the nuclear island and called for Carlos to get his ass down there with a helicopter. He was quick to fulfil her demands and flew out there within a few minutes. She climbed the latter and headed to put the nuclear waste in Maero's tattoo ink before Matt, the Brotherhood's bitch and lead guitarist for the Feed Dogs, got to work on another piece. She grinned, getting it there successfully before heading back to Purgatory.

Take that you tattooed freak…

When she entered in to Purgatory it seemed to be beginning to look better and better. She smiled happily, they were working on making the main lobby and bar look better, replacing the old stuff with brand new. New sofas sat where the old ones used to be and the bar was a dark mahogany wood instead of the brown grainy shit they had before. All new stools lined up in a row with Saints taking a well-deserved break on them, the bar restocked and full of the best alcohol money could buy, and even the floor looked nicer. What work her Saints could do in just a few hours. It made her so proud.

She moved to take a seat on one of the fine new couches, relaxing back as she sunk in to the cushions. The place was buzzing with life, the Saints enjoying their night together. Sylar looked around curiously a moment, trying to spot her Lieutenants, and most importantly…Johnny. But none of them were anywhere to be found. She closed her eyes again, sighing to herself as she rested her head back. She started thinking about when she had first woken up from her coma…