crack_van | Wannabes by Nope (15+)

Hi, everyone, my name's

ashedrake and I'll be your Heroes driver for the month! I'm mainly an m/m slasher and a huge Sylar girl, so you know what to expect, but I can promise you I have a variety of goodies lined up for you. So sit back, relax and remember to fasten your seat belts.

Fandom: HEROES
Pairing: Gen
Length: 12930 words
Author on LJ:

nopejr
Author Website: Nopespace

Why this must be read: Wannabes is an alternate universe story that veers off from and runs parallel to canon from "I am Sylar" with Micah trying to turn Sylar and himself into heroes. Written for

heroes_bigboom this story is something very unique: a long, intricate, plot-based gen fic with one of the less seen characters on the show in a starring role. It keeps true to the feel of volume 4 to the smallest details, the original characters are convincing and compelling, and

nopejr makes use of very intelligent twists to bring loose threads back in. Every character brought in, even the ones we hardly get to see, are given consistent motivations and are very IC.

It definitely twists your heart strings and makes your head spin with a plot that has a strong character study of Micah and takes a deeper look into what it means to be a hero when "hero" is just the flipside of the coin to "villain". Sylar sums it up neatly and echoes earlier seasons with the words "You're a hero. You don't get the luxury of regret."

Make sure to take a look at

togsos' cover art as well.

(The world is full of machines. In a car in the Nevada desert, miles from anywhere, Micah could hear Vegas in his sleep, singing him lullabies. In D.C. it's orchestras, Philharmonic gone digital, cyber-reverb, techno overdub; 3G phones sing out in joyful chorus over the bass clicks of the switching stations, the iron hum of the trains, the clattering chatter of the departure boards, the tourist laptop drums and watch-tick snares. It's too loud in his head, thrumming in him, but Micah doesn't care. It's glorious. How could anyone think this would be overkill?

He finds the most crowded rack of phones and picks one in the middle, resting with his back to the security camera. It winks at him. The phone clicks a demand for money in his ear. He caresses its silver body until it purrs. Jungle sounds, now, squawking phones, roaring engines, wires rustling like vines. His is the India of Mowgli and Kim, of Kaa and the Bander-log, of Shere Khan burning brightly in the dark. He hides in the noise and lets his fingers dial for him. Country code, exchange, area, 926-6223.

It's like being made of water, just flowing along. It's like being made of spirit. Ghost in the machine.

There's a connection. A click. No one speaks, but he can hear held breath. Good girl, he thinks, and says, "Molly. It's me. The line's clean.")

Wannabes