You Drive Me Crazy

Written by Anakin McFly

"Oh look," Peter said as he turned the wheel a hard left and skidded the car around the corner. "It's the wall again."

"This isn't funny, Peter," Sylar said from the backseat through teeth gritted in extreme discomfort. "I really, really need to use the bathroom."

"Should have thought of that before killing people serially, huh?" Peter said. "Too bad. You're staying here."

"Peter-"

"I could say that I feel your pain, but as you know I just don't give a shit anymore. Or urinate."

"That's a stupid power."

"Yeah, but you wish you had it now, don't you?" Peter smirked. "Enjoying your nightmare?"

"Why can't I get out of here?" Sylar demanded.

Peer shrugged as he sped the car down the empty street. "Maybe you don't really want to. Maybe you secretly like being here with me." The side of his mouth quirked upwards in a grin.

"Let me go."

"Nah. Want some music?" Peter flicked on the car radio. Britney Spears came on at full blast. Peter started singing along. Sylar winced, more at Peter's singing than at the actual song, which he kind of liked but would never admit to.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know..."

"What do you want, Peter?"

"That something wasn't right here..."

"Peter!"

"Oh baby baby, I shouldn't have - hi wall! - you go..."

"Peter, you can't sing."

"Huh, it's not like you can sing any better or you would have joined in by now. ...Show me how you want - hey, you hungry?" Peter pulled open the glove compartment. A box of donuts fell out. Parkman's influence was far-reaching.

"No."

Peter grabbed a donut and chewed on it and realised that this was hard to do while singing Britney Spears songs, but he carried on anyway. "'Y 'on'iness... is 'illing 'ee..."

"You can't keep driving forever."

"I 'UST 'ON'ESS, I 'ILL 'E'EIVE...”

Sylar raised a finger.

Peter swallowed and looked at him through the rear-view mirror. "What are you going to do, slice my head open? Aww, that's right. Your powers don't work here."

Sylar lowered his finger and glared.

"HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"

Peter flicked off the radio. "...And you can't even empathise with me," he said, "because how are you going to empathise with a guy who doesn't need to give a shit? You know... in your current state and all."

Sylar had progressed to curling up in the backseat in pain as he glared at Peter.

"This is my world!" he yelled. "MY WORLD!"

"Free your mind," Peter said.

Silence.

"The Matrix is cool," Sylar said.

"The best," Peter agreed.

Silence.

Part of the wall came into view again.

"Let me out, Peter."

"I don't think so, Gabriel."

Silence.

"My name is Sylar."

"So's your watch."

"It's a cool name. You're just jealous."

"Doesn't change the fact you named yourself after a watch."

Silence.

"Peter, please, I really need to go-"

"Ohoho. Begging now, Casio?"

"..."

"Well, Rolex, that's not good enough for me. Not until I know you're really sorry. Say hi to the wall."

"I hate you," Sylar said.

"That's not nice," Peter said.

"You're not being nice."

Peter shrugged and turned the radio on to another channel.

"Nothing is real," John Lennon sang.

"No need to get hung about," Peter joined in, out of tune, swinging the wheel round for another tortuous loop of the city. "Strawberry. Fields. Forever."

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