It's almost impossible to see in the dark; even more so to tell what any of the shapes really are.
Until the lightning tears across the blackness, that is, leaving the stench of scorched ozone hanging in the air.
(There's no rain; not with this storm, not yet.)
The man standing there watching him doesn't seem to have any difficulty seeing through the shadows, though, to judge from the intensity of his focus. Each bolt, each flash through the sky is oddly reflected from the new hardness in Frank Black's eyes, which are fixed on Sylar.
"Your name doesn't matter." There's a rough, dangerous certainty in the low gravel of his voice.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-02-10 06:41 am (UTC)Until the lightning tears across the blackness, that is, leaving the stench of scorched ozone hanging in the air.
(There's no rain; not with this storm, not yet.)
The man standing there watching him doesn't seem to have any difficulty seeing through the shadows, though, to judge from the intensity of his focus. Each bolt, each flash through the sky is oddly reflected from the new hardness in Frank Black's eyes, which are fixed on Sylar.
"Your name doesn't matter." There's a rough, dangerous certainty in the low gravel of his voice.
"I know who you are."