Continued from Buffet Bench

Ow.  Ow ow ow ow ow.

By the time Crow made it back to where he had stashed his belongings, he was considering supporting several crows through the air.  Ow.

A few minutes of whining and whimpering got him reassembled into a single aching form and half-dressed.  He wearily lowered himself down a few branches until he could see that the ground below was clear of passerby, and then dropped his stick.  Climbing down himself was a much slower process, frequently punctuated by pauses and winces, and definitely had him regretting his rashness.  He should have just let the girl keep the sandwich.

His stomach disagreed with that, though, so of course he was now bruised, battered, tired, cold, and starving.  Just another wonderful day in New York City.  He finally made himself drop the last few feet to the ground, though he had to catch himself on one knee.  At least he kept from rolling on a wing; those flared out to balance him awkwardly before the irregular bruising tucked them back in.  He stretched just enough to reclaim his stick and lean heavily on it to stand.  Yup.  Just loving this country.

"Still shy? My boy, we simply must thicken that skin of yours!" Their arrangement was already a week old, and yet Sylar hadn't changed much. No worries, though; all would change given time.

"Perhaps we can form a stratagem? When you find yourself near a crowd, envision them naked! Oh, right, no sight... Hmm... What a thing to ponder... Perhaps some time in the park will get you to relax a little more, though!" He had errands to run in the park anyways; a hot dog vendor had come up with collections, and he was in the area, so he saw no harm in grabbing it himself rather than relying on some silly old middle man.

"You were telling me about your interactions with other mutants... The one that hurt you? Do go on." He was notoriously protective of those he deemed friends, and while he wouldn't necessarily tell Sylar, he did plan to seek retribution for Sylar's pain. Nothing permanent, mind you, perhaps he would have her legs broken or something, provided he got enough information to find her.

They talked for a moment before they reached the park proper, and the crowds gave way to trees and fewer people.

Retrieving the money owed was a simple task, the vendor saw it was them, instantly decided not to try and short them, because oh dear god, and Roach purchased two hot dogs with some of the money. He gave one to Sylar, wore his as a hat, and simply began wandering about the park, looking for something to do.

Holding his hot dog on his head. And looking for something to do.

Sylar followed behind Roach, as he had much in the past week, both keeping an eye on his new friend, and trying to grow accustomed to spending more time on the surface. His hood was up and pulled tight, hiding his face which happened to be much cleaner and healthier since taking Roach's job offer. Sylar was growing attached to Roach, a man who cared for his well being, and offered him friendship freely. At this right Roach might end up a father or brother figure to the sewer boy. "I just...It feels weird to be up top so much is all. I spent years underground ya know." He responded to Roach as he followed him to the park.

Roach went off on one of his speeches about Sylar's condition or attitude, jovial as ever. They approached the park, a place Sylar had been more than once, hunting small game and the rare unlucky deer. Sylar payed attention to the various scents in the air, the earth, the flora, the leftovers from people. But soon the smell of a food cart reached his nose, which perked the boy up from his usual timid demeanor. As they neared the cart, Roach asked about Sylar's encounter with the feisty girl Tses. "Er well she was walking around my tunnels for some reason, pretty close to my ...uh bedroom I guess. So I tried to scare her off." His tail began to swish behind him as they neared the hotdog cart. "She wanted a fight, and well...I kind of threw her around a bit, and she kept hitting me with some kind of explosive power. We both ended up a little roughed up...erm her more than me. I left her over at that big Mansion for Mutants." They found themselves at the cart, where Roach went to his usual work of collecting a payment.

Protection rackets should set off a warning bell for anyone else, but Roach was a good person, who cared about the mutant community. If he took from the normal people for that, who was Sylar to question it. Normal people took more than money from mutants, so it was fair right? Being offered a hot dog sent Sylar's tail into a much faster swaying motion, a sign of his excited state as he devoured the delicious dog. "Thanks Roach." Sylar wasn't really sure what to call Roach besides his name, he'd never had a job before, or a friend to spend so much time with. Maybe he should be calling him Mister, or Boss, but for now just their names sufficed. Nothing too exciting had happened so far, but Sylar was enjoying a much comfier life this past week. He'd have to tell Serena about his new situation sometime soon, she'd be so excited for him, he just knew it.

After Sylar's dog vanished into his fanged maw, he went back to focusing on the scents and forms of the world around himself and Roach. An odd scent was in the air...like a bird...only heavier, like a group of them maybe? "Hmm...I smell something Roach." He said as they walked through the park. "Kinda like birds, or a big one." Generally New York was quite full of pigeons, but this smell was different, especially since it felt more like a person's pheremones.

Crow limped through the trees, leaning a little less on his stick as he adjusted to the pain, but travelled without real purpose or direction. There wasn't any one place he had come to frequent, as he hadn't really been in the city long enough to claim any sort of territory, but moving out of this park before any further retribution followed him seemed like a decent idea.

He was almost back to a more populated part of the park when he caught sight of a rather strange pairing. One figure was distinctly insect-like, and the other had a tail straight out of a horror movie. Crow paused behind an empty bench, leaning against it a little to rest as he watched. They were definitely mutants; the only other explanation was that someone hadn't realized it wasn't Halloween yet, or had maybe escaped from a movie set. This wasn't Hollywood, though. It was New York City. So mutants it was.

They seemed to be fairly well received, though, and they were definitely more dangerous-looking than Crow was, so they probably frequented the area. The thought made Crow even more sheepish about brawling with that mutant girl, even if he really had originally thought she was a human. He was pretty sure he hadn't actually hurt her, though. He really wasn't built for doing a lot of damage.

Whoever the pair were, though, there was no reason to bother them - oh.

The insect guy had a hot dog.

On. His. Head.

Crow swallowed, rather excessively capable of salivating in this form. No. No, he was done for today. He definitely wasn't going to try to nab food from such respectable-looking mutants. He closed his eyes. Even if birds weren't renowned for their sense of smell, he could still smell the fresh hot dog. His stomach raged at him, but he managed to convince himself to turn away and limp in the opposite direction. Away from the food. Oh, the food. Maybe he could win a spot at a restaurant's dumpster tonight.

"I just...It feels weird to be up top so much is all. I spent years underground ya know."

"Well, I must say the top is treating you much better; To think just a week ago you were looking horribly malnourished. What a difference a week makes! Why, any self respecting mutant female would be insane not to send looks of longing your way! Or males, if you prefer, I am one to presume, how rude of me!"

"Er well she was walking around my tunnels for some reason, pretty close to my ...uh bedroom I guess. So I tried to scare her off. She wanted a fight, and well...I kind of threw her around a bit, and she kept hitting me with some kind of explosive power. We both ended up a little roughed up...erm her more than me. I left her over at that big Mansion for Mutants"

"Ah." So, she was one of those... The mansion was really becoming a sort of... torn... in his back side. This woman, in particular, had, by proxy, gotten on the bad side of someone you really didn't want to anger... Still, Sylar did seem as if he didn't want Roach to get revenge for him... Maybe be could let bygones be bygones?

"Hmm...I smell something Roach. Kinda like birds, or a big one."

The giant bug paused, and turned to look about. Typically, Sylar's senses were a little more... precise. It was odd that he was guesstimating so. "Something dangerous, perhaps? Oh, how fun! Shall we seek it out! I must say my new hat is making me feel quite daring!" He pointed at the hot dog, and then smacked his hands together. "Yes! An adventure! Lead the way my stalwart companion!" He spoke in the voice of one Herlbert "Daringest" Dashpine, from Fallup 3. Megan had been playing the game on her S-Box900 a while back, and the character had really stuck.

"What's that?" He saw a shadowy figure sulking away in the distance. Immediately, he skittered off in pursuit.

Sylar had indeed started to put on a bit of weight, though his metabolism was ferocious, keeping the boy lean and muscular, a rather nice physique for someone his age in fact. His face had also lost some of it's hollowed look, going from skeletal, to mildly androgenous. Roach mentioned women...or men noticing his change, to which Sylar responded a bit curtly. "Girls...I like girls...I think." Sylar mumbled the end of that sentence, because he'd never really stopped to think about finding a girlfriend or mate considering his animal nature? Either way, being blind meant physical beauty was basically absent from his mind, which kept any hormones he might have in check. But if he ever wanted one he was pretty sure he'd want a girl.

As their conversation continued, Roach seemed to respond oddly as he explained he previous encounter with the mutant girl Tses. Perhaps Roach was disappointed he'd hurt another mutant even in self defense, he'd have to make sure he acted appropriately now that he was working for Roach. The idea of having a job of any kind, even if it was just for food and a room that didn't smell of sewage. His nose however did pick up something, the smell of birds...or a bird, an odd scent unlike any person in New York it was easy to pick out from the other scents in the park, even the tasty hot dog atop Roach's noggin. Sylar followed his nose, eventually noticing a human shaped image in the distance, moving away from Roach and himself.

He pointed out the scent to Roach, causing his peculiar friend to respond happily. Generally something dangerous wasn't something to be joyous about. "Roach, if I'm your bodyguard I think possibly dangerous isn't something to do!" He exclaimed as he followed after Roach towards the Crow. Sylar quickly caught up to Roach, while trying to discern what he could about Crow from a distance. The man smelt of bird and man mixed together, a mutant? Clearly a mutant, normal humans didn't have wings either, or at least something like wings. Sylar again tried to reproach Roach. "Roach, we shouldn't just approach some other mutant, or bird creature, or whoever." He sighed, knowing he couldn't stop his new friend, but he'd have to follow him anyways to make sure he lived up to what Roach expected of their arrangement and friendship.

As empty as his taunted stomach was, maybe it would be better to just find somewhere to sleep that wasn't too uncomfortable. Heck, he'd take cold and drafty as long as it was soft right now. Something that didn't push against or into his bruises. He definitely had bruises. He didn't think any bird-bones were broken, but bruises, ooooh yes. So very yes. There was absolutely no arguing on the bruises front, except possibly from his very smug left foot. It hadn't been touched. Except now he was walking on it more because his right foot throbbed all along the inside of its current form.

Walking sticks were great. You could lean on them and spread out your weight when walking-limbs were pained, although applying the weight was a bit difficult when the non-walking limbs were equally pained. His gripping hand wasn't too bad, though. He could flex his fingers, at least.

Bird didn't have great senses of smell. Their ears weren't horrible, though, and it seemed that those following him weren't trying to be quiet. He paused, also because he needed to stand on his left leg for a bit and give everything a break. He stretched his less-bruised wing out to the nearest tree to balance and looked behind him.

The insect-guy and stabby-tail-guy - wait, stabby-tail-kid? - were not travelling the same course as they had been. They were definitely coming towards him. He rubbed his face - gently, for he could see the white right wing spreading across the side of his face was already purpling, thanks to the swelling that helpfully angled some of it into view - and sighed. An innocent interest in him? A couple of deranged lunatics? As much as he wanted to think so, not all mutants were decent people. People who had an interest in caring for this area and had seen his scuffle with the human-looking mutant girl?

... He really hoped it wasn't that. He could only apologize so much for the mistake, though, since he definitely had kept trying after it was obvious he'd misjudged the girl. Whatever they wanted, though, he was not outrunning anyone. Maaaybe outflying, as least with enough of himself to survive... theoretically. Still. Wait and face it, or keep going? He really didn't feel like chatting or getting more beaten up right now... except nope, that foot was appreciating its break too much. He tried to look calm and slightly bored and entirely aware of the approaching pair and not in the sort of pain he was actually in. And to not stare at the hotdog. Yeah. That too.

Oh, how Sylar did sometimes sound like the parent's from peanuts when he insisted on protecting him. He appreciated it, truly, but he really had to imbue the young lad with a sense of adventure!

"Roach, we shouldn't just approach some other mutant, or bird creature, or whoever."

"Hah! My boy, If I were averse to approaching the unknown I would not have walked into an alley last week! I think that turned out quite tell, don't you?" He nodded his head stiffly, nearly losing his dog hat in the process.

The giant bug then danced into the vicinity of the big birdy question mark, somehow maintaining the perilously perched item of... clothing's perilous perch.

He stopped in his tracks when the being finally came into good enough view. "Sylar, my boy, let it never be said that stepping toward danger is without it's rewards... You there! Let me have a look at you, will you?" He spoke as if the colony that was Crow had a choice in the matter as he skittered on up, and leaned in to stare at him for a moment.

"My oh my... These patterns. Interesting... Oh! And those wings! Sylar, now that we are closer, what do you smell? What do you see?" Roach sniffed the man before him. "Hmm... Smells like hot dog... Odd..." It might be important to point out that as he did all of this, the 'hat' would be rather close to crow's face. Still warm. Still delicious looking.

"Young man, I simply must introduce myself and my companion! I go by Roach, and this, Is the Predator! Might we know who you are?" Was he being shockingly friendly? Why yes, Yes he was! It may be a bit unsettling!

Sylar knew trying to be logical with Roach on a topic such as this was a fool's errand. His timid nature was still quite strong, and being told he was a bodyguard made him even more cautious when out and about with Roach. Roach pointed out that caution would have lead Roach to avoid Sylar about a week ago, which was a good point. But still, an unknown was an unknown, a predator never entered a fight it couldn't and wasn't sure it would win. And that's how Sylar viewed most situations. "There's a such thing as running out of luck Roach." Sylar bemoaned as the pair approached Crow.

Roach came upon Crow and immediately greeted him with his cheery words and demeanor, which were quite a lot to take in at first. You never expected the giant cockroach to act like a British gentleman and have a craving for social banter. Roach observed things about Crow that Sylar couldn't see, and then asked for his unique input. "I see a man...with wings. And I smell birds...definitely not pigeons. Maybe a crow?" Sylar mused aloud, his lifestyle didn't have the chance to encounter that many birds without spooking the creatures, so his ability to judge species by scent was limited to mostly city birds, and most of those were pigeons which smell a lot like rats with wings.

As Roach introduced the two of them to Crow, Sylar stood behind Roach, maybe by a foot with his arms crossed and showing his own physical changes. His hands encased beneath obsidian claws, and a large tail swaying behind him, tipped with a blade like a scorpion's. His face however was hidden beneath his usual hood, preventing a read of his emotions from facial expression, or the sight of his alien eyes. "We're mutants too." There was little other explanation for what Crow was, and obviously both Roach and Sylar were mutants as well, but might as well aid in creating a "friendly" situation between all of them. "He's a bit...off but Roach has good intentions." Sylar defended his boss as they met Crow for the first time.

The approaching pair certain seemed jovial today, so if they were out to exert authority they were probably quite sadistic. What a wonderful day.

And then the food-decorated mutant was right in front of him and talking and oh dear shiny lord of all things holy the hotdog was right in his face.

He would be good. He would behave himself. He wouldn't snatch it. There was no way he could get out of there - current condition or perfectly healthy - and he wasn't keen on getting pummeled again. Or stabbed by that scorpion tail the other guy had... yes, that was the trick! Focus on the people focus on the people oh no he was staring at the hot dog again focus on the people.

Yes. People. Who were talking. And apparently not particularly interested in continuing that girl's work. That was good. Okay. Foooooocus. He wasn't good at focusing. He had to try. Focusfocusfocus.

Roach and Predator? Even if they hadn't so obviously been mutants, their names would have sealed the deal. Or shown them to be psychotic nutters. Best to go with mutants. He went by Crow, after all. Who was he to judge? There was a distinct honesty to mutant names. He swallowed to try to get the hot dog smell out of his nose and mouth but it just reminded him of how much it was making him salivate. He swallowed again. "Crow," he said by way of introduction. He blinked at the scorpion-guy, er, Predator. "We have a few too many remaining toes to be a pigeon, although some of us were hanging out with some earlier. Might be what you smell."

He tore his eyes away from the hotdog again and pointedly twitched a few aching muscles near the loudest proponents of snatching it. As nice as these two seemed to be, if a little odd in the whole food-wearing thing, it was getting really hard to keep himself together. Literally. He could even feel the slight fuzziness in his right arm as the different birds there argued and squirmed. The will of the group held them together for the moment, though.

"There's a such thing as running out of luck Roach." Roach spun in mid step and quipped without a moment's pause.

"that's what I have you for, my boy!"

And then they were on the scene.

"I see a man...with wings. And I smell birds...definitely not pigeons. Maybe a crow?" Roach looked back to his companion, and nodded thoughtfully as the man confirmed by stating his name. "Crow."

"Already, he has a real name! Lovely, simply lovely!"

"We have a few too many remaining toes to be a pigeon, although some of us were hanging out with some earlier. Might be what you smell."

He perked up again, and his hat nearly fell off, turning to look at the 'we' a little closer. That's when he realized how intently the mutant was looking back.

Was the winged one staring? Oh my, he was, wasn't he? At the beautiful antennae perched atop his noggin, one marred by an officer's gunshot? No... His focus was a little lower... Odd... Oh well! "We, he says! We, Sylar! We! Tell me, Crow, might you be... a 'we'?" He placed his hands together by the finger tips, twiddling them against each other in a deductive pose; clearly, he was thrilled.

"He's a bit...off but Roach has good intentions."

"Oh, never mind him, Crow, he's simply not learned a real sense of adventure, yet. Sooner or later I'll rub off on him... Also, you seem quite interested in my hat... May I ask why?" He pointed at the hot dog on his head.

Sylar kept his senses focused on Crow, as well as the surrounding area, being topside always made him nervous. Roach however couldn't be more delighted to meet another mutant, perhaps that's why his pitch for recruitment had worked with Sylar, experience. Roach jokingly pointed out Sylar was here in case something went wrong, and Sylar refrained from pointing out he'd prefer to just avoid such a situation. Some might call his personality or attitude cowardly, but in nature if you couldn't the fight, there was no shame in running away. After all, the only thing that mattered is that you got away either way.

He informed Roach of his own deductions, assuming Roach could figure out plenty on his own since he could actually see and was...quite good at preening information with his jovial attitude. So the man called himself Crow, a fitting name, though all mutant names seemed much more descriptive and obvious than normal human names. After all you couldn't tell much about Steve because he was called Steve. But call someone a Roach when they're a giant talking Roach? Now that was a no nonsense moniker. Crow's way of speaking was odd, he kept using the term we, was he some type of collective creature? Sylar couldn't really tell since everyone was basically a humanoid orange blob to his eyes.

Roach pointed this out as well, to which Sylar replied. "Haven't met anybody like that...but I mean it's something that could happen I guess?" Sylar mumbled his words with a hollow tone, his own sense of curiosity not very great at the moment. Sylar wanted to take this bodyguard thing seriously, since Roach had put trust in him. Roach rebuked him as he commented on his intentions. "A sense of adventure doesn't feed you or keep you alive Roach. A sense of caution did." Sylar in turn rebuked his friend, though it was true, he'd only met Roach because of the man's insatiable curiosity. Roach then questioned Crow about him staring at Roach's hat. What hat? Oh wait, hadn't he put a hot dog up there? "He's probably hungry, it's taking a lot of will power not to eat the dang hot dog you've been holding onto myself." Sylar mumbled under his breath.

A real name? Ah, so these were that kind of mutant. Interesting and appreciated.

THE HOTDOG MOVED.

IT ALMOST FELL OFF.

These two observations were effectively simultaneous, and resulted in a few more moments of fixated staring. Oh right oh right be polite don't get beaten up respond somewhat intelligently.

"We, yes." He gestured at his various bird-markings, most of them visible in all their (increasingly and irregularly bruised) glory since he was too sore to do more than tie the arms of his coveralls around his waist. Twisting to get the arms on, even with the clothing backwards (which they weren't at the moment) would have just been too painful. He could handle the temperature during the day, though. Anyway. "Each of these is us. We don't have to stay together, but it is usually easier to do things cooperatively."

The younger, hooded mutant - Predator - was definitely not as confident and outgoing as Roach, but he did seem to have a proper appreciation for being taunted by food. Crow shot him a relieved glance. "We... have not been here long enough to know where to find food well in this city in this season," he admittedly slowly, running the blades of his bone-feather necklace between his fingertips to try to distract himself, "which is normally compounded but currently eased by our rather weak sense of smell." He tapped his nose, realized too late that he was aiming for one of his young bruises, and winced at the contact. Idiot.

"We, yes."

"Hah! Brilliant! Simply brilliant!" He danced about gleefully for a moment, and then turned to Sylar, who was already speaking.

"A sense of adventure doesn't feed you or keep you alive Roach. A sense of caution did."

"Oh, but how can one claim to be alive without ever having lived! I understand your plight, but as your friend, I beseech you, Predator, allow me to put caution on the back burner that I might make your job harder, and thus, much more interesting!" He chuckled, and turned back to Crow.

"Each of these is us. We don't have to stay together, but it is usually easier to do things cooperatively."

Roach leaned in again, eyeing one of the birds closely. "A collective... Hivemind. As a collective, you share the same consciousness? You are as unique and amazing as my friend here!"

"He's probably hungry, it's taking a lot of will power not to eat the dang hot dog you've been holding onto myself."

Roach glanced back at Sylar, tilted his head a bit in momentary confusion, and then perked up.

"We... have not been here long enough to know where to find food well in this city in this season, which is normally compounded but currently eased by our rather weak sense of smell."

"Oh, yes! My hat! I do apologize. It is my nature to decorate myself in objects I find interesting at the moment. Do partake~" He tilted his head forward so that the dog could be easily grasped, and in doing so, spotted a discoloration on one of the birds.

"It appears... Some of you are hurt... What happened?" As if caught in mid thought, he held up a finger, and turned to Sylar. "You see, Predator! This is why I do what I do... Injured, alone, without food. We can help this Murder! Crow, what would you do if I told you I could take you to a place where they will provide food, clothing, hot showers, and a warm, safe place to sleep? Also, if you could answer the first question I interrupted so rudely!"

Sylar shrugged as Roach "apologized" for being so enthusiastic over meeting crow. "A week with you Roach and I'm already stressed, guess I have to get used to it." Sylar said with not amount of enthusiasm. So this Crow was made up of many crows, an interesting mutation to say the least. Sylar was pretty sure just one of him was enough, he couldn't imagine dealing with a bunch of sewer monsters. As Roach's inquiry into Crow's well being continued without a hint of delay, he listened to Sylar's suggestion that Crow was hungry, offering the fellow mutant a tasty hot dog.

A bit of envy set in Sylar's stomach, which never ever seemed to be fully statisfied, even after Roach had filled him to the brim with free food over the past week. "How you think to use a hot dog as a hat...I'll never understand." Sylar was a homeless, devolving, monstrous alien sewer creature...and yet he'd found employ beneath someone more peculiar than himself. Was every other mutants life as odd as his own?

Sylar's vision couldn't make out injuries on crow, at least not without paying more attention to his form. Depending on the wound the thermal image would break up or brighten in areas, but he'd only been giving a cursory glance. Must be bruising or something obvious to the naked eye he figured. Roach did make a point though, as he glared over the injured hungry Crow, his insatiable urge to poke his nose around is how he met Sylar, and now Crow. "I get it Roach, I was a stray too. I'm just worried about when we meet the stray that bites." Sylar mumbled, hiding the truth that he was happy to know Roach cared about their kind. The mutant community so far had been very kind to Sylar, giving him a soft spot for his fellow mutant. He might not have the resources or patience to help others, but knowing he wans't the only unlucky mutant receiving aid made him feel good somewhere in his gut. Or maybe he was just hungry again.

Roach was already offering Crow shelter and food, making Sylar ponder just how vast Roach's resources were to do such things on a whim. "How many of us do you intend to fit into your apartment Roach?" Sylar questioned coldly just wondering if Crow was about to become his new room mate as Sylar had only himself taken the same offer from Roach this very week.