Extinct
Disclaimer: I don't own NBC or Heroes…not yet….bwahahahahaha.
The bold words are foreign language
The Haitian and Noah Bennett. An airport in Ukraine
"You shouldn't have done that," said the Haitian, as he shook his head in shame.
"If that's what it takes to save Claire, then I will do so. Sometimes in order to win, you gotta break the rules," said Noah Bennett, as he cleaned his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Ever still, imagine that you were killed by your old friend. Imagine being threatened to lose Sandra, lose Lyle, and lose Claire-"
"Shut up!" yelled Mr. Bennett, as he looked angrily at the Haitian. Did he not understand that it was not easy for him to kill and torture his former best friend?
"You think, I enjoy this? Do you honestly think I am a murderer? I didn't want to kill Ivan! I didn't like seeing him in pain. But you know what? I honestly don't give a damn what anyone thinks, as long as my family is safe from sickos like him!" shouted Bennett in fury, as he glared at the Haitian. Despite the yelling, the man from Haiti stayed calm and emotionless, as he just stared back at Bennett with a cold-anger approach. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses immediately calmed down.
"Look, I'm sorry, I've just been going through a lot of crap lately," apologized Bennett, as he sat down on a chair and put his hand on his face.
"Don't worry Mr. Bennett, your daughter Claire will be safe. For now, we will worry about those pictures that Isaac Mendez has drawn?" asked The Haitian as he carefully studied them.
"We should call Dr. Suresh. That would be the best option…as long as he doesn't tell the Company," joked Bennett before realizing right now wasn't the time to play games. He picked up his cell phone and called the Indian geneticist.
Somewhere in Houston, Texas…….
"Man, you're a really good shredder," said Mike Jones, the drummer of the thrash metal band "Killzone". "I think you're in," repeated the drummer, as he gave Jason DeCarlo the "Dio" sign.
"Yes!" yelled Jason, as he high-fived Mike. It had been his dream to play lead guitar for a band since he was 8 years old. Now 16 years later, he had done what he had been practicing years for. His parents would never let him go into music, his dad was a lawyer and his mom was a CEO for a software company. They had continuously scoffed at his idea of becoming a rock star, but now it had come true.
Jason was a tall 7 foot Bostonian man who looked very intimidating. At glance he looked like the typical "tough" punk kid from the block. He had greasy, black, long hair and his eyes wore a look of evil, as they were black like the sky at night. Black was Jason's favorite color, his guitars were black, his shirts were black, his hats were black, and his pants were black. Yes, that was one word to describe everything about Jason besides his skin color: black.
However beneath that exterior, Jason was really a very trusting kid. He loved his family immensely, cared for his friends, and was very noble. Whenever there was trouble around, Jason would find out who was causing that trouble and put an end to it.
"Alright, Mike, I gotta go! See ya!" yelled Jason, as he walked out the door. He put on his black sunglasses and rode his motorcycle to his house.
New York City 2008
"Peter, where are we?" asked Caitlin, as her eyes looked all over the place. New York City looked completely empty…in a creepy kind of way. Instead of seeing cars everywhere, all she could see was nothing. It was like taking the sound out of a beautiful singer and replacing it with silence.
"From what it looks like, we're in New York City, 2008," said Peter Petrelli, as he glanced around him. Where had all the people gone? Where had all the cars gone? And most importantly, what the bloody hell is this evacuation notice for? Thought Peter, as he searched around the place.
"Pete, I don't like it here. Let's go back," said Caitlin, as she hugged onto Peter's body.
"I…don't know…but whatever it is, we gotta find out what happened," confirmed Peter, as he took Caitlin and walked into a dark alleyway of New York City.
Right into the alleyway, he heard a There's that bitch.
"Who said that?" yelled Peter, as he protectively hugged Caitlin.
"Pete..No one said anything…what's happening?" asked her, as she cried and held on to Peter.
Relax…you know who I am Peter. I know you can hear whatever the hell I am saying. This isn't a time for joking. I don't joke before I kill.
"COME OUT! SHOW YOURSELF!" screamed Peter, as he telekinetically slammed a dumpster into a wall. Caitlin screamed, as she tugged onto him.
Listen Petrelli, I'm dead serious. I killed that foolish blonde girl already along with that stupid Spanish man. Your little friend over her is-
"Come out you coward! Fight like a man!" yelled Peter, as he shot a blast of electric energy from his hands.
Do not interrupt ME PETRELLI!Screamed the voice inside Peter's head, as Peter fell to the ground in pain. He clutched his head in pain, and could feel his mind about to blow up.
"Now, say goodbye to your pathetic little girl!" yelled the voice this time, as Caitlin had enough. As she tried to run away, she could feel darkness surround her.
"Help me PETER!" yelled Caitlin, as she was shrouded by darkness, while it muffled her voice.
"CAITLIN!!"yelled Peter, as he ran towards the darkness.
Too late
All of a sudden the darkness disappeared, and Peter could see Caitlin lying on the ground.
"CAITLIN!!!!!NOOOO!" yelled Peter while running towards her side. Tears poured from Peter's eyes like water leaking from a pipe.
When Peter twisted Caitlin's face to reveal what happened, the effect was gruesome.
Replacing her eyes were pale, white eyes, as she looked blank on the sidewalk. In fact, her whole body looked completely lifeless, like a statue. That's what it seemed like for 5 seconds before an even more gruesome event occurred.
Suddenly, Caitlin's head exploded like balloon, as blood rained everywhere. Replacing her head was just dark blood, and her brains were splattered all over the floor.
All of a sudden everything came back to Peter. He remembered everything…Sylar…Claire…Nathan…Mohinder…everything was coming back to him!
"Sylar, come out of there, and fight, you spineless bastard!" challenged Peter, and his body disappeared in an instant. Peter remembered his abilities. Now was the time to use them.
A man wearing a dark trenchcoat and dark pants came out of the black alley. His hair was all ruffled up, like some sort of serial killer, and his eyes were cold and threatening. There was nothing safe or trusting about this man.
"You know I'm not Sylar…he has been taken care of. And you know that little trick doesn't work with me," said the man, as a black cloud surrounded him and slowly covered the whole place.
For a while, everything seemed alright, but Peter couldn't see anything after 5 seconds. His vision was completely blurred, as the only thing he could see was complete darkness.
"What's wrong Peter? Afraid of the dark?" taunted the murderer, as more darkness surrounded them. "I can see perfectly fine."
Slowly, Peter was beginning to lose all his senses. His vision came first, and next came his hearing. All he could hear was complete silence, as he screamed in agony. Slowly and painfully, he lost his sense of taste, and afterwards he couldn't feel anything.
Then came the worst part: his smell. Replacing the smell of fresh air was the scent of foul, disgusting air, the type of air that surrounds corpses. Peter coughed violently, as blood spewed from his nose and mouth, gushing out more of it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" screamed Peter, as the never ending torture seemed to go on. He felt as if he was being stabbed by nine thousand knives at once, yet he wouldn't die. Peter wished he had just died right then and right now. Death was nothing compared to this.
"What? You want me to stop? Okay," replied the man, as the darkness instantly vanished. Peter woke up from the torment, gasping for fresh air.
"You deserved that Petrelli. Your whole family deserved that," said the killer, as he picked up Peter and threw him into a wall. Peter looked beat up, as blood spewed from all parts of his body. He was bruised, and beat up, as his body looked pale, as if he lost all of his blood.
"I always knew you were nothing but a weak, thorn in my side," said the man, as he prepared to finish off Petrelli.
"That's where you're wrong." said a man with a striking resemblance to Peter, as he telekinetically slammed the trenchcoat man into a dumpster.
The trenchcoat man got up and said, "Wait..If you're Peter…who the hell is he?" as he pointed a bloody finger at Peter.
"Peter, get back to the past!" yelled Future Peter, as he shot a nuclear blast at the trenchcoat man.
"Try harder, Petrelli!" yelled the villain, as he vanished into the darkness.
"Run Peter! You need to warn Nathan and everyone!" screamed Future Peter, as he prepared to run into the darkness.
"But, I don't know how-"
"Fine! I'll get you there!" yelled Future Peter, as he grabbed his hand. Unfortunately, while concentrating, the trenchcoat man had enough and darkness surrounded them.
"Just GO! I'll die anyways!" yelled Future Peter, as he was surrounded by darkness.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" yelled Peter, witnessing his own future self die. He could hear himself (well, his future self) scream in agony, as his body fell to the ground, lifeless like Caitlin.
"You're next!" yelled the trenchcoat man, as he summoned the darkness.
Peter found himself in a hurry, as he disappeared from the scene and left New York City.
Whitebeard's Camp. Japan, 1671. Hiro Nakamura, Yaeko, and Takezo Kensei.
"Kensei, how could you do this to me? I loved you," said Yaeko, as she cried massively. Never the less, Takezo Kensei remained stern and cold.
"How could you do this to me? And to think you were my future wife. You and Hiro…you're both disgusting. You cut me in a way that I cannot heal from. How dare you ask me what I am doing," said Kensei, as he sat down on the ground.
"You…Hiro…your father…you can all go to hell. I really don't care anymore," repeated Kensei, and he walked away in shame.
"Kensei, you must stop this! It was only once. You must save Japan for the good of the future," said Hiro, looking like a child caught lying.
"DO YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT THE FUTURE?" yelled an outraged Kensei, as he drew his katana, and put it on Hiro's neck. Yaeko gasped, as she tried all she could not to faint.
"I don't give a bloody damn about you future. Am I going to be alive? The answer is no. So, you know what? You and your…little…unmentionable friend…I could care less what happens to you," whispered Kensei, and he drew back his katana.
A guard came into the room and bowed to Kensei's feet. He rolled his eyes, as the guard showed utmost respect towards him.
"Kensei Takezo! Whitebeard has decided the fate of the prisoners. They are to die tomorrow in execution."
"What? Death? But I thought they were to-"
"Listen Kensei…I know these are your former friends, but they deserve to die. Remember what they did to you?"
Kensei stayed quiet and glared at Hiro. Hate filled up in his eyes, as his glare at Hiro was enough to kill a man. At that moment, Hiro wished that he had resisted the temptation to kiss Yaeko.
Breaking the silence was a man that was beat up, appearing out of nowhere.
"Peter…Petrelli!" yelled Hiro, as he ran by Peter's side.
"Ugh…where am I?" asked Peter, as he tried to get up. All of a sudden, his injuries began to disappear. He looked at Kensei.
"No…it can't be…I thought I was the only one," said the warrior, as he drew his sword and pointed it at Peter.
New York City. Mohinder Suresh
"Mohinder, we got the drawings," said Bennett on the phone, as Mohinder picked up the phone.
"What are they?" asked the Indian geneticist, as he paced back and forth throughout the apartment.
"Well, the first one has Kaito Nakamura's death-"
"Yes, yes, I know-"
"Let me speak, Dr. Suresh. The second one seems to depict Claire lying on some sort of stairs. Someone is holding a vial in the third painting, while a blond woman is banging on an object in the fourth. The next one seems to depict some guy with a scar in some sort of cell, and the sixth one shows some sort of Samurai fight, I don't know. And we know what the last one is," said Mr. Bennett as there was a moment of silence. The thought of his own death seemed to haunt him, particularly in some a gruesome way.
"So…where is Molly?" asked Bennett, breaking the silence.
"Listen, I don't know what's happening to her, but whatever it is, Matt and Nathan are on the move for it. Also, the Company has recruited me a partner, some blonde woman called Niki."
"That's good news, but as for your partner...be careful, otherwise everything we've worked for will all go to waste. Here, I'll send you the paintings via mobile phone, and I'll talk to you later," finished Bennett, as he hung up the phone.
Mohinder shook his head, and looked at the pictures. They were exactly as Bennett had depicted, but something seemed missing…as if it was on purpose.
Matt and Nathan walked into the apartment, catching him by surprise, as Mohinder drew his pistol.
"For Christ's sake Mohinder, you don't have to be so paranoid," said a calm Matt Parkman, as he attempted to read Mohinder's thoughts.
At that instant, he heard some very dirty words go through Mohinder's head on how they scared him and how they should be more cautious.
"Sorry," said Matt, as he took a seat on the ground. "Any news on Molly?" asked Matt.
"I'm sorry, but she's in the Company's hands right now," said a shame-faced Mohinder.
"She's WHAT?" asked Matt angrily while glaring at Mohinder.
"What else was I supposed to do? There was no one else who could help her! She was a sick girl, and no one else could have helped her!" stated an angry Mohinder. He had already gotten enough scolding from Bennett. The last thing he needed was some police officer on his case.
"Okay, calm down. My father is Molly's nightmare man, but he's not the killer," stated the NYPD officer while eating a bag of popcorn.
"Speaking of killer, something tells me your friend Bob over here is next," stated Nathan, taking out a picture of Bob's face with the symbol on it.
"My god…what should I do about it?" asked Mohinder blankly. For all he cared, Bob could go die. He was not trustable, certainly not likeable, and ruthless, just like the rest of The Company.
"I guess that means the killer has the same intentions as us," stated Nathan, scratching his chin.
"If the killer went for Bob, the whole Company would go down. Bob is the financial resource for The Company; if he died, they would go bankrupt. Ever still, I cannot let a murderer go loose," affirmed Mohinder, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's for the better. Sooner or later this guy is going to bring down The Company. But something tells me, he's got more ideas. And that's not necessarily good one, either," stated the former Congress candidate, putting his hand on the Indian's shoulder.
"If you ask me, this guy definitely did this for revenge. That was what Angela, your mom said. This guy has some sort of intention of vengeance. Whatever the Company did in the past, he didn't like. I say we see what happens," debated Matt.
"But what could have the Company done in the-"
At that moment Mohinder's cell phone rang. He picked it up.
"Hello?"
Mohinder heard a voice crying. It sounded strangely like Niki.
"Niki, whats-"
"Bob…he's dead. They killed him!"
"Niki, that's horrible! What happened?" A look of concern surrounded Mohinder's face. Sure he had disrespected Bob, but for this to happen? What did he deserve?
"Some black hooded guy came in and shot Bob. I don't know what happened, but Bob fell down dead. I tried to go after the killer…but he just got away using some portal thing! Oh no…"
Mohinder was completely shocked.
"Don't worry Niki, I'll be there," said the geneticist, while running out of the apartment.
"Mohinder! MOHINDER!" yelled Matt as he chased after the Indian. Nathan followed just behind him.
Somewhere In Houston
Jason heard the door knocking, as he woke up from his bed. When he reached the door, he saw two Spanish siblings and one American man.
"Please, let us stay for the…night," said Sylar as he studied Jason.
THE END
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