Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Young Avengers.

Author's Note: This is set pre-second season of Heroes (before the whole Ireland thing), and before Issue #9 of Young Avengers. Enjoy!

Havoc and Heroism
Chapter One: Sometimes It's Fated


Billy Kaplan and Teddy Altman
New York, New York

The first conscious thing Teddy Altman heard was scattered whispers. His eyelids squinted open to slits and saw nothing but watery shadows. A million thoughts rushed throughout his mind, but one shone brighter than others: What the hell happened?

Teddy's eyes fluttered open, revealing many pairs of anxious and wide ones staring right back at him. A strong, bright light blazed before his eyes. He thought he had seen Billy, but before he could take a reasonable guess of that and what was causing the blinding flash, the faces of his biology classmates reappeared. Teddy furrowed his brow and attempted to sit up but the room spun faster and faster with every shift of his muscular body. The bell signaling the next class sounded off, echoing quite loudly through his eardrums.

Teddy held onto an ice pack a woman in obnoxious cartoon scrubs—who he guessed was the school nurse—was supporting against his sweat-lined forehead. He scrunched his nose, smelling the repulsive formaldehyde of the day's assigned dissection.

"I must be allergic," Teddy grumbled. His voice continued to echo as if he had screamed in a cavern.

"To what?" the nurse said with worry tangible in her voice, hoping he could have at least fainted from the formaldehyde.

"High school." The nurse smirked at Teddy's remark. She stood up and helped Teddy stand as well.

Before they crossed the threshold of the classroom and headed to the clinic, the nurse stopped and said, "You know, that was the fifth time this semester that you've had one of these...collapses. You really need to see a doctor."

"I know, I know," Teddy replied, running his fingers through his disheveled blond hair. He was irritated at the fact that it had to be at least the hundredth time he'd heard that.

According to the brilliant clinic staff, Teddy was "ill" enough to stay in the clinic for the rest of the school day. This, of course, had its pros and cons: for one thing, he didn't have to go to class, so he could think about exactly what had gone on, in terms of what had could have possibly caused his collapse. Yet, there were a few tests that he needed to take before the day was out, never mind making up the dissection lab. But Teddy worried about neither and decided to catch up on well needed sleep, only to dream about his vision.

After what seemed like a few minutes, another school nurse attempted to wake him. "Teddy!" she squeaked, lightly shaking his shoulder.

Teddy turned on his other side and mumbled, "Comebacklatermom."

The nurse obviously did not want to be there, able to be deciphered by her stern tone. "Do you want me to call your parents or can you get yourself home?"

He quickly opened his eyes and realized he still was at school. Sitting up, he muttered, "No, I'll be okay."

School had just let out on a Friday afternoon, so Teddy took his usually route to get to home. Before he crossed the packed streets, he felt like he was forgetting something. Then a voice behind Teddy instantly reminded him.

"Hey Teddy!" yelled Billy across the courtyard of the high school. Teddy turned, expecting a panting Billy sprinting towards him. But he couldn't match any of the faces he saw with Billy's. He turned back around, thinking he had officially gone crazy when—to his surprise—the brunette stood directly in front of him, grinning.

"So, are you ready to study for the exams on Monday?" Billy asked sarcastically. Teddy smiled and continued to walk, now with Billy, to the Kaplan's house.

The New York air was crisp and a bit hazy. The early spring wind whipped at both boys as they made their way along the busy sidewalk.

"You know, I heard there are heroes just like us. Except more special." Billy chirped unexpectedly. Teddy cleared his throat extra-loudly, but Billy got the wrong idea. "Wait, you're right; no one is more special than we are. So I guess they would be semi-special compared to us."

Billy always came up with theories that they aren't alone, and that these "others" could help them fight evil when the Avengers weren't available to do so. Teddy gave up, and involuntarily listened to yet another one of Billy's rambles.

"You know what?" Billy started to take out his wallet. "I bet you both of my George Washington's that there are other heroes out there."

"Wow. Now that's a hard bet to pass up. I might just go broke if I lose." Teddy said with obvious sarcasm. He paused for a minute before saying, "Hey, I...um...I think I'm—"

Billy grinned, ignored what Teddy was about to say, and continued his argument. "—and like I said, if one of them just so happened to have a wind tunnel ability, we'd be able to—" He was so focused on his proposal that he ran into a fellow pedestrian, dropping his wallet also. "Sorry!"

"Excuse me," said the stranger. He looked at the dropped object for only an instant, and then looked back up at the black-haired teenager, "William Kaplan."

"Erm—" Billy was at a loss for words, looking skeptically from the stranger to the wallet and back again.

As the pedestrian and Billy simultaneously reached for the latter's fallen wallet, a bizarre occurrence took place. When both of their hands touched the wallet, tiny blue sparks flew from the stranger's fingers. Billy looked up at the guy and noticed they were both equally startled. All of a sudden the stranger shoved the wallet into Billy's hand. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, took one last glimpse of the two boys, and scrambled away.

Peter Petrelli
New York, New York

When Peter ran into two teenage boys, he had a strange feeling in his stomach. It could have been the half-cooked chili dog he wolfed down in one and a half bites a few minutes earlier, but it was more probable it had been caused by the electrical occurrence. As he trudged through the busy sidewalk, he was debating on whether to turn around. He needed to know if he was just imagining it, or if the blond and brunette boy he just passed had powers like himself. Peter decided it was best not to; with all the people in New York, there was no way of asking that question without someone eavesdropping, and it was most likely just static electricity from the cold weather. Besides, he was two steps away from his destination.

The young Petrelli turned left into a corner antique shop, reeking with incense even from the outside. The deep maroon paint around the door frame was cracking and littered with graffiti. It wasn't any usual markings one would see on buildings in New York; it was more like another Al Gore movie, equipped with peace propaganda stickers and quotes, a few Save the Whales bumper stickers, and a couple of "I Heart Generic-Name"'s written in Sharpie. As Peter opened the similarly graffiti-plastered door, he was greeted with a strong haze of smoke. A man sat at a velvet-covered table. Shoulder-length, black dreadlocks hung over his slanted eyes. In his hands were occupied by two Tarot cards, and when Peter stepped in, he set them down quickly, as if he unhappily folded in a game of poker.

"I saw you coming," he said ominously, without even looking up at Peter.

Peter shut the door behind him, which made the tiny, pewter bell above the door tinkle. "Caleb, your ability doesn't make you good at being a psychic." he snorted.

"Dude, I can see through things. It counts." Caleb smiled and Peter rolled his eyes.

"And having dreadlocks does not make you a pot head." said Peter, nodding to the homemade cigarette between Caleb's calloused fingers.

"Hey, if you quit nagging me about my life, I'll stop smoking to make yours that much simpler." Caleb finished the argument with an indefinite look upon his face. The mood lightened up when they both howled with laughter at the thought of Caleb actually committing tothat statement.

"So," Caleb started, catching his breath, "did you run into any more of us?"

Peter furrowed his brow. "How'd you know?"

"You have that look on your face," he took a slow drag on his diminishing cigarette, releasing smoke in small rings, "the one where you don't know whether to run after them and tell them your world-changing plan or just leave it alone."

A smile grew upon Peter's face. "You know me so well."

The two sat in silence, watching people pass by through the stained-glass windows. After a few minutes had come and gone, Peter said, "It couldn't have been static electricity."

"What?"

"When I handed the wallet to the teenager, these blue sparks flew out of my hand! I mean, that's never ever happened before, unless I absorbed powers from some electricity person that I didn't know about and it happened all of a sudden and I don't even know if those kids were normal or like us, you know? What if they weren't and they went to the police—"

"Peter—"

"—and then I would be on the FBI's most wanted list and then Nathan would have to—"

"PETER!" Caleb shouted, awaking Peter from his panicky trance. "If these kids you speak of were like us, did you even try to use this electrical power yet?"

"No," Peter thought for a moment, "but I don't want to try it out here, now."

Molly Walker and Matt Parkman
New York, New York

"Are we almost there?" Molly whined. She was ecstatic to see Mohinder at his lab, but Matt on the other hand was having a little difficulty with her directions. His finger traced along an orange highlighted line from his apartment to the late-Isaac's studio, and couldn't seem to match the current street signs to where he had thought they were.

"Let's wait over here," Matt said, pointing to the nearest corner shop. "I think I almost have it."

Molly huffed impatiently. She stared at the little shop they stood next to, silently critiquing its protest nature. She then looked at Parkman and, noting his frazzled look, she said, "You do know that I can find it. Just two seconds and—"

"And you'll let everyone in New York know what you can do. I'd rather not risk it."

"Well, let's go where no one will see!" and she disappeared into the shop.

"Molly!" Parkman sighed and quickly followed her inside.

Molly turned around abruptly when Matt closed the door behind him. She stuck out her hand. "Give me the map. I'll show you were he is."

Matt was reluctant for two reasons; one, she was bossing him around, which it should have been the other way around. Second, he saw two people sitting at a table directly behind Molly—and he recognized one of them.

"Peter?" Matt said, surprised to see his face.

"Parkman!" Peter exclaimed, getting up to confront him in better light. "What are you doing here?"

"We were actually on our way to see Mohinder, but I got a little lost and Molly insisted that she would do the honors." While Matt spoke, Molly closed her eyes and traced her finger along a short route on the map. She opened her eyes quickly and scoffed.

"It's right across the street." Molly said in an exasperated tone. "C'mon, let's go!" she grabbed Parkman's hand and led him to the door.

"I'll see you around," Matt said as Molly dragged him back out on the street.

"Yeah..." Peter said distantly. The bell above the door chimed, and Parkman was gone.

Peter turned back to Caleb. "What a coincidence." he said with an enormous smile, and left Caleb sitting in a cloud of wonder.

Billy Kaplan and Teddy Altman
Kaplan Residence
New York, New York

"Well, he could have seen it since my license is right in the front," Billy reasoned, "but even if it was open, anyone with 20/20 vision couldn't have read it from that far!"

Teddy looked at Billy with one eyebrow raised. More of that "others" talk, he thought. Billy was still babbling as he fumbled with his keys. He finally found the right one and slid it through the lock with ease. "And did I mention the electricity coming from his hand?"

"I can see that you aren't disgustingly concerned about it like you were earlier," Teddy said, noticing Billy somewhat excited tone of voice. As Billy stepped in to put his backpack in his room, Teddy heard a ring coming from his backpack. He zipped opened the front pocket and took out his cell phone. One missed call, it read. Before he could find out who it was from, the voicemail was already dialed. The familiar robotic voice told him his options before letting him listen to the message. When the missed call came on, he immediately recognized the voice.

"Teddy, the school called. Again. We need to talk when you get home." his mother sternly and hung up without another word. The robotic voice began to give Teddy his options once more, but he snapped his phone shut before the voice could finish its routine.

The teen known as Hulkling walked over to the living room couch and plopped himself down. He ran his fingers through his windswept hair, frustrated. All of a sudden, Billy power-walked to the couch, his arms loaded with sodas, an obscenely large bowl of popcorn, and a seemingly infinite number chip packets. He set the food down on the glass coffee table and picked up the remote.

"Erm...we need a remote to study?" Teddy looked genuinely confused.

Billy took a double-take at him. "Oh, I didn't think you were serious!" he grinned, thinking Teddy actually thought they were going to study.

Teddy shrugged. "That works."

"Now, this decision may be tough, but," Billy held up two DVDs, "zombies or superpowers?"

"You don't have a movie with both?"

"Surprisingly not."

"Hmm...I always found it amusing how Hollywood almost managed to capture the essence of what the X-Men are really like," Teddy said with a smirk.

"Hugh Jackman it is!" Billy concluded, and popped in the DVD.

After about ten minutes of hardcore movie watching, Teddy reached out his hand to grab more popcorn, his eyes glued to the television screen. When he couldn't feel any food without having to look away, he noticed that the two of them had devoured practically everything Billy originally set out. He looked at the clock next to the front door and smiled. New record, he thought.

He sat up. Something wasn't right. His esophagus felt like it was slowly constricting; thirst was setting in. Teddy got up from his slouched position on the couch, his hand rubbing his throat. Billy looked up at Teddy, looking concerned. He quickly stood up, face-to-face.

"What's wrong?" Billy scrunched his forehead.

"Soda." Teddy whispered with a scratchy voice.

Billy scoffed and shook his head. "In the fridge door, and get me one while your at it!"

Teddy continued to walk to the kitchen. "Get it yourself."

Billy paused the movie and unwillingly trudged behind Teddy to soothe his salty throat. As soon as a drink was in sight, Teddy grabbed it, opened the tab, and chugged it down. He sighed in relief, followed by a small belch. The teens stood in the kitchen in silence.

Teddy silently debated with himself on exactly what he was going to say. During the course of the day, remnants of the vision came back to him, but he wasn't happy on what the result was. He had to tell Billy, but how?

"Teddy!" Billy was snapping his fingers in effort to wake Teddy from his slight reverie. "C'mon, let's go finish the movie." And the two made their way back to the couch.

Before Billy's thumb touched the play button, Teddy finally said, "I think I'm psychic."

"More like psycho."

"No, I'm serious. I had this...vision sort of thing that you gave me a heart attack."

"Oh my god!"

"What?"

He started to laugh uncontrollably, barely having enough air to utter: "That has to be the worst pick-up line ever!"

"NO! You've got—Billy—" Teddy was able to reach for a throw pillow to whack Billy over the head. "I'm being serious! Even ask the guys in my biology class. We were taking a test and then, according to them, I was convulsing." Billy muttered something about 'death by testing' and Teddy gave him the evil eye. "Next thing I know, I'm on the floor surrounded by everyone with the memory of you—you—"

Billy had a smirk painted across his face, taking a sip as well. "Me what?"

"The memory of you killing me."

Billy's heart dropped to his stomach floor, his drink going along with it. With his mouth slightly agape, he just stared at Teddy, not believing what he heard. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you just say—" Billy was interrupted by the doorbell, ringing studiously. He got up from the couch and slowly headed for the door, unable to digest what he'd just heard. Looking through the peephole, he recognized the strange man who knew his name. Not knowing whether to open the door, Billy just stared at the stranger.

"I'm Peter Petrelli." the stranger said firmly, yet sounding a bit awkward, "I need to ask William Kaplan and his friend a few questions."