We Could Be Heroes. (Title pending and it will make sense later.)
Umm yeah. Random fanfiction. I started writing this forever ago and am now finally touching back upon it. Chapter 1 is a sucky intro, but I promise it gets better.
OKAY, first thing's first! Don't shoot me down but throughout this I'm using my OC Matt and for my own enjoyment I'm making him Nathan and Meredith's son. So yep, that means he is Claire's younger brother and I'm also giving him the ability of empathic mimicry. Hate me or this story, but I don't plan to GM or PP with him either. Like I said, it's more for my own fantasy enjoyment...and ya know, who doesn't want to be related to Peter Petrelli? xD

Chapter 1
~Accidental Teleportation

The heat awoke me. That, and the fact that the air condition had turned off, the darkness had faded, and my comfortable bed had been exchanged for something lumpy and wet. I blinked a couple of times before registering where I was. There was grass and sand all around me and the sound of crashing waves. My conclusion was evident. I was at some sort of beach.

As the wind began to pick up, the sand began to blow in my face. I blinked rapidly, meanwhile trying to get to my feet. I was lying on my stomach in the middle of a grassy dune, not a clue how I had gotten there in the first place. As I tried to lift my body up, I realized there was weight on top of me. Something that felt oddly like another body.

Right then and there something dawned on me. That wetness I felt earlier…why did I have the feeling it could be blood? In a split second I wiggled free, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach as I did so. I winced at the dead girl in front of me and the amount of crimson spilled all over. There was something entirely wrong with this picture…

She was a young blonde—probably in her early twenties. And kind of cute—well except for the dead part. She was on her back, dressed in a zebra striped bikini. Her throat and abdomen were sliced and there looked to be a bullet wound in her forehead. And of course with all that, there was loads of blood.

But the odd thing was her blood wasn't that fresh. I estimated her to be about more than a couple hours dead. I'm no expert, but the blood on the front of me was fresh. Guess there was only one way to find out.

I lifted my T-shirt over my head and dropped it on to the sand. There was a bullet wound in my chest and a rather large gash in my stomach. To most people this would have been deadly and very painful.

Lucky for me I wasn't most people. I was sort of a genetic freak. I was special. I had abilities. Lots of abilities—well kind of. I was what you could call a human sponge. I was what my uncle had once been—an empath—bearing the ability of empathic mimicry. Of course, it does have its pros and cons but overall it is pretty awesome. (And if you're still clueless about what I'm talking about, I suggest you Google it.)

Anyway, I did feel pain…sometimes. I couldn't control whether I felt it or not, but usually if I did, it was only minor. I wasn't like Claire who no longer felt anything anymore. (Which by the way is the girl whom I borrowed cellular regeneration from.) Either way, I felt something now as I attempted to pick a bullet out of me. When I finally plucked it out, I watched as my wound faded away, new tissue replacing the old.

Now for my stomach cut. I couldn't remember what the hell happened to me, but I assumed I was stabbed with something rather sharp. I was guessing seashells maybe, only because I pulled out two large pieces of shell. This made me bleed some more. It also seemed to hurt more. And I was wondering why it wouldn't heal over like my other injury.

I could control whether I wanted it to heal or not, but right now, it didn't seem to be working. In fact, I couldn't get a lot of my powers to work on my own lately. I'm guessing that's how I got here in the first place. Accidental teleportation. Woops.

I glanced back down at my stupid gash, realizing I'd have to just deal with it for now. The only thing I could really do was press my T-shirt up against it. My white shirt...which was now stained red. But hey, I needed something to help stop the bleeding.

I didn't know how long I was standing here lost in my own thoughts, but I was glad no one had walked by. After all, I was technically in the middle of a crime scene-to-be. Which speaking of, I was now sure to be the number one suspect. My DNA was all over the sand and the girl and vice versa.

My shirt would be big evidence (not counting my blood stained body) but I'd have nowhere to hide it. I wasn't a criminal, so therefore I didn't think like one. I didn't know how to cover my tracks. I also didn't know what to do in a situation like this.

It'd probably be smart to call the police (well not in my case) but that didn't matter. I didn't have my cell phone with me. I'd left that back with New York...and my bed. Which, I wonder how far I am away from? Not to mention I was standing here half naked. I was on a beach but still it felt weird standing in boxers, looking around clueless to as where I was.

As I walked out of the grassy area I spotted a group of old people coming my way, carrying their assorted beachwear. I had no clue what the time was but I assumed it was early seeing at the beach was rather empty. I didn't want to take my chances of being seen by others but my options were kind of low. I thought about resulting to invisibility but who knows how that would have turned out if I couldn't control my powers properly.

Slowly, I edged forward. I was panicking inside but I didn't show it. I tried to stay calm as I secretly prayed for a miracle. They were coming towards me at nine o'clock. I glanced at the sand and spotted a beach towel. My eyes lit up.

So what if it had Hannah Montana on it. No big deal. A towel was a towel. I kept one hand pressing the shirt against me and the other holding the towel around me like a cape. Luckily it was big enough to cover me. Or more so, lucky I found it in the first place.

Just thank God there were no police around. But of course as soon as I would say something…I would hear sirens. Just my luck, right?

I was anxious and somewhat scared. I didn't want to be wrapped up in this mess. I wanted to go back to bed and relax. I knew that wasn't happening though. As much as I wanted this to be a dream, I knew it was not.

I was walking along the pavement now. The cement was rough against my feet but I made do. I had no clue where I was going but anywhere far from here would be good…