Disclaimer: All CSI NY characters belong to their wonderful creators and CBS. The two Heroes characters that appear throughout the story belong to the creators of Heroes and NBC, and so does their amazingly creative plot on human evolution (I'm still waiting for my powers to manifest, by the way. :-p). I am not earning anything from this and I am merely borrowing them for my own entertainment, and hopefully others as well.
I am taking quite a leap here, mixing Heroes with CSI NY. But this plot has been bugging me for ages and I just had to get it out. If you don't like the idea of our favourite 6 NY characters obtaining super powers and hanging round with the likes of Mohinder and Sylar, than you better not continue reading.
If, however, the idea appeals to you, read on, and leave a review at the end. :-) Thanks in advance.
Oh, and thanks to co-plotter, Jess, whom was kind enough to give me plenty of ideas and suggestions in exchange for nothing more than the permission to give Flack a cool, macho power of her choice.
Timeline: CSI NY: After Snow Day. So there will be M&Ms scattered here and there.
Mohinder: After he figures out the password to his dad's list. Before he had Sylar tagging round him like a lap dog. :-D
Chapter One
I've been having strange dreams lately. Completely unlike anything I've ever dreamt before. Unpleasant dreams are quite in the norm to me. Images of rotting bodies of young children, bludgeoned college girls, mutilated corpses and bodies reduced to ashes will be nothing new to you either, if you've seen all that I've seen, in my line of work...
But for the past week, I've been dreaming of different things. Less haunting, yes, but disturbing none the less.
Fire.
Furious flames with shades of red, yellow and orange all around me, licking my skin, engulfing me. But I don't feel any pain. No burns. No heat. Just the enigmatic beauty of the flickering flames.
On and on... every night.
It's not always fire... just last night I dreamt of waves crashing all around me, in an ocean with a never ending horizon. Cold wind swept through me, chilling my insides. Then everything froze. Water into ice... inches thick.
Dreams like these remind me of fantasy novels where heroes save the world from a demented enemy or complete destruction (or both), using super powers to do with elements like ice, water, fire and air.
But that's not my world. My world is the world that created the magical world above. The world that most people wish they could escape to, just to be special or to find easy solutions to their problems.
But that's not reality. Reality is ice, water, fire and air being just what they are:natural phenomena of everyday lifeReality is heroes having no powers out of the ordinary. Reality is people like me and my colleagues, who are trying to save the world... one person at a time, one murderer behind bars at a time. Sometimes, we get lucky with two murderers at a time. And throughout all that, we still have to deal with the grieving husbands, wives, mums and dads, siblings and friends.
That's reality.
These dreams... are just that. Dreams.
Ok... ok... I can argue with myself all I want. Despite it all, I can't help but wonder if something different is coming my way. I can't help but wonder if these dreams mean more than just images concocted by my subconscious trying to break away. Am I being a fool to be hoping that there could be something more?
"You alright?"
Danny Messer looked up from the coffee mug he was clutching in his hand with a start to see Stella Bonasera looking at him, eyebrows knitted in concern.
"Um, yeah," he muttered, "Fine. Just... uh... thinking..."
Stella didn't look completely convinced, but she nodded and went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
Danny leaned back in his seat and heard his back pop. How long had he been sitting there anyway? Hand rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes followed Stella. The break room was empty except for the two of them. She had gone over to the sink and grabbed a clean glass from the shelf above it. "You've been looking a little more drained lately... you sure you're okay?"
Danny gave her a smile and said bracingly, "I'm good."
"Yeah well, these murders have gotten to pretty much everyone here..." said Stella. She was talking about the series of brutal killings that have started around a couple of weeks ago. They have had five crime scenes where the bodies were all killed in the same way. Heads sawed open at the forehead with the brain spilled out, chunks missing.
Whoever the killer was, he was good. Everyone was working overtime sifting through prints, running background checks for things victims had in common and following empty leads. So far, they had turned up nothing. Pressure to solve this case was mounting from the media, the public and of course, from the brass above.
Danny nodded, seizing the ready made excuse. Sure, the cases bothered him. He wanted to solve them just as much as anyone else in the NYPD. But other things were occupying his mind now. Why those dreams? Why now?
Stella's eyes travelled from the thin scars on his left hand to the dark circles under his now-not-so bright blue eyes. There was something different about the younger CSI's demeanour, but Stella couldn't put her finger on exactly what. Was it trauma from the hostage situation a couple months back? Or the grisly crime scenes they had to endure for the last two weeks?
Deciding to keep a close eye on Danny for the next few days, Stella filled up the glass she was holding with the water from the bottle.
Just when she was about to take a sip, the glass broke into several pieces, spilling water all over her and the table. Suddenly alert, Danny leaped out of his seat to save himself from the flowing water saying, "Stel... you okay?"
Stella nodded slowly, still numb from shock. The pieces of glass remained clutched in her hand, cutting her a little. She quickly got up and went over to the sink to wash up. Danny meanwhile grabbed a handful of tissue paper and started wiping the spilt water of the table top.
"What just happened?" Danny asked, somewhat amusedly.
Turning on the tap and washing the blood from the couple of cuts on her hand, Stella smiled a little and said, "Must have squeezed too hard..."
They both started laughing.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"He did it you know... he discovered them. His theory was right."
"And that is good news, yes?" Her tone was hopeful.
He looked straight into his mother's eyes, "Why didn't he tell me?"
"He wanted you to live your own life," she replied, "So now you know about them, what would you do?"
The answer seemed to be just waiting for its question, he now knew that this was what he wanted all along, "Find them! Tell them who they are if they don't already know! Warn them of the dangers they face!"
His mother looked at him almost pityingly, "And who will protect you?"
Mohinder Suresh's eyes burned with the strain of staring at the computer screen for so long. His back ached and he was just plain tired. But he couldn't stop. Not now. He had to do this, for his father's sake... and for his own.
He scrolled down the list his father had made, reading names and locations. No more doubts. His father was right all along. They exist...
Mohinder was astounded at how many his father managed to discover. And who knows how many there are that haven't been found yet?
Terry Mitchell... Melbourne, Australia.
Mohinder grabbed a coloured pin off the table and turned to the map behind him. It was getting quite cluttered, with all the pins, articles, pictures, post-its and strings stretched over the continents. Mohinder stuck the pin into a spot in South Australia and stepped back, surveying the map. Human evolution... right here in front of me.
Behind him, a tune sang out from the TV, signalling the 8 o'clock news. Mohinder got back into his seat and returned to the list. The news anchor's voice reached his ears but he didn't bother to absorb what was being said.
"Another gruesome killing happened today. Fiona McCurt, aged 37, was found dead in her home in Queens with her skull cut open and brain removed."
Mohinder looked up at the anchorwoman's solemn expression, attentive all of a sudden.
"She is now the sixth body to be found murdered in such a brutal fashion The public is shocked and baffled by these serial killings that have started two weeks ago. The murderer appears to choose his victims at random and has struck different locations all over New York.NYPD head of detectives, Chief Sinclair has assured New York citizens that there is no need to panic as his team of officers are working their hardest to take down this mad murderer as soon as possible."
The screen showed a tall burly black man standing in front of a one-story house with crime scene tape surrounding it. The man spoke into the several mikes in front of him, "I have placed my best team of detectives in the NYPD on this case. They have already uncovered several leads to these murders. I promise you, we are going to catch this murderer, and he will answer for his crimes."
Mohinder frowned, heart thumping fast. Fiona McCurt, he read that name somewhere before...
His eyes returned to the computer screen. Scrolling upwards, eyes searching frantically, he found what he was looking for. Fiona McCurt, New York City. With a sigh, he highlighted the name and pressed a button. The name turned red and instead of New York City, the location now read 'deceased'.
Brain working furiously, Mohinder got up and headed over to the stack of newspapers he had left on his coffee table. He quickly found what he was looking for, an article about the murders, with the names of the previous five victims.
Charlie Devons... Greg Davidson... Sally Tracin... Jean Willards... Samantha Runnick.
All with their skulls sliced open. All on his father's list. All deceased.
Mohinder's hand clenched into a tight fist.
Sylar...
Head throbbing slightly, Mohinder debated his options. Who should he tell? The police? Right... "911? I know who the killer is. He's a man who kills people with special abilities and eats their brains to obtain their powers. Oh? Didn't you know? The human species is experiencing evolution at a rapid speed. There are people all over the world with special DNA that gives them amazing abilities. They could change the world as we know it! It's all fascinating stuff, really."
Fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on his desk, Mohinder looked back down at the article. There was a picture of one of the crime scenes. A few police officers in uniforms and Forensic jackets were in the picture but only two faces were clear. One was serious looking man with short brown hair wearing a gold pin with the letter 'D' on his jacket. Mohinder had seen this same man in the newspaper a couple of months ago when he first came to New York. The news article had called him a hero. He, along with his team, had prevented members of the Irish Mob from stealing a large amount of cocaine from the NYPD evidence vault.
The other face was a woman with long curly brown hair carrying a silver kit. She had an attractive face with sharp features indicating Greek ancestry. Under the picture, was the caption: The detectives heading this case are Detective Mac Taylorand Detective Stella Bonasera. Both of which have not offered any comment on these brutal killings so far.
Mohinder's stomach let out a protesting growl... dinner time. He moved the cursor to close the program. But just before he did, his eyes caught a name on the list.
Stella Bonasera, New York City. File #135
She was one of the few that his father had started researching and kept a file on. Mohinder opened the drawer beside him. Inside were several files with names stuck on. Mohinder fingered through the files and what he was looking for.
Stella Bonasera.
The file was quite thin. He opened it and the first thing he saw was a picture of the same woman he saw earlier. This picture was black and white and she looked a bit younger. But it was her alright. Behind the picture, there were several printed pages of paper as well as some pictures and diagrams.
Dinner would have to wait.