--
New York City, 2011, five years later...
"The bomb..." Hiro Nakamura moaned in Japanese, standing on the roof of the wrecked Deveaux building with his friend, Ando. "I couldn't stop it. I failed." he hung his head in shame and sorrow. Behind them, they heard a noise from the room they just left, and wasted no time in returning to investigate. "Mister Isaac?" Hiro and Ando called, thinking that their friend, Isaac Mendez, might have heard them talking and was looking for them. "Mister Isaac? Mister Isaac? Mister I-?!" they stopped short, for what they saw, they couldn't believe. It was Hiro, five years later. He looked like a Samurai.
"YOU!" said Future Hiro in a stern voice.
"Me?" Hiro gulped.
The Van Santen twins, Modesto, California, 2011, 5:30 PM, Saturday
"Marichen, you're studying still?! It is a weekend!" Albert Van Santen said to his twin sister, Maria. "We have the weekend to spend with Mama before leaving Sunday evening back to college, and you study?" Maria shot a pointed look her brother's way, she knew all that he had just said, but she had a test on Monday that she needed to pass, after all, she was a Biochemistry major at California Polytechnic School in San Luis Obispo. "Easy for you to say." she muttered. "Your major is Ornamental Horticulture." Albert looked at her in disbelief. "Ouch." He pretended to be hurt. "Marichen, you know that I work hard. Besides, I can't help it if I have a gift for working with plants." Albert puffed out his chest, mockingly, and Maria snorted. "A gift, Bertie, you can more or less TALK to plants!" she exclaimed. "It's pretty extraordinary, if you think about it." Albert shook his head. "You're one to talk." he retorted. "Miss, I-Can-See-Your-Bones-And-Who-Knows-What-"Else". You're pretty extraordinary yourself"
Just then, their mother, Margot Van Santen, entered the room, in a daze. "Marichen, turn on the television, dear." she said quietly. Maria obliged and she and Albert were soon as shellshocked as their mother when they witnessed the reporter on the tv tell the astounding story of what had happened recently.
"We have just gotten word of a 27 year old woman in Chicago, Illinois, who was found in her house, dying, and having taken quite a beating." The reporter said. "Her name was Aerynne Killgallen-Suresh, police investigators say, and she was found by her housekeeper, Alice Carrera, about an hour and a half ago, Ms. Carrera immediately called 911 where police and an ambulance took Aerynne to the local hospital, she died on the way there. Carrera says the last thing her employer said to her was to find her husband, Mohinder Suresh, a man working with President Nathan Petrelli, and that their six month-old daughter, Lillian, was safe. She also reportedly said something about genocide. Family and friends of the victim couldn't be reached for comment, nor could Dr. Suresh be reached for comment. The couple had been married for 2 years and Aerynne Killgallen-Suresh was the co-owner of a resturant with friend and stepbrother, Adam Conans, no name has been given for the resturant."
Albert switched off the television in horror. "Who would do such a thing?" he wondered aloud. Margot turned to him and Maria. "Five other people this week have been found dead in their homes, three have been reported missing, they were all reported to have special...talents. Like you, I think." she told her children. "I wonder...if it was likewise with this woman...if..."
"If they're all connected." Maria finished. "Elohim, God on high, what are You unleashing on the world?
Sergio Quintanilla, Little Rock, California, 6:12 AM, 2011, Friday
Sergio wasn't a complicated man, he was born in America, after his parents had come here from Mexico when they were teenagers. He'd embraced the best of both cultures, the Hot Dogs and Menudo, the Baseball and Futbol, Rock'n'Roll and Tejano, English and Spanish. He was an open person, was honest whenever possible, he had a beautiful wife, Melena, and two sons, Nunsio and Emilio, he'd recently sent them on a trip to Tahiti, with the strangest sense that something was going to happen, and that they shouldn't be there with him when it occured, they needed to be safe, their fate shouldn't be as his, whatever it may be. "Ai, why didn't sense that we were almost out of milk, too?" Sergio muttered to himself, grabbing a leftover tamale out of the fridge. The microwave needed to be fixed, but that was okay, he liked them better cold. He thought he heard the front door open and close, but decided it was just his imagination. He needed to be at work by 9:00, he worked at the auto body shop down the road, Silvio's Car Repair, and Silvio wouldn't be in a good mood if he showed up late. He grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge, as well, and closed it's door for the last time. He took a bite out of the tamale and washed down with a swig of beer, and he could've sworn he heard footsteps coming up behind him, he turned around to see four men dressed in black with sunglasses to hide their identities.
"Who are you?" Sergio asked. "What do you want?"
"We want you." The third man to the right replied. "Come quietly or will kill you faster."
"What?!" Sergio exclaimed. "Kill me faster? Oh, now I'm at ease!"
"Stay calm." said the man in the middle, who seemed to be the head honcho of the bunch. "We have orders to kill anyone who struggles."
"But-but..." Sergio stammered. "You don't understand! I have a family! I need to take care of them-aah!" They tranquilized him, and as he dropped to the floor, the man in the middle talked on his cellphone. "We have him sedated, what are our orders from here on out?"
"Bring him to location 90210, we aren't going to kill him...yet." The man on the other line said.
"Alright then, President Petrelli."
Mohinder Suresh, Undisclosed Location, 8:28 PM, Saturday, 2011
Entry
no. 1 Dear Journal, This is terrible, this is beyond
terrible. People everywhere are disappearing or being found dead, as
far as I know, they all have the genetic marker. And I think I know
who's to blame, Nathan Petrelli and I have known each other for going
on five years, and he's been talking about using The List to "dispose
of" people with special abilities. I don't know why he would
want to do something like that? He's one of them! I talked to him
about this last week, but I couldn't persuade him to discard the
idea. Now, innocent people all over are dying and disappearing
because I did nothing about it. My wife, the woman I loved and always
will love, is dead, our baby girl is being hidden to keep her safe,
and our entire family has been torn apart, ripped at the seams. And
it's all my fault. I should have been there when she died, I should
have saved her, even after she insisted I take Lilly somewhere safe
so she wouldn't be found, I should have been her first line of
defense, I should have done all the things a good husband would do to
protect his wife, all the things I didn't do. I know that
Aerynne was not the first, nor will she be the last, to die. But
maybe if I can stop this now, less blood will be shed in the outcome
than would be shed if I stood back and did nothing. It's time for me
to stop cowering in a corner, and start acting like the man Aerynne
said she saw when she looked at me, I need to avenge her death, I
need to stop this before it gets any further, but I need help. I need
to find people to assist me. Maybe then, I can make peace with my
deceased wife and I can raise our daughter without any imposing
threats. Oh, Aerynne, please forgive me...I'm sorry...I'm so
sorry, Aerynne... M.
--