There are quotes to a filk song in here, I don't own it, I don't know who does. I don't own Heros either.

It's not so dark tonight. A sliver of light permeates the eternal gloom and the rotted husks of silken pillows. My eyes need to regenerate to comprehend it. Air seeps in, disturbing the coma of long years of death; the body reacts, remembers life and recalls together joints to wail in the agony of prolonged stillness, organs to creak and shudder at years of starvation and dehydration.

Tomorrow is the day.

I hear the voices from above. They're building something, a mall. They just knocked off for the day.

I'm sure it's been a long time, everything is rotten. Not that time had much meaning in total darkness. It just ticked by; forgotten. Well, I have a long patience; I'll wait, I don't need sleep.

I've been sleeping for quite some time.

I'm sure Hiro felt satisfied in the finality, the poetry of it, me buried next to his father, suffering for my sins. He thinks he's right because he's won. But, oh, I found him after 400 years didn't I? He can travel in time, perhaps I'll find a way as well, or he'll find me in whatever future this is. The years turn by, but one day he will beg me for his death.

I've begged enough. Kicked, screamed, sobbed, for freedom, for death. When he stepped though time, or whatever he did, and found me still alive, did the little backstabbing nitwit even think of why? Shuttering me here wasn't a hellish death; it was hell. Starvation, dehydration, asphyxiation; I kept healing, I kept living. Sometimes, the length of dying would put me in… stasis, I guess it would be called. Until an earthquake or some fluke or another would allow a breath of air in; my body would shove out the worms eating their way through my guts like it always expelled bullets. And it would all happen again. While I was awake, I would eat out my tongue to fill my stomach. It always grew back anyway.

He said I wanted to be god, but I kill, I don't condemn people to eternity. But I don't need to walk on water -- when I know that I can run on wine.

Hiro. Hero. I remember when he pulled me away, and I dropped the vial on the way, thinking for that brief second, that no matter where he took me, I would survive and I would have won. Then we were mashed together in this little space, and he whispered, almost tragically; "You will live and we will die, but you will harm nobody here." Then he buried me here alone.

Fitting for the fairy-tale, comic enthusiast – clean. He just turns his back and it all works out, I'm gone, and he's got no blood on his hands. Disney villains always fell over cliffs in the end. He doesn't have to see me suffer.

I guess he stopped the virus somehow. It would be like him to ruin everything; maybe it was Peter. Who knows. Better that I did lose then, I suppose. Because I know people are out there. Cutting up the ground, shoving the dearly departed aside for more cheap amusements. Degenerates. But, oh so useful.

I don't know why, but I know I'm much stronger now. I like that. Before revenge; there's quite a few deadly sins I've been missing out on. I might even settle before gluttony before wrath. Whatever the century, there's always the sins. The same sins; the mall they're building out there will have the same sleazy mix of greed, lust and gluttony. I guess they just like them too much. I'm sure they have new weapons too. New ways of wiping out humanity. I'd love to stick Hiro somewhere and make him watch and let him know he can't reverse it once history is written. Revenge, revenge keeps me awake in anticipation, purring in awareness past the immortal agony of existence buried alive. I've been long enough, slowing healing in the darkness; there's no getting used to it, but there are degrees.

I can hardly wait to see that workman's face.