Hello, faithful followers! After a year of being absent, I've gotten back into my writing career. And what better way to brush up on my writing than to revise and rewrite my lovely fanfic that had captured my heart and led me on a crazy path that I really had no intention of going down when I first imagined this piece. Sure, that means going through all 20 chapters before getting down to creating more, but I feel it's a necessary thing to do. And with my new job allowing me ample time alone each night (usually, anyway) to get this done, I figure I can do this and provide you with a richer reading experience. So, please be a little patient over the next week or so, and I will get through all the revisions and get to work on tugging everyone down the twisting path that is Olivia Petrelli's life!
As always, please leave a comment after you read, as I love all of your opinions and guesses as to what is going to happen next!
Summary:Chaos reigns over the world. Sylar has taken control of most of the "evolved human" population. A group of rebels tries desperately to stay free and resist him, but when Adam is released just as their leader's daughter is kidnapped, how can their plan succeed? AU. AdamOC, SylarOC.
A/N: Set after Season Two, but mainly AU by my imagination. No spoilers. Also, it's rated this way for a reason. I feel no need to hold back on the language or anything. I refuse to candy-coat a story for the easily offended. So if that's you, turn back now.
Disclaimer: Don't own, so you can't sue. Now I'm depressed. Happy now? Besides, if I did own Heroes, Season Two would have lasted longer than eleven episodes.
KEY: Here's something to help y'all out with all the italic writing in the chapters. I'll put this key in each chapter as a continuous reminder in case y'all need it. Italics inside triple asterisks are memories, but single asterisks are dreams. Single italics are private thoughts. Quoted italics are transmitted thoughts in normal scenes, but are single quoted in dreams/memories (single apostrophe). Arrows closed around are like a voice over affect {blah}.
Requiem For Revenge
Adam sighed in frustration for what seemed like the millionth time in just the last hour. It was going to be one of those days again. He'd spend the entire time pissed off at the ghosts of the past. That's all they were anymore. Nothing more than ghosts. Bob had died years ago for all he knew. Elle would have taken his place at the Company. Or at least someone just as bad as the old Founders were. And Hiro...
He growled low in his throat and slammed his fist into the concrete wall. Tiny pieces crumbled away under his hand, falling like gray dust to the floor. His knuckles cracked softly as they realigned themselves and healed over. He sighed once more as he wiped the drying blood from his perfect hand. He knew it would take decades to break out of this tomb. But at lease it was better then the coffin in Tokyo. He cringed at the memory of the months of torture inside that prison.
***He slammed his fist into the wood above him. It creaked and groaned from the action, and he heard the soil shift slightly. Just maybe one day he could break out of this hell hole he was in. And then he could get revenge on that little snake that put him in this casket. He was still so angry at Hiro that he punched the lid again. This time the wood split just enough to leave splinters in his knuckles. As usual, his skin pushed the splinters out and healed back up, leaving no trace at all of the damage. By this time, even the simple meaningless act of his power pissed him off. Many times he wished he could just die and stay that way.
But each time his lungs could no longer take in any more of the scarce oxygen, and he would suffocate, they would regenerate and he would come back. Back to the confinement of that horrid coffin. Back to the torture of not being able to break through the tough, thick wood. To the reality of knowing that even if he did break out, there was almost no way of digging to the surface. No one can breathe dirt. Regenerative ability or not, it's just not possible. Is it?
As his head started to spin once again and the familiar ache in his lungs grew harder to bear, he cursed out loud. Closing his eyes, he waited to die and return. His last staggering breath sounded hoarse, strained, and exceptionally painful, even to him. He was starting to become annoyed with that as well. Yes, today was going to be a bad day...***
He was grateful that he had been moved when Hiro had a change of heart about his condition and had him moved to a tomb instead. He was more than just slightly irritated when they moved him, though. Hiro had gotten smart. Used hired goons to do the dirty work. They dug him up and drugged him as his eyes were still adjusting to the sudden brightness of the moonlight. He was unconscious long before he could do anything to anyone.
Then he was here. In a miserable tomb in another graveyard somewhere else. There was no way he could know. No one came by, so there was no dialect to try to trace to a region. Only quiet. And time. Time to ponder the ways of the world again. To focus on the true path of humanity and how evolved humans would fit in. If they ever could. The way the world was when he left it, it didn't seem like they would have much of a chance unless they all banned together and did something drastic.
Like release Strain 38.
No, he thought bitterly to himself. It wouldn't have solved anything then, and it damn sure wouldn't solve anything now. It was a stupid plan. I was such a fool.
Just then, Adam felt something odd. His mind felt like someone was pulling on it with a thin string. Pulling with just the tiniest of nudges. It started with a light tingle, like the flutter of butterfly wings, and then grew into a steady tug. The familiar tomb gave way to a vision of a rocky bluff overlooking a beach, with the waves crashing several feet below him, the sounds of gulls crying nearby, and the sun beginning to set off in the distance. He looked around in amazement and shock.
What the hell?
Then he heard a small giggle behind him. He whirled around, finding himself face to face with a young woman in her mid-twenties. He stood about five and a half feet tall, with chocolate-colored hair and blue-green eyes. She looked up at him, an amused smile on her face. He stared in shock, unable to move or speak. It had been so long since he'd seen anyone other than the ghosts that haunted his memories.
"Hello, Adam. I've finally found you."
