Chapter 1: Fractured

What was going on inside Peter's mind? That was unanswerable to every person who passed him on the streets of New York City. Life had never been the same since he'd discovered his power of empathic mimicry – something he never regretted, but something he also had never come to appreciate either. Not now. His life was a burden to everyone who loved and cared for him since the night at Kirby Plaza, and even more a burden to himself. That night had changed the world for humans with abilities. It was almost as if they were all freed in unity – there was so many living secretly with powers, with a few minorities not so secret and frantic to show their superiority which much of the world shrugged off as madness and flukes.

Peter's power was unlimited. Every day he discovered an addition to his already unquantifiable list of powers his being retained.

It may all have been a lie – he was not the exploding man as predicted. In fact there was never an explosion at all. Well, an explosion of powers that inundated Peter with a crippling pain there was, but nothing of the fiery death painted and foreseen. Since that night, Peter had lost who he used to be, forced into being someone who he didn't yet know himself, but knew wasn't connected to the world of those he should and used to care about more than anything in his life. Don't misunderstand, he still cared for them, but he feared for them more above all else. He was unpredictable now.

His ever-growing powers created rifts between everyone and everything. If he got angry, he could cause the ground to shake underneath him as if the heavens quivered in fear at his potential for destruction. If he felt lost, the skies could become darkened with growling thunder that echoed throughout the city and far beyond. If he felt happiness, it was quashed by the immense pain of retaining every ability he had acquired, many unknowingly and still dormant. But he could feel them inside. Every time he got too close to anyone, he felt the growing hunger of his leashed powers erupt into violent pulses that trickled along his skin. They almost spoke to him – telling him to just let go, to release them and let them rule over his mind and body. It was an internal fight he was positive he could never win, yet, each day he managed to suppress the urge to let the darkness control him.

So he remained away from people as much as he could. Inside his apartment, he remained pressed to the wall, hunched over with his head in his hands telling himself that in that moment he would not lose. He would never lose. But in each moment he felt the powers swell just a little more, as if they were their own entity inside of him recruiting for the inevitable overhaul of his mind.

'Peter,' followed by a clacking on his door urged a jolt of horror to surge through Peter's body as his gaze shot to the door. 'Pete, open up. It's me.'

Peter grimaced; he'd told Nathan to leave him be. Two months since Kirby Plaza had seen Peter drown in obscurity and the shadows. Nathan had come by every day since, demanding to see him, telling him that Peter wouldn't hurt him or anyone else and that he could help.

'Lies,' Peter hissed. 'No one can help me.'

'Peter, you need to open this door. This needs to stop.' Nathan had been there for the first few days since Kirby Plaza, by his brother's side, witnessing how Peter had been overwhelmed with ever-coming abilities that spiralled out of his control. He'd seen how Peter, in a moment of panicked rage, crushed the bodies of every car down one of the many compacted roads of Manhattan. He'd seen how, when reached out to – both touch and words – the air grew thin and breathless, suffocating and dizzying everyone around as Peter recoiled in fear of killing someone.

He'd told Peter that it would all be fine, that they would find a way to help him control his powers like before where he could call upon an individual ability, or even a combination, without the potential of chaos. But Nathan was unsure of how to help, and Peter could sense as well as hear that in his mind as he growled at Nathan to let him be like all the times before. Nathan never listened, of course, and always proceeded to attempt to open the door by force. It was futile. Peter had barraged the door with tangible force which sealed him inside his apartment, away from civilisation and the living. Nathan had even tried the windows a few times at night, but Peter needn't even blink to propel the barrier of force outward to push Nathan away. He knew that Nathan had given up a lot to help him. His marriage to Heidi had crumbled, along with his campaign and cares of anything else in the world.

'Pete, Hunter is here again. He can help.'

Peter smirked. Hunter Trent. The guy Nathan had recruited to help his insane little brother. The guy with the ability of emotion manipulation Nathan had found by prowling through the records which Mohinder had cautiously allowed Nathan to study. Nathan thought that Hunter would solve it all; make his little brother tranquil and void of emotion and there would be no fear of losing control.

He was wrong. Peter was immune to all powers practically, especially the mental kind. He could take them, use them, and defer them. No matter how much one with a ability might try, Peter would never fall under their power, just like how Hunter's power was useless for him. But Nathan couldn't understand that, and neither apparently could Hunter.

'Leave!' screamed Peter, his body convulsing in a mix of anger and dwindling restraint. 'I can't control it for much longer.' He wiped his brow which was dabbed in sweat of exhaustion and exertion of control.

'Then let us help you,' began Nathan. There was s light hesitation before he continued, 'Hunter isn't the only one here. There's someone else, Pete.' Peter's eyes frantically zoomed to the ceiling then back to the door. 'Hunter's sister is here. She wants to help you.'

That caused Peter's body to violently shake – he could feel the powers imploding inside of him at the mention of a new name. The walls seemed closer. The air rippled in anxious sways of heat. His head throbbed with sears of screaming thoughts and commands. His hands clenched his arms over his legs, pulling himself into a tight ball against the wall as he felt the inferno of power rising and coming. He looked to the door, it becoming translucent to his empowered eyes – another power acquired somewhere along the line – allowing him to see the three on the other side of his walls.

Nathan had his head pressed to the door, a look of defeat straining his face. Hunter wore an expression of apparent thoughtfulness and contemplation, but it was when Peter shifted his unsteady gaze to Hunter's sister his mind silenced a little. Her face was determined yet afraid, young yet experienced.

'My name is Trinity,' said the girl. 'I can help – I want to.'

Peter's gaze narrowed in confusion: How could she possibly help what I've become? She looked so fragile and small compared to Nathan and her brother. She brushed her fingers against the wall, and Peter could feel the delicacy of her touch. There was something in that touch that was different. Not bad. Not evil. Hope? Maybe.

Peter's body instantly ripped apart inside – something...was wrong. He felt torn. He could suddenly see so many others, not quite here in the world, but not unattached either, outlined with a misted aura which radiated like tendrils of living light. They walked, and flew and fell through the walls and floor; they whispered inaudible utterances and passed by Peter without acknowledging his existence.

'What..?' He exhaled sharply.

'Welcome,' said Trinity, stepping through the barrier created and withheld by Peter into his apartment; a gentle smile gracing her red pale lips, 'to the world of The Void.'