Tokyo, Japan
Hiro Nakamura

He squinted at the bomb in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth from the red wire to the blue wire. Red or blue, red or blue? The timer ticked down. Forty-five seconds left. Red or blue, red or blue? He could do this. He'd saved the world before and he could do it again. The wires were taunting him. Thirty seconds left. Red or blue?

"Hiro! What are you doing?!"

Hiro turned quickly in the black swivel chair, staring out of his cubicle. His boss, Mr. Korumu, looked livid. Inching his chair over to the left, he tried to cover up the blatant misuse of company time on his computer screen. From the look on Korumu's face, it did not work.

"Saving the world?" Hiro said in his native language, smiling feebly.

"Your time would be better used saving your job," Korumu said with a threatening finger pointed. "Your sister may hold power in this company, but that does not mean that you cannot get fired!" If only Hiro still had Kensei's blade with him. Then he could show Korumu who had power. Still, he had to concede.

"Yes, sir." Hiro replied, a slight tone of resentment in his voice.

"To think what your father sacrificed to raise you…and what you have to show for it," Korumu said, his voice much quieter. Hiro glared at him, anger rising in his chest. How dare he talk to him about his father… "Now, back to work!" Korumu strode away and Hiro turned back toward the computer screen, staring at the game in front of him. Five seconds left to choose a wire. The timer ticked down. Last chance.

He picked red. For a moment nothing happened.

Then, large red letters appeared on the screen, flashing: BOOOM! A box appeared in front of it, reading GAME OVER.

"Yes, I know," he sighed. "I know it's all over now." It was true. Kensei was gone. Sylar was defeated. Hiro had served his purpose and now he was stuck behind a desk again. It was three days after he buried Kensei. No more battle swords or princesses. Yet no matter how dangerous his work may have been, he still wished he had more to accomplish. It was good to have time to rest, but something inside of him, the hero he supposed, would not let him go.

"Still trying to save the world, Hiro?" He turned and smiled, seeing Ando stand at the entrance to his cubicle, an arm hanging over the flimsy wall.

"No, Ando," Hiro said, moving the cursor on the screen to exit out of the game. "Just going through memories."

"You know, you could always cheat. You can go back in time two minutes and pick the other wire," Ando said, coming in and sitting leisurely on Hiro's desk. Hiro pushed him back off and grabbed the papers Ando sat on to unwrinkle them.

"That would be dishonest," Hiro said. Ando rolled his eyes. "Plus, it's only a game. It isn't real. You know what happens when I use my power for personal gain." Ando shifted uneasily, remembering only too well.

"Well at least you're back now. And personal gain isn't a bad idea every once in a while." Hiro sighed. Personal gain was something that never seemed to last with him. He didn't mind it much, but Ando was right. A little enjoyment never hurt anybody… most of the time. "By the way, did you get the new memo?"

"What memo?"

"Management wants us to clear out our old e-mails. Running out of space on the server or something," Ando said in a monotone voice as though directly quoting the message. "You'd think they wouldn't send an e-mail to say delete your e-mails."

"Yeah." Hiro logged up the e-mail on his computer. As he began to go through the unimportant e-mails, starting with the most recent, he couldn't help but frown. Missing memos, deleting e-mails – is this where he was destined to be? Where was the excitement, the action? Where had the adventure gone?

"Hiro?" Hiro turned to Ando. "It's okay, Hiro. Your time will come again." The thoughts must have formed on his face. Hiro shrugged.

"When?"

"You're the bender of space and time," Ando replied. "You tell me." Hiro shook his head, turning back to the computer screen. Gazing down the list, a name caught his eye half-way down. He squinted, but it read the same as the first time.

"Ando?"

"What?"

"I've only been back three days, right?"

"Yeah… Before that you were fighting Kensei. Why do you ask?"

"I have an e-mail… from myself. And it's dated two weeks ago."

The largest questions in life never have answers given to us. What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Do we have the potential to be… extraordinary? We may never truly know.

"Ando, did you – ?"

"No, not me," Ando replied quickly, leaning toward the computer screen with interest. The subject line read URGENT! Read as soon as possible! Hiro and Ando glanced at each other, confused.

But the questions of great importance always leave clues, pieces of the puzzle, scattered for us to find.

"Open it, Hiro!" Ando tried to keep his voice down but excitement was building inside of him. Hiro felt it, too. Destiny was calling once again.

With these pieces, we hold the keys to our existence…

Hiro took a quick look out of the cubicle before deciding it was clear to look. He took a deep breath, opened the e-mail and started to read. Ando's eyes took one glance at the page and frowned.

"It's… gibberish," he exclaimed. The e-mail contained a vast variety of letters and numbers in a random order. It nearly filled the e-mail from top to bottom, going on for half a page. The only part of the e-mail that wasn't text was at the very bottom. A picture of Kaito Nakamura, his father, graced the area like an unlabelled signature. Ando shook his head in disbelief. "What are you supposed to get from this?"

Hiro gazed at the e-mail. There had to be something here.

…And unlocking them may find us one step closer to the truth.

His eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. Quickly he grabbed a piece of paper from the stack of printed e-mails on his desk. As the first page is snatched away, the second of the stack shows large black lettering.

Chapter Two
Puzzle Pieces

"It isn't gibberish, Ando," Hiro said, grabbing a pen from his desk. He was convinced. "It's a coded message."

Hartsdale, New York
Primatech Research
Mohinder, Maya, and Molly

He found himself less and less privy to the white walled and many-doored hallways of the Company's New York facility. It felt wrong, fake. He couldn't piece it together, but there always seemed to be something under the surface, something being hidden. He didn't trust it. Still, Mohinder followed the security guard toward lab D5 and the four entered.

It was an empty room with a long metallic table and seven similar chairs surrounding it. Along the wall at head height, cabinets filled with equipment were filled - test tubes, beakers, safety materials, etc. Counter space lined the walls of the room but all of it was bare save for a sink near the glass window by the door. No experiments went on in this room, at least not recently. It was too clean. No, now it was an impromptu meeting room.

The guard invited them to sit in a grunt of a voice. Mohinder didn't like him much but he, Molly and Maya sat down and waited. The guard stood, stoic, and they sat in silence. It was another ten minutes before the door to the room opened. A balding man in glasses that Mohinder recognized immediately entered the room. He looked flustered and frustrated, as always, but nonetheless in control. Bob cleared his throat as he placed two folders, stacked, on the table and began.

"Well, we are glad to have you safe after what must have been a terrible ordeal, Dr. Suresh," he said in his most apologetic tone. "We have people already on the look out for Sylar. They know what he is capable of and know what is at stake with him on the loose. He can't have left New York yet."

"How do you know?" Mohinder asked. Bob sighed.

"We don't. At the very least we know that you are safe in this building."

"How can you be sure?"

"You do realize, Dr. Suresh, that the more you question me, the more time we waste." Bob had a hint of anger in his voice. "If you would like to go over the safety precautions of this building in greater detail, I would be glad to give them to you, but now we have business to take care of."

"Business?" It was the first time Maya had spoken up. "What business?"

"I'm glad that you asked, Ms. Herrera," Bob said, grabbing the first folder from his stack and opening it. "And, yes, we know who you are, Ms. Herrera. Don't worry, we are here to help." Maya closed her mouth, her unasked question retreating within her. Bob gave her a piercing stare before passing the folder in his hands to Mohinder. He opened it quickly, looking over the documents inside. "Because of the recent breakout of Sylar as well as a few other unforeseen events we have decided that it is time for a drastic measure. And for that, Dr. Suresh, we need you."

"This… these are my documents," Mohinder said, turning the pages in awe. "This is my research, my personal research, on the human brain and it's capabilities. How did you – ?"

"Through your compiled research," Bob continued, ignoring the question, "we have found an answer to a project years in the making. The problem is we need your help to complete it."

"Another virus, I suspect."

"It would be advisable on your part, Dr. Suresh, if you would give me a chance to explain."

"Why?" Mohinder stood. The guard in the corner took a step forward. He didn't care. He was going to be heard whether they liked it or not. "Thus far, the only so-called projects this company has created were to blow up New York and spread a deadly virus! Where in these plans do you consider the people you're trying to save instead of those you're trying to exterminate?"

"Dr. Suresh!" Mohinder paused. He had never heard Bob lose his temper before. Bob's whole face was red, eyes narrowed and bald spot starting to sweat. He took a moment to take a few breaths, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose. He tried to speak calmly. "I understand that you may not agree with our methods, but we are doing this to protect people. People like you." He placed his glasses back on, his anger waning. "But if you choose not to help us, that's fine. You're not the only geneticist in New York. And, as you can see, we already have a copy of your work." He pointed to the open folder on the table. "You are not required here."

"Fine," Mohinder said spitefully. "We're leaving. Come on, Molly. Maya." Molly began to get up from her chair.

"I'm afraid, that's out of the question." Mohinder froze. No. He couldn't have said what he just said. "Molly must stay here. You may not be needed here, but Molly is. She stays."

"You can't keep her here!"

"I'm afraid I can. You may be who she stays with, but you are not her legal guardian." No, this couldn't be happening. They couldn't take her away from him. Not now, not after what she'd been through.

"Maya, let's go. We can take Molly out ourselves, they can't keep her if we –"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Suresh," Maya said, head turned away. "I must stay as well. I need to know how to control… my ability. …I'm so sorry."

He was alone. Molly, eyes full of sadness, looked up at him in despair, knowing there was nothing she could do to help. Maya kept her eyes averted, knowing she was abandoning the one person she'd met who actually tried to help her. Mohinder just stared, helpless.

"Then, I guess I'm not leaving." His gaze stayed on Molly, who smiled weakly. "I'm not leaving her here."

"Good. I'm glad you've seen it our way, Dr. Suresh."

Detroit, MI
The Detroit Chronicle Offices
Sam Jacobson

They were all laughing at him. All of them. He slammed the door to the office behind him and started to walk towards his desk. He'd had it. These people didn't believe a word he said, they never did, but it was all the truth. Every single word of it.
If only he had proof.

"Hey Sam!" Christie called, blonde curls bouncing behind her, as she walked over from her desk in a long dark-brown skirt and white blouse. She copied his steps passed a series of desks. Sam hardly noticed her but nodded in acknowledgement. "So… how'd it go?"

"You didn't hear them laughing?" Sam said, grabbing angrily at the suspenders under his jacket and jockeying them into a comfortable position. "Heck, they're still laughing! I swear I'm cursed or something."

"You're not cursed, Sam. Just…" She stopped. Not only because they arrived at his desk, but because she didn't know how to put it. He did.

"Unlucky. Yeah, I know." He plopped down into a brown, wooden swivel chair and stared sulkily at the computer on his desk.

"You've got to admit, though, your stories are a bit… fantastic to believe." Sam looked up sternly. "A guy who could, uh, melt metal? A mechanic who could 'hear' what was wrong with your truck?"

"I'm not making it up," Sam replied.

"I know you're not," she said, not quite meeting his eyes, "but it's not the stories they're looking for. They're looking for something real."

"I don't look for them. They find me. How was I supposed to know the minute I try to get a second look at these people, they vanish from the face of the Earth? In fact, when I was headed to Houston to report on that conference, I swear I saw the most amazing thing."

"What?"

"I was heading through Louisiana and I passed by this building four streets down that was on fire. No police, no fire department. Just a kid standing outside. Then this other kid ran past my truck and actually ran in the building!"

"You saw someone commit suicide?" Christie said, eyes wide.

"No! …Well, I don't think I did. It didn't look like suicide. He looked… heroic." He seemed surprised, even to himself, that he used such a word.

"Well?" Christie asked, waiting intently. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Sam sulked. "The building went up after he went in. Maybe it was just a death wish." Christie patted him on the shoulder. "Then, just as I get to Houston, I get re-assigned to Odessa and that was a catastrophe."

"It's okay, Sam," she said, taking a seat on his desk. "You'll get your story that saves your butt. You always do."

"Yeah, I know." Sam tried to wash off the pity he knew Christie was piling on, but she was right. He needed a good story and he needed one now.

"Jeez!" Christie yelled, jumping up from the desk like something shocked her. The phone rang again on Sam's desk and he picked it up.

"Sam Jacobson, Detroit Chronicle," he said monotonously. "Uh huh. Yeah, I was there. Saw the whole thing. Uh huh. Well, as soon as I heard it, I turned around. I've been around some pretty crazy situations lately and I –" Sam froze. He was trying to remember something, then it hit him.

"Yeah, yeah, I think I snapped a photo." Sam smiled. "Of course. It'll be developed in a few hours. Great! I'll see you when you get here!" He hung up the phone and grinned to himself.

"Who was that?"

"I think my next story just found me."

Odessa, TX
Courier General Hospital
Peter Petrelli

"How's he looking, Doc?" Peter asked, arms folded in front of him. The doctor scratched his head with his free hand, holding a clipboard in his other.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli, over the course of the previous night, your brother suffered massive heart failure. We were able to stabilize him, but not before his heart rate dropped dramatically and his blood pressure plummeted. We're not quite sure what caused it, but the damage has been done. After the past few days, he's lucky to be alive."

"Is he going to be alright?" Peter held his breath.

"It's hard to say," the doctor replied. Peter sighed. Nathan couldn't die. Not now. A nurse walked down the hallway, meeting up with the doctor and handing him a few papers. He nodded, looking them over, and raised an eyebrow questionably. "That's interesting…"

"What is?" Peter asked.

"Your brother has been approved for a hospital transfer to Hartsdale, New York. Effective immediately."

"Hartsdale?" Peter replied. "Why does that sound familiar?" He couldn't quite place the resemblance. The doctor began walking towards Nathan's hospital door. "Hey! Hey Doc! Who requested the transfer?"

"Angela Petrelli."

Linden, NJ
Highway 514
Sylar

He was weak. And he despised feeling weak. His power had returned, yes, but not at full strength. Not at one-hundred-percent. And that was unacceptable.

Thumb outstretched, he walked backwards along the grassy highway strip. Some unlucky sap was bound to pull over soon. They always did. And, wouldn't you know it, a dark-haired man in a dark blue station wagon pulled over to the side of the road, all smiles. Not his first choice in a car, but it would do.

"Need a ride, sir?" the man asked. Sylar smiled back.

"Why, yes, I do." He got into the car, careful not to slam it behind him. Wouldn't want this guy to think him inconsiderate.

"Where you headed?" That was the question, wasn't it? He couldn't stay in the area. No, it wasn't safe. The Company was looking for him and he didn't have the luxury of being completely in control. Where could he hurt them most where he could have the advantage? Then, it came to him.

"Odessa," Sylar said. "Odessa, TX. I have some family that I need to see."

"Well, I'm not going that far, but I can take you to the Jersey turnpike."

"That'll be fine." Sylar smiled again. The car took off. No, the driver wouldn't be going far at all. Besides, the Jersey turnpike seemed as good a place as any to dump a body.

Hartsdale, NY
Primatech Research
Mohinder and Bob

"Where are we going?" Mohinder asked as he followed Bob down the hallway, escorted by two security guards. Bob sighed, ignoring yet another question. This didn't help Mohinder's trust in the Company, but he had no choice. He had to work for them… for Molly's sake. At the end of the hallway, they arrived at an elevator and went inside it. The two security guards didn't follow them. As the doors closed behind them, Bob pulled out a small silver key, inserted it into a slot beneath the elevator buttons, and turned.

Immediately, the whole elevator gave a small jolt and the yellow fluorescent lights in the ceiling turned light blue. "What was that?" Mohinder asked.

"One of those safety precautions you were asking about," Bob replied. "Believe me, we have many." The elevator moved down. Mohinder kept his silence, unsure of what his work may include. When the elevator reached the bottom (or what he assumed must be the bottom from how long it took), the doors opened and…

"Hey, Daddy," Elle said with a smile. Still with an arm in a sling, Elle switched her gaze over to Mohinder. "What's he doing here?"

"Working," Bob said, stepping out of the elevator with Mohinder quickly following in suit. The level looked like an underground version of the upstairs facility with no windows showing what lay behind the oak doors. Faint groaning could be heard near the end of the hallway.

"I was hoping I could talk with you," Elle said, keeping up. "You know, about – "

"No." He didn't even turn to say it.

"But Daddy…"

"I said no, Elle. You are not at full potential and you've already failed me one too many times." There was an open door coming up. Mohinder peeked inside as they passed. It was another hallway, darker, and the groaning seemed to be coming from it. It didn't look like a medical area; more like a row of holding cells. Before he could get a better look, though, a security guard exited the door and closed it behind him.

"They said the sling could come off in a few days and I still could – "

Bob halted, surprising Mohinder so much he almost ran into him. Bob turned toward his daughter, sternly staring her down. "I will not have you out there against one of the most dangerous men this Company has had to face. Sylar is being dealt with, Elle. We have enough agents in the field – "

"And I'm one of the best ones you have." Elle stood her ground. Mohinder watched on as the two stared each other down. "Please. Just one more chance. That's all I'm asking for." He could see Bob thinking firmly about the situation.

"Meet me in my office in an hour," Bob said finally, turning around and continuing his walk down the hallway. It looked as though Elle wanted to say 'thank you' but she turned back around and headed for the elevator. Mohinder followed Bob all the way to the door at the end of the hallway. It was steel-plated with a keypad beside it. Bob punched in some numbers and the sound of huge locks within the doorframe emitted as the door trembled. "Kids these days," Bob said as the door swung open and he stepped inside the blue-lit room.

Immediately, questions began to fill Mohinder's mind as he stepped inside and he couldn't help uttering them. "What is this place? What is that read-out?" His head swung back-and-forth before settling on the figure on the large silver table. "Is that… Maury Parkman?" Bob sighed heavily.

Odessa, TX
Courier General Hospital
Peter Petrelli

"Really? Wow. You can do that?" Peter asked through the cell phone at his ear. "Matt, that's great! It's a little, you know, dishonest but we'll deal with that later."

"Dishonest?" Matt's voice hummed through the phone. "Peter, I'm still doing my job. I've just… been assigned to a very specific case."

"You made your boss put you on solving my brother's shooting with your mind." Peter spoke in a less than audible tone. "You've got to admit that –"

"I'm helping you out, right?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then, what's the problem?" Peter hesitated. He didn't want to tell Matt that what he was doing to other people was wrong. It was helping, even if he had to change some people's minds to do it.

"Nothing," Peter replied. He'd deal with it later. "So, have you gotten anywhere with who shot my brother?"

"Actually, I have." There was a shuffle on the other end of the line. "Found a guy who was at the press conference. He's in Detroit. Can you be there by tomorrow?"

He was immediately going to say "yes" before he thought of his brother. His mother was sending him back to New York for whatever reason and he wanted to fight it. Something in him stopped him, though. Nathan was going to be fine. No matter what strange dreams he'd had before, Nathan was going to be okay.

"Sure. I'll be there."

"Great! I'll see you in Detroit." Peter hung up the phone and turned around.

"Sorry about that," Peter said to the man standing beside him.

"Nah, it's fine," the man said with a smile. "Gotta take care of business, right?"

"Right. Now, what were you asking me before?"

"Have you seen this kid before?" He held up a picture and Peter gazed at it. It looked like a high school photo, but the kid seemed older – at least in his twenties – with blonde hair and green eyes and the photo seemed more candid. "Been hassling some of the patients lately and we were hoping the police could have a look at him. So, seen him?" He looked vaguely familiar, but not enough that it meant anything.

"Sorry, can't say I have," Peter replied. The man looked him dead in the eyes before putting the picture away in a pocket. He didn't exactly look like a doctor though his white coat extended all the way to the floor, like a trench coat. "Who are you again?"

"Burbank," the man said, grinning and nodding his head. "Head of hospital security. Can't be too careful, you know."

"Yeah." This Burbank character was still staring at him eerily.

"I get the feeling this won't be the last time we meet, Mr. Petrelli."

"Well, my brother's getting transferred so it probably is."

"Sure, Mr. Petrelli," Burbank said, straightening his coat. "Sure. Until we meet again."

"Goodbye, Mr. Burbank." Peter turned and started down the hallway for the elevator. He peeked over his shoulder. Mr. Burbank was staring through the window of a hospital room. Not his brother's, but the one beside it. And he was smiling.

Hartsdale, NY
Primatech Research
Elle Bishop

She walked in to find Bob's office empty. He wasn't here yet. Patient as she always was, she went behind his desk immediately and shoved his mouse from side-to-side. The screen came to life. Her father's e-mails were presented to her and what good was it to sit there without reading a few.

The first was an interdepartmental memo about Suresh's involvement in a special project down in the lower levels. Molly's re-involvement with the Company and Little Miss Black Tears's training were included. Boring.

Next one was a reminder of Kaito Nakamura's death. Honor and duty and responsibility were said so many times she wanted to gag. Depressing. Wasn't there anything interesting to read?

Then, she read the next one's subject title: a whole bunch of random letters and numbers jumbled together ending with a name – Elle. She clicked on it immediately. A dialog box popped up asking for a password. There were password-coded e-mails? Annoying.

"What are you doing?" She looked up quickly, minimizing the e-mail program. Bob gave her a piercing stare.

"Waiting for you, Daddy," Elle said, smiling. She got out of his seat and he took it. Sitting opposite him, she leaned forward slightly. "So?"

"So, I've given it a lot of thought." He hesitated. Just thought? Elle kept a cool face. "And I agree that you have proven yourself to be well over-par more times than not." Elle's smile widened. "But this is a warning. If anything goes wrong, I will have no choice but to take you off active field duty. I can't have you disappoint me again, understand?"

"Clear as crystal." She got what she wanted. Now, it was time to give Sylar what he deserved. "So, where do I start?"

"You know policy, Elle," Bob said. "Everyone gets a partner."

"Well? Who is it?" Bob reached over to his phone, pressed a button and spoke into the speaker.

"Send them in." The door opened…

…and in walked Molly Walker. Elle raised her eyebrows. "You can't be serious," she said, grinning over at Molly. The girl stood by Bob's desk, head down. "Aw… I don't think you're quite ready for field assignments yet, Molly."

"No," said a voice by the door. Elle turned. "She isn't." Noah Bennett stared her down. Elle's face fell into anger.

"What's he doing here?"

"You know the policy, Elle," Noah said, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose gently. "One of us, one of them."

"Daddy, you can't honestly believe that he's – "

"He's ready for assignments, Elle," Bob declared. "And he's completely qualified for the job. Besides, he's the one who caught Sylar the last time."

"He's the one who held me captive!" Elle spat, not taking her eyes off Bennett.

"You helped to steal my daughter. I think it was a fair trade."

"Well, it looks like the two of you will be fast friends," Bob sighed, eyeing them beadily. Elle crossed her arms indignantly. This was so not what she was expecting. "You'll start immediately. This is what you wanted, isn't it, Elle?"

"Yes, Daddy." It didn't matter. She got what she wanted… mostly. "Where do we start?" Bob smiled and turned to Molly. The girl lifted her head slightly.

"Well, Molly," Bob said. "Where do we find Sylar?" Molly nodded and closed her eyes. Elle glanced at her a moment. Whatever she thought of the girl, she was at least useful.

Tokyo, Japan
Yamagato Industries
Hiro and Ando

Ando sat blissfully unaware, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, outside of Hiro's cubicle. Just resting his eyes, of course, even if he was supposed to be keeping a lookout for Korumu in case he decided to check-in with Hiro. Currently, though, he was having a very happy dream about Niki Sanders. Oh, if only he knew where she was now, he'd definitely meet up with her again in a heartbeat. Oh, Niki…

"Um… Ando?" He woke up instantly to find Wendy Riu standing in front of him with a large folder filled with papers clutched in her hands.

"Wendy. Um, hello!" He tried to look as though he had been doing something beforehand, but nothing came to mind.

"Is Hiro in there?" Wendy asked, trying to peek into the cubicle with eager eyes. Ando covered it up as best he could.

"Yes, but… he's busy," Ando replied. "Are those for him?"

"Yes. Korumu wants these into the system before the end of the day." Wendy still tried to look in, but Ando followed her leaning in a mirror-like pose. Quickly, he took the folder from Wendy.

"I'll make sure he gets them. Bye Wendy."

"Okay," she said, starting to walk away. "Tell Hiro I said hello."

"Got it. Bye Wendy."

"Okay. Bye." As soon as she was out of earshot, Ando went into the cubicle, tossing the folder somewhere on the desk carelessly.

"What are those?" Hiro asked, turning to look at the folder.

"Nothing important," Ando said, taking a seat on the desk and leaning toward the computer screen. "Have you deciphered it yet, Hiro?" Hiro pushed him off the desk for the fourth time today, straightening the papers he sat on. Ando rolled his eyes.

"Not entirely," Hiro said, bringing up the e-mail on one side of the screen and his deciphering on the other. "The only reason I recognized it is because it's an old cipher my father taught me when I was fifteen. He told me that great men often have great secrets and to keep those secrets they must be held with great caution."

"Your father was a great man." Hiro smiled.

"Here is what I have figured out so far," Hiro said. Double-clicking the deciphered version of the e-mail, the text got bigger. He read it, keeping his voice down. "Dear Hiro, it is urgent that this message reach you soon. I do not know when next you will arrive as, no doubt, you are still in the past. I cannot explain how important this information is to your future. You must warn the world before – " Hiro paused, sighing. "And from there the phrases start to get disjointed. There's 'three months' and 'fighting time' or 'fought time' and something about 'control'. There's also something that I think is saying 'ice man'."

"So you sent this to yourself two weeks ago?" Ando asked, trying to make sense of it.

"It looks like it. But I don't know why I rushed the ending. Did anything happen two weeks ago?"

Ando shrugged. "Korumu caught me playing Super Speedster at my desk. I found the notes you sent me from Kensei's time. Wendy's car got stolen, but she didn't seem too unhappy about it. Then again, she is the one who think Korumu can do no wrong. That's about it." Ando frowned. Hiro knew just as well as he did that the lack of answers was frustrating. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one phrase. 'Second coming'," Hiro replied. He stared at the rest of the e-mail inquisitively. How could all this fit together? "Ice man."

The world is not ready for all of it's secrets to be revealed.

His eyes moved over the picture of his father at the bottom of the e-mail. He had to be missing something.

But once in a long while, the pieces of the puzzle are laid before you.

Looking closer, he saw something. A cluster of pixels on his father's jacket were out of place. The harder he looked at it, the more he noticed the cluster was in the shape of the Godsend symbol. His interest piqued, he ran the mouse over it. It was clickable. Click.

And, with a keen intellect, the picture the puzzle makes can be far more important than the pieces themselves.

A new window popped up immediately. It was a small photo captured by what had to be a digital camera. His eyes widened. It showed a dirty street corner slightly obscured by the lower torso and legs of a man, but that wasn't what surprised him most. The street corner, the man's legs, the trash on the roadside – everything was covered in ice. Ando looked up and gave the screen the same expression.

"What's this?" he asked, confused.

"...Ice man."

TO BE CONTINUED…