Author's Note and Disclaimer: As part of the AU stuff, the Petrellis were/are in no way involved in the Company or the Academy. For once. Their family history is still mostly the same other than things that would have been changed because of that. I still don't own anything. The original concept still belongs to Daria234.

New Jersey

The Academy

"Miss Bennet, we have an assignment for you."

Claire couldn't believe her ears, even with the words still ringing in the air. It was impossible. Nobody got assignments while still at the Academy- nobody! Well, that wasn't entirely true. Some of the top students would occasionally go on carefully chaperoned, Level One assignments with older Agents. And here they were, giving her the chance she'd been waiting her whole life for! She'd have been lying if she'd said her heart hadn't accelerated a little.

But she didn't show her ecstatic response. Instead she nodded, and waited.

Her patience was rewarded a few moments later when Noah said, "There's a group of four Specials tearing up Lower Manhattan. Thugs, mostly, but there's one who's got us worried. Benjamin Washington, more commonly known as Knox. He's a clever one, and he seems to be in charge, from what we can tell. Anders and Mitchum had him pinned down in L.A. a few months ago, but he gave them the slip and we didn't hear of him again until he turned up in New York last month."

"What's his ability?" she asked clinically.

It was Bishop who answered. "Sadism-induced super-strength," he said.

Claire narrowed her eyes, not understanding. It wasn't one she'd heard of before. "Um, can you explain what that means, sir?"

"He gets strong off other people's fear," Noah explained. "He's an extremely dangerous individual. Claire, if you don't want to accept the assignment, we can give it to somebody else."

"No, I'll take the assignment," she exclaimed, tripping over her tongue in her haste to assure them of her intent. "I've waited a long time for an opportunity like this!"

Suddenly, the study door burst open. "So have I!" a voice exclaimed from behind her. Claire twisted around in her chair and saw Elle, Bishop's daughter, standing in the doorway. Clearly she had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

Elle was somewhat infamous at the Academy. Notoriously sadistic and unstable, she had nearly flunked out of the Academy. Only her father's influence had kept her on the fast-track to becoming an Agent. "You said I could take Knox," she hissed in rage, blue sparks beginning to dance across her hands and forearms. "You promised, Daddy."

Bishop didn't look at his daughter, too intent on studying the files on the desk in front of him. "That was before you blew it with Gabriel Gray. You let him walk, Elle. You should have taken him in when you had the chance. We've been over this, Elle. You're benched until further notice."

Claire stared at the electric blonde in amazement. Everyone at the Academy had heard of Gabriel Gray, now known as Sylar. He was a power-hungry intuit currently rampaging across the continent, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. And everyone knew that the reason he was still free was on the shoulders of an Agent- but no one had known who. It had been a carefully kept secret. The fact that it was Elle, of all people, struck Claire as slightly hilarious. They should've known better to send an unstable Agent after an unstable subject.

The rumor had gone around that the Agent had been female, of course, and that there had been some kind of romantic attraction between she and Sylar. With the additional information she had just received, she wasn't surprised. Elle was a terrible flirt. Claire was sure she'd do better. Everyone knew that you never got involved with the subject. Not for real, anyway.

"But..." Elle's eyes were full of unshed tears. "Daddy, you promised."

"No more argument," Bishop replied, still not looking at her. "Claire is being given this assignment."

The tears spilled over, and Elle whispered, "I hate you." It wasn't clear whether she was talking to Claire or to Bishop, but she fled before anyone could ask.

Claire turned back to face her father and the director. She knew all too well that it wasn't her place to comment on Elle's wild behavior. Not only was it rude, it would probably violate Company protocol. Your superiors were your superiors. You didn't get involved in their personal life, and you didn't offer advice on matters outside Company business. So instead of what she wanted to say, she asked, "When do you want me to start?"

Peter's Apartment

Manhattan

He had to be at work in an hour, but Peter Petrelli was unwilling to get out of bed just yet. He'd had a dream. He wasn't quite sure what it had been about, but it was sticking with him. All he could recall was a flash of light reflecting off something metallic and then a woman's voice, screaming something he couldn't quite make out.

It seemed like a pretty normal dream, except that the timbre of the dream felt... off. Like it was echoing from somewhere else. That happened sometimes. He would have ignored the dream if it hadn't had that feel to it. But he'd learned from experience that it was a bad idea to forget about the dreams. And so he lay in bed, staring at the water stain on the ceiling and trying to remember something, anything, to help explain whatever it was that was coming. But it seemed to be a useless endeavor, and finally he gave up.

Peter got out of bed and ran a hand through his hair. He had a bad feeling that it was going to be one of those days. He walked barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. When he pulled open the refrigerator, he grimaced at what he saw- shelves completely empty aside from a jar of pickle relish and a carton from the Chinese take-out place around the corner. Then he couldn't help but laugh. God, was he a classic bachelor or what?

Foregoing breakfast, he settled on a cup of coffee. Rather than wait for his aged BrewMaster to churn out its usual offering of flavorless sludge, Peter elected to heat the water himself. He placed his hand under the bottom of the pot and allowed a small but fiercely hot flame to erupt in his palm. Within moments, the water had boiled.

Peter smiled to himself. That one, he had borrowed from Nathan's high school girlfriend, Meredith. It was one of his favorites.

It had been a strange day when he realized that he- he of all people- was one of the evolved humans. Special. Powerful. It had taken him a long time to understand his power. For a long time, he believed he could fly, like his brother. But after a few weeks of experimenting, he began to realize that it was more than that.

Actually, it had been Daphne who first showed him how his power really worked. He had been having dinner with her and her fiance, Matt Parkman, when he finally decided to confide to his two oldest friends the truth about himself. Daphne had been ecstatic, and immediately demanded that he show them. He could still picture that night very clearly as he thought about it.

The city air had been clear of smog for once, and the stars were just barely visible through the glare of the streetlights. They had been in the business district. Peter had insisted, because he didn't particularly want to advertise his ability to the world the way some "enhanced" individuals did. The deserted streets of Midtown at night seemed like the perfect place.

He had intended to take a running start, better to launch into the air, but somehow, instead he was just running. Before he could understand what was happening, he had collided with a building two blocks away and gone sprawling. An instant later, Daphne and Matt appeared at his side. Peter was stunned. "You too?" he asked.

"Yep," Daphne had said. "It started happening a few years ago, right around the time my cerebral palsy went away. You didn't say you were a speedster, too!"

"But I'm not! I wasn't-- I was trying to fly!"

She tapped her finger against her mouth thoughtfully. "That doesn't make any sense," she said slowly. Then her eyes lit up. "I bet I know what it is. Matt, do you think--?"

"Definitely," Matt said. "With the odds the way they are, there had to be at least one in the City. Never would have figured it would be Peter, though!"

Peter got to his feet. "What are you talking about?"

Daphne smirked. "I think you might be an empath!"

He stared. Anyone who didn't deny the existence of the evolved humans had heard of empaths. They were extremely rare, and tended to be extremely powerful. Some of the most powerful could contain up to six or seven borrowed powers at once. "But... but how could I be...?"

Matt laughed at the expression of utter shock on Peter's face. "Pete, one of the most important traits of an empath is empathy, and you've got that in spades. It should've been obvious. Now c'mon, man. Take my power. Try to read my mind!"

It had been a relief to be able to confide his secret to someone besides Nathan. But short on the heels of that revelation had come another one equally as shocking, one that he didn't confide to anyone. He wasn't just an empath. The most powerful empath on record had been Emilio Sergez, and the man had had an upper limit of eight powers that he could hold onto. The moment it occurred to him that he was juggling at least a dozen unique abilities had been the most surreal moments of Peter's life.

So no, Peter wasn't just an empath. He was quite possibly the most powerful person in history. It scared him a little bit, knowing how much power he had sitting quietly within him. And so he kept quiet, and didn't tell Nathan what he had discovered. He didn't tell Daphne and he didn't tell Matt. Every once in awhile, he would use his gifts as quietly as possible to help someone, but that was all. Sometimes he thought he should be doing more. With the things he could do, he ought to be doing more. But he had no idea what to do or where to begin, and since the only ideas that sprang to mind involved tights and a cape and that was just too ridiculous to even consider.

His phone rang, startling him out of his reminiscing. He picked up. "Hello?"

"Peter?"

He smiled unconsciously. "Simone," he said. "Is everything alright? How's your dad?"

"He's fine, actually. He's awake today. First time he's been conscious in a week. I was wondering if you could come by a little earlier and see him," Simone replied.

"Oh. Oh sure, no problem. I'll be there in ten minutes," he said. They exchanged some brief pleasantries, then she ended the conversation.

Peter grinned despite himself as he pulled his coat on. Simone Deveaux was his patient's beautiful daughter. Although he knew it was inappropriate, he had to admit that he had a bit of a crush on her. She was smart and alluring and interesting. She made his daily life a great deal more interesting when she would waft into her father's room like a butterfly to alight a moment and engage him in conversation for a few minutes. But he didn't kid himself that there would ever be anything between them. It just wasn't going to happen.

He walked out the front door of his building and glanced around. As usual, the city streets were full of people. Not exactly ideal for a speedy departure. He'd have walk at normal speed until he got to the alleyway a few blocks down the street where he could slip out of sight and speed away.

As he entered the alley, he realized too late that he wasn't alone. Out of the shadows, a trio of men encircled him. "Hey guys," he said, raising his hands, "I'm not looking for trouble."

Then a fourth man stepped out from behind a Dumpster. His dark eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light that filtered down between the buildings. "Well well well," he said. "What've we got here?" He stepped between his companions to examine Peter closely. "That's a nice watch, Prettyboy. Expensive watch. Anybody who can afford a nice watch like that can afford to share, can't he?"

"I don't think so," Peter said. He could handle this, he told himself. It wasn't exactly how he'd imagined his commute to work going, but he could handle this. But telling himself that didn't do him any good. A thrill of fear ran through him.

The man stepped still closer, towering over him. "Yeah, I guess you don't. But, uh, I do." Quick as lightning, his dark-skinned hand shot out and seized Peter around the neck. Peter threw out his own hand and threw a fireball at the man, but his aim was wide, and an impossibly tight squeeze from the man holding his throat cut off his air supply and forced him to drop his hands.

"Hey boys, looks like we caught ourselves a little pyro!" he exlaimed. "Think we should invite him to join the team?"

Peter heard laughter. "Nah, Knox, he's just a small-timer. We've already got one flamethrower. We don't need another one," said shaven-headed man standing just behind Knox. He raised his hand and engulfed it in blue fire.

As Peter's heart accelerated in fear, Knox's dark eyes got a wild look in them. He released him, and for a moment, Peter thought he'd be able to escape. But then pain exploded in his stomach. He looked down; there was a bloody hole directly in the center of his gut, from which Knox's fists withdrew. He stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The agony spread in waves across his entire body, and he dropped to his knees, staring at the red stain on his chest. The world whirled around him as his life ebbed away.

Before his vision went dark, Peter saw sunlight glinting off metal into his eyes. A blonde woman crashed into Knox, yelling something he couldn't understand. And then everything went black.

Alright, yeah, not my best, I know. I had a difficult time getting this out on paper. Well, hypothetical paper. But I tried. Review and make me feel slightly better about myself.