Amanda

The dream still haunted her after many, many days. The face of her elusive mother kept her up at night. Blonde hair, pale eyes, the pert nose that resembled so much of Amanda's own face… was daunting. And despite arriving to a new continent, new state and new city, those thoughts still seemed to be the only thing that was on her mind. Amanda tried to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order as she wandered around her new home. Was it home, really? She still yearned to go back… to Australia. And life in the city of streaming lights and life, New York City, was something else entirely.

The new apartment she and her father were now living in was the epitome of an urban lifestyle. It was a huge, spacious loft with high-arched windows that viewed the city. Leather couches scattered all around the wood panelled floors, complementing the bricked walls. It all felt new, and nothing from back home was allowed to be here. There were no frames of Amanda in her childhood years, nothing of the sort. This place didn't feel like home. It felt like an escape place. A safe house. Amanda didn't know why she felt that way.

Nevertheless, other important matters still clogged her mind. Her power wasn't working. She couldn't read anyone's thoughts and her frustration grew further. She wanted to ask her dad, but he kept avoiding her. Was her powers… gone? Impossible, she thought. They never left, only when she was on those goddamn pills.

The wooden floors creaked and the door at the front closed, signifying someone's arrival and interrupting Amanda's train of thought. Amanda, jumped, and turned around from the window, looking to see her Dad in the hallway. "Hey," she said lightly. "Where were you?"

He was wearing a crisp suit with a red bowtie. His glasses were hanging off his nose and his dark hair was wet, perhaps from the rain. He put down his carrier bag. "I was with Noah. Talking about important things. What'd you get up to today?" Why did Amanda get the feeling he was trying to get evasive?

She dodged his question. "What kind of things did you talk about with Noah?" She padded across the floor nonchalantly, crossing her arms.

His dark eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Nothing that concerns you…" Up close, he looked exhausted. He had dark shadows under his eyes and his face expressed weariness. He looked awful.

"Wow, Dad…" Amanda said, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" Worry coloured her voice and all that mattered right now was her father. Even though he had avoided Amanda at all costs these past few days ever since she told the dream about her mum.

He sighed and took off his glasses slowly, shoulders sagging. "Amanda," he said coldly. "There's a lot of things going on and you know that. You've watched the news right? My job right now concerns the matters that are happening."

She watched the news, all right. There were unexplained deaths occurring all over New York. No one knew how and why it was happening… but Amanda knew that these deaths weren't just random and of course, ordinary humans weren't going to find the cause of them. People like her, 'gifted' people, had these abilities. Hers was telepathy. Who knew what afters were blessed with?

She nodded at his question and steered her thoughts at him. "Any progress?" she said, wishing that they found any trace. She tried to enter his thoughts but couldn't find a trace on them. What was happening? She disbarred the medication that blocked her ability, so why weren't they working?

He thawed and put his hands on his daughter's shoulder and looked at her thoughtfully. She saw a hint of her father before all his mess came crashing down on them, she saw the father that would smile at her and give her noogies on her head, both of them laughing. She saw the father that would buy her donuts in the middle of the night. She saw the father that wasn't always haunted by his past. "We're doing the best we can, right now. But we found a potential suspect or someone who can help us of some sort. Her name's Diana Maddox. We don't know anything about her, and her ability isn't written down. But so far we know, is that she was on the painting that was prophesised."

She processed all this and amid her thoughts Amanda gasped. She saw the paintings her father was talking about. They weren't promising a good future. "Dad, I want to help."

He took his hands off her and crossed his arms, mirroring her position. "We talked about this, Mandy. You're way too young and it's dangerous."

She nearly stomped her foot like a petulant child. What made her more annoyed, was the fact that she couldn't read his mind at all. Her cheeks flushed and she fisted her palms, nails digging in. "But Dad –"

Sounds like glass-shattering cut off her speech. It seemed to come from the kitchen. She and her father jumped. Her dad whirled his head at the sound and looked back at Amanda. "Don't move," he whispered at her. No way in hell, she thought.

Her dad took stealthy moves into the kitchen, which was huge. She trailed his footsteps slowly, her heart pounding against her chest. It's probably a burglar… or maybe a random ball hit the window in the kitchen…

Then her father made a yelping nose and he stopped short, causing Amanda to bump into him. He tried to block out the view when Amanda pushed him away. "Go back," He warned Amanda, not looking at her. His voice made her even more frightened. "Amanda, I said, get back."

"What?" she breathed, surprised her heart hadn't fallen out of her chest.

A feminine voice reverberated throughout the apartment, the source coming from the kitchen. Her dad froze in front of her, so did Amanda. The voice… reminded her of…

The dream.

"Oh, Carl… you can't keep me away forever." The voice chortled. "Oh, sweetie, I am always in your dreams whether you like it or not and I am always running."

A chill ran down Amanda's spine and fear rose from the surface. She pushed her father away with effort as he tried to barricade her from the person talking and from Amanda. But she ducked under his arm fluidly. And what she saw was her. Except it wasn't her, it just looked like her but in an older version. The blonde hair, the blue, pale eyes that were always sparkling. But these eyes were cold and lacked any feeling. These were the eyes of her mother.

Amanda couldn't breathe.

She was so beautiful in the flesh. The Victoria's Secret models had nothing on her. She was gracefully tall, her high-heeled boots giving her a couple inches boost. Her tresses were long and golden; complementing her lightly tanned skin and wide pale eyes. She looked like a venging goddess.

The women, her mum, smiled, though it lacked warmth. She gazed at Amanda and cocked her head curiously. "Oh, my…" she cooed, one perfectly shaped eyebrow perking. The women turned her gaze on Dad. "She looks just like me, Carl. Look at her… my daughter, Amanda." She outstretched an arm and spoke in a melodic-trancing voice. "Come to me… we can save the world together."

Peter

The impossible happened. Peter's powers came running back and all day, a variety of abilities abruptly came rushing out of him – electricity cackling out of his fingers, an orb of fire floating atop his palm. All those abilities that he had absorbed back when he had that power. He thought he had lost it when Arthur had stolen them. He was consumed by euphoria after his revelation amid the discussion with the people in the room that he ran straight out of the 2nd story window, shards of glass flying out and prickling him but he didn't care. Because he knew he would heal anyway.

At first, panic arose when nothing happened and his imagination veered to the possibility of falling face-first from the second story building. But then he felt it. That feeling he got when he felt the molecules and cells in his body combine into a one faction and the feeling of the air at his mercy and the feeling of freedom. He pushed out his chest and outstretched his arms, laughing and wooing with delight as he swerved into the air, the wind blowing through his chocolate brown hair. He veered away, flying in the direction of his mother's house – where everyone was – and saw that they were standing at the window, gawking at Peter and his newfound powers.

His ability of absorption was back. And he was ready to save the world.

Hours later…

"This is extraordinary." Mohinder stared at the screen with great concentration, eyeing Peter's DNA helix structure with a meticulous eye. "Your genes... specifically the one that carries your abilities have been triggered by some sort of energy."

After Peter discovered that his abilities were certainly back, Mohinder, as curious and scientific as he was, came to investigate it, ushering him to his friend's lab. He had taken a blood sample from Peter, and began tapping away at his computer, murmuring nonsensical stuff that Peter couldn't comprehend.

Peter, siting in the chair in the lab, gaped at Mohinder then curved his body to glance at the screen.

"What does that mean?"

Mohinder swerved around in his chair, clasping his hands. "Your powers, when they were forcibly stolen by Arthur, they were still in your DNA, but." He paused for dramatic effect, exhaling. "They were dormant, lost, per-say, but there was no way to retrieve them back but... until this energy. I'll do some research with my physicist friend and he'll study it, because I haven't seen anything like it. This energy, whatever it is, triggered and roused your gene and therefore, you have your abilities back."

"Energy," Peter repeated. "I got an F in physics, you better explain what the hell that means." Peter shook his head, raked a hand through his hair and stared around the laboratory. Pale walls and floors, chemical

Mohinder, eyes alight, pointed a section of DNA on the screen. "See here – that red spot?" Peter nodded when he saw the ring of red on the helix. "That is some form of energy. My guess? It's foreign. You know I'm one of theories, Pete… but the odds of the one I'm thinking right now is not even possible."

"Just say it, Mohinder," Peter prodded.

"OK," Mohinder sighed and looked at him dead-on. "In physical cosmology, there is a hypothetical energy…" He gestured with his hands, creating a circle. "And by speculation, this red circle on the helix here has an odd acceleration rate when I click on this button." He pointed to a button, clicked it, and Peter saw that the red circle was moving in a strange away, flickering here and there, shifting from the colour red to a dark colour, black. "It's so dense… and by theory, and I emphasise that, I think it could be Dark Energy."

"Dark Energy?"

Mohinder nodded, biting his lip. "Peter…" He hesitated, and then exhaled. "In all our experience, where do you think this strange 'thing' is more likely to occur?"

There was a stretched silence. Peter and Mohinder stared at each other and there only sound that was present was the clock ticking when each second passed. They looked at each other when the truth dawned on them.

"From an evolved human," Peter whispered. Mohinder nodded. Comprehension settled within him. "Oh my god… Diana."

Mohinder looked momentarily confused. "Sorry, what?"

"She touched me and this thing happened…" Peter recounted the strange anomaly between Diana in her hospital bed and him, how he had touched her hands and light erupted everywhere.

Mohinder's voice grew serious, causing Peter's blood to run cold. "If my theory is true, then this girl is the genesis of our downfall. To us all."