(A/N – I would like to apologize in advance for anything anyone might read here. It's almost impossible not to bring up the topic of religion when talking about evolution, nowadays, and I went straight for the big cheese of a rather large section of the religion world. Personally, I don't believe Jesus was the son of God, but he most definitely was one of the greatest people ever to live. If anyone deserved to have a religion follow him, he does. Nor do I wish to anger anyone, or insult their beliefs This is just my take on the Heroes Universe. I'm sorry if anyone is upset by the words involving religion in this. I would give both of my hands if everyone could just get along, and I think of my hands as my greatest asset. They allow me to write, physically. Without them, I would probably go insane. I pray that you let me off on this, and let it go as just good humor. I mean no disrespect, but I will not flinch when it comes to plot. If I can think of something, I will use it, no matter who I offend. I just hope people realize that I don't mean in it in real life. I could go on and on, apologizing for this, but I won't.
Again, Sorry if I offended you. –Traumedy101)
Peter Petrelli
San Ribero
Peter woke with his head aching and sweat pouring down his face. It was so hot for New York. Then he looked around. He wasn't in New York.
The room was decorated sparsely. A small woven blanket hung from one of the wall, and looked like something made by Native Americans. He was on the only bit of furniture, a cot with a sheet and nearly flat pillow. "What the…"
The door opened and Vann stepped in. "Peter, I told you we needed to talk, and now we will, with no distractions."
"Where am I? Where's Claire?" Peter demanded.
"No questions. Listen…"
Vann's Tale
Year Zero
It started with a man now known as Alphonse. He was like us, Empathic Mimicry is the scientific name, if science had anything to do with it. He was born two thousand years ago, and knew the first of us who had gifts. His name was Jesus. He sparked a revolution, religiously, but no one knew that he was a mutant, like us. I'm not saying he wasn't God's son or not, that isn't for me to say, but he was definitely blessed.
There were others around at the time, mutants that is, and that's how Alphonse survived the ravages if time. He was deeply pious for many years, until he meet another man with gifts like his own: Elijah. Elijah is born of war and disease in the time of the black plague.
The two of them start the Others, a group of gifted people looking for a place to be together. They learn the extent of their powers. They can absorb the gifts of those around them, they can use them, flex them like muscles, or throw them away, purge them from their bodies.
Then, they find me, once again in a time of war, the Revolutionary War. I was there when it all started. Together, we find this island and adopt as our own. Each of us with a specialty. A triad of sorts. Alphonse is religion, Elijah is science, and I am politics, believe it or not. We called ourselves the Seraphim, leaders of our kind. Below us are Archangels, and then the Others. To date, there has only been one Archangel, a man named Michael Gray. He is almost like us, multi-gifted, in his own way.
Peter Petrelli
"The Seraphim have kept a peace treaty, stating that one would never attack the other," Vann said, finishing his little tale. "Elijah, though, has gone mad with power, and needs to be stopped. No one but the Seraphim are powerful enough to do that. Until you, that is."
Vann looked at Peter with inquisitive eyes, searching for an answer to an unasked question. Peter gave him nothing.
"If you agree to help us, I will teach you how to use your gifts. You will be inducted to the Seraphim as Elijah's replacement, the answer to emotion, I suppose. What do you say?" Peter remained silent. "You don't understand, Peter, if we do nothing, the world will very likely end. I have seen it, and so has your friend, Hiro. It will ultimately result in your death, as well as Nathan's and Claire's. Please help us."
He thought of Nathan and Claire, and couldn't see a future without either of them. "I guess I have no choice, do I?"
"Not in the least," Vann said, with a grin.
Nathan Petrelli
New York, New York
The others in his team already dissipated into the hustle and bustle of New York life, returning to their various assignments. Ortega, now partner-less, was to return to HQ, and wait for Nathan to arrive. Together, the two of them were going to dig deeper into the info he picked up in Nome. Mohinder's little technopath out in Seattle was coming in to help.
Nathan took a cab from the airport back to his home, staring emptily out the window. He tried to think about how he would deal with Peter. It had been confirmed that Peter wasn't apart of the assault on the Bucharest Facility, but still, it made him realize how unfair it was to use Sylar over Pete.
He paid the cabby with a generous tip when they pulled up outside Petrelli Mansion. Nathan took the path inside, waiting to see what Heidi was going to do with him. Pete wasn't the only one hurt by this whole fiasco. He'd left Heidi in the dark about the whole thing, saying he was going on a business trip to Bucharest, and then the assault was broadcast. He was sure some news company or other had dug until they found out about Nathan's plane on the tarmac. What the hell was he going to do?
Nathan pushed open the door and stepped inside his house, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but no one was there. Heidi must be off with Peter, talking about how he did them wrong. He sighed. Sometimes, you had to make the bad decisions. It was something they learned from their father.
He stepped into the living room, and for a moment, was completely disoriented. There was Heidi, strapped to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Her eyes were wild and furious. Nathan turned around and looked into the face of the madman known as Legion.
"It's so good to see you again, Director Petrelli," the madman said. "We have been waiting so very long for you. Now, maybe the fun can begin." Legion slammed both of his fists into Nathan's forehead, and the world wavered before his eyes.
The attack kept coming, and the only noise was Legion's huffing and Heidi trying to scream through her gag. Finally, Nathan could take no more and sagged to the floor, unconscious.
Hiro Nakamura
Statue of Liberty, New York
This is where the next item was. Hiro sat down on a bench, looking around. The notebook said a number of things about this particular event, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. A man named Alphonse approaches Claire at the Statue of Liberty. How was he supposed to know who Alphonse was?
Hiro looked around, wondering if he would ever be able to save the future.
Peter Petrelli
New York, New York
Night was falling when Vann returned him to New York, but that didn't stop Peter from immediately going to look for Nathan or Claire. He needed someone at his side for this.
He stood outside Petrelli Mansion, wondering if he should even attempt to go inside. With the way things stood between him and Nathan, it would be a wonder if Nathan didn't throw him out. Pete sighed, then rang the bell. No answer. That was weird. Heidi always answered the door for him. He reached for the knob and twisted. Locked.
Peter felt fear trickle through him. Something was wrong. He stepped back and kicked the door down. Running into the living room, he too was disoriented. Nathan was knocked out on the floor, blood trickling down his face, and Heidi was wild eyed, trying to tell Pete something through a gag in her mouth.
Something hit him from behind. He crashed into the floor and spun over. Legion stepped out of the shadow, grinning. "Now that the whole family's here, the party can begin!"
Peter kicked out again, hitting Legion in the stomach and pushing him into the wall. He held his hands as he stood, letting electricity charge in them. "Legion, you just made your last mistake." Two arcs streaked from his hands, hitting Legion square in the chest and sending him flying out the window. Pete went after him.
Claire Bennet
New York, New York
She stepped into the small coffee shop, hoping she didn't seem too eager. Pete and Will were the last mutants she was with, and that wasn't exactly the best place to be. They weren't exactly supportive, what with Pete being passed out and Will being a little more than oblivious of her presence. Something was going on that he didn't want her to know about, and that was okay. She had other things to worry about, like being found out by Nathan.
"Claire?" a familiar voice asked, astounded. She turned, amazed to find Gavin, the guy from Seattle. "Tell me your not Freakshow."
"'Fraid so," she said with a shrug. "Lemme guess, Shade?" He nodded, and they laughed. She took a seat across from him at his table. He pushed a cup of coffee across to her with a grin.
"A little weird, huh?" Gavin said. "Here you thought you were meeting someone new, and you get stuck with me."
"I wouldn't say stuck with," Claire said, embarrassed. "It's just that I saw Will with my uncle a bit ago, and I didn't even think of you."
"Wait, you saw Will?"
Claire nodded. "Yeah, why?"
"That little rat ran out on us," Gavin said, his smile turning to a scowl. "He said he was going off to fight someone or something."
Claire opened her mouth to speak when something came crashing through the shop window. Gavin reached over and pushed her to the ground as parking meter flew across the room, crashing into the wall. "The hell…?" she asked as she went down.
They followed the rush of people out to the street, illuminated by arcs of electricity and balls of fire being slung between two mutants. Claire pushed her way through and saw Peter standing at one end of the street, Legion at the other. The two mutants flew at each, colliding in front of the store, each hitting the other in the jaw and sending each other flying in opposite directions.
Peter crashed into a car parked outside the shop, probably by the now dislodged parking meter. Claire went to his side, kneeling. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Finishing this," Pete said with a grimace as he pushed himself up. He shot off after the crazed lunatic.
Claire looked around for Gavin, who was now at her side. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"I take it that's your uncle?" he said, grabbing her arm. She nodded. "Then I'm going with you. He might take me to Will." She nodded again, and the two went chasing after the brawl.
Sylar
The Hart Center Holding Facility, New York
He stared longingly at the painting of himself fighting himself. He didn't know what it meant, but some of the details were clear. One version of himself was dressed in white, and bore a weird symbol on his forehead, the opposite of the helix he'd seen so many times before. The other was dressed in black, wielded a scalpel, and bore the helix on his forehead. It seemed almost a religious painting. He only wished he knew how it ended.
In his mind, heard the ticking of the clock wind down, a sign of things to come. Voice argued, one determined to break out and kill again. The other, a more normalized version of himself that was vaguely familiar, pushed for a return to just being a mere clock-maker. He was ripping himself apart, mentally.
Sylar paced his cell again and again, trying to decide what to do. Sooner or later, one side would win, and he would fall prey to the endless destruction or monotony that followed. If only he knew which way was the best.
He stopped and stared at the painting. Maybe it did make sense. Maybe it was a metaphor, describing the internal struggle between Sylar and Gabriel Gray. That was all it was. So, there was one answer in this ever confusing spiral of madness.
The image blurred, distorted, and for one moment, Sylar could see into an apartment building. It was vague in his memory, but he thought it belonged to his long time nemesis, Peter Petrelli. Then, a man stepped through, a man he knew well. His cousin, Michael.
"Gabriel, I need your help," he said.
"My name is Sylar," he told what he was sure was a hallucination.
Michael put a hand on his shoulder. "Not if you don't want it to be."
Sylar looked up, and for a split second, the image was there on the wall again, burning in his mind. It wasn't just a metaphor. He would have to pick one: Sylar or Gabriel. Which is it? Then, he was following Michael through the portal, into the apartment of Peter Petrelli.
Peter Petrelli
Statue of Liberty, New York
Damn it all, he thought, throwing up his barrier as another fireball was flung at him. Legion just wouldn't stay down. Peter's power negation bracelet was long gone, but he seemed to have a grip on his powers. He wasn't displaying anything different, other than his hands starting to flame up once in a while. He knew he was absorbing powers at an alarming rate, and soon he would lose control. Until then, he would fight like the devil.
He tossed out another arc of lightening, striking a metal pole just to the left of his target. Legion went right, and Peter feed him a jet of fire. When he let the flame die, Legion stood there, burnt scars all over his face. They slowly healed. "You can thank you buddy, Gabriel, for that one," Legion taunted, before reaching telekinetically out to lift a car.
Pete reached out and grabbed the car as it swung over his head. He exerted all of his strength to keep it away, but not let it go flying out over the crowd the fight had drawn. Legion started tossing fireballs at him, making Pete have to choose between defending himself from them or the car. Never before had he accessed two powers at once, and didn't know if it could be done at all. He tried anyway, praying silently.
The force-field burst into life in front of him. Legion lost control on the car, and it flew on top of him, crushing him. As the car flew up, Pete sent arcs of electricity out of both hands, alternating.
A voice called to him from the crowd, and Pete turned. A katana was in the air, coming towards him. He knew where it came from. Hiro. Pete saw him in the crowd.
Peter snatched the blade out of the air, and spun, letting the scabbard slide off, then he sliced into Legion as he struggled to his feet. Blood splattered Peter's shoes. As the slash across Legion's chest healed, Peter brought down the blade again and again, taking limbs with the sword. Legion continued to heal. He took a deep breath and spun again, the sword held out. He let it slice through Legion's neck, taking off his head cleanly.
He stood over the fallen madman, feeling a rush of triumph burn through his veins. Pete wiped the sword off on his pants, turning to look for Hiro. The small Japanese man was there at his side, ready to take back the katana, hilt in hand. "Thank you, Hiro," Pete said, putting a hand on his friends shoulder.