A.N: Here's the next chapter! Slightly earlier than usual 'cause I'm away this weekend. Thanks again go to alaricnomad for betaing! :D

Spoilers/Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. Also, this chapter has spoilers for Season 3, however slight, about a certain new character, so you've been warned.

Enjoy!

--

The White House was buzzing with excitement and activity. As soon as Nathan Petrelli finished his live broadcast, the entire Oval Office burst into cheers, causing the President to give out his signature, iconic grin. Press reporters were dying to ask questions, admitted into the office to witness the speech, but as soon as he stepped off the podium, bodyguards surrounded him, making it impossible for the press to get any closer.

"Mr. President, how long do think it will take before these centres are fully functional?"

"Mr. President, will you be enforcing laws so that all special humans take part in this programme?"

"Mr. President, is it true that you possess an ability yourself?"

A hush fell over the crowd and the President's smile faltered, only slightly, "Wild stories have always been concocted about world leaders. I think it's safe to assume that this is another one that is just that; a story. Thank you, ladies and gentleman. Goodbye."

With that, he left the room completely, his face contorting into a scowl as soon as his back was to the reporters, "Who let that journalist in? Why were the questions not screened? God damn it, it'll be all over the papers tomorrow."

An aide nervously came up alongside him, his young face etched with worry, as if he were afraid the President might bite his head off, "Sir? Professor Suresh would like to speak with you."

"Tell him to meet me outside, away from all these scavengers."

Five minutes later, Nathan was seated comfortably at his outside patio, adjusting his jacket as Mohinder Suresh walked towards him, a briefcase in his hand.

"I've just received this from Homeland Security, Sir. I haven't had a chance to look at them yet."

"Good," he smiled, leaning forwards in his chair as the Professor took a seat, "Then I'll look at them."

With a flourish, the Indian man opened the briefcase, handing a folder to the President. He opened it, studying the paper inside closely, before placing it on the table.

"Well done, Professor, with your extensive research, it seems we've located a good sized group of individuals to start with."

Mohinder seemed a little edgy, fidgeting in his seat, "The List was meant to be used for private research only. I don't like the thought of those goons in Homeland Security getting hold of it…"

"You have a daughter, don't you?" Nathan asked, fiddling with a button on his jacket.

"Yes…but I don't see what Molly has –"

"She's a rather special little girl, isn't she, Professor?" The other man continued, a certain gleam in his eye that began to make Mohinder very uneasy.

"Y–yes," he confirmed warily.

"I assume she's on that list of yours then, am I correct?"

The colour faded from Mohinder's cheeks, "You wouldn't."

"Of course I wouldn't!" Nathan replied, laughing, returning once more to his relaxed persona, "I was merely commenting. It would be a shame if Homeland Security go a hold of her name...but if you keep doing your job properly, that won't happen. So you've got nothing to worry about, have you? Now, if you excuse me, Professor, I have other people to meet."

Nathan gestured for Mohinder to leave, smiling, and the other man got up, still shaken. A growing pit of worry was settling in his stomach, and he had a feeling it would keep gnawing away at him for some time.

On the way out, he was shocked to find Daniel Linderman passing through the same door. Linderman was rarely seen at the White House these days, but most people on the inside of the 'special' operation knew he was the one really pulling the strings of this Government.

Daniel gave the Professor a smile as he passed, before continuing to where Nathan sat, studying the file once more.

As he sat down, the sentence he uttered meant things were really starting to happen.

"We have her."

--

The man with the horn-rimmed glasses was glancing over his menu when he felt a presence approach him. Looking up, he was ready to give a bright smile, but what he saw disturbed him.

The waitress standing in front of him was not Sandra, it was Lynette.

"What can I get ya, darlin'?" She asked, clearly not registering the cloud of worry that passed over the man's face.

"The other girl, Sandra, where is she?" He asked cautiously, trying to keep the conversation light. If Sandra were any other girl, he would think she had simply taken a sick day.

But Claire Bennet didn't get sick days. She didn't get sick full stop.

The older woman sighed, her shoulders slumping at the mention of her colleague, "Beats me if I know. One day she was fine, the next she just took off. No note or nothin', just vanished! Let her boyfriend in a right mess, I'm tellin' you, and we've had t'work double-shifts to cover. Anyway, what'd you –?"

The question was left hanging in thin air; Noah Bennet was already out the door. He had a few phone calls to make.

--

"Remind me why you dragged me here again?"

The Oriental man cast a sideways glance at the red-head that had just spoken, before exchanging another look with his scarred companion, "Because you can help us, Sparrow. Your ability is very useful."

"But ol' Emo-Boy here's already got it. You don't need me. Jesus Christ, why place a prison behind a ruddy mountain?"

Peter let his mouth slip into a rare half-smile, "To cause you trouble, Ginger. I guess someone needs to exercise more."

Sparrow glared up at him, pausing for a moment with her hands on her knees to catch her breath, "Don't call me Ginger."

Spurts of fire hissed from the tips of her hair, raining down in tiny sparks, and Peter let out a bark of laughter, "Think you can take me on?"

"Children, children," Hiro muttered, "Play nice."

Peering through the branches, he could just about make out the searchlights stretching their reach towards the edge of the mountain and the glow of torches from around the prison walls, held by guards.

"It's heavily protected," he commented, turning back round to see his two cohorts had calmed down a little, though Sparrow's hair was a brighter shade of red than usual, "We'll need invisibility, Peter."

His friend nodded, motioning them both to cling onto him. Once they had, he concentrated, feeling Claude's power seep through him like a second skin, before launching high into the air, flying them down the descent of the mountain and coming to rest just out of view of the search lights.

Sparrow groaned, holding her head to rid herself of nausea, "Show-off. We could've just walked down, you know."

"It was quicker this way, and I didn't think you'd be able to cope with the descent. I was saving your legs, really."

The woman hit him for that one, and Hiro could see they were getting distracted, a product of neither of them wanting to be there.

"You two," he said in an authoritive tone, something he didn't often use on Peter, "We have to keep our focus. We'll have about ten minutes once the guards are out to get them all out of there."

"Sorry, Sensei," Sparrow immediately intoned, as Peter rolled his eyes when his friend had turned his back.

"Why so serious?" He muttered, staring up at the stone, grey building. Despite his jokes, a quiet bubble of anger was creeping up inside of him. Who was anyone to decide that people should be deemed as criminals and locked away simple because they were different from others? Then again, this was his brother running the country, so Peter wasn't really surprised.

"Welcome to Moab Federal Penitentiary, Utah," Sparrow read off the sign that loomed into appearance next to the entrance, flanked by two watch towers and laced with barbed wire, "Oh, Em Gee, doesn't this place feel so inviting?"

But Peter's joking mood had ended; he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, "Let's go."

Without so much as a second glance to see if his comrades followed him, the vigilante moved slowly, catching the patrol-men off guard as he materialised in front of them, breaking their guns in half with his mind before they had a chance to use them. They immediately scrambled backwards, fear in their eyes, and the man let them run. The alarms had already been set off anyway; his mere presence at the gate had done that, as he wrenched the massive metal doors to the prison open with a flick of his hands.

"He doesn't do things by halves, does he?" Sparrow mentioned to Hiro, holding onto his arm as the Japanese man stopped time, alarms and guards freezing suddenly.

"Try to be a bit less conspicuous," Hiro berated his friend as they entered the building, "Unless you want HS to actually catch us this time."

Peter simply grunted in reply, studying the layout of the building, "You can't stop time here, too many people to get out."

"That's why we only have ten minutes," the other man answered and, with a second's concentration, time was flowing around them again.

With a single gesture from Peter, every cell door swung open, leaving bemused looks on the occupants' faces as they wandered out to get a look at their liberators.

"Follow that man to the exit," he commanded, gesturing towards Hiro, "We're getting you out of here."

It was then he noticed another cell, fortified by vast layers of metal. 'Who are they keeping in there?' he wondered, just as a loud crash resounded outside the building.

"We've got company," Peter yelled, "Sparrow; help Hiro get them out of here, hold the guards off till I get back."

The woman, who was helping herd people in the right direction, nodded, just as another explosion ricocheted outside, "They've bought the SWAT team; it's HS special division!"

'Special in more ways than one', the man thought grimly.

"Hold them off," he repeated, before speeding in the opposite direction.

The vault seemed impenetrable, and Peter knew telekinesis would take too long. With a brief flash inside his mind of a night long passed, he pushed his hand into the metal, watching as it sunk through before stepping inside himself.

Within the cell walls was a woman, clearly terrified from the expression on her face. "Who are you?" She questioned, looking up at him with wide eyes.

For one second, Peter was taken back to another night and a different pair of wide eyes and blonde hair. That image was gone in a flash, and he held out his hand roughly, answering, "The person that's getting you out of here, c'mon."

The blonde took his hand a followed him wordlessly, keeping up with his pace with ease.

Once outside, they were greeted with a small-scale battlefield.

Sparrow was doing her very worst, forming a fiery circle around herself and the prisoners as the one of the special agents tried to break through, a literal whirlwind of dust on the ground. Hiro was coping as best he could with his sword, showing his samurai skill as he kept another agent at bay, his lightning reflex making it difficult for the goateed man to strike him.

Peter could only see two agents, but he could tell they were strong, perhaps the strongest on the team, "Guess they knew it was us and wanted to send a welcoming gift," he muttered, before turning to the woman next to him, "Fought before?"

She shook her head, but managed a small smile. "No time like the present, right?"

Peter almost grinned at her enthusiasm, before running to help out his sword-wielding companion.

A sudden blur flashed before him, and the dark-haired man groaned inwardly, matching the figure's pace as he tried to outrun her. A laugh appeared from within the haze, and Daphne stopped for a moment, "Long time no see, Pete."

"A pleasure as always, Daphne," Peter replied, before swinging a punch. Instinctively, the small blonde dodged out of the way, before landing a swift kick of her own in his stomach.

"Gotta keep up better than that!" she chirruped as Peter glared, blocking the next two punches she sent his way but letting in the third, momentarily winded and falling to the floor.

The running blur that was Daphne laughed, halting for a moment, "Giving up already...aw, shame. I kinda like you."

"Can't say I return the sentiments," Peter smirked, watching as the blonde prisoner he'd rescued surprised Daphne with a high-kick to the back, the force so strong that it sent her skidding across the dirt-track floor.

The man was momentarily stunned by the display of power, as his new ally helped him up.

"It's what I do," she answered nonchalantly, and Peter instantly understood.

"That'll help when it comes to this then," he muttered as the man Hiro was fighting with broke through the Japanese man's defence, coming to his friend's aid and attacking him with flurries of fierce punches that even he couldn't block.

Hiro gave a short bow of thanks as he was helped up off the floor. The battle was ending; with most of the prisoners escaping as Sparrow had resorted to hand-to-hand combat, her fists balls of flames as she successfully sent the last agent flurrying away, the other two fleeing as well.

"We should have killed them," Hiro said dully, brushing dust off his long, black coat.

"No," Peter answered gruffly, "I want Nathan to know what's happened. I want it to make him squirm a little knowing we're still around."

Sparrow ran up to join the three of them, eyeing up the newest person in a pseudo-menacing manner, "We got some fresh meat then?"

"Cut it out, Sparrow," Peter answered, turning once again to the blonde, who's eyes were darting warily from Hiro, sword still in hand, to Sparrow, who was now chuckling to herself, "What's your name?"

"Niki," She answered softly, glancing around her to watch the last of the prisoners scramble up the mountain.

Peter noticed her gaze and sighed, "So much for 'useful', Hiro, they just got themselves the hell out of here."

"One's better than none," his friend answered, motioning for them to begin the trek back up the mountain before they were caught in the open.

Sparrow groaned and opened her mouth to complain, but a sharp look from the sword-master sent her quiet, accepting the climb silently.

As they walked, Peter and Niki exchanged pleasantries, only barely touching, however, on the subject of family.

Of course, the scarred man wasn't about to bring up his familial connections in a hurry, but he watched as Niki's face twisted at the very mention, "What happened to them?"

"My husband died in the explosion," she answered tonelessly, though her eyes were full of emotion, "And my son…my son was taken from me. The Company have him."

Guilt hit Peter like a knife in the heart. The explosion. It had torn this woman's family apart, and the compassionate nature that still lay inside of the battle-worn man was urging to help, to right the wrong's he'd caused, so he did.

"We'll get him back for you."

--

White stone, cold floors, tiny little speckles of black dotted inside the ceiling tiles. Claire didn't know where she was, or why she was here, but she knew that enough time in this...place she'd been put in would be enough to send anybody crazy after time.

In saying that, she knew where she was, the ominously named Camp Zero, but exactly where that was, she had no idea. The last thing she remembered was…

What was the last thing she remembered? The President's speech on the television, Andy's kiss as he took the order-slip from her hand, the friendly grin of the man at the counter...

...And the presence of another man behind him, tall and dark with staring eyes. The Haitian.

Claire understood where she was now, she was in Company hands, in Government hands, and she knew that no-one would ever be able to track her down.

Except, maybe...

Peter, please. If you're out there...please.