The World Entire: Chapter 9: The First Domino

Eschatology is the study of the end of the world. The nature of the end differs among religions. Most major religions predict a catastrophic destruction of mankind and a physical or figurative burning of the Earth. Mysticism believes that reality will simply dissolve away and our souls will be reunited with the Divine. It is often portrayed so frighteningly that most would assume that it is a disaster that should be averted. But some believe that it is merely an inevitable destination, a metaphysical manifestation of times of change. Regardless, both sides of the debate would agree on one thing: one must prepare, physically, mentally, and spiritually. But that begs the question, why haven’t we already started?

: : :

Nathan Petrelli
The Oval Office
Washington, D.C.

Nathan sat at his desk, reading through yet another Synthetic ability registration act. This was the fourth one to land on his desk, each one written in less threatening language than the last. This one at least made it clear that the information would not be public knowledge but rather kept in a secure database for government and law enforcement on a need-to-know basis.

A secure database that could no doubt be easily accessible to the hundreds or thousands of technopaths and digital communicators and everyday hackers. There was no telling the number of people who could get in. If only there were a list of people with abilities, Nathan thought traitorously.

There was a knock on the door and a secret service agent let in a woman.

And there she was: long blond hair, a statuesque figure, wearing her typical skirt suit with pearls, and a womanly smile. “Hey, baby, how are you?” She admired her image in the numerous family photos around the room.

Nathan remained aloof, “I’m well, and you?”

She sauntered over to his desk, sitting on it, “C’mon, the world’s not gonna end today. Why don’t you show a girl a good time?” She hopped into his lap and rubbed his arm sensuously.

“No thank you, Barbara,”

Barbara’s face fell. “Verflixt, how’d you know? I even wore pearls and suppressed my accent. Is it because I forgot those sunglasses she’s in love with? Or maybe it’s because of those couple of pounds she can’t get off.” Barbara rubbed her midriff enticingly.

“My wife is beautiful as she is.”

“Then you gotta admit I’m beautiful, too.”

“Tracy has the added beauty of not hitting on married men.”

“Blödsinn, she bumste that senator that got you this job for over a year.”

Nathan’s hand tightened. “My wife fell in love with me and she has not looked at another man since. So, how’d you trick the telepath into letting you through?”

“I thought Tracy thoughts. I thought, ‘Gee, my husband sure is a cutie, but he doesn’t hold a candle to that hot black bodyguard he’s got. Oh, shit, I think he’s the one who could read minds. Think clean thoughts.’ Then I proceeded to think very dirty thoughts about said agent. Let me right in.”

“And he’s fired.”

“Alas, I may have to console him. The humanitarian that I am. Is the Lincoln Bedroom open?”

“Out.”

“You know where to find me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you spent all that time at Pinehearst just because you wanna see me. You know, you’re two for three with us. I figured you’d want to go for the Triple Crown. Or maybe you already have.” She winked at him.

“It’s been great chatting with you, Barbie.”

“Don’t care me ‘Barbie’,” Barbara hissed.

Nathan noticed that the room began spinning rapidly. All at once, he felt an intense sense of vertigo. He gripped his desk to maintain balance as the colors of the room oversaturated. The light from the windows became blinding. He closed his eyes, the feeling not fleeting, and began to concentrate.

Tracy toppled over and suddenly screamed. “Hurensohn! Nathan, I was gonna stop soon. You know that it whiplashes me when you fight back.”

Groaning, Nathan commented, “Why else would I do it?”

“Well, have fun screwing with the free world. I’ve got work to do.”

As Barbara left, a tall, African man walked in before the door could close.

“Mr. Usutu, what is it?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. President. You have to see this.” He held up a picture of a nuclear explosion.

“I’m getting really tired of pictures like that. Where is it?”

“I saw other buildings. They look like mosques. It was desert.”

“The Middle East.”

“Iran, maybe. Or Syria. That would be my guess, sir.”

“It’s funny. I find myself hoping that they’re actually nuclear bombs, rather than the alternative. Well, Usutu, look like we’re making history.”

: : :

Susan Amman
Cooper University Medical Center
Camden, New Jersey
1973

Alice Lartier lay back on the examination table as Dr. Amman pulled an ultrasound machine over. Amman was a tall woman, beautiful, with strong features and long, blonde hair, perfectly styled. Unlike her, 23-year-old Alice was of medium height, with jet black hair that she could never get to sit right. With two bare fingers, AmmanAlice’s stomach. rubbed the ice-cold gel on

“Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?” Alice asked.

“Typically I would, but with what we’ll be doing today, I need all the dexterity I can manage. No worries, I washed my hands twice. I’m more sanitized them some surgeons.” Pressing the transducer probe to Alice’s stomach, she pointed to the screen. “You see that pocket there? That’s where we’ll be implanting the embryos.”

“Are you sure this is safe? I’ve been doing research. The first time they ever tried this was less than a year ago in Australia. It didn’t take with that woman.”

Amman smiled comfortingly. “This is not Australia. And one year is a lot for medical science. Look, I’ve explained the procedure. We’ll implant four of your fertilized eggs into your uterus. And if we’re lucky, one of them will take. If not, then you’re not out anything. Your procedure was paid for by a generous benefactor in Nevada. You can continue to try with your husband if it fails.”

Alice nodded nervously.

“Okay. Now I’m going to bring in a college of mine. His name is Dr. Zimmerman. He’ll be implanting the embryos vaginally.”

“He? A man…?” Alice asked, crossing her legs.

“Unfortunately, he’s the only doctor in the region will any expertise in this field. I assure you he’s a complete professional. He’s happily married with a four-year-old son.”

Amman invited a man in from the door. He was a kindly-looking man with wire-rim glasses and wavy brown hair. He greeted her in a warm, German accent. “Shall we get down to business, yes?”

Amman sat down beside Alice and gave her a forced smile, “I’m going to be here throughout the procedure. I’ll be holding onto your stomach to keep you still.” She immediately laid her hands on Alice’s stomach, with the probe in one hand, and turned her head to watch the ultrasound monitor.

Dr. Zimmerman brought out a device, which looked like a cross between a hose and turkey baster; it looked too long for its purpose. Alice tilted her head back and tried her best to see the far wall. She began trying to read the diplomas on the wall up-side-down. She felt Zimmerman spread her legs, reach below her gown, insert the device, and after some words exchanged between him and Amman that Alice didn’t catch, he removed it after only a few moments.

“Dere, not so bad, yes?” Zimmerman asked.

Alice agreed sincerely. Amman pointed to the screen. “See that?”

Alice saw but one bubble-looking object on the black-and-white screen. Amman kept her hands on Alice’s belly. She watched as the single dot seemed to connect with some cove-shaped indention in the walls of her uterus.

“I only see one embryo.” Alice commented.

Amman, who didn’t pull her eyes away from the monitor, replied distantly, “The others are on top of one another or out of focuse. We’re just seeing a 3D space projected onto a 2D field.” She concentrated on her hands for a moment. Suddenly, on screen, the single bubble seemed to split into three.

“Are the cells dividing?”

Amman replied, against distantly as she watched the screen, “No, the embryos are already multi-celled. It looks like the blastocysts are clumped together.”

“Did it work?”

Noncommittally, Amman answered, “It looks promising, but we won’t know for a few days where they successfully implanted.” She finally looked back at Alice. “You sit tight. Let the embryos settle. I need to speak with Dr. Zimmerman in private for a few moments.”

Amman led her colleague out.

“What told her was pure Blödsinn… rubbish.”

“It sounded good enough if she does amateur research.”

“Dere are three?” he asked.

“I’ve only done twins before. Three’s as many as I’m willing to risk.”

“No, no, it is fine. And dey will be identical?”

“Every time I’ve done it before, the children have looked identical. Same blood type. Same eye color. Same food allergies. Same hereditary conditions. So unless they come up with a way to compare two people’s DNA, I can’t say for sure.”

“And dey will be special? As you are?”

“I got the eggs from… a human with abilities, yes. You’re the one who’s done all the research on inheritance.”

“I ‘ave just done the reading about it. Dere is a doctor in India with some very promising results.” Zimmerman looked into the room. “Will she not be surprised when she is discovering that she is to have three babies?”

“I would bet so.”

“What will happen to ‘er?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know if she’ll survive the labor. She’ll need a C-section and with her blood condition… well, it’ll be a tragedy.”

“And dee babies?”

“One will go to our generous and clueless benefactor in Las Vegas, Mr. Sanders. One will go to Senator Strauss for his legal protection. And the third, we’ll let you keep.”

“Vhat? Himmelherrgott!”

“Talk it over with Anna. I’m sure she’d love a little girl.”

“You know dat dey are female already?”

Amman nodded. “This ain’t my first rodeo, pardner.”

“I do not know what dis means.”

Amman just laughed. “Congratulations. We’re making history.”

: : :

Peter and Matt
Mohinder’s Lab
Brooklyn, New York
2011

Peter and Matt appeared in Mohinder’s lab just in time to see some sort of snake creature in front of Molly. Matt raced to her side, using his ability to mentally attack the creature. He grabbed his daughter and pulled her away as Peter sped in front of the creature and lit up his hand with blue flame to threaten the creature. The snake being merely leapt up and hung to the wall.

“Peter, no! It’s Mohinder!”

Peter looked up. Mohinder leapt from the wall, somersaulting and landing flat on his feet. Getting a closer look, he was floored.

His eyes had yellowed and his pupils had merged into slits. His hair was gone. His back and the outsides of his arms were covered in large, flared scales. The scales were even more pronounced on his hands, completely covering them.

“Your hair!” was Molly’s only comment. “It was so pretty and curly and black.”

Mohinder laughed at that. It was the first time he’d laughed in a very long time.

“Look, buddy,” Matt commented, “sorry I didn’t recognize you. You could have told me this is why you didn’t want to get back in Molly’s life.”

“I was an arrogant fool. I thought I could…”

Peter touched Mohinder’s shoulder. “Mohinder, I get it. Look, Synthetic abilities, they’re going to cause problems.” He pointed to the floor, at Isaac Mendez’s rendition of New York being blown up. “This would be a house fire compared to what’s going to happen if we don’t find away to remove people’s abilities. Look, you were this close to solving it. Maybe you can make an antidote.”

Matt added, “You could even fix yourself. I know it’s what you’re thinking about.”

Mohinder proclaimed, “It’s not that easy. I got the formula wrong and see what it did to me. Even if I were to create an antidote, how could I test if it worked?”

“We’ll find volunteers. Or recruits,” Peter suggested, “Or you can experiment on me if it comes to that.”

“It’d be better if I had access to the right formula.”

“If I could do that,” Peter stated, “could you produce the antidote?”

“Theoretically, yes, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of distribution. People aren’t going to volunteer to have their abilities removed. And Pinehearst, the maker of the shots, owns the Presidency, meaning we can’t go through the government.”

“Then that’s a problem we’ll have to solve later,” Peter stated, “But now, I’ve got to go get you that formula.” He turned to Matt’s daughter. “Molly, I need a favor from you.” Peter went to the computer.

“I don’t think it works anymore. And there’s no electricity here.”

“Not a problem.” Peter yanked the cord from the floor and held it in one hand and laid the other against the computer’s tower. The computer booted up quickly.

“Can you find me him?” Peter remarked about the picture on screen.

“Get me a map. A world map,” Molly replied.

: : :

Lyle and Monica
Primatech Medical Facility
New Orleans, Louisiana
2011

Lyle Bennet lay in a hospital bed, unconscious. Beside him, an IV fed him a blood transfusion.

“What’s the deal?” Monica Dawson asked her supervisor, Amy Carlson.

Carlson replied, “We didn’t have any natural blood on us. It’s a Synthetic’s.”

“Then he’s gonna scar over.”

“He’s gonna live.”

“How long’s he gonna be like this?” Monica asked.

“It’s going to be a few days before he recovers. You know Synthetic bloods slower.”

“But there’s going to be lasting damage?”

“The screw pierced a lung. A couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have survived the trip to the hospital. Now, all he’ll experience is some chest pain. For a few months, he’ll have minor breath issues. The scar, of course. I wouldn’t recommend too much running in his future.”

Aghast, Monica commented, “He’s an agent. He’s eighteen. You can’t tell him not to run.”

“You’re taking this hard.”

“Read my file. Somewhere between being a big sister and raising my brother after my mom died in Katrina and then raising my cousin when he mom died and… I don’t like it when people get hurt on my watch.”

“And that’s what makes you the best agent in our division. C’mon, Dawson, I’ve got a job for you. I need you to train the new guy.”

Nodding, Monica followed her boss out of the room.

Meanwhile, a figure with a gun eased the window open into Lyle’s room.

: : :

Cris and Doug
Downtown Los Angeles, California

The car that pulled up didn’t look like a cop car to Cris and Doug. The four people who got out certainly weren’t dressed like street cops. They wore suits. Two of them, the brown-haired woman and the blond guy, hid behind their doors and pulled out pistols. The other two, a tallish dark-haired man and a petite blond woman, boldly approached the two. They obviously had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Chapter 10: The First Step

Director's Commentary: Adrian Pasdar told me that he was jealous of all the fun his castmates seemed to be having on my web series, and wanted to know why Nathan wasn't more involved, and I told him I'd gladly bring implement Nathan's storyline, which otherwise would have happened off-screen. Also, Ali, clearly board with playing one part again, came back as Barbara Zimmerman.

Written and Directed by Christopher VanDrey

Sendhil Ramamurthy ... Mohinder Suresh

Hayden Panettiere ... Claire Bennet

Greg Grunberg ... Matt Parkman

Adrian Pasdar ... Nathan Petrelli

Milo Ventimiglia ... Peter Petrelli

Ali Larter ... Barbara Zimmerman

Adair Tishler ... Molly Walker

Randall Bentley ... Lyle Bennet

Dana Davis ... Monica Dawson

Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine ... Usutu

Marissa Jaret Winokur ... Amy Carlson

Ronald Guttman ... Dr. Zimmerman

Jonathan Chase ... Cris

Jesse Boyd ... Doug

J. August Richards ... Telepathic Secret Service Agent

Julie Benz ... Susan Amman

Monica May ... Alice Lartier

The World Entire: Chapter 8: The Right Choice

The Wiccan Rede, the guiding philosophy of morality of Wicca, is “Do as ye will, as long as ye harm none.” Life is a path, a long succession of diverging roads where one must make a decision. Fight or flight. Love or loss. Step up or step off. The road less traveled by. Turn the other cheek. Join or die. Coffee or tea. Every moment, every second, every heartbeat, is an opportunity to take a stand against the wrongs of the world. Or to cower and retreat. Life is a test by fire. Can we know what choices we will make when the time comes? Surely not. But can we fight in the present, ruling the time we have now to be too precious? That, my friend, is the question we should be asking ourselves.

: : :

Monica and Lyle
New Orleans, LA

Company agents Monica Dawson and Lyle Bennet drove down Jackson Avenue with a Synthetic thrower in their trunk.

“Why do you get all the notoriety?” Lyle asked from the passenger seat.

“I’m a hooded vigilante with cunning acrobatics. A guy in a gray suit with a taser ranks a bit lower on the notability scale. It’s your job to blend in. But if it’s important to you, I could start advertising about my sidekick.”

“Sidekick?!”

“What can I say? You lack style.”

“Style is overrated. I’ve got competence. Doesn’t anyone remember who trained me?”

“You’re new, Bennet. Why do you think your nickname is Peach Fuzz?”

“Peach Fuzz?”

Monica’s face reddened. “Did not realize that was a secret.”

Lyle sat dejectedly in his seat.

“Lyle, what we do, we’ve gotta do under the radar. All those civilians out there? They think these shots are just the newest trend. And that the whole ‘the next step in evolution’ slogan is just clever advertising. We’ve got to protect people from themselves. That includes our friends and our families and, heck, our leaders. You know the President thinks that he’s paying for me to go to college?”

“The President is my sister’s biological father. It kind of detracts from his mystique.”

“The guy’s my grandmother’s nephew’s wife’s sister’s husband. We practically have brunch every Sunday.”

After a brief silence, Lyle asked, “So, is Carlson always like that?”

“Yeah, one of the results of being the boss, I guess.”

“You would think she’d get us a flashier car than a three-year-old Toyota Camry.”

Monica had to chuckle at that. “Not that I don’t think that St. Joan should have some kind of flashy convertible, but you got to admit, it’s reliable.”

A tire popped. Monica cursed. She noted suspiciously, “It was a back tire.”

Lyle cocked his gun. Monica slipped on her hood.

But before either could react, Lyle lurched forward. Blood began to stain the front of his white dress shirt. Behind him, there was a bullet hole through his seat and into the back seat.

Monica cursed again and opened the door as a metallic-sounding burst came from the trunk. The trunk hood opened and Daniau scrambled out, his hands surprisingly free of the handcuffs. He took one look back the hooded St. Joan and raced off. Monica merely tossed her dagger using the aiming she’d learned from him. The knife inbedded itself into the back of his head and Monica glared from behind as Daniau’s body fell forward.

She raced over to the other side of the car and found Lyle gasping for breath. She peeled off her sweatshirt and pressed it against Lyle’s wound. She slipped her iPhone out of her pocket and called home base.

“Carlson? This is Dawson. The target attempted an escape. Bennet sustained a life-threatening injury. We need backup. The target’s been dealt with.”

She hung up and began using the device to open her collection of medical videos. She then got to work trying to keep her partner alive.

Within minutes, a Company medical team and Regional Director Amy Carlson showed up. Handing Monica a replacement sweatshirt, she stared the agent down with a stern expression. Carlson would not at first appear to be an imposing figure. She was barely five-three; perhaps a hundred-forty pounds, with a bob cut of plain brown hair and a face that might be described as cute if she were smiling, which she was not.

“Dawson, how did this happen?”

“The target was unconscious and handcuffed when we put him in the trunk. We emptied his pockets and made sure he didn’t have any ammo to throw. We weren’t thorough enough and it appears he founds some screws in the trunk to loosen. Don’t ask me how he achieved enough maneuverability to shoot a screw into his handcuffs, but he did, at great risk of personal injury, might I add. He proceeded to shoot out a tire and then into the cabin area. He made quick work of the trunk lock and attempted an escape. He got about fifteen feet.”

Carlson held up Monica’s kris. “I noticed. Pulled this from the back of his head. It pierced his brain stem.”

“He deserved as much.”

“You flubbed up, but your instincts were good and you handled the situation well. We’ll take Bennet to the Company hospital; see if we have any good regenerator blood on us.” Off Monica’s worried look, she commented, “He’ll be fine. You’re not getting us to assign you a new partner that easily.” She gave a little half-grin to Monica.

: : :

Ando Masahashi
Tokyo, Japan

Ando put in a lot of effort into blending in. He wore non-descript clothing: a brown jacket over a white shirt with khaki pants. On his cell phone, he replied to a caller, “So, they lost the girl? That’s going to make finding him more difficult. Alright, I’m about to enter Yamagato Industries. He can’t hide for long.”

He smiled to the entrance guard, saying his was an old employee and needed to pick up some forgotten items. He took the elevator to the executive floor.

Once there, he fired several red blasts into the ceiling. In the ensuing chaos, as secretaries ran from their desks and executives hid under their desks, Ando easily made it to the thick wooden doors of the CEO’s office. A rather large blast sent them to the floor. He walked in, confident in his entrance.

The CEO was not impressed.

Kimiko Nakamura, clad in an attractive blue pant suit stood at her desk, leaning backwards against it.

In a chipper tone of voice, she asked in her native tongue, “Mr. Masahashi, what can I do for you? We’ve missed you since your left Yamagato to pursue other opportunities.”

Ando scowled, “Drop the act, Kimiko. I need to find Hiro.”

Still showing no indication that anything out of the ordinary was going on, she replied, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know the first place to find my brother. He and I live in separate worlds now.”

“He has stolen your father’s half of the formula. I fear he has malicious intent for it.”

“That half of the formula was given to him by my father. That hardly constitutes stealing.”

“The formula belongs to the public. It is their right to use it to improve themselves.”

“For a price, paid to the Pinehearst Company.” She gestured to the pin on his label.

“We have studied the formula for years. We provide genetic tests to assess how susceptible the recipient of the injection would be. We are responsible with it.”

Nodding, she stated, “You make a good case, Ando. You’ve grown a lot these past few years.”

“How could I not? If you had any idea what was on the horizon.”

“The Broken Earth Prophecies? Oh, I’m quite aware of them. They’re all my brother talks about.”

“So you admit you have contact with him?”

Kimiko approached Ando, standing very close to him. “And so what if I do?”

Ando inhaled deeply, feeling his head fog. “What’s going on?”

“Pheromone production.”

“You have an ability?”

“I’m the CEO of a powerful corporation. Pinehearst ships around the world.”

“Hypocrite! You criticize us for making money off of what amounts to be a patentable pharmaceutical drug, yet you use your status and wealth to obtain the shot while protecting your brother for subverting that very notion?”

She began to circle him, cat-like. “You have to admit, the power is useful. It’s quite a challenge to be a female CEO in Japan, and this has placated my potential usurpers quite capably.”

Ando stood resolutely. “You’re beautiful enough to do it without the Synthetic help.”

“Thank you. I’m impressed by your willpower. A few years ago, I could have had you in bed with a mere flip of the hair. Now, I can inundate your system with my chemical wiles and you stand firm.”

“I have a mission.”

She laughed, and sat back on her desk, raising a leg invitingly, “You’re beginning to sound like him. I’m not telling you where to find him. I love my brother.”

“I do not wish to hurt Hiro. He was my closest friend. He’s a loose cannon and I’m trying to save the world—and him—from this foolhardy pursuit.”

Kimiko ignored him, commenting curiously, “You must have an ability. Pinehearst only employs the out-of-the-ordinary. Show me.”

Ando resisted.

“Show me,” she whispered.

Ando inhaled deeply, his brain completely fogged over. He held up a tense fist and his hand began to glow with red, cackling energy.

“Beautiful… and dangerous,” she admired. “Is it always red?”

“Yes.”

She pouted playfully. “Aw, too bad, I was going to take it as a compliment.” She turned serious and invaded his personal space again. She whispered in his ear, “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

“All I want is the formula.”

Kimiko, pleased, pressed her lips against Ando’s. Ando sent a blast into the ceiling, knocking out the lights, and illuminating them only by the outside streetlights in the dark night.

: : :

Peter and Matt
Fort Lee, New Jersey

Peter woke up again, finding himself not only in the land of the living but the land of the waking.

Peter noted the pin on Matt’s suit jacket. “You’re one of them.” He held out his hand covered in blue electricity.

Matt removed the pin and threw it on the ground, “Had to join them to get to you. Trust me; they almost got my wife killed. I have no loyalty to them. Check me if you want; I’ll suppress my telepathy.”

“No need. Why bring me back to life if you don’t want me alive?”

“Walk with me.” Matt commented, trying to put ground between him and Pinehearst, “As long as we’re being honest, I ought to let you know my original plan was to lock you in a nightmare for your part in hurting Daphne.”

“Look, I’m sorry about Daphne, but it wasn’t me who went to Sylar’s house. It’s was my past self from 2007…”

Matt held up his hand to stop Peter, “No, I get it. But I need your help on something…”

“Look, I’d love to help, but the world is in trouble…”

Again, Matt held up his hand, “It’s far time you learned that I’m the one who brought that image of the shattered Earth to the U.S. I know it’s coming and I do want to stop it. But I have to find Molly first. Once I get her back, you can count on my support. She might be of help, too.”

“How can a little girl help me?”

“One, she’s fourteen, not a little girl. And two, her ability is to find anyone anywhere.”

“Molly Walker is your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a picture?”

Matt pulled out his wallet. “Yeah, right here, why?”

“I was around her at Kirby Square when I fought Sylar. It means I might have her ability. If you can get me a picture, I can remember how she made me feel, and I can access her power.”

Matt reached into his wallet. “And with the picture, you can also find out where she is.”

Peter stared at the image. His mind flashed back to 2007. It was a fleeting glance, but he remembered her, huddled with Niki and her husband and their son. All of a sudden, as if the memory had been planted in his head, he could see the location. “Isaac Mendez’s loft,” he said.

“The murdered painter?”

“He had a loft in Lower Manhattan. I’m getting these images of lab equipment.”

Matt nodded. “With the painting of a nuclear explosion on the floor? Mohinder Suresh has a lab there.”

“Why would she want to track down Suresh?”

“Because once upon a time, he was her second father.”

Peter took a hold of Matt’s arm and they disappeared into thin air.

: : :

Angela and Gabriel
Primatech Research Facility
Barstow, California

Angela led her middle son down a long hallway. She remained silent; Gabriel was unnerved.

“Ma, you’re not talking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear; it’s wonderful for you to be back with us at the Company. I hope you realize you’ll be expected to use your powers.”

“Understood,” Gabriel commented halfheartedly.

“I would like you to meet your partner.” She opened the door to a two-person office. At one desk, there was a tall, lean man with a conservative cut of dirty blond hair, looking at a folder. He looked up at the sound of the door. He stood up immediately and extended his hand. “You must be Gabe.”

“I prefer Gabriel, actually.” Gabriel shook the friendly agent’s hand.

He smiled amicably. “Fair enough.”

Angela bowed her head, “Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. I have to brief some other agents.”

Ryan at once mentioned, “So, I wasn’t permitted to look at your file. You used to work here?”

“A couple of years back. I had a kid and wanted to stay home with him.”

He nodded with understanding, “By the way, you called Mrs. Petrelli ‘Ma’ back there. Is she your mother?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Sorry for prodding, but your last name’s Gray?” He indicated the nameplate on Gabriel’s new desk.

“Angela is my biological mother. I was adopted out as a baby.”

“So, I’ve gotta ask. There’s this blond woman who’s name is Gray.”

“My wife.”

“Oh,” he seemed genuinely surprised.

“I’m guessing you’re wondering about her… off-kilter reputation?”

Attempting to seem as non-threatening as possible, Ryan defended, “I’m not judging.”

“No, it’s a valid point. I was Elle’s redemption and she was mine.”

“If you don’t mind me asking: I’m a ‘one of them,’ so I’m assuming you have some sort of ability?”

“They call it ‘intuitive aptitude.’ It’s a fancy way of saying I understand how things work.”

“Interesting…” he asked in a baiting tone.

“I can tell that the battery in your wristwatch is at 17% capacity, and you’re losing 12 seconds a year. I can tell by your demeanor that you were raised in the Midwest, but have spent a number of years in Los Angeles. I grew up in Queens and have never owned a car but could fix yours faster than any mechanic. In fact, I could take it apart and rebuild it piece by piece.” Ryan looked rather impressed. Gabriel continued, “My ability also allows me to develop the abilities of other evolved humans. You’ll notice I’ll use telekinesis a lot.”

“You’re like a mimic?”

“Kind of. To learn a new ability, I have to look at the brain. It’s rather fatal.”

Ryan looked like he was desperately hoping his new partner was pulling his leg.

“I used to have a bad habit of slicing open people’s heads,” Gabriel hinted.

“Sylar…”

“For what it’s worth, I’m about 93% reformed.”

“Well, it’s a lot to process, but I guess I can deal.”

This genuinely surprised Gabriel. “Seriously?”

“Look, I’m a big believer in second chances. Once upon a time, I was going through a pretty dark time in my life, and a special pulled me out of it.”

There was a knock at the door. Elle stood behind Bess Detskij. Detskij was a tall woman, towering over Elle, with long, straight, brown hair, in top physical shape, and with a rather commanding demeanor.

In a voice that couldn’t hide her Russian roots, Detskij stated, “Agent Gray, Agent Covington, looks like we’ll be teaming up today. We’ve got a report of two evolved humans reeking havoc in downtown LA.”

Gabriel was genuinely surprised, “They’re letting us work together?” He indicated his wife, who waved cheekily.

“I’m surprised they’re letting you work at all, Sylar.”

“I prefer to go by…”

“I know what you prefer. Doesn’t bring your victims back to life.”

Bess turned face and marched out. Elle gave Gabriel and Ryan a come-on head tilt.

“Take-charge woman. That’s an attractive trait.”

“She’s my wife,” Gabriel challenged.

“And you are a man in love. I meant the Russian.”

Chapter 9

Director's Commentary: According to comments, people are liking the Monica/Lyle match-up. I thought these two underused characters would find a purpose together. And even though everyone knew it was coming, Hiro's death scene was still moving. I'm really sad to lose Masi. I'm hoping a Peter/Matt alliance will work out, because it's going to be central to the rest of the series. And Kristen and Zach continue to kill. Word on the set is that it's a tad awkward for them in their characters' budding romance scenes, but they seem a lot more comfortable here as flirty but stable married folk. Our biggest guest star is Olga Sosnovska. So, funny story. I needed a Russian character for my previously established but as of yet unseen character Bess Detskij. I told Alexis, my casting director, if it would be possible to get this one actress I'd seen on an episode of Criminal Minds. I was told, with a smile, that it would be very easy, as she played Angela's assistant on the show earlier this year on the parent show. I come to find out that I'd asked for Sendhil Ramamurthy's wife. If that's not fate, I don't know what is.

Written and Directed by Christopher VanDrey

Milo Ventimiglia ... Peter Petrelli

Zachary Quinto ... Gabriel Gray

Kristen Bell ... Elle Gray

Greg Grunberg ... Matt Parkman

Christine Rose ... Angela Petrelli

Masi Oka ... Hiro Nakamura

James Kyson Lee ... Ando Masahashi

Dana Davis ... Monica Dawson

Randall Bentley ... Lyle Bennet

Olga Sosnovska ... Bess Detskij

Chris Carmack ... Ryan Covington

Sean Maher ... Xavier Daniau

Marissa Jaret Winokur ... Amy Carlson

Seami Nakamura ... Kimiko Nakamura

The World Entire: Chapter 7: Turning the Tide

In Greek mythology, the gods lorded over the mortals. The Greeks believed their gods to be petty and temperamental, showing favoritism. In other words, like themselves, only wielding great power. A victory in war was attributed to favor with the god Ares or goddess Athena. A massive, ship-wrecking storm was the work of an unsatisfied Poseidon. Though, if history has told us anything, there is a balance between fate and free will. Our actions have consequences, even if we can’t see them. Some things cannot be avoided, but as humans we are given the reasoning to react to them in a productive—or detrimental—manner. But what can we do when we see the seemingly inevitable storms of the future on the horizon? Do we dare challenge the will of the gods and make our own destiny? And, if we succeed, what would we find when we get there?

: : :

Xavier Daniau
First Street Docks
New Orleans, Louisiana

This was not a good day for Xavier Daniau. He was just trying to make a little cash by picking off a jewelry store with a bad security system. It was a rather easy task with his new abilities. Except now he was on the run from the city’s local vigilante.

His crew was able to steal a few dozen pricy Synthetic Shots from a delivery truck. At first it seemed like a good idea: abilities would no doubt aid in their noble pursuits and they’d have a few dozen shots left over to sell. On the contrary, it would turn out to be nothing more than a precursor to a big superpower-fueled mêlée. In the interest of their individual safety, they decided to split up and work solo for a while.

Xavi had gained the ability to throw things with perfect aim. It came with the added bonus of a bit of super strength, allowing him to launch some heavier objects. Nothing too big, he discovered when he tried to throw a car and ended up throwing out his back instead. And his projectiles typically traveled bullet-fast. Overall, it was useful for a thief.

But not today, he realized. The hooded vigilante was chasing him relentless and his powers were ineffective against her. St. Joan was just too talented. Little was know about her. She was assumed to be female, because of the name. Xavi couldn’t deny she appeared female, judging by her hip-hugging jeans. Her face, however, was obscured by the hooded sweatshirt she wore. On her feet were Converse sneakers, which ought to have decreased her menacing ambiance, but the kris dagger in her hand more than compensated for that. Xavi was definitely trying to avoid coming into contact with the curved blade.

He did his best to slow down his pursuer by launching obstacles her way, but it was to no avail. She flipped over, somersaulted around, kicked aside, or otherwise rendered his ability worthless. Xavi had read the comic book about her. She was a “muscle mimic”, whatever that meant. What it mean, as he was finding out, was that she had the agility of champion gymnast and knew a lot of different types of martial arts.

Finding open air to her advantage, Xavi decided to take the fight indoors. There was a coffee bean warehouse by the docks that was out of commission for the hurricane season. A stray anchor was the perfect item for knocking down the door for easy entry. Once inside, Xavi collected items for the fight: abandoned tools and other scraps. He started his bombardment immediately once cornered. St. Joan proved herself to be too difficult of a target, though he was able to keep her at a distance.

He threw his last reserve item: a crowbar, with deadly accuracy, but St. Joan’s quickness proved to be too much. She easily dodged the weapon. “My turn,” she commented, pulling out her kris. Xavi’s blood froze as he watched St. Joan throw the dagger with his telltale arm twist. She couldn’t match the speed at which he threw things, but she definitely copied his accuracy.

The blade appeared to miss, giving Xavi momentary hope, at least until he tried to escape and promptly fell to the ground, finding his jean leg “nailed” to wall. He struggled to get the curved blade out of the wall and blindly threw it. It missed by miles and he found himself strangle-held by the vigilante.

He grinned. “Bad move,” he called and lunged his body forward, throwing St. Joan across the room. She recovered midair and contorted her body so that she landed feet-first on the wall, using her legs to cushion the impact.

Blessing his good fortune, he pulled out a gun. St. Joan emerged from some boxes with her knife.

Xavi laughed. “Sweetie, don’t you know never to bring a knife to a gun fight? Let’s see if you can dodge this.” He set his sights on St. Joan.

And promptly lost his gun when his arm was pulled aside and his wrist painfully twisted. He felt a pair of sharp points in his back, and then a powerful jolt of electricity rendered him unconscious.

St. Joan landed on the group, pulling off her hood to reveal her identity of Monica Dawson. “I could have taken him,” she commented, “Thanks, Bennet.”

In a gray suit and tie, with a gun strapped to his belt and a taser in his hand, Lyle Bennet emerged from the shadows. “No problem, Dawson. So, where’re we taking this guy?”

“Carlson wanted him captured.”

“Well, we’ll throw him in the trunk. Make sure there’s nothing that he could use as a bullet. Empty his pockets.”

Monica smiled proudly and lightly punched Lyle in the shoulder. “Will do. He’d be proud, you know.”

“I know,” he said passively, handcuffing Daniau.

: : :

Peter Petrelli
Kirby Square

Peter Petrelli woke up and found himself in courtyard of Kirby Square. He looked around for Claire, who he remembered had shot him. He found no bullet holes in his chest, so he must have regenerated.

But something wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be in Kirby Square. And Kirby Square didn’t look like this anymore. Linderman’s office building had been bought out by Fletcher Pharmaceuticals. And it should have been busy with people at this time of night. Instead, it was deserted.

Except for Matt Parkman.

“Matt?”

Hurriedly, Matt stated, “Peter, we don’t have much time.”

“Why are we at Kirby Square? Where is everyone?”

“We’re not at Kirby Square. We’re outside Pinehearst, in your head. You were shot by Claire a few days ago, and I brought you back. Unfortunately, she happened to walk in on me.”

“I take it she didn’t let you bring me back to life?”

“Hardly.”

Peter began to explain, “I brought my double from 2007…”

“He escaped. He found Sylar at the Bennets’ old house in Costa Verde and took his ability. Pinehearst agents showed up and killed his son and Sylar went nuclear. He killed one agent and nearly killed my wife.”

“Dammit. He’s not ready for Sylar’s power. I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Listen, Peter, I need your help.”

: : :

Residential Quarters
Primatech Research Facility
Barstow, California

Gabriel screamed in pain as Elle dug her fingers into his bare chest, filling him with massive doses of electricity. Her fingers glowed brightly from the transfer and her teeth were clenched in fury. She finally let up, looking very relieved afterwards.

Gabriel breathed heavily as his abilities healed him. “So, I take it you’re really angry at my mother?”

Elle, wearing a tight “Naughty”-embossed tee and a cotton sleep shorts, rolled her neck. “I kind of liked that Noah was the only accident in my life. My dad was in control of my whole life. In a way, it was like I finally bucked his plans. I was wrong. She planned even him.”

“Anything else bothering you?”

“I was at the grocery store today and some lady cut in line in front of me.” After an inviting gesture from her husband, Elle dug her hands into Gabriel’s chest and let loose her lightning. It was a quick burst, though. She sighed with contentment.

“Feeling better?” he asked kindly.

“Yep, got all my crazy out for the day.”

Gabriel frowned playfully, pursing his lips comically. “Too bad, I was hoping there was still a little bit left that I’d have to knock out of you.” His frown turned to a lecherous grin.

Coyly, she replied, “Well, you’ll find I’m a bottomless pit of crazy. I’m sure we could dig up a little for you to excise.” As Gabriel began to kiss her neck, she began to narrate, “Oh, here’s something: since I found out that Noah was immune to electricity, I might have been doing some experiments.”

“Hmm? Me, too,” he whispered in her ear, which he followed up by a lick and playful bite. “Since all his toys were destroyed, I may have gotten him some unusual replacements. Pointy things. Sharp things. Dangerous things.” This last part he said humming his words against her throat.

With a tight grin on his thighs, she replied, “That’s nefarious. I doubt the American Board of Child Psychology would approve. I have friends there. Well, stuffy old doctors that made me talk to them and declared me loony. Still, they wouldn’t approve.”

Capturing her lips, he agreed, “They mostly certainly would not.” He slid his hand under her shirt and held her waste, pressing his forehead against hers.

She asked, “Why do you love my crazy, deranged ass?”

He slipped one hand away from her waste to give her buttock a playful spank. “Well, you have to admit, it’s a rather attractive ass.”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Mister.”

Forty-six minutes and fifty-five seconds later…

Gabriel, lying contently on his back, watched as his wife propped herself up on one elbow and began using her other hand to try to shape his eyebrows using her charged finger, only to have the hair grow back. She wasn’t the least bit peeved about it.

“You know,” Gabriel spoke in a soft voice, “if the world were to crack in half, I think our son would be the only one to survive. Ever-breathers would freeze. Burners would suffocate. Even regenerators would eventually shatter their brains on a stray asteroid.”

“You really suck at pillow talk,” Elle commented, sticking her finger in his ear.

Groaning as the hearing returned on that side of his head, he replied, “How would you know? The only pillow you’ve talked on is mine.”

“True,” she admitted, but noted, “but I watch a lot of TV. Post-coital lovers say nice things.”

“The last time I tried to talk sweet to you, you tried to burn off certain down-South regions of my body.”

“Well, in my defense, you’re a bad sweet talker.”

“Guilty as charged. Going back to the whole end of the world.” Elle wobbled her head acerbically. “I think you know what that means.”

“You’re hell-bent on saving the world. So, I’m guessing you want to come and work with your intelligent, capable, and dead-sexy wife?”

“I was actually hoping to work with you.” She raised a threatening hand. “I tried to retreat once and look where it got us.”

“You’re gonna get teased. I kind of use work to blow off steam about you. Certain untrue and highly embarrassing things might have been said. Sorry,” she finished apathetically.

: : :

Molly Walker
Mohinder Suresh’s Lab
Lower Manhattan, New York

Molly pushed open the door to the studio. She walked around, finding the once immaculate lab now filthy with years of piled up dust and lab equipment littered across the floor.

“Mohinder?” she called into the darkness.

“Molly?” she heard a voice in the other room.

“Yes! Mohinder, where are you? It’s me!”

The familiar voice was insistent, “Molly, please leave.”

“No! I came all this way to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have come. Matt was taking good care of you.”

“He sold out to the bastards that killed my mom.”

“Language,” he scolded paternally.

“Matt, I’m not ten years old any more.”

His voice still coming from the other room, Mohinder questioned, “I thought… Sylar killed your mother.”

“Not my birth mom. Daphne, Matt’s wife.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Molly approached the other room. “Are you okay?”

The figure, who was peeking out of the curtain, pulled back. “No, I’m not. I tried to recreate the formula that gives synthetic abilities and I made a horrible mistake.”

“Mohinder, there’s no reason to hide.” She opened the curtain and looked in. The figure raced to the side of the room.

“Yes, there is.” He came out of the shadows, still hidden beneath a hooded sweatshirt. “The formula; it gave me abilities, but it disfigured me. Turned me into a monster.”

“You don’t sound like a monster.”

“It didn’t affect my voice.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, if you were a bad guy, wouldn’t you be committing crimes or something?”

“Oh, I have. I’ve kidnapped a great many evolved humans in an attempt to reverse the change. I gave up years ago.”

Molly noted the strange, human-sized, web-like sacs on the wall. They were empty. “Mohinder, I don’t care what you look like. I need your help.”

“There’s nothing I can do for you, Molly.”

“Yes, there is.”

Chapter 8

Director's Commentary: So much fun stuff happens in this episode. I introduce the Monica/Lyle pair-up that both those actors and I were very excited about. I begin the Matt/Peter arc that will carry the series until the end of my 12-episode commitment. And Zach and Kristen got to have their awkward naughty scene that they'd been dreading/anticipating.

Written and Directed by Christopher VanDrey

Milo Ventimiglia ... Peter Petrelli

Kristen Bell ... Elle Gray

Zachary Quinto ... Gabriel Gray

Greg Grunberg ... Matt Parkman

Sendhil Ramamurthy ... Mohinder Suresh

Dana Davis ... Monica Dawson/St. Joan

Randall Bentley ... Lyle Bennet

Sean Maher ... Xavier Daniau