In some ways atheism requires just as much faith as theism. To believe so strongly in the complete lack of a higher being takes courage. Sometimes it feels as if we live in an impassionate world. Good people die. Bad people live. No deity with any sense of charity would let such atrocities plague this world. And no devil is malicious enough to allow even a speck of joy into the world just so it can be taken away. What possesses us to believe in a being we readily admit we can’t comprehend? What possesses us to deny that Irresistible Force that tries to move the immobile object we call our world?
: : :
Claire Bennet
2011
Janice McHenry opened the door to a petite brunette woman in a pant suit. She looked barely old enough to be out of high school, but had the demeanor of a woman much older.
“Mrs. McHenry, my name is Claire Butler,” Claire stated, her eyes chilly, “I’m from the LAPD. We’re looking for you ex-husband, Matt Parkman, and we were wondering if he’s tried to contact you.”
A brown-hair boy of some four years grabbed his mother’s leg and stated, “Liar.”
With suspicion thinly disguised, Janice asked, “Miss Butler, is it? Is there any chance you’re not being completely honest with me? My son is a little lie detector.”
Claire bowed her head. “My apologies for the subterfuge, Mrs. McHenry; I work for the Pinehearst Company, Martial Division. Your ex-husband has stolen some very important company property,” she stated, “We’re just trying to get it back.”
“The last time I heard from Matt was when he called to let me know he was marrying that 19-year-old floozy.”
Standing straighter, Claire corrected, “Daphne Millbrook was 28 when she and Matt got married. She was a valued, loyal, and capable agent of the Pinehearst Company who worked directly for me.”
“‘Was’?” Janice clutched the neck of her blouse. “Did something happen to her?”
“She was critically injured trying to apprehend a dangerous subject during the Costa Verde Disaster. She’s in a coma, I’m afraid.”
With true sympathy, Janice added, “I’m so sorry. For you and for Matt.” After a brief moment of internal struggle, she finished, “Listen, I haven’t heard from Matt in quite a while. I do get Christmas cards and he gives Tommy a birthday card. He lives in
“Suresh?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“We’re of course aware of that residence.” Claire stopped dead. “Suresh…”
A phone interrupted her thoughts. After a few moments, her face filled with anger. “Get me there now. Have Gordon hold him as long as he can.”
A tall, dark-haired man in a charcoal suit suddenly appeared in a similarly-colored blur. He dispassionately put his arm around Claire, who politely thanked Janice before disappearing with him. Janice was left on her doorstep, eyes wide and mouth agape.
: : :
Nathan Petrelli
The Pentagon
Colonel Donald Kendrick escorted Nathan to a practice field a few hundred yards away from the main building. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Nathan. “Mr. President, we’ve been recruiting Special men and women for the past couple of years. Until now, we’ve spread them out throughout our ranks, not wanting it to seem like they’re any different, just uniquely skilled. This is the first squadron of solely enhanced soldiers.”
“I authorized full deployment.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re authorization created a new branch of the U.S. Military. The Powered Legion has had to siphon off volunteers from the other branches. Some soldiers don’t take kindly to what they feel is deserting their brothers.”
“I understand,” Nathan admitted, “I was in the Navy for eight years. I understand the loyalty.”
Nathan was led to a group of five individuals, who stood at attention in a line. They wore uniforms from a variety of military branches.
Kendrick cleared his throat and a sixth individual faded into vision. “Staff Sergeant Anthony O’Malley,
O’Malley called briskly, “Attention. Roll call.”
The first soldier took a step out. He was a well-built, serious-looking man with close-cropped blond hair. “Airman First Class Brock Johnston, sir.” He briskly pulled out his arm, his hand still clenched in a tight fist, and bright orange flames emerged from his hand, disappearing just as quickly. He returned to his line.
The next man, a young, dark-skinned man of below-average high stepped out. “Seaman Apprentice Dalton Henry, sir. He turned Sargeant O’Malley, requesting, “Permission to demonstrate my ability, sir.” O’Malley gave him the go-ahead. In a series of three short blurs, Henry appeared a hundred feet behind his comrades, far to the right of them, and back into his position, each time appearing in his taut at-attention stance.
The next man, of Mediterranean descent wore a distinctive Marine uniform. “Private First Class George Palladino, sir.” He floated about six inches off the ground.
Nodding, Nathan commented, “I wonder if we’re related.”
Palladino commented awkwardly, “My abilities are Synthetic, sir.”
Nathan turned to Johnson, the airman, noting, “That would have been an appropriate ability for you.”
Johnson turned his head. “Sir, it would have been a waste all the years I spent learning to fly a jet.” Nathan heartily agreed.
The next soldier was a Cuban woman. “Specialist Belle Ramos, sir. Sergeant O’Malley, sir, permission to demonstrate my abilities.”
“Granted,” O’Malley replied, pulling a pen out of his pocket. Using three quick hand gestures, Ramos telekinetically lifted the pen, turned it, and sent it flying into a nearby tree.
The last in the line was a man of Korean descent. He stated, “Lance Corporal Harrison Jeong. U.S. Marine Corps, sir.” With a nod from O’Malley, he walked over to a cement block, curled his pinkie finger around the wire loop at the top and effortlessly lifted it into the air.
“How heavy is that?” Nathan whispered to Kendrick.
“Well over six hundred pounds,” the colonel replied coolly.
Nathan turned to the troops. “The nation thanks you for your service. We are living in a rapidly changing world and you are our answer. Your mission, your duties, your objective has not changed. You are still called to protect the nation. You have great courage to do what you’re doing. And your first mission awaits you in
: : :
Silver Springs
The walls of the large warehouse were covering in canvas. Large sheets of it were attached to metal frames hung from the ceiling by pulleys. Dozens of these mechanisms were suspended around the entire perimeter of the room. Two horizontal rows, completely filled with paintings, were raised high above eye level, out of the way. A third row of canvas, empty except for half of north wall, was low enough to paint upon. Usutu finished painting a picture of Peter Petrelli standing next to some sort of monstrous human. He sighed, took a picture of it with a digital camera, and moved on. Behind him, the camera was attached via cable to a computer, which e-mailed the photo to an address: precog@whitehouse.gov.
Usutu moved ten feet to the left, pulling with him a cart of paint in plaster bowls. His eyes white, he began to paint anew. Long, yellow hair appeared; flesh tone filled in the face; red colored a dress on a distinctively female form. Deep brown painted Usutu’s own form, sprawled on the ground, and more red painted a puddle around his head.
No sooner did he awake and peer at the image did he fall to the ground from dizziness. He rolled on the ground, his hands grasping at the air. He finally caught his paint cart, dragging it down. Plaster bowls crashed to the ground. The bowl carrying the deep scarlet of his female figure landed near his head, splattering the ground around him with red paint.
She studied his paintings and noted his penultimate one, with Peter Petrelli and the monster. Smiling, she thanked the woozy Usutu and left.
: : :
Mohinder, Peter, and Molly
Brooklyn,
Mohinder suddenly looked up from his microscope.
“Dr. Suresh?” Peter prompted.
“Aerosol.”
“Yeah, this place does have a distinctive aroma,” Peter agreed.
“No,” Mohinder commented, “compulsory injections are unfeasible. If we could produce the antidote as an aerosol, we could spray it on large masses of people.”
“It could work,” Peter commented, “but that’s a lot of hair spray cans.”
“No, it would require some sort of specialized mechanism. I’m unfortunately not an engineer.”
Molly studied Mohinder’s back. She pulled out one of the crusty scales and threw it aside with disgust, wiping her fingers off on her jeans. A cockroach scurried across the floor around the discarded scale. “What kind of animals do you have here?” Molly asked on a whim.
Mohinder turned to her with a perplexed expression. “None.”
“You have roaches.”
“Well, yes, probably spiders and ants, too. It’s an unkempt lab. Why?”
“Well, you can climb a wall like a spider; you’re super-strong and durable and fast. Do you think that your power is to take attributes from all the bugs and insects around you?”
“Some sort of insect mimicry ability? It’s a thought. Are you hypothesizing that that is the source of my outward mutation?”
“Did not mean for this to turn into science class, but yeah. You said you got the formula wrong. No one else’s ability changes their physical appearance. Maybe it just lets all the attributes get through. And that’s why you’re turning into some sort of cockroachy-spider thing.”
Mohinder studied his arm again, pulling out one of his scales and disposing of it on the ground with a similar expression to Molly.
: : :
Audrey Hanson and
Highway
Audrey, driving a brick red Nissan Altima, turned to the woman in the passenger seat. She was a lean woman of Native American descent. Over khaki slacks, she wore a white shirt, unbuttoned low over a slight bust, and coral red jacket over that. On her right hand, she wore a beaded bracelet with two large feathers attached.
“Sparrow, would you mind if I asked what the feathers meant?”
“Not at all. It is a sacred Hopi traditional dating back hundred of years. They represent the deep-seated belief in not being mistaken for Mexicans.”
Audrey smiled but did not laugh. “How did you get in this business?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a surprise, you could say. I was a bag-and-tag.” She pulled down the collar of her shirt to show the scar on her neck. “But when those shots became available, I saw people taking them for all the wrong reasons. People from back home, people I was related to, started taking them so that they would fit the profile of the magic Indian.” She rolled her eyes. “But it went from tasteless to dangerous. A few narrow-minded individuals, thinking they could take retributions…” She waved off the conversation, “What about you?”
“I was FBI…” Audrey began, noticing Sparrow sitting stiffly in her seat. “Got a beef with the government?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m used to it. People never like law enforcement until they need them.”
Lightly, Sparrow explained, “Oh, I’m just a professional protester. When a Democrat’s in office, I protest economic policies that rely too much on heavy taxation. When it’s a Republican, I protest rampant deregulation of industry. I think wearing fur is cruel and working with PETA is crueler. It’s tragic we’ve never had a black president and more tragic that when we do it might be because of affirmative action. Basically, don’t take anything I say seriously. Anyway, you were saying?”
“So, I got assigned the Sylar case a few years back, got wrapped up in this world, and the rest is history.”
“Must be weird working with him.”
“I prefer to think of it as working in the same office as him. I just have to ask…”
Sparrow was quick to divine, “Elle?”
Slowly, Audrey asked, “How does…?”
“It’s a psychology dissertation waiting to happen.” She pulled out the assignment file, “So, what are we up against?”
Audrey had read it. “Neighbors say his name is Hugh Ogden. He moved back a few weeks ago and now the ground shakes.”
“Earthquake manipulation? That’s a priority red. Why would Angela send a couple of rookies?”
“He’s not doing a whole lot of damage with his ability, if it is quakes. Let’s hope we’re not looking at another
Hugh Ogden turned out to be a mountain man-looking fellow. He was six feet four inches, burly, with a long gray beard and a penchant for stomping his feet.
Audrey was quick to use her training against him. She leapt from cover point to cover point, finally able to bounce off a tree and kick him square in the jaw while Sparrow distracted him.
He was made of stronger stuff that Audrey’s feet. The agent discovered that being a few feet away from tremor-creating feet was not a good idea. Luckily, Sparrow used her concussive screaming to throw him back, right into his log cabin, which did little but anger him more. A leaping stomp shook the ground enough to rattle hundreds of leaves off the street and destroy the agents’ car’s suspension.
Audrey resorted to her gun but found it impossible to keep a steady hand with the rumbling earth. “A little help here,” she pleaded.
Sparrow, flat on her back, screeched out into the trees. Branches rained down around Ogden, who sought shelter behind a wood pile. Carefully aiming, Audrey fired a shot into a tree trunk beside the wood pile. Sure enough,
“What the hell, you banshees?”
Audrey tried to calm him. “Mr. Ogden, we’re just going to take you on a little trip. We’ll study you and most likely bring you back. Assuming you don’t prove to be a liability.”
“Goddamn IRS can’t do that!”
“We’re not from the IRS,” Audrey replied, holding her gun steady, “Listen, I’m going to cuff you. Against my FBI training, I’m keeping my finger on the trigger of this pistol. You try taking a step and I’m liable to fire at random. God forgive me for whatever part of your body I blow off.”
Once Audrey had
It also shattered a dying tree across the lawn. Before Audrey’s eyes, a long strip of wood fell from the sky and impaled Sparrow through the shoulder. Pistol-whipping
Audrey pulled a knife out of her calf holster and shredded both her and Sparrow’s jackets. She wrapped the cloth all around the offending impalement, closing off the blood supply with a makeshift tourniquet. A no-signal indicator on her cell phone taunted her.
Finding their vehicle out of commission, Audrey carried her partner down the hill until she reached the base, offering her a splendid view of the landscape, dotted by something more beautiful: a cell tower. She called 911.
Hours later, she called the office, surprised to find Angela still at her desk past eleven. “Her arm’s never going to be the same. The wood destroyed her shoulder joint. No, it’s some Podunk county hospital.” A nurse scowled at her and Audrey scowled back. “All they had was Synthetic blood. Healed the wound up pretty nice but Lord knows it won’t set right. No, they couldn’t. She could have bled out before some Natural blood arrived. Plus, it’s past the six-hour threshold.” She paused to let Angela speak, growing angry. “Well, you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t have paired me up with someone with three months experience.” She hung up.
When Audrey turned around, Sparrow was frowning at her. Her arm was in a sling.
“It’s not you,” Audrey tried to explain. She sighed, “How are you?”
After a steely silence, Sparrow’s face softened. “It hurts like hell. Am I on desk duty?” Audrey nodded sympathetically. “Damn, I knew it. Thanks for saving my hide. Like five times.”
“Six. You got about two pints of good ol’ Hanson blood in you.” She slipped the shoulder of her blood-stained shirt to show a bandage on her upper arm.
Sparrow smiled. “Thanks again. How’s
“A little worse for wear, but Angela sent Meredith and Vic up to retrieve him. They’ll be down to take us home after that.”
“Should have sent another team besides us?”
“Sparrow, I get the feeling that we’re fighting a losing battle. I just heard on the news that as of today the world is 50% Special. Something’s gotta give. Let’s hope it’s not the world.”Episode 14: An Unbreakable Loyalty
Director's Commentary: After the month-long hiatus, it was nice to put out another episode. The entire cast was tireless in expanding my version of the HeroesVerse. And it was inspirational for me, as this episode represents the turning point in the series, where I finally acknowledged that it was no light venture. I had to go back and make plans for what would amount to an additional six to ten episodes, nearly doubling what I already had to create. I had to go back and balance characters with actors' schedules and revisit the entire content of the last twelve episodes so that I wouldn't leave anything hanging. Most importantly, I had to accept the responsibility that a powerful finale would have to be written to justify stringing my audience along for six months.
This is probably one of my favorite episodes. I got to put the Nathan's Super-Army on screen. I also brought up a lot of threads that will be cropping up for the remainder of the series. Also was the final unveiling of Sparrow Redhouse as the partner of Audrey Hanson. Just so much going on!
Written and Directed by Christopher VanDrey
Hayden Panetierre ... Claire Bennet
Greg Grunberg ... Matt Parkman
Milo Ventimiglia ... Peter Petrelli
Adrian Pasdar ... Nathan Petrelli
Adair Tishler ... Molly Walker
Sendhil Ramamurthy ... Mohinder Suresh
Clea Duvall ... Audrey Hanson
Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine ... Usutu
Elizabeth Lackey ... Janice McHenry
Richard Brooks ... Col. Donald Kendrick
Jim Beaver ... Hugh Odgen
Jess Rowland ... Sgt. Anthony O'Malley
Samuel Jones III ... S.A. Dalton Henry
Matt Dallas ... Agent Speedster
Julia Jones ... Sparrow Redhouse
Alisa Reyes ... Spc. Belle Ramos
Marc Blucas ... A1C Brock Johnson
Michael Landes ... Pfc. George Palladino
Johnny Yong Bosch ... LCpl. Harrison Jeong
Sam Grunberg ... Tommy McHenry
