Storms. Fires. Droughts. Famines. Conquerors. Death. These are the things that led the cultures of antiquity to believe that they worshiped proud and demanding gods. So, to gain favor, they sent gifts… sacrifices. The Israelites burned crops and slaughtered livestock. The Greeks did the same for their pantheon. The Aztecs practiced human sacrifice. Even today we are not exempt from holy duties. Muslims make pilgrimages to Mecca. Jehovah’s Witnesses proselyte from door-to-door. Latter-Day Saints do as well, and take missions of good works. Many Christians become missionaries, spending years helping the poor, sick, and broken-hearted. Some become monks or nuns. Buddhists become ascetics like founder, Gautama, did. True as it is that we have free will, there is no denying that we live our lives by codes. We are bound to obey the laws of our country. We follow the rules, spoken and unspoken, of our jobs and our families and ourselves. Do we dare deny the wisdom our forefathers? Can we submit ourselves to the duties we cannot defy? Or else, face the consequences. The storms of chaos. The fires of punishment. The famines of love.
: : :
Sylar, Elle, and Noah Gray
Primatech Research Facility
Barstow, California
2011
The struggling 4-year-old writhed violently as Sylar held his progeny against the cement wall. In his mind, Sylar could see all the little parts of his son. Every cell of his body stood ready to catalog any damage and to prepare to erect new barriers against harm. Like his grandfather, his father, and his uncle, Noah’s DNA was ready to activate new code.
Sylar’s first attempt to slice open his son’s head proved fruitless. His extra-durable skin had a harder composition and an interlaced cellular configuration that made the effort of breaking apart the cells too extensive even for Sylar’s telekinesis. But a quick mental analysis told Sylar the weakness. This time, he cut the skin inside to outside. It still took extreme effort, but a small slit began on to form on Noah’s head.
Feeling major pain for the first time in a week, Noah screamed in agony.
And suddenly he wasn’t Noah anymore. He was Elle with a line of blood across her forehead. He was Claire, the cap of her skull gone, blood staining her blond hair. He was Brian Davis, his face mangled beyond recognition. He was Trevor Zietlan and Zane Taylor and Ted Sprague and Bridgette Bailey and Charlie Andrews and the two dozen nameless inmates and five unknown soldiers, their eyes lifeless.
When Gabriel became aware of himself again, he was shivering on the floor of his son’s cell. He watched Elle discharging a massive ball of electricity and raced over to hold her son.
The young boy wrapped his arms around her leg, causing Elle to wince. She wrapped her hands around his head and kissed it. “It’s going to be okay, Sweetie.” She turned her head to scowl viciously at her husband.
Noah peaked around her leg. “Why is Daddy crying, Mommy?” he asked.
Elle, not taking her hands away from Noah, replied, “Because Daddy was a bad boy and got into trouble and…” she finished poisonously, “Mommy’s going to throw him in time-out now.”
She turned back to her son, noting the cut on his forehead was already scabbing over. She kissed it, leaving her lips raw. Noah disentangled himself from her leg, leaving her pant leg in tatters and her leg covered in small cuts. Noting the damage, he started to apologize profusely. Elle sweetly stopped his plea, telling him, “It’s okay. You were scared. I can get new pants and I’ll just tell people I cut myself shaving. A dozen times. It was dull razor.”
A relieved Noah went back to practicing holding drinking glasses.
Elle turned back to the crumpled heap of husband on the floor and extended two electricity-filled fingers toward her husband.
His voice weak and speech broken, he asked, “How could you… let me… I almost… do that… our son?”
Elle’s face softened and she dropped the outstretched hand. She crumpled over and knelt down to kiss her husband on the forehead.
: : :
Mohinder, Molly, Micah, and Peter
Suresh’s Lab
Lower Manhattan, New York
2011
Micah sat at a table against the wall, repairing his dragonfly robot. He was meticulously scraping off the spiderweb-like substance on the metal wings. Behind him sat Molly at the center table, reading through a thick folder full of dossiers written in Japanese. She stared at the picture, concentrated, and then wrote down the name and location on a yellow legal pad. Beside her was Mohinder, spraying aerosol cans on microscope slides and looking at the results.
Peter was scribbling on the chalkboard, occasionally teleporting in and out with more files from the abandoned church on a remote Japanese island.
There was a gust of wind as a petite blond woman appeared apparently out of nowhere. In her arms was a sleeping infant. She eyed a speechless Molly, now too stunned to speak. Daphne’s eyes scanned the room, seeing a teenage boy building some sort of insect-like robot, a humanoid creature covered in scales, and the terrorist Peter Petrelli with the infamous diagonal scar marring his face.
As Peter took a step forward, Daphne prayed, “I have a baby. Please.”
Peter telekinetically yanked the baby from her arms and placed it in Molly’s. “Don’t do anything rash,” Peter commanded.
Daphne rushed forward toward Peter. Peter, however, felt time slow down around him, almost like Hiro’s ability, and he was easy able to jump away from Daphne, who leapt up onto the chalkboard and thrust herself forward along the back wall. Peter began to follow, blocking her from attacking Mohinder.
“How are you doing this?” Daphne asked, still in super-speed.
“Mimicry. I copied your ability the moment you stepped into the room.”
“Well, let’s see how good your copying skills are.”
Daphne raced out of the room at an inhuman speed, even at Peter’s accelerated perception. He chased after her through the streets of New York. She was familiar enough with the maze of the Manhattan to quickly lose Peter, but not for long, as Peter was capable of flying. Daphne wondered if he had absorbed some ability that allowed him to track her as well. With another burst of speed, he lost her again.
He finally caught up with her in Southern Michigan, then again in Bellefleur, Oregon. She tried every tactic to shake him. He plowed through snow mounds that Daphne glided over on the Northern tip of the Yukon. He was immune to the smoggy air of Mexico City. She took a detour to the Dominican Republic, and even though he apparently didn’t know the trick for skimming across water, he somehow found her again in Brazil as she was admiring the Carnival festival.
“Strange. It’s not even close to Mardi Gras,” she heard him whisper in her ear.
“Tourist trap,” she responds calmly, showing Peter a souvenir Carnival mask. No sooner were his hands on the item than was she gone.
As she navigated herself through a colony of penguins in Argentina, she heard him call out to her. She began to run backwards, seeing penguins being tossed aside telekinetically as he raced toward her. The penguins landed on their feet and began to waddle back unaffectedly toward their mates.
“I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I’m working with your husband,” he called out.
“Matt?” The surprised caused her to trip over backwards.
But when Peter approached her, she disappeared again. He chased her until he found her at the Ventimilla Summit of Mount Chimborazo in the Andes Mountains. They met up again at the Port Reyes Prison in San Diego, but fled when they noticed several sedans approaching. Peter found her again at the Alamo; then again at the Indianapolis Speedway; then again at the U.S. Department of the Treasury; and finally again back at Mohinder’s lab.
Before his eyes, Mohinder found Peter and the disappearing blond woman panting their lungs out.
“Apparently I got the wrong impression,” mentioned Daphne as Molly raced over with her baby sister.
“I explained it all to her,” noted Peter.
“Explained it all?” Mohinder remarked with confusion, “This woman appeared here not fifteen seconds ago. How on earth could you explain the intricately complicated situation that we find ourselves in?”
“My mom’s really fast,” explained Molly.
“Mom? Wait, are you Matt’s wife?” Mohinder smiled, “Daphne? He’s told me so much about you. I’m Mohinder Suresh.” He extended his hand, which Daphne eyes warily. He revoked it, remarking, “Actually, most people wouldn’t want to do that.”
“You’re Mohinder? You don’t look anything like your picture.”
Mohinder smiled, “I’m afraid not. This is what happens when you don’t get the Formula right.”
: : :
Gabriel and Elle
Primatech Research Facility
Barstow, California
2011
Gabriel was shivering on the bed, his head in his wife’s lap, as she stroked his hair methodically. He finally worked up the courage to speak, “Elle, how could you do that? Save yourself and point me toward our son. I could have…”
“Gabriel, what’s the worse that could happen? That our son dies?” She remarked flippantly. “Gabriel, I had to save myself. Someone had to protect our son.” Her hand stopped stroking his head and she grabbed handful of hair.
“But my abilities…”
She sent a stronger-than-usual spark through Gabriel’s head. “Trust me. I would have found enough electricity in me to reduce you to a pile of ashes. Regeneration or no regeneration. And if that didn’t work…” She pulled out a pistol from the back of her jeans. “Bullet to the back of the head.” She sent another spark in the spot where she would have shot him. “You wouldn’t have time to stop me; I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. And since the cartridge is full, I would have followed it up with sixteen more, equally spaced around your head.” She illustrated with more sparks around his crown, and finished by taking a hold of the hair on the back of his head. “If your skull didn’t fall off, I’d bash your head against the wall until it did. And if your brain wasn’t in enough pieces for my liking; we have a woefully underused blender.” She fired a streak of lightning into the kitchen. The sound of the indicated blender permeated into the room briefly. “Nobody hurts my son.” She laid her hand on his forehead so that he’d look into his eyes, smiling.
“There’s a reason I married you.” Gabriel took hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss lingered, and, feeling her hands beginning to untuck his shirt, he pulled away. “Ten seconds ago, you were plotting my horrific death. You sure change moods fast.”
Toying with the clasp on his pants, she replied, “And this is news to you?”
“I guess not,” he replied, rising to a kneel, grabbing his wife by the shoulders, and roughly shoving her flat onto the bed.
Well over an hour later, an unclothed Elle sat on top of her exhausted husband and she amused herself by causing the muscles in Gabriel’s hands to twitch with her power.
“So, you got a host of new abilities then?” she finally asked.
Sleepily, he replied, “I did. Without the hunger suppressing my emotions, I’m not going to be able to call on them until I internalize the guilt.” He pushed away her tormenting hand and flicked his wrist as if to activate pyrokinesis, but only managed to cause a spark to travel to Elle’s outstretched hand.
She flinched. “You feel bad about killing a zapper already?”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “There weren’t any. None of the inmates or Legionnaires had electrical generation.” He again made his hand spark.
“You sure?”
“I have enhanced memory. I’d recall.”
Elle slithered on top of him. “Is that why you were in top form today? You set the bar pretty high for future… missions.”
“Well, with you yammering instructions the whole time…”
She cut him off, “Excuse me? Don’t get a big head, but I wasn’t exactly coherent back there. I wasn’t giving you instructions.” Gabriel’s brow furrowed and Elle commented half-annoyed, “I know that look. What’re you figuring out?”
“I have telepathy.” Elle just shrugged. He continued, narrating mostly to himself, “I think when Parkman attacked me, I was able to get into his head, too. My ability is all about the mind, so maybe I was able to get to it just by being inside his head.” Elle twisted her lips and nodded overdramatically. He proudly announced his conclusion, “Maybe that’s how I was able to access your ability. Mental intercourse.”
“Now you’re just getting me excited all over again.”
“I may not survive the day.”
“Oh, come on; you knew this is how you were gonna go.”
: : :
Claude Rains
Odessa, Texas
1999
As he descended in free fall off the bridge, Claude’s only thought was that the bullets were too shallowly embedded in his skin. Bullets shot from a pistol at ten feet should have been through-and-through’s. After a few seconds, he crashed through something. It felt like a plate-glass window.
Except that was impossible in the forest. Then it happened again.
It can’t be real glass, Clause thought, real glass is harder. Claude had been put through three windows in his time. The first two he survived merely because he had been able to shoot through them to soften the blow, along with wrapping himself in a coat to protect him from the shards. The third was California safety glass, which didn’t break into sharp pieces, meaning he suffered painful gashes instead of his skin being turned to linguine.
He fell through the strange barriers four more times, suffering whiplash each time, before gravity finally put him on the soft earth below, which was not near as soft as Claude would have liked. He was content to wallow in his pain for a while, but someone came and helped him to his feet. Standing was the very position he wasn’t in the mood for, given the bullets and the whiplash and the bruises, but the Good Samaritan eased him under the bridge and laid him against the incline.
Before him was a teenage girl with black hair. He called out to her, “Abby, what’re doing here? Bennet…”
“Bennet thinks you’re dead and doesn’t know of my existence.”
“So I suppose I’ve got you to thank for that magical ride down?”
“My fields aren’t at 100% yet,” she apologized as she began to unbutton his shirt. She noted the two bullets embedded just below his skin. Without another word, she held her hand above him. The edges of the bullets began to shimmer with a bluish tinge and were soon forced out.
“Bloody hell!” Claude screamed at the sudden onslaught of pain.
Abigail simply wrapped her jacket tightly around Claude’s torso and held pressure on his wounds.
Breathing heavily, Claude managed to cough out, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you.”
“Sorry for the role reversal,” Abigail quipped, “At least we’re free.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Your file. It wasn’t at Primatech. Arthur has Bob looking after it in Hartsdale. We’ll need to head to New York.”
“Claude,” Abigail pleaded.
“What?”
She embraced him in a tight hug, “Thanks… for protecting me.”
Groaning, Claude returned the embrace. “I promised your mum I would. I like to keep my promises.”
“And we’ll go back to London?”
Claude nodded. “Soon. First, Hartsdale.”
“Actually, first, doctor.”
“I’ve had enough doctors for one lifetime.”
: : :
Matt Parkman
Lower Manhattan, New York
2011
Matt stumbled into Mohinder’s laboratory, finding only his daughter holding a checklist and a red pen, and Micah studying a rougher-looking version of his dragonfly robot and sneaking glances at Molly.
Molly raced to hug her father. “Dad! Where’d you go?”
“California. I had to take care of something,” he noted gravely.
Molly ignored his tone. “How’d you get there and back so fast?”
“Airplanes. I was able to convince flight attendants that I belonged on the flight. And that it was going back to New York instead of, Albuquerque or wherever.”
Molly eyes lit up. “Dad, you’re not gonna believe it!”
Before she had a chance to respond, Daphne appeared in the room, “No-go on Byron Bevington. His house was broken into and he’s missing…” She looked up and muttered off at the sight of her husband. She soon found herself in a crushing, spinning hug. They began to kiss passionately, but were interrupted by Molly clearing her throat.
“Sorry,” Daphne muttered insincerely to her daughter.
“But, you were in a coma,” Matt mentioned.
“Well, you know how some people spend like twenty years in a coma? Well, I pulled it off in two days. What up?”
“How did you find us?”
“Well, first thing I had to do was find clothes, because my hospital robe came untied…” Matt grinned lecherously and Daphne chided him coyly with a head tilt toward Molly, “Anyway, it takes a little while to find something in my size. So then I started searching you out. Checked at home. Checked at work. Checked our hangouts. Checked our safe houses. Finally figured maybe you’d sought out your old life partner.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Matt noted uncomfortably. “Where Daniella?”
“Uh, Peter should have him.”
“He’s on our side, you know.”
Daphne nodded knowingly, “Yeah, we had a track meet across the continent where we worked that out.”
“Is that where the tequila bottle came from?” Matt picked up the glass vial of amber liquid off a table full of strange rectangular holes.
“Yeah, picked it up in Guadalajara.”
“You had pesos on you?” Off Daphne’s non-response, he glowered.
“I’ll return it. Or pay for it.” Matt’s scowl didn’t disappear. “Look, old habits die hard.” Matt continued to look disappointed. “See, this is why cops don’t marry thieves.”
Matt nodded. He called out to the back, “Hey, Pete, you got my daughter?”
Mohinder emerged with the toddler. “Peter had to run an errand. I’ve got her.” Daniella was giggling in his arms, grabbing his scaly nose. “She doesn’t seem to mind my appearance. In fact, she seems to rather enjoy pulling out my scales and trying to put them in her mouth.” Off the panicked looks of the parents, Mohinder clarified, “I said ‘trying.’” He quickly seized another crispy scale from her tiny fist and tossed it away. Daniella, unfazed, reached toward his ear.
Matt asked, “We tried to get Molly to find you. She couldn’t.”
Daphne shrugged, “I can’t explain that.”
Micah, carrying his robot, approached the couple, “Not to rush this beautiful family reunion,” he noted without sarcasm, “but a lot has happened since you left, Matt. We’ve got a new plan of action.”
: : :
Nathan Petrelli
The White House
2011
Nathan stood alone in his office, only the light of his desk lamp and the glow of the large television tuned to GNI Network News. His face was marked with deep creases as he watched the news solemnly.
Ngozi Badu, the beautiful Nigerian anchor, reported, “Only nine days after the Costa Verde disaster, a series of terrorist attacks by suspected Specials occurred today in the United States. A Pensacola, Florida man has been arrested by the newly formed Powered Legion after destroying several beach-front homes. Also, a man in Chicago, Illinois was captured for attacking the front of the John Hancock Building. No one was injured, but damages were in the hundreds of thousands of US dollars.”
Alistair Coles, the blond Scottish co-anchor, followed, “Abroad, Costa Rica experienced massive forest fires, losing almost twenty square kilometers of rain forest land. No word yet whether a Special was involved, though Costa Rican investigators have teamed up with the United States’ Powered Legion to examine this possibility.”
“A Special in the Czech Republic is responsible for at least five deaths and more than a hundred injuries to the population of his small town. Details are forthcoming. A massive explosion struck the Eastern coast of Indonesia today, causing tsunamis, flooding, and thousands of deaths. No trace of explosives was found, and an unnamed Special is suspected.”
“Scientists with NASA and CERN were baffled today when the Moon appeared to drift down several thousand kilometers toward the Earth. It quickly fell into a shorter but stable orbit, but they caution that a moderate increase in tides will occur. Many coastal countries, including coastal US states, have declared a state of emergency. U.S. Senator Daniel Doyle criticized the President for being, and I quote, ‘soft on Special criminals’ but added his praise for the newly created Powered Legion and their early, divisive action.”
Tracy entered the room without knocking. “Nathan, baby, Marty’s looking for you. He wants to get in a press conference tonight.”
Nathan recited to her, “The Malden Bill authorized the building of a prison for the Specials, built by Pinehearst, called Titanhold. In the event that a Special is deemed too dangerous, divisive action can be taken, including bondage, depoweration, or execution.” After a long grave silence, he asked, “You see the problem with locking the Specials with the most dangerous abilities in the world in one prison controlled by my father, who now has authorization to absorb their abilities if he sees fit?”
“You don’t think he would…?”
“You don’t think he wouldn’t?” Nathan snapped back immediately.
Tracy replied with silence.
There was a knock from the door, and Marty let himself in, flocked by Usutu and four Secret Service Agents. He asked, “Mr. President, are you ready?”
“Yes, Marty,” he replied.
Agent Landers shuttered but made no comment.
“Let’s do this,” Nathan declared. At once, Marty left the room to retrieve the camera crew. Nathan took a seat at his desk. Tracy knelt beside him and adjusted his tie. Agent Renfrass, tall, dark, and astute, stood by the entrance, while the willowy bespectacled Agent Landers took her place in front of it, ready to question the entering camera crew members. The beefy Agent Braham stood to one side of Nathan’s desk, pumping his fist. Agent Lake stood on the other, breathing deeply. Usutu took a seat at the far end of the room.
The overlarge moon hung low in the night sky behind Nathan in the window.
Displaying none of his typical charisma, Nathan began speaking into the television camera, “My fellow Americans, no doubt you have heard about the tragedies occurring today…”
: : :
Pinehearst Company
Fort Lee, New Jersey
2011
Arthur admired the moon from his office window. He turned to his assembled associates.
Flint stood wide-legged with flame bursting alternately from each hand. The Haitian stared at him from across the room, clearly debating whether to disable his ability. Claire, with her arms crossed, showed no emotion. Her team hung behind her, towering above her but exuding much less power. Echo DeMille remained aloof as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. Edward Pall tapped his foot and twirled a quarter between his fingers; both actions were done with such speed that they were a blur. Piper Johanssen tried to pop her fingers, but they of course bent backwards.
Arthur finally spoke, unable to keep a grin off his face, “Congratulations. Our army is performing admirably. Some of the most dangerous Specials on our planet have been captured and incarcerated in Tartarus. So their… intriguing… abilities are no longer a threat to the world.
“And you all have done exceptional work. You handled the Port Reyes incident and kept it under wraps.
His tone changed to melancholy. “But all is not well. Miss Zimmerman has yet to check in with her progress on retrieving the second half of the Formula. We are down to only a handful of injections, which has brought a halt to our income. Our tenuous alliance with the Presidency has final broken, though we do retain the upper hand for now. In addition, we’ve also lost several quality agents in the past week.
“But no worries. We will be on the winning side of this war. It’s a biological imperative.”
: : :
Primatech Research Facility
Barstow, California
2011
At the front entrance of the Primatech facility, Angela extended her hand to her guests. “Miss Carlson, so nice of you and your agents to join us.”
Amy Carlson nodded, “It’s my honor, Mrs. Petrelli. Given the day's events, I thought it was a most prudent idea. I brought my premiere team. This is Monica Dawson and Lyle Bennet.” She gestured back to the agents.
“I’m familiar with them both.”
“Hey, Scrappy,” Elle catcalled to Lyle, “nice threads.”
“Sparkles. Nice serial killer,” Lyle replied in the same tone of voice.
Elle took the remark in stride and, as if she were describing a new purse, she held her husband’s arm and mentioned, “It’s he the cutest? I even got him on sale.”
Bess rolled her eyes. Ryan grinned at the strange endearment between the two.
Angela turned to her returning agent and welcomed him. “Vic, welcome back. I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve shuffled some people around. I’m partnering you with Miss Redhouse. She’s still a little green and she could use some training.”
Victor surveyed the attractive Hopi woman and nodded appreciatively. “I don’t mind at all. What happened?” he asked, indicating the sling on her arm.
“Oh, you know, tree fell through my shoulder. It’s still a little stiff.”
“I know the feeling. My right knee’s never been the same since a telekinetic threw me into a Nissan Titan.”
Audrey whispered to Meredith, “Your old partner’s kind of a flirt, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t flirt with me. He knows my husband could kick his ass.”
Lyle noted Monica had separated herself from the group and was starting at the moon.
“Monica…”
“New Orleans is gonna flood, you know,” she commented without turning to face him.
“You heard what Thayer said. Minimal flood damage. They’ll fix the levees and erect walls along the lower beaches…”
“I’m just tired of my home being beaten down by God.”
Lyle chuckled. “It takes more than a little water to defeat The Big Easy.”
“We’re in for the fight of our lives her, Bennet. How can you stay so optimistic?”
“My dad saved the world a hundred times and he still made it home for dinner most nights. He died doing the same. I’m not letting the world fall on my watch.”
“Did I ever tell you you’re a hell of a partner?”
“No,” Lyle remarked plainly.
“Well, there’s a reason for that,” she remarked sarcastically.
: : :
Mohinder’s Laboratory
Lower Manhattan, New York
2011
“It’s not going to be safe here much longer,” Matt reiterated.
Daphne fed her daughter with a bottle, nodding. “Micah, you sure about this?”
“Aunt Tracy thinks I’m using the safe house for a LAN party.”
“What’s that?” Molly asked.
“Hook up a bunch of computers together and play games.”
“Shoulda figured,” Molly commented before Micah could go on. She took hold of a small plastic terrarium containing Little Mohinder.
Mohinder entered from the other room, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and carrying a bag. As all stared at him, he noted, “While it’s refreshing that you’re so used to my looks that you don’t think I need to hide myself.”
“Actually, we, or at least I was, were thinking you should put on gloves.”
Mohinder produced a pair from the front pocket of his sweatshirt.
“Glad to see we’re on the same page.”
As they stepped out, they marveled at the visible increase in moonlight, especially over the brightness of the City.
: : :
Pinehearst Company
2011
Peter deposited the unconscious Barbara on the ground near a dumpster outside the Pinehearst Building. As she began to stir, Peter laid a hand on her throat.
She began to glow with an ethereal white light, which drained from her body into Peter. Groaning, she promptly fainted again. Peter leapt up into the sky and flew off to meet with the Parkmans and Mohinder.
: : :
A long line of cloud stretched across almost the entire height of the Earth through the Pacific Ocean, lit by an ominous orange glow.
: : :
Director's Commentary: This a really exciting chapter. It's the start of what I would consider the climax of the series. The Gabriel/Elle story hits a high note. Daphne finally returns. It harkens to very state the world is in. Pinehearst and Primatech throw down gauntlets and prepare for a battle.
The high point consists of getting Christopher Eccleston to reprise his role as Claude. A special welcome to Alia Shawkat, playing 17-year-old Abigail.
Anyway, after a brief hiatus, you'll get a brand-new episode where I'll be trying something new and giving most of the cast a break. Hope to see you after the break!
Written and Directed by Christopher VanDrey
Zachary Quinto ... Sylar/Gabriel Gray
Kristen Bell ... Elle Gray
Greg Grunberg ... Matt Parkman
Hayden Panettiere ... Claire Bennet
Milo Ventimiglia ... Peter Petrelli
Sendhil Ramamurthy ... Mohinder Suresh
Cristine Rose ... Angela Petrelli
Ali Larter ... Tracy Petrelli/Barbara Zimmerman
Adrian Pasdar ... Nathan Petrelli
Jessalyn Gilsig ... Meredith Gordon
Adair Tishler ... Molly Walker
Clea DuVall ... Audrey Hanson
Dana Davis ... Monica Dawson
Randall Bentley ... Lyle Bennet
Noah-Gray Cabey ... Micah Sanders
Thomas Robinson ... Noah Gray
Blake Shields ... Flint Gordon
Matt Dallas ... Edward Pall
Chris Carmack ... Ryan Covington
Robert Forster ... Arthur Petrelli
Brea Grant ... Daphne Parkman
Kiko Ellsworth ... Echo DeMille
Samuel Jones III ... Dalton Henry
Olga Sosnovska ... Bess Detskij
Kirk Acevedo ... Victor Abano
Jimmy Jean-Louis .. The Haitian
Rachel Skarsten ... Piper Johanssen
Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine ... Usutu
Christopher Eccleston ... Claude Rains
Geno Monteiro ... Marty
J. August Richards ... SSA Jaime Renfrass
Bailey Chase ... SSA David Braham
Brian Littrell ... SSA Brian Lake
Elizabeth Ann Bennett ... SSA Sue Landers
Julia Jones ... Sparrow Redhouse
Alia Shawkat ... Abigail
David Pitcher ... Alistair Coles
Kimberly Arland ... Ngozi Badu
Marissa Janet Winokur ... Amy Carlson
