One of the many tenants of the Jain religion is the understanding that all behaviors, physical and mental, have consequences in this life and beyond. Jainism emphasizes non-violence, honesty, celibacy, and non-possession for these reasons. This harkens to the butterfly effect, where every action causes ripples that will forever affect the universe. Yet regardless of our perceptions of these phenomena, the truth is that tragedies befall us on a daily basis. The seeds we sow may cause the downfalls of empires. But we cannot let the wind toss us about. We have to rise up, raise our swords, and face down the storms. That is where we will find the heart of a true hero.
: : :
Piper, Edward, Echo, and Flint
Pinehearst Company
September 10, 2011
As the Pinehearts Company headquarters quickly burned irrevocably,
Piper squeaked, “How?”
“A pyro did this,” he answered stoically.
Edward stared suspiciously at
“Hi,
Edward commented, “How’d you disable the fire prevention system? You’d have to get inside.”
“We had help,” she replied plainly.
With that, Audrey Hanson emerged, pushing a wheelchair carrying Barbara Zimmerman. Both of Barbara’s hands and legs were in braces. Her skin, including her face, was marked with innumerable white lines, subtle scars from Synthetic regenerator’s blood-healed glass cuts. A bandage covered her left eye.
Echo, taking a step forward, asked with true sympathy, “How did you survive? You were put through a window and fell seven stories.”
“The window saved my life,” replied Barbara, hoarsely, “It kept me from flying too far out. I was able to catch the sixth story ledge with my left hand,” she held up the bound hand, and then continued, “and then the fourth story ledge with my right.” She held up her other hand, also bound with a brace. “My legs broke the fall. Since the only part of me that still worked were my thumbs, I was able to call Primatech on my cell; they saved my life. I thought payback was in order and since Arthur foolishly took the whole gang to Hartsdale…”
Piper lashed out, “Pinehearst wasn’t just an army; it was an office with pencil pushers; a school with children; a nursery with babies; a hospital with sick people!”
“All evacuated.” Audrey explained, a twinge of a smirk appearing as she added, “We pulled the fire alarm.”
Echo walked away from his colleagues and approached Meredith.
“What are you doing?” Edward threatened from behind.
“Arthur’s gone. Claire deserted us,” Echo noted to Edward before turning back to Meredith. He pleaded to her, “My wife, Gina; she’s pregnant. I swear, we will disappear and you will never hear from us again…”
Meredith held her hand up, “I’m a mother, too. We’re not putting you back into Level 5, Mr. DeMille. We’ll relocate you somewhere safe. Just don’t cause any trouble.”
Nodding his head, Echo threw his Pinehearst pin the ground. Barbara, with some effort, dug her own pin out of her pocket and threw it to the ground with his. Meredith and Audrey led them away.
And with that, the three remaining Pinehearst agents surveyed their situation.
: : :
Claire Bennet and Peter Petrelli
Starry Sky
Stony Point
September 10, 2011
The water in the shower was turned up to the hottest setting. Steaming hot water attacked the mahogany-colored locks of hair, causing black rivulets to flow down her body. By the time she stepped out of the shower, her damp hair was the color of wheat and her skin the color of carnations. The pinkness faded as her skin healed itself. She wrapped a towel around her body and towel-dried her hair.
Peter was waiting when she got out of the bathroom, sitting on the bed. His normally slicked-back hair had begun to stray. He smiled and commented, “There’s the Claire I know and love.”
Claire smiled shyly and walked over to the bed, surveying her blood-stained black leather outfit with distaste.
“I figured as much,” he commented, holding up a shopping bag. “I got you something.”
Claire took the bag and pulled out a pair of a red-and-white ladies’ polo. “Red?”
Peter just nodded. Claire took the bag and stepped back into the bathroom to change.
When she came back out again, she commented, “Thanks. Much less… skanky.”
Silence filled the room. “I shot you,” she let out.
Peter shrugged and replied, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Off Peter’s non-reaction, she continued, “I shot you. With a gun. I made you dead… ish.” She sighed, “I mean, who forgives someone for that?”
Peter smiled, “Your Uncle Gabe and Aunt Ellie got over that hump.”
“That comparison is creepy on multiple levels.”
Peter lowered his head self-deprecatingly, rubbing his scarred face. “It’s been a while since I forgave anyone. I’ve been in a pretty dark place recently.”
“Two years,” Claire said with a hint of anger.
“And how long have you been shooting people for Pinehearst?” Peter snapped back.
“I deserved that.” She grabbed the neck of her shirt and pressed her fist against the phantom ache in her chest.
“We both did. Look, Claire, you tried to save the world your way; I tried to do it mine. We were both wrong. I’ve… Matt Parker and Suresh and I; we’ve found a different way. No one should get hurt. If you want…”
Claire’s answer was to pick the Pinehearst pin off her leather vest, wipe the dried blood off, and toss it into the trash can. “Count me in.”
“Let’s get some sleep.”
: : :
September 11, 2011
Luke Campbell pressed “Ignore” on his Palm Centro when “Mom” appeared on the screen. He was busy being held a hundred feet in the air by a flier over the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of
“Ready?” Luke’s partner screamed.
“Yeah,” Luke screamed back, holding out his arms. Powerful microwaves assaulted the sea, flash-boiling the waters until the rocky ridge surrounding the fault-line crack in the Earth’s crust could be seen. Luke’s companion used his cell phone to alert others.
A few miles away, Echo DeMille, carried by another flier, let out a series of powerful screams, pushing away the waters near the red-hot canyon. His flier relayed a message that the others were successful in pushing back the water enough to locate the ridges.
Another set of flier-carried Specials arrived. They were earth-movers: terrakinetics and earthquake generators, who used their abilities to drag up large walls of rock from the bottom of the ocean, creating craggy walls to hold back the pounding oceans, preventing the water from sinking into the dangerous breaks in the Earth’s surface. Some of the terrakinetics continued their work, creating large land bridges across the ever-widen chasms, hoping to buckle the pieces together. But it wasn’t more than a few minutes before these land bridges began to crumble underneath the extreme heat and pressure below.
Fliers called on their radios for phase three. Speedsters raced near the edges of the walls across the water, spraying tall streams onto and over the levees, creating clouds of steam and cooling the bridges, tempering them.
Another wave arrived. Scott Baldwin was dropped by his flier, West. As Scott’s body hit the water, he pounded the sea with his fists, causing a massive splash to erupt into the air. Above, an older woman named Millie, seated in a lawn chair carried by two fliers sipped on a self-chilled martini. As the upsurge of water reached her altitude, she calmly reached out her hand and froze the entire mass into a giant ice cube. Across the chasm was comic book chain owner Sam, carried by best friend and flier Frack; Sam telekinetically floated the mini-glacier above one of the land bridges, tore it in half and dropped it into the pit. After the inevitable steam billow, the land bridge was covered in a thick layer of black, igneous rock.
Deep below the surface, Alex Woolsly tossed large sandbags into holes he discovered in the levee walls. The bag quickly broke apart against the heat of the rock and sand pour into the cracks, creating casts. He swam many laps, repairing the innumerable holes in the wall.
: : :
Mohinder Suresh
September 9, 2011
“Who’s there?” Mohinder cried at the sudden sound of the door opening.
The Haitian entered the room with a manila envelope in hand.
“Haitian,” Mohinder greeted. He took a step back, looking for something to charge the man with.
The Haitian just smiled and visibly removed his pin, slipping it in his pocket. He held out the envelope. Mohinder warily extended his hand to take it. As he approached the man, his scales retracted into his golden skin, and his eyes returned to their normal brown color.
Mohinder looked into the envelope, his eyes widening. He tried to ask a question but the Haitian was already turning to leave, putting his pin back on.
“But, where are you going?”
“To do my job,” he replied laconically.
: : :
Nathan Petrelli
The Pentagon
September 10, 2001
Nathan, surrounded by his bodyguards, strode into the office of the newly appointed General Jacob Pradasa. Pradasa was a slight, balding man, but with a menacing glare and air of jumpiness to him.
“Mr. President,” he noted, without an ounce of regard, “how might I be of service?”
“I’m just here to let you know there’s been a change in liaison. You’ll no longer be reporting to my father.”
“I understand,” Prasada replied, with a tone indicating he did not, “any reason for the change?”
“A horrible tragedy has befallen him, I’m sorry to say.”
“My condolences,” Pradasa jumped in, flatly. “Who am I reporting to now?”
“Me,” Nathan noted.
Nathan’s chief of staff, Marty Ceppo, handed the general a card. “That is a direct line to Marty here, who is with me 24/7.”
“I’m honored,” Pradasa replied, barely concealing his disdain.
“My first order of business is Titanhold. I have spoken with the U.N. and we’ll be extraditing any foreign prisoners back to their countries of origin effective immediately. Those who are American will be tried in military court for their crimes with the legal representation of their choice. I’m sure you’ll be able to arrange the proceedings by 0800 hours tomorrow?”
“With all due respect, Mr. President,” Prasada noted with no respect in his voice, “these Specials are a danger to the world. I do not believe it would be wise to let any of them out of their cells. Those whose abilities were neutralized by Arthur Petrelli I will gladly release, but I’m afraid my conscience will not allow me to follow these orders.”
“You seem to forget that I’m the Commander-in-Chief.”
“You seem to forget that the world a lot less dangerous that your cozy Oval Office.”
Without warning his bodyguards, Nathan leapt into the air, flew over Pradasa and landed behind him, quickly slamming him onto his desk. “Grunts. Never could fight in any direction other than forward.”
To Pradasa, he noted, “I was in
“I think you’ve made yourself abundantly clear,” Prasada seethed as he lay pinned to his desk, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, that will be all.” Nathan released him, “Glad we could talk this through,” Nathan noted as his agents furiously tried to get him out of danger.
: : :
Angela and Elle
Primatech Research Facility
September 10, 2011
Elle found herself seated across the table from Angela and a black-haired female agent.
“Elle,” Angela commented mock-sweetly, “now that Gabriel is a telepath, I think it’s about time that you learned how to resist mental assaults. Telepaths can be very dangerous.” The agent beside her didn’t flinch. It was Elle who looked uncomfortable for her. Angela added, without looking at the agent beside her, “No offense.”
Equally unmoved, Agent Litao replied, “None taken, ma’am.”
“Look, Angela,” Elle commented, “Gabriel may be his son, but he’s not Arthur.”
“Elle, let’s be honest here, Gabriel is capable of much worse than my husband.”
“Hey! We’re talking about your son!”
“Elle, we are the ones who keep him sane. Just because I love my son doesn’t mean I turn a blind eye to his transgressions.” Angela spoke to her associate, “Now, Autumn, I want you to please write down my daughter-in-law’s ten deepest, darkest secrets.”
Litao began to scribble immediately, while Elle’s brow furrowed intensely in panic. Litao was already on the fourth item, which is something even Bob Bishop didn’t know about.
Angela walked out of the room, where she found her son watching through the one-way window.
“Ma, I know I’ve done bad things, but I’d never do that to Elle. I love her.”
“Your father has always loved me, and I him. It did not stop him from doing unspeakable acts to me. See for yourself.” Angela extended her hand.
“Ma…”
“Gabriel…”
Gabriel laid his hand on his mother’s. A thousand horrible memories assaulted his mind. Breathing heavily to purge the images, he stated, “I would never do anything like that to Elle.”
“Power corrupts, my son. All I’m saying is, ‘be careful.’”
As Angela walked away, Gabriel stated conjecturally, “You’re powerful.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re powerful, Ma. You run this Company with an iron fist.” His tone was not accusatory, just pensive.
“It’s true. And when I stand before my Maker on Judgment Day, I’ll have a lot to atone for.”
: : :
The Bennets
1994
Noah opened the door and let his wife walk in, holding the small toddler in her arms. He called back to his daughter, “Claire, come on!”
“I forgot my Barbie!” the little voice called back. The small blond girl, her hair in pigtails, finally raced in, holding a Barbie doll in a pink cheerleader outfit with the head and left arm twisted backwards. She raced over to her mother and new brother.
“Can he talk yet?”
“A little. Can you say, ‘Mommy’?” The young boy burrowed deeper into Sandra’s arms. “He’s shy, Claire,” she explained, “this is new and maybe a little scary for him. Do you understand?”
“Uh-huh,” Claire replied, before racing back behind her mother’s chair, and telling the head of blond hair, “My name is Claire Elizabeth Bennet. Can you say that?”
“Caire,” came a muffled voice from Sandra’s shoulder.
Claire raced over to her father. “Daddy, I made him say my name.”
“That’s great, Claire,” Noah replied, unable to keep a grin off his face.
Claire raced back to her mother. “Can I play with him yet?”
“It may be a few days before he’s ready to play,” Sandra explained. “But when he is, you’ll have to be careful. He’s littler than you and can get hurt really easily. He’s not indestructible like you.”
Claire had three visible Band-Aids on her. Strawberry Shortcake decorated her right knee; a Care Bear surrounded her right index finger; and Big Bird covered her right elbow.
“Claire, it’s almost time for Alf,” Noah noted.
Claire, nearly panicked, raced out of the dining room into the living room.
Sandra took this opportunity to caress her son’s back; Lyle unclenched his hands enough to let his mother sit him in her lap. She kissed him on the forehead. She said to her husband, “At least you didn’t find this one in a storm drain.”
“It wasn’t a storm drain…” Noah answered in a droll tone.
Sandra got up from her chair and gave her husband a long, soft kiss. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me a Mommy. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“I know. I’m sorry I was so reluctant at first. But once I got that little push, there was no saying ‘no’ I suppose. Plus, you weren’t satisfied with my offer of a dog.”
“Speaking of dogs…”
“Sandra…” Noah warned.
“Shush you. One of the ladies in my book club, Judith; she has a breeding Pom. You know, maybe, one day, when the kids are in school, I’d like to get into it with her.”
“Oh,” Noah replied, “actually, I think you might enjoy that.”
The kitchen phone emitted a shrill ring. Noah immediately picked it up, “This is the Bennets, Noah speaking… Mr. Thompson, yes, what can I do for you? Now? Alright, I’ll be right in.”
“Noah,” Sandra seethed, “we’ve not been home twenty minutes with Lyle, and you’re already escaping to work. What kind of emergency could a darn paper company have?”
“Sandra, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, Primatech is not enlightened enough to understand the concept of ‘paternity leave.’ I bargained and bartered with all my colleagues to get these three days off. The caveat was that I’d have to be on-call. I’ll be gone at most a few hours. And, Sweetie?”
“Yes, Noah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Honey.”
: : :
Mohinder and Daphne
Coolidge Safe House
September 10, 2011
Daphne stood beside Mohinder, tapping her foot rapidly, tuning the buzzing to middle-E.
“Daphne,” Mohinder prompted. Daphne zipped to other side of him. “Could you fetch me some more hydrogen peroxide and promicitamine-3?”
“Spell it.” She stated, after racing to the local drugstore and back for a pen and paper in less than a second. As Mohinder began to write, she nagged, “While I’m still young.”
Mohinder had barely torn off the paper than Daphne was off. Seconds later, she returned with a gallon-jug and a metal thermos.
“Thank you,” Mohinder noted calmly. “I’m going to need ten more gallons of deionized water.”
“That’s gonna take like five trips.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Oh, I fetched them while you were saying whatever it was you were saying.” She tilted her head toward the table across the room, where the ten water jugs sat neatly in a row.
“Well, then, we’re almost ready to proceed. Find your husband and Micah and let them know I’ll be ready to start filling the dragonflies by midnight tonight.”
“Are you sure that’s going to be enough?” Daphne studied the large pot of clear liquid on the ground.
“That is the original Formula, which I needed to make the Antidote. The Antidote can be synthesized in super-concentrated doses, which we’ll be diluting with the deionized water over there. It’s nothing more than a hormone that attaches to serotonin. Within minutes of inhalation, the body will start to produce it naturally, and it will spread like a virus.”
Daphne studied a small flask. “Wow, what makes it so blue?”
“Iodine; it’s left over from the dyeing phase. It’s naturally colorless.”
“Oh,” Daphne replied, disappointed, “makes sense. You know, we started coloring the Evolution shots. The average Joe Schmoe figured we were trying to sell them water.”
: : :
Peter and Claire
Boston, Massachusetts
September 11, 2011
“That’s brilliant,” Claire praised Peter’s idea. “Slowly de-power the Synthetics via mass diffusion. Stop the damage to the Earth before it goes too far.”
“Thanks, but without Mohinder and Micah, and frankly any of the team, this plan wouldn’t have gotten off the ground.”
“How can I help?”
“Not sure yet, but we’ll figure out something. Your connections or intel from Pinehearst maybe. I don’t know.”
“Whatever you need.”
Her offer was punctuated by a loud splat as a body hit the ground. Momentarily stunned, both Peter and Claire raced to the body: it was a female woman of Asian descent in a business skirt suit.
“I don’t have a syringe.”
“It’s okay,” Peter replied, pushing her back. He laid his hands on the woman and started to heal her.
A few feet away, there was another ominous splat, and then several more.
Eyeing the group of five bodies, Claire exclaimed, “Teleport and get me a syringe. Fast!”
Peter left the woman and teleported away. He returned with a syringe and Claire quickly began to draw her own blood.
Peter looked up into the sky. “It’s one of Micah’s robots.”
“I don’t see it. How did you…”
“Enhanced hearing from Gabriel. And sight from one of my… former associates.”
“The terrorists,” Claire questioned cuttingly.
“Yeah.”
Claire studied the group, “These guys were probably fliers. Are you sure that your Antidote doesn’t immediately remove abilities?”
“As far as I know, we haven’t tested it,” Peter muttered, staring at the bodies.
Claire put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Hey, you didn’t know. Don’t worry, we’ll save them.” She injected an older Japanese man. After several moments, his body still had not begun to heal. Panicking, she asked, “Peter, shouldn’t this only remove Synthetic abilities?” She stared at her scratched-up hands.
“I’ll fix this,” Peter whispered as he laid a kiss on the back of Claire’s head and teleported away.
“Peter!” Claire screamed.
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