Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form own any of the characters or ideas from the show HEROES. HEROES and all associated with the show belong to NBC and the producers of the program and creator Tim Krieg. All original characters were created by me, Mr. Chaos. Any resemblance to people currently or at once living is pure coincidental. All locations are, to the best of my knowledge, accurate.
In recent days, a seemingly random group of individuals has emerged with whatcan only be described as "special" abilities.
But for those that are known, there are many more that remain hidden, their stories untold...till now. Nothing can stay hidden forever...and some stories must be told. Every story has another side.
Volume One oftheir epic tale begins here...
"In each of our lives, there comes a moment, when we are given the chance to change everything. Where we must make a choice of which path to take. But the path, it is not always what we believe it to be."
-Mohinder Suresh
(Flint, Michigan)
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"
That steady mantra poured on from the young man's lips as he rushed to class, cutting across the grass. He ignored the winding sidewalks that others students took on their way to class. Sidewalks were for those that had time to spare.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Leaping over the short shrubs that lay in his way, he quickly pushed his way through the revolving doors of the White Build, hurrying past the vending machines and TVs that quietly showed whatever fluff CNN was airing to fill it's day. Barely registering whatever Wolf Blitzer was saying about some guy named Petrelli running for Congress, the now very late student hurried to the elevators, managing to squeeze in just before the doors closed.
'Stupid parking lot.' He grumbled. 'Stupid students all parking in the same parking lot.' He had arrived 15 minutes early, only to spend ten of those minutes trying to find a spot in the overcrowded parking garage. It didn't help that all the remaining spots that had been opened were shrunk down to compact size thanks to the SUVs and vans that were seemingly designed to make his life miserable.
'Car still has that damn scratch from the last time I tried to park next to one.' He thought as he looked up towards the elevator doors. They slide open, letting several people off…on the second floor. Glancing over, he saw that the buttons for the 3rd floor were lit as well, meaning he would have to endure the never closing doors for another round before he even had a chance to get to the 4th floor.
'Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it.'
&&&
"Small changes…they can cause big reactions. They compound, altering the world around them over and over until they have changed the world completely. It sounds crazy, but we can watch it happen a thousand times over.
"Think of it like throwing a stone in a pond. Ripples slowly form, reaching out in all directions. And as those ripples grow, others form in their wake, and these ripples grow as well, leaving their own ripples. Even when we cannot see the ripples, the water's movement has been changes…forever. All from one little stone.
"This is what the Butterfly Effect teaches us. One small change can alter the course of everything. We can not see what will cause these changes until it's too late…more times then not we don't even realize it."
The teacher smiled, looking over the class. Filled with Communication Majors, they were all here because they didn't want to be, but needed to be. A mandatory class…the kind she hated to teach. The students had no spark, no drive. Come in, punch the clock, do their time, punch out, leave. The perfect training for the mindless world of grunts, where most of them were headed.
There was only one student who really got what she was trying to teach. Who actually cared about the lessons and theories and all that boring stuff.
The one that had just walked in late…again.
"Hello Carter." She said, looking at the young man. Carter Daniels was tall and lanky, no real muscle to speak off, but not bony either. Just long and lean. He had a mop of brown hair that always ended up hanging in his eyes. Even dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans, he wasn't sloppy or anything like that.
He was the type of man that you could tell was handsome but didn't realize it. A childhood of being bullied had destroyed any chance of that. And so, he allowed himself to pushed around and ignored, when all he had to do was stand up for himself. The body was ready; it was the attitude that needed work.
Carter looked up at his professor sheepishly. "Uh…hi P-P-Professor Frey." He mentally cursed at himself for once again allowing himself to stutter. He could talk just fine in his head…but when out loud…
"Hi again Carter…would you mind taking a seat?"
"Oh…kay…" he stammered, slinking into the closest chair available. Before Prof. Linda Frey could begin her lesson, the sound of Carter's backpack open filled the quiet room. The young man grimaced, ducking his head as he hurried to get his notebook out and turned to the right page. Pen ready, he glanced up at Prof. Frey, waiting for her to begin speaking.
"Now that everyone is ready…" She said, causing Carter to look down at his notebook, "…we can begin. Now then, let us move on to management styles…"
&&&
"Carter, could I talk to you?" Prof. Frey asked, catching the young man as he headed for the door.
"Uh…y-y-ea…" He said, pushing his brown bangs away from his eyes. Making his way to the front of the classroom, he sat down at table, looking up at his teacher. Linda Frey was a young woman by teaching standards, only 7 years older then the students that she taught. Her second year on the job, she had shocked many in her classes the first day when they realized she wasn't a student. With her small frame, long black hair, youthful face and hyper attitude, one would be hard presses NOT to assume she was merely an older student.
It was her youthful nature that caused so many problems for her. Much of the older facility had noticed that Linda still held the belief that she could change the world. Even after watching as class after class of students remained just as lethargic as they had been in high school, Linda held the belief that she could make them into something great. They all smiled and nodded condescendingly as she ranted on and on about how one class would just sit there and not answer questions. To the older teachers, they knew it was only a matter of time before she lost that spark and learned to accept that she was merely a cog in the machine, or quit.
Most people like her quit.
But Linda stayed, hoping to find that one student that might prove the rest of the professors wrong. The one that was like her; the one with the drive to learn and do great things.
Carter Daniels could be that students. If only he weren't so screwed up.
"L-listen, Prof. Frey…I'm sorry about coming in late…I didn't mean to…"
"That's ok, Carter. I wanted to ask you something else."
"Oh?" He questioned nervously.
Linda looked at him carefully. "Why didn't you answer my question in class today? About Style Z?"
Carter gulped. "I-I didn't kn…kn…kn…know the answer." He managed to get out.
Linda sighed, pulling out a file. "Carter, this is a test you took for Prof. Lindel's Mass Com Theory Class. See this essay question about Style Z…you got a perfect score on it."
"I…I just f-forgot."
"Carter…" Linda said with a sigh. "How do you expect to be a reporter if you don't speak up?"
Carter looked down at his feet, finding his shoelaces all the more interesting. Ever since the 11th grade, Carter had wanted to be a television reporter. He had remembered September 11th, being so confused about what was going on in the world. One of his teachers had told them that Detroit could be a target, and if it was hit, they could be caught in the crossfire. For the sensitive teen, that had been enough to frazzle his already shaky nerves. But then, he had turned on the news, and a reporter had been talking about the terrorist attack. He'd told the public that everything would be ok, that America would be just fine.
It was funny…that reporter, some no-name brought in to help cover the story during the weeks that followed, had helped Carter more then his parents or school guidance councilor could. His words had made Carter feel safe, so he watched more of the news, slowly becoming addicted to the stories. Even after the news of 9/11 died down, Carter remained hooked on the programs. And he realized that's what he wanted to do. He wanted to be the one that made sure that other people weren't scared when tragedy struck. He wanted to soothe their fears and let them know that everything would turn out fine.
"T-this is di…di…different!" He said finally.
"Is it Carter? You freeze up in class in front of a group of your peers…and you think you can talk to millions of people?"
"It's different." Carter stressed weakly. "I won't s-see them. It will b-b-be just me, me and cam-camera man."
Linda Frey shook her head sadly, picking up the folder she had gotten the test from. "Carter, you are my best and worst student. You are years beyond your classmates. Your test scores are amazing, you retain information…you actually care about the material! You are the only student I have met so far that will remember what I taught you after the semester is over, and you will apply it!
"But you just don't have the attitude of a reporter. I'm not talking about your stuttering." She said, holding up a hand to stop the argument he was about to make. "I'm talking about the fact that you let people walk all over you. Last week, I asked you what the Nazi Swastika I'd drawn on the board was and you said it was just chalk. Katherine says your wrong and you close up, let her go on for 10 minutes about the history of the Holocaust. We were talking about Post-Modernism…you knew we were. But you just rolled over and took it."
"Why are you so angry?" Carter ground out,eyes flahsingin annoyance "I couldn't just ye-ye-yell at her!"
"Yes, you could of!" Linda exclaimed, her frustration getting the better of her. "Reporters have to push, Carter. They have to dig for a story. And they have to follow their gut. You can't be a good reporter if you just roll over!" Glaring at the young man, she stalked towards him, stabbing the air with her finger.
"C-c-calm down, Prof. Frey!" Carter cried out. "I get it!"
Prof. Frey looked at the shy student, the fight suddenly leaving her body. "I'm sorry Carter…I shouldn't have yelled at you. But…until you are willing to stand up for yourself, you'll never make a difference." She gave him a weak smile. "Do you understand?"
"Yea…" Carter said, shifting his book bag to the other shoulder.. "I've g-got to g-get to class, Professor." Turning on his heels, the young man hurried out of the classroom, leaving Prof. Frey alone, wondering what the heck had just gotten into her. She wasn't a woman known for her temper, or even a lack of patience.
So why had she just yelled at one of her favorite students?
&&&
'Make a difference.' Carter thought glumly as he plodded down the stairs, not wanting to deal with anyone at the moment. 'I'm trying to make a difference…is it my fault the world won't let me?' Not for the first time, Carter wondered why Fate had it out for him. It wasn't like he hadn't worked on improving his confidence. He'd seen psychiatrists. He'd done all the little exercises designed to break him out of his many phobias. He'd called out random questions in public to get use to potentially embarrassing situations. He'd watched himself in a mirror as he talked to break himself out of stuttering. He'd gone over every little detail of his life with a fine-tooth comb, looking for the moment when he'd become the way he was.
Nothing worked. He'd finally told his parents to stop wasting their money. No sense in them going broke to fix something that was too far-gone.
So lost in his thoughts, Carter didn't notice that he was no longer alone in the stairwell. Making his way steadily down to the first floor, he didn't see the other student rushing up until the two collided on one of the short landings that separated the stairs.
"Hey, would you watch where your…Daniels!"
Carter closed his eyes, hoping that maybe if he just didn't look, he wouldn't see who he had just heard.
"Hey Daniels, would you open your eyes?"
Realizing that nothing he did would make this wonderful situation go away, Carter opened his eyes. There, standing only a few feet away, was the grinning face of Hank Delpine.
Hank and Carter went back a bit. A year ago, Carter had begun working for the school paper, in hopes that it would allow him a chance to break out of his shell a bit, as well as give him a foothold to use in pursuing his career. Reporting for the paper was easy enough, and the editor was kind to him, letting Carter seek out his stories and find ones that didn't require him to do interviews or deal with large groups.
During one of the meetings he had been covering, the new reporter had overheard Hank Delpine give a speech about Democrats and their sins. Hank was the head of the Christian League at the college and had given the speech during one of their meetings. Carter had written up an opinion piece, asking whether it was right for someone to use a religious group to voice their political views.
Carter had been happy with the article, until his editor Kelly told him that the paper couldn't run it. It seemed that Delpine had leaned on the right people, convincing them that Carter hadn't understood what the speech was about and many of his comments were false. How his article had gotten leaked was still a mystery to him, but he had bigger problems then that. Hank Delpine wasn't the type of person to let something go. Though religious, he held a grudge like the best of them, and was willing to torment Carter whenever he had the chance.
"What were you doing, praying to God? Don't bother, God doesn't listen to people like you."
Carter looked away, trying to slink past the student and get the hell out of there. "I wa-wasn't praying."
"Of course you weren't. I forgot, you don't believe in God, do you?"
"I believe." Carter said meekly.
Hank rolled his eyes. "Yea, like God cares if you believe in him."
Realizing that he was stuck in a paradox, Carter moved a bit quicker to try and get out of Hank's line of fire. Unfortunately, the head of the UM Flint Christian League was on the ball, and not about to loss his favorite punching bag. Catching his arm, Hank pulled him back firmly to the landing.
"Where you think your going, buddy? I just want to talk to you."
"I have to g-get to cl-cl-cl…"
"Class?" Hank said. "Don't worry about class, ok? We have bigger things to discuss."
Carter licked his lips, wondering just how many of Jesus' teachings Hank followed. Because, at the moment, Hank wasn't offering to wash his feet or bless his wounds.
"Yea…heard through the grapevine that you were going another story about me…now, that can't be true, can it?"
"N-n-n-no…I-I-I don't report on that stuff anymore. You kn…kn…k…"
"Know that?"
"Yea." Carter said shakedly.
Hank nodded. "Good…I figured as much. Your not that stupid." He shook his head, a slight smirk on his face. "Nothing you could do that could really hurt me anyway…who's going to be a God-hating asshole like you?"
"I…don't hate God." Carter said softly.
"What was that?" Hank asked in mock surprise. "Did you just actually stand up for yourself? Well well well…the Lord must be workin' today, because I am seeing miracles." Hank sneered. He really did hate Carter Daniels. The young man represented why the world was in so much trouble. A lost sheep, unwilling to humble himself before God. 'He gives you life, he gives you warmth and love. And how do you repay him? By attacking his messengers. We are just trying to spread his word, and you and the rest of your demon-pagan friends want to throw us down into Hell with you.' Carter had tried to take down the messengers of God, and had never even bother to repent. That was what got Hank most of all: Carter just didn't seem to care enough to ask for forgiveness, in his view.
Hank looked down at the young man, amused. "Look at you…you'd never go against me, would you Carter? Your not that stupid. You'll never pull a stunt like you did last year again." He shook his head. "Why am I so afraid of you, then? Makes no sense…you couldn't scare anyone…go on…tell me I should fear you."
"W-what?"
"I want to hear you say it…say I should fear you." Hank taunted. "Come on Daniels…say it…"
"Y-you…y-you should f…f…"
Hank shoved him against a wall. "Say it like you mean it! Come on…tell me I should fear a pathetic, weak, annoying, insect like you. Tell me I should fear you! Come on…"
"I…I…"
"SAY IT!"
"YOU SHOULD FEAR ME!" Carter shouted, pushed to his limit. He winced as his voice reverberated through the stairwell, bouncing back and froth between the walls. He glanced upwards, hoping that there was no one around to hear his rather loud cry. 'Well, anyone other then Hank.' He thought with a sigh, glancing over to see what new torture the other student had ready.
He froze when he saw the scene before him.
Hank was crawled up in the corner of the stairwell, panic clear in his wide eyes. His entire body trembled as he locked eyes with Carter, whimpering slightly. The head of the Christian League shivered, curling up tighter.
"Don't…don't hurt me…"
"H-Hank?" Carter asked, wondering if this was some kind of trick. Maybe a trap to make him get to close…
"Please…please go away…" The student whimpered.
Carter frowned. "This isn't f-f-funny, Hank. Just s-s-stop it, pl-please." The other man shook his head violently. "H-Hank…it's not f-f-funny. You're only d-d-doing this because I said you sh…sh…should fear me." Carter noticed a strange light pour from his fingers, directly into Hank.
Letting out a scream, Hank clawed at the concrete blocks that surrounded him. Carter looked down at his former tormentor, then back at his hands.
"I…I did this, d-didn't I?" He whispered. Hank continue to cry out, rocking back in forth. Carter took one last look at the young man that had made his life hell this last year…and ran.