Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes in anyway shape or form. All property of the TV show Heroes is owned by NBC studios.


Heroes: The Corrupted
Episode 1: Five Year Plan

Matt Parkman & Audrey Hanson
Washington, D.C.

Matt Parkman sat at his desk, the flat screen monitor displaying the time down to the second in a three dimensional wobbling text. It was two o'clock in the morning and he still had paper work to go over, Janice and his son Mathew would already be asleep. They were used to it, thought Matt as he undid his blue tie and threw it on the keyboard for his computer. He rubbed his eyes and yawned; ready to put his head down on the desk he caught a stray thought. Perhaps I should put on a pot of coffee, came the feminine voiced thought. Matt looked up to see his partner Audrey Hanson scowling with her arms crossed at the door to the small double office.

"You'd be amazing if you did that," said Matt as he leaned back in his chair and shook his computer mouse to bring up and excel sheet and a small map with selected marks on it.

"I hate when you do that," said Audrey as she filled the filter for the drip coffee maker and hit the on button and took a seat at her desk, "five years and you still do it."

"I can't believe I've lasted that long with you," said Matt with a smile on his face as he enlarged the map of the United States to have little pictures next to the marks.

"You should feel special," said Audrey as she was looking at her computer screen, "five years ago you were a beat cop on the LAPD that was on unpaid suspension for six months."

"Five years ago I was also shot in the chest four times with my own bullets from a serial killer," said Matt as he started to think of the past, "and almost killed in a nuclear explosion."

Audrey grabbed the freshly made pot of coffee and brought it over to their table. She poured a cup for herself and then passed it off to Matt. He poured his cup and mixed in two creamers and a packet of Splenda. That's not going to help you, thought his partner. Matt put the spoon down he used for stirring and looked Audrey in the eye with his eyebrow raised. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and then raised her hand in frustration.

"Will you cut that out?" she asked, "and seriously you aren't going to lose weight from using that stuff."

"Janice thinks it will help," said Matt as he sipped from his mug, "I do it to humor her."

Wiped, thought Audrey as she sipped from her cup, "any news on our favorite serial killer?"

"I don't know what to think about this," replied Matt as he examined the map at the multiple locations of individuals that had been murdered; Audrey walked around the desk to look at the map, "as many times as I go over it, nothing seems to add up. The Sylar we've been familiar with seems to have vanished. Prior to the Kirby Plaza Incident of 2007, his motive was removing of the top of the skull and the taking of the brain."

Matt clicked on a file that was on the bottom toolbar that showed several photos of brain removed victims; he scrolled through the crime scene photos, "these are the victims he had prior to the Plaza, nineteen approximately. Eleven of them were bystanders of his intended eight targets, confirmed by his not using his signature brain removal procedure. Three months after Kirby Plaza, Sylar struck again, for a period of two years...then he just seemed to vanish."

"And we almost had him with that sting operation," grumbled Audrey.

"I personally didn't like being the 'Bait'," replied Matt, "but digression aside, the trail of Sylar seemed to have ended there; the case was put on the back burner in unsolved. Okay, now five months ago more murders started to pop up with a similar description of Sylar's victims. The difference now is that it's not just skull cap separation and brain removal, but also torture."

"They're all sick fucks," replied Audrey, "now Sylar has just joined the ranks of regular serial killers."

"That's the point Audrey," said Matt as he spun around looking her in the eye, "serial killers are dictated by order, pattern and plan. Sylar was neat, simple…like with Ted prior to Kirby Plaza. He flipped a police transport to get him and then just removed Ted's brain for…whatever he does with them to gain power. There's lots of blood, yes, but it's typically quick, blunt and to the point; go in, get the brain and get out."

"You make it sound like going to the supermarket," said Audrey as she sipped her coffee.

"For Sylar," said Matt as he brought up the images of the new victims, "it's fairly similar. But this is what I'm seeming to have trouble with. This symbol here…it's burnt into the skin like a brand."

Audrey looked at the symbol that seemed that was seared in the flesh of one of the victims. It was a large J and F crossed together, or an S and T combined. Looks like a fancy cross thought Audrey as she the golden symbol that hung from her neck with her forefinger and thumb.

"Now that's an idea," said Matt turning around to wink at her.

"Goddamn you," cursed Audrey as she spun Matt to face the computer and she walked out of the room to go to the lavatory. She closed the door behind her loudly as she stomped away. The frosted glass of the door read in black letters: Federal Bureau of Investigation – Agent A. Hanson – Agent M. Parkman – Special Investigative Services.


Molly Walker
Odessa, Texas

"Miss. Walker, if you insist on being late to classes again, I will have to inform your father," said the assistant principal, "and take you off the cheerleading squad."

"My father is currently on a business trip, Mr. Yates," said the fourteen year old Molly Walker, "and kick me off the squad, it doesn't matter. Cheerleading is not the most important thing in the world."

"The requirements for the school are that you must participate in at least two seasons of sports a year," said the principal, "I do not see how you could make that up coming to the end of the summer like this."

"I'm not graduating yet," mumbled Molly.

"And with an attitude like that," said Mr. Yates as he shuffled papers, "you may never…from this institute at least."

"Can I go now?" asked Molly.

"I would like the forwarding number of your father," he said to the shocked look on her face, "please."

"Fine," said Molly as she wrote down a number on a spare piece of paper and gave it to him, "that's his international cell. You should be able to reach it anytime; he's an insomniac and a work-aholic. Can I go now?"

"Yes," replied the principal as he took up the phone.

"Oh, and Mr. Yates," said Molly as she put the bag over her shoulder, "don't call him Dr. Suresh, he hates that. Call him Mohinder."

"Sure thing," replied Mr. Yates as he began to dial, "oh, that reminds me. You have Saturday detention…as in this Saturday at seven in the morning."

"C'mon," replied Molly as she tried to argue and plead with the detention.

"Hello, Dr…I'm sorry, Mohinder," said Mr. Yates, "this is the assistant principal of Stone Hollow College Preparation school. Yes, this call does concern Miss. Walker…."

Molly didn't hear the rest. She walked out of the room and headed to the front of the school. The car was there and waiting for her. The man behind the wheel had a long square hair cut and wore horned-rimed glasses; he smiled as she opened the passenger side door and hopped in.

"How was the day," he asked.

"It was okay, Mr. Bennet," replied Molly.

"Whenever my daughter said school was okay," started Mr. Bennet as the engine turned over with a twist of the key, "usually meant that something was up."

"I was late to a class today," replied Molly, "and now Yates is calling Mohinder."

"He won't like that very much," replied Bennet, "but why were you late?"

"It was nothing," said Molly, "I as just hanging out with some friends and we didn't watch the clock."

"And you don't have a clock on your cell," he asked as he made a right hand turn.

"I do," said Molly, "but…"

"Don't make excuses," he said, "I'm just preparing you for Mohinder's phone call."

"Can I ask you something," said Molly.

"Certainly," he said as he pulled into the driveway of his new house.

"When does Claire come back from Claire come back from college?"

"She's with the Petrellis for a little while," said Bennet, "NYU isn't far from where they are, so she wants to spend a week with her grandmother and her uncle. Then she plans to come back to Texas for the summer. She has some good news too."

"What is it?" asked Molly excitedly as she got out of the car, "does she have a boyfriend? Does she have a boyfriend for me?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," said Bennet as he opened the door to his house, "it has to do with summer plans…as long as Mohinder agrees."

"I'll make him agree," said the girl as she walked into the house, "I have a way of making him say yes to whatever I wanted."

"So I've noticed," said Bennet as he grabbed his briefcase from the counter, "Mrs. Bennet is getting some groceries and will be back in a half an hour; Lyle has a football game this afternoon, one of those alumni things. And when Mohinder calls, try not to make excuses, I know I'd appreciate the truth, so he would appreciate it as well. I have to go back to the office."

"You don't need me today?" she asked as she started to nibble the nuts on the counter of the coffee table.

"Today is just office cleaning and meeting new management," said Bennet with a small frown.

"Is this guy like Thompson?" asked Molly, Bennet had forgotten she had known Thompson before his death.

"No, I was on the committee that picked him," said Mr. Bennet as he opened the door, "he seems rather legit and this is really the only reason why I went back to them."

"I had nothing to do with it?" she asked with her eyes wide and teary.

"That may work for Mohinder, but not for me," replied Bennet as he left the house; the door quickly opened again and he popped his head in, "and yes, Molly Walker, you made me see the good of the company…again."

Molly sat back on the leather couch throwing a peanut in the air and catching it in her mouth. She smiled to herself and turned on the television. Sometimes fathers can be so easy, she thought to herself. Her cell phone started to ring and she sighed, time to face the music, she flipped open the phone.

"Hi, daddy," she could practically hear Mohinder's heart fill with warmth only a daughter can bring.


Claire Bennet, Peter Petrelli & Heidi Petrelli
Rochelle, New York

The sun was out, partly cloudy though the three individuals were locked in a moment of darkness. They were at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, at the family plot that had Peter's grandparents, father and brother all interned to their earthly cells. Claire was standing apart from Peter; he hand on the granite stone that said Nathan Petrelli, Heidi was bracing herself against Peter, who was giving her a one arm hug. Peter tried hard not to think, but the power he picked up from Parkman always seemed to be active, even after five years of practice.

Why did you have to do it, thought Claire, all the things you had missed and all the things you will miss…

Heidi was no better, Monty and Simon miss their daddy…and I miss that flyboy in uniform I fell in love with. Five years does not quell my suffering, not when I see you so much in our boys.

Peter sighed, "do you guys mind if…I um…go?"

"Go," said Claire, this is his brother, and he wants to leave? "go where Peter?"

"It's okay," said Heidi, he's uncomfortable. Even after five years, "we understand, you just need to be alone."

I don't understand, thought Claire.

"I'll leave the car for you guys…I'll just walk…" he said as he let himself out of the gated plot and walked away through the cemetery. The driver got out of the car and opened the door for Peter; he waved him off and mouthed 'thank you'. The driver shrugged and went back in on the driver's side and started to play the radio. Peter sighed and kept on walking till he got to a vault and double checked he was out of eyesight and made himself invisible by thinking of a misanthropic man named Claude.

He walked a few more steps before jumping off and started to fly, gaining speed as he broke the sound barrier. Five years gave him time to practice his powers, a task he prescribed himself to since the death of his brother. He continued to fly, holding onto his invisibility so that no one could see him. Using two or more powers at once came second nature to him, but the more he used, the less control he had and the less powerful the abilities were. He landed on his balcony and then walked through the locked door, phased as Hiro would say. The covered porch that out looked the balcony was surrounded with paintings, a hobby he started to embrace for income purposes because he did not feel appropriate in hospice care, nursing or politics. Painting also allowed him to utilize the power to see into the future that he gained from Isaac Mendez, to change something…to avoid another Kirby Plaza.

He looked at one of his most recent paintings; a symbol like a strand of DNA seemed to be a continuous occurring object. He remembered one of the times he talked with Hiro about it, how he said it was a combination of Japanese terms to mean 'Godsend'. Peter saw a faint image behind one of the 'Godsend' paintings, like he had dripped paint thinner on it. He walked into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"Rough time," came a familiar voice.

"Not now," said Peter as he buried his face in his hands.

The man stood in front of him and knelt down. He was wearing a navy blue suit, blue button down shirt and red tie. His hair was combed up and over and he had a stone like expression on his face. Peter opened his eyes and turned to him.

"Don't do this to me now, Nathan," said Peter, "I've lived with it for five years…not now. Of all the powers I can control, why does this always plague me!"

"You mean, why do I plague you," replied his brother with a said smile as he sat next to Peter.

"You are dead Nathan," said Peter, "I was the one that carried your remains down…I was …the one that…killed you."

"Your subconscious disagrees," Nathan replied, "and Candice didn't help the situation none to much."


Meredith Gordon
Chiapas, Mexico

There was a knock on the trailer door. Meredith went to open it to reveal a man dressed in a black frock. A monk from the Catholic church was not uncommon to see during the day in the mercados of Mexico. A house call was different, usually proselytizing for going to church more or donating more, or both.

"Buenas tardes, usted es Senora Gordon, verdad?" asked the hooded monk in Spanish. Good Afternoon, you are Ms. Gordon, right?

"Sí," she replied, "yo soy ella. Cómo puedo ayudarse?" Yes, I am her. How may I help you?

"Pedía tener un minuto de tiempo tuyo," he asked, "estadía vuelve a mañana." May I have a moment of your time? I can return tomorrow.

"No, ahora es perfecto," she replied, "no soy ocupada con algo. Pero, usted habla en ingles? Este idioma no es primera lengua de yo." No, now is perfect, I'm not busy with anything. But do you speak English? This language is not my first language.

"English it is then," he replied as he walked forward his heavy black boots hitting against the floor roughly, his clock sweeping around him like a sea of blackness.

"So what brings you to my parts of town, Padre," asked Meredith as she led the man to the tabled nook of the trailer, "would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, un refresca?"

"Tea please," replied the priest as she reached for a tin can containing tea leaves, "oh, Twinings, haven't had that in a long time. Is it Earl Grey?"

"Yes, do you prefer sugar, cream?"

"Twist of lemon if you have any," replied the priest with a smile and a nod, "if not I'll take it plain."

"Unfortunately I have no lemons," replied Meredith.

"It is quite alright," replied the priest as he accepted the proffered cup of tea and took a sip, "as to why I'm here. Do you believe in God, Allah, Jehovah, Hashem or any other name the one may go by?"

"I'm not to religious," replied Meredith, "I haven't been to church since I was a little child, but I was raised Protestant."

"I wasn't asking if you were religious," said the priest, "I was asking if you believed in a god, any god. Because he believes in you and what…you can do."

"Padre," said Meredith as she eyed the door, "what do you mean?"

"It's a simple question Ms. Gordon," replied the priest as he took a sip from his tea, "do you believe there is something higher then us."

"Yes," replied Meredith as she flexed her fingers, "but I'm not sure I follow…"

"Do you accept that you are an abomination to the Lord?" asked the priest calmly, "an angel that has lost their way?"

"Leave now, Padre," she said as she stood up and opened the screen door.

The priest flicked his fingers and the door shut, Meredith was startled, "I accepted I was an abomination and now I strive to work for the Lord."

Meredith conjured a ball of fire in her hands and held it like she was going to throw it, "leave now, who ever you are."

"Do you wish to be saved Meredith?" the priest turned to her and put the cup down, "I offer salvation."

"I've warned you to leave, padre," Meredith threw the ball of fire at the priest singing his hood, "that was the last one. Leave now!"

"Now we can't have that," said the priest as he stood up held Meredith's hands forcing her to the ground as his hands turned blue and started to freeze her fingers and palms, "Do you accept the will of God?"

Meredith fought back calling forth the fire from with in. It started to burn off her clothing and the clothing of the priest it spread to the trailer as forces, fire and ice combated each other through will power. Meredith started to scream as she used all of will to live to fight this priest.

"Do you accept the will of God?" repeated the padre.

The light and screaming coming from the trailer vanished a minute later.

A/N: The idea for this story came to me today, and completely has interrupted my plans for my previous Heroes fanfic. I will try to continue both, but they are part of a story line, Emergence of Humanity is prior to Season 1 and The Corrupted is post Season 1. Any ideas you wish to express, please feel free to contact me through email message through fanfiction site.