Progeny, Chapter 1
by Creedog VanDrey
Summery: Peter welcomes his new daughter into the world, and with it, a new series of adventures.
Spoilers: Vaguely Season 3. Most of the spoilers come from my other series "The World Entire."
A/N: This is the sequel (Volume Two) to "The World Entire." The plot points of that series aren't necessary to read this, but I'd recommend it, just to get fully immersed into this world. I'll do my best to recap in the narrative.
I'm telling you right now: Pay attention to dates. The World Entire took place inside of a month. This one will span 17 years and will feature flashbacks and flashforwards. I'll give you as much contextual information as I can. And we'll be settling into 2029 for the main plot.
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Chapter 1: The Lonely Neutron
In 1934, Italian physicist Enrico Fermi created the first nuclear reaction via neutron irradiation. He showed that when a tiny neutron collided with radioactive material, a sustained reaction would occur. This discovery would later become very important during World War II, when scientists with the Manhattan project would successfully put Fermi's discovery to work, producing bombs capable of destruction on scales never imagined before. Truly, the most minor event can set off a chain reaction that can write history.
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December 12, 2012
Peter gripped the fair-skinned hand of the woman beside him, lying back on the hospital bed, while, five feet away, an obstetrician coaxed out their daughter.
A screech echoed through the room. "Sounds like sound manipulation," Dr. Adrianna Fillman joked.
The baby was washed and given to Peter to hold. "Hey, little one," he cooed, "you're just a tiny thing."
He turned to hand the child to her mother when the baby began to glow.
"Luminescence?" the doctor suggested.
Peter, with a worried look, shook his head. He froze time, saying to the bundle, "You just had to be an A-bomb, didn't you?" The baby squirmed in his arms, and Peter grew more panicked, "Nope, you're a copycat just like your daddy. Well, let's get out of here." The waling baby screamed louder and glowed brighter. "Count of three," Peter noted, "One, two…"
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The hospital, and half a mile around it, was consumed by an atomic explosion.
VOLUME TWO: "PROGENY"
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Seven hours earlier…
The Oval Office
December 12, 2012
"Thank you, Marty," Nathan said to his chief of staff. "And the DOSHA funds?"
"Well-hidden. The Company is sufficiently funded, Mr. President."
"That will be all."
As Marty exited the room, Tracy Petrelli, the First Lady, entered through the side entrance. "Meeting time, Hun?"
"Yes, it is," Nathan replied, walking over to the bookcases, where he and Tracy sat in matching leather armchairs in front of four large monitors, which turned on, revealing four faces. In the first screen, labeled "HARTSDALE", was the blond Meredith Gordon; in the second, above "BARSTOW", the austere stare of Bess Detskij; in the third, above "ODESSA", the dark, bald Haitian; and the last, above "NEW ORLEANS", the round, brunette Amy Carlson.
"So, let's make this quick. Status report?"
Meredith began, "Stellar, Nathan." Tracy momentarily clenched her fists at Meredith's familiar tone, but quickly relaxed. "It's becoming increasingly difficult to cover the existence of Specials. The Antidote is wearing off and Naturals are re-emerging. No rhyme or reason to when and how, but we're very good at taking care of it."
"Very good. How's my brother doing by the way?"
"Both he and Claire are doing a marvelous job. I hope they're enjoying their day off." She grinned widely.
"We'll see," Nathan remarked with a knowing grin, "Bess?"
"Nothing more to report. It's all detailed in my write-up."
"Which I absolutely read," Nathan stated in an earnest tone. "And Mr. Bokor as we're calling you now."
"Your brother has predicted he will become a father today," the Haitian replied.
"It's going to be tight but I should be in Odessa to meet my new niece. It just depends on how it goes with the Japanese ambassador. Carlton?"
"We're understaffed. That doesn't bode well with the hiring freeze."
"I understand your concerns, Amy. I'll see what I can do."
"One other thing," Amy brought up.
"We had a preacher on the news last night. Nothing major, but he was denouncing Specials as 'freaks of nature.' You know, the typical stuff. When half the world was Specials, these guys were a dime a dozen, but now that we're losing the battle to keep things under wraps, it's not good to have a rallying figure."
"Well, most of them were baseless demagogues, and I can't imagine this guy is any different, but thanks for bringing it to my attention. I'll have my people look into it tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to explain to Congress why we need to spend billions of dollars to build giant ocean levees to prevent the Earth cracking in half…"
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Sixteen years later…
The Pacific Ocean
The Pacific Ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. But across the San Andreas Fault, on either side, was a large dam-like structure, acting like a levee stretching in both directions endlessly. Grey concrete jutted up fifteen feet above the sea's surface. A grand spring, the wire thick as a car, was attached every few miles, stretched across the glowing red chasm. Solar-powered pumps sprayed water across the metal spring, boiling on contact.
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Manhattan, New York
May 1, 2029
Matt Parkman would soon be celebrating his sixty-first birthday. His hair, immaculately combed, was a handsome dark gray. Creases lined his forehead and eyes. His brown eyes were alert and he sat up straight at his desk. He wore a navy blue pinstripe suit over a periwinkle dress shirt with a thin midnight blue tie, pinned down by a gleaming gold police badge-shaped pin. On his wrist was a silver watch, emblazoned with the "SYLAR" trademark, with a mess of gears spinning and ticking behind the black hands and date indicator dials; it was illuminated by an ambient blue light and displayed the time digitally semi-transparently against the crystal face.
Matt sat back at his glass-and-black-metal desk in front of his computer. A clear acrylic rectangle, bowed outward, functioned as his monitor and another piece of clear acrylic as his keyboard, backlit with a compact QWERTY keyboard. Matt tapped a few keys on the right edge of the keyboard. They clicked softly and sent a small electrical buzz into his finger. The keyboard morphed into a large-key, aligned-to-grid, alphabetically-arranged keyboard. Using only his index fingers, Matt typed in the name of his wife followed by his two-digit year of birth as alien glyphs appeared in the password box on his display. A home screen for Parkman Security appeared. Matt pressed his thumb into a fingerprint reader. Another password box popped up on screen. The keyboard switched to a numerical pad on which Matt typed in a seven-digit code. The company logo flipped over, revealing the Primatech Company logo. A line of widgets appeared across the bottom of the screen. Matt tapped the telephone logo. A U.S. map appeared, and four office building graphics appeared above four regions of the country. Matt tapped on the one hovering above New York, and a small org chart appeared with personnel photos. He tapped the top image, one of a graying Mohinder Suresh, with glasses and a salt-and-pepper beard. His personnel file appeared behind the graphic of a ringing phone.
"Matt?" Mohinder's voice emitted from the speakers.
"Hey, Mohinder, what's happening, buddy?"
"I'm researching the cognitive hyperdevelopment of the Blattaria order."
"And in English?"
"I'm trying to make cockroaches smart."
"That sounds futile."
"It is. The anti-cancer virus tests are going well, though."
"Good to hear. And our… side project?"
"Same old, same old. We tracked down four Specials this week. None of them needed extreme measures. What's it like at the top?"
"Not unlike my day job. A lot of sitting around. I don't have to talk to the press, though, so that's a plus."
"Well, Matt, I hate to cut you off, but I've got a class to prepare for."
"No, I let you go. I'm meeting Daphne for dinner anyway. Bye, Mohinder"
"Bye, my friend."
The screen announced the end of the call.
Matt tapped a button on his keyboard and stated, "Exit." All open programs exited and the screen blacked out before starting a slideshow of family photos with a slowly gliding dialog box stating "Streamlining…" over a progress bar.
Matt got up and exited the room. The lights faded and the thermostat switched to power save mode. A robotic floor vacuum started to scoot across the floor and the trash drove itself to the far corner of the room to deposit its contents in a chute.
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A/N: I would like to give my sincere thanks to heroesfan124 for beta-reading this series for me. It was long past time for me to have my work edited.
To all my readers, thank you for taking the time to return to this world. I hope you enjoy the ride.
Started 5/19/2009. Finished 7/18/2009.