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linden_jaySo, I've mentioned once or twice that Ash and I have been puttering away on a Heroes/Firefly alternate reality 'verse (and when I say puttering, I mean, well... there's a reason why Ash keeps calling us the wordy bitches). This is just a hint of what we've gotten to give a taste of where we're going.
VOLUME 1: SERENITY
In the black: the abandoned wreckage of an Alliance cargo vessel
Being able to fly wasn't really all that great.
Sure, Nathan Petrelli would get lots of comments from other metahumans about his ability. ("You can fly? Shiny!" or "If I could fly, I wouldn't walk anywhere, I can tell you that!") But when it came right down to it, when you've spent the last six years living in tin boats out in the black, gravity-defying sort of lost its appeal.
On one hand, though, flying was why Nathan was alive. On the other hand, that ability had manifested at a time when he had seen too much death--when, for a moment, one desperate and awful moment, he might have wanted to count himself among those dead. If Nathan had a third hand, which he was glad he didn't because extra limbs were tough to hide, he would grudgingly admit that in the world, being able to fly fast enough to break the sound barrier did occasionally have its uses.
But it always came back to this: as captain of the Firefly-class transport Serenity, his ability left a lot to be desired. What was the point in being able to defy gravity when there was no gravity to defy? When his first mate--Niki Sanders--could rip people in half, and his pilot--Niki's husband, Isaac Mendez--was a precog, and...
Nathan glanced at Sylar. Man wasn't the same as when he came aboard almost three years ago. Nevermind what he could do; that scared Nathan enough (not that he ever showed it), but Sylar himself was different. Nathan always felt, now, that the young man once known as Gabriel Gray, son of a fellow who'd made a living creating weapons, was a ticking time-bomb. He just needed a reason, that one last nudge.
Bad enough to worry Nathan. But Sylar made Hiro nervous. When something made Serenity's perpetually-optimistic mechanic antsy, Nathan became downright twitchy. The last thing--well, one of many last things--Nathan wanted was for something to happen to the son of Kaito Nakamura. He still sometimes wondered how and why the man who ran Yamagoto Industries had actually allowed his kid to run around with the crew of a ship like Nathan's. They certainly didn't keep out of trouble--but Nathan wasn't complaining. Little Hiro was the best mechanic floating.
That same mechanic hurried down the stairs to the cargo bay to help Nathan, Sylar, and Niki finish suiting up. "Isaac says we're a go, Captain," Hiro said. "As soon as you're ready. There's no sign of Alliance presence in the sector."
"Look at that, Nate," Sylar said, with an unpleasant little smirk, "one of your plans is going right for a change, only--now wait a minute--" The smirk grew a bit. "It's not your plan. It's Linderman's."
"I don't need your running commentary," Nathan said. Then, to Hiro: "Get yourself back up there. When it comes to the Alliance, situation's always bound to change in an instant. Make sure Isaac keeps his eye out. We need the pay from this job or we're all going to start getting awfully thin. There's only so long we can depend on Mohinder to be generous enough to provide us with food."
Hiro nodded and made his way back up the stairs. Nathan knew he'd watch from the catwalk above for them to leave Serenity; he always did.
Nathan looked to Niki and Sylar. "Let's do some crime, shall we?"
Crime. Not exactly the way his life was supposed to be. Not the way he'd imagined things when he left Osiris twelve years ago to fight in a war--a rebellion, really. He'd believed back then. He'd believed that the 'verse could be changed by believing hard enough. He'd been wrong; for the second time in his life, he'd been wrong about something.
Metahumans were still considered freaks. The Alliance-controlled Organisation (which didn't officially exist, but Nathan and his crew and people like them knew better) could still do whatever they pleased. Everyone else--everyone else normal--turned a blind eye, while people with abilities and even people who just had the genetic marker that said they might have abilities, like Hiro, lived by looking over their shoulder. Nobody could know; one mistake, one moment of showing an ability, and they could find themselves being hauled away by Agents. They didn't catch everybody, and some people they left alone. It seemed to depend on just how "special" they deemed you, on just how remarkable an ability was. Nathan; not remarkable. Sylar or Niki or Isaac; more than remarkable. They were his crew, and they were his to protect. Hiro, for now, could at least flash his identicard and perhaps get away, just based on lineage.
The name "Petrelli" should have been enough for Nathan, but he hadn't been home since the war ended six years ago. They'd lost, and suddenly, he couldn't access his accounts anymore. He'd managed to slip a little at a time into a separate account, but it wasn't enough. He imagined as far as his mother was concerned, he was dead, or good as. There'd been letters from home, for a while, and he'd written to Peter nearly every day. Someone hadn't wanted him contacting his family after that first year he'd been away.
"The hull's still intact," Niki reported. Her voice made Nathan start. "Goods should still be inside. We're good to go, Captain."
"Then let's do it and get out of here," Nathan replied. "We don't need to give Linderman any reason to doubt us."
... to be continued ...
VOLUME 1: SERENITY
In the black: the abandoned wreckage of an Alliance cargo vessel
Being able to fly wasn't really all that great.
Sure, Nathan Petrelli would get lots of comments from other metahumans about his ability. ("You can fly? Shiny!" or "If I could fly, I wouldn't walk anywhere, I can tell you that!") But when it came right down to it, when you've spent the last six years living in tin boats out in the black, gravity-defying sort of lost its appeal.
On one hand, though, flying was why Nathan was alive. On the other hand, that ability had manifested at a time when he had seen too much death--when, for a moment, one desperate and awful moment, he might have wanted to count himself among those dead. If Nathan had a third hand, which he was glad he didn't because extra limbs were tough to hide, he would grudgingly admit that in the world, being able to fly fast enough to break the sound barrier did occasionally have its uses.
But it always came back to this: as captain of the Firefly-class transport Serenity, his ability left a lot to be desired. What was the point in being able to defy gravity when there was no gravity to defy? When his first mate--Niki Sanders--could rip people in half, and his pilot--Niki's husband, Isaac Mendez--was a precog, and...
Nathan glanced at Sylar. Man wasn't the same as when he came aboard almost three years ago. Nevermind what he could do; that scared Nathan enough (not that he ever showed it), but Sylar himself was different. Nathan always felt, now, that the young man once known as Gabriel Gray, son of a fellow who'd made a living creating weapons, was a ticking time-bomb. He just needed a reason, that one last nudge.
Bad enough to worry Nathan. But Sylar made Hiro nervous. When something made Serenity's perpetually-optimistic mechanic antsy, Nathan became downright twitchy. The last thing--well, one of many last things--Nathan wanted was for something to happen to the son of Kaito Nakamura. He still sometimes wondered how and why the man who ran Yamagoto Industries had actually allowed his kid to run around with the crew of a ship like Nathan's. They certainly didn't keep out of trouble--but Nathan wasn't complaining. Little Hiro was the best mechanic floating.
That same mechanic hurried down the stairs to the cargo bay to help Nathan, Sylar, and Niki finish suiting up. "Isaac says we're a go, Captain," Hiro said. "As soon as you're ready. There's no sign of Alliance presence in the sector."
"Look at that, Nate," Sylar said, with an unpleasant little smirk, "one of your plans is going right for a change, only--now wait a minute--" The smirk grew a bit. "It's not your plan. It's Linderman's."
"I don't need your running commentary," Nathan said. Then, to Hiro: "Get yourself back up there. When it comes to the Alliance, situation's always bound to change in an instant. Make sure Isaac keeps his eye out. We need the pay from this job or we're all going to start getting awfully thin. There's only so long we can depend on Mohinder to be generous enough to provide us with food."
Hiro nodded and made his way back up the stairs. Nathan knew he'd watch from the catwalk above for them to leave Serenity; he always did.
Nathan looked to Niki and Sylar. "Let's do some crime, shall we?"
Crime. Not exactly the way his life was supposed to be. Not the way he'd imagined things when he left Osiris twelve years ago to fight in a war--a rebellion, really. He'd believed back then. He'd believed that the 'verse could be changed by believing hard enough. He'd been wrong; for the second time in his life, he'd been wrong about something.
Metahumans were still considered freaks. The Alliance-controlled Organisation (which didn't officially exist, but Nathan and his crew and people like them knew better) could still do whatever they pleased. Everyone else--everyone else normal--turned a blind eye, while people with abilities and even people who just had the genetic marker that said they might have abilities, like Hiro, lived by looking over their shoulder. Nobody could know; one mistake, one moment of showing an ability, and they could find themselves being hauled away by Agents. They didn't catch everybody, and some people they left alone. It seemed to depend on just how "special" they deemed you, on just how remarkable an ability was. Nathan; not remarkable. Sylar or Niki or Isaac; more than remarkable. They were his crew, and they were his to protect. Hiro, for now, could at least flash his identicard and perhaps get away, just based on lineage.
The name "Petrelli" should have been enough for Nathan, but he hadn't been home since the war ended six years ago. They'd lost, and suddenly, he couldn't access his accounts anymore. He'd managed to slip a little at a time into a separate account, but it wasn't enough. He imagined as far as his mother was concerned, he was dead, or good as. There'd been letters from home, for a while, and he'd written to Peter nearly every day. Someone hadn't wanted him contacting his family after that first year he'd been away.
"The hull's still intact," Niki reported. Her voice made Nathan start. "Goods should still be inside. We're good to go, Captain."
"Then let's do it and get out of here," Nathan replied. "We don't need to give Linderman any reason to doubt us."
... to be continued ...
