We’re Your Heroes Now!
Never say Coyote and I never did anything for you.
It appears that, before the writer’s strike began, the beginning of another episode of Heroes was being written. Unfortunately, it ends only a fraction of the way into the script. But since we figure something is better than nothing, our “contacts” at NBC have agreed to allow us to share with you what should have been the next episode of Heroes.
(EDIT: If you missed the season finale, or even if you didn’t, check out Coyote’s recap).
Without further ado, I present: “Heroes, Chapter 3, Episode 1: EPIC FAIL”
Mohinder: (voice over) In every generation there is a chosen one, she who…wait, no…in time, everything grows, and changes. People become, transform, get shot multiple times with a cop standing right beside them. This is mutation, evolution. Unless you live in Kansas. Or Texas. Unless it’s Odessa. Shit.
(shot of Mohinder holding Molly close and looking at Maya)
Mohinder: So…a/s/l? And do you know who Chris Hansen is?
Molly: Matt’s not gonna be happy if he finds out you’re hitting on other people.
Mohinder: Well, he was off having his exciting gay flying times with Nathan Petrelli. I’m allowed to flirt a little.
Maya: *is basically useless* I miss my bro-thar!
Mohinder: Let me guess, you’ve just figured out you went on an extended road trip with a psychopath who killed a member of your immediate family? You have that look about you.
Maya: Yes! I feel so stoopeed!
Mohinder: don’t worry. I’m supposed to be smart and I didn’t get it.
Maya: He killed my brother!
Mohinder: He killed my father!
Molly: He killed both of my parents and ATE THEIR GODDAMNED BRAINS! Now who’s the fucking pity queen, huh?
Mohinder: Language, Molly! We talked about this.
Molly: I’m sorry your ex is a brain eating psychopath.
Maya: He broke up with me?!
Molly: *gesturing at Mohinder* I meant him.
Mohinder: Molly, one more gay joke from you…
Maya: You’re gaa-ay?
Mohinder: Well, let me put it this way, when a woman with the power of imperative command looks at you and says “You will never want another woman after me?” She means it.
*cut to Matt and Nathan flying*
Nathan: Are you comfortable?
Matt: Actually, I think your belt is hooked into the button on the front of my pants. If I can just shift my weight a little…
Nathan: …oh…um…you might not want to do that too much. It’s distracting.
Matt: Please, Nathan. Mohinder has been traveling on business. I need this.
Nathan: Matt, you’re a nice guy, but I just don’t feel that way about you. I mean, I like you a a friend, but I don’t LIKE YOU like you.
Matt: I’m a fucking teddy bear, Nathan. Who doesn’t LIKE ME like me? Except my wife… *Matt starts to cry*
Nathan: Matt, come on, please…look, I know how rough it is when you lose your wife and…*sigh* Just…just don’t tell Peter, okay?
Matt: What are you talking about? It’s not like you have a wife. Or a kid on the way.
Nathan: No, but I think I used to have a wife and kids. Or something. They weren’t important to the plot, apparently. Not like my brother…
Matt: We’re having a moment and you bring up your brother? Ok, now it’s awkward.
Nathan: We Petrelli’s have a saying: if you can’t keep it in your pants, at least keep it in the family.
Matt: Suddenly this isn’t fun any more. How about we land. No more uppies.
Nathan: Fine. If you have an issue with incest it’s no skin off my ass.
Hiro: FRYING MAN o/
Matt: *pull his gun and starts zooming around, possibly singing the theme to Secret Agent Man* Ted? Where?!
Hiro: HEY! You bad future man.
Hiro: You were dead at the time.
Matt: Hey, where did your accent go just now?
Hiro: ME SO SOLLY! NEKO-NEKO ANIME SAMURAI ETC.!
Matt: Nathan, you have some strange friends. And that’s coming from a guy who was trapped in a box inside of his adopted daughter’s head.
Nathan: Hey, don’t blame me for this. He’s just a waffle loving time traveler who for some reason carries a samurai sword.
Matt: Oh, ok. I’m not going to question that at all. Now that I’m done riding you like a carousel horse can we get on with the whole saving the world thing? Again.
Nathan: Yeah, sure, let’s go. My goal this time is to not get blown up.
Matt: Then let’s do this. Wonder Twins activate!
*cut to inside of vault with Peter, Matt and Nathan*
Peter: *cupping his hands around the virus vial* And that’s the end of that.
Matt: The world is saved! I can go back to be a house-husband! Or a cop. I keep forgetting. When was the last time I showed up for work?
Nathan: And there are no loose ends to tie up.
Matt, Nathan and Peter: None at all.
Peter: Wait, what about Caitlin? I mean, if that future isn’t real anymore then where and when is she?
Nathan: *slaps Peter across the face* Don’t talk back to your older brother. NO LOOSE ENDS! We’re happy now.
Peter: Oh, ok.
Nathan: *sniffs the air* Smell that?
Nathan: That’s the smell of good publicity.
*cut to Adam in a small box*
Adam: Well, shit. *thinks for a long time* I suppose I could pull a large bone from my arm and use that to chisel and dig my way out. Though it does sound painful. *thinks for a long time* Or I could just lay here. Maybe I’ll give the whole buried thing a couple of years and see how I feel about it then. *thinks for a long time* It’s kind of nice down here. Quiet. *starts to whistle* Though I could go for a little snack. Oh god. NOOOOOOO!!!!!
*cut to Angela Petrelli watching the news broadcast of her son being shot* Angela: *on cell phone* Yes. I saw. No, it’s been a season. I have to try and kill one of them, right? I don’t know, after that beard I can’t look at him the same way again. Yes, I know, it was like a dead raccoon was stapled to his face! What? Of course I don’t think these machinations will come back to bite me on the ass next season. I couldn’t possibly picture a situation in which my welfare depended on that of my children. That’s silly. Besides, if this writer’s strike continues, there is no next season. And I will be triumphant! MWA-HA-HA-HA!
*cut to junky Sylar in a back alley* *zoom into his veins to show the tiny virus at work*
Virus: We R in ur veinz, taking your powerz!
Sylar: Do Not Want!*Sylar stabs the blood sample into his arm*Fresh blood. Just like mama used to make. Before I stabbed her with a pair of scissors. Ah, good times.
END OF TRANSCRIPT
It’s been suggested the writers, knowing they were going to strike, didn’t put as much time and effort into this script as they could have. I however choose to believe it all would have come together neatly in the end.