As fans well know, the heroes of Heroes all have engaging backstories, and the show itself is no exception. Tim Kring was a mild-mannered TV producer (Crossing Jordan, Providence) who two years ago found himself itching to make one of those newfangled serialized saga things. Struck by the number of superheroes popping up on the movie screens during these catastrophe-shaken times, the comic-book ignoramus wondered: Why? And then: Why not on TV? Ditching the stuff he didn't get (costumes and code names) and embracing the stuff that he did (mythic archetypes, epic storytelling, gonzo twists), Kring concocted Heroes and sold it to NBC. He cast some hungry character actors and assembled a brain trust of cult-pop scribes, veterans of Alias, Smallville, and Wonderfalls. Boosted by some extremely clever marketing (''Save the Cheerleader. Save the World.''), Heroes joined Ugly Betty as one of the season's few breakout hits. Along the way, it stared down 24 in a hotly contested Monday-night ratings battle and proved that there are some adversaries Jack Bauer can't pistol-whip into submission. The show's secret lay in finding that ever-elusive sweet spot between fanboy-friendly and widely accessible, while quickly answering mysteries and clarifying mythology before anyone got antsy enough to ask the dreaded question: Does this show really know what it's doing? Most of the time, the answer is yes, and most of the time, it has worked — but not always.
Take the unplugging of Hiro, for example. Midway through the season, the writers stripped the quantum crusader of his truly showstopping abilities and sent him and his friend Ando (James Kyson Lee) on a series of comic misadventures in pursuit of an ancient samurai sword. The idea was to present a mettle-testing challenge for a near-omnipotent being and, sure, save some dough on special effects. But it also took the fun out of Heroes' most endearing hero. Oka believes the show needed to ''buy some time'' before prepping his character for the endgame. ''Even me, as a fan, was like, 'Oh, come on! Get on with it!''' he says. ''Hiro is a major source of comic relief, but a lot of that humor came from this enthusiasm he had for his powers. When you took that away, some of the comedy became more of the traditional sitcom variety. It was good for Hiro to lose his powers and deal with that, but it's also good to have them back now.''
But the story line that elicited the most grumbles early on belonged to Niki/Jessica. The structure of Heroes' first season — a litter of disparate characters, each on their own journey, gradually coming together en masse to save the day — was bound to have a runty arc or two. Too often, the dual character's angst and imploding domestic situation with husband D.L. and ''I can fix anything!'' son Micah (Noah Gray-Cabey) seemed irrelevant to the show's core. Roberts says he sensed the audience's frustration: ''It felt like they were going to vote us off, too.'' Larter believes that Niki/Jessica have begun to meld into a single persona: ''We're in a groove. I've had more of a complicated, cerebral story line. Now, I'm going to get to do some fun stuff.''
NEXT PAGE: ''One thing we're going to try to improve upon next season is the air pattern,'' says NBC Entertainment president Kevin Reilly. ''We have a big idea.''
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