The Road To Hell


f_arthur_icon.gif f_odessa_icon.gif f_peter_icon.gif

Scene Title The Road to Hell
Synopsis …is paved with good intentions.
Date May 6, 2019

Pinehearst Tower, Manhattan

"I'm trusting you to head up this team, only because I know that you're the right man for the job." Leaning back at his desk, Arthur Petrelli folds his hands across his lap, staring up at a broad-shouldered young man with a short buzz-cut and a severe look in his eyes. The young man's ramrod straight posture and the way he keeps his feet spread apart, hands folded behind his back, it's all telltale signs of his military career.

"I'm honored, Sir. I'm glad that my years of service to FRONTLINE have earned me this reputation." The mechanical response from the soldier elicits a slowly raised brow from Arthur, followed by a gentle nod as his fingers steeple.

"I want you to assemble a team of six others. You'll be working with… a specialist of mine on this." Arthur's eyes sweep across the soldier's broad shoulders, then wander up to his eyes, "I think you already have a few people in mind for this, yes?"

Nodding affirmatively, the soldier relaxes his posture some, "Yes, Sir, I do. Permission to request the identity of this specialist, Sir?" His gaze meets Arthur's, followed by a protracted silence and stillness from the older man. Then, before the words even come out, he can tell by the smile on Arthur's face what the answer will be.

"No, you may not, Lieutenant. But you'll meet her in due time." Her. It's just enough hinting and allusions to keep the soldier's attention fixed. "Now we're looking at a May 14th operations date, and I—" Arthur's words are interrupted by a series of unexpected events. Firstly, is the sound of his secretary's voice just beyond his office doors.

"Sir, I'm sorry he's in a meeting, you just can't—" Followed by both doors blowing clear off of their hinges as a hurricane-force wind smashes into them, sending documents and furniture flying. The soldier at the desk turns around, reaching for a sidearm tucked away inside the right side of his suit jacket, only to see the man he's ready to draw his weapon on is his employer's son.

"Mister Pet—" That's about as far as the young Lieutenant gets as Peter storms into the office, accompanied by a peal of thunder outside and a sudden eruption of torrential rain. When the first lightning flash snaps into view, striking down inside of Unity Park on one of the ruined skyscrapers, Peter throws out one hand, followed by a column of wind that rips the soldier off of his feet and sends him smashing through one of the plate glass windows of the office unceremoniously, over a hundred stories above street level.

"You're dead!" Peter howls, not to the soldier, but to his father. Static electricity crackles up and down one of Peter's arms as he stalks forward into the room, eyes focused on where Arthur sits behind the desk. "How could you do that!? I trusted you, I—You're a monster!"

"Peter," Arthur says with a calm voice, "Peter don't you take that tone of voice with me, son." Remaining seated, Arthur watches the wind swirling around his son, the rain coming surging in through the broken window, and towards the secretary running away over his son's shoulder. "Why don't you calm yourself down and we can talk about—"

Arthur didn't entirely expect Peter to run at the desk, planting one foot down on the desktop to climb over and grab him by the necktie and slam a fist into his face. The motion jerks Arthur's head back, sending him crashing down into the chair that threatens to topple back. "That's enough!" Arthur howls, flicking two fingers towards his son as he launches him off of his feet and into the ceiling, knocking out tiles before letting Peter crash through a glass-topped table to the floor below.

Blood runs from cuts across Peter's face as he climbs up to one knee, eyes narrowed and breath coming in panting exhalations as his shoulders rise and fall, eyes reddened from crying. "Why? WHY!?" The question is met with a scowl as Arthur comes to stand up straight, fixing his tie as he circles around the desk.

"Peter, I always thought you were the better of my two sons, the one who would be able to follow me down this path." Both hands adjust the lapels of his suit as he carries himself with crunching footfalls over broken glass to Peter. The moment his son opens his mouth to shout again, Arthur waves his hand dismissively at the younger man, lifting him up off of his feet again to smash into the half-wall of foot-thick glass, spider-webbing it with cracks as his back smashes into the slightly concave surface.

"You trusted me, Peter. You know all I've ever done has been for your own good, for the betterment of our family, for our future." There's a chastising click of Arthur's tongue as he keeps moving forward, watching Peter crash down to the floor, now noticing he's not healing from his injuries. "Peter, after all the people we've killed in the name of the greater good, why are you so bent out of shape about one more?" There's a narrowing of Arthur's eyes. "What's just a little more blood on your hands?"

Struggling to get up onto his hands, Peter stares past lowered and bloodied brows to Arthur, one eye closed as a stream of crimson runs down his face. "I'll—I'll kill you," he slurs out, arms shaking as he tries to get up to stand again. The answer is only met by a sigh and a shake of Arthur's head slowly.

"I thought you saw the big picture, son." Stopping at Peter's side, Arthur stares down at his boy before crouching next to him. Watching as Peter struggles to get up, wrapping fingers around Arthur's shirt collar, leaving long, bloody streaks in the white cloth.

"You're a monster, you—you're a horrible, terrible monster." The words are spit out with a few droplets of blood still clinging to Peter's lips, the rest sprayed across Arthur's cheek. The old man closes his eyes and shakes his head, resting one hand on the side of Peter's face with a squinted look of disappointment.

"After everything I've done for you Peter. After all the good we've done, you're going to let one very necessary sacrifice get between us?" A scowl begins to dawn on Arthur's face as he brushes his fingers across his son's cheek. "You truly disappo—"

"Go to hell." Those sputtered interjected words come with a bright white flash from Peter's palm, followed by a howling look of discomfort from Arthur as he lurches back and away from Peter, eyes wrenching shut as a ghostly silhouette of Hiro Nakamura is ripped from him and super-imposed over Peter, sending his father crashing back down onto the rubble of the table. "Go straight to hell."

"Peter!" Arthur shouts, holding up one hand to affix his son in place, but by the time he can focus his telekinesis on his progeny, Peter is gone in a sudden rush of air. Arthur's eyes go wide, mouth hanging open as he listens to the sound of the rain falling down outside, listens to the sound of thunder roaring in the distance. Not now, not when he was so close.

Just as Arthur's mind finally begins to settle, only a heartbeat after his son left, Peter re-emerges right where he was standing, clutching a bleeding wound on his stomach, mouth open and eyes wide in a manner almost mirroring his father's expression. There's a hiss of wet breath, followed by a sick squelching sound as Peter is kicked forward, slumping over onto the floor and then down onto his side as blood pools out around him.

Standing there, having been obscured by Peter's silhouette, is a short woman with platinum-blonde hair holding a blood-stained katana bearing half of a double-helix emblem on the hilt. Her lips pucker into an amused expression as she swings the sword with one hand, spraying a ling of blood onto the carpet before sheathing it at her side. "Arthur," the blonde states with a quirk of one brow, lips tucked up into an impish smile.

"Odessa," Arthur breathes out as a part of his deep sigh of relief. "Just in the nick of time…" he says with a crooked smile, crawling up to one knee before reaching over to press a hand to the top of Peter's head. There's a slow flash of white light as several echoes of energy are pulled from Peter's body into Arthur' like ghosts super-imposed over his own form.

Odessa circles around Peter, zippered boots crunching glass underfoot as her eyes swivel up from Peter to Arthur, "Is he dead?" It honestly doesn't sound like she cares much about his predicament, rolling her tongue over the inside of her cheek with one raised brow.

"My son's tougher than that," Arthur states, rising up to stand as he looks to Odessa. "Call the security team, have him brought to room 2112." Arthur's eyes narrow slightly, "And call miss Reid, tell her that Peter's gone and hurt himself again." A crooked smile falls on Arthur's face as he looks down to Odessa.

"Oh and…" Arthur's eyes track to the shattered window, "I think I have a job opening for you, Odessa dear."

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