2008-01-22: Last Chance


Angela_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: The requested files are delivered and Peter finds out exactly what will happen if he doesn't take this last chance to turn himself in.

Date It Happened: January 22nd, 2008

Last Chance

Manhattan Phone Booth + Level 5 + Peter's Apartment + Abandoned Warehouse

Standing out on the street, in a public phone booth, Peter's chosen not to teleport to another state this time— though he keeps his eye on the street, looking for any sign of suspicious activity as he dials his mother's cellphone number, using a pre-paid phone card at the same time. He did say he'd call the next day.

And Angela is prepared for the call. It's impossible to tell who's calling from this number, but she has a hunch. "Angela Petrelli," she answers. It's dark where she is, the light meagre, perhaps a basement.

"It's me," Peter says, staying in his phone booth as he looks down at his watch to make sure the time is good. His eyes move back out into the street, to keep an eye out for black vans and the like. With just those words, he still sounds stained, almost as if they need to be forced out.

No black vans, save for a luxury SUV carrying a few young twentysomethings dancing in their seats to music that they blare.

"Hello, Peter," Angela replies — though her voice belies the faintest hint of disapproval, it's otherwise cordial. "The documents you requested are at your apartment. Think of this as your last chance to turn yourself in."

"And what happens if I don't?" Peter asks softly, watching the SUV for a moment. Simple question. Could be included in the file, but maybe he wants to hear it from her mouth. His mother wants him to turn himself in. His brother wants him to turn himself in. She even said Elena did. If she could see him, she'd see the doubt in his eyes.

His mother's response is simple. "Then you'll make me regret giving you the choice." In her location, seeming much farther away than she truly is, Angela walks down the dark corridor, coming to stand in front of a strengthened glass window to look in on the cell of Elena Gomez.

"I haven't hurt anyone else," Peter says, though his mind flashes to Erin… to his brother. They were hurt, even if he tried to fix it— even if he stopped himself before he strangled his brother completely. There's a grimace. "If people would just…" He doesn't finish. He's not sure if his apartment will have people waiting for him or not— but he'll take the chance. "Bye, mom," he says, this time giving her a good bye and not just hanging up.

No one waits for Peter. No one lurks in the hallway, no one watches from across the street, there is no ambush laying in wait, despite the very poignant fact that right here, right now is the only moment the Company knows for sure where Peter will be. They could, very easily, have set up a trap.

But Angela was true to her word, this time: she's giving him one last chance. One last chance to turn himself in. Nothing is out of place in his apartment save for the addition of two documents set neatly upon the coffee table, one atop the other.

The phone is hung back up on the public phone booth, and Peter appears in his own apartment, holding his breath as he looks around. There's no ambush. No darts flying across the room. He walks to his coffee table and picks up the two files. Untrusting of the fact that they may not use the time he has to read them to take him in, he holds the files in his hand and teleports away again—

It's a warehouse. There's damage to the floor and the walls. It's the warehouse he found Gabriel in that night it all started. When he went to kill him. When he ended up helping him instead. Still abandoned. It's acted as a waiting spot for when he needed an indoor place and didn't want to pay for a hotel room. He settles down on the floor and begins to look through the files.

The first document is very simple. In fact, it only takes up the top of the page. It is as follows:

ISSUED 17/22/2008



Capture and contain. Better than kill, Peter imagines… He frowns at the marked out name, though, looking at it for a time, as if it might suddenly fill back in. His mother? Someone else within the Company? The first document is pushed aside for amother.

ISSUED 19/01/2008
UPDATED: 21/01/2008


  • For every day Peter Petrelli does not comply (beginning 23/01/2008): removal of one (1) memory holding significant emotional meaning to the relationship of Petrelli and Gomez per day. Agent assigned: -


There's a long time when Peter just looks at the file. Probably seems a lot longer than it actually is. After a slow breath he gathers up the two simple files and teleports back to his apartment, putting them back down on the coffee table and going to find his phone. It's been unused for quite some time, but he turns it back on and dials a number. His mother's cellphone again. No point in hiding. The decision has been made for him.

"Peter," Angela's voice comes on the line almost instantly. She hasn't gone far, since Peter last spoke to her; while he's been transporting himself from place to place, her surroundings are still dark, ominous. "I take it you've made your decision."

There's a bew stain on his voice, Peter closes his eyes as he sits down with his phone. "What time does the order start? Midnight? Noon? When do I have to turn myself in?" The time is important— it said the 23rd. That's Nathan's birthday… But it doesn't look like he'll get to celebrate it. "I need a few hours— I need to take care of a few things first."

"You're making the right decision, Peter," Angela, sounding very much like she believes her own words, attempts to assure her son — the son that, yes, she seems to have ordered be killed in more ways than one but, you know, no one is perfect. "The order begins at noon tomorrow. I can send a car."

"No, I don't need a car. Just tell me where to be at … an hour before noon tomorrow and I'll be there," Peter says, voice tightened with force. "I said I need time to finish things, and we both know I don't need a car."

"There's a parking garage that leads to Yamagato Industries," Angela answers. Her voice, now, is kept curt. Business-like. "Someone will meet you there." What every son needs from their mother: an ominous arrangement to meet in unfamiliar underground parking.

"You didn't exactly give me much of a choice, you know," Peter says, grimacing as the tension turns into anger for a moment. "Call off your hounds— give me tonight and tomorrow to move around without worrying about someone tranqing me and taking me in." Though he knows he'll probably be cautious anyway, to protect his friends, but being able to move without glancing over his shoulder would be nice to. "And I'll be there."

"I can't promise that no one will be watching," says Angela. "I can't promise that they won't try to take action if you lose control of yourself, but I'm trusting you, Peter, to keep your word. You won't see the walls of the Company until tomorrow at noon."

"Good," is all that Peter says in response before he hangs up the phone. It's shoved in his pocket. He doesn't need to leave it here anymore. His wallet is dug up, with his credit cards and other things he didn't dare carry or use, and he heads out the door. He has a short time to do everything that he need sto do now. A very short time.

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