2010-02-11: Winner Takes All (Phantasm)



Posting Date: February 11, 2010


Winning isn't everything; it's the ONLY thing.

"Winner Takes All"

Nathan's Office — NYC

The office is beginning to clear out as Senator Nathan Petrelli stands to his feet. "Good work people! Now, find a way to deliver the solution into the atmosphere. I'm sure we can get it approved considering —" he points out the window with a frown to the burning United States. When the last of his staff leaves the room, he pads over to his desk and extracts his scotch decanter and one of his tumblers. He pours himself a glass and then turns his chair to face the window. "Here's to you, Nathan Petrelli," he sneers at his reflection. "How does it feel to be trapped in the glass?"

His reflection isn't sneering back, in fact, it looks shockingly defeated. Desolate, empty perhaps. It lacks lustre.

The solution.

The door remained open slightly after the last of the staff stepped outside, leaving the Senator and his reflection alone in the office. Or perhaps, not as alone as they might think, when the door pushes itself closed, and a figure appears there. Peter looks less like the paramedic that he'd been before, and more like the man he became in a future thought destroyed. The main difference being the lack of scar deeply dug across his face. "Don't bother screaming for your security staff. They won't hear you," he says thickly, voice deeper than it should be. "You're involved in this. You're allowing this to happen?" he gestures toward the window.

"Why would I call security, Pete?" Logan asks as he stares out at the dark and desolate city with its many explosions. His lips twitch, but he's looking at the window, his tell won't show. Not in the reflection that is virtually banging on the glass, yet no sound comes out — it's akin to Alice and the Looking Glass. Finally, Logan turns to face Peter. "So why are you here? You can't stop this, Pete. Some things are destined to happen — no matter what version of the future you buy into, it all ends in war, anyways, doesn't it, Peter? This, is destiny." His lips curl into a smug kind of smile. He should be afraid; he should be terrified, but he seems eerily cocky and calm.

"Maybe you're right, but it depends which side wins, doesn't it?" Peter asks, then twists his hand around. The city burns in the background, and suddenly the scotch decanter is flying through the air, propelled by invisible force, toward the head of the man in the room, ignoring the reflection banging on the glass. From the look on his own face, the younger brother doesn't seem to care anymore. The brightness in his eyes seems to have gone out.

Fortunately for Logan, he manages to duck away from the flying decanter, so it hits the glass instead, shattering into a million little pieces and putting a heavy dent in the window and its reflection. "Does it matter which side wins?" he asks idly. Logan has been evil — Nathan's ambition, goals, and everything rolled into one. Now he's just plain sociopathic, "Regardless, the world burns." His lips grin grimly, "And kill me or not, you can't stop this, Pete. It's so much bigger than even you." He flings his now empty scotch glass towards his brother, who he's sure can stop it.

Another flick of the wrist stops the empty scotch glass, but doesn't shove it away against a wall only to break. Peter's eyes narrow at his brother. "It does matter which side wins. It always matters. Because the winner controls the way people remember what happened, the winner controls the outcome of events. I can stop this— because it hasn't happened yet."

It sounds crazy, or it would, if his abilities weren't well known. The glass flies toward the man, but actually aiming for the mirror, instead. He doesn't want Nathan to see him like this.

"I am going to kill you."

Nathan's eyes tear from his place in the mirror before it too shatters. Any trace of Nathan that was left in this room is gone; any trace of goodness that might have bended Logan's ear is gone. Logan is at the helm. With a grim smile, he shakes his head, "You can't change the course of these events. If we win or if they win doesn't matter anymore. Look outside. It's happened." The war is real. And that's all Logan cares about anymore. "It's not about power, Peter. It's way more important than that." He reaches for his unusually sharp letter opener under his desk before he literally flies over the desk towards Peter, aiming to take him down, even if it's a futile task.

"You're right, it's not about power— it's about life. It's about surviving. And that?" Peter points at the window. The nearly broken window. "That hasn't happened yet. And I won't let it happen." But right here, right now, it has happened. And there's nothing he can do about that. Not yet. "I'll help them. I'll bring them together and I'll make sure that they're strong enough to keep that from happening."

But what he's going to do right now…

You have to make sacrifices for the greater good.

The shattered pieces of the mirror begin to lift up into the air.

"Survival?" Logan virtually spits. "You're worried about survival? Survival of who? Survival of what — the next stage of evolutionary change?" He mocks his brother. He knows there really isn't any hope for him here. But that doesn't mean he won't deal his own damage. "What are you even fighting for Peter? Do you know?" His lips transform into a wicked smile, "I'm actually proud for once. For the first time ever you're one of us. A real Petrelli." Even if it means his own death. He continues to smile wickedly as he glances at the glass shards, there's no where to run. What's the point? Anything he could do to stop Peter will only be counteracted. No, this is inevitable, and with his still, grinning face, he speaks candidly. "You killed deSouza. You killed Hiro. You're becoming as cut throat as well… me. Not even Nathan could get there. But you, Peter. You deserve a round of applause."

"Then clap," Peter says, dryly. Just like when he strangled Hiro to death, the emotion seems to be gone from his voice. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it should. There have to be sacrifices for the greater good. For survival of those he cares about. And the sacrifice he's decided to make… happens to be himself.

The mirror slivers twist around in air, casting light reflections on the wall. And then they go flying, toward him, seeking vital areas.

And sure enough, Logan claps until the shards hit, sending him staggeringly to the floor in extreme pain. The glass moves at extreme force, penetrating his skin, his heart, drawing blood from his major organs and spilling it over the hard concrete underneath his dying body.

Yet Logan's dying face still has the wicked grin.

In his mind, he's won.

Once the life drains from those happy eyes, the body lifts up from the concrete and slams into the window with spectacular force. The glass shatters against the weight and the force, throwing the body out to the burning city below.

Peter takes to the sky, flying through the now broken window, fast, and then even faster, a boom resounding in the air. He never even stopped to look where the body fell.

The winner of the war does matter after all.

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