First, this story is completely xXxAstrumxXx's fault, for putting the phrase 'Nathan goes all "CAPTURE THEM ALL!"' into a summary and into my head. Sorry for blaming you, writer who I do not know.
Second, I do not own Heroes, true- but I also don't own certain video game franchises. Take that as you will.
"Aw, sh-"
"Don't curse, dear. Cursing doesn't look like a good trait when you're running a campaign."
Nathan Petrelli rolls his eyes, but carefully waits until they're back in the proper position before turning back to look at his mother. "Ma. You gave me Pete's bag."
"Did I?"
For an answer, he fishes the first thing he can find out of his brother's black school bag. It's a handheld video game. Yeah- definitely something that a pilot new to the Navy brings to his first tour of duty.
"Oh." Angela gazes at the clunky yellow object, and crinkles her nose. "Well, I suppose it's a bit late to be getting your bag back."
Nathan glances out of the window, out at the clouds the airplane's slicing through. "I'd say so."
"Don't worry, dear." She smiles, patting his arm and probably envisioning the Great Future where he'll be in an influential position in the government. "We'll ship your belongings to you."
He glances out of the window again, thinks. It would be interesting to fly without a plane.
-o-
"Peter, for the last time, I'm not going to mess with your game." Nathan sighs heavily, checks his watch yet again. "Come on, bro, can I talk to Ma again before my time's up?"
"Fine," Peter says darkly, still sulking like he's a preteen, rather than approaching twenty. "Though I don't see why you can't ship it back."
"Shipping costs more out here," Nathan says for what feels like the hundredth time. "Pete. I love you. Now give the phone to Mom already."
The line disconnects, his time up, before Peter can reply. Nathan curses under his breath as he jams it back into place, then skulks back into his barracks. He still has thirty minutes of free time, and nothing in particular to do with it. He's not exactly feeling kind towards his brother at the moment. So he drags his brothers' bag out of his locker, takes the Gameboy out from the top, and flips on the power switch. It'll probably be boring. Too bad.
-o-
"Nathan."
Huh. Someone's talking in the background. That's not nearly as important as the battle taking place onscreen.
"Nathan, stop playing with your stupid Pokemon! The light's keeping me awake."
Oh. His bunkmate is whining again. Nathan pulls the sheets over his head without a word, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. Articuno is ridiculously hard to nab.
-o-
"Well, well- look's like my son is back from the wars." Arthur Petrelli pulls Nathan into a giant man-hug, laughing in that booming way that Nathan learned in law school is definitely fake. "How've you been, son? Got any battle scars?"
"Nope, not really." He grins back, teeth flashing white- a politician's grin. "Flying a plane doesn't much put you in the way of danger. But it's great to be back. I'm looking forward to starting some serious work."
His parents beam at him, obviously pleased, and that's enough. They don't need to know that he's pretty much parroting their own words back at them. In the background, his younger brother (who has already said his welcomes and everything) has finally located his own bag, and is rummaging through the contents.
"Finally," Peter grumbles, pulling out what looks suspiciously close to a comic book (Nathan wouldn't know for sure, he never looked too closely in there). Then he fishes around for a few more seconds, and glares up at his brother. "Nathan, did you-"
"Nope."
He's carefully not looking at his carry-on bag. Peter doesn't need to know that he restarted his game so he could play it through properly. He'll get him a new copy for his birthday, anyway. He's heard that a new version is out.
-o-
"I must admit, Senator Petrelli; I'm a little bit confused." The President of the United States stares at Nathan evenly, the paper explaining the details of the project lying flat on his desk. "Certainly this is an issue that needs to be looked into at once, but you seem particularly… obsessed with it. Would you mind explaining to me exactly what your motivations are? Besides keeping your family protected."
"It's simple, Mr. President." Nathan fidgets with the cuff of his shirt, and when he looks up, there's fire in his eyes.
"I have to catch'em all."