Disclaimer: Insert witty 'I don't own Heroes' disclaimer here.
Summary: If a person would do that to his own son, what would he do to them?
"The bad guys are here."
Daphne quirked an eyebrow and stood there impassively. Her body wasn't racing, but her mind was. It was him, the grand pumpkin, Arthur Petrelli. The funny thing was; he didn't look so tough; she could run rings around him if she wanted too—literally! But there was just something about him, a feeling that she couldn't shake. It was an instinct which had served her well in the past.
If she tried to face him, she was sure she'd lose more than her life.
"That's what they call you, isn't it? Criminals, Villains."
Criminals? Villains?! Maybe the rest of them were – no, definitely the rest of them. She'd read Flint and Knox's files. She knew what they could do. They were bad people. She didn't know about the old guy though, but he too had this look about him that gave her the willies. And he was scared of Petrelli too. It was something to remember for a rainy day.
She wasn't like them; she would never be like them. She was a thief, but they were killers.
Suddenly the set of double doors burst open and Daphne spun around, backing away as a dark-haired man suddenly appeared from nowhere just inside the doors. Electricity sparked into life in the palms of his hands. A swift jab of fear surged into the pit of her stomach before she could repress it. It was him, of all the people who could have barged on through those doors and interrupted their meeting, it had to be him.
The others had backed away the moment those door had opened, each one preparing for a fight; all except for Petrelli.
"It's okay." Petrelli said. Daphne looked at him briefly before turning her attention back to the rough and ready to tumble man standing inside the doorway. Petrelli hadn't moved an inch; he didn't show any surprise, shock, no emotion at all at the sudden interruption. "It's my son."
Daphne looked back at Peter Petrelli and readied herself to dash away at the slightest indication that this confrontation was about to turn physical. She could handle herself, she could fight, but not against someone like Peter – never against someone like Peter. She was confident, she was born with confidence. But her confidence had never, ever caused her to underestimate anyone else.
"Dad?" Peter said. Now that was astonishment!
"Peter." Petrelli replied. He was the epitome of calm and self-assurance. His tone alone caused shivers to snake down Daphne's spine.
"How is this possible? You're dead!"
"It's a long story." Petrelli said. He appeared in the corner of Daphne's eye, walking past Knox, towards his hesitating son. Petrelli was much too confident for someone facing a guy like Peter. Why? What did Petrelli know?
"So you're behind all this?" Peter asked. The lightning in his hands hadn't disappeared. "You hurt Mom?"
"Like I say, we need to talk."
Daphne looked between both of them now. So close together. Father and Son. One seriously demented family reunion.
"Come give your father a hug." Petrelli said, spreading his arms wide and advancing slowly towards Peter. Daphne tilted her head slightly and twitched on the balls of her feet. All of her instincts told her to run, run and get as far away from the father and son as she could. But she couldn't run, and she couldn't hide, not from them.
She saw Peter hesitate and shake his head, lowering his hand as his father walked towards him.
"It's alright, Peter." Petrelli said reassuringly. "It's alright."
Daphne's mind screamed at her, telling her to run as fast as she could, but she was paralysed, her body rooted to that spot as the scene unfolded before her. Something was wrong; something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Peter's hand lowered and the electricity died. Petrelli took that final step forward and wrapped his arms around Peter.
"I'm sorry it had to come to this." Petrelli's faint whisper reached Daphne's ears.
A white, eerie glow suddenly emerged from Peter's mouth as he cried out in pain. Daphne jerked backwards, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening in horror. What was Petrelli doing?!
Peter's anguished screams filled her ears as the white, smoky glow faded away, and then suddenly Peter was on the ground, the connection with his father broken. Peter scrambled on his hands and knees, throwing out a hand to attack his father.
Nothing happened.
Horror and paralysing shock filled Daphne's body as she watched Peter vainly try to attack Petrelli. It wasn't working, why wasn't it working? Petrelli should be a human-shaped burnt potato chip, not standing there looking down at his son.
"You don't have your powers anymore, Peter." Petrelli raised his hand and a small ball of blue electricity appeared in his hand. He wiggled his fingers and the ball danced. "Because I have them now."
Daphne remained still, her mind still screaming at her to run, but her body still refusing to cooperate. Petrelli had stolen his son's abilities! He had taken from his own son the thing Daphne held most dear. The one thing she feared to lose more than anything in this world: her power.
Was this really worth the money? Was this opportunity really worth her speed? No, this was never about the money, this was never about the chance to be a part of something that would change the world for the better, or whatever that old geezer's sales pitch was. He had cast her lot in with these people, and not for the first time she questioned her decision. Murderers, she could put up with, even power-stealers! She'd keep her distance from both, but that wasn't the point, it didn't even come close!
If a person would do that to his own son, what would he do to them if they got in his way?