Tyler and Peter have stage-side seats at a strip club. Or at least I assume that's what it is, going by the high-heeled feet that are all we can see of the woman in the foreground. "This was a good idea," Tyler tells Peter, who is no doubt unaware of the effect of puberty-hormones on Tyler's Jedi powers. Kid could probably make Peter invent and build a lightsaber for him right now. "Yeah, I was fifteen once, too, but I had to talk my way into places like this," Peter says modestly, cutting up the steak he's having for lunch and saying there are easier ways to get money than how Tyler went about it. When Tyler says they aren't as fun, Peter calls him on it: "Faking your kidnapping? Jacking your dad's company? Killing cops and innocent bystanders?" Yes, poor Massive Dynamic. Tyler makes excuses as something silky drops around the pair of female feet in front of them. While he's distracted by that, Peter tucks his steak knife into his sleeve and asks what Tyler's dad did to him anyway. "He lied to me my entire life," Tyler drama-queens. "He told me my mother was dead." Peter seems to take that seriously, if not question whether anything like that might have ever happened to him.
Back at Massive Dynamic, Carson is busy justifying said lie to Olivia. Apparently his ex was kind of a drug fiend, disappearing for weeks at a time until she never came back. "I just always assumed that she would end up dead of an overdose somewhere." Then he told Tyler that she died in a car accident. "So he wouldn't know that this mother abandoned him," Carson says. Well, on the bright side, he seems to still not know.
Back at the strip club, Tyler tells his side: he found his birth certificate a month ago, and looked into the mother's name, finding out she's a rehab counselor in Maryland. Peter asks what the next move is, and Tyler thinks they'll "be a family again." Presumably a family that excludes dad, whom he planned to bilk two million from. "Those cops you killed, they have families too," Peter points out. They got wives, they g--" Tyler cuts him off with a look, and presumably some headache glare-beams. The steak knife Peter hid is suddenly out in the open, and whether it's because Peter decided this was the time to make his move or because Tyler made him, it doesn't really matter. Peter struggles, but makes a fist around the handle, and finally plunges it into the empty seat next to him. "That would have been your leg if I didn't need you to drive," Tyler says. "Let's go." A fifteen-year-old voluntarily leaving a strip club? Clearly his overwhelming mind-control powers even work on himself.