cat_icon.gif gillian_icon.gif helena_icon.gif peter2_icon.gif

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Scene Title Accelerant
Synopsis Cat + Helena + Amnesiac Peter + Gillian = Almost Boom. No boom today. Maybe boom tomorrow.
Date October 10, 2008 (Around 2 AM)

Dorchester Towers

Dorchester Towers is a huge white building surrounded by a carefully landscaped stretch of gardens. The spacious lobby almost has more window than wall, white and green marble floor tiles gleaming in the light; it is occupied by doormen and a concierge to assist renters and guests. Nine high-speed elevators provide convenient access to upper stories; every floor has its own laundry room. Closed-circuit TV monitors the lobby and grounds, and every apartment has a security system, double-bolt door locks, and even window locks. The complex has its own garage, a bicycle room, and a sun deck.

It's late enough at night that it makes for odd visiting hours. The black sedan out front of Dorchester Towers is driven into the parking garage by the valet, leaving its two former occupants to ascend the stone steps up to the front doors of the lobby. "Good evening, Sirs." The doorman feigns a smile as he pulls one side of the double doors open, allowing two men in black suits to enter. The lobby is quiet at this time of evening, one receptionist behind the desk observing the exterior security cameras, another at the far end of the lobby by the penthouse elevator.

"You sure it's right t'be batterin' down a Fed's door at too-late-o-clock in the bloody evenin'?" The sharply dressed and lacksidaisy Agent Woods seems ill-convinced of the need for a trip here at this time of night. "Can't this honestly wait till mornin'? This is about the spilled coffee, ain't it?"

Agent Woods' partner turns to give the blonde Brit a withering stare, then shakes his head. "Agent Parkman knows more about these escapees than I do, and with Bob unable or unwilling to call the shots I want to talk to him directly about getting some assistance from Homeland Security on tracking down Munroe. If he was able to elude all of our agents that easily, there's got to be something about the way we're going at this that just isn't working." Peter strides alongside woods into the lobby, looking as determined as he is frustrated and tired.

Frustration with no outlet led Helena to call Cat, and the woman obliged by inviting her to a performance at the Surley Wench. And after the performance, and the trip to an all night diner for food, it's in the wee hours that they finally make their way to the somewhat posh Towers. Helena has the pleased, shiny-sweaty look of someone who's long held back from a release, as ever the jacket she was gifted with several sizes too big. With face done up, Madame Alexander doll meets Eponine from Les Miz is not a bad description. She leans on Cat's arm, singing in a voice too pretty to suit the growly song, "An I dont give a damn bout my reputation, never said I wanted to improve my station…"

She's in her standard clothing for such an evening as was just had, chosen to emulate a panther with black fur. Cat strides along with Helena leaning upon her. The case holding her guitar is over one arm, a backpack across the other. Her expression shows an absence of fatigue, the physical frame is a bit sweaty from the exertion of her stagecraft but mostly dried from the cooler air outdoors. She sings those lyrics along with the slightly less tall blonde, her own vocal power held back somewhat to avoid upstaging her. One might conclude she's also had a stout or four; tipsy and in a good mood but not staggering. "I think I'm going to offer someone breakfast in bed today," she muses.

"It's not that I don' want t'fine Munroe, I jus' don't want that bloody telepath turnin' my brain into so much grape jelly because we decided to wake him from his beauty sleep like some fuckin' big ole' bear." Agent Woods waves one hand flippantly in the air in front of himself, as if gesturing how exactly his brains would be so scrambled. Peter cracks a smile and shakes his head, coming to stop at the elevators to the regular apartments, pressing the call button before glancing back at his partner.

"Oh come on, he isn't that bad." Peter jokes with a crooked smile, "Look, I just think Parkman will have some insight. Bob recommended that I get in touch with him on the matter, and I think that's a whole hell of a lot better than going back to Buckley without so much as a scrap of a lead on Munroe's whereabouts." Woods doesn't seem convinced, scoffing as he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Peter, somewhat lazily, turns to look towards the sound of the doorman's feigned cheer and the sound of the two women joined in song. It is the somewhat shorter blonde's appearance that catches Peter's attention, not an expression that would normally be associated with Helena, but one of considerable worry. One hand springs out of his pocket, grabbing Woods by the bicep as he motions towards the door with a nod of his head.

"Woods, Woods." Peter snarls out the name in a harsh whisper, yanking Woods to the side, "It's Sylar." Peter's eyes dart back to the pair by the door, "What the hell is he doing here?" Peter looks around franticly in the hallway between the elevators, trapped in plain sight of the front doors. Woods ruffles when he's grabbed by Peter, only then settling his eyes on the two women coming in through the front door.

"'Oi, Pete. Last I checked Sylar wasn't quite that bloody stacked, eh?" Peter gives the Agent a crooked expression, and Woods merely rolls his eyes. "God Pete he's a bloody shapeshifter, he's got you jumpin' at shadows. Besides, I don' think Sylar could carry a tune if it had bloody straps."

Helena giggles. "I have a looooong walk ahead of me." She's had a few beers herself, but her high seems to be more one of release and not intoxication as she sings out the next line, "An I only feel good when I got no pain," lifting her eyes toward the elevator, "And thats how I'm gonna stay…" her voice trails off and she stops dead, gripping Cat's arm and staring. "Peter." she breathes. She lets it go and starts to walk forward. "Oh god, Peter…?"

You know, she had it all planned out in her head. What she'd do if she bumped into him while he was under Company control. How calm she'd be. So much for that.

The taller of the pair, instrument laden, matches Helena's singing of the lyrics, starting to belt them out a bit and let more of her vocal style shine through, while also laughing. Until her arm is gripped more tightly and the blonde commences with the staring. Cat's own gaze follows and settles on the man she dubbed Rock, he of the scarred face and the early morning art.

She moves after Helena once the blonde is moving forward again, just a step or two behind her and adding what's seen to her very permanent records. First thing noticed is Peter not being alone. His partner is quietly studied and speculated about.

Woods narrows his eyes when he sees the way Helena reacts, and hears Peter's name come from her lips. He sighs, as if this was all just too much effort and reaches into his jacket, producing a pistol with one hand, and withdrawing a badge with the other, "Federal Agent." He says with a sneer, advancing from the hallway with the gun drawn. Peter's eyes go wide, and he looks at Woods with a stunned expression.

"Woods, Woods what the hell?" Peter hurries to follow behind his partner, but his protest grows quiet. The people behidn the desk pale at the sight of a drawn firearm, until Woods produces the badge. Peter's eyes level at first on Cat, then on Helena, his brow furrowed with a puzzled expression. For a moment he eyes her jacket, then looks back up to her again, head canted to the side.

"I've said it once I'll say it again, a third time I won't be so sweet and chipper, Federal Agent, please be so bloody kind as to present your IDs." Woods has absolutely no charisma that isn't jagged and rough on the edges, and his demeanor gives Peter some pause, but as if he were some look-alike to the Peter both Cat and Helena knew, the dark-haired man merely frowns and reaches inside of his jacket.

"It's been a long day for my partner and I," He tries to cover for Woods' strangely harsh mood, "Just do as he says and I'm sure this will only take a moment." He hopes this is just some kind've misunderstanding. Woods, what the hell's going on?

The blonde Agent quirks a brow and shoots a glare over at Peter, Did I give you fucking permission to be in my head. //Sod off Petrelli. Keep your thoughts to yourself unless I ask for your bloody expertise, y'got me?//

Peter frowns at the telepathic rebuking, turning his head to the side and looking back to Helena and Cat.

Helena isn't so foolish as to not have an ID. It is of course, a fake. "If I reach into my pocket to get it, are you going to shoot me?" she asks plainly. She looks back at Cat, and then back at Peter with a strange intensity like she's trying to broadcast her thoughts as loudly as she can. Peter, please. I don't know how they did it, but they took it all away from you. I can show you proof of who you were. Who you are. Maybe he'll hear it. Maybe he won't. She reaches into her pocket slowly as she begins to walk forward again.

Her demeanor shifts from being the displayed good mood to one of stern poise when the gun and badge are shown. She doubts very much this man is a Federal agent, the badge must be fake, but she doesn't speak of that possibility just yet. Instead she studies it carefully, filing away the image with every detail it provides her. One hand goes to her back pocket; it slowly pulls out a driver's license and bar association card which she shows to the pair. "Catherine Chesterfield, attorney at law," she states. Her thoughts amplify a bit as she does so, showing Peter a clear memory of him being with her and Dani in the room at St. Luke's Hospital.

Wood's psychic admonishing had stifled Peter's outwards perceptions of thoughts enough to be oblivious to the pair's attempt at communication. He'll play the part of a good and docile attack dog for the time being, after all, Woods has more experience at this. "Nobody's going to get shot," He says with as much of a smile and certainty as he can manage. He glances at Woods, then back to Helena. "Just move slowly and I'm sure this misunderstanding can be handled without issue."

"No sharp movements." Woods strains, then glances at Peter as he lowers his badge and places it back into his jacket, holding out his now free hand towards Helena, eyes flitting back and forth between her and Cat. "Petrelli, you want to call this in for me. Just tell them we have a 675 at Dorchester Towers." He tries to sound calm, but there's an uneasiness to his tone of voice. Peter watches Woods for a moment, then the two women before retrieving a phome, and not a gun from his jacket pocket.

"Yeah, sure…" He murmurs, flipping open the slender phone, hesitating from pressing one of the buttons as he glances up to the brunette, brow furrowed for just a moment before he presses "1" on the speed dial. The phone is raised to his ear, ringing. At the same time, Woods steps forward, glancing at Helena's ID, and then Cat's, followed by a wrinkle of his nose at her identification. He takes a step back, not saying anything yet, whatever he's waiting for seems to be hinging on that phone call.

"My name is Helena." Helena had hoped that it would be Peter who would look at her id, that she could pass the note pressed in her palm to him so he could see what was written on it — something to give him answers, and also a lot more questions. But it's going to get worse before it gets better. She looks at Peter. "If you call it in, I can't help you find Elle Bishop."

She has a plan, she does, formed fairly quickly in her mind to deal with this situation. Cat's on the side of very much doubting the man with Peter is really a Federal agent, and is about to call him on it, hoping to use her status as an attorney and bluster to their benefit. But it quickly goes out the window when Helena speaks of finding Elle Bishop. Time for Plan B.

Her eyes turn to the man with Peter and fix him with a stern look. "You can drop the act, put your gun and the false badge away, before I start shouting to the building security that they have an intruder impersonating a Federal agent. They'll call 911, the real police will come, and arrest you."

Woods winces visibly when Helena says that, his thumb moving back to the hammer on the pistol, but he can already feel Peter's piercing stare burning into the side of his head. Instead, Woods doesn't do anything, just shoots a glare at Peter warningly, as if to quietly insist that he does as ordered. Peter, however, seems thrown for a loop — The girl knew who Elle Bishop was, and it's clear by the dumbfounded expression on Peter's face he does as well. On the phone, a muffled voice can be heard, but Peter's not responding to it.

His brow tenses, and he looks at Woods again, then back to Helena, and mumbles into the phone, "Sorry, ass-dialed you again." Then slaps it shut. That sound, the phone closing, causes Woods to grow more tense. His hand holding the pistol moves slightly, thumb sliding the safety off.

At Cat's assertion, Woods cracks a smile, "Sorry love, badge is as real as the hair on me head."

"You are Sylar, aren't you?" Peter's focus is stolen away from Woods and Cat's exchange, drawing the entirely wrong understanding from Helena. When Woods shoots another glance back to the girl, it seems even he is buying into the idea, and he watches the girl more uncertainly. Judging from his reactions, it's clear he has no idea who Helena really is, only that she knows Peter. "You don't seem like the type to be cavorting around with lawyers, Sylar. Hopefully you're getting a nice defense case put together for when you finally do get put away for what you've done." At least part of him still seems to believe in due process. Peter shakes his head, brows tensing, "Sanders' info was too old, and both Adam and Huruma moved on from the location. Are you sure you still know where she is? Buckley is willing to cooperate still, but right now it seems like we're both just grasping at thin air."

"I swear to you, I am not Sylar." This she says in earnest, meeting Peter's eyes. Woods is immaterial. "All you have to do is look here." She taps her temple, and turns out her palm to show him the note. "Please." she says, holding it out to Peter. If Woods tries to snatch it, she's prepared to pull it back. "Please, just look. I don't know where Bishop is now, but you need all the help you can get." Outside it's growing cold, and there's a rumble of thunder. "Peter, please." Heart-broken is a good word for how she sounds, holding out the piece of paper.

"Sylar?" Cat repeats the name her friend is accused of, her tone becoming more stern. She addresses Woods again, and asserts "I think you got someone to make that false badge for you, and got the idea to try using the authority it pretends to project in an attempt to take sexual advantage of two young women. That's what I'm going to shout at these fine building security people if you don't. put. that. weapon. away. right. now."

While doing so, as peripheral vision detects Helena tapping her temple, Cat calls up those memories of him being in that hospital room with her and Dani again, intending to show it to Peter. "My friend is not Gabriel Gray."

When Helena implores that she's not Sylar, and when Cat starts to only further complicate matters, Woods grabs Peter by the collar of his jacket and yanks him back with one hand, stepping in between the two and leveling the pistol at the young girl. He doesn't seem to pay any heed to the slip of paper. "Petrelli, get on the phone now." Woods' eyes flit to the glass doors at the front of the lobby, to the wind picking up outside, a puzzled expression on his face before he looks back down to Helena. "Down on the ground!" The blonde Brit isn't the least bit amused by Cat's assertations.

Peter stumbles back from the shove with Woods interposed between the two women and himself. His eyes are wide, a look of confusion and hesitation on his face as he eyes the paper in her hand. "Peter now!" Woods barks, and that sense of authority is enough to get him opening the phone again. He presses the same button as before, with no hesitation, this time, slowly backing away from the pair of women, not looking like he understands a whit of what is going on.

"Hello? Yeah, this is Agent Petrelli, I'm with Agent Woods. We've got a code…" Peter hesitates just for a moment, and looks puzzled before continuing, "675 at Dorchester Towers." He doesn't seem to know what the code means.

"Both of you, down on the ground now!" Woods motions to one of the people behind the desk with his free hand, "I need you to buzz Agent Matthew Parkman's apartment!" One of the people behind the desk gives a sheepish nod, the badge and gun and the authoritative tone of his voice seems to be all they need to comply. "Down on the floor with both hands behind your heads, both of you!"

Peter, a few feet behind Woods looks completely lost. There's absolutely no sign of recognition even as he stares right at two objects of his former affection, no sign of emotion to the pleading sound of Helena's voice, it's as though that girl in front of him meant nothing at all. All that's there is confusion, and, "How do you know Elle Bishop?" There's that.

"God, what did they do to you?" Helena says. Then looking at the barrel of the gun, her eyes flick back to Peter. "I love you." she says, and it's followed by, "I'm sorry."

And with that, from an instant of still, normal indoors air, a hurricane force of wind whips out at Peter and Woods knocking over potted plants and any debris in its outward push from Helena's small self.

Gillian has arrived.

She meant business. Cat believes cooperating with Woods, doing anything he says, will only mean she and Helena get thrown into a deep dark hole and she has no intention of letting any such thing happen. She had warned the man, fairly, twice. She doesn't make any move to obey his instructions. Instead, she carries through on her threat. Her voice raises to the highest pitch she can reach, and the top volume as well. "RAPE! RAPE! Help! These men are trying to kidnap us with fake badges so they can rape us!"

And anticipating he might shoot at or try to pistol whip her for doing so, Cat sidesteps quickly away from the weapon's barrel.

This would be a very bad time to step off the elevator, it would seem. Gillian's dressed in her usual dark clothes, long hair pulled back into a pony tail and fringe bangs hanging in her eyes. She's got a bag over her shoulder which she carries with her. She's minding her own business, for the most part, having glanced down at her left wrist, where a new tattoo of a yin/yang design has been etched into skin reddened by the process. She's still shaking it off when a gust of wind catches her hair. It's not direct, so she doesn't get slammed right back into the elevator. And someone's screaming rape. Well. Only one thing she can do about this. She reaches into her bag, and starts to move to investigate. "What is going on here?" Besides rape.

The words that slip from Helena's lips barely have a second to register in Peter's mind before both he and Woods are sent flying off of their feet. Woods catches the brunt of the wind, flying off both of their feet only a split second after Cat's piercing cries fill the air. The Apartment security has no idea what's going on now, but the howling wind that uplifts potted plants, topples furniture and sends plasma television screens flying from the walls of the lobby is enough to get people diving for cover, not calling for help. Behind the front desk, the silent alarm is triggered to call the local law-enforcement, as this has just turned into something far more violent than the Dorchester security team would care to intervene on.

Woods ends up on the other side of the lobby, down the hall by the elevators with a chaise lounge pinning him to the floor just a few feet from Gillian. His gun was thrown from his hand in the cyclonic burst, somewhere buried beneath a mount of soil from a shattered potted plant next to where Peter sits, slumped up agaist the wall adjacent to the hallway the elevators are visible from. His all-too-thin phone in two broken pieces at his feet. He's not entirely out though, groaning as he groggily tries to struggle up to his feet, one hand holding a bleeding cut on the side of his head.

Under the chaise lounge, Woods struggles to move, followed by a sharp cry of pain as he feels the broken bones in his right forearm. He slumps back down onto his face, cheek pressed into the tile floor.

She's on the move soon as the two go down. Cat steps over to where Woods is, intending to grab both his weapon and the badge she claims is fake with her. "Evidence," she calls out, "I'm taking the fake badge to make sure it gets properly handled and the gun so he can't hurt anyone else before the cops arrest him. This one," she spits out, pointing towards the British accented one, "is clearly a dangerous Evolved who made the wind spike when we tried to defend ourselves! He should be locked up and never see the light of day again!"

"I've never seen something like that happen before," Gillian says, looking from them to the wake of destruction caused by the blast of wind that hit her hair. Looks as if she's grateful she's not ended up just like the man who ended up with broken bones. She's got red skin on her wrist, but that's more than enough for her tastes. When they mention leaving, she just nods, looking from them to the men sprawled closer to her, still holding onto something in her bag. From the looks of thing, she's skeptical about what they're saying. "Flinging themselves into a wall is an Evolved power?" However, she noticeably is moving away from the indicated "Evolved" and at the same time a bit closer to some of the other people in the room.

Peter finally manages to get on his feet, just as Cat begins to scavenge the holding the still bleeding cut on his head. But beneath his fingertips, he can feel the cut beginning to stitch itself closed as the dark-haired woman passes within just a few feet on her way by. A hoarse groan slips past Peter's lips as he looks with blurred vision at Helena and Cat who are now much further away than he recalled. His eyes avert from them to the dark-haired young woman, then to the chaise lounge pinning Woods to the floor. He smacks his lips, wavering on both feet, his brow tensing slightly as he blinks his eyes open and closed. A moment later one hand moves to the side of his head.

"Nnh…" It's a pained sound, as would be expected as his mind is inundated by the thoughts flooding into him from people all across the first floor of the apartment building. Gillian's presence amplifies the telepathy, causing Peter to back up awkwardly into the wall, one hand pressing up against it to brace himself. Peter falters, though, as his hand passes through the wall, causing him to stumble, recoiling his arm with a positively puzzled expression.

A moment later, that very hand catches alight in a wreath of flames, "W-what — " He flails the arm wildly, at first frightened by the sudden appearance of the fire. "What's going — Aaah!" Both of Peter's hands, one flaming and one not come to rest at the sides of his head, eyes turning a milky white coloration as he drops to one knee, "//W-what — //" The wind picks up in the room, swirling around where Peter kneels, then immediately die down as the temperature begins to lower rapidly, cooling enough to allow his breath to be seen.

Peter looks up, blindly, his white eyes wandering the room as his skin begins to become backlit, bones in his hands starting to glow white with an internal light, and the potted plant that was toppled over near him stars to turn brown and crisp from heat that radiates from his luminous skin. "W-What… what's…" Peter looks down at his hands, trembling as the debris scattered around him begins to lift up from the ground of its own accord, floating upwards and falling to the ceiling as if gravity was suddenly reversed. Whatever he's doing, he's completely losing control of it, of all of it.

Helena halts as she watches Peter process through his arsenal of powers. Oddly, it fills her with hope - these powers only come with the associations he has with the people who bear them which means he's remembering, which means her Peter is coming back, or is somehow in there, and isn't entirely unable to be saved.

But then he starts to go radiate. And she knows what that means. And she also knows how if he survived, it would devastate him.

The lesson she learned from Claude? Treat him like what he is.

Her hands fling up, directing a powerful wind upward to try and smack Peter up against the ceiling. The only way she can think of to stop him is to knock him out…and pray to God she doesn't kill him.

She's got the weapon and the badge in hand, taken from where they landed near the downed Woods, and turning to approach Helena when Peter's dam bursts. Gillian's presence is registered, she might later ascribe meaning to it, the woman herself is remembered, but there are more pressing matters to address. Like stopping Mr. Petrelli from taking out the building, herself, Helena, Dani, and a bunch of other people in the process. She doesn't intend to die, saying that's even worse than the prospect of being put in a dark hole that made her defy Woods would be a severe understatement.

Cat's intention is to use the gun to pistol whip Peter, but she's beaten to the punch when the winds happen. So much for her plan, again. And the cover. There are probably video cameras recording things, and it may be very obvious who the winds came from given that Helena raised her hands just before them. "Damn," she murmurs.

The last few days this has seemed to become a more common occurance. What happened? Gillian's standing there, looking at the "Evolved" and moving away from him, when all of a sudden the other man starts to get up and react to things that— someone's drawing on her own energy. She's felt it before. This tugs at her a little more forcefully than she's used to, perhaps because of the reactions she's watching him go through. "What the— hell." That's not what she expected to happen. This looks really bad. Really really bad. And at first she's too stunned to do the smart thing like move away. Her bag actually falls off her shoulder and tumbles to the ground, the object she was grasping — presumably the object she was grasping — falls out. Looks like a can of compressed air, like someone would use to clean a keyboard. Hey, it hurts if sprayed in the eyes or the ears. Great self defense weapon, and legal.

And then the woman makes a gesture— there's another augmentation— she feels more energy pulled from her, which luckily lowers the amount the other one is getting. That wind didn't come from the guy sprawled on the floor. That's obvious now. Her lips part. She wants to say something, but words aren't really coming out very eloquently. So excuse her when the most she manages to get out is a, "Holy shit."

Helena's proximity to Gillian only amplifies what is already a decidedly sticky situation. As her hands raise, and she focuses on a wind powerful enough to both lift Peter off of his feet and smash him hard enough into the ceiling to knock him out, she gets perhaps a bit more than she bargained for. The wind picks up, a tornado-like gust then lifts Peter up into the air like a rocket, his glowing and flaming form hurled into the tiled ceiling with a thunderous crash — Which to the least of Helena's concerns blows Cat's cover-story, much as the musician imagines.

Peter crashes through the ceiling, smashing tiles and sending them raining to the floor. The clerks behind the desk are running for their lives now, screaming as they duck through doorways into the offices, and even security charges outside as the violent expansion of air pressure causes the plate glass windows on the front doors to blow outwards onto the street. Cabling and wires in the ceiling are torn apart as Peter is thrown through them, striking the metal framework within the ceiling before coming hurling back down to the ground. He strikes the tiled floor, cracking the ones directly beneath him, his body twisted into such a manner that it simply shouldn't be. He's not moving, but on that same token the radioactive glow around his body and flames have completely subsided. He's either unconscious or dead.

Helena makes a small noise in the back of her throat. She hadn't meant to do that! She'd never had rushed out so much force unwittingly! She rushes to the twisted body, skidding to her knees next to it, gingerly touching it as she whispers frantically. "Claire. Claire. You need to think of Claire, Peter please…think of Claire…Cat! Cat, we've got to get him out of here so he can heal…" she looks at Gillian, not knowing her, not really thinking about it, but begging, "Please…help us. We've got to get him out of here."

The sounds of sirens in the distance can be heard.

She pockets the gun and badge taken from Woods, moving swiftly to grab one of Peter's arms and start pulling him upright, perhaps with the idea they can drape him over shoulders between them. Her apartment is on the first floor, it's Cat's goal to go there and think. They can stop and think briefly then, and make their next move. As well as getting Dani out. "This way!" she instructs, nodding in the appropriate direction with her head. No matter she's already got a guitar case and backpack over her shoulders, she's not wasting time to drop them.

The begging might tug on a few heartstrings, maybe, but— Gillian looks toward the person they're wanting her to help, then backs away, picks up her bag, can of compressed air, and says, "Probably better I don't. Uh— good luck with— that." And with this, she starts towards the front doors, getting the hell away. All amplification will fade as she flees the scene of the crime.

Peter's body is limp, lifted up by Cat with a meaty pop and snap sound as dislocated limbs pop back into place. His head lolls back, another snapping and popping sound coming from that motion when he is moved that travels from the base of his neck all the way down his back as Cat lifts him up. Miraculously, there is a weak whimper that escapes him, but he remains otherwise unmoving and lifeless. Woods, still pinned under the chaise lounge, has given up the struggle to stand, too much is bent, broken or sprained for him to do anything other than get more hurt.

Helena shakes her head, lowers her voice in case Woods hears, "No, they'll search the building…come out the back way, I know a place we can go…" Because she really, truely believes staying here is a really bad idea. "We'll figure it out from there." Hopefully, Cat will listen and they can book before the sirens get too close.

She glances back toward Woods while holding part of the Petrelli upright so she and Helena can move him. Cat scowls at the man, anger and contempt showing on her features. "Listen up, asshole, if you can hear me. This is what you get for pretending to be a Fed and trying to rape innocent women and using your Evolved powers when they don't give in! I hope you enjoy prison!" Sure, the cover story as she imagined it is blown, but she's thinking on her feet and working to build another. Yes, that's it. One of their attackers, who fled, must have had the power of illusion to make it look like Helena caused the winds. Yes, that's it.

As Cat and Helena flee through the blown open doors, crunching glass underfoot, the flash of blue lights several blocks down indicate the swarm of police headed to the scene of the incident. Hustling down the front steps of the apartment building, they only now see the furthered results of Helena and Peter's amplified powers, with power lines sparking and splitting in winds that are only now dying down. Vehicles have been battered by hail, the skies are mottled with clouds, and one building after another, the lights begin to blow as power is lost to the block.

They flee under the cover of darkness, sirens at their backs.

Broken windows and wind damage were the likely result of a microburst that hit the upper west side early Friday morning, a National Weather Service official said.

"In most cases they're not strong-force winds. But in some cases we do get these sudden winds that can knock down trees and cause damage," said Greg Lundeen, a NWS meteorologist. Friday's brief but sudden storm packed strong winds, blowing out the front windows of the Dorchester Towers Apartments and downing powerlines in the area, cutting off power for several hours to the neighboring blocks.

Other parts of the city experienced power outages, downed power lines and light hail.

A microburst, according to Lundeen, is part of the basic mechanics of a storm. As a storm's strength is built up by winds from the ground up, eventually gravity takes over and the energy returns to the surface, in some cases accompanied by extremely strong winds. That is likely what occurred in the Upper West Heights area. "Power lines down over a small area is usually a good sign of something like that happening," Lundeen said.

Residents of Dorchester Towers are expected to be able to remain in their apartments while the cleanup process is underway.

October 9th: Antivirus
October 10th: Keep You Away?
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