harrison_icon.gif julian_icon.gif melissa4_icon.gif riggs_icon.gif peter_icon.gif

Scene Title Efficient
Synopsis Messiah unites to complete an assignment that takes them out to Montana and they discover just how lethal acting as a team can be.
Date June 30, 2010

Westchester Airport

White Plains, New York


The sky is a burning shadow of orange in the western horizon, fading to rich shades of plum and sapphire in the east where the moon has risen in waning crescent over the glitter of city lights. Long shadows are cast across the tarmac of the Westchester Airport, miles north of New York City, where a small dual-propeller plane waits for its passengers. Standing on the tarmac, looking back at the white painter's van unloading passengers, Peter Petrelli pushes a pair of sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to more closely inspect the two people coming out of the back of the van.

It's this meeting site where Harrison Jones and Melissa Pierce were picked up to rendezvous with Peter and the other member of their team in preparation for their trip out to Montana. It's a long flight they're preparing for. Coming down the steps from inside of the waiting plane, the lanky and darkly-dressed frame of Larson Riggs offers a scrutinizing look to the van, then Peter as he climbs down the last few stairs to the tarmac.

"These the ones?" Riggs asks, looking across to Peter. His response is just a nod, but the Jamaican-born member of Messiah has become accustomed to Peter's at times stony silence in regards to their work. Moving across the tarmac, Larson lifts a hand in greeting, calling out to the two emerging from the van.

"'Ey! Get yer bags an' come on, we've got a long flight ahead've us an' I don' wan' it t'take us any longer than it already will!" Impatient as always, Larson lowers his hand from the wave and sweeps his palm over the top of his head, squinting dark eyes against the setting sun.

Peter isn't the only one who's short on words today. Melissa grabs her backpack from the van, though rather than slinging it over her shoulder as she normally would, it's simply carried at her side as she begins to walk towards the plane. The reason for it is simple enough to see. She's got cuts all over her arms, and it looks like they continue onto her back. Maybe that's also why she looks a little pale? Or perhaps it's just the darker hair. Who knows.

Riggs gets a quick look, then a nod, but Peter only gets a look. Mel is clearly not too thrilled with the leader of Messiah. It's the former she addresses though, as she digs out a bottle of pills from one of the pockets of her cargo pants, some of those pockets weighted down by who only knows what. "When do we leave?" she asks, before tapping a pill into her mouth and dry swallowing it. The bottle is then closed and slid back into her pocket.

When he got the call, he knew it would come when he would have to step up and do his part for the team. Harrison does his best as he quickly gathers a few things and throws them in a back pack. His wallet, some money, a change of underwear, and his iPod. He runs out to the van and gets in looking over at Melissa. He smiles softly and says, 'Hey." He takes out his iPod he slides the ear pieces into his ears and turns the music up loud.

His left leg begins to shake as the drive takes longer then he expects and swallows hard when it comes to a completely stop at the tarmac. Harrison jumps out behind Melissa and looks around a bit wide eyed. He is dressed in all black with the exception of his red scarf tied around his neck. He shoves his hands in his pockets and jumps slightly when the Riggs calls for them to hurry up. He follows in silently behind Melissa.

"We're leavin' now," Riggs states flatly, turning around with a side-long glance towards Harrison, then steps past Peter and strides up the steps into the plane. Peter seems less in a hurry than Riggs is, less jumpy, less jittery, and his look to Melissa is a conflicted one that says more than his silence could. Instead choosing to settle his attention on Harrison, Peter cracks a smile and takes a step backward, motioning towards the stairs that lead up into the plane.

"Easy, Harrison. No need to be jumpy, you're probably the least likely out of any of us here to get hurt, doing what you're able to do." It's that very notion that has Peter's brows creasing in thoughtful furrow as he looks between Harrison and Melissa, then gives a nod of his head up to the small plane.

"It's tight seating, but it's just the four of us. Riggs is flying us out, I'll explain the details of what we're doing once everyone's aboard." Peter's dark eyes give one last look to the setting sun on the horizon, then a deep breath before he pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "Come on…"

Riggs gets a nod from Melissa, and eyes flick over Peter once more before she heads up the stairs and into the plane. She doesn't seem to mind the cramped quarters, and works on just finding a seat, easing carefully into it rather than flopping down as is usual for her. The backpack is set on the floor next to her feet before she tilts her head back and lets her eyes close.

As Harrison looks over at Peter, he looks over at the man considering him a moment and says softly, "Sorry…just…well I was not expecting my first mission to be with the leader of…well you." He looks over at Melissa and gives her a nervous smile seeing a face he knows a bit more before he loses his smile. He can see she is getting her mind in the "game". He follows the Riggs up the ramp as he plops himself in the chair. He turns off his iPod and takes a deep breath. His leg begins to shake slightly again.

Climbing up into the small beachcraft and hitting the close switch for the door, Peter has to duck his head just slightly to walk into the plane. With Riggs in the pilot seat, Peter comes clunking over to the row of seats in front of Harrison and Melissa, settling down sideways into one, hooking an arm over the back of the chair so he can turn to address the pair more clearly. There's no comment about Harrison's first mission being with the leader, but there is a faint touch of a smile on Peter's lips, remembering his first encounter with PARIAH's leader Cameron Spalding back when he first joined that group.

"The plan's pretty straightforward…" Peter begins as the engines kick on and begin to rumble noisily, "we've got about a six and a half hour flight before we touch down in Billings. We're going to be met there by a Messiah operative named Julian Kuhr, he's a former Moab inmate like Riggs, Melissa and myself." Peter motions around the cabin, then tips his head into a nod and clears his throat.

"Julian's done some scouting on the facility we'll be targeting. It's a manufacturing plant for a company called Pharmatech. They produce a device called an isotope tracking gun that is utilized by organizations to implant radioactive isotopes into Evolved in order to track them via satellite. This is the primary manufacturing plant for the isotope guns, and we're going to bring it down to the ground and destroy everything inside."

Flashing a look over his shoulder to Riggs as the plane begins to speed up, moving across the runway, Peter continues to detail the mission. "Riggs is our demolitions expert, he's got a plan to set up the bombs we're going to use to bring the building down and destroy the hardware being manufactured. However, there's a high level of security at the facility, night and day. Which is where we all come in. We're going to disable the security teams inside the facility so that Riggs can plant the explosives safely."

When Peter starts explaining the mission Melissa keeps her eyes closed, but there's no sign of surprise from her. But then, she's heard all this before. This time, however, she refrains from touching the mark left by one of those very guns. She remains silent for now, almost looks as though she's trying to sleep if it weren't for the soft, rhythmic tapping of her fingers against the arm of her seat.

As he swallows hard, Harrison listens intently to Peter and then looks over at Riggs as the plane begins to take off. He gives Melissa a side glance and then back to Peter. He raises his hand like a kid in grade school and waits to be called upon. He looks foolish for sure yet it is his first mission. He does not know the complete protocol to all of this yet…

Cracking a lopsided smile, Peter snorts out a laugh and shakes his head, looking to Harrison. "You don't need to raise you hand," Peter explains with a laugh, leaning back against the window beside his seat as the plane begins to vibrate, shuddering steadily as it accelerates further, finally taking those first few tentative drifts up off of the ground, angling upwards as the horizon seems to tilt from the perspective out the windows on ascent.

"What's your question, Harrison?" Peter asks with a good-natured smile, seeming far more easy-going than he did at the Messiah meeting, less stern and militaristic in demeanor. Perhaps at the moment, that isn't the particular face he needs to wear, not the role he needs to play.

The moment the plane first leaves the ground Melissa's eyes open and cut towards the little window, watching the scenery outside whiz by and grow smaller and smaller. If one didn't know better, they'd think it was her first time flying, despite a lack of fear. Or, well, any visible emotion, really. Maybe it's the pill popping?

The apples in Harrison's cheeks begin to turn a few shades darker towards cherry as he lowers his hand and looks down into his lap and asks, "Why do you want me to do? Am I to be the shield for you guys to get closer? Draw them out? What? I know I am the least one to get hurt yet…well I have to be honest. Ash has been helping learn how to fight better but I have never well fought in my life…much less fought with other Evolved. I don't want you guys to get hurt because I screw up or something."

"You, Harrison, are definitely our shield. Once we get to the facility, I'd like you to be in your metallic form the whole time. If we get involved in a firefight, I want you to act as mobile cover for the team, block incoming gunfire and if you have to, neutralize the security team however you can. You're… probably considering what we're likely to go up against, unstoppable. So just remember that and plow on through, you've got nothing to be afraid of in that form of yours where we're going, not if you're anything like Allen is."

Despite that he seems relaxed and casual, Peter keeps stealing glances at Melissa, looking down at the scabbed over cuts on her arms, attention drawn to the rattle of a pill bottle, brows furrowed and expression difficult to read before he looks back to Harrison. "The rest of us are getting kevlar vests, but you… you're a big block of bulletproof metal. You'll be fine. Just remember ot stay calm and follow instructions."

It doesn't look like Melissa has noticed the looks Peter's giving her, since she's still looking out the window, but with a blank look on her face. No, it's really not that fascinating. Alas. "And what's my job? Radiate pain for everyone not us, or just hit the people we run into?" she asks without looking back.

Harrison nods slowly and says, "I am not sure how long I can hold it. I think the longest I have held it without it hurting me is 25 minutes. Yet I will do my best to help in any way you tell me too." Harrison nods slowly running a hand through his messy hair before looking over at Melissa.

Squinting at that caveat of Harrison's, Peter furrows his brows and nods slowly. He doesn't answer right away, but instead looks towards Melissa first. "You're spot on, just keep us safe and if anyone gets hurt priority goes to them if they still have a job to do." It's only then when Peter looks over at Harrison and offers a chipper piece of commentary.

"Hopefully we won't have to test your limits tonight…"



Laurel Municipal Airport

Billings, Montana

By the time the twin-engine beachcraft touched down in Montana, there's hardly any other aircraft out on the tarmac. This small public air strip lined with hangars is the perfect place for a seemingly legitimate meeting to take place. As the door to the plane opens and folds down onto the air strip, Peter Petrelli is the first off, duffelbag carried over one shoulder and boots clomping down the steps. Headlights approaching down the runway are likely from whatever means of conveyance the man they've come here to meet has.

While the headlights are still just bright spots drawing near, Peter sets his duffelbag down and unzips the top, taking out a blue and black police-issue kevlar vest, laying it down on the pavement. "Melissa, come get suited up." A second is taken out and lifted up, slid on over Peter's head as he begins working the straps and buckles to fasten it into place.

Back in the plane, Riggs leans back against the pilot seat, breathing in deeply and staring at his hand, lifted up into field of view where a tiny dragonfly perches on his raised index finger. Clear wings buzz quietly and the dragonfly's long thorax twitches, eliciting a smile from Riggs as he cranes his neck to watch the other passengers disembark.

Melissa isn't far behind Peter, carrying her backpack. She napped during most of the plane ride, after plans were made. She needed it, after the night she had. She's silent as she moves over to Peter and sets her bag down, picking up the vest and starting to put it on, wincing a little as it rubs on the cuts on her back. The pill bottle comes out again, another pill popped and dry swallowed, before it's put away and the vest is fastened securely. And with that kept as a barrier, the backpack is lifted and slid over her shoulders for the first time. Then she simply looks towards the headlights and waits.

Harrison exits the plane behind Melissa. He got a few hours sleep himself and woke with a start nearly half way there. He listened to his iPod the rest of the way with his eyes closed. As he exits, he pulls off his jacket to reveal his t-shirt without any sleeves. He cracks his neck and does a few stretches before looking towards the head lights coming in their direction while sliding his belongings into his backpack.

The sedan that comes cruising down the runway comes into being the closer it gets, more than just the glare of its twin headlights. There is nothing impressive about this car save for the fact it drives fine and doesn't choke and stammer its engine despite the age of its paint job. Braking some small walking distance away, the driver doesn't wait to be approached, door levering open and a long limbed figure climbing out. His pale skin catches what little light is available, his clothes dark save for the bright red of the scarf he has wrapped around his neck, left light and loose to wear.

Julian Kuhr casts hazel eyes over the assembled group, a gloved hand up to rub at his mouth before it drops again, and from there, Melissa and Peter both might recognise the nature of the scar from the similar version that Teo bears — less gaping and twisting, but exaggeratedly long, rippling skin from the corner of his mouth right up towards his ear.

"Petrelli," he greets, the first hints of his Belfast accent shaping his words. His eyes roam up to the open door of the plane. "This it?"

Fastening on his vest while Riggs takes his own from the bag, Peter nods curtly to Julian on his approach. "This is everyone." There's an assessing look out towards the sedan over Julian's shoulder, followed by a furrow of Peter's brows. "Gonna be a tight squeeze," he admits with a crooked smile. "Alright, everyone listen up!" Peter waves a hand in the air, turning from where he stands between Julian and the rest of the group.

"This is Julian, he's out local eyes for this area. He's been surveiling our targeted facility for the last couple of months now and is going to get us up to speed on everything. Riggs, Melissa, Harrison, you'll be riding in the back. Hope you don't mind being friendly with each other." There's a look back to Julian, and Peter tilts his chin up assessingly. "Riggs is going to load the ordinance into the trunk that we're going to use to bring the place down. There anything you need before we go?"

While Peter is setting everything up, Riggs finishes strapping his vest on over his loose white shirt, heading back up into the plane. He's gone for only a few moments before returning with a heavy pair of over-filled dueffelbags, one slung over each shoulder as he runs hastily across the tarmac towards the back of the car, then pauses and holds out a hand for Julian to toss him the keys to he can get into the trunk.

While Melissa listens to the current plans, she pulls out a hairband, pulling her hair back and securing it so it'll stay out of her face. It would be a pity to get killed because hair got in the way, after all. "Thank god for pain pills," she mutters at mention of being cramped. Then she looks at Riggs and Harrison, knowing that neither of them could squish themselves in the middle. Sometimes it sucks to be the smallest one of the bunch. And the only girl to boot. But she heads towards the car to go ahead and climb on in. She is all business today, her usual smiles and laughing nature gone.

As he looks over Julian, Harrison nods slightly before he bends down and grabs his ankles in a quick stretch before he runs over to the car and opens of the door and slides in. His closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He looks over to Melissa and places a hand on her knee and just gives it a pat before he folds his hands into his lap and remains silent.

Remaining a still figure as Harrison and Melissa climb aboard, Julian watches them go with mild interest, before he quietly shakes his head at Peter before letting the car keys fly in a silvery arc to land in Riggs' palm. "Time is money," he notes, turning on a boot heel and climbing back into the driver's seat. Inside, the car reeks of cigarettes and some staler scent that might well be puke from another life, although everything seems thankfully clean. Clean enough.

If you ignore the cigarette butts, the empty beer cans. Inside, Julian cups his mouth with both hands as he gives a hacking cough that almost seems to rock the vehicle, before he's picking out a fresh cigerette from a pocket and jabbing the filter's end into the scarred corner of his mouth. Sickness, scars and demeanor all point to an age that his twenty-something aged features deny.

"I suppose y'know most've the plan," he's saying, as he hunts for a lighter. "I know my way 'round the place and c'n take you in. Private security and nothin' we can't handle. We'll be in and out before supper, ain't that right?"

Grinning, Peter nods his head approvingly at Julian's enthusiasm. Following the dark-haired and scarred young man to the car, Peter steps around the front of the vehicle to the passenger's side, eyeing Melissa thrrugh the windshield as he does. Julian's cough does elicit a nervous look from Peter, but only momentarily so. Pulling the passenger's side door open at the same moment Riggs is slamming the trunk closed, Peter slides down into the seat and draws the door shut, looking in the rear-view mirror as Riggs comes around to the back, nociting that it is — thankfully — Melissa who had to "ride bitch" between he and Harrison.

Squeezing into the back seat, Riggs swings the door closed with a slam, as Peter's attention drifts over to Julian with a cocked brow. "You know, I think I might spring for you getting a bigger car when we're done with this…" Peter jokingly comments, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat, eyes catching Melissa's in the rear-view mirror briefly.

"Riggs," Peter calls out, attention diverting to the Jamaican in the back seat. "Did you bring the guns too?" Riggs sharply nods his head, giving a double thumbs up that elicits a smile from Peter as he leans against the passenger's side door. "I don't think we'll need 'em, but just in case… Have you gotten any live-fire practice? Melissa, Harrison?"

Now, normally a casual touch like a pat on the knee, something meant to be friendly or reassuring, wouldn't phase Melissa in the least. As it is, she jerks away from Harrison's hand and shakes her head. "No touching," she says quietly. Not that it will be possible to avoid some contact with three people squeezed in the back.

When the others climb in she glances to Julian, then Riggs…and finally meeting Peter's gaze in the mirror. "I know how to shoot." She did shoot Adam just the week before, after all. "Have my own guns." So at least it won't be necessary to arm her. Then she lapses back into silence, staring out the windshield.

Harrison looks at Melissa and makes an attempt to not frown and says softly, "Sorry." He looks out the window and sighs before looking back at Peter when he is addressed, "I have not had that training with Melissa yet. I don't think I should be touching a gun yet. I could accidentally shoot one of you."

"I can shoot, and if y'want me to, you'll have to gimme one've those guns. I can also make people die quicker," Julian adds, over his shoulder, so that, you know. Everyone is aware. Stealing the keys back off Riggs, he jams the ignition into place and kickstarts up the hunk of metal, its engine surprisingly purry despite its close quarters and ramshackle appearance. His voice, this with whatever cold he's having trouble healing from, also has some mirh as he adds; "This is a perfectly fuckin' fantastic car, Peter. And it all brings us closer t'gether."

With a sharp jolt, he drives an arcing exit from the runway.

Pharmatech Production Facility

Billings, Montana


Froma distance, the Pharmatech Production Facility looks unassuming. A squat gray concrete building surrounded by a chain-link perimeter fence and a small front parking lot attended by a single night security watchman. The building itself is fully lit, floodlights in the parking lot and interior lights on visible against the dark of night. The blue and white Pharmatech sign on the front of the building glows faintly against the dark, and parked on the side of the road on approach to the facility, Julian Kuhr's sedan has been left behind by the Messiah team.

Further ahead on the road, crouches down in the tall grass outside of the perimeter fence, Peter Petrelli is — of all things — checking his text messages on his cell phone. Dark eyes pay attention to the distant guard shack and the factory itself. "Rebel's accessing the city power grid now. When he flips the electricity, the factory is going to go on to emergency backup. That'll disable the alarms and security and give us enough light to work with."

Looking over his shoulder to Melissa, Riggs, Julian and Harrison, Peter seems tense. "Plan is, we disable that security guard and head in through the parking lot. The first pair of doors directly across the lot takes us in to the production floor. The factory is all one big open space for what matters to us. Riggs is going to focus on getting the machinery primed with the explosives, all we have to do is cover him once we go in and get ready for whatever the security team throws at us. They'll likely be on alert once the power goes out, but that's better than them being able to call out for help."

Riggs doesn't even seem to be paying attention. Kneeling in the grass, his eyes have gone distant and his jaw hangs slack. Brows twitch occasionally, and after a moment's time he seems to snap out of it and look with blinking eyes over to Peter. "Three guards on the floor inside, I don't see the others." Whatever it is that Riggs does, it's given them a surveillance edge to the building. Carrying both of the duffelbags full of explosives, Riggs slides off a small vinyl shoulder bag and hands it carefully to Melissa.

"I need you t'hold onto that. Whatever you do, don't open it until I tell you to. When you do, turn your face away from the bag an' hold the opening away from yourself, I'll take care'a the rest…"

Unlike some of the others, Melissa isn't studying the factory. At least not immediately. First things first and all, which in this case means drawing a pistol, checking the clip, then holstering it again where it'll be easy for her to get to it, all the while nodding at the information from Peter. Riggs's offer of the bag has her arching a brow, but she takes it without question. Either she trusts him or doesn't want to know what's inside. "Any special instructions? Or just take out the guards and keep Riggs safe, nice and simple?"

Harrison takes a deep breath and says, "Peter…I can draw their attention and bring them to me. When the lights go out and the systems are down. If you let me go in first I can try and do what I can to draw their fire and you can do what you can to disable them or work around them. Does that sound ok?" Harrison has no idea what he will do but he cracks his neck and won't shift until he is closer to the area.

Also left behind, flopped over his car seat, was Julian's coat and for practicality's sake, his scarf. Gloves have been long since pulled off, and pale skin from fingertip to shoulder shows in the gloom of the evening, his neck long from the wife-beater he has draped over his torso and shoved into the hem of his jeans. There's a gun strapped to the small of his back, torso burdened with his kevlar vest, a clip buried in the deep pockets of his trousers, and otherwise, skin contact is weapon enough — mottled with healing sores and scratches, scars and bruises though his arms may be.

"I know you might have trouble wiv this one," he says, with a crooked smile, "on account've my animal magnetism, but try not to touch me 'less I'm lights out. Other'n that we're square."

Nodding his head in agreement to Melissa, Peter wordlessly confirms that the plan is simple. When Harrison comes up with his own brand of conventional tactics, it elicits a smile from Peter and a hand slapped firmly down to clamp on Harrison's shoulder. "That's a fantastic idea. We'll give you headway, when the power goes out, Melissa and Julian I want you two to take out the security guard at the watch post," there's a point towards the middle-aged man reading a magazine.

"While you two are taking care of the sentry, Harrison will make a full sprint for the factory to draw attention. I'll follow along in shadow form and try to get an eyes on target, Riggs," Peter looks over to the demolitions expert. "Keep one of your flies with Harrison, and one with Melissa. Stick behind them and follow them in once they're done with external security."

"Got it," Riggs affirms with a nod of his head, then looks down to Peter's cell phone as a text message pops up on the screen. Muscles tense and Riggs' jaw clenches as he eyes the device, and when Peter looks up there's a sharp nod of his head.

"We're on," Peter states as his body sinks down ointo the grass, darkening ink black and disappearing from sight into a pool of shadows that blends into the darkness. A moment afterward, all of the external lights on the facility wink out, including the lights around the security post out front.

"Let's go, Harrison," Harrison. Comes a whispering voice from the shadows, and visible against the sliver of moonlight, a slithering patch of darkness zips through the chain link to cut ahead of Harrison and wait for him in the parking lot. A chain link fence isn't going to do much to stop the titanium man.

Julian's comment earns a quick, curious look from Melissa, but she shrugs, then nods to him. No problem for her. Peter gets a nod as well, before she pulls her pistol and eyes the guard, judging the range. If she can take out the guard from here then just follow along like a good girl, all the better, right? And the range is rather short, but just out of range for her ability. So…shooting it is! She lifts her pistol, taking a moment to get her aim as perfect as she can make it, then the trigger is pulled, not once, but twice, sending hot lead shooting towards the poor man.

As his muscles flex in the moonlight, Harrison looks at the group and says softly, "Be safe…all of you." He turns and begins to run with athletic speed towards the fence. The young man moves with speed, agility, and determination as his adrenaline kicks into high gear. As he continues to run, Harrison's survival instinct kick in and his body goes from flesh to silvery titanium in a blink of an eye. He can no longer run in this form but is luck-a-ly he is at the fence. He reaches out with his glittering arms and grabs the chain link fence and in a grunt pulls it out of the ground. He begins to walk as quickly as he can into the courtyard. He begins to look around for the guards giving them a wolf whistle, "Hello…Avon calling? Have you paid your bill this month?"

Moving along in Melissa's wake, Julian is a quiet presence, and when it comes to shooting guards— well, ma did always say ladies first, and he doesn't point the gun he has taken into his hand before the operative he's working with takes out the sentry. Instead, he scans towards where Harrison is making a show, the glint of titanium easily found even in the nighttime setting, and smirks to himself as they move for the building. His own steps are certain and confident, too familiar with the place to mince around for very long.

There's only broken glass, blood and no silhouette of a security guard in the booth anymore to confirm to Melissa that her aim was true. No vests, no protection, just gunshots that tore through the sentry and sprayed crimson down the opposite glass where some pieces managed not to shatter out from the gunshot.

Having cleared the parking lot and following Harrison's steady, hulking progression through the double-doors he burst through. As the security lights kick on, dimly illuminating an enormous production floor filled with heavy machinery, conveyor belts and tall concrete support pillars that hole up the factory's tall ceiling, Harrison finds that his abrupt entrance has caught the entire night security team unawares.

Screams of confusion fill the air, booted feet scramble from the break room barely visible on the far back of the warehouse, and four gray-uniformed security officers try to make a break for the armory where they left their firearms before going on break. Three more are focused on Harrison's metallic form, pistols held out in threatening gesture towards a man made of titanium and despite this unfortunate juxtaposition of force, they are trying to sound authoratative.

"Get down on the ground! Down on the ground now or we will shoot!" Two of the guards bark over each other, just barely in hearing range as Peter's shadowy form makes its way up to the door and inside behind Harrison, slowly rising up from the darkness to duck behind a tall conveyor belt and sheet metal press, peering up over the belt table and then ducking down again before sinking into the shadows as if they were water and disappearing from sight.

Behind Julian, Riggs carries his duffelbags towards the front doors, eyes scanning the facility thoughtfully on considering the size of the building in full life as opposed to just on paper. Thankfully, there's no surprises in store for him. He stops, skidding to a halt in the parking lot as Julian approaches the doors that Harrison had plowed through and looks back to Melissa. "C'mon!"

Once the guard falls, Melissa is taking off after the others, careful to keep the pistol pointed upward so she doesn't accidentally shoot anyone who's on her side. So far she seems fine. The pain meds doing their job, and no use of her power yet to drain her, so she won't be stopping until she catches up with the others.

As his silver eyes look on the guards, Harrison begins to walk towards the men with his arms spread. "Now guys…listen…you seem like good men doing your job. Yet this is not the place to be…these are not good people your working for…so you have a few choices…one…run? two…run faster? three…" He sighs knowing that some of the people he is with can kill with not a second thought, "You could have worse." He grins a bit wolfishly, "How about a hug?" As the silver man spreads his well defined arms wide waiting for the bullets to fly at him.

Wise time for Julian to have hesitated, because the deafening sound of multiple firearms discharging at once fills the factory as the three security agents open fire on Harrison. There's shoswers of sparks, the noise of ricocheting gunfire and horrified expressions on the security team's faces as they try to walk backwards away from Harrison's gleaming metallic form. Direct hits to his chest, arms and head result in nothing but those sparks, not even a scratch in his metallic surface.

When one of the security team tries to use his radio to call ahead for help, the squeal of signal distortion crackling over the speaker causes him to startle and drop the plastic walkie to the floor. When it hits, there's a ripple of shadow right beside it, and rising up from behind one of the security guards, Peter Petrelli looks like little more than a black silhouette until flickering lights come back on erratically, and one arm wraps around the guard's throat in a chokehold.

Peter grabs the guard's gun hand and wrestles his handgun away from him, then fires at one of the other three men, shooting him squarely in the chest. The vest stops the bullet, sending the guard down to the ground, winded. But when the other security officer turns, Peter releases his chokehold and free-falls backwards, hitting the floor as if it were nothing but water and being swallowed by his own shadow that snakes between the heavy machinery.

When Melissa blows past Julian and comes inside, she arrives just in time to see four more security team menbers coming out from the back room, one of them boasting a pump-action shotgun and three more with assault rifles. Higher caliber bullets all around could potentially start putting dents in Harrison, and at one-hundred feet in distance from Melissa makes a good shot harder to manage.

Behind Melissa, Riggs comes rushing in, skidding onto his knees as he slides the first duffelbag towards the middle of the building across the stone floor, then unzips the second and removes pre-constructed plastic-explosive charges wired to electronic detonators. Staying crouched, Riggs maneuvers over to the first of the three support columns, using it both as cover and something equally practical as he affixes the brick of plastique to the base, and activates the signal receiver for the remote detonator.

Peering around the corner of the pillar, Riggs watches as a shotgun explodes with gunfire, followed by another cha-chak and a second blast. There is nothing but showering sparks and a slight knockback that staggers Harrison two or three steps, and that — right there — has Riggs' brows lifting up. That's a big, shiny, nigh-invulnerable, bulls-eye.

Melissa skids to a stop just as she sees more people coming in. More people to deal with, yet too far away for anything but her gun to be any good. At least from this range. She keeps close to the wall, turned sideways, making herself as small a target as she can manage while she makes her way towards Harrison, intending to use him as a shield. But until then, the pistol comes up again, the trigger pulled as she shoots towards the guards. Bang, bang, bang! It's cover fire, yes, but if she can take out one or two of them in the process, all the better.

As the onslaught of bullets begin, Harrison frowns at the guards and waves a silver finger at the men. "I guess you decided for the worse. I did warn you." He begins to step towards them men shooting at him when he is cast a few steps by the impact of higher grade guns and bullets. He turns his attention towards those men and says, "Now that might have hurt…if I was normal. That was not nice at all." Harrison ignores the bullets just causing him sparks as he begins to walk as quickly as he can towards the men with the bigger guns. He sees Melissa making an attempt to move towards him as he diverts his path slightly towards her direction and towards the men with bigger guns. "Stay close behind me…those shot guns can bounce back off me."

Letting Melissa take prime position behind the walking shield that is Harrison, Julian is last to close in, but he does so swiftly, back bowed and boots pounding the ground in long, loping treads though he focuses on trying to be quiet and undetected. His bare shoulder hits one of the supports, sinking into a crouch as he risks a peak towards the new arrival of security guards. Hearing the sounds of bullets going ping off the younger man's supernatural flesh, Julian remains crouched and hidden, gun unused.

There's a startled shout from one of the security guards, crumpling to the ground for no injury that the Messiah team inflicted. There is blood blossoming from his untorn shirt from where the scar of some old surgery opens up like a flower, uniform flooding black, rust-toned blood.

Writhing on the ground and choking blood in the back of his throat, the security guard under the pall of Julian's degeneration twists and kicks on the floor, his eyes wrenched shut and fingers curled against his palm as blood pools out from beneath his body, slicking the floor as a shadow darts over the growing crimson stain.

That shadow slithers beneath the security guards, going for the armory that they have their backs to. Harrison's steady, plodding approach is like something out of a horror movie, the pondrously slow invincible monster being riddled with bullets that just keeps coming. Another shotgun blast flattens a slug against Harrison's chest, and while the gunfire does nothing for his body, his clothing is being shredded by the bullets.

Catching sight of Riggs, one of the assault-rifle wielding men turns and pops off three shots as the Jamaican is scrambling across the floor. Two of the shots impact concrete and shatter, a third buzzes so close to Riggs' head that he instinctively grabs at his ear and flinches away, landing on his side on the floor. "Melissa, the bag! Open it!" Riggs shouts, squirming across the floor and ducking under a disabled conveyor belt away from the gunfire, eyes wrenched shut as he extends his consciousness elsewheres.

Inside of the bag, Melissa Pierce can hear a loud buzzing.

When Harrison moves to try to make it easier for Mel to hide behind him, she darts forward, not quite back to back with him. And luckily, it means she's a little closer to the guards, which gives her more options. However, before she can decide whether to keep shooting or cut loose with her ability, Riggs is shouting at her. There's a faint grimace, but she reaches down to awkwardly open the bag, refusing to drop the gun to do it. At the last second she remembers the rest of the instructions, and turns her head away.

The movement causes her to catch sight of one of the guards, and she focuses, not on the room at large, but just on him, hurting him as badly as she can. If nothing else, it will keep him distracted while the things in the bag do their thing. Cooperation at its best, ladies and gents.

As his clothes get the brunt of the attack, Harrison is moving towards the men with the biggest guns still. He gets to the closest one with a shot gun and he reaches out to grab it. Harrison says, "Last warning moron." He takes the shot gun and it bends like he is folding a piece of paper. The shot gun bent and now turned into an L shape is thrown to the floor. The sound of the buzzing behind Harrison causes his to turn his head and look away from the men attacking the group.

There's a thunderous cacophony of gunfire from Julian's corner as he abruptly releases three, four, five bullets towards the guards — they go wild and often, enough to be a visible problem and enough to show them how his clip goes empty before the degenerator is ducking back behind his hiding place, casting a glance for the rest of his group. Another fit of hacking coughs has him shuddering, head resting back against the pillar, and half-shutting his eyes as his power puts out feelers for the nearest enemy, to pry open his wounds and draw the blood out like bleeding's going out of style before they can actually get to him. His hands numbly go about releasing the emptied clip and sliding in the fresh one.

Shell casings rattle on the ground from Julian's burst of gunfire dropping one of the security team from a shot to the knee. That's all it takes for Julian's power to latch hold, finding the gunshot wound and psychically wrenching it open, increasing blood flow and finding an older long since healed wound in his thigh from service overseas. Blood blossoms dark against black pants and a scream rises high from the guard's throat as Julian's merciless ability picks him apart.

The bare glimpse Melissa got of the bag's contents when she opens it reveal what looks like a paper mache egg about the size of a grapefruit. Untrained eyes would not recognize the distinct wafery appearance of a paper wasp nest, but the noise of a hive of angry bees being stirred to life by the power of an insect telepath is more than enough to evoke the instinctual human horror of stinging insects. Rising like a tide from the inside of the bag, hundreds of thin-bodied black wasps rise up at Riggs' command, their long and spindly legs dangling below their bodies, wings rapidly buzzing as they swarm the security guards. Panicked screams and irrational fear has two of the men dropping their weapons and begging for surrender in the face of the insectile onslaught.

As if Harrison's warning of bending and breaking a shotgun with his bare hands wasn't enough, the bees certainly threw everything together nicely. The remainign armed guard throws down his gun and runs screaming, trying to swat the wasps away from his body as the controlled cloud continues to work. Riggs cracks a thin smile, hissing a breathy exhalation out as he squirms from beneath the conveyor belt and runs full-speed thorugh the factory floor, while others are back up against walls, trying to swat away the insect hordes.

Riggs finds where he had slid the other bag, pulling himself up into a crouch as he unzips the duffelbag and pulls up the brick of C-4, affixing it to the next column and arming the remote detonator. One last thing is retrieved from this bag, a round and heavy metallic canister with smaller metal cylinders attached to it, looking like some connection of different kinds of air canisters, but the hazard symbols showing fire on them likely imply something else.

Riggs lays the bomb down on the ground with a metallic clink, then shoves it with both hands, sending it sliding towards the middle of the building. Taking a knee, Riggs' offers one thumbs up and starts to flee back towards the exit. Easy as that in a way.

When one of the security team flees into the armory, he runs head on into Peter Petrelli, finding a clothesline awaiting him that knocks him off of his feet, even as Peter warily eyes Riggs' barely controlled swarm of wasps. "How're we doing out there?" Peter asks loudly, relieving the armory of a pair of M-16s to add to Messiah's cache, one slung over each shoulder.

With the guards screaming for their lives and scrambling away, it actually seems like things may have been this easy. may have been this smooth. Is this what it's like when multiple Evolved work in concert together? Peter knows the result of that, recalling the brutally short battle of Marion Island during Operation Apollo. This may not have quite been the same, but it has been equally brutal in its efficiency.

Bees? Well, at least it isn't spiders, because if it was, Melissa would be looking as silly as the guards who are running around and swatting at the flying insects. "So far so good!" she calls back to Peter, leaning around Harrison to fire another shot at a guard, trying to help keep them busy so everyone can get out all safe and sound.

Harrison turns his attention back towards Peter voice, and yells, "I will stay behind and exit as the bomb goes off so I am not caught in the rubble. I want to make sure no one is hiding and comes out to disable it as we run off. I will exit behind you." Harrison stays with Melissa acting as her shield until she walks/runs/flies. "Go go go."

As the guards scatter under both fire and threat of severe bee, they flee out of Julian's range, which has North Irish opening his eyes again and letting a smile grease across his pale face. The last of those puppeted under his power finally give up into death or blood loss, pools of the sticky liquid flooding out from their prone forms, and with the stiff litheness of an aging cat, the pasty-faced terrorist pushes himself back up out of his crouch.

"Aye. We clear to fuck off, Petrelli?" he calls out on the back of Harrison and Melissa's report.

"Riggs!?" Peter shouts across the building as gunfire pops off behind him, fleeing guards scream for dear life and dying guards scream for the same only with more immediate urgency in their croaking tones. Riggs gives those double-thumbs up again as he sprints for the double doors, and when the man planting explosives is running, it's likely a good idea that everyone get clear. Peter disappears down into his own shadow again, snaking across the floor and towards that same exit while Harrison slowly reverses his course, like a big shiny tank trundling back out of the building.

The bees lose much of their cohesive form when Riggs abandons them, and the stinging insects scatter around the building, most of them flying high towards the warm upper floor near the ceiling while some are in the process of dying thanks to having stung the security guards, a process expedited by Julian's proximity.

As Melissa, Peter and Julian follow Riggs out of the building, Harrison's slow progression out is to ensure that the security guards don't get any bright ideas, and they do. One of the bleeding and screaming guards unholsters a pistol from his hip, firing parting shots at the escaping Messiah team. What should have been shots aimed at Melissa's back turns into more sparks and ricochets bouncing off of Harrison as he interposes as best as he can, blocking line of fire and serving as a slowly moving barricade against the gunfire.

Once the team has cleared to the parking lot Riggs is on his cell phone. "Go, go, go pull it!" It's not a big cartoonish plunger detonator or even some sleek hand-held thing, it's a phone call to Rebel that sets everything off, before Harrison has even entirely left the building. Riggs' heard his request and it's not his concern if Iron Man wants to play in the rubble.

The first explosion is a dull bass thump that shakes the outer walls of the building but doesn't break them. It isn't a flashy Hollywood firey explosion, but rather a deep rumble that shakes the building, blows out the windows and sends clouds of dust spraying with small shards of broken glass. What comes next is an impossibly loud crumbling sound as the weight of the top of the building, no longer supported by concrete struts, comes crashing down on the upper part of the building, a tremendous implosion that creates a tidal wave of gray dust and stone debris rolling from the building as fast as a speeding car.

The cloud of dust swallows the team, followed by an unearthly orange glow in the dust when the second explosion goes off, igniting the napalm canister that Riggs had set up inside of the building, creating a layer of liquid fire under the stone to melt to slag anything that may have survived the implosion.

Coughing and choking mixed with laughter comes from Riggs as the dust cloud starts to part, giving way to slender shafts of pale moonlight. On one knee in the parking lot, ducked down behind a car, Riggs is practically laughing like a Hyena after the explosion thanks to his wheezing from the dust.

Coated in the gray concrete dust, Peter brushes off his clothing, wiping the powder from his face and eyes with bare hands, nervously looking around to try and assess everyone's condition. His eyes find Melissa first, her dark hair coated with the concrete powder, then Julian amidst the rolling clouds of smoky debris, Riggs' laughter means he's fine, and then standing silhouette by the burning ruins, Harrison's titanium body is partly caked with stone dust, glinting with the firelight that spills through the cracks from the demolished building, clothing dirty and tattered, hanging is scraps from his body.

Good call on that second pair of underwear.

Oh yes, Melissa can run. She's already dealt with one too many explosions this week thank you very much. But she does slow, then stop when Riggs does, giving her head a shake to knock off some of the dust, only to wince at the sharp movement. Her gun is slid back into its holster, and she glances back at the burning building. For a moment she does nothing more than stare at it, no emotion on her face, then she mutters softly, "I hate fucking explosions." That said, she turns to start walking back to the car, whether the others follow for now or not.

As he walks out of the building, and he is clear of the debris, Harrison forces his body to return to flesh as he cracks his neck and brings a hand to his shoulder, "That hurt dude. Was that napalm AND C4? I had seen it on TV but holy hell in a hand basket." Harrison looks down down at his clothes and he is barely covered at this point. His arse is not covered at all as he walks towards the car. He groans softly, "I am gonna feel that in awhile."

"Fuck me. My car's never gonna be clean again," complains the dust-coloured silhouette that is Julian Kuhr as he watches everyone start to head back to the sedan. Turning to walk backwards a few paces, his squints to watch the building burn, scarred smile broadening. It's a beautiful thing, and maybe prettier to watch than Harrison's ass, if you asked Julian. But he twists to walk the right way around, a hand clapping down on Riggs' (clothed, thankfully) shoulder in a comrade's gesture of good job, before following, tucking his gun back into his holster.

"Best thing next to a fuel-air bomb, man." Riggs states with a crack of a smile at the pat on his shoulder, "I sent tha' baby out to Chicago, I figure… what doesn't break, burns." Brushing the dust off of himself, Riggs looks to the smoldering building with flames burning beneath the rubble in pockets of oxygen, then turns towards the toppled fence that Harrison tore down, cracking a smile. "Effieicnt enough for you, Petrelli?"

Peter's lips make a faint suggestion of a smile, but distant brown eyes stay focused on the rubble, looking like he just took a bath in concrete. "Yeah…" Peter murmurs, looking at the flames lapping up from the building as the other members of Messiah begin making the short trek back to where Julian's car is parked on the road approaching the now demolished facility. It will be a long flight back to New York from here, and by the time they reach the Empire state again it will be late in the morning. But thoughts of the future aren't so much on Peter's mind as concerns for the present are.

His dark eyes track across his compatriots, Riggs and Julian, then to Harrison's shredded clothing and aching muscles sore from exertion, and then finally to Melissa's deferential and cold retreat. It's not so much her posture that worries him, but the way her hands won't stop trembling.

"Yeah…" Peter murmurs again to himself, "efficient."

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