Long Division


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Scene Title Long Division
Synopsis In arithmetic, long division is the standard procedure suitable for dividing simple or complex multidigit numbers.
Date October 7, 2010

Howland Hook Facility

"…know what the hell you were thinking!?"

The sound of an argument can already be heard halfway down the hall of the Howland Hook administrative buildings' vacant corridors. That Peter Petrelli is shouting at the top of his lungs is evident from as far away as the ground floor, and up two flights of stairs and down a corridor where an emergency meeting is to be held, there's already tensions flaring and hardly anyone has arrived yet.

"Don't get up on my ass about this Petrelli! There were fucking DHS guys everywhere and I had already made like six fucking jumps!" Kristian Bender's voice is higher pitched, younger sounding, cracking at the high notes when he returns fire to Peter with equal vitriol. "I didn't see you there risking your ass with the rest of us! I didn't see you almost burst into flames trying to get everyone to safety! Where the fuck were you when Edgar needed you!?"

In the conference room, which amounts to little more than an empty warehouse office with a folding poker table in the middle set under hanging lights, Peter Petrelli looks like — without much surprise — he hasn't gotten much sleep in the last few days. Standing right up next to him with a finger pointed in his face, Kris is not backing down from their argument.

"I was following orders," Peter growls back, stepping forward and closer to Kris, only to be shoved back by the younger man with both hands against Peter's shoulder. When Peter winds up his fist and gets ready to lay in to the teleporter, there's a sudden rush of air, followed by West Rosen insinuating himself between both arguing men, one hand puishing Kris back at the chest and the other held out towards Peter.

The air displaced by the flyer's descent from the exposed rafters tosses loose papers off the table. "Stop it!" West howls with his brows lowered. "We can't waste our energy fighting eachother!"

Oh this is going to be a great meeting.

It will be entertaining, at least. Lynette makes her way in somewhere in the middle of the arguing, but doesn't have a chance to step in before West does it for her. But, she perches herself on the table, looking as calm and collected as ever, if more tired than usual herself.

"Honestly, boys, girls like it so much better when you do all this pushing and shoving shirtless." The smile on her face is meant to be disarming, perhaps even defusing.

Discord and strife are often better than the alternatives, when the alternatives are complacency and surrender. Pericles Jones takes, as always, a philosophical view of matters. He's been out of the picture a bit himself, though, so it's easy for him to do that. Distance breeds abstraction, abstraction breeds distance. It's a self supplying loop. But he's here now, shoulders a bit slouched, lanky limbs at angles to the wall against which he leans. Brown eyes peer out from behind his dark, unfashionable frames. Lynette's comment gets a blank look. What does she mean? He couldn't begin to guess. He doesn't intervene, though. It's not his place to stem this antagonism. He doesn't know all the particulars, after all.

Lynette's tone of voice does cause some of the virtiol to drain out of both Peter and Kris as the two men back down, Kris turning taway from West and snorting noisily, running one hand over the back of his neck as he paces around the office floor. Arriving late behind Lynette, Risa — who happens to share a last name with Lynette's first name — stands in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at Kris and Peter, her slim frame narrowed further by arms wrapped around herself.

Peter looks up to Lynette, then over to Risa, then exhales a steady sigh and steps away from the folding table, sweeping both hands over his head to brush his bangs out of his face. West of all people seems to be taking charge of the meeting, looking up to Lynette and over to Perry with a worried expression.

"Alright I— I'm sorry I called everybody here like this, but going thorugh Rebel was the only way I could think to do it." Lifting up one hand to rub at his cheek, West looks around the meeting room. "God, I don't even know where everyone is. Has anyone seen Knox or Riggs? Claire?"

Risa shakes her head in slow answer to the question, looking down to her feet as she does, walking in to the meeting room. Peter turns, looking up to West, then down to the floor. "I haven't seen Claire at all. I know she went on the hunt for Mayes, but nobody saw her come back. Kris didn't find her either."

Kris shoots an accusing stare to Peter, brows leveled low. "Where the fuck is Huruma too? I told you what happened there, it was either her or another empath! Where the fuck is Rupert?"

"No, Peter, I'm glad you did. Because I don't know how many of you are following the news? But I'm pretty sure we're pretty screwed. And I, for one, would sort of like to know what we're going to do from here." Lynette crosses one leg over the other, glancing over at the others, but her gaze falls on Peter. "None of them have come by my place, but I've also been laying sort of low. So, I haven't seen anyone."

"The weakness of others must be our strength," Perry opines grimly and with maybe a little too much gravitas. Apparently he only has a couple settings - stammeringly nervous, stammeringly excited, and excessively grave. Which may explain why he's not a hit at parties. "We don't need people who will flinch from the cause. Fairweather friends are a liability in times of crisis. And this, I take it, is a time of crisis." As much one can tell, as Lynette stated, from the news. "Perhaps this group lacked a clear purpose. Maybe those others were confused as to why we are here, and what we are doing." He's talking to the room, to everyone, though his eyes are pointed at a spot somewhere beneath the ground before him, pointed at nothing at all.

Peter's attention is diverted to Perry for a moment, brown eyes scanning the younger man with a hint of reservation and uncertainty. "Speaking of fair weather" may not entirely be the most fair assessment of things, but Peter's bad mood seems to be taken out on anyone around him that he can find, and right now it's Pericles Jones.

"Peter," is West admonishing the manw ho should be taking charge right now, but is too wound-up in his own frustration to do that necessary job. Looking to lynette, he motions for the blonde to come in, and as West paces around the meeting room, he has his hands laced at the back of his neck. "Jesse's dead," West informs, for those who did not hear on the news. "Claire's missing but none of the government agencies have claimed responsibility yet. Huruma… didn't respond to the summons and didn't show up, which— it makes me nervous knowing that."

Leaning up against the wall, Kris crosses his arms over his hcest, offering an askance look to Perry, then one to Peter, ignoring West entirely. "I saw Knox last a few weeks ago, he was down in the Rookery. I don't think he noticed me, but he was havin' a meeting with that girl from Phoenix. The daughter of the lady who was runnin' for mayor and got murdered?"

"Cat?" That notion has one of Peter's brows lifting as he looks to Kris. "You saw Knox and Cat talking?" Kris' response is just a humble shrug of his shoulders and a dip of his head into a nod.

"Where's Ash?" Risa asks as she speaks up, moving to stand beside Lynette and offer the blonde a weary smile, one hand alighting just long enough to sweep dark lock of hair from her face. Risa's question is something West can answer, and when he turns to her it's with a thankfully light tone of voice.

"Ash is downstairs, he took some pretty serious injuries the other day. Sasha was patching him up, I think he was asleep. He might come up later. So that… leaves Claire, Huruma, Rupert, and Knox as completely MIA. Julian is out in Chicago… What about Thalia? Rickham?" West looks around the room. "Charity?" His brows lift slowly. "Griffin, Melissa… Ling?"

"I went by Melissa's house, I didn't see anyone there and the lights were out," is Peter's grimly noted answer with a slow shake of his head. "Government folks hadn't come by from the looks of it, but everyone was gone. I figure they might have run off after Edgar got grabbed. Griffin called me and told me he'd be here… I duno if he got held up or not."

"Everyone's scared. Things went wrong. It could be as simple as trying not to stick their heads out right now. Or running for some kind of cover. It doesn't necessarily mean they're fairweather friends." Lynette does make her way deeper in with the others, glancing over at Risa when a little nod. But there's something… bothering her. "Peter. What did you mean, following orders? Aren't you the guy giving the orders?" She's still new, after all.

Perry's gaze rises to meet the accusation in Peter's eyes, his muddy stare impassive behind his thick prescription lenses. He looks… unabashed. Not quavering as one might expect. He doesn't say anything, though, in his own defense. West is handling that, and really… maybe he doesn't have anything to say. Where has he been? Nowhere special. Gloomily haunting his miserable little apartment, while others have fought and died.

"Huruma operates under a code of strength," Perry informs everybody, as if he's got some sort of special insight, "maybe she's perceived this group as weak. Maybe winning her back is a matter of proving we are not."

Lynette's question draws his attention for a moment, and she's just done talking when he adds his own two cents - an abundance of spare pennies he's got today, it seems. "Disorganization seems to be a pervasive problem. And I am still unclear as to what our ultimate goals are. Are we just behaving as reactionaries? As interventionists? Or are we trying to move towards seizing some real power?" His tone makes it pretty clear that he'd much rather this last.

"Maybe if you'd been around more you would've— " Peter is cut off by a look from West, but the younger man doesn't intercede more, instead allowing for Peter to finish his train of thought, perhaps with less vitriol. "We have a goal, it's getting Nathan out of power and instituting a proper government. Rupert— " Peter pauses, brows furrowed and expression distant. "We… we made a plan," and now for the life of him, peter is only now realizing that he can't quite recall what any of that plan is.

Staring vacantly ahead, Peter blinks once and then looks away, lifting his hand to his head as he slouches down, then throws his weight into an open folding chair behind him, looking both dazed and disoriented. West is quick to try and recover, playing the role Peter normally does to Rupert.

"What we need to focus on right now is laying low. There's only so many of us right now and we've all been dealt a pretty thourough blow. Rebel says that he can't tell where Rupert is at the moment, so we're cut off from part of our leadership. What we don't know is how the authorities connected Rupert to anything, or which of us have our names on their list. So we all need to be exceedingly careful for those of us who're still living in the public eye." Or were in West's case.

"What're we going to do about Edgar? I can't teleport somewhere I ain't been before, and I sure as hell don't even know where they're kepeing him." Kris' brown eyes sweep around the room, then over to Peter with one brow raised. "You got anything, oh fearless leader?"

Peter's response is islence, lowering his head into his hands and sliding his fingers up through his dark hair, breathing in deeply before he exhales a heavy sigh and shakes his head. "Rebel's going to pinpoint whoever he can, and we're going to need to try and reconnect once the heat dies down. I don't…"

He didn't answer Lynette's question.

Lynette's hand comes to rest on Peter's shoulder, a bit of comfort there, maybe. "Alright, Peter, you need to calm down," she says, a little less comforting there, "I know you're in a bad boat right now, but so are we all. Same boat." She looks over at Kris, too, pointing a finger in his direction, too, "You, too, Sparky." It's… an ironic nickname at best.

"I mean, we all signed up to be terrorists. Getting arrested for the explosions and assassination attempts, it sort of goes with the territory. Now, that being said, if we can find a way to get Edgar out, we should give it a shot. never leave a man behind, I'm sure I've heard something like that somewhere. Maybe, though, this time, it can be a group planning session, hmm?" There's a little glance to Peter there. It's a friendly poke, is all! Complete with a crooked smile.

She looks over Perry's way, her arms folding as she does. "I suppose we need a little restructuring. Something more organized. Less 'need to know'."

"I am self employed," Perry says, tonelessly, "I can disappear easily. I'm not registered, either," hell, he doesn't know what he can do, "I doubt I'll come under suspicion. And my door is open should anyone need harboring." See? He's helping! Peter's aspersions earn the man another look, but still no reply, again, likely because there's no defense to be made. At least none that would hold any water with anyone who isn't Pericles Jones.

Lynette's glance is met as she makes her suggestion. Perry gives a single nod. "I second that motion," he says, "for transparency and a discussion of reorganization. Which means we now have a vote before us. Lacking clear leadership, I assume that is acceptable?"

"Rupert and Peter are still our leaders," is West's firm explanation of defiancre to Perry's call of a vote. "Look, we just— Lynette's right, Edgar knew the risks when he signed up for this. If we can get him out of holding, we should. But the problem is, we don't know where they're detaining him. Rebel hasn't picked up any information to his location, and DHS has likely gotten wise that we have a technopath and are doing whatever they can to stay off our radar. We're…"

Peter looks up to Lynette, flashing her a thankful, if somewhat weary, smile. "We need to work together, Perry's right." Mostly is Peter's unspoken qualifier. "We don't have enough information to figure out where Edgar is, but we should get on that. I… I was going to recruit Edgar for something, but I think given the circumstances I might need some of your help with something."

West and Kris both arch a brow at Peter's sentiment, while Risa passes Perry a thoughtful look. Though Peter's plan itself seems… odd. "I want to get inside Rupert's house, bring Risa with me, and sweep the place for information. She's a postcognitive and can show other people images of the past. Maybe there's some… clue, something Rupert did there that can help us figure out what the hell happened and where he is."

An askance look is angled towards Risa, one brow raised. "I'll need other volunteers, more eyes to see what Risa shows us. Would you be willing to help out?" It's odd, that Peter is recommending the use of a postcognitive to find out where Rupert is, but not for tracking down Edgar.

Lynette gives a nod toward Perry, appreciating his second. "Exactly. We need the round table set up, not the chain of command. I'm not saying Peter isn't still the lead, I'm just saying… I think one of the reasons this room is missing so many people right now is because we weren't fully informed and we'd like to be." She looks over at West, her arms folding a bit. "As for Rupert? I don't see him anywhere, do you? And seeing as he's supposed to be one of the leaders, and he hasn't been arrested as far as we know, then where they hell is he?"

She looks back at Peter, though, as he goes on, a hand moving to her hip. "Hun, I'm not sure that's such a great idea. Anyone showing up at Rupert's place… I mean, they're probably watching it now, just in case he comes back, right? Or anyone else does. You'd be practically turning yourself in. Can't do anything about your brother or Edgar or Rupert if you get caught. West said it best earlier, we need to lay low for a while."

Perry is more and more attending to what Lynette has to say. He has pushed himself up from his lean, his arms folding loosely in front of him, one hand lifting to pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You expect a great deal… loyalty at a time like this, without transparency or agency?" His eyes cut from Peter's face to West's, "I'm not saying I am wavering. I am committed. But I will need to know what I am committed to. And…" he looks to Lynette, whose name he doesn't know, "I don't think it's unreasonable to at the very least temporarily change the structure of command. Until such time as our leadership is accounted for." One way or another.

"I will go, though, if you need eyes. I have a pair, myself, that I can spare." …joke?

Exhaling a shuddering sigh, Peter lifts his hand to his forehead, stroking fingers over his brow as his lips press together firmly, then brown eyes shift to the side before upturning to Perry. "You know for someone who hasn't been actively assisting in our operations for a while you sure have a lot to say about commitment." Peter's dark brows tense as he pushes himself up from his chair. "No, Lynette's right it— I can't ask you all to go to Rupert's. We should lay low for the time being, see who shows back up and just…"

Trailing off, Peter stares down at the table, his expression distant. It's only when Kris speaks up that he seems to snap back to reality. "Actually," the teleporter leans off the wall, "I think I kinda' like what Perry's selling here. You and Rupert have fucked us, Petrelli. We got that kid killed, Edgar is in God knows what fucking new Moab they're building for us, and you can't even keep track of your own men."

"Kristian," Risa practically hisses, the Russian hint of her accent sounding sharper with the delivery of his name, her eyes wide in disbelief. "We're all upset, this— right now isn't the time to be pointing fingers or/ making any hasty decisions. This is //exactly what happened to my people after Norman was killed. We— we broke apart at the seams."

Risa's wide, frightened brown eyes seem large on her delicate face as she warily looks around the room. "Let's— we shouldn't jump to…"

"No one's jumping to conclusions," West tries to take the middle ground, "let's just— we have a lot of people missing right now and we shouldn't make any snap judgements about what's happened to them. It's only been two days. I say we put our ears to the ground and see who we can find then maybe— I dunno— we just can't jump to any decisions yet., and Risa's right about that."

"It's probably the best we can do for now," Lynette says with a nod to West, "Until we find the others, find out who's still on board and who isn't… and find out which of us are about to get knocks on our door. We need to find out what we can about Edgar's situation before they make him the fall guy for all of this mess. Not to mention, Peter, you look like you could use a break to sleep or something. But," and that brings her attention back to West again, "Whatever happens? When the dust settles? We're all going to sit down and have this chat about restructuring." Pushy pushy.

Third time's the charm, to misuse the idiom. Perry reaches up and removes his glasses, before pressing the back of his hand to his eyes, face drawing. "I… lack confidence in the rigor of this operation," he says, painfully, as if each word were a bandage he's tearing loose from a not-yet-healed wound, "the philosophical rigor, specifically. I have found our motivations to be knee jerk at best and often simply insipid."

He slowly replaces his glasses, pushing them back up his nose again before looking at Peter, looking somewhere between tired and apologetic. "I would not be here if I didn't have hope in the potential of this group. But for an organization called Messiah, I have found little that is revelatory or redemptive in what we have done. We need a unity of purpose, and understanding that we are doing more than fighting injustice. Not that that is not important. Only that that is a… negative position. We need a… negation of the negation. A positivity. A universal."

Woah. That's about as much as Perry's ever said that didn't involve discussing the demolition of a building. He looks quite tired after all that. His head hangs slightly.

"Of course, maybe I just missed the meeting where one was laid out. I admit, that's a possibility."

As for Lynette's suggestion… Perry is not about to actively reiterate. But he may well want to speak to this agitator when this meeting is done. He appreciates her desires, though he needs to be more clear about her ends, and her ideological underpinnings.

He was late due to a long overdue basketball game with his son that was promised before the meeting was announced; Griffin let his boy win (after showing him a few tricks). This fact was assisted by the fact that Griffin's eyes were more on the horizon, looking to see if anyone was coming for him, in order to make a quick escape if neccessary. Not to mention, the stitches in his side. Thankfully, the game went beautifully, with no signs of trouble, and Owain was safely deposited at home to do his homework, while Griff left for his meeting.

The click of his cane against the floor of the hallway is the first indication of his arrival. Wearing another one of his suits, he quietly enters, clearing his throat apologetically. "Apologies for being late." He glances around at the rather paltry gathering, one eyebrow lifting. With a slight wince, he lifts his left arm and removes the fedora that rests atop his head, lingering in the doorway for a moment.

He looks rather…displeased, to say the least, when he doesn't see the man he wanted to speak to the most. "What have I missed?" He frowns faintly, and a small, respectful nod is offered in Lynette's direction.

Griffin's arrival servs as a bridge between conversations, an interruption of Perry's prostylizing to the choir. There's a lot of tension in the air, something settled on a proverbial knife's edge that has begun and ended with the words that were coming from Pericles' mouth just a moment ago. Kris is silent at first, like the others, on Griffin's arrival. But ultimately, he is the first person to speak up.

"Perry's got a point. We need t'figure out what the hell it is we're doing. All we've been doing is running around and blowing shit up and praying that you and Carmichael had a goddamned plan." Tension and frustration rises again, and Kris takes a few steps towards Peter. "So what it is, Petrelli, do you have a plan? Or do we maybe need to re-think this whole situation?"

Tension rises as Peter lifts his hands to his head, brows furrowed and stress lines creasing his forehead. "It's not— I don't— Perry's— " Peter sounds like a man being jerked in two different directions at once. In truth, he is. What Andrew Mitchell had told Matthew Parkman was indeed true, that Rupert Carmichael worked Peter over for weeks with his ability, restructuring his mind and building whole new pathways of thought compliant with the notion of Messiah and his role in it.

Pericles Jones is crossing wires, flipping levers, and opening doors that had long since been sealed shut.

Peter's silence is strained, and Lynette can see the look on his face from her perch by his side, the way his eyes are clenched shut, the way he looks like he's trying to keep his head from popping like a microwaved watermelon.

"Perry's right," is West's reluctant agreement, followed by a shake of his head. "We're— we have to try and re-evaluate our situation. We can't let this group wind up like PARIAH did, with three leaders all vying for power and none of them knowing what to do when crisis came. I…" West looks askance to Peter, then back up to the door to Griffin, waving the man with the cane in. "We're talking about plans for the future, Griffin. Outside of Ash, everyone you see here in this room is all that we can find of Messiah. Everyone else is out of touch and Rebel says he can't tell us where they are."

Risa looks away, shaking her head as she slowly turns. "I will have no part of this. We signed up for Messiah knowing that we had to put faith in our leaders, and now that we are tested we think we have the knowledge to change things?" The tiny, brunette Russian offers an uncertain look up to Griffin, then steps towards him, making a side-step around towards the door.

When Griffin enters, Lynette blinks a little, then returns his nod with a crooked smile. "You know, for a homeless guy, you look pretty good in a suit," she remarks. It is a far cry from the trash-hauling he was doing when they met. But her gaze moves back to Perry, with a nod and thankful expression. At least someone in here makes sense.

But when she glances down to Peter, seeing that looks on his face, the woman frowns and holds a hand out to the others. "Okay, everybody just shut up for five seconds, alright?" Because, hey, they might be completely leaderless if this one's head explodes. Plus she's really close and it would be so gross. That hand comes to Peter's cheek, her expression worried. "Hey, Peter. Jesus, what's the matter?"

When Perry's the one making sense, you know things have gone to hell. Affirmation is, in fact, sort of the last thing he expected. Mr. Jones was waiting to be brushed aside, ignored. That people agree with him is… astounding. And it makes him lose his balance for a second. "I… uh…" he begins, words departing him just as he has some modicum of attention.

Ria's opposition, however, gives him someone specific to talk at. He turns his attention to her, tone becoming vehement. "The current structure has… has proved itself vulnerable. With Carmichael… um-" dammit, Pericles, you had it for a while there! "-with Carmichael gone, we're headless. The- the fact is that we are Messiah right now. Those of us in this room. And… and if it's an issue of knowledge…"

Perry turns to Peter. His lack of social aptitude serves him well for a moment. Lynette's demand for silence is neglected, and Peter's discomfort is not really properly noted. "We deserve to know what you have in mind. I- what I saw, the day of the blackouts- I already know where this is going. I am not going to flinch. But if we're going to get there, we all need the roadmap."

Griffin nods quietly along with West's explanation, stepping in further to allow Risa passage, straightening his suit. "I know that I saw Claire disappear into the crowd. I believe there was another Evolved that I was unaware of involved. The crowd began to panic for no reason, and Claire bolted." He frowns. "I would have gone after her, but— " He frowns quietly, shaking his head.

A small, exhausted smile is turned toward Lynette. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's my preferred method of dress, in fact." He gestures toward her with the fedora, before turning to frown across the occupants of the room.

Then, the man takes a breath, dropping into a seat and rubbing at his right knee for a moment, setting his hat next to him on the table. He then rubs quietly at the bridge of his nose, sighing softly. "A plan would be good, yes." He frowns, glancing over the occupants of the room thoughtfully. Then, his voice concerned, he speaks again. "Does— does anyone know who was on that list they found?"

Risa pauses, just long enough to consider Pericles, her eyes narrowing and brows dropping in a prostesting look, then turns to Peter before turning for the door. The young Russian says nothing else on her way out of the conference room, and it's only after she's gone that Peter is lifting up a hand to try and dismiss Lynette's concerns, fingers lifting to the bridge of his nose and pinching there.

"I don't know," is his answer for everything that was raised. Is he okay? What's the plan? Who's on the list?

I don't know.

Shakily easing himself to his feet, Peter looks around the room with an uncertainty crossing his face, brown eyes training on Griffin for a moment before his attention settles on Kris, watching the young man lifting one brow expectantly.

"I don't know," is Peter's next affirmation, ooking a little bewildered by his position in the room. "I need— I need some air," he whispers to Lynette, moving away from her with shaky footsteps, then finally moving towards Griffin.

"Petrelli, what the hell do you mean you don't know!?" Kris throws his hands down to his side, stomping towards the direction that Messiah's figurehead is moving in. "Peter!" Kris' shouts only urge Peter on forward further, until his body begins to break apart as he gets closer to Griffin, parting around him in a nebulous cloud that looks like it had peter's impage projected on to it for a moment.

Then, swirling around Griffin, Peter carries out into the hall as little more than a wispy cloud of gray smoke. Kris stares vacantly as one of their leaders just up and leaves. Then, perhaps to the young man's horror, Kris affixes a look to Perry.

"What do we do?"

Lynette can really only just… get out of the way. But she watches him leave with flat out worry. "Let him be for a goddamn minute," Lynette says in Kris' direction, "Jesus Christ." And she looks over at Risa, "There's a medic around? Or a healer? I think someone needs to look him over." She doesn't know what is wrong, but something sure is.

Rubbing her own forehead for a moment, she looks over at Perry, too, her shoulders lifting. She's never been in a terrorist organization before. What do you do when there's no one leading, apparently. "In the short term, I think the idea is lay low, don't get caught. All our names might just be on that list, so be careful. And… I have no idea how to find out more about Edgar, but that should be a priority. In the long run… if we're going to stay together, I have a feeling, it might be something of a challenge."

Oh no. Kris did not just turn to Perry for instructions. Horror is precisely the first thing that Perry feels, or at least some shade of dread. This is what he gets for opening his mouth. For all he talks about the negation of the negation, he hasn't reached that second step. Criticism he has. Demands, certainly. But a plan of his own?

He didn't come prepared for this!

Perry's mouth doesn't open with shock, which is probably all that saves him from looking entirely the fool. Instead he keeps it firmly closed, the darkness of his eyes concealing, to some extent, the sudden panic he feels. Thank God, then, that Lynette interposes. She has some immediate ideas, and they sound… good. Philosophically rigrous, maybe not. But philosophical rigor can wait, even Perry can admit that right now. He at least needs some comforting time with his books.

"Yes…" he begins, once again affirming Lynette's suggestion, still much more used to being a follower than a leader of any sort, "if Peter- we- uh-" okay, get it together, "ahem- If- if Peter is-" dammit! "someone… West! West, go after Peter. We need to know if he knows anything. Anything about what the next steps were going to be. Um… you," he points at Lynette, "I don't know you but- but you're right. Staying safe and keeping in contact is the- uh- the most important thing right now. For now, until we- until we can confirm Peter is well enough to reclaim command…" Here goes. He's ready to answer Kris.

"I propose a temporary committee structure. Slow… not useful for operations but- but we need to suspend operations until we consolidate. Until we find who we need to find. Until proper leadership can be restored. Motions, votes. Resolutions as a group. To prevent schism. We- we need to weather this storm."

Griffin tenses as Peter breaks apart and swirls around him, that frown growing on his face. His eyes flash white for a moment as his vectors instinctively summon themselves, before turning to watch over his shoulder as he leaves. Finally, he turns that eerie gaze toward Kris. "Leave him be. Let him get his air." He frowns up at the man for a moment, before his eyes fade back to their normal green glancing after Peter once more.

"I— can't really say much about this situation. I've only been here a few weeks, and I'm quite unsure of my place here." The man frowns, rubbing at his face. What did he get himself into?

West takes a look at Perry with a furrow of his brows, then a click of his tongue before gliding up and over the table like a leaf on the wind and landing down on the other side a little too close to Griffin, offering out upturned palms in a woah sorry flight isn't a science motion before stepping around him. "I'll just— hang out in the hall. He won't go far, I know how he is," West murmurs with a worried look to the door, then back to Lynette. "Sasha's around here somewhere but— Peter should be fine, I mean… he has Claire's regeneration ability, right?"


"I'm good with the idea of a comittee," Kris states flatly, "we'll hang back until we figure out what the hell's going on. I know I'm going to try and find out where Edgar is so we can get him back. But until we know who the fuck's on that list? We need to keep a low profile. They already raided Pete's place and Carmichael's… so who the fuck knows what's next."

Looking up to Griffin, all Kris can do is shake his head. "I dunno man, but we're proper fucked. Jesse's dead, Edgar's captive, Ash is in traction, Claire and a shitload of other people are missing… It's a good thing you spoke up, man," is directed back to Perry, "we needed someone t'take charge've this shit."

"Lynette," she supplies for the man with the plan as he points to her. "Nice to meet you all, finally," she adds dryly. From her back pocket, she pulls out a half empty pack of cigarettes with a lighter tucked inside. "Whatever he knows he'll still know it after he gets a medic to look over him," she adds onto Griffin's words. It might be an ironic statement as she's lighting a cigarette while she says it, but… whatever! To West, she just frowns, "Hell if I know, have you been keeping track? If you don't ask this Sasha to look him over, I sure as hell will so you might as well mention it. Please. It shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience to double check one of our leader's health, right, West?" It's a very friendly please.

Shaking her head, she turns to Perry again. "But you're right. We need a temporary set up that can last through this and keep the baseline of Messiah running. And possibly decide the direction it takes in the future." She's in the same place Griffin is, really, but never has been the type to sit back during a crisis. She looks over at Kris, nodding, "That's for damn sure. Otherwise, all those missing people aren't going to have anything to come back to."

Perry is already starting to recede. He feels badly overextended, his very limited extroversive energy now thoroughly depleted. He gives Kris a quick nod. "It's- it's not about who's in charge. Well, it is but…" oh God, Perry needs to go home and poke around with some electronics or read Nicomachean Ethics or something that is more in his line, "thank you. I hope- I hope this works. We just need to keep our heads," his gaze flicks over to door, through which Peter fled, "until we get back… uh… back on our feet.

"We need to meet again, soon. Everyone… think about what we need to do, what needs to get done. Hopefully by then- well, hopefully there will be positive developments," or no developments at all - that would be almost as good, "we can make resolutions then. For now- stay safe."

Perry gives a very, very dry half chuckle, "if this is Good Friday, then we only need to wait two days to rise again."

When West hesitates to follow after Peter, Griffin lets out a grunt, rubbing at his face. Then, he raises to his feet, tucking his cane under one arm and snagging his fedora. "I'd rather not see any ill befall Peter. He— he's a good man." He's not sure he can even get Peter to speak to him, but it's certainly worth an attempt. His eyes flush white as he raises up from his seat, his feet also raising off of the ground.

Briefly, the man glances to West, smiling faintly.

Then, Griffin is gliding out of the room, dull thuds sounding against the floors and walls as he exits the conference room, before turning and following after Peter at a swift glide, the thuds coming a bit more quickly in the hallway as he pursues the leader of this 'organization', who he has met a grand total of one time.

The room falls silent, with so many left and a decision made. Kris lets his dark eyes sink down to the floor while West watches Griffin depart, turning his focus over to Lynette, and then Perry. "I'm… I'm going to go look for Sasha, then…" he seems lost, like so many people in Messiah were before they joined the organization, like so many people have become on seeing it start to fall apart at the seams.

Messiah, however, is not the plans of Rupert Carmichael or the leadership of Peter Petrelli, it is not the buildings it has destroyed or the lives it has claimed in the sanction of an uprising. No, Messiah is the hearts beating in every chest of every member, the blood pumping in their veins and their desire for freedom.

Even if Messiah was build on a corrupt foundation, the ideal of Messiah remains pure. But if the infection were cut out, if the impurity of the organization could be expelled like a cancer. What would be left?

The blood they spill.

The war they fight.

The future.

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