There's No Place Like Home, Part I


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Scene Title There's No Place Like Home, Part I
Synopsis The Lost 8 gather together to make their way home, but have one final confrontation awaiting them before they arrive…
Date May 14, 2019

Pinehearst Tower

One hundred and sixty seven floors tall, the Pinehearst Tower dominates the skyline of Manhattan. Constructed on the northern edge of the Unity National Park, this cylindrical glass tower shines with hundreds of green tinted windows, and the structural framing between the windows glitter with the reflective surface of solar paneling that covers the structure.

The Pinehearst Tower is a self-sufficient urban arcology, complete with its own power plant, solar paneling and wind turbines, several shopping centers, interior parks and hydroponic gardens and living quarters for roughly two thousand employees of the Pinehearst Company. This structure was designed as an archetype to showcase cutting-edge "green technology" and was crafted by a predominantly Evolved workforce, cutting the construction time and cost by leaps and bounds.

The tower extends nearly half its height into the ground in layers of subterranean laboratories and research facilities. The building serves as the national headquarters for the Pinehearst Company, formerly based out of Hamburg, Germany.

The ground floor and first twenty floors are open to the public, while the remaining floors are restricted to Pinehearst officials.

I listen to the words he'd say

Emerald glass doors slide open to let in a gust of cool breeze. Outside, wind blows violently through the verdant streets of Unity Park, located just on the other side of an eight-lane highway from the monolithic Pinehearst Tower. Few pay attention to the lone woman entering the building. The trail of her long, white jacket catches on the breeze, brushing around her legs before flaring out, following behind the brisk pace she takes into the lobby, followed by a taller gentleman with straw blonde hair in a loose black coat of a similar cut to hers.

But in his voice, I heard decay

Underfoot, their reflection is painted like a play of ink on parchment, black slacks and a dress shirt worn beneath a white coat, reflected in black and white marble tiles on the floor, an ephemeral image that is as transient as the future is becoming. She carries herself with head held aloft, one hand moving to produce a leather folio from inside of her coat as she passes by the security desk, revealing a silver shield marked with a double-helix logo - Colette Nichols-Demsky, Evolved Private Investigator. She nods to the man at her side, "He's with me."

The plastic face forced to portray

Offering a nod to the guards, old friends of her father Judah, she betrays their trust on the most profound of levels. Turning past their checkpoint, she moves beyond enormous black marble fountains decorated with green glass sculptures of the same helix emblem that is on her badge, water cascading down the green glass into shallow pools filled with rounded black and white stones.

All the insides left cold and gray

Her path is an obvious one, straight to the glass tube elevators that ascend the spine of the tower. The security guards don't notice that the wind is blowing in from the street even after the doors close. They fail to notice subtle changes in their environment; a painting changing in context, the pattern on the marble in the tiles not being an exact representation, the cars on the street outside suddenly a different shade of the colors they were a moment ago. They fail to notice the profound illusion being wrapped around them like a plastic bag over their heads.

There is a place that still remains

As the black-haired woman enters the elevator, she moves to one side, standing by the number pad. Continuously pressing a button to keep the doors open, she waits until the quiet footfalls of what could only be likened to ghosts following behind her, bodiless apparitions that carry only the sounds of their deeds but no tangible physical form - not to any man or machine's senses.

It eats the fear, it eats the pain

The elevator doors slide shut, and the moment the blonde man moves close to Colette, the subtle changes in the lobby fade fade, the marble returns to normal, the cars shift in color and the angle of the rain falling outside becomes just a bit more natural. The people in the elevator revealed. And they below were never the wiser. The revealing a host of people standing in the elevator with Colette and Norton Trask is muted in the reflection in the glass. A button is depressed for the twenty-first floor, and the lift begins to rise slowly, turning the lobby below smaller and smaller.

The sweetest price you have to pay

As the elevator slowly begins to make its ascent, the security camera located inside of the lift records only one passenger, her lips moving to talk to the small group who emerged out of painted nothingness. "Straight out the elevator," she whispers to the ghosts of the past gathered around her, "past two four-way junctions," her eyes drift to the faded reflections of people that are not there in the glass, "door 2112." There's no doubt in her voice, no sense of lost conviction, only the absolute and unerring faith in something as tangible as her love for a woman who has seen this all before.

The day the whole world…

Her faith for someone who will see this all again, her faith for someone who is the only precognitive left on Earth who can still foresee the future. In that, in the request that any other could make and Colette would deny, she has faith. Faith that the crimes she commits here today, the lives she shepherds towards an uncertain goal and an even more uncertain future, is all as it should be. That this is not fate - this is destiny.

…went away.

She's been frowning since she woke up this morning, unable to put her mood into words. She was frowning as she had when she was told Teo wouldn't be part of this, and as Colette drops the illusion, she is unable to help but murmur as she shakes her head, "The weather's not right. It doesn't feel - " she shakes her head again. She still can't put it into words. Just focus on the now, Helena. "Alex." she says softly, "Take point. Chances are you're best at keeping anyone oncoming out of our way."

Go, be the blunt instrument. It's what he's always done. There's that peculiar stillness around Alex, ever since he last parted from Teo, as if he suppressed and muffled the air around him into hushed stillness, demanding that sepulchral quiet from his surroundings. He doesn't speak now, either, but steps up to the front of the door, and there's that sense of pressure building, as if Helena were summoning a storm. 2112, here we come.

Of all the people here, one person actually has a right to be in the elevator, though she's not dressed the same as she usually does when arriving for business. Gillian's doned simple clothes, black slacks and a purple and black blouse. The lack of bracelets show off the one tattoo she's kept in a viewable area, a yin/yang design in tribal. The lack of make up outside of eyes and lipstick makes her look closer to her younger self, but even then it's less drastic. She also slipped into flats, rather than heels. Easier to walk in, easier to run in. No weapons visible for her, just a small handbag, which she squeezes. Inside is a folded up photograph. No one can see it, but she knows it's there. "I'm saving most my energy for whatever it is will get you home, but I can give some if it's needed," she adds, voice raspy, weary, but determined. Destiny? Fate? She just wants to see her husband again.

Cat's confused. Things are spotty, so much of the past seventeen years beyond recollection right now as they ride up. Cat is for most practical purposes seventeen years younger in her mind, that being the clearest area of memory she can now access. It's like trying to play digital footage on analog equipment. Fortunately for her it makes sense to get out of the elevator with the people ahead of her, to follow that crowd, and the fog clears quickly once outside the negation perimeter. She suddenly can remember again just why she's here clad in black with a ski mask covering her face and silenced pistols concealed on her person. Eyes quickly take measure of the situation. Helena, Gillian, Colette, Norton, Alexander taking point. She moves along, ready to act as needed.

By the time the elevator reaches the twenty-first floor, there's a light that comes on at the keypad, reading Authorized Personnel Only, and a red light encircles a small keyhole in the panel. Colette swallows anxiously, reaching into her jacket to pluck a small key given to her by Gillian from inside. She places the key into the lock, turning it slowly as the notice and the light around the keyhole turns green.

«Good Afternoon, Miss Petrelli.» Is printed on the screen by the keypad, and the doors slide open to reveal a narrow hallway with high ceilings, ending over a hundred feet away at a wall made of opaque green glass. "Just— be careful here, I— everything's so narrow I'm not sure what I'll be able to do to hide you all."

Trask lets everyone else file out, taking rear guard, and letting them get safe distance from him, he has his hand dandy ski mask in his pocket ready in case, and covers the elevator, ready for trouble.

All of the doors in the hall are marked the same in alternating ascending order; 2101, 2102, 2103… The doors continue down the halls, just as Colette had said. Following the hallway, past two junctions, the numbers jump in increments of five after every cross of hallways. Ahead, one of the many red doors is seen marked with a black number designation clear to see — 2112. Beside it is a keypad similar to the one in the elevator.

Cameras swivel and twist, following the group's motion as they head down the hall. Half of the people the security team is seeing are not supposed to be here, and even Colette isn't, even with her badge. That recognition of incongruent clearance and presence causes an abrupt klaxon to sound, bathing the hall in red security lightning as the alarms begin to sound. A loud series of hydraulic hissing noises slam inside of the red doors as they are locked down, metal shutters sliding over the plate glass windows of the laboratories. "Damnit!"

Colette tosses the key to Gillian, and moves to get back away from where Trask is, rubbing her forefingers over her thumb, "Go— Go get that door open." She says in a nervous, clipped town, turning to face towards three elevators that come up to this floor. "Building security is going to be here any minute…"

Tamara neglected to tell her about this part.

It only takes seconds for Helena to process the situation. "Alex, get those doors open. Gillian, can you augment him if necessary? He might not have enough telekinetic strength. Colette, can you do anything remotely like a laser grid?" She starts guaging access points. "Trask, look for anything we can put between us and them to provide some cover. I'm betting they'll have bullets in addition to any Evolved. We can probably expect teleporters, so be on your toes." The space around Helena begins to rustle with a faint wind.

Yeah. About that. Al's been nursing a little core of anger ever since his encounters with Verse. Courtesy of Verse's death at someone else's hand in Moab, it remains. And thus he doesn't exactly need Gillian, though she certainly helps. There's no need for gesture or motion. Al just looks at the door, and it peels away from its frame like a sardine can being opened.

Trask has his mask on by now, and is sprinting down one of the side halls, he returns in a couple moments pushing a pair of Hospital Gurneys which he turns into a make shift hard point at one of the hall way intersections, the one closes to 2112, turning them on thier side to provide cover, his gun is out and he is citing across them watching the Elevators, "You know it has been a decade since we had a good firefight….."

There's only the barest hint of purple in her eyes as Gillian sends a bit of energy in the direction of the telekinetic, taking her key and backing away a few steps. Not exactly looking forward to a firefight, especially not one in the building she works in, she moves against the wall near the door that he's peeling open, trying to keep the telekinetic between her and the elevators. "I hope you guys are as good at fighting as you were at the bridge," she mutters, silently wishing Teo were here, Peter, or even Gabriel.

"And if possible, try not to kill them," she adds, grimacing a little… Whoever appears for back up she'll likely know. It could even be people she's close to. Very close to. She didn't come here to wish the world away, no matter what paintings and dreams have said. Preparing for it to end doesn't mean she wants it to… With the door peeling open, reinforcements on the way, she's holding her breath for a moment, waiting to see what's behind the door— and if it's what part of her sincerely hopes it will be.

There's no one yet to act against, but Cat is ready for when they should appear, to act as is necessary. Silenced pistols are drawn from their concealment and held with safeties off, she moves to take advantage of the cover being constructed and aid in that task by looking for more gurneys she can send toward Trask without getting too close. Her focus is also split by keeping watch to see when it's time to enter room 2112.

"Remotely." Colette finally responds to Helena after a moment of consideration, words delivered with palpable tension in her voice. The woman's throat works as she anxiously swallows, keeping from moving too close to the elevators where Trask is. The door to room 2112 buckles and creaks, and then simple peels away from its hinges, tearing hydraulic locks right out of the walls when Alexander motions for the door, revealing a room lit by the same red emergency lighting as the hall. Large brushed-steel coolers stand against the far wall, marked with a biohazxard symbol.

Springing up from a bed inside of the room, Peter Petrelli looks to have seen better days. His clothing is tattered and torn, a large, dried bloodstain on the front of his torn dress shirt. Bandages are wrapped around his midsection, they too splotched with deep, dried red. Dark circles surround his eyes, hair disheveled, "Al— Alexander," Peter breathes out with disbelief.

His eyes move past Alex, towards Helena in the halls, and then to Gillian in the hallway next to her. His stomach sinks, words trapped behind his teeth. "How— How did you— " there's no time. "We've got to stop my father, he's going to try and send his agents back in time to stop Edward! He's out of his mind!"

Out in the hall, Colette looks over her shoulder as she hears Peter's voice, one dark brow kicking up before she turns to look at Trask one junction down in the hall. "You— you're serious?" There's a hint of disbelief in her voice, "I— can't believe I didn't get to know you guys when I was younger…" There's a faintly crooked smile that comes up on her lips as she holds those swirling lenses of light out towards the hall. Conrad, if you're watching… I hope I make you proud.

Peter takes a few steps towards the doorway of the room, "I— my father— " his brows furrow, "he— he took my ability from me." The words are everything that could be wrong with this situation. "I— I don't know what we're going to do. I— " his eyes move back to Alexander, the proverbial Cerberus guarding the door to 2112.

"Peter!" The gasp of surprise is wrung out of Helena before she can help it, and she starts to step toward him…and stops within a single footstep. She looks over her shoulder toward Gillian, and jerks her head in Peter's direction. Go to your husband.

Funny, how in that moment, she felt neither pain nor regret. Just the resolve of her task. There's a certain peace in it.

To the others, "Kaito's instructions were very specific about where we needed to be and where we need to go. I'm willing to bet if Peter can't send us back, then if we go to the roof at the right time, we can piggyback on the timewarp that Arthur is about to open…or we need to somehow find a way to get Peter his ability back. Options? We don't have a lot of time before security comes, guys."

Trask settles down and waits for orders to move out, he nods to Cat and takes the point opposite of her to give her as much room as possible so she isn't covered by his power.

Go to her husband.

Gillian didn't even see the nod to need to do it, moving to him as if drawn. She touches his face, looking up into his eyes. "It'll be okay— everything will work out, Ace." She says. No time, he's injured and powerless, and there's absolutely no time for a real reunion, but she still leans up to kiss him once on the mouth, not mindful of the incoming danger, before she looks back at Alexander and Cat especially, "This is the twenty-first floor. That means this is where— get those coolers open." She says, suddenly giving a commanding tone to her voice. "The ones with the biohazard symbol. They're locked and my key won't work on it. Just rip it open and we will have what we need."

Even as she says it, she doesn't try to move behind her husband, staying in front of him in fact, as if she might attempt to keep him from worse damage. "The formula should be in there. If it gives you what it did before, then all you have to do is take the right abilities. Canfield— that's what Kaito said. Stephen Canfield…"

Get Peter's ability back. Cat's already moving into the lab when she hears that spoken, even before that, knowing what the formula looks like and hunting for it. She doesn't see any out in the open, but there are those coolers. A potential place to find it. There are locks, and there is the potential of Alexander's telekinesis to open them, but Cat also has firearms. She studies the lock briefly on the closest one, determining if she can safely shoot it open without destroying the contents. If so, she will, and quickly grab samples.

"Kaito?" Peter asks over the sound of the blaring klaxons, "You— you got in touch with Kaito?" Peter's eyes grow wide gain, seeing Helena as she is now, it finally dawns on him that she isn't the same young woman he proposed to. No, there's something remarkably different about this Helena Dean. The difference is in her eyes, in the way she carries herself, in the fact that this Helena has never stopped fighting for what she believes in. The future hadn't been handed to this Helena, the future hadn't been delivered to her, freedom from a long imprisonment hadn't changed her. Only now, in the face of everything coming to an end, does Peter realize the truth of the matter — that she is the leader he could never be for them.

When Gillian comes in, Peter doesn't respond to her at first, her arms come around him and his stay at his sides, he's failed them. But when her lips find his, when she takes charge and understands what needs to be done, when she still accepts him after everything he's done to her, after everything his family has done to her… "Canfield." Peter choes the name, leaning his forehead against Gillian, wishing he could just freeze time here and keep this moment of serenity.

"Sergeant Canfield is up on the roof, he's a part of the team my father put together to go back in time." Brows furrow, and suddenly what Kaito relayed to the others begins to send gears spinning inside of Peter's mind, gears that click and lock into place revealing a horrible truth. He tenses up, arms finally coming around Gillian to hold her one last time before slowly letting them slide away.

When Cat shoots off the lock to the cooler, Peter winces from the sound, thankfully muffled by her suppressers. The door to the cooler is opened to reveal racks of syringes filled with a cherry red fluid swirled with something more chromatic, like a silken vermillion. It's exactly what Cat recalls the injection looking like, and there's hundreds of doses here.

However, the victory there is short lived.

It's not from the elevators that building security comes, but rather a sudden concussive burst of sound and displaced air as six men in black body armor emerge back to back with another at the center, hands linked at the cross-junction in the halls an even distance between Colette and Trask. The air ripples and distorts with distorting waves, like heat rising off of pavement baking in the sun. The six soldiers all bear the emblem of a winged shield on their shoulders, with the word FRONTLINE emblazoned across it.

"Oh god, this-this isn't-" Colette raises her hands, tiny points of starlight beginning to swirl around her fingertips as discs of radiant energy begin to swirl and form over her palms, bending inwards like lenses of some ephemeral magnifying glasses. "It's Frontline!" The six soldiers, all wearing masked helmets with a pair of glowing red-lensed goggles attached to it move with a fluidity as if they shared one mind and one body.

One drops to a knee, pulling out an assault rifle. Another raises his hands and creates hovering plates of white light that pivot and turn in the air like tiny, dancing shields. A shorter operative rubs his fingers together as sparks begin to be generated by a rough texture on his gloves, igniting a flammable gas emitted from his hands, creating rolling curtains of flame that follow the motions of his palms. Two other FRONTLINE soldiers move ahead in tandem, one carrying a shotgun, the other a combat knife and a pistol.

Lastly, the man masked soldier that seemed to be able to teleport them all onto the floor vanishes in a flash, reappearing on the opposite end of the hall near room 2112, withdrawing a pistol holstered at the small of his back. "United States Military!" The knife and pistol wielding soldier barks out through a speaker emitting his voice in his helmet, "Get down on the ground, down on the ground now!"

Helena takes a brief second to take in the arrival of the soldiers. Even as she does, she's reaching for a handful of vials with one hand, the other opening the knapsack gifted to her by Cat, filled with all the things that she wanted Helena to take back with her at all possible. "Alex. Gillian. Trask. Take care of them." Her tone suggests that she has no problem with lethal force at this juncture, though she's inwardly praying that Colette will either surrender herself unharmed or commit to the task of helping (lasers are cool). "Peter, get down, Cat, help me." Here's hoping they can clear the path.

Honestly, though he'd never admit it aloud, it's okay if he doesn't make it back alive. Martyrdom now, martyrdom then, no matter the size of the monument they give you, you're still dead. Or perhaps Al's reached that critical mass of apathy. He's already done helping Cat open those coolers with the Mutant Brute Squad shows up.

Alexander's way, not very sportsmanlike. He condescends to make a gesture, this time, but it's a contemptuous flick, like he's sweeping a roach off the bedspread…..and it's made with him doing his best to take all Gillian can give, powerwise. Absurd, Akira-levels of force. Take that, government running dogs.

Trask of course maybe could have worked with Alexander a little closer, but as soon as Alex does his little flick Trask rises, from his position next to the gurneys, which the Military teleported /BEHIND/ of course, "Excuse me Comrades, but I think you will find we are the good guys here." He then moves toward the Front line group, commando rolling and jinking left and right to close the distance and prepare them for a bit of a surprise.

"Then we need to get our asses to the roof. And when this is over, you, me and Nate— we're moving to Hawaii," Gillian rasps under her breath, knowing full well it may not ever be over. But they deserve a vacation after everything they've been through. Things she's not completely sure he knows about— maybe he does. Either way, she's ready for a long, long vacation. Even a retirement. At least without regeneration he'll grow old with her, like he should. And if the next dozen or so minutes are all she has, she'll take that too. It might as well be forever.

As she's ordered to help, she gathers up what energy she can, sending it toward the telekinetic. The color in her eyes isn't the same dark purple they're used to, but something lighter, a pale violet in color. The glow, even without touch, springs up around the man's skin, giving him a glow as he's empowered. A second thread is pulled out of the stream, too, and send in another direction. Just in case the little firefly that got them this far wants to help, she'll get some too. Most of her energy is still held in reserve, but that doesn't mean she has none to spare, even if two threads are all she can handle now.

The cooler is open, and Cat is busy pulling doses out of it when Helena provides the pack to put them in. She pays little attention to the Frontline soldier's command. She will place as many doses as the pack will hold without being overfilled or too heavy for Helena to carry. "Keep these cool," she advises in an unmistakable tone. "They're easily flammable. The slightest spark, temperatures rising swiftly. It's like you're carrying napalm."

Time is taken amid her snagging doses to slide one across the floor toward Peter and Gillian. "Peter! Grab that! Dose yourself!"

The target of Alexander ire happens to be the shotgun wielding Terrakinetic, and the moment that amplified telekinetic force grabs a hold of him, he's yanked off of his feet and hoisted high into the air, jerked around like a ragdoll ae he smashes into one wall, then the ceiling, and then is flung towards the elevator, his shoulders twisting in one direction and his hips twisting in the opposite. The effect is something pule pulling taffy as the soldier's bodyarmor works against him, its tough tensile strength turning into something like a hot knife thorugh butter as he's practically wrung out like a wet towel filled with cranberry juice.

A wet slap strikes the elevators as the FRONTLINE soldier leaves a red stain on the glass before slapping down to the floor, his shotgun also bent and twisted as though it was plastic wrenched around in the jaws of an angry dog.

"Open Fire!" The knife and pistol wielding soldier barks out, and the forcefield wielder moves backwards to trey and interpose himself between Trask, only to watch in horror as his forcefields all crumple and fade away. Eyes widen as he looks down to his hands.

"Negator! Negator!" He calls out over his crackling and staticy voice modulator through his mask. The teleporter flashes away from his position and into the room with Peter, Gillian and Cat. As Peter catches the syringe of the formula, the teleporter lunges towards him with a twirl ofhis knufe, enough motion to get the man's attention, before winking away again in a feint, appearing crouched at Peter's side as he thrusts his knife up between Peter's ribs. There's a howl of pain as Peter staggers away from the stab, the needle falling from his hand to the floor, watching as the teleporter rises up and levels his gun at him. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Get Peter and get towards the glass wall on the far side of the hall!" Colette's voice carries over the alarms and the sounds of fighting, filling out the last of Tamara's orders to her. Get them to the wall. "Get to the outside wall and stay down!" Colette stiffens, looking away from the horrible scene of violence Alexander's ability perpetrates on the soldier, waving her hands in the air as she moves in a half circle across the floor, flickering after-images of herself painting into the air, soon becoming mirror-images of herself that each follow their own independent movements.

Tiny blood vessels begin to rupture in Colette's good eye as thin filaments of bright blue-green light begin to manifest in the air, at first as little more than angel-hair pasta thin beams of laser light that scorch the floor, then suddenly thrashing wildly as they begin to behave more like whips, the light bending and flexing in luminous lashes. Then, as Gillian's amplification washes over her with a faint lavender glow, the number of those laser-like cords of light double, turning one portion of the hallway into a lacerating minagerie of illusory doubles and mono-molecular razors of laser light.

"Go! G— " She's terrified, but at the same time, at peace. "Get out of here!" Colette extends out an arm, directing these laser filaments that extend down the hall, slicing effortlessly through the supports of the floor and ceiling, sending portions of the twenty-first floor crashing down to the twentieth. One of the filaments forms a hangman's noose around the pyrokinetic soldier, then ten more of these laser streams snap like whips through his body as if he were made of wet paper. There's no blood that falls from him, just segmented human remains that crumple to the floor.

When Peter is shanked, Helena lashes out a hand in command of the wind force that should hopefully slam him back against one of the lab walls. The room begins to fill misty, opaque air as she starts to make it difficult for them to be followed. "Colette!" she shrieks, and then, "You heard her! Come on!" She reaches for the back of Peter's shirt, dragging it like she would a life strap and hollars, "Cat! Inject him!" as she starts to move to the outside wall as instructed. "Everyone, let's move!"

Once upon a time, Al'd've had sympathy for soldiers and cops, just doing their jobs. He still does, but grim necessity is cruel for all concerned. Once he's safely back in the past, he can mourn. At the moment, he's still lashing out with his power at anyone not in his little party… though he pauses to lift Peter, floating him up in one smooth motion like a stage magician levitating his lovely assistant.

Trask has been through a lot in the last relative year, cage fighting, time travel, being a dad, sleeping with Elle Bishop, he may not be the man he use to be, but he has picked up a thing or two along the way, one of those things is a nasty Roundhouse kick, which he delivers to the face of the man who was previously hiding behind his now suddenly vanished forcefields. "Stay Down" He orders in his best army drill sergeant voice, and then when he sees what Colette is up to he rolls for cover in the direction she suggested.


Don't you just love that sound? Well it sounds real good to a woman who hates the elevator music being played. Her high heeled boots are crossed at her ankles and she leans against the elevator wall, facing the door. After being asked to come down to the 21st level by the pilot flying the helicopter, the pyro gladly went. Wearing a dark red tank top and a pair of dark blue jeans, the woman waits impatiently

When the doors open and the FRONTLINE solider is seen flying through the air, "And to think I was going to stay up there.." she mutters and draws a knife out of her boot. The blade wicked and long, in her other hand, a large fireball curls around it. She peeks behind from the doors and throws the knife and a fireball at the soldiers as she dives out of the elevator.

Already there are more flames coming up her arms, she twirls her hands and cracks her neck. "Miss me?" she calls to the others.

While she never appeared armed, Gillian keeps those two threads open for assistance, even when she lets out a sharp yell when her husband gets stabbed. Again. If the world doesn't end, Abby can't refuse to heal him, right? That's what she's going to hope for, at least. As Phoenix reacts violently, she just moves to touch his hand, holding it in hers, trusting the threads of energy she's sending out to be used to keep her safe, to facilitate their escape from this floor. And her instructions to get down…

They're followed, even if she's holding onto Peter's hand as she does this, even as Helena pulls on his shirt and the telekinetic floats him further to safety. "Can't go a month without regeneration, you know that," she says fondly, once the noise fades enough to say it, though she's moving to help Cat get him injected. And then back up arrives. Well. They definitely missed her in this case.

"Couldn't have showed up two minutes ago?"

Cat's busy moving to the place Colette called for them to, using one hand to make sure the package Helena needs to carry with her is safe and near the woman, while the other tucks the pistol away and snatches up a dose of formula. Her memory is quickly consulted on whether it's intramuscular or intravenous, and she makes her attempt to dose Peter.

The former bearer of so many independant forcefields is a thin, frail man who's defenses include his Evolved ability and the suit of bodyarmor he wears. But one kick sends him staggering, another kick sends him into a wall, the helmet on his head connecting with a loud crack. The next kick sends him down to the floor as Trask barks out the order, and from the way he's groaning behind his respirator, this member of FRONTLINE isn't going anywhere except to the infirmary.

Clutching a bleeding wound, Peter staggers and slouches as if he's just going to fall over right where he stands to bleed out. But when Alexander's telekinetic grasp lifts him up into the air and helps him back up to his feet, there's a thankful look on his face as his hand takes Gillian's, some blood pressed between his teeth from his mouth, the wound looks to have perforated one of his lungs — it isn't good.

Peter lets out a loud yelp as Cat pulls the cap off of the syringe and turns it around, driving it into the side of his neck before depressing the plunger. There's an immediate reaction of pain as Peter feels the serum coursing through his veins for a second time. His back tenses, muscles clench and his eyes roll back in his head, as if having some horrible reaction to the second injection in his lifetime. But then, there's a faint purple glow on the hand touching Gillian's, one that is quickly suppressed. His eyes flick up to Gillian, then over to Helena, "It— it worked."

That fast? The future is a remarkable and dangerous place.

After Trask knocks down the Forcefield uses and starts to move towards the far wall with Helena and the others, there's a sudden burst of automatic gunfire from the FRONTLINE agent with the assault rifle. Bullets bent and twist through the air to find their path, controlled by some form of magnetokinesis.

The burst of gunfire perforates one of the illusoty images of Colette, then another burst to another, and tgen the last time blood sprays onto the wall behind her as a pained yelp is drowned out by the sounds of gunfire. Blood immediate shows as bright red on the back of her jacket, low and on the opposite side of her stomach where the rounds went in. Lashing tendrils of mono-molecular beams of light flail wildly as Colette's green eye glows with a colorless light in its pupil.

Colette staggers forward, holding her stomach with one hand as the sound of an approaching helicopter outside grows louder and louder. She looks over to the elevators where Isabelle is, waving towards the far wall with her free hand, "G— Go! Go with the others!" Colette moves in a few staggering footfalls towards where the remaining FRONTLINE members are.

Blood pulses between her fingers, spilling out onto the floor in fever-pitched droplets and drooling streams. She moves her hand to the side, creating a mesh net of laser light out of these filaments, entrapping one of the agents in it as his assault rifle and his body are strained through it like water from pasta, leaving a red and black mess to fall to the floor.

The sound of the helicopter gets closer, followed by the whirr of a gun winding up beyond the glass. Moments later high velocity ammunition is expelled in a near deafening chain of loud gunshots that shatters the opaque glass wall, revealing a black military helicopter turned sideways to face the building, and a man in a familiar-looking pilot's helmet and respirator mask using a mounted chaingun to pulverize the glass high above the floor, the bullets aimed upwards towards the ceiling.

"Get in." Calls the masked pilot, jerking a thumb towards the cargo door of the helicopter, "USAF Aircraft is incoming." There's something familiar about the masked pilot, but it's hard to put a finger on exactly what. Peter stares up at the helicopter as he's leg staggering and half floated out of room 2112, looking back to Helena as he slowly nods his head.

"Go." He moves to to try and lean up against the wall, pressing his hand to Helena's shoulder, followed by a soft white glow as he adopts her power once more, "Get in the chopper." And then, comes famous last words, "I'll be right behind you." This time though, if he isn't, there's no getting home. Down the hall, the FRONTLINE agents double back, the remaining soldiers barely able to scramble away from the lashing tendrils of laser energy that bend and warp against the laws of physics to try and eviscerate them. Cover fire from one pistol is shot out in popping report.

"Colette!" Helena's yell is anguished. In a way, she hopes to God this world comes to an end. People are losing their lives to help them get back, and to think of what they suffered for…and then Peter's hand is clamped on her shoulder, and he says those words: I'll be right behind you. She takes a shuddering breath, and of all things she… smiles at him. "Liar," she says with warmth, and with that, she turns. "Everybody on the chopper now!" and with that, Helena makes if not her first metaphorical, than her first actual leap of faith.

With help. Al's there to boost them all into the helicopter….and determined to see them there before he joins them. "All of you damn fools go, I feel like my head's about to explode. And last thing we need now is me going Cronenberg. Get in the goddamn bird, Petrelli, or I'll rip your testicles off."

Trask can't be boosted to the Copter so he instead jumps more mundanely, taking a running leap, holstering his pistol to do so. As he grabs on and pulls himself up and over the landing rail he clears the way to make sure everyone else can be loaded in via Telekensis, moving to a spot he can cover the two remaining agents with his pistol of they get froggy.

"No /fair/." Isabelle mock pouts and puts a hand on her hip. "Fine.. fine." Izzy launches two last fireballs to whichever soldiers are left and she grins at Peter. "Oh Peter.. you should really come boy."

"Hey, those testicles belong to me," Gillian growls at the telekinetic, as she reaches to support her husband against the wall, keeping herself facing him. She doesn't want to look at anything else going on. The thread to Colette will continue as long as it's able, but once they're on the helicopter… she'll lose range. And the bubble around Trask is making it even more difficult. She actually feels the thread going around it, until it snaps as he gets too close. The woman, who had once been a girl, will get energy as long as she can give it. Despite everything said, despite all the carnage and horror going on around them, she's trying to ignore it, for the moment.

Does that mean she's come out unscathed? No… there's a blossom of red showing up through her dark shirt in the back, which might explain the grimace on her face. In all the noise, and activity, it might be difficult to figure out when she even got wounded. Bullet, knife, difficult to tell, really. She's on her feet, she's able to walk, and she'll gladly accept a boost up to the helicopter, but considering how she holds onto her husband… "We're getting on together." And she can be just as stubborn as him. Where he goes, she goes. "I said I wasn't leaving you." Even if he keeps leaving her.

She moves along under combination of her own power and Alexander's telekinetic support, keeping track of the pack and Helena as she goes. Cat avoids negation range as best she can, glancing around to take stock of people and injuries only once she's aboard the helicopter. She spots Colette with her injuries, and the blood on Gillian. She can only hope Colette can survive and leave with them, given the remaining opposition and the apparent severity of her wound. Gillian seems far more aidable. "How bad is it?" she inquires.

The chopper pilot grabs Helena's hand after she leaps over, dragging her inside as he turns to look down at his radar display, "Fuck, we've got aircraft incoming." looking down to Helena, his pilot's helmet and mask betrays no sign fo who he might be, but his words give some semblance of humility. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Miss Dean."

Giving Alexander a side-long look, Peter clutches his side and looks over to Helena. He hisses a tired breath out, and looks back over to the fight going on down the hall, "I can't… I can't believe this." He turns, reaching out to touch Alexander on the shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as a white glow permeates around his hand, copying Alexander's telekinesis. His expression becomes confused for a moment as he looks at Alexander, head cocking to the side. "T— Teo— " but then the explosions of flame behind him catch his attention with the wave of heat rolling towards them. He jerks his head to look back at Isabelle, eyes wide, then softening into something of a reluctant smile.

"It— it's been a long time, Izzy." There's a hint of emotion in his voice, all of these ghosts of his past coming back for the end of things. It's like Ragnarok, and these are the chosen slain returned by the Valkyries from Valhalla.

Letting himself be boosted in by Alexander, Peter trails droplets of blood in the air as he's moved onto the helpcipter, curling up into a ball once he lands inside, wrapping his arms around himself before scooting to lean up against the far wall.

When Isabelle makes the run down the hall and the jump into the helicopter, it leaves Colette at the end of the hall with the remaining Frontline agents, flames flickering and burning on their suits, but still alive, the fire-dampening covering seeming to have protected them at least in part from Isabelle's hellfire wrath.

With Isabelle inside, the pilot motions to Alexander. "Take the gun, son" he calls out in a confident tone of voice, though muffled some by his mask and the chop of the rotors, motioning to the minigun mounted at the bay doors. The pilot moves back into his seat, flipping a few controls and taking the stick as he pulls the vehicle up, ascending rapidly up along the side of the tower.

"Hold on to something," He calls out in a rough tone of voice, "this is going to be rough sailing." Lightning flashes overhead as the helicopter navigates the swirling currents of winds spiraling around the tower as the storm over the city brews darker and louder. Peter turns to look at the pilot, brows furrowed with a look of disbelief painted across his face.

"I-" Peter clutches the bleeding wound on his side, looking at the pilot with complete disbelief, "I thought you were dead!" He tries to shout over the wind, and the pilot looks over his shoulder and gives Peter a rather sarcastic thumbs-up with one gloved hand.

"He is," the pilot chimes out with a laugh, "but when the world's greatest pilot gives you lessons, it's hard not to follow in his footsteps." Turning his attention back towards the controls, the masked pilot gives a squeeze to the sticks and despite the severity of the situation, manages an awkward laugh. "Fed, wherever you are…" his head quirks to the side, "I hope you're laughin' right now."

Helena finds herself something to hang onto, wrapping her wrist into a strap. "We need to get to Stephen Canfield." she shouts over the throp throp throp of the chopper. "He's the key to getting home. We need to get to the roof, please hurry!" With that, she looks between Peter and the pilot, giving the latter a brief nod of greeting. As her gaze turns back, she can see in the distance the distinct lack of Colette, and she swallows back tears. "I won't let this happen, Colette." she murmurs softly, "I swear to God, I won't, I promise."

He was never all that familiar with the door gun in a chopper. But…..he did serve in Iraq. So Al slings himself into position, only to peer over his shoulder at Peter. "What about Teo?" he asks. His voice is surprisingly quiet, considering all the noise and emotion.

Trask also has combat experience in Iraq and crosses over to the opposite Gun checking it the magazine and preparing to repel borders if necessary, there is a soft whine as he revs it up a second for a test. "Ok boss, what is the plan?"

"Too long Peter." Izzy agrees and grins at the man. "Now you will be right as rain in no time." She encourages Peter and looks back towards Colette. "Poor girl." She offers and then looks to the pilot and Peter. "Old friends?"

The thread breaks. And Gillian can't give it back. They're in the helicopter, moving too far away to extend it, and with everything… all she can do for the moment is keep a hand against her husband. Not leaving him if she can help it. "It's fine," she says towards Cat, not bothering to say much more than that. She's a lot better off than Colette was last time she saw her. Not someone she'd call an old friend, but an acquaintance, certainly. Also a lot better off than Peter is with all his wounds. Speaking of Teo, he put faith in what Tamara had said, and she's going to hope that it was well placed. She doesn't try to man a gun, she's better at boosting other people's arsenals if they need it, but for the moment she waits to see who needs her few threads the most. Obviously Trask isn't one of them.

Nodding at the reply from Gillian, Cat takes her seat and looks back at the tower floor they've just come from, and Colette left there. It doesn't sit well with her, leaving people behind; these are occasions when the flawless memory is so much more curse than blessing. All the details staying so fresh and playing out on perceiving triggers, the effort it takes to hold them back.

But there are things at hand to hold her attention; the roof where they're heading and whatever battle awaits them there.

The pilot looks over to Peter, then to Isabelle. "This jackass? Ha, no way. But he and my old man have a bit of a history. Peter's brows furrow as he hears the way the pilot refers to him, but instead of a scowl there's a hesitant smile.

When Peter looks to Alexander, then over to Helena at the question about Teo, his answer is shaky and uncertain. "I— it's nothing. I just— I had this weird— it's nothing. I haven't eaten in a couple days…" He tries to be dismissive about it, but the way Peter's eyes settle on Alexander seems to betray his thoughts. Something else is going on, but at the moment, Peter can't put his finger on it. Clutching his bleeding wound, and finally noticing the red spot on Gillian's clothing has consumed his thoughts.

As the helicopter speeds away, Colette slumps back against the wall in the hallway. Her chest rises and falls with panting breaths, blood still quickly seeping between her fingers as she begins to slide down the wall, leaving a red streak against it. Her exhalations become shuddering, words coming with them.

"Conrad," she hisses out the name under her breath, the lenses of light in her palms glowing brightly as they turn from white to a deep blue-green, "Gabriel," blood vessels begin to rupture faster in her eyes now, bleeding down in streams that roll across her cheeks, "I'll make you all proud of me." Colette holds out her hands, and a flowing wave of blue-green light that turns a deep violet at the end lashes out from her, nearly an inch wide, slithering around the hallway, lacerating limbs from torsos, slicing through steel, stone, glass and flesh all equally.

The bending beam of laser light turns straight, then fans out and blossoms like a chrysanthemum as it perforates the FRONTLINE soldiers as Colette's control over the beam falters, and it lances up through the ceiling, enough that the intense beam can be seen cutting through the roof of the tower and piercing the clouds over the building. She hiccups up a mouthful of blood, then slouches back against the wall as smoking human remains collapse to the floor, and portions of the roof over sixty floors up begin collapsing down.

The FRONTLINE soldiers lay scattered and dead around the smoldering floor, but yet the elevator chimes, rising up slowly from the lobby. Colette closes her eyes, letting out a pained whimper as she slumps to one side, her shoulder striking the floor just shortly before the side of her head lightly touches down in a rapidly growing pool of her own blood. Swallowing tensely, her eyes blink back open, watching as the elevator doors slowly pull open.

Quivering lips trailing a line of blood from them slowly curl into a smile as tears mix with the blood flowing out of her eyes, breathing now in short, fast inhalations and exhalations. "I-" she speaks in nothing but a rasped voice, watching a pair of sneakers coming into view from the elevator door. "I-I knew you-I knew… you wouldn't leave me…"

The smile grows on her lips as she manages one, weak and whimpering laugh as she watches the shoes approach across the blood-stained floor. Colette's eyes flutter partway closed, and her vision of the shoes becomes little more than splotches of blurred color as her sight in her good eye fails, blood vessels finally rupturing in the eye from the over-exertion of her power.

"My-guardian angel…"

Her words are carried aloft on the sound of the helicopter's chopping rotors, as the hope of this future ascends to the top of the tower, and to where this all will come to an end.

Previously in this storyline…
The Hero Dies In This One

Next in this storyline…
There's No Place Like Home, Part II

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