2007-03-10: Anti-Hero Squad

Starring:

Ed_icon.gif Marcus_icon.gif Anders_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif Elena_icon.gif Lachlan_icon.gif Drake_icon.gif

Date It Happened: March 10, 2007

Summary: While the other team of heroes attempts to rescue Peter, the second team goes in search of the Haitian and attempts to provide a distraction. They fare much better than the team meant to rescue Peter and make it out with only one of their own being shot.

Chapter Two: Betrayals - Anti-Hero Squad


Kirby Plaza

The rooftop of the Devaux Building. Sunset.

Hiro Nakamura crouches, sword strapped to his back, over a rough map of the Kirby Plaza building. Who knows how accurate it is — but he doesn't need it to be perfect. Just good enough to point him in the right direction. "Okay, everyone," he says, biting his lip nervously. "This is it. I will teleport each of you, one by one or two by two… and then out again. I hope we can find Mr. Clint," Hiro says, with a breathless gasp. The prospect of jumping so many people in and out does not seem to be high on the list of things he is about to particularly enjoy. Laying the map out on the floor, Hiro puts a hand on his blade — Ando's sword, not the Kensei Sword.

"Thank you. All of you, for coming. You did not have to. And though it is dangeorus, we are doing the right thing. Just… remember," Hiro says. "No killing. Okay? Is everyone ready?" He stops, and addresses Nathan, specifically: "After I do this, I think… I don't think I'm going to be much good to you at least for a few minutes. I won't be able to teleport us out immediately. That… is the hard part. Be ready. Okay? Synchronize watches!" Ten minutes, and everyone meets back up at the cells. Get ready. And if everyone is?

Hiro starts making rapid jumps back and forth, leaving some people /in/ Peter Petrelli's cell and some people at a second, hopefully safe (at least for the moment) location.

Elsewhere in the bowels of Primatech Paper.

Edward Boone sits in a chair that he's wheeled out of a nearby office, his feet up on what is normally a desk just off the main corridor where his squad is waiting to spring a trap. He's drinking a styrofoam cup of coffee, which he sips from. Slllurrrp. A large, silenced glock sits on the desk. Just sort of hanging out. "So, intern," he says, to Marcus. "What do you figure your life expectency is, tonight?"

Marcus looks up looking around, "Um so I heard that we are expecting some terrorists to attack…shouldn't we be like calling homeland security or something?

Anders, meanwhile, is sat on the floor behind Ed's desk, going through a ritual last check of his equipment. Someones been shopping at Special-Ops dot com, what with the respirator and flak vest. The fact hes got some nasty looking kind of assault rifle in his lap doesn't really help. "They call interns here "the Ten Minuters"," he chuckles at Ed, "Wish they'd authorised something a bit messier then just Flashbangs."

"We're here to capture. Bag and tag. These guys are some of the most dangerous," Ed says. "Take it seriously. We've almost never had an incursion like this onto our own turf. But that's why we've got protocols for this kind of thing. /We've/ been trained for this," Ed says, before looking to Marcus. "You might just be S-O-L, though."

Holy crap. Jack's very first teleport. He shakes his head, a trifle disoriented, then reaches out to touch the shoulder of Elena, who's materialized directly beside him. Pressing one finger to his lips to indicate both silence and caution, his eyes wander around the insertion site as his mind strays to the table in his apartment that he's prepared for this evening. On top of the Kevlar and comm unit that Nathan Petrelli has so thoughtfully provided, Jack has his trusty Steyr TMP in an, which has been fitted with a silencer, hooked securely to an under-arm sling. A stun gun is snugged into a holster at one hip, and a long, thin black rod dangles from the other. At home are a few of the basics. Extra ammo, a flask of gasoline and matches, a handful of knives and small, handheld firearms. And rope, of course. 'Cause Charlie Bronson's always got rope.

"So thats what the tasers for, boss-man," Anders says in reply as he gestures at the odd attachment on the barrel of the rifle, "Think the show is starting.." he adds, flipping down his respirator and pulling one of the aforementioned grenades from his belt.

Ed remains on guard. If by 'on guard' you mean feet up, gun not in his hand. More chillin', than anything else. But Anders' state of readiness seems to inspire him to reach for his weapon, which he sort of cradles in his arms. "Don't get your hopes up. They probably called the whole thing off. Had a sudden attack of common sense. It happens a lot, to the so-called brave."

Marcus double checks the medical triage supplies he has set up around him, eyes watching, ears listening for any sound that might be of sign of an attack.

See. Earlier this is what happened. A little chibi figure of Elena skipped up too a little chibi figure of Eric.

'HAI ERIC! I R GOING TO GO DO SOMETHING CRAZY! WANNA COME?!'
'SURE!'
'YAY!'

Then the Chibi's hopped off.

At least, in Eric's mind, thats how it happened. That was also the reason Eric Walker happened too be here, in the middle of that crazy scottish guy from the other day, and 'Uncle Jack' who isn't really Elena's uncle, and all the rest of the madmen there. Madmen, and one madwoman. One teleport, which leaves him shaking his head and blinking his eyes. Kevlar is a bit heavy, but not too bad, the comm unit is comfortable enough. No gun though, at least not for him. Knives, yeah a pair, but there more for looks than actually hurting anyone. He's just here too help make sure everyone gets out safely he is. After all, bad guys can't hit what they can't see…

…at least thats the theory anyway.

After her teleport? Elena just wants to stay in the closet. Thinking about it now, she flashes back to the time where her father fooled Eric into thinking she was a lesbian. So when Hiro drops her with Jack in a closet, she closes her eyes. Her first MAJOR act of rebellion EVER and God is making fun of her. There really was no justice. And to add to the sheer craziness of it all, Jack just smiled at her…and presented her with her first Boondocks Saints-type ski mask to keep her face hidden. So there she is, looking like a bank robber, dressed in a bullet proof vest under her black, nondescript jacket, black jeans, black sneakers. Black everything. She knows about Eric's power. If he has to use it, camoflauge is going to help.

And that was SO NOT HOW IT WENT DOWN.

She reacts to the touch on her shoulder. "Maybe I should just stay in the closet," she whispers to Jack, and shoves Eric a ski mask just like her own. Boondock Saints ftw.

"Don't be dense, Ed, these people think they are /heroes/, common sense is not part of their makeup," Anders says, eyeing the little white grenade for a moment before looking at Marcus, "You know not to look at this as it goes off, Intern, will burn your retinas out." The big man stands too, checks himself one last time and remembers he brought goggles, these people might spit acid or something. Begoggled Anders.

It's one thing to experience one's first teleport alone; it's another when one is experiencing one's first teleport alongside a dog that has, well, never teleported either. And can talk into one's head. Lachlan and his Doberman, Padfoot, materialize not too long after Eric, Elena, and Jack and not too far away from them either. The broom closet is getting a bit crowded. The Scotsman blinks wide-eyed a few times as he weaves in the aftershock of teleportation, and Padfoot skitters backwards, ears back and body low to the ground in sudden fear. The wall he bumps into causes him to jump and whimper softly. It's not a loud sound, but it's definitely audible. Lachlan is also dressed in the gear provided by Nathan Petrelli on top of a regular T-shirt, tattered jeans, and boots. Aside from Padfoot and his fists and feet, he has a baton. He's /so/ armed and ready for this.

Marcus stops turning his head, and looks in the direction of the closet, frowning, "What was that?"

"Relax, intern," Ed says, with a shrug. "You'll get killed by ghosts a thousand times over before you run into your first freak." Freak. That's Ed's term for them, by the sound of it. "Just relax. We'll probably get a heads-up on the radio long before we make contact," he says. "/If/ we make contact. Anders here seems to think that people have it in to think they're heroes. Bull. Nobody wants to be a hero. Everybody just wants to win."

Just as Jack finishes pulling on his own ski-mask, the rapid fire arrivals of Eric, Lachlan, and Padfoot press him against the door. Suppressing a groan of his own, he rolls his eyes. Amateurs. Quietly, he begins to ease the door open. Distraction detail is all well and good, but getting busted upon arrival = Epic Fail. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slinks out into the hallway, eyes wide and wary.

Remember guys. Don't do anything stupid. And then, Elena looks around the closet. She sighs, and when Jack opens the door to step out quietly, she waits for Lachlan and Padfoot to do so, and then…whoever else, but considering they were all bigger and more battle savvy than her, she finds it prudent to be the last out of the closet. She cracks her knuckles, her dark eyes peering out from her ski-mask after she carefully tucks her hair in to make sure nothing shows. She takes a deep breath. No guts. No glory. She steps out when it's her turn, and immediately starts looking around for security cameras that might be lining the hall.

"Some people, Ed, are troubled by notions like honour and goodness," Anders says, sounding not a little like Darth Vader due to the facial gear, "I like breaking shit." he opines, with a shrug. "I wish.." he begins, before deciding hes best off maintaining silence.

Yes Eric is a amateur! B&E isn't his strong suit. At the moment he wishes he took a few more classes in it though. A wince as the big scott and…what the hell is…well…isn't not chewing on his leg, so the animal is apparently on his side. Thats…good. He takes the ski mask with a sheepish smile towards Elena, tugging it on. At his own moment too step out he takes a deep breath and peeks out. "…I can blind the cameras if you want." He offers quietly over the comm system.

After shaking off the effects of teleportation, Lachlan and the off-leash Padfoot start out of the closet after Jack. The Scotsman holds his beatin' stick at the ready in his left hand while his dog moves a few steps ahead of both himself and Jack to peer into the hallway. The constant feed of signals coming off the dog makes him a sort of crude scouting unit.

Marcus frowns again and turns his head, "I'm telling you guys I heard something" he waves in a general direction, "Somewhere over there…..somethings…not right"

After teleporting into the closet, Drake takes a deep breath, then starts to pat himself down to ensure that all his guts came over as well. With a squint of his eyes, he sneaks after the others, peeking out of his ski mask, and glancing around one corridor, after the other. "So.. this is it, huh?" He says in a soft whisper to Elena.
"Alright, alright. Fine. Rookiees," Ed says, with a blank mutter, before drawing his pistol and proceeding to rise and head down the hallway. He doesn't put particularly much effort into it — he's scanning the hallway, heading down, looking around, and then coming back.

Keeping his eyes on Ed, Anders watches the other operative, waiting for the hand signal that indicates the start of the nights festivities, "Just stay tight, intern, and don't look at the blast when it comes."

"Yup. I'm worried about the cameras," she murmurs, nodding to those she could see in her vicinity, if any. She nudges Eric. She tries not to use any names. "If you can do it, I think you ought to," Elena murmurs. She wiggles her fingers a little bit, and watches as Lachlan and Jack do their thing. She then starts inching down the hall. "What's the plan exactly?" she hisses to Jack and Lachlan, the B&E veterans of the crew. "Securing an escape route for the rest? Distraction? If there's a security office here we can try and find it so we can knock out the eyes of this sector and maybe unlock doors if they're automated in a central system." She doesn't know if half of that is even possible - she just watches a lot of movies.

The Doberman at the head of the group perks his ears just as Lachlan's lips curl back from his teeth. "Someone's comin'," he hisses to the rest of the group. "Up ahead." He can't tell how many. Dogs can't count!

"Hell, Scrappy. You think you could raise your voice? Somebody might mistake us for /sneaky/ people." Shaking his head, Jack can't suppress a wry grin behind his mask. This is what he gets being meddlesome. Maybe he should've listened to Eliana, after all. In any case, it's too late for second thoughts. No getting out of here without Hiro's help or an extremely clever, extremely improptu Plan B.

Lachlan's warning sends Jack into an immediate defensive crouch. One hand raises his machine pistol, its muzzle tracking his line of sight as he shoves Elena behind him none-too-gently. Distraction Team—COMMENCE!

Ed lopes lazily down the hall, his gun in hand, looking for some sign of some danger. He even whistles a little tune, wandering down the hall and back. Nothing in particular, it seems. Ed calls back: "Hey! Rookiee! Nothing down here but your paranoia! Might wanna get that checked out. Hell."

"Someone is coming?" Drake asks in a soft whisper as he glances sidelong to Lachlan, then over to the rest of the group. "Do you want me to go ahead? I can.. well.. I can pretty much walk in and out.. um… I.. slow down time.. sorta like.. I guess.. Neo." He murmurs quietly. "I can come back and give you a head count? Provided that.. everything goes well and I don't end up killed?" He asks, giving his shoulders a bit of a roll backwards.

Eric freezes when the gun comes up. ACK! GUN! SHOOTING PEOPLE BAD! …but…of course…dislocating knees and shoulders is just fine though! Such were the words of his sensei. Well. Something like that. However he does at least pause and sink down into a crouch behind Elena and Jack there, eyeing around for security cameras…which he dosn't see any off right now, and then looking down the corridor. He'll…stand ready incase everything goes wrong. Yeah. Thats good.

Ed stops. And looks at a certain door.

The door looks back at Ed.

Ed raises an eyebrow, and then he raises his walkie-talkie. "The sun is shining," he says, "And the ice is slippery," before clicking the static. That probably reaches Anders and Company — in the meantime, Ed approaches the door, pressing himself to the wall just to the side and slowly reaching for the knob. Hell.

So much for the concept of silence, what with the other combat operative shouting, what is he, high? Anders mutters and moves forward, staying low and hugging the wall as he approaches Ed, and offers him a series of hand gestures indicating he wants the door opened a couple of inches so as to throw the flashbang in, can't be too careful.

"Jesus, people. Are you /incapable/ of being quiet?" Jack shakes his head wearily and lets out a soft groan. "Screw it. My bad for being Mr. Stealth. Let's just find some heads to crack, then we'll all go to my pub for a pint." Despite his words, his voice is still pitched low. Irish and Stupid aren't nessescarily mutually exclusive, you know. Rising from his crouch, he heads for a door at random. Yep, it's that door. Hilarity ensues.

Ed nods to Anders, and starts to reach for the door. His hand and Jack's hand should reach to knob at — oh, probably precisely the same moment. Give or take a millisecond.

Marcus comes up about 20 or 30 feet back from the rest of the company team, crouched down, and watching when Anders reaches for the grenade he covers his ears and closes his eyes.

When Jack goes for the other door, Elena, getting antsy as it is, skitters -away- from Jack so she can go to the other end to see if there are other doors she could try to open. She slides along the wall, pressing tight, and moving to the next door she could find. She peers at it, and tries it if she doesn't find any electronic keycards slots that are necessary to open it. Jack can go break heads, -she'll- see if she can find a file room or something with papers she can steal. Who knew she could be an opportunist? As Jack tries the door, she'll try the one right in front of her.

The hair along Padfoot's back is starting to stand on-end as he locks his eyes on the door Jack approaches. "Fuck, /wait/," Lachlan snaps in a whisper, but Irish and Stupid aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Neither are Scottish and Moron, actually. "Paddy." The dog moves at a trot toward the door at which Jack and Ed stand. If it comes open at all, there will be a barking, snarling, angry Doberman at the opening.

Gingerly, Jack gives the knob a turn. He gives the knob a turn. Why isn't it turning? Backpressure from Ed, that's why. Confused, he shoots a glance back at the rest of the group. "Locked, I guess." He's about to suggest getting a move-on when the dog crosses to stand beside him. Padfoot's raised hackles and unhappy demeanor is enough to give him second thoughts. One long-fingered hand tightens on his weapon and gives the trigger-guard a gentle caress.

Great. Now he has the two beatsticks going one direction, and Elena going the other direction. "…Elena!" He hisses quietly before he takes a step further away from the door of FUN AND EXCITEMENT. He keeps looking at the door that Jack and Lach are about too exploit though, too make sure that if he sees anyone shooting the…um…Moron and the Stupid…the'll get blinded…

And then what bang boom dog grenade ACK DOOM FWACKOOM.

"…well…there goes the element of suprise!"

Ed knows better. That's not backpressure. Son of a bitch! Ed looks Anders' way, before nodding and abruptly pulling the door open. He takes an immediately step back, aims his gun straight ahead, and averts his eyes. And he starts shooting, because why the hell not.

The grenade gets rolled through the doorway as soon as theres enough room, hopefully not hitting any legs on its way to fizzle angrily inside the room and then.. theres the flash, pure white phosphorous, apparently going off underneath a doberman(!) and the noise is like a cannon going off. Poor dog, poor Dog going for Anders' face, bringing much muffled swearing from the man, but at least the headgear stops him being permanently blinded and deafened.

Looking fidgety, Drake is practically bouncing from foot to foot as he watches the scene beginning to unfold. Since no one answered him, he lets out a soft breath, annoyed, and frustrated at the lack of a plan, and communication this is starting to become. As the door starts to open, his eyes widen at the sight of the gun muzzle pointing in. With a leap to the side, he looks to slow down time around him long enough to be able to dodge the bullets, and take a breath of air to assert the situation, before they all start dying. Instead of yelling out a shout, or a battle cry, he is simply stoic for the moment.

She doesn't look up, opening another door and breathing a sigh of relief. And then she glances over to the rest of the guys, about to call out that she might've found another way around……until she watches a metal canister roll out the door. Elena's eyes widen, and she leaps for the door she just opened, diving down and shielding her head in case it was a grenade. She hopes Drake has a good grasp enough of his powers to stop it. But she's not taking any chances. Oh god. She hopes it's not a huge explosion.

When the door opens away from Jack, he's ready for it. What he's not ready for is the simultaneous appearance of grenade and bullets. Bullets bad, but a grenade, when you don't recognize it as being non-lethal, seems far worse. So Jack does what comes naturally, as Reckless(tm) as it may be. He launches himself /through/ the door, forcing it open wide.

Grenades are bad, yes, that would be very true. Eric, eyes wide, is going too do his level best too leap /back/ into the closet. I mean explosions are bad, he dosn't know its not leathal. For all he knows, they really are trying too kill us! So…back in the closet, head down, and he hopes for the best.

Sorry Jack, for a little bit, your so on your own.

Light on his feet, with time slowing down around him, Drake watches as the door gets bowled open, and the dog rushes out to leap upon Anders. With only Ed left standing in his way, he bounds over quickly, his body moving like a speeding bullet of a blur, then sets one foot down, shifts his weight, and launches out with a quick, speed enhanced round house kick, hoping to slam it home into Ed's gut with his steel toed boot. He holds himself in a traditional Tae Kwon pose as he moves, one fist held throat high, while the other will reach for the gun if his attack is successful.

Anders' face gear will save him from Doberman teeth, but the Doberman doesn't get the same sort of courtesy as far as flashbangs are concerned. He savagely attacks up until the grenade goes off. The deafening sound causes him to yelp loudly, but it's only a momentary pause in his assault on Anders. Lachlan, meanwhile, has just enough time to spot the grenade and shout out a loud, "Shit!" before he's diving onto his belly. He covers his head and squeezes his eyes shut. Good thing it's just a flashbang! His head is buzzing from the explosion, but he'll be okay.

Between the blast and the noise and the flying canine, Anders is caught sufficiently off guard that he only manages to get his arm in the way of the beast after it has managed to open up a selection of interesting scratches and slashes on that same arm, ow. Of course, he still has his rifle in one hand and the kneejerk response is to bring the barrel up to the dog's side and let loose a burst into it. Brrrap. Thankfully for the dog, however, it manages to knock the gun sideways, causing the burst to spray decoratively into the wall through the doorway.

There's a part of Company training when you have to dodge baseballs from a pitching machine. To deal with exceptionally quick subjects. Ed barely edges out of the range of Drake's kick, gritting his teeth. Hell! They're outnumbered. And did they bring an /attack dog/? Hell! Ed gets his balance and immediately drives his knee into Drake's chest, if he can get a piece of the super-fast freak.

FWACKOOM!

Eric raises his head, his ears ringing from the sound of the flashbang. Well…maybe they /arn't/ trying too kill them. Of course then gunfire rips though the wall above his head and he changes his mind again. It'll take him a moment too get too his feet and make it back into the middle of the melee. He'll look for Elena first, then he'll look at the door and the mess there.

Though he spared from the flash, the -bang- portion of the show is certainly enough to get Jack's attention. It takes him a few unsteady seconds to get to his feet. Then, miracle of miracle, somebody who's already being attacked. God bless Padfoot. Grinning behind his ski mask, Jack throws a sharp, vicious punch at Anders's kidney. AND YOUR MASK LOOKS SILLY!

Elena is nowhere to be seen. She's out of the closet. Shut up, Eric. ;)

In the other room, Elena scrambles off her feet and presses up against the wall on the other side of the doorframe, taking a deep breath and doing her best to calm herself. Calm, calm, calm. She closes her eyes, and when she hears the burst of gunfire, she freezes. Oh god. Did someone die? Jack? Lach? Drake? Eric? She grits her teeth, thumping her head back against the wall over and over again, trying to get the guts up to go. Finally, willpower prevails, she gets up, and moves out of the doorframe, running towards the fray. Drake's engaged Ed, and staring at him she can't help but be impressed. Holy SHIT~!

Marcus looks up from where he was crouched with his eyes closes and ear covered and he looks into….well wow…ok…that can't be good. he doesn't even think about grabbing the gun, instead he just hangs back a little out of the way with the medical supplies, waiting to clean up.

With his leg slipping just past Ed, Drake whirls around, and keeps his focus as he continues to spin time around to hopefully slow down Ed's attack, so that he can just maneuver past it. That guy is quick himself, and he is honestly surprised that he didn't land his strike. Usually the bad guys just fall down when he's taking them on in the park. With a twist of his body, he looks to whirl around the rising knee of Ed, and put himself into a better position to strike once more.

Managing to temporarily overpower the dog, Anders instead finds himself being punched. "Fuck you, cujo," he says, muffled by the mask still as the assault rifle braps to life again, three rounds at point blank range hopefully taking the dog down, "And fuck you, punchy." he says as he kicks the dog off of him and stands to face Jack.

Eric curses under his breath. Elena is no where too be seen, and the rest of the little group of mayhem is mixing it up with a pair of company agents. Lovely. Well then, taking a deep deep breath, the young man looks though the doors at Anders. "…lights out." He mutters, and tries to create a mask of blackness over Ander's eyes. Thereby releaving him of the problem of sight.

With his opponent unencumbered, facing him, and holding a /much/ bigger weapon, Jack doesn't need long to make the decision he's known he'd have to make. Sorry, Hiro. Killin' might be bad, but dyin' is worse. Grimacing, he raises his machine pistol and plows off a handful of rounds at fistfight range. John Woo should be directing this shit.

Bitebitebite — OH GOD GUNFIRE. Padfoot is saved from being riddled with bullets, but the dog is startled enough to slacken is attacks just a bit, allowing Anders a brief opportunity of respite from the canine's teeth. That's when the second round of gunfire rips through him. Another strangled yelp and the dog goes down permanently. The feedback from this causes Lachlan to cry out. Angrily. The Scotsman surges onto his feet, grabs up his baton and slams through the door. Anders and Jack are in a fight. He'll make it two-on-one. The Scotsman charges with the baton raised, ready to beat.

Oh god. The guy's got a gun. Elena shifts closer - but not too close. She has a vague idea of her range and she uses the floor to do some sort of baseball slide into the hallway and scrambles forwards. Closer, and closer. Lachlan looks -pissed-, so she's going to stay away from that. Drake looks like he's got the other one, but she'll help anyway. As Drake whirls away from Ed, she takes her chance. She points towards him, and focuses everything she's got into bringing Eddie down.

Anders, distracted by Jack and in a state of panic caused by the sudden darkness, isn't aware of Lachlan's vengeance powered baton until far too late. Another headwound and another ignomonious fall to the floor and some rather different blackness.

It's about this point that the alarms start going off. Loudly. Throughout the entire building. SOMETHING IS AMISS! And it's probably not this little scuffle right here.

Even though Anders is down, Lachlan doesn't stop. Anders is the reason that he's getting pain and death signals from Padfoot. Anders is going to get beaten. The Scotsman stands over the man and continues to apply the baton with righteous fury.

"Rrgh—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" That's Ed, whose head explodes like a supernova of pain.

Crap Crap Crap….Anders goes down, and the scotsman starts beathing on the body, and Marcus can't just let him die, he attempts a flying tackle at Lachlan to knock him back, because sometimes Loyalty really is an Ouchie.

Looking to take advantage of Ed suddenly being in pain, Drake isn't too picky as he moves through his time warped state, then looks to send a fast, blurred rising upper cut into the man's chin. Sho-Ryu-Ken! With the alarms sounding, that come off as loud, drawn out wailing screams through the slowed perception of the young man, he drops his powers to allow everything to rush back in a quick, ear popping crack. "What's going on?" He hollers out.

Ed gets drilled in the chin by a martial artist's fist — it's more than enough to drop him to the ground, where he lays flat out in a heap.

Alarms? This situation has just gone from bad to patently terrible. With Anders down for the moment and under Lachlan's tender care, Jack has time on his hands to attend to Marcus. Unfortunately, Marcus is /airborne./ Gritting his teeth, he mutters, "Oh. Well. Why. Not?" Letting his firearm drop and hang at his side, he detatches the black metal rod from his hip, then jumps after the kid and swings it hard. As it approaches, the rod expands into the stout, three-sectioned collapsable baton.

Oh ow. Woah. That…looks like it hurt. "…wait! Don't kill him!" Eric calls out as Lach lays into the already downed Anders. However, then some kid is going flying though the air with the greatest of ease towards the big scotsman. "…that works." He mutters too himself as he flings another blindfold towards Marcus…and squaking in on the comm system. "…the alarms just went off? What happened?" No he isn't high ranking in this little group, but he's at the very least curious and paranoid.

The attack from Marcus is unexpected, but it's effective. Whumpf! Lachlan is slammed into, effectively knocking him away from Anders — but now he's pissed at Marcus too. The alarms don't faze him, but Drake's holler gets his attention. That's when it dawns on him that, uh, hey. Alarms. Alarms are /bad/. Damn it. Damn it. /Damn it/. The Scotsman drops to his knees and picks up the bleeding body of his dog, gritting his teeth. "Let's get the /fuck/ outta here!" he bellows to the others as he makes his way toward the door.

The alarms blare. Elena looks up from where she's standing just as Drake punches Ed's lights out. She doesn't know what's going on, and she's not getting a response. She can't reach Jane. What the hell happened?? She narrows her eyes, and glances at the fallen bodies of the company goons. She strides up to Ed, and….starts frisking him. She'll try to look for a radio and listen in to see if anyone's coming, or if there are any reports filtering in from the other side.

Leaning down next to Elena, Drake peers over at her with his blue eyes, a bit of emotion finally reflecting in them. "Things are not going good, it seems." He says as he gives his gloved hands a bit of a flex. "If this.. Peter is so important.. do we continue with the mission, or run? Our comrades are still in the building, right, at least we think? Do we leave them here?" He allows his gaze to lead down the long hallway, then rises upwards to his feet.

"We get to decide that once we hear what the hell's going on on our end or theirs," Elena replies to Drake grimly, her dark eyes fixing on his blues, and standing up to crank up the volume so she could hear what's going on. When she hears that -more- are coming in their direction, she looks at Jack. "Your call, fearless leader," she says, dangling the radio in her hand. "We stick around and bring down more of them, or we find an escape route and bail. I'm not hearing anything about what caused the alarms but I'm not about to take the chance of sticking around in case they use -this- hallway to get to the reasons why the alarms were hit."

Marcus is beat soundly in the ribs, he grunt and moans, as he also goes blind, you will all notice the kid isn't weilding any weapons and actually is festooned with medic gear and a red cross on his shoulder, Elena might even recognize him, he starts to try to get up as those around him begin looting the goons.

"See if you can tune into their frequency, then we might find out what happened too everyone else," Eric calls too the girl before he crouches and frowns, looking around for a moment. "…I think…I agree with the big guy. Look at thease guys, they were waiting for us. They know we were going too be here…" He moves over too Anders then, looking for a radio on him as well…and taking his guns. Mostly because he dosn't want the big guy too wake up and shoot anyone. He'll sling the assult rifle…and then glance up towards Jack and Lach. Then he blinks at Marcus starts too get up. "…um…I'd recommend you stay down." He adds towards him. He dosn't hit him though.

This little soiree is hardly going as planed. Straightening from his lean over Marcus, Jack puffs a breath out through his nose. Mmm. Adrenaline. Then he's back to reality. Alarms, unconcious folk, and.. What? People want to leave? But the fun's just started. Then Jack gives a quick headshake. They were suppose to get in, cause a distraction, take out the Haitian, and then evac. If they could get the hell out of here, three out of four wouldn't be bad for the Avengers' first run. When Marcus begins to stir, he frowns and swings his baton again. Stay down, damn you. Sorry, no mercy for medics, here. You want to play, you've got to pay.

"I don't want to leave anyone behind if we can help it, but we also don't know what kinda numbers they got. It seemed that these two went down easily enough, and were sloppy." Drake says as he glances down to Anders, and Ed. "This one I recognize though.. he was at the Starbucks, and he came after me." He says, frowning for a moment. "With my powers, I'm not.. too concerned about being caught. I just don't want anyone else here hurt, or worse." He says as he looks to Elena specifically. "Peter is important, Hiro said so. If he can save New York, then.. then I'm… sticking it out." He says after a moment of consideration, nodding his head, before looking to Jack.

15 years of Soccer, have to count for something, and apparently Marcus's ears are just sharp enough to hear a rush of a baton coming flying at him yet again, he rolls, to the sidde away from his assailant and comes up in a crouch.

At the door, Lachlan pauses to glare back at the others. His dog is dying. Slowly. It's making him /less/ than thrilled. The fact that everyone else is not following him for the exit is not helping matters. "'ll /tell/ ye wha' the bloody fuck's goin' on!" he snarls. "We're /buggered/. Now let's /go/!" The more they stand around talking about it, the less time they get for escape, and the less time he's got to get Padfoot to a vet. Not that it looks like a vet will have any success. Drake is given a withering glower. /Shut up/. Marcus is given a glance. He recognizes him from the bar. Come to think of it, now that he looks, /Ed/ looks familiar too. Hrm.

Clang. The baton strikes the floor. Jack's eyes are feral and aggressive as he straightens, and his free hand fingers his firearm. "I think that if you don't lie back down on the floor, I'm going to eat your pancreas," he calmly informs the medic. With alarms going off, Lachlan on the run, and a good ol' fashion bicker starting up about what to do now, there's hardly time to keep fighting. Time to GO.

She looks startled, seeing that the agent is still up - and she recognizes him! Elena stares at Marcus as he rolls into a crouch. That was Marcus~! What the hell was he doing here working for the Company? She continues staring, but given she was in a ski mask? Now really wasn't the time to clap him on the back and reminisce. That and with him still conscious, he could call others to their location. It is with some regret that she points towards him. She won't use pain, but she'll try to bring him down gently by making him drowsy and maybe sleep. If she can bring people out of sleep, maybe she can make them drop in a gentler way.

"Alright, lets get out of here then," Eric says, half because Lach is getting very annoyed at them all, and the last thing you want is an annoyed Scottsman. "I'd love too stay and help everyone, but if we can't contact them, and we don't know whats happened, lets get out of here." Then Jack speaks. Eric takes that tone too mean that we need too leave. Leaving is good. He'll start too baaack away from Marcus, the man can't see their faces anyway. "Lets go then," He hisses.

The only question is, HOW do we get out?

Marcus has just pulled out his radio to call for help when he gets hit by a waive of…wow thats nice, "Man down…Anders…medical…Pretty Pink Ponies" and then the radio falls from his hand and he collapses on the ground.

What? Everyone is leaving? Cowards! Drake lets out a loud breath, withering a bit at Lachlan's stare. With a grit of his teeth, and a solid huff, he nods his head and follows after the others. "This is just not right." He says as he sweeps up Marcus's radio, attaching it to his hip after turning the volume up a bit. "What floor are we on, and how do we get out? Obviously not the front door."

"I'm sorry," Elena murmurs softly, the voice tinged with regret when Marcus drops. She tucks the radio into her belt so it would keep broadcasting, so they know -which- areas to avoid. "Alright, let's go," she says to her 'team'. Part of her is sorry, but part of her is exhilirated. She DID something! Not only did she manage to make someone's head explode, but also brought someone down without any pain. She's having all sorts of breakthroughs here, and the nerdy scientific girl in her is dancing. She'll have to create a file for herself later when she gets—oh right. Life or Death situation. "We gotta go. We have to use that way." She points to the stairs at the end of the hall. "The elevators are going to be guarded."

Escape? Jack can help with that! CHARLIE BRONSON TO THE RESCUE! Gesturing, he produces the coil of rope he prepared before leaving. "Find me a window!" he shouts zestily. "I'll get us out of here. Wait. We're on the twelfth floor." Glancing at his pitifully inadequate length of line, Jack seems to deflate. "Shit. Well then, I say we take the stairs. Right now it's our only chance. Scrappy's right about the elevators."

Suddenly, Jack has a rope! That gets at least a grin from Lachlan. "Ye allus need fuckin' rope," he intones. Hey, sometimes he can watch movies too, especially violent and bloody ones. Then, he's making for the nearest stairs. Time to go.

"Stairs sound good too me, lets the out of here," Eric murmurs as he stands and starts too follow the rest of the group. He hrmmms a moment though. "…anyone good at faking an accent? We can tell them the alarm is on a different floor." He adds with a half smile on his face. That always works in the movies it does. And in most RPGs too!

"Why use fake accents when we have real ones?" Elena grins impishly at Eric as she takes the radio and tosses it towards Jack. "It's you, Jack. You're the Monopoly Man," she remarks with a smirk. Maybe if Jack does it well enough, he can come across as a snooty white man with a top hat and a monocle. She jerks the door to the stairs open, and lets the boys head out in front of her. This time around? She's perfectly content to have everyone else be a meatshield. She looks at Drake and winks. "You were pretty badass," she murmurs admiringly.

None-to-gently, Jack kicks open a door that's conveniently labeled 'EMERGENCY STAIRS.' Then he grins Recklessly at Elena. "Why not?" Cheekily, he snatches a radio and depresses the transmit button. "Uhh.. No problem here. Situation normal. We're sending everyone from the twelfth floor down to the lobby to catch anyone tryin' to rabbit outta here." Damn. DAMNDAMNDAMN. Somehow, he doubts that Company agents use the phrase 'rabbit outta here.' Clicking off the radio, he slowly, solemnly sets it on the floor. "I think we should go now," he murmurs.

Yeah, /nice/ one, Jack. Lachlan rolls his eyes as he moves down the stairs still carrying Padfoot, who has begun to cough loudly and wetly. He's already on his very last legs. The Scotsman keeps his eyes and ears open for anyone who might be on the stairs in front of them, but without his dog to supplement his perception, he's probably not the best scouter.

"…well…thats something I guess," Eric says as he hustles down the stairs. "Anyone know if this place has a service entrance?" He mutters, glancing down at the radio he picked up, and then shrugging it and dropping it off at a random floor that they passed. "If not, we can either go out the lobby under whatever cover I can give, or we just just…use the rope from a lower floor."

The brunette nudges Eric and mutters at him. "Don't give him any more ideas," Elena jokes quietly. "Let's just get the hell out of here." Besides. It was twelve floors up. It shouldn't take them long, especially if they hurry. So she picks up the pace, scrambling down the stairs after them. "Hurry up. I don't know how down those people are going to be upstairs. Is there a back door to this place?"

"I think using the rope at any point is a bad idea. We'd be sitting ducks. It's best to use your gift to dark the place, and just escape that way. It will blind us from any cameras, which obviously would be in a lobby." Drake says as he heads down into the stairs, letting out a loud breath. "I swear, this is turning out to be a real shit storm. I bet we're gonna get scoobied." See, he's using Elena's vocabulary.

Playing the part of tailgunner, Jack patiently waits for everyone to head out. His radio misadventure has put him into a shamefaced and abashed state, but when Eric mentions the possibility of actually /using/ the rope he's still humping around, Jack's eyes twinkle irrepressably. Having no knowlegge of other exits, he stays quiet until everyone is through and headed down. Once he's got an instant to himself, he glares at the cast-off radio. Then he lifts his firearm one-handed and blasts the damn thing away with a muffled THUTHUTTHUT. Ahh, silencers. One of life's small joys.

Twelve flights of stairs when you're carrying a large dog, have just gone through a fighting situation, and are a heavy smoker? Lachlan's starting to breathe heavy. Huff puff. The stairs continue to lead down and down and down. 12, 11, 10, 9 … "We're goin' ta the lobby then 'r wha'?" he grunts over his shoulders at the other. "Lobby'll be bloody crowded, I can tell ye tha'."

"I'm not trying to give him ideas, I just want too get us all out of here without going out the front door," Eric replies, still moving quickly as he can after Lach. A glance at the big scottsman before he looks back at Eleana. "…think you can do something for the dog?" He asks. Lach looks really attached too the big thing. Otherwise though he's thinking, or at least trying too. "…ugh…should have brought my laptop. I could download the building plans."

The poor thing looks to be in pain. Elena reaches out to stroke the doberman's ears gently. "I don't know how long I can keep it at bay…" she murmurs. She's taken away the pain she inflicts no problem, but on something that was -already- in pain? She focuses, attempting to do so as she walks. "Please don't tell me we have to shoot our way through the lobby," she says, looking apprehensive. "I don't want to die a virgin."

Eric is now officially having the nice internal arguement, devil on one shoulder, angel on the other. That closet back there was pretty cosy…

Grinning, Jack catches up and claps Elena on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Scrappy. I'll get you out this mess, yet." Carefully, he pastes on his innocent 'Uncle Jack' face. "After all, it'd be no fair if you kicked it before your first internal tickling session. I'm sure your 'classmate' Eric agrees, doncha laddiebuck?"

"Huh who what eh…" Pause? "…yes?" Eric's powers of speach fail him. GO UNCLE JACK!

".. If any of you guys make a comment, I'll ninja kick you in the face." Drake says, almost too protectively as he lets out a loud breath after Elena's comment. With Jack's comment, he gives him a rather open glare, then shifts his gaze to Eric. Ugh, boys. Wait… isn't he one too? Whatever, they're sinners. "C'mon, lets just get out of here." He says, shoving off ahead of them with a stubborn growl in his throat. "In fact, I'll just.. zip ahead." Tonight is a night of frustration it seems, and with a bit of concentration, he blurs out, heading down the flights of stairs, one at a time, becoming a skipping stone of movement as he aims to take a quick peek at each level as he goes.

The pain does go away for Padfoot, but by now the dog is too far gone to really notice. That doesn't mean Lachlan doesn't, and he casts a grateful glance at Elena. "Thank ye." All the talk about Elena and her virginity and the taking thereof gets all participants a scowl. "Ye wanna /focus/, mebbe?" The fact that /Lachlan/ is the one demanding focus is something unheard of. When Drake zips ahead, he slows his pace slightly. "How long's tha' rope o' yers, Jack?"

"Wait, what? WHAT? Get away from me!" Elena cries, mortified, playfully shoving Jack away from her. "And YOU be quiet!" She points at Eric, grumbling under her breath. "That totally wasn't a hint." She finally reaches the next floor, and pauses. She then shifts away wordlessly so other people could field this. They're about close to the first floor. The lobby is next, and then freedom.

She pauses. And then? She groans.

"Oh my god," she says, realizing that they didn't arrange for a getaway vehicle for themselves. "We might need to hail A CAB for our Great Escape!"

"Fifty feet," is Jack's reply to Lachlan. Belatedly, the Irishman realizes that his unlikely Scottish pal is holding a good and nearly dead friend in his arms. Eyeing the wearily sagging Lach sympathetically, he lays one hand on the other man's shoulder. Perhaps Elena's mating habits aren't really what's important here. Then he stands and suveys the rest of the group. "Let's go, kiddies. I can help the doggie, but I sure as hell can't do it here. Screw the windows. We're heading for the door." Grimly, he drops his half-empty clip and shoves in another one. Gotta shoot all those bad guys who aren't actually there, after all. Wait? Nobody's there? "It's clear. let's get the /fuck/ outta here!" he shouts.

Marcus comes to groggily he grabs his radio and calls out an alarm, moving to Anders, now that he can see again, to try to get him stable.

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