2007-08-06/07: DF: Operation: Cookie Jar


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Guest Starring:

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Summary: Members of the Boondock Saints decide to expose President Nathan Petrelli's first act of evil through a live broadcast. Only one, real question is important: What's in the box?

Dark Future Date: August 6th to 7th, 2009

Operation: Cookie Jar

Downtown New York City

The Windsor Bank Lobby
1035 Hours
August 6, 2009

"I just want to make sure that our assets are taken care of is all," sniffles the young woman at the desk of one of the bank representatives in the posh, marble-laden lobby of the Windsor Bank, one of the more premiere banks in New York City. Historically, it hadn't even existed until a few months ago when shrewd moneymakers decided to move in and take advantage of the chaos the freak storms and wars had left behind. Now, the building itself stood as a beacon of order, weathering the chaos surrounding it. Inside, it looked more like a hotel than a place to stash goods and valuables. In fact, it boasted one of the most unhackable, uncrackable, untouchable security systems in the world.

The representative in question looks like a prim and proper, middle-aged gentleman, who wore such a stern expression it was most likely that he was one of the stuffy sorts that took himself too seriously. At present, he was eyeing two young people in front of him, a couple. The young woman was tanned, and pretty, with a cloud of thick, jet black hair and despite being indoors, wore a pair of dark, Jackie Kennedy-esque glasses that swallowed most of her face. She was dressed in black. Mourning black. She was clutching the hand of the young man next to her, and she sniffled on occasion.

"My father just died, and he left me….well. Some papers. They're essential to accessing my trust fund," she sniffles. "I just want to keep them safe. Me and Joshua…" She looks at the young man next to her. "We're getting married next week and I just want to make sure nothing happens to these while we're away on our honeymoon. This is our future, you know?"

Deep within her act, she shifts a little bit, making sure the onyx cameo she was wearing, one that clasped her collar in place, was pointed directly at the man's face. She wonders if Gene had popcorn in hand. If someone else did this, and she was stuck back in the van monitoring everything, she would be. Still, Elena maintains her disguise as a grieving, rich little girl, squeezing Prime's hand as she chokes back another 'sob.'

Eric? Yes he has popcorn. He's sitting in the van too watching as Elena plays the act up to the hilt. "…I kept telling her she should go into acting," He comments towards Gene as he relaxes back, offering the other young man the bag of popcorn held in one gloved hand. He /is/ paying attention to all the things in the vault of course, after all this is a /very/ important opp. Even if it wasn't quite sanctioned by Jack. "…and thanks for comign along on this Gene. We could not do it without you." He adds with a grin towards the techie. "…I promise, no casualities. I'll even only take the tranq guns on this one."

Joshua Jaden. Also known as Pacey, for some odd reason. There's nothing that this guy can't really do and the fact of the matter is that, he's trying to make sure he plays his role the same way that everyone else is playing theirs. Joshua's dressed in all black himself, though he's not wearing any Jackie O sunglasses. There is, however, some lingering streaks of tears that are on his face and cheeks. One hand is squeezing the hand of Elena and he even manages to reach up and place an arm around her, pulling her into him a bit more. Especially, because of what just happened.

"He was a good man. A real good man." Joshua ends up sniffing a bit and has to pause to hold the bridge of his nose. "Out of all the fathers I've been shot at with a shotgun… his shot went the widest." He lowers his head and has to stop himself from, well, crying. "God… I miss him already."

In the background, Gene is listening to one of his favorite songs.

o/~ Raindrops keep fallin' on my head… But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red. Cryin's not for me! 'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'… Becacuse I'm free, nothing's worrying me. o/~

"You got it. Just know this is a one time deal, Eric. We could be getting important info instead of stunts like this. And my arm is hurting like the dickens." He still is smiling as he rubs his psuedo-arm. Phantom pains are a b to deal with.

The representative lifts his brows slowly at what Prime says.

Elena can't help but groan inwardly, and nudges her heel against his ankle in warning. The man behind the desk doesn't notice.

"Of course," the representative says in smooth, polished tones. "Just let me enter your information here…" He turns on the computer, and starts typing in the information. Elena looks nonplussed. With her plan, it's not going to matter later. "And….all set. Here are your keys…" He swipes a silver card through the magnet-stripe instrument on his computer, and attaches a gold, old fashioned key on the ring. "And there you go. Your account number is enclosed in the card. And now, if you'll both follow me, I'll take you down to the vault where the safety deposit boxes are. Our most…important clients keep their boxes there, and as promised I will afford you the same privilege in Mr. Wainwright's. You say he's a cousin of Warren Buffet's?"

"Oh yes. They used to go sailing often up in the Hamptons," Elena says, nodding and sniffing at the same time. When they're gestured to, the young woman stands up, still holding onto Prime's arm like she won't let go, and follows the suit. He takes them down, all the way down, to the back of the lobby, and gets in the elevator. She makes sure she walks straight, to better capture her surroundings with her cameo. She even makes to look around. "Who… *sniff* …designed this building?" she asks.

"Jonathan McCarty," the representative supplies. "The English architecht. I believe he's helping the Vatican restore some of their buildings at the moment…"

"Consider this a smear campaign," Eric replies as he grins slightly towards Gene. "Its not important information, but its a moral blow for our side." He looks entirely relaxed as he glances towards the screens again. " …besides. Don't tell me you don't like the idea of sticking it to our beloved President." He adds with a slight grin. On a table next to him sits his bike helment, which is actually his mask/eletronics suite. He likes that thing. Next to that is a pair of sleak tranq pistols. Looks like he'll keep his promise.

Joshua seems to come out of character for a moment, if only because of the last name that's said by the suit. "… Any relation to Jenny McCarthy? Because she's smokin' hot, man. I mean, did you see her in that Playboy issue? Those things gotta' be…" Realizing, belatedly, that he's supposed to be the new soon to be husband of the girl clenching his arm, he coughs and looks at her. "… so horrendously tasteless. I can't believe she would do such a thing! I swear, women these days!" He reaches up to wipe his brow, just to make sure he's not sweating bullets, because that would just be bad for business.

Even though he's doing all of this, there are quite a few memorizations of the layout of this room going on. He's got his eye on pretty much everything, without looking too obvious about it. He's just, y'know, the man for the job and all that good stuff.

Mmmmm. Jenny McCarthy's Rack.

Focus, Prime.

"This is not smear… This is just childish," Gene offers, his tone getting a little dark. "If someone does die over this, I will be beyond pissed." His eyes narrow into slits, like he's about to kill Eric as soon as he turns away. Suddenly, he goes back to his usual cheerful self as he looks back to the cameras. "…But that's not going to happy, right? Right." Things seem to be going well. Unless someone with Desiree's powers know they are coming. Or someone with the power to read minds is at the hotel. The problem with Evolveds… It's almost impossible to tell how a mission is going to go, one way or another.

"Yes, it is childish," Eric replies as he reaches down to pick up one of the tranq guns, checking the action and frowning slightly. "Childish and silly…and sometimes we have to do things like this Gene, just to keep each other sane." He smirks. "…and I'd be beyond pissed if anyone died, on either side, on something like this. Thats why your here. Simple in and out job and then it'll be all over." Setting the weapon back down he munches on some more popcorn. "…thats all we want right. To be happy."

Elena resists the urge to stomp on Prime's foot, but that's the way he was. She doesn't because she knows, deep down, that he was enjoying this. This was the sort of situation in which he thrived. She could almost see the gleam in his best friend's eyes. But off they go, the couple heading down to the lower floor, just one level underneath them. And then, proceeding down the hall. Like most of the building, this hallway is lined with marble, with decorative lamps hanging above their heads. The vault was circular, reinforced titanium sprayed with gold, to match the interior. It even has the old-fashioned wheel configuration on the surface.

That wasn't going to matter either. Even as the representative brags about how secure the systems were in the building. He instructs Elena to use her card, and then the key, and then has Prime turn the wheel in front to open the vault and presto, the vault is open.

Inside, there is a sleek, granite table in the middle. And there are rows, and rows, and rows of safety deposit boxes, all spray painted the same color, but the metal used is the same. This is when she pays attention - after all, they were going to need to bring the right tools to crack these things open.

It doesn't take the couple long. While Prime takes in the finer details, Elena walks around the room to 'inspect' her box's premises. She uses her key to her own lockbox. She also homes in on the box -they- were actually targetting.


DAMN. It was so close! She would've taken a pictue.

An hour more or so later, Elena and Prime head out of the bank, get in their car, and drive away. They're going to wait for dark.

Behind the Windsor Bank, New York City

It was well past 2:30 in the morning of the 7th. Their surroundings outside are wet, showers having started at around the early evening of the 6th. Elena glances at her watch. In the back of the van with the rest of her peeps, she looks over at the boys. She's grinning. She hasn't felt this giddy about an op in a while.

"We all ready?" she asks. It was a little cramped at the back of the van, what with Gene, Eric, Prime, and her inside it. She's dressed in all black. She's armed with a paintball gun, and….strangely enough, she's got a Captain Crunch mask resting at the top of her balaclava'd head.

Gloved fingers reach out to grab the bag with the videocamera and the transmitter.

Gene is merely in the same attire he was before, seated exactly where he was before. He just has to deal with people walking by or over him due to the cramped quarters. His shirt shirt has Sylar on it, who is getting his head shot off by Street Fighter Ryu with a Hadouken. Underneath is the simple phrase: 'This is how it shoulda ended.' He wears his usual black jeans and chucks with the clothing.

"Equipment checks out. Remember, if the watches flash, it means that it's time to pull out ASAP due to a blown cover, intercepted transmissions… And of course, Prime being distracted by Speed Buggy reruns."

"Don't knock Speed Buggy, though he didn't have anything on Jabber Jaw," Eric comments as he pulls a balaclava over his head, not quite covering his face yet. He holsters his tranq guns, then holsders a second pair of pistols. Nice little compact H&K pistols. He grins slightly to himself as he reaches out and grabs a Count Chocula mask, holding it loosely in one hand. "…alright. Blinking watch is bad. Beyond that I'm ready."

For the record though, he's wearing his favorite Grimlock shirt, blue jeans and his old standard dark denim jacket…that isn't really denim.

"Alright." Elena pats the protective shielding of the van. Gene's brain plus Eric's funds equaled a lot of very neat looking toys. She reaches up, and yanks the canvas from the thing stowed with them at the back of the van, which was the reason why things were so cramped in the back to begin with. And underneath the canvas is a gleaming, compact EMP Pulse generator, guaranteed to take out a few city blocks for a good hour or so. Meaning there's a time limit to their mischief making this evening.

"So what….we toss this thing out, hit the time delay switch, run back in the back of the van and close the door to save the equipment we got while this thing takes out the rest?" she asks, glancing at Gene for confirmation. She had been listening to the instructions earlier, but she wants to clarify it. They can leave Gene to load up the thing again later while they're inside doing their thing.


Prime jumps out of nowhere, wearing a Lucky mask. He's not exactly doing that thing where he's jumping around and stuff, but he is eating some Lucky Charms out of the box. With no milk. He's chewing and all of this good stuff, before he looks around to see if there's anything that may or may not need to be final checked for this mission. There's a lot of missions… but this is the most important one. Ever.

"It's gunna fry most stuff unless it's got the latest in shielding. Our stuff might make it, but I recommend we don't risk it. Set thing in there, drive off. Drop off at a different point or the same place if we can get in quiet, save the stuff and perhaps work around any responders to the pulse itself. The van's plating…" Gene pauses to tap the three inches of various layers. "…Might be enough to save the stuff, but I run there's a fifty-fifty stuff gets nailed any-" Gene pauses as Prime pops out. While he shrieks like a girl, he doesn't pee his pants from scary Lucky's appearing from no where. This is good. Peeing one's pants is bad. "-Way."

"Alright. Let's do this." Elena grunts, pushing the generator out with her legs. The thing is jerked to the edge of the van, and she uses her Boost ability to give her the extra oomph to pick the thing up a short distance off the floor of the van and set it carefully on the concrete. She's still half on the van, and she closes the door. "Go go go," she says, holding the remote for the generator. She can't believe she's doing this. Out of all the ops she's planned, she's now going to……………


Still she can't help the grin on her face. She hopes Gene's taping this, because she's going to play it EVERY CHRISTMAS PARTY the Saints have for now on.

Lucky, as he will be called from now throughout the rest of this mission, reckons he should stop eating the cereal now. He drops the box, letting it spill all over the floor (because he's careless like that) and moves right on with Elena to watch her ass. Her back. Uh.. to make sure nothing happens to her. Yeah, that's it. He's totally not checking her out. Honest. For real. When Elena gets to closing the door, he yanks his head back into the van so it doesn't get lopped off! "I wonder if Sparrow believes in leprechauns." He looks around at the others. "Anybody ever see the last leprechaun movie? Wasn't he in Harlem or something?" Why must he always be so FREAKING RANDOM?!

Pulling the mask down on over his face, he picks up the second mask and just laughs softly as he slides the second one over his head. Yes. He's the chocolate vampire here to suck your…chocolate. Nomnomnom. "…I have no clue where the thing was. It was total crap though." Eric replies to Jaden as he hops out after the other two. He better not be checking her out though! …well…wait. He shouldn't be upset about Prime checking Elena out. She /is/ hot. I mean even he can see that. So yes. Eric is /also/ totally not checking Elena out. Honest. "…you two about ready for this?" He asks as he steps up and sets a hand on both their shoulders.

Gene just moves up to the front of the van as everyone else is getting out. He pulls out a large laptop, bringing up the cameras, both the ones on the teammates going in and possibly any cameras that he could have hacked into. After all, while checking your camera through the Internet allows you to look at your prized stuff safely, to genius people like Gene, it could mean a way for your enemies to get a 'sneak peak' of what's to come.

So in the next few minutes, this is what happens.

See Eric, Elena and Prime drop the EMP Pulse Generator at the back of the bank.

See Eric, Elena and Prime run like hell back into the van.

Watch Gene drive out of range.

Drive, Gene, drive (out of range).

Van reaches a point out of range of said EMP Pulse. Gene hits remote control button.

Lights out. Darkness descends upon the city in that area, around a five city-block radius.

Watch Gene drive back to the SCENE OF THE (would-be) CRIME.

Elena is out of the van the moment it stops. She pulls down her Captain Crunch mask. "C'mon Chocula. Lucky. Let's roll." She looks over at Eric, toting the camera bag and tossing the bag of tools to Prime. "It's your show, Prince of Darkness. You know where to go, right?"

"Hey, don't call him that! That's a vamp— ohhhhhh." Lucky's a little bit slow on the uptake, but he manages to catch the bag of tools with somewhat regular ease. He holds slings the bag over his shoulder and adjusts his Four Leaf Clover Hat. Yes, his mask comes with a hat. He's just that damn cool. "Okay, guys! Soon as Darkman does his Dark Thing, we'll Follow My Nose!"

"Wrong slogan."

"Its darkness, I always know where to go," Eric replies with a smirk towards the pair of them. As soon as the lights go out he smiles slightly. "…wrong slogan Toocan Sam." He says before he grabs them both by the shoulder. His eyes close and for a moment there is a feeling of translocation…a momentary coldness…and then poof. They seem to be inside the vault, rising out of the shadows like a trio of ghosts. "…alright. Lets do this."

"Because I was wearing a camera for a good two hours?" Elena teases Eric, giving him a toothy little grin, her cheek dimpling on the lefthand side of her mouth. And then, she closes her eyes. She doesn't want to get vertigo, or feel any ill effects. While this isn't the first time she's been shadow-walked by Eric into a place she shouldn't be, she always felt a little woozy afterwards if she kept her eyes open. But when Eric tells them they've arrived…

They're inside the vault.

"….holy shit, it worked," she breathes. Well, of COURSE it did. But then she carries the videocamera bag to the other side of the room, adjusting the bluetooth wireless communicator lodged in her ear to keep tabs on Gene. "Okay, you guys break the box open. I'll set up for the broadcast."

"Lucky, you do love breaking things…enjoy!" The Count waves his friend towards the box.

Probably the complete opposite, Lucky keeps his eyes open. He's trying his hardest to see anything… but it's all dark. Frowning as they end up in the vault, he even kicks at the floor. "Well, that was kinda' lame. No swooshy lines, no nothin'." He immediately turns to his vampiric buddy and shakes his head. "You, my friend, are in need of some magically delicious special effects. I'll talk to Mom."

After patting Count Chocula on the shoulder, Lucky skips over towards the box and strokes his chin a bit. "Hmmm. This could be difficult. A place of this magnitude and high security would no doubt have some serious defenses. Durasteel's qute the possibility." He then, well, just can't help himself and does the damn thing:

"LUCK SMASH!" And the power of Dittos are within his arm as he PUNCHES into the metal and yanks the damn box out. "Easier than I thought."

"What? You think I would get someone stuck in a wall or something?" Eric asks with a smirk towards the other pair. "Here…" A second concentrated effort, and suddenly the pair of them can…well…see in the dark. "…better than the flashlights." He adds with a grin.

"…and I don't need special effects. I'm fine how I am…sneak in sneak out just how I like it." He adds with a shake of his head. Oh god. Don't tell Mom. She might follow him around with a camera crew for a week before she gets bored of giving him special effects.

…she would give him theme music too. HE KNOWS SHE WOULD.

However he blinks once as Lucky just smashes the thing right open. A raised eyebrow. "…I supose we didn't need a crowbar after all…" He says with a shake of his head.

Box 667, the prize, is SMASHED APART. All that reinforced titanium, spraypainted gold, is reduced to …well, twisted metal crap when 'Lucky' pounds through with his fist, and yanks out the safety deposit box housed within. It gleams silver in the darkness. They were in a bank's vault after all, and they just killed the power with an EMP blast in a five-block radius. Those security systems aren't going up for a while.

Elena is busily setting up in the other room. She flicks on the portable light - it's enough to at the very least see what they're doing clearly through the camera. And then she sets up the tripod. Stashing the videocamera on it, she makes it run on battery power. "Did you get it? Bring it over!" She tosses Eric a spray paint can. She fiddles around with the settings, focusing it on the interior of the room. "Yeah, no kidding," she says to the Shadow Man's comment. She buzzes in on her comm. "Gene. We're just about set up, are we ready to broadcast?"

She zooms the camera in on the box Prime just smashed, and the contents - the silver deposit box. There, in embossed letters, is a single phrase:

Property of N. Petrelli.

"Hold on…" comes the reply to Elena's question. After a few seconds of silence and keystroke tapping, the calm geek replies, "Ready when you are."

There comes a time in every Saint's life when they have to get their hands on the only thing that could quite possibly turn the tide in this neverending struggle between good and evil. This constant battle that will reach no end!

This. This is that time.

Lucky's hands move with a steady, but nervous pace. They manage to grip the lid of the box and starts to lift the lid. He stops though, almost worried that any other sound would cause bad things to happen. "Shhhh!" he tosses over his shoulder to his cohorts in this much-needed crime.

Focused on the box again, he gets the lid within his fingers and lifts. The glow that comes out of the box is magnificent. Golden, pure white, power that shines brightly like there's no tomorrow! IT ENGULFS EVERYTHING IN IT'S PA—

"Uh. Sorry." Prime reaches over and presses the button on his watch. "Timer was set." The light goes back out.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the nation. I, Lucky the Leprechaun, present to you the one thing that your President has been keeping from you for… you don't even want to know how long." He stands back, allowing the camera to get closer to the box. For what's inside is the greatest prize: The Last 3 Packs of Oreos Known To Man.

The spraypaint is cought by the Count easily enough, and he shakes it. Setting his own bag on the ground he pulls several items out. Ducttape, more spraypaint, what looks like some cardboard cutouts. He sets them all aside. "…ready when you are." He says with a grin, glancing up towards the pair of them.

He is still crouching as Prime brings forth the Holy Trinity of Nommyness.

"…its…so beautifull…" He says revrently. Then a shake of his head before he stands. "…alright. Lets do this." The cardboard cutout is actually a gravestone, on it is marked in huge letters. 'R.I.P. OREOS' That gets taped to the wall.

Then the spraypaint comes into play, and infront of the camera, as soon as it starts broadcasting…words of revolution are sprayed in bright red paint on the wall of the vault.


With the tripod set up, and the broadcast set, a funny thing happens in New York. Minus the five city block-radius that they blacked out for this purpose (and therefore missing tonight's festivities), a pirated signal takes over the television screens of New York City. Yes, this caper is being broadcasted live, over the networks, the big TV screens on display that dominate the city that never sleeps. And they were all counting on the city that never sleeps part, because without an audience, this would've been pointless.

"Remember, remember," Female Captain Crunch says reverently. "The seventh of August…2008. In his first act of Evil, President Nathan Petrelli issued a federal order discontinuing the production of Oreos in America. First, it was the Cookie, then, it was our BASIC CIVIL FREEDOMS. Imagine our surprise when a reliable source informed us that in this very vault, the dastardly president stashed his own supply of Oreos, clearly so he could feast upon them after he's TAKEN OVER THE WORLD!"

She grabs the metal canister that's in the box, shaking it to the camera. "He's even got a temperature apparatus in here to keep milk in the proper temperature!"

Lucky's face shows up in the camera at this moment, just to say: "IT'S MADNESS! MADNESS, I TELL YOU! WHAT'S NEXT?! CHRISTMAS?!"


There is nothing but silence from Gene. It is unknown if it comes from surppressed pride and feelings of accomplisement, sheer horror that they actually went through with this, or from the fact that Jessica found the van and painted the interior 'Off-Geek'. At least the fact the message is being sent out across the Internet and a short time later the actual TV stations shows that either he's not dead… Or Jessica's gotten really good with computers in the future.

Somewhere, in New York City, a cop SPRAYS his milk all over the television at the insanity on his TV. "….is that…?"

"They're broadcasting a ROBBERY?!"

"Those IDIOTS. We have to arrest them if they're breaking in the President's safety deposit box! Lock and load, boys! Let's get the three stooges!"


The two senior cops turn to look at the young, new-to-his-job officer watching the news.

"…I don't wanna be a killjoy or nothin', but…" He scratches the back of his neck. "Do we know WHICH bank? 'Cause……this is New York. You know." Pause. "International Financial Center of the world?"


Back to our Saintly miscreants, police sirens start blaring all across the city, and Gene's getting a lot of traffic on the radio. Sure, they were just oreos. But they're the PRESIDENT'S OREOS. And the bastards got in a MAJOR BANK. Who knows what else they'll steal?!

Female Captain Crunch continues. "So in honor of the Death Anniversary of a beloved childhood treat," she says gravely to the camera. "We will celebrate it accordingly by….well. Eating said Oreos. With milk. Like God and America intended."

She ducks down to the bag, takes out a couple of milk cartons, and tosses both to Lucky and Count Chocula.

Lucky catches his milk carton and holds it up to the sky like a ghetto version of He-Man. He can feel the power surging through his body. Delicious milk. He also grabs a pack of the Oreos and holds it up next to the milk. "And on the Seventh Day… God said… LET THERE BE COOKIES AND MILK!" His explosive happiness bounces off the walls of the room and he hesitates at lowering his hands. Such a delicious treat… should he really eat them? This could be the last of them. Maybe the President had the right idea…

Naaaaahhhhh. They look too chococreamy… THEY MUST BE DEVOURED WITH THE FURY AND HUNGER OF ZEUS!

The Count catches the milk in one hand with a laugh. "For the good of how America should be!" He says as he hoists up his milk in salute towards Captain Crunch. He pops open the carton before he grins towards the pair. "Cheers!" He calls with a laugh in his voice as he takes a pull off of the carton.

"Now, Lucky if you will do the real honors," He adds with a grin towards the other two partners in crime. He pauses. Waiting for a moment as Lucky just stares at the package. He blinks once, the milk it lowered slightly.


"Yo! Cookie Monster! Chillax! This is a BIBLICAL MOMENT, RIGHT HERE!" Lucky's response only prolongs the opening of the package.



Raising his milk threateningly The Count calls back. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK! OREOS WERE THE ONE AND ONLY!"
Lucky narrows his eyes, slinging his milk carton in front of him and pointing accusingly at The Count. "SAY YOU NEVER TRADED YOUR OREOS AT LUNCH! SAY IT NOW!"



Outside, police, and now Secret Service Agent Dittos of President Petrelli, who, god-dang-it, happens to be in NEW YORK while this is happening, have homed in on the strangely blacked-out portion of the city. It took them a while to take notice of it, considering the city's pretty big, and everything was pretty dark…..but after two blocks with no power something's definitely wrong. Hence, something MUST BE HAPPENING in that area. Sirens can be heard blaring not by the people in the vault, and radio chatter continues filtering into Gene's comm. He'll pick up police cruisers broadcasts, as well as…oh oh. Secret Service. From the chatter he'll manage to hear…well, police breaking down the banks into lists. There were only five banks in the area, and cruisers and black cars are deployed. One of the banks mentioned is the Windsor Bank.

Of course, Female Captain Crunch knows NOTHING of this. All she sees is Lucky and Count Chocula arguing over the Oreos. She just PALMS her face, and strides over towards the arguing cereal mascots and YOINKS the first package of Oreos from Lucky.

"Do I have to do -EVERYTHING-?" she cries exasperatedly, and rips open the package. She slaps a cookie on Lucky's hand, and one on Chocula's. "See?" She raises her own carton to the camera. "Look what you made them do, President Petrelli. Fighting over Oreos. This what you call uniting the country?!" She takes a drink of the milk carton, and raises the Oreo to both Lucky and Chocula. "To Oreos," she says solemnly. "To Freedom."

And then, she noms on her cookie.

"We were getting to it!" Count boy says with a wave of his hand. That hand though is suddenly holding a Oreo. Mmmmm. Chocogoodness. He eyes the cookie a moment. A pause before he pulls the carton out. Dunking the cookie into the milk he then pops half of it into his mouth.

Sitting there a moment he savors it. Mmmmmughhhhhmmm.

"…for Freedom!" He says after chewing and swollowing. "For Oreos!" Then he pauses a moment with his milk saluting the camera. "…FOR AMERICA!"

Lucky stares at the cookie in his hand. Literally, just seems to stare. For some reason, he can't see it right. "I can't do this. Not like this." And with a lowering of his head, Lucky reaches up to grab his hat and pulls his mask off to reveal Prime in all of his glory. He shakes his head a bit, the weight of the moment on his shoulders and he cradles the cookie in his palm. "I…" Soon enough, a lone tear of happiness rolls down his cheek, splashing onto the Oreo to christen it for its final journey.

"For Oreos." Prime lifts the cookie to his lips. "For America." He bites into the cookie, chewing and holding back more tears. "For Love."

When Prime removes his mask….Elena panics. She throws her hand out to the lens to mask Prime's identity from the masses as he gulps down his cookie, but his words can still be heard.

Gene's frantic voice filters in her bluetooth communicator. Female Captain Crunch takes her last swallow of milk when she hears what he has to say. She flashes the other two a significant look, and then looks to the camera, taking it over so she could still block Prime from being seen. "We now return you to your regularly scheduled informercial programming, unless you got cable in which you're probably watching HBO or…I dunno. Skinemax. So this is Captain Crunch, Lucky, and Count Chocula signing off!" She flashes a V sign to the lens. "And remember."

She smirks.

"Veritas Aequitas."

She runs to the camera, shutting it off, and starts packing everything up. "Take everything, don't remove your masks until Chocula here's got us out." She tosses her empty milk carton into the bag as well - she'll clean that up later. The crumbs? Well, she'll leave them for the President to find. She stows the portable light source into the bag as well. "Someone grab the tool bag, and someone grab the other two packs! The peeps are gonna MURDER US if we didn't bring home the rest."

She pauses as she hears another update from Gene, before she hurries over to the boys. "Let's go, go, go!"

The moment the camera's not on anymore, Prime busts out laughing. God, he really should look into becoming an actor if the world doesn't end. He could make his Mama proud. Anyway, though, he's shoving the rest of his cookie in his mouth and skipping off to snatch up the tool bag… and toss it to Eric, so that he may grab up the other cookie packs and they can get the hell out of here.

"I'm not driving! I've got cookies to eat!"

Eric hears the same things there from his own com and he nods. Though he too panics mildly, his hand going up along with Elena's to mask Prime's face from the camera. "Overcome with Oreos and Emotion! He thinks nothing of betraying himself! See what he has been driven to?!" He pauses a moment before he stands and walks towards the other two. "We are out, but remember! Freedom! Remember what he has taken away from us! REMEMBER THE OREOS!"

A single fistpump before he smirks slightly.

"Veritas Aequitas." He repeats.

He grabs one of the unopened packs of ookies before he grins towards the Captain. "Lets get outta here." He murmurs towards her as he catches the tool bag. Then he slings one arm around the both of them.

"And we are out!"

With that, the shadows take him, and them…and they dissipear, leaving only a vandalized vault.

And crumbs. Lots of crumbs.

The Windsor Bank, Downtown New York City

0800 Hours
August 7th, 2009

"By the time the break in was discovered, Mr. President, there was no sign of anyone," the bank manager is saying as he very, very nervously walks alongside Logan Petrelli. "The police are of course investigating the issue and they assure me that— "

"Which vault?" Logan asks, sternly, as they move down marbled hallways. Their warped reflections naturally glimmer by them on the spotless walls and floors, and Logan tries to ignore the difference in his. Nathan is silent, simply following, as if it were he walking authoritively through the bank.

The manager clears his throat. "667, Mr. President."


After assuring Logan and his guards that the room has been entirely checked for explosives or anything else terrorists might leave behind, the manager admits the country leader into the room. The ruined vault is an obvious feature in the room, but the safety deposit box has been placed out on the table for observation. Stepping over dried milk splashes on the floor, Logan scowls down when he sees only crumbs left behind.

"The milk temperature keeper is still untouched," the manager offers, glancing nervously towards the two agents flanking them. They are being remarkably stoic. Even so much as a giggle and they are fired. One man, however, does not need to worried about such consequences.

"Let me get this straight," Nathan says, from where he's reflecting in the metal vaults opposite. "You— you had Oreos under heavy-duty lock and key? Really?" Pause. "What the hell kind of evil bastard are you?"

And he was still cackling in the back of Logan's mind as they exited the bank.

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