I just don't want to die without a few scars.

The surprising sound had caused Luke to jump out of bed. Well. Not really jump per se, more like tumble fall out, and land straight on his face while he ungracefully tried to pick himself up again without pissing his pants. "What the fuck was that?!" Who the Hell was he even talking to? The room was completely empty, and no one was there to answer his stupid question. 

Before he could question his mental stability logic kicked in whispering like a poisonous fear throughout his mind. He knew what it was. Not from personal experience, but he had seen enough action movies to recognize the sound of bomb. As soon as that realization dawned on him, Luke was leaping across the room; tugging on the knob forcefully.

Nothing. Not a damn thing happened. Not a single wiggle, or budge. It was as though it were superglued, or cemented shut. Anxiety, and bile rose from his guts as he could ear the screaming coming from just outside in the hall. Oh God! He was trapped inside his room. Which wasn't a bad thing, and probably the safest place to be, but that wasn't the problem. THEY were out there. THEY were in danger, and he needed to get the fuck out.

Violently he shook the door more. He kicked, shoved, and slammed against it until he thought his shoulder might break. "HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?! SOMEONE! SOMEONE PLEASE LET ME OUT!" The screams from outside became louder proving that even if someone could hear him they wouldn't bother to stop to help Luke out.

Trina. Tannor. Elliott.

Where were they?! Were they safe? Were their screams among the collective terrified voices? No. No. No! This couldn't be happening! The worst kind of panic shot through his entire body, causing Luke's body to violent shake, his legs almost buckling under the pressure.

God no. Please. Please GOD! Please let them be okay. Please let them be safe.

It was almost laughable that both a cynic by nature, and an Atheist was silently screaming prayers hoping that something up there was listening to him. All he could think about were the people he loved being trapped out there hurt, or in danger. "GET YOURSELF FUCKING TOGETHER, PETRELLI!" He screamed at himself. "Come on! Breathe. Think. Calm down, and think. Find a way out. You can do this." Luke started pacing the room, trying to get his scrambled thoughts to focus long enough to be of any use.

A sudden chill in the air shook him out of his thoughts, and instantly his eyes were scanning for its source. Snapping his head toward the window, Luke could see the spiderweb cracks on the surface shinning in the night lights. There was a small piece missing on the corner that's what caused the draft. Without a second thought, he was picking up a dirty shirt from the floor; wrapping it around his hand.

It took two of the hardest punches he had ever throw, before it completely shattered. Clearing out the glass the best he could, Luke was pulling himself through the window. As soon as his torso was on the other side, and he caught sight of where he was; he started to rethink the whole escape plan. "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put the rooms on the second fucking floor! Idiots!" Vertigo was swarming him as he pulled himself on to the ledge. It wasn't until this moment that Luke remembered how much he hated heights. He didn't even go to the roof anymore, because of it.

"It's okay. Be the fucking SpiderMan. SpiderMan this bitch building, and find them." It was pathetic that he was giving himself a pep talk, as he basically scaled a building. With his chest, palms, and face pressed against the side of Kingston's outer wall he slowly made his way across the ledge trying to not focus on the drop, or how slippery the ledge was. Stumbling a couple times, he wished his balance was better.

Don't fall. Don't fall. For the love of everything don't fucking fall.

Would the fall kill him? Probably not, but it would hurt like a bitch, and he didn't want that. Sliding along the ledge Luke finally found himself standing in front the window of the Rec Room. Digging his nails into the molding he held on for dear life, using his knee to break the glass, and climb inside. By now he was covered in slices from each broken window, but his feet were firmly on solid ground again. Finding the exit, he was out in the hallways, bodies slamming into him from every direction. They were like farm of ants that had been tossed around, and were scrambling to find safety.