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A note is posted in the Lobby, the Library, and pretty much everywhere there are people.

ATTENTION RESIDENTS

Because of the recent tragedy, in four days there shall be a memorial service for those lost in the cemetary in which they are buried. Anyone who wishes to speak, may do so, and if anyone knows the relegious orientations of those interred, please do let Timothy Hunter know, so the proper observances may be made.

The list of lost are:
Ellen Ripley
Artemis
Prue Haliwell
Piper Haliwell
Jor-el
Rose Tyler
Samuel Morse
Ardeth Bay
Jamie Fraser
Erik
Daniel Jackson
Wanda Maximoff
Michaela Banes
Christine Daae

If any have been missed, please add below.

((ooc:So, Friday, Tim will set up a post in the cemetary, and devote a thread to each of the deceased for people to talk about however they want. Do what you will, but defiling of graves will be frowned upon. *glares at the Bunny*))

Iggy hummed to himself, just faintly as he slotted the last couple pieces into place. He'd found the puzzle in the back of a closet while looking for something, anything, he could make into a long-burning fuse for his latest project.

He smiled, just a little, once he'd done it, nodding, "Right, that's it then." He unfolded from his seat, took two steps and tripped over an ottoman, which in turn sent him into alert mode: "What the hell guys! Moving the furniture isn't funny!"

He was a little worried when there was no immediate answer, or even stifled giggling. He hadn't yet realized that the harmonics had changed, the room he was in now was bigger than the one he'd been in a moment ago.

"Gazzy? Angel?" Nothing.

"Nudge?" No response from The Nudge Channel, all Nudge, all the time.

"Fang? C'mon guys, this isn't funny!" He was trying to keep his panic down, trying to take stock of echoes, where they were coming from, what was muffling them, trying to work out the shape of the room, "Max? Anybody?"

(please check userinfo before tagging, Iggy's not a normal kid, thanks!)

After the last person has gotten out, or, at the very least, gotten into a stable part of the Residence, Tim feels it is finally safe to drop his load. Slowly, carefully, he eases the magic down, letting the full weight rest upon the ground. This, of course, results in quite a bit more damage to the residence, as everything collapses in upon itself.

Tim makes his ways through the tunnels, clearing out an area for him to walk in. It is as he does this that he notices the cape, in the rubble. Hurriedly clearing away debris, Tim drops to his knees, hoping against hope that he's wrong, hoping there is life here.

Some small time later, a portion of the lawn swings upwards, revealing a dusty, dirty Tim, holding in his arms the corpse of the Phantom of the Opera.

The puzzle was starting to annoy him. It had been sitting on the desk in Nathan's study. He'd been in and out of there a lot lately. Planning he supposed. Cause the fight was in no way over. He didn't know if Hiro had actually gotten Adam and there was Sylar.

Apparently dead didn't always mean what he'd assumed it did.

He held the box with one hand and waved his other watching the pieces spin and finally fall into place. Bit of a cheat but....

...

He opened his eyes and looked around to see a ceiling, flames.

And he'd fallen on a bit of wood that had somehow gotten lodged pointing up. He pulled himself up by his arms, hating the sensation of the bones and muscles knitting back together as he moved but inwardly thanking Claire for the ability.

Finally free of it and healed he stood up

Had he teleported without knowing it?. Had he caused this?. He looked down at his hands but he seemed to be okay. And he'd learned to control that power.

But more importantly people were in danger.

He looked around and opened his mind to sense people. Anyone in danger. Hearing a voice in the rubble he managed to pull a few beams away telekineticly freeing a guy. The next. A brunette in her late teens he'd been too late to save.

What the hell had happened here?

Hop, hop, hop.

The Bunny eyes the empty lobby again, just to make sure it is still empty. If anyone sees him doing this, he's in big trouble. But sometimes, well, all the time really, he just has to follow his programming.

Which is telling him, someone has to pay.

So it is that he's carrying a small object, just about the size of an easter egg. Actually, it's painted to look like one too. But with some advanced knowledge, and future technology, the Bunny has created something quite powerful.

"Happy Birthday, buddy." With a quick two hops, he slams the egg into the delivery shoot and hits the button with both feet. After a smooth landing, his beady red eyes stare upwards, waiting for a rush of fire down the tube to tell him he's the new Manager of this place.

BOOM!

As pieces of the residence begin to fall down around his head, he can say but one thing.

"Oops."

((OOC:This is it boys and girls, the big badda boom! Enjoy yourselves.))