There didn't have to be an opening when Peter was strong enough to make one. He half-flew, half-jumped to a small landing made in the rubble and pried open a fire door still left standing. Unlike Nathan, Peter could easily carry Parkman, his ability to use multiple powers giving him an edge despite his diminutive size. He was even smaller than Mohinder, after all. Not by much, perhaps, and time in Ireland and at the research facility with Elle lent him time to muscle up, but he still looked waifish in such ill fitting, torn, and bloodied clothing.

Those in pursuit would arrive just in time to see the door shut and it would take them a few minutes to scramble up the rubble. It bought them enough time to teleport to the third floor for their goods, but taking everything would be impossible.

"Just the water," Peter whispered. That, more than anything else, was high priority. Anything running from the taps now was brown since the treatment plants had stopped working. Below, he could hear people yelling and cursing. They were fast. Resourceful.

And as much as Peter wanted to be a hero, he was getting really sick of it too.

"Hurry!"

At least the cover gave the others a pretense not to think that he and his friend had teleported away seconds before they broke into their hideaway. Besides, they were much too happy to find a cache of good to really be bothered by remembering to give chase to the other two.