ArchivedLogs:Flamewar

Flamewar
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Dusk, Cage, Rasputin, Chloe, Deanna, Liza, Kinzie	17 December 2013 Anti-registration protest (and counter-protest) gets a little heated. (Part of Prometheus TP.)
Location <NYC> Greenwich Village
A rather bohemian neighborhood and the East Coast birthplace of the Beat movement, Greenwich is the residential counterpart to its more punk east sibling. The Village has been a historical center for the important political movements-- landmarks such as the Stonewall Inn on Christopher street were here during the GLBT rights movement, and the Weather Underground had safehouses here during the radical anti-war movement as well. Historically a place for artists and hippies to flock, gentrification has driven up prices in the locale, causing Greenwich to now trend less bohemian and more yuppie, though the stereotype remains. The weather today is not exceptionally conducive for being outside for long hours -- freezing cold, snowy, foggy. With the enormous news that's been dropped yesterday, that hasn't deterred a sizeable crowd from gathering here. At the south end of Greenwich, outside the building that houses New York's Homeland Security offices -- and soon to be the new home of their Mutant Affairs Division. As contentious an issue as the topic is, there's a heavy police presence, barricades and lines of police (many in riot gear) set up perhaps as much to corral the (much /larger/) group of counterprotesters /out/ as it is to corral the protesters /in/. It's been peaceful so far, though. A few speeches given -- a couple of ex-labrats, a woman from the police's fighting ring, Dr. Iolaus Saavedro of the Mendel Clinic. At the moment, though there's a microphone in Jackson's hand, it isn't so much speeching as conversation -- a kind of general assembly in which anyone from the assembled crowd has a chance to talk. Jax -- dressed warmly and kind of /eye-catching/ in brilliant lime-green hair, blue eyepatch with silver dragonfly, bright silver jacket, purple skinny jeans, tall black boots -- is passing /off/ his microphone rather than speech-making himself, handing it over to a small teenager leaning heavily on a forearm crutch so that she can take the mic with her other hand. "I've seen --" Liza's voice is shaky, not particularly /confident/ with all these people listening, she's clearly not really /used/ to public speaking, "-- what happens when people know. Um. That you're different." She's leaning down, tugging up the leg of her jeans to show the metal prosthetic where her leg once was. Protest or no protest, it's /cold/ outside, and Micah's dressed like it. Bright orange Jayne hat, oversized candy-corn striped scarf, green striped gloves, olive puffy coat, and hiking boots hiding all but his face and a few tufts of auburn hair that escape from under the hat. He is standing behind a little table where a couple of chairs are set up in the event that someone has the need to sit. A few water jugs, containers of disposable cups, a small pile of blankets, a pair of first aid kits, and a trash can complete his set-up. Nearby, someone has also left a pack of markers, some glitter-pens, and a small stack of cardboard and poster-board in that pile of craft supplies that always seems to materialise at these events. Micah is mostly watching the speakers, occasionally scanning the crowd for any sign of people in need of assistance, occasionally engaging in quiet conversation with people who approach him or handing out a cup of water. Currently, he's watching Liza with a reassuring smile, giving her a pair of green-gloved thumbs up as she shakily starts speaking. Dusk's been up front with the speech-ifiers, not actually taking the mic himself though he's been busy talking nevertheless -- with his hands, though. He's not making any speeches, though he is /interpreting/ what's being said in ASL. Or has been, at least; with the cold and the work his hands are getting both tired and /numb/ and he tags out to let a second interpreter take over. He's much less eye-catching -- in dress at least, in the manner of those who aren't /supposed/ to be attracting unnecessary attention to themselves, plain dark jeans, plain dark denim jacket. He can't really help the enormous wings, though. They're as eye-catching as they always are, and they flare out just slightly as he hops down off stage, lacing fingers together to stretch them out. He ambles over to Micah's table, flexing out a wing to brush it lightly against Micah's shoulder. "Oh god. Please tell me you have some handwarmers somewhere in those kits. I'll be back up in fifteen and -- apparently people have a crapton to /say/." Cage was with the march wherever it began, and must have had some notion that it was happening ahead of time. He even helped deploy and set up the temporary stage. He's in his heavy, black pea coat with a bright yellow dress shirt under, jeans and boots. At this point he's mainly lurking near the corner of the stage keeping a stern expression for anyone looking to cause trouble, both on their side of the barriers /and/ the other. He scans the crowds with a keen eye, having already evaluated Dusk silently. This was his first encounter with the young man, but apparently Jackson's stamp of approval was enough for Luke to write Dusk off as 'trustworthy'. Flying over from past the the protesting area, is a brown bird, with a tiny sign around it's neck reading "REGISTRATION IS DISCRIMINATION". Spotting Dusk by his wings, Rasputin swoops down, landing on Micah's table, careful to not land on anything. Rasputin grins, speaking happily. "Hey, guys! Just got here, how is it going so far? Hope this goes well, personally. Doubt it'll /change/ anything, but, can always hope!" "It's just -- I know we can be. Can be dangerous but." Liza lets her jeans fall back into place, shaking her leg slightly to let them fall back down properly. "Anyone /can/ be dangerous. There's already people out there hurting us. We don't /want/ to hurt anyone any more than anyone else does. So I think --" She hesitates, biting down on her lip; it's a quick glance to Micah and his thumbs-up that makes her draw in a breath and keep speaking. "-- think people should just get judged on -- on what they /do/. Whether they're mutant or -- or not." Her last words come out kind of /rushed/, a little breathless. She hands the microphone quickly back to Jackson, leaning down against the crutches and melting back into the crowd to huddle among a small cluster of Xavier's teenagers. Jackson smiles at her, murmuring something low that the microphone doesn't pick up. He hands the microphone off again -- this time to a middle-aged woman, the mother of the young boy who died earlier in the year up in Harlem when Mount Sinai refused to treat him. Hands freed, he moves away for now, drifting over towards the edge of the group as well to let his gaze skip around the crowd with the restless-alert habit of a security guard even if he's not currently on duty. "Thanks," he murmurs, low, to Cage in passing, "s'been quiet so far at least. Good turnout even with the weather -- oh." He moves farther to the edge to rest his hands against Micah's table. "Can I steal a water there's a woman at the front looking kind of peakish. Winter is /weird/ people put on all these layers and then they're sweating." "Not in the kits, but y'know I've got a stock," Micah assures Dusk with a smile, reaching into a pocket of his ever-present messenger bag to withdraw a pair of flat, yellow fluid-filled stars. He presses on a little disk in each one and hands them over. "They're /reusable/ exothermic crystallisation warmers, so don't chuck 'em once they've gone all cold and solid. Just gotta boil 'em later t'reset. I've got a couple shoved in my gloves already." He wiggles his gloved fingers indicatively. "Oh, hello," Micah says after blinking at the bird a few times. "Nice sign. Things have been pretty peaceful so far. Lots of talkin'. Lots of cold. More people set up on the other side of us than here, unfortunately. But it's visibility. It's gettin' the issues an' people's stories out there." Jax's request gets a nod and Micah frees a cup from the stack to fill it from one of the jugs before passing it over. "S'hard t'know which way t'go when it's freezin' out. Just gotta keep remindin' folks t'make their way over here if they need anythin'." "Oh, sweet. Hippie." Dusk grins, bright and fangy as he takes the handwarmers. He shoves them in his pockets, shoving his hands in his pockets as well. "Heeeey, Ras. Nice sign. It's going --" His long upper thumb-claw flicks towards Micah. "Like he said. I mean the people over there," he waves towards the counter-protesters with /their/ own contingent of signs past the police line, "have been kind of noisy but nothing worse than noisy. Protests are always kind of full of /chanting/. Something catchy and three words long." His wing stretches out, wide to wrap against Jax's shoulders. "Hey. Better turnout than I would've expected actually. How the hell many twitter followers do you have?" His wing uncurls from around Jax after the brief squeeze, stretching wider still to nudge Cage in the shoulder. "Hey, lighten up, s'been good out here. You want a water, man?" Cage also gives Liza an encouraging nod as she tries to speak in front of all these people, and joins in the applause when she makes her exit. He maintains his watchful eye when Jax comes to speak to him, and just nods. "Wouldn'ta missed this, man. Not for anything." As wound up as he is, Cage actually flinches when Rasputin lands on Micah's table, but when the bird starts talking he's more at ease. That's just the world they live in now. Talking birds, and dudes with wings - what's the difference, really? Luke smiles when Dusk nudges him and nods, picking up a water bottle. Just as he's putting the bottle away though Luke spies someone in the mutant crowd go limp, and slump into several helping hands nearby. The man's skin is completely copper colored, but is otherwise dressed like a business man. Luke waves to the people who caught him, and the man looks to already be regaining himself somewhat, but Luke gestures for them to help the man to the front, where Luke in turn helps him to a seat at Micah's table. The man looks woozy, but it doesn't seem to be anything worse than exhaustion. "Got one for you Micah. Wouldn't want you to get bored." He grins, and pats the copper man on the shoulder. "You're in good hands here." The sound of clapping emerges from Rasputin's beak, to join the applause. Turning over to Dusk and Micah, Rasputin grins again. "Thanks! Had a friend help me put it on and make it. Shows spirit, right?". Rasputin then frowns at their comments. "Knowing people, this might not be too pretty. I mean, they wouldn't have the riot squads here if it was going to be all nice and dandy, would they?" Rasputin turns to Jackson when he arrives, grinning. "Hey! Good job up there, holding the mic. That was pretty great!" When Cage brings the copper man up, Rasputin scoots back on the table, to give him some room. "Is he alright?" Throughout the crowd, in the wake of the applause there's lingering noise. Louder, angrier. Not so much chanting as yelling. A young man in heavy workboots and leather jacket, a woman in long green parka -- getting a little more worked up than the rest of the crowd. "They're going to kill us all, you know," the woman is saying to another person next to her, and the man: "I hear if they think you're too dangerous they're moving you /straight/ to the labs that have been on the news. Did you see that girl? That could be any of us." Chloe is here in this crowd, for all that only a small sliver of her can be /seen/ in winter gear -- with warm fleece-lined hat, long light-tan trenchcoat, scarf wound around half her face, hair tucked down the back of her coat, she's not very recognizable though with /everyone/ bundled up that doesn't really stand /out/. "The labs or worse," she's saying to a young man who's already been quite excitable throughout the protest. She nods towards the counterprotesters across the way. "And you know there's probably people here keeping track of who even shows up to things like this." "Pretty much. The cups are biodegradable, too." Micah grins, nodding toward the stack of plastic cups. "Ras.../oh/. Rasputin! Sor--apolgies, I didn't recognise you not bein'...feline." He shakes his head at the bird's predictions. "We can hope it's just a precaution, yeah? Just keepin' a fire extinguisher around don't mean you're /expectin'/ the place t'burst into flames." His posture straightens when the man in the crowd goes down, no longer leaning against the table. Once the man is settled in the chair, his fingers go quickly to the man's wrist. He checks his heart rate while watching his face and eyes for any other concerning symptoms. "Hey there, sir. I'm Micah. We're gonna get y'some water. Y'got any health conditions we should know about? Would sugar be helpful for you? I know a lotta folks with special abilities burn it quick, so I keep a lotta glucose tabs around." He speaks slowly, pausing between each question to give the man time to respond. Jax disappears off to deliver the water, but then returns to the table. His cheeks flush, his smile quick and amused. "Yeah, real strenuous mic-holdin' I been doin'. You're right cheerful 'bout everything, ain't you?" From his warm tone, this sounds like definitely a Good Thing. "They break out the riot squads any time there's big things that might get rowdy -- seen 'em at all kindsa environmental protests an' anti-war things an' /definitely/ every time there's action 'round mutant issues. Can only hope it stays --" He drags his teeth against his lip, gaze surveying the crowd. "People do kinda get riled. 'spose it's inevitable, s'a heavy issue." He blushes deeper at Dusk's question: "Um, gosh, a -- lot, I don't know how that happened I barely even use it. More now than I did 'fore this month, though." He watches the man with concern when Cage brings him over, but leaves the medick-ing to Micah. "'course they have the riot squads, here, how else are they going to beat us all into place." Dusk keeps his hands in his pockets to warm them, nodding at Cage when he comes over. "Thanks, man. Good to have more helping hands. -- you know," his smile flashes to Micah again, "at your place I always /do/ expect it to burst into flames. Think Jax has lit his apartment on fire four times since I've known him." His shoulder bumps up against Jax, teasingly. He frowns out into the crowd, eyebrows raising. "Is getting noisier." He looks through for the Xavier's group, watching Liza for a moment. "Pretty heavy stories people have been hearing from. Think I saw a few wet eyes when B was speaking." "Beat us? Are they here to beat us?" Nearby the first aid table, a college-aged young woman sounds suddenly panicked, watching the police and turning wide-eyed to a neighbor: "Guys, they're here to /beat us/." "What?" This prompts a sudden frightened /squeak/ from a smaller teenager nearby. It's not long after Dusk's comment about Jax lighting his apartment on fire that a sudden-quick flicker of flame sizzles in the snowy ground around her. "Fire." This is a gruff but more sedate comment from one of the riot police, who take a few steps forward, shields in place. "Oh my god." This time it comes from Chloe. "Oh my god, they're going to attack us." Micah fetches another cup of water, offering it to the man in small sips. "You're organisin' this whole shindig, that's strenuous enough." He shakes his head at Jax with a faint hint of a smile. "Honey, you're all /famous/ now. People are gonna be watchin' at y'more now." The smile morphs into a lopsided grin, cheeks reddening at Dusk's comment. "Our place's...kinda under special conditions. /Only/ four times? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it's been at least as many since /I've/ been around an' you've known 'im longer." His brow crumples, lips thinning at the sudden increase in tension and speculation in the crowd. "Cool down, sugar, ain't nobody doin' nothin'," he supplies to the young woman near his table in a firm but soothing voice. "Best thing /anybody/ can do is stay /calm/. S'a peaceful protest an' we're gonna do everythin' from our end t'keep it that way." Rasputin laughs a bit at Micah. "How many other animal possessors do you know, really?". Rasputin's cheerfulness tones down a bit at Dusk's remark, nodding with hir head. "Either way, I don't have a good feeling. Never do about these events.". When people start panicking. Rasputin flies up a bit to a nearby, higher perch, watching around. "Looks like it could be imminent, too." "Whoa, hey, we're /ok/." Luke says as he strides over to where the little fire has started. He holds up a hand to the police barricade to placate them, as if he has any influence there. He steps up next to the girl closest to the fire, and tries to tamp out the flames with his boots. "It's ok, trust me. If /we/ keep our cool, /they'll/ keep their cool. We just have to /be/ cool, ok?" Luke uses his big, calm bulk to put himself between those starting to panic and the police who are just itching for a reason to step in. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes. He gives Jackson a meaningful glance though, clearly aware of how tenuous this situation is. Jax blushes deep, too. "Ohgosh. Um, I do -- tend t'be a little more incendiary 'round you two than most people, t'be fair. -- Ohgosh." His eye widens briefly at the small fire. "Hey, honey-honey, s'okay, ain't nobody -- the police are jus' here doin' their jobs, aright? Ain't nobody attackin' nothin'." Jackson pours a cup of water and moves down from the table towards the girl and her group, beckoning them over. "Here, c'mon, why don't you sit down a spell an' have some water." He offers the cup towards, the girl, eye flicking between the police and the crowds. "We're jus' here to talk, that's all." "Oh my god." This time it comes from the other side of the barricades. Deanna is similarly bundled, scarf and hat and leather jacket and jeans, dreadlocks tucked beneath scarf and jacket. "Oh my god, is Luke Cage /threatening/ the police why is he lifting his hands to them." "I heard he punched a cop once," someone else says, "and isn't that the guy who attacked the mayor? /God/, these /people/." "/Get back/." It's not yelling, but it's a very /firm/ command from one of the police officers when Cage approaches them -- the man hasn't apparently made himself any /friends/ on the force after the incident in Harlem. "You, girl --" He's beckoning to the girl that created the fire. "Over here, now." As the cop calls for the pyrokinetic, Rasputin grimaces hir beak, before concentrating over near the cop. Suddenly, a loud random noise, supposed to be some sort of distraction, is made from next to the cop, with no source in sight. This noise repeats for several moments, and then suddenly stops. "Damn cops. Fuck, this is going to get worse, isn't it?" Rasputin seems 'slightly' guilty about what ze just did, but also shows a sort of smug look that shows that ze thinks it had to happen. "Hey, man, look, she was just startled, okay? She didn't do it on purpose -- she didn't mean any harm." Dusk's hands lift as he turns towards the row of cops. "It was just -- an accident, she just needs to sit down and calm down, alright?" His wings ripple restlessly at his back, pressing in closer as though it will make them disappear. His face is a little paler than it should be, his pockets shifting as his fingers in them ball into fists. "Always does," he mutters to Rasputin. "Oh god they're going to beat her. They're going to /beat/ her and put her in one of those /rings/ you know they make us murder each other?" Chloe's voice takes on a distinctly shriller edge when the girl is singled out. "Oh god, oh god." "They're going to put me /where/?" The girl has been going quietly with Jax, drawing in slow breaths, taking the water. "-- oh god no I saw those videos I don't want to go there." She drops the water to the ground though at the mention of the fighting rings, eyes wide and a sudden /blaze/ of fire flaring up to crackle out wide around her, kind of indiscriminate as it licks towards protesters and police both. "/Jesus Christ/ who's attacking." The police tense up hard at the sudden noise, some of them looking around but most of them looking into the crowd with increasing suspicion. The suspicion only grows when Dusk speaks to them, one officer raising her baton. "Get back," she says as well, lifting it towards Dusk's large wings. The fire snaps what restraint the police have had, though. "Get down," one of the police snaps to the girl, the edge of the shield slamming hard into the back of her knees to /enforce/ this order. "On the ground, hands behind your head." All around the group of protestors, the police lines are now closing in, packed in to kettle the group in a circle of shields. "All of you freaks." The officer who'd addressed Dusk /shoves/ the tip of her baton quite /hard/ against his ribs. "On your knees." “Jax-honey, y'think y'could chaperone the girl an' maybe give 'er a few tips on the whole am-I-bein'-detained spiel in case they get insistent?” Micah stays by the man still slumped in the chair, though his eyes are darting between the people getting increasingly upset. Not that having someone watching the girl seems to matter much very quickly. He rests a hand on his own ward's shoulder, preparing to hunker down or move /with/ him as crowd reaction dictates. Rasputin notices Dusk getting hit by the officer, and creates a sound of gunfire coming from deeper in the crowd, followed by a random, fictional voice shouting "FUCK YOU, MUTANT FREAKS!", trying to distract the cops. Noticing Chloe, Rasputin flies towards her direction, creating a shrill of noise near her. "Hey, why don't you knock that off? You might be worried, but that girl is going to get everyone fucked over now." The voice doesn't come directly from the bird, but from just near Chloe, as Rasputin circles overhead, continuing to make various distractions, to try and do /something/, no matter how ill-fated this seems. Out of pure reflex, when the policeman swings his baton at the girl's legs, Luke steps in the way, causing the baton to thunk harmlessly into his leg instead. He takes a deep breath as he stares down the officer's startled expression, but before they can do anything, Luke reaches up and laces his fingers on top of his head, clearly familiar with the posture of someone being placed under arrest. He just places himself such that the police will have to deal with arresting him before they can reach the girl in question. He offers an apologetic look to everyone over by the stage and just shakes his head. Non-violent protest, indeed. "No, no, those rings are /closed/ ain't nobody going to --" Jackson's tone is calm up until the point where the officer hits Dusk. "/Hey/." His voice sharpens, his eye narrowing. "You leave off him, he ain't done nothin'." His hands clench into fists, too, but when they say to get down he grits his teeth and lowers himself to the slushy wet ground, hands laced together behind his head. "Sweetie," he murmurs to the younger girl, "jus' stay calm right now an' get down quiet-like, aright?" The fire sizzles out quickly in the snow but flares back up again with the hitting. "Oh god --" The girl backs up, away from Cage, scooting behind Jackson. She does get down, though, shakily dropping to her knees as her hands also rest on her head. Around them, the corralled-in crowd is growing more panicky. Some comply with demands to get down; others are looking for /escape/ routes through the lines of police, though the cops have only left one narrow exit in the barricades free for departing. Chloe startles at the voice behind her, shaking her head quickly. "No, you're -- you're right, this is -- this is a mess." It's hard to really /see/ her smile behind her scarf as she starts heading for the gate. Dusk's wing reflexively comes up into the path of the baton headed for him. He hisses quietly at the strike, fangs baring as he slowly gets downward. He shakes his head quickly when Jax's voice sharpens. "Fucking thugs," he spits out, eyes narrowed on the cops. His hands lift from his pockets, pressing to the back of his head. "Just a bunch of goddamn fucking bullies. You want a freak, you look in the goddamn mirror." "Flat on the ground, hands behind your head. -- Book him." One of the officers is lifting his shield again like he's going to smash it /into/ Cage's face, but then he -- stops and /looks/ at Cage, and just shakes his head in disgust, leaving the man's arrest to one of the other riot officers. He steps /around/ the big man, instead shoving the pyrokinetic from her knees to her /face/, shield pressing hard against her as he slips on thin plastic handcuffs, tightening them far past what is really necessary. "You see that? You see those fangs, he's threatening us." Dusk's sharp answer meets with a sudden crack of baton whacking up into his jaw. "/You/ got something to say?" The man is lifting the baton again, glaring down sharply at Jax. Micah takes to his knees beside the coppery man's chair, though one hand adjusts his phone where it hangs from a lanyard on his neck to ensure it is capturing a better angle of the more active officers around him for /video/ as he does so. Then he puts his hands behind his head, as well, his elbow pressed against the man's shoulder reassuringly where a hand /otherwise/ would be. "You just stay sittin' 'less they get insistent about it, hon. Slumped in a chair's fairly non-threatenin' an' better'n collapsin' over," he half-jokes to the man, in an attempt to keep him calm through the confusion. Echoing through the air, is cries of POLICE BRUTALITY, CORRUPTION, MUTANTS ARE PEOPLE TOO, all sorts of stuff, courtesy of dear Rasputin, who has pecked off the strap of hir sign and dropped it below, trying to cause as much chaos as possible, and maybe screw stuff up for the humans too. More noises are made in the crowd, all sorts of stuff, and voices shouting at the cops echo from straight behind them, just swirling around. To any rational person, Rasputin just looks like a bird flying around in panic from the chaos. Though, it's much different than that, as more screams of POLICE BRUTALITY rain out. "Yes, actually, I do." Jackson is tense, muscles clenched up tight and the light around him starting to tremble. Some of the wetness on his clothes is /evaporating/, steaming itself off. His voice is back to even, quiet and calm, and he doesn't move from his kneeling position, hands still behind his head. "Nobody was threatening you, nobody was attacking, /one/ scared girl had an accident and you turn to violence against people who were causin' no harm. I can see why you're scared of other people havin' power. It's cuz you think when we have it, we'll act like /you/ all do when you have it." There are, at least, /many/ cameras in addition to Micah's starting to come out to record the footage at Rasputin's cries. Even some on the counter-protest side -- though some of them are kind of gawking with interest or looking smug, others' support of mutant registration doesn't extend to support of anti-mutant /violence/, and there are more than a few glares at the police as people start to record. Jackson's speech earns him a quick crack of baton to jaw as well. A police officer's shield comes down against the back of his neck, pinning him against the frozen ground as he gets the plastic cuffs, too. Dusk's officer slams the edge of his shield into the man's wings, frowning as he tries to navigate /around/ them to handcuff Dusk. The police are clearing the rest of the protestors, evacuating them in a trickle through the gate, though the cluster of people immediately around the girl are getting cuffed rather indiscriminately. Through a bullhorn, one of the officers is delivering orders -- everyone please leave in an orderly fashion. This directly /contradicts/ separate orders from other police to stay on their knees, leaving kind of a disorganized /tension/ as people nearest the conflict try to figure out if they should be going or staying.