ArchivedLogs:In Which Some Civil Disobedience Is Met With Incivility

In Which Some Civil Disobedience Is Met With Incivility
Dramatis Personae Blink, Marinov, Steve, Taylor, Alice, Karrie
In Absentia	2016-04-05 << This is getting ridiculous. >>
Location <NYC> United Nations Headquarters - Midtown
A dense, skyscraper packed neighborhood, Midtown is the busiest commercial district in the United States, and one of the busiest pieces of land in the world. Day and night, Midtown is filled with people going to and from work, enjoying the nightlife, and walking quickly through the streets. Very few live in Midtown proper - only the most wealthy and work-obsessed - but many who live in and around the City work here. In many ways, Midtown is the heart that beats in the city that never sleeps. In a stroke of luck, the weather has gotten warmer again today after the weekend's cold snap. It means that the crowd gathered to rally outside the United Nations headquarters is huge and lively -- in, at least, as good spirits as a group of angry disgruntled mutants-and-allies protesting egregious human rights abuses can be. The counter-protest is, remarkably, vastly dwarfed by the actual rally, a smaller group organized by the Friends of Humanity and though they are quite vociferous in their denunciation of Terrorism they're giving the much larger crowd a wide berth, for now. Threaded through the crowd are all the usual suspects -- Legal Observers in neon green hats, a number of medics lurking at the periphery with red duct-taped crosses on their gear, a very passionate man with a bullhorn /trying/ to lead a chant though he isn't quite getting the crowd in rhythm. A PA system set up on a flatbed truck where speakers have been holding forth -- some ex-Prometheans talking about their experiences, one city councilwoman throwing her voice of support behind the group. Nearby the speakers, Taylor is looking particularly noticeable, today. In jeans and a heavily modified tee shirt from Ryan Black's /See it Through/ tour, quite a /number/ of his excessive allotment of Limb are occupied with holding picket signs. 'Mutant Rights ARE Human Rights', 'Free Jackson Holland', 'Free Ryan Black', 'Justice For Prometheans', 'Black Mutant Lives Matter - Rest In Power Malik Thompson', 'Mutants Rise Up', 'Freak Pride'. It's still left plenty of limbs /free/ -- with one of them he is munching his way through a hot dog, leaning up against a streetlamp as he considers the current speaker. Steve has arrived a little late to the rally, having come straight from work. He looks quite put-together, in a white dress shirt with blue pinstripes, charcoal gray vest, and matching trousers, his iconic shield slung across his back. He passes through the small knot of organizers with some nods of greeting, a couple handshakes and a fist bump, and comes to rest beside Taylor. << I think every cop in Manhattan is here, >> flits through his mind as he scans the long line of bored-looking police officers and the bank of patrol cars (plus mobile command center) beyond them. Alice is perched up on a newspaper box near the edge of the crowd for a better view. She's wearing a denim jacket, a black tanktop with a rhinestone heart on it, and blue jeans torn at the knees. Her picket sign has no words on it, just a brightly colored graphic of a segment of DNA above a bold equal sign. She has the wooden post of the sign wedged between her arm and chest, one end braced on her belt to leave her hands free for her live-tweeting. Beside her, Blink is watching the speaker with rapt attentiveness. She's in a black cloak with handkerchief hems trimmed in purple and pink, the only clothing visible beneath that are flowing brown wrap pants and tall boots with many buckles. She nudges her sister when she spots Steve arriving. "Hey, Captain America's here." "Oh not just them," Taylor is answering Steve cheerfully even if he hadn't actually spoken /aloud/, "I'm pretty sure they've called in the state cops too. Possibly reinforcements from Jersey. It's /very/ threatening sign waving, see?" Two of his arms wiggle, wobbling their signs at Steve. "Are you going to speak?" Steve only now looks up to read -- all of Taylor's signs. Smiles. "/I/ don't feel very threatened," he says lightly. "I hadn't planned on it, though if they ask me, I will. I'd rather see more new faces up there." He's looking at the speaker now. "People whose voices often don't get heard at all." Even while Steve and Taylor are discussing the strength of the police presence, it is growing stronger, perhaps in response to swelling numbers of protesters flooding in from work. The NYPD helicopter that has been circling overhead is joined by another. Not one but /three/ police vans arrive at the periphery, just beyond the line of patrol cars blocking off the road. The newest cops on site are in riot gear, though they do not yet approach the crowd, remaining instead in their staging area near the vans. When the current speaker finishes and the organizers are still juggling the microphone (a few ragged chants have started up, not in time with each other), the police mobile command center fires up /its/ loudspeakers. "Attention," the amplified voice is harsh and scratchy, "this is an unlawful demonstration. By the authority of the NYPD, you must clear the street. Disperse in a calm and orderly fashion." The message repeats twice more, though by the third time it's quite drowned out by the angry voices of the gathered protesters. "I'm never going to hear the end of it from mom if I let you get arrested," Blink says, climbing up to kneel next to Alice so she can see the riot cops. "You're never gonna hear the end of it from /me/ if you drag me away," Alice says, "and I live a lot closer than mom." She has to shout to be heard now over the noise now, but her thumbs never stop moving on her phone. Blink shakes her head, tugs at her sister's arm. "Come /on./" Alice shrugs her hand off. "/You/ come on." And with that she hops off of the box to join the people surging up toward the police to form a line of their own, much less armored but greater in number. "I mean, not that that's not great too --" Taylor is looking kind of pointedly at the stage where a skinny wide-eyed teenager with a numerous scattering of scars to go with her freckles is just climbing down off stage, "but there's plenty of people who probably /came/ here hoping -- oh my god are you fucking shitting me." Taylor's brows are lifting as the police swarm in. One of his arms is unfurling (and unfurling, and unfurling) to wrap around the shoulder of the girl who's just gotten off the makeshift podium, drawing her in close to his side. "Karrie what did you /do/." Karrie squeaks, leaning in under Taylor's arm. "It wasn't /me/ all I said is I wouldn't even have a life if not for -- hey if they're going to arrest us /anyway/ maybe I /should/ have threatened some terrorism." She brightens at this thought, her smile full of braces when she grins. "Do you think there's still time to get back up?" Taylor just shakes his head, stifling a small /groan/ as he takes his time wandering in to join the line, slotting himself in beside Alice. Some of his multitude of arms are lifting his signs higher -- mostly so that none of them bonk the heads of the people beside him. The rest of them he lowers to his side. His eyes flick across the line of police, mind stretching out to listen to /theirs/. << Well, this is familiar. >> Steve's memories of picket lines long past all blur together into a chaos of signs and shouting and billy clubs, but this doesn't stop him from following the shifting crowd toward the police line. He pulls the shield from his back and straps it to his left forearm, though he keeps it lowered, at his side, as he makes his way up front. The police, armor and shields and weapons notwithstanding, are all raw nerves. The MID's shoulder patches are prominent among those on the front, though they're not alone. The annoucement repeats. Another line of cops in riot gear forms up behind the first, backed by yet more on horseback. << Jesus, it's hard to even /look/ at that, >> from a stout, tall black MID cop whose eyes are fixed on Taylor behind his heavy plastic visor. << Should leave this to the fucking freak squad, we ain't getting paid enough for this shit, >> thinks the human officer standing beside him. << Whose bright idea was this? >> from a white shirt leaning against the side of the mobile command center, staring balefully down at his phone. << Just want my goddamn dinner. >> Once another cycle of the amplified warning has finished, he straightens up and puts his phone away, leaning to mumble into his radio instead. "All units, go go go." At the order, the first line of police surge forward, pushing into the protesters if they do not yield. Alice does a double take when Taylor appears at her side, her brown eyes huge as she fights down a visceral disgust at his closeness (even though she saw him from a distance earlier and thought he looked pretty cool, then). Her attention snaps back to the line of armored police quickly though, and then down to her phone, which she holds up to snap a picture. 'Cops staring us down' she starts to type, but then backspaces over it when they start moving, 'Cops trying to push us back' followed by a bunch of self-completing hashtags. She doesn't yield, but the cops push her back easily enough. The people /behind/ her also do not yield, and crushed between them she looses her footing, stumbling with a yelp and going down. Blink isn't far behind her, and struggles to get to her. "Alice!" she cries. "Hey /stop!/" Taylor grins, bright, at the MID cop, shoulders squaring and stance firming. He is difficult at first to budge, tall and solidly muscular, swaying back but not actually /moving/. At least not until Alice falls beside him -- he twists aside a moment later, eyes slightly wider. "Hey, /hey/, there's people getting /trampled/ here --" One of his arms is snaking downward, curling in a firm rope of muscle up under Alice's shoulders to help her back to her feet. "You okay?" Steve pushes toward the front with many an "excuse me" and "pardon me." Blink's shout, then Taylor's, draw his attention. << It's almost like they're /trying/ to start a riot. >> "Give us some space," /his/ voice booms above the general noise, the edge of command in it unmistakable. The big MID cop in front of Taylor isn't pleased about having his photo taken point-blank. << These fucking kids with their phones, >> is his reaction, and when he pushes forward he pushes hard. He is /strong/--stronger even than his impressive stature would suggest, and he doesn't pay much mind when Alice stumbles. When Taylor stretches out an arm, though, he recoils inwardly, little caring that the inky black appendage is reaching for the girl who had fallen down. He lurches forward and slams his tall shield into Taylor, lifting his club to strike at the boy. Alice grabs hold of Taylor's arm and scrambles unsteadily to her feet. Having just narrowly avoided the boots of the big cop in front of them, she is definitely /not/ caring how inhuman the limb wrapped around her looks or feels. She's shaking hard, but her camera is recording now. Blink finally makes it to Alice's side, taking hold of her sister's arm. Her huge green eyes go even bigger when she sees the cop lift his club to strike Taylor. Her hands start to glow purple, but all the while she's thinking, << Not enough room not enough room! >> << Oh god -- >> It's a pained cry that registers not so much audibly as in the minds of everyone around -- though Taylor, oddly, is wincing even /before/ the shield actually connects with him. Two of his smaller arms are pressing in against his temples, teeth gritted as the anger and panic in the crowd grows. The cop actually striking him elicits a louder verbal cry, though. He drops two of his signs, those arms shooting forward to brace his fall against the ground -- though several of his /other/ limbs are writhing, curling out and then in, wrapping in protective coils around him as the cop's baton lifts. His teeth are still gritted as he falls to his knees amid the press of people. Steve slips past Blink as the cop lifts his club high. He doesn't panic, an island of calm amidst the terror and excitement. The red, white, and blue shield on his arm gleams in the afternoon sun as he raises it to intercept the blow. It connects with a pretty unimpressively soft thud, though, to his not inconsiderable surprise, the impact actually knocks Steve back a few inches. << Right. MID. >> He doesn't strike back against the cop, but puts himself between him and Taylor. "Is /this/ what 'serve and protect' means to you?!" The first line of police is starting to fragment as some parts of the crowd push back /much/ more effectively than others. There's a lot of jostling and shouting and chaos. Someone in the crowd is shouting for medics. The MID officer who struck at Taylor narrows his eyes when his baton hits another shield instead. << Oh, great, Captain Fucking America. >> "You are under arrest, get on the ground /now!/" Though some of his coworkers have somewhat more mixed feelings. Knocking a bunch of mutant hooligans around is one thing, but going up again Steve Rogers? Even when he simply stands his ground without fighting back, some of them are hesitating, trying to give him a berth. At the very least, it does finally clear some space around Taylor. Alice finally steady on her own feet, reaches to try and help Taylor when /he/ falls, but she's certainly not strong enough to hold him up or pull him away from the club-happy cop's reach. And then there is a Captain America in front of them. "Hey, guy, are you--are you hurt?" she's talking to Taylor urgently, though it might be hard to hear her over the noise of the crowd. Blink at least saw Steve coming and turns her attention to Taylor. << Maybe he hit his head. >> "Hang on, I can get you out of here," she kneels down beside him, stretching out an arm into the space the other cops have so kindly left them. A bright purple glow shoots from her hand and expands into a swirling portal. "Come on!" Taylor is not paying the people around him a whole /lot/ of attention, at the moment. His arms uncurl again, snaking in a tangled mass around him as his hands lift to press to his head as well. "Too loud --" He's mumbling this more to himself than to Blink or Alice. His eyes open to stare at the purple glow, uncomprehending. << No I -- where's Karrie? >> Though his friend has gotten pulled farther down in the crowd, lost somewhere between the line of police and protesters. Steve lowers his shield slightly. "You want to arrest me, fine, but let the injured go." But he isn't getting on the ground, and he isn't moving from his spot. The cop facing down Steve seems to take his refusal to kneel as an invitation. He bashes their shields together and raises his club to strike at his head. The officers around him step back even farther when Blink's portal shows up, their fear sudden and cold. << Shit, what the fuck is that?>> << Some kind of attack? Or shield? >> But they're spreading out, almost completely surrounding the little group. The protest is growing more chaotic, people shouting and pushing, some to go toward the action and some to get away. "Teleportation. You're hurt, I can get you to safety." Blink looks up nervously at the cops surrounding. << Oh crap oh crap oh crap. >> The portal shuts, but she opens one right back up just as it vanishes. "I don't know who Karrie is, but if you show me I'll come back and find her." She shakes Alice by the shoulder, "/Go!/" "No!" Taylor is making a slow attempt to get back to his feet -- only slightly unsteadily! Though one long ropey limb still curls protectively around his side where he's been hit and his hands still press against his temples as though that would keep the clamour and panic out of his mind. "I'm /fine/ I just need -- to find --" His eyes scrunch shut, shoulders tensing. Steve ducks his head, catching the blow of the club again with his shield. Knowing the MID officer's strength by now, he has braced properly this time. << This is getting ridiculous. >> "Will you stop with the club and just put the cuffs on me already?" he says, sounding kind of /exasperated/. He hazards a glance back at Taylor and the two girls beside him, then beyond them at the confused, fearful mass of protesters, half of them pushing back against the cops and half of them trying to get away. Marinov had been standing back and watching the protest unfold without any hood or goggles to hide what they are, given the subject matter of the protest they figured it was better to be loud and proud, just wearing a knee-length black skirt and a green tank-top; despite any chill in the air, the fuzzy youth does not seem bothered. The teen has never been one to be able to read a crowd or act intelligently, so when things turn suddenly, they find themself rather surprised by the whole thing, looking around to see if there's anyone to choose as a role model in how to react to this turn of events. Marinov sights Taylor pretty quickly (Taylor does a good job standing out in a crowd), sniffing the air and then dropping to all fours to scamper over and help get their fellow Xavierite out of a jam. Even though they do not have a plan either. Steve's steadfast refusal to get his head bashed infuriates the would-be head-basher behind his own, much larger shield. But he has reinforcements now, the three MID officers nearest having surrounded him. Two of them bodily take hold of Steve and shove him to his knees, shouting variations on the theme of "Get on the ground" over each other. This spectacle may have taken some pressure off of Taylor and the Ferguson sisters, but only for a moment. The somewhat fractured line of riot shields continues pushing forward. Other protesters are falling before the onslaught, some to be pinned down and zip-tied, others scrambling back up and fleeing. There are people crying out their friends' names, hurling invectives at the cops, and more generalized yelling and screaming all around. Soon another pair of officers are converging on Taylor--they just can't seem to stay away from him FOR SOME REASON--and barking orders at him to get down. Another aims a kind of alarmed /kick/ in the general direction of Marinov. The Ferguson sisters help Taylor to his feet. Once it looks like he can keep his own feet, Alice turns her phone back onto Steve and the cop trying (and failing) to beat on him, even while she slowly backs away from the broken line of advancing riot shields. This portal closes, again with no passengers. Blink is clearly not going to leave without Alice, though she's maybe unexpectedly calmer now despite the chaos growing worse all around them. "Alright, good luck finding your friend," she says as she retreats the /slow/ way, along with Alice. She turns around and almost trips over Marinov as they approach on all fours, and in trying to avoid the collision slams sidelong into the cop who was trying to kick the furry teen. << Have you ever considered it's maybe /hard/ for people to /leave/ calmly when you surround them and beat them? >> The irritated snap of Taylor's voice does not come aloud but in the minds of those around him -- maybe he was trying to talk to the approaching cops but the overloaded telepath is not doing a very good job of focusing just at the moment. "-- /Christ/ hey chill they weren't even --" When he does manage to speak it doesn't really come out in a full sentence. Just a startled sort of worry -- three of his looong arms shoot outward, curling down and over in a kind of protective /canopy/ between Marinov and the cop's boot. Another lifts, bracing Blink so she doesn't fall /back/ to the ground in the panicking crowd. "This," he informs Marinov with a deepening frown, "was /supposed/ to be a peaceful protest/." Steve drops to his knees, at last. The gloved hands shoving him down certainly make his descent more abrupt, but he does not flinch when he hits the pavement. Though he's too tightly ringed by armored bodies to see the cops attacking Taylor and Marinov, he hears the telepathic message, at least. << They're trying to make a point. >> The thought isn't exactly /directed/ at anyone, but it seethes with anger. He /wants/ to fight back, but he knows it would make the situation even more dangerous for everyone else. He crosses his hands behind his back and waits. Marinov sees the kick coming letting loose some jumbled attempt at profanity in surprise, "Fut shicker!" They raise their arms to protect themselves against it and the near-miss collision with the Feguson sisters, "Shit! Sor- Oops!" They look back to the cop quickly, realizing he means them harm, expression bewildered and wild. Seeing the protective canopy appear, the youth calms slightly and Marinov answers hurriedly, "I know, I was just worried 'cause I saw the guys with the sticks coming at you! I thought maybe you needed help. Don't worry about me, I'm alright." Despite what the teen says, mentally they already seem to be pushing back on their more feral nature and just barely keeping stable. They sniff the air lightly, eyes and ears turning a moment towards Captain America. << Shit, he even smells handsome. >> Marinov quickly shakes the stupid thought off and whispers, "But what about the Captain? They can't arrest him, can they?" There's a rippling mental (and vocal) chorus of << Telepath! >>, mostly from the MID contingent. At least /one/ of them is turning to ask his radio for psionic backup. The cop who was trying to kick Marinov looses an indignant bark when Blink crashes into him. He whirls on her and slams her right /back/ like a preschooler who'd just been pushed on the playground. The sudden apperance of inky black arms around Marinov and Blink is definitely more than he was bargaining for, and he jumps back now, alarmed and angry. << WHOA, I am not getting paid enough for this shit! >> The two cops who had been descending on Taylor were at least /expecting/ Lovecraftian horror, and seem little dissuaded by the teen's arms /or/ his admonishment. "Get /down/ and put your hands behind your back!" one of them roars, reaching to shove the teen to the street. The other one is yelling "On ground NOW" like a backup singer with absolutely no rhythm, though he's much more reluctant to touch Taylor, thinking << Freak hasn't got enough back to put all /those/ things behind! >> The four cops surrounding Steve are joined by two more, though they can't even physically get close enough to touch him. Somehow, between all of them, they manage to clap a pair of actual steel handcuffs on him--only the best for Cap, no cheap plastic ties here. "Hey, leave them alone!" Alice looks just about ready to jump the cop attacking her sister and Marinov, though even if she'd wanted to there are just too many bodies and arms in the way. She keeps filming instead. Blink might not have fallen just from stumbling into the cop the first time, but the shield bash definitely would have taken her down withou Taylor's arm bracing her. As it is, the blow only knocks the air from her lungs, and she gives a kind of shortened yelp of pain as she spins away from him. She rights herself and glances at Marinov, then at Steve. "Captain America? I think he'll be fine, and I don't think we'd be able to help him if he wasn't." "I mean, they can definitely /arrest/ him but he'll be out again in two seconds like. He's got some kind of fucking permanent Get Out Of Jail Free card it's --" Taylor is shaking his head -- though he /is/ kneeling (not that he has much /choice/ after the new arrivals shove him down again), his hands folding behind his back. It still leaves an extraordinary surplus of /limb/ that is Not Behind His Back, though his tentacles now just hang loose at his side. Though his teeth are gritted, brow furrowed -- kind of pained, kind of worried -- he gives a crooked smile to Marinov. "If I'm lucky," he says to them, "they'll keep /us/ overnight. I have a test tomorrow I did not even slightly study for." Steve puts up no fight as the cops finally succeed in cuffing him. He says nothing, though he is praying silently, sometimes with words and sometimes without, that no lasting harm comes to anyone present. He keeps his head up, defiant. He meets the eyes of his captors, his own steady, an abiding anger in their pale blue depths. "Uh, yeah, you're right," says Marinov dumbly upon being told they likely couldn't help Cap out, "I guess yeah, he'll be out in no time..." The teen puts up their hands and shouts over the din of the crowd, "He didn't do anything, we're leaving peacefully, yeah?" Their ears fold back and, while Marinov is trying to look as non-threatening as possible, their claws are slightly extended and their pointy teeth are showing. They look back towards Blink, looking generally uncertain. The truly excessive mob of officers around Steve haul him to his feet and shuffle him toward the staging area and the vans waiting there. They hurry past eager news crews and gawking passers-by who have gathered out beyond the lines of patrol cars. Meanwhile, the two cops hovering over Taylor have a moment of silent disagreement over who gets to actually /touch/ the many-limbed teenager. It's finally the slightly more timid one who slips the plastic cuffs over Taylor's wrists, yanking them just a little tighter than altogether necessary before they escort him away, as well. It's only after Taylor has been cuffed and taken away that the MID's psionic backup activates in a cloud of telepathic static that may more may not be preferable to the anger, fear, and pain of the protesters or the anger, fear, and exhilaration of the cops. To those without psionic powers, nothing has changed. While the first arrests are underway, the remaining riot cops are re-forming their ranks and pushing forward again. The cop who had tried to kick Marinov is joined by others and they break into a sudden run at the Feruson sisters and the furry teenager between them, shouting for them to get down on the ground, as well. Alice has kept her camera trained at the line of cops the whole time they're taking Steve and Taylor away. Blink, though, is hurrying to her side, steering her sister (who's walking backward) back into the crowd and away from the running cops. "Hey," she's raising her voice now, little as it probably helps in the very noisy street, "anyone who wanna get out, come with us." She isn't headed not for the rear of the protest, but toward the center of the crowd, where there's more space. Taylor only hisses, shoulders tensing up as the cuffs are (overly) tightened around his wrists. Which -- still leaves a whole lot of free arm, really. Not that he's /doing/ anything with them -- the longest of his arms are wrapping around and around himself, the other just hanging at his sides as he's led away. For the moment, at least, the Fergusons outpace the police. For the moment, in fact, /everyone/ seems to be outpacing the police, for they've started to pull /back/ with their arrestees. That moment passes, however, when a metal canister goes rattling across the asphalt and spinning into the midst of the crowd, spewing thick white clouds of tear gas from which panicked protesters scatter in fits of coughing and choking. "I'm not resisting!" says Marinov, getting down at the request from the police, clearly not understanding what Blink's escape plan is and not wanting to go against the police orders to invite further police brutality. Once Marinov is on the ground, and hears the clinking of metal against the ashphalt, realization dawns on the felinoid teen. "You motherfuckers," growls Marinov before starting to cough and choke some more. The youth crawls away from the source. Blink grits her teeth and raises one voluminous sleeve to cover her nose and mouth. A small portal opens just beneath the tear gas canister and another opens underneath a patrol car near where some of the cops are hanging back to rest their arms and watch the show. This done, she turns to the largest space nearby and waves the people whose attention she'd gotten closer. "I can teleport you out of here, a few at a time." She doesn't give any more explanation, just opens up a swirling purple portal and ushers the nearest two people through. It let out at the end of the block, a little bit past where a small knot of street medics have set up shop. Blink doesn't linger, though, but hops right back into the center of the crowd, where Alice has repeated her explanation and gotten people to group up in twos and threes. The shifting of the canister isn't /immediately/ noticed amidst the general chaos and under the smokescreen of the gas that it was spraying. But soon enough the white clouds amongst the protesters start thinning, and /new/ white clouds are billowing out from under a patrol car in the staging area. Many of the police have their gas masks on, but so deep in their own territory this is by no means a universal precaution. Coughing, hacking, and cursing cops scatter from the car in question. Blink's first two passengers are very disoriented when they emerge suddenly outside of the boxed-in protest, and the next batch is far less hesitant to go with her. As the tear gas starts clearing, though, a line of masked police are advancing again, and by their body language if nothing else, they look /pissed./ Marinov finds themself directly in the path of a big, burly MID cop who might not see them--or might not care at all who gets trampled. Marinov quickly looks around and decides to cut their losses a ditch towards Blink, scrambling away from the burly cop coming their way, still coughing due to their sensitive nose and throat having been assaulted by the tear gas. Marinov also keeps an eye out for any other kind of route out of there, even if it means climbing a tree. Marinov only narrowly avoids the cop (who does not pursue them specifically, perhaps having not seen them, after all), but escape routes are few. Probably if they were quick they could get /past/ some of the cops, but it's also a recipe for a beating. Getting to a tree from the center of the street at this point would not be the easiest feat, but doable if one were quick, perhaps worth it for a very skilled climber. Meanwhile, the semi-circle of cops is closing in again, their approach slowing only slightly as they fire off more tear gas. Blink come and goes with her passengers in a near constant flicker of swirling purple light, and by the time the new tear gas rolls toward them she is visibly tiring. There are more people than she can possibly take, and she has lost track of Alice through the blinding clouds of gas. She finds Marinov, though, and pushes /them/ through a portal along with several other random disoriented protesters, remaining behind herself. These last escapees find themselves standing a block away from the action, near a throng of other protesters in the sunlight and more-or-less clean air.