From X-Men: rEvolution
Dramatis Personae

Jared, Shane, Steve


"He's gonna blush again."


<NYC> Chimaera Arts - Brooklyn

This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses in DUMBO, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. /Unlike/ most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "" in smaller letters.

The warehouse is moderately large and decorated with graffiti art in various styles--some of it recognizable as the work of renowned local street artists. A pair of monstrous scrap metal sculptures, perhaps still works in progress, flank the entrance. The building itself has undergone significant renovation recently, complete with wiring, plumbing, and a modular partitioning system. The grounds, too, have been cleaned up, ramshackle fences torn down and rusting detritus removed in favor of reclaimed (and brilliantly repainted) outdoor furniture ringing an impressively engineered firepit.

Jared paces back and forth across the wide, open space of the warehouse. All around him, various people - mutant and human - are working away at posters and signs. Spraypaint, markers, crayons, paint, and more. Periodically, he stops to look down at a sign and offer a suggestion or two - no commands or orders, that's not how you organize in a social movement. After getting a smile and nod in return, he smiles and nods back and goes about his rounds. Looking around himself, he decides that everything seems to be going pretty well, and so he pulls out his phone to check his e-mails, trying to skim through the new ones quickly so he can get back to his own personal project tonight...a large sign, multicolored text drawn in paint and the background illustrated in colorful spraypaint, the text reading MUTANT RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS....

Outside the warehouse's entrance there is a low humming sound -- it draws nearer in a steady drone before finally cutting off. Not long afterwards there is another face trotting into the workparty -- or, well, /presumably/ there's a face there somewhere. At the moment said Face is hidden under a motorcycle helmet (painted with grinning toothy sharkface on its front) attached to a Very Tiny rider dressed in neat pinstripe slacks and pale grey-green button-down, a leather vest over top. (The large patch on the back of the vest reads MUTANT MONGRELS MC around a Jolly Roger insignia, the skull grinning and sharktoothed as well and a pair of crossed violin bows where crossbones would otherwise be.)

Fittingly, when Shane removes the helmet his face is /also/ bright and grinning, mouth far too wide and far too full of very sharp teeth. "{/So/,}" he's saying in Quebecois-accented French to his companion as he pivots on a heel to walk backwards into the warehouse, "{you ready to saddle up on one /yourself/ now?} -- Woah hey this is a pretty good turnout." That last in English, mildly surprised as he surveys the room.

Shane's passenger on the bike dwarfs him easily even before they both stand up. He wears a brown leather jacket open over a red t-shirt with a bright yellow star on the chest, much-abused blue jeans, and scuffed combat boots, but most eye-catching of all is the round face of the shield slung across his back -- red and white concentric rings around a white star in a solid blue circle at the center. Steve pulls off his helmet (blue, with a pair of stylized white wings painted on the sides and a simple white capital 'A' on the forehead) as he follows the sharkboy inside, blond hair tousled and smile somewhat less sharp, if no less bright. "{Yes, absolutely! How I have managed so long without a flying motorcycle I do /not/ know.}" His French, though continental and rustic, with a strong Provence accent, is also colored with Quebecois flare, to the discerning ear. His English, though, is pure New York. "Good! The march is expected to be big tomorrow -- hopefully we haven't lost /too/ many medics to the RNC..." He waves as eyes turn to him. "Good evening! Might we lend our hands?"

Jared is sliding his phone back into his pocket, having just finished checking his e-mails, and is about to head over to his own project, when he hears a familiar voice. The voice clicks in his mind as he turns and his spirits start to rise as his eyes confirm what his mind is telling him. Not only is it great person Shane - always a pleasure to have around, and a great asset in the fight for mutant rights - it's him. Captain America. Jared's mind flashes back to the couple times they've met, and then it clicks that as he's the one organizing this event, he's the main point of contact. He smiles and begins to stride quickly over to the duo. As he gets close, he stretches his hand out, his smile at this point wide and welcoming. "Shane, and Captain Rogers. Believe me, not only would it be our honour, but it's always a pleasure whenever either of you are involved in anything we do."

The widening of Shane's solid-black eyes is slight, really -- for him, at least -- though given the disproportionate ratio of eyes-to-face that he /has/ it makes the effect look somewhat startling nevertheless. "Holy shit /that's/ a welcome. 'Pleasure' isn't usually the /first/ thing people associate with me showing up." His grin is broader still, as he tucks his helmet underneath an arm. "And it's a terribly sad fact of life," -- this in an aside to Steve, "but did you know that /most/ people have to go through life without flying motorcycles? I dunno how the fuck they manage. Anyway Joshua's been medicking there but will -- probably also be around. If we're short. So right, dude," This time it's to Jared, as he reaches to clasp the man's hand in his own (clammy-cool) (webbed) one, "it's probably not kosher to make all my signs be like 'die human scum' right because holy /shit/ after watching some of the speeches coming /out/ of the RNC it's tempting as hell."

Steve blushes ever so slightly as he shakes the proffered hand, his grip firm and his fingers much-calloused. "Thank you for organizing this, Mr. Williams, and pleasure is mine. Honestly!" He lowers his voice -- not enough that to be lost below the quiet din of chatter in the warehouse. "I like drawing much, much better than giving speeches." His pale blue eyes skid down and aside at Shane. "I wouldn't /recommend/ it, but if that's what you feel called to express..." He shrugs, a subtle rise of broad shoulders. "So," to Jared again, "this all looks well underway already, but is there anything in particular you'd like help with?" One hand waves at Jared's work-in-progress with a slightly sheepish smile. "I'm a fan of painting banners, but I'll happily tape cardboard to sticks if that's what we need to do."

Jared chuckles, and nods, then motions to the rest of the space with his arm. He points to the far-front-left section of the space. "That place could use some help. We've got largely the signs and poster boards of the first few rows of protestors and marchers done, but we still need to get a bunch done for the middle-rows - the thirty to forty people past the first few rows, you understand." He looks back at Shane and Steve, his eyebrows rising a bit in an expression of relaxation. "With your extra hands here, I think we can get all this done in the next..ehh, two to three hours? And, honestly, Captain Rogers, I don't mean to make you blush again, but your mere presence here will motivate everyone here. The mutants I've spoken to, well, you don't know what it means to have an icon of America like you standing on the right side of history where they're concerned."

"He's gonna blush again," Shane predicts cheerfully. "-- I feel called to express a whole lot of things I probably shouldn't. Anyway, nobody'd want /me/ painting on anything but I can stick signs on sticks like nobody's business." His smile has slipped just a little bit slantways as he steps towards the area Jared had indicated, clapping Steve lightly against his back in passing. "He's right, you know, I certainly feel more motivated already."

"True to Shane's prediction, Steve blushes yet again, his head dipping slightly. "If there's a right side to history, it'll be up to the people to /make/ it happen." Though here his brows furrow just a bit. "Oh gosh, that came out like a sound bite. Well, I'm sure I'll be more of a boon to morale with my hands at work, regardless." He cracks his knuckles and starts toward the section Jared indicated, but pauses before he gets more than a couple of steps to glance back at the organizer. "Oh, and just 'Steve' is fine."