ArchivedLogs:Walking While Mutant

Walking While Mutant
Dramatis Personae Alexandrine, Eric, Ezekiel, Hive, Jackson, Jim, Micah, Shelby, Siddhartha, Tatters, Lily, Mayor Lovet
In Absentia	2013-02-06 A little mayorial speechifying. A little mayorial assassination attempt.
Location <NYC> City Hall
A stately building, white and pillared and with a generous expanse of windows and appropriately patriotic flags posted atop it. It looks like a City Hall. If you saw this building, you would think, I can probably find me some Mayor there. It's deceptively sunny out, a fierce bright day that does nothing to negate the chill in the air. At the steps of City Hall, the gathered crowd is gathered in /bundles/, thick layers and warm winter gear. There's a tense sort of exepectation made tenser by the fidgety waiting to get out of the cold. By the front of the stairs the press makes up a sea of cameras and microphones, and further back roped-off sections have been designated Free Speech Zones for those who came to protest and not simply to watch. If many of the more obvious physical mutants are getting shunted into those cordoned-off areas /regardless/ of their desire to protest (in one case, even, regardless of press pass), well. The police aren't perfect. Jax isn't protesting. But he's here all the same, right at the /edge/ of the protesting Corral, hands tucked into his pockets as he does his best not to look /too/ shivery and pathetic. He's only halfway succeeding. Shiver. Shiiiver. He tucks his hat down further over his head, leaning a hand against one of the posts that ropes off the FreeSpeechifyers. "-- Seems kinda less than free, don't it," he's sort of vaguely murmuring, down towards the corral. "Maybe it's irony. Maybe the police are hipsters." Hive is frowning at Jax's shivering. He drags the colorful Southerner close to himself, wrapping arms around him like he is going to singlehandedly stave off the cold. "Dude, you never look so not-native as in winter. I'm getting you long underwear for your birthday." Shelby isn't an activist and she's not obvious in her mutation so she takes a pass on the Free Speech Zone. They've got a shitty view, anyway. She's at the rear of the "normal" crowd, back a ways, near a lamppost and a wrought-iron covered garbage can. Her plan: climb up onto the garbage can so she has a decent line of site on the festivities at the front. Her geetar is hanging from its strap crossed her shoulders, digging into the copious layers of clothing she has on to protect against cold. While she waits for the fun to start, she's also keeping an eye on the pen they've set up for the troublemakers. One thought is clear and one thought only: Moooo. Tatters crosses her arms and leans back against a tree, some distance back from the protesters, hood up and a scarf pulled across her face. Oddly, she doesn't look terribly suspicious for a bundled-up sort-of-human with her face concealed; mostly she just looks /cold./ And annoyed, from what can be divined from her eyes; she doesn't want to be here, and had no intention of coming out to stand in the cold and listen to some guy talk about how terrible she is. But she's here because her sister is: about the edges of the crowd flits a petite female figure in a hoodie with a bandanna across her face and a pair of mismatched, black and white eyes scanning the crowd and the podium, one hand on a satchel filled with all sorts of illict art supplies. The Flower Knight has taken the field, today, flickering between the shifting wedges of unobserved space. No one sees her. Micah is striding along with a purpose, looking a bit bewildered at the forming crowd. He finally stops just short of the gathering for a moment, letting his enormous bag of irregular, lumpy objects rest on the ground, but not releasing his grip on the handles. He thumbs a button on his Bluetooth earpiece a la Uhura and waits for someone to pick up on the other end. "Tank, I need an exit. Alternatively, I need to know whatinell's going on out here today. I already had to ditch Lucille in the nearest legal-ish parking I could find, and I tried to hoof it the rest of the way for Marissa's brace delivery, but..." He pauses a beat. "Today? Wasn't that s'posed to be Monday? I thought I moved far enough /away/ from D.C. not to get caught up in every... It looks like somebody smeared molasses 'round an anthill out here... Could you call and reschedule that appointment with Marissa's mom? I think I'm stuck here for a /minute/. Thanks, Janine." He sighs heavily as he taps the phone off, shrugs, and decides to go see what all the fuss is about. What, did Jim notice a flickering blond? Maybe. But he's got a practiced apathetic-dick scowl against crowds, and he stalks along the outer edge of the crowd with a camera slung around his neck and a cup of black coffee held against his chest. He shoulders up alongside Shelby's trashcan, "You got a good view up there?" Pause. "Hop on." He doesn't say it /warmly/, just a gruff-grunt and ambles around to face the back of his shoulders towards her, a narrow-eyed scan landing on the Hive-Jax duo by the penned in freefolk. Standing in black riot gear, heavy armor with a thick clear shield emblazoned with 'POLICE' across it, Eric looks rather intimidating compared to his normal posture and clothing. Standing not too far from the stage, on the opposite side of the steel gates as the crowd, his eyes scan the crowd, stepping carefully back and forth. His eyes glance back up the the stage where the podium is, and a number of dress-uniformed officers stand, guarding the stage. Alexandrine is wrapped up against the cold, actual jeans on with winter boots, and a puffy black jacket with gloves. Red hair is loose, catching against her bright blue scarf and shining like a coppery beacon in the sunlight. Blue eyes are hidden behind sunglasses as she winds her way into the back of the crowd, with polite, southern accented apologies to people she bumps into and brushes. She has a hot coffee in one hand, her mental shields lowering bit by bit, to listen to the swirl of thoughts around her. The doors to the building open, which doesn't send a hush over the crowd, just a rippling murmur and flurry of camera-flashes. Mayor Lovet is a tall man, broad-shouldered, broad-muscled, with bulldog cheeks and a generous expanse of forehead aided by his receding hairline. He waits the appropriate amount of Photo Op time before lifting his hand, stepping up to his podium to speak; his naturally deep voice is projected through the crowd by a host of speakers relaying it far back. "Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, welcome. We have gathered here today at City Hall to discuss a pressing issue that faces us all in these troubled times. We have come together to reflect on the changing winds of the world, and on the challenges that we all face. We have come to take, together, the first few steps towards a better, safer New York City." The swirl of thoughts in the crowd is -- pretty crowdlike. Some people are bored. Some people are nervous. The people by the protest pens hold the most anger, though not /all/ the anger. Just a healthy dose of it, which only ripples deeper as the mayor begins to speak. << Better, >> << Safer, >> these echoes come in some cases with healthy doses of skepticism. But in many more cases, they come with a large surge of hope. Ezekiel shuffles his way through the crowd, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. His hoodie is pulled up over his beanied head, almost meeting his aviator sunglasses. He scanns the crowd for people that he knows, or would know him. Jackson does not protest the warmth-manhandling, leaning in against Hive gratefully. "Where I come from temperatures are more sensible," he grumbles. "The cops aren't hipsters, though, have you seen their bikes? They have /sweet/ rides. None of that fixie nonsense. Plus, um --" He glances over towards the riot cops, shivering a little more despite his Hiveshield. "That's not any thriftstore getup." But then there's a Mayor, and he's reluctantly looking that way. His jaw tightens, his slump against Hive a little more pronounced. << Safer like what, get rid of all of us? >> He catches a glimpse of Ezekiel as the man makes his way through the crowd, straightening to jerk his chin up in a nod to the other man. "Hey. Dancingpartner." Future dancingpartner, anyway. Jax lives in hope. "S'decent but if someone starts shooting..." Oh hey, check this out. Shelby regards Jim's offered shoulders with bemusement, leaving him to stand there while she thinks it over. Jesus, he really is auditioning to be my dad. Finally, the hilarity of the offer gets to her and she (and her guitar!) climb on. "Thanks, man." Carefully, and not without some awkwardness, but there, she has assumed the "this is a concert and not a major political speech" position, with her heels tucked back under his arms and her hands folded atop his scruffy head. All I'm missing is a lighter...and there's the asshole now. Too bad he doesn't have a screen behind him. "Oh, hey, Shelby's here." Hive comments this without looking Shelby's direction. "Someone's getting shot." Ezekiel diverts his shuffling over towards Hive and Jackson. Siddhartha stands behind a number of nervous police officers in riot gear at the edge of the crowd. He is wearing his cop face and dress uniform, along with a headset that makes him look more like secret service than NYPD. His eyes search the crowd; the wrinkles between them may or may not have anything to do with the bright sunlight. He does not watch the Mayor when the speech begins. He probably isn't even listening. His hands are clasped, behind his back, around a short loop of wooden beads. "Hah! Not it." A bright, cheerful voice comments from nearby Hive, accompanied by a running internal commentary that certainly wasn't there a second ago because jeeze there aren't any good surfaces here there's just a lot of trees, maybe I should hop around to the side of the building and OH huh that's weird, why does that guy have whitespace INSIDE his head, is someone reading his --huh, everyone around here's got it, I've never seen that before, everone but THAT guy... For a second, the smallish street artist stands there squinting suspiciously at Hive from a few paces away, then she makes an 'I'm watching you' gesture, clears her mind, and quicksteps away, vanishing as she ducks around a couple strolling nearby. Alexandrine is listening in hopes of knowing before there's going to be trouble. Self preservation and all being first and foremost, but as she sips at coffee, she stops and tips her head. Familiar feelings from people encountered before perhaps, and though he is not as shiny and glittery as she remembers, there is a Jackson. She squeezes between a couple of larger men with a smile flashed and a apology, tracking that way. "Hey, care to Runba? " She propositions Jackson with her voice pitched to be heard, but not too loud that others can't hear the speech. Jackson curls his fingers -- his gloves are not glittery but they /are/ very rainbow -- in a wave to Ezekiel as he nears, and flashes a bright smile at both Ezekiel and Alexandrine. "Shot -- oh, gosh, are you saying that cuz Shelby or cuz someone's /actually/ gonna --" He's saying this low, to Hive. Very low; it doesn't do to be talking about getting shot with all those riot cops around. "Cuz I'm with -- uh -- where'd she go?" He's blinking in a bit of puzzlement as the cheerful voice is no longer /there/. "-- Not much space to dance here," he says apologetically to Alexandrine, glancing still confused around the crowd, "but I'd so be down after, it's /cold/ here." Micah swipes some of the mop of auburn hair out of his eyes with a wool-gloved hand, realises it was actually blocking the sun pretty well, and swipes it back...now even messier than before. He stays toward the edge of the crowd, leaning casually with most of his weight shifted over his right leg. The big bag he was carrying sags open quite deliberately, so that its contents of plastic and metal orthopaedic braces are visible...clearly /not weapons/, nothing to see here. Jim is the bland-faced lower half of his grubby-people totem poll; once Shelby has climbed the tower, he seems mostly intent on ignoring her, holding up his camera to get some pictures in. His, however, are mostly snappings of the crowd, the police and the media /taking/ pictures of the speech. << If by 'changes' the Mayor means burying them in the fucking rosebush... Oh hey. Hive. >> He apparently decided he doesn't have to greet Jax /nor/ Hive as he approaches them, "Gay." He informs them instead, and, "Having fun yet?" He then uses a hand to gesture them on side to get a shot of angry faces and a few clever signs held up, at an angle that the mayor might end up to the left of the shot. Oh hey - "Get this shot." He hands up the camera towards Shelby. To free up his hands to drink his coffee. The mayor is continuing his speech, to the tune of a good deal of fluttering flashing cameras. "In the last few months, we have experienced a surge in crime perpetuated by mutants. It was not too long ago that a Federal officer laid his life down on the line defending this state against one particular mutant, and the terrorist Magneto's attacks on this great City are not long in our memory. This cannot be allowed to stand. The New York City Police Department, the greatest Police department in this great country, has been the first to have a dedicated unit to investigate mutant crimes and help to defend us against those mutants who would seek to hurt us. I am here to stand in front of you and announce that we will be redoubling our efforts. I have directed the Commissioner to expand the Mutant Crimes division and provide them with the newest equipment and training to make sure that we can keep us all safe. They are working with members of the state and federal law enforcement systems to develop new tools and tactics that they can use in this fight." Some people respond to this with polite applause. Some respond with notes of dismay. In the corral, there is one disgruntled middle-aged man fidgeting with a gun in his pocket. Not a mutant himself, he is replaying in his mind when his teenage son was killed by one of the cops on the mutant task force, who mistook the boy's sharp claws for a knife. "Gun." Hive says this low, too, no longer joking but scanning the corral thoughtfully. He doesn't seem like he's about to /do/ much about it. He doesn't seem like he's paying the speech much mind anymore, either, though. "Heads-up? Hey. You. Arcade girl." He jerks his head upwards to Alexandrine. And then releases one arm from around Jax to open it INVITINGLY towards Jim instead. "You want a piece of this." "I'll have his share." That's from Shelby, aimed down at Hive, even as she's taking the camera held up to her by Jim. She's a capable multi-tasker and slightly distracted, which takes some of the joy out of being quick with the quip. After having a look at the various buttons, she holds it to her eye and snaps a shot--then carries on with taking others. Click, click, click...hey, Mutant Task Force. The camera's lens swivels towards the cops in riot gear and those who stand behind them. Ezekiel turns away from the camera in an attempt to avoid being captured on film, then snaps his attention toward Hive. "Wait... what did you say before 'Arcade girl'?" Blue eyes meet Hive's with a nod in agreement about the gun. "Hey there." But she keeps her thoughts to herself, mostly. She's just trying to check for trouble, and is assuming (mostly) that Hive is doing the same. "We delicate Southern flowers are not made for this weather." She drawls to Jax, with a hint of a mischievious smile. Then she looks at Ezekiel, that smile shifting more towards warmth. "He said gun." She says it quietly, not wanting to start a commotion. "It's not gettin' used yet. Don't freak out." Alex bites at the edge of her bottom lip, hoping Ezekiel will not start freaking out. With only the slightest change in posture, Siddhartha shifts his attention toward the small knot of citizens at the edge of the corral. Deep brown eyes slide over Shelby and Jim, then focus on Hive. "Suspicious activity, sector three, just ouside the corral," he says quietly to his microphone, which transmit his words to the event security team's ears. "Young Asian male. No sign of a weapon, but folks around him are stirring. Just keep an eye on it." "She'll have my share," Jim relays Shelby's desires dryly. << Make her day. I'm about to /encourage/ her chasing your ass, she's been hitting on cops. >> A flash of Eric's face whisks by drolly, while adding up to his occupying party, "Hey, psk. If you're taking shots of the cops, keep the cam lower. They get skittish about that shit." Note, he doesn't tell her to /stop/, scanning the police in the distance with narrowed eyes. He's grinning belatedly towards whatever other people are arriving, a twitch-grin at Ezekial and Alexandrine... while idly angling his shoulder in beside Hive's. << Where? >> Lily appears once again by Tatters -- actually in the tree above Tatters, where she steadies herself carefully with a hand on the trunk and raises her phone to snap a reference picture of the mayor, and the line of riot cops and -- basically exactly what Shelby's doing, but with a less fancy camera. Hopping down from the branch, she lands in a crouch and dusts herself off, then leans against the same tree and carries out a quick, hushed conversation with her sister. "Mutant task force, is that good?" "Man, I dunno. Budget and better training hopefully means less of us getting shot at I guess? That one detective I talked to seemed okay." "Huh. Well I'm going to hit the side of the town hall. Stay away from the Free Speech Zone, I think there's a mind reader over there. Maybe more than one." "K. Want your box?" "Yeah." With a grin, Lily picks up the plastic crate that had been lying on the ground beside Tatters - her near-literal soapbox, as it were - and steps back around, circling the crowd counterclockwise and keeping a wary distance away from the protestors. "Expansion of the police is only one prong in the tactics that we are undertaking. I am here to announce the second as well. In consultation with members of City, State, and Federal government, the New York City Council has enacted a new ordinance to help us combat these problems. ** pause for effect ** Effective tonight at midnight, the open, voluntary display of mutant powers will be a primary offense and a violation, punishable by up to $500 dollars in fines. All of the money gathered from these fines will be earmarked to go towards the Mutant Crimes division of the NYPD and to underwrite the defense of this great City." This announcement meets with a wealth of dismay from the protest pens. A brief cheer from a few people outside it. A flurry of activity from the reporters diligently recording. And from the man in the corral, a sudden sharper spike of anger. There's a moment of pause, and then the gun in his pocket is a gun in his hand. He aims it at the podium, and pulls the trigger with a loud /crack/. Shelby obligingly tilts the camera away from the po-po to refocus on the mayor--after her finger's pressed down on the button a few more times. She's not entirely oblivious to the conversation below, and as a result there is a sourness gathering in both head and belly. Grrreat, isn't she the perfect target up here? If things go sideways--and then they do. "Holy /shit/! /GET ME DOWN/!" << /That/ cop? The one that fucked Shane?? Why the fuck does he just prey on teenagers. >> The mental image of Eric gets a brief twinge of anger that sharpens the painful blading of Hive's mental voice. "Yeah, no freaking out," he's murmuring to Ezekiel -- maaaybe also to Shelby, in agreement with Alexandrine, even as he answers mentally: << -- in the. Shit. /Jax/. >> This warning comes with an image of the gunman, as he draws his weapon. << JAX. >> Jackson pulls away from Hive sharply at the mental warning, glancing only a brief instant up towards the sky. Nearly in time with the report of gunfire, a shimmering translucent /something/ flickers into life around the mayor, Jax's muscles tensing sharply as the bullet slams into it. He leans back against Hive after, teeth gritted and his eye squeezed shut. The shield stays where it is. The reaction by the police is swift and unforgiving. "Gun! Gun! Gun!" one of the officers on the stage yells as it swings towards the Mayor, taking off at a run. He and another officer from the other direction run towards the Mayor. They skid to a stop shortly in front of the shimmering translucent barrier, looking back and forth at each other in confusion. Police officers move their shields to cover them as they immediately form into an arrow-shaped formation, pulling aside the metal barriers and stepping forward into the crowd, batons out, pushing and shoving people roughly out of the way to get to the gunman. There is a second reaction by the police. A single shot rings out, fired by one of the police snipers on a surrounding roof, ending the other man's threat only moments after it started, with a splatter of blood and brain matter against the ground and on some of the protesters surrounding him. Yeah, that was a gunshot. Or two. "Cheese and /crackers/!" Micah struggles to get himself against a wall before the inevitable stampeding happens, with some difficulty because he's toting an /enormous bag of clunkiness +1/. He skitters by, a strange bounce to his step. And with that Tatters sighs. So Walking While Mutant is ACTUALLY illegal now, that's going to be convenient for her. She'll have to check the internet later to see if that's actually enforceable--wait, was that a gunshot? An eyebrow raises as the report reaches her ears, and raises further as a shimmer appears in front of the Mayor. Welp. Time to...wait, that sounded like a /bigger/ gun. Time to stay right the frig here and wait to see if she has to bail Lily out of trouble. It's the spike of anger that has Alex moving, tossing her coffee with its lid behind her, and grabbing for Ezekiel to draw them together and try to urge him down. << Get down! Do it now!>> Alex is completely not bothering to be picky, broadcasting in a less than subtle manner. A glance at Hive and Jax, crouching low even as she closes her eyes. She focuses on the anger that had spiked, but before she can do more than think to try and help, that man, his mental and emotional presence, goes out. "Merde." She mutters, casting a much broader net to try and dampen down any sort of panic and fear, to try and keep craziness to a minimum. Futile? Probably. Ezekiel says, "Look, I just came here to listen to a speech. I just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same--" After the first gunshot goes off he runs a mental inventory << Head, shoulders, fingers, toes, ok... not hit >>. He thanks his lucky stars that he's near the edge of the 'Free Speech Zone', he might /not/ get trampled there. The second shot makes his heart sink. People are going to want away from that mess. At Alex's "request" he drops into a squat, not knowing why." "Hand gun, sector three corral!" Siddhartha isn't whispering now, but he still sounds controlled, almost calm. He draws his own sidearm, japa mala falling to the ground beside him, and shoulders past the two officers who are frozen in place in front of him just as the sniper takes down the gunman. "Crowd control," he barks at them, doing his best Drill Instructor voice, "now, now, /now!" Stopping short of the Free Speech Zone, he scans the crowd again, especially the knot of--they had to be mutants--just outside of it. "Everybody stay calm," he raises his voice for the nearby citizens, "the situation is under control." Only now does he glance back at the mayor, eyes widening ever so slightly. Lily herself stops in her tracks as she hears the dual reports, a surge of adrenaline rushing through her as she hears the shot, sees the shield, and hears both the return shot and the reaction of the crowd. Crapcrapcrap. She quickly racks up a few thousand dollars' worth of fines traversing back the way she came, flicking between the 'shadows' cast by trees where the watchful cones of police observers can't see. << Ow-ow-ow. >> Jim is moving rapidly, in a sort of laid-back speed as though all of this had been practiced, /saying/, "/Hold/ the camera, hold onto the camera, don't drop the camera," while leaning forward to topple Shelby down into his arms like a sack of rice to deposit her on the ground. He's grabbing for the camera himself, backing away from the march of men. There's a lot of cameras flashing, some with people greening and excited or screaming or jeering. Jim is just silent. His mental landscape is pretty simple: Someone needs to get this. Before someone else tries to pretend it didn't happen. Mayor Lovet has paused in his speechmaking. He's eying the shield with wide eyes, eying the police with wide eyes. His hands grip his podium tightly, through the flurry of activity that follows. And then, /doggedly/ determined from behind the shimmering wall, he continues. A little bit more teeth-gritted than before, but continues. "These are only the first steps that we are taking to defend ourselves against this new threat - they cannot be the last. We must not allow ourselves to become complacent in the face of those who would hurt us, and nor can we stoop to the dark depths of vigilantism. We will be strong, determined, unmovable, and just. We are New Yorkers, and we, still, cannot be held down." The crowd has had a surge of panic, although, with Alexandrine's presence, not perhaps as much as might be expected. Some, though. Shrieks. Scattering. It's unclear who is still listening to the speech, but some people are. The press, mostly. They snap photos of the mayor, snap photos of the shield around him, snap photos of the erstwhile gunman. There's a different kind of murmur going through them, quietly attempting to find the source of the shimmering shield. They take many pictures. "/Threat/," Hive spits, holding Jax a little tighter than necessary -- he, at least, is listening to the end of this. "That fucking /bastard/ you just /saved/ his ass. You should've let the asshole die." Possibly he should have kept that to Mental Voice. Many of the reporters are now shooting pictures of Jax as well as the shield. Click click click. The one blessing in all of this is that Shelby's instinct is to tuck forward and curl around herself. The camera ends up tucked inside, against her belly, until she suddenly finds herself on her feet with the instrument snatched from her hands. She wobbles, breathless and stunned, eyes flicking from podium to crowd before they on Hive and Jax. Jax. "Oh shit...oh /shit/, Hive, you gotta get him /out/, they're coming!" The shield drops away. Jax's hand drops, too, his face a bit paler. "-- m'I gonna get ticketed for that," he mumbles, looking slightly ill. "Can we --" His fingers flutter towards Shelby at her suggestion. Out. Outoutout. That is mostly his only thought right now. There might be a little bit of a laugh at Ezekiel's mental checklist, even as Alex stays low. << Stay low and your chances of not bein' shot are better. >> She's trying to be reassuring, even as she's craning her head to try and get a look around. "Moron." She says as the mayor goes on. She hurls the words at the Mayor, blue eyes angry, << A mutant just saved your life! We are not all some sort of threat! >> She pauses in horror as people start taking so many pictures of Jax next to her. She looks at Hive with a hint of that control splintering. The net over the crowd vanishes, as she shifts to try and summon up apathy and general laziness to push at those taking pictures of Jax. << Get him out of here. Go. Ah'll...try to .. keep them back off your asses somehow. >> "The kid's never been more right," Jim murmurs under his breath, though he's continues to diligently shoot back, his vision singled down behind the cyclops-eye of his camera lens. "You guys better scram. Something tells me you're not gonna get as lucky as Shane did last time /he/ got caught up in a fracas. Beat feet." He's pushing his way towards the body as he says it, vanishing soon enough and swinging off his jacket to lay over the corpse. His face is just haggard. The mayor pauses, glancing in bafflement at the crowd as the shield vanishes and the voice speaks in his head. He doesn't seem inclined to stay for Press Questions today, though; partially also because with the shield gone and the speech over, some of the police are hustling him back inside. He looks back over his shoulder as he's swept away, his expression distinctly more troubled now than it even was when he was getting shot at. Her translocation no longer up to the task of traversing the chaos on its own, Lily skids to a halt nearby and blinks as she catches the snippet of conversation and << drat I wandered into mindreadland didn't I but look /thats/ what he (?) looks like okay remember that eyepatchguy I'll need him for art later and distraction he needs a distraction what can we--OH oh oh that'll be great >> Grinning and reaching into her satchel, Lily ducks down and Steps around to the backside of the police formation, shaking her can of spraypaint and tagging a quick $ 5 0 0 . 0 0 on the backs of a series of cops. They shouldn't be able to her her over the din, and when a police sniper notices movement and sweeps his scope across the riot line, she uses the opportunity to Step back into the crowd once again. Siddhartha zeroes in on Hive again, briefly, then locks eyes on Jackson. He isn't smiling, but he nods, once. "Secure sector three and set up a perimeter," he says to his mic, "I am knee-deep in the press here." Then, to the gathering jouralists, "Ladies and gentlemen, /please/ move back, there will be a press conference later..." Suddenly, he seems less certain about it, pistol still gripped firmly in hand and pointed at the sky. When Jim moves in, he blinks away the apathy. "Sir, this is crime scene. Please stay behind that line," he says, indicating the "Free Speech Line" with a jerk of his head. << Thanks. >> It's just one short burst from Hive to Alexandrine, thankfully; his mental voice is as unpleasantly abrasive as ever. He's taking advantage of the empath's bubble of holding-back-the-crowd to steer Jax away. Away from the reporters and away from the cops and away from the crowd, doing his best to shield the younger man from the cameras with his own body. "I hope they do ticket you for it," he adds to Jax, "be the fastest fucking way to get this bullshit overturned. Not gonna be many more clear-cut cases of --" His head jerks towards the departing mayor. And then he stops, confronted with Siddhartha and Police Perimeter. He grimaces. "Fuck," he says, eloquently. From across the park, Tatters stands with her arms crossed and her eyes opened, watching the crowd intently. She can't see anyone who she's /sure/ is Lily, which suggests that she's off somewhere else, probably doing something that will get her shot. Jackson just groans. Short and strangled. He doesn't say anything, not to Hive and not to Siddhartha and not to anyone at all. Shelby loyal creature that she is, leaves Jim to his corpse-covering and falls in behind Hive and Jax. She's unslung her guitar and is holding it at her side by the neck--these things make handy clubs, see. When the pair in front of her stop, she almost runs into their backs. "What?" Oh fu--wait! I know him! She pops out and locks eyes with Siddhartha. "Hey! Please...wave us through? Wave us through, man, we were helping. Please." Several of the police officers attend to the ex-gunman on the ground. After one checks his pulse and shakes his head, the police split into two groups. A second group continues quickly through the crowd, Eric at the lead, heading towards Jax with purposeful and quick steps, shields still strapped to their arms but no longer so used to shield them so well. They reach up behind Hive, Shelby and Jackson, and with a brief glance towards Siddhartha, Eric steps forward. "Detective. We'll get them out of here and bring them to 1-PP?" It is a question. The other riot-shielded police officers line up around behind the three, glaring at the members of the press. Alex keeps at it, trying to make the crowd disinterested in Jax and interested in other things. She gets to her feet, slowly, looking around and offering Ezekiel a hand. She's moving then, a look of surprise and hope on her face. "Officer!" She says to Siddartha, with the full force of her southern accent. She pushes her sunglasses up, blue eyes bright and worried in her face as she approaches him. "Ah don't know if you'll remember me from the cupcake shop, but.. my friend here.." She glances at Jackson with a worried, slightly annoyed look. "He forgot to eat before coming out, and just before the excitement told us he was crashing. Please, can we get him out of here? He needs something to eat." She turns and looks at Eric, eyes going wide. "What's 1-PP? He just needs to eat and get some rest, please? He hates hospitals, bad experiences... please?" She pleads with only the slightest of empathic leaning to try and aid Jax and Hive's exit. "Ah'll answer any questions ya have, but he needs to get home." Once The Police start moving people, the crowd gets shove-y. Micah meets the wall a little faster than intended, actually, when someone /pushes/ him into it with force. His left leg /cracks/ into it audibly, making him glad his prosthesis doesn't actually have sensation. With all of this unusual input, the microprocessor in the knee unit isn't doing so great a job of controlling knee bent vs. knee straight anymore... He falls into half-kneeling /hard/. "Son of a /biscuit!/ " he hisses. Reduced to cursing about food items twice within 10 minutes. This is /not/ his day. He presses himself and his bag against the wall, hoping that he's enough out of the way by now. "The whole fucking city's a crime scene," Jim mutters at Siddhartha, though with hands carefully held up and moving backwards cooperatively out of any nice policeman's personal space - /after/ putting his camera into an inner pocket. The police close in around Jax, Hive and Shelby before he's able to rejoin them. His eyes settle on Alexandrine, hanging back and listening with his jaw set. Ezekiel stands up alongside Alex, but hangs back. A mutant power just went off, and he's a recently outed mutant semi-celebrity. "S'there a ticket?" Jackson mumbles a little woozily. If he's doing an imitation of Crashing it's a good one. Pale. Shaky. Kind of green around the -- well, he doesn't have gills. But. His one eye is staring downwards at Siddhartha's shoes like maybe they'd make prime Puke Receptacles. He leans against Hive in a heavy slump. He frowns as Eric approaches. Deeply. And shifts, a little uncomfortably as he adjusts his weight juuuust that much more away from Eric. One more before she goes: now that the officers have their shields at their sides, Lily waits for an opportunity and Steps around while one of the ones at the edges is looking the other way, and tags his shield with a smiley face. Shields /love/ smiley faces. When the cop turns back around, a pair of eyes -- one black and one white -- grin up at him from above a black-and-white paisley bandanna. With an impudent wave, she scoots back and dives around the nearest bystander -- in this case, Jim -- and reappears on the other side of the crowd, where she returns her can of spray paint to her satchel and sets off to find her sister. Shelby is suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Her hand tenses around the neck of the guitar and her shoulders slump. A look goes winging back towards the cops who loom. Her thoughts only add to the mental turmoil in the area--they're going to find out her age her home her parents they'll send her back they'll lock her up oh god oh god oh god. Some people might wet their pants. Shelby's visible face and hands are suddenly covered with a wild swirl of stolen pictures. Some even escape, rat from sinking style, onto the pavement beneath her feet. Hesitating longer than should have been necessary, Siddhartha's eyes dart from Shelby to Alex to Jackson. There is a riot inside his head, probably too chaotic to track. Finally, he shakes his head emphatically at Eric. "Negative, Officer. Situation's under control. Just keep the press /away/ from the scene, please." This last he says with a nod back at the corral. "Let them through," he instructs the flustered cops flanking him. "We've got eyewitnesses coming out of our ears. Move along, now." His eyes widen when Shelby's skin changes, but he quickly swivels her around to face Hive--who has apparently been designated caretaker of adrenaline-crash victims--and mutters, "I'm not writing any goddamned tickets today." "Thanks, Detective. Officer." Hive's voice might be /just/ slightly more strained to Eric than to Siddhartha but he is being So Polite. And hustling Jax away before anyone can change their minds. He reaches for Shelby, too, hooking an arm around the girl's shoulders to bring her with. Jax glances back to Alexandrine, lips curling up just briefly in a grateful smile. And then he's gone, with Hive. Poof. Eric's lips purse, but he nods. "S' your funeral when the brass hears about it, Detective." he murmurs. He gives Jax a wink even as he turns around and gestures to the other officers around him."Come on. Let's get this taken care of. Line." He blinks, tilting his head to one side. "Nice shield, Stevens." he says, a grin on his lips. "Alright," he calls out, stepping forward as the officers form a slightly curved line, pushing the crowd back away from Siddhartha, Shelby, Jax and Hive. "Step away." he says, giving the photographers a wide smile. "Step back. This is a crime scene. Disperse." There is something very like affection surging from Alex towards Sid as she snags Ezekiel's sleeve to tug him along with her. << Keep your heads down, and keep calm. We will all get out of this.>> She might have included Shelby in that, trying to reassure her and maybe stop the swirling colors. "Thank you, Detective. Cupcakes on me, next time we meet." She says sweetly, before she is trying to hustle Ezekiel and drag him through the wake of Hive, Jax, and Shelby. Shelby is swiveled, hooked and bustled off, only belatedly thinking to pull her hood up as she goes. "I fucking owe you," she has time to breathe to Sidd before she too is gone. Ezekiel wastes no time collecting any stragglers from veritable swarm around Hive. "Right, folks. You heard the man," he says in his best 'team leader' voice. When he turns back, Hive and Jax are gone. "Let's... "His voice trails off, then raises "Are you kidding me?" He falls into line with Alex and Sheby and gets out before the mess falls part further. Crap, did something just dive behind Jim? He flicks a glance into the corner of his eyes, but then just as quickly back again, and exhales with great inner relief to see the Mutants Three making their way out of sight. He doesn't follow, turning back to the crowd and extracting his camera once again. He allows himself to be pushed back with the rest of the churning photog scavengers, and employs his elbows liberally to keep a choice perspective point, eyes scanning and camera blazing. He'll stay and document, bear witness and otherwise be a nosey snooping nuisance to the bitter end. It's what he's good at. Micah is grateful for the wider berth people start to give him when he ends up on the ground. He pulls his pantsleg up to look at the knee unit. It's gonna need to be restarted. Insert heavy sigh. "Go home, knee, you're drunk." He settles against the wall to wait on the microprocessor. Jim will also likely get a lot of rather ironic pictures of graffitied riot police. Because THAT'S art. Bless you, Flower Knight, you have a fan. Tatters sighs and straightens as Lily /finally/ returns to her side, her grin impossible to contain even beneath her bandanna. The larger sister just shakes her head. "Lily, what did you do?" "Nothing /yet!/ But I got a good look at the one who did the force field. I know what I'm going to do now! I'm going to stick around and see if I can put a thing on the steps, if they aren't looking too closely. You should go home before they hassle you." Tatters shakes her head /again./ Uh, still. And then looks up and blinks. "...wait, does that riot shield have a..." "OH DRAT can they see me?" And with that Lily is gone again, and Tatters turns around to stroll off.