Mutant Rights Now! ...Or maybe in just a second

November 2, 2014 : Senator Hubert is about to give a speech about a pro-mutant constitutional amendment, but the FOH is having none of it. Good thing there are heroes there to save the day.

Financial District

The Financial District. When people think of New York, with it's skyline
dominated by high rises belonging to powerful corporations, this is what
they're thinking of. Situated on the southeastern side of the island (just
follow the huge buildings) this is the beating heart 'Wall Street' and many
powerful and influential corporations. From the 90's on, a number of high
rises were converted into condominiums and there are at present about sixty
thousand people living in the district, to which is daily added the commuters
and tourist populations the latter of whom come to see such sights as the New
York City Police Museum, the Canyon of Heroes and the Skyscraper Museum.



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Mood Music:



Today is a big day in the name of mutant rights. Gwen Hubert, Senator from New York and faithful member of the Progressive Party has come to give a big speech to announce the introduction of a new Constitutional Amendment. Hubert, and her allies in both houses, are calling for an amendment defining mutant and metahumans as human, and thus leaving no doubt as to whether they would fall under the Equal Protection clause of Amendment 14.

In truth, these sorts of things take forever to get passed and with the current climate, especially with what's been going on in Metropolis lately, it's not clear whether the thing will be passed or not. Hubert is in a tough election, however, and the move seems designed, in part, to remind New Yorkers of their classic political leanings and to help push her away from her opponent Uly Weber.

Weber has been successful in making huge gains despite this being Progressive Party territory. He's bashed Hubert in the campaign because of her close relationship with the unpopular President, and it has resonated in the polls.

As a large mass of people are standing outside with supportive signs and placards, it looks like the speech will begin soon.


My name is Barry Allen and I'm the fastest man alive. I'm also the Flash, but not a lot of people know that. Anyways, my hometown is Central City, but today I'm in New York. My friends at STAR Labs intercepted an email message (don't ask) that alluded to there being a potential attack today at this speech given by Senator Hubert. We're still working on the who and why, but we thought it might be a good idea for me to show up. It could be anyone. Terrorists. FOH. Any of the zillions of badguys we deal with on a daily basis. Regardless of who it is, though, we need to make sure the Senator's safe.


"Any news?" The Flash says into his communicator. He looks around, with pursed lips and concentrated stare, though two people stop and begin talking to him. "-such a big fan, do you do autho-" The question is blared out by the music that begins playing to pump up the crowd.

Sara doesn't often work crowd control, but for this sort of thing, she was willing to volunteer for some plainclothes work. It's why she's lingering at the outskirts of the milling crowd, snacking on a pretzel as she watches for any unusual patterns or behavior. "We're looking steady so far," she murmurs into her earpiece. "Be nice if one of these things could go off without someone getting shot, you know?"


I don't have a political affiliation. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Cats don't follow, we lead. In my experience, anyone who flaps their lips for forty-five minutes straight is someone who is trying to pull something over you. It works for villains monologuing, it works for politicians.

I'm more interested in what people do than what they say, at the end of the day. The proof is in the pudding- action defines character, Aristotle said.

Okay, he was talking about theater, but the same principle applies everywhere. It's the doing that matters- speeches are just the balls of yarn.

It's why I'm here today, really. These guys throw a lot of balls of yarn, but this Amendment thing is something they're actually doing, and it's a good thing for once.

Which means that someone is probably going to try to cock this up. That's where I come in, you see. My name is Keith O'Neil, and my soul is bonded to the Cait Sidhe. Together, we fight crime.

Oh god, that sounds just awful.


"Nothing in the perimeter," Vorpal answers the communicator, perched as he is on a rooftop. He's not the only one there, of course- security officers are everywhere. It feels awfully official, doing this right next with the police. "And I agree- but if wishes like that are going to be granted, then I want a pony and a castle, too."

He pauses. They did have a castle…

Lunair is a mutant. Albeit one of the mutants blessed with the ability to pass in society, aside from the whole 'doesn't emote quite properly' from her profession and past. She was out shopping today, as teenagers are wont to do. It's sort of like parrots and fruits, really. Parrots freaking love fruits. She's decided to keep an eye out as she mills through the crowd. Getting from point A to point B has turned into an episode of Lunair Does Crowd Surfing.

And really, it would be kinda interesting to see. She does have friends who can't hide themselves.

There was no reason for Reese.. correction, Seikatsu to be here. No reason except for the fact that she was stranded in New York by some fishy bastard who can't fry his own people to save his life..

There were two bright sides to all of this however, or possibly three. She could move through the crowds of people with ease to take whatever tiny fingers could lift from pockets, she could possibly blend in and go unnoticed unless someone was a history buff and.. she didn't stink. Her hair was combed, she looked like a normal person save for a few things that would cause her to stand out.

The cloak she borrowed from that fishy bastard was two sizes two big. Hood hung over her head which only allowed her lips to be seen; the extremely large tree branch that she found upon the coasts of New York so that she could manuever around with ease was held and leaned upon as she waits by way of sound to find the path to start her browsing.

People like her needed no introductions nor reasons as to why she was there. She had no interest, no political backing, no care for the human and mutant life that does not effect her in any way. Just the need to borrow, pick and pillage the pockets of others so that she could get a decent bite to eat and find better blankets to line her shopping cart with at night.

Good. Vorpal's here. There was a common connection with a red haired guy from Keystone City and desperate times call for desperate measures. Luckily the STAR Labs folks were able to make contact. He'll have to remember to thank Cisco later.

"I'm not seeing anything either," The Flash says after brushing away the people with a super speedy autograph on a piece of paper. "I'm going to start doing my rounds, see if I can push something out."

It's now that Senator Hubert takes the stage and people seriously begin losing their freaking minds. You'd think that Elvis himself took the stage. The commotion makes it hard to see and impossible to hear.

Senator Hubert in a sharp grey suit that matches her dark skin and black hair gives a wave to the crowd and a big smile.

She leans into the microphone, eager to rally up the crowd. "Today it starts. Equal means equal. Don't matter if you're a mutant or a human, woman or man, black, white or purple!"

It's high on the 52nd floor of the skyscraper across the way. Abandoned office. Slid into the nightbefore. Gunman pulls the window back slowly, staying obscured by the wall.

"We've got a mounted patrol to the east and the west," Sara offers helpfully to Vorpal. "A dozen ponies, all lined up."

"Very funny, Pez," comes through the comm from one of the mounted officers. "Let us know if one of the boys turns into a unicorn, yeah?"

The camaraderie of the NYPD. So much love.

Sara crumples up the wrapper on the pretzel, moving to another spot in the crowd as the speech begins, trying to keep an eye on the screaming.

"I can do unicorns, if you boys would like that. The horn's good for skewering villains," the cheshire mutters into his comm with a smirk "It's almost worth living with all the glitter." He looks around- everything seems normal… his eyes do detect a figure who seems a little suspicious. She's a short little thing, really, and her clothes speak of poverty and desperation.

Someone people often ignore and look away from. To him, she would usually be someone to approach and ask if he could do something for her. Today, though, he's a little suspicious. She could also be the perfect disguise for an assassin or a hit-girl (no, not THAT one).

He mutters into his comm, "Someone looks a mite suspicious down there… keep an eye on her. She could be just a girl, but considering some of the things I've seen…"

He looks at the Senator and hmms. "Want me to do something subtle but preventative, Detective?"

Lunair is listening quietly, keeping her bag close to herself, lest she club some poor sap with it. Lunair is also already kind of an assassin and hitman, but she's not here for that today. Today, she's just a teenager. She does smile politely at someone nearby and finds herself moving towards the edge of the crowd. "Ack, I forgot to get him some tea…" She wanted to get some leaves and buy some fabric for art class and …

The branch was held on tightly as she tries to adjust to the sounds, the screaming, the elevated heartbeats..

She centers herself with a purse of her lips, a deep inhale taken, exhaled slowly through her nose as she pulls the hood back enough for her to /see/. Her eyes glow softly, the lines of life brought the various figures that made the crowd visible to /her/. A little smile curls her lips as she taps the stick upon the ground, dragging it back and forth upon the concrete to find a way inside. The mix of people, all those who paid no attention to her were touched and brushed by; wallets, pocket change, lint, pieces of candy, all were for the taking with deft and nimble fingers.

She wasn't quick, but she makes good work of the poor folk, pockets bagged and bogged down, the path of destiny taking her to the front lines of the crowd where she makes herself so small. Everyone was loud and tall, the feelings she pulled spoke of happiness, excitement, thrill. She was going to have to shut herself off for days, mostly due to the loud woman who was just a hop, a skip, and a jump within reach.

The first shot rings out and almost immediately most of the speech goers give a different kind of scream. Some get low, others begin to run, making Barry's run be more of a zig zag than a straight line. The pathway becomes longer, immediately causing him to panic. Toe in the ground, digging harder and harder, he hopes to get there in time.

Things begin to slow down all around him. You can almost see the sound waves emanating from people and the haziness of light as time contorts to his senses.

As his legs churn as hard and as fast as they will take him, but he notices something peculiar as he passes. A man dressed in plaid and overalls is pulling out a machine gun. That's not good. There's more than one potential shooter. He grabs the gun from the baddie's hands before he can get a shot off and then continues on towards the stage.

As he approaches the Senator, he can see the bullet coming out of the corner of his eye. This is going to be close! At the last moment he puts all of his effort into a final leap. Like a defensive back, badly beaten on a play, the Flash stretches out to try and knock the bullet away.

With full extension, he's able to catch just enough of it with his gloved middle finger, sending the bullet away, sparking into the PA equipment.

Meanwhile, people from everywhere-probably 20 of them in full brandish weapons. The Friends of Humanity are serious about ending Senator Weber!

"There's suspicious, and then there's people who've been marginalized anyhow," Sara starts to say into the comm. "But if your gut says-" And suddenly, what anyone's gut says is entirely irrelevant, because their eyes can point out the much larger problem. "We've got shooters in the crowd!" she announces over the comm, pulling out her badge in one motion and her gun in another before starting to shoulder her way through the crowd toward the stage. "Cover the Senator!"

You start your posting to Group #30 (RP Classifieds).

You can now compose the body of the post by using '涼⮊ <text>'

or ' <text>'. When you are finished, type '涺梲' by itself.

Text added to bbpost.

You post your note about 'Flash Friends…and enemies' in group 'RP Classifieds' as message #3


Like I said before, I am always more interested in what people do than what they say.

The Friends of Humanity. I am going to enjoy doing some awful things to them.

Well, maybe not that awful. There's PR to think about.


Boy did he call that wrong. "I've got her, Detective," Vorpal says and no sooner has he spoken that the Senator drops down- through The Rabbit Hole. She appears right next to Vorpal on the rooftop.

"Sorry to drag you away like this, ma'am," the air around the woman turns bright purple, and glows, as the Cheshire creates a dome around the two of them "Consider it a temporary pleasure trip courtesy of the Titans." His first priority now is to protect the Senator. Flash can take care of the shooters along the more-than-capable NYPD.

However, nothing says that he can't lend them a hand. There is no element like the element of surprise-

"Titans Together!"

The shout rings out through the streets and there, just surging over the nearest tall building, comes a green ptedoractyl flying towards the gunners- Changeling. A blonde young woman with the bearing of an Amazon flies next to him- Wonder Girl. A pair of top-hatted magicians -the Zataras- are floating on a flying purple platform controlled by Bunker, and Rain is swooping in her broom. The Boy Wonder himself is standing on the rooftop. Alright, the two Boy Wonders, they have two Robins just in case one of them gets blown up. The Titans are here!

Only, they're not. They're an illusion created by the Cheshire cat, a high-flying illusion to give the Friends of Humanity something to shoot at while the Good Guys down below take care of them.

"They're just an illusion, guys," Vorpal mutters into his com so Flash and the NYPD are up to date, "consider it a distraction to keep bullets away from you." He grins towards the Senator, "And to think I could have been in showbiz, right?"

Lunair has no problem with murdering a bunch of Friends of Humanity. It's not that she's malicious. It's simply the way she's been trained and what she's grown up with. That's all, really. It's a means to an end, goal of a mission, protection. After all, in a fight, it is you or them. Lunair simply tends to achieve her goals first. But then, there's cops all over. And pulling a huge, high powered rifle might be upsetting. She also really doesn't want to explain a 50 calibre. So she pulls a couple of other weapons. It's time for Lunair's Messing with the enemies. And Bowling for Douchebags.

A staff, with the carving of a cat on the end and a nudity ray. Yup, it's time for chaos, confusion and shockwaves. There's a portal gun slung over her shoulder, and one guy is going to find himself in a portal loop. Falling, falling, always falling. But then, Lunair remembers. She needs a disguise! She pulls her brown paper bag lunch and pulls it over her head. A sandwich falls out. A disguise.

The first shot rings out causes Seikatsu to reach up to grip her ears, yet she was the only one of the few within the crowd who didn't duck and run for cover. In her long life, she was used to this, standing near disaster in the wake of potential death, her eyes opening only to see the Senator? Gone. And someone else in her place? Whoever this person was, the burned bright, so bright that she had to turn her back from the stage to look out into the crowd.

In mayhem, is when things were much clearer. The way people stood; it appeared that they were armed and ready to fire. Those are the ones that she doesn't need to be bothered with, for they are the ones who aimed to take a life. Another person marched in their direction; hand upon something she couldn't quite finger, and was it a gun? The lines of life wasn't a distinctive sort, but that person burned hot to her eyes and held themselves with authority. Help that person, if it came down to it.

There was a silent wish of her being far away from that place and not in the middle of mayhem, for while she's making off with goods from the frightened peoples pockets, the sensory overload was going to get a little bit too much for her in a moment.


've found the bad part about going all out is that you often need a long way to stop. The stage is not a very big, that's for sure.


The Flash goes into a barrel roll after knocking the first bullet away and goes right off the stage and into an open dumpster that sits on the edge. "Good grief," he says as he sits up and flicks a banana peel away.

No rest for the weary, though, because the Friends of Humanity soon realize that the Senator is gone. That doesn't mean they can't take out some mutants or metas. They begin firing on the heroes now and bullets begin to ring out everywhere!!!

This is not the sort of event where Sara usually lets herself use the Witchblade. Too much publicity, too open. But the Witchblade doesn't care so much about that when the bullets start flying. Despite Sara's control, tendrils of silvery metal start to creep over her arms and legs, curving around her eyes. A bullet ricochets off her side, which only encourages the growth. "Dammit," she curses under her breath, trying to focus on moving through the crowd toward the nearest shooter.

The illusions do what they're supposed to do- until someone realizes that the Titans aren't fighting back. Or dying with blooditude, for that matter. He needs to get down there- fortunately, though, the security agents get to the rooftop once they figure out where the Senator went.

"Stay safe, ma'am, let's see what can be done to fix the mess down there." Vorpal dismisses the dome and entrusts the Senator to the hands of the security force, and then he dives off the building.

It's not even a swan dive, though it should have been. The Cheshire lands on his feet before plunging towards the nearest Friends of Humanity. Purple, glowing body armor appears over his suit and head as he moves to engage them one-on-one, because he has learned that getting shot hurts, and someone back at headquarters will give him a serious lecture about it should he come back with another hole on his pelt.

Tiger Kung Fu is one of the most explosive, external arts out there. Vorpal uses it quite well- and, on the Friends of Humanity, quite ruthlessly. While he is not Midnighter and would never consider using his art to tear someone's throat off, he will try to make sure that several of them walk away from this with broken bones. After all, they are firing upon innocent people and using lethal force- that falls under the "No Sympathy" gauge for Vorpal.

To Lunair's credit, she mostly kills people she's fighting or people who really just had it coming. Which is why guys are being juggled, portaled around and smacked senseless. "Really wish I could use a rifle," Siiiiiigh. Says the paper bag hero! Getting shot does hurt, but fortunately, she can call armor on demand. Which is why she now has a paper bag on her head and cute rose and white armor. Yup, who needs to be a magic girl when you have WEAPONS!?

As the bad ones turn on the crowd, Seikatsu was possibly one of the first ones hit. Though, if anyone were luckily enough to see the little shrimp, it would be hard to tell by her facial reaction to it all. Physical? Screaming beacon.

There was a stumble backward, and a crash and roll into the metal gratings, her eyes snapping shut and as a cause, blotting out her only way to see through the mayhem. She's been in this situation before, lest those people who carries guns follow through to put a bullet into her dome, she'd be a goner. Upon her belly now and bleeding, the hood is pulled over her head just enough for her to breathe freely close to the ground, dragging herself with one arm over the next, hand occasionally reaching out to press fingers to the ground and ahead of her to… wait… she felt it. Something round.. hard.. the size of.. its a quarter! Sweet!

The find was stuffed into her pocket whilst she continues to crawl to safety.

"Are you okay?" Some would say the Flash costume is pretty awesome; others would say that the red is a bit garish. Either way, the Flash kneels down by Seikatsu and reaches out to touch her shoulder should she need help. He thinks she's been hit, but she seems to be crawling along.

"I'll be right back", the Flash mutters as the nagging of machine gun fire means he's got to prevent more people from being shot. He zips away and FOH bigots begin to be thrown 10 feet in the air and tossed away.

People are flying. That's…not normal. But Sara really isn't in any position to complain about that. It's cutting down on the number of people being shot, after all. Closing in on one of the shooters herself, she reaches out with a Witchblade-clad hand to grab the barrel of the gun, crunching it closed with the force of her grip. It's still firing, though, which means shrapnel flies from the back when it misfires into the crushed barrel, doing some serious damage to the shooter. Sara catches a few scratches, but the Witchblade catches more, and it's only the work of a moment to handcuff the injured man.

It isn't pretty, really- some of them are clutching broken arms, a few of them are bleeding because when you have a Tiger style practitioner with actual claws, it's going to get nasty. None are fatally wounded, but that doesn't mean those were love taps, either.

His armor cracks and shatters under gunfire, but new chaos constructs appear to replace the missing ones. He stops for a moment to look at the Detective, and raises an eyebrow. Aha, so that was-

No time to get distracted. There were still some standing. That meant more punching. "Does anybody know how to play croquet?" he asks with a cheshire grin. Anyone who knows Vorpal knows exactly what that means.

Next thing anyone knows, the cat is wailing upon the Friends of Humanity with an enormous croquet mallet- or rather, a mallet-flamingo. Because keeping things authentic is very important for brand recognition.

Lunair has regular armor. And people are flying around her, being portaled and rendered nude. A few of the now naked Friends of Humanity are getting wolf whistled or tackled by helpful cops and/or bystanders. One woman has her camera phone up. Lunair brings joy, justice and nudity to the world. She seems to be getting better with her staff, watching the others. Is that - a lady in metal armor? Awesome!

If Seikatsu could see Barry now? She'd give him one of those 'what the hell do you think?' looks. He obviously missed the hideous blood trail that she left behind, but then again, she couldn't fault anyone for not seeing it, and slipping upon bits that she's left behind. "No." She states, and.. then he's gone. Was she supposed to stay put? He didn't exactly say, but she was starting to get colder, and even more tired, and just dragging herself against the ground was painful enough for her to stop.

She grumps and rolls onto her back, her eyes staring up towards the sky. She was listening, focusing upon the sounds of the mayhem other than herself so that she could set herself to calm.

"Croquet? What the shit is happening.." She mutters to herself, nevermind that though, she had to gather up enough steel nerve to pull the bullets from her belly.

And just like that, Barry is back. "You're shot!" he exclaims. "I've got to get you to a hospital!" He reaches down to pick up Seikatsu into his arms. "Vorpal, where's the nearest hospital at?" He winces, unsure if moving her probably hurt like all get out. It's gonna get worse before it gets better.

It's clean up time for the FOH. The Senator is safe and the SRD will be moving in soon. Those that still have weapons are trying to hurt the heroes, but it looks as if their time is dwindling.

Vorpal was in the process of trying to propel one of the remaining gunmen through a giant croquet hoop with his mallet when Flash asks him the question. Suddenly he has to change gears from Mayhem Maker to GPS, it takes about a second. He points.

"Five blocks south, Flash. Go get her to safety," the cheshire says, seeing the poor young girl - the one he had suspected- being injured. Now he's feeling guilty. "Go ahead, we'll take care of cleanup over here. Send me what room she's in." Because he's going to come by and visit.

Sara rattles off Miranda rights for the man she took down, reaching up to wipe a spot of blood out of her eyes - hers or his, hard to tell just yet. One of the mounted officers arrives just then, and there's a moment…"One of the mutants threw something on me," she calls up to the officer. "Some sort of armor, saved my life. Going after the next one!" And then she's running off, finally managing to force the Witchblade to something like quiescence.

… It is a twist of irony that Lunair called up her own armor, isn't it? Ahem. But for her part, once clean up begins, she dismisses her stuff and shuffles off. Back to shopping and not answering questions from cops. Yes indeedy. Also, where'd her sandwich go…? Oh right. Gotta get the paper bag off her head.

"OW!" Seikatsu shrieks out as she was lifted, once upon a time she would have cursed up a storm, but being around Kida had given her second thoughts of being a dick when she clearly needed (or not) help. "I.. really.." Oh hell with it. She was going to be rescued. Usually, with her being a street rat, she was dumped off the sides of buildings and left in alley ways for dead, a nap and a dumbster dive later? She was one hundred percent. This time around, she was going to let the young ones do their work, feel like heroes, -be- heroes. Perhaps that's why she was there, stealing from people to begin with.

That's right.

Somewhere in her deep, fucked up mind, she saw ripping off people and messing up livelihoods as a way for folks to be heroes and save lives. Nevermind the fact that poor John Hammerman was going to get one hell of a credit card bill in a weeks time. Nevermind.. that.. fact.

So she plays the part, the dame in distress, her head lolling back as she bursts out into tears (cause really, that crap hurts, at least two bullets traveled when he hoisted her up and knicked an organ), arm fanning out to wave a bravado for the crowd to mooch sympathy and gain a few teddy bears to sleep with at night and flowers to eat when the well runs dry of food and money.

Play on.

The Flash burns away with Seikatsu, heading to the closest hospital stat. Meanwhile, the rest of the heroes do a good job of putting down the FOH. The cops are here, as well as the SRD. Later, it seems like the attack will put the potential constitutional amendment in a better light; but it still has a long road ahead.

In all, 23 members of FOH will be tried with attempted murder and hate crimes. Jennifer Walters, get your pen out, you're gonna be busy.

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