Make 'Em Miltary

October 29, 2014:

A political rally, some suspense and an unlikely bunch of heroes.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Squealing tires, crashing glass.

All in all, it was a fairly typical day in Gotham City - the background noise of crime almost a steady constant to the shouting, and sound of cars. But here, at the Gotham Civic center, the sounds of the crowd were a little louder. The center - a wide building that was almost a building for the sake of being a building - boasted a large hall that sported a stage. It was often that politicans came here upon the campaign trail, hoping to woo the populace of this city.

Today was no different.

What might be different is the line of police outside of the place, keeping protesters with signs from entering the building. 'No Superman Needed Here'. 'Make 'Em Military'. The people holding these signs were seemingly of all walks of life, shouting and cursing at the police who barred them from moving in to disrupt the speech of the person inside.

Arnold McCours. A man running for the office of the Senator with campaign promises filled with empowering the military and police, and controlling superpowered persons through the means of the law, if not 'curing' them with research into medical advances.

His supporters were known to be rather violent, even if he was a fringe candidate, hence why the more obviously miltiant ones were being angrily kept outside. The last rally, they trashed the place afterwards.

Laura Kinney sat in the crowd, green eyes staring directly ahead, lips pursed into a thin line as she stares blankly at the stage. McCours was firing off another quip that brought the crowd to a chorus of cheers and sharp boos, depending on where they stood. Laura just kinda draws her coat tighter over herself.


Sara Pezzini has her reasons to be interested in this particular issue. It's a debate she's been having with herself in the last few months, trying to find her place in a world where the extraordinary is becoming more and more ordinary. Which is why she's standing at the outskirts of the gathering, off-duty, listening to the speech. Quietly, she spins the unusual bracelet around her wrist as she listens, frowning slightly to herself.


Floyd Lawton isn't on official assignment, more just loitering around because he's a loitering bastard. A heavily armed one, in his case, judging by the heavy pistols under each arm, the small revolver around his ankle, and the heavy pistol holstered at the small of his back. He still feels underarmed, though, but it's hard to just carry a heavy assault weapon around with you in civilian clothes. People ask questions and you're not supposed to just shoot them for doing it. Annoying.

For the moment, though, he's watching the militants yell their heads off about some political bullshit or something. He's not entirely clear - the only papers he reads are his own kills. Gotta keep a scrapbook, after all, especially since ain't no one else gonna do it for him. His eyes are hidden behind his shades as he flicks his gaze from person to person, as if imagining blowing each of them away. Which, of course, he is. That's just who he is.


You don't turn it off, not after doing it for that long and certainly not with filling quite so many mass graves. With the CIA essentially a memory, and SHIELD apparently content to let her leash run out. No she isn't exactly to the point where she's generating her own target lists, but that doesnt mean she can't have an opinion. No she's overthrown governments enough times to know more than one trick here, the bullet could wait.

Thats why the hoodied skater chick slips through the crowd handing out, Vuvuzela and air horns like it's going out of style. Skateboard slung from her backpack, whilst she slips through the crowd emptying out a cloth shopping bag with decidedly non-lethal party favors. "Oh, Hey Sara."Sliding from between a pair of burly fellows, to offer Pezzini a bump of the shoulder. Winking on the sly, before offering over a Vuvuzela and an airhorn. "Nothing wrong with shouting somone down, in my book. He gets a microphone, seems fair to me right?"


It's actually a bit slow in Gotham, well crimewise that is, but that's mostly due to the time of day. Oracle has tuned into the broadcast of that politician Arnold McCours, both on TV and through the CCTV and video surveillance feeds throughout the area.

Her purpose is two fold - 1. To hear what tripe the man spouts. 2. To see if anyone takes enough offense to actually take the guy down. Her green gaze focusses on the screens, watching for trouble.


Oracle isn't the only one with eyes on the goings on in fact one long dead scientist has all manner of eyes on the situation. Though currently just inside one of his replacement bodies Zola is able to get a full feed on his surroundings fed into his systems. He's currently in the body of one of McCours' personal security quietly listening into the security channel, all the while sending out his own updates to the others scattered throughout the crowd.


Fury owes May BIGTIME for this. He knows how much she detests Gotham, and has had LOTS of additional reasons for hating the place lately. But, no. Here she is. Again. She's basically got the same mission as Oracle — watch for trouble — with the added bonus of having to also keep an eye out for any particularly troublesome powered types. Hopefully she'll be able to either talk them down or PUT them down before they make too much noise here. Because the last thing this blowhard McCours needs is MORE fuel for his political fire.


Drifting seemingly idly through the crowd, May makes a mental note of anyone who seems out of place. Skater chick, she's definitely an outlier, and … that's Pezzini she's chatting with. Hm. Lawton gets a longer look, because he's CLEARLY packing.


"My fellow citizens!" McCours says, getting ready to lift his voice again. But now the boos were being joined by the sound of… vuvuzelas? McCours rolls his eyes, and lifts his voice to be heard over the crowd, but even the enhanced microphone was probably not enough to be heard over the crowd at large. In fact, police start to kinda muscle into the crowd - pointing at… well, the hooded skater chick. And Pezzini. The cops had the weary aura of people who were being put upon to do something they would rather not do, but they start heading in that direction…

McCours makes a frustrated sound at the back of his throat, and steps forward to the podium, closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

When a shot rings out. Then another. The second shot was a brilliant violet beam of light that cuts towards the stands, just barely missing the politican. You see - there were rafters in this place. And in those rafters, well… it was obviously a mutant of some kind. Stocky and broad-shouldered, unnaturally so, the man was dressed entirely in black, and hanging upside down from the ceiling without any form of support, a pair of fancy military goggles seated right upon his head.

Chaos erupts amongst the crowd.
Sara does a bit of a double-take when Partisan bumps into her, surprise and suspicion turning into a smirk when she takes a noisemaker with a shake of her head. "Should've known you'd be here," she chuckles. "These people pay for private security for a reason, you know." As the Gotham PD starts to make their way toward the pair, she flips her jacket back from her pocket, reaching in with two fingers to start to pull out her own shield just as things go straight to hell.


"Please try not to make a mess," she calls back to Partisan over the noise, already starting to shoulder her way forward through the crowd.
Floyd Lawton follows the line of the shot like the expert marksman he is, angle and conditions calculating in his head as his eyes trace the line back to the armed man. Big dude, some sort of powers, powers that apparently made him stupid enough to try a shot upside down that clearly exceeded his level of skill. Too much gun for too little sense.


Floyd just draws on his cigarette, keeping calm but fading a bit to the side as he waits to see exactly what happens. Might an an opportunity for some amusement here. Especially if the politician runs away his way. He hasn't done a political hit in a while. Waller might bitch, but, on the other hand, what Amanda, She-Wolf of the SS, didn't know wouldn't hurt her.


Partisan ducks, cursing. "Oh mother fuck, Sara lets get in this!" Part dumps her pack, and vanishes amongst the crush of the crowd. Out comes a minimalist chest rig, which she throws on and a mother fucking P90. Down comes her trademark mask with a grunt, before ditching the pack and sprinting after Sara. Theres not a moment lost as she jacks in that jungle strapped magazine, and drops the bolt with a well practiced Karate-chop to the charging handle. "Sara, behind me!"


Suddenly from the crowd eye bolts, daggers of ice, and gunshots, chaos in the masses as more mutants in the crowd try to rush for the man in the middle. The guards Zola included open fire right back, one man diving right in the way of an eye bolt meant for McCours taking one to the chest before crumpling to the ground.


Seeing the police moving on people and the shot barely miss McCours, Oracle frowns.

Flipping through the video feeds, she identifies the shooter, not the person themselves, just that they're there. Entering a series of commands into her console, small avatars appear on her screens and she smiles grimly, as she initiates communications to Melinda May's phone and the commslink that Partisan was given for another investigation.


Suddenly, and without warning from the crowd eye bolts, daggers of ice, and gunshots, chaos in the masses as more mutants in the crowd try to rush for the man in the middle. The guards Zola included open fire right back, one man diving right in the way of an eye bolt meant for McCours taking one to the chest before crumpling to the ground in a pile.


The upside down mutant seems to sigh, drawing in a deep breath as he squares the gun against his shoulder - a lash of violet arcs out from a ring that hovered over his chest, energy leaking from his eyes after the discharge of the same. Running his tongue against his dry lips, he narrows his gaze on the person… drawing aim…


Apparently well out of reach of most of the people. The guards open fire against the 'assassin', but he remains calm, most of the shots going wild… but as he pulls on the trigger to fire a shot towards the politician, a round clips his shoulder, his weapon tumbling end over end into the crowd.

The crowd that was screaming. Most were filing towards the exits, pushing and shoving those lighter or weaker than they to the side.

And keep in mind that more mutant shooters had emerged in the crowd, ice and eyebolts erupting towards the stage… and the guards and man therein.

Needless to say, the policemen that were moving towards Sara and Partisan stop at the gunfire, their eyes opening up wide as the shooting begins, and the crowd starts to surge. One of them - Adams by his nameplate, barrels forward towards the pair. With a cry more to bolster himself than to frighten the other, he moves to try to tackle Partisan.


Melinda May looks up at the source of the weapons fire and sighs audibly. "Reason number thirty six." She taps at the comm unit in her ear to update HQ and warn them that containment teams might have to be deployed, and then she's looking around again in the growing chaos for Pezzini. An ally in this mess would be useful. She sees the police officer going after Sara's skater buddy, and rushes nimbly through the crowd to head 'Adams' off at the pass. If she can trip him up without injuring him and give the two other women a chance to get clear, she'll do it.


Sara starts to turn when Partisan calls for her to get down, brows rising when she sees the weapons. "What, so you can use that?! I said try not to make a mess!" On the other hand, the other woman has been taking care of herself for a good long time, and there are other people here who can't. She presses into the crowd once more, and as soon as she can disappear into the press, she lets the Witchblade loose, armor sheathing her body and shielding her features as she runs toward the stage.


Partisan dumps a shoulder, artfully rolling under Adam's potential grasp. The arrival of May gets a thumbs up"Hey May, glad you could join the fun!" Just like that she's off through the crowd, like a falling leaf amidst a thunderstorm of panic. When she burst out into the open again, she's bypassed the Police perimeter. Pausing to key her mic for a moment"1-1, Boots on. Going loud, feed me targets. Out."Squinting just a touch as she swings her P-90 up to lay that triangular crosshair over the shooter hanging from the ceiling. Trigger nudging the stubby PDW from Safe, to Auto before depressing that trigger.


Watching the goings on through the video, Oracle waits for May to respond to her communications. "Partisan, Oracle. Acknowledged. 1 Target in rafters behind you. If possible disable the target. Over."

Now she has visual confirmation of the shooter, Oracles traces have been running. The information filtering in slowly. A few minutes and she'll know who this (re)


For the moment Zola is doing his best to make sure this whole thing spreads firing off at one of the mutant attackers with his rather light caliber sidearm, before moving to try and evacuate McCours. He's not supposed to die here, they're looking for a vanguard not a martyr. More people firing off shots on either side guns from the humans, and various powers from the mutants. The order going out to start torching the building.


Melinda May manages to NOT huff in annoyance as her phone indicates an incoming call, and she pulls it from its pocket just long enough to link it to her earpiece. "This had better be good," she tells the caller impatiently as she stares after Skater Chick. How does that kid know her name? No, she doesn't recognize the Partisan. She's wearing a different face today.


Adams stumbles forward over Melinda's leg in the chaos, tripping him - and doubly making it easy for Partisan to escape his clutches. Police chatter squeals into life on Oracle's comms - and anyone else listening in. Needless to say, as some civilians were getting out of the building, they were putting in calls to 911 and otherwise. "P304!" that voice over the police radio came from Adams, who was lifting his chest radio to his mouth. "Shooters in the crowd, and on the ceiling. We need backup, backup - serious backup! They're supes!" What follows are descriptions of the shooters themselves.

Miraculously - McCours was still alive at this point. Screaming as shot after shot digs into the stage around him - as guard off as guard after guard was picked off around him. But there was a certain hardness in his features. McCours was a Gulf War vet.

Clutching one of the sidearms, McCours was being half-dragged, half pulled off of the stage, his guards shielding him with their lives. They were - to their credit, not firing at the mutants in the crowd for fear of hitting people, but the mutant on the ceiling… the bullets that Partisan fires at him, many hit their mark. As if his soles were glue, and they just got ripped from the ceiling - the barefooted mutant tumbles downwards - his body blossoming with traces of crimson. He was a strong, sturdy guy. But if the bullets didn't kill him…

The way that he lands on the floor of the place probably did.

The mutants in the crowd - there were probably about three in total. The most obvious one was the ice one, a lanky man in his mid-thirties that was trying to clamber unto the stage towards the retreating guards.

But there was another - a young looking woman in her late teens - blonde hair, blue eyes, that moves to one of the supports of the building - and punches it, the pillar cracking entirely. The third was… well, obviously a mutant, hiding his features behind a hoodie and sunglasses, and whatever he did - he scrambles up unto the stage effortlessly, like one of those parkour sorts.


Right, so. The speaker can take care of himself, too. When Sara hears that crack, she changes course toward that pillar, rushing into it to brace with her shoulder as she sets a hand against the concrete. "C'mon," she murmurs, concentrating on what she wants. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" Silvery tendrils climb up the concrete like a vine, wrapping and reinforcing it as she tries to keep the roof from coming down on them.


She knows all the code words, all the right things to say because this was the mother fucking Partisan. You don't think she's spent days listening to Gotham PD radio chatter, reading their own manuals? She looks towards the nearest officer from behind that wolf painted gas mask and screams "I'm DEA you shithead! I don't have coms, Get your ass on the radio net and push your people out to maintain a hard perimeter! Go, I don't have fucking time to babysit!" She doesn't even have a fake DEA badge, but well she does sort've fit the stereotype doesn't she? Lifting a hand back to her own radio. "1-1, first target is down. I need you to push into the Police network, and put out that theres a female DEA agent on scene. I'm going to end up Alamo over here otherwise. over."Moving immediately towards the Mutants moving towards the stage, Stitching gunfire down across the ground before them with a shout. "Halt or I'm going to burn your shit down you stupid fucks!" See Sara, she's -trying- not to make a mess here! "You wanna fight, you fucking tryhard chucklefucks? Fight me!"


Oracles search, well searches now, are providing results and the frown on her face indicates this is far from good.

Oracle acts immediately sending the broadcast into the GPD network. Scant enough detail to give Partisan the leeway she needs. "Partisan, Oracle. Communications sent. Be aware, these mutants have been reported missing over the years. Act to incapacitate, not kill so we can find out what this is about. Over"

Agent Mays melifluous tones filter through the comms. "Agent May, Oracle. I think this is good, but I'll leave that judgement to you. I'm monitoring the situation. The shooters are mutants who have gone missing over time. Act to incapacitate and reclaim is recommended.Would you like targets? Over"


Melinda May takes another quick assessing look around, then focuses on the young woman that just cracked one of the presentation hall's pillars. That… is not good. Pezzini has the pillar itself under control, though, so she moves to deal with the mutant. She pulls a single taser-tipped baton and moves to intercept the blonde. "Target acquired. Going after the blonde."


The structure creaks - even as the eldritch arms of the Witchblade move to bolster the strength of the structure - much of the crowd having… filed out around the stage, but there was still a rush to the exit. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, the teenage blonde mutant was moving to a second pillar, glancing notably back towards Sara Pezzini.

Bringing up her hand, she makes a show of flexing her fingers. And unless she is stopped or distracted in some way? She no doubt intended to hammer through that second thick stone pillar, some eight meters or so from Sara's current position.

But as for the politician - the two remaining guards - they manage to get him through the back door, securing him.

Outside was just as much a mess as inside. The protesters - having heard that there is an attempt on McCour's life - were trying to surge /in/ as people were surging out, and that wasn't quite working out very well, which slows the process further.

Partisan's shots cause the two mutants cresting the stage to pause. They do halt, but there was no fear in their stance. The lanky ice mutant brings his hand up to pull the hood off of his head - he had vaguely handsome features. With a smirk, and a glance to the other unknown mutant, they turn and start to flee towards one of the exits themselves, yielding the stage to Partisan.

But remember the blonde? It turns out she was interrupted. Melinda starts to move towards the column, and the blonde's eyes snap towards her. She arcs a quick punch - one that weakens - but not quite destroys the support, and Sara can feel the weight of the building get a little bit heavier through the Witchblade, and she turns to run as well. Unlike the other two, she was running straight for an empty patch of wall.


Sara curses under her breath as more weight sinks onto the pillar, bracing herself more firmly against the one she's holding. For a moment, she stretches out her other hand toward the other column before thinking better of it. That's quite a distance, and this column is already heavy enough. "Hey!" she calls toward the others. "Let's focus on getting out of here, people! This place is coming down!"


Partisan skids to a stop beside Sara, before dumping the rest of her magazine after that blonde. Skillfully bouncing rounds off the floor, in hopes of just shredding the woman's calves with shrapnel. "I got you Sara, looks like these people are bugging out. You alright here?"


Melinda May flicks an annoyed look at the Partisan as she has to stop abruptly to keep from running right into the gun-happy woman's fire aimed at the blonde. So much for catching her. So, with no other option really left, she activates the taser on the baton in her hand to trigger on contact, and then throws it at the blonde. Maybe she'll get a lucky hit in and they'll have someone to take into custody. If not, Reason number 39.


The blonde didn't even slow down. Yes, the sharpnel kicked up into her legs - but super strength and durability seemed to be a package deal more often than not. One can see the bits of metal just dig into her skin shallowly and stop, not even drawing blood. Doubly so as that tazer arcs towards her. It was an amazing shot.

The mutant just had that special durability. It arcs into her neck, sparking up and singing her hair, and the look that the blonde shoots over her shoulder is absolutely irritated… but she carries forward anyways, bringing up her arms and smashing through the wall.

The other two? Well, the ice mutant clutches the shoulder of the other, and with a vibrating flash of light… both vanish.

Sara would probably be there for some time, if she could manage - long enough to evacuate everyone safely, and for the police to get a construction company to hastily reinforce the supports of the thing - long enough for /her/ to get out too. For all intents and purposes, they'd be able to repair the building.

But needless to say, McCour's next speech would be a fiery one.

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