11663/Bad Day for Bigots

Bad Day for Bigots
Date of Scene:	24 June 2020
Location:	Salem Center, Westchester County
Synopsis:	Shannon has a run in with some human supremacists. Snake Eyes intervenes and together the pair ruin the bigots' day.
Cast of Characters:	Snake Eyes, Nightingale

---

Snake Eyes has posed:
There's no terrorism going on in West Chester, at least according to the intel Snake Eyes had been given about hot spots in the area. That's why he chose this spot. Get to take it easy, do his people watching and grab a bite to eat at the burger joint. Maybe even take a stroll through the mall with his handler, Dial-Tone. Right at this moment Snake's in the back of their panel van so his ninja get-up won't be visible to outsiders. He's getting changed into something more appropriate for an everyday type of excursion. Turning away from his fellow Joe the ninja commando takes some time to exchange masks, going from ninja visor to regular Joe face. It takes a few moments to get the mask lined up perfectly with his bone structure, but once it's on it's difficult to tell that Snake ever had his face melted by flames. The rest of getting changed doesn't take nearly as long. Soon he's wearing jeans, black boots and a button up short sleeve shirt that shows off a forearm tattoo. Dial-tone is already wearing jeans and a polo with her hair tied in a ponytail and tucked under a cap. The woman speaks to her partner, "I heard this place was pretty good, Snake. Beachhead and Road Block ended up out here all the time when they were your backup for that smuggling thing a while back. The thing with the vampires."

The ninja replies by swiping on his phone and letting it's robotic sounding text to voice program speak for him, "Those guys do like to eat." Squeezing between the front seats easily he sits down to ride shotgun, buckling his seat belt before messing with the phone again, "Nice to see all the green on the ride out here. Makes me miss the forests."

Dial-Tone chuckles softly as she drives the vehicle into the big parking lot.

There are a bunch of people out now, enjoying the evening air and their fellow citizens. Except for a group of sour faced folks handing out pamphlets to passersby. "God hates mutants, ma'am," says one as he hands off the carefully folded, shiny paper. "Mutation is a sin," another tells someone who waves off their attempt to hand off another pamphlet. The rest continue to spew ugly speech and try to get people to pick up what they're selling, but they're mostly ignored. A group of youngsters in a convertible flips them off as they drive past. Seeing the youths showing their tallest fingers to the anti-mutant contingent gets a smile from Snake Eyes as he watches the scene. He swipes and the robot voice speaks, "Can you check to see if the police have gotten complaints about them yet? Once we're parked, of course."

Nightingale has posed:
     Going in to the burger joint, there had been zero sign of trouble. It had been an average, sweltering summer afternoon--the type where one can hardly think, let alone get up enough energy to perform such a prosaic task as actually /cook/. And it had resulted in a very pleasant afternoon for one young woman who is just emerging from the place now. Mostly, she seems normal enough--average height, pleasant looks where such things belonged, pale blue eyes and shimmering gold hair. Well, except for one thin ice-blue braid with three little silver beads dangling on the left side of her face. The rest seems pulled up in a bun, mostly to keep it off of her neck. She's wearing a black cropped peasant blouse that leaves a healthy--but modest--amount of midriff bare, a long red and gold tribal print broomstick skirt that swishes with every step she takes, and black, low wedge-heeled sandals. Tied at the waistband of her skirt is an old, worn, but well-loved leather bag, that one could only guess is pretty much her EDC--every day carry.

     Then there's the wings.

     It's impossible to miss them. Large, long, and sweeping, they are distinctly reminiscent of classical paintings of angels, as snowy white as the day is long.

     The girl looks as if she is perhaps in her mid to later teens, and she appears to be minding her own business, spreading her wings in preparation for flight--perhaps to home?

Snake Eyes has posed:
"Look at that!" One of the crowd of hateful pamphlet passers says as all of the sudden a young woman with angel wings just walks onto the sidewalk near them. 'How dare she?' is the look on the face of the jerk that calls out, "What are you doing here, mutant! Go back to Genosha!" Another shouts, "All mutants should die!" Yet another exclaims, "Look at you, flaunting your sin!" They move to begin surrounding her, yelling at her rather fearlessly.

Where moments before Snake Eyes had been amused by people insulting the crowd of bigots, now he's frowning and looking as though he's quite concerned. He taps Dial-Tone on the shoulder when the vehicle stops and signs at her, 'Let the police know government agents are on site so I don't get arrested.' And then he's off, heading through the parking lot towards the crowd.

More ugliness is yelled towards the young mutant. Folks, regular folks, have started to give the whole scene a wide berth. That or they've pulled out phones to collect video evidence of whatever's about to happen.

Nightingale has posed:
     Oh, lovely. Whereas Shannon had simply been getting ready to go home, now it looked as if she was in for a nice little row. How come people just couldn't live and let live? Those sweeping wings are drawn in tightly against her back, to present less of a target, her entire stance shifting to full alert as she glances about the crowd, assessing the situation. So far, it seemed to be just pamphlets and slogans. There didn't seem to be any sign of weapons on anybody, and nobody had actually laid a hand on her just yet.

     Perhaps there was a chance this could be defused without a fight.

     And perhaps pigs could fly, too. Wait, bad pun, dear reader. Strike that.

     Her own voice is a soft, silky alto, as she makes to reply. "This is a public space for all," she answers. "Even those of us with differing opinions or appearances. Please, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

     However, bigotry, like stupidity, could prove infinite....

Snake Eyes has posed:
"On your way where, harlot? To lay with the beast?" one of the jerks accosts her. Another, a rather large man, gets right in her face, "You can go when we say you can go." The other members of the crowd at his back cheer in agreement. "You're not entitled to your opinions, mutie. Coming out here, messing with innocent people. Trying to act like you're not walking, flying, sin." His eyes are wild and there's nearly spittle coming from his mouth as he barks, "We should tear those wings off your back. Maybe then you can be redeemed, sinner."

Snake is moving fast now, sliding between onlookers to try to get close. He tries whistling to get people's attention but it's not loud enough. His thumb swipes his phone screen and the robot voice says, "Police have been dispatched. Disperse. Disperse." But that's also not nearly loud enough. The phone disappears into a pocket as the ninja grits his teeth and shakes his head, frustrated at his inability to effectively communicate.

The big man accosting the mutant looks around, "You see, we're not going to let you hurt these fine people, sinner." He reaches to try to get ahold of some feathers.

Nightingale has posed:
     Crap. So much for trying to get out of this without a fight. There wasn't even enough room for Shannon to take to the air. The minute she opened her wings to fly, they would likely be broken, or torn off her spine. This was not a good situation to be in at all.

     When the large man made to grab for the leading edge of her wing to rip out some feathers, however, the teen could not let herself become this crowd's plaything. As her assailant reaches out to cause her bodily harm, her left hand darts out to curl around his wrist, while she twists about to throw him off-balance with her hip. Her right hand grasps the waistband of his pants from behind, and she pitches forward in a bid to hip-check him to the ground.

     "Now just stay down and let me go. I don't want to fight."

Snake Eyes has posed:
The big guy looks up from the ground, about to say something, when someone else in the crowd yells, "She did something to Zeb! Somebody stop her!" Others in the group of anti-mutant activists start to surge towards the young woman, hands reaching out to grab or try to strike.

By now Snake Eyes has gotten to the small crowd of bigots and doesn't hesitate to let them have it. The first guy gets kicked in the back of the knee hard enough to bring him down. The next person in line gets a chop to the side of the neck, sending them sprawling. Then there's a side kick to the head of another. It's enough to get the attention of the others in the little crowd who turn to face the soldier. He shakes his head at them and snaps his fingers, gesturing with a knife hand to their fallen, then back to the people in the crowd. Maybe it's a warning? Hard to tell, actually.

One of the assholes furthest away from the ninja commando is dumb enough to start reaching towards the waistband of his pants, under his shirt. Snake's head tilts slightly to the side and he moves like lightning.

Nightingale has posed:
     With the rest of the anti-mutant bigots surging towards her, Shannon starts to back away down the sidewalk, where hopefully she could get enough space to spread her wings out and get airborne, stat. But her chances didn't look good. At the very least, she was liable to get away with some feathers missing. At worst, very possibly her wings or more could wind up broken. It looked for a moment as if avenues of retreat would be cut off, and she would be left with no option but to defend herself again--and this time, against greater numbers.

     But then the one closest to her had the back of his knee kicked in. The next gets a chop to the neck, and on down the line. Her ice blue eyes go wide as she sees someone fighting to protect her, moving faster than most humans could dream of doing. Was this possibly a mutant, too?

     And yet, he didn't make a sound. Was he injured?

     After the last one gets side-kicked in the head, that opens up enough space for her to spread her wings. With a few strong downstrokes, she takes to the air, gaining some altitude to hopefully be out of immediate reach--but low enough to get a good view of what's going on, and see if her rescuer would be the one to need assistance.

     Somehow, though, she doubted it.

Snake Eyes has posed:
The dude reaching under his shirt comes up with a pistol. He doesn't hold onto it for very long before it's in Snake's hands and the soldier is racking the slide, aiming at the would be shooter's leg and putting a round through his femur. The gunshot is loud. Loud as hell. Many people looking on are shaken by the sudden violence. It seems to have calmed the agitated bigots, though. When Snake levels the weapon at them they raise their hands in the air, seemingly having had their fill. Taking his left hand off the weapon's grip Snake Eyes motions to the group he'd seen attack the young woman, once again aiming his knife hand at them before turning it sideways and waving it down towards the ground. One of them asks, "What do you want?"

There's a loud voice from behind the crowd, "Lie down on the ground and extend your arms out to your sides." Dial-Tone is there, holding a tricked out assault rifle and wearing some kind of lanyard with an ID on it around her neck.

The fellow that got shot screams in pain as he rolls back and forth, clutching his wound. It spurts bright red blood. Snake glances over when he feels some of the warm, sticky liquid splash against his pant leg and frowns.

"Let me grab you the aid bag," Dial-Tone tells her partner before she yells at the bigots, who are now starting to lay down on the cement. "He will literally shoot you all in the face if you make a move." And then she leans partway into the van, coming out with a camo backpack that looks quite heavy. Snake begins to back towards her, keeping the folks on the ground covered so that he can grab the medical equipment while Dial-Tone holds her rifle at the ready.

Not far away police sirens can be heard approaching.

Nightingale has posed:
     Bigot or not, Shannon was not about to let someone who was hurt go without care. Rather than fly off, as one might expect her to do--and as might actually be prudent--she lands next to the man that got shot. She keeps her wings tucked in tightly against her back as she crouches down next to him, reaching for her much smaller, lighter bag.

     It turns out the girl was not entirely unprepared herself, for the first thing she does is slip on a pair of gloves. The next is to put her hands over the wound on the man's leg if he allows her to, applying some pressure to slow down the bleeding.

     But it would not be enough, and she knew it.

     Glancing over to Snake Eyes, her brows furrow. "Thank you for helping me," she murmurs. "But do you have anything that'd make a tourniquet for this man's leg?"

Snake Eyes has posed:
When Snake gets back to the injured fellow and sees the woman already applying pressure he gives her a nod of his head and drops the aid bag. Tucking the gun he'd acquired belt he unzips his bag of medical equipment and comes up wearing black nitrile gloves and holding a Combat Application Tourniquet. He circles the patient before dropping his knee into the man's groin so as to put body weight on top of the artery, above the wound. Then Snake swiftly applies the tourniquet about six inches above the wound itself, cranking down on the windlass until it won't go any further. All this, of course, is painful to the patient but Snake is able to keep him from messing with any of the interventions by glaring at him and slapping his hand away.

Once the tourniquet is in place and Snake is sure it's doing the job he looks at Shannon and gives her a thumbs up and a nod. After that he's back to digging in the aid bag, looking for some gauze and an ACE wrap.

Meanwhile, Dial-Tone is showing off her identification to the police and explaining that they're government agents. "We need EMS on site to transport a perp, ASAP. If you would start cuffing the perp and his friends I'd appreciate it. Rather not have to shoot anybody today."

Nightingale has posed:
     With the tourniquet applied, Shannon could safely remove her hand from the wound on the man's leg. Thankfully, the cord does its job. She disposes of the gloves in the nearest bin, reaching for her bag again and fishing about. That was one hella gunshot wound. Would the supplies she carried be enough? She smiles and taps Snake on the shoulder again, holding out a small supply of gauze pads, and an ACE wrap. "Will this be enough?" she asks, offering a light smile.

     But it sounded like the police were on-site by now. Crap. She had to get out of here. Their presence was making her nervous. She'd really rather not be having to answer any questions right now.

Snake Eyes has posed:
Nodding his head at the young woman Snake takes what she offers and gets to work packing the wound and wrapping it up tightly. Takes a few moments, but it looks secure. Especially so when Snake whips out some medical tape and tapes the hell out of it. Once that's done he sort of starts to take his time, especially as a cop approaches with zip cuffs. Rather than let them put them on his patient Snake opts to do the job himself, then offers over the pistol in his waistband for the officer to take. It looks like he's about to head for Shannon but Snake Eyes lets out a whistle and shakes his head. From further away Dial-Tone says, "My partner's mute. He'll handle the girl, I'll handle the paperwork."

There are a few more things for Snake to do before he calls it quits with his patient. Now that the bleeding is stopped and the wound is dressed he runs an IV and starts pumping him full of fluids, then covers him up with a couple of thermal blankets. By the time the ambulance arrives the guy will be more than stable.

Peeling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash can, the ninja stands up and offer his right hand towards Shannon, looking like he's going for a hand shake. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts swiping so that the robot voice will speak, "Sorry that happened to you. You can stay here and talk to cops or else I'm going to go in hamburger place and pretend to debrief you so they leave you alone, then you sneak out the back and go home. My partner and I will handle paperwork."

Nightingale has posed:
     Under the circumstances, the plan suggested by Snake Eyes seemed the prudent one. She had no quarrel with the cops, and certainly did not want to bring trouble home with her--not when all she had done to wind up in a mess was to simply walk out of the burger joint, to go home. "It's not the first time I've been jumped, but it's one of the worst." Whether or not Snake's hand had been offered for a handshake, she offers hers. "If it's all the same to you, then, I owe you both a burger at the very least for this. Name's Shannon." Her fingertips are lightly calloused, reminiscent of someone who perhaps plays string instruments, and a bit needle-pricked like someone who knows their way around needle and thread.

Snake Eyes has posed:
The man's handshake is firm, but only just. He's got nothing to prove by squeezing the hell out of someone's mit. Once the handshake his complete he gestures towards the restaurant with one hand and swipes on his phone with the other, "Nice to meet you. Call me Snake." There's some more swiping to be done, "You walked outside and got accosted. Guy went to grab you and ended up on his ass. Good work."

The police begin rounding people up and others take witness statements. Dial-Tone waits by the gunshot wound guy as she talks to the cops until the ambulance arrives.

When the get to the door Snake moves to hold it open, glancing inside and looking for a spot to sit.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles at Snake, dipping her head as she steps through the door. "Thank you... gentlemen seem to be a dying breed." Her eyebrow arches at the name, however. Was that a code name? She pauses, considering for a moment. "My folks sometimes call me their little Nightingale, so I stick with that if needed." Thankfully, it's much cooler--and calmer--inside the burger joint. Stepping through the door gets a wry smile from the young woman, and she chuckles softly. "And I was just coming out of here after a date, too."

     At least as others outside are being rounded up, she's safely inside, and out of the way. That had been a close call. Too close. She cranes her neck to get a look at Dial Tone, and see if she can spot some identifying mark on the lanyard she was wearing. Who were these people that they had so much clout? With training like that, she'd guess military, but that was just a guess.

Snake Eyes has posed:
Once they're inside the restaurant Snake seems to relax a little bit, swiping out, "Nightingale is a pretty handle." He reaches up to touch his face as if making sure that everything is in place, then goes back to his phone to make it talk some more, "You need some purpose built tourniquets. Improvised ones take too long and are often too skinny. If they're too skinny they're going to cause extra pain and tissue damage." But then he shakes his head a little bit and has his phone say, "I hope the date was good, at least."

As they're shown their seats Snake Eyes moves so that he can sit facing the door. He has his phone tell the server, "Cheeseburger and chocolate shake for here. One cheeseburger to go for my friend outside."

The lanyard is hard to make out at this distance, but the symbol on it looks mostly blue. Between her lanyard and her rifle Dial-Tone seems like she's taken over the scene for the time being. She pulls out her own phone and puts it to her ear, obviously chuckling into it.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Knew my kit was missing something," Shannon replied, looking a little bit annoyed with herself. She plops that small leather bag on the table, opening it and starting to rifle through. There are, of course, a few pairs of gloves, some gauze dressings, some medical tape, antibiotic ointment, antiseptic wipes--pretty much the small, basic items it would be easy for her to keep on hand on a regular basis. It also has her phone and what looks to be a small Bluetooth earpiece, and a well-loved, slightly dog-eared calling card.

     As Snake places his order, Shannon grins at the server. "Just some onion rings and a chocolate shake for me, thanks." The mention of her date, coupled with the compliment of her handle, brings out a light, rosy glow to her cheeks. "Thanks, it was. Completely impromptu, but it worked beautifully." She smiles lightly, tilting her head, and glancing at her hands. Her fingers flex, and she considers for a moment. "If I'd wanted to," she offers. "I could have healed that man's wound another way. Which is kind of why my folks tagged me with Nightingale. He already hated me just for being a mutant, though. That would have been pouring gasoline onto a fire."

Snake Eyes has posed:
"First aid is good to know," Snake's phone speaks after he runs a thumb across the screen. "I can instruct you in combat life saver if you want. You may need it more than most civilians, being a mutant." He does carefully study the contents of her bag, though, nodding his head solidly a few times. When she starts to blush and smile Snake finds himself smiling right along with her. "You have healing powers, too? And you fly?" he swipes. "You're a good person to know. You're right about not demonstrating more abilities in front of assholes."

Nightingale has posed:
     "The downside of that ability is I would have taken on the wound instead." There. Let Snake process /that/. "Wouldn't have done anybody any good in the end, not that time."

     It looked as if, going by her new friend's reaction as he studied the contents of her bag, she had been on the right track, which elicits a cheery smile. "Still got a lot to learn, but hey, not bad for almost 17. And speak for yourself about being a good person to know!" The offer of more combat-oriented first aid has her raising her eyebrows. "That'd be great, but how would I find you again?"

Snake Eyes has posed:
When Shannon tells him about taking the wound herself Snake visibly winces, shaking his head a little bit. He glances outside to make sure things are going alright, then starts messing with his phone again, "Text is good. I have a personal cell number I can give you. Just don't share it." There's a silent chuckle from the soldier, "I could also teach you hand to hand combat. You looked good out there, though, whoever you learn from, keep learning." His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks at it, then frowns before replying to the message he received. Then he's looking at Shannon again, "Okay Nightingale. I think the cops want to interview me as soon as we're done here. I told my partner to let them know you're debriefed, but they'll want to get my testimony since I shot that guy. Got to play nice with local cops." Then he grins, "Let me give you my number, you text me and if I'm not working I'll grab supplies and show you CLS."

Nightingale has posed:
     That has Shannon beaming with pride, her wings ruffling and spreading outwards ever so slightly. "Thanks, I'll do that. And... what cell phone number? I don't know about that, do you?" She winks at Snake; it seems she was used to keeping info like that to herself. Just whose info was on that calling card, anyhow?

     Glancing outside, she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "God, I hate having to sneak out the back, but what can ya do? Hey... tell your partner thanks from me, too? Please?" With numbers exchanged, and snacks eaten, it was sadly time to part ways. "I'll try not to bug you too much. Though it /is/ nice to say hello to friends every so often. CLS, and hand to hand, huh? Heh. Interesting times ahead."

Snake Eyes has posed:
There's a nod from Snake at Shannon's agreement to forget about the number. He eats quietly since his hands are busy with the food, then nods a couple of times more when the young woman tells him to thank his partner. At the suggestion that she won't bug him too often Snake Eyes shrugs his shoulders as if dismissing the thought. He swipes on his phone again, "It will be fun. I think you will be a good student. Keep yourself safe, keep going on dates and having fun, too." Then he tilts his head towards the back door and waves a hand before getting up with a resigned sigh and heading for the front door.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon grins, nodding in assent. "I'll try." Do. Or do not. There is no try. Nerd creds, people, nerd creds. With that, she finishes her snack, and slips out the back door, jogging a short distance away before taking to the air, heading for home.