6062/To Tase or Not To Tase...

To Tase or Not To Tase...
Date of Scene:	28 December 2018
Location:	Metropolis
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Kar'ras, Armstrong, Darcy Lewis, War Machine, M

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Kar'ras has posed:
    It was a bright sunny day in metropolis and people had gathered. It was pro mutant pro alien rally with people coming in to state their opinions on such things. Some people come to support the rally, others came to wave big signs 'A good mutant is a dead mutant' and 'Go back home aliens' and the like. Kar'ras was watching overhead, mostly enjoying the sunshine and ignoring the people who seem to be booing him. He simply watches as senators come to speak at the rally about supporting mutant and alien causes.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong is on the fringes, where he generally belongs, observing the ever-spinning tumbling madness that is the affairs of the people who live on this awesome yet unpredictable mudball. He's eating a rather large peach, a napkin wrapped around his hand, out of season but still surprisingly juicy. He knows just the right stall to go to where he can get them even this time of year and he chews the rich, sticky flesh with a satisfied grunt. He has a long coat on and a stocking cap pulled down over his dark, unkempt hair and probably resembles a rather well-fed homeless man to most.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
SHIELD was called in for a nominal presence to ensure that none of the mutants and aliens on their radar got out of hand. What Darcy was doing here she had no idea. Being administrative more than field, she read her orders as 'keep people from Stupid and evac if Stupid shows up'. So, she sits street level, sipping a high priced coffee she can't afford because this was Company Time and so Company can pay for the coffee. Her heel bounced half on and half off her foot as her leg bounced on the opposite knee. Tablet in hand, and comm-device in her ear, Darcy was actually listening to the politicians, those senators and law makers, mentally tearing down their speeches, sorting them by platform and party lines and political philosophy. THis was like CSPAN.. live, and Darcy was a rather good study on political things.

War Machine has posed:
     Rhodes sets across from Darcy drumming his fingers on the top of the table as he looks over the sports section of a handy dandy digital newspaper. The things may never catch on but it's nice just to check the sports section here and there.

     Quietly under his breath he mutters the lyrics to a Metallica song, the same one he's drumming along with. It's a pretty decent cover to be fair, as he's been spending some time waiting on his order.

     Of course it would be easy for anyone to miss the fact that he's right now remote piloting a little drone that's watching the whole proceedings. The drone is disguised as little more than a pigeon soaring high above occasionally landing to look for crumbs and more importantly record the goings on from a proper vantage point.

     "Never cared much for politics" Rhodes finally says while going round for another patrol of the area. "Though I have to agree it'd be better if this constant stream of aliens would obey our citizenship laws instead of trespassing and acting like the own the place." He smacks down a coffee straw still keeping the beat even though he's far from a proper drummer.

M has posed:
    Lots of people who've met Monet would probably never dream of her attending such an event as this, based on their assumptions about her as a person after being around her for almost any length of time. But, she's actually a pretty fierce advocator of mutant rights, considering the fact that she's a mutant. That said, she isn't the type to get up and share her story or thoughts with the crowd.

    No. She's not ashamed of being a mutant, but she also doesn't see the need to welcome discrimination unless there's a good reason for it. She's used to discrimination of all sorts, not the least of which is the color of her skin, and she's not opening the door to mutant-hatred if she can help it. Still...these are important times, and she wants to be present...to be supportive with her presence, but also there to kick ass, if the bigoted decide to start a problem. And, as she scans the crowd from her vantage point, she catches sight of Armstrong, smacking on a peach. She narrows her eyes and begins making her way toward him.

Kar'ras has posed:
    Kar'ras watches as a pigeon is is circling past him for the upteenth time. This has garnered the attention of the alien and he begins to slowly floar after the pigeon. When it fails to land, again, he snatches at it in mid air and looks at it. "Your not a bird." He says as he looks the drone over and lets it loose. The senators had just begun talking, speaking about making laws which allows the public to keep track of aliens freeloading it on earth. This gets a shrug from the orange skinned man.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong sees Monet heading his way and raises a bushy set of eyebrows, commencing to accelerate his peach consumption with a bit of fervor. He's mostly done by the time she reaches him, "Hey there, sugarpuss! Fancy seein' you here and I -do- mean fancy. Would you care for a pomegranate or maybe a kiwi fruit? Like me, they're hairy and exotic, but tastier than you'd expect," he says with a sparkling grin.

"Technically, I'm not a mutant. I don't think. But I'm adjacent. Mutantesque. I'm sympathetic. Peope been hatin' and fearin' what's different since the Egyptians first saw the Greeks and said "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

War Machine has posed:
     The moment it's caught the bird self destructs in an instant there's no real pause in it and it's not a big explosion or anything just enough to fry all the electronics and hide the location of the operator. From the moment it's spotted it's pretty much too late.

     Then again those are the wonders of spy tools, the moment they're compromised they tend to self destruct in similar ways. There's not much of anything left of the pigeon just a small collection of feathers barely enough to even begin to go off of.

     Off to his own area Rhodes just swipes to a different camera view to one of the other hidden camera drones scattered about, the loss of one drone nothing at all to even begin worrying about.

     "Feels like they make a big deal out of nothing half the time." As Rhodes collects his cup of coffee making a few idle motions on the surface of the digital paper to adjust viewing trajectories to make sure he can adjust for the missing vision source.

     He even tosses the woman a nice tip for the speedy delivery of his drink as he continues to read over that sports section.

M has posed:
    Monet arches a perfectly-shaped brow at Armstrong as she finally reaches the spot he's ensconced himself in, listening as he greets her and offers her fruit, managing to do it slightly lewdly. She's silent so long that Armstrong might feel the pressure to speak, just to keep it from getting awkward, but a mere split moment before he gives into that urge, she speaks. "Kiwi fruit." And, she takes one, settling herself on a nearby surface, crossing her legs elegantly. She's dressed far too nicely for the situation -- but, honestly, when *isn't* that the case? Today, she's wearing a Givenchy power playsuit, McQueen knee-high boots beneath the thick fabric of her outfit, a plush Chloé double-faced wool melton coat, and, of course, an Hermés winter scarf with matching kid gloves.

    "We're all mutants, else we wouldn't 'ave evolved past being scum on z' bottom of z' oceans," she says dryly. "It's just zat we are different and can do zings zey cannot. Envy, fear, bitterness. It's no different, just wiss different words. Same shit, different day."

Kar'ras has posed:
    Kar'ras just watches as the bird destroys itself and he looks around at the other birds which look similar. He didnt want to make them destroy themselves so he left them alone. It is then that several people wearing hoodies begin to infiltrate the rally, seeming to spread out amongst the people. A couple bump into Monet and Armstrong as some walk by Rhodey and Darcy, moving closer to the rally's center.

War Machine has posed:
     It's a surprise to Rhodes how easily Kar'ras could spot the drones considering how perfectly they mimic every facet of animal functions down to the very heart beat, but with supers there's nothing out of the realms of possibility.

     "It's just a good thing that he only so far seems to have noticed the birds." Rhodes mutters to himself as he makes sure to send the photographs back to HQ for cataloguing. So far the op could still continue even if someone had beyond superhuman abilities.

     He leans down slightly towards the pad checking the feed and zooming in closer to get a better look as people go about their business. A single hand reaches to one side grabbing his coffee and taking a nice long sip. So far things are going about as expected in spite of a hitch here and there.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong proffers up the requested fruit as he's jostled by someone in the crowd pushing past him (and likely finding themselves the more likely to move - he has a wicked center of gravity). "Now we're mostly scum up out of the ocean. Speaking of which, I don't know about you, but whenever I see coordinated groups of people moving through a crowd while wearing similar identity-obscuring garments, I start to think something stinky might afoot. Not cheese. Cheese is wonderful, especially a fragrant and ripe blue, if you have the appropriate accoutrements. But young lady, something about you must attract trouble, because I do believe we're about to have a bit."

M has posed:
    Monet gives a death glare to the hooded individuals that bump into her, watching them weave through the crowd with little concern as to the people they're buffeting aside on their way forward. She takes the kiwi fruit from Armstrong's hand and throws it at the nearest hooded figure, aiming for the back of their head, and uses her telekinesis to /ensure/ it hits her target. "You know, Shit, I begin to wonder if you might be right about zat," she mutters, keeping her eyes locked on the person she just beaned in the back of the head with a ripe kiwi fruit. "Got more kiwi fruit? No. Wait. Pomegranate. It will 'urt more."

Kar'ras has posed:
    The man beaned with the fruit ignores the fruit beaning him and drops something on the ground nearby. They begin to make their way around dropping boxes on the ground at various places. It is then one of the boxes explodes causing people to begin panicking and trying to get away from each other as another box blows up. Kar'ras sees this and tries to help the people, floating down. "This way!" He says as another random person points. "The alien is doing it!" "No I am not I am trying to help!"

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong sees the boxes being set down and inhales deeply, bellowing with a rather impressive volume, "LEAVE CAREFULLY FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!" Because yelling bomb never works out very well, in his experience. He points towards two, "See if you can nab those miscreants, I'll chase down your errant fruit. Oh, and here," he says, tossing her a pomegranate and starting to run. Running, for him, is no small task, given his rather robust girth, but super strength helps. And it makes him awfully hard to stop as he heads towards a couple of the hooded guys and prepares to run one down like a freight train.

M has posed:
    Monet is already in motion as Armstrong calls out to her, catching the pomegranate with a backward flung hand. At the same time, she's sending out psychic pulses of heavy suggestion to the people in a radius of ten feet around her -- the suggestion is: calmly and quickly evacuate. As the people begin peeling off and revealing the packages, she attempts to contain the packages she can see in bubbles of TK that she will fling high up into the air and away from the crowd, to let them explode in a controlled environment, dampened by her TK fields. It's hard to keep her eyes on every person, but she does look for the hooded individuals as the people around her begin dispersing toward safety. She squeezes the pomegranate in her hand, ready to throw it -very hard- at the next ne'er-do-well she catches sight of.

Kar'ras has posed:
    The bombs explode in the bubbles and Kar'ras finally manages to start getting people out of danger. The hooded individuals begin leaving at top speed, scattering in every direction and trying to get away from everyone. It is then that Kar'ras flies after one of the hooded people. "I will not let you hurt anymore people!" He says as he tries to catch up to the hooded people.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong manages to grab a hooded man by the back of the neck, plucking him easily from the Earth and tossing him with a rather vicious and careless throw up and over the rest of the crowd. He watches as the bombs get contained and mutters a few swears under his breath in a variety of languages. He's quite formidable if they would just stand still, but he can't really catch up with the terrorists without stampeding over too many civilians. "Hey, you, floating tangerine boy! Get the people in the hoods!"

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy hadn't thougth she was going to have to evac anyone, but she did and so she had. When the first of the chaos began, Darcy stepped forward and made sure SHIELD agents were coordinating getting the civilians to safety so that now, with the streets clearing, she's able to take a moment to review the scene to look for the next thing she needs to do to try to contain this.

M has posed:
    The unfortunate side of the psychic suggestion AOE that Monet's using...is that it doesn't separate the bad guys from the innocents. So, they're all leaving in waves around Monet as she broadcasts her telepathic commands, making it more difficult to see the hooded figures. However, Monet's good at spotting the shabby hoodies and begins plucking the individuals in the matching outfits and tossing them into a heap as she sees them. She tries to be, at least, a /little/ careful, in case these people are innocents that got brainwashed or something. It wouldn't be the first time.

Kar'ras has posed:
    Kar'ras nods to the large man as he bellows orders and flies at super speeds. He plucks people in hoodies up and brings them back to the group. He does this for a while before finally stopping and dropping the last hoodied person next to them. "Why did they do this?" Kar'ras asks as he lands by the others. "Because freaks like you need to be purged from our planet once and for all." One of the hooded people says. Seems the rest are being quiet.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong shakes his head, "Sheesh. I hate to tell ya, old son, but I been walkin' this Earth a long, long time. The freaks have always been here. Ain't nothin' new under the sun. Except the Internet and those frozen Snickers bars. You ever have those, with the caramel? Frigging amazing," he says. "I gotta say, I like it when there's other powered people about, it makes my job easy. I fought for like twenty seconds and now I get a celebratory stogie. Cheers."

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Monet's scatter effect had made Darcy's job all the harder, but it's done enough. She plants her hands on her hips, lips pursing faintly as she surveys things, those hooded figures the others are after. Did they cause this? Curious and concerned both, Darcy makes her way over.

M has posed:
    Monet finally comes to stand behind and to the side of Armstrong as the heap of hoodied individuals is addressed. "Hatred wears many masks, Shit," she says to Armstrong. "But, what is hiding behind z' mask is always fear or envy," she concludes. "Has anyone called z' authorities?" she asks.

Kar'ras has posed:
    "I ran across a fake bird which I believed belonged to the authorities...I believe they will be arriving." Kar'ras says as he looks to Monet and brings a hand to his chest. "I am Kar'ras of Tamaran. I thank you for the aid. You saved everyone." He says with a smile to them as he watches the people.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong raises an eyebrow, "Fake bird? Like origami? One of those carved ducks they use in hunting? Fake can mean a lot of things, but if it's a fake police bird, I'll take your word for it, chum," he says. He strikes a match on a silver bracelet around his left wrist, lighting a cigar with a bit of a fragrant air. It's probably tobacco. In some percentage.

"Aram Ani-Padda," he says. "Or Armstrong. Or Shit, if you're Casablanca over there," he says, gesturing to Monet. "I ain't particular. That said, I'm not particularly keen on having a discussion of the ins and outs of the legal code with the local constabulary, so I think it's probaby wise I bid you all a fine adieu in relatively short order. Unless any of you have any particularly compelling reason to delay my departure?"

M has posed:
    Not trusting that some fake bird an orange man believes to belong to the authorities is accurate, Monet already has her cellphone out and is dialing 911. While everyone is exchanging pleasantries, she's plugging an ear with a finger and talking into her phone. It's almost certain that someone else has reported the situation, but she's not going to rely on the assumption. A job done thoroughly is a job done well, her father always said. She catches Armstrong's introduction and makes a note of it. "Monet St. Croix, or if it's simpler, M," she replies in that thick Monégasque-French accent of hers. If anyone present knows of the X-Men, her name has possibly been mentioned in connection with them. "At any rate, I have done what I can and I am late for an appointment," she murmurs, turning and leaving without so much as a goodbye.