Oh, let's tell the world we're unheard (open!)

[Sofia Mantega]

Maybe New York City hadn’t been the best destination after all. Sofia had thought—well, actually, she hadn’t thought anything at all prior to this cross-country excursion. All she was going on was that fight-or-flight instinct, manifesting itself as flight this time—fight certainly wouldn’t work on one Mr. Barrett, because him actually giving a shit was a bit necessary for her to win any such fight. So it was either this, or get sent somewhere else where no one wanted her, even if it was back home. But it wasn’t really home without her mother there; she had to keep telling herself that—she couldn’t run home to mommy anymore.

So instead here she is in New York, rational thought finally taking charge over her emotional impulses that had been guiding her thus far. This is nothing like Caracas… she thinks as she steps off the bus, the thankfully final bus in a chain of crowded, smelly buses that had brought her here from Colorado. Feet on the curb, she stands mesmerized by this foreign city—this miserable city is her first impression. The first thing she notices is the air, the smoggy, choking air eliciting a series of coughs from her throat. In mid-coughing fit, one of her fellow smelly bus travelers charges past her, knocking her down to her knees without so much as an “excuse me.”

Yeah, ‘this miserable city’ is right.

But she can’t let that keep her down, literally or figuratively, so she pulls herself back to her feet, tempted to shoot a burst of wind after the retreating stranger, see how he likes being knocked down on this dirty pavement—but vindictiveness was never one of her qualities, so all she does is glare.

And now all her inertia, momentum, all those strange physics terms she’s never understood, have died away and all she can think is that she’s never seen skyscrapers quite that tall before. Deep breath, eyes squeezed shut, she has to start walking or she’ll never stop gaping, or worse, she’ll crawl back onto that bus; at least she has somewhere to be in Colorado and—no, that train of thought ends there, and that’s what it takes to get her going. “I’m not going back,” she mutters, resolutely, convincingly, and now she just has to figure out where the hell to go next.

And so she walks. It’s really a gamble, deciding where to go, and she figures there’s really only one way to do it—she mentally latches onto the first person she sees when she opens her eyes again. Unfortunately, Sofia’s improvised tour guide seems to know exactly where he’s going, and he’s going there fast, and there are definitely way too many black-trenchcoat-clad backs in this city so—so much for that plan.

Sighing, she looks to the sky; she can always rely on the sky being the same wherever she goes. A plane flies overhead, leaving behind that cloudy exhaust trail—and there is her new guide. No one else in this city seems to care who they bump into, so Sofia feels confident enough walking with her eyes pointed skywards, and this particular Plan B lasts her long enough to catch the word “mutant” over the crowds and she stops short, head dropping back to its normal level, eyes searching for the source of the voice. In the middle of New York City is the last place she’d think to hear this, and she realizes how sheltered she has been throughout her life. Her mother would never let her watch any of this on the news, saying none of it really mattered, it didn’t involve her, and her father was of course intent on ignoring the fact he had a mutant for a daughter, so Sofia had always been only vaguely aware that the world cared about mutants at all. Perhaps this kind of naiveté was not a good thing to have while entering New York City.

But even with that vague uneasy thought, Sofia walks towards the voice she heard, spotting a crowd watching some sort of speaker; it seemed as good a destination as any. She comes up along the back, not sure what to expect at such a gathering, and slowly works her way through the closely packed bodies that seemed enthralled by the speech going on. Curious, she pulls the speaker’s voice towards her with a satisfied smile at finally getting to do this again—but that smile dies quickly as she hears the words he’s actually speaking. And the bewildered stares she receives from those surrounding her catch her breath in her throat—she didn’t only amplify the speaker’s words for her own hearing, but for that of all the people around her who were certainly not expecting such a drastic change in volume.

And the next thing she hears is, “Hey, I saw this one on the news! She completely wrecked a whole supermarket!” from one of the people in the crowd, and then all is silent. Claustrophobia pushes in all around her but she’s fighting it, pushing the air away from her, sheltering herself in a safe silent bubble as winds push out around her with all the force of her panic. She drops to her knees and she’s remembering the view of her father’s supermarket floor, speckled white tiles that broke her fall the last time, it was supposed to be the last time…

[Warren Worthington III]

(( OOC: picking up from Above the Insanity ))

It takes no more than a second to regain altitude, and the weird atmospheric effect acts like a beacon to his windsense, so moments later he spots the center of attention, a young girl on her knees in the middle of a weird three-dimensional micro-hurricane… clearly some kind of artificial defensive shield, presumably the result of her mutant ability. Around her, an angry mob is unsuccessfully attempting to reach her, being pushed back or knocked over, so intent on her that they don’t even notice Warren gliding above them.

He considers shouting down to her, but he doubts she’d hear a word he says over the winds she’s creating, and besides it would call attention to him. And dropping down to the ground would only incite the crowd to take their anger out on him… which he could probably handle, but why provoke further violence?

Are you getting this, hon? Maybe you could “talk” to her, see if she’s willing to be airlifted out? I’d rather not freak her out; from the feel of that wind-shield she could probably splatter me across the pavement accidentally.

On further thought, he adds over their communicators "We’ve got a new mutant in the crowd, apparently a wind-controller like Storm… doesn’t seem hostile; just stressed out. Josh and I are working on an extraction strategy."

Meanwhile, as he hovers over the crowd and the anxious-looking woman, Primer’s pheromones – diffused by distance and strong winds but still potent for all of that – begin to work their way into his system, and his attitude towards the crowd begins the slow descent from annoyance to rage. God damn it, she’s just a kid, and look at them! They’d rip her to pieces if they could get to her. Swear to God, Josh, there are days I could just sweep them all up and drop them in the fucking ocean, know what I mean?

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> I might have just spotted the cause of all this… some kind of atmospheric-effect female mutant in the middle of that crowd. Hook up with me for a sec; I’m going in for a fly-by and want you to look her over also… maybe if we airlift her out of there the craziness will die down.

Will do. What the hell is a mutant doing here? This isn’t exactly the place and time. Internally, he knows that an anti-mutant demonstration isn’t exactly the best place for them to be - especially Warren - and he resolves to protect his love as best he’s able. Already, he can see a bottle here and there being thrown upwards at Warren. Most of them begin falling before they come close, but one he redirects into the nearby side of a building, and the glass shatters. The noise is undetectable under the roar of the crowd.

As he watches the riot spread closer to his location, Josh feels the press of cold metal against the back of his neck. “Turn around. Slowly.” Oh, shit.

Josh does so, and is confronted with a trio of NYPD dressed in riot gear. The lead officer motions him back a step, and Josh complies immediately. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The officer gestures at the black uniform.

> Are you getting this, hon? Maybe you could “talk” to her, see if she’s willing to be airlifted out? I’d rather not freak her out; from the feel of that wind-shield she could probably splatter me across the pavement accidentally.

His voice finally returning, Josh stares back. “Um. The X-Men? We’re on your side… we’re here to make sure no one gets hurt. There are four of us, and everyone’s dressed like I am. We’re a branch of the Department of - - ” The commander cuts him off.

“I know who you are. I watch the news, you know. And I remember you. You’re dating that rockstar kid, the one who’s on my daughter’s wall.” He sounds irritated, and lowers his gun. Josh gets the feeling that he would be in handcuffs if the man didn’t have much bigger problems on his hands.

Josh doesn’t dare correct the officer. “Right. And I’ve kind of got to help him, so if you don’t mind…” The man shrugs his shoulders, and as Josh starts running in the opposite direction, he calls, “Don’t get in our way! We’re the professionals here!”

Right, because this is being handled so well right now. He reaches back over his mental link to Warren and replays his visual memory. In his mind’s eye he sees the young girl, who looks frightened, at least according to Warren’s enhanced visual acuity. Sorry. Situation, handled. Let me see if I can get her. He continues to run towards the edge of the crowd.

Hey, wind girl? My name’s Josh. I’m a mutant too, and my partner Warren’s the guy with wings flying above you. If you could drop your wind-thing in the space above you, he can carry you to safety. He tries to project as much sincerity and honesty as he can.

Josh finally reaches the edge of the crowd and jumps, a telekinetically-enhanced leap that carries him far above the heads of most of the crowd. He propels himself to another open spot closer to Warren and the girl’s attackers, and hits the pavement running.

> God damn it, she’s just a kid, and look at them! They’d rip her to pieces if they could get to her. Swear to God, Josh, there are days I could just sweep them all up and drop them in the fucking ocean, know what I mean?

This stops Josh short. That’s not like Warren… Warr? You okay? The thought seemed somewhat violent for someone (in Josh’s opinion, anyway) so gentle. Despite that, he felt Warren’s righteous anger flowing in over their telepathic bond and inflaming him, as well. I do. I wish that we could walk down the street and not be afraid someone’s going to attack us for being different. Sometimes I hate them for it.

He whirls as he feels ill intent zeroing in on him. A man, eyes mindless with anger, bearing down on him with a piece of wood, raises it to attack. Angrily, Josh tosses him backwards into the crowd, and jumps again, leaping closer to Warren's location.

[Sofia Mantega]

Sofia quickly shuts down her memories—she’s away from that now, she can’t keep thinking back to that one mistake, that one time ‘things got out of hand’—it’s easier to think about it like that, handy little euphemisms to hide behind so she can forget the hopelessness she felt and the destruction it caused. Things got out of hand. That’s all she needs to remember, enough of a warning to keep it from happening again.

(That’s what she does, tucks away her bad memories into some manageable corner of her mind where she can pretend that’s all it takes to get over them—she copes with bitterness and escapism, but that never lasts forever.)

Why are they still coming after me? She’s scared to move, scared it’ll break the concentration and the winds that feel as if they’re bursting from just below her skin (she knows that’s impossible, that she doesn’t create wind, just gets the air moving, but there’s still that tingly rush coursing through her—maybe that’s what power feels like she thinks suddenly, and suffers an involuntary shiver at that) will dissipate and leave her exposed and vulnerable, which, from what she can tell of the unrelenting bodies running towards her, would end with her trampled in the streets. She can feel the rally-goers rushing at her; each impact of their bodies to the wind weakens her control, wearing down at the little hurricane she has created.

She looks up; it’s eerie, she thinks, to see all this chaos around her, while she huddles safe and silent in her eye of the storm. She watches her attackers falling again and again, ignoring their scrapes and bruises to come after her and it doesn’t make any sense. But I am causing all of these scrapes and bruises...so they do have a reason to want to hurt me too. Her windstorm falters a bit at that thought; a break in her silent bubble allows for the angry cries of the crowd to reach her ears, inciting another spike of panic to bring the force of her winds right back up. Self-defense. It’s self-defense, she tells herself, looking back down and away from the carnage all around her.

Hey, wind girl?

The feeling of a strange voice in her head comes as too much of a shock in her already overly anxious state, and she snaps her head up, too quickly to prepare for its smack right into the winds rushing above her. Her head whips to the side, twisting much more than necks should twist and in that moment she loses her control of the wind, and the entire shield dissipates into dead air all around her.

My name’s Josh. I’m a mutant too, and my partner Warren’s the guy with wings flying above you. If you could drop your wind-thing in the space above you, he can carry you to safety.

She hears--thinks? feels?--the words “mutant” and “safety” in her mind and has no time to think with the crowd undoubtedly pushing in on her, so instead she jumps, sending a burst of air underneath her to try and keep herself suspended long enough for these mutants to act on their promises of safety.

[Warren Worthington III]

> Warr? You okay? … I do. I wish that we could walk down the street and not be afraid someone’s going to attack us for being different. Sometimes I hate them for it.

"Exactly! God-damned fucking bastards!" It feels odd to be swearing like that – especially out loud in the middle of a telepathic conversation – but somehow satisfying as well. Who says he has to be the nice guy all the time? Especially when it comes to nursetending a crowd of overbred morons too dumb to realize, or care, that he’s trying to help their congenitally bigoted asses.

He’s been evading hand-launched missiles from the crowd for a little while now, without really thinking about it… they’re hardly a threat to someone who can dodge machine-gun fire, after all. But when yet another bottle comes arcing at him from behind he loses his temper, smacking it hard with a wingtip and sending it rocketing back at its previous owner like a too-tentative volleyball serve. "Remember that, asshole, next time you try to nail a mutant from behind!" he snarls at the now-bleeding man, growing increasingly frustrated by the horrified and furious looks he gets from the crowd around him. "What are you people, retarded? Back off, before I – "

Whatever threat he was going to make is cut off by “wind-girl” suddenly launching herself into the air. What the – ? He almost gives her the same treatment as the bottle, a furious wingslap against the nearest wall, except that the harmless slipstream from the burst of air propelling her upwards seems, for reasons he can’t explain, to clear his head a little. Besides, she’s not the enemy here, he was trying to help her… at least, he’s pretty sure he was.

"Gotcha!" He swoops in at the top of her trajectory, catching her around the waist with one arm and climbing several dozen meters with his next wing-sweep. As he climbs, his anger fades away as if it had never been, leaving behind a combination of puzzlement and guilt. Did I really just do that? That poor guy… I could have blinded him!

He shakes that off for the moment, though, to concentrate on reassuring his new catch. "Hi! Like Josh ‘said’, I’m Warren… and don’t worry, I’m good at this. Relax if you can, you’re safe now. Please make sure your tray tables are fully closed and your seat backs are in the upright position. I recognize that you have a choice of flying rescuers and thank you for flying Warren Air…"

[Sofia Mantega]

What am I doing I can’t fly I can’t trust my life to complete strangers oh god don’t let me drop… That old cliché warning of ‘don’t look down’ passes Sofia by as she glances back down at the mess below her. She sees the spot she left behind, watches her attackers ramming into each other instead at the absence of their original target, watches as they refocus their violent rage on each other, regardless of the injuries they’ve already suffered, and now she knows this can’t just be a case of prejudice gone way out of hand. Something else is happening here, and she feels a selfish wave of relief—this isn’t my fault.

And then there is more relief as she feels the arm grabbing her about the waist and finally she lets her body relax. Exhaustion overwhelms her, but it’s a comforting exhaustion, like a heavy blanket on a cold night. She’s never used her powers so strenuously, never kept them going for so long, but now she’s done, now she doesn’t have to protect herself anymore.

"Hi! Like Josh ‘said’, I’m Warren… and don’t worry, I’m good at this. Relax if you can, you’re safe now.”

“Hello…” she murmurs, finally looking up at the winged mutant that had basically saved her life. That phrase seems so absurd—a couple days ago her biggest concern was a little bit of loneliness (well, a lot of loneliness, but it doesn’t seem so big at this moment) and now she’s being saved from angry, murderous mobs by a winged boy and his partner who can speak in her mind. But right now that’s all she has to hold on to, so she offers a smile to this complete stranger, keeping her eyes on him lest she look back down and see that this all was far from over.

“Please make sure your tray tables are fully closed and your seat backs are in the upright position. I recognize that you have a choice of flying rescuers and thank you for flying Warren Air…"

That breaks her dazed silence and she bursts into slightly hysterical giggles, one hand clinging to his shirt as her body trembles with a release of nerves. “No, thank you!” she replies, sincerity underlying her joking tone. “I’m Sofia.” She suffers another burst of giggles at this situation—exchanging names in the middle of the sky, next we’ll be chatting about the weather... Once she is somewhat calm again, she finally asks, “…What is going on?”

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

The next time Josh lands, he’s nearly to Warren and the girl. This time, as he touches down, he has to telekinetically hold the crowd around him from engulfing him. He’d hoped that by jumping instead of flying, the more unpredictable course would avoid aerial attacks. While he could worry less about wind currents, Warren had more agility, and his body was made to fly - too many inversions and abrupt changes of direction made Josh feel sick. Stop it, you idiots! Damn it! Let go of me!

In one maneuver, he knocks them backwards like bowling pins, and lifts off the ground, spiraling upwards. As he rapidly gains altitude, he sees the girl fly upwards and Warren catch her. At the same time, his own anger rapidly fades away. What… was that? Warren had become angry when he’d arrived into the worst of the crowd, as well, and he’d caught on to Warr’s anger through their mental bond… or so he thought.

> Did I really just do that? That poor guy… I could have blinded him!

His anger is gone, too... Once again, Josh focuses on detecting telepathic manipulation on the crowd. Nothing… wait. After double checking, to his surprise, he finds a tenuous psychic link between a boy in the crowd and… Creed? Huh. He squints down the block, but is unable to make out much until a thunderbolt arcs across the stage.

> “Impulse, Angel - the crowd is behaving extremely erratically. After holding them back with wind, they seem to lose their violent tendencies. Are we dealing with a telepath?”

Now who’s telepathic… Josh shakes his head. “Storm - I just found one, but he’s not affecting the crowd - just Creed. I’m not safe enough to try to take him on. Rogue, do you think you can check it out? He’s somewhere between you and the stage. A boy.” He twists to avoid more projectiles.

Josh loops in an arc towards Warren and the girl. You guys okay? Sorry I wasn’t there to help… He gives an abashed look. What’s your name, anyway? And how did you get into this mess? We, at least, are here on purpose… Josh hastily erects a shield under them, and more objects bounce harmlessly away.

[Warren Worthington III]

> "No, thank you! I’m Sofia. What is going on?"

Warren is relieved that the girl really does seem relaxed – he’s not sure he would be, if their positions were reversed, but it’s a good thing. "Sofia, I’ll be honest… I wish I knew. We thought someone might attack the ralliers, but the crowd seems to have gone crazy instead. Any idea what might be causing that?"

He doesn’t really want to come out and ask her if her powers can affect mood or behavior or anything like that – who knows how she’ll react if she thinks he’s challenging her? Still, the fact that she was in the middle of that insane crowd without herself being affected does need explaining.

> " Impulse, Angel - the crowd is behaving extremely erratically. After holding them back with wind, they seem to lose their violent tendencies. Are we dealing with a telepath? "

After holding them back with wind? Hm…. The connection is hard to miss… Sofia, who was surrounded by a wind-barrier, wasn’t affected. Warren was affected – the more he thinks about that poor guy with the bottle, the less he believes he did that on his own – but then recovered after Sofia’s windburst and getting some altitude. And the crowd is recovering in the face of Storm’s wind-barriers.

"Actually, now that I think about it," he speaks normally so Sofia can hear him, as well as into his concealed mike, "Maybe we’re dealing with some kind of gas attack? Like a psychoactive drug, or something. Clearing the air around the crowd might help snap them out of it… Storm, Sofia, do you think you can do that?" The crowd seems to be focusing its attention on the obvious mutants now, rather than each other, and that’s all to the good… at least fewer people are getting hurt.

He doesn’t share his other suspicion just yet, that he knows who’s responsible… but he did see Matthew, and Matthew has been spending a lot of time with the Collins girl, and this sounds just like her power. And it would be entirely reasonable for her to get angry at an anti-mutant rally, especially after everything that happened to her during the Invasion… and she doesn’t really have her power under control.

He’s interrupted by Josh’s arrival, doing his telekinetically augmented hoppy-toad trick (he can’t help chuckling at that… it just looks so goofy!).

> You guys okay? Sorry I wasn’t there to help…

"We’re fine. Sofia, this is Josh – or, um, Impulse, if you prefer that sort of thing. Josh, this is Sofia. Would you mind holding onto her for a minute?" He lets Josh see his theory as he scans the crowd for the tall redhead, spotting him near the alley the calmer crowd was heading towards.

Well, so much for my theory. If it was Collins responsible for this, the crowd around them would be the craziest part… instead, they’re all acting like they’re on line for Who tickets…

[Warren Worthington III]

So, if it the Collins girl isn’t responsible, then who, or what? Warren isn’t sure. He’s vaguely aware of other activity going on around him – the police, the crowds, Storm’s wind-manipulations – but only in broad strokes; a crowd this size is hard to keep track of. Mostly, he’s paying attention to projectiles that might hit something, batting away or dodging the ones that get past Josh’s defenses.

Rogue’s sudden attack on one of the crowd gets his attention, though, especially when his first impression of her target is of a frail young boy. His first thought is that she’s been affected by whatever it is that’s enraging everyone and is attacking civilians. Oh, Lord, no… my fiasco with the beer-bottle was bad enough, but Rogue will kill that kid!

Sofia’s weight is already being lifted out of his hands as Josh picks her up telekinetically, so he dives abruptly to intercept Rogue… not that he has any chance of catching her in time, or of stopping her if he does, but he has to try.

(( Dropping off this thread, moving over to The Sound and the Fury ))

[Sofia Mantega]

[[Ack, sorry for the late and crappy post! Stupid homework kept me from replying earlier so now I'm quickly jumping back in!]]

"Sofia, I’ll be honest… I wish I knew. We thought someone might attack the ralliers, but the crowd seems to have gone crazy instead. Any idea what might be causing that?"

“I…what? No, I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on at all…” she replies, and it’s the truth—she’s feeling more and more lost every second. Does he think I have something to do with it? She jumps to defend herself, “I’m not—,” but she’s interrupted as he continues.

"Actually, now that I think about it…Maybe we’re dealing with some kind of gas attack? Like a psychoactive drug, or something. Clearing the air around the crowd might help snap them out of it… Storm, Sofia, do you think you can do that?"

“…One updraft, coming up. Sofia? Please assist me as you are able.”

Who are these people? Sofia wonders, picking up the new voice over Warren’s communication system. She wants to ask, find out who they are, why they’re here, what all of this craziness means—it’s all going over her head, she can barely comprehend this. And now they want her to help? He’s talking to her like she’s supposed to be there, like she’s one of them ready to save the day, but she’s lost and exhausted and the idea of doing anything but burying her head in Warren’s shirt until this is all over (but what happens then?) is overwhelming—but then the air stirs around her, a small breeze picking up. This must be the adrenaline, like I’m going into overdrive… “Maybe I can help…” she murmurs in a small, incredulous voice, more to herself than to her flying rescuer.

You guys okay? Sorry I wasn’t there to help… What’s your name, anyway? And how did you get into this mess? We, at least, are here on purpose…

"We’re fine. Sofia, this is Josh – or, um, Impulse, if you prefer that sort of thing. Josh, this is Sofia. Would you mind holding onto her for a minute?"

Sofia watches as Josh arrives, relieved to have a face to associate with the voice in her mind, as if that made it any less strange. She gives a small wave to Josh, and jumps on the chance to explain herself in response to his question. “I’m not supposed to be here!” she exclaims, much louder than she’d meant to. She realizes how suspicious that might sound and quickly adds, “Or—er—well, I didn’t mean to be here, to get into this mess, I just…don’t really have anywhere to go and I ended up here and—” and then the arm that had been holding her up is gone as Warren swoops off elsewhere, and a jolt of panic shoots through her as she anticipates her plummet to the crowds. Her fear spurs on a greater burst of wind from her already overcharged powers, but it’s raw and unfocused and simply dies off as her body realizes it’s not going anywhere with the force of Josh’s telekinesis. Her mind, however, is more hesitant to accept that fact.

“…What is happening? Are—are you doing this? You’re keeping me up here, right?”

She feels slightly ridiculous, panicking like this, when all of this is clearly no big deal to Josh and Warren, but the bizarre feeling of being suspended midair isn’t so easy for her to ignore.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

As Josh watches Warren speed off to Rogue, he notices Sofia’s seeming discomfort, which she voices.

> “…What is happening? Are—are you doing this? You’re keeping me up here, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! You don’t know about my telekinesis. Well…” He gestures. “You do now, anyway. And you can relax - only way you’re going to drop out of the sky is if I’m falling with you. Maybe we can compromise until you trust me a little more, though?” He grins, and Sofia floats behind him where she can wrap her arms over his shoulders. It’s not likely that she’s going to be able to hold well, but it should at least give her the illusion of it…

The hail of projectiles has finally gotten on Josh’s nerves, and with Sofia safe, there wasn’t much point in the two of them being in midair. “Okay. Time to go…” He propels them to a relatively low-density area of the riot and touches to the ground.

> "but the kid she was targeting put some kind of whammy on her!"

“Um… try hitting him in the head? That always breaks my telepathic concentration…” Josh would laugh if Rogue hadn’t been in trouble. He starts off on foot towards Warren, but stops. Sofia!

He turns around and eyes her. Can’t leave her, things aren’t safe. “You’d better come with me. I don’t want anyone to try to hurt you again.” Josh grabs her hand, much like a big brother, and starts into a run. “If you see an old guy in a doofy helmet, get lost in the crowd. Believe me, you’ll be safer.”



(Crossing into 'Sound and the Fury')