Julian Keller | Hellion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellionated) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-05-05 02:12 pm
hellionated) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-05-05 02:12 pm
Take Us Out
WHO: Julian and Namora
WHERE: City streets. I am the most specific
WHEN: Saturday evening/night
WARNINGS: Fighting with prejudice
SUMMARY: Anti-Import feeling has been growing in the City. Julian and Namora find themselves caught up in it.
FORMAT: Prose to start and then however you want
Ever since the Skrull attack, the City had become a less friendly place. For as long as Julian had been here, local people had accepted the Import population. Compared to the reception most mutants got in Julian's world, things had been good here. People were tolerant even in spite of the regular property damage caused by superpowered fighting. Because with heroes came villains, and with that came collateral damage. But the Imports had been brought here to be those heroes. Living up to the name had to be part of that. Julian had never trusted that attitude. He knew how quickly things could turn. That was why most of his time was spent around other Imports, not around locals. It was just instinct. Vulcanus had changed things. Slowly at first, but then with growing direction. The Skrull invasion hadn't covered Imports with any glory. That the tide had turned wasn't surprising. Julian mostly wondered why it had taken so long.
But that didn't mean he accepted it, and it didn't mean he was willing to take that anti-Import attitude when it was right in front of him. He didn't care that locals were scared, or that what they'd during the fighting had horrified them, or that there was truth in the idea that if no Imports were around, things like that just wouldn't happen. As far as he was concerned, everything the Imports had done had been for the good of the whole City. Seeing anti-Import graffiti, hearing of other Imports being intimidated or attacked, made him furious. Ingrates like that weren't worth defending. They reminded him of home. He hated them.
He hadn't gone out looking for trouble. At least not consciously. He may not have gone through the best neighborhoods, but that was incidental. He'd gone out to meet Namora, who he hadn't seen since the Beach a couple weeks ago. He hadn't planned to come across a set of those idiots, spray painting anti-Import stupidity against the side of a building wall. He stopped, staring at them with disgust. He could have walked on by. Maybe that would have been better. He wasn't far from where he'd said he'd meet Namora. But walking away from shitheads like this had never been a strong point of his, and they were asking for it. He took out his comm and left a voice message.
"Namora? I might be late. I ran into some of our fans."
That got the gang's attention. They turned to look at him. He could see they weren't just packing spray paint now. The briefest glance told him they had baseball bats and a couple of those reflective glints might have been evidence of knives. He didn't care about that. He might have been outnumbered, but bats and knives wouldn't do anything against his telekinesis. He was paying attention to the spray paint in their hands. His eyes glowed green and he ripped the can away from them. It was almost empty, which meant the amount of paint splashing over them when his powers crushed it in mid-air wasn't as much as it could have been. But it was enough to send them charging towards him. Gangs like this were the real scum in this City. He'd remind them why they needed to fear Imports.
WHERE: City streets. I am the most specific
WHEN: Saturday evening/night
WARNINGS: Fighting with prejudice
SUMMARY: Anti-Import feeling has been growing in the City. Julian and Namora find themselves caught up in it.
FORMAT: Prose to start and then however you want
Ever since the Skrull attack, the City had become a less friendly place. For as long as Julian had been here, local people had accepted the Import population. Compared to the reception most mutants got in Julian's world, things had been good here. People were tolerant even in spite of the regular property damage caused by superpowered fighting. Because with heroes came villains, and with that came collateral damage. But the Imports had been brought here to be those heroes. Living up to the name had to be part of that. Julian had never trusted that attitude. He knew how quickly things could turn. That was why most of his time was spent around other Imports, not around locals. It was just instinct. Vulcanus had changed things. Slowly at first, but then with growing direction. The Skrull invasion hadn't covered Imports with any glory. That the tide had turned wasn't surprising. Julian mostly wondered why it had taken so long.
But that didn't mean he accepted it, and it didn't mean he was willing to take that anti-Import attitude when it was right in front of him. He didn't care that locals were scared, or that what they'd during the fighting had horrified them, or that there was truth in the idea that if no Imports were around, things like that just wouldn't happen. As far as he was concerned, everything the Imports had done had been for the good of the whole City. Seeing anti-Import graffiti, hearing of other Imports being intimidated or attacked, made him furious. Ingrates like that weren't worth defending. They reminded him of home. He hated them.
He hadn't gone out looking for trouble. At least not consciously. He may not have gone through the best neighborhoods, but that was incidental. He'd gone out to meet Namora, who he hadn't seen since the Beach a couple weeks ago. He hadn't planned to come across a set of those idiots, spray painting anti-Import stupidity against the side of a building wall. He stopped, staring at them with disgust. He could have walked on by. Maybe that would have been better. He wasn't far from where he'd said he'd meet Namora. But walking away from shitheads like this had never been a strong point of his, and they were asking for it. He took out his comm and left a voice message.
"Namora? I might be late. I ran into some of our fans."
That got the gang's attention. They turned to look at him. He could see they weren't just packing spray paint now. The briefest glance told him they had baseball bats and a couple of those reflective glints might have been evidence of knives. He didn't care about that. He might have been outnumbered, but bats and knives wouldn't do anything against his telekinesis. He was paying attention to the spray paint in their hands. His eyes glowed green and he ripped the can away from them. It was almost empty, which meant the amount of paint splashing over them when his powers crushed it in mid-air wasn't as much as it could have been. But it was enough to send them charging towards him. Gangs like this were the real scum in this City. He'd remind them why they needed to fear Imports.