capeandcowllogs | Got him a penthouse view from the tip-top of the food chain, boys

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Got him a penthouse view from the tip-top of the food chain, boys

WHO: Anyone who cares to join in!
WHERE: Near Union Square.
WHEN: During the day on Saturday, March 30th, and Sunday, March 31st.
WARNINGS: Nothing too terrible, though there may be minor violence in some threads.
SUMMARY: An imPort-themed street fair is held; a protest takes place next to it; shenanigans probably occur.
FORMAT: Tagger's choice.

Street fairs are an ordinary thing on the weekends in the City. A block will be closed off to traffic: merchants selling jewelry and knick-knacks and scarves and rugs set up their stalls, and vendors hawk cotton candy and funnel cake. Organizations wave passersby over to hand out pamphlets. That's a pretty typical thing. So in some ways, the spectacle now taking up a City block not far from Union Square is a perfectly normal sight.

In some ways.

But this is no ordinary street fair. The food vendors don't sell ordinary hot dogs; they sell "hero dogs," with buns shaped like capes. All the art being sold at various stalls has a theme based around the exploits of imPorts--unless it's actually sold by an imPort. That's also a possibility, here. The more theatrically-inclined among the imPort population can be seen now and again over the weekend putting on shows of their own on small stages about the street, or maybe simply greeting fans. A few booths are manned by imPorts themselves and offer pamphlets and fliers explaining various imPort-focused organizations. All in all, it's a nice little festival, and surely nothing at all will go wrong.

Well, except for the fact that on the next street over, a protest is going on. The rising anti-imPort group 4532 lines the streets in numbers at least enough to make a scene. Some peacefully hold up signs; others lean a little too close to the tape closing off the street for the fair and heckle the crowds. As the weekend wears on, there may well be some violence here. But with people like this around, someone should be able to break it up, right?

[ OOC: The information on this mini-plot can be found here. Please mingle in comments! If appropriate, feel free to have your character be in charge of a booth, putting on a show, or helping out in some way. ]

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Mordin has shown up to the fair to promote the services and research being offered at the ImPort Clinic. For someone who spends so much time working alone in a lab, it turns out that Mordin is pretty good at doing public relations and advertising- part of being a Professor who used to educate large groups. Mordin understands that it's largely about showmanship. Case in point: he is currently standing on top of a stall counter, singing his heart out about biology.

Glycine, valine, leucine, isoleucine, alanine,
they all are aliphatic, so you will not see a ring!
The lone human amino acid with one is proline.
From Protein we are formed!

There's a smattering of applause for the amazing singing Salarian, who bows and takes a moment to expound on how well-qualified the Clinic staff are in all things protein-related before launching into the next verse.

Xanatos had spent most of the afternoon browsing the fair, making sure to pay particular attention to the Xanatos Enterprises table and occasionally bossing around the interns that he had recruited to man the thing. Hot dog in his hand, he walked over to the stall where the Clinic was, and listened to Mordin singing for a few moments.

"You've got a flair for showbiz," Xanatos said, walking up to the Salarian as the crowd dispersed slightly. More importantly for Xanatos, he wasn't human. He wanted to find out just what exactly Mordin was.

Mordin greets the new fan with a friendly smile, ignorant of his peril. "Handy talent for an educator. Sometimes got invitations to appear on talk shows, or address children's classrooms. Also pleasing from a personal development standpoint: music, arts, culture. Enjoyable."

He drops down off the stage, done pitching the Clinic for the moment, and gives a nod. "Professor Mordin Solus, current Clinic administrator. Pleased to meet you."

Current clinic administrator. So that meant this man fell more on the science side of the magic and science divide. It was a bit of a shame, but still interesting-and potentially helpful.

"David Xanatos, head of Xanatos Enterprises. It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor." Xanatos offers his hand for Mordin to shake, smiling at the man still.

The Salarian takes the human's hand in his three-fingered one. "Hello, David. Heard of your company. Defense research, correct?"

Mordin has a healthy appreciation for weaponry, but also a healthy skepticism about the effects of ImPort technology and expertise being introduced to 21st century human arms markets. He's already curious to find out more about Xanatos' business and whether it's the sort of thing he'll end up sniffing at or buying stock in.

"That's correct. I've been thinking of expanding a bit, though." He shrugs slightly, watching Mordin. He was not going to talk about offensive weaponry with someone who worked at the Clinic. It would just end up badly.

"I hope you don't find this question rude, but what exactly are you?" His tone was one of curiosity and awe-there wasn't any sign that he was afraid of Mordin or found his Salarian self disgusting.

"Not at all. Enjoy talking about xenoscience, including own identity." Mordin in fact is smiling broadly at the opportunity. "Salarian, sentient species of warm-blooded amphibians from planet Sur'kesh in the Pranas System. From 22nd century, according to dominant human calendar system. Participant in galactic government alongside humanity in that era."

As Mordin talked, Xanatos listened with rapt attention. He admitted that he didn't know half of what Mordin was talking about. Still, he was interested, so Xanatos was as well.

"Well, the 22nd century. That explains why I've never heard of Sur'kesh," Xanatos responded, with a slight shrug. "I'm only from the 1990s."

"Might not exist in your dimension," Mordin says. "Significant deviations between worlds, extending to shape of the Galaxy. Almost certain Salarians not present in this dimension." He looks a little sad about that.

"Porter only source of non-human contact on this Earth. Miss galactic interspecies community sometimes. Diversity, vibrancy, visiting different worlds."

"I know the feeling," Xanatos admitted, with a shake of his head. "The community I miss was more magical than interstellar, but it was a community nonetheless."

"Magical community?" That gets Mordin's attention even moreso than it was held before. "What kind of experience do you have? Didn't have any contact with supernatural prior to ImPorting. Still learning more about it."

"I don't do much magic myself," Xanatos admitted, shrugging slightly. "The outcomes tend to...well, not turn out well." The Wild Hunt had definitely put him off of trying magic himself. "As for experiences, my world is divided up into three different races: humans, gargoyles, and Oberon's children. I've had experience with all three."

"Familiar with two of those." Mordin's perpetually-extensive reading counts for something, at least. "Humans the dominant life-form on Earth, gargoyles mythological winged humanoids. Haven't heard of 'Oberon's children' though. What are they?'

"It's a catch-all term for anything magical. The fair folk, gryphons, golems, things like that." Xanatos made a wide gesture with his hand, as if to illustrate the wide range of creatures in the term. "I've come to understand that it's a term unique to my world."

"Seems imprecise." Mordin sniffs a bit. "Extremely broad classification for extremely varied group. Would rather have subdivisions, personally." He smiles. "Then again, reasons for not being a mythological expert."

"Well, in my defense, I've only met a few of them," Xanatos said, with a shrug. "I'm sure that Oberon's children themself can explain it better than me."

After he's done performing and promoting for the moment, Mordin heads over to where the 4532 are picketing to indulge in one of his non-musical passions: rapid-fire intellectual debate.

"No, no, no. ImPort presence causative, not culpable." Mordin gestures as he talks, animated, consciously drawing an audience to himself from both sides of the lines. "Freely admit Porter's operation a destabilizing influence on this world, but ImPorts must be held responsible for own choices. Most choose to live in peace!"

"ImPorts are the only ones that can restrain the most violent members of their community, though!" The speaker is a gray-haired, well-dressed man with a sign saying 'REMEMBER THE DEAD.' He has to raise his voice to be heard over the surrounding tumult, but otherwise seems quite calm. "Ordinary people have no defense against superpowers. We all have to depend on ImPorts to protect us from ImPorts. That means even peaceful ImPorts have to take some responsibility for the damage done by the dangerous ones!"

Mordin points at him. "Assert that responsibility already taken! Can cite multiple statements by City Hall, charitable benefits held by ImPort community, hard work and sacrifices by volunteers and heroes! Furthermore..."

Despite how tense the atmosphere is, it's clear that Mordin is having an enormous amount of fun. The Professor hasn't had the chance to get into a good philosophical tangle in a long time.

It's a bit surprising to her that anyone's thought of putting this together. As an ImPort herself, but certainly no superhero, she doesn't stand out much from the rest of the civilian's milling through. She's mostly there to sample the wares on offer and to watch the performances other ImPorts have put on. Whenever and wherever she is to be found, she's most likely to be found with something edible in hand, thoughtfully munching away as she looks at what's available and speaks with the Cityzens running the fair, listening to what they have to say. The outside perspective on ImPorts is insightful, to say the least: it's one thing to know, intellectually, the impact they have, and another to actually hear about it.

The presence of 4532 is hard to miss, but unless actual violence breaks out, the most she'll do for the moment is listen to their protests, and coax the few that look like they might actually start throwing things to back down. Surprisingly enough, some of them actually listen, though that may be less because they're convinced than they're confused by a young woman earnestly offering them a taste of some of the food the street stalls have to offer.

[Once the latest batch of possible converts to open-mindedness have left, a man who's been quietly watching from a few paces away speaks up.]

Kill 'em with kindness, eh? I like it. That was well handled.

[After some consideration, Peter had decided to show up to the fair in his civvies. He was wearing his costume underneath, as always, but he wanted to give the protestors the benefit of the doubt, and not risk goading them with a Spider-Man appearance. He almost spoke up -- as Peter Parker -- the first time one of the 4532 accosted the young woman, but clearly she had things well in hand. Maybe a bit unconventionally, but he was hardly one to talk.]

[ She wasn't aware of being observed -- or perhaps, more accurately, she was aware of it but didn't think to take note of it. People tend to think Yako Katsuragi is odd for any number of reasons, and she's gotten used to catching attention one way or another.

The remark seemed positive enough, if wholly unexpected, and she gave Peter a sheepish smile. ]

There's no reason you can't have a good conversation with someone just because you don't see eye to eye on some things, right? [ She glances at the rest of the protesters. ] I don't think most of these people are looking for trouble. They just want their voices to be heard.

Yeah. It's hard to blame them for not getting it, honestly -- even back home people got scared sometimes, and we've have superheroes there for decades.

So long as they're not rioting, or hurting people, anyway... [He shakes his head. He remembers the War of Four Walls.]

I'm Peter, by the way. [He sticks out a hand.]

I'm Yako. Nice to meet you. [ She takes his hand without hesitation, giving it a firm shake before letting go. ]

Your world had superheroes? [ It's not an uncommon story, of course, but if there was any doubt he was an ImPort, it's gone now. Curiosity's easy enough to read on her features, though after a moment's consideration, she decides it's probably best if they start moving away from the gathered crowd. Talking about that superheroes probably isn't a good idea around people who are protesting against them. ]

I never met any myself, until I got here.

[Peter gets the general idea and walks with her, back towards the friendlier atmosphere of the fair proper.]

Yeah, I know a lot of imPorts come from quieter places. Or if not quieter -- [a rueful smile] -- less spandexy.

[ That gets him a soft laugh, though she notices the ruefulness in his expression. ]

I wouldn't say it was quieter back home, but there were fewer people in costumes. The Porter doesn't seem to care about the kind of world you come from.

[ She glances out over the fair, like she's trying to decide what attraction she wants to check out next, then nods at him. ]

Have you had the chance to see everything yet?

Well, with one exception -- I don't think I've met anyone who comes from a universe quite as, well, normal as this place used to be. But I take your point.

[He sweeps a hand in front of him, inviting her to take the lead.] I just got here a few minutes ago, so if you have any suggestions...

I suppose she thought people from ordinary worlds wouldn't make great heroes. [ Kidding, though. She's not planning to be a hero anytime soon, no matter what Lachesis claims to want to turn them into.

She hums thoughtfully under her breath as she steps forward. ]

I've only really looked at the food-- [ And she seems a trifle embarrassed, at that, though she recovers her composure quickly. ] So I don't have much of a better idea than you do.

Well, how about -- [He closes his eyes, spins in a circle, and stabs the air at random. Then he opens his eyes to see what he's picked--] the import-themed trash sculptures? Those look, uh. Interesting. [He glances back in her direction, raising a brow -- it's hard to tell if he's daring her or expressing his sheepishness.]

[ She has to cover her mouth to stifle a grin, but the amusement is clearly visible anyway. ]

Best one out of three, maybe? [ Despite the light joke, she's already stepping forward along towards the the stall in question. ]

Although I'm not sure if I'd be any good at recognizing who they're supposed to be. I've never heard of any of the superheroes here.

[Shark finds himself mingling in with the street fair, uncomfortable in the crowd but not nearly as much as he would have been a few weeks ago. The little fair is busy but not packed and most people seemed to know their boundaries - probably something to do with the high imPort concentration in the event.

He steals glances over to the protest when he can, sour expression showing exactly how he feels about these people's ideas.

It wasn't like he wanted to be here at all.

He clutches onto the little pendant that had been an impulse buy - a delicately-carved metal sea bird on a piece of twine - and leans up against a wall nearby.]

[Shark isn't going to be against that wall for long, because Astral's walking right up to him.] Hello, Shark.

Astral.

[Indeed. He kicks off a bit from the wall, straightening and placing the necklace into his pocket.]

What are you here for?

[It's not said rudely for once.]

[What did he put into his pocket?]

There's food. [Beam..ing... shut up, you know he loves food.] And it's nice. [outside the protestors, but he's doing a fine job ignoring them.]

Why are you here, Shark?

[Shark just kind of nods in acknowledgement of Astral's response, partially distracted by a spike of noise from the closest band of protestors.

Oh return question.]

I'd seen flyers for this during the week. I just figured I'd come and have a look.

[It actually reminds him of home a bit, but he'd never say that.]

It's nice, isn't it? It almost looks like Heartland. [there's a distinct lack of roller coasters, though.]

[Squints.]

There's a lot less people, but I see what you mean.

[Shark gets a fey-like smile in return.] There are a few booths I have yet to see.

Sanji hadn't much cared one way or the other when the offer to host a booth for his culinary prowess had been floated his way, by one of his old kitchen staff from All That Jazz who was now sous chef at a ritzy downtown restaurant. He wasn't much for showing off, and there wasn't much chance that the money made at the booth was going to go to him at all. But eventually he found himself talked into it, to alleviate boredom if nothing else. So, there he was, sleeves rolled up and an apron protecting his dress clothes, holding court at the side of a hibachi grill where anyone stopping by to sample the food could watch him cook and marvel at his speed and skill. The sous chef handled the customer service for him, leaving Sanji both hands with which to cook and plenty of breath to lavish attention on customers - particularly the ladies.

Anyone who stopped by could chat with him and bother him, and if his name wasn't enough of a draw (since, even he had to admit it had been a long time since any of the locals had tasted his cooking or knew of him as 'somebody'), the aroma of the grilled meats and vegetables certainly was.

[ Madoka herself isn't what anyone might call a hero, but she does have an interest in this new home of her's. That's why she's out here this weekend not to actively participate in anything herself, but to gain a better understanding of what is happening here. She'll flutter from booth to booth, too shy to speak and much too reluctant to actually engage in anything with another person.

For those who are persistent though, they may be rewarded with getting her to talk.

When she's not busy stalking the booths from a respectable distance, she's plucking away at cotton candy the same color as her hair or admiring some of the art with the curiosity a girl her age emanates. ]

[ Completely unaware of any other holidays this weekend (or else she might have bullied a friend or two into celebrating them with her), Rin spends her time out at this street fair. It's unlike her to be around so many people, but with no weird physical quirks, it's easy for her to slip into the crowd of normal civilians without a second glance.

Here she mingles not with other imPorts, but with the general populace instead. Maybe if she can speak with the more, she can gain a better understanding of the situation.

Some do happen to recognize her though as that one who was naked once, and when that happens? Someone has to pull her away from trying to kill them. Not literally, but she's shouting the threats all the same. How damaging to her already fragile reputation... ]

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Got him a penthouse view from the tip-top of the food chain, boys

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Open 2: the Opening

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OPEN!

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