Issue 1 Downtime

It's early when the protesters arrive. They look like your average, everyday Londoners. Working men, housewives, shop girls, lorry operators, a few college kids, retirees... in fact, the group is a very exact sampling of the working class age demographics in the city.

They set up on the Quad lawn, where the decorations and tables from the party last night have already been swept away. A stack of coolers and a few chairs indicate they plan to be here for a while.

The signs they carry say things like, "Mutants Go Home!" "No Mutants in London!" "X-Teams are X-tremely Dangerous!" "No Vigilantes in Britain!" "Mutants not in God's Plan!"

They are quiet, and simply making a peaceful protest at the moment. But any obvious student or mutant that passes them gets an extremely hostile stare from the group.

Ryan whistled happily as he walked out from the campus, a small machine carried in both hands in front of him. He stopped when he was within yelling distance of the protestors, then set down the machine. He set a timer, then waved happily at the jeering protestors.

The machine was sent to launch photoreceptive balls up into the air, connected to the machine by a reel of thin wire. It would launch, then retract the ball after a set time, registering whether or not Ryan had blasted the ball.

Ryan hoped, positioning the machine between him and the crowd, that this made them extremely nervous as he shot in their general direction at the balls.

Rachel paused as she was walking across the quad, and stood at the edge of the crowd, just observing quietly for the moment.

Ryan smirked as he intentionally blasted early, shooting closer to, but still safely over, the protestors' heads.

The leader of the protesters shouts, "See? This is what we're talking about! Mutants don't know anything but violence!"

Ryan laughed. "What, am I bringing a mob of angry people outside your house to badmouth you while you play ball?" he shouted at the gate.

Rachel walked over to where Ryan was standing and rolled her eyes "I have to keep reminding myself that it'd be a bad thing is they all pissed themselves."

"Wow. If he was that bent on violence...I don't think any of you would be standing," Marcus said as he entered the quad, making his way up and stood beside Ryan.

"Well, interesting way to come across you Ryan."

Madrox came up to the three.

"What's all this then?"

The protesters begin to chant.

"We want mutants out!"

"We want mutants out!"

"We want mutants out!"

"We want mutants out!"

"Save that for when they make some pissy remark about our parents," he told Rachel. "I give him about ten minutes before he gets to that point, if British morons are like American ones. And holy shit, Marcus! When did you get here?"

"Apparently not all of our neighbors like us."

"I half-expect signs saying 'Dr. Who Hates Muties'."

"A few days ago. Rick's here too. It's good to see you." He folded his arms over his chest and looked out into the faces of the crowd. The expression on his face showed anyone he thought the group was filled with stupid assholes.

It is worth noting that not a single one of the signs has an actual racial slur on it, which is pretty unusual for an anti-mutant protest.

"Rick's here? Damn, more friendly faces I missed." He took a shot at another ball, then said in a raised voice, "Of course, this is a familiar sight I could have done without!"

"No kidding and here I thought being in London we'd be treated better." He voice rose a bit at the end of what he said, loud enough for some of the protesters to hear. He sighed. "At least..they're fairly civil about it."

"Too civil..."

"It makes me nervous." Rachel replied, wishing her telepathy was good enough to let her get a feel for the crowd. This large of a group tended to just be so much white noise.

"Well... we could clean up the front gate a bit, but I don't think the staff would like it."

The protesters switch their chant up, simplifying it. They're quite organized, at regular intervals, as some of the protesters get tired they'll sit in the chairs, while others take their place.

"Mu-tants out!"

"Mu-tants out!"

"Mu-tants out!"

"Mu-tants out!"

"Mu-tants out!"

"Yeah. That's really a bad idea. To be honest, I vote we go back inside. We don't really want to instigate something and if something stupid happens, they need to be the ones that have done it first. We can always keep an eye on them from inside."

"It seems overly diversified... almost artificially so."

"Not to mention mechanically organized."

Will comes up, a little surprised by the commotion.

"Wow, so this is what one of these are like. I've only seen them on the TV, really--very rarely get up close and personal with the crazy mobs."

He looks the crowd over.

"They've been practicing their chants."

"Yeah, this looks very well planned." Rachel said, reminding herself once again that killing them all would be a bad thing.

Harold walks outside in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking like he just woke up. "Oh for fucks sake. I thought the Brits were supposed to be prim and proper about this kind of thing."

"Well, they are," Ryan told Harold. "There's no swearing on any of their signs. That's polite compared to America."

Rachel O'Brien wrote:"Yeah, this looks very well planned." Rachel said, reminding herself once again that killing them all would be a bad thing.

"Well, it's not like the university is a SURPRISE, or anything. It was in all the papers. They've had plenty of time to organize.

I was just expecting more rabble, less rehearsal."

"True. I don't see a single sign calling us 'muties' or 'genejokes'...."

"True. William's got a good point. If they felt that strongly against it, you would of thought the citizens here wouldn't of let it get this far."

Maddie just watched the crowd, examining it as if a crime scene photo.

"Well yeah, but we do have the usual garbage about being against God's will and all that." He examined the group outside the gates. "Hey, Madrox, you see any of them holding rocks? I feel like flying."

Harold reaches out telepathiclly, trying to pinpoint a leader.

Victoria walked up to the assembled group, frowning as she examined the group, studying their signs, reactions, and what they were saying.

It is easy to pinpoint the leader, either by observation or telepathy. A steel haired man with a gray coat and a flat cap of the same color has not done much actual protesting, rather he's moving people about, and organizing the chants and breaks.

"Over there." Rachel said "The old guy in the gray coat. He's in charge."

Harold points out the man in grey. "Anyone know who that guy is?"

"I knew studying this area's demographics would come in handy."

"I don't think this is a real protest. This is probably a misdirection for something."

"I've got his image in memory now."

"There is something very fucking wrong here."

He looked at the leader and just shook his head. "Nah..no clue."

What Madrox says catches him off guard, "What do you mean? Misdirection? To hide something else..? We did just get here. What makes them think we'd be off missions and stuff just yet."

Let alone this is far too peaceful to really make any of us worry that much.