1963-11-22 - Dallas, Room 1
Summary: The heroes of Act-F join the President just before tragedy strikes. In the middle of chaos, one has the presence of mind to change the course of history. But will it be enough?
Related: Dallas: Side Stories, Dallas: Dealey Plaza, Dallas: East Coast
Theme Song: None
sue jennifer heather johnny tchalla steve 

Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free. — Jim Morrison


The last box is plucked from the moving van and Steve Rogers turns to peer up towards the pinnacle of the Baxter Building. Didn't we just leave this party? Squalor and an assassination attempt have had a funny way of bringing the good Captain full circle. Especially after the latter, circumstance has a funny way of providing some perspective on what is truly important. Everyone values security for themselves and the person they love.

"Captain Rogers!" says a man in a blue bell hop's outfit. But under the cap are a pair of thick glasses that seem to be propped up almost entirely by his thick white mustache. "I had no idea that you were moving in. Anything I can do to help?" Willie Lumpkin is always the kind of guy who will lend a hand, afterall.

"No, Mr. Lumpkin," Steve says with a grin. "This is the last box. I've got to get the television set up so I can watch the Presidential address."

"What do you think he's going to say?" the elder man asks tilting his head.

"Not really sure," Steve admits. "That's a tough speech to write. Mutants, Aliens, Asgardians. Think I'd rather be anyone else than him tonight."


It seats nearly 10,000 a this point and was specifically the reason it was chosen. Just over a year ago President Kennedy had come to Texas and gave his speech about going to the moon. In it he talked about America's big dreams in one of its biggest states.

Skeptics have noted he spends so much time in Texas because it is vital to his re-election campaign. Without Texas this election, the Democrats are likely to lose. Supporters would say that here, in the middle of the country, the President's voice can be heard easiest by everyone, far away from the polish of Washington and the elites, to a place that speaks to what he sees as the future of America.

Either way, the MC has been giving updates. The President's plane has landed. The President is en route. The President has arrived. Momentarily there's a cheer from the crowd as there is some stirring behind the curtain, but rather than the Massachusetts born Navy Man, a parade of Act-F enrollees come out to stand on the bleachers behind where the President is about to give his address.


She is not a citizen of the United States. Indeed, she has diplomatic immunity as the reigning sovereign of another country. But the Black Panther steps out and walks along the bleachers to find a spot to stand, enshrouded by her mask, her claw necklace and fur ruff on proud display. She is here because what this stands for is greater than even Wakanda's self-imposed isolation from the world. There is a threat to all of the world from aliens from beyond that world, and she has chosen to stand with them.

The taking orders part, maybe not so much. But time will tell how this all works out.

T'Challa finds her place and stops, turning towards the crowd, watching the sea of faces out there in the auditorium. She would rather see more of African descent. But they are not entirely absent, like they would be in so many such events in this nation's past. It is an improvement. And now it's time to see how this all goes.


With hair drawn into a tight ponytail, Sue Storm steps to her place along the bleachers doing everything she can to focus on the task at hand. Her eyes train forward, honing in on one random spot in the crowd. A tug is given to her red and white dress, and absently, her fingers reach up to check her hair to ensure all of it remains securely out of her face.

Her hands drop to her sides and she casts a side-glance towards Johnny standing next to her. Her lips curve into a relatively easy smile. "Life changes quickly," she murmurs softly. "Can you imagine what our parents would say about this?" her cheeks hue a soft pink; it's an unusual sight, but there's something innately humbling about the situation.


"The scope of this is…" Heather looks around them. "The security issues just for this one area alone are incredible." She keeps close to Sue and Johnny. This is far from home for her as well. Even large gatherings in Ottawa and Toronto didn't come close to this. Fortunately for her, she all but blends into the sea of official-looking sorts around her.


Protocol for business such as this is Jennifer Walters' specialty. You can bet your grandmother's heirloom jewelry she spent a good portion of time thumbing through all the booklets, pamphlets, and paperwork she could find atop talking to staff until all the finer details are sorted out. Now she emerges with a certain crispness and assurance to her stride, as though this is yet another courtroom and she is an attorney prepped to the gills to handle whatever odd business might come to pass. Of all the potential ACT-F recruits, she might be among the least impressive, hair pulled back into a severe bun, glasses, neither famous or tall or radiating charisma. All that can change when the bombshell steps out, but for the moment, her attention pans over the massed Texans come to pay their fond regards to the president and his wife. She gives a bit of a look towards a familiar shape nearby, and there a wider smile grows for the Black Panther. "Now I rather wish I had brought the green headdress," she asides, between the Wakandan monarch and the Storms.


Standing between Sue and Heather is Johnny Storm, and where his sister is wearing a red and white dress, he is wearing a well-tailored suit in a deep blue. Hands clasped loosely behind his back, he grins sidelong at his sister, one eyebrow raising slightly. "Nooo. But I'll ask Aunt Margay when we get out to see her, I'm sure she'll give us both an earful."


FROST INSTITUTE: Some punk kid gives an upwards nod to Lorna, "Hey, watchya watchin?" Mutants are supposed to care about this sort of thing by design, but too many don't. Including this guy. "Is this that President thing? That's stupid." Pshaw.


Inside the lounge of the Xavier Institute, Scott Summers is sitting in an oversized chair with a large back to it. Like most students at the school, he cares a lot about politics, especially mutant rights issues. Unlike most students he knows, he watches anything and everything he considers to be close to newsworthy. A speech outlining a new multi-national effort to protect Americans at home

He sits, as he has for the past 12 minutes, with his head propped by his thumb, braced by his arm, which digs into the rest at his right. His mouth never moves, his face never changes, and his glasses are always affixed to the television set as he waits, hoping that this President puts his effort where his mouth has always been. If he is for equality, he needs to show it fully now. But finally, Violet's commentary gets him to speak. "Can you please blow the smoke outside the window?"

Up on the stage, the lights shine down on the Black Panther, Johnny, Sue, Heather, Jennifer, and many others. Some with large followings, others with not so much. These seem to be the future of superheroing, defending America and the World from invasions. At least that's what the MC mentions every so often as we wait for the President

A plump woman sits next to Alex in one of the seats. She's wearing red white and blue sunglasses, waving a little American flag, and has a hat with a donkey on it. "I just love that President," she says to Alex with a big Texas smile. "He even wants to give the rights to those muties. I think we're ready for it, don't you?"

One of the people who runs the convention center approaches the reporter from W-ILD. "Anything we can get you? Ice water? Fans?" If the event looks good on TV, Dallas looks good. If Dallas looks good, then more people come to the convention center. Profit.

A member of the President's armed guard brushes by Meredith and gives her an all-too knowing nod. She's obviously been briefed on the plan.

Dealey Plaza is already filled with people. Nearly twice as many people as inside the auditorium, in truth. The parade route goes through a sharp turn and then down a hill, past a grassy knoll, shrouded by large buildings such as the Book Depository building.

That being said, from where Domino is it doesn't seem all that particularly crowded.

One this is for sure, Xavier, Erik, and Crystal will all find Texas to be rather hot compared to New York. As Xavier makes sweeps with his mind, nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary. Many people are talking about the weather in their minds, hoping that this won't last long, and wondering whether they should just leave and tell people they were here to see the President. Who would know?



A raucous crowd gives thunderous applause as the President emerges from behind the blue curtain with his arm outstretched in a high wave. He pauses a moment on his way to the podium to continue waving to his supporters, before he finally steps up to the microphone.

"Governor Connally, Senator Yarborough, Mayor Cabelle, and distinguished guests. Thank you for that welcome. It has been over a year since I have been to the great State of Texas, home of ingenuity, of freedom and independence, and above all else — in a moment where we so badly need it — a land of bravery.

"We are beset by all sides by those who would want us to wallow in the misery of fear, who push for us to act brazenly either as a show of strength or a reflexive action of cowardice, and by sinister forces, that we should continue to separate ourselves on divisions of genetics.

"I would attest to you, that while we do live in new and strange times, times full of the unknown and full of apprehension, that the United States has found higher and higher challenges over the course of its nearly two centuries and has conquered them all. Each generation, our maker tests us in ways we have never expected, and each time, American ingenuity and bravery have seen us through. Whether the threat of Nationalism, Communism, Invasion from without and within, or even the threat of Nuclear Holocaust comes upon us, our nation has shown an unalienable ability to see through fear and persevere.

"Behind me, the men and women recruited thus far for the Act-F Task Force come from a multitude of races and creeds, faiths and moral upbringings, and economic backgrounds. Mutants and non. Blacks and non. Christians and non. One group, united with other similar forces of the world to defend our planet from forces who would seek to mark you with fear.

"To those watching from somewhere far among the stars: It is our assumption you come in good faith. We are open to communicating with you, sharing information, and finding ways that we may both benefit from a relationship of peace.

"America's people have every right to be proud of the land they live in and the world they would like to see, just as other citizens of other nations feel about their lands. Our world takes a back seat to no others.

"May God Bless America and the rest of Planet Earth."

The President steps back from the podium and gives a nod and a wave to the crowd before he makes his way off the stage, shuffled into his car to get ready for the parade on Dealey Plaza.


T'Challa nods her masked head towards Jennifer, acknowledging her comment. "Just as good as you are, Counselor." she comments in that altered voice, softly but clearly enunciated. Otherwise, she stands and she watches. She listens. And she is on display. Good thing she's not shy. "Should we follow him?" she inquires, as the President gets ready to depart.


Heather wins an easy smile, "The turnout though is telling, I think. People have hope. The promise of something bigger." And then back towards Johnny, she mutters: "Doesn't Aunt Margay always?" She arches a wry eyebrow. "I'm fairly certain aunt's are built for giving their charges earfuls." And then with a small grin she sees fit to add, "And uncles. So I've been told."

Her lips purse and she assumes her silence as the President speaks. The speech finishes, and her eyes scan her cohorts. Even at T'Challa's question, she's cast a gracious smile, and a drop of Sue's chin into a vague nod. Doctor Storm trails off the bleachers with the others, treading towards the vehicles as her hands clasp lightly behind her back.


Heather follows slowly, watching the crowd around them. The announcement of the task force was met with a certain amount of murmuring. With luck, the alien threat would serve to soothe some of the civil rights tensions among those native to Earth. She's not terribly interested in those immediately about her. Her companions have all been thoroughly security vetted. It's everyone else who has information to impart.

"I believe that's a bit optimistic, the part about assuming those out there are coming in peace," she murmurs to Sue. "I fear that won't do much to calm the fears of those who feel powerless, even if I hope it's true."


Presidential speeches are American as apple pie, bunting, and gerrymandered districts. Jennifer stands at attention, drinking in every word, anticipating the meaning behind President Kennedy's speech. No one will see her slouching on the job, her keen gaze narrowed in concentration so she misses nothing said. However, she does not watch the Bay Stater's pride and joy. Those fine Texans assembled before him and the ring of cameras capturing every detail on the stage, right up until the applause and the conclusion of his address. Being somewhat average height might be a disadvantage against her taller peers, but not by much. She breaks into a purposeful stride along with the others, choosing to keep pace with T'Challa on one wing and the parade of Storms-and-company on the other.


"We could use a little more optimism in the world, I say." That's Johnny Storm's hot take, and you may quote him on it. He moves along with the small crowd departing the bleachers to fall in with the motorcade as planned, keeping half an eye out on their surroundings. It's habit more than anything else, but given how riotous New York has been lately — sometimes literally — the smaller buildings out here in Dallas leave him feeling oddly exposed.



"Lorna, come on. Let's shut this off and go drinking," the nameless guy persists. "You don't really care about this stuff, man, it's boring."


"They're just words," Scott says, still barely moving. He's thankful for Violet moving and pointing the smoke outside, but he does seem rather grumpy all the same. "We've heard the words by the Supreme Court and still Black people don't always get to vote. We've heard the words by all sorts of these men in the past, and actions are always limited."

The party donor turns his head towards Meredith, looking perplexed. "What the hell is a Boltagon?" he says with upraised eyebrows. But, noticing her beauty, he is quick to put his arm around her and begins to whisper in her ear, eager to show her how they do things here in Texas.

But, before he can get to far, one of the security team nods to Meredith, and begins to show her to her 'other' car.

"Well, I'm sure he wants to give them a full vote!" the lady says to Alex, her smile growin' bigger.

"The world is changing!" She hands Alex a pamphlet that informs him how to donate to the Democratic National Committee.

"Right on it, Miss," says the convention host. He shuffles away to get some fans.

Surprisingly, right in front of them and some other television crews, the President walks by.

"Mr. President! What do you have to say to Loki, Prince of Asgard?"

"I'd ask how Asgard is this time of year."

"What do you say about him trying to force tolerance on our country."

"I'd say it's convenient he comes now, but not as convenient as it would have been for all those Jews during the Second World War. We could have used his intervention then," Kennedy's reply is said with a smile and a wave, and one of his handlers informs the television crews that he will be taking no more questions.

When the President exits the stage, one of his handlers approaches the assorted members of Act-F, "Alright everyone, we have several motorcades that will travel behind the President. For those of you who like being in the spotlight, there will be about a million cameras on you, so we would love it if you smiled and waved. Do whatever comes natural, of course." The motion towards the curtain which leads to a garage where several convertibles wait to take the heroes along the parade route. There are covered cars, too, for those who hate the limelight.

As Domino plots and charts, there's a tugging at Charles' mind. Inside the Book Depository, a man by the name of Lee Harvey Oswald is angry. He's spent a couple of years in the USSR and is a devout Communist. He hates Kennedy for his attacks on Communism. He hates all politicians, really, and has even gone so far as to promote his ideals to people when he lived in New Orleans. Oswald decides he cannot bear to watch and heads to the breakroom at his work to get a coca-cola. When he gets there, he turns off the radio, which is playing analysis about the speech.

"Course he is!" someone yells as they overhear Crystal's question to Xavier. "Come on Howard, we can get closer to see the President and all those heroes as they come by!" The family of four moves on closer to the street.

A short time later, the President, flanked by Jackie Kennedy, sits in a car with Governor Connally as they make their way down the parade route. With the breeze, Jackie remarks that it's much more lovely, and John is busy waving to the throngs of people who have come out to enjoy the speech.


"Buncha shit if you ask me," says one of the patrons to Remy LeBeau.

"Eh, give de guy a chance, non?" he lies. He's not interested in believing anything the government says, but being too loud in a place like this where the walls have ears is always dangerous.

"He fuckin' better do something!" yells another. "Mutants ain't gonna take much more of this shit!"


Black Panther follows as directed, helping Jennifer - with shorter legs and low heels - to keep up as they make their way to the vehicles. Panther is only too happy to take one of the open vehicles, rather than being contained. She's masked, and only too willing to allow herself to be photographed, stared at, etc. She is T'Challa, Queen of Wakanda. Let all look on in awe. Or something. "I have never been a follower in a motorcade before. This will be new."


A smile tugs at Sue's lips at the mention of the spotlight while she casts a sidelong glance towards her cohorts. "Well, I think you've heard your calling, Baby Brother. Someone calling for you to be in the spotlight." She reaches towards Heather to link arms, "Come. We'll enjoy some sunlight, smile for the cameras~ Besides, why waste the sunlight? It's a beautiful day."

Regardless, the lady Storm treads to one of the convertibles, and grants one of the handlers a broad grin, "Don't worry, we'll make you folks look good." Her smile brightens as she slides into the car. The crowd (and cameras) are given a bright grin and sweeping wave. Over the years she's learned to perform for the cameras.


Heather is in no hurry to take a place in the sun. She keeps to the side, amongst the others in their grey suits and sunglasses. She may be shorter and slighter than the other silent, nameless agents but she is still competent and it shows in her brisk pace and alert posture. Now, she also wants to keep an eye on Sue and Johnny. She has her reasons.


Does looking photo-friendly count being green? Jen waits for the handler to wander off, and then shoots a look at the resident expert. "Ma'am," it's the proper honorific surely other than 'Panther' or 'Your Majesty, sorry I'm destroying your cover', "any recommendations on how to manage this? Meet the eye of the camera and give them nothing to fear, pretend absolutely is happening, or shall we act to the part? I am tempted to treat this as yet another performance for the bar." A light wave will follow her, but she steps into the vehicle and barely makes a dent in the seat. Smoothing out her skirt reveals, there, a flash of the form-fitted shorts underneath just in case. "You can make them all look over their shoulder. I have every faith in your ability to school these fine people on how regal someone can be, whether at the head of the line or the back." With a poker face of terrifying aplomb, she smiles for the gathered crowds on the sidewalk and waves her hand in a friendly smile. It's like being waved at by a geeky librarian, complete with freckles, and a secret little Spider-Man button pinned to the cuff of her suit.


<Ohhh, is that my calling?> Johnny innocently asks Sue in Korean, an amused smile on his face as he trails along to the convertible with her. He offers Sue a hand into the vehicle, then climbs on up to join her. "I know I'm pretty, Seo, but I'm not President Kennedy," he notes in a teasing voice, leaning over to bump her with his shoulder. "The spotlight isn't mine today by a long shot."

Johnny aims a curious look towards Heather, trying not to look amused. Well, if she wants to walk, he supposes.



"Fine, suit yourself," the kid says. No one seems to know his name. However this jock itch idiot ever got into this school is anyone's guess. Luckily for Lor


Scott nearly recoils at being called Mr. Summers.

"Mr. Summers is my brother," The comment at least does enough to make the kid chuckle for the first time today. "I'd have him do more than promise to protect blacks in schools in the south. I'd have him act quicker on these mutant riots."

Yeah, he's a zealot.

"Wait, what's happening?"

A young girl with a large lolli and two pig tails watches the interchange between Spiral and the Reporter with surprise. "Mommy? I don't think I want to be a reporter anymore."

"Yeah, Meredith," says the Presidential security team member, "The President really hates it when you get philosophical.

"Honey, you need a ride to the parade?" the frumpy woman says to Alex. "Darlin' I'm a local, I know a shortcut. Follow me." She leads the older Summers brother on a weaving way to a side exit where her car is parked. "Get in!"

But as the pair are about to get into the car, shots begin to ring out.


The motorcade follows the President, bringing Black Panther, Sue, Heather, and Johnny as Jennifer is walking alongside. It seems the government (the State of Texas, in this case) has spared no expense. It's an extended limousine with a pulled top. On the inside, the leather is white and nearly perfect. It really makes Black Panther's outfit stick out, and the blue of Johnny and Sue's pop. Speaking of popping…

Domino will see the first car, filled with the Governor of Texas, his wife, the President, and his wife. In the next car are a group of Act-F superheroes.

As Charles hones in on Oswald, he can see the young man sitting in the break room, arms over his chest, stewing. Everyone here so excited for a man who suppresses true economic freedom. It's bullshit. The entire system is bullshit, and Oswald cannot believe it's happening. Inwardly, he decides to go see a movie.

Erik and Crystal can now see the car turning down Dealey Plaza and picking up speed as it makes its way down the hill towards the Grassy Knoll, the bend, and towards the end of the parade.

Several people around them flinch as three bullets sound out from somewhere. With the angles of the buildings, it sounds as if the shots are coming from everywhere and from all different angles!



That sound isn't an exact match for the gunfire from a small handgun in an enclosed large space like the lobby of Stark Industries, but it's close enough. Even one such pop to T'Challa's herb-enhanced senses is enough to have her sweeping into action, standing despite the rolling vehicle, head pivoting. But she does not wait. "Cover the President!" she shouts in that altered voice, and she compresses her legs and leaps with all her might towards the president, his wife and the governor, trying to reach them, to cover them with her vibranium-mesh-covered body as her instincts say those shots are going to seek out the most important and most vulnerable people present. She may be wrong, but her instincts have been trained amongst her own bodyguards.


The sound of bullets sparks reaction. Sue, on a burst of psionic energy floats out of the vehicle and speeds through the air atop it. Her hands extend in front of her and the large bubble of mentally-created energy extends around her. The aim, it's burst, and the distance mean that she needs to find focus amongst the crowd despite the possibility otherwise. The texture of the forcefield, it's solidity, and its expansiveness are all contingent on one thing: focus.


Heather ducks instinctively, one of the other agents near her shelters her. She shrugs him off a moment later and begins pushing through the crowd, back in the direction of the shot.


A young woman gunned down in the street in cold blood knows the sound of high-calibre ammunition anywhere. It wasn't but a few weeks ago she witnessed a hunting rifle's effect in Harlem. Fine-tuned reflexes matched to a hell of an adrenaline surge make a volatile reaction, one visible briefly to TChalla when Jennifer looks at — no, past — her with irradiated green eyes behind severe black glasses that slip down the bridge of her jade-tinged nose. In the space of a very short time indeed, the attorney more resembles a verdigris statue of Justice in a smart black suit. Her bun is already tumbling out into a mane of wild, forest-dark curls, a streamer behind her as she leaps with almost callous ease to ACT-F's marks to remove them from harm's imminent way. President and First Lady are the target; Governor Connally and Nellie Connally come a rather distant second.


Well of course the President is the target. Who else is present? Just a whole bunch of openly powered individuals, many of whom are not white.

Aish. Johnny's on his feet in the back of the car almost before Sue's instincts carry her up and out, his head whipping around as he tries to figure out where the shots are coming from. "Can't see anything down here," he mutters to himself, before he shoots a look at the nearest agent. "I'll tell you if I see anything!"

With that, Johnny leaps from the back of the car, and with a shout of "FLAME ON!" he erupts into flame and surges up into the sky. He needs a better vantage point from which to seek the shooter. Or shooters.


ROLL: Johnny +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 96


ROLL: Sue +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 36


ROLL: TChalla +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 31


ROLL: Jennifer +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 39


At both the Frost Academy and the Xavier Institute, it's tough to see what is happening. The news cuts away, revealing a man in a rumpled suit, desperately trying to get more information from a source on the ground.

"We have reports of shots being fired on the parade route," he says. "We're trying to get more information.

As the shots ring out, T'Challa leaps impressively from one car all the way to the President's car. She's followed almost as quickly by Jennifer, who turns green and burly rather quickly. Meanwhile, Sue is putting up a blanket of clear energy trying to put a protective cocoon between the President's car and the rest of the people out here.

As the shots ring out, Magneto sends a burst of pressure that takes all metal and shoots it outward. Unfortunately, many of the citizens alongside the parade route are hit with metallic debris. For days they will be pulling screws out of people's knees, keys out of people's eyes, and those are the lucky ones. One particularly terrible incident is a baby that has been impaled by a hubcap and will be in surgery over the course of the next few days. The consequences that he did not think about seem to be pretty severe.

Xavier searches around and cannot find anyone who seems to have wanted to harm the President, everyone is in shock, and that young man he noticed before is headed out of Dealey Plaza and down the street.

Lee Harvey Oswald is going to go to a movie but forgot his keys up in the floor where he works.

But as he walks down the hallway, he stops cold. There, at the end of the hall, is someone who looks exactly like him.

He can hardly believe it, and before he can do anything, the doppelganger exits out the back door.

It just so happens that Johnny Storm happens to see someone, from his vantage point, running from out back behind the observatory. A young man is walking calmly. He's wearing a leather jacket, white t-shirt, and blue jeans, and is headed east.

Down, below T'Challa's arms, sits the President. But rather than the bullet holes she may have been inspected, it almost looks like he has been burned through the shoulder and through the back of the head. Almost as if he was struck by lightning.



ROLL: TChalla +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 51


Black Panther pushes the President into Jackie's arms and tries to shield he and his wife as she examines the wounds. "We need medical! Now!" she shouts, as she tries to staunch the flow and keep the man alive despite the grievous wounds. "Energy blasts, not a firearm. Hospital, now." She does not call in the Wakandan jet hiding out at the airport, because she is guessing it would cause more chaos than it would help. With a Secret Service cordon going, they should be rushed to the hospital at fastest speeds. She can only hope it might be enough to save this man.


The large expansive bubble around the crowd remains firmly in place. Sue's hands continue to extend in front of her, and her focus remains intact while she holds the crowd in its space. Until she knows the coast is clear, the bubble remains. Her grip on the energy strengthens as does her resolve. The call for medical, however, has the forcefield dropping. Getting into the bubble could be a problem otherwise.


Well. Not everyone lives long enough to be at a turning point in history, for whatever it's worth. Heather has that feeling borne of years of experience that this is very, very bad. She looks over her shoulder, down to the car, and she knows the situation there is grim. She'll catch up with Sue later. She turns to the sky to look for Johnny, to see if he can spot her.


"God," whispers the She-Hulk practically over the Black Panther's shoulder, forming a dense, intense barrier to anyone with further ideas. "I don't know I could get him there fast enough at a run. Maybe." Her teeth sink into her nightshade lip. "Johnny?" On that front she steps back, giving an opening for someone else to get through.


Got him. The Human Torch doesn't hesitate, not even to alert his companions to what he sees — he's off like a rocket in pursuit of the man near the observatory, a trail of fire left burning in the sky in his wake. It will make him very easy for others to follow, should anyone decide to.

When Johnny Storm puts his mind to it, he can move fast. He lines up, kills his flames to return to flesh and blood, and allows his momentum to carry him forward the rest of the way — right into the man's back, both of Johnny's arms thrown around him to pin his arms to his sides on the way down to the ground. It is not particularly graceful… but it is, one hopes, effective.



At a small hole in the wall BBQ joint, Bruce Banner is trying to get some food in his stomach with some of the money he was given by a man who took him for a beggar. He has enough change for a sandwich and orders such with a glass of water.

"Could you turn the television up?" asks Banner.

At first, it seems as though he's ignored.

"Please?!?!" Banner shouts out angrily enough to surprise the people eating at other tables. He breathes slowly and tries to calm himself.


Scott sits up in his chair and looks to Violet as things have gone from bad to worse. "Is he hit? What happened?" And then, as if he too needs some consoling, Scott pets the dog almost out of reflex.


Alex arrives, just behind Xavier, Erik, and Crystal as the motorcade has now already driven by. People are screaming, and crying, and a great deal of people are injured on the ground all around them. If Alex looks to his left, back towards the bend in the road, he'll see a similar sight of people laying on the ground in agony.

Luckily, well for the mutants anyways, Xavier mentally pushes everyone's thought away from their group. The fingers will be pointed elsewhere. As they stand there, Alex, Xavier, Crystal holding Erik's unconscious body, it's clear that they need to get out of Dodge. And quickly.


The news comes through as Lorna's classmates begin to sob. "We can confirm that the President was hit. We are trying to get further details, but our eye on the ground can confirm that the President has been hit." The sobbing begins to get louder.


One of Magneto's victims is the secret service agent next to Meredith, who slumps over her, bleeding heavily, dead from her earring which was ripped out of her ear. The metal inside the steering wheel jerks heavily, sending the car careening into a retaining wall where it mercifully comes to a stop.

The car that now holds Black Panther, the President, Connally who also looks to have been hit, Jackie Kennedy, Jennifer Walters, and Mrs. Connally races around the bend, heading to the hospital as quickly as possible.


Johnny Storm slams into the body of the young man and piles him into the ground. He rolls over and his hands are up. Immediately he shapeshifts into a man with black hair. "I am Loki of Asgard!" he announces. "I am a Prince!"

"As an American citizen, I would like to speak with my lawyer!"

EPILOGUE: https://youtu.be/6PXORQE5-CY?t=1m11s

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