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Word travels. Whispers move from place to place, talking of tragedy and change. Talking about what's 'right' with the world, and what's very, very wrong. One hint of a connection slips from one mind to another, and soon enough, the information spreads through the working men of New York that a group of people are actively doing something about the 'mutant problem' in their city. They're accepting members, just like them. Hard working men with issues regarding these freaks of nature. They're trying to expand, grown their numbers, and there just so happens to be an evening where they're meeting with the new blood. The location is the basement of a bar in Brooklyn. It's a hole in the wall, piss poor building, with dim lights and overwhelming aroma of piss and cheap booze. Standing at the door are two, larger men, both keeping a look out, and checking on anyone, and everyone, that attempts to pass through the door between them.
*
Chances are a building like this won't have any information really worth taking. it certainly won't have members lists or anything else anywhere near as useful as that. But while there may not be a lot of tangible information there may well be someone who has information. Someone that may be convinced to share it over time. And so VX dresses casual looking like so many other craftsmen around, his thick clothes stained with oil some even being smudged over his face. Luckily for him there is no physical sign that he is a mutant. Most likely they would only be able to know if they recognized him, and that was a night of chaos and confusion. And so he makes his approach much like anybody else. "Well here goes nothing."
*
The pair at the door chatter with one another, sharing stories and jokes before pausing and eyeing those that pass. Some get stopped, mostly women or younger boys, who are turned away and told the bar is 'closed', even as its sign blazes 'OPEN'. When VX arrives, one of the two rests a hand on his chest and stops him in his tracks. "Password." He demands stoically. They stand, stare, and wait for the longest of times. It's not until the man asking twitches, and his friend gives him a slap on the shoulder. "Don't mind him," the other says. "He's just shitting you. We don't have stupid passwords. What is this, a tree fort?""I just wanted to see what he'd do. Have some fun once in awhile, Barney.""Fuck you." Removing his hand, he them thumbs toward the door. "Sorry about that, Brother. Head on in."
*
VX offers the men a quick grin as they joke before letting him inside. "Thanks." He keeps his reply as brief as possible, trusting the smile to do most of the work. Best not let his voice betray him by talking too much. Today he has made the approach unarmed, although due to his nature he is never truly unarmed. He moves in trying to stay with the norm as much as possible, his most useful asset at the moment is anonymity. He may be handsome but there is nothing about him to truly make himself stand out, especially not when he just looks like another dirty worker.
*
Nothing but men ranging from their 20s to their 60s dot the building. Some know each other, and converse while drinking free booze and liquor that is poured for them at the ready. VX doesn't have to wait too long, as the collective is called down to the basement of the building as the meeting is about to begin. The basement is stuffy and cold, lined with chairs that were only mean to seat about twenty, forcing others to stand in the dimly lit room. Perhaps, it was suppose to be only for a small group, but more, and more arrive, and join, the possible 'recruits'.
The casual chatter continues, until a man in a suit, wearing an arm band proudly printed with a sharp, bird shape, and its middle reading FOH across its wing span. His hair is slicked back, and the auburn haired man is handsome enough, with a set jaw and something…bestial in his warm, honey eyes. "Welcome, Brothers. May I have your attention please."
*
The man most likely to have the information VX wants steps forwards, although whether that goes badly for him or VX remains to be seen. He does his best to slip through the gathered people casually trying to get closer to the speaker, his eyes scanning the crowd looking for a security detail relying on his skills learned in the police special operations unit. Attacking him here might not be the best move, best listen to what he has to say and then see if he has less people around him when he makes to move off.
*
Once everyone settles and become attentive, the man offers them all a sly grin and rests a few papers down on a podium that stands before him. "First of all, allow me to welcome you to our meeting tonight. I know it's cold outside, and I know you have precious hours from now, until you're back at your daily labors, but thank you for attending and showing your support for true change in this city." A few more can be heard agreeing already, nodding their heads along, and even smiling at the suited man's praise.
"I won't beat around the bush, gentlemen. Tonight, we are going to talk about the soul sucking issue that this city seems bound and determined to neglect; Mutants." Some of the men hiss and chatter, grumbling out curses at the very term they so obviously loathe. "For too long we've been holding them up and been made to pretend that we are their equals. The truth is, we're not equals to them, regardless of their 'wants' and what they 'say'. We are under them. Below them. Belittled by their very existence. How long do you think you'll keep your jobs, your homes, your security in this world when some little girl can run through walls, or some boy on the street can turn himself into a walking bomb?" He then pauses, leaning forward, as his hands grip the sides of his podium desk. "How long do we have against those monsters that can dig into our very minds and take away our very free will?"
*
VX does his best to contain his anger, but it really does not matter. Most people here are angry, although their reasons for anger are stark opposites. At least that is impossible to see from the outside. He stays quiet, this is not the place to have a friendly debate on mutant rights. There is only one way him speaking up would end. Now that he is close VX does his best to melt into the crowd, going with the flow as it were. Even if it means pushing back his pride and voicing hatred he does not believe in. Biding his time until he can get this speaker away from his place of power hopefully.
*
"The cops won't do anything. Hell, they've 'allowed' those freaks into their fold. The government doesn't care about these people, but they don't do anything against them. It's not a permanent solution, and that, my brothers, is where /we/ come in. They are countless, but we can bring their numbers down. We have to protect ourselves from them. We will be like the heroes in storys of men versing gods. They are the old religion, and we need to bring them into the light!" The men cheer, and this was his audience. A few, however, don't seem to accept the mantra, and exit the basement to go about their own business. The rest, though, linger, chant, and cheer. "The world is struggling to accept those lessen than us. We are being 'forced' to be told what we should believe in, who we should be friends with, who we should accept. No more!" He slams a fist on the podium desk. "We will make up our own minds! It's up to US now, brothers. We'll take the power back into our own hands and shape our own destinies!"
*
So it is going to be like this then is it? VX shakes his head imperceptibly as he looks around noticing a few people leaving the room. Good. At least they will not get caught in this. Hopefully they have the heart to let go of their hatred. Many of the others in this room will not get the chance. He moves slowly doing everything he can not to draw attention to himself, his target the two men at the back of the room. But they will not be the only ones. VX gas slowly starts to seep from his skin as he moves, a lower concentration that normal. Not enough to truly notice the effects immediately. The scary thing about VX gas however is the effects are cumulative. The more they breath in the more fully they feel the effects. And the effects are devastating as it ravages the central nervous system ridding those affected of the strength to resist. He does not want to affect the speaker just yet though. So while he could fill the room, he doesn't. Not yet.