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Bob Fisck frowns a little as he watches Peter Parker set up in the press pool. "I know you're used to the street beat, kid, but remember, this is the political arena. Make sure that you get those in the background as well as those that are speaking. Their reactions will be the ones that make or break the story."
Peter nods as he listens to the older reporter talk. "No problem, Mister Fisck. And thanks again for the opprotunity!" the young man offers, his press pass set upon his tweed jacket that probably once belonged to Uncle Ben that Peter had to borrow because the press pool at the UN is not for kids.
"Yeah, well, thank my regular camera jockey for coming down with measels. Just remember to take the shots I tell you to take, and none of that funny stuff I see you do with Spider-Man."
"Sure thing!" Peter offers cheerfully as he continues to make sure that his camera is loaded with film and ready to start taking pictures for the Daily Bugle.
The United Nations meets as a full body on rare occasions. Pulling out the stops for pomp and circumstance usually falls as an annual event, planned well in advance. Sheer chaos in Midtown suggests something definitively last minute about this particular meeting, and the diplomats crackle with unease and excitement. Security Council members appear in sober blacks, separated just as the world is divided, united in name only. Translators whisper into their headsets, journalists make their notes, and the television cameras roll as the body goes through minutiae at a shockingly quick clip. The gallery is full to the brim; too many suggestions in universities and offices, halls of power and magical corridors something is up.
U Thant, the Secretary General, is terribly brief in his statements after things roll. "We yield to the esteemed Indian delegate, B. N. Chakrvarthy."
Mr. Chakravarthy is older, dark, and slim, dressed in a proper three-piece suit in dark navy blue. He walks to the lectern and faces the speakers as the representatives in the hall above settle. His hands grip the sides of the podium to avoid shaking. Delegates around him are uniformly not Caucasian, and several of them stand in a position of ready alertness.
Having a sugar daddy for whom money is no issue comes with perks. Kai has traded his beatnik chic in for a fine silk suit tailored to his smallish frame. He's slicked back his curls, taming them somewhat, and he looks Very Official. He also looks like a kid, despite his beard, who has gotten into Dad's closet. This is why he doesn't wear suits very often. He finds a spot in the gallery that gives him a good view, and he settles in to watch. God knows how he got in, but now that he's here, he's ready for some politickin'.
Bruce Wayne has decided to make an appearance at this political shindig.
Arriving in a limousine and causing quite a stir as he approaches the area, Bruce Wayne gives small nods and big smiles to everyone for the purpose of the cameras. Though he looks now to himself to make sure he's presentable.
A pure black two-piece suit with a dark blue tie and a silver watch around his waist, he walks right on in, shaking hands of course and making the appropriate waves. Though in truth he was on business. Bat business. Many ways to receive information…especially when it's the UN.
Elmo comes along with Kai, in street clothes. Not his usual scene, the whole UN, but the scent of trouble in the air has him interested. Plus Kai made him.
Something about all this has the hairs on Peter's neck standing on end, but for now he's chalked it up just to sheer amount of people and the observation of those that are standing and preparing to speak. Snapping several pictures of the delegate as he takes photos, he pans the camera back to take a picture of his delegation and glances towards Bob to see if this is supposed to be a normal thing.
Bob, still busily writing notes, glances up at the new announcement and lifts a brow. "Now this is interesting. Keep taking pictures, Parker, this could be the break you've been looking for.
Peter doesn't say anything, his camera snaps off a few more shots as he advances the film methodically with each shot, just another 'click' in a roomful of them along with the symphony of stenographs, pens on paper, and tape recorders that battle with film and photography cameras.
Jean came dressed to not impress. Not standing out in the crowd, typical ponytail and business lady garb that quite possibly no one has ever seen her in. Representing Columbia University, she keeps a nice little pad of paper on her inside coat pocket, which was soon flipped out, a pen clicked as she begins to scribble down random words to appear that she was intent, paying attention, and reporting.
Kaleb M. Miller, son of a Captain of Industry, one of the heirs to the same Capstone International company that built the Pentagon, other military facilities around the globe, and at least 9 of the high rise buildings and skyscrapers in New York, was of course in attendance. Somehow the sonic, and closet Mutant, found a way to dress up even more from his normal fare of being overdressed and was hand tailored down to every thread in the silver and black suit. It was a startling different to see the lad that wants to study Architecture step up in his father's looming shadow and play the game. Hell he even smiled and was actually glad-handing while walking with the chiseled, senior Martin Miller II, his father. The young man might try hard to fight falling into high profile business, but damn if he wasn't cut out for it. Delegates? Likely here to shake the hand of the man that could build them the edifice of their new military instillation… this was not Kaleb but he went along with it. Contacts were contacts and they exactly the first heads of state he's met. He played the role. A glance back found Jean of all people only because he knew what to look for and greeted her with but a subtle lift of one eyebrow as to not call attention to her but to say hi.
Mr. Chakravarthy bows his head briefly. Then he lifts his chin and speaks in lightly accented English, suggestive of boarding school and lots of Yeats and Kipling. "I am thankful to you and the peace-loving members of the United Nations for having met at this hour to discuss a matter of vital importance to our people, to Asia, and to the world at large. Our thanks to Mr. Thant, the Secretary-General, for his tireless efforts to bring us before you. I represent the Non-Aligned Countries. We aspire towards collective security and expansion of freedom.
"As I tell you, and you can all sense it, this moment bears the imprint of a unique greatness. A matter so fundamental, so important, must be revealed to this body to discuss and consider collectively.
"Certain nations would have us remain silent upon our findings. They have blocked all efforts to inform you. The logic of this request leads us to conclude a frank discussion and investigation stands against their interests. We have been silenced. Equality is part of our constitution, and here all are equal, we make ourselves equal. In this spirit, the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization supported an expedition to examine claims of a site of peerless archaeological and historical significance in international waters off North Vietnam.
"The Non-Aligned Countries say, together, we have definitive proof of an unpopulated city of unprecedented scale at a depth of seventy meters in the South China Sea. We call this city 'Penglai.'
"We have witnessed technology beyond any historical or current civilization that produced magnitude six earthquakes and energy bursts that completely destroyed two modern Soviet submarines. A powerful metahuman could not begin to deflect the beam. The output equalled the daily energy use of Calcutta. Conclusive dating of recovered artifacts imply the site is twenty thousand years old and not of human provenance. This city is unlikely the only one."
The deafening silence in the general assembly marks those who are in the know — a number of delegates nodding along — and those taken utterly by surprise, many in between. The permanent representative murmurs, caught by the microphones, "Vishnu's hour has arrived."
Though he originally came here on business, Able is dressed to fit the setting. Dark grey suit tailored to accentuate his tall, slim frame. White shirt, black tie. Expensive shoes, polished. Though he always puts together a smart outfit, today he's stepped his game up. While he looks politely attentive, he really is just being polite. Politics have never been of much interest to him; he probably wouldn't be here if a former client hadn't requested his services.
Though she might not be trying to stand out, it's hard to miss Jean. She's one of the doctor's only friends. Perhaps /the/ only one. He approaches her and touches her elbow. "Nice threads."
Then things get interesting. Politician he's not, but Able is a man of science. Now he really is paying attention.
As Bruce stands in the background…he hears talk of this 'Penglai'. Curious….though he's been investigating an…alien presence he can't really explain to well. Perhaps this will help him?
He keeps his arms crossed as he listens closely to the indian delegate. He looks around and spots Mr. Parker diligently taking pictures, able walking about, and kai…being kai.
Kai glances at Bruce Wayne as he comes in, and he tugs Elmo's sleeve. "Look look look! It's Bruce flippin' Wayne!" He points, unsubtle. Then he settles down as the speechifying begins. "Elmo!" he hisses. "I want to go to that city." He skims the crowd, looking for other things to comment on for his friend. "They should have concessions here. I would murder a hot dog."
"Vishnu?" Peter mouths silently as he continues to snap pictures, before Bob speaks up. "Hindu god of chaos and dstruction…" he starts to say, and that's when Peter gets a new feeling. The hairs on his arms stand on end and the young man starts to feel that moment of unease within his brain that's screaming a single word at him.
'Danger!'
There's a snap, and the camera runs out of film. And while Parker has easily five more rolls in his bag, the young man stammers, "I.. I forgot the rest of the film in the truck, Mister Fisck! I'll be right back!"
"Parker, I swear to god, if you leave right now, you'll never work the political beat again.."
Peter frowns. He knows that this is a once in a lifetime shot, but he shakes his head quickly. "Sorry, Mister Fisck, I don't even know who the Vice-President of the UN is!"
"There is no Vice-Pre.." but it's too later, Peter's already retreating. "That boy.." the UN reporter seethes, as Peter makes his way out of the press pool and towards an empty area in the building, where he's quickly stripping his suit away to expose the red and blues that rest beneath it. Pulling his mask into place. "…Spidey in the UN. At least it's a big hall." he murmurs, as he moves towards the side exits and climbs the fire stairs to try to get up higher and find a place to A) Plant his camera. And B) Scan the crowd for what's getting his spider senses all on edge as he hangs upside down from the visitor's gallery. "Don't mind me." he says to some surprised tourists. "Just interested in you know.. International Politics."
Elmo sinks down in his seat a bit as Bruce Flippin Wayne and other luminaries show up. Maybe he's having second thoughts about not letting Kai dress him up. "I know," he hisses back, elbowing Kai. This news is pretty damn interesting and he listens intently. "What's Vishnu?" he asks Kai.
A recognizable face in the crowd; Kaleb gets a subtle nod and right after her gaze was upon the speaker. There was no need to scribble notes, as a man who looks over her shoulder could see that she was doodling something non-descript. With the pad soon shoved into her pocket, she looks up, then around.. her gaze falling upon the empty space beside her as she gives a little frown. Outwardly, it looks as if she were lost in thought, but in reality, the effigy that was Her remained poise.
In a suit like hers. Yet on fire.
'You don't listen.' She says.
But Jean does not react. Instead, her gaze turns to focus upon the speaker, her hand lifting to press lightly against her temple, the other arm wrapped about her waist as if she were thinking. But in reality, she attempts to reach out with her TK.. some news this big? Often comes with ill-doings to the speaker. There was hope enough to reach him in time, to draw and wrap a slightly curved shield over the podium, protecting Mr. Chakravarthy if she could..
Kaleb sat next to his father playing the part of the billionaire puppet son. It took every muscle in his body not to react to hearing the name 'Penglai' or that it meant anything to him. He decided on that look he has when he just hates the world which was flat indifference which was a great mask for any emotion he ever accidentally almost had. The blood did drain from his face though. Echo's father leaned over and whispered to Kaleb, "That sounds like a hell of a thing doesn't it?" Kaleb murmured to his father, "It doesn't sound like it can be structurally sound at all." Ask him a political question and Kaleb still found a way to focus on the structure. This actually got a bit of a chuckle from him. Kaleb's interest was up though and he still had the ability to glance the room with the look of a curious, bored socialite. He was looking for a certain someone who in theory should be here and wasn't in view which was either very good, or very bad right now.
The Indian delegate holds his place in the spotlight. Perspiration gleams at his temples in spite of the relatively cool weight of the hall. He glances aside and gives a near unseen nod. Another man, older, African, in an exquisitely embroidered and patterned gold and green tunic heads to the podium as Mr. Chakravarthy steps aside. He might just slide off the telekinetic shield, puzzled, but matters call. An announcer, somewhere, halts and chimes, "Berhanu Dinka, the permanent representative of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia." Translators disseminate that in thirty languages in a minute.
"My brothers and sisters, we of the nation of Ethiopia address you with fondness in our hearts and trepidation for our future. An hour unlike any in our history has come upon humanity and passed. Was it a year ago a being who was not human looked into a television camera and told the world that others lived amongst us, and we are not alone in the cosmos? He warned President Kennedy to be ready.
"We witnessed the assassination of the American president in Dallas, Texas, two weeks later. A year has passed. A year of escalating violence from squabbles. A year without readiness or action. Our collective security is at risk, but we do nothing.
"Who has taken account for the satellites gone silent in our skies or the transmissions in languages no one speaks? Who answers for the brave pioneers to space slain in cold blood, and the survivors of those attacks forcibly silenced at this very hour? We are at war. We are at war, and we do nothing."
He draws in his breath, and gazes up at the countless faces and nations, the sum of humanity institutionalized. "The superpowers would stifle the voice of this body and deny the smaller nations of the world a chance to affirm our people's destinies. No longer can we stand by and wait. Listen to the words of that great man who is no longer with us: 'Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an end to mankind.'
"The Non-Aligned Countries sponsors advocates to speak to this discovery and the conflict engulfing us." He gestures, hands outstretched to them, a laurel leaf poised on his palm. "We welcome the honoured yebelayi danya to address our brothers and sisters. Be not afraid."
So said the angel, as recounted by Luke 2:10.
Bruce Wayne listens closey to his words, taking a small sigh at their words. Especially when war is brought up.
"Human nature seems to have been ignored…" he murmers so quietly only he can really hear. Thus did he look around. Though he can feel like he's being watched. He looks around a moment.
An abandoned city. Advanced technology. Energy output comparable to that of a large city. It's compelling stuff and Able is soaking it up. He fiddles absently with a silver cuff link while he listens.
"This seems… unlikely. Unlikely enough to be intriguing," he observes. He shoots Jean a glance and arches an eyebrow at her distracted state. Though he remains outwardly calm, he's instantly alert. "I know that look," he mutters as he scans the crowd. "What's wrong?"
Up in the galley, there's a few murmured words of fear. Spider-Man frowns beneath his mask, the white orbs of his eyes narrowing in thought. He doesn't seem to be able to find out exactly what's triggering his senses and he's scanning the crowd with a hint of worry as he tries to find it. He's unaware of the redhead's assistance in the crowd - he's looking to keep her from having to keep up that shield for too long and even looking to the roof, to make sure it's not about to all come falling down.
"Hindu god," Kai says. "He's probably referring to Oppenheimer quoting Vishnu in regards to the bomb: I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." What. He reads. Besides, he's been here for a lot of American history. He frowns. "It's like they're trying to put a puzzle together with only half the pieces. With a sigh, he sits down. "If they bring up Loki," he says in a low tone, "I'm telling you in advance: I can explain."
Elmo shoots Kai an alarmed look. Vishnu, the bomb, Loki—way too many destroyers of worlds mentioned in the same breath, and everybody is acting weird. With the instincts of someone who's been beaten up a lot, he pulls a short-handled screwdriver out of a pocket. What he plans on doing with it is a mystery, but it's obviously his weapon of choice.
"Nothing." Jean answers Able sharply. "Or.. could be something. I don't know yet. Public speaking is a hazardous job, lately, these things rarely go alright." Her eyes focus again, watching as the man moves out of her range, yet with a silent tsk.. she attempts to expand it even more. There was obvious strain there, she wasn't in her costume, there was a way to hide her face but that was a level of multitasking that she wasn't prepared for just yet.
"Eyes open though.." She says quietly, her own glancing up towards Able as the green within soon replaces licks of flame. "..something doesn't feel right. Or someone feels that something doesn't feel right and I'm picking up on it hard." -THANKS PETER!-
Medusa is here. She's here because she's one of the more gifted of the Inhumans when it comes to matters of diplomacy, of interacting with those who carry credentials similar to her own. Her hair is as compact as she can make it, twined into a braid almost the thickness of her own torso. And if the occasional minute strand doesn't seem to quite move in a natural way, surely it's just a trick of light or distance. It's the news of Penglai that visibly gets a reaction from her, albeit little more than a lift of her brow and a tightening of her jaw. At the news of other cities…a slow breath. It's only a matter of time. Her eyes briefly dart to Jean, musing briefly on whether or not the X-Men member will remember her before she looks back to the stage. For the moment, she does nothing - but her muscles are tensed, like she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Delegates get to their feet, ambassadors starting to hiss to one another. The look on one French diplomat's face is apoplectic. Nikolai Fedorenko, the Soviet representative, speaks rapidly to his colleague, the mild-faced president of the UNESCO General Conference. Mr. Sissakian is possibly the mastermind behind their political revolt mentioned in the news (+bbread 15/10; 15/16). Certainly the American delegation looks ready to stab him with their fountain pens.
Heads crane for the closed main doors. They do not open, and the countdown begins. They do not have long to wait. 77 seconds after Mr. Dinka went silent, space folds around itself. A pale blue lattice forms. Motes float in the air. From nothingness emerges a very tall woman, clad in a violet tunic and silver armour, a metallic spear strapped diagonally over her back.
A heartbeat later, two men similarly attired flank her. Hammers in cradles cross their backs. With military precision the trio approach the speaker's podium and rotate to face outwards at the audience.
So appears the fourth, taller than the rest, garbed in deepest sylvan shadows. A cowl partly conceals his head but certainly not the intense cobalt shade of his skin, nor the lancing black fcial markings held in common with the trio. He considers the diplomats poised about eye level with him, the assembly swept with a look.
Kaleb was actually relieved to see Medusa and tried, as he would, to sigh, and in that take murmured words in the sea of people, and let it travel circuitously until it got to her. In her ear only did he murmur like a disembodied apparition, *You have at least one friend in this room. This situation could get worse fast*. Kaleb looked up to his father who was looking at his too-focused son who in turn shook his head and flitted a hand in the gesture of 'why do these people bother', though rarely did he focus his attention more. He lied to his old man, though oddly not untruthfully, "If someone tries to seize that thing they'll look to fortify their assets. Would be a good time to talk to them. If the world doesn't tear itself in half like a ticker tape parade. People tend to ruin the potential of near everything, let's be honest." He dropped one more note into Jean's ear; a too-familiar voice for her, 'Jeanie-Bean this is all worlds bad news. Careful.'.
No microphone is necessary to hear that authoritative voice rolling outwards from him in concentric waves to the furthest corners, the deepest niches. "The Kree Empire acknowledges the hospitality of the United Nations of Earth."
"The Supreme Accuser of Hala," says the announcer, faintly breathless.
Batman looks at the Kree as they arrive, and he seems tos tart moving seemlessly by people, speaking into his watch. "Alfred, the suit." he says under his breath. "Right away sir."
it was time for Bruce to change into something more…durable.
Peter can't help it that his Spider-Senses are going completely 'HEY STUPID, TROUBLE!' at him. Blame Loki! Finally webbing a smaller camera to the underside of the visitor's pavilion, Spidey is far more alert than if he had drank a whole pot of coffee. That is until the Accusser and his entorauge arrive, and yes - that would be the explanation of all of Spidey's senses being more wound up than a slinky in a hard compress. "Hey, hey!" comes the noise from the peanut gallery.
"I really don't think you went through security with those!" he calls out to the group of hammer welders. "The Blacksmith's convention is in Midtown.. and I got nothing for the Blue skin thing."
In an area this crowded, there's enough background noise to cover the sound of Able grabbing a chair and discreetly separating one of the metal bars that forms the backrest. He leaves it in place with the break covered by one hand, but at least he has a weapon of sorts. Luckily, his client already left with a pretty attache, so he doesn't have to split his attention.
"Sounds fun," the doc whispers wryly. "Alright, you know the drill. You point, I punch."
That's when they get a set of new arrivals. "Oh," Able says. "Well. That just happened." Now his improvised club is wrenched free, but it seems like a paltry weapon, even to him. "This is out of my pay grade, but I'm game if you are."
Kai stares as the Kree arrive. "What the f—" He cracks up as he hears Peter's remark, and as he sighs pleasantly, he says, "We're so screwed, man." He sits lower in his seat, peering over the person in front of him. "Don't worry, Elmo, I'll protect you. Good instincts, man." He pats Elmo's screwdriver-holding hand and gives his shoulder a squeeze. "Don't run. It'll cause a panic."
"Kai did you /see/ that—" Elmo was excited but Kai puts a damper on it. "You… know those guys?" He stands up, as so many people are doing, to get a better look.
Feelings, all of them, but mostly one of familiarity rings out within the crowd. Her attention was split, her brows furrowing slightly as she turns to spy another redhead within the sea of people that had gathered. A redhead that was.. well, the epitome of redness! 'Medusa!' Jean thinks, and what a sight for sore eyes. There was a little smile there, and a quick turn of her head as those upon the stage continue their pleas, their speeches.
It all could be read upon her face; that moment of recognition with the choice of the words they use. The cracking of the steel next to her, and the garbled words from Able has her shaking her head quickly to knock out the fuzz. "What? Oh! Righ-.."
And then -they- come. And yet, before they even touched down Jean was already on the move, the sea of people parting their ways with a mental nudge so that she could rush to the front unscathed. Yes, she heeded Kaleb's warning, but he was in a position to do naught. Only she, probably Able, and maybe Medusa could hopefully see it that this rally does not go tits up.
Spider-Man unleashes his rallying cry in the form of a joke (which will be funny later on, trust her!), but her hand was already reaching out, waving like a madwoman with the intent to climb upon the stage. "PEACE!" She calls out, at least hoping to use her words to quell whatever ill feelings were about. And surely, this would gain her enemies just by doing so. "If it is true that the UN has offered our lands for them to rest then PEACE! No fighting!"
But.. there was a dream.. a dream that pushed her forward. The armor.. their helms down. Many colored tabards.. vigilance.. is it this?
Bruce soon returns in his full armored batman garb and he makes it just in time to see Spiderman…charge the Kree. Well then. Batman sighs a moment, throwing a smokebomb at the aliens!
Afterwards, he hops down himself, opening his cape to let it turn into a glider as he comes down in the form of a Bat.
The Kree. Those who made her people, and would see them enslaved. Medusa's hands tighten into fists, head darting slightly at the voice in her ear. It's not as disturbing to her as one might think; dismebodied voices of telepaths and other folk who can project their voices in a careful fashion are quite common in her life. A fight may be stirring, and small tendrils of Medusa's hair begin to writhe aggressively. For the moment she remains silent, waiting to see what move the Kree are going to make. She can't afford to reveal the Inhumans with the impression that they are a hostile force to the rest of the world - not unless she's pressed to. This is a mistake, and no matter that it might be the lesser of two evils, it doesn't make any of it any better.
Kaleb watched from his seat, which was good, as he was a utilities specialize anyways. He didn't actually have to move to aid them if he wanted. His fingers steepled at the bridge of his nose. The look read at least to his father next to him like he was praying for the debate to be over and people to grow some dignity. That would be the appearance.
What Kaleb was really doing was reaching sound out to Jean while he still had a direct line on her. "Careful with the Kree. I hear they've gone full Tybalt Capulet. They hate the word PEACE like they hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee likely". Now how Kaleb Miller knew about them? Who knows. Seeing them in person was terrifying and fascinating.
"Our lands?" Peter asks himself. "What, are they going to start a potato farm in Idaho? Maybe a hammer commune in California? Or coal miners in West Virginia." There's so many opprotunites that are there, but for now, Spider-Man remains standing rather upside down as the redhead is yelling for attention and calling out for peace. "I don't really think they're here for a round-robin of ''Kum ba yah''." he offers towards Jean and the offer of peace, but for the moment, no, he's not rushing in to attack.
That cry of peace snaps two Kree gazes in Jean's direction. The rest they are prepared for. The trio stand at attention, hands clasped in front of them in plain sight. Nothing alters at her cry; their weapons are fully sheathed, for all they absolutely seethe with power for anyone remotely capable of detecting such.
Ronan is not someone anyone can miss, blue skin and height aside. He holds himself still and upright, enduring as the mountains and eternal stars. Disquieted voices roil around them in a dozen tongues. Diplomats gasp or shout, the cacophony in the gallery spiking louder. Pitiless television cameras roll on, yards of tape independently verifying the impossible. This may not be summoning a bound ice giant, but something else.
"I deliver a warning to the leaders of nations and people of this planet. You are at war with an ancient interstellar race. You know naught for they conceal themselves behind fabricated words and threats. Their deceitful ways would bring down the justice of the Kree, my people, upon you," Ronan says. His English is impeccable, oddly soft for the thunderous delivery that brooks no hysterical squeals or shouts to the American, British, Soviet, French delegates.
"We warned you once, after the Asgardian delivered his message." His glowing eyes level that slow regard. "President Johnson said he would avert conflict. His word is broken." Beat.
"We warned you twice, after Penglai and Akkad delivered their messages." He has not moved. Hala, standing behind him, frowns. "The Midnight King said he would end the conflict. His word is broken."
He lifts his hand. Two white ribbons bind the bracer briefly visible, such a simple image. Symbolic. "We warn you thrice, after your leadership and your institutions have been infiltrated and corrupted to place you at odds with our empire. Hala is not at war with your nations. We endure the misunderstanding but our forbearance is not infinite. Look to yourselves before you open your house to the blood red tide of all-encompassing conflict."
"Oh come on, you trusted Loki to deliver a message?" Spider-Man sounds incrediolous. "You'd had better luck getting Lucy and Desi to deliver it." Though now that would suggest that Loki's message was you know - kill Kennedy to deliver said message. Though his eyes narrow slightly as he listens, really to the rest of the threat. "So.. you're not saying that you're going to side with this.. other race, but at the same time, you're going to attack us if we can't figure it out. That's.. helpful." Except not really.
Batman approaches the Kree after landing on the ground. After approaching them in his full bat-garb, he looks at Spiderman. "You should consider it mercy. According to what I hear, the Kree are not always so benevolent, or give this many chances to hold to an agreement. Let alone warn." he's done his extensive research. "Spiderman…I suggest you keep your distance. They are not ones to take lightly."
"Here we go." Able follows on Jean's heels. When people start talking about blood red tides. and Midnight Kings, his chair-club starts to feel even more inadequate. That's not stopping him, though. "You heard the lady," he calls, his faint accent marking him as thoroughly German, if repatriated. "No one fights tonight. I don't care if you're blue or your're here in your pajamas. This is a place where rules are made, not broken!"
Funny, coming from him. He's an unlicensed physician, a mercenary, and a general ne'er do well. Which means if he's willing to listen, anyone can and should. "Talk to them, Red," he urges Jean quietly. "Someone has to make some sense of all this."
Kai shakes his head and tells Elmo, "Just because I'm an alien doesn't mean I know every alien." He tugs on Elmo's sleeve, trying to coax him to sit down. He then asides, "The Asgardian he's talking about is Loki, but it's a long story. That Loki died, and ours was reborn." He pauses, then adds, "Not that long of a story after all. Get down." He shoots Spider-Man a Look. "You don't know him like I do!"
"No. You are being pressed to war and we will not engage in this short of defending ourselves." The blue woman wielding the spear answers the heckling tone from Spider-Man. Her white eyes burn hot as stars, absent of pupils.
Elmo mutters savagely, "What is this mishegoss?" He yells, probably lost in the growing noise, "We didn't do nothin'!" supporting Spider-Man's statements. Kai tugs him down and he goes reluctantly. "What's this meshuggener up to?" he demands of his elfin friend.
It all almost seemed helpless and daunting. Many mixed emotions were in the crowd, even Kaleb's words were nearly starting to ring true with the speech Ronin had posed. Her mind floats out to connect to him, her words nearly broken and disjointed.
~We have to try to reason.~
And with that? Jean effectively fucks herself and the X-Men by proxy. Which, could aptly be blamed on Able too, with his encouraging words..
"Wait!" Jean stammers out, attempting to hitch herself onto the stage and looking right silly doing it. With a drop down upon two feet and a rip of her skirt, she effectively (and improperly) climbs onto the stage, bold as best she could get in the moment. Call it adrenaline, and a little hint of inspiration and a touch of the crazies. For two major things were about to happen..
"As you tell it, Sir.." Jean states, once she's upon the stage, inching slowly towards the guarded fellow and his two, both hands shown palms outward to show that no tricks were up thine sleeves.. she continues.. "..you have given chances to those whom you would deem leaders. But you do not look to the people of whom those leaders represent." She gestures out towards the crowd. "You only speak to one, but you did not speak to our kindgom as a whole.." She presses her hand to her chest.
"Allow us this one thing. -One-. Allow -my- kind to try to fix this travesty. To prevent war from barking upon our doorstep.." Even as she moves, her back slowly turns to the crowd, her eyes.. still lit aflame slowly morphs into the effigy of 'Her'. Perhaps, Ronin was aware of the double meaning that she speaks, for she was two seconds away from outing herself as a mutant in public. Her hand slowly stretches, at least hoping for an offering of peace for -now-, or a means to die where she stands. "What say you?"
Oh, hell no. At the declaration of the Midnight King's breach in progress. Medusa's eyes narrow into razor sharp slits. She strides forward, head high, moving closer to the podium. She's not doing anything along the lines of HELLO I AM AN INHUMAN but the direct stare that she gives the Kree Accusers and the subtle writhing of her hair might identify her to them. Everything about her suggests that she'd most certainly like to have a quiet word with them. But nevermind that.
"You stand there, demanding that the people of this planet defeat an enemy that may hide themselves amongst us like chameleons, with no means, technologically or otherwise, to detect them, but opening the way for us to turn against each other in suspicion. By all accounts, we must proceed with care, our we will destroy ourselves as readily as they might destroy us. If you seek an optimal outcome do something more than hold an axe over our heads." Medusa faces her makers (so to speak), unflinching. Perhaps afraid, but she was raised from birth to have the mightiest of poker faces.
Of course, the PHOENIX just made an appearance, and might be a bit more noticable than the would-be Queen of Attilan.
Kaleb should never be right where civic ensibilities were concrned: he was a cynic who couldn't stand humans. This was not helping matters. WHen jean climbed the stage and just volunteered Mutants to fix things withthe Kree Kalebactually did a couple take. "Jean… ". He couldn't even finish that sentance but with "…what the shit? Please don't get blown up. Don't get …us… blown up… anything we can do now's the time to say so." His elbows dug into the arms of the chair shifting his eight up and looked from her to Medusa to the few others that were speaking. This went south about 20 min. ago. Now we were digging holes. People would be the end of the world. Fucking called it. Ugh. Well… now to figure out how to salvage the situation. he had to. His stuff was here and there were people who didn't deserve Kree bullshit. God blessed.
The Supreme Accuser does not answer the jeers or those alarmed outbursts. With Hala behind him to field the most immediate misinterpreted issue, he remains silent in his stoic regard. No weapon comes to hand, no arrogant curl of a cerulean lip greets them.
Only the somber gravity, the white ribbons curling against his cloak and flowing away into tangled knots. "We do not make haste," he informs Jean and the whole audience by proxy. "Your enemies contrive to bring us to war with your race. Thus why I come directly and speak to all of Earth against the conflict. It is our nature to fight war when threat is offered, not when false pretenses exist. Halt the Skrull who bedevil your peace. I am ill-inclined to offer them what they want. Deny them the pleasure of this conflict, and we will be satisfied. End their meddling and we may even consider trade negotiations." The other redhead trying to play it incognito might have gotten away with it up to that point, for Ronan frames her in vision for only a moment. No hostility. Merely acknowledgment under the banner of hospitality.
Jean's effervescent flash of light is enough to bring a contemplative look. The Kree behind do not move. He offers his hand. Jean's is absolutely dwarfed, but the gesture counts.
"We were bidden to not interfere, lady. Look to your own to know why our people remained to the edges of this solar system rather than intercede and bring our mortal enemies to their end," he states rather somberly.
Batman looks between Medusa and the Kree, hands moving towards his batarangs as his arms remain hidden in his lead-covered cloak. obviously ready to make a move to save Medusa and distract the Kree if he must.
Either way, he seems to be thinking this out instead of getting in the faces of the quite powerful aliens. Though when it's clear this will remain a peaceful discussion, Batman gives a small nod, and stands there as a symbol of courage against the aliens. Pehraps helping to give people hope to speak up, that htye will be protected.
When the immediate threat of violence seems to have passed, Able tosses aside his improvised weapon and hops nimbly up to stand beside Jean. "She's right. Humans are stupid, panicky animals when you single them out, but put them together and they're resilient. They don't always do the right thing, but they try and they mean well. Give them a chance to come together they might surprise you."
'They.' 'Them.' These words single him out and separate him, but for good reason. He's often described himself as being both less than and more than human, but he's always held himself apart from the population, both normal and meta. He's something different, which might make him more like these visitors than any of them would care to admit. "You're not lying. Or exaggerating. I'm not like them, I understand. And I get the feeling that if you wanted a fight, we'd have our hands full. You just want them to take our their own trash."
It's not exactly heck— okay, it's heckling! But really it's for a reason. Underneath that calm mask, Peter Parker is all 'Oh shit we made contact with aliens and they're threatening a war, isn't that great!' the young man's terrified, and jokes and quips are just to try to keep him calm down as he glances towards Kai and blinks. "Asgardian God of Mischief, likes to mess with humans? Nope, don't know him at all." he admits, before his attention returns to Hala. "Do we get a clue? A hint? Maybe a giant neon sign saying 'Enemy's Here'?" And then Jean's offering up her own offer, and for a moment, he feels perhaps the greatest pang of Spidey-Sense from her than any of the others in the room, but he misses the meaning of it as he prepares to thwip in and scoop up the girl if he has to, "Wrong redhead." he mutters to himself.
And then Medusa speaks. "Wait. Chameleons?" he asks, his eyes lifting in an expression of utter confusion. What is it with all the redheads and cryptic messages tonight?! "So, are we supposed to just go.. will the real human please stand up?" he sighs quietly to himself. Bad enough that there was already alien angst all up in New York, now everyone is going to be all. "It's like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, everyone's going to have Capgras delusions." he mutters. But at least it's not him that Ronan's offering to shake hands with, Jameson would eat that up.
''SPIDER MAN, ALIEN MENACE''
"How long are you giving us?" comes the obvious question. "And how many are here?"
Kai looks like he's about to lunge at Peter and make a thing of this, but he stops himself. Loki works hard on his image as chaos incarnate. Kai can't go round beating up every mortal that says Loki mischiefed at them. He exhales sharply through his nose, and he tells Elmo, "Don't engage the massive blue alien, Elmo." He amiably, lovingly clamps a hand over Elmo's mouth. Only briefly. "They're just warning us of another threat," Kai tells him. "Given the way interplanetary politics usually go, this is probably their version of a courtesy call."
Elmo mmmfs furiously against Kai's hand. When he's let go he stands up again and /yells/. "We've seen this before, you putz! You wanna start a /pogrom/!"
There was a brief glance back towards Medusa, and quite frankly, the lady does have a point. As far as Jean knows, there is no way to figure out what, or who they were after. Or.. who invaded the planet.. or.. anything, for that matter. At this moment, one would see this as a means of personal gain, which has her thinking..
But Kaleb's further warnings were ringing in her head, her eyes squeezing shut to try to isolate his voice, not rudely blotting him out but keeping it all in mind to speak about later. After all, he was a witness to this, and she was definitely going to force him into helping. At least to not prove him right. His stuff is here, after all!
"Good faith." Jean states. "Show us just a little of that faith, a future with negotations between us and your people." She smiles a little, hand still held out. "Give us -something- to help us in our fight. You came to us, you showed us your fa—.." Face? Her words were caught within her throat as she really looks towards him, the fire within her eyes flickering as her head slowly tilts. It was -him-. But does she allow this card to show? Yes! Her poker face was -horrible-!
"F..ff.ace.." She stammers out, attempting to keep with the talks. "As the young woman said.." She gestures towards Medusa.. "Give us something, even a little to help us avoid this conflict." But as his large hand engulfs hers, Jean nearly hiccups quietly, her hand attempting to curl around and at least give a good and hardy shake. Yet, inwardly, the firebird screams, cries havoc, and it takes all within her to not break out into words that were unkind.
Yet… Elmo's outburst draws her free hand to smack hard against her forehead.. "Forgive us. We've got heart." Prying her hand away from the large one, she smiles.. though it was a little sad. "May we open another talk on neutral grounds? Or is this the last time we all shall see you and yours before the coming of the storm?"
Medusa's attention momentarily askances as Jean plays her card. The Phoenix Force requires a great deal of her willpower to keep from double-taking. Turning her attention once more to the Kree, she says, "I would speak with you, when opportunity permits." Let the masses wonder who she is. She needs to find out more about this aforementioned broken promise, and the Inhumans are running out of time. Jean's handling of the situation is actually rather good, but only an Inhuman can speak for her own people. At least, in Medusa's mind.
The last thing Echo wanted was a riot in the suits. He knew his people and trust was not one of their commodities. They barely kept loyalty and that was strictly enforced by a monetary sense. It was about then after Elmo's outburst and Spider-Man's opinions on Loki that Kaleb's subtle hand clenched into a fist slowly in his jacket pocket pulling all of the sound down around the stage to isolate the Kree from the words of the crowd and just let them have that moment to has things out with Jean. Oh sure sound got out, but sound wasn't getting in right now. Martin Miller II looked at his son calmly "You know what this means? Pentagon will want better security on the federal buildings." Kaleb tried, hard to contain the sound and also have a quiet conversation with his father. "Yeah, I'll see you June then? Seriously, the more hands in this the worse it is going to get." Said father to son, "We should talk to that woman and find out- Kaleb your nose is bleeding." It was almost accusatory of 'can you choose not now to have health problems'? and people wonder from where he gets it. "I'll speak with her." "But your-" He snapped a cold look to his father but spoke quietly, the control of the din nauseating him. A kerchief blotted his face with his free hand. "You said step up I'll… talk to her."
"I would advise you do not attack. I demonstrate for her purposes." Ronan holds his arm out, palm up. His fingers spread. A sphere of energy pops into existence, taking on a sickly green hue. That field spreads to display a figure in a suit, a businessman like any other. Peel off the outer layer of skin as the projected image does and suddenly there is a humanoid face with defined, pointed ears and ghastly complexion, that of a desiccated green olive. Deep grooves punch into the chin, the corners of the mouth, lines around the nose, the brow.
"That," he says, "is a Skrull. Shapeshifters. Their agents infiltrate venues of power, communication, technology, politics. They conquer by way of subverting leadership and defenses, stripping these until they are merely shells. The last sortie overplayed their hand and they were exposed too greatly, their numbers diminished. The ones remaining are deep underground in their weakness. Look to the advisers of your leadership who sow discord and division. Look to your power grid. They have no doubt been using it to exploit our abandoned sites." Therein lies the hardest tone. "Penglai. Akkad. Others put to their purpose."
The gesture winks out the light. "I am not directed to extend the limits of your civilization's advancements. If you are to locate them, you must do so with your own resources." He makes a short gesture with his hand. "One week. We will convene again. You will know our coming in good faith again. It will be upon these grounds."
Batman seems to take a step back when Ronan extends a hand, because you never truly can be too careful. Just part of the gig. Though hwne he hears and sees that man in a suit, a businessman, hiding is a Skrull. Curious.
Batman seems to look around the room, as if seeing if anyone looks particularly too nervous…perhaps attempting to sneak out in the confusion and or fascination…his eyes are preened on the crowd now, instead of the Kree.
"You have our thanks for your warning and your benevolent arrival." he says in humbleness…either that, or just sweet-talking the Kree so that he can get to work faster.
Able shakes his head and holds out a warding hand toward Jean. As protective as he often is of her, this time he speaks as a fighter, not a friend. "They need to see this taken care of, not take care of it. They're warriors. They need to know they can trust you to defend yourselves. To find solutions to your… to our own problems. They need to see us clean this up ourselves. And responsibly."
The doctor turns back to Ronan. "If he gave us weapons or technology, he'd do more harm than good. You don't win a fight against an enemy you can't see by bringing a bigger gun. You win it here." He taps his temple. "He knows that. At least now we have an idea where to start."
"Blue people, green people, little purple people eaters." To be honest, Spider-Man's not sure if his spidey-senses will work as a Skrull-detector, but it's the only option that he has in his arsenal right now - except for that very big clue about looking for power fluctuations around former sites. "Hey, do you have a convient map of those former sites? That would be helpful." Not that he's sure if the words get through, THANKS KALEB.
But with things seemingly winding down, and security all in a fluster, Spider-Man knows that it's time for a tactical withdraw. Back through the visitor's gallery he goes. "Wedensdays are model UN days, those are real knee-slappers." he offers to a stunned tourist as he grabs his camera and heads back towards that bathroom he had come out of earlier. Later, out comes one Peter Parker as he rushes down towards the press pool, toilet paper clinging to the bottom of his feel and trailed behind him.
"Sorry Mister Kitsch, I got the film, and was up in the visitor's gallery…" the young man says obliviously for a moment before ohing softly. "Yeah, I got a couple of pictures of them, I think." he offers quickly.
"Parker…" Bob sighs quietly, and shakes his head. "You're about as useful as a bump on a log sometimes. All heart."
Kai pulls Elmo down again. "I'm just going to ask what your end game is, Elmo. How do you see this conversation with the big blue aliens going? Because I don't think they're going to say, "The mortal in the peanut gallery is right, let's do what he says." Now, generally, I'm all for you being you, but I'm in the blast radius." He eyes Elmo. "Is this what it's like for you hanging out with me? I'm beginning to understand why you're mad all the time."
Elmo is so mad he can't even get enough words out. For some reason, the display of the creepy dude doesn't convince him. Kai pulls him down and he goes, sitting hard. He snaps Yiddish at Kai, but then Kai being uncomfortable with /him/ for once gets through. "Yeah," he says, annoyed. "Exactly like this." He looks back at the assembly of heroes confronting Ronan. "…Hey, that's Batman."
Jean takes a step back as the orb begins to play the scene. She watches intently, her head nodding ever so faintly as she offers up a little smile. A friendly smile. "Got it." The image was there, now they need to go sniffing, and she has a clear point of how to do just that. As Able speaks, she understands, but.. now? It was time to get to work. "Another week. Got it." For a moment, Jean seems as if she were going to give Ronan a hug, but thought better about that notion. Instead, awkward wave here and there for the cameras.. and.. she hops down from the stage. Ruined skirt and all.
Much like a cat who wanders and knocks things over and lays upon typewriters or TV sets for warmth because they feel like it, she just goes ahead and wanders on out. Mission, started!
Medusa can't help herself. Medusa's gaze swings toward Batman, like …really? and then her gaze returns to the Kree. She's not entirely happy about having to wait a week, and then, wait, is it Parker who just asked questions about those sites? Her mouth presses against itself, and wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, the princess keeps her mouth shut, and begins her retreat.
Kaleb sat very still just focused on the stage quietly enduring that feeling of his brain slowly turning to a hot slurry right now with all the input. The earplugs were in, sure but they could only do so much. It was loud. Dammit whey didn't his Inhuman pals have like… a hook up on a nice quiet moon or something where there was a nice welcoming vacuum and all was quiet?? They seemed to have everything else. YOU ARE WELCOME PETEY. The last impression the Kree needed was accusations flying from every nation right now. And then the words came from someone three rows behind him, "You want us to put our fate into the hands of mutants and science projects?! They start these problems!" The closet sonic's jaw clenched and he was really super glad the stage was locked off. The best he could do was make the Mutant-hater's voice sound like Alvin & the Chipmunks. Crossing the streams only made it worse and his eyes started to float. Kaleb scowled and tried to hold the room down. Nope. nopenopenope. Seeing his son waver in his seat and slump a bit Martin Miller's eyes went to his right hand man. "It's getting too hot in here I think. Let's… go step outside." The political climate was heated, the room was warm, and the sonic was in roughshod shape. Bloodshot eyes looked at his father confused for a moment and said, "Seems… that time." Death before indignity. Walking would be fun but he stayed to the middle of the assembled Capstone pack for innocuous evacuation. Moments after they left sound was returned to Jean and Medusa on stage.
Ronan says no more. He gestures behind him to the others, a subtle, slow thing for the benefit of those watching. It is not for the smartly trained band of Accusers, who spring into motion almost immediately. Three distinct pulsations of light and they are gone, the space they occupied empty. Not so much as an auditory signature marks their location, their existence only in the eyes of those who witnessed them.
That final presence, the Supreme Accuser himself, pulls one of the white ribbons from his wrist. He presents that to the Ethiopian delegate still by the podium. The second goes to the Indian delegate. With these both presented, he snaps a smart, upright stance, and vanishes.
Kaleb goes home.