An Uncertain Future


brian_icon.gif felix_icon.gif heather_icon.gif teo_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

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Scene Title An Uncertain Future
Synopsis A rally for Democratic Candidate Rickham and an Anti-Linderman Act Protest bears witness to shocking events.
Date October 30, 2008

Financial District

In spite of itself, New York's financial district has weathered these tough times like it has other crisis' in the past. The neighborhood and it's people certainly aren't a strangers to them. The Financial District has its own scar, and it's own Ground Zero, though from an admittedly earlier tragedy. While the memorial to the September 11th attacks stands out amidst the skyline of this hub of New York's commerce, it is a wound that the city learned to survive, just like the events of November 8th.

Despite it's proximity to the fallout area and the Red Zone, the Financial District has bounced back onto its feet well. Public and private corporations funneled billions of dollars into the economy of the neighborhood to ensure that Wall Street didn't collapse along with the remainder of New York's heart. This multi-billion dollar effort was not without obvious results, and this neighborhood of New York is almost exactly as it was before the Bomb. While the western edges of the borough at Battery Park City were temporarially evacuated during the initial fallout scare, this region hasn't seen the dive in property values or spike in crime as strongly as other similarly hit areas such as Staten Island and Queens has.

Buildings in the area look well-tended, the city streets are kept clean, and the NYPD has a strong presence here. Overall not much has changed in the local attitude since the Bomb happened, save for the jagged northern skyline, and how the neighborhood slowly begins to degenerate in condition the further away from City Hall and Wall Street you go.

The crowds began gathering before the sun even set over New York City. It's an auspicious site to hold the presidential debates, espescially the capstone to what has been the most wild and sensational campaign season in America's history. An entire block of the Financial District outside of the new NBC studios has been closed down by police barricades in an effort to keep both the growing sea of demonstrators in one area, and also to keep the streets clear in case emergency response is needed. On the opposite side of the street from the skyscraper that houses the television station, thousands begin to gather for a protest that has been in the works for months.

Senator Allen Rickham is the voice of the Evolved, a man campaigning for Evolved Rights and an opponent of the Linderman Act. It is no small surprise that, by merit of his very platform, the Evolved have congregated to him as their candidate, a representative of the people, a freedom fighter. It is, perhaps, in this very positioning that Rickham has given himself, that spurred on this demonstration at all.

Crowds of supporters for Rickham and opponents of the Linderman act carry placards displaying slogans against the registration, many of them drawing blunt paralells towards Nazi Germany in World War II, paralells two of the candidates in the election would rather turn a blind eye towards.

"INTEGRATION NOT REGISTRATION!" It is the chant of the Rickham supporters, a voice for unity among the Evolved, to put them into society in places they can do the most good, not carded and categorized and shuffled away into dark corners of the city. But there is a voice, another voice, packed into this city block that has also come in light of the demonstration. Surrounding the block of Rickham supporters are citizens of New York and visitors from abroad, many carrying "VOTE PETRELLI" banners, and others blown up photographs of the New York skyline — the very one visible on the northern horizon — except from the many chilling photographs before the fires went out after the bomb. These Pro-Registration crowds are equally vocal, and the tensions between the groups has brought out New York's finest in droves today

Horseback police patrol the streets that divide the block of Rickham supporters from the crowds of opponents, and others with riot shields, batons and other crowd-control ordinance man the barricades between NBC studios and the protestors. People are still allowed the right to demonstration, but if this gathering were to turn violent…

It could be an ugly turn.

"Hey hey!" Seated around a fountain in the middle of the plaza where many of the less vocal demonstrators are gathered, a young man in camoflage cargo pants and a motorcycle jacket tunes in a large portable radio, "I think they're gonna start soon!" Trent Daselles; activist, volunteer, college student. He, and a collection of thirty or so friends from Columbia University have come to take part in the protest, to show their support for Allen Rickham, and to be a part of history.

Head bowed, and shades in place on her eyes despite the late hour, a dark-clad figure drifts slowly through the quieter portion of the pro-Rickham crowd. Cables link earbuds and a small radio tucked inside her leather jacket, drawing at least half of Ygraine's attention away from the noisy demonstrators in the middle distance.

Striding along the sidewalk, and into the protest area, Heather grins at the size of the crowd gathered. She'd been told it might be large. And it lived up to that report. Her pink hoodie bearing the Columbia logo, jeans, and sneakers would almost instantly peg her as a student. And while she's here as a student, she's also here as an agent of the Company. After all, never know how many people they're on the lookout for might show up. Her phone is slipped out of her pocket, and a simple text message reading 'In place' is sent before it's slipped back where it came from.

Well, Colette suggested that Felix be there. And there he is, as if trusting Sylar's pursuit to have long since fallen away by now. He's in fairly casual clothes, for him - jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, with worn boots, under his overcoat; he looks more like a grad student than John Law. He's out of the main flow of the crowd, hands in his pockets, watching the protesters pass him, expression thoughtful.

With many eyes in the crowd, it makes detection of friends that much easier. "Ygraine!" Comes an excited shout from the masses, as a young man works his way through the people towards the woman. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, Brian is just one of several in the crowd tonight. Keeping tabs on things, and just generally getting to take in more than that average protest goer. The young man smiles as he reaches his new co-worker. "Hey.." He says as he comes up beside her, though not knowing what to say next.. leaves him in a sort of awkward stance next to the British woman.

It takes a few moments for Ygraine to locate the source of the call over the noise of the crowd and the debate coming over the radio, but she locates Brian just before he reaches her side. One hand comes up to free one ear, and she nods - albeit a little distractedly. "Mitchell's just supported the Linderman Act in his very first answer", she grumbles.

"Woooo!" Fire isn't a strange sight in the plaza right now, and the police are being remarkably tolerable to the many lighters that are being lit. "Take that you facists!" A group of young people on the edges of the protest are burning their registration cards, all wearing bright yellow t-shirts with a stenciled logo that proclaims, "FORTIS ET LIBER." Maybe they're members of the radical group PARIAH, maybe they're just bandwagon jumpers, but the message that started in the viral video hasn't been lost on them. The pile of blackened registration cards is small, a mess in one of the many trash cans set out by public works around the plaza.

Riotous applause breaks out when cheering can be heard on the radio, "Rickham! You go show 'em what fightin spirit is about!" One of Trent's friends hollar, throwing a fist into the air.

"Dude, where's the girl from the church? Didn't you say she was gonna be here?" Another ed-haired young man asks as he leans in, setting a hand on Trent's shoulder.

"Man, Colette probably bailed on us, she's a wet blanket anyway." He pauses, spotting a few people burning registration cards, about to make a comment, but as Senator Mitchell's comments come over the radio, he turns and shouts at it as if the senator could hear him. "Facist bastard!" His friends break out into laughter, "This guy makes 1984 look like light fucking fiction. Fuck, he makes Petrelli look like a candy-ass. Go polish your goddamned army brass somewhere else, dickwad!"

Frowning lightly at Ygraine's words he looks to her and cocks his head to the side for a moment. "Can I listen?" Yes, sharing earbuds is an awkward experience, but it may be worth it to hear this stuff. Brian shuffles a little closer, hoping the answer is a yes, though his eyes flick up at all the yelling. Looking over to the people burning cards he gives a low whistle. "I hope they aren't really Evolved. Shit. That's way too open." Says the man who has six of him walking around in the crowd.

Heather works the crowd like a seasoned dancer. Weaving her way through them, she happens to notice the ones with the t-shirts bearing the PARIAH slogan. Mentally noted. They might be harmless, but then again…you never know. When the applause breaks out, she follows suit…lest she appear out of place.

This is possibly the worst place in the world to display either badge or registration card. The former's tucked away in a pocket, the latter's safely in his wallet. Fel makes his way through the crowd towards one of the mounted cops, an old acquaintance from his NYPD days. "I foresee some burnings in effigy, O'Meara," he says, quietly. The cop merely nods, lips tight, and reaches over to pat his mount on the neck. The horse, a dapple-gray, is entirely phlegmatic, as police horses must be. It merely snorts, and works the bit lazily.

Ygraine pauses briefly, then unzips her jacket to delve inside and rearrange the radio somewhat. Moving it to a less secure pocket frees up another foot or so of lead, letting her offer her "spare" bud to Brian without needing to hug him.

"You sure got that right," The mounted officer says with a crooked smile, "Trust me though, you don't wanna get me started on this. I'm pissed off enough that they didn't let Ron Paul in on the debates. It's such bullshit." The mounted cop cracks a smile, though her eyes divert to a crowd of protestors shouting profanities across the street to people carrying Vote Petrelli banners. "Jesus this is a bad idea…" She murmurs, tugging on her reins as the horse clops down the street to get in the middle of that group.

"Rickham! Don't let that little shitball talk over you! Just jump right over the podium and smack 'em one!" Trent laughs as his entire group of friends do as well, "C'mon Rickham, one-two punch and win the election! Woo!" From the tones of their voices, it's pretty clear Trent and his friends had a few drinks before heading down to the plaza tonight.

Giving a smile of appreciation and thanks, Brian takes a step closer to Ygraine. Pulling the bud up he pops it in his ear to listen. Grey eyes meander over to the loud laughter nearby. Recognition sparks on his features before he gives a shake of his head. "Fuck. That guy is more about evolved rights than evolved are." He's telling Ygraine, though he's not particularily certain if she's paying attention or not.

Was that….a faint sound reaches Heather's ear. It's barely audible but enough to make her turn her head and notice the other crowd of protesters. "Oh great…" she mutters, as she accidentally bumps shoulders with some skater-looking dude. "Whoa, baby….what's the hurry?" the dude asks, but gets no answer as Heather just shakes her head and keeps moving.

Ygraine darts a worried glance to Trent and company, a look of distaste flickering across her features. "I hope they've run out of beer", she mutters sourly. "This is looking like some people are here to be stupid…"

Felix steps away, and fades back into the crowd again. Mostly giving thanks he's not one of the ones charged with controlling it. HE ends up at the edge of the circle of those burning Registration cards, looking almost as if he's tempted to fish out one of the ones that's fluttered away from the blaze.

"I think that statement applies to humanity in general." Brian says to Ygraine with a smirk. Moving up his hand, he cups his free ear so that he can listen more to the radio and less to Trent and drunkfriends.

A pair of grey eyes pick up Heather, and the skater dude. The girl who could make little black holes! This Brian is dressed in a long sleeve grey shirt and jeans. He has a black beanie cap pulled low and slightly cocked to the side. Cuz he's hip like that. The young man approaches the girl, "Hey.." He says kind of softly, before repeating it louder. "Hey! I don't know if you remember me.. I was there when you got mugged? Or, almost mugged, I guess?"

"Stuff it Petrelli!" Trent shakes his head, cracking a smile, "Put Rickham back on!" A few of his friends burst out with laughter and one, a young blonde girl, takes out her wallet and begins fumbling through it as she walks towards the crowd of teenagers around the trash can in the plaza.

"Hey, who's got a lighter?" She asks, pulling out a Registration card. A young girl, maybe thirteen, raises her hand with a tongue of blue flame dancing off of it. The blonde cracks a smile, holding the card over the fire as it browns, then blackens, then crisps before the plastic laminate bubbles and pops, "Woo!" She calls out, waving the card around, "Fortis Et Liber!"

Ygraine frowns pensively, reaching up and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gah. Even the guy I'm wanting to win talks like a paranoid, isolationist twat, though I suppose he HAS to if he's to stand a chance. I just hope he doesn't believe it", she grumbles.

She must be popular tonight. Or people just want her for her body. Either way, Heather stops at the call and metion of mugging. Turning she recognizes Brian's face and grins. "Oh yeah. You were. Glad to see you're still free and Homeland Security hasn't locked you up or something." The request for a lighter draws a gaze from her quickly. "They're going to get in so much trouble for that kind of stuff."

It's a foolish whim on his part. But Fel has a disposable Bic in a pocket, and he tosses it underhand to the girl in question. Is he supposed to be here, jotting down names and faces? His expression is utterly neutral, as if he had no real reaction to the furor around him.

"You're using big British words again." Brian says with a frown to Ygraine as he listens more intently. "I mean, I want the Evolved to have rights, but it is a tough issue. We need another Jesus." He comments idly as he listens.

Other Brian gives Heather a strange look. "Why would Homeland Security lock -me- up?" He asks incredulously. "My name is Brian, by the way, you were.. Heather, right?" He didn't forget, he just wanted to make it look like he's not a creepo.

Traveling as a white boy in China had felt a lot like this for Teodoro however many years ago. The default minority-majority paradigm completely flipped over, inversed from one's daily life. Most days, he skulks around the streets of Manhattan knowing he's part of the un-Evolved masses, the proportionally superior population, the bigger part of the pie. Today, though? There's little doubt that the ratio has been turned inside out.

It's not hard to tell. The slow-changing mottos going up in ragged cheers here or there, the burning Registration cards, the density of gathered bodies occasionally puncutated by a bodily glow or a sound neither synthetic nor sapien. He stops in the shadow of one interchangeable monolith, not far from the news crews, the thinnest part of the NYPD overseers, a handful of other human spectators. Watches from under the hood of his sweatshirt, watching for faces he might recognize without expecting to see any.

"What, like twat?", asks Ygraine dryly, lifting a brow above the line of her shades as she shoots another glance to Brian. "Gyah… this isn't sounding good. At all…"

"Hey!" Trent waves, rising up from over by the radio as a few of his college-age friends continue to shout obscenities at the radio. The motorcycle jacket-wearing young man saunters over towards where Ygraine and one of the Brians are sitting, nodding his head with a crooked grin. "I saw you two down at St.John's over the weekend right?" He holds out a hand with an affable smile, "Name's Trent." His eyes flit over to Ygraine, "You're a friend of Colette, right? Short girl, funny eyes?" He wiggles the fingers of one hand in front of his face. "S'nice t'meet you two."

One of the kids by the trash barrel steps backwards, bumping into Felix, the young girl who helped ignite one of the registration cards. She turns around, smiling up cheerily at him, offering a hand. "Hey! C'mon, it's not scary!" She nods her head to the trash can, "Did you have a card you wanted to burn? We're all cool with it, Darcy started, but we all just kinda' joined in." She smiles, crookedly, with a childish innocence. "We own the cards right? N'they got our stuff on computers, so it's not like we're hurtin' anybody!"

"Oh, I don't know. I figured that after we both split from the scene like that, maybe they'd want to talk to us." Heather give Brian a crooked grin. "They came looking for me to ask some questions. But standard stuff."

"No, thank you," Felix says, with cool politeness, blinking down at the girl. "Well, arguably you have to have ID on you, but ….I'm not here to fuss about that,"he says, blandly. And then glances around, as if seeking signs of either police activity or Sylar.

Pfft. "I know what a twat is." Brian says confidently to Ygraine. He might not. Listening he shakes his head, "I don't entirely understand all of it, but I think I agree with you." The young man says also dryly. Then his eyes flick up as the man approaches them. "Shit." Is said under his breath. "How much have you had to drink, Trent?" Is the first question that is asked. He gives Ygraine a glance, before returning his attention to Trent.

Brian smirks at Heather. "Yeah.. They would lock me up for that, wouldn't they. Well. They didn't find me. But I have nothing to hide, right? No problem if they did." Brian insists.

Ygraine is rather surprised to see Trent close enough to recognise him… but after a moment she manages a smile and a nod. "Hi. And… yeah. This might not be the best place to be too merry. Colette's not here, is she?"

"Nah, she bailed on us. She left me a message on myspace about having to go to the hospital to pick up a friend or some shit like that." Trent's eyes flick over to Brian with a crooked smile. "Just a couple of beers on the way from the dorm, takes the edge off having to listen to the facists dance in circles and pat each other on the back for how fucking progressive they are." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, settling his weight on one foot. "You two listenin' to that verbal boxin' match? It's pretty tense." He tilts his head back, looking across the street to the television studio.

Taking her eyes off Brian for a moment, Heather scans the crowd of protesters. So far, no faces stick out and nothing major going on that needs her attention. "True enough. But I'm registered, so they knew where to find me."

Teo steps aside when a woman bumps into his shoulder, trying to hasten away with a four-year-old child in hand whom she'd only just dragged out of her workplace's daycare. He finds her fear understandable even if he can't empathize with it, exactly. He's worked with PARIAH long enough to be able to recognize that the vast majority of these protesters wouldn't belong in any of the 'terrorist' faction's permutations, which isn't to say anything for their lack of earnestness.

He's momentarily distracted by Mitchell's response, audible through the crackle of static from a nearby cameraman's hip radio. His head jerks on its stem with the violence of a seizure, eyebrows inclining stark on his fair skin. For a moment, he stares at the electronic like it owes him money. The next moment, he looks back. Recognition emerges face by face. Brian first, others vaguer.

Brian very subtly turns away from a Trent. A quiet physical suggestion to, 'go away'. But he continues to talk to the man. "Yeah.. We are." It's kind of obvious. But he won't mention that. His eyes wander away from Trent as if bored with him and just look to the crowds around them. There. His eyes squint for a moment at Teo.. That guy! Normally this would be the part where Brian starts stalking after the man. But he has no need. Because at that exact moment three other Brians are making their way towards Teo's position.

"So what? You're gonna be at this protest and not burn your card like all these other crazies? Brian asks Heather with a bit of a grin

Ygraine nods once more to Trent, apparently rather less inclined than Brian to get rid of him. "Yeah… and hospital? I think I heard her mention something about that. I have the impression it was kind of serious, so don't be too hard on her for it. She doesn't exactly seem to have a lot of people close to her, so someone she goes out of her way to help…." Even as she talks, she's clearly somewhat distracted by the voice in her ear, and her voice trails off at the end while Rickham speaks.

"As much as I'd like to burn my card…" Heather pauses, fingering the card in her pocket. There's more to the card than just being a document of registration. It's a reminder of her parents. "…I can't do it. But feel free to do yours." she finishes, grinning at Brian.

Tilting his head, trying to hear what Rickham's talking about away from the radio, Trent frowns, coruching down to rest his forearms over his knees. "Yeah, yeah, she's a good kid. She just is flighty is all." He eyes Ygraine, content to leave Brian out of the conversation after he's been given the cold shoulder. "What's Rickham talking about? I kinda' got pissed when Petrelli was all up on his high horse." His eyes scan Ygraine for a moment, "So, you must be American, right? Like, naturalized or something? I mean, since you're actually listening."

The Sicilian rubs his nose. Realizes how cold it is out here, without a crowd and its consummate enthusiasm to sweat over: his nose feels like a dead thing lodged onto his face. He files away names and faces for future reference and pulls on the strings of his hoodie, tightening the garment around his throat. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he gives the nearest media crewman — paparazzi — whatever — a jerk of his chin, a thug's salutation, before turning on a heel. He lets his shoes scuff the pavement and turns blue with darkness before vanishing entirely.

"Why do you keep saying shit like that?" Brian asks Heather with a quizzical glance. "Why would -I- have a card?" Even though he asks the questions seriously, humor is painted on his face as if he already realizes he's found out and he's just playing the game out of routine.
The Brian with Ygraine and Trent remains silent for now, his eyes trained on Teo. He just can't lose visual with the man until his posse gets to him. But then the man falls back.. And his Brian clones have trouble finding the man. This leads to the identical men searching the crowd with confused expressions.

Back at Ygraine and Trent, Brian's features twist into anger as he realizes he has lost Teo. "Fuck!" He cries out rather loudly before he realizes what he has just said.

"Comparing Evolved to people choosing whether or not to take firearms licenses, and saying registration should be voluntary", Ygraine provides to Trent somewhat distractedly. "And now… Petrelli's near enough saying Evolved _are_ weapons, since they don't choose to get powers, and should automatically be licensed. Oh - it's all about the parents now. They "have a right" to know if their kids - what?!?" She looks around rather sharply as Brian expostulates.

"Whoa there, killer." Heather says, holding up her hands. "I didn't mean to imply you had a card. I just assumed. And you know what they say about assuming…sorry if I offended." Her gaze darts down to her pocket, from which she plucks her phone. Green eyes roll as she reads the text message that was sent. She quickly taps a reply and sends it.

"No, no." Brian says to Heather with an easy smile. "You're fine. I just meant, why would you assume I'm an Evolved, just cause I'm at this rally. But you don't have to answer that." Not everybody believes the identical whateverlets story.

Over at Ygraine and Trent, Brian gets a confused look as if he had not just shouted a profanity. "Uhh.." He says as he looks from the man to the woman. "I just really don't like Petrelli." He offers as an excuse for his behavior. "Besides 'President Petrelli'? That sounds silly. Might as well be President Pickles." Brian tries to make up quickly for his rash outburst.

Trent nods, looking worried as he exhales a sigh, "The thing of the matter is that Rickham might be a rough-around-the-edges kinda' guy, but in all honesty he's the best bet the Evolved have to find some level of safety and security in the future. I mean, the other guys, just listen to the kind've bullshit they're spewing." Standing up straight again, Trent slides his hands into his jacket pockets. "They're gonna have people I care about rounded up like cattle and implanted with chips or some shit? I just can't handle that — but, I mean, I'm scared. Fuck, we all are. But look around us…" He nods over to the kids at the burning trash can, "Everyone's got a way of dealing with fear." He looks across the street to the Petrelli and Mitchell crowds, "Some are just more vocal about it than others." He smirks, "Me? I'm scared shitless I might be one, and not even know it."

Ygraine quirks a rueful smile at Trent, after shooting Brian a rather bewildered look. "Oh, you probably don't have to worry about being arrested for not registering even if you didn't know. Probably. As for why I'm here…? I was here in '06. Wanted to come back, not hide… but this election's making me wonder if I might be leaving again…."

Heather certainly didn't buy the identical whatchamacallit cover story. But that's beside the point. Everybody has their own secrets. Including her. "Oh, I don't know. I just figured….well…I don't know what I figured." she says, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. Diverting her gaze once more to the other two crowds of opposing protesters, she's assured that for now things are cool.

"Leave? Oh, so…" Trent furrows his brows, looking down at Ygraine inquisitively. "Heh, yeah. If Rickham loses, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. I mean, I have less to lose than some people in my family. But still, it's a scary thought about living in a facist dictatorship like this is leaning towards." He may be over-reacting, or perhaps fear-mongering, but the concern behind Trent's eyes is honest. "I just don't want this whole situation to blow up into something that could hurt a lot of people, and that's the way I see it all going now unless somebody takes a stand, you know?"

Ygraine nods quickly to Trent. "That's why I'm here. I want to show support. I'm not going to do anything too radical - they could just rescind my visa in a flash and throw me out on my ear - but… another body in the crowd, I can certainly do."

Frowning at Ygraine, even though the two don't know each other that well, she is one of his only friends! "Don't go." He pleads quietly after his unusual tantrum about President Pickles. He continues to listen though.

Brian gives a grin to Heather. "Yeah, you were right. Don't tell anybody, right?" Brian gives a little smirk to her.

Screaming can be heard over by the news crews, followed by skwaking chatter coming over the radios of the police. News crews are running away from the glass front of the NBC building, followed by police charging into the area. Riot officers begin shoutong over bullhorns, "We ask that everyone please pull back from the demonstration area immediately! Please do so in a calm and orderly fashion!" The riot police around the barricades start moving in, just slowly walking with shields in a phalanx, a very blunt, but very slow suggestion to vacate the premises.

Shouting erupts in the plaza, "Oh my god! Oh my god! He's been shot! Senator Petrelli has been shot! Holy shit!" Screams fill the crowd as people listening to the broadcast on all sides begin to erupt in panic at the sounds. "CNBC is saying that Senator Petrelli has been shot! Oh my god!" More chaotic voices, as Trent rushes over to his friends.

One of the young college students is in tears, "Oh my God, they're saying there was gunfire in the studio! Trent, jesus christ we've gotta get out of here!"

Brian's unexpected plea earned him another startled look - then Ygraine's looking shocked for a wholly different reason, listening to the sounds coming over the radio feed. One hand rises to take firm hold of the lead linking her to Brian so that if he dashes off it won't be _her_ ear that suffers, but for the moment she's content to remain in place and look around for the best route out rather than simply setting off at random.

"Your secret's safe with me." Heather snickers, tossing the grin right back at Brian. "As long as you keep my secret too." She looks like she's about to say something else, but then mass chaos appears to come out of nowhere. At the same time, she reaches for her cell. Damn, no message. "Listen, you might want to get out of here. If the Senator's been shot…who knows what will happen next."

Some people are frozen in panic, others are rushing off away from the very slowly advancing wall of riot police trying to disperse the crowd. Flashing lights of police and rescue vehicles flood the streets as police cars surround the front of the NBC building, though none of them look to be in a dramatic hurry. Rather, it is the emergency medical crews that are rushing into the front lobby of the studio. Helicopers, once just news choppers circling overhead, are joined by police helicopers are a man calls out over the bullhorn, "Please vacate the premises of the demonstration immediately to allow emergency personnel entrance to the vicinity. I repeat, please vacate the premises of the demonstration immediately."

Trent looks around in a worried panic, but there seems to be no real present danger, just the urgency of law enforcement to disperse the crowd before it gets ugly. The teenagers who burned their registration cards start clearing out, moving into the crowds of other people heading across the blocked off street and away from their little rebellion. Trent, and his friends, are wildly listening to the radio, "Christ, oh christ this is insane…"

Giving a soft smile to Heather, his expression suddenly distorts at the reports of gunfire.. And the actual gunfire he hears in his other self. The inner-hero in the man drives the man to take a step closer to Heather, as if ready to block any bullets coming at her. "What are you going to do?" He asks to her as she suggests he leave.

Other Brian also gets protective, but of Ygraine. He doesn't rush off, quite the opposite. He remains stoically at Ygraine's side, looking up and around for any sign of other danger. Raising one hand he places it on the Brit's arm. "Maybe we should head out." He says softly.

Ygraine frowns deeply, quickly glancing around once more. "I'll be going that way", she replies, pointing in the general direction of her apartment block. "Just wanted to make sure that the Petrelli supporters aren't doing anything stupid before I risked moving towards them…" She does start off in the direction of home, though she seems more than a little dubious about how things might unfold.

"If I have to, I'll jump one of my own vortexes out of here." Heather replies, watching some of the crowd head the order. There's a few that don't, and she shoots them a stern look that seems to say 'move your ass now or I'll move it for you'. "Otherwise, I'm going to be headed somewhere away from here."

Trent and his friends begin to disperse, slipping into the ever growing crowd of people moving away from the site of demonstration. Searchlights flood the street as the helicopters overhead continue to both observe the chaos, and to the news choppers record the chaos. Police move in to the front of the television studio, securing the location even as local and federal agents blending into the scene of reported violence start trying to work out what happened here tonight.

As the block is evacuated, news broadcasts across the nation and beyond already begin to cover the video of the debate, and what actually transpired in the hall. A single gunman in the crowd, opening fire on Senator Allen Rickham, and in an instant it was Senator Nathan Petrelli who leaps from his podium between the two candidates, throwing himself between Rickham and the gunman, taking a bullet to protect the candidate's life.

Reports state the gunman was subdued, but Senator Petrelli's condition is unknown. Is it on the lips of everyone in the city of New York, and spreads like wildfire through homes and streets alike.

Senator Petrelli has been shot.

And the future has never been more uncertain.

This log runs concurrently with the Presidential Debate.

MANHATTAN - A man belonging to the same anti-Evolved organization responsible for the shootings at the Brooklyn Public Library earlier this month opened fire on Democratic candidate Allen Rickham during the final presidential debate last night, then fired repeatedly at two secret service agents who responded, critically wounding them. One of the agents returned fire, killing the suspect, whom the police later identified as Michael Austin, 34, of Brooklyn. The agents, Robert Mairot, 35, and Cassandra Carter, 42, were in critical but stable condition at St. Luke's Hospital last night. Also in stable condition was Senator Nathan Petrelli, who jumped in front of Senator Rickham to shield him from the gunfire, sustaining injuries in the process.

A spokesperson of the Petrelli campaign said Friday morning that the incident would not impede the Senator's bid for presidency and that he will be voting at the polls on Election Day, this November 4th.

Senator Rickham and Republican candidate Senator Andrew Mitchell were unharmed but unavailable for comment.

October 30th: Presidential Debate
October 30st: A Dead Horse
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