Freaks Of Human Nature


adelaide_icon.gif gin_icon.gif luther_icon.gif renard_icon.gif

Scene Title Freaks of Human Nature
Synopsis Who says an Evolved isn't natural? Who says the cruelty of human kind is?
Date August 8, 2010

Northern Brooklyn

Brooklyn's success and survival as a borough following the nuclear explosion in 2006 in Midtown Manhattan is driven by three main factors: the performance of the national and city economy, population flows and the borough's position as a convenient back office for New York's businesses. All of these factors only became more prominent after the destruction of Manhattan's heart and the influx of residents from Staten Island and Manhattan caused a surge in economic growth in the region. Brooklyn is one of the few playes in New York that, largely, has improved since the bomb.

New construction in Brooklyn's northern side is a booming industry and it's hard to go too far in the borough without seeing a banner that denotes an upcoming construction brought by the Linderman Group or the Maxwell Construction Corporation. With much of Manhattan's infrastructure demolished and Queens in utter financial ruin, it has fallen on this industrious and thriving community to try and pull the weight of the rest of the city.

While much of Brooklyn is economically thriving, the region is beginning to suffer from overpopulation and crowding, and like much of the rest of New York City it has an exceptionally high rate of homeless. Shanty towns and tent cities are a common site in vacant lots and under bridges. For as much as Brooklyn is thriving, it's still a part of a crumbling city that is dragging it down.

They say that you are judged, every day, by those around you. No matter the social class, age, rage, gender even sexuality, every day, every single little second that ticks on by from the clock, complete strangers are judging other complete strangers as they pass by each other in the street.

The socialite, born to wealth with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth and flashbulbs going off in her face judging the next one who married into it and knows what it's like to wait on tables. The children on the school playground who ring around the odd one out, poking with fingers both physical and verbal and mentally mark them for life. The working class who walks down the street, averting eyes from the homeless man who waits with a cardboard sign and a quiet repetitive plea for any spare change.

These days, you include the individuals who see who can do things extraordinary. With the events of the past year though, the dislike that isn't just visible by those who would claim they are card carrying members of Humanis First. Evolved destroyed midtown, destroyed some sites of the city the January of last year and the other night, razed parts of Staten Island. Tensions between those who are genetically marked the SLC complex and those without, has risen to an all time high. Today is really no different in this wet afternoon in Brooklyn, surrounded by various business's, cars, parks and homes.

Walking. She shoulders a pocketbook & a backpack. Adelaide walks down the two the wet sky-crying. She passes people quietly fingering a chain around her necklace, and the violin case she carries.

Stepping out of a store, Gin is just pulling a cigarette out of a new pack, pulling out a box of matches to lit it with rather than a lighter. She's dressed in old clothes, probably salvaged from Good Will or something like that, judging by their wear and tear. And as she heads out onto the street, some might note the lack of femininity in her walk. A walk that's more of a stalk, really.

Emerging from Prospect Park is a small but predatory pack of executive types. Four larger, black-suited men with broad shoulders form a perimeter around the fifth member, a better dressed and slightly smaller man. Four black briefcases swing in unison, and four pairs of sunglass shrouded eyes keep watch. In the center, the handsome executive is walking along, his attention seemingly focused on the smartphone in his hand. One might guess this little group is headed for the subway, but their destination is unclear.

Few know the feeling of judgment more than the homeless. Those who have it the worst of the lot, arguably, are those who were rendered such through the extraordinarily unfortunate circumstances of the Bomb. It is these individuals who have joined a mass of the destitute, the ignored, the scorned. Even amongst those, the Evolved who have hidden themselves amidst the crowd. As just one of those ignored and grubby faces, Luther likely doesn't even get noticed as he stands by the corner of the very store Gin steps out of. He is an urban chameleon, only vaguely by choice.

"Hey lady," he calls to the stalking woman. "Spare a stick?" On the streets, a cigarette may as well be a roll of change.

Like prey sensing the predator, the emergence of the suited men draws a few looks that way, including one from Luther.

Pitter patter goes the rain, down on the people who go about their lives and pooling in places where potholes lurk on unsuspecting vehicles, to spray passerby's when busses trundle along to pick up the inhabitants. One bus does stop, the red and blue of the metro pulling up to a stop to disgorge a woman and her child, both in rain slickers.

The older pausing to flick open an umbrella to stave off the rain from her and her daughter. The younger of the pair carrying a Disney Princess lunchbox, small kids backpack half hanging off her shoulder from the pink plastic slicker, taking the moment to giggle and thump a foot down onto a puddle. "Adele, don't do that" She's admonished, taking her daughters hand and moving forward to let others off.

Three teenagers get off, two guys and a girl, all dry as a bone for now, sweater hoods up and over their head, the standard white snake of earbud cords unraveling out from their hoodies and elbowing each other, pointing to the woman and her child with a sneer.

As the executives emerge from the the part she raises an eyebrow. She moves closer to the park and sets up her violin case. It's odd mix… the player is an attractive well-kept young woman, with an expensive violin. She turns at the woman calling out to an Adele, smiling moment at the girl and her mother, and then her face falls. She begins to play the violin as he rain begins to fall..

Turning at the call her way, Gin takes a moment to look over the homeless man. She looks annoyed, unapologetically so. "Will it get you out of my face?" She asks as she pulls out another cigarette to pass Luther's way.

When the rain picks up a little bit, the center executive puts away his expensive smart-phone. This is a cue for all five of them to open matching black umbrellas to guard against the rain. They move as a group towards the sidewalk, as if waiting for a car or other transportation to arrive. It seems that way, they way they keep eyes on the road.

In contrast to Gin's bitter tasting answer, Luther bobs his head in surface apology. A low thanks mumbles out of the man; he doesn't bother asking for a light, tucking away the stick into his curled hand. Transaction finished, the man is keen on melting back towards the brickwork when the bus arrives. Not his route. The little Adele splashing in a puddle draws out in him a discomfited twitch of buried memory, of grief that still squeezes within. The expression soon washes away, though, replaced with observatory suspicion for the three hooded teens. The homeless guy looks unbothered by the clouds choosing that moment to drip upon the world.

Across the street mother and daughter go, no more than four years old and regardless of her mothers caution, she's still smacking a foot down into the puddles with unhindered and innocent glee. "Adele. Stop that please, you're going to get me wet. We need to wait for the next bus" Which would be why they're moving across the street, away from Gin and Luther and the cigarette request and snark. Away from Renard and his bodyguards so crisp in their suits despite the rain or the sound from Adelaides violin that screeches in protest to the rain that it's mistress tries to make her play in the weather.

The teenagers gather near Luther, one of them bringing out smokes too that are likely bought through an adult or fake ID. Posturing so insolent in their age and immaturity. "Mommy! Nemo! Can I watch Nemo while we wait! Please, please, please, please" She begs over and over until with a loving roll of her eye's, and both of them sitting down, the mother turns her palm over. A few moments later, a silent version of Nemo is playing in the air above her palm. Adele's mother is evolved.

Near Gin and Luther, the teenagers go still, one of them elbowing another, the female in the group snickering and pointing.

As the rain starts to fall the violinist, places her instrument back in its case. Adelaide sighs. "Man, ruined." she whispers. She closes it up and crouches to open the backpack, and fish out a bright pink umbrella of the fushcia variety. She opens it and closes up 'shop'. Watching the black suits-uniformed unison she raises an eyebrow. The teens are given a brief glance. "If only.." she murmurs. She looks down and checks her watch.

Gin's attention drops from Luther when that exchange is over, but she does follow the path of the mother and daughter… and scowls when the mother displays that power so blatantly. Ugh. She doesn't seem to mind getting wet as she steps out into it to head down the sidewalk. In Renard's direction, incidentally.

She notices the mother and daughter as the video starts playing for a moment she thought it might be a phone, but does a small double take. "Adele.." she mumurs. There's a momentary frown. "Mom." she mutters shouldering her bag. She stands not too far away from them intending to get on the bus herself.

The executive in the center checks his watch, distinguished by his finer suit with pinstripes. The black suited men surrounding him turn to face the road and park, dividing their attention into the different directions. Between the four of them they aren't getting caught by surprise. At the sound of the conversation and the Nemo-playing, the red-headed businessman turns his attention that a way. Then he looks to the punks congregating.

Luther catches a breath as he too sees the blatant use of the woman's ability in public, becoming somewhat alarmed for her. As the teens take a more avid interest in the woman and her daughter, he becomes even more tweaked at their behavior. "Yo kid," pipes up the homeless guy once more in his best growling tough pitch to get the trio's attention, "gimme them smokes." He doesn't stop there though, stepping up to make a swipe for the pack, all with the intent to distract them away.

"What the fuck man" The tallest and skinniest of the group cluthcing his ill gotten smoke close to chest. "Go get a fucking job you fucking. get your own god damned smoke" Bravado leaving the trio, just enough spine left to stand their ground as Luther makes a move towards them, one of the flicking out their phone, likely tweeting about homeless guy being an asshole.

Most of the people who notice the commotion, so intent on the teenagers, they don't see the two construction guys who walks past the woman and her daughter, the young girl leaning forward and intent on what her mother is showing her. He does a double take before circling back, and coming to the bench they sit on. "Jesus christ, Lookit this Bill. The freaks, always flashing about what they can do. Don't have the decency to just hide it. Saw a fucking flyer the other day"

His buddy circles around to behind the woman even as a couple other construction workers, their hard hats and steel toe boots come around a corner from a project nearby. "Hey joe, we got a live one here, a lady and her kid. Real special" Which oly draws the attention of his other buddies. A swat of the hand to the woman disrupts what she's showing her child and the little girl looks up to the men, shuffling a little closer to her mother.

Those construction workers harassing the mother and child make Gin stop in her tracks and turn around to watch them. She's not riding to the rescue, that's for sure, but she is watching. Mostly, she watching to see how the mother reacts. But Luther harassing the kids is a closer problem, and she steps over to grab the homeless guy by the arm. "The hell's wrong with you," she hisses at him.

Renard is exactly the kind of white knight that would rescue a lady in distress. He nods to the four men in his entourage, and they move together toward the poor single mother and her poor child. Renard leads, the group moving together with wolfish kind of precision. One of them clicks a Bluetooth in his ear, and speaks indistinctly as they walk.

Black umbrellas are shaken off, and the fabric strapped down. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." Renard's voice is smooth, cultured, and aristocratic. Also French-accented, which only adds to the aura of sophistication which contrasts strongly with the construction worker's blue collar voices. He steps in with his entourage, cutting off the two harassing the woman from their reinforcements coming around the corner. "I think that it would be in everyone's interest for you and your friends to go have a drink now."

He turns his head to the single mother, a soothing smile on his face. "Madame, could I offer you and the petite belle a ride? My car will be along in just a moment." He stays calm, and lets his confidence carry the projection of his strength. Having four big beefy guys backing you probably helps.

Good. Well, almost good. Teenagers somewhat deterred, Luther appears to give up the ruse and begins to move on. The plan seems to have worked, except for that one little niggling detail: Gin. Her grab for his arm turns his attention back upon the brusque woman with a scrunched brow.

"What? I was just tryin' to get a few more smokes for the road." Uh huh. "So, you can let go now."

He'd say more, but the commotion is growing over at that bus stop. Even with Gin holding his arm, the homeless man looks for the moment, distracted with the presences of the suited men and the construction workers who've stopped to convene around the mother and child.

"Bet he's a freak too" Comes from one of the other individuals, the five construction guys not at all intimidated by the suited and breifcase bearing individuals and the poofy - to them - guy who rests within the middle. "Fuck off, it's none of your business, little lady is gonna stay where she is."

"Woman wants to show the world what she can do, she can show us, that's what the freaks wanna do right? Belonging to the groups that want to blow the city up, already destroyed half the city"

The men still circle the woman and her kid much like Renards quartet circle him. Inside the not so protective circle, the little girl is clutched to her mother, looking back and forth as each side becomes vocal, her hands covering her daughters ears as if that might alone, block out the sounds of the swearing.

"We don't need more fucked up people in the city, sure as hell don't need them breeding. Kids probably a freak as well. Good thing about the registration is that now we know how to tell them apart" says another, smacking his hand down on the back of the bus stop seat, not touching the woman but making her jump even as anxiety paints a watercolor across the womans face and her daughters. Not literally.

The teenagers by now, for all that they pointed before, are scampering away from the scene and away from Lucas, their smokes dropped to the ground.

Gin does let him go, but with a shove rather than nicely like some people might. Her gaze follows his over to the commotion, and she frowns deeply. She steps toward that direction, apparently intent on getting her two cents in. "Doesn't look like they're gonna stop until they destroy the whole city." Oh, and perhaps egg the men on a little.

Renard smiles very faintly, continuing to speak very calmly, but without passivity. "Men, you are frightening this poor woman and her child. In addition, you have already committed assault against her person. As a gentleman, I cannot in good conscience allow you to harm her or her child. In fact, I've already contacted the police, and they are en route. You might wish to leave before they arrive."

The four black suited men glance between each other very briefly. They look also to Renard in their center, and of course the rough-looking construction crew. They look like lean, sleek murder machines in comparison to the thick, middle aged construction crew. They grip their umbrellas in one hand each, at their sides.

Luther stumbles a pace off at the shove. Unhurt in nothing but pride, he frowns in Gin's direction as well when she moves closer to the gathered. His gaze strays downwards, an inward debate ensuing. The man stoops to pick up the cigarette pack. The pack gets a squeeze. A decision is made.

Unable to leave well enough alone - perhaps in lack of better judgment - Luther stalks after Gin and also towards the men gathered. His pace picks up, intent on surpassing the rude woman who grabbed him. Once within arm's reach to the nearest suit, he's roughly shoving his way into the mix and doesn't intend to stop until he's in the thick of it. "Alright, break it up," he states with a forcefulness born of authoritative training, albeit grated off with time. "We got enough troubles in this town without needing a bunch of asshats like you boys pickin' on women and children." He picks the biggest of the bunch to level upon him a defiant stare.

Things are going from bad to worse. Luther's approach drawing the attention of the construction workers from the woman and her child, which between Luther and Renards suits might provide a result all on it's own as the man starts to shoulder his way past two of the men to get between them and the construction hatted individuals as Gin provides encouragement for the hot headed men with their not so friendly intentions.

This gives the woman and her daughter a chance to bolt, a disney princess lunch box and umbrella abandoned in their wake as she snatches her daughter up into her arms and bolts away and around the construction workers to place Renard, his goons and Luther between her and the men.

"Please, I would appreciate it" Stammering to Renard as she takes him up on his offer, the wail of the littel girl starting up, muffled in the shoulder of the rain slickers. This leaves a face off, the source of the conflict out of the picture for the most part despite the looks shunted her way by the construction workers. Some mangled modern west side story with Maria played by Luther. Renard's men on one side, construction guys on the other, Luther in the middle.

And Gin off to the side, smoking her cigarette and watching. She's not amused, she's not angry… she's indifferent. Well, mostly indifferent. She starts off down the street, letting the groups of men face off. Her commentary on the subject? She spits on the group near where Renard and the mother and daughter have gathered. But that seems as aggressive as she's getting right now, as she just keeps on walking.

Renard accepts the little girl and her mother into his knot before retreating. The hobo thrown into the midst of the construction workers should slow them down enough to allow for a retreat to safer territory. Which is good timing, because that is when two black SUVs finally arrive. The little girl and mother climb into one, with Renard following. The security entourage also boards the SUVs. They leave.

Moment of bravado dwindling with the escape of the mother and daughter, Luther clears his throat. Right then. The only problem now is he's left without possibility for back up. And five riled construction workers. Luther takes a breath. "All right then. You all get along, now." Only, he's the first to take the step back away from the others.

NO advancing of the construction men, remaining spot and staring down Luther almost as if daring him to either keep backing up or to come forward. Before the mother is whisked away though, she startles at Gin and her wad of spittle that nears her and her daughter. So much hate in the city and yet, two men, showed quite the opposite.

The lack of advancing on him is a good thing, for Luther. He takes another couple of steps back before turning his back on the guys and walking at a brisk pace away. Looks like he's really going to need those smokes as soon as he turns the corner.

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