Chapter 34: Soapboxes Big and Small
“-has no demands. He’s calling for all of mutantkind to rebel and he’s chosen Manhattan to be his staging ground! I tell you, we should’ve eradicated all mutants when we had the chance!”
“You’re proving the man right and adding fuel to the fire. This is an exact replaying of the 60’s Civil Rights Movement, only scaled up on violence.”
“What the hell are you?! A mutie lover?! By God, the Church of Humanity has been right all along!”
“These people are merely isolationists: they’re fed up with their horrible treatment and want a home for themselves.”
“Not at the cost of millions of lives and trillions of dollars! Not on my watch! New York City is not some backwater track of land I’m willing to give up to appease some mutie! I have family there! I have investments there! We need to send Magnet Head or Mango or whatever he’s calling himself to Northern Alaska where he can take his mutie rejects and leave us normal folk in peace!”
“You’re proposing a mass exodus like when the United States put Native Americans on reservations? Tell me, how did that move work out?”
“Just fine! They were impeding our manifest destiny! We need a ri-”
Over a hundred people packed into the lobby of Frost Tower. Firemen stood shoulder to shoulder with the building’s security guards. Reporters actually stopped taking photos. Teary children hugged whoever was near: parents, ravers, policemen, rescue workers, homeless people. None had ever seen so much brutality, and the sight of their fellow man killed or killing sobered each individual in the room. They felt like victims of conquering armies, helpless and terrified. Some tried to be strong, but the surrounding despair--cries for absent parents, frantic cell phone calls to family--drained the optimism away. Windows revealed the ongoing apocalypse outside.
Motorists abandoned their cars.
A rail thin mutant strangled a woman.
His deformed friend sat on a newspaper stand and cheered him on.
Betsy meditated at the front entrance.
A bus lay on its side, its occupants either in this lobby or dead.
Cries for help went ignored, the plea too numerous to respond to.
A small fire from spilled gasoline winded its way through the streets like a bright snake.
And inside, every one kept an eye and an ear to the television.
“-bad business! We need the marines! We need fighter jets! Let’s see how this maniac responds to fifty caliber bullets!”
“Are you insane? We’ve seen his response time and time before and it’s never been positive for the armed forces. Violence is not the answer.”
“Violence is the only answer! We’re through talking and being peaceful because that’s what got us here today!”
“Your lack of-”
Emma turned off the annoying, cross-fire debate. All sound faded away with the television. “Well, at least we know why mutants are tearing through the city.”
The paramedic, the one with the last name of Carter, spoke for each person in the room. “Aren’t you a mutant?”
Fateful acts came in two flavors: the insignificant yet remarkable or the significant and remarkable. To admit or not to admit--this was Emma’s moment of truth, her very significant, very remarkable fateful decision. The Dark Beast already let out the can of worms, and if she ran, she’d spend forever and a day running from this moment.
Moments of truth had a way of haunting liars like that.
A portion of these people saw her assume her diamond body to fight off the demons, but her strengthened telepathy could erase their memories; however, others not in here could’ve witnessed her transformation. Cameras, so many cameras at the crash site--how many were live? How many weren’t destroyed? How many people here had picture of her shining body? Denial tempted Emma. While it wasn’t the best solution, it was the easiest because it only addressed the present.
She found the present easier to face when the future didn’t factor in.
If she denied the fact, what kind of example would she set to her students? What kind of person would she be? She’d be the White Queen, the woman she hated, the one who let down every child who believed in her. The new leaf she turned over would blow away and leave her with nothing to show for. That was the price of denial, and the reward? Nothing, or nothing guaranteed. She could still lose her company. These people would still be skeptical. The proof would still be out there.
She cloaked herself in the White Queen but didn’t let the persona dictate her actions. Her back straightened. Her eyes acquired a hue of steel. She exuded an aura of command and nobility. This was her sanctuary, her palace, and these, like it or not, were her subjects.
“I am a mutant,” confirmed Emma. Before the admission sunk in, she went on the offensive and leveled her fiercest glare at the crowd.
“Are you surprised that I’d offer protection to humans?” she demanded. “Do you think my goodwill is actually a trap?”
Some looked away.
“Of course you do,” she mocked, “mutants are monsters. We don’t have hearts, we don’t have families, we don’t have dreams, we don’t have lives. We’re just your worst nightmares come true. It’s fine that you look at us like pariahs. It’s fine you fear us. We’re mutants and we’re beyond help, beyond mercy, beyond your wildest imagination, fucked up freaks.”
Disgusted at the stunned silence, the blonde shook her head. “The sad truth is that we are all those things. We’re that and much worse not because of our genetics but because of your treatment. Mutants are monsters because you force the role upon them. Magneto is the manifestation of your bigotry and this destruction is the backlash against your cruelty.
“Me? I am a mutant, but I refuse be anyone’s buffoon. I refuse to propagate the mess your shoddy treatment has started. I refuse to follow Magneto’s ludicrous battle cry. I can’t decide how I was born, but I can decide what I will become.
“I am a mutant. I am a businesswoman. I am a teacher. I live, I breathe, I feel, I hope, I hurt, I succeed, and I fail, just like everyone here. I know wrong when I see it, and this bedlam outside is wrong. There is no way declaring war on humans will accomplish anything but the total annihilation of both sides. Not every mutant wants to rule the world or kill all you ‘flatscans.’ I will not stoop to the pathetic level of dogmatists like the Church of Humanity or Magneto. I am better than them, and if I must use kindness to spite their ilk, then I will.”
The tension thickened so much it weighed down on everyone’s lungs. “Look around you,” Emma commanded. A few hesitant, glassy eyes stared into hopeless ones. “This is how most mutants live--packed together in fear, hoping that they’ll survive the day. How’s the role reversal? Does it feel good to know the very next slip up can be your last? Don’t you want your children to grow up cowering till the end of their sad little existences? No, of course not.
“So why am I saving your lives? Because I know the terror you feel and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone else, mutant or human. Because in order to change your stubborn minds about mutants, I have to start somewhere. Because I hate Magneto for single-handedly putting our progress toward a peaceful coexistence into the stone age. Because while humanity itself has wronged me, none of you have.”
Paramedic Carter cringed.
“Ah,” Emma smiled, “except for him, but I can forgive simpletons.”
Getting off her high horse, she sauntered to the front entrance where Betsy sat. Most, still shocked over her words, parted. Some, respect and gratitude in their eyes, nodded at her. A few, curious and leery, blocked her way.
“What’s your mutant power?”
A woman, and if the voice recorder sticking out of her pocket was any indication, one of the handful of reporters in the room. Her city had been taken over by mutants, she’d escaped doom not thirty minutes ago, and all she wanted was the scoop.
Just throwing her existence away for her job, wasn’t she?
Emma respected the reporter’s audacity. She also used her utter stupidity.
“I can turn my body to diamond,” the blonde answered, shifting before the reporter for good measure. “The ability becomes rather impressive because I lose none of my speed or flexibility and retain the strength and durability of this precious stone. Is that sufficient for you?”
And like a chastised child, the reporter stepped aside.
What a boon--got that underlying question out of the way, settled the unsettled people, and avoided lying by not revealing the whole truth. True, she was also a telepath, but no one needed to know. If by chance they’d get out of this jam alive, the admission of such a socially acceptable power would set many investors, employees, and nosy people at ease. She’d be the family friendly mutant, and the image suited her fine if it gave her an edge against those who’d wish her fortune gone.
Happy day.
“Umm, what’s that other woman doing?”
The reporter again, and this time, she bridged the gap from useful to annoying. “Saving your worthless life,” sneered Emma as she returned to her normal state of being.
Everyone resumed the quiet whispers amongst themselves, Emma Grace Frost the subject of their talks and gazes. Meanwhile, Emma only had eyes for one person.
*You’re straining, Betsy.*
Her fellow mutant shifted her body to get more comfortable. *I’ll have you know psychically discouraging everyone in the vicinity to ignore a building is hard work.*
*We can switch off.*
*No. Just don’t bother me and I’ll be fine. Keeps my mind off of Belasco.*
Damn it, Emma was never good at this affection stuff. She wanted to say something inspiring, but her considerable vocabulary didn’t wake up. Seemed as if no words embodied the encouragement, faith, and strength she wanted to convey.
*The sentiments across the bond are enough,* Betsy said, *The feeling is mutual.*
*I’m turning into a romantic sap.*
*Don’t worry--I can’t associate you with bad poetry, walks on the beach, or old 80’s love songs just yet.*
*And don’t ever.*
Breaking away from Betsy’s smug laughter, Emma brought herself back to the crowd. She had to do something about this packed place. Mutants and demons came in all shapes, sizes, and powers. Who knew if any of them could see through Betsy’s psychic ruse and charge the place? If that happened, fending off whatever attacks while keeping people alive would be impossible.
“Everyone, up to the second floor,” she boomed, pointing at the elevators and staircases. “Stay away from all the windows, and by God, don’t do anything stupid like run outside or steal my property.”
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- To be continued...
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