Human watching was inspirational. People had been coming and going all day. The exposure had to be great for this Thirsty’s bar. It was amazing to see how many people had to be near the reporter. Most spectators, others witnesses, some with wildly different stories lining up for their turn.
Scarlet cloaked by the hard light projector, worked the paints across the canvas as she tried to capture not just the imagery, but the hot and cold energies of the spectacle. These were times where she reveled in the technology her people allowed her to keep. These angry faces that decried anything other than a ‘pure’ human. How would they react to the looming arachnid that leaned over them to capture exactly how they contorted their faces in rage. To them, Scarlet was nothing more than a phantom sensation. Some trick of the wind as they howled at counter protesters.
Then it happened. The woman in the video who ran with the porcupine man walked past the crowd. She was slight in build, but clearly athletic. Howls from the anti-metahuman protesters swelled. They called her a traitor, and a monster. The rage roiled off them like water blossoming into steam as it touched a hot pan.It was impossible to hear over the protesters. Tucking her paint and canvas behind a nearby bench and the river’s guard railing, Scarlet made her way around the smaller of the two groups, and up along a nearby wall. One of the great debates of the Thadmar, her people, why were women blessed with six legs and two arms, while men had four and four? The science was beyond her, but six legs meant not getting one’s hand dirty when walking along walls or upside down, so, better for her.
“The man these people are hunting wasn’t a monster. He didn’t hurt me, or anyone else. What’s not in that video that started all of this was that he was shielding someone who had been trampled. That monster as these people call him saved someone’s life two days ago, and no one is talking about it, because it’s not on camera.” Scarlet liked this woman, her face glowed with passion.
“Who here can say they have lifted another person’s body and carried them to a hospital because no car would stop for them, no bus would let them on?”
“That’s an amazing story, but how can you prove it?”
“The man’s name is Clayton Jones. He’s checked into the Wellspring Emergency Care, I spoke to him before coming here, and he’s willing to corroborate everything.”
The reporter woman reaches to her ear. “Bennie, Bennie, get someone over to Wellspring, now. No, I don’t care, no one else is covering this, we have the story.”Just as she finishes speaking she disappears just for a moment as blasts of energy pepper where she and witness woman were standing.
“She’s a freak like the rest of them.” A man in white armor hovers over the street. “She is part of the modern plague, and I am the Cure.” The armored human’s voice is robotic, but Scarlet’s attention turns to the reporter who seems to reappear in the arms of someone flickering in and out of space. The blue suited man, Amber woman, and reporter woman have done no harm. The Cure seems to care very little about who is hurt. Adjusting her light patch to craft a webbing of hard light draws the Cure to the ground.
“Careful Mr. The Cure, you may harm innocent people. There is no need for violence when only stories are being shared.” There are gasps from both protester and counter protester as Scarlet, now visible to everyone, speaks. Some scream in terror, others that she should go back to Mars. This seemed particularly hurtful, as while the Thadmar survivors did continue on to Mars, she herself had not been to the planet.
Shouldering into the webbing, Cure breaks free unleashing another barrage of energy blasts from his armor this time at Scarlet. Activating a shield, the centaur-like spider mitigates the blast.
“Hey top cop, why don’t you pick on someone your own size.” P-Q charges into Cure’s side the hoodie and trench coat he had been wearing to hide himself eviscerated as he drives a elbow full of quill into Cure’s armored clavicle. Rolling, Cure throws P-Q off as both stand. A shard of keratin still wedged between articulated metal plates.
“As feral as presented, the beast reveals themselves.” Inhibitor bands, designed to suppress metahuman abilities, snaps into Cure’s hand. “Let’s get you collared and tagged, pup.”
With a flaming kick to the back, Firebrand emerges. Having used the spectacle of it Amber had disappeared. With different hair, eyes, and the mask, it’s not like Tootie had revealed anything about herself, other than to Breakthrough and P-Q at least.
Spinning around a lance of energy arcs out indiscriminately. Scarlet moves her light wall to protect the bystanders. Firebrand delivers a swift kick to the back of Cure’s knees. This delivers Cure into a brutal uppercut from P-Q.
“I’ll take it from here!” Breakthrough flashes through lifting Cure as he sprints though sending the armored foe past the gathering, through the metal safety rails and into the Ohio. Skidding to a stop he teetered to avoid falling himself.
Whatever calculations needed to be made, Cure opted not to return to the fight. With the distance made between the others, they activated their propulsion systems fleeing the engagement.
In the aftermath P-Q approached Scarlet.
“Hey, thanks for the assist. Not sure what I could have done to help if you hadn’t brought that guy down to the street.” There was no hesitation as he proffered a hand. Scarlet had to think about it for a moment, so few humans were willing to extend their greetings to her.
“Thank you, clothes ripping man. I was working on a painting, but when Mr. The Cure arrived, I realized I could help.” Scarlet pointed to her art supplies, still tucked away.
Breakthrough and Firebrand joined the pair, Vic adding. “Painting?” He looked at the crowd gathered. Flickering out momentarily, he returned with the canvas. On one side anti-metahuman protesters stood covering their eyes and screaming as if in pain. On the other, counter protesters stood, ears covered holding their hearts up. “What were you going to call the painting, hear no evil, see no truth?”
Not understanding the joke or sarcasm, Scarlet responded. “A rejection of light and reflection.”
“That’s a good name.” Firebrand looked at people coming together to make sure others were safe or uninjured. “That’s really good.”
“Meet Central City’s newest team of heroes, the Rejects.” It was at that moment, the four realized that everything was caught on the WSBK cameras, and apparently Sarah Scott was not about to run away from a good story. The reporter straightened her suit jacket, patting down her hair as she spoke.
“People call me Scarlet, or sometimes Charlotte.” She said to the others. “Does this mean we’re superheroes now?”
“Maybe so, If you want to be…” Vic smiled as Firebrand and P-Q looked dumbstruck at the camera.
“I think I would like that very much.” Scarlet responded without hesitation. “Does reject also mean hero in this language?”
Snapping out of the shock of what was happening, P-Q looked over to Scarlet. “All too often. Today though, let’s take the win.”
