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Simon Gordon's little movement actually started 25 years ago, so he claims. When the then unknown force of the Terminus invaded Earth. Millions died. All because of the Terminus. It was found later on that there were 'sleeper agents' born of the incident. Children of the Terminus. Some used their powers for good, others for evil. But Simon Gordon knew the truth. They were all lying in wait. They would call down the thunder again. It was only a matter of time.


Simon found like minded folks. Some with fervent belief. And then his message began to spread. He was a leader. Over the past few months, Humans Against Terminus ERuptionS - a term that Gordon cooked up himself after people called their group 'haters' - grew in size and visibility. The HATERS went national Simon got the ear of media. Suddenly everyone knew a little bit about the Terminus. Enough to know that a scary dark invasion was bound to happen. How the public perceived it was split. Though most saw it as a tinfoil conspiracy theory, others knew such things could happen!


March 17, 2018. Noon.


Simon was going to educate the masses, personally. He advertised a meeting in Liberty Park. His like-minded would come, but he wanted his detractors to come. He wanted the fence sitters and unknowing to come. He would explain how the HATERS's goals and ideology.


There was a small stage with a banner above it reading HATERS. No one was on there, but there was a large group of people swarmed around it. The presentation would be starting in thirty minutes.

Edited by Squish
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Mike stood shoulders hunched and head stooped, almost as if against the chill late winter weather though despite the light hunter green cardigan he didn't feel the chill at all.  He'd made an effort when he heard about these sorts of events to be near at hand ever since the incident at AEON.  Alex and those kids, 'kids' not even ten years his junior to be honest, had handled that episode with minimal collateral damage.  But it was clear there were some TEMS affected that took a more violent opposition to this rhetoric, he wanted to be close just in case.  Hands stuffed in the pockets of his Khaki dockers he looked every inch the uncertain school teacher not wanting to be associated with such virulent hate but curious about it none the less.


He'd heard the speeches enough times to know by now the reasons, and he couldn't argue there wasn't validity in part.  The power he and his kind shared were terrifying the hands of evil.  But the powers were just powers, the people behind them no more or less evil than any other segment of the population.  He apologized as a an exuberant devotee to the cause bumped into him and took a step back, "ahh sorry about that didn't mean to be in the way."  only to be quickly dismissed as the man went on to explain to his companion hoe the peaker today really 'Got It.' on a level the government and those nerds at ASTRO labs that claimed t-babies were not a hazard never could.

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Steve was not having a good day. 


"Yes, I agree," he was saying, with perhaps more force than usual. "It is absolutely imperative that we do everything we can to prevent another Terminus invasion." He was staring at the man with the "9/11 Was A Inside Job" ballcap with a sinking heart, heedless of the snow piling up on his bald head. "And it is entirely possible that entropic mutants are being used as pawns by the forces of the Terminus in order to infiltrate this world." After all, that had happened before, on countless worlds besides this one. "But do you have any evidence?" he said, pointing to the television still playing a DVD he judged to have been produced on a home electronics set. "This is not evidence." 


"I'm just asking questions, man," said Ballcap, folding his arms and giving Steve a suspicious look. "You some kind of T-Baby lover?" 


Steve stared at the man, considering his responses, and said, "No." Ballcap did not keep speaking. 


"We have to _do_ something," repeated the Ballcap's red-faced female partner for the fourth time in as many minutes. "They're going to take us over and destroy us! Sending them back to the Terminus is the only safe solution!" 


"That is not a safe solution at all!" said the former Omegadrone, raising his voice again more than he usually did with civilians. "Beyond questions of guilt or innocence, increasing the size of the armies of the Terminus will only speed the entropic death of the multiverse and the prosecution of the Omnicide!" People were beginning to stare at the big man raising his voice; but on the other hand, given the volume coming from others, he wasn't the only shouter. With a disgusted look on his face, he turned and walked away. 


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With a hood pulled up and oversized sunglasses, Alex's disguise was minimal at best but the occasional gentle psychic nudge kept most people from looking too closely. She was well aware that her presence might incite the crowd if it was remarked on, but it was her particular cause. The fear and hate of the crowd battered at her mental shields in an exhausting tide. Silently, she slipped her hand into Mike's much larger one with her lips compressed into a flat line. Squeezing his hand, she drew on the mental anchor of their psychic bond to bolster her senses against the panic. 


This is worse than usual, Alex's mental tone was bleak. Devoid of her usual cheer. She took these demonstrations personally, not only because of who and what she was, but her the failure to stem the tide of fear always registered as a personal failing. Alex always did take too much on her shoulders. It's troubling. The children of our generation are just old enough to start having their own offspring. Modeling terminus-energies in second and third generation offspring is, well, troublesome to say the least, but chances are good that there will be another handful like us; different from birth.


Alex did not add that their own future offspring would almost certainly be among that number but it certainly colored her mental tones with a more personal shade of worry. Children should get to be children, Mike.

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Dancia stood at the back of the crowd on the watch out for any trouble whilst she did her other job, the one that paid the bills and kept Centurion in cat food. This was after a frustrating hour of trying to get a statement from the founder of this movement to find out his real thoughts on the subject, unlike many journalists she wanted to know the truth on the matter. Whilst she had no love for the Terminus, they had destroyed her homeworld after all, but this felt like an overreaction blaming the victims for the problems.


But for better or worse they deserved to be heard and that was her job so here she stood taking it all in to write about later in the most balanced way she could manage.

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Looking down at Alex with concern Mike shook his head softly, And we'll make sure they get to be.  He assured her his touch on her thoughts a stalwart vow.  He looked out across the gathered throng rapidly sorting through the hundreds of conversations listening for signs of something out of the ordinary for these events something to hint at anything more sinister than the fearful proclamations of the frightened and confused attendees.  


They are frightened, and easily led astray by that fear.  He repeated back to her the mantra she'd told him so many times when they were younger facing adults uncertainties and fears about the burgeoning powers of their charges.  We'll show them a better way and in time they will understand.  His thoughts carried both the weight of the responsibility he felt for doing just that as well as the unassailable confidence that in the end the good hearted people would win out over fear and doubt.

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Sitting by himself on a park bench and being glared at by many of the passersby, Steve ate a corndog with a scowl on his face. They think me their enemy. If they only knew. The truth was he had a very good reason for not revealing his identity, and that was because of the scars he saw on those around him. It would be pleasant to imagine that these people were all simply misled by the media of this Earth but he knew that was simply false; he had seen the too-familiar wounds on some, the injuries that would never fully heal despite all the powers of this dimension, and the look in the eye that meant scars that ran deep there as well - the scars that meant the debt that could never be repaid. What could I do? Frighten them? Tell them that the real monsters of the Terminus are far more terrifying than the unhappy victims of entropic mutation? He disposed of his corndog, and began drinking from a large soda cup. 

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