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Moira Morley

The New White Knights

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GM

Disclaimer: this thread will have politically incorrect white 'nationalist' villains that get punched in the face. No one writing here agrees with the very few things these idiots will be spouting.

 

DJ Eclectic's concert was in need of a venue and Moira loved the idea of live music. Especially when it helped the local talent out! So posters were plastered all over the city. Every pole had at least one. Friday, June 16th. 9PM. Morley's pub. West End. Free admission." Below that was in a smaller font was the address. Blow that in the same sized font was Two Drink Minimum.

 

White Knight II (Aidan Miller) looked at the poster with a sigh, letting out some curse word when he saw the poster with DJ Eclectic's face on it. "Like why do they even let people like her even work here?" His bodyguard, Big Girl (Mary Forth), and his yes man, Southern Charm (George Kent), nodded in agreement. "I don't know about you two," Aidan said scratching his chin, "but maybe we should make an appearance." George beamed, "like our constituents did with the park play. We could reach a lot of people." Mary grinned and nodded silently. "So, all for one and one for all then," Aidan checked his watch, "we have about four hours. Let's go plan out speech."

 

Later That Evening, 15 minutes before the show

 

DJ Eclectic's crew was setting up the equipment, and there was quite a crowd coming to see her! Moira was tending bar. DJ Eclectic was tending to set up, rehearsing while doing a sound check. Spitfire was conversing with folks in the crowd, being part of the crowd himself.

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Asli Sadik moved through the crowd, shaking hands and laughing with the assembled hip hop fans. She was dressed in her usual heavy clothes, a distinct contrast to the brief outfits most of the bar was wearing, but she had accessorized with a sparkly gray-white scarf, which sat on top of her jacket. It was a little thing, but it was emblematic of why everyone was here.

 

"DJ!" A yell brought her over to one table where a knot of young people with dark skin were waiting for the concert to begin. The young man who had called out to her had a large gold stud on one ear and a GWAR tee-shirt, but he was hardly the most outrageous dressed person in the room. "DJ Eclectic, it's such a great thing to see you out here. I loved your March on East Coast album! Do you think you could, uh." He fumbled in his jacket pocket and brought out a CD case with a younger Asli on it, posed with her foot descending on the Capitol building.

 

Inwardly Asli winced to see her punkier stuff brought out but she was a performer, after all. "Always happy to meet a fan," she said, grabbing one of the gel pens in her pocket. It wasn't the usual black markers normally used to sign things. For tonight only she had gel pens of the same sparkly gray-white as her scarf, and she signed across the surface of the jewel case with a flourish. "Keep up with the beat!" she said and pressed the case back into the man's hand before moving on.

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While not his usual scene, Maxie had been cooped up in his trailer as of late since returning to Freedom City and started to get a little stir crazy.  He liked all types of music, but was partial to the heavier rock and metal, but that didn't stop him from appreciating a good beat or talent in all aspects and musical genres.  It was good to be surrounded by people again, even if he wasn't the center of attention this time.  When in crowds he always found himself missing his days as a carnie.  

 

Considering that the crowd was dressed so eclectically Maxie had no qualms about wearing his black leather get up to this shindig, he felt if anything it would help him fit in even more.

 

Maxie turned to the pretty brunette who he had been talking to before getting lost in his own thoughts.

 

"My apologies darlin' what was it you were sayin'?  Crowds always get me distracted, but that's no excuse when engaging in discourse with such a beautiful and elegant lady as yerself,"  Maxie winked at the girl and she giggled before continuing to tell him about how great the DJ was they were about to see.

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Asli moved through the crowd, shaking hands and taking selfies and signing memorabilia. Some people offered her a drink or a joint or something like that but she always declined. Being a music star was a bit like being a politician, she knew, and right now she was just glad handing her fans. Some people might see it as dishonest, but she enjoyed meeting all of her diverse fans. Many of the people crowding into the pub were self-modified in some way, mostly by piercing and tattoos but she saw one man by the wall with pebbly-looking skin that probably cost a few thousand dollars to achieve. And then there were people like the next man, who was just standing there in a dark jacket. In fact he looked familiar...

 

He reached out to take Asli's hand and she froze in a shock of recognition. "Big sis with nothing to say. That's a first. You're not even going to say hello to your little brother?"

 

Asli wheezed like she had been punched in the gut. "Aydin? Wh -- what are you doing here? How are you here? How did you find this place!"

 

He shrugged, outwardly diffident but smiling broadly. "You're Asli Sadik. DJ Eclectic. Every time someone wants to talk about a Turk made good your name gets brought up. You're famous, sis!" He paused, more holding her hand than shaking. "Are you just going to stand there? I expected, I dunno, a hug or something."

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Short, dark, and very pregnant, Nina al-Darsah bellied up to the bar - a pun that Mark immediately knew his wife would not appreciate, so he wisely kept to himself as he stepped up to the bar alongside her. They were as incognito as two celebrities could be, Mark in a baseball cap and T-shirt emblazoned with DJ Eclectic's logo and Nina in a headscarf and maternity top to match. They looked like one of those recently married couples who had dressed together just for the statement it made - which was about right. "I'll have a Shirley Temple," said Nina with a slightly tired air. "Your son certainly likes the music," she commented to Mark, left hand on her belly. 

 

"Same for me," said Mark, restraining the urge to wink at the pretty bartender. His pretty, pregnant, and hydrokinetic wife was right there, after all. "Hey, he's got good taste, just like his mom." He pecked Nina on the cheek, his arm around her shoulders. "This should be fun. Joe says Asli's latest stuff is off the hook. And yes, that is another phrase older than I am, what can I say?" 

 

Nina snorted. "Mark, there's already one Lucas poking me in the ribs tonight, I don't need it from both of you." 

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Moira knew the look, someone with something to hide. She kept her eye on the couple offering to mix their drinks. She smirked at his older slang. then again, Moira had immersed herself in the new pop culture she'd missed for the past six years ever since she got back. She wondered if she ever sounded like that. "Two Temples coming up," she said getting the drinks to mix, "yeah, DJ Eclectic is new to me. I have some samples I've been listening to, and she's good! But hey, we have the real deal in about say, fifteen minutes." She placed a napkin and a Shirley Temple on top it for Nina. She looked to Mark, there was a glimmer of noticing for a moment. "Small world," she said doing up his drink, "you ever been here before?" She smirked, "then again, maybe you just have one of those faces." She set a napkin and his drink in front of him.

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Joe smiled as the young man went off with the signed album. "I dunno," he said. "I liked your 'I'm gonna tear it all down' phase, too. I mean, I like all your phases, honestly. But that's a fun one." He walked over to the bar, grabbing a hard cider for himself and a virgin drink for Asli. He and her had had the talk, of course - well, they'd had a lot of talks, but there was a "the" talk. About faith. Joe was still in the process of wrapping his head around it, but he needed some time - both to understand the precepts and tenets. Until then, he could still partake in a good bit of booze, and not worry about how some of the other requirements of converting might interact with his powers. 

 

Joe took the time to let Asli get her equipment ready to say hi to Mark and Nina. "Glad to see you guys out here," he said. He knew there were issues between Nina and Asli - fully understandable - so he kind of wondered what sorcery (entirely metaphorical) Mark had pulled to get her out here. But no. This was a happy night. "Gonna be one hell of a set."

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"... So since I had the weekend free and this whole party thing was happening, I figured it was the Prophet giving me a message and booked a flight." Aydin sipped at his setzer water, while Miras could only stare. "It's really good to see you again, big sis. In the flesh, I mean. You've been gone for a long time."

 

She shook her head slowly, still trying to process what was happening to her. "I hurt Mom and Dad pretty bad, Aydin. I spent all of my college money and a good bit of their retirement money on drugs. I did.. I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of, things that I still have problems facing. I don't know if they'd want me to come back."

 

He reached across the table and squeezed Asli's hand. "It's been a long time, Asli. I think they're ready to forgive you."

 

She felt a lump in her stomach and she had to swallow. "I mean... Dammit, Aydin, your timing really sucks." She glanced up on-stage, checking the time. "I've got to get on stage, but stick around! We're going to talk about this more.. little brother."

 

She climbed on stage and brushed back her hair, and in a moment she was DJ Eclectic. She stepped behind the mix table and began ramping up a beat, letting the bass carry the crowd. Before long she had the dance floor full of twisting, bumping bodies and she was feeling in her groove. She glanced up from the mix table and spotted a man making his way through the crowd. Time seemed to slow down as instinct took over; she saw his muscles, his shaved head, his white shirt, and the bloody meat in his hands. The magus considered her options, took a breath, and quickly summoned a cage of smoke and air to contain the man. She couldn't take the chance of being video-taped slinging spells on stage, though; she took a moment's more effort to weave the spell's motions into her mixing and an impromptu dance behind the table.

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For a moment or two, the ecstatic crowd thought the cage and transformation was part of the show - until they saw the man inside shouting and pulling unsuccessfully at his smoky bonds, his meaty burden falling to the ground with a thump. "NO SHARIA IN AMERICA! ASLI SADIK IS AN AGENT OF THE MUSLIM BROTHERHOOD! THERE'S MIND CONTROL IN THE MUSIC! SHE'S TURNING YOU AGAINST AMERICA! AGAINST OUR PEOPLE!" 

 

"Stop the music!" yelled one of the men in the crowd, a tall, sturdily-built man in flip-flops, khaki shorts, and a jersey and hat both representing the Atlanta Falcons. "Can't y'all see somebody attacked this man?" 

"I can't breathe! I can't breathe, aaagh!" the would-be pig-thrower was yelling in what honestly seemed like a loud voice for a man supposedly being suffocated, but who was indeed turning a truly alarming shade of purple. 

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Spitfire couldn't see much of what was happening as he was on the fringes of the crowd, but he heard the distinct sound of alarm, and confusion and could see while standing on his tip toes smoke of some sort.  Deciding that if the situation called for a little hero-ing, he should probably be nearby.  Spitfire used all his southern charm when jostling people to get by that he could muster in the hopes that hurt feelings didn't coincide with the stepped on toes as he made his way through the crowd.

 

"Is one night out without something bursting into flames to much ta ask 'round these parts?"  There was a smile on his lips as he muttered this to himself and thought, While I'm around?  Yes, yes it is too much to ask.  

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Joe picked up the dead pig from the floor. "Really?" he said. "F***ing really?" He dragged the carcass from the floor to the nearest available trash can. While he wasn't exactly well-versed, he knew there were differing interpretations between imams on whether or not a Muslim could handle the flesh of pigs - or, as he'd found out through a few Google searches, keep a teacup pig as a pet. But a number of people leaned towards "Yes, as long as you don't handle it with your mouth." And besides. It wasn't like Joe had converted yet. 

 

"You think you're one of the bastions of liberty against creeping sharia and some sort of phantom caliphate... and the best you can do is this goddamn amateur hour foodfight bulls***?" Joe gave Asli a slight hand signal while he drew attention. He'd seen his share of racist idiocy, and there was a non-zero chance that this was not they - whoever "they" might be - could do. 

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The man dropped to the floor when Asli released the spell - and dropped all the way. Blood was in his eyes and coming out his ears, and by the time Mark Lucas reached his side, there was only one thing to say. "He's dead." Mark looked up at Joe, communicating without words, or so he hoped. 

 

"He's dead!" yelled the guy with the Southern accent. "What, he had to _die_ because he wasn't politically correct enough for y'all? Is that how it is around here?" 

 

"Hell no!" yelled a big guy about Mark's height in a weird all-white outfit that made him look like...oh, okay, he's a supervillain. Well that makes sense! Nobody dressed that color-coordinated with good intentions in Mark's experience. "Goddamned killers, that's what they all are!" 

 

"Oh, are we?" asked Nina al-Darsah, whose pregnancy didn't seem to be holding her back a bit as she landed on the floor next to her husband - having flown there right over the heads of the crowd. "How interesting." She looked down at the corpse and her eyes widened for just a moment before she said, "I...he was killed by hydrostatic pressure. Look at all the blood in his face, Mark," she went on, carefully not singling out Joe. "Someone ripped open the blood vessels in his head." 

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Asli's eyes went wide as the man collapsed, blood pouring from him. Before she could make a move Mark and Nina were tending to him, and Joe was watching from the sidelines. Her eyes flicked down to Aydin sitting right at the front of the stage. She turned briefly to Catherine as the woman stood at the side of the stage. "You need to call 9-1-1, get someone down here right now." Her hands hovered over the turntable for a moment before they dropped, as sh let power flow through her and her words. With the sound system in place, she didn't even need to yell to be heard throughout the building. "Everyone just needs to calm down a bit. EMTs have been called, they'll be here soon and deal with the situation." Her fingers traced geometric patterns over the records as she spoke, but the flashes of light melded seamlessly into the neon LEDs that were casting their light on her face. "The police are going to want to ask some questions. Just keep your answers brief and there won't be any problems."

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When first the man fell, Maxie tensed, breathing in a sharp intake of air then setting it aflame in his stomach, ready to let loose a conflagaration of chaos upon the first bigoted soul to take advantage of the gathering chaos.  But as the lights and Asli's voice washed over him he felt his muscles relax, his hands, which he hadn't noticed had balled into fists, unclenched and he smothered the fire in his belly with a sigh.  It seemed that things were returning to normal, well as normal as things get with a dead pig and a dead man in the middle of a concert.  Having no stomach for confrontation anymore, Maxie moved to the nearest wall and leaned against it, waiting for the hubbub to die down and the concert to restart, if it would.  If not, it was always good to stay on hand in case the crowd decided to panic again.  Maxie knew breathing fire wasn't be best way to calm people down, but he also knew from his days in the carnival how to work a crowd, and how to talk.  Afer all, heroing wasn't always about blasting things, it was sometimes about being the calm voice in the maelstrom, the leader on the battlefield.  He was feeling whimsical when he thought to himself We do our best protecting not with swords, but with words and the resolve to stand between the many and the few.

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This was not his place.

 

Joe knew what was likely happening. He'd seen it before. The white power concert with the fake UN superteam and the dead Aryan pop star. The far-right speaker who "conveniently" got stabbed in the throat by a mind-controlled kart vendor in Amsterdam. He knew this was a setup. 

 

But he wasn't the person to scream that out. Not yet. He was the person who had to try to keep the peace. He didn't want to speak over Asli. Not yet. This was her concert, this was her place. She seemed to be doing a good job keeping everyone calm, and he knew his position as "the big white dude you can trust" wouldn't exactly help here. 

 

So there was just the waiting. That goddamn waiting.

 

He walked nearer to Asli's tables and gave her the eye and hand signals they'd perfected after months of nightly patrols together. Keeping eyes peeled. Making sure all clear. Got your back. 

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Asli watched the room closely. The instigators -- the racists -- didn't seem inclined to make their move quite yet. Or at least, they weren't making another move as obvious as a man dropping dead on the dance floor. Her magic, sustained by an almost sub-sonic beat played through the bar's speakers, was keeping the crowd calm and at ease. She even saw a few people getting new drinks from the bar, like there was nothing at all wrong! She wondered if that was a blessing or if she should be concerned how much control she had over them...

 

Her eyes flicked down to Joe as he made his way through the passive crowd. Just seeing him there made her feel less overwhelmed and alone. If a fight broke out it would be good to have him there, throwing down with the other shaved heads and giving her a bit of breathing space. For now, though, she took a moment to flick responses back at him. Stay and watch. And then, indicating Aydin calmly sipping his coffee, important and protect.

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