Slow going.
You don't know the half of it, Glost.
Still know more than you do, Herric. Donovan Glost, president of the HFF, smirked his patented, unbearably smug smirk, and lowered the still steaming tea onto the dainty little saucer Mitchell Herric had provided, swiping his long, platinum blonde hair out of his eyes as he did so. The tea was weak, and a weak chamomile to boot. Simply undrinkable.
We've been hemorrhaging funds since the Registration Act was repealed. There doesn't look to be much hope of garnering much action in the coming election either. Dorian is losing the youth vote thanks to all the hip, young metas running around. The positive spin on the hero angle is insane right now. Every John, Jim and Mary knows somebody who was saved by some mask or another. He's down 12 points in the polls among adults 18-25. He's a dead fish, Don.
Donovan Glost seemed entirely unphased by the pessimistic predictions of his associate, lifted the cup of tea to his lips once more before he catching whiff of the weak tincture within and, remembering his disappointment, lowers it gingerly onto the saucer once more, shaking his head as he does so.
Tut, tut, tut, Herric. Haven't you learned to trust me yet? The campaign hasn't even started in earnest yet. Just trust me. He smiles gingerly at his comrade, pityingly, almost. The man has no imagination AND no taste in tea. Such a shame.
Don't you know, Herric? Donovan Glost always has a plan.
Downtown Dover City, Delaware
Spotted her. Yes I'm sure. What do you take me for, an amateur? Uh huh. No. Yeah. Orangish hair, hairclip always on the right side, five foot five-ish, looks like a middle-schooler, sparks shooting up sometimes. Yeah. IT's HER! Gee-Frickin'-US! YES! Look, you tell Glost to shove it. If I wanted somebody micromanaging my ass and second-guessing every move I make I would have stayed at home with my wife.
Yeah. Yeah our volunteers are here. Of course they're fitted with the devices. No, no. Told 'em it'd be a minor shock. Like a taser. Yeah. In position too. Shouldn't be a problem, nearest patrol car's gotta be a mile away. We'll be first on for sure. Yeah. Yep. Oh, it's gonna be a hell of a show. Yeah, ha ha ha, yeah... I gotta give it to 'im, Donny's a pain the ass, but he's got a hulluvan imagination. This oughta be fun...
Rebecca Long stands at a busy street corner, microphone in hand, waiting for the cue from her cameraman/director/boyfriend/maybe soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.
What do you mean, Marcus? How am I supposed to "look cheerful, but respectable and serious"? You mean I don't look respectable right now? And why are we out here anyway?
Marcus shook his head. She knew perfectly well why, but she never tired of making her point. Well the debates are on in a couple of hours. When else are we supposed to take a litmus test of the public's opinion on mutants and metas?
Ugh. But it's so hot, and I was supposed to be in the commentator's booth by 7! I've got a master's in Journalism AND poli-sci. I swear they're always wasting me on this fluff stuff when I could be doing some real work...
Marcus Stain knew she was right. She was a smart woman, capable, personable (when she wanted to be), stunningly beautiful, and as quick witted as they came. It was why the lump in his throat had begun to form. He didn't want her to be involved in this. He'd begged Herric and the rest to choose somebody else, but she was pretty. She was personable. She was smart, and capable, and quick witted...
And losing her would be a tragedy for the community. He knew that. He just wished it wasn't her.
Rebecca sighed to herself and focused on taking the outside perspective, like she always told herself to. Did she get what she wanted? Maybe not, but by being out in the field without complaint (assuming Mark kept his trap shut about her complaining) she would show how versatile and willing to adapt she could be. So what if they had her doing "man-on-the-street" interviews? She was more than equipped for those, and beyond that, this was still her name on the job. She could either pout and scream (and possibly never be trusted by channel 6 again) or put her name on it, own it, and really make the best of the situation.
Well, I'm no quitter... and I am the best there is in front of a camera...
Alright, fine. I'll take this one, but you owe me dinner for this Mark.
Yeah, sure, anything. Let's just get this done.
Marcus lifted his camera and began filming, the dread rising in his gut.
Ok, the older people first. You now, a proper sample.
...
So who are you supporting in the election next month, sir?
Oh, I don't know, probably ol' Rosey O'Malley. We old farts gotta stick together you know? Heh heh heh....
And you ma'am, what do you think about Mr. Dorian's proposal to reinstate the Registration Act?
Well the way I see it...
...
Finally Marcus spotted her. The one they were looking for. She was just as they described, maybe a little cuter than he expected a mud-gene to be. She was a short little squirt, a little like his kid sister...
His stomach turned while he stared, paralyzed by the idea of what he was now supposed to set in motion. She walked along, seemingly carefree, or maybe taking care to project that sort of air about her. Either way, she had to be ignorant of what was about to happen, walking along ignorant while he contemplated doing the unthinkable: destroying what little peace she still had left in her life.
Maybe it's not her. It can't be. She's just a regular girl...
But the parted hair, the oddly orange tint blazing throughout, gave her away. It was her. He knew it was, which meant he had no choice but to follow through.
His stomach churned and squeezed, his throat tightened into a wiry knot. The reality of what was about to happen, of what he was about to do, finally began to settle in his mind. Distressed as he was, he still managed to choke out his last allotted line.
What about... her, the-- the kid He choked on the word.
Rebecca looked up, annoyed that he would even suggest a child. She was a real reporter, a political correspondent, why would she be giving out Nickelodeon style, "Kid's Choice Award" interviews?
Her? Why would I interview her? She's not even of voting age. She can't be more than 13. What do you expect me to do, slime the girl if she gets the question wrong?
Well, first of all, she's cute, and that's good for ratings. Plus, it's important to involve the next generation, and all that. You know... he wanted to continue, but suddenly his throat was sandpaper and glass.
Oh God, Becca is gonna notice. There's no way this slips by her... She's too perceptive, too smart, too kind, too feeling a person to not notice me screwing this up...
And notice she did. But Rebecca Long, for her part, did not act on what she observed. She had always prided herself on her laser focus, and when her mind was made up on doing the random, catch-as-catch can interviews, she had decided to devote her full attention there. If Marcus had something bothering him, he would have to wait until after the interviews were done.
That's true... good ratings... huh? Yeah. It might be interesting to see what the kids think of all this, but I kind of doubt she'll even know what we're talking about. When I was young I was more concerned about what Nancy Drew was up to rather than who Anthony Stark was and what, or who, he was doing...
But it's worth a shot.
Yeah... it's worth a shot. And you're right. She is adorable. She'll make for great TV. C'mon then!
Yeah...
Rebecca Long, age 22, sauntered over to the young girl she saw non-chalantly walking the streets of Dover. With a bright smile (and in an exaggeratedly cheerful voice) she asked the stock question she'd been asking all day.
"Hi there, I'm Rebecca Long with Action 6 News. We're out here today doing interviews, trying to get a feel for what people think about gubernatorial candidate Gregory Dorian's proposal to reinstate the Meta-Human Registration Act in Delaware. Do you know who that is, and what that act does?"
Long smiled invitingly, coaxing the girl into the interview while simultaneously blocking her current path, adjusting her angle to allow the camera to capture the best light to frame both her and her guest. Oddly enough, it made Marcus love her even more. That she could be so attentive, so accommodating, so thorough in everything she did... the way she smiled, the mischievous twinkle in her eye when she thought she had the girl stumped...
He bit his lip and choked back a gasping sob, for once glad that his face was hidden away by the heavy camera equipment.
@soliton
Log in to comment