2012-08-06 Mishap in Midtown

Oh dear God, the Streets of Manhattan!? Not there! Not the Briar Patch! Er. Sure. Drusilla, being the general every-woman that she is, is making her way down said main thoroughfare this wonderful day/evening/night; one hand holds a cone of fluffy blue cotton candy, while the other grasps the latest edition of Field and Stream, all rolled up into a cylinder. Her gait is idle, but she's not oblivious: Spies are trained to notice the patterns, and pick out the anomalies as naturally as breathing.

How about the guy who's loitering across the street from a certain store front, pretending to read a paper. Oh, sure, to most people, he's reading the paper, but a spy *might* notice he's only pretending, and is mostly watching the store front. Why, hello, private investigator. John, however, has not noticed the woman with blue flavored (It IS a flavor, honest) candy. Yet.

Yarn stores in the late afternoon aren't exactly Miguel's idea of a good time, but what the hell. It let Angela get out of the apartment, and though he'd rather be swinging a few stories above, taking "normal" modes of transportation like cabs is--novel. Nice to see that taxis are one of the few things that don't change in a good few decades, so it's one place he's not really too out of his element. He holds most of the bags, of course; he hadn't really expected anything else. "Think you've got enough?" he asks her jokingly, peering at her through the sunglasses.

Angela is walking beside Miguel, holding an open bag from Gauge Knits, and peering inside. Hat on her head, dainty little black shoes on her feet and a bright green summer dress covering her body, the posh little Brit looks quiet content indeed. "Yes, I think so. So do to make a right muffler. Did you like the colors," she asks, one hand dipping in to sort through the items in the bag.

Garnering odd stares as he makes his way down the road, Kurt has a rolled up paper in hand; looks like a poster from the Met, what with the cello that is wrapped about it tightly. Countering the stares, the fuzzy blue.. elf gives a jaunty nod and pulls at the brim of his fedora in a three-fingered hand. Sometimes that elicits the pull of a child from his path, or the fearful mumble of 'mutie'.. but more often, as this is New York City, it's met with apathy. For the most part. Yarn stores aren't the draw for Kurt, but with arts and crafts stores, there is always the possibility of a merchant not far with an 'illegal' table full of goods meant for the tourist. It's there, then, that he slows his progress to look at the various items that have bright logos of 'New York City' emblazoned across. Scarves, hats, beaded necklaces..

That's the point of a spy! They could be anyone! They could even be... that cat, over there in the alley. It looks like a government cat. Ahem. Dru falls into step behind Angela and Sidekick, The Baggage Man, all the while nipping off pieces of blue food (because Carlin demands to know where the Blue Food want), and being rewarded with equally blue teeth, tongue, and the inner side of her lips. She loves blue cotton candy, but it's like kissing a dye pack. Anywho, with a scan to the right, a scan to the left, and a... wait. Mr. Man, over there with the newspaper? There's something a little off about... the way he's holding it. No? It's the way he is paying more attention over or around the paper than at the print. Interesting. She sidesteps Kurt as he steps along her path to look at the tourist trap table, and to her credit, only double takes at his appearance. ...Ah, hell. Mr. Man across the street has her interested, so she's going to stop at this same table and have a look - preferably in view of a reflective surface, like a sunglasses display, she can angle to keep an eye on John.

It takes a fair bit to distract John from a stakeout. A blue fuzzy elf with a devil tail? That...distracts him. The paper is dropped as he stares, just for a moment, at Kurt. Huh. Mutant, no doubt, but that's one interesting appearance. And likely an appearance that's got him into trouble before. He looks like one of the human images of evil incarnate. Poor guy.

"You're the one working with it," says Miguel, who really can't help but be drawn to the three-fingered man. "If you like the colors, then that's what counts, right?" Even as he says this, he watches the way the people react to the--elf. He's not really one for keeping up with the news, so it's not like he really has a full understanding of the public reaction to mutants. With some exception, though, it's not /too/ dissimilar from the public reaction to some costume-wearers. He's brought from his thoughts by remembering the bags he's holding, and quickly adds as he holds up the relevant bag, "But, umm, I like the--colorful one?" One she seemed to like rather well.

Walking without looking where she's going, Angela reaches for the offered bag holding it up to look inside. She's headed straight for the fuzzy blue elf, collision course. "Really? The sparkly one, or the easter bunny barf? Because the Easter bunny barf would be funny to see," she's saying. Her voice is really the only thing to warn the blue-furred one that she's getting too close.

Kurt is leaning over the corner of the table, his tail remaining.. low. Not too obvious, though it does wrap about a leg just to keep out of the way. "Are there any colors.. like.. red? Blue?" Blue? He's rather fond of blue. The merchant, however, doesn't seem too keen on his new customer, and he hisses out at Kurt, "G'way.. g'won.. doan need your money.. Probably stole it.." As for the elf, Kurt is used to stares, double- and triple-takes, even. The collision course, however, does gain his attention, and the speed and grace in which he not only sidesteps, but puts a steadying arm out (in case it's needed) for the passer-by (Angela) to keep her from the slightest trip. "Pardon.." is spoken in a heavy German accent.

Drusilla leeeeeans back a little, enough to just keep her balance, and studies this spade-ended tail with a lofted brow. Those brows draw together thoughtfully. "Hey, pal," she addresses Kurt, as an easy smile finds her features, "Nice save," is offered when Kurt so deftly avoids calamady. And then she asks,"...Is that tail... prehensile?" This may be perhaps the strangest question he'll have all day. "Could it like, hold my cotton candy?" As for the vendor owner, he's given a quick, questioning glance. "What, you don't like money? I mean, it all spends the same, and with the current state of the socioeconomic client, a dollar is a dollar, no matter where it comes from. You could have sold something today to a foreign spy, who paid with blood money, and you'd never know it!" Pause. "How much for these sunglasses?"

John Jones hears that...and it's not unreasonable for him to do so. He crosses over, tucking his paper under his arm. "Is there a problem here?" Okay. Is this about to turn into an anti-mutant riot? If so...well. He's checking out his 'escape routes'. This identity is far too important to risk.

The nice weather has brought yet another New Yorker out of the woodwork and toward the various vendors, just to enjoy the sunshine, and maybe to pick up something weird for Holly. She likes lots of weird things. Well, they're weird to Don anyway. On spotting Kurt, though, the young man stops for several moments. He's not staring. OK, he's staring, but it doesn't seem overtly hostile, merely curious. Who's he to judge a mutant, after all? He doesn't step any closer, however, not wanting to contribute to any sort of air of claustrophobia about the vendor's booth.

As his companion manages to avoid the mutant, Miguel places a hand on her shoulder. Not to keep her from the mutant; far from it. To get her attention. "This is why you should look where you're going," he quietly chides with a smile, if a lopsided one. As for the vendor--he's not exactly in a very tolerant mood, so Miguel just looks at the man and pulls his sunglasses down. Not much, just enough to let his crimson irises be seen. And he gives the man a grin--enough to show off his elongated and sharp-looking upper incisors. "I don't think there's a problem here, eh?" he says a bit louder, including the vendor.

Angela does indeed need that extra arm from Kurt about her, for while Kurt was able to keep the collision from happening, the suddenness of it all stumbles the posh Brit noble. The bag she was looking at drops one way, her hat flops to the ground another. Angela gives a sharp shriek of startled surprise. With Drusilla bringing attention to Kurt's tail, and Miguel showing off blood-red iris and sharp fangs, the vendor adds his own shriek to the nods, pointing at the hellish inhuman, "MUTANTS!" OF course, this being New York, not many would really care. Not many, save for that group right over there; the Friends of Humanity. "Hey, freak! Get your hands off the lady!" "Yeah, you heard him, ugly. Your kind ain't welcome here." "Relax, doll face. We'll keep these non-humans away from you." There are easily over a dozen of them, and as the double shrieks and their taunts get heard, more are stepping forward from the rubber neckers on the sidewalk.

Twisting around with Angela caught and settled so she won't fall, yellow eyes fall upon the one who speaks to him first. Drusilla receives a smile of greeting- and as for the question? It's one, honestly, that Kurt doesn't get too often. Nor does he get such requests. "Ja, it could.." is given before John interjects in his behalf to the merchant. And then Miguel. The teeth, the eyes.. and he'd never have known if the other man hadn't stepped in. Reaching out to place a hand on Miguel's arm, Kurt offers, "It is fine..". He's defending the non-mutant, obviously. "There is no problem." One, fine.. there is little courage in one. Two, three.. taunts get thrown, but from a distance. Many, however, particularly in Kurt's experience, means they take their strength from one another, feeding one another. With Angela in arm, now, he moves to make sure she's on her feet and steady. It's to the on-coming group, then, that the blue elf turns, though not before turning about to check on the others. "There is nothing wrong." He still has his paper roll in hand, and he simply lets it hang. His tail is mostly still, though it begins to unwrap from about his leg, even if it does remain low. "Please.. continue along."

"I really would suggest leaving the man alone." Okay. Quick assessment. Escaping would be obvious, slipping away to change into something more intimidating is, thus, not an obvious option. And there *are* quite a few of them. Quietly, to Kurt, "Probably wisest if you leave. They look like real trouble.

Here's Drusilla, noticing that the Strange Man from across the street has come over to speak his piece, as did Mr. Baggage - but Mr. Baggage has sharp, pointy, Vorpal-Bunny teeth and some pretty nifty eyes. All this attention, all the sudden, and Dru is still quite at ease - even when the mob mentality takes over, and the witch-burners go for their pitchforks. Great! The Friends of Humanity. In Covert Operations, dispersing mobs, taking down bullies, and toppling criminal organizations are handled in pretty much the same way. Take out the leaders, and the rest tend to leave. The trick is defusing the mob before it gets out of hand, and doing so with finality. The most dominate, aggressive member of the forming mob is singled out, while Drusilla picks up her magazine. It's folded in half, and she casually steps forth, with her hands raised in a disarming fashion. She has no outward signs of being a mutant. She does have an easy smile and a casual gait. "Now, guys. C'mon. No need to start something today." See, this tactic is called a feint. Lure them off guard, draw attention to her, and when the distance is closed - she can probably deck him in one good right hook. After the setup, of course (that is what the cotton candy and the magazine are for!). Right now? She just hopes to send them on their way with some careful soothing. "The lady tripped. It's all good."

Yep. He's just a magnet for weirdness... Or he's drawn to it, one. Don glances left, glances right, then sighs, stepping up with Drusilla. "These people are just trying to have a good day out in the sunshine. Let's not let it get any uglier than it already is, folks." He pitches his voice to be easily heard. He's fully expecting for this to turn into a brawl at any moment, though. Why isn't Holly ever around when he NEEDS her to hit something?

...maybe Miguel needs to start paying more attention to the news. The way the crowd is growing restless, it's like something out of a bad science fiction movie. And he knows a few things about bad science fiction movies. He takes Angela's upper arm and to start pulling her back, toward the wall. Unless things calm down quickly, it'll turn into a riot and he wants her someplace relatively safer. "C'mon," he tells her lowly, "let's get back a bit. I don't think this is going to end well..." Her bags are handed to her so she can hold onto them--and leave him with his hands and arms free. Just in case.

Quick assessment: easily twenty guys, with more joining in as Group Think and Mob Mentality kick in. Ten are near by, the rest are closing in fast. Most are unarmed. And clearly the elf's soothing talk is not going to help. Rather, it just makes things a bit worse. More insults are being hurled at Kurt and now Miguel. Freak! Mutant! Outsider! Dirty Gene! Drusilla's arrival to the nearest big and baddest is met with six of the ten Friends of Humanity members circling her up. With the insult of "Mutant Lover" all six move to attack. Three attack Dru, while three are after Don, who's made himself a target by stepping up to her side. The four moving toward Kurt and Miguel charge, two at each. They ignore Angel for now. She registers as a human, after all. When the bags are handed to her and she's grabbed by the arm and pulled toward a wall, she just nods. Her eyes are growing wide at the restless crowd. "Miguel," she says with a note of worried question in her voice. Her eyes are starting to flicker an eerie green. She's eyeing the gathering crowd with ever growing fright.

"That would be wisest, but it would accomplish nothing," Kurt responds quietly back. And, it appears as if he is correct. To add fuel to the fire? At least more than a little concern? Yellow eyes blink as he recognizes, finally, the girl that's bumped into him, and that he'd set to rights. Angel! "Zum teufel.." is whispered, and louder, "Please.. take her from here.." is requested of Miguel, though it's probably a great deal too late! Three attack Drusilla? That won't do! Kurt brings his rolled poster up to wield it like a sword before the pair as they begin to close in on him, "I do not wish to hurt you. Please.. go.." but, obviously that isn't going to work. He did warn them, and as they do charge, Kurt leaps straight in the air, doing an effortless flip backwards, evading for the time being. "Please go."

"And to think I went to war for the red, white, and blue just so Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness..." Well, if they're going to fight, Dru had set up to take down the biggest guy first. "Could extend only to the inbred." Here's the bluff: A left handed swat with the magazine. It isn't going to hurt even if it connects, but that isn't the point. The point is to make the human's natural reaction set up the next. It's a natural reflex: To bodily move or duck to the opposite side of an incoming object, and in this case, he's likely to duck down and to his left - which sets him up for a power-house right cross from Dru, straight from the Marine Corps Martial Arts program. This is +devastating+ if it connects: If he doesn't get knocked out, he'll likely end up with a broken jaw and whiplash. This is a trained spy with years of close quarters combat experience we're talking about. It's a Kata: With the carried momentum of the right cross, she'll face the next opponent to her left, and if the one to her right is close enough, she'll use the momentum will lash out a high-kick. "You're little better than the Klan or the Neo Nazis."

And...hey. Where did the detective go? Nobody was attacking John and it seems that he must have slipped away into the crowd. Of course, he might be up to something...but for right now, he's out of mind, as it were.

Oh, who needs a secret identity, anyway? Don looks left, then right, and sighs. "I don't suppose you guys are just ganging up for debate team, are you? I can see needing three to take me on in a debate, I mean... I'm really good with words. Not so much with fists, though." His words seeming to only make matters WORSE... as usual. You'd think he'd learn to keep his mouth shut. He opens his mouth again, this time uttering a word that WILL help. "DOVE!" Rings of light suddenly surround Don's extremities, closing inward over his form, transforming the mortal Don Hall and his ordinary garments into the costumed hero, Dove. As the transformation finishes, there's a burst of light, and Dove stands there, hands at his sides in an easy posture. "Now. Can we talk this over like rational human beings?"

As things really start to turn ugly, Miguel steps in front of Angela. A brow arches as two goons rush him. "Really?" he says to them--and when they get close enough his hands dash out to grab them by the collars of their clothes. Not one to throw words around when the shenanigans start, he pulls the classic move of bringing the mooks together, hard. They'll get their heads cracked together, and if they aren't at least dazed enough to be out of the fight, if not downright unconscious, Miguel will be surprised. Of course, focusing on them even for this moment means any other goon can get right up next to him.

"OH MY GOD! THE MUTANTS ARE ATTACKING! AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEE!" Screams of fright ring out the moment Kurt leaps into the air, flips in a way to make every gold-medal olympian jealous, and just refuses to be hit. One of the Friends of Humanity is packing, and out comes the firearm. Dru drops two just like /that/! Big guy is KOd and falls flat on his back on the street. Her snap-kick victim stumbles backward two steps before charging forward again. The other guy with them on Dru? He tries for a charging grapple to bear the super spy to the ground. Five more are behind them. Of course no one attacked John. The private eye is just too darned forgetful! Too durn nondescript. He better be careful if he runs into Agent Coulson. The SHIELD guy might be pissed at the Martian for stealing his schtick. If Don's words were making things worse, the sudden Sailor Moon-esque henshin dials the danger to eleven. The three charing him continue forward. The middle one seeking to body tackle, the other two trying to assist. The beatings shall commence as soon as turtle Dove's on the floor! Two goons heads in Miguel's hands go thunk! The slump to the ground. But with attention focused, two others make their moves and seek to tackle the would be hero. One of the goons, still thinking Angela's normal, reaches out to grab her by the elbow and yank her away from the fight. To safety! Because she's a normal! Behind Miguel, Angela's eyes flare out as chaos erupts. Her thoughts shudder and she seeks to recoil from it only to have her elbow grabbed. That's when she screams. It's a scream filled with horror, a sound three in this room would recognize in a heartbeat. Kurt would recognize the ensuing panic from that deli shop. J'onn, the latent psychic power within as phobias begin to rear their ugly heads in all gathered in the area. Miguel, intimately familiar with the sound, can guess what's coming: Phobia. Things just got real.

Gun? Gun! Kurt lands and immediately, his gaze lands upon that hand that holds the firearm. With a leap forward, he 'attacks' with the rolled up poster from the Met in the one hand, and makes a grab for the gun with the other, moving and twisting the arm such that there's very little chance that it'll be brought to bear with any accuracy. There is that added bit, however.. that the gent with the pistol has his finger on the trigger (a move learned from the movies!) and a shot rings out. As if the gun wasn't enough? Kurt can hear the eruptions of screams, and immediately, his attention wavers. He's got the non-mutants.. and now Angel.. and he's forced into that very difficult decision- protect himself and the group, or.. protect the non-humans. "Angel! Look at me!"

Things did indeed. Big Dude goes down like a sack of potatos. Second guy gets stumbled, which is enough time for her to draw two steps away and two steps back *in*. There's a problem with trying to body tackle someone like that - it's hard to change direction once committed. Her intention is to body check his forward momentum and latch onto him to keep her from going to the ground, even as he latches onto her. It's her *angle* though, that gives her the advantage. She slides *under* his arm and uses him as a body shield against the guy that was behind her, while twisting her current opponent's shirt free and jerking it up over his head, simultaneously bringing her foot down along the outside of his knee with a peroneal strike: Excruciating, Debilitating, but not ultimately fatal or permanent. With her foot planted, she swings an uppercut at the forth oncomer, but misses. She receives a swift punch to the gut which sends her staggering back, even as her gift-wrapped opponent howls in pain and... well, rising terror? Twitch. Great. Now the mutant haters worst fears are gonna whip them into a frenzy. ...and bring Dru to doing things drastic. That little tickle of trepidation magnifies. It feels like... a panic... attack...? The magazine is dropped. Her hand goes to the small of her back, and just inside the waistband. Out comes the inchweapon. If anyone attempts to halt her backpedaling, they're in for a very bad time.

Oh...no. If John did NOT know about Phobia he might well have been caught off guard. As it is, all of his mental shields slam up even as the fire impinges on the edges of his vision. Which, of course, causes the 'nothing to see here' field he was keeping up to drop, although he'd already gone far enough. One big green Martian, standing at the edge of the area. Joy. He did at least see Miguel, and hopefully he can get her calmed back down...hopefully.

There's an audible sigh from Dove as the goons try to tackle him, the swift hero deftly steps aside, grabbing his wrist and using his momentum against him, pinning it right up against his spine. "Really, now. When someone transforms into a superhero in front of you, you're going to try tackling them? I mean... You seem like a strong enough guy and all, but is that really very smart?" The thug gets pushed to the ground with a surprising gentleness, Dove letting go of the man's arm before he does serious damage, turning to face his remaining two assailants. "Do you boys really think you'll do much better, honestly?" Still... something is definitely happening, and Dove's inhuman concentration wavers for a moment. Is... that Hank coming toward him?

"Shit!" mutters Miguel, immediately forgetting about the goons. "No, Angela," he says as he turns around, to grab Angela by her biceps and bring her face closer to his as he tries to ignore Dana's lifeless corpse picking itself up off the ground. "No. Remember what we've talked about.  You need the control yourself.  You need to control--this." If the past is any judge, he doesn't expect her to even realize he's there. So if she doesn't actually gain that control in the next, say, two seconds, he's going to grab her and get out of there--bowling over whomever he has to to do it. He really can't allow her to hurt people like this. As the version of Venom he's--familiar--with pulls itself out of the shadows, Miguel half-hopes she doesn't calm down, just so he has an excuse to leave. Trying to ignore Goblin's taunts makes him blink rapidly as sweat starts rolling freely down his brow. The misshapen form of Kenny, as much a large splat as a human, calling out for him makes his heart beat faster. Fight or flight responses building, and he /knows/ these things aren't real. He /knows/ it--but that doesn't mean the urge to run is getting easier to ignore.

BANG! Gun fire! People duck on reflex as panic and confusion settle fully on the crowd. The people on the fringes push in, both to sate morbid curiousity and to get the excitement of the moment. Thrill seekers. The crowd of twenty is turning into a riot of fifty, and some of them are turning on each other! Superspy's gift wrapped guy drops, rolling on the ground like a bad Family Guy episode. (Ooh, aah! hiss aaah!, repeat) When she backs up, however, there are more mutant haters that move to strike. Their fears seeing her as a horrific mutant, calling for their babies to eat, or something like that. Because all mutants eat babies. It's a rule.. that I...just made up! More shouts of terror go up at Big Green and Martian appears out of no where. The humans around him move to attack out of sheer mob-mentality frenzy. It's like they just don't recognize the JLA member for who he is. Dove's assailants pause briefly, then charge forward. One of them is just a hair faster than he probably should. Latent mutant, hiding. Mutant-phobe over compensating, most likely. The goons that got to Miguel punish him for taking his attention from him. One of them packing some carkeys, using them as spiked knuckles. The human that had grabbed Angela has his worst fears come to life as the very delicate looking creature before him shifts. Everyone can see a hideous, inhuman sheath of nightmare settle over the young psychic's frame, her eyes glossing over with a sinister green smoke. The bags drop to the ground, and a beautiful red ball of yarn falls out and rolls on the floor. Which of the gathered here would see it as a disembodied human heart? Shoving Miguel's hand from her, Phobia turns her gaze on her first assailant. The worst of the area fear effects subside as Phobia's mind spears into the poor poor human at her side. His eyes widen, his heart rate leaps erratically, and he drops to his knee. ~Don't touch me,~ Phobia hisses, her British accent cold, harsh, and filled with an eerie reverb remeniscent of a rattle-snake tail. She tries to slide her arm out of his grasp and shoves the poor man away from her, yanking her mind out of his, leaving him just with the lingering nightmare of her touch. With her goon a quivering mess at her feet, Phobia's eyes slide to Kurt. The blue 'demon' is familiar. Why? The deli. She'd had a panic attack. The red-head with him destroyed the place. He got her out. Phobia's frame trembles a moment as she peers at Nightcrawler.

Gun fire always gets peoples' adrenaline pumping! It also has a tendency to bring the authorities. Near riot, gun shots? Green men.. green men?! Kurt is so focused on Phobia that the fact that there is now a changed 'hero' that is Dove, there is a green ... person.. and.. and.. well.. he can feel the fear. The mob's chanting is slowing turning from English to German in his ears, in his mind, and he's got to get to Phobia. He //knows// that no good can come from it. "Come with me!" is hissed, yellow eyes seeing much more anger and hate than is even encompassed in this crowd. There murder all around him.. and he's got to go! Reaching out to Angel, Nightcrawler makes a grab for her, not realizing Miguel has her as well, and the moment he's even got the barest connection, there's the sudden *bamf*.. and he's gone.. and suddenly reappears away from the maddening crowd. Just.

Here's the deal. This really is akin to Dru's worst nightmare. She takes two more punches, one to the face and one to the back, and quite suddenly, without -warning-, there is a gate. It's 15 feet long on all sides, and it just appeared in the ground behind and slightly underneath her, thus taking her and all of those about to beat on her on a trip they'll not enjoy. There was no indication she was responsible for it. But the other side of the gate? It's about a thousand feet in the sky, exit facing down. Both gates appear as sanguine red, oscillating portals to elsewhere. Drusilla falls through the gate as well, as if she were victim to some unknown mutant's powers going wild! Let the Bodies Hit The Floor. However many people she caught in that gate are going to be falling a thousand feet from the sky and to the unforgiving pavement and vehicles below, but Dru won't be among them. Once the fear subsides, she has the presence of mind to close the first pair of gates, and open a second - one small enough for only her, with the exiting side facing upward and slightly behind over a rooftop. She still has to account for free fall and acceleration, so the reversal of velocity still launches her up like a cannon, but it kills the momentum enough at the apex for another pair of gates to land her on the rooftop - as if she only took a jump at hopscotch. She lies there on the rooftop, half curled up in the fetal position, even as the scream of those in free fall streak by. "Good... riddance."

And the green man? He leaps upwards, determined to catch as many of the falling people as he can. He won't get all of them, of course....but it's very clear what his intent is. Preserve lives. Even the lives, it seems, of assholes. It's really a shame J'onn can't do telekinesis, which would have been VERY useful right about now. Hopefully he didn't see Drusilla's face. Oh, wait, she's a spy, she can probably just change it anyway.

Hardly unexpected. Dove took the charge in stride, or, actually, by falling backward with his attacker's momentum and sending him flying backward into the vendor's stall... Doesn't matter that he looks like Hank, he's not, and Dove knows it... Portal. People in the air. Crap. Dove makes an amazing leap, for his size... but doesn't touch back to earth, instead taking to the skies as fast as he can, catching the wrist of one and the collar of another... But unlike the Magnificent Martian Manhunter, Dove only has two hands. A third gets a hard kick to the back that snags his t-shirt for a moment, but doesn't do much besides slow him briefly... while the fourth... grabs Dove's hair as he falls past, dragging the would be hero down, albeit at a much slower speed than any of them would be falling without his help. "Ow, ow, this is NOT cool, I am going to punch you SO hard when we land!"

"No," says Miguel, refusing to let go of Angela--but he can't say anything more. Suddenly they get--shoved? Pulled? Pushed? Something he's never felt before, and that's saying something. For the eye-blink he's--nowhere? Everywhere?--it's really a very disconcerting sensation. And when they--land?--he blinks, looking around, eyes settling on the blue one. "Don't do that again, please," he mutters, then tries to focus on Angela. If she's still all rar-Phobia-ish, he isn't going to waste more words. Maybe she'll be more disoriented than he was, and he can yank her inward to plant his fangs into her neck/shoulder area. Any place would do, really, but that would result in her succumbing to the paralytic venom the quickest.

OMG PORTALS! J'onn's caught six of them. The other four continue falling. Dove catches three, and the fourth and final faller catches Dove. The rest of the crowd, with portals appearing, and Martians and the smell of brimstone, all just GTFO! it's too scary! These mutants are bad news! They run for the hills. At the edge of the now thinning crowd, Phobia finds herself. What was that feeling? Or being shoved through hell and back out again? That heartbeat of being elsewhere causes that moment of psychic feedback, and Phobia yelps in pain there in the netherworld. Angela appears with Miguel, gasping and bringing her hands up to his chest and leaning back away as she goes to bite at her. "Let me go," she blurts out, her voice normal. Her eyes flicker eerie once more.

There... was two? Two? Kurt comes out on the other side and trips, his balance off a little. He's blinking, and a three-fingered hand rises to his head. The voices.. they're not crying for his life now- not screaming for his blood. But, he hears screams still. The blue elf blinks at Miguel, the one who'd hitched the ride.. and nods his head. But he's got to go! It isn't more than a couple of heartbeats before there is that *bamf* sound, the sound of air rushing in to fill the void where Kurt had been.. the smell of brimstone left behind as he disappears. He appears suddenly in mid-air, and grabs someone who is falling. This won't be easy, due to the whole 'law of physics' thing, but the moment he's got them, again.. the air pops, and the tailed-mutant is no longer there, but rather, appears on the ground. Before he can say or do anything, Kurt's gone again..

John saw Dru, but there's no real way to know she was responsible. The mob was large and unruly, and it was likely they weren't the only on the mutants on the block. Dru fell through the gate too and it was at the edge of the fear wave's subsiding, so who knows? She won't be among those needing rescuing. The poor beleaguered spy does get up the willpower to crawl and hide around something in the meantime, so she can bleed and groan in relative peace. "...Record... Pain..." See, the AntiHero has no qualms about letting assholes reap what they sew! She looks out from her hidey hole and spots the Martian Manhunter vaulting to the rescue, giving the idiots a second, undeserved chance at life. Oh, well. Dru will bleed quietly.

Oh good, someone caught the other guy! Dove looks relieved, even as he looks pained that someone's still hanging on to a handful of hair. Once he reaches a few feet off the ground, he lets go of everyone... while the final guy still clings to his ponytail like a lifeline, eyes clenched shut, whimpering a few inches off the ground, his knees curled up to his chest. "... You can let go, now. Seriously. Open your eyes..." The guy slowly opens one eye, then the other, looking warily about as if Dove was tricking him. Dove finally lands and bodily yanks himself free of the man's grip. "Honestly."

In a blur of green, six of the goons are set down on the nearby rooftops. And then, the green man is descending. "And thus, their hatred is confirmed," he says rather sadly. This HAS to have reinforced their fear of mutants. His voice is rich and deep. Of course, the fact that he saved some of them might help, even though he is not a mutant. Far from it, in fact.

Since she's not all rar-brain-rape-y anymore, Miguel doesn't go in for the bite. He's still mighty tempted, though, just on premise. And then the dark mutant is gone again. Well, he got Angela out of there before she could do any /more/ harm. Small favors. "Alright, we're going home," he tells her in his Not Kidding Around voice. "Maybe we can get away before anyone like the police show up..." He keeps one hand on her upper arm, and she can feel the way his talons flex a little in an unconscious display of his anxiety. Right now, all he wants to do is get her back to their place. So he ignores the looks of the people who just saw them appear out of thin-air and goes to hail a cab.

The rescued guys don't stick around long. Sirens can be heard in the distance. "But... but... my yarn," Angela protests, turning back to see her bags on the ground, and that lone ball of yarn on the floor. She works to try to get free of Miguel's grip. (YEAH RIGHT!)

Kurt.. is tired, or rather, fatigued from the effort of taking two along, even if it was a short distance. Thankfully it WAS a short distance. He lands again after making sure everyone is safe and sound and on the ground. He's come to land on the roof of a three story building, perching a little way away from the edge. Running a hand through his hair, he crouches there for a long moment, watching the last of the crowd disperse after the police begin to approach. Time to truly go home and take a nap. Or, better yet, sleep the rest of the day.. and not rise from his bed until morning. "Danke, meine Freunde.." Thank you, my friends. Kurt drops his head, his chin coming to rest near his chest, and there is nothing where the blue devil once was. Nothing but a soft *bamf* marking his departure.

John Jones glances at the chaos. Then at the cops...arriving in good order, if a little late. He decides they can handle it from here on out and lifts into the sky, flying high enough that nobody without super senses can tell which way he actually went.

Oh, look, police. And reporters! Dove glances left, glances right. Nobody's dead. Everybody's fairly unhurt! Well, except that guy over there... Huh. Dove... AWAY! He takes swiftly to the skies, muttering under his breath.

At the mention of her yarn, Miguel arches a brow and looks at her, then looks back, then looks to her. He almost seems to deflate a little, but he lifts his arm so he can unfasten the cuff of his shirt with his teeth. No, he's not going to trust her long enough to take his hand off her. After pushing the cuff up, he looks around, making sure no one's looking at them--then a quick PFFSST-yank. The bags and ball of yarn are snagged and yanked in almost the blink of an eye, and he yanks the webbing off the bags as he shoves them into her hands. He'll have to hold onto the ball of yarn for now, until he can get the webbing off it later. And since the police are showing up, he hurries her down the street, keeping the yarn--and webbing--tucked against his body so the latter isn't seen.