18755/HUNGER: Heralded

HUNGER: Heralded
Date of Scene:	16 August 2024
Location:	Times Square
Synopsis:	The Silver Surfer arrives to herald the coming of Galactus, in the middle of Times Square. The heroes attempt to reach his heart, but find it blocked or guarded, and are left to deal with the chaos that emerges as the populace considers the end of the world.
Cast of Characters:	Norrin Radd, Monet St. Croix, Rogue, John Constantine, Noa, Clea, Evan Sabahnur, Peter Quill, Caleb Dykstra, Ororo Munroe, Mantis
Tinyplot:	Hunger

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Norrin Radd has posed:
Various Earth-based early warning systems have been tracking the approach, from the Justice League Watchtower to SWORD's Peak space installation. Its heroic community has had warning, too, brought by the crew of the Milano of an incident twenty five light years away. Moving at impossible speeds, the signal approaches Earth. Nearer, it becomes a handful, rather than a single one, a would-be meteor shower rather than a single falling star. But one is faster than the ohers, still. Fast beyond scientific conception of the term.

It passes the moon, and while there is a chance to launch pursuit there, it is too slow to stop the approach. Only inside the atmosphere, where the object slows, does some attempt to actually catch up become viable. The many governments of the world have their own responses, scrambling both local heroes and, where appropriate, vehicles to intercept. Of course, by chance or not, it is eventually into US airspace that the object interjects. Fighter jets may join flying heroes, monitoring but, in a rare exercise of caution, not firing.

Caution, or disbelief. Because it is very strange to engage a mercurial man on a silver surfboard with air-to-air missiles.

The Surfer's course takes him over many places, but the final two are of greatest note. Through the Metropolis skyline he passes, going so far as to buzz the offices of the Daily Planet. And then, at last, the silver man is on to his final destination, the Big Apple, the City that Never sleeps.

At first, it may only be heroic communication channels that are covering it, but by the time he reaches the city, the Silver Surfer is on every news channel. As he enters the air over Times Square, several of the massive video screens are already reporting him, reflecting his appearance, in real time, from multiple angles.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Having been in New York on other business, when the alert spreads out the various metahuman networks Monet St. Croix is responding at high speed. She doesn't know who or what the surfer is - whether he's another interstellar refugee, a curious space traveler, or just someone that's gone a bit high on cosmic rays like Tabby and 'brownies'. So, she's not necessarily expecting them to be hostile.

But still, strange person flying through space and making a beeline towards a major city where there's a massive metahuman population probably doesn't mean anything good in the long term. As she arrives, she goes to call out towards the Surfer telepathically <<Halt and identify yourself. You are on Sol Three, or Terra.>> She goes to hover in midair some distance from him, her hands up in a relaxed position, but also ready if there's a need to shift defensively. But so far his approach seems merely strange rather than hostile. She goes to send out a confirming mental ping to any others from Xavier's in the area.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue was out in the city today, as her public super hero persona of 'Mighty Woman'. Wearing the outfit she'd acquired during the deal with the Icons of Tomorrow group, she's dressed in a slim fit suit of dark green, white trim across the edges, and a dark grey shoulder cape. Metal thigh-high boots complete the ensemble, and the dark chestnut locks of her hair are tied back in a tight bun on the back of her head. With her white bangs flowing freely across the sides of her face, Rogue's green eyes scan the horizon, her phone having the live updates of another mysterious alien pushing through the atmosphere of Earth, and seemingly on its way here to Manhattan.

'Mighty Woman' stands atop the Empire State Building. One metal boot up high on a ledge, while the other extends down to rest upon an edge of the building. She stands beside an American flag whipping in the wind, her dark grey shoulder cape emulating the same motion, along with the strands of her white bangs.

She looks up in the direction toward the far away Metropolis, and is clearly monitoring the situation as it continues to unfold.

High in the sky, Rogue looks from her phone, where she sends out texts to other heroes on her support team, and sweeps her eyes about in wait for whatever might be coming for the Big Apple next.

John Constantine has posed:
Nothing like sitting at home, kicked back and relaxing with a pack of Silkies and a bottle of scotch after a ridiculously pain in the arse night before and seeing things on the news about a silver bloke on a surfboard riding the waves of the skies straight into New York City. Part of wanted to just turn off the television and pretend that he didn't see a thing. Another part of John Constantine, the part that always gets him into trouble, won the battle - the part that actually gives two shits and a nickel about what happens to this flawed planet and its inhabitants.

With things as crazy as they likely already are, no one's apt to notice him stepping out of a little tear in reality like he's walking out his front door because he /is/ walking out his front door.

Space business, it's not much in his wheelhouse, so for now, until there's cause for anything other than, he's just here to watch.

Bloody hell, he forgot his popcorn.

Noa has posed:
Noa vaguely hears that something is going on, and gets to it. She transports back to her ship, a little jumpship in Earth orbit.

So there's a little Shi'ar jumpship following a safe distance behind the Silver Surfer. Her little ship is hovering like a helicopter from the opposite end of Times Square that the surfer so dramatically approached from."

Her primary concern is being ready to evacuate anyone who may need evacuated. Which could be a LOT of people in Times Square...

Speaking to her ship's AI. "I like this planet. I'd rather nothing happened to it."

The computer responds in an unnatural monotone. "Any threat armed enough to threaten this planet, is one you would be unequipped to face, though."

Clea has posed:
Clea had seen the alerts rolling in. She's not a native of this planet, but she is an Avenger and it is her duty to see what exactly the hell is going on with things. So the white haired Sorceress arrives a few minutes after Monet and others do.

She's dressed in her usual purple. She floats in the air high above the ground in Times Square. Since Monet is already asked the Million Dollar Question of 'Who Are You?', she keeps quiet and assesses the situation.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    The main room TV is on as always at Hope House, and in a rare occurrence, Evan is caught up on everything that needs doing. He sits with some of the inhabitants of the shelter watching the news on the metallic invader. When he starts to see the New York skyline coming up as the Surfer travels, he sighs and stands.

    "Stay inside guys, I'm going to go see what this guy is all about. Hopefully it's just a visit and not an invasion, but I don't really trust luck any more."

    Rising from his chair and stepping outside, he concentrates for a moment before shrinking into the shape of a peregrine falcon and taking to the sky. His wings flap powerfully as he pushes himself into an updraft and is lifted high into the air. He banks in the general direction of Central Park, resisting the urge to swoop down on a couple of rats he spots far below.

    Tilting off of the updraft, he folds his wings close to his body and hits major dive speed before flaring out his wings and taking up a pattern circling over the park and generally around the silver figure, waiting to see what sort of encounter this is likely to be.

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter Quill is not doing anything heroic, right now! Even the Legendary Star-Lord (who?) needs his occasional day off. And after being heroically responsible for bringing certain doomsday-like information back to Earth, he's earned it. So the day was mapped out to be spent doing 'Earth things.' These are, in a way, nostalgic for him, combined with the shocking contrast of everything that has changed.

For his... crewmate Mantis, they are presumably even more unusual. And what better way is there to learn 'Earth things' than at the very center of Earth, Times Square, New York, NY. Its the actual center of the universe, isn't it? Or at least so the locals would say.

And there's a lot of doofy, overpriced tourist shops.

Thus emerges Star Lord, with an I <3 NY t-shirt, baseball cap, and bag full of other similar nonsense. Right into... well, the soon to be chaos.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Just an ally of the Justice League Dark, Caleb was not called to the meeting about Galactus. No, he had no idea until very recently, when John let the shoe drop...

And ever since, he's been restless. Been losing sleep over it.

About a way to save as many as one can.

The news reports now aiming their cameras at the Silver surfer, and seeing heroes arriving... He feels it's no coincidence.

And then, he sees something new showing up on the screen - Noa's ship. His heart racing, he decides to give her a call...

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm has flown up behind the Silver Surfer and then hitched a ride aboard the shuttle piloted by Noa. She joins in with some other superheroes too, glancing about the shuttle as she enters. She pushes the button and makes sure the door is secure before moving to the front of the shuttle, "Thank you for the ride," she explains to Noa. She is wearing her usual black classic costume she's often seen in on Earth.

She pauses and glances out the shaded window, careful not to look directly at the sun, "Do we have any threats in sight?" she asks and hmms, maybe thinking about strategy. She glances at Noa's piloting.

Mantis has posed:
Earth. It's just some unremarkable, backwoods planet in a Goldilocks Zone, but it's where her /crewmate/ Peter Quill is from. She has a suspicious interest in the history of a man who, by all accounts, is just a co-worker, travel companion, and friend. That's all he is. It's normal to be this interested in where your travel companion is from. Besides, she's barely that interested...

Mantis follows closely behind Peter Quill, head on a swivel, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at every little thing she sees. Occasionally, she stops, points at something (a fire hydrant), laughs loudly at it, and then catches back up. She's wearing her usual outfit -- a black and green martial arts getup -- decorated with some new accessories. She has a white and black New York Yankees baseball cap (with two holes for her antennae to peek out). Like Peter, she wears an oversized I <3 NY t-shirt over her normal clothes. In one hand, she carries a Broadway Playbill she got out of the trash. In the other hand, she holds a counterfeit purse she got from a street vendor's table.

"EYY I'M WAUKIN' HEA!" Mantis shouts suddenly, really pulling her voice out of her gut, at an innocent New Yorker just walking by. She looks up at Peter and smiles. "Is that right?" she asks, slipping back into her soft, melodic way of speaking.

Norrin Radd has posed:
No calls for the Silver Surfer to 'halt' have any effect, his smooth, board-enabled flight carrying on at pace regardless of interference. As Monet makes contact first, surprisingly, he answers her, although speaking rather than echoing back her telepathy, even though he seems entirely capable of understanding it, and perhaps sharing it. "I am the Silver Surfer, Herald of Galactus. I bring word of my master's coming, to your world."

There is no attempt at artifice or deception, nothing but the unvarnished answer.

When he reaches Times Square in proper, the flight finally ceases, and he hovers atop the strange silver board. The escorts, at least the jets, are at distance, flying circuits out over the rivers. Far enough to keep from buzzing the skyscrapers, but well within weapon range, for modern missiles and armaments. The surfer glance east, down 42nd street, toward a particular skyscraper in the distance. The only interruption, before he turns back to his task.

Having answered, he raises a hand, and for a moment, there is a glint of light. A strange energy, that many, any with unusual senses or perceptions, magical, scientific, cosmic or otherwise, can at least experience. It is little more than a flare, in a way. A message. A beacon.

After that, he slowly... descends, toward the very center of the busy square.

Noa has posed:
Noa is computer aided in her flight, so everything is nice and smooth. Hovering there, probably impressing anyone who's not watching the Surfer, honestly.

The herald's words, and the broadcasts being put on a screen in her ship by Xara (the holographic AI), make somet things click. And without thinking, she switches on a broadcast speaker, and tries to project to the herald. "You can't have this planet. Its people are nice and I like it here!"

Xara receives the call from Caleb, and puts it on speaker as she turns back to Ororo. "Someone has to stop this. We can't evacuate billions on short notice. No ship is that fast."

John Constantine has posed:
Well, seems everyone around these parts has wings today. Or at least some form of flight. John doesn't like to openly show the things he's really capable of - best to let them believe he's nothing but a petty dabbler, innit? No better way to best an enemy then be underestimated by them. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lights one with that weathered gold lighter he's so fond of and mutters, "Bollocks," under his breath and around the Silkie now dangling between his lips.

With a glance heavenward, even past all the kerfuffle happening right about the city, John contemplates his options. Stay down here and miss the important bits of the show, or join the party in the skies.

With one more longing moment spared thinking about the comfortable chair he abandoned, John reaches into the deeper wells of his magic, the ones he often keeps close to his chest, to call on the power of wind to lift him up where he belongs, or something like that. Then, as if luck finally found him (as if he's not the luckiest man alive to still /be/ alive) the party comes to him and he gets to keep his feet on the ground.

But what was that look tossed down the street? John only ponders it for a moment before tucking it away to be pulled forth after he shakes off the tingling feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Bloody wanker just sent up his own Bat Signal or somesuch," he grumbles.

This could easily all go tits up in two point two, so he raises his voice every so slightly to try and be the voice of reason? Ha! "Seems this bloke might just be here to talk, aye? Maybe we don't go cockin' off and make him angry just yet?!"

It's all spoken clearly around that still present Silkie. Man's had a lot of practice with talking while sucking on a coffin nail.

Rogue has posed:
Mighty Woman, aka Rogue, watches the Silver Surfer's arrival both on her phone, and in the distance. She observes others buzzing around the man, and the mind link with Monet is a familiar presence within the fellow X-Men's mind. She doesn't talk through that mental link, however, and instead just elects to watch. At least up to the point where the Surfer begins to descend.

With a grumble, and a reluctant exhale, Anna-marie steps off of the ledge of the ESB, dropping a few feet down toward the observation level-- which causes several onlookers inside to gasp at the sudden presence of a caped woman, watching her from behind as she flies off toward Times Square.

It is not a long flight for the Mighty Woman, one she has done many times. Playing this silly public persona role, has lead Rogue to becoming one of the more photographed, and video recorded local heroes within Manhattan. She even had an online following of some measure, if you could believe it.

She swept down out of the sky, and ended up touching down atop a massive video bilboard in Times Square, her boots touching on its upper edge, as she stared down toward the street below. A few years ago, she and Jean had been in Times Square, and she'd ascended up this very bilboard to help talk a jumper down from a potential bad idea. She hadn't been back here since then, but the memory fluttered through her mind all the same.

With her shoulder cape gently flowing beside her left arm, Rogue put one hand on her hip, and just watched from her elevated vantage point.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Well, that mostly settles as to whether or not he's hostile or not. "Leave, and tell your Master he is not wanted here." Monet St. Croix goes into a defensive stance, moving to rapidly try to start to loop as many heroes over into the mindlink as she can. Going to give them quick informational dumps on what she had seen Terrax and Morg do, and what she had seen of the fight with Terrax on Tamaran and other melees.

She goes to hover several hundred meters away from Surfer, but is not going to attack him or charge in. She has a sensation that pending them throwing a half dozen Kryptonians on him they wouldn't have anything that would work. Or maybe the Scientist Supreme.

"And why has your Master set their sensory nodes upon this planet? Why do what they do to anywhere inhabited?" Monet's fists clench defensively, moving to a position where she could move to charge at him if hostilities began. He seemed to be here to warn them after all.

"Your brethren seemed content to sit around, slaughter and revel, and sit back and enjoy the carnage."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm stands next to Noa as they watch the Silver Surfer make his way into the area. She reaches out and cautions Noa, but it's a bit late for her comments, "He has not attacked yet, though he seems capable," she explains slowly, "Do not worry, we will be strong," she advises Noa. She gazes out the windshield at the scene just ahead and looks quite serious, as if bracing herself for something terrible or shocking.

Storm crosses her arms and looks up into the sky, maybe calculating if a lightning strike would hurt or injure people nearby. She also leans forward to note where the other X-Men might be.

Clea has posed:
Herald of Galactus. That's a pretty heavy title! The surfer hasn't tried to blow anything up as of yet, so Clea doesn't unload any magic at him. She instead listens to what the visitor has to say.

Then as he descends, so does she. "Did your master have anything else to tell us or just that his coming here is imminent?" the white haired woman asks. She's not defensive or hostile. She's just speaking to the Herald.

Peter Quill has posed:
"OK, well, first..." As far as the quality of Mantis' New Yawker impression. "...I have no idea. I told you, I'm not from HERE. I'm from Missouri. Its... not exactly as far as a whole different world, but it may as well be, as far as this big city stuff. I never saw buildings half this big in my life, until I was on some industrialized moon with the Ravagers..."

"Second, I think you're supposed to say it when someone actually gets in your way. Not just to harass random passerbyes." He turns back, shouts behind them: "Sorry, lady! She's not from here!" Quill spins around back. "It's fine, it's fine, you'll get the hang of it, you just have to..."

He looks up.

"Oh what the shit, I thought we were." Aside from the booming cosmic voice, the fact hat the TV screens are replaying it leaves no doubt to Peter that trouble has followed them from their mission. "Is this our fault? I really hope this isn't our fault."

Mantis has posed:
"Oh..." Mantis' antennae droop a little. She was so sure she did it right, but Peter's the expert on Earth, even when he's not. Her thoughts chew on the feedback for a few moments before Mantis suddenly steps to the side, ready to put it to good use. When another New Yorker -- a fancy Wall Street type -- passes her, Mantis reaches out and touches his hand with her own. The tips of her antennae glow.

"Get in my waaaay," she tells him.

Mr. Wall Street blinks and then shoves Mantis with his shoulder before glaring at her.

"I'M WALKIN' HEAAA!" Mantis shouts again. That's enough to satisfy her. "Thank you," she soothes, giving the man a big, friendly smile before moving to quickly catch up to Peter.

Distracted, Mantis comes to a stop, stumbling into Peter Quill. "...HEY..." she starts.

"...I'm....walkin'...."

...

"Here," Mantis finally finishes in her quiet, normal voice. Like Peter, she's staring at the giant screens, hearing the cosmic voice coming from everywhere.

Mantis looks up at Peter, then the figure on the Time Square screens, then Peter. "I think this is is our fault," she tells him.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Hey, Noa", Caleb says on his communicator (okay, it's just a fancy word for phone), "I have received some very bad news recently - world-shattering, even -, and I need to know..." He pauses, "Is Shiny Boy there related in any way to the being known as Galactus?"

His voice sounds grave.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    The falcon swoops down to land on a movie marquee, then expands back into the form of a well built young man with gray skin and black facial markings. Pretty obviously not baseline human, to be certain. He stays on the marquee for the moment, since it affords him a better view than he'd get in the crowd below. Hearing the surfer's words, he shouts the question that leaps immediately to mind. "And when he gets here, what exactly does he plan on doing?"

    This is probably a fairly important question, because if he's just going to vacation in Switzerland, everyone can go home and stop worrying. Like that ever happens.

Norrin Radd has posed:
"It is not mine to take, nor would I. I speak only for my master. This world, his hunger requires, and so it will be consumed. I caution, that with foreknowledge, your best option is to flee, in what number you can. He has no interest in you at all. Neither malice... nor mercy."

This is Norrin's answer to Noa, first, and then Clea and Evan by extension, but it may serve others as well. His voice indeed does carry; there is an element to it that trandscends the spoken, as if he picked up on Monet's telepathy and just decided that was the mode of local speech. Or perhaps it is just the way of 'getting the message out' efficiently.

To Monet, but again, heard and understood by all: "Why do you live here? Your reason, his reason, they are the same. A world on which life flourishes is nourishing. Countless barren worlds are consumed, unmourned, but offer little sustenance. They offer barely enough to be worth the energy of the trip."

And his 'brethren'? "I am not like them. Each is unique, from a world spared by service. Our number..."

His descent into the concrete and glass, neon and LCD canyon is not rapid, as if there was no real rush. His voice seems to let him reach out and speak at ease, at any distance. Turning, rotating as he descends, he is almost as curious of the surroundings as everyone is of him. And at Rogue's level, he pauses, perhaps finding oddity in a single person at that height. "Your world is vibrant. I am... sorry, for this."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Well, so much for the 'peaceful' route. It sounds like diplomacy is off the table. And Monet's eyes widen for a moment as she whispers, "Allah." As the Muslim mutant lets out a very rare plea to a benevolent deity. Her fists clench.
    Then, on even worse news than having been told that Earth is to be consumed, her mind has the (mis) fortune of touching the brain of John Constantine. Monet has to control herself to prevent herself from snapping the link shut. She has to close her eyes and steel herself. Now she doesn't go to bother with saying anything else to Norrin.
    She takes a breath, and then sends mentally to John <<Well noticed. Thank.. You>>. She tracks where John had been mentally indicating, her head shifting likewise to that district.
    She quickly rotates amongst everyone present, trying to figure out who amongst them would have a good response to it and be most helpful. She settles on Clea.
    <<The being showed an interest in the Baxter Building when he arrived. He specifically looked in that direction.>> Four Freedoms Plaza>> Monet goes to take a breath, quickly assessing who else is familiar here. A similar message is sent to Rogue and Storm, with a 'keep quiet' on it. They need information to act upon before they play that card.

John Constantine has posed:
Well then, seems this bloke is 'talking' loudly enough for everyone to hear from wherever they're at. Thusly, John doesn't figure he'll miss anything when he starts weaving his way through the enthralled - and likely terrified - masses down 42nd street. He keeps the Baxter Building in his sights, which isn't difficult considering its size.

He could be wrong, Lord knows he's been wrong before, but that look - that one little glance at such a specific way, that one little disturbance in the force. John is of the mind that it means /something/.

He's just not sure what to do about it yet. Throw a protection spell up around the entire thing? Would it do any good? He'll have to get close enough to even try.

Too many 'what ifs' in the situation, it doesn't sit well with him when the 'what ifs' seem greater than the average.

He finally plucks that Silkie from his lips and drops it to the concrete where he grinds it out with the toe of his show before continuing onward.

"Good girl," John mumbles to himself when Monet broadcasts the concerns he shot her moments before.

Noa has posed:
Noa slides her hand on the console, locks in on Caleb calling, and transports him on board next to Ororo. Then she sits on the console, turning herself to face her passengers. "This is really, really bad. This is like, 6 billion people in danger."

She sighs deeply "You hear things in space. Entire worlds being destroyed. If this is that... and it sure sounds like that. Everyone on this planet is in immediate danger. IT's happened before across space."

Specifically answering Caleb. "I don't know what this master is called, but this is serious."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's metal armored boots stand with a steadying width apart from one another, giving the Belle atop the board a confident position. With one gloved hand on her hip, both arms encased in dark elbow length gloves, the Belle simply looks through the swaying bangs of white hair that frame her face. She isn't aware of all the details here, but the X-Men briefing had been clear enough. Another alien threat wanted to target Earth, another side effect of super heroes coming and going from the Sol System, as far as she was concerned.

'We never should have come out here.' she had said to members of her own team, following expeditions in to the greater galactic space-lanes of the Milky Way. 'This is only gonna come back to bite our asses.'

And here it was, the silvery messenger of their own doom?

When the Silver Surfer lowered down to relatively the same level as she, and she saw his reflective face scanning Times Square, with an untold number of eyes upon him, and his voice calling out his own sorry for what he was seemingly the herald of, Rogue just spoke back at him, her chin rising softly a miniscule amount.

"you should be." she said back, her voice at a normal conversational level, since the man seemed to have pretty great hearing.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    "If you were all that sorry, you wouldn't do it, now would you? Your actual phrasing should be 'better you than me'." Walking up to the edge of the marquee, he continues "Whether you take pleasure in it or not, you're still signing the death warrant for billions. You better believe we won't go easily, either. You may have made a great mistake in choosing this world, we're not exactly pushovers."

    He looks around the area, taking note of the other mutants in the area. "If you'd like, you could join us in the fight, if you really have any remorse over what you're doing, in what you've done. Or is it easier to mouth platitudes while condemning whole races to oblivion?" He shakes his head. "This planet may just surprise you and your master both."

Peter Quill has posed:
Peter reaches up to scratch the back of his head, jostled just a little as Mantis walks into him, and definitely NOT too bothered with where she's walking given everything happening. "Well let's just pretend he would have come here anyway," he decides, to spare them the mental anguish of stressing the details. After that, consideration. They're laden with gifts and souvenirs, and it hardly seems like a fight is on the table anyway. Bunch of super folks, just surrounding the guy.

"He... seems kind of nice, don't you think? For a guy who's just shown up to tell you that your world is marked for the snack platter. You getting anything off him? Or think you could? You're always better at the 'soothe the great cosmic behemoth' stuff, I only know how to trash talk to provoke them into fighting me as a distraction while someone sets up the whammy. And this guy seems like if I dissed him he might start crying instead."

Clea has posed:
Clea listens, her lips tugging down into a frown as the Surfer speaks. The white haired sorceress gives a shake of her head, "So you were spared because you agreed to be his Herald?" Clea asks him.

He had empathy, so it didn't seem like he was a complete lunatic. "If your world has been taken by him, why do you continue to serve? You don't have to take part in his plans." she tells the silvery figure. There is a nod to what Evan says, "Fight him. Don't continue to be an accomplice in his crimes against others. There are people on this planet that can help you." she states.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm raises her chin contemplatively as she listens to the Silver Surfer's ominous monologue, "It is imminent but it is not over," she states after she hears Noa's comments. She pauses as she thinks over the info Monet sends to her.

"My friends say the being looked down at the Four Freedoms building," Storm explains to Noa and Caleb, "I wonder what that means."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
When Caleb is transported, he's surprised to see Ororo there. "Ms. Munroe...? Hey there."

His surprise is short-lived as Noa speaks, and he nods, "That being is tied to Galactus. He's broadcasting it for everyone to see." He almost seems to panic, "Oh god, the chaos that's gonna follow..."

Panic is put aside as Ororo makes the remark that the Surfer looked at the Four Freedoms. "That's the Fantastic Four's headquarters...!", he now looks at it as well. "They could know something that could contain this threat."

Over the comms, now to Norrin, "This is a vibrant world, yes. And we intend to keep it that way." He adds, "Surely you and your buddies could direct your master to worlds not brimming with life, but with their potential." He pauses, "And... you offered to serve so your world could be spared?"

Thoughts run through his head, of his family...

What if...?

Mantis has posed:
"He does seem nice," Mantis agrees, smiling up at Peter. She gives his suggestion a nod and steps forward to reduce the distance between the Surfer and herself. Mantis stands with both of her hands gently pressed together at her waist and remains still. Her antennae sway gently as she navigates the current of emotions, searching for the Surfer's specific ripples in an otherwise churning river.

There he is...

She waits a few moments, hesitating perhaps. Something's wrong.

"...He...He isn't here," Mantis tells Peter, frowning as she returns to his side. She's not being literal, of course. Her fingers begin worrying against each other down by her waist, clearly troubled by what she just felt from the Silver Surfer.

"...I...He has feelings," Mantis tells Peter, frowning as she tries to find the words to describe this to a non-empath. "...But...I can't feel them. I'm not sure he can, either."

Mantis' antennae fall flat as this continues to trouble her.

As the Surfer's words become broadly understood, the emotional vibrations of the surrounding area take a turn towards darkness. Mantis stands frozen in the heart of it all, wide-eyed as the city's collective turmoil surrounds her. The rush of emotions hit her like a tidal wave -- fear, anxiety, dread -- each more intense than the last. Mantis clutches her chest, struggling to breathe, unable to distinguish where her own feelings end and the city's begins. She stumbles forward, dropping her souvenirs as she reaches to find Peter Quill's arm as the emotions of New York City's population turn suffocating, leaving Mantis lost and overwhelmed.

Norrin Radd has posed:
No attack is launched down 42nd, and the Surfer does not divert his course. Whatever interest the other building holds for him, it remains in his head, his heart for the time being. A wisp of nostalgia, perhaps.

Rogue, Clea and Evan each tell him to be more sorry, more sad, much in contrast to the more considerate Peter Quill. To each, there is an oddity in his reaction, both before and now. The Surfer offers apology, accepts guilt, yet there is... a disconnect, by which their words fail to fully impact. Abstract knowledge of his wrongdoing, his culpability, that does not fully penetrate, yet at the same time provokes a response, the necessary contrition.

He cants his head, as if to acknowledge their accusations. Their right to hate him.

"My betrayal would mean their death, her death. I... cannot." He shakes his head, as if fully pushing away the idea, especially as Evan urges greater violence, resistance. "Learn from Terrax, it is futile. Even without me, his newest Herald..."

This seems to turn him somewhat from the line of thinking. He turns physically, from Rogue, drifts through the air, almost aimless upon the board. More words blasted from the ship. It does not take him any kind of leap to imagine what is in Caleb's heart: "Offer yourself, when he comes. But there are no guarantees. If all it took was one self-sacrifice, on every world, than none would perish."

Mantis has some glimpse of his strange emotional state as well, but it comes at a price. The emotions of those around her. Because as anyone might expect, the widely-broadcast news of this exchange is now starting to impact upon the crowds of the busy city. People have stood, staring up at the screens, or at the man himself, trying to fully comprehend. But when they get there, when they fully realize what they're hearing?

It's not unusual to see a man with some sort of 'The End is Nigh' sign on a Times Square corner. To be ignored, or shoo'd away by the police when he becomes too much of a hindrance to the tourist trade. Today, that man is vindicated.

The end is HERE.

A window shatters, a police siren blares, shouting grows louder, crowds start to push. It is one of the busiest places in the world, and it is about to become utter chaos.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Well, this is going rather, rather badly. The Surfer has just announced that the planet is going to be consumed, and there's nothing they can do to stop him. She goes to brace herself over and then goes to speak to the others. "Offer yourself up to save one world so that you might aid in consuming countless others? That would make you complicit in what would happen." Good intentions and horrible results. One sacrifice to save a planet and to be a part of damning countless others. That is a line. One that Monet St. Croix will not cross. And that she will die before she lets another do so.
    "Even if you do strike us down in the name of your master, others will come. Even if we do not stop you others will. You serve a creature of true horror. You serve a monster. Willingly. That makes you just as dark, if even moreso than they." Even if outright immediately attacking the Surfer now would bring nothing, even if attacking him when he returns does nothing..
    Monet's words are not particularly threatening, in the greater scheme of things. Nor is her tone particularly reassuring.
    But condemning? Yes, yes it is.

Noa has posed:
Noa shakes her head again. Not quite panicked herself, but very much agitated. Looking at Caleb, at Xara, at Ororo. "I will take you, and any friends you want, anywhere you want. To that building?" She mashes her hand on the console behind her, and the Far Horizon jumps to hover adjacent to the Four Freedoms.

"Here we are. If this building has the key to saving this planet, do what is needed. Tell me what I can do. That's more important than controlling one riot. Hundreds versus billions."

John Constantine has posed:
John's journey through the crowd continues. Along the way, he clears his mind - blocks out any intrusions and tries to give himself over to the signature magic of a Laughing Magician - Synchronicity. His one an only thought, the one thing he allows him self to focus on as he's trying to surf that wave is just how he might be able to protect that building and the people in it should the threat of it actually become reality.

Whispered, barely there words are offered up to Hecate. He's already planning the sigil he'd need to trace in the air.

And it's all for naught.

"Bollocks," John mutters when everything goes tits up. He turns back, wading his way toward the panicking masses. All he can do now is try to mitigate the damage by tossing people, magically, out of the way of /each other/ and, of course, himself. He's gentle about it, mostly, at least what he's doing will cause a lot less damage than being trampled. But he's only one man.

One man that pauses long enough to snatch up a child that's been separated from her mother in the chaos. She's six, maybe seven and her hysterical sobbing seems to rise above the din of the chaos - giving reality to what's truly at stake. The future, her future, the future of his /own/ little girl. "There now, poppet, it's okay, I got you now," he soothes once he's found a safe place to hole up with the child. In that moment, the rest of the masses mean nothing. In that moment, all that matters is that one little girl.

<<I guess I read that one wrong.>> is tossed out to Monet. But he /still/ can't shake the thought that it meant something, that look.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's pale green eyes narrowed at the silvery metal man. She watched him drift away from her general vacinity, she watched him reacting to the others speaking to him, but it was the chaos down on the street below that had Rogue act.

With a sense of duty, and responsibility to help protect the people of the city, Mighty Woman stepped off of the apex of the video bilboard, and dropped down toward the growing madness below. She free fell most of the distance, before her body leaned forward, and arched in to a forward flight direction, sending her buzzing over the heads of that very man with the 'End is Nigh' signage.

Mighty Woman passed over Peter and Mantis too, before she dropped down on to the pavement, upon her thigh-high armored boots. With her hands up, Rogue began to cease chaotic traffic, to help the flow of pedestrians moving away from Times Square. She stopped a row of cars from accelerating, by simply landing in front of them, with her gloved hands extended, which caused a rush of tourists to rush across the opened street crossing. When a little girl collapsed to her knees, bulled over by the crowd, Rogue moved to assist her back to her feet, and back in to the caring hands of her father, who rushed to protect his child.

When people tried to shoulder Rogue, they found themselves bouncing right off of her, her immovable body a testiment to the power she does possess. She quickly becoming a presence that the crowds took note of, and reacted to.

The joys of being a public hero...

Clea has posed:
Clea didn't hate anyone, she just hated to see someone working for someone that was a tyrant. Even to spare a loved one. She got locked up for 800 years for not bowing to someone.

"You have a choice. Always." she states.

With that said, she descends down to the ground. Looking to help with calming the humans that are now panicked by what has been said.

Peter Quill has posed:
Quill may often be somewhat glib with this stuff, the usual heroic routine of deflecting deeper issues with quips and comedy. But as he realizes what Mantis is doing, gets some glimpses around the crowd... He instantly has the instinct that things are not going anywhere good. The world might blow up tomorrow, or it might not. But it's definitely going to shit in the next few minutes.

When Mantis reaches for him, he's already there, instinctively holding his arm out further first, and then dropping his bag to go and scoop her up as it looks like she's going to fall for real. "Woopsie daisy. I gotcha."

"Alright, I think we can visit the Disney store and get the zeppolis later... Now, where did we park." Obviously they didn't actually park the Milano here. It's at the Starport. From there, they probably teleported to the JLA and then took the Hyperloop and the regular damn subway, like normal New Yorkers. So they're not parked anywhere. Quill looks around, and immediately starts for a path that looks leaast-mobbed. He may not know Earth, but he's been in his share of prison riots.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Caleb's long silence indicates he's seriously considering it. He clutches his chest for a brief moment, remembering every moment he spent with his family. And he finds himself slowly nodding...

"And, in the meantime... You could cooperate into finding a ways to save as many as possible, as a gesture of good will."

Odd requirements, but in his mind Caleb is formulating plans...

Out of the comms, he looks at Ororo and Noa, "I don't know what - or even if - they have something that could stop this", he says, "But Reed Richards may be our best bet."

Mantis has posed:
Mantis's legs give out beneath her, but Peter's there to scoop her up. She begins to scream as she continues to drown in the city's thick layers of terror. Peter's words barely register as Mantis' screams piece the air, raw and unfiltered, a mirror of the overwhelming fear pulsing through the masses around them. She clings to the Star-Lord, nails digging into his jacket, her body shaking violently with every surge of emotion she absorbs.

As Peter carries her through the city, tears stream down Mantis' cheeks as she buries it into his shoulder, desperate to escape the relentless storm of fear, but unable to find refuge from the city's collective nightmare.

"Peter!" she manages, but that's all.

Evan Sabahnur has posed:
    Evan watches the panic begin in the crowd below him and sighs, shaking his head. "This is going to go badly" he mutters to himself then steps off the edge of the marquee, landing on the concrete twenty feet below with the ease of stepping off a curb. He grows a bit, making himself about eight feet tall so he can see over the crowd and try to direct it away from oncoming cars, keep people from being trampled, and generally trying to exert any crowd control he can manage. He's also made himself denser, so the people running into him generally bounce off, causing a lull in the panic around him.

    One of his hands takes the form of a bullhorn, through which he shouts "Everyone chill! Nothing is happening right now, don't hurt yourselves or others!"

    On a panicked New York crowd this has minimal effect, of course, but he still had to try. Since people are going to be running away, he simply does his best to provide them clear ways to run away, thinking that every person out of Times Square is one less that can get hurt. He leaves the cars to Rogue since she's already started taking charge of them, and sticks with trying to get people out of here before they get hurt.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm looks surprised Noa suddenly jumps the ship in front of the Four Freedoms building, so she frowns, "We may have given away our strategy," she suggests.

After a moment, Storm nods to what Caleb says and seems to agree, "It is worth asking," she explains, "I am surprised the Fantastic Four are not here right at this moment," she adds. She glances in the other direction to see if the silver guy noticed they sorta blinked in front of an important building, getting ready to grab them to bail out. "Please be ready to move..."

Norrin Radd has posed:
The rioting does have responses available. Times Square, given its high profile, huge crowds, and many events, has its own dedicated police precinct and mini-station, with officers out and working at all times. They immediately start with the basic crowd control measures, which are of varrying effacy, better in some areas where they can leverage existing barriers, worse elsewhere where the crowds spill out into the triangular pedestrian plaza.

The heroes are better positioned to deal with it, at least in some cases. Evan's abilities are well-suited, his size and changing nature being effective in physically rerouting the human traffic.

The chaos unfolds far beneath the surfboard and the silver man atop it. Watching dispassionately, there is a sense that this, too, he has seen before. "I wonder, if it is crueler to tell them in the first place."

Although several others continue to carry on their arguements, their pleas, it seems there is no chance of them reaching the Silver Surfer in the moment. Whatever Mantis identified, what others may have felt, it is as if there is a hardened barrier, between heart and logical mind. "See to your own. Enjoy what time is left to you. And prepare. The others come, and soon... Galactus."

Not immediately obvious in the instant, save for the most broadly aware, yet nonetheless timed to the moment of his words, those previously mentioned 'trailing' objects, those other falling stars, begin to make their own atmospheric entries in time with the words. Some of the TV screens shift to display reporting, showing streaks in the sky, over several parts of the planet.

The board begins to rise again. "I shall travel this world, to witness its end."

As he departs, someone, somewhere, makes the call. It is not until he is high enough, far enough, his course taking him out away from the island proper and over the harbor, that the missiles streak after him, launched by some of the stalking jets. As they track him, it seems obvious at first, that... the board is simply outpacing them, and could do so forever. Instead, the Surfer slows, sliding back to meet them, and then raises a hand.

Several become harmless clouds of mist, another, even, a flight of birds. And then, he is gone.