First
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Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.
- Mark Twain
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'What's wrong with people"' Brend thought, 'And I mean, other things, non-people people, too.'
He'd been walking, marching, jogging, what felt like all week, and was never able to get where he was going. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'because I have no destination.' The protests had been cropping up all over the place, and he was moving like a dart in search of a board; his boots were made for walking, not so much the black slacks, or the high collar blue shirt. The long grey coat cut the cold somewhat, but all things considered, there were moments out around the city he'd have been just as happy mopping the floor somewhere. As it was, his long handled mop was propped up over his shoulder, with a large placard attached to it to rival all other protesters placards in boldness of print and message. Hanging as it was, your head would have to be leaning on it's side to read, but the placard boldly declared:
'FIRST!!!!'
While he wasn't a trouble maker, per se, nor did he shy away from it's all too frequent allure. Due to the deliberately vague nature of his placard, he often found himself trundling along with protesters of either bent, either Humanity or Humility. While the latter are the ones he sought out, the former he didn't avoid - and would often deliberately stay with them if he thought they might cross paths with the Humility movement people. He wasn't sure why it gave him such a rush, but he delighted in crossing sides in front of the Humanity movement.
While the Humanity people more often reacted to his actions as a betrayal, and with at least some degree of outrage, the Humility protesters were more varied in their reaction to his presence. Indifference; distaste at his apparent inability to take it seriously; or grim or righteous amusement at the state he threw the Humanity protesters into. It was the end of the week before a true confrontation occurred. He'd been standing with a growing crowd of Humanity First supporters for some time, not quite half an hour, when a band of marchers appeared across the street, coming towards them. They weren't in active protest mode, but their purpose was made apparent by their clothes and almost excited nature of their rhetoric - what could be heard of it at least. The movement was gaining momentum, and they were excited. He'd just set foot into the street and moved towards them, nearing the center of the road, when someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
"Hey," came a rough voice, not terribly deep but obviously male. "What are you some kinda freak lover" Who are you here for, anyway?" One of the union members under his watch, James Carron.
~ ~ ~
'What's wrong with people"' Brend thought, 'And I mean, other things, non-people people, too.'
He'd been walking, marching, jogging, what felt like all week, and was never able to get where he was going. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'because I have no destination.' The protests had been cropping up all over the place, and he was moving like a dart in search of a board; his boots were made for walking, not so much the black slacks, or the high collar blue shirt. The long grey coat cut the cold somewhat, but all things considered, there were moments out around the city he'd have been just as happy mopping the floor somewhere. As it was, his long handled mop was propped up over his shoulder, with a large placard attached to it to rival all other protesters placards in boldness of print and message. Hanging as it was, your head would have to be leaning on it's side to read, but the placard boldly declared:
'FIRST!!!!'
While he wasn't a trouble maker, per se, nor did he shy away from it's all too frequent allure. Due to the deliberately vague nature of his placard, he often found himself trundling along with protesters of either bent, either Humanity or Humility. While the latter are the ones he sought out, the former he didn't avoid - and would often deliberately stay with them if he thought they might cross paths with the Humility movement people. He wasn't sure why it gave him such a rush, but he delighted in crossing sides in front of the Humanity movement.
While the Humanity people more often reacted to his actions as a betrayal, and with at least some degree of outrage, the Humility protesters were more varied in their reaction to his presence. Indifference; distaste at his apparent inability to take it seriously; or grim or righteous amusement at the state he threw the Humanity protesters into. It was the end of the week before a true confrontation occurred. He'd been standing with a growing crowd of Humanity First supporters for some time, not quite half an hour, when a band of marchers appeared across the street, coming towards them. They weren't in active protest mode, but their purpose was made apparent by their clothes and almost excited nature of their rhetoric - what could be heard of it at least. The movement was gaining momentum, and they were excited. He'd just set foot into the street and moved towards them, nearing the center of the road, when someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
"Hey," came a rough voice, not terribly deep but obviously male. "What are you some kinda freak lover" Who are you here for, anyway?" One of the union members under his watch, James Carron.