The Displaced
"So, wot yer trying to tell me is that some reporter saw us at that gig where it all hit the fan, and now wants us to come in and have a TV interview done?" Jonothon said carefully.
"Just about," Angelo said.
"They somehow found out about the school...probably bribed someone we played for is my guess, vato. They rang the professor, and then I talked to them. We gonna do it? They're waiting for an answer."
"Any publicity is good publicity," Octavian said.
"We've flaunted the fact that we're mutants. One of our main points."
"Da, why not?" Sergei said.
"What will we be doing?"
"Ten minute interview and a song..."
~*~*~*~
Sergei snapped his fangs at the make up lady and laughed to himself when she flinched back. They had no idea what to do with his skin, to make sure he wasn't shiny under the lights.
"Go and attend to the ones that actually need it, I'm like this all the time and makeup won't change that," he told her and she thankfully scurried off.
Octavian was flirting with everyone in sight and the make up girls were cooing back to him, taken in by his accent and general good lookingness. They were willing to ignore the fact that he was a self-professed mutant for a smile and a kiss to their hands.
Jonothon glared and finally had enough of the woman fussing around him.
"Shove off!"
She squeaked and took a step back at the irritated 'voice' in her head. Octavian clucked his tongue at Jonothon.
"Let the beautiful lady do her work, Jono."
"Bite me."
The telepath settled back into the chair and let the woman finish his makeup. Angelo chuckled and flicked his fingers at him.
"Ah, vato, this will be good for the band. So take it like a man."
"Sod off."
~*~*~*~
Jonothon stalked across the interview room, then back again. Sergei lounged on the couch, Octavian flicking his fingers through a magazine as they waited for the interviewer to show up.
A smiling woman flounced in through the door, dressed in the newest fashions of today. Jonothon raised an eyebrow at her, black bandages wrapped firmly around his face and chest.
"Let's get this done then."
A flicker of fear ran over her face, and Sergei snickered.
"They didn't tell you he was a telepath, did they? Oh, dear."
"Do not be afeared, sweet lady. Jonothon will be the epitome of politeness and restraint, won't you, Jono?" Octavia asked.
~*~*~*~
The interview progressed pretty quickly.
"So, you're called The Displaced. Any reasons behind the name?"
Octavian smiled at her, then turned his dazzling grin to the cameras. Teen girls all over the country swooned. Sergei chuckled to himself.
"None of us are Americans by birth and due to our mutations, have finished up here. Displaced from what we would normally call home."
"So, where are you all from?" the woman asked.
"Jonothon and I are from England," Octavian said.
"But very different parts."
"Jono, they can't hear you," Angelo said, grinning.
Jonothon flipped him two fingers.
"Jono's a telepath, and due to the way his mutation manifested, he can't speak with his mouth," Octavian said.
"But as he said, we come from very different upbringings. Myself, I'm actually a minor British noble. Jono..."
"London lower middle class, right, Jono?" Angelo said.
Jonothon nodded.
"Parents voting Labour, anti-everything but white middleclass, more or less."
"I'm from Russia," Sergei said.
"South America, Columbia to pin it down," Angelo said.
"And why did you all come to America?"
"Well...usually to do with how our powers manifested," Octavian said.
"My sister...yes, I have a twin sister and yes, she's single. And so am I, but I'm getting distracted. My sister's powers of levitation and teleportation were discovered by my parents as she was calmly doing a Matrix impersonation, sitting in mid air and reading a book. My mother had hysterics, she grabbed me and we came to see some friends who moved to America."
"I was shot," Angelo said simply.
"The shock triggered my manifestation and everyone back home thinks the boy I was is dead. There's even a grave with a body in it my madre can leave flowers at. I was brought to America and that saved my life. I can never go back home."
"I was clubbed over the back of the head and brought to America as part of a experiment," Sergei said dryly.
The interviewer looked shocked.
"Oh, like people don't know it happens. I was just a drunk Russian with a very visible mutation, and a more powerful side one which they wanted to experiment on."
"Which is?"
"I control nuclear energy, and I can juggle atoms to make one thing into something else. Watch."
He put his hand on the glass of water in front of him and turned the water into vodka. He gave it to her and made a sign for her to sip it. She did, and coughed.
"Whoa, what is that?"
"Vodka, Russian strength."
"Yes, because Sergei is a drunk," Octavian said.
"Shut up, pretty boy."
"We bicker a lot," Angelo said.
"Jono got kicked out by his parents after his powers manifested and got picked up by the person who saved all our skins. Who, we're not telling. We owe them, ya see. And FOH can get nasty."
"Arrogant bastards," Sergei snarled.
"Ruffians and brigands of the blackest sort. Cowards, hiding behind rhetoric and numbers to pick on the weak and defenceless," Octavian spat.
Jonothon looked at Angelo.
"Jono says he knows that his ex girlfriend is the poster child of the mutants are dangerous league in Britain, since he hurt her accidentally when his powers manifested and he has a message for her and for them. Gayle, he's sorry that he hurt you, but what happened can never be taken back. And for the people using her as a publicity stunt..."
Jonothon flipped the camera two fingers, one eyebrow raised.
"Bloody well sod off and find something better to do with your lives then picking on people who had no choice in what they are then you had in what colour your eyes are."
"Ahh...very strong sentiments expressed there," the woman said, smiling gingerly.
"We're not mutant superiority leaning," Octavian said.
"We just want to be treated like anyone else who does not have an activated X-gene. We're all humans. We were all born from mothers. We all had a father. We love, we laugh, we bleed. We are just the same as anyone, but we are reviled, feared and hated. What we are doing, is trying to find a balance."
"Some very interesting views," the interviewer said.
"And I was told you would be playing for us? The Displaced, back right after this break."
~*~*~*~
Sergei glanced back and Jonothon started the first chords.
"Duck and cover, America
Welcome to the conspiracy theory of today
Terrorists, bombs, mutants, UFO's and aliens
Which ones are real
In this world of political smoke and media mirrors?
Elvis is alive and well
JFK was killed as part of a Russian plot
Roswell happened, and they live among us
Those little green men
Welcome to my conspiracy theory
Welcome to my conspiracy theory
CIA, FBI, ASIO, MI5
WMD's, the acronyms of fear today
Paranoia, looking for those Reds under the bed
McCarthy would be so proud
To see the America of today
Israel, Palestine, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan
Suicide bomber, Al'Queda, 9/11
Buzzwords for fear
The Brotherhood of Mutants
Magneto, Sabretooth, Mystique, Toad, Ellis Island
Are you listening, Stryker, Senator Kelly?
We advocate mutant rights!
Welcome to my conspiracy theory
Welcome to my conspiracy theory
Welcome to my conspiracy theory
Me against the world..."
After the song was done, they packed up and left. To walk straight into a riot, members of the Friends of Humanity League very much in force. A quick phonecall to the professor and they went home.
Leroy and Tate
"Tate!" Leroy called.
"Yes?"
"Have you been watching CNN?"
"If you mean the Displaced interview, yes," Tate replied, a smile on her face.
"And?"
"And I think this is just the turning point these negociations need," she said. "I've been getting such a headache from their sheer reluctance to initiate equal right for mutants."
"So I understand. You think this'll make a difference?"
"Are you kidding? Having mutants in the spotlight will sway this negociation one way or another. As long as the Displaced behave themselves, there shouldn't be much more of a problem - after all the US government does want a treaty with us, but they're in the political position of not wanting to look bad to the public," Tate shrugged. "Believe me, I know. You won't believe the paranoia coming from them."
She rubbed her head and Leroy smiled.
"By the way, have I told you how proud I am that you've managed to come so far? And no just in the negociations, but just, you. Personally."
Tate smiled back.
"Thank you," she said. "But I am still influenced."
"True. But you don't change body shape and hair colour everytime your company changes any more."
"No, I don't. Anyway, I guess now the best people to settle this treaty, are the mutants themselves. A little more good PR - if only 'sympathy PR' and this'll be in the bag."
Leroy smiled.
"Good."
Jean
Most of the mansion was watching the interview. Not too long after the interview ended, the phone rang, and Scott had a long conversation before hanging up the phone with a sigh.
"Lois Lane from the New York Times wants to come and interview the students. I told her we'd think about it." Jean came behind him and started rubbing his shoulders.
"Well, until Clark actually admitted he was an alien, everybody thought he was a mutant. Now that we're finally getting out in the open, well, we're going to have to deal with it all. It also seems to me that people are starting to remember Pink's murder. Good and bad things are coming from this."
"I really don't want to allow any reporters inside the school. I hope the Professor agrees with me, of course. Of course, I was against revealing ourselves from the beginning, but it seems too late for that."