“Come on, come on! This way! Move quickly, but keep hold of your senses! Don't trample any poor children! You're not animals! Move quickly, but stay calm! Keep it together and everything will be fine! With this many heroes, you have nothing to fear!”
Though somewhat close to shouting himself hoarse, the Margrave wore a triumphant smile. The crowds of civilians occupying the convention center seemed close to depleted, and he now stood above the last stretch of the flow, directing their motion from atop a park bench. He had, of course, worried that in their uncontrolled fear the people would have made a mad dash for safety, running down anyone in their way, and potentially leading to even more casualties than a stray villain might have caused. However, the sight of the populace remaining rational during its escape gladdened his heart. He did wonder why, but for lack of a better explanation, fell upon a single gratifying conclusion: that these people did believe in their heroes. Dozens of capes rallying together for their protection, to cooperate against an evil uprising...it must have inspired the ordinary men and women, making them feel as though as long as those heroes stood tall there was no reason to give into panic. The thought of losing out on the battle's excitement did occur to the Margrave, but now he felt happy with his lot—plus, there wasn't much of a chance of dying to a stray bullet or stone shard out here.
While scanning the crowd for injured or distressed, however, the Margrave perked up, forgetting about the melee inside the building. Something didn't seem right. The flow of people had been disrupted, and though the overseeing Ward couldn't quite identify how, he thought he could tell from the pattern that its cause lay in an individual moving sideways. But why? Surely no scum-sucking troll would try to get his kicks by messing with an evacuation? His mind raced. He could not throw away the possibility of it being linked to the Rockers' emergence; in fact, a less outrageously-dressed (not to mention less outrageously-armed) Rocker could have slipped into the crowd. Such a fellow would be beaten down the moment he tried hurting civilians, of course, so what could he be after? The Margrave scratched his chin. If there was some vagabond in here, and I'm not just overthinking things, how could he do the most damage? Not by attacking civilians, but...he could try to take a hostage or otherwise threaten them into going somewhere else. He snickered. Heh. Not while I'm around. His eyebrows shot up, just as a large figure detached itself from the crowd and sprinted his way. “Oh!”
With a cut-off cry the Margrave took a full-body tackle that bowled him over the bench's back and slammed him into the ground behind. If his chosen pedestal had not been in front of a planter filled with flowers, his career might have ended just there with a head cracked on concrete, but instead his full weight came down on prickly but nonlethal flower-clusters. Still, the hit drove the air from his lungs, and his vision swam. When he started to struggle, he found the man on top of him, pinning him down completely. Hands closed around his neck, and blind terror took hold of his mind. “Guck...ack...khhck!” He pried at the hands, scratching with his uncut fingernails, but his foe appeared to be made of sterner stuff. Blackness began to creep in on the edges of his vision, and it became harder and harder to resist.
“Hey!”
Another shape barreled into his assailant, sending him tumbling. The Margrave could see a fat man with a baseball hat and a beard, someone no more remarkable than your average truck driver. He could see some fear in this man's eyes, but determination too. Nearby, the Rocker got to his feet, but before he could retaliate two more civilians came at him from behind. They grappled him, taking hold of his arms and keeping him in place, until a moment later the trucker slammed a wild punch into his gut. Wheezing, the Rocker collapsed, and a couple more civilians joined in to kick him. As the Margrave watched, the trucker strode over and reached out a hand. “C'mon, bud. Let's get you up.”
The Ward took the offered hand and was hoisted to his feet. After massaging his temples and shaking his head to clear the last of the haze, he clapped a hand on the trucker's shoulder. ”Thank you, sir.” He glanced at the others, standing over the defeated villain wannabe. ”Thank you all. If not for you I might have been dead. Guess that makes you even better heroes than me! ….As supremely effervescent and phantasmagorical as I am. Go ahead evacuate, I'll clean up here.”
Though somewhat close to shouting himself hoarse, the Margrave wore a triumphant smile. The crowds of civilians occupying the convention center seemed close to depleted, and he now stood above the last stretch of the flow, directing their motion from atop a park bench. He had, of course, worried that in their uncontrolled fear the people would have made a mad dash for safety, running down anyone in their way, and potentially leading to even more casualties than a stray villain might have caused. However, the sight of the populace remaining rational during its escape gladdened his heart. He did wonder why, but for lack of a better explanation, fell upon a single gratifying conclusion: that these people did believe in their heroes. Dozens of capes rallying together for their protection, to cooperate against an evil uprising...it must have inspired the ordinary men and women, making them feel as though as long as those heroes stood tall there was no reason to give into panic. The thought of losing out on the battle's excitement did occur to the Margrave, but now he felt happy with his lot—plus, there wasn't much of a chance of dying to a stray bullet or stone shard out here.
While scanning the crowd for injured or distressed, however, the Margrave perked up, forgetting about the melee inside the building. Something didn't seem right. The flow of people had been disrupted, and though the overseeing Ward couldn't quite identify how, he thought he could tell from the pattern that its cause lay in an individual moving sideways. But why? Surely no scum-sucking troll would try to get his kicks by messing with an evacuation? His mind raced. He could not throw away the possibility of it being linked to the Rockers' emergence; in fact, a less outrageously-dressed (not to mention less outrageously-armed) Rocker could have slipped into the crowd. Such a fellow would be beaten down the moment he tried hurting civilians, of course, so what could he be after? The Margrave scratched his chin. If there was some vagabond in here, and I'm not just overthinking things, how could he do the most damage? Not by attacking civilians, but...he could try to take a hostage or otherwise threaten them into going somewhere else. He snickered. Heh. Not while I'm around. His eyebrows shot up, just as a large figure detached itself from the crowd and sprinted his way. “Oh!”
With a cut-off cry the Margrave took a full-body tackle that bowled him over the bench's back and slammed him into the ground behind. If his chosen pedestal had not been in front of a planter filled with flowers, his career might have ended just there with a head cracked on concrete, but instead his full weight came down on prickly but nonlethal flower-clusters. Still, the hit drove the air from his lungs, and his vision swam. When he started to struggle, he found the man on top of him, pinning him down completely. Hands closed around his neck, and blind terror took hold of his mind. “Guck...ack...khhck!” He pried at the hands, scratching with his uncut fingernails, but his foe appeared to be made of sterner stuff. Blackness began to creep in on the edges of his vision, and it became harder and harder to resist.
“Hey!”
Another shape barreled into his assailant, sending him tumbling. The Margrave could see a fat man with a baseball hat and a beard, someone no more remarkable than your average truck driver. He could see some fear in this man's eyes, but determination too. Nearby, the Rocker got to his feet, but before he could retaliate two more civilians came at him from behind. They grappled him, taking hold of his arms and keeping him in place, until a moment later the trucker slammed a wild punch into his gut. Wheezing, the Rocker collapsed, and a couple more civilians joined in to kick him. As the Margrave watched, the trucker strode over and reached out a hand. “C'mon, bud. Let's get you up.”
The Ward took the offered hand and was hoisted to his feet. After massaging his temples and shaking his head to clear the last of the haze, he clapped a hand on the trucker's shoulder. ”Thank you, sir.” He glanced at the others, standing over the defeated villain wannabe. ”Thank you all. If not for you I might have been dead. Guess that makes you even better heroes than me! ….As supremely effervescent and phantasmagorical as I am. Go ahead evacuate, I'll clean up here.”
