Red HoodPolicemen were now front and center in direct opposition to the gathered crowd. They had arrived with such great speed, a response time that many in the downtown areas would’ve enjoyed. The vocal chants that the crowd jeered have now deteriorated into isolated insults and shouts and angry noise. Nothing intelligible could be gleamed, other than collected animosity to the rich and privileged versus the poor mob.
It is a feast for controversy. Any of the active political parties in New Haven would have much to say on such an event. Already a reporter had some photos snapped and some words written, characterizing the event with his own biases. It was such attention directly on his own villa home that Thomas feared the most. He had just barely scraped by in his mayoral election, and such a controversy waiting to happen like this protest would be a feast for political opponents.
Montag overheard this anxiety as Thomas can be heard speaking to the Chief of Police, Clancy Robinson, a large man with a larger mustache.
“Put this down swiftly and quickly. No injuries and no blood spilled. I respect the freedom of speech but this is just an unruly mob.” The white haired mayor ordered like the policeman was his lackey. Clancy did not seem to object to this attitude himself.
“Roger that. We’ll have em pushed off. C’mon boys!”
Clancy grabbed a whistle and signaled for some policeman watching the gathering to come and join. They force their way through the crowd, akin to a pack of sharks flowing past a school of fish. One officer smacks into Montag’s shoulder as he sneaks in, nearly knocking him to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going, pal!” He shouted at him, though quickly moved on with his job to do.
The patrol has gathered into a fully armed and prepared force to match Abigail’s crowd. The impoverished are outnumbered 2 to 1, and the policemen have made sure to block the mob from interfering with coming and going guests, or making it inside the villa. They’ve done this by making a rectangular shaped box of men, lined up like a firing squad to prevent passage.
Clancy has taken to a megaphone, tapping the instrument before beginning to speak.
“By order of the New Haven police department, we order you to stand down and remove yourselves from the property! This is the private villa of the mayor himself, so this will be handled with the utmost efficiency from the head of police. Which is me, by the way. That's right, you're dealing with the leader of the police himself, with the full authority of the law behind me! So think about your next moves carefully"
The chief’s booming voice deafened and shook the crowd. This had become too real, with the sight of those stern jawed bobbies and their commander in chief barking behind them gave the appearance of a disciplined army. It was easy for the imagination to jump to images of war and conflict, fighting and death. The weaker willed of the crowd have already stopped their shouts and are beginning to pull back. Abigail can tell this distraction has reached it’s zenith, and would not stand a chance if the police decided to push forward. It was only Thomas’s orders that were staying Clancy’s hand.
The priest was in a difficult position. Should she stay with her flock to the end, risk a fight all in the name of buying Montag time? The words of Mary again flow in her head, warning her of the guarantee of a death tonight, surely such a commotion would lead to this. Was it right to abandon them to join the detective to better help Marie? The priest’s decision here would impact the fate of many people tonight already.
Meanwhile, Eduard had some comparatively easier decisions. He had infiltrated the grounds now, and before him lay a party in remission. Many of the guests were preoccupied with the events unfolding on the grounds, despite Thomas and his staff’s constant assurances that things were under control. The backyard is full of tables, chairs, drinks, waiters, a fountain and even a small vine garden section. A gazebo is in a corner of the yard, and some children play carefree as the adults do their strange business. A direct path to the backyard entrance of the villa is possible, but is closely monitored by staff and security who are on alert due to the disturbances. There is a stone wall at the garden, with a white barrier with green vines grown over and stretched like fingers. It is climbable, and possibly unnoticed if guests nearby are distracted enough. On the side there are two uniformed waiters taking a smoke break, perhaps an idea for bribery or other means is there to get oneself a uniform or another way inside.
The iron gates are brought to a close with a loud clang. The last of the invitees are inside, and for their protection they’ve been walled in. Montag is now trapped in Meropis, like Marie in her upstairs room. Many options lie ahead for him to get his entry inside, with their own risks and rewards.
There's tension in the air, but the party still seemed set to go on. A jazz band began their tune, a nice uplifting beat to hopefully drown out the noise from outside.
It was very fitting for the moment.
---
A curious girl hung over the balcony, observing the standoff outside the villa. Her eyes are bright with intrigue, as she dabbled in her head what the possible outcomes would be. Much more fun to do this than read fictitious books or play board games or propped up mechanical challenges. Here was true conflict as two opposing forces squared off. She could only imagine herself being there, an imposing police officer or an invigorated poor woman, leading a revolution like she’d read in her newspapers.
Her imagination grew wings and flew farther as her body remained in her small enclosed world.
It is a feast for controversy. Any of the active political parties in New Haven would have much to say on such an event. Already a reporter had some photos snapped and some words written, characterizing the event with his own biases. It was such attention directly on his own villa home that Thomas feared the most. He had just barely scraped by in his mayoral election, and such a controversy waiting to happen like this protest would be a feast for political opponents.
Montag overheard this anxiety as Thomas can be heard speaking to the Chief of Police, Clancy Robinson, a large man with a larger mustache.
“Put this down swiftly and quickly. No injuries and no blood spilled. I respect the freedom of speech but this is just an unruly mob.” The white haired mayor ordered like the policeman was his lackey. Clancy did not seem to object to this attitude himself.
“Roger that. We’ll have em pushed off. C’mon boys!”
Clancy grabbed a whistle and signaled for some policeman watching the gathering to come and join. They force their way through the crowd, akin to a pack of sharks flowing past a school of fish. One officer smacks into Montag’s shoulder as he sneaks in, nearly knocking him to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going, pal!” He shouted at him, though quickly moved on with his job to do.
The patrol has gathered into a fully armed and prepared force to match Abigail’s crowd. The impoverished are outnumbered 2 to 1, and the policemen have made sure to block the mob from interfering with coming and going guests, or making it inside the villa. They’ve done this by making a rectangular shaped box of men, lined up like a firing squad to prevent passage.
Clancy has taken to a megaphone, tapping the instrument before beginning to speak.
“By order of the New Haven police department, we order you to stand down and remove yourselves from the property! This is the private villa of the mayor himself, so this will be handled with the utmost efficiency from the head of police. Which is me, by the way. That's right, you're dealing with the leader of the police himself, with the full authority of the law behind me! So think about your next moves carefully"
The chief’s booming voice deafened and shook the crowd. This had become too real, with the sight of those stern jawed bobbies and their commander in chief barking behind them gave the appearance of a disciplined army. It was easy for the imagination to jump to images of war and conflict, fighting and death. The weaker willed of the crowd have already stopped their shouts and are beginning to pull back. Abigail can tell this distraction has reached it’s zenith, and would not stand a chance if the police decided to push forward. It was only Thomas’s orders that were staying Clancy’s hand.
The priest was in a difficult position. Should she stay with her flock to the end, risk a fight all in the name of buying Montag time? The words of Mary again flow in her head, warning her of the guarantee of a death tonight, surely such a commotion would lead to this. Was it right to abandon them to join the detective to better help Marie? The priest’s decision here would impact the fate of many people tonight already.
Meanwhile, Eduard had some comparatively easier decisions. He had infiltrated the grounds now, and before him lay a party in remission. Many of the guests were preoccupied with the events unfolding on the grounds, despite Thomas and his staff’s constant assurances that things were under control. The backyard is full of tables, chairs, drinks, waiters, a fountain and even a small vine garden section. A gazebo is in a corner of the yard, and some children play carefree as the adults do their strange business. A direct path to the backyard entrance of the villa is possible, but is closely monitored by staff and security who are on alert due to the disturbances. There is a stone wall at the garden, with a white barrier with green vines grown over and stretched like fingers. It is climbable, and possibly unnoticed if guests nearby are distracted enough. On the side there are two uniformed waiters taking a smoke break, perhaps an idea for bribery or other means is there to get oneself a uniform or another way inside.
The iron gates are brought to a close with a loud clang. The last of the invitees are inside, and for their protection they’ve been walled in. Montag is now trapped in Meropis, like Marie in her upstairs room. Many options lie ahead for him to get his entry inside, with their own risks and rewards.
There's tension in the air, but the party still seemed set to go on. A jazz band began their tune, a nice uplifting beat to hopefully drown out the noise from outside.
It was very fitting for the moment.
---
A curious girl hung over the balcony, observing the standoff outside the villa. Her eyes are bright with intrigue, as she dabbled in her head what the possible outcomes would be. Much more fun to do this than read fictitious books or play board games or propped up mechanical challenges. Here was true conflict as two opposing forces squared off. She could only imagine herself being there, an imposing police officer or an invigorated poor woman, leading a revolution like she’d read in her newspapers.
Her imagination grew wings and flew farther as her body remained in her small enclosed world.
