Post by Graydon Creed on May 31, 2011 7:22:10 GMT -8
It was the most inconspicuous thing in the world; a delivery truck rolling up to a loading bay, reversing in so that it could offload and take on goods quickly and easily. Of course, that was not the entire truth of the matter; this was not a delivery of what, but of who: Graydon Creed.
To the average man or woman on the street Graydon Creed was a senator with a hard-line attitude when it came to wanting mutants to be regulated and controlled. He had been an advocate for registration, medical testing, even the "organised housing" that was basically a fancy word for a prison camp. Thankfully, there were Senators that went against him, and for the time being, the subject was up in the air.
Or so it seemed. State officials had been bribed, and some mutants had even been rounded up. Fortunately for Creed, this had been kept out of the news, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before word got out and there would be a backlash from what he called "mutant filth".
The large shutter-door of the truck was opened by the senator's personal security, and out stepped the man himself, straightening his tie as he looked at the little facility he and some of his friends had put together.
The loading bay itself was quiet; it had to be. Creed's paranoia meant that every member of the Friends Of Humanity, or "F.O.H." as it was known, was treated as a potential mole, and as such wasn't allowed within striking distance of Creed. Escorting him out of the room, Creed was flanked by four guards, each of them carrying fully automatic weapons.
The meeting hall was enormous; everything he'd hoped it would be. He'd been pretty dedicated and detailed in his plans for the hall itself, and now that he saw it for real, he could consider himself pleased. Well, as pleased as he was capable of being. Finally realising that it was all coming together for him, he smiled, his shoulders loosening as he relaxed...
It was going to be a good day.
To the average man or woman on the street Graydon Creed was a senator with a hard-line attitude when it came to wanting mutants to be regulated and controlled. He had been an advocate for registration, medical testing, even the "organised housing" that was basically a fancy word for a prison camp. Thankfully, there were Senators that went against him, and for the time being, the subject was up in the air.
Or so it seemed. State officials had been bribed, and some mutants had even been rounded up. Fortunately for Creed, this had been kept out of the news, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before word got out and there would be a backlash from what he called "mutant filth".
The large shutter-door of the truck was opened by the senator's personal security, and out stepped the man himself, straightening his tie as he looked at the little facility he and some of his friends had put together.
The loading bay itself was quiet; it had to be. Creed's paranoia meant that every member of the Friends Of Humanity, or "F.O.H." as it was known, was treated as a potential mole, and as such wasn't allowed within striking distance of Creed. Escorting him out of the room, Creed was flanked by four guards, each of them carrying fully automatic weapons.
The meeting hall was enormous; everything he'd hoped it would be. He'd been pretty dedicated and detailed in his plans for the hall itself, and now that he saw it for real, he could consider himself pleased. Well, as pleased as he was capable of being. Finally realising that it was all coming together for him, he smiled, his shoulders loosening as he relaxed...
It was going to be a good day.