Persi had no idea what was going on.

He hadn't for a while. Or, at first he had; "if I ever see you again, you're dead" was difficult to misunderstand. He just hadn't wanted to. Even though it was obvious, and clear, and he'd known it would happen eventually for years. Even if he didn't like his parents, and knew they'd never liked him, and had been saying for years he wouldn't care for them even if they died... it still hurt to understand.

At least it was summer. Early summer, but summer; parks didn't freeze, and cold and damp didn't mean dead. Or thirsty; the park water fountains were on and working, and the parks were still empty enough that Persi wasn't too humiliated to go near them. The first two days hadn't been bad; his hair was only slightly messier than normal, and he wasn't dirty. He looked like just any other kid. He'd even had money in his pocket, so eating was no problem, though he knew it would become one. The last few days... he still had (a little) money, but he'd been without a shower, brush or clean clothes long enough, it felt like any time he was in someone's sight they had to know he'd been kicked out. He wasn't hungry enough to force himself to put up with that yet.

Sleeping was easy, though he had given up trying to sleep in trees after the first night. He had what still felt like a perfect mental image of the fox that had woken him up one night, jumping and running away; he still sort of hoped he'd get ahold of paper and be able to draw it.

Avoiding people meant he had no clue what was going on, though. Persi had seen people, around the streets; getting into fights, or bruised and cut and burned after them, or roaming with the attitude that meant they were about to fight. And Persi might be able to fight back, but he knew better than to let half a dozen guys surround him. That wasn't a fight anymore; just a group ego boost with a victim. So any time he saw someone with what he recognized as an aggressive attitude, or any large groups of people, he left, even if he had no idea what the fighting was about.

Like that. That girl definitely looked aggressive. Only one, so she probably couldn't do too much, but still aggressive. Persi preferred not to get into fights even if they wouldn't end in him being badly hurt, so once he was sure she was headed in his direction, he turned back toward the more thickly treed areas and headed away. She could find someone else to slap.

Isabel was in a terrible mood. The issues surrounding the assault of the gargoyle mutant hadn't yet been resolved, but had seemed to increase from the time she'd first seen the broadcast. And not only had she been unable to track down and murder the cops responsible due to a certain blowhard, but her issues with said blowhard had also seemed to double. She wasn't exactly trying to tear his throat out anymore, but having to be minimally civil to him wasn't exactly appealing, either.

She'd been avoiding the Rec Room at the Sanctuary as best she could. It seemed to be the new gathering place within the building for the residents to flip between news stations and chat about what was going on. Lisa highly disapproved of Isabel's budding new habit of destroying the TV when the news offended her, and so the latter had decided it would be best to avoid the temptation entirely. Leaving the Sanctuary was the best way to do so, and so she had taken to the streets to do some wandering and perhaps work off some of her frustration. It wouldn't be her fault if some schmuck tried to start trouble with her. She'd set them right.

Speaking of schmucks, she probably wouldn't have batted an eye at the kid that was en route to pass by her had he not abruptly turned and doubled back the way he'd come. It only took a second to decide that she was going to follow him. She'd been so frustrated having to sit back and behave while everything was going on, or at least feeling like she had to after her latest discussion with Zephyr. She was itching to do something, to get involved somehow. She wasn't going to play nice forever while there was an issue of mutant rights and violence against mutants cropping up everywhere the past few weeks.

Her stride lengthened as she moved to catch up to the kid. It was easy enough seeing as she was taller and had longer legs than he did. And despite his haste to turn away from her, he didn't seem to be in much of a hurry walking away. Her armor was already forming, unseen, as she approached and her hands were curling into fists. Guilty or not, this kid had just made himself the object that would be taking the brunt of Isabel's pent up aggression.

"Hey!" she called, louder than necessary in relation to how close she'd drawn to her query. If he didn't turn quickly enough, she'd close the distance between them and grab a handful of his shirt. Hell, she might even do so anyway just to see the look on the kid's face. "Mutant or human?" she demanded, a note of disdain obvious as she offered the second option. She wouldn't clarify what she meant, whether she was asking for his breed or where his sympathies lay. She'd only give him one chance to scuttle away relatively unharmed.

S*** s*** s*** f*** Persi was going to die. That was probably going to happen soon anyway, but he still really didn't want to. Also, dying of cold or hunger or falling out of a tree sounded a lot less painful than becoming the target of what Persi was pretty sure was the worst murderer in the country. Isabel was not known for clean corpses.

And she was talking. Persi was more than slightly distracted by the hand in his shirt. Which at least told him he wasn't actually as dirty as he felt, if she was willing to touch it. For all the good that would do; he kind of wished now that he was dirtier, since that might at least keep his face from looking so white. Though it wouldn't hide the freezing. Why did that even matter? He was going to be dead anyway; he doubted hell would leave him time to worry about whether he'd looked scared of the girl that murdered him. Also? Looking scared of Isabel was totally legitimate. Anyone who didn't had brain damage.

And she was talking. Persi was probably supposed to answer. That would be easier if he had enough non-panic brain left to hear it. Also, if he could get words past the way his throat had locked up. That took several tries. "What?"

With the crazy actions of New Yorkers causing a toll on Sarah, the brunette did what she could to remain calm. She wanted to help keep the peace between everyone, but there was little she could do with such a large mass of people. These riots were nothing like the school fights she helped calm down. The people involved were different too. Most of them, at least as of late, had begun to become violent. After a long and tiring day of keeping the other staff from attacking some rude customers, Sarah moved to a quiet-ish place to relax.

She was up in a tree with her eyes closed when she heard someone yell out. One of her eyes opened to peek through the leaves to find another brunette around her age and a slightly shorter black haired kid. Something about the kid caused Sarah to open both eyes. With a quietness that came from climbing trees all her life, she started down to find out what was going on.

>>"Mutant or human?"

That didn't sound good. Deciding to see what the kid decided to answer, she waited with her arms holding her up on a branch. Her legs dangled as she waited to hear what the answer would be. She hoped he was smart.

>>"What?"

Sarah felt like smacking her head against the branch.  Instead, she decided to be a little dramatic.  With a heavy push she dropped to the ground.  One leg bent to catch her weight while the left slide out to help balance herself.  Her right hand hit the ground a split second after her legs, helping with her balance.

"What seems to be the problem, Sweetie?" she asked as she slowly stood up.

Isabel's expression darkened upon hearing the answer that was spluttered at her. Or lack of an answer in this case. 'What' was not an acceptable answer. She'd spoken very clearly when she'd accosted him and considering what had been going on in the city the past few weeks, he should at least have had some kind of inkling about the sort of answer she was looking for. Acting clueless was going to get him nowhere fast.

"Don't play dumb with me, kid. You heard me. Human or mut-" she began when a dull thud and the mild shaking of disturbed foliage overhead drew her attention. She swiveled on the spot to find the source of the voice addressing her, the boy's shirt still grasped firmly in her hand. She bristled at the sound of the pet name she was addressed by and sneered as she looked the girl up and down, clearly unimpressed by the sudden appearance.

One thing was for sure, until she figured out what these people were and who they aligned themselves with, she wanted them both in her sights, preferably with both hands free to use. And so she gave the boy's shirt a sharp tug, aiming to swing him around and send him stumbling toward the interfering girl. "You little boyfriend doesn't understand English too well," she said, the word boyfriend spat like it was a dirty word as she spoke to the girl. "Since he's so inept, you can answer for the both of you. Human or mutant." Her potential body count had just doubled, and everyone knows that two bodies are better than one.

"Human."

The voice that said it had no qualms about the announcement. He was still several yards back from the scene that had been playing out under the tree, but he'd have said the same thing to the girl's face just as loudly, and with just as much feeling.

In one hand he held a plastic shopping bag with diapers in it; in the other, he held a gun.

Riots. Mutant riots. Because normal riots, and normal mutant vandalism, weren't enough for this city anymore.

All Rupert had wanted was to buy some goddamn diapers for Lori's goddamn rabbit baby. He shouldn't have needed to order her to stay inside while he went out, and he sure as hell shouldn't have had to bring his gun for a trip to the corner store.

These days, it felt like everyone was a goddamn mutant. His girlfriend. Her bastard child. Half of his old MRC department at the NYPD. Reporters on Wolf News. If a man couldn't trust Wolf to be the voice of conservative zealotry, what could he believe in? And here, on his way home, who should he find but the spoiled princess of them all: Isabel Duskmoor, roughing up a random pedestrian boy.

If everyone in this city was a goddamn mutant, then humans had to stick together.

"If you've got a problem with us," he continued steadily, "then you can take it up with me, sweetheart. Kids, I'd recommend backing the hell up."

Their meatsacks were blocking his shot.

Riots were bad for clothing. As evidence, Drew was sporting a slightly bloody blue t-shirt that was ripped in several places from all the idiots that had seen fit to grab at it during fights. Ever since that new cast had turned the city into a hate fueled barbeque Drew had been out patrolling the streets and breaking up the worst of the fights. Looters he didn't care much about. It was the incredibly vicious fights that he broke up before they progressed to murders.

The two guys he'd left bleeding out in an alley might point out that he didn't seem to care much about that. They'd be right for the most part. Killing didn't fluster him much anymore as long as the victim had it coming. Drew turned a corner. There was a park across the way and he crossed to it. Wouldn't hurt to check it out. Drew idly wiped most of the blood off of his broadsword on the tail of his shirt as he headed into the park. Any other day he wouldn't be openly carrying it but straight up brawling wouldn't hack it if he had to face a fellow mutant.

And speaking of he thought he heard voices and the words mutant and human. Speeding his pace he came in view just as a man with a shopping back proudly proclaimed his humanity and pulled a gun on someone that he had rather hoped to avoid meeting. Ever.

Isabel Duskmoor.

Drew had an inky reminder of the last time he'd heard her voice. Thankfully she didn't know who he was or he suspected he'd already be pierced through. Despite the urge to turn tail and run, there were a couple of people she was threatening that needed rescuing first.

"Can anyone get in on this party, or is it a private affair?"

He strode forward with his sword casually held but definitely pointed at a certain renowned murderess.

Persi fell when Isabel shoved him. He was not particularly inclined to object to the fact, since resisting falling would have meant trying to stay closer to her, but did scramble back to his feet and start backing away as soon as he finished falling. He stopped abruptly to sputter when his get-away-from-the-legendary-murderer goal was briefly overwritten by an accusation he had not expected, and did not appreciate. "Boyfriend? No!" As soon as he said it, though, his mouth snapped shut and he began edging backwards again, next to the (familiar looking) woman who'd appeared.

"Hu--? I'm--" Persi's mouth snapped shut again, even though the half-formed comment hadn't been particularly loud. Really, he'd already managed to attract the anger of Isabel, somehow; whether he offended the guy with the gun or not probably wouldn't make any difference, but he'd still try not to. Instead he kept backing up past the woman, until something unexpectedly poked him in the shoulder.

Persi jumped, somehow managed not to scream, and spun to discover a tree branch. He stared at it for a second, glared, then glanced back over his shoulder and ducked under the branches. Being up a tree wouldn't stop a bullet, certainly, and might but probably wouldn't stop Isabel, but it was a pine tree. If he was really, really lucky, maybe they'd forget he was there, or think he'd run somewhere else and leave to look for him.

...Or maybe not. It was a pine tree, but by the time Persi got a decent way up into it, it turned out to not be particularly dense, as far as branches went. Well, he was still ten or so feet above them all already; maybe they'd just forget to look up. Either way, he was not climbing back down any time soon.

And someone else had arrived. Who... had a sword. Was that even legal? Persi was pretty sure it wasn't, but then again, if the first guy was allowed to carry around... a... were those diapers?

...What. Really, what? Was Isabel regularly stalked by a trio (and dear God, Persi hoped it was just a trio. If there were more he didn't think his sanity would survive) of... crazy didn't seem to cover it. It was like they wanted to be superheroes, but they were all collectively crazy, and in a dystopian movie.

Oh, this was not going to end well.

>>"You little boyfriend doesn't understand English too well. Since he's so inept, you can answer for the both of you. Human or mutant."

Sarah took note of the woman at that point. She was definitely a mutant. While Sarah would usually try to talk her way out of a situation like she and the kid were in, that idea wasn't going to work at the moment.

She ignored the kid as he spoke up. The woman wasn't going to listen. Sarah did however watch from her peripheral as he made a move to run. If the woman in front of them really wanted, they'd be down before they could get too far. When he was out of her sight, she focused more on the brown haired woman in front of her. Before she could answer the woman another voice spoke up from behind her.

>>"Human. If you've got a problem with us, then you can take it up with me, sweetheart."

The next words were a warning. Without much of an option, Sarah took a few steps to the side. As she moved, keeping the woman in her sights, she heard another voice. 'Did everyone decide to come to the park today?' she wondered.

>>"Can anyone get in on this party, or is it a private affair?"

"It's private," Sarah answered. "But I think we can make an exception, Duncan."

She wasn't sure if the man got the reference, but it made her feel better about the fact he was carrying around a broadsword... in New York City... in the middle of the day... Yeah, even the Highlander reference wasn't helping with that.

"Well, Sweetie, as you can see, we're not alone. I really don't want a fight to break out, but if we must."

She left the comment open. Yes, the woman was probably a mutant, but it was always best to give a choice. Sarah hated unnecessary violence, but she would defend herself if need be. She'd probably get banged up a lot, but she would take a beating standing still. Hopefully, no one would get mortally wounded. Even if there was a gun present.

From the second a familiar voice rang out with the detested word, Isabel no longer had any interest in the pair of younger kids. Her attention rapidly slid past them to catch sight of the ragged older man over their shoulder. A wide grin split her face as she took in the sight of him and his silly little gun as he ordered the other two out of his way. She didn't even bother to glance at the boy as he scurried away and, from the sound of it, up a nearby tree.

"Long time no see, Wheezy," she said, her hands dropping to her hips in a defiant, yet relaxed posture, trying to get the message across that she wasn't at all intimidated by him and his little toy. "How's the lung treating you? Or what's left of it anyway. Oh, and the leg? Still got that limp? You know I'm always willing to even things out for you."

Taunting an anti-mutant zealot was one of the easiest things in the world, particularly one that shared such a rich, bloody history with Isabel. And his little gun wouldn't work this time. Though before she could say as much some other fool waltzed up behind Rupert and she couldn't help but shift her attention as the sun glinted off the edge of the sword held in his hand.

A sword. The kid was actually, honest to god carrying a sword around New York City. If there hadn't been violent riots breaking out all over the place she might have been a little more surprised. Still, even such an unconventional weapon wouldn't be much use to him and after her grin momentarily faltered it was back in place, larger and more menacing than ever.

"A couple of humans trying to gang up on me," she began, letting her gaze shift momentarily back to the girl that had challenged her before sliding back to Rupert and the young man behind him. "Me, the most well-known killer in this city. Don't make me laugh, Sweetie."

She had to fight the urge to do just that. It was pathetic, really, that these people thought they stood even a remote chance of besting her. All they had at their disposal were a couple of weapons and smart mouths. She was quite literally built for killing.

She lifted one hand almost lazily off of her hip and dropped her gaze to her palm as a blade of her own began to grow from it, only stopping after it had grown several feet and ended in a nasty point. She gave it a twirl as it detached from her palm and four loops encircled her fingers, each growing one short spike as her hand settled around the base of the weapon, giving her both grip and an added functionality. She pretended to stifle a yawn as she planted to tip of the blade on the pavement and leaned her weight onto it, letting her attention drift back to the small group of wannabe heroes.

"You wanna piece of me? Come and get it."

Isabel was a sloppy fighter. It wasn’t fights she had experience in; it was slaughters. She picked weaker victims, cut through them, and patted her ego on the back for being so damn Homo superior. Like this, right now: she’d singled out the wimpiest young male in the city, and started roughing him up for fun. A kid who couldn’t even keep his balance, much less hold his ground: a kid who... honest to god, a kid who just treed himself. That would have been a great strategy, if he’d been threatened by a vicious turtle. A vicious mutant was more liable to mop up the rest of them, then thank him for waiting around so nicely for his turn.

Isabel didn’t have what it took, for real combat. Not the training, not the reflexes, not even the basic intincts. Her attention was all over the place: any new sight or sound caused her eyes to move in that direction, like a dog reacting. She even spent a good few seconds staring at her own hand while she formed a sword. Did she need to see it, to form it correctly? He hoped so, but didn’t pin his hopes on it. Did she need to see it, to strike a dramatic pose?

That, he could believe.

Isabel wasn’t a fighter. She was a murder who liked to have an audience.

So what did that leave Rupert to work with?

Squirrel boy.

MacLeod.

And a young woman with good taste in shows from the nineties, but a bad sense of her own abilities. She was still way, way too close to Isabel; he wasn’t even sure the bonemancer would need to move to cut her down the next time she mouthed off.

Then there was himself. He had a gun, a bag of diapers, and a longer history with Ms. Duskmoor than most lived to boast.

“She’ll want to play with her food,” he said under his breath, to the swordsman. “Think you can get those two out of here before she’s done toying with me?”

Rupert wasn’t a fighter, either. He was limping, wheezing bait.

Facing down a rather famous murderer wasn't one of Drew's best decisions ever. Then again good decision making wasn't part of his skill set. He'd made her cocky grin slide for a second and that made him feel at least a little better about the whole thing. If he died he'd die knowing he gave a famous killer a few seconds pause. He took a second to smirk at the Duncan comparison that the non-murderous woman made. At least he hoped she wasn't murderous. They weren't running a two for one special were they? Well, that aside, she was on their side temporarily anyway. She'd compared him to someone with a fair bit more experience with a blade than he had. It buoyed his ego slightly, ever so slightly.

With his attention fixed on Isabel as it was, it was hard not to notice the sheer confidence she exuded. Hopefully that egotism would be to their advantage. Crews more motley than they had managed to take down people like her. So Drew smirked cheerfully as she tried to intimidate them. She'd probably only like it more if he showed fear. As the diaper bearing gentleman spoke, Drew found himself nodding. He agreed wholeheartedly that the woman and child needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Though considering that the boy had gone and treed himself like frightened game Drew suspected that he wouldn't be easily moved.

Hoping that the nod was enough of a response for the diaper gent, Drew slowly began to move forward. If Isabel took a swipe at the woman, Drew wanted to be in range to haul her out of the way.

Sarah watched warily as the other woman created a blade from what appeared to be bone. She hadn't seen anything that dangerous since she had arrived in New York.

>>"You wanna piece of me? Come and get it."

The brunette wasn't sure what Duncan and Hex were talking about, but she kept her eyes on the now armed mutant woman. She then heard who she figured was Duncan move closer to her.

"Well Honey, I really don't want a piece of your ass," Sarah stated. She may not be able to fight a mutant like this woman, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

So no one wanted to make the first move, huh? Figures. Humans usually were a bunch of cowards with big mouths and very little to back the words up with. Wheezy usually at least had a little bit of fight in him, even if it was with human weaponry and a pile of sass. He was still fun to play with anyway and she owed him from their last meeting. The other three were nobodies, just nameless faces in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least two of them seemed somewhat promising entertainment-wise. The kid that treed himself not so much.

Her gaze shifted back to the mouthy young woman and a grin split her features. If she knew Wheezy, he'd jump in as soon as someone else was in trouble, as soon as he thought she was distracted enough to get a shot or two in with his little gun. It looked as if it was going to have to be her that would need to break the tension. She'd be getting old before one of the other three made a move.

"No takers? What a pity. I thought you had more stones than that at least, Wheezy," she drawled, her eyes not leaving the girl as she spoke. She was certainly being the most outspoken and at the very least it made Isabel curious whether or not she could back it up. She'd have to find out.

Her free hand lifted from her hip and shot in the girl's direction, aiming to curl her fingers around her throat. She wasn't going to kill her just yet, but she had to do something to jump start the party.