Surely, a bridal expo was one of those nice, wholesome places where nothing could possibly go wrong.
It was also one of those places that made Sveta feel deeply uncomfortable.

As far as work went, it could have been worse. Instead of spending a day at the office, she got to go out to one of the biggest fair events in new York City's fall season, and spend a day gawking at... fluffy white stuff. As a cultural experience, it was definitely priceless. As a young single woman, Sveta was glad no one else tagged along. She stuck out like a sore thumb, but at least no one was making any assumptions about her relationship status.

The mission was easy, more of a courtesy, really. One of the mutant couples that Haven had recently helped come to the USA was going to get married, as much for legal reasons as for pure celebration, and Sveta took it on herself to help arrange a tasteful wedding. Which really was brand new territory for her, given that she had only ever been engaged once, and that had crashed and burned spectacularly before it got to the miles of satin and the color coded napkins. So, here she was, trying to get some ideas, and maybe scavenge up some contact information to be used later. All kinds of people were milling about, looking at displays, tasting cakes, and cooking over flower arrangements. Sveta was grateful that most of them were so wrapped up in the wedding atmosphere that they did not even look twice at her long gloves and scarf.

That is, until someone started screaming somewhere in the "Veils and Tiaras" section.

Sore thumbs were a thing today. Honestly the last place the bloody Tash would ever reasonably be was a place like this. The Irishman had an expensive hobby, though, and he had to earn a living some way, right? So here he was, leaning on his extesive security based work history to score some easy dough. Standing be next to a giant booth that literally had 500 of the same table cloth in every color imaginable on it. He heard a little chatter over the little radio clipped to his chest, and leaned  his head down to chime in that he had already lunched. These people weren't very organized... Probably because the worst thing they ever had to deal with was an angry bridezilla to be here and there. 

He smirked to himself... Man, if he had a thing against brides rather than mutants these people would be screwed; he'd spotted seven vulnerabilities in the first three minutes before giving up on it and hardly doing his job like everyone else here.

Still, it did amaze him a little... He caught sight of the occasionally visible mutant in the crowd, walking around as if they fit in naturally. Even more strange, people barely batted an eyelash at it. Insanity. Sure, the freaks got by well enough in other countries, depending, but everywhere else he'd been prying eyes and strange looks were a given. In New York? It was like they were just like anyone else in most places.

Sickening.

He got the itch, and looked about real quick before shrugging, and wandering off to the outside to light up a smoke.

Halfway through his cigarette he was pulled out of his musings on bomb designs when a bunch of chatter came up on the radio... What was it? Something in the 'Veils and Tiarras' section? Did he hear the word mutant? His teeth gritted a little bit. See? When would this city learn?

Kiernan flicked his last half to the side and sprinted toward the scene, eager to see what they were dealing with. 

"SHE IS NOT EVEN A MUTANT, YOU A**HOLE!"

Sveta, against her better judgment, headed towards the source of the commotion. She would have been comfortable in her vigilante outfit, but that had been stored away a long time ago. Still, something was happening, and she had the instinct of trying to see if help was needed.

Help was definitely needed.

"WE ALREADY SENT OUT THE F*** INVITATIONS!" the screaming continued, now accompanied with crashing sounds, and muffled cries from the crowd. People were beginning to move in the opposite direction, instead of rubbernecking, which meant things had escalated to a potentially dangerous situation. Sveta walked around some booths, and eventually, getting tired of fighting the crowd, clambered onto a podium to get a better look.

In the middle of Veils and Tiaras, a woman was obviously having a meltdown. Halfway stuffed into an expensive-looking dress, she was extending her hands towards a man cowering against a desk as if she was ready to strangle him. Around her, things were shaking and falling in a mess of white silk and satin, and... shapes were moving with the jerking movements of zombies in her general directions.

"You gotta be f*** kidding me" Sveta muttered under her breath.

"THIS ENTIRE PLACE IS A LIE! IT CAN GO STRAIGHT TO HELL! WITH YOU!"

Mannequins all over the place were beginning to twitch and move, dragging gowns and veils along as they headed for the nearest living target.