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For a man who couldn’t speak, Dorian had a lot to say. He’d become adept at writing quickly with whatever was available, at using sign language with those who knew it, at doing anything in his power to communicate without needing to speak. He had ideas about this whole mutant rights movement, too. Unusual ideas, truths often gone unspoken outside the blogosphere, where Dorian was so active, and where he had a small, but loyal following.

The riots gave Dorian inspiration. Maybe now, his words would resonate with a broader audience. So he prepared a pamphlet with some of the most important aspects of his ideology. They were a hit on the blogosphere, and with the fringe mutant rights groups in NYC. He had masses of them printed, and worked with the activist groups in town to distribute them. Soon, it was hard to walk ten feet without bumping into another one of Dorian’s pamphlets in the Sanctuary or at any university.

A few stacks also appeared one day in Xavier’s Sister School. The person responsible tried to keep their identity a secret, but almost everyone knew it was Kaitlyn, no matter how often she denied it.

The first wave of pamphlets had messages like this:

Mutants are an advanced form of human life.

Why, then, you might ask, are so many of us poor and destitute? Why, then, do visibly mutated and ‘outed’ mutants have the highest unemployment rate of any minority in America today? Why, then, can we find virtually no such mutants in leadership positions in our government, and so few in the business world? Why, then, have mutants found themselves registered and thrown in concentration camps so many different times in so many different countries, including our own?

Because mutants are an advanced form of human life, and everyone knows it. The mundane humans fear us, because they know that they are becoming obsolete. They fear us, and so they hate us. They hate us, and so they use everything at their disposal to oppress us. They stop us from getting jobs, and they prevent our voices from being heard in government. They control this country, and because they can’t kill us all off or kick us out, they try to keep us down. They try, and they succeed.

It is true that there are some mutants who still manage to make it to the top of American society, but this is not a sign that our lot in life will change, or even can change. Some of these mutants got to where they are only by hiding their mutations. Most of those who managed to climb the ladder while being open about their mutations could only do so with the help of their human friends. All of these ‘successful’ mutants have succeeded because they have separated themselves from their mutant heritage. These mutants are only barely deserving of the word ‘mutant.’ They do nothing to help mutantkind improve its lot. They feel no obligation to help their fellow mutants get ahead. In fact, by their very existence, they give many of us the illusion that we, too, can achieve the American dream by our own merits, if we work hard enough. They give us the illusion that humanity can learn tolerance, and that one day we will finally be accepted. But these ideas are lies, and those who believe them are naïve. The ‘successful’ class of mutants is just another tool that the Human Conspiracy uses to placate us, to keep us in our place at the very bottom.

In order to make the world change to accept mutants, we need power. And the only way for us to achieve this power is to unite. We can’t strive to be like the ‘successful’ liars that get ahead in this world, only looking out for ourselves. We need to recognize that we, as mutants, are part of a larger community of mutants, and that we, as mutants, need to look out for each other. Those mutants in high places should remember where they came from, and reach back to help pull the rest of us forward.

But they don’t. And whenever we try to unite as a people, human hatred and law enforcement work together to maintain the status quo. The humans dismiss any mutant organization that does not promote their interests as “terrorists” or “gangsters.” But this is just another lie that they use. Even when we do use illegal means to further our cause, it is only because we have no other choice.

Everything you know about the M drug is a lie. The “negative health effects” of the drug as cited by the government don’t have a single reputable scientific study backing them, and M users are no more a public safety concern than natural-born mutants, or mundane humans with licenses to carry concealed firearms. The stated reasons behind turning M into a schedule 1 controlled substance are lies. The real reason is that the government just wanted fewer ‘freaks’ like us running around.

The M drug could have been the most powerful tool we had in the fight against human hatred. Their hatred is a result of a collective inferiority complex on their part, and the fear that we’re rising to replace them. While we are, in fact, rising to replace them, that doesn’t mean we have to hate each other. The M drug means that humans can have our power, too. Although their genes are inferior, M allows these humans to overcome their genes. It undermines their hatred by giving them hope that they, too, can become like us. And unlike the hopes they give us for social advancement, the promises of the M drug held true. The Human Conspiracy saw M for the deadly assault on their anti-mutant position that it is; therefore, it had to become illegal. Now that it’s criminalized, those who sell and use it are vilified, denying America the most promising cure for the hatred that haunts us.

The power and hatred of the Human Conspiracy are such that any effort to change the system from the inside is doomed to fail. The only way that we mutants can take control of our own destinies is by breaking away from America entirely. Mutants should work to establish a Mutant colony, where we can have our own government, on our own land. Humans don’t want us in their land, after all, and we shouldn’t want to be in theirs either. It’s only natural that we should part ways.

The X-Men and groups like them have been toxic to the goals of the Mutant Rights movement, whether they meant to be or not. While you may find some of their rhetoric enticing, don’t let them fool you. Much of their philosophy plays into the hands of our oppressors. Their naïve calls for tolerance and unity with humans prevent their fellow mutants from realizing the truth: and the truth is that those things are unattainable. They should either help us in the fight for freedom, equality, and self-determination, or they should get out of our way.

The pamphlets also had the web addresses of several activism websites, and advertised upcoming protests and ways to get involved.

There’s a saying about curiosity, and it has something to do with cats. Dorian raised an eyebrow at Alma, then turned to an invisible dry erase board behind him.

Protip: Don’t ask questions about organized crime.

Leaving those words floating in the air where Alma could see them, he turned his attention to the closet. Soon it was closed, locked, and adorned with a sign that read ‘DO NOT ENTER.’ Dorian looked Alma in the eyes and gestured towards the sign with a flourish. He looked down at his feet, getting ready to kick at another shadow gnome thing until he realized that they’d all disappeared.

He grabbed another invisible board.

I help people sell it. Good money. Helps get rid of mutant-hate. Don’t tell Lisa.

Of course, Lisa was in on M trade, too. She also knew that Dorian specifically told nosy residents not to tell her about things. A lot of those residents told Lisa all about those things.

Roach posted in the phase 1 thread that some restaurants might have rules against serving mutant patrons. I was thinking we could have either a nonviolent protest, or a semi-violent protest to take advantage of that.

Here's the plan. Dorian and a visible mutant decide to eat at a nice restaurant with a rule against serving mutants. When the management tells them to go away, they ignore the management, sit down at one of the tables, and Dorian erects some invisible walls all around the table. The police have to come in to get rid of them, and they both end up getting arrested (just as planned). The media would probably show up at some point, too. Meanwhile, somebody else in the restaurant (probably a non-visible mutant) is filming the entire thing as it goes down.

(Getting arrested is a fairly common tactic for activist groups. Makes the system look terrible, when you play it right. For example, there was a gay couple in Texas who got arrested because they chained themselves together in the clerk's office after their request for a marriage license was denied.)

There are two ways we could handle the situation from there. In the first case, Dorian and his fellow mutant arrestable would actually go to court. In the second case, the Order could, without killing any policemen, break Dorian and his visibly mutated friend out of prison. They would leave a note behind for the authorities, declaring that they no longer have faith in the legal system or the mutant-hating society that they live in, so they'd rather just leave without bothering with the courts.

In each case, they'd probably spend enough time in prison to cause a ruckus. The media would gobble this story up, and the other rioters / protesters would get even more ammunition for riots/protests.

So! Any comments/concerns? Anyone want to be a part of this mess? You could be Dorian's fellow arrested protestor, or the guy filming it all. You could be the NYPD person (or X-Man) who has to take them away. You could be someone in the restaurant watching it all go down, or a media-person reporting on the mess. You could even be the lawyer (or Order Member) who makes sure the two protestors get out of jail, by whatever means.

Five months? Dang. How had he not noticed her running around before now? He knew he could get absorbed in his work sometimes, but young women with that level of attractiveness were just not common around the Sanctuary.

…Maybe he should verify that story with Lisa. Throwing his last words down the hallway, he held up his pointer finger, signaling for Alma to wait while he pulled out his phone and

that’s when he noticed them. Little black blobs with glowing white eyes, swarming all around them. He scrunched his eyebrows and stared at the creatures for a moment. Since they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat, he continued with his original plan: texting Lisa. Is there an alma elizondo living here?

While he waited for a response from Lisa, he pocketed the phone and grabbed another board to ask another question: Why are we being surrounded by shadow gnomes? He gestured towards the bodachs as he revealed his question.

And that’s when he noticed one of the big ones. He used one hand to hold up his dry erase board, and used his free hand to lean against an invisible wall between him and it.

On the other side of that door, there was now an invisible concrete wall. And on the other side of that invisible wall, there was a tall, slender, dark-haired man with an invisible dry erase board. The board had words written on it in red ink:

Excuse me, madam, but wtf r u doin?

Dorian had left the stash alone for fifteen minutes, and somebody already found it.

They’d just finished teleporting it all in, too. He had the key to lock the closet in his pocket, along with a freshly-written sign that said “DO NOT ENTER” and some tape to keep it on the door. Most of the Sanctuary residents were intelligent enough to take that kind of sign seriously.

Dorian was happy to change the subject; he was probably bringing up all sorts of bad memories. Assuming absolutely anything she was saying was grounded in reality. He was beginning to think that there was some truth to it, but it didn't hurt to maintain a healthy amount of doubt. Especially with a young woman who kept a pet skunk and thought it was a cat.

Yes, he wrote. I even used to be in my high school's debate team and thought I'd be a politician when I grew up. My vocal chords went away when my mutation manifested, though. I also accidentally stabbed myself. Had to go to the ER.