The Message [o]

[Daedalus]

There were a great many people scattered about the streets of New York City. Some human, others mutant, all were terrible creatures. Either way, the hustle and bustle of the big apple was quite the sight despite the prejudices people had for humans.

The blond mutant, with his hood covering his face, would be standing in the middle of Times Square. He was unassuming in features, unable to be seen as mutant for the moment, mostly considering his body was normal in appearance. Not like he truly cared about such trivial things, but it did help him blend in...unlike someone with say..a frog-like body and tongue or something. His mind would slowly tap into all the electronics in the area, seeping into their systems while bypassing their security measures.

Firewalls were simply useless against him and his super powered mind. And there, he was in. All the screens around Times Square would instantly fade to white noise before simply going black. Once that occurred, a shadowy figure would appear on each and every screen and home television in the general area. The floor was all his, he could speak, he could be heard, for he had a message to all.

"To all the people of this city. Human. Mutant. And everything in between." His voice was scrambled, his identity secret. All the while, his body uttered not a single word. He could transmit each thought he had and have the screens play back what he wanted to say. There was no need to really speak.

"A struggle between evolution and prejudice continues to exist. Where those who are different are constantly oppressed, beaten, killed because of their differences. A sort of..modern day holocaust. And yet, the cries and screams of the victims go unheard, unanswered, uncared for. What makes our society any better than the Nazis of Germany's old regime?"

He'd take a brief pause to gather his thoughts. "In those regards, humankind is a species which hates change, will fight it to the end and will eliminate any other species in order to show their might. In other words, humankind is a race of violent savages, each caring about only themselves, constantly pushing the idea of war into each other's heads like a pack of uneducated fiends. And is with this I say, mutants are not here to start wars, but merely to live their lives. And there is a message I've come to give...." Another pause followed, Max smirking slightly from underneath his hood a dark corner of Times Square. Those enjoying their Saturday night would get quite the message indeed.

"We are everywhere. We are everyone. Violence will no longer be tolerated. For each unprovoked lynching or attack upon a mutant will come the lynching or beating of another. An eye for an eye, yet us mutants will never be blind. Not to the callousness, not to the lynching, not to the prejudice, not to the holocaust you've so graciously begun. My message is....we are here to stay."

The screens would go black once more, fading into the breaking news of the city. Each reporting on what happened. Max, all the while would simply stand back and watch things unfold.

[Kinetix]

Michael walked down the street, munching on a classic New York hot dog on the way home. Work had been good, nice and quiet. No raids, no stake-outs, and no meetings. Granted he still had to haze the new recruits and that meant hours of tossing them around like rag dolls. At least he got to enjoy a new swivel chair.

At the moment he was heading home. His wife was probably wondering where he was. Their new son, Vincent, was very energetic and hated being put to bed. Michael's eyes were dark and heavy. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten more than a few hours sleep. Hopefully the Division would get a mutant with telepathy or could spray sleeping gas. Then he could finally sleep, or put Vincent to sleep.

As he stopped at a crosswalk across from Times Square, Michael pulled out his iPhone and started up a text. After three hundred characters his phone suddenly went white and a shadowy figure appeared. It immediately started proclaiming some overdone philosophical bull and threatening retaliation. Might be new to the people, but Michael put down revolutionary groups all the time.

But this was obviously the work of a technopath, or someone really good at hacking with a high-power transmitter. The latter was unlikely, so this was probably the work of an unregistered mutant. Needless to say, Michael wasn't fond of technopaths. They were tricky to find. At least beastials didn't hide behind anonymity like some YouTube troll.

As his phone returned to normal, text message gone as the device had reset itself, Michael sighed. He wouldn't be getting home early tonight. Quickly, he called up HQ. "Hey, it's me. I need you to trace a technopath who just hacked everything in Times Square. Yes I know what time it is. Just do it."

Where are you? Michael's fatigue was gone. All that was left was the cold unwavering focus of a professional. He would slink through the crowds undetected until he found the mutant.

His phone vibrated. He raised it and saw live feed from the satellite. A blinking red dot showed where the technopath was. Technopaths put out numerous waves on every frequency, so naturally it wasn't too hard for a satellite to locate a non-registered source of massively concentrated signals.

Michael smiled and started running straight in the direction of the mutant. There hadn't been a bracelet signal, so it was an unregistered mutant. His power kicked in, removing all the friction from his feet. The Division leader slid along the pavement like it was smooth ice, flying past civilians as he accelerated himself forward. 'Technopath, here I come!'

[Daedalus]

Being a technopath and not getting caught doing illegal things wasn't very difficult. Then again, most mental powers were quite difficult to pinpoint which made them the experts on stealth for the most part. Either way, the fact of the matter was that he was much smarter than your average bear...er...mutant. The blond would simply close up shop and walk off into the night, well, not really. He actually had a taste for a nice treat or something, particularly a tasty burger. Yum. Despite him knowing just how unhealthy it was, he sure did love him a good cheeseburger.

Closing up shop meant powering down his mind in a sense. After all, he was a sort of wireless router, one with a universal remote to any device imaginable. However, this also meant his signals could be backtraced if someone had an entire team of skilled experts along with some powerful hardware. Regardless, he had plenty of mental firewalls and connections that would reroute trackers in endless circles.

Even with that, his connections to most devices were branched off from others, creating decoys within decoys. And since he was leaving and wanted to be extra discrete, the decoys would activate with lingering signals from his previous broadcast. It would be difficult to filter out the decoy from the mutant himself. And even if such a thing could be done, he'd be long gone by the time anyone sifted through all that data.

He was indeed, untouchable. Invincible. A shadow in the night, never to be seen. For now, he'd relish in the moment, currently unaware that someone was wasting their time looking for him.