Scott and someone unexpected, Tuesday
Jul. 11th, 2006 10:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsScott is using his powers to help clear the road when someone else happens to drive by.
Clearing roads was one of the few things his power was actually good for, and it was something Scott was finding himself doing a lot of this week. Some of the emergency crews had been a little wary at first, but they were also very good at passing information back and forth, and increasingly Scott was finding himself welcomed with relief, rather than wariness.
He walked out in front of the remains of the pedestrian overpass. "Everyone keep clear!" he called, and let off three short, efficient optic blasts to clear the way for the convoy of fire vehicles waiting to get through. One of the drivers waved at him as he drove the high-rise unit through, and Scott lifted a hand in response.
At the rear of the convoy, where his motorcade was following along en route to their next scheduled photo stop, President McKenna caught sight of the black-clad figure at the side of the road and carefully hid a smile. For all the good the X-Men did, it occasionally galled him that their arrangement had to be kept so unofficial, no matter how good the reasons were. He leaned forward to tap his driver on the shoulder. "Why don't you pull over here, soldier?" Leaning back, he caught his assistant's eye. "Jason, let the press corps know they'll be getting their photo op with one of the mutant volunteers rather earlier than we thought. I like the look of this one."
Running a hand through his sweat-damp hair and breathing a little heavily - he was wearing down, sunlight or no sunlight, and probably needed to catch a break soon - Scott half-turned back towards the convoy, intending to cross the street and check with the head of the city crew as to where he was needed next.
Then he realized that the last few vehicles in the convoy were not emergency vehicles, and three were armored SUVS... oh, no way. For a minute, he very strongly considered just turning around and melting back into the crowd. This was probably not the optimal...
But the middle SUV was pulling over.
Flanked by his security detail, the President stepped out of his vehicle, waving graciously to the assembled crowd. He strode purposefully over to Scott as the press began to set up their cameras, and gave the X-Man a smoothly benevolent smile tempered by the merest hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "That's good work you've done here, young man," he said, voice pitched to carry. "I'm told some of the worst of the damage is through here, and without your help the emergency services would have had to detour for several miles to get where they're needed most."
It was a sign of just how frazzled Scott was that he seriously considered fleeing for just an instant. Then it dawned on him that running away from the press was not a good way to remain unnoticed either. And he'd long-since shed his jacket with the tell-tale Xs - it was too warm out here to be in full leathers. And it wasn't like he was wearing a distinctive piece of facial hardware anymore. But still!
"Umm... thank you," he muttered, ducking his head a bit. "Sir," he added, remembering who he was talking to. "We're, uh, doing our best."
"So I see." McKenna shook his head gravely. "It sometimes seems as if great tragedy is the only thing that can bring us all together as a nation, past all the lines that divide us, and that we forget too quickly once those tragedies have passed. Still--" He smiled wryly. "A wise man once told me that we are given moments such as this, moments in which we can repeat the mistakes of the past, or work together for a better future. Perhaps one day we will remember them." He extended his hand to Scott, as cameras flashed. "You--and all of the volunteers here, everyone who has come to help rebuild the city of San Diego--have the thanks of a grateful nation. Keep up the good work."
Deliberate echoes of someone else's words, in the Oval Office years ago, and it would of course go over the heads of everyone else listening. Scott bit his lip, but then reached out and shook the President's hand, mustering a very tiny, strained smile which those watching would probably write off to nerves. He hoped.
"... thank you, sir."
The President smiled again, with that faintly knowing look in his eye, and before Scott was required to muster up any more of a response than that, was moving smoothly along to greet the city emergency crew. Scott turned away from the camera flashes, his heart hammering at a truly ridiculous rate as he melted back into the crowd, moving against the tide as people edged eagerly forward to get a glimpse of McKenna.
Maybe that particular image would be lost amid the likely dozens of others like it from the President's visit to the disaster zone. Maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, the message had been heard and received, and Scott finally smiled again - to himself this time, and more naturally. He reached into his pocket for his com. "~Folks,~" he subvocalized quietly. "~You'll never guess who just made a point of stopping to say hello.~"
Clearing roads was one of the few things his power was actually good for, and it was something Scott was finding himself doing a lot of this week. Some of the emergency crews had been a little wary at first, but they were also very good at passing information back and forth, and increasingly Scott was finding himself welcomed with relief, rather than wariness.
He walked out in front of the remains of the pedestrian overpass. "Everyone keep clear!" he called, and let off three short, efficient optic blasts to clear the way for the convoy of fire vehicles waiting to get through. One of the drivers waved at him as he drove the high-rise unit through, and Scott lifted a hand in response.
At the rear of the convoy, where his motorcade was following along en route to their next scheduled photo stop, President McKenna caught sight of the black-clad figure at the side of the road and carefully hid a smile. For all the good the X-Men did, it occasionally galled him that their arrangement had to be kept so unofficial, no matter how good the reasons were. He leaned forward to tap his driver on the shoulder. "Why don't you pull over here, soldier?" Leaning back, he caught his assistant's eye. "Jason, let the press corps know they'll be getting their photo op with one of the mutant volunteers rather earlier than we thought. I like the look of this one."
Running a hand through his sweat-damp hair and breathing a little heavily - he was wearing down, sunlight or no sunlight, and probably needed to catch a break soon - Scott half-turned back towards the convoy, intending to cross the street and check with the head of the city crew as to where he was needed next.
Then he realized that the last few vehicles in the convoy were not emergency vehicles, and three were armored SUVS... oh, no way. For a minute, he very strongly considered just turning around and melting back into the crowd. This was probably not the optimal...
But the middle SUV was pulling over.
Flanked by his security detail, the President stepped out of his vehicle, waving graciously to the assembled crowd. He strode purposefully over to Scott as the press began to set up their cameras, and gave the X-Man a smoothly benevolent smile tempered by the merest hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "That's good work you've done here, young man," he said, voice pitched to carry. "I'm told some of the worst of the damage is through here, and without your help the emergency services would have had to detour for several miles to get where they're needed most."
It was a sign of just how frazzled Scott was that he seriously considered fleeing for just an instant. Then it dawned on him that running away from the press was not a good way to remain unnoticed either. And he'd long-since shed his jacket with the tell-tale Xs - it was too warm out here to be in full leathers. And it wasn't like he was wearing a distinctive piece of facial hardware anymore. But still!
"Umm... thank you," he muttered, ducking his head a bit. "Sir," he added, remembering who he was talking to. "We're, uh, doing our best."
"So I see." McKenna shook his head gravely. "It sometimes seems as if great tragedy is the only thing that can bring us all together as a nation, past all the lines that divide us, and that we forget too quickly once those tragedies have passed. Still--" He smiled wryly. "A wise man once told me that we are given moments such as this, moments in which we can repeat the mistakes of the past, or work together for a better future. Perhaps one day we will remember them." He extended his hand to Scott, as cameras flashed. "You--and all of the volunteers here, everyone who has come to help rebuild the city of San Diego--have the thanks of a grateful nation. Keep up the good work."
Deliberate echoes of someone else's words, in the Oval Office years ago, and it would of course go over the heads of everyone else listening. Scott bit his lip, but then reached out and shook the President's hand, mustering a very tiny, strained smile which those watching would probably write off to nerves. He hoped.
"... thank you, sir."
The President smiled again, with that faintly knowing look in his eye, and before Scott was required to muster up any more of a response than that, was moving smoothly along to greet the city emergency crew. Scott turned away from the camera flashes, his heart hammering at a truly ridiculous rate as he melted back into the crowd, moving against the tide as people edged eagerly forward to get a glimpse of McKenna.
Maybe that particular image would be lost amid the likely dozens of others like it from the President's visit to the disaster zone. Maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, the message had been heard and received, and Scott finally smiled again - to himself this time, and more naturally. He reached into his pocket for his com. "~Folks,~" he subvocalized quietly. "~You'll never guess who just made a point of stopping to say hello.~"
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