New Mutants: Scribblenauts - Impasto

[x-wildchild.livejournal.com]

And then, things get weird. Not even Dadist weird.

Artie is somehow the voice of reason where dealing with bigots is concerned. It doesn't work, and things go south fast.



Ishmael's mural was nearing the finishing touches - it was clear now where he'd taken his inspiration from. But where the famous black-and-white picture had a group of everyday laborers, Ishmael's workers reflected the modern day - with a heavy emphasis on mutants. Tails, oddly shaped eyes and ears, and so on were all on display, and one of the workers stretched an impossibly long arm down to catch his coworker's falling lunch. It was full of vibrant colors and extremely attention-getting.

Artie had come around again, this time with a burger and fries and a couple of energy drinks. One for him, one for the poor bastard who thought that 24 hour painting sessions were a good plan. He handed the food over and stepped back, looking over it carefully before giving a broad thumbs up. You could see where Ishmael had worked at night - the colours had shifted under the flood lights and the last sections of the work were noticeably sloppier as his fatigue showed. But as a piece of performative painting, it worked.

A couple of men in their late thirties walking by on the street stopped and stared. "Look at that!"

"Whoa. Mutie art. That guy has a tail. Why would you even want... tails, man. Freaking tails." They stared a moment longer and one shrugged. "That guy's probably a mutant, too. Maybe he'll laser us or something."

The first man sniggered. "Nah. He's just a wannabe."

"Ay, chupas mi verrga, putano," Ishmael responded, thrusting his crotch aggressively at the passersby so there could be no doubt what the rasping angry Spanish meant. He was tired, he was hungry, and some blanquito assholes were mouthing off. He was so far past done with this crap.

Artie just flipped the guys the bird. The way the light reflected off car windows and blinded them so that they tripped on an uneven part of the pavement? That was coincidental. Totally. He sighed, turning his attention to Ishmael. "Ignore them," he said, as much as he could be bothered typing out right now. He wanted to say 'you pass and you're going around being a mutant in public with this art so what do you expect?' but he didn't bother. It was too slow to type on his phone.

Ishmael was all too aware of his 'passer privilege', as he'd heard it called. If that meant he was a bit more aggressive about who he was, so be it. Like the song said, he was born this way - he wasn't about to hide it from anyone. "That how you handle it?" he asked, equal parts sadness and anger in his eyes at the idea that anyone should be so inured to that type of abuse that the answer was just 'ignore it'.

Artie opened his mouth, something he rarely did in public, exposing his tongue and typed furiously into his phone for a moment. "Here, today, yes, that's how I handle it. They're dickbags but they're not worth my time. I have better things to deal with and I've tried to fight them too many times."

"I'm just so fuckin' tired of ignoring it," Ishmael said, his voice raising. "I'm tired of how we always gotta be the ones to just bend over and take it. We gotta respect their o-PIN-ions," he continued, his accent thickening with anger and exhaustion. "Y'know, because wanting me dead is an opinion that needs respecting!"

Artie didn't use his powers when he was at school. It made communicating slower and painful but it seemed best to keep that side of things separate from his studies. Right now, he regretted that decision. "Cry moar! I used to live in the sewers. Being a mutant is shit. Move on. Those two don't want you dead. They're nothing. Useless. You got bigger things to worry about." The voice on his synthesiser was utterly emotionless.

Ishmael scrubbed at his face. "Look, I ain't tryin' to play oppression bingo or anything, I just..."

Whatever he "just" went unsaid as a 40-ounce can of beer and a large soda came sailing in to splash all over Ishmael's mural, followed by the raucous laughing of the throwers. Ishmael growled low in his throat, his frustration spilling over into rage. Visibly straining, he pulled his arms like he were trying to heft an overly large bucket, and the chalk and pastels at the outskirts of the mural seethed and rose like a breaking wave to surge toward the vandals.

Oh shit. Artie pushed Ishmael's arms down, in the hope that this would stop his attempt at using his powers as he seemed to need the physical cue to use them and then, taking a risk, kicked his feet out from under him and knocked him down while flashing strobing lights at his eyes to break his concentration. Because going mutant at the bigots never ever ended badly.

Ishmael's face went blank, his eyes rolling back in his head. His arms and legs went rigid and thrust outward, breaking Artie's grip on them. After a few seconds, the rigidness in his limbs lessened, but only to begin twitching and convulsing rhythmically.

Artie lowered him to the ground, wondering if he should call an ambulance or let the guy ride out the seizure on his own. He'd like to have said carefully but Ishmael was so much taller and heavier that, really, the fact that his skull didn't crack against the pavement was an achievement.


Molly and Hope were just discussing haberdashery and historic art before the field trip curse struck. Hopefully Molly's awesome hat survives.



"Hey, look over there." Hope gestured towards a booth covered in colorful textiles and a lady with a hat on a mold before here, taking quick stitches on the material in contrasting colors, diverting her attentions from the murals nearby. "Would you like to take a look, Molly? They might have something you'd like?"

Molly hadn't been wearing hats for awhile since her birthday, but since she and Jubilee fought some demons (which wasn't her first time to fight demons either, crazy huh!) and she talked to Mr. Haller and some of the others she'd started to wear them again. She still didn't like the idea of waiting to be a superhero, but it was just waiting and not never ever again. So maybe she could wait. She just had to be patient. Like Batman. Batman was patient. He had to be to be on stakeouts.

"I don't have any money," she said, making a face, then brightened. "Maybe we could look and then come back later if I find something?"

"We can always look. And if you see something you really like, I have money with me." Hope looked over the offerings, zooming in on a dark bowler hat, decorated with a band of brightly colored embroidery. "How about this one, Molly? It's different from what you usually wear, but I think the colors fit you well."

"Hmm....I dunno..." Standing on her tip toes, Molly grabbed the hat, slipping off her pirate one she currently had on and placed the new one on her head. She grinned.

"What do y'think?"

"Hmm..." Hope tilted her head as she studied the effect. "I like it. It's different from what you'd normally wear, but something like this..." She lifted a gauzy fascinator from the table, embroidered with brightly colored, but delicate flowers. "... but this would not fit you at all."

Molly blinked, the bowler hat making her look somewhat like she didn't quite belong in that time period from the neck up, but the bright teal t-shirt with the cat on it that read 'Are you kitten me?' and the purple jeans with pink sneakers assured she really, really was.

"Why not?"

"Because it's far too dainty for a future superhero. Unless you want to go horse races or garden parties to save people from boredom?" Hope gently kidded, as she looked over the fascinator herself. She was secretly tempted though.

"Dude," Molly said. "Girls can be superheroes too, and we can look dainty or a tom boy or like a clown if we wanna." Putting the hat back, Molly plopped her pirate hat back on and puffed out her chest proudly. "Cause we're awesome." She tapped her chin. "I think I wanna get both."

"Of course we can be." Hope smiled as she shook her head. "And I think I might get one myself, maybe that one in dark green?" Delicate red and yellow flowers spidered around a lighter green vine.

"Yeah! It'd look good with your outfit," Molly said, nodding quickly. She stared at her two hats, checking the price tags. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip.

"I think I might need to put one back though. They're a little more than I thought they were. Even if I pay you back this is like....three weeks allowance."

"I can manage it, Molly. Even if you take a little longer to pay me back. But it's up to you." Hope grinned at her, handing over the navy fascinator to the lady behind the booth.
"If you have to go for one though, I'd really go for the bowler hat. I can see you wearing that far more often."

"Yeah, me too," Molly said. "Okay...just the bowler hat then." She decided she wanted to wear it right then. New hats were always fun.

After Hope paid for their hats they headed to other booths, looking around, until they came upon one of the murals that was being displayed as part of the festivities. Molly's eyes widened. It was like the one photo of the guys sitting eating lunch on a metal pole thing. But a lot of them looked like mutants.

"Wow, neat!"

Hope's eyes widened a little as she took in the huge mural. "That is one unique interpretation of a very well known picture." She pulled out her smartphone, lifting it up to her eye to see if she could get a decent shot without any people in the way. "I like it."

"Really?" Molly said, creeping as close as she could get without touching it. She knew you weren't supposed to touch art. "What's it supposed to look like normally?" She liked it too. It looked neat just the way it was.

Switching her smartphone over to a browser, Hope had to think for a moment on which search terms to use, but pulled it after a few moments of typing on her screen. "Look, Molly, this is the original picture. The idea that they were just sitting there without safety harnesses..."

Molly tilted her head, scrunching her nose. "Yep, I like the mural better," she said, folding her arms with a nod. "It's harmonious." She tip toed a little closer to check out the brush strokes. Since she liked art she wanted to see how the person made it just in case she wanted to do something similar some time.

Something started to hum, like someone singing, and Molly could've sworn she smelled ham. But there were no sandwich places near by. She glanced around, as the humming broke off and someone started to talk, but the words were muffled. Like she was hearing it from another room.

"Do you hear that?" Molly said. It sounded close. She inched a little closer, reaching out to press her ear against the wall, but the wall felt funny, not like brick. It didn't feel like anything, just air.

Molly only had a split second to pull her head back and stare at the wall in bewilderment before she felt a tugging, just as she was yanked through the wall.

"EEEK!"

"MOLLY!"" Hope tried to grab her hand, but she couldn't manage it. "Give her back!" She carefully eyed the mural again, but it seemed to have returned to a normal painting. Nevertheless, she kept her hands close, not touching the wall again.

Not seeing anything she could do here, Hope hurried away, intent on alerting... someone. As moved away, she glanced over her shoulder and stopped in her place. Two young men were touching the mural as well and suddenly they too were sucked in the mural... Turning to continue on her way, Hope's eyes widened completely...

They were not the only ones...

In front of her more people vanished in the other murals...