Archive Mutants & Masterminds: Future Imperfect - Perspectives [Complete]

[Tim Wiley]

It had started as a simple walk. Tim enjoyed them, except on the hottest days where he was forced to spend most of his time either at home or at school. When he did walk, it was usually to admire the architecture. Sometimes it was people watching. Today was the latter, in a self-loathing sort of way.

His mom had failed him again the night before. She was supposed to come shopping for Thanksgiving dinner, but ended up making some excuse about her car breaking down. He had gone into a hair pulling rage of frustration because of her millionth betrayal. This morning, he woke feeling a bit sorry for himself, and hated his existence. When Tim felt like this, he would enter a brief period of masochistic curiousity. On his learning agenda today: 'Understanding the Gambler's Mind - 101'.

Beyond the glass doors leading to the interior of Caesar's Palace, was his subject of study: Thousands of people were tossing money around on various games of luck. He wondered if there were others in there like his mom; slaves to the thrill of chance. Tim paused, as he took a deep breath, and then headed through the doors into the cool, cacophonous interior that he affectionately referred to as Hell.

[Travis Kincaid]

The dice landed, with some small manipulation, on a hard four. The table erupted into gleeful cries and high fives as the dealers began to set out the winnings. Travis smiled broadly as he raked the large pile of large denomination chips toward him. The shooter, a man named Ted, looked more relived than anything, his winning throw had almost recovered his losses from earlier. Travis tried not to cheat too much and never when he was the shooter. It made it easier to feign innocence after all. He quickly put his new line bet down and turned to look out at the rest of the casino. Caesar's Palace was filled with thousands of men and women gambling, eating, drinking, or simply watching.

Travis often wondered how many were mutants. And of those how many were simply living under the radar versus how many would be using their gifts like he was, to gain a slight advantage in life. Telepathy, telekinesis, enhanced intelligence or dexterity. Any number of traits could allow a careful mutant to earn enough money to support himself, and a less careful mutant could land a cash win fall.

"Sonuvabitch! Gimme my wallet you freak!" Travis spun toward the yell and saw a pair of men tussling over a wallet overstuffed with green bills. The larger man was clearly a Texan based on his accent, boots, hat, and the gaudy belt buckle. The other appeared normal at first but Travis' keen eyes saw the way his fingers were longer and appeared to have small sucker cups on the inside. A Mutant. And a pickpocket.

Travis shook his head sadly, this would end poorly for the mutant he was certain. He abruptly decided to take down his bets. He was up for the day so far and suddenly didn't feel like pushing his luck, or manufacturing it. He collected his chips, and like a motorist who slows down to view a car accident, he maneuvered into position to see the fight unfold.

[Tim Wiley]

Look at this place! Tim was disgusted at the opulence and wealth on display. That Caesars was filled with laughing, drinking, smoking and gambling sacks of worthless humanity made bile rise in his throat. To Tim, each person represented another child left alone at home or abandoned at school, a vanishing college education, a flushed retirement pension. Everything on display reminded him of his mother's betrayals and the long nights where she left him at some dive to be watched over by some blurping, smelly drunk. People like his mom, like the ones here in Caesar's Palace, should never breed.

He wandered between the rows of slot machines and found himself on the gaming floor where blackjack, craps and roulette tables deprived people of even more money. At a nearby craps table, Tim heard loud cheers and saw excited gesticulations, as someone managed to actually beat the house. Tim smiled if it was a mutant that won, because the House set the rules and the house didn't like to lose. A mutant could cause a lot of damage to a casino. If he didn't despise the very idea of gambling, having internalized all his anger towards him mon and redirected it, he would clean a place like this out.

A scuffle broke out off to his left followed by a shout. "Sonuvabitch! Gimme my wallet you freak!" He didn't exactly see what happened, but it was probably a pickpocket. Most casinos knew who they were and door security was good at stopping them from entering. As he moved closer, he saw that it was not a normal pickpocket. The man's fingers were longer than normal and seemed to have some sort of bulbous tips on them. It was definitely a mutant. Tim immediately felt solidarity with and sadness towards the mutant. Security in casinos was unforgiving and often brutal. That it was a mutant, meant things would be worse.

Tim circled so he could witness the coming atrocity. Already, the scattered undercover security agents were moving to intercept and a crowd was growing. Some of the people smiled, others started shouting anti-mutant epithets, and still others looked genuinely concerned. Tim shared the last groups sentiments. This was not going to be pretty.

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis found himself conflicted. Should he help his fellow mutant? The man was breaking a law, but then what had Travis been doing mere moments before? He saw the heavyset casino plain clothes push through the crowd. They started to simply pry the pair of fighting men apart. For a moment Travis almost laughed, the two were engaged so stubbornly that it was comical to see the massive security men struggle to peel them apart.

Finally the two were apart, each claiming the wallet was his. A third security goon stepped forward and inspected the wallet while the two men where held in place by his comrades. "No ID in here. No license or even a credit card."

"I told ya its mine. I reckon y'all don't see expect me to believe you would think a mutie would have that kind of money do ya?" The Texan, no longer resisting stated his case, one without any solid evidence. To Travis' disgust the security mook gave the mutant a long look. His eyes returned to the wallet and then to the Texan.

"I've been gambling in here all day, I didn't keep my ID in my wallet because I was worried something like this would happen! It my wallet damnit, look inside, there's a tear on the lining."

Travis wondered if the mutant was telling the truth or if were clever enough to have torn the lining himself when they were struggling over the wallet.

"Listen y'all, I got my identification right here, like he said I didn't want to keep it with ma money."

"Liar! That's my wallet!"

[Tim Wiley]

Tim expected a bone-breaking takle by the guards who were large and brutish. It was typical of what he expected from a casino: smash first and ask questions later to those who misbehaved in the confines of their building. To Tim's surprise however, the impact never came and they expertly tore the two men apart, restraining them without excessive violence or force. It was something he hadn't expected from such a place.

He watched the scene unfold as the Texan and mutant began to scream their case to the casino's security guards. While neither had any solid proof, such as ID's, the mutant was able to identify a physical characteristic of it. It was then that he started to scruitinize both meen further: listening to the inflections in their voices, and watching for slight facial movements, all of which were signes of subterfuge and lying. It only took a few moments for him to discover the honest man.

He's probably not even a Texan. Tim had to admire the cunning behind it. First the pickpocket selects his mark based upon a negative public perception of them, then grabs their loot, and when caught, he playes the part of a victimized tourist and uses that anti-mutant sentiment against them. It was wrong on so many levels that he had to speak up. He began moving closer to the scrum, so that he might speak to the guards about the false Texan. As he did so, he caught snippets of conversations.

"Goddamn mutie should be in the Camp!" a grey-haired man in a golf shirt hissed to a woman next to him.

"To think that that 'thing' is actually claiming the wallet. Everyone knows that muties have no money other than what they can steal." She harumphed back to the man, her obvious wealth on display around her neck and arms.

Tim really wanted to do something to the two of them, but he had no power to do so. Like those in the past without power and the means to affect change, he had to bite his tongue. As he wormed his way closer, he heard a shout over his shoulder.

"I saw it grab the gentleman's wallet! He stuck his long fingers in the man's pocket and pulled it loose." It was the grey-haired man. A hole had opened so that he could move to the front and present his falsified claim based on preconceived beliefs and fear.

LIAR! Inside, Tim screamed at the man.

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis was circling the cluster fuck as he made his way for the exit. He didn't know what the case was but he also didn't care. He was registered as a class two, was free of the MIC and wanted to stay that way. Then another voice piped up, "I saw it grab the gentleman's wallet! He stuck his long fingers in the man's pocket and pulled it loose."

Travis shook his head, Well, he's done for now. Be lucky if he gets to stay out of the MIC now, innocent or guilty it won't matter now. Despite the cynical view Travis wished he could help somehow, but he couldn't see a way to do so without drawing attention to himself. More voices in the crowd agreed that clearly the mutant was using his mutation to pick pockets. Cries of "Mutie scum" and "Freak" began to get louder and more frequent.

Travis shoved his way to the front but not into the clear, "Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's a criminal. Mutants have the same rights as the rest of us. This is America not Communist China!" Oh hell, what am I doing?

[Tim Wiley]

The anti-mutant sentiments had gotten out of hand and the lynch mob was feverishly siding with the man bearing false witness. Tim wasn't about to stick his head out in defense of the mutant, as they might turn on him and out him as a mutant. But he couldn't tear himself away from the spactacle around him. The place was thick with emotions. It was like watching a train wreck in progress.

"Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's a criminal. Mutants have the same rights as the rest of us. This is America not Communist China!" Someone yelled in defense of the mutant. He couldn't see who said it, as the crowd surged forward, obscuring his view. While Tim thought it was a welcomed sentiment, he knew that it would make the mob even worse, even if it got the mutant released. Sure enough, the natives became more restless as several people hissed epithets near him and directed them at the foolishly brave man. They became more voiciferous, screaming "Fucking mutie-lover!" and "Stick him in the camp too!"

Tim realized that it would be prudent to seek a more distant location, as the place was about to explode. If it did, Tim might have to defend himself...and that was out of the question; he did not want them turning on him when it became a full-fledged riot.

[Travis Kincaid]

People turned on him as soon as he spoke out. "Hey! This is America dammit, we're not Nazis!" Fists flew towards him. Travis wasn't expecting that kind of response and while he was largely immune he still felt the impacts. Somebody knocked him to the ground. A kick lashed out and caught him in the gut. Fool idiot. Maybe next time you'll keep you damn mouth shut.

The blows stopped. Travis looked up to see even more security pulled people away from him. Things around him were getting out of hand. There was a great deal of yelling from both sides of the issue now. The scene was devolving into a small riot. Somebody pulled Travis to his feet. He looked over the heads of the crowd and saw a small army of men in suits pouring onto the casino floor. Combatants were pulled apart and escorted out. People were being helped to their feet, noses bloodied, lips split, Travis even saw a couple of shiners already darkening around the eyes of people there.

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks. No I don't need to see a paramedic I'm OK. Yes, I'm going to just cash out and leave. Thank you." Travis pushed through throng and eventually escaped to a quieter part of the casino. He changed his chips for cash and left silently cursing himself for being so stupid. As he exited the casino he saw a row of police cars. The mutant was being loaded into the back of one and various people, all showing signs of fighting, were being shoved into others. Travis shook his head and simply walked away.

[Tim Wiley]

By the time Tim had reached the outside of the mob, it had exploded into a melee. The man who spoke up in defense of the mutant was their first target. After that, people started fighting eachother because they had succumbed to the energy of the mob. Tim was glad to be on the outside of the place: he bled just like everyone else and he didn't feel like packing his nose with cotton.

Bunch of fucking savages! Tim shook his head in bewilderment and disgust, as he stood on the steps leading to the outside. He took one last glance at the angry mob on the gaming floor before leaving. He reminded himself not to enter these infernal places again.

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis started to walk back to his condo. A quick glance over his shoulder and a shake of the head were all he could spare for the chaos behind him. Unity and freedom. This country no longer believes in the tennents upon which it was founded. How long before it either tears itself apart or something happens that will drawn its people together once more? Travis could not answer that question, so instead he simply walked alone amongst the crowds in the Vegas heat back to his condo.