CBNC Studios, Fort Lee, New Jersey [Monday Fandom-Time]
Had things been different, Bobby would've been in Fandom, celebrating Halloween, or maybe even still in Bon Temps, enjoying an extra-long weekend with his girlfriend. But no. Bobby stood at the edge of the soundstage, just out of view of the camera, watching as Trish Tilby introduced tonight's very special guest.
"Good evening. Tonight I'm intorducing a man- Mr. Graydon Creed- who many of you are no doubt familiar with. He is a controversial presidential candidate to be sure, having made the centerpiece of his campaign the containment of the so-called 'mutant menace'. Some say his ideas amount to fear-mongering- often divisive, and spoken in inflammatory language. Others find his basic honesty and openness is refreshing in this age of political equivocation and backpeadaling. Now... Mr. Graydon Creed."
He had to give her credit, she hadn't so much as blinked when 'Drake Roberts' had introduced himself as Creed's representative when they'd first set up tonight's interview. And she was managing to keep her tone more or less neutral so far, despite the fact that Bobby knew just what she really thought of men like Creed.
"Best of luck to you, sir," Bobby said, clapping a hand on Creed's shoulder.
"Drake Roberts, you're the brightest volunteer on my staff. You've been a tremendous help to me."
"Thank you, sir," As he'd done so many times over the past few months, Bobby kept a lid on the anger that bubbled up every time Creed so much as spoke to him.
"Guess it's my time to educate the great unwashed," Creed smirked as the director motioned for him to step onstage.
"You're the master. Show'em how it's done!" Jerk, Bobby thought to himself as he watched him go. Turns my stomach being near you. But I'm keeping you under surveillance for the X-Men. You slip up- and Iceman will be there.
"Good evening, Mr. Creed. Quite a reception you've received here," Trish said drily.
"That's because my message is getting out there, Ms. Tilby," Creed replied, not missing a beat. "Elemental and undiluted! The public's been catching on to what we've been saying- despite the vicious attacks of the liberal media."
"You're referring, I assume, to newspaper headlines such as this?" She held up a copy of the Daily Bugle from a few days ago, the headline "HATE HATE HATE!" plastered all over the front page.
"Precisely. It's obvious J. Jonah Jameson and his Daily Bugle are attempting to sway public opinion with distortion and outright lies. And this from the man who's turned Spider-Man-bashing into a cottage industry."
"So then you'd argue with Jameson's characterization of you as a hate-monger?" Trish pressed. There was a reason the X-Men considered her an ally, and it had a lot to do with the fact that she was willing to go head-to-head with someone like Creed if it meant a chance to expose him to the public for the dangerous psychopath he was.
"I'd like to think of myself more as a champion for people who would otherwise not have the power to defend themselves," Creed said, but even his confident smile couldn't disguise the flash of rage in his eyes as Trish spoke. "My job, upon election, would be to negate the threat mutants- those genetic misfits- pose to normal American citizens."
"Who's next?" Came a shout from the audience as someone stood up. "You finish 'negating' mutants- then who do you start on? Anybody else that's different- anybody else you consider a problem- a threat?" Bobby's eyes widened in shock. He'd recognize that voice anywhere...
I can't believe it- that's dad! What's he doing here?
"While you're at it, why don't you get rid of the elderly, cut off welfare mothers, or stop medical treatment to the sick and dying? Those mutants you want to get rid of, they're somebody's sons or daughter's, someone's family! But that means nothing to you, so long as you win your precious election," William Drake's tirade didn't end when a pair of security guards grabbed his arms and began herding him towards the exit. His last words before they shoved him out the door were: "They're people, and you have to treat them like people!"
Who'da thunk it? Bobby wanted to go after him, to make sure that he would be okay, but doing so would mean blowing his cover, and he couldn't do that. Not yet. After giving me so much grief over my life as an X-Man, Pop goes and sticks up for mutants. Thanks, dad. Maybe, when this was all over, they could manage a conversation that didn't end in a screaming match. The thought gave him hope, hope that buoyed him through having to pretend he was just as annoyed as the rest of the campaign staff at that particular interruption. Turning his attention back to the stage, he went back to watching Trish tear Graydon Creed a new one on air.
[ooc: NFB for distance, natch. Dialogue taken from X-Men #58.]
"Good evening. Tonight I'm intorducing a man- Mr. Graydon Creed- who many of you are no doubt familiar with. He is a controversial presidential candidate to be sure, having made the centerpiece of his campaign the containment of the so-called 'mutant menace'. Some say his ideas amount to fear-mongering- often divisive, and spoken in inflammatory language. Others find his basic honesty and openness is refreshing in this age of political equivocation and backpeadaling. Now... Mr. Graydon Creed."
He had to give her credit, she hadn't so much as blinked when 'Drake Roberts' had introduced himself as Creed's representative when they'd first set up tonight's interview. And she was managing to keep her tone more or less neutral so far, despite the fact that Bobby knew just what she really thought of men like Creed.
"Best of luck to you, sir," Bobby said, clapping a hand on Creed's shoulder.
"Drake Roberts, you're the brightest volunteer on my staff. You've been a tremendous help to me."
"Thank you, sir," As he'd done so many times over the past few months, Bobby kept a lid on the anger that bubbled up every time Creed so much as spoke to him.
"Guess it's my time to educate the great unwashed," Creed smirked as the director motioned for him to step onstage.
"You're the master. Show'em how it's done!" Jerk, Bobby thought to himself as he watched him go. Turns my stomach being near you. But I'm keeping you under surveillance for the X-Men. You slip up- and Iceman will be there.
"Good evening, Mr. Creed. Quite a reception you've received here," Trish said drily.
"That's because my message is getting out there, Ms. Tilby," Creed replied, not missing a beat. "Elemental and undiluted! The public's been catching on to what we've been saying- despite the vicious attacks of the liberal media."
"You're referring, I assume, to newspaper headlines such as this?" She held up a copy of the Daily Bugle from a few days ago, the headline "HATE HATE HATE!" plastered all over the front page.
"Precisely. It's obvious J. Jonah Jameson and his Daily Bugle are attempting to sway public opinion with distortion and outright lies. And this from the man who's turned Spider-Man-bashing into a cottage industry."
"So then you'd argue with Jameson's characterization of you as a hate-monger?" Trish pressed. There was a reason the X-Men considered her an ally, and it had a lot to do with the fact that she was willing to go head-to-head with someone like Creed if it meant a chance to expose him to the public for the dangerous psychopath he was.
"I'd like to think of myself more as a champion for people who would otherwise not have the power to defend themselves," Creed said, but even his confident smile couldn't disguise the flash of rage in his eyes as Trish spoke. "My job, upon election, would be to negate the threat mutants- those genetic misfits- pose to normal American citizens."
"Who's next?" Came a shout from the audience as someone stood up. "You finish 'negating' mutants- then who do you start on? Anybody else that's different- anybody else you consider a problem- a threat?" Bobby's eyes widened in shock. He'd recognize that voice anywhere...
I can't believe it- that's dad! What's he doing here?
"While you're at it, why don't you get rid of the elderly, cut off welfare mothers, or stop medical treatment to the sick and dying? Those mutants you want to get rid of, they're somebody's sons or daughter's, someone's family! But that means nothing to you, so long as you win your precious election," William Drake's tirade didn't end when a pair of security guards grabbed his arms and began herding him towards the exit. His last words before they shoved him out the door were: "They're people, and you have to treat them like people!"
Who'da thunk it? Bobby wanted to go after him, to make sure that he would be okay, but doing so would mean blowing his cover, and he couldn't do that. Not yet. After giving me so much grief over my life as an X-Man, Pop goes and sticks up for mutants. Thanks, dad. Maybe, when this was all over, they could manage a conversation that didn't end in a screaming match. The thought gave him hope, hope that buoyed him through having to pretend he was just as annoyed as the rest of the campaign staff at that particular interruption. Turning his attention back to the stage, he went back to watching Trish tear Graydon Creed a new one on air.
[ooc: NFB for distance, natch. Dialogue taken from X-Men #58.]