On several of the flyers, a quote is appearing, scrawled in thick purple marker.
"First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out, because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me."
-- Pastor Martin Niemöller
Written just below the quote are the words, PROPAGANDA IS NOT FACT. VIOLENCE IS NOT A SOLUTION. SCAPEGOATS ARE NOT A CONVENIENT SUBSTITUTE FOR ACTUAL VIOLENT CRIMINALS.
YOU KNOW THIS.
SPEAK OUT!!!
Schrödinger's faith in humanity is nonexistent on the best of days, but he's hoping that maybe he'll get through to someone, or at least make someone question this for the blatant propaganda it is. As for what happens to him... Well. He's never been afraid of death.
He just goes from flyer to flyer with supreme nonchalance, getting the message out as best he can.
On his way out of the Conrad, Ivan saw one of the flyers and tore it down in annoyance. A few blocks later, he was one and almost tore it down, but noticed the purple writing. He had to quirk a smile in recognition of the quote.
And here, a few blocks after that, he comes across a young man scribbling all over the poster with a purple marker.
Well, then.
He walks up, cane deceptively soft on the pavement.
"In Russia, not long ago," he says toward Schro's shoulder, "you would be now in a very bad place for what you are doing." His voice isn't threatening in the least, though. Vaguely amused, perfectly friendly.
"Yeah, and here, I could just be beaten to death with a blunt object at any time. Great city. Why would anyone ever think of leaving?"
There's a slight growl in Schro's voice, but it's not actually directed at Ivan. Schro's just kind of pissed off that the city keeps shitting on people he likes.
He glances back at Ivan, giving him a nice view of his makeup -- slightly smeared because he was in a bad fucking mood before he found a suitable marker to do a bit of counter-propaganda, but if he's going to get shit for it, he might as well get it over with.
"Now, it's not likely that you're in the 'beating me to death' camp, but in case you are..." He finishes the sentence he's writing. "Might be good to get it over with. I'm not the most patient creature in the world."
A corner of his mouth quirks up in what might almost be a smile.
Hm. The boy wears makeup. That slots him into a category of people who shouldn't expect Ivan to be writing them friendly notes over the journals, but not one that'll get Ivan to beat him to death on the spot. One thing one learns, as an archangel, is that someone will always find a way to seem inappropriate, and in ten, perhaps fifteen years no one will find it strange. Hair styles, clothing, things which would have led someone to be burned at the stake when he was a child are considered prudish now.
So he does what he usually does, and ignores it.
"When I want someone perished, I will generally shoot them," he says. "A stab through the heart, if guns are not available."
It's Dev's turn to have some fun with the CLF. So after stopping into a local convenience store and buying an 8-pack of Magic Markers, he has been going around doodling on every flier he comes across, humming to himself all the while.
The doodles vary from purple and green stick-figure monsters nomming on the picture of the tattooed boy to little flying saucers circling the word "alien" to speech bubbles above the pictures of sick people, most saying "LOL PLAGUE" or "OOPS, DED" or "BRAAAAINZZZ!!"
Dev is not known for his tact.
However, along with the variety of doodles, there is a repeating phrase that Dev is very careful to make as multi-colored as possible. The phrase is "Front, come and play!" followed by several smiley faces.
Dev is having more fun with this than is strictly necessary.
There's an amused snort from behind him. She's smoking again, and huffs a ring around a zombie. "Goddamn. Nice work. Too bad it won't have an appreciative audience."
Dev turns to meet her, thinking at first that she might be CLF. He tilts his head and decides she isn't. Not with blue hair.
He beams. "Ah, well, an audience of one is better than an audience of none, yes?" He bows. "And I'm sure the CCCCCCCCCChicago Liberation Front will quite appreciate it." He blinks and cracks his neck, reeling a little from Ace's mental kick. Dev can only get away with using acronyms when Ace is asleep.
Comments 15
"First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out, because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me."
-- Pastor Martin Niemöller
Written just below the quote are the words, PROPAGANDA IS NOT FACT. VIOLENCE IS NOT A SOLUTION. SCAPEGOATS ARE NOT A CONVENIENT SUBSTITUTE FOR ACTUAL VIOLENT CRIMINALS.
YOU KNOW THIS.
SPEAK OUT!!!
Schrödinger's faith in humanity is nonexistent on the best of days, but he's hoping that maybe he'll get through to someone, or at least make someone question this for the blatant propaganda it is. As for what happens to him... Well. He's never been afraid of death.
He just goes from flyer to flyer with supreme nonchalance, getting the message out as best he can.
Reply
And here, a few blocks after that, he comes across a young man scribbling all over the poster with a purple marker.
Well, then.
He walks up, cane deceptively soft on the pavement.
"In Russia, not long ago," he says toward Schro's shoulder, "you would be now in a very bad place for what you are doing." His voice isn't threatening in the least, though. Vaguely amused, perfectly friendly.
Reply
There's a slight growl in Schro's voice, but it's not actually directed at Ivan. Schro's just kind of pissed off that the city keeps shitting on people he likes.
He glances back at Ivan, giving him a nice view of his makeup -- slightly smeared because he was in a bad fucking mood before he found a suitable marker to do a bit of counter-propaganda, but if he's going to get shit for it, he might as well get it over with.
"Now, it's not likely that you're in the 'beating me to death' camp, but in case you are..." He finishes the sentence he's writing. "Might be good to get it over with. I'm not the most patient creature in the world."
A corner of his mouth quirks up in what might almost be a smile.
Reply
So he does what he usually does, and ignores it.
"When I want someone perished, I will generally shoot them," he says. "A stab through the heart, if guns are not available."
Reply
The doodles vary from purple and green stick-figure monsters nomming on the picture of the tattooed boy to little flying saucers circling the word "alien" to speech bubbles above the pictures of sick people, most saying "LOL PLAGUE" or "OOPS, DED" or "BRAAAAINZZZ!!"
Dev is not known for his tact.
However, along with the variety of doodles, there is a repeating phrase that Dev is very careful to make as multi-colored as possible. The phrase is "Front, come and play!" followed by several smiley faces.
Dev is having more fun with this than is strictly necessary.
Reply
Reply
He beams. "Ah, well, an audience of one is better than an audience of none, yes?" He bows. "And I'm sure the CCCCCCCCCChicago Liberation Front will quite appreciate it." He blinks and cracks his neck, reeling a little from Ace's mental kick. Dev can only get away with using acronyms when Ace is asleep.
Reply
She steps past him and puts her cigarette out on a plague victim's face. Yeah, she has just that much sensitivity when it comes to this sort of thing.
Reply
She could care less what it says. She's just excited because she killed and it felt good and C L F. Who cares about them?
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