Victor just chuckled at Mary's "nailed it" pose. That chick was something, but a great giver of speeches wasn't it. He had been almost worried he'd be outshone, after all she had charisma, but it fell a little flat for the Jazz man. With graceful, confident strides he burst onto stage, and stood behind the podium. For a moment he just watched the crowd with a sly smile as applause started.
"A'ight, a'ight, a'ight!" He bellowed into the mic, voice as smooth as butter, and both hands up to silence the crowd. "Settle down people, settle down. Much as I love the adoration, I'm gettin' paid to say a few words. So let a man speak, you hear?" He made sure to chuckle, to seen all fun, and games. Some of the crowd followed the lead.
He postured for a moment, letting a brief silence wash over the crowd. When he finally spoke it was in a solemn tone. "First off I have to say, the fine madam Mary Phnix was right, a few years ago people would've thought this impossible. A few months ago they would've. Last week they probably did." A sigh escaped him, and he averted his eyes to the podium. "I have to admit, I'm one of them, and before you boo me let me explain."
He looked back up at the crowd, fire in his eyes.
"I was born here. In The Nillies. I was raised here, I lived here almost my whole life. I felt it, the piss, the shit, the cops stepping on necks just because the crooks hadn't hit you up first. Nothin' worked for nobody unless you were hurting people. I felt it, I lived it, but I also felt something else..Something better." He nodded, his smile returning. "I felt the soul of a city. The souls of all the people stuck under someone's bullshit, enduring being called trash, enduring the reputation Van Leugen had acquired because of the few. The corrupt."
The people responded in cheer, and again he silenced them.
"I thought something like this would never happen, even last week, because while the few are few, they're powerful. Too powerful. I should know. A few days ago, the night of a performance I had booked at the Nashtons, somebody tried to take my life. Broad daylight, on the street. Wasn't no thug, either. Fancy suit, fancy gun." He paused to let the gasps of the gathering echo. "Somebody, somewhere, doesn't want us to do this. Doesn't want us to celebrate who we are, what we are! They don't want us to feel pride!"
Victor paused, locking eyes with anyone in the front row of the crowd.
"Well, I say FUCK 'EM!" he roared, the crowd repeating it with gusto. "Let's get this festival goin'!" With that a near by Alt-Rock band flipped the switch on some amps, and went into full swing.
Osiris chirped up as Andy began to book it, the AI's soothing voice calm, if not metallic, as ever. "The designer drug designated 'Slowmo' is rather new on the market. It's a very complex chemical compound. It seems to be a sort of reversal of Heroin. Time seems to slow for the user because the body, and mind are sent into overdrive." It paused, adjusting the volume on the doc's phone to be heard better over the crowd.
Narcan wouldn't work, and Adrenaline will most likely kill the victim. Administering a dose of Heroin, ironically enough, may stabilize the patient, in a sense. Similar to an 'Eight Ball'. Or...It may kill them."
JP was quite thankful for Mike's reaction, and patted the man on the cheek. "You pretty alright, compared to a Bulldog." He then glanced around, an audible huh sound escaping his lips. "I gotta admit I'm curious as fuck. Where's the Money Gang at? Gotta ask them about that name.."