She wanted to say going to the carnival had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it really hadn't even when the idea had come up.

Morgan Duchesne honestly wasn't sure if this was work, or pleasure, or really what this was supposed to be. Miles, from her wine club, was a nice enough guy. A little bit of a stuffed shirt, sure, but good-looking and pleasant in that stuffed shirt sort of way. So when he had somehow worked up the courage to ask her out, her honest response had been "sure, why not"- which, Morgan knew, was truly something coming from her. He seemed like a fairly sweet guy. Besides, word around the wine club was that Miles' father had a case of 2068 Beaujolais stashed up in his 37th floor condominium- not to mention a fine collection of African art. If she cozied up to Miles, she might get an invitation up there and an opportunity to case the joint. 

But seriously, as monied as Miles was, this was his idea of a first date? Dragging her to some sweaty outdoors carnival, the air full of bugs and the sickly sugary smell of cotton candy. Morgan had expected maybe something on Fifth Avenue, not this kind of display.

"Isn't this nice?" she heard Miles' refined voice beside her, his arm looped properly through hers. "This little soiree is just delightful." Morgan forced herself to smile. She wasn't really having a very good time, and this hot sun was nipping at her fair skin. It was getting difficult to picture herself on a second date with Miles. She reminded herself of the 2068 Beaujolais. A few bottles for her own cellar, and she'd see if Yevgeny or Lo Wei or one of the other fences could get her a good price for the rest. 

Morgan ignored the screams at first. Probably just kids chasing each other around, enjoying themselves. Good for them, right? But it was becoming clear that something was deeply, deeply amiss here. "Oh, dear God," she heard Miles whimper, letting go of her arm.

Morgan looked over, one eyebrow arched quizzically. Her confusion was short-lived as she saw the Raiders rushing into Central Park, weapons at the ready and clearly meaning business. Their leader and a small honor guard dragged something onto the stage that Morgan had been pretty sure would only be occupied by a lame band, gave a little speech. She strained to catch it all. Something about poison.

If it had been only adults here, Morgan would have just left quietly. It would be so easy. Just activate her pheromones and be completely ignored as she strolled nonchalantly past the Raiders setting up a perimeter. Leave it all behind, count herself lucky for escaping.

But come on. There was kids here. They didn't deserve that. And who was going to help them? Miles? She looked over at her date with a sneer. The milquetoast was going pale and actually shaking at the knees. He wouldn't know what to do if he was served Sevruga caviar instead of Beluga. 

Like they say, nut up or shut up.

Morgan concentrated, breathed deeply. Through long practice, she had learned to turn her pheromone camouflage on at will, exactly as she was doing now. After a moment, she knew that no one could see or hear her, that the people around simply did not realize she existed. Unless she were to do something obvious to them like grab them by the arm, she was essentially invisible. 

Even as Morgan started for the stage, unseen and unnoticed, she saw others making shows of resistance. A young woman stepped out of the crowd and hurled knives at the apparent leader. Shortly afterwards, the lights shattered, and bullets begin to tear through Raiders all over the park. Clearly she wasn't the only one thinking of putting up a fight. So much the better. While the Raiders were busy violently murdering these idiots, she could just walk up onto the stage unchallenged and figure out a way to disarm this device. She wished she had her gear with her, she'd feel a little better if she was wearing her gas mask. As it was, though, she had nothing more than a pair of designer sunglasses to obscure her face. Oh well. It wasn't as if anyone could see her. Right now the biggest danger she faced was probably stray bullets. 

And so, she walked calmly and invisibly through the panicking crowd, climbing up on the stage. She knew this was dumb. So, so very dumb. But Morgan did it anyways.

Walking directly in front of a gaping Raider, she crossed to the tank, presumably full of gas, and began to study the terminal mounted into it. She had some familiarity with systems like this, particularly from burglar alarms. Maybe if she looked over it for a moment she might be able to work out some way of disarming the damn thing.