The assembly hall Cass slips into is much like every other Linear assembly hall she's worked. Its walls, floor, and ceiling are all covered with the same uninteresting white tiles, all coated with varying amounts of dirt, and here and there cracks fan out from the seams. Three large industrial fans, any of which is probably older than Cass is, are running near the top of the walls in the back and despite their age and rust, they're surprisingly quiet. On the far wall is what passes for a stage; it's just a raised section of flooring with a separate access in its back right corner, but it serves well enough for this type of gathering. A large paper sign, the only clean looking thing in the room, is spread across the ceiling above the stage. Ivan and the Jerhattan Smash Playing Live in Linear D! it proclaims in large, swirly lettering. One Day Only! Jerhattan's Best Underground Music!

Cass has her doubts about that last claim, but she seems to be in the minority. The room is an absolute crush of bodies. Every available square inch of space is packed with the band's fans, and the ceiling fans in the back are failing to keep up. The air is muggy, smoky and blisteringly hot. The scent of various illegal drugs and underwashed outfits makes her want to wrinkle her nose, but she firmly suppresses the instinct. She's here undercover, in standard-issue Linear clothes and a bad dye job looking like she's seen better days, for a reason. The same reason as last time, and the time before, and the time before, in fact. Crowd control. No surprise there; she's been on and off riot control for over two months now. She can practically predict her assignments word for word nowadays, and she hasn't a shred of precognition to speak of.

The city is just... what was it the boss called it? Uneasy. The city is uneasy. Jerhattan is already the largest, most crowded city in the eastern United States, and the unprecedented heat wave is only making things worse. All over Jerhattan, there's stories of bar fights, domestic disputes, even street brawls; it seems to get worse every day. So until the heat eases or a miracle occurrs, Cass and all the rest of the LEO will be working riot control, keeping tempers in check at gatherings like this one.

Cass slips through the crowd, careful to look as aimless as possible while making her way towards her goal. It's a skill she's perfected over her years in the LEO- keep moving, smile and nod, apologize to people as she goes. The precogs all said today's riot revolved around a teenager. She's read the precogs' reports four or five times; she's got a good description of the kid, and a fair idea of where to find him. But moving through the crush of bodies feels like wading through molasses, and she's slowed down further maintaining the pretense that she's headed nowhere in particular. She still hasn't reached her goal when the crowd surges forward, and she looks to see what the commotion is about.

The band's arrival turns out to be the culprit. The lead guitarist comes out first to ecstatic screams from the crowd, and gives them a cocky smile and a wave in response. (The crowd cheers louder. Cass internally rolls her eyes.) The band doesn't seem to be anything special, at least that Cass can see. Besides probably-Ivan, there's two men and one woman, all four clothed in matching outfits. They almost look like they're wearing Linear issue, if the Linear stuff was better made, tailored and properly dyed. She doesn't recognize the song they strike up, but the crowd is definitely into it. She does her best to take advantage of the distraction to keep moving; she's so close but the time frame from the precogs is fast catching up with her.

The kid finally shows up in her line of sight. Skinny as a beanpole with the same washed out hair and eyes as the rest of the crowd, but he's the right age and the right place and he's wearing the hat they told her to look for. She starts shoving hard, apologizing to some and glaring down a couple others, but she's still a few feet away when she sees it start. The kid's been bouncing on his toes, trying to catch a better glimpse of the stage, and she feels his emotions flare excitedly as the singers hit the refrain and he goes up, his feet leaving the floor and staying there hovering just for a second, two, three-

"Freak!" someone screams. "Talented freak!"

Cass reaches the kid just as others around them start to scream. "Down, kid, you have to get down now," she hisses. He looks at her, eyes wide and uncomprehending, but looks down in the direction of her pulling and sees what he's done. He starts swearing (she presumes) in Russian- and couldn't they have warned her the kid didn't speak Common, how do they expect her to explain anything- and drops to the floor in shock, concentration broken. Around them, the crowd is starting to converge on them, faces full of suspicion and fear. "Out!" she repeats, pointing at the door; he must understand her, but he refuses, pointing at his ticket and bursting into another spate of fervent Russian. He must be upset about leaving, after managing to get a ticket. Cass tamps down the urge to slap him out of it. The standing room tickets this far back were free, he's not even losing money, he can stand in line another time but he can't get un-murdered by a Talent-phobic mob. She gestures around them at the menacing faces. "OUT!"

Glancing around finally convinces him to follow her, but they only make it halfway before the crowd surges towards them. On stage, the band is screeching indignantly into their cheap mics, trying desperately to get the attention of the crowd back. The first man to approach them isn't expecting Cass to be strong, or trained, or competent; she ducks him neatly, redirecting him into the next man heading towards them, and keeps on going, shoving the kid along as she goes. That buys them a couple dozen yards before three people make a try at once. Cass grabs the boy by the shoulder and demands, "Help!" He looks back at her, clearly frightened. She points in front of them, then mimes pushing. Taps her head, mimes pushing again. (While intermittently throwing off bystanders. If she's never stuck signing through a language barrier while in the middle of a fight ever again, it will be too soon.) "Hard!"

While he gathers himself, she shakes herself off internally and reaches out with her mind. Calm she whispers to the crowd, calm calm calm calmcalmcalm. She keeps up the empathic projection as the boy trips their attackers neatly- he might not have training, but he's clearly been experimenting at home. Her empathy only goes so far, and the crowd's far too riled up to actually settle down entirely, but the unexpected sourceless calm is confusing enough to the people nearest them that she can shove the two of them the rest of the way out successfully. Then she just grabs the kid's arm and sprints.

The tunnel outside had been full of Linear residents when she arrived; now it's empty except for the LEO team that came to meet her. She hands off the kid with a grateful sigh. "Find someone who speaks Russian," she advises the officer nearest her, "not sure the kid speaks a word of Common, but he's a kinetic sure enough." She looks at the door and sighs. "And now I have to go back and calm down that mess."

---

Cass? Hey, Cass! You there? Cass groans as she recognizes the voice of the LEO commissioner. It feels like Boris' voice is pounding on her skull, and not gently. Growling, she flops on her stomach and pulls her pillow over her head, which has no effect whatsoever on Boris' mental knock. Even though he's not actually there, Cass rolls over in bed and turns on the light before responding to the mental intrusion. Boss man. Why do I suspect this isn't a "job well done, get some rest" conversation?

It's also a "job well done" conversation. He has the grace to sound slightly sheepish, at least.

Damn well better be. Took me three hours to get them calm again once I got the kid out. You know how many people tried to crack my head open?

I promise no head cracking this time, he says meekly.

...and? It's late and I'm tired, boss. Spill.

Some entitled jackass here pitching a fit because the LEO interrupted one of 'his' concerts.

...!?!

The commissioner is polite enough to let her finish swearing before he responds. She can feel the apology coloring the thought. I know it's late and you had a hell of a day, but-

I know, I know. You need an actual witness. Cass groans and runs her hands through her hair. It's a knotted mess; she'll have to tie it back before she can show up in the office. And get out of her nightclothes. Damnit, she was almost asleep. She was so close to getting some rest...

A polite mental cough from Boris let her know her thoughts were leaking. Serves you right, she thinks back crankily. You drag me out of bed, you deal with me leaking exhaustion everywhere. But she does quiet her thoughts. Her griping is just the principle of the thing. You don't pay me enough for this.

I don't pay any of us enough for this, myself included. You coming in or not?

You know damn well I'm coming in. And-

-your coffee will be waiting for you, yes.

Good man. Sometimes I almost like you.