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"RUBBING ELBOWS"
1900 HOURS - 1900 L ST. NW, WASHINGTON, DC
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"Once again, I would like to thank you all for making the time to come to the PMPD Benefit Gala; now, more than ever, it is important to show the world the strength that metahumans demonstrate in their daily lives-- and, by extension, bring into the lives of others."
It was a no-brainer to have Harold Print take point for the PMPD Benefit Gala. Deputy Ross was a stone-faced wetworker who could hardly look disarming to save his life; Director Stone was equally as off-putting, at times, though for different reasons entirely. He had a habit of appearing as if he knew something others didn't, which was often the case in his line of work; he was one of the few who didn't like to play pretend, however, which made him a less optically attractive choice for occasions such as these. The only certain thing about him was the uncertainty.
Print, of course, had been managing optics for much of his life. He was the White House Press Secretary under Torres from 2025 to 2026, and served as Chief of Staff to the First Lady from 2026 to 2028 until his resignation in the wake of the Midwest Riots. He'd endured enough controversies from the Torres Administration in that time to make him bulletproof, and it'd been the obvious reason why he'd been chosen as a successor for the role of Communications Director within the MPAD. He was curt when he needed to be, but otherwise tactful-- and damn good at what he did.
"Your donations tonight will aid in the healthcare of thousands of PMPD-affected individuals across the country; like Joshua Gables, 17, from Pennsylvania." A clicker in the hand changed the projection behind him to that of a fair-skinned, dark-haired boy sitting on a bench-- some sort of professional photo taken for the occasion, most likely. "He's already able to lift his mother's car onto its rear axle-- and he wants to become a volunteer firefighter. Because of you-- all of you-- we have the capacity to anticipate, detect, and help individuals like Joshua. To help them use their abilities to aid society. A new generation of heroes."
Another slide click-- showing dozens of photos, now.
"A reminder that the Stone Foundation Silent Auction will be starting later tonight, at 8:30 PM, in side-room A3. There's some lovely pieces by Quickset, and a few decorative prototypes by Cannonade and Cyclic-- non-functional, of course. All proprietary." He smiled, at that, and got a few chuckles from the crowd.
"Now. Enjoy your evening, and the entertainment, ladies and gentlemen. And, of course, a thank you to all the Jurors who couldn't make it tonight-- because they're out on the streets right now, no doubt, saving lives. Unfortunately, if we got every hero here, it'd be mighty convenient for anyone looking to cause trouble." Another small wave of chuckles, and he raised his glass. "To MIRA-- to the PMPD Crisis Organization-- and, most importantly, to all of you."
The dining hall erupted into applause as Print stepped down from the podium and immediately went to handshakes and side-conversations-- a few photographers taking pictures of the ordeal as people went back to eating, conversation, and other beneficial opportunities to network. The restaurant had been entirely rented out for the evening, with a host of individuals making their appearance: top talent from MIRA, independent vigilantes that were relevant and stable enough to invite, media personalities from organizations within Hollywood, talent agency producers and representatives that'd paid a hefty price to optain passes... it was a stacked deck, to put it lightly, and the food wasn't half-bad. Mostly. Catering was always a mixed bag.
And, to top it all off, nobody'd tried to shoot the place up. Yet. It would seem a likely place for an attack, certainly, but--
-- who, in their right mind, would want to attack a party filled with parametas?