2016 News
THE DAILY BUGLE (and other sources) 2016 entries

New Years Eve Attacks!
Copy by Bea Arthur Written for Jan 1, 2016

Mutants and others fought back against the sentinel program up until several of the miscreants disappeared, lead by this man:

(Grainy close up on Remy)

A man now known to be a mutant and is thought to be a leader in these terrorist attacks. He's wanted by several organizations, including the FBI, SHIELD, and the NYPD as well as anyone affiliated with the sentinel program.

Any information you can turn in to this hot line (1-800-NO-MUTIE) will be greatly appreciated and will be rewarded.

Letter from the Editor
Copy by JJ Jameson Written for January 26, 2016

"I still have a dream, a dream deeply rooted in the American dream one day this nation will rise up and live up to its creed, 'We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal.' I have a dream…" - Martin Luther King Jr.

A powerful statement that reflects what most would say is a perk being American. This is the land of freedom. The land people came to for a new chance. Equal opportunity. Where anyone can do well if they work hard.

So why is it that the very people we elect into office to maintain the American ideal find various ways to spit on the American dream?

By now if you live in a heavily populated area you may have spotted these mechanical monstrosities clanking around to collect those of mutant status off of the streets. Some of you may have stood idley by watching it happen. Others of you may not have been aware of what is going on. So let this enlighten you.

Through politics as usual, several of our state level representatives snuck in a bill that made it to where these 'sentinels' can just collect up mutants and essentially evict them not just out of state but out of country. No crimes need to have been committed, they're just gone.

To interfere with these sentinels? That's officially a crime. To add to this, our elected representatives are working to sneak the bill in at the federal level.

And we're just hearing about this now.

There is a lot wrong with the situation as it lays out now, no matter your viewpoints on mutants. To start with, our state currently is acting as an authority over what counts as an American citizen. They didn't stop at the state level, they are currently going over the head of the federal government.

But before you give them 'heck yeahs' with your New York pride for putting one over the federal government (Who may soon follow suit unchecked) We are running the risk of repeating one of many ugly chapters of history. The Trail of Tears, Japanese Internment Camps, The treatment of Jews prior to the start of WWII.

We are allowing the future of our state, and our country to be jeopardized by the whims of a select seven hundred people who have opted not to even consider if the very people who elected them want their familes to be torn apart or if they are interested in us going down this slippery slope of terror.

The worst thing that can be done now. Is silence.

If they won't come to you on thier own to see what you want, It is up to you to go to them.

Below is a listing of the representatives that made this mockery of the legislative process happen as well as their contact information.

Let's make America Great again.

-JJ Jameson

{below is a list of all NY representatives that made the Sentinel program kick on in NY as well as the ones pushing for the bill on the federal level}

The Genosha Broadcast
Copy by Sam Written for Feb 2, 2016

The following footage is shown around the country on different news channels. Within hours, it is going viral on the net as well, with reactions ranging from jingoism to indignation and outrage.

The shot opens on a view of a primitive village surrounded by jungle. From nearby the camera, a voice provides the narrative on what looks like a handheld device, possibly even a phone camera.

"My name is Samuel Howard Morgan Stark. I disappeared three weeks ago after being arrested by the NYPD. While still in custody, I was kidnapped by a Sentinel."

The shot moves on through the rough huts, past ramshackle fires with self-made cooking pots bubbling away with something that cannot be easily identified. Figures start to appear from the huts, many emaciated and hollow eyed

"I was one of the first to arrive here. Where here is, nobody really knows, we were never told. We were dropped here without food, without tools, without medical supplies. More of us arrive every day, many become sick, some have already died."

As the camera moves on, it pans to take in a few crudely dug graves a short way away from the village, marked with simple wooden crosses. No names adorn these graves… Then the camera suddenly tilts up, eventuall focusing on a pair of contrails sailing overhead.

"We are watched by drones, unthinking machines that don't make a distinction between men, women or children. If we try to take to the air, they attack. If we try to leave the island, they attack. But if we stay, we will all die soon. Food is running out. Fuel is running out. Everyone is getting sick with tropical diseases we can't do anything about. Going out to find food means fighting the predators in the jungle. We have no weapons, no means of protection."

The camera turns around, finally taking in the face of a boy in his early teens, around 13, who has seen better days. "To anyone who can hear or see this… please help us. We are dying. All we want is to go home to our families… I don't know how long this connection will last, but I've tried to attach a list of everyone we knows is on the island. I just hope a few families can sleep better tonight, knowing where we've all ended up. I've tried to give everyone a few words for their families, and if we're really lucky, some of it will get through."

The voice cracks for a moment and then the boy closes his eyes, blinks away a few tears and looks into the camera with red-rimmed eyes.

"And dad, if you're seeing this… We're all still alive. I miss you."

The next thirty minutes is sequence shot of people passing on short messages to their families, until in mid-sentence the broadcast abruptly stops.

The Genosha Documentaries
Copy by Sam Written for Feb 7, 2016

Throughout the last few days, sporadic new videos show up from the mutant internment island. Every clip is seemingly made on the same device as the original, and the mutant known as Sam continues to narrate what is increasingly turning into nearly a wildlife documentary. From how they are coping with the increasing numbers of mutants, to hunting, cooking and even daily life on the island; all of it is covered as time goes on. The camera work is a bit shaky, and the narrative not nearly on par with the Attenboroughs of this world, but these documentaries paint a picture of a society hanging on to the very edge of survival.

By now it becomes possible to predict when the next Genosha Broadcast will arrive, so many people may be surprised when the next by now highly anticipated documentary is not only late, but fails to be broadcast altogether. Did the Sentinels detect the signal? Did something happen to Sam? Did the camera run out of power? Speculation is rife and the forums explode with a myriad of theories, some of them even plausible.

Two days pass with no message from Genosha, when the next clip drops onto the servers unannounced and entirely off schedule. When the shot opens, it doesn't show the jungle village of earlier clips, but a stretch of beach lit only by moon and stars, and a small camp fire not too far away from the camera itself which seems to be propped up at ground level and looking at a solitary figure illuminated by the light of both fire and firmament. Sam is sitting hunched over on a large backpack, his shirt torn and dirty, scratches along his chest and arms. By his feet lay metallic remnants, indistinct and hard to identify.

"Hey guys…" the boy begins, as a Lemur walks into the shot for a second, looks at the camera and then scampers off. "… I'm sure you were all waiting for the next video in the series about life here, but… stuff happened. You see, there was this girl I liked. She helped me a lot when I first got here, kept me alive, and y'know, she was pretty too. I liked her. A lot." The young mutant runs a thumb along the necklace of beads, shells and teeth that encircles his neck, clearly a gift from this mystery girl. He pauses and then looks back into the camera, eyes fluorescing a bright blue. "She died. Caught a fever from some of these god damned insects that are buzzing around and she died. We don't have doctors, don't have anyone that could have saved her without medical supplies which we don't fucking get… so she died for no fucking reason other than the crime of being a mutant. Away from her family, away from anyone she loved, frightened and knowing, knowing all the time, she was fucking well going to die." The string of expletives is punctuated by one or two surges of lightning from the boy's hand into the fire, which roars for a moment before settling down.

"I went a bit crazy." Sam admits, clenching his hand into a fist the moment he realises what he's been doing, and keeps working his knuckles throughout the rest of the video, finger nails drawing blood from his palm. "Sorry dad, but I built something I always promised I'd never do. I've been hunting Sentinel drones for the past twenty hours or so, and I've been salvaging parts. They're getting really interested in me now, so I had to get away from the village. This is my charge at the windmills, I won't drag them into it."

Sam stands up and picks up the camera, pointing it along the beach where partially disassembled shells of Sentinel drones can be seen dragged together, piled up haphazardly, before panning to take in the night's sky. "This is local midnight, and I'm looking at the stars facing North. Dad, if you can hear this, I'm hacking Comsat Six right now, and I've boosted the signal as far as it'll go without burning out the emitter. I'm using the Sentinel's own frequency bands to bounce the carrier off, the whole island should be lit up like a christmas tree from all the repeaters I've stashed away. For the next 48 hours, this place should be visible from space if you know where to look. And the stars tell me I'm somewhere South of the Equator and East of the Meridian. Doesn't narrow it down much guys, I'm sorry, but it's the best I've got. Comsat Six is the only one that comes close, so… I know you can pull this off dad. I'm counting on it, actually."

The camera is turned around, showing Sam again, looking both tired and defiant at the same time. "I'm busting out. Over the past few days, I got enough parts to build something that will get me off of this island. I'm going to fly due West from here the moment the sun rises, and I'll keep flying as long as I can. Maybe I'll find land, probably I'm gonna find a whole lot of ocean, but I don't care. By this time next week, I'm gonna be back in New York, and handing myself in to the NYPD. Or, more precisely, handing myself in to the custody of Officer Kilgrave, 4th Precinct, Manhattan, NYPD. And I want all mutants to know, from California to Maryland, that we have rights, that we deserve to be treated like everyone else, and that we are neither animals nor criminals. That's just this dream I have…"

"Peace out, world. This is Sam, signing off."

Sentinel Law Thrown Out
Copy by Bea Arthur Written for April 16, 2016
In a surprising turn of events, the Supreme Court decided with a slight majority that the actions of evicting mutants from US soil for solely for their genetics was considered unconstitutional. As such, the actions of the sentinels can no longer be protected by the US Government.
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