Dr Archeville

15th April 2011 “Goodness me!” Supercape had never seen anything quite like it. And he had seen a lot. The cosmos was stuffed full of the most extraordinary anomalies, fluctuations, and oddities, and he spent a lot of his time examining them. As he flew high above Freedom City, keen to clear his head after a taxing day at the Lab wrestling with the particle smasher, he had run into what he could only describe as a rip in the universe. A jagged, pulsating, and flapping rip. It was perhaps 20 metres wide, and a few metres broad, although he had the unnerving sensation of it possessing more than three dimensions. A lot more. Clearly, it deserved closer examination. As he floated towards it, his plethora of superhuman senses all singing praise to the strangeness of the anomaly, the rip wobbled slightly. Perhaps if he had not been so engrossed in the study of the rip, he could have avoided it. It swelled, twisted, and ate Supercape up whole. Supercape had only a dim recollection of this. He drifted back into consciousness with the air whistling over his head. Looking around, he saw the rapidly expanding landscape. He was falling. With a burst of adrenaline, he shook off the cobwebs and regained his faculties. Even so, it was a close thing, and he only managed to stop his fall a few metres from the ground. And what a ground it was. Endless desert and cracked rock as far as his eyes could see. The sun was large, angry, and red. A dusty wind blew around him. The only signs of life where some lichen and other, undefinable plant life that clung to the rocks. Where am I? The unrelenting landscape gave no hint. With a moments concentration, the space around him wobbled, and he disappeared. To reappear floating in orbit over the planet. He vaguely recognised it. Earth, but not as he knew it. The continents had all flowed into one mega continent. The moon still rotated around his home planet. The sun was wrong, and the stars had moved too. Hold on…this rings a bell... Oh dear. He couldn’t place the exact time, but this was how Earth would be in a couple of billion years, when the Sun changed and the continents had clashed. A couple…of…billion…years... Everything had gone. Whilst it was extremely interesting, he felt a gnawing coldness in his gut, not just from the loss, but from the realisation that he was trapped. He spent the next two days searching the planet, looking for the rip in time, but to no avail. It had gone. Sitting on a mountain peak higher than the Everest of his time, and observing the unfamiliar wreck of Earth, he held his head in his hands, silent in despair. “Chin up!” came a familiar voice. Supercape turned around to look straight at himself. Well, not quite himself. The hair was flecked with grey, and the forehead lined, but it was, without question, himself. Maybe how he would be in 10 years time. “Easy way out of this!” said his older self, with a broad green. “Won’t let you into it right now, got to figure that out yourself” he continued, tapping his nose, “all that quantum entanglement stuff, works in more dimensions than three… pretty sure you know that by now, although I didn’t know how to use it…” The younger Supercape stood watching his future self, mouth aghast. “…but suffice to say, you cracked it!” the older man said. “So, here I am, come to rescue you so that you get a chance to crack it. And when you do, don’t forget to come here and rescue yourself like I am doing… have to preserve quantum causality and all that, or heaven knows what would happen…” The older man lay a hand on the younger, and with a flash, and a smoothness that put the younger man’s teleportation to shame, they reappeared over Freedom City, where the rip had been. The future Supercape examined his extravagant and high tech watch. “Not bad… a few seconds out…” he muttered before giving his younger self a friendly wave. “Good luck out there” he said “not that you need it, after all, I made it! Although those Spider-zombies were a close one…errr… forget I said that!” And with another flash, the younger Supercape was all alone, quite flabbergasted. Temporal Entanglement eh? He thought to himself, the next day, as he started reprogramming the particle smasher in the lab. Very interesting…

Somewhere in Germany, October 17th, 1944 The muffled sound of an explosion shook loose dust from the ceiling as John laid on the floor, his upper body propped up against the shot up remnants of a console. He laughed to himself as he tried to get to his feet by using the console as a crutch, but didn't get very far. The exertion caused him to let loose a ragged cough, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Heh. Never thought I’d be bleeding out in 1944 wearing a SS Major's uniform in the middle of a secret Thule Society base. He slumped against the console, the energy ebbing from his body. The sparks and smoke from the damaged consoles intermingled with the dust from the ceiling as more distant explosions rumbled in the background as John thought back how he got into this whole snafu. It had all started a week ago. He was in his room at Claremont, reading an introductory book to understanding Russian given to him by Miss Victoria, when the portal had opened behind him. John remembered the feeling of falling backwards through the portal, but little else of the trip through the portal and the landing other than the fact that he was knocked out when the back of his head met a hard surface on presumably the other side of the portal. He marveled silently at the coincidence of it all many times over the last week. Waking up in 1944 in the middle of a Nazi Stronghold, with them convinced he was Wilhelm Kantor, who hadn't been heard from since he left on an 'expedition' three days before. Radio contact had been lost, and they had sent search parties but found noting. Now he was here by some twisted whim of fate, just in time to 'oversee' final stages of the project. It had been all to easy to get information. All the people here either admired or feared his genetic precursor, so they gave him anything he asked for. Finding out what they were doing at this facility and there layout thereof was trivial. The identity and scope of the project was rather horrendous. They were experimenting on enchanting V2 rockets and modifying their payloads into a bio-weapon capable of reanimating necrotized tissue. Projections estimated total zombification of the British Isles inside of 3 months once these were in full scale production. The sorcerers assured him that the zombies would be under control due to the spell ritual, and once the kinks in the system were worked out they could use them as an nigh unstoppable shock force against the Americans or the Russians. John looked around the wrecked command room. It had overlooked the indoor launch site, itself now a mass of burning wreckage and destruction. Bodies lay sprawled about, and a calm voice over the intercom announcing that the perimeter had been breached, and intruders were in the base. John smiled at that. Some intruders. He had just had his duplicates arm the base's scuttling charges and set the timers for just before the launch. It insured the maximum amount of people inside the base. The charges were meant for the event of a true attack, but re-purposing had a been a bit of irony that John thought was poetic. The rest was supposed to have been easy. Liberating StG 44's from the armory and mowing down the unsuspecting control room technicians and sorcerers before they completed their ritual. He hadn’t expected the Thule Society sending a pair of Elite Guards and a fire team of Sturmkommados. In the end, it had wound up with all of his duplicates dead and him lying here bleeding with two bullets in his abdomen from the running gunfight inside the base. One of the numerous small fires caused by the explosions must have reached the rocket fuel as the V-2 rockets started detonating outside, the force of the explosion blowing out the glass in the room as the launch area started to crumble. Well, this is it. John thought, as the next timed charge was directly underneath the control room. Well, It was good while it lasted...he mused as the blood loss caused him to waver in and out of consciousness. A sudden sense of vertigo ripped at him and pulled him sprawling to the floor. He cracked open an eye. Huh. No explosions, no overpowering smell of cordite and blood. The room was unmistakeably familiar. It was his room back in Claremont. John tried to move, grimacing at the pain and the ever-spreading crimson stain on the uniform as he noted dryly that he was still however shot. There was a knock on the door frame, and Morgan poked his head in. John looked up at him in clear relief. “Ah, Mr. Morgan. I'd greatly appreciate a medic right about now." The last thing John heard as he succumbed to blissful unconsciousness was a muttered "...cac.”

The portal took Edge by surprise: one minute he was on the streets of Ashton communicating with Psyche and Phalanx as they tried to corral what he later learned was a rogue megalonychid, the next minute Mark was on the streets of a deserted, battered version of his home neighborhood. To his credit, it took him only seconds to realize what had happened. _I must have traveled in time...but where am I?!?" The neighborhood looked mostly abandoned, quiet suburban houses standing vacant, lawns half-dead, distant screams and explosions filling his ears. With his commlink dead, Mark turned and looked towards Freedom City proper, and realized exactly when and where he was! The smoke rising from the burning crater of City Center, the sky overhead red with more than just ash and fire...this was the Terminus Invasion! He was in Freedom City itself in an instant, barely remembering to shift his costume's colors to black and grey again so that nothing untoward would show up in history books. He appeared before Freedom Hall itself, his natural instinct taking him to where his history books told him the great fight, the last fight, had taken place. Within an instant of his arrival, he realized he'd gotten there too late. There in the middle of the street lay the body of the Centurion, his gold and blue costume torn, the pieces of Omega's armor still in his hands where he'd ripped them away with that one last blow. Captain Thunder and Lady Liberty, both of them looking so young, were standing over the body and weeping as the crowd all around began to gather. The Centurion had lived just long enough to see his victory won, Mark remembered, and now that victory had been won: Omega was gone, the half-built Terminus towers in the heart of the city were beginning to rupture, and deactivated Omegadrones littered the ground. No wonder no one had noticed his arrival. _God, so many dead,_ Mark thought, the horror all around him beginning to settle in as he saw his beloved city broken and bleeding before him. _Why didn't I get here any-)_ "You! Son!" A man grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around, and Mark almost had a heart attack when he heard the words and recognized his father! Rick Lucas was in his late forties this crisp spring day, his hands cracked and bleeding from first-degree burns he'd sustained in hand-to-hand combat with Omegadrones. He didn't recognize Mark at all. "You a teleporter? I need to get to Ashton right now!" He added an address; the house Mark had just left, in more ways than one. It took Mark only a second, remembering his family history, why. Martha Lucas had been alone in the house with her infant son when the Omegadrones had come in the front door..."Yessir!" he barked, taking his father's hand. "I'll take you right there." And with that, they were both gone again, reappearing in seconds in front of Mark's old home. He took a step back at the sight of his childhood home, the front doors bashed in and blast damage everywhere, the houses next door equal disaster areas. Standing out front was a young Martha Lucas, young and beautiful in her mid-twenties, and in her arms was a tiny infant Mark recognized only too well. "Martha!" Rick ran for his wife, who whirled on him with tears in her eyes, her infant son watching with paci still clenched between his teeth. In a neighborhood like a warzone, with people digging out on either side, the young baby had not lost his binky. "Oh my sweet Lord, are you and Mark..." "We're...we're all right." said Martha, embracing him fiercely with her free arm. Suddenly, she crumbled or almost did, her voice tight and thick: "Oh, God, honey, they came in right through the door! They came in right through the door! I grabbed Mark and ran, and I ran and jumped over the fence as they were shooting at me, and..." She was shaking, and despite the timeline, Mark took a step towards his mother: luckily Rick was there to hold her up. "They're dead. The Tanners, the Lamberts, the Keatons...they just went house-to-house, killing everything! If I'd been a second slower grabbing Mark, if they hadn't stopped to drag away that poor Lewis boy, they'd have taken us!" She burst into tears, real ones. "Sssh, ssh, it's okay now, it's okay," said Rick comfortingly, obviously in shock himself after all he'd seen. "We won. The good guys won, even though it was so hard and we lost so many good people..." Rick Lucas had been everywhere that day, Mark remembered, fighting alongside the police, superheroes, saving lives on his own until finally he'd been there to watch the Centurion die. "Omega is gone. The Terminus is gone. We're safe. Our family is safe." They'd both forgotten Mark was there, it seemed, which was probably for the best as Martha would surely have been mortified for her son to see her punch her husband in the face. "The Centurion!?! That's where you were, wasn't it? You had to be there, in the city, with the Centurion and the superheroes! Not here with your family when we needed you!" There was no anger in her voice, just grief and terror and frustration and a thousand other things. "Did you do anything there that you couldn't have done here with your wife and son?" She met Rick's eyes, and he looked away for a moment before looking back at her. "I tried, honey. I tried so hard, but the freeways were down, and the new teleporters, they were all smashed, and the drones were everywhere...I did what I thought I had to do. I stayed and I fought, so things could be better for you and Mark and so those monsters could be gone from our lives." He took Martha and baby Mark in his arms, watched solemnly by his baby son and adult son too. "Martha, Mark, listen to me. I promise..." He took a long, shaky breath and said, "Whatever happens, next time there's a crisis, I'll do whatever I have to do to save you and Mark. Whatever people think of me, even if they think I'm a coward or selfish for picking my family first...I'll be there when you need me. Even if it takes a while. I love you, honey." And then they kissed, and baby Mark spat out his paci to cry in hunger, and Mark was there to help. "Uh, hey, I think the kid's crying," he said, stepping up with a bottle in his hand he'd produced from nowhere. Mark had been practicing making instant formula and the like, and it worked out okay. "Here, this is government-issue stuff. I'm Lucky Strike," he added. "I do this for a living." "Thank you," said Martha, putting the bottle in baby Mark's mouth and getting a gratifying response. The blonde-haired blue-eyed baby was still wearing the jumper he must have started the day in. "Oh, he likes it! I don't suppose you can make diapers, can you?" she asked practically. "I used his only diaper as a scent lure a couple of hours ago. Luckily he hasn't peed or pooped on me yet." As it happened, Mark could indeed make a diaper and he presented one to his mom and got a delighted cry in response. While she went to change him, Rick shook his hand. "Thanks for the help, Lucky Strike," he said seriously. "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd had to get out here on foot, worrying all the time. You're a real hero." He didn't seem inclined to chat, and Mark didn't need to think about why. Even with Dr. Metropolis, cleaning up after the Terminus invasion had taken months, and people were no doubt trapped all over the city. Too bad Lucky Strike would have to just slip into the same anonymity that had taken so many heroes that day. "So are you, Mr. Lucas," said Mark, his voice carefully friendly. "So are you. Take care of...of your family. Family always loves you. Whatever you do." He disappeared at that juncture, off into the wilds of Wharton Forest until the time portal pulled him back. It had been a very, very long day.

The Promenade was a bright spot of color amidst the high rises and R&D plants of Hanover. Jessica Parker strolled slowly along a gravel path that paralleled the Wading River. A water bottle swung from one hand and a double cheeseburger was a comfortable weight in her stomach. By a fortuitous coincidence of timing (she kept insisting to anyone who asked) the teen's class schedule had a ninety minute gap right around dinnertime. This was the first really nice day the city had had all year, and she meant to enjoy it. Of course, finals were barreling towards her; by all rights she should've been frantically working on her senior project. Fortunately, HIT's network extended a good half-mile past the campus ground. Jessica had left herself logged in on a workstation, and the bulk of her attention was focused there. She left just enough of herself free to enjoy being able to do so. There was a sudden flickering of motion in the corner of her eye. Before she could turn to look at it more fully, it rushed at her. She opened her mouth-- the shock of disconnection was like a bucket of cold water to the face. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t in Freedom City anymore. She was in some place hot and humid, moisture dripping off something nearby. She couldn’t tell exactly what since the area was entirely pitch-black. The young inventor had a quick solution to that problem, though. She touched the slim bracelet she wore and her armor unfolded from extradimensional space, then folded around her. The suit’s enhanced senses easily cut through the darkness, revealing thick jungle undergrowth all around. She couldn’t pinpoint her position because her GPS refused to link up, but at least she knew she was somewhere equatorial. There was a ground-shaking thud somewhere off to her right. Ironclad rose into the air, above the treetops. There was an air field in that direction, and she could zoom in and see men in uniforms toting Kalashnikov rifles – a military airbase, then. There was a single huge figure on one of the runways, shooting flames from one arm. Ironclad’s immediate reaction was to swoop in and save everyone, but she checked that impulse – she didn’t know the situation, didn’t know who was who. Then the huge figure raised its other arm and belched out a ribbon of cannon fire that cut three men in half. No matter what, a hero had to stop stuff like that. Ironclad charged in and collided with the big figure with a metallic clang. It’s a suit, she realized, another suit. They wrestled for a several minutes, neither able to gain the upper hand. Finally the larger suit threw Ironclad into the treeline. As she was picking herself up she heard it make a radio transmission. It was encrypted, but the code was so out-of-date that the heroine broke it nearly in realtime. “Ironclad reporting in,†it transmitted. “Target responding with unusual force. Retreating to base.†Rockets fired from its feet and back and the colossus rose into the air, slowly at first but it accelerated quickly. Not so fast that the heroine couldn’t have caught up, but the intercepted message had floored her. The only other person to ever use the code-name Ironclad was her grandfather, back when he worked for the government. If she had been moved back in time that would explain why the encryption was out of date (and why she couldn’t link up to the GPS satellites) but her grandfather had been a hero. So why was he killing those soldiers? Said soldiers were jogging across the tarmac towards her, rifles raised at their shoulders. Before Ironclad could respond, she picked up a blue hole in the air opening up behind her. It rushed forward and the jungle popped liked a soap bubble, leaving the heroine back in the park. She remotely checked several different clocks, comparing them to her suit’s. Her little jaunt had, as far as she could tell, taken no time at all. She could’ve gone straight back to working on her poject, but the young woman had a sudden urge to look into her grandfather’s service record.

"Hunh," Dead Head murmured, looking up from the blasted, arid landscape to the smog-choked skies above, then down at his own flame-engulfed body. "Okay, one minute I'm in North Bay, lookin' fer a video provin' a girl's stepmother poisoned 'er, the next I'm... in Hell? An' Mutt ain't here with me." It wasn't just the sight of the place that lead him to think that, or the fact it was so hot he had almost immediately burst into flames. The first thing to hit him was the smell: everything reeked of brimstone. At least the toxic atmosphere wasn't going to suffocate him. "Okay, I'm on fire," he mused, looking down at himself, "but judgin' by the rate my body's regeneratin', I'd say it's... hotter'n that big pizza oven I was shoved in to, but cooler'n the crematoriums I've been crammed into. But this heat," he looked up again, seeing nothing but thick yellow-brown clouds, "ain't from no sun, so shade wouldn't help... not that there's much t'offer shade anyway. But standin' here ain't gonna do me no good, so I'd best start walkin'." And walk he did, stumbling occasionally as his connective tissues were rendered into liquid by the pressure cooker-like environment, then re-set due to his supernatural regenerative processes. He trudged on, across a dried riverbed. As he went, it struck him how desolate the place was: nothing was around, not living, dead, or undead. It was utterly bleak, and he was utterly alone. Later he crossed a dried lake bed, one so vast it could well have been the edge of an ocean. After trudging across it, he saw the first sign of, well, anything: a dark, metallic pyramid, pitted and scorched, as old as anything he'd ever seen. And a figure was walking out of it, towards him. "Hey!," Dead Head called out, waving his flaming arms until they separated from the shoulders. "Hey! Finally, someone to talk to! Maybe they can tell me where... I... am?" A deep rumble overhead caught his attention. A black, oily ran began to fall, and Dead Head realized why everything smelled like brimstone: the rain was sulfuric acid. "Awww, crap..." As the combination of fire and acid overcame his regeneration and reduced him to a puddle of foul-smelling goo, he saw the figure getting closer. It wore a silvery uniform, like some pulp spaceman, with an opaque golden helmet, and around him clung a blue field of light. The last thing Dead Head's melting eyes saw was the figure leaning over him with a bucket. Dead Head awoke inside a large chamber, made of an odd dark metal and with one wall sloping in at the top. He sat up from the simple cot he was laid out on, and looked down, glad to see he was no longer aflame, but also very naked. "Guess the feller brought me in. Probably don't see many folks 'round here." "That's 'cuz there ain't been on one 'round here in millennia," the spaceman said, standing in an opening that had appeared in the wall. Dead Head stood, "you sound like me. Why d'you sound like me?" The spaceman laughed a familiar laugh. "You seen enough movies," he removed his helmet, revealing a second Dead Head, "t'know why." "Whoa... okay, so, this is the future, right?" Present!Dead Head walked over to Future!Dead Head and looked over him. "What happened, nukes go off? World War 3?" "Yup, it's the future – that's how I knew t'bring a bucket, I knew you -- that is, I - would be out there. But 't'weren't no war what did this: this here's all-natural. Way you'd judge the date, it's... well, lemme see... I'd need to check my calendars, but I think it's the year 3,500,000,000. And I ain't seen a single soul in a few hundred million years." Present!Dead Head's jaw dropped, though it did remain attached. "Took me a while t'figure it out, but with all the time I got, even I can learn things like astronomy an' climatology, an' engineerin'." He waved one hand, "built this whole place myself, outta some Impervium sheets I found in the ruins’a ASTRO Labs. Figured out how ta make more, after a few decades studyin'." He reached out, snapped his younger self's mouth shut, "but, uh, yeah, we've had a few near-misses, with comets and meteors an' supervillains an' crackpot dictators, but there was still some folks 'round to stop 'em all. But the Sun, it just kept gettin' brighter and brighter, 'till the oceans boiled away! They’d all left by then. All of 'em, goin' with they families," his voice trailed off. "'All of 'em'? Wait, the spirits, too? Well, I s'pose that makes sense, if they's tied to a family, not a place. But the ones that was tied to a place-" "I helped 'em cross over," his future self replied. "All of 'em... all 'round the globe... what else could I do?" Dead Head's jaw went slack again. "But... how long did that... it musta taken you -- me -- hundreds... thousands a' years!" "Tens a' thousands. An' once I did all that, I came back here, and started on this." "This? The pyramid? It- wait... this is still Freedom City, right? This... is this the-" His future self shook his head, "nah, not Scarab's place: it's where the Space Control Center was, yes. Been buildin' me a rocket, gonna jet off a'fore the Sun goes to a Red Giant an' engulfs the Earth. See if I can find others -- humanity made it off'a here long ago, I'm sure they'd still out there. I got another… oh, billion and a half or so years ta get it done. I got time." The time-tossed zombie scratched his head, "'kay, so, I figured somethin' like this might happen, me outlivin' everyone I ever knew, that I'd jes' keep on helpin' spirits cross over... but if'n you already did all that, how'd you keep from goin' crazy'a loneliness?" His future self shook his head, "man, cain't believe how thick I used t'be," he murmured. "I done toldja, I done all this, learnin’ pretty much all there is ta learn. Finally got to read all the books wanted… which is good, since they all went up in flames a few hun'red million years ago. An', 'cuz I'm you, I 'member all this – an' I 'member showin' up one day an' havin' a long talk with my self, hangin' out an' reminiscin' 'bout stuff, tellin' ya stuff 'bout my past that's too far inta yer future t'be much of any help..." Dead Head's brows furrowed, his future self merely shrugged. "An' I 'member not bein' insane when I met myself, so I guess holdin' on t'that thought is what kept me sane all this time." "Man, this is makin' mah head hurt!" "Eh, try not ta think too hard 'bout it," his future self said, placing a gloved hand on his naked shoulder. "C'mon, lemme show ya what all I done. You'll like it!" Police Blotter: 911 call in North Freedom district, homeowner reported 'a naked bum' in the kitchen. Officers went to investigate, and found signs of forced exit, but no sign of any intruders.

2011, April 2, 5:23 pm EST Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City. "A little more... a little more... there!" Archeville set his calibrators down, and used a set of tweezers to carefully lift the item he was working on: a sliver of Daka crystal, no more than 30mm wide, which pulsed with a red glow most would find disconcerting. He transferred it to the special pocket watch he had been working on for the past three months – which already contained seventeen other such crystals, though these were each a mere 1mm across – and closed the timepiece up. The watch, a fine piece of engineering the envy of any Swiss watchmaker, had a transparent back so the internal workings could be seen, especially with the red light of the eighteen crystals bathing everything in a red glow. The front had not one but six sets of hands, a large one in front of and surrounded by five smaller ones; spaced equidistantly around the edge of the piece were six knobs. He gave it a final visual inspection, then looked up to its larger companion piece. The Zeittor was a large set of rings, one within the other, approximately 4.5 m (15 feet) in diameter, set on a shock-absorbing stabilization platform. Thick cables connected it to a short pedestal with a round inclined control panel on top, consisting of two concentric circles of buttons and a translucent red hemisphere in the center. He lifted the hemisphere, and looked over one of the components: a large clear tube, filled with blue-white lightning and some other odd mechanical bits. Below the tube was the spot where the timepiece would go, where six small manipulators could pull and twist the knobs of the piece during operation. A smile spread across Archeville's face. He closed the hemisphere and place the watch in a small velvet-lined box on a workbench, then checked the clock on the wall. "Ah, dinner! I wonder where Mona will want to go?" He flew off, buoyed by his Gravimetric Belt, and the lights to his workshops shut off behind him. 2011, April 14, 11:45 pm EST Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City The lights began to come up in Archeville's workshop, but dimmed to one quarter normal illumination following a barked command in German. Bare feet slapped against the floor as a figure approached the Zeittor, and the bench with the watch upon it. Webbed hands carefully opened the box, and talons clacked against the face of the timepiece. The monster that was/is Archeville loped down the halls to a concealed section of the workshop. Green lips pulled back into n inhumanly wide smile, revealing both rows of teeth, as he looked over the gold and blue suit of armor, the suit of Chevalier. Once the suit was on, he jetted back to the Zeittor, and placed the timepiece into the pedestal. Without the timepiece, the system could still be used as a teleporter, and he had set it to a stretch of beach along the English Channel coast of Northern France, near La Madeleine, Manche, an area better known to certain historians as Utah Beach. Now for the temporal coordinates, though not a time to go to, but rather how far back or forward to go. The main hands set hour and minute, and four of the smaller ones set millennium and century, decade and year, month and day, and seconds. The fifth set the duration of trip. Archeville shook his head to clear the question from his mind. The clock struck midnight, and he activated the gate. The inner ring spun, and the air in the gateway shimmered and 'thickened' into a quicksilver disc, which exploded out both sides as a swirling vortex. The vortexes quickly stilled, and the rings appeared to be filled with a vertical puddle of water. He removed the timepiece, stowing it in a compartment on his breastplate, and stepped through the portal. Unknown Date, an hour or so before sunset Unknown Place The portal appeared in the middle of a thick forest, several feet in the air, dumping Archeville to the ground quite unceremoniously. He landed in a snowdrift, and the impact shook more snow off the trees and onto him. was the first intelligible nonvulgar word he said following the string of curses and animalistic screeches with which he initially responded. he clambered up and performed a few tests, Archeville flew up to get a better view. He saw a large frozen lake to the east, and a small village to the west. He headed west, activating the armor’s cloaking system as he flew. It was very quickly evident that he had gone back much further than 60-some years he had planned: based on the styles of both the clothing and building construction, he had gone back several hundred years, to the late middle ages! He continued flying around the city, looking for anything remotely familiar. Though this 'Hyde' aspect of Archeville was less intelligent than the 'Jekyll' everyone else knew, he was still a polymath genius, and could recognize the snippets of conversation he heard as being in an Early New High variant of Swabian, indicating he was somewhere in southwest Germany, between 1350-1650. But even with his extensive knowledge of the area where he’d spent his youth, the intervening 500+ years had changed things considerably; many of the landmark buildings he knew simply were not built yet. The sun was setting, and he was just about ready to fly off in search of another city, when an exchange below him told him everything he’d need to know. Archeville followed his ancestor, remaining cloaked and staying just high enough that his armor's jets did not disturb anything. After 15 minutes, he realized his ancestor lived the bog-standard life of any Medieval fisherman with a wife and a son. A ping from his armor's radar drew his attention. It had detected nearly a hundred man-sized beings, sweeping in from the east. He flew in to investigate, but what he saw was something wholly unexpected: hideous grey-green fish/frog/snake-men, hopping and loping through the moonlit forest. he said as he powered up his armaments, A cry behind him caused him to turn – one of the creatures had snuck ahead, and had snatched up Vischer! 2011, April 15, 12:01 am EST Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City The portal in the Zeittor shrank down to a pinpoint of grey-blue light hanging in the center of the ring, as designed. This pinprick in spacetime would allow the timepiece carried by Archeville – a key component to the system – to remain connected to the time gate, and for the system to retrieve a traveler from whenever they were. Such a setup was necessary due to the size of the time gate, and future upgrades included making the entire system into an easily portable unit, so such connections would not be necessary. There was some concern that such 'lifelines' could cause unstable warps in spacetime at any point between the traveler’s departure and arrival points, or even tears to any space or time. Such warps were appearing all over Freedom City right now. 1430, late winter, night Freiburg, Germany Dozens of the Deep Ones lay dead in the snow, staining it with their azure blood. A wall of fire raged along the eastern edge of the village, separating the people from the monsters. The fire, laid down by Archeville (and in such a way that it would not spread too much), served a secondary purpose: to distract the villagers, to block their vision with smoke, and thus prevent them from even seeing the monsters right outside. After blasting, punching, and otherwise slaughtering dozens of the creatures, they — including the one carrying his ancestor – retreated, heading back into the forest. Archeville gave chase, flying above the treeline for maximum mobility, and noted they were heading east. Archeville managed some strafing runs in the few clearings, but the one carrying his ancestor kept dodging his blasts. Once they reached the lake, the creature dove in through a large hole in the ice, carrying the man with him! Archeville dove in after, the armor easily switching from aerial to aquatic maneuvering, though the fish-man was even faster in the water than it had been on land. Archeville could see his ancestor struggling in the creature’s clutches gasping for air as they darted into an underwater tunnel; Archeville redirected more energy to his propulsion systems. It was not long before the creature broke the surface of the water, appearing in a vast subterranean chamber, filled with scores of the weird fish-men. The creature tossed its catch to the ground, then turned just in time for Archeville to ram his gauntleted fist through its chest and out its back. The others began to close in, but Archeville's attention was on his ancestor. Vischer lay unmoving on the cavern floor. Blood trickled from a wound on his head. 2011, April 15, early morning Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City Had there been more tests, Archeville would have discovered that the wormhole-generating tech used in the system, which was derived from the wormhole-generating tech used in his Gravimetric Belt, would create time tears wherever Archeville had used his Gravimetric Belt’s teleportation function, with the size and intensity of the wormhole increasing in places where he had used his Belt's teleportation most often. Which was why the largest portals were appearing in City Center (near Freedom Hall), Hanover (near ASTRO Labs, HIT, his home, and ArcheTech), Wading Way (near Pyramid Plaza, which stands over the Scarab’s Lair), Waterfront (near at an apartment building northeast of the Freedom Aquarium, where Fulcrum had lived), and West End (near the Interceptor’s Brownstone). 1430, later winter, night. Cavern lair of Deep Ones, under Lake Constance, Germany All Archeville's weaponry crackled to life as targeting systems drew beads on the scores of Deep Ones around him. A loud roar cut through the hisses and gurgling of the hordes about them, and they all turned to the back of the cavern. A path parted, and a robed fish/frog/snake-man covered in golden jewelry strode forward, tapping its long golden staff authoritatively with each step. It looked down at Vischer's still form with bulbous, milky eyes, then up to the golden armored figure of Archeville, and cocked its head. The robed Deep One knelt down and ran a claw over Vischer's face, and turned its face up to look at Archeville. It looked back down to Vischer and turned him over, revealing the gruesome extent of the head trauma he had suffered when the other creature had tossed him to the ground. Archeville powered down his weapons; the creatures began to move forward, but their leader held up its staff, and they pulled back. He reached up to his helmet and disengaged the seals, flipping up his faceplate before removing the entire helmet and dropping it to the ground. He looked around the chamber with his own bulging, shark-like eyes, a let out a low, steady hiss. The robed creature bowed it head, and the other creatures fell prostrate before Archeville, gurgling inchoate words of praise. 2011, April 15, late morning Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City Since the teleporters used by ArcheTech were based on Archeville's wormhole tech, time tears appeared near them, too: near the branches in California, Florida, Illinois, Indiana, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Texas, and Wisconsin. Outside the United States, tears appeared in Belgium, Brazil, Canada, France, Germany (which had the most of any place besides Freedom City, since he had used his own Gravimetric Belt to teleport all over), Iraq (not due to an ArcheTech facility, but due to Archeville's own teleports when Fulcrum showed him her homeland), Japan, the Netherlands, Poland, Russia, and the United Kingdom. A few even appeared in space, along the path ArcheStern traveled in geosynchronous orbit! 1430, later winter, night. Cavern lair of Deep Ones, under Lake Constance, Germany Vischer lay upon a great stone altar in the back of the cavern, connected to a life support system jury rigged from parts taken from Archeville's armor. His body was stable, but he was unconscious, and brain activity was steadily declining. he barked at the robed Deep One. The robed figure nodded, and raised its arms and began to chant. Other Deep Ones joined in, their slow, gurgling ululations echoing throughout the cavern. Archeville demanded. He raised a hand, and a bolt of energy slammed into one of the creatures, killing it, but they did not stop in their chanting. Two more fell, but the chanting continued; if anything, it sped up ever so slightly. An idea seized him, Something sparked in his eyes, and a cackling laugh rose. The Deep Ones continued their chanting. The first signs of their magical work manifest, a slight shimmering in the air, like an oil slick on water. Archeville powered his weaponry, aimed at the out edges of the ritual gathering, and slowly blasted his way inward. His hypothesis proved sound: each Deep One that fell did add power to the ritual, and the rift between dimensions quickly formed, making a sound like tearing a wet burlap sack. The five Deep Ones that remained cheered as something began to squeeze through, a mass of eyes and tentacles and beaks. 2011, April 16, 12:00am Haus von Archeville, Hanover, Freedom City The pinpoint of light in the center of the Zeittor expanded into a disc, filling the gate. Archeville’s armored form stepped out, and looked about the workshop. The portal destabilized as the Daka crystal fragments in the timepiece and in the control pedestal exploded. Since the timepiece was still in his armor’s breastplate, this proved quite troublesome. he grunted, the armor absorbing just enough of the explosion to not kill him. He staggered to the medical bay, he added as waldoes peeled the armor off him. He lay back on the operating table, taking in several slow, deep breaths. "What the?," Archeville blurted out as an autodoc's manipulator was removing a large piece of shrapnel from his torso. "What happened? Wha- why are the alarms going off? Why is my torso a pincushion? Why is there smoke coming from the Zeittor?! Computer! Status report!" 1430, later winter, two days later Freiburg, Germany As the robed Deep One fell to Archeville's energy blast, it smiled inwardly. It knew what would happen, what had happened, what must happen. And knew that their god would be reborn in the future-man more powerful than ever. Vischer Archeville stumbled down the road, through the burned remains of the eastern section of the village. Other than looking haggard and harrowed, he seemed physically fine; Archeville’s infusions and surgeries left no outward sign that his ancestor harbored non-human tissues within him. But something had clearly happened to him. he demanded of the first passerby.

Dead Head Whole Kit and Kaddishle (2; also GM/NPC posts) 2 posts + 46 from Dok + 2 GM = 50 posts = 4pp + flipped Ref point = 5pp Doktor Archeville [maxed] News Thread (3) Ballistics Is A Science, Right? (1) Dine and Crash (3) Freyja's Day, Freyja's Day, Freyja's Day (7) The Heroes are NEAR (2) I KAN HAZ HUMANITY? (2; also GM/NPC posts) Interceptors: Planning for the Big Day (2) Magnets! How Do They Work? Science, You Clown! (1) Now You're Moving With Wormholes (8) A Perfect Storm (9) Second Opinion (13) Sleep Sound Tonight (16) Something Old and Something New (3) 3+1+3+7+2+2+2+1+8+9+13+16+3 = 70 posts = 4pp +1 Ref = 5pp add 46 posts to Dead Head, 24 to Protectron! And Ref point flips to Dead Head! Protectron Checking Out the Territory (1) Just Another Sunday (1) There's A Little Grue In All Of Us (1) 1+1+1 = 3 posts + 24 from Dok = 27 posts = 3pp GM and NPC Freedom City News Forum (1) I KAN HAZ HUMANITY? (1; also IC posts) Whole Kit and Kaddishle (2; also IC posts) 1+1+2 posts = 4/2 = +2 posts, to Dead Head

In order to make sure the Refs accurately count all your IC posts and award you the due amount of power points, please post with a list of all the threads in which your character posted IC this month (including the News forum). Please also mark things from the Non-Canonical forum as being non-canonical, as those count 1/2 (2 posts made for your char in a non-canon thread count as 1 post for the char). And if you are GMing something, list those threads, too. GM-only posts -- as well as NPC Villain posts -- also count 1/2, and can be assigned to whichever of your characters needs a 'push' to get up in post numbers. When you make your list, please post a link to the IC threads -- preferably to the top of the page where your first post for that month appears -- so we (and the auto-count program) can jump right to it. When you post the link to your thread, the URL should look like this http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=4478&p=100643#p100643 or this http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=4478&start=10 or this http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=4478 NOT this http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/viewtopic.php?p=100643#p100643 The four digit number in the URL (bolded & underlined in the correct example) is the thread id number which we need to use the autocountamotron. When you start a thread, make sure [iC] is in the title/subject line of the IC thread, and [OOC] is in the title of the OOC thread. If you make a post in an IC thread as a GM or an NPC, add [GM] in the subject line of the thread. If you make a post and [iC] is not in the subject line, the AutoCounter will not count it. And if you do not put [GM] in the places you post as an NPC or Ref, it won't count those properly. Please list your threads in alphabetical order. Please clearly note any threads in which you are both player and GM/running an NPC. Also, when you start a new thread, please mark it on the Timeline (if you have a handle here, you have an account for the Wiki, and anyone with an account can edit it). You do not have to be specific on the date, but I would like to keep track of when things are happening relative to each other. The Timeline also serves as an index for everything we've done in the nearly three years this site's been active, and it's useful to know if X happens before or after Y. If you've done any extracurriculars -- artwork, HellQ, 20 Questions, NPC, Vignette, Wiki work, etc. -- please be sure to list them along with your active threads. Failure to comply with these guidelines may result in your post counts being postponed or skipped completely.

"Wir sind frei, ja. Tatsächlich, kommen wir von einem Platz heisst Freedom." He turned to Mona, "these people need our help, liebchen. Seems there is a Warlord out there -- his name, not a mere title -- and it would appear his fist grasps much of the world. They also seem to recognize my name, and the woman is surprised I escaped." She knew, by the set of his jaw and the steely glint in his eyes, that he was already planning half a dozen ways to help these total strangers on this unknown world. "Oh, I also do not think we are in the past, we may be in an alternate world... or maybe the distant future." He turned back to the couple, "Fulcrum und ich werde dem Stoppen von Unterdrückung und von Tyrannei eingeweiht, eingeweiht dem Verbessern der Leben der Volk. Wenn wir helfen können, werden wir."

"Ooookay," he said aside to Fulcrum, "unless these are survivalists from a RenFaire, it would seem we did go back in time." Archeville turned to the man, holding his hands up, palms outward. "Wir bedeuten Sie kein Schaden, mein gute Herr. Wir sind von einem entfernten Land, und wurden hier durch eine merkwürdige Kraft geholt." "Ich bin Doktor Archeville, und sie," he gestured towards Mona, "heisst Fulcrum." "Sie sagen, dass dieses der Wald von Tränen, ja? Wir sind mit diesem Platz nicht vertraut. Gibt es irgendwelche Städte in der Nähe?

The strange robot's head tilted down a hair. "This is... depressing." It looked back up, and continued speaking, though its flat electronic monotone did not alter at all. "Space is so vast, and planets so far apart, that it would seem illogical to waste time in such id-driven displays. Do you know if this is a common occurrence among non-terrestrial species? Is it so rare a thing for species from different worlds to reach out to help one another, for the betterment of all?" Protectron slowly walked around Gossamer!Atlas, scanning 'her' up and down to record every inch, its metallic feet clanging regularly upon the floor. "How big or small a form can you take? Are you only able to take existing forms, with minor alterations -- such as transparent skin on Friend-de Havilland -- or can you do radical alterations? Could you," it barely paused as it recalled a website it had seen featuring assorted mythological creatures, "take the form of Friend-de Havilland as a centaur, or as a mermaid?"

Protectron's unflinching gaze never left Katastrof, though its hands remained hovering over the keyboards. "The dangers I had heard of," the strange robot began, in its same flat electronic monotone, "is that all actual attempts at extracting vacuum energy resulted in the creation of new, exotic particles with unknown properties, which made such processes impossible to stabilize. The only safe alternative I have heard proposed was to tap into the vacuum energy of a region of subspace, where the unwanted exotic particles could be left and only the usable energy would be extracted." "As for my proposal to place solar panels on the far side of the moon," it tapped away on the keyboard, and a list of names appeared, some with small videos of news footage, "there are a number of superpowered metahumans, such as Dark Star and Supercape, or superheros utilizing advanced technology, such as Daedalus, Doktor Archeville, and Star Knight, who can effortlessly make the trip and place those panels. Protection of the panels could be achieved via a super-tough transparent polymer, such as the ones used in certain cells at Blackstone Federal Penitentiary."

"I," he began, chuckling despite himself, "I suppose that is somewhat comforting." Archeville repeated what he had told Miss Americana earlier, complete with 'dramatic reveal' at the end. "Oh, and I should also mention an additional method of treatment I had been using: telepathic therapy, with... oh, I may as well," he shrugged, "let the few people who know my secret know of each other. In addition to the two of you, three others know the full extent of my problem, though there are likely many others who suspect. Hexe, a heroine from my homeland, was the first to learn of it. Scarab, with whom I have worked on numerous cases, also knows, and it is with her that I have been undergoing psionic therapy, with marginal success. Last, but by no means least, is dear Mona, better known to many as Fulcrum."

"Sidekick?," he repeated, tilting his head to one side. "'Citizen'? I... I would not think you the type to take on a sidekick. However did that happen?" "Ah!," he straightened up and snapped his fingers, "he is something -- pardon, someone -- you created, right? A partner to assist you, like the robot you brought into ArcheTech... ah, Colin, right?" He nodded at the recollection, "but not a robot, a sapent AI. With a holographic body, from a very compact holographic emitter, right?"

"I-," he began, then paused, brow furrowing. "Right," he nodded, "bring her in, let us see what she can make of it."

"I had considered that," he admitted, "but, well, I am biased and not nearly as objective as I should be on this particular case." He smiled half-heartedly at the self-deprecation. "Also, the fact you have pointed all this out further indicates I made the right choice in coming to you with this." At this, the smile had some genuine warmth behind it. Many of the scans were unusual (even given what had been described), in that while numerous regions did show abnormalities associated with the disorders he had mentioned, she could detect no pattern to the damage, the peaks and valleys of activity, which she should have been able to do given the timeline of images presented. It was almost as if his brain was acting like an improperly overclocked computer, with greatly increased overall performance, frequent minor glitches, and occasional near-catastrophic failures. Yet the glitches and failures all somehow got corrected, at least to a level he had been able to manage.

Archeville listened with rapt attention. "'Fascinating!" "I would very much like to visit this place -- the alterations to the Natural Laws sound fascinating!" His eyes practically shone as ideas roiled and bubbled in his head; the menu dropped from his hands. "If your friend ever returns, I hope you have enough time to send me notice, so I can join in!" "Oh, did the Atoms help out any? They seem keen to that sort of thing."

He squeezed her hand and smiled. "Possible," he said in response to her comment on time displacement, "since my wormholes can -- theoretically -- breach time as well as space. But that is not necessarily what happened: we could have merely been shunted to the other side of the planet. Perhaps to Russia, or one of the Scandinavian countries." "And if we are in those, that is not so bad, as I know a few folks scattered about there. As for what happened... well, I am not sure exactly," he held up the sputtering, smoking Screwdriver, "and cannot figure it all out for certain until I get this fixed. Which will be much easier if we can find a city." "My thoughts exactly, lieb- ah!" The sudden arrival of her belongings startled him as much as her. He stared at her life strewn about them for a moment. "Well... upside is, they all made it in one piece, undamaged, and everything seems to be here. Downside... is that we will need to find some way to schlep it all to wherever it is we are going to g-" He shifted to a defensive stance, and was surrounded by the blue glow of his force field. "Something is coming... that way... moving fast... and I came prepared to move furniture, not engage in battle..."

That's a parrot? All this time I've thought it was a dancing green blob monster, that the beak was a gaping maw! Notice check (no E.S. aid, no Enhanced Wis) (1d20+10=27) w00t!

"Liebchen," he gasped from under the force of her overenthusiastic hug, "... my bones... and... organs... ack!" Once released, he staggered a bit, regaining solid footing after a moment. "Well, pretty sure we are not dead, because I am in far too much pain to have left my physical body." He stretched, looked around, and watched his breath in the air. He walked over to the nearest tree, "looks like pine, smells like pine...." Then he looked up, taking a few steps backwards to get a good view of the night sky. "and those are all the constellations that should be up there... so we should still be in the Northern hemisphere. Maybe a few hundred miles north, into Quebec..." He looked around again, "er... did you see where your stuff went?" Freedom City, Earth-Prime "Did you find out what set off the alarm?," the security guard yelled over the blaring klaxons going off in the security station. "Not yet, ma'am," the junior officer replied, "but we've-" The alarms silenced, and the monitor screens all flickered. A new image appeared, readouts neither officer was familiar with. "Uhhh..." The senior officer swore, "get one of the techies in here, they can- oh. Ohhh..." Amidst the streams of data, two lines stood out in stark, bold font DIMENSIONAL BREACH DETECTED and ELECTROMAGNETIC SCREWDRIVER SIGNAL LOST

Archeville returned Colt's smile; he liked working with people who were justifiably confident in their skills. "Makes sense, though if you let me study those pieces for a day or two..." His words trailed off to a chuckle. "I already planned on seeing Eli tomorrow, and I saw Erik yesterday. I do need to schedule time with Lynn, though," he said, drumming on his chin with two fingers. "Scanners and communications are on the upgrade schedule, too, though. Making the advanced equipment from the medbay potable enough to include in the MAVERIC... does pose some problems, though: much of it is keyed specifically to the five of you -- er, the six of us," he corrected, "which was necessary both to increase its efficacy and as a security safeguard. Making it usable on a wider number of people -- such as the general public -- would require downgrading or removing many of those safeguards, both making it less effective and more likely for something to go wrong."

And now for something more decadent: Tres Leche Cake. Ingredients Yellow or Golden Butter Cake mix (plus whatever eggs, butter, oil, etc. the mix calls for), or homemade yellow/golden cake of your choice 1 can evaporated milk 1 can condensed milk 1/2 pint heavy whipping cream Topping for cake (I've used cool-whip, but you can also make your own whipped topping) Garnish (cherries, fresh berries, cinnamon, etc.) Directions Bake the cake mix as directed in a 13 x 9 inch pan, let cool. Once cooled, pierce 20-30 holes in the cake with a chopstick or skewer. Mix the 3 kinds of milk in a bowl. Pour milk mix slowly over the cake. It may not look like it will take it all, so pour as much as you can without it spilling over the side, then wait 15 minutes. This should be enough time for it to absorb enough that you can add the rest. Refrigerate the cake for at least an hour (preferably overnight) to let it absorb all the tres leche mix. Put topping and garnish on cake.

A very simple recipe for cake, one healthier than the normal box cake mixes due to lack of eggs and oil. Ingredients One (1) box cake mix (Spice, Yellow, Chocolate, etc.) One (1) large can pie filing, or two (2) small cans pie filling (pumpkin, apple, cherry, strawberry, etc.) Directions Dump contents of both into large bowl, mix thoroughly. This will take some due to the decreased amount of liquid. Bake at temperature & time indicated on cake mix box. I've tried the following combos so far: Apple Pie Filling + Spice Cake Mix Cherry Pie Filling + Chocolate Cake Mix Pumpkin Pie Filling + Spice Cake Mix All turned out quite well.

"Indeed," he nodded, "though I would certainly appreciate a second opinion on the brain scanners as well as the brain scans. My ultimate goal is to develop some medical nanites that could get in there and get a close-up look, tiny cameras actually inside the brain... but, as for the energy field..." He took another deep breath, and exhaled slowly as he made himself comfortable on a nearby chair. "It happened when I was visiting a colleague, here in Freedom. She is a very powerful metahuman -- well, she would say 'sorceress' -- and I opened and read a passage from one of her 'spellbooks,' thinking there would be no harm in doing so. Arrogant, in hindsight, or at least foolishly cavalier," he chastised himself. "Anyway, next thing I know, I am speaking in tongues, and several weird octopus-like creatures appeared in the air. They flew out, started attacking people, but fortunately there were other heroes on hand who quickly stopped them before any serious damage was done. Sadly, the creatures dissolved and evaporated once they hit the ground. Shortly after that, I returned home, feeling exceptionally drained; when I woke the next morning, I slowly realized that... well... that the voices were gone." "Unfortunately, since then she has not returned my calls, so I have been unable to talk to her about what may have happened. My hypothesis, though," he leaned back slightly, getting slightly more at ease with the shift in topic, "is that the symbols in the book somehow caused a physical manifestation of certain aspects of my psyche -- almost like an exorcism, used by those who mistook schizophrenia for demonic possession -- which could then be confronted in a very direct and physical manner. Which, if true, would be quite revolutionary in a number of fields..." His eyes lost focus for a moment, then snapped back, "Of course, my concern is that if those creatures were formed from my atypical mental energies, some negative aspects of my psyche, then what happened to that energy when they were beaten and dissolved? Did they return to me, but now more controlled and subdued, fully integrated into my mindscape? Or did they jump into the nearest person, cursing them with all my problems? Or did it dissipate into the 'collective consciousness,' a meme waiting to pounce on someone trapped in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"I am glad you think so," he said, fidgeting slightly less, "and I did send those to you via the ArcheTech servers as they are ArcheTech projects, though all three were initiated by me. You see, I- hrm... well, let me just show you." He offered her a small flash drive. When she connected it, she found scores of brain scans, spaced about a month apart over the course of several years, using a variety of common (and slightly uncommon) methods. "The subject has presented symptoms of numerous mental and behavioral disorders, including the auditory hallucinations and paranoia of schizophrenia, as well as certain hyperfocus aspects of Asperger Syndrome, and the cognitive peaks and valleys of bipolar disorder. The most prominent symptom, though, is dissociative identity disorder, with a strong secondary personality embodying many of the subject's instinctive drives and impulses. As you can see from the scans, though, they show little to no deviation from standard brain functioning." He paused, swallowed, "many members of the subject's family have expressed mental and behavioral disorders, so there appear to be strong genetic predisposition to these conditions; subject also had a tumultuous upbringing, with many environmental factors that could have contributed to the disorders. Subject was receiving medication -- a mixture of carbamazepine, clonazepam, fluoxetine, and lithium carbonate -- but approximately six months ago the subject was exposed to an unknown energy field which appears to have completely suppressed many of the disorders, including the manifestation of the second personality. Concern remains of potential relapses, of course, and there is additional concern that the recent mental usurpation by the 'Conquering Mind' could be a trigger for such a relapse. Subjects is highly visible and respected, though, so discretion is requested." He paused again, took a deep breath. "And because it needs to be said, for my own good if not also yours: the subject is me. And I am hoping you can lay some of my fears to rest."