Dr Archeville

Archeville was silent as the group talked amongst itself. "First off," he began, "let me preface what I am about to say by reminding you all that while we do have time on our side, this is not a project on which we can procrastinate. Especially if anything we do winds up, somehow, making the situation worse. Supercape and Blueshift are both right: should this hit, even in the middle of the Atlantic, it will be an extinction-level event. The impact would create a fireball about 900 km in diameter. It will last for five hours, and from Freedom City would appear 70 times bigger than and 600 times brighter than the Sun. Assuming they could see it, as the heat from this thing would be so great that Freedom City and everything in it would ignite one minute after impact. The entire United States would be hit by a magnitude 12.0 earthquake -- Freedom City ten minutes after impact, Seattle, Washington 30 minutes after. 2.5 hours after impact, Freedom City will be hit with a 309 psi overpressure blast, with wind speeds of 1,160 m/s and a sound intensity of 127 dB. Four hours after impact, the tsunami waves hit, and those waves will average 650 meters high. Six hours after impact, Seattle, Washington will be hit by a 47.9 psi overpressure blast, with winds at 403 m/s and a sound intensity of 111 dB. And that is just the short-term effects: the dust and debris tossed up into the atmosphere would block out the Sun." "But none of that is going to happen," he said firmly. "We are going to stop it, and hopefully do so with no one on Earth learning of it. Because that is what heroes do: protect others, from threats known and unknown." "Fortunately, this task will be made considerably easier by the Pegasus-class Space-Plane I have obtained from the Lighthouse; it can take use there in about ten minutes. So no worries on not being able to teleport us all there, old bean," he said with a wink to Supercape. He then turned to Victory, "and you will be flying it, Major Victory, a task for which I am certain you are qualified. Now, to answer your question about the density of the asteroid, I must confess we are not yet able to determine that, so the current model assumes a midway point between porous and dense rock. Presuming it is no more than twice as dense as that, drilling should not be a problem, should that be a tactic we use. And, fortunately for us, should it come to that, many of the logical flaws in that movie had to do with things that will not concern us, as the asteroid is so far out. Now, as I said, drilling should be an option, and I have been working on a series of explosives we could plants at key points that will break it up into many smaller pieces and disperse them so they pose no threat. But moving it," he tapped some controls for the display, and showed a close up of the asteroid, and glanced over at Push, "is an idea worth exploring. Unfortunately, I am not sure even we have the power to do so -- it's mass and speed are such that an immense force would be required to divert it either to a direct course into the Sun, or onto a course that would carry it sufficiently far from us."

"Lab-Friends, I have a hypothesis," Protectron's flat voice came over their communicators. "If the crew of the Skyhook-3 was working with samples, live or not, of Legion, it is probable they also carried some sort of prophylactic suitable for use against it should theere be a containment failure, such as the immunoboosting agent devised by Daedalus, Doctor Atom, and Mastermind during the initial outbreak. Samples of this cure may have been taken along with the samples Commander Harrison's agents already removed. Contact with the recovery team should be established, as well as contact with the Atoms and the Freedom League."

It was not long before Viktor stirred. Though he had ultimately agreed to do it, he was still terrified at just what had happened, taking solace solely in the fact that it could have gone so much worse. Letting his Other side out in short bursts was something he routinely did, so the experience had not been wholly alien, but he had never let it out this fully, or for this long. Suddenly he sat bolt upright, looked frantically around the room, and practically leaped to Mona's side. "Oh, Mona, are you okay? I am so sorry that I -- that my Other -- said all those terrible, terrible things!"

"Acknowledged, Friend-Dragonfly," the strange robot replied flatly. "Investigation of exterior 93% complete; will proceed to interior via hatchway Alpha-5 once external scan complete." Soon enough, Protectron moved within, the greenish-yellow light form its optics casting eerie shadows in the sunken satellite. Moving on to the next container, it scanned the binary cataloging label, as it had the first one. Had it been running its full emotional subroutines, Protectron would have been seized up with dread. "ALERT!", Protectron's flat voice broadcast out to all Lab Team communicators. "Skyhook-3 contained samples of both Grue and LV-13, Legion the Mind Virus. Extreme caution must be exercised."

Dead Head's initiative (1d20+2=21) Mutt's initiative (1d20+2=12)

"Acknowledged," Protectron replied flatly to Sharl as he took off to assist Miss Americana. Unaware of the further chaos above, Protectron continued jetting around the crashed satellite, scanning and cataloging all damage.

The Doktor gave an "eh, whaddayagonnado?" shrug. "Yes, some tailoring of responses is needed for, well, any situation," Archeville replied in a more jaunty tone, taking advantage of Erik's shift to go all-out on attack (and still falling short of being able to breach his defense). "Fortunately for me, that is something I do know how to do, and why I am -- compared to most other super-intellects, at least -- seen as a charming sophisticate, and not a total dweeb." "Speaking of affection... do you see where Billy and Lynn's relation has had any impact on their heroing work? You always hear the adage 'never date your co-workers,' but the work we do and the living situation you all are, well, quite different from most workplaces." Archeville had eased up on the attacks, instead sending several testing probes Erik's way.

"No indication of breach from this angle," Protectron's flat voice announced across the radio. Minimal damage, consistent with re-entry and crash. Numerous open hatches and compartments detected. A large fish darted by Protectron, attracted to the greenish-yellow glow of its optics, momentarily distracting the strange robot from the task at hand. "Shall I complete external scans first, or shall I enter the satellite from one of these hatches?"

"He was not," Archeville replied flatly, struggling to parry the blow. "It is a problem I myself faced for a very long time," he went on, resuming the offensive. "My own mind works so fast, goes in so many directions at once, it is sometimes... difficult to talk to others, to properly convey what I am thinking about. It is one reason the relationship between Mona and I has worked so much better than all the ones I have had previously: she can actually keep up with my trains of thought, which is, frankly, refreshing." "I am sure it is a issue with which you," he again punctuated the word with what first seemed to be a thrust, but changed midway to a swipe, "are not unfamiliar. A quick wit like yours surely finds some frustration when dealing with those who are less mentally and socially adroit, no?"

Archeville chuckled, "sorry, sorry; I have been putting the gift Erik gave me for Christmas to good use, spending a lot of time in the kitchen. Something with which Mona is quite pleased!" he added, winking. Then his eyes went wide, "say, after we are done with this, why not make a big pot of chili?! The rest of the gang would love it!" Archeville selected something decidedly atypical: a speargun. "Other good places to go? Let me see... well, there are several islands in the Mediterranean sea, many suitable for vacationing. Switzerland is fine, too. And Germany, of course," he aded with another wink before firing the speargun at the targets.

"Heh, the 'class clown' bit was definitely not something I had expected when creating him," he said as he took a slightly more offensive stance, "but there is much about him that came about on its own -- er, on his own, I suppose I should say -- after I laid out the foundation." "I figured if anyone could tell if he as having difficulties, it would be you," he continued, punctuating the last word with a thrust, "as you are the one he seems to interact with the most. He always did favor films from the 20s, 30s and 40s, and you do have an Errol Flynn vibe to you."

The strange robot did not show it, but it was almost as fascinated with the surroundings as Sharl was. It was in fact Sharl's words that disrupted it from its reverie of cataloging. "There is a panoply of organic life here. I should like to return here when this mission is over to catalog more of its lifeforms," it said flatly. The skiff carried the two out to the lake with little problem. Protectron's dense body weighed about twice as much as a human of comparable height and build, so the skiff was in no danger of sinking, especially since Sharl's mass was negligible. Once at the appropriate location, the robot took up the small communicator it was to use -- its repair systems had still not repaired its internal comms -- then rolled out of the skiff and sank to the lake bed floor.

"I know you can run along walls, and the surface of liquids," he said as he ran two fingers up the wall beside him, then stopped halfway up the wall, "but have you tried altering friction while still so as to stand on a wall, or the ceiling?" He removed his fingers from the wall, and waved them around like conductor's baton (not like a magic wand. Not at all), "or tried to manipulate the friction of something unconnected to you? Not just making other go faster or slower, but moving things, like telekinesis?" When Eli got up for a bottle of water, Archeville held out a hand, indicating he wanted one, too. "I have a theory on that, too, which goes along with the telekinesis idea. Friction is not a fundamental force, but occurs because of the electromagnetic forces between charged particles which make up the surfaces in contact. Rubbing dissimilar materials against one another -- such as an amber rod with a bit of wool, or glass with silk -- can cause a build-up of electrostatic charge, as the material with weakly bound electrons lose them to the materials with sparsely filled outer electron shells. In clouds, friction among the dust particles, ice crystals, and water droplets are part of how lightning is formed, so... your friction powers themselves may be what is generating the electricity. Should be able to do some magnetic tricks, too!"

Unless there's some ward barring his way, Mutt will go invisible (well, more than that, completely Concealed) & Incorporeal, and head into the villain's lair.

Since his change, Jay Xavier normally worked at 100x normal speed -- but so did the mind of Viktor Archeville. He did catch Jubatus's glare, but his own face retained its smile. Dr. Rao, meanwhile, was running over a half dozen treatment options for her patient. She was nowhere in Archeville's league when it came to genetics -- much less the dozens of other disciplines he'd mastered -- but she was far from a slouch. Archeville nodded along with most of what she was tossing out, though a few times he shook his head and pointed out something from the scans and records (or informing her of something she was simply unaware of) that refuted her. "In most situations, that course of treatment would be recommended, yes, but recall the latest reports from ASTRO Labs, the work done on reversing the changes wrought on the bioweapons from the last Grue invasion." He said nothing more, merely nodded grimly, as did Dr. Rao.

Dead Head barely batted an eye at the guy in the Ogham-marked hoodie. Would it've killed ya t'introduce yerself t'us? Eh, kids t'day.... When the tiny brunette turned into a shadow of herself, that drew a response. "Oooh..." Wonder how she does that? 't'ain't shadow-magic, least no kind I's familiar with. The revenant knelt beside the great black mastiff beside him. "Ya wanna go in, boy?" "Ruff!" "Nah, nah, it'll be easy for ya!" Dead Head looked up to Nick, who did know what the dog could do, then to the others and explained. "Mutt here's a spirit-dog, can go as invisible & intangible as a ghost. Might be able to hear or sniff out things neither'a you can."

Protectron's status, legal and otherwise, precluded it from signing the deal, but it read over all the paperwork nonetheless, scanning the pages and filing them away in its frighteningly advanced computer mind. When Commander Harrison shook the robot's hand, she found the metal predictably cold, yet the grip itself was surprisingly gentle. "I thank you for this opportunity to help, Commander," it said flatly, "and shall endeavor to function at optimal efficiency throughout the task."

I've heard the Vibora Bay section is by far the best part of the game. By contrast, the Lemuria sections are supposedly the worst.

Shamble on!

Archeville was seated with the other groomsmen, and had been going over and over the toast he was to give. The Doktor turned and waved at the happy couple, then patted the left side of his chest with his right hand. In response the the prearranged signal, the couple nodded, indicating they were ready to begin. He stood and tapped the side of his champagne glass with his knife, gently drawing everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, I-" He paused, reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out what looked to be a standard bluetooth headset. But standard bluetooth headsets wouldn't patch into the sound system that was set up, allowing his words to be clearly heard by the reception's many, many guests. "Ladies and gentlemen -- ah, that is better -- I must beg your indulgence for but a moment, as I fulfill the very honored tradition of giving a toast to the happy couple," he said with a beaming smile. He walked towards the couple, and stood behind them both, leaning over slightly to clap hands to their shoulders. "Derrick's work at the Star Island Space Control Center has allowed him to see much of space, the stars, the wonders... out there! Stesha's work at Flowers by Design, her work with blooms and blossoms and the green things of the Earth, give her a more... grounded view. Separately, they have each seen part of Creation -- together, they shall see all of it." "And now," Archeville straightened up, "something a bit more traditional, from my homeland. Centuries ago, in old Nuernberg, the nobel mistress Kunigunde fell in love with a young and ambitious goldsmith. Although Kunigunde's wealthy father, a powerful nobleman, did not approve of this pair, it was clear that she only wanted the goldsmith to be her husband, as she refused many titled and rich suitors who asked for her hand in marriage. Her father became so enraged that he had the young goldsmith thrown into the darkest dungeon, and not even his daughter's tears would change her father's mind. To her father's dismay, imprisoning the young man did not end his daughter's love for the goldsmith -- instead, he could only watch as his daughter grew paler and paler as a result of the separation from her true love." "So, the wealthy nobleman reluctantly made the following proposal: He told his daughter, 'If your goldsmith can make a chalice from which two people can drink at the same time without spilling one single drop, I will free him and you shall become his bride.' Of course he was certain nobody could perform such a task..." Archeville reached into the left interior pocket of his tuxedo's jacket, and pulled out a white box that was far too large to have been able to fit in there. "Inspired by love and with skillful hands, the young goldsmith created a masterpiece. He sculpted a girl with a smile as beautiful as his own true love's. Her skirt was hollowed to serve as a cup. Her raised arms held a bucket that swivels so that it could be filled and then swung towards a second drinker. The challenge was met. The goldsmith and the nobleman's daughter joined hands in marriage and with the bridal cup set forth a romantic and memorable tradition as charming today as it was originally hundreds of years ago." Archeville opened the box, revealing the eight inch tall bridal cup, made not of pewter as most replicas were, but of silver. Derrick and Stesha could see it was engraved with their names and the day's date. He held the bridal cup upside down so that the large skirt became a cup. He poured champagne into the hollow skirt end, then filled the smaller cup (which, due to the swivel, was also upright). As he filled, Derrick and Stesha stood, closely together and facing each other, with just enough space for the cup between them. The bride took the smaller cup in hand while the groom, trembling ever-so-slightly, held onto the larger cup. Hands now again free, Archeville threw them up in the air in joy. "Love, faithfulness and good luck await the couple who drink from this cup!"

As Commander Harrison explained the situation, Protectron stared straight ahead at the presentation, not moving a millimeter as she presented the case. The only sign the robot gave that it had not locked up was when the Commander mentioned bacteria. At that, it turned its head to quickly look at each person in the room. "Might I suggest," the robot said flatly, "that I lead the initial investigation into the crashed station?"

Dead Head gave an 'eh, whaddayagonnado?' shrug. The revenant (who smelled far better since last Lukos encountered him, an odd spiced rum scent overlaying the assorted aromas of death) had been looking over one of the gang members, tracing the air above the mark on his chest as he attempted to divine what it had been. "Let's see, if that squiggly bit went like this... and those were stars, not streaks... an' that one was s'posed t'be two lines, like that... yeah... yeah, that fits, what with her bein' a patron'a werewolves." "Yo, Nick!" He turned to face the heroic necromancer, turning his head more than should be possible for a normal human. "I think this is Marinette's veve here. But if it is, how'd these jokers get up wit' 'er? An' how many more ya think there are? An' what the heck're they up to?" Mutt, meanwhile, was busy sniffing around Lukos. Though bone dry, he smelled like a wet dog to the werewolf. Strangely, Mutt's scent did not convey any particulars to the breed of dog he was -- it was just "wet dog" smell.

Knowledge/Arcane check (1d20+5=16) Not bad, I'll keep it

Gonna try to work my way back into this, if that's okay.

Yes, spending an HP is a reaction.