Dr Archeville

"It would please me to aid in tour duties, Friends," the robot said flatly, "particularly if doing so would allow Friend Dragonfly a return to more familiar and comfortable environs such as her personal workspace. Perhaps Lab-Friends can show Sharl their personal workspaces first, and then I can take him around the public and common areas to which I am restricted?"

The robot did a barrel turn to look up at the Pitchoo. The robot waved with both arms at the green egg-craft, and called to it in a flat electronic voice, "Greetings, Geckoman! Are you here to investigate the warehouse?" "Attention Geckoman," it suddenly called out, "activity of a criminal nature may be occurring in the warehouse below. Will you assist me in investigating?" The golden robot repeated its invitation for crimefighting to the flying cyborg.

Or you could just use the Invention rules as written, and spend a few (er, few dozen) rounds jury-rigging something (spending an HP to do so) with stuff in the area (MacGyver!) once she learns the Power Corps is there (and hope she finishes before they spot her).

"I am a superhero," it said firmly. "However, specifics of modus operandi still to be determined."

Overhead flew Protectron, Freedom's newest and most gold-plated hero (well, aside from that other gold-plated hero). He was not a fast flier -- many cars could reach his top speeds, and sports cars would blow past it -- but what he lacked in speed he made up for in tenacity. As it turned, Protectron passed over the warehouse the Power Corps were in, and its interest was snatched. Protectron altered course again, and headed for the warehouse.

"I am both sentient and sapient," the robot replied flatly, "and have, as far as my incomplete logs and knowledgebases indicate, always been as such since coming online 34 days ago. I am not a transferred organic consciousness, as is Doctor Atom. Have you encountered him? I anticipate you and he would have much to discuss." It shifted slightly, so it could address both Miss Americana and Sharl. "If there is any way I can be of assistance in Sharl's education, please inform me. I believe he and I could aid each other in our respective, as Friend-Gossamer would say, 'quests for knowledge.'"

"Have you encountered many other 'synthezoids' on the Internet, Sharl?," the robot asked. "Have you found places where they are common? Or are there 'synthezoids' among your digital communities? I have spent many hundreds of hours accessing the Internet, for observation and intelligence-gathering purposes, and have only encountered stories of four machinekind lifeforms; of those, three were a threat to organic life, and the fourth inactive for many years." Being connected to the internet was how Protectron had spent much of its time while in the Lab, when not helping out with routine chores. It had learned many things about the world, including the presence of other entities like it. It was saddened, however, to learn that many of them -- Talos, Keres, Argo the Ultimate Android, and the Furies -- had either started out as or had become anti-organic villains, and that the only apparent pro-organic, heroic one, Galatea, had sacrificed herself to stop Talos after she unwittingly restored him. Galatea's sacrifice spurred Protectron on to do more for organickind, thought it was still unsure how.

"Greetings, Friend Americana, Friend Dragonfly, Friend Ironclad," the strange robot from Lincoln announced as it entered, moments the Dragonfly and Ironclad had arrived. It came bearing two baskets, one large and one small, filled with fruits, power bars, and small bottles of water. He looked at the strange visitor. When Sharl announced what he was and his name, the android's eyes focused in. But the conversations continued to flow, and before it could begin any investigations, some of Protectron's questions were answered. "Hello, Sharl," the robot said flatly to the newcomer. "I am Protectron. Are you here to aid and preserve organic life?" The strange golden robot turned just enough to look at Dragonfly, and extended the arm holding the smaller food-gift basket to her.

Odin exhaled sharply (sigh? Never!), and looked down upon the fallen heroine. "Childe, thou hast done much for the cause of Good by fighting Evil, but know also that thou also hast done much to curry Hel's favor. Acts of cowardice and deceit which surely would land thee in Nifleheim's icy clutch... but your last act on Midgard, and your first acts here, show that a noble spirit still dwell within thee. However... these nobler acts do not fully absolve thee of thine past transgressions, so while it is not Hel that shall receive thee, neither shall it be Valhalla." The Valkyries -- the true ones --- turned and walked off into the cloudy mists. Vivian moved to speak, but the All-Father held up a hand, "instead, thou shalt remain here, 'twixt the Gate of Valhalla and the Bifrost Bridge connecting Asgard and Midgard. Thou shalt aid Heimdall in guarding this juncture, looking for threats to us, as well as thine namesake's task of seeking noble heroes of Midgard to be called to the Hall of the Slain. Thou shalt seek them only; thou shalt not venture to Midgard to gather the slain, as that task is reserved for mine true daughters." Odin stroked his beard, "in time, thou may earnest entry to the Hall, but for now, it is barred to thee." Arrowhawk's reaction to Vivian's death was predictably intense, and he sought (among others) Doktor Archeville for answers. Believing that it may have been Ragnarok that came and finished her off, they explored the SHADOW facility he and Vivian had uncovered. They found a concealed room the AEGIS snoops had missed, containing a secured computer which held files on both broad SHADOW activities and Ragnarok's own plans. It showed he was headed to Europe, and that's where Arrowhawk went. Exactly as Archeville's Other Self intended. ~fin~

The disembodied head chuckled; it echoed eerily. [bg=#000000]"I'm pretty sure my medical records was tossed years ago. 'Member when I told ya how I died? What I left out was when -- New Year's Eve, 2000."[/bg] His rictus grin widened a bit, [bg=#000000]"Yup -- Y2K!"[/bg] [bg=#000000]"Which means I been dead -- legally dead, at least -- fer over a decade. Dunno how long they keep the records'a dead folks. 'Course...,"[/bg] the headless body shrugged, [bg=#000000]"even if hospitals is s'posed t'keep 'em indefinitely, my local hospital was so small an' ill-kept -- friend'a mine, Travis, he went huntin' with his poppa once, an' when they was field dressin' the deer, the knife slipped an' he cut his hand real bad. He went an' got it stitched up at th' local hospital.... and the stitches rusted! Ha! Can ya believe that?! 's'true! So, ah, yeah, if they still got my files, they's probably in a rusted file cabinet in a dank basement."[/bg] [bg=#000000]"Buuut...,"[/bg] he drawled, [bg=#000000]"ya might be able ta contact the hospital where I got my scans at -- they's actually one'a the top ones in the country! -- and find some records there. It's Duke hospital, down in Durham."[/bg] Yes, they would definitely have nice, digitized systems for her to play in. [bg=#000000]"As fer Arke-Tech,"[/bg] he passed his head back and forth between his hands, [bg=#000000]"sure, I'm game!"[/bg] ~fin~

"Whoa!" The Revenant's eyes went wide, though few could see them under his many layers of clothing. "These is some nasty buggers here!" "I have something!," Mutt exclaimed, and pointed, "something... that way!" "Right, let's git a move on! Push, can ya use them powers'a yers t'carry this great beastie? Ironclad," he looked up to the armored heroine, then to the prone Cannonade, "an... whoever ya are... ya wanna go find what sent these nasty critters?" Mutt moved down to Dead Head, and the zombie climbed atop the flying spirit-Mastiff. "Let's go!"

It's a Ghost indeed! Muse is up! She's outside the dome! She sees nutzing! She hears... nutzing different!

"NOOOOOO!!!!!," the Ghost-Valkyrie shrieked, a blood-curdling sound that echoed painfully off the walls of the sonic dome. She fell to the ground, breathing heavily, fading from sight. "I am... undone! I return... to glorious Valhalla... to great Odin! But you... you noble warriors... shall all... all of you... fall... to meeeeEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" Eddie almost bought it... until he realized those were exactly the same lines she'd used in her movie, Die, Valkyrie! And he knew she could fade from sight at will, so she was probably still around! In fact... yes! He could just barely make out an eerie rustling sound from the air where Silver Scream had been, moving around the dome. As far as Muse, Rift and Slick know, nothing inside the dome has changed.

Dead Head has Super-Senses 4 (Darkvision 2 [Drawback], Magic Awareness [Mental], Mental Awareness [Mental]) [3PP] Mutt has Super-Senses 5 (darkvision, scent, tracking [olfactory; Extra: Extended; PFs: Dimensional 3], ultra-hearing)

Dead Head looked back and forth between Push and the great demon-dog. "... hunh. I had no idea ya could do that." Guess there's more ta him than jes' smashin'. He shrugged, and turned to Cannonade and Mutt. "'mere, boy, I needja ta sniff somethn' out." "Good-bye, Helmet-Man!," the Mastiff cheerfully said as it ran off. Ran off on the air, so it was hovering over the demon-dog-thing, sniffing all around. "Git the scent, boy, track down where these thins came from!," the Revenant cheered. But he did not stand idly by: he also examined the creature, and though his sense for magic was not as great as it once was, he hoped he could pick up something.

Edit time: I have no idea what my tired brain was accessing last night, but re-reading my post, I have clearly made errors. It's only DC 17 Notice (auditory) to hear where she is (i.e., to beat her Stealth check), 22 to hear her well enough to accurately target her with an attack. So Eddie might be able to get those. Dome is opaque, and I'll say it blocks scent, too. HP for Slick. Even with distance penalties and a small penalty from the sonic dome, Muse still hears well enough to be able to accurately target Silver Scream.

They're not actually in Valhalla, they're right in front of it. Seems I accidentally omitted part of a sentence while editing it. Also, I added some lines to my last few posts to make Evil!Dok a bit more rant-y.

from Datalink's description in ULTIMATE POWER: If one wanted to have Machine Control as a separate power, rather than as an AP of Datalink (so that both Datalink and Machine Control could be used on the same device at the same time, or Datalink on one and Machine Control simultaneously on another), how should that be built? Move Object (Extra: Range [Perception]; Flaws: Limited [Objects only], Limited [only to operate machines]; PF: Precise)? (cost 1pp/rank, same as Datalink, +1pp for Precise) If so, would you ever need more than a rank or two in that power? I'd think not, except for cases where you try to operate a rusted or otherwise gummed-up machine, and you'd need to use some elbow grease to get things going.

"I am online, Friend Americana," a clear electronic voice came over the intercom. The mysterious robot had been clearing the kitchen (following an accident involving Supercape and a 'quantum foam'), and replied via the intercom panel set into the wall. "I am currently in the kitchen. Where would you like us to meet your 'special guest'?"

Index Dated Entries Semi-Compressed Timeline Miscellaneous Entries Allies & Enemies Personal HQ in The Lab Guidebook Entry HellQ People Protectron Knows Reputation (Link to separate thread) TV Tropes: Protectron

Archived due to Death via Self-Sacrifice.

Standard Action: HAM! By which I mean, Bluff to make Breakdown think he destroyed her, by... Free Action: Activate Concealment (Visual) Bluff, bluff, bluff, bluff the heroes! (1d20+12=24) Move Action: Tries to move into a more advantageous position. Stealth! (1d20=17) Beating the Bluff checks means you realize she's not dead. Also, if you can make a DC 37 Notice (auditory) check, you realize she's still there. If you can hit DC 42, you can pinpoint her (this round), as if your hearing was an accurate sense. IC post up soon!

:approved:

"Gods? Ha!" The fingertips of Cheavlier's gauntlets shimmered and morphed into wicked talons, "you claim to be a Valkyrie, yet you cannot fly! Allow me to remedy that, by giving you wings on which tAAAAAARGH!!!!!!" A massive bolt of lightning struck from the clear skies, slamming into Chevalier's back. Multiple systems were overloaded instantly, components melted and fused... and he fell, releasing the heroine as he went. "NOOOOO!" The metal shell threatened to become his coffin. "I will not be ended by some souped-up slattern! I defy you, and your 'gods'!" Arch-Evil worked at a furious pace to bring his armor's systems back online, rerouting around damaged circuits to at least get the flight system working again. That proved to require too much time, but there was a linked system that was serviceable. Chevalier winked out of the sky, and materialized a few inches above the water, redirecting the momentum of his fall out all around him so the fall was no worse than a simple jump into a lake. He looked up, and saw he had beaten his target's body down to the water's surface. He prepared to catch her, to pry "mjolnir" form her dead fingers and the "orb of fate" from off her broken neck. "Yeesss.... I am the Victor, Arch-Cavil! My will -- backed by Science! -- be done!" Arch-Evil's anticipation turned to fury as he saw Valkyie's form shimmer and shift. It was the body of Vivian Kriger, in plain clothing and with no mystical Norse items on her, that hit the water at terminal velocity. Chevalier cursed and raged, but not so much that he failed to notice the approaching superheroes. Elsewhere. Nowhere. Everywhere. Vivian Kriger knew light once more, the golden lights of Valhalla, shining from behind those coming towards her. Before her stood Odin, All-Father, King of the Aesir! Flanking him were his eight daughters, the true Valkyries, stern and grim choosers of the slain. Odin himself bore a weary look, but stood firm as any God-King (or Norseman) should. "Hello, Childe!," Odin's voice boomed. "You have done... adequately in your final test, and we have come to usher your spirit to its destination!"

"I-" it began. "am able to fly, though I do not know how my speeds would compare to yours or to the common vehicles of this area." The odd robot held its arms out, palms-down. The entire surface rippled as flight surfaces popped, unfolded, and re-folded. Thrusters at the feet began to fire, as did blasts from the hands. Soon it was hovering, in a mostly stable manner. It looked down at the others, "which way?"