Dr Archeville

Looks like a solid agent char. :approved:

No. The check is to see what you know, not what you can help someone else know.

"The Nutcracker!," he exclaimed, with all the excitement and exuberance of a kid on Christmas morning. "Christmas is only 62 days away, but imagine what a gift this could be to the city! Think of it -- you could provide the Gingerbread and Tin Soldiers. Fleur de Joie could provide the Christmas Tree, and make it grow when Clara shrinks to doll-size. I would be Herr Drosselmeyer, of course," he said with a deep bow. "You and Billy could be the mother and father... or would you rather be Clara? Hrm... do you think Erik would agree to be the Nutcracker? He does have a sword fight again the Rat King. Oh, who to cast as the Rat King? Hrm... maybe Wesley Knight... or Atlas! I know I could talk Rift into whipping up a good sound system, though we would need to determine where it would be..." "I am picturing a live show, perhaps in the park... ah, no, outside would be problematic, due to the cold, and what if there was inclement weather? Perhaps one of the television networks, maybe GBN."

"I prefer the Swiss ones myself," he said with a grin. "Our countrymen tend towards the... controversial." Archeville continued examining the laboratory, "no default form? If you fall asleep or are knocked unconscious while in another form, you still maintain that form? Interesting!" "Well, if this is a new form or you, and you do not even know how it will react.. hrrmm." He tapped his chin, then reached into his labcoat pocket and withdrew a sealed syringe, "if you are amenable to it, I can try to withdraw a sample and run some tests on it."

Archeville enjoyed the light chit-chat, but when Knight got to the point, his interest was fully grabbed. "Heh, oh, yes, I do remember that little adventure. Ah, I do not believe there were any strictly non-human elements in your blood sample, relative to all the others I had taken that day, but I do recall there being anomalies." "I would be more than happy to help you! You can schedule an appointment at your convenience, or I can pop over right now if this is an urgent matter." The Doktor began making a list of all the tests that might be relevant for Knight's queries, and for his own curiosity. "Was there anything in particular that brought about this sudden curiosity in your abilities?"

I'll poke Darksider to see if he's still in on this.

In addition to initiative checks, I need Notice checks and a Knowledge (Popular Culture) check; if you have Well-Informed you may substitute a Gather Info check instead.

"Mrs. Kane," she replied, smiling. "Commissioner Kane, actually; I guess I'm not used to being seen in a dress-" Now that he had a chance to study her, "Ardenne" saw it was indeed Police Commissioner Barbara Kane. "Or attending events like this. But, tickets were free for the force, and Fred's always been a closeted opera buff, and after all the running around he did today, he more than earned a treat!" she chuckled. The lights dimmed, indicating the show was about to resume. "Ah, guess that's my cue to get back to my seat," she said while already halfway out. "Enjoy the show!" ACT III The Act opened with one of the most stirring, epic pieces of operatic music as a prelude, one known far and wide, not only for its association with Die Walküre but also for its appropriation into other works. It builds in successive layers of accompaniment until the curtain rises to reveal a mountain peak where four of the eight Valkyrie sisters of Brünnhilde have gathered in preparation for the transportation of fallen heroes to Valhalla. As they are joined by the other four, the familiar tune is carried by the orchestra, while, above it, the Valkyries greet each other and sing their battle-cry. [groove]23312832[/groove] "Hojotoho! Hojotoho! Heiaha! Heiaha!" "Hojotoho! Hojotoho! Heiaha!" "Heiaha! HeiahaaaAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" From the top of the top of the stage descended a ninth Valkyrie! But it was clear this was not part of the act -- not only did she have a decidedly deathly lack of color, she was flying out over the audience! "Come, my sisters!!! There are many brave souls we can claim this night! EIAAAHAHA!" It flew around the audience, then focused on one of the police officers near the front row. "Ah, a fine hero, this one! Come with me to Valhalla!" A spear materialized in her hand, which she flung with unerring precision at the officer. It exploded in a flash of fire when it hit, and he appeared to slump over, dead!

Supercape, did you get my PM re: your last post?

Honestly, I don't have much interest in running that side-plot. I'm just here to kill you :twisted:

"I know of about half of them," he replied, "though most only by reputation. I have actually met and talked face-to-face with... oh, about one-third of them, and that was mostly when I was getting ArcheTech up off the ground. Or Archestern up and running; I still have to file weekly reports with the UN to keep them happy." When Mindy approached, Archeville's jaw clenched, and he shook his head at her. He quickly turned back to Mona, "there is one couple here I know we should meet. She is on the Senate appropriations committee, and I would like to bend her ear towards some government research projects in the works. Her husband is an avid fan of the arts, having made donations to many galleries." He glanced back at the 'musician's' performance, and winced.

Blake's senses shifted. "Doctor!," he heard over a weak, faint beep. "His pulse!" "What? That's not... right, this kid may yet pull through! Keep at it, people!" Though one bleary eye -- the other was too swollen to open -- Blake found himself in a trauma center, being cared for by half a dozen medical staff. A sharp awareness of immense pain flooded into him, but he realized it was the pain of his badly battered -- but still alive -- human body. Blake would spend weeks in the hospital recovering, but he knew the most damaging, infectious, corrupt part, the pseudonatural taint of the Nameless Ones, was gone from him. When he was strong enough to try, he found he could no longer shift into his Kid Cthulhu form. He'd been given the rarest of things: a second chance. ~fin~

Reflection slid into Blake's mind. Failure. A light caught Blake's eye. At first, he thought it was a green star, twinkling in the gray sky, but it kept growing, bigger and bigger. A bolt of eldrich flame so huge it could wipe out a city, and it was headed straight for him. The tentacles released and withdrew, pulling back to wherever it was beyond his field of vision they originated from. Comprehension dawned. The forbidden texts he'd read indicated that the Nameless Ones do not speak as such, but communicate by telepathically projecting images directly into other minds; he was only able to get some words due to his unique link to them. The worms he'd seen were the mass of humanity, and the one he had dripped on was him, empowered by preternatural energy. A similarly enhanced worm killed it, and then he was made to incinerate the worm-beasts remains... ... just as Blake himself has been empowered by preternatural energy, killed (apparently by another preternaturally-enhanced human)... and now a bolt of eldrich flame was coming for him! The eldrich star-bolt slammed into him, replacing his cold numbness with searing pain! He felt his wings burn off, his facial tentacles wither away, his rubbery flesh boiling off. Now the preternatural part of him was gone, leaving Blake Salazar... and he began to burn, too.

Dead Head cocked his head at Gabriel's raised eyebrow, "heh." "Far as I can tell, it's jes' normal folks," he replied. "Scummy, vile folks, but normal ones all the same. Unless, he turned slightly and looked to a spot slightly to the left of Gabriel, "ya found somethin' different." "Nope," a voice growled from the spot. "Heh, c'mon out, boy, an' show yerself to the nice feller." A large dog, part mastiff and part... something, faded into view. Its droopy jowls lifted in a warm smile, and its eyes glowed a cheery red. "So, still jes' them three fellers we seen in the van?" "Yes, and also a lady at a desk, and two ladies in chairs, and a lady and a man hugging on a table in the back." Dead Head smirked again, "... heh." He turned back to Gabriel, "looks like there might be some bystanders inside, potential clients, or jes' here fer a pedicure an'... 'massage'. Think it might be best if you go in tha front, I sneak 'round back."

Archeville shook his head, "even a small group needs to be reported. The most malignant of tumors can arise from but one cancerous cell. And even if they were just here to support Ragnarok in whatever his mission was, well, then there is still the fact Ragnarok is in Freedom City!" "An speaking of Ragnarok," he continued as he approached the pillar of monitors in the center of his laboratory, which showed a variety of news feeds both local and international, "even if the destruction of the SHADOW cell base killed him, you can be sure their agents would go in and try to retrieve his body. And that is the best case scenario; worst case is, he is still alive down there, and pissed." He held up a hand to the two, and addressed the pillar. "Communications, establish four-way video conference. Subjects: Self, AEGIS Iceberg, Freedom Hall, Scarabs Pyramid Lair." Four of the screens changed, one showing him standings (and the lower halves of John and Vivian), the other three static. He tuned back to face the two, "I do not know if you wish to be here for the conference call; it will take at least a few seconds for it all to get connected should you wish to... become more anonymous."

That sounds fine, yes. Also, since my work's done, I'm handing this back over to Quinn.

No, because no one on Earth (Prime) would use such an unlikely and unfeasible thing as a cover. A ruse only works if there are people who'd believe/buy into it long enough for the mastermind to carry out their true plan, but that's not what would happen with an Undead Rights Movement in FC. The guy pulling it may as well be saying "Look at my left hand! Look at it! What? My right hand? No, look at my left hand! Isn't it huge?!"

Actually, in the AGENTS OF FREEDOM book, it does mention that Ragnarok was talked back into re-joining SHADOW, and serves on the Penumbra (SHADOW's inner council). Getting them to follow him is plausible, since he has half their DNA (Ragnarok is Wilhelm Kantor's son, and all of SHADOW's masked troops are clones of Wilhelm Kantor, though the public doesn't know Ragnarok's heritage and believes the clones are made from a different Nazi).

Archeville cradled the GrimManikin in his arms, and smiled at it. "A solid plan," he said approvingly, finally tearing his eyes from the figure, "and I am very pleased to hear you are continuing your studies. And if there is anything I can do to help, please, let me know!" He slowly, steadily walked over to Lynn and handed the Manikin off. "Heh, she has your eyes." His face suddenly lit up. "Lynn, I think I may have a very special project for you, one that you will love." He was getting more excited as he spoke, though he did try to not get too loud, for the "baby's" sake. "Remember what I said last month, when we were all watching The Incredibles? Productions made by Metahumans, using their unique abilities to entertain in noel ways?"

Archeville listened intently to Vivian's words, nodding here and there. "What was it he asked you? What information was he seeking?" He flashed a quick smile at John, but quickly reverted to a dour (and slightly haunted) look. "As I said before Vivian awoke, I plan to call AEGIS, Scarab, probably the rest of the Freedom League. If there is an active SHADOW cell in Freedom City, and if Ragnarok is working with them, this is a huge threat. You are, of course, welcome to rest up here and recuperate as long as you wish."

The big problem with an Undead Rights movement is that, well, this isn't a setting made by White Wolf; the focus is on superhumans, no undead. Most of the undead present in the setting are mindless zombies and skeletons animated by necromancers. For most of the free-willed, intelligent undead, their concerns for humans is in how many of us they can eat. The few who are playing long, political- & social-manipulation games are going to have fake IDs set up so they can pose as living beings with voting rights and the ability to hold a bank account, and wouldn't want anyone knowing they're anything other than what they say the are.

"I believe if he and I met over a beer, then -- at best -- only one of us would be walking away." Archeville examined an assortment of items in Miss Americana's laboratory, "medical records, even fragmentary, would be helpful, though in your condition I suppose it would be difficult to retrieve them. You say you were four when they experimented on you? Ah, that would put you in your late 60s, early 70s. Innnteresting." "But, you are in luck," the Doktor exclaimed, and clapped his hands enthusiastically, "as there are few scientists out there who are better experienced with this sort of thing then me! It is, in fact, my life's work." "Now, let me see...." He tapped one foot, and his chin with his right index finger, "I would need some in-depth scans to see just what we are dealing with her, but it appears that such scans are what got you into this predicament in the first place. Tell me, has a part of you ever... dribbled off? When you are in this liquid state, do you remain one cohesive mass, or can you split and recombine? If I could remove a tiny bit of you, and put it under a few scanners, that would be of tremendous help, and should pose no further risk to you."

Archeville grinned, "thank goodness! Right, help prop him up so I can give him a second dose." He went back to the work station, and moment later came back with a small glass flask filled with a purplish liquid. "Here, drink this, it should help." An hour or so later, Powerhouse was lying comfortably on a hospital bed in ArcheTech. He had mostly reverted back to his old self; his bones were back to normal, and about half the excess hair had fallen out. Archeville was at the foot of the bed, reviewing a chart. "No trace of any infection, and the symptoms are reverting at a good pace. You should be back to yourself in another hour or so." "And now that you are calmer," he flipped the chart closed, "could you tell me, again, just what happened?"

When Blake looked down at himself, he saw he was still in his Cthulhu form, and had all the injuries he'd sustained. He could see and smell his charred flesh, the large hole the unknown assailant had punched into him, pones jutting out at unhealthy angles. And yet, he felt no pain. He also felt no sense of up or down, or heat or cold. Just numbness. But the numbness left and pain flooded in as tentacles -- so long he could not see where they originates from! -- sprang at him and lashed around his ankles, wrists, and neck! Meat-Thing. Blake did not hear the words so much as the memory of having heard them slid into his mind. Attend. The void before him folded in on itself, separating into ground and sky, though all still the same indistinct gray. Rain fell on the ground, and out of the mud slithered blind worms. The tentacles moved Blake so the ran fell on him, and as it dripped off him and to the ground, one of the worms changed, growing and turning a sickly green. It turned its blind, tri-jawed head to the sky, and roared. It thrashed about, crushing other worms under its mighty coils, making blasphemous patterns in the mud as it danced about... until another worm stood up to it. As it charged forward, it took on the same sickly green coloration, while the worm-beat sat, staring. Rather than grow to gigantic size, the charging worm's head morphed and tapered into a metallic needle, which it rammed into the giant worm-beast! The beast fell, dead. Blake felt a tingle in his hands, the same he felt when he prepared his eldritch fire. He felt the green flame be pulled out into his palm, then the tentacle binding that wrist pulled, flicking his wrist and sending the green flame down, incinerating the worm-beast.

I think there may have been some miscommunication re: my rough plan for the events of this thread. My basic idea was as follows: Arrowhawk brings Valkyrie/Vivian to Archeville for healing after the SHADOW mission. She gets patched up, he realizes who she really is. Later, Viv gets a message from on high, telling her that she's to be tested, to see if she's still worthy of her position given the un-Aesir-ish things she's done in the past. (Since Qote told me Valk doesn't go on patrol, Viv mostly just waits for her higher-ups/the Orb of Fate to tell her when and where to go Valkyrie.) Valk goes, meets up with Chevalier, who's in the process of putting down some feral vamps. They finish up, then he turns on her, epic battle ensues. Afterlife, Odin & Co. tell Viv she failed in her test, failed in her mission, and will not be allowed into Valhalla. Before going off to... wherever it is she goes, Viv does manage to send a brief (and possibly cryptic) message to 'Hawk.