Dr Archeville

Breakdown, Rift, Supercape, and one of Faust's chars, right?

Where Push first gets into Freedom City, and meets one of its more unusual heroes: Dead Head!

Date: November 12th, 2010 (Friday). Evening. Temp in the upper 30s. Clear skies, clam winds. Waxing crescent moon (~40% visible) Gabriel Quinn hadn't been in Freedom City for long, but he liked what he saw so far. The climate wasn't that different from Gear City, and the skies were cleaner to boot. Yeah, there were flamboyant supervillains running around, but there were also a ton of equally flamboyant superheroes -- how cool was that? And the fish taco he'd gotten from this street vendor was delicious! But he was not in the Waterfront for food or frivolity: he was following a lead. Word was a Daniel Webster a warehouse here, and where that name showed up, Mr. Scratch was rarely far behind. But his search was interrupted by a crackle of static and message hissed across the police scanner he had on him: a woman had been assaulted as she exited Infinity, the popular smoked glass-and-chrome nightclub not far from where Gabe was. Hero time! Ducking into a conveniently nearby alley to change, Push then rocketed off, scanning the streets for anything mugger-y-ish. In moments he found something -- three rather burly men, sprawled out on the street, and a fourth one, being conked on the head with a shovel wielded by... a zombie?!

When he stepped out of the elevator, no alarms sounded, no nets fell upon his head Instead, he saw an ordinary clean hallway, with numerous twists and turns. As he wondered how on Earth he'd find his way to his destination, he noticed a glowing arrow on the wall across from him, and on the floor. If he went the direction they pointed, more arrows would appears, forming a path for him, which lead him to an examination room not that different from those found in any other doctor's office. And Doktor Archeville was there waiting for him. "Hello, Mister... Kid!" he said warmly, extending his hand. "I must say I was a bit surprised that you had called -- I thought after our last encounter, you and Phantom and her family had written me off. How have you been? Have you heard from them?"

A young and very perky blonde woman at the reception desk waved him over. "Hello, Kid Kathoo... Katool... er..." The receptionist's voice was as perky as her appearance, but she appeared to have some difficulty pronouncing his blasphemous name. Finally she simply shrugged, "Hello, Kid C! Doktor Archeville is expecting you, in an examination room on the seventh floor. Here," she continued, holding out a VISITORS ID badge attached to a blue lanyard, "you'll need this to get around." Blake may have briefly wondered which had a higher percentage of plastic, the ID badge or the receptionist's chest. "There's an elevator right down that hallway," she went on, pointing to the largest of the hallways behind her. "Have a super day!" Elsewhere, on another floor, Doktor Archeville was going over some test results from one of ArcheTech's latest experiments: studying a new species of highly toxic algae found in oceanic waters of the Gulf of Alaska. "The primary task, for now at least, is to find out how this harmful algal bloom got there in the first place, and how it grew so quickly. Someone should have noted an HAB of this size by now. Perhaps one of the earlier experiments in the area to combat global warming by stimulating algal growth with iron-rich fertilizers, in order to absorb more CO2 into the ocean? We also need to see how much it has infiltrated the food chain, if any fisheries will need to be shut dow-" A silent alarm from reception alerted him of the arrival of the young hero. "Ladies, gentlemen, please excuse me," he said with a short bow before leaving, "I have been reminded of another appointment. Doctor Bargu, you will be in charge of these operations."

Alright, I see you edited in the answers to my questions in your char sheet, and it looks alright. :approved:

"Very vell, a change in topic!," Archeville exclaimed, slapping the table with enthusiasm. "We haff discussed veapons, ve haff discussed defenses. Now let us turn to medical technologies, such as dose used in de aftermath of a metahuman brawl, both on the direct combatants und any bystanders injured along de vay. Frau Americana, Herr Vespin, you both are experts in prostheses und mobility restoration devices -- do you haff anyding you vould care to share? Dings which might could be, in time, made available to de public? Does anyvon else haff any other medical-related technologies sey are vorking on?"

Fluff stuff Where is Gear City? What kind of place is it? A comic book counterpart of Detroit (like how Gotham and Metropolis are kinda-sorta counterparts of New York)? What was his degree in? You mention that he knew "think Professor Fate at PL 15" doesn't really work as a description for Prof. Wyrd, as I have no idea who Prof. Fate is. Do you plan on writing him up as an NPC? And speaking of NPCs, the other big one, Mr. Scratch. Is he some sort of demon? An evil sorcerer? Does Gabe even know? So Scratch killed a museum full of people, animated them, sent them after Gabe, Gabe blasted them, but when the cops showed and saw the dead folks they assumed Gabe had killed them all? And then he shot at cops as he ran? Why aren't the feds after him? Why would he got to Freedom City, home of the world's biggest collection of superheroes? Did he change his costume, or is he wearing the same costume as he did during his days in Gear City? Why didn't he try and tell the cops what happened? Why did he run (and shoot them) when they showed up and assumed the worst? (Why did they assume the worst? This setting, unlike DC and Marvel, is one where the General Public usually doesn't fear & hate their heroes and expect them to become murdering psychos.) Crunch stuff Adds up I'm not sure why you're listing 8pp next to his Initiative; that should be removed. Everything else looks fine. Adds up. Adds up, but why so much Concentration? And why no Knowledge (Technology) for automobile work? Everyone gets Diehard for free here, you don't even need to list it. So that's 1pp freed! For someone with a Complication related to collateral damage, I wouldn't tihnk he'd have Precise Shot. Please list the game stats for the Smoke Bomb and Sleep gas bomb. Other than that, looks good. 3 + 10 + 19 + 27 = 59PP, not 58. Fortunately, you have 1 pp free form the Diehard feat you don't need to buy Other than that, looks good... but why does he use a Warhammer? His Blasts are better in every way.

:approved:

It would probably be best if you stuck with just one name for them. Do that, and I think he'll be ready for a first approval.

"Do you think any of them would be amenable to coming in for some tests?," he asked as he flew over and gathered metal samples. "If all your abilities are signs of your fae ancestry -- if they are all inherent to you, and the Winter Queen merely activated latent parts of you, rather than give you all-new traits -- then a full genetic map of your family line would be an enormous help to my research!" "Oh, before we begin the metal tests, one thing I would like to see first." He flew off to the chemistry lab section, and brought back a glass of water from one of the sinks. "I would like to scan you while you drink something that is not of your own creation." After that, he slowly brought other small samples of metals to her: nickel, cobalt, gadolinium, and neodymium. All to no effect. "... hunh. Well, that seem to throw the electromagnetic energy hypothesis out the window."

Dead Head chuckled, "If'n I had a nickel fer ev'ry time a girl asked me t'strip down... I'd have half a dime." He stripped and laid on the table. Modesty was clearly not a concern. But as he lay there, he quieted. "Been a while since I been in one'a these, but I cain't count th' number'a times I been in one. When I was younger, see, I had lots'a migraines. Lots of 'em. Well, not migraines, 'xactly, but that was th' best diagnosis th' docs could come up with. Started when I was little, had 'em off an' on fer years, on up till college." The MRI showed nothing. No activity, not even a flicker. All signs indicated nothing more than a corpse was in the machine.

Welcome to FC PbP! First bit of advice: Avoid odd-numbered attributes. The only time they'd ever be of us is certain Boosts or Drains, which really aren't that common to begin with. 70 mph running would be Speed 2, actually. Speed 2 is 25 mph, but running all out (i.e., doing nothing in a round but running as fast as you can) quadruples that, to 100 mph. Super-Senses look fine. "'lives' x6 faster" would be Time Control 2 (x5) or 3 (x10). Permanent wouldn't be a Flaw, since Time Control (and Super-Seed) are Sustained, and going from Sustained to Permanent is a +0 change. Personal only would be a valid flaw for Time Control, turning it into Super-Speed (i.e., removing the Affects Others and Ranged extra from Time Control). I'm assuming he'd have some Extra on his other Time Control that'd buy off the Permanent flaw on his other Time Control so he'd be able to interact at normal speed. Instead of Environmental Control, why not a low level Gravity Control?

It was good that Archeville only needed part of his attention for the fireworks work, because a good part was focused on Victory's visible cybernetics (now that his clothes were out of the way) and the armor that soon exploded out of him. "Volk and her people did some fine work there, Lieutenant." He smiled at Fulcrum's arrangement, and gave her a thumbs-up at her formulations. "I keep telling you you are more than just another pretty face, liebchen." Moments later, Victory was prepped and ready to go spread fireworks through the night sky.

"WHEEEEEEE!" Apparently he really enjoyed flying. Or being carried by a stunningly attractive woman. Probably both. While flying, his face peeled back and flopped at the back of his head like a hoodie, but he quickly pulled it back down. The sight of her lab was equally impressive to the revenant, who let out a low whistle when he first entered. "This here's a nice set-up! How long it take t'get it all set up? D'ya live her, too?" "Nah, don't need food no more, an' it'd jes' sit in my stomach if'n I tried t'eat, so I'd have ta find some place t'dump it out later."

"Didn't hurt at all," he said as he watched her watching his hand. "Fact is, I don't feel pain no more. Haven't fer a long, looong time." When she handed him his hand back, it twitched and flipped out of her hand, landing on the ground. It flipped around, and crawled, spider-lke, up Dead Head's pants leg, up and around his back, and down his arm, setting itself back onto his wrist. Wen it had, he held the hand up and flexed; there was no seam or scarring or anything indicating that it had been snapped off just moments ago. "A lift? Ya mean, carry me as ya fly?" He smiled again, "well, now, it'd be downright rude'a me t'say 'no' to an offer like that!"

Archeville set his medical bag down in the foyer when he entered, and headed upstairs to his bedroom; he knew the house's robotic servants would see to the proper storage of his bag. As he went upstairs, e dictated to the air, his every word caught by numerous concealed microphones scattered throughout the house, and his instructions carried out by the advanced computers underneath. "Computer, access medical records; subject: Jack Faretti Junior. Append: 'sleep cycle irregular due to odd hours of mother, though she continues breast feeding, no substitutes; seems otherwise okay, likely due to brief but intense sessions with mother. Future eye examinations will need to take night vision into account. Babysitter, Erin White, is more than capable of protecting them.' Computer, access hero files; subject: Phantom. Append: 'has stable interdimensional portal in home, accessing what appeared to be the same space she uses as medium for her teleportation. Has been used for evac in case of trouble. Keep in mind for future large-scale evacuations.'" "Shower, hot," he stated, and the automated systems snapped to attention. By the time he'd peeled off his clothes and draped them over the chair by his desk, steam had filled the bathroom. "Ach, what is it about mental intrusions that always make one feel physically dirty?" A quick shower later, and he was padding around his bedroom with a towel around his waist and one at his head; automated systems had already removed his clothes for cleaning and pressing. "Call Mona, home," he said to the air, and waited as the concealed speakers played a few rings followed by her answering machine message. "Hi, liebchen, it is me. I know you are still at the art show, and likely quite busy there, but I just wanted to hear your voice. I had a long night, some of it with your 'student,' Erin. Nothing too bad... I hope... but I will tell you all about it tomorrow. We are still on for lunch at Timothy's Bistro, right? Love you!" The Doktor made a few more preparations for tomorrow's activities, checked on the progress of a few experiments running in his laboratories, and fixed a small dinner. Hours later, with still no word from Mona, he crawled onto the transgenic spider-goat silk sheets of his bed and dozed off. "Computer, was ist die Temperatur? Warum fühlt sich die Luft so trocken? Lichter!" Pain flooded in. "Zu hell! Verdunkeln Sie die Lichter, verdunkeln Sie sie!" The house obeyed, though he still saw spots. He staggered to the bathroom, one hand over his eyes, the other reaching out, groping about in the blinding light to make his way to the sink. A glitch in the home's HVAC and lighting systems, that must be it. Well, that or a very intense heat ray focused on him... no, no, his security systems would- He reached the sink, and the mirror above it. "Was ist..." His face was not his own. His body was not his own. "Wie geschah dieses?" He flexed his hands, looking at first in disgust at how the fine black scales rippled as he moved, and that talons glinted in the light, but slowly coming to marvel at them. The webbing between the fingers startled him, but a moment's practice and had the reflex for withdrawing and extending it down pat. He examined his mouth, now half again wider than before, his green lips and gums, and the two rows of teeth, one triangular (like a sharks') and one needle-like (similar to a piranhas). He checks his eyes, bulging and black, like a doll's, and very sensitive to the light. The little bit of white around the edge was shot through with blue-purple veins. He ran both hands through his now-crimson hair, which seemed to wave about with a life of its own. He looked at his hands again, then to his arms, legs and feet. His limbs had become more slender, almost willowy, but his hands and feet had become broader and distended. An inhuman laugh echoed throughout the house, while things in a far realm, vast and alien in intelligence, stirred in their death-slumbers. ~fin~

"Well, like I said, he tried practicin' his surgical skills on me... but it didn't work so well," he chuckled. "Seems my body'd heal up too fast for 'im to work. So instead, he jes' peeled back my skin, pinned it with some clamps an' such -- had ta use silver ones, 'cuz those's the only ones what'd work -- an' we went through him namin' all my muscles and bones. Even yanked out a few for him t'inspect up close! Like this!" He held up his right hand, grabbed it with his left, and pulled. It came off with a sickening snap, and he offered it to the heroine. It was dry and leathery, and discolored as if sporting a bruise over the entire surface. Neither the hand not his stump bled, though the end where he had broken it off was slightly damp with dark red gunk. "An' after that," he continued cheerily, "we decided ta check just how well I heal up, do it all scientific-like, measurin' an' such. Shot me, chopped me, burned me, all sorts'a stuff! I even fought a robot!"

For the Seven Greeks/Seven Chosen (you seem to lip back and forth on the name, you should stick with one), why not use codenames based on heroes of Greek mythology?

"Augen und Gehirne, Herr Rift," Archeville replied, holding up a finger to his temple, "eyes and brains. Look around you. Look for the patterns, how the debris is scattered. Which would be easier if you had called me in when you first found the poor creature," he smirked, "but, your heart was in the right place." "Of course, even those as gifted as us can use a bit of help now and again," he went on as he began adjusting his Electromagnetic Screwdriver, "so a scan of the area to see what metals, plastics, and ceramics are here -- and knowing which ones should be here, based on the typical trash for this particular area, and should not be here, based on the scans I took earlier -- should point us towards anything that does not belong, such as components from your friend. Ah!" The little gadget began to emit a series of pings and whistles, leading the two deeper into the alley. Under the wheel of a large dumpster they found a small sheet of metal, which upon examination was the missing wing. And behind the dumpster, among scrapes and scratches indicating the creature had tried to scamper behind it for shelter from its attackers, were more components, mostly for its head and chest... including a small hard drive! "Ah-ha! A memory module, perhaps? Records of who did this? Or programs to make it a more tractable cyborg? Either way, this will be quite important!"

"Innnnteresting," he said, though she was not sure if that was directed at her various shapeshifting difficulties, or at what his scanner was telling him. Her talk of Silver brought his attention fully back to her, "so you had to deliver something to one of your ancestors? Hunh... has anyone else in your family ever evidenced 'supernatural' abilities? Wait -- why would the Queen of Summer be sending him something... unless... " Archeville's eyes lit up, "unless he was also Faerie Royalty... which means you would be, too!" "And speaking of silver," he said, looking back towards the assortment of metal samples on the distant table, "are you up for some more tests? Your arm looks almost completely healed!"

"ArcheTech, hunh? That's the company run by that German feller, Arkeville, right? I met him, not too long ago," he said, nodding. "Got word he was lookin' er medical cadavers t' keep his surgical skills from gettin' rusty, I went over'n volunteered. Figured it'd be a good way t'make some cash. Didn't work out as well as he'd hoped, though, but I was able t'help him brush up on his musculoskeletal anatomy." "So, sure, soon as we's done here," he stood upright and removed his shovel from the ground, "I'm happy t'head t'yer lab. 'less somethin' else comes up, a'course." After filling in the trap-pits Miss A had removed the spikes from, he lead her on a short tour of the cemetery. I was not very big, but was quite old; "they stopped usin' headstones like this 'bout sixty years ago!"

Toughness save, DC 29 (1d20+20=37) "Ha! You call that breaking my spine?!"

"Yes an' no," he said after a moment. "The word zombi comes from Voodoo, an' refers to a mindless servant made from a corpse, or from someone who think he's a corpse. I ain't mindless, but my mojo came from one'a the Voodoo loa. An' unlike the ones in Romero's flicks -- or Snyder's," he rolled his eyes, "I don't crave the flesh'a th' livin'. Used to be that my ability t' bounce back from harm could be amped up by eatin' meat -- usually raw hamburger, sometimes pork -- but now I don't even need that. Fun fact, in his first flick, they was only called 'ghouls'!" There were three other pits, and Miss A finished clearing those around the same time Dead Head finished refilling the grave. He sunk his shovel into the ground, and leaned back against it. "So, ya gotta rush off anywhere? I got a few more things t'check here 'fore movin' on, and I'm always happy fer company. Most'a them's happy fer it, too."

The officer, clearly taken with the heroine, agreed to all she said; they also called in the local gravedigger to come cover the mess. They carted them off, the minions in one car, Dr. Nekropoliz in the other (and his staff in the trunk). "Thanks a heap, Miss 'Mericana!," the zombie in badly tattered clothes said, smiling. "Woulda taken me a while t'get outta that predicament, an' by the time I did they might've cleared outta here!" He shambled over to the open grave, and checked the coffin. "Ah, good, they didn't get in yet. All's I gotta do is pull his covers back over 'im." He unstrapped the shovel from his back and set to work refilling the hole. After a few shovelfulls he turned to Miss A, "so, you from around here?"