Dr Archeville

"Agreed," he mumbled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. Not that such discussions ever bothered him, but he respected Facsimile's "inappropriate dinner conversation" request. The food was good, deliciously greasy and stomach-filling. During the meal Archeville made idle conversation -- asking about businesses that went boom or bust over the past few years, local restaurants, odd weather patterns, celebrity sightings. He made a point not to ask anything about Facsimie's powers, or his personal life, keeping the conversation light and breezy. Eventually, of course, the food was gone, and they both sat back satisfied. "Ah, there is an elegance to a simple meal, yes? Thank you for bringing me here!"

"So," he said while processing all he'd just been told, "if I'm understanding your correctly, when you were marble, and your legs were cut off, when you changed back, your flesh-and-blood legs reappeared, but there were marble legs lying on the ground somewhere? Wait, you also said you were massive at the time, so you were a marble giant? You can take on properties of size, too?" He sat back in the booth, eyes wide. "Astonishing," he muttered, just as the waitress brought them their food. He off-handedly thanks her, but ignored his food for a few moments as his mind roiled with thoughts. But the smell of crispy bacon eventually got through to him; he looked down, saw their food, and smiled. "Ah, good," he reached into one of his overall's pockets and brought out two small vials, "I've had nothing to eat since early this morning." The contents of one vial, a silvery blue powder, he sprinkled into his coffee and stirred it in. The other, containing dark coppery flakes, he sprinkled over his hash browns. "Oh, ah, yes -- my, er, condition requires certain nutritional supplements. Powdered gallium, in my coffee -- oh, that is nice," he said after a sip, "simple and unpretentious -- and cuprate-perovskite ceramic flakes for my hash browns." "Why do I want to know all this?," he repeated after a second sip, "well, as I said, I'm a Doktor, a Scientist, and knowing things, figuring out how they work, is what I do. I'm sure you've heard that ArcheTech had worked with ASTRO Labs and others in studying metahuman powers, and helping metahumans learn to control their abilities, or use them in new ways. I'd like to continue that, in some small manner, but to do so I need to know wha- that is, who I'm working with."

Woo-hoo! Welcome back!

"Don't be so quick to belittle yourself, young man," he softly chided, "we all do what we can to help others in our own way. For some, that's fighting criminals. For others, that's tackling more... nebulous ills." "So you can regrow limbs, too?" he asked, leaning over to peer under the table. "Or did you... reattach your limb, holding the marble legs to your marble stumps before shifting back?" The latter fit better into the theories he was forming regarding Facsimile's powers, but if it was the former, that could lead to some interesting possibilities. "Heh, sorry, I guess that's my question. And to answer yours: there's some more work for me to do at Southside Family Medical, and a few other places in the area. Once I'm done here, well, I'm not exactly sure where I'll be going next, but my next big project -- which I hope to get started sometime next month -- will be taking me far from here." He nodded towards his left hand, which was again projecting a small lifelike hologram, this time of a retro rocket ship blasting off and leaving Earth's atmosphere.

"I don't think we can drink here," Davyd said, glancing over at Lulu, "I saw that the minimum age for that is 18. But if our trip takes us out to international waters," he trailed off while looking towards Pan and Veronica. Davyd tried not to gawk at the girl he'd so quickly developed a crush on -- especially not when her boyfriend was right there beside her, holding her hand -- but his body had other ideas. A third eye sprouted on the side of his head, peeking out from behind his hair, letting him see her while facing Pan and Veronica. "I'm with Lulu- er, I mean, I agree with her, we should get something to eat. I'd love to try some fresh seafood!" Unfortunately, it all fed into his same field of vision, so she and they were all superimposed over one another, which quickly gave him a headache. He closed his (forward) eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, which meant his only visual input was coming from the side-eye peeking out at Lulu. Realizing what was going on, he moved his hand from his nose to that side of his head, pretending to scratch an itch there while covering that eye with his palm.

"Patch"'s bushy holographic eyebrows shot up, "astonishing! So you can mimic energy, and technology? If you copied someone's smartphone, you would not only have the hardness and durability of the case, but could make calls, take photos, access the internet? That is... is..." he stammered a bit as his mind raced with the possibilities, "that is amazing!" And potentially extremely dangerous. Though he seems to already know that. He shook his head for a moment as he continued thinking of possibilities for Facsimile's power, but finally snapped out of it. "A fair question! I was at Southside Family Medical Center, repairing -- and, when possible, upgrading -- their equipment. This area is not as... prosperous as other parts of Freedom, for a variety of reasons, and I wanted to contribute in some small way to the community here. I cannot do as much as I once could have, since I turned ArcheTech over to Miss Americana," no bitterness there, but resigned acceptance, "but I can make sure their computers are running smoothly, the blood pressure cuffs are getting accurate readings, the centrifuges in their blood lab are properly balanced, and so on." He'd considered smuggling in medications and other consumable medical supplies, but knew that would raise too many questions. A computer running more smoothly than it did last week is one thing, the sudden appearance of dozens of vials of broad spectrum antibiotics or insulin would be another. But, he realized now, there might be a way. "So when you mimic some substance," he began, "and a part of you is, ah, separated -- say, you were to cut your fingernails or hair -- would those separated parts automatically revert to their original form? Or would they remain transmuted?"

Ah. Straight to it, then. Well, best to get it over with. "Well," he began, mood switching from joyous to somber as he went into his practiced tale, "in the immediate aftermath, I was in a hospital -- Providence Asylum -- getting my mind put back together following my possession and exorcism. Some months later, while trying to clean up some of the damage, I was trapped on a savage desert world in another dimension. After several harrowing adventures, I managed to return here, helped a few others, then," he held up his left hand, though kept the holodisguise up, "this happened. More hospital stays, more tests. Not long after I was given as clean a bill of health as could be given, The Incursion happened, and I found myself on an alien world, fighting and also desperately avoiding The Communion, for fear of what they could do with what was locked inside my mind and new body. Eventually I made my way back to Earth, and have been slowly re-acclimating myself to helping others, though doing so secretly, subtly, in disguise." Alexander did not sense any deception on Archeville's part, though he also knew the Doktor was leaving some details out. Archeville was quiet a moment, letting Alexander absorb all that had been said. "So," he said at last, voice slowly turning more upbeat, "I've seen you mimic aggregate substances, like asphalt and," he held up both hands and wiggled his fingers, "and you said the first thing you mimicked was a steel girder, so it would seem you can copy alloys, too. And I would presume you could also mimic pure elements, like a diamond. Can you only mimic solids? Can you assume liquid or gaseous forms?"

Lagging

"Sounds more than fair!" he replied with an enthusiastic smile, "and I guess my first question will be- oh, hold on a moment." A waitress had stopped by and asked for their orders. Dok ordered coffee and the "old timer's" breakfast platter, with eggs, thick bacon, hash browns, and toast. "Patch" sweet talked the waitress a bit, and talked her into getting the cook to add some diced onions and jalapeños to his potatoes. "Now, where was I," he said as she walked off with both their orders, "ah, yes -- so how long have you been able to do what you do? Is this a relatively new thing, or could you do this as a child?"

Okay, so he's clearly recognized the name, but he didn't bolt, or slug me. This is good. "I'm sure there's a fascinating story behind that one," he replied as he shook Facsimile's hand, and restored the holodisguise over his other one. "Would you mind if I asked you some questions about your abilities? I like to-," he stopped himself before saying 'keep tabs on,' knowing how sinister that might sound, "be aware of the metahumans operating in the city. Especially those of a heroic nature, who I might could offer some assistance to. Well," he tilted his head slightly, "I've attempted to help rehabilitates some of the criminal ones, too, with varying degrees of success."

In that case, I'd definitely be interested in getting Horrorshow up there!

Horroshow's already in a Summer Vacation thread, so my Claremonter will need to skip this. But Doktor Archeville just moved to SPAAACE, so I'd love to get him in on this!

"You have a spaceship?!" Davyd gasped. Of course she does, why wouldn't she? And surely this is not like one of those movies where an unsuspecting teen is lured into the alien vessel and subjected to probes and- ah, crap, telepath! He cleared his throat (and mind), "uh, yeah, sure, that'd be great. It's been about a week since my last prob- er, medical test, so I'm up for it!" He morphed again, now looking like a football quarterback, "thanks, coach," he told Lynn, "I really gave it 110% out there!"

I don't think that bartender's all there... Take yer time, boy, Dead Head thought to his companion, an' be sure t'stay outta sight. Which shouldn't be too tough, under most circumstances, but I got a feelin' some'a these folks here are sensitive t'spirits like yerself, so this may be one'a th'times ya need t'take extra care. "Oh, right, thanks!" he announced, trying to make sure he was heard by their host and his two companions. "Say, that's some nice ink," he continued, poking at the large man's arms, "where'd ya get 'em done? A cousin'a mine, he tried gettin' a piece like this, but the guy what did it was usin' bad needles or somethin', it got infected -- almost lost the arm!" The anecdote was somewhat true: it wasn't a cousin, and the man did die from the infection, caused by an artist who was trying to make magic tattoos that could empower some local gang members, using cremated remains mixed in with the inks. Burt had managed to put a stop to that, and now the artist was in prison.

"They'd have to have someone, wouldn't they?," he nodded along, glancing over the laminated menu, "and I'd imagine it'd be someone they trust, if not one of their own. Maybe someone secluded... oh," he laughed, "like their version of Merlin!" He glanced about to make sure no one was looking their way, "yes, well, there's a reason for that," he pointed to his left hand. The holodisguise over it shimmered away, revealing the shifting hybrid of circuitry, flesh, and metal that he had experienced moments ago. He turned his left hand so it was palm up, "I was not always like this. In fact," an action figure-sized hologram appeared in his hand, indistinct at first but slowly coming into focus, "I used to look quite different. And quite recognizable." The image resolved into a man in a flowing white labcoat and flowing golden blonde hair, holding a blinking wand-like device in one hand. He extended his right hand to Alexander, "Herr Doktor Viktor Archeville, at your service."

Davyd had rarely left New Jersey, and his few trips out of the country were to visit relatives in Ukraine, so the Caribbean was a wholly new thing for him. Which excited him to no end, and that was before talk of possibly exploring a shipwreck! Ever since Veronica asked him along, he'd been studying marine animals, to help with the exploration; he could manage most molluscs and crustaceans well enough, but vertebrate fish still gave him some problems. Of course, there was also the elephant in the room: his growing fondness for Lulu, who was on this trip, along with her boyfriend Adam. But "communicating with people" and "expressing his authentic self" were still things he was struggling with, so he'd spend much of the trip over chatting with Pan, or more accurately listening to his tales of high adventures, in both his home of Neverworld and his new home of Freedom. He wore sandals, navy blue shorts, and a rainbow tie-dyed tee shirt.

REMOLDED BY TT A minor request for Horrorshow: please swap out his Immunity to Heat (environmental) to an Immunity to Cold (environmental). I'd meant to make that change before originally submitting him! EDIT: Oh, that's right, I've got six nine unspent points! Okay, let's just go ahead and give him full life support. Change this Immunity 8 (adaptive physiology; Critical Hits, Disease, Heat [environmental], Poison, Radiation [environmental], Suffocation 2) [8PP] to this Immunity 12 (adaptive physiology; Critical Hits, Life Support, Starvation & Thirst) [12PP] Spending 4 points, leaving 2 5 unspent.

I'd wager your sense of touch is better than 'good,' young man, he thought, if your ability to mimic materials can tie into that. How fascinating. "Oh, ah, no, no, I don't know them," he stammered, realizing that the young man had never said the name of the biker gang. He handed over his helmet so Alexander could stow it away properly. "I just remembered a newspaper article about those bank robberies you'd mentioned, and a piece in Hot Bike about rising cycle gangs. Both showed machines with that horse design stenciled on them, so I figured they were the same." This was partially true: he had first heard of the Knights of Anarchy in an article in Hot Bike, a magazine he subscribed to for the bike care tips. The newspaper clippings were ones he'd just recently accessed, on the ride over. "I'm surprised to hear they don't have any dedicated mechanics, though," he said as he followed the young man in, "even if they are fully committed to the Medieval aesthetic, they'd need someone to make sure their bikes are in working order. Knights needed someone to look after their steeds, after all!"

I can easily fly faster than this bike can go, Archeville thought to himself, not to mention teleport instantly, but it is nice to ride sometimes. And I've not been on one of these since my high school days! The repairman whooped and laughed and hollered, clearly enjoying the ride. When they got to Joe's Diner, he was softly chuckling as he dismounted. "That's a fast machine you've got there, young man! Did the Knights of Anarchy do that, or was that an upgrade you did yourself?" If this man proves to be on the up-and-up, I can think of several upgrades he may be interested in.

Dead Head Dance Macabre (2) 2 posts, +23 from Dok = 25 posts = 3pp Doktor Archeville [Titanium!] A New Enterprise (1) Better Thinking in the Lost World (4) The Strongest Link (8) Upgrading the Supply Chain (22) 1+4+8+22 = 35 posts; 23 to Dead Head and 12 to Horrorshow Horroshow Body Doubles (3) Dead Men Tell No Tales (5) Mud Pack (3) Nostalgia Trip (0) Stellar School (2) 3+5+3+2 = 13 posts, +12 from Dok = 25 posts = 3pp Posts from Dok should go to Dead Head first, he's closest to being maxed.

Davyd nodded at Corinne's words, "that makes a lot of sense, yeah. If there are students with all sorts of abilities here, then they'd need all sorts of equipment and spaces in order to train with those abilities." Her mention of more 'specialized things' in a 'more secure' location intrigued him, but he sensed she was not in an approachable mood at the moment, so shelved that for another time. Movement just within his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned and saw the two students at the rock wall. "Oh, I bet that would be good for me! Get to know what my body can do, work on my sense of pro... pro...," he struggled to recall the word from a recent study of human and animal senses, then suddenly it came to him, "proprioception, that's it!" He waved at the two students just as one called out to Corinne and Leroy, and began walking towards them, a warm smile on his face, "hi! I'm Davyd, I'm new here."

"'Sir Prize'? Was he done up like a knight? Seems I read something about knights on motorcycles once," he stroked his chin in thought, "at Ren Faires or some such. Don't think it ever caught on. And robbing banks?" He clucked his tongue and shook his head, remembering the last time he'd encountered some bank robbers, "hope no one got hurt!" While still mentally connected to the internet, he did a search on bank robberies + bikers + Sir Prize, hoping to find some more info on those events and on the young man before him who had stopped them. "Oh, that is interesting!," he exclaimed as he was handed the helmet. Wow, I have no idea what half of these are! I'll do an image capture now, run an image search later. After camera eyes snapped some quick photos, he put on the helmet, then took out some leather gloves from his tool belt and pulled them on. "Just in case," he said with a chuckle, then hopped on and prepared for an interesting ride.

"You saved an entire biker gang?!" he asked, awe creeping into his voice. "How did you manage that? Was it a particular person or group of people trying to lead them astray, or more," he gestured vaguely around them, "nebulous societal ills? Are you as skilled at changing hearts and minds as you are at changing your own flesh?" Scores of questions about the young man's abilities ran through Archeville's mind, but he tried to put those aside for the moment and focus on getting to know the young man before him. "Ah, yes, privacy would be better -- I'm sure you have some questions about why what happened when you touched me happened, which I would prefer not to announce out here" he glanced about, "in the middle of the street. If you think this Joe's Diner will give us some privacy, then please, lead on." As he walked with the young man, he technopathically connected to the internet and began searching for reviews of Joe's Diner, so he'd have some idea of what he was going in for. He looked over at the bike again, "you wouldn't happen to have an extra helmet, would you?"

"I've had some practice with this sort of thing," he said a bit sheepishly, preparing to roll with the super-strong slap that did not come. Okay, he is aware of his own strength, that's promising. "Practice is good, yes," he agreed, nodding, "be it with skills or superpowers. That's part of why I'm down here, actually," he gestured back towards the medical center with one hand, and jiggled his tool belt with the other, "plus, you know, pitching in for the good of the community. Something that," he looked him up and down, "I would hope a young man of your talents would also be interested in?" They have a school for training young metahumans? Amazing! I didn't see anything about that when I was at Freedom Hall last month... so it's probably not a public institution. But who, and where- no, no, I've got enough on my schedule as is, I don't need to tackle that mystery.

Dead Head pulled the "one raised eyebrow" look at Casey as he saw her expose her neck to their almost certainly vampiric host. Is she already under 'is sway? I didn't hear 'im tell 'er t'take that off, but if'n 'e can issue commands telepathically... hrm. He took the drink with one hand, and with the other reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of... something, which he plopped down on the bar as he walked off. (An old subway ticket, a dead roach, a gum wrapper with chewed gum inside, a crumpled paper napkin, a ball of lint, a live roach, and a very wrinkled $2 bill.) He tried following the host and the two girls, without looking like he was following them, a difficult task as he wasn't used to such deception. Good job, Mutt, he thought to his companion, keep sniffin'. I'm on the trail'a one'a the vamps, looks like 'e's got his sights set on two coeds. Think I may try an' go spoil 'is dinner. "Bathroom, eh!" he called out to their host, in a slurred voice, stumbled up the grand central stairway after the trio, "I been lookin' fer that! These things," he downed the brain shooter in one gulp, "are like to go right through me!"