Avenger Assembled

Harrier respected Gina's evident wishes and spoke nothing of what he'd seen, instead stripping down and armoring so she could look over his outer shell with a professional eye. She was experienced in dealing with his body, and even rattled was easily able to move him from exam table to scanner and back again. Miss Americana found that his worries about his shell were largely misplaced: though there had been significant corrosion to his outer shell, making him look rather like an Omegadrone who had been left out in a field for a few decades, the metal itself was still sound and its internal repairitive processes were ongoing. He'd be fine in a few hours.

Murdock knew something about pity, too. "As you prefer, Miss Americana," he said with a little nod, speaking to the robot since that seemed to be what she preferred. He turned and walked out to the front room, taking a seat that groaned slightly under his heavy weight and thinking back to the dark days of his childhood. He'd seen people broken psychologically a thousand different ways, some of them so badly they simply hid in corners and died alone. Things were different here, though, different enough that someone like Gina seemed to be could be more than she'd been, could be more than a fearful woman in a corner. Like so many things about Earth-Prime, it was glorious. There was no part of him that wanted to dismiss her pain, for all the physical pain he'd seen: he knew better than anyone what inner turmoil truly was.

"Thank you for being honest with me," said Murdock, his own voice flat and straightforward as was his usual style. "You have a fine name. Two fine names. If your work will be finished today, I will return at this time tomorrow so you can perform my examination." His work still needed doing, but he was equally worried about his friend. The look of terror on Gina's face was still in the back of his mind, a fresh layer among many horrors.

"Ah. A mechanism. My concerns are not urgent," said Murdock, weighing his words carefully as he processed the nature of what he discovered. It explained a great deal about Miss Americana, for all that it gave the woman in question entirely new depths. He was not entirely pleased with the discovery, given how he'd avoided learning the secret identities of other heroes, but he supposed this could not be avoided. "I am sorry to have disturbed you while you were working. I will, of course, keep your secret as I would any other." Finally, as she worked, he asked gently, "May I know your name?"

"Yes," agreed Murdock, remembering that conversation all too well. "I was uncomfortable with the deception at first," he admitted, "but I have come to see its wisdom. Even when I choose to show my true face in public, I prefer to have the choice to wear another when I must." He studied her closely, as if for the first time. "You could not have teleported or shapeshifted while sleeping, and I know no one came through that closed door. Is this body a holographic construct as well, like your assistant? Is it malfunctioning today?"

"Miss Americana!" called Harrier, bending over his fallen friend. "You have to tell me what is happening, or I will have to call for help," he told her without hesitation. He wasn't blind to the way she was obviously hiding something, particularly since she hadn't told him the name of the woman in the other room either, as if that was the greatest secret of all tonight. "I cannot help you without the truth. I will keep your confidences as you have kept mine, but I will not let my friend suffer without knowing why it has happened."

"There is a woman in the other room who knows my name and why I was here," said Harrier, relieved that Miss Americana was up and around but still suspicious of her strange behavior, not to mention all the other madness that had happened that afternoon. "And she addressed me as a friend," he remembered, feeling that suspicious edge again. "She seemed very frightened of me." He walked to that door again as Miss Americana watched, ready to show one to the other.

This was a very baffling set of circumstances, especially since Miss Americana was in such bizarre distress. Though Murdock was used to not really understanding what was going on, he couldn't just turn away when Miss Americana was potentially under threat. "Miss Americana?" he asked uncertainly, approaching her with a worried look on his face. "Are you well?" Normally he'd simply have declared the obvious, but it was a strange afternoon indeed. Hefting the emergency phone, he said, "Let me call the other scientists at the Lab. They will be able to assist you," he said, his usually monotone voice growing more urgent.

Feeling a surge of guilt at the terror on the woman's face, Murdock took a step back, giving her space away from her fear. "Yes. Yes, why don't I investigate that? Don't go anywhere." His tone showed he wasn't really fooled by the deception, but he could hardly press further without shattering the already fragile woman before him. There were no exits in the hallway down this way, there was nowhere she could go. He'd taken both the phone and the medical kit with him, and, keeping a close eye on the door he'd left, Murdock headed towards Miss Americana's last location. He closed the door behind him, certain that the woman would stay put until he got some answers.

"How did you know my name?" asked Murdock, the suspicion returning to his voice now that this woman was proving herself so very suspicious. He was no monster to push at someone who seemed fragile, but his suspicions were growing again now that he faced this very mysterious woman. "I have met Miss Americana's assistants and they are not like you. Her sidekick is a teenage male. She would not divulge my identity to others. Not after the Archeville incident." He frowned. "Who are you?"

"Miss Americana?" he pressed, the fear and confusion on Gina's face enough to quell his suspicion and anger, at least immediately. There was still a crisis, but if the humans were recovering, perhaps they weren't quite as dangerous as he'd feared. "How did you come to be here?" he asked again. "Miss Americana, are you awake?" he called into the other room, trying to figure out if some mental effect in the area had recently lapsed. "Or...why were you both asleep?"

He peered at her, something like suspicion on his lined face. He was a menacing-looking man at the best of times, and he certainly looked menacing now that he was worried for his usually-invulnerable friend's safety and encountering this mysterious woman squatting in her laboratory. "...you were sleeping?" he asked. She certainly didn't look unwell, for all that she was obviously startled, and he didn't smell any of the more common drugs on her. "Who are you? Is Miss Americana well?"

Harrier was tempted to simply ignore the sleeping woman; the idea that someone might have crept into a home of the powerful to spend the night was not particularly alien to him. But studying that woman gave him a sudden swell of suspicion: surely the always-private Miss Americana would never have allowed a 'squatter' in her laboratory, even one who vaguely resembled her. Perhaps she had something to do with what had happened, or knew who had! If she had suffered the same fate, perhaps there was some toxin in the air that his body was armored against, and he needed to rescue them both. He bent down and tried to shake the sleeping woman awake, his voice firm as he said, "You! Are you all right?"

"...Miss Americana?" asked Murdock, concern on his face as he lightly nudged her shoulder, then shook her with more force. He'd seen death and injury in tremendous quantities in his time, but Miss Americana didn't look like anything she'd ever seen: she wasn't dead, she had no marks of injury, no poisons he recognized: she simply looked as if she'd fallen asleep and was unable to rouse herself, even when he raised his voice to her. He thought fast, trying to think about who he could call for help. This was well beyond him, and truthfully his self-interest was strong enough that he had little desire to be alone with a friend who had suffered an unknown malady that might be blamed on consorting with Omegadrones. For his sake, and especially for hers, he needed to get help and fast! He thought fast, thinking about his previous visits to the Lab. He remembered he'd seen an emergency telephone, as well as medical kit, in what he'd taken for an emergency shelter a few corridors away, a room that he'd uncovered while roaming the halls while Miss Americana worked on his pike: he hadn't commented on his discovery to her, since it wasn't his place to pry. There was no time for such thoughts now, though; his friend was in peril! He turned and hurried for that door, throwing it open with his great strength without hesitation.

Mid-November 2011 'Caradoc' had been pulled into an ocean battle near Cape May while visiting the area as part of his work for HAX, joining some local heroes and the Freedom League in battling a limited Atlantean incursion. They'd won the battle against the underwater barbarians, but exposure to powerful metallic corrosives had left Harrier looking decidedly unsightly. He was generally confident his armor would eventually repair itself (which was a better fate than simply having what he used for bones fall apart), but his lack of experience with Atlantean meant he wanted to have someone knowledgeable about all ways of the sciences look him over. For Harrier, that unquestionably meant Miss Americana, who was brilliant, beautiful, and trustworthy all at once. He'd heard of her new role at Archetech, but she'd still been available to make an appointment at her own laboratory. So he'd done so, and now as fall fell across the city, the former Omegadrone simply walked into the private laboratory where he'd met Miss Americana so many times. "Hello?"

Okay, so the local internet is not as great as we'd been promised. We'll do our best.

"Super-Bee's powers mean she needs special accommodations; she's a commuter student," explained Nyland blandly. "But we assign all students potential rooms anyway, in case there's an emergency and they have to stay on campus for a few days. You'll probably see her when you go down to the cafeteria for supper tonight, since I believe she has a natural history class that ends about that time." She hesitated a moment, then asked, "You don't have any phobias, do you? Rats, spiders, giant insects?"

Mark hadn't gone into the house on Earth-EZO1, having only popped into the yard to make sure Erin and Trevor had arrived there safely. Between that and his own winning personality, there were only a few ghosts hovering over his shoulders as he said, "Well, here's an easy one..." With a wave of his hands, with a flashy flourish he produced two red cut roses, handing one to both the White girls. "Flowers, for two lovely Seattle flowers." He winked at them both, but gave the look special weight for Erin-Prime, more out of automatic habit when dealing with a pretty girl than anything else. "I can't make them live, but they'll last as long as any other cut rose if you put them in water. What else would you like?" he inquired of Erin in particular.

Citizen was uncomfortable around all these new faces, especially since he couldn't join in the eating: he'd learned his lesson in India and wasn't going to be filling his projection with food any time he thought he might be about to go into a crisis situation. And if there were other kids at this school like Bastion, maybe doing some of the super-drugs he'd heard about, a crisis could happen at any time. So instead he gravitated to a table with other students in black, pretending to eat his salad while all the time really working on his tablet to try and get a lead on the school's spirit via computer: he had a feeling he'd be far more successful there than if he tried to talk to these people. I wonder what my life would be like if I'd popped out here instead of Freedom City, he thought reflectively. No Miss Americana, that's for sure! I should see what kind of tech people they have...

Sharl overheard the conversation between Bonda and the others and was left frankly uncertain about what to do. Even reminding himself that this was just a simulation, the potential gravity of their choice was still nagging at him. "...we get the gorilla civilians out of here, we come back for our people and the plane, and then we're done," he suggested tentatively. "We tell the League a civil war broke out, and we tried to minimize the bloodshed. Maybe they had good relations with the king, but they're superheroes, they're not going to be sorry to see him gone...probably?"

This is your time to do further research/analysis, taking advantage of the Manor's resources.

Rose got Kristen squared away in her room, a two-person block with hookups for cable television and telephones, as well as wireless and corded internet. "Most people stack the beds into bunks to get more room, but you don't have to do that if you don't want to. Right now this room has a vacancy, because the junior it was technically assigned to, Super-Bee, doesn't actually live on campus because we can't accommodate her physically." It sounded like she was reciting a prepared speech, but one she obviously meant. "You may be assigned another roomate at the school's discretion."

Once on the surface after a smooth, comfortable ride at the hands of Gaian Knight, Dr. Rao thanked the heroes again for coming to her rescue, looking abashed for having been the cause of so much trouble. "I don't blame myself," she was quick to assure them, "I only wish I'd done more than simply faint at the sight of that great beast. I wonder how something so big could even tunnel through rock so fast without causing more seismic disturbances..." She was making notes when they left her at the hospital for one more checkup, a reassuring sign given all she'd been through that day. "Well, that was...I don't know?" said Sharl aloud, looking to Miss Americana for cues once they were away from the press of the crowd at the hospital. "I guess if I ask anyone out any time soon, I'll make sure I know them first."

"Can do," promised Edge, and with a touch the body disappeared, flashing in an instant to the examination table that Midnight had pointed out to him on previous visits to the Manor for just such an eventuality. Trevor really was prepared for anything. Mark studied the place where the body had been for a moment, irrelevant flashes of EZO1 in his mind, before he turned to the others to talk. There was no use dwelling on what they couldn't change, right? "All right, I can handle talking to the police if you guys want to handle the investigative side of things," offered Edge. "You guys are all better at that than I am. I can pop over to the Manor afterwards, or to help interview the Klan guys if you think that's relevant?" He wasn't sure what to say here; as seriously as he took this, the others were all better suited to this situation than he was. With everyone's assent, Mark hopped them over the Manor's underground fortifications, transporting them into the heart of the ancient stronghold of the Midnight legacy! This gave them access to the body and the medical equipment inside the manor for a deeper analysis, as well giving Midnight a chance to hook up his teleport tracer to a more powerful version of the same unit: the teleporter at the interrupted concert had popped from Wharton State Forest to an abandoned oil rig well off the coast of Freedom City, a place Trevor recognized as a former supervillain stronghold before a big Freedom League raid the year before had brought about a series of mass arrests. The property, far enough away that it was outside American territorial waters, was officially listed as abandoned.

"If you're leaving him here that long," said Bonda with great seriousness, "then you need to know that I will do my best to take his life when my people break through the doors. As a squire in the court of the king, I have standing to his throne, chimp or not. If the revolutionaries are going to succeed, then they need a king who has been replaced, even by a chimp with chimps at his side, not one who has been overthrown." He smiled thinly. "And if I fail, I die a traitor to one side or the other, so it seems only fair. But you must decide quickly," he added. "Time grows short below."