Electra
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Stesha frowned, just a little, just for a moment, at the idea of the doctor making up purifiers or food bars for Sanctuary. She believed in second chances, she really did, but there was a line between forgiving and being dumb. It would be dumb to ignore the possibility, however remote, that some fragment of the evil personality remained in Doktor Archeville and was keen to set up shop again. She couldn't discount the possibility, not when she'd worked with the evil personality for months before last year and never noticed anything amiss. "You know how to set up a water wheel?" she repeated, brightening at that idea. "That could be just perfect. I've been trying to get more electrical power there, renewable power that isn't dependent on Prime, but it's been slow going. I found a blacksmith, one of those folks who does horseshoes out of a truck-mounted forge, and he's held a few classes on technique for making nails and hinges, but we don't have a real forge yet either. All those things would be helpful." She was obviously quite pleased with the possibility, even the flowers in her hair seeming to perk up.
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"I'm not hungry," Gina lied, taking one more bite and then nudging her plate away. "It was good, though. You're getting to be a good cook." She shifted in her seat, looked over at the clock. Letting him stay last night had been the right thing to do, but having him here this morning was strange and discomfiting. He didn't usually show up in the daytime, and even with the shades on the window, there was no comfortable darkness here to hide behind. Anyway, Sharl might drop by any time when he wasn't in class, and wouldn't that be a little slice of hell? "You should probably start getting ready if you're working today," she told Steve. "The guest shower has clean towels and soap in it."
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Stesha blinked in surprise. Of all the things he might have asked, that was one of the further things from her mind. Unbidden, her thoughts tumbled back to a night ten months ago, where she'd sat in the darkness in her leaf cottage, protecting helpless children and praying that the madman with Viktor's face wouldn't ever find his way to Sanctuary. She shook the thought away as quickly as it had cropped up. He wasn't responsible for what he'd done when he wasn't in his right mind. Precautions had been taken, and nothing like that would ever happen again. And hadn't he paid enough? He didn't even know her name anymore, or the names of most of the people he'd once called friend. It had to be so lonely. "What did you want to do?" she asked gently. "There are all sorts of things Sanctuary still needs. I don't think I realized when I started what I was getting myself into, and there's plenty of work to go around."
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Stesha paused in the doorway even as she peeled back the black domino mask and green hood she wore as a crimefighter. She had a million things to do at home, as usual, but she always made time for her friends. And despite everything that had happened last year, Doktor Archeville was still a friend and a teammate. She stepped back into the room, smoothing a few flyaway strands of her closely braided green hair without dislodging the miniature yellow roses that decorated it. "Of course," she said easily, "what is it?"
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Wander took the proffered bat, keeping it a hand-length baton for the moment as she studied the place where the barrier had been. "Mind control is tricky," she observed. "If anybody starts acting controlled, the people around them have to be ready to intervene." She looked at Midnight then, just for a second, but it was enough. "We all need to stay together and watch each other's backs. Getting Edge free is our first priority. If he's turned, even temporarily, we may not have any chance of winning. Redbird, what do you know about Madrigal's hounds?"
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"Could work," she decided with a nod. "ArcheTech has a slush fund designed for victims of extranormal disasters, this is the sort of thing for which I could definitely tap it. The Freedom League does good work with refugees, but I have a feeling these folks will need more than the basics." She tapped a finger against her lips absently, a gesture he'd seen Miss Americana make dozens of times. "Do you know if there were any scientists or engineers in the group? I could hire some on, assuming that Dragonfly doesn't call first dibs on them. Only fair, since she was in on rescuing them from damnation, I suppose."
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Erin resisted the urge to check her arms when Meaghan described her as musclebound; rather to Frank's disappointment, she'd asked for a dress that specifically downplayed the more chiseled edges of her physique. It was just an insult tossed by a stranger, she reminded herself. Worse than a stranger, really, someone who had caused pain to someone she loved. Erin would gladly have taken the girl outside just for that, but she knew it would just cause more problems for Trevor's civilian identity. Instead, she leaned in towards Meaghan and gave her a smile that showed teeth. "I'll be nice if you will," she told the foxfaced girl in a low voice. "But I don't trade verbal jabs." Straightening, she politely paid attention to the conversation between Trevor and Meaghan's date.
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Miss Americana frowned, working her way through the crowd in the direction of the control booth. "It seemed to come as a surprise to the band as well," she pointed out to Sharl. "And going to so much trouble to set up an illusion and then immediately ruining it doesn't make sense. Someone might have sabotaged the system. We'd better take a look at it before whoever did it starts up again and says something more inflammatory. There were very nearly riots over D-Gray's death, and his fans haven't gotten any less devoted in the intervening years. We don't want to see this crowd turn ugly."
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"I'm glad you got some rest," Gina told him, sipping her coffee and studying the rim of her cup. She herself had woken when he'd stirred, but had feigned sleep a little while longer. Waking up tangled with a man was a strange feeling, but part of her had liked it. When she was asleep she wasn't cripplingly neurotic, when she was asleep she could reach out and hold onto someone. At the same time she was glad when he'd gotten up and gone to the kitchen, since that gave her time to try and detrollify herself. For whatever that was worth. "Sounds like you'll probably have a full plate again today," she speculated. "Anything Miss Americana or ArcheTech can do to help?" Gina ate a few bites of her breakfast to be polite, much as she did when they made popcorn for movies. It was good, but eating in front of people just provoked more anxiety, and that was the last thing she needed. "I should probably get in touch with Dragonfly at HAX, but not until the word gets out a little more. Wouldn't want to start rumors."
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After a little while, Gina's little helper robot Emerson rolled into the kitchen on its nearly-silent electric treads. It began cleaning up after Steve, tossing away eggshells, washing the prep dishes, mopping faint scuffs from the floor. Steve knew Gina could inhabit the robot when she chose, but at the moment it seemed to be on autopilot, doing its job to keep the house clean. Faint noises from the back hallway indicated that Gina was probably awake and showering, but it took her a long time to come out. Breakfast was ready by the time she appeared, neatly dressed and with her hair done and makeup applied. It was the way she usually preferred to look when Steve was around, for all that she didn't think it helped her much. "You're an early bird this morning," she noted without quite meeting his eyes, going to the timer-automated coffeepot and pouring herself a cup. "Didn't you sleep well?"
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Koshiro looked up from his examination with a faint look of irritation. Not that such a look was terribly unusual for him, but right now he just wanted to get a better look at the strange piece. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he told Kimber. "Or any of you. They've never put origami dragons on gravestones anywhere I know about, and it sure as hell isn't ticking." He paused, looking around with his brow furrowed. "Actually, nothing anybody is saying about this thing jibes with anything else. It's like we're all describing something totally different." He looked again at the display, but there was no identifying label on his side. "What's it supposed to be, anyway?"
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"Yes, that's a good idea," Miss A told Sharl without missing a beat. "I've got a box full of certificates and awards to hand out, and taking the car will make that easier. Come right this way." She led the students out of the lab and through the halls, busy with scientists and researchers going about their days, winding up at a large glass-walled elevator. The trip to the roof was quick, and soon they were arriving at the top of the science pyramid, where a sort of improvised garage housed some of ArcheTech's flying machines. The gravcar itself was near the front of the enclosure, and looked for all the world like a white convertible with the top down. "Get in and buckle up," she told them as she tucked the awards in the trunk, then climbed into the driver's seat herself. A transparent plastic bubble rose over the car when she turned it on, protecting them from wind as the car lifted, hovered, then took off. "So Glow," Miss A said, perfectly nonchalant as the car rocketed through the sky. "You have an interest in science? What field do you like most?"
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Koshiro, who'd given up on looking at the exhibits and started making penguins of the field trip packet, looked up at Kimber's words. He didn't know what the ghost girl was talking about, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the case she was standing by. The red origami dragon was like nothing he'd ever seen, intricate and fierce, clearly paper and yet oddly organic. He set aside his own papers and walked closer, trying to figure out how it was made, or who might have made it. But the closer he got, the less sense it made. The folds didn't add up, they didn't even make sense... That, plus the way the paper eyes seemed to watch him, drew a shudder from him that he tried to suppress.
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Gina turned her back on him and stared at the opposite wall for more than a moment, more than a couple of minutes, even. Being infuriated with herself did nothing to stem the panic attack that sent her heart racing and filled her mind with catastrophic images; all she could do was hold onto her own arms tightly enough to bruise as she waited out her own demons. She was aware of him as he moved past her and sat down on the bed, but pushed him from her mind as she worked her way through the tedious mental exercises that sometimes helped. Filling her mind with mathematical calculations gradually pushed out the panic, and by the time she'd calculated the appropriate trajectory for launching a spacecraft between Mars and Europa during the aphelion season, her breathing was returning to normal and she didn't feel so much like she might faint. "All lights off," she commanded the room in a voice that shook just a little. The room was plunged into darkness, so that she had to find her way over to the bed by touch alone. She found his leg with her hand, then his face, touched his cheek and jaw with her fingers. Without his armor on, Steve was as blind as she, surrounded by a velvet blackness so profound that even from inches away, they couldn't see each other. "This is what I can give you tonight," she murmured. "I can't do any better."
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She met his eyes and held them for a brief moment before looking away, even in the dim light of the darkened living room. "I understand," she said finally. "You don't have to be alone tonight. Stay with me." Rising, she took his hand and led him down the hall, navigating effortlessly in the faint light. Every other time they'd stayed in the living room or gone into the white-walled and somewhat dusty second bedroom, but tonight she led him into a room he'd never seen; her own bedroom. Bigger than the guest room, it was decorated in a very minimal fashion, as made sense for a hyperintellect that needed rest and relaxation. Cream-colored walls were decorated here and there with small black and white art prints, and the dressertop held an abstract statue of green jade. A single bookcase held a well-read collection of books, with a recliner next to it for easy access. The bed took up most of the rest of the room; it was very large for one person, with lots of feather pillows and a comforter that looked deep enough to sink into. It was a comfortable room, a sanctuary for a very private person. Gina made it all the way into the room before she had to stop, pressing one hand against her racing heart. "Just... just give me a minute," she told Steve, closing her eyes.
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Miss Americana raised an eyebrow as she watched the stage, looking at the "new arrival." "Look at that," she said to Sharl, pointing to the scene. "They're projecting a holographic image using a Mylar sheet and a thin mesh scrim to hide it from the audience. The live musicians are actually standing behind the screen. It's called a Pepper's Ghost illusion. They must've calibrated it extremely carefully to attempt it before full dark." She frowned just a bit, looking around. "I just hope it doesn't make anyone hysterical or start a fight somewhere. People aren't always as skeptical as they ought to be."
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Ammy giggled at having her nose gotten, then began reaching out over Alicia's shoulder, trying to grab hold of a colorful wing. "No, sweetheart," Fleur scolded gently, "you can't have those. You'll hurt the nice lady!" Ammy didn't pay much attention to the remonstrance, but luckily her arms weren't very long. Fleur kept a careful eye out for more mischief, even as she addressed Alicia again. "That's one way to handle self-defense," she agreed, "but you do have to take care. If you carry a weapon, a villain can take it away and use it against you, and then you're in worse trouble than before! Is this your patrol area, here in the Theatre District?"
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"She's really much easier to talk to than I am," Gina pointed out with the faintest hint of a rueful smile. "And way more likely to find the words to say. I'm sure you've heard all the words, the truisms, the tired lines from the doctors and the psychologists and the people who all mean well. I don't think I can tell you anything you don't know about how you heal or live with yourself after what happened to you." She sighed, then laced her fingers through his and held his hand tight, looking down at the join rather than at his face. "But to me, it doesn't matter what you did before. I see you now, and I don't see the Omegadrone. I see Caradoc, I see Steve Murdock. The man you made, not the thing they made you."
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Notice: 29, Knowledge History: 21
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Straight Int (replace Knowledge: Pop Culture): 17 Knowledge: Technology, 40 (skill mastery)
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"I'm so sorry," Gina murmured, empty, hollow, useless words. What was there to say in response to a story like that, a story that she couldn't wrap her mind around for fear that internalizing it would be more than she could bear? "No one should have to go through anything like that. You saved people today from that kind of fate, or worse. You said there was a little girl, one who attached herself to Jill o'Cure? She'll sleep safe and warm tonight with people who care what happens to her, because of you. Maybe the technicians were afraid of you, but you're a hero to that girl."
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Wow, a nat 20! Total, then, of 24. Erin must have had to write a paper on this or something.
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Despite herself, Gina was visibly taken aback by that. "They decided to have a child on Nihilor?" she asked incredulously. "That..." She stopped and moistened her lips, trying to come up with something substantially more diplomatic than accusing them of complete insanity. "They must have held out a lot of hope, even after all that time, that things would eventually get better," she offered instead. "It can't have been easy for any of you." Even with what little she knew of the homeworld of the Terminus, her mind was boggled by the idea of trying to live a life there, much less raise a family.
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Erin gets a 28
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Gina's immense intellect went to work processing and analyzing the story almost in spite of herself, drawing out the nuances from context and what she knew already of the Terminus. She chose not to focus for the moment on how old this story made him, if his parents hailed from one of the senior client worlds of the Terminus, and also made herself rise above the sheer horror of a world ripped apart by the malevolence of one of its own heroes. "The Terminus has a history of approaching planets at times of weakness, when they are ill-prepared to put up a fight. There was probably little your parents could've done," she offered.