Electra
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Erin relaxed enough to give Ellie a cordial nod, even as she kept most of her attention on the room. The new guards were doing pretty well, she decided approvingly, funneling many of the guests out the side exits towards the tours and letting the crowded room thin out. "You're fine," she told Ellie, "there's a few minutes before the one-on-ones with VIPs have to start. You want anything to drink?" she asked Mara. There were secretaries and assistants who probably saw to that sort of thing, but on Day One, stuff was still getting ironed out.
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Koshiro hadn't been aware this was going to turn into an overnight visit, and he wasn't exactly thrilled about it. The kids at this school were weird, even compared to the weirdos at Claremont, and unlike all his classmates, he needed to change clothes and couldn't just make new ones out of nothing when he felt like it. At least his shoulder had mostly stopped hurting. The medic had told him he was lucky just to get winged, but somehow that didn't seem particularly fortunate to him. Annoyed with the world, he slouched at a table in the back of the cafeteria and picked at his food, wishing heartily that he'd gotten to hit Orion and his jackass buddies with a much harder origami fist. "Villain school," he muttered under his breath at Kimber and Cobalt Templar's suppositions. "Maybe they're putting something in the food." He pushed away his plate and looked around suspiciously for signs that they were being watched.
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Erin stepped forward as well, neatly opening a wedge in the crowd to allow Ellie access to Mara without giving up control of the crowd. She signaled to a few of the guards on the other doors to start maneuvering people in the direction of the tour guides, all without being too pushy, of course. That was the pain in the ass of this civilian work, you couldn't just make people go where you wanted them to unless there was an emergency. So far, that hadn't been an issue today, knock on wood. HAX's opening had generated a fair amount of press, but so far, no supervillains. That couldn't last forever, but at least the press conference had gone well.
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She took his hand and clasped it, beautiful porcelain-skinned hand meeting shining glove. Each one as artificial as the other, each concealing the damage beneath. "Thank you, Steve," she told him. "Take care of yourself, all right? You should be dodging the stuff those jobbers throw at you these days. At the very least, Dragonfly should be giving you a raise if you're getting soaked in acid while you're on the clock. Tell her I said so." She winked at him, sure that he could understand the humor these days.
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"My pleasure," she assured him. "The holoprojector wasn't damaged, so you'll be fine there. If you have any more trouble with it, call my private line." She paused for a moment, studying his face with the sort of frank look she'd never have mustered without her mechanical aid. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention anything about what you've seen here to anyone else. My... my effectiveness as a hero rests in large part, as yours does, upon the ability to project a believable illusion. I obviously have some work to do on my time management skills."
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Just to be on the safe side, Miss A put temporary fiberglass patches on the worst of the corroded places, simply to keep the areas clean and open while the repairs took place. "Leave your armor deployed for the rest of the day," she instructed him as she finished the patching. "It'll speed the repairs along and keep the patches clean. They should fall off by themselves when the armor is whole again. I can give you something for the pain if you need it."
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The front waiting room was an empty and dusty place, obviously not used on a regular basis by Miss Americana or her guests. There wasn't even a magazine or pamphlet to read. Luckily, Harrier was accustomed to quiet waiting. Almost exactly half an hour later, his patience was rewarded when Miss Americana walked into the room. Her gait and movement were once again smooth, and the hospital gown had been replaced by her usual red, white and blue designer uniform. "Thank you for waiting," she told him with a smile that was as easy as though nothing had happened. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you. Come on back and tell me exactly what happened." She led him back down the hallway, which bore no trace of the strange woman.
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Gina rounded her shoulders like a turtle pulling into its shell, hunching over the leg she was working on. Her hands went still for a moment, poised over the mechanism she'd been working on. At the same moment, Miss Americana turned her head to look at Harrier, an understandably distracted air about her. "No," she told him, "those armor plates need attention. I need a half hour to get these servos in order, then I can have a look at you. Why don't you go out to the front room and have a seat till then?"
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For awhile, it seemed as though the mousy woman wouldn't acknowledge him at all. Miss Americana stopped speaking, her face going slack like a beautiful mannequin. A series of switches behind the knee and ankle opened her leg entirely, revealing an elegantly streamlined mechanical interior that he could only vaguely comprehend. The woman obviously knew precisely what she was doing, working with the same expertise, even the same mannerisms that he'd seen from Miss Americana.At last she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear, "Gina."
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"Not a projection," she told him, her body suddenly going very still except for her mouth, which continued to move as she spoke. "But a malfunction, yes. Your visit interrupted some vital repair work." The door opened and the strange woman walked in, keeping her head down as though deliberately attempting to ignore Murdock. "A few more adjustments and everything will be back to normal. Better than it was before, even." The woman moved over to Miss Americana and picked up a scanner, running it over the heroine's legs. Murdock noticed suddenly that her lips moved silently with Miss Americana's words, not echoing or copying, but forming the words even as they were spoken.
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The beautiful heroine looked more than a little put out as she sat on the floor with two nonfunctional legs, but Murdock obviously meant what he said. It was in his nature to meet mysteries and threats by calling for backup, and she had no doubt he was eager to do so tonight. "Fine," she huffed, "but I won't do it on the floor. Help me up." She raised her arms for him to lift her back to the table, where she arranged herself with what dignity she could muster, given a dozen nonfunctional body servos. "Do you remember what I told you," she began, "when I built the holoprojector for you? How I believe everyone should be able to have a heroic identity to match the inner hero?"
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"Oh, her?" Miss A's voice was entirely dismissive. "She's frightened of everything, but she's useful in her own way. You probably surprised her. That door is usually locked," she pointed out. "But in any case, you mentioned you had some acid damage to your armor plating? We should take a look at that, make sure it's not too serious." She slid forward and off the table, stood for a moment, then toppled to the floor with a look of annoyance as her legs gave out under her.
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"No!" Miss America shouted, her voice raising in pitch in a way that seemed less like panic and more as though she didn't have control of her own voice somehow. "I'm all right, I promise," she told him, putting a hand to her throat. "I just need... a moment." She blinked several times and cocked her head to one side, then the other, flexing her fingers one at a time. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you," she told him carefully. "I was... not feeling well today. I've been working too hard." Raising her arm, she cautiously pushed the hair back from her face.
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In the main lab, Miss Americana was indeed stirring, but she didn't look entirely well. In fact, she didn't look entirely conscious, or even human. She was sitting up, but sloppily, head lolling and arms hanging limp, platinum hair falling over one eye. Her shapely legs peeked out from under the hospital gown but remained in place on the table, making her waist turn in a bizarre fashion as she looked at him. She raised her head for a moment, twitched spasmodically, then went limp again, only to repeat the whole thing again moments later. On the third try, she seemed to regain some control of herself, looking him in the eyes and raising an arm with some semblance of control in a wave.
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Gina's heart began hammering and skipping as he stared at her, looking as though he could see right through her. Instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. She pressed her back to the wall, fingers scrabbling against the drywall as though she'd somehow dig her way through. "N-nobody," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm nobody important. I think I hear Miss Americana waking up," she added desperately. She sent enough mental power to the robot to make it kick out a leg and bang the table, but couldn't marshall the resources for more. If he'd just go away, she could pull herself together and everything would be all right.
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"It was just... an accident," Gina stuttered, grasping futilely for some satisfactory lie. The sensation of being naked and vulnerable was enough to overwhelm thought, for all she was fully clothed and in her own stronghold. "Wake, I was supposed to wake her up from her nap, but I fell a-asleep first. I'm sure she'll wake up in a few minutes, I should go and get back to work..." She scrambled up from the mattress, but with Murdock's bulk taking up most of the room in the alcove and blocking the exit, rising only put her back against the wall.
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Gina stared up at Murdock, who was obviously on the edge of assuming his Harrier persona in the face of a suspicious stranger, and for a moment her immensely powerful mind was totally, terrifyingly blank. "I...I..." She remembered coming into the lab, of course. She'd been here three days now, performing badly needed upgraded and repairs to the robot. Miss Americana was sturdy and could perform a certain number of repairs while being inhabited, but not everything. Gina knew she should've spread out the work, or at least taken more time with it, but she'd been afraid that if she went home to sleep, she wouldn't be able to force herself back out of the house. It had been hard enough to do it once. So instead she'd pushed herself too hard, working till she was practically asleep on her feet. She'd planned to sleep an hour and be awake long before Harrier arrived. But here he was, staring at her.
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As soon as he touched her, the woman jerked awake, brown eyes flying open as she gasped in surprise. "Oh, Steve, you startled me!" she told him in a voice that wasn't familiar to him. She definitely sounded groggy. "I must have closed my eyes for a moment." She raised a hand and wiped the back of it across her mouth in a thoughtless gesture, then slowly lowered it, staring at her own hand in what seemed to be consternation.
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The door had been locked, but not with any real conviction. The residents of Freedom City were oddly willing to secure their interior doors with tiny locks that were more for show than anything else. It offered no resistance to Murdock's shove, allowing him access to the room. The storage area was much as he remembered it, boxes of parts and unused office furniture took up the front of the room, with a narrow open space leading back. The kit and the phone were in the back of the room, so he headed that way, his eyes adjusting to the dimness as he followed a faint light from that direction. It was only when he turned the corner into the shelter that he realized he wasn't alone here after all. The air mattress he'd seen on his previous visit was deployed but only half-inflated, sinking and bulging like a fallen souflee under the weight of its occupant. In the dimness Murdock saw the interloper was a woman, probably fairly young, with tousled hair and messy clothes that looked like they'd been slept in more than once. Even in sleep there were bags under her eyes, and a thin line of drool trailed from her mouth. She sprawled on her back with one arm over her head, dead to the world and totally oblivious to him.
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He knew that Miss Americana had been tired when he called her. He wasn't always the best at reading people, but he'd seen plenty of people working to exhaustion since he'd made his home on Earth-Prime. The beautiful scientist didn't get anything so crass as bags under her eyes, but she'd had distraction and weariness in her voice on the phone. Taking over ArcheTech had added another helping of responsibility to an already full plate, so it wasn't surprising she'd have a lot on her mind. Still, Murdock had never known her to shirk any of those responsibilities, even a visit from a friend who needed a tune-up. It was surprising, then, that no one answered his hails. He'd called only a few hours ago, surely she wouldn't have forgotten? Walking further into the lab, it was clear that someone was here or had been here recently. Lights were on and machines were running, and the air smelled like coffee. As Murdock continued, he nearly stumbled over Miss Americana, laying on one of her own lab tables. She was wearing a smock that looked like hospital gowns he'd seen here, and seemed to be sleeping. Her eyes were closed, her breathing very slow, but even.
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Koshiro looked towards the paper prison he'd created, then towards Corbin. "Cobalt Templar really wants to keep as many people alive as possible, on both sides," he told Bonda. "If the king were to, like, renounce his crown in front of everyone and say you're the winner, would that be enough for you to let him live and for things to be secure around here? Where we come from, it's not part of the rules of war to kill people after they've surrendered, most of the time. If he doesn't surrender, well, he's on his own then."
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Mara's chief of security was waiting when she stepped off the podium, since she'd refused to get much out of arm's reach during the rush of strangers that came with the opening of the new facility. Dressed in her trim gray uniform, Erin White was nearly invisible, indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. She much preferred it that way, easier to do her work. "That was good," she told Mara, who seemed like she could use it. "Spelled out the way it's going to be. You want me to clear the way back to your office?" Despite the refusal of questions, there were plenty of people obviously hoping for a few words with the young CEO.
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ic Can I Borrow A Cup of Adventure? (IC)
Electra replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in The North End
While the others were still occupied in the kitchen, Erin-Prime and Megan led Mark up the front stairwell, which was lined with family pictures. Near the bottom were the most recent shots, including Erin-Prime's graduation pictures, with the photos going backwards in time along with the ascent, all the way back to a toothless grinning baby who must have been Erin, to judge by the auburn fuzz on her mostly-bald head. They passed Megan's room, which was covered in soccer posters and Harry Potter memorabilia, and headed into Erin-Prime's room. As is the case with many college students, Erin's room had been emptied of some of its contents and personality when its occupant went off to school. Now there was room for Erin to sit cross-legged on the bed while Megan sprawled on the folded futon couch with the puppy on her lap "Show us something," Megan encouraged, looking like she was waiting for a magic show to begin. "Something cool." -
ic Can I Borrow A Cup of Adventure? (IC)
Electra replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in The North End
Erin-Prime gave Mark another warm smile. Despite his mercurial nature, when Mark wanted to be charming he was all but irresistible, and Erin-Prime didn't seem to be trying very hard anyway. "I'd love to see it," she said, standing up from the table with her cocoa untouched. "Maybe we can go upstairs where there's more room." "I want to see too!" Megan chimed in, clambering out of her chair before Mark could capitalize on his conquest. "Can you actually make an entire house, or do you have to just make parts of it and put it together? Can you make anything you want?" Erin-Prime glared at her interfering younger sister, but couldn't say anything in front of their current audience. Instead, she beckoned towards the stairway and started heading in that direction. At the table, Erin Keeley massaged the bridge of her nose with thumb and index finger. "Yes, I work at Nichelle's Niche downtown," Clarissa replied pleasantly to Trevor, sliding a helping of pancakes onto his plate and not turning a hair at her daughters' antics. "It's a fun job, I just love working with all the fantastic clothes she brings in, and finding the right look for a customer is very rewarding." Trevor knew, though Erin didn't talk about it much, that money was not in abundant supply in the White household these days, but at least Clarissa seemed to enjoy going back to work. "You said you're studying engineering, Trevor?" Roger asked mildly, turning the conversation back around. "That's a solid field. What do you plan on doing with it when you graduate?" -
Wander stared at the body a moment, her brow furrowing as she put her bat away. "I need gloves," she told Midnight, assuming correctly that the dark detective would have an extra pair on him. Slipping the black gloves over her hands, she crouched next to the bed and examined the body, manipulating the head and hands, pinching the skin, lifting the eyelids. Her face was a blank mask, a sign that whatever emotions she wanted to feel about this, she would feel later and in private. For now the body was just an object to be identified and examined, and it wasn't as though she hadn't seen plenty of corpses in her time. After a few thoughtful moments, Wander leaned back on her heels and looked up at the others. "It's a fake," she said flatly. "A good likeness, but that's not the girl who put on the show just now. And this corpse has been on ice and defrosted. It's not fresh, definitely not twenty-minutes fresh." She pushed herself to her feet, stripped off the gloves in a violent gesture that betrayed the inner turmoil. "Still a murder scene, but not the one it's supposed to look like."