Electra
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Freedom City Guidebook
Freedom City PBP: A How-To Guide
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Miss Americana rose into the air, motioning the civilians she'd been dealing with to get back towards safety. Most of them didn't need any urging. She flew in the direction of the erratic plant controller, blue and red lights beginning to play over her hands. "Willow," she called, "this needs to stop. You're not helping anyone." She suspected that her words were falling on deaf ears, and wondered darkly if this was 'cleansing' in the same sense that the Gorgon's merciless killing was 'preservation.' She drew up even with Willow, floating over the buildings of the West End. "Stop now," she said, "or we will have to stop you."
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"Of course," Miss Americana murmured, closing her briefcase and rising. "I know this is a difficult time for you. Take whatever time you need. We'll wait out in the hallway." She nodded to Murdock, then knocked on the reinforced door. An orderly opened it a moment later, allowing the beautiful paragon and the tattooed man to step out into the hallway. Once the door was closed again, Miss A let out a long breath and rubbed the back of her neck. "I hated to do it," she admitted, "but it had to be done. After everything he put us through, I didn't expect him to look so... broken." Her face was troubled as she looked back towards the door.
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Miss Americana gave the doctor a few moments with his thoughts, but eventually pressed on. Better to say everything that needed to be said in one go, rather than dragging things out. "I don't know how long you'll be here and incommunicado. That depends heavily on Scarab and the other psychics and empaths working on your case. When you do get out, I must ask you not to release any statements to the public or the press, or to attempt to come onto ArcheTech property without being cleared through proper channels and escorted. It's for everyone's safety, and for the well-being of the company. The sooner ArcheTech is dissociated from this event, the sooner it will begin to recover."
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Miss A's face softened with the first hint of sympathy for the doctor she'd shown since coming into the room. "Thank you, Murdock," she murmured. "He'll be well taken care of as long as necessary," she told Doktor Archeville. "I'll see to it that the funds are made available for his care." Murdock had the best of intentions, but she suspected his personal wealth wasn't going to allow for a lot of premium food or vet checkups. Privately, she was rather impressed at the former Omegadrone's show of initiative. "He'll be fine." She couldn't make the same assurance for Mona herself, not after the debriefings she'd read detailing Fulcrum's disappearance.
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"I'll see that it's taken care of," Miss A said neutrally, not needing to make any notes when her perfect recall was more than enough. "Is there anything you'd like done with your personal effects while you're in Providence?" she asked him. "I know you aren't allowed to have much here, but if there's anything that needs tending, I can arrange to have it done." She spared one glance for Murdock, still so silent in his corner. She supposed this wasn't his area of expertise. "Aside from Schloss Wissenschaft, the orbital facility sustained the most damage in the incident. Repairs are already underway, but will take some time. The Freedom City facility and several of the others escaped major damage." That lucky circumstance was mostly because she herself had infiltrated the computer systems and shut down the portals that were producing drones before other heroes had taken more brute force approaches, but there was no need to toot her own horn.
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She pursed her lips. "There have been substantial losses," she told him, "though I have hopes that a few key people can be lured back under new leadership. I was able to hang onto most of the metahuman researchers and their teams with promises of the moon and a couple of stars. That youngster from Claremont you just hired, Wander, she's gone. I did her exit interview, and you may want to speak with her yourself at some point, since you don't really need anymore superhero enemies. The entire staff in Germany have been furloughed or folded into other branches for the time being." She shrugged elegantly. "It's very bad. But it could have been worse. That's the theme of the day, really."
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As the battle waged on, Koshiro tossed down the bit of paper he'd been working with, letting it unfold into a paper airplane six feet long, with a wingspan almost as wide, He leapt aboard as it took off into the sky, riding it like a surfboard, and raised his hands to summon the swarm of paper cranes. As they swirled around him in a miniature blizzard, he locked eyes with Black Goat. "You seem like a nice girl and all," he said, "but a smart man once told me to never stick it in the crazy." He lowered his arms, sending the cranes at her in one whirling, flapping wave.
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Activating Flight outside the array for move action, taking to the sky. Using Crane Blast on Black Goat. 1d20+12=19 Oh well.
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"Good, good," Miss Americana murmured in response to his answer, tucking away the USB drive to take with her. "That will make things easier. As for the apologies, they are due less to me and more to others who were far more affected by your actions. I've compiled a list," she continued inexorably, "of individuals or survivors of individuals who were hurt or killed in the incident, as well as property lost and damaged. The insurance is already beginning to process claims, but I am assuming you will want restitution to be made on your behalf, perhaps a survivor's fund set up. Are there any other immediate or long term goals you want the company to be pursuing, besides attempting to remain solvent?"
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Wander slid out of the car almost reluctantly, spinning her bat to its full extension and following Mark through the rain and up to the posturing god-being. "It's been too long," she told Donar, her voice carrying over the noise of thunder. "In this dimension, the Nazis were defeated when our grandparents were young. You'd have to go to someplace like Erde to fight actual Nazis these days. This isn't really a good place or a good time." She held her bat in both hands, raised in a half-defensive posture that was ready to brace for a swing.
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Papercut goes on 12.
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Surprise briefly flickered across Miss A's lovely face, but her mind worked nearly as quickly as the Doctor's when he was in top form, and it was not hard to follow the logic. ArcheTech was a complicated enough entity that it would take a super-intellect to keep all the various balls in the air with any degree of success. In the current situation, having an immensely photogenic, quite popular public superheroine at the helm would also be an asset in battling the public relations nightmare. Just the thought of it was enough to give her enhanced intellect a hell of a headache. "I assume," she said quietly, "that the necessary documents are already on file with your attorneys. You've effected the transfer of authority to me in my legal capacity as the costumed superheroine Miss Americana?" Anything else would be a red tape nightmare likely to unravel her secret identity if she got anywhere close to it.
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The beautiful paragon reached into her briefcase and pulled out the envelope in question, passing it over to the fallen supergenius. It was still sealed, for all she'd passed it through a number of scanners to make sure there was nothing volatile or that could be used as a weapon concealed within. She made no mention of how or when she'd opened the safe, either. It probably wouldn't be good for Archeville's fragile mental health, she reasoned, if he were to know the full extent of the shambles his company's physical properties were in, to say nothing of the company's local and international reputation.
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"What?" Stesha asked, looking up at Heyzel in confusion for a moment before his words sunk in. Suddenly, the scene made more sense, even if there were far too many questions still unanswered for her liking. Getting to her feet, she gently guided the little girl over to where the burnt Grue was still laying. She was very grateful for the wall Gaian Knight had put up, but suspected its dubious privacy wouldn't last too long. "See, everyone is all right," she told the little girl. To the adult Grue, she gave a more stern, though still not hostile look. "We have some questions that we need you to answer," she told him firmly. "As long as you don't try and attack anyone, nothing bad is going to happen. What are you doing here?"
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"He may be a Grue," Fleur decided in a steady voice, "but he's injured and needs attention. Get some water for him," she instructed one of the medics. "Does anyone know what caused the fire?" Heyzel had done as much healing on the injured Grue as could be done for now, and Phalanx was keeping an eye out for any trouble. Joining Heyzel by the little girl, she knelt down on the ground, one hand on Ammy's back to steady the load. "It's all right, sweetheart," she murmured to the frightened little girl. "You're safe here and nothing is going to hurt you. My name is Fleur, and this is Freedom Angel. Do you know where your mommy and daddy are?"
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Koshiro took a hasty few steps backwards from the door even as he summoned his birds. They came fluttering from his bag and the pockets of his hoodie, till soon he was surrounded by a fluttering white cloud of paper. "Don't come any closer!" he called defiantly through the doors. "Young Freedom is here, and we're ready to kick some ass. You don't want any trouble, you'd best get back where you came from and leave this place alone." He clenched his hands into fists, ready to face whatever came through the door, willing himself to not yelp or scream or make any other embarrassing noises.
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Erin stayed close to Trevor as he navigated them through the niceties of high-class socialization with the ease of someone with a lifetime of practice. She smiled where appropriate, nodded as she listened to and filed away names and faces, and concentrated most of her attention on their surroundings. That was her specialty, after all, and for once having a detailed knowledge of the layout and all the exits and security areas of a hotel might actually come in handly. "You know," she murmured to Trevor as they strolled around, "I haven't been skiing in years. Maybe we should come back sometime in the winter."
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"Beatings, Doctor?" Miss A's voice was cool and detached as she sat down in the single visitor's chair. "Don't you think the grinding self-pity is rather unflattering to a man in your position? I'm hoping I don't need to recount for you the litany of deaths, injuries and damage caused by your unwillingness to face the potential stigma of mental illness." She folded that mile of legs, crossing them primly at the knee and smoothing her skirt. "I do take a share of the blame upon myself for not realizing you were unfit, as I know several others do as well. But that's not what I'm here to talk with you about." She picked up the briefcase. "ArcheTech is a company in its death throes. With you at the head and unable to lead, it's a matter of weeks, perhaps days, before the end. On behalf of the shareholders and employees, I'm here to ask for your resignation and succession plan."
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The click of high heels on tile echoed like gunshots in the long corridor outside Archeville's secure room as someone walked briskly down the hallway. A visitor, obviously, since the doctors and nurses wore rubber-soled sneakers that made no noise. As the steps came closer, a heaver, duller tread was audible as well, just before they stopped right outside his room. There was a low-voiced conversation, then the door opened to reveal one of his usual nurses. "You have visitors, VIktor," she told him cheerfully, before escorting her companions inside. Miss Americana stepped in first, striking and out of place against the white dullness in her tailored maroon and navy suit, her golden hair pinned back in an intricate bun. She carried a slim softsided briefcase and wore a grim expression. Behind her came Murdock, looking rather like rented muscle in a secondhand suit a size too small for comfort. "Doktor," she said courteously. "You're looking well, under the circumstances. How do you feel?"
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Miss Americana gave Jack and Jill a friendly wave, nodded to the others, then crouched down on her awning, bringing her closer to the crowd. She spent several minutes answering their questions as best she could, the soothing tone of her voice helping at least as much as the scanty answers she was able to provide. In an absolute sense, there were probably more efficient uses of her time, but people were afraid, and it was easier to stop them from rioting at all than to get things calmed down once they started. She even, with concealed amusement, signed a few autographs from the especially hopeful civilians in the throng. Some people clearly had faith things were going to be all right.
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Wander, who had been quiet even for her during the drive over, took her bat from its holster and held it in her clenched fingers as the car drew to a halt. "Do we have a plan?" she murmured to Midnight, watching the putative god and his blustering with eyes that were just a little too wide. It wasn't as though nerves weren't a natural reaction when faced by a powerful godling stomping around at the end of the world, but they'd already faced down the armies of Omega. What did she have to be afraid of? "Do we just go in and try to take him down?"
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Koshiro stopped in his tracks and listened to the stomping, and for a moment felt the intense urge to just run the hell away. What was he doing here, anyway? He was supposed to be getting training in powers he hardly knew how to use, not fighting villains and saving the Freedom League. What would his mom do if the world survived but she lost her other son? He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, then reached into his pocket. He was already here, and he'd just have to make sure not to die. From his pocket, he pulled a tiny paper frog, no more than a half-inch long or tall, and set it on the floor. The moment he pressed down on its butt, it began hopping, its tiny movements taking it soundlessly under the crack in the door. With the paper in his hands he folded a square with a frame around it, rolled a tiny set of rabbit ear antennae with his fingers, and waited.
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Stesha's eyes widened as she raced towards the scene and caught sight of the climbing flames, the screaming people. Her first instinct was to teleport in, rescue anyone who was still caught, but her hands were tied by the delicate bundle strapped to her chest. "Heyzel, can you help them?" she asked, her voice tense. "I can heal anyone who's been burned, just so long as you get them out alive! Over here!" she called, waving to the lead medic. "Bring the wounded over here, away from the fire zone!" Amaryllis was wailing full-throatedly now, but Stesha could do no more than give her a stroke on the back as an apology. Rest and food would wait a little while longer.
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Koshiro leapt out of the way just in time as Rustbelt tried to tag him with some nasty supertrap, his heart thudding against his ribs. "Fine!" he snapped at the villain. "You wanna see how I handle punks? Watch, this is cool." He opened the shoebox he'd had under his arm, and suddenly the air was full of the sound of flapping paper wings. Dozens, then hundreds of tiny birds flew out of the box, growing in size as they went, till they made a white cloud in the air. In one mass, they bore down on Cobalt Templar, pouring over him, spinning dizzily around him, till he was nearly obscured from view. Inside the mass, though, Corbin would notice that the birds left a narrow but precise band of clear space at eye level for him to see through, and though they flew so close he was occasionally brushed by a paper wing, not a single one actually tried to hurt him.