KnightDisciple

"I hope the meeting today isn't too boring. If nothing else you have access to enough info to keep you occupied. I think we'll get this wrapped up after the break." He paused, seeming to search for his words for a moment. "Tell me. Do you know one Lord Robert Harrow? An English gentleman, specifically." His expression was carefully neutral when he asked, and he tried to watch for her reaction, whatever it might be. He had a feeling there was some sort of "drama" in the past, and he hoped to not be too caught up in it when all was said and done. Probably a vain hope, though.

Gabriel closes his eyes with a sigh, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Yeah. We didn't have time for Miss A to jury-rig the EMP to be more directional, so it basically fried or shut off most everything on the island. They managed to get the backup systems online, and so the worst prisoners are locked up in power-dampening cells again. The rest are under guard if necessary. I'm sure they'd appreciate some AEGIS assistance, but things were stable when I left. As for "getting people out", like I said, I helped Miss Americana get back to her lab; she has the best facilities to care for herself and her unique physiology. The only other trip was a transport chopper taking the Harrier-bot to some other scientific acquaintances of Miss A who were in a better position to analyze things. Not like the prison really had the facilities or time for that." His expression softened slightly as Victory's visor retreated back. "I'm sorry if I was a bit snappy with you. It's just been a long day, and I've told this at least a half-dozen times. I frankly want to stop thinking about it. Miss A's fine, she's just taking care of herself. Harrier is one of the ones being rescued by the expedition that left earlier. At this point, we just have to wait and try to contact them again in a day or two."

February 28th, 2013 Templar's Forest Vault, Wharton State Forest, Near Freedom City Corbin looked around his vault one last time, to make sure everything was in order. He'd locked down the inner vault with the Red and Orange Rings. He'd made sure Trevor was keyed into the security system, per the unmarked package he'd dropped on the front door of the Hunter Mansion at high speed just after dawn (he was sure Midnight wouldn't suspect it too much, and it wasn't a time of day people would really notice him zipping around there). He'd set all the other systems on standby. He'd left a series of maps and notes behind on his work desk here, just in case, clearly marked and organized. He'd called Quo-Dis the previous night before going out to California to visit her one last time before he started his Quest. He blushed slightly at the thought, before smiling fondly. They'd settled into something of a...routine...he supposed. Sadly he'd have to break that. He looked at the small box sitting on his desk. Part of him knew it was probably still a bit early, but there was another part that was so sure of the future for both himself, and "they". Still, the Quest would give him time and perhaps perspective. Best not to rush things anyways. His parents, he'd spoken with two nights ago, and left a note this morning. They didn't entirely agree with him stepping out of school for the rest of the semester, and possibly the next one, but couldn't deny that he had good reasons for it. And his grades had been exemplary, even with all of the hullaballoo the last few months. He had promised he'd come by the house once in a while if he had the chance, but let them know said chances might be few and far between. His other friends had received voicemails, e-mails, letters, or the like, all letting them know he would be out of touch for long periods, all for the Quest. With a sigh, he hefted his travel bags over his shoulders (light as a feather as far as he was concerned) and walked to the heavy vault door. He keyed in the code, and the door smoothly swung open; he was outside in a blink, and the door closed before making the whirring sound that it was locked down. The sod covering it meant that, to the outside observer, the whole thing appeared to be a small grassy hill, nothing more. "Time to go find some Rings. Guess I'll go start in Masada." He started on his journey, still clad in his regular clothes as he lifted into the air. But before he could get very far, a tear in space ripped itself open in front of him by perhaps a foot. Before he could react, he was screaming through the portal to somewhere, his voice echoing back. "What the-" Anything else was cut off as the portal snapped shut, and Cobalt Templar was gone. Not just from the forest or the country, not just from the planet or galaxy, but from the entire universe, to some other dimension where things were...less pleasant. The birds resumed their singing not long after he'd left. It was a bright day outside, after all.

"I would think this room would be proof enough of our concept, after all." Magnus was...not quite "perturbed", but moving closer every moment. Several members of the Summit Transnational group seemed eager to get on board with the flexi-screen tech that KST Engineering was, even now, working on. But some were being Nervous Nellies and apparently didn't like new-fangled ideas so suddenly. "After all, the table and walls are coated in screens that are a quarter-inch thick and need no "back end" hardware; that quarter-inch contains the entire screen mechanism. But if that's not enough, then I guess It's okay to point out I already have a prototype on my person." With a flourish, he pulled out his palm PC, quickly pulling the two sides apart to deploy the screen, which he then flexed to about 45-degree angles. "No, it's not a totally free-folding material, not yet, but it's an incredible step. This model's a bit expensive, but my engineers are working on ways to make the material even thinner, more flexible, stronger, and cheaper. I can promise you we will achieve all of those objectives. The question isn't "Can Katastrof & Sorenson Technologies do this", it's "Does Summit Transnational want to be on board when it's accomplished". I'm more than willing to enter a joint venture, but I need utter confidence from my investment partners before I'm willing to sign such a deal." He folded the PDA and tucked it away with a dramatic sigh. "Let's break for refreshments. Bathrooms are down the hall, just follow the wall panels, and any of these doors lead to break rooms with various items for your hunger and thirst." Much of the room got up and filed out the doors, a few staying behind to chat. The Baron surveyed the scene before quietly walking over...to Megan. He gave her a smile and offered his hand. "I don't believe I caught your name in the introduction period, Miss..." Of course, he knew her name from the file he'd been sent over, but it was the easiest, most polite way to try and introduce himself and try to find out a bit more about her connection to the...oddities...of the day before.

Sunday Morning, February 24th, 2013 Abbey of Saint Marcellin Champagnat, Sanctuary Carson had been sequestered in the spartan room set aside for him in the monastery for a couple of days now. He'd been shaken ever since he'd seen regular shopkeepers, not just criminals, flinching in fear at his mere presence, voicing doubts about his identity and intentions. He'd made it through the rest of the week, but had barely patrolled. He'd checked with the League and the police, and there were no real complaints or concerns there. Still he wrestled with himself. He questions his methods, his voice, his posture, his attire, searching for some valid reason for the people to fear him. To act as if he might strike them down. Nothing came to mind. He shed tears, he prayed, he paced. And still he was haunted. Finally, one of the senior monks quietly came into his room. His long beard was grey bleaching into white from the son, and his hands were rough from working the gardens and the fields most of his life. He sat down in the second wooden chair in the room, on the other side of the desk from the "contemplative" Carson. "You are moping. You should go outside. Perhaps speak with the Russian woman who actually has sense in her head." "But-" "You mope for no reason. People fear you because of something you never did and still do not do. You take all care to not be the thing they fear. If they still fear or revile you, it is there business." Carson opened his mouth. "We are monks in the Catholic church. You think such sentiments are foreign to us? You dishonor God's calling in your life by expressing such doubt. You cannot help it if some people are stupid and panicky creatures. That is their business, not yours. Go, Fly. Get some air." "Part of me wonders the wisdom of some of you knowing who I am." "We love this land and these people. None of us intend to leave here, barring something very unusual. We are discrete, and I've talked more in here than I have in weeks. Your secret is safe from those you wish it safe from. You need a place to be you, not either of the fronts you have built for yourself." Carson went to speak, and the monk made a "zip it" gesture with a smile and twinkle in his eyes. A "shoo" gesture had the redheaded man up and out the door, and in the air soon after. Three hours later, he decided Brother Carville had been right, and that the fresh air really did help.

Evening, February 21st, 2013 Southside, Freedom City It had been a fairly calm month and change; it seemed like the Day of Wrath had a lot of the city walking on eggshells. Even with Gabriel's own personal efforts to aid the Freedom League in getting the word out and clarifying what had happened (which is to say "evil robot impersonators killed people, not heroes gone bad"), more than a few people were nervous, and the criminal world was still trying to figure out what it could and couldn't manage. Tonight a small gang was trying its luck in the "territory" of the city's white-clad sound-flinging hero; a group of maybe 10 people were simultaneously robbing 3 different local stores on one of Southside's streets, and the police were critical minutes away. Thankfully for the sake of those businesses, help was considerably closer. "It's honestly getting hilarious how many of you small-time gangs think you'll somehow slip beneath the notice of any and all heroes in this part of town. I'm just one of like a dozen who stick to this area half time, kids." The nearest group of gang members turned...and all dropped their guns, abject terror written on their faces. Considering Gabriel was just floating there, arms crossed over his chest, that was an accomplishment. He blinked in surprise at the reaction. Of course, one of the other gang members took that moment to shoot him, hitting him square in the chest...where the bullet promptly deformed against his silver armor, not even giving him a bruise. "Are some of you new in town or something?" When the last group somehow pulled out a laser rifle to point right at his head, he sighed. "Never mind." A few sonic blasts later, all the armed robbers were laying on the ground out cold (or nearly so), and the others were huddled against the closest wall as if to run away from him. The angelic hero was visibly perplexed. When even the shop-keepers seemed nervous, he actuall grew a little sad. "Why are you all afraid? You know me! I mean, for saint's sake I wasn't even replaced with a robot!" Part of him wanted to cry when just that slight show of frustration had the shop-keepers stepping back. "We only have your word on that, really, Mr. Gabriel." "I would say my actions, both on the Day Of Wrath and right here, are testimony enough. I'm sorry it's not enough for you.." "We...it's been barely more than a month, Mr. Gabriel. Some of us lost people that day, unlike you heroes who lost no one." That struck him silent, shock, sadness, and even a bit of anger warriing across his face. Just ast the police pulled up, he took a couple steps and sped off into the sky...

Wednesday Morning, February 13th, 2013 Catholic Church in Southside It wasn't quite time for the morning Ash Wednesday ritual, but Carson was already in the church. While he'd been confident the night before, his sleep had been plagued by nightmares and doubts and worry. He'd come here try and sort through it all before other people came and the service began. He didn't have class until mid-afternoon today, anyways. He was seated on one of the front pews when he heard and felt someone sit down next to him. Before he could look, the person spoke. "You seem...troubled...my son." It was the parish priest, and older gentleman who, oddly enough, sported an eyepatch and a cane (along with a pronounced limp even with the cane's help). His one good eye was curious. "Just...bad dreams, Father. Doubts. About the future. About the past. What I'm doing. Where I'm going." "Well. I don't think you're the first person through the door with those, or the last. And today's something of a day of reflection already, isn't it? But it's a season of both contemplation and rebirth." "I know, it's just...No, I'm sorry. It's not really something I can just...talk about." "What, that you're one of the heroes in the city?" Carson blinked in shock as the priest grinned a bit. "I didn't get the eyepatch from slipping on a banana peel, son. I wasn't always a minister. There was a time the Church had to help stand against some dark, dark things in the world. I met a few men and women who stepped out into the world as champions. After a while, you gt to where you can at least guess at that in someone. Your reaction sealed the deal. Don't worry, I don't know any specifics, and I won't pry any further. Your secret's safe with me, though you might want to work on your poker face." "I, uh, never was any good at the game. Terrible luck." "I suppose if you're going to have poor chances at anything, poker's better than other things." "Um. Yes. I guess so. Just...Why did you approach me?" "You're angsting all over my chapel, son. I all but heard it from my office. Why do you think there's no one else in here right now? You're lucky it's a while until service, or I might have to just rap you upside the head. Instead you get to talk things out." "I wasn't angsting-okay, fine, I was. I apologize. Just...I don't know. Yesterday, everything seemed right and good and on track. But...I keep flashing back to a month ago. Regrets for not noticing some things, and not being fast enough to stop other things. It could have been worse, so much worse. But even still, part of me wonders if I'm losing my edge." "That mess caught every hero in the city by surprise. Since I feel safe assuming you are neither God, nor one of His angels, you being unable to know everything at once is pretty much par for the course. It doesn't sound like you didn't do your part. You save lives every day, yes? Then unless you're genuinely slacking off, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. It's a disservice to you, and a disservice to the Lord. He's the one who put you here to do what you do, m'boy. Stop moping so much, unless that's your super-power." "It's not, unless you ask my girlfriend sometimes." Carson seemed less stressed now, and cracked a smile at his own joke. "Yes, well, that's another matter between you, her, and the Lord. I'm not stepping into that minefield, no sir." "There are days I kind of think the same, Father. And...thank you. That's what I needed to hear." "Sounds like I've done my duty for the day, then! Oh, wait, we have service today, don't we. Ah well, the burdens of life continue." With a smile, the priest stood up (with a bit of help from Carson) and headed back toward his office. The young Irish hero, meanwhile, went outside to get a few breaths of fresh air before taking part in the day's ritual. All in all, it was a good Wednesday so far.

February 13th, 2013, 8:45 AM Katastrof Castle, World Headquarters for Katastrof & Sorenson Technologies It would have been hard for Megan to miss the rather impressive http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/uploads/gallery/album_5/gallery_569_5_13419.jpg, which also (conveniently for him) served as the world HQ of his company. It was a fusion of "old" and "new" that surprisingly worked. The whole township surrounding it had traces of that same aesthetic, as the various old-style homes showed solar panels or other low-profile technology. The valley area surrounding the castle and township was beautifully dusted in snow, but not as buried as other portions of the country at this time. They were far enough inland that when she got off of the helicopter, there wasn't a trace of salt spray in the air; the air was clean, crisp, and just a bit chilly. *********************************************************************************** The interior of the conference room was all new (which made sense, since it was in one of the gleaming towers clustered to one side of the property); the conference table itself seemed to serve as a computer screen, as well as having discrete plugs for the individual items of every seat. The chairs themselves subtly adjusted to the shape of the occupant for maximum comfort. The room had one wall dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows, while the other 3 walls seemed to be giant display screens that currently projected a view from the other 3 directions around them. Combined with the holoprojectors on the ceiling casting the image of the lazy clouds overhead, it gave the impression the meeting was happening on top of the small skyscraper, rather than a few floors from the top and enclosed on every side. Of course, the lack of wind and the comfortably warm temperatures gave away the illusion, but it was an interesting take on a "screen saver". After a few minutes allowing the delegation and some of the assistant executives of KST to prepare themselves, the windows suddenly tinted over, the wall went blank, and the ceiling's holoprojectors somehow managed to both give the room plenty of ambient light and give the impression of an almost entirely flat black surface. Suddenly, the room was a stark, dark cube, other than the silhouette of light that was the door, highlighting the sudden presence of one Baron Magnus Vilhelm Katasrof, business mogul and scientific powerhouse. He strode in, hands clasped behind his back, face neutral as he surveyed the room, halting when he reached the head of the table, his gaze casting over all present. Megan might notice that, for perhaps 5 seconds extra, his gaze lingered on her, and his eyes narrowed incrementally. His body language didn't change, so it wasn't like he was angry about her presence. More like he was...checking a box on a checklist. Finally, he'd seen everyone and he settled back into his (ever so slightly fancier) chair, leaning back with his hands clasped in front of him. "While I have an utterly perfect memory, I like hearing these things in someone else's words, so. May I ask the honorable delegates from Summit Transnational to outline the reason for their presence here today? I want to make sure we're all working on the same set of notes, after all."

Tuesday Evening, February 12th, 2013 Carson Keefe's Southside Apartment Originally, Carson was going to be spending his meal tonight out on the town with Sonya, or at least going out to a nice restaurant. But she'd been called out on an emergency somewhere down South, and while it wasn't something that required Gabriel's presence ("Putting aside how bloody suspicious that would be, I can do just fine on my own you thick-skulled Irishman."). She'd be busy until evening Mass tomorrow. So he'd settled for delivered Chinese food. He'd finished what he felt like for the moment, and was currently gazing out the window while he contemplated having dessert. 'Hm. Not usually one for thinking about "heathen Americans" like some of my kin, but I do sometimes wonder if they realize just what their Mardi Gras is really supposed to lead into...Still. Their loss. I'd have given up more this year, but between how many calories I need for my powers, and my occasional "need" to get fast food because of work and patrols building up...' After all, alcohol was extremely common to be set aside during Lent, chocolate wasn't quite enough of a staple, and pork wasn't kosher (though he didn't really follow kosher), on top of being the meat he ate the least of anyways. He'd tried a more thorough fast last year, and it had given him trouble because he seemed to constantly be hungry. 'I guess it's good that my mind's calm enough that I can worry about what I'm fasting from. Part of me can hardly believe it's only been a month since the Day. Another part wishes it was years ago to make it fainter in my mind...The important part is that Steve, and the others who were taken, are all safe. I wish I could have gone, but it sounds like they wouldn't have needed me there...Not much sound out in space.' He smirked at the thought. "One of the few places my gifted voice won't work, I suppose..."

"What about the, how did you say it, "American Bravado" from a couple of hours ago?" Carson snorted, smiling just a bit. It seemed speaking his reasons for his feelings helped him come to grips with them better. "It was the American Poster Boy Hero, Victory. He's a good man, gone through some terrible times to be a great hero. But every once in a while, he can kind of show his stripes, as it were. He had barreled up on me, demanding we "walk and talk" so he knew what happened. I think perhaps he was annoyed he wasn't able to be there. I would have appreciated the backup, but...I think it's best he wasn't. That EMP would have left him in terrible shape. I gave him the short version. I think I was annoyed that he didn't seem to care about what shape I was in, and instead just wanted to know how things "went down"." "You know how AEGIS can get with their officers." "That's why I wasn't more annoyed." They fell into silence for a couple of minutes, the two of them clearly letting the stress just fade from their minds and bodies. "Thank you. For being here. Listening. Not laughing." "You forget I'm a combat medic sometimes. I've seen plenty worse than a crying Irishman. Though it's certainly a sight I won't soon forget." "Now see, some men might take exception to a remark like that." "But you're not some men, are you?" "Not really, I suppose." She left not long after, and Carson was shortly asleep in his own bed. While later nights would see him revisit the terrible events of the island on the Day Of Wrath, this night he slept deeply and in peace.

It took Carson 10 minutes to get to the point he was truly responsive and able to steadily respond. Sonya used the towel to pat his face dry and poured them both mugs of coffee. They sat at his small dining room table, Carson staring down, Sonya calmly looking at him with just a touch of expectation. Finally, he spoke. "Today was...very tough. I mean, sure, I'm tired, but I've been in big scraps before. Though...a whole prison of hardened criminals, all out for blood and revenge, most of them with powers...It was hard. Scary. I think there were at least a half-dozen times I was near-positive I'd be dead. Sometimes I just was better in the end, and a couple times the guards saved my skin. I think their casualties were absurdly light, all told. But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that moment before the EMP when I thought a man I consider a friend had killed 3 men in cold blood, was about to kill the whole island, and I was going to have to take his life just to stop him. I didn't really think about it at that moment, when I was striking him with my spear, but now I can't shake that moment of...just despair. And then it turns out it was a bloody robot, and the real Steve isn't bad or dead, and he's off somewhere else. But I had to spend critical moments thinking all of that...And there wasn't really much I could do. Miss Americana's the one that stopped him. It. But she was..." He stopped, sipping his coffee to cover his hesitation in how to express this. "Injured. I had to get her to a safe spot, fight the prison, then finish getting her off the island. I...well, suffice to say, I can't exactly talk much about that. Not my place to, anyways. I just...You know, my heart breaks for her now. She's lonely, I think. Even with the people she has in her life. But there's nothing I can do to help. Not right now. Maybe one day." He sipped, and Sonya sat back and pondered.

It wasn't more than half an hour later that there was a knock at his apartment door, and Carson got up to answer. A brief check with both his ears and his eyes (the former by virtue of his natural abilities, the latter by virtue of his peephole) confirmed it was his long-time girlfriend. He unlocked and opened the door, greeting her with a tired smile and a slight bow. "Please, do come in, my dear lady." "If you start singing from that movie with a British accent, I might just smack you, you silly Irishman." As the door closed behind her, his voice lifted in a thicker-than-normal Irish accent. "With a Little Bit O' Luck by Alfred The Lord above gave man an arm of iron So he could do his job and never shirk. The Lord gave man an arm of iron-but With a little bit of luck, With a little bit of luck, Someone else'll do the blinkin' work! The three With a little bit...with a little bit... With a little bit of luck you'll never work!" Sonya blinked. While Carson was often "ornery", especially when tired, something seemed...off. "Carson, are you alright?" Carson made a dismissive wave of his hand as he walked over to the coffee machine in his kitchen area. "Told you. I'm in one piece, good guys have won the day, everything's fine. I'm tired and wired, that's all. Do you want some coffee?" "Yes, but I wasn't talking about your physical health, or how the day went. Are you alright emotionally?" "Why wouldn't I be?" "You're shivering slightly. Your breath is slightly ragged. And this." She slowly reached over and wiped a single tear from the left side of his face. "I...." Carson shakily stepped back from the coffee machine...and collapsed to the floor, silent tears running down his face. Sonya calmly got a softer dish towel from one of the drawers and sat down next to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. She said nothing, simply giving him time to think and vent.

Perhaps it depends on the "breed" of vampire? Some can be cured like that, but some carry a greater risk. I mean, Comrade Frost is rather different than Avenger, right? Also, perhaps some want to stay that way to try and, essentially, be a stabilizing force (again like Avenger). Others might be scared to change, because they've been a vampire their whole centuries of life. Perhaps some are so old if they change, they die. And they don't want to die.

Well, does Victory have enough Sense Motive or Bluff to beat a 60? If so make the roll. If not, sadly, he totally believes the parts that aren't the whole truth (which is pretty much "The Parts About Miss Americana", everything else is the (compressed) truth).

Using Ultimate Bluff for an automatic 60 on his Bluff. EDIT: Sorry, should mention that he's running his "Super Charisma Mode" during this moment. Why is he bluffing? Because he knows what actually happened to Miss A in particular, but he's not telling Victory that, and I want it to be clear as day he's not. 8-)

Gabriel seems unimpressed by the mention of patrol. "The other heroes can likely manage without us anyways." He raised his right brow very slightly as he got a glimpse into the world through Victory's eyes, though he was...concerned...about what information he might have rattling around in his network. And he was sure the microphone icon show was for his benefit. It didn't mean he thought what was being said wasn't be recorded somewhere, and it didn't mean he thought he could just speak secrets to this man. Gabriel barely knew him, and some secrets weren't his to tell. All of this flashed through his mind in the barest of moments before he continued to speak. "I met with Harrier outside of Blackstone. We went down to one of the psych wards. Met with a Shadian Steelgrave clone. Miss Americana was present doing some other repairs, and ended up assisting our questioning. Mostly just goading him. Then...at the same time the other replacements around the city went berserk, not-Harrier killed Steelgrave, set off the fire alarm that opened all the cells, and then went down toward the reactor. Killed two guards on his way toward it. Miss Americana and I followed. We struck some blows, but he damaged the reactor. To stop him from destroying the whole island, Miss Americana called down a large-scale EMP burst centered on that room. It shut down the prison, and it shut down what turned out to be a robotic duplicate of the hero known as Harrier. Miss Americana was injured in the process. I went back up to help pacify the prison. I did so. I helped Miss Americana get off-site discretely, as news crews weren't what we wanted to deal with, and I made sure the fried robot Harrier was delivered to some experts. I believe said experts helped trace back the signals on said robots, as well as working on a rescue mission. I thought I saw some odd-looking ship over the Bay earlier, so they've quite possibly gone on their mission already." He shrugged and spread his hands in a "what are you going to do?" sort of gesture. "Congratulations. You know what I saw. I'm not giving you a blow-by-blow on the prison because I'm tired and I don't want to go back through that already, not with you, Victory. The situation was, is, handled. I'd wager the real Harrier will be back in town in a couple days at most, and Miss Americana will be recovered from her injuries soon enough. Oh, and I'm not heavily injured. Thanks for asking, your concern's touching." There may have been a slight touch of sarcasm to his voice as he spoke the last couple of sentences.

"I'd say The Lab; they seem like enough of a "central hub" that they could forward the appropriate things on to Archetech, AEGIS, or whoever. Something of a neutral party, as it were." He turned to Bee-Keeper, and his helmet actually smiled. Which...wasn't a completely reassuring sight, but still, it was the thought that counted? "Yes. We won. We stopped them from even getting the weapon to their launch vehicle, let alone getting it to orbit. We wrecked the weapon beyond repair. We claimed a large facility from them. And best of all, we ensured they don't have access to the same data, either via their own databanks, or via their various victim companies. I'm quite sure the security loopholes exploited these past few weeks will be closed by tomorrow at the latest. The Foundry agents themselves are free, but we have information on their capabilities and constructions sitting with us right here. We might not be able to shut the whole Foundry down, but between these two ladies and their companies, as well as Baron Katastrof's resources, I would wager they'll be hampered for a while. They'll try something again at some point, but it won't be this." He looked around speculatively for a moment, before continuing. "I thought we worked pretty well together today, especially for having been "thrown together" in less than half an hour. We should at least make sure all of us can get in contact with each other in the future. Maybe even look at working together on other issues that pop up. We technological heroes ought to try to stick together, hm?"

Magnus blinked, considering the information, before a grin almost split his face in half. "So....we're sitting on a collection of one of the best conductor-capacitors in existence? This...this is incredible! Forget what this could do for high-end electronics! The capacitor nature, where it can hold a charge effectively forever, and that charge is vastly more effective than you'd think it would be! The applications...We could use this in advanced prosthetic devices of all sorts, eliminating the need for batteries or other power sources. Worst case, you set up a discrete "charging port" in an unobtrusive location, or even just directly beam the power into the prosthetic! If we cut out the power space, we could devote everything to the interface, and the replication of original function! It could vastly improve the lifespan of some battery types! The best part is, while silver is rare, it's not that rare, and even better, in a decade or two when we can start asteroid mining it'll be a pretty common material... Think of it, gentlemen. Even if literally nothing else today bears fruit, having so many samples of computronium and this Silver allotrope to study and eventually replicate on our own terms could prove incredibly revolutionary for the human race. It could help us step onto the galactic stage one day as equals, instead of the clients of some foreign power!"

"Well, the general motif sounds SPECTRE-ish, but the whole "underwater base and a guy who wants to remake humanity" smacks of some combination of The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker. We had better keep an eye open for a guy with metal teeth." Gabriel's face was completely serious as he spoke, despite the seemingly-absurd content. "That said, besides not breathing water, I'd be worried about the mutagen getting out into the water itself. It seems the sort of situation that could prove...unpleasant. So, are we thinking Omen and Silver Spider will clear the way, while the rest of us deal with the more...troublesome...metahumans, and the AEGIS agents make sure the prisoners are secured?"

First, I'll bring up the suggested "Gabriel has a singing contest with a demon" idea, though at this point it's more in the territory of a Vignette. Unless....we did a Hero Band Versus Demon Band? 1.) Sounds like an Awesome idea. Sort of a dark echo of Graduation day. The Prime!Heroes caught up in it are left trying to figure out what to do! Do they fight against the Terminus, and thus aid the Cancerverse? Do they fight Universal Cancer and thus aid Entropy? Or do they somehow find a way to fight both? 2.) Interesting. I can't remember, does the Pact explicitly extend beyond Earth? Either way, it seems primed for our Magical heroes! 3.) Oho! Now there's an interesting take, especially with the Silencer, who's a pretty scary guy when he hits his stride! 4.) An interesting idea, though it sounds a lot like House of L. That said, the "flavor" is at least a bit different, so there's potential! 5.) Haha, pulp scifi, cool. So, definitely more of the "Space Opera" feel than anything else? As for Dakana vs Atlantis, what factor or factors would cause said tension? As I recall, Dakana's landlocked, so it's not like one can immediately encroach on the other. Is an outside party causing said tensions? Perhaps....TYPHOON?