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"Confidentiality" Stesha had never been to ArcheTech's main lab before. It was a very impressive, almost intimidating place, even more so because today she was here in her civilian clothes. Her green hair, pinned up in braids and rings close to her head, and surrounded by flowers, was the only obvious sign of her metahuman origin. Besides that, she looked like any other woman in a flowing pink blouse and elastic-waist jeans. The nice receptionist put her somewhat at ease, giving her a pass and directing her to the arrows that would lead her to her destination. After a quick bathroom detour, Stesha headed up in the elevator, following the arrows that led her to a small side laboratory that looked somewhat like a normal doctor's examining room, except for a few extra large pieces of equipment around. It was also empty, which she hadn't exactly expected. She stepped inside anyway and found a note sitting on the bed. "Sorry I'm a little delayed, please get into the robe and wait just a moment." Stesha sighed and did as requested, stripping and neatly folding her clothes, then slipping into the robe and tying it closed. She sat down on the end of the paper-covered exam bed and covered herself with the paper towel sheet, then hugged her arms to her abdomen and waited in the quiet humming of the machinery. She hoped Doc was right about this referral. The wait wasn't long, much to Stesha's relief. In just a couple of minutes, there was a light tap on the door, and then a beautiful woman in a white lab coat walked in. A seriously beautiful woman, and if Stesha hadn't been used to dealing with Moira, her jaw might have dropped. The doctor closed the door and took out a fancy-looking iPad with a lot of extra technical baubles attached to it, and gave Stesha a friendly smile. "Hello," the blonde said, "I'm Miss Americana. You must be Fleur de Joie? I understand you asked Doctor Archeville for a female metaphysician?" Miss Americana did some sizing up of her own, looking over her new patient. She certainly looked the part of the earth mother, with her green, flower-bedecked hair, dirt-edged fingernails, and cutely guileless face. That face was a little green as well, but she couldn't tell at a glance if that was normal or if it were an offshoot of Fleur's current situation. Only one way to find out. "That's right," Stesha replied, "but you can call me Stesha. Doctor Archeville says that you're very good, and I thought I would just feel more comfortable with a woman doctor for this, you understand?" "Yes, of course," Miss A reassured her, with a totally believable smile that she didn't entirely feel. She knew more about medicine and certainly more about life science than most doctors, but she'd never actually conducted a proper examination of a living human being before. But a day of practice for her was equivalent to a year of study for the average human, so she felt reasonably prepared. Mostly. "This is a very special time for you, and I want you to be comfortable. Or as comfortable as possible while you're wearing a paper gown, anyway," she added with a wink. "Yes, that's sort of a limiting factor," Stesha grimaced. "Do I really have to wear this? It's sort of... drafty." "Sorry," Miss A told her sympathetically. "I have to do a quick pelvic check in a few minutes, so you need to wear the gown." "Oh God." Stesha's grimace deepened. "Are you serious?" "It's very important," Miss A assured her. "I need to check and make sure your cervix is tightly closed and in the right position, and get a couple of swabs. It won't take long. If it makes you feel any better, the table has already gotten your weight, temperature and blood pressure, so we've skipped the entire first part of the exam right there." "I guess, a little," Stesha allowed. "Just don't tell me how much I weigh. I don't even want to know." "No problem," Miss A told her, "but I will say that you've got nothing to worry about so far. You said you think you're about thirteen weeks, is that correct? When was the first day of your last period?" "The first or second of September," Stesha replied, with the air of someone who had long since worked out the answer to that all-important question. "That's really why I didn't notice for awhile, the beginning of October and November were both so crazy, I didn't even think about it till sometime in the first week of November." Miss A nodded and did a few calculations on her pad. "You're exactly right then, you're at thirteen weeks and four days now, with a due date of June 2. Though that's a ballpark, you have to understand. Those can be off by as much as two weeks in either direction." "Oh, I know," Stesha said with great feeling. "My mom is a midwife, so she's drummed that into me thoroughly. I want her to do most of my care if that's possible, but I want to get a clean bill of health first, before we tell them anything. I'm not quite human anymore, you know?" "That seems sensible," Miss A agreed. "How have you been feeling? Any dizziness, nausea, heartburn, insomnia, food aversion?" "Not as much now," Stesha told her, furrowing her brow in concentration. "Still pretty sleepy and hungry, a lot more so than usual. Generally my power allows me to go without when I want, but not anymore. But the nausea's mostly gone away, and I only had a couple of dizzy spells ever." "That sounds very normal," Miss A said approvingly, making a few notes on her pad. "Are you taking a vitamin and getting plenty of water? You said your appetite has been good, what are you eating?" "Everything I can get my grubby little hands on," Stesha admitted with a laugh. "I'm trying to eat plenty of fruits and veggies, drink a lot of milk, but the other night I sent my fiance out at three in the morning, in costume no less, to buy me another box of Rice Krispie Treats cereal. I think I've eaten a case of it by now. But it's vitamin-fortified!" she added, looking imploringly for Miss A's approval. "There are probably worse things you could be eating right now," Miss A allowed with a chuckle, "but sugary cereal is not going to take the place of a good prenatal vitamin. Why don't you lie back, and I'll let the sensors take a look at you before we do anything else. They'll be able to tell me what your internal chemistry is up to, and anything we might need to watch out for. We'll save the rest of it for last." She wasn't looking forward to that part any more than her patient was. "All right," Stesha agreed with a sigh, laying back against the bed with her head on the flat foam pillow. "I'm a little cold," she admitted. "Is there a thermostat in here?" "No problem," Miss A assured her. "I'll take care of it." Maybe it was out of some kind of nascent guilt for misrepresenting herself, but Miss A made sure to take good care of her patient. She dimmed the overhead lights and bumped up the thermostat, covering Stesha with a permeable sheet that the sensors could look through easily before retreating to the booth to take readings. As an afterthought, she turned on the ambient speakers to the soothing channel the company used in the wellness rooms for scientists in sort need of naps. Relaxing chime music played softly as the scanners went to work, checking over the prone superheroine's unique body chemistry. It was interesting enough work to hold Gina's attention, even as the scans revealed Stesha relaxing into a little nap on the table. The plant controller's body chemistry was very strange, but seemed stable and in balance for what it was. Gina wished sorely for a set of baseline readings, but apparently Doc had never managed to talk her onto one of his lab tables before today. She'd have to work with what she had, but it all looked pretty promising. As she worked, using the robot's senses and hands to access and interpret the data, Gina acknowledged to herself how much she actually enjoyed doing this sort of thing. The engineering was her first love, and what she was best at, but she liked helping real people, live people like this as well. Maybe that's why she'd been drawn to the idea of building medical prostheses in the first place. She didn't want to waste time in medical school or anything like that, but maybe it was time to improve her knowledge of the field even more. Miss A spent long enough looking over the readings for Stesha to get a restful little nap, waking gradually as the lights came up over a period of a minute or two. She yawned, disoriented for a moment, then looked around to see the labcoat-clad heroine coming around the partititon. "Mm, I guess I fell asleep there. How do I look?" she asked, a little nervously. "I don't have a set of baseline readings to go off," Miss A began, "but what I'm seeing now looks good. You both seem to be very healthy and doing just fine. I see a strong heartbeat and good blood flow. You can hear it too, over the microphone." She pressed a button, and suddenly the air was full of a fast, swooshing patter that sounded like a water pump working at full capacity. "Wow," Stesha said with a silly grin. "That's great. That's amazing. Wait till I tell D- Dark Star. He's going to be over the moon. Maybe literally." She laughed, closing her eyes to listen to the sound until Miss A deactivated the speakers. "It's all really good to hear. I feel so much better. Better enough to even be ready to get the pelvic over with." "It's good news," Miss A agreed, "but I think you really should get some continued monitoring here, just to be on the safe side throughout. I'm sure you'll be most comfortable doing most of it with your mom, but we have the equipment here to check up on your unique physiology. I want to make sure everything keeps looking as good as it does today." The talking helped to distract her as she got set up, enough of her mind on her work to let her be competent, but not enough to let her think too much about it. "All right, now scoot to the edge of the bed and put your feet in the stirrups." "I guess that's a good enough compromise," Stesha said, a little reluctantly, even as she moved to comply. The pelvic exam was about the same as she remembered, uncomfortable but fast, and then it was done and she could sit up, as quickly as possible. "Uck." "But now it's done," Miss A reminded her, hiding her own squick behind a perfect professional smile. She was just glad Stesha hadn't looked up to see her face. "The results will be back in a week or so, and I'll let you know if there's anything to worry about. In the meantime, get a good vitamin regimen going, and make sure to keep up with exercise at whatever level you feel comfortable with. And congratulations, you and Dark Star are very lucky." "I know," Stesha said, her reservations melting away into a brilliantly happy smile. "We're the luckiest people in the world. I'm so excited! Thank you so much for your help, Miss Americana. I really felt very comfortable with you as my doctor." "I'm glad," Miss A replied. "Just let me know if you have any questions or if anything comes up. My phone is always available." She left to allow Stesha to get dressed, waiting till she was outside to take a deep breath. In a life full of strange experiences, Gina wasn't sure that hadn't been one of the weirdest.

“I can explain--†Bombshell continued to be yanked back and forth in the cage of eldritch and telekinetic power. She went quiet, hoping not for the first time that she wouldn’t end up pulled apart like a Christmas cracker. “While I do appreciate your help tonight, I really would like to remind you that this is both my building and thus the matter should be in my hands.†The petite telepathic powerhouse known as Young Freedom’s Psyche was saying as she gave a gentle tug on Bombshell’s wrists, trying to get her away. “In your hands to let her go? She’s a well known felon!†The enigmatic Phantom responded in her eerie rumble, tugging on Bombshell’s feet until she was slowly flipped sideways. Not for the first time did Bombshell wish that Scarab was able to read her at least for a mental SOS. “Ladies, please,†Bombshell interjected and when they both looked her direction, she couldn’t help but say, “There is enough of me to go around.†Well, at least they were both glaring at her now. “Look,†Bombshell continued with a disarming smile. “I’m not here to steal your McGuffin. Whatever it is. Tech, it’s not my thing. I’d offer to let you try and do the brain scan, but well, that’s never as easy as it looks. The Scarab can vouch for me. I’m new leaf now! All squeaky clean and PG-13.†And now there was simply patent disbelief. Bombshell grunted as she was tugged from the telekinetic grip on her wrists - which she strongly suspected the teenager had let go rather than risk injury and found herself thrust up against a wall. “Little bit of a hypocrite aren’t you?†Bombshell asked the cowled mystic, “Don’t you run with the grim and gritty types? Compared to them, I really am silver-plated.†Phantom’s low growl was her only response as that barb hit its mark. Comparing broken limbs to borrowed goods was really apples to oranges but it did make it hard to throw stones at the ex-thief. “Phantom,†it was the high, clear voice of the teenager now, floating slightly behind Phantom, her expression disapproving. “Scarab vouches for her, isn’t that enough?†“Is it enough for you?†Phantom responded, those burning white eyes boring into Bombshell as she held her against the wall of one of AEGIS’s research facilities. “It would be enough for me.†Psyche replied unhesitatingly, her clear gaze meeting Bombshell’s with that same eerie all-knowing serenity that Scarab had sometimes but in the Scarab, that was balanced by the heavy weight of years and years. Those wise eyes in the smooth face of a child unnerved Bombshell more than the angry wrath of any dimensional guardian ever would. Her gaze skittered away from Psyche’s and around the room, looking for an exit even as she said, “The girl’s right. You’re a bit behind the times, I’m afraid. I saw the lightshow disturbance when I was swinging by and thought I’d take a peek in to make sure that it wasn’t anything weird. Weird-er, I should say. It is Freedom City.†“That ‘lightshow’ was an interdimensional disturbance... I suppose that was nothing to do with you either,†Phantom rumbled angrily, her grip not loosening even a little bit as the cloak and shadows around her flared out. “Ah, no?†“It wasn’t, Phantom. That was an experiment by one of my research and development team.†Psyche spoke up again, quiet and patient but now she had the mystic’s attention. “I’m sorry, if I had any idea it would have been remotely successful, I would have registered the experiment with the appropriate boards but as it was, it is an unrepeatable anomaly that will be keeping that team busy for quite some time. I am very sorry if you were disturbed by it.†“Unrepeatable anomaly?†Phantom muttered, turning her hooded head but her grip slackened enough that Bombshell gave one quick wriggle and dropped out of the eldritch bands holding her against the wall and quickly dropped behind a stack of crates in the corner to hide. “No, no thank you. No more hugs,†Bombshell said, waving her gloved hands slightly, “This has all been very engaging. Apologies to the teen wonder for intruding. Now, if its quite alright with you all, I’ll be on my way....†“Now, wait just a second, goldilocks...†Phantom started, pivoting in place before Psyche said softly, “That’s enough, I think.†She glided between the two women and held her hands out, turning towards Phantom first, “I realize that yours is a thankless job and I’m very sorry that you were pulled out of whatever activity that you were in the middle of tonight for something that turned out to be a false alarm but that is my fault, not this woman’s. If you’d like to take someone to task, you’re welcome to let me know just what I did wrong. Alphabetically or categorically, your preference. But I am not about to stand by and watch you harass someone who is entirely innocent. It doesn’t matter if she committed a crime ten years ago or just last week. She did nothing wrong tonight and it is not for you to judge.†Then she pivoted towards Bombshell and fixed her with that intense look, “You, however, should not take advantage of the fact that you are innocent, to see just how far you can push the envelope. You are, in fact, trespassing. With likely mingled good intentions and plain old curiosity, but you know full well what it looks like, especially with your past. False outrage and mock innocence is beneath you.†Psyche paused and then lowered her hands to her sides slowly, “I think, perhaps, it might be time for you both to leave. I appreciate the intentions of both of you in coming here but things are well in hand and neither of your formidable skills are needed tonight. It has been a pleasure. I think you both know the way out?†Bombshell and Phantom both blinked before Bombshell slanted a glance towards Phantom and offered, “Out of the mouths of babes?†“I still don’t like you.â€

"Wait, seriously?" "Mm." "You built that - all of that - without a college degree." "Yes." "You’re not even a student?" "No. Never put a foot on a campus." "Huh." A dim glow illuminated a cramped metal room that didn’t have much room to spare after accommodating the two trapped heroes - could an observer see in the inky blackness (and, dear reader, why not?) they might note the curious contrast - the sword-wearing, goggled, longcoat-clad Gaian Knight at one end cross-legged on the floor, and the technologically-gifted, gauntleted, visor-obscured Dragonfly leaning back at the other, feet propped up on a wall as she stared up at their metal prison. "Seriously, though," the earthmover probed, mostly to fill the silence. "Never? Not even a single class?" The inventor only shrugged. "No. High school, either. GED, though. Safety nets...mm. Why? That surprising?" "Well, I mean...well yeah. You don’t think it’s a little weird to build all that stuff with just a GED?" She tilted her head, apparently pondering that for a minute. "Maybe," she conceded. "Not sure someone who doesn’t breathe can talk about ‘weird’." He had to laugh at that, throwing up his hands. "Hey, hey. Alright. In my defense, I normally DO breathe. I just don’t really have to when I’m underground." "Mm." There was silence again, filled only by fidgeting and the quiet, almost imperceptible noise coming from Dragonfly’s gear. Far, far above the metal roof came the noise of machinery and shouted orders. "So, uh, I don’t mean to pry. But...why?" came the question that once more broke the silence. "Didn’t really see a point. Know plenty...could teach half the classes. By proficiency. Experience poor, patience...mm. May not be suited for it. But have the knowledge." "Well, sure, okay. But there’s so much more to it than that! I think you’d gain a lot by getting a-" He barely managed to cut himself off before saying ‘proper education’. "...a solid college experience." She turned her head and raised an eyebrow, her shifting audible in the close quarters and silence. "Examples?" she challenged. "Like....erm. It’s a whole...social....I mean, it’s not what you learn, it’s what you....that is...." He trailed off, and he could see (Bless you a thousand times, fancy and expensive goggles.) her flat stare, the full force of a stubborn and unamused young woman turned in his direction (Curse you a thousand times, fancy and expensive goggles.). "You could...meet people your own age?" he finished, rather weakly, his hands spread in an unseen gesture of helplessness. She snorted, turning her head back up to look up at the ceiling. The noise was changing, now, the dim sound of machines being turned on and sending vibrations that made the metal walls hum. "Little use for people my age. ...am not that young, anyway." There was silence again, though this time the sounds from above were muffled by the terrible awkwardness that filled the air. Both heroes, magic and science, cheered inside as they heard a loud and reverberating hum through the ground, as if some massive generator had been switched on up above ground. They stood up, adjusting their respective coat or jacket and making sure they were leaving nothing behind. Her gauntlets were already charging, lines of blue and quietly illuminated glass; his hands glowed a soft golden brown in the darkness as he reached out with his senses and felt the earth above them. "Ready?" "Mm. Ready. Teleporting in five...." Then there was a flash, the sound of air rushing to fill a vacuum, and nothing. The little metal container sat silent again and empty, deep beneath the earth while sounds of fighting broke out on the surface above.

Midtown; Sunday 28th November The Millenium Mall was always quiet on a Sunday morning. As the blond- scruffy man sauntered across the main plaza, no one even noticed his passing, but for one grim man with greying hair and a walking stick. The blond man smiled through the glare, even as John Fraser turned his irritance at the early hours upon some poor unsuspecting barista. Casually, the blond man walked into a side door through into a small janitor's closet. The janitor inside put down his coffee mug, but could barely open his lips to protest the sudden intrusion before his head had been slammed clean through the folding steel table into unconsciousness. Siobhan Drake browsed through the small occult books section of the bookstore, frowning. They were all either too expensive, outrageously misinformed, or both. While flicking through a slender volume on the lycanthropic 'myth', she felt an odd throbbing at the base of her skull, her hands shaking of their own accord. Something big's happening. Putting down the book, she briskly left the store and headed towards the female bathrooms. John Fraser frowned as he sipped the vile, cheap coffee. Better than nothing, I suppose. Still garbage, though. Then the smell hit his keen sense. Brimstone cloyed up his nostrils and made him sneeze. Glancing around, it looked like nobody else had really picked up on it. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) he had much keener senses than the average joe on the street. And as such, he quickly picked up his cane and headed off to the parking garage to get his motorcycle and costume. The mystic blast blew a small chunk of wall out from where the maintenance closet once was. Unnaturally red and green flames burst forth in a cloud of acrid grey smoke, the explosion sounding less like a bang and more like the bark of a hundred angry Rottweilers. The few shoppers present in the shop fled as the blond haired man, Keter, strode calmly and unharmed forth from the flames, soaked in blood across his torso and on his arms up to his elbows. At his heels pranced three dog-liked creatures, hair- and skin-less, each with teeth like daggers and claws like swords. Every one had four eyes a deeper, more putrid green than the saliva dripping from their jaws, sizzling as it hit the floor underneath them and melted the cheap tiling. Keter reached down and petted one absently, fingers running through the scaly ridges on the back of its head where its ears should be. Snarling, it lunged to bite at his hand, only to have its head blown clean from its shoulders in a shower of ichor, hellfire spouting from Keter's splayed fingers. "Bad dog," he growled in a low tone. With casual disinterest, he watched the woman in the black trenchcoat glide down towards him from the upper level. Her translucent white wings faded into nothingness as she dismissed the spell, wand levelled at Keter's head. "Simon," she said simply, expression neutral in spite of her blazingly white eyes. "I see you've not changed much." Keter scowled at her, but held a hand out to keep his two remaining hellhounds from leaping at her. "Siobhan, you know I prefer my real name," he said, annoyance not even present in his tone. "I've come to ask for your help. We could achieve so much." He looked pleadingly at her. "I know our methods don't agree, but perhaps I could try and convince you." "No, Simon," Equinox said wearily, shaking her head. "Last time, we both nearly died. Please, just give up. I'm not helping you. We can talk about it, but I will never do things your way. It costs too much." She flicked her wrist, a white aura of force appearing around her like a balloon. "Come with me. Please." Keter shook his head, nostrils flared. "I don't think you understand me, Siobhan. I was offering you out of courtesy. Bring her in, boys." His posture and tone didn't even change as the two hounds leapt at Equinox, slavering and roaring. Without a second thought, she'd pointed at one with the wand, a brief blast of air at tornado velocities meeting it headlong and casting it back to the floor. But the second leapt into her mystic wards, spewing acid from its maw. Sweat beaded on the witch's forehead as she braced her shields, trying to keep that clinging acid off of her skin. Summoning up a burst of wind once more, she tossed it to the ground and pushed up off the ground, white wings forming once more to hold her off the ground and away from the hounds' snarling leaps. But Keter merely smirked and did the same. Only, instead of white force, his wings were blazing red hellfire, and constantly shifting in shape and size. "Go hunt some prey," he said to his hellhounds, pointing at a couple of fleeing cashiers from the food court. They hungrily bounded off towards them. "No!" cried Equinox, going to fly after them. But a gout of hellfire hit her square in the chest, smashing her down to the floor, helpless as the hellspawned animals leapt at the young workers. Keter still was hardly reacting, just watching the imminent slaughter. One of the dogs leapt, maw opening wide with fangs about to close on a soft, unresisting skull. The arrow exploded into it, blowing a huge chunk of black ichor out of the creature's neck and tearing its lower jaw off. The carcass crashed into the ground, dissolving into black goo, before fading into nothing. Even as it did so, the second hound had turned to look at the fate of its companion, only to receive another arrow straight into its open jaws. The headless body fell still as the tall man dressed all in black glided down to the floor on a cape shaped like hawk's wings. "Not very good demons," growled Arrowhawk, another arrow already nocked and pointed at Keter. Blazing red eyes glared from underneath a hood. And finally, Keter laughed. "Excellent show," he applauded, raising two hand wreathed in hellfire high. "Now, kindly roll over and die while I conduct my business." Arrowhawk let the arrow fly... into a sudden cloud of hellfire appearing in the air. Even as the arrow passed harmlessly through nothingness, he felt a burst of agony in his back as something incredibly strong and on fire slammed into it. But the distraction was enough for Equinox to leap to her feet, summoning a cushion of air to slow the impact and bring Arrowhawk safely down to the floor. She then flicked her wand in a tight circle, and pointed it at Keter's face. A brief, but blindingly bright, flash of flame appeared and then immediately dissipated, leaving him reeling and unable to see. "I see your skills have grown," he snarled, raising both hands up above his head. "But I've got more power than you idiots can comprehend." And he slammed his hands downwards to the ground, hellfire flooding up from nowhere to crash across the entire level. The destruction cleared, leaving the mall an absolute mess. Shops were wrecked, their windows exploded into millions of shards, their merchandise torched. The floor was scorched, riddled with acid burns and reduced to muddy craters at certain points. And Keter was just... gone. Equinox lowered her shields and fell to her knees. "That was close," she said in a strained voice, weary from having had to make so strong a shield in so short a time. She didn't hear Arrowhawk drop from where he'd managed to grapple up to on the ceiling. "Who was that psycho?" he asked in a low voice. "You seemed to know him, from what I heard." Equinox looked up at a harsh, weathered face. "One of the mistakes from my teenage years. And he's apparently got much more dangerous than he used to be. That kind of infernal magic isn't exactly easy to do," she mused. "And he's still convinced I've got enough magical juice to get him what he wants." The man's expression hadn't changed once. "And do you?" he asked. Equinox just shook her head and accepted the hand he'd just outstretched, pulling her up to her feet. "I'm Equinox, by the way," she said, more out of politeness than anything else. "Arrowhawk," came the reply. "Thanks for stopping me hitting the wall there. It might have hurt some." Equinox just looked at him incredulously. Might? Of all the arrogant, pig-headed...! "Yeah," she said slowly. "And thanks for stopping those hellhounds. I... don't know if I could have lived with myself for failing to save those poor people." Arrowhawk just nodded. "You'd have learned to. Anyway, I have to be off." "But aren't you going to help clean up?" protested Equinox, a note of indignation entering her voice. "Not my style, kid." And she just watched as the older man walked off, a barely perceptible limp in his steps.

Time: After November 1st, 2010 "Okay, Dok, let's start at the top. Th' trapesiuz 'rises from..." "From the external occipital protuberance and the medial third of the superior nuchal line of the occipital bone, from the ligamentum nuchae, the spinous process of the seventh cervical, and the spinous processes of all the thoracic vertebrae, and from the corresponding portion of the supraspinal ligament." Dead Head read along on the laminated sheet Archeville had given him, and noted that the Doktor got it all right. He nodded, causing the exposed muscles to contract and expand as they slid over one another. Archeville had filed a request for a medical cadaver a few days ago, so he could practice some of his lesser-used medical skills and not let them get rusty. Dead Head got word of this from one of his contacts at the hospital morgues, and decided to volunteer, showing up at Archeville's doorstep in Hanover. (And if the good Doktor would pay him for his services, so much the better!) Archeville was skeptical at first, but decided to humor the man. He was surprised at how still he could lie while being worked on, no involuntary spasms or tremors, and if not for his incessant talking he would think the body on the operating table was a regular (if very badly bruised) corpse. But there was a complication, aside from the corpse's constant talking testing Archeville's powers of concentration as well as his medical skill: Dead Head's 'undying factor' repaired damage to him as soon as it was inflicted, making practicing most surgical techniques impossible. How could he practice a small bowel resectioning when the abdominal incision closed around him before he could even get his laproscope in? So instead they went with basic anatomical review, peeling back layers of Dead Head to expose and identify assorted structures. "Alright, next set," Dead Head said as he reached back and tore loose the clamps and forceps pinning back his skin. As soon as he did, the flaps closed and sealed shut, leaving him looking completely unharmed. He tossed the instruments, still holding tiny bits of his skin, into a bucket holding other used instruments, and resumed his face-down position on the massage-turned-operating table. "Latissimi dorsi, dextral and sinistral," he instructed. Archeville took up a scalpel and forceps and began cutting and pinning. "How is it you know so much about medical terminology? I mean, the stereotype is that you 'zombies' are, well-" "A bunch'a brainless boneheads?," he interrupted, and chuckled. "Most are, but I ain't 'xactly a run'a tha mill zombie. Had a Voudun loa in me fer 'bout a decade, animatin' me, but he left recently. Did somethin' ta me when he left," he shrugged, making some of the exposed muscles twitch, "but through it all I've kept ma mind. Which I am very grateful for! 'Fore all that, though, I was a college student, biology major. Wanted t'be a Neurologist, but didn't have th' grades." "Really?," Archeville replied, sounding quite surprised. "So your interest in brains existed long before your transmogrification?" "Heh, ya could say that, yeah, 'cept I ain't ever et a brain. Well, not since ma death an' rise. Friend'a mine back home, his granmaw had a hog farm, an' most ev'ry Sunday they'd have a big heap'a scrambled brains 'n' eggs fer breakfast." He grimaced, "never could stand 'em. Naw, my interest were from all the migraine headaches I'd get as a teen. I read up on th' causes, got hooked on the neuroanatomy'a it, tried pursuin' it as a career. Never had th' grades ta do so, though. An' in my current condition, it ain't easy ta continue mah education." "Oh, I am sure you could take distance education courses, many colleges offer several courses online, and-" Dead Head laughed, "that ain't it, Dok, not at all. I cain't go 'cuz I'm broke! I got nothin' but my shovel an' th' clothes on mah back!" "Oh, pshaw. I am sure there are numerous scholarships and grants you could apply for, and-" "Ain't got no permanent mailin' address. I mean, I could have 'em forward it care'a St. Stephen's Church on Lantern Hill, but... I don't wanna be a bother." "Dead Head, I would like to help. I am fairly wealthy, you know, and make numerous donations to-" "Nah, Dok," he said, shaking his head, "ain't no need fer that. I got so much t'do fer the Dead, I'd never have time t'study. I caon't get any'a my credits t'transfer, 'cuz I'm legally dead, they closed or erased all mah records. I'd have ta start over from scratch, an' I'd already been a full-time student fer four an' a half years. Now, quit yer jawin' an' answer me this: th' lateral margin'a the latissimus dorsi is separated below from th' obliquus externus abdominis by a small triangular interval, the..." "the lumbar triangle of Petit," Archeville rattled off, "the base of which is formed by the iliac crest, and its floor by the obliquus internus abdominis. And the latissimus dorsi can be remembered best for insertion as "The Lady Between Two Majors," as it inserts into the intertubercular groove of the humerus and is surrounded by two major muscles, the teres major on one side and the pectoralis major on the other." This went on for some time. Archeville was amazed at his recuperative powers, and mildly impressed by his anatomical knowledge; Dead Head was mildly amused at his fascination. As soon as he had seen the 'zombie,' Archeville had another idea for him, but it was not until halfway through the 'anatomical tour' that be broached the subject. "Dead Head, have you ever allowed your recuperative abilities to be tested?" "They're tested all the time, Dok," he replied while pinning back a section of skin on his left calf, "but, uh, naw, never had a scientific study done. Mostly 'cuz, well, I don't think science can 'splain it." "Oh, nonsense!," Archeville cheerfully retorted. "I am sure I can find out why and how this happened. And along the way, we can discover the extent of your abilities. Would that not be helpful to you? It certainly would to me and my research!" "Well, if it's fer Science, I s'pose I can help..." Soon Archeville had named all the muscles, bones, and organs in Dead Head's body, and he had exposed every inch of himself to the Doktor. Washing up, he lead Dead Head to the reinforced Hazard Hall below his laboratories, where realistic holograms covering overlapping polygonal force fields and tightly-focused pressor beams (as well as an assortment of robots) could create a variety of threats for superhero training... or superhuman power testing. "Alright, Dead Head, just stand right there, please, and I will go to the control room and set things in motion." "Yeah, but what about monitorin' me? Dontcha need, like, monitors attached to me?" "Indeed so!" A small section of the floor irised open, and a slim pedestal rose up, atop which was something looking like a watch. "Her, put this biomonitor on, it will link to the dozens of sensors in in the walls, ceiling and floor to monitor you!" Archeville practically skipped to the control room, giddy to start cataloging another Metahuman's abilities. He set the Hazard Hall to its lowest level to start, all nonlethal attacks. For the most part, Dead Head simply stood there, unaffected by it all; at one point he looked up with his arms crossed over his chest and the most bored expression his dead face could muster. Archeville looked over the biomonitor readouts, which showed absolutely nothing. He stepped up the intensity of the attacks, and these attacks did break skin and fracture bone, but Dead Head bounced back in practically no time. Archeville set about removing the safeties from the Hazard Hall, which caused parts of the control room to unfold as new options were made available. He turned to one console, but did so just as another was descending, and suffered a nasty concussion. Archeville fell to a crumpled heap on the control room floor. A hand reached up to the main console from the floor. It was not human. "Herr Totenkopf... I mean, Mister Dead Head... are you ready for de next level of intensity?" "Sure thing, Dok! I'm startin' ta get bored ta death down here! An' I'm already dead! Yer borin' me back ta death!" "Oh, do not vorry about dat," he muttered, while black-scaled, taloned hands manipulated the controls. First came whirling blades and crushing hammers, but they could not kill the zombie. A shotgun blast to the back of the head healed over with annoying swiftness. "Yea! Now we're cookin', Doc!" "'How about a little feuer, scarecrow?'" It would take days to get the smell of burnt zombie out of the Hazard Hall, but only moments for Dead Head's charred body to regenerate. "This ain't mah first barbecue, y'know!" "Hold on a moment, you are still smoldering..." A saline solution was prayed onto the smoking zombie; the solution was filled with several million particularly nasty nanobots designed to rip and tear their way through skin, organ tissues, and blood vessels, causing massive internal hemorrhages and shock response in the victim. They barely managed to keep Dead Head at the same level of injury, and in time, unable to draw power from the zombie's non-existent bioelectrical field, their tiny batteries gave out and they fell inert. And he didn't even seem to notice. "What's next?" Unintelligible curses issued from Arch-Evil's fanged and spittle-flecked mouth, even as he programmed in a new attack. Behind Dead Head, a machine assembled itself from hard light holograms, but the unconventional undead was too busy focusing on the large hulking robot that was rising from the floor. It charged, swinging a massive hammer-fist at the hero; he simply smiled as he braced himself for impact. The blow connected, a mighty uppercut that sent Dead Head flying into the machine behind him. The western wall of the Hazard Hall became dark red. "Ha! Ein Zombie shambled bis zu hölzernen abklopfhammer und sagt "Ich vergaß, nicht in sie gedrückt zu werden, und jetzt ich bin laubedeckt." Ha! Es ist lustig, weil der Zombie mit laubedeckt erhält! Ahhh hah hah hah hah hah!" The remains stirred, wiggling and writhing back towards each other, slowly un-mulching themselves. Arch-Evil looked on, unbelieving. "Nein! Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein! Computer! Erstellen Sie eine Kopie von den letzten fünf Minuten dieses Lernabschnittes und außer zum Wraith-Antrieb," he commanded while adjusting the controls to the Hall and his Electromagnetic Screwdriver, "wenden Sie dann Filter 23-E an den letzten fünf Minuten der Primäraufnahmenan." Arch-Evil took a few deep breaths, then did what he hated doing: went back to a quiescent state. With the last microsecond of consciousness, he activated the Screwdriver, which set off a memory-altering pulse to cover his actions, making Archeville think they were his own; the doctored audio and video logs would show Archeville running the tests. The gadget reset itself to standby mode as it tumbled from his unconscious hands. Archeville stood, placing a hand over his throbbing head. "Dead Head? Still with us?" "Jes' fine, Dok, the regenerative -- and very naked -- revenant called from the empty Hall, "but... uh... I'm gonna need some new clothes!"