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Dr Archeville

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About Dr Archeville

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  • Birthday 06/02/1977

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    Roxboro, NC, USA

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  1. "Exploding would be bad, yes," he agreed, coughing a bit to mask his nervous laugh. "Has, uh, has that happened to you before? You said you've mimicked energy, I'd imagine that was somewhat explosive, but have you ever mimicked an explosive substance and then detonated?" As they talked, a glint of metal and some movement caught Facsimile's eye. It was some sort of green metallic beetle -- no, a beetle-shaped robot -- about the size of a fat housecat. It scurried up to the mess Facsimile had made, then the wingcase opened and several smaller beetle-bots emerged. They began to scoop and vacuum up the mess, wipe the area down, and spray assorted disinfectants. In mere moments, the area looked clean as ever, and the baby bugs went back into mombot, who then trundled off back into one of the crates that dotted the hangar. "So, are you up for another experiment?," Archeville asked, paying no mind to the robots. "I'm interested to see if your transformations are limited to surface contact, or if you could mimic something inside you. That is, something that you've swallowed... like the ginger ale I just gave you. Though, in the interests of full disclosure, I'll warn you that there's a slight chance you'd instead mimic your own stomach acids, though that chance is small. Still, best to do so on the concrete, away from any metal," he gestured vaguely towards his spaceplane. "So, does that sound like something you'd be willing to try?"
  2. Davyd sat across from Lulu, squeezing himself in between Pan and Veronica. "Oh, hold on, let me see what I can do about this." With some conscious effort he made himself just a bit taller (now back to his original height) and skinnier, so the two on either side of him had more room. "This is almost," he chuckled, "a bit like that time I wore a corset." After several moments looking over the menu (and peeking at Lulu), he ordered some conch fritters and jerk fish, and the same ginger beer. "I'm guessing," he said as he returned the menu to its holder, "that they were not able to see the name of the ship? No identifying marks, no way to easily tell where it was from? Or what it might have been carrying? Treasure would be nice, sure," he nodded to Pan, "though I'm unclear on the rules for salvage... but I'm more worried about something nasty on board, something that might have caused it to wreck."
  3. "Thi... this is your mamochka*?," he asked, seconds before it spoke to him. "I- oh! <Hello! I am pleased to meet you, too, ma'am!>," he replied demurely. "<Your daughter is a, uh, a fine young woman, and has done much good for this city. I am sure you must be very proud.>" So, this is my life now. Cool, cool... cool, cool, cool... "<So, will you also be teaching me about shapeshifting? You taught Miss Grue, yes?"> He cocked his head slightly to the side, "<or is that instinctual for them? Ah, for Grue, I mean.>" * mommy
  4. "Oh!" In a flash Archeville was next to Facsimile, with a fizzy drink in hand. "Are you alright? I am so sorry -- had suspected something like that might happen, but calculated the odds were very low. Here, here, drink this, it's ginger ale, it should help settle your stomach." I have got to be better at communicating! Facsimile was already feeling better, and the drink did help. After several more minutes of Archeville checking over him, asking how he felt, profusely apologizing for not telling him of possible side effects of these tests, and running scans to make sure there were no lingering aftereffects, the Doktor gave him a clean bill of health. "Okay, so... good to go?"
  5. Archeville bowed slightly to the man, "ah, have we met before? I am afraid to say I do not recognize you, though if you've... altered yourself, as you have these apes," he gestured to their captors, "then I should not be surprised your appearance would have been changed enough that you would be as a stranger to me." Of course, we need not have met for him to recognize me. As, the double-edged sword of being world-famous. And infamous... "To answer your question," he replied smoothly, "we have learned about the alterations you've made to these apes, as well as to the materials of their clothing and weaponry. One working hypothesis," he continued, "is that you've modified the Darwin X virus to work on inorganic materials, such as Daka crystals, which could also explain the structure we see before us," he glanced around at the dome before them. "We've also detected a number of subspace anomalies in the vicinity of the portal to the Lost World, and numerous exotic particles flooding the area, presumably to force the portal open. But that all covers the what -- we are still in the dark on the why. Would you care to enlighten us?"
  6. I'm going to be busy with my brother's wedding ( \o/ ) over the weekend, so I won't be able to post until probably Monday afternoon.
  7. "Ooh, yes, just like that!" he exclaimed as he withdrew a small handheld device from the crate. Facsimile guessed it was a scanner of some sort, judging by the way Archeville waved it over him, and it fleshed and beeped. "I have a few hypotheses, and if your abilities work in the way I think they do, and I can get some thorough readings, then this might lead to some revolutions in materials science! New ways to make alloys! Self-repairing materials!" He continued muttering as he ran scans on the young hero, both with the scanner and his own internal processes. Facsimile started feeling a bit nauseated as the two substance surged back and forth across his abdomen. It was tolerable for now, but if he kept this up, he might be sick... and he wasn't entirely certain what would be coming out of him.
  8. "Oh, no, no," he waved one hand, "I've got everything quite under control. I've got robots to help with the heavy lifting. And the medium lifting. And the light lifting," he added, grinning. "Though I do appreciate the offer. As for the paint job," he gestured towards the aircraft as he walked towards another crate, "well, I am still something of a patriot," he smiled, "and I think the black, red, and gold make a good color scheme. Especially if I get into a situation where I'll need to rely on stealth." "As for you," he leaned slightly forward on the crate, "I have a few ideas for some tests already. Can you juggle? If so, we could see how quickly you can shift by juggling spheres of various materials and mimicking each one as it contacts your palms. Or, we could see if you can change into multiple distinct materials, like having your legs mimic one substance while your arms mimic another."
  9. "Something like that," he said as the lights came up. The first thing Facsimile noticed was the large aircraft in the middle of the hangar, of a make similar to the Freedom League's own spaceplanes. This one was black with gold trim and numerous red lights all over, and the rear cargo door/ramp was open, though from the doorway he could not see inside it. Strewn about were numerous boxes, crates, and containers, as well as a few tool cabinets. "Though this area isn't that quiet or secluded," he said, just as a low roar rumbled overhead, like distant thunder, "since this is part of the Jameson Airport. I did put in some sound dampeners here, though, so it's quieter than it would otherwise be." "I have had a few truly secluded homes, though," he continued as he walked behind one crate, opened it, and began pulling out some clothes. "ArcheTech had a space station, in orbit over South America, and I spent a lot of time up there looking out, my view unobstructed by clouds or atmosphere." Though the crate's opened lid obscured almost all but his head and shoulders, Facsimile could tell he was changing outfits. "Then there was my submarine, which explored the depths of many oceans. And my castle, though that was also the European headquarters for ArcheTech, so that place was always busy. Oh, and of course the asteroid," he added with something between a grin and a grimace, "but they're all gone now." He lowered the lid and stepped out from behind the crate, shifting his holodisguise as he did, and was now looking more like himself. Navy blue pants and purple shirt under a white labcoat, blonde hair, and a youthful face. "Having somewhere to get away to, a place you can call your own, is important, yes. But it's also important not to cut yourself off from friends and loved ones. Trust me on this. So, what would you like to do first?"
  10. Two and a half months. Ten weeks. 74 days. That's how long it had been since his life had changed in so thoroughly and unexpected a manner. Before that, he was a mild-mannered high school student, comfortable working behind the scenes of Franklin D. Roosevelt's theatrical productions. After that, after the lab accident at FCU which had granted him extensive shapeshifting abilities -- an accident involving Grue biomaterials -- he'd been thrust into the whirlwind world of Claremont Academy, and its many teen metahumans. In that time he'd met a dragon, traveled back in time, met a faerie and a Grue, and helped explore a sunken ship. And now, after a trip on the Radiance Unveiled, he was on an honest-to-gods space station. Even for someone who'd grown up in Freedom, and was frequently exposed to that city's weirdness, this was all getting to be a bit much. But he had friends with him, which helped. And Ambassador Ortilac was so positive and uplifting, it was easy to feel welcome. "Davyd Palahniuk," the round-faced, long-limbed Ukrainian-American boy said, extending a hand to Sitara, "pleased to meet you. This is my first time in space!," he exclaimed.
  11. He smirked, "yes, I know a thing or three about unsecured networks and GPS trackers." He withdrew his hand and tapped his temple, "one perk of my new condition, though one that took me a while to get a handle on." He began to rise from his seat, "so many signals out there, all coming in at once -- it was quite overwhelming at times! But I learned to filter it out, focus on what I needed to and let the rest just become background noise." He went up to the counter and paid for their meal (using a prepaid debit card), then headed out. He looked over at Facsimile's motorcycle, "if you don't mind, I'd like to handle transportation this time." He turned and walked behind the diner, motioning for Facsimile to follow with his bike. He looked around to see if there were any bystanders, then pointed to an empty spot next to the dumpster behind the diner. "Just a moment, please," he said, closing his eyes and concentrating. A pinpoint of blue-grey light appeared in the air before them, and slowly expanded. The point become a ring, through which Facsimile could see a single metal door. As the portal widened, he could see more of the other side: the door was set into a large building, surrounded by asphalt. A large parking lot, most likely. After a few seconds, the portal was easily big enough for Facsimile and the Doktor to walk through side by side, with his motorcycle in between them. "It's not as luxurious as my former home," he apologized, "but it should be more than sufficient." [Continues in The Strongest Link.]
  12. 2019 May 17th (Friday). Evening. Cloudy, temps in high 60s/low 70s. [Continued from Upgrading the Supply Chain.] At the doorway to a small private hangar on Jameson Airport, a hole in space appeared. It was a very brief thing, and tightly controlled -- the creator knew a wormhole's varying gravimetric fluctuations could play havoc with the delicate sensors used by the aircraft in the area, so he kept things tight and focused to minimize that. Out of the portal stepped two figured, with a motorcylce between them. One was a young man, who appeared to be the vehicle's owner as he was dressed not unlike a biker. The other appeared to be an older man, middle aged, with long brown hair, in blue overalls and an orange long-sleeved shirt, with a large leather tool belt. As soon as they were through, the portal snapped shut with a soft 'boof' of displaced air. "Here we are, hangar 4P," the older man said as he walked towards the single side door, "home sweet home. Well, for now, at least." He opened the door and entered the darkened structure, beckoning for the younger man to follow.
  13. Hunh. Well, that's still useful information. "Science Lord Vha," Archeville said with a slight bow, repeating the false names he'd given the apes, "and these are my allies, SWAT Del," he pointed to Delta, "Serj Mac," he pointed to the machete-wielding Sgt. Henry, "and Science Lady Tez," he indicated Doctor Cortez. "We had heard of the unusual activities going on here, and came to investigate. When we encountered your... associates," he nodded towards their captors, "and they told us of your glory, we simply had to come see for ourselves, and perhaps see if we could join your endeavours. You've clearly got something big in the works here, involving a number of scientific and technical fields -- genetics, metallurgy, dimensional physics, and more. I myself am something of a scientific polymath, and would be most interested in learning the nature of your experiments here." He's fashionable, I'll give him that. And I'm sure that fancy outfit is even more protective than the ape's jumpsuits.
  14. Welcome back! So now that we see Lord Uplift, any chance we recognize him/know anything about him?
  15. "You want to make your own mark on the world," Archeville replied, grinning and raising his cup to the young man, "most admirable!" He chuckled softly, "you can't see it under this hologram," he fanned his face with one hand, "but your words make me blush. Well, whatever my physiological equivalent of blushing is -- I believe some LED lights just spontaneously formed across my cheeks. I am delighted and honored," he extended his hand again to the young hero, "to offer whatever assistance to you I can." "So, once we're done here," he glanced over at the slowly rotating tower of pies behind the diner's counter, "shall we go over to my place and see what we can figure out? Or did you have to get back out on patrol?"
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