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Dr Archeville

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About Dr Archeville

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    Roxboro, NC, USA

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  1. "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.
  2. "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."
  3. "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?"
  4. 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.
  5. 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.]
  6. 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.
  7. 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.
  8. Welcome back! So now that we see Lord Uplift, any chance we recognize him/know anything about him?
  9. "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?"
  10. Go down go down go down Davyd thought, holding his hand to the side of his head as they walked, passing it off as a persistent scalp itch. His wandering eye tried poking through his fingers a few times to get a look at all the sights around them -- and also at Lulu -- but he was eventually able to get a grip and will the errant sensor back into his skull. He was also now a few inches shorter, and eye-level with Veronica. "Yes, yes," he replied, nodding along and gesturing with both hands towards the doorway, acting as if nothing were amiss, "these small, unassuming often have the best food -- certainly better than any big corporate-owned chain. Can't wait to try it!," he said through an uneasy smile.
  11. "Ah, so there are limits -- good to know," he nodded. "Guess that means you won't be expanding your power to mimicking the DNA of others, and copying metahuman powers. Not that you'd need to!," he added with a chuckle. "And, ah, yes," he lowered his voice, "too much would be bad, and if certain unscrupulous individuals learned of you doing that, they may well force you to, say, mimic illegal drugs, or Daka crystals, and... harvest you. So..." he leaned back and resumed his regular voice, "let's change the subject, hrm?" He reached into an overall pocket and pulled out two business cards, and laid them on the table in front of Facsimile. "As I said before, if you are interested in help in exploring and testing your abilities, either of these would be good choices." One was a slightly worn card for ASTRO Labs, the other a much older and more worn card for ArcheTech. "If you're not comfortable working with me," he added, holding up his hands, "which I would completely understand and not hold against you in any way."
  12. DRAGON!!! Davyd was awestruck for a few moments, taking in the full view of Dio. Even for a native of Freedom, being this close to an actual dragon was a rare occurrence! Eventually, though, he found his wits. "H-hey... nice to... meet... you." People talking to him further helped snap him back. "Oh, uh, yeah, he told us he was from another Earth, another dimension," Davyd replied to Kam, letting his hand be engulfed by the Dakanan prince's, and engulfed Veronica's hand with his other one. "Oh, I know you!," he exclaimed as his smile grew even wider, "oh, I have read much about the Danger family's exploits!" He withdrew his hands and shifted his height and appearance, until he was a reasonable match for a teenage version of her grand-uncle Ace.
  13. "Well, I was thinking of something less visceral," he said, softly chuckling. "Like, if you grew your hair out, then turned into gold, cut your hair, and sold that to raise money for the community. Or you let your fingernails grow for a few weeks, then turned to diamond, clipped them -- though you may need some special equipment to do so -- and sold those. Of course," he took another sip of his coffee, "we'd need to study what those snipped off pieces of you actually are, run some molecular scans, make sure they're not going to spontaneously revert to hair or nails after some amount of time, or if exposed to some catalyst." "Another idea, though one that's a bit more complex," he tilted his head slightly, "and presuming that the separated bits don't eventually revert back," he straightened up again, "is if you could mimic some chemical compounds, medicines like insulin or penicillin, and cry or sweat that out. Then again," he began stroking his chin, "if you could just change your blood proteins, you could become a universal donor..." He began to trail off, mumbling about compounds and grafts.
  14. "Agreed," he mumbled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. Not that such discussions ever bothered him, but he respected Facsimile's "inappropriate dinner conversation" request. The food was good, deliciously greasy and stomach-filling. During the meal Archeville made idle conversation -- asking about businesses that went boom or bust over the past few years, local restaurants, odd weather patterns, celebrity sightings. He made a point not to ask anything about Facsimie's powers, or his personal life, keeping the conversation light and breezy. Eventually, of course, the food was gone, and they both sat back satisfied. "Ah, there is an elegance to a simple meal, yes? Thank you for bringing me here!"
  15. "So," he said while processing all he'd just been told, "if I'm understanding your correctly, when you were marble, and your legs were cut off, when you changed back, your flesh-and-blood legs reappeared, but there were marble legs lying on the ground somewhere? Wait, you also said you were massive at the time, so you were a marble giant? You can take on properties of size, too?" He sat back in the booth, eyes wide. "Astonishing," he muttered, just as the waitress brought them their food. He off-handedly thanks her, but ignored his food for a few moments as his mind roiled with thoughts. But the smell of crispy bacon eventually got through to him; he looked down, saw their food, and smiled. "Ah, good," he reached into one of his overall's pockets and brought out two small vials, "I've had nothing to eat since early this morning." The contents of one vial, a silvery blue powder, he sprinkled into his coffee and stirred it in. The other, containing dark coppery flakes, he sprinkled over his hash browns. "Oh, ah, yes -- my, er, condition requires certain nutritional supplements. Powdered gallium, in my coffee -- oh, that is nice," he said after a sip, "simple and unpretentious -- and cuprate-perovskite ceramic flakes for my hash browns." "Why do I want to know all this?," he repeated after a second sip, "well, as I said, I'm a Doktor, a Scientist, and knowing things, figuring out how they work, is what I do. I'm sure you've heard that ArcheTech had worked with ASTRO Labs and others in studying metahuman powers, and helping metahumans learn to control their abilities, or use them in new ways. I'd like to continue that, in some small manner, but to do so I need to know wha- that is, who I'm working with."
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