Dr Archeville
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Horrorshow "Before I answer that," he began, in a more serious tone than Eira could recall hearing from him before, "I need to apologize to you." He took a deep breath, "the words I'd said as I left were meant for you to hear, because they were meant to be a subtle attack on your ego. Which I assume you do have, since that's something humans have, and your mind is based on a human's mind." He held up a hand defensively, as if to word off any interruption from her, "I thought doing so might drive you to redouble your efforts in finding information on Rurland... or, at the very least, point out to you that you do have an ego, and that it can be attacked. Better to find out here, now, I thought, with a... a friend... than in the midst of combat, or from someone who truly meant your harm. But I am neither qualified to perform such tests, nor did you agree to any such challenges. I am sorry." "I have a human mind, too," he said after a moment, voice softening, and he sat on the bed, "I was born a human, was raised by humans. I can do and have seen more than most humans, yes," he shrugged, "and while I have come to cherish the part of me that is Grue, and am still learning what it means to be Grue, I am also still human, with all a human's drives, and instincts... and fears." His brow furrowed a moment, "I do not fear non-organic intelligences, despite all the sci-fi I've seen and read telling us that such entities will always seek the extermination of all organic life. I believe we can all benefit each other. But I am concerned about Talos, and any other proven malevolent synthetic."
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Horrorshow Davyd allowed himself a little smirk. "So there's more about Rurland which you don't know than I'd originally thought," he muttered as he left, just loud enough, he was sure, for her to overhear him. Okay, maybe that was a cheap shot, he thought as he went for food, questioning her intel-gathering skills like that. And I'm not even sure such a psy-op would work on her. Eira's got a human mind -- or something based on a human mind -- so she should still have a human ego. Thoughts rolled through his head, and doubts, too... and hunger. About 40 minutes later, belly full of a variety of Eastern European street foods, he'd returned to the hotel room, bearing a few small steaming styrofoam containers. "Hey, sorry I took so long. I wanted to get you a little something -- I know you don't need to eat food, but that you appreciate certain aspects of it. Thought you might like to try some local eats. All vegetarian, of course."
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Horrorshow They're okay with sending two back for a known fighter, Davyd thought, but sent four after that unknown woman? Maybe they're just being overly cautious? As the one gorilla-goon addressed the man in the jackal mask, he took a moment to look at the guards. Okay, I know these places tend to hire a 'type,' but these two are almost identical. Siblings? He glanced back at the women's restroom, then back to Tak and his associates, quadruplets? Sextuplets? I can focus on that later, right now I need to... to find... Under the 'mask' he wore, Davyd's nose shifted, growing wider and flatter, and as keen as a bloodhound's. He sniffed for his uncle's cologne, but something else drew his attention. Or, rather, a lack of something: none of the gorilla-masked goons, nor Mr. Tak, had any discernible scent. Ooookay, this is getting really weird. Do the masks cover their scent as well as their face? As a way to further conceal their identity? A good idea, yeah, but how would they even- Tak's annoyed muttering drew Davyd's focus back, "uh, yeah, that new guy, the shadowy one," he grunted, "he was tweakin' bad, after he snorted somethin'. An' if he shared it with any of the others, there might be more of 'em on bad trips back there." He hoped that would get more of the goons to go back there with Tak, while a growing thought gnawed at his mind. Okay, but what if there really are some fighters back there that are tweaking on drugs? Or who are here against their will? Fighting like this when you want to is one thing, but being forced to do so... Ha glanced back at the arena, then continued following the others into the back, I've got to find out.
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Horrorshow 'Olivia' grinned, "well, I doubt that will happen anytime soon, but if so, I hope I'm there for it! It does raise the question, though," the interviewer leaned forward, and while her grin had faded, her voice remained pleasantly calm, "of why you chose to do this, and under the name 'Patriot.' There are always those curious as to why public servants -- from educators and firefighters to costumed superheroes -- do what they do. Why not go for, say, a more traditional law-enforcement position? Or go into professional sports? From what I've seen, you could clean up in the MMA circuit!," she said with a light chuckle. Slow and steady, don't rush things, Davyd reminded himself. Start broad, keep things light, get them comfortable, then go in for more details.
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Horrorshow Davyd chuckled as a crown of tentacles sprouted from his head, each tipped with a different type of eyeball, looking in every direction. "Oh, you don't have to tell me about the benefits of having extra! That was a really nice gift -- and he made it to fit your aesthetic, too! it's not often you see one of those gadget types working outside their niche... though," he shrugged, causing the eyestalks to ripple, "I suppose spiders and insects aren't that different, in those respects." He nodded and hopped off the bed, "alright, I'll go grab a quick bite, be back here in, say, 30 minutes?" He checked his appearance in the mirror, slicking his hair back -- and smoothing away his eyestalks -- before grabbing the door. "Oh, quick question before I go," he pivoted to face her, "do you know, roughly, what percentage of Rurland's citizens are uploaded former organics, like 'Kay,' and what percentage are, er, 'pure' Synthetics?" He grimaced, "sorry, I realize that's a loaded term, is there a better one I should be using? For Synthetics who are not uploads, like Talos, who were not based on any pre-existing organic entity?"
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Davyd gets a 24 on that Notice check. And he'll be using his Shapeshift to pick up Super-Senses 2 (Scent w/ Tracking), to track his Uncle Sasha, so he'll be realizing lots of things.
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Horrorshow "Thank you for joining us," the interviewer addressed the camera once she got the green light, professionally calm and even, her accent much subdued. "I'm Olivia Dobrhora, with the Danger News Network. With me tonight is one of the country's newest heroines," she inclined her head towards Ashley, "though we were lucky enough to catch her here in Freedom. Welcome, Patriot." She gave Ashely a moment to respond before continuing, "now, to be clear, that is just Patriot, yes? Not Miss Patriot, or Ms. Patriot?" Olivia's face carried a look of genuine curiosity and desire for clarification, with no hint of malice. "Your predecessor went simply by Patriot, too, though he was active in... a different time."
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Horrorshow "Treat them as we would like to be treated," he replied, nodding and shifting through the papers with his left hand. His right hand was doing its own shifting, sprouting a few extra fingers and growing stiff dark hairs. Soon it looked very much like a tarantula, staring at the spider atop Eira's head. "Seems only fair, and-" he'd continued, only now appearing to notice what had happened to his hand. He looked to it, then to Eira, and realization dawned upon him. "Ah, I'd meant to ask you about that," he nodded to Eira's companion, willing his own spider-hand back into a more proper shape, "is that a... an extension of you, or a distinct entity?" "Ooh, now that could be an interesting angle to explore," he murmured, jotting down some notes. Still writing, but speaking a bit more clearly, he responded, "no, not eaten yet. I probably should, though, I'm sure they won't have many snacks in Rurland. Well, I'm sure I could work out some way to digest metals and silicon, but those generally don't, uh... " he trailed off, realizing how off-putting that might be to his companion. "Sorry."
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Horrorshow The fifth gorilla-goon snorted derisively. "What, it takes four of ya to take care of that little thing?," he jerked his head towards the woman in the bear mask, then towards the back of the warehouse. "Yeah, new guy must've gotten a bad batch of Max or somethin'. Someone saw 'im snort somethin', then BOOM," he slapped the goon's chest with the back of his hand, "shadowy tentacles everywhere. Boss said get two of ya, so c'mon." He turned and began heading towards where he thought the fighters would be stabled while waiting for their match, unaware that he was being watched. Stay focused, he reminded himself, you're not here to fight. Just get some of these gorillas away from that lady, improve her odds. You can lose them once you get them far enough away, then go back to tracking Uncle Sasha, make sure he's not getting into too much trouble.
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Bluff check = natural 20, so 40! Notice check = 18, so he just misses!
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Horrorshow "Of course, of course," the interviewer replied, smiling and nodding at their words. "I'll try to leave things open-ended, so you can share as much as your comfortable with. I'm sure the audience would prefer to hear directly from the new hero," she nodded, "rather than some reporter telling them about the new hero. Ah, heroine." At Daisy's threat-promise, Olivia showed little reaction (of course her assistant is intense), keeping up her smile, and even patting the assistant's hand. "I certainly respect your drive, Ms. Gibbons," she locked eyes with the assistant, wondering where he'd seen that look before, "and I would like to assure you that I have no intention of causing your boss any harm. Freedom's citizens love their heroes, and I'm honored to introduce them to one of their newest." She turned to the approaching Patriot and held up her microphone, "ready when you are!"
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Horrorshow "I'd like to think there'd be some comeuppance for killing an American citizen," Davyd replied, then quickly held up a hand, "though, yes, I do get your point. But this isn't a stealth mission, we're all open and friendly, yes?" He still wasn't entirely sure on that -- one the openness and friendliness of Rurland -- though he wondered how much of that was anti-Synthetic prejudice and how much was remembering all the things Talos and his associates had done, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. But that is what we're here for, yeah? To see if the leopard really can change his spots? "We're here to give the world a closer look at an all-Synthetic government, so we should encourage them to be candid by being sincere with them. So, yes," he nodded, "please reach out to whomever you can, and remind them of our interest." He'd been told by his supervisor at DNN that they had already reached out to Rurland, asking for an interview, but never got an affirmative response. They also never got a negative response... or any response, though they could tell the message had been received.
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Horrorshow "More the latter," the interviewer replied with a smile, "but, please, do not hold back on my account! With, ah, with that being said," she withdrew her hand from Ashley and pulled out a small notepad from one of her coat's pockets and flipped it open with a thumb, "I want to make sure I'm doing this right, covering everything that should be covered. So," she tucked the microphone under one arm, used her other hand to fish a pen from another coat pocket, and began making a few marks on the pad, "is there anything in particular you want to make sure we cover? Or, ah, anything that is off-limits for this interview?" She looked up at Ashley, all smile and warmth. And now the delicate art of balancing what the interviewee wants to tell with what the interviewer -- and audience -- wants to know.
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Horrorshow The hotel was a perfectly average establishment, a solid 3-star lodging. Not too fancy, not too cheap; clean and with reliable wifi, but otherwise basic amenities. Its main drawback was that it was a bit further form the city's center than most tourists would prefer.... but they were not tourists, and they would not be staying here long. Davyd opened the door to his room, greeting Eira in a blue-and-gold Claremont gym outfit. "Come in, come in!," he said with a wave, then hopped onto the bed and sat cross-legged, and spread out a folder and some papers before him -- his assignment from DNN, to get into Rurland and learn as much as possible, to educate (and possibly reassure) the curious public. "I know you've received digital copies of all these, since your security's better than on anything I've got. So, do you have any suggestions on how we should approach them? And who to speak with once we're inside? Does Rurland have a... tourist center?"
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Horrorshow "Wish we could've seen it in its prime," Davyd replied from behind Pan, stepping down off the bus after the Forever Boy. He'd gone a bit native, appearing to wear a wool tam and kilt in the green, black, and blue tartan created for New York City, with a blue short-sleeved shirt, beige wool knee socks, and sturdy hiking boots. "I hear there are a lot of castles like this, all over the country, that people can buy up for cheap -- well, relatively cheap -- as long as they're willing to do upkeep and renovations. Oh!," he suddenly snapped his fingers and withdrew his smartphone from... somewhere. "I should ask babusya if she knows of nay good castles to check out in Ukraine, I'm sure there are tons!"
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Horrorshow Davyd leaned against a shopfront window and watched Angelic for a bit. I wonder if that's how she'd be if she'd never... He shook his head to clear the thought away -- no use pondering on what-ifs. At his phone's instruction he looked down and soon spotted Eira's little spider-buddy, and his face lit up. "Ah, hello little one! You are-," he glanced at his phone, "ah, no, you talk this way, right." HAVE HOTEL ROOM, he texted back, ON DNN ACCOUNT. He had been given a card linked to a DNN expense account, though was told it did not have much on it, since the network was still so new. Fortunately, neither he nor Eira needed much. He texted her the address and reservation number. READY WHENEVER YOU ARE.
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Horrorshow "Olivia," the interviewer replied to Daisy, "Olivia Dobrhora. Oh! You have good grip," she said approvingly, "but your hand is like Russian autumn! You should go inside, get warmed up, yes?" Daisy likely noticed something unusual -- while Olivia's heartbeat was a strong and steady as any she'd encountered, her breath, like her own, did not fog in the chilly winter air. The interviewer was still looking to Daisy as she entered the trailer, and so did not lay eyes on her subject until she felt the firm handshake. As she turned to face the Patriot, her eyes widened and smile dropped for half a moment... OH CRAP OH CRAP OH CRAP WHAT NO NO KEEP IT TOGETHER THIS MUST BE PART OF SOME TEST ... but she quickly snapped back to her professional face. "No, no introduction needed," the interviewer laughed, excitedly returning the handshake, "and after tonight, everyone will know the new Patriot, yes? So," she looked over to the DNN camera, "you prefer to do this sitting, or standing?"
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Horrorshow "Wait, what?!," Davyd blurted out in response to the bombshell the producer had just laid on his feet. "I thought I was here just to tag along, to see how it's done, before I dive in. My first interview was to be next month!" Morgana Brink, a heavyset Danish woman chomping on a cigar, shrugged. "What can I say, kid, things change, and you'd best be willing to go with the flow. You can do that, yeah?" "Can I," he sputtered, indignation smothering his trepidation. He yanked the microphone off the table and stormed off towards the makeshift stage, muttering to himself. "Can I go with the... I'll show them how I can..." His form shifted with each step, hair extending to shoulder length and lightening to a strawberry blonde, skin going a bit darker, features softening. Of course, if I screw this up, I can at least do so while wearing another face, so it won't come back to haunt me later in my career. Daisy saw a determined woman striding towards her, microphone in hand. Mid- to late-twenties, wearing a long grey wool coat over a simple blue pantsuit. "Is she ready?," the woman asked, in a vague Eastern European accent.
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Horrorshow Moments after Angelic had begun interacting with the Kyivans, a brown and grey hawk -- a Western Osprey, it seemed, to those who knew such things -- began a spiral descent to her location. This was, of course, no ordinary hawk, but her shapeshifting friend Davyd. His family was originally from Ukraine, evacuating during the Chernobyl disaster; his parents, uncle, and maternal grandmother had moved to America (and eventually to Freedom), while his other grandparents had remained in their homeland. He had come to Ukraine a few times to visit with his paternal grandparents, at their cozy little home just outside Kharkiv, and even visited Korosten once, to see his maternal grandfather. But he'd never actually seen much of Kyiv -- his family usually flew in directly to Kharkiv, and traveled by train from city to city. This was not another family trip, though: he was here on business. Danger News Network, a newly-formed branch of Danger Media, had sent him on a very special assignment, seeing his familiarity with the area as a boon. They'd also suggested Angelic accompany him, though left it to him to ask her. She'd agreed, and soon they were en route. Maybe I'll stay like this for a bit, he thought to himself, let Eira bask in some attention. Ah, I could duck into that alley and change there, out of sight. A Western Osprey darted into a nearby alley, and a few moments later, a young man, dressed like a Typical Ukrainian Youth, stepped out and approached the gathering crowd.
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Horrorshow Davyd nodded at Ace's continued recommendation of Mr. Humberto, then kinda lost focus when he started mentioning the techie stuff. "Hey, you'd know better than me on that, yeah? Ah, no, no, don't have a 'tailor'," he looked down at his outfit, which shifted to a familiar blue-and-gold gym outfit, "this is one of the uniforms I got from Claremont, which they let me keep on account of needing at least one outfit that could stay with me." He grinned, a bit mischievously, and the outfit shifted back to the brown-and-gray outfit he'd worn on arrival. An idea suddenly hit, and now it was his turn to name-drop. "Oh, if your tech folks need some help, I bet Miss Grue and Angelic would have some ideas!" Andromeda's words made him do a double-take, and he kept a close eye on her as she did... whatever it was she did to the GoPro. "Thanks... and, uh, yeah," he kept his eyes on her, "I know some folks, and they know some folks. Might get Angelic to bring in some of those brains from ArcheTech. Ah, sorry, but, where'd you say you were from?" He turned to face Veronica, though an eyestalk slithered up from under the back of his shirt to keep a watch on Andromeda. "Yeah, I think my future's finally starting to, ah, take shape." He tried not to chuckle too much at his pun, with some success. "I'll go see Saul first thin in the morning, you'll let me know of any missions I could help with, and Ace'll get back to me on stuff I can do with Danger Media and that news network."
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Horrorshow I'm getting the feeling they see her as an intruder, Davyd thought, which would make for a good distraction I could use, if I were up to something. But I'm just here to keep an eye on Uncle Sasha. And they look like they're not the sort to be gentle with intruders, so maybe... With the crowd's focus on the fight (or on their own business), it was not too difficult* to shift forms in a way that went unnoticed. Now Davyd looked like one of the gorilla goons, and he reached out to lay a hand on the shoulder of the one in front of him. "Hey," he grunted, "Boss wants us backstage. One'a the fighter's is tweakin'." * if I need to spend an HP to temporarily get the Hide in Plain Sight feat to pull this off, I'll do so.
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Can I try a Sense motive roll for Davyd, to see if he can get a better gauge on what the gorilla-goon's intentions are? If so. that's a... 1d20+15: 27 [1d20=12].
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Horrorshow Davyd looked down sheepishly at Daphne's initial reply (though, to his credit, did not actually begin turning into a sheep). For all that she had taught him over the past two and a half years, all that she had shown and shared with him, he often forgot that she'd had to piece together a lot on her own. Maybe that was why they got along so well: she was just as much a child of Earth as he was, just coming at it from the other way. Her second comment hit him like a bolt, making him look up and his eyes go wide. "Oh, wow! You really think the League would help me like- oh! She's already got it?!" He threw his arms around her, "thank you so much!"
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Artificer Heroditus held a hand up to his eyes as he emerged, wanting to shield them from the glaring, hateful sun... and then immediately doubled over in a coughing fit. "Pfaugh! What is that?!" Smog, it seemed, was particularly bad for Atlantean lungs. He fumbled for the paper mask Leon had made and held it to his face. "That's not another sandstorm, is it? I'm not... wait- no..." He spun around, taking in their surroundings, "where are we? I know we walked a long time, but we should not have been able to reach any of the nearest towns. And yet," he slowly spun around again, "this - no - this almost looks like Freedom City... but more decayed. Did we travel to the future?"
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Artificer Heroditus looked to Phalanx, standing up a bit straighter and puffing out his chest a bit. "Ah, responsibility! Yes, that is something with which I am very familiar, sir! With which all Atlanteans are familiar," he saluted the elder hero again, fist to heart and then temple. "The Stylianos clan has served the city-states of Atlantis for generations, and I am honored to continue that tradition." The mentorship plan began to reveal itself to the young Atlantean, or so he thought. "I know of the types of training the military receives, beyond athletics and combat. Mental preparation, to combat the.... baser instincts. To counter fear and doubt, so that which must be done can be done." He nodded, self-assuredness growing, "and to properly assess the environment in a timely manner."