Dariusprime

Mona calmly set down her coffee and watched Claude run. No doubt that pocket watch, or whatever it was, had alerted him to more of the "problems" from earlier. Mona had just turned to Selena when she too, stopped. Although she wasn't exactly frozen. A waitress stood in mid stride by a nearby table. "Interesting. Time dilation? Dimensional desyncing?" she mused while standing up. Turning to Selena, she smiled and said, "On the clock." And then she floated next to Claude. One moment she wasn't. The next she was. Her face looked serious. "What's up?" She scanned the park at super-human speeds for the source of Claude's alarm.

Nick stopped mid chew and gave Claude a deadpan look. Once Claude's composure slipped, Nick couldn't help but chuckle silently along with him. Before he could make a crack about running for public office, Claude continued and Nick listened intently. Secret agent. Yeah, secret agent had to be put on the list too. Although only knowing him a brief time, Nick's read of Claude always included "cagey". That he admitted to double-speak and vagaries only confirmed that much. He obviously connected with something larger than himself. Which of course only brought up more questions. Sometimes his head hurt from chasing his thoughts around. He wondered how super geniuses managed. Probably smart enough to not chase their thoughts around. Focusing, Nick watched the clippings with obvious curiosity. Downing more okra, the three articles received a thorough inspection. For his part, Nick seemed pretty nonplussed by the news. The conclusion didn't take a super genius in this case. Nick did quirk an eyebrow at the last one. Instead of stewing on the details, he set down his biscuit and signed, "I assume then that you were Kit-Bash? So what's the next secret?"

Fulcrum: 1 post to Vox Park Time Job (1) Vox: 1 rollover (Fulcrum) + 14 posts = 15 posts = 2 pp + 1 pp (20 Q) = 3 pp Extradimensional Birdwatching Club (5) Here & Now & Then (4) Look Ma, No Self, No Sense, No Death! (2) Rainbow Connection (1) Tech Compliance (2) 20 Questions

Nick looked over from his scrutiny of the whiteboard. At seeing Headmistress Summers, his perked up and waved to her. While he hadn't gotten on her bad side, yet anyway, she read as the sort of even-handed authority figure he could relate to. At what she said, however, he turned thoughtful, looking over the designs once more. Once Micah explained the situation, Nick smiled. One, that his absence didn't cause offense, and two, that the design had a good cause in mind. He couldn't remember meeting a Danica, but hey, anything for a classmate and potential friend. Funny thing though. "Heelies" meant nothing to Nick. The name though, plus the schematics, made deciphering the analogy simple enough. His smile widened. Turning to Ms. Velásquez and Summers, he signed, his form quickly improving, "Expo? What requirements and timeline are we looking at?" Yes, he still ignored the cubes and the wonders being wrought with them.

1d20+7: 17 [1d20=10] There we go!

Now Ashley and Nick didn't start off on the best note. In fact, her little demonstration on the day he moved in only made him more curious. Claremont was full of secrets, and apparently so was Ashley. All of that became so much noise over the current events. Nick agreed 110% with Ashley. 120%. Add your adverbs. Only in hindsight did Nick realize his fatal error. Yes, birds pooped. This many birds pooped a lot. Epic, even mythical, proportions. Enough that nations would go to war over it. Once the "rain" storm commenced, Nick disappeared into the forest in a desperate and futile attempt to evade the bombing. He only kept his cover by circling around the camp to the latrine. From there, he made his way back to his tent. Bad luck, poor guy. The ick factor made him contemplate burning his clothes, but he didn't have that many outfits. Plus he'd be hard-pressed to burn a vintage Journey t-shirt. Still feeling clean, frankly, never felt so good. Nick ate his breakfast with something akin to contained terror. Take one bite, look up at the beady-eyed horde, swallow. His noise-canceling headphones proved invaluable. They didn't eliminate the noise but did at least make it manageable. Sleep however had eluded him for several hours. You know, because of the beady-eyed horde of pigeons. His yawning and general sleepy face betrayed that much. Yes, Ashley. $@^#ing pigeons. The faintest ghost of a smile appeared at Mia's jokes. He made sure not to let you-know-who see that though.

Another good question. Nick didn't know Benny well. He didn't treat the big guy any differently than other students, but their paths had never really crossed. Nick had learned quickly how reputations worked, or didn't. They did visit the tech lab together though. Plus he looked like a fellow fidgeter. He made a mental note to really have a chat with Benny sometime. In the meantime, a quick message appeared on his omnipresent tablet. Looking at the screen made him realize that even with a large font reading the question would be a challenge. Thankfully, a down front seat proved advantageous. He held up a hand and scurried within Corona's reading distance. The tablet read, "What made you decide to become a superhero?" Once she read the message, he scurried back. He listened while turning the stress ball over in his hands. Her transition to superhero interested him for several reasons. She touched on some factors, perhaps, perhaps not, but what really helped her make the decision intrigued the small teen. She probably could have simplified her life by not returning to the super world. For someone having doubts by powers and superheroics, any answer from her would be enlightening.

Ashley cursed. Davyd pointed and let out a warning. Nick squinted. What could that possibly...be? Oh dear. That's a lot of birds. Surely, a flock of birds couldn't be that dangerous. Then again he had also seen The Birds a tad young as well. A chill went up his spine. Alarm and curiosity wrestled for control of his brain. So frozen in contemplation of the feathery sight, Nick completely missed Mia's matter magic. His ears picked up the flock's call, a cacophony of its own, and Mia's exclamation. He blinked at her workings. Especially how he missed what had to be a plethora of energy emissions to build that. Wow! Now those are powers! And she teleports too! Now was not the time! To stay or to go for the shelter? On the one hand, the flock wasn't necessary dangerous. Although bird poop didn't factor into his thoughts frankly. They didn't sound like predatory birds at this distance. On the other hand, Mia would build a shelter if she suspected a problem. Back to the first hand, he'd rather not blow his cover. In his hesitation, staying behind his tree and peeking out became his choice.

Nick sat quietly, as well, he usually did. Down front but off to the right side had been seat of choice. Mixed with the crowd, he was another student in attendance. He listened carefully and with obvious interest, and addressed his restlessness with a stress ball shaped like a 20-side die. He appreciated Corona appearing. The menace of public speaking had to be enough, but appearing as a reformed supervillain must take the stress to a new level. The topic, however, held utmost importance. Maybe not to Nick but someone in the school. He smiled warmly at the end of her opening remarks. Personally, the small teen doubted he could lash out at anyone. He hesitated even during Doom Room exercises against holograms of non-human foes. He understood crummy though. He sighed that silent sigh and turned his attention to the first question, from Lulu. The questions and Corona's answers both were excellent. Well, maybe not Ashley's per say. Although props to Corona for fielding the question perfectly. That one aside, heavier questions could be expected for such a speaker. Kind of the point really. His ears perked at a familiar voice. He didn't need to look to recognize Claude, or that him speaking without his accent meant a very serious mood. Nick slumped a bit at the question. He knew what that question meant to Claude too. The first ideas of questions of his own began forming. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to ask.

Notice: 1d20+7: 8 [1d20=1] Ha!

Vox “Homesick” Claremont Academy October 2019 “You okay, Nicky?” Nick looked up at the laptop. The face of a white-haired man looked back at him. The man’s face furrowed in concern. Nick’s eyes flicked up to the small camera before looking down again. Covering the keyboard sat a neatly bound folder. The title read, “Power Points: Nicholas Brown, 10-7-2019”. Nick opened the folder and thumbed through the pages. Conclusions headed the final entry. “Nicky?” The petite teen slumped onto his elbows and reread the page. The man on the screen fell silent. Nearby a clock ticked out the interval. Just as the man took a breath, Nick looked up and sighed without a sound. His eyes were limned with red. Moving the folder aside, Nick typed a passage in the chat window and hit enter. The man, the spitting image of Nick in 50 years, slowly read out the message. “Unfortunately, the probability of Mr. Brown regaining a semblance of typical human vocal patterns is very low. His powers appear to have perman… permanently remodeled, and continue to remodel, multiple regions of his brain. Please see Page 17. Additionally, our current projections suggest his (hard-won) control over his vocal abilities will likely be surpassed by his baseline power within 10-12 months. Among the ramifications, Mr. Brown should anticipate less precision based on volume modulation and a gradual loss of his physiological disruption (“Resonance”) capacity. See Page 23.” The two men, one senior and one adolescent, leaned back in their chairs simultaneously. Both looked up in thought, their faces neutral. Nick followed the outlines of the study room’s tin ceilings. His mind, always awash in thoughts, wondered if they were original. The other man, however, had other thoughts. “I know this has been difficult, Nick,” Still looking at the ceiling, Nick noted the change in address. “Still is. I’m so proud at how well you’ve adapted. You’ve worked hard and asked for help. That’s maturity right there. I’m glad you’re still visiting with Dr. Marquez. I know you don’t want medicine. Please think about it. It could help.” Nick’s eyes narrowed at the last sentence and he looked at the screen. The man looked back placidly. “This meant a lot to you didn’t it? Being able to talk again?” Nick nodded. He picked up the folder and continued reading. Non-neuroplastic changes are more difficult to quantify. Mr. Brown’s abilities are no doubt Psionic, but the possible Cosmic component has proven an elusive influence. Ongoing monitoring is recommended to rapidly discern detrimental anatomic and physiological alterations. The man leaned forward on his elbows. “This isn’t like you, Nick. As bad as it’s been, I never got a sense of self pity.” A unvoiced question passed between them. Nick slowly typed a response and hit enter. Reading the message, the man choked up and looked away. The two sat in silence as the clock ticked away. “Don’t come back,” the man whispered. He couldn’t look into the camera. “There’s nothing here for you, Nick. They don’t want you back. And before you ask, no. Everyone knows you here. You’d be all alone. You know how long memories are. Claremont is the best shot you have at a better life.” “Please don’t come back.”

Nick jumped at Claude's entry. Between the subatomic activity and the sudden smell of food, he had been completely focused elsewhere. Up he stood a tad quickly and followed Claude through the building. The rooms were noted, but more interestingly the decor. The place felt a bit dated much like the house itself. That wasn't bad though. It still felt rather homey. That they bypassed the dining room bothered Nick none the least. If anything he looked relieved. In his mind, old memories of family gatherings with his rather, shall we say, martinet grandparents soured him to the very concept of dining rooms. The breakfast nook though he could dig... ...whoa, Nelly. Nick froze upon sighting the cornucopia. The sheer volume was one thing. That he suddenly journeyed to his other grandparents' farmhouse was another. Grandma Jane made the best potato salad and honey-glazed biscuits. Holding a plate of biscuits, covered in flour: a favorite memory of learning the recipe. He puckered up and sniffled to keep from crying. He nodded at the invitation to dine, rubbed his eyes, and saddled up next to Claude. Besides a glance at the cat, he was in his own little world. His plate loaded with a bit of everything, sans pie, Nick sat down and did indeed dig in. Although he had the manners to wait for Claude to sit down first. Chewing a bite of biscuit, Nick stared off in thought. Honey glaze didn't give anything away, but the slight heat of cayenne pepper did. The cuisine didn't just hail from his neck of the woods. These were family recipes. So many questions. One biscuit all but vanished and the okra started down the same path. Again he could see his grandma cooking them. Slowly chewing a bite, Nick signed, "How did you make all of this so fast? And where did you get these recipes? Is that a tan?" All came out in a tumble.

Oh heck no. No way on this or any Earth was he going to be left out. Officially allowed or not. His initial thought of waking Mr. Jorgenson disappeared as slipped outside and put on his jacket against the chill. He took a second to take in the camp's signals. Judy's radio signal and the transmitter spiked first, but Jorgensen's snoring mixed with another set. Did Danica snore? Focus. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Nick quietly followed after Rebound and Watchdog. He didn't need to stay close. Their footsteps echoed through the ground, and their biosignatures sang through the quiet night. Something else he figured out was he didn't really need to use his eyes much in the dark. Bat-like he was not, but navigating through the woods under the stars proved unproblematic. The kid in him felt like an auditory version of the alien from Predator. Which of course he was too young to see but totally did thanks Uncle. Now smiling, the small teen stopped at the treeline and watched the scene unfold. He did have the good sense to slip behind a tree. What was Mia up to? Where was Davyd? And where did that dog come from? Judging from Ashley's tone and Mia's response, this was shaping up to be a fun, fun night.

In all fairness, Nick didn't really know what to expect. The expiration date did dovetail with the apparent age of the thing. Beyond that, yeah, he had no idea what a beer can included. About the only person he knew to ask would be his Great Uncle Otis, but time and space put certain constraints on that particular option. He jotted down the brand name before returning the can. Maybe a search back in the world would reveal more. The talk of this world's status soured his mood somewhat. He joined the others around the fire, sneaking peeks of the day's pictures, but didn't contribute much beyond being a good listener. Still the day had been a good one, and he was content. He only nibbled his dinner that night. Which was saying something given his hummingbird metabolism. Perhaps Ashley's comment had put him off further. An early bedtime, promises of trips or not, suited him just fine. Into his sleeping bag and out like a light he went in record time. His dreams coalesced peacefully. Mainly they focused on the day's sights and the sounds of the sea. After his stomach settled a bit, the one he would remember involved Mia and him building a shrink ray while discussing the proper settings for a Giant Carolina Parakeet. Meanwhile Keetzilla rampaged through the city. No freshly washed car was safe.

Nick shifted a bit uncomfortably at Aquaria's response. She either didn't know or wasn't about to divulge information. Frankly, how to differentiate those two avenues was beyond Nick. Maybe a social butterfly could manage it, but verbal fencing did not suit his strengths. His face falling in disappointment, he nodded in understanding. Although the talk of books did bring up other topics... Lulu brought him back from reality. As she spoke, a gamut of emotions crossed his face. The first, at the mention of "mystical", emotion looked to be simple confusion. Then skepticism. His face lit up in shock next, and his eyes widened further as she continued. Her closing comments though pushed him over the edge. Nick discovered early on that not talking included things like laughing, crying, even grunting. He also discovered that some of those sounds were easier to suppress than others. Laughing silently, for example, came naturally to him. So like a muted video, Nick stood there with a big grin on his face and nearly doubled over bell laughing. All without so much as a giggle. This went on a for a bit. Eventually, slowly, he gathered himself together, rubbed his eyes, and through a couple of silent after-giggles, typed a message, "Never even occurred to me! The mystical side messes with the brain, Ms. Innsmouth?" Something about that phrase, "words have real power", resonated with him. He'd said as much describing his own abilities. Now his research would include super science, aliens, cosmic entities (ie deities?), and magic, specifically words of power. The last item still made him skeptical, but hey, he'd already seen some strange, strange stuff at Claremont. Some of which could, he guessed, be called magic. Why not magic? So much to learn.

First Notice: 1d20+7: 18 [1d20=11] Notice to spot Mia: 1d20+7: 13 [1d20=6]

Nick apparently missed all the fun. At least at the recovery site of the beer can. The group looked to be returning to camp as he rounded a rock. Part of him was disappointed at his response time, but the better half of him responded positively to spotting Davyd. None the worse for wear at that. He silently drifted into the procession. At the camp, Nick listened to the conversation. His eyes flicked around to the person talking at the time and visibly looked to be weighing the issue. As it continued, he motioned for the can, and if provided, took his quiet time examining the find. Like cataloging a crime scene. The brand, for many and varied reasons, meant nothing to him. Perhaps a "Best by" date or brewery stamp would tell him more. That in mind, he turned it over and around, eyeing it closely in the fire light and feeling its weight. This innocuous thing dovetailed nicely with an idea he had before the trip. He loved being here, no doubt, but a small part of him wondered if this dimension was best left undisturbed at all. Protected but pristine. Not to mention dimensional travel kind of worried him. No one asked his opinion though.

Nick cocked his head in question but just rolled with the situation. The energy signatures though did pique his interest, and he surmised at about 90% probability that the pulses were security credentials. Likely systems performing handshake mechanisms. His eyes narrowed on the lintel fully intending to dive deep into the analysis. The cat though had other ideas, and Nick reflexively dampened his senses as he focused on it. Nodding to Claude, Nick shuffled into the sitting room while taking in the house. As soon as Claude left, a feeling of loneliness settled over the small teen. Nick didn't feel lonely often. His great uncle would say he was self-contained, but really he didn't have many people he could connect to. Something about this place though made his skin prickle. The sensation didn't feel bad per say just off. Like the out-of-sync feeling from outside. With that tinkling sound now more prominent. The other reason he felt alone had a more prosaic reason. The furnishings in the sitting room alone were likely worth more than his parents' net worth. They weren't poor but nowhere the old money vibe this place gave off. He silently hoped Claude's "boss" turned out to be a good guy. Or at least tolerable for a free lunch and visit. Nick sat stiffly in one of the chairs and observed the room. Beyond the occasional breath, the ticking of the clock, and sounds of subatomic particles, an eerie silence pervaded the room. Wait, subatomic particles?

Nick pointedly did not look in the direction of the rainbow light. He even went so far as immerse his senses into the Cacophony. The sound reminded him of quickly tuning through radio stations, and in a way that surprised him, did seem to make the situation bearable. After a moment his focus returned to the sisters. He blinked in surprise at Claude's intervention. Yeah, Claude was good people. The young man looked pleased. The sisters' reactions did not come as a great surprise though. Well, perhaps Ashley's rather subdued response. Claude must have really thrown her for a loop. In response, he smiled and nodded to each of the sisters. After a quick nod of thanks to Claude, Nick took his leave and returned to his table. Nope, still not looking at the cubes plural. He sat down and slid down his chair a bit with his tablet in hand. The table shook with a thump, and Nick grimaced silently. Rubbing his knee, he typed a message and held up the tablet for Mia and Micah, "Sorry about the delay." Nope, still not looking over at the cubes. He focused on the whiteboard drawings before looking to Micah. Huh, personal transport!

In for a penny, in for a pound. Is that how it went? Having extended the olive branch, Nick must have decided to make the best of it. Ashley's raised voice startled him as he began typing. The tiny smile he hid must have been about what she said to them. Although to be frank, "Fun-Sized Mark Walhberg" was pretty good zinger. At the thought, he glanced over to Claude before going back to typing. His new message read, "I bet we can make peace. Worth a try? Please?" As held up the tablet, he glanced back and forth between the sisters. He pointedly did not look in the direction of the boys working on the cube. Nope.

Nick didn't really know what else to do. His appointed rounds complete, including offering a hug to Abby, he hovered by the snack table and accepted a slice of pie. The stories made him lose his appetite. A poke or two at the pie with his fork and he opted to eat it, if only to be polite to Lulu. Beyond that though he listened and watched and tried to be supportive. He voted, hesitantly, after looking around to see if he was legible to do so. Ill-at-ease transitioned to visible discomfort. He glanced at the door with the plain intent of perhaps sneaking out. The club centered the right people. He was a fifth wheel so to speak. Although unexpressed, Nick thought Mia would be an excellent officer. One, she didn't like hierarchy and thus would understand the responsibility. Two, she didn't really sound like she wanted a officer role. In Nick's mind, someone that didn't want "political" power was the perfect person for the job. As he inched his way towards the door, he gave her a thumbs up and nodded his support. Maybe she interpreted it as more support for Abby or herself. Either way was a win.

Nick couldn't help but feel amused by Aquaria's mannerisms. The chameleon eyes especially made him smile. That didn't subtract from the conversation, but for lack of a better term, actually "humanized" her somewhat for him. She was already a person in the philosophical sense, but the more he interacted with her, the more she real she felt. Her seeming defensiveness though did subtract from the conversation. The reply reminded him of the talk earlier. She had to carefully phrase and dance around certain subjects. Didn't always work given the reaction from some of the students. The Atlanteans he understood, even if he didn't understand the history. But curiosity remained, and Nick hoped he could find a way to continue the conversation. Constructively and politely. "That's the issue," he wrote on the tablet, "That's what I'm asking. The mechanics of human speech that hurt your throat can be quantified. Understood on a physical level. Adapting for language outside of your normal range." He ran a finger around the edge of the tablet, and after they finished reading, presented another message momentarily, "You are saying that Lemurian has deleterious effects on the human brain. I want to know the hows and whys." "I'm hearing is that understanding the words is the problem. What are 'words that go beyond your words' then?" He munched on a double chocolate chip cookie as he presented the message. Offered the plate of cookies to the two again as a cover for creeping anxiety.

Nick grimaced as he slid off the scooter. A quick stretch and pop of his back signaled that he was okay. Just that the ride didn't exactly do his tailbone any comfort. A few circles and he stood up straight. Adjusting his shoulder bag, NIck shrugged at the scooter comment and hung the helmet up. He signed, "No need. Faster anyway." He glanced at Claude curiously at the follow up but said nothing. Or signed rather. That house though. Nick looked it over approvingly. Craftsman style did not occur often in his neck of the woods, and he seemed to like it. Then he paused as his senses took the place in. The sensation was akin to watching an out-of-sync video. He blinked and turned his attention to Claude. Nick wondered what the big secret could be. Having his world turned upside down ironically made him more open-minded. Claude was really a cyborg from the future? He was an apprentice to a shape-shifting dragon with a Boston accent? He was, in fact, the Scout from Team Fortress 2? The weirdness of the property suggested the dragon. "My pleasure," he signed as the two headed up to the door. He smiled and patted Claude on the back reassuringly. Everyone had secrets, and if by choice or necessity, certain ones needed to be shared, then Nick would keep them. Standing on the front porch, Nick turned and looked over the property. The neighborhood sounds were...gone. Even some of the cosmic particles that whistled in the undertone felt muted. Except for a tinkling rhythm at once familiar and foreign. His smile faltered a bit, but he turned his attention back to the door.

Okay, late to the party. Rolling and will edit as needed, AA! Search: 1d20+5 = 12.

"That is all I ask," Nick signed back. Retrieving his tablet, Nick looped around the ill-fated cube and back to the Judy and Ashley. His gaze followed the action among the cube group. Took a lot of willpower to refrain from doing a "I'm watching you" gesture at the cube itself. Eventually, he stopped next to the pair, still watching the techies set up their experiment. His thoughts dwelt equally on the cube and his brief conversation with Claude. Actually stopping the other group himself seemed unlikely, and the few moments journey let him rationalize its safety. Surely, such a thing couldn't be that dangerous. Maybe fry Ben's computer but nothing more. Claude's keen eye watched it now. Even if Nick's censored version of Claude's "time cop" rule book still felt worrisome. 'No one can serve two masters' and all. Plus Ms. Velasquez stood ready to intervene. Right? Looking to the sisters, Nick typed out a message, "I should get back to my group. Would you like to join us? Be easier for Ms. Velasquez to keep up on two groups too."