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State of Grace, State of Sin (IC)


Electra

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"It's...better," said Sharl a little lamely. "I went out there and did what I could. Things were pretty rough last night, but the roads are cleared and the children are home safe. I think I actually made it on TV a couple of times, since I wasn't recognized." He shrugged. "I think it's going to be okay. There were cars back driving on the road as I came in. I don't think anyone remembers being Conquered, which is good." He looked at Gina and finally blurted out, "What's Miss Americana?"

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Gina sighed, wrapping her hands around the bottle and looking down intently at the yellowy-green cap. She'd allowed Sharl to believe many lies, but she wouldn't lie to his face, even if she thought he'd believe her at this point. "Miss Americana is a highly advanced prototype android unit," she said with some difficulty. "I built the unit in my home electronics lab, refined it through field testing, and eventually reached a level where it could pass convincingly for human. The unit has only the most basic of AI functionality, but it is more than sophisticated enough for me to inhabit and control in the same way I inhabit the computer to visit your online environment."

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"Oh, okay," said Sharl, still sounding doubtful. "So you didn't tell anyone so you could keep your secret identity? That makes sense..." He knew that was part and parcel of the superhero code, and he could understand why someone who wasn't physical like Gina would make a body like that for herself. "And I suppose it's much safer than building a battlesuit like Daedalus. He really got smacked around. Does anyone else know?" he asked Gina.

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"Doktor Archeville does, I told him because I knew he would find out eventually, and telling him neutralized the danger of his curiosity. And Dragonfly figured it out yesterday, the same way that you realized something wasn't quite right." Gina kept her eyes focused on the bottle in her hands, as though waiting for it to reveal some great secret. "And it's nothing to do with keeping safe. When the robot takes a hit, I bleed from it, like you saw yesterday. And it's not much to do with a traditional secret identity. Miss Americana... I didn't lie to you. I can't leave the house, I can't go out and be a hero. And if people realized what I was behind the full-body costume, I wouldn't even be able to go out by proxy anymore. It's all I have."

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Sharl looked at her, feeling his heart twist in his chest again, for all that he didn't really have either. "Gina, you're a hero," he said quietly, "even when you're not using that body. You saved my life and my sanity, kept me from being just deleted code in a file somewhere, or worse...you're my only friend out here. You're the person who taught me how to _be_ a hero, that it wasn't just wearing costumes and getting into fights. That it was caring for something that...that no one else would even have realized was a person. You deserve so much more."

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"I have more than I deserve already," Gina said with a shrug. "Look at my house, look at my powers. I'm rich, I can buy anything I want. I'm smarter than pretty much anyone in the world. It should be enough for anybody.The world doesn't care who deserves what." She looked up at him then, but couldn't meet and hold his gaze. After a second, she looked away, back to her computers. "I was a hero online for awhile, Cyberknife. That wasn't a lie either. I did some good, just from here in the basement, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to do things IR... in the real world."

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"You know, Gina," said Sharl, choosing his words with great care. "There are...there are people in Tronik who have problems with the outside. It's actually worse in our city, because there are so many more resources available in homes, and because the technology is so much more advanced than it is here. It's not a weakness of yours. There have to be ways you can help yourself, and you probably wouldn't even need to give away your secret ID..."

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"Sharl," Gina said, sounding utterly weary. "I don't expect you to, indeed, don't think you'd be capable of understanding the exact depth and breadth of my intellect. That's all right, but I want you to believe me right now when I say that I'm fully aware of all the "treatments" and "exposure therapies" and "well-regulated medications" that purport to be able to cure me of all my neuroses. But I earned these neuroses one at a time, fair and square, and I'm not interested in discussing it with you or anyone else. Like I said, I'm quite wealthy, and that's enough to make me eccentric instead of crazy. I can live with that." She turned fully to her computer and began typing rapidly, hotkeying up various mail services and news aggregators at a fantastic rate.

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With her back turned, she couldn't see the crestfallen look that crossed Sharl's face. "This doesn't change the fact that you're my best friend, Gina. I'm happy to help you anyway I can, and to be your sidekick when you're Miss Americana. I promised you that I owed you everything, and I meant it," he finally said. "This doesn't change any of how I feel about you." And it didn't, though he did feel bad knowing how many problems his friend had. "What can I do to help?"

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"Just... let's just keep things the way they have been," Gina suggested, her voice a little bit tight. "You can still go out with Miss Americana and do sidekick work until I figure out how to get you back home. I'm close now, maybe just a matter of days or weeks. Don't tell anyone anything about me, or about the robot, or any of that stuff. I know you can keep a secret, you've done well so far. And you've proved that you can handle yourself in tough situations, so I see no point in making you hang around here more than necessary. You're free to go around wherever you like, just so long as you make sure to keep in touch."

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"All right," said Sharl quietly. "I'm going to let my...program rest, I guess, and hook myself back up to the mobile emitter down here. I'll be around the house some today if you need me, then I'll go out and see if anyone needs more help....and someday," said Sharl, having gone so quiet Gina'd almost thought he'd left, "when I'm home again, and I have children, I'll tell them about the hero from another world who saved me when everything was lost; who gave me my life and my future back. And it won't be about Miss Americana. It'll be you." And with that, he did fly up through the ceiling.

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Gina waited until he was gone, her face impassive, then gave in and thudded her elbows down on the desk in front of her, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. She stayed that way, quite motionless, for several long minutes before inhaling a breath that seemed like half a sob and pulling herself back to the tasks at hand. The first and most important step was obviously to track down the robot and get it back to her lab, and if she was lucky, figure out exactly what had happened after she'd lost contact. If it had become widely known that Miss Americana was nothing more than a sad robotic shell for a pathetically introverted gadgeteer... no, she wasn't going to start thinking that way unless it was necessary.

She set up a shielded phone connection to mask the origin and details of her phone communications, a trivial chore she'd done often enough she could practically do it in her sleep. Which was good, since she was still feeling sort of tired and under the weather. With that done, she sent a text message to the phone number Dragonfly had made available to her colleagues, using Miss Americana's contact number to send with. Feeling much better now, looking for an important lost possession. Any ideas?

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Mara blinked blearily at her cell phone. She'd been expecting this text - or call, or e-mail, or somewhat more invasive intrusion into her warehouse systems - and had set up an alert to make sure she got to it in good time, but that didn't mean she was any happier to be woken out of her unrestful nap at- what time is it - morning? - later than that - nngh - mornings - message - right - cryptic - probably a good idea - even over a secure line

She really couldn't be bothered to reach out for the little phone; instead, lights danced behind her eyes as she blearily glanced from her couch in the lofted living area of her warehouse to the slightly shorter couch nearby. Should be careful where you leave things, came the wry reply back over the unopened phone. If she didn't know what the android was she could almost have mistaken it for asleep, laid down as it was. She'd somehow resisted the temptation to try poking around at what was clearly an extraordinarily nice piece of work, but had taken the liberty of throwing together a gently-glowing, bare-bones widget that sat on the table nearby, scrambling near any incoming signals that weren't the phone or warehouse systems. Figured important possessions were best hidden but not out of sight. Can take it anywhere you choose.

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Miss Americana's mysterious operator did not take long in replying to Dragonfly's message. Depends on condition of item. Probably somewhat banged up, still in operational state? Indeed, the android's illusion of sleep or unconsciousness was so perfect, if Dragonfly hadn't known better, she'd surely have been fooled. It was breathing evenly and slowly, and every once in awhile, an eye twitch or small movement in one of the limbs disturbed its stillness. It certainly seemed to be in good working order, despite the beating it had taken.

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Some damage, Mara confirmed, but functioning. Impressive construction. Imagine some...camouflage...took fine-tuning. Still. Safe for transport to anywhere reasonable. She rubbed her eyes, making her way downstairs to start her coffee maker. Resisted more personal investigation. Did shield it from remote tampering, however. Just in case. Also privacy concerns.

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Transport to my private lab would be ideal. Secure, low-profile, hopefully not too far. In the privacy of her basement, Gina chewed on her lip and debated the ethics versus utility of trying to triangulate in on where Dragonfly was located. She decided against it. Curiosity was all well and good, but if she wanted privacy, she had to be willing to grant it, up to a point. Besides, if the place was too far away, the other gadgeteer would have to say something. In Hanover, looks like office park. An address followed. Security will be taken care of.

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Mara glanced at the nearest monitor, which pulled up a map of the city. She could have done that in her head, of course, but mornings were a foul and evil time, coffee or not. She yawned again, taking a final swig of her coffee before setting down the mug and heading back upstairs for her gauntlets and the robot. City contains three state routes and an interstate. Won't take too long by motorcycle.

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Perfect. Will be waiting for you. Thx. Gina set aside the phone and concentrated on getting ready to go out. She actually felt a little strange about leaving her body, for the first time in quite a long time. She supposed that after yesterday, it was understandable to feel somewhat vulnerable, but if she couldn't drop the flesh body, then the game was up whether or not she had her robot or her secret. All the same, she took pains to visit the bathroom before she went, as well as digging into the larder for a high quality breakfast of nacho chips with cheesy bean dip and guacamole. That took care of pretty much all the food groups when paired with a tall mug of coffee. Suitably fueled for the journey, Gina returned to the basement and reclined her ergonomic chair, closing her eyes and heading to a place she knew well.

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Mid-morning traffic wasn't great, but transporting the robot body meant dimensional storage, storage meant gauntlets, gauntlets meant costume, and costume meant other drivers (not to mention the local police) were a little more willing to turn a blind eye toward speed limits as long as she wasn't being unsafe. That and the nearby state route cut down the driving time by more than a little and before long Dragonfly was pulling up in front of the address she'd been given.

She slowed her motorcycle to a halt, visor taking a quick scan of the nearby buildings out of habit as she glanced around. "Low-profile, maybe. Probably secure. Not very secluded...." She frowned, but shook her head. more important for spatial experiments - isolation - Hanover's likely convenient

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The address she'd been given was for a two story office building in a complex full of them, completely nondescript and with not so much as a nameplate on the door to indicate anyone even leased it. Some of the buildings nearby were obviously tenanted, with cars in front and people in and out, but this one was quiet and empty. There was a keypad/retina combo lock next to the door, but since the lock clicked open at Dragonfly's approach, the issue of security was moot.

The door opened into what was obviously supposed to be a reception area, but was unused space at the moment. A dusty wraparound desk stood near the door, with two dusty waiting-room chairs nearby. Lights turned on leading down a corridor, past a couple of unremarkable wooden doors, and into another locking-but-unlocked room, this one with a door that looked more like an airlock. Once through the door, the empty office space was suddenly a high-tech engineering laboratory, complete with state of the art equipment. It was immensely clean and obviously frequently used. A fresh pot of coffee stood ready in the kitchenette, but the place seemed vacant.

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Dragonfly raised an eyebrow, looking around as she made her way into the lab. "Impressive," she noted aloud. She wasn't entirely sure if Miss Americana's controller was present, of course, but she had to assume there was some sort of monitoring device setup. Her own workspace certainly had one. "Almost envious." She couldn't quite pin down the 'almost' there, and frowned. clean - well-equipped - likely superior to my warehouse in many ways - but isn't - mmh - bias? - not 'home' - too clean - organized - close to busier parts of the city

She shook her head, still looking around. "Almost," she repeated. "Not quite. Non-technical reasons."

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Dragonfly recognized the robot that detached itself from the charging station at the wall, or rather, she recognized the design. It was very close in appearance to Miss Americana's robotic lab assistant Mavis, except that this one was blue in the trim where Mavis was red, and this one had an extra set of arms in the front, giving it a vaguely insectile look. It rolled up to Dragonfly on sturdy treads. "Welcome, Dragonfly," it said, and it was difficult to tell whether that was a programmed response or a real person making use of the robot's voice synthesizer. "Thank you for coming. Would you care for refreshments?"

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"No. Thank you." Dragonfly tilted her head, lights just barely flickering behind her eyes before she caught herself and left the robot's electronics alone. "Had some coffee on my way out. Still haven't slept much...plan to do that later. Need to limit my caffeine. Assuming you are or work for Miss Americana?"

She paused, blinking, and added, "Well. Americana that isn't in my storage, anyway. Mind behind the...not sure. Mildly regret not checking. Metal, plastic, carbon, maybe."

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"Synthetic neuromesh interlaced with multiwall carbon nanotubes, over a frame of mostly polycarbonate," the robot supplied helpfully, sounding more human now, if still totally devoid of any defining personal characteristics. "And a few proprietary tricks. It's good you didn't start peeking around, though, you'd have activated the failsafes." The robot trundled over to a control panel and dropped a stainless steel table on guy lines down from the ceiling. It was hardly the only piece of suspended equipment, space was obviously at a premium here. "You may place the robot on the table at your convenience."

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Dragonfly raised an eyebrow, but shook her head and the ghost of a tired smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Have an engine a few inches across that warps the fabric of space. Probably shouldn't...begrudge others' 'proprietary tricks'," she wryly replied. "Still. Glad I contained my curiosity. Phrase...mmh. 'I would sooner destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself.' Good movie."

The engineer stretched both hands out over the table; in stark contrast to how objects normally unfolded back into normal space the process was much slower and more...delicate, somehow. The android didn't so much twist back into reality as reality around the table twisted instead, the overall impression like nothing so much as pulling back a cover to reveal the unconscious-looking Miss Americana already prone where she needed to be. "....not that the process isn't safe anyway," Dragonfly observed a little defensively in response to an unasked question that was probably just in her own head, her gauntlets powering back down to idling. "But thought you'd appreciate the care. Not that delicate, but folding up spatial dimensions makes people nervous. For some reason."

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