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Habitat for Metahumanity (IC)

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Haiti, 4/[DATE TBD]/2011:

Haiti had been hit hard by natural disasters in recent years. With the recovery efforts now under way in earnest, more and more charity organizations from the United States were starting to pay attention. Most recently: Habitat for Humanity.

In addition to charity organizations, several of Freedom Cities Heroes were also on the volunteer list. Their goal was to help the people of this world, after all. Not just the residents of Freedom.

The legal issues were flattened out by people in suits in large buildings. Government funding was secured. Plane tickets were issued, and Habitat for Metahumanity was on it's way south! The team of heroes selected was some of the strongest and fastest around. Perfect for heavy lifting and quick building. Not a few days later, they were on their way to build an entire town in just under a week. First stop: Orlando Florida. Then: Haiti. If all went well, this trip would make history.

---

The heroes were given a short ride from the airport to a small build site just off the northern shores of Haiti. It was a location that was out of the way of much of the Haitian civilization, but one that their sponsors were hoping would make for a fast, uninterrupted build for our heroes, and even faster relief for Haiti.

"Alright!" Blueshift stretched as she hopped out of the lead jeep's passenger door. Her mind was already running a-mile-a-minute. She was formulating ideas on where each of the buildings should go, and researching Feng Shui over the internet while she was at it. She pulled a bag of two foot long stakes from the back of the truck. "Let's start staking. Lumbers en route. Can't waste time!"

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Marceau jumped awkwardly out of the the jeep he had been carried in, a similar bag of stakes over his shoulder. He'd signed up for the job in his civilian identity, not wishing to attract more notice than he had to, what with his alternate identity being a near-total unknown.

He surveyed his surroundings with a sinking feeling, noting with slight surprise the general lack of trees. He'd heard stories told by some of the other janitors about how Haiti was a tropical island, covered in dense rainforest where vicious predators lurked. Last time I tell ANYONE I'm afraid of forests unasked he thought. He looked to the heroine Blueshift: "Where abouts should we start staking, Mz. Blueshift?" he rumbled. "What's the plan, in general terms?".

He fervently hoped that there was in fact a plan of some sort in place. Years of travelling without so much as an idea of what he was doing had told him the problems of making things up as he went along, though by all accounts the tech-heroine was a master of that. He also hoped he would have a chance to dispose of his armor somewhere, the heat beat down like a hammer, bringing with it a deep pang of homesickness.

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Push managed to wrestle his bag and hammer from the back of the jeep (he'd taken no small amount of flack from the airport security vis-a-vis bringing it with him, but eventually deciding to fly himself made things a bit easier), and slung them over his shoulders. He'd met Blueshift back during the Jotunhammer incident, and when she'd asked for his help (She found my commlink channel. How the deuce did she find my commlink channel!?), the kinetic controller had decided a few weeks abroad might have been just what the doctor ordered. Admittedly, it'd involve a lot of building and hammering and whatever, but it was good to be doing heroism that involved mechanics instead of punching things...

He stretched and followed Blueshift, trying to keep his eyes from following the (admittedly rather attractive) contours of her stealth suit. Why she was wearing it, he had no idea, but it was a tad distracting. Push shook his head, trying to jostle the thoughts loose and bury them as deep as he could. The inventor reminded him somewhat of Her, and he couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing yet; either way, he'd felt distinctly uncomfortable when he was around her during the trip. The fact that she'd looked at his hammer more than once as if she'd like to dissassemble it didn't help much either...

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Wisp slipped out of the vehicle in a puff of ivory and crimson smoke, stretching when she reappeared outside. It was odd flying to Haiti with several strangers but knowing she'd be helping people is why she'd signed up for the trip at Claremont. When they had landed she had all but kissed the ground, her dislike of flying being that strong.

Adjusting her T-shirt and carpenter's jeans she moved over to the back of their ride to start unloading tools and the coolers.

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Jay Xavier hadn't been expecting the email. Yes, it made sense that a speedster would be useful for a construction project -- last-minute problems cropped up in every endeavor, and speedsters were obviously well-equipped to help ensure that those last-minute problems yielded a minimum amount of delay -- but why him, in particular? He wasn't the only speedster around, and nowhere near the quickest; he hadn't been at the heroing game long enough to have become well-known even in Freedom City, let alone outside the continental US; and lastly, perhaps most importantly, his non-human appearance could easily cause problems, interaction-with-the-locals-wise.

Before responding, Jay consulted Wikipedia about Haitian culture. It seemed that Haitian Voodoo included a figure known as Agassou, "the product of a divine mating -- his mother was a princess and is said to have mated with a Leopard", whose role was to "guard... the old traditions of Dahomey". Jay wasn't sure how far he could trust Wikipedia's overly-concise page on Agassou, but if that page's data was halfway accurate, his being a cheetah might actually have been an influential, if not decisive, factor in the mind of whoever had decided to ask him to take part in this project... Jay decided not to research this 'Agassou' in any detail. There was just too damn much information about Voodoo, and even with his Timeshift, it would take too damn long for him to look it all over and distinguish genuinely valid information from the kind of garbage that showed up in poorly-researched mass-market books.

When Jay mentioned the email to his therapist, Ed Halstonne, naturally Ed thought he should go for it. The Agassou thing only strengthened Ed's opinion: "Look, Jay. Even if followers of the local religion don't think you're human, they're still going to treat you with respect, am I right?"


Haiti was hot. It didn't go well with Jay's -- no, make that Jubatus', he was "on the clock" -- permanent, built-in fur coat, but given how little he wore on top of the fur, the heat was tolerable. The humidity didn't help; his inhumanly thin limbs did, thanks to their comparatively high surface/volume ratio.

Jubatus wondered if the other supertypes would be more or less of a problem than the heat... Of his four companions, he recognized two from news reports: Push, a specialist in kinetics originally from out of Freedom, and Blueshift, a technocratic tin can with a flaky cloaking device. Neither of that pair had ever come anywhere near a newspaper's front page, as best Jube could tell. Apparently, whoever was running this particular show had made a point of not going for 'headliner' heroes; that seemed sensible, given the likelihood of a Big Name Hero's being followed by one of their personal rogue's gallery, or perhaps just an idiot looking to make a name for themselves by taking on Captain Worldwidefame.

Jubatus hadn't bothered introducing himself to any of his companions; he'd been a loner all his life, and the cheetah thing hadn't made him any more gregarious. As soon as the plane was parked at Port-au-Prince, the feline speedster zipped outside and started transferring tools and building materials from the warehouses they were at, to the sites where they'd be put to use, as the plan called for. By the time everyone else arrived on site, all those tools and materials would be deployed in an orderly fashion, so that the construction process would run more smoothly...

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He surveyed his surroundings with a sinking feeling, noting with slight surprise the general lack of trees. He'd heard stories told by some of the other janitors about how Haiti was a tropical island, covered in dense rainforest where vicious predators lurked. Last time I tell ANYONE I'm afraid of forests unasked he thought. He looked to the heroine Blueshift: "Where abouts should we start staking, Mz. Blueshift?" he rumbled. "What's the plan, in general terms?".

"Plan?" The visor she wore became suddenly less opaque. It was almost like she was looking through it at her surroundings rather than at the information it displayed for the first time. "I... Um... Oh god. Big place. Outdoors..." She visibly halted. Her own bag of stakes clanked as it fell from her hand. As smart, and as quick thinking as she was, it didn't seem like any of her mental gears were turning at the moment. Then she jostled back into motion, "Plan? Right. Things. Happening...Uh... Hold on." She pulled a small capsule from her belt, popped it into her mouth and swallowed it. Lunging for the door of the jeep, she reached inside, and lifted a large 20oz cup of coffee from the holder between the seats. Buy the time she'd emerged fully from the vehicle, she was already pouring the container straight down her throat.

"Ahh!" She sighed pleasantly as she tossed the cup back into the jeep. "Okay. Working. Ignore...other...things. Plan! Right!" The visor screen blipped on again and it seemed like she was analyzing the area. The distraction seemed to prove enough to keep her mind of the fact that they were outside in a wide wide open space with nothing to resemble a shelter for miles. In her mind, the faster they built something, the faster she could hide. "Need to wait for... Oh! Lumber's here! Okay. That case. Staking. First project. Small structure. Our house. Built by days end. Used for deployment for rest of project. 100ft from shore. 200ft from tree line. 40 by 40. Single room. Second miniature structure near tree line. Serves as outhouse. Get those built? Lay out rest. Questions?"

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Marceau thought for a moment, wondering vaguely if it wouldn't be a better idea to build the outhouse first. "Well, miss, may I assume this house will be peaked with a sloped roof? 'cause if so, no further questions.". He briskly rolled his beard into a short braid, sliding a series of metal rings around it to keep it in line, putting the remaining three three rings onto the central fingers of his left hand.

That done, he then took up the bag he'd placed on the ground and trudged off in the direction towards the treeline and away from the beach, waving politely to the newly arrived heroes just disembarking."A good day to you, friends! the starting structure will be 100ft away from the beach, 200 from the treeline, 40 feet by 40 feet according to Mz. Blueshift, with an outhouse placed more closely to the " he suppressed a shudder of fear "the forest."

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By the time the other heroes arrived at today's building site, Jubatus had transferred perhaps 60% of the necessary tools and materials there. It wasn't slacking off; rather, Jube knew that heat buildup was the primary limiting factor of a natural-born cheetah's hunting sprint, and in the Haitian heat, he preferred not to risk overexerting himself. The transportation he provided was still at least one order of magnitude swifter than would have been possible without a speedster, so as far as Jube was concerned, he had nothing to apologize for.

What the heck; might as well take a break, the feline thought to himself. Gotta talk to them sometime, right? And... hmm. Blueshift and one of the heroes he didn't recognize; the woman's demeanor suggested that she, herself, might be as flaky as her cloaking device. When he recognized her behavior anomalies, Jube's internal monologue included the psychological equivalent of an unconcerned shrug: So she's got some funky mental quirks. Ess-eff-dub'ya. Not like you're any kind of paragon of psychological health, right, Jay?

Okay, Blueshift and what's-their-face were done talking. Jube stepped in closer, saying, "Jubatus here.[to the woman] I think you're Blueshift, and [to the King of Suits, who Jube fails to recognize] who might you be, son?"

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Deeply relieved that he'd worn civvies(olive coveralls) instead of his unwieldy heroing garb, Marceau halted at the voice of the cheetah eh,good thing it isn't a talking cheetah on all fours, that would be just terrifying. Turning to Jubatus, he gave him a genial smile to disguise the unease he felt in his gut. "My name's Marceau Suvou, Freedonian volunteered worker. Who would you be? a nature spirit?". He did his best to sound more nonchalant and jaded than he actually felt, assuming the creature before him wouldn't want to have to reassure yet another uneasy human of his benevolence.

He gestured to the ocean behind them "By the way, do you know if its high or low tide now? it would be a great help to know."

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"Jabatus! Hi. Blueshift. Yes. J, can I call you J?" Though she was just initializing his name, the look she gave him implied she already knew that both of this names started with the same initial.

"My name's Marceau Suvou, Freedonian volunteered worker. Who would you be? a nature spirit?". He did his best to sound more nonchalant and jaded than he actually felt, assuming the creature before him wouldn't want to have to reassure yet another uneasy human of his benevolence.

"Ah, no. Not a spirit. More natural. Solid too." Blueshift smiled. Just because she knew didn't mean she had to tell. And one thing she did know was that Jubatus wasn't overly forthcoming.

He gestured to the ocean behind them "By the way, do you know if its high or low tide now? it would be a great help to know."

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Push walked up to the group, a rather sizeable pile of materials stacked on a platform floating in midair beside him. A bit of the leftovers from the airport after Spots had hauled the rest away (a rather impressive feat, by the kineticist's estimation). This time, he'd permitted a slight change to his costume in deference to the heat; a bandanna around his face instead of the scarf, along with a rather large and floppy hat he'd purchased as a souvenir. He still wore a longcoat, but a thinner canvas one instead of the leather London Fog he usually wore; this one was airier and lighter.

"Call me Push. Any more than that, you buy me dinner first."

A wry smile creased his features as his mind turned about Jubatus's statement vis-a-vis the tide, and he bit back a comment about cats and water. Surprisingly, he seemed rather unconcerned about the speedster's physical appearance, beyond extending a hand in greeting.

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[OOC note: It may be worth noting that the bloke what inquired about tides was the incognito King of Suits, not Jubatus. I'd expect that Marcel has his own reasons for inquiring about high tide, eh wot?

It may also be worth noting that Jube has an extremely unusual/distinctive voice; since his throat is 100% cheetah, he can't actually talk in the human manner. However, he can make a wide variety of sound effects, and if you string the right ones together in the right order, you can end up with a noise that's recognizable as intelligibly spoken words. Which is what Jube does, and why his voice is so weird.

"Jubatus! Hi. Blueshift. Yes. J, can I call you J?"

So I'm not the only hero in Freedom who makes a point of tracking other heroes' media presences. Groovy. "Sure, why not. Can I call you 'Aunt Bea'?" Let's see if she catches the Andy Griffith reference...

"My name's Marceau Suvou, Freedonian volunteered worker. Who would you be? a nature spirit?"

Since this little shindig was a hero-heavy affair, Jubatus strongly suspected that 'Marcel' wasn't the man's real name. But it was as good a label as any, and it was what the man wanted to be called, so Jube would go along with it. The cheetah was of two minds regarding how he should respond to 'Marcel' -- Do I give him a straight answer, or say "damn right I'm a nature spirit" and see how long it takes him to spot the gag? -- but Blueshift jumped in with her reply, thus spoiling any chance of a joke. Oh, well. Cheetah who hesitates is lost. "Yeah, what she said. Last year at this time, I was a boring, normal human, and if you really want to know more, Google is your friend." That was all he said to Marcel. My nose says the dude's afraid of me; best to minimize interactions with him than risk freaking him out in a big way.

""You're the fast one. Staking'll take you... .01228 seconds. Rounded of course. Want to just do it?"

The feline accepted the bag of surveyor's stakes with a shrug. "Fine by me," he said as he vanished in a blur, the afterimage fading from the others' eyes somewhat after his words reached their ears. He didn't reappear for a number of seconds, and when a sand-colored blur resolved itself to the fastest cat alive, there were no stakes left in the bag he carried. "Partially done," he said, handing the empty bag back to Blueshift. "You didn't hand me enough stakes for all the building sites we'll be working on, y' know. "

When Push approached the little group, Jubatus noted the absence of fear in the kinetics-user's scent. He also noted the presence of... well, he wasn't sure what he was smelling, but there was a non-trivial component of Push's scent which made Jube's hackles rise. Ignore it. Guy can't help it if his metabolism spits out nasty-smelling volatiles. Blueshift, well, who could tell what she smelled like inside her armor? "Hello, Push. Just taking a break now..." he said, his eyes scanning Push's cargo. "Looks like you've got most of the stuff I haven't moved yet. I'll just see what's left, if anything." And the fastest cat alive vanished in another blur.

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"Call me Push."

When Push approached the group Blueshift's visor filled with information again before he could even begin his one-liner.

"Any more than that, you buy me dinner first.

"Woops." Her visor quickly went blank. She blushed a little. "When..." her face reddened further and she seemed incapable of finishing the sentence.

Instead she turned to Jubatus, and leapt on his Aunt Bea comment in an attempt to change the subject. "Alright, Colonel Harvey," she smiled at Jubatus, "Just call me Blue." After Jubatus' latest words, Blueshift's expression softened somewhat. "Awww. Your voice. Shame. Must hurt talking like that. Hold on." She pulled a small round metal object from her belt. She turned the bezel on the rim a few times and adjusted a few very small switches with a thin metal tool. The object was attached to a small strap with a buckle on it. She began to hold it up to Jubatus' throat saying, "Here. Put this ar..." she halted, realizing she was about to put the proverbial bell on the cat. She quickly detached the device from the strap and shoved the strap back into a pocket on her belt. "Just hold this. Against your throat. Makes speaking easier. Vibration amplifier, etc."

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"Awww. Your voice. Shame. Must hurt talking like that. Hold on."

"Hurt? Naah, there's no pain at all" -- no physical pain, at least -- "so..." But the gadgeteer wasn't paying attention; she'd already extracted some sort of compact gizmo from her belt and was fiddling with it. What the -- oh, come on. Does she really think she can do anything for my voice after just a couple clock-seconds of hearing me talk!?

Apparently, Blueshift did think exactly that:

"Here. Put this ar..." she halted, realizing she was about to put the proverbial bell on the cat. She quickly detached the device from the strap and shoved the strap back into a pocket on her belt. "Just hold this. Against your throat. Makes speaking easier. Vibration amplifier, etc."

Jubatus tried to keep his annoyance from showing on his face. Okay, she's an idiot, but she means well... "Hrrm, thanks, Blue," he replied as he put the gizmo in a vest-pocket. "Like I said, it doesn't hurt, so there's no real need for a palliative. I'll definitely check out the gizmo when I've got the right tools and sensors to give it a proper once-over, though."

And then Marcel spoke up --

"My name's Marceau Suvou, Freedonian volunteered worker. Who would you be? a nature spirit?"

[OOC]

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The inventing of Blueshift and the arrival of the hammer-wielder called Push seemed to have constructed a sort of net around Jubatus, temporarily collecting the four into a space where several incongruous events were beginning at once. Deciding that it would be his best bet to guide the lot of them back to their original purpose, rather than allow the highly inappropriate sight of the volunteered heroes jawing on the beach, he cleared his throat and began at once in his accustomed reverberating baritone:"Ahem, sorry to interrupt but my my estimation, there are at least four or so things that need doing before we can hang about and introduce ourselves at leisure: first, the placement of the pegs, in which Mr. Jubatus(here he bowed slightly to Jubatus) clearly bests us all in speed and efficiency. Second, the assembly of the building materials that have just arrived into the base we'll be operating out of for our stay here, which I cannot stress enough the importance of. Third, the building of the outhouse, which should be a tremendously simple and easily accomplished task for any two of us. Fourth, the gathering of our personal stock and supplies to the base house and our divvying up of the floor-space for sleeping and personal space purposes. Fifth, I guess, can come introductions, offers of gadgetry and conversations while standing still".

He glanced from one to the other, quite unconscious of Wisp's presence."I apologize for the abruptness of this, but please remember our errand of mercy. I beseech you to set aside for a little whatever quarrels and disagreements you may have or be generating at this moment, and set your minds, hearts and muscles to the task at hand" He paused and scowled; "I'm sorry, let me put it this way: I think we should, at least until a bit later, get straight to work". He then took the bag of stakes from his shoulder and politely offered it to Jubatus.

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Wisp nodded at Marceau and headed for the spot the outhouse was to be constructed. "I'll get started on the pit, the structure itself can be started around me with minimal trouble." To punctuate this she knelt down and with one hand on the ground teleported ten feet away, a pile of dirt about three feet square set under her, partially obscured by the usual smoke presence. While not much faster than just using a shovel, teleporting a couple hundred pounds of dirt was much less back breaking.

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Blueshift nodded at the admonishment, she'd let herself get distracted. As Wisp started digging a hole, she moved toward the lumber brought over by Jubatus and Push. She pulled up the building plans on her visor, and did a few quick calculations in her head. "Okay. Calculating that the outhouse will need about 500lbs worth of this lumber. The House: 4000. Pounds, not pieces. Jubatus, Marceau, want to take the outhouse? Push, the other one?" As she talked, she pulled a small round device from her belt, and turned a few dials along the plate. Afterward, she attached it to the back of the gauntlet on her right arm. At once all of the iridescent blue tubes along her suit began to glow brighter. She reached down and lifted a few of the wooden timbers herself. Far more, in fact than a girl her size should have been able to. Her suit, it seemed, was enhancing her strength.

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Several new pieces of lumber had been appearing every second since Jubatus' most recent departure; had the speedster been watching it, rather than making it happen, the spectacle would have strongly reminded him of stop-motion animation. Having experimented with various load-weights at the start of his initial 'cargo run', Jube now knew that he got the greatest degree of throughput when he carried 300 pounds at a time. Which wasn't all that great, strictly speaking... other that it was nearly triple his body mass.

The fastest cat alive blurred to a stop just in time to head Blueshift say, "Jubatus, Marceau, want to take the outhouse?" "Take it where?" was Jube's instant reply.

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Marceau gestured to Wisp, setting off at a brisk pace towards her to belie his unease. He called back to Jubatus as he went, his deep, resonating voice incongruous coming from his narrow frame: "About there, far enough to keep the smell from being a nuisance and close enough to get to quickly for the none superfast or teleporters here. I'd suggest a few air-holes placed under the eaves of the roof, to allow quicker air displacement to keep the smell from being too much of an issue." He surreptitiously hoisted a stack of lumber over his shoulder, careful to keep the weight centered on his arm.

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"Take it where?" Jubatus said, referring to the outhouse-to-be.

"About there, far enough to keep the smell from being a nuisance and close enough to get to quickly for the none superfast or teleporters here. I'd suggest a few air-holes placed under the eaves of the roof, to allow quicker air displacement to keep the smell from being too much of an issue."

"Sounds like a plan," the speedster replied. Then he got a distant look in his eyes: "Hrrr... see what I can do about exploiting natural airflow to help keep the stench down..."

The fastest cat alive blurred into action! And a short time later (as measured by any normal clock), the desired outhouse was 'open for business'. It had a number of wide, shallow slots along the bottom edge of its north wall (to take advantage of Haiti's prevailing winds, whose source direction varied from northwest to northeast over the course of a year), and a sort of narrow tube leading directly up from the cesspit beneath to 12 feet above the ground. The slots, and 'chimney'-top opening, were all lined with mosquito netting, the better to prevent local wildlife from poking around inside. Jube had even drawn a crude blueprint of the outhouse on the wall opposite its door; this diagram was rather rough, but nevertheless managed to communicate its information effectively.

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A few minutes after Jubatus had finished the actual structure, Wisp had finished teleporting away the dirt for the upcoming cesspit. Her clothes had a light dusting of dirt on them, especially around the knees where she had knelt to maintain contact with the dirt she would be moving. "Shovels, bah," she said to Jubatus when they'd finished the outhouse, wiping sweat from her brow. "On the bright side, I think that is a new personal best. I've never done so much teleporting in such a short time."

To punctuate her previous statement, her stomach rumbled loudly, indicating she had burned plenty of calories on the task and would require some intake soon. Looking down at her stomach she blushed slightly and muttered, "Shut up, I'll feed you later."

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It took a few trips, but fortunately Push's kinetic telekinesis was well up to the task of shifting that much lumber. He'd stayed relatively quiet during the procedure; the kineticist honestly didn't mind doing mindless work, it was a good distraction from reality sometimes. Eventually, he placed the last pile of lumber onto the pileup and turned, grinning.

"Alrighty then. If folks are hungry, then I think it's time that I started putting together some noms. Only be a bit, and I'll have lunch cooked up."

He trundled over to the jeep, taking down a rather sizeable aluminum pot, and levitating a ton of supplies for...chili?

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Jubatus did not build any more outhouses by himself; while he was certainly quick enough for such feats, he now knew that his forepaws -- hands -- just didn't have the fine control needed to do it right. So instead, he merely distributed lumber and supplies out to the various building-sites, thus ensuring that the necessary materials would be conveniently on hand for whoever did the actual construction.

"Alrighty then. If folks are hungry, then I think it's time that I started putting together some noms. Only be a bit, and I'll have lunch cooked up."

Food was an excellent idea! Best to forestall one possible glitch in the program before it could happen, however: "Sounds like a plan to me, Push. If you're worried about dietary preferences, I'm an obligate carnivore -- no veggies for me, thanks." Jube wasn't going to complain if his chili contained small amounts of plant matter; it wasn't poisonous to him or anything like that. But there was a very definite upper limit to how much of the stuff his body could tolerate, and if he exceeded that limit, things got messy, starting with severe diarrhea.

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"I agree!" Blueshift chimed in. "Food sounds great. Let me know if you need any of the jeeps converted into microwaves or anything." She smiled and waved as Push began unpacking his supplies. She turned to Jubatus, "Here, J, look at this." She held out a small device which pulled apart into something vaguely resembling a parchment scroll. Except in this case, the parchment was actually thin, flexible glass. A hologram extended upward from the surface. A floating block of text read, "HABITAT FOR META-HUMANITY COMMAND CENTER". The hologram detailed the dimensions, materials, and other features of the house the would be building next.

Blueshift looked between Wisp and Jubatus, "Plans. Should simplify construction. Aiming for completion by dinner. Judging by previous results," she gestured to the outhouse, "Shouldn't be a problem."


A Few Hours Later...

The Command Center, and the outhouse were both standing. The four heroes were all sitting by a fire near the Command Center talking over bowls of Push's famous chili. As it turned out, the time that it took Push to cook the extra meat (per Jubatus' requests), coincided perfectly with the end of their construction on the Command Center.


Nearby...

"Hurr, it seems someone has moved in on our territory." A sinister voice with a low throaty snarl spoke quietly from the murky cover of the rain forest near the beach. "The Baron will not take kindly to such intrusions. Good that I discovered them now, and not just before the ceremony. HurRrr" The figure prowled away, into the jungle. "He must be told...HrrrRurr."

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Marceau had stared in amazement as Wisp and Jubatus dug and built an outhouse in a matter of minutes. Setting himself to the task of putting together the Command Center, he glanced every now and then to them, in evident awe. Once the Center was built, and the assembled workers were gathered around the fire, he decided to try and strike up a conversation Wisp, seeing as Jubatus seemed a bit touchy about questions regarding his condition, and he'd often wondered...

"S'cuse me, Mz. Wisp, Marceau Suvou, I've often wondered how teleportation works. Is it bending space or something? most reports of it I've read are oddly vague." He took a hefty bite of chili, adding after swallowing noiselessly "By the way, thanks for digging that pit. It would have taken ages to dig a respectable latrine hole in the sand, our being past the tide-line or no."

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