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Kilts & Kooks [IC]


Dr Archeville

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June 27th, 2011 (Monday)

Three days after The Doktor is In(sane!) (and before he upgrades himself w/ nanotech)

Situated on the seaside bluffs overlooking Great Bay in Port Regal, Providence Asylum -- once the private estate of the wealthy Phillips family -- has been treating the mentally ill since 1908. Some years ago, it also began treating mentally ill metahumans, including Blackbird, Conundrum, both Fear Masters, Luna Moth, the Maestro, Megalodon, Toy Boy, and the Warden. Now it housed a new resident, one who had been regarded as a respected hero working to redeem his family's name through both charitable donations to numerous schools and hospitals (including Providence itself) and work as a science-hero: Doktor Viktor Archeville.

That morning, as John Fraser walked down the streets of Freedom, a news items smeared across newspapers and television screens caught his eye, due both to the ubiquity of it and his knowledge of the people involved. ArcheTech, the multinational chain of research laboratories founded by fellow (former) Knight of Freedom Doktor Archeville, had been ceded (possibly temporarily, possibly permanently) to one of his employees, the superheroine Miss Americana. Hope were that under her leadership, the massive downward turn it had taken following the temporary overthrow of the company & all its resources by some mad fish-man would be reversed, first off by improving the response time of their compensation packages to all those injured or who had lost loved ones in the attacks. There was still no word from Archeville himself, as he was still on his 'sabbatical.'

Fraser knew the truth, and exactly where Archeville was. It was time to pay him a visit.

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That evening, just after the sun began to set and dusk loomed over the bay, the lights went out in the wing of the hospital which the Doktor was housed in. After only 56 seconds, the back-up generator had kicked in. Unfortunately, that was too late to do anything about the unauthorised entry.

In the hallway, there came the sound of rushing wind, and billowing fabric for a very brief moment, and the sound of a trolley rattling along in the opposite direction.

And when the lights came up, a tall man in black stood in the corner of the room, cape spread wide, entire body armoured with thick plates which were covered in a fine dusting of mud and sand. The man's cape had its hood pushed back at, leaving an aged face to glare freely at the Doktor, grey eyes visible through the pale red lenses of his domino mask, which he hadn't bothered to remove. "Viktor. Let's talk."

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Archevile, who'd been sitting at a desk and writing a list of all the wrongs he'd done (so he'd be sure he caught everything he needed to atone for and everyone he needed to atone to), actually fell out of his chair, so startled was he by Arrohawk's sudden appearance.

Red eyes darkness blackness swallow me up doom doom DOOM come for me looming perching stalking staring shadows red eyes glowing like the pits of Hell not going to get to repent

His voice caught as he tried to cry out.

Gonna get me gonna carry me of gonna... gonna... wait- the voice... eyes adjusting now, can better see his outline... details... I know this man.

Calming, he slowed, then stopped his backwards scramble, and went loose, laying untensed on the thinly carpeted floor. "Hello, Arrowhawk," he said, voice fairly flat and weak. "I had wondered if any of the Knights were going to... visit."

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Arrowhawk let out a sad smirk at the Doktor falling from his seat, but his face almost immediately became grave once again. "I'm not here in my capacity as one of the former Knights, Doktor," he growled.

With surprising speed for a man of his size, age, and disability, he'd crossed the room and hurled the table up and behind him, rolling a couple of times before thudding with the opposite wall. "I want answers. Finally. After so damn long. After months chasing shadows in Europe."

He crouched down until he was near nose-to-nose with the fallen hero. "Vivian Krieger. What happened to her? What. Did. You. Do?"

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Vivian Krieger? Who? The... does he mean Vivian the librarian? Did.. was she... as she a superhero my Other fought?

"I do not n-know!" he squeaked, trembling more under the dark-clad figure, "I do n-not know who that is! There is m-much still blocked that I have yet to recover... and Phantom and Scarab wiped all m-memories of any superhero secret identities I had known... so if she was a heroine, I do not know who she is! But... but if she was one... and she came across... Arrowhawk, I am sorry," he said, eyes pleading slightly more than his voice was managing to, but still remaining eerily flat, "I am so, so sorry. She m-must have m-meant something to you, for you to come here like this..."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Arrowhawk growled, and slapped his forehead with his palm. "Scarab. Should have known."

He stood up and paced across the room. "Valkyrie. I want to know how she died. I want to know why she died." He paced in silence for a couple of minutes. Then, abruptly, he pushed off the wall with his fist, leaving a small dent as he railed to face the Doktor again.

"Dammit, Viktor, what the hell? We trusted you. We respected you. Why? I don't give respect lightly. You know that full well, and then you go and pull..." He gesticulated wildly, unable to form words. "GAH!" He settled for roaring.

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"But it was not," he began, voice cracking, but suddenly stopped himself. "No... no, it was me. The... the thing that took over me, the controlled me, was born from my angers and fears, all my foul and dark thoughts. It fed on them, amplifying them so it could continue gorging, a vicious, maddening cycle initiated by some alien cancer from beyond space and before time. But it was my thoughts that fed it, and my fears and hubris that kept me from telling anyone, from seeking help before it was far too late."

I have to tell him the rest, I have to.

"And Valkyrie died," his voice cracked again, "because of her supernatural origins. Because the thing inside my head knew that heroes like her, who knew of magic and other arcane matters, would be the ones best able to combat it and drive it off. She put up one hell of a fight though, and sacrificed herself to stop it. To stop... me."

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  • 4 weeks later...

"Yeah, I know all about hubris," growled the great bird of prey. "And I suppose, in a way, that means that even though everything in me wants to crush your sternum, I know I don't need to." Arrowhawk laughed bitterly. "You're never going to sleep well again, are you? You'll see their faces. For the rest of your life."

He towered over the prostrate scientist, fury in his eyes. "Will that... thing... come back?"

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Archeville shook his head, "even with my mental faculties diminished... even if I did not still retain my eidetic memory... I will never forget."

Never forget... never forget... never forget....

At Arrowhawk's second question, the Doktor stopped shaking as much, perhaps because giving one morsel of good news gave him some resolve. "No. Well... not through me. Phantom and Scarab both gave m-me a through scan -- now that they knew exactly what to look for -- and gave m-me a clean bill of health. Ah, metaphysically speaking. That... that thing will not be manifesting from me again; if it survived the explosion-" His voice caught as he remembered the look on Mona's face before she sacrificed herself to stop the rampaging physical manifestation. "I... If it survived that, it was cast into the Terminus. Hopefully it will not merge with anything else floating out there..."

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  • 4 weeks later...

Arrowhawk taciturnly glowered down at the Doktor. His eyes didn't betray the hurt in them, or the dismay at what had happened to his friend. "Hrm."

He turned away and stared at the wall. For a brief moment, he shut his eyes tightly and grimaced. Then, even knowing the Doktor couldn't see his face, he dismissed the expression from his face with a curt shake of his head. Growling a little under his breath, he reached up both hands and replaced his hood, deftly flicking the catches to clip it to the tiny metal earpieces he wore to prevent it being pulled over his eyes. But despite that, he couldn't shake off the bone deep weariness from his words.

"What are you going to do now?"

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