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Freedom College, Freedom City, USA
Friday, January 13th, 2012

The last class of the day had let out, at least as far as Carson was concerned. And he was glad; the first week back after winter break was always hard. The students never wanted to focus. Luckily, he'd managed to get them involved in a few simple exercises and focus that nervous energy into something other than spitballs and love notes.

"Just another day in the office..."

"Mister Keefe, sir?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, uh...Jessica, wasn't it? What can I help you with?"

"Well, I just wanted to give you this book. It's got some short skits I'd like to try doing in class this semester."

"Hm. I'll take a look and see what I can work in. Let me see....That's odd. I've never heard of this author before."

"You wouldn't have, not here."

"What? Why...oh, my head."

The contact chemical that coated the paperback took hold, and Carson started to bonelessly collapse. "Jessica" calmly caught him in deceptively small arms, before pulling out an odd-looking metal and plastic disc that she slapped on the middle of the teacher's chest, before gently laying him on the ground and gathering his papers up. The disc started to beep faster and faster, but she still had enough time to extract his keys.

"I'll make sure these get put away, Sir. It's the least I can do..."

And with a flash of light and a sound like tearing silk, Carson Finbar Keefe was gone from Earth Prime.

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"Excuse me, Ms. Parker! Uh, hello! Excuse me?" Jessica Parker walked on for several more steps before it clicked that someone was talking to her. Being not even twenty years old and in charge of something like the Lab could be a head trip, at times. She turned to see a young man in wrap-around glasses and a heavy jacket and gloves, waving to get her attention. He looked like a reporter, a deduction the tape recorder in his hand reinforced. She was leaving the glass-and-steel edifice of the Lab itself for some food, but she altered her path toward him.

"Yes, can I help you?" This man was really bundled up, in overlapping layers of coat and sweater and hat and scarf. She could barely see any exposed flesh. It was cold outside, but it wasn't that cold, surely? Maybe he was just used to a warmer climate.

"Ms. Parker, I was just hoping you could comment on something one of your colleagues said." He held out the recorder and the top popped open to reveal a tiny screen; apparently it was some kind of flip-top, hand-held device. It was very interesting, and Jessica took note of the design as she stepped closer for a better view.

"I really can't comment on something that one of my Lab-mates said, but I'm happy to give you my own opinion on a subject. What did you have... in... miiii..." The young woman's eyes locked on the screen and couldn't look away. She trailed off as the psychedelic assault overwhelmed her mind; in a few moments she went weak at the knees and began to fall. The 'reporter' rushed to grab her around the waist and an errant arm knocked his sunglasses off. He let them fall as he glanced down at the device, flipped it over, and pulled a switch on the underside. There was a crackling, a rainbow spread out to cover them, and then they were gone with a bang of inrushing air, leaving just the sunglasses behind.

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Arrowhawk had just finished donning his costume and making his way to a nearby rooftop when darkness began to fall over the city. Red eyes scanned from under his hood at the city around him, searching for crime to fight. Both hands worked to assemble his bow, snapping it together and stringing it without his brain giving them conscious direction to do so.

Which is how he was aware enough to hear the soft footsteps behind him. He pivoted to see a man in an all-black suit, hat pulled low over his eyes, black leather gloves on his hands. "You want something?" growled Arrowhawk, stalking towards the man.

Instantly, the man swung a fist to hit him, but the huge archer caught the fist in his bare hand... and instantly began to feel weak from the potent contact poison. "Clever," he hissed as his legs turned to jelly. "Very clever."

And he blacked out.

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"Hot foot, coming through!" a raucous voice shouted from overhead as a figure in royal blue burst from the third storey window of the burning building, head ducked into the high collar of his greatcoat and arms wrapped around the young woman he'd just rescued from the inferno. Jack of all Blades tucked himself around his charge and into a somersault, landing acrobatically on the street far below with as much grace as the distance and a lung full of smokey air would allow.

Nearby, a similarly attired figure in crimson allowed the glimmering blue tunnel of bioelectric energy that had been holding the path outside open to drop, the gutted apartment collapsing with a staggering crunch. "Cut that a little close, don't you think?" Jill O'Cure drawled to her brother, resting both hands on her knees as she took several long breaths.

Straightening to his feet, lifting his charge into the air with him, the elder sibling grinned through a hacking cough and stepped over to Jill. "Ha, you'd think I had a flair for the dramatic or something," he replied irreverently before tilting his head down to inspect the sooty civilian. "You better take a look at her, she was already unconscious when I found h-" The swashbuckler's explanation was cut off as the young woman's eyes abruptly opened and she exhaled, releasing a cloud of pale yellow dust directly into the faces of her would-be rescuers.

"Aw, nertz..." Jack noted, sounding rather put out before collapsing face first into the pavement, the obvious uninjured woman gymnastically rolling out of his grip to stand on her own feet.

Coughing violently, Jill staggered back a few steps but remained upright while her hand was surrounded by dappled light. "Guh. Oh, you did not just- gghtz!" Even as her metamagi healing abilities negated the poison's potency, their attacked used the distraction to slam a concealed shock baton into the medic's exposed stomach. The younger sister fell unconscious atop her brother with a groan.

Taking a moment to recover herself, the faux-victim regarded the heroes with a mixed look, rubbing sweat and soot from her face with the back of one hand. Withdrawing a pair of dish-sized disks from wherever she'd been hiding her weapon, she affixed them to the sibling's backs one after another. She had just enough time to cover her eyes to shield them from the bright flash that followed, leaving her standing alone in the light of the fire.

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When they awoke, the varied heroes of Freedom City found themselves in silent, nondescript rooms. It was hard to tell where they were; the walls were apparently smooth concrete, and the furnishings were rather spartan. That said, it was clearly well-maintained and well-lit. The hero siblings were in a small double-room suite with a shared bathroom, while the rest where in smaller, one-person accomidations.

Exploration revealed empty closets, bathrooms with basic toiletries and a few towels and such...

And what looked like slightly sleeker, more robust "iPads" sitting on small end tables positioned next to the only chair (well, two chairs, for Jack and Jill) in the room. As soon as it was picked up, the screen would light up, and text appeared. It seemed their captors had left them notes!

Hello.

Please take any time necessary to clean yourselves up as desired. Nothing we type right now will soothe your fear of surveillance, so instead we'll just say that even if we were watching, we'll make sure as few people as possible see the feeds.

Still, we would suggest you change into your "work clothes" as soon as possible, if you haven't already.

Then, just hit the "map" link below, and you'll be guided to the meeting room where everything will be explained.

Yes, you could try busting your way out. But people would get hurt, no matter how hard everyone tried to avoid it. And since we're rather far underwater, you wouldn't have much of a place to escape to, anyways.

Feel free to take some time to tend to your needs beforehand, though. The meeting promises to be long.

-Your Hosts

P.S. For what it's worth, we're sorry it came to this, but we had no more time. No one has much time now.

Those who were costumed when they were knocked out had been left as such, while those in civilian clothes had been left alone. There was no specified meeting time on the tablets, but it was likely it was "as soon as you could, please and thank you".

Wherever "here" was and whoever "Your Hosts" were, anyways...

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Jack regained consciousness to the sound of a familiar voice reeling off a list of increasingly creative obscenities in a variety of languages. Holding his head in one hand and rolling onto his feet with a groan, the fencer looked about his surroundings as he pieced together the preceding events. "Oy, hermanita, in here," he called loudly, wincing slightly at the volume of his own voice.

His sister appeared in the doorway leading to their rooms' shared accommodations with a scowl framed by one hand folding a sleek, touch-screen tablet and the other raised in indignation. "Have you seen this?" she demanded.

Blinking at the indicated device, Jack paused for a moment, blinked once then began, "Well, I mean, I kinda though they were just oversized smartphones at first, but--"

"Not that, the message," Jill interrupted tersely, tossing the tablet at her brother's head with a considerable amount of force. Even in his groggy state, the agile swordsman was able to snag the electronic device out of the air, bringing it closer then further from his eyes as he struggled to focus on the text.

"...huh." Looking up he shared a silent glance with his sibling, then looked around for the implied surveillance equipment. Reaching a consensus without saying a word, he tossed the pad onto his cot and raised his voice. "You idiotas get that kidnapping us doesn't make me want to avoid hurting you, right? Hurting people is what I do!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his arms as he moved about the rooms, greatcoat flapping at his feet as he generally made a spectacle of himself. "My fist is an artist and your faces are its ridiculously ugly canvasses! And another thing!"

While Jack was suitably distracting, Jill took the opportunity to open the unlocked door leading out into the larger facility, poking her head out to look around. Over her shoulder, her brother's continuing tirade poured into the hallway. "Where's the chocolate mint?! That's just Hospitality Services 101! It's the principle of the thing! I demand my chocolate mint!"

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Arrowhawk rose groggily to his feet, cursing as he went. Instantly, he reached out and grabbed for his weapons. What kidnapper leaves you your weaponry? He took stock of his surroundings swiftly, picking up the PDA device lying on the table. He frowned at the message there.

"Just... what?" This was a very odd situation. Not even bothering to avail himself of the provided facilities he burst out into the hallway like an enraged elephant, the door slamming against the wall with a thud as he propelled himself out into the hall.

To see a woman he'd never met before. "Alright, where the hell are w-" He paused when he heard a familiar voice. "Oh no. Oh no. Not him."

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Jessica woke up with a stabbing headache behind her eyes. She held her skull until it lessened, and allowed her abhuman brain to roam free. She absorbed the contents of the nearby tablet and let the information roll around in her head. This was hardly how she was expecting a kidnapping from a supervillain to go. She was surprised to wake up not tied to something, let alone to wake up in a fairly-comfortable bed.

The headache receded and Jessica sat up, then swung her legs off the bed and stood. She touched her bracelet and in a moment was clad in her armor once again. She walked out into the hallway and immediately noticed Jill O'Cure and a large man in a black and white outfit holding a big bow. She could hear someone in another room haranguing the service. She nodded to Jill and her brain pegged the bowman as Arrowhawk. Then I'll put money that the mouth is Jack of All Blades. "Well," she said, "I'm not going to turn down a rescue, but I don't think it's really needed in this situation." She glanced around as her mind probed the computer systems all around them. "These guys get an A+ for the kidnapping, but their follow-up is looking at a solid D grade."

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Carson drifted awake out of a very strange set of dreams. About 30 seconds after he was awake, he was instinctively dashing for the bathroom, likely saved only by his body's echolocation abilities (which made the commode stand out more thoroughly). He spent a couple minutes in their cursing whatever it was they had slipped him, before spending another several minutes cleaning up. He didn't have time for a shower, but he managed to feel halfway presentable again.

It was only then that the full reality of the situation hit him, and he was instantly clad in his armor, spear in hand, as he strode back into the main part of the room. He frowned as he noticed the tablet for the first time. He read the message, his mouth turning into a thin line as he glanced around the room, as if trying to see the cameras.

Then he heard Jack complaining very, very loudly. He rolled his eyes as he tossed the tablet on the ground and walked to the door. He was actually a bit shocked when he had to manually open it...

"The fact that we're not hanging in deathtraps right now makes me think this is not an ordinary supervillian kidnapping plot."

Gabriel's voice seemed soft, but no one could mistake hearing it. The man himself stepped into the hallway, calmly taking stock of the situation. He nodded to Jill and Ironclad.

"Ladies, good to see you both in good health, all things considered."

He turned to Arrowhawk, assessing the other man for a moment before stepping forward and offering his hand.

"Call me Gabriel. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, Mr...."

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Arrowhawk glanced down at the hand and then continued surveying up and down the corridor. "Arrowhawk." He didn't much care about the fact there were several of them being kidnapped beyond the logistical flexibility it would give them in finding whoever had kidnapped them. "And you're right. It's not a villainous kidnapping, I think they probably want to broker some kind of deal, else they wouldn't have given us a hotel room and set up a meeting."

He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "Most supervillains aren't stupid enough to think kidnap is the best way to enlist a man's aid, so you're right. Definitely not that."

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"Y'know, he gets that reaction a lot?" Jill mused glibly in response to Arrowhawk's reaction to the sound of her brother's still ranting voice as she stepped fully out into the hallway as additional faces appeared. The man in black's sudden, practically explosive entrance had given her a bit of a start, but the others she recognized, at least. "Well hey! How's it hanging Greenjeans, Labour Day? We've practically got a pencil crayon pack of masked marvels here."

"...get that underwater resorts didn't really pan out like people were hoping," her brother's voice continued to shout from behind her, getting even louder as he approached the door, "but this is no way to encourage repeat business! Let's talk long-term market strategy, here!" The royal blue clad swordsman stepped purposefully into the hallway with one finger raised in the air to emphasize his point, then stopped short to quickly take stock of the assembled group. Eyes falling across the eldest present, a grin spread across his face. "'Hawky! Long time no see, my disproportionately violent chum!" Jack spread his arms wide. "Hugs?"

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Ironclad raised an eyebrow at Jill's new term for her. "Saving Goldenrod for a special occasion, I take it," she replied, then turned to face the group. "Gabriel, nice to see you here. If we're working off the idea that these aren't villains -- or at least are incompetent villains -- should we take the offer at face value? Go to the conference room and see what they want from us?" She glanced around at the hallway and ducked back inside her room, paying particular attention to the structural elements. "Unless there's reinforcing that I can't see," she added, "I don't think this place can hold us in if we make an honest attempt to escape."

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"As I recall," growled Arrowhawk in a low voice. "Last time you saw me, I was the only one reticent to use artillery-scale violence. Although if you really want that hug, I can give a brief demonstration."

But then he turned to Ironclad and shook his head. "If we blow our way out, we don't find out who kidnapped us. Which means they don't get stopped from... whatever they're doing. And also, like the message said, we're underwater. Not exactly my favourite place to be." He paused and mused for a second. "Unless, of course, as they left us nice accomodation and all our weapons..." The archer nodded at his bow, Ironclad's armour and Gabriel's spear. "There's the very outside chance they're so incredibly powerful we're just an amusement to them. In any case, there's no net loss in meeting them."

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"I could have gone with 'Stringbean'," Jill drawled to Ironclad, the other girl noticeably tall and thin even in her technological armor, "but I was worried the colour part of that would have been too subtle."

At Arrowhawk's terse rejoinder, Jack's broad grin shifted to a much more contained smirk as he lowered his arms and dropped most of his affected obnoxiousness. "Well shucks, it's gonna be tough to cartoonishly exaggerate your personality if you insist on using facts and reasonable behaviour," he laughed merrily before lowering his voice to add, "Besides, we've obviously been underestimated here and I hate to disappoint." True, the tone of the message left for them had pushed his buttons enough to warrant a kneejerk response, but the swashbuckler was more than happy to play the fool right up until the point when he could use that perception to his advantage.

As talk turned back to deciding a course of action, Jill piped up, "I can make us a bubble to carry us up to the surface, if we're really underwater." She didn't really have any reason to doubt that they were, but it seemed a little ridiculous all the same.

Her brother shook his head. "Nah, Mr. Multifaceted has a point. Worst case scenario, meeting face-to-face gets us close enough to make a fight of it. Don't love dancing to their tune much, but for now it's all that's on the radio."

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"Without a map, we don't know how far we'd have to go to get to a route out, or where we'd have to go. Too many variables I don't like to consider if we try just busting our way out. Besides, my curiosity's piqued. Hopefully they can't just swat us like flies."

The man in white rolled his shoulders a bit, stepping back into his room for a moment before emerging with the tablet. His spear was nowhere to be seen, not even in the room. He tapped at the not-iPad, bringing up the map. He started walking down the hall, before glancing back at the others.

"Might as well spring the trap, hm?"

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Travelling down the halls

As the motley crew traveled down the bare, brightly-lit hallways, they occasionally went past sealed metal doors. Where they went to, it was hard to say; for all they knew, each held a small legion of armed guards. The doors were thick and, as Gabriel discovered, very sound-proof. Still, the doors along their path were open, or at least unlocked (presumably some left closed for emergency situations).

Finally, they arrived at their current destination after about 5 minutes of brisk walking (as not everyone could fly to the end in the blink of an eye, and splitting up would likely end badly).

It was a rather comfortable conference room. Twenty chairs around a long oval of a table. A small folding table against one wall, with a few basic snacks and drinks, obviously fresh. And a paper note taped to the table (though it was printed, not hand-written):

Thank you all for coming.

We'll be in there soon. Feel free to take some refreshments.

Only one person will be coming in to start with. Please try not to jump right to violence. He's had a bit of a week already.

You can't miss him.

Your Hosts

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Ironclad walked into the room cautiously, sensors active and scanning. She had insisted on being the first in, reasoning that her thick armor and sensing equipment made her best suited to weather any surprise attack, but she was disappointed. The room seemed as empty as the rest of the base had been, so she gestured the rest of the heroes in and wandered over to read the note. "This is getting more than faintly ridiculous," she pointed out. "The notes, the absence of anyone, the nice tone of everything. It's creeping me out." Her eyes stared upwards as she tried to put it all together into a sensible picture. The disparate pieces didn't match any villain she could think of, but maybe... "I don't suppose," she offered, "that anyone here has recently befriended a hero with an aquatic theme and a paranoid streak? And recommended the rest of us in glowing terms?"

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"Nah, underwater themes are lame," Jack drawled dismissively as he pulled out one of the conference table's chairs and took a seat. "We're all about plant and lizard themes these days. That's what's in right now." With his hands behind his head and hit feet outstretched, he looked every bit the lazy layabout, but those of more martial inclination would notice that his legs were never obstructed by the table itself, allowing him to rise immediately if the need arose. "For confirmed city folks, we've gotten awfully foresty of late."

"Who's 'we' kemosabe? I'm dating a high-tech heroine," Jill interjected, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table, legs swinging below her as she looked about the room attentively.

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"No water-themed friends here, really. Maybe a couple in passing, but not enough for a fan club like this. I guess maybe Gaian Knight could pull this off, but it's not his style at all. Plus, his castle's floating in the air in another dimension."

The last sentence was said without a trace of sarcasm or irony. Then again, considering the strange array of abilities present, a floating extra-dimensional castle didn't seem impossible.

Gabriel himself made a slow circuit of the room, tracing his fingers across the table for a few moments. He couldn't get a feel for the people who ran this place; with no decorations, no personalization, it might as well be a cheap motel. He still had no idea what was really going on. And that incessant tapping wasn't helping things.

He froze as that last thought flickered through his mind. In the twinkling of an eye, his hands went from "empty" to "spear pointed at the door".

"That door's not soundproof, and someone's coming. Making a lot of noise. Mechanical, sounds like, and some sort of tapping. Not moving very fast."

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Suddenly, a voice that seemed both familiar and not to everyone in the room filled their ears; it was like the speaker was in the room with them.

"Not like I'm trying to hide that I'm coming in, Gabriel. If all of you would kindly give me a minute, I can try to explain most everything."

The voice went silent. If any of them tried the door, it was locked. It was not quite two minutes later when they could hear the deep, metallic sound of the tumblers disengaging, and then the pressure door swung open to reveal...

Gabriel. Or rather, some poor, mangled mirror image. While he still wore the shining armor, he also had some sort of mechanical exoskeleton holding him up. In places, the armor seemed to form around the exoskeleton. He held the same spear as his mirror image, but used it to support his stooped posture. He all but shuffled into the room, wincing every now and then. Jill's medical training gave her extra insight; it was clear he was fresh from a large number of debilitating injuries, and by all rights shouldn't be standing there right now.

The injured hero look-alike gave a small smile as he met each of their gazes.

"My name is Gabriel, and we need your help to save our world, and likely many worlds beyond."

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Arrowhawk raised an eyebrow at the vision before him. This was evidently some form of parallel dimension where things were much, much worse. Judging by the state of this universe's equivalent of Gabriel, much worse.

But empathy was not overly familiar with the Scotsman, so instead he settled for leaning back against the wall and drawling, "Now, bear in mind this is me it's coming from, but if you need our help, any pressing reason your first resort wasn't to just ask us to help?"

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At Gabriel's sudden reaction, Ironclad switched her sensors over to SONAR and turned to watch the door. She could follow the movement of the figure beyond by his tap-tap-tapping, but when he walked through... well, if he had been planning a sneak attack it would have been the perfect time to launch one. Her mind whirled and tried to find an explanation, and it settled on one just as he announced it. A different world would account for a lot of changes, of course, but there should be some similarities. That Gabriel existed at all and in some heroic capacity was heartening, but his apparent injury was not a good sign. She didn't have much to add to the conversation at the moment, though, so she moved towards the doorway and stood there, arms folded, watching the new Gabriel while her sensors continued to listen carefully.

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Jack gave the second Gabriel a long, flat look, the fencer's masked head tilting slightly to one side as he considered the implications. "Well, it could be worse," he noted finally. "At least it's not another swords-and-sorcery world, amirite?"

Meanwhile, his sister had managed to conduct a cursory examination of their apparent host just by noting where the exoskeleton was supporting him, the way he winced when weight was placed on this place or that, which movements were especially stiff and awkward. "So, obvious diagnosis of the day, but you should really not be standing up, Tin Man," she advised, brow furrowing with professional concern despite her sardonic attitude.

"Maybe this is just the world where Gabe's trying to bank sympathy points with the ski bunnies at the lodge," the elder sibling suggested airily, still reclining in his seat. Where Jill's expression betrayed concern, a closer glance at Jack's eyes revealed a cold, appraising look. "Or the world where knockout gas has replaced handshakes are the friendly greeting of choice. Maybe it's a world just like our own save for a terrible chocolate mint shortage."

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"And I know it's not a world where the English are in charge; I've been there, and this isn't it. Which has to be some sort of improvement, right?"

The grin Gabriel flashes is clearly false, though his hunched duplicate returns a faint version of it.

"As for the other options, you know I could easily get a date with any ski bunny I fancied, without an ounce of sympathy points. I just have the self-confidence to apply my manly charms with precision."

Without letting his eyes leave his double, he turned his head a bit and spoke toward the hallway.

"Do come in, whoever it is. I can hear you breathing and wringing your hands from in here."

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GM Post

Ironclad's SONAR picked up the woman in the hall well before she stepped into the room. She moved slowly, gracefully into the room, barely making a sound, for all that she was practically draped in cloth. At first it seemed to be just a fashion statement, albeit an odd one that gave her a faintly Arabic air. But when she reached her hands to steady the wounded Gabriel as he guided himself to a chair, the reasoning became clear. The flesh of her hands was pink and almost "shiny"; it was the sure sign of a still-healing burn, and the signs were on both hands, and disappeared up her arms. As she guided the battered hero into a chair, she leaned over and whispered into his ear. He frowned, sighed, and nodded, his lips twitching for a moment. The woman stood and moved from the room, nodding at the others in acknowledgement.

Battered!Gabriel waited until she was well on her way down the hall before giving a small chuckle that died off into a wince.

"For what it's worth, Jill, my personal physician thinks I should still be in traction receiving daily regeneration therapy. I'll probably eventually be able to walk again, run, and so forth. All normal function restored to about 85%. Considering 90% of the bones in my body were, at minimum, fractured, that's not bad, hm? Not to mention the burns, cuts, bruises, internal injuries..."

Suddenly, his spear was gone, as was his costume and armor. In its place, he still wore the medical exoskeleton, which it was now clear was actually bolted to a few points on his skeleton. Under it, he had a thick sleeveless shirt, and simple cotton shorts that reached a bit past his knees; thick socks covered his feet, and sandals were strapped on.

His body, especially his arms and legs, was covered with a collection of strange markings. They almost appeared to be bruises, except the were coming up from underneath the skin. They stopped around his neck, oddly enough. Then again, considering the rather horrible scarring all over his scalp (which had nothing but thin red stubble on it), the milky-white right eye, and the scars criss-crossing his face, the bruises seemed the least of his concern.

"Mastermind's top interrogators had quite a lot of fun with Sonya and I, though each in our own way. She retains her powers, while mine are mostly burnt out. Caused all the sound-producing nodules under my skin to burst one by one, you see.

That's why you're here. This world, it's a thin veneer of an advanced utopia over a rotten core of mind control, torture, metahuman supremacy, and cheerful, subtle conquest. Half the world fell to Mastermind's control without a shot being fired."

He paused to take a sip from the glass "Sonya" had provided.

"That half helped conquer most all of the rest. The point is, this world, it's not free. It may not be as blatant about it as some dimensions, but Mastermind tries to control everything and everyone, in any way he can. I'll give you all the pamphlets later. Point is, this world's a rotten place to live if you believe in freedom and all those wonderful things.

So some of us cooked up a resistance. It's being led by...other parties who we won't name. But there are individual cells, for lack of a better descriptor. I have inherited leadership of this one, as of a couple of years ago."

He turned to face Arrowhawk.

"When your counterpart was captured on an oil rig by Mastermind himself. We're not sure what happened to him; I'm pretty sure he's still alive somewhere, though. That we aren't all dead means they haven't ever gotten any meaningful information out of him."

He faces the rest.

"That's why you're all here, at least in general. All of you have counterparts that helped us in one way or another. But all of your counterparts are no longer "in the game", or weren't as active in it as you all are."

He actually coughed in embarrassment, and his scarred cheeks perhaps reddened a bit as he spoke his next words.

"I had planned to ask for your help. However, I was captured two weeks ago and freed a week ago. I've only been conscious for less than a day. The operation to just snatch you was already in motion. My subordinates panicked, between my capture and the intelligence we had received. It was that very intelligence that landed me in a torture chamber, actually. "

He pulled a few sheets of paper from a pocket in his shorts, laying them out on the table. They were simplified schematics for...well, Ironclad might be the only one to recognize it was some sort of advanced computer.

"Quantom supercomputer. The goal is to use it to, essentially, predict the future. Or at least, the most likely way it will develop. It'll let them advance a lot of their science by leaps and bounds. Which, considering their behavior "modification" methods are advanced already...Plus, it'll let them decide which dimensions and planets will be the easiest marks. Mastermind intends to spread his influence as far as possible.

And it's going to be done in less than a week."

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