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Shocking Developments (IC)


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November 28th, 2012

DeCosta Rail Yard, 4:53 PM

Greenbank, Freedom City

In the superhero business, there's always a level of risk involved. Whether it's rescuing a cuddly cat from a tree or going toe-to-toe with a heavyweight bruiser capable of lifting van over his head, it's often good practice to keep on your toes - always ready for any situation, no matter how large it might be. But sometimes even the best laid plans go awry, and things go bad. One wayward arrow or misaligned throw can mean the difference between startling success and bitter defeat - but even then, sometimes you get lucky.

This time was no exception.

From the rising dust and smoke of the battle, a dozen armed goons were scattered about the scene of the rail yard. Many wore the colors of their gang, while others remained more inconspicuous; either laid out unconsciously within the gravel-filled landscape beside the long abandoned railroad, whilst others were stuck to beams or buildings. Still, others were propped against the various illicit shipping warehouses or thrown over empty storage barrels, their hair standing on-end from their rather shocking encounter. Weapons and armaments of various sorts litter the ground, from the common handcannon to the more modest brass knuckles and switchblades so common amongst petty criminals. For the pair of heroes, it was a fortuitous victory over the drug trafficking ordeal that had been this particular den of decadence. With the Cutters' meager supply of Max and Zoom routed by their serendipitous intervention, many lives would be saved, the shipment now all but shutdown in its entirety. The battle won and our heroes sound in their success, it was now down to little more than calling in the authorities to clean up the whole fiasco that was the Cutters' operation.

But it had come at a cost.

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Sitting atop a lone crate where the large brawl between the thugs and the pair of heroes, the Bee-Keeper was looking quite distraught - or at least as distraught as his helmet would allow visibly since he trawled his way from his prone position and onto his new soapbox. There he was, just tinkering with what looked like a little compartment on his wrist, frantically tapping it with a thick metallic finger as if hitting it any harder would have a different effect than the one it was currently having. That is to say, an effect at all.

"No, no, no!" bemoaned the young hero, his synthetic voice modulator offline as he struggled to fix his own blithering mistake. Things had been going swimmingly for the most part during the ordeal, right up until he got a little too excited about putting down one of the crooks with a shotgun. He saw an opening and thought he could whack him good upside the head... but inadvertently strayed into the other electrokinetic guy's bolt of energy, striking him right in the back below the wings. Where once the Bee-Keeper III was doing well, he was suddenly helpless. From what little experience he'd had, electrical blasts didn't really seem to do anything, but this one managed to do something... and, of course, Baxter had no idea what that something was!

Whatever the problem was, it was taking its toll. The suit, without its quantity of electrically-fueled nano-bees to keep it moving, felt like a ton of bricks on Baxter's shoulders. No flight, no blasts, no super-strength... just a big hunk of inconveniently heavy metal draped over his shoulders. What was the problem? Why weren't the bees rebuilding themselves, or the suit's electrical generator re-engaging? Baxter didn't know - and he couldn't even diagnose the issue without the on-board display!

"Man, this is not good! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Should have been paying more attention instead of... urgh!" the boy chided himself, voice only slightly muffled behind the increasingly heavy insectile helmet as he continued to tap away fruitlessly. It was clear: the suit just wasn't going to power back up. Not without some kind of repair. But without even being able to find out what he needed to repair, he was up a creek without a battery backup, a small sigh escaping his lips as the palms of his gauntlets enveloped his face. He just didn't know what to do.

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Ohh geez, Voltage thought to himself. Ohh, geez, that's not a good thing. He watched as the stray blast hit the unfortunate individual. He watched as what looked like a total system shut down affected the armor. He dashed forward, glad the opposition was down.

"Hey, um, you okay?" He asked, looking around the strange, bee-like armor. "I'm sorry about the blast, I should have watched what I was doing better." He admitted.

The suit was pretty fried. Didn't take a genius to figure that out. Still, he hoped the guy could fix his own armor. "I can teleport, if you need to get back to your base for repairs. It's the least I can do for frying your suit."

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Wallowing in his own brash mistake, it caught the young hero by surprise to hear the contrary from the electrically-charged young man in the form of an apology. And all this base talk - man, what Baxter wouldn't give for a better secret hideout than his bedroom! But that was neither here nor there. For the time being, the Bee-Keeper was in a precarious spot; neither able to make the repairs he needed himself, and more or less stuck in his suit, unable to pull it off without either outside or mechanical aid.

"Just great," Baxter mentally chided himself, releasing his hands from over his hidden face as he looked back up towards the grey-haired teenager. "This can't be happening. Without the suit..." he continued within his little world locked within his mind, a frantic, almost mortified look creased his face behind the bug-like helmet. The thought was too much to bear.

"Do I look okay?! I can't fly, I can't jump, I can't even turn this thing on!" the armored youth replied sharply, though he quickly bit his tongue. He was flustered and agitated; things hadn't gone as he'd planned. And he'd certainly never planned for this to happen! "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap 'cause, y'know, y'didn't mean to or whatever. It's just... this wasn't exactly how I thought tonight would pan out."

There came an awkward pause from the boy as his hands found his face once more, obfuscating his insect-like visage as his mind raced.

"I... I, uh..." the Bee-Keeper began anew, slouching wearily upon his create as his arms fell to his knees in sullen defeat, his tone solemn and grim. "I don't, like, have one. A secret base, I mean. I don't even know how to fix this thing! The last time it was all paperclips and junk to get the circuits leading to the arms working again. But this? I just... man, I don't even know where to start."

He felt stupid for admitting it. But the truth was he simply didn't have the know-how to fix this kind of problem. Sure, little things he could do, but this was way out of his league. He needed to find someone - anyone! - who could fix this problem, and quick! The last thing he wanted to do was walk back home with a ton of metal sheets clinging to his body the whole way, only to have his parents find out he'd been moonlighting. A beating he could take; but Baxter's mom? Yeah. Scary.

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Voltage felt terrible, simply terrible. But luckily, there was something he could do. He looked at the other man and said. "I can probably fix it." There was no doubt in his voice. "I know where there's an abandoned warehouse. I can set up a temporary workshop there and get your armor fixed, good as new. We can get a ski mask or something for your face. Keep both our identities secret."

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The new revelation that this young hero might be able to fix the suit certainly perked the Bee-Keeper right up, nearly shooting up to his feet as the supposed know-how of this youth made itself known. Truth be told, Baxter might have done just that, were it not for the fact the suit was so heavy on its own to make rapid movement nearly impossible.

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place?!" exclaimed the excitable armored lad, flailing with exasperated, nearly tangible relief. But then came the clincher - and boy, what a one it was!

"That... uh... that other part might be a problem," the Bee-Keeper began, giving a tug on his helmet to emulate the issue. He didn't want to tip his hand too early and give away his less-than-reputable identity, but it seemed like it was going to be his only choice. "Without power, I can't get the stupid thing off they way it normally does. There's 'sposed to be, like, some sorta safety switch somewhere on the back, but I can't reach it."

The young man sighed, his voice echoing in his helmet as he did as such.

"Good job on that design, Uncle Barry," Baxter thought, eyes rolling even as the snide-worthy remark crossed his mind. "Hope you weren't planning on getting zapped if you ever decided to use this particular model."

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"That's not a problem at all, I can teleport both of us somewhere safe, an abandoned warehouse. Then I can go get some tools and come right back, mobile workshop, as it were."

With that, both of them were suddenly in a different place.

Voltage apparently turned into electricity repeatedly and came back again and again, disappearing and reappearing with all sorts of odd tools.

He walked over to Baxter and, with a few moments of tinkering, managed to find the button the other man was referring to. With a few seconds, the suit was released.

"There's a mask, a ski mask, on the table." He said. "I've got another thing to go get, so if you want to put the mask on and conceal your identity, go ahead." He said, before vanishing.

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"Okay! Sounds go--" but Baxter didn't even get to finish his sentence before being flashed away, arriving in the aforementioned warehouse only seconds later. "--od."

Blinking his eyes at the sudden shift in locale, Baxter nearly topped himself over from the discomforting jaunt - he'd expected it, but he hadn't anticipated how exactly it would work! It was quite the disorienting affair, what with being transposed so quickly, and while Baxter wasn't reeling from the experience, he could nevertheless feel a peculiar knot forming in his gut from the abrupt exportation. But that was the least bizarre thing the de-powered Bee-Keeper saw, as his attention was deftly drawn to the grey-haired youth zipping about the abandoned shipping den, transforming back and forth between an obviously human shape and arcs of high-voltage electricity, his own hair pricking up slightly with each little excursion by the shockingly swift adventurer. Freedom City never failed to surprise Baxter, what with its vast array of heroic individuals.

With the release switch tripped, the familiar hiss of pressurized air escaping the suit filled the warehouse. Even as he felt the liberating rush of fresh air vacate the armor, discomfort wormed its way into Baxter's gut. He was leery, to be sure, about even so much as removing it in the midst of another person - after all, a superhero's secret identity is their most prized possession! But with his battlesuit inoperable and the only person he knew who could fix it zipping about the warehouse, it was hard for Baxter to say no. He needed that suit working; the thought of parting with it almost heartbreaking for the young man.

"Hope this guy knows what he's doing..."

Emitting a low sigh, the Bee-Keeper nodded his thanks towards the fellow willing to lend a hand, eyeing the ski mask on the table. It felt so strange to be so helpless; to be forced into a situation where his fate was in the hands of someone he barely knew. Perhaps, in a way, this was what everyone he'd ever saved felt like - the comparison both startling and eye-opening at the same time.

As Voltage once again disappeared into the aether, the Bee-Keeper quickly dislodged himself from the burdensome battlesuit, slipping out of the back with several loud clatters as the empty husk crashed to the ground. Gambling on a combination of good faith and mutual respect, Baxter looked around quickly to be sure the other fellow was still not around before hastily donning the provided garment; a little crooked at first, but a few tugs around the corners seemed to have smoothed it out all right. He felt ridiculous with his blue jeans and Joy Bunnies tee-shirt while sporting the often-criminal accouterments atop his head, looking not unlike an out-of-place thug or convenience store hold-up artist.

"All right, I think I'm, uh, good now," yelped the dark-skinned teenage hero, a distinct lack of confidence finding its way into his tone as he called out to his unseen accomplice.

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Voltage returned with more tools, and sat down on a chair he had also teleported in. He looked at the suit for a moment, and then bent down, inspecting various parts and components.

"This is very sophisticated technology." He said, popping open one of the components. "But, I can fix it."

He glanced inside and, seemingly looked at it for a bout five seconds. "My electric blast caused a surge in part of the power grid." He said. "Normally, the suit would have surge protection that would stop it, but my blast somehow bypassed the protections, thanks to a very unusual and rare flaw. With those components fried, the power core can't send power to the rest of the suit. The repairs will take a bit, mostly because I have to outright replace some of the fuses. However, your suit will be back up and running in about ten minutes, tops."

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Blinking again in disbelief, Baxter just looked at the husk of man-shaped bee-armor, then back to Voltage, then back to the armor again. It would be a terrible lie if Baxter thought he knew what the techno-savant was talking about specifically, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially so given that he could theoretically get the high-tech piece of equipment up and operational again in but a few minutes! This was most fortuitous, because Baxter was anything but relaxed when it came to tinkering with the sophisticated hardware he'd so surreptitiously located.

"Just ten minutes? Baxter repeated, as if stunned by the revelation. "Man, thanks! I mean, seriously, I'd owe you a solid if you can get this thing back together," the elated powerhouse chimed excitedly, a smile broadening across his face. While this Voltage fellow seemed to be holding himself responsible, Baxter couldn't help but feel he was also to blame. If he'd been more attentive and less eager to rush in, his compatriot might not be in such a bind - or, at the least, feel as such.

Regardless, the duo were here now, and what's done was done. Voltage was already hard at work fixing the burnt-out circuitry, and Baxter was sitting idly by, watching with enthused interest at the handiwork of his scientific chum. But perhaps the unarmored Bee-Keeper could do something to ease the tension. No sense in dwelling on the mistakes already made, as long as they could be rectified!

"So, like, where'd you learn to be so good with all this tech stuff?" inquired the curious ski-mask wearing hero, his own interest piqued as Voltage went to work with all the various tools and gizmos within the shutdown suit of armor.

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"Well, you don't owe me anything." Voltage said as he got to work. "You probably didn't do yourself any favors rushing in, but I didn't do you any favors blasting like that. So this is just fair. Besides, what kind hero would I be not to take a few minutes out of my day to help a fellow hero?"

"Well...I was always into computers." He said as he took a few small parts and began to put them in place. "But what gave me my powers also made me super smart. Really smart. So I studied...a lot, and became practically an expert in this stuff."

Of course, truth be told, he was an expert now. There were a few people, here and there, who knew more and could do more with technology than he could, but, he could measure himself one of the world's foremost experts on the subject. He didn't want to brag, of course. Wasn't in his nature.

"I'm not exactly sure how, or why, you have a suit of powered armor that you don't know how to fix, but I bet it's an interesting story." He grinned, almost teasing the other man. "Of course, I'm not going to ask about that." He said, as if to reassure his fellow hero that the details weren't necessary.

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"Cool, cool. We'll call it even then," Baxter nodded, content with this agreement.

"But yeah. It's... uh... yeah. It's a long story," the boy explained, that uncomfortable feeling about his family once more rearing its ugly head as a pit formed its way into his stomach. There was always something awkward about this whole situation Baxter found himself in; it was generally understood that people would always be curious about his origin (provided they were curious at all!), and the taint that his uncle had laid upon Baxter's new claim was one that was still fresh on many peoples' minds.

"Anyway, your powers are actually really cool! Seems like you totes lucked out on the whole super-roulette deal," Baxter praised, tapping one foot incessantly as he watched wide-eyed at Voltage's task at hand, careful to watch what his companion was finagling with in-case something else went awry. "Super-smart, can shoot electricity... man, I'd trade you, if I thought I could or whatever."

Laughing lightly at his own little quip, Baxter quickly silenced himself. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best choice of words; and he certainly didn't want to seem petty or jealous, even if the latter was somewhat true. Clearing his throat, the young boy rubbed his own still tender shoulder awkwardly, as if struggling to find the right words to amend his own self-identified faux pas.

"What I mean is, like, you've got superpowers. And that's cool, y'know? But all I've got is this..." explained the Bee-Keeper, pointing lovingly towards the empty vessel that was his armor, locked within the hands of someone he barely knew. "... and without it, I don't exactly have a lot goin' for me in that department, if you know what I mean."

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He shrugged. "There are disadvantages." He said as he continued his repair. "The electricity is cool, and the super smarts are too, but I don't feel human sometimes. Kind of, disconnected, you know? I haven't even been interested in girls since I got my powers. I met this, what I figure was incredibly beautiful super-heroine a few months back. Supposed to be gorgeous. I just didn't care."

He tinkered some more. "Don't sell yourself short." He said. "Regardless of how you got this suit, you chose to use it to help people, do good with it. You could have ignored it, or robbed a bank, or whatever else. But there you are, risking your neck in a piece of technology you don't really understand to help people who may not even appreciate it."

"Choosing to be a superhero is easy when you can fly, teleport, shoot lightning and have super-intelligence. Choosing to be a super hero when you have armor that you don't know how to fix and don't understand? Harder choice."

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Listening to Voltage's little tale of woe regarding the ladies, Baxter couldn't help but feel a twinge uncomfortable. He couldn't really relate; how could he have? Sure, there were times when the young African-American hero felt out of place, or overwhelmed by the sheer lack of fulcrum in his line of work. But he never felt alienated or disconnected from his humanity - heck, he didn't even know how that could feel. It was a truly foreign concept to the young unpowered hero.

"I guess. I never really thought of it like that," he finally replied, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly as the situation took on a surprisingly serious tone. "Still, it's not so hard. Y'know, with the armor. That's sorta the clincher though."

Clearing his throat again, Baxter adjusted his posture, slouching over as he looked on in awe and concern at the goings-on within his beloved suit of armor.

"'Sides, maybe it was just... I don't know, nerves or something for you? Pretty sure everyone's got their problems talking to girls - might be she just wasn't your type. S'all good."

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Voltage popped more panels and set to work again. "I don't really have a 'type', anymore. I mean, imagine the most beautiful woman in the world. The kind of woman you'd just stand there and gawk at if you weren't careful. Now imagine she doesn't get any kind of emotional response out of you, at all."

He looked up at Baxter. "Now if you're worried, learn some more skills. Learn how to fix the armor, how it works, that sort of thing. Don't have to be a super genius to pick up a trade, or useful skills. Take some courses, that sort of stuff."

He popped a few panels back in place. "Like, a good example; you know that electricity is generated, and then carried to the source by conductors, right? Wires and stuff? Well, wires are built to take only so much power before it damages them. The wires in your suit, they were protected from that kind of damage. But there was a flaw in that protection. Seems my blast fried a specific set of these wires. Without those wires, you can't get power to it. Just like if you destroy the power cord on an appliance, it doesn't work."

"Though, it's not really wires in there." He admitted. "Semi-conductors, super-conductors, resistors, it's all pretty complex, but that basic principle is the same."

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Struggling to make the connection, all Baxter could do was follow along with the increasingly dour-sounding man's example. He couldn't really think of the end-all be-all woman of his dreams, but in lieu of that, he tried to settle for something else. One by one, he imagined all the pretty girls he'd met: from that cute girl who always sat across from him at lunch, to even Kristin and Tona at the Espadas School. Not that he ever got much of a response from any of the fine ladies he'd come across as of late, but still, the analogy was beginning to hit home as he envisioned them spontaneously espousing their affections for him, only to have the now-apathetic Baxter shun their advances. Perhaps it didn't have the same impact as if it actually happened, but if nothing else, Baxter could comprehend on some level the odd emotional state: a hollowness, of sorts. It was a rather chilling revelation; one that he hoped he'd never actually have to embrace.

"Yeesh. Sounds rough," affirmed the incognito ski-mask wearing hero in the Joy Bunnies tee-shirt, resting his elbows flatly against the table as he continued to survey the work being done on his beloved suit. "Can only imagine how you deal with that. Not sure I could handle feeling... I don't even know what you'd call that."

Another awkward silence ensued from the Bee-Keeper, now thoroughly feeling displaced by the strange sensation Voltage must feel all the time. Even now as he tried to understand it, his brain just didn't seem capable of doing so. Perhaps, instead, it was time to change the subject and move away from something that was feeling progressively more morbid.

"Man, you're giving me a headache," the teenaged boy said, still puzzling over the odd short in the system even as the grey-haired technician plopped panels back where they once belonged. Even with all the explanations of what was what and where it went, Baxter was still having problems following along with Voltage's instruction. It was like learning a second language, sans the beginner course, and with each component listed off, Baxter struggled against the grain to retain the various tidbits he could; and while the simpler analogies helped, it still left him scratching his brain. "So, it's just... it works like this: wires move electricity, but too much is bad. But what's the deal with this fault you mentioned? Is it, like, gonna be a problem?" he continued, both curiosity and concern decked in his voice.

"I'm just sayin', is there a way to just keep it from happening again? Next time I might not be so lucky."

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"Actually, yes, I'm planning on fixing that flaw." He said with a smile. "It was a couple of bad wires, basically. Not designed right to handle the electric overload. I'm simply replacing them with ones that broke with ones that won't in the future."

"I don't mean to make it sound like I hate my powers or anything. The disconnect is weird, but I've done a lot of good otherwise. I figure sooner or later, I'll get used to my powers and go back to normal. As normal as I was before."

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"Oh, sweet! Thanks again, Voltage!" the Bee-Keeper praised, brimming with enthusiasm as the Bee-Keeper Armor neared its completed repairs. It was quite the load off of Baxter's shoulders to have this whole little accident put behind them, and twice as eager to get back within the safety of his fully-working metallic skin. It felt awkward being out-and-about in the heroic scene without his precious keepsake; and even now, despite his best endeavors to save face for himself, Baxter was feeling less than confident in the guise of a mild-mannered teenager.

"Hey, I totes understand," prattled on the earnestly ignorant young man, his own endeavors at fully understanding the scope of Voltage's particular issue all but impossible for him. But still, a little encouragement couldn't hurt, even if the other fellow felt like greener pastures were on the horizon. Shuffling awkwardly on his impromptu box-chair, the out-of-place middle-class kid gave a lighthearted smile. "You're probably right anyway. I mean, I can't get how you really feel, but I think I understand what you mean and all. Just... y'know, try not to sweat it. Like you said, it'll probably even out."

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"There." Voltage said, as the armor suddenly collapsed and became a backpack again. "Power's back, flaw fixed. Even made sure the flaw wasn't anywhere else in it either." He put the tool down and sat down.

"It really is an interesting piece of technology. It was almost worth it to get my eye on it. I've met people with powered armor before, but every suit seems like, it's own thing. All of it is different, like snowflakes, each suit tailored to it's owner specifically."

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With the backpack shaped equipment repaired, Baxter aptly took up his requisite arms, straddling the heavy piece of metal back onto his back. With a simple press of a button, the transformation began as sheaves of protective armor and instruments began to encase his otherwise comparatively frail physique, enshrouding the dark-skinned teenager in a heavily-armed striped battlesuit. As the helmet once more enveloped him and the delightful little dancing bee made its stellar return, the familiar flashing green light in the corner of the heads-up display gave Baxter a warm feeling - everything was working again!

"Snowflake, huh?" the re-minted Bee-Keeper repeated, clenching each hand into a fist a few times to test the servo-mechanisms. Even now, the whir of the tiny robotic bees nestled in what remained of the pack portion of the clever armor's disguise buzzed with energy, busily moving about and doing whatever-it-was they normally did when the Hero of the Hive wasn't utilizing them externally. Voltage's statement struck him in a way; not in the sense of right and wrong, but in that of being peculiar. He'd never really given much thought to it, but maybe the armor was never really designed for his uncle. Then again, his uncle was a few workers short of a hive.

"Guezz I haven't really zzeen any other zzuperheroezz with battlezzuitzz, zzo I haven't exxactly had zzomething to compare it to. But I think thizz one definitely fitzz me well. Pretty much, anyway," the much more amicable young man prattled on, testing out this-and-that on the suit just to be sure.

"Zztill, glad to have it working again. At leazzt thizz whole, y'know, thing happened after we beat all the bad guyzz up."

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"Heh, I hear you." Voltage said. "I've seen several inventors, brilliant men and women, who wear powered armor. Each person has their own way of building it, so they seem so different to me. It's really cool to see how versatile technology can be."

He handed the buzzing hero a piece of paper. "This is a secure email address, virtually unhackable. If you ever run into any more tech trouble, suit malfunctions, that sort of thing, send me an email. I get the internet in my brain, so I'll get it instantly."

He turned to his makeshift workshop. "We heroes have to stick together, after all. There's a lot of bad in the world, and if we plan on making it a better place, we have to work together to fix it."

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Taking the slip of parchment, the Bee-Keeper looked it over for a moment, surprised at how willingly the young man was to give out such vital information regardless of its security. But still, behind the facade of insect-like superiority, Baxter couldn't help but brim at Voltage's little statement about sticking together. It wasn't the first time he'd heard someone espouse the same ideals; of unity and camaraderie amongst those who risked everything for the safety of others. He sounded just like Fleur de Joie, and that sentiment alone was all the confirmation the Bee-Keeper needed to know the man was wholly sincere in his words. Depositing the paper into his wrist-bound compartment with the other he'd been given, the Hero of the Hive snapped it shut with a flick. He wished Voltage could see him smiling.

"Thankzz. I'd, y'know, give you zzome way to get in touch with me, but... uh... I don't really have any kind of dedicated channel or whatever," the Bee-Keeper replied, sheepishly uncertain as to how else to word his peculiar problem. "But, hey, I can uzzually pick up what other people broadcazzt over the radio, zzo you never know. Give a zzhout and I'll probably come runnin'. Maybee nexxt time we can zzkip the whole getting zzapped bit."

Checking the various systems one last time out of paranoia, the Bee-Keeper gave a furtive nod to the techno-savant. With the bad guys thwarted, his most prized possession restored, and a new friend made, things had turned out for the best after all. Funny how that always seemed to happen for the Bee-Keeper. Looking towards the exit, he knew he wouldn't have much time before he needed to miraculously arrive home to play up the act of normalcy he'd been practicing of late. No doubt if he were tardy again for dinner, his mother would begin to question her son's outings after school. This was something Baxter just couldn't have; not right now, anyway.

"It wazz really great to meet ya, Voltage. I'd really like to hear more about what you know about battlezzuitzz and zztuff, and I really can't thank you enough for fixxing mine, but I've... uh... I've got a previouzz engagement I really need to get to," the armored youth said as he made his way towards the double-doors barring the entryway into the old warehouse. "Zzeriouzzly though about the zzhouting deal if you're ever in a jam. I'll bee around; you can count on it."

With his piece said, the Bee-Keeper III took to the skies once more, heading northwards against the setting sun's fading horizon. All and all, a win for Team Justice! Now all he had to do was get back home before his food got cold and his mother killed him so he could live to enjoy his impromptu victory.

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