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February 20, Saturday, 11.25AM, 2016

The Cresswell Building, corner of Lombard and Madison, Freedom City

 

After making a full physical recovery from the harrowing battle in the Goodman Building, it was necessary for the Claremont students involved to undergo psychiatric evaluation. Riley already had regular sessions with Claremont's experienced counselor, and Naomi was signed up withhim as well, but Robin's trials and the workload on-campus had led the Headmistress to, in a rare moment, contact an outside expert for help.

 

Which was why Robin was standing outside a dazzling Art Deco skyscraper in the heart of downtown Freedom, stylized City Fathers and their hangers-on smiling patronizingly down at her. The sun shone down with unusual warmth for mid-February on the Atlantic coast, the sky was clear, the air marginally fresher, the seagulls making their plaintive cry over the gentle rumble of late morning traffic. A perfect day for sitting in a room answering a stranger's questions. 

 

The terse note in Headmistress Callie Summers' handwriting instructed

 

Floor 15. Dr. Chandler. Be polite. 

Edited by Ari
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Robin had recovered quickly, unfortunately not quickly enough to avoid her hospital stay, but still fast enough that she was off to meet with the psychiatrist - psychologist - whatever. Without her leather jacket, Robin's hunched in posture was much clearer as was the chiseled musculature of her arms and back through the worn thin shirt she wore. It was oversized, as most of Robin's clothes were, and certainly had seen better days. After the Goodman Building incident, her wardrobe was significantly diminished as the entire outfit had been destroyed. And irradiated. 

 

Her expression stoney, she dutifully shouldered into the building and headed for the elevator, following the headmistresses instructions. She was prompt in arriving outside of the doctor's door, her hand jammed deeply into the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders tense. Her body was coiled, tight and uncomfortable with her surroundings.

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GM

 

From outside, at first Robin couldn't hear anything. Then the faint drone of voices behind the door grew, and grew, until she could clearly hear a woman shouting "Calm down? You want ME to CALM DOWN?! I will show that miserable pile of £{+[ that he does not DESERVE Throb Stromsturm! Out of my way!"

 

There was a horrific crash of breaking wood, a cry of surprise and pain, and suddenly the door was wrenched open by a stocky woman with dirty-blonde hair, a face blazing red, and one black eye. She was suddenly eclipsed by another, taller yet slighter figure in an elegant red suit with their back to Robin who began "Please, Mrs. Stenson, control yourself-!"

 

Mrs. Stenson let out a roar like a lion, picked up the man and flung him out of sight into the office with another crash, and stormed out into the hall. As she passed Robin, she smiled sweetly "Sorry if I kept you waiting, dear. If you'll just excuse me...!" with that she vanished around the corner.

 

From inside the dark office the other voice called out, rich, aristocratic and refined despite the awkwardness of it needing to say "I beg your pardon, Mz. Chevalier, but would you please come in and help me up? I appear to be, er, stuck. In my wastepaper basket."

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  • 3 weeks later...

At the sound of conflict, Robin's entire posture tensed as she heard the angry voices. She watched the conflict, coiled and wary, uncertain if she ought to intervene and thrown off by the way the woman changed from enraged to smiling. It was a lot to take in and certainly not in line with her expectations. 

 

Robin blinked once and then stood up to peer around the door way. "That didn't seem to go well," the young woman commented in a quiet voice as she dutifully came around the corner and went to see about removing the doctor from his predicament. She reached out and picked the doctor up with well-contained strength to set him gently back on his feet. "Are you alright? Do you need me to, uh, call someone?" Robin asked as she turned her head around looking for who that might be.

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GM

 

"Nothing wounded but my pride, young lady, though I thank you for the concern." Dr. Chandler close up was striking, from his large, intelligent brown eyes almost dancing with undisguised merriment to a well-tended Mephistophelean goatee curling from his strong chin.

 

Somehow the doctor's legs and arms had gotten tangled up around each other and behind his back, and it was with difficulty that they were gotten to where they belonged. Straightening up, the man gingerly touched a thin red line that broke the dark skin of his cheek, wincing. "I am most dreadfully sorry for your witnessing one of my few professional failures. Mrs. Stenson is one of my longest patients, and that sort of outburst is simply unheard of in my line. Really, it's a damning blot on my psychologist's escutcheon that shall never be dimmed or concealed." For a moment, Dr. Chandler looked very grave, but he grinned, tossed the matter aside with a wave of his hand and marched over his desk, broken clean in half and lying on the floor, to retrieve Robin's file.

 

Pausing for a second to scan it, the doctor was illuminated from behind by the massive windows that dominated his office. The room was not very wide, but it soared upwards and curved so that all the light fixtures had to be on the same wall as his office door. The windows didn't let in much light, blocked by the rest of the Cresswell Building, especially one massive effigy of some obscure founding father with an imperious smile and a patronizng set to his eyes. In fact, you couldn't see any of the street from up here, just the city skyline facing roughly north.

 

"Please take a seat, Mz. Chevalier," Dr. Chandler was already setting back up his deep high-backed leather chair, which he settled into with a gesture to a couch across from him and behind a low coffee table "or stand, or walk about, whatever sets you at ease in unfamiliar surroundings."

 

Scanning the file again and taking out a small tablet and stylus from his coat pocket, the doctor began simply "How do you feel about being here? Why, from your perspective only, do you think Mz. Summers sent you to me?"

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  • 4 weeks later...

"Stand, thank you," Robin replied, bracing her legs slightly apart, her arms folded across her chest in a manner that looked less like she was hugging herself and far more like she was peering imperiously down on her city. Guarded and wary, certainly, but it also was as clear as a thumbprint a sign of someone who had ingrained the street culture of presenting an imposing figure. She'd watched him move around silently, giving a small shake of her head to dismiss the sudden violence as if it was nothing exceptional. "Happens." Robin agreed, her thumbs hooked in the corners of her elbows and her posture relaxed in a way that made it easy to stand for however long she was going to be here in the office.

 

"Mz. Summers is a real big fan of therapy, from my experience and I guess the school counselor's not making much headway," Robin said without a hint of remorse. She met the doctor's gaze directly, not dissembling. "I'm here because I killed monsters that looked like people and Mz. Summers wants to make sure that its not going to do irreparable harm to my psyche... and probably to make sure it doesn't tip me closer to being a bad guy. I know people worry about that too." Her expression remained even, although the muscles in her shoulders and biceps tensed and bunched for a moment. "But I'm not, and I'm not going to be one, so. It's fine."

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GM

 

Dr. Chandler's eyes crinkled nearly out of sight as he beamed. "Such a positive attitude! That is a pleasant change, though you didn't hear that from me." Settling back fully into the chair, one long leg crossing over another, the doctor scribbled away busily "Mz. Summers quite fits your assessment, at least from my point of view. She and her father are passionate believers in the capability of any reasoning being to be redeemed."

 

"Which brings us to our next topic." Chandler peered over his tablet "You call these...things you killed "monsters". In my experience such a word is not used lightly. Why, if I may, do you call them that? You say they looked like people, but ar-were not? Would you elaborate?"

 

Twirling the silver-lined stylus between his fingers, the man watched Robin's face intently, his dark eyes seeming almost to glow from the dim light cast through the window.

Edited by Ari
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Robin shrugged a little uncomfortably, not entirely sure if the praise wasn't pulling her leg a bit. Folding her arms up a little tighter, she turned that solemn grey gaze onto the doctor. She sighed once before dutifully turning her attention to the question. She was aware enough to know that this particular question was far more about her point of view than the nature of the Ferals as she had no doubt that Callie Summers had been very complete in the files she sent over.

 

"They were folks once - good folks, and that's sad," Robin agreed, her words even and her gaze fixed at a point on the wall, not really looking at the bookshelf but rather remembering the awful noises and sights and smells from that day. "Riley's world had something bad that happened and it twisted up the people - turned them wrong and nothing they've done has been able to fix that. Maybe, eventually, some super science over here might be able to but we don't know anything about how that thing spreads. There were super scientists in Riley's world, after all."

 

Her gaze cut back to Dr. Chandler, sharpening as she focused on the man rather than the memories. "But everything that made them who they were was gone and all that's left is just this malevolent sorta cunning to feed on other people. I go to school with kids that are witches and demons and vampires and whatever but they're still aware in their heads. They're not monsters."

 

Robin's gaze cut away then, breaking the intensity of her direct gaze once more. "Those things, they still wore human skin but there was nothin' left inside anymore."

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  • 3 weeks later...

GM

 

Chandler didn't follow up at first, and as Robin's voice stopped the only sounds were her own heartbeat, the tap-tap of the stylus, the rustle of fabric, the faint noises of the city just outsde and a small sad voice.

 

Looks just like her...same eyes...should never have to see something like that...

 

"Dr. Marquez mentioned something similar, in the first and only time he talked about his work with Wander with me. Gabriel doesn't like me, doesn't think I've noticed." Putting the tablet on the nearby table, Chandler folded his hands against his stomach and rested his head against the sumptuous chair back, his eyes shut "He called it "survival abstraction", akin to how American soldiers fought to defeat and slaughter 'Charlie' and 'Communists', but got along with Viet Cong veterans better than American anti-war protestors and draft-dodgers. It's part of why the term "villain" and "hero" have been adopted by masks on both sides of the law."

 

The man opened his eyes and smiled "It is a very good sign that you can sympathize with these..." his shining eyes flicked to the tablet and back to Robin "...Ferals, Mz. Chevalier. But given the circumstances and the threat they posed, you and your comrades decided they had to die."

 

"Did you want there to be another way? I understand that apart from the...changed Atom Family, they were no match for you or the others, though they are extremely dangerous to an ordinary citizen like me." At the word "ordinary", Chandler grimaced wryly and glanced at his shattered desk.

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"An individual Feral wouldn't be a match for Riley or th'others but there was a pack of 'em and numbers makes them way more dangerous," Robin corrected the assessment politely but with the certainty that no teenager should really have in gauging numbers and threat. "Riley's at a disadvantage in close corridors too as he can't get the distance that's optimal. And with those kind'a numbers its a time game as I'll go down eventually."

 

She reached up to absently tuck her curl behind her ear and shrugged once, "I want a lot of things, doctor, doesn't mean they're actual options. Find its best to focus on what I can do and just keep moving. It's easier." Robin shifted slightly in her stance, not quite relaxing but settling in for a longer conversation, "But no one knows what caused it - or if it could spread here. Can't take the risk. Just can't."

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  • 4 weeks later...

GM

 

taptaptaptaptaptap

 

"I'll put you down for a 'yes', if you don't mind." Dr. Chandler said mildly, taking the reply well in stride, eyes roving over the tablet, fully absorbed and not even glancing at the report on the bisected desk beside him. "Dr. Marquez doesn't trust more nuanced analyses about 'his' patients from other doctors. I tell him "Marq, I'm in the same work, can't I go a little deeper?" but he just sets that jaw of his, looks at me like he's Judge of the Universe, and there's an end to it."

 

There was a long silence as Chandler stared at the glowing screen. Suddenly he looked up to meet Robin's eyes.

 

"If I may, I'm curious about this part you mentioned just now, about how you felt seeing and feeling the death of that "other" Victoria Atom. Your description was very...visceral, but a little out of place with your tactical assessment."

 

Robin hadn't said a word about that. Though of course the memories were all too easily brought back, but that wasn't nearly the same.

 

"It just seemed a little odd, going into such detail, given the topic." The man was also relaxed, the stylus flitting between his fingers, waiting for the sound and rational explanation this patient was so considerately providing.

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"I didn't mention," Robin said, her voice tightening. She fixed her grey eyed gaze on some point beyond the good doctor's shoulder, her posture tense and coiled as if she were waiting for a threat to bounce out from behind a couch. Unfortunately, this wasn't a situation she could punch into oblivion. Her hands flexed before she shifted and folded her arms up. "I'm not sure what you want me to tell you. I can tell you that tactically, I was in close with that Feral when Riley's arrow exploded her skull. I had to be the target - I can take the most damage. Would you like me to admit that I have more nightmares now?"

 

Her gaze flicked to the doctor, bleak for a moment, "I do," she said, because it was true, her tone matter of fact. "I remember how hot the... fluids were when they sprayed across my skin and the way my sneakers slipped a little in the mess. I remember the smell. I remember..." She looked back to the point on the wall and swallowed once. "And then I remember the way the next Feral died under my hands, adding to the mess that, at least at one point, was a person. I have a very good memory, Dr. Chandler. What would you like me to say?"

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GM

 

The man's head exploded under the sword. She collapsed into ash even as she screamed.

 

Dr. Chandler had the good grace to look away and be deeply chagrined. Or to look it, at least.

 

"I'm sorry, Robin. It is no excuse, but I rarely deal with cases about such slaughter. The last time I had to spend six hours talking to Commissioner Kane about it."

 

"Still not meeting Robin's eyes, he picked up the report and started skimming through it briskly "Must have been my memory playing tricks on me, anyway..."

 

The paper rustled in the suddenly very quiet, and very tense office. And it rustled. And rustled. Chandler's eyes were squinted both at the poor lighting and in sheer confusion as he came again to the end of the report. For the moment it seemed like he had forgotten his patient. 

 

"Nothing about that...but...I felt...bleedthrough...." At the last word he suddenly looked at Robin with something between delight and horror. The tablet on his lap slowly and comfortably crushed itself into a neat, square block of expensive scrap. Shakily, the man in red stood up, staring wide-eyed at the teenager. The block clattered to the floor. "Not possible to get bleedthrough from the Sleepers...you're

 

"Ultima!" The word rang out in the office, Chandler's face flushing as he clamped a hand over his mouth. Mumbling something, Chandler stood as if frozen, only his eyes trembling in their sockets, his pupils lit by a far-off blue light.

 

Stirring to life and dropping the hand from his mouth, Chandler whispered "Is she...your mother, you look so much...do you know what...?" His jaw locked, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears as he sank to his knees, staring up in desperation at Robin. "Please..."

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As the tension rose, Robin shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and at the shouted word, she dropped her stance back, fists up and ready to fight - although fight what, she wasn't entirely sure of. The doctor wasn't making much sense at all and the word he shouted had to meaning to her but Robin had never cold-cocked a person on their knees and she wasn't about to now. Her expression registered confusion although once the good doctor had made the connection, there were definite tells and marks of her mother's legacy. Although her features were an even blend of her parents, the stubborn line of her chin and those unforgiving grey eyes were her mother's. 

 

"Dr. Chandler?" She said slowly, forcing her fists to uncurl and reaching out one hand for the one that wavered in her general direction. Her brow creased as she took the man's hand uncertainly. At her core, Robin wanted to help people but she had no earthly idea what the good doctor needed. "Did... did you know my mother?" 

 

She had to ask it even if the question seemed wildly unlikely. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chandler stared up at Robin.

 

He burst out laughing. High-pitched and hysterical. He almost sounded relieved.

 

"Knew! Oh, oh what a way to find out! All these years, for this!" Springing to his feet and stumbling away to the window, still gurgling and shaking, the doctor slumped against the cold, transparent surface. 

 

"Knew! Knewknewknew...she's gone...all wasted...it's all over..."

 

Recovering from the whirlwind of emotions, Chandler spun on his well-shod heel back to Robin, the bright, polite smile he'd been wearing when she'd come in screwed onto his face. Coming back, he deftly repaired the slight disarray of his suit, plopping back into his chair.

 

"Yes, Mz. Chevalier, in fact I was quite well-acquainted with your mother. Though I am hardly surprised she never mentioned me. Part of the reason she was exiled from Hyperborea(a dreadful business!) and all that, rather despised me actually, me and that brat Kal-Zed. In that life I was called Xan-Jak."

 

"I was...well, I still am, what we Ultima call a vril-ya, a loose analogy would be..." Chandler cast about for a good fit before giving up entirely "...a Jedi Master. Someone able to adeptly use and manipulate what we call the vril, the great life-flow of the cosmos that runs through all living beings. Now that I am actually paying attention"(the look of contrition and regret on his face was downright painful)"I sense a great deal of that energy in you. Your mother, did she ever mention anything? About herself? About what you are, or can do?" He looked closely and curiously at his nominal patient.

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  • 3 weeks later...

"My mother didn't talk much about Sweden," Robin said tightly, her brow creasing at the stream of unfamiliar words. She wasn't familiar with her heritage at all, but it showed in the tightly coiled, almost military stance that she'd almost certainly gotten from her mother. "I know she was an immigrant - my father was too, but I was born here - in Freedom City were they met. I don't know anything about any of that and the school hasn't been able to figure out why I'm stronger than normal. I don't register on their typical scans and stuff for common mutations and all."

 

There was more to it, of course, but Robin's Ultima heritage had integrated so seamlessly into her human physiology that she had none of the more showy cosmic powers, at least none that had manifested, and her intellect and information retention had mostly simply masked the lack of proper education for the last few years. "She liked how hard I worked at gymnastics," Unbidden, a lump rose in Robin's throat at the memories of happier times, of her mother's quiet smiles and maternal pride. Ruthlessly, she suppressed the emotions and her voice turned harsh unintentionally, "But my mom didn't have any powers or anything. She cleaned houses - she worked hard at it."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Dr. Chandler leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs and staring up at the high ceiling, almost lost in the gloom. "Sweden" he murmured at last, a wry smile stretching his lips fitfully "well, I've been there, Ais-Nah would certainly fit in. Though they may be a little less blond than they used to, five hundred years ago. I regret to say, Robin," Chandler lowered his head to face his nominal patient "that your mother was not entirely forthcoming."

 

"Hyperborea is, so we have discovered, a fragment of what is now the Swedish coast that a great cataclysm pulled free many thousands of years ago. It is where an advanced civilization which calls itself the Ultima, heirs to Drowned Atlantis, has taken refuge to find tranquility, peace, understanding and a great many more fine, positive words. Your mother had powers even greater than yours. Or mine."

 

Chandler turned to look at his sundered desk, his eyes blazing with blue light as the air thrummed. Before Robin's eyes, the table neatly rebuilt itself, until not even fragments could be seen.

 

"Our mastery of the vril makes us faster, stronger, nearly immortal. But such as your mother could enclose that power entirely within herself, and be as any other human..."

 

There was a heavy silence. Chandler hesitated, steeled himself, and spoke again.

 

"I can help you uncover more about your gifts. Will you allow it?"

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Robin blinked, taking another hasty step back, her hands coming up defensively as she dropped into a coiled stance at the sudden light. Her gaze shot from the desk to the doctor, back and forth, as she clearly weighed how much she was willing to trust him and take him at as word. The silence grew for a long moment before her jaw firmed. 

 

"I'm not sure I believe you," she said bluntly but she rose out of her tight, tense posture; shoulders straight and carriage proud, "But if you can help me figure out why I can do what I do and know what that's going to mean, I'm willing to give it a shot, yes." Robin forced her shoulders to relax at least a little. It was clear that the tense teen was struggling between a desire to hear more of a mother lost too soon and the distrust of a teenager who had been misled before. Her grey eyed gaze cut away, towards the door to the office, "But I don't think Mom misled me. If she didn't tell me things, it was because she didn't think I was old enough or ready or whatever. If what you're saying is true, she'd have told me; she just wasn't given the time..." Pausing then, her thoughts collected, Robin gave a short, sharp shake of her head, "No, it's not possible she had abilities. She'd have had no problems with a mugger if she was strong or fast like me. They wouldn't have been shot."

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  • 2 weeks later...

GM

 

"Well, you knew her better than I did." Chandler coughed awkwardly and visibly cast about for a way out of the extremely tense conversation, his eyes suddenly lighting on the cubed tablet on the floor "Speaking of...segues, I really think we can dispense with the rest of the interview. Dr. Marquez can do a great deal with very little, and even with a mental link I doubt someone like me is what you need."

 

Standing up, Xan-Jak's eyes once again shone, the debris in the room silently reintegrating around him. "With any luck, our lessons can begin within the month. Need to clear out my schedule. Of course, Headmistress Summers is leery of outsiders trying to teach "her" charges, unless I want to end up at the bottom of North Bay a social call is in order." Watching a coffee cup piece itself together, Chandler ran a hand over his bald head and muttered "Really should not have gotten in the habit of...nudging people. So much easier than actually empathizing with and understanding, but it's 'byss to rely on psionics."

 

The air tingled with the discharge of energy long after the glow of vril had faded from the reconstituting wreckage, a sensation at once coldly alien and familiar, like a long-forgotten song.

 

Drumming his fingers on his leg, Xan-Jak added "Mz. Chevalier, I really am sorry to have brought you all this way for, well, nothing. If there's some way to redeem my wasting your precious time, merely say and it shall be done." From the somewhat anxious look in his dark eyes, the doctor was a little worried Robin would actually take advantage of the offer.

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