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Lights, Camera, Action! (IC)


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@Avenger Assembled & @Heritage:

The clown chuckled. "Oh, we didn't bother with real names, Miracle Girl. We costumed types keep that sort of thing under wraps, don't we?" He fuzzed again, becoming a blur of static, and reappeared as an Egyptian mummy wrapped head to two in crisp white bandages. A muffled guffaw emerged from beneath the bindings. "The Fanatic contacted me online, but said that they'd tracked me down after their machines had detected my unique energy signature. Something to do with the nature of my powers; I won't pretend to understand it." He tittered, and the bandages fell away. "They sent me a message on a website called Film-Fanatix.com. By the time we met, they were already armored up. You'd think I'd have cottoned on to the fact they were a bad guy, but I guess I'm just too trusting. Anyway, they didn't start off as a baddy. Not to me, anyway. They ran some tests, found a way to mimic and even improve on my teleportation... and then it all went south." Punchline's face soured. "Suddenly, it was all..." he fuzzed once more, taking on the hulking, red-caped form of the Fanatic. "Vengeance! And destruction! And the invasion of privacy! And stuff!" The mock-Fanatic shrugged. "I'm not sure what happened, but after we collected Ridley, they trapped me there after a long, boring monologue. You know the type." He struck a pose and boomed: "Soon, the entire world will know my power -- starting with you!"

 

@Blarghy:

The colonel nodded. "Don't worry too much, agent Warne," he said. "Like I said, AEGIS uses a completely insular system. The only way to access it is from one of our internal network nodes, and they're practically hack-proof." He furrowed his brow. "Nothing's completely safe, of course, but we have the best minds in the United States working around the clock to keep our data safe from the prying hands of... well, just about anyone, really. It took me three hours to check my email the other day. Resetting your password in this building is a bear." He waved his hand. "Go check on the others. Let them know what you've found and continue from there. I haven't received word of any trouble, so either the Fanatic is stealthier then they were in Brown's apartment or they haven't made a move here yet. Send word to my office when you decide on a course of action." Should Warne leave Chalmers' office and head towards the theater room, he will arrive just in time to see the Fanatic, clad in their homemade black armor, looming over Miracle Girl and shouting: "Soon, the entire world will know my power -- starting with you!"

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Unconvinced and still worried, Adept muttered to himself as he raced down the hallways again.  "Damn computers...damn internet...damn engineers..."

 

When he arrived at the theater, those burdens vanished in a flash.  He entered the room to see a familiar face and hear the same voice that taunted him back at the apartment.  When Warne agreed with Chalmers that the theater might offer their enemy a route to attack the rest of the team, he considered it more as a vague possibility, not a real threat.  And yet here this villain stood, not a phantom on the screen or just disembodied words, but in the flesh, bearing down on a civilian, albeit one with exceptional powers. 

 

Warne's brain lit up, and without hesitation, he did what he did best. 

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@Avenger Assembled, @Blarghy, & @Heritage:

Adept's psionic assault slammed into the mock-Fanatic like a freight train on pneumatic steroids, throwing him through the air to impact the wall on the far side of the room with a bone-shattering crunch. He slumped to the floor, limp-framed and loopy, while a quintet of tweeting canaries encircle his head. Possessing only enough presence of mind to reach up and remove the helmet, revealing his colorful features, he gasped: "Candygram for Mongo!" before pitching forward and crumpling to a heap on the ground. On screen, an astronaut was being mauled by a slavering, beetle-black monster... but that didn't seem so interesting now that a secret agent with telekinesis was blasting an armored clown around a theater with the power of his mind. His consciousness having gone the way of the dodo, the Fanatic 'costume' Punchline had been wearing disappeared in a fuzz of static.

Edited by Sophistemon
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Aquaria gave an outraged croak, leaping down from the ceiling where she'd jumped to interpose herself between Punchline and Adept. "How dare you!" she bellowed angrily, her voice a deep, booming bass that through her armor's vocoder didn't sound human at all. "He is an innocent creature from another place taking a disguise!" The idea of a creature of chaotic shape being attacked for that chaos struck her as deeply unseemly and fundamentally wrong, anger giving her surprise a particular edge. "We rescued him from that alien world - and he spoke to us of our dread enemy!" she added, gesturing wildly at the screen with her free hand. "Miracle Girl, is he well?"

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Warne's initial reaction was a grin both cruel and triumphant in equal measures.  This guy wasn't so tough out in the open, without gadgets to blow up!  But then Aquaria responded quite negatively, and their "enemy" suddenly changed.  Warne stared, his lips drooping back down in confusion.

 

"...What?" he asked numbly.  He took a short step forward.  "He's...the kidnapper is a clown?"

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Casey listened attentively as Punchline related his story; clearly he was a strange individual, but she could sympathize with his trusting nature, and felt bad that he was betrayed by someone he thought was a kindred soul. She was laughing at his dead-on impression of their kidnapper when suddenly the AEGIS agent hit him like a freight train!

 

Casey flew over to the unconscious toon's side to check his vitals. "He's not our guy, Agent! This is Punchline, he's a...weird cartoon clown we rescued from inside one of the movies. But he does know our perp; he calls himself the Fanatic. They exchanged some tech knowledge, which the Fanatic used to trap him in the movie before he kidnapped our fictional victims." She checked for pulse, pupil dilation and breathing on the hapless clown, though she wasn't sure if he still had any of those things.

Edited by Heritage
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@Avenger Assembled, @Blarghy, & @Heritage:

One of Punchline's slightly luminescent eyes opened, slowly, and then the other. They blinked, then focused in on Miracle Girl's angelic features. "But mommy," he groaned. "I don't want to go to school today!" He moved to stand and the room was filled with a series of wet pops which, the other soon realized, were the clown's bones popping back into place after being knocked about by the telekinetic blast. He cracked his own neck and tittered. "Did anybody get the numbers off that bus?" he asked. "I tell you, I haven't taken a wallop like that since the elevator in my building went out and I took the alleyway express." He turned and saw Adept, the appearance of whom caused his red, red lips to split in a wide grin. "You've got the mind-whammy!" he exclaimed. "I wish I had the mind-whammy. All I've got is this lame invulnerability and my irresistible personality!" He chortled, then slapped his own knee. After regaining his composure, he pulled back his left sleeve to reveal a pale, hairless arm absolutely bedecked in various wristwatches, all of which displayed the wrong time. He glanced at them, then frowned. "How long was I out?"

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...Not long enough, Warne thought nastily.  His guilt dwindled to a minimum, now that no harm seemed to be done (which he filed away for future reference, just in case harm ever needed to be done).  He had known this clown for maybe a full minute, and the guy already grated on his nerves.  Even so, Miracle Girl's summary meant that he might be useful to the investigation; they were badly in need of more leads, so Warne would take what they could get. 

 

"You know the...Fanatic?  What's his plan?  Can you help us find him?"  If they could strike now, instead of waiting for the ransom drop, then they stood a better chance of avoiding whatever dimensional rifts might develop from pulling these movie characters out of their proper world.

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Aquaria retreated to a nearby wall, scuttling up and clinging to the tiles with the sticky pads on her hands and feet, as she listened to the others converse. "The gods lie between the worlds," she croaked seriously. "You must be mindful you do not catch their terrible eyes when you travel there." She scuttled along the wall and cocked her head - then lashed out with a two-foot tongue as green and white as what could be seen of her skin beneath tattoos and armor. Snatching up a bit of her and Miracle Girl's lunch, she swallowed it whole and began chewing the meat with soft wet bites, watching everyone else with her huge black and gold eyes. 

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@Avenger Assembled, @Blarghy, & @Heritage:

Punchline quirked his head to look at Adept. His eyes flared a bit, and then he smiled. "Tough crowd, aren't you?" he asked. "All business, no pleasure. Your wife must be thrilled." He chortled, than reached up and massaged his battered body. "Oy! But do you pack a punch-and-a-half!" He took a stand and made a pirouette, his arms outstretched to catch the air, before speaking. "They weren't all bad," explained the clown. "Not at first, anyway. Sure, they were a little intense -- but who isn't when it comes to a hobby that you love? This Fanatic freak-show, they love movies. They don't just like movies, no. They don't call themselves 'the Aficionado,' they're 'the Fanatic,' and I got the barest hint of a whisper of a feeling that they were personally offended by the reboots coming out. They'd talk my ears off for hours about how Hollywood's a bunch of brainless corporate goons without a shred of originality left. On and on they went -- it almost drove me crazy!" He cackled madly, eyes flashing, and then gasped air. "But that's beside the point. They told me, once they had the stars, they'd make the people responsible pay for..." The clown shrugged. "Tarnishing the memory, I guess. It's like nostalgia gone sour." He took a seat in one of the chairs and looked up at the screen, still playing the movie. "They mean something to us, sometimes. Something special. They let us escape, and I guess the Fanatic can't deal with someone trying to catch that lightning in another bottle." He looked back at Adept. "The Fanatic was able to recreate my 'jumping' power to get inside the movies. He made a machine... like a projector that makes a door. If you can do what he did and recreate my signal, maybe you can trace it?"

 

Then, Aquaria's tongue lashed out, snared a bit of lunch-meat, and retracted back into her mouth. Punchline watched the show with rapt amazement, then crossed his arms and frowned. "How come everyone else got the cool powers?"

Edited by Sophistemon
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"So you said before that you actually met the Fanatic," Casey inquired. "Did you meet him in an actual real place in our world, or did you meet inside the movie world? Did the Fanatic let anything slip about their real identity? Like, where they worked or went to school, or any mention of family?"

 

Somehow they had to find out who the Fanatic really was; not only to find out where they were hiding, but also to come up with some sort of angle or leverage that could maybe be used against them.

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After a shudder in Aquaria's general direction, Warne considered this new information in light of his preexisting suspicions.  It all tied very well into his missing suspect, Gabby Brown.  Gender might be an issue, but the Fanatic could mask or mislead that easily enough, given their costume.  Or failing that, maybe they were dealing with Brown's father, who, according to the pictures Warne saw, might have an even closer connection to these films. 

 

Miracle Girl asked most of the questions that he might voice, so he waited to hear her answers rather than struggle through conversation with the clown.  If the Fanatic was relying on Punchline's abilities, then Warne agreed with him that tracing his signal could be their answer.  Of course, this being AEGIS, the scientists could be more invasive than he expected.

 

Do we still do unofficial dissections?  If not, who do I have to talk to about making an exception?

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Punchline tittered. "Well, sure we met in the real world," he gushed. "We talked a bit online first -- or, I mean, Bob did -- but then we had to meet." He quirked his head at Warne, then winked. "They had such cool ideas, how could I resist getting to know them?" He chuckled, then drew up his legs so that his knees were pressed into his chest. "Like I said, we met online. The Fanatic messaged me after I made a few posts about these reboots they're making in Hollywood." He sighed. "I'm not really down with reboots, and remakes, and requels and premakes and all that. Movies are art, and tracing is lazy." He laughed, flashing teeth. "So I let my feelings get the better of me and wrote some things in bad taste." He turned back, looking at Miracle Girl, and his face fell. "That's when the Fanatic got in touch and asked me if I really meant what I said. I told them, 'No, not really, I was only joking,' but by then they knew who I was." The clown crossed himself. "Even then, they could look through the screen, and they had an idea of what I could do. I just made the mistake of getting their attention." The smile returned, subdued. "But then they told me what they wanted, and how I could help. I mean, honestly: would you turn down a chance to meet your childhood heroes? I couldn't resist. So I signed up, and we met in person, and the rest is... history. Or the present. Or even the future!" He turned in his seat and faced the group. "We met at their place, underground. Big, big room will all kinds of gizmos on the walls and screens hanging up all over the place tuned to different cameras. From down there, they could see the whole world if they wanted. But they were friendly, even through that black metal mask." The frown was back, exaggerated. "No family. No photos that I could see. I get the feeling the Fanatic's a very lonely person."

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Casey caught Punchline's reference to 'Bob', presumably his real (or was that former?) name; clearly he thought of them as being separate people, which made a certain amount of sense. He couldn't be a cartoon clown all the time; he must have a day job, family and friends like most other heroes. Or did he? Somehow she had a feeling that 'Bob' might be just as lonely as the Fanatic, in his own way. Anyway, back to the business at hand. 

 

"Can you give us an idea of the layout? Like, draw it or make a model out of something?" She didn't understand exactly how his powers worked, but he did seem to have some sort of limited reality-warping powers, which made sense; she thought back to Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and The Mask as examples of what a living 'toon' might be capable of achieving.

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Punchline looked at Adept and nodded his head. "Oh, sure! We hung out for hours that first time, just talking movies. It was great -- they didn't take the armor off the entire time, though, which must have been really itchy. 'Course, I stayed me the entire time, too, so who am I to judge?" The clown was suddenly cloaked in a regal black robe, and his hair turned white and flowed down to his shoulders in carefully oiled rolls before everything reverted -- with a buzz of static -- a moment later. He giggled. "It's somewhere here in the city... I think. We bounced around a lot, took a right turn at Albuquerque, but I'd know the smell of Freedom anywhere -- hot dogs and electric cars." He tapped his nose, grinned, and continued while turning to look at Miracle Girl. "It was big, wider around than it was tall. Lots of monitors and screens and computers, like I said. Most of it looked... second-hand. Gently-used, you know? The Fanatic was short on funding; that's why they needed me to make a short-cut. They piggy-backed on my signal to get to Movieland." He reached into his back pocket, a flap of fabric that may or may not have even existed a moment before, and withdrew a tiny scale cut-away model of the Fanatic's underground lair -- at least as he remembered it. "It's all in here, you see?" He pointed to the walls. "See those monitors? That's where they watch, uh, everything. And over here's where they keep the prisoners!" He moved his hand, a gloved finger gently touching a line of cells built into a corner.

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Aquaria chewed and swallowed the meat, croaking "I am not from the Surface," before she went back to listening to the conversation. She was no mutant with strange powers, after all, when you removed her from her suit she was (she knew) a fairly typical female of her breed, though a better hunter and tracker than many of her less sea-wise sisters and brothers. When she thought she understood the words and deeds of her fellows, she croaked, "What if we divide? Some meet the Fanatic, others swim down to his lair and release his prisoners." She wasn't entirely sure yet what their enemy had taken hostage - but if he was holding creatures from the other realms, even from the creatures spawned by the small dreams of Surfacers, their freedom was especially paramount. Punchline's memories met with her approval, even if she had to think hard to summon images to go with his strange words. "I am no diplomat. But I know snares and traps."

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Adept nodded toward Aquaria--although with his eyes averted, given that the Deep One still creeped him out.  An impressive feat, given the things he had seen during past missions.  "A dual-prong approach could work, yes.  But first, we need to find the Fanatic."

 

He went to Punchline and took a look at the rough map.  "Useful," he grudgingly admitted, "but less so than the lair's location.  You don't remember anything more specific than 'in Freedom City'?  No starting places, no general districts, nothing to narrow it down?" 

 

We know this place would need a lot of electricity, so that helps.  Between that and the general layout, maybe we can run it through our files and see if any similarities match.  Subterranean buildings of this size are probably more common around here than elsewhere, given that the damned villains just love them, but even so.  Just a place to start looking, that's more than we have now.  But before we go searching, we would need a way to keep from being spotted well in advance.  What would the Fanatic do to the hostages if they know we're closing in?  Just how desperate are they?

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The pugnacious Punchline quirked an eyebrow at Warne. "Aren't you some sorta de-tec-tive?" he inquired, his voice rising to an irritating pitch to punctuate the question. "Do I have'ta do everything?" He tossed the model into the air, opened his mouth -- pearly white teeth glistening wetly -- and swallowed it whole, so that his throat bulged obscenely when the model's edges pressed against the interior of his throat. He belched, softly, and tittered. "It's somewhere in the residential areas, I remember that much. I don't really do addresses. I go where I want, when I want." He arced a thumb at his chest, which swelled with cartoonish pride. "That's what so great about being me! No rules to follow!" He paused, considering. "It was down and... to the left of some big house. White, with blue shutters. A sub-basement's sub-basement. Nice place, with a tasteful garden. They grow tomatoes, which I guess makes it a tasty garden, too!" He moved to laugh, but then reconsidered and stuck out his tongue. "On second thought, I hate tomatoes. Too slimy!"

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Warne thought too late to grab the map with his mind; he grimaced at losing it.  Maybe Punchline could draw a new one when the time came, but the clown seemed increasingly unreliable.  He grated powerfully on Warne's already-paper-thin nerves; evil people, he could deal with.  He could hate them.  This guy?  He annoyed Warne, and somehow that was much worse. 

 

"...Alright then," he said through gritted teeth.  The agent spun on his heel and marched to the nearest other AEGIS personnel.  "Did you get all that?  We need to run it through our systems.  Go to Colonel Chalmers first; let him know what has developed, and make sure he says that our electronics are secure before we rely on them for this particular project.  The last thing we need is to alert the Fanatic and have him lead us away with false data."

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Casey sighed as Punchline swallowed the model; the Roger Rabbit comparison seemed to be increasingly apt, and their own Eddie Valiant was about to have steam coming out of his ears. "I might be able to help with the search, Agent Warne; my super-speed makes me very good at sorting through a lot of data quickly. And I agree, a two pronged attack may be our best option."

 

The toon might not always be completely reliable, but she could try her darndest take up the slack.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The nearest AEGIS agent was the projectionist, and he swallowed loudly when Warne stomped into the booth, mildly red-faced with irritation following his interaction with the plasticine Punchline. The man stood, his back straight as a pole, and saluted after receiving his orders before turning smartly on his heel. He raced down the winding, labyrinthine hallways of the building until he found Colonel Chalmers, still in his office, attempting to make his way through a towering pile of paperwork. After reciting Warne's message verbatim -- to terrified of the man to do any less, after having seen him fling the clown into a wall with enough force to shatter bones -- he is dismissed, and makes his way back, not to the viewing room, but to his previous assignment.

 

Time passes. Minutes go by, then an hour, before Chalmer's voice (gruff and heavy, like the man himself) booms through the intercom. "Agent Warne," he says. "Miracle Girl, Sea Devil, and... Clown-Man. I've passed the information you've gathered on to our boys in the back. I wanted to make sure, before we ran a scan of the city, that this Fanatic character wasn't in our systems. I'm happy to say, our sweeps don't show any evidence of outsider interference in the AEGIS computers. The scan will start momentarily, and I just want to thank you for your hard work. I know this isn't exactly what I'd call a normal assignment, what with the fictitious nature of the victims, and I appreciate you taking it seriously. Mostly seriously. With some seriousness. Why don't you come to the briefing room while the scan's being run? We'll arrange for some food, and you can rest up before your engagement with the Fanatic."

 

Time passes. Hours pass while satellites sweep the city for a residence matching Punchline's description, one that also shows signs of subterranean construction. Food is brought, a cornucopia feast of take-out Chinese, pizza, Mexican and cheeseburgers. Punchline himself partakes of the latter-most, unwrapping a Beefy Burger and scarfing it down in two large, cheek-bulging bites. He seems a creature of Id, the clown, mostly obsessed with his own amusement and base desires. It's good to know, if perhaps not exactly comforting, that he's on the side of the angels. While they eat, Warne broods. Miracle Girl checks her social media. Sea Devil smells faintly of brine, and Punchline is content enough to leave the others alone. He appears to realize that he's out of his depth and, besides the sounds of eating, doesn't speak unless spoken to, a type of miracle if ever there was such a thing.

 

Time passes. The scan completes, and Colonel Chalmers himself enters the briefing room with another manila envelope full of pictures, which he places on the table atop an empty pizza box. "We've got it," he says.

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Warne's head shot up; he had been dozing on the table, and a flyer from the Chinese takeout stuck to his cheek as he groggily processed this news.  It perked him up soon enough; now the hunt was back on! 

 

He stood from his chair and smoothed the wrinkles from his black formal jacket.  "Are we cleared to go, then, sir?" the agent asked.  "Did reconnaissance learn anything useful that we should know?"

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Aquaria had disappeared for a while to have a semi-audible conversation with her roommate - it seemed (from what the others had overheard) that someone named Baxter had "eaten the sardines and vomited it everywhere" but now that was done and she was back on the team making plans. "I am ready to find the Fanatic's lair," she croaked to the others, trusting the Surfacers to lead the way on this strange voyage." In her armor, she crouched by the table near Warne, her long limbs and short torso giving her a strange posture as she leaned over the steel table. "Let us begin!

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Casey's eyes had gone wide at the sight of the veritable feast laid out for them, and she had a little bit of everything, feeling only slightly guilty stuffing her face on the taxpayer's dime; besides if it wasn't eaten, they'd probably just throw it away, right?

 

After feeding the power-hungry furnace in her belly, the blonde powerhouse checked her email, Twitter, Facebook and Instagram accounts, checked the sites for New Jersey Girl Scouts and her various church groups for any new or upcoming events, did some research for a few homework assignments and then played some games; with super-speed and a several hours on your hands, you could get a lot done.

 

When Colonel Chalmers finally returned, Miravle Girl leaped to her feet with excitement. "Ready and raring to go, sir!"

Edited by Heritage
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