Oregon: Hot Spring Harbor

Gravity Lad was taken back by the question. The other guards looked at each other and started discussing.

"Well obviously you would want to let the three men die. The needs of the many over the needs of the few right?" one guard announced with full confidence.

"What makes you say that? What makes their lives worth less than everybody else? One of them could have cured cancer or end world hunger or something. Those two hundred individuals could be murderers and child rapists. You can't measure shit like that."Another guard said.

The other guards started talking a little less serious and composed,"Come on Chuck, you can't talk in what-ifs." "What makes this tin can think he would know the answer more than us?" "The best answer is not to do anything at all and let God do what he intended." The entire tent was full of discussion.

Gravity Lad shook his head out of the dilemma. His commitment to being a hero was too much, he figured out the damned hypothetical and tried to figure out how to get out of the tent.

Gravity Lad was studying his surroundings. Studying Synapse's actions. He noted the cartridge missing from the rifle, and he noted the human banana peel the robot pulled out of the bag from the lab. Disgusting.

The android patched up a small tear in the get-up. It even appeared to have short brown hair and a mustache, and any one who saw a person of that skin tone probably wouldn't be able to identify it's ethnicity. The android then picked up a science fiction looking type tool and reached into the skin's "lip", appearing to be melding something in it's mouth of mechanical nature. The entire ordeal brought up more questions than it answered, and the question the machine posed still itself was not answered.

Outside, a female voice would ponder the hypothetical aloud and ultimately dismiss it with a "Feh."

Lungfish stalked threw the night, in his ... Neon.

Well it wasn't night patrols, but Lungfish er Mark Holmes was moving, relocating. The West Spring Harbor Laboratories had made him an offer that he could not refuse. Mark Holmes was going to take a job help index fish species in context of mutational situations. Lungfish was just along for the ride. The costume was stuffed into his small shoulder bag, sitting on the other seat of his rental Neon.

Into the country Lungfish drove. West Spring was a pretty idyllic location. Far away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Mark absent-mindedly hummed the theme to his Lungfish theme song that he had composed earlier.

Nanananananananana LUNGFISH LUNGFISH LUNGFISH NANANANANA nananananana LUNGFISH!

Mark's adventuring days were not behind him, the local area was known for fishing, pristine springs and a huge genetics lab out in the middle of no where far from the law ... and accountability.

Mark stopped humming the sing. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He could not afford to waste it with his 'superhero' antics. Sure he had the mystical power over lungs imbued in him by some as yet unattainable force. He was also a ichthyologist and wanted desperately to have a long and successful career in science.

"Should have been a marine biologist ... those cats get all the ladies".

He arrived in West Springs around 10 the next day, not the least bit tired. He meet with his contact, a girl intern with a lisp and a way of moving that reminded him of igor from Frankenstein, or maybe Dracula, Lugosi's Dracula. All peculiar ways of holding the head up and making eye contact. The girl cheerfully helped him sign 10 little spots on the contract and showed him the house. It was supposed to be an apartment, but the girl informed him in a melodramatic tone that the houses had gone on sale cheap so west springs genetic research labs just snapped them up.

It was huge, to a person used to living on a student, and then student teacher's salary. Inviting, warm and tastefully decorated.

The lab tour came next. Mark would be starting the next day, and although the job included some field work there was lab space. He would be working with a geneticist from the lab but they would share a lab. "My own lab" , mark thought , "wowzers."

Mark returned to his perfect small town home and start his dream job, but he just sat on the couch, looking at a blank tv. "This is too good to be true", he thought to himself, as the same tune incessantly went threw his mind. He received a phone call at 7pm that night. His commencement of work was being put off due to "unforseen technical difficulties preparing the labs" and would be put off for a week or more. The stray tune carried on in the back of his head, as he watched a blank tv, trying not to look at the shoulderbag containing his costume.

Nananananananana-nananananananaa lungfish!

Arthur brought himself down into his kitchen, a spacious and ultimately pointless room. Given the recent development of his “powers”, a conventional kitchen, and cooking conventional food, was of very little use to him. Due to unpredictable nature of his mutation, he could not eat without the food turning to gold on his lips. Just like in the Greek myths, Midas was destined to forgo his sustenance and starve. At least he would have if technology hadn’t advanced since then. He opened a wooden box with a golden latch with gloved hands, and inside laid a large golden needle. He walked over to his fridge, and pulled out a small plastic bag of a vile looking liquid. This liquid was a home-brew concoction of what the human body’s blood hypothetically needs. He had received this recipe from an acquaintance at the lab down the road. It wasn’t difficult when he introduced a bit of gold into the equation. Humans tend to do anything for the stuff. Perhaps he used to as well. He poured the contents of the bag into the injection, and stuck the needle into a vein going down his arm. He pushed down the pump, and the fluid flowed into his blood, with a bit of a sting, but it seemed to mix in fine. Arthur let out a sigh. He was missing eating already.

The laboratory facilities were temporarily restricted to all non-government officials due to the nature of the event that occurred there (also idk if Behemoth is still there or if he wants to be or what's up with that). A small squad of police officers convened in the lab once more, in search of the alleged murderer, who may have understandably made shelter within the restricted area. The small town's police force was stretched thin given the death of some officers with the rest scouring the seas and mountains.

Detectives Cage and Rand would spearhead the investigation, but they stumbled upon nothing they already knew. Exasperated, the officers departed once more, though they kept the area cut off with a police barricade. One of the ones made of tape.

"Empathize," Agent corrected the officer distractedly.

"A hermit you say? If one lives here, wouldn't he be trespassing? Or would that be squatting?" 58664 questions while wadding slowly into the pool. "I wonder if these pools are special to him," Agent remarked as he observed the birds more closely.

"I don't think it'd be useful to go back down, that pool didn't yield many results.

Spoiler:

"The rules are...different. Different for him." Detective Romanoff replied.

"And I was thinking you'd come with us down to the station." Lt. Danvers demanded. "Please, just don't make this harder than it has to be."

58664 looked at the officer quizzically. "Oh, nothing's going to be difficult, " he reassured (him/her). The probability that these people would be able to keep him was minimal; after all, 58664 was well versed in the finer points of He steps out of the stealth and could hide in plain sight, even while being observed. Add to that that it was night and 58664 did not feel worried in the slightest.

He groaned as he sat down. "Why don't you tell me everything you know about this hermit person?" 58664 asked. "It always pays to be informed, after all."
He motioned to a likely place to sit, "why don't you have a seat over there and rest your weary legs a while? I know mine could use it," he guffawed.

Growing frustrated, the Lieutenant changed her tone audibly. "Why don't you have a seat in the back of the police cruiser?" Noting the man was armed, she withdrew her pistol and brandished it threateningly.

The detective remained strangely quiet, and all the while the massive flock birds continued being privy to the situation. What's a group of birds of prey even called?

58664 chuckled. He was feeling light-headed and currently gave no fucks.

"Now, now, kiddo. Is it really standard procedure to draw your weapon when someone offers you a seat and asks you for information about some madman in the woods? besides... what are you looking at, kid B? Those birds bothering you?"

Visibly angry and probably sleep deprived, Danvers' finger slipped and a bullet emerged from the gun, grazing the elder's cheek.

"Fucking shit! Look what you made me do! Just shut up and come quietly!" Words rolled over her lips as tactfully and gracefully as something that is neither of those things. She then began to cite the Miranda warning.

Some of the birds fluttered their wings in response to the the gunshot, but quickly calmed down. One of them, one in the front row, flew off into the distance in the same direction the original bird flew off to. Could it be the same bird?

Lungfish went to bed early. The next morning reading the paper in his all too perfect home, he noticed only a small article on false alarms and technical delays in the Hot Spring Harbour labs.

The day passed slowly. Lungfish eventually got to the point of turning on a tv, and watching that show. You know that show about nothing that is cleverly supposed to be about the human condition but mostly misses the mark and in actually is about nothing. That one.

He watched a good 3 of them.

In the afternoon he went shopping, scouting the local area. Kitschy restaurants check, bait and tackle shop check, barber shop check, multi-billion dollar research facility check. He bought some home essentials from the big box store a town over. When Lungfish got home, he discovered they were not very essential.

The time wore on , like the tread under a pacing person.

He prepared the last meal of the day and watched the news. Local man grows big pumpkin at 6, local politician what a good old boy at 6:15 local good old boy turned state politician at 6:30 State governor from this area caught with thai lady boy at 6:45.

Lungfish prepared for bed, and turned in for 4 mins.

The longest 4 minutes of the day, before creeping out. Going to the ground level and getting his costume. Slipping into the good headdress and gloves and wraps and slipping out into the night.

Lungfish was getting better at this. Most people wouldn't have noticed him. He stayed out of the light but not conspicuously. Lungfish walked and watched mostly. It was a small town, nothing much happening. But it was good to out. He breathed the deep refreshing air of the valley as he ended his patrol in front of the labs.

This didn't look like technical difficulties. There were police tape and structural damage everywhere. Lungfish stood there, hopefully out of surveillance camera range for a few minutes before blending back into the night like a fish back into the shoal.

When he got back home, he slept like a baby. He got a message the next morning from his boss. "Do you want to do a field project that just came up, come get the company vehicle and the equipment tomorrow and head out..."

The bullet was a perfectly believable decoy.

Feigning fear and injury, 58664 screams "BW'AH!" clutches his cheek, and acrobatically falls backwards off his rock and rolls backwards beyond the soft light illuminating the springs, imitating a man recoiling backward as best he could. Agent seems to disappear into the dim illumination at the end of his roll.

Agent hears the birds' cacophony and sees one flying off. As good a lead as any, he heads moves through shadows to a place where he can best match the bird's path, guessing that a bird would take the shortest path to its destination


Abilities used:
Bluff +15
Acrobatics +15
Stealth +15
Hide in Plain Sight

Nobody was paying attention to Gravity Lad at the time. Synapse was putting something mysterious in his mouth and everyone else was discussing the question Synapse posed. Gravity Lad looked at the rifle of mass destruction on the table. He didn't need to steal it, he just needed to break it or use it to cause a distraction.

He crept closer to it. It was highly advanced, Gravity Lad had never seen anything like it. He had a little understanding of weapons, but nothing like this. The trigger was very specifically designed to be incredibly small, as if the designer only wanted specific people to use this weapon. Synapse must have this ability. No hope for Gravity Lad to use it. There was a tube below the barrel of the rifle, as if the weapon drew its energy from there. Gravity Lad had an idea on how to get out of here. If that material was able to blow up half of a mountain, surely there must be a reaction if he.. It was dangerous, but he doubted it would be as violent as what he saw earlier.

He reached for his pocket gun he keeps in his tube socks. Only for emergencies, and never used to kill. Hopefully this works... He takes a few steps toward the entrance. He blindly fires at the tube, hoping it does something, and runs out of the tent to make a quick getaway.

The officers immediately pursued the man and searched the area, flashlights in tow. After a while, they ruled out the possibility that he was still in the immediate area. Detective Romanoff reprimanded the Lt. for firing and suggested they continue searching further up, but in protest Danvers insisted it was an accident, and that whoever lived in the expansive mountain range would be taken care of by whatever the women talked about earlier.

Meanwhile, the birds dispersed into a thick cloud of feathers, squawking loudly, almost as if they were trying to cover the first bird's trail. The first bird, meanwhile, eventually came to roost on a high up cliff face.

The soldiers snapped to attention and pursued the boy. When the boy escaped the tent, he ran past a curious woman. At first glance, like a glance one might make while running, she appeared to be a sickly green color and had dry skin. Second glance would reveal her tattered camouflage uniform, damaged yet recognizable, draconic looking wings and tail, and small blue horns poking our from under her short green hair.

what.jpg

The guards ran outside the tent chasing after Gravity Lad. He jumps once, and grabs the side of a wall of a huge building. He needed to get up fast. The further away from the guards, robots, and creepy women, the better. He always theorized it would work, he played a video game once that had these physics. Mega Man... X was it? He jumped off the wall, and jumped towards it again, this time a little higher.

He jumped off the wall, and jumped towards it again. He grabs a light fixed on the building. The guards point to it, and yell "SHOOT THE LITTLE BASTARD!" The woman stood there silently.

He pulled himself up from the light, he jumped off the wall, and jumped towards it again. So close to the roof, his safe haven. He jumped off the wall, and jumped towards it again. He grabs the ledge of the roof. Safety. He tries to pull himself up...

In the tent, Synapse completed his work on whatever horrible abomination he had been tinkering with, and unfolded the costume around him. Glancing at a conveniently placed mirror, he gave his new skin a quick look over and approved of the job he did. Very acceptable. He then donned some clothes he had prior acquired, maybe he sewed them or bought them at Banana Republic or something. Again, looking over his transformation in a mirror, he confirmed his hypothesis that his fashion sense was top notch. Your tax dollars at work, baby. He holstered the gun, which had taken minimal damage, and walked outside, deciding he might as well check out what was going on before continuing his investigations.

Stopping short when the boy performed an impossible stunt, the men all looked up in awe. The strange, reptilian looking woman hissed with disappointment as she unfolded her wings and glided towards the boy, helping him up onto the roof and helping him regain his footing. The woman appeared to be wearing anklets and bracelets bade of broken shackles. She stated the following:
"My name is Colonel Agatha Laurence of the United States Air Force, and you, my tiny, nimble friend are tresspassing. What does the boy scout have to say before I have you interned?"

A flock of bird soon began flying in chaotic patterns.
'Must be returning to their nests' theorized 58664 as he did his best to bee-line after a bird he had seen take off in the dark. Tracking was one thing, but without tracks, there was no telling where he would end up.

Another low gurgling noise came from the direction the first bird had flown in, distinct of the screeching and rustling of jimmies feathers. A craggy rock face would defy most attempts any human made to scale it, however.

Gravity Lad looked at her. He can't really jump his way out of this. She'd just fly to him.

"That America must be proud of itself for attempting to imprison a young man trying to do what's right."

He stood for a second and saw a door leading to a staircase to the other floors of the building.That's his getaway. He looked at the woman.

"Oh, and dodge this." He took the gun and aimed at one of her wings. It probably didn't do any damage, but it probably pissed her off enough to follow him inside. He jumped through the door, breaking it and landing on his feet. It's time to run.

The soldiers on the ground discussed the situation among themselves. "Oh, he's dealing with Dragonbreath? That kid is toast." one muttered. Another spoke "Well shit, I almost feel bad that fanatical little kid." "Okay, nothing to see here, guys, move it along people, let's go back to protecting the free world..." dictated Captain Barbrady as he ushered the soldiers away from the building.

Meanwhile, Col. Laurence was pissed right the fuck off, and she glided down the stairwell after him, hissing threats all the while. "You'll pay for that, you little shit!"

Gravity Lad chuckled. It's this kind of excitement he lives for. He jumped down a set of stair steps and entered the door. It was a long hallway with very small windows. That's not good. Gravity Lad ran down the hall with the dragon lady following him the entire time.

How do you defeat a giant lizard? How do you get the hell out of this building? He pulled the fire alarm. Water poured from the sprinklers on the ceiling. Let's do this.

Agent came up against a sheer rock-face. The rocks seemed to become more manageable some 30ft up, but the issue was getting there in the first place.
There were DarkForce options, of course, but the detrimental effects the powers were having on his body were worrisome.
Welp, nothing to do about it. Agent would have to borrow someone's ladder.

Back to town he went, looking for a hardware store.

The lizard woman paused as the water rained overhead. The rain drops broke her focus fora split second and caused her to lose her balance, which is important when gliding. She stumbled over her self and continued on foot, folding her wings. her shackles clanging loudly around her ankles and wrists, growing louder and louder as she caught up to the boy. Cornering him and drenched, she snapped: "Who the fuck do you think you are? The only thing keeping me from killing you is the fucking law, and it bends real easy. I've had enough of this shit for twenty lifetimes, you tiny faggot."

Meanwhile, the hardware store as closed because it was night time and because of a superstitious town.