Oregon: Hot Spring Harbor

The flock, a bit worse for wear and a wee bit confused, began flying more chaotically. Some collided with each other and fell to the ground, unfortunately. The others were luckier.

Looking up at the man now clinging to the face of the mountain above him, the creature returned to his beloved flock and dismissed them with an arm wave and a low, steady rumbling noise. All but a few remained, giving the creature a sort of comfort, knowing that his feathered friends had his back. He repeated the motion, insisting that they leave, to meet the save result. After about eight or so attempts he had a smaller group of nine birds of prey remaining, excluding the one that perched on his shoulder.

Looking back up, the monster made a massive leap with his ridiculously muscular legs, pushing off the rocky platform immediately outside of his cave. He made a swatting motion at the man. On a closer inspection, there appeared a long healed scar on his left arm (your right) and something tattooed on his neck.

If successful:

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If unsuccessful:

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Gravity Lad knodded. "I worked for a lab company back in Eagleopolis. I'm a little young, but I was eager for the job and was smart enough to make a lot of progress in my schooling. I kept some of the lab materials on the side, as my compensation. No credit, no pay, just equipment. I used it for experiments. One in particular came from me trying to... Well I don't feel comfortable describing what I was building, but what I can tell you was that it changed me. I don't know how, I don't know why. It's something inside me."

Gravity Lad looked around at the soldiers, he became an unofficial enemy of the state. Was being hated by Uncle Sam what Gravity Lad wanted? No, but it happened, and he can't go back in time to change it.

"I can essentially use a kinetic burst of energy using my feet. It's not like a literal jump; that's me pushing off the ground. The energy I use for my second jump is just that, latent energy manifested. I don't know how I do it. It might be psychic or something. I'm not sure."

Gravity Lad was pale. He needed to get help. Not here. He just needed to leave.

" I need to get out of here as fast and as safe as possible, but that gun needs to be destroyed. You can build something else, I don't care. I just can't forgive myself if I walk off this base knowing that gun is here. Call me a hypocrite, call me anything you want. Just do it. Especially after that lady lizard over there tried to pick a fight with me. I'll leave. Believe me, I don't want to be here any longer."

Saho, while insane, odd, obsessive, paranoid, and a mess of other bad things was not particularly cruel. Yes, he could act and bluff, but deep down he didn't particularly like hurting others. No....what IS a delicate trigger though is the idea that someone else is smarter than him.

"Oh please. I'm good enough to figure it all out like this, you REALLY think I don't who she was? Luckily for you all my employer wants is a nice, power-dampening, radiation absorbing suit. All I want is everything in that bag to be gold. Do this, and you probably will never hear from me again. You know, unless I suddenly get really greedy. Now, here is the information you're gonna need as well as where to deliver the suit, once you've finished. Ever hear of Orchid Island? Yeah. There. When the suit is ours and everything is a-ok, your 24-karot blowup doll will be too. See, aren't I nice?"

"You sure are Saho, you're the bestest!"

"I know, right??! Oh, and Artie, relax. Believe me, there is nobody on Earth smart enough to figure you out besides me. You were pre-tttttyyy careful; even I had some trouble..." Saho boasted proudly

"Feel free to send my figs to the same address. Oh, if it's all the same to you I think I'll keep track of your cellphone number, Facebook status, and Tumblr page! You know...just in case all that glitters really isn't gold. Oh daddy~ this is the best sweet 16 EVER! I luv u so much~" Saho gleefully hopped up and down like the teenage girl he was pretending to be. Thinking his business finished and feeling rather proud of himself; he turned and went back the way he came, skipping and going "Lalalalala~".

"What, you gonna cry and bitch and moan every time someone does something you don't like, huh faggot?"
"Yeah, if you're so great why the fuck don't you go out and do something with it?"
"Guys, lay off him...he's just a kid..."
"I don't remember age being an excuse for being a douchebag."

The soldiers discussed whether or not the little lad sucked, and if he did, by how much. All the while, the man approached the boy and rested a hand against his shoulder, noting the shoulder was slightly cooler than the machine's hand. Peculiar. Still, the mustachioed man spoke in the same lifeless voice.

"If you insist, the weapon will not remain here, and neither will you." With that, he holstered the weapon and continued.

"No, your ability is...unique. I will have to...study you. Not here. Some of the Harbor's facilities remain undamaged. With your approval, I will take you there."

If the boy gave approval:

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If not:

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Andrews, gritted his teeth, knowing there was next to nothing he could do to stop the eccentric man from leaving, and was left with no choice but to allow him to exit his house.

Gravity Lad stood silent. Study him? He didn't like that word. Then again, Gravity Lad owes his life to this man, without him he'd probably be dead. He also gave his word about the gun. Not too sure how good that word is though.

"S...Sure." Gravity Lad was scared. He had to be ready.

"Excellent young man. Now, follow me to the secure vehicle in which we will ride in."

"All right." Gravity Lad looked at the guards. He considered saying something funny, or witty to rub it in their faces that he defeated a metahuman by himself. He thought against it. He took the harassment as the disguised Synapse took him to the unknown future.

As the two made their way back t the lab, the man grilled the child for information:
Tell me in detail what experiment you were performing when you gained your powers.
What chemicals did you use?
In what quantities?
What facility in Eagleopolis did you work in?
Under whose supervision? Was the lab accredited?
Was it the university?
Why was your power only localized to the bottom half of your body?
Were you present at the Eagleopolis disasters?
What role did you play?

The man gave Gravity Lad some painkillers and disinfected the stab wound. It was all bandaged up but Gravity Lad was half conscious when he heard these questions flung at him.

"Look, I appreciate this sudden interest in me man. Let me give you some advice: that disguise? It doesn't work. I didn't want to tell you in front of everybody. Can robots get embarassed? You talk too much like one to blend in. The mustache is nice though."

He looked outside. As if he was preparing to answer the questions he wanted to answer.

"I wasn't in Eagleopolis during the disaster. My mother was. I was out of town. I came back to find her... A lot like I found my father. I tried this super-hero gig over there and it didn't work out. I got reckless. Big surprise right?" Gravity Lad was done talking. He just kept looking out at the world passing by as Synapse asked more questions.

Synapse pondered the boy's responses, though he did not seem particularly inclined to reveal them. However, if this not did have some meta-human quality, why wasn't it showing up on the scanners built specifically to find them? Were they flawed? Were his creators as flawed as his inefficient devices? How much of his body would be essentially obsolete? Was there more to Project Synapse than his creator lead on? Those questions would have to wait for later, until the meta-human population was under control, at least, and the world was in peace and prosperity. Hm.

He then considered what modification he could make to his voice synthesizer. Perhaps an accent would disguise him more easily. Peculiar how a mere boy saw through the ruse, but clearly this boy was somewhat above average.

Eventually, the duo reached the lab facility, and Synapse lead him around the police barricade, informing the police on the premises that he was with the army and his business there was benign.

In actuality, only one of the buildings had sustained any extensive damage, and it was the newest. No worry, he had no use for that facility anyway. He led the boy to a room that resembled a clinic and took a blood sample from him, and began performing some procedures with nearby equipment. I won't go into detail because that's boring. Waiting for the results, the incognito android asked again if the boy had any interest in telling him if he remembered what sort of chemicals he used, in what state of matter and in what quantities.

Seeing the attack come, 58664 crossed his arms for protection (uninjured arm first).

Thankfully, the rocks had more penetrating power, now it only felt like he's been hit with a bar-stool.

58664 was knocked unto the platform with a loud crack. The stone took the worse of it.

He saw the beast bearing down on him and flew off with a kick. He tried shooting the platform with both guns, but his doubly-injured arm spasm-ed and dropped the gun into the forest below.
He could only fire one gun at the platform as he kept his other arm in the least painful position he could.

The creature jumped back as he lost his footing with the platform being destroyed from underneath him. Clinging to his den's entrance and hoisting himself inside, trying to seal the entrance with a large boulder inside.

Seeing the entrance sealed, Agent pauses to think for a moment.

He zooms to the spa, takes some paper and a pen, writes down the following message: "Hopefully you'll be in a talking mood tomorrow," zooms back to the mountain, stuff the message in whatever place seems most likely to be notice, zooms back to where he saw his gun drop, and drops his power.

Dropping powers was always the worst, as DarkForce and natural systems switched place. Every heartbeat was a chore and purple-black bile came spewing from his mouth, contaminating the area around him,

He crawled off upwind of the mess and passed out, feeling relatively safe as most animals seemed averse to being near whatever he spewed out after using his powers to such an extent.

A single bird roosting in a tree saw the man drop away and flew off in the direction of the prior conflict, but it seemed to hang a left and fly to the mountain face's opposite side.

Sunlight began to peer through the trees, indicative of dawn.

(By popular demand:)

Agent woke up feeling the spirit of Japan in the air. His ancestors (despite Agent being whiter than Casper) had been famous samurai-ninja shoguns, and he felt their influence stirring a burning passion in his blood.

After locating his gun, Agent tied two branches to his head as camouflage.

He crept towards the Hot-springs where he could hear women giggling like Japanese school-girls.
His face flushed and his eyes turned lewd as he peaked in on the hot-springs.

Gravity Lad hated shots. They just made him feel uncomfortable. The gaze of Synapse didn't help either. It seemed like every five seconds Synapse was analyzing him. Analyzing every answer to a question, every gesture, every facial expression. Gravity Lad made the executive decision in his head not to reveal anything else to Synapse. Can this robot be trusted? Would Gravity Lad be safe?

"I don't know. I honestly don't recall. What kind of results are you looking for? What do you need to determine with the tests?" Gravity Lad asked.

Agent 58664 wrote:

(By popular demand:)

Agent woke up feeling the spirit of Japan in the air. His ancestors (despite Agent being whiter than Casper) had been famous samurai-ninja shoguns, and he felt their influence stirring a burning passion in his blood.

After locating his gun, Agent tied two branches to his head as camouflage.

He crept towards the Hot-springs where he could hear women giggling like Japanese school-girls.
His face flushed and his eyes turned lewd as he peaked in on the hot-springs.

Then the women got flustered and ran off somewhere giggling very Japanesely.

Meanwhile, at the lab, the mysterious mustachioed man took note of the boy's silence. No matter. With his superior mechanical mind, the android mapped the entirety of the boy's genome and would have to later look for inconsistencies at the base. Not the army base, base base. Meanwhile, the android decided the boy was benign enough to be put back at the town, though he sternly warned him to stay away from the base. In the event the boy eventually decided to become more compliant with giving information, the incognito automaton gave him a rather long series of numbers and instructions he could dial for contact.

Leaving the boy at the edge of the town, Synapse departed.

A few hour later, an ominous, looming silhouette appeared against the sky.

The women having run away, his ancestral spirits left him and Agent was once more in control of his own body. He threw off the ridiculous camouflage and his face adopted a less heinous expression.

His arms still sore from the abuse they'd taken the night before, 58664 was in no shape to climb sheer mountain-sides. He could fly up there, but the thought of using his powers for something so... not-life-threatening didn't sit well with him.

He wandered through the wooded area until he came upon a clearing that was easy to see from the beast's blocked cave-hole. He lit a fire and waited as the sun set.

When the sun came down and the denizens of Hot Spring Harbor were safe in their homes, the boulder slowly was pulled away from the cave. After a few moments and a running start, the beast hurled himself out of the mountain and landed on the opposite mountain side. A falcon perched on his shoulder and he began to descend into town.

58664 hears the scraping of rock from on high and sees something flying overhead... something large.

Well, if the beast wouldn't respond to social inquiries, there was no use sitting here. 58664 headed back to town, maybe he'd find lunch in a dumpster.

The creature, if anyone was watching, would be skulking around the fishing area, spearing some aquatic life with a long pike. A large net full of fish was slung over his shoulder, freshly plucked from one of the boats. His accompanying falcon was busy wresting with a trout in its talons.

A searchlight shined briefly at the falcon and quickly shied away and powered off, its respective boat docking as fast it could. It appears Commander T'challa was done searching for the night; the bird's presence along with the strange shadow, too big to be a human, told him all he needed to know for the night.

Strange how the police ignored the creature. Was it impossible for him to have been guilty of participating in the lab incident or the grisly murders?

Mark Holmes drove his Neon out of town,

It was work. Glorious Glorious field work. Mark loved field work.

Field work when you were a fish scientist consisted of a lot of fishing, and some measuring for bragging rights later .

Driving up to the mountains, Mark consulted the map he had hastily scribbled this morning and reached the first site. The call from the labs hadn't listed a reason for the ground work and Mark secretly suspected that it was mostly busy work while the labs were repaired but either way, he was as giddy as a school child.

Looking up at the mountains, Mark thought he saw something glint briefly near the top before rubbing his eyes and deciding it must be a trick of the light. Still looking he saw nothing and after a few moments he was up to his hips in waders and plunging along the creek that came from one of the higher springs.

Lost among nature Mark was the happiest he had been in a while, and except for the faint feel of Fish and other small animal lungs about him and the lingering memory that his Lungfish costume was in the neon, Mark was having a normal human ichthyologist day. For the first time in a long time he felt like himself.

Continuing his studies he checked other sites all normal until later he saw something in the creek and said to himself "What is THAT"

Andrews had finished his draft for the radiation suit. A ½ inch of rubber on the outside, 1 and a ½ inches of heavy PVC, and another inch of Teflon. It had an interior tank of oxygen, as the suit itself was completely air tight, to prevent any radioactive gases. It would be quite heavy, and uncomfortable to wear, but it couldn’t be helped. To be honest, the design was just an improved version of the standard fare. This was the usual stuff that is in these suits, just more of it.

However, there was one little device of Arthur’s invention which he prided himself on. A small square device on the front of the suit, with plenty of valves and blinking lights, designed with the intention of “canceling out” radiation. It was a draft of a prototype, but he had faith in it. The basic idea was that, assuming that the radiation was ionizing, and releasing electrons as waves, releasing sound of varying frequency, should allow the air around the suit to match the radiation’s pitch, and as such have the two waves cancel each other out. The only problem was that given the fact that the waves had to cancel perfectly, the amount of radiation had to be known, and one would need enough energy allow the machine to create a pitch greater than it. It was far from perfect, but it could be a considerable step in the radiation protection business. Constructing it shouldn’t be a problem either, given the amount of wealth available to him, and the eagerness of humans to do what they can for the shiny metal.

What he was worrying about was the second condition this suit had to fulfill. Metahuman power dampening. Arthur’s hypothesis was that while the sudden surge in metahumans must be related, he could find very few connections between the powers. However if he was going to find a connection between the powers, he would need to find a list of known metahumans, and information on them. Despite racking his brains, the only place he could think of with access to that sort of material would be highly restricted governments, and bribing them seems like it would be a difficult task. It’s hit and miss whether you’d hit a corrupt official, or one who values patriotism over monetary values.

At this rate, he might have to break into one of those buildings himself. On his table, in a rough sack, was the collection of golden figures as ‘requested” by the eccentric middleman who place the order for the suit. Andrews winced when he remembered the man. That man … some kind of insane genius Arthur reckoned. He seemed to have had everything planned through perfectly, anticipating every thought that passed Andrew’s mind. It was the first time in his career that he felt so intellectually helpless. Certainly not a man he’d want to meet again, given the choice.

However, he didn’t have the choice. This man was holding something that Andrews highly valued, and abandoning it was as good as an acceptance of failure. No, he would have to play his game, and he’d have to win it too. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d find a way.

58664 got back to town and took stock of the situation.

Why was he here again?
To get into the secret lab and access their data-files to search for any mention of powers which draw from extra-dimensional sources.

He had... acquired a guard's uniform to infiltrate the base, investigated the hot-springs area, and then had an encounter with some creature from the mountain.

The guard's ID card would likely be cancelled by now, so he chucked it. He bundled up the uniform and chucked that too; he had no where to stash his uniform.

In the dead of night, 58664 examined the perimeter, looking for a place with close access to some sort of utility entrance or something not-well guarded.

He would strike tomorrow night, but gather recon tonight.

The monster returned to its mountain home, fish in tow and relieved the man from earlier had not shown himself. Why was he there? What reason had he to attack him? He'd lived in mountains relatively undisturbed for years with only the flora and fauna to keep him company. He pondered the man's motives but dismissed them, just as they had dismissed him years ago.

Deciding that enough time had passed for it to be the next day, 58664 set about infiltrating the compound.

He would shoot a hole through any likely place (say, a fence) with his DarkForce bullets, sneak in to the territory, stay away from the brightest spots, and find his way to a door.
If it did not open, he would disintegrate the knob with his bullets again.
Presuming all this went well, he would then search for any signs of open-access terminals and/or scientists walking alone.