After several months of psychological and physical testing, interviews, and preparatory training, you arrive at the T2M training camp.

The training camp is located in the Nevada desert, roughly 50 miles from Las Vegas, on land donated by the U.S. Government.  The facility is converted from a decommissioned military base, and has been refitted with state of the art equipment.

You have been told that your training will cover a broad range of topics, including: linguistics, science, mechanics, computers, history, cultural sensitivity, combat, survival, and nova physiology & powers.

Up to this point you have been living in your normal quarters, whatever those might have been, and only visited the Utopia facilities near you (if you threw yourself on the mercy of the organization prior to this, they would have given you funds for a cheap hotel room to get by with until this point).  Now, you will be expected to live at this training facility for the next 6-9 months (with the exception of weekends, which are mostly your own) before being permanently assigned to active duty on T2M.

You have been told that you will be working with others like yourselves, but have not met any novas aside from a brief pep talk by Caestus Pax via video conference, and the scientist that worked with you during your screening process.  At this facility however, you will not only be training with other nova peers, you will have nova trainers as well.

You arrive at the base via a private flight from the Rashoud facility closest to your original location.  After disembarking from the plane onto the small airstrip, you are ushered into the nearby hangar, and then escorted to your rooms by personnel in U.N. military uniforms.  For the first day, there is little scheduled for you, as trainees will be arriving throughout the day.  It is suggested however that once you have situated yourselves, that you go to the lounge area, in which food and refreshments have been provided, to await the arrival of your new teammates.  After all of you have arrived, there will be a meeting held with the head of the facility, and you will be introduced to your trainers.

(From here, feel free to interact with one another, and create the scene as you feel is appropriate.  After everyone is done with characters, and people have had a chance to interact with one another, we will move into your meeting with your supervisors.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:09, Fri 30 Aug 2013.

After having spent all day on airplane, even without the terrible delays that might stem from layovers, Quentin was wishing that he'd developed some additional transportation abilities. Admittedly, he could fly, but not nearly as fast as any jet plane. He had spent the last hour of the flight staring off into space and trying to figure out a good way to set his powers towards faster travel in order to avoid such flights in the future. There were a number of options, but further experimentation would be required.

Once he'd been shown to his quarters, he heaved his suitcase onto the bed and simply left it there. The room was Spartan, and would probably stay that way while he was in residence. He was more interested in meeting other trainees than sitting around in his room.

He ventured back down to where he'd been told the lounge was to find that he'd been the first to arrive - something he hadn't been expecting given the distance he'd traveled. Food and drink had been set out, and so he ate a bit, though he no longer had to. He was aware that most novas developed a voracious apatite after their eruption, but no such hunger had struck Quentin. Eating was simply the polite thing to do in many situations though, so that's what he did now.

Samuel never used to have a problem saying goodbye to his family; he always knew he would come back to them someday. But for some reason, leaving to join this "Project Utopia" thing somehow felt more... permanent. It seems they felt the same way, as he almost missed his flight because of their long good-byes, and last minute life lessons.

After he boarded, he tried to occupy himself with less depressing thoughts. He began to wonder about how in the world all this could have happened. Was it fate that bolt of lighting hit him? Or was it some sort of cosmic fluke? Before he could finish this line of thought, he found that the plane had already landed. How time flies!

The complex was truly impressive indeed. He did wish he had more time to explore, but he was lead directly to his quaters, which weren't so nearly impressive as he'd hoped. It mattered little though. He could change it as he saw fit in due time. He decided to take the scenic route to the lounge, wishing to see a bit more of the complex. When he finally arrived, he found plenty of food and drink, which he happily helped himslef to. He noticed another waiting as there as well, but thought it best to eat first. Can't make a good first impression on an empty stomach!

Jason, or Impetus, as he was trying to think of himself, deplaned and walked with his security detatchment into the complex.  He made some small talk, cracked some jokes, and flirted briefly with the female soldier on point.  Instinctively he began talking about the importance of the Project, and the good it would do for people around the world.  He could see she was warming to him, and flashed her a grin and a wink when they got to his room.  "I guess this is where I'm staying?" He said, noticing a faint blush in her face.  The soldiers turned and walked down the hall, she shot him a glance as they turned the corner.  She'd be back.

He tossed his suitcase onto the top shelf of the closet, slowed its momentum too early and let it drop to the floor with a thud. He sighed and lifted it into place.  "Control and practice, control and practice" he thought to himself.  Imp then left his room and followed the signs on the walls to the lounge.  He noticed a couple other men were there before him, nodded in a friendly greeting, then went over to the concession.  The women working there, all a bit too old and cafeteria-lady looking for his tastes, complied with his request for 3 double cheesburgers, half a pound of fries and three chocolate milkshakes without even batting an eye. "There you go dearie, don't spill any of that on yourself now, you hear?" Said the senior matron with a twinkle in her eye.  Imp grinned, "Yes ma'am!" and threw her a salute.  They laughed as he walked towards the other guys, balancing his overloaded tray.
"Afternoon gents, My name's Jason..er Impetus. Pleased to meet you."

There are times when Sam wishes his sight wasn't so good. As soon as he glanced at this newcomer, he mistook him for a statue made of... copper was it? Or perhaps bronze. He chuckled despite himself. It didn't matter.

Setting his meal aside, he greeted the man. "Hi. My n-n-name is Samuel. It's a p-p-pleasure to meet you Jason."

Jessica exited the plane, standing for a second to admire the view. The facility looked impressive from here at least, all shiny and new. She whistled once, as a breeze rustled her hair. It was its normal snow white at the moment, the way she liked it. She took a few steps forward, and was about halfway over the stairs before she realized she was walking on air, and when she did, she promptly fell 10 feet, hit the stairs, and tumbled the rest of the way down, landing in a heap on the runway. Fortunately, this hurt nothing more than her pride, and she was up on her feet in seconds. Pausing only to bend the railing she had landed on back into shape, she strode over to her escort, which was trying very hard not to laugh.

She gave them a glare, daring them to repeat it to anybody, then relaxed a bit, and asked to be shown to her room. Once there, she threw her duffel on the bed and took in the empty space. Jessica shrugged, it was bigger then her old apartment, but that didn't mean much. It was a bit bright for her taste, so she unscrewed one of the lightbulbs, softening the light. Satisfied that she could work with this, Jessica left to find the lounge.

After arriving, Jessica noted the others in the lounge, and greeted them with "Morning", even though it was afternoon, for her, it was still early, and snagged some food.

"Samuel, a pleasure." Jason gave him a grin. "So, what are you in for?"

Samuel wondered the same thing. He didn't need to be here. "Because I have a... w-what did they say it was? An M-R N-Node?" He pondered this term for a moment. "I d-don't know what th-that is exactly, but it has something to do w-with this." As Samuel extended his arm, a long tenril of what seemed to be pure electricity slithered over his skin. "W-W-What about you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Mon 30 Mar 2009.

After arriving at the base via a long flight from New York, Phantasm was happy to be escorted to her rooms.  She had nothing to unpack, so she just plopped down on the bed and stretched.  Staring at the ceiling got boring after about 10 minutes however, so she decided reluctantly to get up and go see the people she would be working with.

Walking into the lounge, Phantasm looks around, waves and says "Hey, everybody" before picking up a book from the bookshelf, turning on the TV, and sitting down in front of it on one of the plush sofas lining the walls.  Looking up as though she forgot something, Phantasm quickly moves to the table to retrieve a box of donuts, and then returns to her seat, seemingly content.

"Yeah, i've got one of those too," Imp said, immediately realizing that his inner dork had swum to the surface.  "Electricity!! Cool man! That's some pretty spectacular stuff.  I can just mess around with momentum, change stuffs' direction, swap the kinetic energy of one thing with that of another, that kinda thing.  Kinda tricky though, once i stopped a truck cold and sent a nearby mailbox into the next county.  Guess I've got a lot to learn."  Imp gives a self deprecating chuckle.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:22, Mon 30 Mar 2009.

Sam is surprised by his new friend's enthusiasm for a moment, but pleased that his first real interaction with another nova is going so well. "It's n-not as spectacular as y-you might think," he laughed "it may seem rather f-f-flashy, but I can't r-realy do that m-much with it just yet. Why do you c-c-call yourself Impetus? If you d-don't mind me asking, th-that is."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:57, Mon 30 Mar 2009.

Quentin nods to each newcommer as they enter, but otherwise opts for observation unless approached. He continues to move around the room, surveying it as he appraises the other trainees. Rarely, he emmits a ripple in space. Each time he screws his odd black eyes shut and appears to take a deep breath.

After several more enter he drifts towards the other two men that are speaking. I wonder how many we're expecting, he thinks to himself as yet another arrival enters the room. "Good afternoon," he says, greeting the pair. "Quentin Abernathy," he adds, by way of introduction.

Dr. Zero enters the room, looks around, and then sits to watch TV. Although the doctor's face is hidden, the body language indicates fatigue.

Jessica gives the newcomers a glance over her cinnamon roll, noting the gas mask with a raised eyebrow. Then she makes a small, "well, whatever" type shrug. To each his own, if he could deal with wearing that, she wasn't going to say anything. Taking a last bite of her roll, she pushes her now empty plate to one side and reaches inside her leather jacket to pull out a well-worn deck of playing cards. It was old, and had clearly seen hard use, but the deck was something of her good luck charm, and she rarely went anywhere without it. She shuffled with the ease of long practice, split the cards into eight piles and began to play... Solitaire.

In reply to Dr. Zero (msg #13):

Phantasm, without looking up from her book, shoves the box of donuts in the general vicinity of the strange masked newcomer.  "Donut?"

In reply to Phantasm (msg #15):

(Looks at donut.) "Thank you, Miss." The Dr. reaches behind himself and materializes a glass of water from thine air. He crumples the donut into the water, stirs it, and pours it into a little hose connected to his mask. There is a hum as the liquid is slowly drained. "Nom, nom, nom," hums the Dr. happily.

In reply to Samuel Wolfson (msg #11):

Imp (excited to be interacting with a fellow nova) "Don't sell yourself short, just cause you don't really know how to control it or focus it yet doesn't mean that you don't have the power that fuels the modern world at your beck and call.  You'll be one potent motherfucker soon enough.  Me, all i can do is make stuff stop or speed up or change direction, well that and the eruption changed my body something fierce.  That's sorta why i went with the name "Impetus:"  momentum, force of change, all that stuff.  That and I feel so different from who i was before that the name Jason feels like it belongs to a different person. Hello Quentin, nice to make your acquaintance."
Imp twists on his seat and addresses the room at large:  Hey everybody, My name's Jason, but please call me Impetus.  Nice to meet all of you." Imp gives his best smile.  "Looks like we're all in the same boat.  I would love to learn your names and get to know you a bit before whatever it is that they're gonna do to us here starts.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Imp doesn't have full control on his powers, and even when he does he will still subconsciously adjust to what people around him find pleasing/attractive, so if this approach doesn't work for your character, please let me know what will.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 04:36, Tue 31 Mar 2009.

"P-P-Potent motherfucker..." Sam whispers to himself. He leans back and allows his mind to wander as Impetus addresses the room. He imagines himself as a powerful storm spirit from the legends his grandmother used to tell him. He doesn't like what he sees; he's too... different. As Sam returns to reality, he is greeted by yet another new face. "Oh! H-Hello Quentin. I'm S-S-Samuel, good to meet you." Sam extends his hand in friendship, almost forgetting to put his tendril away.

Vaguely looking at Zero, Phantasm mouths "eeew" before turning briefly to the rest of the room and introducing herself curtly...

"Phantasm. Hi."

And then she returns to TV, Donuts, and Book.

While floating around the facility, David remembers his last day at the hotel he had been calling home for the last few months.  He smiles as he nervously plays with the cross on his neck similar to the one he placed on the pillow of the hotel for the next person to know that they are loved. He Returns his hand to firmly grasp his Bible.  He makes his way into the lounge area and spies several novas and smiles lightly as he sees the man he met once, Dr. Zero.

"Hello all, My name is David," He smiles and hovers waiting for someone to offer a seat hopefully.

Jessica looks up from her game, gazing around the room before settling on Impetus, who had asked the question.

"Jessica, but I go by Solitaire. A pleasure." She then looks back down, eyes the cards disapprovingly, picks them up, reshuffles them and deals again.

*floats over and gets a tray of food and eats while hovering*

Quenten just looked at the proffered hand for a moment before he's sure that he won't be zapped and then shakes it. He turns to the rest of the room. "As I said, I'm Quentin Abernathy. Its not official," a corner of his mouth turns up in a half-grin, "but I've been thinking of going by the name 'Gravitas' - for reasons that I'm sure will rapidly become obvious."

wait a minute, we get official names? do we get to choose or are they assigned?, David asks looking to Quentin, then all the other gathered faces.

That pulls Quentin up short for a moment, "I didn't mean official like that. I meant I hadn't decided on it 100%."

David seems to wither in on himself for a moment "oh, I'm sorry, but I was kind of thinking about it myself and I came up with a name too...Prodigal" David said hovering closer to Quentin's table, His wings flapping lightly.

Samuel frowns. Impetus, Gravitus, Prodigal? Seems like everyone here has a codename but me. Seems like I'll need to come up with one. Dynamo? No, to simple. Lightning Lad? No, what am I, ten? Maybe... Samuel continues to rattle of name after name, and none of them sound right.

"Sir?  We've arrived."  Someone shook Dillon's shoulder and woke him from his haze.  He'd been dreaming of dancing octagons and Pax's motivational video-conference.  Days of testing and screening had left him a little weary.

He followed the UN Soldiers and dropped his bags on a bed in a room that beat his parents' trailer and any barracks he'd been assigned before.  It was tempting, but the soldiers were already telling him that the rest of his team was at the lounge.  Dillon felt something tingling behind his forehead, yawned, and followed them.

The facility place looked like a hodge-podge of cold-war era concrete, modern office space, research lab and modern convenience.  He had to squint to see through the constant swirl of high spectrum radiation his eyes and ears had begun to pick up.  His guess was that it was an old air-base or nuclear bunker cannibalized for the new base.  Hadn't the news said something about U.S. officials and Project Utopia?  Memory wasn't serving him well.  Butterflies in his stomach.  He started doing multiplication in his head to give himself something to do.

He waited in the doorway and blinked several times.  "Uh ... am I in the right place?"  There was a woman playing cards, a uniformed spook in a gas-mask, a woman lounging on a couch with a book, a hovering guy with wings and a bible, a white-haired rocker with playing cards, and a couple of science-looking types talking about code-names.  Maybe I should have worn that suit the Utopia guys gave me, he thought to himself, looking at his black boots, camouflaged pants, and leather jacket.

After a moment of concentration, Samuel gasps loudly, as though he'd just had an epiphany. He raises his hands as if to from the word in the air and says "Blitzkrieg! That's the p-p-perfect codename!"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Tue 31 Mar 2009.

Dillon jumped a bit at the outburst.  "I guess so," he said quietly to himself.

David turns his head first towards the new arrival, " You could indeed be in theright place my name is David," He says smiling full of warmth of not being the last to arrive. Before turning to Bliztkrieg.

"It sounds like a good name, good job coming up with one,"

Quentin raised an eyebrow at Samuel's outburst but was otherwise noncommental.

"If you're here to join Team Tomorrow, then yes, I'd say you are," he instead replied to Comstock. "We seem to be meant to wait here until they're ready for us. Something of a meet-and-greet for the moment, I suppose."

After a long period of waiting (longer for some than for others...), many sets of feet can be heard moving down the stark halls of the facility, towards the lounge.

The first to enter the room is a white woman in her early 30's, the same one that escorted most of you off of your planes; the name tags on her uniform, combined with her rank marks (for those that understand such things) tell you that this is Lt. Kovich.

Behind her, enter a middle aged black man in professional business attire, and a...  A very tall young woman in her middle to late 20's, with strangely colored (Silver? Blue? Grey?) skin, wearing what is clearly a Nova outfit.

At the first sound of their approach, Solitaire gathers up her cards with a deft sweep of her hand, boxes them up and puts them back in her jacket. She hadn't been winning anyway, she never did. She spins her chair around to face the door, crossing her arms and legs as she does so, one foot tapping idly at the air. She studies the newcomers as they enter, guessing they are the powers that be, gives them a nod in greeting, and waits for one of them to speak. This was their show at the moment, they could make the introductions.

"Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long.  The last plane took longer to arrive than we thought, due to weather over the mountains.  But it is good that you had a chance to meet one another.  You're going to be working together closely for the better part of the coming year...

So.  Introductions and orientation.  I'm Dan Walker.  I run this facility.  Before I came here, before I was a part of Project Utopia, I worked closely with both the U.N. and the United States government.  Before that, I spent a good deal of time in the military, and became familiar with training fresh recruits.  Please trust me when I say that you are in experienced hands, and that I have your best interests in mind.  Though you may resent me at times, and your training may be difficult in places, you will come out of this program stronger and far better than you came in.

There are numerous individuals here that will be helping in your training.  Treat them with respect.  In fact, that is perhaps one of the most important things that you will learn here: Treat everyone with respect.  Wars are averted and lives saved, with simple respect.  Respect one another, respect the organization you work for, respect the countries you work with, and respect the people you are helping.  You'll hear more of this from me when we have PR classes I'm sure, so I'll stop there.

While you will be introduced to all of your instructors tomorrow, I felt you should meet two very important people on base: Lt. Kovich and Ms. Frostburn.  I will let them explain their roles to you themselves."

Dillon quickly vacated the doorway and took a place next to Quentin.  "I'm Dillon.  It's good to meet you," he whispered.  Quentin had poise and ease, was obviously smarter than him.  It was a bit intimidating.  Smart people were always intimidating.  He folded his arms behind him and stood at ease, falling back on habit.

The Lt. steps up to address the room, a look of stern professionalism on her face.

"Hello everyone.  I am Lt. Anne Kovich.  I am in charge of security on this base, will be teaching several of your classes, and am the person to come to for concerns regarding the facilities, your lodging, and your communication with the outside world.  I hope you have a productive time here at UtopiaNevada, and urge you to give the training program your best effort."

After Kovich finishes her short speech, the nova woman steps up and prepares to speak as well.  Though her size and appearance are intimidating, her expression is... Playful?

Some of you may be familiar with her, if you are nova enthusiasts.  She is an auxiliary member of T2M, and a trouble shooter of sorts.

"Hi all.  My nova name is Frostburn, and since I haven't used my former name in years, you won't actually need to know it.

I work with Team Tomorrow, have for the past year and a half, and before that I've served in an advisory role to several governments... on the powers of novas, and how to work with them.

Here on base I'll be training you in your powers, and dealing with any nova related problems that you might have.  Adjustment to your abilities, handling human/nova relations, where to find the best place to party in Vegas... sorry, yes Mr. Walker, I know this is serious, but they will be going out on the town eventually...

Anyway, I'm here to help you become a well adjusted nova.  If you need anything, drop by.

Oh, and since a few of you were wondering I'm sure, my powers are primarily thermal in nature..."

The temperature of the room drops by several degrees, and anyone holding a cold beverage has their glass cooled.  Frostburn takes a bow, and then steps back to allow a slightly annoyed Mr. Walker to speak.

"Thank you ladies.

Now, the rest of the night is yours to play with.  Go to the dinning facility, and get yourselves a real meal.  Get to know one another better.  Read over the handouts you are about to receive.

Tomorrow, we start bright and early... Well, dark and early actually.  So get some rest.  A guard will arrive promptly at 4am to wake you.

Thank you for your time, and good day."

Mr. Walker walks out of the room, followed by Lt. Kovich, while Frostburn stays a few moments as several individuals in military dress begin handing out your performance manuals, schedules, etc.

Samuel was quite happy indeed to finally see the people who were going to be instructing him, and he wanted that instruction to begin as soon as possible, Though 4am seems rather early, even for him. He approaches the military personel to recieve the information he needs. He gives Frostburn a rather quizzical look, thinking about the frost on his glass of Sierra Mist.

Solitaire groans, looking over her schedule with disgust. "4 AM... Seriously?" That was when she usually went to sleep... This was going to be quite unpleasant for a while. Still, it could be worse, though from the way Dan had spoken it seemed the early hours would be the least of their worries. Getting started was good though. She needed to learn some control, as she didn't quite know her strength yet. Ripping a door off its hinges had been funny the first time, less so when she had to pay for it... And she still hadn't mastered flying.

"Aw damn," Dillon slouched visibly and checked his watch.  "I hope it's just basic.  I can't do math in the morning."

David looks bemusedly at his schedule and tries to mentally prepare himself for what is coming over the next few days until he gets into the rhythm of it. "So...what does everyone want to do now?"

In reply to Samuel Wolfson (msg #40):

Frostburn flashes a smile at Samuel, then addresses the room:

"Any questions from anybody, now that the stuffy people are out of the room?"

As Kovitch left the room Imp flashed her a wink.  She looked like she was in really good shape under that uniform.  Nice. He then turned to Blitzkrieg and gave him a thumbs up.  "Perfecto" he whispered.
He turned his attention back to Frostburn.
So, pretty lady, this is a military operation, hunh?  Alright, what training are we going to recieve?  Are they going to try to guide our development or not?  If so, how do they know how to do so? Further, is fraternizing between trainees and staff something that will get us kicked out?  While speaking, Imp is scanning through his manuals, looking for anything suspicious.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:35, Wed 01 Apr 2009.

In reply to Impetus (msg #45):

Smiling winningly, she replies:

"Well,as for training, you're going to get everything we can shove in that pretty head of yours.  Diplomacy, physics, languages, tactics, combat training... Like i said, everything we can pump into you.  You'd be surprised what comes in handy on missions.

As for powers, we'll just have to see what happens.  You guys are all just starting to explore your abilities.  It's my job to see to it that you learn how to control them, and to teach you how to improve your proficiency with them.

And... as far as staff/trainee relations..."

at this point, Frostburn moves seductively up to Impetus, close enough that he can feel her breath on his neck.  She puts her hand on his head... and ruffles his hair.

"...I'd take a cold shower kiddo.  But it isn't strictly against the rules, if you can find the energy.  Just don't use anything other than your winning personalities to get into someones pants!" At this point, she raises her voice and looks at everyone in the room "T2M needs strong leaders that won't intimidate the public.  We don't need sex scandals.  That said, there are enough nova groupies out there that anyone can get laid if they want to. And the party scene can be quite a good time... Just be responsible people, and you are in for the ride of your life."

"Good questions.  Anything else?"

Samuel can't help but laugh at his comrades attepmt at flirtation. Feeling better about this seemingly cold woman, he approaches her. "Ms. F-F-Frostburn, how is it th-that you can control your p-powers so... c-c-casually, and with s-so little effort?"

In reply to Frostburn (msg #46):

"Is there a chapel at the facility? If so is it only open on weekends or all the time? If there isn't one, would it be too much to ask for one? Or directions to the closest one?" David said looking slightly apprehensive, avoiding eye contact with Frostburn.

Dillon kept his distance from Frostburn and the commotion and tried to make small talk with Quentin and whoever else was nearby.  He flipped through the manuals and schedules idly.  He didn't really care what was in them.

To Quentin and the others.  "I need some food ... then I don't know.  You play hoops?"  Hoops was how he usually bonded.  He looked to prodigal, unsure how basketball would work versus a man with wings.  "Or, uh, cards?" he corrected, spotting Solitaire.

David played with the cross on his neck absently and looked at Dillon and shrugged. "I'm fine with anything"

In reply to Prodigal (msg #48):

"Well, there is a chapel here, but like most of the base, it isn't staffed.  For an actual service, you would want to drive into the city.

As for my powers Samuel... How do you drive your car so easily?  Or read a book?  Eventually it becomes natural. Hopefully, by the time we're done, you'll be just as capable as I am.

Ok guys, if there's nothing else, I'm out for the evening.  See you tomorrow morning.

Nice meeting everyone, and for those that didn't have any questions... think of some.  You need to start really thinking about your abilities."

Frostburn makes her exit, giving Impetus a pat on the back on the way out.

The Dr. walks out from behind Comstock seemingly out of nowhere. "Hoops? Maybe. But I have to admit I'm a bit bushed, and I think I'd loose my shirt in cards. How about something more relaxing before we're thrown to the lions? Anyone want to play video-games or board game? I have a copy of Elites 3: Toltenenz' Revenge, or Risk: Kashmir/Pakistan Judgment." Zero looks for a watch before realizing it was left in the apartment. "Bah! Does anyone know the time? I want to get at least 8 hrs before the Gauntlet begins tomorrow."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Wed 01 Apr 2009.

"Well, I haven't really in the past," Quentin admitted as he flexed one of his hands and stared at it. "But I think I could pick it up. I didn't really gain much in the way of strength with eruption, but my balance and stamina are... much improved." He had eaten almost nothing of the food offered in the room and, indeed, had not balked at the thought of waking up at 4am.

"That makes you think, though," he said, catching Comstock's glance at their new winged companion, "there's been some murmurs about nova sports, but you kinda have to wonder how that's gonna work..."

In reply to Comstock (msg #49):

"Cant say I play basketball, cards on the other hand..." Solitaire never turned down a game if she had the time. She was, however, significantly worse at them than she thought she was, but wrote it off as bad luck. She knew the rules to most games, had a good poker face, could read people reasonably well, and still could never seem to win. At best, she'd almost break even. Solitaire dismissed the thought. This time, got a good feeling.

Frostburn's words had shocked Samuel. "Natural?" he said to himself. Ignoring the others, he sat at the table to finish his food. I had always believed they were somehow separate from me. He thought a little more, and had to chuckle at himself. I need to stop listening to Grams. He used his tendril to give his now cold food a little zap, hoping to warm it up some. He figured he'd catch up with the others later; he had a bit of thinking to do.

Dillon shrugged.  "Probably with him dunking on us and a lot of college scholarships.  Or that masked wrestling they got in Mexico."

Dr. Zero's sudden appearance startled Dillon.  "It's past four.  We've got, like, three hours if you want a good night's sleep."  He looked around.  Video-games weren't his thing, and he wouldn't know what to do with a board game if the instructions were etched into his eyeballs.  He'd played his little brother in Monopoly once and that hadn't ended well.  "Alright, look, I'm gonna get changed and drop this stuff off in my bunk.  Anyone who wants, we can work up a bit of a sweat at whatever they've got for a gym here and then kill the night with Texas Hold'em or whatever.  Yeah?"  It looked like Samuel was out, but Dillon couldn't figure out where the rest of the room stood.

Quentin performed a quick adjustment in his head to the Pacific timezone. "Its actually about 6pm," he offered. "Timezones and all."

He shrugged on the note of returning to his room, he didn't really have much to unpack anyway. "I suppose we should head to the 'dining facility'? We can discuss what to do after that once yo- we're done eating." He corrected himself mid-word, supposing that he should probably eat something with the others to be sociable.

"ok that sounds like a plan, I hope they have meatloaf, I haven't had any good meatloaf in a while," David said hover next to what he hoped were new friends.

In reply to Prodigal (msg #58):

Realizing that everyone was leaving for dinner, Phantasm looked mournfully at her couch-nest before grudgingly getting up and following behind everyone else.

Moving up behind Comstock, she taps him on the shoulder

"I'll play ball with you if you can't get anyone else.  After dinner though."

"Alright, cool.  Let's go."  Dillon said his goodnights to everyone heading to bed early, then left in search of the dining facility.

"So, I think I caught most of your names, but I came in near the end there.  What's with the code-names?  Dillon asked the others as they walked.  The guys at the Rashoud center were asking me if I had one yet."

Impetus, thrilled that he had been invited to play sports, even if it was a group invite, perked up.  "I'd love to play some ball; I haven't played since grade school though." (in his mind "playing ball" was equated with getting picked last or not at all, then being subjected to constant ridicule.  Maybe now, with his new and improved bod things would be better)
He fell in beside Comstock as they group of novas moved towards the dining area. "Code names?  I dunno, it seems that all Novas have 'em.  If you think about it what sounds better "Superman save me!" or, "Hey, Clark, gimme a hand!" Imp's brow furrowed in thought, "That and really, i can only speak for myself, but the name that suited me so well before feels to.. what's the word, constrictive."
Looking over at Phantasm Imp smiled and held out a hand.  "We haven't been properly introduced, please call me Impetus, or Imp for short."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:27, Thu 02 Apr 2009.

"As much as I'd like to play I think maybe I shouldn't unless someone else can fly too, maybe things will be even that way." David responded wanting everyone to feel like that they could have a good time.

"Think of it this way, you can fly, but you have to dribble the ball every 3 flaps, so you can't get that far above us.  That and the basket's the same height for us as it is for you so we can still try to block you.  Really, those of us who can't fly will have to learn how to deal with people who can fly sooner or later, right?  My question is, do we use our other powers or not?  I'm voting on not since i don't have that much control over mine yet."

"Solitaire's been my nickname for a few years now actually. Picked it up when I got to art school, seemed to fit.  Was a bit of a loner, and liked to play cards." She hadn't cared, hadn't had much in common with them anyway. "Oh, and I can fly too, sort of. The only bit I've really masted is falling though." Solitaire chuckled a bit at that. "And how are you going to define powers? I can't do anything flashy, but I can bench a car these days. Can't really turn that off... Why not just have some fun, we have skill, why not use them? Though we should probably try to avoid damaging the gym too much, they might not like that. Go easy on me though, eh?" The threw the group of them a smile.

Quentin laughs quietly for a moment. "Well, if what you've said of your powers is true, it may be nearly impossible to win against you," he briefly imagined people shooting the ball for the hoop and then the ball reversing direction and hitting them ungracefully in the face. He grinned for a moment and continued to speak, "As for other powers, I'm 50/50. On one hand I'm interested to see how it will go and observe the general chaos of trying to play a game that was never meant to be played outside the confines of baseline abilities. On the other, it may prove to be ultimately futile." He shrugged as if the question was largely academic to him - which it was. "If anyone is telekinetic, for example, they wouldn't need to dribble at all. Imagine someone shooting from half-court and the ball just weaving through the air until it scored a cool three points."

"I don't really have a lot of choice about my powers, but I don't think I'll be getting heavy or anything.  Don't know how that would help."  The group turned a corner.  "The science guys were telling me that a name goes a long way, making us celebrities or whatever.  I was kinda thinkin' 'Comstock' since it's the only thing out of Nevada History in middle school I can remember.  You know, like the mine?  Oh, hey."  Dillon stopped and held out a hand, concentrating hard.  From his wrist and palm, metal seemed to seep out through the skin, covering his fingers.  The silvery 'glove' grew until it was more like an oven mitt covered in jagged edges and points.  His forehead throbbed slightly, a slight euphoria overtaking him.  "Hurts.  That's about my limit right now."

Thinking, Dillon turned to Prodigal.  "We got limits, you know?  I mean, there's probably a ceiling, and those things," Dillon pointed to Prodigal's wings, "are pretty big and probably get stuck on doorways and stuff."

Flashes a brief, timid look before taking Imp's hand and shaking it firmly "Phantasm. Hi. And yeah, I obviously agree on the name thing."
Turning to the crowd in general, and speaking in a serious, quiet voice:
"I personally think people should just use powers if they have them. Isn't like some people can turn them off... How do you suddenly get more clumsy, ya know?  And games are a good way to learn things."
Not waiting to find out if anyone cared what she had to say, she turns to Comstock, looking at his now metalic hand:
"oh... Are you a shapeshifter then?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:25, Thu 02 Apr 2009.

Imp stares at the metal hand.  "That's cool.  Very cool. And yeah, clearly we can't get clumsier or weaker, i think.  But a friendly game yes?  No lightening bolts or eathquakes or tsunamis, deal?"

Samuel had decided to shadow the group so he wouldn't get too far behind; he'd like to get a chance to see basketball since he's never played. If these powers really are natural, he wondered as he looked at his tendril, then why does this thing always act like it has a mind of it's own? The tendril then reached out and scorched a question mark onto the wall. He glared at the thing and said "Y-You're not h-he-helping."

With some effort, Dillon managed to restore his normal shape.  "Nah, I just ... I can draw the silver out." He really didn't understand very well himself.  "The doctors at the screening had some words for it.  I get worked up and I go more and more metal.  Saved me from some wicked falls.  So, uh, do you change?  Like, faces and stuff?"



"Deal."

A sign overhead advertised 'Dining Commons,' and Dillon entered, found a table, and began looking around for chow.  "I kinda just wanted to get useful again.  Save the world and get some education.  This is all pretty weird for me."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:12, Thu 02 Apr 2009.

In reply to Samuel Wolfson (msg #69):

David looked over at Dillon's hand and smiled, "That's an amazing blessing that you have there,". Then looks over as he hears Samuel "Are you ok?"

The dining facility is a line style cafeteria with a large selection of food.  Larger than one would expect actually, considering the small size of the staff.  There is a short order line for those wanting a hamburger, or some other grill item.

The room is lined with tables (no booths).  The only real decoration is in the lamps that illuminate the walls through their stained glass shades.  Any other decoration that might have been here was removed when the base was decommissioned.

Several soldiers and staff members look up from their tables when you enter, but quickly return to their food; apparently they are somewhat used to working with novas, as they do not appear to be overly concerned with your strangeness.

))))))))

For those interested, your folders contain a list of the classes you will be taking, tentative time schedules, a map of the base, rules and regulations, and the introductory packet for T2M members (what is expected, responsibilities, etc).

[I will not detail this in its entirety, as I would prefer to leave myself some flexibility here.  However, you have the general gist of the classes you will be in from earlier posts, and can assume behavior guidelines similar to the military (but less restrictive).  I will describe the base in more detail as time progresses]

Samuel looked up from his tendril at David, then over to the question mark on the wall. Maybe we're not so separate. His tendril crackled, seemingly in agreement. He smiled. "I'm f-fine David, just doing a little th-th-thinking is all... Out of c-curiousity, what can you d-do? I wasn't paying attention f-for the past few m-minutes."

In reply to Samuel Wolfson (msg #73):

David smiles warmly and replies "I have been blessed to wield power from both heaven and hell, I'd have to show you what I mean another time, maybe when we get outside or power training,"

Samuel is somewhat confused for a moment. "Heaven and Hell?" he wonders. "Oh! S-So you a c-c-c-christian then?"

David stops flying forward and hovers in place for a second looking confused. How could he not have noticed the bible and the cross... " Yes Samuel, I am. Are you not? No, before you ask, I'm not judging you, I'm just asking" David smiles back.

Davids politeness amuses Samuel somewhat. "No. M-My family has many N-Native American traditions and b-beliefs;" he paused for a moment "in fact they have so m-many they actually c-c-contradict eachother s-so-sometimes. Th-That coupled w-with the fact that there are m-many other religons in the w-world, with c-c-c-countless denominations, has l-l-led me to the c-conclusion that is b-best to remain religiously n-neutral. Even so, m-many of those stories and th-there morals stuck with me, and I even find m-myself asking the sp-spirits for guidance sometimes."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Thu 02 Apr 2009.

As she preferred to avoid discussions on religion, the topic made her uncomfortable, especially since her eruption. How did you respect the subject of God(s)when you had damn near become one yourself? Best to avoid that can of worms. She thought, and wandered over to the line to see if she could find herself a bacon cheeseburger. Solitaire had developed a prodigious appetite since she became a Nova, which amused her, as she didn't have an ounce of fat on her.

Dillon was waiting for steak himself.  His parents had tried to raise him Mormon, but he'd never actually religion much thought.  He looked at Solitaire.  "So, uh, nice jacket."

Imp ordered himself a big omelet with some hash browns.  While his meal was being cooked he glances around the caf.  "Pretty spartan, looks like they don't want anything to distract us from our training.  I'm still a little curious why there are so many military personnel here, where are the flights of scientists and their staff? Surly we are being examined as much as being trained."

In reply to Impetus (msg #80):

Turning to Impetus "I'd imagine they really wanted to give us a chance to relax before all the serious work began," David then turns to one of the cooks.

"Meatloaf please, with a side of potatoes, and broccoli...and corn...and peas...uh..some turkey...maybe some past...if its not too much to ask..thank you very much,"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Fri 03 Apr 2009.

"...eh... its weird.  You'll see eventually." After dodging the question, Phantasm makes herself busy filling up a plate of food, filling her tray with about three meals worth of food.

She picks a large table that everyone can sit at, and then begins eating.  Though likely not with the same gusto of everyone else.  She takes her time, as though actually tasting it.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:52, Fri 03 Apr 2009.

"Maybe they're there, but we haven't seen them yet.  Now would be a good time to watch us and take notes.  Start of group formation, early analysis of powers, things like that."

Quintin smirks, loading a plate down with a modest meal of almost-nothing in comparison to the others. "Not exactly like we'll be using a lot of powers while we eat, though if we do head to the court afterwards, thats likely to be a different story." He looked at the relatives amounts of food each was planning to consume, "I guess there are some things one simply cannot hide, though."

The good doctor appears next to Impetus as soon as he finishes his sentence. "Ah, my good man. Isn't it obvious? The soldiers are here to protect everyone... from us. They have deemed us dangerous enough to fight for them, and dangerous enough to start keeping their best and brightest away from us. It is amusing, no?"

In reply to Quentin Abernathy (msg #84):

David looks at his wings for a second and then looks at Quentin and sinks a bit lower in the air. I hope that wasn't a shot at me...

Listening to the others, Samuel looks at his food and laughs, "Ha! It w-wouldn't surprise m-me if they were s-sneaking probes into our f-f-food so they study our insides." He procedes to scarf down his plate of spicy chicken and greenbeans.

In reply to Comstock (msg #79):

"Thanks, I feel naked without it. Had it longer than my nickname. It was a gift..." Solitaire runs a hand over her left sleeve, almost lovingly. She normally wasn't too particular about the condition of her belongings, her cd player was beat to hell, her jeans were faded and had a rip in the right knee. Her jacket was different though. It was tailored to fit her perfectly, and she polished it regularly, getting out the scuffs, keeping it pure black and the superfluous buckles and zippers shiny. It looked like she might have bought it yesterday.

"Not a bad one yourself." She says, eying Comstock's leather jacket. She gives him a smile, picks up her bacon-cheeseburger laden tray, and heads off to join the others at their table.

Dillon followed.  "Oh yeah.  This thing."  Dillon's jacket was brown and heavy, worn thin in places.  Dusty.  "I've had it awhile."  Real smooth, moron.  Nothing better to say?



"The screening guys already got a look at my guts.  I dunno that they'll find out anything else that way.  I mean, it's not like we're working for Uncle Sam or anything.  We're supposed to be heroes, right?  I don't know if I believe in a better world of tomorrow, but these guys are supposed to help us understand what's happened to us."  And for Dillon, it was something that had happened to him.  Not a gift or his true self.  Something weird that didn't make a lot of sense.

And Dr. Zero was pushing that discomfort at the unknown on him.  Costume, gas mask, weird voice, appearing out of nowhere.  Especially that last one.  "Now ... how the hell do you keep doing that?  Every time I think I've got an eye on you ..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:39, Fri 03 Apr 2009.

Imp, eating with as much etiquette as his appetite could manage, looked at Sam.  "Probes on our insides, hunh?" He began chewing each and every mouthful of food slowly and deliberately, as if he could chew the probes to death.

In reply to Impetus (msg #90):

"You don't buy that do you?" Solitaire sets her tray down on the table, taking a open chair. "Utopia is do-gooder central, and imagine how we'd react to something like that. Nah, they're on the level, I'm sure, least as far as the food's concerned." She chuckles, and grins around the table before digging in with gusto, completely unworried by the possibility.

 No weapon formed against me shall prosper. No weapon formed against me shall prosper...what if it isn't formed against me... David continues to eat but eats alot slower, as though thoroughly thinking about each bite.

"This is a damn good steak."  Dillon ate heartily.  "So as you guys can probably tell, I'm from around here.  How about you guys?"

"Kind of all over," Quentin replied, waving a hand around as if to encompass all of an imaginary map. "Most recently Chicago. Before that, a bit on both coasts... I grew up in Iowa, but I haven't been back in nearly five years."

"All up and down the west coast, though mostly Seattle. I just followed the music."

Samuel downs his entire glass of water. That chicken is HOT! He looks up and says, "W-Well I'm from..." He stops short. "I don't know w-w-w-where I'm originally from, c-come to think of it. Ever since..." He trails off for a moment before snapping back to reality. "M-My family and I have always m-m-moved around, we never r-r-really called any one p-p-place home. But, I c-came here from New York C-C-City."

I'm from Seattle originally, but for the last 6 years I've been in Massachusetts for school.  I like this desert, so different from anywhere i've been before.  Imp finishes his omelet.  "So, anybody wanna take bets on how long it'll be before we meet one of the big guns for T2M?  Splash, or Pax, or Skew or someone else?"

"Uncle Sam? No. More like Mother Hen U.N."

Zero leans in close, his eyes hidden behind inexpressive lenses of his mask. "Oh? Do you fancy yourself a Hero? How bold. Please, humor me, Mr. Stock. What do you feel a hero is? Or, perhaps, who do you feel is a hero? Do you feel the soldiers on the other side of those walls believe there are heroes in this room right now? I doubt they are here to protect us. What do you think they think of us?"



"NY City. The Empire City."



"I am more concerned with us becoming the 'Big Guns.'"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:37, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

"Us? The Big Guns?  Really? I think we've got a long way to go before something like that comes even comes close to happening.  Seriously, Did you see pax lift that 737 out of the Hudson? or when The Apollo Kid flew faster than that spyplane?  Or, well, lots of ors.  Still, even being an aux like Frostburn would be amazing, and a hell of a long way off."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:22, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

In reply to Impetus (msg #99):

"You don't give yourself enough credit. We've all got something, or we wouldn't be here." Solitaire taps her forehead with a finger. "And that something is a M-R Node. We've got what it takes to be the next big thing, 'cause we're already it. There's only what, 1500? 2000 of us, total? We'll be in the spotlight soon enough, hell, I'll be more surprised if we can avoid it for 6 months." She finishes off her 'burger, downs a glass of water, looks at the glass as if slightly disappointed for a moment, before quickly shaking her head to clear it. "Whatever it is you're here for, and it must be something. You'll get it, and I expect sooner rather than later. If its fame, glory, money or to help people, Utopia has something for everyone, as for me? I want a bit of it all."

"Fame, glory and money all sound pretty good, but so does finding out how far we can go.  What we can be capable of.  I wanna walk on the bottom of the ocean, and on the surface of Mars without needing technology to survive.  Surf a solar flare and watch the Aurora Borealis from the north pole.  that and sex, lots and lots of sex."

"Ah Impetus, you speak my language." Solitaire laughs. "We need to see just what our limits are, if we even have any." She smiles, and stares into nothing for a moment, basking in the glow of her destiny.

Dillon tried to ignore Dr. Zero's jabs.  He didn't have an answer.  He knew he wasn't smart, but getting it rubbed in his face doubled his self-consciousness.  He stayed quiet for a bit, his skin thinning and taking on a metallic sheen.

As the talk turned to rewards, he worked himself up to speaking again.  "How rich do you think we're gonna get, anyway?  Dillon scratched his head.  "I mean, if there are only like two thousand of us ... we barely know what these nodes are."  He had his own fears.  He hadn't been able to get drunk since his eruption, and though he'd never really had a steady girlfriend physical contact was a bit intimidating.  The thought of accidental power use was a bit creepy.  Weirded him out.  He didn't want to admit it.  He still liked cards, wanted hot sex, missed the buzz of beer.  The last thing he wanted to be was 'that guy,' the buzz-kill.

"Than I guess we had better hit the ground running, though I don't think we are as far behind as you think. Perhaps we are being trained because people think T2M has gone too far."



"I think you will spend all your money to afford all your children & 'baby's mama's," Zero Chuckles.




Zero's head turns mechanically to face Solitaire. In a very different and deep tone he asks: "And what of our moral limits? Do we have any? Should we have any? If we are infinite, can we do, literally, anything? Should we? I am curious."



Zero Stirs a drink while not looking at Comstock. "Now, now, Mr. Stock. I do not ask these questions unless I want an answer. You are now one of the most powerful men on this Earth. Your opinion matters."



Zero plays with the drink absently, looking at no one while talking."Oh, I suspect you might be very wise, Mr. Stock. Very wise indeed, if you can remember that." Zero stops and turns to stare at Comstock with his empty, black lenses.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:19, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

Imp pauses (very observant observes may notice a flash of anguish and doubt cross his face, then it vanishes as if it were never there) then frowns.  "I think we do have moral limits.  Just because i can make someone shoot a mile up into the air doesn't mean that i should.  If anything it makes us have more moral responsibilities, not less.  We have power yeah, but by being here we have all chosen to use it to make others better, or at least that's part of our reason for being here. Comstock, i bet that you could rob any bank you wanted to, if your skin is metal can bullets even hurt you?  Why are you taking a job with a salary?  I think it's because you want to matter.  I know i want to matter."  He grins.  "sorry for getting all serious, lets go shoot some hoops."

"Dr. Zero, the things you say...you seem as if you don't believe you are here for a good reason...so then why are you here?" David looking a little confused, before standing up to go play hoops.

Samuel looks at Impetus for a moment, then addresses Dr. Zero. "Hm." he mused, "You speak as th-though you don't c-c-consider yourself human anymore, D-Dr. Zero."

Having been relatively quiet to this point, merely observing the interactions taking place, Quentin pipes up. "Are we truely human anymore? I think that's a big question to answer. They're already calling us a different species. I mean, sure, a  lot of us are physically human, but still," he points at one of his eyes, which are a glossy black, infinitely deep, "we have some obviously inhuman traits. I won't claim to know how it works, but no human could ever do some of the things we can do. In a way, we've evolved beyond baseline humanity, whether or not we want to acknowledge it."

He shrugs, "But that alone raises a lot of questions, most of which have been addressed. Its rather like the Spiderman comics said 'With great power comes great responsibility.' and our power is great, indeed." As if to punctuate this point, a rippling distortion in space pulses out from Quentin's body. He winces, clearly it was not intentional.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:37, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

The air around Samuel crackles with excitement. "Evolved you say? C-C-Can we really call th-th-this evolution? T-Take me for example. This w-wasn't brought on b-by some ep-p-piphany or stressful situation, I w-w-was struck b-by lightning!" A mini-thunderclap accompanies his words, and he clasps his hands over his mouth in surprise. "Anyway," he says after calming down a bit, "even if w-we aren't human anym-m-more, d-d-does that r-r-really mean we should hold ourselves ab-bove humanity?"

"Evolution is caused by mutation.  Are we mutants?  Are we mutations that are beneficial to the species thus will theoretically breed true, or more worryingly, outcompete our unmutated brethren?  I dunno.  I don't think I'm a mutant, and while we do have some novas who are obviously inhuman looking, those ones are all from outisde Utopia.  Clearly the docs here know how to keep us looking human, or as human as we can be, and to teach us how to use our powers safely.  I know that i love my parents and my sister and i would never put anyone i cared about in danger, even if that danger is caused by myself.  I don't think i see that ever happening."  Imp looks lost in though; troubled by something.  "Too much philosophy for this guy," his clothes shifting into a tight fitting black tank top and loose shorts.  He checked the laces on his sneakers. "I'm off to get some exercise before bed.  Anybody wanna come, if not that's totally cool."

"F-F-Feels like I could use a r-r-run after all that food and c-c-conversation. I'll join you."

"Well, if we're breaking for tonight, I think I'm gonna crash. I'll take pity on the poor bastard sent to get me up at 4AM. I'll be less likely to knock him through a wall with a reasonable amount of sleep. I'm not a morning person." She grins to the group at large. "That, and I get the feeling we'll be put through our paces tomorrow anyway."

Dillon kept his cool for the most part.  "My name's Dillon," he corrected, sidestepping the question.



"Yeah ... we're pretty unique."  The MR-Node was magic for all Dillon knew.  They could all have fatal cancer that happened to unlock a bit of human potential by changing blood-flow around the brain.  They could be radioactive like comic book characters and a danger.  He shut up to avoid saying something stupid.



"Alright ... take it easy."  Dillon waved to Solitaire and tabled his dishes.  If she put guys through walls, he had a feeling he was going to end up her sparring partner and alarm clock.  He talked for a bit about this or that, then made his goodbyes.  "I'm just going to get some hoops in.  It was good meeting you guys."

He had a bad taste in his mouth.  Dr. Zero wasn't wrong.  Dillon had kept silent and refused to indulge him.  Partly out of disgust.  Partly because he didn't know what made a hero, didn't know what made a human, and didn't want to open his mouth without having something useful to say.  When he felt stupid, he liked having time to think.  Tonight that meant hoops, and he didn't really care anymore if anyone followed him.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:52, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

In reply to Comstock (msg #113):

(since conversation has been good, and since it could be revealing seeing people play ball w/powers, I'll extend this evening until the end of the ball game.  Solitaire and anyone else not playing can feel free to write home, contemplate, arrange your rooms, whatever.)

The basketball courts, when you ask about them, are actually a block away at the base gym.

The building very clearly was only recently reopened. The walls are in the process of being painted, the workout equipment is being overhauled (equipment for baselines; your workout equipment will be elsewhere most likely) and the court itself is in need of some maintenance.

But its good enough to play on.

The doctor stares at Impetus quietly.



"Ah, a question. I am here for many reasons. One is to learn. I want to know what a Nova is."



Dr. Zero's hand comes up the stroke his masked chine thoughtfully. "I must admit, I'm not sure. What do you think, young man? In your opinion, am I human?"



The doctor's head tilt's slightly to the left. "Are you alright, Mr. Abernathy?" Zero suddenly rises to start examining and poking Abernathy. He draws up a seat and gestures for him to sit. Secretly, the doctor focuses his senses through the MR Node in his brain, trying to "see" and "feel" the Quantum flows and patters that make Mr. Abernathy.



Without taking his eyes off Mr. Abernathy, almost off hand: "So you're one limit is sleep..." The Doctor muses.



While poking Mr. Abernathy's ribs and not looking away: "My apologies, Mr. Stock."

Zero humphs at the rest of Comstock's sidesteps of his questions, evidently disappointed in his responses.

(As characters leave to play ball, and assuming Abernathy joins them, the Dr. sighs & leaves to play with them, moaning "No rest for the brilliant." He stretches and joins them.)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

Sameul studies Dr. Zero for a moment. What a strange man. he wonders. "I r-r-really can't say wheth-ther or not your human, D-Dr. Zero. With all that g-g-gear and whatnot on ya, y-you could b-b-be some kinda alien, f-for all I know." Samuel laughs, finding this notion rather silly.

Quentin does what he can to wave off Zero's attentions. "Yeah, I'm fine. Its just a gravitational wave. I still don't have full control, it happens sometimes." When the others start to break up, he stands as well to follow to the basketball court. He has only poked at the small amount of food he obtained, eating only because it was polite to do so.

Phantasm notably ignored most of the discussion regarding the nature of novas and the status of their humanity.  Though when Dr. Zero stands up to prod and examine Quentin she gets a strange look on her face, for just a brief moment.  Though it is difficult to discern what that look actually meant.  Concern, anger, interest... all of the above?



Once Quentin dismisses Dr. Zero, and people start getting up to go (and her three plates of food are sitting empty), Phantasm gets up from her chair and moves to exit the cafeteria.

Solitaire splits off from the group at the door, heading away from the gym, back to where she thinks her room is. She gives them a wave, and sets off down the hall.

Its about 15 minutes later she suspects she might be lost, if by "might", one meant, "hopelessly". The problem was, everything looked the bloody same. All white and sterile. She reaches into her back pocket, pulling out the packet with her schedule and map, she looks at it, then up at her surroundings, then back at the map. Solitaire then picks a direction at random and strides confidently down it.

20 minutes later, She stumbles across a guard and, swallowing her pride, asks him for directions.

10 minutes after that, she walks through the door to her room and falls down on the bed. Not a good day. Solitaire thinks grumpily. Not a good day at all. Still, she suspected tomorrow would be worse. It had been good to meet some other people like her though, and the benefits of being here far outweighed the current discomforts. Solitaire gets up, rifles through her duffel for her cd-walkman, hangs her jacket up in the closet, discards the rest of her clothes on the floor, and goes to sleep.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

Dillon found a basketball and discarded his jacket in a corner before trying a jump-shot from the three-point line.  He missed and collected the ball.  "Alright ... so who's done this before?" He looked over everyone, trying to size up players for equal teams.  "Uh, I'm still trying to figure out everyone's powers.  Any suggestions for match-ups?"  He dribbled idly and wondered if Dr. Zero would really play ... and if he did, whether he would keep his mask on.

Well, let's see.  Anyone far more agile than the average Joe?  Faster than a racehorse?  Able to fly? Able to throw the ball from the far end of the court into the other basket? Able to manipulate the trajectory of the ball without touching it?  All of the above?
For myself i kinda intuitively know how to play sports, any sports really, that and I'm super agile now.  Oh, and i can change the ball's direction, but i can't do anything like telekinetics yet.

"W-Well I don't know ab-b-bout a racehorse, but I'm p-p-pretty damn fast." Sameul grins, but this look soon turns into one of embarassment as he says, "But then ag-gain, I don't actually kn-n-now how to play b-b-basketball."

"My balance and coordination are better than they were before, and I played sports in high school, for what that's worth"

I hear it's simple.  Just put the ball in the metal circle on that pole over there.  I didn't really do sports in school; now, however, I'm up for almost anything.  So, Blitzkrieg is, fittingly, really fast.  Anybody else?

Dillon dribbled while the discussion went on.  He wasn't any faster or more coordinated than before he erupted.  He wasn't even that good.  He figured he would enjoy this one way or another, but he was starting to feel like there was no way he could win.  He summed up the rules he could remember.  "So there's dribbling ... shots are worth two or three points ..."

"I'll play on your team Dillon. That leaves Quinton, Prodigal, Samuel and... the Doctor. Who else wants to come play on our team?"

I'll go on team Dillon.  Do we want to do half court or full court?  Half court might make some of our increased mobility less of a factor.

Zero raises his gloved hand.

Zero doesn't raise his hand.

No hand.

Enthusiastically raised hand.

No hand. Lowers head in mock shame.


"Are we using powers? Does super dexterity and skill count as a 'power?'"



"We get to choose ourselves? No high school popularity contest? My oh my." The doctor points straight at Mr. Stock. "I'm on your team."



Zero strokes his chin thoughtfully. "A half-court does sound more entertaining, Mr. Pet. Yes. We will do that."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:01, Mon 06 Apr 2009.

David, obviously shaken by the previous conversations about not being human not human...does that mean I don't have forgiveness...I mean does being blessed mean I'm no longer meek...but the meek shall inherit the earth....what does that mean for me...or any of the others like me, obvious there must be some sort of plan for us... flies in the air the question comes up about flight. "I guess I'll be on Team Impetus then, to try to even things out a bit,"

David shoots strange looks continously to Dr. Zero and Michael.

Constant ball bouncing? Half court? Full court? Two AND three pointers??? "Why c-c-couldn't we just hunt?" Saumel mutters to himself. "On second th-th-thought you guys, I think I'll j-j-just sit this one out. At least unt-t-til I underst-t-tand the game b-better."

Dillon counted on his fingers.  One man down, half-court, imbalanced teams.  "I'll tell you what: Impetus, you and Prodigal together.  Phantasm, Dr. Zero stick with me.  Let's see if that balances out the wings." He passed the ball to Prodigal.  "Uh ... usually you call travel when someone takes a few steps without dribbling, so don't fly too far without dribbling.  Like, a few flaps or whatever."

"What about me?" Quentin grins, "I'm pretty much in the all of the above categroy. Except for the racehorse thing. Some of those are way easier to do than others, though. Might be best if I sit out too..." He shrugged, he didn't much mind either way. This promised to be entertaining enough with or without playing.

David realizes his bumble a little too late. "Now that I think about it, the dribble every few flaps might make this incredibly uncomfortable..but I'm still willing to try..we might have to make up our game..."

"You?  You get to finish explaining the rules to Blitzkrieg, get him interested in playing, and then step in for me when I get tired of losing."



"No travels for the first five minutes.  You'll be fine, man.  C'mon."  Dillon shot a reassuring grin and held out his hands for Prodigal to check the ball and start the game.

In reply to Comstock (msg #134):

"Bah. Three against one? This bores me. The other team must have a handicap if they are to face any team I am on." The doctor removes its coat, hands it unceremoniously to Wolfson, and then pulls out handcuffs. With daft flexibility, the doctor cuffs its right hand to the back of its belt. "Incidentally, I am right handed. When we crush you, you will have no right to cry how unfair it was. No more talk. Let us begin. Now!" Zero rushes toward Prodigal, intent on steeling the ball.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:17, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

David grabs the ball and checks it, smiling the whole time. "I think Quentin could play on our team...whoa!" He yelps when Zero steals the ball.
"Uh..Dr.Zero....we don't have everything set yet...come back!"

Zero gingerly shoots the ball... and it bounces off the rim. He turns around. "Oh? Am I jumping the gun? My bad." Picks up ball and tosses back to Prodigal.

(OOC: I am experimenting with the die roller. Am I doing this right?
13:24, Today: Dr. Zero failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 7 with rolls of 3. Dr. Zero Mega-Dex to shoot.
13:23, Today: Dr. Zero failed (1 failure) using 9d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 7 with rolls of 1,5,3,1,7,7,4,1,2. Dr. Zero's shoot at the hoop, reg Die.
13:20, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 22 using the Unisystem system (1d10+13). B-Ball Initiative . )

Dr. Zero's display confuses Samuel. He turns to Quentin. "So... y-y-you're supposed to play w-w-with one arm behind your b-back?"

Quentin shook his head, "I think he's giving himself a handicap. The basics are pretty simple: put the ball through the hoop. You get varying amounts of points depending on how far away you are from the basket when you shoot. There are some movement restrictions, dribbling has to be kept up most of the time. I'm not sure what the best way to adapt it to being superhuman is though..."

"So when and how do we start this? " David asks looking around

"Anytime you like.  Start dribbling, say the word, and game is on."  Dillon positioned himself between Dr. Zero and Phantasm.  "If the Doc starts winning too much we'll put in Blitzkrieg and Gravitas on your team."  He shot Dr. Zero a thumbs up to make sure he was ready, then shot one to Phantasm.

Imp picks up the bouncing ball, shall we start now?

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
i think that the teams should roll dex+athletics, then total their successes, the team with the most sux wins that game and gets to describe their heroic drubbing of the other side.  Best of 3?  We can incorperate our sneaky nova trickery into our descriptions, how does that sound?

---

Sounds like a good suggestion Imp.  We'll do it that way, resolve the game, describe the cool moves, and then start up the next day's training.

The Doctor crouches, ready to sprint after the ball. "If you please," the voice purrs in a soft Baritone. The handcuffs jingle in the evening breeze.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
05:43, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 5 successes using 9d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 6 with rolls of 4,6,8,2,6,7,1,6,1.
05:42, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 5 successes using 9d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 6 with rolls of 2,6,1,10,10,10,1,5,8.
05:42, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 5 successes using 9d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 6 with rolls of 7,6,2,6,1,1,3,8,9. Dr.0 B-Ball Roll 1 )MegaDex lower Target.
Best 3 out of 3 is 5 successes. I'll describe his moves after others roll.

Edit: Woops! I forgot the handicap for acting with the wrong hand. Be right back...
Edit: Huh. Apparently a character is considered ambidextrous automatically if he/she has Mega-Dexterity (Ab: pg 248). Sooooo... the Doctor's theatrics have no point mechanically! Yeah! I guess he's just a big ham. Hopefully, none of the Mega-Dex characters point this out in the future. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

Edit: (3rd time's the charm?) I think I did the rolls wrong, as another poster pointed out in the Introduction post, Difficulty & Target Number are not the same.

Avilister:

As a note, Mega-attribute dice can lower the difficulty of a roll, but not the target number, which are different. It's rather like Exalted's system in that sense. If you're facing something you need multiple successes to do, you can forgo rolling Mega-Att dice to lower the difficulty, but I can't think of anything in the Aberrant ruleset that changes target numbers (unlike Exalted, which has a few).

So I would have 2 Successes in Roll 1, 4 Successes on Roll 2, and 3 Successes on Roll 3. Since I can not use the Mega-Dex Die to lower the Difficulty (as it is an opposed roll), I will roll it now.

13:06, Today: Dr. Zero failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 5. Dr.0 Mega-Dex B-Ball 3.
13:06, Today: Dr. Zero failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6. Dr.0 Mega-Dex B-Ball 2.
13:05, Today: Dr. Zero failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 5. Dr.0 Mega-Dex B-Ball 1.

No Successes for Mega-Dexterity. Sorry about misunderstanding the system.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 11:16, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

10:22, Today: Comstock rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 1,7,2,6.
10:22, Today: Comstock rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 10,10,1,4.
10:22, Today: Comstock failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,6,3,1.

Best of three is two successes, though the first roll was a botch.

---

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

Rolled my mega-dex separately.
You rolled 4 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((2,6,10,2,6,1,7,2,7,7)).
You failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((6)).
=4

You rolled 3 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((7,1,4,5,3,3,6,4,9,9)).
You rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((10)).
=6

You rolled 2 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((3,1,8,2,3,1,7,5,3,2)).
You rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((9)).
=4

---

Prodigal is having difficulty posting his rolls, and is going to be out for a day or two, so I'm going to post his rolls for him until he states otherwise.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You rolled 2 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((1,4,4,4,9,6,8))
You rolled (4) successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((5,9,10,7,3,2,5)).
You rolled 4 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((10,4,8,7,7,2,4)).

---

Edit: It occurs to me that people using actual powers should be rolling those along with their rolls... I'm going to add that in for prodigal here, and then tally up the totals for teams
Edit: It made only a 2 success diff on roll 2.

Since Imp is the last one left, I will roll his rolls and post results:

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You rolled 7 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((10,4,10,9,9,8,9,9,2,2)).
You rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((8)).

You rolled 5 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((3,8,9,8,2,1,9,8,4,4)).
You failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((5))

You rolled 5 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((5,8,3,7,7,2,2,8,9,1)).
You rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((9)).

---

Impetus got weirdly high rolls (9/5/7).  He's the MVP for the games.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:18, Tue 07 Apr 2009.

Results are in!

Imp and Prodigal: 11/9/11 (assuming no momentum control)

Comstock/Zero/Phantasm: 7/12/7

Feel free to write up your cool plays.  Impetus was the high roller for the game, pretty much across the board.  He could have rolled even higher with powers added in.

Hard games.

Dillon had solid fundamentals.  He had been playing since he was nine, off and on, and still played occasionally for the joy of it.  But no amount of fundamentals could prepare him for the raw speed and maneuverability of his opposition.  First move out his muscles were still stiff, his reactions slow.  He reached to steal the ball from Prodigal only to land on his skull, leaving the center of the court wide open.  Dr. Zero isn't going to like this, he thought to himself, picking himself off the floor.  He felt fine, but the floor was somewhat fractured.

Second game, Dillon found himself again.  He still couldn't compete, but after losing six points to the dynamic duo, he decided he'd had enough.  He grounded himself and got in Impetus' face, body checking the nova hard.  Bad form, maybe, but there was no way he could compete for raw speed or technique.  The ball sailed away, and Phantasm and Dr. Zero managed to score before Impetus could really recover his senses.

By the third round, all the momentum was back.  Dillon might as well not have been there.  Prodigal was moving full speed and wasn't unsure of the rules anymore, and Impetus moved with freakish speed.  "That's it guys.  We're done, he called, watching the Angel-winged nova slam dunk one more time.

"Good game ... I guess Superman and the Flash have some competition."  He wasn't really winded, but he definitely didn't have anymore patience for the game.  Next to the others, he might as well have been standing still.  Felt good to work up a sweat, though.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Just going out on a limb and assuming that the totals below indicate three games/rounds, with Imp and Prodigal winning the first and last.  Not sure if this is what was intended, but hey, that's what edits are for.

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This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

ooc..not quite gone yet, thanks for the rolls and understanding folks.

David was excited to play for the first time in quite a while, the best way he figured so far was repeated give and go with Impetus, the best maneuver by far was the rather difficult fake he managed to pull on Dillon, he passed the balled to Impetus immediately after Dillon hit his head on the blacktop and made sure he was ok without rubbing it in his face that he pulled the move.

Second game David had figured he should actually try to dribble and not rely on passing all the time to someone who he knew could end up wherever he threw the ball, and mishandle quite a few times.

Third, Why fight what works David thought to himself and stuck to giving the ball where it should and he finally managed to start moving like he should be able to flying to and fro, actually making it a team instead of the Impetus show, at least now it was the Impetus and his little buddy Prodigal show.  He found that he could pull of some pretty interesting slams from 50 ft up.

"Great game everyone," David said with an exuberant smile, sweating from his efforts.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

Jason had never done this before, could never have done this.  Impetus grinned like a maniac.  His body did things that he could hardly even imagine, doing exactly what he wanted at exactly the right time, without even having to think about it.  This is what it's like to be one of those guys, he thought to himself.  Dillon was a very solid player, someone who would have destroyed the Jason that was, but he could only stop Imp occasionally.  When the game was over Imp was flushed with the high of competition, and of victory.  "that was great guys, next time though lets do some ball hockey or something."  As imp made his way back to his room he caught sight of the female soldier from earlier that day.  The perfect way to end a perfect day, he thought, then smiled winningly, automatically taking on the gait and mannerisms of what she thought was the sexiest man alive.

Samuels eyes widened in amazement as he watched the display. When it was all over, all he could say was "Whoa." He really didn't have much else to say. He didn't even want any exercise; watching novas play basketball was more than enough! Deciding to hit the hay, he bid everyone goodnight and went to his room. On the way, he saw Impetus chatting up a female soldier. He smiled and thought Might need some earplugs tonight. He crawled into bed, tossed and turned for a while, then went to sleep, anxiously awaiting the morning.

Phantasm was good.  Either "played a little in school" meant she was a national champ, or her eruption greatly enhanced her capabilities.  Either way, she was the speed on her team, weaving around the court, stealing the ball from her opponents, and racing it to her teams basket before the others could catch her... but nonetheless, she couldn't keep up with Impetus.  He was on fire.  And hot... Occasionally she would stare a little too long, or get a little too close and... woops, there the ball went, snatched away when she wasn't paying attention.

When she noticed what she was doing, and how she was responding, Phantasm got angry, which screwed up her game in the last round.  With little more than a muttered "good game" she headed back to her room, still fuming. Though whether she was angry over her loss, or her loss of control, is anyone's guess.

Dillon watched Phantasm leave and turned to Dr. Zero.  "What was that about?"  He was breathing deeply, enjoying the feeling of exertion, but it didn't take much to read that something was off.  "She really doesn't talk much, does she?"

He gathered up the ball.  "Hey, it looks like we've only got a few hours before four, so I'm probably just going to hang here for a bit.  You want in?"  He gestured with the ball towards Quentin.  "I mean, you said you don't get tired or anything."  He was wasting time.  Avoiding sleep.  Killing stomach-butterflies and thinking while he moved.

Zero runs up, obviously winded. "Wuuuuuu...! Damn good game <pant> gentlemen <pant> and lady." The handcuffs jingle behind him.



"Bah. We're just warming up. <Wheeze.> Do you hear that, Mr. Pet?!" Zero tries to straighten up and points forcefully at Impetus. "I am on to you! I see your weakness! <Cough! Cough!> Next time, Mr. Pet! Next time!"



Zero takes Prodigal's hand and gives it a hard handshake. "Good game. You're teamwork and troubleshooting are impressive, Mr. Gal. Most impressive."



Zero takes Impetus hand and gives it the tight handshake of an Olympic weightlifter. He doesn't let go until he is done speaking and every bone in Impetus hand and wrist is adjusted. "Very good game, Mr. Pet. Very good. You must be great to defeat any team Zero is on. I have learned a lot. But mark my words, you will play Basket Ball again, and we will crush you." He releases Impetus' hand and gives a low chuckle while slapping Impetus shoulder like a pachyderm playing with a ball.



Zero takes back his coat from Wolfson and rummages for his handcuff keys. After un-cuffing himself, he puts one hand on Wolfson's should and says, "I am drafting you for the next game, Mr. Wolfson. We will need you on 'Team Stock' to humble Impetus! Thank you for holding my coat. Good night." Zero tips his hat and moves on.



Zero was about to shake Phantasm's hand when she mumbled, turned, and walked away. He stands there a moment with his hand out. "Good game?" He lamely offers after her.



Zero watches the lovely Nova walk away, and shrugged to Comstock's comment. "The only thing I know about women is that they are all crazy. And right. That is the key to having a relationship with a lady." Zero turns around and shakes Comstock's hand. "It was a good game, Mr. Dillon." The doctor leans in close. "I believe our lovely poltergeist was distracted by our opponent's ass, and wasn't too happy about it." The doctor chuckles ruefully between them.

Zero strokes his chin, thoughtfully. "I think, before the next game, I shall execute Plan B. I shall sneak into Mr. Pet's quarters the night before our next game, cover his face with honey, and release a swarm of killer bees. Even with his heightened Nova healing, he should be swollen and stung the next game, and ugly enough to no longer distract our female champion. Yes. This amuses me. You're thoughts, Mr. Stock?" All of this is says in earshot of a leaving Impetus.



The doctor stretches. "Well, I, sadly, still have too far a mortal stamina to keep up with you two. Good night, gentlemen." Zero leaves to his quarters.

While walking through the hallways, he sees Impetus flirting with one of the female guards. He stops to scribble something on his office letter head. As he walks by, Zero smacks the back of Impetus' head with the paper and puts in into Impetus' hands before he can react. "You've been a bad boy, Mr. Pet. But the good news is that the pills on that prescription should clear it up in a month. The listed spray..." Zero points to a section on the paper in Impetus' hands "will clear them up. Oh, and no dairy for a while. It will inflame it. Good night, Mr. Pet. Miss." The Doctor tips his hat to them both and walks down the halls, whistling.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

Quentin stood from where he'd been sitting. "I suppose I could. Don't really have much else to do for the moment. I do still get tired, by the way. Fatigued, really. I can be exhausted, I just don't really need to sleep." He screws his face up for a moment, "Its kinda weird."

He walked out onto the court at the half-court line, stood at the edge and stared towards one corner and then the next, as if getting a feel for the size of the court, "I haven't actually played much - maybe a bit in high school PE classes, but nothing since then." He shrugged, "Been too busy in school to get much excersise. Now I don't need it thanks to whatever supercharging this thing does to our bodies," he taps his head, indicating the node.

Impetus grins as Zero walks away.  He turns to the soldier, Mary, and, with an amused chuckle, explains about the recent basketball game.  Ordinarily he would have played down his role in the game, but he knew Mary really like cocky braggadocio so he gave her just enough information to be suitably impressed, as well as intrigued as he lead her back to his room.

"Yeah ... I don't break like I used to.  Things don't hurt, don't feel as much.  Probably should sleep, but it doesn't bother me as much as it used to."  He dribbled idly.  "This whole place has got me wound up.  Lights everywhere."

He passed the ball to Quentin, playing for a few rounds before the game wore thin.  In between points he made small talk, tried to find some common ground.  "So, I came along because I don't have many options, but why'd you join Project Utopia anyway?  Guy like you, big science, master of the universe ... you really think we're gonna be doing the right thing?  Heroes?"  It was the question of the evening, the anticipated crucible.

---

Eventually Dillon relented, grabbing half an hour of sleep himself  By 3:50 in the morning he was showered, shaved, dressed, and a little more calm.  Feeling adventurous and eager to start training, he positioned himself outside Solitaire's door and waited for 4 A.M. or further instructions.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: I would love to have a full conversation here on the nature of humanity, mutations, etc. but I also don't want to hold up the whole game.

---

At 3:55 Solitaire's alarm went off. She rolled over and hit the snooze button, a little harder than she meant too, she thought blearily, shaking the remnants of the clock, and table it had been resting on, from her hand. Solitaire mumbled "5 more minutes...." then rolled back over and was asleep in seconds, if she had even been awake at all.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
@Comstock, As your standing right there, you might have heard the alarm beep a few times, and would have heard a loud crash as it was terminated without mercy. :D

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This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

Dillon ducked, startled by the sudden violence beyond Solitaire's door.  "The hell?  She wasn't kidding."  He looked back and forth to see if anyone else was coming to wake Solitaire.  The last thing he wanted was to enter and try to rouse the nova himself.  He didn't want to be that guy, trying to keep everyone on task and running to the front of the classroom and reading every line of instructions.  He also wanted to get the morning off to a good start.  He waited five minutes.  Just past 4:00 AM, he knocks tentatively at the door.

At 345 Imp stuch his head out of the door, then ushered Mary to make a break for it.  He hadn't had much sleep but wasn't feling the effects of a lack of sleep too badly.  He grabbed a very quick shower and made his clothes take on thee appearance of a track suit.  Then he sauntered out the door, hoping that breakfast was just around the corner.

Samuel was going to need to get used to sleeping next door to so many novas. With all these powers on the same hallway, it's probably going to be a nightmare to get to sleep. He got up, and looked over his eufiber clothing, undecided as to whether he should where it or not. In the end he donned it anyway, thinking he wouldn't have time to change before training. He weaved it into some nondescript fasion, not caring about his appearence so early. As he shuffled down the hall, he saw the female soldier sneaking out of Impetus' room. It was too early for him to care. He also saw Dillon tapping lightly on what he thought was... What was her name again? he thought, Solitare. That's it, Solitare. Feeling rather impish, he snuck up behind Dillon, banged as loudly as possible on Solitare's door, than ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.

A moment later, the door opens, revealing a very disgruntled looking Solitaire. Her hair is short and frazzled looking this morning, as well as a dirty blondish color. She's wearing a white tank-top, a matching pair of pajama-shorts, and a pronounced scowl. "Would you bloody keep it down! My heads..." She blinks for a moment, in the hall light, realizing she's not hung-over, then looks around, realizing this isn't her old apartment. "Ah, right." She reaches up, running a hand through her hair. It lengthens and pales to its usual white as she does so.

Solitaire's gaze finally settles on Comstock, still annoyed at being woken up, she grunts. "What do you want? Make it quick, I've gotta be up at 4."

"Uh, it's four.  Reveille.  Time to move."  Dillon's skin gleamed, anticipating an impending press of the snooze button.  Still, better him than another.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:20, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

"Cant be 4, I had my alarm set... Ah." She turns her head, regarding the wreckage of her nightstand and clock. " Your lucky you just knocked... Well, now I'm up, might as well stay that way..." Solitaire yawns, "Thanks for the wake up call, I guess. I'm gonna go grab a shower,  back in ten." She closes the door, grabs a cold shower to wake up, and gets dressed, much the same way as yesterday, most of her clothes were like that. She grabs her schedule and map, folds then up and puts them in her back pocket, then takes her coat down from the closet, throws it on and steps back out.

Samuel is listening to the exchange from down the hall a ways. "Hmph." he grumbles. That wasn't nearly as earth shattering as I hoped it would be. Ah well, guess I'll grab some breakfast.

At 4:05am, soldiers come to your rooms.

"We're here to escort you.  Please follow us."

The soldiers take you to the front of your dorm building, where Lt. Kovich, Mr. Walker, Frostburn, and several other troops are waiting for you. Your are directed by your escorts to line up in a row facing your trainers.

"Nice to see everyone up and energetic this morning. Today, we are going to test your endurance to the limit.  This is not to break you, nor is this to torture you.  This is to prove to you that you are now more than what you were.  You need to understand just how different you are now, and what stresses you are capable of enduring.

Novas are rare ladies and gentlemen, and those Novas fighting to make the world a better place are even more rare.  You will be called upon to work, without rest or respite, for days at a time.  It is not uncommon for the primary team to be split between several continents at once, rescuing people from disasters, diffusing hostage situations, and working to clean the environment.  Though teleporters are used, sometimes they are occupied by a prolonged rescue mission... In which case the team still has to travel.  But instead of a smooth and rapid teleport, they must use slower means of travel. The travel may be across the rooftops of a city to diffuse a hidden bomb, or for the fliers among you, it may be transporting a group of your teammates at mach 5 towards a natural disaster.  You will invariably get tired.  But you cannot quit.  And you need to know, when such situations arise, that you are up to the challenge.

So.  Back to the agenda for today.  Actually for tomorrow as well.  And the next day.  You will be required to stay awake for the next 72 hours.  During this time you will be constantly active.  You will begin your day today with a nice 20 mile jog.  After that, you will have a break to eat a nutritious MRE.  Following this, Dr. Bharati will administer several problems for you to solve. Yes, I know you already have had a basic psych workup.  These problems will however be a bit different, more educational.  And they will be a group activity.

After your tests, which should take about 2 hours, you will have the wonderful opportunity to study your training material for 3 hours.  You will have these little breaks throughout the next three days.  Study well, because those that fail will either have to leave the program, or will be forced to endure another 3 days of hell... along with their teammates of course.

After this, we will undertake a small construction project.  We will set up the large swimming pool that you will be doing laps in later.  With people of your talents, that shouldn't take more than a day or two... Though if it does, we can just extend the 72 hours.

Good luck everyone.  If you're hurt, we have a medical doctor specializing in nova physiology to treat you... But I think you will be surprised by your own abilities."

At this, Mr. Walker sedately walks from the training ground, back into the chow hall, from which you can all smell the delicious aroma of breakfast.  Which you haven't had this morning.

"Stand at attention people! Stop slouching.  I don't care what time it is, when you are representing your organization, you better look alert, competent, and happy to be doing your job!

You, Impetus, snap to!  Wipe that grin off your face and look like you're competent enough to save the world, because that is what the world expects of you.

You, Phantasm, I don't care what problems you have, ditch the attitude or we ditch you.  Don't take your baggage on missions, it will get someone killed.

The rest of you... Pay attention.

We're going to run now.  I want you to remember where you are going on this run.  At the end, I want you to know this base by heart.  Later, you will be asked to find things at various locations, without maps.  If you can't do it, then you and your team will add another 5 miles to your run.  For each location.

Lets go!"

Lt. Kovich hops into the Jeep, along with another soldier who starts it and begins driving.  She apparently is going to be shadowing you as you run.

She pulls out a laptop and begins doing work on it.

What a great way to start the day. Solitaire thought. Still, its only 20 miles, should be easy enough. Of course, She'd never run 20 miles in one go, at 4AM no less, but she was confident she could. She had gone to the gym once or twice a week for the past few years, and had been in pretty good shape, and that was before she Erupted. She stifled a yawn, kicked her boots into a more comfortable position and did a couple stretches.

"So they want to see what we can do, eh. Lets show them then, and learn for ourselves." Solitaire grins, and takes off at an easy jog.

Dr. Zero remains quite & observant for Dan Walker's briefing. When Lt. Anne Kovich gives her orders, Zero follows strictly & without comment. The doctor allows the rest of the group to move ahead & hangs back for a while, taking in the landmarks near the base and on the trail. If anyone listens, they will hear doctor mumble the landmarks to itself. The hour is hellish, but the morning air is crisp & invigorating. There is no sea of people to press & push on you. Thoughts drift freely here. This is a welcome change from NY City.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:09, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

Phantasm jumps slightly when she hears her name.  She squints at the woman yelling at her, but does as she's told and stands at attention.  When the lecture is over, and the jeep starts moving, she jogs alongside it, settling into the pace that she would be maintaining for the next several hours.

Turning to Dillon as she jogs: "How was the game last night after I left?  You and Quentin get any playtime in?"

"Yeah ... it was good.  I'm going to have to get faster for this," he panted, pacing himself.  "He gets tired.  He just doesn't need sleep.  Next three days will be easy for him."

The Doctor's head tilts up hearing this. He picks up the pace to catch up with them. "Oh? Faster? I think you need to play up to your strengths more, Mr. Stock." The Doctor reaches into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulls out a small flask. It has a skull and crossbones sticker on it. The thick liquid inside is dark & silver in color and sloshes about lazily.

"Mercury. Quicksilver. Quacksalber! Because I am a quack. You might want to try this," Zero holds up the flask for emphasis, "and see if a quicksilver form could offer enhanced reflexes & speed. I am not sure about the outcome, but it might be dangerous to touch 'Baselines' while in a mercury form. I can do tests, but that is getting ahead of myself."  Zero places the vial into a little plasic case with a foam interior and hands to out to Comstock. "I only ask to be there when you wish to try it to observe."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:16, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

Dillon caught the case and tucked it into his pocket.  "Uh ... thanks."  Zero had a point.  He hadn't tried playing with different metals yet.  Hadn't even thought about it.

After a few hours of conversation, it is obvious that Quentin is still trying to decide what, exactly, his stance is. He views Project Utopia as a whole as a sponsor for his scientific inquiries. It is clear that he's been putting his highly advanced cognitive abilities to the test in coming up with various research projects, none of which he's had a chance to act upon as of yet. He's remarkably apt at explaining most of them in layman's terms if prompted. He also views the power he's gained as a responsibility, but not a burden. He's simultaneously afraid of and excited about leaving baseline humanity behind in the epic race that is evolution.

---

Once Dillon opts to catch a short nap before they've been called up to meet at 4, Quentin returned to his room and unpacked some of the clothing he'd brought. He took a brief shower and then donned the closest thing he had to 'workout cloths'. A tshirt and a pair of shorts, along with a good broken in pair of tennis shoes.

He did his best to stand at attention, though he's obviously no soldier. He smirked at the tasks set before them. He wasn't totally sure about the running, though he suspected that he could probably do it, but the staying awake part was obviously amusing to him.

When prompted he started up running and kept to roughly the center of the pack, eyes probing the scenery as they went along. He tried to set a decent pace for himself that wouldn't tire him too quickly.

While also observing the scenery, he set his mind to planning the pool project. It would help to know a bit more about everyone's abilities before attempting to figure out the optimal method for construction. He knew several were capable of exerting a superhuman amount of force, many were very durable, and a variety of energy-related abilities were in play as well. His own gravitational abilities would be able to make moving large objects - either dirt used to make the hole the pool would fill or even exceptionally large things such as an entire pre-formed pool - much easier to move. Inertia would still have to be overcome, but Impetus's unique momentum abilities coupled with superhuman strength such as Solitaire possessed would make that virtually a non-issue.

It briefly occurred to him that he didn't know much about plumbing - a necessary factor for any well-made pool. He started trying to recall anything he'd ever known about plumbing as he planned the rest. Several other members of their recruit team hadn't said much about their powers, particularly Phantasm. It was impossible to figure out how they'd be able to contribute without knowing more about their abilities. Instead he could only factor in unknown abilities as a gigantic variable (tentatively N_p for "Nova Powers") and leave it unsolved for the moment.

Samuel didn't find all that exercise particualrly appetizing, but that problem solving stuff certainly did sound fun. When everyone started running, he decided to maintain a breezy pace, not too fast, not too slow. He used the time to reflect on all the opportunities and possibilities that lie before him.

20 miles?  3 days no sleep?  constant activity?  No sex breaks?  This was going to suck.
Imp started at a slow jog and fell in beside Samuel.. er Blitzkrieg.  Hey buddy, sleep well last night?  Imp inquired.  As his leg muscles stretched his gait became easier, arms swinging naturally and he moved with the economy of gait generally only seen in experienced marathoners, which was odd, seeing how he had never run more than 200 meters of his own free will before.

After about an hour of jogging, at somewhere around 5 miles/hour, the lieutenant picks up a bullhorn and begins yelling at you.

"Pick up the pace people!  No one is sweating, no one is even working hard, you might as well be walking!  Now, RUN!"

The jeep speeds up significantly.  Those with little athletic training are a bit hard pressed to keep up, but strangely no one is even winded (Quentin comes close, but despite a bit of panting, he holds up). Some of you likely have never ran this fast before, since modern life rarely requires such exertion, and none of you have ever done so for this long... You are actually running for the next 3 hours.  For those that now a bit about athletics, with the pace you are setting, every single one of you are beating the pace of world record holding Olympians... And several of you have barely begun to push yourselves.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I will keep up this discussion just a bit longer, maybe another 12hrs or so, just so that people can talk a bit more.  Then I will move on to your next challenges.  I don't want this to get boring, though it is important that your chars realize how different they actually are.  For example, I was even surprised when I looked at everyone's chars and found how mega-stam heavy the party was.  With your stats, you can run 5 minute miles all day and not get winded.  Your dex scores are the only real cap. Novas are scary.

---

"So ... Phantasm," he realized he didn't have a better name for her and could not remember if the folders and study materials he was given even had another name, "Thoughts on the costume freak?"  In earshot of Dr. Zero, naturally.  No one had ever accused Dillon of having a well-developed sense of humor.



"Sir!"  Dillon tried to kick up the pace.  He couldn't squeeze much more speed from his legs, and the result of trying began to leave deep ruts in the dirt and cracks in the pavement.  "Aw shit, he muttered, relaxing until his body resumed its usual mass.  "Are any of you feeling this?" he called to the team.  "Should we try this with weights next time?"  His breathing had ceased to be labored, falling into an easy pace that felt little different from normal.

Bored, he turned to Blitzkrieg.  "So ... I don't know how to ask, uh ... what's with the ... tendril-thing?"

Samuel picks up the pace without too much effort. "Oh hey, Imp-p-petus. Yea, I slept f-fine." He pauses for a moment. "I w-w-was hoping y-you could do me a f-f-favor."

"Nope.  Not feeling it a bit.  I used to be on the track team, and I was pretty good.  I liked sports... Anyway, I never could do anything like this.  We've been running at a pace no normal person could maintain for what?  A couple of hours now?  And the scary thing is that I'm just pacing you guys.  I know I could go a whole lot faster than this.  And some of the others probably could too.

Phantasm has been running like a machine for hours.  The only changes in her form have been to increase her speed to match the rest of the group, and her breathing has been as steady as if she were sitting and watching TV.  Or perhaps a little slower and more even actually, since this has been a pretty boring run so far.

As far as Zero goes, I'm not sure what to think.  Why do you try and look so inhuman unless that's actually what you want to be?  Unless he's just messed up, that's always a possibility.  Power can do that to you, make you lose perspective, do scary things, or make crazy people even more dangerous.  It... Yeah, anyway, it also kind of creeps me out that he's always picking at us, trying to analyze our powers."

The doctor looks around at the other Novas nervously. Zero puts a hand to the side of where its mouth might be, and talks low to Comstock & Phantasm. "Um, who are we talking about? There are a lot of 'costumed-' er, 'conformity-challenged' around us. Should we be talking about others this loud? I don't want people thinking I'm a degenerate bastard. At least not until I've had some alcohol."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:53, Fri 10 Apr 2009.

"This..." says Quentin to no one in particular, panting a bit more than the others, though still keeping up, "is what... I get... for spending... so much... time in a lab." He considered asking about power usage, but stopped himself before he did. He probably needed the excerse anyway, judging by how much better the others were doing. He was determined not to be a straggler or otherwise fall behind, though.

Despite his panting, Quentin was not sweating. He wondered at this a bit himself. Apparently whatever process had changed him to the extent of not needing to eat or sleep also extended to respiration. That made some sense, given that his intake of water over the last few weeks had been so low that it would have been fatal for any normal human. His system must be using it as efficiently as possible, which apparently didn't involve cooling via perspiring.

Solitaire felt good. The morning was crisp and pleasant, and the run felt invigorating, despite that fact that she wasn't dressed for it at all. She was running up front, so there was nobody to spoil her view, but she was nevertheless paying attention to the snippets of conversation going on around her.

"Come on Quentin, your doing fine." She says, dropping back a few paces to match him, and gives him a playful tap on the shoulder, though she was very careful about it. "You can make it." Then she lowers her voice a bit, making sure Lt. Megaphone couldn't hear. "You could always make yourself lighter as well, couldn't you?  If you're having trouble. Don't want to get exhausted in the first few hours of our Train-a-thon. Wouldn't do to have you lazing about while we build that pool." Solitaire laughs, and smiles encouragingly.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Since Zero's using purple as well, switching to pink

---

Quentin replied as quietly as he could, "Well... yes, I can... but I figured... that'd be cheating." He briefly estimated the force he was exerting on the ground and the equal-but-opposite reaction it would have on his upward trajectory. "Besides," he added, "if I did that... I'd probably start... bouncing, like the videos of... astronauts... on the moon."

He shrugged, or tried, given that he was also pumping his arms to keep running, "I just need... a few minutes to... catch my breath...

Once we're done."

"Some of us get enhanced physical abilities, others get more esoteric powers. No shame in using your skills. But you'll make it even without them. We wont leave you behind or anything, you can set the pace if you like. Long as it isn't too much slower than the jeep there." Solitaire felt for him. Here was Quentin, huffing and puffing and she wasn't even breathing hard. Of course, she couldn't really think of anything to help, other than offer encouragement.

"Well, heck... I've obviously... got some enhanced... physical abilities," he said in his own defense. "Any normal person... would have died... from a heart attack by now." His eyes slewed through the rest of the trainees and then back to Solitaire, "Apparently... I just didn't... pick up as much... in that area as everyone else." He opened his arms wide and took a deep breath.

"Still, its sort of crazy to think that at a slightly slower pace I could keep this up indefinately." He did some brief math in his head, "Any one of us could make it from New York to LA on foot in less than seven days. Some of you could probably do it in significantly less." If that trans-contenental revelation wasn't a somewhat harrowing thought, he wasn't sure what would be. No human could maintain that kind of pace. Not in the entire history of the race.

"Alright, end in sight guys!" Dillon called back.  "How you holdin' up Prodigal?"  He craned his head back to make sure they had not lost their quiet friend.  He felt pretty good.

Phantasm slows down enough to drop back with Quentin, and speaks softly...
"Significantly less... I estimate I could do it in maybe 3-4 days, depending on the route.  This is an exercise in boredom for us, but sometimes it takes doing something to make you realize what you should already know I guess.

You look kind of... flushed.  You going to be alright?  Do we need to slow down for you? Maybe carry you?"
Apparently that was a joke, since she smiles when she says it.

"That," Quentin said, "should not be necissary." He may be huffing and puffing, but he wasn't done. Not yet, anyway.

Impetus, bemused by the way his body was responding to all of this, turned to look at Sam.  "What's the favour my friend?  If it's within my capacity I'll give it a shot."  He then looked to Dillon, "Speed is over-rated, it's so easy to increase, or to take away.  For example," Imp's brow furrowed and

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Impetus rolled 3 successes using 6d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7. Momentum control. 4 quantum spent.

---

Dillon suddenly felt himself accelerating, he wasn't working any harder but he felt like he had a massive, slightly cool,  tailwind pushing him along at half again his original speed.  Strangely there was no wind.  "As long as you don't fight it you could theoretically keep accelerating until the end of the run, but I'm not sure, I'm still not very good at this."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
am i reading momentum transformation correctly?  The fluff seems to indicate that the target will accelerate indefinitely unless they chose to stop.  Am I wrong?

---

This message was last edited by the player at 04:43, Sun 12 Apr 2009.

Samuel watches Dillon slow slightly. "Hm," he says "I d-d-didn't think mom-mentum worked that w-w-way. Anyway, I was hop-p-p-ping that you could c-c-continue calling me 'Samuel' r-r-rather than my codename."

Your run is at an end.  For many of you, it was likely rather tedious.  As is the rest of your morning.  You end your race in front of the cafeteria, and are taken inside for your meals.  The food smells wonderful, but you have a meal already laid out at a large table. You are given MRE's to eat, and while food is being consumed, you are introduced to a set of puzzles (shape construction, math, blocks, story problems).  You were lied to when you were told that these would be interesting and different from your previous tests.  This is apparently just another endurance test of sorts, made to frustrate you and tire you out.

Everyone is not so evenly matched in this area, but you are allowed to watch one another and work together if you choose.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Setting the scene here.  I will let you guys have at least tomorrow on this portion of discussion, not sure how interesting you will find it, so I'm not reserving more.  Things of concern here probably inclued: 1)they aren't feeding you enough, and the food sucks, 2)upcoming problems to deal with, like making a swimming pool, 3)the puzzles you are working on, and the apparent supergeniuses amongst you (feel free to think up your own puzzles if you have something interesting, as you can tell this is a group effort, and everyone has been really creative so far, so I don't want to limit anybody).  Also, the results of the race might be interesting.  Man, there sure is a lot of megastam around the party. :)  If anyone has questions or concerns, or would like a new direction, let me know.  After your 72 hours, you will get a totally different training routine, and we will take some vacation into the city.

---

"of course."  Imp wasn't totally sure why Samuel wanted to be called Samuel, but if he so wished....
The mind puzzles were, well, marginally better than the run, but still nothing spectacular.  Imp breezed through most of them, save for a modestly challenging one that called upon him to design emergency exits from a new stadium meant to hold 100,000 people.
Imp was surprised at how quickly he was able to do most of the puzzles, logic problems, and math, but he had known that his computational abilities had increased remarkably for quite some time.  What really startled him was how much he knew about the arts.  He had always been modestly disinterested in those touchy feely subjects in school, but he found that he had near encyclopedic knowledge of things ranging from history to English Grammar.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:21, Sun 12 Apr 2009.

"Okay guys ... listen up and check this out."  Dillon proceeded to explain every trick he'd learned on how to eat the horrible mockery that was the MRE.  Start the heater like this ... keep it flat, not tilted ... save the crackers or oatmeal cookies for later ... always use the tabasco.  "We had to eat this crap in basic for a while, and then when I was in Qatar we had a month when the cafeteria was dead.  Nothing but 'beef and mushrooms' and 'chicken with rice.'  It'll keep you going.  Eat it all even if it tastes like your dog's puke."  With enough salt and tabasco added, Dillon dug into his meal with gusto.  He repeated the seasoning trick for anyone else who couldn't find a way to stomach the food.  Even seasoned, it was hard to get past the fact that "beef with mushrooms" had the consistency of wet dog food.

Hunger sated -- not nearly as nauseating as I remember -- Dillon set about performing the mental challenges.  He struggled with his math and story problems, at one point trying to cheat off of Quentin only to discover that their problems were different.

Solitaire picked at the MRE, sometimes managing to force down a bite. "Jeez, this is vile." Comstock's advice didn't seem to help. She'd been living off bad food for a while in college, but it had bottomed out at Cup-o-Noodles, and she found herself thinking longingly of those times. "If they're expecting us to live of this for all of training, I'm flying to Vegas for some real food. I'll be happy to take orders, if you like." She pushes it away, deciding it was better to simply go hungry. She would deal with it.

She picks up a Rubiks Cube, and starts toying with it, confident she could do it now. Fifteen minutes later, a very frustrated Solitaire pops the little squares off and puts them back on in the correct places. Satisfied, she sets it back down on the table, where one of the corner pieces falls off, she picks it up and jams it back in. "Vengence is mine." She mutters, looking satisfied.

Quentin picked at one of the MREs as well, and was extremely greatful that whatever changes his metabolism had undergone precluded the need to eat. He willingly handed over the remains to anyone that wanted them.

When it came to the puzzles, Quentin almost laughed, but managed not to. His expression was definitely amused. Quentin briefly amused himself by developing unconventional and very out-of-the-box solutions to the problems he'd been given. Despite the large number of tests they'd been given, he finished absurdly quickly. By the time he was done, he'd designed the basic floor plan for the first five stories of a skyscraper (including notes for where wiring, plumbing, and the like should be run), drawn a schematic for a new and more efficient motherboard suited for bleeding edge computer technology, written the beginnings of a unique proof to Fermat's Last Theorem and briefly described how one would perform an appendectomy.   The latter was written in Chinese, mostly just to frustrate anyone that would be looking at them later.  Most of these he ended with the words "Further work is left as an exercise for the reader :)"

Then he fell back on his TA training and started to help out anyone that was having any problems. Quentin, apparently, had knowledge relating to almost any academic field of endeavor and backed it all with a fairly well-concealed - but obviously overwhelming when unveiled - intellect.

Samuel ate the MRE without complaint, though there were many things to complain about. The puzzles aren't gonna be fun either, he thought. He looked around and saw Solitare cheating, and Quentin barely stiffling his laughter. Samuel decided to start with the rubix cube. After a few cautious turns, he set it down and looked at it. Hard. A moment later he smiled, picked it up, and finished it with little effort. He was about to move on to the electrical puzzle when his tendril lashed out and fried it. Maybe those aren't the best ones to try.

Lt. Anne Kovich:

"Pick up the pace people!  No one is sweating, no one is even working hard, you might as well be walking!  Now, RUN!"

Despite knowing the repercussions, Dr. Zero goes into an all out run, wishing to know the extent of personal limits and to see if they can be surpassed. With superhuman reflexes the doctor briefly outpacing several teammates, but it is only a matter of time before the relatively weaker endurance begins to fail, and everyone passes on by. Masochistically Zero pushes on at a sloppy jog.

The good doctor arrives last, huffing and dragging deep breaths before finally stopping. The low wheezing of the gas mask makes the sight almost comical or disturbing.

Zero's body jerks with adrenalin even after taking a seat on the naked ground, having a hard time resisting the motions it has forced itself into for so long. The Nova was now gifted with an unnatural stamina that exceeds an Olympic athlete, but only barely, and the hellish run, food deprivation, and lack of sleep was pushing the Nova beyond previous limits, and was unhealthy. The doctor finds a comfortable place to sit and crudely maneuvers into a lotus position. After several minutes of controlled breathing Zero's ragged body regains composer. The Nova slowly, achingly walks over to the others just in time to hear Comestock's advice, and sits to eat the rations. Zero follows the advise while preparing the ration before crushing and smashing the food into a tin cup and then draining the disgusting paste in a hose that attaches to the gas mask.

When Zero walks by Solitaire putting her rubrics cub back together, the doctor stops and says "I see you've conquered your Gorgon's Knot. Good thinking."

The Nova turns around and addresses everyone. "If we are allowed to help each other, than we should. The quicker we finish the puzzles, the quicker, and longer, we can all rest. I don't know about you, but I am bushed." Anyone who asks for Zero's help receives it, and they breeze through the puzzles at at least a third of the time. After finishing all the puzzles, the doctor collapses on the spot and immediately starts to snore like an idle chainsaw.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Sun 12 Apr 2009.

Phantasm doesn't look at other people's puzzles, and doesn't ask for help.  She finishes them all, and does so only slightly slower than Zero and Quentin.

Her puzzles include designing an pollution free way of life, making as many unique geometric designs as possible with a set of 13 small, oddly shaped cut-outs, calculating how to hit a target 1 mile away with a thrown rock, and how to survive on and escape from a desert island.

"Do we get to make the pool yet?  I'd like to swim."

Agreed, this is supposed to be a team building activity, i assume, and nothing builds esprit de corps faster than breaking the rules.  It looks like Dr. Z and Quentin can do this with their eyes closed, anybody else need a hand?

"Well, it depends if this is a team-building exercise, or a way to determine our abilities. That being said, this isn't really my thing." Solitaire reaches a hand into her coat and takes out her cards. She sets the box on the table and begins shuffling idly. She hated math, the story problems were both lame and confusing, If your bus is traveling north at 40 mph, and another bus is going south at 60 mph, how long till you notice you've missed your stop? What? The oddly shaped blocks and things were interesting though, Solitaire had an eye for patterns, came with art school. That aside though, she was quickly becoming bored with this. She bridged the cards one last time, dealt them into eight piles, and began to play.

Samuel wasn't as smart as a few of the others, but he was clever. He decided to stick to less... intellectual puzzles. He almost had fun devising methods of infiltration, tracking, and sabotage.

"Uh ... I could use a hand."  Dillon was nervously tapping his pencil.  He had a pair of physics problems, related to how to construct an engine.  He had correctly sketched every part necessary for an internal combustion engine, but had no idea how to perform integrals and thereby handle fuel distribution.

Similarly, his scratch work on another problem, solving some of the engineering problems in constructing the Chunnel, was useless.  He could build the drilling apparatuses, explain how each part worked on the others, suggest a means of extracting the raw material and design a system of conveyors to remove earth from the passage, but he couldn't calculate worth a damn.  Anything more than the basic four functions and a bit of algebra intimidated him.  He'd sketched out a circuit board on the paper instead of actually doing his work and drawn a few spiral designs.

Solitaire:

"Well, it depends if this is a team-building exercise, or a way to determine our abilities."

While fiddling with a puzzle the doctor comments absently, "Teamwork is one of the most powerful abilities of Humans. Novas would do well to learn from that."

Comstock:

"Uh ... I could use a hand."

The 'Good Doctor' limps over and quietly looks over Comstock’s blueprints & plans. "You have an eye for perspective..." Zero comments absently. The doctor helps bang through the formulas, sharing some methods Zero uses to remember which formula to use, and makes a copy of Zero's own formula cheat sheet. "Memory is a fickel lady. The designs strike me as efficient and practical. I believe a Baseline workforce could use this to speed up production with or without Nova assistance. If our calculations are correct, we could have such a workforce operate during the Novas’ down time & easily quadruple the production."

Latter, Zero begins to thrash after sleeping for several minuets.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:23, Sun 12 Apr 2009.

After examining some of Dillon's work, Quentin is intrigued. "This is interesting. You've been able to design and sketch these things but you don't know how to do the math behind it?" He glanced at the circuit board schematic and examined the engine sketches. He tried to assemble the parts Dillon had sketched in his head, they should work. "This looks like it should work, I just find it odd that you don't know how to do the math behind it. Usually that would be required for this sort of thing. Did you learn to do this sort of thing academically? They should have taught stuff like this along with the math to back it up."

After people are just past the point of mind-numbing boredom, Mr. Walker comes into the cafeteria, followed by Frostburn and a young soldier.

"Well ladies and gentlemen, you are still going, glad to see that a little bit of work wasn't too much for you. Well, except for him [points at Dr. Zero]... You might want to wake him up before the good lieutenant makes you run another 20 miles.

Now that we've had a warm-up, I think it is time to get started on your construction project.  Frostburn will supervise you, in case someone gets in a bit over their head, and Private Gordon here will pass on any materials requests to the Lieutenant, who will then bring you whatever you need.

If there are no questions, I advise you get to work.  Sooner you're done, sooner you'll be able to get your laps in.

Enjoy."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Your task is to make an olympic size pool.  You have no instructions, and no construction equipment.  Any materials will be provided for you, with a mild delay to go and get the stuff. Your tasks include setting up the design, adjusting for site based difficulties, figuring out the materials, digging the hole, and constructing the actual pool.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 23:50, Sun 12 Apr 2009.

Dillon shrugged and tried to explain his thinking on each problem.  "I graduated high school, but my test scores weren't good," he muttered sheepishly.  "Since the whole accident and," he gestured to his forehead to suggest his Eruption, "stuff just ... I don't know ... like, I can see it, you know?  Just, this turns and that moves and charge moves from here to here."  He gestured with his hands a lot.  Frustration.  He pointed to the circuit board.  "Like, this thing ... I don't know what it does.  I don't know that it does anything.  And I can't finish these problems."



"About damn time."  Dillon chucked his pencil across the room, raised his hands to give Samuel and Solitaire high-fives (they seemed as bothered by the mental work as he) and hopped to his feet.  Without hesitation he hoisted Dr. Zero over his shoulder and made to leave ... then turned around.  "Uh ... Quentin ... Gravitas," he said quietly, "when we finish with this basic stuff, do you think you could help me?"  With the math.  And science.  It was a hard thing for Dillon to ask, embarrassing enough that he didn't want the rest of the team to hear.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
This is Intelligence 1, Mega-Intelligence 1 and the Mental Prodigy: Engineering enhancement at work, for those curious.

---

Impetus rolled his shoulders as he stood up. Today was not going well, he was tired, hungry, sweaty, and jonesin for a big juicy steak with a couple baked potatoes and a pint of a nice hoppy german beer.  Several of the latter.  Maybe after getting this pool done they could indulge a bit in Vegas, Imp had done some modeling so had a fair bit of cash tucked away in the bank for just such an occasion.
When they got to the site Imp scanned the area, taking in the ugliness of the military buildings, their drab colours, straight lines, total lack of aesthetics.  he could do better, would do better.  He walked over to a table that had been set up, replete with pencils, papers, a laptop, drafting tools, all the bells and whistles.  He checked the computer and noticed that it had a hugely powerful 1.2 gig processor and a 40 gig hd.  Funny, according to Wired the top of the line was a 1 gig with a 32gig hd. weird.
Imp set to work, sketching, running numbers, consulting with his team mates.  This was their chance to make a meaningful contribution to the project, something more than doing some trivial mental tasks and running around in the desert before dawn.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Used mega int to lower the target number by 1, rolled 3 sux (fickle die roller!) then analyzed the plans using analyze weakness to improve the design. Second roll scored 7 sux (IIRC 10s count as 2 sux, no?)

---

Imp looked to the others who had gathered around the table.  "What do you think, anybody see anything that doesn't work?  These last two tasks were pretty fucking boring, lets see if we can make this one good enough to get a full weekend at some highroller suites in Caesar's."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Mon 13 Apr 2009.

"Finally, too much thinking, not enough doing for my taste." Solitaire returns Comstocks high five as she gets up. She follows Imp to the site, taking in the plot, kicking the ground experimentally, and otherwise just looking around. She takes off her jacket, setting it on the table in the least cluttered coner, kicks a shovel up off the ground and catches it deftly, setting it on her shoulder. "I'll leave the planning to you guys who dig this kinda thing. Just say where and how deep, and we'll get this done."

"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

Phantasm moves up to poke Zero hard in the ribs.

"What's up with him?  He narcoleptic now?"

"Dunno, maybe.  God knows I feel for him."

"Yeah... I'm sure he's probably tired by now.  We have been pretty busy I guess.  What have you come up with for the pool.  Saw you working on it, looked interesting..."

Phantasm seems a bit awkward, but otherwise over her outburst of anger from the other day.  Perhaps she realizes she'll have to deal with Impetus eventually, and figures that she should learn to deal with the feelings he creates in her, or perhaps everybody that he deals with.  Maybe it isn't even his fault...

"Thanks," Imp flashes her one of his almostly disturbingly attractive smiles, "but i don't know how good it is, really.  It seems ok to me, but i think this should be a group effort.  Samuel?  Dillon? Quentin? any ideas?"

After his conversation with Quentin, Dillon followed, giving Dr. Zero another good shake to rouse him.  "Give us the dimensions and Solitaire and I can dig out the appropriate space.  Uh, we'd need to get on-board with the Southern Nevada Water Authority.  I don't know how the base handles their water, but Nevada usually notices when someone uses a million gallons of water."  He jostled Dr. Zero again.  "Hey, come to think of it, can you geniuses figure out how to recycle the water?  Put a roof over it or something?  Water's scarce around here.  Even the Bellagio does something to keep the water authority from fining them.  Good PR, right?"

He shifted Dr. Zero again.  "Yo doc?  Okay, dude, we need you.  Time to wake up.  We got a pool to build."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:52, Mon 13 Apr 2009.

Water recycling, check.  How about making a glass ceiling with sliding shades that also act as solar panels, that should give us enough juice to run the whole building, heat the water, run the recycler.  Maybe have the building be a greenhouse that uses natural soil and plant filtration to clean and purify the water... Imp's ideas start getting away from him as the three day deadline appears to be forgotten.

"Hey, you plan it, we'll build it, not sleeping for 3 days anyway. With the exception of the good doctor. Course, he might just be faking to gauge our reactions." She didn't really care either way, but she nudged him a few times with the shovel, just to be sure. "Do whatever you think we can get done, shouldn't be all that difficult."

"Y'know the more I think about it the more i think the three day deadline is just to rattle us.  We should take the time to do a great job, not rush around and do it half assed.  I wanna look at this building and be proud to have been a part of creating something awesome, not something that will be torn down and replaced as soon as they have the budget for it.  Waddaya say?"

"Hanging gardens..." the doctor says while begining to stir. Dr. Zero slides off Comstock's shoulder and lands head first on the hard earth. "Ow!" Zero rubs it's head absently. "We will need a main source of electricity for heating. Solar still has too many limits. I recommend gas. Does anyone know what powers the base? Going off your recycling objectives, we can develop automated dew collectors. They would consistently replenish the water for the pool and not touch the water table. A water tower to store excess might be wise, considering how powerful & unpredictable Novas can be. Wait! We're Novas!" The doctor jumps to his feet in shock.

"We're so stupid! We'll wreak anything not triple reinforced! And we must make sure everything is easy to repair, replace, & update!" The Doctor strokes the chin of its gas mask thoughtfully. "If we want to make it last, like Mr. Pet suggests, we also have to take into account Novas with mastery of water using it in the near future, an Olympic sized pool might be too small. Now," Zero serves the area, "...ladies & gentlemen, where do you think we should plant this Leviathan? Oh, and I want slides. For the kiddies. Not for me. That would be silly. But that can be added latter. For the kids."

"And yes, let us ignore the deadline. I don't know about you, but I'm not afraid to jog some more."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:40, Mon 13 Apr 2009.

Quentin looked at the plans Imp had put down, scooped up a pencil, and began to jot down additions as he listens to the others. Alternate fuel? Recycling the water? Shouldn't be too hard.

He grabbed a second page and started to sketch and run some numbers in the margin. About 15 or 20 minutes later he's done and showed his work to the others. "I think this will do it."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
[OOC: Quentin Abernathy rolled 6 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7. Design swimming pool.
You rolled 2 successes using 3d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((3,9,8)).
Total of 10 successes! Go mega-int! I'm not sure exactly what sort of brilliant idea he has, he's way smarter than me. Its a really good one though.]

---

"I'm n-n-not very good at c-construction, but I could help out-t-t a bit with the el-l-lectric stuff."

"Well, the first big thing really is just digging out a big hole. We'll need some trenches and the like coming off of it for the plumbing bits, but any pool pretty much starts with a hole in the ground." He shrugged. "I can sort of help with that, but mostly just by making everything lighter. I'm afraid my abilities are probably more useful in the planning department of this operation."

He stood up and grabed something to mark the area with. "If we're making it Olympic sized, we'd need to make it about here." He dropped a marker at each of the four corners as he paces out the perimeter. He continued to speak as he did this. "Olympic pools are defined in metric terms. They're 50 meters long by 25 meters wide and are at least 2 meters deep, but often much deeper - particularly if we're planning to include any sort of diving aspect." He did the conversion in his head, "That's about 165ft by about 80ft, rounding to the nearest 5, and 6 foot 7 inches deep or more." He shrugged. "We'll need to move a lot of dirt. We'll want to make it a bit deeper and wider to account for the concrete we'll need to pour in and the pipes and the like."

Dillon grabbed a shovel.  "Doc ... I'm going to get back to you on that giant pool idea.  I'll probably sink like a rock no matter what size pool we make.  I'm going to start on that hole."

Once a bit of digging revealed hard caliche, Dillon threw out a relatively simple plan: dig deep trenches, break the caliche into large blocks -- probably six foot cubes -- and lift the blocks out ... a process considerably faster than breaking up the sediments and extracting them by shovel and truckload.  One of the brains could probably figure out how to make the caliche and gravel into cement and other ingredients for concrete, which might reduce the waste of the project.  Comstock could shape his hands into crude mattocks ideal for digging deep, Solitaire and Prodigal could fly the debris out in discrete units, Impetus and Gravitas could use momentum and gravity influence to keep the caliche from collapsing under its own weight long enough to complete the trip (with the beneficial side effect of lightening the load for the two).

Presumably, the others would handle the design architecture, technologies, plumbing.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Alright.  All tasks here simply assume that the first X dice represent Mega-Attribute X.

Mental Prodigy: Engineering.(17:33, Today: Comstock rolled 1 success using 2d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,1.)  Two successes.

Design Swimming Pool: Mega-Int 1, Int 1, Engineering 2, +2 die for Mental Prodigy.(Comstock rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 1,10,5,5,7,1.)
Two successes.  Enough to suggest Dillon can follow the design ideas of the others at least and perhaps competently work with plumbing, pumps, or construction equipment.

Digging out the pool: Mega-Strength 4, Strength 5 (Strength boosted through Density Control: Increase), Might 2.  (Comstock rolled 2 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 5,2,9,6,6,9,5. Digging out the pool-bed.)
That looks like 22 successes thanks to Mega-Strength.

That will burn up my Quantum pool after awhile.  4 quantum a pop will get me about six activations of density control.  I could draw it out, but I don't think Comstock really has that level of control yet.  Assume that he digs the trenches, moves the first few blocks with consummate skill, and then weakens back to his base-level, needing a rest.

---

In reply to the discussion on power alternatives for the pool, Phantasm scoots up to the group, and draws some suggestions on the designs that have already been done.  The modifications will allow for efficient recycling of the water with less energy than standard systems, building in part off of the collection of water vapor suggested by Dr. Zero.  She also lays down a diagram of a solar power collector that, to those with knowledge of such things, shows an increased yield over conventional solar cells, hopefully making them more viable in construction (and profitable for patenting...).  Though the materials construction may take more time than the group currently has at hand.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You rolled 6 successes using 11d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((10,7,9,1,5,7,3,10,10,2,2)).
Since the first dice was my mega att, that puts me at 8 successes on Engineering+Int

---

Imp, humbled at how much more astute his team mates are than he, listens and learns, occasionally adding his own feedback as his original plans become something different, something greater.  He uses his unerring ability to spot potential problems and weaknesses to improve the plans, and talks with private Gordon to requisitioning the equipment needed.  He helps out as much as he can, not being supernaturally strong he's not as effective as some, but he uses his charm and humour to make the construction less onerous.

The pool building is fast on its way. Solitaire and Comstock make short work of the digging (likely abandoning the shovels for something larger, like the bed of a dump truck, after a little while).  Between Quentin, Impetus, Phantasm, and Zero the plans end up being worked out...

They give you the permission to use the surrounding buildings for building materials, and you are able to supplement it through the work orders. At the end you have an enclosed building with extra strong Plexiglas for the windows, with a large skylight on top.  The system loses minimal water, though the enclosure is somewhat humid.

The pool is heated and lit by solar power, though it is currently powered off of the base grid until the solar plates are fully installed.

Due to the drying time on the pool structure, the water is only just finishing pouring when your time runs out (thanks to quick thinking on one of the mega intelligent people's parts, you managed to come up with a way to quick dry the concrete).

The pool itself is constructed with an extra-flexible concrete blend that is more resistant to the elements, and reinforced in such a manner that it will even handle a moderate sized earthquake without being damaged.

Feel free to make any add-ons past this that you would like.  You get a break after this, and can talk amongst yourselves.  You can also feel free to describe any interesting or pertinent parts of the construction process that you like.

The thing that Imp liked most about the pool was the amount of vegetation in the building.  Pool runoff was channeled into the irrigation system, then purified by the plants that were being delivered just as the concrete was setting, and then put back into teh pool via a waterfall that also doubled as a high diving platform with 3m, 5m, 7m, 10m, and 15 m platforms.  The pool itself felt less like an indoor pool and more like a pool one might find in a Central American rainforest.  After the job was done Imp hit the hay with a vengeance, he got a solid 10 hours before meeting the rest of the team in the cafeteria for breakfast, a real breakfast, not the add water crap they had had to eat while working on the pool.

In reply to Impetus (msg #229):

Dr. Zero stands atop the waterfall, wearing big, floppy flippers, a striped, full body swim suite from the 40's plus swim cap (on top of the usual uniform & mask), and a large inner-tube with a cute rubber duck head attacked. Dr. Zero has a large rubber ducky under the right arm. The Doctor looks down before leaping in with a cannonball dive that erupts into a huge splash. The sanctuary is filled with deep snoring as the doctor reclines in the inner tube for the next few hours.


This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Tue 14 Apr 2009.

Most of the innovations in the pool were invisible to the eye. The small group had made incredible leaps forward in materials technology, water recycling, and power generation that would have probably taken decades if done by a baseline group of specialists with similar size.

For his part, Quentin was exhausted after having constantly exerted his gravitational abilities to assist with construction. True to his word, though, he didn't eat or sleep for the entire duration of the project, cedeing his share of MREs to the group. Once they were given a chance to have a bit of off-time, he did retire to his quarters briefly for a short nap of two hours (though this was mostly to recharge his quantum battery and to relax rather than to fufil any real need for sleep) and spent the rest of that night responding to email correspondence with various professors at both his university and others.

He made a mental note to push through a doctoral thesis - certianly he could write something worthy of that aim. It seemed almost silly not to obtain that, and perhaps other, qualifications that he'd spent so much time working towards, even if it almost felt like cheating now to do so. He drafted an email for a thesis proposal to the professor he'd been working with prior to his eruption and then put the topic out of mind until he got a response. It was unfortunate that most of the work would have to be done remotely, but circumstances had changed.

Once he had finished, he made his way back to the common areas in search of both other trainees and in search of a book to keep him occupied if all of the others proved to be sleeping.

Solitaire relaxed in the faux hot spring built into one corner of the large building. Her muscles tingled pleasantly as she leaned back and soaked, enjoying the fruits of their labor. "This is the life." she moaned luxuriantly.

After an hour or so, she got out, dried off, and marched into the cafeteria demanding two plates of french toast, half a dozen eggs over easy and a gallon of orange juice. After her first real meal in three days, Solitaire retreated to her room and went to sleep. She really wasn't sure if she needed to, but it was something she enjoyed, and she didn't see how staying awake would benefit her anyway.

David looked at himself, lying on the pools surface barely above the water with a sudden jolt, everything had been like a blur to him, his legs and wings for that matter feel as though they had been used a fair amount more than they were used to, but he doesn't remember the run, mentally he felt a little fatigued like he ran a marathon with his mind minus the exhilartion of the change scenery, his stomach felt like it was on the losing end of a war, and now he was floating on and partially in some water...what had happened.

"Um...everyone....what's going on?" He asked...

"We finished the pool and are trying to enjoy ourselves," said the water.  Through careful manipulations, Dillon was finding ways to force his body to behave like a loudspeaker.  It took a great deal of concentration for him to maintain buoyancy, making swimming an issue and presently he was sitting on the bottom of the pool, his lungs filtering oxygen from the water almost as easily as from air.  He found high pressure environment strangely relaxing, but wasn't sure how he felt about that discovery.  I used to hate the bottom of the pool.

He reverberated again, the sound a crude, inflectionless approximation of his voice.  "How you holding up there, David?"  For sport, he splashed at the sleeping Dr. Zero, figuring out how waves would form when he swung his arms with Nova strength.

---

Eventually Comstock decided that breathing water was a little unsettling and did his best to sleep.  Aches and pains managed to keep him awake, but by morning he felt rested and capable again.  He sat down to breakfast with Solitaire, shot some hoops, and tried to settle his nerves.  He still hadn't unpacked his bags.  Didn't see the point.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:18, Tue 14 Apr 2009.

After all the work, Samuel decided to stay on land and catch a little nap. "Ah," he yawned "th-this is the l-l-life."

You are given the next day off, to sleep and relax.  Use it as you see fit.

The next day (friday), your 5th at the facility, you are guided to a conference room that will apparently be serving as your classroom for the remainder of your time here.

In the room are Mr. Walker, and an Indian woman that none of you have met before.

"Nice seeing all of you again.

You completed your task, and even exceeded our expectations.  And perhaps your own?  After 72 hours of constant work, no one collapsed.  No one faltered, with the exception of stealing a few moments of sleep.  Did anyone even get a blister, a cut, a bruise?  This was exactly our point in having you do this.  Even now you don't know your own limits, but at least you know that whatever your limits are, they far exceed what they once were.

For what remains of today, you will be introduced to the various material you will be studying for the remainder of your stay here.  Dr. Bharati will be your primary instructor, while other staff members will supplement your core curriculum with special courses.  We will begin your normal routine on Monday, and for those interested, you will have a chaperoned trip into the city over the weekend... We've taken the liberty of renting a few rooms on the strip.  Just to show you that your stay with Utopia does come with some perks as well as hard work.

Thank you everyone, and good day"

"Hello everyone.  I am Professor Uma Bharati, and I will be instructing you.  My first goal will be simply educating you in the basics.  I will assist those of you with academic deficiencies, helping you to reach satisfactory levels of competence.  During this time, those that are more advanced will be given work suitable for their level of advancement, and will be given a head start on obtaining more advanced degrees or certification.

While we will never completely stop working on your basic academic development, our focus will shift after everyone has reached competency.  We will move on to dealing with things specific to your role as part of T2M: you will become multilingual; you will become proficient in first aid and the psychology of trauma survivors; you will become familiar with world geography and politics; you will come to understand the customs and etiquette native to various major regions; you will be trained in the laws of major countries, and U.N. standards of behavior and crisis response; finally, you will be trained in enough physics and general science to know how your powers work, and to be able to avoid causing collateral damage with them when possible.

I suppose the first thing to do will be to find out everyone's level of education, and their areas of interest.  And yes, I do have all of this on paper already.  This is so that you will know what to expect from each other, and so that I can hear how you describe yourselves, rather than simply reading a dry report on your capabilities."

"I'll start, I guess. I was most previously a doctoral candidate in the Physics department at the University of Chicago. I got my undergrad at Columbia. As one might imagine, my concentration in physics may have been the origin of nature of my power," he shrugged.

"Since my eruption, I've written a couple of papers, and I've recently sent off an email to the professor I was working with about finishing off my degree. Though my first area of interest was definately physics, since my eruption I've gained... a lot... of knowledge in a number of different fields. I can also speak a bunch of other languages now," his brow creases a bit, "I've only had limited formal training for languages, so that's sort of weird. When I was being tested by Utopia originally, they weren't able to accurately test my current level of intelligence. All anyone, including me, can say is that my node has hypercharged my cognition and that the IQ scale is no longer an accurate measure for nova intelligence."

"As far as a current area of interest, I'm interesting in testing out a few applications of my power in my original field of expertise. There are a number of important tests that can be done with the ability to generate gravity at will that will help to prove or disprove a number of different theories that are floating around right now."

Solitaire whistles, somewhat intimidated. She'd known he was smart, but that smart? "Well, I've got nothing on that, Utopia pegged my IQ about 115, and I've never been much of an academic. Had been planning on becoming an artist before my career plans changed rather abruptly. Still, I'm a quick study."

After the pool is completed, Phantasm goes back to her room, takes a quick shower to rinse of the construction dirt, and lays down to stare at the ceiling.  After about an hour of relaxation, she goes to the cafeteria to eat, and then returns to the lounge to watch the tv, read a book, and eat stale donuts.  She does this until the next morning, when she is expected to be at class.

Once in class she looks around at everyone with a look of confusion on her face, before speaking.

"I'm... not really sure what I've done.  I don't really remember much before I was a Nova.  But they told me at the testing center that they couldn't use the regular IQ chart for me, and that I would need to be put on an advanced curriculum in training.

My interests?  Not sure really.  I like chemistry, think its neat.  I like making stuff, and I'm pretty good at puzzles.  Not sure what else you're looking for here."

Samuel looked around for a moment to see if anyone was going next, then stood up. "W-W-Well, before I erupted, I was a m-mass communic-c-cations major at NYCU. My focus was in inv-v-vestigative journalism. I r-r-really like..." he pauses for a moment "hunting. People, things, p-places. If s-s-something needs to b-be found, I'm the m-man for it." He finishes his little speech with a smile, then sits down.

Dillon sank deep into his chair.  This, being exactly the subject he hoped not to discuss with the whole team, made him anxious all over again.  A gray tinge of metal spread across his skin.

Imp looks around and grins, nervously.  "I don't want to brag or blow my own horn.  I was working on twin PhDs in Physics and Engineering at MIT when i erupted.  I was always something of a nerd, kinda an uber nerd that scares even other nerds.  Since I erupted I have encyclopedic knowledge about things i had never even considered before.  Shakespeare, History, Law, all that stuff is now locked away up here." Imp taps his forehead.  "My computer skills also went throught the roof, and like Quentin, my node overclocked my brain and pushed it beyond normal human capacity.  I can speak Spanish fluently, and Klingon."  He reddens, slightly embarrased.  "I used to study it when i was in highschool, ok?  I want to know how we can do what we can do, and how we can learn to do more.  I hear people say that novas can do anything, i wanna put that to the test."  Imp smiles at the Doctor, unconsciously trying to win her over, she was kinda hot in a geeky way.

The Professor fidgets in her chair, patting her hair and recrossing her legs, as she talks to Impetus.  After she finishes talking to you she stairs a moment and the quickly turns away.

"Well. We seem to have a great deal of potential in the room.  Those that don't want to share, I do understand your reticence, but your teammates should know what to expect from you... Dillon for example has not had a stellar academic background, but our tests show that he does have the potential to be a wonderful student. You should communicate with one another, use each others' strengths to your advantage, and aid one another in overcoming your weaknesses.

But trust will come naturally with time I think.  Shall we begin?  If you will pull out your copybooks..."

Dr. Bharati spends the rest of the day (minus second breakfast, lunch, and midday snack) teaching the class.  For those without mega-intelligence or a background in academics, she provides a difficult curriculum filled with the virtually all of what one would learn in grades 9-12, to be completed within the next few months.  For those with prior academic experience, she provides research projects in each individual's area of specialty, as well as a curriculum specifically designed to expand their knowledge base.

By the end of the day (16:30), Dr. Bharati thanks the class and sends you on your way, warning everyone to be careful over the weekend.

After that, you are excused to dinner, and to prepare for your outing.  Frostburn will meet you at 19:00 and will serve as your chaperon.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
feel free to discuss your week and your plans for the evening at dinner.  More content will be provided tomorrow hopefully.

---

Impetus scanned quickly through the course materials.  Some of it seemed fascinating, some not so much, but all of it was challenging.  He grinned and read intently, mind occupied by engineering challenges.  The stuff on hydro engineering was difficult at first, but he soon got into it.
At dinner that night, after his appetizer had taken the edge off, imp looked around at everybody. "So, a weekend in Vegas, nice.  What do we wanna do?  I'm gonna check into Caesars and play some poker, no craps or roulette, it would be too easy to cheat. After that I'm gonna go clubbing, i hear that there's a new Nova only bar on the strip called Archon that's physically banning baselines from entering, sounds intriguing."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:16, Wed 15 Apr 2009.

The biggest problems are the psychological blocks to learning.  Dillon managed to make it through the day and even learn a few things.  He still didn't know how well he was doing or how much material he was really covering.  The retreat to dinner was a relief.

"I just hope we're going to the Bellagio or the Venetian or one of the nicer places.  My parents always went to the Riv and the Circus Circus and that got old fast."  He grabbed a plate and stocked up on red meat, beats, potatoes.  "So, Phantasm ... were you serious about not remembering anything?  No high school, no blue skies, nothing?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Wed 15 Apr 2009.

Solitaire sighs, running a hand through her hair. She'd thought she was done with school, well, real school, art school didn't really count in her opinion. She knew where her strengths were, and it wasn't academics. Her assignments weren't really focused on any particular area, it was more of a selection of courses to see if she had any potential, as well as a further grounding in, pretty much everything. "Ugh, its gonna be like high school all over again, but harder." She mutters.

She perks up at Imps mention of cards. "Poker? You say? Hell yes I'm down for that. Actually, your whole night sounds pretty good.  Wonder if there's any good music in town..." She muses for a moment, making a mental note to check. "A Nova's only club, that does sound interesting. Wonder what it would be like."

"I hear that the most apt description is Fucking Expensive.  More than 50 bucks a drink, which sucks cause i don't know how much we'd have to drink to get drunk" (Imp looks suddenly depressed as he remembered getting shitfaced on a couple vodka coolers) "Should be very interesting to meet some others like us."
[Private to GM: Just in case you forgot, i do have an Elite(or what will be called elites, post Equatorial wars) enemy.  May be fun to throw me through a wall or something.]

"Sounds cool.  I want to hit the pits alone a bit first, though.  I mean, once we get made for Nova's they're gonna want to keep us off the tables.  Shit, man, Imp you could probably count cards in your head."  Dillon didn't quite realize what he was saying until he was saying it.  "If they don't stop us, we'd clear them out.  Uh ... I know Walker would be pissed with us, but ... it couldn't hurt to hit the tables a bit before we hit the club."  Dillon's thoughts wandered.  A whole club just for Novas?  Would they let other celebrities in?  Senators and stuff?

Phantasm shakes her head and says "Nope, nothing" but passes Dillon a piece of paper under the table at dinner.  It reads: Ask me again when we're out of here.

"So, I'd really like to go to some of the clubs on the strip too... Or maybe that Novas only place you were talking about Imp.  Or just sightseeing.  That could be fun.  I heard that the Bellagio has some pretty glass ceilings, and a nice fountain display."

Phantasm pushes food around on her plate, occasionally eating a bite just for entertainment, but has given up on the illusion that she actually needs to eat.

"Are we going to build anything else do you think?  I think we could make some changes to this building, redo all the electronics systems, heating and air, all that.  Or we could set up some kind of danger room thingy..."

Phantasm waxes eloquent regarding all the work the improvements that could be made to the base.  Apparently she has loosened up a bit, now that she has spent some time working with people, and gotten more familiar with the situation.

"Uh, Vegas huh.....I don't really think I'm old enough to enter anything in Vegas, don't you even need to be 18 to enter the city limits...," David stammered.  "Although honestly I'd like to go to that nova's only club,"

From out of nowhere, the Doctor throws his arms around Phantasm & Prodigal. "Second! Let's hit the scene and see what the other freaks are doing. This will be fun. Can we brag & boast about being Team Tomorrow, or is that still an unconfirmed thing?" Zero pauses to put a finger to his chin. "This could be educational. We are supposed to be able to beat these guys up if they go crazy, so getting intel on them would be smart. Oh. I feel like a spy! This job is endless fun. "

"Hey, crazy idea. What if we do it like a scavenger hunt? Whomever gets the best Intel, like powers, weaknesses, psych stuff, gets a prize? Or do we just want to mingle?"

"Regardless, let's remember to stay in the same building, and remain in eye shot of each-other. We are targets, now. "

Impetus:

"I hear that the most apt description is Fucking Expensive.  More than 50 bucks a drink..."

"Damnit. We need a matter guy who makes... stuff. Like booze. Or... a Teleporter. That it. Can anyone teleport? We can buy the alcohol, and 'Pop' it in. Who's in?"




Earlier in the day, at the Pool:

Prodigal:

"Um...everyone....what's going on?" He asked...

Zero had been awake for a while, wakened by Comstock's experimentations in reverberation. The Doctor was too fascinated to leave, but didn't want to distract Comstock, whom could be shy, so Zero pretended to sleep. Prodigal's odd appearance now caught his attention. Zero tries to focus his senses through the Node growing in its head. Occasionally it could reveal things about Quantum disturbances.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: I'm trying to use the Node Background to detect what's up. I'll try an Investigative Roll, too.
11:03, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 3 successes using 12d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 5,5,2,2,5,6,9,8,7,6,2,1. Investigative Check, 1 Die Mega.
11:02, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 1 success using 6d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 3,3,4,6,9,2. Investigative Prodigy, 1 Mega Die.
11:01, Today: Dr. Zero rolled 3 successes using 3d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 7,9,7. Node .

---

Comstock:

For sport, he splashed at the sleeping Dr. Zero...

"Ahg!" Zero squeals and falls off the inner-tube.


This message was last edited by the player at 15:12, Wed 15 Apr 2009.

Dillon stared dumbly at the paper, crumpled it and placed it in his pocket.  Years of lying to his parents about things helped him keep a straight face.



"Oh man, seriously?  How old are you?  No way ... Imp we got to get this guy some ID or something.  He probably can't even get drunk."  The sympathy he felt for Prodigal and his cut-short adolescence was somewhat unexpected.  It felt horribly unjust.  "Doc, you could make a fake ID for him, right?  Say he's 21 so he can at least get a drink when he's with us?"

"Las Vegas?" Samuel wondered aloud. "I've n-n-never been th-th-there, and you g-guys are talking ab-b-bout it like it's the promised land. W-W-What so great about V-V-Vegas?"

"Never been myself, though I've heard plenty of stories. They don't call it 'Sin City' for nothing. Its one of the entertainment capitals of the world - a city in the middle of the desert with nothing to offer except for gambling, booze, and a good time."

Quentin was absently flipping through some of the papers he'd been assigned while the others ate. He occationally took a bite of something on the assumption that some sort of food intake was probably still good for him. He looked up, "Given that we're being chaparoned, I don't think staying in the same place will be too much of an issue. It sounds like they want to keep an eye on us while we're out and about."

Quentin made a face, "I sort of want to play a few games, but I'm way too obviously a Nova to be casually mistaken for a baseline and my powers make it far too easy for me to cheat. Counting cards is childs play, Manipulating the dice in craps, determining where the ball falls in roulette... I could do all those things. I guess I can just stick to slots or something... I don't have any ability to manipulate electronics - that's probably more fair."

He set aside the packet he'd been going through, "Besides, with Frostburn with us and me there, we're likely to attract a lot of attention. It may be best to put in a few appearances and then check out this novas-only joint where people will care less about such things. Or just clubbing, where powers also matter less."

In reply to Comstock (msg #254):

David looks around a little nervously..."Uh..17..I don't really want to drink or gamble but I'd like to able to stay with the rest of you, except with He flaps his wingsthese I will also stick out due to my blessings," He says.  "You all have seen and done so much, it's amazing for me to be around such blessed people, I bet some of you have even saved lives already, anyone?"

"I could arrange that. If I find the right people. It'll take some money & two hours... wait a moment. I don't want to be kill our fun, but if he is a celebrity next week, we have to make sure he doesn't get any photo's taken. The boy doesn't exactly blend in. Is this club discreet, or does it have a lot of scummy poperatsy around it? Where's our Teleporter? Ah. Either way we will make it work."

Prodigal:

"You all have seen and done so much, it's amazing for me to be around such blessed people, I bet some of you have even saved lives already, anyone?"

The Doctor falls silent.
Zero looks away, and then back at Prodigal. "Wait. You look familiar. Did I know you from before?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Wed 15 Apr 2009.

"Could always fly in, everybody else looks normal," Solitaire looks at Quentin. "At least to the casual eye.  And if its Nova's only, they must have a way to get in and out without everybody noticing. And even if we did have a 'porter, somehow I doubt bouncing right in would go over well. Moreso if they've never seen us before. But yeah, like you said, we'll work it out."

Quentin leaned back in his chair. "Teleportation? Hum... I suppose it could be possible. Well, it'd have to be with the number of novas that have reported the ability. Still..." He seemed to muse over this for a moment. "I wonder..." He grabbed a napkin, produced a pencil from somewhere and started writing out formulas along with a rough 3-d grid.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:42, Wed 15 Apr 2009.

"It's like ... what do you want to do?  Whatever it is, man, you can do it here.  There's always a party, there's more booze than water, and no one ever sleeps.  Everything is 24/7.  I mean, some people come to see white-plastic castles and some people come to see the fake pyramids.  Get just off the Strip and it gets messy ... we're keeping you away from Industrial and North Fremont Street ... but everything else is just awesome."  He grasped Samuel's shoulder.  "Me?  I'm just excited that I finally have some money to go crazy like this.  I'm going to eat a lobster.  They've got these posters of a guy with a 20 pound lobster," he gestured with his hands, indicating something about three or four feet long, "damn things are blue and I've always wanted one.  That's what I'm getting."

"Seriously, man, you have to want something.  Arcade?  Art show?"

Quentin made a face at the napkin and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. "I need a lab," he said, sounding mildly frusterated.

In reply to Dr. Zero (msg #258):

"Know me? where would you know me from? I don't really know anyone else other than us personally who's been blessed, I met this one guy when i first went to the project," David replied confused

Samuel is amazed by Comstocks desription of this wonderland. "Wow..." he whispers "Th-Th-That sounds great! Esp-p-pecially the art show." His smile fades for a moment. "What's wr-r-rong with Industrial and N-N-North Fremont street?"

"Industrial Road is just off the strip and ain't pretty.  Strip clubs, drug dealers.  Get into North Las Vegas and you are in the seedy part, and I don't think Walker and Frostburn are going to be happy if there's any incidents."  He left out one piece of local lore: prostitutes tended to line up on North Fremont Street.  Or at least they did once.

Dillon stood.  "Alright, what needs to happen before we get out of here?  I'm not hitting my books, but if there's any girders or trucks to carry I think I'm good for it."

In reply to Samuel Wolfson (msg #264):

"I'd like to accompany you to the art show if you  don't mind my company Samuel, everything else might be a bit too...uh..what's the word..much for me...," David smiled

"Counting cards is indeed too easy, that's why I'm going with poker, not blackjack.   Of course I can read people as easily as I can count cards, and i almost always know when they're bluffing, so that won't be much more challenging.  At least with poker it's only the guys at the table with you that are losing cash, not the casino.  Less angry gangsters this way.
Y'know, i don't think that Prodigal is really going to need I.D. If they do remember to card him, I don't know that they will want to have their business, whatever it may be, photographed turning away a nova, much less one who is working for Utopia.  Just a guess.
So, Dillon, sounds like you know your way around the city, what do you think we should do first, other than that 20lb lobster?"
Imp was so excited he could hardly sit still.  He'd finally be that cool guy who won at cards and got all the chicks, like Brad Pitt in Oceans 11.  This was gonna be great!

Samuel furrows his brow at David, then smiles. "Y-Y-You don't have to b-be so polite all the t-t-time, buddy." He puts his hand on his shoulder and gives him a little electrical shock. "HA!" he laughs "You n-need loosen up a b-b-bit!"

"I dunno.  I can show you guys all the free entertainment.  Fountains at the Bellagio, Pirate ship, Mirage Volcano, that statue thing in the forum shops."  Dillon had no doubt that his new companions were mentally picking apart each of these man made wonders and redesigning them with Quantum and Nova Intellect.  "I'd hit Dino's and get wasted, but I have a bad feeling I'll never get those days back.  Never did me much good anyway.  Ah," he snapped back to the subject at hand.  "Drop Samuel and David off at the Bellagio art gallery and see what Steve Wynn's gardeners have put up at the indoor garden?  Either that or the Stratosphere.  I've never been up there, and its a good starting point for a walking tour."  It occurred to him that Solitaire could probably skip the cost of admission and fly to the top ... and as long as she smiled and created publicity, they would probably pay her for the privilege.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Dillon smiled.  "Quentin ... I think this is one of the only cities in the world where you could fit in."  The gist of the plan was this: with Roman centurians, pirate actors, women with giant feathers on their heads and rhinestone underwear, magicians, and two guys who spend too much time with their cats, would Quentin really stand out that much?  If they sold it right, he would be just another magician.

Maybe that's why Project: Utopia had picked Las Vegas.  It was a city of impossibilities, perfect for showcasing the future.  Either that or they had gotten the only federal land that the US Government would give them, land conveniently nearby Nellis Air Force Base, where Dad said the Air Force had new F-22's and flying saucers for testing and they kept nuclear warheads in case of war.  If the government decided to destroy Team Tomorrow and all they had made, could he survive a nuke?  This line of thinking made Dillon feel like Dr. Zero, made the back of his head tingle like a live current was passing through it.

"Man, you're weird," he told the doctor before leaving to get clothes for the trip.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
20:14, Today: Comstock rolled 3 success using 3d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 10,1,3. Details on Las Vegas.

First number is mega-intelligence, making that roll three successes, right?  Just a die roll, Int + Streetwise, to justify knowing so damn much.  Hopefully the difficulty is low since my guy is sorta kinda local.

---

Imp's clothes, previously loose fitting khakis, army boots, and a white buttondown with rolled up sleeves change into a perfectly tailored black Armani-esque suit with a burnt raspberry silk shirt and shiny black shoes.  So, when do we leave?  He asks, excitement lending his usual affability an air of contagious high spirits.

David smiles and jumps a little at the electric shock, " I can't help it, it just comes naturally to me"

The moment before she is touched, Phantasm tenses.  After a few moments, her hand moves to his wrist and grabs it, pointedly pushing it off her shoulder, before putting a few feet of distance between them.

You should... You should tell people when you are planning on coming up and grabbing them...

I ah... I'm gonna go get packed.

When you arrived back at the base Sunday evening, there was a new dossier waiting for you in your rooms, and two manuals (army style, with small words and plenty of pictures).  The first is "A Guide to Safe Power Usage, 1st edition revised", and the second is, "Saving Lives, A Guide to Disaster Response for Novas".  Your briefing asks that you familiarize yourself with the literature, and take some time to think about how you would relate your powers to these topics.  It also provides a schedule for the week, which will include powers training, search and rescue training, and construction time all the way up to late afternoon. Early evenings are now reserved for class work, making your workday something close to 12 hours, with another hour or so for reading materials outside of classes.

)))))))))))))

Monday gets started with another crystal clear desert morning.  Mondays breakfast is an assortment of pork products, eggs, pancakes, waffles, and various pastries.  A lonely fruit basket sits full but unloved on the island in the middle of the cafeteria with the beverages and cereals.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I am hungry, and remembering the cheap and wonderful food from my air force days... I should go get breakfast now.

---

The base staff seems to have increased. Men and women in uniform stand in line waiting for their meals, chatting about sports, entertainment, and each other. Most of them are new faces that you haven't seen before.

Imp swaggers into the mess singing Mambo #5 in Quenya.  He looks around, sees that he doesn't really know anybody, and loads up on food before heading over to a table with a couple female soldiers, gives them a dashing bow and asks if the table is full.  Barely waiting for a response he sits down and starts chatting them up.

"Seriously Doc, it's weird.  Watch."  Dillon had managed to find Dr. Zero at breakfast and strike a conversation on the nature of his nova powers.  He'd spent the last evening playing around with his new 'voice.'  Focus.  Breath in.  "Stand on your head," he commanded with that bizarre supersonic hum and static in his voice.  He waited to see the Doctor's response to the suggestion.  "So what's it feel like?  Anything?"

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

12:38, Today: Comstock rolled 1 success using 3d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,3,7. "Stand on your head.".

Using Mega-Manipulation, "The Voice." One success ... so the Doc should feel a tingle at least.

---

Over breakfast, Dillon idly played with the waffles in front of him, not quite sure why he didn't want them, but found himself admiring the complex flavor of the pork sausage.  Even the syrup tasted different from normal, like the Utopia cooks were switching brands on him or something.  "Hey guys," he asked one of the soldiers, "They always serve this stuff?  Like, there been a change?"  The soldier shrugged but didn't think anything was different.  Dillon found a cup of battery-acid-quality army coffee to kill his taste buds instead of worrying about it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Mon 04 May 2009.

Samuel stumbled into the mess hall, lost in thought. It's getting even worse now. I don't know how much more of this I can take. He greeted the others with a tired smile, and sat down. He wasn't particularly hungry, so he poked his food around his plate. He frowned. Hard-boiled eggs. I thought I got scrambled. Damn.

After people begin settling in for breakfast, the lieutenant walks in, escorting a youngish man.  Those sitting at different tables she rounds up and orders them to consolidate at a single large table, at which she sits down with her guest.

"Alright everyone, I hope you had a good weekend, because training is going to significantly intensify in the coming weeks.  Also, we have someone new for you to work with.  This is Mr. Logan.  He will be training with you.  Unfortunately he missed last week's fun due to delays getting him out of eval, but since we don't really have training courses start up frequently [was that a joke?] he'll just have to make do. Enjoy your meals people, I'll see you outside in 30."

At that Lt. Kovich gets up and leaves, off to do whatever lieutenants do in the morning.

Quentin grabs an apple to eat on as he rapidly reads through the manual that has been provided. He is, somewhat obviously, unimpressed by 'A Guide to Safe Power Usage' which seemed to largely suggest that it was a bad idea to cause excessive collateral damage or endager baseline civilians. He set is down after only a few pages. There might be something more worthwhile later in the book, but he'd find that later. Instead he started skimming the disaster response booklet.

He looks up when the newcomer is brought in, but doesn't immediately say anything, expecting that some of the more social members of their little training band would make the first move. He instead contented himself with continuing to glance through the book.

How do my powers relate to these topics, eh? He'd probably be called upon in many situations to help make handling larger and heavier things easier. He'd also be useful in demolition situations when one wanted to avoid injury to those on the ground from falling objects. Perhaps his biggest value, of course, was in planning and research, which weren't generally the sort of hazardous scenarious provided in the required reading.

Solitaire looks up from the plate of French Toast she'd somehow managed to score despite it being waffle day. She gives the new guy a wave. "Welcome to the party.  Call me Solitaire." She smiles, then returns to her breakfast.

Harley walked in with Kovich looking like he just rolled out of bed, wearing sneakers, jeans and a black tee. he gave Kovich a momentary side-long glare of annoyance mixed with a smirk at the mention of his detainment in evaluation.

he'd had to use every trick in the book and even made up a few on-the-fly to get through that torture. as he watched her leave, he looked at the clock on the wall and the food mumbling "30 minutes?" then looked at the group not sure what to expect.

looking somewhat apprehensive, his attention was immediately drawn to Zero, David and Gravitas settling on them a moment longer than he'd meant to with a bit of a puzzled expression.

catching himself starting to stare without meaning to, he quickly diverted his attention to the others when Solitaire spoke up. his expression changed to relief, glad someone was willing to break the ice and make the first move.


running a hand through his hair, Harley waved back "oh, um, sorry, hi, I'm, uh, Harley. not to be rude, but I could really go for some chow. lemme hit this." thumbing over his shoulder at the food "be right back."

jumping in line, Harley made his way through quickly, occasionally glancing back at the group over his shoulder between orders while waiting for those in front of him to get their food.

he returned a couple mintes later with his plate loaded up with scrambled eggs with cheese, hash browns, bacon, ham, a couple pork chops, biscuits and gravy, coffee, OJ and some of the fruit.

settling in with the group he asks while eating "so they tell me" *munch, munch* "you've already been at it" *chew, chew* "about a week" *gulp, swallow* "so? what's it like?" as he takes a drink of the coffee making a face.

"man, that's bitter" he pours several packs of sugar into the coffee, stirring it as he listens to the other's responses. leaning over to Solitaire "so 'Solitaire', what's your real name?"

Samuel begins to feel a little better about his... situation. Well... I suppose the powers weren't going to come without a price. Seems a rather steep one though. When he looks up, he finally notices Mr. Logan. He opens his mouth to say hello, but all that comes out is a stream of electrical static. He shuts his mouth, somewhat ashamed. He settles for a smile for now.

Imp smiles and waves at Logan.   "Welcome to club nova, we hope your stay here is both pleasant and free from 3 day marathon building sprees following running an actual marathon.  Call me Impetus."  Imp goes back to scanning through his dossier. "Search and rescue should be a snap now, especially with three of us able to fly" he muses, disaster response could cover anything from volcanoes to tidal waves to nuclear war.  He wasn't sure how he'd be able to really help in situations like that, other than to look good and distract the ladies.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:58, Tue 05 May 2009.

Zero walks into the mess hall reading one of the manuals intently. The Doctor seems to be putting excessive thought into the exercise.

While Zero walks over to get food, it glances at Impetus’s table and counts how many women have wedding rings.

The Doctor stocks up on as much grub as can fit on it’s tray, sits down, hooks up a small blender it stole from the kitchen, and begins blending it’s food with water. It’s hose sticks into the nasty mix and begins downing breakfast.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Zero spends one Willpower to negate Comstock’s success on The Voice. Zero Spends one Willpower to resist urge to kill Comstock. 2 Willpower Spent.

---

Zero suddenly grabs it’s head, squeezing it’s skull in what looks like a lot of pain. The Doctor slams it’s fist into the table, and punches a hole in it with the other hand. Finally Zero looks up at Comstock. It’s head and it’s body language clearly shows it is glaring the man in the eyes. The Doctor raises a twitching hand and points scolding. A deep voice speaks in a disturbingly calm, crisp tone. “I’m going to ask you to stay out of my head, and I’ll stay out of yours. With a scalpel.”

The Doctor suddenly slaps itself very hard. It’s physical demeanor changes back to jovial. “Oh! Silly me! Sorry!” The Doctor’s hand grabs the back of it’s head and Zero begins to laugh it all off. “Hey, sorry to snap like that! But, could you ask before you start walking into a Nova’s head? Ha! Ha! You’ve got to knock!” The Doctor knocks on Comstock’s forehead, jokingly.

“That is a neat trick, though…” Zero changed the subject slightly “…the way you harmonize your voice. You’re voice… it is amazing when you try that trick. And even without it. It sounds… it’s very subtle, but your voice is very different now. Very pleasing. That is a powerful gift you have there, Mr. Stock. I hope you’re planning on putting it to good use. Tell me, do you sing?” The Doctor folds it’s arms.



Zero tilts it’s head thoughtfully. “Oh? How does it taste differently, Mr. Stock?”

Zero covers up the hole in the table with it’s try when Gravitas and Solitaire walk over to join their table. “Good morning! So, what do you think of the new manuals?”

Zero turns and waves very energetically at the new guy. “Hello! I’m Zero! I like puppets! Welcome to the freak show!”



Zero tilts it’s head and stares.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:33, Tue 05 May 2009.

"Honestly?" he finally tosses the second book onto the table in front of him next to the first, "Some of it almost seems like a joke. Some of the rest is stuff I wouldn't have thought of, but that's mostly just because it doesn't really apply to me. The rest..." he shrugged. "I think practical exams would probably be more beneficial, but I've always been the hands-on type."