"Well, I'm no paramedic," Dragón said, "but unless he needs an I.V. or something, I should be able to keep him stable."  He gave a nudge to the Asian woman in the metal "cocoon" next to him.  "If nothing else, we've got Dr. Akada here.  She was probably partly on this trip to take care of the boy in transit.  I'm pretty sure she can be 'persuaded' to help out."

He then turned his head and looked into the back.  Colonel Gutierrez was scowling at the little window in the cocoon as if it might be sufficiently intimidated by his displeasure to want to let him out.  On the other side of the narrow compartment was the poor boy in his wheelchair.  "Can you tell if the boy is conscious?  Can he talk to us?"

" His eyes are closed and he's not controlling his head in any way, so I'm assuming he's unconscious.  Probably drugged for the flight. I've found that rolling over and opening the compartment and releasing restraint devices, one by one, is a very effective motivator for compliance.  I seem to have hit her a touch too hard and she's still out of it, if we need to wake her up I can extrude a wire that is heated to about 1000C.  That should wake her up in short order.

"Um...yeah," Dragón said, shifting a little awkwardly in his seat, "let's, uh, hold that white-hot wire as a last resort, shall we?  A little bump of turbulence at the wrong moment and we could wind up severing a limb with that thing."  He couldn't fault the guy's efficiency and professionalism, but sometimes he said or did things that made part of him wonder if Wheelman wasn't a machine that changed into a human shape.

"I'm all for the gravity-based motivator, though.  If she turns out to be a real hard case and holds out until you have to drop her, I'll just let her fall far enough to put the fear of Isaac Newton in her, then scoop her up for another go-round."

" Of course, Colonel.  I'll isolate the good Doctor."  Dividers extruded from the floor of the passenger compartment and merged with the canopy. Then the ship spoke, " Hello, Doctor, your records indicate that you completed your graduate studies in the Mayo clinic before transitioning to the Utopian programs, so I assume you speak English.  Eigo hanasemasu ka?" She nodded her assent. "My Japanese is not as proficient as I would like, my apologies.  We require information about the child.  Giving us said information will spare you discomfort, I suggest you comply." Nothing. "Very well" Sean rolled and retracted the canopy.  he was inside the atmosphere, so the doctor didn't decompress immediately.  After 30 seconds he closed the canopy.  After gasping for breath for a bit the doctor regained her composure, eyes wild but her mouth set in a defiant line.  " Will you answer our questions?. Nothing. "Interesting, then you are no further use to us."  The restraints fell away, dropping her to the canopy.  After giving her a few seconds to get her bearings, to realize what was about to happen, and for her eyes to go wide with terror, Sean retracted the canopy again, dropping her unceremoniously out of the plane at 10,000 meters.  After a few seconds he isolated Dragon's seat and retracted his canopy. " She should be sufficiently panicked now, Colonel, bringing her back to the safetly of the vehicle should loosen her tongue enough for our purposes."

Dragón knew from his jump training that it would take her almost four minutes to reach the ground.  That was a very...very long time to contemplate greeting eternity as a splatter on the landscape.  When Wheelman flipped over and opened the canopy, Dragón dropped out, head first with his arms at his side.  There was a broad grin on his face.  Dios he had missed this.

Below him, he could see the scientist tumbling and flailing.  With his more aerodynamic posture, he was gaining quickly on her.  To keep her from spotting him and counting on a rescue, he shifted his eufiber to the color of the sky.  He positioned himself off to the side and a little above her so that when he did "swoop in," he could shift her freefall into flight with the least amount of impact.  After the first couple of minutes, she stopped screaming.  At this height, the only indication of how fast the ground was coming up to smack you was the wind whipping past.  But as they got closer, the 90 plus mile-per-hour closing speed became more and more obvious.  Details of the jungle terrain below began to resolve themselves.  Dragón wondered if she thought the leafy canopy would break her fall.  It will definitely break something, he thought.

Watching her, he knew she had to know she was seconds from impact.  Her eyes were squeezed shut and her jaw was clinched.  Just for the sake of dramatic effect, he slid in as gently as possible, and turned her fall into flight without slacking the speed.  When several seconds had passed and she hadn't passed into oblivion, she hesitantly opened her eyes.  When she she saw that Dragón was carrying her, he suddenly found himself virtually wearing a panicked, middle-aged, Japanese woman.

He deposited the violently trembling woman carefully into her seat then settled into his own.  "Consider that a preview of coming attractions unless you are a little more cooperative," he said once the canopy had slid closed.

Wheelman waited for the woman to stop hyperventilating.  Once that happened she began (if his translation software was to be believed) cursing him, the gods, novas, the child, him again, General Cruz, and the Lt. Colonel.  He saved the audio file for analysis later and waited until she had run down.  Once that happened he rolled.  Her immediate silence was proof that she had regained her wits, and he resumed a more normal orientation.  "Now, Doctor, I apologize for dropping you earlier, and I have no wish to do so again, but unless you cooperate I'm going to make for the Caribbean where Hurricane Comstock is currently making life hell for the inhabitants of Haiti.  I will drop you into said Hurricane unless you cooperate, is that understood?"  Her suddenly ashen pallor and frantic nodding, followed by a rather raspy, "Yes," was most gratifying.  Wheelman took no pleasure from torturing or terrorizing people, not that he took much pleasure from anything while he was shifted, but still.
Once he and the Colonel had gotten as much information from her as she could provide he spoke discretely through Colonel Devarga's com system.  "Do you want to interrogate our other prisoner now?"

Dragón looked back at Teniente Coronel Gutierrez.  In his eyes, he saw the hard...glint, for lack of a better word...of a combat veteran.  Someone who had tested his courage in a life or death situation.

Turning back forward, Dragón spoke quietly into the mic of his headset.  "I'm pretty sure we're not going to be able to intimidate this one.  Let's get him to a nice, private room where someone with a lot more subtlety upstairs can work him over," he said, tapping his temple.  Now all they had to do was keep him safe and secure until they could get him securely under wraps.

" Very good, Colonel. It's going to get a bit choppy in a minute, I'll be dropping down to road level for the second stage of our approach to the safe house." An hour later a battered 2 ton with 4 passengers rolled to a stop next to a trail head that lead up into one of the arroyos in southern Arizona. Wheelman changed for what he hoped would be the last time for the approach, this time into something resembling a gigantic matte black robotic centipede with 3 rather large bulges in its carapace. " Ready when you are, Colonel. Let's get to where we need to be with all due haste, whatever they've given the. Child is wearing off."

Dragón set off at a fast jog, staying alert for anyone who might see them.  If Phantasm was concerned that flying in would break the safe-house's cover, there must be eyes around to see.  In this terrain, shepherds, usually Native American, had widely scattered trailer camps where an extended family might live for part of the year as they moved their flocks between pastures.   Then he recalled that Fort Huachua and Davis Monthan Air Force Base were not too far north of here.  They wouldn't take too kindly to unidentified aircraft cruising into the area, even if they were technically still in Mexico.

He wound his way through the terrain, threading gaps between desert rocks and tall cacti, staying off of ridge lines, alert for any watching eyes.  “It's too bad we couldn't have pulled in here at night,” he said, “I could just pick you all up and give you a smoother ride.”  Behind him, he could hear the steady drum-roll sound of dozens of pairs of legs striking the ground in rapid succession, letting him know Wheelman was still behind him.  Finding the base of the narrow trail that led up the side of the low mesa presented only a minor difficulty.

Up top, the apparent ruins of a small mud-brick cottage concealed the entrance to the small but comfortable safe house.  His first order of business was seeing that the young boy was being tended to.  Once that was done, he used his comm to signal Phantasm again.

“Hola Bonita,” he said, “we're all tucked away in this little desert bungalow.  Our patient seems stable for the time being, but we really ought to get him in somewhere we can keep him more comfortably.”

The Queen of Hearts gasped as her back connected with something that was harder than she was. It turned out to be a steel support pillar for the high rise that she had just unceremoniously crashed through. As she glanced back, she noted that it was bent to a quite unnatural angle and she could hear the other supports starting to give way as well now that the balance has been thrown off. The whole thing was a write off, it had hours at most, hopefully enough time to get the people out.

She spat out a mouthful of blood, then wiped her mouth with the back of her left hand. God damn was she getting her ass handed to her. Not only had The Dark One showed up out of nowhere, her foe looked a hell of a lot liker her, except evil.

"Come now Sister. Is that all you have? I'm disappointed." The Other One said as she floated down through the new skylight she had made. Her darker than black coat was spotless, her boots mirror-polished. Her eyes were cold and amused, and that smile...

"Who the hell are you!" The Queen of Hearts demanded, trying desperately to buy time catch her breath. Her bubblegum pink hair was mussed, and her stylish suit was in tatters, but she still looked the part of the Queen somehow, if a rather battered and bedraggled one.

"Can't you tell Sister? I'm you, except I'm the real one. Do you want a hug?" The Solitaire said, holding out her arms mockingly. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"What do you want? Why are you doing this?" The Queen of Hearts asked. Just a little more time, her friends must surely be on their way...

The Solitaire laughed. "I want what we all should want. As to why? Because I can, because I must, BECAUSE I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES ENOUGH." The Other One screamed the last, her expression manic. Then, suddenly as it had come, her expression cleared. "Because you all gave up."

The Queen of Hearts flinched. She flinched. She had forgotten what fear was after all these years, and this woman terrified her. She turned to flee, anywhere was better than here, but The Solitaire was already in front of her and had a hand on her throat. The Queen of Hearts reached deep inside herself, calling upon all of her power, more than she ever had before, more than she could possibly control. She burned with it, flaring like the sun inside the soon to be wreckage of that skyscraper. She poured it all down her arm into her fist, feeling her nerves, her muscles, her very soul burning with it and hammered that fist and all the power she had ever mustered into The Dark One's face.

The Solitaire's head rocked back... Slightly. A small trickle of silver blood lethargically dripped from her nose and she smiled that terrible smile.

"Well now Sister, I suppose you had some fight in you after all. You are perhaps worthy, but you and all the others like you stand in my way. There can be only one Solitaire."

There was an audible snap.

Dreams don't have to make sense, though as dreams go, this one probably made less sense than most.  A squirrel climbed a pomegranate tree in the shopping mall, darting away from the crowds of people that hurried by. The sun shone through the stained glass skylights, dappling everything in rainbow hues. Dolphins swam in the little river that flowed out of Dillards, winding through the shopping mall until it plunged gracefully into the pond in front of Sears.  Though really, the most unbelievable part was that there was still a Sears in this mall.

Dreams don't care about the when and the were of things, nor are they overly picky about whether their inhabitants are living or dead. Perhaps that was why so many familiar faces were here, despite the impossibility of it all.  There was Pratima, happily leaving a store with a new Coach purse.  Zero was at the food court, harassing the operator of the ubiquitous fast-food faux-Chinese restaurant about the carcinogens in the meal he was eating.  And there was Dan Walker, the man, not the trans-dimensional ghost that he became, sitting on a bench, feeding the squirrels in front of William-Sonoma.

"Oh.  You're here.  Would you like to have a seat?  Some others may join us soon..."  He gestured at the open bench space beside him.  The squirrel occupying the space, irritated at the new arrivals, testily snatched up its recent purchases and moved on to finish its shopping.  "They're wandering around right now, but I'm hoping they'll find their way here before they leave."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Another small dream sequence to get people interacting with one another.  Notably there are only novas, psions, and daredevils here, basically anyone that was touched by Z-waves at some point, ranging from the hammersmith incident in the early 20th century through the venezuala incident in the 22nd century.  Feel free to write yourself wandering around, running into each other, or meeting and dealing with unresolved issues you would like to play out.  For example, if there is a dead person you want to talk to, or you just really want to have a scene shopping with Whitley Styles.  Eventually you should wind up on the bench by Dan, but you can take your time.  It's also alright if you are actually a giant satellite instead of a person, the dream will accommodate you :)

---

In reply to Rydi (msg # 477):
Sean awoke to the sound of indistinctly cheerful music. He shook himself all the way awake, sat up, and realized that he was in the bedding department in Sears.  He looked around and saw crowds of people, checking out beds, talking to the sales clerks.  Nobody paid him the slightest mind.  He ran all the possible reasons for his current situation and came to what seemed to be the only logical conclusion, This has to be a dream,, he thought to himself.  He rose, straightened his suit, and headed for the exit.  Out on the atrium he paused, dolphins swimming in a river in the centre of a mall wasn't something he'd seen before, even the vulgar shopping mall the prince had built in Dubai didn't have ceatans swimming through it.
He paused at an automated drink kiosk and selected a steaming hot cup of glögg.  It was perfect, just the right amount of raisins to accent the brandy.  Sipping his drink, Sean wandered bemusedly down the atrium, looking in shop windows, surreptitiously scoping out the crowd.  He could have sworn he saw the back of Johnny's head in the crowd, but dismissed it.  Besides, Johnny didn't really know Sean that well, he'd spent far more time tearing it up with Paidrag.
Sean found himself a seat at a table beside the river and admired the interplay of light through the skylight.  As far as dreams went, this one was pretty pleasant.

Phantasm "woke" with a start, realizing immediately that she was in some sort of psy-scape, but unable to make sense of the place.  As a dolphin stopped its swim to click at her, Phantasm took in the scenery and contemplated the situation. I thought my mind was protected from this sort of thing. Either they're on a whole different level than I am, or this is something entirely different from psychic nova tricks. Either way, standing around isn't going to get me anywhere.  With a polite nod to the dolphin, Phantasm moved away from the river to explore.

Moving past a pet store selling exotic animals and a pickled meats vendor, Phantasm spotted someone sitting idly in front of a cooking store.  Ah, now things make more sense.  Spotting Dan Walker at the far end of the mall was the clue she needed.  He wasn't an ordinary nova, and she had hazy memories of other dreamscapes like this.  But Phantasm wasn't quite ready to talk to Walker yet.  She had another goal in mind.

Scanning the crowd for familiar faces, Phantasm searched for her friends.  It had been a long time since she'd seen them, but odds were that they would be here as well.  She thought she caught a glimpse of Gale walking beside Impetus, and a glint of a metallic face over by Sears that might have been Dillon, but before she could move toward them another man inadvertently blocked her path.  Nearly bumping into him despite her senses and reflexes, Phantasm was annoyed with him and the cup of glogg he was holding.

"Ugh.  Hey, watch where you're goin' man!" She was about to walk on, but she'd lost track of her friends.  And this guy looked familiar.  "Hey, do I know you?"

"Ah, Miss Phantasm, a very long time no see," Sean nodded his head courteously.  "I believe we met via Nova Vigilance some years ago, while I was working with Col. DeVarga.  Am I right in presuming that we are in some sort of alternate, shared, cognitive state? If so, and if you have some experience with such, I would very much like to know what we might expect from this experience.  I don't get the sense that this is a hostile environment, but non-hostile facades over malign intentions is something of a trope in horror movies, particularly those involving nova antagonists."

In reply to Wheelman (msg # 480):

Phantasm blinked.  Possible I guess, though I haven't forgotten a face since I erupted.  Maybe it's this place.  The last time with walker it was almost like it showed our inner selves instead of just the masks we wear.

Recovering quickly, Phantasm started talking quickly as she continued to process the situation.  "Shame about what vigilance dissolved into.  I hoped it would be more... I don't know, just more.  Anyway, yeah, we're in a not-quite-dreamscape.  More like some sort of quantum-based dimensional crossroads.  And that guy at the other end of this "mall" sitting on that bench is probably the one that brought us here.  At least he's done it before anyway.  He seems to pull "promising" people together, ones that he think have the potential to impact the timestream or something.  Honestly though, half of the stuff he goes on about doesn't make sense or is unprovable, and the other half doesn't come true.  I never decided whether he was nuts or just part of something beyond our comprehension... though I guess it could be both."

Amrit could not believe his eyes.  Moments before, he had been in the shelter.  Now, he stood amid rows of goods.  Clothing, food, jewelry, appliances.  No sign of the Elites, not a weapon in sight, and great fish tanks full of happy, easy-going, colorful reef fish not for food but for decoration.  "Is this paradise?" he remarked to the air.  Moving to the exit of the department store, he spied the name Sears.  "English ... I am in North America, then?  I thank you for this new journey."

He was a thin man, slight of frame, with features that could have come from any of a number of places adjoining the Indian Ocean.  Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he marveled at how clean he was and how fine his clothes were.  He wandered the isles, picking up various objects and chuckling at the experience.  Such luxuries were outside of his recent experience, and a joy to behold.

He wandered toward the door, but paused.  Next to the door there mannequin, dressed in a pink polo, tight jeans, and a baseball cap sitting askew.  But the mannequin was solid silver, and its face was the face of the Comstock.  The Warlord.  The Immortal Elite.  The devil himself.  "And what are you doing here in this strange paradise?"  The face was wrong, somehow.  The Warlord was never without guns and trophies of his kills, but this face was pensive.  Thoughtful.  Sad, even?  Certainly not the grim killer atop a mountain of skulls.  "Perhaps you are not the you I know.  But if you will not tell me why I am here, I wish you peace."

Stepping out, Amrit drank in the bizarre sights.  This could not be North America.  This was too bizarre.  He approached the first living person he saw, now concerned.  "Tell me, where is this?  What is going on?  I cannot-" he noticed, in the distance, Dan Walker feeding the squirrels, "-that is, I should not be here.  I think."

Gale wasn't sure exactly when she became aware of the dream.  It appeared she had been walking down the hallway on the second floor, a brightly colored shopping bag in hand.  But... When was the last time she had been in a mall?  The winged woman stopped immediately, and taking in more of her surroundings, she realized that things were definitely not right.  The hair rose on the back of her neck.

She launched herself over the railing, landing on the first floor with enough force to crack the tile.  She spotted Dan Walker on the bench some distance away, and was going to head straight for him when she heard somebody exiting a store nearby.

"First time in a dreamscape?" she asked, head tilting to one side as she studied the young man next to her.  "Don't worry. It's always weird." As if she knew what was going on.

Inhale...exhale, 5; Inhale...exhale, 6; Inhale...my hair itches, how can your hair itch?  Grrr...like bubbles in the stream, just let it go.  Inhale...exhale, 1; Inhales...exhale, 2...

Serenade blinked in confusion, squinting her eyes at the bright light.  Softly closing her eyes, she came back to her breath in an attempt to come back to the now.  But she was not in the now.  She was looking into the display window of Earthbound, and smelling the cheap incense that attracted trendy teen hippies instead of her own.  Looking around to ensure that she wasn't being watched, she pinched herself to make sure that she wasn't dreaming...that is what you were supposed to do, right?  Not waking up, she took one last look inside the trendy new age-y store and began to wander around looking for someone who could explain to her how she went from meditating to hanging around a mall.

A dolphin stopped to look at her, "Do you know what the Hell is going on?"

"Merkwürdig..."  Wilhelm could not recall being a shopping mall before.  Other pieces of municipal infrastructure certainly, but never a mall.  "Ein Traum, dann..."  There was only one way to be certain; make a change.  A mall couldn't pinch itself after all.  Only incremental changes at first, though.  There was no telling who was watching.  The muzak, perhaps?  Wilhelm extended their focus to the concept of music.  By increments the muzak changed, first a mariachi horn section, then some Hawaiian slack-key guitar, and finally a Vangelis synth line.  "So wie wir dachten."  It was a dream.  This raised other questions.  Wilhelm recognized some faces within from years past.  Was everyone in Wilhelm's dream?  Was Wilhelm in someone else's?  Wilhelm would have to turn inside out to see.  Slowly, and in a way that would probably make one nauseous if one thought about it too closely, the shopping mall became Pall Mall circa 1890.  The muzak persisted nonetheless.  The Pretzelmaker became the Diogenes Club and Wilhelm took it for a mouth, speaking through it.  "Whoever is not of us, whoever is responsible for this, reveal yourself."  A wary eye was kept open to watch for any sign the dream-master couldn't maintain control over so large a visible environment as the whole of London.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Fri 28 Apr 2017.

"Weird is a word insufficient to this marvel," Amrit remarked to Gale as the entire shopping mall underwent a variety of changes.  The Hell Kraken's slow modifications made everything less familiar, more alarming, and the voice from the Diogenes club reverberated in his sensitive ears like that of a ponderous deity.  "My mother called me Amrit, and despite my life it is the name I keep."

He stared.  "You are a not the Skymother.  You have her face, her wings, and her essence, but you are not her.  And the Warlord was not the Warlord.  So who is the dreamer?  Is it you?  Or I?"  The thin man smirked.  "Or perhaps it is the shopping mall, dreaming it is Olympus?  Or a butterfly dreaming it is a man?"

"Nice to meet you, Amrit, under the circumstances," Gale replied with a nod of her head.  The mall was changing around them. That didn't seem usual for a dreamscape.  And this new person she didn't recognize seemed to recognize her. Hadn't someone else mentioned glimpsing alternate versions of themselves?  She briefly wondered what this Skymother was like.

She decided to get to Walker before anything else got weirder.  "Come with me." It was a suggestion more than an actual command, but she didn't wait for Amrit's response before she was striding for the bench where Walker sat.

"Yes.  Of course." It seemed as reasonable a course of action as any.  He followed.  "Do you know where we are going?  Or who this man is?"

Wilhelm's changes warped the area, though there was resistance.  Dramatic changes flickered into "reality" for an instant, only to be replaced with even stranger amalgamations.  The mall became a crowded street in London, then was replaced by an ominous blend of the two.  The darkened interior of the mall was illuminated by gaslight, throwing shadows against the crowded stalls lining the edges of the shopping mall's corridors.  Small maintenance halls interrupted the smooth walls intermittently, like darkened alleys, leading to unknown destinations.  From one of these, a gray-cloaked Traveler emerged, hood pulled low to hide features and intent, though a smiled crossed the wanderer's lips.  A voice escaped the hood. "Now what have you been up to Walker? You were supposed to be dead..."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Anyone with a mega-perception of 3+ can catch a hint that someone hidden is lurking about, mega-perception 4+ hears the spoken words

---

The Diogenes Club replaced the William-Sonoma.  Inside a dolphin floated idly in a pool by the fireplace, contemplating a chess board and an extensive collection of copper cookware; it looked up angrily at Wilhelm's booming voice, as did the squirrels silently reading at several nearby tables.  From the Stranger's Room, Dan Walker's tired eyes glanced up and he spoke, quiet but firm.  "I'm only partially responsible for this, but I'm happy to sit and have a chat if that will help you feel more comfortable."

On the street outside the club, Gail and Amrit approached a bench, but not the one Dan was sitting at.  Dan was clearly visible through a large window, but anyone visiting him would now have to traverse the club to reach him.  Seated at this bench was a young woman, probably Latina, probably in her middle teens.  The bench was clearly visible through her transparent body, and she looked up hopefully at Gail and Amrit as the came near.

The others found themselves near the Club when the dream-reality stabilized.  Wheelman and Phantasm were perhaps a hundred meters away from the building, and they were within arm's reach of Serenade, who was currently asking a passing dolphin for information. Serenade received no answer from the dolphin, but did notice several others converging in the area, including a few familiar faces.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:44, Thu 31 Aug 2017.

"The setting shifted, and I'm not sure why.  Maybe there is something 'malign' lurking under the façade after all.  Makes me want to hurry up and get this over with."  Phantasm looked at Sean and pointed to the Diogenes.  "You want to go explore this place?  It seems like the scenery is dragging us here anyway... Oh, hey, lets grab another friend on the way."

Phantasm stalked up to the distracted Serenade.  Not on purpose really, she just "stalked" as a matter of course at this point. "That you Serenade?  Or just a dream-shadow-illusion thingy?  Either way, you want to come with us?  We're on our way to see the man behind the curtain."

Guess I'm just going to keep collecting the lost ones, Gale thought to herself with a sigh as she continued to approach the bench.  She was pretty sure she didn't recognize this person either.  But she wasn't one to leave someone behind, and if they were here in Walker's dreamscape, then they weren't just anybody.

"Are you all right?" the winged woman asked, pausing in front of the transparent girl on the bench.  She offered a clawed hand to help the teen stand if she wanted it.  "Don't be scared.  This is just a very complicated dream.  We need to get over there."  She pointed with her other hand in the direction she had last seen Walker.  He certainly wasn't making it easy for him to be found, what with changing the landscape on them.