The world exists again.

"Translation completed," the Tallus announces.

All of you... all eight of you, now... are huddled together in a trash-strewn alley that leads back to a metropolitan area teeming with pedestrians. A discarded newspaper gives the date as (approximately) September 18th, 2006. Midnight tonight is the deadline to register under the Superhuman Registration Act; the Daily Bugle predicts an outbreak of violence as Captain America has vowed to resist the SHRA... "... by any means necessary."

The Tallus chirps:




This message was last edited by the GM at 12:22, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

Rocket sniffs and offers a brief face of disgust.

'Oh god, riddles and no references I could ever hope to draw from.  We were doomed from the start!'

When the Tallus speaks up, Rocket's shoulders droop, and he lets out a heavy sigh.  Counter to pre-established expectations, he says nothing.  He shakes his head, lightly slaps his cheeks a couple times, and looks around to see if anyone has any spark of understanding to give him hope... and what the new guy looks like.

Relationships to go the linked thread, I seeeee.  Also, thank you Timekeeper for the quick fix.

Gwen has just enough time for her costume to go back to superhero mode before things go white.
She's seen that shield before, of course.  It's on the poster in her Dad's office.  She's held that shield.  Been hit in the face by that shield (not her finest moment)


But this was definitely not Samantha Wilson.  Captain America is a white dude?  Weird.

As soon things come into focus, she hops on the wall.  Way too crowded on the ground, and that endless expanse of desert was getting to her.

The newspaper headline checked out with the Captain America that Gwen knew.  At Gwen's trial, Cap stepped up and argued that she should be tried with her Secret Identity intact, particularly since she was a minor.  It still sucked that Murdock knew, but he gets disbarred if he talks and at least it's not out to the whole world.

"Hi RoboCap.  Just, quick question.  This place yours, or are you an interdimensional refugee like the rest of us?
AKA do you know what the hell is going on here?"

Don't just throw out a spider theory about the riddle.  Not everything is about spiders.

Gwen is running around on the playground with Pete in 2006 - not much help she can get from her grade-school aged friends.

OOC: If the red/white/blue in one phrase is annoying I will stop it.  Double for that if Cable doesn't like it.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

Silently appraising the newcomer for a moment, Susan also listened to the Tallus' words.   Contrasted to Rocket, for her, the gist of it dovetailed with her personal philosophies. She looked at the Tallus, adorning one slender, tanned arm, in a somewhat different way than she previously had.

Usual for her, her concerns (and she had plenty) were glossed with flippancy:

"Hey, don't be so bummed out, Twig Daddy. Remember what the dormouse said? Feed your head! We'll get through this, even if we skin the hell out of our knees. Do your people eat brownies?  I'll bake you a whole plate full, if we get time."

Sue's eyes were on the newcomer, awaiting to hear his answer to Gwen's questions. She winced in considering his injuries - like those some guys came home from Nam with - that had necessitated replacing body parts. The only other cyborg she'd met was a real psycho called Deathlok. This one looked more alive than dead, at least.

She wanted to hear his answer first.  And then she'd ask the Tallus for confirmation, so the group could be certain they weren't being shitted...

"If anything sounds fishy, I'll go ask Tallus," she assured the others.  "I think he'll know."

-Credit to the Jefferson Airplane for a few bits.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

While Sue questioned the old man who’d fallen into their collective lap, Sally picked up the newspaper. The Squares would probably chide her for handling garbage, but the grittier members of The Brotherhood shared their own survival skills, including dumpster diving. Sally chuckled at the Jefferson Airplane allusions. “And if the White Knight is talking backwards...well, you said it, Sister. Right on.”

Sally’s eyebrows rose when she saw what the headline announced in “Second Coming” print. “Whoa. That’s some heavy shit.”  She read on, while asking Sue: “Hey, Sue. You wanna ask the Tallus about this Registration? None of our Future Foundation said anything about America going all fascist...er.”

"Cap?" He says aloud. Looking at the shield first and not the person.

He notes carefully the Tallus riddle. "That sounds like Petra is gone here, but there was a Spider-Man before her though, totally unrelated powers."

He listens carefully and pays attention to the minor details with no movement but his tail as he crouches and sniffs, tuning his senses to this "new" place.

Sue noted Tigro, his behavior, 'yep -- just like a cat -- the nose knows!'

To Sally:  She nodded, gave her mutie-hippie sister a thumbs up, unnerved by what Sally was saying.  'Heavy, alright.  Like hobnailed boots heavy...'

Sue'll wait for Cable to make introductions, any group questions asked, and then ask for full mission parameters from the Tallus, including detail about the Registration act.

So, best case is that we're all illegal persons/animals when the ball ends at midnight if we don't sign whatever that is.  If that news isn't two days old.

We need a couple things.  A safe place.  Info.  Communications.  Supplies.  Sue, the Tallus said it can provide 'materiel' so... get us some cash, food, a couple basics?  Rocket... can you get a communication link?  I may have a lead on home base.  The warehouse my band practices in was vacant before, and it should be close."  Just a couple minutes of web-slinging if this New York is laid out like hers.  Longer on foot.

Yes, Gwen is suggesting the warehouse she just died in as a safe place.

"Maybe we split in a couple groups, find what we can, and then we can vote thumbs up or down on registering?"

The old man steps back from his landing spot and half-crouches into a battle-ready stance but stops himself going the whole way when he looks around and sees no immediate danger. Half of his bearded face may be familiar, but the other side is covered with silver metal and a red, cybernetic eye. Sue's mention of Deathlok would prick a memory but he does not react to it, no matter how closely he resembles the remark -- down to the logo of the American flag on his breast. The rest of his body is covered by a gray & blue tactical outfit, at once practical by being covered with pouches, as well as plates of armor placed around his chest and shoulders.

"Where am I?" he asks softly, more to himself than directed at anyone. He looks his gloved hands with bewilderment. "Who am I?" he asks even more softly. When he sees the legendary star-spangled shield on his forearm, a flicker of recognition scatters across his face, but his present look of confusion dims only slightly.

“That’s a question we all ask in this crazy journey called ‘Life’,” Sally said with a kind smile. “We’re in New York, that much I know. But I bet it’s not the New York most of us knew.”

She looked him over slowly, as she gently nudged Sue with her elbow. “While you’re waiting on answers from the Tallus, see if you can get the scoop on the Old Soldier over there. He looks like he’s been through ten Vietnams...”

When Sue requests a change of clothing, the Tallus dutifully materializes eight identical (except for size and cut) gray business suits. If anyone tries them on, they will find that they fit but they are not fitted... robbing them of any gravitas they might otherwise have commanded.

The Tallus also produces identification-- in the form of driver's licenses and passports, all in your civilian names-- and currency in the form of $200 in small bills and two very suspicious looking credit cards. The wallets are also full of various discount club memberships, receipts from various local businesses, and... family photos.

Your family photos. You recognize them. You remember when they were taken. And if any of you had ever been of a mind to carry your family photos on you... you very well may have chosen these.

If Sue wishes to press the matter, it is not so much a matter of convincing the Tallus you need more conspicuous clothing... it's a matter of getting it to understand what, exactly, you need.

It informs you, "Interface upgraded" no fewer than three times over the course of this ridiculous conversation, which takes upwards of ten minutes. However, if anyone had been dissatisfied or perhaps uncomfortable with the clothes they had died in... they are now made whole.

Gwen shifts back to the clothes she wore in the desert, and moves her weight so it looks like she's somehow sitting comfortable on the wall.  She wordlessly hands the clothes, minus the undergarments to Sally, more because she's not messing with the Tallus than her size.  For Gwen, her symbiote is her wardrobe.

She looks through the photos.  The one with Pete kinda stings, but she loved it once.  These days it just makes her feel guilty.

At Cable's short introduction "Pretty sure you're Captain America.  Where is a complicated question.  That paper is what we got."

I'm Spider-woman.  Gwen.  That's Sue, Sally, Wade, Rocket, Tigro, and Iron Fist"  She points to the others one by one.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:49, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

Sue was fairly aghast at the initial manifestation of clothes; jaw a little agape at the prospect of going about dressed like that.

"This is beyond squaresville! This is full out fashion victim!" she bemoaned to Sally.

Fortunately, some verbal wrangling with the Tallus righted the matter.  She began to get a better idea of what it would and wouldn't understand.  And, the upgrading was encouraging from her viewpoint, more than annoying.   Quite a feat of AI, really; Reed would have been both impressed, as well as jealous.

Sue spent whatever time was needed to improve the clothing.   Back home, she wasn't only a hippy.  She kept a few toes in another lifestlye, a more conservative one, notwithstanding that some of her brothers & sisters took issue with it.    She was her own woman, had her reasons, and hell, a Gemini to boot.

She'd no clue what was in style thirty seven years past her time.   But, Gwen didn't dress like one of the Jetsons, exactly, and she wagered some things slower to go out of style than others.

She ended up with a fitted blouse, knee-length skirt, brown leather heel boots, and a small, suede purse.  She consulted Gwen:

"Ok, so are these threads going to pass in 2006?"   And then there was of course the Tallus.

"Tallus - can you conceal yourself?  Future or no, I doubt you're going to pass as a designer accessory."   

"And we now need full mission parameters from you.   As well as whatever information you can give us about our new friend here," she added, taking Sally's request.

The Tallus starts vibrating violently against Sue's forearm and grows painfully hot for almost a minute-- she isn't seriously burned, but it smarts.

The Tallus emits a short, sharp squeal. "negative."



It chirps again, almost as brightly as the first time.



OOC: Let me finish following up with our cyborg friend before I decide what to reveal about him right now.

"Not what I wore for my first week of school, but it should do."  If she wants to wear heels, that seems a little unwise but not Gwen's problem.  I should make sure that ID doesn't have my real birthdate on it.  No use in one that says I'm 5.

Sue winced in pain, as the Tallus attempted to -- what, merge itself into her arm?  She was just as glad it failed.

"Okay, fine, I can just turn you invisible when it's a matter of blending in.   Do you anticipate issues or complications if I do?  Do you need a sample of how my power works, so we can avoid those?" 

"And what's the hard limit on clothing?  Clothing that blends in, and is good to fight in, aren't the same. People in our line of work usually need street clothes and battle attire."