[Dominic Weaver]

Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. + Will Chase + Mason Warner + Claire Elliot + Alice Morrow + Persephone Dean

Surge flexed his fingers in the strangely metallic material of his gloves. Stephen had assured Alice, and then Alice had assured him that it could conduct electricity, and it had fulfilled its purpose every time they had gone out. It hadn't been cheap either, although he was more than aware of the benefits of investment. After all, no gloves might have led to scarring his knuckles every time he punched someone, not to mention the problems leaving fingerprints could have caused with the SFPD. Shortly after the video of Paladin leaping thirty feet into the air had been released online the police department had released their own statement. Vigilantism was frowned upon, heavily, and anyone caught in the act would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. He wondered how much of that reaction was to do with what they were doing, and how much was a result of cops on the take informing that decision. He knew that Overwatch had taken down a lot of the corruption in the SFPD before he was discharged, but greed was tenacious, and it always found a way in. He looked at the concrete before them, seeing the shadow of a tunnel in the smooth grey. Overwatch had found out about this place, Surge still wasn't sure exactly how, but he'd worked out that this was where the Doctor was, and that something big was about to happen. Surge hadn't been sure about coming in costume, or indeed, coming at all. Paladin and Spectre had pushed for it however. Two of the group had now met this mysterious Doctor, and he had to admit that he was intrigued. She had saved his life, saved all of them. These abilities he now wielded were gifts from her. That and he was suspicious of what was really going on. Overwatch's story of what had happened in the mysterious metahuman bar had been confusing, but it had revealed that whatever the Doctor was doing, it went a lot further than the six of them. The tunnels were pretty well hidden from civilisation. He looked to the others, feeling trepidation at what could lie ahead. These tunnels looked like they had been abandoned decades ago, and only received attention from urban adventurers and the occasional photographer. It really was the perfect place to get up to no good. He started up the concrete slope, taking the lead. The tension was building in his chest, and he really had no idea what to expect. The mouth of the tunnel gaped, half submerged in concrete beneath the overpass. There was little sign of habitation but when he looked closer he realised that the doors just inside the yawning opening were new. They glinted dully in the dim light and he realised they were steel, and from the look of it, very heavy. Someone had been up here recently, and apparently they did not want to be disturbed. There were flecks of concrete where the hinges had been bolted into the rock, and the exposed concrete was still pale. Nature hadn't had enough time to weather it. He shrugged, looked at the others, and knocked.

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[Persephone Dean]

The Event

In the days that followed that fateful ambush which had led to the exposure of Paladin’s abilities, Duchess had been on a little project of her own. She’d noticed a small black card left behind at one of the tables of the restaurant and had tucked it neatly into her apron along with the generous tip. The card itself did not reveal anything more – a glossy spade its only detail – but she’d begun to notice the symbol popping up in other places. Searching the internet for “black spade” hardly revealed anything due its more salient meaning, but Duchess was beginning to feel like she was pulling on a thread that she wanted to keep pulling.

A few faces were becoming familiar. Just a couple, but enough for her to notice that they were in the same place as that enigmatic black card at the same time on more than one occasion. It meant something. A movement. A group, maybe? Duchess had begun actively seeking it out, visiting places she never normally would in the hope of spotting that symbol once more. Surely someone would notice her eventually. The inevitable fame that Dom was sending them towards as superheroes could only help in her endeavour to unravel the mystery.

Perhaps it was as she had hoped, and that secret underworld of people with abilities was casting its net for the mysterious vigilantes who had so unexpectedly made headline news. Paladin was the star, but Duchess had been a supporting character in the footage – her costume grainy but visible in the back of the shot. Someone had to notice soon.

She was incredibly envious of Spectre who had mysteriously run into the Doctor and apparently failed to unveil anything of importance beyond an “understanding of her motives” which Duchess really wasn’t interested in exploring. What mattered was the end goal, and that was what they were here to find out.

Overwatch had certainly proved his worth, putting his detective skills to good use, and it was all thanks to him that they were now stood before some long-forgotten nuclear escape tunnels ready to confront the Doctor and unveil her plan once and for all. Duchess had prepared heavily for the occasion, the little pouches on her belt full of carefully ordered potions, powders and poisons. She’d distributed a few healing salves to the rest of the group, glad to be at least partially rid of the responsibility of playing nurse.

“You think she’s expecting company?” Duchess asked dryly as Surge approached the heavy steel doors before them. “I’d hate for this to be a bad time…”

Will Chase | Alice Morrow | Mason Warner | Claire Elliot | Dominic Weaver

434 words

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[Will Chase]

The bar had certainly been a gold mine of information. Though he hadn't learned the doctor's plan there, or even her motives, he had discovered one very important fact. He'd learned where she was. Los Angeles, in some underground complex. He didn't know the area, which was disturbing for him; Will had lived in San Francisco for decades, he knew the city like the back of his hand, could find his way from his apartment to any of a dozen different significant places with his eyes shut. But he wasn't in San Francisco anymore, he was in Los Angeles. That was a huge difference, especially when he'd only ever left San Francisco to visit family or go on vacation, never to investigate strange underground tunnels in search of a strange woman with even stranger powers. Will didn't like this. Call it instinct, or perhaps a product of his power. There was something... wrong. Something about this place was foreboding, like something momentous was about to happen. The information Mason had brought back from his own meeting with the Doctor But he wasn't a man given to random fantasy, so he brushed it off. A mistake, on his part. The weather was certainly suitable for the occasion. The clouded sky left the light as dim and grey, and the powerful wind sent loose clothing flapping everywhere. The only thing that could've made it even better suited would be rain. Will shook his head in mild despair; he knew he was being melodramatic when he started thinking about whether the weather was suitable for what he was doing. The knock of Dom's hand on the door forced Will out of his reverie and back into the real world. Unfortunately, the result of this was that he was left feeling just as awkward as the rest of them as nothing happened for a while. Then, the sound of footsteps on the other side. There was a sound of metal grinding on metal, like some heavy bar was being removed. The door opened. It soon became obvious that we were but on the threshold of the discovery. Will Chase 338 Words

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[Alice Morrow]

Paladin Am I more than you bargained for yet? + Mason Warner + Claire Elliot + Dominic Weaver + Persephone Dean + Will Chase + wearing

Nobody had expected the man who had opened the door. His laboured breathing was heard before he was seen, the door opening smoothly and silently on greased hinges. Small eyes looked out from amidst thick folds of flesh, and they widened, not in surprise, but perhaps, expectance? The man was huge, not particularly tall, perhaps five foot nine, but he filled the small, bright doorway, blocking out a good portion of the light with his rotund bulk. One pudgy hand clutched a metal walking stick, the cheap adjustable kind hospitals issued you with. His waistline must have been that of any three of them put together and was spanned by a pair of cheap grey sweatpants. His baggy sweatshirt did nothing to conceal his enormous stomach, or the fact that it overhung the flimsy elastic waistband of his pants. Simply put, he was the most enormously obese man Paladin had ever seen. She did expect him to say what he did next. "Took you long enough." Paladin glanced at the others, stepping forwards. "Seriously super-villainy, but it would have been better if you'd said you were expecting us…" The man said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow, though a quirk of his lips suggested amusement on his part. Surge stepped up next to Paladin, interrupting. "Sorry, but who are you?" He stepped backwards, gesturing that they should enter. "Just the doorman." Surge looked at the others, and with a shrug, stepped forwards. A moment later Paladin followed him, as did the others. The man shut the door behind them, and then a second later opened it again. Paladin's jaw, thankfully concealed behind her mask, dropped. Beyond the door was no longer the dark and overcast night sky of Los Angeles, but a massive concrete chamber. There was a strange metal gantry in the centre of it, and complicated looking machinery clinging to the walls. A figure in a long white coat stood atop the gantry, bent over some sort of control panel. They looked up. Paladin realised this must be the Doctor. She smiled broadly at their entrance, and gestured for them to come further into the room, descending the gantry to come towards them. "I am glad you've come, it wouldn't have seemed right to do this without you all." She paused to inspect them, not surprised by the colourful costumes, but certainly not entirely impressed. "I must admit this wasn't quite what I expected, but who am I to judge on cloak and dagger techniques?" Paladin stared at her wide eyed, then hugged her suddenly. To say the Doctor was surprised would have been an understatement, and she heard the heavy man behind them take a step forwards. After a moment however the short blonde woman realised what was really going on and confusedly returned it. Stepping back suddenly, Paladin wished she had a mask that covered more of her face. She was blushing furiously at her sudden outburst of emotion. "Sorry… ummm… it's just… you saved my life, and gave me powers and everything and I just realised then that I…" The Doctor was staring at her and in her awkwardness Paladin's last words came out in a rush. "Neverreallysaidthanks…"

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[Mason Warner]

The Event

Having only just shaken off his fuzzy-headed, heavy-hearted spout of depression in the last 24 hours, Mason hadn’t yet brought himself to find the right moment to tell Alice that she was his child. Finally she’d know that her father hadn’t abandoned her – not by choice – and that he was here to be in her life as much or as little as she needed. It was a heavy conversation, joyful but immensely mind-blowing, and Mason hadn’t wanted to deliver his “Alice, I Am Your Father” speech without being in the right emotional place.

This morning, Mason had begun to feel in that place. He would tell her once they had finished their business with the Doctor, away from everyone else. Claire already knew, of course; he’d needed someone to confide in and assure him he was making the right call. He didn’t mind the others knowing either but he also didn’t want to place Alice under any more pressure than she already was.

In a way, he was prepared for her to reject him as a parent and move on with her life as though he’d never said anything. He hoped for a chance at being the father he’d always dreamed of, but things were obviously more complex when your newborn was a fully-fledged eighteen-year-old.

Their swift journey down to LA had been of a completely different tone to that of Mason and Claire’s road trip down to Seal Beach. Now there was a tension in the air; apprehensive faces unsure of what to expect from these secret tunnels beneath Los Angeles. It wasn’t Mason returning to South California at all but the noble Spectre – ready to act in the name of justice.

Spectre was just as startled as the rest of the group to be greeted by a broad, squat man – not even dressed up for the occasion which he had clearly been anticipating. The grey sweatpants and mass of white pudge protruding from the bottom of his sweatshirt seemed completely at odds with the Doctor’s image. Was this some kind of joke?

‘The doorman’. It had more weight to it than usual. A title of sorts.

Following Surge’s lead, Spectre hesitantly followed his team through the doorway. The doorman almost shut it on him – clearly not blessed with the Doctor’s “eyesight” – before performing his first magic trick of the night. Gone was the city they had just stepped out from. A new, unfamiliar room loomed through the doorway; the Doctor’s lair.

Spectre kept back from the group, keeping his distance from the Doctor and her doorman. He may have discovered a newfound sympathy for her motives, but he had also gained quite an insight into how powerful she was and Spectre wasn’t taking chances with either her or the company she kept.

It was quite difficult to keep himself from shouting out as Paladin – his daughter – enveloped the woman in a sudden, awkward hug. Even the powerful, superhuman doctor was taken by surprise, but fortunately she didn’t seem to take offence. Spectre was aware that trying to stay hidden from the Doctor was a ridiculous exercise, but keeping his exact location a secret from the doorman (Doorman?) felt like a good idea. The guy clearly had some powers of his own and Spectre wasn’t eager to test the man’s capabilities just yet.

The Doctor was staring at Paladin.

“You’re welcome,” she said eventually, observing the young hero with a bemused smile on her face.

Spectre didn’t trust it.

Claire Elliot | Dominic Weaver | Persephone Dean | Will Chase | Alice Morrow

580 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 616

TAGS: Dominic Weaver

So much had happened. She swore to herself there'd be no more of this; of coming out and joining this group's escapades. Yet, here she was following in the back besides Will - the detective she'd come to trust and definitely have the most in common with when it came to viewing the dangers of their situations - and, of course, Mason. She made sure to keep near him close enough to feel her shoulder occasionally brush against his arm. That way, if he needed to leave somewhere else or nudge her for something quietly, she'd be ready and aware.

They'd learned so much of each other since the trip, creating a definite bond that she was determined to keep. A bit of shortage of friends in California made her increasingly thankful for meeting Mason; a silver lining to the dark cloud the crash had created. He was becoming increasingly in-control of the field that surrounded him and she'd confided in him her source of power - the tattoo - and the new ability it had given her. An organic fire from seemingly nowhere in her lungs. Thank God for her nearly-indestructible skin, though it could feel the heat it didn't burn. Ironic that the flames of her car were what had nearly killed her. A literal trial by fire. Then his story of the Doctor and how she'd seen him, their conversation and her motive.

But the biggest new news of all that one had entrusted with the other? Alice. Alice was his daughter.

Of course Claire had asked her usual questions of realism; how he could be sure, how it had happened. But after that, all she could do was wrap her arms around him and tell him that it'd be okay, that they'd figure it out, and some half-joking remark about how he was lucky that at least she was invincible.  So, here she was, standing beside him in front of some ominous door behind her costume'd comrades. Alice told her she was sure Claire would bend and get a costume with them some day. While that seemed one hundred percent unlikely, she did give a bit of character flare to her wardrobe choice to make the girl a bit content. That and... she really liked the earring and splatter jeans which seemed particularly appropriate for "Ink".

After passing the enormous 'doorman' who she assumed would probably find the nearest chair to sit down in, Claire kept her heavily made-up eyes (thick shadows and lines of black, her own way of 'hiding' her identity) attentive to details around the large-... what was this? Site? Compound? And then, the doctor. Like Mason, she wasn't trusting of her display of kindness. No, something had always sat wrong with Claire about her would-be savior. Yes, she'd saved her life and would be dead had it not been for her intervention. But she'd meddled - and apparently wanted to continue meddling - in the fates of people unknown without their consent.

Claire felt Mason's arm tense beside her when Alice went charging forward, turning her hand beneath the cuff of her sleeve to give him a calming brush with the sides of her fingers to keep from giving away his position. It was strange... she'd always felt protective of Alice and Persephone both since the crash - the older girl less so - but that feeling had nearly doubled since Mason's news. It was plainly written on her face behind Dominic and the blue-haired girl that she was anything but happy to be here or trusting of the Doctor and her strangely menacing work space. Something was happening here. Something big... something bad.

NOTES: So it begins. (Excuse the length, intro post)
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Dominic Weaver]

Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. + Persephone Dean + Will Chase + Alice Morrow + Mason Warner + Claire Elliot

Surge thought it would be fair to say that nobody had expected Paladin to hug the Doctor, although in hindsight he supposed it was deserved. The woman, whoever she truly was, had saved all of their lives. Even so he was hesitant. She'd virtually brought them back from the dead, literally in Paladin's case. She'd given them miraculous, impossible abilities, introduced them to a world that shouldn't exist. And through all of that, they still didn't know why she had done it. Surge was a simple man, and he knew that people were simple, they wanted things. He'd made it his life's work to work out what it was they wanted before they did. He couldn't read this woman in the way he could read everyone else, and that worried him. They might be powerful now, but she had demonstrated abilities on a level that dwarfed theirs, like some benevolent God. The problem was that Gods weren't human. He wondered if the Doctor, with all her power, was still truly human, or if she had gone on to become something else. Something more perhaps… The heavy man who had answered the door was in complete contrast, he looked like the stereotypical neckbeard. As if she had simply selected any one of a vast array of keyboard warriors as her ally. This man was easier to read, and there was an air about him that suggested there was a lot more to him than met the eye. In truth that air seemed to exude from everyone he had met since the accident. This man seemed perfectly comfortable in himself though, not abashed in the slightest, despite his complete difference in manner and dress to the Doctor. She in a white lab coat and suit, he in baggy sweats. It was somehow unnerving. His eyes traced the strange machinery that filled the space. It was complicated, and far beyond his rudimentary knowledge of such things, though several pipes appeared to lead from a contraption on the gantry in the centre, connecting to something high above them in the darkness. He couldn't begin to imagine what its purpose might be. Whatever it was though, it didn't look good, it looked like some kind of dooms day device built by a comic book villain. He smiled, his irresistibly charming face lighting up. His teeth looked even brighter against his predominantly dark costume. Stepping forward, he drew attention to himself deliberately, wanting to regain control of the situation before something unfortunate happened. "We're all grateful for what you did. We owe our lives to you." He shrugged, "I'm not even sure I'd understand the answer if I asked why though. So I'll just ask what's happening here? It looks a bit ominous…" The Doctor smiled at him, then gestured around at the – for want of a better word – facility they were currently stood in. "It seems melodramatic, but I had always had a flair for the theatrical. This is the culmination of my life's work. Or at least the last hundred and fifty years of it." Surge's eyes widened at how casually she mentioned such a scale of time. Just how old was this woman? How powerful was she? "So what is it?" She smiled faintly at him, as if he should have already worked it out. "It's the great equaliser, a return to the proper way of things. There are so many of you out there. People like you. People who don't know their heritage. People who have never known what is theirs by right because of the cowardice of their ancestors." She paused, taking a moment to regain control of herself. If that's what it was. It wasn't the kind of slip that any normal person would make, but he could only think that some aspect of her power allowed her to control her emotions as well. Surge nodded slowly. "You're going to give them powers as well?" The Doctor shook her head, "No. I'm not giving them anything but a chance. The powers are there, just beneath the surface. You all had them, they were just dormant. Sleeping. This," she gestured at the machines behind and around them, "Will just awaken them."

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[Persephone Dean]

The Event

The doorman irked Duchess on a deep, personal level. His very appearance was insulting to the situation; she swore she could see the Cheeto dust on the man’s fingers. There was no ceremonial acknowledgement of their arrival. Nothing at all to suggest that he was even at all impressed to see the super-powered group of heroes before him. Their efforts felt useless if this was their reward. The cheap door trick was just a further insult.

At least the Doctor had the respect to greet them with a little more grandeur. The clean white coat was a dramatic contrast to the dark, complex machinery that dominated the space. The smile on her face suggested that she was entirely comfortable with their presence, smug in the assumption that she had the upper hand. Duchess scanned the room for links to the ominous “black spade” group, but found nothing. It seemed that this woman was a lone wolf.

Duchess was irritated a second time as Paladin made a complete fool of herself. The younger girl had launched herself at the Doctor with an open sentimentality that only served to tip the balance of power ever further in the Doctor’s favour. If they had come here to apprehend the powerful woman – a cause Duchess wasn’t even particularly heartfelt about in the first place – then Paladin had a strange way of going about it.

Of course, Surge was the one to step forward and attempt to prise back the control that Paladin had forfeited. He was always focused on the goal, always striving for it. It was a shame that he seemed to have been sucked in by the more noble side of their newfound powers. He wasn’t quite the devoted hero that Paladin seemed desperate to become, but all the same he supported the cause. The black spades had begun to tear Duchess away from that prospect of success through heroism (as if she’d ever been very attached to the idea in the first place). The new mystery – its dark, enigmatic nature just oozing power – had enticed her, and it seemed that even Surge’s magnetic charisma and ambition was not going to be enough to pull her back without a solid victory on his side.

It seemed that Duchess’s future with the group of superheroes depended very much upon the outcome of this encounter with the Doctor. They had triumphed in the face of adversity before, but this uphill battle felt more like standing before an insurmountable cliff face.

“You know why we’re here,” Duchess said bluntly, eyeing the Doctor with a cautious defiance. “What we’re capable of.”

She wondered if the Doctor was proud of her little projects; how far they’d come. Now they were here to thwart the very work they had been a result of.

She looked up at the pipes that stretched up into the darkness. Duchess couldn’t even begin to fathom their purpose. “As far as family gatherings go, this is probably the nicest I’ve attended. Don’t take that as a compliment,” she added, a quick snide remark that she hoped would throw the Doctor just a little bit. “You and I seem to have very different expectations when it comes to family.”

The Doctor was a fool. Spectre had told them of her loneliness that was fuelling this quest to awaken powers. If she thought her actions would rid her of it, then she was deluded. Shared genetics didn’t force some kind of bond with others. They only worsened the sting of rejection.

“Family is rarely as welcoming as we want. I know that. You know that.” Duchess smirked at the Doctor’s words. “You have already met the pawns of those who would see me fail. You certainly handled yourselves well then. You have taken to your gifts swifter than I could possibly have imagined. Who are you to deny that opportunity to anyone else?”

Duchess folded her arms in response, eyes cold.

Will Chase | Alice Morrow | Mason Warner | Claire Elliot | Dominic Weaver

656 words

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[Will Chase]

The doorman reminded Will, oddly enough, of the doctor they were there to confront. They couldn't have been more different in appearance and personality, so far as he could tell, but they had the same unshakable confidence. If the doctor's confidence was born of the conviction that nothing could threaten her, however, this man's seemed more from apathy; less that he could defeat any attacker, more that no one would ever even be able to attack him in the first place. It worried Will in a way he couldn't quite place, but that feeling was nothing compared to what he felt when they stepped into an enormous chamber. It wasn't fear, not quite. More... anticipation. Like the whole world was suddenly holding its breath. He couldn't explain it, not really. It was just a feeling, a gut instinct that told him that he was looking at the makings of something momentous. Something that would change the world. Ah, so that was why it felt a little like fear. Changing the world was dangerous. Alice embracing the doctor took Will by surprise, though it probably shouldn't have. After all, she had been the most enthusiastic of them about their new abilities, so it wasn't particularly outlandish that she would feel grateful to the woman who granted them. Will though? Well, Will remembered what Harry had said. He remembered what he had learned, and so he was cautious. Unfairly perhaps, for the doctor hadn't actually done anything particularly worthy of distrust, but Will still didn't understand her, and so he was hesitant. He glanced over at the others, happy to see that Claire and Persephone at least appeared to share his misgivings, though he couldn't see much of Dominic's face and Mason's invisibility left his opinion as anyone's guess. Will was far too cynical to fully believe what Mason had explained of the doctor's motives. Loneliness could be a powerful motivator, but to Will the woman didn't seem to suffer enough of it to explain the lengths she had already gone, let alone how far Harry had appeared to fear she might go. The revelation of her age - and what a revelation it was - changed things. For one thing, it changed Will's perception of the doctor and her potential motives significantly; he was far from arrogant enough to assume he could truly understand the mind of a person who could talk about 150 years like most people talked about 20. Will was an intelligent man, but the mind of an immortal, or at least as near to one as he had ever met, was not something he had experience in. Solitary confinement in prisons could drive people mad in days, what would hundreds of years of even partial isolation do? Will felt something very near sympathy as he looked at the doctor with new eyes, seeing not a being of immense power and potential threat, but a person just like any other, no better and no worse. Ha, perhaps he was arrogant enough. He wondered if the others could see what he could see. He thought Mason could, the man had certainly seemed to feel sympathy for the doctor when he was explaining what she had told him. Duchess could, that was obvious enough. Her feelings appeared less like sympathy, however, and more like contempt. Will wondered at that. He'd worked out that she had very different feelings on family to him, but this seemed more than that. She was certainly more cutting than he had expected. But her point was valid. After all, Will knew as well as anyone that sharing blood didn't always make people love each other, and the doctor's vision as she'd described it was missing what Will felt were several key details. She talked about giving people the chance to realize their gifts, but Will wondered how much thought she'd put into what they might do with powers. People did terrible things enough, without superpowers being added into the mix. "You speak of this as if it is so simple, as if you will grant all those people abilities beyond their comprehension and everything will turn out alright. What happens if you're wrong? What happens if they go in a different direction?" Will spoke softly and deliberately, carefully choosing each word. "I have seen people do terrible things to others, sometimes for no other reason than because they could. How many more people will die, if the next madman wields a power like yours instead of a gun?" Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for? Will Chase 753 Words

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[Alice Morrow]

Paladin Am I more than you bargained for yet? + Mason Warner + Claire Elliot + Dominic Weaver + Persephone Dean + Will Chase + wearing

Paladin looked from Overwatch to the Doctor, concerned that his attitude, and that of Duchess might very well antagonise a response that none of them wanted. The blonde woman's face tightened almost imperceptibly. The woman had a control over her emotions that belied her humanity. Perhaps it was a product of her great age, or her power, whatever it truly was. "I have asked myself that question many times. No one can answer it, even the few I know capable of prophecy give contradictory answers." She fixed Overwatch with a look that would have pierced even a hardened killer to the core. "Change is inevitable, it is the one thing that can be relied upon. For a long time I have been the architect of my own change, I have become faster, stronger, more intelligent, more powerful. They call me dangerous. Perhaps I am, but only because I have always been afraid of standing still, of ending my days as I began them." She looked at them all, glanced at Doorman. "And still nothing changed. When you have lived as long as I have you understand that change is not something that you can wait for. Change is something you have to engineer. You have to fight for it." Turning away from them, the Doctor began to walk away, back to the gantry and the strange machinery upon it. "Change is coming William, and there is nothing you can do to stop it." She paused at the stairs, "Humanity will change, whether they like it or not." It was invisible to Paladin, but Surge realised then what had been bothering him. The Doctor had saved their lives, brought them back from the dead. She seemed to be the architect of everything that had happened to them since. None of that fit with the image she projected, a slight, middle aged woman in a white lab coat. She seemed perfectly normal, and they had been acting as if she was. No matter how much she might look it, the Doctor wasn't human. No one could live for as long as she had and remain so. Perhaps only one of the changes she had wrought upon herself had done it, perhaps it had been a slow process over decades, but the mind that operated behind those warm blue eyes was every bit as alien as a mad god. Paladin turned around. "Then we'll stop them. There are shit people out there. We've fought with more than a few of them. But there are just as many good people. People who want to make the world a better place. Maybe this is what the world needs right now." She looked at all of them, even at the spot she thought Spectre was stood. "Things are shit right now. There are hurricanes, wars, people are afraid to walk down the street at night. The world needs hope! You saw the reaction to that video. Why can't we be that hope? Why can't she?" She gestured behind her to the Doctor, who had returned to the control panel. "What gives you the right?"

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[Mason Warner]

The Event

The confrontation was very much balancing on a knife edge and Spectre was becoming more and more concerned that the next word spoken would be the one to ignite the Doctor; ending her patience with them. She was a woman driven by the kind of mind-warping, bitter loneliness and loss that led her to act like she had nothing left to lose. Her word choices – “architect”, “engineer” – hinted not-so-subtly at the God complex she courted and Spectre could see how her initial, more human motivations had twisted and darkened over the century and a half that she had been devoted to them.

She was still human, still vulnerable, but her perspective was detached enough from the humanity Spectre knew that she was dangerous. Overwatch summarised it nicely – drawing from a bigger picture that the Doctor was prepared to paint with the blood on her hands.

The worst part was that his daughter – endlessly trusting and good – seemed blind to it. She wanted to see a hope in the Doctor’s future. Nobly, she wanted to be that hope. There were billions of people on the planet and, as inspiring and heartfelt as Paladin’s words were, there was no guarantee of an equal distribution of powers amongst good and evil (if it were ever so simple). The Doctor seemed to have very little stake in their world, while Spectre had his child to consider, and he just couldn’t be complicit in endangering her with a worldwide awakening of unpredictable special abilities.

He wished his invisibility had developed a side effect of telepathy. Communicating with his fellow heroes was out of the question. Spectre’s advantage lay solely in stealth and surprise – giving the Doorman even a hint as to his whereabouts would not work in his favour. He’d jumped at Ink’s touch earlier, terrified her movements would attract attention, but fortunately Paladin’s hug with the Doctor had been a sufficient distraction.

He looked at Ink now, her face clouded with emotion. If she needed to speak, she should. He placed a supportive hand on her shoulder for encouragement – trying to move it as little as possible – before stepping away and towards the Doctor. She had moved away from Paladin now and Spectre was putting himself firmly between them.

Sure, Paladin wasn’t exactly the most fragile member of the team, but none of them knew the true extent of the Doctor’s powers and Spectre certainly wasn’t keen on witnessing a demonstration.

Claire Elliot | Dominic Weaver | Persephone Dean | Will Chase | Alice Morrow

407 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 691

TAGS: Dominic Weaver

Fake. Everything was fake. The Doctor, her reasons, the possible joy of her success with the six of them. Fake. "You're either an idiot or you're evil..." she was looking at the ground near most likely where Mason's feet now were, unknown to her, somewhere between Alice and the mysterious woman. Her voice was quiet but iconic - like when a piece of silverware drops to the ground in a loud dining area and has the public turning to look for it.

"It's not about change. It's not about giving those that never had a choice the option to choose." She could still feel the small bit of warmth on her shoulder from where Mason's encouraging hand had been. Her face lifted, hands still in the front pockets of her jacket per the usual way she stood, but her eyes met fearlessly to the Doctor's. "A hundred and fifty," she repeated belatedly, shaking her head, "If you were an idiot you'd go through with this telling us that the benefits outweighed the dangers. That it's the right thing to do, that it's fair and just. An idiot wouldn't recognize that history repeats itself. But you're old... and bitter, and ingenious, and honest," she grimaced at the last word, taking three long strides forward and nearly bumping into Mason's side as she faced the woman past her group of fellow survivors (if that's what they could really call themselves). Honest... God, that was the worst part about it. She knew the gray areas she was dabbling in and didn't just shrug her shoulders, but dabbled with apathy.

Her words weren't piercing or heavy, not even driven by anger or accusation. They simply were. Claire had spent a long time listening, a long time thinking, and she finally felt the time that her voice needed to be heard; that those in this room, not just the six of them, heard the truth of the situation. "The most dangerously evil icons in history have a single commonality. They all thought they were making a better world, a more natural world. King Richard in the Crusades, Alexander the Great, Stalin, Adolf Hitler. Every single one believed in their own heads that what they were doing - all the bloodshed and all the chosen loss of their humanity - was for the greater good," she swallowed, her words straining in her throat.

"So you're not an idiot."

"You know what you're doing. It's not about a cause or change," she sneered, taking a step closer without a thought, "You've convinced yourself that it's justice. You're the next repeat. People won't know your name, that you started all this," her hand motioned at her side somewhere towards the pipes stretching along the walls and ceiling, "You're just handing down your root of selfish hatred to the next person that has the guts or insanity that you don't to go public. I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought-..." she left the familiar phrase unfinished and tried to find any ounce of humanity left in the woman's eyes that she could. But... they were so empty. Not cold. Just gray.

"You're the great schism. You know it, but the blood that'll be on your hands will hurt so little now because you've lived so many years convincing yourself that you're above it all - evolved. That you're God. So these people you're trying to relate to, that you've felt so lonely without... It's bullshit. I guess they're not so equal or 'relatable' if you've told yourself you have the right to put your hand into their chests and turn their being inside out." Now ahead of Alice, she put her foot in front of the girl and cautiously held her forearm to pull her slowly back behind her, a gentle sternness to her motion. She could feel her skin hardening in anticipation to danger; the ink on her back pulsing with heat beneath the layers of clothing. "You're not an idiot. That leaves evil. You're not God, and you do a shit job of trying to play Him."

NOTES: No fooling me.
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Dominic Weaver]

Surge The best part of “believe” is the “lie”. + Persephone Dean + Will Chase + Alice Morrow + Mason Warner + Claire Elliot

This situation was going south rapidly, and Surge seemed to be the only one who could see it. Perhaps what this woman was doing was wrong, maybe it would cause more problems than it fixed. He could see all of the wondrous possibilities that came with it, but he could see the consequences as well, at least some of them. This change that the Doctor was determined to force upon the world was terrifying and potentially a catastrophe, but antagonising the one who had resolved to bring it about did not seem to be the best way to deal with the situation. The petite blonde woman was ignoring them, turning dials and flicking switches. The noise in the vast concrete chamber was growing, machinery growing louder, clicking and whirring as it awoke from its sleep. A red light started blinking on the wall opposite them, and Surge found his gaze drawn to it. Nothing was labelled, everything seemed custom built and he wondered briefly if the Doctor had the same command of machinery as she did biology. He hoped not. Finally, the Doctor seemed satisfied with her activities at the control panel, and she looked up, her eyes flickering briefly to the Doorman, then back to the survivors. The heavy man shifted slightly, turning to face them more directly. Surge swore internally. "Maybe we can just slow down a second, before this gets out of hand." The Doctor came slowly back down the steps towards them, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter now, it's begun. I suppose… Claire, that if I'm playing God then you could call this my Genesis. This might take a little more than seven days though." There was a sudden roar from above them, some massive and unseen engine firing up and beginning to spin. "Everything worth having requires sacrifice Claire, I've already sacrificed too much, seen too many friends die for this cause. After so many, you realise that for humanity to advance, you will always need blood, you will always need sacrifice. This is no great war, no conquest, no… final solution." Surge half expected her to shoot Claire a dirty look at the suggestion her plan was similar to one of extermination. Her face remained blank, as though she were beyond such petty concerns as anger and vengeance. "This is simply the next step." Surge looked towards Paladin, the teen, or what of her face could be seen, looked torn. They all owed the Doctor their lives, but what she was about to do would undoubtedly change the world forever. What if someone with less of a moral compass possessed Paladin's powers? Spectre's? Ink's? Maybe they were right... He didn't move, but there was a subtle change in his stance, the electricity seemed to sense his new resolution, singing in his blood with the joy of power. If he didn't know better he could have felt the sparks crackling between his fingers. He didn't want to fight here, but he had a loyalty to his friends, and he wouldn't stand by and watch if there was something he could do...

© seadra of gs

[Persephone Dean]

The Event

The situation was spiralling, and Duchess was grateful for Surge’s attempts to try and reign his team in. Where Duchess had been confrontational – prodding at the Doctor’s motives and testing the waters of unsettling the Doctor (unsuccessful) – and Overwatch had been calm in his opposition to the Doctor’s plan, Paladin had been wildly passionate in her support and Ink… Ink had been downright aggressive. It was certainly a surprise to see the quiet girl attempt to wield bravado.

It was perhaps unfortunate that Ink had chosen this moment to crawl out of her shell. She just. Kept. Talking. Duchess watched the Doctor intently, waiting for the moment that she would lose her patience with Ink’s scathing monologue, but she was occupied with the task at hand.

Duchess didn’t pretend to even try to understand what the dials and switches were for. The Doctor hadn’t exactly laid the blueprints of her plan out for all to see. She was awakening the abilities of dormant meta-humans around the world, but the only way she’d succeeded before had been on a one-to-one basis. The machinery was clearly intended to fast-track that process but Duchess still wasn’t sure how one secure facility in Los Angeles was going to be enough to do it. Was it transmitting some kind of signal via satellite? But then, why was it such a complex array of pipes and wires?

The Doctor finally acknowledged her audience once more, the brief communication between her and the fat man not going unnoticed. Duchess decided not to torture herself with another look in his direction. Gross.

She had a point. No matter how terrible the consequences seemed to be to make Ink compare the Doctor’s work to initiating a third World War, it wasn’t actually a direct work of evil targeted against humanity. More, it had the potential to enable humans to complete that part themselves, if they so wished.

Still…

“It shouldn’t be up to one person to decide the next step for humanity,” Duchess said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. It was as though she was trying to convince herself to stay on her team’s side. (Apart from Paladin, the Doctor’s lone cheerleader. And maybe Spectre who was uncharacteristically refraining from offering terrible jokes to tense situations).

The nervous energy in the room was tangibly high, and Duchess found her hands hovering over the pouches on her belt that contained the more offensive concoctions. Just in case.

Her first shot was going to be aimed straight at that detestable Doorman.

Will Chase | Alice Morrow | Mason Warner | Claire Elliot | Dominic Weaver

423 words

ψ

[Will Chase]

Everything was rapidly spinning out of control, and Will didn’t know if there was any way he could salvage the situation before it all collapsed. While he couldn’t bring himself to disagree with Claire’s words, and in fact agreed almost wholeheartedly with them, he couldn’t help but feel that airing her opinion in such a manner was a misstep of colossal proportions. Perhaps Claire couldn’t see it, but the doctor was not someone Will wanted to risk pissing off. In a world of people with inexplicable abilities, Will didn’t doubt that someone who had lived hundreds of years would be more than capable of defeating a group of inexperienced, untrained hopefuls. If this came down to a fight, it was not one he thought they could win, whatever any of the others thought. Hell, Alice may very well decide to side with the doctor if it did end in conflict, and she was without a doubt the single most dangerous member of their group, capable of ignoring anything the rest of them could do. Alice’s words had angered Will, in a way he would later doubt she had intended, but at the time they brought a rush of white-hot anger. He had kept a hold on it, controlled it as Claire and Dominic and the doctor and Persephone had spoken, but once they’d finished he found himself overcome and snapped at the young woman. “What gives us the right to doubt her?” His voice was hard, cold in a way that none of them had heard before. “What the hell gives her the right to do this Alice? Age? Power? Since when has that been justification for anything? What gives her the right to twist the world, to change it in this manner? There are good people in this world, many of them. How many of them will die, because of this? Have you bothered to think about that? She has,” he pointed at the doctor. “She believes that everything that comes as a result of this is none of her concern. She will have done what she set out to do, and the consequences will fall on the shoulders of those she did it to. This is not some grand awakening, where humanity will wake up and look at itself and see greatness and purity. This is the beginning of a cataclysm, that will shake the very foundations of civilization. What gives you the right, to declare that this will make the world a better place?” “This is not a comic book. This is not some grand story, where good triumphs over evil, and everything turns out alright in the end. This is real life, and real life doesn’t have a happy ending.” Finally, Will was spent. Finally, he could calm down, and realize how far he had gone in his anger. He slumped, all passion gone like dust in the wind. “You can dream of a better place where everyone is happy and everything is good. People don’t work like that. People are messy, and violent, and cruel. There is goodness in some, but for every good man, there is an evil one. Every story has its villain, but in life the villain can win.” And all of this was ignoring the single most important thing the doctor had said since they entered the damn room. ‘“It doesn’t matter now, it’s begun.”’ If that meant what Will thought it did, then they were already too late to stop what was happening, if they even could’ve in the first place. All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. Will Chase 607 Words

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