"Well, Nissa, that is a very personal question we all face", Theo spoke up, in a lot more serious tone than you've heard from the godling before. "There an old midwest saying, I think, that goes: If you don't kill the fox in the hen house, how many chickens are you prepared to lose."
"Well, Nissa, that is a very personal question we all face", Theo spoke up, in a lot more serious tone than you've heard from the godling before. "There an old midwest saying, I think, that goes: If you don't kill the fox in the hen house, how many chickens are you prepared to lose."
"I believe that was a velociraptor in a high-rise poultry farm," says Colonel Greer.
"I suspect, even if they do get free, it won't be our jurisdiction to handle it," Charles half-states, half-asks.
"I suspect, even if they do get free, it won't be our jurisdiction to handle it," Charles half-states, half-asks.
"Well, I think we will get a chance to question them. If you think they could be connected with PhDestruction, then we'll definitely be able to find out what they know," answers Colonel Greer overly optimistically.
Charles grunts. "Maybe I've just read too many old novels. Things always connect together in them."
He winces as his subconscious puts together 'old books' and 'Beowulf'.
You return to Boston Theoretical in Colonel Greer's copter.
The first time you see Mr. Portly is when you arrive back at the Flight Deck area. Of course, you don't know that's his name when you first come in. Neither does anyone else. Through one of the reinforced glass windows you see a short man with dark hair and glasses laughing and nodding as Dr. Moore wildly gesticulates and shouts.
L.C. Preston nods to you as you come close. She's staring at Mr. Portly and Dr. Moore and looks worried.
"Who the hell is that?" Colonel Greer asks Dr. Preston.
"I haven't a clue," says L.C. "But he got here 40 minutes ago and told me to wait out here until you arrived."
"On whose authority?!" Greer asks.
L.C. hands him a datapad and his eyes go wide. He reads it for a while and then says to the group, "Get some rest. I've got to ... Maybe we should call it a night." He looks and sounds like someone whose gotten the wind knocked out of him.
Shortly after, L.C. and Greer are summoned into the room with Mr. Portly and Dr. Moore.
"What the hell do you think that was all about?" Verve asked as the Colonel stalked off with L.C.
"Besides trouble, I mean."
"I'm starting to think things at Boston Theoretical are never slow", Theo said, hands on his hips. "Anyway, showers and bed for all of us sound good right now."
"God yes. that foam was nasty."
As the group leaves for the showers, The Olympian walks next to Verve and whispers, "Sorry about our dinner being interrupted. The thought was there."
"And appreciated. I'll buy next time."
Charles nods in agreement at the assessment of the foam. "Hope it's not those two breaking out already," he comments on the way to the showers.
“I have a feeling it’s something new, but I guess we’ll find out, and not necessarily after a night’s rest.
“Oh… showers, umm—I’ll catch up with you, Verve.”
Nissa gets a hot teacup of water from the coffee room on the way to the shower room. Once there, she places her teacup by the mirror and, in stellar mote form, she enjoys a relaxing bath.
Shortly after Theo's prediction that things at Boston Theoretical are never slow, things slow the heck down. L.C. Preston, Dr. Moore, and Colonel Greer are 'in conference' anytime anyone tries to get in touch with them all the next day.
Flora and Fauna's breakout is on the newsnet around noon, but only because military footage was leaked. The breakout may have happened before you even got back to the labs. Verve gets a funds transfer of $100 before the broadcast finishes, but no communication from anyone. L.C. sends Nissa a picture of Nissa from one of her previous jobs, which is recirculating on the fashion-web, but other than a smiley face, no words are attached.
No communication the next day either. If you try to get in touch with any of the people you know, you get a quick "Please be patient; we may need you soon."
The quality of the food improves suddenly and a coffee machine with real coffee is brought to your area of the compound.
Theo, back in his meager casual clothes, is in the commissary, putting his eighth sugar in a coffee drowned in creamer. When some of the lunch ladies look and him and giggle, the godling fires back a wink and a smile.
"I wonder if this place has a ping-pong table?" Theo asks to no one in particular.
Theo, back in his meager casual clothes, is in the commissary, putting his eighth sugar in a coffee drowned in creamer. When some of the lunch ladies look and him and giggle, the godling fires back a wink and a smile.
"I wonder if this place has a ping-pong table?" Theo asks to no one in particular.
Watching the short, bespeckled man waddle away, the godling says to himself, "Well, he hit the nail on the head." The warrior sips his coffee and grimaces. "Ugh. I think I need to invest in some energy drinks."
She then thinks a moment, and decides to set up her comm next to a hot cup of tea, propped so it will stand on its own. She then shrinks to her fairy-like form. She plays around with the settings until the camera can see her as something other than a blob of light in the camera’s eye.
Technically, this is a nude shot, though her luminous skin makes her effectively featureless to the naked eye. Just in case the camera eye is different, she uses a coffee stirrer to tap the record button.
She then strikes a demure pose, leaning on the edge of the cup. Her aura makes the steam appear bright yellow, and her flickering eyes mess with the camera’s focus a bit. She stops the video, plays with the settings and tries again. After a few failed attempts, she finally gets the best quality filming of her tiny form that consumer-grade tech will allow.
“Hey, L.C… being a fashion model, I’ve always had something to wear for the camera. When I’m in this form, however—it’s just me!
“So for your eyes only, I’m filming my first-ever au naturel shoot… not that I wasn’t approached by skeez-balls thrice my age before I even finished high school, but it wasn’t just the creepy vibe that made me commit to not doing nudes. I felt like clothing helped me hide the big turn-off, which is that all the kids were bigger than me, including some that’re fresh outta the womb.”
She relaxes her pose, letting a leg hang over the side.
“I feel more relaxed around you, though. Even when we first met, Dr. Moore was like the fun guy, and you looked so serious, but I took comfort in that. And then you blew me away when I saw all the work you put into The Bombshell!”
She climbs out of the tea cup and seats herself cross-legged on the handle.
“That you did that for me—someone you only knew of at the time—I don’t even know how to explain the feeling. It just made me feel so great about the new me. Like, I don’t even care if my powers are limited or useful or it I’m obviously the weakling of this or any conceivable team.”
She walks to a place where the camera can see her entire body (even if as a glowy silhouette).
“I doubt I can handle much wine… or if I should even have more than just a sip of yours, but anyway, July 7th is the day I can legally drink. There’s a winery with a picnic ground. My fashionista friend Addison recommended I try a wine called Maiden’s Blush. She made the reservation for two, but the idea was for me to find somebody else to go with.
“So how about it, L.C.? July 7th at 7:00? Rain check if I’m in another dimension that evening?”
She stops the recording and sends it to L.C.
** spoiler omitted **...
Nissa only sees Mr. Portly once, in passing. He smiles at her with the sweetest and most genuine of smiles and, if Nissa smiles back, his smile changes, just slightly, but becomes the most lecherous of leers. He leaves before Nissa can stop smiling. If Nissa doesn't smile back, he leaves, his smile never seeming less than genuine.
Nissa eventually approaches the rest of the team, tears streaming from her face.
“Can we go out and get some fresh air?”
Charles seems a bit withdrawn over the next couple of days. The odd behavior of the Boston Theoretical team, not to mention the breakout of two obviously dangerous amoral (or at least dementedly differently moraled) people affects him more than he would have guessed. He focuses on practicing with his own abilities, finding himself able to switch between his two forms more quickly than before.
This hardly comforts him, given what he'd been told part of what had been done to him included the ability to absorb DNA through his teeth and claws. Had he picked up something from fighting Fauna?
Still when Nissa shows up with tears on her face he responds with instant concern. "What's wrong?"
If she can get Charles and others to follow, she answers away from the facility—away from cameras.
“I sent L.C.—y’know, Dr. Preston—a very personal message. It was a response to what seemed like a cute text from her, and I know she’s been busy and all that, so I thought nothing of it at first.
“But after my message, I got an auto-reply. And it wasn’t instant! Which made me think she watched the video I sent. Then Mr. Portly passed by and the sleazy grin he gave me—it’s kinda like how those photographers smile at teen models just before they tell the wonders a nude shoot would do for our portfolios.
“So that look made me think he watched the video, which means…”
Her fiery eyes start to redden. Her fists are clenched… but they’re too small and trembly to appear threatening. She looks like she’s about to melt down, but her arms just fall limp. Her voice is subdued.
“…Greer and L.C. are in trouble.”
She adds. “And if you didn’t already guess, I’ve got a thing for her. L.C., I mean. So that video I sent her told Portly how deeply I care about his hostage.”
Verve gives Nissa an awkwards sidearm hug and says "Sure."
Nissa gladly accepts the awkward hug, leaning into Verve. After she says her piece , Nissa thinks it’s clear she’s worried about Dr. Preston’s safety and Greer’s.
"Well, I guess I'll have to kick his @ss next time I see that pudge-fest!" Theo clenched his fist, making them pop.
"Listen to me, dear heart; between us, we probably know half the Superhero population on the planet. Do you really think I won't hesistate to reach out to EVERY powered person I know if this goes sideways? You're stronger than you think."
Charles's ears go flat back and he bares his teeth just slightly. After a few moments he uses his words.
"I really hope you're wrong. Because I don't like to think about who could threaten a Colonel who has people like us under his command."
After sitting around for days and being ignored, the minute you go back inside one of Mr. Portly's assistants comes over and tells you that everybody is waiting for you. He implies that you shouldn't have left without telling anyone. Before anyone can physically harm the condescending messenger, he turns and starts leading you in a direction you already know very well, back towards the Flight Deck.
It's only when you point out that you aren't necessarily dressed for a mission that he pauses and tsk-tsks audibly.
When you arrive at the Flight Deck, having geared up, you find Colonel Greer, L.C. Preston, and Ron the techie in the control room. Dr. Moore and Mr. Portly are in the Flight Deck with a large silver case.
Colonel Greer says, "Thank you for coming. Mr. Portly will be here in a moment to explain everything."
The Olympian, in full battle gear, arrives at the Flight Deck.
The godling leans back in his comfy office chair with his hands behind his head.
Charles doesn't pick anything up from the Colonel, but he does have a question. "So... can we ask just who Mr. Portly is? It's not every day someone without a rank can order a Colonel."
Nissa can’t tell if Greer is being himself, but she’s still highly suspicious. Since there’s some time to wait, she approaches L.C.
“Got your message, L.C. You get a chance to look at my reply?”
Nissa’s definitely touches by support. “You’re the best,” she says to Theo and Verve, and to Charles’ hope-you’re-wrong, she replies, [b]“Me too…
“Oh, but my fear is that there’s some kinda mind-control. I may be just plain paranoid, and I know L.C. and just had half a date… but no way she’d be so impersonal with me.”
[dice=Sense Mo]d20
Nissa can’t tell if Greer is being himself, but she’s still highly suspicious. Since there’s some time to wait, she approaches L.C.
“Got your message, L.C. You get a chance to look at my reply?”
"Absolutely, ma'am. Bombshell X2 is right here in this carrying case. As you'll see, I also provided you with a flight manual for the bombshell shrunk to .1 cm by .1 cm for your privacy and convenience, just as you requested," L.C replies, holding up a very tiny golden box in the center of the palm of her hand.
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20
Charles doesn't pick anything up from the Colonel, but he does have a question. "So... can we ask just who Mr. Portly is? It's not every day someone without a rank can order a Colonel."
Colonel Greer scowls and then says "Mr. Portly is, apparently, the Hand of FATE ... F.A.T.E. ... Final Authority over Temporal Entanglements. I've been ordered to allow FATE control over TAROT resources for the time being. Of course, none of you are obligated ..."
Mr. Portly walks in from the Flight Deck smiling. Mr. Moore stays behind on the Flight Deck. He appears to be taking a shiny metallic head out of the metal case and setting it up on a tripod.
Mr. Portly looks the group over and then, rather casually, says, "The President has a mission for you and the future of humanity depends upon your success. You'll be travelling to 1938. Period appropriate clothing is waiting for you on the Flight Deck. Dr. Moore will explain the mission details when you arrive in '38. Oh, yes, Dr. Moore will be going with you and will be in charge of this mission if there are no objections."
None of this is said in a tone that would suggest he is speaking to some extraordinarily powerful humans.
Nissa’s smile cracks. She wants to touch L.C.’s hand, but she knows it will only make things more awkward. And this isn’t L.C.’s fault.
She says to Portly, “You’re asking us to go back in time, and intervene in a world where neither our parents or ourselves have yet been born. Isn’t that something you just don’t do?
“I… I didn’t even think time travel was a thing you could do. I mean, ain’t that the year you go back to kill Hitler, and you think you’re a hero, but then all the suffering and death you prevent changes… couples!”
And really, Nissa’s thoughts at the start of that sentence were the dangers of wiping people of 2219, selves included, out of existence. But thoughts of L.C. take her in another direction:
“Yeah! You change circumstances, how many fish are in what sea, and people fall out of love—without even knowing they were in love!” Her eyes are a vermilion inferno. “What the f+~@ have you done to her, Portly?!”
Verve just laughs at Portly.
"Man, the people who work for you must hate you. First, they give you a obviously fake name like Portly, then they send you here to tell us that we're going time travelling, which this isn't even a thing we can do, and then you tell us that you're going to put the person who intentionally sent us off to die and wants to easily escape in charge? You really thought there would be no objections?"
Verve laughs again.
"Take a hike. Turn back around, leave, and don't come back. You need us, we don't need you."
Verve crosses her arms as if to prove her point.
Realizing something that she almost missed, Verve then turns to Nissa and says "Nissa, can you please go check and make sure that they put safety harnesses on the seats this time? Make sure they work?"
Verve just laughs at Portly.
"Man, the people who work for you must hate you. First, they give you a obviously fake name like Portly, then they send you here to tell us that we're going time travelling, which this isn't even a thing we can do, and then you tell us that you're going to put the person who intentionally sent us off to die and wants to easily escape in charge? You really thought there would be no objections?"
Verve laughs again.
"Take a hike. Turn back around, leave, and don't come back. You need us, we don't need you."
Verve crosses her arms as if to prove her point.
"I'm surprised at this, Karen," says Mr. Portly in a disappointed voice taking on an almost parental tone. "Dr. Moore has explained that there may have been some misunderstandings, but I thought everything had been worked out."
He gestures to Dr. Moore on the Flight Deck as he says this. Dr. Moore is attaching what looks to be Uncanny Valerie's severed head to a 5' tall poll. Dr. Moore waves back with a big friendly and excited wave.
“Yeah! You change circumstances, how many fish are in what sea, and people fall out of love—without even knowing they were in love!” Her eyes are a vermilion inferno. “What the f$+# have you done to her, Portly?!”
L.C. Preston's eyes go wide and she stares at Nissa. Her face tries to communicate,
"I am sorry that we have kept everyone here so busy and been so secretive. When one has worked in this field as long as I have, it becomes second nature to say as little as necessary until needed. I apologize deeply for any distress I have caused."
Mr. Portly continues casually, "Regarding the larger question of time travel, you are quite correct that we cannot time travel. You, however, can. And, we need you to do it. Our country made a mistake in 1938 and we are all about to pay the price unless someone can go back and fix it."
"As for the big question on everyone's mind, 'But what if we mess up and destroy the timeline!' well, first of all, I have confidence in you," he pauses and beams expectantly as if his confidence in you should matter. "Furthermore, it's very unlikely that you will mess up the timeline. Despite the speculations of the scientific fantasy genre, the timeline is much more robust than they say, or so our scientists assure us. The most current theory says that very little that you do in the past changes the future because very little anyone does actually matters. Most action is 'wasted' on the present. People, in the future, will do things for stupid, meaningless, and emotional reasons regardless of circumstances so changing circumstances doesn't change shit, if you will pardon the expression. You'll just have to trust FATE."
The Olympian is startled but not surprised by the eruptive conversations around the mission table. The godling considers his next words careful, then stands up, drawing everyone attention.
"Portly, if the mission we undertake, is the mission I'm thinking of, have you thought of the ramifications of it's success. Possible millions of 'baby boomers' spontaneously being born and overloading the then social security and other government services, leading to a dramatic strain of resources even harder than in the 2050s? Interfering with the destinies of potential billions? Not to mention the ten gods and goddesses?"
Several at the table give The Olympian a queer look of not understanding. "You know! The ten god and goddesses of Time in Greek Myth!" The godling starts counting them on his fingers. "Aion. Ananke. Biggest Baddest Chronos! Heimarmene. Horae. Kairos. Moros. And the Moirai, or as the are more commonly known as The Fates: Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis!"
"And that's not even all the other gods of Time from various pantheons. They are the reason time travel, and more to the point, changing events in time, is so difficult. Portly", The Olympian pauses to look at mission leader, "I'm used to dealing with stacked decks, beyond just irritating a god or goddess relative with my antics; this action risks retribution on a mythic scale as yet unheard of fall upon our head."
"So, let me know see if I have this correct: You decapitated my friend and expect us to use her head to go back into time to fix....what, exactly?"
The Olympian is startled but not surprised by the eruptive conversations around the mission table. The godling considers his next words careful, then stands up, drawing everyone attention.
"Portly, if the mission we undertake, is the mission I'm thinking of, have you thought of the ramifications of it's success. Possible millions of 'baby boomers' spontaneously being born and overloading the then social security and other government services, leading to a dramatic strain of resources even harder than in the 2050s? Interfering with the destinies of potential billions? Not to mention the ten gods and goddesses?"
Several at the table give The Olympian a queer look of not understanding. "You know! The ten god and goddesses of Time in Greek Myth!" The godling starts counting them on his fingers. "Aion. Ananke. Biggest Baddest Chronos! Heimarmene. Horae. Kairos. Moros. And the Moirai, or as the are more commonly known as The Fates: Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis!"
"And that's not even all the other gods of Time from various pantheons. They are the reason time travel, and more to the point, changing events in time, is so difficult. Portly", The Olympian pauses to look at mission leader, "I'm used to dealing with stacked decks, beyond just irritating a god or goddess relative with my antics; this action risks retribution on a mythic scale as yet unheard of fall upon our head."
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20 + 11
Mr. Portly, for the moment, has no response. He was prepared for many thing, but not a quiz on Greek deities controlling fate and time.
Finally, he continues, "I think you may be misunderstanding the mission in question, Theo. You are not being sent back in time to kill Hitler. This is a rescue mission. You are going to rescue someone before the United States government can kill them, and then bring them here to the future. Considering that this murder has remained classified as top secret for over 250 years, ... considering that the President herself was only allowed to see the file this morning ... we believe minimal timeline damage will occur. ... We also expect to experience no interference from mythical forces, but, luckily, we have you to negotiate on our behalf if we do."
"So, let me know see if I have this correct: You decapitated my friend and expect us to use her head to go back into time to fix....what, exactly?"
Mr. Portly looks at the head on the stick and then laughs, "Decapitated?! Oh, ho ho. No. I didn't decapitate anyone and this is not the entity you knew as Uncanny Valerie. She was not the first of her kind to arrive here. We still haven't figured out what they are, but they seem to be sentient probes of some sort."
"Thanks to Dr. Moore, we now know how they work," he waves to Dr. Moore again. Dr. Moore waves back happily again.
"And, the mission, Karen," says Mr. Portly, "Is to save someone. Someone who needs to be saved. Someone who should be given a chance. A refugee, you could say."
Nissa sees the guilt on L.C.’s face—
—but if she’s trying to tell Nissa something, her honest face isn’t good at this sort of secrecy, and Nissa’s too distracted by her feelings to pick up any subtle clues.
She listens to the conversation seemingly in a meditative state. Finally she says to L.C., “So… you’re okay then?”
L.C. stands up and says to Nissa, "I'm really proud of the work I've done on the Bombshell. Everything you need to know is written in the manual, which is so small only you can read it."
After she says this, she takes Nissa's hand and shakes it, like that's a normal thing to do, and gives it a couple of squeezes as she does.
"Well", The Olympian relented with a sigh, "I suppose I'm up for a rescue mission."
Nissa says, “I gotta admit, I truly adore the glamour of 300 years ago. It was the beginning of film! All the starlets were taking woman’s suffrage and the male gaze and just… melding it all into a kind of empowerment that’s like—”
She stops herself and says with a sigh, “Oh, but let’s not get too hasty. Like you said, Verve. I gotta check the X2 to make sure all’s in order.”
Nissa places the super-tiny briefcase on a stable surface. She then shrinks out of sight until she is just the right size to read L.C.’s manual.
The pages read:
I'm
scared.
Colonel
Greer
is scared.
Dr. Moore
is in
charge.
Nothing
is
normal.
Portly's
got
pictures
of your
parents.
(They
look
nice!)
He says
Verve is a
criminal.
Please,
go along
with this
...
...
until
you find
a way to
stop him.
The last three pages are blank.
There's a very tiny graphite pencil in the briefcase as well.
"Fashion! Fabulous!" says Mr. Portly encouraging as Nissa shrinks out of sight. "What better reason to travel back in time? So, everyone is agreed then?"
Everyone hasn't agreed, but Portly sounds so sure they have and is nodding for you all.