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About Dr. Zero

  • Birthday 07/16/1981

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Collaborator (7/16)

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  1. No, I need people... interest seems to have died down due to my being spotty
  2. This is really my fault for being so absent for so long... who else is around?
  3. Almost out of nowhere, a number of grey suited men come on deck as the helicopter nears. The "greys", as they are known infamously around the interior of Utopia, are the projects version of secret service men. They are called out when there may be a VIP around and there may or may not be the right Nova to protect him if something were to happen. For them to have brought out the Greys means something or someone important. As the helicopter nears, you can see two more in the horizon seemingly stationed around the Prometheus. They are both military complete with the full spectrum of armaments. In the space of two minutes, the peaceful morning has been shattered by an almost military welcome or, as it may turn out, unwelcome. The original helicopter, an unmarked but sleek transport, lands and the Secretary General of the United Nations steps out along side the equivalent from Columbia and Dr. Evard Burghalter, the head of Utopias science and technology department.
  4. The Prometheus rolls gently on the morning waves of the Bahía de Cochinos, the sun glinting brightly off its still unblemished paint and daily shined railings. The deck is unusually silent at 9 am, most morning duties being held till a bit later allowing the staff to sleep in on a Saturday. Somewhere, out of sight, the faint sounds of a radio playing "Lime in the Coconut" seemingly scores the lone crew member washing the windows on the outside of the command tower. The sounds of the waves, wind and ocean birds bely a paradise usually only heard in new age relaxation albums. Other than that and a lone watchman posted on the towers roof, the deck is empty. After a few moments, a few figures appear on deck, gathered heading toward the command tower. The slience is also broken, softly at first and then louder, as a helicopter approaches from the mainland...
  5. The night winds on and the staff opens the skylight windows to allow a slight pleasant cross breeze. The camera flashes gain slightly in momentum as a few novas, Adam, Rust and Carlos, leave and even more as Henrich Knauls, an almost impossibly perfect super model from Austria known for both his burgeoning moonlighting career as an Elite and for his legendary debauchery parties, enters the scene. Every head in the resturant turns and pulling your gaze away from his painfully well sculpted being is difficult. Baselines gape and gasp. He arrives with an entourage of attractive party goers, not unlikely picked up at surrounding clubs or beaches from their attire. His entrance is grand and boistrous and things done settle down until the group is tucked away in a private booth away from prying eyes. The well hidden and crystal clear sounding surround sound system, currenly a varied homage to 70s and 80s rock. A few baselines and, eventually, most of Henrichs groupies get up to dance to You Shook me All Night Long, I love Rock and Roll, Dude Looks Like a Lady, Paradise City, More than a Feeling, Diamond Dogs, Highway to Hell, Fat Bottomed Girls and just as the first few chords of Paint it Black start, you each get a text message on your phones. "Debriefing 10am tomorrow, Prometheus, Executive Board Room, Dress Sharp... may have VIP visitors"
  6. Lance claps Jack and Xavier on the back and laughs thunderously, adding a titan-like handshake to the mix. Then, after a overly large wink toward Elena, he hands you a card. "This is my number. Next time you are in Havana or LA, give me a call. Ill get you tickets to my next match." The paparazzi in the windows still click away, always trying to push in for a better view and the bouncers have to, more than once, bar some of the more gregarious from entering a few feet into the door but the dinner is otherwise mostly quiet. The other luminaries that grace the resturant tonight, besides Lance, are Adam Yen, a super speedy newly erupted Nike representative, Carlos San Sombra, a local Havana nova with a gentle giant reputation, Victor and Rebecca Wensis, a married pair of novas who work for the Dedalus League and have been known to have left the atmosphere, Rust, a towering nova made of darkish metal known to work for DeVries and for his Teragen sympathies, Moira Killian, ex-Utopian super scientist who left Utopia publically dis-satisfied but not hostilly and lastly, Tag O'Donnel, a massive Scottish nova with greenish stripes to his skin, the possible boyfriend of Moira if you ask the tabloids. The food is free and four start to novas as well as the drinks, though some of the "nova sized" drinks actually are made from some pretty rare and expensive manufactured chemicals so they charge for those. That drink list includes the "N-Day", "Mango Quantum Explosion", "Eruption Super-Apple Martini", and "Salutamis: The first Nova beer brewed by Novas and made for Novas (only)"
  7. Dinner in Havana is catered and pomped, as the newest members of T2M would be far too conspicuous to just slum. Starlords seems the obvious option, being that you can get there in as public a fashion as possible and then, after your grand entrance, eat in relative piece. Utopia is surprisingly flexible about letting you keep to yourself when off duty, an unexpected perk in the face of their very dominant reputation. The basic line is "Just remember, you are always on call" so as long as you keep your company issued cellphones on, you are more or less free to do as you please. "Still, remember Havanas reputation. You are Novas but so are some of the seedier elements there. Havanas underbelly is very dangerous both to you physically and ESPECIALLY politically. Meaning, keep your noses clean! There is alot of temptation out there that would look great in a paper. Page one, Nova saves the world. Page two, photo of said nova in a drug addled brothel. Get the picture?" Needless to say, the crowds greet you with enthusiasm wherever you go... that is, when they recognise you. The whole terrorist disaster is so new that your next big publicity is going to hit in a few hours, leaving you in a strange place of between stardom. Even now, you can hear murmurs of people talking about a terrorist attack in South America, but the details are just filtering out. Tomorrow you expect to see your faces on every newspaper in existence. Tonight you are simply more Utopian celebrities. Android passes on dinner, looking pale and haunted, and took a helicopter to the nearest airport and a ride home. The others made their way into the Havana night. At Starlords, after your red carpet parade, the team of you is ushered to a table on a raised dias where people can see you but not close enough to be pesky about it. The crowds are more polite about your stardom than you might expect, applause and cheers more than autograph signing. Course, it really depends on the timing and night, not the nature of fandom. The photos never stop outside, the paparazzi in full swing, but private photos are not allowed inside, strictly enforced. There is opportunity for Novas, if they want, to take pictures with waiting fans, but that is again a specially sectioned off area. You mostly get applause as you walk through the resturant. About 3 minutes into dinner, a massive bald figure approaches your table. It is none other than Lance Stryker, the infamous XWF powerhouse and media heel. His table, on the next raised dias, is flooded with 3 angelicly beautiful girls in evening dresses of young but indeterminate age, 2 important looking men in business suits and 1 other Nova you recognise an XWF newbie. As with any nova approaching anothers table, the resturant hushes a bit to catch the conversation and, on cue, the music gets a bit louder to compensate. He raises a bushy eyebrow at this change and smirks. His normally gravelly fighting voice is toned down to make him sound less the comic book-esque character he usually represents and more like just another person. "Hey I heard bout what you done with the attack. Just wanted to say congrats. I got friends down there who were grateful."
  8. So what does everything think the odds are of ever seeing an Aberrant second edition? Maybe a stupid question but...
  9. Frusterating... ok we can make do, no problem... just keep up the momentum
  10. The gunmen open fire on Glowbe just as she gets her shield up, allowing only one bullet to get through first... that bullet, however, clips the hapless Elena on the side of her torso, entering and exiting the skin next to her stomach. A burst of pain and spray of blood later, Glowbes shield takes the remainder of the bullets but she stumbles back in shock. (3 levels lethal) Looking frantically around the area, Android spots just what he needs... an automated car. In this modern age, enough cars exist with fully computerized navigation systems... perfect for the situation. The car silently whirs to life as Androids willpower projects over and through it and slowly circles for a minute to face the furiously firing terrorists. Android starts in panic for a moment when he sees Glowbe take a hit to the stomach and almost looses his concentration but manages to focus it into speed as the cars wheels screech on the broken street, heading for the terrorists. They do not manage to dodge to the side as the newish Ford Comet plows into them and scatters the two firing into the air with the crack of bones and broken weapons. The remaining terrorist ended up being a single techie in the radio tower who gives himself up shortly after seeing the shattered remains of his brethren. The building is doused by Jacks gate and soon Siggi is tearing apart the building looking for wounded. Glowbe is quickly treated by the paramedics who, now that the danger is over, seemingly flood the streets. The team reacted in enough time to minimize the deaths, though even after the carnage many people are wounded, dying and dead. It takes the team the rest of the day to evacuate those affected by the loss of power, those hurt by debris, those burned and those shot. The death toll totals around 130 and the wounded are three times that. Nothing remotely near the amount that would have been affected if the cases of spent uranium were linked up to the detenator. A minor nuclear explosion at the epicenter of the city would have taken out over a million innocent people. The group claiming responsibility, at least the most likely of the few that do, is a fringe group of political extremists fighting for certain border separation. This was fueled by a recent raid by the government into one of their enclaves where a number of people, including innocents, were gunned down. You all read the briefing, disgusted at both parties. You saved many lives which is the most important thing. After 20 hours of hard work, you are all flown back to the nearest Utopia outpost and, after a brief rest, back to home base. Being that the team is a satelite team, home is the remarkable and unique ship, the Prometheus. It is not only the base of T2M Satelite, it is also Utopias first mobile Rashoud facility, made for moving response to crisis situations that might require Nova outreach and medicine. It is something of a cross between yacht and a miniture aircraft carrier, complete with three helicopter pads, an enormous living area, state of the art medical and nova medical center, recreation area, public area for guests and tours, nova sciences lab and even a heavily fortified above deck area for power testing. It is as much part of the PR stunt as you are and somewhat revolves around you. It is currently docked in Cuba, where you are all flown. Everybody flops down on the oversized couches in your suite common room, stunned by the amount of work, physical and emotional, that you were just put through. The huge flatscreen stays silent as the room as you all finally breathe a sigh of rest and relief.
  11. Trooper, People come here as an outlet as well. Novas lives tend to have excesses being that we are one in a million, instant and often unwilling celebrities, dealing with strange and/or unpleasant biological effects, coping with alienation from being truly unique (even from other Novas) and trying to carve a comfortable spot for ourselves in this world. If you wanted to blend in and simply be, joining a hot spot nova site is not the best way to remain low key. You may end up swept up in the drama. Unfortunately for our kind, violence is getting more and more simply a way of live either over defence or ideals. Novas are larger than life and that often means the larger than life drama is part and parcel. Zero
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