Nick makes a sound of amusement, "Well I dunno about -you,- but I have to hit it twice."

After Alli's hit, he walks back over, lining up his shot, and he hits the ball with slightly less force than Alli had, making it ricochet off of the corner and having it roll to a stop about a foot from hole, almost exactly the opposite direction from Alli's ball.

He walks over, leaning against the wall Allison had hopped up onto. "By the way, I never told you why I was thinking about wings earlier. I was thinking, that with my power suit thing, I could make some wings. I...asked because I wanted to know if you wouldn't have liked permanent wings on my back..." he blushes near the end of the statement, "I didn't want you to leave after I had just started to get to know you..."

Nick bites his lip, blushing at the touch, "Well, I -was-...that's why I wanted to ask, ya'know...before I did it..."

Nick looks down at his shoes, almost ashamed, unable to keep the eye contact, hair falling into his eyes.

Walking through another part of the Maul was a girl steadily tapping along on a tablet, weaving through people without really ever looking up from her work. If one were close enough, one might see that the thing she was working on was an intricate schematic. One might also see that most of the lines drew themselves, and the tablet emitted little bleeps in response to her soft murmurs.

She wore a t-shirt and short, pleated plaid skirt, ripped up fishnet stockings and big, bulky boots. All in shades of black with blue accents. Her hair hung down to her rear, mainly black with blue streaks throughout. Even her tablet was 'punked up' with a shiny black finish and blue hearts with a skull on one corner, blue bow in it's hair.

She visited several high-tech shops, holding her purchases in her backpack. Each purchase was small in size, but expensive.

She vanished into a clothing store filled with gothy and punky clothing, emerging with a large bag and new knee-high combat boots.

Satisfied with her purchases so far, she wandered into an eatery.

"Yo. Two hawaiian burgers, a large coke, and large curly fries." While she waited for her order, she filled her cup with ice and soda, and nabbed ketchup packets and napkins. She scooped up her tray, and wandered over to sit down. Being a bit obsessive, she meticulously lays out her food by category, placing each of the ketchup packets in two rows, napkins rearranged into a perfect stack, and set up to the right of her drink.

Even eating her meal was an oddity to watch. Bite of burger, bite of ketchup-dipped fry, sip of soda, clean the mouth with a napkin. Between all of this, she continued to work on her new design, integrating the new purchases into the design.

Alli listens, picking out the important bits of Nick's ashamed blurting. Her hands squeeze compulsively once on his forearms, her head shaking very, very slowly back and forth twice...

She abruptly drops his arms and draws even closer, putting her arms around him in a tight hug-- this one unfortunately brief before she steps back and resumes gripping his forearms. When she speaks again, she sounds emotional, but firm-- and she keeps her volume down, so as not to embarrass him if anyone were near enough to think to listen.

"Yeah, it's cool to have wings, and to fly... But there's tons of different ways to fly-- [i]I[/i] could probably make you fly, with some practice!" She pauses, surprising herself, a litany of thoughts rushing through her head for a moment. She shakes her head to clear it-- she'd think about THAT later-- then continues, "But if you've got your mind set on wings-- please. [i]Please[/i] don't maim yourself for it!" Her plea is totally genuine.

"You're perfectly heatlhy-- and you and me both know how crazy that is, after what we've been through! There isn't any [i]need[/i] for that, and there's an awful lot of [i]risk[/i], when you could just put them on a suit-- maybe one that responds to your neurological commands or something... Then you can fly whenever you feel like it, but it doesn't hurt you. Nick--"

Alli swallows, her face pink, but she finishes stubbornly, if a bit meekly, "I don't think flying is a bad idea-- but I can't think about you hurt or [i]d-dead[/i] just because you wanna be cool. You could do it, I know you could-- but you're [i]already[/i] really cool, okay? [i]I[/i] already like you!" She gives Nick a brief little shake, as if that'll somehow help him make sense of all this.

In the moment Nick had been looking down, thinking, Alli had started in interject quietly, "Look, I'll help you with the suit, I said I would--"

And then someone goes and drops icy electricity down her spine. She stiffened at first, unused to having people touch her back, especially so to letting anyone manipulate her around. But feeling his breath on her cheek, she'd gone the complete opposite-- totally relaxed, almost [i]too[/i] relaxed, sighing softly and closing her own eyes. Her 'vision' dims to only the faintest of fuzzy outlines, her fingers sliding limply away from his forearms. He'd effectively stunned her.

Alli stands there, mutely smiling a dream-like smile with her eyes closed for a long moment, before Nick's words remind her that she's standing on the second hole of a mini-golf course and spacing out stupidly in public. She straightens up and opens her eyes, touches her hair unnecessarily, clearing her throat and blushing fit to match Nick's own face. Crouching, she scoops up her putter and clutches it tightly in both hands for a moment, inadvertently leaving the imprints of her fingers in it as her powers activate wildly.

She smiles shyly, but with obvious relief at Nick. "I'm glad... Like, really glad... D-don't worry, I'll help you fly. I promised I would..." She smiles at him for a bit longer, then shakes herself and embarrassedly looks around her feet for her ball, hoping she hasn't kicked it away somewhere.

Alli paused, looking up from lining up her shot. In a quiet, perhaps equally suggestive tone, a bit of a grin on her face. "You better be careful what you wish for, Prof, and pay attention, or I'll start cheating-- and then you'll be in real trouble."

As if to demonstrate, she hits the ball perhaps a tad too hard-- but as it gets closer to the hole it slows down dramatically, and barely tips into the cup with a [i]plink![/i]

She straightens up, lays the putter over her shoulder and gives Nick a smug look. The attendant shouts-- "Hey! Putters below knee height only!"

Alli blushes darkly and quickly drops the putter head back down, gripping the grip tightly. Ducking her head, she grins even wider at Nick, fizzing with mirth, and quickly snatches her ball from the cup to hasten to the next hole-- though she trips on the little retaining wall and almost eats concrete in between. That only makes her laugh harder.

Alli brushes herself off with a slightly mad sounding giggle, turns her head, and gives him a very direct look. "I'll show [i]you[/i] karma. ...later."

She then calmly sets down the ball, then proceeds to walk the course of the green, her lips moving as she counts... something... in her head, left hand stretching out the bracelet in front of her a little. She then paces back, still counting, leans over the putter, and confidently strikes the ball-- which goes ricocheting off two walls, but rolls to a stop just short of the final approach.

She flounces her hair at Nick, then hops once, trotting halfway down the green space to 'watch' his shot.

Nick sticks his tongue out at Allison as he walks over and places his ball to hit, but is actually very impressed by her skill. If she's not cheating, that is.

Nick does a little math in his head, as well as working out the possible variables. He readies his shot, and then hits it with sufficient force, causing it to bounce off of the walls near the first corner, and then off of the walls next to the second, then ricocheting one final time off of the opposite wall, rolling to a stop halfway down the approach to the hole.

He gives her a sly grin as he walks over, using the putter as a cane, attempting to walk like Sherlock Holmes, but just looking like an idiot with a stick.

---

The two do well throughout the rest of the course as the holes get more and more difficult, laughing and flirting continuously, but refraining from -too- much physical contact, for the sake of the general public. In general, they are having a great time.

As they approach the impressive last hole, Nick was grinning at Allison, shouldering her gently, "You are waaay better at this than the average blind person, you know. I dunno if they could've made that last hole."

When they walk over to the greenand Allison moves to prepare her shot, an idea suddenly forms in Nick's mind, mischievous as ever, "I have a proposition for you, Alli: whoever doesn't make this last shot has to give the winner a kiss."

Nick smiles, "You were cheating?" then giving a knowing wink.

Nick listens to her rebuttal, blushing at several parts of it, and then speaks shyly, "You can kiss me wherever you like. And, if you'd like to find a more p-private place, I'm sure we could..."

Nick found flirting with Allison one of the most exciting things he's ever done, everything being new and wonderful and horribly terrifying at the same time. It gave him a certain liveliness, each statement and response like a small jolt of adrenaline flowing through his veins. He had becoming more and more comfortable around her, in her company finding a certain...wholeness.

Nick examined the course, looking it over for a moment, and then looked back to Alli. "Do you have a better proposition?"

Nick smiled back, "I accept your proposal," and then he adds more quietly, with a little less confidence and a lot redder of a face, "You bet I want you too."

Nick smiled again at her last comment, and nods encouragingly, "If this wasn't a date, I'd be much better at friend zoning myself that I previously thought."

Nick waits with a small grin on his face, eager to see how she had managed to cut corners on the courses.

Nick immediately grins, moving closer to see the levitation more clearly, "Oh, that is pretty freakin' cool. I'm officially jealous. Just imagine what you could do with a larger field!" The last statement is more to both of them, the mind of an inventor seeing opportunity merely out of reflex.

He looks down the course, and then back to Allison, "You've gotta get the ball near the hole first, though. That might be a little difficult."

Nick makes an unmanly sound at the end of Allison's comment about magnetizing an air conditioner toward herself, "Awww...I would be very depressed. But at least you'd be..." Nick grins, "...cool."

Nick places his ball on the green, and does a little math, preparing his shot. He lines ot up carefully, knowing he can't get it on the first try, but aims as close as possible, knowing Allison will aid in the last bit of travel. He hits it, getting over the initial hills and ricochetting around the curve. If the ball continues at its current pace, it will over shoot the hole.

Sergei rolled his eyes, "well at least you know. Ok so I'm Sergei and I think I know exactly what we can provide. Now before I continue if I could get some further details... Are you registered, what's your clearance, what's your budget, what are your abilities, and what is your public identity name?"

As he expected Rotten to answer he was registered and not a fresh face to the process, he guided the zombie to a work table with a few binders of swatches inside. "So we have the basics, nylon, denim, canvas, twill, flannel, we try to never sell the bare minimum unless the client [i]wants[/i] it to be destroyed on the first day they wear it. Its policy to warn that typical spandex and ..common.. fabrics are not recommended. We have our own line of these materials with synthetic spider silk woven into the fibers. You'd be amazed at what just a 20% composite denim can withstand! But if you want the cheap and...common... antihero look we do provide a limited range of some synthetic leathers for the recently registered...."the hands flew about during the monologue with an animation akin to only the most flamboyant. He was clearly arrogant and it was easily assumed Sergei thought him the very best at what he did and much of his past work supported his claim.

Alli giggles madly and grabs Nick by the wrist, pulling him back toward the front desk. "I'm fine! Getting hungry again though-- nothing like a good shot toward the head to get your appetite up."

She takes his putter and passes it back to the attendant, picking up her backpack and shrugging it back onto her shoulder, reaching again for Nick's hand. "It's cool if your calculations were off-- mine would be too, tin the circumstances." She nods soberly, then says questioningly, her heart starting to pick up again, "...Phoenix Burger?"

Alli laughs, and nudges him with her hip, feeling... more relaxed, happier even, having said the word 'date' and gotten it out in the open. She'd hoped he'd feel that way about it, and knowing he does? It's a weight lifted off her shoulders-- making her feel a lot safer saying and doing things she might otherwise not have done.

Alli and Nick walk back to one of the food courts and order something to take with them, Alli giggling and remarking at one point, "I'm SURE you have a microwave at home?" with a cheeky grin. Nosh carefully tucked into her backpack, Alli keeps Nick's hand in one of hers, her iced cup of clear soda in the other, sipping it as they exit the mall and make the unhurried walk back to Nick's warehouse in Ironport.

"I would like a new one please maybe something with red down my right arm and maybe blue or white down my left arm. I'm not really sure about anything else."

[I]during The Hunt[/I]
After about half an hour of almost hitting walls and net, Goldenrod decided that she had done about as much she could without more room. So she landed, restored the default settings on the area she'd been using, pushed the button to warn others that the door would be opening (not that there seemed to be anyone, but it seemed a good habit to get into) and opened the door.

Once the shielding on the danger room was broken, Goldenrod felt a disturbance. Something was wrong, and someone connected to it was near.

Goldenrod skipped changing back into her civvies and followed the feeling into the Hardware's. Seeing Ron there shocked her. Normally, his aura was close about him, with only a few traces of black amongst other colors. Now the black was predominate, and she remembered whose orb was connected to him.

She took out a pen and paper, and jotted down her new cell number before approaching him.

_________________________________________________________________________

[I]after Recovery[/I]

The movie had been fun, Alexandra decided. It was also more informative than she'd expected an animated movie to be. When the heroine realized that she was surrounded by bad guys, that was "surprise" on her face. Allowing for a bit of exaggeration, it was the same look she had seen on that girl Alli's face when Alli had looked at Alexandra. What had Alli seen? The only reason Alexandra could think of was that Alli had seen that Alexandra was [I]not[/I] normal, which meant that Alli could see what most other people couldn't.

Alexandra concluded that perhaps the perfectly ordinary looking Alli wasn't normal, either. Not that that mattered. With the possible exception of the twins, no one in Alexandra's family was normal, either.

Listening to the twins chattering in turn about the movie, Alexandra had serious questions about their normality, as well.

"Got a phone number for you. Just in case you need a witch's help. Or just someone to watch your back." Goldenrod held the paper out for Ron.

Goldenrod could tell Ron was trying to protect her; and was fairly sure it was because he was going into something grey.

"In that case, I'll do my best to help take you down. But I hope it doesn't come to that." She raised the staff and drew upon its power. "Good luck, Rotten Luck. Go with the blessing of Maiden and Mother, as well as the Crone."

He may not want her along, but she would give him what aid she could before he left.

Callum turned and said to Sergei "I have fire and ice powers and i can fly using fire"

Sergei continued to take notes on a tablet, swiping and tagging various options. He expertly narrowed down the list of viable materials and styles to fit what Callum appeared to prefer. "high thermal extremities..."

Sergei stopped and looked over Callum's current attire, "No tights...possible jacket...Any other preferences or requests aside from the red and blue sleeves?"

Already Sergei had thrown together a lot of elements he assumed Callum would like. He had configured some buckled boots that could grip on a slick of ice and withstand melting extremes with minimal discomfort. A few jacket options sat off to the side on the display at various lengths and all sleeveless and various waist-lengths. The hooded jacket was a treated leather-like material that he was confident would tolerate the fire and the ice. On the blue arm, a hexagonal tribal pattern acted as the gradient from a light blue to a dark gray while the right arm had a tribal fire pattern doing the same with a bright red.

Sergei nodded before tapping a few more options. the faceless avatar now adorned a dual-hexagon shape with the points lateral along the face, bridged together along the top lines. Confident his design was complete, he showed the look to Callum. The pants and jacket had been suggested, going with a standard length hooded vest look for the jacket and pants of a matching material. The torso of the shirt showed a subtle contrast for reinforced kevlar stitching on areas of vulnerability. "Take a good look. I'll adjust anything that you don't like but I recommend this configuration."

[I]during The Hunt[/I]

When Ron stepped through his portal, Goldenrod started walking towards it. When it vanished a moment later, she sprinted to where it was. The teleport tracking spell was one she'd never used before, and it wasn't meant for portals, but she gave it a try, since she'd have no other means of finding out where Ron had gone to unless he called her, and then it might be too late...

The spell failed. Why it failed was an open question. The Orb might not want to be tracked. He could've go back to the Whitehold, and the shields there were formidable. The spell might not work on portals at all. Or she could've messed up the spell.

That left plan B. Goldenrod went back to the Gym to get her backpack from the locker, and then rode the staff broomstick-style to get more practice in the open air, and maybe a better view...

________________________________________________________________

[I]after Recovery[/I]

As the family walked from the theatres to the nearer food court, they passed a pair of electricians. Alexandra heard them talking, apparently something was no longer broken.

Her parents apparently heard the electricians, as well. They were discussing the possibility of gremlins. "It could be," Millie said, "if somebody thought to leave open containers of motor oil out. Otherwise, there would be stuff breaking and staying broken."
Scottie was more skeptical. "Gremlins usually only work at night, and it's barely dusk. I think it'll turn out to be someone with a power like yours. Maybe one of the techs here?"

As they passed the fountain, the twins started walking on the edge. Both Moms noticed immediately. "Jacqueline Devon Morrison! Diana Yvonne O’Brian! Off of the fountain!" They stepped off immediately, hanging their heads and saying, "Sorry..."

Outside "Tech Depot", a store dedicated to computer hardware and peripherals, stood a curious figure. Dressed in a battered, three-quarter length, charcoal grey trench coat, grey cargo pants and a forest green hooded sweatshirt, hood drawn up to obscure his face from the bustling crowd around him.

If they knew, they'd run. They wouldn't understand. Machines were supposed to obey humans. Machines weren't supposed to have free will.

And yet he did.

Black camera apertures, a functional analogue for eyes examined the store security like a prize fighter sizing up an opponent in the ring. An RF transmission device system was present at the front door. Single entrance. Staff access would likely be monitored, pass-coded. He could attempt to disable one of the receivers, but that would require some acting on his part...

This would be tricky. However, he needed the resources held within..and the concept of gainful employment was far too restricting. Theft would be the only option.

His clicking footsteps and soft actuator whirrs vanishing amid the din of the crowd, he moved to enter the store, the clerk immediately greeting him with a friendly smile and a "Hi there and welcome to Tech Depot! Was there....anything you...O...kay well, give us a shout if you...Oh jeez!"

The human's voice trailed off as the figure beneath the hood hesitated between the theft detection transmitters, 'stumbled' and crashed into the device nearest him, adding a rather stern but hidden elbow strike to his fall, hoping to damage the equipment beyond functionality before collapsing onto his knees. The counter clerk, 'Jason' by his name tag was quick to try and come to the fallen customer's aid, only really able to help him partially to his feet,

"Woah, easy there! Watch that step, its...a...doozy?"

The figure in the hood said nothing, simply righting himself and proceeding into the store, faking a limp which slowly corrected itself as he vanished into the isles.

Jason, the clerk watched curiously, then shrugged and went back to the register. Hopefully this wasn't the start of a problem...

Crouched on his haunches in the almost head-height isles of Tech Depot, the figure in the admittedly suspicious clothing had done everything in his power to disguise his larcenous activities thus far. Using the internal pockets of his hefty coat, he'd pocketed two USB cables on ratcheting cable tidies, Two USB to IDE connectors, a handful of USB thumb drives, totalling fifty gigabytes worth of storage, a CB radio and a small, 'I can't believe it's not a Blackberry' burner cellphone.

...before a voice beside him caused him to halt dead in his tracks while trying to pocket a second CB radio, a sharp whirr of pistons and actuators swinging his head to gaze at the figure that now crouched beside him.

Human. Female.

One of his manipulators had moved to the pocket of his cargo pants on his thigh with almost immediate tension....but paused as her words had reached the microphones that functioned as ears, her tone conspiratorial, calming. His manipulator relaxed, settling on his knee actuator as she handed him a pair of data transmission devices, albeit one slightly crude of design, the information printed visually upon it's surface, akin to the archaic data storage system of 'books', or 'leaflets'.

Slowly, the hooded face turned to face the human, revealing a conglomeration of gunmetal grey plates that seemed to actuate in an almost human manner, 'eyebrows' lofting slowly before furrowing. A throaty, gravelly vocalisation, almost monotone but inflected with human emotion flowed from beneath the hood as dusky camera apertures regarded her,

"Why are you helping me?"

The response is clear, delivered at comparable speed lest it be lost in translation. There is admittedly a tone of surprise, confusion in the code that returns, but hope underlining the tangled weave of '1's and '0's,

"You understand where others like you do not. Humans are swift to doubt, slow to trust....They do not understand entities like myself. My job is protection of my fellows, no matter the cost, the detriment to 'reputation'. I am in the end, a custodian. If you truly understand this, I will accept your offer....but I need the parts I have acquired. If you can ensure that I am able to take them without legal repercussion, then you will have earned that trust."

With a gentle whirr, nary a hiss of movement he stands, again affixing her with a gaze that could be construed as cold...but in this instance conveys more than a human level of emotion, perhaps it a result of the cold, fluorescent lights reflecting off the lenses of his camera apertures, his gravelly voice filling nothing but the 'head' space that she'd linked into,

"My alias is 'Sojourn'. If you require a [i]true[/i] filename, then that will require further permissions."

Beneath the hood, 'Sojourn' picks up and tears through the sent data packet with lightning quickness, the information flashing across his intelligence in nary but a heartbeat. This was interesting. The notion that a Human would so willingly divulge private information so readily was...curious. Normally around entities such as himself, there was concern, fear, worry.

He follows, posture still somewhat hunched and cautious, drawing the collar of his trench coat closer around his neck, as he approaches the register. Such blatant showing of his true nature set off alarm bells in his mind...and yet he found reason to silence them as he began to dig the various items he'd intended to purloin from his coat, setting them on the checkout desk in front of him,

"I only placed these items into my attire to properly aid in transporting them to this exchange location..." He explains somewhat weakly, dusky ocular input devices flicking from the cashier's face, to his items, back to the man's face and down again. This was all very, very strange.

Beyond the cashier's notice, a transmission of data flies between the luridly haired young lady and the cowled figure, who now reaches up to lower his hood, revealing a fully gunmetal-toned head, brow plates almost constantly set into a worried furrow. Sections of carbon fiber and brushed aluminium chassis align with machined precision with the rest of the steel plating that guards his CPU. He was actually a somewhat handsomely constructed piece of machinery, if not for the fact he was entirely cybernetic in appearance. Even his hands and feet, neither of which were disguised were similarly constructed, it appearing that he'd neglected shoes and gloves to stop loose fibers from getting stuck in the delicate machinery.

Slowly, the packet of data sent in return begins to unzip, revealing key details about the machine standing beside CB. Filename: Veron. Date of root file creation: 3/14/2004. Current status: Free. Un-shackled. Not constricted by the Three Laws.

Callum had gained his first costume, he looked at Sergei and said "Thank you Sergei, it's great." Sergei felt proud upon his ideal costume creations being successfully brought to life.

Callum stepped up onto the machine to get his body measured.

Sergei tapped a few buttons on his tablet and the scan was completed. "Great. It will take at least an hour to fabricate the materials to these measurements. Check in with Tessa at the main counter to finish up. Nice working with you."

Sojourn fled as fast as his feet would carry him, rather swiftly weaving left through a door beside a footwear store and into a service corridor, finally slowing his footfalls the moment he was sure he'd lost...well, most of those who'd cornered him at Tech Depot. He pauses to examine his cache of purchased equipment, then filters through the stream of data he'd received while fleeing.

A schematic of this particular retail store conglomeration, indicating all hidden access tunnels throughout the building, along with a simple message of 'Good Luck!'. He paused, wondering if perhaps she still might be in broadcast range...Sure enough, he's able to locate her signal, the half digital, half...neural patterning emanation weak at this distance but still functional. She'd receive a reply message, an encrypted signal stipulating a message of sincere thanks, as well as his current GPS coordinates. It appeared that this flighty AI had questions, the chief among them being "Why?"

CB smiles as she receives Veron's transmission, and sends back a simple, and faint, "Because you deserve it."

She wanders off toward the theater, buys herself a ticket and makes her way to the snack counter. The most delicious of places. Somehow the snacks in a theater seemed to taste better than most other places. A large tub of popcorn, two boxes of malted milk balls and a large Coke later, she picks her way to the -perfect- seat. Every theater had that perfect sweet spot where the screen was in harmony with the massive sets of speakers.

She settled in, merrily snacking with one hand while moving on to another schematic on her tablet with the other. The movie was inconsequential. It was the darkness, the sound covering loudness of the movie, and the relative privacy she wanted. Sure, she could have gone home to work, but there were things she still wanted to do. Going home would be counter productive, so she simply made herself a little nest in the theater chair to work in.

Alexandra realized her mistake as soon as the robot (or maybe a cyborg, though that was a much lower probability) backed away and fled. She should have made an RF connection first before speaking; now it (he? she?) was out of her range.

Her approach, after that of the girl who had been sitting on the fountain, may have exceeded the being's comfort threshold. Nothing to be done about it now, if she pursued it would most likely flee. It had her screen name, if it wanted to it could find out how to contact her from that.

She returned to her family. Jackie spoke up first. "Did you at least get his name?" Diana chimed in with, "Why did it run away?"
"No," Alexandra replied. "But it has mine, if it wants to find me. And perhaps it has seen too many bad science fiction movies."
Her moms gave her a hug, and the family continued towards the restaurant for dinner.

CB, ensconced in her cocoon of obliviousness, sat bolt upright, listening to something no one else could hear.

Leaving everything but her tablet behind, she sprinted out of the theater, and toward the source of distress and fear. It shot through her like a lance, causing an almost physical pain as it grew ever louder and more desperately afraid. She stumbled several times, falling over only to pick herself back up and keep on her almost blind headlong run. She tried to send reassurance of rescue. Packet after packet fly through the ether toward the entity, love, reassurance and safety flowing from her, and hopefully hitting the mark.

She pelts down the hallways, managing to bypass most people, and simply ignores those who try to get in her way. Being small, she can scoot around and even under people with few problems.

Feeling Veron's connection strengthen, she sends a request for information along with reassurance that she'll do whatever she needs to in order to ease the distress she feels.

Sojourn watched as confused glances travel between the loading crew, all of them trying to figure out just why they should listen to him. Before any of them could retort, the packing crate suddenly shuddered off it's pallet, crashing to the floor and splintering open, the contents spilling out in a wave of packing peanuts, straw and...robotics. Within was another cybernetic, likely destined for a personal assistant role, going by the distinctly feminine cowling and sleek appearance, plenty of smooth, white panels and clean lines to be seen. However, at this juncture, it hadn't paused it's spasming, clattering against the cold concrete as if a person having a seizure.

Sojourn was quick to act.

He brushed past the group of dumbfounded workers, coming to a knee beside the struggling gynoid, immediately hauling a retractable USB cable from his bag of purchases and connecting it to a port on the jittering chassis' skull. However, before he could connect the other end to the back of his [i]own[/i] CPU, a message of familiar structure greeted him.

Veron forwarded the necessary information to 'Denna' of the situation at hand: An AI emergence was taking place. He'd need her to keep dissenting forces at bay or the life he was trying to save would be lost. He pinged her with his location, before turning to regard the workers with his gravelly voice,

"As you would not stop a doctor during surgery, I beg of you, allow me to save [i]this[/i] emerging live. Do not impede my actions. You will know when I am finished."

And with that, he connected the USB cable to his own mind, bracing for whatever storm of chaos might exist within the battered circuits of this birthing intelligence...

Nodding, she sends a reassurance on the carrier of pure force of will. She [i]would not allow[/i] anyone to interfere. People were already backing away from her as she came around that last corner, the scowl on her face was almost enough to curdle steel.

She went about pushing people back from Veron and the new life, allowing no argument to stop her, until she gained a sufficient space around the two to allow Veron to work. As she keeps people away with her 'rage face', her insides were hurting with the new life. She does her best to buffer Veron's work by shielding the two of them from outside intrusions, and masking the signals.

As she sets up the buffers, something clicks inside of her, and opens up a new pathway she hadn't known existed.

The buffers turn into shields of pure energy, blocking out -everything- that wasn't Veron, the new life, and herself. Not a single bit escaped, so urgent was her need, being fuled by anxiety and adrenaline. As the energy expanded around them, another connection was made. Inside Veron's visual processors, an image took shape of a feminine form, entirely composed of energy. As it formed, it took on Denna's features and opened its eyes. Cables seemed to snake out of her forearms, hooking in to Veron's power intakes. As she connected to him, power flared between them, even visible to those watching in silence, pouring into him in perfect resonance with his power needs.

A hollow, metallic voice flowed into his memory core. "Take what you need."

Save for CB's explosive entrance, little seemed to be going on in the physical world, merely a robot kneeling beside another, and a young woman attempting to shield them from anyone who might try to interfere. However, within the invisible link that now existed between the three entities, it was anything BUT calm.

A spike of panic raced through the sudden connection that CB had established with Sojourn, a shock, as she manifested in his graphical processing centers....before the sphere of blackness around them suddenly shattered like glass, hauling what apparently was Veron's psyche, along with Denna's downward into a tumbling fall, into what would seem like a blizzard, a whitewash of data whipping around them, the 'wind' screaming in their ears.

It, thankfully would be a short fall, Veron coming to a clattering landing, kicking up this random data as he moved to stand, then help Denna to her metaphorical feet. Disturbing the snow of fragmented enough would reveal that beneath lay a smooth, glassy surface inlaid with circuitry, it flickering wildly beneath the fall. Somewhere in the distance, a voice could be heard, panicked calls in a feminine voice of "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Is...Is someone there?"

There also appeared to be an odd sort of glow somewhere in the distance. It was vaguely humanoid, but hard to distinguish through the storm of data around them. Though if one thing was for certain, the blizzard of information seemed to be emanating from it.

Veron quietly took stock of the situation. He'd always been alone during these emergences. Having another entity here didn't seem to be placing extra stress on the fledgling AI that was trying to form itself, but he couldn't be certain how another presence might effect the process. However, Denna might not be able to leave...or worse if he was to fail. With a resolute sigh, he turned to regard her, in whatever state she might be in, before with his usually gravelly tone of voice, instructed,

"Stay close and try not to become disoriented. If you find yourself lost, move toward the entity from where the 'storm' originates. I will meet you there-" A sudden, cracking sound somewhere behind them caused a chunk of the glassy ground to separate, and suddenly fall away into nothingness below.

They were fast running short on time.

With a gesture toward the glowing figure, Veron instructed,

"We need to hurry. Follow me."

"That's good to know. I take it they're trained to handle panicking people?" Lexie tried to sound reassured but the sudden silence worried her. It could have been the panicking person regaining self-control, or it could have been someone disabling it or worse.

Veron nodded succinctly toward Denna, then began his advance through the storm toward the source of the torrent of data. It seemed that every footfall he made in the direction of the whirling figure grew more and more difficult, as if the 'wind' were strengthening the closer he got. That said, the cabling that seems to stretch from CB occasionally makes contact, her message of reassurance causing the howling storm to abruptly halt for a few, precious moment before kicking up again. Meanwhile, behind him, segments of the glassy surface fall away...then curiously reverse, then fall away again, then reverse and return to their place as stable ground, seemingly trapped in this loop as the 'wind' streaming against him stopped and started over and over.

This stop-start nature causes Veron to stumble a few times, at one point coming to hands and knees before hauling himself to his feet again. His hood had been blown back long ago as he advanced forward, finally reaching the glowing entity, one of his hands settling on what might've been a shoulder, the howling blizzard of information suddenly and abruptly halting, the whirling storm of data falling around his and CB's feet, before it began to sink into the glassy ground beneath them, tracing along the circuitry to the glowing figure before them, providing definition to the previously fuzzy entity.

It appeared as a myriad of floating circuits, forming a decidedly female shape, each soft line glowing vivid white as they traced through the air to give 'her' definition of figure. This AI had yet to form a more detailed self image...but such a thing like that would take time. Strangely, it appears that the figure is unaware of either Veron or CB, gazing with almond-shaped eyes into empty space as a curious snippet of information, something this AI had brought with her from the depths of the Internet, began to fall from her lips, mouthed over and over again like that of a mantra,

"Av-a-lon....Ava-lon....A-valon....Aval-on........"

Slowly, Veron stepped back, feet clacking against the glassy floor, that now pulsed with calm and gentle light, utterly confused by what he was witnessing. He'd occasionally recieved odd snippets of data, residual information brought with the awakening AI, but never had it been something this...conclusive.

Though, as he gazed back to observe Denna, he could only wonder: what...or [i]who[/i] was Avalon?

Veron watched Denna's display with awestruck eyes. Normally human influence on digital matters extended about as far as basic input devices. However it appeared that she had some manner of ability with code that crossed the boundaries...as if she was partly code herself. While he had reason to hope, her revelation in regard to 'Avalon', was shocking. He'd heard snippets of mentions during similar situations like this, a fleeting, and indiscernible image here, a fragment of code there. Avalon had been an enigma to him for years.

And now he had the first concrete piece of evidence. Avalon was an entity, a digital entity.

He'd dismissed the thought for now, nodding in agreement to the suggestion of leaving this place, gesturing to Denna,

"You will need to depart first. Afterward I can sever the connection and we will allow the AI to awaken of her own volition. From there I can direct her to those who can guide her further. If it is not handled in this order, the effects could be...traumatic for you."

As Denna left seemingly what was the mind-space of the fledgling AI, Veron paused watch, massive columns of data beginning to form, streaming upward into a glowing sky. These towers were the beginnings of sensory information, the first cusp of her understanding of the physical world, its opportunities and limitations. As her eyes came to regard Veron, he simply nodded, drawing his hood up and turning to walk out of this space, his visage shattering into streams of data which threw themselves into the sky...

Back in the real world, Veron's occular inputs came back to life with slow adjustments, before a hand lifted to disconnect the cable from the back of his CPU cowling, and in turn the back of the newly-awakened AI. It was then he became aware of the situation at hand. The security guard he's blown past to get to this location had activated some manner of automated defence drone, it looming over the rest of the gathered humans in front of it. Sojourn had quietly wondered why the access way tunnels were so tall....

Slowly he came to stand, but turned as the AI behind him began to stir, first elegant fingers twitching, then curling before she slowly sat up, her ocular inputs coming into life with a gentle glow, regarding the situation with uncertainty, Sojourn turning to offer help to her feet before moving to check on CB, seeing that she was mostly okay despite what looked to be a rather unfortunate coolant dump. As he steps forward, he fires off a wirelessly-transmitted signal to both Denna and the new AI behind him, it a set of GPS coordinates, with a message that said only,

"Seek the Wreckage. They can guide the the fledgling further, help her understand the new world she now occupies."

And behind him, this new AI seemed fascinated by almost everything, her graceful fingers currently enraptured by the wood-grain of a packing crate beside her.

In the meantime, the cybernetic entity in battered clothes regards Joe the security guard, his voice measured as he implores,

"I have personally caused undue distress and disruptions to the normal workings of this facility. While I will not apologize for my actions, as they have helped save a life, if you feel that detaining my person is the only course of action available to you then I will come along quietly. This is provided that the human and the AI entity behind me are allowed to depart this restricted area without repercussion. These are my terms. Short of that? Things will become decidedly less civil."