towerofanimus | Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

Entry tags:

Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

Characters:	Late arrival David "Little David" Puskás and anyone and everyone!
Setting:	Any Dormitory Floors and staircases leading down to Floor Ninety-One. Later, the Cafeteria.
Format:	Starting with Prose, will match tagger's choice.
Summary:	Some people take the news that their world has been destroyed with nonchalance. Little David ... is not one of them.
Warnings:	Beware of low-flying superheroes!

Introspection

     David "Little David" Puskás bolts upright in his bed. The sleep paralysis left him in a state of mild panic. You'd think a Blaster like himself wouldn't be bothered by that sort of thing, given their reputation for being able to fight even in their sleep—but rarely does something like this just happen out of nowhere ... what was he doing before, anyway? Wait—no, that's right, he was about to return to Primal Earth after performing another dimension-scouting mission for Portal Corp. How'd he wind up out of his armor and in some kind of white spandex bodysuit? And in somebody else's bed? Because there's no way this could be his digs in Kings Row. His bedroom wasn't nearly this big or bland, and he sure as heck didn't share it with three other people—

     At last, David notices the letters waiting for him on the nightstand. Without getting out of the bed just yet, he reaches over and picks them both up, scanning over the first one.

     Your world has been destroyed.

     David's guts turn to ice.

     I saved you.

     No.

     Let's all be happy here.

     No.

     Screw. That. Noise.

     David doesn't even bother reading the second letter. Both of them are slammed down onto his nightstand as he tears right out of his bed—he needs to get out of here, wherever this is. He needs to get back to Primal Earth. He's got to see this destruction for himself, and if it's true—there's got to be a way to fix it. Somehow. If nothing else Silos and his Menders at Ouroboros would know what caused it and what to do—where is his gear?!

     It takes David a second to notice in his mild panic to notice the trunks and open the one at the foot of his own bed. With all the sloppy second-guessing of an impromptu fire drill, David starts gathering the pieces of his suit from the trunk, strapping them on and suiting up much as a knight would don plate mail. Once he's fully suited up and the helmet's heads-up display clicks on, David starts grabbing for his gadgets and weapons, only to find that there's only a scant few things waiting for him in the trunk—and what did they do to his rifle?! Completely in pieces, none of his ammunition to be found anywhere, not even the nanofactory—screw it, he can find a replacement on Primal Earth easily.

     He just needs to get out of here, right now—wait. First, he opens the travel cigar case he'd just placed on his belt and places a fresh stogie in his mouth. Then he bolts for the door, kicking off into the air as his back and boot-mounted plasma thrusters flare to life.

     Can't forget the cigar. Not even during the apocalypse.

Option A: Any Dormitory Floors and stairways between Floors 101 and 92

     "GANGWAY! GANGWAY! HERO ON OFFICIAL BUSINESS!"

     Little David's yelling that as he rockets through the Dormitory Floors and down into the tower proper. If he's not the only person here who's been "rescued" from the end of their world, then he has no reason to suspect that people wandering the hallways are potential minions of whatever villain laid Primal Earth low. Or so he's thinking right now. That, and he's not exactly in a position to go "defeat all enemies" lacking in ammunition and an assembled rifle as he is.

     So right now he's focusing on finding an exit out of this place as fast as possible, and he's flying as fast as he can manage through the corridors and hallways of each floor in pursuit of that goal. Initially he tries traveling up the tower only to find that the first dormitory floor is the highest accessible point, then tries making his way down instead. For a short, squat guy wearing a suit of armor that makes him look like Danny DeVito trying out for an American football team, he's surprisingly nimble, almost like a flying dolphin—not once does he splat into a wall, though he does kick off of them a few times to keep his momentum up as he rounds corners and traverses staircases.

     "OUTTA DA WAY! GET OUTTA DA WAY!"

     Of course, the same avoidance of an ungraceful collision with the confines of the tower can't be said for surprise pedestrians in his path ...

Option B: Floor 91 - CLOSED TO ~~FIRST RESPONDER~~

swordedpast

     Continuing his trek down the tower's floors, trying to find some means of escape, Little David's already seen how bizarre the floors can get. He hasn't given most of them more than a glance, though, because—let's face it, would a giant ball pit be the ideal place for a dimensional gateway to other worlds? If that letter had any truth to it (and considering how this tower's owners managed to grab him right in the middle of returning to Primal Earth), there are billions—no, probably orders of magnitude more than that—of lives at stake. Ball pits are a secondary objective.

     When Little David flies down the staircase to Floor 91, his first thought is surprise at finding that the tower seems utterly disconnected from the rest of itself. That is some high technology or magic at work, right there.

     Then he wonders if he could take a shortcut and fly down the side of the tower to find a possible exit back to Primal Earth.

     —and then the flight system's thrusters cut out, as if he had manually switched them off.

     It only takes a fraction of a second for David to recognize just what is happening: Power Suppression!

     Without the flight system active, David has no way to correct for inertia. He's carried right off the stairway, thudding onto the floor and skidding across toward one edge of the tower. He tries to claw at the tower's floor, hoping he can find a handhold before he slides right off the edge of the tower. Who knows how far he'd fall—and if whoever it is that's spirited him away to this tower messed with his stuff upon "saving" him, they probably have taken or taken apart the MediCom Teleporter, too.

     Little David manages to stop his slide just as his legs go over the edge. Now he's struggling to pull himself back up, without much of a stable grip to do it with. Normally pulling himself up off of a ledge wouldn't be a problem, but, well ... Power Suppression is a bitch. So is the fact that the floor is unshielded from the stratosphere, something that he is starting to take notice of in detrimental ways.

     He's going to need some help.

Option C: Cafeteria

     Some time after the ordeal on Floor 91 and having had time to process what information he's gleaned about the Tower thus far, Little David finally heads down to the cafeteria (using the elevator this time) to get some food. Oatmeal, if he's been told about that particular ritual every new arrival must go through. If not, he'll have a small altercation with the units that might be working here, but either way he's going to end up with a bowl of the stuff and not appear all that happy about it.

     Though what's really eating at him is the prospect that his entire universe, everyone he's ever known, just up and died like that. Five years of his life spent as a superhero trying to keep that from happening, and it happened anyway. So he's trying to figure out the cause for that in his head while he eats the oatmeal, going over every possible threat he's been aware of that could be capable of ending the whole universe. At least it takes his mind off of the blandness of the mush.

     And yes, he still has the cigar, currently holding it between fingers in one hand while he eats the oatmeal. And it's never been lit, this entire time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Once the other guy has been pulled up from the edge, Archer staggers back, struggling to draw enough air into his lungs to find the strength to return to the stairs. It takes him a moment before he realizes it's not going to get any better, and so he gives one last tug at David's arm.

"Get to your feet, idiot; if we both collapse here it'll be embarrassing--" And then he's stumbling to the stairs. By the time he gets there he's almost crawling.

When he steps onto the stairs, though, he doesn't gasp for breath or pant to recover; he just straightens up as his powers return to him and watches the other man with cold, serious eyes.

David caught enough of what this crimson-garbed fellow said to make some kind of acknowledgment.

"—Geh! Don't—gotta—tell me—!"

Though between fighting to remain conscious and trying to keep his teeth clamped on that cigar, it's hard for David to speak up over the zonal winds ... and despite the years he's spent as a hero, David's still not in that great of physical shape, so it's more of a struggle to get back to the safety of the stairwell than it is for this other guy. All he's got going for him is that defiant streak, spurred on by his savior's brand of encouragement.

He is not going to die here.

Primal Earth needs its heroes now more than ever.

By the time he manages to reach the staircase, David's on his hands and knees, gasping for air—but once within the stairwell's boundary, the suit's core systems reactivate, most importantly the autodoc. Color is starting to return to David's face, but he's not as quick to rebound from the stratospheric conditions outside as this other man.

Edited (*tosses away errant semicolon*) 2013-05-30 21:27 (UTC)

For a few moments after David reaches the stairs, as Archer watches the man in the suit struggle to regain his composure, he says nothing, does nothing. Just stands there with his arms at his sides, his expression remote.

Finally, he speaks, and there's no sympathy in his voice, even though he was the one who saved this guy. "Jeez. What kind of a person are you, getting yourself in trouble in a place like this? You can't expect your powers to always save you in this tower. Learn that lesson well."

By this point David's finally feeling enough like himself to respond. He gets up off the floor to kneel on one knee instead, preferring not to move very much until the autodoc finishes with treating his hypoxia. He looks up at this red-robed man, gritting his teeth with indignation.

"What kinda person am I? What kinda numbskull says dey're sayin' people an' den builds a floor up near outer space, with no freakin' walls?!"

David sweeps a free hand out toward the edge where he almost fell off. He may be thinking that this guy is one of the native residents of the tower, there.

Archer's expression doesn't change. Well, that's not entirely true. A hint of irritation flickers through his eyes. That's about it. "Are you blaming me? You should be more reasonable. I'm a victim of this place, the same as you. I've no love for the people who built it, if they're people at all."

He sweeps his gaze out along with David's hand, to reach the edge in question. Disdain has crept into his voice when he speaks again. "Did you really believe them when they said they'd saved you? Jeez, there may be less hope for you even than I thought."

"Well, I got plenty of reason to question it now," David retorts with a sort of grumbling tone. He's a little annoyed at the implication that he's hopeless, but, well—nearly taking a nose dive off the side of the Tower isn't the best of first impressions. "Kinda hard not to take a letter like dat at face value when keepin' da end of da world from happenin' is my business." David pauses for a moment, if just to catch his breath. He's giving Archer a more discerning look. That's ... not just street clothes he's wearing, is it? That vest almost looks like body armor ... Impervium, maybe? If it's Impervium—

"So—fine, so you're not one of dem. I get dat. Dey take you from Primal Earth, too?"

The faintest of more serious frowns passes over Archer's face. "Your business, huh? Then do you so readily assume that you've failed?" He neglects to mention that, in fact, his business is also about keeping the end of the world from happening, and he also took the letter at face value when he arrived.

But the frown quickly fades into an unimpressed look at the question. "Primal Earth? That's nothing I've heard of. They took me from Earth, no 'Primal' involved."

"It ain't over 'till da fat lady sings," David replies. "If I get back an' da whole world really is dead an' gone? Dere's still Ouroboros. Go back in time an' find a way to stop it from happenin'." Especially if it's the Coming Storm. Mender Silos ought to be flipping his lid right now, if it is.

Then he considers this guy's reaction to the question about Primal Earth ... Okay, so they're not from the same dimension, and he's likely not from any of the ones that have had contact with Primal Earth. A hunch which he voices.

"An' I take it da peoples from your Earth ain't had much contact with other dimensions, if you're all still calling it just 'Earth.'"

Irritation quickly replaces the serious look on Archer's face. This guy is already getting on his nerves; just why did he go to so much effort to save him, after all? (Because it's in his blood like a chronic infection by now, the need to save people.)

"...time travel." For a moment, the irritation is put on hold so he can look thoughtful. Then he shakes his head. "That's a perfectly good idea, except whatever you use to do it with has also been destroyed." He gives a little snort. "It's the same with my world. I--" A brief pause, as he registers the question. "Some people experiment with other dimensions, but they're eccentrics, risking madness with their magic."

"Shame, dat. Maybe it's just safer to do with tech instead of magic. Look at me, Portal Corp had me scoutin' for threats from other dimensions an' I'm still sane."

Realizing that the autodoc has finished with bringing him back to a relatively healthy state, David stands up—revealing just how short he is, especially in comparison to Archer there. Of course, David doesn't think much of it—

"Anyways, I don't see how Ouroboros could be gone. I dunno where or when Silos put his base, but it ain't in da present, I can tell you dat."

"Man." Archer's tone is flat, save for the creeping disdain that begins to color it. "What part of 'your world has been destroyed' don't you understand? Well, that's assuming it's true, but that seems to be the most likely option at this point. What it means is everything. Past. Present. Future. It is all gone, from start to finish."

He glances down at the shorter man, unfazed by his bulky suit or his determined attitude, and starts to casually walk past him on the steps. "You can continue being a hero if you wish. I'm not interested in stopping you."

Oh.

Now he gets it. If that's what they meant by destruction of the world—not merely as an event in a point of time, but everything ... As the other man walks past, David turns to watch him go, mouth agape. Enough that the cigar is almost about to fall right out of his mouth. If what this man is saying is true at all—is there really no hope left for Primal Earth?

... but that thing he said just as he started walking off spurs David into following him. "Why would you—"

Whoops. He forgot about the flight system. The moment he follows his rescuer off Floor Ninety-One, the suit's thrusters kick in and send David airborne again, forcing him to stop talking momentarily while he regains control. He'd rather not end up doing something else embarrassing so soon after his recent brush with death, like smacking his head into the ceiling.

Thankfully for David, he only needs a second before he's got the thrusters under control. Now hovering a foot or so off the staircase. Which, given how short he is, would make him just about at eye height to Archer if they were on level ground.

"Why would you stop a hero from bein' a hero, anyway?"

Edited (*rewords a little*) 2013-06-05 10:34 (UTC)

Archer seems prepared to make good on his word--I'm not interested in stopping you--and simply walk away from David. He's in the process of doing that, ignoring his little near-spill from the thrusters, when David stops him with a question.

"Hah."

The little breath of a comment is laced with bitterness.

"I said I wouldn't, you know. I have plans of my own that can't be wasted on you. But there are many reasons why someone would. Heroes bring ruin as much as they bring salvation."

"Yeah, I know you said you weren't gonna, but—yeah, dat, see?" David's referring to what Archer just said, reasons why someone would want to stop a hero.

"Sometimes we screw up, I'll grant you. But if heroes don't step up to da plate when supervillains are out dere causin' trouble, dey're gonna cause tons more ruin dan we'd cause from tryin' to stop dem."

There's a sort of exasperated earnestness in David's voice. He's already thinking back to what almost happened to his ex-wife, and to the Rikti War prior to that. If it weren't for heroes ...

"Where do you think those supervillains came from?" Archer speaks bluntly, with no emotion but a faint, impatient disdain.

"The same urge that drives humans to play at heroism gives rise to supervillains as well. After all, from their own perspective the villain may appear to be a hero."

"Yeah, so what? Just 'cause a madman thinks he's doin' da world a favor by—by tryin' to wipe humanity off da face of da planet, don't mean he's right," David replies as he continues following Archer.

He's not completely absorbed in this debate on heroism he's having with his rescuer—any time they come to a new floor, David takes a quick glance around. Looking for anything that ... what, he doesn't know anymore. He's still hoping that he might find a lead on a way out of here, but if Primal Earth has been destroyed in every possible way it could be destroyed, what else can he do?

Aside from continuing to bother this guy, of course.

"An' it ain't like dey're gonna go away if all da good guys with superpowers say 'ain't my business.' You ever see what happens when cops or da army try an' deal with a supervillain? It ain't pretty."

"Naturally it doesn't mean he's right." Archer rolls his eyes. "Well, some might say he is. There's little about humanity that's worth protecting, but that's not my business. I protect it all the same."

He doesn't spare much thought for the floors around them himself. He's seen them all by now, at least a little. He does pause, though, at a last comment from the other man. "Superpowers? Hah, is that what makes a superhero to you?"

Boy, this guy's sour. Still, he says he's a protector of humanity. And the guy risked his own life to save him, so David doesn't have much reason to suspect otherwise ...

"Well, yeah," David says in response to Archer's question. "Dat's really da only difference between a hero an' a superhero. It's like—well, it's like dis guy Tin Mage said. Bein' a hero is about choice. Heroes choose to help others an' be selfless, puttin' deir life at risk if they gotta. An' a superhero's just a hero with superpowers."

Edited (Whoops. *rewords*) 2013-06-10 18:39 (UTC)

"Tch!" A dismissive little breath escapes Archer at that explanation. "It's not like that at all. A superhero isn't just a hero with powers...there are some rotten heroes out there, you know."

He slows a little, turning to give David a piercing stare, more sour than ever. "Do you really think those traits are something to be admired? Putting your own life at risk time and time again to help others? That's truly a sign of a broken person, you know."

"Rotten ... yeah. I know da type." David's voice has a little bit of a grumble to it. If this guy is referring to what David thinks he's referring to, well—it's always disheartening to see a hero fall into villainy, for whatever reason.

The look Archer's giving him doesn't seem to have deterred David, though. He's slowed down to match Archer's change in pace, but his tone doesn't sound intimidated. He's still as conversational and assertive as he was before.

"Anyway—'course I do. A lotta people do! You ever been to Paragon City? You can't go anywhere in dat town without seein' statues of da greats. An' a lot of dem went out savin' a lotta people when dey did."

His gaze refocuses on Archer, as if to indicate him with what he says next.

"An' what about you? You saved my butt out dere. You coulda froze yours off tryin'. An' you said you're a protector type."

Archer, in turn, doesn't seem the slightest bit deterred by David's confident demeanor. If anything, he seems encouraged to further hostility by it.

A bitter smile spreads across his face. "I've never been to any such place as this Paragon City. It sounds like a nightmare if it's full of statues of superheroes, martyred and otherwise. The humanity of the world you speak of must be built on shifting sands, if 'those who save people' are its greatest idols."

But he's conspicuously not answering that last question. It takes him until the end of that rant to even glancingly address it. "...it's because of what I am that I know where the path of the hero leads."

At Archer's reaction to hearing about Paragon City, David's cigar almost falls out of his mouth as he gapes in shock. He almost sounds like he wants to interject, but he holds off until after Archer's done speaking.

"You—you don't know about Paragon City? Seriously, you don't know? It's da biggest city in America!" This guy's opinion of a public that venerates superheroes is actually the more worrisome statement, but David can't help but blurt that out in his shock. This is on the level of someone not knowing about London, or Paris, or Berlin! If this man is from a dimension that—by David's guess—is roughly around the same point in time as Primal Earth .... just how different is it if there's no Paragon City?!

He's going to need a moment to get over that before he can process what Archer said about the path of a hero.

Archer lifts his brows and regards David with some amusement. "Wow, is it really such an impressive city? It didn't sound like much to me. Honestly, it sounded kind of disappointing, if it's all about superheroes."

He's really needling David now.

"Anyway, in my world, the biggest city in America is New York City. There's no such place as Paragon City. Accept it."

"An' you were also sayin' it sounded like a nightmare," David grumbles before heaving a sigh out his nose. "So where you're from dere's still New York City, but no Paragon City ... jeez, I don't think I've ever been to a dimension like dat."

And then it hits him, what the man was saying just earlier.

"What is dis thing you were sayin' about what a hero's path is?"

He gives a little shrug. "A disappointing nightmare, then. Those can exist, you know." He looks about ready to walk away, but...

David has to go and bring that up.

The bitter grin tugs at his mouth again. "I was saying I know it. It has been my path as well, so I know there is no reward and no wisdom to be found at the end of it. It's a road trod by fools, and you'd do best to forsake it. Do you understand?"

Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?

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