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

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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.

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And a hand closes around David's. "You're truly an idiot." The voice that accompanies it is faint, whisked off into the wind and the clouds. "Climb. I can't pull you back up if you don't contribute. You might've noticed, but powers don't work here."

Archer's expression is utterly unimpressed as he crouches and does his best to pull poor David back up onto the tower.

David doesn't register the other man's voice at first—it's the sensation of someone grabbing a hand and trying to pull him back up that grabs his attention. He glances up to see who it is that's come to help him ... how is that guy handling the lack of environment up here in street clothes like that?! Not like David could ask if he wanted to, though; it's starting to really suck being exposed to the atmosphere this high up.

He'd probably lose his cigar to the wind the moment he tried to talk, anyway.

—but this guy's telling him to climb—or at least that's what it sounded like he was saying, so David puts effort into doing so while he's still conscious. With a grunt, he tries to push up off of the ledge of the tower using his other hand ... which is a lot harder to do when the armor isn't pulling its own weight on this. David's feet can't find any convenient footholds in the tower's surface, so he just tries pushing his boots against the wall to get some kind of footing.

How is that guy handling the lack of environment up here in street clothes like that? The answer is simple enough: not very well. Archer saw someone in distress, and before he knew it, he'd gone over to help the guy.

But he's never stepped off the stairs on this floor before, and he didn't realize it would take away his powers. So he's a little ashen as he reaches for David's other hand. No, he refuses to show just how faint he's starting to feel.

Archer hauls hard on the other man. Fortunately, even without his superstrength, he's strong. But it's still quite the task, especially when he can barely breathe.

With this other man pulling up on both his hands now, David kicks at the wall to try and get some leverage. It works—a little, but enough that their combined effort is enough to get him back up onto the tower floor.

David flops to the ground like a fish with a pained grunt once he's pulled all the way over, but this worsening hypoxia won't keep him from struggling to get back up on his feet. Ever so defiant, Blasters are—if he can just get back to the stairwell and off this floor the suit should start working normally again ... and then he's going to have a headache and a lot of angry words to say.

Someone sits near him with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Enoch took it upon himself to help newcomers where he could - after all, this place was dangerous, and while there were many people who would do the same, he was used to taking things upon himself more often than not.

"You'll only have to eat it once."

—Maybe it was the Coming Storm after all? That wasn't going to happen for a while, wasn't it? ... No, Mender Silos said the destruction of Galaxy City was the start of it, but it wasn't turning out like they'd foreseen. That Shivan invasion was supposed to hit Atlas Park—

—Eh?

David looks up at the newcomer to the table after he speaks, a little surprised at first because he was so deep in his own thoughts.

"Oh, heyas—didn't see ya dere," David says with a little awkwardness, before regarding his bowl of oatmeal now that he's been reminded of it. "Wouldn't be so bad if dey let us use cinnamon or somethin'. Dis stuff's like eatin' library paste."

Not that David would know anything about that.

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)

Enoch doesn't seem fazed in the slightest by the awkwardness, simply smiling a little, strained as it would be considering they're talking tower matters, but polite.

"I'm not certain we could in the first place. We haven't been told this, but it must adjust our stomachs so we could eat other things here in the first place. If you try to eat anything else before it, I've heard it only makes you ill."

David glances at the bowl of soup for a moment while the other guy responds, frowning in thought.

"I don't get dat. Why we'd get sick at all. It ain't like dey're servin' us stuff from some bizarre alien planet, yanno? It's all human food. I mean, okay, all da flowery stuff on da menu's kinda weird, but I guess it must be some bistro thing ... dose places always got a silly 'artisan' bent," David adds as he makes a dismissive wave of his hand. Lavender in almost everything doesn't seem so bad when one has encountered a store selling blueberry-flavored coffee.

He pauses for a moment, before looking up at the other man. "You, uh, must got your ear to da ground when it comes to dis place, yeah? Do you—" David's voice falters. Even after he'd come to understand just how many crises threatened Primal Earth from day to day, it's still hard for him to accept what that letter said. "Is everybody here some kinda refugee from a destroyed world? An' ... Does anybody got an idea how it's happenin'?"

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.

Xue had just come back from having a nice long swim throughout her favorite floors. Needless to say, the trolless was pretty tired and was making her way back to the dormitories for a well needed sleep. She was in the middle of drying her long, white hair as she walked through the last hallway before the dorms when she heard the warning and quirked an eyebrow before noticing somone barreling towards her.

Of course being a extremely agile rogue made it easy for her to get out of the way, but having to was a bit annoying when she was tired. Stepping aside, she frowned before placing a hand on her hips.

"Oy'! No runnin' down dem halls mon! People tryin' ta be walkin' 'ere!"

It's a good thing she had the reflexes to dodge that—at the speed he's going he might've clipped her, even with . She's the first one to actually yell a response back, though, and that gets David to slam on the brakes once he's flown past. He spins about, slowing to a stop a dozen feet away, keeping his balance in the air using his boot-mounted thrusters.

With all indignation of a Rhode Islander, David yells back, "Yea, an' some of us got billions of lives to save!"

After shouting that, he then realizes that her accent sounds familiar—Jamaican, to his ears. Maybe she's a Mutant-origin heroine from Primal Earth ... or an alternate dimension like it?

Lives to save? This guy is definitely new if he still believed in that, let alone in this place...

"I be tinkin' ya got da wrong idea mon. Der be no lives left ta save, nawt 'ere anyways. Unless ya be countin' da rest of da inhabitants of da towah. Dey always be in need a' savin' if dey be fallin' inta da 'ands of monstahs."

"Baloney!" David's indignation has not waned. Though he may sound a little desperate, there. "Dere's ways. I just—gotta get outta here, wherever dis is, try an' get to Ouroboros—"

—wait, what. What did she say about monsters? David's brain is lagging behind his mouth.

"What, somethin's tryin' to tear down dis place, too?"

Xue'kol shrugged, "Believe wat ya be wantin' mon. I ain't 'ere ta convince ya, jus' educate ya. First, der be no place outta da Towah, many 'ave been tryin fer unknown years now. An' two, whatevah ya knew back in wherevah ya be comin' from ya can start throwin' it outta da window. Dis place, it ain't rite mon."

With that, she turned to face him, now getting a good look at him and raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Yeah? Try me," David says, punctuating it by blowing a sigh out of his nostrils. "Look—you're Jamaican, right? Mutant origin? I'm from Paragon City. Ain't a day dat goes by dat somethin' ain't right goin' down somewhere. Gonna take a lot outta dis place to get me shook up."

He's still floating idly in the air, the thrusters keeping him aloft and almost motionless, though now he's doing it while putting his fists on his hips. That sort of pose that's a standard for all superpowered types.

"Jamaican? No mon, I be Azerothian if dat be wat joo askin'. An' joo bettah believe dat dis place will be givin' ya more'n joo bargain for. Please tell me dat ya ain't gonna be like most rookies who underestimate da Towah tinkin' dey be seein' it all an' den end up bein' ripped apart an' brought back again just ta have it happen again."

Azerothian? So she isn't from Primal Earth at all? ... Well, it was kind of silly for him to assume that anyway. If he was handling missions in other dimensions for Portal Corp, why should this tower be present somewhere on his Earth? He doesn't (yet) know how tall this tower really is, but surely he would have heard something about a place like this back in Primal Earth if it existed there. Towers aren't the wisest choice for a secret facility.

"So den tell me, what kinda crap goes on here?" The talk she just gave him actually reminded him a lot of his early days as a superhero, the way other superheroes would regard him. "Dey save people, stick 'em in a tower fulla monsters, an' den ... what?"

"If I were ta be tellin' ya wat be goin' on 'ere. Nawt only would I be takin' all week an' den sum mon, but joo'd jus' be tinkin' I be hittin' da hookah too 'ard." Which was true, considering the crazy shit that happened in this place.

"Den? Den we be der toys mon. Guinea pigs fer der experiments. Dey keep us alive, even if we be dyin' in said experiments or from accidents in da towah, or being killed by da monstah's an oda residents at times. Dey bring us back an' we keep goin' as if da death meant nottin'"

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."

David doesn't interject when this ... Azerothian? ... Declines to give details on what kind of nasty business happens within the Tower. He's still skeptical that the Tower could possibly be so beyond reason that he wouldn't accept the facts being told straight up, but ... the more he listens to what the woman is saying, the more angry he appears. To the point of gritting his teeth on that cigar in his mouth.

"What—ya mean dat letter I got was just a lie?" The timbre in his voice doesn't come from surprise at the prospect of deception on part of his "saviors" as much as it is the audacity they have in telling people they've been rescued, only to make them glorified lab rats.

"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."

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

B

YES! :'D

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C

:D!

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A

AW YEAH, MMO BROS

YUS! \o/

Opera ate parts of my previous tag, I just noticed. Whoops. D:

Opera's hungry!

Bad Opera, no biscuit!

XD Don't tease it! Next time it'll eat everything!

It IS a glutton for memory. D8

So I heard XD

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