RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Hero Revolution [A new beginning] #0

Spinning around in my chair, I take in the underground center that is my new lab. The technology is more advanced than anything at TriVex's disposal.

"Geez, I wish I knew how to work this stuff..." I mutter under my breath, stopping my spinning and pull up to a nearby workstation. As I focus my attention on a scanning device and it's accompanying monitor, I see a movement out of the corner of my eye.

"What the...?!" I yell, scooting back in my chair, realizing only too late that my chair doesn't have wheels. I tumble backward onto the floor, knocking my head against the hard tiled floor.

As I close my eyes and wince in pain, I hear a bizarre voice rining out above me.

//Dr. Walker? Is that you?//

"Wha...?" I mutter out, blinking my eyes as a blinding light greets me. "What's with the lights? Geez, what the hell...?"

//Ah, forgive me, Dr. Walker...//

The light subsides as I slowly begin to make out a shape. After a few seconds, the figure before me became quite clear. A small metallic sphere, with two small blue eyes protruding from it's surface. It hung in the air - flying, hovering... I'm not sure what.

"Wha...?" I murmur out. "What the hell are you?"

//Ah, forgive me, Dr. Walker!// the sphere seemed to say. //My name is I.G.O.R. and I am your laboratory assistant.//

"Heh," I mumble, rising to my feet, rubbing my head. "I.G.O.R. ... lab assistant. Funny..."

//Excuse me, sir, but I fail to see the humor in that.//

"Y'know..." I begin. "Frankenstein...?" The sphere continued to hover inches from my face, not making any movement to show that it comprehended. "Never mind," I said, lifting my chair from the ground and taking a seat.

//Once again, I am I.G.O.R. - the Interactive Genetic Organization Regulator. My primary objective is to aid and assist you in whatever you may need in your assignment.//

"You know about my assignment?" I ask, placing my fingers on my forehead.

//Of course, Dr. Walker. Your primary objective is to capture and assemble a metahuman team to greater enhance your own research and your ability to capture even more metahumans.//

"Wow..." I say, blowing out a low whistle. "Is there anything you don't know?"

//Uncertain, Dr. Walker. I currently have access to all files at the disposal of both the MCCA and TriVex. I suppose you could say that everything I know is known by them as well.//

“Fair enough,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “Now… how do we get started?”

//I am glad you asked, Dr. Walker.// I.G.O.R. said, floating into a sort of hook-up or adapter in a nearby bulkhead. Instantly, all the computer monitors in the room lit up, an image of a faceless head on the screen.

“Whoa…” I say, standing back as everything seems now to hum with life. “What’s with the face, I.G.O.R.?”

//This is my digital self// the image on the screen said. //It is the image I take to more easily assist you in finding files, research, and metahumans.//

“Whoa, whoa… hold on there, pal,” I interject, rising from my seat and leaning on my desk, looking at I.G.O.R.’s image on a nearby monitor. “Find… metahumans?”

//Correct.// came I.G.O.R.’s reply.

“We have the technology to actually TRACK and FIND metahumans?” I say, utterly in disbelief.

//Yes. But do not worry, Dr. Walker, the official word by the MCCA is that metahumans are a threat to our civilization and must be kept a close eye on at all times. It is highly --//

“That being the case,” I start up my argument, putting my hands behind my back, beginning to pace the room, “why would the MCCA, known metahuman oppressors and haters, take on a metahuman to lead their retrieval operation? Could it be that the all-knowing MCCA didn’t know whom they were hiring?”

//No.//

I freeze, not knowing what to say next. After a moment of awkward silence, I speak: “What do you mean?”

//The MCCA knew very well whom they were hiring. Your form was scanned and approved positive for early stages of the metagene on July 18, 1998.//

“NINETY-EIGHT?!” I scream, slamming my fist on my desk. “Y-you knew?”

//It was my business to know…//

“Who else has this kind of technology?” I ask, trying desperately to regain my composure.

//Only ourselves, the Joint Chiefs, NASA, and the United States president.// I.G.O.R. replies, the voice on the screen sounding much more tinny and lifeless than it had before.

“Alright, I.G.O.R., here’s the deal,” I command, falling back into my chair. “Run a scan of all metahumans in the Chicago metropolitan area, specifically those with a rap sheet. I want known cat burglars, mercenaries, bounty hunters, and fugitives. The more notorious, the better…”

//Search complete, Dr. Walker,// the computer screen said, the face vanishing to reveal a long list of names and current location.

“Alright…” I say, a large smile spreading across my face. “Now what?"