{RoundRobin-ish} And Justice, For Real

[Foxboy]

((I thought I'd get some common ground for the SI group started, so we all agree on SOME of the events that led to us being in Paragon.))
It all started with Some Random Con in New York City.
After much discussion and planning, several of the players from the City of Heroes global channel, The Legendary, decided to set up a face-to-face meeting. Surrounded by writers, fans, actors and various sundry sci-fi types, the channel mates met in the lobby of one of the hotels connected to the convention center.
After introductions were passed around, they got down to a typical gabfest when a hole in reality opened before them. Well... more accurately below them. Newtonian Laws of Motion being what they were, the gathered throng of gamers began to accelerate at 32 feet per second per second into the portal. Several shouts of dismay and startlement rang out, then one-by one, they blacked out...
... and woke up in a hospital. A strange hospital to be sure. What's that structure of rings over in the corner? It kind of looks like... no it couldn't be a medical teleporter like in-game, could it? A few seconds of disorientation pass, and an official-looking person with a clipboard is standing by the privacy curtains in each ward. As if reading from a script, or a prepared speech, each of them begins....
"Welcome to Paragon City! Would you mind answering a few questions?"
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

[Rev Dark]

My SI toon (Excalibastard) just hit 10 - so I will create the SG when I get home tonight.
Fiction ideas to follow.
Shayne

[Rev Dark]

The official with the clipboard had several questions to ask. I ignored him and searched around the medical center. The faces were all familiar; I caught my lovely wifes eyes. Well, I met them. They had not actually squirted across the room like a pair of ping-pong balls. Though given the strange circumstances, I would not entirely discount the possibility. I slid the bars of the medical teleportation device out of the way and tried to cross the room to her. The official with the clipboard intercepted me and pressed me with further questions. His manner was far more bellicose than was prudent at the time. I asked him to clear the path. Far more politely than I normally would given the circumstances, though this may be considered a lie as I had not really encountered anything even remotely resembling these circumstances before. He persisted. We reached an agreement.
I asked him a question.
The question was as follows. Do you want the large man to remove his hand from your face or do you wish him to continue to move forward, accelerating you into the ground where you will smash against the easily cleaned tiles like a watermelon tossed carelessly from a ninth story window.
I didnt actually have to ask the question. As a very wise, very scary, jiu-jitsu master once opined - If you have them by the face, their hearts and minds soon follow. I had possession of his heart and his mind. I also had his face grasped in my left hand and had bent him back, breaking his balance. The clipboard made some flailing motions against my face. I ignored them. That was something different. There is a difference between being hurt and being injured. If you are injured, seek medical help. If you are hurt, suck it up. The metal clip and edge of the clipboard should have been sufficient to cause injury, but the impacts seemed small and distant. This seemed to be a good moment for quiet reflection. The arm and hand that gripped laughing boy by the face were mine, but there were some differences. The proportions seemed slightly wrong. The muscles were larger, the knuckles blockier. The rest of my body agreed with my assessment that something was not necessarily rotten in the state of Denmark, but it was very, very, different. Hamlet had finished with his emo phase and had started dressing like Carmen Miranda while singing a few John Denver songs. I had a little more bulk, a little less fat, and bigger muscles and unlike Hamlet, did not have fruit on my hat or sunshine on my shoulders.
I righted the man with the clipboard.
Ill answer your questions as best as I can. I said. On the condition that you first do me the courtesy of answering mine. What the fuck just happened?
* * *
There are few things that cannot be endured if one has sufficient black coffee. If William Wallace had a flagon of the stuff while being drawn and quartered, everything would have been all right; although it is likely that Edward the Whoopsie would have added cream and sugar. A cup was out at the time. I had the pot. I took a large mouthful, swished it around my teeth and gums and then swallowed with satisfaction. The black blood of creativity was hot enough to scald, but I was only remotely aware of the heat. Things had changed.
The man with the clipboard had been replaced. In lieu of the man with the clipboard we had another man, also with a clipboard; but, and this is an important but, it was a different man, a different clipboard, and if Alice and the White Rabbit skipped by with signs that said Eat Me I would not be surprised. Well not very surprised. The man with the clipboard, identified by a nametag as Doctor Fitchenhertz, was older, with a distinguished head of grey hair, small, square spectacles and the demeanor of calm, rational academia. He apologized profusely between descriptions of Portal Physics, Multidimensional Transfer Rates, and something he described as consciousness splicing. I was able to keep up with the consciousness splicing part of it and the apologies.
Let me get this straight. My lovely wife asked. You opened a portal between your world and ours and accidentally sucked us in. Good so far?
The good doctor Fits and Spurts nodded. I drank more coffee.
When you realized that you manifested the portal in the presence of people, you tried to close it down and reverse the effect. Cindy continued. But while you were successful in doing so, you imprinted us on this universe.
Were Schrdingers cads? Someone opined; following it with a burst of slightly cold, nervous, laughter.
Essentially yes. While caught in the flux you existed simultaneously in a positive stage in regards to both worlds. The good doctor repeated. Our observation of that state; the process of closing the portal, caused simultaneous physical manifestation of that state.
So back in our New York. Cindy said with a slight catch in her voice. Were all standing around wondering what just happened?
Exactly. But sending you back has the potential to cause us to simultaneously exist in the same state in the same multidimensional reality, which has the potential to cause issues. The Doctor said with a gentle, sincere tone.
Explosive issues. I added darkly. The physical constants of our universes are not precisely aligned, so the duplication of matter of different physical constants could cause a serious shift at the quantum level.
Potentially cracking your world and this one like an egg. Doctor Fichenhertz concluded. So you are stuck here I am afraid, at least until I can figure out a physical transfer that duplicates our original mistakeerr misapplication of portal technology.
There are times for honesty. There are times for brutal honesty. There are times when the clearest thing to say is also the cruelest. So we may never see our friends and family again. I spoke carefully around a swiftly growing lump in my throat. But they dont miss us, because we are still there; because we never really left.
Cindy started crying. I might have leaked a tear as well, but I held her and tried to ignore my own swirling emotions.
It might not be all bad. Doctor Fichenhertz said with a forced cheer. The dimensional energies you were all subjected to in the process of simultaneous existence has likely made some fundamental changes to your physiologies. The initial readings we took when you manifested were in the upper percentile of the Cole Scale.
You mean? Cindy asked.
Superpowers.
* * *

[Ankhani]

//
I figure I might work up a character for this bunch, if there's still time for additions. Could just muddle a little with temporal mechanics here(since the Laws of Physics are already beaten, bloodied and bruised), and have some that were swallowed by such portal appear in Paragon at different times. 'Multidimensional Transfer Rates' as you said.
//
The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself."
-Analects Book V, Chaper XXVI
---

The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself."

>Analects: Book V, Chaper XXVI

[Evil Midnight Lurker]

"...Rikered. You frickin' Rikerized us."
Becky doesn't even know I'm gone. Because I'm not.
I clench my fists so hard they catch on fire.
That's new.
City of Heroes? Try Changeling: the Lost. Snatched away. Changed into something else. With someone occupying your old life if you ever get back home.
A stiff wind begins to arise inside the medical center.
--Sam
"His therapist advocates the primal scream."

[Rev Dark]

The SG Is up.
SI Six - Transdimensional Guardians
Look for H L W and Excalibastard for invites
Shayne

[Norgarth]

interesting. I really need to get into COX, of course that first requires I get around to getting myself a new computer instead of using my housemate's. *sigh*
anyways, I did spot a typo in Rev's post:
Were Schrdingers cads? __________________
"I'll be more enthusiastic about encouraging thinking outside the box when there's evidence of any thinking going on inside it." - Terry Pratchett
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

[Bob Schroeck]

Dunno if I'll actually get a chance to play much, but I've whipped up the Rikerized version of myself for this, who I left at the beginning of Outbreak at the moment. Look for "R M S", a dark/energy defender.

-- Bob
---------
I intend to be a freak for the rest of my life, and I shall baffle you with cabbages and rhinoceroses in the kitchen and incessant quotations from Now We Are Six through the mouthpiece of Lord Snooty's giant poisoned electric head. So theeeeeere....

[Rev Dark]

No. It is cads - a particularly loathsome pun for which I have no intention of apologizing.

[Acyl]

"You have got to be kidding."
That was my voice. I could hear myself saying it. I suppose it had to be me saying it. My mouth was moving, the words were coming out from my throat. But my mind was a million miles away. No, more than that...a whole universe away, if the guy in the doctor's coat was serious.
Yeah, right.
My voice...was level. The words weren't exactly brilliant, but they were calm, and perfectly pronounced.
Across from me, the doctor blanched. He actually looked pale. The man backed away a step, almost bumping into the wall of the interview room.
For some reason, they'd been all nervous when I woke up. There were other people I recognized from the supergroup meet-up outside in the big room, but they'd made a point of taking me aside, separating me from the rest. They seemed vaguely worried about me...
Funny, that. I've never been a particularly threatening individual. I'm told my face, when at complete neutral rest, looks quite disdainful...so I look arrogant or disinterested if I'm not careful. Sure. I'm used to that. I'm also used to looking like a complete clown when I do smile. But one way or another, my face isn't exactly a terrifying thing. People aren't supposed to be scared of me.
This guy was.
Weird.
"So," I continued, "this is a joke, right? One of those...Candid Camera things. I'm really supposed to believe I've like...fallen through the rabbit hole? Right. Look, Doctor..."
I squinted at his name tag.
"...Miller, if that's your real name...assuming you ARE a doctor...why don't you tell the camera crew to just come out? Sorry, man, but I don't...it's not funny, you know?"
Dr. Miller coughed.
"Um," he began, "disbelief and denial is, a common reaction among displacees, but I assure you...you are in a different world. I can explain the Physics involved, but..."
"Er, no," I replied, flatly, "give me some proof."
"Well," Dr. Miller said, "there's your manifestation of a Cole Index ability..."
I twitched. "Of what?"
"Uh, a superpower," Dr. Miller hurriedly corrected, "we understand from your fellow displacees that your home universe doesn't have individuals with verifiable metahuman powers, at least as we understand it here."
"Sorry, doctor," I replied, "I don't feel super. I got more energy, maybe...but I blame that on whatever drugs you guys knocked me out with when you decided to play this stupid joke. Try again?"
"Actually," Dr. Miller said, carefully, "I was referring to your ability to manifest matter or at least a psuedo-material construct from no clear..."
I leaned forward, almost coming out of the chair. "WHAT are you---"
Dr. Miller made a wordless yelped, dropping the papers in his hands, and tried to take cover behind a lampshade. The light fixture was rather ill-suited to the task.
I just blinked. Was he trying to hide from me?
From behind his rather inadequate obstruction, Dr. Miller squeaked, "Could you NOT point that at ME?!"
"Point what at..."
Confused, I lifted a hand to scratch my head. It stopped, halfway.
I looked down.
Resting in my grasp was a very familiar shape, all black metal and plastic. Four years since I'd last handled one...but it's not the sort of thing you forget, after bearing it through a whole lot of sweat.
In a trance, I lifted it. Keeping it aloft with one hand, I moved the other. Two fingers looped round the t-shaped end of the charging lever - hauling it back until the dust cover flipped open, until I felt the click. Then my hand returned to the smooth plastic of the guard, while the other tightened round the grip. It settled nicely into the crook of my arms, as I turned, sighted, held my breath...
...and planted a round into the wall.
My ears rung with the echoing sound of the shot.
Dreamlike, I turned my head, watching the brass cartridge eject from the chamber, flying to my left. It hit the carpet, bounced...
...and vanished.
I lifted my gaze, looking back at the wall. The hole was still there.
I held the M16 parade-style, staring at it dumbly. There wasn't any smell of propellant, I noted, absently. The side of my chest, near the shoulder, did ache faintly with the kick of recoil - but nowhere near as much as I remembered from way back in Basic Military Training, nowhere near as much as it should.
I grinned.
"Cool."
Dr. Miller whimpered.
* * *
-- Acyl

[His Lovely Wife]

I sat curled up on comfy chair in the base. Theyd been nice enough to give us that. At least it was a place to live, for now. I had discovered that a place where furniture could be teleported in had no need for stores like Ikea. Which was too bad because something as normal as Ikea would have been appreciated right now. Putting together a bookcase would have been a nice distraction from our other problems. A small tear ran down my cheek and I quickly brushed it away. Shayne never liked to see me cry, especially if he couldnt do anything about fixing whatever was making me cry. This was one of those situations. I took a deep breath and thanked the deities for one thing, and that was that Shayne and I shared this hobby. If I had been here alone .. well, I would have managed, but it would have been worse, for me anyway.
I stretched out and picked my bow off of the floor. I didnt remember the name of the maker, but they had been able to duplicate my real life bow and belt quiver. With a twist. The quiver always had arrows, it was built with a small dimensional portal of some sorts and every now and then Id get a new kind of arrow. Some were ordinary, others werent. I had shot one earlier this morning that spread glue all over the place.
Standing up I smoothed out my kilt. Go figure that Id be transported to another dimension and end up wearing my high school uniform. At least I was used to wearing it, though it had been a while. I guess when we transferred over whatever we were comfortable in was what we showed up in. I looked down at the tights I was wearing. Then again, maybe not. I gave a deep sigh and watched as several others came into the room from exploring the base.
Shayne came over to stand next to me and I cuddled up to him for comfort. We needed something to do to keep us all occupied and not thinking about our circumstances. Well, since were here I took a deep breath, Is anyone up for a mission or two?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All that to say that we have the beginnings of a base. At some point we'll Coalition with Little Legends and be able to use their limited teleporters. Ta Ta -Cindy

[Foxboy]

It isn't difficult to keep a smile on your face when you're being interrogated by a cheerful young lady. And I could tell she was honestly that way. Not a trace of the "Pan-Am smile." So I answered her questions lightly but truthfully. Who knows, once I got settled down somewhere I could look her up?
Things went smoothly until she got to the next section of her questionnaire:
"Well, Logan, your Cole Index indicates some sort of thaumic particle production, so I have to ask some questions according to guidelines set by MAGI..."
"Go ahead, Susan," I said.
She rattled off several fairly benign questions about magickal traditions, culminating in, "Are you a god?"
Well, being one to learn from other's mistakes, I took Doctor Venkman's advice to Doctor Stantz. "Yes?"
She took me seriously, and now I have a few pantheistic Rent-a-worshippers supplied by the city. Let me just say, the fact that their ceremonies gives me a boost gives me the wiggins. Almost as much as being able to telekinetically poke bad guys in the frontal lobes.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

[Morganite]

"Well," I observed. "This would explain why my hair is now capable of moving on it's own."
As if sensing that I wanted to take a closer look at it, my hair grew a foot longer and and slid around over my right shoulder.
This was going to take some getting used to. Though, for some reason, it also seemed familiar...
-Morgan."Mikuru-chan molested me! I'm... so happy!"
-Haruhi, "The Ecchi of Haruhi Suzumiya"
---(Not really)

[Kokuten]

Participating in a Legendary meet via teleprescence was one of my better ideas.
When the wearable rig, kindly carried by Da Boss himself (yes, I know, Bob would rather I not call him that, but sue me.. ) pitches forward and falls face first into a dark purple swirling wormhole, and everything goes white..
Not a good idea.
I woke up in an Institutional White room, rings spooling up around my body. a quick WWST check (watch, wallet, etc.. ) revealed that I was all in one piece, and the piece had changed quite a bit. Potbelly gone, hairline back in it's teenage place, hat actually fit, vest on and leather, with buckles and zippers everywhere.
Smokes gone. no lighter.
Apparatus strapped to inside of right wrist, dark green capsules in some sort of holder.
The rings pulled into the ceiling, and I took a step forward, then rebounded. Looking down, I see the vest caught on some sort of medical protrusion.
I freed myself and stepped into chaos. A harried intern-type with a clipboard and a.. red.. palmprint.. on his face stood nervously in front of me.
"Hi please don't hurt me can you state your name please?"
I inhaled. I clenched my teeth together, snugged my hat down on my head, and delivered Scary Look 7 (Moderate), my jaw squared and face jutted slightly forward. Dad said that one always reminded him of a bulldozer, and that seemed appropriate.
"Nick. You can call me Nicholas. Where am I?"
"You're in Paragon City please don't hurt me there's been an error in the portal experiments please don't hurt me."
My mind caught up to 'Paragon City', cross-referenced it with 'portal' and 'freaky purple wormhole thing', and submitted a reality check, which bounced.
So I partook of the course suggested by my forebrain, and fell face forward in a dead faint.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

[crimsonsun]

I listened to the tech (or was it a nurse? Probably pretty close in this world..) explain something, but I didn't much up much other than thamatology and pyronetic. I held up my hand and stopped him.
"So, briefly, you're saying I can produce magic fire? And it doens't cause any permanent injury?"
"Y-yes. Thats what your Cole Scale testing shows."
I grinned. "Say that again."
"Y-your Cole testing shows that you now have the ability to produce non-lethal pyrokinetic effects." He said, seeming a little bit more confident.
"How do I do it?"
"I'm not quite s-sure. Most people say they just have to think about it. Its some form of mental-physiological trigger that allows the body" he began to babble off, obviously now in his element, and ignoring any of his previous nervousness.
I held up my hand and looked at it, feeling something different inside me wanting to come out. A small flame floated above my hand. I grinned madly.
"Oh... THIS is going to be fun! You said there were others here too?"

[The Hunterminator]

After a while, I was finally allowed outside of the hospital but I had barely walked out that I rushed back inside.
At least now, I knew what the nurse meant when he spoke of a "psychic dampening field" in the hospital. Suddenly being exposed to an entire metropolis of conflicting thoughts made any head pain anyone has ever felt feel like the most benign of headaches.
I'm pretty sure that's the point at which I started thinking that spending my whole life considering my mind my greatest asset might not have been a good idea.
Resigned to my fate, I sat down in the hospital's waiting room and opened the "Psychic/Forcefield Controlling for Dummies" book I had been given.
(OOC: Um... I have a little question. What server is this in?)

[Kokuten]

((Justice))Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

[Sweno]

I knew I was in shock of some sort. Normally the idea of being transported into a different reality would warrant a significantly larger response than a blank stare.
The technician sitting across the table from me stopped talking and had an expectant look on his face. All I could manage at the moment was a puzzled "huh?"
He sighed and put a pamphlet in front of me on the table. Some more words were spoken, I think they contained 'read', 'questions', and 'please' several times.
I just nodded dumbly and continued to focus on the one object that had consumed so much of my attention since our unexpected arrival.
Sword.
My sword.
That I couldn't put down.
Not that I wanted to. It felt Right to hold it. Right in ways I couldn't fit into words.
The technician had used plenty of words. Words like 'Spontaneous', 'Bonded', and 'pseudo-material construct from unconscious mental projection'.
I didn't need words, and neither did the sword. It whispered in my head with feelings and half-thoughts of safety and protection.
---
I'm made sure to apologize to the technician a few hours later, when I could string a compete sentence together without stopping half way to stare at the sword. He said it was ok, that shock was understandable at times like this.
He made sure to stress, once again, that I should make sure and THINK about what I do. I'm apparently not the first person to have some part of their subconscious manifest in the physical world. Having my Id present itself a green glowing sword just further cemented something I had known all along: I had issues.-Terry
------
"Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." - Antoine de Saint Exupery
The problem with America is stupidity. I'm not saying there should be a capital punishment for stupidity, but why don't we just take the safety labels off of everything and let the problem solve itself?
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy

[Drenivian]

I didn't really feel different, but the lady nurse was adamant about taking all sorts of baseline readings and it was getting on my nerves. "Listen lady, since I've been here I've been poked, prodded, been vamped twice, and no one has answered any of my questions! Now, I'm not subjecting myself to any of your tests until someone can get off their rear and answer a few questions!" What can I say, I have a small temper. The nurse just recoiled a bit before scampering off. Everything up until the nice nurse had begun the "torture session" with the Penlight of Doom was still a blurr. "Mr. Dunkel," I gave the new arrival a long look. Suit, Tie, graying hair. The staff has asked that I give you a rundown on what happened to you. Come on, I don't have all day." Rich, he had to be. Kinda stuck-up too. "Look, do I even get a name to go with the suit? It is polite considering you know mine." The suit stopped in mid-step. "My name is Justin Sinclair, and we're behind schedule the way it is." I gave him a Vulcan eyebrow and shrugged, following him. Its not like i had anything better to do, and it had been a weird day.
Mr. Sinclair and I had ended up at an indoor practice range. "Ok, color me stupid, but why are we here?" Mr. Sinclair turned from the wall he was facing with a longbow and quiver. "During one of your, 'fits of anger', as the Hospital Staff called them, you were able to manifest a bow. Try." "Look if i even had that ability what would make you think that I coul... what the hell are you staring at?" Mr. Sinclair was smirking as I followed his gaze. Yes I was holding a bow. Nice compound one too. "Now, we test your accuracy." As the day was just going so splendedly, I went with the flow, these new feelings just taking hold as I drew the bow back, and letting the newly appeared arrow sit for a moment before launching it down range. By the time our little session was done, i had an inkling of what was going on, keys to an apartment near everyone else, a class H Hero license, and a really odd feeling that I should know this Sinclair guy. Meh, I'll figure it out later. That untouched bed is calling.IF SRW means Sexy Romance Weapon, does DW mean Dynamic Woman?
*********************
In the epic rage of furious thunder
legends create their tales
when the twilight calls and the dark lord falls
our glory will prevail

[Morganite]

A bit of a meta-level question.
So these are SI characters. But how much should their abilities be based on things about us? Acyl's M16 at least suggests "some"... Mostly I'm wondering if it's reasonable for my character to realize she's got a similar set of abilities to her "ficticious sister". '.'
-Morgan."Mikuru-chan molested me! I'm... so happy!"
-Haruhi, "The Ecchi of Haruhi Suzumiya"
---(Not really)

[Rev Dark]

That is up to you.
Some of us have chosen personally resonant sets - whether based on their own skills - martial or otherwise - or a particular personality quirk - like pyromania.
Shayne

[Evil Midnight Lurker]

And as a chef, I've given myself fire control/storm summoning: all the powers and abilities of... a convection oven and walk-in freezer? ^.^
--Sam
"I seek... Pez!"

[crimsonsun]

---

Some of us have chosen personally resonant sets - whether based on their own skills - martial or otherwise - or a particular personality quirk - like pyromania.

---

((I was pretty much TOLD I would be a Fire/Fire blaster >

[The Hunterminator]

Well my mind tends to go all over the place and I posess the kind of bullheadedness that makes me go, "Oh, you did NOT just ORDER me to get out of the way with THAT tone. Well that's it, I'm not moving from here no matter what."
So I felt that a mind/forcefield controller would reflect that the best.

[ECSNorway]

I was in a Nanoha-ish mood when I rolled, so I picked a Kinetics/Electric Defender. Think Yuuno without the head-mounted Google server.
---
The first thought that came to mind when they got through to me that, yes, we were in fact in Paragon City, and no, we weren't going to be able to go home anytime soon, was, "Why couldn't we have ended up somewhere cool, like Zeta Cygni?".
The second thought was to offer up a brief prayer of thanks to any deity that happened to be listening that whatever had generated bodies for us here had managed to fix most of what was already wrong with mine. And to cast a sidelong look at the next seat over, where Logan was taking in the results of following Venkman's advice, and shake my head.
The third was to wonder what was the deal with the Witchblade-esque watch I seemed to be wearing.
"So, just what is that? And where did it come from?" was the question, as I examined the watch-like gimmick strapped to my arm.
"It's a thaumaturgically-powered electrokinetic transference module. And it was with you when you, er, arrived."
I paused to run the phrase through a technobabble-to-English filter, then oh'ed. "It turns magic into energy and zaps things?"
The geek paused a moment, then shrugged. "Basically. And vice-versa. Far as we can tell, it has a few basic matrixes programmed in already, including that, and one to reverse it - absorb energy and use it to heal people. There's also some data-access routines that we haven't quite identified yet."
I frowned, considered that last bit for a moment, then tapped it, and wow'ed at the result. "Cool. Virtual laptop. Not totally screwy... gimme a few minutes to play with this, would you?"--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.