Qubit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superposition) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-08-20 01:14 pm
superposition) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-08-20 01:14 pm
There's no "I" in "TEAM"
WHO: Qubit and the team
WHERE: De Chima, The Watchtower
WHEN: August 1X, 20X6, 6:30 pm
WHAT: Inaugural team meeting!
WARNINGS: seriously who allowed all these dorks in the same room at once
A few days prior, Qubit sent out notices to all members of the fledgling superteam he's managed to pull together - there'd be a meeting in De Chima, at this address, top floor, 6pm, and please be sure to shake any paparazzi before you arrive. (Yes, the entrance is in a sewer tunnel (albeit mercifully unused). That part wasn't his idea.)
The HQ, once belonging to the Justice League, was already well kitted-out when it fell into Qubit's hands. Batman must have sunk a great deal of time and money into the place (Qubit had mused, while turning the state-of-the-art computers inside-out). For the meeting, he's taking advantage of the large conference table with the holoprojector in the middle, though he deliberately positions himself along the long edge of the oval rather than at the head. Not that it matters all that much, since he's gonna spend most if not all of the meeting on his feet anyway, but it's the principle of the thing.
Once everyone's arrived, picked their spot, etc., Qubit rises, the fingertips of one hand resting on the table while the other holds the lapel of his coat.
Oddly, he finds he's actually kind of nervous about all this, although you wouldn't know it to look at him. Not about speaking to a group, of course, or even about bringing them all together for the first time... but more about... well, all this. It wasn't that long ago that the soon-to-be Paradigm had their first meet-up in Martin Reber's basement. Now, he can count on two fingers the people from that meeting who are still alive - and one's himself, and the other he hasn't seen in over a year and for all he knows could have died since.
But things are going to be different this time. Back then, there was no precedent. Nobody really knew what they were doing. This time... well, Qubit's still not a hundred percent sure he's not crazy for doing this. But it's bigger than him now, that's the important thing. And he'll do right by these people or die trying.
"Good evening, everyone, and thank you all for coming. Why don't we get started..."
[Agenda topics in top-levels below! Will add links as I post them. No posting order, feel free to threadsplit or whatever for simplicity's sake. Brackets or prose are both fine. Following the meeting will be some time for minglingand possibly refreshments.
I. Intros
II. Charter
III. Team Name
IV. Logistics & Training
V. Anything Else
VI. Mingle
WHERE: De Chima, The Watchtower
WHEN: August 1X, 20X6, 6:30 pm
WHAT: Inaugural team meeting!
WARNINGS: seriously who allowed all these dorks in the same room at once
A few days prior, Qubit sent out notices to all members of the fledgling superteam he's managed to pull together - there'd be a meeting in De Chima, at this address, top floor, 6pm, and please be sure to shake any paparazzi before you arrive. (Yes, the entrance is in a sewer tunnel (albeit mercifully unused). That part wasn't his idea.)
The HQ, once belonging to the Justice League, was already well kitted-out when it fell into Qubit's hands. Batman must have sunk a great deal of time and money into the place (Qubit had mused, while turning the state-of-the-art computers inside-out). For the meeting, he's taking advantage of the large conference table with the holoprojector in the middle, though he deliberately positions himself along the long edge of the oval rather than at the head. Not that it matters all that much, since he's gonna spend most if not all of the meeting on his feet anyway, but it's the principle of the thing.
Once everyone's arrived, picked their spot, etc., Qubit rises, the fingertips of one hand resting on the table while the other holds the lapel of his coat.
Oddly, he finds he's actually kind of nervous about all this, although you wouldn't know it to look at him. Not about speaking to a group, of course, or even about bringing them all together for the first time... but more about... well, all this. It wasn't that long ago that the soon-to-be Paradigm had their first meet-up in Martin Reber's basement. Now, he can count on two fingers the people from that meeting who are still alive - and one's himself, and the other he hasn't seen in over a year and for all he knows could have died since.
But things are going to be different this time. Back then, there was no precedent. Nobody really knew what they were doing. This time... well, Qubit's still not a hundred percent sure he's not crazy for doing this. But it's bigger than him now, that's the important thing. And he'll do right by these people or die trying.
"Good evening, everyone, and thank you all for coming. Why don't we get started..."
[Agenda topics in top-levels below! Will add links as I post them. No posting order, feel free to threadsplit or whatever for simplicity's sake. Brackets or prose are both fine. Following the meeting will be some time for mingling
I. Intros
II. Charter
III. Team Name
IV. Logistics & Training
V. Anything Else
VI. Mingle
I. Intros
Hopefully there'll actually be a volunteer. He doesn't want to put someone on the spot.
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"Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, theoretical physicist. I'm capable of remote teleportation and object manipulation. My primary function will be field support under the alias Delta."
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"My name's Newt Geiszler and I'm just here for the refreshments. I was told there'd be cookies." A cheeky grin at Qubit as Newt readjusted his glasses. "I was lied to."
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"I'm Angela Ziegler. I'm a medic and have the ability to heal and temporary boost someone's own power and strength. I can also summon my Valkyrie suit."
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"The name's Garrus. I'm the local guy-not-from-Earth, the species is turian for those who've never seen one before."
Which he's expecting to be a lot. Sigh.
"As for powers, I can turn myself into metal, and I'm a damn good shot with just about any kind of firearm you put into my hands."
He pauses again, appropriately puffing his chest for the next bit.
"And I'm devilishly handsome on top of all that. That's definitely gonna come in handy."
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"My name is Dr. Harrison Wells, founder of STAR Labs on at least one Earth. Particle and multiversal physics and metahuman research, primarily. If I keep my distance it isn't because I'm trying to be unfriendly, one of my powers is contact-based power negation. It's involuntary. I have control over the power dampening field I put off, don't worry about that, I also have enhanced hearing—yes, it's annoying—and I can alter the relative gravity of objects and people or create high- or low-gravity fields."
Usually he leads with his gravity manipulation ability, but shaking hands with him means losing whatever you can do as long as the handshake lasts, and he's meeting new people he'll be working with in the future. Might as well be upfront with that one.
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Hopefully. He has his doubts. Blame the seemingly hereditary cynicism flowing through his veins.
Harrison's gravity powers specifically intrigue Garrus, and he regards him with a quick tilt of his head.
"The field thing reminds me of a few things from back home," he begins, doing his best to prep for a mini lesson in the physics-breaking mechanics of his universe, "A somewhat recently discovered element called element zero can change the mass of just about anything depending on what kind of current you run through it. Negative decreases mass, positive increases it. Then we've got people called biotics who can control that stuff with their minds enough where they can lift and throw things. Because, you know, guns just don't cut it by themselves anymore."
Surprisingly, that last bit isn't as sarcastic as it could be. It's almost like Garrus has a respect for biotics or something. So weird.
II. Charter
"Or philosophy, or rules, or mission statement. Whatever you'd like to call it. I know I've mentioned most or all of these to you individually, but this is to make sure we're all on the same page. To define ourselves as an entity, as evinced by what we will and won't do. And I don't want this to sound like 'Qubit handing down arbitrary moral imperatives.' This is a framework that we can continue to build upon. I do want us to be united in purpose from the get-go. If we're not, we'll get nowhere."
But enough about that. On to the details.
"Number one: We don't kill, under any circumstances. It may not be the easiest course of action, but we will always find another way." He's particularly emphatic on this point, as always.
"Two: We don't represent any government, organization, or company. Our mission is to protect innocent people, regardless of where they're from or what they believe.
"Third: We don't accept payment. This isn't a for-profit group. That one might sound obvious, but it comes up more often than you'd think."
The final bullet point is a handful of question marks. "Any questions on those? Or suggestions to add?"
no subject
And besides, it was easier for him to abide not reaping the soul of someone who deserved it, than to know that this team might be doing so to those who didn't.
"Not a question, but a suggestion," he spoke up once Qubit got to the end. "For not accepting payment, I agree, but it might be an idea to set up an avenue for those who will try anyway. Some venue of charity -- transparent, of course -- that benefits an unaffiliated cause. It's fine to make it clear that we are not expecting or accepting payments for ourselves, but denying a determined someone the ability to pay back a perceived debt causes more trouble, down the road."
A pause, and then he added, "If you need specifics, I'd be happy to offer them after the meeting. It's a similar situation to what Shibusen runs into in my world, hence my familiarity with it."
no subject
"I think his suggestion is good."
no subject
"On the plus side, our expenses are fairly low at the moment. The facilities we're in now were a gift, for instance, and our tech is essentially free for as long as I'm around. But if something unexpected arises, then yes, that would very likely be coming out of our pockets. Unless any of you happen to be independently wealthy, anyway." His tone there suggests he does not expect any of them to be independently wealthy.
no subject
Angela then looks a little worried and looks around the room.
"This isn't me saying we should empty our wallets right this second. Just that personally I'm willing to put myself forward to put some together.
I think too much could and probably would go wrong without that there."
no subject
At eighteen months, it wasn't an insubstantial amount; Kid didn't do much that ate into the wages he made working at his job, so it had stockpiled. He wouldn't call himself wealthy by any means, but it was still a sizeable amount he could contribute for an emergency fund.
"I assure you, I can keep impeccable records."
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Angela had no experience in running the finances of anything other than in her own life.
"I don't have any kind of experience but I don't mind offering any help. If you feel like you need any. And if your own offer is accepted."
III. Name
For a bit of clarification, he adds, "I know when I began recruiting, I was just thinking to use 'the Paradigm,' which is the team I worked with back home, but..." He waves a hand ambivalently. "For a number of reasons, I don't think that really fits here." Not least among them is that the Paradigm is mostly dead. There's a lot of bad memories there. Mistakes that he doesn't intend to make again.
"So! Opening the floor to brainstorm. Any ideas?"
no subject
"What's wrong with Super Squad?" He's joking, even if he keeps calling it that in his head. "Simple, to the point." And dumb, like something from a cartoon, but where was the point of a lofty name? (Says the man who named a chemical extracting machine The Milking Machine) Wasn't their goal to be something for the people, something accessible and not something extravagant?
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Not that he had any real ideas of his own. It was certainly an odd bunch for a team and their goals were rather broad. "It should be something centered around our goals or function we serve at least. Probably a bit much to pin down right off however."
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"Hermann's got the right idea, though." He strokes his chin, thinking. "With the Paradigm it was a bit different. We were the first major superhero team, so we knew any subsequent ones would have our example to follow. Our goal was to model what such a team should be. Sort of a 'city on the hill,' if you like." (Which meant, of course, that all eyes had been fixed on the team's spectacular meltdown, but shhh.)
"Here, though - imPorts have been around for thirty-odd years, teams have come and gone, civilians are more or less used to us. So perhaps something that sets us apart from the others."
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Also, I'd appreciate it if Overwatch stayed off the table." Angela sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose.
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"We could always go with Axon?"
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"'Guardians' would also fall in that same vein, but may come across as condescending. To be honest, it's likely that we won't find any one name which satisfies all the criteria we're hoping for... and in any case, I hope that our actions will prove a better perception than our name."
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"'Advocates' definitely works the best. I like it."
IV. Logistics & Training
He taps something on his watch, and in front of each occupied seat, a small compartment, otherwise flush with the table's surface, slides open. From these rise little platforms, and on each platform rests a device that's unmistakeably a communicator. They're made of metal and plastic, silver-colored with a slight bluish sheen, and apparently designed to be worn either on the wrist or inside clothing. (Those who experiment at any point may find the comm sticks firmly to most surfaces, but pulls off easily when twisted.) Qubit takes his own and holds it up.
"Voilà. A fully secure, quantum-entangled comm network; i.e. nonexistent transmission lag unless you somehow find yourself orbiting Neptune." Here he smiles conspiratorially. "Oh. And," he adds, "the Home key will teleport you instantaneously back to base. There's a bit more they can do as well, but that covers most of it. It goes without saying that you will not want to lose these. They shouldn't work for anyone not part of the team, but let's not take that chance."
Was the dramatic presentation necessary? Of course not. But handing these out is a symbolic gesture, the sealing of a deal, binding the team together over the airwaves. They are not undertaking this venture lightly.
"If you've any other questions about those, I'll answer them later on. But know, now, that we can all reach one another at a moment's notice. And... we are all officially on call."
Pocketing his shiny new comm, he moves on. "That said. I know some of you are still relatively new to the whole superpowers thing, so training is going to be a high priority. And we'll need to start training regularly as a team, as well. At the moment, unfortunately, we don't have our own facility where we can do so without collateral damage. There's all sorts of space in the couple of floors below us, but they're not, for instance, fireproofed." (Not to single Marty out there. Just about anybody can start a fire if they screw up bad enough.) "There may be something like that in facilities geared toward imPorts, but I'd feel better with a system we have full control over, regardless."
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V. Anything Else
Mingle
For his own part, he'll be hanging out in the part of the watchtower with the comfy sofas. If anyone wants to bug him one-on-one, now would be a good time. Otherwise, yeah! Just socialize and have a good time.
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Kid approaches with a smile, the stark white lines in his hair seeming even brighter in the interior lighting. "Feeling optimistic about tonight's accomplishments, Mr Qubit?"
b. ota
Kid is doing well at mingling (in his own way; he always seems just a little awkward about it) until he sees the tray of cookies. And since he wants tonight to go perfectly, you might find him with a protractor in hand (where he even got it from, who knows? does he just carry one around?) and measuring the cookies for ideal circumference.
He's also throwing out the ones he finds not meeting his exacting standards...
a