Log:Victrian Walker Mk II

2018/08/31 Jak Amara 1

Jak has spent the afternoon pre-partying after a day of successful deliveries. He doesn't worry about directions as he's quite familiar with the party's location.

So after a couple of hours in Fiji its off to Ibiza to dance until his alarm goes off on his smartwatch.

After finishing the set of his favorite local DJ he disappears in a flash of white quantum lines aligned in angular patterns centered around yellow motes of energy.

A short time later, he appears on the rooftop of a swanky restaurant known for its lunch menu & looking very much like he's already having a great time.

He has a few appetizers before pinging Amara to see what she's up to. Probably a bit presumptious for most people- afterall, who can just 'ring up' their monarch directly? Jak seems to pay that no mind as he takes the toothpick from the bill tray and sucks his teeth as the line chimes regularly indicating its live and attempting to connect him to his party.

The phone rings quite a few times before it finally picks up to a sound of whistling wind and a metal clang. And the distinct sound of crumbling rock? "I'm a little...busy...Jak!" Amara grunts over the line. It's quickly followed up with laser blasts.

Jak shakes his head and sits up twice as alert as before and sobering up rapidly as a surge of adrenaline hits him. "What- wait! Where ar--" Then it hits him.

He vanishes, leaving his tip behind letting it fall into his chair as he crosses through higer dimensions to traverse the third.

He leaps to her position- having memorized her quantum pattern.

Following Amara's quantum pattern pulls Jak right to his Omniarch, letting him pop in right beside her. Currently, the armored Queen has her shield up and both hands braced to support it as she's crushed against against a cracked red granite wall of a building. Spiderweb cracks radiate from behind her, her armor partially embedded in the surface.

Pressed up against her shield is a heavy bipedal walker mech with laser turrets at its sides. It's heavy foot is crushing down at her shield as the turrets fire off another round at the energy shield. The shield flickers under the onslaught.

"PREPARE FOR ANNIHILATION." The machine's singular blue lens rotates as it draws in close to the shield, and Amara's face.

Amara grits her teeth as sweat breaks out on her brow from the effort to brace against the weight of the thing. She--and Jak--recognize the Victrian Walker as one of Mechanon's creations from the fall of Riddersholm. It was a walking arsenal they thought they had destroyed. Perhaps there is more than one, or it was rebuilt.

You'd think Jak was ready for just about anything with the confidence he protrays despite the seemingly dire situation he's popped into. "Sounds like you need a change of luck, your Majesty." He says as he winks and side steps her shield, planning to divert the attention of the giant machine's kill-mode to something a bit more Jak.

Venture moves as if he were already immortal, throwing caution to the wind entirely.

His cyan eyes grow ten shades more steely as his pistol is unholstered and spun around his finger as he lifts his arm and levels it- barely bothering to sight the thing since its so large and he's about to disappear.

He reappears once more- after vanishing in a flash of glowing lines in various vectors & bright yellow motes. He reappears some 40 feet behind the great mechanoid with the same flourish- his weapon still leveled right at it.

He pulls the trigger.

You'd think Jak was ready for just about anything with the confidence he protrays despite the seemingly dire situation he's popped into. "Sounds like you need a change of luck, your Majesty." He says as he winks and side steps her shield, planning to divert the attention of the giant machine's kill-mode to something a bit more Jak.

Venture moves as if he were already immortal, throwing caution to the wind entirely.

His cyan eyes grow ten shades more steely as his pistol is unholstered and spun around his finger as he lifts his arm and levels it- barely bothering to sight the thing since its so large and he's about to disappear.

He reappears once more- after vanishing in a flash of glowing lines in various vectors & bright yellow motes. He reappears some 40 feet behind & about a half dozen to the right of the great mechanoid with the same flourish- his weapon still leveled right at it. His plan is to knock it off balance and off of the Queen's failing defenses.

He pulls the trigger.

The Victrian Walker's bulky frame is rocked by the impact of the concussive blast. It's legs try to adjust as it's slammed ten meters away from Amara. The top-heavy machine starts to tip, and it's legs fail to catch up with the sudden swift momentum. It crashes on its side up against the building, legs briefly flailing to adjust to no ground being beneath them.

Digging its foot against the wall and another on the ground, the Victrian Walker braces itself and rights itself with a lurching effort. The top half of the machine rotates and tracks its turrets towards Jak. "INTERFERENCE. DEPLOYING COUNTERMEASURES." A pod bay opens up and a missile deploys towards Jak. It spins and weaves as it crosses the distance to our Hero.

Jak isn't ready for the sudden arrival of the projectile version of the Spanish Inquisition. The rocket covers the ground even before he can move on- which is probably why he usually plays at a longer ranger.

But luckily his forcefield belt holds against the worst of the explosion. He just suffers from the jarring wave as he leans into it to keep his footing.

He grits his teeth but he holds his ground.

Amara gasps as she sees Jak disappears briefly in the flame and smokey explosion of the missile, still stuck in the granite wall. She lets her shield deactivate and plants her hands on the wall, pushing herself free. After the smoke clears and Jak is still standing, she breathes a sigh of relief. The young Queen couldn't bear losing another of her citizens, especially one she calls friend.

She tips her hand up to her head with two fingers extended, then flicks them down as if snapping a visor closed. As her finger swipes, a helm forms around her head to protect her head and hide her face. Her field really does a superior job of protecting her, but really she wants it for the latter reason.

Seeing a citizen potentially hurt as lit a fire in her. Her left hand clenches and her shield reforms, renewed and whole again now that her systems have had a breather to reinforce it. She draws her arm back, the Hammer of Riddersholm forming in it as it's built from the cosmic power of the Riddershard powering her bracer and armor. With a mighty swing, she hurls it towards the Victrian Walker.

The hammer does not fly true. The turning of the Walker causes it to fly past it.

Jak's mainland-made shields still fluctuates as patches of it fail in order to keep the whole system running. Its obvious they still need a breather too, but Jak doesn't slow down. He stays in the thick of it- thinking that if he's already been targetted that his distraction is working.

Jack teleports to a position directly above it just a half a second after activating his lightrunners'. The bright highligther streak of energy manifests beneath him, even as he rotates and twists to orient the Victorian Walker into his sights.

Sure, in his world there's only one Ace of Spades, and that's him. But he can still play on a team or in a duo, seemingly with as much style and flair as he does anything.

His steely eyes never leave the Walker's centerpoint.//Teleport to be 20m above- putting him at his 30m half-move max. Activate Hardlight board to ride out next phase and aim gun at Victorian Walker with the intention of knocking it down- hopefully into the ground with great force, giving his monarch a steadier target to hit next time around.

Venture 's mainland-made shields still fluctuates as patches of it fail in order to keep the whole system running. Its obvious they still need a breather too, but Jak doesn't slow down. He stays in the thick of it- thinking that if he's already been targetted that his distraction is working.

Jack teleports to a position directly above it just a half a second after activating his lightrunners'. The bright highligther streak of energy manifests beneath him, even as he rotates and twists to orient the Victorian Walker into his sights.

Sure, in his world there's only one Ace of Spades, and that's him. But he can still play on a team or in a duo, seemingly with as much style and flair as he does anything.

His steely eyes never leave the Walker's centerpoint.

The Victrian Walker is slammed straight down into the ground, caught off guard from Jak's attack. Without arms, it's difficult for the machine to right itself at first. But it starts by rotating the whole upperhalf of its body to point upwards and track Jak. "THREAT LEVEL ESCALATED." That robot's voice is deeper than it has any right to be. A laser cannon on its right arm starts to hum as it powers up and shoots a thick beam towards Jak.

The beam of light cuts across the sky, harming nothing.

Amara opens up her hand, palm open towards the robot. A swirl of particles fly out from her hand and try to surrounding the Walker and dissemble it at a molecular level.

The outer hull starts to disintegrate in sections as it's deconstructed, leaving warped holes that reveal the vulnerable insides of the machine. "HULL BREACH" the Walker intones in warning.

Jak's constantly shifting position to keep his board's hardlight systems in motion as required makes him a tricky target under the best of circumstances- but knocked on the ground like that and upon shifting rubble is too much for the archaic targetting systems of the Victorian Walker.

Venture 's gun whines as he rides up and around, lifting a few meters up again before leveling his weapon again. Simultaneously a bead of sweat falls from his right temple caused from the heat of the laser cannons pulse.

Jak eyes the hole in the outer hull and shifts his sights accordingly as he hopes to hit something vulnerable and keep it pinned on the ground.

The Victrian Walker's insides spark, grinding, and let out combusting sounds. It jitters as it tries to get up, being stuck prone. "DANGER. ENACT EXTREME COUNTERMEASURES." All of its pod missile bays open up, and the sky is filled with missiles that weave about.

Amara's eyes widen behind her faceplate as the the missiles start flying. There's a blur and a glint of her armor. It's so fast that Jak doesn't track with what exactly transpired, but suddenly Amara is in mid air, hammer held aloft as she starts to drop down on the Victrian Walker, leading with her shield without hesitation. Her fingers tigthen on the shield grip as she lands atop the prone walker, her shield smacking against the missile bays as they try to discharge their full payload.

Several missiles blow up point blank in fire and smoke and sharpnel. They never fully leave the pod boys and the explosions rock both the Monarch of Riddersholm, First and possibly Last of Her Name, and the Victrian Walker. But at least the payload isn't loosed upon the city in this populated urban part of town. The missile launcher arms are blown wide open from being blocked during firing. More sparks and grinding sounds are heard, followed by...

...a massive explosion as the Victrian Walker's core is BREACHED. Both it and Amara are suddenly consumed in a brilliant flash of light. Amara's eyes squint shut as the light breaks through in slices as her shield is compromised in several areas. When it finally falls, Amara completely disappears in the explosion's light and smoke. The explosion travels for twenty meters, shaking windows and cars in the area. Several car alarms go off.

Jak performs a roundhouse cutback gaining maximum speed and amplitude off the top of some invisible wake in the air. The trail of his lightboard creates a figure eight that fades out of existence rapidly as Venture yells out, "Amara!!!!"

The bright blast forces him to ride the shockwave out and cover his eyes simultaneously despite wearing his sunglasses.

As soon as the shockwave is past Jak teleports into the heart of the mess, praying his Monarch is still standing. He fears the worst.

As a breeze cuts through the smoke and the air starts to clear, Jak finds himself a six inches from a laser port pointed right at his head. The barrel is dark and dormant. What he sees as the rest of the smoke clears away is the scrapped remnants that was the Victrian Walker. All that's left that's recognizable is its legs and one turret arm that his face is in front of. The rest of its hull is peeled back like a banana from the force of its hull being blown open from the inside.

It will take a moment of spinning about to see Amara's armored form laying on its back sixteen meters away from the smoldering Victrian Walkless. Her body has cut a groove through the pavement, and clean shine of her armor is hidden by soot and scorch marks.

The gunslinger spins frantically waiting for the smoke to clear before he realizes he can just get to her via an extra-dimensional shortcut. He doesn't even take a moment to admire the destruction left in their wake- at least not yet.

He sidesteps around the entire third-dimension and pulls himself straight to her quantum signature.

Appearing next to her, he drops to his knees reaching down to flip open Amara's helmet to see if she's breathing.

"Come on... don't be dead. Don't be dead. Dontbedead." He says, like some kind of worry-laced mantra.

Amara is squinting as sunspots cloud her vision. Her face is streaked with soot markings that match the slats in her helm, making a black line of "war soot" across her eyes, bridge of her nose, and her temples. She suddenly coughs out a bit of smoke, then of all things, laughs from the excitement and adrenaline. "Woooo! Hahah, did I--ow!--get it?" she asks as she starts to shift and run her hands over her armor to feel how it faired. She's battered and bruised, but alive and in good spirits over their victory.

Jak's worried manta is cut midway through by Amara's coughing. "Oh- holy schtick! You definitely got it. Its over there." He points. "and there. And there." He points in two other directions.

He falls back to sit on his butt next to the down but not out Queen of Riddersholm. "So... typical monarch business I see." He chuckles, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Amara is assured the robot's definitely down as Jak points out several different locations of the remnants of the Victrian Walker. "Routine," she jests back and starts to arduously push herself up into a seated position with a pained grunt. Once she's upright, the helm falls shut again thanks to gravity. "That hurt. But not as much as I expected," her voice echoes inside the armor as she looks at the walking armory's remains.

This city is chock-full of first-responders. Most are prepared to help. Some might want to take personal advantage. Others might just be itching for ...something. There's those with a little from Column A and some from Column B, too, of course.

Large explosions in the middle of the city are a fairly strong sign that something is happening, and so people respond. People like Quiet, who makes her way there in leaps and bounds, quite literally.

For anyone paying attention to Amara as opposed to the burning ruins, there are a few holes punctured in her armor's torso and along her right upper arm.

"Oh you were expecting it to be worse?" He asks in surprise, tilting his RidTek glasses down the bridge of his nose so she can see the incredlous look in his eye. "You're a madwoman." He says before laughing again. "That's insane." He adds shaking his head.

"Maybe we work on trying to not trying get ourselves killed every other day? Just to shake things up a bit. On a completely unrelated note, poker's a really fun game & can be quite exciting too." He leans back, propping himself up with both arms with a smirk on his face.

From the looks of them, you'd think they were starved for danger and equally addicted to it. They certainly aren't wanting for thrills, but ther emight be something to say about the addiction to danger.

"Those primitive card games look so boring, though," Amara complains as she pushes herself up to her feet. The armor isn't heavy, but she's sore, singed, and scrapped up from the explosion she shielded with herself. Her hand rests on her side to brace herself as she lets out a sharp breath. "Perhaps we'll keep it to three days a week, yes?" the Mad Monarch finally settles on the danger attempts. After being so sheltered in Riddersholm all her life, she has no idea of the risks she's putting herself in. She's just trying to live up to the heroic ideas of all the stories her father told her.

Jak's mind cuts to Amara at the table with a fortune of chips in front of her. Even with no skill one could 'buy the pot' everytime with a big enough bank to back you.

Jak notes there are no banks on Riddersholm, so the entire treasury rests in the Mad Monarch's hand. The version of Amara sitting at the table in Venture's mind cackles manaically before saying, "You were right Jak! This game is fun." She seems to grow in size as Jak's stature shifts to match their relative pot sizes.

He shakes his head before saying, "You're probably right. Its an acquired taste- for retirees. You're a long way from that I suspect." He grins.

"That sounds good. So I'll pencil you in for the same time Tuesday. I'll have my people call your people." He grins. "But first things first. Any broken bones, internal bleeding & other sustained injuries?" He asks, his tone growing a bit more serious, though still carrying a hint of playful mirth. But its clear he wants that question answered.

"Oh yes, several hundred years before that," Amara reassures him of her retirement age. That is if she survives that long. She looks upon her works, and does not despair. The ruins of the walker are laid bare for all to see. She starts to walk towards the main pile of smoking destruction, her body language stiff and slower than usual. "Mmff. Nothing SCEPTER can't knit back together," she says to Jak gently. "But I think I'll need you to transport me there right after I examine the remains."

Jak stands, dusting himself off and letting Amara make her first few steps before following along. He hasn't known many, but he knows that royalty are a proud sort so he let's her do it herself for as long as she can. He smirks at her stubborn she is. He could easily cross the divide with her in tone with no more thought than lifting a finger.

He follows along close enough for casual conversation. "Well that's good." HE notes with a nod. "At your command we'll go straight there."

Amara nods her head, but stops talking for the moment. Walking is proving a bit painful, but not intolerable. She wouldn't dream of asking Jak to help traverse such a short distance when it's not an emergency. That would be pure laziness. Bruises and burns be damned!

She finally stops as they reach the hull remnants of the Victrian Walker. It's all in pieces and slag, smoking still. After a moment of staring down and studying at it, she makes a thoughtful noise and seems to be looking for something.

Spreading out her hands, palms facing each other, her suit generates a gravity field around the broken components. They float in the air, and with a further spread of her arms, all the pieces spread apart to be individually examined. She slowly shifts her arms to cause the ball of components to rotate. "Hmmm..."

Jak may have taken a bit of advantage of his Aeon Helix embued state. Cut to scenes of Jak using his teleportation wastefully. Like to get from a hotel room bed to the bathroom, or from the fridge to the microwave to the couch at a friend's house who's couch he was surfing that week or even him moving in line at the grocery store while holding a tabloid magazine with a headline featuring a man who claims a whole race of aliens abducted him to make him their lover. Then he teleports into arm's reach of a candy bar before it cuts back to the present.

Jak is speechless as Amara flips and twists the individual components the way a CADtable flips a holographic image in some of the businesses he's been in. Its an impressive display, especially when used so casually.

"Hmm? Something you weren't expecting?" He asks with a quirked eyebrow before pushing his sunglasses back up to their proper place.

"Something I was," Amara says with a lack of mirth, suddenly becoming serious. She beckons towards herself and one burned out component that caught her eye floats towards her. It pops out of the field and she moves her hand to catch it. It's twisted and burned, but some of the circuitry can be made out.

The rest of the components lower, and she cups the salvaged part in her hand. "I'm hoping I'm wrong." She cups it in her hands, before a swirling energy surrounds her hands. Light shines out between her fingers. When the light dies away, she opens her hands to reveal the part, repaired and whole. The craftsmanship of it is unmistakably Ridtek.

"Oh." Jak says quietly, wondering what could possibly cause Amara to become so serious so quickly. Flashes of the rogue androids streak through his mind, telling him the answer- Mechanon. "Damn." He adds, his tone matching hers.

He lets her work in silence after calling the salvaged component to her hand. He gasps, still always impressed with that trick- but he has no idea what he's looking at. Only that its RidTek.

"So these bots are stealing upgrades from the Isle?" He asks, trying to wrap his head around this very technical problem.

Amara nods slowly as she turns the component. "This is the second machine that's attacked me that's had our technology," she says with great concern. "The other also self-destructed, but I was able to salvage the parts for SCEPTER to examine."

Closing her hands around the small component, she ponders for a moment. Part of Mechanon's plan was to steal the Ridderstone and crash the island into the mainland to create a massive extinction-level event that would rid the planet of organic life at last. Both plans failed with the help of heroes.

"I thought we stopped them and succeeded. But it looks like they managed to steal some of our technology and research to upgrade themselves," she murmurs as her mind reels from the consequences of this. They were already deadly before. What are they becoming now?

"Second?!" Jak says with shock written on every octave in his tone. "When was the first?!" He falls into that classical cowboy position, thumb tucked on his belt buckle, the other resting on the butt of his gun in its side hoster.

"Oh- well, did the brainiacs figure out anything useful? I'm thinking if they've hit you twice, is there some kind of tracking element in play here? If so- can we reverse it?" Jak asks, wanting to turn the whole dynamic on its head if possible. In his experience hitting someone before they hit you is a good way to defend from getting your ass-whooped. He's usually dealing with a different scale altogether though so that may not be prudent here.

"Upgrades?" The question casues goosebumps to rise from Jak's skin. "That's a terrifying thought."

Amara suddenly realizes she's been caught in a lie of omission. "Oh. Well. About a week ago when I was visiting of the stores in the alien district on my own." She makes the ommission sound casual that slipped her mind. "The storekeeper's AI alerted us that it was being hacked, and when we went outside, a drone attacked us."

She looks to Jak, trying to get a read on his gunslinger posture. She's seen it frequently, but she hasn't quite learned the reason for it in this context. He's probably raring for a fight, as the old cowboys used to. Something he learned from the Americans, she figures.

"I think it's time we visited SCEPTER to see what they've discovered. And deliver this new evidence to them," she suggests.

"Oh- just a week ago then?" Jak asks faceteously. "I'm sure it was nothing." He tigthens his lips and narrows his eyes after setting them on the Victorian Walker they just put down. "I'm sure you had it well in hand, though I'll have to look for a Queen sized impression in the Alien District. Maybe it'll attract tourists."

He sighs. There's still something about visiting SCEPTER that he's not a fan off. Perhaps familial ties still unexplored. Whatever it is keeps Jak on task and eager to leave when they've visited so far, though it wasn't always so.

"Sounds like a plan." He says before putting his hand on Amara's shoulder lightly, teleporting them to Riddersholm in one leap, then to SCEPTER HQ with two more much smaller quantum leaps.

"The drone was small," Amara explains. As if that was a good defense. "And much easier to defeat. It only had a minor weapons array. Perhaps it was only a scout," she suggests helpfully as Jak puts his hand on her shoulder. With a few leaps, they and outside the remnants of SCEPTER.

It looks better than it did after the attack, but still not back to it's full glory. The outer wall is still down and exposed, but a series of drones have begun to creep along the edges of the gap, building up the exterior edges as they go, bit by bit.

Amara steps forward and leads the way into the interior with no door to impede their progress. She steps on one of the levitation pads near the rear where there is much less damage.

"Mmmmhmm." Jak says, not entertaining the Queen's excuses or bowing to her reasoning, though he doesn't argue the point any. "Well, at least it wasn't a dragon. This time." His tone implies that he's questioning whether or not she'd even call him against such an epic & legendary adversary. Venture chasing his own legend makes this quite a point of contention for the gunslinger.

Jak's eyes trace the building, comparing and contrasting it to the times he's seen it before. Its slow going, but mainland reconstruction would take much longer and be made of far simpler materials and from far simpler designs than anything on the Isle. He makes a slightly sad face as he thinks of the destruction brought upon this place before following Amara to the rear and onto a levitation pad.

"MedLab One." Jak says, hoping to wedge Amara into getting her injuries dealt with first.

"If it was something big or important, I'd be sure to summon you," Amara reassures Jak's wounded pride. She may be eager to prove herself as much a knight and guardians as her late father, but she's not suicidal. Despite actions to the contrary.

She opens her mouth, about to order them directly to the research labs when Jak cuts her off to make her deal with her injuries. It's another of those things Jak gets away with. "Ah. Yes. That first." Her tone makes it obvious she wasn't thinking of taking care of herself before investigating a mystery. The levitation pad negates gravity, and the pair float upwards to the third floor, where Medical facilities are. This one is more research and training, but had been strained as one of the few functioning medical centers when the attack happened. The fact that it's no longer packed is a sign that some of the other medical centers are working, or that they've already dealt with helping most of the injured.

One of the nurses walking by stops as she sees Amara, still in full armor, and Jak step out of the levitation column and onto solid ground. She quickly gives a salute, right fist to her heart before hurrying over. "My queen...?"

Jak isn't sure he believes his regent- especially after popping into the middle of the madness they were just in with the Victorian Walker but he's not the type to press the matter. Time will tell & he's got plenty of time. Plenty of time. So he says, "Mmmmhmm."

Jak begins whistling a tune he heard somewhere in passing- though with Jak everything is always 'in passing'. The tune is called 'Suicide Queen', though he's pretty certain Amara hadn't heard it but she often surprises him with her cultural knowledge.

Venture is naturally impressed with the efficiency of everything- especially the medical care. Its something the mainland is centuries behind on despite there being so many more there in need of such care. He often wonders how he survived at all.

When the nurse salutes Amara and takes her into her personal care, Jak falls back a step- but will continue on to the MedBay with them both. His eyes will be drawn to the walls and equipment now that he's here, and maybe a nurse or two while he lets the magic do its thing.

Amara doesn't recognize the tune, despite being into mainland movies and some music. Not that Riddersholm doesn't have it's own, but Amara has worldly tastes. "Yes. Quindel, isn't it? I'm in need of some medical attention," she says, managing to remember the name of even a nurse at the SCEPTER facilities. "Minor injuries only," she reassures.

Quindel looks surprised and pleased the new Regent recalls her name. She looks concerned at first, and it dims a little at Amara's mention that they're minor, but she's not entirely at ease. "Yes, of course. We have some of the med bays working again. Follow me." The nurse quickly leads the pair along through a wide corridor.

Many side rooms have the lights off and still look out of commission, but as they get further away from the damage to the core of the building, the rooms are in operating condition and fully powered. Some rooms look like they're self serve. A man sneezing and coughing steps into the room ahead of them. The door slides shut, there's a momentary flash of a capsule-shaped light on the door. When the light turns off, the door slides open and the man walks out, the picture of health. Sneezing and coughing gone. The lines for these are short and quick to go through, more efficient than a line at the grocery store.

Further ahead are the more complicated med bays, and med tanks. The worse wounded from the recent war are here, and due to the damage to other facilities, it is regrettably overcrowded. Some of the tanks have people with terrible burns or missing limbs. They float in the greenish-blue liquid, sedated as unseen yoctites eat away dead tissue, then rebuild bone, muscle, and tissue, knitting them seemlessly to original tissue. To the naked eye, it just looks like burned flesh is melting away and growing back fresh, or limbs are growing back.

At the speed Jak can observe, chances are it'll only take a few to several minutes to restore citizens to perfect health, but the lack of enough working tanks means people are suffering still. Amara takes the time to look at every citizen, observant of the damage Mechannon caused. Getting medical facilities working has been one of her top priorities assigned to SCEPTER.

The injured that notice Amara salute her as the nurse did, and Amara gives the appropriate polite nod as custom dictates, though she wishes she could do more. Even those who look too injured to do so try to rouse themselves and rise to salute their Omniarch, but each time this occurs, Amara raises a hand to motion them to halt and excuse them from following the old customs.

With no comment from Amara about the tune he decides it makes the perfect ringtone for the Queen. Especially if she's going to call 'against the big important stuff'

Jak clears his throat before saying, "Let's just let the professionals dictate what's 'minor' and what's not, yeah? Unless 'Doctor' came with the crown and I just missed that because I was mainlanded?" Of course its in English despite his Riddertale lessons going relatively well. On the upside, English is much less reverant and so covers a good deal of his brashness in front of most Ridderfolk- but probably not those fluent in the tongue.

He winks at Quindel, unable to help himself when dealing with a pretty face before she turns away deeper into the facilities. His eyes seem only for the pretty nurse until Mr. Sniffles' miraculous recovery is set on display. His cyan eyes go wide as he sees the common cold cured before them. "Woah." He murmurs before spinning to watch the man walk away, completely cured.

Then everything changes when they pass the tanks and the lines for them. Jak then joins in with Amara's royal & personal vigil, where he too takes the time to look at every citizen, to memorize their faices & their injuries so he never forgets what his recklessness likely caused & the dangers inherent in it. Somedays he thinks that the not knowing is the worst part, but seeing this its clear to him that his penance is perhaps too light. He clenches his jaw, growing serious.

"Hrm. No, medical knowledge was not part of my studies," Amara admits glumly, using english to keep their conversation relatively private. Many of the top officials in SCEPTER are proficient in English. But some of the nuances are lost on them.

Quindel looks over her shoulder, Jak catching her eye. The purple-haired woman smiles to herself and looks ahead, leading them on to another room. It's large and looks every bit like a scifi medical bay, with various stations. If Jak's lessons don't fail him, the holo-sign at the door labels it as the Royal Infirmary. "Please remove your armor and sit on the table. The Doctor will activate when you're ready."

Amara nods and steps towards the table, tapping her bracer. Her armor starts to deconstruct rapidly around her. The clothes revealed beneath are a bit charred in places from the explosion, even torn. A few angry burns underneath can be seen in those gaps. They must be painful, but Amara does a great job of keeping a stiff upper lip and not complaining.

"Oh- well then. Best leave it to the lovely Quindel & the autodoc then, Queenie." He says, shaking off the shadows of his secret guilt & the heavy reminders just behind them. He chuckles, not even slightly concerned about other ears listening in. More proof his brashness isn't some act, but an integral part of his own mental makeup.

Jak sucks his teeth as the armor's deconstruction reveals the extent of Amara's battlewon wounds. "I'm pretty sure this counts as 'excessive'." He chides playfully before turning to let the doc do the thing. "Though I admit, it did look fun though- up until the... end there." He points over his shoulder at her, indicating her current condiiton. "I'm pretty sure my gear wouldn't stand up to the ride. Not that I'm jealous or anything." He is.

It'll soon be proven that the armor, while impressive, has its flaws against the worst and most deadly of damage. A life of safety and security has meant the Armor of Riddersholm never required upgrades. But as the late King's demise proves, the armor is not infallible.

Quindel leaves the room as Amara sits on the table. The nurse gives Jak another look as she passes. It's flirtatious and inviting. The type to tempt Jak into wondering about all the spare private rooms and playing doctor.

"It's hardly excessive. My people have suffered worse," Amara says stubbornly in protest.

A tongue clucks in disapproval. "Really, Queen Amara, what would King Omar say if he saw you like this?" says a male voice that starts off with some digital distortion before sounding flesh and blood at the end. It even speaks in English since Amara is. And Jak was certain the room was empty save for Amara, the nurse, and himself.

If Jak were here alone he'd be off flirting his way into one of those private rooms- or so he thinks as his eyes watch the shapely nurse leave the room. He even takes a step in her direction until the sound of Amara's protest catches his ear.

He's about to rebute that with a note of being needed for those very people, but the doctor's entry cuts him off. He raises an eyebrow, wanting very much to turn around but he's not here to get a peepshow on the royal form. So he settles for simply saying, "That's a good question." Though he's not quite sure who he's agreeing with.

It may not be long before Jak feels a common cold coming along, when not in service to his Regent. Quindel walks off to continue her original business.

Amara is silent for once. No witty retort or complaint back to the autodoc. Invoking her father's name in this instance has stolen her voice for a moment.

"You must remember your royal duty, Queen Amara. You are the last in your line, and you are charged with keeping your people safe in these especially perilous times." Amara shifts a bit at this reminder of her duty, sitting taller now despite the pain.

"Now please sit still so I can scan you," the autodoc snaps with a clipped tone. Polite but scolding all at once. And in a perfect upperclass British accent.

Jak is definitely feeling a little sniffle coming along, but he'll let it simmer for a few days before making another appearance to 'not' see Quindel but definitely happen to bump into her.

He nods as the Autodoc says it better than he ever could, especially considering who they're talking about. He knows she's not likely to listen to him, but the royal medical intelligence? Well, that might carry a little more weight with the royal ear than his own half-hearted quips. Plus, it might make his own legend a bit easier to prop up when someone isn't throwing themselves on every explosive ordnance that comes afield.

"Mmmmhmm." Jak says to no one at all.

An annoyed groan of submission is heard from Amara, in a most unroyal way. She sits there and takes it as the autodoc's systems--aka the scanners placed in various points in the room--start to light up all at once. Several beams of energy scan over Amara, and the Autodoc sounds alarmed. "Contusions, 2nd and 3rd degree burns, abrasions. What has Your Majesty gotten herself into?" the Autodoc exclaims in exasperation.

Submission is not something he's used to seeing the Queen doing- ever. Jak's distracted grin shifts into a tight and wry smirk at the sound of the groan. It may be unroyal, but it's so pleasing to the petulent & scoundrely recesses of his psyche.

Having not turned around to see the AutoDoc, Jak's mind begins building an image of a cybernetic being matching the voice he perceives.

He's a serious and thin man, dressed functionally but in clothing simulating its station. He even gives him a tight and thin mustache- all the better to chide Queen Amara with while waggling his virtualized tongue.

"That's the question of the hour, Doctor. I didn't really get a chance to ask questions when I popped in to save the royal skins." His tone is every bit as brash as that sentence sounds and the look onhis face is one of complete and utter ambivolance to his words and how they might be perceived.

Quiet has left.

"Then perhaps her Highness might enligthen me. And hold still, your Majesty. This will just take a moment," the formal sounding Autodoc informs Amara. When Amara is not so forth coming, the Autodoc gets impatient.

As sounds out of a scifi movie start up behind Jak, a man suddenly appears in front of him without the benefit or signs of teleportation. Jak was partially right. The autodoc is thin, middle-aged with hawkish features, but no mustache. He's dressed in one of SCEPTER's medical uniforms, blue with black accents. He doesn't have anything so primitive as a stethoscope on him, nor the typical doctor's coat one is accustomed to in the world at large.

"Perhaps you could tell me what little you know?" the Autodoc holo-AI asks in a tone that sounds potentially condescending at 'little', but that could just be the upper crust British affectation.

"Please stop squirming, Your Majesty," the Autodoc says from behind Jak, the original projection still attending Amara.

Amara justifies her squirming with a plaintively muttered, "It tickles."

Jak is in the middle of lifting his head towards the super-sci-fi sounds of Riddersholmian Medical Technology at work when the autodoc splits and is duplicated into his point of perspective. "Woah. Um- yeah. Sure. Of course- like I said, it's not much." Venture replies before crossing his arms and finding a position on the wall where he can prop himself up and still keep the Queen & her recovery just outside of his POV.

"So- I just cleaned out a Saudi Prince from his evening's spending cash over a game of five card stud and its a beautiful night in Madrid- wait. That wasn't it. It was Monte Carlo. The Madrid tourney was last week. Anyway, so the Sun is just an hour or so away from rising over my suite, so I thought..." He says, explaining everything- everything but what the Doctor is asking at least. He chuckles as Amara deflects & defends with the classic ticklish defense.

The holographic Autodoc before Jak starts to rub the bridge of his nose. "I meant what you know about what happened to our Queen," he says in exasperation in a very human way.

"Oh- well that's easy. A big robot. 6 meters tall at that." Jak says, exadurating. "So it seems, while I was winning a fortune our Queen was dueling the evening away." He says, finally answering the Autodoc. Mostly.

"I heard the commotion on the phone when I called and found her in the middle of a dance number- pressed against, well into a brick wall." He continues. "That's when I drew my Thunderbolt and got involved myself. Eerything was going just fine until someone decided to use their body as a shield against a rocket launching platform."

The original Autodoc says with a satisfying, relieved tone, "There, your Majesty is back in tip shape. Do please be careful, your Majesty."

Amara resists saying 'finaaaally!' as she hops off the exam table. She looks good as new. Even her clothes are repaired. "Thank you for the help, Dorisan. I appreciate it." She starts walking for the exit--and Jak--as he finishes up explaining the situation.

Both Dorisan Autodocs gasp. "Really, your Majesty!" says the original.

"The Shield of Riddersholm title is not meant to be literal!" says the holographic Autodoc to complete the sentence.

Jak is all too amused seeing the highest seat in the land be admonished by the Ridderfolk version of the family doctor. So he simply stays leaned against the wall. He gives Dorisan knowing shrug over the rims of his sunglasses, though his eyes shine with mirth now that the Queen's safety or health is no longer in question.

He has full intentions of letting her squirm a bit but can't help but say, "Well Dorisan- if it counts, Her Majesty is pretty much epic tier with the Shield." That part is true.

"It is both figurative and literal in these new, dark times," Amara retorts with authority at her scolding. Good as new in all ways, and no longer needing to squrim. "Now I must attend to further business. Good day, Dorisan," Amara says with a slight nod of her head. Dorisan bows customarily as the Queen departs. She gives Jak a look as she passes that says 'Traitor!' and also 'let's go'.

Jak returns her look with a snicker and a shrug that says, "That's accurate." He waits for the Queen to pass and as he falls in line behind her he turns and waves to Dorisan. "See you around, Doctor D."

Jaksen Hideyoshi, aka Jak Fortune is always impressed with Amara Ogden's ability to slip into that royal 'We' so easily so he doesn't banter. He just follows along, off to the SCEPTER's other levels to investigate the Queen's find.

He jams his hands in his pockets and whistles 'Suicide Queen' softly.

Amara's mind has wandered down the path of duty. No royal member of Riddersholm has had to face such trials since ancient times, when the rest of humanity was still forming small tribes, and rampant magic and the rule of the Atlanteans and elementals ran wild.

Not that the royal family and other Ridderfolk never left their utopian isle. With everything they could want provided, the one thing Riddersholm lacked for millenia was adventure and glory. Such things needed to be sought out in the world. Most Ridderfolk, at one or two times in their lives at least, voyage out into the world to seek glory and heroics, or perform great acts of charity. For what them was duty, honor, and in some ways, a fun adventure, turned into legend and stories of great men and women, both in heroics and in the arts and sciences. But the most legendary of tales take some notes from the 'magical' or 'superheroic' acts of the royal line in disguise on their walkabouts.

Riddersholm has been influencing and cultivating the world bit by bit with a light hand. In the World's darkest days, chances are Riddersholm has experiencing an isolationist swing in its own development.The Renaissance that pulled the world out of the dark ages was sparked none other than by the then newly crowned king of Riddersholm, none other than Amara's father, King Omar Ogden. With his coronation came an end to a long stretch of isolationism. At his decree, the Ridderfolk were encouraged into going out in the world to wander. At heart, they are the ultimate knights-errant.

Amara pulls out the restore component as she goes back to the grav-lifts. "What song is that?" she asks curiously, her gaze set on the component.

Jak has long since lived among the children of those warring ancient tribes. Their wild civilization imprinting on him but in his heart the Lost Son of Riddersholm became a wandering gun because of the tenants espoused by the Great King Ogden who came before Amara, long may she reign.

Their wandering spirit helped him keep his sanity before he gained control over his ability to teleport. Waking up in a new place isn't so difficult to stand when your people were only known by the world at large through their walkabouts.

Those same walkabouts gave him hope, believing that in time he would cross paths with some other Ridderfolk and they would spirit him away, back home to his parents.

The thought of them makes his heart skip a beat and his mind wanders. He hadn't yet looked them up, fearing the worst after Mechanon's attack and the shaking of the Isle. He isn't sure which is worse, having no idea what happened to them or the knowledge that he might be to blame for their deaths.

With a stoic breath out he's ripped back to the current moment by Amara's question.

"Oh- its just this damned song I heard in a pizza shop in Chicago. Never got the name." He answers, which is at least half true. "Can't get it out of my head though." He inserts one of his patented shrugs with a misanthropic smirk.

"Hm." That's all Amara responds with as she steps onto the grav-tube. To anyone unfamiliar with Riddersholm technology, it just looks like she stepped off the edge of the landing and into a beam of light. Without any rails, this place would be a legal disaster on the mainland.

She points her toes as she ascends rapidly to the top floors of SCEPTER. Riding it to the peak, she actually leans forward and leaps out of the beam. Her velocity carries her in an arc upwards still, before she arcs down to land lightly on the top floor landing.

Striding on towards the science and research center, she grabs the attention of a floating drone. "Please guide me to High Magister Pluro. I need his expertise on an urgent matter."

The drone buzzes and chirps in a rhythmic pattern, almost musical, that Amara seems to understand. She smiles and nods, and follows the drone as it leads them on.