Log:Harrisburg Dreams, Scene 2

Harrisburg Dreams 2009/10/27 	 Spirit Zachary Zimm 2

Dorian has arrived at the Federal Correctional Complex in Petersburg Virginia, and gotten past the limited security checks at the gate. Zachary Zimm is incarcerated within, in the small maximum security wing of the complex. He isn't allowed many visitors, but you've been able to get in to see him. The guard at the door remains there, right on the other side while you move to talk to him through the plexiglass, staring at the wheelchair bound man. "I don't know how you got your pass." The guard says. "But this guy's tricky. He likes to play head games with people."

This prison cell is covered in solid white, with a bed and toilet for a single occupant. It has a television built into the wall through a glass partition, and a small collection of technical magazines. There is a wheelchair in the cell, plain and ordinary, with a chunky, wide faced man seated in it. His eyes gleam with intelligence, and his legs are covered with a thick blanket. His head has been shaved bald, and his thick features seem to have shallowed with prison life. His arms are wide and powerful from moving him around, but his fingers are narrow and delicate, the hands of a technician. He wears an orange prison uniform.

Dorian nods. "I'll keep that in mind. Just monitor things from out there, if you would." He smiles, "He can't be any worse than Yellow Jacket, after all."

The guard unlocks the door. "Go on in." He says with a chuckle. "Really. I hope you're not a superhero. He hates them. Blames them for losing his legs. He's a very bitter man."

Dorian smiles. "I'm a superhero. But I'll be careful about not displaying my powers. It'll matter how observant he is, I guess. It's not like I've hidden my identity." He pauses, considering. "Maybe he'll view me as something other than a hero. My early years were a bit...rocky. Charges were dropped and all...but still."

The guard pulls the door open with a dull metallic clack. There is a slight creaking sound, muffled by the plexiglass, and Zachary Zimm wheels himself forward, a smile on his features. "I see I have a visitor." He smiles a little bit. It looks almost pleasant. "I've been expecting someone."

Dorian smiles slightly as he sits down. "Oh? Why's that?"

"I have to admit, Mr. Perrault, I wasn't expecting someone of your caliber and intelligence, that turns out to be a nice surprise, if only it wasn't for your profession." He gives a pleasant smile. "But you know how it is. A man loses his legs to a superhero and can't get over it. A nuclear technician watches a bunch of nuclear explosions after being shot with a rifle and can't get over it." He gives you a smile as wide as the world. "We're not so different."

Dorian smiles. "I'm impressed that you know who I am. And in some detail, too. My background as a technician most people are totally unaware of. And my profession is really 'computer programmer' at this point. Anything else is a hobby." He pauses, "You're right about something, though. Nuclear power sets me on edge. Just in general. Not as much as it used to, but still."

Dorian shrugs a bit, "Getting hit with a rifle shot...enh. That's no big deal. Knocked me out for a bit, but that goes with the territory."

Zimm's eyes narrow a little bit. "You gave up a fairly promising career. You could have been a genius. I read your work." He smiles a little bit. "Some of it was even useful to me." His hands squeeze the chair a little bit. "Well, everyone needs power, Dorian. Or things don't work. Wheels don't grease. People don't do what you say. My research into artificial limbs has...shall we say...not been hindered by my incarceration. Sadly, there's something wrong with my neurochemistry. I'll never walk again." He cocks his head a little bit. "So what's the reason for your visit, Mr. Perrault? Here to taunt me about how you escaped the cruelties of the system while I rot in here?"

Dorian smiles slightly, but looks a little sad. "You've actually looked at my journal articles? I never even finished my Ph.D. after the accident. Dr. Barker's work as a whole was probably more interesting, since he was my advisor." He sighs quietly. "I didn't come here to taunt you, Dr. Zimm. Just to ask you some questions about the incident in Harrisburg." He holds up his PDA, which has a picture of the Devastator, "You may have seen this picture before. Or not. I'm not sure how much television you get to watch. This is 'The Devastator'." He lets Zimm take a look at it before continuing. "I noticed some similarities between his technology and yours."

"Oh, I watch a lot of television." Zimm smiles. "It's my window on the world." He relaxes in his chair. "Well, there's always parallel evolution, but if you think I had something to do with that terrible act in Colonial Bay...I'd be a fool to tell you, wouldn't I?" He smiles, it's almost a cheeky grin. "But of course I support the Devastator. He made you look like fools. Do you know whenever a superhero dies, I celebrate with a raspberry muffin?" He gives you a wink. "But it's not as if all my technology isn't available. After all, what could possibly be wrong with artificial limb research?"

Dorian smirks a bit, "I don't think you were personally involved in the explosions. And I'm pretty sure there's more going on to the incident than meets the eye." He pauses a bit, considering. "I was just wondering...who were your collaborators? I mean...you haven't really been kicking out articles into peer-reviewed journals as of late." He smiles, "Perhaps it's nothing, and I'm on a wild goose chase. Or perhaps this Devastator is a former colleague of yours...or a postdoc or something. And you might think he or she is powerful enough to kill me one on one." He grins, "Though that latter part will never happen with radiation, I can assure you."

"That depends." Zimm chuckles. "On how much energy and force the Annihilator can absorb." He winks. "Oh, did I let that slip?" He smirks. "I hardly think it matters. He can absorb far more than you can possibly throw at him, and I hardly believe there's an overload limit." He chuckles. "There's a lot of my postdoc patients. Hardly a surprise. Perhaps I even blackmailed some of them. I am what you refer to as an evil scientist." He rubs his chin a little bit. “I don't think he's powerful enough to kill you one on one. The sniper? That surprised me as much as it surprised you." He murmurs. "But the explosions...no...I expected something like this eventually." A sly wink crosses his features. "Nothing stays hidden forever."

Dorian taps his chin. "No...I meant a postdoc. As in a post-doctoral candidate. Someone fresh out of grad school, coming to work for you. They wouldn't be a 'patient'. Well, normally not. You are...as you say...an 'evil scientist'." He holds up his fingers, doing air quotes around the words." He pauses, and smiles. "Though you've just told me a great deal. So...it was likely someone connected to your past, then. And it doesn't bother you if they surpass your personal achievements?"

"Why should I?" Zimm's hands knot on the edge of his wheelchair. "Look what he did to you! Just look! He left his mark on the city! He signed his name! And he wrote it in your blood, and Lady Luck's blood, and Halo's blood! Only Lightray, damn his eyes, saved it from being a cavalcade of hearses. And he still WON! Do you hear me? He won! Superheroes aren't supposed to beat people up. Superheroes are supposed to save people. Devastator even saved people for me. That was the best part." He covers his mouth with a little smile. "The wonderful thing about a large group of explosions is that it's very easy to rescue people while other people are rescuing people."

He adds, almost as an afterthought. "I was terribly craving a raspberry muffin."

Dorian raises a brow, though it's clear he's starting to get a little more angry, by the tone in his voice. "None of my blood was spilled there. None. Feel free to watch the footage again. I was in no danger of dying. So, you can lump me in with Lightray." He starts to add, "He killed six hundred people. You're telling me he SAVED people?" His face contorts in disbelief, "You're telling me that he transported all of the 'missing' people out of there?"

"Oh, no." Zachary Zimm smiles. "Tell me. If you wanted to do artificial limb research, and you suspected that something like this might happen, wouldn't you have a plan in place? The problem with being poor and downtrodden is when you're critically injured, or missing an arm or a leg, you may be willing to volunteer for things that you would hardly volunteer for under normal circumstances." He taps his fingers. "And that makes Devastator and Annihilator perfect candidates for a little cybernetic weapons research, doesn't it? If the experiments succeed, I don't have to worry about you anymore. But they get what they require, and I get what I require." A light burns in his eyes. "Knowledge is power, Mr. Perrault. But being able to sell advanced cybernetics loaded with weapons to military dictators and super organizations around the world and having several hundred volunteers? All from your prison cell? That's real power. Of course, if you find my facility, you'll find the volunteers. If you find the Devastator, you might find the facility. Difficult to say, really."

Dorian raises a brow again. A common response to what Zimm is spouting. "ACRO might not appreciate the competition. Unless you're working with them. Which I doubt. I'm reasonably sure they don't need your help. I'll be sure to track down Dr. Hammer or Dr. Jacobs to speak to them. Perhaps they'll have some insights." He pauses, taking stock. "Okay...so...cybernetic weaponry. Volunteers. Or...blackmailed people. Either way. And potentially a research assistant gone equally around the bend."

"What are they going to do to me?" Zimm laughs. "Kill me? I doubt it. Far more likely, given the nature of my efforts, they'll give me a medal. It's not as if I can leave prison, Mr. Perrault." He smirks. "Go talk to Doctor Hammer and Doctor Jacobs. My genius is easily greater than their own. Combined." His thick smile resonates across his lips. "Who needs a research assistant?" He smiles. "I don't deal with crazy people, Mr. Perrault. I deal with people who make deals. If you can't be bought, you don't have a price. And those people are dangerous. Oh, so dangerous." He scoots up against the glass. "Maybe for you, you might be worth two raspberry muffins."

Dorian smiles, and moves a little closer to the glass. "Have one of them now. I already died once." He chuckles, and his eyes glow solid white for a very brief moment. He takes that moment to look around the cell while his pupils aren't visible, scanning for EM transmissions. After all, he's an evil scientist, and needs a way to contact his people on the outside, if he's telling the truth. Perhaps that method was something he built, like...MacGuyver. His eyes then re-focus on Zimm before returning to normal. "Curious. Best get that checked out."

Dorian smiles, and moves a little closer to the glass. "Have one of them now. I already died once." He chuckles, and his eyes glow solid white for a very brief moment. He takes that moment to look around the cell while his pupils aren't visible, scanning for EM transmissions. After all, he's an evil scientist,a nd needs a way to contact his people on the outside, if he's telling the truth. Perhaps that method was something he built, like...MacGuyver. His eyes then re-focus on Zimm before returning to normal. "Curious. Best get that checked out."

Zimm smiles. "Perhaps I'll indulge. But deaths that turn you into a superhero...those don't count. It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Perrault. If I call you Spirit overmuch, a rage boils up within my breast, a sort of white-hot unpleasantness I can't quite control. It's my one weakness. But all victories are Pyhrric in Harrisburg, Mr. Perrault. Look at the way human relationships work. You'll find the Devastator." He grins. "I have to admit, you're a very good programmer. You almost bypassed some of my more critical safeguards." He taps his temple. "I believe we don't have anything else to discuss right now."

Dorian smiles and nods. "I was about to say the same. Thank you again for your assistance. You've been...quite helpful. If as about as eccentric as I thought you might be." He stands, and pushes his chair back, "And you're right. I'll find him. It's just a matter of time. I have a good idea who it might be already. Now it's just time to see if the pieces fall into place like I expect."

"I hope they do." Zachary Zimm smiles. "Of course, my expectations are different from yours..." He drums his fingers on the plexiglass, a disturbing out of cadence rhythm that follows your ears, long past your trip beyond the guard and out into the light of day...