Note: this takes place prior to Untold Tales #240 or so
The holographic artificial intelligence known as Hallie had been given an android form to inhabit by two of her friends: Al B Harper and Yuki Shiro, both of whom are active members of the Lair Legion. The body granted the young woman enhanced attributes and senses, yet she only rarely inhabited it, that is, until later, when another Legionnaire, the former government “super soldier” known as Mr. Epitome, encouraged Hallie to make more of an effort to use the robot body. At first she found herself enjoying the abilities and opportunities the “suit” gave her, including a briefly rekindled romance with the aforementioned Paragon of Power. Hallie soon had to deal with several other problems, however, as a variety of menaces attempted to manipulate her or the technology she used for their own gain. The most powerful, a genocidal alien computer known as Brainattack, crippled Epitome with a severe stroke and nearly destroyed Hallie before it was defeated. Now both heroes have returned home in an attempt to heal from the variety of wounds their adventured had inflicted on them.
For Dominic Clancy, each step was a Herculean effort.
He grasped onto the set of parallel bars and slowly shuffled one foot in front of another, sweat pouring from his body, soaking his dressing grown. For a man used to flirting with breaking the sound barrier when he ran relearning how to walk was slow torture.
A flash of green pixels foretold Hallie’s arrival into the physical therapy room. The holographic intelligence smiled.
“Have I come at a bad time?” she asked.
Dominic’s trainer answered for him, “Not at all. We’re done,” Uhunaluna Amadayla Excelsior! brought a wheelchair to the end of the bars and waited for Epitome to sit.
“Not finished,” he muttered, his speech distorted. Dominic slowly turned to shamble back the way he came.
Uhunaluna would have none of it, “Yes you are,” she gave the chair a rattle, “Now, please sit so we can get you to your bath.”
“Later.”
“Mr. Epitome, if you don’t come back here I’m cutting you off. No C-Span, no C-Span II, no Sportscenter.”
Dominic slumped his shoulders, a defeated man. He began to circle around. Hallie took pity on him.
“Uhuna, do you mind if I take Dominic for a while? I want to show him something.”
Later, as she wheeled Epitome towards the labs, Hallie couldn’t help but tease, “You know, most men wouldn’t be so averse to a sponge bath given by a nurse who’s also an Abhuman Sex Princess.”
“Not into… fetish,” he labored to reply.
“What about the ones involving pleated skirts and pom poms?”
The Paragon of Power’s eyes widened, “Ahm.”
The hard light hologram cybernetically commanded the lab door open, “Do you mind going into the Virtual World with me?” she asked, her tone suddenly pensive, “I want to show you something I made.”
Dominic nodded.
Hallie, relieved, mentally began opening the appropriate files that let her control her own separate reality.
*****
The scene Hallie had sent within the digital world was one Dominic remembered well from his youth, “This is Seagull Beach,” he announced with some surprise, a condition was compounded by the realization that his speech and equilibrium were normal, and that his joey had been replaced with a muscle tee and shorts. He looked over to the green-skinned woman in the white unitard, “Amazing.”
Hallie smiled, “It’s Seagull Beach, circa 1981.”
The Paragon of Power scanned the parking lot. He didn’t see a car with the make or model later than that date. Nor could the man spot a single person anywhere, “We’re alone?”
“Yup. I can edit some crowd scenes in, if you want.”
“That’s unnecessary,” Epitome suddenly realized he could do more than see the beach-grass dotted dunes before him or hear the gulls that wheeled overhead; he could smell the salt from the sea and feel the heat from the sun, “Amazing,” he found himself repeating.
“Glad you like it; I designed this setting for you a while back,” the digital intelligence explained as she activated the scenario’s snack bar program. A rickety looking trailer flanked by several picnic tables materialized beside the pair.
“How far back? Before my memory loss?”
She nodded. It had been meant to be a birthday gift for the man, prior to the point where his age became a matter of contention, “Do you want something to eat? I’m buying.”
“Uh, sure?”
As Dominic sat Hallie walked over to the unmanned counter and returned with two hot dogs and sodas.
“I don’t recall the snack shop selling Coke in glass bottles,” Epitome stated in a tone that was glibly pedantic, “Sort of ruins the illusion of place.”
Hallie parked herself on the bench opposite and scowled slightly, “I made an artistic decision to go with the bottles: The algorithms required to construct them have a symmetrical elegance I appreciate. And Coke from a can tastes funny.”
“Understood. Though if an artist is to correctly represent her subject-” the big man continued to tease.
“Oh, get real. You don’t know jack squat about art,” Hallie huffed good-naturedly.
“I know what I like.”
“Uh huh: Norman Rockwell. Now there’s an artist who was a hundred percent faithful in characterizing his subjects,” Hallie paused. What she asked next carried with it a surprising tone of vulnerability, “You like this, though, right?”
“Yes, I do. This has been an entertaining, thought-provoking experience,” Dominic smiled and finished off his soft drink.
The young woman decided to file away her query on what made a twenty five year old beach scene ‘thought-provoking’ for the moment, choosing instead to address her primary reason for their journey, “I have something else to show you, another anachronism that will probably offend your aesthetic sensibilities, but you should be able to get some use of it,” she gestured and a laptop appeared on the table.
“That looks like my computer,” Dominic said, not incorrectly.
“It is. Well, a digital representation of it, anyway. I figured I could create a workstation for you here in the Virtual World so you’d have an easier time reading and keeping up with your correspondence,” Hallie didn’t need to mention how the injuries Dominic had suffered had wrecked his communication and fine motor skills, “You can keep up with all your online research, any hard text you want to look at I can have scanned into the mainframe.”
The big man with the Army regulation crew cut looked uncomfortable, “Thank you, Hallie, this was very considerate of you-“
“Well, to be fair, I have my selfish reasons for doing this: I’m as eager to track down Illusionous and his two goons as you are, not to mention what exactly the Hell Brainattack was talking about when he captured me looking for that ‘Ultimate Weapon’ of his, so helping you with those investigations is also helping myself,” the sentient computer program couldn’t resist prying, “Though why you’re spending so much time researching corporate law is beyond me.”
Dominic was ready with his excuse, “That is work I’m doing for the woman we rescued on Apocalyspe. Dancer’s friend. Miss Allen.”
“The one Lissette and Mumph are helping start up a business in Paradopolis. The weaver.”
“Yes,” the Man of Might quickly scarfed down the rest of his chilidog, “Could I have another Coke, please?”
After she willed the beverage to materialize Hallie went on, “She seems nice.”
“Miss Allen? Yes. And a person with a remarkable story, actually: she managed to survive alone on that hellish world for months without any special powers, skills, or equipment.”
“She should write a book.”
“I’ve suggested it, er, well, actually, it was suggested, but not by me, I was present—well, heard about it, ahm, secondhand…” Dominic’s voice trailed off as he tried to organize his thoughts, “But it’s a good idea; the book. What she was able to accomplish was quite admirable. I don’t know if any of we so-called superheroes could have managed in identical circumstances.”
“That was quite a feat,” Hallie admitted before making a somewhat tortuous observation that bordered on a confession, “There might be some Legionnaire who could do what Miss Allen did, though. Sir Mumphrey. Lisa would probably wind up running all of Apocalyspe if she found herself stranded there,” she turned to look out over the water, “And, if you think about it, Visionary is kind of like how you described Kat: no real powers, or skills, or – well, the point is, he’s just an average guy, but he manages to come through when it matters. Don’t you think?”
Dominic suppressed the urge to launch a half dozen arguments why such a comparison was not even close to being appropriate, and instead quipped, “Possibly.”
Hallie’s gaze snapped back to confront the Star Spangled Splendor, “That’s a ‘Vizh is fake’ reference, isn’t it?”
“Possibly,” Dominic repeated, a smirk on his lips before turning serious. He knew his joke at the expense of someone’s veracity would be an awkward segue for what he was going to have to do next.
To Be Concluded
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