Michael grins ar Rich's question.

"Get tougher clothes maybe? I might need to pick up some tougher stuff too. The speed I was traveling at did a toll on my shirt yesterday... and my shoes dropped somewhere in the Pacific. Perils of being a superhero I guess."

"It's March 1998," Peter responds. He shovels in a few mouthful of foods like a starving man. He barely chews and swallows hard. After a few bites, he adds.
"We need to have some of these Aeon people look into that fire. Maybe if the fire was of unknown origin it will be worthy of further research."
"Not on you," he hurriedly clarifies. "No, but on the accident and if there have been any other accidents to see what's up. Anything to give you a leg up on controlling your power."

More food gets shoveled in. He looks around and wonders about Sascha and the effects of her firing up.
"Mmmph ... excuse me again," he tells the table. "On my first night in there was this guy with no pants and this Hispanic Male, "Peter stops and flips through his pad " ... this guy," he points out a handsome latino, the sketch looking much more like a black and white photograph than a charcoal etching, "made some pants for the guy. Just like that - fabric, buttons, zipper, and all."

He looks past and sees the newest entry into the room. Peter motions toward Nathan.
"Oh, there is the man who was in need of pants right now. Maybe he can tell you more about the Magnificent Tailor."

Rich looks doubtful and replies,

"That seems iffy. Even if I find a metal that doesn't melt it'd burn me when I turned it off. Ceramic might work, but I'm not sure we can make clothes out of that. I wonder what the space shuttle uses as a heat shield?"

Rich nods and says to Nathan,

"I think I caught the tail end of that..."

Æon Archives
Directory: The Utopian Project
Subfile: Michael Peters
Audio Report
From: Dr. Albert Simkins
To: Dr. Henri Rashoud
Date: March 27th 1998
Subject: Update

"Good morning Henri, I am sending this to you directly in the hopes you will reply to me immediately. We've... well, Michael Peters may be somewhat more 'powerful' then we first thought. I know we've been prioritizing our resources, spending more time testing and examining our more interesting patients, but we may want to apply a more even hand from here on out... let me explain..."

//Attached file: MRI-M.Peters01
//Attached file: MRI-M.Peters02
//Attached file: BldTst: M.Peters01
//Attached file: BldTst: M.Peters02

"As you can see from this, Michael shows the same abnormal growth in his brain as all New People. As far as we can tell, it has remained at a constant size, but the blood tests are far more interesting. In the first test results, you can see the traces of the medication that was in his system from his time at Washington Mercy. We also administered adrenocillin as well as a broad spectrum antibiotic. The second test, taken fourty-eight hours later, shows no presence of any outside substance. None! Naturally, we were excited by this. We hoped that Michael might posess similar adaptation abilities to Juno, but careful examiniation of our previos sessions showed no sign of that ability. We then... well... perhaps we were a little to excited. I ordered a bone biopsy speculating that whatever was causing his rapid assimilation of toxins and medications would be far more evident in his marrow. In our haste to learn more... well... we didn't inform Michael what we were doing. He was unprepared for the sudden pain of the procedure. I'll let the video speak for itself.

//Attached file: MedRm04 03-27-98 14:33:30
//Extract Begins

Michael Peters, in a medical robe, can be seen laying on his side on an operating table, four doctors are in the room with him. A large medical apparatus is behind him. Michael looks slightly confused.

"Um, doctors, what are we doing again?"

He is ignored by the doctors, who are excitedly prepping the machine, chatting to each other. One of them, Dr. Simkins, takes the apirate needle and swabs Michael's back with a disinfecting agent before starting the procedure. He inserts the needle into the skin, preparing to pierce the bone.

"Ow, okay, so this is another blood test?"

Dr. Simkins suddenly twists the instrument, piercing the surface of the bone. Michael shouts in pained surprise. The doctors pull back in shock as what appears to be liquid mercury slides out of Michaels skin and covers his body in a metallic shell. His face is covered as well, marked with a cruciform shape that covered his eyes, nose and mouth.

"What the hell doctor?!" Michel barks. His voice is now somewhat metallic and hollow. He jumps to his feet and pulls the needle out of his back, grunting at the sharp pain. The steel medical implement is crushed in his hand and it drops to the floor. Michael stands there, his body covered in the skintight smooth metal. Everything was still visible, his muscles, his hair, even his fingernails. Only his face was obscured. Michael seemed unaware of the armor.

"The next time you want to jam a needle into my spine you better ask for permission!"

The doctors stood silent for a moment then Dr. Simkins stepped forward.

"I'm very sorry Michael, we were just so excited by the discoveries we didn't take the time we should."

The metallic skin covering Michael fades in an instant, leaving Michael clothed only in the medical gown once more.

"Alright, just... be careful. This is all new to me too you know."

//Extract Ends

"As you can see, Michael was unaware of his transformation. It was only after I showed him that footage that he believed me. Unfortunatly, he has been unable to duplicate his unique defense mechanism and I have been hesitant to inflict pain for pains sake. Also, he has continued to exhibit strength well above the human norm. Luckily, the gradual progression of his changes had allowed him to adapt and not cause accidental harm.

I believe we should be more careful. If Michael had had abilities similar to Richard, he might have irradiated us without meaning to. I recommend we be very careful when exploring the possibilities of these new people.

Let me know when you recieve this message, Henri."

King's training had continued for the next couple of days. The Doctors had him do a variety of test that included feats of strength, as well as endurance. He had suggested that on the 30th of the month that he wanted to swim the channel. Dr. Go was actually intrigued by the motion and had made the arrangements made for a team to record the trip. King wanted to impress the Doctors and heck it was good pr for the folks here at the WHO facility.

The day of the event was what most swimmers would consider to be great for crossing. There was little wind and the sea was calm. The boat crew from the Channel Swimming Association was ready and the timer was set. All the proper steps had been completed to ensure that this was an official swim. On the CSA official’s mark King jumped in with gusto, settling into a pace that was far faster than any swimmer had been seen doing before.

3 hours and 35 minutes later, King stood on the banks of France. The CSA officials were staring at him in complete and utter astonishment. He had broken the channel crossing record by coming in 4 hours faster than the current record of 7 hours and 17 mins. King smiled, he had even impressed himself. The swim had been exceptionally easier than he thought it would. He wasn’t even close to being tired either.

The news crew that was waiting on the French banks scrambled to get their equipment in place to conduct the follow up interview. “Mr. King, please tell us how you were able to complete that swim so fast? That is the most remarkable thing this reporter has ever seen.” “Well, I did this swim really as a test, every since the Galatea explosion I found that I had become stronger, and faster. I used this swim as a way for me to gauge just how fast I really had gotten. The folks over at the WHO facility have been most helpful in training and preparing me for this.” King made a wide grin as he finished his statement. “I just want everyone out their to know that with all the recent events going on in the world life goes on, and even though I may having being given some special abilities doesn’t mean that I can still d things that I like to do.” Kings smiles for some pictures and heads off to the waiting helicopter to take him back to London, leaving the news reporters with more questions than answers.

"The magnificent tailor? Can't tell you much. Whatever this stuff is, however, I can tell you that it's not a normal suit. Check this out - "

Nathan peeled away the collar, and pointed to a small tether typing the shirt to the tie. "It's literally a one-piece suit. When it's hanging up it's all on one hanger. It's tough as hell - I could slide a razor blade across it and not even nick the skin underneath. And - look, don't quote me here but I'm pretty sure the color's changed. These used to be burgundy, I'm sure." He points to his red pants.

"So is it tough enough to stand up to extranormal abilities? I don't know. It might be, but I don't have any of my own. I think that - I can't even believe I'm saying this, you know that? But Wei Fang might have said it best. I think I copy extranormals. On my own I'm pretty much a normal person, but if I tried I think I could replicate the abilities of anyone in this room."

Nathan spears a pancake. "If I tried." He starts to eat it.

Rich looks interested but doubtful in the suit up to the point where Nathan says he can replicate powers. At that Rich noticeably moves back and says nervously,

"Uh... I'm probably not the place to start with that one. How did you lose your clothes?"

"Oh, I came into the meet and greet and saw a woman on fire and my head just went *pfwoosh.*" Nathan mimes his head exploding. "They tell me I burst into flames, then blinked across the room, then grew wings. First one wrecked my tux."

Fang turned when she heard her name and found herself being talked about by the red-haired man. "You did all of that," she said softly, interjecting herself into the conversation. Maybe this time it would go better.

"I didn't catch your name," Fang added with a smile.

"Nathan Dayes is the name. And yes, they tell me I did all of that. Not in any damn hurry to do it again, though, so you can relax, Richard. I'm not eager to teleport into a wall or light anyone on fire."

"1998...", Sascha repeated slowly. "4 years..."

She looked at Peter watching him shovel food in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten for days. He kept trying to find an positive approach to her situation providing her with more strands of hope she could cling to.

"Dr. Silbermann said it was my fault. All fires had been set, they were no accidents and I was the only survivor.", she gave it a little more thought before she continued, "well he didn't blame me for it but he said there was no other reasonable explanation. But then again, no one could explain my mental... disorder", her voice got lower as she said 'disorder' obviously embarrassed by the whole situation.

Then she looked around again, as if she was hearing voices. Her eyes scanned the room as if she was searching for something... "I... I need to go. Excuse me please.", she got up her breakfast only half finished and tried to find her way out of the breakfast area and into her room.

"Nathan," Fang said, feeling out the name carefully. She spoke English well, but their names were still strange. Of course, even those surrendered to her mental prowess once she'd said them a couple of times. "It is good to meet you. May I ask how you did you do what you did, that day? I have a theory that the New People have been granted the ability to make chaos out of order, to break the laws of physics that we have been governed by for so long. Yet there also seems to be a pattern within the chaos that we create that makes me think we've tapped into a new set of laws. We still seem to have limits, just different limits than before.

"I was hoping you'd have some insight, as you seem to be copying this chaos for your own use," Fang added, her eyes gleaming with interest and curiosity.

Peter choked down his latest bite of breakfast.
"Be careful," he manages to say to Sascha. "Don't push yourself too hard."

Peter watches her leave, concern on his face. Once she is gone, he looks back to the conversation around the table. It hasn't been hard for him to keep up with the conversations, his mind being capable of processing tons of environmental data at one time. Much like mixing paints to get the perfect color. Peter looks to Nathan to see what insight he can offer.

Sascha entered her room and slammed the door behind her. For a moment the room, the breakfast area seemed to be engulfed in flames but she didn't hear any screams. She slowly calmed down but felt an inner heat rising.

Sascha's eyes met the large mirror which was in the room. Back at the Asylum there were no mirrors. To high risk for the patients - they could cut themselves or the orderlies with it in extreme cases... and they all had been extreme cases.

She didn't recognise the woman she saw. Her last recall of her bodyimage was four years ago. Back then she was a little girl. She came closer to the mirror reaching out with one hand to touch it as if she was touching herself. Her face was different too. She had grown several inches and her body seemed to belong to a dedicated gymnast. What distracted her most was her face. Her hair was black as the night with bright hazel eyes that seemed to burn with an inner fire stared back at her.

Slowly the image changed - her skin got darker and reddened until it reached at saturiated crimson intensity. The woman standing in the mirror was burning and her eyes radiated furious anger. Then she heard her voice speaking to her.

*You will never be in control Sascha - I will always be here, watching you and see that you make the right decisions. Don't listen to these people. They don't know what lies ahead. Seek him out, he has the answers you are longing for. He will take care for us and then we shall reign in fire.*, the woman in the mirror laughed...

"I don't know how I do what I do, Wei Fang. The few times I've tried it, it's proven difficult to control. And considering how dangerous these abilities can be I'd rather not screw up."

Nathan finishes his pancake and starts on another. "That said, I had a question for you all. Just something I drew out of my own experiences. What was happening to you all, when you first discovered what you could do? I know some of it's in the files but I'd like to see your perspective."

Rich shrugs and says,

"I'm missing some pieces out of my story, and I'm not sure if my memories are correct. At the time I thought lots of people, including me, were going to die from radiation poisoning from something that dropped down from the station."

"That's the clear part. Less clear is whether there was a piece of the station, whether there was radiation, and it's cause. The other witnesses apparently don't remember what I do... it's possible we were dealing with something other than a naked woman with powers similar or identical to what I have now." Rich smiles and continues, "It's even likely".

"As for your razor proof suit... maybe. It's thermal properties are going to be the big issue. Chances are 'no', but I'd feel really stupid if after years of random nudity it turns out it works so I should find out."

Juno, having been watching from the doorway, walks a few steps back in. She answers Nathan's question.

"There was an earthquake," she explains. "My house fell on me and I blacked out. A few minutes later I woke up, and got out of the wreckage, and I wasn't hurt."

Michael chimes in:

"I was shot accidently in my home and woke up in the hospital... while trying to discharge myself I collapsed and woke up in Saigon in Vietnam."

He looks at Juno.

"I was also unhurt when I awoke. No gunshot or anything. Just a headache."

"I was working overtime, trying to analyze what was happening with the Galatea exploding, and then the Fireman's public performance," Fang said, pausing with her fork in the air before setting it down. "How many of us can directly relate our powers to what happened to us when we became New People?"

"You're thinking that too, eh? You stress out over analysis and become super-smart. Richard deals with radiation and can now control it. Juno has a house fall on her and winds up unkillable. Michael can survive a gunshot and get himself far, far away from where he got shot. And I wind up in a room full of extranormals and a woman on fire and the Fireman, and I... I think I was wondering how all of this worked. I think I wanted to back up Randall Portman. Hmmm."

He scribbles furiously on a notepad. "What if what we get relates to what was happening to us WHEN we got it? Stressful situation... and abilities that gets us out of it."

"You know," Juno says thoughtfully. "It's not just the house either...when you really think about it."

Rich adds, "We could be reversing cause and effect. What drew me into radiation? Did I know on some level that I'd be able to control it?"

Rich says to Fang, "Were you an analyst because you had this power? Did you grow up accessing pieces of it? Were you always better than your co-workers at this? We play towards our strengths."

Rich nods towards Juno and says, "Nothing personal, but your power doesn't prove anything. If you were another radiation controller or super analyst when that house fell, you would have died. So what's to say others who did die weren't radiation controllers?"

"Let's say that radiation control is a common power. But if you need to be in a radiation situation to trigger that then there aren't going to be many of us just because radiation situations aren't common."

Michael nods.

"That makes sense... but following that, my power was either derived from getting shot or wanting to escape. Those, unfortunately, aren't uncommon in today's day and age. Warzones, inner cities, there would be people exploding with power everywhere. It's more likely that we all had this... potiential within us and our abilities tailored themselves to the circumstances of our situation."

He frowns, a new thought occuring to him.

"But what caused the potential? There were no superheroes, real ones anyway, until the day the Galatea exploded... but I dont think that would have caused it, I mean, other NASA missions have exploded in the past, like the Apollo mission, may God rest their souls."

"No, I think...uh...pants guy is onto something," Juno insists. "The second before the roof fell on me, I was just thinking like...okay, I should back up. Earlier that day I was talking to one of my teachers about Darwin and evolution. So then, the house is falling on me, and the last thing I thought was something like...this is like evolution. House falls on me, I die...and I never have kids. So...Darwin."

"Only I didn't die. See?"

Rich responds,

"That we *don't* have people exploding with power in warzones and inner cities is why I don't think it's as easy as just having potential. I think your potential has to match up with your situation."

Rich nods towards Juno and says,

"You're what? An evolutionary shapeshifter? And if whatever triggered your powers had waited 20 years, what would you be? Evolutionary biologist? How many people your age are interested in Darwin? When I was your age I was interested in radiation and engineering."

"I don't see a lot of 'specific adaptation to the situation' for most of us. Switch around our triggers and keep the same powers and they'd still work."

"I get shot and get healing, Juno is exposed to radiation and evolves an immunity, Michael teleports away from the falling house. Or the house falls on me and I turn into radiation and heal from it, Juno evolves from getting shot, Michael teleports away from the radiation."

"All of them still work pretty well."

Fang had been quiet for a moment. "If this is hyper-evolution, it makes just as much sense for it to be more open and adaptable," she said. "We might be able to shape our becomings. Mankind is very adaptable, after all, and we have adapted to do some amazing things. It may not matter in the long run, but you might become something related to radition because of your life and the choices you make, not your life being shaped to your potential because of radiation."

She met Rich's eyes and there was a dazzling intellect in them that was fascinating and frightening. "It is, I believe, simply a matter of what you believe, because even then, you are shaping your life, fitting the details of it to match your overall picture. Humans think what they will, and even as New People... we were all socialized as humans." She frowned and sighed. "That may be our downfall."

"No," Juno says, frustrated. "I'm NOT interested in evolution really...it was just on my mind at that second."

She shakes her head.

"Whatever. The lab coats will figure it out. Later."

With that she turns and resumes heading out of the cafeteria.

Rich watched Juno walk off without comment.

Rich responded,

"Some of us do better than others, but yeah, I hear you. All the old tribal fights could get dragged into Novus wars. Imagine me, or better yet, Pax, as a Palestinian militant." Rich let that one sink in then continued,

"I think America will do better than most, it's culture will let Novus succeed without trying to enslave him or abuse him. The self made man and all that. Of course we have the occasional militant ourselves."

"And I disagree," Fang said quietly. She knew that she was about to anger some, but she had to speak her mind. "The government may allow more freedoms than some - China leaps to my mind - but the New Person from America will carry with them a culture that assumes privledge and the right 'to have'. It is not communial, at all."

Rich replied,

"I must be missing something here. I understand why undeserved privilege would be a problem, the historical example is the incompetent leader, say a prince from inbred royalty."

"I don't see why deserved privilege is a problem. Bill Gates earned his money and his station, I'm going to do the same."

"Benefit to the community is a side effect of these efforts, but it is no less real because of that."

"The problem is that most ... many of us will be forging our way to the top of the socicio-economic food chain and quite rapidly. We are going to make waves."

Turning to Fang,
"And we are going to have to have a common cause with the other New People. After all, we are going to be judged by the actions and attitudes of each member. That needs to be acknowledged."

Looking around the table,
"I have no idea what kind of 'common cause' this will take, but I'm hopeful. We seem like a pretty smart and determined bunch."