2013-01-11 The One that Speaks Sense (yeah, right)

The scrap yard is silent in the morning, all but forgotten by the residents of the town in the distance, and now devoid of Intergang goons it's even quieter. What few scraps come this way are all handled by computer, tagged and the like, and then once a week a man comes down and crushes what needs crushing, smokes a few, eats a bit, then leaves again and fakes his time card on the way out. This week is the first time that's not happened, apparently the computers have decided he's no longer required, and a new employee on the company's books, by the name of John Khol, now runs the scrap yard full time. No one asks questions, no one cares, it's not like they're paying him a lot after all... And so... No one is there to witness the armored man as his gauntleted fingers sink into the hood of the 1974 Nova rust bucket like it was soft butter before nonchalantly ripping it free of it's mountings and tossing it atop a nearby pile of scrap metal for a spider/scorpion like sleek shiney metal robot to lift and scuttle away with quickly, it and the scrap vanishing down into a dark hole in the earth.

Nate probably should have come earlier, but he was hoping one of the others would, and he has been busy trying to push Intergang out of New York (and fighting giant robots, among other things). Illyana told him a bit about Spartan, and he is curious and vaguely concerned about the ancient alien super-robot, so he arrives to the scrap yard flying, thinking in going straight for the buried spaceship when he spots the spider-like machine. Seems digging is not going to be necessary, after all. Coming closer to where Spartan is working, he greets with a, “good morning, looks like you have been busy.”

"I don't sleep." says the remarkably human voice in perfect English. "It's one of the benefits of no longer being all fleshy like." he purses his lips in an expression of consternation, "Still occasionally feel hungry and the need to use a bathroom though. It was disconcerting the first time I fumbled about looking fo-" he stops, eyes Nate, "Well, you get the idea." he pulls out the car's engine block with a hand and casually sets it aside, where it thuds a good three inches into the hard packed earth upon impact. "What can I do for you Mr. Grey?" he asks amiccably. This is not the slightly socially awkward bumbling alien robot Yana said she met, it seems remarkably ... normal.

Maybe too much information, although Spartan stating he was ‘flesh’ once is interesting. “Good question. Actually I am not sure. I came here because, well, we had part on awakening you and we have not notified the local authorities, so I guess that makes our team responsible in part of whatever you do here. We don’t know much about you... are you going to repair your ship?” All this work seems to hint he is up to building something.

Spartan pauses in his motions, and this time his robotic nature is made patently obvious. Nothing living can go that still. Involentary breathing occurs, the pulse of blood beneath the surface causes minute motions of limbs, the wind causes eyes to dry and blink, nerves send microscopic messages to various muscle fibers, telling them to remain still which they do by fluctating in rapid succession like hummingbird wings. All of this, unseen by the conscious mind, is always seen none the less. But for that moment, when he stills, Spartan is STILL, devoid of movement, of life, he is as dead as the scrap around him. His eyes suddenly glow and a lancing beam of energy slags the steel in his hands into white hot liquid as he slowly passes his lethal gaze up along the car, splitting it lengthwise, "We-I crashed here before your species left it's original continent, before this land was not only discovered, but populated. For millenia I've been unaware, sleeping, trapped, and I awaken to this." he holds up the base frame of the old muscle car in a hand, "I'm not sure I'm capable of reparing Void with this... scrap." he tosses the frame aside. "Imagine it this way. I am going to smash your IPhone Mr. Grey, not with this pot of beef and mushroom stew and a paperback Twilight book as your raw materials, repair it."

Nate grins, “I knew a guy that would be able to do it,” smile vanishes. Forge has been dead almost six months. “But the junk here is hardly the best tech this world has. You would need to check with Reed Richards or Tony Stark, or Star Labs. Or... you are not the only alien in the Earth, either.” But that is not what he came here to talk about. “Anyway, your ships was there for thousands of years, do you know what happened to the rest of the crew?” He said ‘we’ so there were others.

Spartan tosses the other half of the frame aside in an irritated manner this time, "I spoke with Stark's personal assistant, he was... to busy." his tone suggests anger at being set aside so casually. "I was headed for the Latverian Embassy when I decided that was a bad idea. Your scientists, they are... gifted, but even they are merely decades ahead of their time, decades." he sighs, "And they are not the sort of men willing to merely see to an appointment. I also considered blasting a hole in the Baxter Building, that apparently is a more efficient means of meeting Richards."

Blasting a hole in the Baxter Building is what Nate would do if he is being ignored and has something important to say, so Spartan is not getting a comment about it being a bad idea. “I guess you might be are staying for a while,” he decides, “it is not too bad here, at least when compared with what could be. I am not a native myself, I came from another Earth last summer.”

Spartan nods his head and waves a hand in Nate's direction, "You're matter's vibrational frequency is incorrect for this dimension, I figured that out when I first came from the ship." he eyes Nate, "You didn't come here to wax philosophic about my ship or my plight however." he says as he turns back to the car and energy beams once more cut a large chunk of the car away, "What did you come to talk to me about?"

Actually yes, Nate came here mostly to see what Spartan was doing. “Vibrational frequency, right,” he mutters. “I came here to see what you were up to, mostly. I am also interested to know if the Intergang has been back. They were the thugs we were fighting when you awakened. They are a strange gang of cultists with high tech weapons, one of the many secret organizations that seem to be struggling for power in this America. They are particularly crazy.”

Spartan nods his head, "I have parused a few of their darknet websites. Your law enforcement should do something about them, but they seem woefully out matched." he says this before tossing a bit more scrap aside as the robot, continuing it's duty, fetches more metal for whatever project the robot is going to use it on. Heaven only knows. "None of them have returned, and I am attemping to-what is the phrase? Repair my ship with spit and baling wire?"

“Yeah, normal police is outgunned. That is why SHIELD and the Justice League exist,” comments Nate. “And our group too. All of us have seen how these secret organizations, business and agencies are trying to turn the world in a nightmarish place where they are the big guys and the rest are victims.”

Spartan turns to eye Nate for a moment, "You are, I presume, unsanctioned by your government?"

“Right, pretty sure the government is compromised,” explains Nate. “Also, there are hundreds of governments in this world, some of them are autocracies led by lunatics that somehow have legal rights due to political and financial interests. Our reach is global and we probably will have to break some local laws to do the right thing.”

Spartan pauses at this and turns to face Nate fully, apparently deciding he's done with the car, "Finally." he says with a slow and heavy sigh. "I have been awake for weeks, and for weeks I've scowered your informational databases seeking anything that made an inkling of sense and I have found nothing. You are all mad, suicidal, fractious, madmen. You /know/ you are not alone in the universe, that there are dangers out there beyond your imaginings, that things roam your skies with abandon and haunt your depths with cavalier disregard for your societies and yet... you fight amongst yourselves like Gamorean cave flies over a rotting carcass, killing one another to glut on the rancid meat that will inevitably kill you anyway." he sighs. "Finally one of you speaks sense." he seems relieved by this.

Nate hahs, leaning against an old wreck of a truck, “outsider perspective? But no, there is plenty of criticism at the current state of affairs among the population, and the desire to change the status quo for the better. Just also plenty of inertia and greed. And things are going fairly well in America. The people has enough safety and peace to work, grow, have families and enjoy life. Most prefer not to know how fragile is this peace is. How much it depends on a few succeeding in protecting them.”

Spartan's face hardens a bit, "Truth is truth, it matters little how much we wish it to be something it is not, it ignores us and our wishes every bit as stubbornly as it ignores our attempts to change it. What is, is, and should be confronted and dealt with as such. The weak seek shelter in lies and untruth, the weak seek to hide from their duties in absent luxuries. I believe your Darwin had theories about such weakness." he turns back to the car frame. "I was a soldier before you know. I fought a war for over a thousand of your years against an implacable foe. I have seen that look on others before, I know what you have come here for. You are a recruiter."

Nate blinks. He is what? Nooooo. He is the guy that likes to do things by himself. On the other hand, that is also the attitude of his team mates. Weird they all ended up working together. “I don’t know, maybe. I suppose I do want to see more people, more warriors, helping us with this... plan. Right now we seem to be unable to do half the things we want to do.”

Spartan finishes with the car and then returns to facing Nate, flicking a bit of molten metal from his leg with an armored finger, "What do you need?"

Nate frowns. That is a tricky question. It takes him half a minute to consider the answer. “Mostly information, investigators. We have a sorceress and I am a telepath, and yet our targets manage to hide pretty well. Actually most have been hiding for decades, so it should be no surprise. But we can’t limit ourselves to be reactive. We should hunt them down and attack them, not just defend when they are ready to strike.”

Spartan nods his head, "You need infrastructure, an intelligence network, you need agents, power, and for the love of the Royals did you say sorceress?" he shakes his head, "You will need computing power, techs, trai-" he stops and eyes Nate. "You need advanced technologies and someone who knows how to use them." he says after a moment.

Nate smirks at Spartan. “Sure, all that might be useful. But really, all our enemies have access to technology and know how to hide from it.” Magic and telepathy? Not so much. Still, progress has been slow. But it is perhaps because they are all young and bad at working together.

Spartan barks a laugh at that, "I've seen the technology on your planet. They can't hide from me." he says with a small shake of his head and another smile. "The Kherans develop superior technology to what you possess by their third term in what you call grade school."

“Not me, I never had a chance to go to school,” protests Nate, a self-deprecating smirk in his lips. “If you can find them through high tech, then I definitely want to recruit you. Would you help? This is going to be your home for a while too.”

Spartan turns to look down at the hole a few yards away, and then back at Nate, "You should know what you are asking." he says simply. "I am not an artificial intelligence, I am the biometric brain scan of a genetically engineered millenia year old warrior. I am a soldier. Not a hero. If you have need of a soldier I would be happy to help. One can only repair bulkheads for so long before boredom becomes an issue."

“So you are alive? Good to know,” but really, not that important. Nate smiles, “I rather if you wanted to help out of a sense of justice, but I am never bored.” Then again, he is easily amused. “And I am not sure we are heroes. I am still not sure what makes a hero. We are going to break laws, that is not very heroic, is it?” He shakes his head and sighs. “Come by Roberto’s penthouse, we use it as meeting place,” he gives the address, “we will bring you up to date. And welcome to the Stormwatch.”

Spartan nods his head at that, "I will bring up a suitable intelligence packet of what I can glean from a cursory search of your internet as a means of introduction." he turns to look back at the hole, "Humble beginnings." he says almost distractedly. "But at least it's a start. I will see you there Mr. Grey."