Some time later, Omen is back in her sanctuary. The Compiler had left a spacecraft here, tucked away inside the mountains beyond the city limits, nestled within one of its many tunnels and hidden from mundane notice with camouflage. Within this craft was her Personal Intelligent Learning Oversight Tool, or P.I.L.O.T., the artificial intelligence that operated the now-flightless craft. He was represented by a small glowing hologram - a sphere of sorts with a type of lens on the front and lines of circuitry all over - that would float about the room and glow when he spoke. His voice sounded more like a gentle, vibrating hum. He now floated around the weather-changing device, scanning it for whatever could be found.
Ollie sat nearby, her hood pulled down and her supersuit removed down to the waist with a dark undershirt beneath it. She was leaning forward in a small chair, her arms propped up on her knees as she flipped through pictures on her phone. Cammy... Xavier... Jenn... Rama... Adam. Emma...
Ollie bit her lip.
"You don't have to wait here, you know." P.I.L.O.T. hummed.

Ollie clicked a few buttons on her phone and had her thumb hovering over the next one.
"Shut up," she said in as friendly a way as she could,
"I know that."
"Are you going to go play with your friends?"
Why'd he have to make it sound so stupid, she thought.
"No, they're not.." She started, hesitating.
"...Your friends?" Omen didn't reply.
"I seem to recall them being very kind to you today. Is that not what friends do?"
Yeah, but I was kind of an ass...
"We're just teammates. They talked to me to get me back into the fight and get my head in the right place to beat Santa Muerte." Ollie stared down at her phone at the big letters that read back to her
"Call Emma".
"Ah, yes, you really needed your 'head in the right place' AFTER the fight when Jennifer told you that you did well." P.I.L.O.T. replied, unconvinced. Ollie immediately regretted demonstrating sarcasm to him.

Her finger hovered over the call button for a moment before she flipped her phone closed and pocketed it,
"They're... probably busy training, or something." She then got to her feet, stretched her arms and stepped over to the device, asking,
"How can I help?"

P.I.L.O.T. only mumbled,
"Hopeless.."OOC:
Marking Doom Track since I didn't make any progress toward defeating the Compiler. :)
Last edited February 13, 2017 1:29 pm