Welcome to Gaia! ::

They entered the hotel room. The two men were seated on twin chairs, looking slightly mistrustfully at Tiki, who was looking out the window wistfully. When the two doctors came in, he turned back towards them and nodded at the couch.

Everyone seated but Tiki, Connor began. "I'm Doctor Connor. I used to work at the labs, though now I'm...well, on the run. Like you, I suspect." He glanced at the case, then at the men. "Care to introduce yourselves?"

St. Cyrill was about to respond with a grumpy, "No," since he didn't want to be here, but he realized at the last minute that he needed to make this work. He swallowed and said, "Ex-Commander John St. Cyrill."

"Richard McMullard," McMullard added, falling silent. The pistol in its concealed-carry holster inside his belt was like cool steel comfort. Just in case, really; they were still fugitives from the law.

Somehow, it seemed inevitable, really. The fugitive thing. Once marked, always marked.

"Yes yes, introductions are fine," Connor slid in smoothly. "To business, please. You men say you have information on the PEACE. We'd like to have it, if that's quite all right." He smiled expectantly.

Since Madeline couldn't be polite to the others (apparently that took too much time), she waited for the GM to provide information.

Tiki went back to staring out the window. It appeared that he either didn't care or had the attention span of a child, but in reality his mind worked differently than the others in the room. Sure, he was worried. There was another being living inside of his body and it could kill him at any time. If it didn't, then the people hunting him to take it would. Tiki, however, was the kind of man who took what life gave, accepted it, and continued onward. This was no different; if he couldn't get rid of this being, why worry? That wouldn't make it any better.

Plus, the sunshine was always something nice and calming. He was enjoying the warmth.

Meanwhile, Dr. Connor was rubbing his face. "I see...so then all those that have been affected are, at this point, unable to be cured, or fixed, or whatever?" He was silent for some time. "How recent is this information?" St. Cyrill signalled that it was two weeks old. The doctor groaned. "This is so hard, not having access to my own sources." He took some of the papers and began to scan them, allowing the others time to ask questions.

"It appears," St. Cyrill growled, "that by fulfilling certain 'conditions' of their power - conditions which vary infinitely based on who's affected, what the power is, etc. - then the power is activated by the PEACE and granted to the host."

"I don't think it's intentional," St. Cyrill said. "Hence the conditions. You see? You do a certain condition, and the PEACE is forced to comply."

Something struck Connor as he read. "Wait! You mean like with Tiki!" The military men were confused, so Connor took his pen. He held it before their eyes before he stabbed it into his own hand. He grimaced as blood swelled out and said with obvious pain, "Tiki...kiss it better?"

St. Cyrill was almost disgusted and McMullard seemed about to laugh, but Tiki's mouth soon began to glow golden. With a mute groan and much eye rolling, he stepped forward and put his mouth to the wound. It healed immediately, the wound sealing in less than three seconds.