6838/Large Leak, Very Dangerous

Large Leak, Very Dangerous
Date of Scene:	07 July 2021
Location:	Lincoln Tunnel, New York City/New Jersey
Synopsis:	Though it was a very dangerous situation, the Vision and Michael under his guise of the Red Sentinel were able to seal the breach in the Lincoln Tunnel before it got too terribly out of hand - nonetheless, additional work and the pumping out of a good deal of river water will need to occur before the tunnel can be actively used again. Which will make traffic even worse. Lovely.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Vision

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    LINCOLN TUNNEL -- 3:45PM

    Traffic is always terrible in the city, but it's especially unbearable in the Lincoln Tunnel. One of the busiest roadways in the country, it's said, one hundred twenty thousand cars or more passing through every single day from Weehawken to Manhattan and back again. In the middle of the afternoon the tidal forces of the city pull that traffic out of the island back toward Jersey, and packed in a straw of concrete and steel, hundreds of people sit packed in cars and trucks locked in the slow ebb of the evening drive home.

    One of them is Michael Erickson, or at least, the being who calls himself that. Seated behind the wheel of a rental car, he's meant to be heading out into Seacaucus for a client meeting. Instead, he's stuck behind the wheel of the late-model Avalon wondering why human-made ground cars always look like they're going to eat you with their giant radiator grills. The traffic report and news is on the radio, but he's largely tuned it out; he knows what goes on. Sit, beep, mutter, move ten feet, repeat. On and on until freedom. Why High Command never fit his armor with a teleporter, he'll never know.

Vision has posed:
Vision never uses automobiles or other modes of conventional transportation. In part, that's simply because he does not need them, but he's also conscious of his carbon footprint. While he understands that true ecological restoration will require radical systemic change, doing small parts to reduce his own consumption nonetheless prevents any accusations of hypocrisy on his part.

Also, traffic jams are unpleasant things.

And so the Vision flies, currently invisible, above the traffic in the tunnel. He had merely been commuting overhead, but the sight of the backup lead him to investigate further, in case there was an accident or other emergency that might require his assistance.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Alas, carbon footprints are deep in the tunnel, though the flying android bravely pushes away the forces of hypocrisy as he does. Michael? He's just a spy. A visitor, and a nosy one. He's not going to weigh in on the ecological condition of the world and how could he anyway BECAUSE ALL THIS TRAFFIC IS MAKING HIM INSANE --

    Far ahead, suddenly, the sound of muted thunder; muted at first, that is, though it swiftly reverberates down the length of the tunnel toward where the protagonists travel. A horrible sound: groaning metal, cracking concrete. Somewhere down the length of the tunnel, a catastrophic structural failure is developing.

Vision has posed:
Vision frowns as his external sensors inteprret the noise for what it is. He knows all too well the fundamental inattention to infrastructure that continues to cause such incidents across the nation. That doesn't completely mean there's no foul play at hand - such vulnerabilities are easy to exploit for those of a craven and opportunistic nature.

He increases his speed, putting out a signal on various wavelengths, "Impending structural failure in the Lincoln Tunnel. Rapid response preferred," he says, making sure to put it on the Avengers bands and the police emergency signals as he increases his speed, flying rapidly into the danger zone to see what he can do to help.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Thirty years he's lived in New York City, and thirty years he's wondered if this was going to happen. Now. At rush hour. Hours. Whatever. Fate has a distinctly literary sensibility. He does not hear the Vision's words over radio signals; he doesn't have to in order to understand what's going down. And so the man in the suit opens the door of the car, and what comes out isn't a man at all - an armored figure, chunky plates and exaggerated pauldrons surrounding its otherwise humanoid shape, emerges from the Toyota sedan, like something from the sci-fi cartoons of the 1980s. Without hesitation it jumps onto the next car, alighting upon its roof, and starts half running and half vaulting towrad the site of impending disaster.

    Up ahead, people are getting out of their cars, running back toward Manhattan as best they can. Instant pandemonium. For ahead of them, a little beyond the halfway mark toward Jersey, a twelve-foot crack has opened up on the roof of the tunnel; electric lights begin to gutter as a sheet of water begins to hiss down out of the breach, and the Hudson comes to say hello.

Vision has posed:
Vision overcomes the lack of illumination, rapidly projecting light from his holographic projectors in order to illuminate the area. "Please evacuate the area calmly. Leave your motor vehicles behind and walk to safety." he says in an enhanced volume.

His computer mind rapidly analyzes the structural weakness, turning his body momentarily intangible as he approaches, the water passing harmlessly through him. Then he begins to fire off a laser beam from his forehead, trying to melt and reseal over the crack as best he can.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Now Michael is a champion-grade runner, and his people have a stamina that stands titanic compared to the humans fleeing eastward around his feet as he vaults from rooftop to rooftop - but he can't fly, and so Vision is ready makong good progress melting together the crack by the time he arrives. Faceless, the mask of his helmet sweeps the scene for a moment, Shi'ar-engineered PentaVision granting him a combination of scanning modes. The crack, flash-melted and vitrefied closed on the Vision's end, slowly spreading on the other. Satsav'ii tanash/, he mutters to himself, and draws from his belt a matte-black, bulging pistol that looks more like a movie prop than any sidearm.

    << ATTENTION, I AM HERE TO HELP. >> The voice that escapes the helmet's annunciators is an androgynous, metallic growl. << CONTINUE YOUR LABOR. >> With that he holds the pistol upward in both armored hands, training it on the other side of the crack and letting his inbuilt targeters guide his hand. A blue-white beam of energy, perhaps the thickness of a pencil, is emitted that strikes the breached concrete and begins to apply a similar weld with the heat of hydrogen plasma.

Vision has posed:
Vision isn't familiar with the strange hero at first, but a quick perusal of the internet gets the news feeds and collates different photographs to find a match for the armored figure in front of him. Red Sentinel, heroic adventurer, origins unknown, identity unknown.

"Red Sentinel, I thank you your assistance," Vision says in his refined voice, the beam from his forehead taking one end of the crack as Sentinel's plasma gets the other, the two moving towards each other to meet in the middle.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Ah. Someone who remembers. Well, one assumes and android would if none other. << I LIVE TO SERVE. >> A simple reply, drummed into him for years in the Imperial military cadres. Service before survival. Then roots aren't quite so heroic, but the spirit sustains him.

    Presently the crack is sealing nicely, but as they grow to meet the middle, more water begins to pour out of what is swiftly becoming a much smaller point of exit. << STRUCTURAL PRESSURES INCREASING, >> the Sentinel warns, most likely needlessly. << LET US BE SWIFT ARE CAREFUL. >> The beam emitting from the armored fighter's weapon brightens with intensity, and clouds of hot steam roil across the roof of the tunnel as the water vaporizes amid their combined toil.

Vision has posed:
Vision could likely learn a great deal about this mysterious hero by extending his own sensors towards him. But he does not. Vision understands that humans place great value on their privacy and, if an identity is hidden, he should leave it so, no matter what his curiosity. He must act respectfully towards other sentient beings.

He nods in agreement, "The steam will not harm me and I presume neither will it harm you. If my calculations are correct, we should manage in time, if only just. Provided we are not interrupted."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Yes, snoops are usually not welcome, especially if they're fellow heroes - and while he has far less in the way of such compunctions due to the nature of his assignment, Michael has absolutely /no/ doubt that the Vision could likely detect such intrusion on his own part at this range, and has equally no desire to stare that freight train in the face. << AGREED, >> he simply replies, and soon laser and plasma beam meet in the center, their combined efforts leaving a sealed breach and a thick scar of vitrefied concrete to mark the occasion.

    The Sentinel stands there for a long moment, staring at the seal. Gauging pressure, material strength. Waiting for a leak to begin. But as for the moment, nothing.

Vision has posed:
Vision does the same, his complex computer brain considering all the implications, "This should hold for the short term, but significant work should be put in to protecting all of the infrastructure in this tunnel. I'll notify the relevant authorities and have the Avengers issue a strongly worded request for action directed at lawmakers."

He turns and inclines his head, "Thank you for your assistance. I likely would not have succeeded in time on my own."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << I DOUBT THIS, >> replies the Sentinel honestly. << BUT I APPRECIATE YOUR GRACIOUS THANKS. THANK YOU, TOO, FOR BEING HERE TODAY. >> Especially since he knows - he /knows/ - that he would not be able to pull it off himself. Not at all the way he wants to go out for the people of this planet, if he had to choose. But here he is, the glorious Vision, and a thought strikes him; the armored figure turns to look up at the synthetic messiah, head tilted for just a moment.

    << I SAW SOMEONE LIKE YOU BEFORE, >> the Sentinel says. << A GIRL. DO YOU HAVE A FAMILY? >> Strange way to phrase it, but it isn't as though the Vision is the only synthezoid in the galaxy, intelligent or otherwise. Perhaps the machine can breed.

Vision has posed:
Vision hesitates for a moment. He is very protective of her, after all. But then she has chosen to be in the world and he cannot expect her to be hidden from it. "Yes. I have a daughter," he says. "And other kinds of extended family, as well, but my daughter is the one you most likely have met. She is very willful but I am proud of her for doing her best to help others. Even if she doesn't always do as I say," he says with a slight smile.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << CHILDREN ARE LIKE THIS. >> A laugh emits from the helmet, gruff and snarling. Batman would be proud. << FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND SHE IS A NOBLE SORT. CONGRATULATIONS. >> This said, he hesitates, at least just a moment. In truth, he probably would find better company with this thinking, feeling machine than among the everyday humanity that he lives with - but no. For now, instead, he executes a short bow, showing goodly flexibility in all that apparently powered mail.

    << I WILL REMAIN TO MONITOR THE SITUATION A BIT LONGER, >> he informs the Vision. << PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE YOUR BUSINESS. I THANK YOU. >> After all, no way he's dropping the layers of holographic disguise that masks the /actual/ apperance of his armor with the Vision anywhere nearby.

Vision has posed:
Vision can likely detect the presence of the holograms but, again, he would not intrude on the privacy of a fellow hero. Especially one that just selflessly helped him avert a potential disaster. He inclines his head in thanks again.

"The authorities should arrive shortly to help. I will make sure the civilians are fully evacuated before I depart. Thank you for your assistance. And...for your words about my daughter. She does me proud," he says, shifting to intangibility again before he starts to move back down the tunnel to move the people along.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    And now, he is alone. Stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel. In a steam bath. This planet. This town. He certainly has marched across many worlds in the service of the Empire, but never does he imagine that such random and dramatic crossings as this would ever have been encountered as a simple soldier. Truly, living on this planet is the best time he's ever going to have.

    You know. Unless someone blows it up. Which could happen.