The (New) Berlin Philharmonic has been rebuilt and restored to serve its new patrons. Much of the building's original Twentieth Century architecture has been retained, with only minor changes to the interior layout and the addition of modern lighting and sound systems. Two-thirds of the original human-sized seats have been replaced with ones more comfortable for the average reploid, with several rows of extra-capacity seats in the back of the theater. All sections are open to the public for the funeral, save Box 5, Dr. Doppler's personal box, which has been left empty.

Normally a place of music and pageantry, the Philharmonic has become a place of mourning. On center stage lies a gray metal coffin draped with the Coalition flag and adorned with dark red roses. More flower arrangements and wreaths stand on pedestals behind the coffin, and a podium has been set up to the right.

(OOC: for all of you with E-Senses that no doubt are going to ask. Yes, there is a body in the coffin. Sensor readings are inconclusive, as the person inside is dead, but strongly suggest the person was a cyborg. Anyone with an enhanced sense of smell that gets close to the coffin will notice the roses are real and that there are traces of Dr. Doppler's scent in and on the casket.)

<Global News Network> It is a sad day in history, for the esteemed father of all reploids is now dead. The funeral services for Doctor Sigmund Doppler, having recently passed on to a far better place, are going to commence shortly. Whether it be to pay your respects, or to find out if he's really dead, the gates of Berlin are open to all today. (Seen on most news networks)

Scribe Robin continues to cry, behind the scenes.

Bolero remains silent, watching the place curiously. This doesn't look very... funeral-y to him. Of course, this is a funeral courtesy of Sigma for Doppler. Bolero narrows his eyes slightly, curiosity continuing to keep him rooted to his seat. Whatever's going on, this promises to be a night not to be forgotten. The Spaniard feels like he was built suspicious, but that's as not necessarily true as Doppler's death. He'll hold judgement on both until he finds evidence of both.

More Mavericks enter the hall, mostly in small groups, sometimes alone. A pall has been cast over the city, particularly today. Most of them are wearing black armbands as a sign of mourning - aniform reploid forms don't exactly lend themselves to wearing black suits and ties.

Her fears of the great war temporarily subsided, despite her location in Maverick-held Berlin, Hailstorm Eagle is seated in one of the chairs, wings folded tightly around her body. She stares down at the casket, pondering the nature of death. Even though this is Sigmund Doppler, she sheds minimal tears.

Autofire Ankylosaurus makes his way in, the ankylosaur taking up a lot of room... not that he's any taller than the average Reploid, but he's much more wide. His right arm is bedecked with a blank armband, and the curiously unarmed Autofire looks morose. And why should he not?

"Evening, waiter."

"What a marvellous joke."

"I know, and it just sort of came to me."

"Where are you going?"

"In there, my good man."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're not."

This is cutting down on valuable reading time, you know. Still, kicking people out of the funeral before even walking in gives Gravity Beetle a spectacular sense of power. Hey, he's been rebuilt as a walking junkheap, he needs all the self-esteem boosts he can get. His black armband is being used to plug a leak in a protruding oilpipe. He would grin lopsidedly, as usual, and possibly even giggle, but he seems to have been onyl built with one mouthpiece and the laughter sounds like a loud clicking. So he just clicks a lot, basically.

As the service slowly gets under way, a large figure in an all-encompassing brown, gritty cloak steps in, all of his face, save his eyes, enshrouded by a hood and it's shadows. Peering about, he methodically steps down one of the aisles, taking a seat in the middle row. A mysterious sort it seems, but this is an open service, is it not?

Scribe Robin cries some more. He's either a good actor, a crybaby, or Doppler is really dead.

Bolero becomes stupefied by O-Repliforce chatter and falls into the rut of simply looking around, suspicious of everything.

Tengu Man continues making his way through the crowd, attracting the occasional stare, of course. He passes by the coffin, leering at it down the length of his nose. (I don't believe it. Not for a second. Liars, all of 'em...)o.

Mender Heron, a taller reploid known to be a part of MavBerlin's MSE division, climbs the short flight of stairs to the stage, making his way to the podium. He tucks his wings behind him, looking around at the assembled crowd.

Magic Man strides into the area, wearing his typical magician's armour. While this might normally be taken as a sign of hostility, Magic Man's armour is fashioned in a rather striking dark blue suit with a large red bow-tie. His armour is hardly that, as well. The Robot Master steps along towards the area and takes a seat near the back to avoid drawing attention to himself. He leans his cane against his chair as if he actually needed its support. The magician's expression is that of a grim, sad look, but Magic Man still manages to convey a sense of confidence and a regal air surrounds him. Magic Man clasps his white gloved hands together, apparently out of respect for the subject of the funeral. Whether it's real or not is virtually impossible to tell given his acting skills. But logic would probably indicate it is false, and you'd be right. Magic Man is glad Doppler is dead. If he really is. The Robot Master sighs and waits for the line to get shorter before going up to the stage himself.

Scribe, noticing that things aren't going to get to the making a speech part soon, proceeds out from behind the scenes through the back exit, circling back around and taking a seat somewhere.

Autofire Ankylosaurus passes the casket, his great head hung low. He is not a Maverick to show a lot of unecessary emotion, but his narrowed little ornithscian eyes are about as close to tears as they'll ever come. He mumbles some benediction under his breath, something really poetic and kind that his player doesn't have the eloquence to write at the moment, then makes his way to a seat, keeping his club-tail in check, being very careful that this funeral doesn't turn into Julie Dwyer's from Clerks.

Hailstorm Eagle's left wing twiches, and she finds herself seated next to one of the others. Scribe Robin. Noting the tear trails of greater magnitude than her own, she offers him a long, sympathetic stare. "... ... ..."

Scribe Robin sobs quietly, not noticing the eagle's stare of sincerety.

Mender Heron waits patiently behind the podium while the others pay their private respects. It's not like anyone is here to hear him speak, after all.

Yes, they aren't here to hear him speak, they're here to hear Scribe speak!

The mysterious Browncloaked man simply watches from his seat, peering about at the mourning Mavericks, as well as the undisguised Magic, before shaking his head a bit and straightening back up in his seat. Whether it's for disbelief, disgust, sadness, etc., that's seems to be questionable.

Magic Man finally takes his turn to pass by the casket. He eyes it carefully as he leans on his cane for support and nods as if he actually cared about this Dr. Doppler, or at the very least respected him. In truth, of course, an enemy is an enemy, and a dead enemy is one that can't hurt you. Again, assuming Doppler is really dead, which he isn't, yadda yadda, so forth and so forth. Once done, he returns to his seat near the back to watch the rest of the show.

Hailstorm Eagle softly places a hand on Scribe's shoulder. "You were close to him, weren't you .. ?" she asks softly.

Sigma closes his eyes, nodding to himself slowly, soon it will begin, and he isn't sure what to say. What -would- he say at his father's funeral? ... Odd. Not often for him to be at a loss for words. Supressing himself for the moment, Sigma raises his head, leaning forward slightly, studying intently.

Tengu Man is here too, y'know! Undisguised! Begging to be noticed, practically. Oh well.

Needlenose leaves the immediate vicinity of the casket, scowling. Nope. No way. Not true. Don't believe it for a second. He doubles back, attempting to find a seat -- somewhere in the back, of course.

Bolero sits still, contemplating the situation carefully. There's something off with this whole scenario, but what it is has yet to be uncovered. The Spaniard peers at Sigma, a brow arching curiously. Bolero then spots Brown-Cloak, his brow arching again. This might just be an intriguing evening.

Scribe Robin nods absently as Hailstorm puts a hand on his shoulder, still crying softly. "I just can't believe he's... gone... *sob*" Scribe, for his high intellegence and charisma, has trouble with emotions.

Serges remains seated, His hat on his knees and a black armband on his right arm. His cane under his left arm as he starts to watch the proceedings and less of the people who are attending this solom ceremony.

Gravity Beetle is... GOOD GRIEF! HE'S NOT AT THE DOOR!

"Two extra large please, no onions."

Sigma apparently paid no expense getting the catering for this funeral. Yeah, roadside tuck shop fare. Burgers the size of dinner plates. Nothing better.

2hey, mac, how're you gonna eat that anyway? You don' got no mouth."

A small jaw on a tentacle extends from Gravity's knee and begins eating the onionless burgers. While he was eating, Necron Snake, Static Sheep and Venom Starfish snuck inside. Hilarity will ensue.

"*burp*"

Once the procession in front of the coffin ends and just about everyone has a seat (or stands, depending on preference), Mender Heron clears his throat. Why out of everyone he was chosen to do this, he still isn't sure. Probably because they were looking for someone who had served under the doctor. Or perhaps he was just in the right place at the right time. Either way, he stands up straight, frowning as much as his beak can manage the expression. "Good evening."

Scribe Robin breaks out into sobs anew at this.

Magic Man makes a note to stay the Hell away from Scribe.

Hailstorm Eagle isn't immune to the emotions herself, and is finding tear marks on faceplate and wings from time to time. "Believe it, there's no way to undo it--" She stops and faces Mender as he begins to speak. Scribe's sobs cause her to cry a little more. Inwardly she wonders, .o(Why do I cry for Sigmund Doppler's death? I barely know him, and even then just as the founder of the CRF...)

Browncloak stares on, seemingly unmoven by it all. Scribe's sobbing does manage to catch his attention though, garnering yet another headshake before the mysterious figure's gaze returns to the Heron on stage, waiting for the inevitable eulogy.

Mender Heron says, "Brothers and sisters of the Coalition, esteemed colleagues, honored guests. We are gathered here this evening to honor the life of Dr. Sigmund Jakob Doppler. He was a father to most of us, a teacher to many of us. He was a brilliant scientist, devoted to his work and to the family that came from it. He was a revolutionary of our times, a person who refused to be cowed by his enemies. When the world tried to make reploids slaves to humanity, he refused to follow so-called conventional wisdom and defied the United Nations. He spent the last years of his life fighting against human oppression of reploid-kind. Tonight the Coalition for Reploid Freedom mourns his loss. The rest of the world should mourn as well, for the loss of one of the greatest geniuses of our time."

Magic Man focuses on the Reploid at the front as the service appears to begin. The Robot Master keeps a quiet dignity beside him. This is a time for observing and seeing if anything new is learned about Doppler's 'death'. So, for now, Magic Man stays still and shuts up, continuing to look at the very least sad at Doppler's death.

Bolero narrows his eyes suspiciously, moving quickly and quietly through the crowd towards Brown Cloak. How does he manage this feat? By and large it centers around him acting like he recognizes Brown Cloak and rushing up to meet up with him again. Yes, Brown Cloak has gone and gotten entirely too much attention from Repliforce's only apparent cloak and dagger reploid. Bad move on your part... Mr. Mysterious.

Tengu Man meanwhile takes his seat in the back, causing the Maverick reploid next to him a small amount of discomfort. He crosses his arms and slouches, just like the average teenager. Convention be damned! He scowls at the speaker, idly commenting into his radio.

Scribe Robin breaks into rather audible sobs. Not loud ones yet, but still audible a good distance away.

Hailstorm Eagle attempts to comfort Scribe, draping her wing over his shoulder. "Shhh.... calm down ...." She still sobs slightly herself, however.

Browncloak doesn't notice the disguised Bolero making his way through the crowd. Heck, he doesn't really seem to notice anything, just staring ahead toward the stage as Mender continues on. Of course...I guess a 9 ft. cloaked guy would draw attention anywhere, really...however, as before, he doesn't seem to notice that he's been spotted, marked, and approached.

Sigma glances towards Scribe Robin and Hailstorm in particular. He blinks his eyes a couple times. Man, they are really taking it hard aren't they? He leans forward. Well, even while knowing the truth, Sigma is rather upset himself. Shaking his head slightly, Sigma looks up as Mender Heron speaks. Damn, that's a nice speech. Quaint. He'll have to outdo it somehow. Still, he glances back to Scribe again. It had to be done this way, Sigma explains to himself regretfully before mentally prepping himself.

Beneath the stoic librarian facade, beneath the indifference the Maverick Virus provides, Scribe is an emotionalist at his core. He cried when that ship was wrecked in the Bermuda Triangle. He cried when that huge storm hit Mexico City, and his comrades were captured. And now, he cries. And finally, it becomes too much for him. His systems, going through intense emotional shock, shut themselves down to avoid overloading. In human terms, he cries himself to sleep. And so Scribe, slumping back against his chair, closes his eyes.

Bolero peers at Brown Cloak, "Heya Buh-Uddy." he calls, in a Pauly Shore voice. I think we've just hit the major hitch to Doppler's funeral. Pauly Shore respawned.

Autofire Ankylosaurus looks at Scribe, sympathizing, though he doesn't have that depth of feeling... or does he. AA sniffles slightly.

Tengu Man just rolls his eyes at the sucker up front. (Jeez.)o.

Hailstorm Eagle can only stare at Scribe as he cries himself to sleep. Saying nothing herself, she keeps a wing around him, poor robin. Holding back a heavier sob of her own, she still tries to find her reason to mourn.

Gravity Beetle is still standing outside.

"I love roadside truck shop food. I'm almost glad Sigma's such a skinflint."

Meanwhile, inside...

"Hey, we found the bar!

""Would ya look at this buffet?"

"And we're the first ones here by far... hey, grapes! Out of my way!"

The goon Squad found the massively expensive and lavish buffet room by accident. There's even copious amount of pie! Boy, this funeral had better be over soon, or they'll wind up eating everything...

Mender Heron continues, "Emperor Sigma has asked to give the eulogy for his father. Emperor? By your leave..." With that, the medic steps aside to make room, somehow managing not to trip over his two feet in the process.

The measured pace of one more coming to observe the funeral can be heard, Prismatic Spider arriving from the nearby teleporters as the funeral begins. Clothed in a black suit and tie, the unusually formally-dressed Spider Scientist takes a place at the back of the crowd. While he did not agree with Doppler's opinions on many things with the rise of the Mavericks, it is the Doctor's work that he owes his existence to. Therefore he is here as well, observing in silence and paying his measured respect to the dead.

Browncloak simply glares at the reploid that seems to be trying to get his attention. His eyes narrow a bit from within his hood, and a slightly muffled voice can be heard from him. "Have you no respect for a funeral?" He says nothing else, turning away and back toward the stage as Sigma steps up for his eulogy.

Magic Man personally thinks Scribe is A) being a complete and utter wimp B) being a surprisingly good actor. Either way, Magic Man is focusing not only on Scribe and Mender, but is attempting to pay attention to everything at once. Any good magician knows that if there's a trick to go off, it'll happen where you're not supposed to be looking. He takes note of Bolero harassing the poor Browncloaked fella. Fool. If Magic Man can hear the voices of the three goons he tangled with nearly a week ago through the walls, he doesn't react to it.

Scribe Robin is in standby mode while his processors try and work through their emotional overload.

Grenade Man strides up the street, looking none too formal or respectful himself as he walks down the street towards the Philharmonic for the funeral. Heck, he's only here because he's decided to tag along with his brothers. Then he sees Gravity Beetle. .oO(...This looks interesting. Not.) He strides over, and somehow manages to keep his volume in check. "Yeh heh! Hey, Bugs Bugsy! Why aren't you inside getting yer servos all wet bawling about Herr Doppler? Haw." That's odd. Is he actually wanting to know?

Hailstorm Eagle finds herself tensing that wing a little, holding Scribe close. She knows pain, she knows loneliness. She tries to keep her attention on the speaker, but her personal search is getting intense.

Sigma is thankfully ignorant of this 'goon squad'. So far, at least, or maybe he's just trying to be a patient fellow. He stands up, nodding to Heron without gazing back to the rest of those present before making his way onto the 'stage'. He thinks about doing something to throw everybody off their feet, but decides against it. He's also, for now, quite ignorant of Grenade Man. Sigma muses. He almost wishes something would disrupt the proceedings. It would be a nice reliever of stress.

Bolero shrugs at Brown Cloak, "Sure I do. I just don't think this is a funeral." he replies calmly, smirking a bit. He observes Ol' Cloaky for a few moments in quiet, before grinning a bit. "Somehow, I don't think you're buying the funeral idea either... Or are you just playing a part assigned you by Sigma?" he inquires, still not sure of Brown Cloak's allegiance, but he's certainly feeling lucky tonight. Maybe he will manage something amusing tonight.

Magic Man can be such a jerk. He leans over towards Bolero and the browncloaked fella and whispers in a respectful tone to the humaform Reploid that's still loud enough for others - including Sigma - "Please, it's difficult to hear the eulogy when you keep talking, good sir. We are trying to pay respects here, not chit-chat." He directs this at Bolero. Yes, he's drawing attention to Bolero's disrupting of the funeral without making himself look like he's part of it. What an actor.

Scribe Robin's logic circuits continue working out their infinite loop.

Ah, conversation at last! Gravity Beetle swallows the last of his burger, and pushes himself off of the leaning position on the wall. Granted, it's a massive walking bomb, but he did just finish reading Bouncers and Gravity has nothing else to do!

The attention span on this kid, honestly...

"Well, Mortarna Max, it's all a matter of comic timing. I'm waiiting for the moment the doc bursts out of the coffin and does a Marilyn Monroe to make my entrance, personally. No point in going in unless something funny is happening... yo, the only stiffs in there are the ones with too much starch in their shirts, in my personal opinion. I'm surprised Doppler's head hasn't sprung off, yet. That's a popular trick among mad scientists faking it, am I right?"

Back in the buffet hall, Necron Snake has found the cheeseboard and the inevitable wine, Static Sheep is trying to plug in what may be a jukebox and Venom Starfish is eating grapes.

Browncloak eyes the disguised Bolero a bit before turning away again. "If it is actors you are looking for, I'd advise you'd start at a theater and quit wasting your time here...I am here to pay respects. That is all." His voice has a particular edge to it, though it might be particular hard to catch with it being muffled.

Thunder Chimera is standing back towards the back of the funeral...apparently the big freak is a bit overwrought. Indeed, Jorge seems absolutely desolate, sniffling into a handkerchief. Scar and Draco are a bit more stoic, but none of Chimera's heads are happy. Especially when he hears people talking during Daddy Doppler's funeral. Jorge keeps sniffling, but Scar and Draco glare furiously at the disruptive elements.

Tengu Man continues slouching in his chair. Scowl and all. Nyaaah!

Bolero misses Brown Cloak's entire speech for the speech he gets from Magic Man. He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Fine, fine. Let's just sit back and act shocked when Doppler tries to make a re-entrance that'll make Wily gasp in geriatric shock." he mutters in reply, a dim glint of deviousness playing across his face. The Spaniard is now cranking, a low mutter seeming to start behind Magic, before it seems someone has leaned close to the Magician's audials, "Hush up, Young'un. We can't hear Emper-Or Sigma's speech, daggumit."

... Yes, Bolero is now making use of his habit of playing around with sonics. Have at it with imaginary people, Magic Man.

Grenade Man gaks and snerks the entire time Grav keeps on about... the truth. He can't help but snicker as he says, "Yeh heh, you, haw, you do realize, hehehe, you've just compromised, heehaw, this entire bit?" He breaks out into cackling, not restraining his voice any further. "Yeh heh heh heh heh! Ya hah! Yeh! Yeh heh heh heh! Heh h..." This goes on for a minute or two before Grenade calms down and finishes, "But you don't seem to care, eh?" He strokes his chin as if digesting this in thought before even recieving a proper answer. And he gives no time before hastily concluding, "I could give you something fun to do, you know. Actually, there's quite a few scenarios that might be nice. Yes, yes indeed. Yeh heh heh heh!... Depending on how twisted your sense...-ed is. Ya."

Prismatic Spider remains sitting quietly, awaiting for the continuation of the funeral. He studiously ignores the talking people, of course... And prepares to discard half of Sigma's speech, as it will not doubt be laden with Maverick leanings. After all, he IS their Emperor, right?

Hailstorm Eagle's gaze cannot stay in one spot. It wanders from the speaker, to the casket, to the back of her own hand, to the Maverick who sits beside her. She's managed to curb her sobbing slightly, but it is still audible to those who pay attention. "He is gone." .o(But why do I care? Because I do. But /why/!? ...) Her eyes shut tightly, her beak clicking together. .o(Because it is death. Death of who? What good was he? ....) They fly open, and she looks down, suddenly holding Scribe tighter. .o(He was someone who created a society for the freedom of Reploids like myself. He could have helped me, if only I'd been under his care. And now .. he is gone.) The sobs grow a little heavier, now that the purpose behind them is clearer than the purest ice to the bearer.

Status report for Scribe Robin:

Subject is in emotional and logic overload. Attempts at activating emergency subroutine 6-J failed, a change in vectors required.

Audial sensors online, scanning for new factors to influence overloaded circuits...

That help ain't going to come from the eagle.

Sigma looks towards Bolero, setting his eyes on him, looking over him as if, well, scanning him over. However, he doesn't speak up to him, instead, raising his hand to the side of his head briefly before dropping it and raising his head, looking over the crowd, slowly immersing himself in the art of Persuasion. Even at a funeral, persuasion is the key. "The loss...", he lets that reverberate, using this to hush the crowds, just a little, so he can be heard, "That we are here to mourn is not a mere loss for the Coalition. Why, not all of us here are members of the Coalition, and to be honest, not all members of the Coalition are here." Sigma lowers his face, focusing his attention on the center grouping of people, "Therefore, despite the loss to our organization that we may never fully recover from, despite this... We must keep in mind that this is not just a loss for us, but to the world." Sigma gazes downward to the Coffin, shaking his head as if disoriented, but mostly just irritated at all the 'games' being played. Sigma wonders if they would do the same thing were it reality. They probably would. He might take some solace in that if Doppler ever truly passes, "Dr. Sigmund Doppler is most noted for the creation of the reploid. All reploids, whether they be Maverick or not, owe their lives to him." Sigma straightens, moving to the side, "Dr. Doppler has also helped bring about many cultural and governmental revolutions for us, as well as helping ensure many of the liberties that most reploids now have. He was one of many Doctors who chose to defy the UN due to his own personal beliefs. Whether they be right or wrong, the value of choice Sigmund embodied is his spirit, his will, and his soul that will move us forward." Sigma pauses, he might just end here, but first to see the reactions...

Metal Man is here why? Is here out of the respect his Father had for Doppler, he now meely sits silently for the moment no trace of emotion visible on his face. Which is Metals form of respect in a way? After all he ain't mocking Doppler at all.

A figure, dressed in a dark cloak, slowly arrives, not taking a seat, just standing there and watching... He merely listens to Sigma, so far keeping his presence as unknown as he can get it.

Magic Man inclines his head to Bolero as the 'humanform Reploid' agrees to shut up and do the surprised-when-Doppler-is-alive idea. The Robot Master leans back in his chair and idly rests his hand on his crystal ball hilted cane, continuing to look about the room just in case the Mavericks are up to something. He's a suspicious fellow. But wait, suddenly Magic Man hears a voice behind him telling him to shut up. The Robot Master blinks behind his comcial red glasses and looks behind him, ready to glare down the offender. Alas, nobody is there. Ah, someone's playing a trick on Magic Man. How quaint. Magic shakes his head and continues to pay attention. Thankfully the magician doesn't start having it at people until he, y'know, looks in their direction. Magic Man is surprised Sigma is letting this go on at the funeral for his father. Regardless, Sigma's words echo in Magic Man's audios and he blinks. This fellow is a good actor. Unless he /is/ dead. Best to assume the worst. Magic Man, for once, actually nods as he does recognize Doppler as a great mind. Rare that Magic shows any hint of his true emotions. He's still happy he's dead, though.

Jorge keeps weeping into his hankie, but Scar and Draco are just glaring at Bolero and the others. The three-headed freak keeps two sets of eyes on Bolero and Magic, looking rather offended.

Tengu Man continues slouching. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, and begins tapping his foot. He begins with a slow rhythm, gradually speeding up. (So? So what? What's the point of all this?)o.

"Hey, he /might/ be dead, I'm just the idiot with a chainsaw welded to his head," replied Gravity Beetle, demonstrating with a whirl. "I just got rebuilt from the ground up. I could be talking more gibberish than the Makara."

Gravity Beetle leans against the wall again, very interested in his raw, metallic arms. If he could grin, he would.

"And I think I'll pass on the concept of 'fun'. Considering it was your equally explosive rook-ie brother who made me the way I am right now, I'm not going to be getting chummy with you any time soon. In fact," he says, cracking his knuckles, "I would like nothing more than to forcefully escort you from the premises if you kick up, shoot up or blow up a fuss. After all, nine out of ten bouncers are just dumb muscle looking for an excuse to get in a punch up..."

Prismatic Spider continues watching Sigma, a serious expression on his face as he is, of course, not surprised of the content. Ever the propagandist, Sigma... But the Maverick Leader did have several important points. Agree or disagree with the man's choices as he will, but there is no denying the man's brilliance.

An idle thought passes through his mind then, as there have been rumors... There are always rumors. .oO(If Doppler is simply faking his death... But he wouldn't do that, would he? Why would he use the tactics Wily has used so often?)

Browncloak simply watches on, watching Sigma intently...though he does keep a close eye on Bolero as the speech wanes on.

Bolero peers at Scar and Draco, shrugging innocently. It's Sigma's gaze that he notices, not so much with his eyes as with that feeling of impending doom. o0(... And another cover blown. I'm going to have to make a lot of new suits...) he notes to himself, before snapping off a tightbeam of sonics to Sigma himself, a slightly despondent look on his face. The Spaniard isn't known overwell for patience, nor for his seriousness, and there is a reason for that. To Bolero, it's easier to make a joke of life and death than it is to take it at face value. The Dark Lord of the Spanish sits calm and attentive, paying his due respects in his own way... That being the loud and strained sounds of a gaseous burst coming from several rows back... Oh look, it's in Prismatic's general area... A lot of people might even mistake it for Prismatic himself.

Scribe's eyes snap open, a strange reddish haze covering them.

Hailstorm Eagle just bows her head, sobbing freely now. Her wing hasn't been removed from Scribe's shoulder. "We have to ... we have to press on... "

Grenade Man rolls his eyes. "Riiiiiiight. So I'm led to believe, Bugsy. Maybe I'll just go see for myself, then." He shifts his eyes for a moment, tapping his foot awkwardly, then starts rapidly for the door. If he can just squeeze in before Gravity.... nothing will have to be blown up. Maybe the beetle won't care. After all, what would be the fun in messing up the funeral if no one cared?

Metal Man oO(Sigma has always been the charasimatic one.) Metal crosses his arms and watches now and almost face palms as he makes out Grenade man in the crowd. oO(Bet he would just love to cook himself off here.)

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Scribe Robin's voice sounds strained. "Would- someone... pleaserestrain-me... ... ... beforeIgoandstrike-downthe... person who causedthat... disturbance..."

[Radio: (B) Mav-Main] Scar Thunder Chimera transmits, "On the contrary, I would like assist you with that."

Magic Man blinks as he can hear the sounds of gaseous bursts coming from Prismatic's direction. Having already been aware that there's a prankster around - that humanform Reploid he got into a discussion with being a suspect - Magic Man doubts that it really is the spider making them. But he is very surprised that the Mavericks haven't kicked the crap out of the individual responsible for insulting Doppler. Things would be different had this been Wily's funeral and someone began acting up. Magic Man shakes his head. Such foolish tricks are truly pathetic.

Squeezing in before Gravity Beetle reaches out to grab you is really an exercise in futility. Note the first name. Gravity. Yep. So, even though Grenade Man zips past him, Gravity Beetle twists around, and a massive field of gravitational energy swims round Grenade Man, in an attempt to freeze him in his tracks. He clicks loudly, unable to generate a massive cackle... you just know trouble is soon on its way.

Gravity Beetle strikes Grenade Man with his Grasp attack.

Scribe Robin shakes slightly, perhaps in grief. Or is that anger?

Autofire Ankylosaurus growls deeply, his eyes glancing at certain members of the audience. This is supposed to be a solemn occurrence... and that's certainly not happening.

Hailstorm Eagle blinks. She can tell Scribe's active again, from that shake. She raises her head, turning to look at him. "Are you alright now .. ?"

Chill Snowcat pads silently into the back of the hall. The feline tries to keep his presence rather low key being that he's a maverick hunter in an area of mavericks. Hopefully the no killing anyone bit lasts long enough for him to see his next birthday.

Prismatic Spider blinks as the noise erupts near him. Which is odd, as he has no equipment to MAKE such a noise. He glances around, optics searching for the source of the sound... But he can't tell... yet.

Sigma is rather surprised. He expected more explosions by now. He gets a message from Bolero and just turns his eyes back to the 'humaform reploid' again. He stares at him with utter gall. Just -gall-. Of course he wouldn't believe it, but that's to be expected. This is, after all, within normal parameters. To be expected, really. He does, however, clench his fists, attempting to keep himself under control. This is Repliforce. Repliforce can't help but be this way. Sigma says, "Pity," simply, "To put so little trust in life and death. I suppose it is to be expected, however. After all, how many times has death proved to be rather inaccurate?" Sigma places a hand to his side, and then recalls the 'gaseous bursts'. Okay, Sigma just failed to keep himself under control. Sigma draws out a hammer, slowly, and says, "However, I am quite willing to ensure that Death isn't entirely deceitful should your idiocy continue, Bolero. Out of respect for these proceedings, I have not killed you yet." Sigma looks like he's about to set fire to everybody in the audience, just to make sure a few get vaporized.

Sigma changes into his Neo Sigma armor.

Grenade Man is frozen in his tracks. "Er, hey... let me go! I just want to see the coffin, jeebus." He wriggles to no avail, being held down by gravity. He gives up and lets himself fall limp, hanging still. If he could he would rest his chin on his arm. Even though it hasn't been very long, this is getting quickly boring.

Jorge jerks away from his hankie, and glares in the direction of Spider, but again Scar and Draco glare at Bolero again. The big three-headed freak shifts in his seat.

Prismatic Spider blinks in surprise. Things just got a lot worse. And as such, he begins communicating...

Finally, Scribe gets his emotions back under control. He realizes that he can't get at whoever caused that noise, since he doesn't have E-senses or anything. However, other people in the room do. Once all this is over he will get all the logs of visual input from all the mavericks at the funeral, piece them all together, and find the culprit. Then he shall find the biggest ride armor he can find, and...

Scribe stops shaking, the red haze leaving his eyes as he turns his head to acknowledge Hailstorm. "Yes, I am all right now. Thank you for helping me get through this..."

Bolero normally isn't this... offensive to the dead, but he's normally quite sure that those for whom the service is being held are quite dead. In this instance, he's none too sure and he's in an unusually giddy mood. Not necessarily over-giddy for him, just overly giddy for the occasion and his recent past. Bolero notes the growing sense of decorum building in the room, suddenly wishing he hadn't brought his normal gear. The Spaniard zips every piece of equipment he has and sits absolutely still, about thirty seconds before Sigma says anything about him, to him, or pertaining to him.

o0(... Note to self: Get self-restraint parameters reinstalled. Further note to self: Stay the hell away from the Spider Scientist for at least a month... Maybe three...) He gulps slightly, peering up at Sigma, "I'll... Just... shut up now..." he squeaks out, taping his mouth shut. Where he got tape from will never be known. It's just there and is busily being applied to his mouth by his own hands.

Browncloak simply watches on, confused at Sigma's anger...but then he notices him looking over this way...but not at himself...rather, the humaform that was irritating him earlier. . o O (Hrmph....so this is a Repliforce officer...you'd believe they'd handle themselves with better conduct...) Shaking his head, Browncloak starts inching away from him. Just...in....case....

Gravity Beetle levitates Grenade Man over a few people's heads, so he can see it at the front of the room.

"Yeah, it's all wooden and soaked in creosote. Much like your brains. Come on, now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Having not looked around before, Gravity Beetle looks over the room and grins internally. Scribe gets his attention, for one thing. Hee, hee. Satisfied that he's seen all the funeral he can take for one year, he turns on his heel and walks out again, Grenade Man floating behind him.

The buffet has been nearly completely eaten by now.

Gravity Beetle sends a radio transmission to Scribe Robin.

Scribe Robin receives a radio transmission.

In the time that Scribe was out, however, the roles had reversed somewhat. Hailstorm is now properly clinging to Scribe with her wing. "I know why you cried such, now .." She looks down.

Magic Man gives a nod of approval to Sigma as he decides to kick the ever lovin' shazbot out of the troublemaker. Not that Sigma needs approval or anything, but this is one of the rare situations where even Magic Man would start a battle. If this had been Wily's funeral, Ballade, Enker and just about everyone else would kick the piss out of Bolero as well. Magic Man, who had been near Bolero, stands up and calmly steps a few chairs to the right, away from the Reploid. Just in case Sigma does indeed set fire to everyone in the audience. Truly, this is sad that a /battle/ has broken out at a funeral. The next time Repliforce starts harping on about how the Mavericks are evil, I hope you people remind them of this incident.

Scribe Robin sends a radio transmission.

Gravity Beetle receives a radio transmission from Scribe Robin.

Autofire Ankylosaurus keeps his own rage in check, looking over at the Repliforcers and Robot Masters present. Decorum insists that he remain respectful, but the audacity of those who would disrupt a funeral is nearly too much for the soft-spoken Maverick to bear.

Gravity Beetle sends a radio transmission.

Scribe Robin receives a radio transmission from Gravity Beetle.

Scribe Robin just nods sadly, holding onto the other bird with his own wing. Romance? Maybe.

Grenade Man grumbles angrily. "I swear if you don't let me go now, Bugsy, this won't be the last time in the near future you'll go kablooie."

As an afterthought, Scribe internally updates the ignore list on his radio.

Tengu Man stops foottapping as Sigma speaks, remaining perfectly still. Hey, hey, he hasn't acted up at all tonight. Goodness. Magic, Grenade, Browncloak and Bolero get dirty looks. King is right... they've got to behave.

Chill Snowcat takes a deep breath and begins to walk forward. The feline is walking on four legs so he's not quite as tall as everyone else, allowing him to perhaps move with not EVERYONE in the world knowing he's there. The long fluff covered tail is held off the ground, away from anyone's stepping feet.

Metal Man is behaving as well, its odd to see the ego being quiet for this long you almost thing Wily had rebuilt his personality from scratch.

Prismatic Spider remains very, very still. Internally, he is seething. Bolero, provided he doesn't get himself killed on the spot, is going to be taken in for a nice, LONG talk shortly after they get back.

Magic Man is behaving. He just had the unfortunate luck of being seated by Bolero, and thus being constantly disturbed by his antics. Quite annoying, needless to say. Unlike others who are plotting Bolero's death or putting him on ignore lists, Magic Man does neither. He's emotionless enough to realize that if Repliforce wishes to populate itself with this sort of scum, then Magic Man doesn't care.

Scar and Draco keep glaring at Bolero, while Jorge glares at Prism. The joys of having three heads. However, finally Draco looks back to Sigma, showing proper respect for his fallen father.

Hopefully nobody else will disrupt matters. Damn, where was he? God friggin' hell. You'd think people would at least wait until -after- he said the controversial stuff before making fart noises. Calming ever so slightly, though ignorant of the radio chatter, Sigma resets his mind to continue as if nothing had ever happened. He reminds himself to not let such a 'reset' to happen again. Sigma says, "I'm sure we can all appreciate 'choice'. What kinds of choices can be disagreed on, but the core remains." Sigma glances in Chill's direction, but he doesn't seem to see the reploid quite yet, though he does focus on the feline. It doesn't seem like the reploid's planning to do anything stupid, so Sigma continues, "But he was also a man of cultural integrity. He often listened to music." And even now, Sigma allows a grin, as if remembering a fond memory, "Oh I remember -those- lectures of old and new composers with classical training."

Mender Heron at this point is hovering just off-stage, hoping that Sigma does not need to make good on his threat. He's a medic first of all. Second, the thought of bloodshed at a funeral makes him sick.

Bolero isn't scum. He's just been beaten about the head entirely too much in the past few days. First and foremost by a Maverick. Then last night when Harmony punched him in the back of the head... And twice last night was his internals nearly detonated by those F-5 drinks that Bastion sells. Good grief, wait until MSE sees the mass of molten slag floating around his abdomen, they'll get sick. He gulps again, edging off of his seat and towards the door. He's not entirely sure of how he's moving as such, he's just sort of duckwalking out of that place... In order to make a clean get away before Prismatic can catch him... Or his internals can explode again. If anyone, such as Sigma, really took notice, his skin tone was actually starting to go green since about the time of that gaseous noise. Yeah, Bolero's not having another F-5 so long as he lives. Two of those buggers was more than enough for him.

Gravity Beetle walks outside, with Grenade Man in tow. He then spins the Master round and lets him go. In the tuck shop's portable bin, because tradition must be obeyed. Then he orders another massive burger, walks back into the building and locks the door behind him. The sense of ego and power coming off of the Beetle is so big right now, Metal Man should be able to sense it clearly. Chewing his newest slab of beef and bread, Gravity Beetle walks through the corridors of the building, just looking around for something to do, really.

The Goon Squad have stuffed themselves stupid and are now lying on the floor of the empty buffet room, tummies practically ballooning.

Magic Man nods as Bolero leaves. The best course of action all around, I do believe. The Robot Master sits back down and lets his cane rest against his chair as he observes Sigma's eulogy. Indeed, the Maverick Leader is an excellent actor. Unless, y'know, Doppler /is/ dead, of course. Magic Man focuses on Sigma, but tries to pay attention to any other going ons as well.

Chill Snowcat appears to be trying to get closer and closer to the coffin. He lowers his head, slinking slightly in the presence of so many Mavericks and Masters. He sees Sigma look at him, and decides to keep going.

Hailstorm Eagle seems to lighten in her mood somewhat, having ended up this close (in more than one respect) to someone of similar mind-set. "The ... Coalition for Reploid Freedom ..it will live on, won't it?"

Scribe Robin nods. "Yes... the dream of equality for all beings shall continue on. We are not like the masters; we are driven by what we believe to be right, not by what one person greedily desires. I just wish... that we didn't have to go to war over it..." And no, you Masters didn't hear that unless you have E-Senses.

Hailstorm Eagle is startled. This avian despises the conflict as well? "You're certainly not the only one... no one should have to hurt or suffer, no one ..." She almost takes a dreamy tone to her speech, and her eyes glaze over slightly, until she realizes where she is. "I feel like I could have been you, if certain circumstances hadn't happened. Yet I don't know your name..."

Grenade Man heaves himself out of the dumpster, only being able to look up and glare from disorientational as Gravity leaves. He mumbles curses and promises of death and pain given both ways, and some such stuff as he gets slowly to his feet. That was not fun, especially because of the whole floating part. He continues to mumble as he wobbles back in the general direction of the Philharmonic again, intent on getting in this time. Geez, such tight security when all he wanted to do was see this thing for himself! It's not like he doesn't have enough of his brothers threatening to cause disruption if he causes disruption, although that does sound nice... "Grah."

With one last heave, Gravity Beetle dumps Necron Snake in front of the inside of the door. His three charges have evidently stuffed themselves stupid, so they can act as doorstops to stop Grenade Man from blowing his way in, which he secretly hopes he will. Having done so, he pulls up a chair and rereads his book, pausing intermittently to look up at the door.

Sigma glances again to Chill, before saying, simply, "Therefore, as we take time to mourn this day, I asked that one of Doctor Sigmund Doppler's favored pieces be played today from Psych Mosquito, a reploid known for his musical talents, yet is also deceased." The lights darken slightly as music begins to play. It's a kind of sad folk music, bluesy, but not quite either. Sigma starts to stride to his seat but keeps an eye on Chill.

Magic Man has, by now, already assumed that even if Doppler isn't dead, not every Maverick is aware of this. Sigma may be a good actor. But not /all/ of the Mavericks all. Someone would make a slip. But, aside from idly making logical deductions inside his head - whether they be right or wrong - , Magic Man remains quiet and watches the end of Sigma's eulogy with a dispassionate expression on his face.

oO(Even in the ashes of one, another rises...)Oo What, exactly, Scribe means by that thought is to be revealed later, however. In response to Hailstorm's question, Scribe replies, "I am Scribe Robin, librarian for the Coalition." oO(Full title would make me sound pompous...)Oo "And somehow, someway, I shall find a way for the world's problems to be solved peacefully. This sort of death shall not happen again." Scribe seems to be forgetting the fact that Doppler died of an accident, not a battle injury. "You have my promise on that."

Grenade Man simply continues to walk towards the door, having regained his senses and no longer wobbling. Heedless of Gravity Beetle or his "doorstops," Grenade continues walking... Not run Forest run. Walk Grenade walk.

Browncloak simply continues to watch, inching back to his old seat as Bolero leaves.

Internally, Sword wonders if this is a hoax or not. He doesn't have the deductive ability Magic has, so he's just left to ponder. . o O (Many seem to be genuinely distraught...however, for Doppler to perish in such a sudden manner...) However, he attempts to keep stoic. This disguise has been his only one for so long, and he doesn't want to let it slip for any non-Master.

Hailstorm Eagle nods, teary-eyed, as the music starts to play. "Scribe Robin. Yes, we'll help this world lay down its arms and come to terms with itself. I am just an out-of-place artist, Hailstorm Eagle. it's good to meet you."

Chill Snowcat gets a few steps from the Coffin and turns his head to bring an item out of a compartment in his shoulder. He glances at the coffin again, moving a step closer as he draws a long thin object from the compartment.

Scribe Robin bows his head in respect to the passed-away doctor.

Metal Man bows his head as well as he thinks. oO(What about when Wily truly dies...) Metal shunts that thought from his mind...

Shove on the door all you want, Grenade, you probably won't get through those three fatsos. Gravity Beetle has now read Bouncers a second time. Hmm, now how to get another one of those dee-licious burgers?

"Oh, Gunbeetle...?"

.oO(Bite me.)Oo.

Hailstorm Eagle also bows, but this time, she manages to force out the emotions of a smile. In her heart of hearts, she doesn't say goodbye, she says thanks.

Sigma reaches for his hammer, just in case he needs to smack someone upside the head, but he doesn't get a clear look at what Chill is holding and so doesn't lunge for him quite yet. The dirge-like, weary music continues to play, a soft harpsichord and percussion tying the piece together.

Magic Man bows his head as the others, but obviously for different reasons. He spies Chill Snowcat hanging around the coffin, but can't tell what exactly he's doing, if anything. And so, Magic Man waits. Is this the end of the funeral?

Browncloak follows suit, bowing his head, if only to keep from drawing suspicion. As he listens to the music, he wonders of its artist, and where he could get a composition of his works.

Autofire Ankylosaurus lowers his head respectfully, calm again. Yes.

Scribe Robin raises his head after a few minutes. "I believe... that he would want us... to not grieve too long for him, to proceed with advancing his dream..." He starts to get to his feet. "If you need me for any reason, even if just to talk, do not hesitate to call." And he slowly starts to walk away, his player being forced off to bed.

Chill Snowcat is very careful as he pulls the long thin item from his shoulder compartment. In moments a long silvery stem is followed by similar silvery leaves and finally a perfect pristine white rose. The cat hesitantly steps toward the coffin and raises up on his hind feet to reverently place the flower on the coffin.

Prismatic Spider nods silently as he listens to the music... And ponders. The funeral has given him much to think about indeed... But he has to do something first. Silently, he raises a hand and sends a transmission.

Grenade Man grumbles at the fat oafs blocking his entry into the funeral hall. What a bust. He gives up and returns to base. Why did he come out here anyway?

Hailstorm Eagle seems slightly reluctant to let her wing go of Scribe, but does let him stand, folding her wings back around herself. "Of course. I hope to see you soon..." She bows to him, and then leans back in her chair, her mind reeling with certain things. Her beak seems cast in a smile.

Prismatic Spider sends a radio transmission.

Sigma receives a radio transmission from Prismatic Spider.

Sigma relaxes simply, looking away from Chill finally. At least someone is -respectful-. Mutter grumble. He receives a transmission, anger prompts him to just relieve some stress at the fellow, but Sigma once again manages to keep himself under control as he replies.

Sigma sends a radio transmission.

Prismatic Spider receives a radio transmission.

As the last notes of the fugue fade, four other Coalition soldiers take to the stage. The pallbearers and honor guard, by all appearances. One of them takes the wreath of roses from atop the casket. One stands at attention on the far side of the casket as the other two fold the CRF flag with military precision. The flag is then presented to Sigma, the wreath placed on an empty stand set nearby.

"Soldiers! Atten-tion!"

The soldiers stand at attention, saluting the coffin.

"Our brother in arms has fallen. It is our solemn duty to take him from the field. May his memory of his deeds never fade."

Again, with military precision, the four move to their positions, lifting the coffin from its resting place and moving in slow procession down the aisle to the back of the theater.

Hailstorm Eagle breaks into light sobbing once more, but retains her happy expression. If that's possible.

Chill Snowcat backs away from the pallbearers. He lowers his head a little in respect and backs up out of their way. Despite everything, few may know of the interaction between Doppler and Chill.

Autofire Ankylosaurus lowers his head, weeping silently. Yes, he does emote. Poor Ankylo.

Sigma stands up, nodding to Chill briefly, perhaps acknowledging him for not driving him nuts as he expected would happen. He then nods, somberly, to the Coalition soldiers, taking the flag, stepping to his own position, and then follows with the coffin down the aisle, ensuring he does not have a 'special' position amongst the soldiers. That would just make him look -too- egotistical.

Prismatic Spider lowers his head in respect as the procession begins. He does not cry, but inside he does feel a sense of loss and regret... A regret that Doppler could not be turned from his ways before his death... But he does still retain the respect for the fallen greatness of Doppler's mind.

As the procession disappears through the doors, Mender Heron moves to the podium again, clearing his throat to gain the people's attention. "Emperor Sigma has requested that the gravesite be closed to all but Dr. Doppler's immediate family. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. You are welcome to stay for the remainder of the evening."

Browncloak watches the procession as the pallbearers take the casket away. Idly, Sword wonders just how full that casket is. Oh, to have senses like Snake Man for this...anyways, hearing Mender's announcement, he flirts with the idea of trying to examine the gravesite himself...but dismisses it, deciding to rather stay here, and possibly gather more information. Sitting up, he walks toward the back, turning around once he reaches the wall and keeps an eye on the room in front of him. . o O (Perhaps the aftermath will lead to some potent information...)

Hailstorm Eagle just sits there, wings wrapped tightly around herself. Even with Alpha's encouragement to listen to herself, she feels lonely; yet whether that comes from the loss of such a great man or the exit of her newfound friend Scribe Robin is unknown to her. Her eyes simply stare unmoving at the place where the casket once was, and she warbles to herself nervously.

Prismatic Spider turns to the door after the procession leaves... He has paid his respects, and now he must return to his work. He leaves quickly, as who knows what might happen?

Prismatic Spider enters the Imperial Stronghold - MavBerlin.

Prismatic Spider has left.

Autofire Ankylosaurus sighs, rising slowly. Doppler is gone, but he must press on.

Hailstorm Eagle does not leave immediately. She has nowhere she would rather be.