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Liberty Park Sunday, December 11, 2016 9:23 PM Somedays, Cannonade wondered what it had to be like to work in Animal Control in this town. It had been one of the weirdest "track downs" he'd ever had. Sometimes, on patrol, he'd run into a cop who wanted to flag him down over something weird, usually related to the Crusaders. Other times, Commander Grayston of AEGIS might track him down, wanting to send him off to God knows where to handle some new interesting wrinkle in geopolitics. This time, however, he'd touched down in the Fens to get some coffee at the Dunkin Donuts, only to be flagged down by a woman with blue hair and the uniform of an Animal Control officer. "It was a jogger," she'd said. "She'd been running through the park, said she was passing by Poet's Grove when they appeared. Dogs. Three of them, black as night. One of them did a real number on her arm, but she was carrying pepper spray and managed to drive them off." "And if you're talking to me, I'm guessing they can't actually be dogs." "Given this town, they could be, but... we checked where she was attacked. No sign of spoor, paw prints, droppings, anything. And her description... it may have been dark and she may have been scared, but they didn't resemble any dog we know. Maybe Mastiffs, at an outside stretch, but... Mastiffs aren't usually that dark in coloration. And then there was the other thing..." "What other thing?" "She said they came running out from behind a hedge. But that part of Poet's Grove is completely clear cut." And so, Cannonade ventured off into a dark stretch of an already dark park, feeling the shadows loom. The air felt crisp and cool, and he could smell pine on the air. No dog, though, wet or otherwise. But he had a feeling that, given this town, that wasn't going to hold for long.

Silberman's Books. Sunday, December 11th, 2016. Sundays were sleepy at Silberman's, since the store didn't open until noon on the weekends; this largely eliminated the early coffee rush, but meant the folks who came in now were looking to take their time and stay awhile. The sales floor looked very Christmas-y, and the fragrance of the decorated Scotch pine filled the store. Lynn was in her office checking emails while Gretchen sat perched on her stool behind the counter, reading a magazine; her half trendy/half 'screw you' ensemble pegged her as a former art student, but nonetheless a playful pair of reindeer antlers were perched on her head.

Silberman's Books. Wednesday, Novermber 30th, 2016. 11:00 am Even though it was probably her riskiest hire ever, Lynn was optimistic about hiring Merge; coverage would not be much of a problem anymore, and she felt that once she adjusted her groove a bit to match the tone of the store, the colorful duplicator would bring a lot to the team. But as tempting as a full staff of Merges was (Oh, the looks on the faces of the old Jews of the neighborhood; it would almost be worth it!), the changeling knew she still needed a few more warm bodies. The store was starting to slow down a bit from the morning coffee-and-danish rush, but a handful of regulars were still sipping their coffee. Maddy had the morning off, so it was Lance and Gretchen behind the bar/counter while Lynn walked the floor; today, she wore green curly toed shoes, a bright green sweater and comfy jeans under her brown Silberman's apron, all topped with a red Santa hat and a pair of cute 'elf ears' (nudge nudge, wink wink). The store was decorated in old-fashioned Christmas decorations, including a big Scotch pine covered in lights, and a train set chased itself around the table in the children's section.

Claremont Academy Friday, December 9 3:42 PM The trees were busy. Lilly was still coming into her connection to the ephemeral to a certain degree. She had the basics down and knew her oak from her holly, but she was still trying to understand so much about spirits. Their language, their politics, their intricacies... it was a lot to take in. But she at least felt she knew something. Like how some tree spirits should be dormant in the winter. But here they were - the oak, the cedar - gathering on the grounds of Claremont and associating with their brethren. And they seemed to be knocking on the trunks of the sleeping trees, trying to get in. --- Lincoln Friday, December 9 6:32 PM It was already dark, but winter did that. It just meant more time to patrol. Unfortunately, while the cold never quite bothered her, nights of balancing crime fighting and finals prep did, which was why Temperance was feeling a bit reluctant to take to the sky this evening. After about 15 minutes on the ice sledge, she realized she'd need something hot and caffeinated if she wanted to avoid the world's most embarrassing - if unique - collision. She set the sledge down outside of a 7-Eleven, somehow managing to find a parking space that had not been claimed by a lawn chair in preparation of the oncoming snow. "Excuse me." Temperance turned to find a man in a green Eisenhower jacket and Smokey hat lurking in the corner. "They say you're the water girl around her," he said. "Well, one of them. They didn't exactly have contact info, but the police said I might be able to find you around here." "I'm one of the ones who deal with water, yes. But if the police sent you to me, I imagine it's a bit... stranger than that." The man extended his hand. "Jack Perkins, National Parks Service," he said. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a folder and handing it to Temperance. "We had a... recent incident, and was wondering you might be able to bring your particular insight to it." Temperance flipped open the folder, only to be hit with a crime scene. An SUV, covered in mud and wet leaves, lay on the edge of a snow-covered shore, a tow cable hitched to the back. The next photo showed the interior of the car, and the body sitting in the front seat. The man was dressed in winter woodsman gear, complete with watchman's cap, and had that particular coloration one might associate with a drowned man. Hell of a way to start the evening. Still, Temperance had to maintain her composure to sell the mystique. She looked to Jack. "These photos are telling me a story, and I'm guessing it's not the obvious one." "The deceased is Thomas Laurent. 29, former lineman working out of Barnegat. We found a chainsaw and pitons in his car - logging equipment. He was in the middle of Wharton." Wharton. A picture was starting to come together in her mind. She knew it was the wrong one, but she didn't know just what she was looking for yet. "So, the theory is, he was engaged in illegal logging, drove out into a snowy glade, parked on a frozen lake, and went through the ice. But I'm guessing there's something wrong with that picture..." Jack nodded. "The car was in park when it was extracted from the lake. But there were tire treads running 200 feet from the shore. And, according to our forensics guys, the tires were not running when the car make its trip. It's as if... something pushed it into the lake." Temperance studied the photos again. She thought she might be seeing things, but the front bumper looked a little loose. "Or dragged it."

Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship! December 16, 9:07 PM "Alright, we're locked up," Erik Espadas confirmed as he rounded the gap in the wall between the dojo's entryway and the training space. With the blinds drawn over the big front windows and a few more sophisticated measures in place the small group gathered were ready for their planned after-hours class. Unlike usual the mats were littered with piled weights, cardboard boxes and anything else that had been handy and looked like it might make for an inconvenient obstacle. "Remember, we're working on mobility tonight," he reminded the deceptively lanky man and the woman with short black hair in front of him, folding his bare arms across his plain white workout shirt. They could have easily been a pair of the college students who frequented his intermediary self-defence classes. "That means something a little different for you two than the rest of us so I figured it was past time you compared notes." The fencer let a lopsided grin split his businesslike demeanour as he stepped back toward far corner where Talya and Steve were watching. "That said, loser has to mop the footprints off my ceiling." In the apartments up above Ellie Espadas held her breath as she tip-toed out of the nursery, hoping against hope that her newest niece and nephew would stay asleep at least long enough to get back to the kitchen. Either one of them crying inevitably woke the other and even with three pairs of hands helping she wasn't sure how their parents were coping. Making it down the hallway and all the way to the kitchen table the med student silently raised a pair of crossed fingers as she sat down between Min and Mara. "And I thought pulling a double at Trinity took it out of you," she drawled just barely louder than a whisper. "Please tell me there's coffee or tea or something."

Dutemps Building December 2016 It was unusual for a groups of people who lived in the same location to gather together to throw a Holiday party, but Dutemps wasn’t the most normal of places. First it was a castle high above the skyline of Freedom City, looking like it was from a fairytale or a cartoon but then again so did a lot of Freedom City. And this fairytale castle in the sky was home to an amazing bunch of female misfit heroes. And today they were having a party. One of the smaller halls had been prepared for today’s event with a incredibly well stocked buffet table and a fairly impressive sound system for hopefully a fruitfuls night partying.

Freedom Hall December 2016 Downtown Freedom was awash with bright lights and color as it was every year festooned with seasonal decorations from every conceivable location. Every building seemed to being trying to outdo each other to be the most seasonal above all the others, though if it was it all seemed to be in good natured fun. Around the world famous Freedom Hall there was a flash of lights of a different kind as the press were gathered around to witness the seasonal event of the League's Christmas party. Only those who were lucky enough could preceed beyond the press corden, or through the side entrance for those less keen on publicity, and the only guests invited were those that helped defend the city as one of it’s many superheroes. Only they got to go into the building itself into the hall which had been transformed into a suitable festive space in which the heroes could let loose for just the one night.

Archetech West Building, Emerald City, Wa December 2016 If you wanted to be seen in Emerald City this time of year the place to be seen was the yearly MarsTech Christmas party a massive extravaganza that attracted politicians and superstars from throughout the city and beyond. This year the buzz was about Emerald Cities new superheroes, which unlike Freedom City wasn’t over run with heroes and villains, and whether they would be invited to attend this year's party. So the PR department of Archetech had come up with a bold plan. Being famous for it’s association with supers run by one of their leading lights and with a hero of their own associated with Emerald City, and some unfortunately business that had luckily been mostly forgotten, had sent out an open invitation to cities heroes to attend a Christmas party. But the real bold part was that it was on the same night as the MarsTech bash.

The Bar December 2016 Bedlam wasn’t always the most friendly place for superheroes so it was always nice to have a place where you could relax in relative safety. Such as place was the Bar, it didn’t have any official name, that despite attempts of the authorities to close down had managed to thrive for quite sometime. The place itself wasn’t that impressive just a series of mismatched tables and chairs, and bar stocked with relatively good liquor, a battered pool table and a jukebox all stuffed into whatever rather bland building the bar had currently been relocated. Even a place like this wasn’t immune to the holidays and an effort had been made to make it more festive with a few decoration across the bar and a rather sad looking tree. But more importantly to celebrate the drink reduced in price.

Silberman's Books. Monday, November 28th, 2016. 10:00 am. If you worked in retail, the holiday season was always stressful; it had a way of simultaneously bringing out the best and worst in people, and it seemed to go on forever. Since she'd reopened the store in 2014, owner Lynn Epstein had seen business steadily increase each year; their numbers were never going to be amazing, especially given her insistence on paying her employees a decent wage, but the fact that they weren't always operating at a loss made her happy. Of course, considering the large nest egg she'd brought back from Otherworld, she could afford to operate at a modest loss for years if necessary, and she wouldn't even mind; reopening Silberman's was never about making money. But if she didn't want her employees to rebel and hoist her from the yardarm, she desperately needed to hire some holiday help, and hopefully keep a few of them on permanently. Which wasn't always easy when you ran a store that had a whispered reputation for weird goings on... Since she'd put the ad up over the weekend, Lynn had already gotten several resumes via email, which she was currently reading over in her office; she had her 'power team' this morning, Lance on bar and Gretchen at the register. It was early yet, so it was mostly the coffee and newspaper crowd of old Jewish men from the neighnorhood, as well as one or two 'hipster beards' sipping their espresso as they checked their email on their Powerbooks. Need any help out there? No. We're good for now.

City Hall, Emerald City, Oregon December 3rd, 10.17 AM, 2016 "...so we turn to the man with a plan: Maximilian Mars! Together with our beloved mayor and crusading D.A.! Shall we give them a warm welcome, fellow munchkins?" Fit and fashionable John Nakane needn't have bothered with the suggestion. A roar of applause and hollaring voices greeted a short, smiling and stocky red-haired man dressed in expensive blue simplicity, a care-worn and kindly-looking woman whose quick wave, predominantly green wardrobe and auburn hair marked her as Mayor Amanda Talbot and a thin and stern-looking brunet whose bespectacled officiousness pegged him as District Attorney Stanley Everett. The unlikely trio took to the podium mounted at the end of City Hall's broad front porch, a stubby granite cliff flanked by the slopes leading up to the aggressively modern metal and glass structure from which over 450,000 souls had their fates determined. With a flicker the holo-screens snapped to life, showing the three at gigantic size in crystal-clear resolution across the front of the building. Tilting down the microphones a little to better reach his bearded face, Max Mars grinned boyishly at the congregation. In almost every direction the manicured lawns and gardens held scattered collections, singles or parties of locals, while the geometrically exact white lanes were crowded to the bursting with them, the throng thickest in the broad square right before City Hall. The winter sun was unusually strong today, despite the clouded weather, which fit with today's agenda perfectly. "Hellooo my little people! It's great to see so many of you here today! The public notification did say this was just a sneak peak at the future, and you're the ones who make the future happen!" Waiting for the whoops of approval to die down with a fatherly "aw, shucks" expression, Mars quickly got down to business. "We all pay attention to the news, and we all know the problems facing our world. A lot of them seem too big for anyone, or even everyone to handle. But we didn't get where we are by giving up! You can't cross a thousand miles in one step...well, at least not until our teleporter watches are out in 2018, but until then we take this one step at a time, one day at a time, one problem at a time." Mars took a hard drive out of his pocket "For a start, our wasteful consumer culture. This is a two-terabyte drive, peanuts, right? But look at all the stuff that goes into it, just to make a disposable, near-obsolete pile of junk. Mr. Everett?" The District Attorney stepped forward, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out something that took a second for the sensors to focus properly on it: a tiny thumb drive, grey and russet with the MarsTech logo. "How much space is that again, Stan?" Mars asked with a grin at the audience. "Two hundred and fifty terabytes, Max. Consolidation of city records is already almost complete, and the security is, well..." Everett frowned at the piece of electronics in his hand "...well it's actually almost unbelievable. I have even been keeping personal files on this." "And this is just the first step, folks! Mayor Talbot, you've been looking for material to shore up Red River Dam, correct?" "We all know what happens if it collapses, Max, and frankly I would prefer our fair city not suffer Astoria's fate." The mayor's smile was a little more wry than usual "This the part where we dramatically reveal those slow-growth nanobots?" Mars clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with betrayal "Mandy! How could you? But yes!" At his nod Talbot held her hand up to the sensors, revealing a tiny pile of concrete visibly alive with activity "Self-repairing structures aren't just Freedom City's thing anymore, folks! And we don't need an Ancient Egyptian cosplayer to do it either! This is all us, Emerald City, we're making this happen together!" This time the cheers, whoops, screams and claps lasted for a good five minutes. Which was no problem. Selective sound-pitching tech meant that the questions from the press, civilians and short statements from the most powerful people in Emerald City carried through loud and clear. In the hustle and press of the crowd, a cheerful-looking young man with a ponytail and a very consistent red/green color scheme accidentally stumbled against a smaller woman. With a yelp of surprise he whirled around, fists half-raised until he saw who she was. "Sorry! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention! You okay? I'm Paris, Paris Redwater." He offered his hand with a chagrined twist on his mouth "I'm here for school, my Comms teacher wanted me to see professional public speakers in action. How about you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow "Here for the city spirit?"

1:43 PM 18/11/2016 Silberman's Books, West End Freedom City An old 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan pulled up in the alley beside the bookstore - the door requiring a few kicks before it popped open. A young man in a pageboy cap and worn out old pea coat clambered out, stretching; Morgan eyeballing the door and sighing. Stupid prudence. If he'd blown half the jack from the Baron job on getting his car's body tuned up along with the engine... Meh. Svartalves never liked extras. He reached into the back and took out a duffel bag, along with a notepad; checking the listed work order. Package number three, basic alarm array. He referred to it as the Blinky Light Package - mostly since unless the buyer picked up additions, it was basically a bright blinky light if anyone used magic in their vicinity. On the positive side, it was nice and cheap, and usually helped get people past the whole 'magic in business' hump. That being said, honestly? He'd have done this one for free. Scuttlebutt said Silberman's was a good place, and run by a lady who was firmly on the side of the angels, if you could trust the local kids. Still, guy's gotta eat, right? ...though that didn't necessarily stop him from adding a few, er, 'weekly special discounts' onto the bill. Even if the weekly special had only been declared about, oh, say, five minutes into their phone call. Of course he'd planned those specials all along, it was just a coincidence they came up then. And nobody had any proof otherwise. The young man jogged up the front stoop and knocked on the door. Giving a bit of that old-school no-entry-unless-invited thing.

GM Saturday, November 19th, 2016 The Schuster Auditorium, Hanover, Freedom City 6:22 PM It was a nice day. The sun had already set, but the temperature was still comfortably high. The fact a lot of people were standing in line also helped that fact. The front of the Schuster Auditorium, where the UWL was holding their monthly Pay-Per-View. This month’s was “Credit Carnage”, themed after money, with a variety of well-paying contracts on the line. It was more of a bridge PPV than anything, one of the few filling the time between the big ones in September and January. In the line, Brianna Wilks. Getting tickets for the PPVs wasn’t always easy, but if one was fast enough (and she certainly was), it was possible to get pretty good seats for cheap. She waited in line like everybody else, surrounded by the average UWL crowd, most wearing merch of their favourites, some holding signs below their arms. Some went even further and dressed up fully, looking much like the costumed heroes of Freedom City. And then, just as Brianna was about to enter the stadium, she heard screams, coming from the back of the crowd, quite some distance away. As the crowd started to push, the sound of grinding metal silenced the screams for just a second, confirming this was something that probably required Quickstrike’s interference.

GM Tuesday, November 15th, 2016 Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City 4:25 PM Classes had just ended and most people were now walking back towards their dorms. A few stopped at their lockers first, but many just continued through, not taking advantage of the lockers given to them. Amongst the many students was Lilly King, who had only very recently started at Claremont. She had gotten a basic tour around the academy, yes, but anything beyond the hallways getting the most traffic was still an unknown to her. Today, she felt like exploring. Over the past few days, she had seen a few places that seemed to be removed from the action, with hardly anyone ever there. So, here she was. A small hallway in the basement of the main building. A few lockers were placed in a well-lit hallway, but the single path leading off of it, without a proper source of light, was where Lilly found herself now. She couldn’t quite judge how long the hallway she was in was, but it certainly didn’t stop during the next few dozen steps. Nobody had told her of this place so far, most people seemed to ignore it for one reason or another, yet here she was, slowly making her way down it.

09/11/2016 12:35 PM Downtown Freedom City When a professional group of vault hunters shows up in your city, the local law enforcement take notice. Granted, it's usually fairly hard to actually track them down, once they go to ground - but you can generally assume a spectacular heist is in the offing. AEGIS was well familiar with this procedure; having long set up protocols in the event of notable criminals popping up on the radar at the Freedom City airport - and they'd released the names and faces to the FCPD and (surreptitiously) to more than a few of their known heroic contacts. That or 'conviniently' left the information on unsecured servers where any (hero-type) person might find them. It was an old game, and one the Midnights and Ravens of old had played very well. The group in particular this month was called the Self-Preservation Society; a band of British movie buffs who'd taken up the mask and black bag years ago. They'd started their careers with blag jobs working armored convoys in the UK, graduating to larger-scale heists across France and Germany once their rep had grown. Four men, each world-class drivers, who'd made their bones on some of the scariest (and fastest) roads on Earth. They'd never pulled a job in the good old U.S. of A., but records were made to be broken - and given piles of these world-class drivers had kept popping up arriving one way or another in Freedom over the last few weeks, then dropping off the radar - something was in the works. That something finally came up when every alarm system Midnight had started screaming red. Three heroes in question were on patrol in the City Centre when the alarms hit - and a quartet of Mini Coopers souped up to frightening levels tore out of the front lobby of the First National. They moved as one in eerie synchronicity through the streets, moving towards an unknown destination - leaving wreckage of hot dog stands, newspaper stalls, and leaping bystanders in their wake!

09/11/2016 12:35 PM The Boardwalk Freedom City It really does say something about Freedom City that the men and women on the Boardwalk weren't overly concerned by the sudden sound of speeding cars. The echo of revving engines up and down the long wooden walks. The squealing of rubber tires. Oh, I grant you, the majority of the citizens present still dove for safety when a trio of multicolored sports cars came screaming past, but they didn't let it end their perfectly nice shopping day on Freedom City's famous Boardwalk. The call had come in a few hours before - an 'anonymous tip' from a 'concerned citizen'. Five cars, complete with descriptions of license plates, would be stolen from the parking lot of one of the most expensive hotels in Freedom City. Cars worth millions - tens, if not hundreds of millions - in value. One, even belonging to a noted diplomat visiting from the Middle East. Thanks to the vigilant efforts of the FCPD, two had been stopped at the lot - one by catching the thief in the hotel bar's washroom (attempting to flush a shoe down the toilet?), and the other just before he'd jacked the door. It was the remaining three that were giving the FCPD headaches trying to catch. The first was a Lamborghini (because of course one was a Lamborghini) - it tore down one of the Boardwalk's straightaways, managing to take the lead for a few minutes - skidding around a corner on two wheels. Black, with red neon underlights; she belonged to a notable reality star who was currently screaming at one of the police officers in the hotel parking lot about how she'd sue the pants off anyone who so much as scratched it. The second, riding right on it's tail, was a lovely Ferrari. Cherry-red, of course, and belonging to a pleasantly tubby multi-millionaire internet tycoon; producer of the notable Irate Fowl knockoff of a popular video game series. He wasn't threatening to sue the pants off whoever scratched it, he was more threatening to ruin their credit scores. Yeah, he was one of those people. Bit late for it, either way - the thief behind the wheel wasn't that subtle about ploughing through a souvenir stand, and a Centurion shirt was currently flying like a flag off the back spoiler. And the last...oh, the last. Neon yellow Bugatti Veyron. This was the diplomat's vehicle. Import, with diplomatic plates, and who knew what in the glove compartment. This one was steadily remaining in the middle of the pack, the driver the most conservative of the three. Not to say he wasn't a point of concern - he'd escaped the parking lot by ramping off an asphalt pile and flying over the retaining wall. Credit where it was due, however, the gentleman in the turban who owned the car hadn't stated any threats or made any violent statements of intent if his car was damaged. He didn't really have to - savvy? Either way, under the circumstances - made sense when multiple networks monitored by heroes of the city started screaming blue murder begging for help before someone got killed, eh? Let's see who answered the call and why!

GM Content Note: Disturbing Content, maybe a little Gore "Then we have an accord." The voice was deep and smooth, but its words dropped like stones into a grave. He took his bargains seriously; even a verbal agreement strummed with power, especially in this place-between-places. His new partner, however temporary, swallowed hard. Baku the dream demon was ancient by human standards; he fed in infancy on the nightmares of early Japanese hunter-gatherers, more than ten thousand years ago. His travels across the world spawned numerous myths, and with those myths he himself changed. Few had seen more of this planet's history--open and secret, the history of shadows and unseen things, hidden behind walls that were themselves beyond most mortals' comprehension--than he, but one such person stood before him now. The deal he made tonight linked him to someone whose age dwarfed his own by orders of magnitude--who, too, walked freely through the borderlands and laughed at barriers meant to hold back flesh and blood. Baku knew he wasn't the first spirit to make a deal of this sort, although he couldn't understand this person's interest here. What does it matter? What does it matter, so long as he gives me what I need? Looming over the tiny demon, the sorcerer held out a swirling globe of pure magic--a thing of beautiful light that defied color schemes, its shining particles moving in directions that corresponded to no physical space. A living spell, ready to take effect even without its master present...for the right price. And that price, Baku paid. He told his partner of the things he had seen, spying invisible and intangible on his enemy and those associated with him. He dared not come close to Presto the Preposterous in the waking world, not after their last meeting. He certainly would not risk approaching the terrible creature that had taken Presto under her dark and bloodstained wing. Only from a distance had he watched, and through the bland, dull nightmares of average mortals. Their memories often came secondhand, mere rumors, but some rumors spoke loudly. Beware the Grimalkin! When they were done, when Baku had been wrung dry of everything he knew or suspected, his tall companion at last presented him with the spell. Baku took it in his little claws and chortled. Vengeance would be his! He stepped sideways through the walls of reality and went to find a dream.

GM Friday, November 4th, 2016 Freedom City 2:24 PM Some time ago, Leviathan, the sea-monster prowling Freedom’s streets, had met Bonfire, a blogger and fellow Superhero. Bonfire was fairly well known online, even though he had not started much later than Leviathan, which came as a surprise when Tristan Delacroix ended up checking the internet on information on the smoke-controller he had met. It was an interesting sight, seeing just how much all of Bonfire’s internet appearances influenced his popularity. An effect of which, perhaps, Leviathan could profit from as well? Perhaps not as directly. Selfies and long posts describing his most recent missions probably weren’t Leviathan’s style, after all. Either way, talking to the man himself probably was a good way to start. Fortunately, reaching Bonfire was an easy task. In between fan-mail, a business address and a variety of other functions, actually sending him a message was easy.

GM Monday, October 31st, 2016 A building, Southside, Southside 7:46 PM Almost everyone had received an invitation. Almost everyone knew it was a bad idea. Many didn’t care about that. A Halloween Party. Organized at a small, easy-to-rent location only a short walk away from the Academy. Online research showed that renting it wasn’t a big ordeal, it required only basic information, but also quite an amount of money. And came with all the equipment a party would need. People had gotten the invitations through a wide variety of means. Some were asked in person. Some found notes in their bags, some in their rooms. Others heard the news from their friends, while a few more got texts. Some invitations arrived through even stranger means. But one thing they all had in common was the message. A starting time, shortly before 8. A call for costumes and a description of the location. However, one thing nobody seemed to know was the organizer. When pushed on it, nobody really knew what to answer, and it was unclear whether or not it was because they were just hiding it, or really didn’t know. Either way, the identity of the person, or people, behind it was unknown to most students, only a select few knowing more. Even the combination of all these ominous factors didn’t stop people, however. So, when people arrived at the described location, they were met with an open door. An open door, leading into a small entrance room, filled with coat-hangers, a few of them looking like bones. Rather realistic ones at that, but probably of animal origin. A second door then led into the main room itself, where a simple beat was playing. The lights were off, and a bit of smoke, clearly made by a smoke-machine crept outwards.

GM Huge problems can start from the tiniest of errors, like ripples spreading across a pond. When Dr. Marco Hoffman forgot to put his thick gloves on before helping transfer his patient to her gurney for transport, he thought little of it. He merely snatched his burned hand back from Julia Cole's arm, swore under his breath, and reached for his protective gear before finishing the job. The custom-made handcuffs clicked securely in place. She never appeared to stir from her drug-induced sedation; her guards experienced no trouble when they wheeled Cole back to her cell, specially designed for her unique needs. And by the time Dr. Hoffman noticed that his keys were missing from his pocket, it was far, far too late. About an hour later, Dr. Oliver Graves--a particularly appropriate name, given the number of innocent people he put into the ground with his highly unethical work for an organization he barely understood--reviewed the security footage under thermal and slow-motion viewpoints. He already knew what happened; the damage to the facility spoke for itself, as did four missing patients and over two dozen dead or maimed guards. He now wanted to know why. The Coles were gone--project names Absolute Zero and Heat Sink. Holly Page--project name Copy Error--the mercenary for some international cartel or another, who paid for her augmentation through the DNAscent process and were told that their hired gun died on the operating table, was gone. Owen Walsh--project name Temporal Displacement--was gone, but at least he wouldn't be missed; the man was insufferable even before DNAscent unhinged him, and Dr. Graves privately hoped that whichever field agents retrieved him did so with a body bag. All failures, technically, but that hardly meant they had no value. Jonathan Grant and Peter Hanks--only the latter of whom Dr. Graves actually knew--continued to experiment with new techniques for DNAscent; now that they could create "simple" powers with relative reliability, they branched out in hopes of securing more esoteric talents. Why rely on blind luck? Most patients at this particular facility just died, but these four survived with unforeseen side effects, handicaps, insanity, or some combination of the three. Dr. Graves was under orders to study them thoroughly before they were inevitably terminated. Omelets and eggs, after all. He clicked through the video records until he found the problem. There, using the slowest mode available, was a single frame of Heat Sink reaching one blurry hand into Dr. Hoffman's coat pocket. Dr. Graves narrowed his eyes and sighed. He made a mental note to adjust her sedatives, assuming she could be recaptured alive. "Detain Hoffman for the next round of experiments," he told his bodyguards. "And notify Dr. Hanks. We have a problem." * * * The four story structure of glass and gleaming steel seemed to appear almost overnight, right on the bank of the North Bay district; property values here were horrendously expensive, but that wasn't a problem. Although the owner of this facility wasn't blessed with patience, he did have more wealth than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and so, multiple construction crews worked around the clock with whatever equipment they requested. Inspections and permits proved surprisingly cooperative when the city officials who issued them suddenly found their departments' budgets much healthier than the day before. Besides, who wanted to stand in the way of a good cause? Some of those bureaucrats attended today's grand opening. Other guests included local scientists, out-of-town experts, and of course, reporters to handle the publicity. Covers only worked when enough people knew about them. At least it will be a proper charity, Dr. Delacroix thought in his office on the top floor. He made his way through the adjoining lab, past equipment that was still being relocated and set up. Most of the building was devoted to research space...and with so much gear, no one would be shocked when some of it went mysteriously missing during transit, especially when he replaced it with a wave of his checkbook. He took the stairs down to the lobby, where catering crews buzzed about. Tables with finger foods sat parallel to the rows of chairs, which faced a temporary platform where he and certain guest speakers would discuss the charity's goals. Above the platform was a long banner: Oceanographic Charity for Ecological Assistance and Nurturing. OCEAN, or on the formal paperwork, OCEAN-Freedom; Tristan couldn't resist linking his organization to the city that birthed his love of heroes and allowed him to, more or less, be one. The young doctor inhaled and smiled as he looked at the banner. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, he could delegate the day-to-day functions to his staff, narrow his personal contribution to pure research--he doubted that anyone would complain, given his skill in this area--and secretly spend most of his time more immersed in the Great Bay than anyone expected. He turned when he heard the front doors open, bringing in footsteps and light chatter. The earliest guests were arriving, and so, Tristan went to shake some hands.

GM Saturday, October 15th, 2016 Ashton Mall, West Freedom, Freedom City 3:23 PM It was a quiet day at Ashton Mall. A light rain, barely enough to be noticed made people stay inside, wheter at home, or at various public places. Ashton Mall was one of them. While there was quite a crowd, it was a peaceful one, families doing their weekly shopping, teenagers hanging out, people meeting for events in stores. A small crowd had formed in front of a set of TVs, showcasing a new Episodic TV series premiering later this month, some people were sitting inside a hobby store. A sale at a local independent clothes store had attracted some people too, looking for high quality clothes. All in all, it was business as usual. Amongst the shoppers was Chris Kenzie, currently on the mall’s uppermost floor, not far below the roof, made almost entirely of glass, only a few beams supporting it. Many people disliked the roof being set up like this, but on rainy days, it had a pleasant look, the water slowly running down the slight incline. And then, suddenly, Chris felt like this day was about to change. A noise was approaching, one suggesting that things were about to heat up. Distant at first, it became louder at a rapid pace. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH” And then, the screaming was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. A lot of glass breaking, as whoever had been screaming hit the middle of the mall’s roof, causing most of it to break and rain glass shards (and water) down, across the mall.

GM ???? ????, Freedom City, New Jersey Wednesday, October 5th, 2016 ???? PM Ace Danger When Ace awoke he found himself in a room of mirrors. His lips were notably dry. Having no memory of how he came to be in what appeared to be a funhouse mirror room, Ace could take comfort in the fact that he seemed to still possess much of his equipment. But, it was hard to say if the internationally renowned man of mystery was traveling a little light when the past few hours were a haze. Arcturus When Arcturus awoke his mouth felt unusually dry. He found himself bereft of memories of the past few hours. Leaving him with absolutely no explanation how he found himself in a seemingly empty corridor. Empty, but not silent the sounds of bells and whistles flooded his head. Accompanied by a loud thud every so often as the sound of an object colliding against a nearby wall reverberated through the area. The opposite of the corridor seemed to open up into different pathways, whereas the path behind Marcus seemed to have no other hallways and simply a single door. Wayward Valerie Cain had some vague notion of what how she found herself in this predicament. After all, it was during her concert that things took a turn for the ugly. She was just about to start her set for the crowd, after warming them up with a plead to donate their old toys to the charity drive funding the concert. That was when the gas hit... But, that was then. Now Wayward found herself playing for an entirely different crowd. A pack of lions encircled her. Armed only with her wits and a low cheaply made microphone, Valerie Cain transitioned to her latest career move as a lion tamer.

GM ASTRO Labs Downtown, Freedom City, NJFriday, October 28th, 2016 11:00 PM There were many sounds one didn't want to hear in Freedom City's illustrious tech sector. Explosions could signify a castrophic event, or even the game changing creation of a new powered player in town. Screams and wails often followed a tear in the natural laws of the universe. Then there was of course H. Gordon Willicker's crickety knee. A sound that would be inevitably be followed with a ten minute description of the current pains that plagued his body. In graphic detail. But, the worst sound? Absolute silence. Just after the silence alarm was tripped in the world renowned ASTRO Labs facility, not a peep could be heard. Or seen for that matter. The patrol cars had yet to arrive on the scene, but news was quickly spreading throughout social media. Something weird was happening in ASTRO Labs...

GM Holt Hotel Midtown, Freedom City, NJWednesday, September 28th, 2016 12:00 PM The terrific Holt Hotel blends comfortably into the downtown area of Midtown's residential district. Despite being considered a budget hotel, the warmly decorated rooms seem to have a sleek almost futuristic furnishing style. Bathroom's are oasis inspired with a splash of color. Room service was closed after 8pm, but while active the food was a passable mix of American cuisine. Despite the fantastic amenities, at the end of the day it is still a value hotel. Far less luxurious than the sort of place one would expect multiple time bestselling author to hang his hat. Much less kill a woman. Yet a cursory glance of Enest Steinbeck's hotel room in the Holt Hotel had a story to tell. A story of a beheaded woman, her head nowhere to be found, posing on the bed. An eerie and outright disturbing scene that was quite literally a recreation of Steinbeck's first novel's big murder scene. No one had an account for Steinbeck's whereabouts. Steinbeck's last novel was released a decade ago. Coupled with his well known recent drinking habits, the media circus had already painted a villain. Except, there was absolutely no trace of the author. And no visible signs that he had ever left the room.

Winifred was still relatively new to being a friend, having been something of a consummate loner growing up in her native time period but she liked to think that she managed to be a reasonably good one, uncontrolled bouts of mass destruction aside. Certainly she still managed to be better socialized than the majority of her circle of peers, enough so that she'd been quick to scoop up her bag and borrowed music player and make her excuses when her roommate's boyfriend had knocked on their door. She'd almost let curiosity get the better of her once and asked Robin how exactly that worked before deciding that neither upsetting her friend or sitting through a detailed explanation were outcomes she particularly wanted. The Victorian was much happier to simply give the couple their privacy. That did leave her somewhat at loose ends, however. Normally she would have put in some time in the chemistry lab but the most interesting equipment there was in the process of being repaired or replaced and as those weren't entirely unrelated facts she had been strongly encouraged to find other ways to spend her time until further notice. The weather had turned brisk enough to discourage a trip outdoors without a destination in mind and the common room wasn't an appealing option, not at a time of day where she knew it would be crowded; the altercation with Madison and her squad hadn't done Winifred's reputation around campus any great favours. The miniature in-ear speakers Matthew had lent her made avoiding conversation while traversing the halls considerably easier but she'd found they did distressingly little to discourage interruption while sitting in one place. Sighing quietly to herself she placed them in her ears and gingerly pressed the triangular button on the player. Perhaps Raina and Cathy would allow her to hole up in a corner of their room for a while. It wouldn't be much warmer than the quad but the Scot was always eager enough to lend a wool jumper to any visitors.