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Thaelia looked down at Koa, the scrawny youth's stature hid an impressive might from what she had been told. Impressive enough to rival a barbarian warlord, royal, or even herself. A fact that made Claremont Academy the location most uniquely suited into helping the youth better learn the use of his abilities. For his safety, and the safety of others. Still, she was surprised when the senate came forward with the request for her to pull some strings to enroll into Claremont Academy. Not that the administration ever needed much convincing in shaping the superpowered youths of the future. No, it was the fact that she was even on speaking terms with the Atlantean Senate that surprised her. Not everyone was mind controlled that day, and the image of an Atlantean princess going against Atlantis was hard to forget. "There is much to be done. The examination of your abilities in the Doom Room is first item on our agenda. I will have words with the administration in the meantime, do take care to not accidentally maim another student." The Atlantean demigoddess was attempting to be reassuring. To an outsider her words may have potentially carried a sort of insensitive bit of bluntness. Or just insanity. After all, it wasn't every day someone mentioned maiming in a school context.

October 2nd, 2017, 2.17PM Freedom City University, North End, Freedom City, New Jersey, USA Reinstein Hall "So is of the case! Thank Marssaulize Benjawan for hadbringing us to that 'tention! Envirolonament and is...primary determiner of what morals you got!" Professor Sullivan Mash, PHD of medical ethics, simmered behind his desk. His bulky brown suit bulged with the steely muscles beneath, the sweat standing out on his shiny grey head beading under the harsh lights of the auditorium-style classroom, intersected with stark black lines of tattoos. From one ear dangled a ring of gold that would have been a good bracelet on a smaller man, which brought out his pitch-black eyes. "Sully" had no indoor voice to begin with and had a keen appreciation for the dangers of letting the students in the back down by softening his words for those up front. So while, as ever, his class was jam-packed, there was none of the sotto voce chattering and whispered conversation Mali was used to from last year. 'Professor Smash' had a keen eye on top of his cannon-like voice, and did not suffer inattention no matter how gifted his pupils. Ripping a cloth rag from his pocket to soak on his streaming face, Sullivan gesticulated wildly with the other hand as he resumed "So bad in truck! You got carpstruption! You got haberdasher, you even got dovement inftraference! But people loves in your hands, tomorrow we examine-" he squinted at the ceiling like he was trying to burn holes in it "-im-pact of Cold-War-Ol-ym-pics on -mod-ern sports! Pegs three-fuddy to four-hundred-twelve!" He spun on his heel and slammed his grey fist onto the granite desk with a shattering THUD "Bye! Second trussed next woke! See me if you probs!" Like a dam had burst, the students sprang into action, the low hubbub of exits and entrances in education buzzing to life. A few of the students at the front took out ear plugs, looking faintly shaken. The ones who were known to take the most accurate notes were already being accosted by the rest who couldn't begin to make out what Professor Mash was saying. The lectures so far hadn't been strictly necessary, most of the material was already in the book. But piecing together the erratic mind of their teacher was always a must for those who wanted an edge. "Mali!" the word cracked out like a whip, Professor Mash pointing directly at the young woman "See more in orifice! Have fedback on lats paper!" Several of the those around Mali shot her sympathetic looks. Even if it was all good, being in enclosed spaces with Sullivan could be harrowing. elsewhere Ravenna Blackwood was a tall, cool glass of stout, handsome despite the years she carried on her elegant shoulders and aristocratic face lined with cares. She dressed well, but not with an aim to dazzle or impose, a simple sweater of dark blue and crepe pants still worth more than all the clothes Jon had ever owned. A silver necklace bearing a single dark opal glimmered around her slender neck, framed by her long, thick black mane. She'd called Jon there for a job, explaining over the phone that it was a delicate, sensitive matter that required the utmost caution and discretion. So she had brought him to an upscale club in North End, gotten them a private alcove, and told her sad tale. With a sigh, Ravenna set down her glass, untasted, and fixed Jon with her tawny eyes: "There is a supervillain working at the university. My ward attends his classes. I want him exposed and...removed." In the dark of the corner, her eyes almost seemed to glow. "Can you do this?"

JR's Family Farm and Corn Maze, Egg Harbor Township, NJ. Saturday, September 23rd, 2017. Shortly before 10:00 pm The Richardson family had given the heroes the use of their barn for this initial planning session; Emily Richardson had been nice enough to provide coffee, donuts and several lanterns, but Grimalkin, 'the Mistress of Mystery', had conjured up the long table and a dozen chairs that currently occupied the center of the barn. She'd also playfully decorated the place with colorful streamers, cobwebs and a few skeletons. The barn was redolent with the smells of farm animals and hay. Grouped at one end of the table were three figures; two of them were instantly recognizable by those who knew Freedom City's heroes, but the third, not so much. Grimalkin and her partner in all things the Shrike were joined by an older man in a wheelchair with a gray ponytail who wore a mask made from a black bandana with eyeholes cut in it, but otherwise wore well-worn denim and a pair of black Doc Martins. All of them were enjoying a cup of coffee, waiting for the others to arrive. After a few minutes of waiting, the older man checked his watch and sighed dramatically. "So how late do you think this meeting will go? You know your mom doesn't like me out late on Saturdays." "'Butch', can you please ixnay on the ecret identity-say? Some heroes are paranoid; they might be casing the joint invisibily to see if its a trap." Butch looked around nervously. "Oh, right...hadn't thought of that. 'Loose lips', am I right?" "Exactly." A few minutes later, the older civilian cleared. "Look, if I'm gonna join you on your adventures, can I at least get a utility belt or something? I don't have super-cool powers like you and your girlfriend here." "Dad, I'm not gonna get you a utility belt; you'd...try to use the laser blowtorch and burn the house down." Butch sniffed and folded his arms. "Fine, just let the bad guys take your old man hostage, then!" "Dad, just...ooh!" No said anything for several minutes until Gretchen reached out with her mental link. -You two are adorable.- -Quiet, you!-

GM Thursday, April 13th, 2017 The Freedom Ledger Office, Freedom City 2:24 PM It was a slow news day so far. There had been some reports about a corrupt politician going around the entire last week, so the quiet was certainly appreciated by most of the office. Everybody needed some time off occasionally. Still, slow news days meant that generally, the one thing most people did was smalltalk. Smalltalk, or stare at the screen of their respective preferred devices. Something which Dancia Devons now had ample reason to do, as she received a message by an unknown number. Which, in her line of work, usually either meant trolls, death threats, or information. In this case, it was, most likely, the latter. Hey Remember that thing you said back at the Christmas party Have something that might interest you, and could need some help with it Where and when can you meet me Preferably Riverside, but I can adapt -Bonfire

June 4, 2017 The rails out of Greenbank might not have run trains out to Goldman Quarry anymore but that didn't mean the abandoned hole in the ground never saw visitors. At some point in the early aughts a Claremont student who's name had been lost to the annals of high school history had hit upon the quarry as a good place to test out powers a little too destructive for supervised sessions in the Doom Room and the location had been passed from rebel to loner to misunderstood problem child. Every few years the faculty had reason to make it clear that students were to stay well away from the quarry but those who made use of it tended to prefer asking forgiveness rather than permission anyway. At least that's how Riley had explained it to Winifred after they'd begun searching for somewhere to test the new explosives they'd been tinkering with in the chemistry lab. "You're sure you know where you're going?" the alchemist shouted over the noise of the wind, seated behind the survivalist on his motorcycle. They'd already driven clear across the length of the city from Bayview but she still hadn't decided which was the more terrifying conveyance between Smith's bike and Sanderson's flying broomstick.

The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship! September 29, 2017 Whump. Whump. Whump. Erik Espadas' fists impacted the punching bag suspended from the dojo's ceiling over and over, hard enough to rattle the chain and give him time to switch up his footwork between strikes as the bag swung back toward him. It wasn't rhythmic exactly, as his attacks varied staccato triplets of quick jabs to single heavy swings with the entire weight of his body behind them. Even so their was a somewhat hypnotic quality to the overall pattern, his steady breathing framing the train of percussion while a light sheen of sweats showed on the skin exposed by his light tank top. He'd been at it when Raina had decided to set up in one of the stackable chairs lying against the back wall and he'd kept at it for at least ten straight minutes since, gradually picking up speed and punishing the bag more and more severely. He'd definitely seen her come in but hadn't said anything, expression focused and uncharacteristically severe. While the teenager knew the swordsman wasn't baseline human she was pretty sure he didn't have any measure of super strength and wouldn't be punching the bag clean off of its securely fastened chain. He certainly seemed to be making a go of it nonetheless. Whump. Whump. Whump.

Saturday, September 9, 2017 3:06 AM The Witching Hour Lantern Hill at the best of times was rarely a lively place, yet in the darkness of the night even the dead slumber silent and still. The moon casts a cold light upon the landscape, dispelling the mists and shadows, though not all. There are places its light does not touch, and here the night creatures flit from their hidden crevices into the open world beyond, free from the beings who walk the streets by day. Dogs roam the alleyways in packs, snouts turned to the ground in search for food. Cats tiptoe high above on fences and roofs, glowing eyes watching in a predatory light. And rats scurry in the sewer and secret passageways, peeling back layers of wood and board with gnawing teeth. Once stately things, the old Victoria-era manors lay empty along one road in Lantern Hill, overlooking Freedom City in their lots overgrown with weeds and the dead husks of trees. The roofs are patchworks of missing shingles and dead leaves, brickwork turned to rubble and paint hanging in tatters from the foyer, brown from age, swaying sleepily in the breeze, and in the quiet of the night a lone feline perches on a chimney top. It pauses midway from licking its paw and twists in place to look up. Another figure streaks a silhouette against the purple sky. High above the stillness of the ground, the icy winds buffet her armor but she heeds that no mind, snugly ensconced in steel. Instead, her mind flows in equations and derivatives, codes and images and meanings and symbols, all blurring into one and another to form a mess of thoughts. But she lets the cold air in, and the chill drags her awake, forcing her focus better than a mug of espresso. Absentmindedly, she scans her surrounding area, aware of both physical and magic happenings yet all is silent and still. Even magic needs to sleep.

Flamborough Head Promontory, Yorkshire England October 31st, 7:06 AM From seemingly out of nowhere on the morning of Halloween, a dense fog rolls into the waters outside of Yorkshire. This would not be so unusual, especially for the time of year, but up until exactly 7:06 the weather had been unseasonably warm and no clouds dotted the horizon. No indication whatsoever gave warning, and what followed after was stranger still. From the depths of Flamborough Head, a rumbling came, the sea started churning, wails could be heard for miles around, ghostly disembodied wails that put ice in the bones of all that heard it. As if called, the captains of all vessels currently sailing the ocean felt pulled for an instant to this exact spot, whether they be pleasure boat captains, tug boat captains, or simply a man on his yacht looking to do a little fishing on a warm Tuesday morning. From the churning burst forth a ship, a ship that had not been seen for over 200 years. It's railings and deck and sails emitted an ethereal red glow and it was partially transluscent. Anabelle Flint felt that pull stronger than most, and was surprised when one of her Skeleton Crew, Handsome Jack, burst into her quarters, it's eyes aglow with an alien yellow light. The revenant wasn't acting the way her crew usually behaved. He stood with back straight, his bony hands crossed behind his back and standing in what could easily be seen as a military at ease. It's decaying chin held high it spoke in a voice that commanded respect, it spoke like a ship captain. "Captain Flintlock, I am Rear Admiral John Paul Jones. The Bonhomme Richard has risen, and you are needed."

Morley's Pub September 16th, 2017, Saturday @ 2100 Maxie walked into Morley's and smiled at the already gathering crowd. He needed this, needed some time to relax, even if he was being forced into his superhero get up. He remembered thinking idly that He was rarely ever in it when doing actual heroing, as it always seemed to catch him by surprise, but he had to admit he cut a dashing figure in an all leather black biker outfit with flames stitched into them up the arms and legs. It was early still, around 9 PM and so the place hadn't quite filled out yet. The entertainment on the docket today was billed as Super Hero Appreciation Karaoke Night. Apparently the heroes of the city were supposed to show up in their digs and sing some for the crowd and their fellow do gooders. This sounded like an excellent idea to Maxie, aka: Spitfire. He had spent most of his life as a performer, a carnival fire breather to be exact but crowds were all the same. They just wanted a good show and Maxie knew just the song to give them that good show. Seeing that the crowd wasn't quite big enough yet, though, he decided to wait. He walked up to the bar, greeting the patrons as he went. Most did not recognize him personally, he was relatively new in town, again. But they recognized a hero get up when they saw one and offered praise and claps on the back as he made his way to the bar. "Laphroaig Triple Wood, if ya got it please. If not, any Scotch of 12 years or older should do. As long as it's single malt! That blended stuff is atrocious." Max smiled as the drink was handed to him and took a long deep sniff of the alcohol. Drinking scotch was a lot like drinking wine, you had to do it right. You had to acclimate your senses to the smell so the alcohol wouldn't overwhelm the flavors. Recognizing the peaty aroma of the triple wood, Max closed his eyes and let out a slow happy sigh. This was gonna be a good night.

How did this happen? Who knows? The point was that Mannequin had found himself in an abandoned warehouse. Except even that didn’t seem right. There was something…off about it. It was like someone’s idea of an abandoned warehouse rather than a real one. There was a voice as a woman in neon blue striped black appeared almost out of nowhere. “This is a test. Let’s see what you can do.” The woman cracked her neck and assumed a combat stance.

Oddfellows Building, Lantern Hill 7:02 PM, August 15th. The room was rented out for a little meeting of practitioners, the invites had gone out, including to one Professor Peculiar. It was intended as a social gathering of sorts, and people had already shown up as well, mostly with people who were familiar, or at least seen as people who were factors in and around West Freedom. It was put forth by a Stavros, owner of the most amazing tea shop (if he was asked) in the West End, an older man who possessed of the most impressive mustache in the Tri-State area. He was humming as he was making some tea here. In additional there was the short, punky looking Shaul, a local artist, and other things, she had a battered and patched denim vest, with a a hoodie pulled over her face a cup of steaming cup of Stavros' special mint tea. Chatting with Shaul was an older woman, Amanda, who owned an herbal, and wildcraft supplies store. Unlike the younger woman, Amanda was dressed conservatively, a bit like the liberal soccer mom type. There was also a young couple, who may, or may not, had a bit of talent, James and Kendra, but they were both Anthropology students at FCU so were interested in this. This collection was capped off by a 'cowboy singer' off to one side, who was looking passed out with a hat pulled down over his face, and slumped in a chair. One Johnny Perdition. The tattooed and hard living member of this loose affiliation.

An old lady enters into a dark room before she lights a candle as it brings meager light into the room the only sound heard is the sound of her footsteps dragging across the floor. "Once upon a time there were heroes in a city" she croaked in an old voice speaking to no one in particular. "And one day the heroes came upon a great mystery" she says before a big evil grin comes across the old ladies face. Meanwhile at the Wharton State Forest a ranger is doing his morning rounds, as he goes over forested hill and pass yonder creeks he comes upon a part of the park he's never seen before "odd" is the only word that escapes his lips as he notices a number of purple tree's "HQ can you check with the last person who checked this area and see if he noted anything about purple bark" says the park Ranger as he moves in for a closer look. As he brings a hand up and touches the bark when he pulls it away the purple color has grafted on to his fingers "weird" he says before he tears off the bark it gives away easily like rotted wood. "Oh no" is the last thing that escapes his lips before he notices something he's seen before. "HQ we got a ...ungh problem, seems the trees have a contagious disease... and" Says the Ranger before the sounds of grunting can be heard over the radio. "Why won't this come off" he utters as he wipes furiously at his hands that are covered in a purple shade. "We need to call some specialist to come up here, and have the first aid kit ready for me when I arrive" 3 hours later what seemed at first as a problem for forest goers and rangers gets worse as a news woman on the scene begins to describe in detail the slowly spreading disease that seems to be incurable any attempts to try have ended in, 5 cases of people being turned purple. I can confirm the 5 people are in totally good health but they seem to be quarantined and any contact with them seems to result in turning purple as well. This is Nancy Tucker and I plan to stay on this story until all the answers are your's freedom city. says Nancy as a small crowd of 20 people that are hikers and concerned citizen's begin to gather at one of the forest ranger outposts

A young man runs through a park, then into his dorm room. "GUYS you won't believe what I saw in Midtown, there's this huge like street that just showed up and then BAM!!!! like actors and stuff started playing music, fire-dancers, Belly dancers, and people flying through the air I think I think its a parade" he says as he and his friends rush back to Midtown. In Midtown almost as if by magic a large Parade has descended on the city what once was a busy street in midtown has now become a huge parade, with elephants, dancers and huge balloons making there way down the streets, and at the center of it all stands a huge pavilion being carried by at least a thousand people. Its stark gold and purple banners flutter in the wind. Standing atop the large pavilion in the middle of the float stands a tall handsome looking man in expensive regalia of a Sultan, Behind him a band plays a large and boisterous tune over the celebration as more and more people begin to gather to watch this impromptu Parade. Large assortments and retinues in the parade have different groups of large animals being displayed in cages and with leashes. Beautiful woman belly dance on the streets as they sing praises to this prince standing on the pavilion. Seeing as this is a busy street being taken over traffic throughout the city becomes much slower as word travels about this parade. Freedoms Cities Finest soon find it impossible for them to intervene as some sort of mysterious power keeps them from ever reaching the parade street, making it so they remain in traffic or become to fatigued to either run or walk the distance to the parade. "Prince Ali we love you" can be heard through out the crowd as the man in the regalia steps to the edge of the pavilion and waves at the masses.

September 2017 Bedlam City Culver's As Esperanza dug into her Mint Brownie ice cream cone, Anna Cline lined up her pills and took them, one after the other. Maybe biologically she was a good thirty years younger than her age on the calendar - but thirty years off 82 wasn't so young in the grand scheme of things. That was why she'd taken the tomato soup with her ButterBurger, and why she was drinking the unsweetened tea. (She and Espy were splitting an order of cheese curds. She wasn't ready to give up on flavor yet.) When she'd finished with her medicine, Anna smiled at her erstwhile protege. "It ain't much of a congratulatory dinner, but it's what you deserve. I didn't get my GED till I was-" "fifty-six years old and in stir," Esperanza finished with a smirk around green-stained lips. "You've told me that story a thousand times, Anna." It was good to see the kid smiling, Anna reflected, even if it was at her expense. From what she remembered of raising a teenager, a full lifetime ago, that was usually how it went. It was late outside, and out the front window Anna could see cars moving by on the Interstate, heading down the peninsula. The fast food restaurant had the anonymity that came with the tourist crowd of the Labor Day weekend coupled with highway traffic. A dangerous place for their mutual enemy to start trouble. "It's a good story, honey," said Anna with a smirk of her own. "You know," she commented quietly. "I've been thinkin'. I've got some money comin' my way, and if I spend it right, I could get us a place here in town." That news was startling enough that Esperanza stared at her from over her cone, the ice cream in her mouth stopping any immediate response. "If that's still what you want." Smart thinking would have had them get the hell out of this crappy little town and find help for their mutual problem - but that would have meant abandoning Esperanza's family, the city where Anna'd been born, and probably ticked off the lady who lived in the hat Esperanza was keeping in her backpack. While Esperanza was thinking about that, another small group came through the restaurant's doors, Anna's eyes briefly flickering to them.

GM "I do mean to apologize, again," Doctor Browning was insisting - for about the fourth time, by Indira's reckoning - as he stood there wringing his hands. "I really simply do not know how the alarm went off like that, much less falsely. It's the budget cuts, you see; we don't really have many maintenance staff left...." The building had certainly seen better days. At some point in the past, the Hanover site had been some manner of large research and development facility, with the footprint of a warehouse and the multi-story brick design of an office building. As recently as a few years ago it might have been a bustling center of the sort of science that came accompanied by mad laughter and lightning bolts, but from what the ghost and the alien had seen on their way up it now housed sheet-covered machines and abandoned labs, the outside keeping up appearances while the inside was slowly claimed by dust and entropy. Not that foreknowledge of the metaphorical rot in a financially collapsing research institute would have kept them out, of course. Kimber Storm and Indira Singh had been in the area on other business, but they weren't likely to ignore a piercing shriek of an alarm, nor an old man rushing down the sidewalk shouting about assailants and his "precious findings". Which, unfortunately, led them to their current predicament. "Problems of the past, surely!" chimed in Doctor Whale, before anyone else could - a recurring problem. He was thinner than his portly companion, and clean-shaven to his partner's mustache, with only slightly more optimistic hand-wringing as he circled their prized possession. Clear on the top floor of the building, they'd found the object of their concern sitting exactly where it had been left yesterday: a curious sphere, pulled apart into two halves, wires and devices trailing out of it and into the monitors and unnameable science paraphernalia. "Why, we'll be back on the map with this, in no time. You'll see. No false alarms will stop us, no sir, no how, and then we can get this place right humming again, with all-new alarms and better security and new labs...." The only person not wringing his hands sighed - a larger, better-dressed businessman with close-shaved hair, briefly referenced to by the others as a 'Mr. Bole'. "Please pardon them," he said in a light accent, offering Ghost Girl and Wraith a sympathetic look at the severe lack of polite disengagement they'd been offered so far. "I don't want to waste any more of your time. They're brilliant, but...excitable. It's the sphere, you see - some military and government groups are starting to offer 'safe' alien or extra-dimensional technology out to some of us for research, if they can't make anything of it, and...well. I guarantee that what happens here will finally pull this company back out of the red, but you don't need to be here for that. If you don't mind, I'll show you out myself, before Doctor Hitch bursts in and completes the trio, and you never esca--" The door to the lab burst open, a severely winded man in a lab coat gasping for air after apparently sprinting his way up the building - a scene the heroines had seen three times, now, in ever-diminishing levels of impressiveness. "I got the - t-the alert!" he shouted, too much volume echoing around too much space. "Is...is it okay? Did anyone break in and t-take it?"

The Gooble, Ordon-Class Freighter Somewhere in Space, travelling towards the Sharahazad Sector The news of “the Sharahazard Crisis” had spread far. So far, in fact, that even on Earth, attentive people could hear about it. Of course, travelling across a large part of known space was no easy task, especially for inhabitants of a planet without any real galactic presence of its own. Still, people with the right connections had ways of getting into space, and from there finding a pilot who was flying towards the Sharahazad sector was as easy as it ever would be. Seemingly every other person had a reason to make the journey. Amongst them was Hugol, a small-scale merchant who had stopped at the largest commercial hub close to Sol. He’d picked up quite a few people who were travelling towards the Sharahazad sector, their reasons as different as their looks. Some of them clearly more experienced than others, some not even able to speak Galstandard. He wondered what they were seeking, but it had already been enough trouble to negotiate the journey, he didn’t feel like asking. Some of them were terrans. Amongst them, Doctor Deoxy, who had heard that some of the refugees offered to trade scientific data, or even let people get data directly from their body, as an exchange for all sorts of goods. Travelling to the same place, but for an entirely different reason, was Professor Peculiar. The news of large-scale refugee movements happening at a different corner of the galaxy had reached him too, and he had a good reason to get a first-hand impression of what was happening.

September 2017 Riverside Marsha's In a perfect world, the experience of one sort of discrimination would prevent other forms of discrimination. But then a perfect world wouldn't need superheroes. Of the bars, bookstores, and cafes of Freedom City's gayborhood in Riverside, Marsha's was one of the few that catered particularly to LGBT people of color. From Sylvia Rivera on one wall to Bayard Rustin on the other, with shelves of LGBT books on one side and a coffee bar with nearby stage on the other, it had the homey atmosphere of a long-attended, long-populated neighborhood establishment. There was a smooth jazz quartet on stage this afternoon as a growing crowd filled in. It was Poetry Night and the coffee was hot, the biscuits were warm, and it was going to be one hell of a night. Riley Quinn-Smith shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fighting the urge to adjust the black fedora he wore on his carefully-shaved head. His years on Earth-Prime had gotten him used to crowds of strangers, and he had to admit he liked seeing the faces of so many people who, like him, were a little less than whitebread when it came to who they dated. It was what was on the agenda for later that made him uneasy. "This is stupid," he finally whispered to the other boy across the table from him. To the other Riley. The other Riley was skinnier and softer at the same moment, in a black suit and tie that made him contrast slightly with Riley's own purple-plaid shirt and jacket. His goatee was a little thicker and he had a mustache, but the resemblance was striking enough to instantly peg them as brothers. Of course the reality was, they were more than brothers. Duplicates across dimensions, who'd worked out at least some of their differences in the last two years. "This is stupid," hissed the Riley who was uneasy in his seat. "Nobody's gonna give a damn." "It's not stupid," said the other Riley, a look of confidence on a dark face that was rounder than his counterpart's but whose eyes were no less intelligent. The noise of the crowd and the music was already such that nobody was giving them a second look. "We wait till it's darker and everybody's watching the show, you swing in and do your thing. Show 'em the T in LGBT." "Nobody's gonna give a damn," Riley muttered, staring into his coffee. "Shoulda gone out with Robin tonight..."

August 2017 Downtown Bedlam Anna Cline's (Temporary) Apartment Anna woke up in bed, taking a moment to take in the situation. Even with the slow fading of her powers over the last few decades, the situation was easy enough to take in a moment or two. She was in bed, in the apartment where she and Esperanza had been staying the last few weeks. The girl had dropped out of high school after the incident with the Hammer of Justice, and Anna herself had left behind the apartment she'd actually rented under her own name. She could have taken Espy out of the city, dropped her in Freedom or even back in Florida, but Esperanza had said she didn't want to leave her ma or just run away from the man who'd abused her, so they'd stuck around and technically lived as fugitives. They'd moved every couple of weeks, paying cash with the money Anna got from the drug pushers and lousy pigs she took down as Lady Horus, and for the second time in her life, Anna Cline was taking care of a kid. She'd made a lot of plans, bringing home books from the Bedlam library, making sure Espy kept up with her studies so she could get herself a GED and get somewhere other than this one-horse town Anna had tied herself to because it was better than doing nothing with her life. The kid was smart, the kid was strong, but you didn't get anywhere in the hero world unless you had an education. Of course, it would have been easy enough for her to teach Espy to steal. Or encourage it, anyway, her sidekick certainly hadn't shown any hesitation about picking locks or swiping things for her mentor, and with her skills and smooth tongue she'd have made a fine little apprentice thief. Espy reminded Anna a lot of herself as a kid, and for that matter a lot like her boy, a which was why she tolerated the backtalking, the light fingers, the lying, and the outright complaining a lot more than a lot of mothers of her generation Of course, that didn't mean there wasn't stress now and again - stress that came from searching for a murderous vigilante who wanted her dead, lying to her son and her family about why she was in Wisconsin, from wearing the helmet of a god and hearing the whispers of the shadow of a goddess who could only tell her that the great trial was coming soon and that she needed to be ready. And Anna was ready, she had been ready from the moment she'd put on the helm, a queen taking on the likeness of the goddess she'd always known herself to be. She'd never been really good at waiting. It sometimes made her - She blinked a few times, thinking about the night before, and the bar, and thinking about being old and outliving all her friends, and all the things she'd never done in almost eighty-three years of living, and sat up, automatically pulling the sheet up to below her shoulders. Espy was knocking on her door with the double rap-rap she'd taught her, the Helm of Horus was safe in the bedroom closet, and there was another woman in bed with her. Well you knew this was going to happen, Anna, you were stone-cold sober last night, her inner voice chided her. "Just a minute, honey!" she called, rising to her feet and digging around for her clothes faster than a woman of her apparent age should have been able to. "That's, uh, sorta my foster kid," she admitted to Nicola as she pulled her dress down over her head. They'd gotten each other's names but not much beyond that. "So you may wanna..."

South Pointe, Miami Beach 10th July 2017, Early Afternoon One of the places you went to in Miami if you wanted to see and be seen it was Miami Beach and today the one place to be seen was the extravagant beachside party to celebrate the coming of age of heiress Ruth Aster. The entire party had been painstakingly designed around an Ancient Egyptian theme, from the Hollywood accurate costumes of the staff to the slightly less accurate but much more expensive designer dress that Ms. Aster wore. The whole party area was even decorated with Ancient Egyptian art, the center pieces being two massive, and real, statues of Horus and Set towering over the party and glaring at each other. The guest list was a veritable who's, who of the business and entertainment world with rumors abound that Tom Cruise and Sofia Boutella had been invited due to the suitably timed themed. One thing that Ruth had wanted, and had sent feelers through almost every media method for weeks, was for Ancient Egyptian themed superheroes, with a promise of a very generous donation to their charity of choice if they'd turn up to the party to meet the young heiress.

GM The Eclipse Bar September 16th, 23:00 It was another packed night at the Eclipse bar. The previous weeks drama had only increased the demand for tickets. To cap it all, Aortic Valve were playing again, to show their defiance against intimidation and threat. Verity was singing again, louder and more violent than ever. There was still a line outside, trying to get in. Pleading, begging, bluffing, manipulating. But Rob the Troll, the huge bouncer of the Eclipse, with a punched up face and knuckles that did a lot of punching up, was having none of it. A police car was outside. Parked there for the evening. FC Police were not in the mood to have another incident like last week. Stolen rubies, collapsed buildings, shattered glass. It wasn't a pretty night, last week....

GM Rusty Spike's Tattoo Parlour The Theatre District 16th September Spike Head was a tall thin man with a bald head and a long beard. He had a rather messy and wonderful scar running across his forehead, which he gave various conflicting stories about. A gang of ninja's, a jealous ex-wife, a radioactive pineapple. He had a wicked laugh and plenty of wicked tattoo's that varied from saucy to x-rated. They showed off his skill, he said. He was an advertisement for his shop. Right now he was finishing off a tattoo on the shoulder of an attractive blond woman who was leaning on a bench, topless, but wearing the most almighty hefty boots and leather trousers. Her spine was a terrifically wild line of angels and demons locked in some epic war. "Finished in a moment, Carmen..." mumbled Spike, taking pride and care over his work. There were a couple of other tattoo artists doing their trade, but Spike was clearly the boss. Spike looked up as Mr. Compton walked in, quickly recognising him. "Come to see how its done, have you, Mr. Compton?" he laughed his cackling laugh.

GM The Totality. The Solar Eclipse. Happens all the time, but why focus on it now? It has some magical significance for the Yellow Sign. Something about the Pact being weaker? Who knows, those guys are nuts. While they're being dealt with by other heroes, we focus on our daily life in Freedom City. Heroes with equally important tasks. Grimalkin, fae hero of great power. Spitfire, twisted firestarter. Red Moon, 'vampire'. Scion, former Olympian goddess. Going about their days as usual. Maybe they're fighting crime. Maybe they're trying to watch the eclipse (Good luck, only 70ish percent in New Jersey!)

GM The Eclipse Night Club September the 9th, 23:30 The Eclipse night club was booming to industrial Gothic Beats, an effective repetitive sound of limited musicality and excessive passion. Aortic Valve where playing and had been expressively forbidden from any self-harming blood throwing antics. On another night, this might not be the case, but the Eclipse did, from time to time, open its doors to the 16-18 age bracket with clear parameters for acceptable behaviour. Gotta Gotta Gotta, Gotta Gotta Gotta, Gotta Gotta Gotta Slash the Pash....ion! sang the leader Singer of Aortic Valve, Verity Vein, dressed in slashed up leathers and black make up. A bit too little of the former, a bit too much of the latter. She sang in a voice that alternated from drone to scream and was really rather effective. And 'twas on this night that Bird of Arms was out partying. And the place was packed. Not just with the 16 and 17 year olds, but older adults too. Alcohol was not served, but a frenzied spirit was, and in copious quantities. Rob the Troll was enjoying the show. He was six foot six and hideously ugly, not helped by a broken nose and scar that ran down his face bisected by an eye patch. His arms were as thick as most peoples legs, if not thicker, and he had tattoo's on (it seemed) every square foot of his skin. Rob the Troll kept the peace in the Eclipse, and such was his reputation that he could do it by reputation alone. However, with Bird of Arms here, his reputation and indeed his skill might not suffice. He sidled up to Bird of Arms as Slash the Passion finished (to much applause and screaming). "No trouble from you tonight, you hear?"

((Welcome to Eve and Becky’s Big Enormous Wedding Thread! In the vein of With Lovers and Friends I Still Can Recall this is a way to tell a big story from many different perspectives. Below you’ll find a rough timeline for the day including some details of location and timing, as well as some story hooks requiring superhero intervention. This thread is open to everyone to post vignettes and mini-vignettes telling their characters’ stories from that day. Because this is not a traditional vignette prompt (read: you do not get vignette reward PP for this) but it is also not a regular thread, we’re relaxing many of the normal posting rules. Your vignettes can be of any length - a full page is not required - and you may post more than one per character if you wish. The prohibition on multiple characters per thread is also lifted, so post with as many of your characters as you have stories for. Double and triple vignettes are still allowed, if you so desire and also have no length requirement. As vignettes are added by players the events of the day will be further detailed. Later posters should try and read the vignettes that came before them so they can be sure their work will fit into the developing timeline. That does not mean vignettes have to be in chronological order! Feel free to jump ahead or backfill anywhere you like, so long as it is on the wedding day. Story hooks are first come, first serve, so posting early isn’t a bad idea. If you don’t believe your character would’ve been invited to the wedding feel free to post stories about your character protecting the city while a sizable chunk of its superhero population is taking the night off. Feel free to ask in chat if you have any questions and have fun!)) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Once upon a time, two girls fell in love. Then one of the girls was possessed by a cannibalistic spirit of avarice, for which the other girl blamed herself and as second dates go it honestly could have gone better. They spent too long apart before finding each other again, reigniting a spark that had never gone out. They had adventures together, lived together not nearly enough, missed each other far too much, celebrated and mourned and eventually they decided that together was absolutely better than apart. Finally, on an August afternoon in a castle in the sky, there was a wedding. All of their friends were invited and even if not everything went as planned there aren't many obstacles a bunch of superheroes can't overcome if sufficiently determined and their friends were determined that the happy couple should live happily ever after, at least for today. Preparations for the wedding began in the morning at the Dutemps Building, with Becky and an impressive collection of Canada's greatest living champions in the penthouse apartments at the top and Eve and her bridesmaids - and one Maidnight - up in the castle. There were caterers and decorators and the mother-of-all-florists running about, which made things a little complicated for some of the obviously non-human guests! Mani-pedis, makeup, lots of last-minute advice and a champagne brunch rounded out the morning for the wedding party, along with a few shenanigans designed to make sure that the brides didn’t encounter each other before the ceremony. In the afternoon, all the dressing-up began in earnest, and then the pictures. So many pictures, professional and otherwise, with people who don’t often get photographed with their own faces and looking their best. The photographers didn’t always confine themselves to the wedding party either, arriving guests might find themselves captured on film a few times for the album. The venue was beautiful, the Gothic Revival-style chapel dedicated to St. Jeanne d'Arc was illuminated with gorgeous light through its stained glass windows and bedecked with flowers. There were a few diversions to entertain the guests, a book to sign, a little display of childhood photos of the brides, a table of snacks. There was also a nasty elevator malfunction in one of the private elevators leading up into the castle but it was sorted by helpful guests before it became a real problem. As the 3:00 PM wedding start time approached guests began to move to their seats while music played and a breeze whispered through the trees. The ceremony was beautiful and quite peaceful, though it’s hard to say what behind-the-scenes machinations may have been required to keep it that way. Jack Pegahmagabow and Eden Espadas nearly stole the show as ring-bearer and flower girl, despite subtle interventions from their uncle and parents, respectively. Otherwise, the simple and brief service, conducted by Claremont’s headmaster emeritus Duncan Summers, was focused on Becky and Eve, who stood under a flowered trellis to exchange handwritten vows and rings in front of all their friends and family. With the business of the day taken care of it was time to celebrate! The castle’s ballroom had been prepared in a fine faux-Medieval style, with dinners, drinks, and dancing inside a hall bright enough to pass for a fairy tale. A minor problem in the kitchen was quickly sorted and if the happy couple disappeared from their own party for a little while before arriving for dinner, nobody was inclined to say anything about it. There were toasts and a few short speeches after supper and then the happy couple opened the dancing with a slow turn on the dance floor to an original 1930 recording of Lucienne Boyer's Parlez-Moi d’Amour, one taken right from the Crimson Fox's personal collection. The dancing went on late into the night, helped along by a custom coffee bar manned by two experienced baristas. At one point in the evening, the power went off for nearly ten minutes, but inventive guests worked around it and the problem was quickly solved. Eve and Becky left around 9:00 in a hail of bubbles and sparks and flowers and beams of light from their friends, taking off in the private elevator up to the castle's master living quarters. Even with the guests of honor gone there was plenty of partying left to do, and it wasn’t till nearly midnight that things quieted down and the cleanup could begin.

Matt had been waiting for her. He'd been trying ever-so-hard to not look like he'd been waiting for her, and on a normal day he probably could have pulled it off with his well-honed apathy and a set of scout dogs, but there was something under his skin and it was making him somewhat less than subtle. And so he paced, or tapped his foot, or drummed fingers against his knee to some song in his head, all while periodically pulling at a bandage wrapped tightly around his left forearm. He'd tried rolling the sleeves of his black overshirt down to cover it, but they didn't cover quite enough of his wrist and at some point he'd just given up. He'd given up on a lot of things, really. "Raina!" So much for playing it cool, well done. He pulled at the bandage again, unconsciously, pulling back a bit so that she didn't feel like she was getting ambushed outside her last class for the day. "It's...not that big a deal, but I could use a favor. Maybe. I'd definitely owe you one - heck, I'd owe you two, if it goes well."