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September 15th, 3ish PM, the pool. Corinne Conrad was focusing. Visualizing what would come next, running it through her mind as she swung her arms at her sides, slowly working herself up to the next step. Which was going to be tricky, she had to use her powers. But then, they wanted people to demonstrate that, so... here she was. Trying, away from others. Or at least the classes. In her swimsuit, with her back to the pool at the side, water running off of her already from the previous efforts, and time in the pool. Then came the easy part, the physical part. The standing leap into the air, before the balls of her feet struck it like it was solid, a surface to find purchase, and she then pushed off that shimming step, and away, as she carried through a perfect arch to find herself in a handstand in midair, halting her momentum, before she worked herself into position on her hands, before allowing herself to fall forward, and into a frontflip to complete the movement and dive into the chlorinated water. This was not the first. Her arms screamed in protest, but this wasn't something she listened to before, so why would she start doing it now? Regaining her bearings she moved through the water, back to the side of the pool, and surfaced, gasping and blinking the water out of her eyes.

30 September 2018, 8AM The last two months had been a sort of down time for Moira. She and Estelle had been living together for that time, as lovers do. Moira still did the hero duties and put face time in at Morleys, but she was seemingly devoted to, gasp, one person! Not that she minded. And she hoped that Estelle didn't mind. It was cute being a couple. At first it was like 'well, i see other people'. And they were fine with that. But they grew close. Now Moira rarely strayed. Here she was, cooking breakfast for her love. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, potatoes, and more. Lots of them. It smelled like a breakfast bistro in the loft. Wafting all over, reaching the nostrils of Estelle as she slept.

In the past year, three racing champions had been murdered by, of all things, an archer. The shots were, in a word, impossible. The female sailor racer had been killed at sea, with nothing around for miles. The male dogsled racer was found when his dogs dragged him and his sled back into town. There’d been a killing blizzard that had shut down travel to the miles wide region for over a week, and the locals swore up and down nobody else had set out on the trail. The third had been a female marathoner, struck down in the American Southwest while training. In the desert. With several witnesses who swore nobody else was around for miles. September 28, 2018. Freedom City. Just outside Ashton and Grenville. Horizon Festival Main Stage. 9 AM. There would be over a hundred different races held, in varying skill rankings. Anyone with a driver’s license and an automobile that could pass an inspection could enter at the lowest level. The highest, however, was reserved for those who had proven their superiority over the competition. At stake? Honor, pride, and a trainload of cash. The Horizon Festival had come to Freedom City, and it was a madhouse. It was a street rally racing event primarily, but you wouldn’t know it from the stages set up what seemed like all over town. There was going to be three dozen bands playing at one time or another the entire weekend. Vendors had set up in sight of what seemed like every stage. Mechanics Alley was also open to onlookers, even if only the pro cars had slots booked in it. Because oh, yes indeed. The world’s finest street rally racers had followed the Festival to Freedom. Dominic Cortez was the grudgingly acknowledged best street rally racer in the world. He wasn’t worried about anything today. He’d drive in the kickoff race, but only for a lap. Any real racing, for him, wouldn’t be until tomorrow afternoon. As the world’s #1, he was automatically entered into the S class, highest at the Festival. The people who were worried were his agent and mechanic, Darius Greer and sister Sofia. He only trusted blood to work on his wheels. After the last murder, racing champions had gone into seclusion across almost all of racing. They only poked their heads out for events, and even then under astonishingly heavy security. Dominic Cortez was the sole exception. Leaning against the door of his car, he watched the MC blather on. The man was charismatic and effective, Dom would give him that, but honestly? Dom just wanted to get on the track already.

Danger Manor North Bay, Freedom City Saturday, September 29, 2018. 1:00 PM The discussion had begun just before the start of the school year about making a trip to the beach to get in some last bit of surfing before the weather turned and it got too cold for such activity. From there it had sort of grown to more of a general social gathering for some of the Claremont students. The Danger cousins had taken the initiative to host the gathering at Danger Manor, given the potential privacy concerns, and thus had set Prudence to work coordinating things. This had included arranging for use of the private stretch of beach at the manor, arranging for the food for the beach cookout for dinner and securing transport for those students that needed a means to get to North Bay from the school. Of course, all of this had been work on top of her normal responsibilities as the personal assistant to Janus and Veronica. The young woman glanced down at her tablet one last time, confirming that everything was going as it should as she stood near the boathouse at the end of the long dock that ran out into the water. For once she was not dressed in her impeccable business attire, instead opting for a pair of dark blue jeans and white short-sleeved blouse, over which she wore a light windbreaker. The day had turned out to be a pleasantly warm one, even if the temperature was not likely to reach the low-eighties and a light breeze blew in from the ocean. "Everything appears to be in order." She stated out loud as she lowered her tablet. "The first van containing your guests should be arriving shortly." "Great! Thanks so much for all your work in organizing all of this Prudence!' Veronica Danger replied as she walked over near Prudence, carrying the sail for a windsurfer over to where the board section was lying near the dock. The teenage danger was dressed in a full body wetsuit, but her feet were currently bare. Setting the sail down near the board, she looked around the area she had been working to help prepare the last couple of hours before looking out along the long dock. "Too bad the Danger Yacht is out at sea for the moment, but probably for the best. People might want to go aboard if it was here." She said with a small smile. Turning away from the dock, Veronica looked back inland, where a gentle hill rose up from the beach, upon which sat Danger Manor itself. "Yes, that is likely a good thing." Prudence replied in agreement. "Besides, I believe you have a sufficient amount of watercraft for those that might be interested in going out. Although, I rather expect most will prefer to just stay on the beach." "Probably." Veronica stated. "But still should be a fun time for all."

October 2, 2018. Freedom City. Hanover. The Nova Technologies, Inc Building. 2:30 AM. There was no such thing as a cake job. Shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never deal with Mr. Infamy. And most famously, kack the mage first. Street proverbs, all. Neisha Germuth knew them well. She worked in Human Resources for this branch of Nova Tech. Her skin was brown, her hair black. She showed clear Indian heritage. She dressed well, showing how far she’d come up in the world since the days where those street proverbs were the difference between life and death. And she was nervous. So much so that she put the word out for legit superheroes to meet her in the lobby tonight. Plenty of Nova’s dealings skirted (or, being more honest, outright broke) the law, and meddling superheroes could easily find out enough to cost her her job if she wasn’t careful. Still, if she was right, she’d need the help just to keep it. So she waited by the elevators, just out of sight, to see who would show up.

Bedlam First Assembly 9PM October 30th 2018 Light Rain Dr. Thorne sat nursing their drink at the dinner where their prospective, client? informant? had requested to meet. The girl had sounded scared, genuinely scared, but determined and thought the PI might just be able to get what she knew to the right kind of cops. Outside in the spotty glow of failing streetlights the occult investigator could make out the knot of hardened looking young men paying a bit too much attention to the diner. Perhaps looking for victims, perhaps trying to screw up the courage to knock over a place under the protection of one of the families. Mr. Strix had stalked, followed, the group after he'd seen the handoff of clean and disposable guns in an ally a few blocks away. They had kept to the better traveled streets not giving him alot of room to find out more but that kind of hardware was not the sort of thing for a casual carry. They intended to use it. Pastor Theo set the last of the chairs up on the table in the churches small community room. The last of the NA attendees were vanishing into the cloud of cigarette smoke that lingered outside every meeting of this sort. Event he chill rain wouldn't stop them, though one supposed it was mostly better than the less legitimate vices they were trying to kick with varying degrees of success. It was like the weather. I night that seemed to be holding it's breath. Not quite still but with an air of something to come. And then it did, in a flash of dirty scarves and worn sneakers the girl spotted the gangbangers ont eh corner and bolted nearly knocking more than one off balance junkie off their feet as she sprinted for the closest thing to sanctuary in a town like Bedlam. A church. Most of the gangs were just superstitious enough not to try anything in a house of god, most of them. Across the street Thorne and Strix saw the gang member move into action the jumpier one flashing enough of his new iron to have the junkies and other patrons clearing out before they became victims, or worse witnesses. While a pair headed around the back and a couple fanned out to watch the street in each direction just in case the apparent leader approached the door grinning through a mouthful of fake gold. "Eh man, you see my sister eh?" he snickered not even trying to hide the lie, "She need get home real quick momma gonna be worried where she get to."

1PM Philosophy Class "All right, everybody," said Judy Smith, smiling nervously as she looked around at the others in her four-person study group. (Well, three if you didn't count her sister.) The large room was full of the chatter of small groups as the divided students discussed the packet of documents the instructor had handed them; or alternatively peeked at their phones, or chatted when the instructor was across the room. "The first one says 'You are a superhero in the United States in 2020. A law has passed that says everyone with superpowers must register with the federal government. Your friends are divided on the subject - some of them think the law is a good idea because it will keep people safe, other people think the government can't be trusted with that information. Do you agree with the law? What'll you do about it, whether you agree or disagree. And there are the longer arguments...so what do you guys think?" she asked, looking around at the others. "This seems pretty easy."

Location: Just a few wrong turns from the Downtown strip of the West End Date: 9 - 23 - 18, 9:15 PM GM Post: Claremont Kids It certainly wasn't a date-date, but a 'lets check out the game store in the West End' had turned into a quick dinner and an involved discussion of the recent tabletop game shaping up for the latest crop of Claremont kids. It should have been a few quick turns to get back to the bus stop that would take them back to the safety of Claremont's dorms but a right instead of a left (or two), and the pair were decidedly nowhere near where the bus stop should be. Instead, they'd crossed the border into a dark and poorly lit Greenbank where more buildings were abandoned than not, especially at this time of night, and the rail yard loomed in the distance. They were absolutely and certainly lost. It seemed entirely deserted, at least, at first. After a few moments. Then, the faintly audible murmur of voices talking caught their attention. Peering around the corner, there was a small knot of shadowy looking individuals apparently intently arguing in low pitched Russian. At their center was a woman dressed in all black. More disconcertingly, there were certain ominous and unmarked crates sitting out. To Lulu's mental senses, the woman at the center didn't even seem to exist but she was absolutely there plain as day. Something shady was going on! GM Post: Interceptors When Talya had gotten a bit of intel on a possible S.H.A.D.O.W. cell operating near the West End, she hadn't kept it to herself. Such growth, really! Her plan, however, to infiltrate the group and ferret out the ringleader had gone over like a sack of bricks. Min, especially, hadn't been too keen on the 'I'll just let myself get captured, then we'll have plenty of information' solution of the former spy. Relationships, after all, were all about compromise. Months of work, though, and it had finally led to tonight. If everything went well, they'd finally have the information for who thought operating on the Interceptors territory was a good idea. Dressed in all black, Bombshell stood disguised in the center of some very, very dangerous people and their even more dangerous weapons, haggling for a 'good deal' for missile launchers and cluster bombs. Somewhere, out of sight, Jack of all Blades waited. She'd dropped enough hints that S.H.A.D.O.W. agents should suspect her real identity. It was a trap. Bombshell and Jack knew it was a trap, and the intended to spring it on their own terms. Everything had been accounted for. Everything, but a pair of Claremont students. Even the best laid plans...

Adam was at first delighted with the response. He wasn't sure how many of them were serious about playing, but he sent the materials out. He distributed materials for making characters and sincerely hoped that the people who said they'd come would be there. Then he got scared as he realized the implications. He had snacks, and drinks, and extra sets of dice, three copies of the player's book, an abundance of mechanical pencils, several notebooks, and a whole bunch of minis that his mom had given him. He had an inkling of what they were going to bring to the table, so he had a collection of various classes and races. He figured they could pick out their minis. "Game's starting in a bit, mom." He said as he did a mental checklist. "Yeah, yeah, it's the new edition, but most of these guys have never heard of the old stuff. Or the new stuff, probably. I dunno. Any advice?" While he waited for an answer, he paced back and forth. He had on a pair of boot cut jeans, his size fifteen sneakers, and perhaps daringly, a short sleeved shirt. He looked over them. He'd memorized every scar he bore. He wasn't going to bring it up, wasn't going to mention it. It was just too warm to wear a hoodie. He checked his laptop. He had a sound effect playlist as well as a music playlist. He probably did way too much research, he admitted. But, if he could make this work, he could make actual friends. With actual teenagers. This was a terrible idea, but he was determined to see it through.

GM September 12th, 6.05PM Freedom City, Actually, I'm not sure where, one of the alleys by the E-Sea Bank? Kind of a blur, frankly "Boss won't forget this, mask!" The words were seriously meant, but the contempt was undercut by the fact that the man in the suit saying them was, himself, wearing a balaclava. His business partners were too busy recovering from sudden, repeated blunt force happening to them to do much but glare. the merchandise were already out of the truck, blinking uncertainly and huddled in a knot. Two of the kids had swiped a cell phone from one of their captors. It was hard to feel strongly about stealing right then. If you'd asked John where they were likely from, he might have guessed Angola. Why and how they had shown up in the truck was something that would be figured out once he'd reasoned with the businessmen. "You're wasting your time, mask!" The man was perking up now "My people will have me free in a month!" "Not if you tell him you have people," pointed out one of the quieter, wiser souls lying face-first on the rain-slick asphalt, "way to prejudice the judge against your counsel, man."

The skulls weren't going to fit on the walls, and it wasn't Leroy's fault. "Dio! What is this, a prison?! Behold how cramped and mean our abode!" Covering the entire bed and part of the floor, the green dragon stretched luxuriously and gave no apparent reply. From behind the headboard, a long, forked red tongue flicked out, then vanished. "At least the barracks of the worlds liberated by my sisters, those had some rude charm!" Sighing a long-suffering sigh, Leroy sat down in a swirl of colored silk as his robes billowed. Surveying the shelves piled with bits and bobs, posters, maps, trophies, book stacks and carefully-positioned feather duster, Leroy ran a hand over his new hair. He still missed the masses of curls he'd grown up with, but the close-cut geometry of the Caesar was at least fun to skim your fingers over. He frowned, the pupils of his golden eyes narrowing to slits as he pondered the riddle of interior design logistics. He turned his eyes back to the lounging dragon "What if I just piled them at the foot and head of the bed, then I can just take them out when I want and during the day they can go over the covers?" "And where will I sssleep, O Dragon Prinsssce?" His face was draped behind the headboard, and a dragon's physiognomy is hard to read anyway, but Dio's voice carried the wry note of sarcasm perfectly. "Under that tree." Leroy pointed unthinkingly at the tall, spreading oak visible from the window. "Neither rain nor frost nor burning sun discomfort you, and I'm the one who needs sleep the more!" Dio started to reply, when his tongue, flicking out again, paused. It darted out again, for longer. "I sssmell sssomeone...your bunkmate, arrange yourssself!"

When Danica had first come to Claremont as a freshman, her parents hadn't been thrilled to see that her dorm room assignment was on the third floor. Given the length of time it took their daughter to climb a flight of stairs, it seemed likely she'd spend most of her first year of high school just trying to get in and out of her building. They were quickly reassured that Danica's room was right next to the elevator, which was more than big enough to accommodate her and her Segway in shelled or unshelled form. In the unlikely event of an emergency that shut down the elevator, she would be teleported to safely by campus security. Danica herself loved living on the third floor, it was just high enough to give her a good view of the campus and just low enough that she really could take the stairs if she needed to. This was her third year in this same dorm room and she was very used to it by now. Disembarking from the elevator, she parked her Segway next to the door of her room and walked in. As she'd kind of expected, her new roommate was already there, poring over the contents of her moving boxes. Danica's side of the room was completely empty except for the school-issued dresser, desk and bed, bare mattress and all. "Hi!" she told her roommate, walking very slowly into the room and sitting down on the edge of her mattress. "You're Selena, right? It was kind of crazy busy down there earlier."

Claremont Academy. Third Floor, Rita Kord Dorm. September 4, 2018 10:05 am Lulu didn't have too much stuff to bring in; most of her clothes were still back at the Harrows' place across in North Bay, still in the boxes and bags from the mall. She was used to travelling light, carrying her most important belongings in ziplock bags tucked into a backpack and a gym bag. Growing up in rural Alabama, there were always floods or hurricanes or tropical storms that forced you to relocate for days at a time, pulling up stakes in a hurry as you grabbed some bottled water for the road. Most of the houses in Columbia were either trailers or simple uninsulated structures that were cheap to repair or rebuild. There was no real sense of permanence; God could wipe out everything you owned with a simple wave of His hand. But Freedom was very different; everything here was built to last, or even survive assault by supervillains. The walls and floors of Claremont were thick and well-worn, scuffed and polished by the passing of hundreds of youthful hands and feet. Everything was spotless and freshly-cleaned, yet you could still feel the history of the place. Lulu found room 309 with little difficulty, and stood in the doorway for several seconds as she took in the space that would be her academic home for the next three years. Two beds, two dressers and two desks in a pleasant, airy room that somehow managed not to smell like a hotel. She picked the left-hand bed at random, dropping her two bags next to it as she laid down on her back, staring up at the ceiling, idly flexing her sneakered feet this way and that. "Well...here we are."

Saturday September Eighth 2018 10:00 AM Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship But for the low hum of an electric motor and the tinted windows the Danger International fleet car that pulled to the curb a few car lengths from the Espadas Dojo was nondescript and would hardly elicit note from passer by. This was perhaps slightly less true about it's occupants. Before exiting the car Ace turned to his niece. "Alright so, as I said, he's the best, but also a little touchy about keeping a low profile." which was to say had a standing threat to stab Ace should he descend on his home with reporters again. "So uh, casual is hte rule I guess?" Low profile was really no more in Aces vocabulary than his companions, luckily this was actually nothing but a legitimate visit for the establishments actual purpose. That said the immortal adventurer hopped from the car and strode confidently up to the doors to the dojo slipping inside to await the proprietor, he'd even done the due diligence of arriving between scheduled classes.

GM Doctor Norris North, director of W.E.S.T (World Exotic Science Taskforce) was nervous. His job of course required spinning a lot of plates, and he was not a nervous man by nature. But right now, he helped himself to a vodka. Just the one. For nerves. He was on board a Sea-plane which was descending to the cove of Dr Deoxies island. Hidden. Concealed. Remote. And by invitation. Still, even if he was invited, it was an island populated by dinousaurs and infused with radiation. He would be taking every precaution. Whilst the plane was being flown by the pilot (an experienced ex-US air force woman of stronger nerves than he), he pulled up the communication link to Doctor Deoxy. "Doctor? Doctor? Do you read me? This is North. Doctor Norris North, Director of W.E.S.T. Do we have your permission to land and...ah....where should we do so safely?" he asked, politely.

Midtown, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 1, 2018 10:05 AM The Labor Day weekend had begun, and for malls such as Millennium Mall, that meant sales designed for those going back to school. That was why Megan Howell-Harrow was at the shopping center this morning, although not all that long ago she would hardly have needed an excuse to be at the mall. The last few years had seen her out getting school clothes for her son Lawrence as he began a new year at school, though this year he had really pushed to just stay home, as shopping was far from his favorite pastime. But that was hardly the biggest change this year from previous. Toward the beginning of the summer, Megan had been contacted by Callie Summers about a new student coming to Claremont that had been removed from her family in Alabama due to criminal activity by some of her family members and who needed a foster home while attending Claremont. Megan had never really thought about being a foster parent before, but after reading over the girl's file she realized there was likely a lot she could do to help the teenager find herself a new path as she started over at Claremont. So, she and Robert talked things over with Lawrence and the decision was made to bring Louise "Lulu" Beaumont into their home. Megan turned back to look up behind her on the escalator from the parking garage at the redheaded sixteen year older standing behind her. Lulu had only just arrived in Freedom City the day before, so Megan figured that this outing would give her and the teen a bit of time to get to know one another away from Robert and Lawrence. "So Lulu, do you have any particular places you want to look at first for clothes?" She asked with a warm smile.

FCU Student Union Raphael had only heard the voice of the woman who would be teaching him. She said they would meet here at this time. So he decided to leave a little bit early. There was no work today. The parlor didn't have the hours for him. He felt the need for a run. It was a beautiful day. But no, he had to get this tutoring. She sounded nice, his prospective tutor. About what he'd expect from an American voice. He's still not seen her. He sat at a table, reading a textbook. He never knew why paper books were so expensive when a program file could replace them cheaply. Still, the few hundred dollar investment would be repaid. Hopefully. Math was so much easier to understand than words. It was his major after all. English courses were for getting a better grasp on the language. Not really needed, but, well, really needed.

(Continued from School Daze) Danica's wheels hummed cheerfully over the sidewalk as she led the group along at a comfortable walking pace. "Oh yeah, we can visit it anytime during the day, it's just that it's tucked in behind the old chapel and it can be hard to find. I didn't have my wheels then either, so walking around really took a long time!" She led them down the main walking boulevard of the campus, pointing out the administration building and one of the classroom buildings as they passed. "So where are you guys all from?"

Wednesday, September 5th 2018 A crisp breeze blew through the campus of Claremont Academy as though the weather was acknowledging that for the teenagers preparing for the first day of the new school year summer was now officially over. For all that the students leaving the dormitories one by one or in small groups and heading toward the auditorium included some truly remarkable individuals there were still seemingly universal experiences that they could not escape. A girl with a toaster pastry between her teeth attempting to tie the laces of her sneakers while catching up to her levitating friend while a boy with light blue antennae struggled under the encumbrance of a knapsack stuffed to its absolute capacity. The students had already received their course schedules but rather than heading straight to class they'd been called to a school-wide assembly. There'd been a few rumours circulating among the upperclassmen about the events of the previous year and changes the faculty had put in place but nothing concrete; Headmistress Summers was living up to her reputation as inscrutable. Newer students had more pressing concerns anyway: who were they going to sit beside?!

September 4th, 2018 Adam's parents had agreed to back off once he was ready to move into his room. He adored them, he really did, but he was eager to get out on his own. At least somewhat near something similar to 'on his own'. Not like he needed help bringing in his bags. He felt stares on him as he walked up to the building with everything he packed on his back and in his arms. He was wearing a light hoodie, jeans, and a sturdy pair of boots. He much preferred boots, they wore out slower than shoes, especially given his size. He had on his wig, fake eyebrows and contacts. He had already decided that if he was going to be a superhero, the best mask was no mask at all. He was a bit warm, but too self-conscious of his scars to wear anything short sleeved. At least yet. His parents had tried to assure him that they were sure there were other odd kids at Claremont. it was a good place to start really getting out there. He wouldn't be so much of a freak. He stepped into the room and put his things down as gingerly as he could. Then, he set to work.

August 29, 2018 Claremont Academy (Rita Kord Dorm, Room 411) To say getting into Clarement Academy on move-in day could be hectic was possibly the grandmother of all understatements. The Rita Kord dorm had become a storm of activity. Students both new and returning were coming in and out of its walls in all manner of directions and methods. Speedsters were racing to get to their rooms, teleporters were popping in and out with their supplies, phasers nonchalantly passing through walls and people, flyers attempting to avoid the congestion on the floor only find out they weren't the only one's with that idea. In a word, it was chaos. And Astrid loved it. Easily holding a massive overstuffed duffel bag in one hand and her favorite guitar in the other, Astrid made her way through all the madness with a grin on her face. Asgard had been chaotic too, but there was a sameness to all that wonder. As strange as seeing giants, valkyries, dwarves and gods together was they all kind of clicked to together to make a whole that had its own internal logic and theme. Claremont, on the other hand, was just plain mad in Astrid's eyes. Everything and everyone seemed to keep from different worlds, each with its own unique theme. The school was diverse in the truest sense of the word, with super-geniuses, mutants, aliens, Atlanteans, and yes, Asgardians walking around every which way. Despite it all Astrid felt a there was sense of koselig here, a feeling of cozy belonging that permeated across the whole dorm as she made her way through it. It might have just been wishful thinking, but Astrid's gut told her it was genuine. When she finally made it to her new home in Room 411 she broke the dorm room in by causally flicking her duffel bag to one of the room's beds and gently putting her guitar there as well. Astrid was told that she would have a roomie to share the dorm with. Was it a Nicole Whitfield-Hall or a Nicole Whitefield-Hall? As Astrid began to unzip her duffel bag and unpack she wondered what kind of person this Nicole was. Looking at her guitar for a moment, Astrid certainly hoped she was someone who liked heavy metal.

Robin ignored the trickle of sweat down her spine as she balanced, holding a sign aloft in her hands as she tried to make sure it was straight enough to install it. In the wake of the invasion, without school; she had to find SOMETHING to focus on. That something was the very ratty, very cheap office with apartment above that she'd reluctantly taken some of Fred's hard earned money to put together. She agreed, though, they couldn't make it work without someplace to take in clients... and Robin DID need somewhere to leave. Between the bionic arm that glinted dully metallic in the light and the strong cording of her muscles, there was no questioning the super human strength that let her hoist it aloft to set it into place. 'Knight Errant Private Investigations' It was a play on her last name, clearly, but Robin HAD gotten the certifications needed to legally open up the PI firm. It wasn't the most.... typical way to do superheroing but Robin couldn't join either the police or the military. This way, at least, they could try and help people, that's what Robin was trying to focus on. At least if she focused on that, she didn't have to look too closely at the wreck of her personal life. "How's that?" She wanted to know from her partner as she fished for the wrench dangling from her thin, worn jean loop. "Is it straight?"

September 4, 2018 Claremont Academy (Fourth Floor, Rita Kord Dorm) Jaycee had suggested they meet people before the assembly. "The first time you meet somebody, you set the tone for the whole rest of your relationship. If I meet them now, when Ah want to and on mah terms, that'll make it easier to stay in control. And Ah gotta stay in control, right?" It was actually one of the most perspicacious things Ashley had ever heard her charge say - and certainly the longest string of words she'd put together since a recently-drained Jaycee had parted company with the bulk of her Secret Service detail at an undisclosed location and headed onto Claremont's campus that weekend. They'd come in early, before any of the other students arrived, and Jaycee had spent most of her time in her room studying and texting to her sisters. And so it was that the "sisters" headed out into the fourth floor hallway, Ashley taking the lead as she would for the next two years. Jesus Christ, she took a moment to think before she took in the scenery. 410 was down at the end of one hall on the fourth floor, with 409 and 411 on either side a little further towards the main staircase. There were backstairs too, of course, and escape hatches that the sophomore students probably weren't going to find out about yet. Ashley was dressed for her part in a leather jacket, denim shirt, and scuffed jeans. She'd told her handlers that the pink dye in her hair cut down on the "look" she was trying to present, but they'd told her it would soften her image. By which they mean not make me look like a lesbian. She contemplatively chewed a toothpick as she scanned the hall, then took a look back at Jaycee as she closed the door behind her. "Judy" Smith didn't look much at all like her First Daughter self - with her long hair loose and hanging down her back, in baggy brown shirt and slacks that had made her make a single small noise at the sight of them, she looked like one of the refugees they were pretending to be. She was smiling the smile of someone who'd had media training, though, as she ran her fingers against the gold cross she wore around her neck. That was new too; a gift from the First Lady that nobody had seen in public yet. "Well?" It was true - Ashley had to lead the way on this one. She headed down the corridor, looking for open doors - or the sounds of activity inside them.

September 4, 2018 Claremont Academy (Third Floor, Rita Kord Dorm) Janus followed along, glancing at the numbers of the rooms as they passed each one in turn. The Danger scion had dressed 'down' recognizing that there would be a lot of hauling and unpacking from dark windowed car to the dormitory which meant that they only somewhat looked like some lost extra from an over-embellished k-pop video. Hair that faded from white to rose at the tips was pulled back in a tight braid that brushed the tightly laced leather pants. (Who wore leather pants in the late summer? A Danger, that's who.) The flouncy poets shirt had been cuffed back above leanly muscled forearms. Bright violet eyes cut to the sign. "Three-twelve. This is us, 'Ronnie." Like the androgynous features, Janus' smooth tenor didn't betray if the tall, slim individual was male or female, though their handsome features lent itself to an easily assumed pretty male. Shortening Veroncia's name with familial familiarity, Janus paused before apologizing as they well knew high school had an impact. If nothing else, Janus had seen all the high school movies while taking up space in Danger Manor over the summer. "Sorry, Veronica." Janus amended as they bumped the door open with one lean hip, "Habit."

Wading Station, North End, Freedom City 7:30 pm 4th September 2018 It had taken a year to arrange everyone schedules, mostly it's was true Lucy's schedule, but finally, they were free to take there road trip across the country. The place that she'd chosen to meet up with Nicole was Wadling station and old Art Deco station that she remembered from her breathing life, the contrast between that and the modern building just reminded her how her life was now. With her standard sunglasses, she lent on the body of the car that they'd be using for this road trip, a '63 soft top Corvette in black, obvious her assistances idea of a joke. It was probably lucky that she couldn't find a Model T-Ford car or this trip would have taken so much longer.