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GM May 4th, 2018, 11.55AM MarsTech Park, Emerald City, Oregon, USA, Earth-Prime The loudspeaker fought over the screams and howls of the crowd. Kaloke Keel, the commentator, leaned hard into every syllable as the stadium boomed with vicarious triumph. "And that's another home-run by local legend the Chef! This leaves us at the seventh with Ospreys still in the lead! Better luck next time, Mariners!" The players below were already beginning to sort themselves for the late-game stretch, and the fans were starting to quiet down, some of them tapping out orders for the auto-trays to deliver. The auto-trays were one of MarsTech Park's most popular innovations, largely eliminating the need for human vendors and the unsafe food storage of other stadiums. Hot food could be ready in minutes and sent directly to your seat in the stands via a conveyor system built just behind the surface. That the food was free, compliments of Maximilian Mars, Emerald City's favorite son, was something nobody could find fault with. Kaloke leaned back in his own chair, fading brown eyes sweeping over the field, still startled a little when a second's concentration on one point made the window-like display zoom in. Taking a sip of his now stone-cold coffee and glancing at the schedule, he depressed the microphone button and called out cheerfully "Now, we're doing good time and we all deserve a bit of a break, so let's get to something you've all been waiting for: First up, he's harder than steel but light as a feather, the flickering firepower of Black Diamond has no rival! By day he's an engineering student at Tokyo University, by night he's the baseball legend: Black Diamond!" The Park's main doors slid open, admitting a trim young Japanese man with short, smooth hair and skin like black glass lit by some inner dancing flame. He gave a deep, swooping bow to the audience....and suddenly was on home plate, twirling a bat made of the same glassy substance as his skin, grinning cheekily. The audience roared. "Now folks, I'm sorry to say Black Butterfly couldn't be here, but as we all know after some bigoted remarks by members of the Japanese National Diet she went to the kaido and beat the Prime Minister with a spiked baseball bat." Kaloke took another sip of coffee "She remains at large, and the Minister's in stable condition, so believe in miracles, folks!" "Of course it bears mentioning that this segment is sponsored by some of our favorite local establishments: Oz, where dreams are born, Nguyen's, where old skills meet make new tastes, Joy's, where you can find anything or anybody and our old friends at Bethlehem Heights Psychiatric Hospital. My cousin's been there since 1998, this is the year he's returning to society so let's give a big hand for Andrew folks, a real big hand!" The visiting Seattle fans were totally unprepared for the storm of whoops, screams and the thunderous applause that burst out at Kaloke's final words. "And keep that up for our guest, the numan Curveball! She has four arms, a keen eye and a killer's instincts! Come on out to the pitcher's mound, Jazzy!"

GM April 1st, 12.02AM, 2018 Club Infinity, on the Waterfront, Freedom City, New Jersey, USA, Earth-Prime The music had hit its fever pitch, the pulsing beat was in its stride. Bodies had become moderately-active bodies propelled around a world full of smoke machine exhaust, lasers, strobe lights and sweat. Then- With roar and a crash the ceiling collapsed! Four figures landed among the shocked and frozen crowd and then split up, two racing for a corner of the club where a young woman was seated. The other two headed for a small crowd surrounding a lithe young man. Both were grabbed, with a light flaring before their eyes and their vision abruptly cutting out. Before anyone could raise a proper protest at such behavior both were gone, the quartet vanishing back out through the roof into the waiting nigh-silent and invisible aircraft waiting for them. With a whisper and a sigh, the craft was gone. Below it, hundreds of shocked eyes, blinking phones and belated yells began to overcome the still-throbbing music. The bartender had already pressed the silent alarm. She made double-sure she'd pressed the one about supercrime. --------------------------------- Elsewhere On the plane, the two captives had been tied together at the knees and elbows. It was shockingly uncomfortable. Since their sight was gone, all they could make out of their captors were their voices. A sulky, faintly-accented voice spoke first "You sure this will wear off, Wallflower?" "Of course! In a few hours or when I flash the reverse signal to their brain!" that one was lighter and bubblier, with a bit of electronic distorition. "Hey!" a growl sounded right next to the captives' ears "I'm watching you, don't even try anything and you won't get hurt." The last was punctuated with a sharp, painful kick to Cherish's shin. A fourth snapped imperiously "Jawbreaker! That is no way to treat a client. Toy, take over flight to HQ." "Affirmative" a robot's voice, oddly friendly-sounding. Cherish felt a warm hand on her shoulder "I hope you won't hold that against Jawbreaker, Miss? We're only keeping you for a short time and, I promise, you will be treated with the utmost respect. Here..." Cherish felt an energy emanate from the hand, flowing through her veins, easing the pain from her throbbing shin. More worryingly, she could feel something slip between her and her powers... Meanwhile, Luther felt someone crouch next to him. "Hey, Luther! You can call me Wallflower, I'm a huge fan!" "Your grasp of the dark universes conjured from his music is like a child's." the sulky voice said "Aw, don't be like that, Pixie! Anyway, Mr. Sorrow, I just want you to know I won't let anyone hurt you and we're going to be best friends!" "It's a good thing he can't see you. You sound ridiculous talking like that at your age."

GM 95923.87 billions of miles from anything 2 hours after Moon Moth woke up A gamma dragon can grow to the length of an astronomical unit. While made of molten minerals, they are encased in a thick crust of high-density rock and metal that is effectively impervious to most weapons fire. Unfortunately, the one currently outside the Lor science ship To Live Is To Labor was twice the size of a normal dragon. It stretched on and on, seemingly forever from the perspective of the tiny Lanturnian, the bright glare of the ship's lights creating fantastical shadows in the dust around its rocky corpse. It being dead was the good news. He couldn't see them, but Moon-Moth knew a small fleet of refugee-Asshui was stationed at a polite remove from the Lor and their technical officers. They'd come to find the reason the dragon was dead. The reason was a male of the Asshui who had come to this system five dreamful sleeps before Moon-Moth had received the distress call on CoVic Station. The Wanderers of Asshui hadn't come into known space without their own heroes. Moon-Moth had even met some of them, mostly great scholars or poets, people who recorded and studied the lore of the Wanderers and kept the past alive. Draz-Fel had been different. The mysterious enemy the refugees of the Diaspora were fleeing hadn't frightened him, nothing had. While without any powers he'd had a cunning mind and iron will, with the wisdom to know his own weaknesses. The clans who followed Draz had never faced a foe they couldn't at least outwit, and to the hero the gamma dragon wandering into the territory the Asshui claimed had seemed like a spectacular, grand challenge to be faced and not a titanic predator that bathed in stars and needed to be avoided at all costs. But now the monster was dead. It wasn't cold yet, the volcanism of its interior would take a thousand years to die down. But it would never again lash its tail and crack a planet into chunks, never breathe fire vast as a solar flare and hot enough to evaporate a fleet. And thanks to that volcanism finding Draz-Fel with the ship's sensors was nearly impossible. The ground crew of the To Live and some of Draz's closest friends and Asshui medical experts were headed down to find the dragonslayer on foot. "What are you thinking about?" The second in command of the ship, a a tripod with a hard black chitin and small red eyes named Commander Skral, had paused beside him. Their grounding suit was already on, various tools affixed at magnetic points on the uniform. Some were tied on, too. Just in case.

GM April 1st, 2018, 1.23AM Emerald City, Oregon, USA, Earth-Prime The meteorite had snuck past every layer of warning the Earth had to offer, a flaming rock that by rights should have been seen coming a light-year away by the Lighthouse. It careened through the sky, directly for the peaceful, foggy Columbia River mouth and the two tiny cities crouched on the shores of the great gray sea. One of the Archetech staff had stepped outside for a smoke break, and a passing homeless man had pointed out the "new star" to him. Three minutes later and there Citizen was, high up in the sky with a giant ball of iron and alien metals racing for his head. It was around 150 meters across its smooth body, if it hit the cities at the speed it was going there wouldn't be any survivors for miles around. The voice of Archetech West's ground crew hummed into his receptors. "We're ready when you are, Sharl! Say the word and we'll fire up the conduits for that power boost! Hit that thing with everything we got!" "Just make sure to burn some of it off before you come back," another voice quickly added "just to be safe."

GM April 25th, 10:00 a.m. West End, Sid's Cafe After a few more messages sent back and forth, a meeting time and place had been set for Sid's Cafe. It had everything the heroes could want, ranging from coffee and baked goods to cider and salads, but most importantly, it had a small, second floor dining room that they could reserve. With four walls, a closed door, and creaking stairs leading up, it provided ample privacy to discuss their business while also satisfying the desire of some for a public meeting place. Arriving at Sid's gives a warm welcome in the form of tempting aromas. Judging from the crowd of people in the bottom floor happily chatting as they sip their coffee, brunch seems to be a busy time for Sid. Thankfully for those who order food, the staff behind the counter keep the line moving quickly and efficiently. The decor is precisely what one would expect from a highly modern cafe. None of the tables are of the same design, nor are the chairs. The only common thread between them is that they are wooden. The restaurant has a purple wallpaper decorated with fleur-de-lis, although hardly any remain visible under the mass of pictures and various idiosyncratic junk mounted on the walls. Regardless of one's tastes towards the design choices, the second floor proves adequate for the heroes' devices, sequestered away from the customers downstairs. The table in the middle of the roof is large enough to accommodate eight, although on one side it has a long, purple sofa instead of chairs. Along the walls of the room are three more tables, all designed to seat two people. Along one wall and leading out onto a veranda are a pair of french doors letting in the majority of the room's light. Judging from the hum of muffled conversation from below, it is apparent that the walls are thick enough to keep a quiet conversation within the room.

Mühlenplatz, Lucerne, Switzerland Saturday, April 21st , 2018 2:23 PM It was a beautiful day on Lucerne’s Mühlenplatz. People from both near and far enjoyed the sudden sunlight after a long winter by sitting in the restaurants outside and browsing through the various stores. There were travel groups, locals, and Swiss from other parts of the country. And there was Auguste Zoss. He’d not been in Lucerne for a while, there honestly weren’t that many reasons to visit the city. But today he was, thanks to an invitation by an old friend earlier in the day. He didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day, so it felt only fair to spend some time in the sun, amongst all the others. People were walking down the streets en masse, and Auguste was enjoying his coffee, occasionally peeking over at a man on a nearby table who was holding the most recent newspaper. But then, the occasional superhero noticed something. A glint, up on one of the roofs. A closer look revealed something quite disturbing. A man, set up with what quite clearly was a sniper rifle.

GM 19th April, 2018 The rain started coming down in the early afternoon and it had not stopped. It was a hot, heavy rain in a hot, heavy city. Frank Slate, Bedlam City Detective, was investigating a murder. He was an old dog, tough and weathered, his experience making him both competent and cynical. Another dead body in Bedlam City, and he hardly raised an eyebrow. Just another job. The woman had been crushed, it seemed. But by what? She wasn't talking, and could any forensic scientist make sense of the pulp that was her bones? It was doubtful she had a bone left in her cold dead corpse that had not been broken. Her body had been found in Gravewood Iron Foundy, just outside of Bedlam. It had an awful track record for safety, but nobody had ever turned up like this mess. Possibly it was an industrial accident, but nobody was talking, and Frank couldn't see any loose machinery. "Hell, what do I know anyway?" he grumbled to himself. Word spread fast in Bedlam. And maybe somebody who did know would help...

GM Wednesday 18th April, Midday, Outside WestRock Software The year was warming up with a clear sky and a hot sun. One could imagine swimming in sunlight, the way the midday brightness infused the air. And outside Lick Her and Shots, a disreputable bar just across the street from Hakim, there was screaming. And a gunshot of strange resonance (And yet, somehow, once knew it was a gunshot). A half dozen people started stumbling and screaming and running out of the bar, almost crushing each other in wild panic to get out. Of course, gunshots did that, but those in the know would be aware that Lick Her and Shots was a bar frequented by the army, or more precisely, Vets. Who, once could argue (PTSD aside) would be relatively resilient to the fear induced by gunfire...

GM Atlantic Ocean April 9th, 3:00 pm Over the weekend three ships had been attacked. The sailors had reported giant snake like creatures that had emerged up out of the dark and struck. The sailors had expected to be eaten or for the ships to be sunk. Instead the serpents had plucked cargo containers off the ships and tossed them into the deep. Koa had seen the news reports and decided he’d look into it. He’d seen sea serpents before and, maybe Atlantic ones acted differently, but that wasn’t how they behaved. After class he jogged on down to the waterfront and dove in. If I keep near the ships coming in and out maybe I can catch these weird sea serpents in the act.

Moira was a guest employee at Silberman's since the beginning of the year. She'd pop in every Wednesday ring the register, but lately she and Lynn had an idea. What if instead of register work, she pulled in customers? She and Lynn talked about it and they both agreed that she would dress up in a costume. For the past two weeks it was successful. More people in the store, more word of mouth, more sales. Good for all. Not that she didn't get a say in the matter, but Moira generally joyed the work. She would have done it for free, but that's not how businesses work. This week she and Gretchen - the two had mended bridges over the winter months, taking to warmer climes to get to know each other better - had been talking back and forth. They would take lunch break together and wouldn't come back for the rest of the shift. A few hours later, Moira woke up in Gretchen's room, rested. She hadn't slept this peacefully in a while. No mind talk from the parents. And then she noticed her bracer was gone. That thing never left her arm! She didn't want to wake Gretchen, but Gretchen wasn't there either. hopping up from the comforting bed, she raced to put on a night dress and scoured the apartment. For her bracer. For her lover. For any signs of what happened. And nothing had happened! The only thing rustled was the things that got in the way when they came in.

GM Saturday April 7th, 2018 6:00 pm Waco, Texas The Cameron Park Zoo was a point of pride for the city of Waco. Plenty of people used it as a source of outdoor recreation. Since early this morning dozens of people and cars had entered the park and none had come out. This alone would have been concerning. The fact that multiple bordering neighborhoods had been swallowed up as well made it all the worse. No less than a hundred people had gone missing, people had stopped going in, but no one was coming out. What had come out was a bear. From a distance, one might assume that it was one of the American Black Bears from the Cameron Park Zoo, perhaps even rightly. Except now it was about three times the size and when it had been approached by police it had breathed flames at them. To put it lightly? Not your average day in the park. Hyperactive had gotten the call about an expanded park early in the morning. He had at that point decided he wasn’t going to pick a fight with trees. When he’d heard the reports of missing persons he’d decided it might be his issue to fix. When he heard about a bear wandering down University Parks, it definitely became his issue to solve. So he decided it was time to run home.

GM April 1st, 2018, 12.01 AM In the ruins of Tharask, Lemurian City of Hope, the Night Sea of Sub-Terra Tharask had been empty for centuries long before the Great Cataclysm destroyed Lemuria and her human twin. But in its highest tower, in the heart of the Drowned Citadel, the voices of serpents resounded. The robes glimmered in the emerald light of the torches, a light reflected dully in the golden eyes of the procession being described around the bloodied circle. Thin, hissing voices rose and fell in song as scaled arms tipped by claws brandished wreathes of bone and weapons of obsidian glass. As the serpent people sang, the light of the torches changed, first to a healthy, ruddy orange, then deeper and deeper into a sickly, nauseating red. The golden eyes were eclipsed as slitted pupils expanded to draw in more light, the sibilant voices grew louder and faster, a savage tempo building as the eldritch forces at work began to work their will on the world. Suddenly, with a blinding flash and a peal like thunder, the thin fabric of the world was torn away, flinging a being from another world into the circle! <"It works, it works!"> they cried jubilantly, dancing with glee as their leader, resplendent in a crown and robes adorned with sea dragon fangs, swept into view of the new arrival. He pointed a staff topped with a gilded skull at them. <"Demon of the void,"> he began, before pausing, eyes squinting dubiously. Something was...strange about this demon. They were more human-looking than most, for starters. <"What infernal realm do you hail from, creature? As thine summoner, I do command thee to answer, and answer only with the truth as it pertains to the spirit of my question!"> -------------------------------------------------------------------- Aquaria had made a stunning discovery during the transfer of Deep One relics to the Freedom City museum. A stone tablet imbued with protective power held an intricate map carved long before the stone was enchanted. It showed the way to an ancient city built as a refuge by the Serpents in the early days of their forgotten empire. Tharask had been a glimmering pearlescent jewel in the crown of the Serpent Empire, a place where song and art were the greatest skills that could be cultivated, shimmering spires reached to the cavern roof and its artificial Sun shone day and night, spreading heat and life eternal. Then the War had swept into Sub-Terra and by Atlantean magic the false Sun seared the city until was bleached bone white, all life burned from its streets and towers. The walls of the cavern had broken, letting in the surrounding underworld sea to cover everything in icy darkness. But the wonders remained and the legends grew. More importantly Tharask was directly(relatively, Sub-Terra made such things hard to pin down) beneath the waters of the Great Bay. So here she was, floating in a giant flooded cave surrounded by the spear-head tips of pallid, crumbling buildings that smelled like death. With the unmistakable lights and sounds of a Serpent ritual drawing her closer to reptilian shadows and hissing voices.

GM “Be careful with that, ya mook.” The hissed voice echoed in the gloom of the cavernous space, and was coupled with the sound of a slap as one of the intruders into the quiet space smacked his fellow upside the head. They called it Devil’s Cove… or at least, some people had done, a very long time ago. Most people now didn’t call it anything, because most people didn’t come to this water-logged cavern a few dozen miles from Freedom City’s harbour. Why would they? There was nothing out this far. The wi-fi reception was terrible. But there were some things it had going for it. This late at night, when the stars are in the sky and the moon is shining down on the waves, there is a kind of quiet beauty to it. Serene, even. The natural cavern is far enough away from the city that there’s no intrusion of sound or pollution this far out. Few prying eyes came out this far. Which also made it a fantastic place for smugglers. The submarine that they had used to get this far was now surfaced at the mouth of the cave, the dull, dark metal glinting under the pale moonlight. The top hatch has opened, and a dozen people are in the process of quickly and efficiently unloading the cargo. Crates upon crates of contraband have filled the belly of the submarine, and in amongst all of them was the secret that had – unknowingly – ensured that the entire venture would come crashing down. Somewhere in there, there’s some Daka Crystals. The extremely valuable items were due for sale to some very unsavoury characters, and word had hit the street that they would be coming in tonight.

GM Saturday, March 24th Later Afternoon... The sun hung low in the sky, and the shadows were long, but it was a surprisingly warm day, and people were in fair spirits. Jackson street was a smaller road in the Theatre district, full of more avante garde art and artists. As was the case when art was less than a blinding success, money was thin in wallets and pockets. And this close to the Fens, the paucity of wealth started to blend with the abundance of crime that goes with it. Perhaps the highlight of Jackson Street was The Square Moon, a Sort of Jazz club. It was "sort of" because it played all sorts of esoteric and crazy music of limited popularity that proclaimed itself to be both artistic and cool. And usually had some maddening time signature. In addition, the Square Moon attracted all sorts of new age and wiccan types and had a barely believed reputation for being seeped in sorcery. Outside the Square Moon, a tall man of Asian heritage in a cool turtleneck was pacing up and down and smoking heavily, quite worried. He was stopping passers by and those coming in and out of the Square Moon showing them pictures of two kids, but with limited success. Maybe the young man known as Facsimile might help as he passed by? And meanwhile... Victoria Gold has received a hand written, hand delevired note of brief nature. Trouble at the Square Moon with Katarnachists. I need your help. Meet me outside at 5pm. Wear a circle. Followed by the sigil of the Guardians of the Wheel. Which, as far as Victorian Gold knew, only the Guardians of the Wheel knew.....

Early Summer 2018 Jordan International Airport The busload of tourists who had recently been getting ready for their tour of Freedom City were certainly getting an eyeful, thought Watchdog. As the driver recovered from the punch she'd landed on the side of his head, she had to wonder if the touring company was going to give them their money back. "You think you can smuggle poison dope in my city? Those kids _died!_" The truth was that Rodrigo here was a pretty low-level dealer, but a sound beating from a vigilante was just the thing to get him to lay off and move out of town. Or so the Raven had suggested, anyway, and so Ashley had passed on to her superiors. He hadn't actually killed anyone with the watered-down crap he was selling to the nightshift package handlers, but if he thought he had, he'd probably run off and do something stupid that would lead the Raven or the cops to his boss. "I didn't kill anybody I swear to God!" Rodrigo wept, putting his hands up as he braced himself against the side of the bus. "SWEAR TO ME!" responded Watchdog as she kicked him again, knocking him to the ground and drawing her pistols. She really did hate dealers, and that made it easy to put real menace in her voice as she advanced on him."SWEAR YOU DIDN'T POISON THAT LITTLE GIRL! GO AHEAD!"

April 2018 The Castle Aquaria climbed her way up the side of the skyscraper, sticky pads clinging to opaque panels rather than translucent windows. She didn't normally indulge herself in this way, but it was much too dark for Surfacers to see clearly outside - and the driving rainstorm outside disguised her from any prying eyes below. The warm wet wind, thick with ocean-scented rain, felt wonderful on her skin. Freedom City was never quite as comfortable as her home waters - but at times she could dream, and imagine a better place. Once she reached the floor where she and Jessie lived, she wriggled her way to one of the secret access panels installed for the benefit of flying superheroes or outdoor maintenance and made her way through a supply closet to the secluded floor where she and Jessie lived. Padding her way nearly silently down the corridor, as usual careful not to alert their neighbors, she took only a few seconds to nimbly lope down to the rooms that she and Singularity shared. She had a fish under her arm, thick and juicy, and there would be frying tonight!

March 31. The Internet. 11:45 EST It wasn’t always easy, but the superheroic costumed detective (among a few other things) Terrifica had sent out her carefully worded invitations. Terrifica herself was at home in Boston. Her husband was still awake, but her two children slept the sleep of the very young and carefree. She had taken great care to retrofit this particular chat room software (“borrowed” from a certain popular program) to be invisible to all but the most dedicated searchers. No program or system was entirely unhackable, but there was something to be said for going under the radar to avoid being hacked in the first place. The ultimate purpose of the chat room was the same as the invitations. Terrifica’s very nature precluded not looking into mysterious or suspicious circumstances, and what she found was often criminal in nature. Therefore, it needed stopping. And while various law enforcement bodies were quite capable in their own right, there were situations they were not fit to handle. Situations that required a…superheroic touch. Terrifica interceded in this situations when she could, and requested assistance from her protégé and friend Miracle Girl when she could not. However, this still left certain situations unresolved. This would not do. She had wrangled with it for the better part of a year, but there was no realistic choice. She would have to outsource further. To that end, the invitations (one time use links, as she would provide permanent ones to the regulars) and the chat room. She had informed Miracle Girl in person a few days ago, and requested her presence as well. LittleMissTerrific loitered alone inside of it for now, a welcoming message (Welcome to Crimebusting Monthly!) and a short list of rules (1. Be civil to each other. 2. Respect each other’s privacy. 3. Try to use common sense.) pinned to the top of the general channel. There were four channels. #general, #herostuff, #suggestions, and #askagenius. Contrary to what those who didn’t know Terrifica well might think, #askagenius was not where Terrifica would be replying to questions. She had a bot for that, linking to Wikipedia and various other pertinent websites for information. All that there was left to do…was wait.

March 25th, 2018 Club Immortus, London... Late Evening Mr. Murk awaited patiently. He was a patient man. He had all the time in the world, and quite possibly longer. And yet, whilst things were not urgent, he felt the need to act. Something had gone missing, and that something was important. Not merely because that something happened to be an apparently immortal woman encased in ice in a hill in Wales, but because he could forsee some of the web of possibilities that had been wrapped up in this act. It disturbed him. The rules of the Codex Immortus were far from perfect, he knew, and must always be examined - not just by him, but by wise minds of its members. But he was, for the most part, glad that they were there. They had been used positively from time to time. He was not sure this was one of those times...not sure at all. So he had sent for Voin and Comrade Frost for help. Dreanought too, was intimately mixed up in this, but he would need awakening...it would be about now, by his timekeeping. He remembered their favourite drinks and favourite foods, and had arranged for them to be prepared. He knew, after all, when they would be arriving. For himself, he drank some Gin and tonic. For now, at least. He had a Pinot Noire and Chicken salad waiting, but he confessed to himself he had no particular thirst or appetite today...

GM March 15th, 2018, 2.37AM The Battle Roil, the Red Waste, the Well of Rage Moira was very rudely yanked from a dream as she was flung through space. A strange, powerful hand had her by the wrist and Moira could feel something large, metallic and bulky behind her. The air whistled around her ears and a great black sky stretched from horizon to horizon, broken up by the distant silhouettes of towering spires of red rock. Vast mesas and dark canyons broke up the dreary expanses of red tableland that otherwise ran as far as her eyes could see. With a jolt the hand securing her whipped out savagely, sending Moira hurtling towards one of the mesas, the pillar of rock rushing to meet her! Moira for just a moment looked into eyes just like hers, in a face just like hers. As she sped towards the ground she saw that this doppelganger was wearing an ornate suit of brassy armor covered with decorative figure inlays featuring scenes of love and war. She heard her own voice shouting down after her. "Let's do this, you sloppy piece of copyright infringement! Let's see how comic-book Scion deals with the real thing!" From her back swung golden wings, and with a roar the other Moira came racing for her twin!

GM The Paradise, 6PM, March 24, 2018. Rose had done this for Maybelle before. It was not so successful. She swore if it didn't work this time that... there were plenty of fish in the sea. She just wanted to see her friend happy, and not so obsessed with work. It was fine to a degree, but workaholism was bad! Luckily, Rose knew just the person to wind Maybelle down. There was a concerted effort, with Rose at the head, to get Maybelle dating. So, right now, in the middle of winter, they would go to some place warm. The Paradise is a 'tropical resort' year round. Which was fine, she enjoyed the warmth better than the cold. Warmth lead to summer clothing. Of which she made sure Maybelle bought. No work clothes, she warned. Finally, there was the hook up. Rose said they'd met before under inopportune circumstances. And no, it wasn't Greg, again. They would wait in the - very warm - waiting room. There were dressing rooms to get ready for the resort theme.

GM Saturday, Feb 24th, San Diego... Gilbert Gibbens was a short man, in an apparently ill fitting suit that seemed to show his sweating body off very well. "I have a condition!" he would explain, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Sometimes he would sneeze as if to punctuate said condition. He had thinning hair, and looked as if he was in his mid forties. He could of course not track down Tsunami, but he had hedged his bets. And so here he was, trying to be patient, sitting in a park which was moderately busy, by a pool, under a tree, having a coffee that used to be hot, but was now getting cold, at midday. He had placed a series of cryptic messages and symbols in the local newspapers and magazines. It had cost a small fortune to do so, but he had enough money to meet the need. A student of Eastern philosophy would understand. The Sun, at midday, by still water, under wood. Life in the midst of steel and masonry. Stillness admidst motion. And so he hoped that Tsunami would get the message. He presumed that she would come in disguise, or incognito. But he really had no idea if she would come at all. But he was at least trying to reach out.

Freedom City University - Dormitories 1:03 a.m. The fire alarms should have gone off sooner. The sprinklers should have put out the fire. The fire department, at least, was reacting precisely as they were trained to, but as the dormitories went up in flames, the fire trucks were still a ways out. Most of the students seemed to already have gotten out, quickly filing their way onto the asphalt parking lot. Campus security guards were all ready moving people away from the burning building, as well as keeping gawking pedestrians back. Onlookers watched as flames licked out of the windows of the second floor. The doors on the first floor pumped out black smoke, but was otherwise untouched, for the time being at least. Some of the students cried, but most murmured and whispered, waves of "Did everyone make it out?" and "Where's so-and-so?" and "What started this?" wafting through the air. The flow of startled and sleep-deprived students had ceased, but the flames showed no sign of stopping in kind as fire began to climb to the third floor. The orange and red glow of the burning building shone like a beacon in the night, and everyone stood and watched in rapture as they waited for the fire department, the awaited sirens not far in the distance. Then a scream rang out, a young woman calling, "Micah! MICAH!" The student shoved through the crowd, looking for the absent Micah. Frantic, the girl ran up to one of the security guards and grabbed his sleeve. "My roommate, she's still in there! She's still on the second floor!"

Freedom City Central Downtown Wading Way 13:15 21st of march 2018 Wading way was a nice neighbourhood, anyone you asked would tell you so, lots of strong local businesses operated out of there so there was a lot of opportunity for work and a strong economy, resilient even in the face of the rampant meta-human events that seemed to be perpetually going on around the infamous city of heroes, which thanks to the wealth and affluence of its occupants seemed to weather the storms of energy blasts and super strength backed blows better than other neighbourhoods. They had been enjoying a nice run of good weather as of late, perfect infact for taking ones lunch out to the various civic parks or even just to the bench around the corner from your workplace, it had all been going so well, but then, it usually was before something kicked off. That in this case a bright red steam locomotive ripped through the air with a thrumming cascade of light and strange energies, was something novel but hardly unique in the face of day to day occurrences, many watched none nonplussed it it slid across the ground smoothly, held aloft on a cushion of light and air and pulled up outside the bank. A scant few moments the doors flung open and a crowed of extremely similar looking cowboys, far more than one would reasonable expect to fit into the cab of such a vehicle, raced from the street into the glassy front doors of the wading way 3rd national bank. It was going to be one of those days it seemed.

Spring 2018 A Saturday evening Anna appeared in Jette's office, sitting in the office chair directly in front of the latter's desk. She was smirking, her legs crossed demurely before her, and wearing an orange tracksuit like someone who'd gone jogging in a Bedlam winter. "Hey, Rocket Shorts! Remember me?" There was only one person who had ever called Jette Rocket Shorts, even though she'd heard almost nothing of that worthy since she'd gone to jail - three years _after_ Jette herself had gone behind bars. Anna Cline was a good twenty-five years her senior, closer to her late partner's age than her own, but the smile lines were thin enough and the blonde hair real enough that it was clear she didn't look her age; if anything, she looked Jette's age or a few years younger.

GM Simon Gordon's little movement actually started 25 years ago, so he claims. When the then unknown force of the Terminus invaded Earth. Millions died. All because of the Terminus. It was found later on that there were 'sleeper agents' born of the incident. Children of the Terminus. Some used their powers for good, others for evil. But Simon Gordon knew the truth. They were all lying in wait. They would call down the thunder again. It was only a matter of time. Simon found like minded folks. Some with fervent belief. And then his message began to spread. He was a leader. Over the past few months, Humans Against Terminus ERuptionS - a term that Gordon cooked up himself after people called their group 'haters' - grew in size and visibility. The HATERS went national Simon got the ear of media. Suddenly everyone knew a little bit about the Terminus. Enough to know that a scary dark invasion was bound to happen. How the public perceived it was split. Though most saw it as a tinfoil conspiracy theory, others knew such things could happen! March 17, 2018. Noon. Simon was going to educate the masses, personally. He advertised a meeting in Liberty Park. His like-minded would come, but he wanted his detractors to come. He wanted the fence sitters and unknowing to come. He would explain how the HATERS's goals and ideology. There was a small stage with a banner above it reading HATERS. No one was on there, but there was a large group of people swarmed around it. The presentation would be starting in thirty minutes.