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January 2018 Freedom City Great Bay Aquaria was alone tonight, resting on the shores of Great Bay as she looked up at the silent stars overhead. It was a holy night, a night of great alignments and portents - a night that in old days would have meant a hunt for a pod of dolphins or perhaps a great whale, and then a great feast to follow among all of the tribe. Given the time of year and her age, she'd have probably killed a beast herself, bathed in its guts beneath the light of the Moon, and fed scraps to the healthiest of her children. But instead she was alone tonight, several days swimming or more from the nearest Deep Ones, with the promise of her rubber and plastic bed at home when the morning came. She had a special mission tonight, a mission that required solitude. The alignments of this day would give power to all who sang the Names of the Gods Below or the creatures who dwelt in Sea of Stars - a power that on the Surface was usually taken by madmen and cultists, twisted creatures whose plans to summon avatars of Dagon and Hydra would only bring pain and suffering to gods and creatures alike. The blasphemers would take the names of the gods and use them in vain, and do nothing but bring contempt to every being like her. She was waiting in this sacred spot on the beach, a spot sanctified during the Archevil invasion before she'd even set foot on Freedom City's shores, for Surfacer cultists to arrive. If one did come, she had big plans, oh yes. Her armor was stored safely beneath her on the beach, cunningly buried beneath the sand - she squatted on her haunches before a fire she'd kindled, the light reflected in her great dark eyes, and began to sing in a bellowing, resonate bass, just loud enough that any creature on the beach would be sure to hear her.

GM Southside, Freedom City, New Jersey Sunday April 6, 2014 10:14 PM It had been several months since Foreshadow had first gotten on the trail of a mysterious new underworld figure. That incident had suggested that this mysterious figure might have abilities similar to Foreshadows. In the intervening time, Foreshadow experienced difficulty in trying to track down the figure, all the while the mystery man began making moves to disrupt the criminal underworld in Southside. It had been less than 48 hours since Foreshadow had gone to an underground night club to speak with an arms dealer, Grigory Salnikov. Given the assassination attempt on Salnikov, the arms dealer had been willing to provide Foreshadow with information on one of his customers, the mysterious man behind the recent unrest in parts of the Southside criminal world. Salnikov had revealed that the mystery man Foreshadow had been chasing went by the name Foresight. While Salnikov could not confirm whether he had abilities similar to Foreshadow's, he did indicate that Foresight appeared to have an uncanny ability to predict events. Salnikov had also provided the address of a location used by Foresight to which the arms dealer had delivered shipments in the last couple of months. Given that Foreshadow had already encountered one super powered operative working for Foresight, as well as another that was at least highly trained, the costumed crime fighter had decided it might be time to even the odds some. So, as he sat on the roof of another warehouse, watching the location provided by Salnikov, he was joined by Dee Farrington, who also was Synapse of the UK superteam Vanguard. They had been in place about an hour, and thus far there had been very little activity within the warehouse. A couple of blocks way on the street… Harry Hound and Freddy Furlong pulled the Caddy to a halt on a dark street, looking over at an old warehouse a few blocks away. The two private detectives generally focused on cases within the Fens or the surrounding neighborhoods, but when Lucy Harker had given them info about a power struggle taking place in Southside between some unknown new underworld figure and the existing gangs that was leaving a trail of bodies, the two had agreed (reluctantly in Harry's case) to investigate the matter. It had taken a bit of work, and some "convincing" by Freddy, but the two had eventually gotten a lead to the warehouse that sat in front of them. According to their sources, the group that was muscling in on existing groups' turf was using the building to channel the illegal arms shipments that were fueling their takeover.

Codex Immortus: Voin Zhenshchina Soho, London, 1961 Verily, 'twas a most pleasant summer evening, with long shadows from dusky red sun, and the air, in those days, was not quite so $£%" as it had been in years before or years hence. This was London, greatest city in the world. Home to the swinging sixties and everything most splendid that circled that decade of style and hedonism. Club Immortus, London, was the oldest of the Clubs, and arguably the most splendid. Paris had better food, Freedom City had better function. But the club in London had a lovely feel, of warm old wood, crackling fire, and musty smoke. The Library was full of wonderful old tomes, some extremely rare editions, and even some very dangerous eldritch texts that would threaten the brains of any reader. Mr. Murk had money and contacts everywhere. Operating from the shadows, he had tendrils in many pies. Much of it was due to hard work, grind, experience, and canny judgement, mixed with a true skill in making friends (or in some casing exerting leverage on useful enemies). His visions of the future had, of course, considerably helped. An invite had been sent to Voin Zhenshchina, for an evening drink. The Ministry of Powers had been most helpful in procuring this invite. Steak and wine, straight from Paris. Mr. Murk waited patiently in the dining hall, mulling over his Russian. A bit rusty, but still there.

GM January 5, 2018 The winter weather wasn't exactly forgiving. Record lows and snowfall were a strain on everyone's patience in sone form or another, and nowhere was it more obvious than among people who worked for Freedom City's social services. Homeless shelters struggled to find room for everyone, from adults to runaways... The situation was taxing enough on everyone that no one really noticed when vacancies opened up. A bed here, a room there... no one questioned it; rather, they were thankful that someone else could be housed, and the fairest assumption was that the previous occupant had moved on. Transient population", they siad. Some people knew better. All Nathan Ratliff wanted to know was 'why'. A local volunteer and social worker, Nathan was well known among his peers for being a big-hearted busybody. So in late December when several runaways he'd been working with vanished, Nathan refusded to believe they'd simply packed up and gone somewhere else. A week later... Nathan didn't show up for work.

01/07/2018, Late evening Lincoln - Between Yin and Yang Convenience Store The Noreaster which had swept over Freedom City had slowed the torrential pulse of the city into something softer and more manageable. The streets, quiet on a Sunday night, were especially so with the foot of snow which had brought things to standstill. However, the city, and its heroes were quite used to the Eastern Seaboard weather, and things were already getting back to normal. The Yin and Yang Convenience Store was a relatively new establishment in the Asian dominated area of Lincoln, but had quickly gathered a patronage due to the warmth of it's older owners. They seemed to be able to really put customer first policies in place and managed to get a rather wide variety of ethnic produce and foods to stock the shelves. However, on this Sunday night, the only person in the store was Zhu, who was sitting behind the register reading a book on Practical Applied Mechanical Systems for one of her classes. Her parents had sacrificed much to get her to America and the Claremont academy and she did her best to help them out when she could. Sunday night was usually a good night for her to give them some well deserved time off while she minded the store. While the store was not in the best of area's, it wasn't as deadly as the Fen's and the routine patrols by police and heroes did a lot to keep crime down in the immediate area. It didn't help that there was a liquor store adjacent to them, but at least they had a nice metal grate over their windows to deter the criminal element from the block. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she was making notes as she read, the computer next to her seeming to dictate things nearly on it's own. Outside a plow rumbled through the streets and she looked at the blinking yellow lights as the faded down the major thoroughfare. With any luck, she'd be able to close up early and get back to her dorm. She had a new dance track she wanted to play for Lexa and get her opinion on it.

GM Greatest Grabs Wading Way, Freedom City, New Jersey Tuesday, November 28th, 2017 10:30 AM It had been a day since Alexa and Zhu had moved in together. And already the pair were making a run to Greatest Grabs to replace broken machinery from a night of enthusiastic experimenting. Greatest Grabs a high-end electronic store on the Wading Way with the appearance of a commercial establishment to draw in more patrons. Whether those patrons could actually afford their wares was another matter entirely. But, it was the time of the year for sales. At such affordable prices, even two high school students would have no trouble in making a purchase or two. Not alone to this line of thought the pair found themselves having to wade through a crowded store. Ending up in the stereo section purely by a matter of pedestrian congestion. A shove here, a push there, and their aisle was chosen for them.

GM January 3rd, 2018, Soho, London, Club Immortus Dreadnought slept with his future brothers, deep and sound in an enchanted slumber, to wake in the new year of 2018 by Mr. Murk, who had most interesting news... Mr Murk brought coffee with him, as Dreadnought woke from his one hundred and sixty seven year slumber. He was surrounded by (now) at least ten sleeping Dreadnoughts, his future selves. The coffee was strong and black. "You may need this. Of course, caffeine might not work on you" said Mr. Murk, handing a bucket full of coffee to the immortal. "You awake in 2018. It seems the world has need of you, or more precisely, your team mate, Foreshadow" he explained, slowly and carefully, waiting for the enchanted slumber to seep away. "However, my vision is more cloudy on this. More cloudy than it should be, even within the strange fog that is the future. I sense...interference...manipulation..." he explained. "I think you might be needed...." Because, just then... Foreshadow, as a member of Vanguard, was being introduced to a Mr. Anton Vasilyev, ex-KGB intelligence officer. This meeting was beyond top secret. It was a private, secure room. Possibly bugged by the Ministry of Powers - but Foreshadow foresaw no such future. As far as he knew, via his foresight or skill, the room was secure. Of course, the ministry of intelligence would be pressing him to extract as much information as possible. "This room...its secure...yes?" asked Anton in fluent English. He must have been a good spy. Maybe he still was. A strong man of average height, non descript face bar a broken nose, and wearing unremarkable clothes. "What I need to tell you...its personal...about your family..." he explained. "Not really for others to know...."

November 27th, Mid Morning Claremont Dormitory After meeting with the Dean, Alexa felt more at ease. She had a schedule as well as a room assignment, which while she loved new experiences, order was much preferable to chaos. Of course, she was wheeling a mostly broken suitcase with the remnants of her things, courtesy of a less than mindful speedster. The vaporized silicon components likely were ground into most of her things, but even that was just another problem to deal with. She was here; Claremont. It was now official and she could relax just a little bit before whomever the school had assigned to her as a roommate. She opened the door to her room and looked at the small, but orderly room. Two single beds twined with matching desks and small shelving units dominated most of the space. The carpet was soft and clean and the walls a pleasantly neutral color. What was nice was the wood trim and furniture which was something that was rare in China, although it certainly was more common here from what she could tell. Still, it added a touch of warmth to the space which was nice and made it feel more lived in even though nothing was there. She thought briefly on waiting to see if anyone showed up before unpacking and essentially choosing a side. However, her patience wore thin after a few seconds and she forced open the battered suitcase and began to unpack on the left side of the room. It was a shame that washing was going to have to be done already, but that was more than outweighed by the excitement of meeting all of the very special people that seemed to go to school here.

GM 1st January, 2018, 4.45PM Emerald City, Oregon, United States of America, Earth-Prime By the time everyone was where they had to be, night was already fallen. For those used to rising with the eastern Sun and seeing it vanish behind the distant western mountains, it was a faint shock to see that old stalwart's final moments, dragged slowly into the cold, grey mists of the Pacific. In its place a vibrant silver supermoon glared down, stark light reflected from the agless stone mirror. The world was light and shadow, the forbidding mass of the Elysian Forest brooding just beyond the flashing police lights and the searchlights of the near-noiseless choppers and drones hovering overhead. By comparison, the horror show that had burst into being that morning was a comforting reminder of normalcy. Never a very large building, or more than meekly grand, Bethlehem Heights Mental Hospital & Historical Society crouched atop its high and lonely hill like a forgotten child of the gleaming silver-green metropolis just a mile away. What remained of its classic Young Victorian design was covered in spiked and grisly chains that gleamed in the ruddy light spilling from the occluded windows. Only its front door was open, and then just a crack, revealing nothing. If you listened, very hard, the sea breeze coming in off the bay sounded remarkably like you were shrieking in purest agony. At 7.28AM, Pacific time, Mayor Amanda Talbot had made a general call for assistance on national television, radio and internet channels. The directness and candor of it had been a surprise, referring to a "deadly paranormal entity" that "has already claimed the lives of twelve dear friends in the Emerald City Police Department." Usually, you couldn't even get a straight answer about where all the homeless people kept vanishing to. Captain David Wrath, sweaty and wide-eyed, greeted them at the edge of the police cordon, stepping through the simple holographic "tape" to give them a fervent handshake. He was a big man, built like a bison with a mustache like a square bracket, but at that time under that cold cosmic stare, he looked as small as could be. "Wrath, ECPD, do you know what this is?" He pointed one brawny arm covered in carbon fiber armor at the dismal thing silhouetting dozens of officers in the blue and green of Columbia's Keenest. The low brick wall that wouldn't keep out a determined cat was more than enough of a barrier for the people milling behind it. "That place took twenty of us before we pulled back at 5 this morning. They walked in, and...just vanished. Not even a scream over the radio. Gone." Wiping his steaming forehead to spread the sweat more evenly, the police captain said "Tried to scan through the walls, blew out the truck. Tried to use echodrones to get a sonic picture, shot the waves back so hard they shattered the things. Please, if you can figure out anything..." he shook his head "I can't go tell Mitsy Shin's not coming back and I don't know why. Even if it's demons or something, I gotta know."

January 3rd, 2018 Dorm Room, Claremont Alexa sat in her room scanning through her YouTube channel at some of the comments. Her fingers did not grace the keyboard even as the screen scrolled and flicked from topic to topic. When she had been in Shanghai, her presence on her channel had been constant as her schoolwork had barely occupied a fraction of her time. Yet, with the move and transition to Claremont and her work to assimilate into American society she had barely put out anything in the past couple of months. While the comments on her work were positive, there was an undercurrent of restlessness from the posters wondering if she had dropped the channel or not. "Zhu, you need to post more!" "Where have you gone? We miss your stuff!" Of course there were some of the more rude and crude posts, but she had learned long ago to filter them out. The inevitable crude propositions and inarticulate rage that the internet seemed rife with were taken care of with a reasonably good set of filters. Still, she missed producing videos and now that she was feeling a little more settled in, the urge to create had crept back up on her. The question always was what to make this time? She was known for her special effects and short films with elaborate sets. Ideas were always the hardest part, but once she had one, then she could start laying the groundwork for it. Jumping off her own channel, she started to scan the news, looking both at current and past events. Thankfully, Freedom City had more than enough colorful material for her to look through and she was soon awash in photos of epic struggles and colorful heroes. As she was scanning she paused on a story about an Olympian hero, Scion. Reading through it she grinned as an idea for a short came to mind. She could practically picture the set with sweeping Greek architecture and who wouldn't want to do immortal special effects. Right! Idea found, now to find a leading lady. She didn't think that anyone would really want to see a comically underage Chinese girl play the part, so starring in it herself was out of the question. She didn't have the money to hire a professional, but probably could get some funds for an amateur. Especially someone who might be looking for some supplementary income. Grinning, she started a scan across social media outlets searching for someone who would have the right looks. Her ability to work the computer without having to operate it manually was a godsend as images and threads blazed by across the screen. Suddenly one paused and she gave it a good look. The woman, Moira Morley, had a face that would really suit the Greek Goddess part... well with a little post processing at least. She wasn't a professional and worked at a bar in the West End. That was about as perfect as it was going to get. Hopefully she would want the money and perhaps some exposure! To: Moira.Morley@morleyspub.com From: Zhu.Xieng@gmail.com Subject: Hi! Would you like to star in a movie? Hello, I know this is really kind of random, but I produce YouTube short movies and have been looking for someone to feature in my latest one. You have a perfect look for what I want to do and was wondering if you might be willing to spend a couple of afternoons to star in my film. I'm a student at Claremont but have some money to pay you as well as a successful channel. While the money wouldn't be great, if you are at all interested in acting, the exposure would be pretty good. I would love to meet with you and show you my work and talk over the possibility of you working with me. Sincerely, Alexa Xieng

GM 11:00PM The Fens Freedom City, New Jersey, United States Thursday, January 11th 2018 Moe had drawn a lucky lot in working the closing shift at Joe's. The past forty minutes had been dedicated to cleaning up the inside of the diner essentially by her lonesome. With two trash bags in hand, she made her way to the alley just about ready to finish her shift. That was when she heard the scream. It was high pitched and definitely attention-grabbing. The Drunk Tank was essentially a college bar. And the sole reason students attending Freedom College would travel as a group into the Fens without being part of some sort of alternative school club. The bar was actually a remodeled jail, whose design still leaned heavily on its law enforcement roots. In some way a testament to the feelings of law and order in the Fens. Whatever the case may be on this particular night Captain Anabelle Flint found herself engaged in the middle of a drinking contest with a 200 lb. college football player when she heard the blood-curdling scream.

GM Iridium Shore Gerivan, Volash Lor time mark 1484.1 [January 2nd (Terran Calendar)] Once again, the Voidrunners had found themselves acting as freelancers. Their recent individual successes let to an offered commission as professional privateers for the Lor. Which was promptly turned down. The news of the refusal led to their latest job offer from the man who taught Roulette everything he knew about surviving in space. But, they were not alone as the Praetorians had sent two envoys along to the meeting. General Almasi of the Stellar Khanate was one Kinan Khan's many "trusted" officers. The former captain of a band of Khanate Pirates, Star Khan conquered his crew and took the pirate under his control. Breaking and bending the man under his iron fist, one of many. But, after the Incursion as Kinan's heirs began squabbling for control of their father's territory, Amalsi's true loyalties revealed themselves. The former general starting his own campaign to take control of what was left of the Khanate. The Zultasian general was in his late 50's, dark indigo colored skin and greying silver hair that ran down to his waist. His left eye was covered by a cybernetic eyepatch that appeared as if were bolted on to his flesh. His right hand was missing, albeit safely protected behind the cover of the bright yellow Zultasian warsuit that he was wearing. The suit itself was heavily scarred with obvious signs that many pieces had been hastily replaced by other discarded armors. Amalsi's reputation for ruthlessness implied that the Khanate revolutionary would not drastically change the empire's culture. However, his deeds with the Coalition and expressed goals for at least some continued relations with the Lor made him sound almost trustworthy. The meeting place was inside a VIP room of the infamous Irridium Shore. Gerivan's finest casino and home to all manner of the worst dregs the Lor had to offer.

27 December, 2017. 432PM. Damien looked in the refrigerator. It was his turn to cook. It was always his turn to cook. Paying off the debt of living with his friend in a nice area of town. Luckily, Austin Sinclair - the founder of the feast, so to speak - kept a fully stocked kitchen. Tonight's menu was simple. Mushroom-stuffed Pork Tenderloins. Luckily for Damien, dead things didn't show any patterns. He thought about being a vegetarian for a while. The patterns showed him really messed up things, not just humans. Animals too! He just didn't understand animal biology that much. As Damien began to prep the ingredients, he smelled burning. Looking outside, somehow (he had some educated guesses how) the building across the street was at 3 alarm blaze. He scanned... yeah, there were people still in there. Dinner was going to be late. Austin knew of Damien's engagements outside of cooking and school. Didn't make him any less hungry. Damien dropped his shirt and pants to reveal the morphic molecules costume he wore under it. Pulling over the mask Damien was now Power. As quick as he could, he rushed outside to hear the fire trucks coming. He had to get in an rescue those people. Luckily his body repaired itself fast enough to avoid some of the fire. Hopefully he could get some people to safety!

Earth K-Eldritch-5, Geloyra. The people of this Earth live by a loose set of morals, but there are heroes. And some of them are actually OK people. Oh, they'll save you, but you'll pay them for it somehow. Almost all believe in the reward for a job well done. Almost all believe in leaving a swath of bodies in their wake and taking the 'stuff' from said bodies. They'll return to small villages and towns to spend their rewards on alcohol and companionship. Gorth, a marauder. He wields a giant ax with the rage and fury of a demon. He speaks very little words that don't involve the name of his ax and his clan. Hysti, a chaos witch. A comely maiden who's lot in life is to get everything through her physical wiles or, if that fails, her magic. Barron, a thief. Like his trade implies, he will steal anything that isn't bolted down. And you most likely won't see him do it. Windleaf, a shaman. Turns into owls and trees and humanoid hybrids of those to heal and protect the others. The least bloodthirsty. Oh, she'll kill, no problem, but she goes down the path of least resistance. Who are these people? They call themselves the Squires of Avalon. They've made a name for themselves. Minstrels sing of their deeds far and wide. They're not quite legends, but everyone has at least heard of them on their earth. Right now they are planning the end of an epic adventure that will take them to another dimension to find the evil wizard Evadsrednas! Once they have his head on a pike, they will return to the kingdom of Autumnal and receive their rewards. Earth-Prime. Freedom City. 632PM. Friday. Near Federal Plaza. It's just another cold January day. A week or two ago, the world came to 2018 peacefully. Business has slowed to a crawl in the busiest part of town. But people still believe in commerce, the businesses thrive! But there are other reasons to be here. Mr. Murk has received a premonition that there will be a massive dying around this place at this time. He searches for answers to how and why. As if to answer the immortal's query, a giant red portal opened up. If the ancient neanderthal could see what came out of it, he's see a tall mountain of a man with sun darkened skin carrying a large ax on his shoulder, wearing nary but a loincloth made of a lion. A woman so beautiful that both man and women stop and stare. She's dressed in a revealing robe made of red and purple silks. A short man - a child maybe? - dressed in black leather armor, his hands resting on two of the multiple daggers on his person. And a woman with long sharp ears and a wearily expression, wearing a dress made of withered fallen leaves. "This, this place," the leaf-wearing woman speaks with a troubled ton and a valley accent, "its the right place. The connection to the world is greatly diminished!" "Don't worry, Leafy," the short guy said merrily with a British ganger accent, "we ain't gunna be here that long, luv. An' maybe we'll get some weird shyte that we can take back? Countin on it!" The silken robed woman looked to the gathering crowd, she smiled and giggled before making a snowman out of nowhere and having her and it dance for them. The muscle beast growled harshly, "less talk. Less play. Find Evas- Every-... Gods damned wizard." He looked to the robed woman, "talk, not dance!" The silken robed woman rolled her eyes at the wall of meat. Making the snowman disappear. "excuse me, excuse me," she addressed the crowd, her voice sounded French accented, "where would we find your tower of wizards? We are looking for Evadsrednas Do you know of him?"

GM London, 1850, Winter...the Offices of Mr. Ebenezer Fiddle, Lawyer... An interlude from London Calling to discuss philosophy and such like and so forth... "Unngh..." groaned Mr. Fiddle, his burnt arm draped in cold wet bandages, the Laudanum having finally kicked in. "Don't mind me, please..." he mumbled at Dreadnought and Mr. Murk (whom had kindly tended to him. He might be blind, but he knew his way around the offices most well, and was tender in giving care). "Please help your selves to brandy...I know I will..." he said, floating between nearly awake and nearly asleep, and hoping Brandy might provide further relief from his injury. Mr. Murk sat down with Dreadnought, although the giant of Liverpool (or Norwegian troll, depending on which gossip one was inclined to believe) could of course not sit on any furniture. At least the floor had nice rugs. Indian, if Dreadnought were to guess. Mr, Murk himself had a brandy although only sipped it, savouring its taste rather than devouring its alcohol. "I don't think I have ever met anyone quite like you sir" he said, quite blind but seeming to look at Dreadnought nonetheless. "And that is saying something I rarely say these days. I might wonder that you have only told me selected elements of your story?" he asked, politely and warmly. "I don't know if you would care to regale me with more refinement?"

GM Dec 1st, Under a midday sun of surprising warmth and fury... The dusty town of Meddy, Arizona... Was indeed dusty and warm. It was in the low twenties, and the Saguaro of the Sonoran desert bathed in a clear light. Why anyone had tried to set up a settlement here was almost beyond comprehension, but the little town of Meddy, almost deserted, was still some how alive (if on life support). It seemed to live off old native Indians selling trinkets, biker gangs, and its central building "Wildheart", which could not quite decide if it was a gambling den or a strip joint, and had lurched around trying to be both. But the gun runner Flare was not at Wildheart. She was on a dusty road to the north of Meddy, a few miles out, in an open topped car. She had largely recovered from the beating she had received from Spitfire and Bird of Arms A month ago, although still had a plaster across her nose. Despite her red hair, she was deeply tanned, wearing mirrored black glasses, a black crop top (which was extremely conservative when it came to amount of textile, and extremely unconservative when it came to skin shown), and black jeans, barefoot, and listening to some strange jazz-metal fusion on loudspeaker. And despite the beating (and to her vexation), she was here to help Spitfire and Bird of Arms catch the Happy man. Her partner, Snowbird, had agreed to do so. Flare was not sure that was a good thing to do, but on the other hand, she was tight with Snowbird, and wouldn't let her partner down. She just didn't like it. She checked her watch again... How long do I have to wait for those idiots? she sighed to herself.

It wasn't quite Christmas, but it was close. In another city, maybe Noemi would be at home, on vacation. ...But probably not. There was always someone trying to call a cab, and if the rest of them were led by people like Easy Steve, it was difficult to imagine them letting their drivers' loose at gunpoint. In the grand scheme of things, though, it wasn't too terrible a night to work, considering they were doing it in Bedlam. The sun had dipped over the horizon some time ago—which said less about the lateness of the hour and more about Winter's early nights—and a crowd of buzzed and deeply stressed young women had piled into the back to escape from some seedy watering hole downtown to the relative safety of home in Wolverton. Alert! Alert! SLAVE's script ran across Noemi's vision. Receiving signal from Soviet agents! Confir— Then it stopped and vanished, leaving the message incomplete. Naomi's vision quaked and distorted, like an old CRT on the fritz. Code started running quickly over her vision, bits of jargon and code flying past, making it harder to keep a good her eyes on the road. Then, text began to type again, in the same manner of SLAVE. But it wasn't quite the same... EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION RECEIVED HANDSHAKE PROTOCOL COMPLETE ALLIED AGENT ID #3914 CONFIRMED VERIFYING AGAINST INTERNAL DATABASE . . . VERIFYING . . . VERIFYING . . . VERIFIED. INITIALIZING PROTOCOL 502481BA0RAT MANUAL OVERRIDE - ENGAGE

Sanna was to be enrolled in Claremont, of course, but it was too late to start. Ultimately, inserting her into December classes would disrupt too much for too little gain. It would have to wait until January. She could live in the dorms and wait. Not that the short reprieve was not appreciated, but all the same, there wasn't much to do. The first few days were well spent, as Sanna became acquainted with her room, shook hands with the knob, asked the window what it had seen, admired the wall's secrecy, but it wasn't long before her room had revealed all its secrets. Eventually, she decided that she wanted to meet some books. The Antiquarian had kept his books almost as securely locked up as his creatures and Sanna had never gotten a chance to touch his books, nevermind talk to them. Their library seemed nice enough, though Sanna didn't really have context to understand exactly HOW good it was. She couldn't ready any of the human letting on their spines, so Sanna simply picked one at random and sat down. She fell easily into a chair, letting two hands fall, relaxed on the arm of the chair while she held the book up with the other two. Hello, friend. I have heard that you are a book. Is that true? She closed the book and stared at the cover. What do you mean? You can tell me. Her expression turned stricken. She let her hand rest affectionately on the book and shook her head. That's terrible!

West Berlin, 1948 A Cold Winter Night The snow fell lightly through the streets and whilst the air was still there was no denying the chill in the air. This was a defiant city but the blockade was biting, and there was a taste of misery floating in the air. Mr. Murk tapped his way through the streets. This was no place for a blind man, for charity was drying up even if not gone. And yet, here was an opportunity. He had money to buy on the black market, and a target in sight. Nevertheless, he felt the cold and his stomach rumbled. One nasty soul had tried to mug him. A blind man. Mr. Murk was a merciful sort by nature, but he had punched the man much harder than he strictly needed too. Counting the steps, clicking his cane, he knocked on the door of Hertzmann Fine Cigars. Not much call for cigars now. Not much coming in and out of Berlin. It had transformed, by necessity, into a smugglers shop. But it still sold cigars, and Mr Murk's nostrils flared at the sweet aroma as he entered. It was warm, too. Bathed in the bleak dimension of the Murk, he wore the look of a tall thin German man complete with well groomed blond hair and strong jaw. Best not his real appearance. He sat down, ordered a pair of cigars, and lit one for himself, waiting for the cold immortal he had seen in his visions to enter. Surely it would not be long now...

GM Prologue: Sometime in the Summer of 2017... ...The office of Amanda St. Croix, Freedom City It was a hot day, and the air con buzzed furiously. Amanda St. Croix was high on coffee, her blonde hair was its predictable mess and the roots were showing. She was a tall, thin, hyperactive woman full of restless energy and inventiveness but still learning the ropes as the manager of Valerie Cain. "Coffee?" she asked Valerie, holding two cups of coffee. Both were for her. Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on, alive with jitters. "Look, I got something pretty mad, but you may like it. But risky, but will make the nudes, I mean the news, big time...." she said, caffeine inspiring her characteristic rambling and Freudian slips. "Got some artistic savante guy, thinks he is breaking new paradigms or something. Totally dick, really. Cranio-rectal fistula. But I gotta hand it to him, he has some skills. Anyway, he wants to film a rock concert at the top of the Burj Khalifa. You know, that mad tall tower in the middle of the desert? If you don't mind a five star holiday, some sand up your backside, and the fact they live in the goddamn middle ages there when it comes to girls and boobs, I mean dudes, then you have a media frenzy that will go down in the history books...." she said, dribbling every word out through coffee and nerves.

Asteroid 60339-Bixby, The Asteroid Belt, Sol System Asteroid 60339-Bixby was an unremarkable object in Earths solar system on recently found after 5 million years in the darkness it would have remained unremarkable until humanity made it's into space. But a passing ESA probe had picked up a faint signal of alien origins coming from the asteroid, they'd passed it onto the Freedom League who'd passed it onto CoVic station. Seeing as it was probably a fairly innocuous signal, many systems had scattered remains of various von Neumann machines of pass explorations, the Praetorian had arranged for to check it out on their regular patrol. Just in case anything was found they'd arranged for a representative of the Sol System to meet them before they reached the asteroid itself. Everything seemed routine, though this was like nothing they could have possibly imagined...

December 9, 2017 Freedom City Maritime Museum The Waterfront Alexa Xieng's homework had taken her to the Freedom City Maritime Museum, a small private museum that discussed the history of Freedom City's shipping industry. There was actually quite a bit of history to see here, much of it going far beyond the age of heroes that had begun in the late 1930s. In her walkthrough so far she'd passed everything from a birchbark canoe like those used by the Lenape Indians who'd once lived all up and down the New Jersey coast to the cunningly hand-crafted model of one of the Nantucket whalers that had docked at Freedom's ports from the late 18th century on. The museum's tour guide, an older man with a white-streaked beard and a merchant marine cap, was obviously much more eager to talk about this part of Freedom's history than the "new wing." "Don't get me wrong," said "Captain Craig" a little awkwardly as he glanced into the newly constructed wing of the museum, its metal-walled rooms a sharp contrast to the rebuilt Victorian brick that made up most of the rest of the museum - which had once been a shipping baron's house, a century or so before Alexa's birth. "We certainly support Freedom City's hero population - but there isn't much to say about their maritime history. We discuss the Deep One invasion and the Atlantean one last year, of course," he went on as the two of them crossed the central foyer of the museum to the "hero wing", "but you can find that on your local websites. But don't let the curator hear me say that," he added with a wink. "We do have some fine artifacts preserved," he added, "all of them donated to us by the Freedom League. Behind Captain Craig, peering through the doors of the new wing, Alexa could make out the newer exhibits the man was speaking about - the Deep One invasion of 2011 being one of the main centers of attraction. In fact, a nearly intact Deep One suit of battle armor was in a glass case at the center of the room - but a half-dozen seeming-'tourists' were in the process of opening the case! The half-dozen men, all of them in Hawaiian shirts and Bermuda shorts that clashed oddly with the chilly weather outside, were intent on their work - and hadn't noticed them yet.

Susshek System, Former Asshui Worlds System It was one hell of a mission. There had been a few reports about what the Asshui had been fleeing from, some more detailed than others, some more trustworthy. And occasionally, there were news of things happening in their former systems. But so far, all of the were word-of-mouth, and without much evidence going for them. There was ample reason to change that fact, and thus a group of refugees, supporters and a few organizations had decided to send out multiple scouts, to enter the home systems of the fleeing peoples. They had a simple mission; to document what was happening, and to get back with as much information as possible. Finding people that were both trustworthy enough, preferably with their own method of transport and not opposed to doing it wasn’t easy, a large part of the muscle available in the Sharahazad Sector, the hotbed of the crisis, lacked one of the two qualities. One of the few teams that had been sent out was that of Starshot - trusted enough and in possession of a suitable craft - and Bliss, who’d been suggested by one of the sponsors as somebody who was “trustworthy enough”, whatever that meant. So far everything had gone smooth, there hadn’t been a single encounter. But now the Xeno, Starshot’s starship, had entered the system that the two of them had been tasked with scouting. It had been a former industrial hub, not on the scale of some of the ones in known space, but large enough to be economically important. And only a few refugees had managed to make their way out, meaning there was a lot of interest in figuring out just what was going on. And in order to do that, the planet Susshek was probably the right place. Now they just had to get there …

December 18th. 10:30ish AM. Winter break for Claremont. And Alumni Elias Silvestri was asked to do a thing. Which meant they were desperate, or they didn't know how to related to Jann. Given Elias was viewed with... less than stellar perspective, he didn't understand how he could help. Other than the telepath and outsider thing. But there he was sitting in a little camp in Wharton, arms folded, as he was perched in a folding camp chair, near the fire. In a bit of an makeshift sort of shelter he was proficient in making, and in his heavy, reinforced jeans, and green flannel shirt, he waited for Jann. His eyes locked on the fire waiting. Talk, he supposed, help. Or something. Not that they gave him much to work from, so it was probably as much a lesson for him, as it was for the student. F***ing Summers always playing these little games. Even when it didn't objectively help as much as hinder. So he waited.

GM Dec 5th, 5.48 AM, Freedom City Junior Ballet "Special delivery, special delivery!" A young man, not yet in his twenties, just off his bicycle, came into the practice hall waving an envelope. It was a chilly day, but he was sweating. Part of it, surely, from a morning of bicycling, but perhaps coming into a hall full of lithe women stretching might also excite his inexperienced hormones. He tried not to look too much, and read out the address on the envelope. "Miss Cor-reen Conrad? Miss Correen Correen Con-rad?" he blurted, looking around without trying to let his eyes linger on any one form in particular. A few dancers gave a little laugh at his glowing cheeks. The envelope in question looked rather old, and had elegant inked handwriting on. It felt, and indeed was, rather antique.