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As well as being a responsible city Freedom City was also a place that knew how to let it's hair down, and like everything, Superheroes liked to party. Thought of often very different beliefs, many of them gathered to celebrate the Holiday season in the superhero equivalent of an Office Party. At various point through Freedom City heroes, in and out of costume gathered to celebrate the Holiday season together Morley's Pub, West End

Whilst like any city Freedom City has its problems it also took great care to help those who were struggling for a variety of reasons. Many generous people gave up their time to try and help those in need, an especially at a time like this when not only was it the holiday season but the temperatures tended to drop. As with most things in the city, Superheroes were very much involved giving their time and energy to help make a difference in whatever ways they could. Temporary Soup Kitchen, Liberty Park Robin's Nest Senior Care, Lincoln, Freedom City

GM London, 1850 'Twas a most chilly London night. The Yuletide season had kicked off with a dusty snow that was already becoming black from the machinations of London. A frost in the air, an ice on the roads. The sun was lost in grey clouds and all in all it was a cold, bleak day. Such grim and grime as there was (and verily, it was plentiful) was soon interrupted by a crashing sound at Leicester square, followed by a splashing sound. Victim of the Darwin-XC virus (a chronologically infused variant of that most potent viral agent), the massive hulk of Dreadnought came crashing through time itself, slap bang (yay, a bullseye in this matter) in the middle of the nineteenth century without warning or preamble. There was a crunch as he collided with Nelson's column to most ruinous effect, and a splash as he cut through ice into the fountains and pond beneath. Whatever disorientation such violent motion may (or may not) have caused, 'twas nought but a second until all could see the mighty column of Nelson crack and start to fall, breaking at midpoint. And screams from those about to be crushed my the mighty masonry!

November 7th, Morleys Pub, West End. The snow fell across Freedom City like a smothering blanket in a surprise Nor'easter which hammered the proud city with over 24 inches of snow in less than six hours. Across the city, old timers were reminiscing about the Megalopolitan Blizzard of 83 and telling anyone who would listen that this paltry bit of snow hardly counted. Emergency services were out in force and with the help of many of the cities more civil minded heroes, had most of the essential services running to most of the city. The gusting winds and blistering cold at least had the tendency to keep most of the citizens indoors and those few who ventured out, seemed to find solace and company in the many cozy pubs and taverns which mostly managed to stay open. Morley's pub, home to many of the cities finest, was one such place. Offering warmth and spirits even as the storm raged just outside the wood paneled walls. The crowd was sparse, but lively, with most of them relishing the chance to have a day off their normal schedules. Sean Morley wiped clean a few glasses before walking over to the fireplace to drop another log into the glowing warmth. While it didn't really put out a ton of heat, it just made the place seem more comforting and on a day like today, that's what people were looking for.

Downtown Emerald City It wasn't the tallest building in Emerald City, that like his ego was probably Mars's, it was even easily accessible from the ground with a little climbing. But it probably had one of the best views of the city at night a stream of colourful lights down towards the Columbia River. It wasn't obvious how good the view was unless you happened to be someone who spent there time up in the air, so was a secret to many who spent most of there time down on the ground. And right now one of those people was enjoying the view.

At first glance, the tall man leaning against the exterior of the imposing Freedom League headquarters, looked like he might be smoking far too close to the building's entrance. A closer look, however, would reveal that the ember dancing along his tattooed knuckles wasn't connected to anything at all, and certainly not a cigarette. Bowing to the winter weather, Ray wore his leather jacket over the tank top and BDU's that he worked in. Immortality did not, sadly, provide an immunity to cold and while the spark of light in his hands kept his fingertips warm, he'd have to summon something far larger and far more eye catching to heat anything more than his fingertips. Technically, he was finished offering his 'consultation', although Ray didn't think that he'd provided anything unknown to the magic-users attached to the Freedom League, but Ray was trying to be a bit more environmentally conscious and take advantage of the city's public transportation system. His good intentions, however, were going straight out the window if the damn bus took another ten minutes.

The Fen's were known for many things, violence, poverty, crime, and much more. However, one bright spot in an otherwise bleak spot of the city was Joe's Diner. Established shortly after the Fen's became associated with the theater district, it's combination of cheap mostly decent fare attracted an eclectic crowd especially after a show. It was then that the artsy types looking for authentic diner fare mingled with those looking to get something to line their stomach for a fraction of what they'd spend at some of the more well to do establishments. For most of the people in the Fens, Joe's was fine dining and had a steady but sparse set of clientele. Frank Constanzio, know to the regulars as Frankie stood behind the counter with a scowl on his face, his meaty hand resting next to a sign that read, 'I ain't Joe'. Tonight was going to be that kind of night, one of those Broadway shows was letting out and pretty soon they'd be swamped with every manner of patron imaginable. If they didn't count on the business, he'd have closed every theater night as he didn't need the trouble and aggravation that it brought. He wondered how many times he'd have to let people know that they didn't have tofu anything and sighed while flipping a leathery looking rib-eye that would go in their signature steak sandwich. Well, it was as close to a signature dish as this place would have. Really, fast and cheap was the motto and he'd be damned if he was going to up sell, upscale, or whatever else those cooking shows said restaurants needed to do. With a shake of his head, he slapped the semi tough, but flavorful piece of meat onto some bread next to the bed of greasy looking fries and slid the plate across the counter, "Moe! Order up! One roast on toast!" Of course, it was hard to hear him as a FCPB car came blazing down the street sirens blaring as it descended into the chaos that was the fens. When it had finally passed he shouted again, "Roast on toast is up! Moe!"

Summer 2017 It was a beautiful summer day in Emerald City, Oregon - especially if you stood here on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, far from the noisy, delicious minds of the city and enjoyed the peace and solitude of crashing waves at the base of this seaside cliff. The beaches here weren't like the ones Sensus had known back on the Jersey coast, much rockier and colder, but they had a wild beauty all the same. "Excuse me, miss. Did you need some help?" Turning behind her, silhouetted by an east-rising morning sun, Sensus looked up to see Citizen - the most famous superhero in Emerald City. For his part, Citizen's early morning flight had let him spot this girl by the edge of seaside cliffs that had taken the life of more than one young man or young woman in the last few years. There was a fence - but it wouldn't be hard for someone that small to slip underneath it. At first glance, he'd assumed this was a lost child - but she clearly wasn't too far from his own early twenties, though his black costume and glowing blue chest symbol marked him as a superhero.

The scene…well, actually, neither Valerie Cain (alias, among other names, the heroic Wayward) nor Yamazaki Moe (aka the vetted rookie hero Sensus) quite knew where they were. Or how they’d gotten to this random city street. The street was lined with restaurants, bars, and clubs of seemingly every possible variety, and tonight business was booming. Before either heroine could reflect on what was going on here, a door burst open to one of the music clubs. Sobbing people poured out of it in one of several ways; either staggering as if their muscles wouldn’t work properly, attempting to return their dinners and drinks to sender, fleeing in terror, careening off walls and cars as if blind and deaf, or (worst of all) clutching their ears in clear physical agony. Clearly, something had gone horribly wrong in that establishment.

Monday, November 27th 2017: 9:00am, Claremont Academy Zhu got out of the small old Honda Civic and had to just stop and look. While she already had looked over the school with an illegally appropriated satellite, checked every photo that was in a cloud anywhere, and had as much comprehensive knowledge about her new school as she could possibly get, there was something about the majesty of the campus that still overwhelmed her. It was a stark reminder that while information was good, there was nothing that could quite replace actual experiences. Perhaps she would have to do some research into why reality was so real. Around her, the suprisingly warm November day had a glorious feel to it and the students were taking advantage of the Indian Summer, perhaps anticipating the winter to come. "<Go ahead, we're proud of you. You can do this>," her mother gently chided to her in Mandarin from the passenger seat. Zhu, no Alexa, she had to keep reminding herself that, turned to her mother and smiled, "<Thank you for your sacrifice. I will honor your choice.>" Her mother waved once and, as neither of them were fond of long emotional goodbyes, drove off leaving Alexa standing staring at her new school. Brushing back her hair, she took a deep breath and muttered to herself in slightly accented English, "this is where I should be." She knew the path to the registrar's office and began heading across the well manicured lawns not bothering to hide her wide eyed wonder at the diverse student body. Without taking the phone out of her pocket she pulled up the agenda that had been sent too her. It was rather vague, something that annoyed her, but contained at least a starting point to her new journey. Of course, in the name of efficiency, her parents had dropped her off nearly a full hour before she had to be anywhere, but if her schools in Shanghai taught her anything, it was that punctuality was to be observed to the exclusion of nearly all else. She was certain that the Dean would feel the same way.

7:00 PM, December 2nd.. Amir al-Misri's beachfront mansion. Nestled into the Northbank was the nameless mansion-slash-semi vacation location of Amir al-Misri. For thanksgiving weekend he had loaned it to his daughter, Corinne Conrad, so she and her friends from school could have a beach bonfire party. Something he was told that the kids in the Northeast part of the states (and Jersey!) did. He had no first hand knowledge of such, but it was sort of the thing right? Corinne didn't know any better herself, but figured a party might smooth things over with some people who had bad first interactions. She also didn't assume, saying she had food and such, but people could bring what they want, if they wanted. Right now, though, she was tending to the bonfire she had started, and make sure that there was nothing near it that could start a fire, and she had built a fire pit around it (with judicious use of power, as well as shaped the sand into benches around it). She expected Hannah to show, maybe others. She had opened the invitation to anyone she had classes with. Even Jann, though it wasn't handed to him. She... well there still issues there. Wasn't there? There were some event tents set up nearby to sort of make it a cozy affair to shield against inclement weather. They had their own heaters in them, along with most amenities.

Tuesday, November 28th , 2017 Blackstone Federal Penitentiary Cell Block B, Cell 254 4:26 AM Live in Blackstone wasn’t all bad. Sure, there was little freedom and everywhere you went, somebody was likely watching you. Nobody really liked each other, and everything was scheduled down to a point. But at the very least sleeping tight wasn’t an issue. Getting woken up in the middle of the night was incredibly rare, the prison tried to avoid it whenever possible due to some bad experiences. So when suddenly, somebody knocked at Prisoner SH-202, better known as Synth, ‘s cell, it was enough to get her attention, even at this point of the night. What came after did even more for that. The clicking of the lock, indicating the door had been unlocked, and the whisper, easily audible with Synth’s ears. It was in Swedish. [“Come with us.”]

"Hey." "Heeeey." "Li! Liii! Wake up!" A tug. Warmth fell away and cool air rushed to fill the empty space. Reluctantly, Kat shuddered, slowly remembering she was a person. Groggily, she pushed herself to her knees on her bed, yawned and fixed the chipper young women standing over her with a blanket in her hands a heavy-lidded glare. Who was this person and why she holding her blanket? For a minute, she was a stranger. A tall young woman with a bright smile and bright green hair style in an undercut. It felt like Kat was staring at the sun from her sheer cheerfulness. Or maybe because the woman had thrown open the blinds and let the sun shine into the room from behind her. Kat decided she didn't care either way. "What you staring for?" "Maybe if I stare hard enough, you'll catch fire . . ." Ah, that's right! ". . . Tally." Her roommate in Emerald City. "Why am I not sleeping?" Tally shook her head sadly. Gosh, she was even dressed! "You slept in! It's noon!" "NOON?! I . . ." Kat's eyes startled opened wide, but then quickly irised back into their tired sag. "It's Saturday." "I figured we could hang out together a little today." She said, her face falling a little. "It's been a little bit. Wanted to check up on you." "Why would you think that?" Tally gave a small, knowing grin. "Pizza, downtown. My treat." Kat blinked, sat up a little straighter. Rubbed her eyes. "I hate you." "You love me." "I love pizza." She sighed. "Gimme an hour."

GM Inside the SouTeq headquarters building, Thebes, Egypt, Earth-C-Tech-20970 50 years since big business superceded governments, 1 month since the creation of the Device, 45 minutes since entry, three and one-quarter seconds since things began to go wrong... With a bone-jarring impact Marcel Suvou, one of the richest and most powerful men on Earth, flew headlong into a transparent wall, the creation of exotic polymers and high-stressed metal rippling around him as he slumped awkwardly against one of the obsidian lions inexplicably ringing the office. The archaic-looking wristwatch that would have ended her for good lay peacefully on Marcel's desk. But, despite her lighting-swift kick, Scion was still in trouble. The alarm rattled and screamed through the thick, hot night air and even with the suitcase she had risked so much for mag-locked to her arm it would take a miracle to make it hers. Outside, in the halls she had been sauntering through without a care, she could hear booted feet, the heavy tread of bullbots and the ringing shrieks of hawkbots as the small army she had ghosted past just minutes ago moved to trap her. Outside, beyond the balcony, she could see the complex moving into lockdown. She could also see the relatively gentle slope of the SouTeq Building's pyramidal facade. At the least, it would be faster than walking.

Lynn and Gretchen's Apartment. Tuesday, March 14th, 2017. 1:05 am It had been a long night for the Shrike; Grimalkin's website got an anonymous tip about a human trafficking operation in Greenbank, but it didn't sound like it would be too dangerous. Lynn and Gretchen had been working on inventory with a little informal help from their new roomie Moira when the tip came in; thinking the situation would be quickly resolved, Gretch offered to take the op solo, though Lynn insisted she call her the minute things got too dicey. Gretch found the operation all right; it just happened to be run by a den of Greek witches who loved throwing vipers at their enemies, and hired ex-Spetsnaz 'eyegougers' for security. The young barista repeatedly tried to call Lynn, but the witches somehow blocked magical communication, which left the ringwielder fighting for her life for the better part of an hour in a freightyard. But all those hours playing first person shooters and training with Lynn really payed off; by the time the cops finally showed up, Gretch had personally subdued seven witches and nine Russian bad guys. The FCPD was suitably impressed, and the officers thanked her once they got her statement. Not ready to head home just yet, Shrike grabbed a coffee and slowly savored it on a rooftop, her feet dangling over the edge. Part of her was glad she wasn't able to reach Lynn; it was nice to know that if the chips were down and her back against the wall, she, Gretchen McDaniels, could kick serious ass. Now flying back towards home and the comforting arms of her lover, Gretch gently probed to see if Lynn was still awake; if she didn't get an immediate response, it usually meant the changeling was passed out somewhere already. If she wasn't in bed, Gretch used the Ring of Power to carefully pick her up and float her into the bedroom and tuck her in. The invisble crimefighter landed in the small lightwell patio between the two apartments and opened the door, stepping into the dining room. There was a soft flickering glow coming from the living room, which probably meant Lynn had fallen asleep watching home movies on her beloved PictureBox from Otherworld. Not wanting to wake her girlfriend, Gretch floated silently into the room to an unexpected sight: Lynn and Moira, sleeping on the sofa together under a blanket. All she could do was float and stare at the two of them for several minutes. At length, she finally crossed her arms and spoke. "Well, then."

It was a dark and stormy afternoon. The name on the sign was DELTA Labs. It had been quite a big operation. Two story warehouse. Now it was surrounded by cops and barricaded by sawhorses. Replica (masked android in search of justice) and Salvo (teen genius and power armored magus) were here because…wait, why were they here? That was odd…they didn’t remember leaving home. Or meeting up. Or even traveling here. “Thank god you’re here.” It was a police detective, clad in a suit with badge prominently displayed. He could have come right out of Central Casting. “Those two are holed up inside, and my boys couldn’t dislodge them with a forklift. First team’s on their way to the hospital now.” He sighed in disgust. “Should’ve known they were here. Building’s been empty for months. Company went bankrupt.” He took his battered hat off, and squeezed it. “We were promised some help from the LT, and looks like you’re it. Olivia!” An African American woman with a badge at her waist (who could have stepped right out of Central Casting herself) walked up. “What’s going on, Mason? Oh, the heroes are here? Good.” Mason put his hat back on his head. “Detective Rocky Mason. My partner, Olivia Briscoe. Just say the word, and we’ll get you whatever you need. And don’t worry about building damage. You’ll save the new owners some money. Gonna knock it down in a couple weeks, put up some condos or somethin’.”

A contact still on the force had passed on a hot tip about a missing little girl. And so here Mindjumper (former police officer, current professional superhero) found himself seated on a couch in a small apartment. A young woman (younger than he was, which was saying something considering she was the mother of the missing girl) serving him his preferred beverage. Her name was..wait, what was her name again? The world seemed completely unreal for a second, and even after that had passed something was still…off. At any rate, missing girl to find. Distraught young mother in front of him.

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

So, then. Moira Morley (alias the superheroic Scion) found herself on a wide beach. It stretched to her front and back seemingly endlessly. To her left was a tropical jungle. To her right was the ocean. How did she get here? Gods (perhaps literally) only knew. Where was she? Again, gods only knew. At least it was a cloudless day, and the sun was bright. The only thing preventing her from relaxing and maybe going for a swim was the guy about ten feet down the beach from her. He was approaching quickly, and (one more time, because why not) gods only knew who he was or what he wanted.

Content Notice: Character Death Date: November 6, 2017 Location: Phantom's Sanctum Sanctorm in North Bay For once, it was a quiet Monday for Taylor. Halloween was always a busy time for her line of work, but the week afterwards, she'd come to expect the lull. Today, that happened to coincide with a day off with her boys' schools. Sprawled on her stomach on the large rug of her library, Taylor's brow furrowed as she tried to stay ahead of JJ in their lego assembly project. The latest addition to the haunted castle line was halfway assembled, but where Taylor wanted to follow the directions to the letter, her youngest had a tendency to... improvise. "I don't think that goes there," she told the seven year old at his efforts to attach the constructed wall to the top of the tower. "It'th better defenceth!" JJ lisped only to scowl as he heard the distortion that his fangs made to the words. With his brows creasing, he enunciated carefully with a seven year old's scorn, "What kinda keep has open access like that. It's just asking to be caught by surprise." "Well-- hrk-" Whatever Taylor had meant to say was lost, her voice falling from human into the otherworldly echo it took on when she released her hold on Prime. JJ's eyes could only widen as his mother froze in place, her body flickering almost frantically, as if she couldn't quite sync in with Prime as all the barriers between Here and Other failed for one awful, terrifying moment. Even at seven, JJ's other senses were established enough to feel the danger even if he didn't know what it was, or what caused it. As he'd been trained to since he was old enough to understand, JJ did exactly two things; "DAAAAAAAAAD!" And then the seven year old dhampir vanished into the Void, exactly as he was supposed to in case of a potential invasion of Prime.

Content Notice: Character Death, Cursing Date: November 6, 2017 All across the prime dimension, it was a day much like any other. There were dangers, both large and small. The third planet from the sun continued to spin, with all its many denizens busy with their lives. Some might have been recovering from a long weekend, while others might be looking forward to a holiday season. Many of the planet's costumed defenders were busy with the usual threats to the populaces they defended. Time progressed... Until it didn't. Between the tick of a second hand, for just a moment, the prime dimension... hiccuped. It was as if all of creation was a ball spinning wildly in the air, uncertain if it would actually be caught. Those with the sort of mystical senses might feel it in a myriad of ways, pressure in their ears or perhaps a flicker in the corner or their eyes. For those with their eyes truly opened to the vast eternity of the cosmic coil, for one heart stopping microsecond, all the barriers that kept prime safe flickered, with all the myriad possibilities superimposed. It was a moment of utter madness before sanity and order were restored.

Nancy Street, Oct. 17th 10:47PM It was a relatively quiet night on Nancy street. Gunfire could be heard in the distance, a woman's scream, a child crying, the sounds of domestic disturbances and aggravated assaults, and of course after the screams faded to whimpers, the sounds of sirens. All in all, a quiet night in comparison to most. The rain had started to fall on Bedlam City, doing it's level best to wash the grime and the muck and the human refuse away. To leave the world clean and new again. Bedlam, and Nancy street in particular, would not be so easily swept away. It's stain marked the states, the world, a dark black spot on a hardwood floor that refused to come up no matter how much you scrubbed. Bedlam was the reminder of mistakes past, of wrongs done, of lives lost. A strange sound over the din of inequity peeled through the air of Nancy street. The church bells started to ring. No mass anyone knew of was taking place, it was no holiday, it was not quite midnight. The crystal clang of that pure sound seemed both off and ominous, and many lights turned on in the houses and tenements, this sound above all others piqueing the curiosity of the jaded residents. As the bells faded there was a knock on Ronin's door. Downtown Bedlam Abandoned Mill It was a quiet and dark place that Victor popped into, stepping out of the shadows. This was not part of his contract with the Scarpias, but old habits died hard, and he needed to destroy something... precious. No one was in at the moment, as he had made sure, it wasn't time for justice to be meted out, it was time for the chase. Victor laid the parchment he brought on a dresser and pinned it in place with a dagger, it's hilt in the style of a rose dripping blood, the symbol of his old Order. The parchment read: The Church on Nancy Street. Come find me, or I find those you hold dear. There was no signature. Victor smiled again as he melted back in the shadows. The petty thugs might be upset that he was bringing an uninvited guest, but he cared little. They were nothing, he did work for them to pay bills, so he could do his real Work. The game had begun.

It seemed like Lynn and Gretchen (alias Grimalkin and The Shrike) had only blinked, and the world was now somehow…off. It was subtle, with a slight dreamlike quality. Now they were in the modern equivalent of a (audience less) Roman Coliseum. How, why, and when did this happen? Kind of…fuzzy on that one. There was a slight memory of leaving Silberman’s Books, but that was all. The duo were close to the walls. Directly opposite from them were three other people. It was a bit far for either heroine to see them properly, though they wore obvious costumes. One was male, and the other two obviously female.

With the team gone an eerie silence settled over the suddenly too large, open, and vulnerable dojo. The children were fitful in their beds the tension in the household penetrating their slumber though not yet waking them. Gina wheeled herself silently around the kitchen completing the tasks left unfinished by the evening's interruptions with a quiet efficiency that belied the worry etching her face. Jill was left to monitor the security systems with VINCE looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary Talyas final advice ringing in her ears, "When they know we've come for them there's no telling what he might do, don't let him draw you out, and be ready for anything." Dimitri sat in the control room at freedom hall monitoring the police and military bands for anything unusual fortunate that he'd been left behind from the rest of the league's mission to free a small town in Vermont from Glaciers grasp when Talyas call for aid reached him. The usual dispatch and report of the police bands suddenly shifted as an evacuation was called for a West End neighborhood, a 'Gas Leak' but no chatter on the utilities and the order sent from some office of public safety the league had no ties to or information about. All too convenient. Across town Klara sat in a parkside cafe sipping her tea when Talyas request to be on alert reached her, perhaps it was for the best after all her wife had been called into the embassy tonight, it seemed date night was destined for interruption this week. She had just finished her cuppa when a caravan of firetrucks blazed past heading east sirens screaming into the night. Ace hunched forward over his desk phone pressed to his ear, "Those were supposed to have burned up over the pacific after the invasion." he sighed very nearly sounding his age as he hung up the phone and stood pulling on his coat and hat with a disgusted glance at the phone before he stormed out of the office shouting orders to the staff.

The building was on fire, and it wasn’t Facsimile’s fault. It wasn’t Woodsman’s fault, either. Just to set the record straight. The two weren’t sure of a lot of things. Like how they’d gotten inside a burning office building. What floor they were on (spoiler: the second of three). And, oh right, exactly who was the other one in the room (that was just a little on fire). What the two young heroes were sure of is that the building wasn’t empty besides them, there weren’t any sirens to be heard, and above all, there was something slightly…off, about everything. It was like the idea of a burning building from someone who’d never actually been in one.