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The Southern Queen was located near 76th & Wading, technically in the North End of Downtown Freedom. However, it was just as close to Parkside and Lantern Hill. Meaning even people from the West End or Midtown came in sometimes. That said, the regulars were people who all worked or studied at FCU mixed with the odd person who actually lived in the North End. The people who ate there more than once swore by it. The Queen didn’t have any particular style, which worked both for and against it. In fact, the menu itself said right at the top that it was just a list of suggestions, and that the Head Chef would produce virtually any dish on request, provided the Queen (or the customer) had the ingredients on hand. That said, the menu itself was full of generic fare. The kind of thing you could find in almost any home kitchen in America. There wasn’t a drop of fussiness or fancification about it, though some of the combinations were interesting. Which, again, ran entirely contrary to certain food critics’ delicate sensibilities. It was Sunday brunch, meaning Maybelle Mc Queen (Head Chef and the superhero Queenie), was busy as a bee. The place had been packed full to bursting last week, but now? It was a nice day, and they technically had the permits and a little space out front, so a few extra tables and chairs had been placed outside the front door to alleviate the problem. Lo and behold, it worked. There was a free table outside, and a pair inside. Maybelle had been just running around the kitchen all morning. If anyone had looked closely enough, they’d have seen her feet weren’t even on the floor half the time or more and she was moving a little too fast to be on her feet. But…everyone was either too busy or preoccupied, and the Head Chef’s ability to fly when unremarked upon. Then, suddenly, everyone currently seated had their food in front of their faces. Maybelle more or less collapsed into a chair at the free table outside and heaved a sigh. Break time, hooray. Well, sort of.

Daedalus Building, Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City Monday 1st June 6:00 am At this time of the year most technology lab’s would be completely silent and quiet shut up as students set their mind on “more important” less scholarly subjects. But Claremont wasn’t you most typical school and various technological devices hummed away of flashed little light in the darkness. Though unusually no one else was working in the lab right now, either from a very early start or still there from the night before.

Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City Saturday 9th May 11:00 am Daphne had a strange relationship with Claremont. Whilst she wasn’t quite a student, she was quite happy studying at Burroughs, she had been attending Claremont's to help learn more about her powers as well as fight alongside a kickass superhero team, when there schedules aligned. But today she’d been asked, by that very nice headmaster, to meet one of the new students another psychic students and help them understanding their powers. Not that Daphne understood her own power completely, they’d just been there since the day she woke up from her birthing pod, it was just natural to her and her powers had only got stronger the more she used them Which she guest was kinda the point.

It could have been any street in Freedom City, or almost any city in the world, a crowd of people making there way to work. In the early morning light everyone looked gray and almost the same, but that was because everything seemed to be in black and white. And there was no sounds the people moved in complete silence and more unusual for a telepath no thoughts or emotions leaked from these people. Apart from the two of you standing there as the crowd weaved around you there was a flash of red of a figure moving against the flow of people.

Sparrow Cafe, Southside It was a quiet day with a few customers, mostly quite happy with there food and relaxed and chatty. Good days like this were few and far between and needed to be enjoyed to their full extent. Of cause that was when superhero shenanigans were bound to happen. Today it was a giant foot, followed by enough walking past the cafe on there way to do something no good. Even though super’s were an almost everyday occurrence people still came out to see what was going on, though some jaded locals carried on with their business.

Thorton's GoodsGreenbank, Freedom City, New JerseyMonday, May 4th, 20155:12 PM GM "Put all your cash out of the register and no one gets hurt." The giant gorilla pointing the revolver towards the small mom and pop shop owner had been a familiar site in the Greenbank over the past few months. The dozen apes standing behind him as back ups. It was the Gorilla Gang! Gang activity having steadily increased in the Greenbank. Once thought of as simple youth and street gang of apes, their latest crime spree was a bit more focused nowadays. Organized even. Though that did nothing to explain why they were all bothering to wear ski masks on their faces. There were only so many uplifted and/or intelligent ape immigrants in the city. Sure, the lucky few dabbling in occasional bodyguard or super villain minion work had comparatively excellent health benefits. But, giant talking ape still narrowed a police suspect pool by quite a bit. Hal of the apes broke off into the store. Looting and ransacking it for its contents. Mostly tools and craft supplies. But, one of the gorillas took their share of bananas too. "Way to live the stereotype Cornelius," one of the apes who stayed behind called out to him. "You want I should put them back?" Cornelius asked in return. No one said anything to the ape's smug satisfaction. Hooting and hollering the Gorilla Gang did all but broadcast their location as they exited the store satisfied with their haul.

May 25, 2015 "...thanks to the selfless commitment and bravery all those who..." It wasn't that the sentiment wasn't heartfelt but the halting, uneven delivery by teenaged grandson of one of the veterans in gathered in the small park next to the VFW building did nothing to breathe new life into the paint-by-numbers speech and after growing up on military base after military base it was nothing Vicki Adams couldn't have recited even without the cue cards the kid was relying upon. As Memorial Day ceremonies went it was on the more solemn side, attended mainly by aging veterans and their family members but the promise of bingo and a raffle with an ArcheTech tablet as the grand prize robbed it of a little of it gravitas. More than anything it was a welcome opportunity to gather generations together and consider how lucky they were to be there together. The small cemetery on the other side of the park, its ornate fence lying just past the folding table holding the punch bowl and bingo hopper, was a sobering reminder of that. Looking serene as the bright sunlight shone over neat, well maintained rows of gravestones it was a quiet oasis next to the sounds of squeaking metal chairs, buzz from an inexpertly deployed sound system and intermittent coughing.

GM April 20th. There were in the wrong part of town. The criminals. Well at least the wrong timing for the wrong part of town. It didn't really help that they were in a neck of the woods (also know as The Docks) that Wildcat resided in. Or more accurately where he had his day job, and then a couple things out of place, and it led him here, during a shipment. Which had to go through here, air travel and shipping being a bit more watched than the sea and ocean going stuff. Which meant that one dude was taking a boomerang to the face, which was a polite response to the man drawing a gun. It was akin to say, 'No, sir, I do not believe that is a topic that belongs in our conversation.' The other three did put up a bit of a fight, however.

Silberman's Books. Friday, May 1st, 2015. 12:08pm It looked like it as going to a really nice weekend weather-wise, which usually meant busy mornings and afternoons at the small independent bookstore at the corner of Pratt and Frederick; as much as purists might scoff, Lynn knew when she reopened her family's store that adding the cafe elements would help drive revenue. True, some people just stopped in for coffee and a bagel as part of their daily routine, but they often grabbed a paper, magazine or gift card for a friend, so the hassle of milk and coffee deliveries was, in her eyes, totally worth it. Except for days when the milk order was running late; then Lynn wanted to hang herself. They were out of skim by 10:30 and almost out of soy, which tended to make many of the older lactose intolerant customers grumpy; they still had lots of almond milk, but there were often allergy issues. Lynn was in her office sitting behind her massive desk, trying to reach the dairy for the third time since before opening. "Oy gevalt, this is nuts; who doesn't have voicemail in this day and age?" Meanwhile on the sales floor, Maddy was helping a young couple find a special book for their niece's fifteenth birthday, and Lance was working the bar, a bandana covering his head as usual. Meanwhile Gretchen, Lynn's personal assistant, was sitting at one of the tables with her MacBook, a stack of completed applications and a large Americano within easy reach. - - - There was indeed a 'Now Hiring' sign taped to the window next to the front door, just as Fast-Forward said there would be; now Sam just had to go up the stairs and head inside.

Seattle, Washington State, United States Another Earth, 2nd May 2010, 15:30 PST Whilst Riff hadn’t been on this alternative Earth long he had already had a sense of things being different, right from the start when he’d met Headmistress Jasmine Summers on his arrival to this worlds Claremont. It had meant to be a simple visit delivering an item between Head’s, instead Rift had been drafted into helping them deal with a problem. Within the hour he been coerced into journeying to Seattle, it wasn’t clear if this world had a version of his team instead he had been bundled quickly off of the campus with a young woman he’d never met before. The young Hispanic woman had introduced herself as Malena Simmons, or as she said with a little pride Patriota. She was dressed in a black sleeveless jumpsuit cut off at the knees, which showed off her athletic physique, unadorned apart from a large white Star across her chest. Over the top of that she wore a short white jacket only barely more practical that the pouches that were now out of fashion. As they waited for the transport to arrive in the city she played with a ArchePod apparently setting up a playlist for there mission.

April 16th. It was a cool spring night, no rain, or much of anything else. Even in the Fens That was not much of a comfort to the guy on the ground. Bald, and looking like less a junkie hood, and more a professional in crime, he was still scrambling back, crablike, from the smaller, shadow shrouded, form that was walking towards him. Acting very unprofessional. The white of the hockey mask he wore was a stark from the grays and black he wore over the rest of himself. As he walked, he let the piece of rebar drag and rasp against the brick wall. "Don't reach for the gun. It wont stop me, and then I will be upset." His voice was level, in that deep monotone he had, but dull, dispassionate. His gait didn't stop, didn't change as he approached the man. "I want information and you have it. You will give it to me." There wasn't a hint of threat or menace, perhaps some implied from his efforts, but that was in. Then the piece of rebar was moved to aim at the hood, the point right between the man's eyes. "You... you're sick man! Sick! I've dealt with you masks before, this isn't how it is supposed to go!" The criminal lashed out with words, even as he cowered, and stared at the rebar. "I'm not sick Lawrence Hardy. I haven't done anything. You're the one who is afraid, it's your imaginings that are running wild and filling the empty spaces in your head. I've done nothing." Came that dry reasoning from behind the hockey mask. "I can't help you! You f***ing psycho! I'm sorry! Just leave me alone!" The masked man man seemed to stiffen a bit, "Lawrence, don't lie to me. You're not sorry." And then he lifted the rebar to strike the man. "Not yet."

GMLacandan Jungle Chiapas, Mexico Monday, June 1st, 2015 3:04 AM Six hours. It took Six Hours and onetime zones for Miracle Girl to fly Blodeuwedd into Mexico under the cover of night. And it would take another six hours to fly back. Casey was the only other student on campus who could cross the distance that the Welsh ninja could find despite it being so early in the morning. The senior was on a bit of a timeline as it were with the festivities later on in the day. But, when the Raven herself shows up in the middle of your dorm explaining there is a situation. Well, one didn't argue. The family of a pro Zapatista diplomat had been taken captive by mercenaries in an unknown location within the confines of the Lacandan Jungle. The diplomat was also being held captive. Supposedly, they wanted him to make a press conference filled. Or at least that's what the few people in government who had. The Raven presented Cerys with more information. The captors did not in fact political goals in mind. The Zapatistas had uncovered a Preserver artifact within a Mayan ruin and had chosen to hide it, deeming the artifact too dangerous and far too untrusting of the central government to hand it over to them for safe keeping. Only someone caught wind of the discovery. And they wanted the artifact badly enough to kill. An explosive situation that found Casey and Cerys in the middle of the jungle. Silently making a ground approach to try and find the mercenary camp site.

With a loud boom the woman crashed into the sidewalk scattering the few pedestrians making there way to and from work. She rose up from the impressive dent she’d made in the concret, apparently unconcerned with the damage she’d caused, and looked around at everything that was going on around her. “So this is the fabled Freedom City, I must say I’m not impressed.” She strode purposely to a rather bemused hot dog cart vendor who had obviously seen it all before. “What are you offering vendor?” The man whipped together a dog with a flourish of someone who’d done this kind of thing many times before. “Here try one of my famous dog, the best in the city.” The woman took the dog and took a single bite before her face darkened. “Are you trying to poison me with his horrendous processed meat?” Throwing the offending food away she lifted the man up by the neck apparently aiming to cause him harm.

Friday, May 1st, 4:32. One of the few pleasures of working hard was knowing that one was about to get off of work and be paid for that labor - and the laboring dock workers of Freedom City knew that well. Crates with goods going to every corner of the globe passed through to be distributed along the Eastern Seaboard and over the country, or vice versa. A task of Sisyphean proportions, as it seemed no matter how many shipping containers they loaded or unloaded, there was always another cargo ship coming into port, another few tons of cargo to be loaded. But hey; one man's impossible task was another man's job security. One worker clamboured out of a loading crane to wipe his brow, already thinking of the cold beer and quiet refuge he'd retreat to when his shift was over. "Harry! You asleep up there?" His supervisor laughed from below, pushing her hardhat up to peer up at him. "Whaddya mean?" The mildly offended worker complained, looking - as he so often did - vaguely confused. The supervisor gestured to a pair of shipping containers to her left. "We need to get that ship loaded up before five! You forgot two." She pointed out, her clipboard hanging from her waist. "Really, man?" "Th' heck I did, Stevens!" Harry complained, producing a shipping manifest from his back pocket as he climbed down. "Says here, boxes seven-three-ay-seven-twelve to seven-three-ay-seven-forty - neither'a those two are on the manifest. Dunno where they're from." Stevens frowned and peered at the manifest once Harry made it down, then at the two strange containers. "Weird. Where's this boat going, anyway?" "Pfah - England, somewhere?" Harry guessed. "Who gives a crap. Call up th' foreman an-" For a moment, Harry gaped - he was speaking, but there was no sound to be heard. Stevens quickly realized that the dock had fallen into an unearthly silence where it would normally be filled with a horrible racket in all directions. Nothing could be heard. Not the cry of a single gull, the waves, yelling from worker to worker. Stevens and Harry exchanged a confused look, before Harry began pointing frantically above the ship he'd been loading. Hovering several feet above the rows and rows of shipping containers was the vague outline of a man, a massive gout of flames indicating that a jetpack of some sort was keeping him in the air. "If you believe I'm allowing this filth to cross the ocean into my beloved England, you've another thing coming, young man!" The figure declared angrily, the crisp and disapproving voice of an English Gentleman cutting through the enforced silence of his anti-sonic grenades. In golden armor crossed with red and blue highlights, the Tranquility Tyrant set down upon terra firma, his heavy battle armor dispelling the silence he'd enforced. All of a sudden came back the roaring of industry and commerce, the startled exclamations of the workers and then, abruptly, the whirr of the Tyrant's massive cannon powered up. "Load these containers, ruffian, and be quick about it. The only suitable destination for this ship's foul cargo is the bottom of the sea." Harry gaped at the powerful-looking cannon leveled at him, then started scrambling back up into the crane in a panic to do as he'd been told - unaware that those containers contained only a bevy of powerful explosions, dedicated to destroying the cargo ship long before it would cross the ocean. Hopefully, somebody would arrive to see what all the ruckus was about.

Some AlleywaySouthside, Freedom City, New JerseyMonday, June 1st, 20151:04 AM GM In less than 24 hours, the Claremont class of 2015 would be walking across the stage. Normal high school seniors may have spent their last night without a diploma talking to their girlfriends. Throwing a rager with friends. Or even sleeping the night away. Tona had other plans. Blue Jay had been spotted throughout the night actively skulking the Southside moving from rooftop and preventing crimes as she saw them. At some point she ran into Samaritan, Vonnie who was taking full advantage of his Summer vacation, and the pair began an unofficial game of "who can catch the most criminals the fastest". Blue Jay was winning, but to Vonnie's credit the boy had no quit. In a night full of purse snatchers and muggings, when a woman gave a blood curdling scream it was easy to assume they were in store for more of the same. Chasing down the scream they found themselves in an alleyway. What they found was nothing short of horrific. The woman had an arrow struck through her eye. Signs of pressure from something small like a digit pushed against her neck. The corpse laying there. Silently contrasting what until just a few moments ago felt like a bustling night in the city.

A thread for Vicki and Eileen to get to know each other as new roommates. Taking place after 'Voice of the People', but before 'A Welcome Lunch. -= * * * =- It had been a long day, getting Vicki checked into the school, making sure her stuff had made it to the dorm room, getting her shown around a bit and introduced to a few of the students and faculty. Plus, y'know, some classes and stuff, which meant that Eileen had only been present for part of all of that. Now, however, after the sun had gone down and Vicki was no doubt tired and a little overwhelmed, it was just the two of them in the quiet of the dorm room. Eileen had only been there about two days by this point, but she'd already gotten her stuff unpacked and the beginnings of some personal touches on the room. She'd chosen the right side of the room, and had an old desktop computer set up on the desk, a picture of a woman and an older girl on the dresser beside that of a middle-aged man, and a poster of...Back to the Future on the wall? "So...you need any help unpacking or anything?" Eileen asked of her new roommate, sitting cross-legged atop her bed and regarding the other girl curiously.

A hand dropped, two men screamed at each other, and they came together, limbs blurring as they struck and blocked and parried and countered. It was an amazing display of physicality, martial prowess, and controlled fury. Controlled, because when the man in the blue robe stuck the flat of his hand into the neck of the man in the orange robe, they both froze. The referee shouted, the men separated and bowed, and a few of the more knowledgeable spectators applauded. Tona Baudin was one of them. She had been especially interested in the arm-lock the tai chi master had attempted, and the way the snake-style specialist had slipped out of it almost bonelessly. Her eyes glittered in anticipation as she looked at the next few fights coming up on the docket. She hadn't even know this martial arts tournament existed a month ago, until her friend Mali mentioned that she was going to watch. In just a couple of weeks though, the young archer had become obsessed with the idea. A place where she could see all sorts of fighting styles on display, measured against each other? It was a thrilling notion to her, and she had waited impatiently for it. Tona wasn't happy that she was restricted to sitting in the bleachers, but registration had closed months ago. She had eventually, reluctantly, agreed that her own style was too wilde and improvisational to be judged in formal competition, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy what she was seeing.This was her Super Bowl, her World Cup, her PAX, all rolled into on, and Tona was determined to take in as much as she could.

(GM) The Glencairn, a 100,000 metric ton freighter labored in the rough seas just outside of Freedom City. It had been a rough crossing and Captain Eric Mathers was going to be happy to make port and give the crew a day or three leave to compensate their near steady state of vigilance. He'd been making the run from Amsterdam to Freedom City for nearly a decade and he couldn't remember a series of storms like the one's they'd been cursed to slog through. He had seen the string of spring storms and had guessed it was going to be a rocky go, but not quite like this. Normally, the Glencairn made the journey in seven days, but they were already two days late and the crew was getting jittery. He could practically feel the tension on the bridge as they bore in on the US coast. "Right two degrees, let's get in that shipping lane nice and easy Mr. Jones," he said as they made the last of their corrections to bring them to the channel leading then to the docks. "Yes sir," Jones, his pilot responded, making the subtle change. Captain Mathers shook his head and sighed, taking as sip from his cold coffee, "Jones, land is going to be a sweet thing to see..." "I'll drink to that," Jones replied looking down at the console, "just another 20 miles or so and we'll enter the harbor."

The Scarab soared through the sky over downtown Freedom City like a bullet, her massive scarlet cape rippling behind her like a flag. She was hidden under a cloak of psychic invisibility, a command to ignore and forget her presence that only the strongest minds could resist, but a red blur would show up later on security cameras and in the backgrounds of selfies (and then soon after on social networking and microblogging feeds). Today, her target was a simple tech lab in the North End, Hallomen Advanced Experts. She floated down to the ground and walked up to the door, which opened with a thought (or, to any observers, of its own accord). Her cape continued to billow behind her, as though she were still shooting through the sky. The crimson-clad hero floated up to the reception desk. The receptionist heard a hundred voices speaking in unison inside her mind. Her cape lifted to momentarily reveal an armored suitcase floating in the air beside her. This is a matter of life and death which requires the ultimate in technological expertise.

The Giza Brewpub & Theatre's online crowdfunding campaign had been a massive success, and the subsequent renovations had managed to upgrade the picture quality and kitchen facilities without sacrificing the old-school charm of the interior facades. There was only one screen, but it was massive, and between the floor seating and the balcony level, there were over a thousand seats, all sold out days ago. Tonight's grand re-opening was a student-organized fundraiser for Joseph Clark High. Locals from Lincoln and Southside rubbed elbows with the hipsters commuting across the South River, all eager for the double feature: A newly-restored print of the genre-redefining horror classic Dead Moon Rising, followed the premiere of the recent remake. Ten percent of every ticket sold for tonight was going to the school. Of all the teachers at Joseph clark, Mister LaMarr had been the obvious choice to be "volunteered" to attend and keep an eye on things. If nothing else, his presence would help to placate the busybodies on the PTA worried about the possibility of underage drinking.

The vision hit Erick Sloane like a runaway truck. The vision which hit Erick Sloane was a runaway truck. An armored car crashed right into him. It couldn't have been him, because the car smashed into him and crumpled around him like he was a stone pillar or a steel lamppost. The impact had lifted the back tires into the air, and they didn't have time to fall back down to the street before whatever the car crashed into lifted or pushed it up and over, to land upside-down onto the street behind it. Erick blinked his eyes, and saw the uniformed drivers lying on the ground, convulsing like marionette puppets as dozens if not hundreds of bullets shredded their torsos. Their kevlar vests weren't built to take so many direct hits at such close range all at once. Blood mingled with engine oil before soaking into the asphalt. In the background, as the vision faded away, Erick could just barely make out the reflection of the cheque-cashing shop's sign in the spiderwebbed remains of the armored car's window. He recognized the place. It was across the street from a decent taqueria.

April 20, 2015 It wasn't that Kimber didn't think Eve would have agreed to fly them all out to Thunder Bay if the poltergeist's hometown hadn't also been where their fearless leader had met her girlfriend but it had certainly made pitching the trip easier. She had an errand to run in the woods outside of the city and while she could have probably performed it alone she had little desire to do so. Accepting that she had died and everything that came with it was one thing, actually visiting the resting place of her corporeal remains was something else entirely. The harder sell had been getting Tarva included in the outing. The trick wasn't so much convincing Eve - the Martel heiress wouldn't have let the sorceress work for her in the first place if she hadn't believed Tarva was worth taking a chance upon - as it was negotiating the paperwork involved in transporting an Annihilist defector across national borders. Ultimately while the Freedom League may have had their politely unspoken doubts about just what Eve and her Claremont classmates had done to earn the Furion's regard they couldn't argue that that regard existed and that made her more or less the de facto authority. If she said they'd keep an eye on Tarva in Canada, then an eye would be kept. The flight, meanwhile, gave Kimber an opportunity for a conversation she'd admittedly put off for too long. Floating over to Indira in the spacious cabin, she folded her translucent legs beneath her and cupped her chin in her hands. "Hey, so, I know I've been kinda acting weird since we got back in space. S'okay if we talk?"

GM Medical Examiner's Office London Borough of Hackney, Greater London, England Wednesday, April, 1st, 2015 4:15 PM There was an old expression. "Why does the Regents Canal run through Hackney? To avoid getting shot." Known as one of the most crime-ridden areas of London, Hackney's reputation was not entirely ill earned. Drug dens and shootings weren't entirely uncommon. Arsons were for their part far rarer outside of riots. After the fifth in a recurring series of fires resulted in the death of four people in the borough, the London Fire Brigade reached out to the Ministry of Powers for assistance. Sending Foreshadow and Ulysses as representatives of Vanguard to the local medical examiner's office. The building was clearly understaffed with dated technology. The ME in charge of the case, Dr Benjamin Martins, a balding man in his mid forties. His face showing signs of aging in a rough stress filled career. His assistants were actually a set of twin women in their mid twenties. Red haired with Scottish accents they were hard at work sterilizing the equipment. "This body is a most curious affair." Medina Family Manor Bristol, England Wednesday, April, 1st, 2015 6:00 PM About three hours away (four taking into account London traffic) in reputable bristol were Dee Farrington and Agnus Stone. The Ministry of Powers had received word that the Medina Family, a prominent Spanish family who earned their fortune through cattle ranching, had smuggled computronium through the black market. As they couldn't just outright accuse a reputable family of explicit dealings. A matter of tact was needed. Using Dee's familial connections the pair was able to swing invitations to a big bash the Medinas were throwing in their Bristol manor. Currently sitting in the back of a limo making its way to the steps of the estate. Dee an Agnus were moments from making their grand entrance. Their driver was the only backup that the ministry could afford to provide the ladies. Not that they needed any. Adrian Jobert, a former UNISON agent. He was a muscular black man of French descent. Possibly from Guadaloupe, they weren't sure. in fact Dee and Agnus had seen him around the Ministry once or twice, but their familiarity with the man was limited at best. However, with the ongoing restructuring it meant that the dame afforded him a level of trust. "Mademoiselle Farrington et Mademoiselle Stone. The Ministry has seen fit to outfit the vehicle with all the amenities. The ear bud communicators are of limited range, but if you need my assistance simply ring."

Monday, April 13, 2015 10:30 AM Earth It was a Monday morning when Erin made it back to Earth, nearly six full weeks after she'd taken off for her first space adventure since her Curator-enforced vacation. She blasted in out of a clear blue sky, her life-support suit holding in both her oxygen supply and her wildly triumphant shout as she and Redbird made their re-entry at white-hot speeds. As soon as they dropped enough altitude for there to be atmosphere, she pulled off her helmet and drew in a deep lungful of air. "God, it's so good to be home!" she crowed. "Space is nuts. Let's leave it to the aliens for awhile," she suggested to her AI companion as they arced towards the familiar skyline of Freedom City. She was half-tempted to dive off the motorcycle at twenty-thousand feet and splash down in the Great Bay, wash away the grime of a month and a half without a proper water bath. Sonic cleaners did an adequate job of keeping dirt and smell at bay, but she never truly felt clean after using one. That would wait, though. Instead, she steered the motorcycle northward, towards home. "I guess maybe we should've called ahead," she decided. "He'll probably be in school at this hour. But that just means we can surprise him when he gets back." In just a few minutes they were touching down on the smooth paved roundabout in front of Hunter Manor, which was currently picturesque with a full spread of carefully tended flowerbeds and green lawn. Erin took another moment to enjoy solid Earth beneath her feet, then vaulted the front steps to go in the front door. "Hello, I'm home!"

Silberman’s Book’s It wasn’t unusual to see strange people in Freedom City, to a certain extent it was expected, but there was still times and places when strangely dressed people could still surprise. Such a person was boldly walking into Silberman’s books. She wasn’t particularly tall but tottering on heels she towered over most people in the store dressed in what costume shops would call Sex Librarian. Her hair was tied up into pig tails high of her head mostly blonde except for the tips that were the same tweed color as her jacket. She was also nonculatly chewing on bubble gum and occasionally blowing bubbles. Showing no interest in the books around her she went straight for the counter speaking to whoever was tending the till in a broad New Jersey accent. “Hi there I need to talk with you boss about something really important.â€