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March 1, 2016 "Do you do non-humans?" The voice on the shop's phone was like none Rae had heard before - a booming croak that nonetheless was clearly speaking words. "For tattoos." - Outside, Aquaria was largely concealed beneath a gigantic hoodie and sweatpants, ducked low behind Jessie as she spoke into the latter's phone (a replacement they'd gotten upon their return to Terra), just a few doors down from the place that did inking - the tattoo parlor in English. They'd looked the place up on Jessie's computer, but if there was anything they'd learned from their trip to space, you couldn't be too careful! It was late in Riverside, the streets beginning to darken as late afternoon began to shed into evening, and the streets mostly empty in the wake of the hard rain that afternoon. Which made it perfect.
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En Route to Star Island Lonely Point, Freedom City, New JerseyFriday March 4th, 2015 The Star Island Space Control Center was known for its cooperation with the Freedom League and the Lonely Island Naval Base. What was less spoken of was the close relationship between AEGIS and the facility. The frequent number of alien attacks prompted Director Powers into commissioning a black project with the assistance of the SCC some weeks ago. Since then three AEGIS/SCC scientist have gone missing during the course of the project. Stewart Bonham has personally seen fit to explore these strange disappearances. Knowing full well the very public figure couldn't comb through the facility without alerting a possible perpetrator that AEGIS was on to any wrongdoing, he saw fit to ask Argonaut to accompany him posing as "personal security" for the Chief AEGIS Administrator of Freedom City. Titan was brought using the cover of being the US military liason to AEGIS just keeping an eye on Bonham as he took a civil tour of the facility. Stewart Bonham was dressed in his AEGIS blues. A half glass of wine cupped closely. The three were traveling on the director's personal yacht. An AEGIS agent at the helm of the wheel. Leaving the three undisturbed in the dining area below to talk business before docking on Star Island. "Your predecessor. Major Chulpak wouldn't have liked the subterfuge. She'd prefer for me to make this an officially sanctioned investigation. Pour on the heat. Director Powers hardly agreed with her on anything, but they respected one another. As the current US military liason to AEGIS here, how would you handle this situation?"
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February 2016 Late evening It was not too late for a pregnant woman to be outside with an ice monster. Or so Dimitri was sure. "<That's his apartment!>" Dimitri was declaring from inside the frosted-over windows of his Freedom League Ford Escort, pointing up at the third floor window of the small apartment block. "<He just walks around in there with Henry Griffin's face! It's awful! Goddamned Americans.>" He parked the car, carefully, mindful of America's bizarre mirror-image streets. "<I told him we're coming. I think you can get more out of him about his origins than I can - he's a trusting sort, but you know how I can be...>" - Klara had gotten the message by telephone, or rather on her cell's voice mail, - Dimitri Peshkov wanted to meet her in Kingston to discuss old times at a certain third floor apartment.
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Friday February 19, 2016 Riverside, Freedom City The Black Box "Can't believe I let you drag me along to this thing," Sam grumbled. "I should be getting overtime for this." It wasn't as though Sam had never gone out to a nightclub for a night of alcohol and bad music before. She'd been a teenager. She'd snuck out to party with her quote-unquote friends at least...hell, more times than she could clearly remember. The alcohol probably had sometime to do with that. But she was an adult now, with real responsibilities, and alcohol now affected her no more than orange juice did. She'd generally found that bad music was even worse when you had to listen to it sober. Now when she looked around at her surroundings, at the pulsing lights, the gyrating dancers, the deafening noise, all she saw was a bunch of drunken college students sexing each other up and acting like hormonal idiots. Christ, when did I get so old. She leaned over to shout in Gretchen's ear, the only way to make herself heard above the din. "Are we sure this isn't a prank? Some Internet jackass just thought it would be a kick to post on your site about a bunch people disappearing from this 'Black Box' club, and watch us waste our time?" She took a sip of her fruit juice, hardly tasting it due to her irritation. "You'd think that if people really were getting snatched from here, the cops would have noticed by now." Assuming the cops aren't a gaggle of incompetent glorified security guards, which, since I'm being all positive-outlook these days, they aren't. "I wouldn't mind getting out of here before the band comes on and blows my eardrums out." A tall, muscular man in a tight T-shirt sauntered cockily up and leaned against the bar next to Sam, glancing her up and down in a none-too-subtle fashion. Without so much as looking, Sam dissuaded him with a raised middle finger before he could even open his mouth. Taking the hint, he pushed away from the bar and sauntered cockily away back the way he'd come. Sam continued as though nothing had happened. "You'd think they could at least include a little more info. For chrissakes, at least the names of whoever's missing. 'People disappearing from Black Box, watch out for the band' isn't a whole lot to go on."
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Huang bounced from one room to the next in the spacious mansion. Ever since the party he'd been confined to quarters, totally unfair of course, they came home early, it totally was going great before that. He slumped into an overstuffed wingback chair older than any of the corporeal residents of the home by at east half a century with a dramatic sigh. "Who am I kidding it was a disaster." he said to no one in particular startling a nearby ghost as she dusted the mantle, "What was that young master Faretti?" "Hmm, oh nothing Prudence." he said absently and dismissed her with a wave as he toyed with the spine of yet another ancient tome he'd never be allowed to master. Cracking the heavy leather folio open he began to study the contents once more, if only they could see him as he was and not as the five year old they knew, perhaps, but no after the debacle of his glamoured older self ritual magics were verboten. And when ones mother was arguably the most potent mage on the plane, or several others for that matter, that kind of prohibition tended to stick. He continued to read up on the dense material, High Magics of the seventh sphere. One things the hermetics had going for them. You could go though the motions without an ounce of power and not risk accidentally opening a portal through time and space to some nether realm.
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Date: 2/18/16 Talya was down in the dojo, neither teaching nor working out. No, today was more of a maintenance day - ensuring that everything was in working order, taking inventory, and all the so-very-dull minutiae that kept the business running. Ostensibly, Talya was down in the dojo to help but the ex-theif was really as much hindrance as she was aid. Boredom was not something the immortal handled well and she was certainly not above trying to distract Erik into more entertaining endeavors. At the moment, though, Talya was vaguely on task as she was double checking to make sure that the rings she'd set into the ceiling months ago were still holding up after the use they'd seen in class. Since there were no classes at the moment, she'd discarded the extra layers that were doing less and less to conceal her pregnancy to scale the rope with a power drill in one hand to tighten the bolts, with the rope caught between her knees. "I shall never complain about teaching classes again," Talya commented, which was most likely entirely false. Oh, she liked teaching but every now and again, everyone had a day where the last thing they wanted to do was crawl out of bed in the morning.
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Outside Silberman's Books. January 15th, 2016. 10:05 pm Two young women waited on the stoop In front of the West End's most unusual bookstore, one effortlessly balanced on one foot and juggling five tennis balls, the other pacing up and down to keep warm. The juggler was Lynn Epstein, also known as Grimalkin, currently wearing jeans, a suede jacket and a black Stenson. The colder of the two was Gretchen McDaniels, who sometimes went by Shrike, and clearly her jeans, FreeSA hoodie and black leather jacket were not cutting it. Finally Gretchen stopped in front of her boss and scowled. "I demand coffee." The changeling smiled and shook her head, her eyes never leaving the task at hand. "Sorry, I'm all out; besides, it's not even that cold out." "You always have coffee." Gretch began poking around in Lynn's jacket pockets like a puppy looking for a treat. "It's just a matter of finding...where you hid it on your person." "Hey, knock it off, I can't-" She didn't actually fall over; Lynn was too freakishly graceful for that. But she did lose control of her tennis balls, which went bouncing down the steps and rolling down the sidewalk. "Great; thanks a lot, Gretch." "Cof-feee." The fae threw up her hands in exasperation. "Fine!" After making sure no other pedestrians were nearby, she reached into her jacket, traced a small circle with her finger, and drew forth a large Thermos that was clearly too big to have fit inside. Gretchen eagerly took the Thermos, poured herself a cup of rich black coffee, and smiled like the little brat she was currently being. "Thanks, boss. Lynn merely shook her head and grunted, keeping her eyes peeled for the newest member of the Silberman's family.
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14 February 2016, 9:00 AM Bishop Hall, Ottawa, Canada It was an early Sunday morning and outside Bishop Hall, the public facing headquarters of the Canadian superteam True North, the usual collection of reporters and photographers were already present. The general expectation was that it would be a slow news day though some press veterans knew the holidays always held that slight chance of weird. "Pardon," came a soft French-accented soprano. The owner of that voice was a short costumed woman wearing a mask and hood, a knapsack slung over one shoulder. Instinctively the press corps moved out of La Renarde Bleue's way as she approached the building ahead.
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GM post Sunday, February 28th 2016 10:30 AM Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship, Private Apartments "It is still early for a Sunday Ma'am." the personal assistant suggested quietly, the protest fell however on deaf ears. "Marjorie, If this was not time sensitive I wouldn't be bothering the poor woman." came the reply clipped but not cold, "Besides they have children and I have raised enough of those to know late mornings are likely the least of their concerns." She added a bit more warmly, "Make the call please." Thus on the crisp february morning the phone in the apartment housing the ever growing Espadas family began to ring. The number was blocked, and at a very high level though expertise such as the household AI like as not could break it in short order and reveal the call as originating from Danger Internationals sprawling Hannover Campus. When the phone was answered Marjorie spoke in a bright and clear tone, "Good morning, I'm trying to reach a Ms. Rebecka Danvers." she requested politely, "Is she available?"
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Saturday, February 6th, 2016 An email appeared in Robin's school inbox earlier that week.
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Freedom City Credit Union, Wading Way Branch 11:00 AM, 1st February 2016 The day started off innocently enough for the cozy FCCU branch. The clerks were looking forward to their respective lunch breaks when a pair of unmarked black vans pulled up. Before anyone even took particular notice, eight men armed with black masks and assault rifles barged in. Four of them began shouting for clerks and patrons alike to get on the ground, two began making their way to the vault, and two got to work systematically shooting out security cameras. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. The clerks couldn't even manage to pull the alarm before being stopped at gunpoint...
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GM February 12th, Friday, 2016 Summit Transnational building, meeting room 5, floor 10, Wading Way, Freedom City As far as company reps went, the people sent by ailing power and research firm Redshift Energy of Washington weren't much to inspire confidence. Mostly either noticeably young new blood still uncomfortable in their stiff shirts, or old company men who had the tired, rumpled look of somebody going through the motions until retirement, they filled the meeting room with a nervous atmosphere. Meanwhile, quite at his ease, a African-American man in his late twenties had already taken his seat and was quickly reading over a briefcase full of papers crammed with atomic formulae. One of his associates had to quickly nudge him in the shoulder to alert him the entrance of their host at Summit Transnational, Amir ibn Jafar ibn Abd al-Aziz al-Misri. With a hurried, apologetic and distracted smile, the man stood up and joined the other reps. An older man stepped up, offering his pale, soft hand to the imposing philanthropist. "Er, Michael Monday, Mr. Misri, of Redshift Energy. Glad you could meet us, it's a wonderful opportunity for both of our companies." All the Redshift people tried to look like they agreed, the young man with the briefcase looking entirely, naturally confident in contrast. Outside, the city was frosted with snow and clinging ice, but in the conference room the pale sunlight mingled with the warm florescents to cast a strangely tranquil TV-like colour over the walls and long table. Very thoughtfully, someone had put coffee and pastries around, so everyone could be even more jittery than they already were.
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Equivalent to October, 2015, in Terran cycles. Outpost P-32, Ledas System, on Ledas 4. This place was a frigid waste. Not that they would go out among the ammonia shoals among the dark skies, and ever present snows. It was toxic to most, and even if it wasn't it was way, way too cold to be there. Still this place had minerals that were useful, and it was a good place to hole up a research station. The outpost was nice, or nicer than the places they frequented, and there was enough facilities for them to take care of things, little repairs and such that built up. Plus a couple nice watering holes, including some places that Roulette could duck off to, to place some games, and swindle some people. Bliss hated the cold. Her homeworld was far more warm, though while she wasn't mammalian, she was assuredly endothermic. So that accounted for something. Still, she was the strongest of the Runners, and so she relented to leaving her room and helping Ruby get supplies. Plus, sometimes they got discounts if she was glaring. When in her enviro suit she looked a bit more intimidating. Which they were benefiting from, with the Xuli'pan was off to the side, waiting while Ruby did... something... She didn't know. They were in one of the trader stations here in the outpost. With their crates of the supplies that would be here, the rest would be delivered after they got back to the station. Bliss was propped against the wall, staring through one of the porthole style windows that aimed towards the main concourse of the outpost.
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Friday January 22, 2016 Greenbank, Freedom City Nighttime It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an off-duty superhero in search of pizza will inevitably encounter something that renders the acquisition of pizza highly unlikely. Buffy Stein had just run out to grab a quick slice from the pizza joint around the corner, wanting a little fuel to get her through her late-night cramming session. She had even had her hand on the door when she overheard the police scanner in a nearby parked patrol car. Apparently something had triggered the silent alarm at a warehouse over in Greenbank. That wasn't exactly enough to make the cops peel out, sirens blaring, so why should she, innocent civilian, bestir herself? Surely no one would expect her to abandon her pizza, abort her studying, don her costume, and sprint clear across the city just because some raccoon accidentally tripped an alarm or something, right? This was what Echo was bitterly reflecting on as the crouched there on the edge of the rooftop in the freezing cold, staring gloomily at the shadowy bulk of the warehouse across the street. Sometimes, it just wasn't fun being a superhero. She was going to have to make some modifications to her costume, that was for sure. Heroes of the super variety weren't exactly renowned for their subtlety, but she couldn't help feeling conspicuous there in her blue-and-silver bodysuit. Those colors didn't exactly fade into the darkness as well as one might hope. Not to mention, she needed to install some thermal padding, or get some new long underwear or something. If didn't wrap this up quickly, all they would ever find of her would be a big Echo-shaped popsicle. And all because of a false alarm at some random warehouse. You didn't get a statue for that. Huh. She noticed something that made her perk up slightly. The warehouse was enclosed by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire, presumably to keep the contents from escaping. Thing was, she was pretty sure the gate was supposed to be closed. With a whumph of displaced air, she was gone from the rooftop, now standing beside the open gate. The chain that ordinarily held the gates shut was lying on the ground. Kneeling down to examine it, she saw that it had been cut. Maybe the night watchman forgot his keys. And remembered his bolt cutters. Looking up, she saw an white van parked inside the fence. She had ignored it before, but now she saw that the plates had been removed and the engine was running. And one of the nearby doors that led into the warehouse looked to have been forced open. Well, hey. This might not be a waste of time after all.
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AEON Institute, Downtown Freedom 10:30 AM February 3rd 2016 Though the late January blizzard had for a time dampened the fervor of the ongoing 'Humans First' protests outside the Aeon Institute with the city emerging from it's blanket of snow they had returned with renewed spite for all the institute and it's 'Terminus Spawn' CEO. AEON security maintained a safety corridor for those seeking AEONs services but beyond the barricades the protesters had grown ten deep chanting and waving their signs proclaiming humanities preeminence over the earth and unkind variations on 'Go Home Freaks!' and worse. Pictures of the mangled bodies from the last Terminus Invasion as well as some few victims of recent super violence often attributed to those afflicted with Terminus Energy Mutation Syndrome were shaken in the faces of executive and frightened petitioner alike while slurs and occasional threats were lobbed at those making their way to the main entrance of the Institute. Thus far violence had been avoided thanks in large part to the restraint of the well trained security team deployed along the barricade and the help of the FCPD who were quick to remove any protesters who crossed the line from peaceful protest. None the less the air was electric with the tension and for those with insight into such things it was clear the situation was unsustainable without something snapping soon. The young group from Claremont made their way to the cordon where a security agent and a well bundled receptionist took down their names before beginning to escort them down the gauntlet of hateful people and their signs. The youth of these particular petitioners it seemed inflamed the protesting crowd yet further with the screams of "Freak!", "Devil Spawn!", and worse rising over the general din as the protesters pressed angrily against the barrier despite the nearby securities warnings to back away.
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Date: January 25, 2016 It wasn't until after winter break that Raina could round up a small cluster of fellow students to come along to extra curricular training. On the bright side, it meant she'd had several weeks of one on one classes to be confident with both the workings of the school and the general format of the training. Always nice to be the expert in the group, after all. With a large enough group, Claremont sent the teenagers to their extra credit activity in one of the few vans for such purposes rather than letting the students make their own way. The unmarked school van pulled up to let the students unload directly in front of a well kept building in the middle of the West End. A sign proclaimed 'The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!' (Exclamation mark included), and through the front doors was a small lobby and receptionist desk before the dojo itself. As they had forewarning that there was going to be more than just the one student, Talya had come down early to straighten things in the lobby and keep an eye out just in case the school van had trouble finding a good drop off point. Rather than standing behind the desk, the attractive blonde was perched on top of it, seated on the surface as she sorted through papers. Lately, Talya had taken to wearing a loose cut tanktop over her formfitting practice wear and today was no different. As the students disembarked she shifted the paperwork to one side to welcome the knot of teenagers. "Come on in and pick a cubby for your shoes and anything else you want to put away," Talya invited in a clipped, British accent. She flashed Raina a smile as the young woman stepped in, "Hullo, Raina." She added before raising her voice slightly, "Erik, the students are here."
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Fourth of March, 2016, The Gateway, Goodman Building, Freedom City On its dais in the middle of the stark, open room, the circular Gate pulsed and rippled from the distortion of energy from an open channel to another world. For once, the Gateway was crowded, both with people and luggage, crates and moving equipment, Tesla and Maximus at their control stations the only people with much room to maneuver. Chase and Victoria were mingling with the swell of twenty-odd chatting, nervous scientists wearing A.S.T.R.O. Labs insignia on their jackets and hats, while Cosmo was darting about the room in excitement. The Moon Monkey had to get his hands on anything and everything new or strange, which with a crowd of strangers really was anything. His gleeful shrieking and intrusively curious hands sometimes got him a stern psychic warning, and by now he was much less hyperactive than a quarter of an hour ago. After the media circus outside, it was a pleasant and calming change of pace. The news that the famously secretive Atom Family and endlessly innovative Lab were making a joint ventire into a mysterious new universe had hardly been enough for the news agents and shouting reporters, but the fact that three superheroes were joining them, along with Freedom Cross biologist Tristan Delacroix and journalist Daphne Celeste, had packed the street outside the Goodman Building as fans and well-wishers screamed over each other to their idols. More cynical heads had shouted accusingly that the list of supers was blatantly calculated for news-worthiness rather than "true" value to the expedition. Where, for example, was Daedalus? Dragonfly? Miss Americana or any of the other technically-able or routine dimensional travelers? That had been the point. "People are easily frightened by the unknown, by choosing you" Chase had gestured simply to Terrifica, Velocity and Valerie Cain "we disassociate this expedition with the ideas people have that everywhere we go, there are our enemies." The Gateway glared with red light. It would soon be ready for passage into the Infraverse. For the moment, there was little to do.
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January 22nd, 2016 Freedom City, New Jersey Midday It could have been a frog, if. It had the right body shape, all bulging belly and eyes and weirdly spindly legs. It hopped with the same quick, spastic, energetic movements. Its skin had the same wet, shiny look to it. Its tongue was wet and pink and long, slapping out and grabbing at prey and dragging them toward its open, stinking max. It could have been a frog, if it hadn’t been five feet tall. If it hadn’t been heavy enough to crack the pavement where it landed. If it hadn’t been redolent of decay and pestilence and rot and stink. If it hadn’t been black and green and ridged with what looked like rock but smoked like lava. If it hadn’t been slowly advancing on the woman with her trio of yappy dogs. Its tongue shot out like a whip and snared the smallest of them, wrapping around the puppy’s head and slowly, inexorably dragging the animal back to its mouth. It could have been a frog, if it wasn’t ready to swallow the woman whole.
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One advantage to living in a former industrial zone was that Miras knew plenty of buildings that no one cared about. Her magic had made it child’s play to get inside, and she had spread around a few pillows and unfolded cardboard boxes; she couldn’t afford to buy any amount of gym mats, so this would have to suffice. The hardest part of everything had actually been getting word out to Kingsnake that she was ready for their session. The man had been infuriating when they were forced together by mercenaries and key witnesses and runaway trains. Kingsnake was skilled at fighting, but his methods had left a lot to be desired. Miras couldn’t just let him walk away, so she decided to give him a talk about how to handle a fight like that. In the meantime, though, she could probably stand to learn a thing or two from Kingsnake. Being able to move faster than an eyeblink handled a lot of problems but eventually she needed to know how to hit someone properly. Miras’s normal robes were hardly suited for a fistfight, so she had reconfigured her usual outfit into something more bare; a hooded green jacket that reached to her waist, loose white trousers and black boots and gloves. She paced around the room, bounding from one foot to the other as she waited for Kingsnake. Part of her was regretting setting this whole situation up. Who was she to lecture this other hero how to fight? Sure, he liked being scary, but so did Raven and Foreshadow and Arrowhawk -- and those were all heroes. On the other hand, she kept coming back to the memory of him letting the plane crash with the paralyzed soldier in it. He had been willing to let that vehicle go down with the mercenary in it, and only Miras’s quick thinking had saved the man. As she tried to use that memory to motivate her, a small voice kept reminding her that the soldier wouldn’t have been paralyzed if it hadn’t been for Miras’s magics...
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3.25AM, January 27th, Wednesday, 2016 Matheston House, 428 Kurtzberg Rd., Freedom City, U.S.A., the border of life and Hell. Her fingers shivering, Faye felt the knife slip through them, heard it clatter and clang on the tiled floor of the cavernous manor house. The steady beat of rain on the roof and the whistle of wind through the window that had shattered from his wild punch was all so much white noise. What had her frozen in place was the sight of her fianceé lying facedown in a slowly growing pool of blood gone black in the stark twilight. Sinking down, clutching her knees to her chest, Faye ignored the bloody smears she was leaving on her party clothes. She couldn't seem to shut her eyes or look away, no matter how much she wanted to. She wanted to cry, scream, stab herself, call the police, run for help, hug Matthias' body and beg its forgiveness. Torn in so many different directions, Faye remained where she was, dry-eyed and silent. How had this happened? Only last month they'd been so happy, Matty had come for Christmas and her parents had swallowed every hateful word they'd said about him. When had he started drinking, refusing to talk except to accuse her of things she couldn't have done, trying to control her every move and... ...why had he tried to kill her? "Wasn't a reason" she mumbled, starting a little at the croak of her voice "guess this is just how he really was, all along. Should have seen this, god help me...this is all my fault..." Self-recrimination had one benefit: it made crying easier. Watching from the stairway above the sobbing woman and the dying man, the demon Chorus sighed in relief and opened the Way of her kin. Unfurling black wings that would have spanned universes if they were pinions and muscle, she darted across the shadowy physical plane to where a tattooed man was sleeping. She slid down through the roof like it was so much vapour, which to her higher form it might as well have been. Kneeling beside the sleeping man she whispered into his ear "Ray, awaken. A sinner is in need."
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Silberman's Books. Friday, January 15th, 2016, 11:15 am. Lynn Epstein was not a fan of the sort of 'roller coaster' winter they were having this year; true, her fae physiology meant extreme temperature variations didn't bother her as much, but they were still irritating, and more importantly very hard on her mortal staff. Her assistant manager Kiki was home fighting a nasty bug, and Maddy's apartment had become a modern-day plague house, with her, her partner and child all sick and bedbound. So this Friday morning saw the store manned by all of three people in their brown Silberman's aprons: Lynn, her ever-reliable assistant and battle buddy Gretchen, and the indomitable Lance, barista extraordinaire. Many of the patrons were shuffling about and coughing, holding wads of tissue and/or wearing disposable face masks, giving the place a somewhat dismal air. But the store itself looked much the same: a combined front counter and espresso bar, several small tables and chairs for patrons, tidy bookshelves crammed with books, and walls covered with old movie stills and posters from the Golden Age of Magic, depicting such luminaries as Houdini, Blackstone, Thurston, Carter and of course the store's founder, the Amazing Al-Kazar. The morning rush was finally drawing to a close, giving Gretchen a chance to catch her breath and fix herself a quick espresso shot as she surveyed the store; today, she wore a green flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black jeans and her favorite Doc Martin's. She had several of her favorite piercings in her ears, and her arm tats were clearly visible. Beside her, Lance wore classic reprint Star Wars t-shirt, jeans and a black bandana covered with tiny skulls on his head. The overall feeling of crappy winter and illness put Gretchen in a darkly humorous mood, and she sent a whimsical sending to Lynn out on the floor via the magic ring on her left hand. -"Bring out your dead!"- -Tell me about it! I keep expecting one of those skeletons from a Hieronymus Bosch painting to show up.- For her part, the attractive store owner wore a sand-colored Irish fisherman's sweater, comfy jeans and light hiking boots; being immune to illness herself, she took the lead on the sales floor, greeting patrons and offering suggestions.
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Freedom City, New Jersey, United States Wednesday, January 6th, 2016 Midmorning A neon green bolt sped through the center of Freedom City with a tail of red and blue lights stretching behind it for a solid block. As it turned the corner with a squeal of tires, Blue Jay swung into an alley on a blue-white grapnel. She was moving fast, fast enough that the buildings were a blur around her, fast enough that one grapnel shot took her entirely through the alley, and when she shot out the other end she was just in time to see the car chase shoot past her. The archer swung around and landed on a convenient rooftop. She watched the tiny neon car with the green running lights flash past her, easily staying out of the reach of the police cars that were chasing it. Unfortunately, that same speed and agility kept it out of Blue Jay’s reach. She watched the chase move away from her, breathing through parted teeth. She’d never catch up with the car with her own speed; she’d have to get smarter to stop the reckless driver. Jay reached up and tapped the commlink in her ear, sending out a signal. “Blodeuwedd. Do you see where the car is headed?”
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Although Talya's reputation might give the impression that all her New Year's Eves were spent at fabulous parties or madcap adventure, the fact of the matter was she'd had plenty of quiet New Years as well. There were certainly enough years where time's steady march onwards had not been a matter to celebrate. Still, in all of the New Years that she had celebrated, loud or quiet, Talya had certainly never fallen asleep a good half an hour before the overly-hyped television special had even begun it's crescendo. Yet sleeping was just what the blonde was doing, rather uncomfortably in her position as human barrier. Sometime between when Min and Erik had stepped out, the former to bathe Eden and the latter to produce snacks, Talya had curled up on the floor to keep Mia from getting past her and was now serving as an even better handhold for cruising than the couch had provided. How Talya continued to sleep through the chubby - and potentially sticky - baby hands yanking on her side was anyone's best guess. Normally, the ex-thief slept relatively lightly. Today, though, Mia's hand catching in her hair earned only a sleepy snort as Talya shifted, one arm encircling Mia absently.
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Jan 6, 2016. Freedom City. Lincoln. Corner of 24th and K. 2:15 AM. This building used to be a hotel, years ago. It’d been refurbished into low income apartments in the 80s. Since then it had changed hands a few times, as each owner either gradually realized it was a big money loser or just went bankrupt. The last owner couldn’t afford to make any improvements, and the one before didn’t care enough to bother. It wasn’t condemned, but it was closed by the city health department. Currently it was empty. Or it was supposed to be. There was a new owner. Her name was Kerri “The Dragon Saint” McDougal. Anyone who knew the street gang and/or organized crime scenes knew who she was. An up and coming leader of a gang called named after her. The Dragon Saints were…insane. They’d battled rival gangs and various organized crime families up and down the East Coast, rattling the old order. It was a wonder the Raven or someone else hadn’t stepped in yet. Then again…the sheer outrageousness of the stories was likely working in their favor. Firefights while falling from an airliner? Dueling helicopters? Were those…hoverbikes? Then there was the merchandising and media savvy that made it seems like the worst of the exploits were just Photoshopped movie shoots and made internet stars out of the core Dragon Saints members. Next was the resulting cash building a wall of lawyers between the core members and law enforcement. Finally was the fact that they’d wisely stayed out of Freedom. Until now. A series of daring robberies in their signature over the top style had marked the arrival of the Dragon Saints to Freedom City. Tonight, Kerri was in town, with a number of old hands in tow. The latest chapter of the franchise was getting started. It was up to some heroes to put a stop to it.
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Janurary 3, 2016. Freedom City. Southside. In front of the Main Terminal of Jordan International Airport. 10:00 AM. Francisca Rivera was nervous. She wasn’t late. That she knew. Therefore, the person she was here for was. She was UN Security, it was her first time in charge, and she was assigned to a high value target. UN diplomat Kenzie Zhang was one of the most accomplished negotiators in the world. Her work (and that of her subordinates) had kept Indonesia from tearing itself apart a few years ago. Not to mention her continuing work keeping North Korea from doing anything…drastic. She was the go to person when violence threatened Southeast and East Asia. Rivera was a little star struck, but she was a professional. That was not why she was nervous. Due to budget cuts, the UN hadn’t given her a full security team. This was not why she was nervous, either. She’d made do with worse. It was the replacement for her unsupplied agents. His name was Edge, and he was an American superhero who also worked for the UN. His presence by itself didn’t make her nervous. It was what it meant. The higher ups didn’t deploy supers lightly, especially since there weren’t many working for the UN. Something was going to happen, and it was going to be bad for her and her team. She’d expressed this to Edge, but he seemed rather unconcerned. She sighed. No help for it. Her team, limited as it was, had secured the area as best they could. Edge had brought a partner, and she had lent on a hand on that front. There was nothing left to do but wait for Ms. Zhang to come out. Her current security team was even more shorthanded than Rivera’s, and had been on the clock almost 24/7 for the past three days. Rivera just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her name was Brigitte. Today she had curly blonde hair (a wig) and blue eyes (contacts). She’d been training for this ever since she could remember. She was the fifth graduate of Project Stardust, and justifiably proud of graduating earlier than the other four. This was her first assignment. The director was right. People looked at her differently. They didn’t see her as a threat. Nobody looked at her twice as she was scouting for a good spot to take the shot. But she’d found a good spot, and squeezed into it. The cameras didn’t see her approach. Her escape route was clear. The only thing left was to wait for her target, line up the scope as she’d been trained, and pull the trigger. But her target was late. It made Brigitte uneasy. Maybe something was wrong. Had one or both of the other two been captured? Should she run? Was it already too late to run? She looked around through her scope. No, everything was fine. Her target was just delayed. That happened to planes sometimes. She munched a few small cookies and waited.
