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  1. September 15th, 3ish PM, the pool. Corinne Conrad was focusing. Visualizing what would come next, running it through her mind as she swung her arms at her sides, slowly working herself up to the next step. Which was going to be tricky, she had to use her powers. But then, they wanted people to demonstrate that, so... here she was. Trying, away from others. Or at least the classes. In her swimsuit, with her back to the pool at the side, water running off of her already from the previous efforts, and time in the pool. Then came the easy part, the physical part. The standing leap into the air, before the balls of her feet struck it like it was solid, a surface to find purchase, and she then pushed off that shimming step, and away, as she carried through a perfect arch to find herself in a handstand in midair, halting her momentum, before she worked herself into position on her hands, before allowing herself to fall forward, and into a frontflip to complete the movement and dive into the chlorinated water. This was not the first. Her arms screamed in protest, but this wasn't something she listened to before, so why would she start doing it now? Regaining her bearings she moved through the water, back to the side of the pool, and surfaced, gasping and blinking the water out of her eyes.
  2. Claremont Academy. Third Floor, Rita Kord Dorm. September 4, 2018 10:05 am Lulu didn't have too much stuff to bring in; most of her clothes were still back at the Harrows' place across in North Bay, still in the boxes and bags from the mall. She was used to travelling light, carrying her most important belongings in ziplock bags tucked into a backpack and a gym bag. Growing up in rural Alabama, there were always floods or hurricanes or tropical storms that forced you to relocate for days at a time, pulling up stakes in a hurry as you grabbed some bottled water for the road. Most of the houses in Columbia were either trailers or simple uninsulated structures that were cheap to repair or rebuild. There was no real sense of permanence; God could wipe out everything you owned with a simple wave of His hand. But Freedom was very different; everything here was built to last, or even survive assault by supervillains. The walls and floors of Claremont were thick and well-worn, scuffed and polished by the passing of hundreds of youthful hands and feet. Everything was spotless and freshly-cleaned, yet you could still feel the history of the place. Lulu found room 309 with little difficulty, and stood in the doorway for several seconds as she took in the space that would be her academic home for the next three years. Two beds, two dressers and two desks in a pleasant, airy room that somehow managed not to smell like a hotel. She picked the left-hand bed at random, dropping her two bags next to it as she laid down on her back, staring up at the ceiling, idly flexing her sneakered feet this way and that. "Well...here we are."
  3. When Danica had first come to Claremont as a freshman, her parents hadn't been thrilled to see that her dorm room assignment was on the third floor. Given the length of time it took their daughter to climb a flight of stairs, it seemed likely she'd spend most of her first year of high school just trying to get in and out of her building. They were quickly reassured that Danica's room was right next to the elevator, which was more than big enough to accommodate her and her Segway in shelled or unshelled form. In the unlikely event of an emergency that shut down the elevator, she would be teleported to safely by campus security. Danica herself loved living on the third floor, it was just high enough to give her a good view of the campus and just low enough that she really could take the stairs if she needed to. This was her third year in this same dorm room and she was very used to it by now. Disembarking from the elevator, she parked her Segway next to the door of her room and walked in. As she'd kind of expected, her new roommate was already there, poring over the contents of her moving boxes. Danica's side of the room was completely empty except for the school-issued dresser, desk and bed, bare mattress and all. "Hi!" she told her roommate, walking very slowly into the room and sitting down on the edge of her mattress. "You're Selena, right? It was kind of crazy busy down there earlier."
  4. GM One of the Week Days? Maybe? Probably March 4th 2018? Evening? Definitely Jessica Witchblood's apartment The first thing that happened was the knock at the door. It was firm, insistent, and worst of all woke Jessica up out of an extremely pleasant dream. One involving a beach, a soft-eyed lover and one of her old teachers burning on a stake for all to see. "Are you there, Ms. Witchblood?" A muffled voice hollered through the door "It's me, your demon! I'm...well I'm here for the orientation!" This week had been one of the worst in Jessica's entire life. If she tried to focus on any one of the miserable things that had been going on, it caused her a severe migraine and summoned several other phantoms for the problems stacked on top of them. Which started hitting her head with large iron mallets. That might have been the ill-fated all-nighter coming back to haunt her. Greek wine was sweet, delicious, deadly. Sweet, like the lips of- The voice burst in again "Um....is this the right place? Should I come back? I need to see a Ms. Witchblood right away! Otherwise they'll throw me in the lake of fire! Again!"
  5. GM Doctor Norris North, director of W.E.S.T (World Exotic Science Taskforce) was nervous. His job of course required spinning a lot of plates, and he was not a nervous man by nature. But right now, he helped himself to a vodka. Just the one. For nerves. He was on board a Sea-plane which was descending to the cove of Dr Deoxies island. Hidden. Concealed. Remote. And by invitation. Still, even if he was invited, it was an island populated by dinousaurs and infused with radiation. He would be taking every precaution. Whilst the plane was being flown by the pilot (an experienced ex-US air force woman of stronger nerves than he), he pulled up the communication link to Doctor Deoxy. "Doctor? Doctor? Do you read me? This is North. Doctor Norris North, Director of W.E.S.T. Do we have your permission to land and...ah....where should we do so safely?" he asked, politely.
  6. Location: Just a few wrong turns from the Downtown strip of the West End Date: 9 - 23 - 18, 9:15 PM GM Post: Claremont Kids It certainly wasn't a date-date, but a 'lets check out the game store in the West End' had turned into a quick dinner and an involved discussion of the recent tabletop game shaping up for the latest crop of Claremont kids. It should have been a few quick turns to get back to the bus stop that would take them back to the safety of Claremont's dorms but a right instead of a left (or two), and the pair were decidedly nowhere near where the bus stop should be. Instead, they'd crossed the border into a dark and poorly lit Greenbank where more buildings were abandoned than not, especially at this time of night, and the rail yard loomed in the distance. They were absolutely and certainly lost. It seemed entirely deserted, at least, at first. After a few moments. Then, the faintly audible murmur of voices talking caught their attention. Peering around the corner, there was a small knot of shadowy looking individuals apparently intently arguing in low pitched Russian. At their center was a woman dressed in all black. More disconcertingly, there were certain ominous and unmarked crates sitting out. To Lulu's mental senses, the woman at the center didn't even seem to exist but she was absolutely there plain as day. Something shady was going on! GM Post: Interceptors When Talya had gotten a bit of intel on a possible S.H.A.D.O.W. cell operating near the West End, she hadn't kept it to herself. Such growth, really! Her plan, however, to infiltrate the group and ferret out the ringleader had gone over like a sack of bricks. Min, especially, hadn't been too keen on the 'I'll just let myself get captured, then we'll have plenty of information' solution of the former spy. Relationships, after all, were all about compromise. Months of work, though, and it had finally led to tonight. If everything went well, they'd finally have the information for who thought operating on the Interceptors territory was a good idea. Dressed in all black, Bombshell stood disguised in the center of some very, very dangerous people and their even more dangerous weapons, haggling for a 'good deal' for missile launchers and cluster bombs. Somewhere, out of sight, Jack of all Blades waited. She'd dropped enough hints that S.H.A.D.O.W. agents should suspect her real identity. It was a trap. Bombshell and Jack knew it was a trap, and the intended to spring it on their own terms. Everything had been accounted for. Everything, but a pair of Claremont students. Even the best laid plans...
  7. September 4, 2018 Claremont Academy (Third Floor, Rita Kord Dorm) Janus followed along, glancing at the numbers of the rooms as they passed each one in turn. The Danger scion had dressed 'down' recognizing that there would be a lot of hauling and unpacking from dark windowed car to the dormitory which meant that they only somewhat looked like some lost extra from an over-embellished k-pop video. Hair that faded from white to rose at the tips was pulled back in a tight braid that brushed the tightly laced leather pants. (Who wore leather pants in the late summer? A Danger, that's who.) The flouncy poets shirt had been cuffed back above leanly muscled forearms. Bright violet eyes cut to the sign. "Three-twelve. This is us, 'Ronnie." Like the androgynous features, Janus' smooth tenor didn't betray if the tall, slim individual was male or female, though their handsome features lent itself to an easily assumed pretty male. Shortening Veroncia's name with familial familiarity, Janus paused before apologizing as they well knew high school had an impact. If nothing else, Janus had seen all the high school movies while taking up space in Danger Manor over the summer. "Sorry, Veronica." Janus amended as they bumped the door open with one lean hip, "Habit."
  8. September 4, 2018 Claremont Academy (Fourth Floor, Rita Kord Dorm) Jaycee had suggested they meet people before the assembly. "The first time you meet somebody, you set the tone for the whole rest of your relationship. If I meet them now, when Ah want to and on mah terms, that'll make it easier to stay in control. And Ah gotta stay in control, right?" It was actually one of the most perspicacious things Ashley had ever heard her charge say - and certainly the longest string of words she'd put together since a recently-drained Jaycee had parted company with the bulk of her Secret Service detail at an undisclosed location and headed onto Claremont's campus that weekend. They'd come in early, before any of the other students arrived, and Jaycee had spent most of her time in her room studying and texting to her sisters. And so it was that the "sisters" headed out into the fourth floor hallway, Ashley taking the lead as she would for the next two years. Jesus Christ, she took a moment to think before she took in the scenery. 410 was down at the end of one hall on the fourth floor, with 409 and 411 on either side a little further towards the main staircase. There were backstairs too, of course, and escape hatches that the sophomore students probably weren't going to find out about yet. Ashley was dressed for her part in a leather jacket, denim shirt, and scuffed jeans. She'd told her handlers that the pink dye in her hair cut down on the "look" she was trying to present, but they'd told her it would soften her image. By which they mean not make me look like a lesbian. She contemplatively chewed a toothpick as she scanned the hall, then took a look back at Jaycee as she closed the door behind her. "Judy" Smith didn't look much at all like her First Daughter self - with her long hair loose and hanging down her back, in baggy brown shirt and slacks that had made her make a single small noise at the sight of them, she looked like one of the refugees they were pretending to be. She was smiling the smile of someone who'd had media training, though, as she ran her fingers against the gold cross she wore around her neck. That was new too; a gift from the First Lady that nobody had seen in public yet. "Well?" It was true - Ashley had to lead the way on this one. She headed down the corridor, looking for open doors - or the sounds of activity inside them.
  9. Cubismo

    Roomies!

    August 29, 2018 Claremont Academy (Rita Kord Dorm, Room 411) To say getting into Clarement Academy on move-in day could be hectic was possibly the grandmother of all understatements. The Rita Kord dorm had become a storm of activity. Students both new and returning were coming in and out of its walls in all manner of directions and methods. Speedsters were racing to get to their rooms, teleporters were popping in and out with their supplies, phasers nonchalantly passing through walls and people, flyers attempting to avoid the congestion on the floor only find out they weren't the only one's with that idea. In a word, it was chaos. And Astrid loved it. Easily holding a massive overstuffed duffel bag in one hand and her favorite guitar in the other, Astrid made her way through all the madness with a grin on her face. Asgard had been chaotic too, but there was a sameness to all that wonder. As strange as seeing giants, valkyries, dwarves and gods together was they all kind of clicked to together to make a whole that had its own internal logic and theme. Claremont, on the other hand, was just plain mad in Astrid's eyes. Everything and everyone seemed to keep from different worlds, each with its own unique theme. The school was diverse in the truest sense of the word, with super-geniuses, mutants, aliens, Atlanteans, and yes, Asgardians walking around every which way. Despite it all Astrid felt a there was sense of koselig here, a feeling of cozy belonging that permeated across the whole dorm as she made her way through it. It might have just been wishful thinking, but Astrid's gut told her it was genuine. When she finally made it to her new home in Room 411 she broke the dorm room in by causally flicking her duffel bag to one of the room's beds and gently putting her guitar there as well. Astrid was told that she would have a roomie to share the dorm with. Was it a Nicole Whitfield-Hall or a Nicole Whitefield-Hall? As Astrid began to unzip her duffel bag and unpack she wondered what kind of person this Nicole was. Looking at her guitar for a moment, Astrid certainly hoped she was someone who liked heavy metal.
  10. Eh'Qui 9 Time and Date unknown There were many signs that Facsimile wasn't on Earth anymore, the grass he was lying in was to green, the sky was a little too blue and looking down at him was several small horse-faced aliens. They looked down at him with a mix of concern and curiosity, after all as far as he knew he'd just fallen from the sky in front of them. The chatted excitedly to each other, apparently trying to work out if he was a danger, in cute little voices that sounded a little like horse whinnies.
  11. July 10. 7 PM. Freedom City. Southside. The city was a battleground. Omegadrones in the sky. Heroes everywhere. Broken glass and shattered buildings. Bodies in the streets. Doom had come to Freedom. Naturally, the civilians needed to get out of town. Equally naturally, there was zero chance they’d make it without a heroic escort. The convoy was big. Several buses and a multitude of private vehicles. Obviously, it wasn’t the only convoy, with Freedom being a city of literally millions. Heroes were spread desperately thin by the invasion of the Terminus, leaving only Prism and Mannequin to protect this particular convoy. Things had been relatively quiet. They had been noticed by Omegadrones, but other heroes had taken them on allowing the convoy to get across the river. It kept happening, too. But for now, everything was quiet as the vehicles rumbled down into the Southside to the trainyard. Planes were a no go, as Omegadrones could blast them out of the sky with little effort. And the highway had been jammed since 2. So, trains. Just had to get to the depot.
  12. Lakeside, Emerald City 9:10 pm, 4th July 2018 The air glowed red towards Mount Stanley but not the glorious sunset that was happening over the sparkling Pacific rather Lakeside was burning. At the edge of the area, a rather eccentric mansion was blazing merrily, with everyone out it would be no danger to anyone rather a loss of property if not for the chance of the Elysian forest also catching. Already at another fire in the area, a strange coincidence in itself, someone would be able to respond soon enough, but it could be too late for the more valuable forest that surrounded the area.
  13. The Parkhurst July 12, 2018 The Parkhurst had been a hotel, at one point. Between being a family home and being a haunted wreck, and long before it was a dwelling place for some of Freedom's occult community. It made perfect sense that it would serve as a gathering place for travelers tonight. Outside, in the distance, Nick Cimitiere watched the great fires lick up from Liberty Park. He had done what he could, where he could. But after the first day, he knew there was a chance this would not end as anyone hoped. He remembered the stories of the first Invasion, remembered being dragged out of school as grim angels with steel wings flew through the air and the scent of oblivion spread through the city. Now, death walked through the city again, hungry and rabid, with a taste for destruction that would make Ammut herself cringe. If there was a time for a miracle - or an infernal bargain - it would be tonight. And he could only hope for the former, but prepare for the latter. Nick stubbed out his cigarette and returned to the manor, ready to make preparations for his guests. Corporeal and otherwise.
  14. The Bowles Household, Bayview, Freedom City 4th September 2018, around 10 am Tomorrow was the big day when classes started at Freedom City University and it probably wasn't the best day to try and move into Dorms, but the Summer had been pretty challenging for a variety of reasons. So it would be sensible to be up and ready to start moving all of the stuff down to North End in the heart of Freedom City. This wasn't the case with Melissa, however, who right now was face down, fully dressed snoring away. She'd meant to get an early night but had begun working on new chemical improvements, with her notes scattered around her sleeping form.
  15. Midtown, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 1, 2018 10:05 AM The Labor Day weekend had begun, and for malls such as Millennium Mall, that meant sales designed for those going back to school. That was why Megan Howell-Harrow was at the shopping center this morning, although not all that long ago she would hardly have needed an excuse to be at the mall. The last few years had seen her out getting school clothes for her son Lawrence as he began a new year at school, though this year he had really pushed to just stay home, as shopping was far from his favorite pastime. But that was hardly the biggest change this year from previous. Toward the beginning of the summer, Megan had been contacted by Callie Summers about a new student coming to Claremont that had been removed from her family in Alabama due to criminal activity by some of her family members and who needed a foster home while attending Claremont. Megan had never really thought about being a foster parent before, but after reading over the girl's file she realized there was likely a lot she could do to help the teenager find herself a new path as she started over at Claremont. So, she and Robert talked things over with Lawrence and the decision was made to bring Louise "Lulu" Beaumont into their home. Megan turned back to look up behind her on the escalator from the parking garage at the redheaded sixteen year older standing behind her. Lulu had only just arrived in Freedom City the day before, so Megan figured that this outing would give her and the teen a bit of time to get to know one another away from Robert and Lawrence. "So Lulu, do you have any particular places you want to look at first for clothes?" She asked with a warm smile.
  16. Summer 2018 Hardwick Park From her rooftop perch, Wadjet watched the girls down below through binoculars, occasionally stopping to make notes in the notebook she'd started carrying. Los únicos que quedan son los que no fueron con Mouse, ¡estúpido! ¿Crees que a la Mara le importa una mierda que no corras? She was writing down names and faces now, the names of girls she'd grown up with, wondering when they were going to find themselves in the goddamned graveyard. Once she was sure she had all of them, she and Anna were going to pay them a little visit and get them to get the Hell out of town. This group of four, the oldest of which couldn't be more than sixteen, was eating pupusas and obviously working themselves up to steal the silver Porsche 911 that some dumbass whiteboy had left parked here in a corner of the neighborhood near Wolverton, where the cops usually didn't bother patrolling. She didn't really care about what property crime they were about to commit, but if she could catch them in the act, it might be a weapon to use to get them the hell out of this neighborhood - this neighborhood where dreams went to die.
  17. September 4th, 2018 Adam's parents had agreed to back off once he was ready to move into his room. He adored them, he really did, but he was eager to get out on his own. At least somewhat near something similar to 'on his own'. Not like he needed help bringing in his bags. He felt stares on him as he walked up to the building with everything he packed on his back and in his arms. He was wearing a light hoodie, jeans, and a sturdy pair of boots. He much preferred boots, they wore out slower than shoes, especially given his size. He had on his wig, fake eyebrows and contacts. He had already decided that if he was going to be a superhero, the best mask was no mask at all. He was a bit warm, but too self-conscious of his scars to wear anything short sleeved. At least yet. His parents had tried to assure him that they were sure there were other odd kids at Claremont. it was a good place to start really getting out there. He wouldn't be so much of a freak. He stepped into the room and put his things down as gingerly as he could. Then, he set to work.
  18. GM September 12th, 6.05PM Freedom City, Actually, I'm not sure where, one of the alleys by the E-Sea Bank? Kind of a blur, frankly "Boss won't forget this, mask!" The words were seriously meant, but the contempt was undercut by the fact that the man in the suit saying them was, himself, wearing a balaclava. His business partners were too busy recovering from sudden, repeated blunt force happening to them to do much but glare. the merchandise were already out of the truck, blinking uncertainly and huddled in a knot. Two of the kids had swiped a cell phone from one of their captors. It was hard to feel strongly about stealing right then. If you'd asked John where they were likely from, he might have guessed Angola. Why and how they had shown up in the truck was something that would be figured out once he'd reasoned with the businessmen. "You're wasting your time, mask!" The man was perking up now "My people will have me free in a month!" "Not if you tell him you have people," pointed out one of the quieter, wiser souls lying face-first on the rain-slick asphalt, "way to prejudice the judge against your counsel, man."
  19. GM February 2nd, 2.22AM, 2018 The Stately Faretti Haunted Manor... Outside the world was white. All of Lantern Hill was blanketed in the same piling, driving mass of sub-zero powder. Diamonds glittered in every snowbank, deer driven from the Wharton State Forest to find forage tip-toed gingerly through the yards, leaping fences to nibble at some potted greens. Birds fluttered and shivered as they hunted for scraps to bring back to the nest, keeping an eye out for any night-prowling cats. And Taylor Xiao Chun Faretti did not have to think about any of that, relaxing after an exhausting day, strong walls and a sturdy roof(not to mention a particularly powerful elemental ward) kept the chill at bay. For all her cares as Heshem's chosen and the newly-minted Master Mage of Earth's dimension and dominions, for the moment such things could wait. Which was about when the familiar, sepulchral voice spoke. Chosen The golden light of the lamp that roiled into being, along with the robed figure whose hands held it aloft on its staff, was unmistakable. There is a crack in the gates. Through it, innocents fall to darkness. My light shields them, but the night is hungry. The light curled, and for a moment Taylor saw eyes hard with anger. Such has never been, it must never be again. With a roar of fire, the image of Heshem vanished.
  20. GM Saturday, Sept 1st North of Freedom City At the Yummytummy Apiary The yummytummy apiary was, predictably, buzzing with activity. Busy little bees making honey. It was out of the city, but no so far. And of course, the Beekeeper was there indulging his obsession with bees as part of his alter ego. But so to where Fascimile and Ms. Penny Coin, the fae owner of the mysterious Puzzle Box. She was fiddling with the box in her hands, and one could only guess at how many dimensions it had. More than three, for certain. But unarguably less than four, as well. That was how the Puzzle Box was. "Look! its being driving me here! Like a compass! Buzzing all the time!" she complained to Fascimile. "Something needs to be solved!" She twirled one side and pressed a button, and with its usual spectacular explosion of nothingness.... A green giant appeared. Over ten feet tall, with a hammer in his hand, angry red hair, and a most grumpy expression. "WHERES MY KEY!" he boomed at Fascimile and Pixie, although the Beekeeper (at the moment, Baxter Bowles) was nearby studying this or that feature of this or that wasp - and he certainly heard!
  21. Thursday, September 13th, 2018 The British Museum Mid-Afternoon GM It was a balmy, comfortable afternoon outside of the world-renowned British Museum, its halls lined with patrons and on-lookers as they perused and browsed the multitude of stunning exhibits. It was a busy day, to say the least, the halls bombarded equally by enthusiasts and children on field trips as they filled the corridors with noise and laughter. Inside the curator's office, the dinning drum of the noise outside was quieted somewhat, the shut doors providing a modest reprieve. But Cassie wasn't here for her role as a curator, despite the short-staffed situation going on at the museum currently. No, she'd been summoned, and though the curator was busy filling in throughout the British Museum and assisting its many fresh-faced and veteran visitors alike, they were polite enough to provide the office with which to await the visitor - one Doctor Thomas Ritterton - who'd come seeking her out specifically, though the details of this visit were vague at best. All that could be inferred for certain was that the gravitas of the visit was one, the curator assured her over the phone, worth investigating. The office itself was well-decorated and finely furnished while still bearing an air of professionalism. Fine wood and expert craftsmanship were everywhere within the modest office of the curator, placards and awards lined with strategic precision on the walls alongside famous faces. Even a few pieces of history had found a home behind thick, immovable glass display cases bolted to the floor, a testament to the current regime's success - with a little help - in acquiring strange and exotic bits of history. A knock came to the door at that moment, careful and melodic, before a well-dressed man entered. He was an older gentleman, perhaps in his mid-fifties and sporting a bald head sharply contrasted by a thick but well-maintained peppered beard and mustache. Though he was aged and the cane he carried clacked with each step, it also did so with purpose, with drive. Even weathered as such he was someone who oozed confidence, his well-tailored navy blue suit complimenting his frame perfectly. "Good afternoon to you," he greeted, his voice raspy and refined like aged brandy, replete with a thick and warm British accent. "My name is Doctor Thomas Ritterton. Might you be Miss Crow?" piped the older gentleman with surprising energy, eyeing the young archaeologist with the same sort of respectfulness one might a well-learned colleague.
  22. Fall 2018 The invasion was over, Freedom City was rebuilding and moving on with its life - even if most people had thought that life was going to come to an end. High Steaks had taken some minor structural damage during the fracas, not enough to shut the place down, but enough that keeping a regular movement of engineers, construction workers, and their equipment away from the tourists was just one of the many bits of sleight of hand that made life at the High Steaks interesting. At least until today. "Peter broke through with his pickax," commented Miranda, the tall, rangy Italian-American woman wearing the same orange hardhat and safety gear as the rest of her men. "If he hadn't had his line on him, he'd have fallen in-" She and Diamondlight were standing together at the edge of the substantial sinkhole that had once been the bottom of his lowest underground parking garage, her headlamp only partially illuminating the substantial cavern that the collapse had uncovered. Down below, they could make out other stonework that looked manmade - and definitely something more glittering than stone. Going down there would be quite a gamble. "You want me to call the Freedom League, boss?" - It took Baxter some time to realize that the music was coming from the armor, still tucked away where he'd put it. He recognized the sound; the old Nokia that his uncle had wired into the suit a lifetime ago still worked and the suit probably still had enough power to make it work. But why would anyone be calling it? It had _not_ been part of the numbers he'd given out - but then, he hadn't always been the one in the suit...
  23. Robin ignored the trickle of sweat down her spine as she balanced, holding a sign aloft in her hands as she tried to make sure it was straight enough to install it. In the wake of the invasion, without school; she had to find SOMETHING to focus on. That something was the very ratty, very cheap office with apartment above that she'd reluctantly taken some of Fred's hard earned money to put together. She agreed, though, they couldn't make it work without someplace to take in clients... and Robin DID need somewhere to leave. Between the bionic arm that glinted dully metallic in the light and the strong cording of her muscles, there was no questioning the super human strength that let her hoist it aloft to set it into place. 'Knight Errant Private Investigations' It was a play on her last name, clearly, but Robin HAD gotten the certifications needed to legally open up the PI firm. It wasn't the most.... typical way to do superheroing but Robin couldn't join either the police or the military. This way, at least, they could try and help people, that's what Robin was trying to focus on. At least if she focused on that, she didn't have to look too closely at the wreck of her personal life. "How's that?" She wanted to know from her partner as she fished for the wrench dangling from her thin, worn jean loop. "Is it straight?"
  24. Sloane Manor North Bay, Freedom City New Jersey Thursday, July 12th, 2018 4:02 PM Erick Sloane's beachfront villa in North Bay was far from untouched. The prior day's assault on Kingston left much of the surrounding upper-class neighborhoods in a state of disarray. And North Bay was no exception. Especially after an entirely new force from the Terminus emerged to fight against both the Resistance Force and the invading force. Ironically, it seemed as if for the first time in the history of Freedom City someone could make the claim that the Fens was the safest neighborhood to live in. Of course, most residents didn't have a sprawling underground headquarters in their villas. A team of heroes had been risking their lives gathering and spreading information and equipment covertly to the Resistance in the city. The latest transmission pinpointed where one of the power sources for the device generating portals into the city was. Unfortunately, said generator was currently guarded by what had to be one of the largest armies of the Terminus sighted thus far. To make matters worse it was positioned deep inside the Raymond Nuclear Power Plant. Which had seen extensive renovations by Daedalus of the Freedom League to convert the plant into a virtual fortress. In short, any attempts to destroy the generator would be a suicide mission. Foreshadow sent a recruitment transmission through his headquarter's computer with the hope that anyone nearby would answer the call. When Sea Devil, Singularity, and Cobalt Templar arrived they found piles of Omegadrone armors strewn throughout the sprawling manor. The inside of the home appearing as if an explosive had been set off with the stench of entropic energies wafting through the air. Having to step over the burnt and battered Omegadrones they would find an open bookshelf that at one point covered the staircase that led down into Foreshadow's Forebode. The computer's holographic display had a Power Pike sticking through it slightly covering the top leftmost point on the 3d layout of the Raymond Nuclear Plant. A hooded man stood in the center of the room his back turned to the staircase, a dark blue cape flowing in tatters.
  25. GM May 4th, 2018, 11.55AM MarsTech Park, Emerald City, Oregon, USA, Earth-Prime The loudspeaker fought over the screams and howls of the crowd. Kaloke Keel, the commentator, leaned hard into every syllable as the stadium boomed with vicarious triumph. "And that's another home-run by local legend the Chef! This leaves us at the seventh with Ospreys still in the lead! Better luck next time, Mariners!" The players below were already beginning to sort themselves for the late-game stretch, and the fans were starting to quiet down, some of them tapping out orders for the auto-trays to deliver. The auto-trays were one of MarsTech Park's most popular innovations, largely eliminating the need for human vendors and the unsafe food storage of other stadiums. Hot food could be ready in minutes and sent directly to your seat in the stands via a conveyor system built just behind the surface. That the food was free, compliments of Maximilian Mars, Emerald City's favorite son, was something nobody could find fault with. Kaloke leaned back in his own chair, fading brown eyes sweeping over the field, still startled a little when a second's concentration on one point made the window-like display zoom in. Taking a sip of his now stone-cold coffee and glancing at the schedule, he depressed the microphone button and called out cheerfully "Now, we're doing good time and we all deserve a bit of a break, so let's get to something you've all been waiting for: First up, he's harder than steel but light as a feather, the flickering firepower of Black Diamond has no rival! By day he's an engineering student at Tokyo University, by night he's the baseball legend: Black Diamond!" The Park's main doors slid open, admitting a trim young Japanese man with short, smooth hair and skin like black glass lit by some inner dancing flame. He gave a deep, swooping bow to the audience....and suddenly was on home plate, twirling a bat made of the same glassy substance as his skin, grinning cheekily. The audience roared. "Now folks, I'm sorry to say Black Butterfly couldn't be here, but as we all know after some bigoted remarks by members of the Japanese National Diet she went to the kaido and beat the Prime Minister with a spiked baseball bat." Kaloke took another sip of coffee "She remains at large, and the Minister's in stable condition, so believe in miracles, folks!" "Of course it bears mentioning that this segment is sponsored by some of our favorite local establishments: Oz, where dreams are born, Nguyen's, where old skills meet make new tastes, Joy's, where you can find anything or anybody and our old friends at Bethlehem Heights Psychiatric Hospital. My cousin's been there since 1998, this is the year he's returning to society so let's give a big hand for Andrew folks, a real big hand!" The visiting Seattle fans were totally unprepared for the storm of whoops, screams and the thunderous applause that burst out at Kaloke's final words. "And keep that up for our guest, the numan Curveball! She has four arms, a keen eye and a killer's instincts! Come on out to the pitcher's mound, Jazzy!"
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