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May 2020 Radikal2002 has been a frequent and active presence in the comment section of Gimmick's videos for most of the year - her memes are dank, her counter-trolling epic, and her support for noobs real as long as they don't ask anything too stupid. Her avatar is an atomic symbol, a hydrogen atom, and she's a frequent commenter on various heroic Youtube channels. She doesn't normally extend invitations, or reveal anything about herself. So it's a bit of a surprise when she posts "If you think you have enough, meet me tonight at - and then what looks like a string of random numbers - if you aren't smart enough to decode things like that. From Rot-13 to binary with a trip through a substitution cipher based on the Anarchist's Cookbook comes "323 Carlton Street, Ashton, 9PM." Ashton isn't exactly no go territory but Gimmick knows it's no joke there. Well, that's not true - just not always a very funny one. Much of the suburban community burned during the last Terminus invasion, and though it's been rebuilt, the ground is still haunted by the ghosts of the past - and this area is Ground Zero for the next generation of Terminus mutants. Sometimes strange powers manifest here. Sometimes strange people live here.

GM Emerald City Saturday, May 16, 2020 10:54:2APM "How are you liking Emerald City, Miss Adrianna?" Vicente Cruz sat beside your dining table, a folder full of official papers laid unopened on your table. You had heard a knock on the door and when you opened it, he had introduced himself and his partner, Daria Bell, as officials from the government agency handling your refugee status. He had flashed his badge and asked that you let him inside. "We heard about the commotion you caused a few days ago. Nothing too serious? Everything turn out alright?" Daria piped up from behind Vicente. She began to count with her fingers. "No one hospitalized? No charges for assault or disturbing the peace or--" Vicente, his eyebrows twitching in what you assume to be irritation, motions for her to stop. "That's enough, Daria." Then he returns his gaze to you. "But why we are here is somewhat because of that... incident, Miss Adrianna." From out of the folder he draws a document and slides it towards you, a primer of Emerald City University's Cryptozoology program. It boasts its curriculum and faculty, including among them some of the country's leading Sasquatch experts. "As you might know," Vicente continues after you finish reading. "Emerald City has a bit of a reputation for, how would you say it, weirdness? There's an undercurrent of the hidden and the odd in the city and its surroundings, even if most people could go about their lives not really seeing anything explicit to validate their beliefs." He gestures, palm up, at you. "You yourself is a prime example. A refugee from a world where dreams are made real, and who can dream up monsters and creatures from nightmares and fairy tales." "Oh, don't string her along, Vicente. Just say what you need to say to the poor girl." Vicente, for his part, ignores his partner's comments and continues as if she had said nothing. "So perhaps you would like to be part of a community made of beings like yourself? The flotsam of space or other dimensions. Humanity can never really understand us. They see us as a phenomenon to study, or bedtime stories to frighten. Sometimes, they hunt us, believing us a threat even when we have called this Emerald City home longer than any of them. Longer than this country even." Over his shoulder, Daria is beaming at you. "We're extending you an invitation. What do you say?" Daria says and this time Vicente is nodding thoughtfully. Then visibly his features begin to change, melting back into flesh that slowly turns a bright orange. Soon, his face is blank save for solid white eyes and a mouth, which opens as he speaks. "Don't be alarmed, Miss Adrianna. I just wanted to show you who I really am." He slides his hand, orange like his face, forward as if to reassure you. "Like you, this isn't the dimension where I was born. And even then I was from another planet in the galaxy, not that Earth."

GM Outside a barn in Island View, Emerald City 9PM, May 8th 2020 Charles Charlemagne was not exactly a well known name around Emerald City magic community, but yet, Blackstaff had heard about him. A man that seemed to care for magical creatures, even if his own magic power seemed non-existant, Charlemagne lived in an always moving mansion. Its door would appear on the side of random buildings around the city. If he wanted to be found, he would be. If not? You should count on your luck. Blackstaff had found a note on the desk at his office. An invitation, to the Charlemagne Mansion, and a location. An offer for a job. By now, Blackstaff had found his way to the side of a barn in Island View. I held a simple wooden door, yet one that was entirely out of place in this location. And he was not alone. Oz had received word that Charles Charlemagne wanted to see him. Last time they had met, he had aided Charlemagne in stopping would-be monster poaches. It seemed that Charlemagne had been suitably impressed to reach out to him again.

GM Lakeside, Emerald City 3PM, May 11th 2020 Lakeside was normally peaceful. No Takazumi-gumi or Malakov Mafiya, it was not the place where one would expect much trouble. Especially not on a day where the rain was simply pouring down. All day long, the rain had been falling. And yet, trouble was afoot. A monster was running rampant through the streets of Lakeside! A great beast had caused trouble, assaulting an innocent man, and now, Ultio Suit Users were coming in from all over town, flying, running and leaping through the streets. Of course, not was all as it seemed. The monster was merely a dream, and the Dreamer had just tried to stop a purse snatcher, but now, all these would-be heroes were coming for her. But perhaps one among them would see things different? Perhaps it would take an Ultra Girl to help a Dreamer?

GM Bridgepoint, Emerald City, Oregon Tuesday, May 12, 2020 05:31:06PM The letter sits opened at your desk, a torn-up page from some textbook. It is dirtied by grime and stained by liquid, but still the neat handwriting conveys its message clear enough. The bennu, an Egyptian phoenix with splendid red and gold feathers, sits at your windowsill, picking at its feathers. It does not care to notice you or what thoughts the letter has induced in you, if anything, but it is still a beautiful specimen to behold. Found tied to a leg, is the Lemurian key. It is a cylindrical object made of brass and glass, as small as a pocketwatch, with dials all around. You are sure you could make some use of this once you figure out how to use it. But for now, Advay's letter is the most pressing matter. You have heard the news going around the rumour mill of a Naga's death a month ago. It was a gruesome sight, hear tell. Blood splattered everywhere, his magical laboratory defiled in every manner. Priceless equipment and potions broken and spilled, his notes conspicuously missing. The psychopomps tell of Advay's hand to be the cause of murder and for sure there was struggle in Yatin's home. Curiously, enough you do not know of anyone to have actually seen the scene in question, to keep the magical away from the humans some had said. Yatin's work had required proximity to humanity and so he had, with great secrecy, found a place in the middle of the Hindu diaspora of Northern Shore, Emerald City, Washington. Yet that proximity has called the murder to the attention of the Emerald City Police Department, humans the very secretive Cryptid Clans would prefer not to get involved in. Now a manhunt from all kinds, even some of the new Ultio Suits from Marstech, has been going on for three weeks andnot all those who seek him have truly benevolent intentions in mind if Advay is to be believed. If you are to find Advay before the Clans do, then you must prepare. You have five days to gather equipment or perform the relevant rituals. And after, you venture into the blackness of Sub-Terra, where only the blind are comfortable and where only stone grow. No doubt the Clans would know the same thing you do, and perhaps you may find some of their number roaming the depths as well, most likely unfriendly to outsiders.

Location: A stately manor just outside Glastonbury, Somerset, England Date: May 5th, 2020 It wasn't unheard of for Vanguard to be tapped when one of England's children developed sudden meta-human abilities. It was slightly less common for the request to come directly from the current director of the Ministry of Powers. Of course, this particular manor had once been the country home of the Lady Amanda Phipps-Gordon, the late Lady Celtic. These days, her direct descendants called the manor home. Rather than a servant, the door was opened by Nadia Griffen, who looked to be near her wits end. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. She's in the gardens. She's always in the gardens now," Nadia said, without even a hello or the usual niceties. She seemed more the harried mother of a newborn rather than her usual elegant socialite self. "And if she's not in the gardens, then she's just brought it inside with her. I've had to send the staff on holiday after the mice in the pantry. Truly, we've never had even the slightest trouble with vermin before but if she can control it, she certainly doesn't seem to be of a mind to do so." Despite her agitation, the floors of the manor were hardly in ruin. There was perhaps more dirt tracked through than was socially acceptable but it was hardly a disaster zone. It was, however, clearly out of Nadia Griffen's control and she was not a woman used to things being out of her control. "Thomas has taken our son back to the city. He doesn't need to be unnerved by his sister. He's off to Eton in the Fall for the first time, you know. Honestly, we survived the vegan phase and the vegetarian phase and even the 'eat local' phase that she was just in but this... this is just too much." With that dramatic pronouncement, Nadia flung open the back doors to the stone patio overlooking what had once been manicured gardens and a well kept hedge maze. Now, however, trees and brush thrust up from the ground that seemed more appropriate to deep wilderness than a stately English garden. A young teenager stood at the edge, just in the grass where it was reclaiming the gravel. She was barefoot, her bare legs mud streaked and covered with blue markings. She was too young to have gotten tattooed but those blue marks swirled over her bare legs and her bare arms. Wild red corkscrew curls were tossed by the wind and the teenager shook her head impatiently to clear her vision. As a rabbit took a few hops towards her, those tattoos lit up like there was light just under the girl's skin. "Tori, stop playing in the mud, dear, and come say hello," Tori - Victoria Griffen dutifully turned, once she'd gathered the bunny into her arms to take in her mother and their guest. Her blue eyes widened with recognition and surprise. "Mother! You called in the Vanguard!?" Tori gasped, her words absolutely horrified. Her gaze shot to Synapse's face. "It's just a hedge maze. You have to have more important things to do. I'm so sorry."

It was near the beginning of summer break. Prom and everything that had happened there both good and bad were now decidedly over, and it was time for everyone to get along with their lives. Judith Claudia Cahill had been faced with many challenges in the last few weeks, some of which she was reasonably sure she was never going to be able to solve. Some of them, however, were easier than others and so in the middle of May she knocked on Danica's door in the late afternoon, big book in hand, a watchful Ashley standing just behind her. As usual the contrast between the sisters was striking - Judy in her dark brown dress and Ashley in her jacket and jeans, Judy downcast and Ashley sympathetic, but of course they weren't really sisters at all, were they? When the door opened, Judy handed Danica the book without really thinking about it. "Hey, Danica," she said, a little awkwardly. "Ah wanted to make sure Ah gave this back to you before everybody, um, left." She swallowed hard. Danica's copy of Small Gods was in immaculate condition, though a bookmark was sticking out of the last page. "Ah actually really liked it!" she offered.

GM The Riverfront, Emerald City, Oregon Saturday, April 25, 2020 00:04:00 AM It was the end of the line as far as you could tell. Months before the case had entered your radar, the demand for cadavers in the market has risen unlike anything in recent memory. For sure, whoever had began buying had been smart about it. The demand had been incremental, months in the making, and there had been multiple buyers who bought at different times and from different suppliers across the city for different reasons. Funeral homes, prisons, hospitals, cemeteries, even some cadavers from mainland China. The buyers sold some of the cadavers up the chain. Then some of those cadavers would get resold further higher and higher until all of it led to this unremarkable warehouse owned by a shell company in the middle of the Riverfront. Unregulated by federal or state laws, the sale of cadavers is not illegal per-se but the interconnected buying and selling had caught your attention. And for obvious reasons, anyone that would go to those lengths to hide something was up to no good. Illegal and immoral in the eyes of the law. That's where you come in, perched on the rooftop of a nearby warehouse as below you an eighteen-wheeler truck and the shipping container on its cargo bed pulls the warehouse space. It backs up into a closed shutter gate and a burly man in a flannel shirt gets out of the truck's passenger seat. He says something to the driver and, dragging on his cigarette, fishes out a key from his jeans pocket. Then he strolls towards the back of the truck. Besides the nighttime activity below you, the warehouse and the surrounding area is devoid of life. Nothing stirs. You've seen rats and stray cats on your way but none around the warehouse. Your stakeout of the warehouse itself has not produced any sign of activity from inside the warehouse. It is dark there and only the streetlamps from outside serve as illumination for the warehouse interior. Finally, the man unlocks the shutter gate and it slides up with a clatter all too loud in the night's dead silence. Then the man disappears inside the warehouse, the beam of a flashlight to guide him. Outside, the driver waits idly, scrolling on his phone. The screen illuminates his face in a blue light. What do you do?

Nowhere, nowhen As you wake up your eyes are assaulted by the stark whiteness of nothing, as if everything was bleed together into a single bright nothing. All that you can see was is the think wisps of fog that swirl around your sleeping form. Thinking back you have a vague memory of what had happened just before you awoke here, you can’t tell yet if it was good or bad but you have a feeling that it was momentous. Though with the bright whiteness maybe it was you last thing... Through the darkness though you hear the sounds of others shrouded in the mist, so at least you are not alone. Hopefully they’ll be friendly.

On the same night that hearts were won, lost, and pranks pulled in the Doom Room, ethics professor Gale al-Salaf is running a meeting for students not interested in prom night - they have managed to secure the services of a famous (albeit mysterious) guest speaker who will be addressing the students by remote. Gale is a fairly recent hire at Claremont, slim and a snappy dresser, with short-cropped dark hair and a tendency to fashionable dress, who starts every semester with a reminder that their pronouns are they and their. They're the subject of all sorts of interesting rumors, though luckily only the more immature kids speculate about something as boring as biology. Their lessons are typically diverse, with talks spread across time, space, and even dimensions - and today they're focused on the job as the kids come in. "Hello, friends! Come in, come in! There is popcorn afoot, herbed and cheesed, and I have secured most of the campus supply of Kool-Aid..." If the guest speaker doesn't work out, there are promises of a DVD of Planet Earth's new season on the big-screen 3-D tv. Professor al-Salaf loves environmental shows.

GM April 20th, 2020, 4.45PM Blackstaff Investigations, Emerald City(Oregon), USA Vang flew unceremoniously across the office, propelled by a contemptuous backhand from the towering spirit. Baring its claws, slaver dripping from the mouths in its palms and white eyes rolling up and down along its arms, the horror turned on Blackstaff! "You see!" Vang yelled, pain and triumph mingled in the old man's voice, "I told you they were after me! They don't want you finding Soap!" This was sufficiently obvious that only the stress of the situation kept it from being comical. The wall behind Christopher's desk was shattered inward now, the warm afternoon air rushing pleasantly into the office with that Pacific Ocean salt tang. What had seemed like a simple enough case, finding a young shopkeeper in the Eastern District who had recently vanished into the twisted warrens of the District interior, had certainly taken a turn for the vicious. A saving grace was that the wards had peeled off most of the shells of shining gold armor that had bolstered the thing. Underneath, it looked thin and malnourished, the featureless head lolling and twitching as it got a bead on the occult investigator.

Justice 8PM, March 19th, 2020 University Hill, Emerald City It was late, sure, but could have been later. At least Robin could come and go, it wasn't like students didn't keep odd hours, right? Nobody would mind if she showed up in the middle of the night, and it was only evening, so, it wasn't a big issue. Not that she had been hanging around as much as usual lately, not since figuring out how to get to the AnneX, at least... So, Salvo wanted to check the place where she used to work on her stuff. Figure out how Mars had managed to grab hold of Robin's tech. It made sense, and two pairs of eyes were better than one, anyway. So, after setting things up, Robin was now standing outside the entrance to the building on the campus that held the workshop, 3D printers and whatever else that she had used to use. Compared to her fully costumed look, she had dressed down considerably. A pair of jeans, a blue and white t-shirt with the Captain Thunder logo, an open dark red jacket, and, of course, her mask. She didn't know Salvo that well yet, after all... and who knew who else was gonna show up? Robin stood a bit to the side, away from the entrance to the building, at the spot they had agreed to meet around 8. She fought the urge to look at her watch. Not that Salvo was late, but Robin really wanted to get this over with.

GM 2PM, March 21st, 2020 The Riverfront, Emerald City Since the meeting of heroes at the noodle place in Betlehem Heights, Waverider and the mighty Metanaut had volounteered to try and get their hands on an Ultio Suit system. Find a rich kid with a suit, convince him to hand it over, work their charms a little bit maybe, or, well, however else they could do it. A week or so later, they had found someone. A guy named Elliot Elijah Elder, his dad was rich, his mom was on the city council, he attended a fancy private school, so of course his mom had bought him an Ultio Suit. He hadn't really used it a lot, but Metanaut had caught him going into the suit to catch a purse snatcher, then out again, even if he had seemed kind of bored. Now, Elliot was sitting by the waterfront at the Riverfront, just looking out at the water. All alone, away from his school. Probably the best time to strike up a friendly or not so friendly conversation.

June 1, 2020 There had been much negotiation about how Vanguard would arrive in Rurland. Air travel to the new nation was heavily restricted, particularly in the wake of the single Russian military intelligence drone flight over the region (which had resulted in the addition of nearly a hundred pounds of machine parts for the new nation.) But the big teleporters built into Poliske's old administrative building, the ones that the intrepid journalists had used for their visit to what Americans in the know mockingly called "the Reservation", those had their downsides too - nobody was particularly interested in having their molecules broken down and reconstituted by machines built and controlled by Talos. So instead a compromise arrangement had been reached, and Vanguard (plus their guest member) had flown in from London on a surplus passenger plane loaded with human refugees taking shelter in the arms of Talos - mostly Venezuelans who were on the second leg of a flight from Bogota, needed technical specialists with families and children. They'd been flying over Belarus for an hour now and were approaching the former exclusion zone, and the heavily jet-lagged refugees aboard were waking up and nervous. They were a mixed bunch, mostly in surplus clothes, wary of the foreign heroes, and from the sound of things ready for where they were going - at least emotionally. Eira had not socialized, at least once it was clear no one on board required her immediate assistance. Up front in the pilot's compartment, she'd connected directly to the plane's computer network by means of a curling dataspike from the bottom of her sleeve and remained largely quiet during the flight from London. Dressed in a bulky brown sweater and worn-down jeans, she was a bit overdressed for a Ukranian summer - but with her hair dyed black, could have blended in almost perfectly with the refugee crowd.

St. George's Cathedral 6PM, roughly, Easter The largest and most magnificent church in Freedom is St. George’s Cathedral in Midtown across from Liberty Park. The cathedral is built in the Gothic style like the great cathedrals of Europe. It features tall, thin steeples, a high bell tower, a cruciform shape, and space enough for hundreds of parishioners. The church is named for the famed dragon-slaying saint, and a huge stained glass depiction of St. George’s greatest deed is a centerpiece of the cathedral. The numerous other stained glass windows depict other saints and religious figures. The second Easter Sermon was done and people had filed out to go eat. The topic had been redemption and rebirth, yanno, the expected sort of topic on these sorts of things. It was eloquent, and gentle, with the Archbishop Charles Fairwell doing the duties for today. It ended and there was a food spread out in the courtyard, as it was a lovely spring day. Benjamin Franklin d'Amato sat in a pew still, after people had filed out, and he had his arms were against the the back of the pew in front of him, and he was leaning forward. He wasn't really praying, just lost in thought. This placed hadn't changed much since... well anyway, it was weird. Trying to sort things out, and he wasn't really equipped to deal. One too many shots to the head. He smiled wryly.

GM Jadetown, Emerald City April 12th, 2020 1:00 PM If anyone in Jadetown celebrated Easter, those plans had long since been abandoned. A gang of young man had roamed the streets for weeks now. They caused trouble, assaulted and robbed the citizens, and every attempt to get the police to intervene had met in failure. Clearly, someone was protecting the gang. Most of the citizens of Jadetown had accepted the trouble and the almost daily attacks, but one, a young man named Gai, had not. He had run for the streets, and somehow, he had gotten the attention of two heroes: Venomax and Visionary. He had begged each for help, to come and stop the gang, to do what the police would not. Maybe they had listened, maybe they hadn't. Time would tell. Now, the gang was roaring through the streets once more. Twelve ultra modern, high powered bikes tearing through the streets, the riders shouting as they knocked down anyone or anything in their way.

Late February 2020 It was a couple of days after the Valentine's Incident - a date where everything had gone terribly wrong, even if the aftermath had been enjoyable enough. But now Fa'Rua was back on her ship in all the ways that mattered and Ashley Tran was down here on Earth, dealing with the aftermath of her personal secret being exposed in a very unpleasant way. She had _not_ told Judy that she'd been spotted out with her date; being 'made' as going out that night had been difficult enough, and she did not need a teenager's questions about her space girlfriend even if it was from a teenager she loved like the dumbest of her little sisters. But she had to talk to one teenager, didn't she? Summers of course had played student discipline cards close to her chest, as she always did (which Ashley had to admit was probably fair, even if it made her job substantially harder) but she knew that the immediate situation with Davyd had been resolved, and he hadn't informed on her to Summers. Which meant the ball was in the court of Ashley Smith, teenage hooligan, and not Callie Summers, feared headmistress. Great, just great. She tracked Davyd down near the end of the day, when it was still a while before the dinner bell but after the end of afternoon classes. She looked like 'herself', white t-shirt with leather jacket over it, battered denim jeans, her bubblegum-pink hair a shot of color above her dour face.

April 2020 The Doom Room The Doom Room has never looked like this before. The room looks like a big, bustling speakeasy from the 1920s, not a place that was but a place that should have been, where boys, girls, and other folks of all shapes and sizes can sit together at wooden tables, mugs of cold, frosty root beer in hand (more daring souls can sample the punch), fedoras and suits on the boys, skirts and pearls on the girls (or vice-versa, depending) and if they feel so inclined walk out onto the dance floor and move to electroswing 'played' by a simulated band (complete with pretty redheaded torch singer) that'll be happy to step aside for any brave souls eager to volunteer. You can peer out the window to see city streets full of roadsters and coupes, or step into the unisex bathrooms and see what sure looks like period fixtres! There are adult chaperones here and there, teachers and parents mostly, but for the most part this is the day for young people. "Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary people of all ages!" Zoe Robinson, aka Morgana, is downright resplendent on-stage by the band, standing next to the torchsinger who might have been her twin. "Welcome to the junior-senior prom of _2020!_" And the music kicked up, and a few brave souls started looking across the room at their dates - or maybe for a lucky few, across a table...

Content Warning: Police violence. The Fens 82nd and Baltimore Friday April 10th, 9:30 PM There wasn't much cause for celebration for the residents of the Fens most days, The rayguns making it in as even an underdog to the championships would just about do it. After the surprise upset even in the fens the residents took to the streets to celebrate. The FCPD worried the celebration might turn violent had withdrawn prepared to cordon off the whole district if it tipped into rioting. Barricades had been placed just off the street at the few throughways from the Fens into the theatre district or parkside. The residents of the Evers Manor complex had spilled out into the streets in the shadow of the Wallace Expressway. The mood was light and easy music pumping from the sound system of a local enthusiasts amp van laid a thumping beat for the crowd to groove too as they milled about cheering on the home team. If they were aware of the barricades being prepared a couple blocks over where Baltimore crossed the expressway into Greenbank they weren't bothered. It looked for the moment in this corner of hte Fens at least the celebration might pass without more than public intoxication and some noise violations, the kind of thing easily ignored by the police in light of the alternatives.

Somewhere. Sometime. April 9, 2020 Each of them woke up alone in a featureless white room with a single equally featureless automatic sliding door. Woke up in the general sense of coming to awareness, not having actually been unconscious. This was most odd, as they had decidedly not each been alone in a featureless white room the minute before. A few seconds’ worth of remembering would allow them to recall the air wavering in front of them, several seconds of blackness, an instant of nonawareness, and then the current situation. Any superhuman sensory abilities would not penetrate the walls of the room. The door would, of course, open if they approached it, revealing a featureless white corridor with another door not a full minute’s walk away at the end of it. This second door would also open, revealing a central room into which all of their hallways fed into. This room was decorated as if for a party, with a big colorful banner that said "WELCOME FREEDOM LEAGUE!", and a circular table with several chairs around it. All of the decorations were oriented towards the doors. A glance above their heads upon entry would reveal an inactive viewscreen and camera.

The Boardwalk Freedom City, New Jersey.Thursday, April, 2nd 202010:00 PM "I'm telling you. Frank has the best hot dog cart on the Boardwalk. Back when I had a penthouse here, It was my stakeout food of choice" Foreshadow told Raven before taking a bite. The prescient acrobat's cape fluttered in the wind as he stood on the sign of a run down hotel. The sign flickering in the night. The heirs to two heroic legacies in Freedom City had met up to discuss an auction that supposedly included powered individuals as items of sale going on in the Atlantis casino. "Oh! The kid's good. Solid nine out of ten for style." Down below the latest hero to don the mantle of Archer had been following an armored car that was transporting bags of cash from a casino. It had been stolen in the morning by a group of five ex special forces soldiers. The driver employed by the armored car company. They had almost gotten away with it until Archer tracked them down leading to a pursuit through the streets of the Boardwalk. Just now two thermite arrows that had been placed before the chase had started were set off from tire welds. Sending the vehicle careening in such a way so that the armored car was actually stuck in the one way entrance of an alleyway the opposite end blocked off by the back entrance to a meat market. The crash location gave both heroes perched above a clear view of the processions below. Two of the thieves came out into the alleyway with riot shields. Which provided them a degree of protection, but not to the degree that staying inside the armored car.

The Pennington Estate, Stone Ridge, Bedlam Friday 10th April 2020, around 8 pm If you ever wanted to see a display of overindulgence and money in one place than the Good Friday parties thrown by Dahlia Pennington. Despite any claims to the contrary the party was an excuse for all the high society to get together and get drunk whilst showing off there ostentatious displays of wealth, and for the luck few there were after party activities that would make the most jaded socialite blush, along with some rumored much darker activities. For continued success it was said you always had to give up something, and whilst the Pennington’s were prepared to sacrifice to do so it wasn’t them taking all the risks…

Port of San Juan San Juan, Puerto Rico, US Wednesday, April 1st, 2020 3PM local time "He has not called me once." Princess Thaelia of Atlantis explained to her former roommate Giang Trang. The conversation had gone as such for the former roommates. Catching up on their lives, the latest subject was her awkward not quite courtship of Elias Silvestri. "I own a cellular device, and yet no distance calling." Thaelia was dressed in ceremonial Atlantean armor, an object wrapped in a large cloth the size of her body tucked underneath her arm. Thaelia, Giang, and Heroditus were in the port of San Juan. One of the busiest ports in the Caribbean. Which on this day had an entire passenger ship dedicated to them. But, the trio would not be actually utilizing the ship. Though the pier was crowded with many dockworkers and potential passengers traversing, no one paid mind to the otherwise empty dock as they approached. Unlike when General Dalekos had dragged Heroditus out of Claremont some months ago, Thaelia didn't set up a meeting with Headmaster Summers. Simply arriving at Claremont and essentially kidnapping the Atlantean scholar. Leaving Giang with the job of apologizing to the Headmaster, who was both already aware of the kidnapping, and subsequently tracking them down. Where Thaelia explained that she needed inquisitive eyes for a task. The Atlantean Senate had unilaterally requested that three abandoned Atlantean outposts be investigated. After reports of salvagers in the area they dare not have Atlantean technology taken by those who may wish to do Atlantis harm. Though at least that was the public stance, never one to mince words Thaelia openly theorized to the others that certain members of the military may also be looking to reoccupy some of those outposts. Their first stop was to be her grandfather's base of operations during surfacers' second World War.

GM 11PM, April 1st, 2020 Bridgepoint, Emerald City A man had walked into Mictlan this morning. He had looked disheveled, scared. His hoodie was torn in a few places, he had some bruises. He was rubbing his right arm, looking around with a frantic look in his eyes. He'd heard rumours that some kind of witch was hanging around, someone that dealt with bad stuff. He had just met some bad stuff, the night before, at the port in Bridgepoint. Some kinda demon, he said. A shadow man. It seemed to be just shadows and glowing white eyes under clothes. It had attacked him, it had beaten him, then left him alone. He wasn't the only one. A lot of the night shift had visited by the same thing the last few weeks. He hoped that the people in the shop would pass word on to the witch, before he hurried out of there. The public port in Bridgepoint was not as silent as one would expect at night. A few men were walking around, sure. Guards, probably. The man that had rushed into Mictlan and asked about the witch was one of them, patrolling at the docks, making sure no one entered any of the ships in the port. Some people would pay good money to keep their ships safe, after all. There was a party at a larger yacht, with music playing and laughter filling the air. They could be heard from far away, attracting plenty of attention. Someone on the city council throwing a party. Maybe the shadow man would show, maybe he wouldn't. Perhaps Santa Muerte would find out.

April 2020 Eira Katastroff and Kay Tregennis were friends. Oh they had their differences. Eira's parents had doted on their only daughter all their lives. Kay's parents had all but lost sight of their youngest child until the bus crash that had left her in a locked-in condition. Eira's parents were wealthy, the sort of northern European old money that could have stepped off the set of Downton Abby: The Later Years, Kay's parents were dairy farmers living close to the edge of poverty on the coast of Cornwall. Eira liked metal music and Kay liked chav-hop, Eira loved science and Kay wasn't really interested in anything except her art. Eira was of average height and liked to dye her hair and experiment with her physique, Kay was short and liked her red curls. But they did have one thing in common that had brought them both together - they were both young European women who had made the transition from organic to synthetic bodies about the same time; raised together, discussed together among the circles of super-scientists familiar with their respective cases. There weren't so many people like that that you could ignore one, and they'd had enough experiences and people and places in common that she (along with Synapse) were probably the people in Freedom City who really knew Kay well. If anyone had. She was legally of age; there'd been nobody to stop her from walking out of school, buying tickets to the Ukraine, and then simply walking across the border to Rurland. Eira had gotten Lady Farrington's message about reaching out to Kay - and so at the appointed time, had arrived at her front door. She was dressed 'down' today, in a jean jacket and Amon Amarth black T-shirt, a small belt of gear hanging around her waist as she knocked.