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March 2020 Alpine, Texas There's not much in the Big Bend region of Texas except space. The city of Alpine is relatively large; almost five thousand people, with a state university in Sul Ross, and the remotest AEGIS base in the Lower 48 States - tucked away inside an old gas station on the edge of town, the one most of the locals think might be haunted. There are a lot of old hippies in this area, people who liked the isolation better than the California or Nevada deserts, or just wanted to be able to disappear into the mountains, so when news came of robot reptiles appearing all over the area, originally the local office treated it as just more poppycock. At least until the twenty-foot robot crocodile crawled out of the sewers and tried to make a nest in the country club's golf course. So now there's a veteran AEGIS agent on the scene! But on the other hand, even a robot crocodile is just a crocodile. So this is a good mission to bring super-teens along; especially those who know a thing or two about machines and giant reptiles - or perhaps those careers might not take them into conventional superheroing. - Eira hadn't said much to Danica on the flight to West Texas, but she hadn't been quite the cold fish that she'd heard. She was dressed in an outfit suitable for West Texas - denim jeans and a blue and gold patterned shirt, dark glasses against the glare (though why would a robot need those?), and a white cowboy hat perched on her head. The Freedom League Javelin (albeit one disguised as a regular Learjet to avoid attention) had covered the 2000 miles from Freedom City to Alpine in about two hours; and had left early enough that it was still only about eight-thirty when they landed at Alpine–Casparis Municipal Airport. There had been very little signs of towns below until they got here; even now this was still obviously very remote.

April 13th, 2020, 9AM at all points in the Omniverse, the start of Spring Break, Eternity Threshold of Primes, The Dimension of Doors, Infinity "I'm multiple liquid tons of 'dragon's blood', Prince. You're what, a gallon? Gallon and a half? This is stupid as hell." Above his charge, the green dragon lounged on a step, looking up at the boy with no little frustration. In the geometry-defying space Leroy Ransom-Conte, Dragon Prince of Earth-2, looked even more excessively dramatic than usual, a robe of pure white billowing from his shoulders, his feet unshod and his hair swirling in the shrill wind between worlds. In one hand was a knife of black diamond, in his other was a bundle of nerves very clearly trying to escape down his sleeves. Sweat trickled down his face as the blade approached his thumb. Beneath his shifting toes was a meticulous circle graven with Atlantean runes, with five circles intersecting at points any magician would understand at a glance, but to Leroy had been as alien as the experience of towering over most schoolmates. "My blood is unspilt for their sake, Dio." He swallowed, focusing on the descending arc of the smiling, smiling little dagger. "I am a coward." The dragon snorted, looking deeply unhappy "I don't think so, but...okay. Give a shout if you want something for the-" The knife brushed his skin, and like water dissolving salt it tore through. "-pain." Dio finished with a sigh, hopping off the step to pat Leroy on the back as the boy's face worked fantastically, the six scars on his cheeks stretching and growing ragged. Hurriedly, as the black blood beaded and smoked, Leroy walked to each circle and marked the names they enclosed with a smear. That done, he fumbled in a backpack, withdrawing a first aid kit and sitting down to disinfect and close the clumsy tear in his royal skin. "I thank you, Almighty," he muttered, tearing a band-aid out of its box, nose wrinkled at the sting of alcohol, "for Judy Smith, and her unerring foresight." "Now what?" Dio demanded, reclining once again, his pointed tail swinging over the edge of the abyss that gaped between the staircases wheeling and rambling in every direction. "They'll come here when they next walk through a door, but this dumb plan only works if they're all on board for visiting an Earth whose only advertisers are you and me. And one of us doesn't exactly make it sound amazing." he added with a look as pointed as his fifth limb. "I asked if they would like to visit a magical world, meet wonders and have an adventure. They all said 'yes'. This is the agreed-upon time. They know to open a door now will transport them." Leroy completed the application of the bandage with a gentle kiss, as Judy had always done, though he remained uncertain why. Despite the obvious lingering pain, his golden eyes shone. "I have erred many times, my dragon. But this time, nothing can possibly go wrong!"

The Freedom Ledger Online #ReleaseTheRavenCut by Dancia Devons At the top of the story a video plays of an old ‘80’s film, an older Centurion turns to look as an armoured foot stomps down. A pan up shows a power-suit in with the familiar form of The Raven. If you ask the more discerning comic book fan they will tell you one of the best comics of the 80’s was a The Raven Rises, a comic that imagines a very 1980s future where an old Raven comes out of retirement to save Freedom City opposed by a similarly aged Centurion now working for a government that bans superheroes. What many don’t realise is that there was a film made of the comic, though only a few clips have surface in the last forty odd years. Many consider it a cheaply made film to keep the rights, like Coorman’s Atom Family movie, but many insist that it a fully realized movie on par if not better than ‘78s Centurion: The Movie or ‘89s The Raven. So when rumors began to circulate at the end of last year that a print of the film had been found the internet was quick to call for the movie to be released, creating the now famous #ReleasetheRavenCut hashtag…

GM February 25th, 2020, 10:00 AM Claremont Academy, Sub-Level Four, Combat Simulator "Alright, listen up. I know that you got some experience from your old school, O'Brian, so you've been chosen to help show Winters the ropes, but no funny business. Got it?" A tall man with brown hair and a crew cut was barking orders at the two students in the Combat Simulator. The gym teacher, Mr. Travis Armstrong, was barking orders with the best of them. He had also made it clear on multiple occasions that he was watching Max, not entirely confident in her change of heart and her shifting from her old school. Still, he had told her that this was him showing her some trust by letting her take part in this exercise. The teacher stood behind the safety glass in t control booth, a confident smile on his lips as he looked down on the currently bare room. "With that out of the way, let's start with a warm up." His fingers danced over the keyboard and controls, gettingeverything ready. The entire area around them changed, blinking for a second, then the pair found themselves standing in the middle of a random city. It didn't seem to correspond to anywhere in Freedom City in particular, more a mish mash of parts. They were alone, no cars, no people. Not until a group of four masked men with guns appeared before them. "Alright, go get 'em!"

February 17, 2020 15 minutes before the first class of the day Her face a picture that might have been captioned "Soon!", Eira Katastroff leaned back against the wall, a lazy smile on her face as her internal clock ran down. The halls were full of people in their lockers, heading to and from class, chatting and texting to each other, but as usual she seemed to be an island unto herself amidst the other teenagers. Smirking, she leaned back against the wall, her blue hair visible inside the yellow hoodie she'd pulled up over her head, and watched the other students go by, her head rocking slightly to the beat of an inaudible melody.

February 2020 Art Class A Day Before The Eagle Flies Alone The argument with the teacher had not quite been loud but it had certainly been heard across the class. Eira Katastroff had let her know in tones of offended dignity that forced collaboration was a patently failed pedagogical technique that did not actively promote learning. But when faced with a threat to the headmistress's office if she didn't follow instructions, Eira had backed down, just in time to find herself sitting opposite the leader of Orange Squad, who by the grim logic of an odd-numbered class had found herself without a partner at a critical moment. The assignment was to "create a representation of each other" - and as Eira glared at Mia, her arms folded across her chest, her blue hair a striking contrast against her button-down white dress shirt, she was certainly a striking picture. The teacher was on the other side of the room and the studio space was big, and the two of them had privacy if they were willing to talk quietly.

The Rooftops of Dubai, sunset. It was still hot, the metal of the scaffolding was warm, the bright orange reflective paint of the unfinished portion of the But what was more worrying was the swarm of Katanarchists. The why of them being here was currently not the thought that Benjamin d'Amato (a.k.a the bouncing pugilist hero Rebound!) was worried about. It was more that they were here and fighting him, that was the pressing concern. And punching, kicking, stabbing, ninja starring (Is that even a word? -ed) were also pretty important. This wasn't what he was used to. A street scuffle, or a place where he could make like a pinball and ping about, but this was limited space with guys and dolls who were a cut above (I see what you did there. -ed) in a precarious position that hemmed him firmly outside of his comfort zone. Heck, this high up and he wasn't sure he couldn't be cleaned up except by paper towels. They were working towards the crane at the top of this thing, and he was trying to stop them. Already worn down from however long this had been going, he worked himself after them. "Don't s'pose youse guys wanna call it quits and just give in?" He ducked his head sharply behind one of the metal poles as a shuriken struck against it, "Okay, okay, good talk. Well whateva youse doin' I gotta stop ya so..." And with that he changed his grip and swung around bringing his feet against a pole, and bracing against it before he leaped up towards the crane, and the Katanarchists. It was in the middle of the trajectory that he noticed one of the Katanarchists as doing something, and at the moment he would have made contact there was violence and brightness, and he found himself sailing backwards, flung by the force. As the world broke apart. Claremont Academy, Combat Simulator Room, February 9th. 1PM, ish. Rebound tried to course correct, his mind already working out the angle of his movement, and he completed the flip as he hit the wall, and grunted with the force of it, but he bounced right off. His control was such that he fell forward, and the twenty feet down from the wall, to land in a smooth crouch. He panted, his uniformed dusted up, his domino mask a little torn, and his lip was busted up. As per usual he was on a multi hour training scenario, though this was him trying to pick up the tactics, the world he was thrust in now. Kids were the same, ish. Maybe. But the combat scenarios had a lot things for him to look into and sort through. His natural instinct was simply to go another time, in a different scenario that the computer was randomly generated..

Happy Hour, Chester's Club, West End, Freedom City 14th February 2020 Lucy wasn’t generally one to feel melancholic, she enjoyed her un-life to the fullest. But this year was going to be rough on her, the 1920 had been her time when everything swung and she was among the bright young thing. It wouldn’t be long before a century that she was originally killed, and whilst she’d missed most of it the weight of the years weighed heavy on her. People shouldn’t relive a decade more than once, and she wonder mournfully if it was be the same if she made it to the next ‘20s. Sipping her dirty Martini Lucy wasn’t really paying attention to the cub she liked to spend her time, instead of the dingy (though no longer smoky) jazz atmosphere, the club was brightly lit with table for a night for those who didn’t have a date for this special day...

GM Claremont Academy, Freedom City 3PM, February 14th, 2020 The being came from the stars, far beyond Earth. Travelling on the interstaller waves and cosmic light, it soared towards the Earth, beyond Jupiter, past Mars, a line of invisble light going past the Moon. If anyone tracked it, if anyone could even keep up with the ray of light as it headed towards the Earth, it would become clear that it was heading towards one particular academy in one particular city. The weather was nice. Sunny, slightly warm for February, a few clouds on an otherwise clear sky. Classes had ended early for once, something about someone having gotten to the PA systems, and it had sounded very much like Headmistress Summers announcing that classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. Before anyone figured otherwise, the chaos was too great, and the teachers decided to just let the students have the day. Everyone was young and in love at some point, after all. Which was just what the being was after. A place full of young, brave, beautiful heroes. What better place to find someone worthy of its full, undivided, cosmic love?

Aboard the Pale Rider in the Naraka System Early February, 2020 Evening The Stigmata hung in view on the Pale Rider’s cockpit video screen. A great, cyclopean vessel, it spanned at least two miles in length and almost resembled a greatly displaced ancient Mayan temple in construction. Strange geometric patterns ran across its surface, glowing in what seemed to be a strange equivalent to running lights. Rather than steel, its exterior seemed to be made of some strange, orange ceramic or stone. And around it, there was some sort of aura of portent, as though it were a prophet of ill-omens to come. Moving in front of the screen was a young Lor woman, short but solidly built, dressed for an expedition with a skintight space-suit and a pack full of analytic tools. She was Dr. Ea’Po, an archaeologist specializing in the lost civilizations in the Galaxy, and she was the reason both Starlok and Dirge were there. She smiled at both of them, showing off her perfect white teeth, and gestured. “So, this is the Stigmata. It belonged to the Atchpa civilization, which went extinct some 1200 years ago. Like the Noktoni,” she said, shooting a glance to Starlok, “they looked humanoid but had several key features that separated them.Four-chambered stomachs like most ruminants, flat teeth, a supernumerary eye at the centre of the forehead, and a strange variation on the pineal gland that allowed them to perceive things most sapient species cannot.” “Now, the Stigmata was from the end of their civilization. As we understand it, it was supposed to make a warp to the Andromeda Galaxy to find a new homeland for their species. Their own planet was going through ecological collapse for uncertain reasons and for reasons we don’t know, they seemed to want to get as far away from the Milky Way as they could,” she said. “Instead, it’s ended up here, about 60 000 LY from their home planet and 1200 years later, but definitely not in Andromeda. However, weirdly enough, it seems to be working fine. Life support’s running with specs similar to Lor-Van, so’s anti-gravity, and power’s active at least in portions of the ship. No visible damage on the outside…” Starlok stared from her position in the captain’s chair, legs crossed. All around her were electro-candelabras, her preferred method of lighting, which complemented the steel gothic look that the interior of the ship had. “And how many weapons would you say it has?” Starlok asked. “Oh, plenty,” the doctor said. “We’re talking some potent stuff, too. I’ve identified several class-1 torpedo bays - those could punch a hole even in a state-of-the-art Khanate ship-of-the-line, and at least a hundred laser batteries. They were expecting some pretty serious resistance in Andromeda.” Starlok steepled her fingers. “Excellent,” she said, sounding pleased. The doctor then turned to Dirge. “Now, from what I can tell… None of the ship is metal. It seems to be some kind of… I don’t even know how to explain it. But just in case I am wrong, I need you to not. Destroy. Anything. Everything on that ship is priceless. Once I have a look at what I need to look at, you can do what you want with it, but I need to study this thing.” Starlok tapped her chin. “And we know the ship can still be controlled?” “I mean, everything else is working, and as long as you have me around with you in the control room, I know their tech enough to teach you how to pilot this thing.” Starlok grinned. “Goooood.”

January 2020 Claremont Cafeteria Eira sat alone at lunch, not seemingly bothered by the fact. Her plate was full of the vegan lunch specials of the day - a cup of tomato basil soup, a curry-spiced sweet potato and wild rice burger, a pesto chickpea salad on the side, and a slice of coconut yogurt cheesecake topped by a few raspberries. Those passing close to the blue-haired teen could faintly hear music as they went, the strains of some half-audible rock music playing, but she wore no headphones. She was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with a basketball jersey over it and sweatpants, her facial piercings glinting in the light overhead as she tilted her head back to eat, the soup briefly a red stain on her blue-painted lips before she dabbed it away with a napkin.

January 2020 Just after "One by One" When Lulu arrived back at her dorm room after the meeting with Orange Squad, she knew Eira was in there - and in a mood. They'd only been sharing the same space for a few days but she knew what the loud music meant when the door was closed; and that Eira would be perfectly content to listen to it for hours at a time unless she was asked to stop. The sound vibrated through her hand as she opened the door, and she was bombarded by a guttural German voice singing a song that had been five years old when she was born, playing at a volume that pushed the limits of Claremont's policies without actually breaking them. "Du! Du Hast! Du Hast Mich!" Eira was standing at her desk-turned-lab-table, violently banging her head and thrashing her limbs, mouthing along to the song. She'd taken off her hoodie and was down to a black halter top that set off sharply against her pale skin, exposing what looked like deep scars over her shoulder blades as she danced. Eira was not by any means what Lulu would have called a competent dancer, but she was certainly aggressive about it. She looked Lulu's way as she came in; but didn't immediately stop.

GM Lightning struck in Vibora Bay. At least, that's what it seemed like at first. There was a sudden flash of light, a great rumble echoing across the harbor, and then there was fire. The coast of Vibora Bay never sleeps. The beaches and waterfronts are active year-round. The water in Vibora Bay was warmer in the winter than it was during the summer in some other beach towns, and even when people weren't swimming, there were still picnics and barbecues. It never got cold enough on land to discourage tourists from all over the world from seeing what the shops and restaurants and nightclubs had to offer. For natives of the Northeast or the Midwest, Vibora winters weren't even jacket-weather. And shipping had always been the life's blood of the Queen City. It was one of the most active ports in the world. This weekend afternoon was no different. Ships had been coming and going constantly, an even mix of cargo freighters, fishing vessels, and pleasure craft. A bulk carrier ship had left the Easton Shore just a few minutes ago. It was about a mile into the water, still a couple more miles until it would have reached the place where the Bay became the Gulf. Now it was on fire, and the flames burned so brightly that, even a mile away, it was difficult to look directly at them. It was like looking into the Sun.

Vibora City Morgue, 13th February 2020, Probably to Early for most Latresia Barnes was not having a good day, already having spent far to long trying to sort out something for tomorrow and it might all be for naught either. She wasn’t meant to be in today but the police had insisted she came in and did this one, a body found abandoned in the Oldcorne district with the old money of there insisting it been handled quickly and quietly. “Female around 20 years old, appears human. Corpse is overly pale and appears emaciated.” she intoned into the recorder as she began to prep for the autopsy, it was always sad when they died this young “No outwards signs of wound on the body, will now open up the body. What the f…?” Opening the corpse the smell of decay filled the room, no something unexpected but not as someone who had apparently died so recently. The source of the smell was more obvious from the internal organs, that appeared withered and mummified and not the type of organs you’d find in someone so freshly dead. It was something that beyond her knowledge, however skilled she was, it was something for those with a very different skill set. “We better get the Police Chief down here, and see if those new superheroes of ours are free to come on down.”

Coalition Victory Station, Docking Bay 2 Late January 7:30 PM For the past few months, Ori-Bath, scion of House Nos, Countess of Lugo, had been bandied about various Lor worlds, talking to countless faceless bureaucrats while being redirected at every turn. Though she had come to them for aid, the Lor and their pitiful Coalition had been reluctant to aid her. Nokton and its small demesne was outside both the Republic and the Khanate, a minor independent power, and thus it was not politically expedient to intervene in such a small matter. Especially since the Grand Duke of Nokton was similarly uninterested in doing anything about the problem, and had made as much clear to any who asked him. However, after some mild intimidation of low-ranking pencil-pushers and a dedicated effort to being a thorn in the side of the bureaucracy, Ori-Bath had been directed to the Coalition Victory station, basely referred to as “CoVic” by the locals. There, she was told she might be able to make some allies who could prove useful to her in her dynastic struggle in the future. Many had been warned in advance of her notoriously acidic temperament before her arrival, in order to ensure as few issues as possible. She had received some warnings in return about her own behaviour, but she had mostly tuned out. She was a countess, and conduct herself as such. “This is Ori-Bath, Countess of Lugo, aboard the Pale Rider. I have forwarded you the requisite permits, and am looking to land. You shall furnish me with a docking bay. Is this clear?” Said Ori-Bath, speaking over her channel to the docking manager. “...Alright, checks out, you’re cleared to land in Bay 2,” responded a monotone voice. Before she could take issue with the blasé manner in which she was addressed, Ori-Bath’s attention was drawn by the landing lights guiding her towards Bay 2. She decided that she would merely complain later to their superior, and instead focus on claiming her spot before some other buffoon tried to. Flicking a few switches, Ori-Bath guided her ship into the bay, deploying her landing gear and feeling the familiar rocking of the landing process as her ship settled into position. She waited for the bay doors to close behind her, and listened to the characteristic hiss as breathable air rapidly filled the room around her. After a few minutes, a green light flashed telling her that it was now safe to depart the Pale Rider and head into the bay itself. With a loud hum, the walkway descended from the Pale Rider, and Ori-Bath descended. She was dressed in the Panoply of Nos, complete with sword. Her cape fluttered behind her as she walked down the steps, eyes searching for any procession to meet her. She wished to make an impression on this day, to make it known that she was not someone to be trifled with. “Behold!” She cried. “Starlok has arrived!”

High Earth Orbit The Lighthouse Friday February 7, 2020 8:50 PM Greenwich Mean Time (3:50 PM Freedom City) In the aftermath of Eria's first meeting with her fellow members of Orange Team, the Swedish teen had made arrangements for her team to spend the weekend on CoVic Station as guests of the Praetorians. So when classes had finished today, the members of Orange Team were taken in a school van to Freedom Hall, where they teleported up to the Lighthouse, the most convenient place for the Praetorians to meet them. The Claremont students had been aboard the Freedom League's space headquarters for about half an hour, getting a tour from Freedom League member Velocity, who for the most part had managed to keep herself moving at a more normal speed. When the yellow clad speedster got word that the Praetorians' spacecraft had exited the wormhole at the edge of the solar system, she led the teens down to a large viewing lounge located near the airlock where the spacecraft would be docking. Outside the large windows of the lounge, the teens could see the Earth moving past below, with the northern half of Africa having moved into view. "Well, it should only be a few more minutes before they arrive." Velocity said as she moved over near some of the windows before turning back to regard the group of teens.

CLAREMONT ACADEMY, FREEDOM CITY, NEW JERSEY, VINLAND, MIDGARD* FREYA’S DAY, MONTH OF THORRI Bobbi day had been fairly normal when she got up, but now she was walking down the drive of a prep school that probably cost more than her town made in a year to meet the daughter of a god. At least she hadn’t had to fly here, and a flying horse was just par for the course in a city like Freedom, and she could stop for a coffee without, many, eyes brows being raised. But just in case she came to Claremont in a taxi as Bobbi. It had been many centuries since Sanngriðr had met any other Asgardians so Bobbi wondered what this young woman would be like, and how pleased to see her as the whole idea that she would be taking her for a visit had been covered with the regular Asgardian bombast. *Earth

January 2020 History Study Group "This text is nonsense," said Eira flatly, setting down their European history book and looking at the other students she'd been assigned to work with bored contempt reflected in her wide blue eyes. "Two thousand years of Scandanavian history and they are obsessed with three hundred years of Vikings. Dum," she pronounced in Swedish with authority. "If you actually want to learn about Nordic history, you should do your own research."

North Bay, Freedom City, New Jersey Friday January 31, 2020 4:21 PM Lulu Beaumont turned the BMW SUV onto small road that led back to the Harrows’ mansion in North Bay. Tonight Megan and Robert had an event to attend, so they had asked Lulu to be home to watch Lawrence. They had agreed to allow Adam to join her as well to watch movies and otherwise hangout while keeping an eye on the twelve year old. The two teens had left Claremont not long after classes had finished for the day. The Harrows' home was a large mansion set well off from the main road, a long driveway leading up to the front. Hedges ran alongside the road, although not so tall that one could not see more of the grounds beyond. There as a large, well groomed garden to the right of the driveway, and open grounds to the left that stretched back around behind the mansion. The home itself was of a classical style, one that would like right at home on some English estate. This was not Adam's first visit to the home of Lulu’s foster parents. The family had invited him to join them for Thanksgiving back in November and had been very warm and welcoming to Lulu's boyfriend.

Wednesday January 22nd 2020 11:13AM EST 42 degrees Freedomheight Light rain wind gusting to 30 mph offshore Skies over Kingston Over the abandoned homes, squatters, and bold rebuilders that comprised Kingston now the rain fell in the kind of lazy drizzle that said even it didn't want to be out in this weather. Those too proud or too poor too flee the ruined suburb went about their days heads down and focused on the next step and getting in from the blustery wind and chill wet that coated the near empty streets. High overhead the clouds, or space itself twisted and through the rent between worlds something emerged unnoticed by those below. That wouldn't last long. The Unbreakable Kronk emerged from the twisting rift in the warpwold his transit beacon giving off a foul acrid smoke and letting out a high pitched keen before falling silent and still no matter how hard he tapped the display. Against the backdrop of the dark clouds the black and chrome of his wyldride was but a shadow for any soul who looked up. Of course dimensional transit by such crude means would have alerted many looking for such things or sensitive to the warp and weft of the terminus and the fallen worlds it left behind. The bulky rider looked out over the city trying to get his bearings and soon his eyes fell on the doomforge, apparently unguarded but for distant proles far below. With a wild whoop and bellow far below the hearing of most humans reverberating off the clouds above he charged the cannon mounted in his sidecar and gunned the engine of the inter-dimensional bike the repulsors leaving a golden afterglow in the skies above as he angled for attack, "EAT MOLTEN DEATH YOU GLORIFIED TIN CANS" Kronk boomed as he unleashed a blistering burst of charged particles from the scavenged ship cannon mounted at his side. With a crashing boom the sky was lit by the stream of energy as it crashed into the nihilor steel of Doomforge sending arcing lighting crawling the dormant buildings armored bulk. With a mad laugh the biker swooped past and turned about angling for a fresh attack heedless of the panicked proles below fleeing from his assault, "COME GET ME DRONES I GOT A FRESH SPOT JUST FOR YOU!" he challenged slapping the side of his bike where he'd meticulously painted miniature Omegadrones for each confirmed kill.

January 2020 Eira sat in the library meeting room, staring at the closed door. The lights were off and it was quiet, and she had arrived several minutes early for the Orange Squad meeting. She was wearing an oversized blue hoodie and jeans, a concession to the relative cold that her robotic nature didn't actually require. This would be the first time she'd met most of the Orange Squad, the team to which she'd been assigned upon her admission to Claremont - an admission made possible by her parents connection to the hero community and substantial wealth. It was team-building day.

Ranger Station 5 Tsavo National Park, Kenya 27th January 2020, 9am EAT It was rainy and overcast over the Savannah but it was still going to be a hot, humid day. As the animals and tourists began there days. Most of the Ranger Stations, that were being used, were still opening up but not Station Five which was active even this early in the day. Which was weird because it wasn’t usually used for the reason that trouble very rarely came from the border it was close to, probably one of the safest borders in the entire region. This was the reason that Chief Ranger was nervous because someone very import from that very country had arrived, to help them with there problem. “I’ve never met a real princess before!”

January 2020 Claremont Academy Chemistry 102 "I am Eira Katastroff Natt och Dag. I am from Sweden." Standing at the front of the class, Eira stared straight ahead and recited much the same speech she had in every single one of her classes that day, her calculatedly blank face belied by the anger burning in her words. When she was done, she walked back to her seat and sat down, crossing her arms over her chest and giving the teacher an unblinking blue-eyed stare. When their teacher stopped her lecture early to break the students up into lab partners, the new student smirked faintly before cracking open the handout to look at their assignment instructions. There'd been some talk of picking lab partners for this activity, but the idea didn't seem to be on her mind even as the other students began the cautious reunification that comes with the first day of class. "Papper," she muttered she paged through the two-page handout. "Dum."

January 2020 Claremont Academy Amid all the hubbub and bub of learning the secrets of various friends, and going on cosmic adventures with other friends, Crystal-Gazer had almost (but not quite) missed the fact that she'd technically been without a room-mate for the entire fall semester. There'd been a conversation before break about how she was going to have a new room-mate after the Christmas holiday, a girl from Sweden named Eira, but that was about all she'd heard. Now it was move-back-in day after the break, and she was set to meet her new room-mate for the first time. She was on her way down the hall to her room, the hallways full of students, parents, and even the occasional friend, when she overheard an argument coming from her open door - an argument that she couldn't understand. First came a man's voice, an older one. Someone not quite yelling but certainly speaking with authority, in a language that she couldn't immediately understand, a feminine voice about her own age. Then another voice, a woman's, as upset as the man's. It wasn't quite loud enough that people were coming to investigate but they were certainly listening. Turning the corner and stepping into her room, she was confronted with two people, no - three? The first two were easy enough to understand. A man in a shirt and slacks that were too expensive to be as casual as he wanted to look, the sort of middle-aged that's beginning to turn into a paunch, a blonde mustache turning to grey on his face. The woman next to him looked much the same, her blonde hair cut short in a pageboy, jewelry on her neck and hands, looking more like a college president than anything else. At Lulu's arrival, they turned to her and smiled politely. "Hello," said the father, "you must be...Lulu?" his accent in English was distinct, but his command of the language fluent. The third occupant of the room stared at Lulu, her pale cheeks flushed from anger. She looked like a punk, hair dyed blue and face pierced, and the only piece of furniture she'd brought with her was a single valise she'd left on the vacant desk on the other side of the room. She said nothing...and thought nothing. As far as Lulu could tell, there was nothing there at all. "Aren't you going to say hello, Eira?" asked her mother. Eira rolled her eyes and fired something off that made her parents glare at her. With a sigh, she turned her attention to Lulu. "Hello. What are you in for?"

Fennic Town, Temuera II, Lor Exlcusion Zone, 13.0.7.3.1 The planet Temuera sat on the edge of the Lor Republic, a blasted rock that was barely able to support life. It would probably have been of no interest to anyone but the Science core if it wasn’t for the deposits of Tepeyoite a glassy mineral with numerous uses in high tech equipment. Hence places like Fennic Town had popped up around the more generous veins of the mineral. Beneath the blasted surface of the planet however there was secrets long buried bought to light but the miners that didn’t know what they had discovered. Other did however and raiders had arrived to try and claim these sites, and the precious minerals, to try and profit with those that would purchase such things. The raiders needed to be stopped so through all the subtle channels a call had gone out for heroes, as rough and ready as needed, to help defend the people of this nowhere planet.