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April 2020 Outside Cuiaba, Brazil People think of Brazil as all Amazonian jungles and also the streets of Rio. Here just outside Chapada dos Guimarães National Park, though, both cities and Amazon seem far away - this is a place of rugged terrain with jagged cliffs and high waterfalls, with large red hills and sandstone cliffs towering thousands of feet in height rising in almost every direction. Normally it would be a gorgeous place to visit - minus the trail of destruction leading from Cuiaba towards the interior of the vast, rugged parkland "So you see," said Dr. Fraire, speaking by phone from the inside of her jeep, "we have a giant problem. The National Guard is already investigating what happened in the city but I think our lawyers will be able to tie them up for a few days. But if they get hard evidence that 'dangerous supertech' was being held in the city without their government's say-so, they could shut down every DI facility in Brazil!" The other voice on the line, the one who'd originally gotten the call, said "Why _didn't_ they know?" "That thing has been with us for almost seventy years, since Papa Danger's time!" said Dr. Fraire, who had not gotten a lot of sleep in the last few days. "Er, sorry, sir, but my records at the base said that information about "A Centurion Robo" was communicated to them all the way back in the 1940s; but there's been coups since then, and elections, and of course the museum fire..." She looked disconsolate for a moment. "If there were records, they've been lost. So we're in trouble!" So ended the last of Veronica's briefing about the recent breakout in Brazil of a twenty-foot, seventy-five year old robot cast in the brass and steel image of the Centurion! Danger family crises were a little different than who was going to water the lawn or feed the dog.

GM January 25th, Saturday, 2020, 11.55PM Outside Emerald Tower, downtown Emerald City, OR The last lingering, heartrending notes pierced the chill night air, and UK's violin went silent. For a moment, all around Robin was an almost sacred hush as the renowned string virtuoso stood to take a bow. In the glare of red lamps that had filled the night sky, held in place by repulsor bands that turned clouds of countless paper shells into magnetically-unified pieces of airborne art, Robin saw K looking almost uneasy at the awestruck hush. Above and about flitted the newsdrones, covering the MarsTech New Years bash while other electric eyes took in events unfolding across the Emeralds. Of all the crowds, though, this was going to be the biggest. There were familiar faces in the crowd, not like looming Chung was ever going to miss a chance to carry his "THE END IS NOW" signs where a camera was going to be, but on nights like this the comforting seas of familiarity was upset with crosswinds of newcomers, people who'd look at you funny and hurry on if you asked them how they werre doing. In that moment, though, all were united, Munchkin and outsider alike, by that same thrill through every heart. To make a sound would have been blasphemous. Max Mars broke the spell, jumping out of the audience and onto the stage beside K with a single bound, applauding furiously with giant grin on his face. "Yue Kei, everybody! All you shapes and flavours out there, give her a big 'welcome home' hand!" With admirable obedience the Emerald citizens cheered, the cold winter air blasted with steam from thousands of throats. In the heated shelter UK started, laughed despite herself, and bowed in rapid succession to different areas of the crowd. Max grinned like an indulgent father. Switching off his mic, he and UK exchanged a word, the young woman nodding and beginning to clear up her music and put back her instruments. As she did so, Mars went on blithely. "Nicely done! now, Kei has to leave us for the night, but stick around! Because on the stroke of midnight, as we enter a new year, I've got a little surprise for you...well, two surprises, but you'll see! Now, may I have a volunteer from the audience?" His brilliant green eyes scanning the crowd suddenly locked on Robin's. "Well hey-hey, Rob! Glad to see you could make it to another of my little shindigs! Like to come up?" he looked deeply chagrined as he added "I promise, no giant robots this time!"

Kingston, Freedom City New Jersey Late Fall 2019, 10:30 PM Since the Terminus Invasion of 2018, much of Kingston had consisted of ruined buildings and empty streets. Only the most minimal efforts to start to rebuild had begun, and mainly along the boarder sections with other North Freedom neighborhoods, leaving the majority of the center of the formerly historic neighborhood still largely abandoned and in shambles. Now, those that frequented the Kingston area were those that wished to be unobserved or otherwise isolated from the more crowded and active sections of Freedom City, while still maintaining a close proximity to the rest of the city. A small figure in a trench coat made its way through one of the empty streets in the heart of Kingston, moving among the shadows with a seeming confidence that there was nothing to fear among the dark ruins. The figured walked for several blocks along the cracked and broken sidewalks, stopping a few times to peer around towards the dark recesses of the nearby buildings. Eventually the figure turned into a dark alleyway and was seemingly swallowed by the darkness within. If anyone had been following the figure, it would have seemed they had vanished into thin air in the alley. However, the figure continued on its journey dozens of feet beneath the cluttered streets, moving along a path through the partially flooded sewer tunnels that ran under Kingston. The figure still moved at a steady pace, perfectly at home in the dark, damp confines of the sewers. After passing through several city blocks of tunnels, the figure came to a bend in a tunnel where a section of wall had collapsed, beyond was a larger open area that appeared to be a half buried subway station. Several tables of various shapes and sizes had been set up along one of the platforms and were covered with a variety of scientific equipment. Another section of the platform had been turned into a makeshift living area, with a bed and some other furniture set up. The entire area was partially lit by several emergency lights that had been placed around the platforms. The result of the makeshift lighting was that there were sections of the platforms that where relatively well lit, while the rest of the station was cast in shadows of various depths. The figure moved onto the platform containing the collection of tables, stopping briefly to look at some of the equipment as it went by, before coming to a mostly empty table. The figure sat a large duffle bag onto this table and began carefully removing various objects from within it. As the figure was focused on its task the almost oppressive silence of the chamber was interrupted by a cold voice from somewhere among the shadows. "Good evening Dr. Seidel." The figure quickly turned away from the table, scanning the illuminated section of the platforms, even as he edged towards some of the nearby shadows. "Who are you?" The man asked, his tone a bit surprise but not necessarily concerned or frightened. "Someone who has spent some time trying to locate you." The voice from the shadows simply replied. The trench coat clad figure identified as Dr. Seidel moved into one of the deep shadows near the collection of tables. "You will soon wish you had not done so." Dr. Seidel responded, his voice deepening and straining slightly as he did so. This was followed by a few pained grunts and groans before the shadows went silent. Then, a large figure could faintly be seen climbing among some of the shadows above the platforms lit by the emergency lights. "So, you can now change your shape at will." Stated the cold voice that again seemed to come from multiple directions at once. "All the more reason you will regret coming down here." Replied a deep, partially hissing voice from the large shape crawling along one of the uppers walls of abandoned station. "Perhaps." Replied the cold voice. "But I believe there is a way we may help one another with mutual goals." The large figures stopped, peering out to scan the darkest areas of around station with yellow reptilian eyes. "I suspect there is little you can offer which I will be interested in." It replied in almost a growl. "I believe we may help one another in striking out against the Second Raven." The cold voice replied from the darkness. There was a long pause as the yellow eyes of the large figure peered out at the shadows around the station platforms. "Go on, you have my interest."

GM The Nine Realms, The Branches of the World Tree Góa (March), Sól Hangs Triumphant (Noon) Our saga begins as so many others have began before. There were three young heroes. One was a prince, another a princess, and the third a faithful friend and mentor. From beyond the realms they would come to the mighty and all-encompassing World Tree Yggdrasil. For what cause you ask? A common one for a saga of young heroism. They intended to find a worthy foe and high adventure in the realm of the gods. But in what you ponder? In a dreki, of course! The great and fearsome winged fire beasts of Norse legend. And so they would travelling upon the rainbow light of the Bifröst and descend upon one of the smaller branches of the World Tree. From there they would begin their perilous journey to the fiery halls and mountains of Muspelheim in search of their blazing quarry. Or would they? There was no telling what kind of mythical beasts they would find and encounter along their intended path. Perhaps the Norns intend from something far stranger and wilder for this heroic saga...

March 21, 2020 DuTemps Castle "Kimber!" called Eira from the guest bedroom the Claremont girls were using to change. "I need your advice!" Technically the members of Orange Squad (along with her room-mate and her friend Pan) were here for diplomatic and professional purposes. True North, Canada's super-team, had recently teamed up with the British super-team Vanguard to battle the forces of the Fenian Liberation Army - the fight had been long, been hard, and it was all very interesting if you cared about the history of cross-Atlantic imperialism and the lasting legacy of American and British imperialism. But what was relevant right now was that in the aftermath of the battle in upstate New York, the teams had come to a neutral spot to celebrate, reconnect, and enjoy the hospitality of one of their richest American partners. It was a great opportunity to meet adult heroes from all over Europe and Canada, use the DuTemps pool - the big one, that the Deep One who lived here typically avoided because of its chlorination, get acquainted with the Claremont alums who lived in the castle, get out from under Claremont discipline under the watchful eye of adult heroes, and maybe hit the sound system and eat snacks while they were at it.

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.

Rooftop outside the British Museum London, Britain, UK Saturday, March 21, 2020 6:00 PM Early spring flowers had begun to sprout. The weather had begun to warm up. And crime had begun to spread out. It was the inevitable change of seasons. There were more people walking the streets as night was further away. Due to the fact that March was traditionally the windiest month of the year, Foreshadow's cape billowed in the wind as he hunkered over the rooftop. "Thanks for coming out, I know your kids probably have something fun plan for the holiday tomorrow. But, like I said I think this one might be up your alley." Foreshadow was referring to the fact that the British Museum of history had been robbed the previous night. Missing was a Scythian golden sword discovered in the 1980s near the Altay Mountain. With it was an aged book that was several hundreds years old with supernatural references to Pazyryk culture . The curator had refused to speak to reporters regarding the matter. Erick had informed Klara that the police had yet to find any leads. Even if it had only been a day. Less than 24 hours at that. A robbery wasn't exactly on the Ministry's workload, but Erick kept his ear to the street. They were to meet with the curator after museum hours.

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.

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 Jadetown, Emerald City, Oregon Friday, March 20, 2020 7:04:56 PM Xie Fan was a tall, well-built middle-aged man with a kindly face. He was normally one to wear a suit outside his family compound located smack down in the middle of Jadetown, but now the sleeves of his dress shirt was rolled back and the polka dot tie slightly loosened as he made his way on stage, a big grin on his face. Applause rang out from members of his family, his extended clan, and business colleagues and friends. You hear a whistle and shouted Chinese, probably from one of the more inebriated guests. Your audience was scattered around a large garden, mingling under the lanterns hung on trees that cast the party in a bright red glow, hanging around the small bonfire to warm themselves, or eating their dinner and noodles on the banquet tables. Toddlers chased each other on tiny legs as wizened old grandmothers and grandfathers sipped wine. A couple of bodyguards watched the proceedings at the edge of the gathering. The early spring air was chilly, not yet having cast of winter's cloak completely. Behind you, a banner hung between two poles, above the stage you stand on. Happy 50th Birthday Xie Fan! "Yeah! Haha!" Xie Fan waved at the crowd before he came to you, clapping you on the shoulder. "Okay. Let's do this." Time for your coup de grace.

GM The Painted Desert, Arizona October 3rd, 2019 14:00 PM Survival class, that was what the guest teacher had called it. If you were going to be a hero, then you could end up out in the middle of nowhere, and you needed to know what you could do to survive. The fliers on Blue Squad might have argued that they could just fly away, but the Doctor Alexander Macedon had not accepted any objections, and a day later, Blue Squad had found themselves in the Painted Desert in Arizona. They had all been given proper gear stuffed into heavy backpacks, and now they had been dropped off near the Rainbow Visitor Center by the van that had picked them up at the airport. Doctor Alexander Macedon looked like a man in the early 70'es. His skin was tanned by the sun, and seemed slightly leathery, from years of being out in the harsh sun. His thinning hair were grey, almost bordering on white, as was his scraggy, unkempt beard. He wore a black eyepatch over his left eye, with a pair of horn rimmed glasses over both eyes. A cowboy hat on his head, he wore a beige dress shirt, with the few buttons closests to his neck open, revealing his grey chest hair. He had rolled the sleeves up, with an brown bomber jacket stuffed into his backpack. He wore dark grey fatigue pants and a pair of heavy dark boots. Something about him made him seem even older, and one the way here, he had made it more than clear that he didn't want to do this or have anything to do with a bunch of super powered kids, but he owed someone a favor. Standing by the side of the road in front of the teens, Macedon held up a map, making sure they could all see it. "Listen up, kids. This map is our only clue to where we're goin'. We're gonna be crossing through the Painted Desert here, and we're gonna survive off the rations you've brought and what we can find, but make sure you don't do anything to harm the nature around here. No smashing rocks with any of your fancy gadgets or powers or anything like that. We're gonna go off road, and gonna end up at the Painted Desert Visitor Center, with some stops on the way. It's gonna take a while, so save on those rations." He made a short pause and lowered the map. "Now, who's up first for learning how to read and follow a map? Yer all gonna get yer turn."

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...

The Theater District Freedom City, New Jersey.Tuesday, March 17, 20207:00 PM The theater district was adorned with flyers, streamers, and balloons all in varying shades of green, white, and orange. There were carts full of vendors using the opportunity to sell their wares while relying on the theme. Tattoo artists giving temporary sidewalk tattoos. As the largest concentration of Freedom City's Irish community actually lived in the West End, it was clear that the celebration was mostly an excuse for young, rowdy, New Jerseyites to have a party. Floats advertising not only local artists and plays, but the handful of corporate organizers involved in sponsoring the event were making their way through the streets. The leader of the pack being of course Shaughnessey’s float. The local brew-pub had organized the parade. Partly as a 30th anniversary celebration of sorts. And mostly to drum up business. They had even gotten Jimmy Kirkpatrick, a municipal court judge to both speak at the opening and ride on the lead float. The age of the parade crowd ranged from late teens to early 30s, but most wouldn't have been able to pick Judge Kirkpatrick out of lineup unless they had one too many unpaid parking ticket. But, those who kept up with local politics knew that Judge Kirkpatrick was up for re-election. He was a portly man in his 40s with a tough on crime attitude that would make Gerald R. Baker proud. It was tough to say whether it was genetics or the stress of the job had begun taking its toll, but Judge Kirkpatrick's hairline had visibly begun receding. Though it was clear the crowd was mostly here for the second-most float from the front. The local band, Whipping Dave. With front-man Dave Tennet and the rest of the group standing on top of a giant leprechaun shaped float. The band wearing green, blaring their instruments was audibly getting more of a reaction than the pub sponsored judge.

GM The Emerald Cities, South March 21, 2020 Some time around Midnight The cargo came in at night. They always did. There was something cloak and dagger about it all, but Frank Pulasky was being paid well enough that he didn’t see much reason to care about that. He was content to ship the big, black crates from the dockside warehouse to the little shop down on the corner next to Daniken and Arnold every night while ignoring the strange lights he saw in the sky just before every deliver and the way the stevedores seemed to never say anything. He just wanted to do his job. Unfortunately for Frank, his partner Shawna was a little more curious. “You ever wonder what’s in those crates?” Shawna said as she climbed into the passenger side of the cab, slamming the door shut behind her. “Hell, even what they’re made of? It’s definitely not wood. S’like… Some kinda weird… metal… glass… thing.” Frank sighed to himself, gripping the wheel tightly. “Not really,” he replied, already wanting to leave the conversation. “I mean, it’s all kinda weird,” Shawna said, freeing her little gas-station coffee cup from its holder and taking a sip. “You think this is all legal?” Frank rolled his eyes as he turned the ignition, hearing the roar of the engine as the truck came to life. “Who friggin’ cares, Shawna? It’s not like we can pass up the money. Unless you suddenly won the lottery or somethin’, I’m gonna suggest you just be happy you got the work.” Shawna sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I mean, if it is illegal,” she began to say, but Frank interrupted her. “If it is illegal, then our legal defence is we didn’t know. We lose that defence if you keep bein’ nosy.” Shawna frowned, but had no retort. Frank took that as a chance to start moving. He pulled out of the dock, and turned out into the road. For a while, everything was blissfully quiet. Until he heard something go bang in the freight box. He cursed, and Shawna looked behind her as if she would be able to see through the metal. “We should probably check that,” Shawna said, frowning. “...I mean, probably something just fell over,” Frank said, gritting his teeth. “Which is bad, Frank,” Shawna said. “What if they get mad about broken goods?” Frank sighed. This time, he was the one without a reply. He ground his teeth and grumbled some more, before pulling into an alleyway and slowing to a stop. He glared at Shawna. “Alright, we’ll make sure nothing’s broken, but you,” he said, pointing at her. “Are not going to do any snoopin’.” Shawna rolled her eyes. “Got it.” Frank left the truck in idle, and they both hopped out. Wheeling around to the back, the duo flung open the door to the freight box, and immediately, they were illuminated by a green light. One of the black crates had shattered, and nestled amongst the wreckage was a glowing green orb the size of a bowling ball. Frank cursed, the light almost blinding him, but Shawna was transfixed. She climbed inside, walking as though possessed towards the orb. “What’re you doing?” Frank hissed. “It’s calling to me,” Shawna replied, her voice an eerie monotone. She picked it up, staring at it for a moment, before turning around. Frank saw, to his horror, that her eyes were now glowing the same colour as the orb. “Shawna?” Frank asked, stepping back away from the crate. “Can you hear it, Frank?” she asked. “It’s alive. It’s talking to us. It’ll give us everything. We just… Gotta get it out of here.” “I… think you should put it down, Shawna,” Frank said, climbing up into the box to try and take it from her. “NO!” Shawna shrieked, and suddenly, a pair of beams erupted from her eyes, striking Frank directly in the chest. His eyes went wide, and he went sprawling as he gawped down at the two new, smoking holes in chest. Shawna giggled evilly. “Yes. I see now. You’ll make me powerful. With you, I’ll conquer this c--” She didn’t have time to finish her thought. Another beam came, but not from her. The pain was only momentary before she fell apart into dust, the green orb falling onto the bed of the trunk with a heavy clang. Stepping out of the darkness and stowing his blaster pistol, Rojek sighed. “Humans are goddamned weak-willed,” he muttered to his partner. “Now we’re gonna hafta to drive the truck ourselves,” Rojek said. His partner, Ageda, smirked at him. “And you didn’t want to tail them,” she said as she hefted the lifeless body of Frank into the back of the truck. “I thought maybe at least something on this planet might not disappoint me for once,” Rojek spat as he kicked the orb. “Alright, let’s get this to the shop before we get in trouble.” “Just gonna leave the car?” Ageda asked. “Sure, why not,” Rojek said with a shrug. “We can just steal another one if we have to. Clunky pieces of crap are everywhere, here.” Ageda giggled to herself, and climbed into the cab, and as she did, her appearance became that of Shawna. “Whatever you say, ‘Frank’.” Rojek rolled his eyes as his appearance turned into Frank, and he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Friggin’ Earth.” They drove off into the night, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash. Before anyone found or saw them, Rojek and Ageda were long gone.

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 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!"

Big Em and The Bling were hunkered down in the canned juice aisle of the Good Fortune grocery. It was a small Chinese supermarket store ran by a family of second generation Half-Chinese/Half-alien cryptids. The food options ranged from typical supermarket fare to interstellar imports. Music was playing throughout the store drowning out the sound of the blaster fire that the pair was avoiding. As the two detectives stood and began fanning out to flank the gunmen cans of juice visibly exploded across the aisle. The store then began violently trembling. An ill-timed earthquake began to rock the premises of the small supermarket. Knocking down the aisles and forcing the superhero detectives attention away. Big Em Held back the frozen food aisle from crushing a little girl who had been staring at ice cream. Whereas Bling stopped a full grocery cart from hitting a woman with a wall shaped construct made of light. The lights began to flicker with the music dying out. By the time the scene settled it was clear that entrance had collapsed on itself. With no robbers to be seen.

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.”

GM Millennium Mall, Midtown, Freedom City 5:30 PM, November 15th, 2019 A rainy Friday afternoon, and Millennium Mall was packed as usual. There was a certain feeling in the air. Everyone was moving around in groups, even tighter than usual. Even through laughter and crying children, everyone hurried between the shops and stuck together, casting nervous glances about. During the last month, five people had gone missing, all disappearing within the vicinity of the mall during the evening. Everyone was hurrying to get home before it was too late. No one wanted to stick around, deals or not deals. That kidnappers had made no demands, and had not been seen. All that was found on the scene after a disappearance was a single silver ball, small enough to fit in a hand. And on this particular evening, several visitors to the mall would be finding similar balls all over the mall.

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.

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.”

The Fens, Freedom City, New Jersey Tuesday March 17, 2020, 9:12 PM A light rain was falling on Freedom City this evening, making the cool night feel just a bit colder. Out in the dark streets of the Fens, the rain just added to the oppressive, downtrodden feeling that seemed to emanate from every dark alleyway. But from Jack Sounder, the Fens was the perfect place to seek to make amends for the mistakes of his past. Strolling down the sidewalk of the mostly deserted streets, Jack took in a deep breath, trying his best to take in whatever smells were not being washed away by the rain. Turning a corner, the former boxer and mob muscle spotted a group of four young men exiting a dark sedan further up the street. The four men moved with a cocky swagger that was all too familiar to Jack as they made their way up towards a small Mom-and-Pop corner store at the other end of the block. At least two of the young men had their hands in the pockets of the jackets in a way that made Jack certain they were armed…. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mali Benjawan was crouched near the edge of one of the three story tenements in the Fens, out on one of her regular patrols of one of the more run down and crime ridden parts of the city. But so far the unpleasant weather seemed to be keeping troublemakers indoors. Just as Mali was starting to consider heading back to the Du Temps building, she spotted a group of four young men making their way to the entrance to a small convenience store. While they could well have just been a group of friends looking to buy some drinks and snacks, something about the way they moved and carried themselves made Mali study them a bit closer. As she watched, they drew close to the door and she saw one draw out a handgun from the pocket of his jacket as they made their way inside….

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."

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!”

GM DeCosta Construction Site, corner of Shelley and O'Donnel August 30th 8:30 PM The invite had gone out online, on all kinds of different sites. A few local news sources had even reported on it, though few had taken it seriously. Posted all over walls around Southside. The exact wording was different, but the intent was quite clear: The Contenders, a group of old 80's and 90's villains, and they'd gone mad at Facsimile. They never said why, aside from wanting to take him down a peg. They were gonna show the world that they still had it, that they could fight one of the brand new heroes of the modern day. Meet them at the DeCosta Construction site, or they'd find him and take out wherever he lived. If anyone else tried to interfere, they would blow up a nearby school. Easy, right? Quite a number people had gathered around the makeshift ring that had been set up in the middle of the construction site, though they all kept a good distance from the five men by the ring. Four of them were all obviously past their prime, but otherwise, they didn't share much in terms of looks. Heavyweight, a large, overweight man with drooping features, like his entire face was being pulled down, clad only in red and blue pants and boots. Fly-Boy, a grotesque creature, a man with the eyes of a fly, barbs on his long, thin arms and fly-like wings. He was dressed in a yellow and red one piece costume. The third, TKO, looked normal, with long black hair with some specks of grey, dressed in a grey dress shirt and black slacks. He looked around at the crowds with a smirk. The fourth was Bear-Knuckle. A large, powerfully built man. Balding, but with long brown hair and a large moustache. From around his shoulders, his arms looked like those of a bear. Where TKO's grin was one of amusement, his held far darker intent. The fifth and final was a young man in his early twenties, sitting by a table with a laptop. "About time, right? Think he's gonna show?" TKO asked, while looking at the crowd. Bear-Knuckle's grin widened. "Sure. If not, there's always all of these kids to play with."