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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!”

GM Nestled in a clearing off some forest roads in rural Alabama, Dixon’s Travelling Carnival brought the night to life with bright lights and loud noises. No one could remember, exactly, how the carnival had gotten there, for even people living nearby had heard no signs of cars nor the machinery necessary to set up the rides and other amusements. Nor could the sheriff remember any permits being granted, but when he checked, he found them supplied several months ago, with all the correct signatures. Many had chosen to stay away, calling it all “too spooky”, but even more decided to throw caution to the wind, visiting the mysterious carnival to see what the hubbub had been about. Interestingly, this was not the first place Dixon’s had been. It had first popped up in Montana, then after that was seen in Texas, followed by Louisiana. Now it was here in Alabama. And coming with it was a challenge - face the Painmonger, and win a grand prize of $20 million. The Painmonger was a wrestler, one who specialized in taking down superpowered wrestlers. So far, 30 challengers had faced him, and all had failed. Some said the challengers came away strange. It was enough that Brom Steele, a professional wrestler famous for taking all sorts punishment with nary a scratch had decided to investigate. That was two weeks ago, and now he was missing. None knew what had happened to him, and the carnival claimed ignorance. It seemed like someone else would have to take up the torch of investigation. But who?

November 28, 2019 The voice on the municipal defender line is short, to the point, and familiar. "This is Woodsman. I need a municipal defender in Cluet Farms at 304 Polk Boulevard. Come quickly. Do not bring first responders. Not safe."

GM Egyptian Airspace, 30 minutes from Cairo Friday, April 18, 2019 (1:20 PM local time) A Danger International private jet soared above the light cloud cover over northern Egypt as it entered its final approach toward Cairo. The sleek aircraft began a gradual descent as it continued on its flight path, transporting a rather unusual group of passengers to the ancient city. It had been several months since a group of Thule Society sorcerers accompanied by several enhanced SHADOW clones had attempted to steal an ancient Egyptian artifact during the opening of an exhibit at the Hunter Museum of Natural History. What the Thule Society had not accounted for was the presence of three Claremont students who had been able to halt the theft. But as the remaining Thule sorcerer had escaped, he had made a cryptic remark about artifact, suggesting that there it possessed some secret the teens were unaware of. Two of the teens, Veronica Danger and Elizabeth Grey, had been able to confirm that the artifact (the burial mask of the Pharaoh Sanakht) resonated with magic and that it was some sort of key. But despite their best efforts to research what that might mean, they still did not know exactly what it was a key to. So over the last few months Danger International, with some assistance from the Dakanan Royal family, had made arrangements with the Egyptian authorities to allow for an investigation of Sanakht's pyramid at the Saqqara necropolis. Permission had not been obtained until after the start of the new year, meaning Veronica, Elizabeth and Kam Kingdom had to wait until Claremont’s Spring Break to take the trip to Egypt. The interior of the jet was rather luxurious, with each of the teens having a large leather seat with plenty of room around them. The seats rotated so they could turn to face the middle and each other to more easily converse about the expedition they had set out on, or could turn out towards a small table next to each of seat (with connections for laptops and cellphones).

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."

GM August 20, 2019 A barrier island off the coast of Freedom City 6:00 AM This was it, the fateful hour. The morning fog rolled over the barrier island, the waves calm. Rising up from the island’s rocky surface was the vessel that would take the fateful group up to the Moon: The Peregrine. Standing tall as a building, it looked like a rocket ship out of Buck Rogers, tall and thin and cast in chrome. An extendable stairway lead into its interior, inviting the people on the surface to step inside. In front, a crowd of heroes had gathered, dressed in space-suits. Rachel stood out front of the Peregrine, dressed in a labcoat and holding a datapad that she was going over intently. She paced, occasionally looking at the heroes, then at the rocketship. She sighed sharply through her nose, then nodded to herself. Stowing the datapad, she clapped her hands together. “Alright! So, I’ve quintuple checked everything, and it looks like we’re cleared to go. Just some things to cover. Flight up to orbit is going to take 3 hours, then making it to the Moon will take another hour You won’t have to do anything for the first bit, I’ve installed a guidance system. One reinforced against psychic interference, this time. However, our pilot,” she said, looking over to Black Mamba, “will have to guide it down to the surface. I’ve deliberately made the controls easy and familiar, so you shouldn’t have any problems. If you’re attacked, I’ve installed Photon Cannons. However, I would be careful, if you fire them in our atmosphere you could cause a fireball. The firing mechanism is very clearly labeled.” She gestured at their space-suits, red ones that were similarly retro. “Your space-suits are state-of-the-art and tailored to what I know about your powers so you can use them. For example, Fast-Forward’s suit has been implanted with a reactive graviton array that will allow him to use his speed powers as though he was in normal gravity. Similarly, I’ve developed a field generator that should allow Archer to use his bow and arrows effectively. The same goes for the rest of you. I’ve tried to account for everything. More than that, your suits have a nano-array that should allow them to quickly seal if you’re hit, so no worries about suffocation. There are limits, though. Take too much damage and the nano-array won’t have enough material to repair. Life support is good for 72 hours, so if for some reason you get blown away into space, we have time to retrieve you,” she said. “I will not be joining you up there, sadly. But I have an FTL-communication device set up that should mean I will be able to communicate with you instantaneously with you wherever you are, as long as you don’t all decide to like… visit Mars or something. Please don’t do that.” She paused, and then tilted her head. “Alright. Any questions?”

Claremont Academy, Room 203 8:30 PM, August 28th, 2019 It had been an eventful first day back to Claremont. So many new students, so many new friends, and then, of course, there was the whole issue with Leroy and Judy and the ill fated marriage proposal, and Micah getting caught in the middle of all that. Pan had wanted to know more from his friend, but, as he had suspected, Micah had not wanted to share too much in front of everyone that had shown up on the rooftop, so he had decided to wait. The Forever Boy had his own ideas about Micah's frustrations, of course, but was there any point to him just blurting them out, aside from scaring Micah off? No! Of course not! It was still light outside when they reached their shared room, even as the sun was slowly setting and the first stars were beginning to appear on the sky above. Pan's side of the room was, of course, quite a mess. Not that he had many belongings, but the ones he had managed to accumulate with the extradimensional student funding was strew across his chair, desk and bed, including clothes, bags and various trinkets he had found interesting, including a ship in a bottle that was currently on his bed. Slipping out of his shoes, he stretched and took a few steps up, away from the floor, just to stretch, before calling out to his friend. "Well then, time to get to business, no? Is there anything about Leroy, Judy and you that you need to get off your chest, my friend?" His voice was calm, reassuring. He was here to help, after all!

Bedlam First Assembly 9PM October 30th 2018 Light Rain Dr. Thorne sat nursing their drink at the dinner where their prospective, client? informant? had requested to meet. The girl had sounded scared, genuinely scared, but determined and thought the PI might just be able to get what she knew to the right kind of cops. Outside in the spotty glow of failing streetlights the occult investigator could make out the knot of hardened looking young men paying a bit too much attention to the diner. Perhaps looking for victims, perhaps trying to screw up the courage to knock over a place under the protection of one of the families. Mr. Strix had stalked, followed, the group after he'd seen the handoff of clean and disposable guns in an ally a few blocks away. They had kept to the better traveled streets not giving him alot of room to find out more but that kind of hardware was not the sort of thing for a casual carry. They intended to use it. Pastor Theo set the last of the chairs up on the table in the churches small community room. The last of the NA attendees were vanishing into the cloud of cigarette smoke that lingered outside every meeting of this sort. Event he chill rain wouldn't stop them, though one supposed it was mostly better than the less legitimate vices they were trying to kick with varying degrees of success. It was like the weather. I night that seemed to be holding it's breath. Not quite still but with an air of something to come. And then it did, in a flash of dirty scarves and worn sneakers the girl spotted the gangbangers ont eh corner and bolted nearly knocking more than one off balance junkie off their feet as she sprinted for the closest thing to sanctuary in a town like Bedlam. A church. Most of the gangs were just superstitious enough not to try anything in a house of god, most of them. Across the street Thorne and Strix saw the gang member move into action the jumpier one flashing enough of his new iron to have the junkies and other patrons clearing out before they became victims, or worse witnesses. While a pair headed around the back and a couple fanned out to watch the street in each direction just in case the apparent leader approached the door grinning through a mouthful of fake gold. "Eh man, you see my sister eh?" he snickered not even trying to hide the lie, "She need get home real quick momma gonna be worried where she get to."

Lassin Prime Outer length of the Perseus Arm, inside Khanate Space Lor time mark 1629.3 [December 5, 2018 (Terran Calendar)] Since the Andromedan General Giirok had been sold into the gladiator circuits within the Stellar Khanate, he had participated in matches on a number of planets, moving to a new one when he had reached the pinnacle of a particular circuits’ competition. He had arrived on Lassin Prime less than six standard galactic days ago after he had run out of challenges on the last world. He had thus far spent his time on Lassin Prime training and acclimating to its climate. Located toward the center of the Stellar Khanate, a large swath of the world along its equator had been cyberformed by the Communion. That portion of the world was currently being mined for the Computonium created by Communion cyberforming, and then undergoing re-terraformig to return the world to something akin to its former state. As a result, the remaining habitable areas of the world were located near each of the poles, meaning the environment was quite cold. Today was Giirok's first match in the Lassin circuit, which would serve to establish him and heavily influence the direction his time here would go. The towering Andromedan was standing in a large chamber behind two massive metal doors, the air chilled by the conditions outside. Above him Giirok could heard the thunderous applause and other sounds of the crowds, reverberating through the stone and metal of the arena. Small bared openings over a dozen feet off the floor allowed the sound of the announcers to carry into the room as Giirok stood waiting. "And now we have a special event. Two up and coming contenders that will meet each other for the first time." Said a male voice in Zulastian. "Recently hailing from the Hassan System, we have a towering insectoid known as the Andromedan Annihilator!" At his introduction, the two massive doors in front of Giirok began to slowly open, allowing more of the chilling air into the waiting chamber….

Summer 2019 Phoenix Federal Building As he waited for Lady Liberty to arrive, AEGIS Special Agent Jim Johnson stayed out of the sun. It was Phoenix in summertime, 85 degrees at 9 o'clock in the morning, and he was damned if he was going to let the teenage superheroine catch him sweating more than he already was. So he stood just inside the building's glassed-in door, waiting for Lady Liberty to make her appearance. With the channels the government had established in the superhuman community in the last year, it had been easy enough to send the message to Lady Liberty - please come meet with us at such and such a date at such and such a time, so we can discuss a matter of importance to you. He'd always been a fan of Lady Liberty, the kind of heroic legacy he'd hoped to embody himself as an agent of the United States government, and had made a study of the current one's predecessors before taking this particular assignment - straight from the Director, who'd gotten it straight from the President of the United States. He was sincerely looking forward to bettering the life of America's patriotic heroine - and making things run a bit more smoothly for everybody.

Serena’s Apartment, the Fens, Freedom City Saturday, August 17, 2019 (Serena’s birthday) Evening “Jenna, honey, I’m back with dinner,” Serena said as she muscled into her apartment, carrying a big bucket of fried chicken. She hadn’t been feeling like cooking, lately, not that she ever really did, and it was hard to figure out what the latest arrival to her home was into. Ever since she had taken Jenna in, it had all been touch and go. She flipped on the light to her apartment to see that no one was there. Then, she remembered. Jenna was over with Lester for the weekend to spend time with her little brother. Looking down at the bucket of chicken in her arms, she groaned. Well, I guess I’m having chicken for breakfast tomorrow, she thought to herself. Sighing, she tossed her keys onto the tiny kitchen counter, and wandered towards the fridge. Seeing the six-pack of Coors she had stored in there, she picked it up by the ring and flopped onto her couch, turning on the TV. Time passed pretty quickly. Serena’s pants were gone, she was on her tenth piece of chicken and her fourth can of beer. The lights were back off, and Aqua Teen Hunger Force was flickering on the screen. She giggled dumbly to herself at the stupid gags, eyes fixed to the screen. The fact that she was going to the Moon in 3 days was now far from her mind as she focused on the show instead. Raising the can of beer to her lips, she saw a small reflection in the glossy cover of the can. She blinked, and then turned around to see the person who had entered her house. Lynn? She looked down, seeing that she was in a grease-stained t-shirt, crummy zip-up hoodie and her underpants and flopped down off the couch. “AAAAaaaaaa how did you get into my apartment?”

Mid-January, 2020, 11.47 AM Claremont Academy, inner grounds The black monolith had risen with the white mist, the winter sunlight slowly blanching as shadows deepened and colours faded. From its sides dangled ropes of horned skulls, each the size of Dio, though that was hard to tell with him crouched behind Leroy, Judy, Ashley and Headmistress Callie Summers. Leroy's cousin had wanted to meet on the ship. Leroy had objected strenuously, and at length, and even just in its shadow the black-robed boy had grabbed Jusy's hand tight, face set behind a veil of black diamonds danging from a silver circlet perched in his long hair. "Adrian," he had whispered as the first skull came into view, "the Demon herself." He had called her that before, and other things as well, and as a diamond-shaped opening apleared and a wedge of cold crystal stretched from the wall, Judy felt his warm hand go cold and tremble. A wash of white glare spilled out, light like liquid pooling everywhere, obliterating all shadows and anything but the white. From it, three figures emerged. The first was skin and bone under a thin white robe, her grinning face lacking even eyesockets, though when she looked at you, you knew, This was the Lictor, Adrian's herald, a vampire and her oldest friend. Second was a plain white women in white armor, a bullethole in the forehead of her placid, half-asleep face. This was Claire, her nominal bodyguard. Last was the Demon, her round moon of a face scarred similar to her two-foot-shorter cousin. Square in her armor, her shoulders and back were bedecked with a furry white cloak. "A thousand thanks for your hospitality, virtuous guardians of the homeworld!" sang out the Lictor in a thin, reedy voice, "May I present the fearless, the unequaled, the conqueror of Hells, the Dhartarastra Adrian!" "Li!" Adrian sang out with a grimace, glancing curiously at the Primes, "Where can we talk? I'd like to get you back to your senses and back home sooner than later." Swallowing hard, Leroy looked at Summers like a drowning man grasping at a raft.

GM September 13th, 2019, 3:30PM 37°07'15.5"N, 55°57'24.5"W, the Atlantic Ocean The cruise ship Queen Anne's Revenge To travel with Queen Anne's Revenge was a luxury only the rich could afford. A giant cruise ship that toured the world, with stops in select major ports, it would at times spend weeks at sea. The ship was 1050 feet long, and 145 feet wide. It was not the largest cruise ship in the world, but it was one of them, at least. It had exactly 2500 state rooms, which, along with the ever present crew, meant that it could easily hold more than 6000 people at once. The ship were divided into 15 floors, all with an appropriate pirate theme. The dread pirate Blackbeard could entertain the kids while the parents played in the casino or used any of the cruise ships many other adult entertainment options. The two outdoor and one indoor swimming pool on the ship were always busy, with water splashing everywhere and children and adults both riding the water slides into the water, one that even stretched out over the side of the ship, the pipe being completely see through at that point in the journey. The crew of the Queen Anne's Revenge were, of course, all dressed in appropriate period uniforms, made up to be pirates. Which made it all the more shocking when, on September 13th 3PM, the ship's captain sent out cries for help to anyone within range. Pirates had attacked the ship, demanding the valuables or lives of all aboard!

Vibora Bay. Easton Tangle. Dragoneer’s Townhouse. It had been a few-ish days since the whole giant…zombie…lizard…thing…and Dragoneer was still just a bit cranky. It was all right, honestly, he’d had a concert and then a match so he’d been having a busy and productive night. But maaaaan, what a way to make your debut onto the scene. UDK was dressed as he always was, and was pacing in front of his own front door. He’d never admit it, but meeting new people was stressful. He never knew how they’d respond to his unique brand of personal charisma. The townhouse was full of his merchandise (posters, action figures, one standee, etc), with photos of friends and family (except those with the surname Maguire) scattered on the walls and tables. Hey, Niro? The invitations went out, right? I didn’t daydream that? Didn’t think about it instead of doing it? Niro Saki, bestest pal to the one and only Ultimate Dragon Knight, was seated on UDK’s couch, reading a thin paperback. He too, was dressed as he always was. Around him on a few tables was a lovely spread of refreshments. The bigscreen television was on but muted. He did not look up. No, Dragoneer. You followed through. I watched. UDK nodded and kept pacing. Cool. Cool cool cool. Cool. I guess they’ll…be here when they’ll be here. He blew air out through his mouth. Niro turned the page. A watched pot never boils. The moment I leave is when the first one shows up. Paranoia. Gospel truth. I somehow doubt that. Dragoneer stopped pacing. All right, I’ll…watch TV, I guess. He sat down in his recliner and unmuted the television for the latest celebrity news. Ironically, it was not news to him. Because it was about him and his move to Vibora. Click. New channel, hello sports.

Claremont Academy, Freedom City Early November Just Past Midnight The room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering of the screen. Mia rested on her side, dressed in a sleep-shirt and comfortable pajama pants. Normally, she just went with the t-shirt, but it was colder in Lulu’s room than it was in her own. Danica had to maintain a fairly warm temperature, after all. It was normally tolerable, but it was good to get out of it sometimes. Normally, the sound coming out of her laptop would have been Japanese, but she had been forced to agree to use the dub this time. It was a concession she was not entirely happy about but she agreed to it anyway. Not everyone tolerated her weeb trash, and besides, the screen wasn’t the biggest anyway. After a few moments, though, a thought passed into her head. She turned on her side, and looked over at Lulu. They had been through a lot. Even though the Black House had, externally, only had them in there for an hour or two at most, the interior made it feel longer. A lot longer. It had helped her build a stronger bond with the girl, and honestly, she liked hanging out with her even if they did seem to occupy really different worlds at times. “So,” Mia said. “You wanna go get high and maybe get a pizza or something?” she asked Lulu. “No class tomorrow or anything.”

GM The man who walked into Silberman's Books could best be described as "goth pimp with hipster garnish," the unholy union of a failed stage magician and an even less successful pick-up artist. He wore a long black velvet overcoat with puffy faux-fur trim, also in black. His slacks, suit jacket, and long-sleeved collared shirt were black as well, while his waistcoat and necktie were splashes of red. His dark hair was tied back in a braided pony-tail which almost reached his waist, peeking out from beneath a wide-brimmed black Stetson hat with a red ostrich feather stretching a foot and a half above and behind him. His beard was almost as long as his hair, waxed and styled in a pseudo 19th century fashion. He wore several fine chains around his neck, from which hung a giant gold pentagram and several different crystals. All of his fingers were covered with mis-matched rings. A pair of black snake-skin boots, polished to a high gloss shine, completed the ridiculous ensemble. The man clicked his walking stick on the floor as he strode up to the counter, swinging a briefcase with his other hand. The red-lacquered wood was topped with a silver handle shaped like a coiled dragon. He tipped the brim of his hat to the employee behind the counter and gave them a smug grin. "I'd be much obliged if you could point me toward the restroom, and if you could have a double espresso macchiato and your manager waiting for me when I get back. Assuming the beans are fair trade, of course." The man reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a metal calling card case, and a money clip bulging with a three-inch thick stack of folded bills. He pulled out an embossed white business card, and a hundred-dollar bill, and slid them both across the counter. "Keep the change. Buy yourself something nice." He winked. The business card read "HAWTHORNE BOOKS & ANTIQUITIES," with an address in Bedlam City, Wisconsin.

Saturday, August 3rd, 2019, 9:35 AM Riverside Park, Near Hamilton Planetarium Claude dialed back his pace, slowing down from the jog he was at to a more sedate walking speed. Ever since getting his current gig, Doc had drummed into him the importance of about getting a bead on your environment. Especially if you were going to be somewhere for any length of time. Coupled with wanting to get out of Jules' apartment for a bit Claude had chosen to take a morning run through the local park. His attire of jogging shorts and a simple white t-shirt kept him comfortably cool, while his headphones pumped out tunes to run to. The Bostonian had to admit it was a decent park, but the rookie guardian preferred unspoiled nature than carefully tended and shaped artificial constraints of man-made natural engineering. Still, the statues were nice and the Sentry Statue was an iconic landmark, even in the future. What wasn't nice was the oddly prevalent minor temporal anomalies he had ran into during his circuit of the park. The one nearby marked the third he had found today, this one in a flower bed that was doing an excellent job of confusing the local bee population. On their own, these minor anomalies didn't do much. They might make it feel like earlier in the day, temperature wise or slow down time so the plants matured slower. What made them truly dangerous is that they tended to move about and were attracted to each other, and when you got enough together that's when time storms started to form. Claude had once queued up temporal meteorology with the repository and it was like trying to piece together the remains of a taco warping through a tesseract: messy and disturbing. But when caught before then like now, they were easily dispersed. Stopping in front of the flowers, he knelt down as to tie his shoe and brought out his Isochronon. A button press later, the bees were now appeased being able to find their target. Mischief managed, he thought. A wry grin graced his features at the mental turn of phrase as Claude discretely pocked the Isochronon, went through the motions of checking his laces, and then stood back up.

GM October 10th, 6PM, 2019 Riverside, the docks, the cargo freighter Viper Star At the captain's shout, the previously stunned and frightened crew dove under railings, slid back hatches or simply discarded bulky survival suits to reveal the sleek, glowing and deceptively-primitivist designs of Dakanan technology. The rustic sound of their propellor cut abruptly, replaced with the distinct thrumm of a daka-controlled propulsion system. The formerly-leisurely pace of the Viper Star noticeably jumped, the freighter turning to head for the North Bay. "I'm sorry," Captain Imamba said, thoroughly looking it, "but we can't wait until everyone who needs our help can afford it. And I can't let loyalty to Dakana stand in the way of my duty as a thinking, feeling human being. Crew, attack!" The crystal arcs crackled, red light flashed, and the air filled with the muted roar of sonic pulses hailing down on the small group of students!

Saturday, November 8th, 8 AM. Claremont Gym. Bam. BAM BAM! Bam bam bam bam! Fists hit bag, footwork ensued, complicated, as the bulky Benny D'amato changed center line, stuffing his leading left hand at the face level in a drill that would make sense with someone else, as his right hand did two neat, sharp uppercut like hooks right at the floating rib area Then came a quick four punch flurry. Though him getting someone besides staff tended to prove tricky, and the fast kid showed why. He wasn't just quick. He was damn near sudden, and he hit hard. Precise. And he did this routine upwards to six times a week. The run. Then the drills. More running. More drills. This one changed though, as he wheeled to the human shaped dummy that was used for grappling, as he threw a feinting punch at it's face, and then shot down for a double leg take down, that he immediately floated over the dummy on impact into a mounted position, and he hammered at the 'head' of the the practice thing, before he rolled away, and pushed up and off of his rear leg for a superhero punch at another training bag. This drill down, he stood there, breathing hard as the alert went off from his bag at a bench, and he moved over towards it. Wearing a tank top, a pair of shorts, sneakers, and wrapped up hands, which fit his workman aesthetic. He picked up the watch, and pushed the button to turn off the alarm, before he moved to lift his water bottle.

Lantern Hill, the Morgan House Corner of Newton & Salem Noon, August 31st, 2019 Weather: Partly Cloudy, 80 °F, Wind ENE 8 mph The historic Morgan House stands out from the normal colonial and victorian era architecture prevalent in the Lantern Hill district as a testament to the American Craftsman style. On June 30th, 1908 the original colonial structure was blown apart by an explosion and the Morgan Family ultimately chose to build a new house rather than try to replicate the old property. The cause of the explosion still to this day has never been fully explained, with the current owner Thomas Morgan saying that his grandfather told his father it was 'probably something he was working on in the basement'. The Morgan family has always been known as innovators of some stripe with the majority of their wealth coming from a variety of small patents and shrewd investments. Still, being one of the old families of Freedom City has caused no amounts of rumors to exist about both the house and the family that resides in it. While the Morgan House is on the national historic location list, it is still a private property and entry is only allowed for friends of the family or approved guests. However, the current owner occasionally hold exclusive philanthropic parties at the location and has recently worked with the Freedom City Historical Society to make a personally narrated virtual walkthrough of the house available at the Clark House. Today however, the fact of the gate to the property swinging open to admit a pair of teenagers on a scooter would have caused some on the historical society to weep bitter tears of jealousy as they putted quietly onto the property and parked near the detached garage.

October 19th, 2019, late afternoon Claremont Academy auditorium, backstage "Whoof! That is some dust!" Leroy crawled laughing out from under a pile of fallen costumes and the hanger box they'd been stored in. In the dim, harsh light of prop storage the doublets, robes, hats, gowns and shawls seemed like a great sprawling mass of fallen humanity, struck down by some horror. The sleeves reached pitiably, shawls and hats created the shadows where faces might lurk and the robes and gowns hunched and billowed as if something was still lying within. Jumping lightly to his feet, Leroy beamed happily. "I did say we would find it, and behold: we have! Now, to select the costumes for the main parts. Jack, an oppressed farmer boy; Red Riding Hood, a child forced to care for senior citizens in leiu of proper civil programs; Cinderella, a scullion with aims to seize political power; and finally the Bakers, man and wife, seeking fertility assistance." Despite not really needing to breathe, Leroy took a breath. Smiling proudly at the titanic pile of costumes and random assorted clothes, he tossed off the robe he'd worn on the way with Max to the auditorium's backstage. Under it was his usual tunic and trousers, black and threaded with green and pink flowers. "What say we split up which character we pick for, Max? That way, we will bring our own tastes better to the fore." Kneeling at one side of the mountainous pile, he smiled across it to his schoolmate "By the by, what did you do to be set to this? I grievously burned my Farside Flan in Extrasolar Ec!" "I helped burn them." The great green dragon Dio shifted under the pile, revealing his reptilian face and spiny crest. He sounded not the least bit sorry.

GM November 3rd, 6.45PM, Out the back behind Golden Calf casino, Southside, Freedom City Wherever the kids in the red bandana masks and 'C' letter jackets had gotten the energy gun, it knocked the armored truck clean over and blasted a body-sized hole through the back. The wrecked vehicle skidded across the parking lot on its side, bills blasted loose billowing out of the smoking hole, propelled into the air by a fire set to the bales of green cotton. The guards scrambled out of the cabin, shaken but unhurt as they drew their weapons, only to be driven off by an energy blast detonating the ground in front of them. Darting out of their hiding places, the C's swarmed across the parking lot and tore open the rear door, hauling out stacks of the cash intended for the Golden Calf towering and blazing with yellow lights above them. Money poured into duffel bags, the kids adroitly avoiding the burned or burning cash.Aside from the bulky, crude energy gun that looked like it had been made out of junkyard parts, for reasons any Freedonian could figure out they weren't armed. Besides the crowbars and fairly good upper-body strength. Archer could hear them laughing and joking below. They sounded younger than he did, for the most part. The only exception was the one carrying the energy gun, also the only one unmaked. He looked like he was in his mid-20's, stout and sober, keeping a careful eye on the gang's surroundings.

GM Doctor Adriana Aparo stood in the cemetery outside the Saint Fabian's Catholic church on Stark Hill, holding two bouquets of roses, one red, the other white. She crouched down under the moonlit sky and laid each bouquet down in front of the two tombstones resting in front of her. The white roses, she placed upon the grass in front of "Father Rafael Giordano, Beloved Son, Dear Brother, Good Shepherd". The red roses, she carefully put in front of Rafael's neighbor, "Gaetano Giordano, Beloved Son, Dear Brother, Devoted Husband". Her companion and former sister-in-law, Flora Russo, extended a hand to help her stand back up, and then rested that hand on Adriana's shoulder, squeezing it. The two women exchanged a brief conversation as they lingered over the graves for a couple more minutes. Then Flora took Adriana's hand and walked her out of the cemetery. On their way out, Adriana stopped once, turning to look back over her shoulder. After a few seconds, she turned back and resumed her exit.

GM To the north lay Scarlet Hill, a name no one in Bedlam City used anymore, instead referring to both the hill and the mansions turned sub-sub-divided-apartments surrounding it by reference to the Country Club which sat atop it, looming over the south-eastern parts of the city. Both were saturated with diesel exhaust from the Rook Island port at the mouth of the Manitowoc River. To the south lay the freezing waters and hard-packed, littered sands of Graves End Beach. And between north and south lay Bedlam City's answer to Skid Row, the neighborhood known for its most famous boulevard, "Ash Street". Sitting at the foot of the hill, it was not quite as drowned in smog as the Country Club, the trees and grass, not quite as withered and lifeless. At least two out of every three buildings sat empty and abandoned. Homeless people were everywhere, taking shelter in every nook and collecting cans and bottles almost as soon as they were discarded. The only businesses seemed to be invariably overcrowded homeless shelters, thrift stores, and the odd convenience store. Even the check cashing and payday loan storefronts with their neon "We Buy Gold and Silver" signs that seemed to be on every third block in Wolverton and Hardwick Park were too extravagant for Ash Street. The odds seemed long, but the local fast food chain, Wunder-Chuk, was betting that there was an untapped market on Ash Street and in the Country Club. The grand opening of their new branch on Storch Avenue had kicked off earlier in the evening. Everything seemed to go smoothly until the "Clash of The Woodchucks". The local press managed to get their hands on the surveillance footage immediately, and had edited together and spread it like wildfire within an hour. On one side of the restaurant, the employee who had drawn the short straw and had to wear the Wally Woodchuck mascot costume walked up to the wrong little girl, mistakenly thinking he would make her laugh. Instead, she started bawling. On the other side of the restaurant, a true monster had appeared. Some sort of humanoid rodent, like a man with the head of a chipmunk, wearing a trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat as a comically ineffective ineffective disguise, had walked up to the outdoor seating area carrying a battered, bloody young woman in his arms. He laid her down on one of the unoccupied tables, tore a diamond necklace from her neck, and turned to leave before the young girl's sobbing seemed to get his attention. He ran up to the mascot, slashed at him with bear-like claws, scooped up the little girl, since identified as "Emily Petrovic", age six, and ran off with her. The mascot attacked by the "Woodchuck Man" was admitted to Downtown General with multiple lacerations, but nothing serious. He was being kept at the hospital while the doctors ran tests for any infectious diseases, but they expected to discharge him within the next couple of days. The battered young woman the "Woodchuck Man" had left behind, meanwhile, had been identified as Ashley Fairchild, age 21, a student at Belchner College. She was supposed to be starting her senior year in the fall, and she was engaged to marry her boyfriend, meat packing heir and fellow student Ethan Pfeffner. Now she lay in a coma at the Beth-El Hospital near Stone Ridge, and the doctors couldn't say if she'd ever wake up. Ethan had spoken with reporters, imploring anyone with information relevant to the investigation into his fiancee's assault to come forward. He made special mention of the diamond necklace the creature had stolen, stating that it was an heirloom passed down through five generations of his family. His grandparents offered a $10,000 reward for its safe return. The police were technically searching for the girl and the "Woodchuck Man", but the most and of the Ash Street residents saw of their efforts was a patrol car creeping by maybe once every half-hour. Even that was an unprecedented level of police presence in the area, but it was unlikely to yield any tangible results. As soon as they learned of the incident, Dead Head and Mister Strix had taken it upon themselves to investigate. Their first stop was the restaurant itself, now closed and mostly deserted, save for a single patrol car in the parking lot, and a couple of reporters and unpaid gawkers milling about.

November 9th, 2019, 5.22AM The tunnels below Claremont Academy A pair of mops and buckets filled with foaming water fell with a crash in front of Nicholas and Leroy. "Awright, cadets!" Basil Falks, scrawny and short as he was under a two-sizes-too-big set of overalls and a baseball cap that had once been blue, maybe back in 1970, still had an air of utter command as he leveled the two boys with his gimlet brown-eyed stare. "These are the evacuation and concealed movement tunnels! It's been my privilege to work in them for over a decade, but I'm getting too old to do it all by myself! That's why I picked you pups! Nick," he pointed a bony finger at the speechless spectrum-sensitive, "I know you can keep a secret, and you have a janitor's dedication and poise under all that shrinking violet business. Leroy," he pointed that same finger at the elegant otherworld prince, "you can carry things okay and I know Nick will keep you out of trouble. I don't have to repeat myself, but you will not speak of what you see down here on penalty of...on penalty of whatever it is I come up with later." "Now we're starting off with a very simple job: the exit passages out of grounds aren't much-used and need a little polishing up. I won't have some kid slipping on some patch of grease and getting eaten by zombies, no sir." He looked at one of the walls, tracing his fingers over the polished titanium, whispering "Never again..." He quirked his head like a bird at the two boys "Anyway, that's the long and short of it. Go right-left-left-left-back and you'll find the spot. Give a holler if anything's started living down there. Yes Nick, you can holler too, won't hurt my feelings to have repair work to do if it saves you kids a funeral. Now git!" With that, Basil turned on a dime and sped off down the hallways, the splendid lighting letting the duo watch him turn suddenly into a door that had definitely not been there when he started walking. Then they were alone. Picking up a bucket and mop, Leroy smiled at Nick. Even in the plainest clothes he had, a brown sideless tunic and heeled platform sandals, with his curly hair up in a bun, the clan-scarred and dragon-tattooed teenager cut an expensive figure. "So, good Nick, how wonderful to see you out of paracausal physics! Have you drunk deep of life? I will take the buckets, let us say, and you the mops?"