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GM Pacer would be running. Of course she would be. After all, that was the entire reason that she had been chosen for this. A blur had raced past, and she had heard a single sentence spoken, with a voice that was almost like a whisper. The accent had been strange, nothing she could place from anywhere she had run to on the Earth. The message was simple, and yet enough to attract her attention: "Catch me if you can." Then she had seen the blurred being rush past her in a straight line. The other runner had the headstart, but she was slowly catching up, and she was starting to spot him. A golden blur, leaving behind a trail of sparks. Like a lighter that failed to ignite a flame.

Saturday, May 18, 2019 Bayview Heights 9:53 PM Miracle Girl It was quite a warm evening, considering it still was the middle of May. Which was a good thing, because the outfit that Casey was wearing wasn't exactly winterwear. Sure, her powers meant that even if it came down to it, the cold wouldn't be too bad, but the warmth was appreciated nevertheless. It wasn't her own outfit. One of the other girls in her sorority had gotten an invitation to an "exclusive party" up at Bayview Heights, and had decided to bring-slash-force Casey along with her. The invitation, quite a fancy letter, specified goth outfits, but fortunately, her housemate could provide one of those. And so the two of them made their way up Bayview, having been dropped off by a friend who was visiting her boyfriend who lived nearby. The party was held in one of the mansions that dotted the area. As Casey and her friend approached, it was quite apparent which mansion. Although officially the party only started at 10, it seemed that quite a few people had arrived earlier, as faint music could be heard (even with just human hearing), and through the windows, one could spot the changing colours of lights, synced with the music. The gate to the driveway stood open, and on it, a few people were chatting amongst themselves – all dressed in goth style clothes as the invitation had specified. Up by the door, the doorman stood, staring into the distance blankly. Dead Head Burt had been tracking this particular case for a few weeks now. It was quite a peculiar one – he'd essentially stumbled across it on accident, it was different from what he'd seen in his long career, yet most of its individual aspects seemed familiar. The latent magical energy that was just part of living in Freedom nowadays – especially ever since the last Invasion – showed more disturbances than usual. And the fact that cemeteries were involved in a lot of them meant that this was firmly in Burt's domain. But finally, he'd found a solid lead. It was more of a hunch, really. But it was a hunch that seemed about right, because energy was gathering in one place, streaming in from all over Freedom and even beyond. It was subtle, and Burt probably wouldn't have noticed it had he not visited a few cemeteries right after one-another on a patrol, but something was here. Inside this manor, which seemed to be hosting some kind of party. Was it related to what he was investigating? Perhaps.

Saturday, May 5, 2019 It was not exactly an invitation anybody would expect to receive in 2019. An invitation for the opening of an arcade, "Ectoplasm", in Riverside. Delivered in a letter, which also included a special deal for "those specifically invited". All of that strongly hinted at this being some kind of scam, by somebody who had clearly lived under a rock for the past 20 years. The layout and quality of the invitation, as well as the fact that, judging by the online buzz this "Ectoplasm" was receiving – by legitimate websites and blogs, too, suggested otherwise. And with nothing else going on that weekend, there was little reason not to attend. Whether it was out of genuine interest, out of curiosity, or out of wanting to see just how scammy this actually was. The location was quite nice, not far away from Riverside Park, with the waterfront of the district just about visible down the street. From the looks of the building, the Arcade was built into what previously was a restaurant, something the other restaurants along the street further suggested. Quite a line had formed outside, with everything from teenagers to hipsters to what probably were a few arcade enthusiasts of the first generation, lined up and waiting. Off to the side, not indicated too well but noticeable to anybody with that bit of Claremont-brand perception training, was a second entrance, labelled "invited guests". And about there, the Claremont students also realized that some of their classmates were here…

April 2019 Common Room "Ah can't believe you did that!" Judy was steaming mad, heat coming off her in waves, as she jammed her hands down at her sides and yelled at her sister. "Ah can't believe you just stuck your nose into mah private life like that!" "...maybe I shouldn't have," admitted an unhappy-looking Ashley, who'd forsaken her sunglasses and looked sick to her stomach. "But I saw what he was doing to you, and I knew I had to say something." Maybe she hadn't had to say something, actually, but dammit she'd seen too many people push Judy around in the last year without anybody saying a word in her defense. Well why don't you say that out loud, a voice suggested, so you can get the hell out of this assignment and maybe this town forever! "Let's talk about this in our room," she suggested, a conversation changer that usually worked. "Oh, Ah think I know what you're going to say in there," said a red-faced Judy. "But it's not...it's not your place to tell me how to live mah life, anymore than it's my place to tell you how to live yours." She jabbed a finger at her sister and suddenly her voice broke. "And...and Ah want to be crying right now, Ashley, because Ah am so mad, but Ah can't even do that! Ah don't get to do anything Ah want!" Under normal circumstances, Ashley supposed she'd probably be at a pretty high risk of being fired right now, but haha, normal circumstances had been shot in the head and buried on the South Lawn for the last year and they weren't getting resurrected anytime soon. "I'm sorry," she apologized, hands in front of her and considerably softer than her usual tones. "But you know this isn't the place to talk about this." she added in a firm whisper. "Ah want you to go away," said Judy, raising her head and looking Ashley in the eye. "Ah want you to go outside this room, so Ah don't have to see you for a while. You told me Ah'd have as much privacy as you could give me, right? You are gonna keep your word to me, right?" "All right, Judy," said Ashley quietly. "I'll be out in the hall." Because she knew what was about to happen, she didn't tense when she heard Judy's shriek of alarm from inside the common room, just as she was stepping out the door. - Her face bright red, Judy looked down at the sole other occupant of the common room. "Omigod Danica! You were here the whole time! Ah'm so sorry!"

May 2019 Claremont Academy Dorms Night-time For once, Ashley was the one who was asleep - stretched out flat in her bed, wearing the fluffy flannel pajamas that Judy had bought her for her birthday, gun tucked under her pillow. The lights were dim, but that was no matter to Judy, who'd been able to see in the dark ever since the terrible day when her powers had developed. She had a heat-blocking sleep shield when she needed it, but she didn't need it right now - didn't want it, anyway. So Judy was awake, leaning back in her desk chair, listening to the noises of the city. There was a lot to hear. Freedom Cityians always seemed to have something to say to each other...

May 28, 2019. Freedom City. Bayside Mall. 2 AM. The police lights were bright as they hauled the weapons traffickers away. Terrifica was tired. She turned to go, and she was not alone. Her partner, Miracle Girl, was by her side. “That was profoundly annoying.” MG sighed. “Tell me about it. Did they really have to break out the-” “Heavy plasma cannon?” Terrifica indicated her half incinerated longcoat. “I believe the phrase is, ‘you’re preaching to the choir.’ I liked this coat.” MG smiled, amused. “No, I was talking about the electro mines. That last one hurt.” They reached the Terrifi-cycle, and Terrifica leaned against it. “They had more than one of those? I was too busy punching them to notice. Ah, and that reminds me. It was…ugh, three years ago now. Electro mines, gauss rifles, magnetic frag grenades.” She smiled while sighed contentedly. “I do so like it when the wannabes have a theme and stick to it. Do you remember?”

GM Claremont Academy April 23 2019 11: 45 AM Jhett yawned. He knew he should have at least tried to keep it in but at this point he really couldn't be bothered. He was bored even as he guided his group to the next exhibit in the school's refurnished Next-Gen wing and started reciting another pre-written lecture about the triumphs of the original team. "Right, so, over here we have a new holographic recreation of Next-Gen's first battle with the villain Chess Club. What a wonderful--" Jhett stopped for a second to lazily take garner at one of the cue cards tucked in his pocket. His other hand still pointed to a holographic Sonic destroying a holographic chessmen. "Example of the ingenuity and resolve of young heroes like us. I sure hope I can live to their noble example." The less than impressed expressions on about dozen of his classmate's faces made it blindingly clear to him that they were either as bored as he was or very unhappy with his lack of typical tour guide enthusiasm. Jhett told himself that he didn't care either way. His volunteering to be the guide for Claremont's glorified trophy room for the first Next-Gen team was just his way of getting another good looking bullet-point on his resume when he finally graduated from Claremont and tried to get into a normal, if hopefully very prestigious, tech university. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little bad for boring his fellow students. It wasn't as if they had a lot of choice in being here after all. Exasperated with himself and the tour, Jhett finally threw up his hands. "Look guys, I know this isn't the Danger Institute or Freedom Hall or whatever, but we got to get through this, OK?" He admitted honestly. "Headmistress Summers expects me to lecture you all until lunch about all the new stuff they added here since the Krampus trashed it last year and I sure as Hell don't want to disappoint her... She's kind of scary." There were a quite few snickers and eye-rolls from the crowd after that outburst but Jhett took them in apathetic stride. He'd probably be doing the same if he was on the other side of this. "You know what? Talk among yourselves while I waste fifteen minutes of everyone's time. I don't give a damn and only need you physically in the room. Just don't tell Summers or any of the faculty, alright?" The sound of teenagers suddenly breaking out into several dissonant conversations was all the Jhett the assurance needed that he was probably in the clear. Jhett signed as he moved the loud group to the next exhibit on their list. It was times like these when he prayed that another Krampus would show up and save him from the tedium. Anything was better than this.

... All be aware that a special transdimensional craft, the Seeker of Perpetual Harmony [Image Enclosed] is active in the Sol system. A reward is offered for any data people can collect on the vehicle, especially if it can be convinced to return to the station. The vehicle isn’t dangerous but is single-minded in its mission across the dimensions... Praetorian Bulletin, CoVic Station Liberty Park, Freedom City, United States, Sol III System 09:00 EST 3rd January 2019 To those on the planet itself knew nothing of this craft, for all they knew it was a strange silver craft shaped vaguely like a Horseshoe Crab. Even though it was a new year it was more or less business as usual with the craft hovering just above the ground in Liberty Park. Apparently, it was waiting patiently for people to turn up to investigate its sudden arrival in this local. Not that it had to wait long in a city of heroes...

GM March 5th, 2019, 6.45AM Columbia River, between the Emerald Cities, USA The fog had been creeping in from the sea for hours now, until at last even Emerald Tower vanished. Silently, without fuss or hurry, the mountain of vapor muffled out the distant roar of the two cities, softening the world into a cold, wet blanket. The warning blasts of ships moving up and downriver blunted against the billowing clouds. The river itself had become dark and oily, lapping against the houseboat like gentle, insistent fingers trying to find a way in. The soft bump had gone almost unnoticed, but might have if not for the second, much stronger knock at the hull of the rocking house. With a ripple-less whisper, it emerged from the river. A slender creature, skin smooth and tough as a whale's, large eyes, fin-like fringes at the joints and crowing the head, webs between the fingers and toes suspending it above the water's surface with gentle, rhythmic strokes of its long limbs. "Mr. Kepler," it said in a soft, almost feminine voice, round eyes staring into his, "I am willing to pay several million dollars if you will represent my interests and meet with a dragon. Will you hear me out?"

GM Elysium Academy, Emerald City May 16th, 2019 11:30 PM Elysium Academy was as silent as one would expect during the night. The students, for the most part, knew better than to cause trouble, less they risk a punishment. And a pair of students were sneaking through the night, each independent of the other. They had both overheard Mr. Stark with Doctor Trine during lunch. Something about some important correspondence from "you-know-who". Very vague, sure, but also a potential clue. One that could lead to freeing students... or perhaps to the conspiracy behind the academy and the city itself? Neither knew the identity of the other. Neither of the two even knew that there were other rebels among Elysium Academy, but it seemed that on this night, Omen and the Bronze Hornet were about to learn.

April 2nd, 2019 "Sir, April Fool's Day was yesterday," the ArcheTech receptionist said, trying to keep annoyance out of their voice. "And that's in incredibly bad taste to-" "Yes, I know what yesterday was," Archeville replied calmly, "I am aware that the timing of this call is not ideal. But I am back in town, now, and this was the earliest chance I had to call to make an appointment to meet with Miss Americana. And she will want to meet with me, because-" It really was the first chance he'd had to call. He'd been in Freedom for about a week, intentionally keeping a low profile. He had already mended fences with one of the (former) Interceptors, and had a harrowing encounter while meeting with the Freedom League just yesterday. He was still shaken from that, but he knew he had much more to do, so he pushed himself on. And now he was trying to set up a meeting with the woman whom he had handed his company over to, which was proving about as difficult as he'd expected. "Because you're Viktor Archeville, founder of ArcheTech," the receptionist repeated. "Yeah, yeah, you said that already. Do you know how many people try to get to see her? And they pull off better stories than that." "I am sure that is the case," he replied, still calm and smooth, "but I really am..." Meanwhile, an automated alert had pinged Gina Evans. She had kept tabs on Archeville for some years after the ArchEvil incident, but eventually handed that over to an assortment of 'bots. So she was aware that Archeville had come back to Freedom, and was planning to meet with various folks, but not his exact schedule. The most recent ping alerted her that Archeville -- or at least someone claiming to be him -- had called in to ArcheTech, and was trying to make an appointment to meet with her.

GM Chelsea, London, England Sunday, December 17, 2018 7:31 PM local time The black London taxi pulled up in front of one of the large townhomes situated along Cheyne Walk overlooking the Thames. Christmas lights adorned the metalwork atop the low stone walls that ran alongside the sidewalk, as well as several of the trees and hedges in the small yard between the outer wall and the townhome. Robert Harrow, dressed in a dark tuxedo, was the first to climb out of the taxi, turning and offering his hand to first help his wife out of the vehicle and then their foster daughter, Lulu Beaumont. Megan was dressed in a long red evening down which accented her lean figure. The older blonde woman looked at Lulu with a warm smile. "Just remember to relax and be yourself and everything will be fine." She offered as encouragement. Robert gave Lulu a reassuring smile as well as he offered Megan and arm and then started the trio toward the front of townhome. The sounds of music and many voices could be heard coming from the home.

Claremont Academy Early January It wasn’t unusual for new students to arrive at the academy, powers didn’t exactly keep to school schedules, but the latest student had certainly made an impact. The young African American woman, Dana Devons, always dressed in a strange throwback style, leather jacket over a t-shirt and a skirt normally very short and a pair of solid platform boots. Her hair was shaved on one side with the mass of her hair swept over the over side covering the eye. With her deliberately punky clothes came an attitude she was surly and argumentive suggesting that she really didn’t want to be friends with anyone. Not that it didn’t stop some seeing that as a challenge...

GM December 17th, 2018 Wales Being Wales, it was, predictably raining. True, at this time of year it could have been snowing, but so far the white had not fallen, and not settled. It was a tepid day, with grey overcast skies and a dull wetness to the atmosphere. The green valleys were brown and muddy, and the trees had largely shed their leaves. There was still the smell of fertile land, and the hills were dotted with sheep and cows chewing the cud. 'Twas here, countless millenia ago, after the last Ice age, that Morgen the immortal was born, and met Dreadnought and here she had lain in stasis. And it was here that there was, allegedly, trouble. 'Twas the village of Wrottin Pontyggub that she had gone to, closest it seemed to her ancient settlement. Wrottin Pontygubb was indeed an ancient village, stuffed to the brim full of myths and legends and history. Some of the history might even have been true. She had arrived a few months ago, keen to understand the history of this place. And then she had dissapeared. People now whispered of ghosts and witches and all sorts of spooky spookiness, and Morgen, it seemed, was the go - to - person to blame!

16th Feb, 2019 Freedom City Coast GM Summer was not here, but the cool chill of winter was waning. The skies were less sombre, the trees less spartan. And, best of all, 'twas the weekend. A weekend to go driving one's motorcycle along the seafront. However cautiously or legally one was driving (or not) there was always one idiot on the roads. That was urban life for you. But Fascimile, driving his motorcycle most cautiously and legally (or not) was witness, this very day, this very afternoon to a most unusual type of idiot on the roads. Even by the extraordinarily high standards of Freedom City. Whipping past him, at a speed well beyong that which was legal, safe, or even sane, was another motorbike. And sat upon this motorbike was a lunatic dressed in chainmail armour, sword by his side, and holding a lance. "AN-AR-CHY! AN-AR-CHY!" he yelled as he terrorised pedestrians and motorists by the beach and by the buildings on the other side.

Magic Club Room, Claremont Academy Bayview, Freedom City, New Jersey Monday, November 5, 2018 5:45:13 PM Nicole Whitfield-Hall slammed Bellios' helm on the school table in front of her, causing it to wobble. She ignored the wobbling, instead turning to meet the eyes of everyone in the room that Claremont's Magic Club called home. It was, as club rooms go, nothing too magical. The walls were painted white and the floor was covered in wood paneling. Light fixtures did a good job of lighting the room in white fluorescent and the windows were open to let the fall air in. Couches and cushions littered one side of the room, fluffy in bright colors. A large whiteboard dominated the opposite side and it was covered from end to end in Nicole's scribbly handwriting -- notes to herself and metaphorica-logic based tandems used to navigate her type of magic. The two wooden tables were pushed to the wall, freeing up the middle for the current occupants, a bunch of monoblock chairs that matched their numbers, and one table in the middle of it all. Nicole's eyes were a little bit crazed, like those of a powered up cultist high on otherworldly drugs and gods. Too much caffeine and too little sleep frayed the edges of her features and she sniveled her nose, ruddy with the cold she had been harboring for the past few days. She was sitting in her wheelchair, in clothes that could have been a day old or three. A gray sweater and blue sweatpants completed the I-just-woke-up look, though for her it might as well have been a I-haven't-slept-for-two-days look. "Right, so, I've gathered yo--" She stoppped, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth just as she sneezed. Taking her hand away with a sniffle, she reached for a handful of tissues to wipe at her nose. There was a few seconds of awkward silence as she did so and pocketed the used tissues before she looked up again to continue her explanation. "Right, so I need your guys' help. And I really need your help so I'm glad that you came here today no matter what we think of each other." And at this she looked pointedly at Huang, before muttering under her breath. "Jerkass." Then she continued, tapping at the helm on the table. The helm gleamed a bright red and their faces were reflected on its purple-tinted visor. "See, Bellios over here has been acting up ever since a thing I did last week, if you know what I mean. Now, I've fixed most of the problems but this last one is tearing my hair out. It's honestly pissing me off and it's been doing so for two nights now. And there's no way I'm going to a faculty member after Summers' drumming after the assembly." She paused and shivered, having experienced how scary Summers could really be in a locked room. Alone. "So," she said, picking up again. "I think you've got the skills. Is why you're here. And the magic obviously, this would be so much more complicated if you aren't. Some of us are touched by magic through the sympathetic bonds you've created with your... things." She threw a thumb at Elizabeth and Veronica. "And some are dripping magic like sweat after P.E." And here she tilted her head towards Abigail. "You're what I got and if you're thinking of walking back out the door right now we can deal. You scratch my back and I scratch yours kind of deal. What do you say?" She met their eyes again, clearly expecting them to either agree or "deal" in her words.

GM April 23rd, 2019 Mid Afternoon... On a rather pleasant Spring day. The air was warm, the sun was bright, and the mood was reasonably pleasant. Agent Brock was in a good mood too. Largely because he was high on caffeine. Agent Brock was a short, squat man who looked like a thug, rather than a highly trained field agent of W.E.S.T. A Russian by origin, he was an expert on Artificial Intelligence. He sat in a t shirt and heans, supping his latte, in a rather expensive looking sports car, waiting for Replica. He was certainly one for the cassual, undercover lok, was Agent Brock. Even if he had a W.E.S.T. scanner and blaster in his glove compartment. Earlier on in the day, Replica had recieved an encrypted e mail from W.E.S.T. It came with no password, and was a devil to crack. But that was kind of the point. Director North knew very well that Replica was one of the few people who could crack it. Assistance Request! Replica, W.E.S.T. Is always grateful for your expertise, as you know. From that business with Darwin X, to the Russian mystery, and even that mess with the glass woman, you have always been a major asset in our mission. Thanks again. We would be most grateful if you could help us once more. Something seems to have gone wrong with a a medical AI project. Significant breakthroughs were reported, then significant glitches, and now four of the cheif develepors have gone missing. The FC police are investigating, but you can understand we are concerned that something else if going on. I say this delicately, but Artificial Intelligence is a potential threat - of course, we support its development as it is also a wonderful thing, but when incidents like this occur, we get concerned. Especially as we never quite got to the bottom of "the Russian problem". We have assigned Agent Brock to the case, and he has made some preliminary investigations. If you can make contact with him we would be, as always, grateful...

GM San Diego, California Friday January 4, 2019 8:22 PM local time The night air was cool, at least for San Diego. But to Cassidy Collins, it felt almost comfortable, seeing as it fifteen degrees warmer than Freedom City had been. Dressed in his costume as Dust Devil II, Cassidy was standing atop an office building about two miles inland from the coast along a La Jolla Village Dr, near where it intersected with Interstate 5. Cassidy had come to San Diego after he had seen a news report about an armed car robbery in La Jolla a few days ago. Brazen as the crime might have been, Cassidy likely would have paid it little heed (there was more than enough crime to focus on in Southside), had it not been for the report included a short video clip from a traffic camera, that had shown one of the robbers carrying a high-tech weapon, one Cassidy had seen before in the crates his Uncle Ben had taken into the Southwest. However, after deciding to investigate the appearance of at least one of those weapons, he had not quite anticipated just how spread out San Diego and the surrounding cities were. With miles of canyons filled with corporate parks, shopping centers and residential development, there was no telling where the robbers might try to strike next. Cassidy was currently at a section of University City, a few miles from the location of the last robbery. Both La Jolla Village Dr. below and the nearby interstate were busy with traffic. Across the wide road from his location was a large, open-air shopping center, Westfield UTC, filled with some high end stores. With little else to go on at the moment, he was gambling that perhaps the affluent area might be a tempting target for the robbers.

GM Jan 21st It started (in a manner of speaking) in Emerald City More precisely, with a puff of smoke outside the cottage of the Great and Powerful Oz, master of the mercurial and magnificent. "Where the hell am I now?" groaned Ms. Penny Coin. She had a woolen hat on to cover her elven ears. She was otherwise dressed like a hipster, in a long sleeved t shirt and jeans, with cool sneakers. She was short, just under five foot, and slender, with big eyes and tussles of golden blonde hair. And she bit her lip with nerves and excitement. In her hand she held the Puzzle box. It was a cube of a few inches in each dimension. At least, to look at. It probably contained infinite expanses of the multiverse. It could twist and turn, expand and contract in many dimensions (not just your regular three). And it was a blessing and a curse from her father, the Witch-King of Elves. "Where have you taken me now? Stupid box" she moaned, although in truth she always liked adventure. "Open up! Open Sesame! Open Season! Shazam! Abracadabra!" she said to the door, knocking loudly. "There is a puzzle to be solved!"

Millennium Comics, West End location. Saturday, March 23, 2019. 12:35 pm It had been a while since Grimalkin had done a signing event of any kind, but when her favorite local comic book store asked if she was willing to partner them and the charity of her choice, how could she refuse? The usual table was set up near the back of the store, and the changeling's ego got a bit of a boost since the line snaked its way out the front door. In the near five years since she'd returned to Freedom, she'd done enough crimefighting and overall heroics to put herself back in the public consciousness after being gone for the three previous years. And she had always proudly maintained her roots in the eclectic West End, to the point that many people still considered her one of their own. It was the usual crowd: middle-aged fans who'd been following her since 2008 when she first made her appearance, die-hard Interceptors fans in their twenties who always asked when she was going to rejoin Jack's team (she was always diplomatic and did nothing but praise the current team line-up), and now the new wave of cosplayers and little girls in their homemade costumes. Thankfully her current fan base was a lot less 'pervy' than it used to be, a welcome change in the last few years that made it a lot easier to do this sort of thing. And it helped that every dollar generated went to Freedom's Warriors, one of her favorite charities that helped out disabled local vets. The next group was two simply adorable little girls in cosplay, herded up to the table by their mom, holding her cellphone in one hand. Lynn's heart simply melted as they rushed up and grabbed her by each hand. "Hi Gimalkin!" "Hi Grimalkin!" "Omigod, you're so cuuute! What are their names?" "Sasha and Felicity," offered their proud mom, hands shaking in shared excitement as she tried to focus her iPhone. "Well, Sasha and Felicity, let's do a cool action pose, okay?" "Yeah!" "Cool!" All three Grimalkins stood in front of the backdrop Grim had conjured up that morning, a photo-realistic depiction of a moonlit roof top, crouched forward together with their claws out and snarled for the camera. "Grrr!" "Rawr!" "Raaahhhh!"

The Kirby November 10th, 1:30 PM Corinne had passes to a private showing before the public launch. Likely from her father. It didn't matter, really, though. As it was a show of modern Dakanan art, on a day the museum was normally closed, but for an exclusive viewing. Of course, she wasn't the only one with passes. Other people had them and she had been a bit free with handing them out at Claremont, so even some people who weren't really friends with her got some. Since Hannah left she felt a little... lost, and really just delved harder into the dancing. Until the injury, and the setback. But she didn't have much else. And no roommate meant she had no impetus to reach out, apart from stuff for the Orange team. Right now, she was standing there in front of a complicated mixed media sculpture, chewing thoughtfully as she took in the piece that dominated the room with it's abstract representation of... something. She wasn't quite sure what. But it seemed very insistent. She wore a pair of overalls, with her daisy adorned hat, and a big green sweatshirt on under the straps, and a pair of similarly green Doc Martens.

GM October 31st, 2018, 6.45PM University Hill, Emerald City, Oregon, USA The Halloween party had barely started, and it was already over. All around a young woman streamed university students, faculty, and staff of the God House, flavor of the year for Emerald City University's trend-chasing contingent. Screaming in inhuman fury, something in a horse-headed suit of armor kicked over a lovely gilded reproduction of some Madonna, trampling and smashing its way through altar tables, shrines of menus and wall-fountains as it swung now-bloodied fists, gnarled and bigger around than the young woman's head. Its wails and howls were nearly drowned out by the shouts, directions, shrieks and crying of its prey, the terrified Munchkins only barely keeping the presence of mind to avoid trampling each other thanks to regular earthquake and volcano drills had since kindergarten. The horse head turned to the woman, seeing in her the only meaningful challenge to be found, and charged.

GM The West End March 6th, 11:00 PM The Seeker had been seeking. According to his contacts, someone had been making the rounds in world of organized crime in Freedom City, especially in West Freedom. Whoever it was had done a great job of staying under the radar of the police and heroes of Freedom City. After all, some lowlives going missing was hardly what would get the Freedom League to come running, but they were growing bolder. Perhaps it was because of their success. Perhaps they were simply moving up the food chain, or they wanted to make a statement. Whatever the cause, it was creating a measure on instability in the West End, and innocents could end up in the crossfire. As an added bonus, the culprit was rumored to have a connection to the Labyrinth. But, he was not an easy man to find. All the Seeker knew was that he was called the Talon. The Seeker had been following a lead to the West End. One of the Talon's potential safehouses, located in an apartment building just North of Greenbank, not far from the old railyards. Approaching from the outside, the building seemed unassuming. Some youths on the street. A man in a nice suit leaned against a wall, reading something on his phone. The groundfloor held a bar. The safehouse was supposed to be on the sixth floor of the eight story building.

Date: April 1st, 2019. Noon-ish. Freedom Hall, the city-based headquarters of the city's -- if not the world's -- premiere superhero team, had received an unusual visitor. A man once welcome in those halls, who had worked and played alongside those esteemed heroes, was counted amongst their number... and then who fell, thoroughly and abruptly. He had retreated to seclusion for extended treatment, of both mind and body. Now, many years later, he had returned to Freedom, and was filling his former colleagues in on what he had been up to. Well, he hadn't gotten to his colleagues yet. Doktor Archeville was still in the ground floor reception area, talking with Cynthia, the League's not-quite-sentient robot receptionist. He was in disguise, as a German tourist (in socks & sandals, with a large backpack), asking mildly inane question vocally, but using his technopathic abilities to have a real conversation with her via radio. "... and it wasn't until I was certain that the Communion was gone from the system that I left that planet and returned here. Well, not here-here, but here, to Earth. I went back to therapy, and the therapist remarked how my time away seemed to have done me some good, so we started re-acclimating me to working with the public. Small steps at first, of course, working undercover as a handyman, posing as an apprentice who was being shown around by his mentor -- and supervisor. Eventually I did some work as a substitute teacher, again still in disguise, getting more exposure to working with groups, proving some guidance and mentorship to them." He sighed wistfully, "that felt very rewarding, and made me quite happy. And now I am here, back in Freedom, to touch base with folks, speak with those I had not spoken with since the... incident -- assuming they even will speak with me -- and admit the exact nature of my wrongs & attempt to make amends to them all. I know some may refuse, some may never forgive, but I must make sincere attempts at reconciliation."

The English Countryside Thursday December 20, 2018 12:13 PM, local time The Harrows' Land Rover turned onto a narrow country road, having passed through a small little town in the English countryside. The four occupants of the vehicle were currently quiet, all prior conversations having wound down over the last few hours now since leaving London. Lulu had flow into England with her foster family on Saturday, the family spending the first five days of their holiday trip taking in a few of the sites, festivities and shopping of the city. But after the hustle and bustle of the city, they were now on their way to the more subdued setting of Robert’s family estate in the countryside. The weather outside was about what one might expect for England this time of year. Overcast and cold (but a bit warmer than Freedom City had been when they have left). So far there had been no rain today, but how long that might last was uncertain. The country road they were driving along was lined with tall hedges, but beyond could be seen a small orchard on one side and a lightly forested field on the other. After a couple of hundred meters, the hedges gave way and they came upon a towering old country estate. The main section of the home stood some four stories tall, while the wings were about half that height, and looked to be at least two hundred years old. As Robert pulled the Land Rover up in front of the main entrance to the estate, a well-dressed older gentleman appeared through the door, wasting no time in making his way down toward the vehicle as it came to a halt.