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GM The Eclipse Night Club September the 9th, 23:30 The Eclipse night club was booming to industrial Gothic Beats, an effective repetitive sound of limited musicality and excessive passion. Aortic Valve where playing and had been expressively forbidden from any self-harming blood throwing antics. On another night, this might not be the case, but the Eclipse did, from time to time, open its doors to the 16-18 age bracket with clear parameters for acceptable behaviour. Gotta Gotta Gotta, Gotta Gotta Gotta, Gotta Gotta Gotta Slash the Pash....ion! sang the leader Singer of Aortic Valve, Verity Vein, dressed in slashed up leathers and black make up. A bit too little of the former, a bit too much of the latter. She sang in a voice that alternated from drone to scream and was really rather effective. And 'twas on this night that Bird of Arms was out partying. And the place was packed. Not just with the 16 and 17 year olds, but older adults too. Alcohol was not served, but a frenzied spirit was, and in copious quantities. Rob the Troll was enjoying the show. He was six foot six and hideously ugly, not helped by a broken nose and scar that ran down his face bisected by an eye patch. His arms were as thick as most peoples legs, if not thicker, and he had tattoo's on (it seemed) every square foot of his skin. Rob the Troll kept the peace in the Eclipse, and such was his reputation that he could do it by reputation alone. However, with Bird of Arms here, his reputation and indeed his skill might not suffice. He sidled up to Bird of Arms as Slash the Passion finished (to much applause and screaming). "No trouble from you tonight, you hear?"

((Welcome to Eve and Becky’s Big Enormous Wedding Thread! In the vein of With Lovers and Friends I Still Can Recall this is a way to tell a big story from many different perspectives. Below you’ll find a rough timeline for the day including some details of location and timing, as well as some story hooks requiring superhero intervention. This thread is open to everyone to post vignettes and mini-vignettes telling their characters’ stories from that day. Because this is not a traditional vignette prompt (read: you do not get vignette reward PP for this) but it is also not a regular thread, we’re relaxing many of the normal posting rules. Your vignettes can be of any length - a full page is not required - and you may post more than one per character if you wish. The prohibition on multiple characters per thread is also lifted, so post with as many of your characters as you have stories for. Double and triple vignettes are still allowed, if you so desire and also have no length requirement. As vignettes are added by players the events of the day will be further detailed. Later posters should try and read the vignettes that came before them so they can be sure their work will fit into the developing timeline. That does not mean vignettes have to be in chronological order! Feel free to jump ahead or backfill anywhere you like, so long as it is on the wedding day. Story hooks are first come, first serve, so posting early isn’t a bad idea. If you don’t believe your character would’ve been invited to the wedding feel free to post stories about your character protecting the city while a sizable chunk of its superhero population is taking the night off. Feel free to ask in chat if you have any questions and have fun!)) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Once upon a time, two girls fell in love. Then one of the girls was possessed by a cannibalistic spirit of avarice, for which the other girl blamed herself and as second dates go it honestly could have gone better. They spent too long apart before finding each other again, reigniting a spark that had never gone out. They had adventures together, lived together not nearly enough, missed each other far too much, celebrated and mourned and eventually they decided that together was absolutely better than apart. Finally, on an August afternoon in a castle in the sky, there was a wedding. All of their friends were invited and even if not everything went as planned there aren't many obstacles a bunch of superheroes can't overcome if sufficiently determined and their friends were determined that the happy couple should live happily ever after, at least for today. Preparations for the wedding began in the morning at the Dutemps Building, with Becky and an impressive collection of Canada's greatest living champions in the penthouse apartments at the top and Eve and her bridesmaids - and one Maidnight - up in the castle. There were caterers and decorators and the mother-of-all-florists running about, which made things a little complicated for some of the obviously non-human guests! Mani-pedis, makeup, lots of last-minute advice and a champagne brunch rounded out the morning for the wedding party, along with a few shenanigans designed to make sure that the brides didn’t encounter each other before the ceremony. In the afternoon, all the dressing-up began in earnest, and then the pictures. So many pictures, professional and otherwise, with people who don’t often get photographed with their own faces and looking their best. The photographers didn’t always confine themselves to the wedding party either, arriving guests might find themselves captured on film a few times for the album. The venue was beautiful, the Gothic Revival-style chapel dedicated to St. Jeanne d'Arc was illuminated with gorgeous light through its stained glass windows and bedecked with flowers. There were a few diversions to entertain the guests, a book to sign, a little display of childhood photos of the brides, a table of snacks. There was also a nasty elevator malfunction in one of the private elevators leading up into the castle but it was sorted by helpful guests before it became a real problem. As the 3:00 PM wedding start time approached guests began to move to their seats while music played and a breeze whispered through the trees. The ceremony was beautiful and quite peaceful, though it’s hard to say what behind-the-scenes machinations may have been required to keep it that way. Jack Pegahmagabow and Eden Espadas nearly stole the show as ring-bearer and flower girl, despite subtle interventions from their uncle and parents, respectively. Otherwise, the simple and brief service, conducted by Claremont’s headmaster emeritus Duncan Summers, was focused on Becky and Eve, who stood under a flowered trellis to exchange handwritten vows and rings in front of all their friends and family. With the business of the day taken care of it was time to celebrate! The castle’s ballroom had been prepared in a fine faux-Medieval style, with dinners, drinks, and dancing inside a hall bright enough to pass for a fairy tale. A minor problem in the kitchen was quickly sorted and if the happy couple disappeared from their own party for a little while before arriving for dinner, nobody was inclined to say anything about it. There were toasts and a few short speeches after supper and then the happy couple opened the dancing with a slow turn on the dance floor to an original 1930 recording of Lucienne Boyer's Parlez-Moi d’Amour, one taken right from the Crimson Fox's personal collection. The dancing went on late into the night, helped along by a custom coffee bar manned by two experienced baristas. At one point in the evening, the power went off for nearly ten minutes, but inventive guests worked around it and the problem was quickly solved. Eve and Becky left around 9:00 in a hail of bubbles and sparks and flowers and beams of light from their friends, taking off in the private elevator up to the castle's master living quarters. Even with the guests of honor gone there was plenty of partying left to do, and it wasn’t till nearly midnight that things quieted down and the cleanup could begin.

Matt had been waiting for her. He'd been trying ever-so-hard to not look like he'd been waiting for her, and on a normal day he probably could have pulled it off with his well-honed apathy and a set of scout dogs, but there was something under his skin and it was making him somewhat less than subtle. And so he paced, or tapped his foot, or drummed fingers against his knee to some song in his head, all while periodically pulling at a bandage wrapped tightly around his left forearm. He'd tried rolling the sleeves of his black overshirt down to cover it, but they didn't cover quite enough of his wrist and at some point he'd just given up. He'd given up on a lot of things, really. "Raina!" So much for playing it cool, well done. He pulled at the bandage again, unconsciously, pulling back a bit so that she didn't feel like she was getting ambushed outside her last class for the day. "It's...not that big a deal, but I could use a favor. Maybe. I'd definitely owe you one - heck, I'd owe you two, if it goes well."

Freedom City, New Jersey Thursday, 23 March 2017 Afternoon Arthur Campbell was many things to many different people. He was a world-renowned geologist, a contemporary of Edmund Hillary, one of the last great explorers, a guest lecturer at HIT and FCU, He was a philanthropist and a regular figure in Freedom City's gala scene, always a perfect gentleman and the life of the party. He also had excellent taste as he had requested the help of Samantha Carson when he ran into a sticky problem with some crystals. He was also a figure of interest to the police, given the number of police cars gathered around his North Point mansion and the police tape across the entrance. Samantha Carson was parked on the side of the road, watching the flurry of police activity. She was supposed to be meeting with Arthur in, well, about thirty seconds, but driving through a police cordon would make that much more complicated.

This is a mistake, Tristan Delacroix thought glumly as he waited on the moonlit beach. Tonight he was a slender, middle aged man, tanned to the point of leathery wrinkles. Freedom City wasn't known for its surfing, and furthermore this was the wrong time of year for it anyway, but the disguise still brought him some comfort. Just some guy enjoying the beach, late at night. If only the rest of his plan was as simple. He spent the whole day second-guessing himself. Easy enough to think about inviting an outsider to his new lair--well, no, even that wasn't very easy--but actually following through with the idea brought the risks to the forefront of his mind and pushed all possible rewards to deep, dark corners. Even just Bonfire, whom he trusted fairly well by this point, could cause him terrible harm. Perhaps just inadvertently; trusting the other hero's motives wasn't the same as putting potentially his entire heroic career in Bonfire's smoky hands. The blog deal hasn't backfired yet, he reminded himself. No, no, that's unfair. It's going well. That's probably how Rayzer heard of me, so failing all else, at least Bonfire is effective. That guy was all the way on the West Coast! I could probably go to space and get recognized before long. At any rate, it was too late now. He had already contacted his "publicist" to request a meeting, with vague details, and most dangerous of all, advised Bonfire to bring a camera. Tristan was sure that he could pick and choose what was photographed, but would that be enough? What if he missed something? He imagined a fan intensely studying their computer screen for clues, and finding a loose thread that unraveled the whole tapestry he spent years creating. Never before had his cover story felt so flimsy. Tristan shivered from more than the chilly air, but didn't leave the beach. All he could do was proceed with watchful caution and trust his ally. Time would tell if that was enough.

GM March 31st, Friday, 2017, 9.40PM 2150 Hanamaru St, Riverfront district, Emerald City, Oregon, USA Stumbling into the gentle, even glow of Emerald City's streetlights, the prey stopped to catch their breath. The unseasonally warm air, a sign of the impending catastrophe, burned in their frail lungs. The cotton suit was splashed with mud and the leather office shoes were soaked through from running through puddles. The hair that had been curled that afternoon, silky black, reminding the hunter of a smiling, care-worn face above a cradle, hung in tangles. They weren't moving, just slumped, huddled against a staff of the elegant spire of light. The hunter did not dare enter the cursed, white pool. In the southern Emerald their night-time lights caught the Sun's fury and made the streets a Hell of silent fire. But the hunter had other means, greater than any other beast's claws, venom or sinew. With easy grace a human-llike shape swept from the low roof to the alley below. "Come out of the light. Come to me." All it had to do was not turn around- It did. Its eyes met those of the vampire. They were dead before the fangs sank into their neck. April 1st, Saturday, that afternoon Hakim Naifeh could count on a few small blessings in life. Foremost was the nigh-inevitability of having Saturdays off at Westrock. The office was at a convenient location(though really, given the needs of young people in tech, most offices were someplace convenient) with easy access to food and places to relax, but it wasn't the same as taking your own pace where you wanted to be. Today that place was the Library. Since last winter super-activity had exploded, the Emerald City Originals were rapidly becoming a point of tremendous city pride and Sha'ir had been coming into more and more situations needing creative mystic solutions. Which meant time spent poring over the electic collection in his private extradimensional space. But today, from the moment he had stepped into the close, musty air and glanced around the bookshelves twisting and reaching in every direction, something had been off. The first sign was the arch. It had never been there before, a pile of loose leaves arranged haphazardly into a square archway, leading into other, unfamiliar ranks of shelves and cramped desks. These books were arranged, organized with a meticulous hand. They were also mostly in languages that Hakim had never even seen, let alone knew. Harsh runes, cuneiform-like symbols, flowing script that looked like ocean waves. The second were the voices. Coming from down the narrow hallway, arguing over something. A crisp English alto was holding firm, but a bass from the Deep South was tenacious. The books and carpet muffled all sound, but it seemed like just moving a little further would reveal these intruders...

GM March 21st, Tuesday, 2017 Then With a final burst of power Citizen's android housing scattered across the floor. The unimaginable scale of the energy needed to discorporate an Archetech android originally built for super-level combat against space-borne opponents had the air tingling and crackling for a long time. The explosion's titanic BOOM faded, cushioned by the noise-cancelation field, but it rang in the ears of those watching for hours after the fact. The core was a whiff of vapor. Behind the screens someone said "It worked." Someone else began "Now we are all sons of b-" "We talked about this. No." "Sorry." A third "He's just going to come back." The last "And now we know we can beat him. Again and again and again..." Now Citizen woke up in the quiet peace and humming familiarity of Gina Evans' digital sanctum. To a quiet little house and a big happy dog panting lovingly on his shoulder. To the certain knowledge something very wrong had happened. Archetech West wasn't equipped for holding copies of Citizen. Its spare android sets weren't even unsealed. So far as anyone knew, nothing in either Emerald City was actually personally dangerous to what was effectively the most powerful single entity on the Pacific Coast. Apparently that had changed.

August 6th, Claremont Campus. Afternoon-ish, and the day after. Yesterday had been innocuous enough. Until Bombastic had picked a fight with Corinne over her 'cold shouldering.' Well, it wasn't a fight. She had not been overly aggressive, but he had asked for it. Fortunately while out of sight from the Next Gen, as she was still summer schooling it. But... Zenith had to spend time in the containment units, until she was... calm. As Corinne she was... upset. Though she avoided Bombastic, so she wouldn't change in a fit of pique. She buried herself in stuff, practicing with drumming, some schoolwork. Then, finally just the gym. Dancing and gymnastics. It was like meditation for her. A place to go, something to submerge herself in. Which she did, in a manner that could be considered ferociously, until she was sweaty, and a bit tired, and going through additional stretched, if not to cool down, but rather to ready herself for round two. Dressed in just a pair of shorts, and an athletic top, with toe shoes, and her hands and fingers taped up for her to do what she felt was needed. Corinne was in the splits pose, her torso twisted and stretched out along, her hands gripping at the sole, with her face pressed her knee.

Pi Epsilon Delta Chapter House, Freedom City University. Saturday, August 26th, 2017. 10:05 AM At the eighth floor, Casey slid open the vintage elevator gate, which shrieked delightfully; everything here felt timeless and ageless, and somehow that thrilled her. She paused to peer over the railing of the stairwell, all the way down to the tile floor below, and then turned her head upwards to marvel at the stained glass dome overhead. "I love it," she murmured to no one in particular. Finally she began to make her way towards her designated room, and learn just who 'Maria Sangre' really was; she knew she was from New York, Puerto Rican and fiercely proud of it. Casey also knew that she had some kind of freaky superpowers that involved the human body somehow. Did she dare share her own secret identity? Probably not, at least until she knew this girl better. The blonde bruiser made her way down the hall, dragging two wheeled carry-on bags, one in each hand. On her back was a massive backpack; not a little daypack like you'd give to your middle-schooler, but a full-on mountaineering grade beast. It was full to bursting, but she carried the load easily. In terms of clothing, she wore a pair of Teva sandals, khaki cargo shorts (how many pairs did she own?), her photographer's vest over a Colorado Rockies T-shirt, a pair of glasses, and a brand-new FCU baseball cap. She smelled of musky organic soap, sugarless mint gum and a healthy sweat. She found the right door on her letter from PED and politely knocked before poking her head in. "Hello, new roomie warning! Hide all your, uh, drugs and alcohol and stuff!" Yeah, that sounded way funnier in her head. Her voice bore just a hit of a Southwestern twang, and her smile was positively radiant.

Meechum's 1:30 PM, May 16th. This was odd. Very, very odd. She checked her phone and made sure she had the right place. Probably. The restaurant was a good neutral sort of place, having enough options that there should be no problem with any dietary restrictions. It was a safe gamble, and Corinne noticed it. It was like her meeting with her father, but... more awkward. She didn't know what Amir's ex was to her, but the lady was trying to be nice... And she might know some things about this town that she'd like kt know. Or how to deal with the attention her dad got, but then, she wasn't exactly a completely private person really. Wearing her kinda sorta bucket hat, a denim jacket, a blue and black plaid shirt, with a pair of black pants, and teal sneakers. Of course... that wasn't so different than a whole host of teenagers and twenty somethings. What made her stand out was the height. Taller than her father, and Agnus, she was a statuesque stunner, and even in a moderately busy place like Meechum's during lunch, she was more than visible. She assumed Agnus was already here, because she was still navigating and learning the town, but she was looking for her, peering and surveying.

Winifred lowered the blouse in her left hand and raised the buttoned dress shirt on its hanger with her right, frowning at her own reflection in the full length mirror on the back of her dormitory room's door. "If I'm meeting her at her apartment rather than her office I shouldn't be too stuffy, yes?" she reasoned, raising the blouse again to look at the pair of tops side by side. "But the apartment is still inside the company's building and it's still a business meeting. I can't look childish so erring on the side of professionalism might be wiser." Despite her limited wardrobe she'd already been debating her outfit for a good half an hour before asking for Raina's assistance. She'd been preparing for her meeting with Ms. Albright of AEON for the past week and while it would have been one thing if she were simply delivering scientific findings proposing a line of alchemical cosmetics necessitated a certain level of panache she wasn't confident she could meet. If any of her friends knew how to dress for success it was the self-assured pyromancer.

DHR Station, Outer Asteroid Belt Alda System, Sharahazad Sector It hadn’t been a special request, and so far, it wasn’t that special of a mission. There was one thing that stood out about this one, compared to many others Starshot had been hired on. He’d been met on a station in a the neighbouring Tethron System, and had to leave his ship there. Him, and everything he’d felt was necessary were transported to the research station in a small shuttle. He’d heard that the system was under quarantine, so when the pilot explained it, it all made more sense. In order to preserve what was in the system, more on that later, only the most necessary transport was allowed. Once Oskar stepped off the shuttle, he was greeted by a middle aged Lor in a labcoat, most likely one of the head researchers at the station. The company owning the station, and thus in effect the system, had hired him to hunt down a Bortha, and they paid pretty well considering the threat level. “Mr. Starshot, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for acting this quickly, time is of the essence. Are there anymore questions before we transport you to VI-A?”

June 2017 White Sands Missile Range New Mexico "Mayday, mayday!" came the alert as the plane descended towards the base runway, the beings surrounding it jetting back and forth like mites attacking a bird. But these mites had teeth - and super-strength. "This is Air Force One with a Code Uniform Mayday, repeat, a Code Uniform Mayday! We are in distress and about to make an emergency landing at White Sands Missile Range!" General George Bradley, the overall commander at White Sands, was a scientist more than a warrior - but he knew a Code U Mayday well enough. He'd been a young second lieutenant assisting Colin Powell the last time a Code U had been called - when the man it had been named for, the Ubermensch, attacked the White House during the first Gulf War and only barely been defeated by the Centurion. Superhumans were attacking the President! "Clear the runaway, now!" he called, running out the door from his office to his command post at top speed. "Get Kirtland and Cannon to scramble their jets now!" The Air Force bases weren't that far away, not at jet speed. The moment he stepped outside, he heard the battle in the air - Air Force One was screaming in for a landing at breakneck speed, smoke pouring from its engines, the zipping forms of attacking metas on either side now taking fire themselves from White Sands' small MP force. "And put out an alert - White Sands is under attack by unknown hostile forces!" There was no point in letting the world know the President was arriving - not yet!

The website for Chrysopoeia Cosmetics went live as the product began to appear on store shelves throughout Freedom City and sample arrangements arrived on the doorsteps of local beauty bloggers; the always popular Set posted a literally divine smokey eye tutorial which garnered the usual surge in likes and reblogs that came whenever they roped Sekhmet into participating. Adorned with tasteful calligraphy the site was styled after an old-timey apothecary shop and boasted a surprisingly robust backend thanks to a certain technically inclined simian. The core line ranged from foundation with the benefits of a moisturizer to chip-proof nail polish that went on in a single coat to smudge proof, waterproof and somewhat alarmingly fireproof lip colour. Those bold claims were backed up by accompanying videos hosted by a serious young woman in a white lab coat, delivered in much the same way as an academic dissertation even if the volunteers joining her attempted to insert a bit more style and humour. Colours ranged the gamut of skin tones, including those traditionally under serviced. The most popular were quickly placed on backorder with a formal apology posted assuring customers that production was being adjusted in response to demand and thanking them for their patience. More exciting, however were the signature lines! Heat sensitive 'mood colours' shifted from rich imperial purple through the spectrum to a sensational scarlet. The 'nighthawk' assortment shifted between subdued, professional looks to bold club style with the setting of the sun. 'Multifaceted' variants dried into delicate patterns like ice crystals, star fields and chocolatey swirls. The 'inner glow' colours soaked up ambient light to shine with non-toxic and surprisingly tasteful luminescence. As though in acknowledgement of the overwhelming array of choices one page of the site featured pre-selected bundles of sample sized product, highlighting some of the more eye-catching colours. The 'smoke hound' kit included light-devouring blacks paired with softer slate greys while the 'ice queen's kiss' kit encompassed a half dozen different lip colours that reacted to temperature. There were bundles themed around each of the LGBT+ pride flags and appropriately for Freedom City bundles themed around prominent heroes, such as the cheekily named 'Briticana' set of red, white and blues, the 'Earth Mother' assortment of lush greens and the subtly metallic 'Dragonscale' colours that glowed like embers in the right light. The most significant page on the site was a deceptively simple text field with layers of behind-the-scenes security to ensure the utmost discretion. The form invited visitors to request custom orders tailored to their own specific requirements. Foundation suitable for amphibious skin? Available at a week's notice. Unique colours to match a heroic uniform? Easily done. Telepathically activated eyeshadow laced with psionically reactive crystals that wouldn't irritate delicate skin? Packaged with a complimentary exfoliant scrub. After all, the site's copy opined, pairing someone with their ideal product could be truly transformational.

Content warning: Mild swearing, Moderate Body Horror (Lovecraftian, not gore) GM 17th June, Bedlam City One hot afternoon... As usual, Fat Joe put extra onions in his hot dog for the Tattered Man. His onions were quite nice. Unlike the bread or the meat which were meagre and passable if one was being generous. Ever since the Tattered Man had helped Fat Joe he had always got extra onions. Fat Joe was as tall, bald, and rotund as ever. His smile was no less beaming. Maybe, since the Bad Beat had burned down and Blowfish was in hiding, well, maybe he smiled just that bit brighter. "Whats up, my friend? Any news? Any good jokes for me?"

Ah, summer. Moira loved the warmth of the sun. Apollo's gaze upon her was delightful. But for every good, thing that she had, a little rain must fall. Not rain in the physical since. A giant divine-mechanical bull was giving her the chase. Not that she was running from it or it was running from her. They collided head on in the West End. Eris and Hephaestus had stepped up their antagony. This being the most blatant of it. As they clashed, it was clear more than brute strength was needed. "Would any of you great gods want to lend a hand? Apollo, your heat? Ares, you great fury? Dionysus, your zeal? Aphrodite, your..." -Alright, one crazy trip comin up!- It was Dionysus answering the call. Something sparked in her. A dark explosion, disintegrating the bull, but that wasn't the last of it. She felt a bit overloaded like there was something extra on it...

July 8. Boston. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Science Building Parking Lot. 1 PM. Samantha Carson was nervous. She had finished up a last bit of work. There were always summer session students looking for a little one on one time. She was a terrific professor, after all. However, that time had passed and now she was waiting for two people. One was her husband, Stan. The other was the superhero known as Miracle Girl. Sam, in her superheroic alter ego known as Terrifica, had been mentoring the girl off and on for quite a while now. However, today was a bold new step in their relationship. She didn’t quite know how the younger woman would react. She had contacted the blonde paragon in the usual fashion, requesting her presence. All other times, it had been casework of one kind or another. Today, as stated, was going to be different. Sam had attempted to communicate that this was a more social occasion, however she was uncertain of the attempt’s success. Speaking of, Miracle Girl should be arriving shortly. It was time to get changed. After all, the young woman wouldn’t know Samantha Carson from Eve. It was Terrifica she was coming to see, and Terrifica who would meet her.

Freedom City. North End. The Southern Queen. 1 PM. Maybelle McQueen was having a lovely day. It was the lunch rush. Dishes had to be cooked fast, served fast, and cleared fast. Her waitstaff was up to the task today. Her kitchen staff was on fire. Man, she’s really picked some good supporting staff. David, Matt, and Peter followed her orders precisely, and were more than competent. At times, even their creativity met her standards. Rose, Martha, Amy, and Clara kept the dining area both in order and moving. Everything was going just fine today. Maybelle grinning and slid the dish she was cooking onto a waiting plate. “Order up! Vegetarian stir fry with tofu balls!”

It was a small list - the friends that Talya still had from her time among the Allies of Freedom was a small list that grew smaller yet every year. Most of them - all of them, really - had public personas just as flashy as Natalya Browning's public facade. They were also well aware that Talya's actual private life was something she had always kept decidedly so, so the understanding that discretion was expected was well understood alongside her invitation to visit the recently renovated apartments above the Espadas' School. Well, to most of them, it was likely well understood. For Ace, she made the effort to include a pointed phone call alongside sending a private town car - lest she get the damn Dangermobile hovering outside a window just because he wanted to tease. It might have been any other cheerful weekend afternoon at the rather noisy home of four very young children. That Talya was tense was only clear to those who knew her very well - and those who could compare her usual level of tidiness to the current downright sparkling level of cleanliness in an apartment with very young children. It was, frankly, unnatural to see the living room looking like something out of a magazine as the blonde Brit frowned before going to rearrange the art fully folded quilt on the couch's arm for the third time.

May 24th. 3:30PM Claremont Gymnasium She had moved her things in, she had a lot of things, but she had paired down to what she would need for the upcoming summer. And Percival. Who was essential, and adorable. The she'd be getting after she found one. It was awkward. Hannah got to meet Corinne's folks, and brother. Who were lovely people, though her brother was exactly the younger 12-year old bro one would imagine him to be. Once it was all sorted, and her folks were gone after taking both girls out to what was mucho, mucho Thai food, Corinne announced, in their room, she needed to go to the gym and work out, and she invited Hannah along so that she could get some limbering and practice in. This was of course meaning she was wearing one of the gymnast long sleeved leotards that hid nothing, dark blue with red-orange trim and matching stylized lightning bolt with a lighter blue underscore. She threw a towel around her shoulders, and a pair of white ankle high Converses before she dragged along the other girl to the Gym. "I got to loosen up, and so do you. And don't worry, you've got a better build than I do. I'm like... seventy maybe ninety-six percent leg, and that causes so many problems, like it took be years to get basic tumbles right. Pizza, or milkshakes will be our reward! Or both!" Of course she had performed an impromptu Gene Kelly-esque routine between the dorms and this building, so how much needed to stretch and limber up may be a bit of a lie. Still once there, the tall blonde immediately set about working through some basic yoga poses and others, after her shoes were shucked and she was on the mat.

82 Eridani System Thursday, September 28, 2016 Cavalier flew along side Sea Devil through the inky void, taking in the unfamiliar sights. There was an index full of the various planets, moons, and asteroids of the system, but he had never actually seen them with his eyes. Still, Mentor had recommended this as a nice peaceful system for a trial run. And surveillance. Mentor hadn't been so direct in calling it surveillance. But when Cavalier had asked why he was being asked to take Sea Devil on a ridealong - especially when she hadn't gotten off on good terms with the young Deep One, and her time in space had been far from a walk in the park - Mentor had relented and given him the full scope. "The individuals who tampered with our armor to make the Spectrum Knight design were powerful, intelligent, and given to deception. Although we have examined the altered armor in detail and found no obvious tampering, we know from our own designs that the armor can adapt under proper circumstances. It may be best to see if Ms. Innsmouth has managed to develop new... hidden talents in use of the armor. Talents that were hidden just so they could be... discovered at the right time." A full analysis would be too invasive; however, if Cavalier rode along, Mentor could analyze the code of the Spectrum Knight armor to see if there were any nasty surprises lying in wait. Of course, convincing Sea Devil to go along all on her lonesome might be tricky. Hence why Cavalier had been given dispensation to hire the Voidrunners, with whom Sea Devil had a somewhat better relationship. And hence why he'd had the request approved to let Sea Devil bring along Jessie, who'd also been dragged about half the galaxy alongside her. And hence why he felt like the fifth wheel on this whole trip. But he was the one in charge, so he had to make sure he was everyone's fun uncle rather than their drill sergeant dad. "How do you like the sights?" he asked Sea Devil. "Anything catching your eye?"

GM No one knew who Melissa Milani. No one cared. In her mind she was a quiet little dweeb from a poor family. The eldest of twelve siblings. When she got out of high school, she distanced herself from her family. Took the first bus to the east coast to live it up. But that was not to be.On the way to freedom, the bus crashed killing all of the passengers. Except one. Melissa rose from the ashes, but was different. She was bigger, stronger, more important. From that day on she took the name Princess. She found that she could turn back into her old useless self if no one was watching. She used this to do whatever she wanted. For all the world knew, Melissa Milani was dead. Princess was the one they had to deal with. A few years later, she had made her way to her destination. Well, kind of. This was no Atlantic City, but it did have some awesome people there. Princess could get or take help. Floating through a string of robberies, she teamed up with every pretty boy or girl that would appease her. On the other side of the tracks, Denise Weaver grew up pampered getting everything she wanted. 'Daddy I want a pony,' she'd say and poof, a pony she'd have. 'Mommy I want dance lessons,' poof, dance lessons! Though later on, she opened her mouth and stuck her foot in it. She wanted superpowers. And, unfortunately, her parents knew exactly where to get them. The DNAscent Project. And they had enough money to go through with it. This was the final straw in Denise's sanity. She had the ability to fly and shoot energy with the power of her mind. She didn't have to ask, she could take what she wanted! And that she did. Though the novelty did wear off after a while, she could take whatever she wanted, but she had no one to share it with. Princess and Denise had their eye on the same prize one day. They didn't know each other, but they saw they were kind of fighting on the same side. So after they made their get away, they shared more than just the money they'd stolen. They shared a few fun laughs, some drinks, each other. They were kind of inseparable. Princess was doing it because Denise was hot. Denise was doing it because she really thought she'd found a friend and partner in crime. Through out the past couple of months they'd team up exclusively. Which brings us to now. They were both kind of hungry and there was this place called 'The Southern Queen' they could eat and knock over. "The food's good," Denise said flipping through a manual as she floated along lackadaisically. "I don't care," Princess said holding her stomach, "just point the way before my I drop. Princess needs food badly!" Denise grinned, "if it's really good we might come up some." The two rolled into the front door of 'The Southern Queen', waiting to be seated.

Content Notice: Violence (Holographs) Talya stood in the center of the empty concrete room, incongruously dressed for her barren surroundings. Her heels echoed as she took a step towards the simple folding table in the center and the weapons laid out on it with military precision. It would be a significant amount of time before she had managed to have all the alterations made to the Interceptors Headquarters knocked off on her list, but at least they'd hollowed out the concrete cavern that would be filled with advanced technology eventually. It was sturdy enough - and sound proof enough that Talya felt comfortable moving her exercises down to the space. Picking up the familiar Browning in her manicured grip, Talya checked the chamber with the comfort of long practice before loading the clip into the holster with a soft 'click'. "Vince?" The cultured, clipped tones broke the silence. There was no need for a response from the AI, the click of the thick door was answer enough. Talya took her live-fire exercises very seriously. Solid light holograms were well and good for targets but at least to Talya's senses, they didn't feel quite right. It was akin to the difference between practicing with a wooden blade versus the real thing. There were differences, small and slight, but enough to throw off her muscle memory if it was all that she practiced with. The gun slipped into the holster hidden by her carefully tailored suit jacket, in the waist band of the skirt. She shifted once to adjust to the weight against her spine before concealing the rest of the weapons, all equally lethal, all the former tools of her trade; blades, garrote, and one exceptionally thin, wicked stiletto hidden as jeweled pin along the brim of her hat. Once every weapon had been concealed, Talya quickly closed up the folding table to store it against the far wall of the concrete room. The last thing she wanted was to bang into a real object that was obscured by the holograms as they static'd into existence. The tech was still rough, very much in the 'working the kinks out phase', much like the room itself. It would provide Talya with both necessary exercise as well as needed calibrations to fine tune the program and technology for its final installation.

May 8, 2017. Tortuga, Haiti. The Bonny Read Tavern. Just After Sunrise. AEGIS agent Hannah Snell sighed as she looked at the tattered remnants of the Bonny Read Tavern. She didn’t know how she got herself into these things. Her mum back in Devonshire would say it was her desperate need for adventure. She sorted through the sleeping and/or battered unconscious figures scattered throughout the tavern with her eyes, hands, and (occasionally) fists, until she settled on one. “Oi.” She prodded the sleeping figure with her boot. “Oi. Flint.” What happened here last night would live in infamy…until next weekend, at the least. And it was at least half this woman’s fault. With the woman not waking from her rum induced slumber so easily, Hannah Snell decided to just go for it, and kicked the pirate captain in the side. Hard. “Oi. Get up, Flint. Need your ‘elp. Some pillock thought it’d be brilliant to resurrect a few old pirates for a lark. Needless to say, the prat’s dead and they’re on the loose.” Snell kicked the pirate again. “So get up, you lazy sod. You’ve got work to do.”

June 20th, 2017 Claremont Corinne was dancing in the main quad. Not just lightly, mind you. It was a full routine, as she practiced unconcerned about how she might look. Wearing sport earbuds, she closed the world down to just her and what she was doing. Wearing a pair of retro sneakers, with high ankles, a patterned white and blue pair of harem pants, and a patterned t-shirt that matched the pants. She was not a delicate type of person, so her dancing reflected that. Corinne felt she wasn't as good at precise, technical dancing. She also believed what a lot had told her regarding her size hindering her. So she tried hard. Harder than anyone else. She was a perfectionist, and held herself to an ideal, a pinnacle that she might not be able to reach, or, if she did, maintain. But what she believed, and what the realities were divergent. Corinne Conrad was one of the best dancers in her prior school, She showed that now. Her leaps, the arching of her body straddling the line of violent and precise. She was not aware of having a visitor. Or that somewhere in the middle of what she was doing, practicing and working through a routine she hoped to earn her spot in Julliard with, that somewhere in the middle she started to use powers to move on air.