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March 15, 2017. Freedom City. Hanover. Former Apartment of Marion Clarke. 5:30 PM. Katharine Shade had been having strange dreams lately. Not about fire and death, but about a friend she’d never had. A best friend that, as far as her waking memory knew, had never existed. Naturally, she could have just looked said person’s name up on the internet…if she had her name. It was rather frustrating, because the dreams felt so real. Almost as if they were memories she’d lost, which was impossible. Right? Right? Well, a week in and it was starting to get to her. Fortunately, she finally dreamed a name. Marion. It was a start. She started rifling through her entire life. Slowly at first, but speeding up as the tone of the dreams had started to shift. They were still memories of good times with Marion, but they were beginning to carry an uneasy undertone. At the end of week two, with no answers, Kat had become convinced Marion was in trouble and the dreams were a cry for help. This was where she finally found Marion’s last name. Clarke. Marion Clarke. She had been a student at Claremont during Kat’s tenure. However, she’d dropped off the map afterwards. Simply gone, and nobody appeared to have noticed. Aside from a bare bones missing persons file, Marion had disappeared off the face of the earth. Which was how Warp found herself in Hanover during this ridiculous rainstorm. The last time anyone had seen Marion Clarke, it had been right here, outside the apartment she’d rented after graduation and having to depart the Claremont dorms. HIT was nearby, and Marion had been enrolled, however briefly. It had been on the first day of classes that Marion had walked out of this apartment building and never been seen again. She might have waited until tomorrow (well, two days later the rain was supposed to finally frickin’ stop) but the last dream had been as outright a plea for help as supposedly happy memories could be.

The Home of Sid and Clara Epstein in Brigantine, NJ. Saturday, December 24th, 2016. 8:45 pm With her girlfriend gone to investigate the mysterious, spontaneous Christmas celebration downtown, young Gretchen McDaniels found herself alone with Lynn's extended family for the first time ever. True, she was fortified with a great deal of wine (both kosher and treyf) and a bellyful of Lainey Epstein's famous latkes, but it was still a bit sobering once the full impact had sunk in. Thankfully they were about to have a jam session, so Gretch could throw herself into the music and blot out the fear, or so she hoped. Lynn's Uncle Sid was an amateur drummer who had a full kit down in the basement, and his son Frank left his bass at home, so it was just a matter of gathering everyone else's instruments, a task made much easier thanks to magic. The Line Up Butch Epstein - guitar and vocals Gretchen McDaniels - lead guitar and vocals Sid Epstein - drums and backing vocals Frank Epstein - bass and backing vocals Everyone present had at least a little experience playing New Jersey weddings (gag!), and soon it became clear that there was a common corpus of material they could all draw upon. Bon Jovi - "You Give Love A Bad Name" It took all of Gretchen's willpower to steer the band away from 'Livin' on a Prayer', a song that held a special place of loathing in her heart; she knew there was no way to avoid the Garden State's second favorite son, but she knew to pick her battles. The assembled adults and kids ate it up, even though the young barista played it fairly mechanically. Still, it was a good warm-up number, and it was a chance to see Butch go to town on his little Traveler guitar, which apparently was a lot easier to play in a wheelchair; Gretch wanted one badly. Billy Idol - "White Wedding" So apparently, Uncle Sid was quite the sex symbol back in his day (ick!), and he requested, nay demanded, a chance to do his favorite karaoke song, which as the oldest son, he was able to push through. But he couldn't drum doing it, because he had to cradle the mic stand and 'work the room' (double ick!), which meant a bit of juggling instrument-wise. Frank shifted to the drums, which left Gretch on bass, which was a bit challenging because it as strung for a rightie, but she managed. Luckily the bass line was pretty straightforward, so she could take in a bit of Sid's performance, which she had to admit wasn't too bad; must have been quite the ladykiller, once upon a time. Radiohead - "Creep" This one was a bit of a surprise; Lynn's big sister Eddi requested a chance to take the mic, and sing one of her old favorites. Lynn had told her that Eddi did a little lounge singing on the side (she was a CNA at a nursing home during the day), but Gretchen had no idea what a set of pipes this girl had! Drawing upon who knew what personal pain from her own life, she turned it into something between a tortured torch song and a mournful wail, and it sent shivers down everyone's spines. Gretch also enjoyed the chance to take on Jonny Greenwood's visceral guitarwork. k.d. lang - "Constant Craving" Emboldened by Eddi's impressive performance, Gretch asked the rest of the band if they were familiar the work of the Canadian singer-songwriter, and was happy to see that even young Frank was a fan. Even though part of her felt like it was a bit of a cliche for a bi girl to sing this song, she was compelled by a strong desire to sing this song in this moment, with these people. Eddi and Lynn's mom Lainey (of all people!) flanked her on either side of the low stage to sing backup, and to everyone's delight, 'baby brother' Uncle Karl joined in on the bongos! Seeing so many Epstein rocking out at the same time was surprisingly touching and cool. Grand Funk Railroad - "The Loco-Motion" It was starting to get late, so it was time to start winding down; not wanting to go out on a sad note, Butch suggested they finish the night with a real barnburner, and offered up the hard rock cover of the Little Eva classic, and it proved to be a fortuitous choice. Inspired by the loss of one of the the all-time greats earlier in the year, Gretch went full-on Prince for the solo, and blew the room away with her impressive fingerwork. By the end of the song, everyone was singing along, and Butch and his wheelchair were leading a conga line around the basement. Exhausted, delighted and pretty damn drunk, the young newcomer dropped to her knees on the last chord and whooped with delight. Butch rolled over to her side, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said into her ear, just loud enough to be heard over the applause of the extended Epstein brood, "Welcome to the family, kid!" She had to wipe away happy tears; so this is what having a family felt like.

GM Saturday, March 11th, 2017 Port Regal, Freedom City 11:21 AM There were those times when one wondered just how they got into the situation they were in. Truth be told, those situations probably were a large part of being a superhero around Freedom City. It usually was best not to think about it too much, yet, somehow, that was exactly what Gretchen McDaniels wanted to do right now. She had gotten roped into this thanks to her girlfriend, and the two of them were now standing in front of a large metal gate blocking the driveway. They had rung already, and somebody would come and get them in just a bit. Tied around some of the metal was bright green paper, cut into fine lines, together with a few balloons hanging off. The estate looked quite large, which in itself wasn’t a bad thing. But then, then it became more and more apparent. A sound most abhorrent. Something that really, really wasn’t necessary today, right? Children.

March 9th, Evening Warp had been wondering for a while how she would get back in contact with Velocity. The last time she had spoken with the speedster was before her meltdown after the Day of Wrath. She had called Velocity for a pep-talk, to try to get herself back into a healthy mindset, to help the gnawing at her mind. It hadn't worked, but Warp had appreciated the attempt. She wasn't sure what Velocity thought of her. A corner of her mind spat that surely Velocity hated her. Another insisted that was likely paranoia. The rest of her remained unsure. And so she had spent close to four months after being active staring at the new phone she'd gotten her hands on for Warp, wondering if Velocity even still used the same number. Apparently she still did. Joy. Ever living for drama, Warp suggested a meeting in the same place they had the first time, on the roof of the building in the Theatre district that Warp had asked Velocity for help on years ago as a gangly, awkward and desperate teenager. The landscape had changed since then A few of the community theaters had been torn down, or remodeled, or stayed stubbornly the same and, in their pride, highlighted how much the district had changed in half a decade. Warp had changed, too. She was a little taller, more comfortable. She looked about college aged. And also her eyes and hands glowed with a deep red, with crack-like patterns extending up her arms and across her body. She was sitting on the top of a metal vent on the Barbary's roof, drumming her fingers loudly against the metal, breathing deep and trying to think in circles.

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.

GM The invitation had found Mr. Strix unsolicited. He had not been unaware of the competition that was going on in Chicago, Miami, Dallas, Los Angeles, The Emerald Cities, and Freedom City. He had in fact been looking into it. The prizes were too good. Millions of dollars worth of merchandise, and the fame and fortune that a televised event like this would have. It reeked of something sinister. Not to mention that the money had been moved around almost exclusively in the shadows until a few weeks ago. He had been "looking" into it after all. Maybe that had been enough to earn him an invitation. The invitation had been surprisingly plain, left somewhere he would notice on his patrols of Bedlam. It had been left tied to an arrow in a spot where Strix usually patrolled. A simple envelope with the word Strix which contained a simple card. A square of Manila color it had a yellow and green taegeuk symbol on it with the trigrams for fire on the top, water on the bottom, thunder on the left, and mountain on the right. The word "Supreme" was on the top and "Ultimate" on the bottom. The back side had a location, date, and time. Grant Park, Chicago, IL 4:45 PM March 10th, 2017

GM 6 pm Friday March 10, 2017 Freedom City Jann Fa-Re had been asked to enter. A recruiter had been trying to get people at Claremont to sign up. Jann had seen plenty of the many brightly colored stands that had appeared in Freedom and had advertised this "street fighting" event. It had been all over the news: it would be held across the United States, and the prizes were pretty amazing. The eight semi finalists would win ten grand, the four finalists would also get a million dollar car, and the winner? "A prize beyond imagination." It had pulled the attention of martial artists from across the world. Some of the best fighters in the world would be fighting in this. His official invitation had been delivered in class. The invitation had been surprisingly plain. A simple envelope which contained a simple card. A square card of Manila color. It had a yellow and green taegeuk symbol on it with the trigrams for fire on the top, water on the bottom, thunder on the left, and mountain on the right. The word "Supreme" was on the top and "Ultimate" was on the bottom. The opposite side had a street intersection and a time. When Jann arrived at the intersection his opponent had already arrived. A young man in his twenties wearing a simple karate gi. Another man stood nearby and a few drones hovered in the air, both seemingly to record the fight and dissuade spectators from getting too close. "I'm Instructor Jacob Franz, it's a pleasure to meet you." The man said with a bow.

GM GM Midtown Mall 6:30 pm Friday March 10, 2017 It had been all over the news: a massive fighting competition would be held across the United States, and the prizes were pretty amazing. The eight semi finalists would win ten grand, the four finalists would also get a million dollar car, and the winner? "A prize beyond imagination." It had pulled the attention of martial artists from across the world. Some of the best fighters in the world would be fighting in this. Terrifica had started looking into this even before the first brightly colored stall had hit the streets. Millions of dollars did not just appear out of nowhere, yet almost all of this had popped up over night. It was strange to say the least. The maze of shell companies and shadow companies had been no real match to her intellect. Yet, someone saw something. One day, while out sleuthing into this new competition she found something: a plain envelope with the word Terrifica on the front. Inside it was a square card of Manila color. It had a yellow and green taegeuk symbol on it with the trigrams for fire on the top, water on the bottom, thunder on the left, and mountain on the right. The word "Supreme" was on the top and "Ultimate" was on the bottom. All of which looked fairly standard. What hadn't been standard were the words scribbled on the card: "Want a closer look?" Someone had decided to taunt her. Someone thought they were smarter. The opposite side had a place and a time. Friday March 10th, 2017 Midtown Mall 6:45 PM

GM 6 pm Friday March 10, 2017 Syke's gym The invitation had been surprisingly plain. A simple envelope which contained a simple card. A square of Manila color it had a yellow and green taegeuk symbol on it with the trigrams for fire on the top, water on the bottom, thunder on the left, and mountain on the right. The word "Supreme" was on the top and "Ultimate" was on the bottom. The opposite side had a street intersection and a time. Two hours from now. Mali hadn't really done much to enter. She had stopped at one of the many brightly colored stands that had appeared in Freedom and had advertised this "street fighting" event. It had been all over the news: it would be held across the United States, and the prizes were pretty amazing. The eight semi finalists would win ten grand, the four finalists would also get a million dollar car, and the winner? "A prize beyond imagination." It had pulled the attention of martial artists from across the world. Some of the best fighters in the world would be fighting in this.

GM Emerald City University Friday March 7, 7:45 pm. The god of war did not ask. The god of war commanded. Which made the situation in Kimo Kahananui's dorm rather odd. A man in his mid thirties was in military reliefs and a tight hair cut. A dog tag hung around his neck, and he casually swung a Koa wood mace around. His eyes glowed a deep red as he watched Kimo enter the room and bow slightly. "Pack a bag of clothing Kid Kamehameha." the avatar of Ku ordered. He passed a plain invitation to Kimo. "There is more than meets the eye to this. You qualified and this will be an excellent test of your power." "How did you get this?" Kimo asked, and received no answer. He looked down at the card, Emerald City University Quad 8:45 pm March 10th. "This is in an hour." "A warrior is always prepared, and the locale is not far."

GM March 18th, Saturday, 2017, 12.45AM The Teahouse, University Hill Music sizzled and pulsed in a steady, danceable beat, lights on the floor, walls and ceiling flashing and shifting in hues and frequencies calculated to avoid causing seizures in 98% of all epilepsy patients, casting the patrons dancing and relaxing in dizzying shades. Waiters and waitresses in mini versions of Edo period costumes skated through the blare, carrying trays and infectious smiles that had gone into overtime. Most of the patrons were students or faculty(or, in rare cases, both), forming and breaking cliques and clusters on the dizzying dance floor, laughing at each others' in-jokes as they sipped at the Teahouse's specialty teas. As usual in places like this, there were smiling men in button-up shirts that hid extensive tattoos. These were the only people allowed to serve alcohol in the Teahouse, which made their tables some of the most attractive spots in the club, the smiling men and their stock constantly ringed by happy, raucous crowds. Jun, Kimo's self-proclaimed best friend, was doing her darndest to get both of them into one of those crowds, pulling him along behind her by the hand. "Come on, Imo! They got the good stuff tonight! We gotta breeze if we want some!" Pausing so abruptly Kimo almost collided with her Jun looked earnestly into the junior's eyes "This is the koro of student life, Imo! If we miss out on this, we might as well be like the qikes waiting for Archetech to give 'em a handout! These nights are for living!" Meanwhile, a lanky Native kid slipped in through the back door, nodding and smiling at the bouncer before turning to nervously eye the floor. His backpack and tied-up long hair weren't exactly club standard, and Ishmael Redwater silently seethed at the need to physically change. But he kept resolutely calm, waving away one of the waiters who skated close with a menu and taking up an edge seat so he could watch more easily. It was happening tonight. Swallowing hard, Ishmael drummed his fingers on the table. Suddenly he wondered why he hadn't just waited outside and changed then. Gritting his teeth, Ishmael slumped into his chair, watching like a hawk, watching for his chance to be a hero...

GM March 2nd, 2017 7:30 PM Claremont Academy Claremont Academy was not like your normal high school. It had living places for students. It had teachers with super powers. If you were late to class because you were fighting crime, some teachers gave you a pass. And yet, in some ways it was your normal high school experience. There were tests and homework. There was isolation in the cafeterias. There were bullies. Three of which were ganging up on a young man who they had already thrown to the ground. His books had been scattered across the field and they were taking turns beating on him. "Ok enough already." Another student said. She took a sip on a frappuccino as she glanced at her watch. "I don't know what's up here, but just leave him alone." "Or what?" one of the bullies asked. "12 Hz." The girl said before raising her hand. The hand and air blurred, as she sent a vibration wave straight at the three bullies who didn't grab their ears, but their eyes. "Scram before I up the volume. Don't be messing with any of Kas Masters friends." Without being told twice the three bullies dispersed. Kas walked up and helped the guy up. "You ok John? Geez those guys roughed you up good. You could probably swing back at least a little." She held up her hands and sipped the frappuccino again. "I definitely won't blame you if you don't want to do the tutoring later."

Claremont’s Infirmary GM Post Claremont’s Nurses office was like most schools you would find, except you wouldn’t find some of the injuries in most places. Today there was a minor plasma burn from an experiment gone wrong and a phasing accident that looked more painful than it apparently was. Compared to that Possie Park’s broken arm seemed pretty mundane. Of cause this wasn’t a place that Casey seemed often, if at all really, with an almost indestructible body wounds and breaks were thankfully very rare. Unfortunately her brain hadn’t got the memo and she was here for a really intensive headache, bordering on a migraine, that even caused her vision to blur a little on the edges.

8PM, Febuary 25th, 2017. Morley's. The scene for a fundraiser for the the medical costs of some sick police officers. It was hard to imagine Amir al-Misri attending a more down at heels event like this, at random. Yet, here he was. Without an invite, but with a fat checkbook. Of course he had reached out to the hospital and simply paid for all of the related bills. It wasn't announced either. Sure he could afford it, but frankly he liked being human sometimes. Even if, at about a hour in, and he showing his ability to drink alcohol with minimal effects. Hell he bet them they wouldn't been able to get a blood alcohol reading on the breathalyzer at the end of the night. It would seem that for some aspects of halaal the super powered billionaire with movie star looks did not keep (yes he stated a good bit of his lot in life was luck). Pork was right out though. And at this moment he was laughing loudly, at a joke told by one Detective Kirkendahl, a blond man in an suit that was a bit too large, as if he had lose weight recently. The clap on the detective's back was a bit, meaty swat, though without any super-strength behind it. "... he... he was... caught by his... Ah... on the fence? Ahhhhh-hahahahahahahaha!" He pounded on the table, managing to catch the pint glass before it fell over, as his shoulder shoot with mirth.

One of Claremonts Many Tech Labs, Well past bedtime GM Post Claremont tended to attract the some of the best and brightest teachers from around the world. One of those was Divina Khan a engineer and technologist from the UK who whilst taught the basics seemed to be just as happy explaining the bleeding Edge technologies coming from the Atoms or Archetech. To help encourage those who technologies were of a more technological bent she’d set up a club named the Lunar Society, after some of the great industrialist and thinkers of her home in the 19th Century. As well as allowing the students to talk about idea that most students couldn’t understand she’d help arrange for the best couple of students to display their inventions at a local technological Expo. WIth some of the best technological companies sending people to the Expo it was a chance for the more senior students to get noticed and find work in their chosen fields, or for some just to prove that there ideas would work. Divina had also arrange late access for some of the Tech Lab’s so they could work on their invention out of hours, and right now sakurako was taking advantage of this arrangement.

6:50 pm February 25th, 2017 Earth-Prime Freedom City The arrival of an extra dimensional entity to earth prime was strange enough. Oh sure it happened, but it was rare for it to happen the way it had. An entire pirate ship sailing out of a shadow as the sun dropped below the horizon? It was odd to say the least. The black streak that had left the ship faster than most people could track? Concerning. The black streak raced through Freedom. Reports over the next few minutes began to come in. Crimes being stopped by a black specter of death. A bone hook hand and a terrible voice. A long black coat and a skull for his mask with the left eye blacked out. A speedster that bullets passed straight through as it stopped crimes in the slums of the city. "Have ye seen someone like me, ye scurvy dogs?" Most crooks survived the encounters. Killers and the like? Many were left maimed at the least by slashes from the hook. All the while the sun sun began to set on this new ship in foreign waters.

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.

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 Sunday, February 12th, 2017 Silberman’s Books, West End, Freedom City 2:34 PM It was a fairly busy day at Silbermann’s, Sundays usually were. Still, when all the sudden two people appeared out of nowhere outside, some eyebrows were raised. One of them was easy to recognize, self-pronounced Freedom’s HOTTEST newcomer and occasional guest Bonfire. As usual in streetwear, with his signature smoking head. The other one was more of a mystery. A hero in full costume, holding a pizza box in hand. They exchanged a few words before entering the store, with Bonfire (unsurprisingly) making a beeline to the counter, even if he had to wait for a few moments due to the line. - The police had arrived soon afterwards, and after turning over the two Dragons, and a few exchanged words, mainly the police thanking the two heroes, it was time to get coffee. Bonfire gave a few instructions, and then, he and Hyperactive were in the West End, in front of Silbermann’s Books. “There we go. Some of the best coffee in FC, and I know the owner.”

March 2017 Wading Way The Blanchard Center (Freedom's Fourth Best Conference Venue!) 6PM Down below on the conference room floor, the tech representatives, executives, and families were circulating, spending the last couple of hours on the conference floor before supper started at 6:30. Through their ranks, a predator stalked - though you wouldn't have known it to look at him. His suit and tie didn't fit exactly right - he needed specially cut suits to accommodate his binder anyway, and his arms were considerably bulkier than his counterpart's in this dimension, but plenty of teenage guys didn't quite fit into the suits designed for an adult's frame anyway. He'd left most of his gear on the rooftop across the street, the same place he'd used as a base to spy on this place (by means of binoculars by night), so here he just looked like any other smart teenager with an eye for miniaturized portable computers. Just the sort of thing he could use to make a really awesome bolt.... One eye closed, he sighted down the length of one particular chip, getting a strange look from the man behind the table. "Just looking," he commented, setting the chip back down. "What kind of heat tolerance do you have here?" The crowd of strangers moving from table to table behind him was hardly on his mind at all - well, relatively speaking, anyway.

GM March 15, Wednesday, 11.33AM, 2017 ASTRO Labs West, Emerald City University, Emerald City, Oregon "...Which brings us to one of Professor Zediker's running experiments, transmission and reception of ZPE radiation between dimensional points!" With a final, flourished tap of a button on the numberpad, the door beside Dr. Razko segmented and retreated into the wall, letting the small crowd of humans and the super-advanced super-powered android into an antechamber overlooking the experiment proper. The rented convention floor was crammed with setups like this, small mini-buildings holding this or that portion of revolutionary super-science too dangerous for the open air. Anyone walking into the converted Worlds Fair complex could feel the electricity humming in the floor. The "Sponsored by REDSHIFT ENERGIES" logos were perhaps not in the best of taste, but they stood out for their graceful simplicity next to the clumsy programmer art in evidence elsewhere. Behind walls thicker than most humans are broad, strategically-placed windows gleaming with frost allowed for a fairly clear view of a massive ring ten feet in diameter. Energy crackled in brief, brutal discharges from the central white void, while the black outer rim bent the bolts back inside. Ice clung to the walls and ceiling, radiating from the ring. A few technicians inside monitored control stations surrounding the apparatus while several more observed from the antechamber. One of them, a robust and energetic white man with iron-grey hair and a silver goatee, white dress shirt, black tie and slacks watched the ring intently behind slim square glasses. Starting at the entrance of Razko and the visitors, the man recovered rapidly and glided majestically towards them, all smiles and crinkly-eyed grandfatherly charm. "Welcome, glad to have you! As you can see, me and my team have managed in a few weeks what took Doctor Atom and his descendants years. A stable interdimensional portal, looping a burst of radiation in and out of an endless array of realities! And, unlike last time, no risk of robot dinosaur attacks!" That got a resounding chorus of laughter from the Emeraldites, a strained smile from Dr. Ann Razko and a polite stare from the ASTRO Labs representative at the back of the party. Stepping forward, the bespectacled blonde hurried to get things back on track "Professor, we both work at the ECU's Parker Building, and your portal there is at least twice as powerful as this one, but both emit the same amount of energy. Would you explain why that's relevant?" "Certainly! You see, Ann, the Parker Portal is less concentrated, there's more space for energy to escape but that space decompresses it as it leaves the portal. This one has a much tighter beam but is also less stable. It'll collapse in twelve hours. The one I made at Eeseeyou will last longer than I do! Plenty of time to refine it and start the next age of humanity." "Which you define-" "By expansion!" Zediker's steely eyes caught those of Archetech West's rep and the most powerful hero on the Pacific seaboard "Citizen, what do you think? Colonizing other Earths by 2020 or 2025?"

GM Nizhny Novgorod Nizhegorod Oblast Russia Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 1:00 PM (5:00 AM Eastern) It would take special cause for Comrade Frost to find himself called back to Russia on a mission. Especially serving under official Freedom League capacity. Special cause like a series of disappearances with no trace left behind. Including those inside of the Kremlin. Rumors were starting to spread about Baba Yaga returning and stealing "naughty children". As the only member of the People's Heroes still serving since the last great battle against Baba Yaga, Comrade Frost was called in secretly. Sandman, the guest in question, was brought in a special consultant by Comrade Frost, as he was told not to tell the proper Freedom League about the mission, political pride preventing sharing with the world a potential threat arising from out of Russia. That was if there was any truth to the rumors to begin with. After all, many things went bump in the night...

GM Bayview Heights Bayview, Freedom City New Jersey Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 5:30 PM So an Avian royal, a psilent human weapon, an elementally empowered university student, and an undead magician walk into a bar. No it's not a set up. This odd collection of heroes were investigating a biker gang that had been rumored to have a supply of zombie powder they wished to get back on the streets. Even managing to successfully track down the biker's favorite dive bar, nestled away in the affluent part of Southern Freedom, Aka Bayview. The plan was for Errant to keep them mentally cloaked while they scoped out the inside. That was until he turned his head to the television and heard the Atlantean declaration of war. All of a sudden his attention faltered for the slightest of moments and they became visible in the middle of the bar. Completely surrounded by bikers.

GM The Bridges connecting North and South Emerald Mallory Bay, The Emerald Cities, Washington and Oregon Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 6:00 PM The Emergency Civil Defense Siren blared throughout the city. Atlantis had sent warning ahead of time of an attack through an encrypted military frequency. It wasn't long before local seismic activity changed drastically, with scientists able to predict the fact that a massive tsunami was coming for the cities. Coupled with rush hour traffic, this meant that the bridges connecting the sister cities were filled to the brim. Defenseless, as the waves could be seen in the distance. Nearing by the minute. The frantic sense of fear overwhelming the drivers did nothing to speed up the egress issue. In fact, people started getting into car accidents in a desperate bid to escape the bridges. Unintentionally trapping themselves and others and dooming them to their fate. That was unless aid happened to arrive in a timely manner.

GM All Over the City Bedlam City, Wisconsin Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 5:30 PM Although it was a day away, Bedlam City was beginning to feel a whole lot like Groundhog's Day. No, there weren't any furry little creatures predicting the future from the comfort of their little burrows. No, much like Phil Connors the entire city was caught in an endless loop. The denizens of Bedlam found themselves sharing a recurring nightmare for the past week. A deep voice bellowing that "She be brought to him." Egyptian imagery and other incomprehensible babble about scorpions flooding their minds. Before returning to the waking nightmare that was life in Bedlam. Suffice to say, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who cared about the going ons in Freedom City. The Atlantean King's announcement went under the radar as the sleepless city grew concerned with local worries. With the noted exception of Dr. Stoppleman, Curator of the Bedlam Museum whose live podcast came to an abrupt stop in the middle of streaming, the distinct sound of glass breaking and furniture being thrown around the last things viewers heard.