Search the Community

GM Waterfront, Freedom City June 12th, 2017 Approximately 11 PM The heat of the day had faded to a cooler night, warm, not oppressively hot. Clouds above passed over the moon. The air smelled of saltwater by the docks. Four vehicles, two SUVs, two cars, pulled up to a modest two story office building. The men and women that got out of the vehicles were dressed in stylish, seasonal wear. Various bags and briefcases were shuffled into the building. Surrounding the central office were a series of smaller buildings and shipping containers arrayed carefully. Most of them, however, were sitting long in disuse, and the office building was maintained, but not often used.

April 30, 2017 Freedom City Riverside Park 7PM It was a quiet enough afternoon for the Cline family, or at least one part of it. Richard Cline had always been an involved father (sometimes to Holly and Will's frustration) but he'd made a special point to step in and get involved in their lives after they'd all brought home baby Bryant Cline. Paige hadn't actually objected to adopting his infant father rather than see him put into the foster system - but he also knew her well enough after decades together to know what it meant for her to open their home like that. So he'd made a special point to be the father to Bryant that Bryant had never been to him, and if it was all strange and dysfunctional, well their family had always been that at least a little bit and they'd gotten through all right. Tonight, the day before the big May 1 charity Race for the Cure that he and Will had entered along with some other Freedom City heroes, he and his kids were sitting around a picnic table in Riverside Park, waiting for their fellow racers to arrive. Holly had Bryant out from his carrier and had laid him on his stomach on a blanket on the ground - but he wasn't staying there! Now a chubby nine-month-old full of energy, the bald-headed tot kept 'dashing' his way off the blanket, clutching his lovey in one hand and pulling himself along with the other arm and both his knees. <Go Bryant!> thought Holly, snapping some pictures with the new phone that had been her recent twelfth birthday present. <No more babies in chains!>

Earth-Phoenix. United States of America. New Jersey. Several miles outside of Atlantic City. June 21, 2012 (Earth-Phoenix time). 11:30 PM. The young woman was short, barely five feet tall. She was pale and thin, as if she’d been sick for a long time and perhaps still was. She was lucky if she weighed 90 pounds. There was definitely an air of fragility about her. She stood alone, dressed in a worn black dress and heavy black boots, a mysterious bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Her hair was jet black, straight, and down to her shoulder blades. Her eyes were blue, and strikingly so. Most people who saw her would see someone in need of help, a pitiable example of humanity. However, what most people saw was not the truth. This was the most powerful Black Mage on Earth-Phoenix. This was Blackrose, leader of the runaway children’s group named the Exiles. Normally, she wouldn’t be alone like this. Her physical fragility was no act. However, fellow Exiles founder Radical Dreamer (owner of the most powerful variant of future sight on Earth-Phoenix) had insisted she come alone to this place. A field by the sea, near a small town in New Jersey. She had come alone, but the rest of the main Exiles were close by, in that small town. Both Flare and Windstorm could be here in under half a minute, Flare especially. All the same, it was…weird and unsettling to be alone. Blackrose realized with a start that she hadn’t been entirely alone like this in years. Ever since the quest for what graced her wrist. And even then, she’d soon encountered Cory, and the rest was history. “Are you sure, Dreamer?” Blackrose spoke to the warm night air. Dreamer was slightly telepathic as well, and she was well within his range. She frowned slightly, listening to one of her oldest friends speak in her mind. “No, it just seemed weirder than usual for you. I forgot I even had this dress.” She listened a little more. “Okay, so the dimension piercing spell? I mean, that’s weird. I’ve never used it before. I didn’t even know you knew it existed.” Dreamer spoke more, only for her mental ears. “Yeah, I know. I’m just worried about opening a hole to there. That’s the blank spot between dimensions, Dreamer. It’s really dangerous.” She sighed, listening to him again. “Yeah, you’re never wrong, I know. It’s up to me to do it right. So shush, oh Radical One.” Blackrose extended her hand out (the one with the bracelet on it) and a quarterstaff seemed to form (right in her hand) out of the darkness of the night itself. It was wooden, but so black light itself seemed unable to fully escape it. She spoke words in a language that had been dead (destroyed for the evil its speakers once did) for millennia when the Messiah walked the earth, and what appeared to be a black dust storm sprung up out of nowhere. However, the “dust” was Black Magic and the wind was her will. Thus nothing was disturbed. She spoke faster, quickly reaching a crescendo. The staff in her hand somehow got blacker, and a hole in the fabric of reality tore open in front of her. Depositing on the ground one Wesley Knight, currently going by the superhero name Vitalas, late of Freedom City. Which, to his surprise, he was no longer in. Despite seeming to be in the exact same geographical location. Blackrose spoke a few more words in that terrible language, and the hole closed before anything else came through. Thankfully. She leaned on her staff, a little tired. She’d never had the stamina for staying up late, among so many other things. “Are you all right?” She spoke to the bewildered stranger. “Going through the Void can be traumatic, or so I’ve read. Ah, and I didn’t summon you. You have someone else to thank for your trip to the Void. I just pulled you out of it.”

Friday, May 26th 3:40PM Main Lawn, Claremont Academy Team Industrial Light and Magic were under a tree, reading and studying. Besides her book back, the tall blonde had brought a bag of snacks as well as her hedgehog Percival, though he was curled up in a pocket. She was sprawled, wearing a a vintage AC/DC 'Thunderstruck' t-shirt under her acid washed coverall shorts, and a pair of floral tights underneath, her sandals off to the side. A book in hand, as the other held an apple that she was munching on. She had recently dyed her hair, making it an admix of faded blonde and pink. After some time she sets the book down, carefully on her chest, over the pocket where her hedgie was, and she lifted her head up to look at Hannah. "Do you ever look at the science textbooks, and just say 'Well I violate this law. And this law, and this law... Are they just guidelines more than rules?' Because I am having that right now." Hannah's roomie was often taking these little asides. And she was still fulfilling her efforts to drag Hannah outside as often as their schedules permitted, even if it was just coffee or smoothie runs.

GM Coalition Victory Station The Shift Work Bar, Brickstown March 24, 2017 (Terran Calendar) The Shift Work was hardly the most upstanding establishment. Tucked right in the heart of Brickstown the bar was an easy stop off for the various workers in the manufacturing plants of this part of the station. The patrons were mostly honest working people, looking for a place to rest after a long day's work. Some of course were looking to do a little more, get into fights or get drunk on cheaper and stronger stuff than you could find in plenty of other places in Lor space. People from around the galaxy, people who were in danger of this new menace. The disappearances had been getting worse. More and more people were vanishing or else being found dead. All of them were either drained of blood or they were left flash frozen. Rumors were that some metropolis on Earth, millions of light years away was facing a similar problem. There was an air of unease at the Shift Work. Two patrons had been last seen leaving this bar. In one corner a patron watched the bar, waiting. A Green Xobron, an uncommon sight in this part of the galaxy. His two pairs of arms were folded as he slowly used one of his tails to raise a drink to his lips. Life goes on, no matter how hard someone tries to stop it. Gear thought to himself, it was inspiring. The killings had felt odd, and targeting those who would have little impact on the galaxy, the tell tale mark of a time criminal. He would know. So he waited, and watched, for something that felt off.

GM Early evening Saturday Night, Bedlam City, April the 8th. Fat Joe was rotund as ever. He was a tall man, bald, always wearing sunglasses in the worst of weather, with a smile that nearly split his face and wobbled his jowls. He knew plenty of people in Bedlam, and got on with most of them. He sported a missing front tooth from the one time his friendly demeanour just got some crook up the wrong way. But, as he said, he was damned if he was ever gonna stop smiling. Fat Joe sold hot dogs on the street. They weren't particularly good, but they weren't bad either. More onions that meat, usually. He just liked selling them, and people like buying them. He liked telling jokes, and demanded his customers tell him good ones. If it was a good one, they got extra mustard and two sausages in the bread. He didn't make a whole lot of money, but he didn't starve either. Clearly, he didn't starve. He was 25 stone, easy. "Say, Smith, what's brown and sticky?" he asked the Tattered Man, giving him his toothy smile. "And how about I give you extra onions if you help me out?"

May 17th 2PMish. Girl's dorm, lounge area. The staff had told Hannah who her roommate would be for next year. The daughter of the hero Asad. Well, they didn't tell Hannah who she was related to, but the gossip mill had started, and Corinne's parentage, and everything else was preceding her. To her chagrin. Given her large gap of experience regarding all of this compared to some others giving her a roomie was the best bet. And Hannah, being the kind of person she was, felt like the best choice. Corinne just... nodded along to it. She was waiting in out of the lounges in the girl's dormitory. She was people watching, and slouched in the chair which sort of hid her height, as she had on a faded band t-shirt for Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, with her denim jacket, short denim cutoffs, over a pair of plain black tights, and her short teal sneakers. She wasn't thrilled at this, but... really... she wasn't mad. She was numb. In shock, and she hoped she didn't make Hannah mad because she was out of sorts.

Thursday, June 1st 2017 10:00AM Riverside Community Savings and Loan Sunny and Humid The blustery spring thaw had long since gave way to the balmy heat of the season and with it the accompanying "good cheer". Of course none of this was helped by a pace that could only be called glacial, in some final and cruel irony, with which the line moved. The line to the business window was little better given the number of business owners and managers grabbing extra change for the weekend ahead of the rush and the highly cash dependant nature of the artisanal shops that dotted the tree lined boulevards of riverside made it all the more necessary. Ray was reminded not for the first time why he usually made this busywork for an apprentice. Behind the almost angelic being, Ace Danger stood nonchalantly in his disguise as he waited to empty a safe deposit box left over from his brief semi disowned period in the late eighties. He wasn't even entirely sure what he had left in the riverside stash but clearly it had seemed important enough to go above and beyond the usual bus station locker that was the norm for that less than exemplary period of his long life. Idly examining the man in front of him he was much distracted by the twisting runes hidden by the more vibrant inks of the painted man lest he might have taken note of the unseasonably heavy coats of the men who slowly filtered into the busy bank and arrayed themselves around the lobby with practiced precision.

Claremont Academy Campus May 15, 2017 It was a strange feeling, walking aimlessly about the campus. It would be another hour and change before the next meeting Corinne Conrad had with yet another member of the Claremont Academy faculty and she'd been told to take the time to familiarize herself with the facilities. In the middle of the day, however everyone she came across was hurrying to their next class or making good on lunch period plans with their friends, an active bustle which made the Los Angeles transplant feel a bit like an intruder. Even at a leisurely pace her long strides quickly took her away from the main building and out into the pleasant spring weather until she came across the well-tended zen garden. In most places in Freedom City the carefully raked sands might have seemed a bit ostentatious but something about the shade of the surrounding trees and the way it nestled into a slight hill in the grounds made the spot of tranquility feel perfectly at home. "Sorry, are you Corinne?" a voice called from behind her with a distinct British accent and a faint lilt. Two girls approached from the way she'd just come, the speaker giving her a small wave and a smile. A lavender hijab framed a warm expression and fashionably complimented her light jacket and dark skirt. Despite the uneven ground leading up to the garden her steps had the sort of grace Corinne associated with dancers. A step behind her was fit girl with a more neutral expression beneath round sunglasses and dark hair pulled back. She wore a sleeveless black top which clearly revealed powerfully athletic muscles, flexing slightly as she hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of ripped jeans. At a guess the new transfer would have said the pair were a little older than her, close to wrapping up their junior year. "I'm Faiza," the first girl continued, smile widening as she met Corinne's eyes, "and this is Sofia." Her companion raised one hand in a muted greeting.

Monday, June 13th, 2016 AEGIS Headquarters, City Center, Freedom City 8:21 AM A Monday morning. Nobody likes Monday mornings. Not even the men and women at AEGIS. No matter how much they liked their job, they also liked sleeping, and Monday mornings generally didn’t allow for the latter, even more so when employed by the American Elite Government Intervention Service. Among the many employees currently working, both in the Federal Building, and the actual headquarters below, were Agents Ethan Stone and James Warne, codenames Upgrade and Adept. After a run-in with an upstart hero a month ago, the two of them had been working to get the permission for a formal AEGIS Investigation. Not an easy task by any means. The company was spending a lot of money on their legal team, doing the best to make sure AEGIS would not come after them. Amongst them, Jonah Cullstone. Harvard Law. He had been making sure that any progress was denied, every little vulnerability covered. And not only was there opposition from outside. Many people inside AEGIS also believed that it was best to allow Neutron Industries to continue what they had been doing, they were important to the government. World needs power, and so long as they weren’t doing anything illegal that could be proven, there was no reason to interrupt. Not that that had stopped the two agents. They continued doing whatever they could to gain permission. And they were not alone, a variety of people all across AEGIS gave them their support. When James Warne entered his office that Monday, he was greeted by a familiar face. Vincent Clarkson. Clarkson had been assigned to the last assignment dealing with Bonfire and Neutron Industries, and had helped the agents with their efforts to get permission. His face showed exhaustion, and a smell of coffee accompanied him. In his hand, a file, only a few pages of paper inside. “We’ve got the Go-Ahead.“

GM April 22, 2017 12:00 am Toys. There was always something fun about finding new toys. He remembered flipping through catalogs as a small child, trying to find the right thing to ask for. Enough money could buy almost any toy. But of course some toys were priceless. Sometimes people would share these toys. But he'd learned it was always easier to take and not ask. Who cared really? If they really wanted to keep the toys they would have taken better care of them. They wouldn't leave them lying around. He activated the process of "ordering" his new toys. There was a flash of blue light. That was the last thing each of the heroes had seen. That flash had dulled to a city street. A street that could have been any street in Freedom. Kind of. Dozens of cars were on the street unmoving. The towers looked right, but there was no one around. No one save the other heroes in a similar state of recovering from a stupor.

Syke's Gym. 3:00 PM, Jan. 23rd. It was an empty boxing gym, well more or less. Except for two people, Amir al-Misri, and Anastasia van Cleef. In other aspects, though it was clean, well lit and maintained. The mats pristine. It as a good neutral ground to learn from the daughter of someone he sort of kind of knew in business. "You're a colossal ass," came the snark statement from Ms. van Cleef, assistant, indispensable 'Dragon of the Summit.' She tapped away furiously on her phone, not deigning to lift her head and look at Amir making a colossal... well what she really wanted to say she wasn't going to. Not that she was going to be prudent and keep her mouth shut, but she really didn't want to pick that fight. Though, insulting him from the sidelines was fitting in with the ice cold blonde, in her smart grey suit. For his part Amir stood off to the side, well in the ring ring, leaning on the ropes. He was more or less dressed for learning how to fight better. Though it was more dressed in a sort of, he didn't know what else to wear type get up of t-shirt and boxing shorts, with his normal burgundy and gold coloring. "Jealous? I understand, completely." Smirking back at her, "As my ass is gosh-darned adorable, I will have you know." "Whatever it takes for you to feel better about yourself, Amir," was the tart reply, and staccato annoyed rat-tat-tat of her fingers on the screen..

GM May 28th, Sunday, 2017, 5.51PM Maniac Park, Downtown Bedlam, Wisconsin The last set... It was finally here. The last step on a journey across America. The last song that would put an unquiet soul to rest. Val had met the shade named Jane Westerling months back, on a tour through LA. A cover of Michael Jackson's hit 'Billie Jean' had been interrupted by the lights shorting out, a spectral wail and the appearance of a translucent floating figure with every limb out of joint, her head twisted around and her enormous eyes on the back of her head. Thankfully, Jane had just been trying to cheer and her powers had gotten out of hand. After making her earnest apologies and providing her own illumination of shimmering ghostlight, she'd dropped backstage after the show to gush and make a very odd request. "The music makes me whole, Ms. Cain. If I could hear more like it...I could remember myself. Where I can rest. Will you carry me there?" All had become clear as the weeks went by, Val sharing her body with the bubbly, now-healed ghost. No longer monstrous, the music of her long-gone teenage years had formed her back into a flickering, tiny brunette with a small, catlike mouth and large green eyes. She couldn't go far from Val, not that she wanted to. After so long alone it had been a relief to meet someone who could talk to and see her all the time again. Most of the time, she stayed in Val's head and made occasional small talk or went on stream-of-consciousness rambles about this or that, occasionally hitting on a common interest. She had been a music fanatic as a kid growing in Woolverton back in 1983 and when she'd turned 15 in '84 had struck out into the world in a stolen Chevy, following the Star Gods, the greatest musicians of her time. Four years, many life lessons and one lost finger later, she'd finally come home. Then something had happened, she had died been shattered into pieces. A part of her in every place she'd heard the songs she'd loved so much. Right then, Val could feel Jane jittering with excitement as the first chords were struck. The crowd of tired-looking Bedlamites that had gathered in the sprawling, ill-kept park weren't nearly so enthusiastic, but they'd at least made signs. Val could see the less flattering ones at the back torn down, their holders the target of a perfunctory scrap. Everyone not involved kept their eyes front and ignored the shouts and curses drifting in the air. The people in suits around the stage weren't so relaxed. Valerie Cain's security detail were used to rough towns, but they'd been on edge since arriving in Bedlam, Wisconsin, almost paranoid thanks to the rundown city's enormous crime rate. But that couldn't stop the music or dampen the spirits of 'Sweet Child of Mine'

From an early age, Jaden Maxwell had showed a love for cooking and baking, and was surprisingly talented at it too. Even before entering high school, he was able to confidently fry simple meals like eggs and bacon, or even put together mouth-watering chocolate chip muffins for a bake sale. Needless to say, he was very much within his element when making tasty delicacies. The sight and smell of freshly-baked bread and rolls alone was enough to remind him of the good times he had growing up...and that he still had a lot to live for. Wanting to give something back to the locals, he had opened up a small bakery on Riverside. A humble and modest shop that was set up like a square and painted with warm colors such as white and soft browns. Tables and chairs were set up outside and surrounded by rows of bushes with blooming flowers and roses to give off a pleasant, inviting atmosphere. A large billboard was above the oak door displaying a large tree that had a variety of sandwiches and pastries growing on its branches. Plastered on it were the words: "Homegrown Breads. Have A Slice Of Quality." "Thank you, come again!!" Jaden called out to his latest customers as they left the store carrying their orders. He sighed and nodded to himself with a smile before turning back to fill out another order. Even though the bakery was just getting off its feet, it had already attracted a nice amount of business which likely had to do with the delicious food that came in considerable portions yet at very generous prices too. The young man took a moment to himself to look up at a portrait of a younger version of himself sitting with his Aunt and Uncle under the Christmas tree. Warm smiles everywhere. Hopefully, one day they'd be able to be together again...but for now, there were orders to be fulfilled.

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...

Bedlam City, 11:57 PM, May 20th, 2017 John was sitting in a corner. He had a brown bag bottle in his hand, but it was just water. He wore an old rayon jacket over a stained t-shirt and a pair of tattered, holey shoes. He kept his head down. He was just one more homeless man, one more bum. This face was an older man, graying, paunched, haggard. Looked like a man with a hard life. He didn't even look up when he heard the car stop, or the men get out of the car. There were two of them, one was noticeably heavier than the other, had heavier steps. He didn't look up when he heard the shuffle of footsteps heading into the alleyway. He didn't need to look up, he just sipped his brown bag water. There were more people in the alley, come from the other side. They were talking in hushed tones. This one was a gun deal. Someone was selling a couple of handguns to someone else. This one was important. His hearing was so much sharper than it used to be. He could hear the rats in the building behind him, skittering in the darkness. More importantly, he could hear the voices, the gun deal. The seller and buyer were easy to discern. He'd follow the buyer, first. Get the guns.

GM Saturday, April 29th, 2017 10:04 AM Claremont Academy Parking Lot, Freedom City It was a day of some importance. A few weeks back the school’s staff had announced that there’d be school-funded driving lessons happening soon. And today was the first day of them. The instructor was no unknown, Jeremy Joseph, a stunt man and licensed driving instructor. Why exactly he had been chosen was the subject of many a rumour around the academy, but most had some suspicion. The lessons were scheduled to start at 10:30, but Joseph arrived at the parking lot a fair amount of time earlier. He was driving a fairly average looking car, most likely second hand. Two seats, not very spacious. But its brakes certainly seemed to work well, as he stopped on the empty lot, and got out of the car, to meet the few teens that had already arrived. “Good Morning. I hope you’ve all read the theory I provided. We’ve got a lot to cover, so let’s get started as soon as possible. “

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 A concealed sidewalk outside Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City, USA, the Earth May 1st, 2017, 2.45PM "Well, that's a bust" Sharon "Tyger" Sheffield, teen genius, kicked the smoking apparatus moodily, still smarting from its failure. Turning to the other Claremont students who had come out for a good time in another dimension without Mrs. Tragoria breathing down their necks about local customs and protocol, Sharon shrugged "Sorry, guys! Guess I'll have to try again next week." With a wave of her hand and a burst of exotic particles from the gizmos hidden under her gloves, the shambles of what had been a miniature replica of the Atom Family's Gateway winked out of existence. "What? Come on!" "What a waste a'time..." "Xerynarrg!" The other students drifted away, in pairs and singly, heading out into Bayview, taking to the sky and otherwise leaving now that the chance had come and gone. Blowing a noisy sigh, Sharon glanced at the last remaining student. "Hey, Annie," she smiled glumy, wiping a streak of oil from her face "still here? I've got some stuff I wanna do before the day's over, could use some company."

GM 11:00 PM, Friday May 5th The message had mostly gone to spam in ArchAngel's troubalert app. It was useful to have to find emergencies nearby and usually didn't cause much trouble. However a few of the spammed messages had made it through. Yo n00b, We been watching. You probably think you're pretty great huh? Well guess what? You wrong lol. Anyways, we're gonna pull off a crime so 1337 you won't be able to stop us. You mad bro? So n00b you wanna try and stop us? Party on Aspen Drive, gonna be someone's last birthday. Try to stop our mad skillz. We dare you. Gonna pwn you, TR011 There was only one party on Aspen street that night. A birthday party. Miss Michelle Sands was turning seventeen and pulling out all the stops. Well so it said on the internet link that had been attached to the message. No parents in one of those huge mansions in the neighborhoods near Claremont. No invitation needed, and if you were over 21 you had better be bringing booze.

GM Elysian Forest, York Hill, Emerald Enclave Retreat Cabin , Emerald City, Oregon "...I am so glad to see so many unfamiliar faces here today!" Max Mars grinned out at the crowd from the stage, artistically set into a rock slab cloven by a trickling stream. The meeting room was walled in glass and metal, the ceiling admitting light falling golden and green through the boughs of pines swaying high above. The hundreds of guests were scattered at low Japanese-style tables laden with delicacies from dozens of countries. They'd been through four other speakers, starting in the morning and interspersed with music and other entertainments. Mars was the fundraiser's host and had gone to extravagant lengths to impress on the visitors what a great idea it would be to help fund the preservation of the Pacific Coast rainforests. Or, more precisely, to help fund technology that would help protect them. "We don't all live here, but all of us need this and other natural resources to stay in business. We need these just to live, folks, without paying Mother Nature a tax Uncle Sam can only dream of. In particular I'd like to thank-" His bright green eyes flashed across the holoprompter embedded in his contact lenses, an inhman mind whirring over the unusual names literally faster than thought. "-Amir ibn Jafar ibn Abd al-Aziz al-Misri, of al-Misri Holdings and Antoinette Baudin of Danger International! Come on up, you two!" In the deep woods, the polite applause and brief swell of congratulatory music stood out even more than would in the city below. And the ringing seemed to last even longer than usual as the two were collected by ushers and brought on stage. Max Mars was a full foot shorter than Amir and even Tona towered over his leonine-haired head, which do nothing to shake the irrepressible glee in his cat-green eyes. Extending a vigorous handshake to both of them and an ostentatious air-kiss next to Tona's ear (his beard scratching her cheek), Mars nodded to the crowd "Why don't you say a few words, let us all know a little about the good people we'll be working with?" His grin and expectant looks from the other guests brooked no refusal.

GM April 17th, 2017, Emerald City University Something was swirling in the ether, a sensation that only the attuned could feel. And Kimo was one of those. A message from the Gods. It was a command, of sorts. Perhaps a request. Perhaps a challenge. Perhaps all. Into view swam Professor Gallagher, the elderly short man who always insisted on wearing too heavy clothes in too heavy heat. He was surely due retirement but he ran on hard will. His stick clicked on the floor of the university and then raised, a little unsteady, pointing at Kimo. Professor Gallagher was one of the Professors of ancient american history in the university, with some rather strange ideas he took to professing. He also taught Kimo. He was pointing him out to a woman in her thirties, a professional woman of enigmatic and magnetic look. Long and wild blonde hair fell around darker skin. Maybe she was Colombian, or Bolivian. Glasses gave a intelligent almost serious, and almost sad, look to her. The Gods had directed Kimo to help this woman. A moment later, the two were there. "This is Doctor Sanchez" explained the Professor. "Oncologist. You...ah...you know what that means, don't you?" said the Professor, testing the young man. "She has some notion of a cure for cancer. Mmmm. We should be so lucky. Except some of her ideas also are in keeping with mine. Anyway, she needs someone who knows a bit about history to help her and...." Somehow the will of the Gods had bent his mind to Kino. He didn't quite understand why, pausing, trying to work out the reason he had chosen Kino, but the Gods were strong and subtle. "...well I thought...you would be so good as to go on a field trip with her? I'm getting to old. Somewhere down the river, something....ancient, I think" he said, with mind once again foggy from divine interference.

GM Sunday, September 8th , 2017 The Ocean Floor, somewhere between North America and Europe 2 PM-ish? Joseph Walker had taken a few days off. Having worked throughout the Christmas season, he now had a few spare days he could take off. Not really having a lot of responsibilities outside of work had its benefits. Like, for example, taking a vacation. Usually, that included using a car or plane, maybe a bike. Especially if one wanted to leave the Isle. But, not it Joseph’s case. For him, taking a trip just about anywhere was a matter of walking. He’d left work on Friday and began to pack. By Saturday afternoon he’d fit everything he really needed into a small bag, one he could carry with him. And later on, he set off. Travelling through Wales was not too spectacular. He’d gotten on the evening train, and arrived early in the morning the day after. (Blame public transport for having to take a longer route). After a nice breakfast, he set off. Down the ocean floor, towards the west and slightly southwards. And from there on, he kept walking, running and swimming, for a few more hours. It would take quite some time to traverse the entire Atlantic, but it would make for an interesting trip already.

Monday, August 11, 2016 Emerald City, Oregon The long, ragged line of passengers spilled out of the jet liner, six hours of flight time taking their toll on legs and patience and attention. Tona Baudin did her best to keep her face together until she was able to get away from the crowd. She stood alone by herself for long minutes, focusing on her breathing and her thudding heart. Flying through the air -- such an impossible thing that people here handled so blandly! -- always got to her, and crowds always got to her, and the two together for so long left her feeling twitchy and breathless. For now she was just happy to be on the ground. In time she followed the signs and the crowds out to the main terminal of Benjamin Jacobs International airport and towards the luggage carousel. That, at least, was easy for her. No one else had brought along a bright orange hiking pack with a solid bow case webbed onto the side. No one else could probably heft it one-handed like she did, either, which earned her plenty of empty room when she swung it onto her back. Out on the street, Tona briefly wondered how she was supposed to go about hiring a taxi cab before she saw the big man with her name on a sign. He was broad-shouldered, with greying hair and a powerful, wearing the sort of brightly patterned tourist shirt the archer previously thought only existed in movies. He waved at her, pointing at a black SUV. "Antoinette Bawd-in, is that right? Glad as hell to meet ya, girl!"

GM Sunday, September 8th, 2017 Claremont Academy, Freedom City, New Jersey 2:24 PM School was about to start again. Winter break-slash-holiday break was about to be over. Most students had left the academy during the holidays, gone home to their families scattered all across the globe to celebrate. Lilly King was no different. She had left and headed back to Oregon to celebrate the holidays with her family, keeping up with her new friends through the wonders of social media and instant communications. She’d returned to Claremont late Saturday, to give her a day of time to settle back into the school life. So far, so good. Most people had arrived a bit earlier, or would only arrive sometime between Sunday and Monday. She’d gotten up at a (not very) reasonable time on Sunday, her sleep schedule still in holiday mode. And from there, she went on about her day as usual. Everything was as it normally was, when her phone notified her she’d gotten a message by Jann. Short, as usual. But, normally he got to the point immediately, which was a bit strange. Welcome back. Time to meet? Have things to discuss.