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April 2017 Claremont Growing up in what he now knew to be a small, closed community made it difficult for Riley to talk to strangers - and he tended to solve difficult problems by careful consideration. So it was that he'd earned a reputation for hanging around the quad staring at people and places before approaching them, which in all honesty hadn't done much to make him any friends outside of the small circle that centered around the people who'd fought Mr. Archer, exposed a cybernetic infiltration of Claremont, and kicked the ass of some of the top students of the school. They didn't have a name for themselves. Everyone already knew who they were. Considering his options carefully from the tree branch that he'd taken his lunch on, Riley finally decided to bite the bullet. Jumping down from his perch, he executed a neat little roll before walking up to the young woman just finishing her lunch outside, chattering little monkey in tow. "Hey, Sanderson!" He pitched his voice loud, so she knew he was coming. Even when he didn't mean to be, he was quiet - and Raina didn't like being snuck up on. He could appreciate that. "Gotta thing. You gotta minute?" He looked presentable enough, with nothing deadlier than a hatchet on his jean-clad hip, and a tablet from several years ago in his hand.

It had started out as a normal quiet day Dancia had been given a straightforward assignment. An interview with a young woman, Sabrina Locke, who had become an overnight success in her business. She should have noticed that the woman had been giving her strange looks when she wasn't looking. The interview was over, it was mostly a fluff piece so it didn't take long, Sabrina suddenly asked Dancia a question. "Would you like me to show you how I achieved my success?" Alarm bells should have rung right there and then, but Dancia smelt a story and that foolishly overcame her common sense.

When it came to walking through an empty park during night fall, the majority of people's opinions fell into one of two categories: The first category said they loved it for how romantic and tranquil it could be, giving certain people a chance to express how they truly felt without fear of being embarrassed in some way. The other category is that it was basically the equivalent of a death trap as there could be any number of seedy, unruly scumbags lying in wait to pounce on unsuspecting victims, beat them to a pulp, and rob them of all their valuables....and believe it or not, that was only if you were lucky. Tonight was a fine example of both categories playing out. A romantic couple whom we will call Shane and Julia had just been enjoying a peaceful night out, going about their business...when a group of hoodlums had approached them, demanding money if they wanted to live. The two had beaten a hasty retreat and managed to lose them within the woods...unfortunately, by the time they had done so, they had ended up well off the beaten trail and in the middle of nowhere. The two had wandered for some time to get back to the trail but to no avail. As time went on, Shane got more and more fed up with their current situation, "Julia, please tell me you got some reception already! I feel like we been wandering for hours and my feet are killing me!" "Oh quit your bellyaching, Shane," Julia rolled her eyes as she checked her phone and cursed to herself, "Darn it! Still nothing! At this rate, we're gonna be stuck out here all night!" "All night?! Please tell me you're joking..." Shane groaned like a kid whom had just had their favorite toy confiscated, "You do realize this is all your fault, right?!" "Excuse me?!" Julia whirled on her boyfriend, eyes blazing with the red fires of fury and indignation, "Oh no, you don't get to blame this all on me, mister! You're the one who thought it was a brilliant idea to go walking through the park in the middle of the night!" "Whoa, whoa, easy there, Julia!" Shane put up his hands, feeling he had said the wrong thing, "We're both just...tired, ok? How about we sit down for five minutes and then we-" Suddenly, the rustling of bushes could be heard around them, "What the..." From them emerged half a dozen men dressed from head to toe in attire that made them blend into the dark scenery so well they were like shadows. "Ah geez...they found us!" "No duh! What was your first clue, Sherlock?!" She and her lover stood back to back as the hoodlums approached, "Shane, I just want you to know before we die...I was the one who ate the last slice of pizza in the fridge the other night." "That's alright, Julia.." Suddenly, it sunk in what she had said, "Wait, you what?!!" However, before the hoodlums could get any closer, that's when IT happened. The plants around them, and even the tree branches, suddenly came to life, lashing out at them, grabbing and hauling them down to the dirt, causing each of the hoodlums to scream and cry out in shock and horror as they hacked away at their attackers with knives and shot them up with guns. However, for everyone they killed, two more took its place. One thug found himself yanked off his feet by a tree branch and slammed against another of his friends before both found themselves being squeezed together in a bundle of roots and stems. Another whipped out his gun and started shooting at a rapidly approaching pile of moss and vines, but his shots did little to deter the creature from its path as it launched itself through the air, grabbed him and dragged him off into the woods as he screamed bloody murder. The fourth and fifth went after their buddy only to have the ground explode open as a set of giant roots erupted from within to grab and restrain them. The last hoodlum, deciding that any pay to be made wasn't worth losing his life over, turned tail and ran off into the darkness...only for a loud scream to echo through the woods a few seconds later. The incredible thing though is that through this whole nightmarish scene...the pair of lovers were completely unharmed. In fact, it was as if the sentient plants were actively avoiding or even protecting them from their attackers. Despite this, fear still gripped their hearts as they backed away together, until they found their backs against...something. They hesitantly turned their heads and looked up...only to get the shock of their lives. The figure stood silhouetted in darkness and seemed to be wearing some sort of flowing coat over its lean, muscular frame. Its ruby red eyes staring right through them. "P-Please don't hurt us, mister...please, please..." They begged the creature before them. It said nothing...only raised a hand to point behind them, like it were giving a silent signal. The two looked ahead...and saw a new trail that had not been there before. When they looked back...the figure was already gone. Deciding not to stick around, they followed the new trail and before long, were back in the safety of civilization... _________________________________________________ Needless to say, it wasn't long before the pair's story spread like wildfire, and only helped to fuel the growing mystery that had cropped up almost overnight. Videos, pictures, and so on all helped to only create more questions. Who was the mysterious figure hiding out in local parks and in forests all around Freedom City? Where did they come from? What did they want? Just what was the truth behind the shocking behavior of the local wildlife? There was no doubting that quite a few people were kept on edge....It hadn't killed anyone, sure...but was this entity a force for good, truly? Only time would tell...

The Liberty Dome was situated between Midtown and the Theater District. A large events complex where the city’s major sports teams play. The 80,000-seat stadium also plays host to other sporting events as well as major concerts and shows during the year. It modern and modular and able host something like the high end charity concert (a couple grand for the privilege), as well as have facilities for the after party. It also had a dumb name. Well Amir felt that was the case, it felt so dated, but then he supposed that was better than auctioning off the naming rights every five to ten years. At least the Europeans had that right with their naming conventions for such buildings, sports economics notwithstanding. As per usual he had arrived in high fashion, in his latest acquisition a 1937 Bugatti Type 57SC Atalante, sky blue with white trim. It cost him quite a bit, and he wondered, precisely, how much was the car for himself or the image he had cultivated carefully. He still liked it, however. What he didn't like was this concert, he was here to support the charity, something... he couldn't remember which one as he did so many. He couldn't get away with spending money on one of these things and then disappearing. He'd eat it in the press, and the rumor mill. It didn't help that Agnus was performing. So... here he was, trying to not interact with Agnus, while doing his best to be personable. Fortunately her hair made her easy to track, and adjust his path and everything accordingly, managing to come across extra 'not entirely present' tonight, while simultaneously wishing he could get three sheets to the wind.

GM Saturday, February 18th, 2017 Backstage, The Schuster Auditorium, Hanover 9:06 PM Today was the night of One Last Shot. As UWL’s traditional February PPV, it was the place where two men walked in, and one walked out. It was where the big storylines of the winter season ended, and the first seeds for Spring and Summer were sown. It was full of brutal matches, and it was full of heated confrontations. And, it soon would be the place of the debut that would influence the upcoming seasons. Backstage, things were rather quiet. The second most important match of the night had just ended, and now most people had gone to grab something from catering. As Glacier, now once more holding UWL’s Freedom Championship, returned to backstage, he immediately went to the group standing next to the technicians. Hedley “The Orangutan” DeShaek. Kwame “Hammer” Harris. Jesse “The Spur” Cassidy. Sharon “Vixen” Nelson. Zayn Lee. Save DeShaek, they all wore matching outfits. The moment they had been training for ever since joining the UWL was only one match away. Soon, they would be ready. He was just going through the program once more, to make sure everything was right. While the three would sneak in with the technicians setting up the final match and hide in the crowd (they had all gotten extra large hoodies), Kwame would stay backstage. And once the main event was over, it was time. He would stand there, make his entrance, and reveal himself, and his group-members, to the world. “Okay, that’s all, we’ve trained this. Now, get ready to go out there with the techies. And, guys, good luck. Let’s have a debut for the history books. “ Glacier had stayed in the background, but now walked up to them, smiling. “Let’s show them what you’re made of.”

Saturday, February 5th Riverside Savings & Loan, Freedom City It was a sleepy day in Freedom City, the shining face of the Riverside Savings & Loan reflecting the sun off the surface of the river. Officer Morel pulled into the bank parking lot, noting that there wasn't much activity in the bank this Saturday morning. Usually plenty of folks were lined up early in the day to take care of their banking on the weekend. While Morel saw a few cars in the lot -- including a pair of cherry roadsters that looked to be from the 20s or 30s -- he didn't see anyone moving around inside the lobby. That prickled his senses and probably saved his life. The officer turned to reach for his car's radio, saw a glint of metal, and dove behind the engine block. Gunfire roared across the parking lot, rounds glancing off the pavement and exploding against metal. A figure stepped up to the broken bank window and Morel paused the gape at it. The man was dressed in an impeccable pin-stripe suit, wide-brimmed hat, and was balancing an honest-to-God Tommy gun on his hip. What shocked the police officer the most, though, was the face of steel and iron that looked out from under the hat. Another burst of automatic gunfire made Morel hug the ground. "That's right, copper," the metal-faced robber shouted. "Keep yer head down and keep the other flatfoots out of, and no one in here has to get whacked!"

April 1, 2017 It wasn't that Winifred Wei wasn't allowed into the city by herself, per se, rather everyone involved agreed that given her condition it would have been monumentally unwise. Still, prudence had never ranked high among her gifts and the restriction chafed. Browsing the breathtaking wealth of information available via the Academy's computer lab kept her reasonably occupied but while picking through the bibliography of references on a poorly maintained page the displaced Victorian was surprised to come across the title of a long out-of-print book written by one Heinrich Schreiber. What Winifred knew which the site's amateur scholar could not have was the Schreiber was the pen name of one Nika Azadeh Sharifi, one of London's famous 'rogue scientists' - famous, at least, in her own day. Old Madar Nika had been wizened by the time Winifred had met her, only half coherent, though that had still placed her among the more reliable in that community of peers. She'd never heard of the older woman having had any of her work published in earnest, only the occasional pamphlet but as she began researching in earnest she learned that 'Properties of Humours and Tinctures Thereof' had been complied well after its author had passed away, complied from recovered notebooks as an oddity more than serious research. She had known, of course, that in the century and a half she'd spent transmuted into a statue anyone she had ever known had surely passed away but it was still a sobering thought. Further digging and several phone calls later the young alchemist had learned that against all odds a shop in Freedom City's West End had a copy of the book on its shelves. The sensible thing to do would have been to explain the situation to one of her friends and plan a day out; the book was unlikely to disappear within the week, after all. Instead she called upon skills learned from watching the cagier of her circle to slip away in the early hours of the weekend, intent on holding Madar Nika's work in her own hands without delay.

Winifred was still relatively new to being a friend, having been something of a consummate loner growing up in her native time period but she liked to think that she managed to be a reasonably good one, uncontrolled bouts of mass destruction aside. Certainly she still managed to be better socialized than the majority of her circle of peers, enough so that she'd been quick to scoop up her bag and borrowed music player and make her excuses when her roommate's boyfriend had knocked on their door. She'd almost let curiosity get the better of her once and asked Robin how exactly that worked before deciding that neither upsetting her friend or sitting through a detailed explanation were outcomes she particularly wanted. The Victorian was much happier to simply give the couple their privacy. That did leave her somewhat at loose ends, however. Normally she would have put in some time in the chemistry lab but the most interesting equipment there was in the process of being repaired or replaced and as those weren't entirely unrelated facts she had been strongly encouraged to find other ways to spend her time until further notice. The weather had turned brisk enough to discourage a trip outdoors without a destination in mind and the common room wasn't an appealing option, not at a time of day where she knew it would be crowded; the altercation with Madison and her squad hadn't done Winifred's reputation around campus any great favours. The miniature in-ear speakers Matthew had lent her made avoiding conversation while traversing the halls considerably easier but she'd found they did distressingly little to discourage interruption while sitting in one place. Sighing quietly to herself she placed them in her ears and gingerly pressed the triangular button on the player. Perhaps Raina and Cathy would allow her to hole up in a corner of their room for a while. It wouldn't be much warmer than the quad but the Scot was always eager enough to lend a wool jumper to any visitors.

Silberman's Books. Monday, November 28th, 2016. 10:00 am. If you worked in retail, the holiday season was always stressful; it had a way of simultaneously bringing out the best and worst in people, and it seemed to go on forever. Since she'd reopened the store in 2014, owner Lynn Epstein had seen business steadily increase each year; their numbers were never going to be amazing, especially given her insistence on paying her employees a decent wage, but the fact that they weren't always operating at a loss made her happy. Of course, considering the large nest egg she'd brought back from Otherworld, she could afford to operate at a modest loss for years if necessary, and she wouldn't even mind; reopening Silberman's was never about making money. But if she didn't want her employees to rebel and hoist her from the yardarm, she desperately needed to hire some holiday help, and hopefully keep a few of them on permanently. Which wasn't always easy when you ran a store that had a whispered reputation for weird goings on... Since she'd put the ad up over the weekend, Lynn had already gotten several resumes via email, which she was currently reading over in her office; she had her 'power team' this morning, Lance on bar and Gretchen at the register. It was early yet, so it was mostly the coffee and newspaper crowd of old Jewish men from the neighnorhood, as well as one or two 'hipster beards' sipping their espresso as they checked their email on their Powerbooks. Need any help out there? No. We're good for now.

GM Friday, November 4th, 2016 Freedom City 2:24 PM Some time ago, Leviathan, the sea-monster prowling Freedom’s streets, had met Bonfire, a blogger and fellow Superhero. Bonfire was fairly well known online, even though he had not started much later than Leviathan, which came as a surprise when Tristan Delacroix ended up checking the internet on information on the smoke-controller he had met. It was an interesting sight, seeing just how much all of Bonfire’s internet appearances influenced his popularity. An effect of which, perhaps, Leviathan could profit from as well? Perhaps not as directly. Selfies and long posts describing his most recent missions probably weren’t Leviathan’s style, after all. Either way, talking to the man himself probably was a good way to start. Fortunately, reaching Bonfire was an easy task. In between fan-mail, a business address and a variety of other functions, actually sending him a message was easy.

Kwame picked up his phone and stared at the screen for a short while, trying to recall all that he was taught. Okay, let's see if I can do this. first, log into the site. Kwame's fingers touched a number of buttons, bringing up the browser followed by the login page of HeroHouse.com. What was my id and password again? Oh that's right! I remember. He entered the require information and was rewarded with the main bulletin board of topics and forums. Okay. That's the easy step. Now for the hard one. Choose new topic. Set the topic to public. Now all I have to do is type in the message. She said I needed to keep things 140 characters, right? Kwame stared at the screen for a while, wondering why he couldn't type any more. Oh, I'm over the limit. Got to change it. First, delete. Then try again. Kwame smiled once he saw that the words fit. Good start. Now let's see if I can get the information to them. Kwame looked at the last message and smiled. This should do it. I hope a lot of people come out at least to mingle.

GM Huge problems can start from the tiniest of errors, like ripples spreading across a pond. When Dr. Marco Hoffman forgot to put his thick gloves on before helping transfer his patient to her gurney for transport, he thought little of it. He merely snatched his burned hand back from Julia Cole's arm, swore under his breath, and reached for his protective gear before finishing the job. The custom-made handcuffs clicked securely in place. She never appeared to stir from her drug-induced sedation; her guards experienced no trouble when they wheeled Cole back to her cell, specially designed for her unique needs. And by the time Dr. Hoffman noticed that his keys were missing from his pocket, it was far, far too late. About an hour later, Dr. Oliver Graves--a particularly appropriate name, given the number of innocent people he put into the ground with his highly unethical work for an organization he barely understood--reviewed the security footage under thermal and slow-motion viewpoints. He already knew what happened; the damage to the facility spoke for itself, as did four missing patients and over two dozen dead or maimed guards. He now wanted to know why. The Coles were gone--project names Absolute Zero and Heat Sink. Holly Page--project name Copy Error--the mercenary for some international cartel or another, who paid for her augmentation through the DNAscent process and were told that their hired gun died on the operating table, was gone. Owen Walsh--project name Temporal Displacement--was gone, but at least he wouldn't be missed; the man was insufferable even before DNAscent unhinged him, and Dr. Graves privately hoped that whichever field agents retrieved him did so with a body bag. All failures, technically, but that hardly meant they had no value. Jonathan Grant and Peter Hanks--only the latter of whom Dr. Graves actually knew--continued to experiment with new techniques for DNAscent; now that they could create "simple" powers with relative reliability, they branched out in hopes of securing more esoteric talents. Why rely on blind luck? Most patients at this particular facility just died, but these four survived with unforeseen side effects, handicaps, insanity, or some combination of the three. Dr. Graves was under orders to study them thoroughly before they were inevitably terminated. Omelets and eggs, after all. He clicked through the video records until he found the problem. There, using the slowest mode available, was a single frame of Heat Sink reaching one blurry hand into Dr. Hoffman's coat pocket. Dr. Graves narrowed his eyes and sighed. He made a mental note to adjust her sedatives, assuming she could be recaptured alive. "Detain Hoffman for the next round of experiments," he told his bodyguards. "And notify Dr. Hanks. We have a problem." * * * The four story structure of glass and gleaming steel seemed to appear almost overnight, right on the bank of the North Bay district; property values here were horrendously expensive, but that wasn't a problem. Although the owner of this facility wasn't blessed with patience, he did have more wealth than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and so, multiple construction crews worked around the clock with whatever equipment they requested. Inspections and permits proved surprisingly cooperative when the city officials who issued them suddenly found their departments' budgets much healthier than the day before. Besides, who wanted to stand in the way of a good cause? Some of those bureaucrats attended today's grand opening. Other guests included local scientists, out-of-town experts, and of course, reporters to handle the publicity. Covers only worked when enough people knew about them. At least it will be a proper charity, Dr. Delacroix thought in his office on the top floor. He made his way through the adjoining lab, past equipment that was still being relocated and set up. Most of the building was devoted to research space...and with so much gear, no one would be shocked when some of it went mysteriously missing during transit, especially when he replaced it with a wave of his checkbook. He took the stairs down to the lobby, where catering crews buzzed about. Tables with finger foods sat parallel to the rows of chairs, which faced a temporary platform where he and certain guest speakers would discuss the charity's goals. Above the platform was a long banner: Oceanographic Charity for Ecological Assistance and Nurturing. OCEAN, or on the formal paperwork, OCEAN-Freedom; Tristan couldn't resist linking his organization to the city that birthed his love of heroes and allowed him to, more or less, be one. The young doctor inhaled and smiled as he looked at the banner. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, he could delegate the day-to-day functions to his staff, narrow his personal contribution to pure research--he doubted that anyone would complain, given his skill in this area--and secretly spend most of his time more immersed in the Great Bay than anyone expected. He turned when he heard the front doors open, bringing in footsteps and light chatter. The earliest guests were arriving, and so, Tristan went to shake some hands.

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.

It was only turning from the chill of winter to the first blush of spring but Leilani was quick to shed any sort of nod to the inclement weather and return to sundresses and sandals. Extra layers really only meant more clothing to go through should some emergency crop up... and it seemed like there was an emergency more often than not. She was hopeful, however, that tonight might prove the exception to the rule. Leilani paused to gather her keys and sandals in hand and confirm with others that called the DuTemps building home that she was out for the evening before she left. One advantage of calling the odd castle on top of a high rise home meant that it was easy to launch herself out a window without anyone blanching at the activity. Igniting the air below her feet with a thought, Leilani couldn't help but smile as she rode the heatwave down towards the sidewalk in lazily criss crossing streams that never failed to remind her of lazy waves and sunny afternoons in Hilo.

GM October 1st, Saturday, 2016 Miles offshore from Emerald City, Oregon, the PanStar Pacific Proliferation Platform(P3 Station) "We're very excited to have you both here, Dr. Delacroix, Dr. Anderson." Though easily a few heads shorter than either of the two men, Olivia Oum, Director of PanStar's Ocean Developments division, seemed a positive giant among the ever-present crush of workers, technicians, company people and sundry humanity scurrying around the shiny-new fish farm and cloning facility. All of them quickly made way for the quartet of Dir. Oum in her crisp blue suit, her PA whose eyes never left her phone (which did nothing to impede the rest of her work) and the two visiting scientists. There was certainly plenty of space on the Platform, an enormous silver-white dome intersecting two massive rings cradling an advanced force-field system that let water and nutrients in and kept a great many other things out. Every ceiling and floor bore PanStar's gold star, the symbols of its associates(Emerald City's MarsTech, Ming Xi Visions and Saito Solutions) while the rain-streaked windows looked out at a recently-passed storm front and a heaving deep-grey sea. Leading the way to an elevator, Oum went on blithely "PanStar has worked hard to make the world a better place, and with this, a way replenish our dying ocean's ecosystem, we hope to avert a disaster even this world's heroes have been powerless against." With a swipe of her thumb against a colored bar the door rematerialized behind them. The PA's head tilted slightly upward "Zhou in manfac needs another bulk order Ma'am, 203E-5s, tungsten." "By all means, Panita, put it through." Oum smiled benevolently to the visitors as the elevator descended swiftly, the Pacific Ocean surrounding them and the submerged levels of the Platform as a cloud of darkness and shifting shadows deepened by the facility's lights.. "We understand UNESCO's need to ensure our full compliance with the law and the highest ethical standards, given the stakes at play. Rest assured, Dr. Anderson, we have nothing to hide and every member of our staff will comply with your review. Or I shall know the reason why." The dazzling smile the compact woman shone at the Englishman did nothing to undermine the undertone of ferocity. Turning to the American, the Director added "Dr. Delacroix, we appreciate the willingness of the Institute to gives its second opinion. Your work in bioscience and the in-depth understanding of business your brothers have displayed fills us with confidence that this will lead to a swift and mutually-satisfactory conclusion!" Relaxing against the transparent metal windows, Oum asked brightly "Do you have any questions?"

Lilly sat just inside the Administrative Building of the Claremont Academy, anxiety slowly building up as time stretched on with the only distraction being the wi-fi on her phone. The young plant controller had been offered to take part of a mentorship program that the school had been developing for some time. The plan was to pair a student up with another superhero so they could better grasp their powers from someone with more experience. More similar the abilities, the better. It was a coincidence that Freedom City was frequented by Fleur de Joie, a legendary plant controller who had earned a place on the Freedom League and was adored by millions in the country. One could see why Lillian King would be more than a bit nervous. She was not sure if she was suppose to do their first meeting in costume or now. The uncertainty was enough to convince her to stay casual for today. Black jeans, black shirt, leather jacket to keep the cold out and a pair of worn boots just in case she had to do any running. And so, she waited for her arrival.

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?"

September 16, 2016 With the summer months come and gone sundown was coming earlier to Freedom City with each passing day. Even in the dim dusk the lamps flanking the monorail track cast stark shadows on the cement ravine below, the pillars that held the track aloft creating even bars of light and darkness. Marring that pattern came a pair of headlights, accompanied by screeching tires and unmistakable bursts of gunfire. The rust red sedan crashed through the steel link fence, hanging in the air briefly before slamming down onto the sloped cement with a great crash and screech of protesting metal. Almost lost in that cacophony was the whisper quiet purr of the inky black motorcycle in pursuit. Clad similarly in black its rider practically melted into the bike's silhouette in the dim light, a crimson wing pattern up its sides the only detail separating it from a black brushstroke across the scene. It easily followed through the path opened in the fence and sped after the sedan, wearing back and forth to avoid the increasingly panicked fire from the car's occupants.

Rodnak 252 Edge of the Lor Republic GM Post Even when the Republic was at it’s height Rodnak was considered a frontier world. Far from the machinations of Lor-Van this sleepy little agricultural planet was beneath most people’s knowledge. The Communion and even common raiders passed it by considering it too small for there notice. Even with the republic still recovering from the Incursion and the safe borders creeping parsec’s from this little planet no one gave it any notice. It was the perfect place if you wanted to hide away from everyone, just you and you secrets as the populous wasn’t the type to question you pass. Arak City was as close you call a capital and even it was no more than a few building clustered together with an area cleared and treated for shuttles to land and refuel. Though no one had used the pad in almost a year now, though that was something that was about to change...

Silberman's Books, at the corner of Pratt and Frederick. Friday, March 17th, 2017. 11:00 am. Lynn Epstein didn't really get St. Patrick's Day; her mom was Jewish, and her father, who despite his last name was primarily raised Catholic, was essentially Jewish-Italian. She'd gone to Jewish schools throughout her childhood, so it was never part of her family life. Atlantic City had a parade down the Boardwalk, but her family always avoided it due to the presence of 'drunken hooligans' as her mom put it. But sadly when you work in retail, there are certain expectations from the public around major or even minor holidays, so while Silberman's Books didn't go all out, a few changes were made to the store for the week. A table of books on Irish history and Celtic mythology was set up near the entrance; it wasn't too crass, and the books selection was actually pretty varied. The changeling had conjured some tasteful decorations around the store, typically modeled on early 20th century designs as Lynn felt they were less intrusive. And lastly she'd made some special green Silberman's aprons, dark green with the store's name in a white Celtic font; even Gretchen who was usually annoyed by such things admitted they looked pretty good. Otherwise the store looked much the same as usual: bookshelves full of used books, posters of famous stage magicians on the walls, the magazine rack and newspapers up front, tables and chairs for reading and the consumption of food and drink, and the combined front counter/coffee bar. The store was fairly empty, as much of Freedom was engaged in various St. Pat's activities, so it was only the die hard coffee drinkers out and about. Gretchen was working the bar and counter this morning, although right now she was sitting perched on her high stool near the register, reading Dostoevsky's The Idiot in the original Russian thanks to her magic glasses. She was also playing The Pogues over the store's sound system, her one contribution to the day's celebrations. However, the store's owner did have someone coming in for an interview this morning; hopefully they'd be a good fit. Currently she was in her office checking email.

GM March 10th, 2017 6:45 PM The High Steaks The restaurant and casino of the High Steaks was a buzz of activity. Out front and inside the Supreme Ultimate Competition had set up shop. They had corralled reporters and rolled out a red carpet for anyone who would be attending the winner's party. Security guards and drones buzzed about, but it was quite easy for anyone who had one of the golden invitations to be allowed in. A few clearly superhuman bouncers also stood at the front, ready to toss anyone who did not deserve their place among the winners. Too be fair though, it wasn't just fighters who were in the restaurant. Plenty of people had clearly paid enough to rub elbows with the winners, perhaps in hopes of securing product endorsements when the competition was over. The crew and managers of a few competitors seemed to be present as well. Everyone was mingling and watching the various displays that had been brought in for the occasion and were hanging from drones, whoever was running this competition certainly liked their drones.

GM December 15th, 2016. 1.42PM A.S.T.R.O. Labs showroom, behind the labs proper, where they used to show off new jets and guns. "...Which brings us to the pride of our tour, the Guardian of Infinity!" Dr. Spencer gestured grandly to the towering apparatus, a of aluminium tubing on either side of a sideways, elongated oval as wide across as a city street and tall as a house. Hydrogen fuel cells hummed away, connected to the titanium oval by thick bundles of cables that vanished into the complex of struts and and bars around it. Running a good yard from it was a large black/yellow striped square. With "please do not approach the distortion of space-time" signs at each front-facing corner. The floodlights they reflected shone down on both the meticulously-curated and presented showcase floor and relics of the Lab's glorious past. Up above their heads hung replicas of various weapons and vehicles that had been the end of countless Germans. Around the guests was the future. Spacial-temporal distortions and all. Said distortion was a remarkably mundane affair. A city very like the Freedom City outside, with people looking very like those gathered before it. The first sign of difference was the omnipresence of Arabic letters. The second was the giant mechanical eagle that crashed into the ground, causing havoc as citizens rushed to shelter. As it rose up, it was struck down again by the now-visible superhumans pursuing it. Their host grinned and produced a spiral-shaped remote from her suit-jacket. "Yes, citizens! A world like our own, but not! With this device, constructed by my colleague Dr. Brandtford and myself, we can see any-" A world where domes were the major architectural style. "-neighboring-" Crosses filled the skyline, with images of saints on every window. "-divergence-" At the intersection, drivers floored it on the red light. "-we choose!" Spencer beamed at the crowd, tucking an errant lock of thick brown hair behind her ear "And best of all, we have made contact with a few alternate Labs, who had made devices nigh-identical to this one! Who knows what the future holds?" She scanned the gaggle of visitors, the vast majority of whom were students at Freedom City University "Any questions?" Dozens of twentysomethings glanced at each other. Spencer's grin was a bit too far that side of manic.

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.”

January 20, 2017 Port Regal "It's beautiful," said Mark, peering at the image Nina had found. "I love the lacework on the veil - and you've always looked good in white." Perhaps white wasn't the traditional color under the circumstances - but when he'd mentioned that the other day Nina had not been terribly happy with him. "I'll take you over as soon as we're done talking to everyone." Sitting next to his fiancee on their living room couch, he tried to keep his stomach from lurching with excitement as he remembered the purpose of the planned conversation. He'd kept Nina's secret because he loved her, but it had made January one of the hardest months of his life. "It's fine enough," agreed Nina, tabbing over to the page for her personal notebook.. Looking at the dresses had been Mark's idea - having found a satisfactory one, she'd already moved to the next step. "After I wear it, I can donate it to the Women's Center - Malikah's getting married this summer and she can alter it as she sees fit." The dress would do for their civic service in Freedom City in a month. For the wedding to come in Socotra's Great Mosque, when she would be her father's...overthrower, she would need something much more elaborate than this. Mark gave no sign that he followed Nina's thoughts, instead kissing her on the cheek and rising to his feet. "Okay, it's 10:30...I should start the frittata so it'll be ready when they get here." Only an hour and a half left! Mark and Nina lived in a gated seaside development - just the place for two Freedom City residents who had wanted a house and Mark headed into the kitchen. "Everything will be okay," he said aloud, stepping around the bookcase and firing up the oven. "We'll have them over, we'll feed them, we'll tell them we're getting married in February because we're going to have a baby. It'll be a surprise - but everything will be great."

Liberty Park Sunday, December 11, 2016 9:23 PM Somedays, Cannonade wondered what it had to be like to work in Animal Control in this town. It had been one of the weirdest "track downs" he'd ever had. Sometimes, on patrol, he'd run into a cop who wanted to flag him down over something weird, usually related to the Crusaders. Other times, Commander Grayston of AEGIS might track him down, wanting to send him off to God knows where to handle some new interesting wrinkle in geopolitics. This time, however, he'd touched down in the Fens to get some coffee at the Dunkin Donuts, only to be flagged down by a woman with blue hair and the uniform of an Animal Control officer. "It was a jogger," she'd said. "She'd been running through the park, said she was passing by Poet's Grove when they appeared. Dogs. Three of them, black as night. One of them did a real number on her arm, but she was carrying pepper spray and managed to drive them off." "And if you're talking to me, I'm guessing they can't actually be dogs." "Given this town, they could be, but... we checked where she was attacked. No sign of spoor, paw prints, droppings, anything. And her description... it may have been dark and she may have been scared, but they didn't resemble any dog we know. Maybe Mastiffs, at an outside stretch, but... Mastiffs aren't usually that dark in coloration. And then there was the other thing..." "What other thing?" "She said they came running out from behind a hedge. But that part of Poet's Grove is completely clear cut." And so, Cannonade ventured off into a dark stretch of an already dark park, feeling the shadows loom. The air felt crisp and cool, and he could smell pine on the air. No dog, though, wet or otherwise. But he had a feeling that, given this town, that wasn't going to hold for long.