Search the Community

GM Wednesday, July 13th, 2016 The Theatre District, Freedom City Afternoon Mona and Mickey Simms had arrived in Freedom City a few days ago. That meant, it had been time for a little tour around the city, learn about various places the locals went to. While Mona had probably visited most spots in the city a few times before, it still felt like a good idea to walk around the place together with Mickey, show him some stuff she’d seen the last times she’d been here. Today plan had been the Theatre District. Unless one was looking for theatre, or night clubs, one didn’t really go there. There were a few exceptions, like a really good and somewhat well known Chinese restaurant, or a museum on the history of theatre, but all in all, it wasn’t the most populated area. Still, it was one of the few places the two siblings hadn’t been yet, and why leave out one? The two had been walking around for some time, enjoying various sights, when suddenly a group of roto-drones flew past them a few feet above at high velocity, turning a corner behind one of the many theatre buildings. And just as they turned, a cloud of smoke appeared from the direction the drones had been coming, flying at about the same height but slower. The cloud headed the same direction as the drones, when it suddenly started speaking. “ ----. Lost them.” The cloud continued moving the same direction, addressing the two teenagers. “Hey, you two. Any ideas where those drones headed? They’re pretty dangerous”

Ellie Espadas was tired, she was sore and she was pretty sure she was going to have to just burn the pants she was wearing rather than attempting to wash out the new stains. As the ambulance pulled into Trinity Hospital she reminded herself that she'd survived punishing superhuman brawls and weeks stranded on an alien world but in the moment it was difficult to believe anything had ever been as exhausting as her first week as an EMT-B. With her three years of pre-med behind her and medical school beginning in earnest in the fall, it had seemed like a good time to finally get her certification. After all her time volunteering and doing odd jobs at Trinity she'd gotten enough of a foot in the door to be hired quickly despite the competition and she had to admit that between her experiences with the Interceptors and her test scores she'd been feeling a little cocky. Patrolling the city's rooftops from behind a mask and with free reign to use her metamagi abilities was a far cry from grueling hours of hard, dirty work on the streets themselves. "Hey rook, you gonna make it? You look like @#$%," the EMT-I/85 driving the ambulance asked, glancing in the rearview mirror and letting out a shout, loud laugh. Hernandez looked more like a bouncer than a medical professional, with a shaved head and heavily muscled arms covered in sleeve tattoos straining the dark blue fabric of his uniform's sleeves but Ellie had seen his big hands administer an IV with the practiced dexterity of a concert pianist. His manners left a little more to be desired. "Still better'n you," the young woman snapped back with a little more bite than she'd really meant to, garnering another laugh from the driver as he parked. The third occupant of the ambulance, a serious woman with frizzy black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, opened the back doors and hopped out. Braugher was an EMT-P, a paramedic, and Ellie knew she was there at least in part to keep an eye on the newbie. "Go grab a coffee, Espadas, we'll clean up here." It was about a close to praise as the older woman had gotten so far and Ellie simply nodded gratefully before heading into the hospital.

Above Silberman's Books. Monday, August 1st, 2016. 11:36 am Lynn unlocked the door and pushed it wide open as she stepped into the living room/dining nook of the one bedroom apartment Tona recently vacated; the room was bright and airy, with hardwood floors, white painted walls and a working gas fireplace flanked by built-in bookshelves. Salvaged stained glass windows on the east wall added color and a charming rustic quality. "Okay, so this is the front room; that pillar sort of designates the dining area, but obviously you can use it however you want. There's no central heating or air, but the radiator heat is free and works great, and you've got ceiling fans and an AC unit in the bedroom." Gretchen followed in, pointing out the small flat-screen monitor on the wall near the door. "I've upgraded the security system. Multiple cameras, motion and heat sensors, extra sturdy locks."

GM Post October the 23rd, 1941 - Pacific Ocean, near the Ni'ihau, State of Hawai'i As the war that engulfed the majority of the planet raged on, a lone Sentoku type submarine sailed under the surface of the Pacific Ocean. It's destination, the Republic of Ecuador, still a ways away, was currently being pressured into signing a treaty with the Republic of Peru by the United States. If signed, the treaty would mean the complete unification of the American continent, in direct opposition to the Axis powers. The Sentoku type submarine, helmed by Vice Admiral Konoe Takahashi of the Empire of Japan, was tasked with sneaking under the radars of the USA navy, making a line to Ecuador, and harass the nation until it agreed to signing a treaty with Japan instead. Of course, a single vessel would be hardpressed to achieve any results of significance, which was why it was originally accompanied by a small fleet of Kaidai type submarines. The rest of the fleet, however, was completely lost when it came under attack; Umiquan vessels had been engaging the Japanese in the Pacific, reportedly, over territorial trespassing violations. VA Konoe looked weary, and the dread his sailors felt was palpable. They knew this would turn into a suicide mission, even if they somehow managed to reach their destination. Nevertheless, they had their orders, and they'd recieved no response regarding the destruction of their fleet. The old wolf could only laugh at his pitiable fate, the result of expansionist politics gone horribly, horribly wrong, and could barely sleep, waitting restlessly for the inevitable alert that they'd been intercepted. And become intercepted they did, as a single Umiquan vessel, shaped like a manta ray, came into the radar's view. But this one vessel didn't seem to be part of a pursuing party, as it was following its own course, making no attempt at communication with the Sentoku type, nor moving threateningly against it. If the submarine could recieve optical footage from the Umiquan vessel, it would have revealed the royal crest of the current Tyrant King, Lord Laosoon the IVth... Friday, May the 8th, 2015 - Hunter Museum of Natural History, North End, Freedom City 16:34 It would seem that the attractions this day were of particular importance. Envoys from Atlantis had arrived, lending their artifacts for display, in commemoration of the Sea King's joinning the Freedom League. The exhibition would last for one month, starting today, and for its duration, admitance to the museum would be completely free to the public. Among the exhibits, a replica of the first crown King Thallor, King Theseus' father, wore during his reign, several sculptured depictions of the Ancient Greek Gods, most prominent of whom was Poseidon, God of the seas and Patron God of Atlantis, and a black jewel the size of one's fist, adorned with the symbols and mystic runes of Atlantis, dating back to the 17th century. Quite a few Atlanteans had surfaced to Freedom City, for the chance to see their valued heritage being displayed side to side with that of their human cousins. Many Atlantean kids wow'd in wonderment at the display of the Tyrannosaurus Rex's skeleton, a sight that even most of the adult Atlanteans couldn't help but admire, both for its sheer scale and detail, as well as its evocative visage. This day would prove a poignant step in the continued improvement between the humans and the Atlanteans, and the royal family of Atlantis was sure to attend.

GM Saturday, October 8th , 2016 Aaron Cage Gymnasium, Claremont Academy, Bayview 6:38 AM It was an early Saturday morning, the sun had not yet ascended over the horizon, the ocean east of Freedom City. It was a quiet Saturday morning too, with most of Claremont Academy’s students still asleep, some only recently having returned from nightly trips to various places, with various goals. Other places around the city were much the same. People slumbered, only few were up on a Saturday morning, and of the ones that were, hardly anyone did it voluntarily. However, like always, there were exceptions. In this case, the exception was Jann Fa-Re, also known as Bird of Arms, who had a strict morning exercise routine. And things like “weekends” or “days off” were not part of that routine. His weekend routine was different, granted, as the gym was empty during mornings. And that meant he could train there without any interference, which was something he appreciated. Plus, waking up his roommate was not something he was fond of. Another such exception was Aníbal Miramontes, also known as El Huracán, a student of Claremont Academy too. He had just been wandering past the entrance to the gym, as he noticed something happening inside. Another student, who had started this year, and was mostly noticeable for the fact he had wings, was currently going through the obstacle course inside the gym, using a variety of acrobatics, but not his wings, to proceed onwards.

Friday January 22, 2016 Greenbank, Freedom City Nighttime It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an off-duty superhero in search of pizza will inevitably encounter something that renders the acquisition of pizza highly unlikely. Buffy Stein had just run out to grab a quick slice from the pizza joint around the corner, wanting a little fuel to get her through her late-night cramming session. She had even had her hand on the door when she overheard the police scanner in a nearby parked patrol car. Apparently something had triggered the silent alarm at a warehouse over in Greenbank. That wasn't exactly enough to make the cops peel out, sirens blaring, so why should she, innocent civilian, bestir herself? Surely no one would expect her to abandon her pizza, abort her studying, don her costume, and sprint clear across the city just because some raccoon accidentally tripped an alarm or something, right? This was what Echo was bitterly reflecting on as the crouched there on the edge of the rooftop in the freezing cold, staring gloomily at the shadowy bulk of the warehouse across the street. Sometimes, it just wasn't fun being a superhero. She was going to have to make some modifications to her costume, that was for sure. Heroes of the super variety weren't exactly renowned for their subtlety, but she couldn't help feeling conspicuous there in her blue-and-silver bodysuit. Those colors didn't exactly fade into the darkness as well as one might hope. Not to mention, she needed to install some thermal padding, or get some new long underwear or something. If didn't wrap this up quickly, all they would ever find of her would be a big Echo-shaped popsicle. And all because of a false alarm at some random warehouse. You didn't get a statue for that. Huh. She noticed something that made her perk up slightly. The warehouse was enclosed by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire, presumably to keep the contents from escaping. Thing was, she was pretty sure the gate was supposed to be closed. With a whumph of displaced air, she was gone from the rooftop, now standing beside the open gate. The chain that ordinarily held the gates shut was lying on the ground. Kneeling down to examine it, she saw that it had been cut. Maybe the night watchman forgot his keys. And remembered his bolt cutters. Looking up, she saw an white van parked inside the fence. She had ignored it before, but now she saw that the plates had been removed and the engine was running. And one of the nearby doors that led into the warehouse looked to have been forced open. Well, hey. This might not be a waste of time after all.

Janurary 3, 2016. Freedom City. Southside. In front of the Main Terminal of Jordan International Airport. 10:00 AM. Francisca Rivera was nervous. She wasn’t late. That she knew. Therefore, the person she was here for was. She was UN Security, it was her first time in charge, and she was assigned to a high value target. UN diplomat Kenzie Zhang was one of the most accomplished negotiators in the world. Her work (and that of her subordinates) had kept Indonesia from tearing itself apart a few years ago. Not to mention her continuing work keeping North Korea from doing anything…drastic. She was the go to person when violence threatened Southeast and East Asia. Rivera was a little star struck, but she was a professional. That was not why she was nervous. Due to budget cuts, the UN hadn’t given her a full security team. This was not why she was nervous, either. She’d made do with worse. It was the replacement for her unsupplied agents. His name was Edge, and he was an American superhero who also worked for the UN. His presence by itself didn’t make her nervous. It was what it meant. The higher ups didn’t deploy supers lightly, especially since there weren’t many working for the UN. Something was going to happen, and it was going to be bad for her and her team. She’d expressed this to Edge, but he seemed rather unconcerned. She sighed. No help for it. Her team, limited as it was, had secured the area as best they could. Edge had brought a partner, and she had lent on a hand on that front. There was nothing left to do but wait for Ms. Zhang to come out. Her current security team was even more shorthanded than Rivera’s, and had been on the clock almost 24/7 for the past three days. Rivera just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her name was Brigitte. Today she had curly blonde hair (a wig) and blue eyes (contacts). She’d been training for this ever since she could remember. She was the fifth graduate of Project Stardust, and justifiably proud of graduating earlier than the other four. This was her first assignment. The director was right. People looked at her differently. They didn’t see her as a threat. Nobody looked at her twice as she was scouting for a good spot to take the shot. But she’d found a good spot, and squeezed into it. The cameras didn’t see her approach. Her escape route was clear. The only thing left was to wait for her target, line up the scope as she’d been trained, and pull the trigger. But her target was late. It made Brigitte uneasy. Maybe something was wrong. Had one or both of the other two been captured? Should she run? Was it already too late to run? She looked around through her scope. No, everything was fine. Her target was just delayed. That happened to planes sometimes. She munched a few small cookies and waited.

June 29th, 2016 McNider Memorial Hospital, Freedom City, New Jersey Afternoon Miras flinched as bullets chewed away at the ceramic tiles at the corner she was facing, chips and shards of pottery slowed and deflected by her magic. The intermittent roar of gunfire echoed and rebounded through the underground parking garage, setting off several car alarms as the terrorist kept the superhero pinned down. After a solid minute of deadly shots the gunfire fell silent; Miras peaked out of cover and noted that the terrorist, a young woman in a bright red tee-shirt, Kevlar vest, and bandanna, was fumbling with her gun. The musical magus didn't know much about guns, but she knew that they eventually ran out of bullets and that this might be her only attempt to talk the other woman down. "This is your best chance to surrender," Miras called out. "You can't win anymore. We found the anesthesia you swapped out with nerve gas, every hospital in New England is checking their supplies. You're pinned down here, and Fast-Forward is upstairs taking care of the last of your super-suit back-up. You're not going to win here, give up and come quietly!" "Shut your bourgeois mouth!" the woman shouted back. "This hospital is a monument to capitalist greed, a place for sick people to be bilked of more money. If the doctors here really cared about people, they'd be out on the street! Saving lives! Not stuck in board meetings arguing for funding." The terrorist loaded another magazine in her weapon and aimed at the pillar that the superhero was hiding behind. "And you really believe that I shouldn't be here, then come out and stop me, pig!" Miras rolled her eyes at the notion and settled in as more gunfire streamed her way. Bullets were a finite resource; she just had to muster more patience.

GM Saturday, October 15th, 2016 Ashton Mall, West Freedom, Freedom City 3:23 PM It was a quiet day at Ashton Mall. A light rain, barely enough to be noticed made people stay inside, wheter at home, or at various public places. Ashton Mall was one of them. While there was quite a crowd, it was a peaceful one, families doing their weekly shopping, teenagers hanging out, people meeting for events in stores. A small crowd had formed in front of a set of TVs, showcasing a new Episodic TV series premiering later this month, some people were sitting inside a hobby store. A sale at a local independent clothes store had attracted some people too, looking for high quality clothes. All in all, it was business as usual. Amongst the shoppers was Chris Kenzie, currently on the mall’s uppermost floor, not far below the roof, made almost entirely of glass, only a few beams supporting it. Many people disliked the roof being set up like this, but on rainy days, it had a pleasant look, the water slowly running down the slight incline. And then, suddenly, Chris felt like this day was about to change. A noise was approaching, one suggesting that things were about to heat up. Distant at first, it became louder at a rapid pace. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH” And then, the screaming was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. A lot of glass breaking, as whoever had been screaming hit the middle of the mall’s roof, causing most of it to break and rain glass shards (and water) down, across the mall.

GM February 12th, Friday, 2016 Summit Transnational building, meeting room 5, floor 10, Wading Way, Freedom City As far as company reps went, the people sent by ailing power and research firm Redshift Energy of Washington weren't much to inspire confidence. Mostly either noticeably young new blood still uncomfortable in their stiff shirts, or old company men who had the tired, rumpled look of somebody going through the motions until retirement, they filled the meeting room with a nervous atmosphere. Meanwhile, quite at his ease, a African-American man in his late twenties had already taken his seat and was quickly reading over a briefcase full of papers crammed with atomic formulae. One of his associates had to quickly nudge him in the shoulder to alert him the entrance of their host at Summit Transnational, Amir ibn Jafar ibn Abd al-Aziz al-Misri. With a hurried, apologetic and distracted smile, the man stood up and joined the other reps. An older man stepped up, offering his pale, soft hand to the imposing philanthropist. "Er, Michael Monday, Mr. Misri, of Redshift Energy. Glad you could meet us, it's a wonderful opportunity for both of our companies." All the Redshift people tried to look like they agreed, the young man with the briefcase looking entirely, naturally confident in contrast. Outside, the city was frosted with snow and clinging ice, but in the conference room the pale sunlight mingled with the warm florescents to cast a strangely tranquil TV-like colour over the walls and long table. Very thoughtfully, someone had put coffee and pastries around, so everyone could be even more jittery than they already were.

August 19, 2016. Freedom City. The Waterfront. The Abandoned Warehouse. Yes, That One. 11:00 PM. It had taken a great deal of research and effort to get to this point. Over a month of work, which was quite a bit for the supergenius heroine known as Terrifica. Still, now she knew exactly what needed to be done. She had posted a need for superheroic assistance on Capeslist, and two had bitten, filling the Thief and Grifter archetypes (phrased in a way that would decidedly not set off red flags across law enforcement and superheroic systems, of course). That wasn’t all they could do, naturally, but it was what she was looking for. Time had run out and she could wait no longer for responses to the Hitter and Hacker requests. However, she had sent a message to Miracle Girl, who would suffice for the former and Terrifica herself would quite suffice for the latter. Now it was a simply matter of time until everyone arrived. Terrifica had arranged a table and five chairs for the occasion, just in case a Hacker decided to show up at the last minute. The last batch of criminals to use this place were currently in jail. And of course, Terrifica herself waited in the shadows. She was no fool. She would only reveal herself when everyone had arrived. Any second now, someone should be arriving.

GM March 14th, 2016, 7:48 A.M. As dawn just started to creep through Freedom City, fresh off daylight saving, a series of impatient knocks hammered against Samuel Steiner's apartment door. All was not right in his corner of the world (though it rarely was), whether or not the magician knew it. Cackling madness linking arms with easy power. Strong souls brought low by a king with a strange crown. Scraping nails against transparent walls--and worse prisons with no locks or doors, all the stronger for it. Mice wearing rigid smiles as they marched into the cat's jaws. And now, to be thrust into the center of it all, a former convict destined--doomed?--to uphold the law. The sweet can be sour, and the sour salvation Strongest steel will fail, but the weakest chains may set you free.

Winifred wasn't one to spend time in the common areas of Claremont Academy's dormitories unless she was on her way from place to place. It might have had something to do with the way common room emptied conspicuously quickly any time she sat down to read in one of the armchairs there or the way normal conversations turned into urgent whispers when she walked by in the hallways. For her part the alchemist liked to think that she was simply good at making efficient use of her time. With that in mind her strides where swift as she made her way through the boys' dormitory with a worn but carefully patched saddlebag full of chemistry equipment. She kept her back straight and chin high but her eyes didn't waver from looking straight ahead no matter what looks she could feel aimed at the back of her head. Reaching her destination she rapped quickly on the door, calling, "Smith."

June 27th, 2016 Freedom City, New Jersey Late Afternoon The 129 sat at the station, a humming silver bullet of sophistication and technology, energy gathering in its mighty electric engines as the passengers and luggage was loaded. In a car new the end of the train, Tona Baudin walked down one corridor, a bulky bag over her shoulder. For one she was glad that the world was built to a larger scale than she was. Otherwise, she would been walking down the hallway sideways, like so many other passengers who insisted on bringing bags with them, and that just looked uncomfortable. She trailed her hand along the wall, checking each metal plate in turn and keeping an eye out for one in particular. Finally she found it, nearly at the end of the car; she used a key and let herself in, once again finding that her small size made maneuvering in the tiny room easy. The archer stowed her bag quickly and sat next to the bright, wide window. She smiled at the woman across from her, reaching over and taking Sam’s hand in her own. “Thank you,” she said. “For all of…” She trailed off, twirling her free hand in the air to indicate the entire locomotive. Tona had some issues traveling by plane, and neither of them wanted to drive all the way to Miami, and a ship would take even longer; which left only a few options. She was just grateful her girlfriend could afford it all, and that Sam had agreed to take the slow route. “I’m happy you’re not going out on your own, this time.”

Lynn Epstein's Apartment. Saturday, June 18th, 2016. 2pm. It was a very mild and pleasant late spring day; there was no need to run the AC, so instead Lynn and Gretchen had just opened all the windows and turned on all the ceiling fans, so that cool breezes and succulent cooking smells wafted through every room. The weekend before, Gretch had offically moved in, and at her insistence the apartment now possessed real live, actual furniture; some of them were ancient hand-me-down pieces that once bellonged to her late grandmother back in Maine, all dark, massive and brooding. Others were recent additions from the Ikea out in Ashton, which they had bought together, because that's what couples do. It took a while to get used to, but Lynn was starting to enjoy the smell of history on the old stuff pleasantly mixing with the new stuff that smelled of dorm rooms and promise. What was a bit harder to get used to were Gretchen's ferrets, Otto and Bosco; they tore around the apatment like they were rats on crack, their long, loping bodies wriggling into every corner imaginable, terrifying Lynn's three cats DB, Mafia and Plaque Attack, who currently spent most of their time hiding out in the bedroom. The ferret cage stood in one corner of the living room, a symbol of the end of the Era of Feline Domination. Out on the rear deck was the Weber grill that Gretchen had also insisted on, which was having its trial run this weekend; it hadn't been fired up just yet, because Lynn wanted everyone to have a little time to have a drink and kibbitz. As for the couple themselves, each was representing their unique stylistic tastes. Lynn wore sandals, a short denim skirt and a creamy, sleeveless cotton blouse; her hair was up and out of the way, indicating that she was both hard at work and comfortable enough with the guests to reveal her pointed ears. Meanwhile, Gretchen wore boots, loose cut jeans and a black vintage Lou Reed t-shirt; surprisingly, her hair was also up, showing a rare glimpse of her graceful neck. The two women worked together smoothly like a well-oiled machine, a machine that frequently stopped to smile or affectionatly touch a shoulder. Their guests would be here soon.

GM Friday, July 15th , 2016 One of many Starbase Coffees, North End, Freedom City Noon It had been an average Friday so far. The weather was nice, and so were most people. It had been rather quiet here in the North End recently, not a whole lot of news-worthy ongoings. The fact FCU’s semesters had ended probably played a major role in that. July was usually when the North End was most quiet, and quite a few locals were aware of that. Still, during lunch there was not a whole lot of action. A few people walking around the streets, most of them sitting in one of the many restaurants and coffee stores. Amongst them, Dimitri Peshkov and Leilani Keli'i , member and mentee of the Freedom League Auxiliary, enjoying some time off. While some people probably realized who was currently sitting over at that table, nobody brought it up. The few other people in the store seemed content just enjoying their own coffee, some typing things on their Laptops or Tablets. Among said other people, Cassidy Bauer, Freelance Photographer and secretly super-hero/villain/terrorist, depending on who you asked. The past few weeks had been rather quiet, which while nice for his health, meant that money wasn’t something he could easily spend. So, Starbase Internet it was. And then, what nobody except one person in the area looked forward too. The very distinct sound of something smashing into a stationary car with high force, and the alarm sounding off afterwards. And then, just a second later, a rock flying through the Starbase’s Front Window, fortunately missing everybody inside.

GM May 7th, 2016, 2.04 AM Somewhere beyond Freedom City, one mile beneath the surface To Alex, the white room stretched into forever, his body floating in a silent void. Only the sensation of the forcefields holding him in place and the faint echoes over the hidden intercom kept things from seeming wholly unreal. The stream of regular visitors kept things lively, too. "As you can see, colonel, the assimian specimen is as unharmed as their sibling." A figure materialized out of the white glare, in the same tan uniform with the same mechanically-styled "G", ventilator mask and narrow glowing eyeslits as the rest. Even the voice, muffled by the uniform, sounded as androgynous and indistinctive as the rest. This one, however, was followed by a whirring drone projecting a silhouette of a face, its features obscured by static. Regardi Alex with its implacable mechanical stare, a voice eventually crackled "Good work. You're sure he can't copy energy forms?" "Positive." Some kind of control panel slid down from the ceiling, and the figure idly checked it over, seeing nothing they did not expect to see "Only solids and possibly certain liquids can be mimicked by the subject. We'll bring them into contact with the piece of the Shard, then proceed with the other tests." "Hm. Keep them in good condition, doctor, and bring back results I can use or nothing at all. That sibling, by the way...can they be enhanced using the subject, like you told them?" The figure laughed, and the control panel vanished like a ghost into the white mist "Nothing's impossible, colonel! But some things are very, very improbable. I'll keep you informed, breaking commlink." The projected face winked out, and the buglike robot droned back into the world outside the void. The figure remained for a moment, regarding Alex as a slender piece of red crystal imprisoned in a clear pillar rose from the floor in front of the teenager. As it began moving closer to him, the figure walked out, saying aloud "Do a good job, subject 13505, and I'll open a channel to your brother's room. "Results I can use", please, like we're ASTRO Labs or something..." The crystal was uncovered, and tilted as it gently came to rest against Alex's forehead. Sakurako's cell The ceiling had four cameras, or at least four visible ones, in each corner. The door was an arrangement of thick metal held in place by a thoroughly old-fashioned forcefield. Perfectly-placed lights kept things illuminated, but allowed for sleep. Outside were thirteen other cells, all empty by the way they were ignored by the guards, who stood facing Endeavor's from the wall opposite. There were various accomodations for living beings, and a privacy screen, but nothing was hidden from the unmoving electronic eyes. "What's with the hair, mutant?" By some quirk, anything inside the cell could be heard in the corridor directly outside (they'd already teased her for snoring while sleeping off the knockout pulse) and the same inside. "Nah, I looked over Loretta's shoulder when she was doing the scan, just chemical dye." "That's no fun. So, what're they going to do with her?" "Still figuring that out. Didn't count on a third person being there when they grabbed the other two." "Long as we don't have to go back to regular duty, hope that takes 'em forever." There was a long pause, and the second guard said "Do you hate being on these memory-loss drugs as much as me?" "So very, very much. Pretty sure you asked me that exact question ten minutes ago." It was actually twenty-eight seconds ago.

GM post Sunday, February 28th 2016 10:30 AM Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship, Private Apartments "It is still early for a Sunday Ma'am." the personal assistant suggested quietly, the protest fell however on deaf ears. "Marjorie, If this was not time sensitive I wouldn't be bothering the poor woman." came the reply clipped but not cold, "Besides they have children and I have raised enough of those to know late mornings are likely the least of their concerns." She added a bit more warmly, "Make the call please." Thus on the crisp february morning the phone in the apartment housing the ever growing Espadas family began to ring. The number was blocked, and at a very high level though expertise such as the household AI like as not could break it in short order and reveal the call as originating from Danger Internationals sprawling Hannover Campus. When the phone was answered Marjorie spoke in a bright and clear tone, "Good morning, I'm trying to reach a Ms. Rebecka Danvers." she requested politely, "Is she available?"

GM 4:00 PM, August 3rd. Ross Haywood had seen better days, but he’d seen worse ones too. The mark of those darker times was still on him. He was underweight for his considerable height, and a spider angioma extended its tendrils along the right side of his neck and the base of his chin, harsh purple-red against the soft brown of his skin. But he was walking more steadily than he used to, and the shaking of his hands was so slight that it was hardly noticeable. Smiling at the thought, he patted the little iron crucifix he carried in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. Twelve steps had seemed an awful long way a year ago, but he’d walked them. That kind, honest smile faded as he remembered his purpose. He’d worn his best suit, secondhand and faded but still possessed of a reserved elegance, in the hopes of gaining an air of respectability. Maybe it was stupid to think of hiring a PI as an occasion, but Ross had been turned down in enough interviews to know that first impressions mattered in any deal. One hand in his pocket, he ran his fingertips across his daughter’s picture and said a little prayer in the back of his mind. He was running out of options, and out of time to make this right. They said that Xavier Steadman was honest. In a town like Bedlam, that was either said derisively or with a vague sense of awe. Ross clung onto the hope that it was true like a drowning man to the edge of a raft. He didn’t have much, but he had learned the hard way what really mattered in life, and he would spend every penny he’d ever scraped together for this if he had to. He’d walked several miles to Steadman’s building; it’d been a long time since he’d been able to afford a car, the buses were dismal, and it would crush his soul to be one taxi fare short of whatever price the PI named. As the building loomed up before him, he took a deep, steadying breath that came out shakier than he’d meant to let it. “Okay, Susie,” he whispered, his voice a deep, rich baritone. “Here we go.” Reaching the office door, he forced one trembling hand to knock.

7:15 AM, August 4th. In Bedlam’s halls of power, nothing ever changed. On the streets, little ever stayed the same. It was about six in the morning that the first early commuters noticed that the front windows of Rothstein’s Jewelers were, for the first time in living memory, totally empty. Most of them just put their gaze right back down on the pavement; not their problem, not when they couldn’t afford breakfast and wouldn’t get dinner either if they missed their shifts. A few dared to wonder if the place had gone out of business, but that seemed odd. Not even the youth gangs spray painting swastikas on the façade had been able to drive Saul Rothstein out, and a man who at eighty-one could still pressure-wash them off personally seemed too lively to just up and die. It wasn’t until seven that someone thought it was odd enough to bother calling the police, and then only by dumb luck. Adam McConnell, who taught at Thaddeus Grissom High, had been saving up for almost seven months to buy that wedding ring in the center window display, and he came by every morning like clockwork to remind himself why he kept trying in a job that was killing him. He knew Saul personally; the old man had a grandkid at Grissom, and had cut almost half off the ring’s price just for Adam. He knew that Saul would die in that store if he had his way. Nothing else would make him close up. Police response time in Stark Hill, even at the edges, was about five minutes; the Bedlam PD actually cared about white folks, if no one else. But as far as they were concerned, Rothstein didn’t really qualify. They saw no reason to hurry if some Jew got himself robbed. So at 7:15 Adam was still the only person who had bothered to stop outside the store, increasingly worried not just about Saul but about losing his job if he didn’t show up by eight. The question kept running through his mind, though: why hadn’t any of Saul’s alarms been tripped?

GM August 3rd, 2016, 2.44 PM Freedom City South River Waterfront The last of the Magmin dropped, hissing, back into the water, lumbering into the blazing hole into Sub-Terra from whence the bizarre semi-molten invaders came. A ragged cheer rang from the very terrified and now very relieved crew of the Chang Ping Xian, who had crowded onto the half of the freight ship that wasn't submerged and partially wedged into the cavern. "Thank you, thank you!" Captain Wong hollered up to the two superheroes, bobbing on his half-melted cargo container and looking much the worse for wear from the brief, fiery and watery battle. Plucking his charred hat from the water, the lean captain added hopefully "I do not mean to impose, but would you please help get my crew to shore? Those things, well, they burned all the lifeboats." Meanwhile, the large motorboat festooned with its quasi-religious banners had stopped holding off thanks to the giant waves and the rock and fire being flung around. This much closer, it quickly became obvious that several of the banners had a similar 'pinnacle' shape to that of the self-help quasi-cult of the Pinnacle Path. The bits about "Hail the New Gods!" and "Lead us to the Heavenly Spire" was new.

Uh... hi. My name is Arcturus. I don't know if anyone will ever see this, but if you do, it's because I want you to know that I'm... well, alive. There's been a lot happening and I haven't had time to sit down and really figure it all out, but I know people will ask where I've been for the last three years. So here goes. Somewhere in East Africa, September 2013 Marcus Irons probably should have been more concerned that he had missed his own graduation. It wasn't that his high school days were some sort of social nightmare; he had made plenty of friends and had one things he'd never dreamed of doing. Still he couldn't help but feel like he didn't belong there. While he certainly had a greater understanding of what it was to use his abilities to help others, he hadn't made much progress on understanding his powers themselves. Explaining his magic to others was one part impossible and four parts embarrassing--most didn't even believe magic was real. It didn't really hit home until his senior year and he was asked to help out with a rescue mission in Eastern Africa. It opened up his entire world, and suddenly he felt less compelled to go back. What was supposed to be a simple evacuation of flood victims turned into something much more sinister. An encounter with pirates and human traffickers nearly resulted in an innocent girl being shot. Arcturus reacted out of instinct and protected her with a Beast Rune form he'd never used before, and while the outcome was a favorable one, it left him confused. He needed answers before 'instinct' turned him into some sort of monster. The problem. however, was where to look. I knew exactly one other guy who used a similar style of magic. He put me into contact with a friend of his who looked at e like I was crazy when he examined the Beast Rune. War-Earth, January 2014 "Are ye SURE yer okay?" The diminutive artificer looked up from his magnifying glass00or whatever it was in his hand; Marcus really couldn't tell. Marcus nodded slowly. "Of course. I mean... I was born with this rune so I figured it was... hm. Normal isn't the word I'd use." Marcus grimaced a little as he felt something cold against his back. "What are you doing anyway?" "Examining. Doctor things. Shh." "...should I be worried?" "How many magical bear shapeshifters have you examined, son?" "Okay. you might have a point." "Never seen a rune fused to a person before. Not like this. Makes sense though... you said it affects all your other magic, right?" "That's right." He nodded again. "I can use magic but it always feels like the Beast Rune is part of it." "Aye... You physical types are all like that." When Marcus didn't say anything, he continued. "See, when anybody uses magic, some of that power always comes from within. So... if the Beast Rune is part of you.." "But I don't get why THAT happened. The whole... turtle thing." "You wanted to protect that little girl. Guess the Beast Rune was tryin' to do the same." I'd never considered that the Beast Rune wasn't trying to take over. It made me wonder if the key to understanding my magic wasn't in asking someone else but asking the Beast Rune itself. When I was a sophomore at Claremont, Eldritch hinted at it but he never really gave me a straight answer. I understand now why I had to come to that conclusion on my own. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

Library Claremont Academy Freedom City United States of America What was this unfamiliar sensation? Oh. Yes. Regret. That was it. Jake lay across two chairs in a back corner of the academy library - a stick of black licorice sticking up out of his mouth like a flagpole; lightly shaking as it was chewed. He was dressed in his usual fashion - tooled leather boots, blue jeans, sleeveless shirt, wide-brimmed hat, metal limiter harness. Around him lay the detritus of study, more specifically, a ten-page essay on the significance of early adoption of capes in heroic fashion. Well, more like one page, at the moment. If you were being generous. And counted two words at the top as a 'page'. And counted your name as two words. The fact that it was due tomorrow, in turn, may have been contributing to the unfamiliar sensation. Jake chewed on the licorice (still tasted like drek, damnit), staring at the ceiling tiles.

Ellis sat in a khaki shorts and a sage polo sipping his iced coffee on the warm summer afternoon. The call for this 'friendly coffee' hadn't been exactly a surprise but Ellis none the less was uncertain what exactly to expect of Carson. He supposed there was always the chance that it would be some sitcom overprotective male act but he somehow didn't see Stesha standing for that kind of posturing on her behalf as well intentioned as it might be. Most likely it was another in a long list of friends that had seen her hurt before and was worried their exceptionally nascent romance might do so again. He had resolved however to meet the man regardless of purpose it couldn't be worse than the dismissive sneers the dragon woman aimed his direction most times.

Doom Room, Claremont Academy May 5, 2016 School was almost out, even at the rather unusual educational facility known as Claremont Academy. Then again, even heroes-in-training needed a break. Assuming they were the sorts who believed in "taking breaks". Some, like the three in attendance here, didn't quite get that idea, at least not all the time. Woodsman and Nighthawk, who often practiced various scenarios in the Doom Room alone, as a pair, or with their friends anyways, were in here on the request of Headmistress Summers. She somehow managed to mix "as stern as a mountain" and "concerned about your education" into one frightening package. In this case, she had "strongly suggested" they undergo a training exercise with a student-hero who they may or may not have heard of, let alone seen or met, but who would give them good practice working with other more...subtle...hero types. They were currently in the control room of the Doom Room, apparently by themselves. The control screen showed a few potential scenarios, with the settings listing 3 combatants. And the difficulty was set...pretty high. Not horrifically so. Certainly not at the locked-down "Wander" level. But not "newbie" level, either.