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GM 16th April 2016 Freedom City The Bum Note Jazz Club. The Bum Note Jazz club was cheap and smoky. The wood was stained from booze, cigars, and stains of a less clear, and probably unsavoury nature. But wood it had, and charm too. And slow, drunken, low Jazz, full of brass and thick bass strings, peppered with snappy off beat snares and smooth strange time signatures. Horny Dick was smoking and tapping his hand to the peculiar and slick Jazz trio on stage. Horny Dick had been a top trumpet player and dirty rotten scoundrel back in the 70s. Today, Horny Dick had a busted lip, a Jazz Club that usually broke even, and was a dirty rotten scoundrel. The Bum Note played on. It had a few criminals. A few politicians. There was probably even a few people who were not both. And today, it had a dark haired lady in a red cut off top that was far too small, and red flared trousers that were far too flared, and red platforms that were just about right. Her smoking eyes swam from right to left, and left to right. For today, two superheroes would enter the Bum Note.

North Bay 2am EDT, April 13, 2016 Clear, cool, light wind... STARHAWK... There is a motorcycle navigating the winding public roads of North Bay, it's white and sky blue paint job and it's rider in what looked like a very involved motorcycle suit and a large backpack of matching color winded about. It was a superhero tradition for a hero to do patrols. The newly renamed Starhawk wanted to do so but not flying. She thought if she actually wanted to catch a malfeasance, she would catch it on the ground. Then again the past few months has been nothing but test flights for Archetech. Now that business had subsided and the contract fulfilled, she looked forward to getting back in the game. A new look helped, changing the color scheme and design of her suit and recent tweaks to her flight pack added to the more avian look she wanted to portray. She stopped on a hill overlooking the seaside, the Aeronautical Adventurer parked somewhere dark where the night-vision system of her suit wouldn't be impeded. "All's quiet so far... seems this area isn't the best for beating up a thief... then again there's areas ripe for the taking about here." She said, looking about, attaching a manually focused monocle that acted like a spy-glass, the only thing that could work with the night-vision sensor on her helmet. "Hmm..." That was when she heard a smash of glass and the sound of a cat in the distance... she wasn't sure where, but it seemed to come from one of the non-gated residences. "That's something worth checking out..." She said to herself, riding off. She couldn't park there and she did like her motorcycle. Keeping her vision about her she looked around for anything out of place as she started to near the area...

April 1st, 1:45 PM. "The Cline's huh? I watch their show." Came the cheery sounding tones of Det. Kirkendahl. A small smile on his face as he pulled up the rather nice house of the famous super powered couple in the unmarked sedan. He combed his hair back as he looked up at it. The partner, Det. Boyle, was checking his phone and frowning. "You would watch their show. You want to take the lead? I mean, these people aren't precisely the type we can buffalo easily, and they are going to be hiding things." The more severe looking dark haired detective frowned, and squinted as he looked up from his phone at their house, the unseasonably warm and clear day had him lifting his arm to blow the glare. "God, it is too sunny." "Probably not, so I guess we be as honest as possible, and hope they actually have something. It isn't like these types keep tabs on each other extensively." Rubbing at his chin Kirkendahl looked to Boyle, and then nodded. "Let's give it a go." He reached back to grab at the tablet, and he moved out of the car and up to the front door of the Cline's place. Boyle followed after him, a bit slower, having to get his jacket from the backseat as well. Moving after Kirkendahl, a bit of a quickened pace to make sure they made it to the door together, and he made a gruff sound. "Try not to be a starry eyed fan boy, eh?" And he hit the doorbell, before stepping back and shaking his head as he regarded Kirkendahl. "I will keep my gushing to a minimum, if you can stop being a cynical bastard." A smirk on his face as he glancing at Boyle, while waiting for the door to be opened.

"I hate fish people," said Det. Boyle. The fifteen veteran of the FCPD groused as his partner, Det. Kirkendahl pulled their car up at the Cline Building. In his early forties, Boyle was a hardbitten looking man, from a job that tended to create hardbitten people. He had been assigned to Major Crimes for a year, or so, before getting put to STAR, it is possibly a punishment. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and thinning at the top, but he kept it short. Dark eyes always probing and being inquisitive, crows feet in the corners to match the various worry lines, as a map of cynicism (realism if you asked him). There was a sense of being lived in, though he kept his off the rack suits meticulous. "Now, Boyle, you can't use those terms this day and age. We have be modern and understanding, besides, it's been forever since they invaded," Kirkendahl responded to the grumpy grousing of his partner. He was lighter, dirty blonde hair, and a less careworn face, but he was actually older than Boyle by a couple years, though they had pretty contiguous lengths of service. Though he had actively sought out duty on STAR as a challenge, in opposite his partner. He parked the sedan, and turned to his partner and smirked, "Besides, this... Thaelia woman is a Princess, which y'know good for us schmucks to hob nob with the upper class." He was slightly more crumpled looking, but then his suits fit less due to recent weight loss, so he had yet to update his wardrobe. The withering glare he received was indicative of Boyle's general countenance, as well as his joy at what Kirkendahl said. "Do I look British? Besides she is living in a project, sure a Super project, but a project. Let's get this over with before she does some bizzare fish person thing." And with that he was out of the car, and striding towards the lobby, and then the elevator. "A little! Around the eyes! You like Lana Del Ray, for Chrissake!" Kirkendahl had to pull on his suit jacket, before following, but he made his way after him, and into the elevator on the way up. "After this... wanna get some dinner? I am feeling sushi." Unable to hold in the Cheshire grin on his face as he did that. The response was a stony silence. * * * A short while later they were knocking at the door to Thaelia's door, before hitting the little intercom button. "Your Highness? This is Detectives Kirkendahl and Boyle, with the FCPD, we're here to talk to you about a classmate of yours, may we come in?" asked Kirkendahl, his finger pressing on the button, before rocking back on his heels and glancing to Boyle and releasing it. "Think we may have to call her?" "I don't think fish people have phones."

Wednesday April 27, 2016 Washington, DC AEGIS Headquarters The AEGIS headquarters in Washington, DC is not where most of the field agents are posted - the single largest AEGIS facility is located in Freedom City. This building, one of dozens of other square glass boxtowers built along the Anacostia River, is a place of bureaucrats; payroll clerks and human resources types, archivists and pension planners, the thousands of other workers whose unglamorous jobs keep the glamorous agents of AEGIS fed, happy, and well-paid. The MAX Armor agents kept on staff here are there mostly to deal with supervillains whose research for major super-battles consists of Googling "AEGIS Headquarters." With a heavy BOOM, the last of the MAX agents hit the parking lot asphalt, the sound of impact soon drowned out by the cataclysmic storm overhead. As millions of fist-sized hailstones rain down on AEGIS, tough windows cracking but not shattering, as lightning splits the sky overhead, a voice breaks the heavens, carried by the thunder itself. Although it seems to crack the air above AEGIS headquarters, it echoes across the city, reflected by nearly every surface in an intimidating feat of acoustics. "LADIES. GENTLEMEN. HERE WE ARE, AT THE HEART OF THE CANCER THAT CALLS ITSELF 'POLITICS.' FOR TOO LONG, YOU HAVE DEFIED THE WILL OF THE EARTH! YOU HAVE CRAFTED LAWS THAT ENABLE AND SHELTER THOSE WHO SPILL POISON UPON THE LAND AND THE SEA! YOU HAVE SHELTERED THOSE WHO IMPRISON AND TORTURE THEIR FELLOW CREATURES, DOING NOTHING AS THESE BUTCHERS CONDUCT A BLOOD-STAINED CAMPAIGN ENDING IN THE DEVOURING OF FLESH! YOU WASTE YOUR TIME WITH SENTIMENT AS PEOPLE ARE ENCOURAGED TO WASTE THE SEED AND THE EGG, DENYING THE CREATION OF NEW LIFE! THE STORM WILL COME TO SWEEP AWAY ALL YOU PERVERTS, POLLUTERS, AND OTHER FILTH - AND I AM THE STORM! WHEN THE HARD RAIN FALLS UPON YOU, YOU WILL KNOW YOU HAVE A CHOICE TO MAKE. REPENT YOUR SINS... OR BE WASHED AWAY."

Kestevan 79 The Spinal Core, Coalition Victory Station Lor time mark 1482.4 [April 2, 2016 (Terran Calender)] The Voidrunners' work rarely brought them near CoVic Station, as their bounties typically favored the border regions, away from whatever government, organization or individual that was looking for them. But their latest bounty had required them to make the delivery to CoVic Station, so now they had the rare chance to take in the thriving galactic hub that had arisen in the aftermath of the Incursion. Currently, they were making their way into the Spinal Core. The Spinal Core was a section of CoVic Station that had developed as the central market place, filled with business and shops. Its named derived from the fact that it was built along the inside of a hundred-meter-wide shaft that descended deep into the lower levels of the station from the section where most of the embassies and other governmental facilities had been established. With the somewhat hasty construction that had taken place in making parts of CoVic Station habitable, the engineers had not bothered trying to alter the shaft, but had simply set up the artificial gravity generators so that the entire surface of the Spinal Core was covered with two or three story buildings and numerous stalls. Assuming one could find a straight path that went all the way around the interior of the Core, it would have been possible to have starting walking and ending up right back where one had started. While there had been an initial attempt to set out orderly and symmetrical buildings and shops, expansion and additions had quickly sprung up that created twisting and curving avenues. Added to this were numerous small stalls and vendors selling their wares on a mat laid on the ground, making the Spinal Core something of a crowded, fast paced environment where all manner of goods could be found, if one looked hard enough. The Voidrunners had been taking in the sights of the Spinal Core, and taking advantage of the wide array of goods, when the news that a Stellar Khanate warship had emerged from the nearby wormhole and approached the station. As sense of nervousness had come over many in the Core, although they still went about their business as best they could. It lessened somewhat when the news began to spread that apparently the Khanate ship was delivering a diplomatic envoy that was to meet with Ambassador Th'emme and envoys from other intergalactic governments that had embassies aboard the station.

Kembel Outer length of the Perseus Arm, former Khanate Space Lor time mark 1482.4 [April 2, 2016 (Terran Calendar)] Kembel was a lush, mostly tropical world that rotated around a blue giant star. With more than half its surface covered with relatively shallow seas, the continents that extended out from the planet's equator were covered with thick jungles. Despite the seemingly inhospitable terrain, Kembel had been colonized centuries ago, and quickly developed into a rather thriving world with dozens of species from around the sector within its small cities. Its location along the outer edge of what had once been part of the Stellar Khanate meant that it had been fortunate enough to be bypassed during the Communion's initial advance. The tide of refugees from many other Khanate worlds had only swelled the planet's population, a situation that had not changed much since the Communion’s defeat. With the chaos that had gripped the Khanate in the aftermath of the Incursion, Kembel had been one of the worlds that had taken the opportunity to establish its independence from the Khanate. It was here that a small group of Praetorians made their way through the crowded streets of one of Kembel's major cities. Cavalier and Moon-Moth did not have to worry too much about being jostled by the crowds, as Seresk's massive presence just behind them tended to cause the crowd make a bit more space for them to pass. The old buildings of this part of the city were covered with trees, vines and other planets that had grown up along the walls over the centuries, making the city itself seem like just another part of the jungle that lay around it. The three had been sent here to meet up with Traveller, who, since the incident involving the two Terrans that had been caught up with the Spectrum Knights and pursued by the Lor military, had officially been disavowed by the Praetorians, and had headed off into the border regions of Khanate space. Of course, this had been a planned by Paradigm and Traveller, to provide Traveller the appearance of being an independent, as she made her way out into Khanate space to see what sorts of information she might be able to gather about the state of things.

GM Kestevan 79 Coalition Victory Station Lor time mark 1482.4 [April 2, 2016 (Terran Calender)] The slightly over a year that had passed since the Battle of Kestevan 79 and the defeat of the Communion had seen the former Communion mothership converted into a thriving center of galactic trade and politics. Multiple city sized sections of the former Communion mothership had been converted into living areas, markets and commercial districts, ship yards, industrial facilities, and all the other amenities one would expect of advance spacefaring societies. The station had become a truly cosmopolitan collection of the various galactic civilizations that had made up the Coalition that had defeated the Communion. Within the station there could be found representatives from all the races that made of the former Coalition members, and beyond. While it was not uncommon for tensions to exist between those that had long been enemies, those feeling were somewhat offset by the promise that the station represented, when those former enemies had come together to face a common foe and ensure the survival of all. But today, the normal routine of the vast space station had been disrupted, at least for the organizations aboard with sensor equipment that scanned the area around the station and monitored the traffic at the nearby wormhole which connected the remote system to other parts of the known galaxy. Just a short while ago, a Stellar Khanate cruiser had emerged from the wormhole, quickly causing the many smaller transports that were flying to or from the wormhole to scatter from its path. The Khanate cruiser approached CoVic Station at a steady pace, not making any overtly hostile movements. As best as the many sensors scanning it could tell, the cruiser had not charged any of its many weapons. Then, a transmission was sent from the Khanate cruiser to CoVic Station, focused on the channels used by the various governmental embassies, the station peacekeepers and administrators, and the Praetorians. "Greetings, I am Ambassador Draan Raal of the Stellar Khanate." Stated a stern and confident Zultasian noble in GalStandard. "I am here on behalf of the great Kinan Khan and request an audience with the ambassadors of the Lor Republic, Grue Unity and other governments that made up the Coalition Council which have official embassies aboard Coalition Victory Station."

Hinocorp Nautical Concepts Front Showroom 2:23am, Saturday, April 2, 2016 GM The Freedom City PD are milling around the shattered glass of the front showroom as the detectives and crime scene investigators look over the scene. A captain Peterson has her hands on her hips as the clean-suited crime scene techs look over everything with a fine-toothed comb. A couple KOed security guards in blue jumpsuit-like uniforms with the Nautical division of Hinocorp Heavy Industries' logo on a pocket are being tended to by paramedics for a couple good bruises over their eyes and inhaling some sort of gas that knocked them out that has them nauseous. "Can't believe there's nothing yet that anyone's found..." The Captain said looking over to the head of the investigation team, a Detective Samuels. His gruff look hid some caring eyes and an attention for detail. "Yeah, smashed the outer windows, but not anything in here was stolen." "Except what was up with the office on the second floor?" "Dunno. The computers were on but no one was up there but those two security guys..." "Hmm... think we should put a call out to the state crime lab?" "I think we could keep it in the city for now. I called in a couple of favors to get a couple cowls in on this." "Which ones?" "Terrifica, Shrike and some new kid, Bonfire" "Well two of them I know... not sure on Bonfire..." "Well we'll see soon enough!"

The Fens, Freedom City, New Jersey April 5, 2016, 9:25 PM It was a typical Tuesday night in Freedom City. While the full nightlife of downtown and other areas around the city were not at the levels they achieved over the weekend, the restaurants and some other venues were still doing good business. But in the southeastern corner of the city know as the Fens the streets were a lot more dark and deserted. While the waterfront bars and adult bookstores that tended to littler the area were open, they were far from crowded. Those that lived in the area tended to remain inside come nightfall, inside the often rundown, low rent buildings that made up most of the Fens. While the FCPD had been trying to step up efforts to patrol the Fens and "clean it up," there was still a fair bit of crime in its shadow alleys and streets. As such, it was not uncommon for some of the city's costumed heroes to be out patrolling the Fens. Indeed, the desire to try to help the troubled area had brought three separate heroes to the dark rooftops and alleys of the Fens this evening. Cassidy Bauer, also known as Bonfire, lived in the Fens, so he saw the crime and difficult conditions that the area suffered from on a daily basis. James White, aka Quantum Shift, was a newcomer to this dimension, having arrived from an alternate Earth. But that did not stop him from using the abilities he had gained from alien experimentation to try to help the people of his adopted new home. Jason Draco was a Freedom City native, although he grown up in North Bay, the part of Freedom City as geographically and economically opposite the Fens as possible. Having been away from Freedom City for seven years, Jason found the Fens little better than it had been when he had last read about it. Now, as Eternal Dragon, he could possible make at least some small difference that might change that. All three were moving through the shadows of the Fens when the shrill sound of police sirens echoed over other noises of the city. Not long after, a loud *BOOM* reverberated through the air, rattling windows as it seemed to echo from the edge of the area that bordered the Theater District.

Monday April 25 Trinity Hospital After the events in Ocean Heights, Rhode Island, and Mexico, the heroes of Freedom City (and indeed the world) are aware of the global threat of the Makot Mitzrayim - the Plagues of Egypt. The threat isn't just the Plagues, of course, but the people driven to hysteria (one way or another) by an apocalypse that seems ("but only seems" Seven stressed in her briefing sent to the major superteams) to correspond to that of the three largest religions on Earth. The Interceptors in particular, thanks to Harrier and Echo's report from down in Mexico, have gotten a strong picture of what's going on. But with only one attack in Freedom City proper, it's easy for most people to let life go on. In the West End in the last few days there's been a freakishly rare flu epidemic, one of those bizarre moments that can happen in a city full of people and exposed to all sorts of exotic chemicals, viruses, and other ailments over the years. Things are bad enough that the hospital is nearly full, getting them to send non-emergency cases home, and they've called out volunteer doctors from other hospitals to help deal with the crisis. The flu can be a scary disease for parents, the elderly, the unlucky - especially when it turns to pneumonia. So if the hospital chapel is particularly packed with people praying for their families and themselves, well, maybe it has nothing to do with the Plagues of Egypt. At least until you turn on the news - and catch the continued cleanup elsewhere in the city, the nation, the world. But the heroes of Freedom have dealt with worse than this...right?

Date: April 1, 2016 Location: Hilo, Hawaii It being April 1st, the early reports of 'nightmare creatures disgorged from the seabed' were assumed to be prank calls especially since these particular calls came from a less populous corner. It was only when the wedding party showed up for their sunset pictures that the panic truly started. While most of the white sand remained lovely and pristine, close to the water's edge it began to blacken, smoldering in the heat. At first glance it seemed that an odd fissure had opened up in the beach, disgorging lava from some previously unknown magma tunnel - boiling the water that touched the edges of the disturbance and sending plumes of smoke into the air. It was only when the lava groaned and then rolled over that true hysteria set in. Across the country, the Freedom League's headquarters lit up with alarms and reports of monsters and nightmares and living lava from panicked officials that were not sure exactly what governmental service one called for that sort of thing. Thankfully, there was always the Freedom League standing ready. Of course as the panic was happening in the late evening in Hawaii, the League got the alerts a little before 4AM by Freedom City's clock. A hero's work was never done!

Zebulon System Along the reaches of the Scutum-Centarus Arm Oskar struggled with the controls of the Xeno as the ship spun out of control into the upper atmosphere of the system's second planet. It was impossible to tell when the ship's power would completely give out, but with a bit of luck it would not be before he was able to get it down onto the ground for at least a controlled crash. This was supposed to have been a simple survey expedition, with Oskar and the Xeno hired to survey a few planets far from the outer edge of the Lor Republic. Getting out this far had been no small task, with Oskar having stopped at a few other locations along the way. But shortly after he had reached the Zebulon system, the Xeno had come under attack by pirates. Unable to outrun them, and with the Xeno taking heavy damage, Oskar had tried heading towards the most habitable planet in the hopes of losing them closer to the surface. That was until the last hit which had damaged the ship's engine and power grid. "I cannot do anything about the failing power grid while we are spinning around out here!" Called out Soreen over the Xeno's intercom system from the engine room. The pale blue skinned female humanoid was one of the crew that had accompanied Oskar on this job. She was a talented engineer who helped keep the ship flying, but there was only so much she could do in the middle of a firefight....

GM Post Great Bay, Riverrock Island, Thursday, March 25th 2013, Superheroine Pitch - real name rock journalist Carmen Cantos - allong with the Captain of the S.S.Gadelica ship - the ship that had ferried Carmen to Riverrock island, which had been marooned on the Island the night the demons were unleashed and murdered rockstar Acheron - S.S.Gadelica crewmember William Smithson, and island residents Dennis and Pedro - both servants of the now late Acheron, real name George-Louis Phlegethon - made their way to Phlegethon's Villa, situated in the center of the island. Their journey to St.Blaise's village, in order to find clues to the appearance of the demons on the island, was met with minimum success, yielding precious few information about the history of the island, before being met with a horde of demons, summoned by a mystically imbued and highly cryptic golem, the Magician. Carmen defeated the Magician, aqcuiring the stone tablet that was used as a medium to materialize and anchor the Magician in the process, but during the battle, Dennis and Pedro were severely wounded. Dennis managed to recover, with some minimal rest, but Pedro's life, while outside of immediate threat, is still hanging in the balance. Deciding to postpone further searching for clues, and prioritizing the safety of the civilians under her care, Carmen decided to escort the wounded to the back to Phlegethon's Villa, in which the servants and the rest of the crew of the S.S.Gadelica had hidden, having fortified places of it in order to stave off the demons. It had been a long, busy, and eventful day since Pitch's arrival on the island. What had started as a prospective interview with a famous rockstar in an exotic scenery, had quickly turned into a living nightmare. A nightmare that was still going... Phlegethon's Villa 15:32 The journey through the hailstorm had been a tiresome affair, not only for Pitch, but for the humans as well. Smithson, in particular, had to bear the brunt of it, what with carrying Pedro on a stretcher all by himself. Every so often, the group had to find a defensible, fortified spot, so that they could rest and catch their breaths. This meant that the journey back to the villa took almost twice as much as it had taken them to arrive to the village. Nevertheless, conservation of strength was of a high priority to the group, and while thankful that they'd finally arrived at the manor, they were largely no worse for the wear than they had been two hours ago. The humans inside the manor welcomed the lot, providing them with water and warm blankets to stave off the cold. Alex Movida, Phlegethon's personal valet and closest confidant, rushed to the help of the wounded servants. "Oh, heavens, are you alright?" he asked, worry written clearly on his face. "Quick, get Doctor Homelock here!" he shouted, and at once a servant went to usher the resident pathologist. Billy Blooms, photographer from Rock Report who had been assigned to help Carmen, ran concernedly towards Pitch. "Boss? What happened? You all look like you've been through hell!" he asked the superheroine, aghast at their disheveled, sweaty, and dirty looks. "More run-ins with the demons?"

GM February 20, Saturday, 11.25AM, 2016 The Cresswell Building, corner of Lombard and Madison, Freedom City After making a full physical recovery from the harrowing battle in the Goodman Building, it was necessary for the Claremont students involved to undergo psychiatric evaluation. Riley already had regular sessions with Claremont's experienced counselor, and Naomi was signed up withhim as well, but Robin's trials and the workload on-campus had led the Headmistress to, in a rare moment, contact an outside expert for help. Which was why Robin was standing outside a dazzling Art Deco skyscraper in the heart of downtown Freedom, stylized City Fathers and their hangers-on smiling patronizingly down at her. The sun shone down with unusual warmth for mid-February on the Atlantic coast, the sky was clear, the air marginally fresher, the seagulls making their plaintive cry over the gentle rumble of late morning traffic. A perfect day for sitting in a room answering a stranger's questions. The terse note in Headmistress Callie Summers' handwriting instructed Floor 15. Dr. Chandler. Be polite.

Saturday April 23, 2016 9AM "This is Franklin Martinez at Waterplace Park in Providence, Rhode Island..." From behind the newscaster came the deafening chorus of voices raised in song - a bellowing, eerie song that could come from no human throats. He moved aside, letting the camera see the thousands of green and white-bodied creatures occupying the park, squatting in the river and the streets, hopping and singing their songs even as more came out of the water behind him. Deep Ones! Some were naked and weaponless, looking like the giant frog-fish humanoids they were, others wore black armor that looked like wrought iron and carried long, lethal-looking tridents. "Beginning early this morning, the Deep Ones began emerging from the Woonasquatucket River and occupying the heart of the city! So far the police and military have established a perimeter to keep back the invaders, but with their numbers increasing - " Suddenly, the Deep One nearest the newscaster (some thirty feet away, and behind barricades) leaped over and licked him, slapping him across the cheek with an arm-length green, bumpy tongue. The man shouted in surprise and staggered, nearly falling down, but kept his feet. He looked up at the camera, obviously rattled, and began to speak. "I, uh..." He wavered for a moment, then suddenly began stripping off his shirt. "Te veo a Jesús ! ¡Te veo!" he declared, his eyes wide and staring, a moment before the camera cut off entirely, returning to the news broadcast about the Deep One invasion of Providence, Rhode Island. At Aquaria and Jessie's apartment, Aquaria rose from her bacon-wrapped kippers and croaked, her voice warbling with the hiss that spoke of holding back a shout, "Jesssie, we need to go. We need to go there right now."

Friday April 22, 2016 It's an ordinary Friday afternoon - if you count news of a terrorist attack on Ocean Heights Amusement Park as ordinary. No one on the police scanner is entirely sure what's going on - there are reports of multiple officers down, some sort of massacre, "blood, blood everywhere," but whatever it is, it's very bad! If Nina was honest with herself, the main reason she was at mosque today was because she was in costume. The little Kingston storefront mosque wasn't the sort of place she'd go to worship even if she was feeling so inclined - too humble and unadorned, with the sort of simplicity that bespoke the sort of temporal poverty she still wasn't accustomed to. But speaking to the handful of young women at the mosque, most of them black Americans, well, that was a satisfying experience for the princess of Socotra. "From Nusayba to Queen Arwa, women have led, women have ruled, women of the Faith have fought from the very beginning. Never let anyone tell you you cannot be what you are because you are a Muslim." She looked around and struck one hand against another, her voice rising. "And never let anyone tell you that you can only ever be a Muslim - our faith is a finger on the hand that we raise to fight against injustice." When her police beeper went off, she reluctantly made her excuses, leaving behind her card before she headed outside to don her shoes and gather up her sword. Looking back as the glass door closed behind her, she waved to the excited young women inside, many of whom were taking pictures on their phones, before she began leaping from rooftop to rooftop, propelling herself towards the Amusement Park that was evidently the scene of some serious crisis.

December 2015 Voidrunner When the big barracuda-like ship didn't follow them, Aquaria croaked in noisy relief before settling down into her seat. As she did so, she realized just how much her relief was mixed by fear. Despite impossible odds and impossible distances, things had come through for Sea Devil and Singularity, for Aquaria and Jessie. It wouldn't be long now before they were back in the Solar System - a concept she only hazily understood but that she knew meant they were close to Earth, and close to a return to the home she and Jessie had been trying to get back to for weeks. Close to trouble. She was acutely aware, twitching in her seat, of all that had happened - of how her pride had sent them to the stars, of how her anger had gotten that Surfacer killed, and of how all the stars of space had seemed to be against them on their journey. She knew, too, that her life in Freedom City was not her own - she was a symbol of the fear and loathing that Surfacers had for her kind, and a criminal to boot. With all that she'd done, what would happen when she returned? Blackstone again? Perhaps Atlantean custody? Or maybe just exile - a banishment to the waters off Freedom's coast where she was an outcast among all who lived beneath the waves. Turning to her still night-catatonic friend, Aquaria took a long breath and released it as a deep, almost subsonic, bellow. Jessie would be home in the world of her birth, surrounded by her people, away from the world that Aquaria had thrust her into. That was what mattered. Through the blood of sacrifice, I gain power, she thought, closing her big goggle eyes. Through the blood of sacrifice, we are free. Up front, the dinky little Terran comet belt station had just hailed the Voidrunner.

Starbase #00026, corner of 40th and Allen, Midtown, Freedom City, 2nd of April, Saturday, 2016, 50 revolutions since last long-range inspection by the Lor Republic Folding down his holocor screen, Dol-Druth glanced around at the world that would be his home for the foreseeable future. It was warmer here than when he'd arrived on the exceptionals' Lighthouse. The northern hemisphere was tilting back towards SL-43, blazing gold in the faintly nauseating blue-hued sky. A slender sliver of silver was visible through the squat canyons of Midtown's buildings, a daily reminder to the planet inspector that he could be somewhere civilized right now, and not need to leave the system to do it. With a grumbling noise at the back of his throat, the bureaucrat leaned back in the chair of metal mesh, feeling it waver slightly under his hundred-odd kilograms, glancing at his fellow patrons, most of whom either gawked openly or surreptitiously. It was the same with the steady stream of humans going up and down the street, either on foot, on bi-wheeled contraptions of remarkable ingenuity, or in groundcars that roared and rumbled like something out of the Khanate arenas. He'd endured plenty of stares, but for the most part this settlement seemed fairly used to people with unusual appearances, so the stares were pretty much it. It was cutting into his data-gathering, especially since those that did pause mostly just took pictures, giggled, or asked him incredibly stupid questions like- "Are you an alien?" A very large, wholly bald white-skinned man in a shifting suit of iridescent beige swiveled around, levelling a pair of slender antennae and a pair of large, black eyes set in a humourless face at the human pupa who'd spoken, a female with a cloud of kinked black hair, clothed in vivid colours that made the inspector's gut clench. For a second, but only one, Dol-Druth considered saying "No." But he wasn't here to lie to children, he was here to find out what these children were thinking and were going to become. With a forbidding scowl he replied "Yes. I am Planet Inspector Dol-Druth, Speaking for Dotrae, the Lor of the Manymind and the Lost Planet. I wish to learn about your world and-" The girl was already dashing to her very embarrassed-looking dam "MOM, MOM, I JUST MET AN ALIEN!" she all but screamed, which got her a stern lecture that carried on to around the block and out of the Civic Rotundan's sight. Dol-Druth glared at the cup of vegetable-strained water and the clump of sweetened grains in front of him. The Grue Pseudo had told him that coffee shops were common places for humans to congregate and meet new people. Had this all been an elaborate joke at his expense? "I wouldn't expect much more of a shifter, even if he is severed from the Meta-Mind" the insectile Lor muttered, taking a ginger sip of his coffee. It hadn't gotten any better after it cooled down. Settling back into his chair, he checked the holographic sign. It at least was working as intended, saying in bright letters of soft light INTERVIEWEES WANTED FOR INTERTERRESTRIAL CIVIC PROGRAMME Perfectly clear. Joke or not, this place was at least where people were. All he had to do was wait. Something he was going to have to get used to sooner or later. Again. 'Bird Galactic, I hate my job'

March 1st, 2016, 2.03 AM (AST) The Warrens, West wall of Farside Crater, the dark side of the Moon, Sol System At all times the caves felt empty. The walls were covered in ornate and sophisticated technology, the floors often interrupted by sweeping, elegant examples of Farsider engineering, normally the squared tunnels blazed with light, but the silence of the vacuum and the blackness of deactivation made it all feel like a very elaborate stage, not a place that anyone could live in. As she materialized on the teleportation dais, clutching her precious cargo, Atraxia looked at the motionless, austere world around her with a swell of pride. As the last of the blue-gold shimmers of recoherence faded, the dead Farsider straightened up, free of the oppressive grip of Olderth gravity, and flew, pausing only briefly to verify her identity to the monitoring system. At once, the rest of the power cells kicked in, and the world changed. As Atraxia sped like a dark arrow through the now brilliantly-lit tunnels, she relaxed at last, grip loosening on the container still closely held against her black and red terrasuit. Inside, something pale writhed against magno-gravitic bonds, something which could make a corpse's eyes glitter with curiosity and delight. It had been years since it had fallen to Olderth's surface and somehow, despite all odds and the high price the governments of the planet would place on it, she was the first to recover it. One piece, all hers. Coming at last to the doors of her laboratory, the Farsider reached out a spindly arm, sinking it into an adjacent aperture. She felt mechanisms inside remove the sleeve of her 'suit, and then nothing. With a tone that she had spent days perfecting, wasted on the acrid void, the door spiraled open, revealing a dizzying wonderland of intricate tools, specimens in myriad rainbows of solutions and nutrient baths, plodding simulations, readouts describing in exhaustive detail every action of every molecule of their given subject. It was a pleasure to step inside, to let the door cycle shut, blocking out the messy world and step into one of harmony and direction. Taking the cylinder of silver gold to a spare section of her exotic containment module, Atraxia slid the thing into place, tested the field inside with a flick of her dead wrist and a flicker of her blank blue eyes to a crystalline guage, and taking a breath of useless air injected the Gorgon shard into its new home. At once the inchoate mass of consuming, imprisoning nanites tried to break free, twisting and distorting as it tried to get a grip on something solid enough to entomb and ossify, but repulsed by a shifting stream of energy waves it could do little but fall into a pattern of outgrowth, collapse and regrowth. Staring in a moment's gleeful awe at the mass of miniscule robots that would have rapidly reduced her and her home to a petrified state, the vampire quickly recovered herself and settled in to examine her find. Hunching over a translucent display, she absently thumbed a button that unfolded a nearby section of wall, offering a fresh canister of cloned blood. Swapping it with the empty one in her 'suit, the vampire felt her cares and stress wash away under the soothing quasi-sensation of revitalization, the new blood spreading through her withered veins and pumping into her wrinkled skull. For all that, she was as motionless as a statue, as a part of the high-tech furniture, as the silent walls and tunnels of the deathly-still Warrens. In moments, it was just her and the data, the rest of the universe and its inhabitants a distant fifth concern. As were the facts that matter-transit signals could be tracked, and that maybe, just maybe, somebody else might want what she'd found.

Early February 2016 The weekend came and went - and Riley and Robin weren't back on campus from their weekend furlough. After classes on Monday, the RAs, with serious faces, assured Woodsman and Nighthawk's friends that the school knew where they were. On Tuesday, Headmaster Summers made a general announcement that Robin Chevalier had been seriously injured in the field and was currently recovering at McNider Hospital. These things didn't happen that often at Claremont; but there were procedures in place for counseling, for making cards, for hospital visits - it was something the staff all had in hand. There was no need to cut school, not when visiting hours would still be open in the evening. Of course, all that assumed you wanted to listen to staff in the first place. - Robin hadn't wanted to go to the hospital - hadn't wanted to go at all. But the personal intervention of Headmaster Summers, who had met the pair of them at the Goodman Building clinic on Sunday night, had changed her mind; largely with the reassurances that a false name would get her in the system without any risk of the system finding her again. McNider was the oldest hospital in Freedom City. They'd been discreetly taking care of superheroes for decades now. Riley'd gone to the hospital too, mostly to make sure he hadn't irradiated himself when he'd grappled Tesla Atom at the moment she'd been bisected by the forces between dimensions. He wound up calling from Robin's room, though, carefully punching out digits on the hospital phone. It was Tuesday mid-morning, right? It had been easy enough to lose track the last day, when all he'd been thinking about was the burned, bleeding woman on the bed, the one he'd have given his heart for. Luckily she was asleep - for now.

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.

Outside the Main School Building, Claremont Academy Morning, 5th March 2016 In the cold overcast light of another day a little group of students reluctantly gathered outside the building waiting for a teacher to arrive to deliver there punishment for the morning. For these were students who it was thought a simple detention wasn’t enough, they needed to learn to get on with each other. Each group would get a little patch of ground to clear of trash and hopefully learn to work together. The teacher for the day was a relatively new who whenever seen was always impeccably dressed in a suit her hair tied up into a bun, rumors swirled if she was a super or now as she hadn’t displayed any hint of obviously powers. One by one she assigned each couple their assignment, in her soft local accent, and handed out the equipment to gather the few trash. “And finally we have Ms Morningstar and Ms Clouston.”

GM 12:01 AM, February 29th, 2016. Claremont, Academy. They were usually good dreams. Of fire. Often without the smoke, without the consequences of the fire. Freud would have a field day with them, or the school's counselors would. In dreams they were like waves, like liquid dancing in impossible manners and forms. Held only to dream logic, and the coaxing of her subconscious. Behaving like fire would in a place devoid of logic. Through this veil were forms, not engulfed by the flames, but something else. Beyond them, beyond her grasp. They were myriad and indistinct, shifting and murmuring over the crackling of the flames themselves. It was the recognition of this that things seemed to focus down to a point, to a form. It shifted and moved towards her, shaking away whatever un-definition it had. Calcifying, and shedding the rigidity as it approached the fire and pressed against it. He, and she knew it was a he before the shape was so distinct, pushed through, charring, searing as he did, until before her he stood. Imperious and grotesque, like a nightmare from childhood. The armored and antlered countenance rose before her, shuddering as the gaps of the armor revealed a roiling, shuddering thing. Then he exhaled, and the soot and char fell away, carried away on his voice booming and soaring like a church's prized organ. "Child of Angel's Mound. Well met. This one is here at the behest of others, of Lords and Ladies impressed with what you are. What you have been. What you might be." From under that antlered helm were eyes, human eyes, vibrant green. Earnest and honest, and this was not... a dream.

Just outside London Monday March 7, 2016 10:13 AM Gray clouds hung in the sky, typical of this time of year for England. Dee Farrington was paying little mind to the clouds as she guided her Aston Martin down the busy streets, instead more focused on her destination and why she was going there. With her in the sports car was Erick Sloane, who, as Foreshadow, was her teammate on Vanguard. The two had been involved for close to two years now, starting slightly after they had met during the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics. From the moment they had met, there had been few secrets between them, in part due to Dee's telepathic abilities. Having learned each other's identities from the start had allowed them both to be more open than either had been in any prior relationships. But that still did not mean that there were not parts of Dee's life that she had kept from Erick. But now she had decided it was time to change that in regard to one of the things that meant the most to her in her life. It was something she had been thinking about for some time, and finally on Valentine's Day she had decided it was time. But a part of her still felt nervous and uncertain. She would be opening up a part of herself to Erick that she did not share with anyone.