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Downtown Emerald City, Oregon 10 am PDT, 1st August 2016 Emerald City the little city that could a glittering beacon of new opportunities as it embraced the future head on. And whilst it was no Freedom City it even had a few of it’s own superheroes a sign to many that a city had finally made it to the big leagues. But it wasn’t just the law abiding that were drawn to Emerald City, many criminal sorts were also drawn to the city. After all there were so few heroes and so many chances to make you fortune, why not try to make your fortune the easy way. Such was obviously the case for the guy sat in the car idling outside of Emerald Cities First National, he and his fellows were out to make a unofficial withdrawn. Unfortunately for him he’d attracted the attention of Emerald Cities heroes.

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."

Adjusting to the sights and sounds of Freedom was talking some considerable adjustment, let alone the various changes that had happened over the last fifty-odd years. There was a long list of technology and changes that she'd not yet mastered, from the computer to figuring out Freedom City's mass transit but the television she'd at least got the basic hang of. She was in the middle of expressing her dismay at the television when she had been rousted for something like practice - or maybe just walkies. Leilani wasn't entirely certain, and sometimes the latter could prove taxing enough to her minimal control. "But... someone just shot J.R.!" It wasn't so much a protest as commentary to the message alert letting her know that one of the Freedom League was there for training time. Fortunately, training was interesting enough take her mind off of Dynasty at least for a little while as the one upside to her rather unfortunate set of meta-abilities came with an ability to glide - at least when she focused enough to do so. This section of the waterfront was either uninhabited enough - or inhabited by those willing to look the other way when a girl went surfing through the sky as if she were riding a board made of fire. Technically, she was gliding on superheated air currents but it felt enough like the sport she loved that the movements tracked well enough to it and Frost's ability to detect heat waves let him know well in advance when she was losing control so it was no surprise when her laugh turned into a yelp and she plummeted out of the sky like a rock. Really, like a literal rock as her transformation remained tied to her flight or fight responses and when she hit the waves, the hiss of water turning to steam was audible as she sank quickly to the bottom. The heat trail of her walking towards the surface was clear from the broil of boiling sea water above her head as she slogged towards the docks, specifically the shore underneath them. Fortunately, Leilani didn't need to breathe when she was made of rock and lava, so there was no real concern of drowning in the time it took her to walk up the bottom of the sea floor and hopefully the sight of a lava monster emerging from the waters of the Atlantic only frightened a few drunks lingering outside the steps of the nearby and largely empty bar.

Cassandra woke up to the light streaming in past the plastic sheeting. It didn't make for a very good window, and was an even worse door, but it was free. She changed into her spare tanktop and pants, pushed the sheeting aside, and stepped out of her makeshift dwelling. She took a moment to admire her new home. It was amazing what you could do with corrugated steel when you can bend it with your bare hands. The place wasn't much to look at but it was free. Well, almost free. She stretched as she took a walk around the scrapyard grounds. Metal cots made for stiff muscles and none of the available padding was something that she would be willing to sleep on. After going around the perimeter, she noted that the fence was intact and there weren't any big pieces of scrap missing that she could see. She unlocked the gate and pushed it open as a red pickup drove in. She smiled as a short man with coke bottle glasses hopped out of the driver's seat. "Good morning, Marco! Everything fine. I go to work!" Cassandra exclaimed cheerfully. The man pushed up his glasses and grunted something that sounded vaguely affirmative. Cassandra walked along the waterfront towards the shipping yard. Flying was faster, but this was her favorite time of day and she was in no hurry. She enjoyed the sights and sometimes even the smells of the docks waking up. Cassandra had lived next to the water for as long as she could remember and found that she always missed it whenever she went too far away. She walked up to the small office space cut out of a warehouse with a red and green sign. She reached into the clear plastic organizer and found a small stack of papers with drawings and numbers on it. Reading English was still beyond her but she could match the numbers on the sheet to shipping containers, and the drawings showed her where to move them. She waved to the group of warehouse workers who were lighting up their first cigarette before work and approached the wall of stacked shipping containers nearby. She matched the symbols on the paper to the white stenciled ones on the paper, then referenced it to the drawings. Once she memorized the route, she tucked the papers away and focused on strengthening her muscles. Cassandra relished in the feeling of strength, then slowly rose above the ground. The familiar red-orange flare sprang up around her as she freed herself from gravity's hold. Cassandra grabbed the container and slowly guided it to its allocated space. She checked her papers and moved on to the next container on the list. Several hours later she dropped the papers back at the office and collected a small amount of cash. Cassandra pocketed the bills and walked inland off the docks. She navigated the nearby alleys until she found a dimly lit building with neon signs in the windows. She walked past the heavily reinforced door and sat down at the bar. "Hello, Cassie. Hungry?" an elder woman asked with a kind smile. "Always, Josie."Cassandra replied. "It's been slow day, shouldn't be too long." Josie said as she patted Cassandra's hands, then trundled off to the kitchen. Cassandra turned on her stool to face the bar while she waited. Josie's was quiet at the moment, but shift change was still a few hours away. The place was always busy, but much quieter of late. Josie attributed that to Cassandra putting a 250 pound stevedore who couldn't keep his hands to himself through her door. While Cassandra fretted over how to pay for the damage, Josie decided to pay her in food and booze to spend time at her place. The number of fights immediately plummeted and Josie considered that worth the price of a new door. Cassandra settled in to what she hoped would be a quiet night.

GM April 10th, 2016, 2.32PM The Vault Of all the sounds least expected at the door of a secret lair holding a plethora of powerful mystic artifacts and housing a champion of order and justice, the sound of a firm series of knocks and the words "Mr. Templar! I'd like to talk to you on behalf of the IRS!" in a young woman's voice were pretty high up there. Outside, IRS agent Violet Amethyst Khasani Sefir-Hull felt the full awkwardness and surreality of her position, fiddling with her dark suit and briefcase and occasionally squinting irritably through her curly snowy bangs at the blazing, cheerful sky. It had been an exhausting walk, but sitting down or even leaning were out of the question. These super-types could smell fear, and any sign of weakness might jeopardize her whole mission. So she squared her padded shoulders, wished for the tenth time that day she wasn't so tall, gangly and obviously, painfully green-looking, and set her her narrow purple face in an expression that she hoped looked very important and casually businesslike. Of course, the fact that this whole transformation happened on-camera slightly ruined its intended effect.

July 30th, 2016 ASTRO Labs, Freedom City Lunchtime Downtown Freedom City was busy every single day. No matter what else was going on, the streets were crowded with pedestrians and cars, the weekend just meant the people were of a different flavor. The soaring towers of ASTRO Labs looked down on. Happy families and trendy teenagers thronged the streets, moving from place to place and interspersed with groups of tourists eager to experience the City of Heroes. A large group of elderly Asians with cameras around their necks lined up in front of the skyscraper, a young woman in a red pantsuit in their lead. The woman held a folded map in the air and started talking. "This is the headquarters of ASTRO Labs," she said, her voice projecting above the noise of traffic. "A world leader in scientific R&D, ASTRO Labs is proud to help Freedom City's hero population whenever a mystery is in their path!" Near the back of the group, a man in a trenchcoat lurked underneath a young tree. He chuckled when he heard to guide's pithy summation. Pretty soon ASTRO Labs was going to feel the burn from helping so many heroes.

GM Friday Mid Afternoon, June 3rd Starbase Coffee Southside A blend of pleasant coffee aroma swirled in the air. It was hot outside, and a pervasive kind of dustiness filled the air, a precipitation of pollution and sweat. Nobody was feeling very energetic, despite the caffeine. And at this time of afternoon it was never that busy. And today it seemed positively quiet. A trickle of the tired, a line of lethargic. Jack Longwheel ordered his coffee. It was full of cream and milk, and Jack Longwheel did not mind. He had given up trying to control his ever expanding waistline years ago. Jack Longwheel was a hack. He covered gossip and covered corruption. Neither of these topics had earned him many friends. It had earned him money, and a lot of fines. Most recently, he had been nearly broken by publishing accusations on Neutron Industries unclean energy. Accusations that were, all agreed, probably true, but unproven. He was a regular, Jack. A cynical man in his fifties who knew too much but like a dog with a red rag, couldn't quite let go. He knew "Buffy" stein. Every friday, like clockwork, about this hour. "The regular, ma'am. And a one way ticket to Hell on the side please..." he sighed. "God the things I hear...." he mumbled under his breath. "I'd Jack your Job in and sail to Hawaii, if I was you. Don't want to be stuck in Freedom City this weekend!" he said. He wiped his brow. Rotund as he was, Jack Longwheel did not normal have cold anxious sweat. He did today.

GM July 5th, Tuesday, 3.45PM, 2016 4027 Tower St., Emerald City, WA, USA Downtown on the Emerald City riverfront was like being in another world. Voices and faces from dozens of other countries filled the streets, the sharp sea breeze lent a salty tang to the smells of streetside vendors selling the cuisine from dozens more and the sleek, pristine skyscrapers rearing above bore the richest names on Earth in at least ten languages. In particular was the soaring crystal-green Emerald Tower, the corporate center of world-famous MarsTech, one of the several new corporations in the super-technology industry and already a household name. The Tower was the hub for its own micro-universe, the eye of a financial, legal and technological hurricane, a block in each cardinal direction devoted to its needs and those of its sky-dwelling inhabitants. Public involvement with superhumans was considered passé, a kind of cheating, so there was little surprise when Prof. Erasmus Bolt was contacted about one of his newest inventions and invited to a meeting with the head of MarsTech, the flamboyant and vibrant plutocract Maximilian Mars. Although he has made a name for himself as someone with the city's best interests at heart, nobody doubts that Mars is chiefly concerned with Number One. For whatever reason, Erasmus had not yet entered the Tower. "Bolt!" A harsh, cold voice hissed from behind him, which turned out to hail from a very dour-looking man cloistered in a pitch-black limosuine, a rarity in downtown Emerald which prides itself on its mass-transit system. The man glared out at Bolt, then up at the Emerald Tower "Come to see Mars, hn? When you're done, come see me. I'm Kessler, Arwin Kessler, KessKorp. Unlike Mars, I won't lie to you. My card." Thrusting his lean hand out with a well-produced rectangle of laminated plastic pinched between thumb and forefinger, Kessler waited with an air of impatience for Bolt to take it.

North Bay Yacht Club April 23rd, 2016 9am, Sunny, 59 degrees GM Torpedo Lass organized some bags on the rented out yacht the nautical superheroine had loaded on. She had everything planned out for the day outing, right down to where to do the water sampling the science teacher that had sponsored the trip along with Torpedo Lass herself who used some reward money she picked up on a couple small patrols prior to cover insurance for the trip. It would be a two day trip, with the duo returning home sometime in the afternoon. She also recommended to dress warmly, although she also knew Casey's powers made her more than able to handle the cold. She smiled as she sat on one of the well stuffed piles of bags. Being super-strong had it's perks. She was both stevedore, and sailor both. She adjusted the suit that was her costume, and waited for her young charge for the next two days to arrive.

GM Wednesday The 20th of April, 2016 3:34 PM Southern Parkside It’s an average day, the sky is nice but a few clouds are starting to show themselves, life in Freedom City is progressing as usual. Then, a message far too familiar to those living here flares up on the TV Screens all across the city: “We interrupt this broadcast for urgent information” Just a few seconds later, a middle aged woman, holding a microphone shows up on the screen. She is clearly standing on a roof, a few others can be seen behind her. “This is Joanna Olubunmi, reporting live for Channel 5 and all others tuning in. Please avoid the area around Love Street, Parkside at any cost. If anyhow possible, this extends to all of Southern Parkside as well as bordering areas. It appears there are Dinosaurs rampaging through the street. Skeletal ones. The police have secured the perimeter, and it appears the street has been for the most part evacuated. Various heroes have also been stopped at the scene, and have already engaged the hordes of dinosaurs. “ In the meantime, a pillar of dark smoke rises behind the reporter, then quickly dissipates. Throughout the announcement some unnatural screeching, like the grinding of hard materials, can also be heard. Once Ms. Olubunmi has finished talking, the camera cuts to the view of the street. Cars are overturned, newspaper boxes and fire hydrants broken. Most windows of the street-level stores located here have been smashed in, and there even are cracks in the concrete in some places. Obviously striking out most are the skeletons running around the area, attacking objects seemingly at random. There are about two dozen skeletons resembling Velociraptors, slightly smaller than average humans. They are all grouped up in packs of 5, each pack featuring one bigger, bulkier raptor, quite clearly a leader of some sort. There are also lots of bones, quite clearly belonging to other Raptors, scattered around the area, having been taken out by the heroes on scene beforehand. Standing taller than the raptors are three bulky skeletons, standing slightly higher than a human, and about 10 ft. in length. Standing on all four, they have a thick layer of bone on their back, and a tail that a looks more like a boulder than a bone – Ankylosaurs, as anybody that liked dinosaurs in their childhood could easily tell. They were ramming into cars and striking the concrete with their bulky tails, one of them had even started smashing into a wall, leaving some cracks in there.

Tuesday July 12th 2016 The Streets at Midtown Mostly sunny, 84F The sun shone down on the crowds taking advantage of the mild summer day to explore the pedestrian byways of the upscale 'Streets of Midtown' and it's fine bistros and boutiques. While 'The Streets' were certainly over budget for Leilani they did offer the benefit of being much more open and less crowded than the more populist Millennium Mall, and Kimber knew just the person to bring along to assuage any budgetary concerns. As the troupe made their way from one shop to the next they could enjoy the dappling of the sun along the tree lined walks, the fragrance of floral vines on the decorative arbors spaced along the brick paths. The noise of the city was dulled by the architecture and landscaping giving the shops a peaceful suburban feel in the middle of hte towering skyscrapers and busy streets outside the plazas and paths. The otherwise Idyllic environs made the faint but persistent buzz almost felt more than heard all the more unsettling as it slowly came to the attention of our heroines.

Silberman's Books. Monday, April 25th, 2016. 9:56 am. Back in January, Lynn Epstein offered Samuel Steiner, a stage magician, ex-convict and would-be crimefighter, what amounted to his 'dream job': the opportunity to catalogue and itemize the collection of his hero Ira Silberman, formerly known as the Amazing Al-Kazar. To say that he couldn't wait to start his first day would be the understatement of the century. Yet wait he did; in February, the departure of her long-suffering assistant manager Kiki Knox came as a shock, and Lynn sent him an apologetic letter explaining that she wanted to bring her new AM up to speed and get everyone settled into a new routine before adding any additional staff. That the letter contained a check for eight hundred dollars did something to soften the blow. Then March came, and another apologetic letter arrived, with the same-sized check and a promise of work in April. Now April was almost over, and Sam feared his amazing opportunity had gone up in smoke, but then a third letter arrived on Friday, as apologetic as before, but now letting him know that he would finally be able to start that Monday, bright and early at 10 am. And yay, another check! - - - "Does he get an apron?" Lynn briefly looked up from her desk, where she was typing up a last minute email; her assistant manager and now partner in all things Gretchen McDaniels was limply holding up a brown standard-issue Silberman's apron, a bored expression on her face. "No, he does not get an apron; he will be an apron-less freak." "If I have wear one, he should, too. We should all be equal partners in discomfort and embarrassment." "Technically, he's not an employee of the store; he's an independent contractor. Plus he'd look really stupid with that thing over his coat and tails, doncha think?" Gretch looked over her shoulder back towards the sales floor and shook her head. "You really think he wears that all the time?" "Yep! Sleeps in it, showers in it, makes sweet, sweet love in it..." "Eww. Thanks for that disturbing visual." Lynn beamed cheerfully. "You're welcome! Now go ahead and open up while I finish typing this." "Yes, O master." Hunching forward and dragging her foot, Gretch lurched towards the front door like a hunchbacked assistant; behind the bar, Lance Bettendorfer, barista extraordinaire, cocked an eyebrow at her performance. "Everything alright there, Gretch?" "Breaking in some new boots," she deadpaned. Once she got to the door, she flung it open dramatically, still in Igor mode. "Enter, at your own risk!" She almost managed an expression there.

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.

Friday February 19, 2016 Riverside, Freedom City The Black Box "Can't believe I let you drag me along to this thing," Sam grumbled. "I should be getting overtime for this." It wasn't as though Sam had never gone out to a nightclub for a night of alcohol and bad music before. She'd been a teenager. She'd snuck out to party with her quote-unquote friends at least...hell, more times than she could clearly remember. The alcohol probably had sometime to do with that. But she was an adult now, with real responsibilities, and alcohol now affected her no more than orange juice did. She'd generally found that bad music was even worse when you had to listen to it sober. Now when she looked around at her surroundings, at the pulsing lights, the gyrating dancers, the deafening noise, all she saw was a bunch of drunken college students sexing each other up and acting like hormonal idiots. Christ, when did I get so old. She leaned over to shout in Gretchen's ear, the only way to make herself heard above the din. "Are we sure this isn't a prank? Some Internet jackass just thought it would be a kick to post on your site about a bunch people disappearing from this 'Black Box' club, and watch us waste our time?" She took a sip of her fruit juice, hardly tasting it due to her irritation. "You'd think that if people really were getting snatched from here, the cops would have noticed by now." Assuming the cops aren't a gaggle of incompetent glorified security guards, which, since I'm being all positive-outlook these days, they aren't. "I wouldn't mind getting out of here before the band comes on and blows my eardrums out." A tall, muscular man in a tight T-shirt sauntered cockily up and leaned against the bar next to Sam, glancing her up and down in a none-too-subtle fashion. Without so much as looking, Sam dissuaded him with a raised middle finger before he could even open his mouth. Taking the hint, he pushed away from the bar and sauntered cockily away back the way he'd come. Sam continued as though nothing had happened. "You'd think they could at least include a little more info. For chrissakes, at least the names of whoever's missing. 'People disappearing from Black Box, watch out for the band' isn't a whole lot to go on."

Fourth of March, 2016, The Gateway, Goodman Building, Freedom City On its dais in the middle of the stark, open room, the circular Gate pulsed and rippled from the distortion of energy from an open channel to another world. For once, the Gateway was crowded, both with people and luggage, crates and moving equipment, Tesla and Maximus at their control stations the only people with much room to maneuver. Chase and Victoria were mingling with the swell of twenty-odd chatting, nervous scientists wearing A.S.T.R.O. Labs insignia on their jackets and hats, while Cosmo was darting about the room in excitement. The Moon Monkey had to get his hands on anything and everything new or strange, which with a crowd of strangers really was anything. His gleeful shrieking and intrusively curious hands sometimes got him a stern psychic warning, and by now he was much less hyperactive than a quarter of an hour ago. After the media circus outside, it was a pleasant and calming change of pace. The news that the famously secretive Atom Family and endlessly innovative Lab were making a joint ventire into a mysterious new universe had hardly been enough for the news agents and shouting reporters, but the fact that three superheroes were joining them, along with Freedom Cross biologist Tristan Delacroix and journalist Daphne Celeste, had packed the street outside the Goodman Building as fans and well-wishers screamed over each other to their idols. More cynical heads had shouted accusingly that the list of supers was blatantly calculated for news-worthiness rather than "true" value to the expedition. Where, for example, was Daedalus? Dragonfly? Miss Americana or any of the other technically-able or routine dimensional travelers? That had been the point. "People are easily frightened by the unknown, by choosing you" Chase had gestured simply to Terrifica, Velocity and Valerie Cain "we disassociate this expedition with the ideas people have that everywhere we go, there are our enemies." The Gateway glared with red light. It would soon be ready for passage into the Infraverse. For the moment, there was little to do.

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'

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.

Mike closed the file he'd been sent as the bus came to a stop at the base of the drive leading up to the prestigious Claremont Academy. He smiled and thanked the bus driver wishing her a good day before stepping off the final step and looking up at the school. When it had come time to get teaching assistant credits his former school seemed a natural choice. Now it seemed full of memories, most good granted but somehow more distant than he'd expected. As he crossed through the gates it was clear to him it was not the same or perhaps it was he who had changed. There were more than years now between him and this place, and given his assigned duty for the day that was probably for the best. After a brief stop by the administrative office to get the visitor badge that so rarely was actually worn by the school's rare visitors Mike awaited his assigned student in the large foyer of the Cooke wing his fingertips brushing the hem of the bronzed statue of Matthias as he had before many tests in his tenure here. Looking toward Marquez's office he sat and awaited the student within to finish her session taking care not to inadvertently listen in. When Robin emerged he rose and waved to the good doctor extending a hand, "You must be Ms. Chevalier." he greeted gently, "I'm Mike, Mike Harris." He glanced to Marquez to double check the counselor had informed her of their impending meeting then back to Robin with a polite smile.

Unit 47-42 Coalition Victory Station, Kestevan 79 Almost every place where starfaring races gathered you’d find a bar like this tucked away where only those in the know would find it. Not the brawl ridden bars where crew who’s spent day or weeks in space could go to let off a little steam but somewhere where those who were a little different could find some company, if not there own species than someone who could understand. Bipedal Carbon based sapients may be the norm, and just as many theories why they did, but others sentients were out there and many liked to gather to share gossip and find company with a drink of something equivalent to alcohol, and for that many went to places like 47-42. Tucked away in the lower depths of the station the bar was a pretty non descript place,easy to miss if you didn’t know of it’s existence, and almost as plain on the inside consisting of just reconfigurable benches and chairs around rather basic holo tables. The bar with similarly rather basic the only bartender being a retired medical droid, 4T-RN, who could tell which drink each customers could safely drink without harming themselves. The only entertainment was a band who only seemed to know one song, but they played it with some gusto. The place was almost totally unknown to the dominant species of the station, not that the few that knew of the place was unwelcome.

306582.6 Galactic Time, mid-evening Lor Republic core space, G'Nüzz system, G'Nüzz II, Ahri-Bodhi Megaplex The Black Hole would have looked pretty good to the average Terrestrian, with its gleaming silver furnishings, high ceiling, low volume of music and talk, generously-stocked bar, energetic staff, sections with varied lighting and entire sealed compartments for differently-atmosphered patrons. To the Voidrunners it looked like an utter dump. The bar's liquids were a subtly unhealthy shade(its gases and solids were no better), the low volume was on account of the crowd of various beings carrying out business of various legalities. The staff had the telltale signs of being blissed out of their minds and likely on their third consecutive all-diurnal shift. But the hygenic needs of hundreds of varying life-forms meant that even the worst places had a spotless santitation record. Anyone trying to buy their way to one was tragically never seen again. Universal health care was a deserved point of pride in the Republic, but nobody wanted to take any chances. However, the Voidrunners were here specifically to take a chance. Which did not include not taking a secluded booth. "...So, that's the story. Near as I can tell, it's here, got it?" Her tail lashing restlessly behind her, Loma Slife pointed to the lonely cluster at the fringe of civilized space. Even in the generous dimensions of the bar, the rogue Chorna had to stoop a little, but was no less a looming, menacing sight. With her bulging muscles and vicious spines and thick hide, it was easy to forget that she needed weapons at all, let alone that she could summon them to her side with a thought. Slumping back into the seat and propping up her legs on the foursome's table, her feet resting on the next one, the fearsome bounty hunter inspected her massive hands "This thing, officials call it the "Visitor", far as I know it's not got much punch. Just gets around everything, can hide anywhere, and hitting it is a s*n' **k and a half. So I say we team up, go in, flush the thing out and I help bag it, get the picture?" Swiping Ruby's mug, Loma downed half of it, paused, and spat its contents on the floor. Grimacing, the bounty hunter went on "Since this thing is from the Swarm, no non-mentato but me's ever made a dent in that nano-cloud 'o mystery, and everyone ELSE is after it too, I think it's only fair I get half of the ः120 billion credit reward, while you Voidies split the sixty billion amongst yourselves. Dunno what bills you got, but that should pay 'em off pretty nicely, know what I'm sayin'?" Her hands busy supporting her crested head, her spiny tail reached out to each of the Voidrunners in turn.

Spring 2016 Greenbank Warehouse District The Gaia's Liberation Front meeting was going well - the activists inside were ready to move to direct action against the corporate oppressors of the planet. All was going well, Pierre thought as he stepped out into the alley to light a cigarette. Just as his match flared to life; a hatchet appeared at his throat. "Hey, jackass," Woodsman whispered in his ear, glad that for once he'd found a criminal shorter and slighter than he was. "You say a word and you're gonna be crapping that match out your ears!" Dammit, Riley thought, embarrassed, why is it so hard when I know people are watching!? "Yeah, you heard me. Now talk. Where'd you put the goddamned dynamite? Or do I have to give you a shave first?"

June 2016 Lincoln Riley was on his best behavior - which meant he was sitting out in plain sight in the middle of the park, dressed in a baggy plaid shirt and jean, the only concession to his costumed identity the duffel bag at his feet that held bow, hatchet, poncho, and other Woodsman gear. He'd expected to be the subject of the usual double-takes and angry glares that he associated with walking on the streets of Earth-Prime on the way here, but so far no one had done more than look his way twice on his way from Claremont to here. All the muscles he'd put in his wiry arms, and the tone his voice had dropped in the past year, had certainly paid off. He rather liked it. He had never actually been in Lincoln before - like most of south Freedom, it wasn't safe ground for Woodsmen except in daylight and large numbers. The trainee he'd been had been sent to safer ground in north Freedom, though even that was more a matter of degree...thoughts of his homeworld made him tense, enough to slide off the bench and began to pace it, back and forth and back and forth. This was a stupid idea.

Monday, July 11th 2016 AEGIS Headquarters, City Center, Freedom City 8:21 AM A Monday morning. Nobody likes Monday mornings. Not even the men and women at AEGIS. No matter how much they liked their job, they also liked sleeping, and Monday mornings generally didn’t allow for the latter, even more so when employed by the American Elite Government Intervention Service. At least, that was usually the case. It did not always apply, especially for the people working in the less public Headquarters, down below Federal Building. Here, many people were working tirelessly, shifts upon shifts, 24 hours, 7 days a week. A few hours ago Field Agent Yves Zermeño had gotten a call by the agency. Early, on a Monday morning. That usually meant something urgent. While the caller had refused to talk about details on the phone, he had sounded rather calm. Which already set off some alarms. AEGIS would not call at 5 AM on a Monday if the matter was something that had time. Yves had just arrived on the floor she had been summoned too. She’d been here a few minutes too early, her handler for the mission would only arrive in a few minutes.

Leilani sat crosslegged in the passenger's seat, somewhat impatient with all the traffic clogging the streets of Freedom City. "How does anyone get anywhere in this?" She protested, waving her hands towards what seemed like an endless sea of cars in front of them. Although her frustration was palpable and she wiggled one knee until they could finally park, the temperature didn't even tick up a notch. Despite her self doubt, she really was mastering her strange abilities. Still, as soon as they had come to something that could be called a stop, Leilani was out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of the DuTemps building. She tipped her head back to stare up and up - completely unabashed in her moment of tourism. "Is that a real castle?" She asked Dimitri, even though with all the ambient noise, she'd probably not be able to hear him until he was much closer. "Why is there a castle?"