Search the Community

Robin wasn't exactly a difficult roommate to have been paired with. Her side of the room was largely devoid of any sign of her presence when she wasn't there. It was only recently that she'd started to keep her extra pair of jeans and a few worn-thin t-shirts folded up in her dresser. Everything else tended to remain inside the faded black backpack that was her constant companion. Her bed had the spare sheets and blanket that Claremont provided without any additional touches from home like most of the other student's rooms held. For her part, Robin tried to keep her midnight wanderings too a minimum but even the rise and fall of a roommate's breathing did little to cut the silence that the dorm room in Bayview seemed filled with to one who was used to dozing on rooftops in the middle of the Fens. This time, when bad dreams started Robin awake, she woke with a soft intake of sudden breath, rolling out of bed to land in a wary crouch on the floor. It always took her a moment to re-orient. A few weeks had not been yet enough time to grow used to waking up some place safe. Robin rose to her feet in the dark. She was largely dressed - Robin generally went to bed in her clothes. She'd only recently started taking off her sneakers and she fumbled for them in the dark to slip them over her socks before reaching for her jacket. The belt clanked softly as she pulled it from the bedpost it hung off of. Clearly she wasn't getting any more sleep tonight and Robin didn't want to wake up her roommate.

Date: September 19, 2015 Taylor hadn't exactly given Elis all that much choice really. Oh, she'd promised that it was a nice, normal meeting with nice, normal people who just happened to have super powers. Other than that it was just a barbecue with friends who happened to be super parents, at least that was what she'd conveyed on the phone. In Taylor's defense, she really did feel that it was important for the relatively new super hero to have something like a support network. She certainly would have appreciated having had more of a network when she'd first started. Also, her definition for 'normal' might have gotten steadily skewed over the years. After all, Stesha was the most normal person that Taylor still knew - she just happened to be a goddess running her own nature planet preserve these days. Taylor's lack of sympathy for any attempts to cry off might have also been in part in her expectation that it took some strong arming to get people to attend parties. Jack certainly wasn't ecstatic about Taylor's 'we're all going as a family to this barbecue on Stesha's planet before dark hits. No, really. It's important to me' explanation for why everyone was being rousted on a Saturday, side dish in tow. With a soft 'pop' of displaced air, Taylor showed up in Ellis' living room. Huang had his after school job to keep him busy and Taylor didn't think that he'd enjoy a barbecue with mostly adults and the under ten crowd in attendance. Jack and JJ had already been dropped off with Jack entrusted with delivering the side dishes of potato salad and a cooler full of steaks for the barbecue. That she showed up inside the house rather than on the porch was in difference to Ellis secret identity but he might not see it that way. Except for the sudden appearance, Taylor looked normal enough - at least she wasn't in costume. With her hair pulled up in a bun and in a light shirt and denim shorts she could have been any fresh-faced college student. Well, except for the fact that she was still translucent.

Location: Claremont currently, later ???? Date: 9/21/15 In addition to the school's regular curriculum of classes taught by the stable of professors, there were the occasional guest lectures that were, perhaps, more akin to a college than a traditional high school. Of course, no one had ever accused Claremont of being a traditional school ever. Typically, from what the upperclassmen said, the guest lectures were for the one-off classes that the headmistress could rope active heroes into 'giving back' to the school. They were typically optional, although the staff wasn't above exerting pressure when they felt the topic was necessary for one of their students in particular. The blurb for this one had read: An afternoon lecture in magic and the greater worlds beyond. Most people will never end up trapped in an entirely different dimension but it happens to super heroes far more often than one might think. For those who signed up, they had a pass on their typical afternoon classes to attend the guest lecture right after lunch. School gossip whispered that the elusive Eldritch might have been tapped to make a rare appearance. As the students headed towards it, post lunch, it was in a small classroom located far from most of the currently active classrooms. Likely, because, magic was more of an art than a science and the headmistress was hoping any incidents would be contained in a more manageable locale. Encouraging! The room itself was small, currently empty, with a loosely arrayed ring of desks in no particular arrangement. The lights were off when the first student arrived.

The Theater District Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday October 31, 2015, 7:30 PM local time The sun had set over Freedom City, adding a slight chill to the already cool night air. But despite the cool night and clouds overhead, there was a festive atmosphere over much of the city as Halloween arrived. Perhaps no part of the city was that more evident than the five city blocks of Broadway between 60th St. and the Beaudrie Opera House, as the 20th annual Hunted Block Party took over the section of the Theater District. Over the annual Halloween festival’s life, the event had grown from only a few blocks to the much larger event it now was, a "fair, games and scares" trick-or-treat extravaganza. As had been the case since the event had started, Mr. Dirksen had made the bottom floor of his warehouse on the corner of 60th St. into a massive haunted house. There were dozens of shops, booths, vendors, and entertainers stretched along the five blocks of Broadway, with crowds of hundreds of costumed children and their families making their way between them.

GM 1st September Evening time, with a red sun in the horizon... The Hanover Institute of Technology was well guarded at night, but it was hardly a military complex. Five men, in balaclavas and with all the usual tools of the trade, were breaking in. Wire cutters first, then lock picks. They looked professional, or at least a cut above a tweaking crack addict desperate for some quick bucks. However, they were notable for having good equipment. Excellent equipment, in fact. Power wire cutters, electronically controlled lock picks, remote controlled grenades, and perhaps most surprising, what looked like sci-fi blaster pistols for defence. The Van they had come in was large, black, and silent, looking equally cutting edge, with filed off number plates and a number of antenna and dishes, subtle but present, on the roof...

October 18, 2015 Summerhill Street Farmer's Market Only a two block stroll from the Espadas School, every Sunday farmers from the area surrounding the city along with more local bakers, brewers and others set up stalls to sells their wares along either side of the winding path that could somewhat generously be characterized as a park. The fountain in the center of the market hadn't had working water in years but the trees provided pleasant shade and the benches were kept in good condition. The main draw was in-season produce but there were homemade jams and preserves for sale alongside fresh breads, beeswax candles next to knitwear in time for the cooling weather. The bustling path was full of West Enders looking for bargains and loud with the sounds of haggling. "I want to grab some apples, corn and sweet potatoes for sure," Erik was explaining as he led the way, having finally relented to the season and put on a light sweater under his wool-lined jacket. With a pair of reusable shopping bags stuffed unceremoniously stuff into his jacket's pockets he was already craning his neck to see what was on sale. "Other than that, what were you thinking?" After another playful conversation about whether or not Talya could actually manage an uneventful grocery shopping trip he'd agreed to let her take the lead in gathering what they needed for dinner that evening. It had quickly become clear from the way he animatedly talked up the market that he was taking this as an opportunity to show the blonde Englishwoman around the neighbourhood where he'd been born and raised as much as anything else.

October 2015 Riley sat alone under the tree, methodically field-stripping his crossbow, his physics textbooks tucked away in the thick grass at his feet. So Headmaster Summers, after a serious conversation with him and promises of a serious conversation with his instructors, had set up a meeting with a famous superheroine. He'd heard of Erin White, of course, and the students of Young Freedom who'd helped save the world so many times. He didn't really care about most of them, half of whose names he didn't even know, but Erin White was someone whose name he knew very well. Alone in isolation in the Goodman Building, Riley ran his hands across the words carved into the bathroom wall. My name is Erin. He'd heard plenty about the dimensional refugee, or at least enough to know he wanted to learn more. But she's prolly gonna talk with me about not shooting anyone in the damn head, he decided gruffly. Like I haven't heard enough of that already. No one looked his way as he held his impervium bolthead up to the sunlight - something which didn't surprise him a bit after that damn accidental video had gotten around. Everybody knew the story. Bolt in hand, he judged the bolt by the way it reflected the light, the glow showing how unmarred the surface of the bolt was. Impervium could be a tricky thing, especially when you were working with scraps.

September 5, 2015 9PM (local time) (3PM Freedom City time) Dahab, Egypt Nina floated in the dark waters of the Red Sea, only her bare shoulders visible beneath the surface, as she looked up at Mark. Her voice was dark, too, and liquid like the sea that was her home, and the waves churned and thrashed around her with unnatural energies. "I will pull you down beneath the waves, Mark Lucas, and keep you prisoner in the depths of the sea to use for my own wicked ends. Come to me, and know my true power." Mark looked down over the side of their rented skiff and was in love. "That is really, really, hot, babe," he told her with sincere pleasure. Lying on his stomach, he reached down and took Nina's hand. In the darkness of the late night, he didn't worry about his admittedly hilariously fair skin burning - not that he'd have worried that much anyway. "But what if I break loose from your watery chains and subdue you, my tempestuous princess? What are you going to do if I-" The beeping of his alarm interrupted their conversation; and right when they were about to get to the part where they didn't talk, anyway. Muttering a curse, Mark rolled over and found his UNISON communicator underneath the black polo and slacks he'd been wearing as a Sinai Force civilian observer just a few hours earlier. He held up the text communicator, read the short message, and cursed with enough force that Nina slid right out of the water and onto the small boat with him. Mark looked over at her, the faint green glow from the comm casting strange shadows on his bare, sculpted chest. "Horus is attacking Egypt," he said, horror and disbelief mixed in equal measure in his tone. "What!?" Nina exclaimed in reply. - With the ongoing situation in Washington, Egypt barely merited a mention on the late-night news. "And in breaking news, superheroes working for the United Nations are today engaged in a battle with someone who claims to be the reincarnation of Horus, the Egyptian solar deity who served as a member of the Freedom League in the 1960s and 1970s." A grainy cellphone-shot video, with the tag "St. Catherine's, Egypt," depicted a conflict that pitted a woman in blue and white and a man in gold and blue against...against what certainly looked like the Avenger reborn, a darkened town illuminated by the glowing ankh in his left hand before a brilliant glare blinded the phone's camera. "Sources say Horus appears to be directing his rage towards St. Catherine's Monastery, the oldest religious organization in the nation. Both Egyptian and Israeli metahumans have taken up defensive positions outside the peninsula, with their respective governments promising to allow the United Nations to resolve this situation."

Daedalus Building, Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City Monday 1st June 6:00 am At this time of the year most technology lab’s would be completely silent and quiet shut up as students set their mind on “more important” less scholarly subjects. But Claremont wasn’t you most typical school and various technological devices hummed away of flashed little light in the darkness. Though unusually no one else was working in the lab right now, either from a very early start or still there from the night before.

Pushkin’s Restaurant, West End, Freedom City Friday 3rd October 2015 5:30 pm The last dregs of Summer had began to peter out and the sky was overcast over Freedom City, whilst most of the Restaurants had chair set up outside few bothered to sit outside. A few stubborn souls were however “enjoying” the weather, being use to much worse this time of year. “I do not know why I miss this food at all, it’s nothing like the sweet food or Ayrag of home.” Klara spoke between mouthfuls of Shchi “Maybe because you love all food even my feeble attempt at cooking and I’m no Mary Berry.” Tracy still had a strong Lancaster accent even after all these years At first glance it looked like a, admittedly tall, daughter was taking her mother out for a meal. Tracy looked about twice Klara’s age, and was in fact even older than that. But if you watched closer you could see that there was something else there, from the little looks they gave each other to way they would softly touch each other hands. “You are beautiful tonight my darling and you grow even more so with every passing year.” “You a lying old bugger you know that Klara, but I’ll take the compliment as it was intended. Now the kid are left we need to have that talk you know, unlike you I’m not going to live forever.” “You know there are ways around that, people and places that grant eternal beauty and life.” “Seems to me that immortality more of a burden than a blessing, look at that bitter old man you use to work with in the People’s Heroes. I ain’t planning to end up like that, rather go now.” It was an old conversation that Klara wasn’t keen on having right now, she just wanted a nice quiet night out with her wife, so she subtly changed the subject. “I can’t tell if it’s from living among the Russians or the English's but when someone mention him I can’t help but assume the worst is about to happen...”

Seattle, Washington State, United States Another Earth, 2nd May 2010, 15:30 PST Whilst Riff hadn’t been on this alternative Earth long he had already had a sense of things being different, right from the start when he’d met Headmistress Jasmine Summers on his arrival to this worlds Claremont. It had meant to be a simple visit delivering an item between Head’s, instead Rift had been drafted into helping them deal with a problem. Within the hour he been coerced into journeying to Seattle, it wasn’t clear if this world had a version of his team instead he had been bundled quickly off of the campus with a young woman he’d never met before. The young Hispanic woman had introduced herself as Malena Simmons, or as she said with a little pride Patriota. She was dressed in a black sleeveless jumpsuit cut off at the knees, which showed off her athletic physique, unadorned apart from a large white Star across her chest. Over the top of that she wore a short white jacket only barely more practical that the pouches that were now out of fashion. As they waited for the transport to arrive in the city she played with a ArchePod apparently setting up a playlist for there mission.

July 11, 2015 Kimber finished etching the last rune into the surface of the ice with a telekinetically controlled chisel before floating a few meters into the air to survey her work critically. After the better part of two years of preparation and careful work she wasn't going to let the arcane ritual equivalent of a typo ruin everything now, especially now with so many of her friends on the way to help pull off her plan. Indira and Eve were already waiting on the bleachers on the other side of the plexiglass, the latter having been convinced to rent out the indoor ice rink for the day with only a minimum of pleading. Kimber had asked Tarva to head up to the announcer's booth so that she could double check the complex circles of inscribed sigils that made up the first step of the day's undertaking. Satisfied with the results, the poltergeist nodded and turned to her friends, hands on her hips. "Good to go! Just in time, too! Everybody should be getting here pretty soon!"

September 2015 Bereft of his crossbow, Riley sat in the infirmary waiting room, reading a technical manual. He'd already filled out his paperwork, showed his student ID, and made sure Nurse Joy knew that he was there and was patiently waiting for his next turn. At least in theory. When he wasn't in a blind with a bow in his hand, or waiting up a tree, Riley had never been very good at patience. So instead he buried himself in stories about the construction and care of wind power plants, all the while making the usual adjustments for whatever tools and other equipment would be missing back on his own Earth. Raymond couldn't keep running forever, he knew from lessons drilled into his head by his mother, and by the time he was an adult his community would need some other source of power to survive. He was going to make it back there. He was sure of it.

Claremont Academy 9/18/2015 (three days post Lets get it started), 10:30AM Sunny with light clouds If Huang had been raised in circumstances less bizarre the trek down to the boiler room adjacent janitorial office would have been downright creepy with the poor lighting and strange sounds in the distant subterranean halls echoing like something out of a horror movie. As it was however event the more familiar environs could not improve his mood much. Not only detention but detention wasted on menial tasks for the mundane staff of the not so mundane school. He arrived a few minutes later than he had been ordered too outside the door to Basil Faulks 'office' and paused with a smirk listening in for the mans famed odd mutterings, if there was truth to any of them they could after all be useful and if not they certainly sounded hilarious from the poor attempts at being scary the upperclassmen had made regarding the strange groundskeeper.

Hunter Manor was quiet that evening, stately as ever in the waning summer light, with the sort of dignity that belied its crimefighting secret identity. The peace was marred momentarily by a rush of black inkblots appearing from nowhere, swirling into a vortex, and then disappearing, leaving behind three people on the front porch. Erin smoothed her hair as the last dots disappeared, finally used to the weird method of transport after all these years. "Come on," she urged the others. "Not likely anybody's going to notice you here, but why take chances?" She opened the front door wide and walked in, automatically checking to make sure all was well. The doors opened onto a handsome foyer, slightly dusty, with the air of a place that was pretty well cared for, but could use a housekeeper once a week. "Hey Trevor, you home?" she called into the house. "Mark and Mike are here, Mike needs a place to hide out!"

October 2015 Riley was alone in the gym for now; just the way he liked it. He'd even changed for the occasion, down to the binder and green and brown costume that were the minimum level of clothes he was willing to be seen in while walking around the school. On the obstacle course near one side of the ample gym, he took a moment to wrap his hands before beginning his run. First came the low wall of padded foam, which he vaulted with contemptuous ease, then the elevated, irregularly placed blocks that were equally no obstacle to him as he went. He vaulted to the balancing bridge without so much as touching the matted gym floor and made his way along at a dead run, eyes open and ears wide as he went. This was easy - here he was in minimal clothing, with no gear. Later he'd do it the hard way; gather up his clothes and his bow from where he'd left them neatly folded in one corner of the gym, and do it that way, but for now he was content to warm up. He had a long evening ahead of him in here - if he was lucky.

Of course, she was sleeping. Sure, it was the middle of the day, heading towards afternoon, but contrary to the image Talya tended to put out into the public realm, even she had to rest sometimes. Thankfully, part of what she paid the unholy rent for was to have doormen that notified her when people were in route. So, when the phone rang, Talya reached out a hand to try and turn the alarm off only to eventually grope for the phone. She answered in a cool, crisp voice that sounded nothing like she was currently buried in layers of bedding and gave permission for guests to come up just as smoothly, despite the reality that she'd not yet gotten both eyes open. After she hung up, Talya laid there for a long moment before kicking the covers off. The woman who answered the door, however, showed none of the signs of having just rolled out of the bed. From her on point pin curls to the peep toed shoes, Talya was in full hostess mode when she walked to answer the door for a 'Dimitri and guest'. "Dimitri, honestly, I know it's hard to fathom but I really am a mere mortal that actually sleeps sometimes, and--" Talya broke off before she could get to the point where while the vodka really was very good, sometimes one needed to recover to stare delightedly at Set, "This is Set. The Set. Well, the latest incarnae. You Egyptians and your reincarnation. Come in. Do come in."

It had been over a week since the events that had ended Mikes brief life as a police officer and risked outing him to the world. The press firestorm had died to a bare simmer, the FCPD had promised that they had not begun utilizing empowered officers and that the Officer in question had been relieved of duty. Details of course were sparse. A leak released named hte officer Matthew Bright but the identity was an obvious pseudonym once the press dug into it. Just enough to scrape by a police screening but no life behind it. The mystery of it all was already dying in the hearts and minds of the populace. A few officers grumbled about wishing they had a few more like him, others about the subterfuge to get as far as he had. The official line stood and the mainstream media moved on. Oh there were fringe groups and devoted bloggers still hunting to be sure but widespread interest was fleeting, he was no Centurion dazzling the world with his appearance. Heroes revealed were not the shock they once were. Mike had hid out through the worst of it with Erin and Trevor at the Manor. Between the isolated and unlikely locale and manors defenses it wasn't hard to ensure he was able to retreat from it all. Even in that short time much had changed of course. Decisions had been made, changes, big ones. But there were things left undone, unsaid, if he was honest avoided. He floated weightless amid the quiet of the upper atmosphere somewhere between Low Orbit and the ceiling of winged flight. He'd been a fool for thinking it would end any different than it had, there had been plenty of prodding hints by his friends to that end but he'd be stalwart, stubborn really. The silence was peaceful, below there was the hustle and bustle of the cities and countryside, the noise and light of humanity going about their days. The silence and peace called to him in a way, it was easy here to get lost in that endless stillness. Here it was simple, but simple wasn't really what he sought. He knew that now. Down below there were people that deserved more from him. One in particular. He rolled and descended from his lonely perch a smile creeping to his lips as he broke the sound barrier and shot toward the surface. Freedom city grew bright like a beacon below him as he flew down the noise returned the rushing of wind the squeal of tires the shouts of passion and rage and sirens and cheers. The sounds of home. He alighted on the balcony of one of the high apartments in the Aeon building. One he knew well though always observed from a distance, he'd lied to himself for her safety and comfort. His footfalls were solid though he tried not to startle anyone as he peered through the window, and curtains to ensure she was alone. A small rap on the sliding door was accompanied by a delicate mental request, plaintive and apologetic, Alex?

August 8, 2015 10:00hrs Eastern Daylight Time Freedom City, Trainor Field. It was a warm but seasonal day for a coastal summer, partly cloudy, the rains of the early morning had subsided. Although the humidity sort of annoyed a certain blonde-haired pilot sitting on her trainer plane, or what she called her trainer. While not anything a superheroine could call a proper super-plane, it looked high performance none the less. She liked to fly it at airshows recently when not working the streets or her day job, and it made some good side money. After all, it's not every day you see an elf be a pilot. She straightened out her orange-colored flight-coveralls, she decided to ditch her usual super suit and flight pack, there needed to be some maintenance anyways. She zipped up her red flight vest, checking to make sure all her usual kit was in the proper pockets. If she could pull out a chart or a flare gun on reflex, that was helpful. She decided not to have the velcro patch of her tie to Archetech on this flight today... not company business. But she was also waiting for her trainee... She knew Grimalkin wanted to sharpen her skill in flying aircraft of this world. And she didn't mind it. She loved flying this aerobatic wonder, even if it was a little fiddly. Naomi starts making pre-flight checks waiting for Grimalkin to probably walk over at any moment. (Note that our aircraft is a stripped to the bone non-military version of this aircraft except for the ejection seats, and navy blue in color with the aircraft code: N42099-X on the tail.)

Between working at the dojo and... other things, Talya was clocking an awful lot of hours at the Espadas School of Self Defense and Swordsmanship(!). Today was no different, except that the dojo was currently empty of students - and most other bodies - save for the blonde currently standing in the main work out area with a decent size ring in hand as she examined the ceiling. Talya was almost always in the 'do what you want, beg forgiveness after the fact' mindset so this indecision was new. New and unpleasant! It was a good idea, Talya told herself firmly. One couldn't have students practice hanging upside down and doing things without having something sturdy to hang FROM. If Erik had only been her employer, Talya would already have had this installed in a joist and been ready to smile prettily when asked about the new addition to the workspace. It was even designed to fold up when not in use. It was a good plan. Muttering under herb breath, Talya resolutely turned towards the wall and within a few seconds had scaled the wall to balance with one foot on top of the stand of practice swords and her palm flat against the ceiling as she began running the stud finder over the ceiling. She was going to be perfectly normal, darnit!

20 Miles Out from the Senkaku Islands Saturday, November 29th 0800 Local Time Cannonade looked out at the listless gray skies over the East China Sea, trying to focus on the task ahead of him. Then again, that might have been easier if he knew anything about what it was. He had some idea of why he was flying over international waters in one of AEGIS' high velocity planes, but he was a bit flaky on the fine details. He could, as always, blame Commander Grayston for all of this. He'd answered the knock at his door Saturday afternoon thinking it was Andy coming over to talk about all the things that he'd experienced during the semester up in Boston. He'd actually fought to stifle a groan when he saw who was standing there instead. "Come on," he'd said, "it's Thanksgiving..." "Exactly," Grayston had said, "so think of the ones who didn't make it home to their families." That had shut Joe up real quick. Once Grayston had settled in and salvaged some coffee from Joe's kitchen, he laid all that was known on the table. An AEGIS light aircraft had experienced heavy turbulence while returning from a mission in Japan, and had gone down somewhere around the Senkaku Islands. A transceiver in the plane's black box logged the crashdown site as 20 miles out from one of the islands, and there was a chance the three agents on board had made it to shore. "The Senkaku Islands have been in dispute for years. Japan, Taiwan, and the People's Republic of China all think they have a claim to them, and each one calls them by something different. This island, however... no one seems to be champing at the bit for it. If anything, we've intercepted intelligence that indicates Taiwan has tried to foist it upon Japan in return for claims to one of the others. Our information on it is spotty at best, and neither nation wants to disclose much about it. The best we have to go on is that Japanese intelligence has referred to it as Avici." "Guessing it ain't after the DJ." "No. It's a term for the lowest level of the Buddhist Hells, the place from which sinners have no escape." "Great. So, if the survivors made it there..." "They're capable men and women. But this island has folklore associated with it going back centuries, little of it pleasant. There's no clear, concise picture of what may be dwelling on it, but whatever it is, it has teeth. We need somebody who can get in there, get the agents, and get out before that beast wakes." "Well, it's been a while since I went on a nature hike through Hell itself --" "You're the muscle for the operation. You'll be accompanied by specialists better suited for the... eccentricities of the terrain."

Eric had been out of prison for over well over a week by this point, and he was still staggered by how much the city had changed in his absence. Not only were entire buildings simply not where they once stood, it seemed like everything that stood in the same spot was different. And the cellphones were everywhere. Sure they had been popular before he was locked up, but not every 5 year old had to have one. He didn't recognize anything on the radio anymore, and he certainly knew nothing about what was on TV anymore. In short, he felt old and out of place. The constant death threats didn't do much for his self esteem either. Now it would be rather in keeping of character to just bottle up those emotions and deal with it, but Eric had been down that road before, and frankly no one wanted that to happen again. So he made a few calls to try to see if there was someone who he could talk to, who had gone through this before. Turns out there was. And so Eric had donned his finest suit (at least of the variety that didn't come with a power supply), and invited his guest of honor to a rather swanky restaurant. He was initially surprised he got a reservation so quickly, but he figured the owners might feel that he would take vengeance if they were to snub him, an opinion Eric felt no immediate need to correct. He had arrived early, getting a requested table in one of the darker areas of the restaurant, his mechanical fingers idling drumming on the table while he waited.

Jordan International Airport 9/19/2015, 10:15 AM, Partly Cloudy Spend enough time around airports and one grew accustomed to the dull roar of distant jet engines and the skipping skreech of landing gear hitting the runway. The endless ballet of the airspace over a busy international airport had it's own rhythms and meter to those familiar. Thus it was the change in that rhythm that first would clue in Casey Blankenship of something out of the ordinary, something hard to place in the ordering of landings and take offs, a change in the dull background signals of busy radio bands, then a series of encrypted signals and the sign of sure trouble as she picked up the command from flight control diverting all aircraft from Jordan International where she sat trying to concentrate on her homework whilst she awaited her father finishing whatever business it was that had brought him here this morning. The signal, tight beam and encrypted, could be felt moments before his communicator trilled in the briefcase he left behind, "AEGIS Calling Vigilant, Suspected 7500 need eyes on." *** Inside the Airport there was little to indicate the drama unfolding in the skies above, people slowly made their way through security, passengers awaited flights in uncomfortable seat occasionally checking departure or arrival times. An alert patron might have heard the a distant scream, or noticed uniformed TSA officers rushing to the restrooms near an empty gate. But for most no sign of trouble was likely to be noticed until the boards suddenly refreshed and all flights were marked as delayed, a sure sign of trouble. Those sitting close enough to the gates boarding desk might have heard the whispered supposition that air traffic lost contact with a plane above or that it had broken its flight plan. Neither a good sign to be sure. *** In the skies over Freedom Archtech test pilot Naomi Baines testing the latest adjustments to the flight pack her employers were developing would hear some of the chatter as planes were grounded and military escorts mustered. Given the dangers in the skies Archetech protocol would be to land unless called in by authorities of course. Then again Archtech protocol wasn't exactly designed with a nigh immortal hero in mind. There certainly was an argument to be made that Jordan International was the closest safe landing area after all. *** On board flight 1200 Freedom to London there was little to indicate anything amiss. Regular travelers if they were paying attention might notice they didn't seem to be traveling east as one would expect, but for most in the skies over freedom there were few enough clues as to where they were that it was unlikely to take anything amiss. The Flight attendants began to walk the aisles taking drink orders and all seemed normal until a child gleefully pointed out in a staccato squeal, "Look Mamma the Sentry Statue again We passed it three times now!" Why would the plane be circling Freedom city and why hadn't the flight crew alerted the passengers?

April 18, 2015 Southside Hologram was on her way to visit the Howards, a young couple in their mid-twenties with a little daughter named Emma. Emma is five and a little scrapper; a soon-to-be kindergartener who has started manifesting low-level flight and telekinesis. The Howards, young parents with no reported superhuman activity in the family, are nervous about sending their little girl off to Nicholson, even though they were the ones who contacted Nicholson in the first place. The school has a team of counselors and volunteer staff to help with this kind of thing, but one thing that has a proven track record is sending out a parent volunteer to talk to the parents so they do the right thing and get their little kid the education they need. The Howards' home was a small bungalow in the Southside, a neighborhood that has begun to decline in the years since Paige first lived in Freedom City. But this little cul-de-sac is still doing well, a comfortable community of middle-class young families right at the beginning of their lives. Stepping outside, the most ominous thing Paige could see as she looked up at the little red house was a LOST DOG picture stapled to the nearest utility pole. - It had been the Scarab's last case. Well, second-to-last. In the summer of 1978, violent dreams of bloody carnage had woken Alexander Rhodes night after night, scenes of gore far too real to be imagined but with no real way to trace them to a source. He'd been in the process of developing a psionic resonator that would have allowed him to find the source of the mysterious visions, but then the Scions of Sobek had come to Freedom City, and Alexander Rhodes had never done anything else. The Scarab started seeing the visions again last week. Not the same visions; these were scenes of nature, red in tooth and claw, the brutal killing of animals by something fast and predatory - but the psychic 'color' of the visions was just the same. This time the technology does exist to help the Scarab's powers, though, and so it is that within a few days she's been able to trace the source of the visions to one particular neighborhood in the Southside, a middle-class cul-de-sac that's avoided the rising poverty in the neighborhood. - Wail's phone rang yesterday, going straight to the machine with Keith busy in class. The voice on the other end was rough and male, nobody he immediately recognized. "Wail. Come to the Southside tomorrow morning." He rattled off an address. "We need help." Click - and from a cell line that didn't pick up again when Lamar called it back.

'The Shops' at Midtown sunday 9/13/2015 afternoon cloudy and cool 'The Shops' at midtown plaza were bustling despite the nip of the seemingly sudden turn to fall, shoppers weaved in and out of the high end boutiques and went about their shopping oblivious of the chaos soon to erupt. Despite the pricey nature of hte merchandise the Shops central location and friendly browsing policies made it a popular destination for window shoppers as well. In one sprawling outlet a somewhat out of place appearing group in beaten military surplus urban camo and black hoodies as they browsed the high end electronics on display. Those with sensitive hearing could make out the conversation and it didn't take much to notice security closing in. The smash and grab seemed a bit brazen for the locale certainly but from the taunting way one of the toughs held aloft the device as the sales person reached for it it seemed to be the goal.