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Lor Timemark 1329.7 - February 28, 2015 Repiuk System Asteroid Belt When rich ore deposits had been discovered in the asteroid belt of a system with no habitable worlds nearly a hundred and fifty years prior it had drawn in a rush of prospectors, independent fortune seekers and small companies looking to stake a claim that would set them and their families up for generations. As the demands of the galactic economy shifted and the best veins had been tapped out, however, the cost of refinement had risen past the profitability of the belt and one by one facilities had been abandoned, subterranean ghost towns riddling the asteroids with tunnels and shafts. Decades later those abandoned mines would serve as a base of operations for a vicious pirate fleet, their leader cannily realizing that the remaining deposits of heavy metals would play havoc with snooping sensor sweeps. They'd been found out by the Star Knights nevertheless and soundly routed, leaving another layer of abandoned equipment in their wake. It was Sri A'Lan Koor who had remembered those raids and suggested the belt, a remote location of no military significance or appeal to the Communion, as a staging area for the Coalition forces. For the past three months the secret had remained kept, long enough for the leaders of the Coalition to feel secure gathering together in one room as they planned out their last, best chance to drive out the invading menace. Standing at the war table the veteran Star Knight had to wonder if they weren't going to do the Communion's job for it. "You need to pull your head out of whatever orifice you've shapeshifted for defecation purposes," Senator Diena Th'emme told the Grue Arcane across from her flatly, fingertips pressed firmly against the surface of the horizontal display between them. The tall, imperious woman managed to make even the utilitarian grey jumpsuit she was wearing come across as regalia, her honey blonde hair done up in a crisp bun. "We have a precise window of opportunity. What troops we can spare to assault the communication relay will have to be enough." The short, stocky being to her made a fluting growl, waving fur covered hands for emphasis as his translator box did its work in an incongruously light soprano. "You would send them to their deaths and for what?" Minister Ch'rrr had rallied a number of worlds to the Coalition's banner in his home sector but was by nature disinclined toward risk taking. "The slim hope of a possible advantage for a doomed plan? Your ancestors' pardon, Citizen Tulink, but I cannot place so much faith in a single simulacrum. Surely you agree, Praetorian Val-Ren?"

Sitting outside the Main Entrance of the school was an old oak tree that being outside a super for super kids had seen many and varied things. Despite it all it was still quite healthy, with a little TLC from various plant controllers down the years, and with it position was a popular place to meet newcomers. It was also one of Blodeuwedds favorite places to go to gather her thoughts and if she wished few could find her hidden in the branches. Today however she wasn’t concealed as she had the honour of meeting a few new arrivals to the school.

De Pijp, Amsterdam Saturday, December 6th 3:23 PM local time Joe Macayle had to admit, this was a lot better than the last time he'd been sent abroad by AEGIS. Although it was cold and crisp in Amsterdam, and some of the canals were starting to show signs of frost, the streets were still clear and the sky was still blue. There was that general sense of charm to the place, of somewhere that was bustling but where you could find a place to sit back and watch the world go by. There was a lot to partake of here - the dive bars, the coffee shop, the other coffee shops... But all that would have to wait. AEGIS didn't send him out here for vacation purposes, after all. The tide of economic distress in Europe had turned over a number of rocks in the past few years, and the fascists had come skittering out to preach to the fearful and distrustful. Even in Amsterdam, though, the far-right interests had limits - while the Party for Freedom had spent years preaching about the menace of immigrating Muslims and trying very hard to "keep the Netherlands Dutch," that still ran headlong into the fact that the Netherlands were, well, Dutch. The party maintained an active defense of queer and Jewish individuals, asking that they be given their freedom and the law used fully to protect them from assault - mainly as a flying wedge against what they saw as the menace of Islam, but at least with enough lip service to make most other far-right parties look at them sideways. Aside from that, there were a few parties more in line with fascists concerns, but they were minor, fragmented, and often came into conflict with the big dog - the thing about using "support for Palestine" as a smokescreen for anti-Semitism was that it ran headlong into the interests that used "support for Israel" as a smokescreen for anti-Islamic sentiment. Which made it interesting that a new far-right interest was on the rise locally, one that seemed to be going all in. The United Netherlands Group had seen a rise over the past year, targeting working and middle class populations with the promise of a "reforged, refined" Netherlands. One that paid tribute to a heritage of fortitude, independence, and empire, and not "reverse colonization" and "personal degradation." They'd managed to stuff their distaste for things like the red light districts, the coffee shops, and gay marriage well down the docket, framing it more as a libertarian concern - "Who should tell us what we have to accept?" - while pushing the idea of a nation meddled with by outside forces, be it Zionists, Islamists, or the European Union. While the party had yet to claim any seats, it was gaining a good deal of influence in the smaller cities, and was starting to make inroads in Amsterdam. And, most alarmingly to AEGIS intelligence, the party's war chest was incredibly hard to trace. Where most of these parties had some media mogul or entrepreneur with some very unconventional beliefs pulling the strings, no one knew where the UNG was getting its funding. There was a part of Joe that had bristled at the idea that he was being sent to try and infiltrate what UNG interests he could find. He admitted, he did look the part - but mainly to people who assumed someone who looked and dressed like he did would gravitate that direction. But if it gave him a real in with the fascists, then it would be worth it. And make it all the more satisfying when he got to deliver the beatdown. He'd been told there would be some sort of gathering in this part of town, protesting some issue or another. For now, he waited for the tinder to gather, just to see who would light the spark.

Lynn Epstein's West End apartment. Monday, April 13th, 2015. 3:05am "Fuhh!" Lynn abruptly woke up in bed, her heart racing; the sheets were tightly wrapped around her and the pillow was on the floor. She sat up and blinked her eyes, the darkened bedroom as clear as day to her faerie eyes. Two of her cats were curled up on the bed, clearly upset at being disturbed by her rude outburst, so she reached out and scratched between their ears with her claws, just the lightest touch. "Sorry, babies; Mommy had another nightmare." It had been one of the bad ones; she and Bill were at the ranch, celebrating the twin's birthday. Her parents were there, along with Erik and Ellie, and the kids were enjoying pony rides. Then Viktor arrived fashionably late, laughing with an armload of packages, and everyone was excited to open their presents, but only Lynn could see the long black spider legs poking through wrapping paper, and Ruthie eagerly reached out to grab her gift- The ageless changeling went into the bathroom, ran the sink and splashed her face with water. She filled a cup with water and drank it, more out of habit than any real thirst. Lynn contemplated her face in the mirror, the perfect flawless mask, and sighed. "Ya need help, kid; better go get some!" - - - ArcheTech's Hanover facility, 9:22 am that same day Lynn didn't feel like flying; at times like this, the mindless jostle of public transportation was somehow more appropriate, and she could just veg out in her seat like everybody else. It took a lot longer, but eventually she made it to Hanover and what was left of Dok's legacy; she realized belatedly that she'd never stepped in this building before, and wasn't sure what to expect. She'd opted for a sort of 'office casual' look, with a tweed jacket over a simple cotton blouse, dark Capri pants and brown ankle boots. Reaching under her blouse, she found the familiar ring on its thong; she pulled it out, gave it a quick kiss, then tucked it away as she headed for the main entrance. Once inside, she made a beeline for the security desk, and offered the security guard on duty a dazzling but nervous smile. "Hi! I'm not sure who I should talk to; I'm sorry, I didn't make an appointment." She leaned in closer. "My name's Lynn Epstein, and I was hoping to talk to someone about Viktor...Archeville?"

Miller Park, The Fen’s Freedom City 23rd February 2015, 10:00 am The small rather grotty park on the edge of the fen’s had a rather dubious distinction for the kind of people that inhabited the park through the night. BUt the local inhabitants had had enough and were trying to improve the reputation of the area and it started by cleaning up the area. Several of the cities largest companies had donated money towards the project and several organizations had donated their time including several school, Claremont being one of them. As part of you Social Responsibility class you’ve all been bused in to spend the morning cleaning up trash, not the most exciting of events but at least it get’s you out of the classroom.

December 25, 2014 Freedom City Midnight Manor Late in the evening on Christmas Day, a Deep One sang an eerie song in the Midnight Manor, her body silhouetted by the darkness outside. "BUT I GET UP AGAIN! YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN! WOO!" As her song finished and the strains of Tubthumping vanished into the quiet of what was sometimes one of many front parlors in the Hunter mansion, Aquaria leaped in the air and cheered, her smooth, wet skin glistening from the exertion of the vigorous karoake number. "I am awesome!" For their part, Mark and Nina both cheered and applauded - Mark hadn't been at all sure bringing the machine along was the right idea, but luckily Jessie's amphibian friend had practically snatched the karaoke machine up with her tongue and practically begged to go first. (Jessie had, blushingly, commented that Aquaria used to do this a lot before disappearing herself) Aquaria first approached Mark and Nina, since they had been the latest to the party - only arriving after Martha Lucas had turned in early and left her son and his girlfriend free for Christmas. "You guys want a turn? C'mon, don't be chicken!" Between Nina's competitive streak and Mark's natural showmanship, it wasn't long before the couple was standing in front of the computerized board, picking out their song - 500 Miles seeming to be an early favorite. Aquaria bounded over to join Erin and Trevor to watch the show, declaring, "Surface music is great, you can yell so loud when you're singing! And nobody complains!"

With a loud boom the woman crashed into the sidewalk scattering the few pedestrians making there way to and from work. She rose up from the impressive dent she’d made in the concret, apparently unconcerned with the damage she’d caused, and looked around at everything that was going on around her. “So this is the fabled Freedom City, I must say I’m not impressed.” She strode purposely to a rather bemused hot dog cart vendor who had obviously seen it all before. “What are you offering vendor?” The man whipped together a dog with a flourish of someone who’d done this kind of thing many times before. “Here try one of my famous dog, the best in the city.” The woman took the dog and took a single bite before her face darkened. “Are you trying to poison me with his horrendous processed meat?” Throwing the offending food away she lifted the man up by the neck apparently aiming to cause him harm.

March 11th. The message had come through the hero contact methods he had out there. It was easier this way, as trying to get a hold of him directly was as difficult are contacting the CEO of any large, international, financial institution. So next to impossible. Of course he was taking this on faith, but thus far he hadn't been called or setup in an ambush, and it wasn't like Fleur de Joie was someone like that. She was fairly well established, if a kid. Or not a kid? That was tricky sometimes when he started to examine these sorts of things. He was older than most of the other heroes, retiring seemed a little, but... That was less likely for him. Amir al-Misri stopped before the mirror, checking to make sure the red track suit and black t-shirt covered the containment suit. Seemed like every few months he got to do something he thought impossible, and his powers were... going wonky. WHich he assumed was the scientific term. So now he was saddled with this thing, just sort of gave him the reins on his abilities, which he was okay with. Satisfied he wasn't looking so idiotic, he left the expensive Parkside townhouse. And he crossed the street. Enjoying one part about beings a public hero, as he used his power of flight to get over the busy avenue. Landing in the grass, when he opted to clear the fence and get to the lawn, before he started towards the Botanical Gardens (after all how could he resist having the meeting there?) from Poet's Grove. As he walked along the path, intent on being there at least a half hour early, he casually thumbed through his alerts, and sending Ana a message reminding her of this meeting. It wouldn't be a problem, his schedule was actually clear, apart for tomorrow. So all was left as he crested a bend and walked into the garden proper, putting a little something into the donation box as he stepped inside, taking in the sights, before settling on a bench near the main entrance, as he worked off his smartphone, sending messages, and trauling through some of the massive amount of news and media he consumed on the day to day.

February 28th, 2015 Night The Fens, Freedom City, New Jersey Miras stood at the edge of the rooftop and watched the police wheel the body out of the tiny apartment. She knew she really shouldn’t be here, she knew that it was a violation of the anonymity of Narcotics Anonymous, but her brain wouldn’t just let it go. She had missed Allison’s tousled blonde head at three weekly meetings, and after a couple of drinks the woman’s sponsor allowed that Allison wasn’t answering her cellphone, either. It had been a little bit harder to track her after that, as NA didn’t keep membership records, but she found the food bank Allison volunteered at and someone that Allison had taken home one night. That lead Miras to a dinky apartment in the Fens; at least she hadn’t had to break down the door to get inside. Inside it had been, well, the sort of place someone lives when they’re working too many hours at four different minimum wage jobs. The only thing that didn’t fit, the one thing Miras had been dreading, was Allison’s corpse on her bed, a needle still in her arm. She had called the police from a payphone and waited. To give credit to Freedom City’s finest, they responded quickly to an anonymous phone call from the bad part of town telling them that someone had ODed. Now the witch’s eyes followed the police and the paramedics as they wheeled the body away. She rolled an empty glass bottle between her fingers; it was a simple sort that existed by the hundred in any pharmacy. The label had been peeled off, and someone had drawn dozens of tiny ‘Z’s had been drawn on it with markers and fit it with a new rubber cap. It was perfect to hold a sample of intravenous drugs. A drug that had killed Allison. Miras felt something sharp cutting into her palm and looked down at her hand. The bottle was suddenly broken into little glass shards. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Whoever was behind this would pay for Alison’s death, but Miras wouldn’t let the scumbag take her own life and freedom away.

USS Theodore Roosevelt, Red Sea 0600 EET 6th April 2015 (0000 ET) Even though Henry was officially an AEGIS liaison the Army still occasionally sent him all over the world to help them deal with “problemâ€. Generally it was a couple of hour in a transport to support troops dealing with some mercenary Supervillain before the same boring journey back home. This time it was different Henry was whisked from the base in one of the armies Aurora hypersonic transports and whisked halfway across the world in just over an hour to land on the Roosevelt. Disembarking from the craft he was met straight away by a Middle Eastern looking woman in Marine fatigues. “Pleased to meet you Captain Thompson I’m Lieutenant Freedom Jones, USMC.†she gave a sharp salute them offered her hand “I’ll be your pilot and liaison for this mission, I’m afraid I’m going to have to brief you on the way.†She gesture to a waiting Osprey apparently prepped and already ready to take flight.

WYRM HQ, Midtown July 6th The World Youth Rescue Movement's HQ didn't really have a high tech training room unlike Claremont. It was noticeably simpler and more bare-bone. Still, it was better than nothing and it got the job done, allowing Cho and the others to train. Currently Cho was under much stress, having to fend off attack after attack from multiple angles. The teenager crossed her arms over her face as a jet of hot flames erupted. She barely had the time to recover from that when a black blurr began assailing her with sharp claws. With only a brief moment to strike, Cho landed a punch on the second assailant, sending it flying, only to leave herself exposed to another jet of flame. -- As Cho was currently sparring with Magmatic and Racer Konchu, on the other side of the reinforced glass, Saboteur and Brainclay observed. "She wasn't kidding when she asked if this was simply a question of filling some gap in the team's abilities." Saboteur commented. "She's actually managing to hold her own against both Magmatic and Racer. ' 'Holding her own' is somewhat innacurate. She is clearly overall weaker than the two of them at once. This is hardly what I would call a fair fight. Not to mention she is very close to collapsing. Her endurance and resillence are formidable but not enough in this situation.' The telepath 'replied', still blankly staring ahead, not even making eye contact with his interlocutor. There wasn't a single hint of facial expression from the adrogynous alien. Continuing to observe the sparring match, which was less and less in Cho's favor as she kept being wailed on non stop by the other two, Saboteur added: "Still, the initial reports and assesments prove to be entirely accurate. Her abilities are quite impressive. I wouldn't say they are anything legendary, there have been plenty of individual with powers of this kind across superpowered history, but she's still something. Especially since she's clearly untrained and tapping into a mere fragment of her powers." 'Mental blocks are apparently quite common for individuals of this kind. Their feeble, simplistic terran minds are unable to rationalize the amount of power they posses. Their emotions, especially fear and doubt cloud their mind and install blocks. These blocks are what prevent them from fully accessing their full capabilities. A similar phenomena exist within telepaths.' "Yes what about her history and the psychological profile?" Saboteur was suddenly reminded, having asked Brainclay to review it. 'Subject is of mixed ancestry. Biological progenitor unit you call a father was apparently what you would called korean-japanese. It appears that the bequeating a japanese name to the child would be strange, but that is the only apparently unusual detail to her history beyond her unusual ancestry. Said father was killed in a random act of violence, which may act as a potential motivator for fighting what she may consider 'evil'. Otherwise her famillial history is completely and utterly mundane and insignificant. As for Cho, she appears to be rather mundane herself.' Coldly stated the alien. "Define mundane, will you?" He asked back to the alien. The telepath continued to coldly state everything, still not making any eye contact: 'She is not particularly notable. She does not stand out from the crowd of countless other humans of her age range and gender. The subject has her own unique...quirks...but those are nothing out of the ordinary. Her most notable trait is that she is actually quite the underachiever; it is this very trait which prevents her standing out from the rest as she is remarkably lazy and unwilling to develop any talent she might naturally posess.' "If you ask me she seems rather determined so that IS something. Still, I guess that was part of the whole idea, getting someone that is...ah, I suppose 'normal' is the right term." Said Saboteur, continuing his analytical observation of Cho's fight, down to her fighting style. Or rather lack of fighting style, as the case was. It was only at Claremont that she ever received any amount of what might be called training. Mostly it was just her flailling until she hit something. "Her balance and reflexes are good, but hardly good enough to suffice in a fight like this. She's poor at guarding her sides and..." He muttered to himself, analyzing the battle. 'I would hardly defined someone so infused with entropy as 'normal'. Such being is an anomaly. It is, therefore, anormal.' The telepath added, as it walked out of the observation room. -- "Okay, phew whew okay...yeah...j-just a minute." Cho garbled out, collapsing from the repeated blows from Magmatic and Racer Konchu. She had done everything to hold her own against the two in a brawl but raw determination wasn't enough to keep her ticking and fighting forever. Grunting, the teenager tried to get back on her leg after receiving blows that would have broken an ordinary human in half. "I-I think we're good for today. I hope you guys got, well, whatever information you wanted out of that." "Oh I'm sure Miles got what he wanted out of this Choey! He's good at picking up other's weakness. Here, take my hand I'll get you up!" Said the energetic magmin, offering a large, thick hand made of hardened crystals to her sparring partner.

GM Abandoned Warehouse The Fens, Freedom City, New Jersey 8:00 PM Friday, January 16th, 2015 A recent string of assaults on Terminus empowered mutants had drawn the attention of the local media. Some calling it a paranoid hate crime after the recent alien invasion. After Gorge, a student at the illustrious Claremont Academy, was attacked Nevermore sought to personally uncover the mystery. Nevermore's investigation drew him through many twists an turns until finally he found himself in a small shipping warehouse near the waterfront. Stalking and taking out multiple gang members on his own Nevermore eventually found himself in the center of the warehouse. Surrounded by six armed thugs holding a variety of firearms the heir to the Raven was in a hairy situation. Apparently the gang had planned for his arrival judging by the ticking bomb that was currently sitting on the opposite end of the room. It was a good plan. If only Nevermore had chosen to fly alone this night. They might have stood a 1% chance of taking him out in their odd murder suicide bombing. As it stood, kneeling in front of that bomb was the boisterous Glamazon. The bullet holes in her clothing showing that somewhere along the line the men had simply given up on attempting to shoot the demigoddess as it was getting nowhere. The clock continued ticking as Thaelia declared her lack of understanding of the explosives.

GM The Island of Valaxa Indian Ocean Saturday, August 16, 2014 4:27 PM Thirty years ago the island of Valaxa was discovered by an Indian fishing ship. Since then researchers have made various attempts at attempting to bridge a relationship with the local population to no avail. The presence of outsiders has been met with violent resistance. The Valaxans have even managed to sink entire ships to make their message clear. With ritualistic dancing and whooping afterwards in open celebration. Earlier this morning to avoid an incoming storm a commercial plane took an alternate route flying over the island. A local Valaxan actually flew off the island and smashed a wing wholesale. Sending the plane crashing down below. It wasn't long before local air authority lost contact with the plane. And an emergency scramble quickly took place. When a local expedition team was led to try and recover the plane they too were met with resistance. The timely arrival of the heroine known as Triakosia prevented the second plane from being shot down. In the process she managed to capture a Valaxan and both parties were able to reach a consensus and arrange a sit down meeting. Shortly afterwards the Freedom League was contacted and agreed to send in two representatives to help smooth things over all the easier. Currently, the trio of Gabriel, Triakosia, and Velocity were on a Freedom League Pegasus jet with a group of sociologists who had been preparing them for their upcoming meeting. All waiting for the signal that it was okay for outsiders to land on the island for the first time in its known history.

The vision hit Erick Sloane like a runaway truck. The vision which hit Erick Sloane was a runaway truck. An armored car crashed right into him. It couldn't have been him, because the car smashed into him and crumpled around him like he was a stone pillar or a steel lamppost. The impact had lifted the back tires into the air, and they didn't have time to fall back down to the street before whatever the car crashed into lifted or pushed it up and over, to land upside-down onto the street behind it. Erick blinked his eyes, and saw the uniformed drivers lying on the ground, convulsing like marionette puppets as dozens if not hundreds of bullets shredded their torsos. Their kevlar vests weren't built to take so many direct hits at such close range all at once. Blood mingled with engine oil before soaking into the asphalt. In the background, as the vision faded away, Erick could just barely make out the reflection of the cheque-cashing shop's sign in the spiderwebbed remains of the armored car's window. He recognized the place. It was across the street from a decent taqueria.

The Giza Brewpub & Theatre's online crowdfunding campaign had been a massive success, and the subsequent renovations had managed to upgrade the picture quality and kitchen facilities without sacrificing the old-school charm of the interior facades. There was only one screen, but it was massive, and between the floor seating and the balcony level, there were over a thousand seats, all sold out days ago. Tonight's grand re-opening was a student-organized fundraiser for Joseph Clark High. Locals from Lincoln and Southside rubbed elbows with the hipsters commuting across the South River, all eager for the double feature: A newly-restored print of the genre-redefining horror classic Dead Moon Rising, followed the premiere of the recent remake. Ten percent of every ticket sold for tonight was going to the school. Of all the teachers at Joseph clark, Mister LaMarr had been the obvious choice to be "volunteered" to attend and keep an eye on things. If nothing else, his presence would help to placate the busybodies on the PTA worried about the possibility of underage drinking.

The Scarab soared through the sky over downtown Freedom City like a bullet, her massive scarlet cape rippling behind her like a flag. She was hidden under a cloak of psychic invisibility, a command to ignore and forget her presence that only the strongest minds could resist, but a red blur would show up later on security cameras and in the backgrounds of selfies (and then soon after on social networking and microblogging feeds). Today, her target was a simple tech lab in the North End, Hallomen Advanced Experts. She floated down to the ground and walked up to the door, which opened with a thought (or, to any observers, of its own accord). Her cape continued to billow behind her, as though she were still shooting through the sky. The crimson-clad hero floated up to the reception desk. The receptionist heard a hundred voices speaking in unison inside her mind. Her cape lifted to momentarily reveal an armored suitcase floating in the air beside her. This is a matter of life and death which requires the ultimate in technological expertise.

December 25, 2014 Walking about the Dubai International Convention Centre and mingling, Amir al-Misri would have been well within his rights to congratulate himself on a very successfully hosted conference. The science and technology summit - his PR people had come up with a more pompous title but it had sounded a little too obviously designed by committee to stick in the billionaire philanthropist's mind - had drawn experts in civic engineering, clean energy initiatives, information networking and a few dozen other equally impressive fields from around the globe. The chance to compare notes and show off the latest prototypes had been incentive enough but the sizable grant money being offered by his firm to the most impressive projects hadn't hurt, either. He wasn't left to bask in satisfaction for long, however, as one of his aides rushed over, his colouring pallid with stress, and shoved a tablet into Amir's hands. "Sir! Sir, you have to see this," the uncharacteristically disheveled man insisted, running a hand through his neat beard. "Some sort of weapon just made groundfall in the Rub' al Khali! It looks like- the data suggests it was launched from orbit. The payload... we don't have any idea what we're looking at, sir." The thermal satellite image on the tablet showed an aerial view of the Empty Quarter with a small, strangely cool blotch at the site of the impact. A blotch that was slowly but noticeably spreading outward.

GM Alleyway between two Dive Bars (Adrenaline, and The Wasteland) The Fens, Freedom City, New Jersey Monday, March 26, 2014 8:20 PM Detective Valerie Archer was a proud member of Freedom's finest. Her spotless record, and military background put her in good graces with her superiors. Her habit of practically 'living at her desk' has lead to more than one person worrying about her personal life. But Detective Archer's record is exemplary. A long time lover of the law and what it stands for, Archer was aghast when she found a discrepancy in the amount of cash filed into evidence from the actual amount found at crime scenes after being partnered with a detective named Robert Grayson. In fact, she noticed this discrepancy in many of the cases Grayson and two others had been assigned for the past six months. Setting up her own sting operation. She sent an email from Grayson's computer setting up a meet between the three of them. And took a recording device to gather evidence. Unfortunately the detectives were on to her, and upon finding Detective Archer gunned her down. And if she were an ordinary detective, Valerie Archer would have died that day. But Detective Archer's record is exemplary. So exemplary she already gave her life for the job once. There was a new distributor attempting to spread his own strain of Zombie powder on the market. The dealer actually lined his bullets with the stop. Figuring any police that came after him that survived a gunshot wound would be hooked on the product, or die in defiance. Valerie Archer chose the latter option. And die she did. For all of six hours that is. Rising from the dead, Detective Archer found her body felt different. Her sense of touch numbed. Taste lessened. Everything could be willed into working order for sure. But for all intents and purposes she was undead. Very few people have become privy to the knowledge of her condition. Not even her fellow police officers knew. And if it wasn't for some unfortunate footage of her leaving the abandoned lot, the dirty cops would have left her for dead. But they knew Archer was alive, and set about forging evidence against her. Valerie Archer was now a fugitive overnight. Like many of Freedom City's other well kept secrets the Raven was of privy to Detective Archer's secret 'condition'. She even agreed, through secret messages, to help Detective Archer clear her name. Noting if she turned out to be guilty Raven would personally bring her in. But it wasn't the Raven whom showed up for the secret meeting in the alleyway between two dive bars.

Braddock’s Restaurant, London, United Kingdom Braddock’s was one of the most exclusive restaurant in London there was a two year waiting list and still then you could be turned down for not being of the right caliber. So an invite to attend a diner on the fly was a surprise in the very least. As they arrived they were show to a table where there sat an old woman she only appeared in her 60 but she was actually much older. Dame Pennington, Britannia during the war, was not a woman to be trifled with despite her advancing years.

April 16, 2015 As the young woman bustled into the Black Petal Cafe, flustered and wringing her hands, she bounced up on the tips of her toes, straining to see past the line up and over the counter. Her sea green eyes weren't scanning the board for the current list of seasonal lattes or the featured roast but rather darting from face to face until she spotted the barista for whom she was searching. Actually hopping up and down she waved urgently to the dark haired man with the sleeve tattoos, her long chestnut hair hanging in the air a little too long as she kept her lips pressed tightly together as though refraining from shouting his name would somehow make her less conspicuous.

San El-H, Djanei VI GM Post In the height of the Delaztri Empire Djanei was the height of learning bringing scientists and academics from throughout the empire and beyond. Now it was a forgotten world on the edge of Lor space, it one great universities lost to the deciduous forest that covered much of the world. Sam El-H was a small frontier town sat on the edge of a mine reclaiming exotic metals from the soil. Most of the miners were still working their claims so the cantina was mostly deserted when a half dozen armoured figures entered the bar. A mass of almost clashing colours and with an elaborate helmets it would be easy to underestimate them as purely ceremonial, except for the deadly blaster stapped to there waist. They began to harass the barkeep, one of the original Delazti settlers, about expected supplies that they had no intention to pay a single credit. There order didn’t say they weren’t meant to interfere, though technically it wasn’t there territory, but Sitara had alway been fuzzy about order in cases like this. “I do believe that he doesn't want to help you with your problems, I suggest you leave now before trouble breaks out.†she was seemed relaxed, though she kept her hand near her power pike just in case. “This doesn’t involve you stranger don’t get involved.†his spoke the local tongue with a heavy accent. “Besides...†he looked around a little over dramatically “I count six of us, who have you got on your side?â€

GM A tropical rainforest Somewhere probably not Kansas anymore. 6:12 AM Friday September 5th, 2014 Oskar was visiting a small German town which had its annual circus. A throwback to his prewar youth, he wanted to get caught up in the nostalgia decades after the fact. If only the bear hadn't gotten lose. The raging grizzly attempted to attack the audience. But it was quickly wrestled by Oskar whom promptly sedated and captured the beast without harm. Aside from the unexplained scratch on his shoulder, shortly followed by a loss of vision. Until finally the interstellar safari hunter had fallen unconscious. Alek for his part had finished a long night of tracking down a weapons smuggling ring to the base of its operations. The Yakuza in Atlantic city had control of it. At least until Nevermore had finished dismantling it. En route back to Freedom City the Talon suddenly began to die. Upon coming to a complete stop there was a sudden surge of electricity that jolted into his body and Alek was out. Vonnie's night was a little more low key. If you count a rooftop chase with a thief as low key. Having used his wrist mounted grapnel's as a snare Vonnie had the thief dead to right. If he had made that last jump he would have been well on his way home to finish packing before his return to a semester at Claremont. In fact, Vonnie knew that he should have made that last jump. Everything just got hazy after he felt a sharp sting on the side of his neck. When they awoke the trio were left in the middle of a massive forest. Handcuffed to one another. Nevermore left in the unfortunate position of being stuck in the middle. No sign of civilization immediately abound. Most of their equipment had gone missing, the only weapon left behind was Oskar's cybernetic hand. Their masks had gone missing replaced with animal skulls and paint. Alek's costume had been replaced wholesale by some sort of tribal outfit. On the ground there was a note which read:

The Combat Simulator used bleeding edge technology to allow students to face almost any perceivable threat. They could face anything from a mugger to the Lord of Entropy himself all without putting themselves in any danger. Unfortunately it was run and organised by very much flawed humans, who very rarely made mistakes. It seems that somehow both you groups have been booked to use the CS at the same time. Well you’re all here at the same time, what are you to do?

It was getting late, nearly midnight as Wander leapt into the West End, landing atop a bank building to take in the lay of the land. Warmer weather was keeping people out later, which in turn invited more bad-deed-doers, but the night had been fairly quiet. She'd busted a teenage pickpocket at half past eight, saved a dog from traffic on the Pramas Bridge around nine-fifteen and served as a human jack for a motorist with a flat tire just after eleven. Street superheroing, a very glamorous life, she thought to herself with a small laugh. She'd take it over fighting off apocalypses any day. She was familiar with the West End but didn't come out here that often, just because there were so many superheroes who called this place home. Next to Bayview, it was the most super-dense population she knew of in the city. But the Interceptors were justifiably distracted these days, and she'd heard rumors that someone might be trying to cause them trouble, so she'd cruised through the area on her last few patrols. She wasn't technically responsible for Mara, Ellie and their family when she wasn't working, but they were still her friends. Never hurt to be a little cautious.

April 1, 2015 3 AM Outside of Wittmund, Germany Alone, Dimitri Peshkov stood in the shadow of history. The Allies of Freedom monument, erected in 1953, loomed behind him, commemorating the heroic sacrifice of Lady Celtic, Renard Rouge, and Spitfire Jones on one terrible night seventy years previously. It did not depict the last surviving member of that tragically crushed superhero team. In 1953, no one in West Germany had wanted to praise "The Ice Commissar" as he had once been known. Comrade Frost lit a cigarette, its glow bright in the darkness against his pale skin and hood, and stared up at the monument, pacing back and forth beneath its shadow, heedless of the municipal airfield nearby. The airfield that had once been the airstrip that Wilhelm Kantor had escaped from - after his cold-blooded murder of the finest men and women Dimitri Peshkov had ever known. Silently, he remembered the past - and opened a thermos of piping-hot vodka laced with human blood. April 2, 1945 Outside Königsberg, East Prussia "WHERE ARE THEY!?" Comrade Frost grabbed the big SS officer by the throat and began to squeeze, feeling blood and flesh begin to freeze to ice beneath his cold grasp, mist billowing from his eyes and mouth as his eyes burned red and his fangs bulged horribly. "WHERE ARE KANTOR AND NACHT-KREIGER!" He released his grasp and let the man babble, pleas for mercy, apologies, telling the angry ice controller he had no idea where Kantor had gone, he was just a low-level Thule Society member, he really knew. Frost grabbed the man's head and squeezed until his pleas stopped, then turned to his Red Army escorts, who were looking with a mixture of fear and awe at the Soviet champion. "The rest are as useless. None of them know where Kantor has gone." He pointed to the white-faced SS prisoners and then said, "Sh...no, even better. Strip them of their weapons and give them to those Jews they had made their test subjects. See what _they_ make of them." - April 1, 2015 3 AM Outside Wittmund, Germany The orders had come in from the usual sources, for all that the orders themselves were unusual. Titan had been dispatched to guard the Allies of Freedom monument in Wittmund, Germany on the occasion of the 70th anniversary of their deaths. There were evidently concerns about vandalism, concerns that seemed justified as he approached the monument by night (as per his orders) and found a man shouting at it in Russian, waving around a cigarette in one hand and what looked like a hip flask in the other. But why had he been pulled out of the United States to come here, halfway around the world, even to guard an important historical treasure. "<You would have given them a soldier's death, yes? Told me that we were defined by how we treated our enemies and that barbarism was no solution to barbarism.>" He waved in the general direction of the statue of Renard Rouge, his movements violent and his voice full of grief. "<But you were a hero, Amelie, a hero to the end. And I am, and ever shall be...FROST!>" Frost stomped his foot. "<A creature with a heart so cold!>" Titan knew this man. Comrade Frost; a Soviet hero and a brave man, a self-described 'ice monster' who had gone from an enemy agent to a loyal, trustworthy ally who was like his "least favorite brother." But he also knew he had never seen him before in his life.