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December 25, 2014 In Shropshire, Daniel Frewer turned his head to the sky, wondering suddenly what lay in the heavens. In Osaka, Homura Kato froze on the subway, feeling a sudden sense of calm and tranquility. In Alexandria, Amir al-Khudari locked himself in his apartment and spent hours writing page after page about some coming revelation, the dawning of a new prophet. Across the world, a whisper was falling into the minds of humanity. A thought launched like a needle, to grow and take hold for when the time was right. But for some people, the whisper was more like a shout. National Astronomy and Ionosphere Center Arecibo, Puerto Rico 9:12 PM The Scarab meditated above the structure hanging suspended over the gigantic radio telescope. She had felt the psychic broadcast raining down on humanity, and knew what it meant. If people were being guided towards a certain thought, it would likely come with a hard suggestion - and one of the best places for that to come through would be a site aimed towards receiving messages from the heavens. Something had come through early, however. When she arrived at the telescope, she had found the scientists in a mad bacchanal, offering praise and worship to whatever lay beyond. She had tranquilized them and managed to undo the damage, but they were still recovering. Now was the best time to turn this force's tricks against it. She just hoped the others would arrive to provide a full counter-offensive.

December 17, 2014. The West End, Silverman’s Books. Unknown Parallel Earth. Unknown amount of time after sunset. The books were getting a little dusty. Wynn Epstein hadn’t been inside in a few months, since the rebellion’s last gasp took a few employees…off the payroll. But today she was back, and cleaning up. New glass windows to replace the boarded up and broken ones. In the morning, a few new eager employees from Claremont would be by to help out, and best of all, a Carson security robot was schedules for delivery to keep things orderly. Everything was going to go just fine, and soon enough, the store would reopen. That was the plan. Meanwhile, Cerwyn Pefr was chasing down a thief. Yes, the world was largely peaceful and crime-free since the rebellion had been put down, but crime didn’t just magically go away. Heh, magically. The thief was fast. No. She was a teleporter. Moving from shadow to shadow. He touched his commlink. “Kit, it’s Blod. Can you catch this one? I’m having some trouble here. Seems she’s a teleporter.†Christina Vance, alias Kit, rolled her eyes. “She’s not a ‘porter. Just faster than eyes. I’ll get her.†Chris wasn’t what anyone would call subtle about it, either. A massive ball of fire flashed past the thief, stopping her short. She glanced around for a hiding spot-and found a store with the lights still on. She bolted inside, never bothering to notice that the fireball didn’t actually damage anything. In fact, there wasn’t even a wisp of smoke to prove it was ever there. Blod frowned. “You call that getting her?†He jogged up near the store, stepped into a shadow, and vanished from sight. “The freshmen can do better.†Kit popped out of the shadow next to him. She towered over the diminuative Welsh boy. “She’s off the street, isn’t she?†Inside the shop, Wynn was quite surprised by her guest’s sudden appearance. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet. Try again in a week?†This young woman was an archer, judging by the bow on her back. And, as Lynn abruptly learned as she stepped up to Wynn in the blink of an eyes, she was very fast. “I’m sorry. There’s a couple of people after me. They’ve got bad intentions and I’m not anywhere near invulnerable, so I’ve been on the run for a bit. Can I hide out for a few minutes?†Wynn was prepared to tell her to leave now, please…but on closer examination she bore a striking resemblance to one of her lost employees. Her heartstrings twinged, and she sighed. “All right. Bathroom’s in the back. Water…should work.†But before either of them could do anything else, Blod and Kit burst into the store. The young woman tossed a glance that screamed “HELP!†in Wynn’s direction. The timid young woman refused to lose her dear employee a second time, and she activated her fae magic. Blod and Kit had no choice but to defend themselves. Magic twisted, clashed, and surprisingly melded. There was a brilliant flash of light, and the store was empty. December 17, 2014. The West End, Silberman’s Books. Earth Prime. 7:43 PM. Cerys Pefr was taking Lynn Epstein’s offer of visiting the store. The Welsh girl and the fairy were having one of the most disjointed conversations of all time when the store was abruptly illuminated by a bright light and four people tumbled out of the air and onto the floor. The lone male of the group grumbled in a familiar accent to Cerys.“Gods curse it, Toni. You couldn’t just give me back my vid, could you?†The boy could almost be from Wales, but something was slightly off. “Now, again. We’re in another dimension, again. We’re gonna have to figure out where we are so Kit can port us back. Again.†For the parts of Tona Baudlin and Samantha Vance, the two lovebirds were enjoying a night in, when the hubbub distracted them from their activities. Specifically, Robin Hood: Men in Tights (along with a few other choice Mel Brooks movies) and a truly ridiculous amount of snacks. A certain mutual acquaintance had recommended the man’s work, and well…so far, so good.

Eclipse Thursday, December 16th 2014 9:52 PM After two weeks straight of her first round of college finals, Eliza could feel her brain curdling into the consistency of butterscotch pudding. Between her studies, her extracurriculars, and her nightly extracurriculars, there was only so much she could take until she lost herself in something stupid. Then came Guardian. The show was another attempt to do a hero drama in primetime, this time focused mainly on a teen audience. The show had acquired an ensemble cast that had everyone on Tumblr fighting for one or another, but no one got more attention than Harry Langstrom, a.k.a. Jonathan Regent, a.k.a. the Guardian, the super-strong (though not budget-busting), super-tough street vigilante and lead of the show. Janet, her roommate, was a big fan of the show, and while Eliza couldn't quite get fully into it ("Why is that girl fighting crime in three-inch heels?"), it allowed for some time to unwind, bond, and eat some popcorn. So, when news had come around that the show was going to be shooting in Freedom to set up a backdoor pilot for another teen hero series, Janet had jumped at the news. And Eliza, needing a good diversion, had decided to come along. That's how she and close to a hundred other fans found themselves gathered outside a security cordon at Eclipse, which was closed down for the night for fight scene filming. So far, none of the stars had shown up, which meant there was naught but gossip and fan theory to fill the air. And cold. It was December in New Jersey, after all, and most of the fans were bundled up to deal with the weather. "Aren't you freezing?" Janet asked Eliza, who didn't even have her coat closed. Realizing she'd been distracted, she tightened up the jacket to make a show of things. "Guess I just had my mind on other things." "I can understand. Man, I hope I get some pics of Langstrom. This'll be great!" Yeah. High priority individuals, hundreds of attendants... this will be just fine.

GM Sunday, 14th December The High Steaks Casino / Restaurant Early Evening Sasha Shots was dressed to kill. And that was her aim. Not a shot through the heart. At least not the ballistic type. Her target was Geckoman, and she was dressed to make him swoon. It was a simple matter - she had poured herself into a hot little black cocktail dress of high expense, adorned herself with a few choice expensive jewels and jewelry, and applied her face paint. Sasha Shots was a journalist of average capabilities. What did make her valuable was a body to die for and a face to weep over. She was the new "face" of media, sweating pure sex appeal. And the corner of High Steaks, overlooking both the ground floor eating, and the raised area where gambling of all sorts took place, was hers. It was an opera booth of sorts. She checked her watch. Would Geckoman be late? The Daily Herald has publically invited him here today to give his "side" of the story, under the headline "Geckoman? Has he the Geckoballs?" The crowd below were packed, both gamblers and diners (and a large number who were both), all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the "Rogue Reptile!"

GM December 13th, Late Morning... Season of the Yule... Cheap and awful Christmas music played on a short loop inside Far Out!!! game store. Browsing the games, videos, and electronics was fun. Listening to Mariah Carey belting out what she only wanted for Christmas for the third time, less so. As Endevour browed, she was watched by a woman at the counter, who was clearly "cool", or trying to be, whilst serving customers. She was sat down, head phones in ears, with short black hair and vaguely blurred ethnicity. She had headphones in her ears, and a leather jacket, in almost complete contempt of staff rules. And she was studying Endevour intently...

December 5, 2014 2:00 pm Village of Mayberry, Sanctuary There was a light dusting of snow on the ground of Sanctuary as the visitors popped out of the hickory tree-shaped dimensional portal their host had conjured up for them, but the weather this afternoon was clear and cold. The place where they'd arrived looked like the edge of a large garden, with rows of berry bushes still fruiting nearby, and nut trees clearly ready for harvest all around them. Stesha was waiting for them as they stepped out, her cheeks pink despite the puffy brown fleece jacket with matching knit hat and mittens she was wearing. It looked a little like a cold weather version of her costume, if one squinted just right. "Hi guys!" she greeted them cheerfully. "It's so good to see you, feels like it's been forever! Ammy, come say hello!" There was a rustling behind a nearby tree, whose branches parted to allow Amaryllis to come rushing through them without so much as slowing down. She was bundled up like her mother, except all in pinks and purples, and her hat was askew on her green curls. "Hi!" she chirped, finally slowing down just before she plowed into Erik. "Merry Christmas!"

Freedom City, New Jersey December 3rd, 2014 Afternoon It always began with tentacles. That was a lie. It usually began with a poor fool who stumbled on some book that no soul should ever read or even consider. Such books usually had ideas that were not simply intriguing, but were actually infectious. The ideas were impossible to get out of your head, to bury under the everyday and dull with mundanity. They strove to get out, to be expressed, to be birthed into the material world in all their hideous glory. It was one of those hideous glories that burst out of a third-floor window, tearing a hole in the wall as it fell to the street below. It landed with a wet splat and shivered, curling back into itself as it gathered its glutinous mass together again. The creature seemed impossible, a squid-like mess of tentacles that lashed and pulled and moved without any apparent intelligence. Asli Sadik found herself staring at the monster with the rest of the crowd. When the first stirrings of panic swept through everyone else, though, she merely stared up at the hole in the building for a moment, her stomach sinking as realizations piled up all of a sudden. Still, there was an eldritch beast to deal with, first; she put her bag down and stepped forward and shaking her arms free as she gathered her power to her. “Okay, big boy,†she called out, doing her best to get the creature’s attention. “It’s time to leash you back up and take you home.â€

The sudden appearance of Etain in the small alleyway in downtown Hong Kong wasn't loud enough for there to be much noticed. Though Etain noticed immediately that it was MUCH smaller than she anticipated. She had landed sideways and had to squeeze along a bit uncomfortably around the chest but managed to get out dusting off her shawl as she did and arranging her skirt which she was graceful in this case at least didn't have a thick petticoat. Letting out a sigh she adjusted a pair of perfectly round brass framed glasses that sat on her nose and set the matching hat back straight as she found her way to the front of the thing. This was roughly the area she was said to look for before. Pulling her phone out from her purse she absently began to push through the screen with her thumb as she moved along the alley. She had to sniff for a few seconds. It smelled, more stuffy than most cities she was used too. Plus, she couldn't exactly speak the language. Not that it mattered, she just had to get some local currency if she wanted to ask that way, or she could just try to track magic activity in the area she supposed. Either way, she didn't think it would be easy to find the point where this plain touched what the one she was looking for, but she would certainly try regardless. So she started her search immediately. A few hours later. The small bar must of been ripe with what the Chinese considered gang members, not that Etain could tell with what they were chatting about. She might of asked Morgan for a translating rune, but he had locked himself away again on an experiment she was half certain would either turn him a strange color or temporarily render his arm insubstancial before it fell off. It was times like these she wished he'd let her help more. Anyway, it was much smokier than the outside and she sat at the bar talking with the bartender who knew maybe a little bit of English, but not actually enough to be more useful than ordering her drink. What was the drinking law in China again? She was pretty certain it was more lenient than America, but he didn't seem to care since she had currency. Either way, she knew there was magic here, even if she didn't know the chinese equivilant, well, okay, she found it, but it was still hard to explain through the dictionary ap on her phone. Really all this meant was that she needed to either be more direct, or she needed someone to help her smooth things over. It was with that thought as she took a swig of the scotch on the bar that there was a loud commotion outside that even if she couldn't see she knew was not a normal sound found in the city.

GM December 1st, Alabama Something was rotten in the fields of Alabama. They may have been fallow over the winter, but weeds and mushrooms had been plaguing one farmer, Hank Hicks, who was scratching his bald head. "I don't understan' it!" he complained to his farmhands. "The field is infested, ah say, its infested!" he said, plucking up a particularly putrid and poisonous mushroom. To his ill. Blisters formed on his fingers even as he spoke, making him drop the fungus. "Its that them sci-en-tist, came round with his fertilizer last month. Said it was h'ex-pear-hemental. Said anything could grow on the field after that. Guess he was right, after a fashion. I'm still gonna kick his ass when I see him next..." "Yeah...kick his ass!" laughed the farmhands, shaking pitchforks and hoes in unison. One week later, Alabama... The Black Knight appeared, in the midday sun, in the fields and folds on Alabama, with armour and sword in hand. Something here poisons the earth! came the scream from his sword, although who screamed it and how...would be a mystery. The stones of Stonehenge had called him once again. They had felt some unruly force in the earth. All stones were connected, somehow, and here, in Alabama, there was a stone circle of native american origin, undiscovered, covered in moss and roots, but present still, for those that knew of it. The Black Knight was disturbed to note sickly mushrooms and rotting moss on the ground beneath him, a sickly toxin that reddened his flesh...

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.

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."

There had been a spate of small power outages over the past several days. A slice of Freedom’s grid would blink off for as much as five seconds before blinking back on. A few blocks of one would go out, then come back. Then an entirely different neighborhood. The Fens. Lantern Hill. Southside. Lincoln. Even Bayview and Port Regal managed to get in on the act once or twice. It was weird, but Freedomites didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. It happened mostly in the dead of night. The power company said it’s nothing. More interesting things happened on a literally daily basis. And so on. Until Claremont Academy’s power “blinked†for the third total time, no one had taken much interest in the happenings at all. November 21, 2014. Claremont Academy. 11:45 PM It was a dark and stormy night. No, seriously. There was a pretty good thunderstorm going on in the skies of Freedom. Vonnie would normally be asleep by now. Class in the morning, and all that. But today was sweet, glorious Friday. He and LJ could text each other all night long. Or he could stealth over into the girls’ dorm and spend the night. His roommate slept like the dead, and her roomie slept like a rock. Or was one. LJ couldn’t tell, and Vonnie didn’t care enough to find out for himself. Yep, he was going over there and d#$% the consequences if he got caught. He strapped on his grapples, opened his window, and leapt out into space. A short grapple and climb sequence later, he was at her window. Wet and a bit windblown, but there. A few soft knocks after that, he was in her room and they were both sitting on her bed. Huh. Her roomie both slept like and was kind a rock. That was when the power “blinkedâ€. Somehow just short enough of an outage that the emergency power didn’t trigger and come on. Vonnie sighed. Third time in three days? His “this is a job for Samaritan†sense was tingling. LJ had a similar sense and gave him the “just go already†look. They started having a conversation based entirely on specific looks. <But he didn’t know where to start. Also pressing business here, yes?> <Vonnie, you know better.> Vonnie sighed quietly. “It’s not like New York. I was always first there. But there’s so many heroes in town, now I’m lucky if I’m fifth. I don’t know. I just feel kinda…extra, you know? Like I’m not needed, because someone else will always handle it.†LJ nodded. “So that’s why you’ve been patrolling less lately.†She grew thoughtful. Then she plucked him in the head. “Ow. What was that for?†“You’re overthinking stuff again. You’re not there for the dozen, hundred, thousand or more that don’t need you. You’re there for the one that does. Don’t give up so easy. It’s not like you.†Vonnie stood up. “Alright. But I’m telling you, somebody’s already on this. Probably have it sorted out before I even figure out what’s going on.†On that note, he opened LJ’s window and leaped out. Back in his own room, he grabbed his mask, shirt, and black hooded windbreaker(as his roomie continued sleeping like the dead) and made the most undramatic change from Vonnie Murray into Samaritan. Mask & shirt on. Jacket on, zipped up tight and hood up. This time, though, he’d go out the front door like a normal person. Yes indeed. Being just about the fastest non-speedster on campus did have its perks. He was out of the building before anyone had the chance to realize he was gone. He made it to the Gardens before running into anyone. He thought he recognized some of the group assembled under that big tree, if not all of them. He stripped off the mask, stuffed it into a jacket pocket, and pulled his hood tighter. “Hello?â€

GM 1st December, 2014 Stonehenge...United Kingdom... He was a ghost. Faint to the eye, yet with a chill, hard to see and yet with a howling wind behind him, he walked out of the Circle of Stonehenge with slumped shoulders and heavy foot. He was dressed in furs, with grizzled long hair and a grizzled long beard. Whilst he was hard to see, his eyes were pure black, and saw everything. "So, you felt my echo through the years and centuries? This place is a place of power, where such calls are spoken, and such calls are heard. Where time and space are with little meaning, but spirit and blood have much..." The Ghost stood stood tall, proud and grim in front of the Black Knight, who had heard the call on some deep level. "Something rises and stirs in the cold north. My kin who died there rest uneasy. I would have your help, for honours sake, the bones of might warriors should not be spoiled..."

GM November 10th. It wasn't terribly that problematic for Glamazon to arrive her, it was her balliwick. It was trafficking in some things of various value, arcane and money. But nothing big, but enough for Glamazon to run across it when the deal went south, and a gun fight started up in the back alley of a neighborhood populated by peoples from the various Balkan states. Much like the people involved. Easy peasy. A bunch of low level goons, thugs, and a couple middle men, with no real power to muster between them to slow her down and make this far, far worse than it could be. Especially since none of them had weapons that could even scuff her skin. Morale broke quickly, with cries of 'I am not paid enough for this!' or 'I am not going back!' Still, Glamazon was in the choke point for this particular alleyway, and the first one that got close enough ate a swing of her arm, knocking him down to the ground, his breath exploding out. One, wisely, got the idea of climbing up a fire escape, rather than attempt to face the Atlantean princess, as others scrambled for cover. However there wasn't that many, and she was an imposing physical specimen enough that it was hardly a problem, even when one managed to levied a shotgun to her face, and pulled the trigger. And her to not even blink, before solidly landing a front kick that sent him careening into a wall. Eventually there was only the one that had made it to the rooftop. Despite his lack of athletcism, he did a fistpump of victory, and ran from the edge of the roof. The sweaty man in a tracksuit didn't make it far before being flung back off the roof, and then dropping onto the top of the stereotypical panel van (seriously, why do criminals use those?) with a "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh-!" KA-THUMP! It was a dramatic introduction for the dark figure crouched over him. One who all but slithered off of the man, and the van, likely with a plan, as the figure carried herself (that part was clear once she had any bit of light on her) confidently. "Good. We get to meet." The woman said behind a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, as she turned to look at Thaelia, with that wary, dissecting gaze that the Atlantean girl was familiar with. Even if her classmate that possessed it had managed to be all but vanish from her presence these days.

Outside Freedom Hall June 7 2014 Early in the morning. The city is barely waking up. The sun isn't out yet, but hints of it can be seen on the horizon, as it change color. A lone figure, looking sick and weakened, slowly make it's way for Freedom Hall. Weakened by the effects of the serum leaving his body, Anton Bienh nevertheless continue toward his destination, while holding his weapon, in case the vampire hunter was still on his trail. He suspected that was the case, as one could almost follow him by smell alone, a side effect of having spent time inside the sewers. Once at the gate, just outside Freedom Hall, he finally collapsed, shaking. "Come on, answer me!" He shouted, as he started to hallucinate, suddenly thinking he was near the Freedom Hall of his timeline, which was an underground bunker. "?$#(*! Come on guys, open the bunker, open it, they're...they're..." Bloodline blinked and remember he was at a different point in time. "Right. I'm here to seek aid. This isn't the Freedom League I know."

St. Sebastian's Church Monday, December 1st 6:52 PM Eric LaCroix wasn't really much for church. He wasn't an agnostic or anything - when you'd seen all the things he'd seen, and even gone up to Heaven once, it was a bit hard to just bury your head in the sand and pretend that there was no higher order to things. His position was both political and sentimental. For one thing, when you dealt with as many entities that claimed divinity as he did, it looked a bit weird to hitch your cart to one horse - and even weirder to hitch it to two or three. For another thing, these days, he didn't really find the community in church that he had as a child. Back then, it was coming together to proclaim the mystery of faith. But nowadays, it didn't really seem like much of a mystery. But there were some things that still drew his attention towards the church from time to time. Like, say, arriving back in the West End after a bracing day of work, only to find a crowd of people and three news vans outside of St. Sebastian's. Night had already fallen, and the New Jersey winter was blowing hard, but that wasn't deterring people. Eric pushed his way through the crowd, hearing psnippets along the way. "Can you believe...?" "...a trick, maybe, or..." "...no, a miracle, don't you see, it's..." After a good few minutes, Eric finally got a glimpse through the open doors. He didn't get much farther, as a security cordon had already been set up. But in one of the eaves of the church, he could see a state of the Virgin Mary, her arms spread wide in supplication. And tears of blood running from her eyes. Something about the miraculous sight tickled the back of Eric's eyes. There was something going on here, something beyond trickery or hoaxes. But was it really a miracle? Maybe, once the crowds had thinned, he'd be able to come back and give it a closer look...

Freedom College, Harbridge Dorm Common Room Monday, December 1, 2014 3:59 AM Thanksgiving had come and gone, finals season was on the horizon, and no one was forgiving. There weren't many finals coming Eliza's way - half her classes were working on the idea of term papers and final presentations. But the other half did have some sort of exam component to the home stretch, and she wanted to be ready. And something about the encounter with the muggers on the night's patrol had left her wired and unable to get to sleep. With little else to do, she decamped to the common room and assembled flash cards from her textbooks, the TV blaring on in front of her. "Feeling restless?" Eliza looked up - it was Samantha, one of the RAs. She was clad in a bathrobe and clutching a mug of cocoa. "Your first finals season. It happens to all of us. Don't worry, you'll survive mostly intact." "Yeah, well," she said, "helps to make sure." Samantha plopped down on the couch behind her as she kept assembling cards on early playwrights and their works. "You usually watch TV when you can't sleep?" "Helps to lull. Always been hypnotic, since I was young. Never seen this one before, though..." Temperance looked up at the screen. A cheery yellow font advertised Five by Five!, backed up by a jaunty riff with trumpets. Going by the opening credits, it was a sitcom about a military family of five growing up in somewhat cramped on-base housing. "Maybe it's one of the short-lived ones," she said, as two of the family's kids flinched after a chance encounter with the gunnery sergeant descended into wordless shouting. "Sometimes they do that. Package all the forgotten classics of yesteryear --" 'Yeah, well, it looks interesting," said Samantha. "Looks like it would've been early Eighties, so while 'Nam was still hanging over everyone's head. Trying to normalize and lighten up the military while the shadow of a bloody conflict still hung in the popular consciousness, not unlike that Enlisted show last season - sorry, Media Studies student. This just comes naturally." Eliza smiled, then turned back to the screen. The credits didn't seem to be ending yet, even though the opening montage had now segued to the father in a live fire exercise. Something seemed to flicker on the screen, a motion out of the corner of the frame. "Wait. Did you see that?" "See what? I didn't --" And then, to that same jaunty Eighties soundtrack, the soldier right next to the father went down in a blaze of bullets, blood gushing from the wounds. The father turned in panic, only to take a round right in the temple. "Oh, Jesus!" As the music played on, the base was attacked by unseen foes, dressed in regalia Temperance didn't recognize. In that same montage style, the base was sacked, the soldiers and their families taken out one by one... and Eliza swore she could see something flickering through the static, lurking behind the scenery... "Change the channel!" Samantha reached for the remote, just as the wife's hand touched the camera, leaving a bloody handprint as she slid out of view. The channel flipped... to an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, already in progress. As if testing the waters, Samantha flipped back to find a rerun of Friends where Five by Five! had been. "...the **** was that?" "Probably some sort of prank. Like that creepypasta stuff that goes around the Internet." But Eliza couldn't shake the sensation that she had seen something in the broadcast. Something guiding the imagery...

Jameson Airport North Freedom, New Jersey 2:24 PM Wednesday November 26th, 2014 Normally when Erick Sloane was speeding through traffic at break neck speed it was while narrowly avoiding gunfire in pursuit of some sort of mafioso. Today, he was actually combating traffic for an entirely different reason. He was running late and it would be a tight squeeze to arrive on time. Erick had somehow found himself oversleeping despite normally pulling late nights. His barely street legal Porsche 918 was put to the test as it raced to the airport to pick up his guest. Erick didn't want to leave her waiting at Jameson of all places, as it was less of a rest stop than Jordan International. If not for the likelihood of attracting attention to himself, he would have taken his new even fancier mode of transportation. But, there was plenty of time to show that off later. One rushed car ride later, with thankfully no police stops along the way, Erick found himself on the edge of the curb waiting for incoming arrivals. There was a brief moment in which he felt like an overly expensive taxi as he looked around the curbside pickup. Searching for the VIP guest he had invited to spend the holiday with him. Did your flight get in? If he was waiting on someone else he might've considered texting or calling first.

Centauri Prime, Lor Orbital City near Alpha Centauri 2 November 14, 2014 (Terran Calander) Lor Timemark 1316.2 (mid-morning) The news of the destruction of Lor-Van had spread quickly throughout the Republic and surrounding space beyond. In the days that had followed, refugees had poured into Centauri Prime and the other orbital cities around Alpha Centauri 2, beings displaced from a number of planets by the advance of the Communion. As if the increased crowds in the city had not made things difficult enough, a large number of the Lor security forces in the region had been transferred to help counter the Communion threat. For Yukiko, the influx of beings into the orbital city had meant an increase in her freelance work, as various systems were pushed beyond their normal limits by the increased population. She also found side “hero†work increase some as well, as the additional numbers of beings coupled with the decrease in security forces had led to an increase in criminal activity. Today the young Inghetat was making her way through the mid-morning crowd along the main pedestrian walkway through the central plaza of the orbital city. Several small buildings lined either side of the plaza, filled with various shops and food establishments. The plaza was brightly lit, a massive transparent dome set over this section of Centauri Prime, allowing abundant natural light into the section of the city from the system's star. Larger buildings loomed around the plaza, some rising up near the top of the dome. So far the day had been rather slow paced for Yukiko. She still had a few hours before she had to report for a new assignment, so she had had time to run a few errands this morning.

November 26, 2014 Southside "Ugh." As the thunder rolled overhead, Fast-Forward stopped under a bus stop to change. "I hate running in the rain," he muttered to himself, "my whole front is soaked!" But it was less than a second, literally, for him to be in a fresh outfit. Sitting on the shelter's bench, he took out his hand-written directions, having as usual spurned advice to put directions on his phone. Don't need to carry that thing anyway. "OK, the guy is right here, and man, this neighborhood went to the dogs!" Southside had been a favorite hangout of his back in the day when he'd been young and stupid (and also awesome!) and this particular street had had the best spots. Vinny's is now a gay bar with no pub food and the old newstand is gone...oh man, this was the place where we got that costume of Paige's that - well, he certainly didn't mind his wife overhearing those thoughts (if she happened to be listening), but they certainly weren't productive for what was supposed to be a business conversation. "All right," he said aloud, "this place looks a little hinky, but magic people are always a little hinky." Not gonna burgle some guy's house unless he's a bad guy, so I'll wait till I know who's in there before I search the place. Phantasmo sounds like a legit name for a wizard, probably. Rechecking his black and white jumpsuit, cool shades, and high-topped sneakers to make sure he looked not just like a superhero but like a totally radical superhero, he headed over and zipped into the abandoned store at super-speed.

November 25, 2014 5:32 PM There was something horrible up in space. That's mainly what Eliza knew right now. The thought had been turning over in her head for the past few weeks. Something had utterly destroyed a planet. And Sharl had been there to witness it. For the past few weeks, she and him had been talking. It had helped to deal with the crushing existential dread that came with everything, on both their parts. It didn't necessarily help with classes, but somehow, she was having a little trouble focusing on Intro to Lit when dealing with the possibility that whatever had destroyed Lor-Van might be coming their way. They'd kissed that night. And while it had been pretty good, she was still wondering. What next? Sharl had been talking about getting back together, and she wasn't adverse to it. And she'd seen weirder splits in relationships in her time, ones that had managed to weave back together. But... was this what they needed? Or what they wanted, in the face of a greater threat? This was why she'd picked out the Bean Bar near Freedom College. They needed to talk. And hopefully, they'd get all the answers by the time it was done.

Earth ND - Freedom City, Some time ago... Some random café... "I tried to keep the visions away." The man says, while sitting in a coffee, his old hand tighly gripping his hot coffee cup. With a shaking hand, he raised it to his lips. A slurping noise soon followed, as he sloppily ingested the liquid. "I really tried." He said, in an old, broken voice, the voice of a weary old man who doesn't know what to do with life anymore. "Come on, dad." His daughter said, worried about him and rightfully so. "Just...just go tell the doctor, he'll get you some new medecine or something." She reached out to touch his hand but he backed away, with a look of fear in his eyes. With his hand still shaking, he placed the coffee cup back on the table, making a loud noise. "I'm not, crazy. I'm...not...crazy." He whispered. "It hapenned, I've seen it happen. I can see things, things I can't see with my old, sickly eyes. I can see worlds; I can see shining cities, I can see horrific abyss. I see them in my dream, clearly. Clearer than anything else." The old man said. He knew he sounded crazy, but also knew he wasn't crazy. Years ago he would have believed his own madness, but now the world has gone mad. The super men were real. Gods walked the earth. One old man with prophetic dream wasn't so strange, now was it? "It started, I don't know, probably more than a decade ago. I was at the hospital, you know, my cancer? All I wanted was to survive, so I could keep telling my grandchildren stories; that's all I wanted. And I got that, I got better but something changed in me, that day." He look at his daughter, who had an expression of unease on her face. "There's only one word that can apply to what hapenned to me, it's what they call it on TV, on Radio." He said, as his daughter shook her head in denial. The old man leaned in and said, in a hushed voice; "Breakout." She shook her head, in denial, with tears in her eyes. "No, d-dad, you're just sick! Go to a doctor!" He slammed his fists on the table, causing her to step up in shock and surprise. Her father had never shown any signs of violence, having been a peaceful man all his life; surely, his behavior were the sign of dementia and old age. "I'm not sick! I'm not crazy! I've had a vision! Something...something terrible is going to happen and I have to stop it!" "Even if you were right, what are you going to do about it? You...you don't have powers, right? I mean, not like them." the daughter said, trying to make an effort to listen to her old father, in the slim chance he was actually right. "You're right." The old man replied, taking another sip of his coffee. "I can't fly, I can't summon fire from my hands; all I can do is see things. Other places. The past, the future. Strange places. That's why...that's why I have to go there, look for answers." Only he knew what he was talking about; strange realms beyond the senses of ordinary people. "What place, dad? What...where?" "A world of fairy tales." The old man said, chuckling at his own insanity. Despite his diehard belief in how it was real, he still had those small moments of doubt. "I know, I know...it sound crazy, we've talked about crazyness before. The thing is, I've seen them in my dreams; beautiful, imaginary cities you can visit. Somewhere, in there, I'll find an answer. A way to stop the disaster that is coming." "If you can...um...see the future, then doesn't that make it impossible to change?" She then, mere moments later, realized she was actually buying into her father's senility. There was no way she could buy into this, yet here she was, believing him. Perhaps it was simply a matter of faith in him. He had always been sensible, why would he be crazy all of a sudden? "I've seen it happen before; sometimes, when I try to act I can change the outcome. Sometimes good, sometimes bad." He explained, trying to reassure her that his quest wouldn't be in vain. The old man stood up and placed the chair back where it belonged, leaving the half-finished coffee where it was. __ Later... An appartment in the North End... Sitting in his chair, the old man stared at the shot of whisky he was holding. He wasn't much of a heavy drinker, far from it. Just the occasional shot here and there, especially when seeing old friends but right now, he felt like he was going to need it as he prepared to do something he had never done before, tapping into his full powers as a paranormal. "I'm just an old man." he said to himself. "But who knows? I might find something to help me on the other side." The old man swallowed his shot of whisky. "Phew, well; time to feel like I'm a youngster again. Diving into the unknown, that should be something." Briefly he turned to look at the open TV, showing the image of a young Paranormal, who was making a name for herself using her powers, perhaps for good or perhaps for fame. Briefly, she shook hand with people in the crowd, before fist-bumping someone in particular in said crowd. Another teenager-young woman. Without exchanging a word, it seemed the two knew each others, but the old man didn't pay more attention to it as he had began to use his powers to 'open a path'. Around him, the appartment shifted, as if liquid. In fact, the walls appeared as if they were melting. Soon enough, they liquified. Rocks and plants began to grow on the walls and the floor and the ceilling morphed into a starry sky. "Amazing..." He said, with a sense of wonder he hadn't felt in decades. Step by step, the old man walked toward his destination, deep inside the Imageria... __ Earth-Prime - Freedom City, November 29 2014 North End Interdimensional kerfuffles were really not Cho's area of expertise, not by a long shot. Not that she really had an area of expertise; mostly she just punched stuff and that was all she needed when it came to fighting crime and evil. As it hapenned, she and Stronghold hapenned to be in the area when...something...was apparently summoned or appeared in the North End. Some eerie, supernatural beast, of ill-defined shape. "It's getting weak!" Cho shouted at Stronghold. "We can take it down together!"

Southside, Freedom City, New Jersey Friday April 4, 2014 11:31 PM The weeks since Foreshadow had encountered some of the shadowy mystery man's men and Sureshot in Southside had been busy for the costumed crime fighter. The continued disruption of the status quo in areas of the neighborhood had kept him busy, trying to help curb the violence that was erupting between displaced gangs and other criminal elements. Some of his time had also been spent in trying to track down leads on Doctor Zero, the former Soviet superspy that had evaded capture during the incident at the Winter Olympics. There had been a few more brushes with the mystery man's men, who were well trained and equipped in comparison to those being displaced. But none had brought Foreshadow any closer to their boss than the prior ones, the crime fighter's normally reliable post-cognitive abilities continuing to fall short. And so he had needed to continue to focus on the more traditional methods of investigation to try to make some headway. Foreshadow had managed to track down the source of the military grade weapons the mystery man's men were using, Grigory Salnikov, an arms dealer with strong ties to military units in several of the breakaway Russian states. But knowing that Salnikov was providing the arms and ammunition was one thing, actually finding Salnikov himself proved to be yet another difficult task. But persistence and determination eventually paid off for the costumed vigilante, and he had learned that Salnikov was attending a show at an underground nightclub in the area of Southside that bordered the Boardwalk. And so Foreshadow sat on a rooftop a couple of blocks from the site of the underground show. The building was an old, multi-story warehouse. Most of the windows had been boarded up or painted over, making it hard to see what might be going on inside. The event could be using any one of the many floors, or maybe even a good number of them. A small crowd was gathered around what had once been the back loading dock for the warehouse, with several large bouncers there to control when people were able to get in. Foreshadow could see a number of other security personnel on the rooftop and at one of the corners of the building he could see from where he was.

GM Czanarchy Lincoln, Freedom City, New Jersey 12:24 AM Saturday November 8th, 2014 The little roadhouse sitting between 24th and 28th street, doesn't seem to gather fresh customers all too often. Their brilliant neon alcohol advertising signs shine brightly through the cover of darkness and the live music just sets a certain ambiance that lets everyone know that it was a hot destination. The problem? The unrelenting reflective glow of the choppers lined up directly in front of the establishment, and the even more unrelenting looks of the machines' roughneck looking owners. Czarnachy was not just a fine dining establishment. It was an outlaw biker bar. Known for its fair share of altercations. One simply didn't enter Czanarchy without expecting a little bit of trouble. It was human nature to avoid altercations that would lead to obvious escalation of force. Especially as the men and women who frequented the establishment had no reservations about doing just that. Allegedly However, on this night something peculiar occurred. According to eyewitness accounts, a group of five women clad in leather arrived on the scene. Armed with chains and knives, this female biker gang taunted the local patrons until a bar wide brawl began. The leader of the the female gang stabbed a portly looking man in the throat. In her wake the only thing left behind of the man was a pile of ash. In the commotion the bar was set on fire and is still very much in such a state according to the various means the information is spreading (The news, police scanners, etc.)

Silberman's Books The West End, Freedom City, New Jersey Tuesday, November 4th, 2014 11:16 AM GM Inside With the holiday season in full swing, Silberman's Books was looking at an upturn in their clientele. The morning had been so busy that Lynn hadn't had a moment to get off her feet with the curious flow of customers. There was one oddity though. A town car had parked directly in front of the store during opening hours according to Kiki. The passengers of said vehicle had not left the vehicle. But, there was the occasional noticeable stare in the storefront's direction. If the vehicle wasn't the sort the rich and priveledge would rent out for travel, one could reasonably surmise they might have been casing the store for a robbery. As it were, they were just creepy. Lynn noticed a Porsche, pull up behind the town car before her view was obscured by a lanky teenage boy with unkempt hair and poorly folded clothes. Shuffling his feet, the boy would open his mouth to ask her a question. "What sort of horror books do you have?"