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GM La Isla de la Reina Venerado Friday, September 5, 2014 4:20 PM La Isla de la Reina Venerado is a country rife with turmoil. The local dictatorship's only real competition in maintaining its power has been the foreign corporate interest seeking to gain control in either its medicinal advances or the illegal drug market. The island's illicit drug market is the ire of many a hero whose quest to end their local drug imports run into a wall with getting cooperation from the island. It is the sort of place that tends to shy away from foreign aid. That was until the category 5 hurricane hit. Hurricane Dave was a small highly focused storm that seemingly would only hit the small area of the Atlantic that housed this small island nation. As hurricanes are categorized by wind speed and not size, many wrote off the danger as it would not hit any truly populous land masses. Which did nothing to help to the solitary island in its plight. Not prepared for the catastrophic damage that would occur after ten hours the government finally sent out a request for foreign assistance. By the time heroes finished braving the 186 mph winds, it was estimated that the tropical cyclone was in its final hour of life. But the relief effort had only just begun.

Silberman's Books. Sunday, February 8th, 2015. 10:00am A small printed sign was taped to the inside of the front door window: CLOSED FOR STORE MEETING Shop owner Lynn Epstein was nervously pacing up and down in front of the the bar, her staff mostly seated around the main table in the middle of the sales floor; due to the step up into the older part of the store, this meant they were all looking down on her somewhat. Great; I already feel like I'm on trial. Kiki came from around from behind the bar, occasionally casting a reassuring look towards her friend and employer as she carried a tray with coffee and doughnuts to the table; she was the only one who fully knew what was going on, though some of the others might have a few guesses. Clearing her throat, Lynn finally began. "Uh, hey guys; thanks for coming in a little early today. I don't know how long this will take or...anything, really, so I figured it would be best if we just...well..." Her employees shifted uneasily and exchanged concerned glances; normally Lynn was not this tongue-tied. Sensing their nervousness, the petite brunette suddenly held up her hands. "Nobody's getting fired, if that's what you're thinking, and the store's not closing, either; all of you still have a job." "Where's Mrs. N," asked Cred0; typically he'd work with her on Sunday afternoons. This led to new murmurs of concern; the beloved Jewish grandmother was elderly, so it was certainly possible- Lynn rubbed her face and sighed. "No, Mrs. Nussbaum is fine, that's not why we're here." She sagged back against the bar for a few seconds, suddenly feeling very, very old; but then she took a deep breath and seemed to reinflate. With great effort, she met everyone's gaze, one after the other. "Look, I have a confession to make; several, actually. We've been working together side by side for six months now; we might not all be best friends, but I think we've bonded a bit, right? And some of you might have seen things or heard things, and I think it's time to set the record straight. Because friends don't keep secrets from each other." She paused, closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm...not human." She grimaced and spread her arms wide. "There, I said it."

GM June 12th, 2014, 4.45 PM, Half-Moon Summit Park, west Springsvale, Arizona "Found it like this. Last week." said Jane Aqui as she climbed out of the truck, the middle-aged park ranger tilting her broad brown hat a little farther from her eyes, the better to squint at the ungainly, smelly heap in front of her. She'd kept a polite few feet from the new arrivals since first meeting them, the odd crew seeming to get a little more awe even than the usual outside the world's super-capital. Even the evidently taciturn Jane had dug a little deeper than the usual "Can you really do magic?" that seemed to come up every time they were recognized. Which admittedly had been twice. Springsvale wasn't much. At the best of times, and especially when perched a few hundred feet above the valley the town stood in, it was compact and industrious, a collection of pale houses, a brightly-painted school and dark warehouses, offices and factories hugging miles of the scrub-rich eastern bank by a small, fast-running, very blue river, the town's dusty road running south to the I-15 highway only a few miles distant. A few bits of suburbia spilled away from the river, looking very much like fingers on some skeletal hand. Somewhere behind them, far out of sight past the hills, lurked the rugged Grand Canyon's eastern end. Far below, another truck pulled into town, one of dozens they'd seen since getting to Springsvale forty-seven minutes ago. Small ponds and rivlets spilled away from the main Springwater, but beside those distractions it ran as direct as compass point. They weren't there for the sights, though. At least, not the natural, or man-made ones. They had been called here to deal with the giant snake lying in a dead, mouldering heap in front of them, surrounded by sickly-glowing runes. A small camp of white tents had sprung up in another clearing about 50 yards away, from Phoenix University judging by the emblem a few of the laughing, chatting twenty-somethings and dignified-looking elders sported, and the comically grand white-red flag. The heat and wind hadn't been kind to the corpse, it was bleached enough to disguise whatever color it had been before, and was now a feeble yellow-brown. It was lying on its back, belly cut open and resting a gaping, sunken head on its coils. It was already sagging from decay. They had been able to smell it long before they saw it. Ranger Aqui cleared her throat "Gathered you folks knew about this...kind of thing. Heard it from those kids who do that show about the town. It's not normally that strange. 'Least not giant-snake-strange." She turned her squint to the ghoulishly-painted necromancer, the robed witch, and the biker-looking woman with the stick "So..." her squint turned quizzically to the deceased serpentine object of their distress "...what's this mean?"

Almost a week after the unfortunate incident with the sabotaged plane, Naomi finally received a summons to ArcheTech headquarters. She'd filed exhaustive reports, of course, been debriefed by her supervisor, Vithya Naganathan, as had Mike and Rory, her ground team, and Keegan her backup pilot. She'd had an extensive physical that included checks of vision, hearing, reflexes and proprioception, which had been a little bit interesting given some of the things she hadn't known her body could do until recently. But all of that had been done at the test facility at Lonely Point, a place she was already familiar and comfortable with. Today's summons was to the tower in Hanover, where Naomi hadn't been since she was hired. The lobby of the imposing building was not so bad; sure it was very large, but its grandeur was softened by the fact that it was full of schoolchildren exploring displays on the wonder and excitement of renewable energy and recycling. The noise and bustle of kids on a field trip was distracting until she made her way to the relative quiet of the horseshoe-shaped front desk, where an extremely efficient-looking young woman with an earpiece scanned Naomi's ID badge with a palm-held scanner. "You're meeting with Miss Americana," she told Naomi tonelessly. "You're cleared for top-floor access. Please follow the arrows." She gestured, and a line of green arrows lit up along the midline of the wall, heading for a bank of elevators. "Have a nice day."

Aboard the Solar Dawn The Parrin system, between the Lor Republic and Stellar Khanate Situated in an expanse of unclaimed space between the Lor Republic and the Stellar Khanate, the Parrin system was home to a native civilization that did all they could to retain a position of neutrality with both major space powers. The Parrin engaged in trade with both, had envoys with both powers and had treaties with both powers. Among the ways the Parrin worked to stay on good terms with both powers was by offering services to passing ships from both the Republic and the Khanate. One of those included the Solar Dawn, a casino situated at the edge of an inner system asteroid belt which ringed the system's large red sun. Positioned on the outer edge of the asteroid belt, the Solar Dawn had breath taking views of the belt set against the blazing light of the star. But of course, most who came here paid little attention to the views, focused instead on the various games of chance that were available. But Oskar Otto was not one of those. Today the displaced human was on the Solar Dawn to meet Nerrit H'aan, one of his old contacts about a possible job. Otto's involvement with Nerit went back to when he was still working for Zaul Zeno, and the trader had maintained his connections with Otto even after Zeno had disappeared. Otto had made his way through one of the main casino floors, crowded with beings from all over the parsec. He had even spotted a group of Lor soldiers in a dice game with a group of Khanate troops in the crowd. Climbing a staircase, Otto reached a restaurant/bar area overlooking the casino floor he had just passed through. The area was up against one of the walls of the station, which was made of tall transparent alloys that allowed for a clear view of the asteroid field, the Parrin star sitting beyond, its red light casting an unusual glow within the station. The communication for Nerrit indicated he would be waiting for Otto in a booth on this level. Elsewhere on the station Ana Plonsky had spent a bit of time since their arrival at the Solar Dawn looking to see if she might be able to obtain some spare parts for the Xeno. But while the station did have some basic facilities for ships docked there, it was far from a full service repair facility, and had little in the way of parts suppliers aboard. So, it had not be long before she abandoned her search and instead made her way to one of the bars aboard the station....

GM Leaf Fields Inc. Hanover, Freedom City New Jersey Monday, June 23, 2014 8:48 PM Leaf Fields Inc was far from an industry leader in any field. With the only real significant technological advancements they have made being found on television ads. The sheer number of products that LFI was able to engineer had at least made their profit margins very profitable. Then came their first real breakthrough. The Gravimatrix armor. A power armor that was designed to allow the wearer to manipulate gravitons to control the force of gravity within a limited radius around the suit. The potential applications were numerous. LFI would have been put on the map. If only the suit hadn't been stolen two weeks ago. There wasn't a single shred of evidence of whom the thief was. And they had made sure to completely wreck the R&D lab in the process of stealing the suit. The Freedom City police were on the case of course. Ever vigilant in their search. But, no one had so much as found a breadcrumb leading back to the robber. Then the robberies started. Several members of Freedom City's morally questionable yet sufficiently affluent elite found their homes broken into. The signs of a tremendous force ripping even the most tremendous safe apart as if it were thin sheets of paper. Anything stolen could not be reported to the police, thanks to the legal ramifications that the owners would face. Those with the right ear to the ground noticed a sudden influx of anonymous donations to the Freedom City orphanages and various charities after every robbery. The LFI only focused on the fact that they could easily recognized the signs of their own technology at work. With the police at a dead end, they began to seek assistance elsewhere. Letting it be known through more unsavory elements that they were willing to pay for the return of their suit. Whereas, those whom had the insult of being stolen from had more ruthless intention. Going so far as to hire out criminal elements to eliminate the thief and any competition in the pursuit of recovering all their profits and sending a message. The situation soon became hard for AEGIS to ignore tasking a field agent on to the case. Samantha Vance, otherwise known as Kit, had found out. And Nevermore had come upon the knowledge while making a grown man realize the forgotten sensation of pure terror from several stories above the pavement.

February 14, 2014 Trevor Hunter lifted his girlfriend's feet with one hand to make room for himself on the loveseat before replacing them over his lap and handing her the steaming mug of hot chocolate he'd brought over from the adjacent kitchenette. In a fit of theater that went above his usually limited talent for food preparation he'd drizzled a swirl of melted dark chocolate around the whipped cream topping, taking advantage of the prodigious amount of confection they'd gathered in preparation for the four day long weekend they'd carved out for themselves. The room they'd settled into for the late afternoon was one of the less used in his family's manor, the short couch and the rest of the furniture looking like it had last been replaced sometime in the 1970s but it was the only room on the second floor with a fireplace, crackling away pleasantly now, and it had an extra touch of privacy compared to the larger rooms of the ground level. A cart that looked suspiciously like it might have been repurposed from carrying trays of beakers had been laden with a bountiful selection of fresh fruits and picnic foods while the side table that supported his own mug of black coffee also featured what had certainly been chemistry equipment before beginning a new career as a chocolate fondue pot. With a silent, happy sigh, Trevor settled in and lifted his cup to take a slow sip. It was nice to just have some quiet time with Erin for once, without some impending crisis hanging over their heads.

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...

GM Monday, October 20th... AEGIS Headquaters, Federal Building, Downtown... Agent Kawene left AEGIS in a nervous state, dressed innocently in a non descript suit and nondescript tie, but perspiring more than he should now the heat had left the city with the fall. He had a look, that could not be concealed, of concern. He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to think of his family, and his daughter who would be visiting. But his concerned lined his face and could not be ironed out. Hailing a cab, he made his way back home, drumming his suitcase... As the Cab headed home... Agent Huggit was briefing Argonaut deep below the Federal building of AEGIS, and was just as concerned. "The man's name is Henry Hand. Ex military, joined AEGIS a year ago. Not the best agent, but not the worst. We had some..concerns...about his psychological profile. Impulsive, poor empathy, thrill seeking. Still, an effective man" Huggit was an older man, grey haired, thin, a face of experience and caution. Whilst concerned, he had weathered worse in AEGIS. He had seen more crisis that most men had had hot dinners. "He was exposed to a Daka Booster. We don't know where the technology came from, and where it came from...thats a story for another time and a higher clearance level. A device that extracts the energy from Daka crystals in fast and unpredictable ways. It bends space, bends dimensions. And, it seems, had bent Agent Hand..." "Hand has since been acquiring a multitude of devices. We need to stop him, before he gets his hands on anything truly dangerous..." He flicked through to the file on Agent Kawena. "And here is our bait. Agent Kawena. He knew Agent Hand, was even friendly with him. And we have arranged for Agent Kawena to look after our special items. We hope Hand will make his move on his friend. And we hope you can be around to stop him. And protect Agent Kawena..."

The West End, Freedom City, New Jersey Monday, December 8th, 2013 5:16 PM The cool Winter breeze did nothing to slow down the liveliness in the West End. The spiritual epicenter of Freedom City had a penchant for celebration that was not to be taken lightly. Today in particular the streets were filled to the brim with exquisite wooden floats in celebration of Bodhi Day, also known as the Day of Enlightenment or Vesak in which Buddha experienced spiritual enlightenment. The community welcomed any and all to come and participate in the celebration. There were stands as far as the eye could see with vendors marketing exotic foods an trinkets. On the floats performance artists could be seen wowing the crowd with their various talents. Including some mystics whom had prepared a spell for a firework like display to light up the streets without leaving any residue. There were various pamphlets being passed abound to educate people in the meaning of the celebration while wishing upon them good fortune. All in all it was to be a joyous party. Or at least that was the scene before everything turned to utter chaos. An orange float shaped like a demonic looking cat had suddenly joined the parade. Laughing mischieviously with a cheshire grin plastered on its face, the cat would begin to grow exponentially in size before finally popping like a balloon. Goo had covered every inch of the scene with the unfortunate onlookers drenched in the monster's gooey insides. Including the two unfortunate teenage heroines whom had found themselves at the scene.

JAL First Class Cabin, 40,000 ft above the Pacific Despite what people thought the life of a music journalist was not a glamorous one. Many nights in grotty bars and clubs listening to mediocre to downright bad bands. But today was not one of those day for the “lucky†Carmen Canto as she sat in First Class enjoying all that it had to offer. The reason for this lucky break? It seems that the reclusive Japanese Idoru singer Sanshain KinpÅge had suddenly agreed to give an interview. But she insisted that it be in person (if that counted with an AI) and had asked for Carmen by name. Yeah Sanshain’s bubblegum pop might not be Carmen style, but who would turn down a first class flight to Tokyo?

A road of Languedoc, 25th May 1814 With France still reeling after a fairly tumuncious few years the highways and byways of France were not always safe to traverse, especially this far from the City of Lights. Bandit’s were common, many the leftover scum of them various armies that traipsed across France. Right now four such individuals were bearing down on a carriage, who were reluctant to stop, to attempt to rob the carriages passengers of their hard earned gains. Unfortunately for them the passengers inside were far from the normal travellers on this road.

The Franklins had money, and half the city knew it. They didn’t live fancy. They didn’t have a big house, or any servants. They lacked even so much as an automobile, preferring Freedom City Transit instead. They lived in Southside, and very quietly at that. Sadie, Thomas, and their lovely little girl Hannah were, for all intent and purposes, anonymous and nobody. The problem was that Thomas’s family members, though deceased, were all unrepentant though relatively minor criminals and had been for generations. Thomas himself managed to stay out of it, but with no one left to inherit the family money upon his father’s death, Thomas was stuck with a substantial amount of illegally gained cash. This alone earned him a jaundiced look from Freedom’s criminal underworld, but the exact amount of money remained unknown, so no one took action. Yet. Sadie’s unknown great uncle dropping dead and leaving her a similarly large amount of legal money provided a fine opportunity for the couple to legalize the extra cash. Unfortunately, it also provided a fine opportunity for someone to kidnap Hannah for ransom. Going to the cops was not an option - see illegal cash. This was where NPC Investigations came in. August 30, 2014. 1:45 AM. Southside. Penny Nihara simply stood on the roof of Rocket Records. The store was closed for the holiday, and wouldn’t reopen until Tuesday. She tapped her foot, impatient. The heroes were late. She had done everything but send up a flare. She briefly considered doing just that, but discarded the idea as she was too close to the airport. Even accounting for skepticism, someone should have shown up by now. The message was simple enough. “A young girl has been kidnapped. I need your help.†Penny had it relayed by various means, as well as the location to meet. Yes…any minute now. Honestly…she was almost surprised that a hero wasn’t on the job to begin with. Almost meaning that after a few years of doing this job, she knew that an awful lot of small things slipped past Freedom’s champions. The locally focused types did what they could, but ultimately it was a numbers game. There just wasn’t enough of them, and likely never would be. Freedom had the curious habit of becoming more dangerous the more heroes patrolled it. Ah, there one was now. Good.

GM Friday, January 23rd. 2:30 PM. Jamal first realized something was wrong when a colobus monkey stole his wallet. The zookeeper chased after the little fellow with an exasperated sigh. Escapes were unusual, but he'd been around long enough to've seen a few; he'd just corral the monkey and have one of the others grab a catch-all pole. But the screaming that started a moment later, coming from the direction of the lakeside cafe, made him pause. There was a school group in there, he knew, and they'd probably get pretty excited by escaped monkeys. But this sounded like real panic, and that worried him. The wallet could wait. He dashed back up the path in time to catch sight of Missy the hyena jumping on a thirty-something guy in a polo shirt, the fifth graders behind him screaming their lungs out. The zookeeper's blood ran cold - two simultaneous escapes was too much of a coincidence, especially in Freedom City. Charging forward, he kicked Missy in the side, then punched her in the snout when she turned to bite him. Whining, she backed off, and Jamal looped his arms under the teacher's and dragged him out into the dining area. "Get into the bathrooms and lock the doors!" he yelled, and the kids scrambled to obey. He looked behind him in time to see his coworker Shawn, his long black in utter disarray and tears of panic streaming down his face, being dragged up the steps and through the doors of the reptile house by a boa constrictor. "What the flying..." And then a spider monkey stole his watch, bounding away as Missy returned with friends. "Come on, man," he told the teacher, tapping the side of his face. "C'mon, you gotta wake up. Now would be good. Now would be real good!" Snarling, teeth bared, the hyenas began to close in... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The third graders were starting to cry, and the antelope wouldn't let them leave. Tammy had tried everything to get it to move. She'd run at it, yelling "shoo!", and it'd just stared at her. She'd thrown food behind it, bits of carrots and animal crackers they'd taken for a snack, and it hadn't budged. She'd even shoved it, but that had just caused a water buffalo to walk up beside it and ram her in the shoulder. The two animals completely filled the entrance to the sculpture garden, where the kids hadn't really wanted to go when there were real animals to see anyway, big and blank and way too close. She took a calming breath. "Okay," she told her class, putting on her best smile. "Sit in a circle. We're going to play duck, duck, goose!" The water buffalo snorted, the force of its breath sending her hair haloing around her face. Go to the zoo, the principal had said. Kids love the zoo. He was going to get an earful when she got out of this. But she was keeping it together; the kids were relatively calm, and seemed to be getting into the game. Tammy was determined to ensure that, when someone came to help, they'd find the class in good order. But she couldn't blame them for descending back into screaming, crying panic when gorillas started dropping off computers all around them...

GM January 21st, 2015. 9:55 AM. "Hawk to Spider. Target is on the bridge, about four cars behind you. Maneuver is go. Over." "Roger, Hawk. Commencing maneuver. Estimated police response: ten minutes. Good luck." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A frigid wind blew a steady stream of sea fog and sodden not-quite-snow over Route 6. It was the tail end of Freedom City's rush hour, just the stragglers hurrying along in an effort to avoid being too late to work, but to small-town folks like Tom and Jenny Conway the Mangold Bridge still seemed packed. SUVs, tanker trucks, and even an armored car swooped around their little rental at what seemed like breakneck speed, horns blaring. Tom's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking madly between his mirrors and the road ahead of him. Sweat was beading up on his forehead. He just couldn’t understand why people insisted on driving so fast when the roads were slick and visibility was low. "I'm telling you, Jen," he said, his voice tense, "next time we should just take public transit. Driving in this city is a dam... sorry, darn nightmare." Jen laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "You're right, honey. I'm sorry. You're my hero." He glanced sideways, letting the tension melt from his face to match her smile. And then her eyes grew wide. "Tom, look out!" Scarcely thinking, he jammed on the brakes, turning back just in time to see a wall of metal coming right for him. There was a jarring, scraping crash; the seatbelt jerked too tight across his chest, driving the wind from his lungs, as his face met the airbag. An instant later the car buckled again, crushed in from behind. Bits of windshield drew stinging crimson streaks across his arms and cheeks. There was another impact, and another, but each grew a little weaker, and finally Tom raised his ringing head from the dashboard. "Jen? Jen, talk to me!" His wife laid her hand across his; she was crying. "Oh my God, Tom. Oh my God." He squeezed her fingers, kissed her on the cheek. "It's okay, Jen. We're okay. I'm going to go see if I can help. Stay here." It took three kicks to open the mangled door. He stepped out into a hellscape; broken glass, shredded bits of fender, and a long, long line of cars behind him, crumpled and broken as far as the eye could see. Thick, wet sleet fell over them, obscuring cracked windshields, but fires danced on cracked engine blocks in spite of the weather, dangerously close to puddles of leaking gasoline. In front of him was the eighteen-wheeler he'd hit, crashed perfectly across the width of the bridge. How had the driver managed that? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Bad time to mention I'm two days from retirement?" Bob offered Anita a hand, hauling her back to her feet. Whatever they'd hit, at least it hadn't flipped the truck, though it'd thrown the two of them around pretty good; Bob was bleeding from a cut on his scalp, and Anita was starting to wonder if she'd broken her left wrist or just sprained it. "Don't even joke about that," she told him, flicking her pistol's safety off. "The cargo's good?" Bob looked, then nodded. "It's fine. These kind of boxes are designed to be Philistine-proof; a little road rage won't crack 'em." Through the thick walls of the armored car they could hear approaching helicopter blades. "Police?" Bob asked. Anita shook her head. "Too soon. I don't like it." A bang on the roof silenced them both. Three more followed it; people dropping down onto the vehicle. "Molly," Anita said into her walkie, "can you get us out of here?" The next thing she heard was the telltale thwap of a silenced gunshot. Her hands went cold. "Bastards," she whispered. "Bastards." Bob's usually-jovial face went blank. Anita slammed her fist against the emergency contact button; the light blinked green, then went red. She checked her cell phone; no signal. Serious equipment. She heard them moving outside, then the whine of high-powered drills at the outer doors. Bob had to shout to be heard as he opened the weapons locker and tossed her a shotgun. "They're good," he said, his features grimly set. "We'll only get one shot, if that. Make it count." Anita crouched beside one of the painting boxes, the shotgun braced against her shoulder. She'd make them pay. God, they got Molly. Oh, she'd make them pay.

GM The Greenbank was a wreck of crumbling buildings and old railroads. More than a few of Freedom Cities homeless lived here. Many ill, in body and mind. Many lonely, many desperate. Young and old, men and women, and every race of earth. Possibly, even races other than earth. This was Freedom City, after all. The Mission of Mercy was a charitable mobile medical unit, run by volunteers, to try and give at least basic medical care to the homeless, some who were extremely ill. Run by a nun, a pair of nurses, and a rotating number of doctors who gave up their free time, it was well received, and at least made a little difference to a few lives. It saved more than a few. And Mad Jake, the hobo who was suitably mad, was stumbling scared from it. He had seen some crazy things in his time. Why, a few months ago he had sworn he had seen somebody open up the "Grin and Bear it" building, and descend into its basement. But then, he was blind drunk, and, he had to admit it, pretty loopy. He was frightened out of his wits, stumbling in the dark, vodka bottle in hand, tumbling, stumbling, and running from the Greenbanks, towards the Fens, and shouting to the world... "The Devil! I saw the Devil! Drinking blood!" he screamed in fear.

September 3, 2013 8:23 AM This morning found the sky over Freedom City overcast, with showers expected throughout the day and possibly thunder storms in the afternoon. Despite the cloud cover, the otherwise warm morning air was already very muggy due to the humidity. Nestled along the southeastern end of downtown Freedom City, the Fens were just as muggy as anywhere else. In the rather battered building that housed the Bloodhound Detective Agency, there was no reprieve from the humidity, as the building's air conditioning had once again decided to break down for the umpteenth time this summer. Harry was seated at his desk near the window, which was open in the hopes of getting a breeze. Freddy was seated on the sofa, watching the news, a fan blowing on him at the highest setting. Lucy was in the office she had recently moved into the humidity not bothering her in the slightest.

GM Thurdsay January 2nd, 6:00pm, Midtown... ...the Mall The New Year Sale was in full swing, with shops staying late, selling top top goods at low low prices. Or so the blazing music and slogans would have you believe. The truth may have fell a little short of the hype, but business was good that day. Aside from the regular stores and conveniences, a number of one-off market stalls had set up, selling everything from fountain of youth creams to fat busting skin lotion. After the yuletide indulgences, the same stalls that had been selling cakes, candy, and calories were not trying to pedal miracle weight loss and beauty treatments. A new year, a new you. And, human beings being human beings, that is, believing what it is convenient to believe, were lapping it up. A Mindy, Mandy, and Melanie, a trio of super-glam-fun teenage girls, arms weighed down by shopping bags courtesy of wealthy parents, were all keen to try the next big swindle in order to gain a microscopic advantage in appearance, and a fractional rise in the cruel social ladder of high school...

A Warehouse in Greenbank 11th August 2014 06:00 It would be strange for someone to take a taxi to the mostly industrial warehouses of the Greenbank. It was even stranger for said person to take the journey all the way from a rather exclusive hotel in Downtown Freedom City. For the entirety of the journey the young woman, a teenager dressed in the most outrageous of modern fashions, spent the journey talking to someone on her cell that she called constantly MM. You wouldn't expect someone to be awake and active this early in the morning. It was all very suspicious...

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.)

GM January 2nd 2015, Late Evening... Lantern Hill Police Station... Not a big Police Station, not a popular shift. A spooky shift, even, being so close to the graveyard. The police got by on strong coffee and grim humour. And gave the hobos, the lunatics, the goths practicing black magic, and the vandals pretty short shrift. If their police station was a little crumbly and a little drafty, then so were the cells. This latest arrest was a new one, even to them. They didn't know whether to call a psychiatrist, a doctor, a lawyer, or doctor metropolis. So they called the weirdo. Yeah, you know, the weirdo new Lawyer in Freedom City. And in Freedom City, calling a lawyer a weirdo was pretty stiff competition. Why, they already had "the Revenant" down in the Fens. But this guy was seven foot and blue and green and looked like a freak. Well, they said, lets try him out. And so they made the call... "We got some nut jo...I mean, we made some arrest, Some young woman, looks like some hippy environmentalist, you know what I mean...I mean, yeah, some decent protesting woman, sure...*ahem*...well, she is just gibbering, saying that they dumped something in the graveyard. Said the dead rising. Well we get that a lot on lantern hill, especially on April Fools day, if you know what I'm saying. Thing is, her eyes have gone totally green....we don't know what to do with her, so, we thought given you are...err...a bit...well...err....well....anyway, could you come and help?" asked the poor duty officer over the phone.

GM Friday, January 23rd. 2:30 PM. Some days, elbow-deep in elephant droppings, Tara had questioned her decision to intern at the Hanover Zoo. She she swore she would take back all her complaints if she came out of today in one piece. She'd been with Joan in the security station when it happened, thank God. The two of them watched through the cameras as the zoo erupted into utter chaos. Bobo the grizzly charged through the sliding doors of the visitors' center before they were fully open, shattering glass and scattering screaming crowds. Tic and Tac, two of the adult hippopotamuses, smashed headfirst into the zoo train, throwing the school kids riding it roughly onto the ground and scattering sparks that quickly caught in the dry grasses. And then the power went out, leaving them in total darkness. Joan laid a reassuring hand on Tara's shoulder. "Call 911 and stay put," the security guard told her, her voice calm but firm. "I'm going to go break out the tranqs." Fumbling for the door of the security hut, she wrenched it open. Sunlight streamed in, catching on the older woman's silver hair and fierce eyes... and on the horn of the rhinoceros thundering past. Towser didn't even slow as he impaled the door, ripping it from its hinges; Joan leapt back inside, the wind of his passage tugging at her uniform. "On second thought," she told Tara, "I think I'll stay here, too." They ducked under the computer console and stayed very, very quiet. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "It's a damn goat, Simmons! You put a 6'4" guy on his face a week ago, why is this so hard?" Officer Ted Simmons wrestled with the ram, arms straining as he held it back by the horns. It snapped its flat teeth at him whenever it got close, and had already come perilously close to the end of his nose. "I don't wanna hurt the friggin' thing, Sergeant," he shouted back. "I might break its neck if I try to throw it down by the head!" Sergeant 'Pepper' Pettars grunted; he had problems of his own, trying to dissuade a pair of ewes from kicking his shins in. They'd be the laughingstock of the precinct for this. And then Simmons heard the Sergeant's voice again. "Run! Drop everything and run!" He looked up, and the color drained from his face. He let go of the goat, a thunderous trumpeting sounding in his ears, and scrambled back, back toward the police perimeter. He stumbled as the ram butted him in the back of the knee, and it saved his life; a station wagon soared over his head, flipping end over end, and crashed down in front of him, spraying windshield glass in all directions. Some days, he reflected as the elephants bore down on the police perimeter, it really didn't pay to get out of bed.

A Plateau in South America Friday, February 7, 2014 Giang Trang stood near the edge of a rocky plateau, looking out over a vast stretch of jungle down below. A few exotic birds could be seen flying up over the jungle canopy, and similar bird calls could be heard from the jungle trees up on the plateau as well. It was just over a year ago that the Asian teen had first stood here, waiting for Zandar, the jungle lord of the Lost World. The attractive Asian teen was dressed almost exactly as she had been during that last trip, in a dark blue cami top, over which she had a dark khaki long-sleeved shirt, which was currently unbuttoned and had the sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows in the humid jungle heat. She had on a pair of olive cargo shorts, and a pair of hiking boots, which had been brand new a year ago, but were now well worn, having gone through the Lost World once, as well as a trip to Africa. A backpack sat on the ground near one of her feet, filled with some changes of clothing and some other survival gear. Giang turned back to look at the others gathered on the plateau with her, her expression calm and serene. During the last trip, she had been the newcomer, having not even been at Claremont Academy a week. Now, the eighteen year old was the senior student for the trip, at least in terms of age and grade level. Samantha Vance was the next oldest of the group, and had actually been at Claremont longer than Giang. She was also the member of the group Giang knew best, but even then it was mainly through their mutual friendships with Mali, Cerys and Tona. The other three gathered students were some of the newest to Claremont, Cho Paige Lee, Juno Dempsey and Eugene King. While Giang had seen Juno and Gene around campus, Cho was the only one she really had had much in the way of interaction with before now. Of course, trips such as this made a good opportunity to learn more about her fellow students. "It should not be long before our guide arrives." She stated to break the silence.

GM Thursday 5th June Late... Sidewinder Tattoo Parlor It was hard to say when custom grew short in a Tattoo palor in Riverside. The place kind of buzzed along until the earlier hours of the morning, along with all the other new age shops, bookstores, gay and lesbian bars, and every other kind of new millenia bohemian and hippy who wandered the streets. It was, overall, a pretty friendly atmosphere, but, like all of Freedom City, pass midnight and dark, things sometimes got unfriendly. Drink had been drunk, and, given the bohemian artistry of the place, drugs had been smoked. And nasty things did happen. It was happening to one man right now, Vince Cotton. He had had a few many to drink, and was stumbling out of a gay bar worse for the wear, badly singing some club tune. Vince was a regular guy, but dressed up too well for a night in an alley. Gold watch, diamond cuff links, and a wallet stuffed with cash that nearly fell out of his pocket. He happened to be a literary agent for one of the biggest book publishers in Freedom, or indeed the states. And his job paid very well, including a rather vague notion of expenses that allowed him to party hard, and free, most nights. Drunk as he was, he barely felt the kick that took him tumbling into some trash cans and cut his head open on the metal edge of the can. He sobered up as best he could, but his legs had gone from under him. The two guys who approached him could have easily just picked up his wallet and left it at that. They didn't look like those kind of guys. The shaved heads, leather jackets, and nazi tattoos gave one the impression that it was about cutting a hole in some homosexuals heart first, and the money was just the bonus prize. If only it had been the other way round... Snickt! was the sound of a flickknife opening...

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!"