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GM Various points around Midtown, Freedom City 9.45 AM, Tuesday, July 1st, 2014 A new month dawned. Despite the chaos in their lives, Freedom's millions mostly stuck to their routine, working to get through the day, to deal with their small problems and enjoy their small pleasures. In a lot of ways life hadn't changed much since the last century, except for one crucial shift... On top of the Surland Insurance building on Liberty, ten stories up, Bae looked down at the street. Behind his fogged-up glasses he couldn't see it clearly, but he could make out the people below. A part of him regretted that anyone would have to see him hit the ground, but a darker, colder part of him was glad to have an audience. 'Maybe now,' he thought, arms spreading as he stepped into the abyss 'I'll be worth noticing. Not just some nobody' By sheer chance, Stronghold saw the jumper start his plummet. There wasn't much time, but she could save him! Abby hit the ground hard, howling in pain and clutching her elbow. Sitting up awkwardly, the young woman just dodged the follow-up kick, rolling ungainly away and slamming against the alley wall. Her crisp office-wear was useless in this kind of situation. Looking up at her tormentor, she mumbled out "Y'won't get me that ea-augh!" a second kick from the masked young man hit home, sending her sprawling and croaking back to the ground. In mid-flight, she caught a glimpse of her would-be rescuee, the younger girl with the short black hair, silent and terrified thanks to the powerful hand clamped over her mouth and the knife at her throat. Catching a glimpse of her as she passed on Allen St., she'd dropped everything and charged to the rescue. "Jesus, woman," drawled the masked tough, taking out a much-used nightstick from his belt "you oughta leave this stuff to the real heroes, yaknowwhatim sayin'?" 'Maybe I can be...' thought Abigail furiously, scrabbling into a crouch and blowing the red hair out of her eyes as she focused on her attacker as he drew near 'I don't have to be worthless...' No thought goes unheard, especially not when Miss Grue is around. The door of the Go-Mart on the corner 40th and Foster burst open, letting in the gun-wielding middle-aged woman. "Alright, everyone down!" she hollered, firing a shot into the air for effect, one that sent the shocked passel of Freedonians inside obediently to the floor. Marching up to the teller, she gestured with the Beretta "You, call the cops, tell them I..." she glanced around, eyes wild before an idea struck "tell them I have hostages! And I won't give them up until the government releases the Patriot formula!" The teller stared at her blankly, nodded very slowly, and picked up the phone to relay the message as the graying woman's gun trembled near his heart. Riff heard it all clear as day. The gunshot was a pretty clear giveaway, though. Really, no need to listen further after that. Ted slumped onto the concrete bench on Allen St., clasping his head of tousled red hair in his hands as it dropped to his knees. 'I'm worthless, useless, can't do anything, I always screw up' He looked up just in time to catch sight of Amelyth flying overhead...and his head slumped down again 'I'm nothing, I'm no good, I'm weak, I'm stupid, I'm nothing next to them...' You didn't need to be a telepath to know the guy had a problem, but being made it easier to guess what the problem was. Marsha stared at the painting on her easel. It was technically precise, a masterpiece. A glorious mimicry of the cityscape on Liberty, but forecast into some glorious future, metal and glass spires reaching for the heavens. Around them flew, walked or ricocheted a myriad of costumed characters, laughing at the silver paradise they were in. They burned with power, shone with health and youth. And were completely alone. Adjusting her round glasses, she sighed and relaxed into her fold-up chair, the lines on her face crinkling glumly. "This isn't our world anymore. It's theirs. I'm sure they'll be glad when we're all gone" she said aloud, the words catching the attention and raised eyebrows of a few passing Freedonians, but not getting any comment. Rene de Saens was passing by, though, and art always wants critique.

GM The Mid Atlantic September the 1st, Morning... In the wake of the near sinking of the Cruise Ship Magnificent the Ocean was undergoing some increase in Military Manuevers. More for show and confidence than effect. Captain Blood had vanished, and his spectral ghost ship was unlikely to be shredded by conventional shells. Still. A show of force reassured people. The Missile Cruiser Luther was just one of those vessels, commanded by Captain Gomez, a somewhat short, lined man of Mexican descent and keen intellect swirling in black eyes. And he had invited the heroes of that day, the saving of the Magnificent, to his ship. With news. "We can't find Captain Blood anywhere" he conceded. "Although we are doing are best. Thing is, we aren't sure our satellites and scanners could detect him anywhere" he sighed. "Although we have picked up some other unusual readings. Sea bed activity, not matching any non seismic pattern. We send submarines down, but too late. Can catch it. We though it might be the Russians, or some military venture. But they deny it. Of course, they would deny it anyway..." he shrugged. Politics were above his pay grade. "We need some answers. We need someone who can get down to the sea bed, and get down fast..." he explained.

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.

Saturday, 22 November 2014, 1400 It was a cold winter's day in Freedom City. And across the city... two phones were ringing. Catherine sighed as she sat in the hotel room she was using, resting in her wheelchair. Hopefully, she'd be able to get out of the dammed thing soon enough- her recuperation from her injuries was coming along nicely, although she'd likely never be able to walk unaided again. Well... powers aside. And Dad was working on a powered frame, now, which should let her fight for extended periods of time... Now, though, her concerns were different, although related, as she called the other two heroes involved in that particular series of events, as a pair of medals glinted from where they were laid out on the bed. "Well, let's hope things go well..."

GM Just past midnight... ...September the 5th... ...Outside MAX MEDICINES!... The Van had caught Geckoman's eye. Was it too clean? Was it parked illegally? Was the engine running for too long, with no movement? Was it the five men that got out, and took a crowbar to the back door of MAX MEDICINES? It was cool night, but clear. The stars and moon lit up Freedom City, and in the North End, the soft amber roses of street lights always kept it bathed in a warm light. This almost looked to obvious. It was not quite the clumsy break and entry of street kids, grabbing a TV for their next fix of whatever drug had hit the streets this month. It was hardly a professional job either. It hovered in between. It was odd, however that no alarm went off... Geckoman could smell something on the crooks. Some kind of sickly sweet pheremone or scent. Not falling into unpleasant or pleasant either, just something that was distinctive.

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!"

A demon walk into a bar... What you’ve heard that one? How about a demon looking like Linda Hamilton walk into a bar... El espinazo del diablo, US Route 491 (formerly 666), New Mexico (The Navajo Nation) Whilst the Route had been renamed for over a decade, and road improvement had reduced the number of accidents, the route had never lost its sheen as the Devil’s Highway. And after a hard day on the road they tended to congregate at the the roadside bar called El Espinazo del Diablo, the Devil’s Backbone. During the day it was a quite roadside bar with the occasional visit from tourists out to visit many of the breathtaking scenery of this part of New Mexico, during the night it was a much more rowdy place and fight were quite common. Whilst Axel “Grease†Robinson, and old friend of Carmen’s father, had retired from the biker gang’s he did still like hanging out in these sort of places. His Auto Shop was doing well to the point he’d had to take on an assistant, bemoaning why modern Car’s had so much electronics, a young Navajo woman by the name of Rachael Ironhorse. Ironhorse wasn’t her real name but she insisted that everyone called her that. She wasn’t into biker culture, though she did own her own hog, and was currently nurse an orange juice whilst doing something fiddly on her cell. “Well that’s ain’t something you see everyday.†Axel spoke in his gruff voice, causing the two women to look up. Walking into the bar was a woman and not a biker of any stripe, she looked more like a tourists. “Look exactly like that chick from those movie’s, you know the one with the robot from the future.†It was true but Carmen’s accursed stick was also telling her that this woman was more than a look alike, she was an infernal creature of some sort. The “woman†bought herself a beer and sat in one of the booths laying out a large map of the area, only to be accosted by two bikers in Gas Chugger color trying to work out if she was prey or a good night’s fun. The Gas Chugger’s might not be the friendliest of gangs, they’d often classed with her father’s old gang, but even they didn’t deserve the fate the demon might have for them.

GM "So that's it" said Cruxberry. "The best lead we have. And I can't say I'm surprised that it was Lucy Diamond that showed up first. She never was very circumspect at the best of times". Cruxberry sat, whilst the impassive, muscular agent Smith stood with his usual jet black glasses, crisp black suit, and huge black briefcase, not moving a muscle. He didn't say a word. Smith never said a word, unless he needed too. It was in rural Wales, apparently. Some locals had seen sights. Of course, masses of people had seen sights. Champion flying overhead, Y Derwen planting himself in their back garden, on a glittering display of lights that could only be Lucy Diamond. But this was a lot more persuasive than the others. The descriptions were accurate. And actually frightening. A band of travellers, a wandering woman matching Lucy Diamond, and a wholescale panic. The whole travelling community went, for want of a better word, banana's. Attacking each other, arson, self injury. Two dead, seventeen severely injured. Utter mayhem. The file on Lucy Diamond spoke for itself. "Lucy was always powerful, but a loose cannon" explained Cruxberry. "Anyone touching her was infected with some kind of madness. And she was quite short of marbles herself. Combined that with the ability to turn into a form of organic diamond..." he whistled. "Osprey and Dr Benoit...I can see their potential but they haven't earned their stripes yet. Also, I need them for another matter" he explained to Young Brittania and Synapse. "So I would like you two to look into the sightings. Lucy Diamond is not a threat, at least not directly. We just want to find answers...." he drummed his fingers and looked at Synapse. "And there is a problem" he explained. "Lucy was completely immune to psionic effects. At least as far as Headcase was concerned. Somehow she shuts them down. Probably why Headcase was so paranoid about her. Although as you know, he was pretty paranoid about everything" he conceded. "Maybe you can get through to her, maybe you can't. But you can at least try to find out what happened, see if there is any truth to the stories. See if you cant stop anybody else going crazy with that splendid head of yours" he said to Synapse, passing her the file on Lucy.

Saturday, November 15th 2014 Two figures slipped into existance in the quiet woods, as if they appeared out of thin air. But nothing in this place was as it looked, as this was the mysterious, ever-shifting realm of the Fey. Truth told, a keen eye would spot the faint shimmering air that signalled the portal the girls had walked through. Again, the same observer would notice that one of the figures brought only a general resemblance to a woman. While the general shape was right, human girls didn't have the large, luminous eyes and the unnatural grace this woman possessed. Nor the strangely resonant voice she spoke with, as soon as the portal closed behind them. "And this is it, the Fey realm," Angie said, staring around. Even if she'd been here many times before, each of them had felt subtly different; bizarre and strangely familiar at the same time. "As much as I've been told, it's a sort of limbo that exists close to our reality, and yet a little out of synch with it. I can travel through here to any other place in the material plane, and open a portal back through a door or archway on the other side." A ginger cat - or at least, that's what it looked like - strut along with grace, slightly preceding Angeline. "I wil take a look around and check for any danger, milady." the cat said. It spoke with a voice that could only be described as... well... sly and cunning, and it looked extremely pleased to be able to roam the place freely. "Thank you, Oliver. But don't get too far away," Angie told her feline bodyguard, as Oliver sprinted ahead into the undergrowth. "So, what do you think of it? Isn't it beautiful?" asked Angie, twirling around and looking at her companion, her roommate Haukea.

GM Monday, August 19th, mid morning... A little book store in the West End... "Good morning. May I have some service please?" The man was only a few inches over five foot, and had a considerable belly. He was dressed in a fine quality suit, and had a hat that somehow seemed to be outrageous and conservative at the same time. His cheeks were red, as were his jowls, and he sported a pair of sideburns that looked like they belonged on a safari hunter from centuries ago. "I am looking for the owner, and have handsome money!" he declared without shame. His voice was neither high, nor low, but rumbled. It was hard to say how old he was, somewhere middle aged, but young and old too, all jammed into one squat body. His hair was flecked with grey and flowed long. Beside him stood a man almost two feet taller, and considerably broader. In his case, it was with muscle rather than fat. He wore a suit and dark glasses, and had blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. If ever there was a bodyguard, this man was it.

Continuing from >here. Amara Val-Ren had followed after Vince as the hologram led her from the room in which she had been awoken and into the vast chamber beyond, where seemingly endless rows upon rows of cryogenic tubes were stored in the cold air of the room. The cold no longer was bothering the Naram, as she moved over towards the nearest row of tubes, around which lights had just activated and the faint forms of her friends and comrades could be seen behind the frost on the tubes. She carefully counted the tubes as Vince moved over to a nearby control panel and began the awaking process for the other Praetorians. Just about two dozen tubes, the number of survivors she remembered from after their final battle with the Communion. And yet now they were being awoken to face the Communion once again. Amara stepped back from the tubes as she waited for the others to begin to wake. "We will want to see all information you and the Curator have regarding the Communion's advances. As well as that on any power groups that are there to oppose it."

Hanover, Freedom City September 27th, 2014 Afternoon It was a day like any other in Freedom City; the sun was shining, birds were singing, and there were police vehicles pulled up in front of a shred laboratory in Hanover. Lights flashed and junior officers cordoned off the area, while other officers in body armor kept windows and doors covered. Corona observed all of this from high above and approved of the crisp movements and precision. However, she wasn’t the sort to watch trouble happen, and so before long the alien in the hardsuit had planted herself in the middle of the carefully orchestrated chaos. “I’m Corona,†she announced. “Whichever y’all’s in charge here, I’d like to take a jawin’ with him.†“Sergeant Brant.†Corona turned around and faced a tall man with brick-red skin. “And you just fell out of the sky, so hello. I don’t suppose you’re here to tell us what’s causing those noises in there?†Corona was about to ask for some clarification, when a rumbling roar split the noonday street. She turned and watched as a great bulk eclipsed several windows -- at once -- before moving on. “Yeah, that thing. I don’t suppose you know what that thing is?â€

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.

GM Kingston, October 12, 2014, 10:30 P.M. The case was only a day old, and already it had achieved a certain level of notoriety- partially due to the bureaucratic tangle that had piled up in the past 24 hours. The FCPD had called in the Federal Bureau of Investigation fairly quickly... and then, unfortunately, once the media had gotten a hold of the story, information that the police had only just found out- that the girl had recently developed superpowers- got onto the media. And her name, Haruko Miyamoto. That, and new facts being discovered, necessitated bringing in AEGIS. And, after further investigation, the three agencies managed to determine that they needed even further outside assistance. Namely, some sort of mystical assistance, but that would take time. And time, quite often, was in short supply during cases like this. Which lead to the Miyamoto residence, late at night, with two cars parked outside, and a fairly-heavily build man standing outside, waiting to see if any heroes would investigate the story. It wasn't ideal, but... Well. In cases like this, any competent help would be appreciated.

GM June 6th, 10:00pm The Freedom City Subway... At this time, the subways were not exactly full. Well past rush hour, and that time after people had gone out for the evening, but before they came home. It was a twilight hour, busy enough, but not busy. A group of ten or so people were standing, waiting for the next train. They were of all types, colours, creeds, from a kid of seventeen to a man of seventy. Some were well dressed, some where barely dressed. About the only thing that was common was nervousness. A pacing, a sweat, a fidgeting. Furtive glances. They were lead by a man with grey hair and grizzled features, tall, but not freakishly slow. Slim but fit. With hard blue eyes, a trenchcoat, a hat, a thick sturdy folded umbrella (despite the lack of rain) and a very visible, slightly worn, crucifix around his neck, on a chain. Another time, such silverware may have made for an attractive target to any subway mugger. But on this day, the man who was wearing it gave of an aura of strength that would deter such foolhardiness. "All Death must Die" he swore, solemnly, as the train arrived. His followers repeated, with less conviction and gravity than the man. "And Death is here...I feel it" the man added, entering the subway car. All this was just about to come. And came to Bloodline is a vision of the future...

Saturday, May 3rd, 2014 Later morning DeCosta High School, Freedom City The crowd had swelled beyond the gymnasium's bleachers, leaving many spectators standing on the basketball court or out in the hallway. The low murmur of conversation was an effective white noise, but the young girl perched on a top row was still able to pick out a few strains of conversation. "... Hope I can ask him about the tax on... " "... Wonder what he was thinking when he voted for... " "... Just who is running against him, again?" "... Whatever happened to his son after that fight with... " The Tona Baudin winced and purposefully turned away from that last one. It was more than a year ago that her robotic duplicate had tried to kill Aaron Walsh, and had then turned that same homicidal programming on her friends and allies. She had since repaired those relationships, but now the Congressman was back in town on the campaign trail, which her friends insisted had nothing to do with killing people. Still, Tona was making sure that no one else was going to try and attack Representative Walsh this time. She turned up the hood of her dark green hoodie with a fletching design and settled into her seat. Walsh was supposed to be out at any moment, and this town hall meeting was supposed to go on until past lunch, so she had to be ready to wait all day.

November 10, 2014 A hyperlight signal crossed the vast interstellar network, ricocheting off Lor communications stations a moment before the stations were deluged by word of the apocalypse that had befallen the homeworld. Further and further out into the Orion Arm it went, passing by the populated worlds of the galaxy as it headed into a remote galactic backwater that held one insignificant yellow dwarf and a small system of eight planets. It hit the unmanned station the Lor had left in Pluto orbit decades earlier and headed in one last burst for Earth, passing by the Lighthouse and heading straight for its source - Archetech. In a darkened laboratory, Sharl Tulink arrived on his hands and knees, screaming. "NO!" Instinctively, he reached out mentally into the surrounding network, both the building's power grid and the computers all around him. The lights flared up at his command and the computers came to life, the primitive technology and raw naturalism of Terra a sharp contrast to the sterile, doomed world he'd left behind him. As the Terran computers booted up, Sharl fought the natural urge to dive directly into their systems and not stop running through that primitive wireless network until he reached the familiar confines of Tronik - but of course that wouldn't really solve anything, would it? Instead, he raised his head and got up off the floor - though of course being a holographic projection he'd only barely been on it in the first place. He reached out into the surrounding network of the city and called a familiar number. "Gina!" he called, remembering old distress signals easily enough. "Code 404!"

June 5, 2014 Namibia The private hunting reserve had been hidden carefully by the Crime League - or rather, by Orion, the League's huntsman. For a substantial cash infusion, or a 'favor to be named later', League members, supervillains, criminals, or simply the unscrupulous rich (which often fell into the earlier categories, depending on how you felt about it) could come to southwest Africa and hunt creatures as they saw fit. This could mean endangered animals like gorillas and elephants, exotic alien animals taken from far-away planets by the Crime League's stellar allies, or even extinct animals reconstructed in laboratories like the dodo or the Tasmanian Tiger. But a foolhardy guest had actually gone so far as to post pictures to the Deep Web, pictures which wound up falling into the hands of science heroes who had first tracked its location, then alerted the Freedom League, who had closed in with all the force they could muster. Orion had been defeated by Bowman in a daring bow-against-rifle duel, Blackstar had been beaten by Captain Thunder, and the day was saved... But what to do with all the animals? The League was on the case, but the story had gone beyond the League. It had become an international story in the last few days, one that had attracted significant media attention. UNISON had sent a team whose members included one of UNISON's most famous employees; Edge, the American superhero-turned-humanitarian, while the Discovery Channel (taking advantage of their connections with the League) had sent a documenary crew including Paige Cline, part of a dynamic duo of super-hosts that was unfortunately seperated today by something as mundane as a parent-teacher conference and the need to chaperone a field trip to Cleveland. The compound, located in the high desert, was built like an old-style English manor house (albeit with all the latest amenities) - the animals were in emergency housing in the shade thrown together by the League and especially by the UNISON team (thanks to Mark Lucas' special abilities), and an unusually pensive Edge was still there as the others went about their work. Mark had never really had pets growing up, and even though he knew this menagerie was made up of wild animals (some of whom would probably need to be put down), he was trying to fight the urge to take them all home with him. Instead he contended himself with volunteering, and so was currently in a rocking chair, nursing a baby wild boar that had mostly fallen asleep with its little mouth around the bottle.

GM Post Since you've been approached, in secret, only a few months ago you’ve all been training to become the newest version of Claremont’s own super team the Next-Gen. The seven of you have been training to operate as both a full team and as two smaller teams imaginatively called Team-A and Team-B. And now both teams have been assigned their own mission. Team-A Riverside Park 13:20 Wednesday 2nd July 2014 Whilst Team-B seem to have been sent of what you assume is a wild adventure you’ve been assigned a much more mundane task. You’ve have been asked to investigate sporadic signals of alien origin that have been detected emanating from the park over the last couple of day. It could be nothing but things are still a little jittery after the events of last years, that even managed to affect Claremont itself...

"Stories?" Eden Espadas inquired with a hopeful inflection as she ducked her head under her aunt's elbow and pulled herself up onto Ellie's lap to get a better look at the medical text open on the table in front of them. With a small laugh, Ellie shifted the toddler about into a safer position. "Not exactly, Edie. Y'know how tu papa teaches people here? This is how I learn how to be a doctor." She'd set herself up at a deck on the dojo's first floor partly so that she could take advantage of the light coming in through the large front windows and partly so she could keep an eye on her niece as she played on the pads covering most of the floor. Chris had also mentioned something about coming by to work on the security systems in the headquarters hidden in the converted bomb shelter under their feet and with her brother and sister-in-law out celebrating their anniversary she wanted to watch the door in the meantime. Eden looked equally skeptical at the idea of a book that wasn't for stories as she did about her aunt being a doctor. She liked Ellie, after all, and she knew she didn't enjoy visiting the doctor much at all. She could only assume it was another case of an adult trying to be funny. They did that a lot.

August 1, 2014 Midnight Manor 5 AM The ball of water smashed into the grounds of Midnight Manor like a tidal wave, water erupting outward and down as the artificial sphere produced by a hasty mass teleport collapsed under its own weight in a mini-tsunami. The water smashed across the lawn and flooded the flower beds, smashed against the first floor windows on the north side (which were luckily closed) and flooded the pool. In the center of the vast wet spot on the completely drenched lawn, a bedragged Mark Lucas and Nina al-Darsah were crouched protectively over an unconscious, bloody woman in a torn blue and white outfit like something from a Victorian's painting of a Middle Eastern harem. She looked bad, like someone who'd been grabbed in a giant's fist, and was covered in blood. "<-STEN TO ME!>" Nina was in the middle of screaming; the only water still standing the head-height inch-thick wall she was holding up between them and an invisible assailant. Her formal Socotran dress was ruined, even royal-made waterproof blue and white cloth torn to ribbons and hanging bedraggedly off her body, as if she'd been tossed into a waterfall and come out the other side. Mark wasn't panicking, really; he'd been in crises far worse than this, but as his soaking wet suit and tie erupted into his costume in a flash of light he was certainly far more focused than he usually was. "He's far away, and we have to get her to a hospital right now." He looked up, bloodstains on his hands from where it pooled on Fatima al-Darsah's skin like juice from a squeezed grape. "This is bad; I don't...I don't know how to fix this!" he said, a moment before he yelled "T-Midnight! Wander!" Pacing around the scene, her eyes still out for danger that was thousands of miles away, the princess of Socotra kept moving. "It doesn't make any sense," said Nina desperately, pulling her hair loose so the black strands poured down, soaking wet, past her shoulders. "Why would he do this, why would he just..." "Nina, please, I need you to help me with this!" Mark snapped. "I can't do this alone!" Torn out of her fugue by her boyfriend's urgency, not to mention the crisis of the moment, the princess went to help tend the bleeding woman who twenty minutes earlier had called her Daughter...

Lor Space The Unseen Ocean - interstellar transport vessel All was quiet on The Unseen Ocean - and, really, it had better have been for what people at this end of the massive vessel paid for the trip. The middle-class got the midship and the proles got pods and benches back by the engines, but this section, near the bow, was all high-rollers and corporate contracts. In fact, even the halls outside the multi-room suites were silent and nearly empty - a lone few employees, impeccably dressed, made their way through the smooth metal and plastic archways to keep everything invisibly supplied and anonymously clean. All of which, unfortunately, made the woman who stepped out of one of the corporate suites stand out like a sore thumb. A bellhop stopped cold, fins along the side of his head extending in surprise as he stared - her already unacceptably-dyed hair was disheveled, her would-be faultless uniform torn in places and discolored near the shoulder in what could have been her own blood if she'd had any visible wounds. A slow clicking sound drew his attention downward, to the segmented tail that was slowly curling out from between the door and its frame as she flashed a winning smile and tried to close the door. The door stopped short of its frame, stuck on the arm of someone who - at the sudden sensation of their limb getting hit by a closing aperture - made a disoriented and not-quite-conscious groaning sound. "Ah - no tickets," the woman explained, flashing her smile again and none-too-gently kicking the hand out of the way so that the door would shut. She picked up a heavy, ornate case from where she'd set it down, quickly brushing past the young man on her way aftward. The bellhop reached for his commlink. "I've got the cabin package, Rock, but we're probably blown. We've only got a few minutes before an alarm gets hit and security starts crawling out of the walls." Eclipse tore what was left of the uniform off, exposing a far more practical jumpsuit underneath and putting some extra energy in her stride as, all around her the lights went red and a low klaxon sounded. She reached up to her ear with her free hand to adjust the volume on her communicator. "....maybe less. Please tell me things went cleaner on your end."

Rita Kord Dormitory, Claremont Academy. Saturday, October 18th, 2014, 4:05 pm Casey Blankenship stood in the third floor hallway, surrounded by three suitcases and hefting a huge backpack; her blonde hair was practically up and out of the way, and she wore a red flannel shirt, jeans and light hiking boots. She adjusted her glasses out of habit as she looked up and down the hallway; each door looked exactly like the next, other than the cork-boards used for leaving notes or adding decoration. She fidgeted with her brand-new school ID with its magnetic stripe; the RA had been very specific about the rules if you ever lost your ID. Just get it over with, Case; you'll be fine. She swiped the card through the lock, the little light went green and she pushed the door open; inside, the room looked comfortable but quite barren without any personal belongings in it yet. Without any real preference, she unslung her pack and dropped it on the left-hand bed as she pulled in her wheeled suitcase, leaving the rest out in the hall for now. A quick peek out the window revealed a view to the northwest; the back of the Carter Dorm, a few trees and the athletic field off in the distance. I guess when I'm bored, I could always watch a game from here...assuming we actually get to play any sports...

GM Friday 2nd May, late afternoon... The offices of the Ledger... "Hey beautiful, can I buy you dinner?" Marcus Lane was his name. He was a young man with chiselled looks, a mop of slightly unruly blonde hair and bright blue eyes the female staff often swam in. He wasn't the best dressed, the tallest or the broadest guy in the building, but he had a natural charm and cheekbones you could chop vegetables in. At the end of the week, the staff were winding down after five gruelling days of writing and reporting. Marcus was high on coffee, as always, and never stopped smiling or running low on gas. He thrust a takeaway cup of Dancia's favourite beverage into her hand. How did he know what to buy? A bit of observation, a bit of interest... "I know this great Thai place, just 10 minutes walk. I'll buy!" he added, confident and bristling with energy.

Since you've been approached, in secret, only a few months ago you’ve all been training to become the newest version of Claremont’s own super team the Next-Gen. The seven of you have been training to operate as both a full team and as two smaller teams imaginatively called Team-A and Team-B. And now both teams have been assigned their own mission. Team-B Moffat Morphology Headquarters, Hanover 10:00 Wednesday 2nd July 2014 Moffat Morphology is one of those companies that seems to exist mostly in Freedom City. Using a combination of advanced polymers and nanotechnology they have developed technology that allow creation almost any tool imaginary with only simple computer control. Recently however there have been several baffling breakins of other hi-tech companies where the only evidence left on the scene was a polymer similar to that developed by Moffat’s. Helpfully the company is proud to offer tours of it’s facilities for budding young students so you’ve been assigned to investigate to find out if the company is in anyway involved in these robberies. Next-Gen isn’t the only one investigating this company for possible criminal activity. In one of those strange coincidences Alexandria Watson, aka Somnium, is also investigating the company after a half remembered mention of possible dubious activities connected to her families collapsed criminal empire. Detail are hazy beyond the simple mention of there name, it could be nothing... A small group of students, including yourselves, are gathered in the lobby of the company where you are met by a rather keen young woman in a sharp business suit, her red hair done up in severe bun. “Hello there and welcome to Moffat Morphology. I’m Gillian and I’ll be your guide to today’s trip. If you’d just like to follow me...â€