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-Richard Cline, An Oral History of the Terminus Invasion Summer 1993 First National Bank of Lincoln Richard Cline stuck out in the crowd of customers waiting in line for the teller for three reasons - his tapping foot, rolling eyes, and general air of impatience marked him as someone eager to be anywhere else than waiting in line, his white skin and flashy clothes marked him as an outsider among the bank’s mostly working-class customers, and his baseball cap and sunglasses were just a little odd for this early in the morning. The other customers gave him a wide berth, when they weren’t glaring at him - just as planned. It was hot in the bank, but not quite hot enough for them to run the air - instead the music from the lot across the street gently thrummed in through the open windows. “Cause my heart is beatin’ triple time, yeah!” He did a little dance in place, snapping his fingers to the beat, and winked at a little kid watching him from the row behind. Poor little bastard, stuck in these lines with his boring mundane ‘rents. Maybe we’ll give him something to think about. He slid back and forth on his sneakers as he stood there, brand-new rubber squeaking again and again against the green marble floor. He and Paige hadn’t been back in Freedom City for a while, but they’d kept up their careers in New York and London, and even made the front page in the latter when they’d squared off against Britannia while making off with the Prime Minister’s watch. Maybe we should go to Canada next. Those jerks in True North could be taken down a notch or two. “What are _you_ looking at?” he sneered over his sunglasses at an older man in the business suit before he pulled the shades back up and made a rude face. Stupid old man, thinks he can start something. He yanked his fingers down his vest, snapping it tight, and thought Paige’s way. Baby, once we pawn the jewels, let’s run up to that theater in Queens and see Jurassic Park again. He knew his girl was already in position, getting the crowd in the bank ready for the show of their boring little lives, while he kept everyone’s attention through his confident demeanor and manly swagger. He tapped his pristine white Air Jordans and thought good thoughts about showing Paige a very good time in that darkened theater. Feeling like a T-Rex today! He was thirty years old, he had the best superpowers and the best girl in the world, and they were about to do what they did best - CRIME! Guard’s at the door...checking his watch...think he’s gonna go take a whiz. When he finally got to the front of the line, an eternally frustrating five or six minutes later, Richard pulled off his shades and smiled real big at the middle-aged clerk, flashing his pearly whites. “Honey, I got good news, and I got good news - first, you can take the day off. Even better is -” He jumped up and kicked off, speeding up the room and slowing himself as he did a totally, bodaciously badass flip that landed him on top of the counter. Enjoying the shocked faces of the crowd in that one long, frozen moment, he pulled off his magenta vest, bright red tie, black leather jacket, and white tee, and threw on the black and white jumpsuit that he’d been wearing since he was a teenager. “Fast-Forward and Hologram are here to put a little color in your lives! Everybody get down!”

Monday, January 6th, 2014 10:34 AM Wharton State Forest It almost hadn't happened. The weatherman had called for unseasonably warm temperatures through the end of the year, and the people behind the festival had talked about how to keep the ice from melting. Then everything changed when the weather blew up cold and windy; the Freedom League rallied metahumans and were managing to keep the worst of the 'polar vortex' at bay, but it did mean ice and snow for Freedom City and the Winter Festival was on. As the King family van pulled into the well-plowed parking lot of Wharton State Park, Gene King tried to remind himself that all that was good news. He should be happy that the heroes were keeping snow and cold to a manageable level -- but part of him couldn't help but think that this was precious extended Christmas vacation time being taken away from video games.

Rita Kord Dorms- 4PM, Friday the 17th of January Haukea sat in the common room, taking some quiet time after classes to read a book. The last week of classes had been… fairly relaxed settling in, but wasn't the real problem. Well, maybe not a problem so much as… The whole room shuffle had left Haukea with a room to herself, at least until some more students came in. She didn't remember the last time she'd had a room to herself. Okay, apart from the whole broken arm incident. But she was still feeling a bit lonely.

Saturday January 18th 2014 West End 10:30 am Just another day in the city, in particular the West End. People minding their own business is what's going on, nothing out of the ordinary. However, there's a certain air of tension filling the normally far more lively and pleasant neighborhood. As if something had been brewing slowly in the last few weeks or even months. A sharp eye could notice there had been some degradations in a few places around the West End, that in some places the neighborhood had turned a little more intimidating or even dangerous. Noises fill the air as police cars pass by in the street, their sirens blaring. Something is going on, that’s for sure.

GM Café Quantique, Bayview, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, January 11, 2014 6:30 PM Café Quantique is fairly small and compact. Operating as a combination bookstore and coffee shop, the floor is decked out with all manner of horror, supernatural, romance, and thriller novels stocked in the shelves. The floors are a dark, heavy oak, with matching wood tiling to give the place an archaic feel to it. An aged marble counter extends through part of the back, where the coffee is served up. The shop's ambience is tied together with lighthearted music playing throughout the establishment and a beautiful view of the waterfront. The Cafe was one that often found itself the home of a many a teen visitor being so near to the prestigious Claremont Academy. It's affluent location also brought in the occasional college student or would be writer. And right now it had two of those very same Claremont teens sitting inside. One would be hard pressed to tell the two teens had only hours ago finished a knockdown drag down brawl. A brawl that was originally supposed to be a capture the flag training exercise. An exercise in which their simmering tension came to a boil. Luckily aside from the staff there the cafe was unusually empty at the moment. Which meant as long as they didn't shout their conversation could be an open dialogue. After enough time had passed Thaelia had seen to it to invite Cho Paige Lee out. Seeking to mend fences seeing as it wasn't a school night. With the muscular girls hitting up the french styled cafe at the Atlantean royal's insistence.

Greenbank, Freedom City Friday, January 10th, 8:00pm They'd all started getting whispers, but they came from different places. Shadowblade was still making her mark on the city, but she'd heard rumors on more than one patrol that someone was restarting the same sort of experiment she'd busted up at that school just a few weeks ago. Except, this sounded bigger. With even more planning and setup, and in an area few seemed to care about. Blodeuwedd's patrols had gotten her a lot of rumblings about...well, it wasn't so much a "gang war" as it was "outsiders gobbling up territory". Except these outsiders played things smart. One day, suddenly several of the not-quite-empty warehouses were no longer under their existing management. Some of the previous tenants had made it out with rumors of men (and a few women) in matte black uniforms moving like ghosts in the night. People in uniforms that sometimes had guns, sometimes nothing. Always scary. Not all of the tenants (a polite term for small and medium gangs squatting in warehouses and other buildings) made it out, though some were whispering they weren't dead, they just switched "sides". Graft had been hearing rumbles from many of his patients coming through the clinic. Most were homeless people who'd seen these strange people lurking about, or just barely missed their "grabs". But they didn't seem to be primarily targeting the random homeless and transients. Instead, the primary targets were gang members! The folks Graft talked to mentioned at one point seeing black-clothed figures nab a half-dozen gang-bangers without killing them. A couple nights later, it seemed like there were even more paramilitary folks running around... Comrade Frost, meanwhile, had gotten some disturbing rumors himself. Rumors of the mafiya being paid a pretty penny to help move a lot of very interesting things into a couple of warehouses right on the river. Things like lots of high-end scientific materials, loads and loads of wires and cables and pipes and ropes, prefabricated housing and other long-term residence supplies... And weapons. Nothing too big, all man-portable, and nothing incredibly advanced. But weapons nonetheless. But it wasn't a continuing operation; it was a one-and-done transport deal, conducted with some people who were so professional you could cut paper on it. Not a pretty picture, but he hadn't heard of anything major getting blown up. Yet. Now, what would they all be doing about it?

GM January 25th, 11.45 AM, Saturday, 2014, A.S.T.R.O. Labs, Reception Hall The unveiling of the Nucleic Reorganization Field Emitter was a lot more enthusiastic than the name would have suggested. But then, just about any public revelation from the busy corner of super-science usually heralded something extraordinary, whether it was some miraculous way to purify polluted water, direct the growth of plant-life or just a simple fusion-powered jetpack, and a clear sign that the world was changing all around the world, starting right there in Freedom City. The reception hall of the austere modern-style building thronged with those who had asked or been asked to attend, mostly businessmen and businesswoman, entrepreneurs, news-anchors and reporters. Over the Labs' main doors a broad banner was unfurled, those in the know glancing up at its familiar sleek edging and art-deco typeface with a smile of recognition, and at the words "A Gift to Humanity...Revealed!". The stairs outside for several steps were packed as well, and those unfortunate enough to be caught out in the cold shivered in thick coats and sipped gratefully at hot drinks while several of the more news-hungry guests performed impromptu interviews. Those inside had something very different to think about. "Yes, as you can see, ladies and gentlemen" said the trim, needle-like Prof. M. Cavesson, all crisp courtesy behind his thin glasses and snowy-white bread that matched his stark white suit, his soft, rolling voice reaching the entire front hall packed with unusually patient and calm reporters, cameraman and photographers, all of whom were relieved and a little smug that they didn't have to stand out in the cold waiting for "the applications of the Emitter are as boundless as they are humanitarian. With this, we can clean up radiation leak from nuclear reactors, like the prototype used in the after-effects of the Fukushima catastrophe in 2011, making the land and, air and water safe for human life within weeks and months rather than milennia. It doesn't stop there, either," he added, real excitement straining against his professionally-level tone "we are, ladies and gentlemen, looking at a real chance of reversing the effects of zero-gravity sickness, the horrendous effects of prions in the brain, maybe even, once we've perfected the reorganization process on living material, recover flesh lost to leprosy before that disease's total eradication!" The assembled newshounds and high-profile visitors clapped with polite enthusiasm, a few whistles ringing out from the back rows, but the eager grins on nearly every face showed that the sentiment was far from false. Swelling with pride, Cavesson stepped back and swung open the doors to the main floor, re-purposed especially for the day's revelation. Hanging from the ceiling's many arching steel beams were red, blue and gold banners celebrating the names of several patrons(including Daedalus) and companies(including Grant Conglomerate and the Rhoseus Corporation). Around the room were a series of blackboards crammed with equations and artistic depictions of molecules being recombined and reconfigured, while standing beside them were around a dozen nervous-looking lab technicians, many of whom stiffened in mild panic at the sudden invasion. In contrast to the hubbub surrounding it, the Nucleic Reorganization Field Emitter was a very refined-looking instrument, a tall pedestal under the generous Main Hall skylight bearing the apparatus of three slender blue rods as long as a full-grown man attached at their summit to a curved dish like a satellite. "This, I tell you," said Prof. Cavesson with a grin "heralds a brighter tomorrow! With it, why, we might even be able to permanently cure poor souls like Adam Ward, so-called Gamma 'the Atom-Smasher', or drain the poisonous radiation from Hiroshima Shadow..." As he spoke a gaggle of students from universities a few miles away to across the Atlantic piled in, some excitedly hurrying off to interrogate a like mind in a freshly-ironed lab coat, others remaining in gaggles to commiserate over how much of a pain the trip was. There were, of course, exceptions. And a few unexpected eyes...

GM Parkhurst Hotel Lantern Hill, Freedom City, New Jersey Friday, January 4th, 2013 12:01 AM A thundering series of knocks echoed from the door to the elderly Rene de Saëns' room in Parkhurst. It was far later into the night in which any sane person had any business knocking on any doors. In fact the only reason the artist was even at the residence was due to the fact he had deemed it too late to waste time that could be better spent sleeping with a trek to his own home. Stirred awake by the commotion Rene groggily made his way to the door. On the other side of the door he was treated to the visit of a pale thin looking woman dressed in an authentic French soldier's uniform from the Napoleonic Wars. To anyone else her yellow tinted eyes would have a strange glow about them, but under Rene's particular gaze they had a dull if not slightly uneven sheen to them. Long strands of unkempt hair settled onto the shoulders of her uniform. From Rene's perspective the woman had a bold outline and a distinct mixture of coloring that made her surrounding area easily confused for a synthesist painting rather than one born from impressionism. "Please...I need your help. A darkness is coming." The woman's words came out as if she was pleading, but not a trace of emotion showed itself on the canvas Rene was staring at. She came off as cold, detached, almost robotic really. But there was a sort of honesty all the same. Inside the mind of one very special Grue, Freedom City, New Jersey Friday, January 4th, 2013 12:01 AM After the college's entire student body had finished their third surprisingly coordinated and choreographed dance number it had come time for lunch. Daphne Celeste, the spunky heroine who seemed to spend every waking hour with her two closest friends and practically no one else, had just absent-mindedly crashed tray first into new student Devon Lee. Sending a plate full of pasta and other assorted mess inducing foods all over his letterman jacket and the girl stumbling onto the ground. No one questioned why a new student already had a letterman jacket on his first day. It just simply was. The cafeteria was filled with silence as both Daphne and Devon suddenly got an inordinate amount of attention. "What no breadsticks?" A laugh track played overhead. Not that anyone acknowledged the unmistakable sound. Devon stretched his hand out to help the girl to her feet.

January 6, 2014 7:20 AM EST The first ray of sunshine came in the window and Richard Cline opened his eyes, ready for his last day off before they headed back to the West Coast for a full week of shooting. Richard sat up, pushing aside the linen sheets, and looked at the waxed-paper window on the wall of the little wooden house. Ticktickticktick Time slowed to a crawl for Richard Cline, as Fast-Forward took in his changed bedroom with all the time in the world. Linen sheets, featherbed, waxpaper windows, and I think that's a chamberpot under the bed...oh, geez, am I back in the Renaissance again? He looked down at the woman sharing his bed and reached down to gently nudge Paige awake, feeling the familiar brush against his mind that had been part of his soul for twenty-five years. Aw, geez, did I take her back with me again? She's gonna kick my ass after that thing with the Wild West... Ticktickticktick On the handwrought, overlapping planks, there was a woodcut of a man frozen in a blur of motion paired with a smiling woman in a low-cut dress, smoke and fire rising from her hands. Behind them were a young man in equal speed, and a young girl with the same energies as her mother. The legend read CIRCUS OF CRIME, MAGIC, MISCHIEF, AND MERRIMENT! STARRING THE LEGENDARY ROGUES - THE CLINE FAMILY! WITH PASSION PLAYS TO SHOW THE TRUE MORAL WAY! The smell of horses outside, the sounds of activity; a circus in the middle of waking up for the day. It's another goddamned crisis in time! Richard Cline snapped awake alongside an altered version of his wife, dressed in a long black nightdress, and asked the question he had to ask. "...Baby, is that you?"

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 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.

January 12, 2014 Stone Stadium Freedom City College It's halftime, and the Harlem Globetrotters are in fine form. They've packed Wading Way Arena to nearly two-thirds of its 10,000 seat capacity and have held the crowd's attention with their trademark brand of basketball shenanigans and good fundamentals. Freedom City appreciates people in funny costumes with fantastic abilities, and between the cartwheels that scored that last three-point shot and the backflip slamdunk, the Globetrotters have the crowd eating out of the palm of their collective hand. Will they come from behind and make up their current two-point deficit against the hated Washington Generals? The crowd certainly hopes so! But it's half-time now, time for a bathroom or stretch break, or perhaps to make your way to the famously overflowing concession stand. Freedom City College has always been particularly international in its cuisine, and whether or not it's true that the concession stand's manager Maurice is really an alien, his hotdogs really are 'out of this world'! The crowd is happy, the game is going great - It's a good day to be alive.

Freedom City University January 4, 2014 It was late on the night of January 4th when the alarm began ringing at Freedom City University's Physics Building; the clang-a-lang-a-lang of the old brass striker in the big red alarms located high above each of the building's original entrances. The campus was mostly quiet right now; classes weren't back in session and most students were still away lingering over the holidays with their families, and it was late enough that most of the people who used the campus for other purposes were home. Under dark, cloudy skies and a mostly empty, snow-covered campus, lit only by the ever-present glow of security lights, the alarms rang again and again - while dark deeds were carried out in the shadowed Physics building and a man's life lay in the balance.

December 15th, 2013 Southside 5:30 PM It was a chilly late afternoon in Freedom City, and the shopping areas of Southside were picking up from all the people who had gotten out of work and needed to do some shopping. The sky was filled with the orange glow of twilight. The street lights were on, there was snow on the ground, and the air was cold. It felt and looked and sounded like Christmas was right around the corner. For some people, this was cause for celebration. For others, it was a sign of a miserable winter. Meanwhile, behind one of the shops, three robots stepped up to the wall of the building...

GM Doctor Charles Cross Medical Center, Lincoln Thursday, December 12th, 2013 7:16 PM Lincoln had never been known as the most affluent neighborhood South of the Boardwalk. The hardworking residents who made up the majority of its population were often overlooked in favor of the contrasting number of gangbangers whom called the place home. In reality Lincoln was no more predisposed to crime than the rest of the of the district South of the river. Many business were dedicated to bettering life for the residents in the area. The Doctor Charles Cross Medical Center was just one of those facilities. A free clinic that had been operating since the 70's dedicated to providing health care to those whom couldn't otherwise afford it. Currently it was run by the thirty six year old Beth Cross, whom before inheriting the family practice served as a surgeon for the Kingston Community Medical Center. The facility especially saw the most use during the holiday season when people had the time to actually find out what the ailments they were ignoring for months meant. The run down looking clinic was covered head to toe with christmas lights in honor of the festive season. Unfortunately, for the past thirty minutes the christmas lights had been paling in comparison to the amount of headlights from the police cars. It had only been an hour since a group of six masked men had seized control of the clinic. Holding it hostage after their demands for medical supplies were met with a silent alarm being tripped. Foreshadow and Graft had arrived while the police where setting up their barricade and proceeded to sneak inside unseen. An impressive feat considering how much of Graft there was to see.

December 16th 9:00 PM The Fens The world was cold. Frost and ice decorated the rooftops and streets, and snow, mixed with light rain, came from above. All in all, the weather was miserable. Still, Shadowblade was not deterred. She teleported to another roof, this one a convenience store. Just as she landed, she heard the distinct sound of a struggle. As she looked down, she saw five men in jet black suits grab a homeless man who was bundled up in a corner, and throw him roughly into a nearby van. Tonight already brought trouble.

Friday, December 13th, 2013 Somewhere Around Saturn 12:32 PM The time had come for some action. Kyle had been getting ready for work when Mentor had called in. A distress call had been picked up on Lor frequencies a few hours before, and had finally made its way to Mentor's networks. A mining vessel had encountered critical engine failure somewhere around Charon, and taken environmental systems on line. There were two days of air left on the ship, with a narrow window for Lor rescue vessels to enter nearby space. Conditions were so bad that the miners were broadcasting salvage rights to rescuers over the frequencies. Kyle, of course, was thinking more altruistically. After arranging a sick day and getting some coffee, he took to the skies. The atmosphere was left behind in a few seconds, and the Moon a few minutes after that. Usually, it would be a quiet, contemplative flight to the other end of the system - but he'd arranged some company this time. "You ever get tired of this?"

November 20th, 8:56PM, the Waterfront. On a boat. Errant had his legs wrapped around the head and neck of the guy, his hands gripping at the weapon smuggler's arm sharply as he tried to keep the triangle choke going. His teeth gritted under his mask the larger man slammed him against the side of the cabin. He managed to retain his grip, just. 'I can't get the other ones right now, I am a bit busy at the moment.' Trying to bit back the pain as this was happening, they were in two separate sections of the boat, and both had their hands full, he had under estimated the man's strength was paying for it with a ringing headache from being swung about 'If you would just be patient I am doing the best I can.' Of course this was little comfort for Glamazon, as this had been initial little social outing with some others, only for Errant slip away from the group to go after these smugglers. Which was why he had agreed as he had some intel on them being there. And Thaelia, sense action, have been very, very persuasive with the stoic telepath. Not that she knew of the impact she had on him, able to obliterate his normal dry, dispassionate manner of speak into a rambling trail and a noncommittal shrug.

NSW Trainlink Melbourne, Australia December 1st, 2013 6:15 AM The construction of a high-speed rail link along Australia's Eastern coast from Melbourne to Brisbane had long been a dream denied fruition until the government finally came to a resolution in funding such an ambitious project. A bullet train capable of scaling the distance between Melbourne and Sidney in only four hours was like a dream. But Michael Fields was no ordinary dreamer, so he made sure that Fields Technology intervened during the design phase lobbying for high-end cost-effective improvements on the overall design. Until eventually Fields Technology was given the helm of the project, and they wasted little time improving the Bullet Train's speed to cross the distance between Melbourne and Sydney to only two hours. If the experimental railway proved successful enough, Fields Technology could possibly even get the green light to improve railways all over the country. The Government was also quick realize the potential increase in revenue due to tourism if such a venture was indeed a success. Michael Fields was quick to join in on the new bullet train's maiden voyage after all his company's reputation had a lot riding on the investment. And it was still a work day after all. The new train wouldn't set off for another half an hour. But commuters were already lining up trying to get a seat. Some on their way to work. Some on vacation. And others were simply wanting to hitch a ride on the bullet train early on. Luckily, there was room for any matter of passengers.

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.

November 3, 2013 “…we’ve been at this for an hour. I don’t th-“ “No, you ARE thinking. That’s the problem.†An exasperated sigh escaped the judoka’s mouth. Marcus frowned, biting back a grumble of frustration. “I get it. You’re still worried that what happened to Richard will happen to you. But mastering the Beast Rune is going to take more than just the raw strength of your bear form. You've tapped into that potential once before... you can do it again.†It had been the Master Mage himself who had turned Arcturus towards training, certainly more than he’d done at his four years at Claremont. It was rigorous to the point of being a job in and of itself, and his teacher seemed to know far more about the Beast Rune than he did. In the end, it was just a lot of philosophy, as well as an unusual fighting style that was unique to Arc’s inherited magical ability. “Juuhoukenjitsuâ€â€”the Way of the Beast King’s Fist. At first, it was nothing but forms and katas. Admittedly, Marcus thought it was utterly useless at first… until the first time he’d used it in a fight. When the mind is reeling, the body remembers its training; this was universal, and suddenly Arcturus felt he could relate to the Beast Rune in a way that he’d never done before then. Nevertheless… he was holding back. He could sense the wall he had put up ever since that fateful night on his birthday five years ago… Marcus really wasn’t sure if he was ready to bring it down. The Cult of the Beast Rune, however, was giving him very little choice. “Okay. Let’s start again.†Marcus shut his eyes. He wasn't sure how much time had passed after that. The moment he stopped concerning himself with time is when everything felt timeless. He felt a sudden rush, as if his entire body was suddenly weightless, and when he opened his eyes, the dojo was gone. In its place was a wide expanse of grassy hills, and a circle of stones that reminded him vaguely of Stonehenge. ...not exactly what I expected. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be, would it?" Marcus spun around at the sound of a voice other than his own. He paused at the sight of something oddly familiar: a figure nearly a foot taller than him, wearing a dark green robe, his face entirely covered by a ceramic bear mask. "I was wondering how long it would take you to get here."

GM Vector November 28th, 2013, 12.04AM, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia Sounding like a gurgling throat, the black waves beat and crashed against the dock. Their motion and power kept the small ship constantly moving despite thick lines mooring it to the heavy concrete and steel. The crew aboard it were crouched against the gunwales, watching the narrow road that quickly vanished into darkness until the main dock lights glared in a cacophony of hellish orange, occasionally shining on a truck rumbling past. Each time one passed by, they visibly tensed, only to relax as it disappeared. Then one turned. It was unmarked, save for a simple, generic logo on the sides proclaiming that it worked for one of the smaller shipping companies out of Gold Coast. It rumbled to a halt before the pier, and the back door swung open to disgorge several heavily-built men who looked about as nervous as the men on the boat, who scrambled to assist with loading long, heavy boxes from the boat into the truck. The driver remained in the cabin, but Vector could see that his eyes were wide behind the balaclava, and his knuckles were white on the wheel. With a dull thud one of the boxes fell from hands that were slick with sweat, and every last man there froze. As one they turned to look at the crate, and sagged with relief. Then glared at the one who had dropped it. "S-sorry" mumbled the man, looking askance as he reshouldered his burden "I just...not used to this stuff, won't happen again" "It better not" snapped a man thinner and more terrified than the rest who seemed to be in charge "None of us wanna get turned into dog food 'cause ya got nervous!" The unloading hurried along, everyone there desperately hoping they could finish their work quickly enough not to be seen first... Graft November 27th, 2013, 8.04AM, Waterfront, Freedom City, USA Tyrone had started hearing about the shipments only a couple of days ago. It had seemed like a normal, generic kind of freight truck that bustled about the metropolis until some of his patients had opened it, and decided to try and steal one of the boxes. Luckily they had survived the strange explosion with his help. Their muddled memory of the event had been light on a lot of details, but their description of the truck meant Graft recognized it at once when he saw it. Or at least one eerily like it. There hadn't been any companies registered with the brand emblazoned on the side(a red circle with a lightning bolt through the center), and the warehouse it stopped at had obviously not been properly used in the last decade, at the least. Rust hung on the main door as it creaked open, and the windows were cracked. Sure were a lot of very fit, very edgy-looking young men though. And the elongated bulges in their winter coats did nothing to make them suspicious. Stormbreaker November 27th, 2013, 8.04AM, Skies above the Waterfront, Freedom City, USA "Captain, ladyship!" barked the voice of Age's Lost's science officer, their multi-faceted eyes gleaming in the light of several data readouts on the bridge "I've got some kind of unusual energy signature, from the hyplothadrooga scanners it appears to follow the main wavelength associated with...Terminus radiation. Odd. A significant cluster of the energy sources is directly inside this structure." spindly fingers brought up a crisp picture of one of the innumerable warehouses far below. A large red rectangle pulsed in the center. "Shall we investigate, captain Silvia? I believe this is very atypical for Earth technology." the science officer's face nearly shone with hopeful curiosity.

Freedom Hall Tuesday, December 17, 2013 5:56 PM The early evening found a light snow falling on Freedom City, adding to the thin layer that had already accumulated. Heavy clouds that had filled the skies all day, now glowed a soft orange from the city's lights. Beyond the normal bright lights of the city's evening skyline, holiday lights and other decorations now seemed to be everywhere. The combination of the festive decorations and the light snow seemed to generate a vibrant energy within the city. As the heart of Freedom City, City Center was awash with dazzling lights and holiday decorations. A massive Christmas tree stood in the green space at the heart of Centennial Circle, out in front of City Hall. Sitting just to the west of Centennial Circle, Freedom Hall, the original headquarters of the Freedom League, was no exception to the festive atmosphere. Sections of the stone wall surrounding the Hall had various decorations, and the trees inside the grounds were adorned with lights. Freedom Hall itself had lights strung along the edges of stepped ledges created by the roofs of each floor. Velocity, one of the members of the Freedom League, was standing in the large lobby and reception area, taking one last look at the decorations that had been put up for the holiday party the League was hosting this evening for the city's various heroes. A ten foot tall Christmas tree had been set up along the right hand side of the lobby, covered in shining silver ornaments and multicolored lights. A number of tables were set up over on that side of the lobby, some lower tables with chairs, others were tall tables around which people could stand. Located just off that side of the lobby was a conference room where the food and refreshments had been set up. On the other side of the lobby had been reconfigured some by Dr. Metropolis to include a working fireplace in which there was currently a roaring fire. A number of leather sofas and chairs were arranged around the fireplace, offering a comfortable setting area for guests to relax. "Okay, everything looks great. The guests should start arriving soon." The speedster started out loud to some of her teammates as they were putting on the final touches. She was wearing her normal yellow costume, with the addition of a red Santa hat. As someone who could multitask with easy, the Velocity took a brief moment to check her phone, which was set up to control the sound system that had been connected to the first floor's PA system. Flipping through some of the songs she had put on the playlist, the young woman came to a stop at one song on the list. Listed on the screen was a song by Death Cab for Cutie, Christmas (Baby Please Come Home). Hmm, good song, but not one I think that hits a bit too close for Stesha. She thought, as she removed the song from the playlist. With that done, she selected another song on the list to begin with. Over the speakers throughout the first floor of the building, the mellow sound of saxophones and other jazz instruments could be heard as

November 28, 2013 Earth holidays were something Steve Murdock had gradually learned to celebrate during his years living in Freedom City, none having been part of his own upbringing. Some made sense, at least on an abstract level - the religious holidays to celebrate the birth, death, and rebirth of the primary god of the local population, the national holidays to celebrate the birth of the local nation-state, and those that commemorated the beginning and end of the year. His favorite of them all was the day of thanksgiving, perhaps because it was the closest thing to a holiday he himself had had as a child, even if the historical underpinnings of the day were at best an abstraction to the native of the Terminus. He'd spent most of his Thanksgivings on Earth-Prime working in homeless shelters and soup kitchens, gladly giving hot meals and warm beds to those who had fallen between the cracks even of this shining, near-perfect society. This year, however, was different - instead of helping strangers at a difficult time, he was helping someone very close to him indeed. Facing Gina across the breakfast table on Thanksgiving morning, he said, "It is strange to have a holiday together. I like the feel of it." Steve normally worked right through the holidays on behalf of his coworkers with children and families, but had made an exception this year given that Peter Evans was finally well enough to leave his treatment at the Albright Institute and walk safely on the street without fear of disaster. It was an occasion Steve understood only too well. Speaking of the day itself seemed like the safest place for the conversation to go, knowing how tense she was about the holiday reunion with her brother and his family - for all that she'd invited them there in the first place.

December 7, 2013 Kingston Midnight "Fullæstum! Cwæ, fullæstum mec!" The cry was coming from a deserted stretch of half-grown forest near a recent development as Cobalt Templar and Stronghold flew overhead, and as the ring-bearing sentinels flew low they soon found the source of the cry - a young woman about Corbin's apparent age, with long black hair cascading down her back and nearly chalk-white skin. Her clothes were a mess, a torn and slashed fast-food worker's uniform exposing half-healed wounds beneath as if she'd been attacked by a wild animal. Her eyes were the most striking; one an almost brilliant blue, the other a deep shade of purest black. When she caught sight of the descending heroes, she ran towards them, her eyes wide and her voice a scream. "Ellefnee, brega! Ic wédenheortu!" - December 7, 2013 Lincoln 1 AM Temperance was on patrol when the giant landed on the roof opposite her - there was no other way to describe the man-shaped, eagle-headed and magnificently-winged creature that towered at least twice her father's height as it pointed a taloned fist at her and spoke. The words were chilling like a winter squall, cold and wet as they slapped against her skin, the giant's voice like an avian shriek in an alien tongue. "Drýicge, for anlécas, ærfæder - Cume æt mec, or ic ábær ðu!" It shouted the words again, shaking those mighty wings, as it came closer and closer. Up close, she could feel the celestial chill that rose from those great wings, and see the ice that rimed the massive feathers - it was reaching for her, all right, as if planning to scoop her up into the night sky from which it had soundlessly come!