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Mid-afternoon, November 10th. Elias has ventured the idea, as a team building thing, and because, well he wanted out in the woods, and he expected that they wouldn't just sign off on him going alone. So post up a request, and see who would nibble in the beginning of November. Of course he had been in worse weather, so he was fine in it. But surprisingly, there were people willing to come along, a larger group than he expected. There was a faculty member coming along, one of the science teachers, a Mr. Landis, mostly there to make certain no one caught on fire, and to drive the van. A nice guy, Mr. Landis spoke with anyone who wanted to know about biology, but he seemed as keen as some of the others to get out of the city for the weekend. Elias had been the first person to throw up his tent, and then immediately started foraging once he accomplished that, taking a hatchet with him to use as a tool. He didn't discourage anyone from coming with him, and he had to tell Mr. Landis what he was going to do anyway.

January, 2013 When the Young Freedom students got back home from Christmas break, or rather found themselves on campus again steadily for the first time, there was a message for them from Citizen, calling them to meet with him at the 13th Floor right away. Citizen had been very busy in the weeks and months leading up to the break, working with the school and his mentor Miss Americana, on the project they'd all signed on for: the stealth mission to the Erde variant where an enslaved city of Tronik was a cybernetic captive of a collapsing Nazi regime. The shiny, glossy headquarters of the sometimes-troubled team looked busy and lived in as the team got there, and Sharl ushered everyone in with a tight look on his face. The various holo-emitters in the main conference room were all playing images as they arrived, familiar images to those who'd taken their other-dimension classes: massive Nazi super-tanks moving across the landscape of a battered United States, heavily-armed and armored German super-soldiers in combat with determined Resistance fighters, and a thousand other scenes of a world at war. Sharl waved his hand to silence all the machines, leaving only the grim images playing out behind him. Without preamble, he said, "We have to go. We have to go now." He coughed nervously, his image flickering, and added, "Over the holiday, Miss A and I made contact with Erde-Sharl and the leaders of the resistance movement in that universe's Tronik. Their Reich is running out of Ubersoldaten, so they're building an army of combat droids to take out the Resistance. Plague weapons, chemicals, anything designed to destroy organic life. And the worst part is, they're planning to use Tronikians as the software. A sentient program can do things even the best non-AI can't, especially when you destroy the sections that allow for emotion and personality." His jaw tightened. "They've already started. Miss A is in New York getting the last of the parts we'll need for a real gateway, but our departure time is tomorrow." Sharl strongly suspected she was watching, but his relationship with his mentor right now wasn't such that he could ask. "A...defector captured by the Liberty League last year gave us the plans for the base in what the locals used to call Missouri, and the other Tronik gave us the passcodes we'll need to get in without bringing all the Ubersoldaten down on us. The school's been cleared on it and we're all good to go...if you all are still in, that is," he added, a little belatedly. He was a little out of breath, but that was what happened when you still thought you needed to breathe: program or not. "Even though we're not going to get in trouble now that the school signed off on it, we are still putting ourselves in a lot of danger."

GM Freedom City Waterfront, October 28th, Sunday, 7.08 PM The Order's instructions had been clear, and Blodeuwedd's execution of the instructions had been flawless. The smugglers' guards outside the warehouse had led the Welsh agent straight to their employers, who had led her to their employer, a corrupt official in the Freedom port Authority, who had led her(after resisting slightly more than her last informants) directly to the captain responsible for the latest shipment of contraband concealed amongst a shipment of iron from Wales destined for the industrial quarters of Freedom City. The Order had mentioned in passing that the smugglers had forced a minor air spirit into their service, apparently an ancestral friend of one of the UK-originating crew members. This had only been in the context of tactical threats to the agent, the message urging agent Blodeuwedd to evade it rather than engage, in the hopes that they could put a stop to the black market before it grew out of control. From her vantage point, she could make out through the pouring rain ten dockmen overseeing the unloading of the large cargo crates from the Ton Llygad, the crane doing the unloading being operated by the crewman with the tie to the air spirit, the miserable creature sitting dully in the air above him, shimmering oddly in the light as the rain passed through it. The tarmac was slick, and the water poured off of the crates as they were swung leisurely through the air, the stiff wind whistling in from the sea and whipping the coats of the dockmen around them.

As the afternoon of October 31st gave way to evening, Ellie Espadas shoved one more secondhand textbook into a protesting messenger bag before slinging it over her shoulder and starting down the stairs of the classroom's tiered seating toward the exit. The premed student supposed she appreciated her professor's well meaning attempts to make the lecture festive but there was only so much one could do to make pathology significantly more ghoulish. "Well, that was especially disgusting," a less generous voice quipped from just behind her as a fellow student with long, chestnut hair bounded down the steps two at a time to catch up. Carly Westmas had come a long way from the nation's breadbasket to attend FCU, ending up in most of the same classes as Ellie in the first and second years of the medical program. Her frank and outspoken had recommended her to the Freedom City native, forming the basis of a friendship. "I want to know who looked at that toe and thought, 'Yes, I need to take a photo of that right now'." "I think it's more of a hazing thing," Ellie replied as the stepped out into the crowded hallway, full of students getting out of the last classes of the day. Various bat and pumpkin-shaped decorations had been plastered along the walls and a few orange and black streamers dangled from the railings of the second floor walkways. "Better to figure out your gross-out threshold now then when you're in the middle of treating someone?" Carly stuck out her tongue through a grimace. "I know you always say you've seen worse, but I don't think I'm jealous anymore." The tall, weedy brunette had understandably assumed her friend was referring to patients she'd seen volunteering at local hospitals but in this case it was hard to beat the zombies the young woman sometimes known as Jill O'Cure had fought on a previous Hallowe'en for sheer nausea inducing appearance. Spotting one of the many flyers taped haphazardly about the hallway, Carly snapped her fingers. "Ooh, you're coming to the party in McNider Hall, right? There's gonna be karaoke!" She turned the final word into a singsong crescendo to properly convey her excitement. "That's the plan," Ellie nodded with a small, bemused smile. She hadn't exactly been big on class parties, sanctioned or not, in high school but a lot of things had changed since then. If nothing else, she actually had a date this time. "Mara's meeting me here with our costumes." The way her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs communicated Carly's piqued interest. "Really? So... she actually exists? I had even odds that you'd just made her up to get losers to stop hitting on you." The skepticism was met with grumbling and reproachful mutters.

October 31, 7:30pm Halloween night had not been an especially auspicious night for the last several years in Freedom City. If it wasn't zombies rising from the grave or demonic forces attempting to take over the living world, it was cold, rainy weather that kept the little ghouls and goblins in their homes. Tonight, though, Halloween was crisp but not too cold, cloudy enough to be menacing, but without any actual rain. It was about as ideal as the holiday could get, and the trick-or-treaters were out in force. Tony North Bay didn't have as many wandering children as some newer neighborhoods where the McMansions crowded close to each other and the street, but for those who were enterprising and fearless, the haul could be worth the effort. At the end of one long driveway stood an especially dour and dangerous-looking manor, stark black and looming like a giant animal over the landscape, thanks to a few adroitly-placed spotlights in the backyard. A van full of middle-school children pulled up to the curb outside, disgorging a gangly vampire, an AEGIS trooper, Lady Liberty with most of her outfit obscured by a puffy pink jacket, a very short Midnight, and a yellow Angry Bird. The group milled around for a few moments, checking flashlights and treat bags before turning their attention to the very intimidating road ahead. The trees were thick with spiderwebs, and the bushes lining the lane seemed to rustle even with no wind to stir them. A line of luminescent footprints down the driveway beckoned the brave to continue, past the hooting of night birds and the ominous creaking of invisible wood and ropes. Somewhat hesitantly, Midnight led the way, playing his flashlight over the footprints and making his way down the path with the others close at his heels. It wasn't long before the music started, faraway and eerie, just loud enough to be heard in the still night.

"Little India", West End 16th October 2012 The term Little India was a bit of a misnomer as people from all over South Asia had made this part of the West End their home. This included a sizable Muslim population, mainly from Pakistan, and today was a special day for the whole community. After several months of collecting and planning they were finally ready to start construction on a local Mosque. The plan was for the community to build the place themselves, mostly for the few of them who worked in construction, but on the first day the idea was that the whole community would pitch in to start the building. They’d even invited a prominent Muslim to lay the first stone of the Mosque. One problem them had to decide upon was a local resident Lucy Harker, also known as Revenant. It seems that this area was once her home and she had now resumed residence in the area, acting as a protector of all the residents of this part of the West End. The moments she had heard about their idea she was enthusiastic about the idea, attending all the meeting and generously donating money. The problem wasn’t that she was an outsider or even a woman; it was that she was quite openly undead.

The vaguely egg shaped skyscraper known as the Lab stood out even amongst the many research and testing facilities in Hanover as a beacon of progress. Named with typically efficient accuracy by its founders, the building represented the coming together of some of humanity's finest minds, working together to move the world toward a future free of the past's superstition and fear. The irony was largely lost on the chipper poltergeist known in an equally informative fashion as Ghost Girl as she floated through the large windows of the Lab's lobby as if they were empty air, pulling back the hood of her tattered reaper's cloak so that she could crane her neck and gape in wonder at the ultra-modern architecture. "Woooow..." the translucent blue teen murmured as she coasted about almost two meters off of the floor taking everything in. She'd missed a fair bit since her untimely death but it was moments like this that really made her feel like a time-traveler. Spotting the receptionist behind the desk, she sped forward with a sunny smile. "Oh, hi! I, um, have an appointment?"

GM Claremont Academy, September 15th, 9.45 A.M. The day had dawned bright and clear, a slight mist hanging on the ground that quickly dispelled as the sun rose and evaporated it, leaving everything outside the warm buildings of the Claremont campus feeling slightly damp. Birds were now departing for warmer climates in force, with flocks passing over Freedom City in great 'V's. Their calls rang out with the sound of approaching autumn and the inexorable march of winter, and they frequently stopped at Claremont Academy to rest, many students having the ability to outright speak to them, and the paths were often littered with stray bits of bread and other kinds of food. While walking across campus, Cerys happened to walk by a small flock of Canadian geese huddled around and hiding a still figure on the grass. Hearing her steps, they rose up in a noisy stream of wings and loud honks, soaring up into the cloudless sky. What they had been hiding turned out to be a small hawk, a bird with long claws and a red stripe down its back, lying still on its side. After a few seconds it stirred, weakly flapping one wing over its left leg, on which a small steel ring holding a piece of paper was bound.

GM September 12th, 2012, 1.45 P.M. City Hall The day had so far been profoundly boring for the civic government employees. So far there had been the usual pileup of bureaucratic duties and paperwork needing to be filled out and passed on to other departments, or else sent out to businesses, agencies and the various Freedonians contributing to the steady stream of licenses, fines, and sundry other aspects of modern life. Mayor O'Connor sat wearily in his office, squinting through his thin glasses at the carefully-worded email A.E.G.I.S. Director Powers' secretary had sent him and wishing the ear-achingly-loud helicopter flying by would hurry up. Running a hand through his hair limply, he sighed and read the last sentence again. "'So, with all due respect Mr. Mayor, I don't think their presence is necessary'. Really, Harry?" he said to himself sarcastically as he began to busily check through a report on the state of the city roads in Lincoln "You're certain you know these people that well?" he shook his head "Alright, if you think that's best, I won't try and talk you out of it." Turning his full attention back to the almost completely positive report, he failed to notice the the fatigue-wearing man sneaking in through his propped-open window before it was too late. The hand roughly grabbing his shoulder and slamming him against the wall hard enough to dent it was his first clue that something was up, the sound of his attacker entering masked by the throbbing chops of the helicopter blades. Grunting in surprise and pain, Michael tore himself free and tensed himself, about to try and fight back when with a click his assailant backed up, drawing a rifle and aiming it directly at his face. "Don't even think about it, gramps" he snarled, his eyes behind the balaclava cold and murderous "from now on, your life belongs to OVERTHROW!" From the low-flying helicopter and a trio of dark vans screeching to a halt in front of the local center of government, armed members of the terrorist group stormed into the white-washed building, quickly disarming the guards and herding the now-terrified government workers into the lunch rooms and higher levels. In mere minutes, the helicopter was landed on the eerily-deserted main plaza of the hall, the vans pulled up onto the municipal lawns with a group of terrorists to guard them, and already the wail of sirens could be heard, the flashing blue and red lights of the racing police vehicles clearly visible to the four snipers crouched among the decorations on the corners of the roof. ----------------------------- News of the attack spread almost instantly, with twitter feeds, the various news channels getting as close as they dared to the scene of the attack, and word-of-mouth racing throughout the metropolis that armed men had taken captive their seat of government captive! Within the hour, the agents of OVERTHROW gave their demands to the television news networks, sending out an unmasked man in heavier armor than most of the others: "We categorically refuse to release your tyrannical mayor unless we receive the following:" he said, donning wire-frame glasses as he read from a sheet of paper "The firing of every person currently employed by this city's monument to managerial mediocrity and licensed waste of talent, replaced by the peerless members of our group we will bring before you for installment" smiling thinly at the blank stares that earned him he went on "As well, the freeing of Austrian citizen Hamilcar Kramer, AKA Weissnacht from Blackstone Penitentiary, the closing of that unnatural and unlawful prison, the rescinding of all laws permitting dangerous costumed vigilantes to operate freely in this city, and disallowing any reprisals against any of us involved with this act of regrettable but necessary terrorism!" he concluded forcefully, calmly removing his spectacles and folding the paper neatly into his pocket "Are there any questions?" As might be expected, there were.

September 7, 2012 Sharl wasn't sure what to make of the assignment he'd gotten from Ms. Harcourt, Claremont's hardworking science teacher, but he was there anyway for the "special team project" she'd invited him for. As more of his teammates arrived, it soon became clear that most of Young Freedom, and even one or two faces outside of it, had been invited along for the elective. They were in one of Harcourt's science labs, and Citizen found himself studying the homemade equipment with undisguised fascination as more people entered. _Could she really have made one of these out of household items?_ he thought with a little amazement as he drifted around a big kitbashed cylinder of electronic parts in the center of the room. "Come on in, everybody!" called Harcourt as more students entered. "Those of you who were asked to bring bags, and that's everyone who could, make sure you have those before you find a seat. This will be an overnight trip, and you need to be self-sufficient."

GM Monday, August 13 2:00 PM The Hunter Natural History Museum was a bustling place, buzzing with talk about the new animatronic dinosaur exhibit that was on loan for a few weeks. Over the next few weeks, virtually every elementary school in Freedom City would send their children to the museum to see the wonderful exhibit. They were supposedly the most lifelike dinosaurs ever constructed, and were on a tour. They'd already been in New York, and were now in Freedom City. A group of school children on a field trip were taking the tour, guided by chaperones. Some of them were interested, others were bored out of their minds. The dinosaurs themselves were in a specially outfitted area, with models of ancient plants from the dinosaur era scattered about.

GM Saturday 4th August, after sundown... Mrs. Fairfield was an old woman, nearly eighty and looking every inch of it. She was still of reasonable height, and weight, but was stooped over and walked with a stick. Her hair was completely white, tied back, and reading glasses tumbled from a chain around her neck. There was something sprightly in her eyes, despite her venerable body. Something that spoke of a sparkling youth. The speculative soul, on examining her would wonder about just how handsome and attractive she would have been decades ago, for there was the remnant of youthful beauty still. She stuck to the main streets, gripping her stick, and scowling at anyone she thought might mug her. She wouldn't normally roam the streets. But the dreams.... Something was up, of that we was sure. Ever since that Russian Priest had come in, all polite. Knew a lot. Asking about all sorts of stuff from her shop, and religion, and magic. She prided herself on having a firm academic base, but that man knew more than she ever would... And then, he was asking about Ghosts. Said he wanted one. No...he needed one. Yes, that was his words. He needed a Ghost... And then came the dreams. Vivid, magical dreams, exciting and terrifying at the same time. A dream of a girl... There! She stopped and stared at the youngster on the street. Peering at her with an open jaw. Just like the dreams!!! She approached the young girl. "Excuse me, dear..." she said, politely, her fingers tapping on her stick. "I know this sounds, well...senior..." she laughed. "But I have the sensation I know you. I have...dreamed of you..." she explained, rather awkwardly.

A warm summer breeze blew through the West End street of small businesses and restaurants weathering the times with varying degrees of success. The light wind stirred the gorgeous flowering plants hanging from the second storey windows of one such building, trailing leaves and vines brushing against the top of a bold gold-on-black sign that proclaimed the street-level floor to be home to "The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!". The dojo had been open for a little over a month at that point, attendance gradually picking up as fliers throughout the city and good word-of-mouth did their job. The proprietor was a well like native of the neighbourhood if unknown in the city at large and while the more introductory self defense courses were all well and good it was the more specific sword fighting classes which were purportedly worth the trip. Erik Espadas himself was locked in particularly grueling battle with the second hand computer on the reception desk, attempting to bring up the spreadsheet with the list of new students signed up for that week's class. "No, that's the budget," he grumbled under his breath, the annoyed expression on his lightly stubbled face visible from the other side of the large windows that looked out onto the street. "Depressing but not helpful right now. C'mon..." The attendee would be showing up shortly; if he could get this sorted out he was going to have to track down a pad of paper and a pen to take attendance.

The bombastic sign above the otherwise nondescript storefront proclaimed the institution to be "The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!" in bold gold lettering on a black backround complete with exclamation mark. Large glass windows revealed a currently unattended front desk and a diving wall that separated the training space from the street entrance. The second floor of the brick building looked to be given over to modest apartments, though it was worth noting that the window boxes hanging from them were host to some truly gorgeous flowering plants, fully in bloom in the August heat. Their leaves brushed against the top of the sign invitingly. The school had been up and running for about a month by then, advertising through posters and word of mouth not to mention a surprisingly well designed and maintained website. It was in one of the nicer parts of the West End fortunately enough; those inclined to research such things might have noted that it had become a noticeably nicer area since the proprietors of the dojo had moved in. Thing has been a little slow to start off with but a new wave of self-defense classes were starting that day and a good number of new members had signed up. Erik Espadas, the titular owner and head instructor busied himself unhooking a punching bag from the ceiling and moving it to one side of the larger section of the building, clearing off space in preparation. In a sleeveless white shirt and and comfortable sweat pants, the athletic, dusty haired young man certainly looked capable enough, built of lean muscle and angular good looks. The real question was just what this new batch of trainees would bring him.

GM Continued from Slave to Time Slave to Time - Part 2 - Journey to the Future! A carriage drew up ahead of El Heraldo and Young Brittania, who were short on water, food, sleep, and energy. "You folks alright?" said the Captain Yates. there were six of them. Northern soldiers, weary, dirty, and in at least one case, injured (with a grubby bandage wrapped round his head. Captain Yates was a youngish man, but lined by the war. He looked strong and healthy, with a mop of blond hair and a square jaw, his looks marred by a broken nose and a cauliflower ear. One would not call him an intellectual, by any means, but he seemed to have more wit about him than the average cannon fodder. He had a pleasant attitude, but a gruff voice. "Got to be careful up ahead. The South, they moving. Its going to be dirty fighting soon, all mud and swamp round here. Damn mosquitos nearly as bad as the war, to be honest. I swear, its more rotten and diseased than ever. Lost two of men to fever before we even saw action. Hell, I don't know why we are even fighting over that land..." He seemed genuinely puzzled by his own question. "Still, you folks got to be careful, you know..." he looked at Vile, bound and gagged. "Who you got their, Son?" he asked El Heraldo "a Southern Spy?"

Blodeuwedd was perplexed. She had spent months trying to track down the source of the statue but every lead led nowhere. She’d call in a few favour and gotten hold of some very secretive information but she was missing that one clue necessary to put all the clues together. She’d got the dorm room to herself this morning and she’d spread all her evidence across the floor trying to will it to make some sense when she spotted it. Casually resting on her sword stand was a large golden envelope inscribed with a rather fancy V. Inside was an invitation to the annual gathering of the Freedoninan Steampunk Convention. She’d heard about them, how they dressed up as Victorians and pretended that the last 100 years hadn’t happened or at least involved more brass and steam. The other thing she’d knew about them was that there was one guest they’d always hoped they could temp to attend…

GM 1st August, late evening... Doctor Karl Wessex shuffled nervously along the soup line. The various hobo's and insolvents of Freedom City had been more nervous than normal since the incident six months ago. They gave Karl a suspicious look, not keen on anyone scientific or medical. Nobody believes it... he told himself, firming his resolve. But from what I heard...she would... It had taken him a day or two to find out about Revenant, and he guessed this was the best place to find her on this warm night, wandering the streets of Freedom and helping out at the soup kitchen....

July 28th, 2012 Hughes Residence, North Bay, Freedom City It was just after 11 in the morning, and Corbin was actually pacing a bit nervously at his home's front door. His parents were out for the day, having one of their many "date days", and had told him to not make a mess but otherwise he was welcome to have friends over. He'd decided to take a mild risk and opt for another double-date. The last one had been....unique, but this time he figured he had a few things in favor. He and Quo-Dis were more comfortable and established, the whole setting was less formal, and Erin and Trevor were two of the most unflappable people he'd met. He doubted Quo-Dis could phase them terribly after being around Mark for several years. Still, it felt slightly odd having people over like this; this house was definitely bigger than what they'd had in St. Louis, though it was a bit more modest than some of the oldest ones in the area. More than that, he just generally didn't have people over; not because he didn't want to, but because it never seemed the "right time". 'Well, we're all high school graduates now, and we know each other pretty well. Besides, I've had Blake stay here a few nights here and there, and Quo-Dis certainly stays often enough...' His pacing eased, but he was still just a bit nervous.

4:56 PM Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012 Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City The city had been in the grip of a heat wave for a full week now, and the weather service wasn't forcasting any relief until the weekend. The dark sedan rolled up the baking, two-lane road towards the walled compound that held one of the city's most prestigious secondary schools. It slowed as it reached the walls of the academy, turning in and quickly finding a parking space. A casually dressed young man and a young woman with a tan climbed out of opposite sides of the car; the young man opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a packed duffel bag and a heavy rolling bag. He set them up next to the young woman and nodded at her. "I'll go get a teacher," he said. "Let them know you're here." With that he struck off towards the central building. The young woman's stooped and hefted the duffel without comment, then dragged it and the luggage into the shade of a nearby tree. She looked around the campus slowly, but aside from a few students walking around (and doing their best not to stare at the new arrival) there wasn't much to see. All the windows facing the quad made her nervous, but it had been mentioned over and over again that she shouldn't attack anyone at Claremont, at least until they asked her to. After a few minutes of standing, shifting her weight from side to side, the young woman dug a length of string from a pocket. She knotted it into a circle and draped it over both hands, pulling it taunt before beginning a complicated cat's cradle.

July 2012 Freedom City was an especially alien place in the summertime, given that Citizen had come here from one of his too-few visits back home. The heat poured off the naked alien sky overhead in a hot, moist blanket of humidity, the bizarre scents of humanity en masse rising from above the streets as he wafted his way through the sky towards Claremont Academy. Citizen had been in contact with Miss Americana since his departure, of course, as well as sending emails to his friends, but this was the first time he'd been back on Claremont's campus since his departure at the end of the formal school year. It was also the first time he'd brought his friend. "Hey, come here, Lora!" called Sharl, snapping his fingers towards the sky and bringing forth his dog! Lora was a black and brown canine from the German Shepard breed, an alien creature who'd had to board with a programmed sitter at Miss A's placewhile he visited a city where such creatures would have been an alien menace. But here on the streets of Freedom City, Lora was just another dog. It had taken some work to bond with the creature, but she was a nice doggie. Gina had made her well. Lora jumped up and licked her young master's face for a moment, making him sputter and reset his glasses, before he affectionately scratched behind her ears and went to look for his friends, cyber-dog in tow. Lora's holographic paws skittered lightly as he headed up the steps into the dorm building that he and Koshiro had shared.

July 4th, 2012 5:32 PM Joe Macayle stepped off the bus, feeling a bit out of his element amongst the swirling labyrinth of classical mansions. He'd been here quite a few times before, but usually at night and usually with an eye towards the back entrance. But standing before the gates of the Hunter Estate, in broad daylight, he really wondered if this was his place. Usually he didn't give a crap about things like this, but somehow, the invite had stirred up some lingering traces of self-consciousness. He'd come fairly dressed down - a fairly simple tee, jeans, and Docs, even leaving the braces at home in favor of a belt - carrying a cooler full of burgers in one hand and another full of ribs in the other. And yet, somehow, he found himself standing at the gate, wondering if he should turn back, get some better clothes or something. He shook his head. What the hell, he said. They've taken me as I am so far. With that, he rang the buzzer. "I'm here," he said into the intercom. "Don't know if I'm early or not..."

Friday, June 29th, 2012 8:47 PM It had been a perfectly ordinary evening for the Liberty League. Then someone had to tempt fate. There had been the usual security briefing at the Midnight Manor, with a discussion of movements amongst noted villains, possible security risks, and other matters of importance. Someone had brought up the fact that the Super Museum was doing another wartime theater retrospective, including some of the safer treatises of Lady Celtic. And not fifteen minutes later, the silent alarm had gone off, instructing Midnight and everyone gathered around the table that four people who weren't supposed to were stomping about inside. One teleport by Edge brought the League into the lobby of the Super Museum, the statues of Freedom's fallen looming dark in the night. They could hear traces of movement down the hall. "All right," whispered Cannonade. "What's the plan?"

Friday 22nd June 2012 Blodeuwedd couldn’t contain her excitement. Finally after all these months she was called upon to do the job she had been trained for. One of the Orders associate members called Nash had asked for her to visit him at a prearranged location to deal with an issue with a recently discovered artefact. It was laughably easy to sneak out of Claremont’s academy, she sometimes suspected they allowed people to do that as long as they didn’t get caught, to the little apartment she maintained as part of a carefully constructed cover story. Tonight she wasn’t Blodeuwedd, or even Cerys, no tonight she was Ellis Bextor a 21 year socialite and party goer. She inspected her look one last time before leaving her apartment. Her hair had been styled in one of the latest fashion she’d seen in a fashion magazine. Her body suit had been transformed into the classic little black dress, just the right side of decent, whilst she had decided on boot’s rather than heels to hide a few throwing knives, just in case. Her cloak was doing a much more vital job, currently invisible it concealed Dyrnwyn her sword. Finally she popped her goggles and a reasonable amount of spending money and she was ready for the night.

Friday, June 22nd 9:13 PM She didn't want to say anything like, "This heroing stuff is easy." She knew that led to all sorts of horribly cliched disasters raining down upon people's heads. But Eliza had to admit, there hadn't really been much happening the past few nights. Oh, sure, she'd only technically begun her patrols on Monday, once school was out. Before then was a lot of practice, a lot of training, and a lot of designing. She'd taken a trip to the Goodman Building just to make sure she got the right Atomwear to complete her costume - and that was after a few dozen passes of the various thrift stores in South Freedom to get the right coat. She didn't want to go out looking like Lady Liberty, but she still wanted something that looked professional while being dangerous. She had an image to cut. And she'd been cutting it all over Lincoln, taking aim at some of the usual low lifes - muggers, drug dealers, and, on Tuesday, a few thieves trying to clean out the safe of an OTB joint. One of them had pulled a gun on her, but she'd managed to throw an icicle right into its barrel. That was a hell of a thing to recall. But so far, it was quiet. She was lurking in the mouth of a back alley - she hadn't learned to travel through water like her dad, so she had to rely a lot on alleyways and stealth, and while it was tricky to pull off, it often brought her in line with her kind of targets. The sounds of the city played out around her, especially the thudding base - there was a block party going down a ways over. Maybe she'd make her way there later, if things got quiet - ditch the mask and the coat and just chill, enjoy the festivities. That quickly fell by the wayside as the screams rose, only to cut off as soon as they began. Eliza ran fast, tearing out of the alley way. Let's see what it is this time. Sounds big, whatever it is...

May 14th, 2012 Freedom Medical Center 2:42 PM The Freedom Medical Center was easily the largest and most modern hospital in a large and modern city, and as such its emergency room was never empty. At the moment, though, the area was filled to overflowing with patients on gurneys, lying across the plastic chairs intended to families of those awaiting diagnosis, or even propped up on the floor with only a pillow. Nurses and doctors dashed to and fro, surgical masks in place and rubber gloves on tight. Most carried an extra carton of them in their pockets, and trash bins were stuffed full of them as doctors poked, prodded, and collected samples of blood and phlegm. The air was filled with the hacking coughs, fits of sneezing, and low groans of the sickly. Most were leaking some pus or other fluid; one man on a gurney was holding a metal pan and regularly coughing up and spitting blood into it. It was a madhouse, and it was only growing.