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Monday, June 4th 6:16 PM Eric LaCroix had just gotten off his shift at the Black Petal, and was enjoying the time before his night job began. Usually he'd go right back to his apartment, bolt down a sandwich or something pre-made from Trader Joe's, then get on the makeup as soon as twilight hit and head out to Lantern Hill. But one of the things about getting closer to the Summer Solstice was that twilight got later and later, which gave him a bit more downtime. So, with some cash from tips in his pocket and not much else to do, he decided to head over to Pyramid Plaza. For a resident of Freedom, Eric never really got much chance to check out the landmark plaza. Sure, there had been the luncheon for various practitioners that had been thrown soon after he'd settled down in the city, but his day job usually kept him around Riverside and his night work didn't often take him to places so peaceful and well-maintained. As he walked away from the food court, a pulled pork sandwich in his hand, he took the time to take advantage of the rare peaceful hubbub. It said a lot that the chorus of screams sounded more familiar. Setting the pulled pork sandwich aside, he found a place in the shadows to duck away to the back corner of Hades' demesne where he kept his work gear. Within a few seconds, Nick Cimitiere was back out in the world of the living, scanning the street for the source of panic. He found it across the street, as dozens of people were running out of an apartment building that looked like a fortress carved from marble. He thought about stopping to ask someone about what was going on, but figured a skull-faced man stopping them in a time of crisis would not help anyone. So he danced around the crowd, pushing his way into the building and towards the horror within.
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Onika Studio's, Monday 21nd May 2012 It was a small studio, but one with big dreams. At the moment they were creating content for the local market. And they were having some measure of success, especially with their new game show Box O Money. It main gimmick was a massive Perspex box filled with cash; they claimed a billion dollars, which would count out each winners money. So proud were they of this success they would proudly proclaim this to all there visitors and show the box to all the visiting audiences. Now they were try to pilot a chat and variety show using a local radio personality with a variety of local and acts from outside known for their local connection.
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GM The address of "the Master" was in Lantern hill, near to the cemetery, and not far from St. Stephens Church. the buildings here were old, very old, and very beautiful, full of class and distinction, with a Victorian flavour. They were, almost certainly, extremely expensive. The Address lead Revenant to a particular delightful, tall house, not quite a mansion, but spacious, with a garden. It had a slightly tumbledown appearance, with an overgrown garden peppered with rubbish and bricks. Its chimney filled the air with a plume of smoke - someone had a fire going inside.
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Unfair Science Fair May 22, 2012 It was a big day at Joseph Clark High School; luckily Keith LaMarr was a very big man. The largest public high school in Lincoln was today hosting the 23rd annual George Washington Carver Science Fair, a cavalcade of the best and brightest from all over South Freedom. Kids from around there didn't get a lot of opportunities, so the chance for budding young geniuses to strut their stuff in public before potential college scouts was very compelling. It helped that today the school had managed to secure a celebrity judge for the GWC Fair: the world-famous gadgeteer Miss Americana! A lot of this was outside of Keith's area of expertise, of course, but few teachers at any high school in the area could bring a crowd of parents, students, and onlookers to heel with a look with as much ease as Mr. LaMarr the civics teacher. So he was on scene early to help with organization as Joseph Clark's kids got their displays set up and more kids began to arrive for the fair. It was a big day for everybody, with palpable excitement on the eager faces of the young scholars. Nearby was Patrick Grayson, an up-and-coming young senior whose intelligence had vaulted him several grades up, his research project having let him construct a minature gravitic generator like what Daedalus used to power his armor. The floating silver sphere was just a toy, but it bespoke good things for the kid who'd built it on his table using scraps. Keith had had special reason to pay attention to Patrick, and that reason was there too. Patrick's grandpa was watching his son work with pride, the grey-haired older man with his shock of hair and mustache vaguely slightly resembling Don King. Peter Grayson, aka the Mauler, had been a recurring foe for 1-800-JUSTICE back in the day, but the former prizefighter had abandoned his criminal ways after marrying Patrick's gramma Rose Marie. Pete had recognized Keith, of course, but the now- bespectacled older man had been very careful to stay close by his grandson rather than wander too close to his old enemy. -------- Meanwhile, across town, Glow and Citizen were flying along from the Claremont campus towards Miss Americana's laboratory; her facility one at the Lab, not the one at Archetech. It was Glow's 'ride-along day' for Miss Americana, part of her heroic training, which luckily coincided with Citizen's weekly day spent with his mentor. "You'll have a _great time_ with Miss A," Citizen was reassuring Glow, obviously looking very happy to be there. He didn't hang out with Kristen too much, but she was pretty cool, and of course Miss A was the coolest. "We're not doing much today, just some stuff around Freedom City, but she's great to hang out with. Her lab's got great gadgets, and she's just neat." He hadn't had a chance to hang out with Miss A much (as opposed to Gina) lately, and so he was looking forward to today quite a lot. Glow had heard of Miss Americana, of course, who hadn't heard of the beautiful, all-American genius whose charitable works made her so popular? From cybernetic limbs for injured kids all the way through blasting city-controlling abominations from the depths of space, Miss Americana was all right. It made a lot of sense that a famous science hero like Miss A had a cybernetic sidekick like Citizen, for all that he hadn't talked much about where he came from. Miss A had left the window of her laboratory open against the comfortable late spring day (since this was more a traveling day than a working day), and Glow and Citizen flew right in.
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Saturday, March 4th, 2012 4:02 PM Waterfront warehouse district, Freedom City Todd Hayden wove his cherry-red Mustang through the traffic of Freedom City was practiced ease, slipping from lane to lane and passing slower cars with barely a glance in his mirrors. As he drove he spoke, his words for the benefit of the three young heroes from Claremont academy that occupied the rest of the car. "My ancestors were pirates," he said. "Freebooters, privateers, sea dogs -- they sailed the oceans and looted and plundered to their hearts content. That's because for years they were also cultists of the Snake People. "We came to the New World with the first wave of English immigrants. Settled up in Boston, among the coves and natural harbors. Eventually the family's wealth was tied up in investments on land, not the sea, and I guess they didn't feel the need to worship the old gods anymore -- or maybe Elijah Prophet got the last of the Dagon-worshippers and the rest of the family didn't want to burn, I don't know." Hayden downshifted and pulled off the freeway, heading steadily towards the docks and piers. "I guess we just couldn't stay away from the water and easy money, though. In the thirties my family was involved with fascist groups in the States. Lots of people were -- I have a photograph of my great-granddad with Henry Ford. But when the war started we threw out lot behind the Nazis, tried to use our money and influence for them. We were almost found out by the first Raven and Lady Liberty, but somehow we just barely managed to keep out of jail. "The family named was ruined, though. My grandfather and father were both gamblers and drunks. I inherited a pile of debts and a legacy scholarship to Georgetown. I just wanted to dig around in the dirt for my whole life, but once I graduated... I was going to spend my entire life working at business or end up bankrupt and living in a shoebox, working at a museum somewhere." The car was crawling through access roads now, the sea close enough to smell. "When the Serpent People approached me, I... I knew it was a deal with the devil, but I thought I had the upper hand! They told me where I could find some old sunken treasure in Chesapeake Bay. I paid off my family's debts with that and started looking to dig abroad. They told me where I could find old Atlantean ruins, outposts from their war thousands of years ago. A whole chapter of history no one knew anything about! It was absurdly easy to make my name, and then I could pick and choose where I worked. "That's when Ernest showed up, and the Serpent People started leaning on me harder and harder. They wanted to know about navy movements, they had me drop sonar buoys and magical trip mines at dig sites. In the Middle East, I handed off money to some man whose name I never got. A week later, an archeological dig in Yemen was dynamited! I thought I should turn myself in, go to the Freedom League, whatever, but Ernest -- or at least one of them -- was always there." Hayden stopped the car and nodded at a row of warehouses. "The one on the very end, that's where the shark skeleton was delivered to. I... I don't know if I can help you any more than this."
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May 18, 2012 The first thing that Kimber Storm noticed as terribly, urgently wrong as she staggered, coughing from the cloud of smoke was not in fact that she had to cough or even stagger. Neither should have been a concern for the long since deceased poltergeist, but her first thought was that she was wearing absolutely the wrong hood. Rather than the ethereal cowl of her usual reaper's cloak, this was a heavy fabric attached to a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off and something scrawled on the front in stylized spraypaint. The jumpsuit underneath she recognized as the Claremont Academy uniform, which she was also sure wasn't right. Raising her hands to pull the hood out of the way, she saw that they were a healthy pink, undeniably solid and beating with a pulse. "Oh, marmalade," the living girl gulped. Thirty Minutes Earlier It took a lot of concentration from Kimber to keep her excited feet on the floor as the group of students entered the famous 'Super Museum' in Midtown, and even more concentration to keep her excitable body language confined to the shelter of the black umbrella blocking the sun's rays from revealing her as a translucent specter. The school trip to see the recently unveiled Lucas Collection had prompted a few significant looks between the senior members of the current iteration of Young Freedom, but the entusiastic Canadian was just looking forward to seeing all of the memorabilia in person. If all of the pieces were half as interesting as the ones mentioned specifically in the brochure, it was bound to be a memorable day!
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May 4 2012 After all the exhaustion of the last few months, it had been a welcome relief for Mark to get invited to the get-together at the Socotran Consulate for Nina's brother Morakot. Or be informed by Nina over breakfast that they'd be attending, anyway. "Personally, I never thought Morrie was going to get married," she told Mark breezily as she sat back in her chair and drank her dark, strong-smelling Arabian coffee with a thoughtful expression. "But he's nearly forty now and he's not getting any younger. Father does value family, and he does control the purse strings. You can't be a gentleman bachelor forever, not and enjoy the lifestyle of a prince of Socotra." Morakot al-Darsah, Mark knew, had been something of a playboy in years past, his dark skin, good looks, and well-groomed mustache making the wealthy prince a star of the tabloids of a previous generation: he'd even once squired Princess Diana around. He'd made it a point to be up to date on Nina's family after they'd started dating. "So he's announcing his engagement here in Freedom City? He must be marrying somebody local." He put his mind to the thought of all the eligible women in town interested in marrying a handsome prince, but there were too many possibilities. "And you don't know who, or you'd have told me already." That got him one of Nina's more predatory smiles. Mark had the idea Nina didn't always appreciate it when he was clever, but she seemed to find it interesting all the same. "You seem to have my number, Mr. Lucas. Anyway, yes, it is a mystery! He's been out of the public eye lately, you see, going to all those clubs of his and spending Father's money like it's made of water. So Father has used his influence with the consulate to make sure you and I both have tickets to the soiree next week. The better to keep an eye on my errant brother, and to make sure he's not about to disgrace the family." "A courtly evening with you? I'd be honored," said Mark with a wink. "You should wear that black dress of yours, the one that shows..." He demonstrated with his hands, and Nina laughed. "I can get my good suit." Sobering a little, he added, "We should bring Trevor and Erin too. They're smart and they're observant, and they're good in a crisis." Very good, as it happened, but there was no need to dwell on the fine details in front of someone who wasn't in their circle of trust, even if she was in his. Kind of. It was complicated. "Your schoolmates. Yes, hmm, I remember them." Nina and Mark had never actually discussed where those superheroes had come from when the Nazi transdimensional assassin had come to kill her for her father's defiance. "All right, I'll make sure there are two tickets..." That evening, with Nina off at her late-night class, Mark called Trevor's 'workphone', figuring that if he got lucky, he'd catch Erin and Trevor together. And as it happened, he did!
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May 21, 2012 Erik Espadas was a man who had faced everything from alien armadas to demons from the foulest pits, a living weapon honed to peerless sharpness by talent and training, a hero who risked his life routinely with no regard for risk or fear of failure. None of which helped in the least to prevent him pacing back and forth across the living room of his family home, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders set with stress as obvious as the fretting expression plastered across his face. More than half a year of mental and emotional preparation had evaporated the first time Willow had experienced a 'fake' contraction earlier in the week. Now, as the rest of the house filled with family and friends preparing, the knowledge that he was about to become a father had become somehow more real. Running a hand across his heavily stubbled jawline, the fencer redoubled the speed of his pacing. "Try not to wear a rut into the floor too deep for my chair to get over," a wry, matronly voice requested as Gina Espadas wheeled out of the adjacent bedroom and over to her son. Still inside, his thankfully medically trained sister saw to the heavily pregnant dryad in what, surprisingly enough, was not her first experience with midwifery. Although Ellie had made the case for handling the whole affair in a regular hospital, Willow's fairly obviously more-than-human nature presented a problematic risk to their collective secret identities. Compromising, she'd asked her girlfriend to clear a section of the Lab's extensively equipped medical floor, intending to use Mara's teleportation technology to whisk the soon-to-be mother there once they were sure she was about to go into labour. In the meantime, the West End home had accumulated the eclectic assortment of characters collectively known as the Interceptors, including the artificial intelligence colloquially known as Vince running on a borrowed laptop and the quietly precocious six-year-old girl Ellie and Mara had brought back along with more than three hundred refugees of a recently destroyed alternate reality. Orphaned by the creatures who had devastated her version of Earth, Yolanda had been staying with Gina and Ellie since a few strings had been pulled to have the former expediently declared her legal guardian. While Vince had elected to have his monitor left in the kitchen area with a joke about staying out of the way, Yolanda had taken up a cross-legged vigil in one corner of the bedroom, silently watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Erik gathered that this wasn't even the first time the little girl had been present for a birth and considerably better circumstances. He found himself envying her composure.
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Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012 8:52 PM The night brought a nice chill to Freedom City, a relief from the heat of the day. A mini-heatwave had fallen on Freedom, the heart of Summer right in the depths of Spring. While the weather forecasts said it would break tomorrow, no one was holding their breath. Cannonade was already sweating under his flight jacket; he thought about the possibility of making a costume that'd allow him to run about in just his shirtsleeves, but tonight was not the night for that. So instead, he hung close to the water, taking in the cool breeze that was whipping up off the water. He ran across the rooftops of dockside warehouses, looking down on the scenes below. There was always some game going on by the Waterfront, if you knew where to look. The smaller outfits competed over abandoned warehouses, using them to store or, in some cases, produce drugs. The larger outfits based their fronts out of the docks, using the apparent import of china dolls or stuffed animals to bring cocaine and heroin into the country. Cannonade slowed as he approached the lip of the warehouse roof, pausing to listen to the voices below. "This isn't what we asked for." "It's been a slow month." He crouched down, taking some cover as he gazed down at the confrontation. Five men in pinstripe suits were engaged in negotiations - the kind that involved wagging fingers and visible firearms - stood toe-to-toe with four men in denim jackets, all looking like some matter of metalhead. Cannonade recognized the patch of the Death Road Ministry on their jackets. "We're not letting you hold this place out of charity," said the lead goon in the suit. "If you think you can stiff us..." "Don't think we care," said the lead Minister. He reached into his jacket. "This is our place now. You can go tell your boss where he can stick that cigar of his." The men in the pinstripes went for their guns, just as the Ministers reached into their own jackets. Cannonade dropped down softly into the nearby alley, moving forward. Pretty good as gang negotiations go. Took thirty seconds for someone to do something stupid.
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April 26th, 2012 9:37 PM Down on the beaches, the crowds were pouring out. The people who wanted to celebrate the weekend one day early, the desperate, the young lovers. Given all things, Nick Cimitiere would rather be there - and he couldn't rule out that his business might take him there. But there were more pressing matters to attend to. The necromancer stalked through the back alleys of businesses and townhouses that served as connective tissue between the Boardwalk and Southside. Over the past few nights, there'd been a number of... "sightings" might be the best word. "Visions" if you believed, or "hallucinations" if you were a cynic. The witnesses, many of whom had had more than a few drinks, had described glowing, ephemeral beings moving through the neighborhood, either flying overhead or tearing through at great speed. One person, especially poetic under the influence, had described them as "more real than real." Nick might have written it off as fancy... if not for Angela Zilani. A local medium of some repute, Zilani had been found dead in her apartment, seemingly burnt to death. The funny part was, nothing else had caught fire. She'd been the only target of something using a very controlled burn. It was safe to say that if these beings were responsible, they really didn't have the best of intentions. It might have been folly to search all of the Boardwalk alone, looking for the first sign of phantom activity. Fortunately, Nick wasn't doing it alone. He pulled out a slate with three glyphs on it - representing his partners in the endeavor - and ran his fingers over the simple trinket, opening a line of communication. "Things are dead out here. And not in the exciting way. Anything on your end?"
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Friday, April 20th 9:52 PM Greenbank was, as always, a place of bones. The bones of old railways. The bones of abandoned factories. The bones of prosperity. Unlike The Fens, known for its vice and its depravity, Greenbank was run-down and barely breathing, with predators already there to feast on the flesh. There were a few sparks of hope in this part of town - community leaders trying to unite the people, businesses looking to set up new factories on cheap real estate, bosses and workers coming together to keep the existent businesses still in operation. Every so often, they'd succeed. But there were times it seemed they were doing all they could to make a dying man comfortable. Nick Cimitiere knew Greenbank well. This place had no lack of ghosts - bums who'd died on cold nights, would-be gangsters whose plans had fallen apart, even a few organizers from the old, wild, pre-labor days. Some of them stuck around out of devotion to Freedom, but many just couldn't find the exits. He was walking in the shadow of an old assembly plant, long since taken by the elements. He'd heard rumors of strange lights shining out through the windows on moonless nights, and thought it sounded right up his alley. If it was some lost soul, or urban explorers, simple enough. But given the nature of the area and the activities that gave it its reputation, he came prepared for the worst. Before he could cross the threshold, however... "Help me! Oh, Christ, somebody help me!" The cry came the other side of the plant, and sounded like it had been pushed out between heaving gasps. Nick ran around the side, trying to catch up with the fleeing man. There were some invitations he just couldn't turn down.
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14 April 2012 The weather is nice today, Eve thought as she looked out across the Great Bay. It was a fleeting thought, and only a momentary distraction from the anxiety gnawing at her, for guests would be arriving soon. Eve was never one for drawing attention to herself--the few friends she had knew she preferred to be the quiet, unseen hand in the background--but there were certain things she was unable to avoid. Unavoidable, perhaps, but not immutable. By floating out an invitation to her friends and teammates, and most importantly Etain, Eve was able to neatly sidestep the preconceived notion of what an eighteenth birthday party for someone of her wealth and status should be like. Taking things into her hands would allow the Martel heiress to do things her way. That thought brought a smile to her face as she slipped back into her room then headed down the stairs, guests would be arriving soon, after all.
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April 2012 It's a typical day at Hallomen's Advanced Experts. The boss is working on a consulting project sent her way from Blackstone Prison, where a seized artifact from a long-imprisoned prisoner has begun to malfunction. Dr. Gateway was briefly a terror in the early 1990s; a former archeologist whose alien battlesuit allowed him to banish his enemies into the Zero Zone, Gateway actually soloed against the Freedom League for a while before Daedalus succeeded in deactivating his stolen technology and freeing the policemen, bank tellers, and superheroes he imprisoned there. Gateway's been in jail ever since, the death of one of his early test subjects having given him a life sentence. With his suit deactivated and the man himself in jail, he had slipped out of the public eye. Until now. It's coming up on the second time the Gateway suit will become active in Mara's custody, and while she works on it, her two top security guards are hanging around in the event that the formerly dangerous piece of supertech comes to life in an inopportune moment. You can't be too careful when it comes to get sucked into another dimension. Looking confident in his security guard uniform, Steve stood by the door with Erin, drinking break room coffee from his new mug. "Your young man's blend is very flavorful," he commented to Erin as he watched Mara at work. "You should give him my thanks."
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April 2012 Steve Murdock didn't have a lot of friends, which was really no surprise. It wasn't that he was anti-social so much as social and he simply weren't on the same team. Of course, that meant when it was time for something important, as in subtly finding out how he should go about pursuing a romantic relationship with his new girlfriend, he had a difficult task before him. Though watching television had taught him a great many things about how the people of Earth-Prime socialized with each other, as had occasional invisible observation, he just didn't know enough. He did know some things, however; a man looking for advice on women certainly never went to his female friends, so Miss Americana, Fleur de Joie, and Dragonfly were out; he'd have to talk to the men he knew like Jack of all Blades and Gabriel. He knew how men were supposed to talk to each other, in smoky bars where sporting events were playing on the television, but one thing he didn't know was how to contact all the people he cared about directly. He'd made a conscious effort to avoid learning the secret identities of his fellow supers, which while good for his peace of mind did make it tough when he wanted to talk to them. So instead, using the new cellphone Gina had repaired for him, he sat in a quiet corner of the bar and called the contact number he'd exchanged with Jack of all Blades after they'd had a few adventures together. This was a social call, but Jack hadn't mentioned this was a line for emergencies only. Some heroes preferred only to be called for emergencies. (Some had stressed that to him specifically) "Hello, Jack?" he said, his slightly mechanical voice sounding much more confident than the last time he'd spoken to the swordsman. "It's...Steve."
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March 7, 4:30pm Even though the Manor was locked as usual, Erin’s key let her in the kitchen door, or rather the door to the largest of the many kitchens. She’d come bearing gifts, and cat as well, a sure sign that she planned to stick around for awhile. Charlie wasn’t the independent soul that his father was, and he pouted if left alone too long, even with sufficient kitten chow. Even now he wasn’t too happy sitting on her shoulder, with her hair still wet from the shower she’d grabbed after work. “Trevor?†she called, her voice echoing in the silent hallways of the Hunter Estate. “Are you home yet? I brought a pizza!†Pausing at the counter, she filled Charlie’s food and water dishes and left him to dig in.
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GM Thursday, March 15 10:15am Tracey Feldman glanced down and reached for the dial on her car radio as a particularly annoying song started to play. She turned the volume down, then looked up in time to see traffic screeching to a halt in front of her. Panicked, she jammed her foot down on the brake, but the wheels of her Toyota just locked up. Unable to stop, she crashed solidly into the back of a Peugeot sedan. The accident started a chain reaction in moments the mid-morning traffic in the North End district turned to gridlock behind a 6-car pileup. As drivers climbed out of their cars to argue, yell and fuss over the damage the cause of the accident became clear. A little further down the road a white Courier's van on its side, the front section of the vehicle a smouldering ruin with tendrils of black fire still writhing around the engine bay. Hovering above the wrecked van floated a robed figure, wreathed in similar black fire. With his arms folded across his chest he surveyed the carnage impassively. Atop the rolled van stood another robed and hooded figure. Holding the injured Courier driver by the scruff of his neck in an impressive display of strength the villain cut an imposing figure and stood with a menacing posture that seemed to dare any of the onlookers to intervene. The back door of the van was also open and a third robed figure was inside rummaging through the the packages and boxes, obviously searching for something in particular.
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GM The spirits were different. Or at least - appeared - different. Both of them were women. Both of them were the incarnate spirit of some idea, some land. Victory and Justice. Perhaps they were one and the same, perhaps not. Even the two superheroes which served each spirit, El Heraldo and Young Britannia, were not privy to their true nature. No doubt a thousand other such spirits (or aspect of one) existed, some given manifest form, some not. However, only two superheroes of these spirits were in Freedom City at this point. And they were chosen. For the message was the same. "I call upon you. Another force like I stirs, but a force malign. The spirit of Lemuria, the serpent empire. It is the spirit of slavery, and cruelty, and dominance. It's chains could break the world... In the War of this land, it was defeated, But now, history may be rewritten... Without talking, speaking, or hearing, somehow both heroes knew where to look. Freedom City Library. The cults of the American Civil War. By Professor James Bottle
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Saturday, March 4th, 2012 2:42 PM Freedom Aquarium The parking lot of the Freedom Aquarium was rather crowded for so early in the year, but the blue and chrome bus with FCTA printed on the side pulled up to the curb in front of the main entrance, and two dozen young men and women of every description piled out. Moving among them, keeping order, where two older gentlemen. Leeroy Hawke was taller than most of the other people on the bus, and dressed in slacks and a turtleneck he still had an air of quiet power around him. He seemed to have an eye everywhere, reaching out to stop a bully from flicking spitballs at an underclassman one moment and the next, catching a young woman as she was knocked off her feet by the press. "Watch yourself, Kirsten," he said to the girl as he set her back on her feet. "Everyone, just take it slow! We'll have time to see all the exhibits, I promise." Jesse Perry was almost the exact opposite of his coworker. Short, with a paunch, and wearing a tweed-with-leather-patches outfit straight out of Ben Stein's closet, he has been seated near the back of the bus with Leeroy but was somehow out of the bus and on the sidewalk before anyone else. He kept both eyes on the students as they filed out of the bus, making sure no one wandered too far off. "Everyone, just keep together. We need to make sure everyone gets off the bus, first." He spotted a junior in a pea coat and jeans. "Morgan Crowe! Make sure the underclassmen don't wander off!"
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Large Hill, Wharton State Forest, A Few Miles Outside Freedom City March 2, 2012, Early Afternoon Corbin stood at the foot of the hill, currently wearing a rather rugged hiking outfit, hauling around a decent-sized backpack that had a few snacks and a lot of drawing materials. One might think he was out simply to try and capture the beauty of the wilderness; the fact that he had several topographical maps, geological surveys, and other such materials stuffed in the bag would bear witness to a more solemn purpose. Currently, the bag was sitting on the ground, and he was standing there, concentrating on sketching out the hill's outline, occasionally adding some numbers to various points on it. He took a break to sip some water, wolf down a granola bar, and glance at his watch, raising an eyebrow. 'I know it's out of the way, but I figure Trevor would have been here 35 minutes before me, or at least before the meeting time. Hard to say with Nick, don't know him as well.' He just hoped they didn't take too long. He had a date with Quo-Dis planned tonight, and while this planning would be important, he didn't want to spend the whole rest of the day on it.
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Eve Kurosawa seemed to never stop working. When she wasn't doing her duty as Jade Dragon, she was attending socials for the family business. The latter was happening tonight. February was American Heart Month and Kurosawa Inudtries was holding a fundraiser for the American Heart Asociation with all the procedes going to the Association. Mostly it was for rich people to mingle and show who had the biggest pocketbook. There was fine food, entertainment was provided by a political comedian, and of course check presentations. Eve had a few invitations for guests of her own, the few friends she had were either already invited or, well, people that wouldn't get accepted on the guest list. High society was bitchy like that sometimes. One friend she wanted to keep in touch was is Keith LaMarr, better known as Wail.Even though he was old enough to work in her grandfather's time, she saw him as personable old guy. She would ask him for advice, like a mentor. Though they never really called each other mentor or student. She approached him a week earlier and asked him if he wanted to go. If so they would have to get him a suit.
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GM Friday, February 10th 10:52 PM Riverside was, as usual, bustling, especially along 4th Avenue. The place where City Center met Riverside, it was where the industrial forests of downtown began to give way to the townhouses and nightclubs of the bohemian district. If you had a tendency to buy what they said in Lonely Planet, it was where the business suit was traded for evening wear. The streets were thronged tonight - the weekend had begun hours ago, the work week was well and truly dead, and many were hitting the town to celebrate. Two individuals, however, were most definitely not there with pleasure in mind. Arrowhawk and Midnight were patrolling the neighborhood, moving through on their respective routes. As others moved through the main streets and sidewalks, they kept to the back alleys, side roads, and rooftops. They had passed through the neighborhood on the same night on many occasions, their patrol routes often keeping one from noticing the other. Who knew if they would meet tonight...
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Amongst all the drama, be it world-threatening or simply teenage growing pangs, it was often easy to forget that Claremont was first and foremost a place of education, albeit one with a truly unique curriculum. Given the broad spectrum of powers and abilities the students were there to hone, it simply wasn't feasible to have an expert in each and every area on staff. Instead, part of the senior students' own development involved aiding their underclassman peers where they were able. So it was that Eve Martel, the supremely talented telepath and telekinetic better known in some circles as Sage, had organized something of a study group with two of the school's junior students who both hailed from outside the United States and were versed in the application of mind over matter. While Kristin Jones, the redheaded Australian who sometimes went by Glow, had by far more raw telekinetic ability than the spectral Deceased-Canadian Kimber Storm, the gregarious Ghost Girl, the object of the exercise was in fact fine control. Eve had instructed them to meet her after afternoon classes in the campus' zen garden, a secluded and rarely visited spot free from distractions. Unfortunately, tranquility was not one of the words most commonly associated with Kimber, who bobbed up and down excitedly in the air as she arrived, the light of the waning sun washing through her translucent blue form, obscuring her outline from the right angle. Although it was a perfectly calm day, the poltergeist's hair rose and fell as though caught in an unseen wind or current. "Am I early?" she chirped eagerly.
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February 2012 Shoreline Battered and bruised, the members of the Liberty League watched as the Yamato Kaiju collapsed to the beach in a shower of burning debris, the robotic titan originally constructed by the finest engineers of the Imperial Japanese Army, circa 1943, finally defeated by the combined efforts of Freedom City's legacy super-team. Once forty feet high, capable of breathing radioactive fire and shrugging off heavy weapons fire, now it was nothing more than one more shattered legacy of World War II that had crashed against the rocks of the next generation of Freedom's heroes. It was cold on the February beach, but the brilliant red and white flames rising from the burning skin of the fallen robot dinosaur kept the more fragile heroes like Edge warm as he studied the fallen wreck. Mark wasn't one for a lot of abstract thought, but even he was moved by the sight of the fallen behemoth. (Well, mostly because while his allies had all taken their lumps against it, no one had been seriously hurt.) The Yamato Kaiju had walked across the seafloor from Truk to Freedom City, most likely going around the Straits of Magellan to avoid the Panama Canal, had survived nearly seventy years only to emerge onto the land and be beaten by the Liberty League over three long and difficult hours. "Okay, team," called Edge, stepping back from the burning dinosaur and feeling the slight ache from a near-miss that had turned into a sunburn thanks to his brush with radioactivity. "Let's-" Suddenly, up in the sky some thirty feet overhead, reality collided with reality as two shining chrome spheres the size of a Greyhound bus erupted from the same space and moment and collided with and fused with each other simultaneously. The twisted double-mass of metal came hurtling downward and smashed into the surf, just too far away for the heroes to reach before impact, kicking up a sheet of spray and sand as they landed.
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Thursday, Jan 5th, 2012 The crowd outside Fun Time Toy's main lobby had begun growing as the unveiling of their newest product line came closer. The company had managed to keep what exactly it was under wraps, using everything from harsh Non-Disclosure Agreements with their employees and contractors to false leaks declaring everything from a line of Freedom League action figures to working hoverboards. When the announcement had been opened to the public and not just to the press, demand and interest had spiked. The entry fee for the public had also included a gift basket with a random selection of the company's catalog. The speakers setup outside the entrance crackled to life. "Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Please step back from the doors and have your ticket ready. Our friendly staff will guide you to the exhibition hall where the new line as well as complementary donuts and drinks are being served," a male voice sounded over the chilled crowd.
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The Pine Barrens Thursday, January 4th, 2012 2:32 PM In all honesty, Cannonade could think of better places to be on a Thursday afternoon off from work. Walking down the Boardwalk, or getting a coffee and snack at the Black Petal. But here he was, flying in a helicopter over the Pine Barrens, looking for strange trees. Then again, he had to thank AEGIS for getting him out of work in the first place. They'd called him up with the assignment, and one call to the steel mill later - apparently cellulitis was the hot thing this year for sick day excuses - he had the next few days off, fully compensated. Which meant he was waiting for the other shoe to drop when Commander Grayston, who'd put him on the Nina al-Darsah job earlier in the year, swung by his apartment. "Aerial surveillance over the Barrens caught these a few days ago," Grayston had said, tossing a folder Joe's way. He'd picked it up and flipped through it. First was a photo from the sky, of a seemingly endless row of the famous pine trees of the Barrens -- only the needles were ash gray, and falling out in clumps on some trees. Next came photos from the ground, depicting the trees in more detail. The branches seemed to have grown in upon themselves, swelling until they burst or wrapping around themselves, and the trunks had turned the same pale color as the needles. A before-after picture, complete with time stamp, showed an AEGIS agent, clad in an NBC suit, taking an axe to one tree -- and felling it with one chop, as a large chunk of the base seemed to turn to dust with the impact. "...so, what, really local forest fire?" Cannonade had asked. "Budding firestarter?" "There was no chemical evidence of a forest fire -- no smoke traces, nothing. And unless this theoretical pyrokinetic could shut off his own fires, the damage would have spread farther than this. No, we've seen something like this before. Farmland around Salem, Massachusetts, 1927. Something fell onto a local settlement, spreading effects similar to the fallout of a nuclear explosion... only much more concentrated and with more mutagenic properties." "Great. Nukes. Mind telling me what this thing was?" "If we knew, we'd tell you. The phenomenon... vanished, just as quickly as it appeared. All any eyewitness could describe it as was a 'color,' similar to the Northern Lights. In any case, this seems to be the highest burst of damage from whatever it is - odds are that was the impact site - but we did find subtle evidence of a trail leading east. It's only a matter of time before this thing finds civilization." "And you want me to go in before it gets there," Cannonade had said. "All right. Mind if I make some calls?" The rest of the Liberty League had come out at the call - well, except for Ace Danger and Bombshell, who were still tied up in some sensitive business in Saudi Arabia - and, attended by more than a few AEGIS technicians, they scanned the Barrens from the air, looking for some sign of whatever was prowling through the woods, spreading blight as it went.
