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GM September 7th, 2011 The sun had not yet crested over the trees around the clearing, the smell of jerky and mead still tried to crest over the smell of unwashed bodies. Even though it was only 10am there are many people present. Tents, booths and lean-to's line the makeshift corridors at the Freedom City Renaissance Fair. Some of them selling items, others with small games of skill. In the center is a large competition ring where jousting, archery and other medieval events will take place over the course of the day. Performers dressed in medieval garb weaving their way through the 'streets' proclaiming their thee's and thou's. Overall it was shaping up to be a wonderful day at the fair!
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June 23rd, 9:48 PM Shadows were long as the sun was finally setting on the hot, hot, hot summer night and Silhouette was seriously considering a new costume. Leather was nice in the winter, it was cool in New Jersey weather and good for keeping warm during the long winter. The summer however, well she was just glad she only did this at night because otherwise she might of passed out in the smoldering rays of the daytime sun. Practical considerations aside, Sil's wardrobe did it's job, as she walked against the walls of Southerside she just looked like a personless shadow wandering the streets without much notice.
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GM Warehouse 13 - Waterfront District - Freedom City Amid crates of every shape and size standing silent sentry, sounds of scuffling slither through the shadowed storehouse. "Careful with those crates Joe, Boss don't want 'em damaged," the largest of the men whispered harshly. "Keep yer lid on, Paulie, and keep yer voice down! You want the entire city to wake up to yer yammerin'?" Joe cuffed the bigger man on the back of the head as an exclamation before turning back to the task at hand. The other three men worked in silence, forming a line between the door and the back of a large box trailer attached to a semi-truck. Their eyes darted from side to side, pupils almost completely dilated in the blackness. "What's got you mooks spooked eh," Joe asked, handing off a crate to the nearest in line. "There's been stories, about more fish men comin' from the waters. They say they come at night and drag you down into the ocean. They say-" "They say a lotta things don't they Paulie," Joe sneered derisively at the superstitious lout, believing him soft-headed. "Huh-huh-huh," was Paulie's reply. An out of place sigh echoed through the warehouse, and a disembodied voice reverberated through the rows of stacked crates. "Sometimes what they say, my friends, turns out to be true."
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September 12, 2011 Not long after their meeting in Paris, Edge made his own way to the Chateau Relais, following the plans laid down by Midnight and the more experienced heroes on the team. I guess I can't really call it Young Freedom; that belongs to the Claremont kids and anyway some of them aren't really that young! He'd hidden in plain sight as a UNISON employee on break, renting a car at the Bern airport and chatting volubly with the clerk there about how great it was to be in Switzerland and how much nicer it was than his usual African posting. From there, a car ride up to the mountains had taken him to the Chateau, where the last few weeks before the first real snow of the year had left the roads empty and quiet as he drove up and up towards the Chateau at an impressive 10,000 feet. Once there, he was all the cheerful, loud American tourist, buying a jaunty Tyrolean hat and parading around in it while he butchered German for the amusement of the locals, eating a huge breakfast in the chateau's impressive dining hall adorned with hunting trophies from all over the region. There were quite a few people there already, Japanese businessmen and quiet Swiss and Germans alike, and he let them see him without a trace of apparent artifice. The more of that that was in place, the better; who could be suspicious of that loud tourist in the silly hat? He kept a close eye out for his team, however, knowing that they'd find ways to contact him once they were all in place. Of course, with some of them, they'd be obvious even to him...
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Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Omnia Mutantur, Nihil Interit and ArchEvil: Gestalt Theory. The foe was abominable, and the battle long, but the heroes prevailed. A great pseudonatural beast from beyond time and space, something which had apparently been slumbering in and influencing the science hero Doktor Viktor Archeville, had been banished, but at a terrible price. Archeville, reborn to a new (now fully human) body, stared at the spot where the fight had been, wrapped in his lover Fulcrum's cape, the only thing of her that remained on the battlefield in North Bay. She was gone, swallowed up by the explosion of Terminus energy that expelled the beat; chances were even of them either being atomized, or tossed into some other dimension. Archeville's mouth hung agape. He stared, bleary eyed, hands still reaching out where Fulcrum had last held them. Mona...
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"Pip pip....peeeep!" Lord Lucien Lockwood, aka Lord Steam, put down his paper, and (somewhat vexed) stubbed out the cigar he had been enjoying. These colonials, he had decided, did a rather rum job with cigars. Damn nuciance he had to put his out. The copper tube in his office was full of odd dials and readouts, with wires sprouting like roots from its base and leading to his workshop and laboratory at Steam Manor. A puff of steam let loose from the top. "Yes yes, M, what is it?" he said, momentarily annoyed. Damn inter-dimensional telephone. "Oh yes?" he said, interested. "Not really my cup of tea, the Music Hall, but seems like quite a mystery...I'm tempted to take it on though, you know..." M interrupted Lord Steam, who stopped and listened. "...a singer? a lady singer? well, that's probably beyond even Madam Redpowder's expertise" he replied, thinking of the elderly ladies marvellous make up and disguise skills. "But certainly, I can take a look see if we could recruit anyone here..." He paused. "...maybe someone British even, now I think about it. Not proper our British, of course. Second rate dimension here in Earth Colonial, of course. But I have may have heard of somebody..." Within a few minutes, he was scouring the library and making some phone calls.
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September 21, 2011 Freedom Hall Under normal circumstances, Freedom Hall might be evacuating through the teleporters rather than through the garden, but then it was only recently that Freedom Hall had gained the services of the famous Fleur de Joie. Lacking the power to journey into space, and having freshly returned from his unsuccessful visit to Heaven, Freedom Angel was focused on the people now, moving through the small crowd of citizens who had been called up as part of the League's emergency evacuation program: there were heroes' families here and dependents, a sampling of survival experts and doctors, anybody who could help set up a camp on an alien world and maintain it long enough for the heroes of Freedom City to save the day. "God is watching everything we do," Freedom Angel assured the small group of families; mostly Navy families from Lonely Point, who were next on the list, "and He watches over us even now. Have no doubt that with His guidance and with the courage and skill of the Freedom League and the other heroes of the world, we will save this planet and everyone on it." "So why do we have to go?" asked a combative-looking girl of about 12, giving the angel a suspicious look. "If everything's going to be okay, why can't I stay with my mom?" Her dad was holding her, hands on her shoulders, but it looked like he had questions for the angel as well, and even as he heard the little fwoop that signaled a successful transfer of the other group, the angel knew he had to say something to satisfy these frightened people. "Because we need your mom to help save the world," replied the angel seriously. "The base at Lonely Point is helping coordinate the League's war with the Gorgon and her creatures in the depths of space. And if your mom knows, and if all your families know," he added, speaking now to the larger group, "they'll be able to concentrate on helping save the world, not just worrying about the ones they love. It's a tough duty," he added. "I know you would rather stay here with the ones you love. But this is a sacrifice we have to make the world that we know and love can be guarded. Sanctuary is a fine, green place," he promised the others as he opened the garden door. "You will love it. Fleur, are we ready for the next group?" he called.
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September 25, 2011 Bayview, Freedom City Claremont Campus GM The Claremont campus was usually calm, no matter what was happening in the city. A Grue Invasion, the dead rising, squadrons of Metaceptors in the sky -- whatever it was, Summers worked hard to make sure it didn't get over the walls. However, the imminent destruction of the world wasn't something any one man could shield his charges from. He'd done the next best thing, though -- the students on teams were assigned around the city, and other students to wanted to were helping as best they could. Next-Gen was standing by at Blackstone; Young Freedom was protecting Freedom Hall while the League was busy elsewhere; the Alterniteens were keeping an eye on the Lab while the city's super-geniuses enacted their plan; and the Irregulars were holding the fort at Claremont. At the moment they were assembled in the zen garden, looking for a last moment of peace before the storm broke. The uneasy silence was broken by the sound of heavy, clomping boots on the path. Glowstar looked up to see a slim man wearing a black and white jersey shirt, loose slacks spilling over heavy boots. The new arrival took his headphones off an hung them around his neck, waving to the Irregulars. "Hey guys. Summers though you might need a little extra muscle, so." Christopher Beck slammed his fists together, and in a flash of light Megastar was standing there, towering over the group. "He called in the alumni. Cool, right?"
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September 26, 2011 9 AM The first mission of the new Young Freedom, at least upon their return from their world tour, was to guard Freedom Hall during what just might be the end of the world. Headmaster Summers, and the older students, had reassured the new kids that this was in the finest tradition of Claremont's premiere teen hero team. Sharl had been away for the last couple of days, and so he'd missed all those reassurances about what kinds of threats Young Freedom had faced before. Of course, for those students not used to world-threatening disasters, those words were not reassuring. What had been reassuring, in a martial sort of way, was the stern speech they'd all gotten from Lady Liberty before she and the rest of the Freedom League had departed. "Listen, all of you. I know you're teenagers, and I know you didn't sign up for this." She'd paced back and forth in front of all of them, meeting each gaze, even the ones who looked away. "But the world's in peril right now, and that means it's time for all of us who can help to do our part. The world's going to be saved, I can promise you that, but it's going to take each and every one of you to do that. The Freedom League needs to go into space to help organize our defenses on the Moon against the Gorgon. That means someone needs to watch Freedom Hall and make sure none of the artifacts here fall into the hands of supervillains. The last thing we need is a world where we've beaten the Gorgon but lost our homes to supervillains who've seized control of some of the most powerful items in the world. Are there any questions?" she asked them. "If any of you do want to back out now, now's the time." They'd have an adult chaperone for this one; Mr. Archer having left the gym behind to act as their guardian while they guarded the centerpiece of hero history in Freedom City. Things weren't pleasant outside, not with the demonstrators protesting the League's 'inaction', nor the continuing violence in the streets that Freedom City's adult heroes were doing their best to handle. Hell, there'd been an outright battle near the Claremont campus between the Irregulars and a Claremont graduate who'd gone berserk from the stress! Inside the League's briefing room, though, all was quiet as Lady Liberty's question echoed in the room.
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North Bay September 22, 2011 While interstellar monsters weren't the specialty of anyone on the Liberty League these days, the new superteam was on high alert as the Gorgon's approach brought a dawning chaos the world. They'd only been back from Switzerland a few days, but those had been busy days for many of them between the Gorgon's coming, Edge's visit home, and of course various changes in Wander's general lifestyle. The wealthiest neighborhoods in town had so far avoided the panic beginning to gnaw at the poorer areas of the city, or at least that panic had been confined to the interiors of beautiful mansions rather than on the wide streets. North Bay, the home neighborhood of Ace Danger and the Midnights, had locally been the scene of one particular set of bizarre local disasters: localized thunderstorms had rocked the area for nearly 48 hours, flooding the streets, blowing tiles off roofs, and worst of all setting several homes ablaze as lightning strikes rocketed down from the sky in the middle of the 'North Bay storms' as the news was calling them. No one had died, yet, but several people had been hospitalized from electrical shock and at least one home, the Munoz manor near the waterfront, had burned to the ground with total loss of property. It couldn't be a coincidence, and so the new team had gathered together beneath Midnight Manor to discuss evidence and options.
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September 26, 2011 The West End 9 AM Things were in a bad way in the West End, what with the upcoming apocalypse. The Gorgon was only about thirty-six hours from making contact with the Earth, her silvery shape as clearly visible as Mars in the clear Freedom City night sky, promising a doom for all humanity should she get closer. The Freedom League was fighting the Gorgon and her train in space; the Lab crew had gone into the sky to unlock the scientific secrets of the monster coming to devour the Earth. (Sure, that wasn't technically her mission, but good luck telling that to the man walking down the street listening to apocalyptic street corner preachers pronouncing the imminent doom of man to all passersby.) There was a war in space, but a battle on the streets was imminent. Street-level heroes had been busy catching crooks and putting down disasters, but there were so many threats. The heroes of the West End had reason to be a little understaffed these days, anyway...The flashpoint came outside a local bodega near the Espadas home, when two uniforms from the local FCPD station came out to move one of those doomsaying street preachers off the streets. This gentleman, though, a wide-eyed man with thick glasses and a "PRAY FOR MERCY" sandwich board hung around his neck, wasn't willing to give in. "What's the point of doing what you pigs say?" he demanded, his fear rallying the crowd of onlookers who'd been listening to his sermonizing (and, not incidentally, blocking the door of the San Domingo Market whose manager had called them in the first place) to shout at the cops. "We're all gonna die anyway! The supers have run off! They left us to rot down here on the streets while they ran away into space and into their fancy other dimensions. Don't we deserve the right to have a little happiness now before she takes us all!?!" he exclaimed, pointing to the sky as the crowd roared. Normally West Enders were a bit more skeptical than this, but nerves were fraying. "How dare these fatcat shopkeepers keep what they have when the end is coming. I say, let's take what we want and give them a taste of their own greed before we're all gone! Who's with me?"
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September 20, 2011 The Lab With the Gorgon's announcement, it became transparently obvious to everyone at the Lab that their time was up. They had to get a team out to the Gorgon now and throw mortal science in the face of the all-conquering space god in order to save all of humanity from the threat in the sky. And so it was that, mere hours after the Gorgon's announcement, the Lab crew was working feverishly on their planned insertion into Gorgon space in order to gather the sample nanite packages that just might give them the information they needed to bring down the mighty Gorgon once and for all. Of course, since she had turned out to be an body with the dimensions of the Earth itself, now cleaving her way through the Kuiper Belt on a course directly for Earth. She was 40 astronomical units away, having appeared in the middle of the belt thanks to her gravitic warp, and would be close enough to Earth to begin its conquest in just seven days.
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September 24, 2011 11:15 PM Nick Cimitiere tended to the main hall of the Parkhurst. He knew full well the ghosts would've been happy to help, but he'd decided to give them the night off. They were back in their quarters, passing the time, while he waited for some sort of miracle. He took a look over the Parkhurst - it was still hard to believe that, six months ago, it was effectively abandoned. The ghosts had kept it in order, but it was still a husk, soaked through with the essence of tragedy. Now it had become a formidable center for magical thought. The workshops were fully functional, the dimensional portal hadn't yielded up anything hideous yet, and the scrying crystals mostly stayed on target. It was a tribute to what could happen if a bunch of like-minded mystics put their mind to something. He hoped tonight would have similar results. It had been four days since the Gorgon had appeared in the skies above Freedom, issuing its dread ultimatum. In the time since then, Freedom City had fallen into panic, and it had taken most of his strength for Nick not to follow with them. In his line of work, he was familiar with multiple apocalypse scenarios - molten steel drowning the earth to burn the wicked, giant wolves eating the sun, and other such cheery scenarios. For all of them, though, he'd never heard of the possibility of the earth ending in stone. Bet Frost is kicking himself for not thinking of that one, he thought to himself as he finished up preparations in the main hall. He'd borrowed a few pastries from the Black Petal's freezer; the rioting hadn't spread to Riverside yet, and the store had stayed open, wanting to remain loyal to its customers during the "brief emergency." That was the Freedom City way - stand defiant in the face of angry gods. It had worked against Omega, against the Grue, against Hades... He just had to hope it would work this time. He took his seat, and waited for the others to arrive.
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Once Becky was safely in the hands of True North and Kimber had done all she needed to do at her old homestead, Young Freedom's members young and old crowded aboard the regional jet flight from Thunder Bay to Detroit. Though Sharl could easily have emailed himself straight to the DPD mainframe and searched as he would, he made a point to stay on the plane with his colleagues. He was acutely aware of how alone he was out here, so far from the few people in Freedom City he did know, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate the people who were supposed to be on his team. He was here to be part of the real world, to make connections and alliances that would give him the tools he needed to protect Tronik; hell, he was here to have adventures in this wide-open alien world! This wasn't the time to get into stupid arguments with his friends. So while the others socialized, he took the opportunity to crack open his laptop to connect to the local satellite network (carefully using a tightly-focused IR signal that wouldn't interfere with the plane's own navigation) to research their target: Koshiro McMillan of Detroit, Michigan, and the city itself in the process. Detroit had once been a center of petroleum-based industry that had fallen on hard times, and looking at his laptop screen, it looked like things hadn't gotten any better. Freedom City was sparse enough, but a city like Freedom that had lost so many of its people was a strange thought to contemplate. There must be so much to explore! When his search came up with something, or rather, something that was nothing, Sharl said "Hmm...it says Koshiro McMillan's record has been sealed by the order of a judge. So I don't know. What kind of things would cause someone to be held in a juvenile detention facility?" he asked, pointing to the address on his computer that matched where they'd been told to go.
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August 10th, 2011 Lincoln 12:11 AM Freedom City was a prosperous burg, a shining city of progress and opportunity. In recent history, the cleaning up of the Fens was often touted as an example of how things were getting better. But for the citizens living in Lincoln, time might have decided to stand still. This was very evident late one night (so late it's early in the morning, as the joke went) on a corner deep in the neighborhood. The building was a glass-walled box that had changed hands between various entrepreneurs; at the moment it was a Qwik-'n'-Buy. Something things always stayed the same, like the high school kid manning the counter at such a late hour -- and the four other teenagers with big guns, wearing ski masks. The two with shotguns (one pump, one sawed-off double-barrel) were keeping the cashier covered while he emptied the register; the pair with pistols (one revolver, one Walther PPK knock-off) were ransacking the shop, showing a distinct preference for TV dinners and alcohol.
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GM Street Life Images of Homelessness in 20th Century America Southside was not the wealthiest area of Freedom City. Far from it. Poverty and homelessness sprung up like boils in little pockets. It constantly struggled with social problems. Today, a tiny shot back was occurring. Francis Fernando, a local businessman and amateur photographer, had lent out his warehouse to do a small free exhibition and fundraiser, showing paintings and photographs of homeless people of Freedom City over the last hundred years. A lively little crowd had gathered, from minor businessmen, campaigners, locals, social services, artists, and sponsors. It wasn't going to change the world, but it would help raise awareness, raise a little money, and maybe make people stop and think for a bit - the homeless weren't just faceless masses.
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September 1, 2011 Jordan International Airport Freedom City International Terminal This is not why I joined UNISON thought Mark Lucas, keeping his annoyance off his face and a smile on it as he listened to his charge's complaints. "You have a UNISON escort because you're the daughter of a head of state of a UN-recognized nation," said Mark, feeling a little silly in his blue UNISON uniform. At least they hadn't made him wear the helmet on the plane. "and because Dr. Typhoon made the request personally." Princess Nina al-Darsah, the youngest daughter of Typhoon, the arch-nemesis of the Freedom League-turned-Middle-Eastern head of state, was about Mark's age. About to begin her first year as an FCU student, Nina was on her way back to Socotra for an urgent meeting with her father, who had requested not just a UNISON escort for his daughter but the most powerful agent in UNISON's employ. In fact, the man's exact words (as Mark had seen) had been "only the mightiest among your pitiful ranks is suitable to give security to the daughter of TYPHOON!" Pulled out of his camp on the Ivory Coast for this, Mark had spent the last day in the company of a gorgeous young woman with her father's tan skin, black hair, flashing eyes, and with the personality you'd expect from the daughter of one of the most absolute rulers on Earth. It hadn't been his favorite trip. "That's the third time I've made you tell me that, Agent Lucas," said al-Darsah with an amused smile as she folded her hands before her. They were sitting next to each other in the first-class cabin, Mark's uniform and her Socotran dress with its merger of Arab and Indian styles having gotten a lot of attention along the way. "You're very obedient. I was hoping an agent of the United Nations would have a little more gumption. But I suppose you'd have to be good at following orders to wear that uniform of yours." Oh, what the hell. If he was going to spend an entire transAtlantic flight next to this woman, the least Mark could do was try and make it interesting. What was the worst that could happen? "I'm good at all kinds of things, Princess," replied Mark with a warm smile as he turned on the charm. "And my job is to make sure you make it back to your father in one piece. And when we're done, if you'd like to see me out of uniform, I'd be happy to oblige you." He smiled, and actually got a blush from Nina, who'd evidently not expected that comeback. Out of high school and on his own, he'd only recently become aware of how good he was at flirting when he really put his mind to it. "In the meantime, though, the other passengers are arriving. Let's not give them any hint we're anything other than seatmates." They'd boarded the plane through a separate door for security, but since it was a regular commercial flight (Freedom City to Paris with a layover, and then to Socotra's big airport on the main island), the regular first class passengers were about to embark.
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Lucy sat on the roof outside her room allowing the sight and sounds of Little India, and the rest of the city wash over her. She had just returned from seeing the latest Bollywood blockbuster with her boss/friend Padma. For a woman use to the silent black and white movies of the 20’s the riot of sound and color was a revelation to her. And she had loved every minute. A chance to dress up she had abandoned the drab black suit she had worn since her awaking for a colourful summer dress and a pair of wedge sandals.
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The King of Suits' left boot was still atrociously grimy from the scrabble up the building, with long splashes of mud, raw sewage, and the occasional piece of random detritus that lined the sewer tunnels leaving their marks all around his costume. The smell of the place was even more abominable than the dimly-lit sights that the young man's eyes could make out, a putrid, wafting stench of death, decay and waste hammering his nostrils like a really bad hangover. Only its noxious odor made it more like a bad combover, something obvious and utterly unbearable, but which you had to suffer with, and hope no-one said anythin- The caped and cowled man stopped abruptly, wondering what was wrong with himself. Shaking his head, he kept on down the strangely spacious and broad sewer tunnel, dodging the odd rat, reservoir dog, rodent, and large insect along the way. He had come down into the disgusting underworld due to a tip given him by one of his slightly-crazier acquaintances, who had told him about a gathering of rather well-armed people near back-alley sewer entries, and references to a 'Worm' of some kind. Hoping and fearing simultaneously that it was indeed the dreaded Conqueror Worm, the King of Suits kept his mouth shut and trudged on, his eyes peeled for any signs of a trap in the dank depths.
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After cloaking herself from the mind's eye of her fellow heroes, The Scarab flew up through the labryinthine corridors of her Lair, to her secret backup control rooms. Once her keen psychic awareness was satisfied that she had not been followed, she opened the secret doors that no one, not her former comrades on the Freedom League or Viktor Archeville or any living soul but Sofia Cruz or her mother knew about. Then she hastily activated the extra layers of redundancy in the security systems which she hoped had evaded the "Good" Doktor's notice during The Lair's refit. [bg=#BF0000]I doubt any of this will stop him. But it might delay him, and right now, every second counts.[/bg]
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Wander had no idea why she was patrolling tonight. It was way too hot for anyone to be committing any sort of crime. Even up on the rooftops where there was a bit of a breeze, she was about to melt into a puddle inside the very sturdy, very long-sleeved and long-pantsed new uniform Frank had made her. She definitely preferred winter patrols. Normally she wouldn't have been out at all on a night like tonight, but with the city still unsettled from the latest world-shaking threat, who knew what could be going down? Not to mention the fact that Trevor was sleeping and every goddamned time she closed her eyes she was back on EZO1 and that wasn't where she liked to spend her evenings. Even Freedom City in the melting summer heat was better. Late in the evening she found herself down near Lincoln, not her usual territory, but a place where she'd spent some time. She'd patrolled every neighborhood in the city during her training, just to get familiar with them. There seemed to be something interesting going on here, at least. A lot more guys than usual wearing a lot more clothes than seemed necessary on a night like this were walking furtively down the streets, heading towards what looked like some old factory. Her nose caught the scent of smoke on the air, and dimly against the sky she could see puffs coming from the big old brick chimney. Curious, she began to draw closer.
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While Trevor Hunter leaned against a wall of the quaint tailor shop's back room, the portly but genial Frank Jr. made a few final alterations to Wander's new uniform. With their Claremont days officially behind them, the new outfit was something Trevor had intended to have ready for Erin immediately after graduation, but with the steady stream of crises that had followed, they'd only now managed to make it in to see the portly but genial friend of the family. Fortunately Frank had already had Erin's measurements and had a very nearly completed version ready and waiting when they arrived.
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The growing group of young metahumans and aliens found the flight to Canada considerably less eventful than the one to India, but their reception was equally less warm. There was no one to greet the four teenagers as they disembarked at Thunder Bay International Airport after a brief stop over on the west coast, walking through the long corridors of shopping establishments before finding a local map and a set of hastily scrawled directions left for them at the information desk. The path marked for them in ballpoint pen left the city and traveled northward, into what looked like a wooded area. The desk attendant's sunny smile flickered briefly as she glanced at the location of the broad X indicating the route's destination, but she was evidently too polite to say anything unbidden. At the bottom of the written direction, on a page that had clearly been torn out of a journal, the scratchy penmanship finished, DON'T stray into the woods. And thanks. --DS
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Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Terrible Bosses and News. In one of the darker corners of the historic waterfront of North Bay lay a spooky old house, complete with a graveyard off to the side: the home of Jack and Taylor Faretti. In the middle of the seldom-used street which ran by it, a pinpoint of blue-grey light appeared, which exploded into a great sphere. Out of this strode a grim figure in black and blood red armor, followed closely by six figures of equally dark, though very familiar, mien (one notably taller than the others). "Come along, Auffängers!," ArchEvil commanded. "This Doktor has a housecall to make!" ArchEvil stopped mid-step. "Auffängers," he said between gritted teeth, "secure the perimeter... and find the witch, the vampire, and their abomination of a child!"
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Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Terrible Bosses Just as Ferros reached up the ring the doorbell on the building Doktor Archeville had instructed him to go to should he feel he was ready to audition for the fabled Interceptors, the building collapsed, threatening to fall upon him! Inside, in the secret basement lair of that team, Geckoman, Thrude, and Willow had just witnessed the team's secret benefactor -- Archeville himself, now some sort of hideous fish-man! -- usurp control over the core members of the team, then teleport away with them as he ordered Vince, the team's AI 'mascot,' to activate the building's auto-destruct, bringing it down upon them!
