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Moving a couch was much, much easier to do when you could stuff the couch into a spatial fold and pull it back out where ever you darn well pleased. Less lifting, less backache, less sweating. No uncomfortable questions about how, exactly, she'd gotten it up there and into her apartment: she had an even stricter set of requirements for her new living space than she'd had for her new business building, and one of them had been no neighbor access. The building was old but reliable, and the front door led to only two things: a well-secured, windowless emergency stairwell, and an elevator. Not cheap, but she could afford it, and it wasn't expense for the sake of expense - the building was nondescript and she'd chosen her piece of it for things besides the price tag. Let the big business billionaires spend money on fancy, state-of-the-art apartments just to show off their wealth; she'd happily go with something comfortable and reliable with a hell of a view.
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Johnny stood outside the door leading into the small apartment in little India on Freedom's West Side. For a moment, he hesitated, debating on whether to knock or not. Stalling, he checked over his clothes, a nice lightweight beige slacks and a white cotton button down shirt which hung nicely off his broad athletic shoulders, and decided again for the thousandth time that they would have to do. Which left him staring at the door in front of him. Inside, he hoped, was the girl he had met at the Renascence fair. Who, beyond being very pleasant company for the afternoon, also seemed to do just fine while tangling with dragons. He still was stunned and surprised at how that had all turned out. Which led to him being here, on a Friday afternoon, at the door of a girl he had only met once and only had walked around the fair with. "Well she did offer to teach you the Charleston..." he said quietly to himself. If she was in, and if she hadn't been kidding, he had found a band that could play all sorts of swing pieces. That coincided with a dance hall which didn't mind renting the space for a few hours as long as they could have some of their own students practicing as well. Perhaps it was a little forward, but it had taken a fair amount of work to find Lucy and her small apartment, so he figured why not? Searching archives of the city's papers as well as some internet work had uncovered scant little information on her. Although it narrowed down the areas she seemed to work in. Her home had been harder to find and required both some deduction as well as asking a lot of people in the area if they had seen a "pale, elegant, woman perhaps in her 20's". It had taken a couple of days and some greased palms, but he had a place and here he was. The moment of indecision passed, and he knocked on the door hoping there would be an answer.
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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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GM In most cities there are a few of these special places, tuck away only know to the locals and the lucky souls who know about such places. This was one such places a Jazz club tucked between two building looks totally innocuous, no signs showed where or what the club was called. The club had no official name but most called it after the one of freedom's cities finest jazz musician who use to play there during it heyday of the 20's and 30's Chester's. It had survived everything from the Great Depression to more recent events. The club was currently owned by Bobby Johnson who claimed to be over 90 but only looked around half his age. The only reason people believed him was that he could remember details of things that happened since the late 20's in meretricious detail. Thanks to his efforts the club was filled was jazz of all kinds all day's with the best acts even being payed for the pleasure. Of cause in the evening the best act would own the stage and Bobby would sit in the corner holding court and listening to the acts.
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With such a diverse student body, the Claremont Academy dormitories featured a number of unique rooms. Some of the teenagers living there required specific conditions to better replicate their native environments or furniture constructed of materials that would be proof against their own abilities. Others had cultural concerns or entirely personal preferences. The school went to considerable lengths to ensure that all such considerations were accounted for, but for two of the newer enrollees, even the basic room design was superfluous. Kimber floated idly in lazy circles just below the ceiling of the room she shared with Indira, making a close study every nook and cranny as she attempted to while away the hours in the middle of the night. The space below was spartan indeed, with neither girl having much to contribute beyond the standard beds and desks that had already been there when they arrive. Of the former, neither had much use as for their own reasons they had no need to sleep; in fact, they might have been cut off from electricity and heat without noticing, the necessities of living humans meaningless to them. Unfortunately, with the vast majority of the city needing to rest for the night, it was very easy to become bored. Having completed her thorough examination of the long crack in the ceiling for the umpteenth time, the translucent blue phantom heaved a sigh before turning downward to address her Kinigosi friend. For whatever reason, she'd taken to shifting the appearance of her clothes to flannel pajammas at night, purely as an affectation. "D'you think they'd let us paint the room a more interesting colour?" she inquired without warning or preamble.
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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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Trevor Hunter stood outside the towering Parisian office building looking upward with a faint frown. The reserved young man's face was too schooled to give away whether it was apprehension, frustration or general glum despondency tugging at the corners of his mouth, but at least to the young woman accompanying him, it was clear that he was not looking forward to visitation to come. Dressed immaculately in a deceptively simple but obviously well tailored suit, the dark haired engineer certainly blended in with the bustling stock brokers and deal makers hurrying in and out of the glass doors before them, chattering loudly away on cell phones in a dozen languages, primarily French, naturally. "So," he began, turning toward Erin with a fairly transparent stalling tactic.
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"So are you listening? So are you watching me?" 6.30pm Friday June 8th 2011 Siobhan Drake sighed as, once more, she was stuck in the tedious task on going through her email inbox and getting rid of all the cranks, naysayers and the occasional threat (and tonight, one slightly scary marriage proposal), to filter down to those people who actually wanted her help. And what she saw made her sit up so rapidly that it dislodged a sleeping Hayley from her perch on Siobhan's shoulder and go crashing into the waste paper basket. <What? What's going on? Who's on fire?> "Get the cordless phone," said Siobhan, clicking her fingers to turn into Equinox and stepping away from her laptop, but not before sending one quick message saying that help was on the way. "I'm calling for back-up."
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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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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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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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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 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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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 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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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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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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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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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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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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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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GM May 19th, 6:37pm News had been slow to travel, but it didn't matter, there was still time. The prey was shopping, moving around the mortals like she was one of them. Didn't matter, she could move as she pleased, however, that ritual was unacceptable. Not that she'd get to do it anyway. It was not hard to do, child's play really, something easy to replicate, simple magic. The hunter let the illusion was over him, into that of a young man, not much older than sixteen with jeans and a U2 t-shirt. Leaning out of the ally, he watched as she came into sight. The bag's strap snapped with easy, and it was a quick trip to sprint past her and down back into the alley.
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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: July 13th 2011 It had been two months to the day that Willow and Thrude had joined the Interceptors and moved into the brownstone apartment building. At least the goddess of thunder and lightning had moved in immediately; once the novelty of being indoors had worn off, it had haven some convincing to get Willow to actually use the room she'd been provided with rather than sleeping in the oak tree in their backyard. Even so, it was in those branches that she could often be found, and so it was there that the fencer known as Jack of all Blades went looking, dressed in simple civilian attire as he stepped out the back door. "Hey, pretty lady," he called, sauntering into the summer sun, "you around?"
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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]
