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11th October 2021 7.13am Sanchez's had been in Hardwick for around ten years now, a little café just off Pelecamos Street. Despite the sky-high rent; the business had trundled along by sheer popularity: the food wasn't complicated, but it was good; one of those places where the menu was an inch thick but the chef seemed up to the task. The windows were dusty and grimy, never quite able to get clean, the green paint around the frames flaking and worn to the decaying wood. The interior wasn't especially well lit, the walls painted in a splash of terracotta red, rows of small tables lined against either wall, leaving an alleyway leading to the creaking, worn wooden counter. "Eggs!" came a loud voice from behind the counter, a plate of the breakfast food being set on the ledge of the service hatch. Various commuters and early risers had already begun to filter in, some sitting down to their breakfast, some queuing for coffee, the two waitresses rushing and bustling to serve them with a smile. Osla stood in the line behind a couple of grumbling old gentlemen, sullenly looking to all as if she was ignoring the world. Her Converse were worn and tied loosely, her black jeans ripped at one knee. One hand was thrust into the pocket of a battered black leather jacket, the other hanging loose at her side, a white dressing on the palm, pink with blood in the very centre of it. Her impossibly blonde hair was pulled back in tight braids, pinned to the side of her head in looping coils. It didn't do much to hide the beginnings of blue and black bruise on her forehead. The shipment she'd stopped at the harbour last night had been more heavily guarded than she expected. One of the men clearly had combat experience, and she'd had no choice but to grab his knife. It could have been worse. At least she hadn't been the one being headbutted through a set of broken floorboards. The man at the head of the line filed back out of the store, the bell above the door ringing as he set off into the cool morning, cup of Joe clenched in his hand in a paper cup. Expression unchanging, she went to step forwards, pausing for a moment. One of the waitresses bustled past through the newly formed gap in the line, an apologetic smile on her face and a plate of pancakes in her hand. As soon as she passed, Osla took a step forward, moving along with the line.

The Espadas School of Self Defence and Swordsmanship! 202 Fall (early November), a Saturday morning (probably after So Cruel and Beautiful) Davyd Palahniuk had graduated from the Claremont Academy a few months ago, but still wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He'd had a few ideas, and one of them -- after overhearing Uncle Sasha gripe about "government spooks" -- had been worming its way through his mind for about a year. He'd tried doing his own research on it, but, due to the idea's nature, he could only get so far. But then he remembered someone who had (it was rumored) fist-hand knowledge with the idea, someone he'd met (briefly) last April. The idea gained traction. And so he had returned to The Espadas School of Self Defence and Swordsmanship!, dressed plainly and simply -- brown khaki pants and a long-sleeved gray tee -- and knocked on the front door. Should I have called ahead? I probably should have called ahead. Or maybe not calling ahead was the right move? The initiative, the element of surprise...

GM In Victori, where the Horror and Heroes collide and the last battle will be fought. At the end of a story that has happened before, and will happen again. How much time had passed since Eira had parted with Pan and Micah? Since she had gone her own way in this world of stories? It was difficult to say. Weeks, at least. Months? Maybe, but probably not. Pan's world was strange. Especially now here, at the end, when the tales were starting to break down around her. The sky was dark, in the middle of the day. Not a cloud in sight, but an armada of flying ships blocked out the sun. Behind them, at the coast, the greatest of the ships dragged the monstrous Crocodile out of the sea by golden chain, leading it towards what remained of Victori. As the ships descended, Pirates leapt from them towards the city. Their mouths and eyes sewn shut, they moved as if they were puppets, scouring the city for all that remained. The Crocodile smashed the great clocktower by the coast, sending the remains tumbling into the streets below. "What a marvelous creature," Frankenstein mused, as he witnessed the destruction. Eira, Doctor Frankenstein by her side and her army of automatons were all that stood between the people of Victori and total destruction. And yet, there was a bright light out across the sea, shining in the horizon.

GM The Last Outpost Cantina Outskirts of Dreeda System The Last Outpost Cantina, so named because it was the last watering hole for days in any direction, was having a quiet night for once. The bartender surveyed the scene, which mostly consisted of a few locals sitting at the bar quietly drinking, and a few patrons he didn't know were keeping to themselves, having a quiet conversation in the corner. The overhead fan spun lazily overhead, and muffled music came through the bar's crappy speakers. Yes, it was certainly looking like a pleasant evening. No fights to break up, no guns to confiscate. No rabble tonight!

GM Somewhere in Egypt Early August, 2021 Things happened, as they tended to do. A contact at Danger International had informed Veronica Danger about an ancient stone tablet that might be connected to her amulet. She had gone to Egypt, she had found the tablet, one thing had led to another... and now she was riding a bike through the desert, pursued by a group of cars and bikes. She wasn't really sure who was pursuing her, but their leader seemed to be an angry little man with short black hair and a pencil moustache. He was seated in a jeep that leapt across a dune behind Veronica, sweating profusely while he yelled something about somebody just shooting the damn brat.

Lor Star Navy 3rd Strike Group [AKA the Spear of the Republic] .3 AUs from the remains of Lor Van Lor time mark 1972.3 [April 7th (Terran Calendar)] Chiliarch Valerius Detinson , was a high-ranking member of the Lor Star Navy. In command of an unconventional warfare focused strike group, the Chilliarch was always ready for war. The carriers in his fleet were armed enough with enough firepower to bombard any Khanate property for days on end. A fact that his men were quick to brag about. Those of whom weren't bragging about which generation clone of Valerius they were. Despite the access to the advance medical technology of the Lor fleet, Chilliarch Detinson's body was a tapestry of his 70 years in the Star Navy. Scars adorned every inch of his scalp. A cybernetic replacement sat where his eye would be. And even his uniform looked outdated by modern Lor military standards. He was not exactly the sort of man to reach out lightly. So the weight of what it meant when Valerius reached out with a coded message to the capital Valerius was not taken lightly by the Capital. It wasn't long before many arms of the Lor Star Navy including the Republic Colonial Scout Corps and even the Praetorians were brought in. So that Chilliarch Detinson could describe. Two Lor exploratory vessels had managed to disappear without a trace. It was confidential information that the Lor would not share with outside parties if given any other choice. A week ago a second wormhole had appeared near the former capital of the Lor Republic. Running parallel to the existing wormhole it created a somewhat stable Roman Ring with chronological readings whose applications had yet to fully be researched. So two exploratory vessels complete with multiple armed scout ships were sent to survey the land once the wormhole was deemed stable. But, as soon as they traversed through the spatial irregularity all contact was lost. The ring is now showing signs of fracturing within another week and with it the wormhole. If it disappeared before the missing Lor would be lost. Possibly forever.

Millenium Mall A summer afternoon in 2021 Charlie had learned a lot during his first year at Claremont. Time travel, juggling life with the rest of the Raven Family and life at the academy, and of course his own unstable little group that he had got together to deal with Casanova and his crew. Last time they'd met? Cas had tried to brainwash Muirne. Something had to be done about it, and well... not like the rest of his friends knew of his relationship with the headmistress. Charlie, Muirne, Leon and Luke were at the Millenium Mall, at a burger joint, sitting around a table. Just hanging out, talking. He hadn't been able to get a hold of everyone, but this should be fine, right? Lowering his burger after a bite, he finally asked the question he'd wanted to ask. "So... y'know that whole New Young Freedom thing that Casanova's got going? How about we start our own team?"

Fall 2021 The Espadas School of Self Defence and Swordsmanship! Things were changing in the Espadas household this year between Min's twins, Raina's recent 21st birthday, and now the arrival of the two timelost teens from Burma. Owain and Neko had, in their first weekend, been consciously perfect guests - both ready to volunteer for any task around the house that was asked of them, neither of them in much mood to get into detail about their lives before they came here. (Neko had her own obstacles there, for that matter.) When they returned, they had a little more to say; or at least Owain did. "And so between the two of us, James, and Simon, it seems fele of the class is from some age other than this one!" He was gesturing with his knife as he spoke, thrusting vigorously and speaking loudly. "Who knew this would be the year of people wrested from another age to come to this one? Withal, to answer your question, sir, it goes well. Haven't seen any carrying any particularly fine weapons, but when I do, I'll see what fires their heart." For her part, Neko simply nodded, catching the buckwheat soba noodles around her chopsticks and popping them in her mouth. These were a fair approximation of the food she'd eaten back home, but not quite the same. Her ears and tail were seemingly out of view at the table, though the hair on her head was still a mixed patch of white and brown and was obviously cat hair rather than human. It was nearing the end of dinner; it was almost time for the younger children to head for bed. "It is okay," she agreed after Owain was finished speaking. "My roommate is very nice."

Kord Dormitories, First Floor Claremont Academy, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 4, 2021 Like the rest of the dormitories at Claremont Academy, the first floor of the Rita Kord Dormitory was a scene of somewhat controlled chaos. Classes were set to start early next week after Labor Day, so the dorms had opened up this weekend for new and returning students to get moved in.

Kord Dormitories, Third Floor Claremont Academy, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 4, 2021 The start of another school year was only a few days away, so unsurprisingly the Claremont Academy campus was abuzz with activity as parents and students descended on the school's dormitories. Amid this activity, a pair of teenage girls with bright red hair made their way from the parking lot toward the Rita Kord Dormitory. At first glance, one might have assumed the two girls were twins, except it was not just their features that were completely identical, they were both dressed in the exact same grey and black plaid skirt and white top. In fact, the only difference between the two was that one was carrying a suitcase and had a backpack over one shoulder, while the other was carrying a box. Bernadette O'Connell glanced back at her duplicate that was carrying the box behind her, letting out a slight sigh at the unintended display of her powers. The teen was glad that her older brothers had stayed up in Boston when her parents had driven her down for the start of the year at her new school, as there had been a few times where the family mini-van had gotten a bit too crowded. Hopefully this new school would help her learn to prevent things like that. Reaching the entrance of the building, the redhead glanced up towards the upper floors a moment before looking back down at the letter from the school that had her room assignment. "Alright, third floor, Room 308." She stated to her duplicate with a slight Irish accent, even though it was entirely unnecessary to communicate that out loud. Her other duplicate that was still back at the car with her parents also knew where the floor was located and could guide them up there when with the remainder of Bernadette's things.

Kord Dormitories, Second Floor Claremont Academy, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 4, 2021 Like the rest of the dormitories at Claremont Academy, the first floor of the Rita Kord Dormitory was a scene of somewhat controlled chaos. Classes were set to start early next week after Labor Day, so the dorms had opened up this weekend for new and returning students to get moved in. Trying -- with some small amount of success -- to control this chaos was one of the floor's Senior residents, whose towering 6 foot 4 inch height made it easy for him to oversee most everything around him. "Two lines, please, one in, one out... no, no, stay to the right side of the ha- no, your right... Ho! Lift with your knees, not your back! Wait there a moment, I'll- oh, yes, sir, that's right down there, next to last on the left..." Try as he might, there was only so much Heroditus could do to control the Surfacers, but he had grown more accustomed to and accepting of their ways in the past few years.

Kord Dormitories, Forth Floor Claremont Academy, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, September 4, 2021 After a Summer back in her apartment in New York, along with some time at the Summers family home, Callie had already moved back into the dorm. Now she was sat in the common room checking her social feeds, waiting for new and returning students. Apparently older her wanted her to take some more responsibility so had tasked her with being the floor greeter for the new school year. She was giong to do her best, in was in her blood after all, but she wasn’t going to make an effort until absolutely necessary.

GM Rodney, Suburb of Freedom City Thursday, 13th of May 2021 11:30 AM Once, Rodney was a peaceful town, known best for its fantastic sandwiches and its beautiful bells that rang out the hours. Once, Rodney was a free town, with people going about their daily business, children going to their schools, and the occasional tourist coming to visit the historic churches and official buildings. Once, Rodney was an ordinary town, with fine, law-abiding people and a gentle pace of daily life. Once, all of these things were true, but no longer. A week ago, a man with dark rock skin streaked with gold led a group of armed criminals into. Working together, they took the mayor and the rest of the city council hostage, and the leader, who called himself Ex-Prisoner sealed all the police who resisted his authority in stalagmites of pure obsidian. Since then, he and his gang have begun ruling the streets by night, even pulling in a few of the more corrupt cops as they rampage through the streets. The rare few reporters who managed to get word out of the town were swiftly hunted down and captured - or perhaps even killed. No one seems to know. Rodney needs heroes, desperately. Fortunately for the town, it is right outside Freedom City, home to one of the greatest concentrations of superheroes on Earth. Okay, @Kaede Kimura, @Lone_Star, @Spacefurry, let me know how your characters have heard about Rodney's situation, how they've met up, and so on.

Friday, June 4, 2021 5:56 PM Ryder would have been the first to admit that Shredded Beat, which billed itself as hopefully the first annual festival for local independent and amateur metal bands looking to break out, was a little outside his comfort zone. But Eira had insisted that this was the perfect place to stakeout the mysterious guitarist he and Danica had run into in later February and after a goat-like Ragin had wreaked havoc in the West End the month prior until a few of the Interceptors made short work of it she wanted to be there the next time one of the strange, musical demon constructs appeared. The upperclassman had told him to come dress appropriately but in typical fashion had considered the specifics of those instructions to be self-evident. Ryder had turned to the only fashion expert he knew who specialized in monochrome: Natalia. Which brought him to a milling crowd around the Liberty Park bandshell in a pair of black pants that hugged his legs like a second skin, a sleeveless t-shirt featuring a band name with lettering he couldn't begin to parse and a pre-owned leather jacket Natalia had studded across the shoulders with an insect wing design. He tugged one more time on his leather choker, fastened in front with a small padlock, before forcing his hands back down to his sides. He'd painted his nails an uncharacteristically sombre black and hoped that the sparkly top coat wasn't going to be an issue. He caught one of the other attendees giving him a side eye as they walked by and gave them a terse nod, trying to lower his register for a brusque, "Hey, how you doin'."

Late June 2021 The Iceberg A dark, sleek dynamo at five foot three, Kalinda Kaur had moved through the AEGIS base with a bright smile and firm handshake. The Vice-President was known as a critic of law enforcement outside but inside she'd been nothing but professional, even friendly, as she'd met with everyone from Director Bonham to the lowest office drones. She was the sort of protectee that liked to bull ahead of her bodyguards without so much as a backwards look. Luckily they'd spent most of today down in one of the most secure sites in Freedom City. Special Agent Ashley Tran, on special assignment to the Vice-President's detail, had done her best to blend into the agents who occasionally had to jog a little to keep up with 'Desi'. Jim Ward, the VPOTUS's usual detail head, had proved to be philosophical about the whole affair; something Ashley appreciated. This was supposed to be a big day. In just a week now, Paul Revere would make his Fourth of July debut as Patriot II - a new hero for a new generation! The program had been founded in the early days of the Cahill administration but the O'Connor administration had embraced the idea, even if Revere (who had been left quite the blonde, blue-eyed Aryan superman by the DNAscendant treatments he'd been given) wasn't quite the kind of person the O'Connor administration tried to promote. Ashley had heard about the program in its early days, even if her duty to Judith Cahill meant she was never seriously in the running for it. The man who had actually gotten the position? She'd met him, even sparred with him, having been brought in to test his facility with hand-to-hand combat. He was cute, certainly; she liked big, muscular alpha males and the fact that he was a cop wasn't bad. But something else was...not right. - The Iceberg was home to a small studio, where against a curtained backdrop, Revere was practicing his speech. He stood behind the podium and gave the cameras a winning smile as he continued: "Not too long ago, two friends of mine were talking to a Cuban refugee, a businessman who had escaped from Castro, and in the midst of his story one of my friends turned to the other and said, "We don't know how lucky we are." And the Cuban stopped and said, "How lucky you are? I had someplace to escape to." And in that sentence he told us the entire story. If we lose freedom here, there's no place to escape to. This is the last stand on earth. And this idea that government is beholden to the people, that it has no other source of power except the sovereign people, is still the newest and the most unique idea in all the long history of man's relation to man. Whether we believe in our capacity for self-government or whether we abandon the American revolution and confess that a little intellectual elite in a far-distant capitol can plan our lives for us better than we can plan them ourselves. You and I are told increasingly we have to choose between a left or right. Well I'd like to suggest there is no such thing as a left or right. There's only an up or down - [up] man's old-aged dream, the ultimate in individual freedom consistent with law and order, or down to the ant heap of totalitarianism..." "Well he certainly can handle himself in front of the camera," said the Vice-President thoughtfully, "even if he does sound he's Ronald Reagan personified." She looked a little skeptical, but many of the agents in the room looked very interested in what the man had to say. Ashley knew for almost certain that one of the agents, a star-struck young sound engineer from Oklahoma, was actually sleeping with Revere on the sly. She hadn't said anything, but the number of people she could talk to about any of this was damn thin. "Beth, are the defense contractors on schedule?" Ashley knew for sure that they were; Alek and company wouldn't be late without finding a way to let her know, so while the Vice-President (and technical head of the project, answering only to the POTUS himself, who was back in DC getting ready for the holiday) chatted with her immediate staff, Ashley looked around and spotted maybe the only other person in the whole Iceberg whose knowledge of superhuman tactics wasn't theoretical. "Agent Zermeño," she said cooly from behind her shades, "a word?" She cocked her head towards the studio control room door.

Summer 2021 When Raina's phone rang, it was from a contact she'd actually picked up from Talya - the one Talya had just dubbed Anna. "Hey! Is this, er, a secure line?" The woman on the other end had a heavy, old-fashioned Jersey accent, the kind that Raina associated with very elderly people or cartoons. "Because I got yer number from Talya, see, and she said you were the right person to help me with a job."

GM An Eastern Seaboard Bank in Wading Way, Freedom City October 19th, 2020 11:45 AM It was peak hour, just around lunch. Everyone wanted to get banking done today, it seemed, and the bank had been stuffed when the gunmen arrived, rushing out of two armored vans and into the bank. They moved quickly, efficiently. They were trained, not just the run of the mill thugs, and they had the equipment to back it up. They were all dressed in black body armors with blacks masks that left only their eyes free. It wasn't quite clear what had happened inside, but a single shot was fired, followed by a burst of gunfire, and then, the hostage situation began. Ten minutes later the police had barricaded the bank. All they knew was that if anyone entered, the gunmen would start shooting the hostages. No demands, nothing. It was a stalemate.

9:00 am Monday 28th September 2020 Summers Advance Designs, Jasmine House, Downtown West 66 Downtown West 66 was a rather modest skyscraper that housed a legacy of the Summer’s family, one that could be coming to an end very soon. The massive Majestic Industries corporation was looking to buy out the company, what with Jerome King holding a place on the board. They were obviously hoping that the Summers had no interest in the future of a company they had little to do with for the last couple of decades, but a Summers never lets go of the past easily, especially one that was specially to there beloved…

Early Summer 2021 Strange noises often came from the vast honeycomb hives of the giant bees, towering as they did as probably the tallest artificial structures on this planet these days. Songs and dances like distant rumbling thunder, noises of birth and death and a million other things, one sometimes learned to tune them out. At least until a giant bee comes buzzing in, loud as a helicopter and long as a truck, zooming in overhead and landing in a large green space in the midst of human dwellings, roughly equidistant from the homes of the guardians of this planet. It was Super-Bee, wearing her domino mask large enough to cover the front of a Mack Truck. "HEROEZ!" she buzzed. "I HAVE CAUGHT AN INTERLOPER!" Sure enough, she seemed to be holding a struggling human pinned against the thick, sticky hairs on the side of her leg. "HE CAME FROM ZOME PLAZE WE COULD NOT ZEE!"

GM 3:25 AM, 1st of July, 2021 Kingston, North Freedom Criminal activity had recently been on the downturn in Kingston, despite its desperate populace, low police presence, and proximity to the dread Doomforge. Many, especially those outside of Kingston, attributed this to the hideous heat that had been overwhelming the city of late, while others pointed to the hero activity several months prior in the Doomforge giving criminals something to think about. People in Kingston and the FCPD knew otherwise. Unconscious criminals have been discovered bound to streetlamps, ladders, fire escapes, and more. Normally, this would be cause for relief, but the state they have been found in is of great concern - their bodies slashed and cut, pierced with extreme prejudice. Though they have all survived, the fact that their wounds were so vicious has many dreading the dark. The Raven also heard even worse news - scattered about the scenes, and sometimes still sticking out of the criminals were small, sharp shuriken stylized as talons, and the terrified criminals reported being attacked by a cloaked figure with the mask of a raven. Regardless of how effective this new vigilante was, they were causing the innocent to fear as much as the guilty, to say nothing of the fact that they were besmirching the name of the Raven.

Summer 2021 It was an innocuous enough sound in one of the many bathrooms in Midnight Manor; the sound of running water. Erin had heard water running at odd times before, usually when Aquaria had snuck her way in from the backyard to get more water. But Aquaria was back in her apartment with Jessie and even Trevor was out of the house right now, leaving just woman and cat to deal with the mysterious sound. As she approached the door, she could hear loud, boisterous splashing from inside the bathroom, as if something had filled the tub and was having one heck of a good time in there.

Late July 2021 Freedom Hall Okay thought Ashley, looking at her helmeted face in the women's bathroom mirror. It's just a normal briefing as part of a larger team meeting. You're going to introduce yourself, say you hope we'll have a good working relationship, and tell them what happened with Revere. We're all adults here and we're not going to fight over territory. Under normal circumstances, she'd have gone in without the mask and secret identity, but there was no reason in the world to have the Freedom League looking into the affairs or for that matter recent professional whereabouts of Secret Service Agent Ashley Tran. She took out her phone and texted a quick Going in. Talk to you later, babe. ? to an anonymous number that routed out to the depths of space before turning off her phone, putting it in her jacket pocket, and tugging it down to match the lines of her costume. No use looking like an ass. With that, and with a deep breath, she walked out of the bathroom, walked down the hall, and headed into the Freedom League meeting room.

Emerald Spider Downtown Freedom City Around dawn, 1st July 2021 Peri hadn’t expected to explore Freedom quite so quickly, she blamed jetlag that meant she was full of energy at this ungodly hour. Not knowing where to get good Kimchi in this city she’d instead decides to swing arounf the city and get her bearing. She’d alraey found the place where the Air Conditioning conference was going to happen, the reason she was in the city for the rest of the week, and had tried a New Jersey hotdog. It was amazing how excited and yet blasé the local were about superheroes. Sitting on the roof finishing her hotdog she wondered how long it would be until she ran across any, if you watched the news you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting onw and by now she sure sighting of Emerald Spider had already started to make there way to social media.

GM Claremont Academy March 9th, 2020 Afternoon, after class Aside from Casanova and Stinger's grudges, things seemed to have calmed down considerably since the fight between New Young Freedom and the group of young heroes in October. New Young Freedom had resumed their patrols in December and, so far, they seemed to stay on the straight and narrow path. Well, things between the two groups had been mostly calm. A week or so before, Muirne, Luke's girlfriend, had been teamed with Sebastian for a project. Soon after, she had started talking about how maybe Sebastian wasn't that bad, that Luke and the others should try to give him another chance...

Ghost's Apartment in the Fens A few days after he met Fleur de Joie Casper was pacing around in the apartment, looking at his phone. He had been thinking about this for a while now. Should he use Comrade Frost's number? It was a leap to make, skipping all those steps and asking about getting into the Freedom League, and he still wasn't sure if he even wanted to join, but Carrie would think it'd be cool if he was a member of the Freedom League, right? At least once she finds out about him being Ghost. Could be nice to have some support network, too. Did the Freedom League offer a stipend or payment or anything like that? Casper looked around his tiny apartment. That... well, it wasn't the important thing, but it wouldn't be bad, right? Probably not what he should lead with. Breathing out heavily, he sat down on his and looked at the phone. Alright, alright. Fleur had given him this number, he should use it. Worst that could happen was a no, right? It would probably be a no, but he had to try, at least. Punching in the number, he waited for Comrade Frost to answer...