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GM 1st June Mid morning Lecture: Violent Death - From theory to practice, Doctor Getrude Whallington-Bridgecastle Dr GWB welcomed the group of four Forensic science students into the cold air and metal furnishings of the morgue. Lamentably, there was only one corpse to examine, a rarity in Freedom City. The consensus opinion that Dr GWB was a stiff, prentetious and deeply clever pathologist who had a reputation for marking exams harshly, and being just as harsh in her teaching sessions. And yet, she had the deep knowledge and occasional acidic wit that kept her in her job. She clearly was somewhat aggreived that she only had once cadaver on which to wax lyrical, but she was determined to make do. The dead body was clearly a thug. Tattoo's of skulls, machete's, dancing skeletons and murder. Scars from knife fights, dreadlocks, dark brown skin, medallions - this was presumably a member of some Carribean-origin gang. A Yardie. Even the most inexperienced student amongst the four could give a good guess at the mode of death. The corpse had the centre of his chest blown out - a ten inch diameter hole straight through. Looked like a shotgun blast. At close range. "So, who would like to walk us through the preliminary examination?" asked Dr GWB, her eyebrows raised in challenge, peering over her rimmed glasses, her bronze hair wound tightly into a bun. Her hands gripped a clip board and pen in eager anticipation. She would be taking notes...

Greenbank Railyards Mid-March, 2022 Natalia had mixed opinions on Greenbank. She did actually like urban decay as a design, all the crumbling signs of what was, the traces left behind of the people that had been through before you, the little signs of life and business still ghosting through to show that the place wasn't completely abandoned - but the best version of that was always clean, in her mind. Not sanitized, but less raw garbage piled up. In her ideal world, it would have smelled better. More rust and crumbling brick, less ammonia. "He's promised me that he's not here on work," she was saying as they walked down a sidewalk that was slowly losing a fight against grass and weeds. She'd worn boots for this trip - something broken glass or rusty metal wouldn't get through, that complimented skinny jeans and a loose black top with golden stitching. "That probably means it is work, just not the kind that causes any real trouble. He wouldn't lie if he thought I would find out and catch him on it."

June 13. 2023. Freedom City. Hanover. Terrifi-Labs. -Labs was the one bedroom apartment Terrifica had converted into her personal headquarters in Freedom City. She’d sent Patriot II the address after her little advertisement caught her attention. It made Terrifica perhaps a bit uncomfortable having a government agent knowing where she hung her hat, but whatever. So here they were. Sitting where, in any other apartment, would probably be the living room. Here it did double duty as the only public space. The actual dining room was full of electronics and technology. She slid a tablet across the table they were sitting at. Patriot, naturally, was seated on the opposite side of it. “Please confirm I have all of the details correct. Your scenario, the opponents, etcetera. You’re also confirming that you understand that this technology is, technically, in the experimental stages. My efforts may have reduced any risk to the miniscule, but it is still there.” She crossed her legs. “With that confirmed, we can go the next room and get started.”

Katastroff Consulting A subsidiary of Archetech The Claremont students had all followed up on the advertisement posted in one of the Claremont common rooms. "NEED SUMMER CASH? CONSIDER INTERNING WITH KATASTROFF CONSULTING! SCIENCE - FOR EVERYONE!" The smiling face underneath was a mostly-familiar blonde in a white labcoat, Eira having been a contemporary of Luke and Leon in her last year and her first year at Claremont. She looked to have aged since then, perhaps puzzling for an android, clearly looking to be in her mid-twenties as she ushered them inside what turned out to be a rather small, hastily-assembled office. The walls were bare and painted in a bland shade of off-white, lacking any decor or artwork to liven up the room. The space was lit by overhead fluorescent lights that cast a harsh, sterile glow over everything. The only furniture appeared to be a desk with a chair behind it and a couch and chair in front of the desk. There was a faint buzz from the lights overhead and the sound of recirculated air from somewhere, but the room itself was a little stuffy. "Hello!" she said, putting on a big smile for the three Claremont students. "Luke, Leon, and Carmen, yes?" Her Swedish accent was faint but noticeable as she spoke to them, gesturing for them all to have a seat. She gave them all a big smile and spread her hands wide once they were all inside the room. "I am so glad you all are here!" She smiled again, her teeth perfectly white, and folded her hands in front of her, unconsciously beginning to crack her knuckles as she spoke. Everything will be fine. We will get this done and they will have a fine adventure. "This will take no more than twelve hours," she told them all reassuringly, "are you all prepared to be away that long?"

Dutemps Building, Château de Martel Early Afternoon, Around Lunchtime Eve leaned back in her office chair and sighed, rubbing her eyes and fighting off an encroaching headache. She needed something to eat, and to see the other ladies of the Castle. She gave herself a gentle mental chiding, reflecting that it was so typical of her to jump straight into to tackling the pile of paperwork tied to the company, the tower and the city projects she had instead of taking some time to reconnect with her friends. "Yeah," she said out loud, padding off toward the kitchen, "Food."

The small marina was residential, if one could call it that, dotted with houseboats that were just a little bit too small to be luxurious and probably not really seaworthy enough to handle more than a few small waves out in the bay. It was the sort of place where you bought a boat if you wanted to live on a houseboat rather than take one down the coast; the sort of place that had to get its mail from mailboxes by the marina office and where it was hard to find you if you turned off your phones and didn't give directions about which small secondhand house that was technically older than you was yours. It was perfect for the Patriot. Most of the time. Of course, now she had company just a couple of days before Christmas. Ashley stood at the bow of her houseboat, gripping her mug of hot cocoa tightly to stop her hands from wringing together. Everything will be fine. Ellie and Mara are good people. These are your friends. So what if that friendship had come from Ellie being the only underclassman to make her laugh out loud when they were Claremont students. It had been a good start, even if they'd mostly lost touch with each other until after she'd moved back to Freedom. She turned her head, surveying the small space where she lived. It was a beautiful December day and the sun was shining brightly, casting a cold bright glow on the water. It was pretty, anyway, even if it was cold out. That was why they weren't sticking around, she was going to show them around her place, have some hot drinks, then maybe walk down to the nice Arab place down the road. The truth was, Ashley had been nervous - and she was nervous. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a guest other than Fa'Rua - and even that had been entirely too long ago. She had scrubbed every surface, arranged the furniture so it didn't look like a crappy bachelorette pad in here, and even splurged on some new throw pillows for the tiny couch. Now, as she glanced around the front room, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. She slipped a hand into her jacket pocket, fingering the box there, and tried to steady herself. She'd made important decisions, especially after her talk with Stesha on her birthday. She was doing the right thing. She tried to push the negative thoughts aside. Everything was going to be fine. She had worked hard to make this day special, and she was determined to enjoy it. It was going to be a freaking magical afternoon with her friends. Once she was done cleaning up. She grabbed a broom and started sweeping the deck, repressing the catastrophic planning urge that had her remembering where her life jacket was and how long she could hold her breath for the swim out to the nearest water access to her motorbike.

July 4th, Monday, 2022, 4.33PM Sunset Hill, Emerald City, Oregon, USA One hour after a giant bowling ball almost crushed the Liberty Dome... Fort Cutler was well-named, a broad, square, red-brick mansion shouldering its way between other, milder mansions clustered at the top of Sunset Hill, overlooking the grey Pacific Ocean and the glittering twin Emeralds below. It was an open secret in the contacts that the Clines maintained that some of the most successful supercriminals in the world, retired by reason of age or injury, lived behind these handsome doors. Richard Cline was looking for two in particular, Preston Cutler and Josephine Sherman. A few decades back, they'd done crimes as the masked duo of the Sportsman and Princess Poison. Tony played the Robin Hood gimmick by robbing sports events and showing up world champions at their specialties (barring a spectacular defeat at the hands of Bruce Lee), while Josie prowled the society circuit for daring (and deadly) jewel thefts. Both had been pals and accomplices of Richard's in his youth, and they'd eagerly kept in touch well into their current age, even asking him and Paige to be godparents for their now-grown son, Michael. And, very recently, a giant bowling ball exactly like one of Preston's had nearly crushed the Liberty Dome where Richard, Paige, and their children had been. The Cutlers hadn't picked up the phone when called, and somehow couldn't be contacted by less mundane means. And so, here he was. In answer to his knock, the door emblazoned with a stylized 'C-S' swung in, and a trim old man with a neat black suit, a bristling mustache and great wings of white hair peered out. It took a second before his resemblance to Diomedes, one of the deadliest assassins of the 20th century and vicious rival to the second Bowman, sunk in. "Oh!" he blinked, smiling warmly, "Young Mr. Cline! What a pleasant surprise! Mr. and Mrs. Cutler are in the garden, hosting an Independence Day party. Dr. Devastator just got out of prison, they thought it fortuitous. Shall I show you to them, sir?" He stepped partly aside, silently acknowledging that Richard knew the way and could get there *very* quickly.

Leonard Fox Auditorium, Claremont Academy Rosalind Sommaripa, reluctant director Roselind mused she had a special kind of luck, the ability to be at the right place at the wrong time. An offhanded comment that they put on a play this year for the parents, had fallen on the ears of an enthusiastic teacher. It ended up with her even meeting with the Headmistress with promises of extra credits for the idiot that would run the whole show, that idiot being her! So sitting in the auditorium, waiting for both whoever had been roped into helping and those who wanted to audition, she wondered what play they should pick. Worrying that she should have already decided this, if not the whole thing had been a little bit of a whirl since she’d mentioned the idea. Currently, she was flip-flopping between One with the Night and Centurion (if she only had a few shows up), at least they should have an advantage with the special effects...

GM Friday, December 17th 7PM Riverside The Benedict Sans Office Tower 25th Floor The Benedict Sans Officer Tower was a newer addition to the Riverside skyline. It towered over its neighbors as an collection of office floors. Importers liked its proximity to the river and as did start up tech firms like to distinguish themselves from their Hanover counterparts. Representatives from numerous technological and import companies, both local and from outside the city, gathered for a pre-holiday party at the offices of Dumass and Prude Imports. The offices occupy most of the 25th floor. Networking and deal-making was done under the veil of festive cheer. Everyone knew the party was a thinly disguised ploy at gaining favor with key companies. Everything was going fine. Champagne flowed, hors d’oeuvres were nibbled, and schmoozing abound through out the large room where the party was being held. Offices lined two walls of the party room, while floor to ceiling widows encompassed the exterior wall, overlooking the courtyard and offering a magnificent view of the river in the distance. Suddenly, gunfire pierces the evening cheer as armed goons dressed in black stand aside from the open doors of the party room. Five men, one a large man with a thick red mustache and bear paws for hands, another scrawny man with large fly-like wings, bug eyes and arms. A bald, heavyset man in wrestling pants and a long grey/black hair man with glowing eyes flanked them. Finally, another man, obviously younger then the others stood to one side, with a drawn out nose and mouth that gave him a shark like resemblance to match the sharp white teeth his grin shows off. The red-haired man steps forward and spoke up. “Listen here ya prissy, walking checkbooks. This here’s a robbery, you’re gonna cough up whatcha got while we rummage through your offices for pretties, or I’ll know why.” “Now see here!” An older man in a expensive suit steps forward from the terrified guests. Mr. Russell Dumass. The co-owner of Dumass and Pride Imports and the man hosting the party. “You would do well to leave before you face trouble.” Mr. Dumass glanced over at large, suited man with an earpiece and nodded. As if on cue the man and several others around the room draw pistols on the intruders. The party crashers laugh as the armed guards aim there weapons at them in return. The black clad goons aimed small assault rifles and the tension in the room thickened until the red-haired man raised a bear paw of a hand and the goons relaxed some. What happened next was swift and vicious. Four of the men moved with purpose while the one with glowing eyes simply watched. The guards quickly fell under the assault of the villains. Some knock unconscious while others were less fortunate. With the shark faced man being the least restrained. The man he took a bite out of bled profusely and this seemed to only drive him into a frenzy. The other villains only watched as the shark man bite the man over and over until in a rage he picked the bloodied guard up like a rag doll and tossed him through one of the floor to ceiling widows to have him land in a blood mess in the building’s courtyard 25 floors below. The speed and ferocity of the attack cowed any further resistance in the crowd as they began to comply with the men and their goons. Satchel carrying goons began to move through the crowd as the villains regrouped. They spoke in hushed tones before splitting up. The bald villain in wrestling pants and boots took several goons and left the party room as the bear-handed man turned his attention to Mr. Dumass. “You.” He commanded. “Your office, now.” The frighten businessman followed the command and lead the villain into his office. The villain closing the door behind him for privacy. The remaining three villains watched the goons moving through the party guests like vultures waiting on their next meal.

Winter 2023 The elderly Asian man in the jean jacket and denim slacks might have attracted attention if he'd come into the liquor store any earlier, but it was late at night and the middle-aged clerk was obviously ready for his shift to end. He smiled at the clerk and placed the liquor and cigarettes on the counter. "Nice weather, we are having today." The man grunted, looked at his ID 'sorry sir, gotsta check everybody these days', then glanced at his security camera feed suspiciously for a moment before shrugging and accepting the older man's money. Still smiling, he walked outside with his bags under one arm, then walked out of view of the liquor store and into the darkness of the poorly lit streets of Greenbank. In between one step and the next, he blended away and vanished, replaced by a petite Japanese teenager whose ears and tail weren't visible at the moment, her clothes now a warm wool jacket and too-large slacks. She found her friends waiting for her at the edge of a nearby alley. "It was easy," she said, cooly handing her bags to Leon. They'd wound up bringing a curious bunch along for this evening out, Leon and Luke, the best of friends, Multi-Girl who she hadn't really gotten to know well despite the year they'd spent in each other's company, and of course - Carmen. "Nobody around here," she added confidently.

Summer 2022 Freedom Federal Building The Patriot Cycle, powered down and disguised as a regular motorcycle, parked in the ample parking garage of the Freedom City Federal Building. It was after hours and largely empty, though the scattered few cars Ashley and Carmen had passed on their way in showed that it wasn't completely abandoned. They weren't even alone on their level. "Good evening, Patriot, La Puma Negra," said the smartly-dressed young blonde woman who was there to greet them. She'd gone heavy on the perfume to Carmen's senses, enough that she smelled more like Elizabeth Arden than anything else. She was younger than Carmen might have expected for someone with such a high-level job. "Hi Daisy," said the Patriot, matching her secretary's tone. She was in full costume tonight, geared up and helmeted, and had suggested Carmen do the same 'or whatever you're comfortable with.' "All quiet?" "So far," said Daisy, a faint smile tugging at her bright red lips. "We've learned not to say 'everything's fine,'" said the Patriot, returning her secretary's look. "That's a curse. So, any questions before you get the tour?"

“Ladies and Gentleman! The Tiger's Den Welcomes you to this Evening Entertainment.” The voice boomed through the abandoned warehouse, shutting down the hushed conversation and the drunken laughers that, up to then, had filled the room and alerting the patrons that it was time to flood around the makeshift arena. They were a colorful bunch, most of them thugs, gangsters and other shady figures from Southside, cheerfully spending the night out and enjoying the fights to come. However, any observer could easily spot that common criminals were not the only kind of attendees, as among the crowd one could see individuals whose attire would have been more appropriate in a soiree among the mansions of Bayview rather than a violent night in a rusty warehouse. All of them wearing elaborate animal masks concealing their features and appeared no less hungry for the entertainment provided than the rest of the crowd. “Tonight. I will be your Mistress of Mayhem. Queen of the Arena. Voice of god.” It was a tall blond woman talking, clad in the sumptuous attire of a circus ringleader, a golden cat-mask concealing her eyes, but leaving her smile uncovered. A grin that any watcher that focused on it for more than a moment could be left with the uneasy feeling that it sported too many teeth. She was standing on a makeshift stage, overlooking a pit where the fighting was going to take place, the scene was illuminated only by roaring bonfires with the orange glow giving the ambience of the place an almost infernal vibe. The patrons crowded around the pit and began to shout, ready for blood, all under the watchful eyes of the Tiger Den’s goons, tall, sharply dressed, figures with powerfully built, their expressions concealed by gorilla masks and their hands covered in white gloves. “Fresh Blood Awaits! Proud. Young. Ready for Battle.” The woman continued, raising her hands as if to welcome the fighters into the arena. “Or so they think.” She smirked, malevolently as her eyes surveyed the crowd. “The Tiger will welcome the victors among us. Brave Brothers! Baptized in Battle!” She proclaimed “And as for the losers… well...” She visibly shrugged as a cruel laughter echoed in the room. By the side of the makeshift arena, a portion of the crowd has already began to swarm closer to another one of the organizers, a thin, blond man whose clothing matched the Mistress of Mayhem, with the exception only of the mask, that instead of a cat depicted a red fox. “I am sure that my brother would be eager to take all of your bets, but now, please… It is time! For! Our! Warriors!” --- Finding out about the activities of the Tiger’s Den hadn’t been an impossible task, even for a group of young, or in the case of some among them, time displaced heroes. Sure, the underground fighting ring was new in Freedom City and operated outside the boundaries of the law, but their 'show' had quickly earned enough renown, or infamy perhaps, that information about it was not hard to come by, given enough legwork at least. Unfortunately, from what they had discovered, the kind of bouts like the one planned for that night, were just the tip of the iceberg. There were other, more secretive events whose location and timing were much better guarded. It was on that kind of occasions where the Tyger, leader of the organization, showed up, dark deals were discussed and shady plots formed, frequented by the crème de la crème of the criminal underworld. Now of course, one would need an invitation to participate and those were hard to come by, unless, one could join the Tiger's Den League. And some spots spots were at stake that very night...

Nightscale Way too late Leon and Luke's dorm room or perhaps somewhere else. It was not unusual recently, for Luke to spend his nights shifting in his bed, to the charging of his roommate that had found himself having to contend with the restlessness of the young dragon boy. What little sleep he could get was plagued by nightmares, of the kind you wake up from covered in cold sweat and with only vague dreadful memories the morning after. That night, though, it felt different. It wasn't the aftermath of a bad dream to wake him up. It was... Well it was freaking cold. An icy breeze was dancing on his bare flesh, clad as he was only in the pair of black gym shorts that the seventeen years old used to sleep in. Still under the haze of dreams, the young man turned, his hands stumbling around in search for his blankets. They weren't there. Gone. Weird. Truth was, that, well, it were not only his blankets that were missing. In fact, as he began to properly wake up, Luke soon realized that he was no longer even in his bed. Instead, he was laying with his back on a mix of cold, rough stone and dirt. It felt like the floor of a cave. What the hell! The seventeen years old jumped on his feet. Adrenaline pumped in his veins and dispelled what was left of his drowsiness. It was dark. He rubbed his eyes and a shiver ran down his spine when he realized that they could not pierce the shadows as he was used to, since the day his dragon soul awakened. The world was eerily quiet, all he could hear, at first, was just the sound of his breath, his quickly accelerating heartbeat and dripping water in the distance. It was when his senses had began to adapt to the situation that he noticed that perhaps, there was actually another noise. Rhythmic, slowly paced, it was another set of breaths. Someone was asleep nearby. He stumbled in the dark, toward the source of the noise, until he found the sleeping form of his friend. "Leon." He whispered. "Wake up man!" They were not in Kansas anymore.

Fall 2022 Ethics 102 Mr. Hawke had given the big class their instructions. Break into groups, go down the list of 'real world' superheroic ethical questions, and discuss what they thought was the right solution. When everyone had finished, they would write down their solution on paper, then look at what the actual heroes (or villains) had done in their place. Matching their solution wasn't necessarily the key to a good grade, but it was good to know why your solution differed. Neko had managed to pair off with Leon and gave him a soft smile as they listened to Holly Cline, with the poise and slight melodrama of a born showbiz kid, read the prompt. "You have subdued a notorious supervillain when she tells you that if you don't free her, she will send her agents from prison to attack your loved ones. She names enough details that you can tell she isn't bluffing." Holly laughed a little. "Good luck versus my loved ones!" Everyone knew about the exceptionally pretty brunette's Hollywood parents, the villain-turned-heroes Fast-Forward and Hologram. "But, honestly, you find out how she got this information and make sure she can't use it. I'd just go rooting around in her head until I found it. But not everyone can do that, so we need more..." she added, trailing off. Neko looked hopefully at Leon, or maybe one of the other students, her hands folded neatly before her, not trusting herself to speak, only her twitching tail showing her nerves. - Over in his own group, Owain didn't need to think before he spoke after reading their prompt. "A grim foe indeed! I would recommend she be placed in the darkest dungeon one might find, and increase my watchfulness around those I love.

Claremont Academy ~9 am, 1st August 2022 Being one of the premium schools for superhero teens in America, if not the world, Claremont had one of the most impressive computer system money and tech heroes could provide. But it wasn’t perfect and today of all day the system had mysteriously crashed, rumours were currently running amok with no theory quite winning out yet. That didn’t help for the students, new and old that had turned up to settle into their new (or old) dorm rooms. With no records available right now two poor interns had been roped in to do an ad-hoc organization of room for now. Smartly they’d also roped in a few of the older students to help guide the new students to what rooms worked for now. Tomorrow things might change, but for now, a general make-do method was doing the rounds of those directing students around.

Spring 2022 AnimeCon Riverside Hilton In the relative privacy of the women's bathroom, Neko took a moment to inspect herself and her companions. She was dressed in one of her prize possessions, a brightly-colored red and white kimono that Talya had acquired for her, something that wasn't a Westerner's stage prop or fashion choice but something old enough that it had actually been a working garment. Her hair was behind her back in a neat plait, her ears curled above her head, her tail poking out the kimono's back thanks to some artful modifications to the fabric. (Nobody in the bathroom was looking at her; nobody could see her at all.) On her left shoulder was Merlin, her erstwhile 'manager' having come along for her live debut once it was clear, and on her right was a bright red mechanical insect whose color scheme was a near mirror of her kimono. "Come on, Red," she whispered, and sure enough the small insect-bot buzzed and hummed and began flying around her head. She smiled at the pretty bug and whispered, "You are so pretty! Everyone will be watching you if I am not careful!" With that, she checked Merlin's phone, nodded in satisfaction as it showed the success of the livestream, then checked with her manager one more time before she turned and exited the women's room. As she exited, she let herself be seen for the first time as she was (Merlin staying discreetly hidden), heading out into the crowd. "Hiiii!" she declared to her hovering bug-drone, smiling as she twirled a red umbrella over her head that was a costume prop. "Welcome to Catgirl Reacts to...AnimeCon! Make sure to like and subscribe!" She was by no means the only person in a costume, but so far she was the only person whose unusual appearance was natural. The room was crowded with people, more than could have fit into her whole village, all of them with unusual sounds and smells. She wasn't even the only person doing a livestream in the crowd, but she seemed to be attracting attention. Good, good! "Today I am going to see other catgirls, watch anime, and play video games! Come on!" With a smile for the hovering camera-bot and a girlish wink, she headed into the crowd, her sensitive ears catching the mostly-admiring comments about her appearance. People know Catgirl Reacts! This is actually...working!

Acheron River, Mesopotamos, Greece In an instance you’ve gone from the night sky of Freedom City to a bright blue sky of a beautiful Greek day, in what seems to be a relatively rural area of the country. After a few minutes of a relaxing river ride you come across a bend in the river where another dock has been set up for your arrival. At the dock you’re all helped to shore by Nereid’s and again assigned an assistant (the same one as before if you wish). A small crowd is also gathered here, most interested Greek locals, with a smattering of local and European media. They’re held back by what appears to be warriors clad in traditional Ancient Greek Armour watched over by an angry looking woman in very similar garb (Ioke a spirt of onslaught, not someone to mess with!). This is much smaller crowd and no one here to have arranged any interaction with them, though even Ioke won’t stop you if you wish to talk them (though Ioke gives you some pretty withering looks). Your assistant points out the wooded hill that sits above the town, up there sit’s the site of Necromanteion of Acheron, which compared to the glitz and glamour of you leaving Freedom City (or wherever else) is rather underwhelming. Your assistant explains that the road ahead leads up the hill towards the Gala, it’s about a ten minute walk, but if required transport can we put on to get up the hill (or you can fly up directly). It’s quite a pleasant walk with forest on one side, filled today with various creatures and spirits of nature (hopefully to keep you safe), and white washed red roof buildings. The locals seems to be curious about everything going on but seem content to watch at a safe distance. Whatever route you take you all end up at the same point, a path that ends up with a symbolic looking doorway through which you can’t see beyond. Set up just before this is a little lectern where the four eyed Argus Panoptes, dressed much like a maître d', who was checking tickets against a massive list of potential guests (a list that Argus is very much keeping away from guests). It’s mostly academic as it seems no one has tried to sneak into the event, or that they don’t seem to be bothered about any interlopers. If any trouble was to start Argus had someone to help out, the massive three headed dog Cerberus. Though the Ancient Greek Good Boy rather than a ravenous beasts was like a massive puppy enjoying the attention of some of the guests. Though after several thousand years he was well behaved. Once your ticket is cleared you’re allowed to step through the portal into the gala itself… This is the second of an open social threat a chance for player characters to meet and greet each other and some NPC's. Only one of you characters can be active in a thread at a time, but you can move them through the threads as to have one in each at a time. If you want to spend more time focused on something you are welcome to spin off into another thread, or a vignette or even ten questions! You are free to create and use minor NPC as needed, the more important character like the Ioke will need a Ref's permission, you will obviously be interacting with Argus but he’s all business. Cerberus will obviously be available for skritches of all kinds!

June 8, 2022. Claremont Academy Dorms. First Floor. After school. Effigy and Invisigirl BOOM BOOM BOOM. “Paperboy, get your trunks on! Pool time now!” Wilona was already bikini-ified, though it was hidden underneath loose yoga pants and a thin hoodie. All of which, obviously, were yellow/orange/red with flame designs. Because subtlety. Naomi was in a one piece with the same loose yoga pants plus thin hoodie combo over top of it. Only she was in bland grey. So what was goin’ on? It was a hotass day. Wilona was bored. And she wanted to go swimming. Swimming alone sucked ass. So she’d corralled Carmen, who was hanging out in the lobby, and started pounding on her teammate’s door. Did Wilona know a place to go swimming? You bet your ass. Did she know Luke was also in the room? Hell, no. Would she have cared if she did? Hell, no. The more the merrier.

Fall 2022 Neko brought a swirl of leaves with her when she entered the bookstore, red and gold that matched the apparent color of her hair. Dressed in a second-hand sweater that hung loose and long on her small frame over baggy jeans, her shoes scraped lightly against the floormat as she walked inside and wrinkled her nose. The place certainly smelled like it might have what she wanted; and of old books, too. Running her hands through her hair, she walked inside, wrapped in an ever-present swirl of magic that made her look like any other Asian teen out on the town. She looked around briefly, smiled at the clerk behind the desk, then immediately disappeared into the stacks. She kept her eyes out, looking for sections helpfully labeled "Oriental" or "Asian" or "Japanese", knowing they might be her best bet. There were sections about the Second World War, of course, but she didn't want to look at those unless she had to.

Sharaf found the picture near the end of the school year, a steady black and white photograph in a book about the Hinomaru. The Hinomaru had been Imperial Japan's version of the Ubersoldaten of World War II; cruel agents of empire who had mostly come to a sticky end at the hands of American, British, and Chinese super-agents during and after the Second World War. This particular book had been put together by the US National Archives just after the war, a murderer's row of assassins, terrorists, and killers of various stripes. (Socotra of course hadn't been involved in World War II; the first Typhoon had been just a boy living under British rule off the Arabian coast in those days.) He found the girl near the end of the book. Akuma no Neko, aka "Devil Cat" had fought several Allied incursions on the mainland of Japan at the side of Crimson Katana, and had vanished in engagement against British heroes during the campaign in Burma just as the war was entering its final stages. There was an image like an identification picture; a pale-eyed girl with shockingly white hair, standing modestly in a schoolgirl uniform like a sailor suit, one of her standing at a podium, standing on a stack of books so she could address a small unit of IJA troops, and an artist's rendition of the girl surrounded by illusory devils. She was by all accounts a black magician, an infernal sorceress of the Green Dragon Society, and - well he had seen that girl before, walking around the halls at Claremont, sitting silently in most of her classes, her accent thick and English often uncertain. There really could not be that many young Japanese women with white, fuzzy hair and big visible cat-ears atop her head, or a tail visible in the rear shot at the podium. This was Neko Musume.

July 3, 2021 In between calling her mother, her sisters, and even Judith Claudia Cahill, who had certainly had enough things kept from her by adults in her life, Ashley Tran was left with the unavoidable reality that she had once again made a promise and she was going to have to live by it. But she wasn't the same woman she'd been when she agreed to be Judy's undercover escort at Claremont - and taking on the role of the Patriot the goddamned Patriot! was a little bigger than acting as an undercover high school student. So she'd reached out to Jill O'Cure, who'd reached out to somebody she knew, which turned out to be the elder statesman of Freedom City's queer hero community. Still doesn't sound right in my mouth, she thought as she studied her reflection in the Uber driver's window. But it's easier than spelling out 'hey I like men and also women.' She had a cut over her left eye and a fading bruise on that cheek, all stuff that the helmet and makeup would cover the next day, and the Uber driver hadn't said anything about it. She wasn't sure if that meant he deserved a bigger or smaller tip, but she left him one anyway as she stepped out onto the Lincoln street. There's only one person to talk to, she remembered Jill saying as she walked up to the front door of Keith LaMarr's apartment building. And okay, he saw you in character, but that was a couple of years ago and you had a whole different look. Her black skirt and white blouse could have been on any office worker, though they perhaps wouldn't have been wearing the blue and purple lapel pin and pronouns badge that she'd picked up at Pride. Even if he does recognize you, what's he going to say about it? Hardly any adult hero actually gives a crap about what goes down at Claremont as long as the kids are all right.

Necromanteion of Acheron, Mesopotamos, Greece Through the doorway the sun again streamed down and the sky was a deep blue, with a squint (or with magic) you could make a fain barrier that was here to provide some privacy from any and all forms of aerial spying. Those that had check the reconned could see that everything was as before, and it seemed you were free to wonder the site away from the gala if they wished. The space for the Gala was fenced off with large ionic columns covering a large clear area, looking through the columns you could see an area that was somehow larger than that the columns should cover. Those with the knowledge would know it was a pocket dimension, and out that would allow those covered by the Pact to visit this plane of existence for the party. Despite some rumours to the contrary the pocket dimension was tied to this place and not Hades underworld as some had suspected. Just inside the pillars there were a series of white marble statues, done in classic style by a well known Freedom City artist. They showed some of the most famous of Freedom Cities (and other placed) heroes, head of them all looking down on everyone that entered was of course Centurion. The rest of the place was a fairly traditional entertainment space, with touches of Ancient Greece thrown in, there was two bar on regular and one juice for those who didn’t (or couldn’t drink) and a buffet that was a mix of traditional fair and classic Greek dishes. Serving staff, mostly human it seems, were wondering around offering drinks and snacks. They seemed to have been hired from the nearby town in a once in a lifetime gig! Think were still fairly early and only a few you recognized were milling around in conversation. Most were superheroes or there friends and family, with a smattering of other well known people from a variety of fields. Most of the major guests, including the hosts, weren’t here yet, as was the fashion they would of cause be fashionably late to there own Gala! This is the third of an open social threat a chance for player characters to meet and greet each other and some NPC's. Only one of you characters can be active in a thread at a time, but you can move them through the threads as to have one in each at a time. If you want to spend more time focused on something you are welcome to spin off into another thread, or a vignette or even ten questions! You are free to create and use minor NPC as needed, the more important character will need a Ref's permission. Player characters with suitable job are welcome to work in there civilian roles before going off (or not) to the gala itself.

A few blocks from the Freedom School for the Arts, Riverside, Freedom City 2022 May 1st (Sunday), ~9:45am. Clear skies, calm, about 60o F. Davyd Palahniuk hummed random tunes as he made his way down the Riverside street. He was in a good mood, which readily showed on his face -- and it was his own face which he was wearing. He'd let his hair grow out a bit over the winter months, and it now reached just to his shoulders, rising and falling as he bopped along. His outfit, as usual, was fairly simple, a yellow long-sleeved cotton shirt, with plains cuffs and collar, blue jeans, and well-worn brown sneakers. He'd had many reasons to feel in such a good mood. The successes he'd had in his new job with DNN, and the challenges he'd recently overcome, was certainly a factor. And the day's pleasant weather didn't hurt. But one thing was foremost in his mind at the moment, the reason he was walking down this particular street: a call from one of his former classmate, Louise ("Lulu" to her friends) Beaumont. She'd called him a few days ago, asking to meet, to catch up over a meal. There was a new Ukrainian restaurant which had recently opened in the area, and he'd wanted to check it out -- maybe to treat his family for a Mother's day brunch next Sunday -- and this seemed like a perfect way to combine his interests. He'd not seen much of her since their Euro-Trip, and that was almost a year ago! I wonder if she'll have changed much? He didn't see her when he got to the entrance, and waited a few moments...

Summer 2022 Southside Paseo Boricua It was summertime, which meant the Patriot was back in Freedom City from her time in space, which meant she was doing her civic duty. Her helmet and jacket on, she rode down the streets of Freedom's Puerto Rican neighborhood, keeping an eye out for the Claremont student she was supposed to meet. Guess she didn't have anywhere to go. Too many damn super-orphans, she thought, thinking of her own childhood commuting back to New Orleans every summer from Claremont boarding school. She caught the usual flash of cameraphones when people recognized America's most famous patriotic hero but there were advantages to Freedom, the locals were hard to impress - one woman riding a motorcycle, even if she was a superhero, wasn't enough to get the big crowds out on the street.

Little Kyoto, The West End, Freedom City 14th April 2022, Butsumetsu This little slice of Japan in Freedom city, if not the oldest it was close, was particularly quiet today as among the more superstitious it was the unluckiest of days. For on this day the Buddha had died and hence nothing important should be embarked upon. The day had definitely been unlucky for poor Mr Chishio who had been found dead in the courtyard of his home, under the shadow of an ancient Cherry Tree. With nothing suspicious about the death, the man was quite old after all (and no one ever remembered seeing him as a young man), he’d been carted away to the morgue. Someone knew something was amiss however...