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  1. December 25, 2014 A ripple of tension had traced through the world's hero community, even those with few direct connections or who actively avoided such interactions with their peers. Something big was coming, perhaps already there, and the Freedom League was calling in everyone, every able body, to meet it. Details were scares and answers were scarcer but the apprehension of a soldier the night before shipping out hung over them all the same. That silent tension was broken as Asli Sadik's phone vibrated with a message notification, marked urgent with an attached video file. The compression had sacrificed some of the image quality but the hood, cloak and mask of Seven, a relatively recent addition to the League reputed to be a witch of considerable power, was immediately recognizable. The background was an indistinct blur but the urgency in her voice came through clearly enough. "Greetings, hero. My apologies for the intrusion but the need is great..." * * * * * "...great-whatever owed my great-whatever a favour and I'm calling in the chip," the porcine young man who'd identified himself as a descendant of Zhu Bajie told Daniel Lee as the grainy video played on the engineer's laptop screen. He snorted absently in a manner that wrinkled the entirety of his flat nose and hitched up his belt with both hands. "I ain't really got time to explain everything but I figure if I tell you there's adventure and demons to punch involved, won't take much convincing anyway..." * * * * * "...obviously the west bank of the Nile is a little out of the way for you," admitted Elwyn Eldrich, hockey jersey wearing nephew of the Master Mage, waving about a rune covered staff for emphasis, "but we're stretched a little thin here, frankly. Believe me, if I could leave the dread dimensions myself right now-- well, you know how they get around the holidays, I'm sure." As the video played the shadows in the corner of Jeremiah Cornwell's dorm room deepened unnaturally. "Now, can't keep the shadow portal I'm making for you open long..." * * * * * "...realize this is-- It's not how I wanted to do this," the stern young woman with Asgardian armor and a bow strapped to her back frowned, crossing and uncrossing her arms uncomfortably as John Fraser watched on his aging laptop's monitor. "But my mother always said that in a real emergency, you were the one I should contract. I'm sure you have a lot of questions - I would, too - but right now the world needs Arrowhawk." The video file ended and the gently spinning whirlpool of pitch black and midnight purple that had appeared a few meters away beckoned.
  2. February 25th, 2015 Outside Silberman’s Books, Freedom City Dawn The city was never really quiet at any point in the day. Tona Baudin had crawled through the city’s guts and swung over its rooftops, and it never became entirely quiet. In the morning, though, before the streets were clogged by cars and the sidewalks were clogged by pedestrians, there was a sort of peace and calmness and attention that the city possessed. The fact that it was a dozen degrees below freezing also helped keep the streets clear. The cold didn’t stop Tona from taking her morning jog. She was wrapped up in a fleece jacket, a torque, a scarf that wrapped around her face twice, thick socks with warming pads, and mittens with warming pads. She was also carrying her bow and quiver tightly lashed to her back, though to most people it probably just looked like a Camelback. The archer had finished her first circuit and was returning to her apartment above Silberman’s, to wake up Mali and set out on the second circuit. As she closed on the building she noticed someone standing outside the store, which should not happen. The store didn’t open until just before noon, so there was no reason anyone should be here this early. Tona’s fingers twitched in her mittens and she adopted a looser, more rolling gait as she approached the tall, pale figure.
  3. December 25, 2014 South Pole Basin Lunar Farside It is not true that Farsiders never leave their city, merely that such events are rare and usually for a purpose. The construction of the South Pole station by Farsiders had been one such purposeful occasion, one launched over a Terran century ago by a Farsider monarch concerned about a recent Terran visit to the Moon. (Some Terran visitors to Farside City have pointed out that the Apollo missions took place over six decades later, but the Farsiders have the records of earlier 'interlopers' to show skeptical visitors of today.) With its neutrino detectors and concealed telescopes, the South Pole station is well-placed to directly monitor doings on Earth. Or for that matter, as Lady Lunar proved in the early 1980s, to strike at it. A collection of intellects vast and furious on Earth had realized the station's potential not long after the Communion crisis began - concealed as the station was, it was the perfect place to strike at an enemy in Earth orbit by surprise. What had been a location for observation could become a location for misdirection; a notion that appealed to the ruling government of Farside City, which liked the idea of saving the world they orbit without their true role ever being known. (Farsiders do love their secrets!) And so, for much of the last two months, the greatest minds of Earth have come to its only natural satellite with a singular purpose. To build a machine to protect the planet from the Communion! Steve Murdock had offered what advice he could during its construction, but his experience with dimensional technology was all practical. It had come down to Dragonfly's specific genius and Miss Americana's vast storehouse of general knowledge to put the great work into practice. Caradoc, and the other non-scientists in the party of heroes guarding the weapon (as Steve was not allowed to call it around his employer) had rapidly found another role in the small lunar colony. Lunar soil ashy beneath his feet, Caradoc raised his gleaming blade to the sky, the shining tip above the heads even of the tallest Farsiders in their environmental suits. A new group of Farsider militiamen had been deployed that week - and their usual trainers were busy with an Earth-Prime holiday, an important one, but one that he could miss while Gina Evans was safely ensconced in the tiny pre-fab quarters that she had occupied for the last month. There would be time enough for celebration when the work was done. He spoke over the radio. "Your enemy will target your environmental suits first! They are not pirates, or conquerors, or enslavers. Your dead flesh will feed their ever-growing armies." He lowered his blade as the group shifted uneasily, and for a moment there was dead silence on the lunar plain besides the domed Farsider military base even on the radio frequencies they used to speak with each other outside the dome.
  4. Late March 2015 Gina had been able to tell something was wrong with Steve for the last few days. Always quiet, he'd fallen nearly into monosyllables unless directly pressed, and he'd started spending his nights either reading or sitting up, staring out the window at the world outside. After living together for well over a year, this was a familiar pattern - the only mystery was whether he would eventually tell her what was the matter or if his feelings would sink back down below the mantle of his self-restraint. Finally, over a dinner of oven-cooked shrimp fajita, he put down his fork and broke the silence that had been pressing on him. "There is an Annihilist living in the DuTemps Building." He said the words with the calm frankness of a man broaching a difficult subject, as well it was.
  5. Stesha's House, Sanctuary December 26, 2014 12:30pm Local Time Between the late hour of the Communion's attack on the Lighthouse, the time the fight had taken, the cleanup, the debriefings, and a quick power nap, it was well into the day after Christmas before Gabriel had a chance to head to his second home. He'd debated coming immediately after the debrief, but he needed a shower, and when he got to his apartment he ended up sleeping for a fair bit of time. The up side was that not only did he come out of it more rested...Stesha would hopefully have had time to calm down. He'd missed all the "drama"; he'd been in the medbay getting patched up and looked over for his collection of minor wounds. There had been a metahuman healer present, so he shouldn't get any scars. From this fight, anyways. No way to ditch the other scars at this point, not without actual surgery, and he didn't care enough about that. But as soon as he'd walked into the debriefing and seen Dark Star in his energy form, a complete absence of Fleur de Joie, and the incredibly awkward atmosphere in the room as the meeting started, the young Irish man knew something bad had gone down. It turns out, no one else knew many details, either. So that is how he found himself, dressed in civilian garb, with a thermos in one hand and a bottle of Bailey's in the other, knocking on Stesha's front door and deciding if it would be blasphemy to curse being the most gifted diplomat on the planet when your ability had been granted by an Archangel. Even if it would be it was starting to look mighty tempting.
  6. April 1, 2015 Dutemps Castle "They are not your slaves, Tarva." Furion's rage tempered by the coolness of Earth-Prime, Bluebird fixed a level gaze on Tarva, arms crossed over her chest, a face watching Tarva from the latter's personal computer. "They have a world that is theirs, a city that is theirs, and mighty laws and unions to guard them. If you speak to the cleaning staff like that, they will simply quit, and _you_ will have to explain to Blue Fox why you have driven away her handfast vassals." Her big blue eyes narrowed. "Do you think she will like what you said? Do you think she will laugh?" "No. No, she will not." Tarva looked away guiltily, shadows flushing in her cheeks. "I thought it a jest, to play to my-" "Would it have been a joke before, daughter of Nihilor?" asked Bluebird, her usual cheerful voice serious. "...yes," said Tarva, surrounding herself with a protective blanket of shadow. "But a true jest all the same. Please, please message them and tell them my apologies. I try so hard to be of this place, and I fail sometimes, but...I want to. I want to be a daughter of Earth-Prime." Bluebird let out a breath - an affectation for a projected consciousness. "You are a child in the soul, Tarva." It was, despite everything else, a statement of affection. "I will extend apologies. But then it must be _you_ who apologizes, shadow-witch, and takes them back to Blue Fox's bosom." "You are right. I will go write one." Tarva rose to her feet, a look of determination on her face. "I have procured several books on the subject, and with my vast brain I will surely find some..." The swinging doors closed behind her, cutting off her monologue. Bluebird herself made an appearance a few minutes later, in an immaterial holographic form. She looked around the room for a few moments before her eyes settled on one corner. "Ghost Girl." She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, was I not supposed to spy you?"
  7. The Terminus High above the Silver Tree, deep in the cold red space of the Terminus itself, darkness billowed from the nothingness. It formed first into a black crescent that glowed with an impossible black radiance, then from the crescent there swelled a long spear with a pentagram at the tip. From the crescent resolved the figure of a pale-skinned woman, the spear in one hand and the crescent of shadow billowing behind her like a cape - her eyes deep voids of blackness as she looked down at the world of the Furions beneath her. Clutching her weapon, which was Starkiller, the slayer of suns in her hand, she waited in the void until the Furions came for her - and when they surrounded her, weapons glowing, she threw aside Starkiller and declared in a booming voice that resounded even in the true vacuum of the Terminus. "I am Tarva the Terrible! I bring grave tidings from the streets of Nihilor. But I will speak only to the Fleet-Footed!" --- March 1, 2014 As happens more often than you'd think, a swirling dimensional portal opened above the Martel Castle suspended itself a full hundred stories above Freedom City. Out stepped a man, if that was a man, all in black - the darkness of his garb marred by silvery lines that criss-crossed his muscular body in an abstract pattern and by his facemask - a white goat's face like that of Baphomet himself! Wielding a staff that glowed with searing red flame at the tip, he folded his arms expectantly and awaited in cold silence the arrival of his host and her escorts - for this was Scavros the Scarred, darkest and most terrifying of the Furions!
  8. GM Post Freedom City Bank, Wading Way, February 27th 2015 A man in his forties, his short hair starting to turn gray, stood grinning in front of the camera; he was dressed in an odd looking uniform that would suit a late 19th century military officer better than a modern day man, modified however with what looked like a steam boiler carried as a backpack, connected by tubes and pipes to the strange rifle the man was currently waving around. Behind him, the bank's surveillance cameras showed a number of robots in a similar Jules Verne fashion, some human-sized and carrying pikes or rifles, others larger, busy rounding up the terrified people that were until moments before going on with their day to day business. "For those who don't know me, my name is Steampunk, and I'm here to make a statement. Emily Stenford, better known as Mechanized, you fancy yourself a heroine and a savior of Freedom City, thanks to the high-tech suit you're wearing. A suit that by all means should have been developed by me! But I guess it was easy for Daddy's girl to get me fired and keep all your company's high tech gear for yourself. No matter! Look at what I have accomplished, with steam technology and magic alone! Come face me, if you dare, and I will show you once and for all, on live TV, who's the best engineer! Or perhaps, you're too coward to show up, and you'll leave all these innocent hostages in my hands?"
  9. Outer Edge of the Lor-Van System 17 Hours After Destruction of Lor-Van The previous solar cycle's worth of hours had been among the worst in the lives of either Seikahi’ino or Ana Plonsky. On shore leave from the Xeno, the human woman had chosen to spend it on the shining crown jewel of the Lor Republic with the more worldly Kahi'iru agreeing to tag along as a favour to their mutual acquaintance to make sure she didn't get herself into any trouble. There was no way either of them could have been prepared for the Communion's sudden, merciless attack on Lor-Van. There was no way anyone could have been prepared. They'd been among the lucky ones, making it to a spaceport and squeezing their way onto a mid-sized cruiser just as the bay doors closed and it made for orbit. They'd sat on makeshift benches formed from empty cargo containers while a panicked young man had asked over and over if anyone had seen his sister among the crowd and a frail grandmother had been unable to stop an infants plaintive wailing for even a moment. They'd been in the windowless hold when word had filtered down that the Star Knights had arrived in force, a moment of sudden hope and relief before learning that the armor clad champions had sacrificed themselves to give them and the other fleeing vessels time to break orbit. They'd been there when the air had begun to taste just slightly stale and those familiar with starships had begun muttering that the engines didn't sound quite right. There when a crewman had let slip that they'd fallen behind the rest of the extant fleet and wouldn't be able to jump to FTL until repairs had been effected. There when the panicked young man from before had to be restrained before he could hurt himself or anyone else. There when someone asked aloud what was stopping those terrible silver sliver ships from coming to finish them off. On the ship's bridge, Samran-86 ran a hand through her tightly shorn red hair and reminded herself to keep her breathing calm and steady. The Lor officer had assumed command of the vessel from it grateful owner, a cargo hauler with no experience with emergency situations. The clone mentat known to her fellows as Eject was beginning to think he'd had the right idea. "Any friendly vessels, this is the freighter Either Ore. We are venting plasma and require immediate assistance. Repeat: we require immediate assistance. Is anyone out there listening?"
  10. Galandis Refinery Korivan The Khanate This seemed to be what he lived for, nowadays. He'd long since turned in his resignation at work. The guys at the aeronautics firm might have been willing to excuse his "long lunches" every now and again, but this was a different matter entirely. He had explained he was going to take a "sabbatical"; they acted like they understood, but he had a feeling that the position might be filled by the time he got back to Earth for any long stretch of time. If he got back to Earth. Sometimes, he wondered if he'd cracked. Here he was, alone, in the last place in the galaxy anyone wanted to be. He hadn't starting thinking about snails crawling along the edge of straight razors yet, so that was a point in favor of sanity. But there was still that urge, that drive. The need to do everything to the enemy that had been done to him and his people. He knew what lay down that road. But damn if it wasn't a tempting one to walk. Cavalier sighed. The personal reflection could wait. He had work to do. And so, he adjusted his visor to meet the swirling storm of dark silt, and trudged off towards his objective.
  11. Aboard the Nomad The edge of the Lor Republic 19 Hours After Destruction of Lor-Van Aya K'zan, also known as Corona, had received a transmission about the attack on Lor-Van far too late for her to be able to try to get there aboard the Nomad. After learning of the destruction of the capital of the Republic at the hands of some new enemy called the Communion, she had contacted two of the few allies she had made since her arrival on Earth, a human Emily Stenford, also known as Mechanized; and another off-worlder, Memorial, formally of Belran. As it turned out, Memorial knew a good deal about the Communion, making it an even easier decision for Corona to bring her along. The three had been heading to try to rendezvous with the Lor fleet on the Nomad when they had received a transmission from Lor Fleet Command. With the chaos the Communion attacks had brought, and the Star Knights shifting their forces to help address the threat, large sections of space had been left unpatrolled or defended. Reports had come in from systems just along the spinward boarder of the Republic about increased pirate activity, capitalizing on the chaos and absence of Star Knights. Command had ordered Corona to alter course to investigate the activity and deal with it, noting that it was the sector assigned to one of the Star Knights that had died trying to defend Lor-Van. Corona had also been directed to make a stop to pick up an additional passenger from a system along the way, a Tempestian known as Galvanic, who had been known to provide help to those in need since leaving Tempest. Now with Galvanic aboard, the Nomad was well underway towards the sector of space that had seen the worst increase in pirate activity.
  12. Rio Branco Avenue Rio de Janeiro, Brazil December 25th, 2014 5:25 PM local time Nick Cimitiere's jacket was tempered for heat and cold, meaning he didn't need to forgo protection - or mystique - based on the temperature. But the humidity of the Rio summer was still getting to him. The whole city was strung out for Christmas, but the tilt of the earth meant it felt more like the height of July back home. Speaking of back home... he'd told his family he'd be out of town for a few days, but would be back for Christmas. He always hated to lie to his family about these matters. Four years home from college, eight years as a superhero, and he still hadn't come clean about meddling in the affairs of life and death. But some matters of death were more important than matters of life. There had been a number of disappearances in Rio over the past few weeks. People from all walks of life had left messages for their family and friends, saying they were going to "a better place," and then had vanished entirely. Fortunatus, a local seer and fate manipulator who Nick had partnered with on a particularly tough job years ago, had given him a call about the matter. "The path is clouded to me," he had said. "I see that they are gone, but I cannot see where they have gone and who led them there. I fear this may be more your department than mine." "Anything else you can tell me?" "Just one thing. There are a number of 'great bumps' on the horizon." "Great bumps" was Fortunatus's term for a confluence of random factors that could spell either windfall or disaster. Nick had no idea where it came from. "I have one that I must handle myself, as it involves plucking the threads of chance like a harp. But I can see that these disappearances will not stop soon, and may breed a catastrophe of their own if unimpeded." And so, after spreading the word amongst the community and walking the back roads of reality, Nick had found himself walking a beat in paradise. Those who had gone seemed to be truly gone - after visiting their residences and the local cemeteries, he could find no trace of the vanished having left ghosts. Then again, he wasn't the only one on the beat. "How's it coming on your end?" he asked over the comms relics he'd handed out.
  13. December 5, 2014 2:00 pm Village of Mayberry, Sanctuary There was a light dusting of snow on the ground of Sanctuary as the visitors popped out of the hickory tree-shaped dimensional portal their host had conjured up for them, but the weather this afternoon was clear and cold. The place where they'd arrived looked like the edge of a large garden, with rows of berry bushes still fruiting nearby, and nut trees clearly ready for harvest all around them. Stesha was waiting for them as they stepped out, her cheeks pink despite the puffy brown fleece jacket with matching knit hat and mittens she was wearing. It looked a little like a cold weather version of her costume, if one squinted just right. "Hi guys!" she greeted them cheerfully. "It's so good to see you, feels like it's been forever! Ammy, come say hello!" There was a rustling behind a nearby tree, whose branches parted to allow Amaryllis to come rushing through them without so much as slowing down. She was bundled up like her mother, except all in pinks and purples, and her hat was askew on her green curls. "Hi!" she chirped, finally slowing down just before she plowed into Erik. "Merry Christmas!"
  14. Outer Reaches of Contested Space 38 Hours After Destruction of Lor-Van It was a truism that any seasoned spacer could have sworn upon: the heart of galactic civilization could be on fire, the proverbial wolf could be at the door and everything anyone knew could be turned upside down but there would still be someone willing to pay hard coin to make sure somebody else got what was coming to them. Since energy cells and starship parts hadn't suddenly become free, the crew of the Voidrunner had made their way out to the raggedy edge of known space, far enough out that nobody bothered to argue if it was technically Republic or Khanate territory, looking for a scumbag with a price on his head. Only this time the heart of galactic civilization really was on fire and the rush of reentry outside the airlock was starting to sound an awful lot like that proverbial wolf growling. Orbital traffic was ten times over denser than it should have been, packed with the ships of refugees who'd either thought they could avoid what was coming by running far enough away or who just didn't have anywhere more attractive to go than the dustball known as Ke'Pinree. Many of the vessels looked barely space-worthy; it was doubtful their passengers would be able to make it to the next closest habitable world if they were turned away. Once properly assured that they were there on business, a harried sounding woman with a thick provincial accent had cleared the bounty hunters for landing, directing them to was passed for a spaceport on her world.
  15. Claremont Academy, Front Entrance to the Quad. November 16, 2014, 4pm Sakurako rolled out her orange colored plastic case out on to the sidewalk outside the claremont academy. Adjusting the blazer of her favorite yachting outfit, she looked over the front of the building. "Ah... nice archetecture... looks better in person. Far more... well sophisticated." She nodded to the driver of the minivan she was in, after grabbing a red colored vest from the back seat and what looked like a reddish orange waterproof bag. She sat on her case as the van drove off as she made a quick call on her cell phone she pulled from the vest. "Hey, Mom.... yep made it to the Academy okay." "Yeah I'm gonna miss things. But... I might enjoy this place. Looks like a legit castle." "No.... I've not harassed any of the boys yet." "Okay, I should go I gotta lug my case inside here... the light dusting of snow isn't making things easier." "Bye bye!" She smiled, turning off her smartphone and sliding it into the pocket of the vest, before laying it on the case. She pulled up a handle on one side and started to move the case. It was obvious the scrawny, yet determined pink haired girl wasn't into giving up very easily. Getting the case inside the main foyer, she sits on it again to catch her breath. "Okay... mental note... hit the gym." She looked around at the old wood hall, taking in the sights of her new home for now...
  16. Mirror ambled his way around Wading Way, it was just after the sun had set, and it was quieter now then it had been all day. Twirling his cane, he hummed quietly to himself as he watched the invisible spirit, Mary, peer down various alleys, and into buildings, when she could, as she tried to get a good look at a part of the city she had been to very rarely. "Oh come on, slow down. I want to get a good look at this stuff, you never bring me down here, and your world has so much new stuff in it." She said as they passed by another Bank where some of the Employees were still cleaning up. "Why don't you ever listen to me? You never do anything for me, please, just, this once?" No longer caring about appearances, if someone wandered up on him, his outfit alone said something was off. "Because, Mary, when I come down here I usually don't have time to be slow. However, tonight there hasn't been anything, so I guess I'll slowdown so you can take a closer look around. I'd say behave, but no one else can interact with you." Humming to himself once more, Mirror slowed down, and sighed, looking up at the sky. Mary was a bit of a pain, constantly bugging him, but he couldn't complain much, he could do things most people couldn't even dream of thanks to her. Though, it would be nice to have a distraction around, talking to a voice in your head, even with the way he's dressed up, tends to worry most people.
  17. November 1, 2014 Frances Psion swore up and down she had nothing to do with the mysterious fire in Blackstone's psychiatric wing a couple of weeks ago - but given her powers and her penchant for scrapping with prison security personnel, the Blackstone authorities haven't been inclined to take any chances. She's gotten into trouble with inmates too, trouble enough that there have been some very nasty threats against her life (and other things) made inside the prison compound. The Psions have been scrapping with villains for years and Ember had always been the Professor's fist; a sadistic brute whose fiery punishments were great at striking fear across the villain community. In jail, in power restraints, she's just a short woman with a strange accent, reddish-blonde hair and skin tanned a faint, perpetual orange. She's being transported to lockup in upstate New York, where she'll be held for the next few weeks until the repairs to Blackstone are finished and her safety can be guaranteed. After that, she'll start what may be the first of many trials sometime in the beginning of 2015. Surrounded by two heavily armored female prison guards, she's in power-nullification shackles and a Blackstone orange uniform that she wears like a badge of honor. She's not talkative today; instead staring out the open window she can make out past the guard on her left, her eyes hooded as she looks out at the clouds overhead. Among the passengers on this particular flight is someone very special - the second Foreshadow, a special consultant who has experience dealing with Ember Psion and her ways - as well as an ability to foresee the future. For this prisoner, with the escape attempts that have already happened, that's a very good thing. - Stronghold is in the air, soaring high above the clouds! It's cool and crisp this high, with only her ring's power saving her from an icy coating and hypoxia, but that's okay - it's a beautiful day and the clouds are the sort of light, fluffy things that in cartoons would be like big balls of cotton candy. Nearby she can see what looks like a Lear Jet zipping through the sky, but she's an experienced enough flyer by now to know how to handle herself around civilian traffic. It really is a beautiful day. - Back in Freedom City, it's Richard and Paige's day off - as well it might be, given that it's Saturday! Holly has begged her way into another viewing of Maleficent, and Will has blessedly volunteered to save his parents from yet another showing of a movie they've seen no less than four times now between the two of them. Christie had pulled some strings and gotten a prison-band radio for them to monitor Frances' flight, and occasionally in between house-cleaning they listened to the check-ins and all-clears from the pilots - who were now safely in the air.
  18. For a building that had only been around a decade, the pyramidal frustum of ArcheTech Headquarters occupied its spacious campus in Hanover with a stately grace that suggested much longer years. It certainly hadn't taken long for the distinctive shape of the building to make it a landmark, or for its lobby full of scientific displays and free-of-charge rotating presentations to make it a popular field trip destination. The campus hosted a 5k fun run in the springtime, an all-ages Halloween extravaganza, summer science camps, and Christmas decorations that could easily be seen across the river. Whether or not people used ArcheTech products (and many of them certainly did), the company was a fixture in the life of the city. Even natives of Freedom City who'd spent most of the decade away from home knew something about the super-tech company. Going on a field trip or attending a fun run, however, was not exactly the same as actually coming into the company for a job interview. By the time Alex was invited for an in-person interview at ArcheTech, she'd already survived the resume submission and the phone interview stage, but now this was the real thing. An in-person interview with the company's superhero CEO, Miss Americana. Not only did Miss Americana run ArcheTech, she was a super-scientist and engineer in her own right, with dozens of articles published about her work in biomechanics, robotics, and a handful of other fields. She also apparently took it upon herself to hand-pick any metahuman scientists coming to work for the company. The lobby itself was not too intimidating, since it was mostly filled with schoolchildren and their harried chaperones, racing from display to display while cheerful tour guides led them around. Employees with badges and some with uniforms threaded their way through the chaos with the ease of long practice. Here and there, security guards in blue kept an eye on things and helped wrangle the wayward children. At the farthest point of the lobby from the displays was a bank of elevators and a large, sleek white desk. When Alex approached the front desk, she could see a trio of extremely efficient-looking employees wearing Bluetooth headsets and typing with holographic touchpads onto transparent projected screens. "May I help you?" asked the nearest receptionist, a young man with a polite smile and a small computer screen projected over one eye.
  19. GM La Isla de la Reina Venerado Friday, September 5, 2014 4:20 PM La Isla de la Reina Venerado is a country rife with turmoil. The local dictatorship's only real competition in maintaining its power has been the foreign corporate interest seeking to gain control in either its medicinal advances or the illegal drug market. The island's illicit drug market is the ire of many a hero whose quest to end their local drug imports run into a wall with getting cooperation from the island. It is the sort of place that tends to shy away from foreign aid. That was until the category 5 hurricane hit. Hurricane Dave was a small highly focused storm that seemingly would only hit the small area of the Atlantic that housed this small island nation. As hurricanes are categorized by wind speed and not size, many wrote off the danger as it would not hit any truly populous land masses. Which did nothing to help to the solitary island in its plight. Not prepared for the catastrophic damage that would occur after ten hours the government finally sent out a request for foreign assistance. By the time heroes finished braving the 186 mph winds, it was estimated that the tropical cyclone was in its final hour of life. But the relief effort had only just begun.
  20. Silberman's Books. Sunday, February 8th, 2015. 10:00am A small printed sign was taped to the inside of the front door window: CLOSED FOR STORE MEETING Shop owner Lynn Epstein was nervously pacing up and down in front of the the bar, her staff mostly seated around the main table in the middle of the sales floor; due to the step up into the older part of the store, this meant they were all looking down on her somewhat. Great; I already feel like I'm on trial. Kiki came from around from behind the bar, occasionally casting a reassuring look towards her friend and employer as she carried a tray with coffee and doughnuts to the table; she was the only one who fully knew what was going on, though some of the others might have a few guesses. Clearing her throat, Lynn finally began. "Uh, hey guys; thanks for coming in a little early today. I don't know how long this will take or...anything, really, so I figured it would be best if we just...well..." Her employees shifted uneasily and exchanged concerned glances; normally Lynn was not this tongue-tied. Sensing their nervousness, the petite brunette suddenly held up her hands. "Nobody's getting fired, if that's what you're thinking, and the store's not closing, either; all of you still have a job." "Where's Mrs. N," asked Cred0; typically he'd work with her on Sunday afternoons. This led to new murmurs of concern; the beloved Jewish grandmother was elderly, so it was certainly possible- Lynn rubbed her face and sighed. "No, Mrs. Nussbaum is fine, that's not why we're here." She sagged back against the bar for a few seconds, suddenly feeling very, very old; but then she took a deep breath and seemed to reinflate. With great effort, she met everyone's gaze, one after the other. "Look, I have a confession to make; several, actually. We've been working together side by side for six months now; we might not all be best friends, but I think we've bonded a bit, right? And some of you might have seen things or heard things, and I think it's time to set the record straight. Because friends don't keep secrets from each other." She paused, closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm...not human." She grimaced and spread her arms wide. "There, I said it."
  21. GM June 12th, 2014, 4.45 PM, Half-Moon Summit Park, west Springsvale, Arizona "Found it like this. Last week." said Jane Aqui as she climbed out of the truck, the middle-aged park ranger tilting her broad brown hat a little farther from her eyes, the better to squint at the ungainly, smelly heap in front of her. She'd kept a polite few feet from the new arrivals since first meeting them, the odd crew seeming to get a little more awe even than the usual outside the world's super-capital. Even the evidently taciturn Jane had dug a little deeper than the usual "Can you really do magic?" that seemed to come up every time they were recognized. Which admittedly had been twice. Springsvale wasn't much. At the best of times, and especially when perched a few hundred feet above the valley the town stood in, it was compact and industrious, a collection of pale houses, a brightly-painted school and dark warehouses, offices and factories hugging miles of the scrub-rich eastern bank by a small, fast-running, very blue river, the town's dusty road running south to the I-15 highway only a few miles distant. A few bits of suburbia spilled away from the river, looking very much like fingers on some skeletal hand. Somewhere behind them, far out of sight past the hills, lurked the rugged Grand Canyon's eastern end. Far below, another truck pulled into town, one of dozens they'd seen since getting to Springsvale forty-seven minutes ago. Small ponds and rivlets spilled away from the main Springwater, but beside those distractions it ran as direct as compass point. They weren't there for the sights, though. At least, not the natural, or man-made ones. They had been called here to deal with the giant snake lying in a dead, mouldering heap in front of them, surrounded by sickly-glowing runes. A small camp of white tents had sprung up in another clearing about 50 yards away, from Phoenix University judging by the emblem a few of the laughing, chatting twenty-somethings and dignified-looking elders sported, and the comically grand white-red flag. The heat and wind hadn't been kind to the corpse, it was bleached enough to disguise whatever color it had been before, and was now a feeble yellow-brown. It was lying on its back, belly cut open and resting a gaping, sunken head on its coils. It was already sagging from decay. They had been able to smell it long before they saw it. Ranger Aqui cleared her throat "Gathered you folks knew about this...kind of thing. Heard it from those kids who do that show about the town. It's not normally that strange. 'Least not giant-snake-strange." She turned her squint to the ghoulishly-painted necromancer, the robed witch, and the biker-looking woman with the stick "So..." her squint turned quizzically to the deceased serpentine object of their distress "...what's this mean?"
  22. Almost a week after the unfortunate incident with the sabotaged plane, Naomi finally received a summons to ArcheTech headquarters. She'd filed exhaustive reports, of course, been debriefed by her supervisor, Vithya Naganathan, as had Mike and Rory, her ground team, and Keegan her backup pilot. She'd had an extensive physical that included checks of vision, hearing, reflexes and proprioception, which had been a little bit interesting given some of the things she hadn't known her body could do until recently. But all of that had been done at the test facility at Lonely Point, a place she was already familiar and comfortable with. Today's summons was to the tower in Hanover, where Naomi hadn't been since she was hired. The lobby of the imposing building was not so bad; sure it was very large, but its grandeur was softened by the fact that it was full of schoolchildren exploring displays on the wonder and excitement of renewable energy and recycling. The noise and bustle of kids on a field trip was distracting until she made her way to the relative quiet of the horseshoe-shaped front desk, where an extremely efficient-looking young woman with an earpiece scanned Naomi's ID badge with a palm-held scanner. "You're meeting with Miss Americana," she told Naomi tonelessly. "You're cleared for top-floor access. Please follow the arrows." She gestured, and a line of green arrows lit up along the midline of the wall, heading for a bank of elevators. "Have a nice day."
  23. Aboard the Solar Dawn The Parrin system, between the Lor Republic and Stellar Khanate Situated in an expanse of unclaimed space between the Lor Republic and the Stellar Khanate, the Parrin system was home to a native civilization that did all they could to retain a position of neutrality with both major space powers. The Parrin engaged in trade with both, had envoys with both powers and had treaties with both powers. Among the ways the Parrin worked to stay on good terms with both powers was by offering services to passing ships from both the Republic and the Khanate. One of those included the Solar Dawn, a casino situated at the edge of an inner system asteroid belt which ringed the system's large red sun. Positioned on the outer edge of the asteroid belt, the Solar Dawn had breath taking views of the belt set against the blazing light of the star. But of course, most who came here paid little attention to the views, focused instead on the various games of chance that were available. But Oskar Otto was not one of those. Today the displaced human was on the Solar Dawn to meet Nerrit H'aan, one of his old contacts about a possible job. Otto's involvement with Nerit went back to when he was still working for Zaul Zeno, and the trader had maintained his connections with Otto even after Zeno had disappeared. Otto had made his way through one of the main casino floors, crowded with beings from all over the parsec. He had even spotted a group of Lor soldiers in a dice game with a group of Khanate troops in the crowd. Climbing a staircase, Otto reached a restaurant/bar area overlooking the casino floor he had just passed through. The area was up against one of the walls of the station, which was made of tall transparent alloys that allowed for a clear view of the asteroid field, the Parrin star sitting beyond, its red light casting an unusual glow within the station. The communication for Nerrit indicated he would be waiting for Otto in a booth on this level. Elsewhere on the station Ana Plonsky had spent a bit of time since their arrival at the Solar Dawn looking to see if she might be able to obtain some spare parts for the Xeno. But while the station did have some basic facilities for ships docked there, it was far from a full service repair facility, and had little in the way of parts suppliers aboard. So, it had not be long before she abandoned her search and instead made her way to one of the bars aboard the station....
  24. GM Leaf Fields Inc. Hanover, Freedom City New Jersey Monday, June 23, 2014 8:48 PM Leaf Fields Inc was far from an industry leader in any field. With the only real significant technological advancements they have made being found on television ads. The sheer number of products that LFI was able to engineer had at least made their profit margins very profitable. Then came their first real breakthrough. The Gravimatrix armor. A power armor that was designed to allow the wearer to manipulate gravitons to control the force of gravity within a limited radius around the suit. The potential applications were numerous. LFI would have been put on the map. If only the suit hadn't been stolen two weeks ago. There wasn't a single shred of evidence of whom the thief was. And they had made sure to completely wreck the R&D lab in the process of stealing the suit. The Freedom City police were on the case of course. Ever vigilant in their search. But, no one had so much as found a breadcrumb leading back to the robber. Then the robberies started. Several members of Freedom City's morally questionable yet sufficiently affluent elite found their homes broken into. The signs of a tremendous force ripping even the most tremendous safe apart as if it were thin sheets of paper. Anything stolen could not be reported to the police, thanks to the legal ramifications that the owners would face. Those with the right ear to the ground noticed a sudden influx of anonymous donations to the Freedom City orphanages and various charities after every robbery. The LFI only focused on the fact that they could easily recognized the signs of their own technology at work. With the police at a dead end, they began to seek assistance elsewhere. Letting it be known through more unsavory elements that they were willing to pay for the return of their suit. Whereas, those whom had the insult of being stolen from had more ruthless intention. Going so far as to hire out criminal elements to eliminate the thief and any competition in the pursuit of recovering all their profits and sending a message. The situation soon became hard for AEGIS to ignore tasking a field agent on to the case. Samantha Vance, otherwise known as Kit, had found out. And Nevermore had come upon the knowledge while making a grown man realize the forgotten sensation of pure terror from several stories above the pavement.
  25. February 14, 2014 Trevor Hunter lifted his girlfriend's feet with one hand to make room for himself on the loveseat before replacing them over his lap and handing her the steaming mug of hot chocolate he'd brought over from the adjacent kitchenette. In a fit of theater that went above his usually limited talent for food preparation he'd drizzled a swirl of melted dark chocolate around the whipped cream topping, taking advantage of the prodigious amount of confection they'd gathered in preparation for the four day long weekend they'd carved out for themselves. The room they'd settled into for the late afternoon was one of the less used in his family's manor, the short couch and the rest of the furniture looking like it had last been replaced sometime in the 1970s but it was the only room on the second floor with a fireplace, crackling away pleasantly now, and it had an extra touch of privacy compared to the larger rooms of the ground level. A cart that looked suspiciously like it might have been repurposed from carrying trays of beakers had been laden with a bountiful selection of fresh fruits and picnic foods while the side table that supported his own mug of black coffee also featured what had certainly been chemistry equipment before beginning a new career as a chocolate fondue pot. With a silent, happy sigh, Trevor settled in and lifted his cup to take a slow sip. It was nice to just have some quiet time with Erin for once, without some impending crisis hanging over their heads.
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