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GM The Fens Evening Early March 2022 The Fens was in chaos. A pair of super villains had made the district into their own personal battlefield, fighting through the the streets, the rooftops and anywhere they could. One of them was a man in light brown cargo pants and full face mask, with a slightly lighter brown cape and yellow glasses, a black trenchcoat over the rest of his clothes. He was heavily armed, with a pair of rifles strapped to his back and handguns in his hands. He was flipping around, shooting and shouting, laughing and having the time of his life. The other was a man in completely black costume , with letters in different fonts, forms and colors that seemed to move and shift all over it. He made noises, and words sprang to life before him, letters appearing in the air before him taking on the properties of the words that he spoke. SHIELD to block the shots, BOOM to blow things up. He didn't say much, aside from that, but he was throwing everything he had at his opponent. Somebody would have to do something to save the Fens!

Winter 2021 Kyiv It was a grey day in Kyiv, grey and white as heavy snow fell on top of what was already a heavy snow cover. But the people of Ukraine's capital were used to this, along with the various new super-coming-and-goings that the recent creation of Rurland, the robotic homeland, had brought to the region. But even so, the Ukraine was not Freedom City, and when Angelic dropped out of the cloud cover there were excited exclamations and snapping pictures. Eira liked that, so she flew a little slower as she circled Mykhailivska Square before coming in for a landing on front of its statuary. It was definitely cold, somewhere below 1C by her internal sensors, but she was comfortable in her cape and shorts combination. A few passersby wanted pictures, a few autographs, and with a smile the beautiful golden-haired goddess went about her work, snapping open an electric pen from her pocket. It was nice to be appreciated.

Freedom City. Southside/Bayview Border. January 22, 2022. 2PM. Jimmy’s Shake Shack. GM Jimmy’s Shake Shack was exactly the kind of dive one would expect. It served burgers, hot dogs, French fries, and milkshakes. All of it was better than you’d expect, but no Michelin stars would ever be awarded. Terrifica picked it because Nevermore ought to know of it, and it was as calorie laden as Miracle Girl liked to eat. Her powers apparently demanded a diet higher in calories than most. There wasn’t a plan, really. It just seemed proper to introduce her new mentee to her old one. They could eat, talk, and then go on their way. She, naturally, had her ways of getting in touch with both of them.

As arranged when your ready to leave a taxi arrives to take you to the departure point, not only is it remarkable well time whatever company you choose you get a classic old style taxi. The driver, who speak in the broadest Jersey accent, explains that everything been paid for and he (or she) knows a few shortcuts to get you to the spot quickly. And indeed despite the traffic you seem to get there in almost no time at all! Your destination is the docklands all light up with a rather impressive layout for the whole thing. You can see what appear to be giants, probably Cyclopes, keeping back a fairly large crowd. Leading this security is a woman dressed all in black with a large skirt and veiled hat, you can tell it’s probably one of the Gorgons as her snake hair has been (carefully) teased into a ponytail. Your taxi stops a distance away from all this, in a relatively darkened area, and your met by what seems to be you guide to all this, a nymph or satyr, suitable dressed for this kind of night. (those of you that choose to skip the taxi are met by suitable creatures, including Tux wearing harpies for those that fly, who explain similar things). They explain that theatre has been laid out a whole media circus arranged, with photo ops and interviews as you wished, but they then point out a back route darkened and out of shot for those that wish to avoid all that. This leads down to the dock and your transport to the gala. Those of you that still wish to run the gamut of the press are guided to a small gaggle of PR people, who seem to have been picked from the smaller newer superhero PR companies. Your assigned PR agent for the night explains that the red carpet has been split into three groups. The first group are student reports and small independent creators, lots of social media types a few you might recognize for there fairly balanced reporting, no influence types just out for themselves. You then have the local new people, from all the television, radio and newspaper, and finally the national and international reporters. There are even spot where you can instead go and meets the fans who came out to watch this media circus, either in the crowd or places set aside for more intimate meetings. After spending however much you wished dealing with the press and public you go down to the river to see your transport to the gala itself. Down a set of steps, with Tritons and Nereids keeping people safe, is a wooden boat looking like a miniature Ancient Greek Trireme with it sweeping eye festooned prow. At the stern is a tall cowled figure ready to row you to your destination. It was be a good guess that this is Charon, helped by your assistant giving you a obol for the journey, though they insisted it was just a souvenir for the night. Once about a dozen or so of you were seated in the boat a silent Charon pushes the boat off the dock and begin to punt the boat, that after only a few meters disappears for those in Freedom City to appear halfway around the world. This is the first 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 Gorgon will need a Ref's permission, Charon however will not speak at all he's just here to do a job! Player characters with suitable job are welcome to work in there civilian roles before going off (or not) to the gala itself.

Sunday, February 27th 2022, Midday afternoon Predator /Shift end in approximately 14 seconds…/ “Thank you, Cynthia.” Jean snarled as the tentacles tightened around her, trying to crush the armored shell protecting her from the alien environment of the dimensional transition. Servos strained as she fought to pull herself free of the creature. She didn’t even know what it was or what it wanted, and frankly she didn’t care. Honestly, she didn’t even know if it was actually sentient. It had been pulled into the space between worlds with her when she shifted. She’d been through this often enough that she’d been able to tune her sensors to the subtle signs of when a shift would hit her and estimate when it would drop her into a new world. Seconds ticked down as she fell through the nothingness between worlds, struggling against an abomination nearly four times her size. Freeing an arm finally, the fingers of her gauntlet retracted and a click-snap was lost to the colorful void. A foot and a half long blade extended from the back of the hand of the foreplate, just under the Duster plate and clicked into place. With a vicious slash, the edge bit into the tendrils ensnaring her other arm. Again and again she hacked until her other arm was freed. In an instant, a matching blade appeared and Predator began driving the mono-edged weapons deep into the rubbery flesh of what seemed to be the main ‘body’ of the creature. Purple ichor ran from the numerous wounds she dealt it. /4…3…/ The numbers echoed in her ears as she desperately tried to free herself. /2…1…/ Crap, wherever she was about to wind up, it seemed she was going to have an unwanted tag-a-long. /0…/ Inside her helmet, Jean shut her eyes against the disorientation of shifting. Nothing happened for a full two seconds. It was only an estimated timing after all, it wasn’t right all the time, to be honest it was never 100% correct. Another second passed and a tentacle slipped around one of her arms again. She pulled her other arm back to slash… A new reality slammed into the combatants. The force driving them apart as the duo fell through open midday air. Predator quickly recovered, it wasn’t her first shift after all. Noting the pull of gravity on her again she twisted as she fell, getting a view of where she was falling to. Below her a city stretched out beyond her current field of view. Inside her helmet, screens flickered and shifted as a wave of new data was being processed. /Locate gravity detected…calculating time to impact…7 seconds…6…/ Jean grunted, but her primary concern was the mass of tentacles and teeth mere meters away from her. It was slightly lower then her, most likely due to their relative orientation when they shifted. Somewhere in the corner of her HUD the local time and date synced and she made a split second decision. ‘Sunday…’ She thought briefly. /5…4…/ Predator twisted again, bring the hands of her gauntlets to bear on the creature. The blades click-snapped, collapsing and sliding back into the forearms of the suit as her palms opened to reveal the focusing lens of the twin blasters set within. Taking only a moment to note her surroundings and judge her attack. /3…/ Light erupted as the energy blasts struck the creature. The force actually slowing Predator’s decent even as they drove the creature down with more momentum. The angle of the attack drove the thing into a nearby building, sending it plowing into empty offices before it could land on the populated street or sidewalk. The sound of the impact alerted those below, causing a commotion as people either ran for cover or pulled out cell phones. /2…/ It didn’t matter to Predator though, as long as they stayed out of harm’s way. Using her maneuvering thrusters she slowed her fall and angled into the opening in the building’s exterior. Inside the ruined office Predator rolled with her landing and came up with her palm blasters ready, Cynthia’s countdown cutting off. The creature was not in sight though. Dust and papers fluttered in the air, settling around the destroyed furniture. She could hear the buzz of damaged lighting and the interior was dim, but not dark. It had only been a moment between her shots and her entering, it should be in sight. Slowly the smooth faceplate of the helmet scanned the room. Nothing registered on her sensors and she began to worry. /Negative signs of movement…/ Cynthia offered. “Gimme thermal vision.” Jean ordered. /Engaging.../ On her screens the color palette of her imaging switched to the colorful gradations of infrared thermal sight. It was hiding, waiting to strike. This had been how it has surprised her just before she shifted. It had come out of nowhere, latching on to her seconds before they both dropped out of that world and fell into the void between worlds as she had decided to call it. What it didn’t count on was that this time it was the prey, and a Predator was the one on the hunt for it.

The Harrow Estate, North Bay. Thursday, April 14th, 2022. Noon. Lulu Beaumont sat cross-legged on her bed, staring down at all her acceptance letters and program materials from various colleges and universities spread out before her. Her eyes darted from letter to letter, to glossy brochure and then to pamphlet, her right leg pumping nervously the whole time. At length, she sighed, through up her hands, and rolled off the bed onto her stocking feet, and began padding towards her foster mother's home office. Once she got there, she gently knocked on the open door; it was indicative of her state of mind that she was still wearing her oversized Alabama State jersey and pink sleeping pants this late in the day. "Hey Megan, you got a second?" She hung on the door frame as though afraid to step inside.

Spring 2022 Jean had heard plenty about agents of the US government; even met a few during her settling into this dimension. This one was female, which was a trifle unusual. Her hair cut short and black, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, her body wrapped in a suit and tie - well that wasn't so unusual. Once she'd shown her US government ID to the fox woman, demonstrating her bona fides as a member of the organization called the "United States Secret Service" 'Ashley Tran' said "Do you mind if I come in?" Well she's definitely a bipedal fox. Ashley remembered her meeting with the Copycat of Ani-Earth back when she was in high school and decided she wasn't going to cast judgement on this dimensional refugee. What the hell; being here had to be like a little slice of madness all the time. Well it's about to get even crazier.

GM April 20th, Wednesday, 2022, 11.30AM Guthrie Gallery of Energy Innovations, Freedom City University, Freedom City, USA Adorning the Gallery's entrances were banners inviting readers to "SEE THE FLYING ALIEN PYRAMID!", strategically augmented with "Free food!", "Live music!" and "Meet Max Mars!" Whatever else could be said about him, in this case all those things were true. Inside was an extravaganza of Max Mars' usual levels. The austere and functional layout of the Guthrie Gallery, a rotating exhibition of various energy sources from steam engines to a replica Omegadrone Power Pike, was coated in glitz and excess. On one stage, up-and-coming rock sensation Frank Larrabee sang about the misty forests and mountains of his hometown, Emerald City, and of the unsolved mysteries they hid from wondering eyes. On another, acoustically-isolated from the rock balladeer, metal band Spydor acted out the War of Taranok and Scorvicious, and on a third pop idol Silvia "Silver" Moon and the Moonlites danced through a confrontation with hereditary illness and the stigma against the chronically-ill. The technology making it possible for all three acts to be on at the same time without their performances interfering had its own mini-exhibit, replete with attractive salespersons. Booths pertaining to other recent inventions, including the Phobos V utility-phone, and advertising positions within MarsTech itself, packed the halls. The free food ranged from buffet-style steam trays to onigiri to fresh-baked pretzels, in quantities sufficient to feed even a crowd of university students and guests with families. And in the center, visible from all the arms of the Gallery, was the huge floating, pulsing nightmare of metal and stone that was the alien pyramid. A suite of technicians kept a careful eye on read-outs behind the cordon set up around the pyramid itself, a cordon guarded by smiling and uniformed representatives of Brande Mangement, a company so mysterious that all anyone really knew about it was that it hired superhumans as security personnel. In the shadow of all this, Max Mars, standing proud in his five-nothing frame cloaked in a resplendant red suit, held court and eagerly explained what the strange machine was and its ramifications. The crowd that had gathered filtered in and out, kept up to date everywhere in the Gallery on Max's endless patter through the P.A. system. "This is better than gold, folks! A working alien spacecraft! If you think anti-gravity is for your grandkids, you're in for a shock! With this baby we've picked out planets NASA wouldn't have found for another 80 years, at least! A food replicator, a database of languages we've barely begun to scan, and this ain't even it's full size! Before we dug it up, the people in that Mexican village thought it was just another hill! This is our ticket to the stars, people! Without having to wait until Americatech deigns to grace us with the answers, we'll make our own!" That last hit more of a sour note with the Freedom City crowd than it might have back on the West Coast. But Mars' other words, and the various gizmos around the central hall demonstrating the applications of this alien super-tech, left a much more positive impression. "And best of all!" Max's grin seemed barely able to fit on his red-bearded face, "We've found the space jockey who piloted this thing! He's been trapped inside, for thousands of years, and you'll be here when he says his first words to us! So stick around, folks, enjoy yourslelves, and get ready for an outta-this-world encounter!"

GM Rath & Stromberg Plaza in Wading Way, Freedom City October 24th, 2021 3:32 AM The doors to Rath and Stromberg caved in, a group of four standing in the entrance. A tall man in a trenchcoat and welder's mask stood silhouetted, an enormous rifle smoking in his large, gauntleted hands. The red lenses of his mask were glowing red. Behind him stood a titan of a man, ten feet tall and plated in armour from head to toe. On his shoulders sat a small, brunette woman with a vulpine grin and a fluffy mane of hair, a domino mask covering her eyes. Finally, there was another woman, surrounded by soft green light, who didn't seem to be very interested in the events unfolding. Those who'd been paying attention to their phones would have seen the clips caught on phones of this group doing a series of smash and grabs across Freedom, sometimes teleporting in, others simply running or driving across the city. After a short dramatic pause they started marching inside, the lead man talking as he walked. "Everyone on the ground, and hands where we can see them. Don't try to be a hero, I'm sure the professionals are on the way. Just stay down, we'll take what we're after and be out of your hair. Stay quiet and none of you will be in any danger." The words were calm and measured. Clinical. The grinning woman laughed slightly before speaking up. "Come on Shadey-" "Don't call me that." " -we're robbin' a bank! You can live a little! Have some fun! Come on, back me up Anarchilles." The large, armoured man, Anarchilles, laughed. It was a sound like a volcano erupting. "I wouldn't mind having some fun." The glowing woman just mumbled something unintelligible. Ignoring them Steel Shade just marched forwards, knocking out a pair of security guards who tried to intercept him and striding past the reception desk. Just as he was about to head through a Staff Only door, he turned to the trio. "Keep the heroes busy for the next two minutes. Non-lethal only. Don't hurt the civillians." To the tones of some more mumbling and a cheery "You gots it boss!" He disappeared through the doors.

Burnham Military Camp Near Christchurch Aotearoa/New Zealand July 3nd, 2021 On the first day of the Matariki celebrations an army of giants appeared from the Southern Alps, marching upon the city of Christchurch. With no time to respond the New Zealand Armed Forces had to turn to other sources of help. And so, the day after Matariki the government of Aotearoa put forth a call for heroes. At Burnham Military camp a liaison waited for the heroes to arrive, smiling when relief when the four heroes were assembled in front of the building. "Thank you all for coming so swiftly."

Spring 2022 HAX When she was in America, it was not unusual for Eira to stop by Mara's place to collaborate with Ryder, or just to carry a message from Miss Americana to her erstwhile colleague. But Ryder wasn't at work on the April morning when Angelic landed on HAX's roof, her blue and gold cape flying behind her in what was actually a raging storm. She was tall and blonde in her adult body, looking a bit like a Viking warrior, a bit like her biological mother, and if you looked closely quite a bit like Miss Americana, right down to a costume in Swedish patriotic colors. Showing unaccustomed hesitation, she stood there in the driving rain, carefully clutching a plastic-wrapped box under her arm that bulged about the size of a loaf of bread, before she strode for the elevator down into the main body of the building.

January 30th, 2022, Sunday, 3PM Harold Hitspike's panic room, Hitspike Heuristics, 27th floor of 1386 Pittsburgh Ave., Freedom City, New Jersey, USA, Earth "So as you can see, Mr. Daye," bluff, red-haired young Hagar Hitspike nodded at the charred skeleton in the centre of the pentagram, surrounded by an otherwise spotless and undisturbed steel panic room, "this is a little outside of our understanding." Despite being a good foot shorter than Christopher and swathed about the middle in a long bath towel, the man looked both composed and solemn. His brother and sister, standing nearby, nodded vigrously. The towering, gaunt-faced, gold-haired woman who'd introduced herself as Hildegard wiped a tear from her eye with her green silk dress's sleeve, adding in a voice trembling with dismay "Yes! Father never trafficked with the hellish forces of the underworld! Me and Baby Harry knew all his business dealings. This is all some terrible frame-up job!" "Yes, uh...ah...hm..." White-haired, portly Harold Jr. was too stunned to say anything intelligible, and the man stumbled to his father's desk back in the rich wood-paneled office to sit down. "Now I understand this has been a little disorienting," Hagar said with an apologetic look somewhere under his dripping hair and beard, "seeing as we have for some unaccountable reason all stepped into this room at the same time from different places. God knows I didn't expect to come out of the shower and see my father a charred-black skeleton. But we can pay handsomely and the police stopped taking our calls years ago. So, well..." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. His sister stepped around the puddle forming at Hagar's feet to seize one of Christopher's hands with her own, her long nails and tough skin creating the effect of being grasped in the talons of some huge bird of prey. "I can't think of anyone else who could get to the bottom of this, Mr. Daye! Please, if you possibly can, find out what happened! What killed our father, and why?!"

GM The Painted Desert, Arizona October 4th, 2020 10:00 AM "Sorry kids, grandpa wasn't kidding about this desert being hell during storms." Blue Squad had been told that they would be going on a field trip to Arizona, to the painted desert, to meet up with a Doctor Macedon for a survival class. Leon might have heard about his friends' trip the year before, and how the aging Doctor Macedon had decided to swear off any and all future field trips after yet another trip to the past through the Magic Mesa, but maybe this time would be different? The whole thing had started out pretty well. Doctor Alexandra Macedon had picked Blue Squad up at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with an off-road van with enough space for the entire crew, their luggage and Danica's ride. It turned out she was the previous doctor Macedon's granddaughter, and she had been more than happy to take up the task of leading another squad on a survival class. They had reached their dropoff point and then proceeded out into the desert. A few hours later, a sandstorm had started kicking up, slowly growing in strength and intensity. "We gotta find shelter! Anybody see anything?" Doctor Macedon's long brown hair was kicking around her in the wind already, while she fought to keep her stetson secure on her head. Up ahead, the group could see a mountain that just so happened to have a cave.

Winter 2021 The interview location had not been the Patriot's idea. Showing the Christmas lights of the reclaimed Ashton Community Center behind her, symbolizing a city's victory over the Terminus and the holiday season, was certainly festive and even appropriate for the brand-new Danger News Network's interview with the Patriot. But the air here still felt wrong, buzzing with alien energies and danger, and it had her on edge as she paced the small trailer where she was waiting for her interview to start. Her makeup was done, her costume was on, and Daisy her night assistant was doing her best to keep both of the former under control. Daisy was a Claremont alum too, a flighty blonde who had gotten into some serious trouble after she'd left the school, but damn if she hadn't already proven her efficiency running the evening shift. It was the evening shift now; cold enough in the New Jersey darkness that the Patriot's interviewer was probably going to be dressed to his or her best. "I still can't believe they switched out interviewers at the last damn minute," Ashley was grumbling. "I knew we should have gone with an established network." "It'll be fine," said Daisy warmly, smiling with her darkly painted lips. In her drab brown pullover and skirt, she practically blended in with all the DNN staffers scuttling about outside as they made sure the lights were on and the season festive outside. "Making friends with the Dangers is good business in Freedom City, even if they do make life more complicated sometimes." She shook her head, checked her buzzing phone, and said, "Listen, I just got a text that the new interviewer is here. I'll go get them, bring them here, and then you can check them out for yourself before you start. You're going to do fine," she added, leaving Ashley sitting in the trailer's swivel chair. Ashley took out her own phone to make sure her sister was watching the show tonight, and Daisy headed out into the chill to see if she could spot the new interviewee, making sure to take frequent sips from the heated, sealed mug she was carrying so that her breath would stay foggy warm outside.

GM An afternoon in the middle of July, 2021 Claremont Academy For whatever reasons, a group of students had arrived early at Claremont this year, before the classes were even about to start. They came from very different lives, and had very different powers, but for whichever reasons, they were to stay at Claremont, along with a few others, during the summer months. And, despite the summer vacation, they needed someone to show them around, and that job had fallen to Luke and Leon. They had probably complained, but headmistress Summers had promptly shut them down by reminding them about some of their misbehaviour during the past school year. They four new students, Onyx, Effigy, Invisigirl and Freedom Eagle were all ready in normal clothes, waiting for Nightscale and Paper to show them around.

GM Smoke and Mirrors Abandoned Casino Midnight La Puma Negra and Nightscale Once as glamorous and luxurious as the other casinos in the renowned Freedom City Boardwalk, the Smoke and Mirrors have been abandoned for ages. In fact, Nightscale couldn't remember a time when the large lot hadn't been left to disrepair. It's halls only occasionally disturbed by Southside teens testing their bravado, Luke himself having spent 'almost' an entire night there in his younger years, struggling to put up a mask of courage while twitching at every moving shadows and unexpected creek in the dark. Where once music boomed, spectacles reigned, fortunes were won and lost now only silence and rats reigned and it had been so for year. Not that night though. Something... well something had changed. Nightscale had been warned by his friends that unmarked vans now frequently stopped at the casino in the wee hours in the morning for mysterious deliveries and that new locks had been installed at the windows and doors, the place now the province of some unknown buyer. Now perhaps there was nothing sinester going on, maybe someone was just planning a grand reopening in secret, but even at his young age Luke had been a superhero for long enough to grow at least a bit suspicious and besides, it was not like that taking a look wouldn't hurt. Perhaps in a rare bout of foresight, or maybe just due to the memories of that frightful nocturne exploration a few years before, the Southside Dragon had decided that not to go alone, instead asking Carmen to join him in this mission, and so there they were, on a rooftop nearby studying the darkened building from above, planning their next moves. Mirror Knight The two teenagers from Claremont however were not alone, as another hero stalked the streets. Mr Jonathan Rorrim had been drawn to the Smoke and Mirrors, not by rumors and mysterious dealing though, it was something more primal, a dimensional disturbance of sort that he had registered at the site, one that at the same time was unknown and yet dreadfully familiar. He could not tell how, but he was certain of a presence hiding within the bowel of the building, one bearing a nefarious intent.

Spring 2022 Eira spent an unusual amount of time crafting this message - the twenty or thirty minutes she'd spent on it had been nearly an eternity for an artificial mind such as her own. Various versions of it were going out to certain people, albeit with certain edits. The gist of the final paragraph was this: "So anyway - it should not be surprising that a mind like mine would experience emotional upheaval in a child's form, having by then rapidly moved beyond such things given my rapid development. I would not claim dysmorphia for myself - I am Swedish, not English - but surely it is an inevitable consequence of uploading such as mine. Naturally even with an artificial brain, some emotional control would be compromised. Since uploading into my adult body I have had a chance to think more carefully. I have been reviewing my past conversations with you-" which was easy enough since she had perfect recall of all of them, in all forms, and would until she chose to delete them, died, or the stars went out - "and I at times allowed the anger I was feeling at myself to speak instead of my real feelings for you. You are my friend. If I ever gave you cause to think otherwise, I apologize. Yours, Eira Katastroff Natt och Dag." When the message was done, edited for its various receivers, she sent it out with a nod - and then with a sigh, raised her eye protection and reactivated the plasma torch. This probe wasn't going to cut itself open; and maybe today she didn't want to see her messages right as they came in. She signaled the player in the room to get back to Deceiver "louder!" and smiled as plasma hit super-tough metal.

October 2021 Southside Serbian Orthodox Church (formerly) The Southside Serbian Orthodox Church had been a center for the Serbian community in this part of Freedom City since the turn of the last century. But though the Southside was still the working-class neighborhood it had been in 1900, now it was a neighborhood full of immigrants from Latin America and the Caribbean, immigrants who had their own community centers and own churches. The SSOC (or St. Stephen's if you wanted to get technical) had stood vacant and abandoned for over a decade, a remnant of what had once been a thriving place. But now good times had come. The long-abandoned building had been sold to a local organization and was about to be refit into a community center and skatepark. In a few months, skilled artisans would come in and carefully remove the art that long-dead craftspeople had laid down on the walls and ceilings to a Serbian-American museum across town. But in the meantime, ten years of neglect means plenty of time for a lot of cruft to accumulate, cruft that a group of young metahumans were just right to handle discreetly. So it was that early one Saturday morning, the teenagers had been dropped off outside St. Stephen's with empty dumpsters, gloves and cleaning equipment, and all anyone could need to clean the place. They had permission to use their powers, even wear their costumes, albeit discreetly. "This is such a shame," said Owain, his usually-jovial face solemn as he stood outside the church's side entrance. "A house of God left abandoned for so long, and to lose what it was even if they save the bones of the place. I wot not wither to go with such a task," he admitted. "At least you don't have to smell it," commented Neko in Japanese, wrinkling her nose as she looked at the long-abandoned church. She had actually fallen asleep leaning against Owain on the ride over, which meant her ears and tail had been visible the whole time as they were dropped off and given their instructions.

GM January 12th, 2022, 4:30 PM Bayview, not too far from Claremont Academy The doors to a bank exploded outwards, smoke pouring out into the street, quickly followed by four people in respectively red, yellow, blue and green suits with chaotic white triangle patterns rushing out of the building at great speed, all carrying heavy back. "Come on!" the man in green yelled, waving for the others to follow. "Let's go!" The women in blue and yellow and the man in red all seemed to agree, and they all started running down the street, while behind them, people started moving out of the bank, coughing through the smoke. But, as luck would have it, these dastardly villains were not alone on the street, and they would soon be met with the awesome might of heroes-in-training!

GM Afternoon, September 25th Millennium Mall, Midtown Freedom City It was raining, hard. Like so many other teens, young adults and older, Muirne, Luke, Leon and Charlie had found their way to Millennium Mall to have something to do now that classes were out for the week. Something somewhere dry, hopefully. Bernadette, for her part, happened to be in the mall at the same time. Maybe just a single her, maybe several, or maybe it all depended on the moment. As one would expect on a day like this, the mall was absolutely packed. People everywhere, in stores, in the food court, well... everywhere. The PA system routinely mentioned events like clean up to the toilets on the 2nd floor, a missing child near a toy store, lost phones and the like.

Southside, Route 6. HoN&Y Research Facility. 11 AM. "It seems like the lab has been engulfed by wax-like structures. It's incredible Kent." The journalist stared at the camera, her voice almost drowned by the incessant buzzing that had engulfed the small private research facility. "Freedom City PD had blocked the main road to the laboratory, but so far we don't have any information of what might have been transpiring inside." The man continued, as the camera panned toward a small army of cops, that were trying to do their best to keep a crowd of people away from the chain link fence that blocked the road leading to the laboratory itself. The structure, a simple tree story cement building, as the journalist had just described was almost encased in strange towers made of a wax-like substance and surrounded by what looked like swarms insects. "Hey! Are you seeing those?" Suddenly, four large objects emerged from the facility. "They are like? Robotic bees..." Indeed they were, pony-sized replicas of metallic bees, impressively detailed and surrounded by a small swarm of more traditionally sized drones. They flew at a speed that vastly surpassed the one of their natural counterpart. "They are headed toward us... They are... They are..." The image of the reporter was replaced by buzzing static. Although, with some effort, one could almost hear a chorus of voices underneath all the droning. "What was. Will Bee."

Freedom Hall New Jersey January 2022 When the wormhole opened up on Freedom Hall's lawn, just outside the protective technology that thwarted actual invasion, it was cold outside; enough that there was an actual coat of thin snow and ice on the ground this close to the Atlantic Ocean. But it was warm inside; the blaring alarms interrupting what had otherwise been a very interesting New Year's Party - albeit one with at least one important absence from the League's main roster. The Patriot, who had volunteered for monitor duty so that other people could enjoy themselves downstairs for a little while, took one look at the monitors and said "Goddamit," and thought No space-date tonight! as she moved from her position upstairs for the elevator. The first figure through the portal was a dark human outline, a uniform deep black with glowing white eyes surrounded by a circle of glowing black balls of anti-light. He, it, was followed closely by a gigantic, amber-skinned woman a good eight feet tall, wearing the gold and blue of the Centurion himself! More came behind them; a man with spiky hair wrapped in a tight black uniform with dark horns just visible above, accompanied by a glowing blue feminine form; and following them all was a sturdily-built figure in patriotic red, white, and blue, moving with the speed and grace of a panther. The team fanned out quickly and began talking among itself, some pointing at Freedom Hall, others at the street. The one in black called WE MEAN YOU NO HARM!

Claremont Academy Fall 2021 The members of Red Squad had been told their special weekend project was quite a doozy, and they were right - though perhaps not in the usual superpowered way. Escorting selected structural supports and architectural plans from the Centurion's Sanctum to the National Building Museum in Washington was a high honor, even if by all accounts it was just going to involve a trip in a private jet and a short car trip to the NBM. Waiting for them as they reported for their bus ride to the airport was their escort for the day; a woman none of them had met before, not to speak of, but who all of them had heard of. The Patriot, second to bear that title, was a solidly-built Asian woman who looked to be maybe thirty (though really, who could tell the ages of adults well) her face partially obscured by a dark red and blue armored helmet complete with chin guard, eyes hidden by white reflective lenses over the eyepiece. Her armored costume consisted of a blue Kevlar tactical shirt, white stain-repellent trousers, and maroon gauntlets. It's a look obviously inspired by the previous Patriot, with a few upgrades. She was waering a brown leather bomber jacket over the top of the costume with an American flag sewn on the back and white star over the heart. Her tactical boots didn't add enough to her height to make her 5'10" but she's close. Inside her helmet, Ashley was already dreading this, even as she was reminding herself to stow it. You volunteered for this job. That means keeping an eye on the kids, especially the ones Callie is keeping a special eye on. You spend a day with them, talk about working for the government and not hiding in the shadows, it's great. Her red white and blue bike was parked nearby the bus, whose driver was inside grabbing breakfast before they all hit the road. It was early morning for teenagers; Ashley had been up for hours. She stood with her arms folded over her chest and greeted the first student with "Morning. Just wait right there till everyone's here, I don't want to talk over the engine."

GM January 5th, 2022 Claremont Academy For almost a full year, Matt Wagner had been held at Claremont Academy's medical wing. Few knew that he was there, and fewer still seemed to pay him much mind. Luke Landers' friend-turned-cyborg had been quiet since the encounter with Nightscale and Watchdog, kept stable by the medical staff at Claremont, yet remaining unconscious and unmoving. Luke had been told that he was stable, at least. The second the day turned from January 4th to January 5th, Matt opened his eyes and smashed his way out of the room. The next morning, Luke was called. By the time he arrived, the headmistress was already in the medical wing, her eyes scanning the scene. "Your friend woke up, Mr. Landers." It sounded almost like a question.

GM A Place Beyond Time and Space Early March 2022 The Judges had come to them all. They had told the runners that they were among the fastest beings on this world, and this would be the race to determine the fastest being. A great title to be held, for sure. And the price would be great, one wish, to be fulfilled by these perfect beings, almost nothing would be impossible. As long as they ran. The runners that had accepted the race now stood in a wide open area, a barren wasteland with a dark red sky above. The moment they had acccepted, they had simply disappeared from where they were before, and now they were here, suddenly dressed in whatever they prefered to wear while running. The hard ground under their feet were paved with dark asphalt, and the road stretched as far ahead as any could see, right from the glowing white starting line. The Judges hovered above. Flowing dark grey robes, with glowing lights in vaguely humanoid shapes underneath, shifting across all colors of the spectrum. Heroes and villains from across the world mingled or kept to themselves. The heroes that had arrived would perhaps be able to recognize some of them, among the dozen or so runners. Get-Away, of Larceny Inc., a middle-aged woman with short black hair in a primarily white costume with purple shoulders and outer arms. Gumball Rally, a former intern to the Atom Family and super hero, now a member of the Candy Crew, wearing an Ultra-Speed Harness. Speed Freak, Johnny Rocket II's brother-in-law and Rocket's father, in a full body black suit with chaotic yellow and red lightning bolts, all features obscured. Faster Pussycat, the high profile thief in her skin-tight cat-themed costume. Johnny Speed, of the Tyranny Syndicate. He was older than when he had last fought Velocity, but his glare as he stared at her easily told her that he had not forgotten her. The only prominent speedster that seemed to be missing from the crowd was Johnny Rocket.