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  1. GM The Gateway, the Nucleus, Goodman Building, 1961 40th. Avenue, Midtown, Freedom City, United States of America, North America, Earth, the Solar System, Milky Way Galaxy, Earth-Prime. 10.47 AM, March 17th, Monday, 2014. The silence had grown almost unbearable as Maximus and Tesla Atom prepared the circular arch placed on raised steps in the center of the starkly-lit room. Hands tapped out short commands on the aged yet ruthlessly advanced control panels on either side as power thrummed through the portal, a kaleidoscopic miasma of shifting colors and shapes revolving in the center as dimensional energies were harnessed for a journey to the uttermost depth of the omniverse. While the the older siblings did their work, Victoria and Chase watched the bulky readout monitors beside them, once or twice calling out a word that touched faintly the edges of the visiting teen's scientific knowledge. Cosmo had a job as well, the blue primate flashing from shoulder to shoulder as he searched carefully for errant insects suck in unwieldy human hair. The destination for the four young superheroines was felt long before it was seen. A prickling across the skin, a sense of rawness in the air and a growing sense of something horrible drawing nearer had gone on for agonizing minutes before- "Got it," Tesla Atom's voice rang out suddenly, a hint of satisfaction behind the steely words as she swept her hand across a quartet of buttons, green energy flowing from her fingers to keep the triggers down, "incoming door locked." she looked up, ponytail bouncing against her neck as she quickly checked on her brother "Max?" "Everything's fine, Tess. Outgoing door just locked, no problems." The older Atom answered with a momentary glance to her. Maximus briefly flickered and passed wraith-like through the panel, solidified enough to check an errant power cable, give it a cautious nudge, and then drifted back to his station with a a relieved smile. It soon vanished though, replaced by a deep frown. "Stand by, Terminus Tunnel opening...now!" And with that, the mouth opened. Air rushed through the Gateway, a deep howling that had begun as the last word fell rose to a deep thunder, and the room trembled as a roiling whirlpool of red and white gaped before the four heroines and four Atoms. Cosmo screamed and vanished in a flash of light to reappear trembling on a rafter, and for a moment nobody said anything more, until Chase stepped over to the visitors. Regarding them with his earnest, penetrating eyes, he said in a quiet voice that cut through the howling wind "We'll shut the outgoing door the moment we know you're through, but like we said earlier, just trigger the Passport," a small metal box sheathed in a faint yellow aura slid out of his pocket and floated over to Blue Jay, "and Max and Tess will reposition the passage to Sanctuary. We will transport you and anyone you can save out of the Terminus. I guess you'll want a 'good luck'. I wish you success." he gave a stiff nod and retreated to Tesla's station. Victoria gave the foursome an encouraging grin "Don't worry, Chase, it's not like they're racing in to beat up Shady Ironpants or anything, just a quick and quiet trip there, Tona grabs her people, they get back, yadda yadda, everything's gonna be fine." Reaching up to the ceiling with an elastic arm, she gently scratched the family Moon Monkey behind his ears "Sucks we're not coming with, I want to meet this 'Steam General' jerk and show him my new Atom Punch! But this is your gig, we'll stay put unless you need us." Miming a boxing motion she turned her legs into a stool and sat with Cosmo on her lap, stroking him gently from long practice. Tesla smiled a little "What Vicky said. Keep in touch, and good luck. I'm sorry we can't go with you. Could be there's someone we know trapped in there too." The maw of the Terminus Tunnel never ceased its seething, its flickering blood-bone colors giving the sere room an ugly feel.
  2. Lynn's apartment over Silberman's Books. August 3rd, 2014. 7:54pm A letter had arrived at the Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship from Lynn Epstein, with a familiar West End address. Inside, was a handwritten note; the penmanship was graceful, almost archaic, but the writer's voice was unmistakable. The changeling was pacing again; it was humanly impossible to prepare for an evening like this, but Lynn had given it the good old never-finished-college try. The furniture was warm, earthy and inviting, she'd been scooting back and forth between the shop and her kitchen all day working on dinner, and she'd cycled through looks for a good half hour finding just the right balance of relaxed and respectable: a nice understated green summer dress, open-toed wedges and small pearl stud earrings (her current thing). As always, the lanyard with its ring was around her neck, and she fidgeted with it more than usual. Her curly shoulder length hair was gathered up, showing off her graceful neck and the points of her ears. Lynn's eyes flicked over to the clock on the mantelpiece, where it dully ticked down the minutes. Soon. Very soon.
  3. July 4, 2014 Freedom City "Damballah and Erzulie are with us." Cassandra Vale's doctorate was not in medicine, but between one thing and another there were few better doulas than La Sirene - especially for a water birth. Cassandra smiled and took her friend's hand. "Come on, Beth, let's get you in that tub." Despite the growing pains in her lower belly, Beth Walton-Wright was also smiling as Siren, her husband, and her midwife helped her into the tub - specially designed by Daedalus so that a woman strong enough to punch through steel wouldn't damage it while giving birth. After so many years of wanting, of prayers to Liberty and Justice and all the other gods and goddesses she'd known in her long career as a superheroine, she was about to have her baby! - July 4, 2014 Faneuil Hall Hulking and scarred, Steve Murdock stood as an island in the middle of a small sea of VIPs, waiting for the arrival of their very special tour guide. With a red shirt, blue slacks, and a white tie, he perfectly matched the color scheme for the day - right down to the Special Access pass pinned to his shirt. His special glasses gave the city and its crowd of tourists a faint greenish air, one that he knew would soon fade once the tour began. The special holographic technology built into the Archetech tour glasses would give the tourists a chance to see the Boston of 1776 (or at least its construction) overlaid on the Boston of 2014. Normally someone as high-profile as Miss Americana would not be involved in something as small as a tour, but the chance to show her work to tech executives, academics, and journalists alike had been too much for Gina to pass up. Intently he stared at the brochure in his hand, carefully memorizing everywhere they were going on their walking tour to the Common. People on Earth-Prime might take the idea of freedom and revolution for granted, but that was something Steve could never do - people had fought and died for the liberty of others in this city. It was very serious business. I will be here for Miss Americana to see what she has done. And after the tour, I will fly back to Freedom City, and Gina and I will watch the fireworks together. She will be happy today.
  4. Freedom City April 2014 The Crime Lab (Remote Site) Richard Cline was not one for advanced planning most of the time, but then again most of the time he wasn't going back to dinosaur times. "All right, the advance team has been on the island for almost a week, and they haven't run into anything larger than a Great Dane, so I think we'll be all right." He let one of the techs pop a USB into the computer's port (something he had deliberately notmastered), playing what looked like an iMovie recording of a mostly-deserted tropical island, complete with birds in the air and animals on the beach - until the viewer saw the teeth and scales on the feathered fliers overhead, or realized that those weren't dogs fighting over the washed-up fish on the beach. The island looked to be in the center of a small bay, with low hills and a river visible on the opposite coast a few miles away. "They're almost exactly at the site of Chicxulub, good good. We're lucky that island was there, the ultralights they sent out said it's all swampy marsh on the mainland." Fred Tanzin, the second unit director for Supercrime!, focused on the special guests. "We'll do some footage of you for the promos, either here in the studio once you come back or while you're in the field. We're still on for filming all the way from the 22nd through the 25th, local time. I know you've had a chance to read our briefing packet and be introduced to the on-air talent - but do you have any questions I can answer for you about the show?"
  5. Gizmo

    Thunderball

    Set had honestly expected tracking down Thrude Thorsdottir to be more difficult. Perhaps the godling had simply become too reliant on the infinite permutations of communication and social media pervading the modern mortal world but the prospect of locating one woman - even if she did admittedly stand out in a crowd - amongst the bustling city without the benefit of so much as a Twitter handle had seemed daunting. Set was hardly one to back down from a challenge once he'd made up his mind, however, and after a significant amount of sleuthing he'd found enough hasty smartphone videos of massive battle hammers and Facebook posts from annoyed meteorologists to at least fell like he was looking in the right neighbourhood. Ultimately, though, the building shaking thunderclaps and explosions towering over rooftops were much more helpful. "Ho! Adventure!" the Scion of the Sirocco exclaimed, bounding over parked cars and newspaper dispensers as he sprinted toward the source of the commotion.
  6. Ari

    Underwyrmed(IC)

    GM J.P. Morgan & Chase Bank, Mcullough-Adams, Bayview, Freedom City July 2nd, Wednesday, 2.45 PM, 2014 The day had begun like most others on a summer day on the American east coast. For Freedom City it had been even more mundane than usual, everything that made the city such a dazzling gem of multi-faceted weirdness lying low as the sun beat down. As the day had veered into afternoon, hopes had slowly strengthened that maybe today, today nothing would happen. The bank tellers at Bayview's biggest Chase branch had begun to relax, smiling in relief as the hours ticked down to closing. They were cheerfully helping the last trickles of patrons before the big late-afternoon rush, chatting idly with each other when the burning men crashed through the roof, landing on the floor in a stream of flaming wreckage. One, covered in something like an astronaut's ">suit but red and emblazoned with a yellow lizard on the shoulders and chest, pointed a square black thing vaguely shaped like a gun at the tellers. "Out." his voice was soft as it crackled over a radio, but icily compelling "Now." "You heard him, gents!" sang out another of the gang, similarly-suited but weaponless save for a flickering heatwave around her "That insurance money won't steal itself! And we don't wanna hurt you, but-" a wave of heat slammed into one of the steel walls as she gestured carelessly with a hand, melting a hole clean through it "-we sure won't cry if we have to!" The other two were silent, the stocky one in a black suit opening their helmet to release a cloud of smoke that drifted up to the ceiling, starting the fire alarms' screaming wail. The last, a spindly figure in vivid yellow, snapped their fingers. To the terrified eyes of the tellers, guards, and patrons, flames seemed to leap from the floor, heading straight for them! From outside things weren't much better. A comet seemed to flash out of the sky and hit the bank, the fire alarms went off and the people inside came charging out, screaming and frantically beating at themselves. It was the kind of sight that made every nearby Freedonian look reflexively up at the sky, and wonder why, just why it always happened here...
  7. June 19, 2014 Waterfront, Freedom City The evening patrol for the three young heroes had gone well - very well indeed. They were all on the rooftop of a closed fish market, watching down below as a small group of gangsters smoked cigarettes, cursed, and waited for their rendezvous. Word on the street was that a big player, maybe even a Crime League member, was going to arrive on the docks tonight to meet with the triad leaders below to discuss an upcoming deal - that meant that a savvy trio of young crime fighters could potentially catch some big fish tonight. Of course, that assumed everyone was going to show up. It was a warm evening, at least by the standards of a New Jersey summer, with a warm breeze blowing in from the sea that made the air humid and slick against spandex uniforms. In their suits and ties below, the triad men didn't seem very happy either - one older man with a short white beard kept looking at his watch, while another with a shaved head was reassuring the others in a voice loud enough to carry up to the roof that "He'll be on time, don't worry, don't worry!", something that he seemed to find quite amusing. It wasn't a normal patrol, that was for sure; the air seemed pregnant with anticipation as dark clouds billowed in the eastern sky, as if a real storm was coming. Of course, if that happened their targets just might get back in their sports cars and head home.
  8. Two Miles From Lake Vostok Antarctica Friday, May 9, 2014 7:52 PM White. White as far as the eye could see. And cold that cut right through to the bone. Ever since he'd come into his powers, Cannonade hadn't exactly felt the weather in quite some time. But it said a lot that, even with his enhanced resilience, this was able to get right at his core. After only a few seconds on the ice, he firmly decided that Antarctica could go screw. He didn't know why he'd expected anything else. He should have known this would happen at some point - join a superteam, see everywhere from Hell to Honolulu. But while he'd usually gotten his more globetrotting assignments courtesy of AEGIS, it had been Edge who'd brought this one to the table. Apparently there was a UNISON research base near Vostok, dedicated to plumbing both the depths of the ancient lake and whatever things might be found in the snow. Cannonade hadn't gotten the full account, but a message had gotten out a few days back. There wasn't enough sensible content to lean one way or another, but the fact that something garbled and messy was coming out of the station could be considered a soft cause for alarm. Which would also explain their guest. Joe was used to the rest of the League, but apparently, the Indian woman had been seconded to Edge's assignment. She was a psychic, apparently, something that left him very conscious about what he was thinking. Her job was to check up on the mental health of the scientists. A place like this could do things to a man... and apparently, there had been rumors of whole expeditions who'd gone around the bend down here. There was a chance it wasn't all isolation... Joe just adjusted his jacket, and kept his eyes on the base. Soon enough, the security team would be out to wave them in. He just had to focus on that...
  9. -Richard Cline, An Oral History of the Terminus Invasion Summer 1993 First National Bank of Lincoln Richard Cline stuck out in the crowd of customers waiting in line for the teller for three reasons - his tapping foot, rolling eyes, and general air of impatience marked him as someone eager to be anywhere else than waiting in line, his white skin and flashy clothes marked him as an outsider among the bank’s mostly working-class customers, and his baseball cap and sunglasses were just a little odd for this early in the morning. The other customers gave him a wide berth, when they weren’t glaring at him - just as planned. It was hot in the bank, but not quite hot enough for them to run the air - instead the music from the lot across the street gently thrummed in through the open windows. “Cause my heart is beatin’ triple time, yeah!” He did a little dance in place, snapping his fingers to the beat, and winked at a little kid watching him from the row behind. Poor little bastard, stuck in these lines with his boring mundane ‘rents. Maybe we’ll give him something to think about. He slid back and forth on his sneakers as he stood there, brand-new rubber squeaking again and again against the green marble floor. He and Paige hadn’t been back in Freedom City for a while, but they’d kept up their careers in New York and London, and even made the front page in the latter when they’d squared off against Britannia while making off with the Prime Minister’s watch. Maybe we should go to Canada next. Those jerks in True North could be taken down a notch or two. “What are _you_ looking at?” he sneered over his sunglasses at an older man in the business suit before he pulled the shades back up and made a rude face. Stupid old man, thinks he can start something. He yanked his fingers down his vest, snapping it tight, and thought Paige’s way. Baby, once we pawn the jewels, let’s run up to that theater in Queens and see Jurassic Park again. He knew his girl was already in position, getting the crowd in the bank ready for the show of their boring little lives, while he kept everyone’s attention through his confident demeanor and manly swagger. He tapped his pristine white Air Jordans and thought good thoughts about showing Paige a very good time in that darkened theater. Feeling like a T-Rex today! He was thirty years old, he had the best superpowers and the best girl in the world, and they were about to do what they did best - CRIME! Guard’s at the door...checking his watch...think he’s gonna go take a whiz. When he finally got to the front of the line, an eternally frustrating five or six minutes later, Richard pulled off his shades and smiled real big at the middle-aged clerk, flashing his pearly whites. “Honey, I got good news, and I got good news - first, you can take the day off. Even better is -” He jumped up and kicked off, speeding up the room and slowing himself as he did a totally, bodaciously badass flip that landed him on top of the counter. Enjoying the shocked faces of the crowd in that one long, frozen moment, he pulled off his magenta vest, bright red tie, black leather jacket, and white tee, and threw on the black and white jumpsuit that he’d been wearing since he was a teenager. “Fast-Forward and Hologram are here to put a little color in your lives! Everybody get down!”
  10. Deep Space Sitting in the dark of space was the massive swathes of star forming gases glowing the most beautiful blues and purples lit but the very stars they were helped forming. Being light years across the craft that stood on the edge of the nebula seemed tiny, even though it was itself the size of a small city. The stark white hull of the saucer like object looked that it was made of a single flawless piece of ceramic. Inside the craft was a small room the wall being opaque lighting the room with a blue glow from nebula beyond, the room was also filled with cryogenic gases from several pod opening up in the room revealing several Earth heroes groggily woken from an unexpected cryogenic sleep.
  11. GM October 17th, 7:32PM, Farrel's Bar. Her boss, Gerry (short for Geraldine) had told her that a rising star of the Alt-Country scene, a guy who went by John Perdition, was willing to do an interview while in Freedom City. A couple tries, and it hadn't worked out with the guys who normally covered those kinds of artists. Fortunately she was available. Coincidence. Or something like that. The location for the meeting was a simple bar known for it's open mics. Tonight was a little special, and John (a guy with a label deal) was just finishing up his couple songs, singing and plucking a banjo, covering material from more well known artists, ending with a song from a prisoner's perspective. He looked all long, hard, and dusty roads. His voice sounded like an authority when the topics veered to being half-passed out in crap motel rooms on painkiller binges, and having to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun on his hungover. There was some applause as he took his banjo and walked back to his seat (this place generally fit more the 'introspective college type,' less so a tattooed ex-con who seemed at home with making a whole bunch of middle class folk more than a little on edge), wearing a worn in and patched flannel shirt and jeans. He set about fixing the cantankerous tuning of the banjo.
  12. "Typical. Truly typical." Sekhmet's resigned sigh was largely lost behind a rattling boom as the concrete below her feet was struck by an arcing fireball the size of a small electric car and exploded violently. The goddess recovered with feline grace and continued her brisk pace alongside the more winded Set as they fled. "Aye, well, mayhap you could reserve your breath for running, oh Lady of Slaughter," the godling suggested as he hastily ducked under the chunk of metal propelled towards his head when a nearby fire hydrant was cleaved in half by a searing red laser beam. The taller Heliopolian did not look quite so concerned. "Too match pace with thee? Hardly necessary, liesmith," she assured him, though her stride quickened slightly after she glanced over her shoulder at their pursuers. "Methinks a training regimen may be in order." "I've considered hitting the gym," Set admitted, strain ruining the conversational tone he was attempting. "Don't want to bulk up, of course..." "Hardly seems a danger." "My, someone tis feeling catty today." "Tis another who should work on new jibes." "For once, I did not intend that as wordplaaayiie!" Another fireball sent a somewhat singed godling tumbling in an undignified tangle of limbs before he could scramble against the cement and back onto his feet. "I am now prepared to admit that assistance would not be remiss!" With a flat snort, Sekhmet reached down and picked Set up by the back of his neck, giving him a chance to find his stride again without losing too much of their head start. "Truly, I am shocked. The mortal Freedom League, then, or proven allies such as the water magister." "Eh? Nay!" Set objected crossly, pumping his arms with renewed vigour as he sprinted. "Think of the embarrassment, Sekhmet! I would have none who think reasonably well of me- ah, us to bear witness. ...ah! Inspiration!" Snapping his fingers, the godling abruptly turned on his heel heading toward an alleyway. "Keep our new friends occupied momentarily, oh Mistress of Dread!" With that, he dove into a shadow behind a dumpster and disappeared. "Of all the-- Set! Set! SEEEEET!" * * * * * On the well tended campus of Claremont Academy, a shadow passed over the relaxing Will Cline as someone approached from behind him, blocking the sun. "Hail, buuuddy!"
  13. GM The private and very spacious residence of Donald Ritchey Southside, Freedom City, New Jersey Monday, June 9th, 2014 7:08 PM Donald Ritchey prided himself as a self made man. Growing up with nothing, he started his own construction company at the tender age of 16. A lack of formal schooling did nothing to stunt his success, as Ritchey offered a level of dedication few competitors could match. As the times changed so too did Ritchey Construction, now named Ritchey and Sons. In the 80s Donald Ritchey sought to provide a better life for his family, getting into bed with questionable elements of Freedom City's organized crime families and one of the first side business that Big Al could count as his territory. The business remained independent enough that even the likes of Augustus Roman couldn't get a stranglehold on it. Which ultimately might have been one of the focal points in Big Al's rise to power after the power vacuum left behind by previously leadership. After forty years of building his construction empire Donald has recently been diagnosed with terminal leukemia. With little time left to live Donald Ritchey has decided to make amends for his prior sins. Agreeing to testify against his many current mob connections. Making the stipulation clear that he would have. The Federal Marshalls tasked with keeping his family safe were assassinated by what could only be described as a squad of ninjas before transport was even feasible, with Ritchey only surviving thanks to the timely assistance arrival of armed police escort. Now the city finds itself scrambling to provide discrete protection for the Ritchey family, before information could get out about the current risk to their key witness in a pending trial against key members of the Driogano family. No amount of discretion prevented information from seeping through. With a few heroes being drawn to Donald Ritchey's sprawling Southside mansion to volunteer their services.
  14. GM Monday 12th August, 2013 Freedom City Airport..late morning... Agent Cord checked his watch, standing by the small single prop plane in the airport. UNISON was not the best resources agency in the world, or the States, but it could stretch to chartering the flight to Canada. Not that it would, by his estimation, be a particularly easy or comfortable ride. He was a man of slim and slightly short build, probably in his early forties, but still fit. He was a totally average black suit, a totally average white short, and a totally average black tie. His brown hair was cut short, and his features rather unremarkable. His eyes were hidden behind some mirror shades. In his left hand, an unremarkable suitcase. The observant would, perhaps, notice a small bulge in his left armpit. Agent Cord didn't really approved of using minors in UNISON's operations, but there was no doubt from the resume. The Blue Jay character had some particular skill sets they could use right now. Her history had embedded her with unparalleled tracking skills. A few other specialists in the world would come close, he judged, but they were both expensive to hire, and would not necessarily have Blue Jay's other skills. He wasn't expecting trouble, but on the other hand, he was paid to expect the unexpected.
  15. GM 8.25 PM, March 4, Tuesday, 2014. Waterside Bayview, corner of McCulloh & Grant Freedom City's three-hundred and eighty-third year had slid into its third month without much incident. The few rumbles in January and February had been largely relegated to within the super-set, the first anniversary of 2013's tragic event had come and gone with somber remembrances, and the world's far-off turmoils seemed especially distant as snow blasted through New Jersey, few things seeming as important as the by now much-loathed storm. But there were always those looking to exploit the misfortune of the innocent, and the icy march of winter did little to deter them. Luckily, there were also those willing to step forward and defend the guiltless, and a little snow didn't stop them either. Polarity, Solvrytter and Nevermore had found a good waiting place on their roof, between two mighty fans whose housing blocked the howling north wind and stood tall enough to catch most of the snow that didn't blow over it, leaving a more or less bare and windless spot. The rooftop business wasn't particularly necessary, most Freedonians and foreigners huddling by without the customary glances up, but tonight was their first one out as a group. That and the area along the river had become a bit of a trouble-spot. Rumors had spread about a gang with unusually advanced technology on the edge of Bayview. There weren't many of them, but their mark, a sleek stylized silver dragon, was spreading quickly, and the scorches on walls and loss of power on streets during their most recent fights with the encroaching Los Diabolos Rojos were making them an increasingly dangerous nuisance. That would have been reason enough for the new generation of supers to be there, but it wasn't the only reason. Headmaster Summers had mentioned at his and Aleksander's last meeting that while self-sufficiency was important, every crime-fighter needed allies. He'd dropped a casual hint about two students Nevermore might want to get to know, and while he didn't openly condone them testing themselves in the real world he did say it would be a shame if evil went unchallenged... They had been waiting almost an hour, and there was still no sign of the Dragons.
  16. GM Friday 7th February Sochi, the Winter Olympics 2014. The air was unseasonably warm in Sochi, casting doubts upon the logistics of the game, but spare snow had been stored, and was being hauled to the slopes. The mood was reasonably bouyant, with spectators both domestic and international looking forward to the herculean efforts of the olympians. Of course, the tourist industry was in full swing, with every type of food and drink being plied, and a rain of tourist tat to take home, place in the back of a cupboard, and stay there unseen for decades. There was a heavy and intimidating police presence, thanks to terrorists threats. And, some might say, to the possibility of demonstrations against the Russian governments policies over homosexuality. There was to be no marring of the festivities with contreversy, at least as far as the officialdom was concerned. One police officer was on edge. Sergeant K was smoking heavily. His revolver was hidden from view, under his armpit, but he always found it uncomfortable. Plain clothes policing in Russia could be a nerve wracking business. Shoulda brought a shotgun...he said to himself, between puffs, thinking of his favourite American film. He had good reason to be nervous too, given what he had found out. There was sweat on his forehead, despite the cool air. What he needed was someone to help him, and get him the hell out of Russia. An american tourist, well connected, plenty of money, and capable. He had considered approaching the American athletes, but they were too close to the problem, he judged. One wrong word, and boom... A palpatation in his chest. He visibly jumped at the thought...
  17. Ari

    Go-Time(IC)

    GM 12.45 PM, 1st of May, 2014, Liberty Park, Liberty Perk The harsh winter hadn't yet given up its hold on the west Atlantic. There were still occasional snowfalls, and the air was chillier than any mid-spring noon had any right to be. The clouds reigned over Freedom City. Still, that made things like steaming-hot coffee all the better. One of the reasons Mega Howell had been invited to the busy coffee shop. The other was the man who had invited her there, Freedom City's Director of the American Elite Government Intervention Service, Stewart Bonham. His chair tipped back downright perilously, a mug filled with one of the shop's better blends in hand, and gazing at the bustling streets and busy park like a born sovereign, the handsome, cheerful Chief Administrator was nobody's idea of a secret agent. Dressed in a snug blue sweater and scuffed jeans with a Blades baseball cap over his curly brown hair, he looked more like a off-duty athlete than a government spy and soldier. "It's great to see the people you're fighting for, Velocity, catch a glimpse of the lives that need saving. Gives you some perspective, you know?" tossing back a mouthful of the rich liquid, he savored the taste with closed eyes. "That, and it's safer. People see us talkin...well, they won't think it's business." Regarding a passing schnauzer on a leash, and the old woman coaxing it along the cold sidewalk, Stewart added "You didn't have to come, so I'm encouraged you did. Tell me," he glanced up at the famed speedster and superheroine across the table from him, his normally bright blue eyes crinkling a little against the sun blazing between the clouds "If I told you 'AEGIS needs your help with a doomsday cult'...what would you say?"
  18. July 27, 2014 HIT Baseball Field You might think that a bunch of nerds wouldn't be very good at playing softball - but Hanover Institute of Technology attracts all kinds of students! This is a special game between HIT's mighty hurlers, the Lady Myrmidons, and their arch-rivals West River Technical College, home of the Fighting Fisherwomen. All proceeds for the game will go to build a Korean War monument halfway between Toms River and Freedom City, a long-neglected memorial to New Jersey's soldiers who fought in the 'forgotten war' from 1950 to 1953. With the game being played on the 61st anniversary of the armistice that marked the end of the Korean War, the bleachers and grassy stretches by the field are packed with veterans, their families, and active-duty personnel from Lonely Point and other nearby facilities. It's a hot day but the soda is cold and the peanuts are salty, and as the game reaches the end of the ninth inning, it's clear it's going to be a nail-biter: the Myrmidons are at-bat and down by one with two outs, but there are players on the base and Yoder, the stalwart West River hurler who has pitched a nearly perfect game, is starting to flag. Can she hold off a hit as de la Cruz, the towering young woman from the West End with the mighty arm, begins to take the field? Her screaming fans from West River hope so but the hometown crowd, whipped up to a fever pitch by the Lady Myrmidons and their pep squad, have the hometown crowd on their feet and cheering on their champion. This is going to be a real fight.
  19. August 1, 2014 8 AM A million stories in the naked city - and this one begins with lightning. The terrible storm had come up fast, nearly swamping the naval base at the Point and forcing the sailors there to take shelter against what seemed to be a terrible hurricane - but one localized to within a few square miles at the very tip of the peninsula. This was no natural storm - no surprise in Freedom City! A normal part of town might simply have called in the Freedom League, but as usual the military preferred to handle its own problems. As naval personnel and AEGIS agents combed the streets of the small community of base families that lived nearby the facility, the storm raged on overhead - spectacular bolts of lightning harmlessly crackling through the sky that might have been dismissed by the occasionally jaded Freedom City public - but that rang like a bell to those with a particular connection to the storm. Something was wrong in the skies over Freedom - something was very wrong indeed.
  20. March 5, 2014 Freedom City "The entire garrison? You are absolutely certain?" Alone in the small, cramped office that was all he had in Freedom City, Comrade Frost closed his eyes as he held his cellphone to his ear. "All right. All right, I will be there within twenty-four hours. Yes, with superpowered associates." At his interrogator's question, Frost simply laughed bitterly, remembering what he'd seen in the reports sent his way from Bukhara, as well as what he'd seen on the news from Moscow. "No, not the Freedom League. No, we will need rather different help for _this_ threat..." For all that he'd had to wheedle his office space and his first-level access to the League, the effort paid for itself again and again every day, as now when Frost used the League's access to make a few clandestine phone calls. And so it was that with the help of a few borrowed phone numbers, he managed to have a message sent to Ghost Girl and Revenant, albeit the first through a third party. CRISIS OF THE DEAD. MEET ME IN FREEDOM HALL TONIGHT AT SUNSET. -COMRADE FROST At the appointed hour, Frost was sitting in the small meeting room he'd set aside for the occasion, drinking from a large cup of nearly-boiling hot coffee as he awaited his guests - allies in what promised to be a difficult situation to come.
  21. August 7th, 10:34PM A lot of things happen in this city. A lot of bad things. A lot of good things. Perhaps Mali would reflect on them later, but right now she was giving a knee to the gut of a drug peddler that would, perhaps, adjust the tides of the earth itself. Lifted off his feet from the strength of the blow, he collapsed in a heap, gasping and clutching at his midsection, his eyes threatening to bulge out of the eye sockets as he groaned. In her defense, he had pulled a gun on her. Technically her response was nonlethal, even if he didn't believe it at the moment. Others were running from this deal. It was a new hip drug on the streets. Well it would be, if tonight had gone anywhere. Still they were scrambling to load up some of the drugs into a panel van. Because of course there was a panel van. With her sharpened senses she could tell there was less than a handful of men still mobile, the two at her feet were taken out of the fight decisively.
  22. March 3rd, 2014, late evening The air of Freedom City had the crisp snap taken out of by this time of year, but was still cool, especially at night. Around Greenback, with its crumbling disused warehouses and rusted disused traintracks, it had a certain dusty quality to it. And every so often, Noemi came across the odours of the homeless, a sharp pang of an impromptu latrine. Greenback was home to a number of Freedom Cities homeless. The old bricks, mortar, steel, and wood providing shelter at the risk of a collapsed roof. Every now and again she could a fire in the distance, as the vagrants huddled around to keep warm and tell stories. Safehouse detected. Proceed to building "Grin and Bear It". She didn't hear the words. She saw them. A print out only she could see, the white letters appearing before her. Inside her head there resided a computer. "Slave" it was called, but she wondered exactly to whom it was enslaved. Her eyes were not her own. Bright green and pretty they may have been, but completely artificial. Through them, the text of Slave was printed. She just thanked the fates that the Soviet scientists who designed Slave and put it in her chose text rather than a voice. "Grin and Bear it" must have been an old Russian trading shop, or warehouse. It was half derelict now, with a patchwork roof and big holes where bricks had caved in. She approached cautiously. It was dark, but her eyes could see well enough by starlight. Inside, Grin and Bear it was rotted and green. She saw a number of old Russian tourist tat, such as Polka Dolls and a number of tattered doll Bears with a fierce grin. The vodka bottles had been pillaged and consumed decades ago, no doubt but alcoholic scavengers. A bottle of vodka would keep the cold out for a day, maybe two. She saw embers, still warm, glowing in one corner. Who was it? As she walked closer, she heard the rustling of blankets and trash...
  23. GM 28th February, the Mid-Atlantic...dawn... The sun was rising through partial cloud, little more than a glow in the horizon, casting deep orange shades through the sky. Deep orange, and red. Red sky in the morning....shepherds warning... The Cruise Ship Magnificent was not the biggest or most luxurious cruise ship on the sea, but it was certainly within spitting distance of it. A crew of eighty, a passenger roster of three hundred. Fine food, fine wine, and mediocre entertainment, it was a ship that looked good, catered well, and charged high. And it was dead in the water. Captain Pike trotted out the mayday message again. He was a tall, man, forty five, with a good head of carefully groomed hair, clean shaven, and trim build. Only his eyes let him down as a poster boy - set close together, small, squirrel like. He was a veteran of the sea, but tired, cynical, pondering what to do with his remaining years after a failed marriage. His experiences today would class as new and exciting, he felt. But scary, yes, scary. That was the thing. Frightening him and the ships inhabitants to the bone. "Mayday Mayday! Ship adrift, no power. Approach with caution! Ghosts aboard!" went the message. He didn't honestly know what else to say. Maybe they wouldn't believe him, maybe they would. He wondered what would be worse. The message did indeed sail through the air. And was received by Freedom City, a coastgaurd who perhaps was less incredulous at the spooky claim. A Coast guard that felt, given the unusual nature of the mayday, an unusual response was needed... ...the aquatic heroes of Freedom City!
  24. Ari

    Lucky Shot(IC)

    A week after Easter, 2014, in an alley somewhere in the western Fens... "It's over." 'Another day of this, lungs burning, legs shaking...I'm in great shape, but it's never enough. And this,' he risked a moment's glance away from the desperate-eyed young man in the baggy clothes holding a gun to the alley around them 'must be the fifth time this month I've chased someone here. Or maybe it isn't, perhaps I am merely losing my mind after years of this with nothing to show for it.' "This will solve nothing, you know." Turning back to his quarry, the King of Suits kept his eyes on the general outline of...Carl? It was probably Carl. The important thing was not to let him fire without knowing where that bullet was headed. "Where will you be in a month? Can you even go that long, Carl, before something happens? And then what about Sherrie? What about your son? Is this what they need?" Nobody who fought crime for a hobby stayed careless around guns, unless they really didn't need to. In the wrong hands they were modern talismans of destruction and fear, and even in the hands of the just they could wreak horrors. Taking a deep breath, the King of Suits began to approach the man. Very slowly. "Carl, listen to me. This can not go on. The people who have you trafficking, will they just let you stay like this? They will want you deeper and deeper in their debt. They want to have power over you, but I can help you escape them. It is my duty to protect everyone in this city, Carl, I am not your enemy. Now," he smiled a little "could you put the gun away? Please?"
  25. GM Saturday night, 2nd August... The High Steaks was a sleek, upper crust joint, even amongst the casinos that it loitered in. It was not, technically, a casino. Its lower level was one of the finest eateries in Freedom City, new, fresh, modern with a classical twist. Or classic with a modern twist. Its steaks were the finest in the City, perhaps the country, Perhaps even the world. Expensive as that was, it was dwarfed by the real money. Overlooking the dining area was the top table, where the finest food was eaten, the finest wine drunk, and the most exclusive poker table in the City stood. Millions were lost, millions were won. Tears were cried, and joy was sung. The balcony of the top table stood over the high steaks, and had a view over the city. THe High Steaks was a tall glass building. A few years back, it had been home to a Vampire Attack although nobody really knew if this was a legend, a myth, or the truth. It seemed the myth had done business no harm, anyway. The High Steaks fed on anxiety and excitement. And tonight was the grand prize. Nobody knew what the prize was, for sure, although gossip flew this way and that. Whatever it was, some big guns had arrived for the game. The rules were simple: Winner takes the prize, and the seller took all the money that was brought to the table. The more money you brought, the more chance you had of winning. And some major organisations and wealthy individuals had brought a lot of money...
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