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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.

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.

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.

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...

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!

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?"

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...

Set, God of Awesome @readySETgoWhat ho faithful followers! Spy you any unrighteous badness for Set to practice pugilism upon? #crowdsorcery #heroics Obsidian Nighttalon @charizardking@readySETgo All is quiet in Port Regal, hero, but the night is still young! We remain vigilant. #crowdsorcery #nightwatch Peter Benjamin @jamminpeteAnybody know if @readySETgo is for real? If he is, nothing to report in Hanover, I guess. #fake? #overhanover Queen Nefertiti @setsgurl5492@readySETgo "What ho faithful followers!" The ho would tote be @setzgirl1337 #burn Jeralie Sena @jerajerajeraAshton is fine, too. Totally doing a class project on crowd sourcing, this is so smart! #crowdsorcery Nile Princess @setzgirl1337@setsgurl5492 Whatever Hefertiti, y u even trying to start something? Ur not even big in the fandom #poseur #whatever John Cannes @mractivist@setsgurl5492 @setzgirl1337 So a guy can't even use medieval talk now without it being an insult? So a double standard. #misandry "Intolerable prattle!" Sekhmet growled in abject frustration as she turned from reading over Set's shoulder to pace aggravatedly across their shared apartment in the Cline Building. The goddess dragged a hand over her face, momentarily pulling lips back from pronounced canines as she grimaced. "Thou cannot possibly believe there to be value in this stream of inane mortal chirping." "Tweeting, dear Lady of Slaughter," the red haired godling corrected, sitting crosslegged atop the couch and tapping away at his tablet as he carefully chose a reply, "and by the sound of things, someone needs to check her divine privilege. You look upon the modern prayer! How better to know where we be needed?" With a distinctly feline sound of annoyance, Sekhmet crossed her bare arms over the front of her shendyt robe. "And so imply thy intent to in fact go to do such honored deeds rather than watching thy trough of words until the journey of glorious Ra's barge is past halfway." She didn't completely understand just what his charge did with his rectangles of lit glass until the small hours of the morning but she doubted it was a good use of even an immortal's time. "Where did thee procure the coin for thine baubles in any case?" "The nights have been slow of late," Set admitted with a cough, still not looking over at the Mistress of Dread. "And said coin was won fairly, through crafty auctioning of commercial forum space upon my social media presence! My Tube of Yous is much beloved and so most lucrative." He made no attempt to hide how pleased he was with himself for having managed to solve their lack of funds and continue to grow his base of followers in one fell swoop. Sekhmet's eyes only narrowed. "Which does not explain from whence thy first bauble came." There was an awkward pause as Set finally glanced over to her. "For a timeless avatar of abstract concepts, you are awfully hung up on linear causality," he noted with a defensive sniff. Knocking her forehead into the half-wall that separated the apartment's main room from the small kitchen, Sekhmet came to a decision. Her duty on the mortal plane may have been to guard Set in both senses of the word but she suspected if she were forced to spend one more night cooped up with the godling and his ego he would not make it through until the morning. "I am going out, liesmith. 'Do not wait up', aye?" "Out? What do you mean out? Without m--?" As Set uncrossed his legs and scrambled to his feet, he was interrupted by a slamming door. Standing nonplussed with his hands on his hips, the godling pursed his lips. "Well. Rude!"

November 20th, 8:56PM, the Waterfront. On a boat. Errant had his legs wrapped around the head and neck of the guy, his hands gripping at the weapon smuggler's arm sharply as he tried to keep the triangle choke going. His teeth gritted under his mask the larger man slammed him against the side of the cabin. He managed to retain his grip, just. 'I can't get the other ones right now, I am a bit busy at the moment.' Trying to bit back the pain as this was happening, they were in two separate sections of the boat, and both had their hands full, he had under estimated the man's strength was paying for it with a ringing headache from being swung about 'If you would just be patient I am doing the best I can.' Of course this was little comfort for Glamazon, as this had been initial little social outing with some others, only for Errant slip away from the group to go after these smugglers. Which was why he had agreed as he had some intel on them being there. And Thaelia, sense action, have been very, very persuasive with the stoic telepath. Not that she knew of the impact she had on him, able to obliterate his normal dry, dispassionate manner of speak into a rambling trail and a noncommittal shrug.

Friday, January 24th, 2014 6:22 AM The sun had yet to rise, but Eliza Oxum was already in the shower, preparing for the school day. She knew she was supposed to get out quickly - the hot water had been on the fritz lately, so much that she'd taken to a cold shower or two (then again, unlike her mom, she didn't really feel the cold). But on a day like this, with the weekend just around the corner, she felt like indulging a little. "...let it goooo, I am one with the wind and sky, let it goooo, let it goooo..." A knock at the door cut her off. "Eliza," came her mother's voice, "are you ever gonna get sick of that song?" "Sorry, Mom! Kinda speaks to me!" "That makes one of us. Dear, I wouldn't rush you, but I gotta get to work soon, and --" "Two minutes! Just let me do my hair!" Eliza's mom worked down by the Boardwalk in a rented store front as a palmister. It was a "breakout" space that allowed her to service clients when the winter weather meant a general downturn in Boardwalk audiences. But in the past few days, Freedom had been unseasonably warm, and the forecast promised clear skies today, so there was talk of going back to the Boardwalk. After putting her ablutions to rest, Eliza turned off the water and got ready to finish things up. She walked to the mirror when she saw the ghost of movement through the fogged-up window. She brushed aside the fog -- only to see curtains of snow falling from darkened skies. It was already piled up an inch, and didn't seem to be quitting. "Mom? Think you might be working from the office today..."

July 1, 2014 Midnight Greenbank Steve closed his phone, put it in the glove compartment of his HAX-issued car, and stepped out onto the street. The sightings on the streets of Greenbank had been dismissed as hoaxes, or perhaps a publicity stunt for one of the many stories told on Earth-Prime that he did not understand. At least at first. A group of young people, coming out of a store that sold picture books like those that had taught Steve how to read many years earlier, had seen representatives of some of their favorite fictional characters scuttling into the sewers, katanas and other martial weapons gleaming in the light. And then another sighting, this time of Sub-Terrans, and then another of the long-dead Conqueror Worm. The sightings all had something in common - they were all of beings that lived underground, all of them glimpsed on the surface before immediately disappearing below. It wasn't the sort of situation that got the attention of the Freedom League - after all, the only real emergency had been the HAX car that had nearly been run off the road by a startled driver after a surprise appearance of the Conqueror Worm in the middle of the street. The only people who had been put off by it were the homeless population of Greenbank and the other areas where the sightings of the "Underground" had taken place. But Steve was not a man to turn away from a crisis, even an exceptionally humble one. Transforming into Caradoc, he reached down and used his sword to open the panel, no, the manhole, that would give him access to the sewers below. Holding the manhole cover in one hand, he activated his jets and slowly flew down until he reached the sewer pipe itself, where a large walkway allowed for significant access even for a man-sized figure like himself. He had thought about inviting Miss Americana along on this expedition, but as a cockroach scuttled by, he decided this sort of mission was not one Gina would have favored.

GM Vector November 28th, 2013, 12.04AM, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia Sounding like a gurgling throat, the black waves beat and crashed against the dock. Their motion and power kept the small ship constantly moving despite thick lines mooring it to the heavy concrete and steel. The crew aboard it were crouched against the gunwales, watching the narrow road that quickly vanished into darkness until the main dock lights glared in a cacophony of hellish orange, occasionally shining on a truck rumbling past. Each time one passed by, they visibly tensed, only to relax as it disappeared. Then one turned. It was unmarked, save for a simple, generic logo on the sides proclaiming that it worked for one of the smaller shipping companies out of Gold Coast. It rumbled to a halt before the pier, and the back door swung open to disgorge several heavily-built men who looked about as nervous as the men on the boat, who scrambled to assist with loading long, heavy boxes from the boat into the truck. The driver remained in the cabin, but Vector could see that his eyes were wide behind the balaclava, and his knuckles were white on the wheel. With a dull thud one of the boxes fell from hands that were slick with sweat, and every last man there froze. As one they turned to look at the crate, and sagged with relief. Then glared at the one who had dropped it. "S-sorry" mumbled the man, looking askance as he reshouldered his burden "I just...not used to this stuff, won't happen again" "It better not" snapped a man thinner and more terrified than the rest who seemed to be in charge "None of us wanna get turned into dog food 'cause ya got nervous!" The unloading hurried along, everyone there desperately hoping they could finish their work quickly enough not to be seen first... Graft November 27th, 2013, 8.04AM, Waterfront, Freedom City, USA Tyrone had started hearing about the shipments only a couple of days ago. It had seemed like a normal, generic kind of freight truck that bustled about the metropolis until some of his patients had opened it, and decided to try and steal one of the boxes. Luckily they had survived the strange explosion with his help. Their muddled memory of the event had been light on a lot of details, but their description of the truck meant Graft recognized it at once when he saw it. Or at least one eerily like it. There hadn't been any companies registered with the brand emblazoned on the side(a red circle with a lightning bolt through the center), and the warehouse it stopped at had obviously not been properly used in the last decade, at the least. Rust hung on the main door as it creaked open, and the windows were cracked. Sure were a lot of very fit, very edgy-looking young men though. And the elongated bulges in their winter coats did nothing to make them suspicious. Stormbreaker November 27th, 2013, 8.04AM, Skies above the Waterfront, Freedom City, USA "Captain, ladyship!" barked the voice of Age's Lost's science officer, their multi-faceted eyes gleaming in the light of several data readouts on the bridge "I've got some kind of unusual energy signature, from the hyplothadrooga scanners it appears to follow the main wavelength associated with...Terminus radiation. Odd. A significant cluster of the energy sources is directly inside this structure." spindly fingers brought up a crisp picture of one of the innumerable warehouses far below. A large red rectangle pulsed in the center. "Shall we investigate, captain Silvia? I believe this is very atypical for Earth technology." the science officer's face nearly shone with hopeful curiosity.

June 4th 2014, Freedom City Sewers Sewers are generally considered unpleasant, unnapealing places. It's just a fact. They smell, they are dirty and they are dark. However, to some these dark unnapealing places can constitute a refuge form the outside world. In this case, they are the refuge against the rays of the sun for time-travelling vampire, Bloodline. Having cut himself off the outside world. A world he simply didn't and couldn't understand. No matter how better this world seemed, no matter how much it seemed like everything he had fought for, he couldn't bring himself to become part of it. Now that his timeline was less and less a reality, he was the only part of it that still existed. Finding a place to sit down, Bloodline rummaged through a pouch on his belt, taking out a syringe. Briefly, he paused, examining it even if it was completely familliar to him. He needed the serum contained within that syringe, or else his vampiric nature would re-assert itself and he would hunger for blood. "Last shot." he said out loud, to himself and perhaps the rats scurrying around him. "Damn it..." then said the man, tossing his blaster in frustration. The large weapon made a racket, which scared the rats, as it impacted the wall. Reluctantly, he then injected the serum into his body. As always, it was an unpleasant experience and he had to hold back a few screams of pain. Alone in a dark sewer, his mind wandered back to a future that perhaps no longer existed...

GM An abandoned hotel on lantern Hill, Freedom City, Earth 2014, June 12th, 12.02 PM It had started small, like most problems do. Something that caught the eye, but easily dismissed as a trick of the light, hazy memory, or the work of an over-active imagination. Then it got bigger, more clear, harder to ignore. Maybe window shivered like rubber, someone's faced changed in the flicker of a second, something you knew you'd seen, maybe you heard the asphalt speak to you. That was when the first suspicions arose. Then Eldrich appeared, in full view of the public, warning the world about an encroaching, overpowering evil that needed to be destroyed He swore to uphold his duty as Master Mage and die, if necessary, to save all. Gathering a band of other heroes, he and they departed to battle the new threat. That was a month ago. But the inklings didn't stop. They grew. They weren't frequent, and almost none could detect them, but those who beheld had no doubts any more that something was very wrong. Now, three of bustling Freedom City's heroes have gathered in a secluded place, a broken-down old hotel on the far side of stately and severe Lantern Hill, to discuss their discoveries and determine what, if anything, can be done about this mystery,

GM Meanwhile...below the Thames...in the Haven... The Haven was being tidied, swept, and cleaned. A small horde of tech staff, security forces, and agents were searching it with careful detail. Amongst them, Professor Blackpool, Osprey, and Dr Jasmine Benoit, otherwise known as Catalyst. And a new face, Captain Eileen Rose. She was a woman of average height, with short cropped blonde hair and a handsome face, marred by a scar down one side of her face. She had the body of a muscular snake, all coiled and energetic. Her military fatigues were littered with striped and awards. Captain Rose was simply one of the best the Military had. That was before the Osprey formula had been tried on her. Admittedly at much much lower doses. The only visible sign was the eyes. Black, black and wide. Avian eyes. Not much escaped those eyes, sharp as an eagles. Professor Blackpool had taken them to the Haven's medical laboratories. "This place is a gold mine" he explained. "The Haven had access to all of the Ministries research, including the Osprey formula. But here, here they did so much more! The Osprey formula is only the beginning! You see, its highly unstable..very risky...it can cause..." Captain Rose gave a glare at him with her inhuman eyes. "...yes, well. Its unstable. In essence, it can reset DNA, you see. Stabilise any mutations or deteriorations. Those poor souls that the Haven reactivated? those cyborgs? guess what...they had been stuffed full of the Osprey formula! With the Haven back on line, we may be able to perfect it!"

GM January 25th, 11.45 AM, Saturday, 2014, A.S.T.R.O. Labs, Reception Hall The unveiling of the Nucleic Reorganization Field Emitter was a lot more enthusiastic than the name would have suggested. But then, just about any public revelation from the busy corner of super-science usually heralded something extraordinary, whether it was some miraculous way to purify polluted water, direct the growth of plant-life or just a simple fusion-powered jetpack, and a clear sign that the world was changing all around the world, starting right there in Freedom City. The reception hall of the austere modern-style building thronged with those who had asked or been asked to attend, mostly businessmen and businesswoman, entrepreneurs, news-anchors and reporters. Over the Labs' main doors a broad banner was unfurled, those in the know glancing up at its familiar sleek edging and art-deco typeface with a smile of recognition, and at the words "A Gift to Humanity...Revealed!". The stairs outside for several steps were packed as well, and those unfortunate enough to be caught out in the cold shivered in thick coats and sipped gratefully at hot drinks while several of the more news-hungry guests performed impromptu interviews. Those inside had something very different to think about. "Yes, as you can see, ladies and gentlemen" said the trim, needle-like Prof. M. Cavesson, all crisp courtesy behind his thin glasses and snowy-white bread that matched his stark white suit, his soft, rolling voice reaching the entire front hall packed with unusually patient and calm reporters, cameraman and photographers, all of whom were relieved and a little smug that they didn't have to stand out in the cold waiting for "the applications of the Emitter are as boundless as they are humanitarian. With this, we can clean up radiation leak from nuclear reactors, like the prototype used in the after-effects of the Fukushima catastrophe in 2011, making the land and, air and water safe for human life within weeks and months rather than milennia. It doesn't stop there, either," he added, real excitement straining against his professionally-level tone "we are, ladies and gentlemen, looking at a real chance of reversing the effects of zero-gravity sickness, the horrendous effects of prions in the brain, maybe even, once we've perfected the reorganization process on living material, recover flesh lost to leprosy before that disease's total eradication!" The assembled newshounds and high-profile visitors clapped with polite enthusiasm, a few whistles ringing out from the back rows, but the eager grins on nearly every face showed that the sentiment was far from false. Swelling with pride, Cavesson stepped back and swung open the doors to the main floor, re-purposed especially for the day's revelation. Hanging from the ceiling's many arching steel beams were red, blue and gold banners celebrating the names of several patrons(including Daedalus) and companies(including Grant Conglomerate and the Rhoseus Corporation). Around the room were a series of blackboards crammed with equations and artistic depictions of molecules being recombined and reconfigured, while standing beside them were around a dozen nervous-looking lab technicians, many of whom stiffened in mild panic at the sudden invasion. In contrast to the hubbub surrounding it, the Nucleic Reorganization Field Emitter was a very refined-looking instrument, a tall pedestal under the generous Main Hall skylight bearing the apparatus of three slender blue rods as long as a full-grown man attached at their summit to a curved dish like a satellite. "This, I tell you," said Prof. Cavesson with a grin "heralds a brighter tomorrow! With it, why, we might even be able to permanently cure poor souls like Adam Ward, so-called Gamma 'the Atom-Smasher', or drain the poisonous radiation from Hiroshima Shadow..." As he spoke a gaggle of students from universities a few miles away to across the Atlantic piled in, some excitedly hurrying off to interrogate a like mind in a freshly-ironed lab coat, others remaining in gaggles to commiserate over how much of a pain the trip was. There were, of course, exceptions. And a few unexpected eyes...

June 1, 2014 Urgent phone messages were nothing new for Midnight Manor, even those that arrived at an hour of the day where no decent person would be awake. Was there crime afoot in the darkest corners of the city? Or more commonly, a cosmic threat like those that the newest holder of the Midnight legacy and his partner had so often battled? Not today. For once, the late night phone call had been for Erin. "Ms. White? This is Thomas Cleary, I'm the night supervisor here at Project Freedom. I'm calling you because Jessie White has had an incident with another inmate. We've placed her in medical isolation for now - but she's not communicating. we're hoping you may be able to help us figure out what happened."

GM Friday, November 15th, 2013 Southside 10:32 PM The cool November air felt like an early greeting from the forthcoming winter. The waxing gibbous moon overlooking the dark sky was difficult to make out under the cover of a menagerie of thick clouds. If the effulgent lights reflecting from the casinos and various businesses North of the banks of the South River were a symbol of change and prosperity. Then the rigid buildings that have supported multiple generations of families South of that very same river represented perseverance and longevity like nowhere else. Only in the Southside did wealth and poverty truly find themselves standing side by side. With many of the area's affluent neighborhoods paired with those neighborhoods unfortunate to be stricken with rampant crime and misfortune. Outwardly one could be excused for thinking the Southside hasn't changed at all in decades. The mob's influence was as strong as ever, and the perpetual corruption continued to counteract any efforts to improve the situation. But the denizens of the Southside knew better. The heroic efforts of costumed crimefighters who patrolled the area continued to make their streets safer every day providing a magnitude of comfort for those who needed it. And fear for those who needed that even more. Rumours of a new underground designer drug operation had been brewing in the air for days now. There has even been talk of shipments leaving Port Regal for international waters. The distribution has led to increased gang activity as of late with talk of the occasional group of thugs loading up and starting a commotion in unsuspecting areas of the community. Despite all the publicity not a single trace of the source of the drugs distribution could be found. The situation was slowly turning the district into a volatile hotbed for crime and chaos, more so than usual.

"Ah there you are. Devil to find. Pleasure to see!" No matter how long he stayed in Freedom City, Lord Steam continued to dress like the most outlandish fop. And somehow just pulled it off. He got stares wherever he went, and was quite happy to sign photographs. He passed himself off as a British Detective and Aristocrat who fancied a life in Freedom City. His role as inter-dimensional diplomat was less well known. It was easy enough to contact Carrie aka Silhouette. Her Medal of Valour doubled up as a radio receiver for Steam, and his home dimension to contact her, and as fate would have it, pay her well for her services as their best freelance agent. The Summer was hot, hot, but Lord Steam had merely rolled up his starched shirt and kept his top hat on to field the rays of the sun. It was Freedom City Park and he had arranged to meet Earth Victoriana's number one agent there.

GM Caniff St., Riverside, Freedom City 11.45AM, September 7th, Saturday, 2013 "So yeah, if we schedule this for Monday, we can-ohmyGOOOOD!" Charlize Fellows, temporary manager for the acts at Hot Licks, dropped the papers she had been sorting through in the mad jump away from the window. Standing and trembling, a nerveless hand pointed out the offending portal, she stammered out to the older woman she'd just been talking to "S-s-snake! Mz. Stone, there's a giant snake outside!" A casual glance outside quickly proved that while remarkably easy to startle for a lifelong Freedonian, she was no liar. A massive ebon-scaled snake was, in fact, seeping from a jagged black tear in thin air down the street, turning a shovel-shaped head this way and that as its black tongue slid in and out experimentally. It ignored the shocked and panicky people rushing away from it yelling in horror, seeming instead to be looking for something. "W-what should we do Annice?" whispered Charlize as if the snake could hear her "Get out the back door?" Suddenly the pitch-black reptile swerved, and one enormous eye looked straight at the singer. 'You cannot hide, lighted one' shouted the distant voice 'Come, and fight'

GM Café Quantique, Bayview, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, January 11, 2014 6:30 PM Café Quantique is fairly small and compact. Operating as a combination bookstore and coffee shop, the floor is decked out with all manner of horror, supernatural, romance, and thriller novels stocked in the shelves. The floors are a dark, heavy oak, with matching wood tiling to give the place an archaic feel to it. An aged marble counter extends through part of the back, where the coffee is served up. The shop's ambience is tied together with lighthearted music playing throughout the establishment and a beautiful view of the waterfront. The Cafe was one that often found itself the home of a many a teen visitor being so near to the prestigious Claremont Academy. It's affluent location also brought in the occasional college student or would be writer. And right now it had two of those very same Claremont teens sitting inside. One would be hard pressed to tell the two teens had only hours ago finished a knockdown drag down brawl. A brawl that was originally supposed to be a capture the flag training exercise. An exercise in which their simmering tension came to a boil. Luckily aside from the staff there the cafe was unusually empty at the moment. Which meant as long as they didn't shout their conversation could be an open dialogue. After enough time had passed Thaelia had seen to it to invite Cho Paige Lee out. Seeking to mend fences seeing as it wasn't a school night. With the muscular girls hitting up the french styled cafe at the Atlantean royal's insistence.

May 29th, 2014 10:30am Rennamex research lab; A Grant Conglomerate's subsidiary The building at the listed address was rather unassuming, with the exception of the security checkpoint at the main gate. Besides the sign plastered on the front of the building, there was little to differentiate it from many of the other industrial office buildings in the area. It was relatively small, compared to its peers, at only 5 or 6 stories. It was tall, blocky and corporate, with next to no aesthetic qualities. The main lobby did very little to dissuade this feel. There was a receptionist behind a desk, that blocked them off from the rest of the lobby, the only way to enter was from a door on the other side of the desk, and like the three other doors in the lobby, required a keycard to access. At least two security cameras surveyed the scene. There was a small waiting area with a handful of chairs, and a coffee table with a few scientific periodicals and local newspapers. The only interesting bit was the scientist in a lab coat practically bouncing off the walls, only pausing long enough to look out the window into the parking lot. “They aren't due for another 10 minutes Dr. Steel. I can page you when they arrive.†said the exasperated secretary to the young scientist. “Not gonna happen Randy.†replied Cassandra shaking her head frantically. “They're a 16 year old kid with oblivion running in their veins. They're going to be scared coming here, and I have to put them at ease. Besides think of all the science! Do you know what Terminus exposure normally does to the body? Trick question! You don't, because nobody does, and I get to try to find out! Oh this should be fascinating!â€

GM Lantern Hill, 537 Herge St. 5.06AM, Thursday, 10th October, 2013 The black knight had seemed like bad news from the start. At first it had just been Morgan's contacts in the realm of spirits earlier that week, mentioning some change in Avalon that wasn't to everyone's liking, some new contender who was trying to shake things up. Such usually raised hell for a few months then withdrew from the world stage, but this one had persisted. Even a few of the lesser Fair Folk lords and ladies gathered to their cause. Then the Order sensed a surge of power in places once associated with vanished Camelot, a surge that had erupted in a magical torrent and then flung itself across the ocean like a hunting hound. The warning they had sent to their agent Blodeuwedd in the States had been vague enough but charged with unease. Watch for someone using the old ways. So when the black knight emerged full-blown on the scene, bursting from the South River to chase down a stolen car on his magnificent black mare in the Boardwalk, it had seemed at once suspicious and too much of a coincidence to be right. At first the strange chevalier's silence was a note against him, his refusal to speak and deft avoidance of even the lightest contact with other heroes or the press something troubling. Then as he had started doing more regular heroic work, for a time all seemed at peace as the strange silent knight fought for the innocent on Lantern Hill, joining the ranks of the cities many strange heroes... ...then Crow had heard a dire warning from the grumpy dwarf who lived under the ramshackle house on 537. The dwarf was a refugee from some struggle between Avalon and the Norse gods, a good informant(if churlish) on the goings-on in the largely unknown world that lived beside Freedom City. Only half an hour ago the letter had arrived at Parkhurst, asking for the pair to meet him so he could tell them something he had learned about their new comrade-in-arms. When they arrived they had found the cramped and crammed basement all but trashed and the dwarf a still corpse on the starkly-lit floor, with a knife wound in his back. The conspicuous lack of blood somehow made it that much worse.

Calais, France Thursday, 24th April 2013 00:00 It was far too late and she should have been back in the hotel, but she was excited about travelling tomorrow. She had a couple of drinks and was in a good mood; no one had bothered her about her strange clothes and had allowed her to drink in peace. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of light and turning towards it she saw two women fighting in a alley both surrounded by glowing aura of light. Super here in Calais of all places! Against her better judgment she made her way over to see if she could in some way help. The younger of the two, a Moroccan girl barely out of her 20’s, had been knocked down to her knees as the other floated above her gloating. As she watched the young Moroccan girl looked up and she caught her eye. And she knew that the woman was Marianne, and least the part she was communicating with, and she was being attacked by someone called Gallia. And that this Marianne was in trouble and need somewhere to hide, not the woman she would be fine but the spirit. It didn’t take her a second for her decide and she agreed with a nod. And like that Marianne was inside her, and somehow she just knew things, but the one thing she knew she had to do was run. As she fled she had enough time to send a message of help, Marianne had sensed a familiar presence of an old friend, an impression of what just happened and one word of where they would be going...

Monday, January 6th, 2014 10:34 AM Wharton State Forest It almost hadn't happened. The weatherman had called for unseasonably warm temperatures through the end of the year, and the people behind the festival had talked about how to keep the ice from melting. Then everything changed when the weather blew up cold and windy; the Freedom League rallied metahumans and were managing to keep the worst of the 'polar vortex' at bay, but it did mean ice and snow for Freedom City and the Winter Festival was on. As the King family van pulled into the well-plowed parking lot of Wharton State Park, Gene King tried to remind himself that all that was good news. He should be happy that the heroes were keeping snow and cold to a manageable level -- but part of him couldn't help but think that this was precious extended Christmas vacation time being taken away from video games.