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GM July 6th, 2013 Pyramid Plaza, Freedom City 7:42 AM Pyramid Plaza was crowded with runners, volunteers, and on-lookers as the last touches were put on the day’s big event. The red-white-and-blue arch straddling Wading Way was already up, with gold and blue balloons tethered to it and ready to fly off. Volunteers were standing behind folding tables, signing in the last few attendees, while other runners stood in close knots or began stretching in preparation of the day’s activities. Off to one side, a line of news vans were lined up, and several reporters were shooting second or third takes for the morning news. One reporter, however, was preparing for a live broadcast. Melissa Zhong checked her appearance in a hand mirror one last time, made sure her audio lead was invisible and her microphone was working, and took her position in front of the camera. “Ten second, ‘Liz,†the cameraman said. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…†On cue the light went on and the reporter’s face broke into a pleasant, sunny smile. “Good morning, Freedom City,†she said. “This is Melissa Zhong, with Channel Four news in the morning, reporting live from Pyramid Plaza!†She walked and the cameraman rotated, swinging the view from the Channel Four van to the base triple towers, an icon of the city’s skyline. Right now though the view was crowded with people, and Melissa indicated the crowds with a sweep of her arm. “Hundreds have come out for today’s run, the 41st Annual Independence Day Charity Marathon. Almost every corporation in the city, from Dawes Tech to Martel Industries to Majestic Industries, has sponsored at least one group running here today.†The reporter plunged into the crowd and the cameraman followed. They quickly zeroed in on one young red-blonde woman, as she stretched and checked a device hanging from her neck. “Speaking of which, here’s Jessica Parker herself! Ms. Parker, who are you running for today?â€

GM Post Hanover Institute of Technology Today was a fine day to be one of the few who had the luxury of sporting a lab coat to work every day. Doctors, biologists and scientists all over made their way to the Hanover Institute of Technology. Today they were hosting the annual GBCE (Grant Biochemical Expo). This was started some 20 years ago by Grant Conglomerates to show off its newest hardware, but had since been expanded into an industry wide affair. Everything from microscopes, to MRI machines to DNA sequencers was on display. The expo was being held in HIT's largest gymnasium, and even spilled out into the nearby hallways, as well as having several outdoor booths. There were of course refreshments in the cafeteria. There were representatives from a multitude of think tanks, hospitals, police forces, government agencies, and investors looking to get in on the action. This was of course in addition to all of the students who were taking the opportunity to try to do some networking for their subsequent job hunting. A few lucky students even had a booth set up for some of their research that they've done at HIT over the past few months. Suffice to say, the place was packed. There was no telling who you might run into.

GM Port Regal, Freedom City Thursday, July 4, 2013 7:00 PM There was a time when Port Regal was one of Freedom City's most affluent districts. But over the last few decades, that affluence had declined somewhat. But while many of its mansions and Victorian-era homes had been turned into bed-and-breakfasts or as part of other business ventures, the district still retained some of the trappings of its former glory. One such example was the Silver Glen Country Club. Almost a hundred year olds, the exclusive Silver Glen Country Club was originally designed by the well renowned gold course architect, A. W. Tillinghast. Situated on the northern tip of the western peninsula that jutted out into the Centery Narrows, the country club had a magnificent view of downtown Freedom City and the harbor, as well as the Narrows itself and its northern shore. As such, it had a long history of hosting a Fourth of July party for Freedom City's high society. This Fourth of July was no exception. Located along the western shore of the peninsula, clubhouse was decorated with red, white and blue steamers and other decorations. In addition to its large decks and patio areas, the large gardens located next to the clubhouse now had catering tables set up among its well manicured hedges and flower beds, in addition to a makeshift dance floor in the courtyard surrounding a circular fountain. There was already a good sized crowd of some of Freedom City's wealthiest and most influential, with more arriving by the minute in the parade of sports cars, high-end luxury cars and limousines that were arriving at the front of the clubhouse.

Aroma Cafe Monday, January 28th, 2013 3:52 PM Eliza sat in the corner of the coffee shop, taking in inspiration and trying to avoid distraction as long as possible. The small cafe in Lincoln was one of her regular after-school hangouts. It was one of the holdouts of the Seventies, aimed at encouraging art and expression in a part of the city with a reputation for gang warfare. The theory had been that it would be better for people to take it out with their voice than their fists - and, for more than a few, it had worked. The Aroma had a reputation for the "passion" of its clientele - that's when some people want to say "anger" but be real polite about it - but said clientele was an incredibly mixed bunch. More than a few students from Freedom College made their way down here and made it a regular hangout. Today, Eliza was working on her homework - notes towards a term paper, math problems, and another poem for her Creative Writing class. She wanted to get as much done as she could before Sharl showed up. She didn't know what was going on with him. They made a habit of talking regularly on the phone when they couldn't arrange to get together, and Eliza was used to Sharl being out of contact. His school often meant that there was some field trip to somewhere exotic and out of cell reception. But after the last jaunt, he'd been the one to call first, and he'd seemed... nervous. Somewhat excited, too. Said there was something important he wanted to talk about, and in person. So she waited, trying to focus on the necessary to make time for the important.

February 27th, 2013 8:00 P.M. North Bay Marina Ever since the fateful events in the previous month in which the Curator sprung a sense of terror that the city hadn't seen in well over twenty years, the word charity had become synonymous with Freedom City's night life. And although the city itself would never be desperate for repairs with the spirit of Dr. Metropolis, the families of the victims and the civil servants who gave their all still needed the proper assistance to get through the most trying of times. Of course proceeds for the needy in general would not go forgotten. The somber subject didn't stop many an event from becoming such a grand celebration that it could be considered the go to event of the evening. As could be expected along the piers of the North Bay Marina overlooking Freedom's own historical museum from the distance, a large 534 ft. luxury yacht would be home to just such an event. Celebrations were well under way, as one by one an expensive vehicle or limousine began arriving bringing many of Freedom City's elite all under one place. The generous spirit of the night would do nothing to dissuade those with unsavory intent from partaking in the festivities. In fact, it was even suspected that some of the items put up for auction were simply a means to transfer illegal goods. The massive vessel belonged to the financial titans at Rath & Stromberg. Though one would be hard pressed to find the two children of Stromberg whom actually chose to attend the event. Choosing not to be on full display as the family was one that valued privacy. The roar of an engine would rip through the night as a dark blue rear engine sports car pulled into the pier. Erick Sloane adopted son of David Sloane accompanied promptly exited the vehicle. The handsome young man was dressed in a sleek custom tailored suit. The 2-button classic styled vent jacket worn over a collared dress shirt afforded him little protection against the cold night air. The Russian wasn't a stranger to less than favorable ambient temperatures and the only concession afforded to the temperature would be the slight moment in which he checked to see if his breath was visible. Erick's light blue eyes rose to meet with the large lumbering vessel. He didn't often attend the showy functions, and in fact dreaded the small talk that inevitably followed. Other than sharing a tax bracket, Erick didn't often find he melded with higher society all that well. "Remember it's for a good cause. I can nod along for at least an evening...I think."

Freedom City University, North End 11th March 2013, around 10 am The Library Whilst the FCU library was a spacious modern structure taking up around a half dozen floors there were still, if you wanted, nooks and crannies where one could have yourself away. One such area was where the library storied the myriad of periodicals and thesis’s belonging to the Physics department. Whilst the depart itself had some of the most prodigious scientists in the world it wasn't the held in such large esteem as some of the other departments. So there more esoteric, scientifically speaking, documents were tucked away in one corner of the library.

Jupiter, Sol System, 3rd May 2013 1100 UTC With a flash of light and more exotic particles they appeared several kilometres from Jupiter and began to “swim†toward the Gas Giant. They had many names in the various languages of the Milky Way and its Global Clusters most of them related to their appearance to various large marine animals. The Lor tended to use a term that roughly correspond to the human term Leviathans. It was hard to tell their number it’s was in the hundred’s, being creatures as must plasma and magnetic fields as physical flesh some had already begun to merge there’s essences to produce new-borns. With the smallest being the size of a Lear Jet any one of them could be considered a threat yet there had never been a recorded attack by these gentle giants of the spaceways. No one was truly sure how intelligent they were they could be tamed and made to carry out tasks, but their minds were to vast to alien for any telepaths to get a reading. One thing that suggested some intelligence was the Jumping dreams that some telepath’s would receive a day or two before the majestic creature’s actually made their move, which could reveal the systems the creature’s would be there destination. Though majestic creatures they would have been of little interest of the various Interstellar powers except for one thing, they could at a instance travel billions of Parsec’s and always seeming to arrive where they wished. It seemed to take them vast amounts of energies and they rested for many months after the journey. A live tamed Leviathan would make a crew rich enough to support many generations. All of the great powers of the Galaxy banned such practices, even the Grue though there gigantic bio-ships were strangely similar, and tended to protect the creatures when they arrived. However the creatures had started to wander further beyond the border of these powers, displaced by war, to area beyond their control. However whilst their energies of their arrival were detectable over a Parsec away there Jumping dream’s allowed the various interstellar agencies to arrange protection of the creature’s when they arrived.

GM April 1st, 2013. 11.45 AM Bridge of the Grievance Heart, In orbit of the Far Side of the Moon The red-skinned creature in the squat chair was thin and almost overcome by the folds, swaths and shadows of its voluminous red/black cloak and long green robe. Lean as a rail and with a narrow face drawn tight over its malleable skull supported by a hand cushioned with a supple black glove, two green eyes blazing luminously. The room about ihm was dark and cold, ancient metal supporting a myriad of viewscreens that droned out endless reports in languages even older. The lights scattered around the floor and ceiling burned with a crystalline blue, giving the place a mysterious cast that Phantasmagore, Grue Arcane and master wizard, liked immensely. He stared at the viewscreen directly before the chair once held by some forgotten child of the stars, gazing thoughtfully at the warm blue and green and brown circle shining in the distance, and from it to the gray fields of rock and dust of the satellite kilometers away, from them to the glittering city of spires in the smooth crater. 'No reason to overplay myself' the Grue thought placidly, tapping a nearby button that sent a roar of power into the engines of the Grievance Heart, one-time superweapon of the Lor Imperial Armada, and propelled the enormous angular craft serenely towards Farside City! One hour later... "Attention, people of Earth!" thundered the voice from every loudspeaker in Freedom City, as the unmistakable face of a Grue appeared on every screen. Glaring out at his audience, Phantasmagore stood in the middle of a mystic light show, rearing up to his full height as the wizard's robe swirled in a mysterious breeze. Pointing a hand at the screen, the alien mage declared "I have the city on the Moon in the sights of hundred-kiloton cannons, a full plasma battery and a planet-cracking beam. I dare you to stop me before I reduce your precious satellite to a cloud of dust! And by the way..." an ironic smile appeared smoothly as his face grew a mouth "If I detect anyone from the Freedom League, I will not hesitate to take action. The very best of luck to you!" With a faint electronic whine, the signal hijacking ceased and his image vanished. Approximately ten minutes and an emergency conference later, the Freedom League had sent out a quick series of coded messages to AEGIS headquarters and Director Harry Powers, a dispatch to the star galleon Ages Lost, Johnny Rocket raced to the door of Henry Mason, and Jennifer Fray at FLSCH(Freedom League Special Circumstances Housing) received a very terse call. All of them were directed to the same point, almost 20,000 feet above the city and directly above Freedom Hall..

GM Freedom City Waterfront, October 28th, Sunday, 7.08 PM The Order's instructions had been clear, and Blodeuwedd's execution of the instructions had been flawless. The smugglers' guards outside the warehouse had led the Welsh agent straight to their employers, who had led her to their employer, a corrupt official in the Freedom port Authority, who had led her(after resisting slightly more than her last informants) directly to the captain responsible for the latest shipment of contraband concealed amongst a shipment of iron from Wales destined for the industrial quarters of Freedom City. The Order had mentioned in passing that the smugglers had forced a minor air spirit into their service, apparently an ancestral friend of one of the UK-originating crew members. This had only been in the context of tactical threats to the agent, the message urging agent Blodeuwedd to evade it rather than engage, in the hopes that they could put a stop to the black market before it grew out of control. From her vantage point, she could make out through the pouring rain ten dockmen overseeing the unloading of the large cargo crates from the Ton Llygad, the crane doing the unloading being operated by the crewman with the tie to the air spirit, the miserable creature sitting dully in the air above him, shimmering oddly in the light as the rain passed through it. The tarmac was slick, and the water poured off of the crates as they were swung leisurely through the air, the stiff wind whistling in from the sea and whipping the coats of the dockmen around them.

GM April 10th, 10.45 AM, 2013 Claremont Academy, Athletic Field "Yes I can do it!" the blue-skinned boy crossed his arms indignantly, glaring up at the semi-circle of curious students. It was the tail end of late morning jogging practice, the day was crisp and damp, and new student Morsa Ven was being pestered again. "C'mon, man, show us, it's okay." urged one of the girls, putting an arm around his shoulder that he quickly shrugged off as he stepped back. Morsa was quite short for his age, which didn't help with putting him at his ease. "I...it is not something I ought to do just for show. Only for serious emergencies." That got a chorus of disappointment from the other heroes-in-training, but also sparked wicked grins on a few of them. "Emergencies, you say?" asked one of the boys thoughtfully, who looked like a giant in miniature. Casually walking closer to the blue-skinned alien he offered cheerily "I bet we could make one for ya!" Morsa paled as he stared up "P-please-" "Aw man, I'm just jokin'!" the boy laughed, patting him on the back and wandering back onto the track "I know you can't really teleport that fast." "I can!" snapped the Lor, fear replaced with anger. The twenty-eyed girl who had tried to hug him raised several eyebrows "Then prove it. 'Less you're scared." The huddle's mood shifted. They now had an angle!

Monday, April 15th, 2013 7:32 PM The O'Neil Housing Projects were not exactly the finest place to stay in Freedom City. It wasn't like anyone expected anything better out of the Fens, but the place had one hell of a reputation - gang violence, break-ins, and a thriving drug trade. But it was also home to several people who really didn't have anywhere else to go, and who were trying their hardest to reach for something better. Cannonade knew of at least one of them. Darnell Franklin was a guy he knew down at the foundry. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but they'd shared a few lunches and talked about how the Comets were doing. When he didn't show up for work on Monday, he didn't really chalk it up to anything weird - probably just illness. But then Alex - who was friends with Darnell - had mentioned that his phone was going directly to voice mail. After he'd gotten off his shift, he'd decided it wouldn't hurt to stop by the O'Neil projects as part of his nightly patrol. When he got there, he found the place on complete lockdown. Cop cars were around the block, with a SWAT truck or two for variety. And it looked like some of the cops were making adjustments to the types of robots the bomb squad tended to use. Yeah. There's no way this can be good.

April 1, 2013 In downtown Freedom City, the shops about the base of Pyramid Plaza bustled with customers looking to make up for the day prior's holiday. The spring weather meant lighter jackets than the receding winter chill had necessitated but the light cloud cover kept the breeze cool as shopping bags were juggled and grumpy children coming down from an excess of cheap chocolate added to the general din of the street. That noise was abruptly overshadowed by a booming rumble in the skies above, the clouds directly over top the towering Plaza darkening into storm clouds without warning. Another peal of thunder sounded almost immediately, lightning flashing amidst the slate coloured sky, red-tinged and angry. A city all too familiar with the malicious exploits of Dr. Stratos and similar villains glanced upward warily, the more cautious among the shoppers already looking for the shelter of overhangs or awnings. Even they were surprised, however, when a streak of blindingly crimson lightning speared downward and struck the middle of the street, sending bits of pulverized pavement flying outward. There was just enough time for panicked screams to register as vehicles were abandoned and pedestrians fled backward from the manhole cover sized crater before another bolt struck the same spot, accompanied by another boom of thunder. The next bolt came more quickly, then another even sooner after, building to a column of white hot fury searing a red after-image into the vision of those brave or foolish enough to still be watching. Just as suddenly the barrage from on high stopped, nearby shopfronts still vibrating from the reverberating thunder. At the center of the cracked street and the circle of hastily vacated cars stood a young man looking inquisitively about with piercing grey eyes. Appearing no more than seventeen, he had a slim, well defined build amply displayed by his lack of shirt and a skirt of overlapping white cloth bordered with red. Simple sandals adorned his feet while ornate gold armlets stood out against flawless skin bronzed from the sun and thick dreadlocks of deep red hair. Black markings framing his eyes completed the look of someone who had just stepped out an Ancient Egypt exhibit at the nearby Hunter Museum. Placing his hands on his hips, the figure offered the stunned crowd a broad, self-assured grin. "Hail, mortal realm!" he greeted them resoundingly, a note of laughter in his voice as he threw his arms up into the air. "Tis good to be back!"

GM Claremont Academy, Freedom City April 14th, Sunday, 11.59AM Another crisp, breezy spring day in Freedom City was at its height. The sun shone weakly down through a thick bank of clouds that hadn't shown any sign of leaving since morning, a gentle sea breeze was rushing across the Bayview Hill, and Claremont Academy was its usual quiet self. The grounds were well-populated, dotted with the school's outlandish students taking a breather from learning how to be the heroes the world would need. Most students were either off-campus or enjoying the outdoors before the week started the next morning and they would be stuck inside once more. Koshiro McMillan and Kimber Storm were among them, the paper-manipulator and poltergeist sharing a rare stroll together on the path threading around Claremont's lawn. Everything was going very well, until the golden eagle landed with a thud on the path a few feet in front of them. Looking up at the pair, it got unsteadily to its feet, croaked and offered them a talon ringed by a thin band of silver holding a small scroll.

A pair of Masks in civilian guise casually strode through the doors of HAX's Hanover headquarters, each with a small arsenal on their person. The male was a tired-looking twentysomething, with a couple of day's stubble and a mop of sandy brown hair hanging to the nape of his neck. He wore a loose, baggy black coat over a thick sweater and cargo pants. Beneath them, he wore a belt with a small arsenal of shuriken, a collapsible four foot long taser, and a handful of more advanced items. The female was slightly shorter and less disheveled looking, dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore a plain white blouse over black slacks, with a battered looking leather jacket atop it all. She was less heavily armed, with nothing but an extendable metal rod tucked into one of her boots, and a belt around her waist with a control panel slung off to the side and hidden by the jacket. "I think this is where she works..." pondered Chris Kenzie, casually looking around the foyer. "Think, Kenzie? Could you be somewhat clearer?" came the exasperated reply of Liz Lawlett beside him. "Does she even know we're coming?" Geckoman waved one hand airily. "Maybe. I've been busy." At which point, unbeknownst to them, their hardware triggered the alarm systems.

GM 2013, February 28th, Wednesday, 12.05 PM Freedom City, Bayview, Claremont Academy, Mathias Cooke Wing, Room 206B The place was Freedom City. The year was 1965, and the dim room had just gone through one of the harrowing stories of the human race on the brink. Some of the impact was lost on the more apathetic, dead or alien students, but everyone at least kind of looked interested. Dr. Amelia Valero clicked to the last slide, showing a faded 1960s picture of the bulky and purple Soarazon fleet roaring back into the sky, the Freedom League watching them go. The distinguished-looking woman paced forward, declaring placidly "That single stroke by Galatea and Sea-King was enough. The warlike Soarazons had never encountered mercy or forgiveness before from other races during an attack since the High Wars, and so they left Earth at once in the company of Star Knight to surrender themselves to the Lor fleet, vowing never to return." She smiled dourly "This vow has been broken at least twice before, each time on the anniversary of the attack, although each time the blockade fleet informs us that they stopped the invaders far from our system's borders. Something to think about when you go to Astronomy" she added with a faint grin. Looking over the lines of seated students her cool brown eyes flicked up to the clock at the back of the room(catching a few furtive backwards glances with a silent rebuke) the Supers History teacher sighed almost imperceptibly for those without super-hearing and began to put back together her notes and the class textbook. "I'm afraid time's up for today, class. Tomorrow we'll start in on the latter 1960s. All Tectonic, all the time!" the answering groan from the students got a real laugh from the sturdy Latin woman "Alright, settle down, I'm joking. He was a very crucial figure though. and his exploits fighting the Vibrator are difficult to believe. Dismissed!" In an instant the classroom burst into motion, the lights came back on and the dozens of students surged back out into the halls, most of them chatting happily to each other in small knots of friendship, handing in late papers with suitably apologetic looks to the briskly polite professor, or charging off alone to something they were already ten minutes late for, legs pumping furiously. Six students however were called back in. "Ah, Mr. Silvestri! Sondo! Stelzer! Griffith, Andrews, Solarin!" the last three were directed at a tall and refined-looking African boy, a stocky and grumpy British girl with dark red hair, and a muscular, excited American boy with bright blue eyes and black hair. She raised an eyebrow as she scanned over a small sheet on her desk "Lot of 'S' names in my classes for some reason. Anyway, since you did so well on the last test(and I must admit, in your case I'm astounded, Mr. Stelzer) I want you all to band together and do a mini-project on alien invasions of the 1960s. It has to be at least twenty pages if written, ten minutes if a recording of some kind, otherwise you're free to do as you like! Any questions?" She asked with a warm smile.

February 14th, 2013 Hunter Museum of Natural History, Freedom City Noon Tona Baudin wandered through the halls of the Hunter Museum, looking up at the bones of long-dead animals or posed scenes out of prehistory. Fossilized ferns were lined up next to stone arrowheads and a slim piece of wood with the plaque "One-Note Flute" in front of it. Tona was more used to nature than most, heck she was a lot more comfortable in the natural world than in the artificial one most people inhabited, but this wasn't her natural world. She was used to living animals and green, growing things; not dust and rocks and approximations. But here she was, trying to find something to write about, because the Curator had abducted her before exams and Claremont wasn't about to let a test taken by a robotic duplicate go on someone's permanent record. Apparently. The young woman sighed and hitched at the straps of her bag, where her bow and costume rested. Even here she was ever ready, though goodness knows what kind of villain would attack a museum in the middle of the day. She walked out of the prehistory exhibit and began wandering towards agriculture. Ever since her visit to Sanctuary she'd been growing more interested in how many people a piece of land could support, so maybe she could write about the history of farming, or something. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into another girl! Tona fell on her ass, blushing at her own clumsiness. "Merde. I'm sorry, I just wasn't watching where I was -- Katherine Shade? Is that you?"

Tuesday, March 12, 2013 10:25 PM A thick cloud cover hung over Freedom City, intensifying the gloom of the already dark night. On the other side of the South River, the lights of downtown Freedom City glistened against the dark sky, seemingly alive with energy. Along the southern bank of the river, there were the bright lights and neon of the casinos of the Boardwalk, attempting to entice new patrons. But stretching out from the glitz of the Boardwalk were the dark streets of Southside. Long a middle and lower-middle class section of the city, Southside had for years struggled with the encroachment of crime in its neighborhoods. Despite the efforts of a number of costumed crimefighters, there still appeared that the bad areas were slowly expanding. As such, there often seemed to be something happening in Southside that would warrant attention, even from someone new to crimefighting.

Friday March 1, 2013 Mozambique air space between Pemba and the Messalo River Valley 11:00 CAT (Central Africa Time) [5:00 AM Freedom City] Though it was not yet mid-day on the southeastern coast of Africa, the temperature had already reached the high eighties, without accounting for humidity. Rain clouds lay to the west, though that was hardly unusual as March was the wettest month of the year for this region of Mozambique. An old, Soviet made Mil Mi-8 (Hip) helicopter was flying low over the acacia and palm savannah that covered much of the area near the Messalo River valley in Mozambique's Cabo Delgado province. The sliding side door on the left side of the aircraft had been left open, providing those inside with some much welcome ventilation to help deal with the stifling heat, humidity and the smell of aircraft fuel from the twin turbines located just above the helicopter’s cargo area. For the ten passengers in the back of the Mozambique Air Force transport, this was the last leg of a long journey. More than fifteen hours ago, they had left Jordan International Airport in Freedom City aboard a plane chartered by Danger International. Their travel route had taken them through Accra, Ghana, where they had boarded a smaller plane, which had flown them to the airport in Pembra, Mozambique, where they had then boarded the Hip. Five of the passengers were employees of Danger International, a foundation and NGO that was heavily involved in humanitarian aid projects in a variety of Third World countries. Dr. Mario Conte; registered nurses Dorothy Cofield and Andrew Myers; civil engineer Denise Gorrell; and support personnel Steven Wilker were part of the disaster relief team DI was dispatching to the Messalo River valley in response to flooding that had occurred when a dam under construction on the river had collapsed less than forty-eight hours ago. The other members of the team, along with UNISON super-agent, Edge, were already on site, preparing the base camp the team would be using during its stay. The other five were individuals who had volunteered to assist the team for the next few days, and were in fact superheroes. Four were students (two young women, two young men) from the Claremont Academy. As a graduate of Claremont himself, during the rushed planning for this mission, Edge had had the idea to reach out to the school and see if any students might want to join the mission for a few days and get a chance to learn about other ways they could use their powers that did not involve fighting criminals. The fifth was by far the most unusual of the group, a humanoid cheetah, the superspeedster known as Jubatus.

March 2013 Mark sat alone on the beach, his heavy jacket keeping the chill of a Freedom City spring off his body. He was out of costume today, resting after a long morning with his mother. He knew his mother was sick, knew it in that twisting place inside of him that all the good intentions in the world couldn't fix, and it was a bad feeling. His mom had done some bad stuff, but that had been because she had problems, not because she had a problem. Whatever had happened, Martha Lucas was still his mom. And that was good, because she needed a friend. He skipped stones for a while, his mind wandering as he in fact lost track of why he was on the beach at all. The ocean made him think of Nina these days, his girlfriend having gone back to Socotra for Typhoon's birthday celebration. Nina wasn't exactly a conventional girl, either, but she was still his girl. Maybe he needed to do more things for her....

Mid-afternoon, November 10th. Elias has ventured the idea, as a team building thing, and because, well he wanted out in the woods, and he expected that they wouldn't just sign off on him going alone. So post up a request, and see who would nibble in the beginning of November. Of course he had been in worse weather, so he was fine in it. But surprisingly, there were people willing to come along, a larger group than he expected. There was a faculty member coming along, one of the science teachers, a Mr. Landis, mostly there to make certain no one caught on fire, and to drive the van. A nice guy, Mr. Landis spoke with anyone who wanted to know about biology, but he seemed as keen as some of the others to get out of the city for the weekend. Elias had been the first person to throw up his tent, and then immediately started foraging once he accomplished that, taking a hatchet with him to use as a tool. He didn't discourage anyone from coming with him, and he had to tell Mr. Landis what he was going to do anyway.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013 Claremont Academy Evening Evening. The end of another long day at Claremont Academy, surely the oddest school in the world. For Tona Baudin, the day had been full of learning, and exercise, and honing her mind and body into a singular, powerful machine. Many of the students had unusual powers of one kind or another and they focused on using them instead of their own physical talents, but all Tona had were her body and her skills. She kept herself in top form, because there was no other way for her to compete with her fellow students, and Tona was far too competitive to be anything but the best. And this day had been another success, one well earned and fought for, and Tona was ready to go to bed. She had showered and taken care of other matters in the floor's communal bathroom, and now she was standing outside the door to her dorm room. Hesitating. Inside was her roommate, Cerys Pefr, one od the few girls in the school who could understand just how hard Tona worked, and why. One of the few who Tona considered a friend -- except for that day almost a month ago, when a Curator drone masquerading as Tona had tried to kill Cerys, and a lot of other people. Now the air between them was tense, strained, and Tona had no idea had to fix things. But she couldn't stand outside the door for much longer without an RA coming over and asking questions and making things a thousand times more embarrassing. So Tona opened the door and stepped through. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on her bed and grunted a greeting to Cerys.

GM 1st August, late evening... Doctor Karl Wessex shuffled nervously along the soup line. The various hobo's and insolvents of Freedom City had been more nervous than normal since the incident six months ago. They gave Karl a suspicious look, not keen on anyone scientific or medical. Nobody believes it... he told himself, firming his resolve. But from what I heard...she would... It had taken him a day or two to find out about Revenant, and he guessed this was the best place to find her on this warm night, wandering the streets of Freedom and helping out at the soup kitchen....

"Little India", West End 16th October 2012 The term Little India was a bit of a misnomer as people from all over South Asia had made this part of the West End their home. This included a sizable Muslim population, mainly from Pakistan, and today was a special day for the whole community. After several months of collecting and planning they were finally ready to start construction on a local Mosque. The plan was for the community to build the place themselves, mostly for the few of them who worked in construction, but on the first day the idea was that the whole community would pitch in to start the building. They’d even invited a prominent Muslim to lay the first stone of the Mosque. One problem them had to decide upon was a local resident Lucy Harker, also known as Revenant. It seems that this area was once her home and she had now resumed residence in the area, acting as a protector of all the residents of this part of the West End. The moments she had heard about their idea she was enthusiastic about the idea, attending all the meeting and generously donating money. The problem wasn’t that she was an outsider or even a woman; it was that she was quite openly undead.

Trevor Hunter was very good at doing things for very good reasons. A personal moral code that allowed for no compromise and a keen, analytical mind meant that very few of his actions were left to chance, the end result always kept in mind. As such he had a number of excellent arguments for asking Erin White to move into the mansion to which he was heir. She'd stayed at the manor for a time after they'd moved out of the Claremont dormitories and the arrangement had proved agreeable. Even one of the bedrooms would very nearly afford more room than the entire apartment she was staying in currently, to say nothing of the other facilities. Being closer to the hidden headquarters secreted under the foundation would likely prove useful in their shared work as members of the Liberty League. Ultimately, however, honestly compelled him to admit privately that the core reason was that he really wanted to. That note of emotion over logic had the young, dark-haried man pacing nervously across the lobby in a most uncharacteristic display as he waited for Erin to arrive.

Saturday, March 16, 2013 2:13 AM "... I believe that is all the questions I will answer for now. I thank you for listening, this has been Etain Maher, next session I will get more in deph about the creatures I have mentioned before. Goodbye until then." Curtis leaned back on his seat as the recording finished, looking up at the ceiling murmuring to himself after just having been sidetracked from his research into fellow local magical superheros and whatnot by her blog. "Should I contact her or should I not... oh come on... you're a superhero, and superheros don't not do things. Besides you should make friends in the magical community sooner or later." He logged in to his email account and started writing an email. From: cwright42@usnet.com Subject: I do magic too Dear Etain Maher, Hey, my name is Curtis Wright and I do magic too. I have arcane talent I've inherited from my grandfather and a magic book he left me. It's mostly a very complex style of rune magic and I've been able to make very complex spells with it due to my already existing expertise in programming and computer science. (You'd be surprised at how similar programming and some styles of magic are.) Though my grandfather might have had other magic books lying around with details on verbal and somatic casting. Still haven't figured those out so I'm limited to whatever spells I make before I head out. I just thought you might like to know about other magic users in the city, since you're putting yourself out there for the world to see on your blog and on your podcast. I think as for the type of magic I use, it's technically not technomancy (not yet anyways, haven't figured it out) and I think of myself as more of an artificer, or perhaps a "program-o-mancer." Regards, Curtis Wright.