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September 7, 2012 Sharl wasn't sure what to make of the assignment he'd gotten from Ms. Harcourt, Claremont's hardworking science teacher, but he was there anyway for the "special team project" she'd invited him for. As more of his teammates arrived, it soon became clear that most of Young Freedom, and even one or two faces outside of it, had been invited along for the elective. They were in one of Harcourt's science labs, and Citizen found himself studying the homemade equipment with undisguised fascination as more people entered. _Could she really have made one of these out of household items?_ he thought with a little amazement as he drifted around a big kitbashed cylinder of electronic parts in the center of the room. "Come on in, everybody!" called Harcourt as more students entered. "Those of you who were asked to bring bags, and that's everyone who could, make sure you have those before you find a seat. This will be an overnight trip, and you need to be self-sufficient."
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Saturday, March 4th, 2012 4:02 PM Waterfront warehouse district, Freedom City Todd Hayden wove his cherry-red Mustang through the traffic of Freedom City was practiced ease, slipping from lane to lane and passing slower cars with barely a glance in his mirrors. As he drove he spoke, his words for the benefit of the three young heroes from Claremont academy that occupied the rest of the car. "My ancestors were pirates," he said. "Freebooters, privateers, sea dogs -- they sailed the oceans and looted and plundered to their hearts content. That's because for years they were also cultists of the Snake People. "We came to the New World with the first wave of English immigrants. Settled up in Boston, among the coves and natural harbors. Eventually the family's wealth was tied up in investments on land, not the sea, and I guess they didn't feel the need to worship the old gods anymore -- or maybe Elijah Prophet got the last of the Dagon-worshippers and the rest of the family didn't want to burn, I don't know." Hayden downshifted and pulled off the freeway, heading steadily towards the docks and piers. "I guess we just couldn't stay away from the water and easy money, though. In the thirties my family was involved with fascist groups in the States. Lots of people were -- I have a photograph of my great-granddad with Henry Ford. But when the war started we threw out lot behind the Nazis, tried to use our money and influence for them. We were almost found out by the first Raven and Lady Liberty, but somehow we just barely managed to keep out of jail. "The family named was ruined, though. My grandfather and father were both gamblers and drunks. I inherited a pile of debts and a legacy scholarship to Georgetown. I just wanted to dig around in the dirt for my whole life, but once I graduated... I was going to spend my entire life working at business or end up bankrupt and living in a shoebox, working at a museum somewhere." The car was crawling through access roads now, the sea close enough to smell. "When the Serpent People approached me, I... I knew it was a deal with the devil, but I thought I had the upper hand! They told me where I could find some old sunken treasure in Chesapeake Bay. I paid off my family's debts with that and started looking to dig abroad. They told me where I could find old Atlantean ruins, outposts from their war thousands of years ago. A whole chapter of history no one knew anything about! It was absurdly easy to make my name, and then I could pick and choose where I worked. "That's when Ernest showed up, and the Serpent People started leaning on me harder and harder. They wanted to know about navy movements, they had me drop sonar buoys and magical trip mines at dig sites. In the Middle East, I handed off money to some man whose name I never got. A week later, an archeological dig in Yemen was dynamited! I thought I should turn myself in, go to the Freedom League, whatever, but Ernest -- or at least one of them -- was always there." Hayden stopped the car and nodded at a row of warehouses. "The one on the very end, that's where the shark skeleton was delivered to. I... I don't know if I can help you any more than this."
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Friday, April 20th 9:52 PM Greenbank was, as always, a place of bones. The bones of old railways. The bones of abandoned factories. The bones of prosperity. Unlike The Fens, known for its vice and its depravity, Greenbank was run-down and barely breathing, with predators already there to feast on the flesh. There were a few sparks of hope in this part of town - community leaders trying to unite the people, businesses looking to set up new factories on cheap real estate, bosses and workers coming together to keep the existent businesses still in operation. Every so often, they'd succeed. But there were times it seemed they were doing all they could to make a dying man comfortable. Nick Cimitiere knew Greenbank well. This place had no lack of ghosts - bums who'd died on cold nights, would-be gangsters whose plans had fallen apart, even a few organizers from the old, wild, pre-labor days. Some of them stuck around out of devotion to Freedom, but many just couldn't find the exits. He was walking in the shadow of an old assembly plant, long since taken by the elements. He'd heard rumors of strange lights shining out through the windows on moonless nights, and thought it sounded right up his alley. If it was some lost soul, or urban explorers, simple enough. But given the nature of the area and the activities that gave it its reputation, he came prepared for the worst. Before he could cross the threshold, however... "Help me! Oh, Christ, somebody help me!" The cry came the other side of the plant, and sounded like it had been pushed out between heaving gasps. Nick ran around the side, trying to catch up with the fleeing man. There were some invitations he just couldn't turn down.
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July 4th, 2012 5:32 PM Joe Macayle stepped off the bus, feeling a bit out of his element amongst the swirling labyrinth of classical mansions. He'd been here quite a few times before, but usually at night and usually with an eye towards the back entrance. But standing before the gates of the Hunter Estate, in broad daylight, he really wondered if this was his place. Usually he didn't give a crap about things like this, but somehow, the invite had stirred up some lingering traces of self-consciousness. He'd come fairly dressed down - a fairly simple tee, jeans, and Docs, even leaving the braces at home in favor of a belt - carrying a cooler full of burgers in one hand and another full of ribs in the other. And yet, somehow, he found himself standing at the gate, wondering if he should turn back, get some better clothes or something. He shook his head. What the hell, he said. They've taken me as I am so far. With that, he rang the buzzer. "I'm here," he said into the intercom. "Don't know if I'm early or not..."
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Unfair Science Fair May 22, 2012 It was a big day at Joseph Clark High School; luckily Keith LaMarr was a very big man. The largest public high school in Lincoln was today hosting the 23rd annual George Washington Carver Science Fair, a cavalcade of the best and brightest from all over South Freedom. Kids from around there didn't get a lot of opportunities, so the chance for budding young geniuses to strut their stuff in public before potential college scouts was very compelling. It helped that today the school had managed to secure a celebrity judge for the GWC Fair: the world-famous gadgeteer Miss Americana! A lot of this was outside of Keith's area of expertise, of course, but few teachers at any high school in the area could bring a crowd of parents, students, and onlookers to heel with a look with as much ease as Mr. LaMarr the civics teacher. So he was on scene early to help with organization as Joseph Clark's kids got their displays set up and more kids began to arrive for the fair. It was a big day for everybody, with palpable excitement on the eager faces of the young scholars. Nearby was Patrick Grayson, an up-and-coming young senior whose intelligence had vaulted him several grades up, his research project having let him construct a minature gravitic generator like what Daedalus used to power his armor. The floating silver sphere was just a toy, but it bespoke good things for the kid who'd built it on his table using scraps. Keith had had special reason to pay attention to Patrick, and that reason was there too. Patrick's grandpa was watching his son work with pride, the grey-haired older man with his shock of hair and mustache vaguely slightly resembling Don King. Peter Grayson, aka the Mauler, had been a recurring foe for 1-800-JUSTICE back in the day, but the former prizefighter had abandoned his criminal ways after marrying Patrick's gramma Rose Marie. Pete had recognized Keith, of course, but the now- bespectacled older man had been very careful to stay close by his grandson rather than wander too close to his old enemy. -------- Meanwhile, across town, Glow and Citizen were flying along from the Claremont campus towards Miss Americana's laboratory; her facility one at the Lab, not the one at Archetech. It was Glow's 'ride-along day' for Miss Americana, part of her heroic training, which luckily coincided with Citizen's weekly day spent with his mentor. "You'll have a _great time_ with Miss A," Citizen was reassuring Glow, obviously looking very happy to be there. He didn't hang out with Kristen too much, but she was pretty cool, and of course Miss A was the coolest. "We're not doing much today, just some stuff around Freedom City, but she's great to hang out with. Her lab's got great gadgets, and she's just neat." He hadn't had a chance to hang out with Miss A much (as opposed to Gina) lately, and so he was looking forward to today quite a lot. Glow had heard of Miss Americana, of course, who hadn't heard of the beautiful, all-American genius whose charitable works made her so popular? From cybernetic limbs for injured kids all the way through blasting city-controlling abominations from the depths of space, Miss Americana was all right. It made a lot of sense that a famous science hero like Miss A had a cybernetic sidekick like Citizen, for all that he hadn't talked much about where he came from. Miss A had left the window of her laboratory open against the comfortable late spring day (since this was more a traveling day than a working day), and Glow and Citizen flew right in.
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GM Monday, August 13 2:00 PM The Hunter Natural History Museum was a bustling place, buzzing with talk about the new animatronic dinosaur exhibit that was on loan for a few weeks. Over the next few weeks, virtually every elementary school in Freedom City would send their children to the museum to see the wonderful exhibit. They were supposedly the most lifelike dinosaurs ever constructed, and were on a tour. They'd already been in New York, and were now in Freedom City. A group of school children on a field trip were taking the tour, guided by chaperones. Some of them were interested, others were bored out of their minds. The dinosaurs themselves were in a specially outfitted area, with models of ancient plants from the dinosaur era scattered about.
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July 2012 Freedom City was an especially alien place in the summertime, given that Citizen had come here from one of his too-few visits back home. The heat poured off the naked alien sky overhead in a hot, moist blanket of humidity, the bizarre scents of humanity en masse rising from above the streets as he wafted his way through the sky towards Claremont Academy. Citizen had been in contact with Miss Americana since his departure, of course, as well as sending emails to his friends, but this was the first time he'd been back on Claremont's campus since his departure at the end of the formal school year. It was also the first time he'd brought his friend. "Hey, come here, Lora!" called Sharl, snapping his fingers towards the sky and bringing forth his dog! Lora was a black and brown canine from the German Shepard breed, an alien creature who'd had to board with a programmed sitter at Miss A's placewhile he visited a city where such creatures would have been an alien menace. But here on the streets of Freedom City, Lora was just another dog. It had taken some work to bond with the creature, but she was a nice doggie. Gina had made her well. Lora jumped up and licked her young master's face for a moment, making him sputter and reset his glasses, before he affectionately scratched behind her ears and went to look for his friends, cyber-dog in tow. Lora's holographic paws skittered lightly as he headed up the steps into the dorm building that he and Koshiro had shared.
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GM Saturday 4th August, after sundown... Mrs. Fairfield was an old woman, nearly eighty and looking every inch of it. She was still of reasonable height, and weight, but was stooped over and walked with a stick. Her hair was completely white, tied back, and reading glasses tumbled from a chain around her neck. There was something sprightly in her eyes, despite her venerable body. Something that spoke of a sparkling youth. The speculative soul, on examining her would wonder about just how handsome and attractive she would have been decades ago, for there was the remnant of youthful beauty still. She stuck to the main streets, gripping her stick, and scowling at anyone she thought might mug her. She wouldn't normally roam the streets. But the dreams.... Something was up, of that we was sure. Ever since that Russian Priest had come in, all polite. Knew a lot. Asking about all sorts of stuff from her shop, and religion, and magic. She prided herself on having a firm academic base, but that man knew more than she ever would... And then, he was asking about Ghosts. Said he wanted one. No...he needed one. Yes, that was his words. He needed a Ghost... And then came the dreams. Vivid, magical dreams, exciting and terrifying at the same time. A dream of a girl... There! She stopped and stared at the youngster on the street. Peering at her with an open jaw. Just like the dreams!!! She approached the young girl. "Excuse me, dear..." she said, politely, her fingers tapping on her stick. "I know this sounds, well...senior..." she laughed. "But I have the sensation I know you. I have...dreamed of you..." she explained, rather awkwardly.
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4:56 PM Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012 Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City The city had been in the grip of a heat wave for a full week now, and the weather service wasn't forcasting any relief until the weekend. The dark sedan rolled up the baking, two-lane road towards the walled compound that held one of the city's most prestigious secondary schools. It slowed as it reached the walls of the academy, turning in and quickly finding a parking space. A casually dressed young man and a young woman with a tan climbed out of opposite sides of the car; the young man opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a packed duffel bag and a heavy rolling bag. He set them up next to the young woman and nodded at her. "I'll go get a teacher," he said. "Let them know you're here." With that he struck off towards the central building. The young woman's stooped and hefted the duffel without comment, then dragged it and the luggage into the shade of a nearby tree. She looked around the campus slowly, but aside from a few students walking around (and doing their best not to stare at the new arrival) there wasn't much to see. All the windows facing the quad made her nervous, but it had been mentioned over and over again that she shouldn't attack anyone at Claremont, at least until they asked her to. After a few minutes of standing, shifting her weight from side to side, the young woman dug a length of string from a pocket. She knotted it into a circle and draped it over both hands, pulling it taunt before beginning a complicated cat's cradle.
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GM The spirits were different. Or at least - appeared - different. Both of them were women. Both of them were the incarnate spirit of some idea, some land. Victory and Justice. Perhaps they were one and the same, perhaps not. Even the two superheroes which served each spirit, El Heraldo and Young Britannia, were not privy to their true nature. No doubt a thousand other such spirits (or aspect of one) existed, some given manifest form, some not. However, only two superheroes of these spirits were in Freedom City at this point. And they were chosen. For the message was the same. "I call upon you. Another force like I stirs, but a force malign. The spirit of Lemuria, the serpent empire. It is the spirit of slavery, and cruelty, and dominance. It's chains could break the world... In the War of this land, it was defeated, But now, history may be rewritten... Without talking, speaking, or hearing, somehow both heroes knew where to look. Freedom City Library. The cults of the American Civil War. By Professor James Bottle
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Friday 22nd June 2012 Blodeuwedd couldn’t contain her excitement. Finally after all these months she was called upon to do the job she had been trained for. One of the Orders associate members called Nash had asked for her to visit him at a prearranged location to deal with an issue with a recently discovered artefact. It was laughably easy to sneak out of Claremont’s academy, she sometimes suspected they allowed people to do that as long as they didn’t get caught, to the little apartment she maintained as part of a carefully constructed cover story. Tonight she wasn’t Blodeuwedd, or even Cerys, no tonight she was Ellis Bextor a 21 year socialite and party goer. She inspected her look one last time before leaving her apartment. Her hair had been styled in one of the latest fashion she’d seen in a fashion magazine. Her body suit had been transformed into the classic little black dress, just the right side of decent, whilst she had decided on boot’s rather than heels to hide a few throwing knives, just in case. Her cloak was doing a much more vital job, currently invisible it concealed Dyrnwyn her sword. Finally she popped her goggles and a reasonable amount of spending money and she was ready for the night.
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August 10th, 2011 Lincoln 12:11 AM Freedom City was a prosperous burg, a shining city of progress and opportunity. In recent history, the cleaning up of the Fens was often touted as an example of how things were getting better. But for the citizens living in Lincoln, time might have decided to stand still. This was very evident late one night (so late it's early in the morning, as the joke went) on a corner deep in the neighborhood. The building was a glass-walled box that had changed hands between various entrepreneurs; at the moment it was a Qwik-'n'-Buy. Something things always stayed the same, like the high school kid manning the counter at such a late hour -- and the four other teenagers with big guns, wearing ski masks. The two with shotguns (one pump, one sawed-off double-barrel) were keeping the cashier covered while he emptied the register; the pair with pistols (one revolver, one Walther PPK knock-off) were ransacking the shop, showing a distinct preference for TV dinners and alcohol.
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The Pine Barrens Thursday, January 4th, 2012 2:32 PM In all honesty, Cannonade could think of better places to be on a Thursday afternoon off from work. Walking down the Boardwalk, or getting a coffee and snack at the Black Petal. But here he was, flying in a helicopter over the Pine Barrens, looking for strange trees. Then again, he had to thank AEGIS for getting him out of work in the first place. They'd called him up with the assignment, and one call to the steel mill later - apparently cellulitis was the hot thing this year for sick day excuses - he had the next few days off, fully compensated. Which meant he was waiting for the other shoe to drop when Commander Grayston, who'd put him on the Nina al-Darsah job earlier in the year, swung by his apartment. "Aerial surveillance over the Barrens caught these a few days ago," Grayston had said, tossing a folder Joe's way. He'd picked it up and flipped through it. First was a photo from the sky, of a seemingly endless row of the famous pine trees of the Barrens -- only the needles were ash gray, and falling out in clumps on some trees. Next came photos from the ground, depicting the trees in more detail. The branches seemed to have grown in upon themselves, swelling until they burst or wrapping around themselves, and the trunks had turned the same pale color as the needles. A before-after picture, complete with time stamp, showed an AEGIS agent, clad in an NBC suit, taking an axe to one tree -- and felling it with one chop, as a large chunk of the base seemed to turn to dust with the impact. "...so, what, really local forest fire?" Cannonade had asked. "Budding firestarter?" "There was no chemical evidence of a forest fire -- no smoke traces, nothing. And unless this theoretical pyrokinetic could shut off his own fires, the damage would have spread farther than this. No, we've seen something like this before. Farmland around Salem, Massachusetts, 1927. Something fell onto a local settlement, spreading effects similar to the fallout of a nuclear explosion... only much more concentrated and with more mutagenic properties." "Great. Nukes. Mind telling me what this thing was?" "If we knew, we'd tell you. The phenomenon... vanished, just as quickly as it appeared. All any eyewitness could describe it as was a 'color,' similar to the Northern Lights. In any case, this seems to be the highest burst of damage from whatever it is - odds are that was the impact site - but we did find subtle evidence of a trail leading east. It's only a matter of time before this thing finds civilization." "And you want me to go in before it gets there," Cannonade had said. "All right. Mind if I make some calls?" The rest of the Liberty League had come out at the call - well, except for Ace Danger and Bombshell, who were still tied up in some sensitive business in Saudi Arabia - and, attended by more than a few AEGIS technicians, they scanned the Barrens from the air, looking for some sign of whatever was prowling through the woods, spreading blight as it went.
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14 April 2012 The weather is nice today, Eve thought as she looked out across the Great Bay. It was a fleeting thought, and only a momentary distraction from the anxiety gnawing at her, for guests would be arriving soon. Eve was never one for drawing attention to herself--the few friends she had knew she preferred to be the quiet, unseen hand in the background--but there were certain things she was unable to avoid. Unavoidable, perhaps, but not immutable. By floating out an invitation to her friends and teammates, and most importantly Etain, Eve was able to neatly sidestep the preconceived notion of what an eighteenth birthday party for someone of her wealth and status should be like. Taking things into her hands would allow the Martel heiress to do things her way. That thought brought a smile to her face as she slipped back into her room then headed down the stairs, guests would be arriving soon, after all.
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GM The address of "the Master" was in Lantern hill, near to the cemetery, and not far from St. Stephens Church. the buildings here were old, very old, and very beautiful, full of class and distinction, with a Victorian flavour. They were, almost certainly, extremely expensive. The Address lead Revenant to a particular delightful, tall house, not quite a mansion, but spacious, with a garden. It had a slightly tumbledown appearance, with an overgrown garden peppered with rubbish and bricks. Its chimney filled the air with a plume of smoke - someone had a fire going inside.
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GM Thursday, March 15 10:15am Tracey Feldman glanced down and reached for the dial on her car radio as a particularly annoying song started to play. She turned the volume down, then looked up in time to see traffic screeching to a halt in front of her. Panicked, she jammed her foot down on the brake, but the wheels of her Toyota just locked up. Unable to stop, she crashed solidly into the back of a Peugeot sedan. The accident started a chain reaction in moments the mid-morning traffic in the North End district turned to gridlock behind a 6-car pileup. As drivers climbed out of their cars to argue, yell and fuss over the damage the cause of the accident became clear. A little further down the road a white Courier's van on its side, the front section of the vehicle a smouldering ruin with tendrils of black fire still writhing around the engine bay. Hovering above the wrecked van floated a robed figure, wreathed in similar black fire. With his arms folded across his chest he surveyed the carnage impassively. Atop the rolled van stood another robed and hooded figure. Holding the injured Courier driver by the scruff of his neck in an impressive display of strength the villain cut an imposing figure and stood with a menacing posture that seemed to dare any of the onlookers to intervene. The back door of the van was also open and a third robed figure was inside rummaging through the the packages and boxes, obviously searching for something in particular.
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May 4 2012 After all the exhaustion of the last few months, it had been a welcome relief for Mark to get invited to the get-together at the Socotran Consulate for Nina's brother Morakot. Or be informed by Nina over breakfast that they'd be attending, anyway. "Personally, I never thought Morrie was going to get married," she told Mark breezily as she sat back in her chair and drank her dark, strong-smelling Arabian coffee with a thoughtful expression. "But he's nearly forty now and he's not getting any younger. Father does value family, and he does control the purse strings. You can't be a gentleman bachelor forever, not and enjoy the lifestyle of a prince of Socotra." Morakot al-Darsah, Mark knew, had been something of a playboy in years past, his dark skin, good looks, and well-groomed mustache making the wealthy prince a star of the tabloids of a previous generation: he'd even once squired Princess Diana around. He'd made it a point to be up to date on Nina's family after they'd started dating. "So he's announcing his engagement here in Freedom City? He must be marrying somebody local." He put his mind to the thought of all the eligible women in town interested in marrying a handsome prince, but there were too many possibilities. "And you don't know who, or you'd have told me already." That got him one of Nina's more predatory smiles. Mark had the idea Nina didn't always appreciate it when he was clever, but she seemed to find it interesting all the same. "You seem to have my number, Mr. Lucas. Anyway, yes, it is a mystery! He's been out of the public eye lately, you see, going to all those clubs of his and spending Father's money like it's made of water. So Father has used his influence with the consulate to make sure you and I both have tickets to the soiree next week. The better to keep an eye on my errant brother, and to make sure he's not about to disgrace the family." "A courtly evening with you? I'd be honored," said Mark with a wink. "You should wear that black dress of yours, the one that shows..." He demonstrated with his hands, and Nina laughed. "I can get my good suit." Sobering a little, he added, "We should bring Trevor and Erin too. They're smart and they're observant, and they're good in a crisis." Very good, as it happened, but there was no need to dwell on the fine details in front of someone who wasn't in their circle of trust, even if she was in his. Kind of. It was complicated. "Your schoolmates. Yes, hmm, I remember them." Nina and Mark had never actually discussed where those superheroes had come from when the Nazi transdimensional assassin had come to kill her for her father's defiance. "All right, I'll make sure there are two tickets..." That evening, with Nina off at her late-night class, Mark called Trevor's 'workphone', figuring that if he got lucky, he'd catch Erin and Trevor together. And as it happened, he did!
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April 2012 Steve Murdock didn't have a lot of friends, which was really no surprise. It wasn't that he was anti-social so much as social and he simply weren't on the same team. Of course, that meant when it was time for something important, as in subtly finding out how he should go about pursuing a romantic relationship with his new girlfriend, he had a difficult task before him. Though watching television had taught him a great many things about how the people of Earth-Prime socialized with each other, as had occasional invisible observation, he just didn't know enough. He did know some things, however; a man looking for advice on women certainly never went to his female friends, so Miss Americana, Fleur de Joie, and Dragonfly were out; he'd have to talk to the men he knew like Jack of all Blades and Gabriel. He knew how men were supposed to talk to each other, in smoky bars where sporting events were playing on the television, but one thing he didn't know was how to contact all the people he cared about directly. He'd made a conscious effort to avoid learning the secret identities of his fellow supers, which while good for his peace of mind did make it tough when he wanted to talk to them. So instead, using the new cellphone Gina had repaired for him, he sat in a quiet corner of the bar and called the contact number he'd exchanged with Jack of all Blades after they'd had a few adventures together. This was a social call, but Jack hadn't mentioned this was a line for emergencies only. Some heroes preferred only to be called for emergencies. (Some had stressed that to him specifically) "Hello, Jack?" he said, his slightly mechanical voice sounding much more confident than the last time he'd spoken to the swordsman. "It's...Steve."
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Amongst all the drama, be it world-threatening or simply teenage growing pangs, it was often easy to forget that Claremont was first and foremost a place of education, albeit one with a truly unique curriculum. Given the broad spectrum of powers and abilities the students were there to hone, it simply wasn't feasible to have an expert in each and every area on staff. Instead, part of the senior students' own development involved aiding their underclassman peers where they were able. So it was that Eve Martel, the supremely talented telepath and telekinetic better known in some circles as Sage, had organized something of a study group with two of the school's junior students who both hailed from outside the United States and were versed in the application of mind over matter. While Kristin Jones, the redheaded Australian who sometimes went by Glow, had by far more raw telekinetic ability than the spectral Deceased-Canadian Kimber Storm, the gregarious Ghost Girl, the object of the exercise was in fact fine control. Eve had instructed them to meet her after afternoon classes in the campus' zen garden, a secluded and rarely visited spot free from distractions. Unfortunately, tranquility was not one of the words most commonly associated with Kimber, who bobbed up and down excitedly in the air as she arrived, the light of the waning sun washing through her translucent blue form, obscuring her outline from the right angle. Although it was a perfectly calm day, the poltergeist's hair rose and fell as though caught in an unseen wind or current. "Am I early?" she chirped eagerly.
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March 7, 4:30pm Even though the Manor was locked as usual, Erin’s key let her in the kitchen door, or rather the door to the largest of the many kitchens. She’d come bearing gifts, and cat as well, a sure sign that she planned to stick around for awhile. Charlie wasn’t the independent soul that his father was, and he pouted if left alone too long, even with sufficient kitten chow. Even now he wasn’t too happy sitting on her shoulder, with her hair still wet from the shower she’d grabbed after work. “Trevor?†she called, her voice echoing in the silent hallways of the Hunter Estate. “Are you home yet? I brought a pizza!†Pausing at the counter, she filled Charlie’s food and water dishes and left him to dig in.
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April 2012 It's a typical day at Hallomen's Advanced Experts. The boss is working on a consulting project sent her way from Blackstone Prison, where a seized artifact from a long-imprisoned prisoner has begun to malfunction. Dr. Gateway was briefly a terror in the early 1990s; a former archeologist whose alien battlesuit allowed him to banish his enemies into the Zero Zone, Gateway actually soloed against the Freedom League for a while before Daedalus succeeded in deactivating his stolen technology and freeing the policemen, bank tellers, and superheroes he imprisoned there. Gateway's been in jail ever since, the death of one of his early test subjects having given him a life sentence. With his suit deactivated and the man himself in jail, he had slipped out of the public eye. Until now. It's coming up on the second time the Gateway suit will become active in Mara's custody, and while she works on it, her two top security guards are hanging around in the event that the formerly dangerous piece of supertech comes to life in an inopportune moment. You can't be too careful when it comes to get sucked into another dimension. Looking confident in his security guard uniform, Steve stood by the door with Erin, drinking break room coffee from his new mug. "Your young man's blend is very flavorful," he commented to Erin as he watched Mara at work. "You should give him my thanks."
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Saturday, March 4th, 2012 2:42 PM Freedom Aquarium The parking lot of the Freedom Aquarium was rather crowded for so early in the year, but the blue and chrome bus with FCTA printed on the side pulled up to the curb in front of the main entrance, and two dozen young men and women of every description piled out. Moving among them, keeping order, where two older gentlemen. Leeroy Hawke was taller than most of the other people on the bus, and dressed in slacks and a turtleneck he still had an air of quiet power around him. He seemed to have an eye everywhere, reaching out to stop a bully from flicking spitballs at an underclassman one moment and the next, catching a young woman as she was knocked off her feet by the press. "Watch yourself, Kirsten," he said to the girl as he set her back on her feet. "Everyone, just take it slow! We'll have time to see all the exhibits, I promise." Jesse Perry was almost the exact opposite of his coworker. Short, with a paunch, and wearing a tweed-with-leather-patches outfit straight out of Ben Stein's closet, he has been seated near the back of the bus with Leeroy but was somehow out of the bus and on the sidewalk before anyone else. He kept both eyes on the students as they filed out of the bus, making sure no one wandered too far off. "Everyone, just keep together. We need to make sure everyone gets off the bus, first." He spotted a junior in a pea coat and jeans. "Morgan Crowe! Make sure the underclassmen don't wander off!"
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Freedom College, Freedom City, USA Friday, January 13th, 2012 The last class of the day had let out, at least as far as Carson was concerned. And he was glad; the first week back after winter break was always hard. The students never wanted to focus. Luckily, he'd managed to get them involved in a few simple exercises and focus that nervous energy into something other than spitballs and love notes. "Just another day in the office..." "Mister Keefe, sir?" "Hm? Oh, yes, uh...Jessica, wasn't it? What can I help you with?" "Well, I just wanted to give you this book. It's got some short skits I'd like to try doing in class this semester." "Hm. I'll take a look and see what I can work in. Let me see....That's odd. I've never heard of this author before." "You wouldn't have, not here." "What? Why...oh, my head." The contact chemical that coated the paperback took hold, and Carson started to bonelessly collapse. "Jessica" calmly caught him in deceptively small arms, before pulling out an odd-looking metal and plastic disc that she slapped on the middle of the teacher's chest, before gently laying him on the ground and gathering his papers up. The disc started to beep faster and faster, but she still had enough time to extract his keys. "I'll make sure these get put away, Sir. It's the least I can do..." And with a flash of light and a sound like tearing silk, Carson Finbar Keefe was gone from Earth Prime.
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Second Week of January 2012 Christmas and New Years were not a particularly meaningful holiday for Sharl, lacking a cultural understanding of the holiday and a chronological mindset that made the change between one year and the next relevant to his day-to-day life. It wasn't even like he'd gone onto a new grade at Claremont yet, something that made all this talk of school years seem terribly archaic. But things had gone pretty well for him; he'd gotten a house upgrade from Miss Americana that he was still customizing; the incredible, sinful luxury of another five rooms to himself, not to mention a simulated animal to tend to, was still something he was trying to wrap his mind around. Home and how different it was from Claremont had been on his mind lately: he'd managed a trip back home during the school holiday to visit his family in Tronik and to do some more superheroing in his home city, where the "mysterious Citizen" had gotten a chance to pull off some pretty impressive feats of derring-do, culminating in a spectacular rescue of a sinking exploratory ship on its way to visit the new set of islands Leroj had helped raise at the end of the previous month. No one on the outside had seen that, and maybe none of them would care, but he'd still felt good about it coming out. And that, he thought, had been that until Mr. Summers had summoned him and all of Young Freedom into his office the first day they were all back on campus after the Christmas break. Even with Mrs. Harcourt, by no means Sharl's favorite teacher, as their chaperone, Sharl was inordinately happy: they were going back to the Sanctum, the place that held his home, and with any luck his friends would be able to see it for themselves! With his usual laptop as his companion, Sharl put aside his house and went to work studying the school's files on the Sanctum again, heedless of the Arctic winter outside their jetplane window. After all, the Sanctum was one of the great repositories of super-tech on Earth, as well as the home of his home city: he'd better know something about it!
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The building wasn't much to look at, if one was being brutally honest. Like a lot of structures in the West End, it was two storeys tall, designed to be a place for business on the ground level with small living apartments on the second floor. The space for a sign was empty and evidently had been for a while if the weathering was any indication, not to mention the birds' nest tucked in between the top of the large placard and the window sill above it. The large windows were filthy enough to make them nearly opaque and the hinges on the door were probably going to need to be replaced altogether. Despite all that, the young, dusty brown haired man in the wool-lined coat standing on the sidewalk in front of it, keys spinning around his finger jauntily, grinned broadly enough to show pearly teeth as he regarded the building. "Perfect."
