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  1. Trevor Hunter paced back and forth is hurried stops and spurts, tugging forcefully at the collar of a dress shirt that didn’t fit very well. Despite having access to custom tailored clothes, the wealthy fifteen year old was all too aware that his tall, gangly frame made it difficult to craft garments he was truly comfortable in. His growth spurt over the last few year or so had put him the better part of a foot above most of his classmates, but with his width lagging behind, the dark haired teen gave the impression of being made largely of elbows. It wasn’t the clothes that had Trevor upset, even as he threw his tie to the floor of his grandfather’s estate on the outskirts of Freedom City. His grandfather, who had once been the hero known as Midnight, the shadowy mystery man armed with a pistol full of obscuring mist of his own chemical design. His grandfather, who, until minutes ago, had been the only person who knew the effect his prolonged exposure to the gas had ultimately had on his grandson. An effect made evident by the twin wisps of inky vapour rising from the corners of the boy’s eyes where tears should have been welling up. Rubbing futilely at his face with the back of one sleeve, Trevor made a low, inarticulate sound in the back of his throat. The normally reserved youth had no way of knowing if this particular change had been part of his mutation all along of if it was an example of yet further changes to his body. The mist didn’t sting his eyes, but it did block his vision, forcing him to jerk back and forth to avoid the cloud trailing from them, even as he felt a dull, childish shame for the show of weakness. â€Not even human...†he coughed out darkly, a voice recently descended into a rich baritone made thready and uneven by his fitful breathing. â€Freak,†he spat, a guttural syllable filled with bitter disgust. That was what she’d called him, and as taken aback as he’d been, Trevor was hard pressed to argue the point. â€Broken thing.†That assessment was all his own, as the same frustration he felt when a mechanism he was tinkering with just wouldn’t work crashed angrily back and forth against his naturally stoic demeanour. He felt so foolish for telling her, for trusting her, even as he despaired at losing his best friend and scorned his own naivety in turn. He knew he was smart, at least; he should have known better. Should have... With a grimace that pulled his thing, pale lips back from bared teeth, the teen punched the nearest wall, clattering the portraits hanging on it and bruising his knuckles. Ignoring the pain, he stood still for a beat, then another, as the cloud of mist wrapped around him and his breathing slowed to a steadier rhythm. Slowly, he backed up against the wall he’d struck and slid down to the floor, wrapping his lean arms around his knees. There was a soft, shuddering intake of breath from the little ball of light consuming darkness, then even more quietly a voice. â€...why, Maeg?†After that, the long, darkened hallway was silent for a very long time.
  2. November 2010 It was early November when all the members of Young Freedom, well, all the ones on campus regularly, were summoned to the headmaster's office. Though some arrived fearlessly and others with trepediation, all of them were met with Duncan Summers and a man who was a familiar face for all of them but especially familiar to those who had helped save his life. King M'Balla, the White Lion, had recovered entirely from his trip to the Lost World, and looked a charismatic, chiseled figure in a neatly-pressed suit. His voice was low and dignified as he greeted all the teens by name, his handshake firm without being bone-crushing. He had a very faint accent, but his English was otherwise perfect. "It is a pleasure to see all of you again, and some of you for the first time." He smiled, nodding to Midnight among others. "I am an old hand with super-teams. I know how quickly you come and go. I have come to America for two reasons. One to thank you again for coming to my defense earlier, and the second to invite you to Dakana as my guests." "Mmm." Summers folded his hands, looking up at the students as they found their seats. "The White Lion and I have arranged for the members of Young Freedom to spend the week before Thanksgiving in Dakana as guests of the King. This will be a working vacation," he added with a firm look at everyone, "one in which I will expect all of you to return with a report on your observations of the kingdom, but...it will be a vacation nonetheless, as you will be excused from all but ongoing assignments for that week. Are there any questions?" Mark raised his hand and M'Balla's eyebrows furrowed briefly before he said, "Yes, Mr. Lucas?" "Are we going to see Lion, the great and powerful spirit of the people, who empowers the line of kings as his champion? Or travel to Ayesha the Immortal's realm and battle the great enemy of the Lion clan, the immortal Egyptian princess who ever seeks a worthy man as match for her great and deathless realm as co-ruler?" "....no," said the king gently, wincing ever so slightly. "I prefer to fight my own battles, rather than send the sons of my old friends and their friends to fight my enemies for me. We will climb the slopes of Kilimanjaro, dig for daka crystals with our own hands, and see the world outside of Freedom for a little while. I can promise you all adventure, but danger will, inshallah, pass us all by this time."
  3. Since early November, Erin had been called much less to watch little JJ and with a good deal more forewarning for normal things like 'date nights' or an afternoon of extra work, rather than several days a week. The Faretti's themselves had seemed happier and getting handed over JJ's care by Taylor had grown a lot more common. The house that Erin provided directions too led them first through the palatial estates of North Bay, each more grand than the last. It was one of the oldest and wealthiest parts of Freedom City and the drive took them down a street that began winding its way up the hill. The estate that they came too was... a little different from the rest of the environs. It was old, certainly, and expensive but the entire thing was surrounded by a large stone wall with a large wrought iron gate that opened without Erin having to buzz in. She'd called ahead, thankfully, so they were expected. Once the gate shut, the lawns looked a little overgrown and the manor itself was old and with gothic stylings. Behind the house there was even a graveyard to complete the spooky environment with cracked tombstones and even a mausoleum. The drive, however, was well kept gravel. The front door was thick and heavy, with an overly elaborate knocker attached to it.
  4. Outwardly, Trevor Hunter appeared to the very model of self-assured composure. With hid thumbs hooked into pockets of his deep blue jeans and a faded ochre t-shirt fitted to his lanky frame, the tall young man walked smoothly though the Claremont dorms with a his ever present fedora tipped low over his forehead and radiating a calm confidence. Inwardly, however, a kernel of mixed excitement and nervousness he couldn't quite squash rolled about in his stomach as stopped to knock on one of the hallway's many doors, adjusting his collar absently as he waited.
  5. After the city wide epidemic of rampaging zombies had abruptly come to a halt, Trevor had wanted to speak with Erin immediately, concern for how she was handling the severe trauma competing with guilt for prioritizing the his mission over her well being. He was fairly sure she understood his reasons, but even after taking out some aggression on the undead hordes, or perhaps because of it, logic was still taking a backseat in his thought processes. Unfortunately, her single-minded insistence on scouring all of Freedom personally to ensure the threat was ended forced him to wait. His endurance simply couldn't match Erin's, and after the evening's exertions and having forgone sleep for the better part of a week, he was in no condition to keep up with her. Days passed, and urgency slowly turned to awkwardness as the time continued to elapse. The dark haired young man finally steeled himself against his own angst, unwilling to let the issue fester to be brought up at a later, unknown and likely inopportune moment. Wearing his matte black jacket unbuckled over a light brown shirt despite the autumn chill, Trevor headed outside, a pair of covered travel mugs in hand, the brim of his fedora pulled down over the oval lenses of his sunglasses.
  6. October 31st, 2001 (Sunday) As the black spots of the teleport faded, Trevor found himself in a small oasis among the chaos the dead rising vengefully against the living. The stink of death was heavy in the air even through the filter built into his featureless black mask, mixed with the acrid scent of an exploding gas main and the palpable stench of fear. For a moment, the black clad figure hesitated, distracted by a turmoil of emotions that had no place on the battlefield. Self doubt and bitter reproach whispered in his ears, made the escrima sticks feel heavy in his hands. The one of the shambling corpses turned its milky white eye to look at him, and the world through his lenses crystallised into a darker shade of red. His body sprang into action, guided by muscle memory and powered by a cold, articulate rage as he leapt through flame and ash a bring a matte black stick crashing across a brittle skull with devastating effect. A treaded boot forced a second zombie back for the instant it took the dual weapons to come down again with a crack. A handful of small spheres whipped out in a broad arc, igniting with explosive force as they connected with the undead mob as its members toppled in sickening, flaming heaps. Midnight was only peripherally aware of his teammates’ assaults nearby, his attention focused with pinpoint fervour on the next target, when a plaintive cry reached his ears. On the other side of the thickest mass of monsters, a small child huddled against a brick wall, cut off from the rest of the fleeing civilians, eyes wide with terror. The sound drew the zombie’s attention as well, and they began to advance on easy prey. A pressure stud released a three inch long blade from the tip of one escrima stick even as Midnight’s arm whipped forward, sending the spear hurtling through the air to skewer the back of a desiccated, exposed brain. Sprinting forward, he cleared a path with his remaining stick, abandoning it as it stuck in the tar-like visage of a moaning horror. Another handful of incendiary pellets cleared another foot of distance, even as a fallen but still moving creature ripped at the bottom of his jacket with boney digits. Ignoring it, Midnight pressed on through the throng, increasingly aware of his deadly race with each step. Obsidian and blood red eyes narrowed as a flick of his wrists extended short, steel points from the fingers of his gloves. Grasping hands pulled at his side, and he responded by raking talons through a rotting throat, ripping off a chunk of flesh before a second brutal strike with the butt of his other palm knocked the rest of the zombie’s head clean off its shoulders. In the visceral melee, his tattered jacket was pulled open, ragged edges flaring of behind him as he moved until he stood towering above the cowering child, a dark, indistinct figure of shadow. It took the space of several heavy breaths for Midnight to realise that the zombies in the immediate are had been irradiated, as his friends covered his flank and blind spots. Even so, the small boy recoiled from the inky wraith looming over him, terrified. Stepping back, Midnight turned away, pausing as he did. He considered telling the child not to be afraid, as a nearly hysterical woman ran through the street to retrieve her son, but decided to remain silent, stalking back toward his teammates. After all, it was only natural. Deep down, everyone was afraid of the dark.
  7. In our world, when his son and his friends rejected the Utopia he'd built, a grief-stricken Rick Lucas recognized the error of his ways and fled into the multiverse in shame. But in a world perilously close to this one, when his son and his allies attempted to overthrow the worldwide dictatorship he'd constructed in order to put the Lucas family in command of the world, a bitter, vengeful Rick Lucas fled into the multiverse to plot revenge on his wastrel son and his callow gang of hooligans at the Syndicate Academy Two Weeks After the Events of 'A Trip Between Two Worlds' Duncan Summers listened as a rather battered Psyche told her story, the young telepath recovering far better than most students would have after the experience she'd had. Erin's sudden nighttime assault had nearly killed the sleeping Alex, only Psyche's incredible mental speed letting her reach into Erin's mind and shut down her attacker. It had only taken him a few minutes of evaluation to confirm what Nurse Joy and Ms. Harcourt had already told him: this Erin White, with the blood under her fingernails and haggard face, even in psychically-induced sleep maintained by the best psychics at the school, was not the Erin White of their world. And that particular disease seemed to be catching. Luckily, the school was prepared for that. Though dopplegangers of Kid Cthulu, Rift, Midnight II, and Edge had all appeared in bursts of magical energy around campus, the new inter-universal security system that Mrs. Harcourt had installed in previous weeks had worked like a charm. Though the dopplegangers had unfortunately escaped from campus, he was completely confident that Young Freedom, the Alterni-Teens, and the Next-Gen would track down the warped, morally inverted doubles of his students. It's a good thing we're prepared for incursions, thought Summers, bending down to pet the unhappy cat curling his orange tail around the headmaster's cane. If we were oriented towards offense rather than defense, who knows how long they could have kept up the imposture? -- Mark Lucas rarely had particularly elaborate dreams. Indeed, usually he didn't remember anything about them. Tonight, though, his REM visions were exceptionally unsettling. He was confronted by a vision of his father: not the father he knew, but a grim, furious version of Rick Lucas with a goatee and eyepatch, wearing a black and red leather uniform as he confronted his son. His 'father' informed him that he and his friends were being tested, tested to see if good really was better than evil, if courage was a stronger talent than cleverness. He wasn't alone, he realized: Erin, Trevor, Blake, and Warren were all there too, each as paralyzed and mute as he was in the dreamscape! Before he could respond, he was suddenly plummeting into a deep black void... -- Mark woke up in bed, starting awake with a cry, and then nearly fell out of bed entirely when he realized he wasn't alone in his room. Or his bed. "Dreaming about that witch again?" asked Daisy Gibbons. The beautiful blonde prom queen yawned and stretched, giving Mark a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't worry, Pathos and Assault aren't going to harsh your buzz today, not unless those Loonies get their heads handed to them ahead of schedule. Are you getting up?" "Uh...yes?" Mark looked around wildly, staying in control of himself by sheer force of will. Don't panic. Figure out what's going on. Daisy wasn't actually naked, thank God, but she was in a skimpy harem-girl outfit that didn't look like comfortable pajamas. She had scars on her body that looked new, some on her stomach and some on her back, where a large S-brand was clearly visible. A more thoughtful man might have panicked, but Mark was all about rolling with what was going on. "All right," allowed Daisy, her bare shoulders relaxing as she slid out of the king-sized bed and headed for the kitchen. When the hell did I get a kitchenette!?! thought Mark as Daisy went in, the door she opened showing that Mark and Mike's dorm room had been transformed into a suite as big as a luxury hotel's. "Bacon and eggs as usual, and..." She stuck her head back in the room and gave Mark a stare. "When did you shave off your beard?" she asked him. "I'm trying something new," Mark improvised as he sat up, trying to figure out where his pants were. Surely all this black leather couldn't be his. "Do you like it?" he asked her, giving her a half-smile. "I like anything you do," Daisy told him without hesitation, something behind her eyes closing off as she stuck her head back in the kitchen. Something in her eyes even got through to Mark, and he felt a little sick. Oh God, did I actually go to Hell this time? C'mon, none of it was illegal and everyone had fun! When Daisy was gone, Mark started looking for his clothes in a hurry, and his commlink to go with it. Last time he'd gone to Hell, his friends had come to rescue him. If that dream had been a reality...well, he owed them all his life already.
  8. As the sun began creeping over the horizon, Trevor Hunter was balanced on the gymnastic equipment on the Claremont campus, one booted foot perched on a balance beam while the other hovered in the air. His shirt hung nearby on a sawhorse next to an empty mug and his fedora as he remained perfectly still for a long moment before abruptly swinging down so that he was hanging upside down on by the same foot, hands shooting forward to grasp the next bean and vault him into an aerial somersault. Inwardly, he kept his mind studiously blank, concentrating solely on the exercise, the sheer physicality helping him achieve a crystalline clarity.
  9. Autumn brought cooler weather and shorter nights, but the darkness and the late hour wasn't too much of a bother. The garage at the Claremont Academy was well-lit, and the two people who occupied it didn't need a lot of sleep. Erin sat on the floor of the garage and passed tools to Trevor, who was hip-deep underneath the chassis of her blue truck, tinkering with the fuel injector manifold. Erin's mechanical skill was still that of a knowledgeable amateur, but it was nice to sit in the peace and quiet of the garage with him, and interesting to watch him work. They didn't get a lot of peaceful and quiet time together. "So, how fast is this gonna go when you're done with it?" she asked.
  10. Earth-XX September 3, 2010 Trailing her usual aura of good feelings and cheerful optimism, Marcie Lucas walked through the halls of Clairemont Academy with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. For once she wasn't in uniform, either her Edge costume or the blue and gold of Clairemont's cheerleading squad; rather in a pink sweater and blue jeans that wouldn't have looked out of place on a girl her age back in the 1950s. Maybe her mother's disappearance a few months earlier had changed her life for the worse, but she wasn't going to let that get her down! Books under her arms, she headed into the nearly-empty science building. "Hey, Aaron!" she said with a cheerful wave as she caught sight of the hunky loner Aaron White, walking into the same corridor of the science wing that she was. Aaron wasn't exactly her type: she preferred guys like that hunky Zach Harris, even if he was a little too angry for her tastes, but she could see why so many of her friends secretly had the hots for the dimension-hopping powerhouse. He certainly filled out his uniform well! She ran after him, her Sketchers squeaking slightly on the tiled floor. "Are you taking the expanded physics class too? Isn't it cool that-" - Earth-Prime September 3, 2010 "...we can get out of the whole first semester of senior physics just by being here for a few experiments! I guess it's more important for us to learn about super-science than boring stuff like physics." Mark grinned at Erin as they headed inside. "Looks like we're here first." Ms. Harcourt was there to greet them both, nodding a polite hello. "Mr. Lucas, Ms. White! Nice to see both of you." She smiled. "I always appreciate volunteer assistants. I'll be especially glad to have someone here who's as resistant to trans-dimensional radiation as you are, Erin. Why don't the two of you get started setting up the equipment," she said, pointing to the large Y-frame set against one wall, "and I'll get the others going when they arrive."
  11. A couple of weeks after prom, Mark invited his friends over to his house. Well, the people who still were his friends: he wasn't really talking much to Eddie these days, but most of his colleagues from Young Freedom were on the list. He was standing outside the door of the Lucas house to greet them when they arrived, the lawn looking just a little grubbier and the house a little dingier than when the Young Freedom members had been there last. Mark himself was out of costume, but also out of the black, depressing clothes he'd been wearing most everywhere but prom for the last couple of months. In a white shirt and slacks, he looked downright respectable.
  12. Blackstone Prison is what allows the citizens of Freedom City to sleep at night. They know that all of the super villains Freedom City seems to attract are safely locked up inside the formidable walls of Blackstone. That security blanket was shattered as a large scale break out attempt larger than any since the Terminus Invasion began mere moments ago. The Blackguards were fighting valiantly, but it was only a matter of time before they were overrun. Prisoners were already making it to the surface, there only saving grace was that the least powerful of the villains were kept closest to the surface. The longer the prisoners went uncontained, the more likely the guards were to be overrun by Freedom's most wanted.
  13. As he climbs out of the taxi in front of the massive gate tower that mark the front of the prestigious Claremont Academy, a tall, dark-skinned, blonde haired young man glances around, a bit hesitant. The whole place is a little upscale for what he was used to, and it's not like his grades really warranted a place like this, but Mister Albright had insisted. "I don't see why I should go to a boarding school, let alone a boarding school a mile from my house." "Now, John, Claremont Academy isn't an ordinary school. It's run by an old friend of mine, Duncan Summers. He's made the school into a place where young men and women can learn to use their powers responsibly, and to work with others, as well as getting a good education. In the long run, this will be good for you. A chance to make new friends who understand what you're going through, teachers who understand what you're dealing with, and training that ensures you'll be ready for it. Not to mention, it's far more secure in case someone does try to follow you home or attack you when you're resting." "Well..." "And I'm sure there are plenty of girls your own age who'll be happy to meet the new Beacon, dressed in ways that seem absolutely scandalous to someone my age..." "That's exploitative and insulting to my inte- let me go get my bags, old man." Signing in with the security desk inside the tower, John is quickly processed and directed inside. "You just need to find the administration office, they've got your paperwork already, they just need you to pick up your things and get assigned a room for the semester." "Alright, thanks for the help!" Bag tucked under one arm, he practically bounces out of the room, into the main quad, smiling brightly and breathing deep as he takes in the campus itself... "So... This is it, huh? I don't hate it..."
  14. After the meeting with James to set up the new team, Erin procrastinated for days before going to see Trevor. First it was too soon, then it was the thing with Trevor's eyes, but she eventually had to woman up and do it. If they were all going to be on a team together, it was only fair that Trevor be... not warned, she told herself. It wasn't like James was going to come after Trevor and try to stab him, not when he was in his right mind, anyway. Apprised, maybe, that was a better word. Trevor should be apprised of James' mixed emotions, even though she was pretty sure what James had told her had been told in confidence, but it wasn't really fair to make her keep that a secret when they were all going to be working together, especially with a telepath on the team who would probably suss it out in about two seconds flat once she started in with the mindreading and it was certainly the last thing any of them needed to have on their minds when they were going into dangerous and lifethreatening situations on other planets because that was just stupid-- Erin broke off that increasingly unproductive train of thought and went to go find Trevor already. Playing a hunch, she headed for the school garage. He spent a lot of time there with his bike, and if he wasn't there, maybe she could go for a drive instead! Damning herself for a coward, she stalked into the garage, and was half-relieved, half-dismayed to hear the sounds of engine work coming from the stall where Trevor usually kept his bike. It was hot outside, hot enough to have her in the vibrantly colored shorts and top she'd gotten from the amusement park last summer, but the garage was air conditioned and pleasant. Deliberately relaxing her gait, she headed in the direction of the noise. "Hey," she called, "you busy?"
  15. Trevor Hunter brought his hand down hard on the shrill alarm clock next to his bed with an annoyed grunt, and let his eyes drift open slightly. Immediately regretting it, he threw the outstretched arm over his face, brushing through the small cloud of midnight mist he'd instinctively released to block out the offending rays shining through the window of his dormitory room. Casting about with his free hand, he located the pair of sunglasses he'd recently taken to wearing and stiffly donned them, rolling cramped shoulder blades with a mild grimace. The young man realized that he was still wearing the pants from the day before, having barely managed to toss his shirt into the growing heap of laundry in the corner of the room before collapsing into bed. Grudgingly, he admitted that he was probably pushing himself too hard; even given his trained stamina and copious amounts of caffeine, he couldn't keep up his current sleep schedule, or lack thereof, without increasing consequences. Hauling himself to his feet, Trevor reached into the open closet to grab a dark blue dress shirt from a hanger, squinting as he threw it on and waited for his eyes to adjust to the daylight. His time at Claremont had added a significant amount of lithe muscle to his wiry frame; though he was still notably lanky, the youth was slowly filling out to match his substantial height. Suppressing a curse as he accidentally stepped on a loose piece of machinery that had strayed from his workbench, Trevor continued to get dressed. Opting the run a hand once through his hair before covering it with his beaten fedora rather than a shower under harsh fluorescent lights, the teen stepped out into the hallway, making his way towards the common room and rubbing his eyes distractedly as he went. Hopefully a brief walk would alleviate some the pains left from an awkward night's sleep.
  16. It was a solemn affair that was filling up Freedom Hall today, filled with the sort of mixed crowd that only a Freedom City gathering would engender. And this gathering was unusual even for Freedom City. There were a few Golden Agers left but those that were able to, were in attendance. Ace Danger, the newly redeemed Bombshell among others. Then there were also the heroes whose legacies stretched back to the era of the war who were here with relatives or on the behalf of relatives. Today, they celebrated the life time achievement on one of the Golden Age heroes on his hundredth birthday, the charming Spaniard El Fuego also known as Don Leon Montoya de Castille. Now, long since retired and with great grand children. Still the super-science that gave him his amazing abilities had helped preserve his body so he looked a remarkably fit seventy or so. Bombshell, aka Natalya Browning, like many of the veterans was in her dress uniform rather than black tie or costume. She wore the navy blues under a silver sash that stretched from her right shoulder down to her left hip, with several medals adorning the breast of the uniform. It wasn't about showing off. Actually, for the few who were able to read the blonde's body language under her careful facade, she was slightly uncomfortable in the outfit at this point in her life. However, showing up in anything less would have been disrespectful to a man she'd fought alongside so many years ago. The ceremony wasn't overly long and was much more informal than the appearance would suggest, with the old guard that remained going up to volunteer anecdotes and stories. In short order, the speeches were wrapped up and there was simply mingling and some dancing. The music, of course, was to the taste of the guest of honor, as after all - it was the celebration of his life.
  17. Given it was a summer class, it was far from required but it certainly helped give those students in attendance a leg up. Not to mention it was certainly not a class you’d find in any educational institution outside of Claremont. Xeno-linguistics, Xeno-diplomacy, astrophysics as well as a little smattering of other sciences were the focus of the class. Despite what some might consider the topic to be, the class was anything but boring. Nor was it exceptionally hard though it often went a little over the scheduled time. Dark Star was, and this was not entirely unusual given his busy schedule, a few minutes late for class. He floated down through the ceiling. “Good afternoon class. My apologies for my tardiness. There was a small earthquake in China.†He looked around, making sure everyone was present and telekinetically marking off his attendance sheet. “Now, today’s lesson will be a mix of topics. Please bring your notebook and something to write with.†He nodded to himself before continuing. “We’re going to a lovely little world just on the other side of the core. In fact we’ll be visiting this particular planet each class over the next week or so. The local geology is quite interesting. Rhysium is an extremely rare mineral that many species use in construction of starship weapons and armor. It doesn’t exist on Earth outside of the odd asteroid. On this world, it exists in abundance. If the planet wasn’t so far out of the way and hard to detect it would certainly have been a mined long before now. We’re going to study it in its natural environment.†“Now, the indigenous people will not be able to understand a word you’re saying. Part of today’s assignment, in addition to the mineral studies will be in Xeno-linguistics and diplomacy. The people are essentially non-violent. You will take some steps in basic communication attempts, learning to convey basic concepts. Learning to communicate without common ground is an enlightening experience.†He gestured, opening a wormhole. “Any questions or is everyone ready?â€
  18. James nodded to himself as he took a seat. He’d sent the message to the others once he was ready. He didn’t want to meet at Claremont, not with nigh-omnipotent Summers there. He hadn’t said much in the message besides that he needed to meet with them about something relating to the “L†event. At the moment only Persephone and Phantom knew what he had in mind. While this wasn’t exactly super secret, it wasn’t something he planned on broadcasting either. This was more…off the books kind of thing. He waited for them in a parking lot of Dairy Queen, sitting on table and eating an ice cream.
  19. It took some doing, but if there was a student unaware of the end of the year party at the new AEON building, it wasn't for lack of trying. Now, while some students had... concerns over Alex being the entire decorating committee, when they arrived at the large ballroom near the top of the luxury building, those doubters were pleasantly surprised. The entire room was decked out in creams and dark blues, gold serving as the accent. It was both a nod to the school colors and an elegant color scheme for the high quality linens. There was a dance floor, of course, and a dj set up in the corner along with a small stage. In another corner, a photographer was set up to do professional photos. It was staffed with AEON personnell who had been gently coached to look the other way at any sudden displays of power. Alex had been over seeing the set up for much of the day, but she did vanish to her office to change and reappear shortly before the doors were scheduled to open. As tasteful as the ballroom was, it was no surprise that Alex was a bright spot of color in a dress that started in a butter yellow color at the neckline and slowly deepened to a deep red at the fluttering hem around her ankles. She was standing in the center of the dancefloor, looking up at the net of balloons attached to the vaulted ceiling, making certain that it wouldn't drop away early.
  20. Stepping smoothly out of the Pitchoo and onto the Claremont campus, Trevor was struck both by the genius of the airship's design and the absurdity of its aesthetics. At some point he was going to have to get Chris to introduce him to the craft's engineer, but for the time being, the brightly clad teenager seemed to be in a singular hurry, taking off again as soon as his passengers had disembarked. As the speck of green disappeared into the distance, Trevor regarded Eve out of the corner of his eye. --I believe we had a deal,-- he mentally sent to the telepath, the texture of his thoughts mild but steady.
  21. Once upon a time, before the end of the world, Erin White had been a much girlier girl. She'd had fun at sleepovers with her friends, giving and receiving makeovers and talking about boys. If everything hadn't gone careening off the rails, she would've gotten professional instructions from the Avon rep that Kathy's mom had booked for her birthday party, but even so, Erin could put on makeup without looking like a fool. But that had been in another lifetime, and she just didn't anymore. For a long time, there was absolutely no point in it, between one thing and another, and then, when she'd been released from quarantine and gotten used to being around girls who cared about their appearances, she had no money for that kind of thing. It was easier to pretend not to care and just make sure to keep her skin clean and avoid zits. Now, though, she had a job, sort of, and a scarily amazing dress, and she was going to a fancier party than anything she'd ever been invited to before. If there was ever a time, it was now. She wished Alex was around to help, but at the same time, doing it on her own protected her ego when she scoured clearance racks and tested what sort of products worked on super-resilient skin and hair. The curling iron and hair doo-dads she could borrow, at least. With Oliver watching encouragingly from the counter, she co-opted one of the girls' bathrooms on the day of the dance and spent literally most of the afternoon getting ready. Training and homework be damned, just this once. Maybe she had no chance of fitting in, but she wanted to at least look the part. All in all, she thought she did a fairly good job. After experimenting and deciding that she couldn't put her super-straight hair up in any sort of complicated arrangement by herself, she let it go and just curled the tendrils near her face, holding the rest back with a couple of sparkly rhinestone combs. The makeup was understated, it had to be with her pale skin, but it set off her lips and made her eyes look bigger and darker. She'd borrowed the shoes, too, strappy red heels that added inches to her height and a sway to her walk that she'd had to practice with a little. The dress, however, was doing most of the heavy lifting in the ensemble. Despite her concerns, Frank had done an amazing job on it, creating a calf-length showpiece in deep red charmeuse that clung as much as her costume did but somehow made her look a whole lot more feminine. He'd gone with a little more cleavage than she'd hoped, but not as much as she'd feared, so she figured they could call it even, since he'd also included the matching shorts and slit the skirt enough to let her work if she had to. Frank obviously knew his customers. The earrings and the necklace she'd found were rhinestones too, and people would probably notice at a shindig like this, but there was no help for that. They looked pretty. Oliver purred his approval as she looked at herself in front of the mirror one more time, getting up and stretching after his long stint playing moral support. "Wish me luck," she told him with a crooked smile. "I think I might be better off going into a war zone than doing this. But it'll be an adventure." Tucking her bat and her wallet into the little matching evening bag, she headed out to the common room to wait for Trevor.
  22. Date: 10 May 2010 Eve stared out the darkly tinted windows at the main entrance to Claremont Academy, lost in thought, stomach knotted with emotion [Anxiety/Curiosity]. A week ago she was still home in Orléans, France packing for her transatlantic flight. Less than a week ago her brother Nicholas introduced her to a man named Duncan Summers. And now she was here. “Eve?†Eve frowned a moment, the sound of her name jarring her thoughts back to the present. “Eve?†She turned away from the window and glanced at the man sitting across from her. Blond hair, green eyes and an easy smile, Nicholas Martel was the brother she barely knew and yet she could see faint hint of concern etched on his face. --Yes Nick?— “You’re worrying again. Just relax, everything will be fine. Besides, Faith is here so you shouldn’t have any problems meeting people.†Nicholas’s words had the effect he was looking for as he felt the anxiety fade from Eve until only the sense of curiosity remained, which soon vanished as well as she brought her emotion under control. Nick smiled, and tapped a knuckle against the window glass, “Off you go, then. I’ll send someone by later with the rest of your clothing.†Eve sighed and stepped out of the car as her door was opened by the driver. Turning back to glance at her brother, she smiled. --Thank you for coming, Nick.— “Of course. Oh, tell Faith that dinner Sunday will be at my place, will you?†Eve nodded at Nicholas while accepting her bag that the driver retrieved from the trunk of the car. She smiled at the driver and inclined her head before settling the bag over her shoulder and striding off toward the Academy. She didn’t look back.
  23. And then the kids were elsewhere. They were gone from the false reflection of Freedom Hall, standing instead on the lawn of the Lucas family house, standing among the rubble of the battlefield that had killed Mark just a few hours earlier. Except he was alive, standing there amid the group of teens, and Rick and a shell-shocked looking Martha were standing there just a few yards away. "Dad!" Mark broke from the crowd and ran to his father, just as Martha called her husband's name and ran to him. But even as they did so, the teens saw the black, inky shapes beginning to break away from Rick, flaring up into invisibility like rising soap bubbles as they left his body to flare upwards and vanish in the sky. "I'm sorry, I can't stay," he was apologizing over his family's pleas, arms around Mark and Martha both as he slowly, inexorably vanished elsewhere, some place beyond even James's dimensional vision. "The universe can't survive two reality warpers, not and let humanity keep its freedoms." He hugged Martha. "I'll see you again soon. I promise. I love you so much, heart of my heart..." He hugged Mark, his body now so thin as to be translucent. "I love you, Mark." He pulled back, on the edge of vanishing. "You've always been my hero, Mark! Always!" And with that, with a single, devastated cry from Mark's mother as she collapsed into her son's arms, Rick Lucas was gone.
  24. Flashes of ionic energy propelled the young heroes to an all-too-familiar place; the spots on the sidewalk where they'd watched Mark Lucas die just a few hours earlier. If time itself hadn't changed, that is. The Lucas house was a quiet, peaceful place in an idyllic neighborhood, just as it had always been in the real world for the heroes who'd visited there. An unfamiliar old man, looking as old as Trevor's grandfather in the real world, clad in a sweater-vest and bow-tie was trimming the hedges of the house next door, humming an amiable tune as he worked. There was no sign of the horrific events that had happened in this place earlier today, but of all the places in Freedom City, why would there be?
  25. Erin fidgeted as she waited outside by the garage for Trevor, wondering once again if this was a good idea. Agreeing to go to the dance with him had been an impulse, curiosity mixed with bravado and, she had to admit, the small thrill of being asked out at all. Trevor was fun to spend time with, and she was willing to bet he cleaned up really well. She hadn't really considered all that would be involved in cleaning herself up until it had been too late to back out without looking silly. And she did appreciate that he was going to help her not make a fool of herself, really. But a fitting at an actual tailor? Erin hadn't actually known there were such things. When she heard tailor, she tended to think of fairy tale folks who killed seven flies in one blow or something like that. She knew about designers, obviously, but the way Trevor talked, this wasn't quite the same. She wondered what she was getting herself into.
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