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September 20-27, 2011 Fleur, Freedom Angel, Psyche, Phalanx, Dark Star deal with the evacuees to Sanctuary

Alex was quick to slip inside the suite she shared with Erin, stepping into the bathroom first on the off chance her roommate wanted to linger to say good night to her boyfriend. Mike wasn't the type to try and sneak more than a chaste good night's kiss (Much to Alex's chagrin often enough) but she didn't begrudge Erin her moments. Alex was nothing if not patient. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she slipped into the main room in her robe and headed to crawl into the center of the giant bed, giggling as she sank into the mattress. "Best. Beds. Ever!"

“I can explain--†Bombshell continued to be yanked back and forth in the cage of eldritch and telekinetic power. She went quiet, hoping not for the first time that she wouldn’t end up pulled apart like a Christmas cracker. “While I do appreciate your help tonight, I really would like to remind you that this is both my building and thus the matter should be in my hands.†The petite telepathic powerhouse known as Young Freedom’s Psyche was saying as she gave a gentle tug on Bombshell’s wrists, trying to get her away. “In your hands to let her go? She’s a well known felon!†The enigmatic Phantom responded in her eerie rumble, tugging on Bombshell’s feet until she was slowly flipped sideways. Not for the first time did Bombshell wish that Scarab was able to read her at least for a mental SOS. “Ladies, please,†Bombshell interjected and when they both looked her direction, she couldn’t help but say, “There is enough of me to go around.†Well, at least they were both glaring at her now. “Look,†Bombshell continued with a disarming smile. “I’m not here to steal your McGuffin. Whatever it is. Tech, it’s not my thing. I’d offer to let you try and do the brain scan, but well, that’s never as easy as it looks. The Scarab can vouch for me. I’m new leaf now! All squeaky clean and PG-13.†And now there was simply patent disbelief. Bombshell grunted as she was tugged from the telekinetic grip on her wrists - which she strongly suspected the teenager had let go rather than risk injury and found herself thrust up against a wall. “Little bit of a hypocrite aren’t you?†Bombshell asked the cowled mystic, “Don’t you run with the grim and gritty types? Compared to them, I really am silver-plated.†Phantom’s low growl was her only response as that barb hit its mark. Comparing broken limbs to borrowed goods was really apples to oranges but it did make it hard to throw stones at the ex-thief. “Phantom,†it was the high, clear voice of the teenager now, floating slightly behind Phantom, her expression disapproving. “Scarab vouches for her, isn’t that enough?†“Is it enough for you?†Phantom responded, those burning white eyes boring into Bombshell as she held her against the wall of one of AEGIS’s research facilities. “It would be enough for me.†Psyche replied unhesitatingly, her clear gaze meeting Bombshell’s with that same eerie all-knowing serenity that Scarab had sometimes but in the Scarab, that was balanced by the heavy weight of years and years. Those wise eyes in the smooth face of a child unnerved Bombshell more than the angry wrath of any dimensional guardian ever would. Her gaze skittered away from Psyche’s and around the room, looking for an exit even as she said, “The girl’s right. You’re a bit behind the times, I’m afraid. I saw the lightshow disturbance when I was swinging by and thought I’d take a peek in to make sure that it wasn’t anything weird. Weird-er, I should say. It is Freedom City.†“That ‘lightshow’ was an interdimensional disturbance... I suppose that was nothing to do with you either,†Phantom rumbled angrily, her grip not loosening even a little bit as the cloak and shadows around her flared out. “Ah, no?†“It wasn’t, Phantom. That was an experiment by one of my research and development team.†Psyche spoke up again, quiet and patient but now she had the mystic’s attention. “I’m sorry, if I had any idea it would have been remotely successful, I would have registered the experiment with the appropriate boards but as it was, it is an unrepeatable anomaly that will be keeping that team busy for quite some time. I am very sorry if you were disturbed by it.†“Unrepeatable anomaly?†Phantom muttered, turning her hooded head but her grip slackened enough that Bombshell gave one quick wriggle and dropped out of the eldritch bands holding her against the wall and quickly dropped behind a stack of crates in the corner to hide. “No, no thank you. No more hugs,†Bombshell said, waving her gloved hands slightly, “This has all been very engaging. Apologies to the teen wonder for intruding. Now, if its quite alright with you all, I’ll be on my way....†“Now, wait just a second, goldilocks...†Phantom started, pivoting in place before Psyche said softly, “That’s enough, I think.†She glided between the two women and held her hands out, turning towards Phantom first, “I realize that yours is a thankless job and I’m very sorry that you were pulled out of whatever activity that you were in the middle of tonight for something that turned out to be a false alarm but that is my fault, not this woman’s. If you’d like to take someone to task, you’re welcome to let me know just what I did wrong. Alphabetically or categorically, your preference. But I am not about to stand by and watch you harass someone who is entirely innocent. It doesn’t matter if she committed a crime ten years ago or just last week. She did nothing wrong tonight and it is not for you to judge.†Then she pivoted towards Bombshell and fixed her with that intense look, “You, however, should not take advantage of the fact that you are innocent, to see just how far you can push the envelope. You are, in fact, trespassing. With likely mingled good intentions and plain old curiosity, but you know full well what it looks like, especially with your past. False outrage and mock innocence is beneath you.†Psyche paused and then lowered her hands to her sides slowly, “I think, perhaps, it might be time for you both to leave. I appreciate the intentions of both of you in coming here but things are well in hand and neither of your formidable skills are needed tonight. It has been a pleasure. I think you both know the way out?†Bombshell and Phantom both blinked before Bombshell slanted a glance towards Phantom and offered, “Out of the mouths of babes?†“I still don’t like you.â€

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."

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.

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.

"Good morning. Freedom City. Thank you for tuning in to WXAD Channel 5 News At Noon. I'm Charles Maxfield, filling in for Summer Gleason. Our top story today: Defense Secretary Robert Gates has yet to comment on the mysterious extraterrestrial attack on America's heartland a scant twenty-four hours ago. Sources say that no telescopes or satellites picked up any aircraft, alien or otherwise, in the vicinity, and no parties have yet come forward to claim responsibility for the energy beam which shot down from the sky and carved its way across a hundred miles of Nebraska farmland. Our- Excuse me. We have just received words of an emergency here in Freedom City..." Whatever its origin, 24 hours later, at 12:00pm exactly, the skies darkened around Freedom City as a 600ft-diameter cylinder of white-hot fire poured down from the sky, blasting a crater in the Wharton State Forest. The beam persisted, carving a trench as it raced along the ground toward the ocean. And in its path stands Freedom City. "Mayday, mayday, this is Captain Aaron Crichton, Flight 89 from Los Angeles to Newark! We just saw a bright flash of light, and whatever it was sheared off most of a wing! We are going down! Repeat, we are going down! And unless we get a miracle, we're going down in the middle of Freedom City!"

[floatr][/floatr] "Mayday! Mayday! Coast Guard, this is the Mary Jo Duffy! We need HELP!" "Roger that, Mary Jo Duffy, this is Dispatch, what is the nature of your emergency?" "SHARKS, lady! Friggin' SHARKS! Big sharks, small sharks, red sharks, blue sharks! If they keep head-butting the yacht like this, it's gonna tip over! And then my family's gonna be sharkshi-" "SIR! I need your location so I can send assistance." "We're right off the coast of Freedom City! I think that's Dixon Beach up there! Port Rega-AAHHH!!!" "Sir? Are you still there? Sir?" Summertime in Freedom City meant hot sun and cool surf. School was out, and the public beaches along the Great Bay were packed tightly with kids of all ages, from toddlers to college students. Dixon Beach was no exception, filled with revelers of all ages, looking only to beat the heat, blissfully unaware that their fun-in-the-sun was coming to a swift, finned, toothy end...

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.

Date: June 5th, 2010 (a Saturday) Sunrise 5:32am, sunset 8:21pm. High 92 oF, low 72 oF; clear, wind ~9mph SW. North Bay is a posh district of expensive waterfront homes and historic mansions owned by some of Freedom City's wealthiest families. It features exclusive yacht clubs and beachfront property, with few stretches of public beach. During the holiday season, North Bay's stately mansions are beautifully decorated and there are tours to see them. There were also a fair number of bodies buried up there. And not all of them rested peacefully. Which is why, slowly making his way up from his usual haunt of Lantern Hill, the Revoltin' Revenant known as Dead Head came to the area. He knew there were those he could help here, in his own unique fashion, and he intended to do so. So focused was he on his task, though, that he did not notice the layer of frost which covered the headstones of the small family plot he was shambling through....

There was a little bit of a ruckus going on in a small corner of the West End. AEON, the company that Alex had founded, made a living off of buying failing companies and turning them back around. When you looked at the big picture, it kept the economy in the city and re-infused small business with the sudden influx of cash they needed to stay afloat. Sometimes, however, people took exception to the idea of a big cooperation buying out the 'little guy'. They were even less predisposed to like it when the whispers of 'freak Terminus baby' started up. Alex had gone out to take a look at one of the small business that the company was considering making an offering for. A few angry words and suddenly Alex found herself surrounded with the start of a small mob. It would have been child's play for her to take over their thoughts and direct them safely elsewhere but it wouldn't have done a great deal to convince them that she wasn't a threat once they realized they'd been emotionally manipulated. So instead she was sitting patiently inside the slightly sparkly construct of a force bubble, watching it be pelted with produce. Calling for help was out of the question as her friends would just be angry. Alex wasn't angry. Just sad as she watched a head of lettuce spatter harmlessly against the outside of the force bubble and wondered how long it would take for them to wind down.

Alex was actually in the room they shared for once. Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders and she was dressed for bed in a light tanktop and shorts, both in clashy neon bright colors. She smiled at Erin and plopped herself down on the bed. "Things are going real well. I finally locked down a CEO to take over now that operations are getting larger. So hopefully I'll be around a little more. How's things here?" She flopped down on the loose pillows scattered on the rug, and looked up at Erin with wide and bright eyes.

Mark was gone from school for over a week after his father's disappearance, only occasionally emailing Erin or Chris to let them know he was all right. They were the friend who'd been there when his life had gone to Hell, after all, even if the absence of the others hadn't been their fault. So when he finally stepped back on campus in early June, just a week or so before Chris and James were due to graduate, he skipped his own room and headed upstairs to check on Erin and see if she was in. He was surprised to hear Alex's voice as he knocked on the door, but supposed it was good they were all there. He needed friends today, now, more than ever.

Date: a few days before February 8th, 2010 Earlier at an Undisclosed Location: Grim sat in her chair, legs dangling; the room was small, lit by a single recessed ceiling fixture, and contained nothing more than a table and four chairs, all cold metal and hard plastic. Her sensitive ears could tell the room was soundproofed, and her amazing nose detected little more than stainless steel and traces of Endust. A single sliding door allowed access to the lifeless chamber. Sure, she was restless, but when the boss tells you to wait, you wait; luckily, the young faeling had numerous ways to amuse herself. She conjured forth an oddly-shaped set of wooden blocks that she precariously balanced on the table in various positions, testing her reflexes, control and the lightness of her touch. And she waited some more...

Every now and then people wake up with that feeling in their stomach that the day is going to suck. They’ve got no reason for that belief. As far as they know, this is just another ordinary day, and most of the time it really is just a normal day. Other times however... you wish you had stayed in bed. Today will fall into the latter category. The early morning passes just like any other day. People get up, say good bye to their families and head off to work or to school or run some errands. But then, right before 11 o’clock things turned real sour, real fast. Monsters were lose in the streets, seemingly appearing out of no where. Heedless of the danger, the heroes sprang into action as the first explosion broke the early morning silence. The scene before you was one of wanton destruction. It was a rampage, nothing but the after effects of brutal savagery. And judging from the roars and shockwaves, there was still something out there hell bent on destroying everything it came across. Smoke was already billowing high into the sky, and you could taste the ash in the air.

With the rumble of a well tuned engine, a black motorcycle pulled up to Claremont Academy's main entrance. Of a noticeably older design, the bike's surfaces still gleamed thanks to studious maintenance. As it came to a stop, its rider, dressed in dark jeans and a protective jacket, swung a long leg over to dismount. Tossing his leather gloves into a saddlebag, he removed his helmet to reveal a young man with black hair a little too long to be well kempt and angular features that emphasized the lankiness of his frame. Clipping the helmet to a strap on the bike, he swung his dusty brown knapsack from his back to retrieve a beaten fedora, which he deftly flipped onto his head before taking stock of his surroundings. As it was the first day of spring break, Trevor Hunter assumed there wouldn't be too many people around, allowing him to move into his dormitory with a minimum of fanfare. The rest of his things would be arriving from his grandfather's manor later that day, but he'd decided to go on ahead to make sure all of his registration was in order and to take a look around. Although he'd been invited to attend Claremont weeks ago, it was not until now that the seventeen year old had gotten a chance to visit the campus. Hitching his pack over one shoulder, he dug a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and tried to follow the directions on it to the main office.

James was tired of all this cold and snow. He liked warm weather. And there were certain fun activities associated with winter; it still wasn’t his favorite time of the year. It got dreary too. Wore on people too. He’d had enough of it. He couldn’t change the seasons, but he could certainly make some minor adjustments. And now that he had some good friends who’d enjoy the change, he’d make it happen. A rather nice, if small, resort outside of the city was in their slow period. They were more than willing to rent the entire facility to James. A few dozen bungalows, a large pool, a volleyball court. Perfect place for a party of a couple hundred people easy. Saturday and Sunday would be pretty crowded. Not that there would be that many at first of course. Friday was just for a smaller group. Those who knew about their powers mainly, or at least those would wouldn’t reveal anything. Some would be heroes, others not. Well, the others that is. James didn’t really have a secret life given the Family name. James had showed up early on Friday. It took a little while for the snow to melt, the water in the pool to warm up nicely and the ground to dry. It was just like afternoon in the middle of summer, within the confines of the little resort anyway.

Some sort of mix up (which a good half of Young Freedom blamed Next Gen's antics for), led to their time in the training room being taken up. With some grumbling, they'd headed out to the quad for team manuevers instead. Thus, they were arrayed on the field debating the merits of touch football versus capture the flag for training time. After some debate, capture the flag was decided on. With the gold team comprised of Hellion, Psyche, Wander, and Edge on the gold team and Zephyr, Breakdown, Phalanx, and Geckoman on the blue team. Each one went off to hide their flag to the best of their ability and discuss tactics. As usual, Mark had left the rules confined to 'good sportsmanship' so really, anything went. Psyche trailed after the other three after they'd hidden their flag, leaving it up to Mark to plot out the strategy while she scanned the quad for the other half of the team's and their scrap of blue.

Late one crisp Friday in January, the various members of Young Freedom sat around the conference table in their headquarters and listened to the Star of Africa. Edet Chereno was the only Claremont student from Dakana, the richest nation in sub-Saharan Africa, and as he spoke with his faint English accent the daka crystals embedded in his red-tinted body glistened in the light of the overhead lamps. "The White Lion has disappeared." He looked from one to the other of the students there before looking back at Mark, the Young Freedom member who knew the African student best. "The great African hero," Mark murmured. "The King of Dakana. He's a friend of my family too," he added before letting the Star continue. Even Mark looked worried for this one, or at least as worried as Mark ever got. "He was returning from a conference in South Africa, along with the Prime Minister and the Queen, when his plane disappeared completely from Dakanan radar. Two follow-up missions have failed to find him; indeed, one of the rescue missions has now disappeared." Edet swallowed hard. "My country is at peace, but we have many enemies. The other nations tell mad stories about us, that we harbor a secret cure for cancer that is only for the elite, that a king keeps a monster chained up in the mountains, that our wealth comes from trade with the Grue." He rubbed one of the crystals in his skin and said quietly. "We cannot win a war against all our neighbors while at the same time choosing a new king. Even a victory would mean the death of tens of thousands." "And you came to us because teenage American heroes going to Africa will attract less attention than the Freedom League?" Mark had actually not wondered about that question at all; Edet had come to them because they were superheroes, naturally. But Edet had explained it when he'd first approached Edge, and so Mark had decided to bring it up himself. "Yes," agreed Edet. "Even the news of the king's disappearance would be a disaster. We must do all we can to prevent that. And...because it will allow me to come with you," he added. "I would not see my mentor, my patron suffer and be unable to come to his aid. Please, help," he asked them. "Before my homeland falls into a war that none shall win."

The entire Bayview mall was bathed in red. It hung in streamers from the ceilings, covered the walls, and painted the glass display cases, spattering signs and drenching employees and their wares alike. All the unrelieved visceral color was tiresome to the eyes, but that was what you got for going shopping just before Valentine's Day. None of the cash-hungry stores were about to let anybody forget that the best way to show love was to buy your significant other plenty of presents. Alex, though, had taken care of her gifts far in advance of the holiday, and it wasn't something Erin had to worry about. They were on another mission entirely. "Don't you think it seems kind of, I dunno, optimistic to put out the swimsuits in February?" Erin asked rhetorically, perusing the racks of lycra and spandex in Macy's Juniors department. "We've got James to make a pool party work out, but it's not even thirty degrees outside yet. Who's going to be going swimming yet?" Despite her skepticism, she paused in her searching to examine and discard several different suits. She'd gotten some money from her sort-of-parents for Christmas, and she wasn't going to wear a borrowed suit anymore if she could help it.

Between the holidays and their assorted adventures much of the time Young Freedom usually devoted to training had fallen by the wayside. At least that was the explanation Psyche had given when suggesting Edge arrange for this session. Thus Wander, Psyche, Phalanx and Edge found themselves completing the warm-up routines in the Caldwell Manors own Simulated Tactics and Advanced Training System. Having completed his warm ups and solo exercises Phalanx hovered near the entrance to the S.T.A.T.S. room watching as the others completed their own simulations.

"I'm still not sure I understand what you're trying to do," Erin told Alex as they sat together in front of Alex's computer. "I mean, I get it in general, but not really. How are you going to play the stock market when you can't even buy stocks? I'm pretty sure they don't sell to teenagers." The start of Christmas break meant they all had more time on their hands, time for all sorts of extracurricular activities. Erin had mostly intended to spend her break catching up on television, but Alex had other ideas. Erin studied the voluminous page of trading terms and conditions that Alex was scanning through, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. She suspected it was in English, it was just that the sentences didn't line up into any sort of rational order. "And how can you be sure you're going to make money off of it?"

That day started like so many others in Freedom City. The sun was shining, a few light and fluffy clouds in the sky. People went about their business as usual. The day started like any other; but it certainly didn’t stay that way… The first warning was quiet, subtle even if there wasn’t a lot of lead up time. Seers and psychics, ESPers and precogs felt like someone shoved a hot needle in their brain as the horror of what was coming crashed over them like a tidal wave. They saw the destruction of everything, the death of all life coming. And not just coming eventually; it was standing on their doorstep and knocking. The coming event and the things they saw crushed them and kept them from doing anything but try and pull themselves together. Elsewhere: At the base of Centurion’s statue, a young man appeared. He seemed to have arrived in mid-stride. His skins was dark reddish-brown, his eyes were black. Beyond that, he could have been human. He looked around the park, taking everyone in with his contemptuous gaze. He turned and looked up at the symbol for righteousness and all that was good in the city and sneered. He threw his hands forward and massive lances of black flame struck the statue. For an instant the statue held, before breaking off at the knees and falling backward. The tremor from the impacts was felt for hundreds of yards. Quickly, the broken legs of the statue became darker, an ugly color of stone as they changed. An arc formed, connecting the two towering stone legs. The space between flickered changed and, with a tear that screamed into the horrified citizens, a rent in the fabric of the world opened and filled the space with a gateway. On the other side, waiting, stood rank after rank after rank of nightmares of various shapes and sizes. With a roar and scream, the demonic horde charge through the opening as their summoner leaned against a pillar and smiled coldly. Everywhere: Across the city, the sky darkened. This was no eclipse, there were no clouds. It was as if the sun died and went out. While it was dark, a harsh reddish glow filled the city with enough light to see. The gloom of a hellish eternal night settled over the city. The city itself began to change. Slowly at first, starting in the city center and quickly moving outward. Grass and plants withered and died; just dead husks as the life was drained from them. Roads became pitted and cracked as if they had not been used in ages. There were splits in the earth where magma burst forth, creating new rivers of destructions. Fire burned everywhere; some just springing into being. Even the buildings and landscape were altered. Things twisted and changed; sometimes no longer even recognizable. Everything took on a dark and malicious appearance. Horrific creatures, demons of all shapes and sizes quickly appeared. Some came from the hellish glow in the city center while others came from the numerous small portals that opened everywhere. A wave of fear, terror, hatred, sadness and hopelessness seemed to engulf the city. People shook in fear, cowered or ran. They knew in their souls the end had come and they were powerless to stop it. Nowhere was safe now. No place was untouched. The world of heroes was over. Suffering and death was all that remained. Freedom City was gone. Hell had come to Earth and it wasn’t going anywhere… Amidst the darkness, amidst the terrified people, there were those that stood strong. Those who shook off the darkness and rose above it despite how it ate at the center of their being. They could still feel this new city/world trying to tear them down, but they were strong enough to fight through it. The world may have gone to hell, but not everyone was willing to give up and quit. Some were not going to go down without a fight… Over in the North End, visible for miles around, a pillar of golden-white light rose to pierce the darkness. It shone like a beacon in the tainted city; a sign that not everywhere was changed; not everywhere was Fallen. It called to the hearts and souls of the terrified people. Hope wasn’t completely gone yet. heading to Liberty Park in Riverside It had been a rough week for the young heroes. After James was lost at the cemetery, it wasn’t an easy thing to bear. And it wasn’t hard for them to guess what was coming. It was only a matter of time after all. They were gathered in their base when the other shoe dropped. The lights dimmed, colors changed. Things go darker, both physically and emotionally. Their less than cheering moods were now mirrored in the world around them. It was time. Now they just needed to know where to go. What they would do when they go there? That was still a little fuzzy.

Psyche The Manor was even more empty than usual at this point in the day. As it was early, early morning, Alex's grandfather was still in bed. Which, actually, was why Alex was in the 'hall of heroes' as she'd come to calling it. One of the rooms that they'd come accross was a memorial of sorts - a room filled with costumes under glass cases. Oh, it had started out as the changing room, with each costume and accessories held under pristine conditions. It had slowly morphed into a memorial of sorts instead, the first time a sidekick hadn't been able for one reason or another to don their mask and spandex again. It was the one room her grandfather had been unable to open and face, so Alex was up at the crack of dawn, quietly cleaning it. The glass cases kept the costumes themselves pristine but nothing else in the room certainly was. In a pair of raggedy jeans, with her hair knotted up in a scarf, Alex industrially dusted, swept and mopped. Each silent glass tube was scrubbed lovingly, and each letter on the name plate below was meticulously cleaned off. In this room, the soft hum of the manor's power cells was muted to a faint whooshing white-noise background. Like most of the areas of the underground potion of the base, the room was high ceilinged and panneled to look like a scene out of Star Trek. Except in this room, an aura of sorrow clung to the walls. Today, in the wake of the Halloween battle, Alex found a quiet sort of comfort in the ambient aura. Once the room was pristine, Alex turned back to survey her handiwork for a moment. She walked through, touching the nameplate of the tube that held her grandmother's lab coat before continuing on to an empty tube. Pressing her fingertips against the keypad at the side, the air tight chamber whooshed open. Pulling the jacket from her backpack, Alex slipped the expensive leather into the display case and palmed the chamber closed. Arms wrapped around her stomach, Alex watched as the jacket was held in stasis, waiting and in that moment understood exactly why this chamber existed. It wasn't about an eternal memorial. It was about the hope that the lost would one day walk down the hall and reclaim their costume. It was a promise that they were still and would always be waiting. Dry eyed, Alex walked out of the costume chamber.

Alex was easy enough to find these days. Sitting at the Manor's giant databanks, she looked small and very young as she clicked through the screens of information, searching for anything that might help them understand what had happend to James. Except for the corona of ambient power surrounding her, she looked waifish as she sat with her legs folded up in her grandfather's leather chair in worn jeans and one of Mike's sweatshirts that swallowed her fragile frame. Her eyes were smudged with faint bruises and a half drank cup of coffee had long ago gone cold next to the large keyboard.