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January 10, 2017 Bedlam City Hall Downtown It was one of those too-bright January days when the sun is shining down from a clear blue sky that makes it look downright inviting outside, - until you step out into the teeth of an Upper Midwest winter. Snow was piled everywhere, thick and dirty, as usual in Bedlam at this time of year. The meteor hit with a flash of light and roar of noise, striking the decaying pavement directly in front of Bedlam's equally-mouldering City Hall. The few squatters living in the building, and the odd passerby on their way to the County Courthouse down the block, recovered from the impact and blinding light with difficulty, rubbing their eyes and blinking as the glow at the center of the crater faded. Inside was a man - no, not a man at all! Standing inside the crater was a hulking figure in bizarrely-colored robes like something from a lurid Egyptian-set melodrama - but the thing inside was no actor. Towering some nine feet in height, its scaly reptilian skin, narrow head, and long, wicked-looking fangs suggested not a man at all but some sort of horrible;..Serpent-Man! Hefting high a glowing staff that crackled with unspeakable eldritch power, the snake-man hissed "At lassst! I have essscaped the bonds of Ra'ssss infernal prissson!" The snake-man gestured with his staff and serpents began to wriggle their way impossibly out of the cracked winter pavement at his feet. "Behold, brief mortalsss! The Scion of Set hasss returned to rule the landsss of men!" Then a laugh sounded, not far above his head - and seemingly from out of the sun itself, emerged a new figure - her face hidden by a hawk-faced mask, her head covered in a Pharonic crown, her body wrapped in gold and linen like an Egyptian queen out of legend, she clutched in her hand the glowing ankh of Horus! (To her recollection, the Sunhawk had never actually visited "the mistake by the lake") She laughed again, her thick golden ringlets shaking with mirth. Of the snake man and his serpent minions, some of whom were growing to humanoid size and shape, she showed no fear at all. "Fool! Set is as barren as the desert sands! Thou are but a craven ill-breeding lewdster - a castoff of Apep who apes the Serpent as a lapdog apes Anubis!" Ugh. Handle this one thyself, 'Horus', I will return when yon idol of idiot-worshippers begone. Okay, fine! i was trying to do you a favor! The Scion of Set's eyes boggled at first - but then narrowed with serpentine cunning, and no little godly rage. "You...how dare you! Your mockery will be your death warrant! False Sunhawk, come low and be tested!" The Scion fired a beam of green energy from his staff at Horus, only to find her far fleeter than he expected. "Thy tongue outvenoms the Nile - but thy aim is that of a child! Come and face the Sunhawk in battle, then!" And then Horus flew down and struck the Scion across the body with her glowing ankh - and the battle was on!

7:15 AM, August 4th. In Bedlam’s halls of power, nothing ever changed. On the streets, little ever stayed the same. It was about six in the morning that the first early commuters noticed that the front windows of Rothstein’s Jewelers were, for the first time in living memory, totally empty. Most of them just put their gaze right back down on the pavement; not their problem, not when they couldn’t afford breakfast and wouldn’t get dinner either if they missed their shifts. A few dared to wonder if the place had gone out of business, but that seemed odd. Not even the youth gangs spray painting swastikas on the façade had been able to drive Saul Rothstein out, and a man who at eighty-one could still pressure-wash them off personally seemed too lively to just up and die. It wasn’t until seven that someone thought it was odd enough to bother calling the police, and then only by dumb luck. Adam McConnell, who taught at Thaddeus Grissom High, had been saving up for almost seven months to buy that wedding ring in the center window display, and he came by every morning like clockwork to remind himself why he kept trying in a job that was killing him. He knew Saul personally; the old man had a grandkid at Grissom, and had cut almost half off the ring’s price just for Adam. He knew that Saul would die in that store if he had his way. Nothing else would make him close up. Police response time in Stark Hill, even at the edges, was about five minutes; the Bedlam PD actually cared about white folks, if no one else. But as far as they were concerned, Rothstein didn’t really qualify. They saw no reason to hurry if some Jew got himself robbed. So at 7:15 Adam was still the only person who had bothered to stop outside the store, increasingly worried not just about Saul but about losing his job if he didn’t show up by eight. The question kept running through his mind, though: why hadn’t any of Saul’s alarms been tripped?

Stronghold Player Name: Raveled Character Name: Stronghold Power Level: 7 (105/108 PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 3 In Brief: A big man with a big arm trying to keep his little sister safe. Catchphrase: "I'll fight you with one hand behind my back." Alternate Identity: Luther Lionel Lexington (Secret) Birthplace: Bedlam City, WI Residence: Disused warehouse in Wolverton Base of Operations: Wolverton Occupation: Construction, bouncer, various jobs under the table Affiliations: Good News Thunderous Hammer Church of God in Christ Family: Alice (mother), father (unknown/estranged), Lena (sister) Description: Age: 32 (October, 1983) Gender: Male Ethnicity: African-American Height: 6' 0" Weight: 210 lbs Eyes: Black Hair: Brown Luthor Lexington is a large man with a barrel chest and a heavy build. It would be easy to call him fat, except that he moves with the restrained grace of someone with a lot of power who knows how to use it. He wears a short, neat beard and close-cropped hair, and dresses in clean clothes, usually athletic shirts and old, baggy jerseys and well-patched jeans. His hands are large and calloused and his face is stuck in a permanent scowl. When he goes out on the street with Lena, he wears a similar outfit. The most eye-catching part is a bright red tee-shirt with a black shield on it. He wears a black mask wrapped around his head to hide his identity, and black motorcycle gloves and combat boots. History: Luthor Lexington was born in Bedlam and grew up in Wolverton, amid poverty and discrimination and need. His mother wasn't a very good provider, and at an early age he became responsible for his sister Lena. He did everything he could to keep her safe and warm, and in Wolverton that meant joining a gang. They weren't as high profile as the Devil Rays, but they did a brisk trade by stealing or disassembling cars on the street. One night Luthor ranged wide outside of their normal territory looking for a good mark, and ended up breaking into an up-market SUV too near Stark Hill. The cops caught him, chased him, and arrested him; they charged him with grand theft auto (stealing a stereo), resisting arrest (running away) and assaulting a police officer (throwing a trash can at one of the cops). He was thrown into Bedlam City Jail and waited for his day in court. So he waited, and waited, and waited. Months went by and Luthor didn't have any contact with the outside world. He tried to lay low, but the big man was actively courted by several gangs who had their tendrils in the penitentiary; when he refused to play ball, he was jumped in the shower. Luthor fought back and put a couple of his assailants in the hospital and two charges of assault were appended to his case. It began to look like he would never walk free again and he fell into a deep, dark depression. That was when he met with a trim woman and a fat man who dressed in dark suits that screamed "Fed." They offered him a chance to get out of jail and sidestep the entire trial, a chance to earn enough money to get him and his family out of Bedlam forever. It was the chance of a lifetime and Luthor jumped at it. He was transferred to Bald Hill Penitentiary and placed in solitary confinement, but before long the experiments began. He was cut open and machines were put in him, he was subjected to electric shocks and freezing baths, he was injected with drugs and poisons. At some point he began lifting things with streamers of blue-red energy, and with a little more work (and more 'enticement' by his handlers/torturers) he learned to refine these abilities. Still, the researchers weren't very happy with him and once again Luthor began to wonder again if he'd ever see the sun again. One gloomy day (all days are gloomy in doors) he was shackled and loaded into a van and drove out into the city. His chains were short enough that he could barely get off his bench, but he did his best to watch the city through the barred window in the side of the van. He was probably the first one to see the dump truck that hit them. In a few moments the strict, military air of the group descended into anarchy and gunfire. A tall figure in a hoodie literally tore the door off Luthor's truck and helped him out of the shackles, freeing him and helping him escape into the city. It was a shock when he realized that this was his little sister Lena, all grown up and casually throwing dumpsters around. They caught up, and while Luthor was happy to be free and out of prison he quickly realized that Lena wanted to go further with it. She worked out, took tae kwon do classes at the Y, and sought out injustice in the city. Luthor tried to dissuade her, but years on her own and her growing maturity meant Lena wasn't persuaded. Eventually he was the one who bent; if his sister was going to be risking her life out on the streets, the least he could do was go out with her and try to protect her. Luthor's not as devoted to saving the city as Lena is, but he is devoted making sure she comes back every night, safe and secure. Personality & Motivation: Luthor had learned, though painful lessons, that the world is mostly full of people trying to screw other people over. He doesn't want to be a part of that cycle of hurting and predation, and so he does his best to stay out of it. The problem is that a lot of people on the streets want a big, strong guy like him as an enforcer, so to avoid hurting people Luthor learned to either scare them off or fade into the background. Really, Luthor is tired of all the dirt and grime and crime in his life and just wants to be rid of it all. The one bright spot in his life is his sister. Lena is, to him, a genius that is well on her way to escaping the festering pit that is Bedlam. Luthor's main goal is to help her and provide for her so that one day she can rise over it all and get out of the city, and he will do whatever is necessary for that to happen. Powers & Tactics: Luthor fights by getting in close. He's a brawler, not a tactician, and he will do his best to pick out the most dangerous enemy and engage them directly. At the same time, his biggest goal in a fight is to protect Lena so if anyone is proving a threat to her Luthor will jump straight into their face and start smashing them. If someone is using Movement powers or ranged attacks to stay away from him, he'll pick them up in his hand and shake them like a rag doll. Power Descriptions: Luthor can manifest a spectral arm of pure energy, a red ghost of his left arm that can lift nearly superhuman weights. In addition to lifting and squeezing, he can use it to strike with superhuman strength, or simply bring the arm and oversized hand around to shelter behind it. He can hide an entire crowd behind the energy field of his hand. Complications: Secret Luthor has to keep his identity as Stronghold a secret. The gangs don't care for capes hanging around their neighborhood. Struggling Luthor and Lena are usually running at the edges of their budget. Any extra, sudden expenses could ruin them. Family First Luthor puts his sister's safety first. He'd sacrifice anything or anyone to protect her. Unstable Experiment Stronghold's powers were awakened artificially, and no one can be sure how his implants will react to a particular stimulus. Wanted Man There's still a warrant out for Luthor Lexington, and if he's arrested he'll be in prison for a long time. Anger Mismanagement Time in prison hardened Luthor and taught him to react with violence. He's still working past those instincts, and under pressure he may still lash out without thinking. Abilities: 10 + 4 + 8 + 2 + 0 + 4 = 28 PP Strength: 20 (+5) Dexterity: 14 (+2) Constitution: 18 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 10 (+0) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 6 + 6 = 12 PP Initiative: +2 Attack: +3 Melee, +3 Ranged, +7 Psychic Armament Defense: +7 (+3 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Grapple: +8/+14 Knockback: -3/-6 Saving Throws: 3 + 2 + 4 = 9 PP Toughness: +7 (+4 Con, +3 Protection, Impervious 6) Fortitude: +7 (+4 Con, +3) Reflex: +4 (+2 Dex, +2) Will: +4 (+0 Wis, +4) Skills: 68 R = 17 PP Climb 5 (+10) Concentration 4 (+4) Craft (Mechanical) 9 (+10) Craft (Structural) 9 (+10) Intimidate 10 (+12) Knowledge (Current Events) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Streetwise) 9 (+10) Notice 8 (+8) Search 2 (+3) Sense Motive 8 (+8) Feats: 4 PP Dodge Focus 4 Equipment 2Bronze Reward Warehouse HQ [10 EP] Size: Medium [1 EP] Toughness: +5 Features: [9 EP] Concealed Fire Prevention System Garage Gym Infirmary Living Space Security System 2 [DC 25] Workshop Powers: 3 + 24 + 8 = 35 PP All powers have the Psychic and Telekinesis descriptors Protection 3 (Personal Forcefield) [3 PP] Psychic Armament 9 (18 PP, Feats: Accurate 2, Alternate Powers 2) [24 PP] BE: Move Object 7 (Str 35, Feats: Chokehold, Extended Reach [10 ft], Improved Grab, Improved Pin, Extra: Damaging, Flaw: Range/Melee) (Energy Arm) [18/18] AP: Damage 7 (Extra: Area/Line [Targeted]) (Liner Punch) [14/18] AP: Impervious Protection 6 (Extra: Affects Others [+1], Area/Burst [Targeted]) (Sheltering Hand) [18/18] Leaping 2 (x5, move action, Extra: Linked [+0] [Speed, Super-Movement) + Speed 2 (25 MPH, Extra: Linked [+0] [Leaping, Super-Movement]) + Super-Movement 2 (Slow Fall, Swinging, Extra: Linked [+0] [Leaping, Speed]) (Telekinetic Grapnel) [8 PP] Drawbacks: (-0) = -0 PP DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 20 Toughness (Staged) Damage Energy Hand 10 ft DC 22 Toughness (Staged) Damage, Grapple Liner Punch Touch DC 22+Autofire Toughness (Staged) Damage Totals: Abilities (28) + Combat (12) + Saving Throws (9) + Skills (17) + Feats (4) + Powers (35) - Drawbacks (0) = 105/108 Power Points

Dakana International Airport, Dakana 16th February 2015, 13:00 EAT (GMT +3) It wasn’t often that Claremont asked it’s students to travel halfway around the world, even if it was school holidays, but it wasn’t often that the request came on behalf of an actual King. The request was rather enigmatic but seemed to come from an official source of the Kings household. After rather lengthy discussion it was decided that one of the schools semi-official teams, Next-Gen, would have the honor to travel to Dakana. Flight BP66 one of the very modern Airbuses lands almost on schedule at the airport in a long but comfortable flight, whilst you were travelling economy the flight had very generous legroom. With the correct paperwork in hand you breezed through immigration to pick up your luggage that had travelled as diplomatic bags. Everything had been carefully prepared to make thing runs smoothly. Soon you were in the ultra modern clean airport lounge looking for whoever was here to greet you to this small African country.

OOC of this thread: '?do=embed' frameborder='0' data-embedContent>> For simplicity's sake; "This is how the Earth-Prime Cho speak." and "This is how the Earth-Paragon Cho speak." There, color coded for convenience. I'd recommend some color coding to tell which version of our character is speaking, especially when inside the same post.

Earth ND - Freedom City, Some time ago... Some random café... "I tried to keep the visions away." The man says, while sitting in a coffee, his old hand tighly gripping his hot coffee cup. With a shaking hand, he raised it to his lips. A slurping noise soon followed, as he sloppily ingested the liquid. "I really tried." He said, in an old, broken voice, the voice of a weary old man who doesn't know what to do with life anymore. "Come on, dad." His daughter said, worried about him and rightfully so. "Just...just go tell the doctor, he'll get you some new medecine or something." She reached out to touch his hand but he backed away, with a look of fear in his eyes. With his hand still shaking, he placed the coffee cup back on the table, making a loud noise. "I'm not, crazy. I'm...not...crazy." He whispered. "It hapenned, I've seen it happen. I can see things, things I can't see with my old, sickly eyes. I can see worlds; I can see shining cities, I can see horrific abyss. I see them in my dream, clearly. Clearer than anything else." The old man said. He knew he sounded crazy, but also knew he wasn't crazy. Years ago he would have believed his own madness, but now the world has gone mad. The super men were real. Gods walked the earth. One old man with prophetic dream wasn't so strange, now was it? "It started, I don't know, probably more than a decade ago. I was at the hospital, you know, my cancer? All I wanted was to survive, so I could keep telling my grandchildren stories; that's all I wanted. And I got that, I got better but something changed in me, that day." He look at his daughter, who had an expression of unease on her face. "There's only one word that can apply to what hapenned to me, it's what they call it on TV, on Radio." He said, as his daughter shook her head in denial. The old man leaned in and said, in a hushed voice; "Breakout." She shook her head, in denial, with tears in her eyes. "No, d-dad, you're just sick! Go to a doctor!" He slammed his fists on the table, causing her to step up in shock and surprise. Her father had never shown any signs of violence, having been a peaceful man all his life; surely, his behavior were the sign of dementia and old age. "I'm not sick! I'm not crazy! I've had a vision! Something...something terrible is going to happen and I have to stop it!" "Even if you were right, what are you going to do about it? You...you don't have powers, right? I mean, not like them." the daughter said, trying to make an effort to listen to her old father, in the slim chance he was actually right. "You're right." The old man replied, taking another sip of his coffee. "I can't fly, I can't summon fire from my hands; all I can do is see things. Other places. The past, the future. Strange places. That's why...that's why I have to go there, look for answers." Only he knew what he was talking about; strange realms beyond the senses of ordinary people. "What place, dad? What...where?" "A world of fairy tales." The old man said, chuckling at his own insanity. Despite his diehard belief in how it was real, he still had those small moments of doubt. "I know, I know...it sound crazy, we've talked about crazyness before. The thing is, I've seen them in my dreams; beautiful, imaginary cities you can visit. Somewhere, in there, I'll find an answer. A way to stop the disaster that is coming." "If you can...um...see the future, then doesn't that make it impossible to change?" She then, mere moments later, realized she was actually buying into her father's senility. There was no way she could buy into this, yet here she was, believing him. Perhaps it was simply a matter of faith in him. He had always been sensible, why would he be crazy all of a sudden? "I've seen it happen before; sometimes, when I try to act I can change the outcome. Sometimes good, sometimes bad." He explained, trying to reassure her that his quest wouldn't be in vain. The old man stood up and placed the chair back where it belonged, leaving the half-finished coffee where it was. __ Later... An appartment in the North End... Sitting in his chair, the old man stared at the shot of whisky he was holding. He wasn't much of a heavy drinker, far from it. Just the occasional shot here and there, especially when seeing old friends but right now, he felt like he was going to need it as he prepared to do something he had never done before, tapping into his full powers as a paranormal. "I'm just an old man." he said to himself. "But who knows? I might find something to help me on the other side." The old man swallowed his shot of whisky. "Phew, well; time to feel like I'm a youngster again. Diving into the unknown, that should be something." Briefly he turned to look at the open TV, showing the image of a young Paranormal, who was making a name for herself using her powers, perhaps for good or perhaps for fame. Briefly, she shook hand with people in the crowd, before fist-bumping someone in particular in said crowd. Another teenager-young woman. Without exchanging a word, it seemed the two knew each others, but the old man didn't pay more attention to it as he had began to use his powers to 'open a path'. Around him, the appartment shifted, as if liquid. In fact, the walls appeared as if they were melting. Soon enough, they liquified. Rocks and plants began to grow on the walls and the floor and the ceilling morphed into a starry sky. "Amazing..." He said, with a sense of wonder he hadn't felt in decades. Step by step, the old man walked toward his destination, deep inside the Imageria... __ Earth-Prime - Freedom City, November 29 2014 North End Interdimensional kerfuffles were really not Cho's area of expertise, not by a long shot. Not that she really had an area of expertise; mostly she just punched stuff and that was all she needed when it came to fighting crime and evil. As it hapenned, she and Stronghold hapenned to be in the area when...something...was apparently summoned or appeared in the North End. Some eerie, supernatural beast, of ill-defined shape. "It's getting weak!" Cho shouted at Stronghold. "We can take it down together!"

OOC for >this thread

Saturday, November 15th 2014 Two figures slipped into existance in the quiet woods, as if they appeared out of thin air. But nothing in this place was as it looked, as this was the mysterious, ever-shifting realm of the Fey. Truth told, a keen eye would spot the faint shimmering air that signalled the portal the girls had walked through. Again, the same observer would notice that one of the figures brought only a general resemblance to a woman. While the general shape was right, human girls didn't have the large, luminous eyes and the unnatural grace this woman possessed. Nor the strangely resonant voice she spoke with, as soon as the portal closed behind them. "And this is it, the Fey realm," Angie said, staring around. Even if she'd been here many times before, each of them had felt subtly different; bizarre and strangely familiar at the same time. "As much as I've been told, it's a sort of limbo that exists close to our reality, and yet a little out of synch with it. I can travel through here to any other place in the material plane, and open a portal back through a door or archway on the other side." A ginger cat - or at least, that's what it looked like - strut along with grace, slightly preceding Angeline. "I wil take a look around and check for any danger, milady." the cat said. It spoke with a voice that could only be described as... well... sly and cunning, and it looked extremely pleased to be able to roam the place freely. "Thank you, Oliver. But don't get too far away," Angie told her feline bodyguard, as Oliver sprinted ahead into the undergrowth. "So, what do you think of it? Isn't it beautiful?" asked Angie, twirling around and looking at her companion, her roommate Haukea.

OOC for thread. Stronghold and Argonaut deal with a rogue agent. Note: Due to the nature of the thread, a number of AEGIS devices and support will be available to both Argonaut and Strongholds father. This may require a diplomacy roll for more dangerous and extravagent support, so feel free to make those rolls if you request anything in character. The DC would range from 0 (equipment, files, general information or expertise), to 10 (Getting agents to support you, exotic equipment, support from other agencies) to 20 (restricted files, devices such as MAX armour), although that is just a guideline!

GM Monday, October 20th... AEGIS Headquaters, Federal Building, Downtown... Agent Kawene left AEGIS in a nervous state, dressed innocently in a non descript suit and nondescript tie, but perspiring more than he should now the heat had left the city with the fall. He had a look, that could not be concealed, of concern. He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to think of his family, and his daughter who would be visiting. But his concerned lined his face and could not be ironed out. Hailing a cab, he made his way back home, drumming his suitcase... As the Cab headed home... Agent Huggit was briefing Argonaut deep below the Federal building of AEGIS, and was just as concerned. "The man's name is Henry Hand. Ex military, joined AEGIS a year ago. Not the best agent, but not the worst. We had some..concerns...about his psychological profile. Impulsive, poor empathy, thrill seeking. Still, an effective man" Huggit was an older man, grey haired, thin, a face of experience and caution. Whilst concerned, he had weathered worse in AEGIS. He had seen more crisis that most men had had hot dinners. "He was exposed to a Daka Booster. We don't know where the technology came from, and where it came from...thats a story for another time and a higher clearance level. A device that extracts the energy from Daka crystals in fast and unpredictable ways. It bends space, bends dimensions. And, it seems, had bent Agent Hand..." "Hand has since been acquiring a multitude of devices. We need to stop him, before he gets his hands on anything truly dangerous..." He flicked through to the file on Agent Kawena. "And here is our bait. Agent Kawena. He knew Agent Hand, was even friendly with him. And we have arranged for Agent Kawena to look after our special items. We hope Hand will make his move on his friend. And we hope you can be around to stop him. And protect Agent Kawena..."

HP for everybody!

Exactly what it says on the tin

October 8, 2014. 10:30 AM. Bayview Mall. It was one of the pettiest crime sprees Freedom City had ever seen. Men in armor that looked like it was made from turnips and weapons that looked like they were made from various other vegetables had been raiding candy shops, ice cream parlors, convenience stores, and even small restaurants. At every stop, sugar and fatty food were ruined and destroyed, and fruits and vegetables left in their place. Those who objected were clubbed with mysteriously hard cucumbers and white radishes, left to suffer in the wake of an onion fume bomb, or hit with potatoes that somehow could generate enough electricity to shock people unconscious. The police just didn’t know what to do about them. They appeared quickly and disappeared just as fast. Somebody really, really hated junk food. It was when they started hitting supermarkets and the big restaurants that a hero decided to step in. Queenie didn’t want them harming her precious Southern Queen, so she went out looking for trouble. Fortunately, she didn’t have to for too long. This time they wanted to “cleanse†Bayview Mall’s food court. Queenie smiled. Crazy and stupid. There was no way the Claremont student body would let this go unavenged. Yet, here they were, throwing bombs and ruining food. People running, people screaming, the whole bit. Riiight. Like Maybelle was just gonna stand there and let them do it.

November 1, 2014 Frances Psion swore up and down she had nothing to do with the mysterious fire in Blackstone's psychiatric wing a couple of weeks ago - but given her powers and her penchant for scrapping with prison security personnel, the Blackstone authorities haven't been inclined to take any chances. She's gotten into trouble with inmates too, trouble enough that there have been some very nasty threats against her life (and other things) made inside the prison compound. The Psions have been scrapping with villains for years and Ember had always been the Professor's fist; a sadistic brute whose fiery punishments were great at striking fear across the villain community. In jail, in power restraints, she's just a short woman with a strange accent, reddish-blonde hair and skin tanned a faint, perpetual orange. She's being transported to lockup in upstate New York, where she'll be held for the next few weeks until the repairs to Blackstone are finished and her safety can be guaranteed. After that, she'll start what may be the first of many trials sometime in the beginning of 2015. Surrounded by two heavily armored female prison guards, she's in power-nullification shackles and a Blackstone orange uniform that she wears like a badge of honor. She's not talkative today; instead staring out the open window she can make out past the guard on her left, her eyes hooded as she looks out at the clouds overhead. Among the passengers on this particular flight is someone very special - the second Foreshadow, a special consultant who has experience dealing with Ember Psion and her ways - as well as an ability to foresee the future. For this prisoner, with the escape attempts that have already happened, that's a very good thing. - Stronghold is in the air, soaring high above the clouds! It's cool and crisp this high, with only her ring's power saving her from an icy coating and hypoxia, but that's okay - it's a beautiful day and the clouds are the sort of light, fluffy things that in cartoons would be like big balls of cotton candy. Nearby she can see what looks like a Lear Jet zipping through the sky, but she's an experienced enough flyer by now to know how to handle herself around civilian traffic. It really is a beautiful day. - Back in Freedom City, it's Richard and Paige's day off - as well it might be, given that it's Saturday! Holly has begged her way into another viewing of Maleficent, and Will has blessedly volunteered to save his parents from yet another showing of a movie they've seen no less than four times now between the two of them. Christie had pulled some strings and gotten a prison-band radio for them to monitor Frances' flight, and occasionally in between house-cleaning they listened to the check-ins and all-clears from the pilots - who were now safely in the air.

GM Post Since you've been approached, in secret, only a few months ago you’ve all been training to become the newest version of Claremont’s own super team the Next-Gen. The seven of you have been training to operate as both a full team and as two smaller teams imaginatively called Team-A and Team-B. And now both teams have been assigned their own mission. Team-A Riverside Park 13:20 Wednesday 2nd July 2014 Whilst Team-B seem to have been sent of what you assume is a wild adventure you’ve been assigned a much more mundane task. You’ve have been asked to investigate sporadic signals of alien origin that have been detected emanating from the park over the last couple of day. It could be nothing but things are still a little jittery after the events of last years, that even managed to affect Claremont itself...

OOC thread, for resolutions and discussion, this thread. Playing with fire, playing with lives.

GM J.P. Morgan & Chase Bank, Mcullough-Adams, Bayview, Freedom City July 2nd, Wednesday, 2.45 PM, 2014 The day had begun like most others on a summer day on the American east coast. For Freedom City it had been even more mundane than usual, everything that made the city such a dazzling gem of multi-faceted weirdness lying low as the sun beat down. As the day had veered into afternoon, hopes had slowly strengthened that maybe today, today nothing would happen. The bank tellers at Bayview's biggest Chase branch had begun to relax, smiling in relief as the hours ticked down to closing. They were cheerfully helping the last trickles of patrons before the big late-afternoon rush, chatting idly with each other when the burning men crashed through the roof, landing on the floor in a stream of flaming wreckage. One, covered in something like an astronaut's ">suit but red and emblazoned with a yellow lizard on the shoulders and chest, pointed a square black thing vaguely shaped like a gun at the tellers. "Out." his voice was soft as it crackled over a radio, but icily compelling "Now." "You heard him, gents!" sang out another of the gang, similarly-suited but weaponless save for a flickering heatwave around her "That insurance money won't steal itself! And we don't wanna hurt you, but-" a wave of heat slammed into one of the steel walls as she gestured carelessly with a hand, melting a hole clean through it "-we sure won't cry if we have to!" The other two were silent, the stocky one in a black suit opening their helmet to release a cloud of smoke that drifted up to the ceiling, starting the fire alarms' screaming wail. The last, a spindly figure in vivid yellow, snapped their fingers. To the terrified eyes of the tellers, guards, and patrons, flames seemed to leap from the floor, heading straight for them! From outside things weren't much better. A comet seemed to flash out of the sky and hit the bank, the fire alarms went off and the people inside came charging out, screaming and frantically beating at themselves. It was the kind of sight that made every nearby Freedonian look reflexively up at the sky, and wonder why, just why it always happened here...

OOC thread for this. thread. Heroes inspire hope, and destroy evil dreams. Edit: It was super-late at night when I posted this.

GM Various points around Midtown, Freedom City 9.45 AM, Tuesday, July 1st, 2014 A new month dawned. Despite the chaos in their lives, Freedom's millions mostly stuck to their routine, working to get through the day, to deal with their small problems and enjoy their small pleasures. In a lot of ways life hadn't changed much since the last century, except for one crucial shift... On top of the Surland Insurance building on Liberty, ten stories up, Bae looked down at the street. Behind his fogged-up glasses he couldn't see it clearly, but he could make out the people below. A part of him regretted that anyone would have to see him hit the ground, but a darker, colder part of him was glad to have an audience. 'Maybe now,' he thought, arms spreading as he stepped into the abyss 'I'll be worth noticing. Not just some nobody' By sheer chance, Stronghold saw the jumper start his plummet. There wasn't much time, but she could save him! Abby hit the ground hard, howling in pain and clutching her elbow. Sitting up awkwardly, the young woman just dodged the follow-up kick, rolling ungainly away and slamming against the alley wall. Her crisp office-wear was useless in this kind of situation. Looking up at her tormentor, she mumbled out "Y'won't get me that ea-augh!" a second kick from the masked young man hit home, sending her sprawling and croaking back to the ground. In mid-flight, she caught a glimpse of her would-be rescuee, the younger girl with the short black hair, silent and terrified thanks to the powerful hand clamped over her mouth and the knife at her throat. Catching a glimpse of her as she passed on Allen St., she'd dropped everything and charged to the rescue. "Jesus, woman," drawled the masked tough, taking out a much-used nightstick from his belt "you oughta leave this stuff to the real heroes, yaknowwhatim sayin'?" 'Maybe I can be...' thought Abigail furiously, scrabbling into a crouch and blowing the red hair out of her eyes as she focused on her attacker as he drew near 'I don't have to be worthless...' No thought goes unheard, especially not when Miss Grue is around. The door of the Go-Mart on the corner 40th and Foster burst open, letting in the gun-wielding middle-aged woman. "Alright, everyone down!" she hollered, firing a shot into the air for effect, one that sent the shocked passel of Freedonians inside obediently to the floor. Marching up to the teller, she gestured with the Beretta "You, call the cops, tell them I..." she glanced around, eyes wild before an idea struck "tell them I have hostages! And I won't give them up until the government releases the Patriot formula!" The teller stared at her blankly, nodded very slowly, and picked up the phone to relay the message as the graying woman's gun trembled near his heart. Riff heard it all clear as day. The gunshot was a pretty clear giveaway, though. Really, no need to listen further after that. Ted slumped onto the concrete bench on Allen St., clasping his head of tousled red hair in his hands as it dropped to his knees. 'I'm worthless, useless, can't do anything, I always screw up' He looked up just in time to catch sight of Amelyth flying overhead...and his head slumped down again 'I'm nothing, I'm no good, I'm weak, I'm stupid, I'm nothing next to them...' You didn't need to be a telepath to know the guy had a problem, but being made it easier to guess what the problem was. Marsha stared at the painting on her easel. It was technically precise, a masterpiece. A glorious mimicry of the cityscape on Liberty, but forecast into some glorious future, metal and glass spires reaching for the heavens. Around them flew, walked or ricocheted a myriad of costumed characters, laughing at the silver paradise they were in. They burned with power, shone with health and youth. And were completely alone. Adjusting her round glasses, she sighed and relaxed into her fold-up chair, the lines on her face crinkling glumly. "This isn't our world anymore. It's theirs. I'm sure they'll be glad when we're all gone" she said aloud, the words catching the attention and raised eyebrows of a few passing Freedonians, but not getting any comment. Rene de Saens was passing by, though, and art always wants critique.

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

The OOC thread here

OOC for >this thread.

GM Private Plane en route to New Freedom (Half an hour away) Saturday, June 07, 2014 6:18 PM Even before the school year ended, rumors had been flowing around the Claremont campus that Headmaster Summers had been growing increasingly sour. A few students had even mentioned seeing him speaking less than cordially with a woman inside of his office. But as all the rumors related to Headmaster Summers the truth was shrouded in mystery. Then the volunteer forms appeared inside of the dorm rooms, of a select number of the student body. Giving students the opportunity to represent their school in an interschool competition. With the reward for participation being quote as field experience, extra credit [pre-emptively guaranteed for any who would be graduating before the summer came], and a free vacation. The catch? The opposing school was New Freedom's Academy for Exemplary Individuals. Getting students excited to visit New Freedom was no easy endeavor. It was made clear to those whom had been sent the invites that ultimately no one was forced to volunteer. Five students were ultimately picked from those that expressed their interest. Devin Yeager, or Coach as he expressedly wished to be called, was the only member of the faculty whom had chosen to accompany the student competitors. Not counting Headmaster Summers of course. Once the agreed upon came to pass the Claremont students were taken to a private jet in the middle of the evening so as to arrive at their destination in style.