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November 2013 Greetings, all and sundry! Your Vignette theme for this month shall be... A Day/Night in the Life Most superheroes have a cause. A focus. A reason for getting out of bed at night, putting on strange clothing, and beating up malefactors. But many of our threads tend to focus on the "big, sweeping" stories and not the night-to-night work, the same way your typical episode of Law and Order is less about a random mugging (and that's it) and more about mob ties, hate crimes, and/or strange sexual escapades. But what is it your character does for the cause of justice "between the threads"? What sort of small international incidents does Edge handle in his work with UNISON? What sort of street crime does Wail help to clean up? What sort of affairs of the dead does Nick Cimitiere put to rest? What sort of minor extradimensional incidents does Lord Steam take care of? This is your chance to tell a story about what your hero does on a "quiet" night. What sort of minor issues they deal with in the course of their duties which aren't necessarily salacious enough to draw in other heroes, but which still need to be resolved. After all, a hero's duties start with one injustice, no matter how small. When/Where: Your choice. How Long: At least one page length in your word processor of choice.

July 2013 Greetings, everyone. Your July 2013 Vignette Theme for Freedom City Play By Post is: PATRIOTISM A cultural attachment to one's homeland! Devotion to one's country! The last refuge of a scoundrel! It can be all this and more, depending on your character's nature and where exactly is they are from. Heroes in the world of Freedom generally don't work directly for governments (except for Victory and sometimes Cannonade), but some wear their colors like Miss Americana or Lady Liberty, and all of them have a relationship with patriotism - even the ones born in no nation at all still live in one now. Some heroes are proud citizens of their native land; some are refugees from a native land that spat them out like a peach pit. There's a lot to say on this subject. If you don't want to delve into that kind of deep character development, concentrating on more serious threats like an alien PC's reaction to all the funny red white and blue bunting hanging around the city in early July, or a team of bank robbers in Uncle Sam on Stilts costumes taking advantage of the holiday to do some bad stuff, that's just fine too. This should not be political. (You should know this already.) Your vignette should be posted by the end of July 31, 2013, EST. Go ahead and post them to this thread. Do it for the original Freedom Eagle...Sam.

January 15, 2013 9 AM Freedom City Courthouse "We now go live to the courthouse steps, where Star Knight has appeared to offer her opinion on the Yamashita verdict." The trial of the accused stockbroker had been a high-profile case of financial fraud in Freedom City, Greg Yamashita having plundered the pensions of several established Freedom City companies, and his acquittal had brought many demonstrators out with placards and catcalls. Yamashita was being ushered through the crowd by the police when Star Knight, the armored heroine and Freedom League member, swooped down from the sky overhead and briefly hovered over Yamashita and his police escort. The crowd fell silent for a moment as the heroine raised her hand, looking down from her faceless armor at the wide-eyed stock forger. "It's time," she said with perfect clarity before suddenly firing a deadly blast that instantly incinerated the criminal and sent his police escort tumbling like so many ninepins. "The day has come when the heroes of Freedom will no longer stand the existence of our enemies! You're next!" she yelled to the camera as the crowd began screaming in terror. The camera fell, tilting wildly, as a distant explosion sent the crowd stumbling. The last shot captured by the camera before a foot crushed it to bits was the heroine floating in the air and firing blasts into the side of the jail attached to the courthouse, laughing at the top of her lungs. "Hahaha! It's judgement day!" January Vignette: Day of Wrath On January 15, 2013 at 9 AM EST, a wave of violence sweeps through the heroes and villains of Freedom City, without regard for who and what they might once have been before. Some seem to go mad, laughing manically as they fall on their enemies alike like a rabid wolf gone among the sheep, driving some of Freedom City's worst to take shelter from the best gone evil. Some stalk their enemies with cruel, predatory intent. Their acts are showy and terrifying, sending the civilians in the street running in fear from their erstwhile protectors and criminals alike. Though deaths are largely limited to villains and criminals, the deeds are frightening enough, and deliberately, _mockingly_ public enough to strike at the very heart of Freedom City's trust in its heroes. As heroes and villains alike go mad, the heroes of Freedom must rally like never before to defend themselves, their families, and their cities from this unexpected attack. The 'wrathful', as the press has dubbed them, will happily tell anyone what they're doing: Freedom City has tolerated scum and villainy for too long, and now they're going to destroy the enemies of Freedom whatever it takes, and whoever they happen to be. It looks as though judgement day has come... Vignettes might include: Dealing with panicked mobs fleeing a particular crisis, or even one that has turned on another costumed hero in a moment of panic they will later bitterly repent Fighting a hero or villain 'gone mad', they are frightening foes who attempt to persuade the other heroes to join them in their campaign of violence before turning on their erstwhile ally with vicious intent. (make sure to get approval for the use of any canon NPCs in this capacity) If cornered, they will fight to the death. Helping investigate the crisis, looking for psychic spoor, computer linkups, poison or disease in the air, and whatever else might have caused this terrible transformation Reassuring the public, either on TV or in person, that they're going to solve this, and that they might even know who it is that's behind it. Blowing up one of the control boxes, and dealing with its various Foundry bodyguards [Note] Associated Threads: These Chains On Me: Miss Americana and Gabriel, and a mixed bag of allies, deal with an attempt by Harrier to blow up Blackstone Prison and kill the inmates there. Arms and the Man: It's Jill O'Cure vs. the Interceptors as she eliminates a jobber villain for them; permanently! Time and Chance: A battle between gangsters and bikers takes on a whole new terrifying turn as Jubatus, Velocity, and Silver Spider take on a Bee-Keeper gone bad! Pale Moonlight: Blue Jay deals with a battle between Congressman Aaron Walsh and some Terminus babies by shooting as many of them as possible with arrows while Blod, El Heraldo, Warp, and Kit take her on! Counterfeit Medications: When Wander kills Jonathan Grant during a board meeting, what will her lover Midnight, the rest of the Liberty League, and old friends Cobalt Templar and le Renard Bleu do? War of the Worlds: Young Freedom learns that home isn't necessarily where the heart is Checks: DC 20 Bluff, Perform, Sense Motive The 'wrathful' are obviously playing to the crowd, whipping up terror among civilians with their deeds as much as actually killing criminals, and specifically picking opportunities for showy, violent fights with other supers over general mayhem. DC 25 Computers/Technology There are radio signals passing between most of the maddened super-people emanating from various control boxes in Freedom City. Blowing them up should deal with some, if not all, of the 'wrathful' in the area. Careful, though, because those boxes have powerful robot guardians of their own... I will provide further information once one of the wrathful takes significant damage in combat. Send me a PM, or post here, with Vignette ideas or other stories you'd like to spring from this!

Another one, already? Sure, why not? FC:PbP is offering the community another "vignette" opportunity! Thinking on the fact that The Dark Knight Rises is coming out this month -- and how it seems to be drawing heavy inspiration from the arc that introduced Bane, "KnightFall" -- we might as well offer something thematically similar for our heroes: The Crucible. Who: Any player who is interested. Please clearly label which character the Vignette applies to. What: As either part of a plot by some sort of criminal mastermind (August Roman is always a safe bet) or just a string of really bad luck, the heroes of Freedom City end up experiencing trials throughout the month that take them to the limit. Gina may have to deal with a Die Hard situation at HAX where she's cut off from Miss A. Citizen might end up dealing with a magnetic field-manipulating terrorist threatening to crush Pyramid Plaza. Nick Cimitiere finds himself cut off from his necromancy and thrust into the deeper part of Tartarus. And, of course, there's always the good old-fashioned archvillain team up. And the hero rises again, bruised, battered, but not broken. When: The deadline for submissions will be Tuesday, July 31st, by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). The time the vignettes themselves take place is up to you. Where: Anywhere in the campaign setting; the written Vignettes should be posted in this thread. Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to think more deeply about (or put a new spin on) your characters, and to earn a bonus PP for your character for the month of July. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this very thread here! Additional Notes/Clarification: Vignettes do not count as posts. Post here with questions. Blue Jay: Coming of Age Cannonade: Reforged Nick Cimitiere: Down in the Ground Where the Dead Men Go Cobalt Templar: [untitled] Crimson Tiger: [untitled] Doktor Archeville: The Reformatting Gabriel: [untitled] Harrier: Even When The Music's Gone Ironclad: Breaking the Bank King of Suits: Strength is All Myrmidon: History Repeating Rene de Saens: The Great Retreat Silver Spider: Sting of the Scarlet Scorpion Supercape: Heavy Metal Thrash Voltage: Thirty-Six Seconds

FC:PbP is offering the community another "vignette" opportunity! A Day in the Limelight! (Alternate titles: "Agent Coulson's Day Off", "Rosencrantz and Guilderstern Are Superheroes") From Doktor Archeville's robot gorilla butler to Citizen's dog, there are a million stories in Freedom City that haven't yet been told. Until now! Write a story about someone in your hero's supporting cast -- a Minion, Sidekick, or even an un-statted character. "But Dok, you mad, handsome Admin!," you cry, "what if my character doesn't have any supporting cast?!" A fair question, especially for our players who are still semi-new. As an alternative to the "Day in the Limelight" idea, we're also allowing you to go back and revisit our old vignettes. Not everyone's had a chance to submit something for all of them, and even if you have, some of them (like the New Year's Eve ones) could be redone. And here's a double secret bonus (it's my birthday this month, I'm feeling generous): in honor of the Avengers movie which came out last month -- in which many heroes assembled together -- we will allow you to do the PC Meet Up vignette as a bonus, second vignette this month! (I.e. you can do two Vignettes per character this month, but if you do, one must be the PC Meet-Up one.) Who: Any player who is interested. What: See prior Vignette instructions When: The deadline for submissions will be Saturday, June 30th by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). The time the vignettes themselves take place is detailed in the individual vignette entries. Where: See prior Vignette. Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to think more deeply about (or put a new spin on) your characters, and to earn a bonus PP (or two!) for your character for the month of June. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this very thread here! Additional Notes/Clarification: Vignettes do not count as posts. The "Musical episode" vignette may take place in June 2009 (the time of the original episode), or at a later time. If doing so during the original event, but your char was not in FC (or not an active superhero at the time), you can still do so; the magic reaches out to those destined for greatness. If at a later time, please include something about your character finding an odd crystal or something which had captured some of the magic, and releases it when your char touches it. Post here with questions. Blodeuwedd: NPC Spotlight (Miranda) Cannonade: NPC Spotlight (Andy) Cannonade: PC Meet-Up (w/ Nick Cimitiere & Temperance) Nick Cimitiere: Horror Vignette Nick Cimitiere: PC Meet-Up (w/ Cannonade & Temperance) Citizen: PC Meet-Up (w/ Harrier) Citizen: NPC Spotlight (Rogue) Cobalt Templar: NPC Spotlight (Corbin Hughes of Erde) Crimson Tiger: NPC Spotlight (Black Tiger) Crimson Tiger: PC Meet-Up (w/ Voltage) Dead Head: PC Meet-Up (w/ Doktor Archeville & Protectron) Doktor Archeville: PC Meet-Up (w/ Dead Head & Protectron) Dragonfly: NPC Spotlight (Puppy) Edge: NPC Spotlight (Martha) Fleur de Joie: NPC Spotlight (Amaryllis) Fleur de Joie: PC Meet-Up (w/ Wander) Gabriel: NPC Spotlight (Sonya) Gaian Knight: NPC Spotlight (Tiamat) Harrier: NPC Spotlight (FLSCH) Harrier: PC Meet-Up (w/ Citizen) El Heraldo: NPC Spotlight (Galanta) Ironclad: NPC Spotlight (Sonya) Jack of all Blades: NPC Spotlight (Yolanda) Jubatus: NPC Spotlight (Ed Halstonne) King of Suits: NPC Spotlight (Ace of Suits) Lord Steam: NPC Vignette (Blakely) Lord Steam: PC Meet-Up (w/ Rene de Saens) Midnight II: NPC Spotlight (Redbird) Miss Americana: NPC Spotlight (Emerson) Protectron: Birthday Vignette Protectron: PC Meet-Up (w/ Dead Head & Doktor Archeville) Rene de Saens: NPC Vignette (Marcel) Rene de Saens: PC Meet-Up (w/ Lord Steam) Revenant: NPC Spotlight (Kaplina) Silhouette: Time Warp Supercape: NPC Vignette (Leibniz) Supercape: PC Meet-Up (w/ Synth) Synth: PC Meet-Up (w/ Supercape) Temperance: NPC Spotlight (Michael Oxum) Temperance: PC Meet-Up (w/ Cannonade & Nick Cimitiere) Voltage: PC Meet-Up (w/ Crimson Tiger) Wander: NPC Spotlight (Singularity) Wander: PC Meet-Up (w/ Fleur de Joie) Young Brittania: NPC Spotlight (Maggie)

Vignette, March 2012 - Hot Zone On Wednesday, March 7th, 2012, a mutagen is released into Freedom City at large - slipped into the water supply, dispersed as nerve gas in a number of public locations, and engineered to ensure transmission via skin-to-skin contact. By the end of the day, the majority of Freedom City has developed superpowers, and only a few of them have any control over them. And heroes are not immune, as some find themselves dealing with new powers beyond their ken - or find reliable old talents have fallen out of their grasp. A powers pusher by the name of Mister Motley claims responsibility, and appears to have some powerful backers. The city is placed under quarantine by the federal government to prevent the further spread of the mutagen - and worse, it appears that the mutagen burns out the immune system of those infected, giving everyone affected two months to live unless a cure is found. The heroes of Freedom City are doing their best to ensure the city remains fully operational despite the emergency - but with everyone empowered, chaos in the streets, and Mister Motley's backers in SHADOW pulling the strings, can they keep everything together until a cure is found? Who: Any player who is interested. What: Write the story of your character as they deal with Freedom City falling under quarantine as its citizens gain powers far beyond their control. Threats include: Uncontrolled power eruptions threatening to do damage to both the infrastructure and citizenry of Freedom. Two-bit crooks finding their powers upjumped and trying to seize power amidst the chaos. Average citizens coming to terms with their powers in the worst ways possible - turning to violent vigilantism, or attempting to gain vengeance on those who wronged them. Established villains attempting to take advantage of the confusion and the weak spots in the infrastructure during the emergency (e.g., the Green Man attempting to booby trap much-needed produce). SHADOW operatives taking advantage of the madness and hauling in affected citizens for "study." Plots include: Helping to keep things operational during the week-long emergency. Working to find a cure for the effects of Proteus. Wrestling with new powers, losing your existing powers, or helping family members and loved ones with their new abilities. Length should be at least one (1) page per character involved. When: The week of March 7th - March 14th, 2012. Your vignette is due March 31st, 2012 at midnight EST. Where: The greater Freedom City area - or outside, if your character was out-of-town when the quarantine came down. Why: To help keep the peace as chaos reigns in Freedom City, to search for a way to restore order, and to save the city's people from a slow death. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this thread. That way everyone will be able to see it, and play off it as appropriate. Vignettes Cannonade Catalyst Nick Cimitiere Cobalt Templar Doktor Archeville Edge Fleur de Joie Fulcrum Gaian Knight Gabriel Harrier El Heraldo Ironclad King of Suits Lord Steam Medic Midnight II (joint w/ Wander) Myrmidon Protectron Rene de Saens Silhouette Supercape Synth Voltage Wander (joint w/ Midnight II) Weaver Whiplash

FC:PbP is offering the community another "vignette" opportunity! December is a hectic month for many. For students and teachers, it's the end of the Fall semester, so tests and projects are due. There's also the assorted holidays, and the rush of gift-buying and -making, decorating, baking, and spending time with friends & family. But we also know you like to post here, and chances to earn extra points. This month, we're giving players the chance to revisit our old vignettes. Not everyone's had a chance to submit something for all of them, and even if you have, some of them (like the New Year's Eve ones) could be redone. Who: Any player who is interested. What: See prior Vignette instructions When: The deadline for submissions will be Saturday, December 31st by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). The time the vignettes themselves take place is detailed in the individual vignette entries. Where: See prior Vignette. Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to think more deeply about (or put a new spin on) your characters, and to earn a bonus PP for your character for the month of December. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this very thread here! Additional Notes/Clarification: Vignettes do not count as posts. The "Musical episode" vignette may take place in June 2009 (the time of the original episode), or at a later time. If doing so during the original event, but your char was not in FC (or not an active superhero at the time), you can still do so; the magic reaches out to those destined for greatness. If at a later time, please include something about your character finding an odd crystal or something which had captured some of the magic, and releases it when your char touches it. Post here with questions. Cannonade: [What Price Freedom?] Know Your Rights Catalyst: The Masks We Wear Changeling: The Masks We Wear Nick Cimitiere: [House of L] Lost Highways Citizen: [House of L] Citizen: Behold the Citizen! Doktor Archeville: [House of L] Doktor Archeville: Blood & Iron Fulcrum: [bloody Valentine] Takes One To Know One Gabriel: %5BMusical%5D Songs & Revelations Harrier: %5BBirthday%5DHarrier: Who You Are In The Dark King of Suits: [House of L] Sanded King Lord Steam: Ia! Ia! Archeville ftaghn! Myrmidon: The Masks We Wear: Personas non Grata Rene de Saens: Birthday Supercape: What Price Freedom? Synth: Birthday Wander: [Masks We Wear] Don't Judge A Book Weaver: The First Mask We Wear

September Vignette (The Gorgon Comes!) For a week in September, 2011 from September 20-27, the World of Freedom sees among its darkest hours as the Gorgon, the all-preserving, all-transforming, comes to the Solar System to transform the planet Earth into a sterile ball of ever-devouring nanites. Though the heroes of Freedom do succeed in defeating the Gorgon before the planet can be shattered, the cost is high: there is global rioting and panic as she comes; weather disasters and tectonic shifts at her arrival, and finally the terrible chaos of her defeat. Worst of all are the threats that come from within, as the heroes of Freedom learn that the legacy of the Preservers may run far deeper, and be far darker, than they ever anticipated. Who: Any player who is interested. Characters who are involved in main threads may post Vignettes as well. What: Write the story of your character as they battle a world slowly going mad before incipient Armageddon. Threats include: Apocalyptic end-times riots in the Fens Giant plant monsters in the West End Incoming space debris (everywhere) Criminals, large and small, taking advantage of the chaos for robberies Space pirates raiding the Earth one last time Storms, earthquakes, tidal waves, and other disasters Plots include: Helping friends and family deal with the disaster Fighting bad guys Assisting with the evacuation of select people to other places Length should be at least one (1) page per character involved. When: The week of September 20-27, 2011. Your vignette is due September 30, 2011 at midnight EST. Where: Anywhere, as there are threats all over! Why: To stop the Gorgon from destroying all life on Earth, as well as to experiment with a big all-site event where everyone can feel included. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this thread. This way everyone will be able to see it, and play off it as appropriate. Bluesman Cannonade Nick Cimitiere Citizen Cobalt Templar Edge Flora Gabriel Harrier Ironclad King of Suits Lord Steam Rene de Saens Spitfire Supercape Wander Wisp

The Gorgon is coming (in a month), but before the threat of crystallizing order, Freedom -- nay, the very world -- shall face unfettered chaos! Will the heroes be able to push back the tide before all is lost? Who: Any player who is A] interested, and B] has a character not already involved in the main thread. What: Tell the story of your character fighting back these city- and world-wide threats. Will they fight Deep Ones coming in from the sea? Save any hostages still within the submarine? Attack the Super-Grue Drones, in Freedom or in some other city? Track their source, in the spooky (and metahuman power-negating) German castle? Try to track & confront the mysterious armored figure who made the announcement which preceded all this? Something else (which would need to be cleared with me)? NOTE: In addition to the crises listed in that News post, there are two other things of note that PCs can respond to: A] A few minutes after the mysterious armored figure's announcement, a mass of the dead rise up in Germany and surrounding countries, and a large mass of creatures/monsters from the South American rainforest; both groups fly (or, more accurately, are pulled by some force) to Freedom City, at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour, and converge into one spot in North Bay, where they merge into a Gigantosaur-sized thing. (The Giant Tentacle Monster that Dok turns into.) Good thing the Interceptors (and former Knights of Freedom) are there to fight it, but they may need some help! B] At around the same time as that, throughout the world -- mostly Europe, but pockets all over -- random people go completely insane and attack everyone and everything near them. Length should be at least one (1) page per character involved. When: All these will be taking place on June 17th, 2011, a Friday (two weeks after the Claremont Graduation). The deadline for submissions will be Sunday, July 31st, by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). Where: Anywhere, as there are threats all over! Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to help me conclude a big story arc for my namesake character, and to earn a bonus PP for your characters (the ones involved in this Vignette) for the month of July. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, post it in this thread. This way everyone will be able to see it, and play off it as appropriate. If you've got questions, post them here, PM them to me, or ask in Chat. Vignettes Posted Arcturus: fights Metaceptors in the West End! Blueshift: goes to Dok's super-secret asteroid belt HQ, finds much more than she bargained for! Cannonade: Fights maddened hordes in Southside! Citizen: fighting Evil!Vince in the Freedom Hall computers! Cobalt Templar: Fights Metaceptors throughout Freedom City! Crow: Fights Metacetpors in Bayview, receives unexpected help from... his mother? Dark Star: Fights Metaceptors and madmen all over the globe! Dragonfly: 'ports up to ArcheStern and repurposes its communications array into a massive microwave laser, which she fires at the Giant Tentacle Monster rampaging around North Bay! Edge: Helps free the prisoners of Schloss Wissenschaft, then rains meteors upon it! Fleur de Joie: Takes in precious refugees at Sanctuary! Gabriel: Attacks the super-sub of the Deep Ones with Ironclad! Harrier: got kidnapped by Deep Ones, but he turns the tables on them! Ironclad: Attacks the super-sub of the Deep Ones with Gabriel! King of Suits: Defends the Fens from Deep Ones and Metaceptors! Midnight: Saves people from the collapsing Centery Narrows Bridge with Wander! Miss Americana: shutting down ArcheTech teleportals! Myrmidon: Pushes back the Deep Ones at Riverside! Nick Cimitiere: Exorcises the dead from the Giant Tentacle Beast rampaging around North Bay! Overclock: Fights Metaceptors near Master Lee's in Hanover! Push: Keeps Metacetpors off Blueshift's back as she hax Nichtuberall's systems! Rene de Saens: painting/trapping monsters in Mexico! Silhouette: allows herself to be kidnapped by Deep Ones so she can find/free the other folks they're taking! Supercape: fighting Heavy Metal, maddened by the Blood of Archeville! Torque: Fights Grue & screaming madmen in Freedom City! Vanguard: The monsters in West End who oppose his shield must yield! Victory: Fights Metaceptors alongside Push up in Nichtuberal, but then faces a figure from his past. Warlock: While flying from Kingston to Riverside, is seized upon by eldritch forces and transmogrified back into Kid Cthulhu! But is it as a hero... or a servant? Wander: Saves people from the collapsing Centery Narrows Bridge with Midnight!

FC:PbP is offering the community another "vignette" opportunity. If you'd like to read about our previous vignettes, check here. In the far future of 2525, the Freedom Legion does its best to restore the forgotten past of the Freedom League and the heroes of Freedom who lived and died so many centuries ago. But the great electronics crash of the 22nd century and the wars that followed wiped so many records, and even many so-called immortals are dead, silent, untrustworthy, or even simply mistaken about the long ago world of so many centuries ago. These stories are confused, and get a great many facts wrong. Sometimes they even get the era and planet where they lived wrong! (There have been a great many heroes in Freedom’s history...) But the ultimate truth of those long-ago heroes still shines through. (This vignette is inspired by this 1996 DC Crossover Legends of the Dead Earth.) Who: Any player who is interested, for one (or more) of their characters. What: Tell the story of your character as remembered by those who came long after him or her, drawing on the ancient archetypes which so many of them represent. This can take the form of someone telling the story in the 2500s, or of simply that story itself as recreated by the hardworking super-historians of the far future. Ex.: Avenger! In Victorian Freedom, Jack Faretti hunts a grim blade-wielding killer called Jack o’Knives, all the while dealing with the grim hungers of his revenant condition.Length should be at least one (1) page per character involved. When: The deadline for submissions will be Thursday, June 30th, by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). Where: Anywhere. When you submit your vignette, please make a note clearly indicating in which forum it should be posted. Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to think more deeply about your characters, and to earn a bonus PP for your characters (the ones involved in this Vignette) for the month of June. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, PM it to one of the Refs (AvengerAssembled, Ecalsneerg, Geez3r, ShaenTheBrain, or myself). When all the stories are in, one of our staff members will post them to the appropriate forums (which is why we need you to be sure to tell us where it should go!), and provide links to them in this thread. DO NOT post them in a forum yourself, otherwise it will not be counted for this exercise. Animus: Untitled Blueshift: I, Hero Cannonade: Untitled Citizen: Out Into The World Cobalt Templar: Horse of a Different Color Crow: Campfire Tales Dark Star: Untitled Doktor Archeville: Lo, Praise to Archeville! Dragonfly: Children Fleur de Joie: Bedtime Ztory Freedom Angel: The Last City Fulcrum: The Age of Aquarius Gabriel: A Life of Sacrifice Gaian Knight: Relics Geckoman: Untitled Glowstar: Untitled Harrier: No King But Freedom Ironclad: Untitled Jack of all Blade: Children of the 52 Jade Dragon: Untitled Jubatus: Knowledge Is Power King of Suits: Legend of the King of Suits Midnight (II): Untitled Miss Americana: Robot's Tomb Myrmidon: Glory of the Many Nick Cimitiere: Untitled Push: Tell It Truly Rene deSaens: Untitled Silhouette: Bedtime Stories Supercape: Untitled Wander: K. Erin Hunter

FC:PbP is offering the community another "vignette" opportunity. If you'd like to read about our previous vignettes, check here. "The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once." -- Albert Einstein Tears in the very fabric of spacetime are appearing all over Freedom City! Some are spitting things out from different times, some are sucking in people and sending them to the past or future! What's causing them? Is this a prelude to some invasion? The result of an out-of-control experiment in some Hanover or ASTRO Labs workshop? (The largest concentration are showing up in Hanover, though there are quite a few in City Center, Riverside, Waterfront, and West Side, and a scattering in the other neighborhoods, as well as Europe, Japan, South America, and in space orbiting Earth!) There is one small consolation: all the portals do eventually close on their own, and as they do they pull/send back everything they took to their proper place. The effects of whatever happened to them remains, though, so a traffic cop trampled by mastodons in the Ice Age is going to come back to the present as a frozen & mashed corpse. Also, while the portals on this end all remain for but a day at most, the time spent on the other side is not always the same: someone could be pulled from their home during breakfast and sucked into the future, and spit back out into the present at suppertime, but have spent 20 years fighting bloodthirsty cyborg cannibals! Who: Any player who is interested, for one (or more) of their characters. What: Write a vignette featuring your character's encounter with one of these time portals. These can take two broad forms: 1) Facing something that pops out of a portal from another time. Will your character fight a megasquid from the year 200,002,003 AD? A stampeding herd of mastodons? A gang of splicers on flying motorcycles from 2041? A horde of viking berserkers, who are running headlong into a group of Tokugawan samurai? Feed scavengers from the Crash of 2112? Save the life of your own great-great-grandfather who stumbled into the path of an oncoming train? Or your own great-great-great-great-granddaughter? 2) Your char is sucked into another time, wherein hijinx ensue until the event's end snaps you back to the present. Any future (the MC2-esque FC2, the Batman Beyond expy Future Freedom of 2041, the Legion of Super-Heroes-inspired Galactic Freedom of 2525, or something ever farther and wilder) is game, as is any era of history. But there is a caveat: any trips via these portals is of the "predestination paradox" variety. I.e., if you go to the past, you're going to the true past of Freedom, whatever you do there will really happen in the timeline (rather than splitting off a separate timeline/universe like Doc Tomorrow did). Which is not to say you're totally restricted: if you're a legacy character, perhaps it turns out that you had a hand in inspiring the founder of your legacy! Or perhaps you are one of those "Unknown Soldiers" who mysteriously appeared during a crucial time, turned the tide of battle, then disappeared just as mysteriously. Length should be at least one (1) page per character involved. When: The deadline for submissions will be Saturday, April 30th, by 11:59 PM EST (GMT -5). The portals themselves will be appearing on April 15th (Tax Day!). Where: Anywhere. When you submit your vignette, please make a note clearly indicating in which forum it should be posted. Why: To enhance our community, to flex your writing muscles, to think more deeply about your characters, and to earn a bonus PP for your characters (the ones involved in this Vignette) for the month of April. How: Once your story is finished and proofed, PM it to one of the Refs (AvengerAssembled, Ecalsneerg, Geez3r, ShaenTheBrain, or myself). When all the stories are in, one of our staff members will post them to the appropriate forums (which is why we need you to be sure to tell us where it should go!), and provide links to them in this thread. DO NOT post them in a forum yourself, otherwise it will not be counted for this exercise. Cannonade Cobalt Templar Dead Head Doktor Archeville Dragonfly Dynamo Edge Fenris Fleur de Joie Fulcrum Gabriel Harrier Ironclad Jack of all Blades Lord Steam Miss Americana Myrmidon Nick Cimitiere Push Rene de Saens Supercape

September 24th, 2008 Gear City 13th Street, Tonatini’s Pizza Parlor Push awoke with a start, clutching his head and groaning. One minute he’d been riding to see Blueshift, the next, a blinding flash and the feeling like he’d been sucked into a never-ending vortex. In fact, it had been a oddly familiar sensation. Familiar in the sense of being yanked through time and space. Not good. He lifted his head, looking about, and the kineticist’s heart practically stopped. He recognized this place. An alley. An alley where he'd made his first bust after getting his abilities. A few blocks away from Tonatini’s pizza parlor. Tonatini's. His favourite restaurant in… Gear City. He was home. “Oh. Crap.†Push looked down from the sky, mind awhirl with a mess of thoughts. Some were amused. Others were excited. He was home! Back in Gear City, no matter when or why, but he was back home! He recognized the streets. He recognized a few people, though he made damn sure he was out of sight when he spotted them. He was admittedly confused and stunned, but it really was Gear City, as if he’d never left it. A quiet voice in the back of his head asked why, but he stifled it as he wandered the skyline. Finally, his wandering jets brought him to a building overlooking his and Mike’s old apartment above Lazarus Auto Repair. He looked down at it, wondering if Michael was up enjoying a huge hoagie at the old grease-covered linoleum table the two often had to eat from, or was downstairs working on some poor busted transmission. The front door opened, and he immediately ducked behind a nearby billboard, peering out and gaping as a very recognizeable figure walked out. It was himself. Past-self. Gabriel Quinn, pre-museum. "Oh. Crap." Push trailed himself, his psyche practically gibbering as he tailed what could only be his past self. He saw Gabriel Quinn reach into his pocket, and he remembered doing that exact same movement. He remembered the sensation of anxiety his doppelganger below seemed to be going through. But as much as he cudgelled his memory, he couldn’t recall what he was anxious over! It was frustrating as all hell as he looked down upon himself. A crazy thought filled his mind as he looked at Past-Quinn walk across the street, an unholy urge to fly down and seize his past self, telling him everything of what would be coming. Of Mr. Scratch and the chase across the USA. Of the demons and nightmares that’d become his every waking moment for the next two years. Of… “Oh. Crap.†The knowledge hit him at the same time the hired thug’s baseball bat hit his counterpart’s head. Of Associate Professor Wyrd. Of Anastasia. The warehouse was just as he remembered it, and he stared at the outside from the nearby rooftop with no small amount of trepidation. His kinetic vision was on full bore, and he could see through the walls as the currents of movement and energy inside revealed one of his less-savory memories. Anastasia’s machine was directly above his counterpart, and he saw Past-Push turn his head towards the female inventor. Finally, he turned his gaze on the young woman. Funnily enough, it hurt less seeing her through this vision than it would have looking at her in his normal vision. He was surprised when he saw it was a thug that had clubbed his past self, for a long time he’d labored under the illusion that Anastasia had done it herself. In a way, it was relieving. That she didn’t actually hurt him. Yeah, that was bull. She hurt him, alright. But then, so did he. They both did. Neither had the guts to come forward and tell the other who each other was. But while he was idiot enough to keep up an illusion, she’d tried to solve it in her own mad way. It was almost heartwarming, if it wasn’t so damn painful to watch. He saw his counterpart break the table’s binds, leaping off with a surge of energy that accidentally overloaded a nearby breaker. With almost clinical detachment he noted the chain reaction that lead to the destruction of the machine, and the subsequent burning of the building. He saw the energy silhouette that was himself try to force himself forward. He saw the silhouette that was Anastasia draw back, and the pile of debris that collapsed between them fall. And he saw his counterpart forced back. But the silhouette of his ex-girlfriend remained there, in the centre of the flames. Push watched as the outline fell to her knees in the centre of the inferno, and for a split-second, time practically froze for the mutant. She didn’t run. They never found any body in the collapsed building. Sure, she could have been ashes, but surely they’d have found something of hers. Then why didn’t she run? Why didn’t she escape? He never really came to a decision. There really wasn't one to make. Without thinking he leapt forward, kicking in the jets and covering his head as he rushed forward like a runaway meteor, going straight through the burning ceiling and into the conflagration. Wielding energies that would have been far beyond his abilities all those years ago, he pushed and bulled his way through the destruction, blasting holes in collapsed cisterns and shoving aside metal beams with his telekinesis. Flames licked at his coat and scarf, but he ignored them. The smoke made his vision and head swim, but he ignored that too. Every synapse in his brain was overloaded by one thought, to save the woman that nearly killed him. Finally, he reached Anastasia’s unconscious body, and he cradled her in his arms. Smoke inhalation, it had to be. She was unmoving, barely even breathing. As the warehouse collapsed around him, he kicked in what was left of his reserve, shooting up and through the roof, shielding her with his body as his back went straight through the metal ceiling. It hurt like a bitch, but it was all over. He’d done it. That thought ran through his brain as he landed on a nearby rooftop and collapsed, feeling that same sensation of being pulled into a vortex as he blacked out. April 20th, 2011 Freedom City Midtown He woke up in Freedom City, a few hours after he’d “leftâ€. She was right beside him, still unconscious. If you’d asked the kineticist, he honestly could not have told you if he thought the future was changed or unchanged. Sure, he’d saved Anastasia, but he didn’t know if she had really died in that fire, or if he’d stuck around long enough in the past, he’d have seen his future self finish the job. The doctors had swallowed the excuse he’d given them, amazingly. A fire downtown, and that he’d been on the scene in time to save her. The fact that he’d paid quite a bit of cash from L.A.I.R’s accounts to get her treated ASAP was glossed over in his mind. Coma, they said. They didn’t know when she was going to wake up. She was in a comfortable, white-sheeted bed now, hooked up to all kinds of machinery to keep her alive. Back in Gear City, he’d never caught Associate Professor Wyrd. For all intents and purposes, Anastasia Wyrd had never existed. Now a person with no identity was in the ICU. Nobody knew that she was alive but him, now. He looked at the hospital across the street, legs hanging over the edge, and pondered. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

In the night sky above Freedom City’s West End, a swift figure in royal blue leapt gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, racing through shadows only to reappear suddenly in the space over alleyways, flipping and tumbling like an acrobat. The swashbuckling swordsman known as Jack of all Blades knew every brick and stone of his neighbourhood so completely that he barely had to look where he was going. And that’s why nobody in their right mind causes trouble on my turf. Which made it all the more surprising when, at the apex of a gratuitously showy aerial tumble, the air seemed to rend itself before him, opening into a wormhole rift through which the flailing vigilante fell! "Gah! I swear if I end up in some Medieval Times knock off one more time..." Jack grated as he fell through warped space uncontrollably, only to suddenly be ejected back out into the night. Now, however, the city around him was well lit my neon light as he reflexively shot off his grappling line and swung down to the street. Looking about, he found that the buildings around him had sprung up into monstrosities several times the size they’d been moments ago. There was no mistaking that it was still the West End; he still recognised a handful on landmarks that had been incorporated into the unchecked urban sprawl, which seemed old enough now to look dingy and in disrepair. "Kansas, Toto, so on and so forth," Jack muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. As the hero attempted to get his bearings, high pitched cackling drew his attention. Out of the alley, a quintet of youths in gaudy, shredded clothes emerged, displaying a menacing mix of oversized cybernetic enhancements and predatory animalistic qualities. "Looks like somebody got lost on the way to the costume party," the group’s jackal faced leader snickered, brandishing foot long metal claws as his gang surrounded their quarry. "Looks like you got lost on your way to the hospital, twip," a bold voice called from above a moment before a young black man in a leather jacket swung down to deliver a haymaker punch to the gang leader’s face, sending him reeling. "How ‘bout I draw you a map?" the new arrival grinned, gleaming white smile contrasting with the spade shaped tattoo over his left eye. "It’s a Fifty-Two!" a thug with mechanical wings cried, attempting to lift off into the air a moment before a willowy girl with shock white hair slipped from a darkened corner and laid him out with a flurry of blows from her metallic bo staff. What first appeared to be red tear drops inscribed under her right eye were, on closer inspection, a trio of diamonds arranged in a horizontal line. A motorcycle -like vehicle that floated well off of the ground roared onto the scene, it’s smirking driver bringing it to a sharp halt in front of the remaining cyborgs. "Ain’t you ever heard of a pocket pair?" he quipped with a distinct twang, patting a stylised set of hearts painted on the side of his ride while the amazonian blonde riding behind him trained an arrow notched in her composite bow on the suddenly outnumbered aggressors. Pulling the bowstring back with muscular ease revealed a club shaped cut-out in her top, made somewhat less alluring by the grim set of her tanned lips. Sensing that they were well and truly outmatched the remaining would-be muggers gathered up their downed friends and beat a hasty retreat back down the alley. A bemused Jack was left to regard his new-found saviours with an arched brow. "Pretty slick moves, there. Thanks." "Heh, no sweat," the jacketed youth assured the swordsman, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "S’like the old man always says: nobody in their right mind causes trouble on the Fifty-Twos’ turf." "The police may be too afraid to venture here," the brooding archer intoned with more than a little heated anger, "but the West Quarter is not without defenders." "Or good taste," her red haired companion chimed in. "I mean, lordy, splicin’ and ‘borgin’? 2040 called, they want their feeb back!" The joke drew an amused giggle from the otherwise silent martial artist who had hopped up to balance impossibly in a crouch on the top of her staff. "...right." Before the conversation could continue, another rippling portal opened up in the middle of the empty street. "Whoa, think that’s my ride, folks," the swordsman observed, calling over his shoulder as he ran toward the rift and jumped in. "Keep up the good work!"

April 15, 2011 Fenris didn't usually suit up so early in the day; he wasn't an all-night-patrol hero like some, but he preferred to have at least some shadows to work with. If nothing else, it discouraged people from trying to figure out everything about his armor from the get-go. 'Never hurts to have a little mystery in life, people. Especially if that mystery means you don't get my tech...' Suddenly, alarms blared as multiple portals started tearing open in the sky all over the city! He sped down to street level, only a couple of blocks away from The Lab. He saw a couple of portals open nearby and produce... “Pirates? Really? That's kind of...Oh you're kidding me.†Another portal had disgorged what looked like “classical†ninjas. Somehow, the two groups were already fighting, swords of various kinds whirring through the air, throwing knives and primitive flintlock pistols trying to eliminate enemies at range. Civilians ran in fear, one poor man getting clipped by a throwing knife. “Okay, as much fun as this might be for YouTube later, this needs to stop. Time to shock some sense into them.†With that, Fenris began striding forwards, sending blast after crackling blast out from his PPCs. Each blast seemed to knock another combatant out of the picture; since he was alternating between each group, neither got any major advantage, thus keeping it from being a slaughter. Before long, it was down to the apparent leaders of each group. The pirate was a crusty-looking older fellow, with a whole lot of those pistols and a rather large cutlass. The head ninja was actually smaller than his fellows, but seemed to have an almost supernatural grace about him. The pirate charged first. “That's for me crew! Blasted metal dog-man!†The sword was caught in now-glowing claws, and quickly sundered to utter uselessness. The other hand came up in a devastating uppercut that knocked out a couple of teeth, even as the pirate slipped into an unplanned nap. “Wolf, not dog. Hey, watch the finish!†The ninja had tried to strike his head off while he was distracted. It had only succeeded in scratching the metal, doing no real damage. A quick elbow from Fenris staggered the ninja, and twin PPC blasts put him out of the fight. “Well, that was kind of fun. Minus the lives at risk, I guess.†His head whipped around as his suit picked up a “silent†alarm at The Lab. He sighed. “Bet they're all busy with these portals. Anything setting that off is bound to be bad news.†With that, he flashed away, speeding through the space between space, arriving in a flash of light just down the block from the front of the Lab. For the moment, the building looked intact, but there were three figures in front that looked quite menacing. All three were wearing what looked to be powered armor, but they were easy to tell apart nonetheless. One of them had a good two feet of height on the others, making him something like eight feet tall. He carried what seemed to be a large energy cannon in both hands; the weapon looked more like one designed for a main battle tank. The next, in a suit that bizarrely emphasized the fact that the wearer was female. She seemed to be armed with what looked like a long spear, and bore a jet pack on her back. The final figure, who seemed to be the leader of the merry little band, had a much more “generic†looking suit. He had an over-sized pistol gripped in each hand, and what looked like some sort of sword on his back. All of them looked dangerous. Especially the one pointing the giant gun at the Lab. “Hey! Heavy Weapons Guy! Hope you have insurance on Sasha there!†With only that cry as a warning, Fenris appeared perhaps 50 feet away, firing both PPCs directly into the huge gun. His shots damaged it, but it seemed to still be active, albeit going into a “standby†moder, perhaps to assess damage. Of course, he didn't have much time to think about that, since Leader was firing a barrage of shots at him, and Spear Lady was trying to turn him into a shish-kebab. He blurred away, putting a good 200 feet between them. HWG busied himself getting his gun up and running, Leader hung back, and Spear Gal flew after him. She aimed for his heart, the tip of her spear crackling with energy... Only for Fenris to practically fall backwards, his now-glowing claws swiping upwards at the shaft of the spear. Sparks flew, and the weapon fell to pieces in her hands. Spear Gal dropped the useless metal and drew a combat knife and an over-sized energy pistol. The pistol was also shredded quickly, but the knife managed to cut into his armor somewhat; thankfully, it didn't breach anything. He counter-attacked, punching her several times across the torso, and once in her head. She staggered, and he saw his chance. Getting behind her, he practically shoved both PPC barrels into her suit's backpack (which he figured had most of her power systems and such. With a wordless growl that sounded even worse coming over his speaker, he fired. The results were rather dramatic, as the backpack suffered an overload, producing a small explosion that scorched Fenris's arms and slammed her into the ground. There were a couple of moments where she was wracked by electrical overload, before she was locked inside an inert suit of armor. But Fenris had no time to celebrate, as the HWG was barreling towards him with a bellow of rage. “Sweet on Little Miss Spear here? She's fine; probably a few burnt hairs, definitely some aches and pains in the morning, and obviously a wrecked suit, but she's still alive.†He zipped away from where the large man tried to actually stomp on him, firing a few shots of his PPCs. They cratered the large man's armor, but didn't really slow him down. Fenris frowned inside his helmet; there was no way he was risking getting close enough to try taking him down with his claws. He started zipping around faster and faster, hoping to confuse the large man, or at least outmaneuver him. That was probably the only thing that saved him when he came out of a dash and was staring straight down the barrel of the huge gun the man carried. A barrel that was already starting to fire, having charged up for the last minute or so. Fenris crouched, the jumped high into the air, activating his Vacuum Flux Capacitor as he did so. In the microseconds before he entered that slipstream that would carry him over the large man, the energies of the cannon started to wash over his suit's legs. When he emerged, directly above and behind the large man, his legs were blackened and trailing smoke. He fired two stronger-than-normal shots, disabling the huge suit in a similarly dramatic fashion as the first. The huge cannon sparked and sputtered from the overload, several parts exploding within the casing, leaving it a useless wreck, even as the weilder collapsed. Fenris himself fell into a weary crouch, panting a bit beneath the armor. His legs felt like they were on fire; probably because a good portion of his armor there had been melted off. A couple of his actuators had been fried, too; everything in his legs felt stiff. He was about to stand up when a sword tip found itself resting at the base of his throat. “My my. Another armor user, but this time one of those pathetic “superheroesâ€? Well, perhaps pathetic isn't entirely accurate; you defeated both my comrades with little damage to yourself. But you forgot about me. Now, I'll kill you, and then I'll take what technology I can from the Lab. After that, I'll leave it intact, after planting a few spy devices that are cutting edge in a century or so. From then on, I'll have a free line on tons of great tech, enough to really keep me in the money. This sword's pretty sharp; looks like it's already cutting in. You'll open up like, oh, what's the term? Ah, yes. “Like a tin canâ€, I believe.†The man started to apply pressure, but Fenris suddenly collapsed backward, pulling himself away from the sword. Mostly. It still cut deeply, actually reaching to the final layer above his skin, leaving a mark scored in the interface suit he wore. His left arm snapped up, his blazing claws first scratching, then scoring, then finally severing the blade. It was quickly dropped even as Fenris fired his right PPC into the other armor's shoulder, frying the electronics with a well-placed hit. His enemy, undaunted by only 1 working arm, pulled his other pistol out and started to fire. These shots cratered Fenris's armor, two of them tearing into his own left arm systems, leaving almost that whole side useless. Finally, a lucky shot from Fenris hit Leader on the right side of his neck. The final armor down fried and done for the count, but Fenris hadn't fared much better. His suit was in shambles, and he was barely able to stand and start dashing back to his hidden base. As the armor was peeled off his body, and the automated shop got to work taking care of most of the damage, he was lost in thought. 'They would have walked all over me if I hadn't had the element of surprise. I had that, and I still almost lost. They said they were from a century in the future...I guess that means I need to figure out ways to get at least a century ahead, then. Because if this sort of “portal storm†shows up again, I might end up facing even more of them. And then people die, including myself. I can't let that happen, no matter what the cost.' Soon, he sat down at his drafting computer, and began to tinker with some old nanotechnology designs he'd found half-buried in their archives. Some of these things only needed a few tweaks to be perfected...

Stesha was sleeping when the portals began appearing, not very heroic, but quite necessary nonetheless. She did a lot of sleeping these days, when the opportunity presented itself. Nevertheless, when the "All Hands" signal began broadcasting on her League radio, she didn't hesitate. A long green cloak over black and green maternity clothes passed for a costume these days, and as soon as she managed to get her shoes on, she was ready! Fleur de Joie teleported through the plant network to Hanover, and was immediately swallowed up by a time portal. She was so shocked for a moment that she didn't understand what had happened. She obviously wasn't in Freedom City anymore. She was standing on a hill overlooking a vast and beautiful wilderness that stretched away as far as the eye could see. In the other direction, an ocean gleamed like a blue jewel under a placid sunny sky. In the distance, thousands of shapes flew around a low mountain range... no, wait. Not any shapes, and not mountains. Those were giant bees, and the mountain range was some kind of giant bee metropolis... so this had to be Sanctuary. Not the Sanctuary she knew, but one she'd dreamed of in her heart, one that had decades or centuries of love and devoted care poured into it. The portal she'd gone through had taken her forward in time, she strongly suspected, but not in her own world, in the time of the world she'd built. For a moment, she was too dazzled to even be afraid, or to worry when and how she would ever make it home. "Look at it," she murmured, running her hands over her round tummy. "Look how beautiful it is. It's more than I ever imagined. I wonder how long it took to make all of this happen..." Cleaning the ocean alone had surely been the work of a lifetime, but how long would her lifetime be? That was an answer she didn't have, but if it wasn't long enough, then someone else had obviously taken up the mantle. She was shaken from her reverie at the sound of a voice behind her. "Stesha? My love, is it you?" She turned around and saw Dark Star, standing just a few yards away, his blank face and body revealing nothing, as usual, but still enormously reassuring. "Derrick, thank god you're here!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "I thought I was all alone here, and I don't know how to get back. Do you know when this is? Did we really come forward in time?" Even as she stepped towards him he was changing, undergoing the familiar transformation from demigod to the man she loved, except now he was different. She stopped short, just before going into his arms. This Derrick was older, with shocks of silver in his hair and lines in his face, a man who looked as though he'd carried burdens that were far too heavy for far too long. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew it wasn't a doppelganger or a deception, it was really him. "Derrick?" she asked, her voice a whisper. "You came forward," he told her, his voice cracking at the edges with unspoken emotion. "You came forward into the future and saw Sanctuary in a thousand years' time, looking from this hilltop. When you went home, you told me about the trip, where you'd landed and what you'd seen. And I.. I remembered, and I came here, so that when you arrived, I would be here waiting for you. It's been so long, but I had to speak with you one more time..." With that, he took her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss full of desperate longing and loneliness and love, gentle despite its passion. It was very unlike the Derrick she knew, and yet so like him at the same time that she couldn't resist putting her arm around him and returning it. Bittersweet as it was, the moment couldn't last forever. Stesha still needed to know what was going on, and finally she pulled away. "Why did you come?" she asked him. "I mean, isn't it risky to tamper with the past, even like this? How did you know exactly when I would be here?" "I didn't," he said, his voice rough as he lay a hand lightly on her stomach. "I've waited here ten years, just for the chance to speak with you, with you as you are now, before anything else. There are hard times coming, my love, and I needed to tell you how immensely sorry I am that any of it has to happen. I know that it will be difficult to understand, and perhaps impossible to forgive, but for so many years I have regretted that I was never able to ask your forgiveness." "Ask forgiveness for what?" Stesha asked, suddenly afraid. Not of this Derrick, or even of the situation she found herself in, but for whatever he had done that so haunted him over the centuries. "What's going to happen? Maybe there's a way to change it, to make things right, if you tell me..." Derrick shook his head. "A thousand years I've asked myself what I could have done differently, if there wasn't something I could've changed, a duty I could've ignored while still remaining true to who I am. This ten years it seems I've thought of nothing but that. There are immutable principles in the universe, though, and one of the first and deepest is that heroes must act to preserve life, wherever it is endangered, and whatever the cost. But if I'd had any choice in the matter, I promise I never would have done anything that hurt you, or hurt our child. And I'm so sorry." Stesha blinked with confusion, trying to sort out the thousand thoughts and feelings rushing through her head. "Derrick, I..." He reached out and took her hands, and only then did she notice that her body was already starting to fade, so that he could barely hold onto her. "I will always love you, Stesha," he promised, looking into her eyes. "A thousand years, a million. Forever." "I love you too," she told him, trying to squeeze his fingers with hands that were barely tangible. "And whatever it is, whatever happened, I forgive you!" One last second of contact, as the world turned to white and gray around her, and then he was gone, and Sanctuary was gone, and Stesha was left standing next to a tree in one of the Hanover business parks, as though nothing had ever happened. She stood there for a moment without moving, long enough that a passing civilian asked her if she was all right. "I'm fine, thank you," she said with a reassuring smile, then disappeared into the plants and back home. The all hands signal had stopped, it seemed like things were starting to come under control. Unable to help herself, she picked up her cell phone and called Derrick. "Honey, could you come home?" she asked, not liking the weakness in herself, but not wanting to sit alone with all these worries and fears. "What is it, sweetheart?" Derrick's worried voice came over the phone. "Is it the baby? I'm out in Hanover with the dimensional cleanup, I can be there right away..." "No, no, it's not the baby" she reassured him, taking a deep breath and getting ahold of herself. "The baby is fine, I'm fine. Go ahead and do the cleanup, and I'll talk to you tonight. I love you." "I love you too," he told her, though already he sounded a bit distracted by his work. "See you tonight."

Freedom City was in danger! That was hardly different from any day in the city where weirdness never slept, but today was worse than most. Disappearances were being reported all over the city, people suddenly vanishing, other people and strange creatures appearing out of nowhere, fights and rampages in the streets! It was a bad time, but luckily, Freedom City had its heroes to protect it. One of those heroes, Miss Americana, was already in the air, flying over Hanover as she attempted to suss out the situation. There were disturbances on the ground, sirens blasting, and what looked like... was that a band of Vikings on the ground? A superhero in the blue and gold colors of Claremont Academy seemed to have the situation in hand there, so Miss A flew onward. A few blocks away, she noticed a strange disruption, almost as though reality were bending like the air on a hot summer day. She flew down to get a closer look, turning midair to land... Gina's eyes snapped open as her consciousness rudely and abruptly thudded back into her squishy flesh body. "Goddamn radios," she muttered, hastening over to her work chair and rolling it to her main interface console. Within seconds, she'd activated the robot's implanted locator beacon, the same type used on black boxes and EPIRB units to be traceable from half a world away and in just about any conditions. She zoomed in on Hanover, recalling exactly where she'd been, down to the millimeter and... nothing. There was nothing there. No disturbance, no robot, no locator ping. It was an empty stretch of sidewalk that didn't even show signs of radio interference. She quickly widened the scan, to take in the city, then the whole region. Still nothing! Scanning further would take time, but what else was she going to do? As she waited for the search to run, Gina considered the possibilities. Could the robot have fallen victim to one of the portals and been whisked away to who-knows-where? She had to admit it was looking distinctly likely. That was... not good. Nobody knew what the portals were, or where they opened onto, or if anything that went through one would come back. The Miss Americana robot had only an extremely basic artificial intelligence, enough to maintain a human mien, walk and act as specifically instructed, and seek out solar energy when its battery ran low. There was no possible way it could return on its own to Freedom City. For now, possibly for the foreseeable future, Miss Americana was out of commission. But Freedom City still needed heroes. Gina went upstairs and looked out her front window. It was quiet in the direct view of her house, but she could hear sirens, and people yelling in the distance. Bad things were happening. Surely she could do something. She headed for the door, only to catch a glimpse of herself in the reflection off her cabinets. Dumpy, dowdy, out of shape, dressed in sweats and with her hair ratty, she was nobody's idea of a hero. What the hell was she supposed to do out there anyway, just stand there and hope she scared the invaders or made them recoil with revulsion just to look at her? She didn't have laser beams, she couldn't fly. When it came to saving the city, she was absolutely worthless. Gina retreated downstairs to continue the futile search. Hours later, her search had covered the entire world to no avail. Gina was forced to concede that the robot might be gone entirely. That was a very depressing thought. She prepared herself a supposedly healthy frozen dinner, then added a half pint of Cherry Garcia and a bag of Doritos to her tray and carried it all downstairs to keep working. It could be months before she had another robot working, and even that would require a lot of very uncomfortable contact with the outside world. In that time, who knew what would happen to the contacts and work that Miss Americana had been doing? What would happen to the little girl in Switzerland? Just as Gina stuck the first spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, the locator beacon alert shrilled at her from the computer! Fumbling aside her dinner tray, she dove for the keyboard and interfaced with the local satellite to get a close-up picture of its location. The robot was exactly where she'd left it, in the middle of Hanover, on an empty sidewalk. Only... it didn't look the same at all. Gone was Miss Americana's skintight red-white-and blue uniform, replaced with a long blue dress that looked distinctly Victorian, corseted and with a full skirt that dropped to her ankles. Her golden hair was pinned up in ringlets and partially hidden by a large, feathered hat. Wherever she'd been, someone had been playing dress-up and gotten really carried away, it seemed. A bit of reflected light on the satellite picture caught her eye, and Gina magnified again. On the robot's finger was a gold wedding band. "What the hell were you doing while you were gone?" Gina demanded aloud, then dropped her body to go and retrieve the damned thing before it did anything worse.

“Oh no…not again!†mumbled Rene to himself. Around him, a horde of armed Frenchman were assailing a grand Chateux. Musketfire, shouting, and the smell of burning buildings (lit by the horde’s flaming torches) assailed his senses. The day had started off so pleasantly. Rene had been taking a stroll in the park, the weather was good, the birds had been singing, and even the city air had seemed cleaner and fresher than was its normal, acceptable but flawed, nature. And then, wham! He didn’t even know what had hit him. Nothing that his extraordinary visions detected anyway. The next thing he knew, he was stumbling across a pebbled pavement to the tune of an enraged rabble. It was all so familiar. The French Revolution. He had fought in it himself, as a young man. And now he had been catapaulted through time to relive the horror. With a cold feeling, Rene looked down at his clothes. 21st century, flecked with some antiquarian taste, and all good quality. He looked up, into the eyes of an angry mob, armed with pitchforks, flintlocks, and torches. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t technically dressed as an aristocrat. But his clothes were odd and well made. That was probably good enough for a rabble with blood on their minds – and on their hands too, he suspected. “Good friends†he started. “I can explain everything!†he started. Could he? Could he?. No. But he could try. “Long live the revolution!†he continued, waving his fist in the air. “Long live France!†Forcing his beating heart to slow down, he started his gambit. Perhaps too fast, and perhaps too gabbled. “I have come here today, dear friends, to fight the glorious fight. All day yesterday, I have spied on the vile aristocrats, hiding in their midst! And now I come to you, the brave people of France, to lead you to the final victory against the…errr…†He stumbled. The crowd glared back at him. “…the Baron…the Baron Le *cough cough splutter* he finished, forcing a series of coughs and gasped breathing. He raised one eye. The crowd glared back at him. “Non?†he asked rhetrorically. His answer was a surge of people, waving makeshift weapons and screaming for revenge and blood. “Non†he conceded to himself, bringing out his magic paintbrush. He had better not screw this one up. The adrenaline both helped and hindered. With a magnificent sweep of his arm, ending with a flourish of his fingers, the brush erupted with invisible magic and a wave of complete darkness washed over both the Crowd and the Magician, enveloping them. Darkness was no problem for Rene. His eyes weren’t much good these days anyway, and he relied more and more on his mystic senses. Scuttling away, he sidestepped the mob and darted into a ramshackle burnt out building. At some point it had been a stable, and some agitated horses still loitered in confusion inside it. "Horses heh?" Said Rene, stroking his beard. “Its been quite a while…†he muttered to himself as he approached what looked like the most virile specimen. “But I think I can remember…†He groaned as he mounted the steed. It would play havoc with his back and rear (he remembered) but it felt rather exciting to ride again. As the darkness ebbed away, Rene pointed his horse to the hills, and recalled the old lessons he had had, and the times he had ridden. It was a bit foggy, but he thought he could say the art of Equestrianism had returned. With a gallop and a shout of exhilaration, Rene sped off to the hills, as far away, and as fast away, as possible from the mindless Rabble who had threatened him. “Magnificent†he yelled to himself, oblivious to his aching muscles. Despite the danger, he was enjoying himself. As he rode, he spied another shimmering in the distance. A rip in the landscape that could not be natural. Shaking his head, the memory came back. That rip had thrown him back to this time – and now, he swore, it would return him. “Stay there!†he yelled at the time tunnel. “I have a bone to pick with you!†he swore, as the horse charged at full pace towards the anomaly. It surely did not hear or understand Rene – and surely was no more sentient than the rocks it floated over, but it seemed to obey the venerable mystics command, for it remained quite still as Rene rode straight into it... ...and into modern day Freedom City. The birds still sang, the sun still shone, and the air was still clean. But, to make a picture even more dramatic, Rene was now trotting across the Park on top of a magnificent stallion. “Good day†said Rene to an amazed couple he passed, doffing his beret at them. Good day indeed.

There was an Omegadrone below. He was screaming. Flying overhead as the crowd on the street shouted in terror and fled the grim reminder of the horror of Freedom's past, Caradoc came to a fast decision: he came in low and plowed into the lost drone, plowing both men into the side of a nearby Taco King, the fast food joint already smashed in by looters from the great collapse of the 22nd century. Inside, both of them out of the sight of the crowd, he turned and fired a blast that collapsed the storefront behind them before dropping his disguise. Inside, he tackled the screaming drone. Unbidden, combat lessons came back to him: _Strike beneath the neck. The weak point of the armor is where the head meets the shoulders._ But he wasn't striking to kill today; Harrier had vowed that he would kill no more. Omegadrones were not part of that vow. But Omegadrones didn't scream. Not in words. The man beneath the helmet was pale-faced and shake, tears falling from eyes-too-wide _ocular implants forced beneath the skin_... as he looked up at what he thought was his tormentor. "Do it!" He screamed. "Do it, you metal-faced bastard! I'm not afraid of you anymore, do you hear?" Harrier's metallic face pulled away, revealing the man beneath, and he spoke with urgency as he grabbed the man's arms. "Listen to me! Listen to me!" He hesitated, almost called the man 'subunit', and added, "You're safe! If you can think, if you can talk, the link has been broken! You are safe here! Tell me your name!" he shouted, his metallic voice raised against the emergency as it almost never was. This was no place for his usual humility. "It...it...you're right!" the man cried. And he was human, from his facial features perhaps Euro-Caucasian; his skin the color of one of the front-line drones, not the heavy combat units that Harrier once had been. "It's gone, that terrible voice is..." He took a deep breath, then another, and said, "I...my name is Kurt Waid. I live in Freedom City. I live in Hanover. Yes...I...god..." He shook, all over, his armor clanking. "Get me out of this! Please, get me out of this!" Harrier knew that the sub-units could not live long without their armor, but with his power pike he did what he could, cutting open steel and slicing free the man within. _There are treatments now,_ he thought a little desperately. _Another can be built for him..._ "Listen to me, Kurt," said Harrier firmly. "My name is Stephen," he confessed. "I once was like you, a man, taken by the Terminus. But as I am freed, so you are freed. You have been the victim of a temporal anomaly." He'd seen them appearing in the sky over Champions, and gone out to do all he could to make things right. "The armies of Omega have been repulsed from this city. What date is it?" "The date?" Kurt was taking shallow breaths: eventually the residual energy in his diaphragm would fade, and within days he would suffocate without connection again to the power battery in his armor. "It...it's..." He gave a date Harrier knew down to his very bones: the date of the first day of the Terminus Invasion. "I was out shopping with my wife and my kids when those...those damned Omegadrones were suddenly everywhere! I told my family to run and I went the other way to try and ward them off and...and they caught me and they did..." He looked down at himself and shuddered all over, but Harrier's horror was growing. "Tell me about your family," he said suddenly, "tell me what they are like." And he listened, he listened intently as he desperately began to summon his friends by radio, finding them busy, gone, or finally only able to tell him what he already knew of temporal matters. The past could not be changed. Nor could one be plucked from the past, like a soul half-in and half-out of the coil, without terrible consequences. When the current anomalies were restored, all would be as it once had been. _All of it_. And a freed Omegadrone with memories of the future would be dropped into Omega's lap on the first day of the Terminus Invasion. For the future to be saved, the iron logic of time said this man had to die. But... "My wife's name is Jillissa," said Kurt, obviously using her as a beacon to compose himself. "We have a daughter named Hannah, she's twelve, and our son Edward is ten. Jillissa is a nurse at McNider General and Hannah and Edward are kids, they're at...God, what's this going to mean? How long have I been gone?" When Harrier told them, he screamed again, but more in surprise than horror. It had been a very long time since 1993. Before he could speak again, Harrier interrupted him. "Listen to me, Kurt," he said with great firmness. "The process of transformation is irreversible. Though you can be freed from your armor, your body is dependent on it. Your organs have been replaced, and they cannot be replaced in time. You have only a few hours, perhaps days to live. I know this is very hard to hear, but you must understand it, and believe it, or all...all will be lost. Do you understand?" Kurt looked him in the eye, his face stricken for a moment, before finally, reluctantly...he nodded. "I made peace with death when I felt those machines pull me open like a ragdoll. I know I won't get out of this one alive. Will you take me to my family?" It was the question Harrier had been waiting for; it was one he could answer. "Yes." - As hero fought time-lost villain and as time itself warped and changed around Freedom City, Caradoc flew invisibly through the sky, carrying with him his ill, pale companion on a mission to find the family he'd lost twenty years earlier. Harrier knew with the iron logic of an Omegadrone that it was foolish to look: that it was entirely likely the man's family had died with him, or just a little later...but sometimes that iron logic wasn't always true. With a little help from Miss Americana by text message, they found Jillissa Waid, still in Hanover, and by the time they landed she and her adult children were waiting on the lawn for the father they hadn't seen in so very long. Secure in his Caradoc identity, Harrier stood back and watched the reunion as children saw the father they'd lost, as a woman saw the love she'd left behind. Jillissa had eventually remarried, as one might expect, though her second husband was out of the country; their children were married as well, and at a signal from his father Kurt B. Waid came running out of the house to greet his time-lost grandfather. There were tears, and emotion, and meanwhile Harrier was again confirming that nothing could be done. But there was a little time left. They went everywhere, the chaos of the day meaning that no one looked too closely: at the Super Museum to watch the death of the Centurion, at Champions where Kurt could eat a last burger and fries (and later, Caradoc held him as he vomited; as he'd warned him, his stomach was gone...), and Harrier told his own story as well, the grim legacy of the Terminus that perhaps only another Omegadrone could fully understand. It was a long and glorious day until finally, as sun set, Harrier's radio clicked to life. "The anomalies are going away." "...that...that means me, doesn't it?" Kurt was looking at the setting sun on the horizon, leaning against a lampost as his muscles began to fade. "Anomalies going home...and I don't belong here..." "Yes." In his hand, Harrier's pike whined to life. "You know the fate that awaits you. And what that fate would mean for all of us. When you return, Omega will gain knowledge of the future. I cannot allow that to happen." "Or...or maybe they'll just...they'll just kill me." Kurt gave Harrier a haggard smile. "You said that's what...happened to you, right? An...Omegadrone who leaves the hearing of...the voice of Omega is blasted to pieces by the others as a...oh God, that hurts...fail-safe system. Omega won't...know I was there." He slumped to the ground, still sitting, and looked up at Harrier. "Yes. That is what happened to me. But I cannot guarantee the same will happen to you." Disappearing from view, he aimed his pike at Kurt's face. "The iron logic..." "Wouldn't you have...have killed me when we met, if you really believed in that?" He looked at him above the pike. "You let me live before, you...you said, because you wanted proof that the power of...of the Terminus was a lie. If you kill me now, doesn't that mean you believe it's true?" Harrier looked at him, his face invisible behind his armored plate, and tightened his grip on the pike... --- Some days later It had taken Stephen Murdock, with his limited research skills, quite a while to get into the library at the Super Museum and into the long, long list of those left missing and dead by the Terminus Invasion of 1993. He went through the pages slowly until finally he found what he was looking for. A man, a name, and a cause of death. Kurt Ross Waid: Killed by Omegadrone. 1993. He studied the words, then with a small sigh, he closed the book. Freedom had triumphed.

The Promenade was a bright spot of color amidst the high rises and R&D plants of Hanover. Jessica Parker strolled slowly along a gravel path that paralleled the Wading River. A water bottle swung from one hand and a double cheeseburger was a comfortable weight in her stomach. By a fortuitous coincidence of timing (she kept insisting to anyone who asked) the teen's class schedule had a ninety minute gap right around dinnertime. This was the first really nice day the city had had all year, and she meant to enjoy it. Of course, finals were barreling towards her; by all rights she should've been frantically working on her senior project. Fortunately, HIT's network extended a good half-mile past the campus ground. Jessica had left herself logged in on a workstation, and the bulk of her attention was focused there. She left just enough of herself free to enjoy being able to do so. There was a sudden flickering of motion in the corner of her eye. Before she could turn to look at it more fully, it rushed at her. She opened her mouth-- the shock of disconnection was like a bucket of cold water to the face. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t in Freedom City anymore. She was in some place hot and humid, moisture dripping off something nearby. She couldn’t tell exactly what since the area was entirely pitch-black. The young inventor had a quick solution to that problem, though. She touched the slim bracelet she wore and her armor unfolded from extradimensional space, then folded around her. The suit’s enhanced senses easily cut through the darkness, revealing thick jungle undergrowth all around. She couldn’t pinpoint her position because her GPS refused to link up, but at least she knew she was somewhere equatorial. There was a ground-shaking thud somewhere off to her right. Ironclad rose into the air, above the treetops. There was an air field in that direction, and she could zoom in and see men in uniforms toting Kalashnikov rifles – a military airbase, then. There was a single huge figure on one of the runways, shooting flames from one arm. Ironclad’s immediate reaction was to swoop in and save everyone, but she checked that impulse – she didn’t know the situation, didn’t know who was who. Then the huge figure raised its other arm and belched out a ribbon of cannon fire that cut three men in half. No matter what, a hero had to stop stuff like that. Ironclad charged in and collided with the big figure with a metallic clang. It’s a suit, she realized, another suit. They wrestled for a several minutes, neither able to gain the upper hand. Finally the larger suit threw Ironclad into the treeline. As she was picking herself up she heard it make a radio transmission. It was encrypted, but the code was so out-of-date that the heroine broke it nearly in realtime. “Ironclad reporting in,†it transmitted. “Target responding with unusual force. Retreating to base.†Rockets fired from its feet and back and the colossus rose into the air, slowly at first but it accelerated quickly. Not so fast that the heroine couldn’t have caught up, but the intercepted message had floored her. The only other person to ever use the code-name Ironclad was her grandfather, back when he worked for the government. If she had been moved back in time that would explain why the encryption was out of date (and why she couldn’t link up to the GPS satellites) but her grandfather had been a hero. So why was he killing those soldiers? Said soldiers were jogging across the tarmac towards her, rifles raised at their shoulders. Before Ironclad could respond, she picked up a blue hole in the air opening up behind her. It rushed forward and the jungle popped liked a soap bubble, leaving the heroine back in the park. She remotely checked several different clocks, comparing them to her suit’s. Her little jaunt had, as far as she could tell, taken no time at all. She could’ve gone straight back to working on her poject, but the young woman had a sudden urge to look into her grandfather’s service record.

The Importance of Understanding Your Feelings Time: February 27, 2011 Place: Hughes Home Corbin had spent the last week being rather distant to...well, pretty much everyone. His parents, Quo-Dis, Blake, his other school friends, all of them had noticed he'd been quieter, more focused. Just not on school. He seemed to be living in another world. That wasn't to say he was cold or unkind; simply that he spent more time than usual on his own. Thinking, drawing, painting, or listening to music; one way or another, he was secluding himself. Today, he was in one of the top floor rooms of his family's home, listening to music on his iPod while painting slowly and carefully. 'Am I ready for this step? Do I really feel this way? Is it fluctuating hormones, or something more?' He frowned slightly as he tried to clear his head a bit. He was trying a sort of “stream of consciousness†painting; the goal was to almost let the brush guide itself, rather than have a starting goal. But this painting seemed pretty standard for him; rolling hillsides, some trees, a blue sky. But he still had almost half a canvas to work with still. Time would tell. 'She haunts my dreams. She consumes my thoughts. And maybe half of them are the kind that leave me needing a cold shower. In the other half-' He shakes his head, reaching down to crank up the music. He squinted at his work a bit. A beautiful sunrise had taken shape. And this hill on the left side seemed like it would be important. But why? 'I mean, just saying that word out loud is a huge step. Especially after I made a big deal out of it back in November! I mean, how do I know it's real, and not a moment's fancy?' He makes the final brush stroke, placing his tools to one side and sitting back to admire the painting. Which is of Quo-Dis, in a simple blue sun dress, standing on a hill, hair blowing in the breeze as she stares out of the painting, a smile on her face. The rising sun cast her in a slight golden light, and the rich green of the grass worked to help her stand out even more. She was in a post typical of herself, simultaneously confident and reserved. “That's it. I need to talk to dad.†With that, he took a moment to carefully file all of his supplies away, leaving the painting to dry; then, he walked out of the room, heading downstairs to find his father for a heart-to-heart talk. “What do you need, Corbin?†“Can we talk? Um, alone? Guy talk type stuff.†Corbin glanced at his mother, sitting next to his father at the casual dinner table. She smiled at the two of them, and made a shooing motion. “Go use the library. Both of you like thinking deep thoughts surrounded by books.†The two Hughes men gave sheepish grins, followed by near simultaneous shrugs. Albert stood, setting his paper down next to his empty plate from a light lunch. “Come on, son. We've got plenty of time.†It wasn't long before they were behind closed doors, with Albert taking a seat to one side, while Corbin paced lightly around the room. “When did you know for sure?†“Know what for sure?†Albert had an idea, but it was better to let Corbin talk it out. It would help the boy think things over again. “Know that mom was special. That she was “itâ€. That you wanted to do more than take her out to the movies and a few dinners. That you wanted something deeper with her.†“That I wanted something more physical?†Corbin blushed almost entirely red. “That's not-†“Not what your talking about, I know. It is sort of my business, though I think we've taught you all we can. It shouldn't be cheap, and it should be safe.†“No, I got that. I mean, that was embarrassing as hell, but I got the point.†“Good. As for what you probably meant...It's hard to say. It's not any one moment. We were a bit older, you understand. Though not by much; maybe a year and a half. Point is, I didn't wake up and say 'I love Sarah' one day. It was more that I realized I had for a while. It wasn't just about the physical things. I wanted to be there for her. I didn't just want to do things with her, I wanted to do things for her. I wanted to make her feel special. I wanted to care more about her than about me. I couldn't imagine not having her in my life. Not seeing her in my future. That's when I knew. That's when I was ready for the next step, in every sense of the word. Think about it a bit, son. If you're feeling that way, I wager you'll realize you have been for a bit.†With that, Albert rose, giving his son a quick hug before walking out of the library. Corbin stood there, mulling over his father's words. Slowly, a small smile came to his face. “He's right.†He pulled out his cell phone, quickly dialing Quo-Dis's number. “Hello gorgeous. Listen, will you be free in a week? I have a plan for a nice picnic meal on-campus, and I was rather hoping you'd join me...â€

Time: January 10, 2010 Place: Archetech The room was dark and quiet, mechanical humming and the whoosh of air recirculating the only noises that could be heard. Stesha lay on an uncomfortable bed, half-propped up by the lifting back and a couple of pillows. She looked at the blank screen in front of her, then over to Derrick where he sat on a stool next to the bed, and squeezed his hand. "I feel like we're waiting for a movie to start," she joked softly. He just smiled and brushed his lips across her forehead, even as the door to the hallway opened to let in light and the businesslike clicking of high heels. "Sorry to be a little late," Miss Americana told the couple, a white lab coat thrown on over her uniform. "You know how it goes, but I'm glad we didn't have to reschedule. I've been looking forward to this. Are you both ready?" "Absolutely," Stesha said with a grin. "I want to see who's kicking me all night... besides you, honey," she teased Derrick. He blushed. "You're certain there's no risk, right?" he asked Miss Americana. "Positive," Miss A assured him, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed and lifting up Stesha's maternity smock. "3-D ultrasound is just as safe as regular. We're just going to have a look." Stesha giggled as the gorgeous doctor poured gel lubricant onto her bare tummy. "It's cold!" she announced, shivering more with excited nerves than with the actual temperature. All eyes were riveted to the screen the moment Miss A picked up the wand and began applying it to the taut skin of Stesha's abdomen. "Oh..." Stesha murmured softly as the picture came into focus, her fingers clasping Derrick's. "Look, it's our baby..." At this stage, the newest member of the Lumins family looked a lot like something Dark Star might have encountered out in deep space, with a head half the size of its entire body and eyes that dominated the top entire half of the head. The surprisingly detailed picture showed the baby's tiny hands up in front of its face, its eyes closed. As they watched, one infinitesimal thumb went into the mouth. Stesha cooed, and Derrick wiped his eyes with a tissue. Miss Americana flipped a switch, and the quiet room was suddenly filled with a quick galloping noise. "Heart sounds good," Miss A told them. "You can keep watching while I move the wand around for some measurements. I've got a pretty good guess as to the sex, unless you want it to be a surprise." Stesha looked over at Derrick, her own eyes wet as she smiled at him. "We want to know," she said definitely. "I've been bursting to know for weeks! How can I get started on the serious shopping otherwise?" "Fair enough," Miss A acknowledged. She captured a picture of the screen, moved the wand a little, repeated the process. "The little one's not shy, that's for sure. Unless I'm very much mistaken, and I rarely am, you all are having a little girl." She smiled a little at Stesha's cry of delight and kept taking measurements while the couple took in the news. "A little girl," Stesha sighed dreamily, looking at the screen. "Somehow I was sure she was going to be a girl. Look at her, isn't she beautiful?" "Just like her mother," Derrick agreed, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in and kissed her again, for once not seeming to care that anyone saw. "She's perfect." "She's mad," Stesha told him with a breathless laugh. "She's kicking the probe. I don't think she likes us messing with her." She rubbed her stomach above the gelled area, lightly and reassuringly. "It's all right, baby," she told their agitated daughter. "We can see how pretty you are now, we'll let you go back to sleep soon. We love you so much! I can't wait till we get to see you face to face." Stesha lay back and looked at Derrick, swamped with euphoria and love. "I guess it's time to start thinking about names now, too!"

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.

30th December 2010 “Just say no†Slick looked the picture of health. Whilst Slick actually was superhumanly robust (at least normally), it was the look that was important today. He was filming a public service announcement warning the kids of drugs. A knock came on his dressing room door. “5 minutes to filming, errr… Mr…err… Slick†came the muffled voice of the crewman. For now, he was quite alone, having politely shown out the quite needless hair and makeup artists. He practiced for a moment in front of the mirror. With some effort, he could limit the oil when changing, at least on his face, and that was what they wanted. What little was left could be air-brushed out with fancy computer technology, so he was told. Nothing wrong with trying to do your best “naturally†was his view. Dressed in unnaturally smart “street†wear (the sociologists and educational experts had deemed this the best way to connect with the “youthâ€) Slick strode confidently towards the camera crew. This was the first time he had done public speaking on this scale, if one could indeed call it public speaking. He wasn’t short on confidence, and he had plenty of experience of life under his belt, so he greeted this new experience with more excitement than anxiety. He wasn’t particularly enamoured with the street wear. In his experience, the more one tried to connect with teenagers as teenagers, the more one made a fool of oneself. However, he hadn’t made much of an argument. After all, what was he going to wear? a suit? The best bet might have been to wear nothing at all. Sex sells, so he had heard from the numerous advertising agents he had to deal with over the years. They were probably right, too. He looked into the blazing studio lights as the countdown began, giving a smile and a thumbs up to the crew that he could hardly see. “Kids… Just say no!†came the booming intro. Cue Slick! Roll Autocue! “Hi kids, my name is Slick. You may know me from my crime-fighting escapades across Freedom City. I am here to tell you, honestly and frankly, about drugsâ€. “You may know people, or even have friends, that think drugs are cool and can make you cool too. Maybe somebody you know even takes drugs, and tells you how good it makes them feel, or how confident or how full of energy. “ “But I am here to tell you that to be healthy, happy, and cool, you don’t need drugs. I never took drugs and that’s why I am still in fighting form today. But what would happen if I did?†Slicks face started to turn more wan, hollow, and drawn as he spoke. His eyes became bloodshot and bags appeared under his eyes. His hair become thin and broken, and his face broke out in broken blood vessels and spots. “I wouldn’t be healthy or happy at all. I would start to get irritable, angry, and unwell. Definitely NOT cool. All I could think about would be the drugs, taking more and more. I would forget about my friends, my family, my life, everything but drugs. “ By the end of the talk his face looked more like a grinning skull with skin stretched over it than an actual human face. “I would probably turn to crime, and if lucky get arrested and put in prison. If I was unlucky, I wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale!†He paused, letting the impact of his horrible face seep in. “So kids, if somebody comes up to you, telling you that drugs are cool, and you think you want to try. Remember what even one taste can do to you. Remember… Drugs aren’t cool!†He gave a horrible skull-like grin to the zooming camera to emphasise the point. It seemed to be effective, some of the crew looked rather perturbed by his face. “Cut. Nice work Mr… Slick†said the director. “May have to edit the last shot to get it through the censors, but I should say that will go down nicely, get the message across that kind of thing. Gotta keep our kids off the drugs, keep our streets clean. No place for drugs in this society. “ He paused to light a cigarette. “That’s a wrap folk, back to the bar for a celebratory brew!†he proclaimed as the crew started to pack up.

It was a very busy day in Gina's lab! Sure, it was almost Christmas, but crime didn't take holidays, so neither did the people who supported the crimefighters! And what was Jack of all Blades going to do if she didn't finish his electrogauntlets before Zappo, the Energy Beast from the Fifth Dimension, found his way back from the space maze he'd been thrown into? Not to mention Victory's upgraded foot servos, the ones that would let him leap tall buildings in a single bound without needing to expend energy by flying! What if Santa Claus was endangered this year and someone needed to leap to the rooftops to save him? Right now though, she was stuck on the phone with her superior at ArcheTech Labs, delaying all her work for yet another conversation on monster-proofing the labs after the last ransacking by Froggenstein. "Yes sir," she murmured into the phone, "but if it could just... yes..." Her voice got even quieter as she held onto the phone with both hands. "Yes sir, of course. It'll be done by New Year's. Yes... yes... yes, of course. I understand. Merry Christmas." She hung up the phone with a sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. That was the worst thing about being an engineer for heroes. Having to work with strong-willed people and never being able to stand up to them, even when they were wrong. If only she had more courage! That was a foolish hope, though. Gina wasn't a brave person, and she certainly wasn't a bold person. She couldn't even bring herself to speak to the handsomest hero, the one with the most beautiful blue eyes, the most stunning smile... Whenever he was around, her mind went blank and she could barely work, let alone socialize. It wasn't as though he'd ever noticed, anyway, she reminded herself. She was the perfect support technician, competent and as good as invisible. Heroes looked at heroines, not at plain, shy women in lab coats. And it wasn't as though she begrudged Freedom City's heroes and heroines their glory; they worked hard for it! They kept the city safe by putting themselves in harm's way, day in and day out, and they deserved the applause they got. Sometimes she just wished there might be a smidgen of a curtain call left over for others at the end of the day. Speaking of the end of the day, it had come and was long gone into the evening by the time Gina finished her work for the day. She didn't mind, work was her life after all, and there was no one waiting in her boxy little apartment for her to come home. Besides, when everyone else had gone home, she could concentrate on her own project... Slipping out of the lab, she walked down the hall to an unused storage room, one she'd secured with an unbreakable combotron lock. Opening it up, she slipped inside and turned on the lights. There, gleaming softly under the fluorescent bulbs, was the realization of all her dreams, a red, white and blue chassis with the face of a beautiful woman and the power of a superhero. Her chance to be a hero, her chance to be noticed! Working quickly, Gina tugged off her lab coat and rubber soled shoes, and climbed into the robotic suit. It was a snug fit, but in moments, she was totally covered by the suit, her own movements directing it in how to move and where to go. "Hello, world," she said experimentally, the words coming out a dulcet purr from the robotic throat. She smiled, and in the mirror on the far wall, she saw the robot suit emulating the motion. It was working! Gina Evans, mild-mannered engineer, was gone, at least for the night, and in her place was the beautiful superheroine, Miss Americana!

Early December Gaian Knight sat in a chair in a black room, the only thing visible in what could have been a yawning cavern for all the viewer could tell. Though his face was hidden under hood, goggles, and cloth his posture was all business as he leaned forward and pulled something out of his coat pocket. “This,†he said, holding up something small and unidentifiable and speaking in an absurd voice, “is cra--“ The film crew cracked up and, when they could get the breath to do so, called cut. The hero leaned back, chuckling and holding up what was now clearly a small, average white rock. “Sorry, sorry,†he apologized, holding up one hand while the other put the stone back in his coat pocket. “We’ve been at it a while...I couldn’t resist!†Aside from some good-natured scowling no one really seemed that put out. The earthmover put his game face back on as the lights went down again (I really hope this is the last take.) and the crew gave him the signal to go. Gaian Knight sat in a chair in a black room, the only thing visible in what could have been a yawning cavern for all the viewer could tell. Though his face was hidden under hood, goggles, and cloth his posture was all business as he leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Everyone,†he said, “has heroes. Most people wish they were heroes; they wish they had that kind of power, to fly, to fight crime, to....†He pulled a little crystal out of his coat, floating it above his hand. “....to make the earth move.†He frowned at the crystal for a moment before letting it drop, catching it in a closed hand as he stood up. “But this isn’t really power, is it?†Shaking his head, he slowly walked to the side, camera turning to follow him. “Anyone can get exposed to a meteor, or find some ancient artifact, or be a little too close to a science lab explosion. But you know what real power is?†He tapped the side of his head. “It’s up here.†The camera stopped following him now, and as he left the screen the background changed to an airport.... “Do you know who can fly? Pilots can.†....to some officers leading handcuffed villains away.... “Do you know who can stop crime? The police.†....to a construction site. “Do you know who can move the earth? A civil engineer.†As the image faded back to black the camera caught up with him again, as he’d apparently walked in a large circle and made it back to his chair. “As cheesy as it sounds, real power - honest to goodness true power - isn’t in a glowing rock or an Atlantean staff or a chemical explosion. Real power is in you, in your mind, and in the limitless potential that mind can give you. And the only way to exercise that power, the only way to make sure that you are the best, the most powerful you can be, is to stay in school. So go to class, pay attention...and be the most powerful thing of them all: your own hero.â€