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Mid-August, 2023 After sunset / before midnight Liberty Park “…And in an update on other unfortunate news. The body of local small business owner Donald Greuber was found. The body was found in the waters of Liberty Park, just a hundred feet from the spot local news correspondent Vincent Lancaster and his cameraman Andrew Peterson disappeared from three days ago. The latest victims to fall prey to what people are calling the Liberty Park Demon.” A young anchorman reads from an offscreen teleprompter. “Freedom City Police have repeatedly insisted though that after serious investigation, there is no actual proof of supernatural involvement.” Anywhere else in the country and that may have been meant as a joke to lighten the mood. But in Freedom… “City Hall has been under pressure after it had been revealed police had been downplaying attacks around Liberty Park that have been increasing over the last year. No connections have been made between the known victims and police still have no suspects.” The young man folds his hand solemnly. “We will continue to cover this story as more information becomes available.” the camera switches to a cheerful looking young anchorwoman. “And when we return…” **** *ring ri-* “911, what is your emergency?” “Ya, ah, I want to report a, ah, a body.” “A body?” “Yes.” “Can you tell if they’re alive?” “Nah, they not moving, and I ain’t getting any closer.” “That’s okay sir. Can I get your name?” “I, ah, rather not.” “That’s okay sir. Where did you find the body?” “Near the Foster St entrance of Liberty. It’s, ah, it’s hangin over the wall.“ “Hanging over th-“ “Look, I can’t talk anymore. I ain’t getting involved.” “Sir-“ *click* **** Street lamps illuminate the police tape that cordoned off nearly a hundred yards in every direction into the park from the Foster street entrance of Liberty park. Agitated police personnel swarm the area looking for clues while keeping late night rubberneckers at a distance. Several reports argue with the police refusing to let them past the barriers until they’ve finished. Despite the efforts of police, civilians are still active in the park. It’s been a sad, but constant struggle for authorities. Some are heedless of the danger, some possibly hoping for it. Some hoping to take advantage of it and some just because they tragically have no where else to go. There have been rumors of federal involvement at the behest of local government. And pictures on social media have show individuals in suits speaking with local police, though no official statement on it has been given. All said and done… there seems little optimism that an end is in sight.

OOC for Here

Mühlenplatz, Lucerne, Switzerland Saturday, April 21st , 2018 2:23 PM It was a beautiful day on Lucerne’s Mühlenplatz. People from both near and far enjoyed the sudden sunlight after a long winter by sitting in the restaurants outside and browsing through the various stores. There were travel groups, locals, and Swiss from other parts of the country. And there was Auguste Zoss. He’d not been in Lucerne for a while, there honestly weren’t that many reasons to visit the city. But today he was, thanks to an invitation by an old friend earlier in the day. He didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day, so it felt only fair to spend some time in the sun, amongst all the others. People were walking down the streets en masse, and Auguste was enjoying his coffee, occasionally peeking over at a man on a nearby table who was holding the most recent newspaper. But then, the occasional superhero noticed something. A glint, up on one of the roofs. A closer look revealed something quite disturbing. A man, set up with what quite clearly was a sniper rifle.

Here you go, @SpicyWaffle and @Supercape. Cape, give me a Knowledge (Art) check for some of the stuff you find down there!

Fall 2018 The invasion was over, Freedom City was rebuilding and moving on with its life - even if most people had thought that life was going to come to an end. High Steaks had taken some minor structural damage during the fracas, not enough to shut the place down, but enough that keeping a regular movement of engineers, construction workers, and their equipment away from the tourists was just one of the many bits of sleight of hand that made life at the High Steaks interesting. At least until today. "Peter broke through with his pickax," commented Miranda, the tall, rangy Italian-American woman wearing the same orange hardhat and safety gear as the rest of her men. "If he hadn't had his line on him, he'd have fallen in-" She and Diamondlight were standing together at the edge of the substantial sinkhole that had once been the bottom of his lowest underground parking garage, her headlamp only partially illuminating the substantial cavern that the collapse had uncovered. Down below, they could make out other stonework that looked manmade - and definitely something more glittering than stone. Going down there would be quite a gamble. "You want me to call the Freedom League, boss?" - It took Baxter some time to realize that the music was coming from the armor, still tucked away where he'd put it. He recognized the sound; the old Nokia that his uncle had wired into the suit a lifetime ago still worked and the suit probably still had enough power to make it work. But why would anyone be calling it? It had _not_ been part of the numbers he'd given out - but then, he hadn't always been the one in the suit...

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