vignette September Vignette (The Gorgon Comes)

[Avenger Assembled]

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.

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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.

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Bluesman

Cannonade

Nick Cimitiere

Citizen

Cobalt Templar

Edge

Flora

Gabriel

Harrier

Ironclad

King of Suits

Lord Steam

Rene de Saens

Spitfire

Supercape

Wander

Wisp

[Raveled]

September 3rd, 2011

Lonely Point Naval Base

The Lab was an amazing place, a miracle box for any scientist or engineer. It had rooms for experiments, design, and manufacture. It even had offices, dorms, and a cafeteria. It was a fantastic place to work, especially for Jessica Parker. However all those wonderful toys had to fit in a single building in one of Freedom City’s most expensive districts. That meant it lacked any sort of wide-open demonstration area, which was why the young genius was standing in a hanger at the Lonely Point Naval base. All the essential equipment – that is to say, everything that might be needed on short notice and wasn’t duplicated elsewhere on the base – had been moved out and what remained had been stacked up and shoved against the walls, leaving plenty of open space. In the middle of it was a roped-off area, with a miniature park inside that. There was an inch or so of topsoil, with bushes and small trees, their roots still bundled up, placed haphazardly in the space.

The soil was mounded up in the very middle and there stood Ironclad in full armor. There were people on the outside of the ropes, standing in small knots of three or five. None of them were really movers or shakers in the city; rather, they were the secretaries and advisors to the movers and shakers. This was outside of the young woman’s normal duties, but this whole scheme was her idea and she didn’t feel that it was right to dump it in someone else’s lap at the last moment. Accordingly she took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and retracted her helmet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,†she said, loud enough to cut through the conversations. Once she had everyone’s attention, she continued in a quieter voice. “You have all been briefed on the approaching cosmic threat, so I won’t bother telling you things you already know. Unfortunately, while a great deal of resources are being poured into evacuation. I’d like to take some of the pressure off those preparing the way. To that end, I’d like to present the Lab’s direct contribution to these efforts; a self-assembling shelter.†She walked over to the edge of the artificial garden and picked up a matte black cylinder roughly the dimensions of a stuffed duffel bag. The armored heroine hefted it in one hand, carrying the strange device to the middle of the greenery. She set it down, taking a moment to make sure it was standing straight, then pulled a touch-screen pad from a bit of webbing on the side of the cylinder. She could’ve linked with the controlling computer directly, of course, but she wanted to show how easy it would be to use in the field.

“This device,†she said, working on the touch pad as she talked, “contains six nanobot stacks, each holding about five kilograms of microscopic assemblers and dissemblers.†She entered the final command with a flourish and stepped away, retreating to beyond the ropes. The canister glowed blue for a moment, then a silvery goo began leaking out and spreading over the ‘park.’ “They’re designed to look for the sort of complex carbon chains found in living organisms,†Ironclad said as the puddle grew. “It seeks out available materials and then builds whatever solid-shape construction is programmed into its brain.†As the puddle touched trees and bushes, the greenery descended into it without a ripple. Before long a building began to grow out of the goo, matte white and made out of hexagonal panels. “It’s a plastic composite,†Ironclad continued, pride evident in her voice. “It’ll stand up to hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, just about any… err.â€

Even as the young genius was extolling its virtues, the structure began to melt and deform like hot wax. Ironclad watched as it sank again, her mind already connected to the machine brain controlling the nanites, interrogating it. The simple AI was complaining about heat build-up and structural instability. She was about to cut in and take manual control when the program shifted radically. The silver puddle contracted, flowing up the canister in the center. The whole mass of nanites began to lift itself, extending metallic tentacles into the air. The audience was at least experienced enough with the weird side of life not to panic openly; they merely moved away from the roped-off area, now denuded of greenery, and headed for the exits. Ironclad, though, powered up her thrusters and shot towards the ceiling, hovering among the rafters, evaluating the situation.

The heroine loosed a couple of blasts at the thing, more to gauge the reaction than anything else. The high energy particles blasted a pair of holes in the thing’s body and for a moment Ironclad thought it was going to be just that easy; but the pieces flowed back together and the whole was left looking the same as before. Obviously, this one was going to take a little more thought.

Ironclad knew the design of the system backwards and forwards. The nanites had no processing power of their own. It was all controlled by the computer in the cylinder. So destroy the cylinder, she told herself.

The heroine dropped like a stone, hitting the mass hard. It held firm against her at first, but after a few moments the silvery goo spread up her boots. She pressed her fists against it and it enveloped those, too. She wasn’t worried about the nanites getting to her, the suit was sealed against such things, but she needed to get the beam emitters into it.

After a second her gauntlets were engulfed in the stuff and she triggered them. The goo was blown everywhere, clear up the ceiling. The cylinder was suddenly exposed and Ironclad smashed it with one metal fist, plastic and silicon exploding in every direction.

Almost instantly, the goo subsided and spread out into a large pool, held in place only by surface tension. After a few minutes of silence a man in a military dress uniform poked his head into the room. “What in God’s name just happened,†he demanded.

Ironclad flicked a blob of nanites off one gauntlet. “I miscalculated,†she said. “There wasn’t enough materials to make the shelter, and the nanites were burning up too much of what was here for furl. So the whole thing went into scavenger mode.â€

“And that makes a goo monster,†the military man said incredulously.

“Apparently!†The potential for a ‘gray goo’ scenario hadn’t damped Ironclad’s enthusiasm for the project. “I’ll redesign the code and we’ll try this again next week, okay?â€

[Ironox]

September 22, 2011

Lincoln, Freedom City

The riots had started pretty soon after the Gorgon had appeared. For some, the feeling was that the world was about to end; people who feel they have nothing to lose are the most dangerous of all. For others, the chaos and confusion was both excuse and cover for acting on hatreds, both old and new. There was a mixture of both in the streets of Lincoln, where the tension of the situation had broken out into a full on race riot, with black and latino gangs and mobs causing damage and looting in the streets. Violence was high as the destruction mounted.

On a street in Lincoln, in a scene that was being played out all over the world, two groups were squaring off in the streets. These weren't the gang members, simply people who had gotten swept up into the fear and anger that the times had been causing. They shouted across at each other, and the situation looked to erupt into violence any moment now. Shouts in English and Spanish filled the air as the people leading the two groups began to inch closer.

Over the sounds of violence, however, something could be heard. It caught the ears of the people nearest to the source of the sound first, causing them to fall silent and turn towards it. It spread like a ripple through the crowd, and they turned to see what the sound, now clear, was coming from. The sound of an acoustic guitar, playing a mournful blues riff, could be heard over the distant sirens and other chaos in the city.

Seated on the hood of a nearby car was a young man, dressed in a slightly crumpled suit and carrying a six string in his hands. A fedora and a small mask obscured most of his features to the crowd as they looked on, either dumbstruck by the figure or seemingly fascinated by the song he was playing. After playing for perhaps a minute more, the figure stood up, straightening his hat and loosening his tie. Another ripple seemed to go through the crowd, as they snapped out of their reverie.

A man shouted to the masked guitarist. “What do you think you're doing?†It was hard to tell if he was angry or incredulous. The figure tipped his hat down further on his head, shrugging his shoulders. “Playing a song, by the looks of it. What are you all doing?†There was a small hint of accusation in the words that went unsaid. Some of the group seemed suddenly apologetic, glancing around at the situation around them. Others, however, seemed undeterred. “Don't you see what's going on here, man. We're all going to die!â€

The masked man sat down his guitar carefully before answering. “I don't know about you all, but if we are going to die, I wouldn't want to go to my maker like this.†He glanced around at the crowd, which began to assemble around him almost unconsciously. He pointed to the people in the front. “What I'm doing is stopping something that you'll regret from happening. No matter what's going on in the world, what's more violence going to do to make it better?â€

A younger voice sounded from the middle of the crowd. “What else are we going to do, man? There's not going to be anything left after this.†Tipping his hat out of his eyes, the masked man responded. “Some of you all got families, I'm guessing. People you care about. Where are they now, while you're out here? I'm going to tell you what you can do. We're going to stop the violence in Lincoln. We're going to take it to the rest of the city and the whole country if we have to. There's evacuation centers set up, where you all can get to somewhere safe.â€

The figure took another glance around the crowd, which seemed to be swaying in their thirst for whatever they were here to find, either vengeance or just chaos. “I'm going to tell you what you can do. You can organize, and make this place better, instead of worse. You can help people get to safety. You can protect instead of destroy. That's what I'm going to do. But I can't do it alone.â€

The crowd stood still for a moment. In the sudden stillness, the sounds of rocks, pipes, and other improvised weapons could be heard hitting the ground. Some of the people dispersed, but many stood there. The masked man nodded, pointing to the men who seemed to be the leaders. “I want you all to start getting people to the evac points. If you run into any violence, I don't want anyone being a hero. I'm going to be helping with the peace keeping. I'll keep in touch with you all. Don't worry, I'll find you.†Reaching into a pocket, he handed out maps showing where the points had been set up. The men nodded, before turning and beginning to give orders.

The masked man smiled, taking up his guitar once more and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He pulled out an old grappling gun, pointing to the roofs. He felt a tugging on his coat-tails, looking down to see a little girl, presumably hiding in the chaos. “Hey mister, I've never seen you before, and I know all of the superheroes in this city! Who are you?â€

The masked man smiled, shaking his head. “Me? I'm just a Bluesman.â€

[Eviscerus]

September 20, 2011

The Fens

Maxie strolled through the alleyways of Freedom City's poorest district, known locally and abroad as The Fens. Maxie had heard that if one was looking for criminals, that area would definitely provide them. Looking from one boarded up and abandoned business to a dilapidated apartment building, Maxie's heart sunk in empathy. It pained him to see people living in such squalor. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his over-long duster, Maxie lowered his head, which sported a black marshal-style cowboy hat and walked down the street, trying to look as innocuous as possible. Having grown up among a roving carnival, Max was no stranger to hard times and poverty, but the look in the people's eyes he passed had been new to him, it was fear, unadulterated and naked. Anger welled within him as a fire, and before he knew it, white smoke and steam were rising from his nostrils. How could this be allowed to happen to people? Where were the advocates for these scared and hungry children? With the abundance of heroes in this town surely at least some devoted their time to cleaning up these streets, but it seemed hardly a dent had been made.

Maxie closed his eyes and calmed himself. Of course, he knew why no progress had been made. It seemed that in this town, same as any other, once you cut one head off the Hydra, at least two grew to replace it. It was an endless and vicious cycle, and the only thing one could hope to do was to stem the tide and keep things from getting worse. Maxie opened his eyes suddenly and clenched his jaw. He would not let this stand. No more of the status quo. If one were to believe that no true progress could be made then you are doomed before you start. Spitfire vowed to himself he would work tirelessly to see The Fens turned into something beautiful, one way or another, and if some criminals and mobsters got burned along the way, then all the better. It was during this reverie that Gorgon came.

Within minutes the street was crowded with people, throwing bricks through windows and screaming in near insane panic. A place such as The Fens would be hit worst, Spitfire knew, as it was always teetering on the edge of madness due to the fear and anger of those who have been the victims of society their whole lives. It wouldn't take much to turn this sprawling display of urban decay into a full blown nightmare of biblical proportions. Unfortunately much did take place with the apparent inevitable decimation of planet imminent. Max watched aghast as once normal people destroyed businesses and shopping centers, running out of stores with televisions and other electronic what-have-yous.

Maxie shook his head, "I don't know what it is about the threat of imminent death that makes people run around stealin' TV's. Don't make no sense when you think about it. What good's a TV gonna do ya when the world's endin'?"

Behind him, Maxie heard a woman scream. He turned in time to see a semicircle of thugs carrying miscellaneous weapons of opportunity closing in on a lady and her baby. Cursing, Maxie sped over to next to the mother and her baby.

"You boys’ oughtta mind yer manners!" Spitfire yelled before sucking in a breath and laying down a semicircle of fire in front of him and the mother, blocking the would be attackers from getting to them. Seeing this young boy suddenly spew fire from his mouth made the thugs reconsider their target, and they soon left off to continue looting with their less than reasoning brethren.

Maxie turned to the young woman, who was rather handsome considering the amount of worry and fear that had been etched into her face over the years. "You a ‘right ma'am? Where you live? I'll see you and yer young’un home alright."

The woman looked at him with wide eyes near panic and swallowed before stammering, "Th-thank you son. We live two blocks north, please; it's not safe here for Jimmy!"

Maxie gave a strained smile in response, "Jimmy is it? Well we can't have ya hangin' around here, and yer home is likely to be no better, we better get ya some where’s safer. My trailer's on the edge o' town, that should be away from most o' the trouble."

Without waiting for a response Maxie grabbed the girl and lifted her into his arms before setting the pavement before him ablaze and skating across is and blinding speeds. The woman cried out in surprise but soon settled down as the scenery changed from the anarchy of The Fens to the Greenbank to the West End where plant monsters were harassing victims. No matter what he saw, Maxie didn't stop, couldn't stop, until this mother and her child were safe. He knew there was nothing rational about it, but what if this mother and child were the only ones to survive the madness? Spitfire wasn't powerful enough to save everyone, but by God he sure as hell could save these two.

With renewed determination Spitfire poured on the speed and headed passed Lantern Hill and the Hanover Bypass till coming to his small, out of the way trailer park just on the outskirts of Freedom City.

He led the woman in mechanically, clearing random detritus off a spot on the couch for her to sit. "I know it ain't pretty but it should do ya well fer the time bein'. There's ice in the freezer, coke in the fridge, and glasses in the sink. Help yerself to anything I got." With that, Spitfire turned to go, determined to help as many as possible.

"Wait," the woman balked as he opened the trailer. "Why save me? We passed so many others, why didn't you stop to save them?"

Maxie looked to his shoes and shrugged, "If'n I tried to save everyone I saw needin' help between findin you and gettin you safe, I wouldn't have been able to save anyone. I don't know that it's gonna matter, it's bad out there. I jus-... I had to save you, someone, in case none of us make it; I wanted to know I got you away from them thugs at least. “ Maxie realized he'd been frowning and on the verge of tears, he shook his head and smiled his cockiest smile at the lady. "Don't you fret none, sweetheart, we ain't done for yet and I aim to right some wrongs afore the day's through. We may not survive, but some plant monsters and some crazy tiny robots aren't gonna be more than slag before we close the curtain on this world that's fer damned sure!"

With a flourish he was out the door laughing maniacally to himself. Well, Spitfire thought, I reckon it's not exactly as lofty as ridding The Fens o' gangbangers, but helpin stop the annihilation of the planet'll have ta do!

[trollthumper]

Harvest

September 22nd, 2011

The great god Osiris – The Lord of Silence, He Who is Permanently Benign and Youthful – looked down the chambers of his great hall to Nick Cimitiere, regarding him with pity. “I hear your plea, necromancer,†he said, “but this is something I cannot do.â€

Nick felt his heart sink in his chest. Getting to Duat hadn’t been too hard – any tomb could serve as a midway point to the realm of Osiris with the right incantation. Crossing the many rivers of the fertile desert had been slightly more difficult, and there had been one terrifying second when he was afraid he was going to end up as a Scooby Snack for Ammut, the demon who devoured the souls of the unworthy. But she had let him pass, and the guards had allowed him safe entry into the manse of the lord of Duat. He had known this would be the hard part – he just didn’t expect to meet such resistance right out of the gate.

“I know the breadth of my request, oh king,†he said – he normally wasn’t the kind of guy for such formalities, but speaking to a Deathlord, especially on a request of this level, required utmost tact. “But this is a time of crisis for humanity. The Gorgon threatens to turn all to stone – man, animal, and plant. The soil to concrete, the trees to statues, the skyscrapers to monoliths. This would be a short stay for the living, a minor durance while the Gorgon is driven from the skies.â€

Osiris reached towards a tree that grew behind his throne, pulling a pomegranate from its branches. Like the god, who stood on the borders of life and death, the manse was both a tomb and an orchard, tall walls of brick and marble carved with heiroglyphs depicting the tales of the living and the dead mixing with trenches of soil that bore fruitful trees and vines. “And assuming the Gorgon succeeds?†the god asked. “What will happen then?â€

“The earth will need to be made fertile again,†Nick said. “You are he who steered the Nile, who brought new life to the desert. Through your will, Duat grows crops for all the dead. Under the Gorgon’s wrath would lie wells and untamped earth, that could be made to swell and work their way through stone. Your works would make the earth fertile again, allowing mankind to leave and ease the workings of your kingdom.â€

“Why have you come here, child?†he said. “To me, of all the Deathlords? Why not the Ghede, whose touch remains upon the earth? Or one of the others?â€

“I came to you first, great Osiris,†Nick said – mainly because it was the best option. Guinee was a fine place, but it was somewhat crowded – and it was still a place of power for Baron Samedi, and Nick didn’t want to risk the maddened loa finding a way to eject the living from the lands of the dead. The other kingdoms were either safety hazards – Mictlan was a trial for the dead, and Irkalla was a place of dust and bones – or bore metamorphic hazards for those who ate its goods – it wasn’t for nothing that one piece of fruit had bound Persephone and Izanami-no-Mikoto to their respective Underworlds. The produce of Duat was the fruit of life and death, however, and cast a reflection in the real world that ensured bountiful harvests. Every bit of Duat, despite its desert appearance, was arable soil, and if the Gorgon couldn’t be driven away, then the evacuated survivors could set up a solid agricultural system to support themselves. “You tamed this dry land of death into a paradise for the righteous dead. Now I ask that you might extend that mercy to the living.â€

“I wish that I could, child,†Osiris said. The look in his eyes told Nick that he was speaking the truth. “But there is only so much a place of the dead can be changed. The fruit here may sustain one like you, touched by death, but it is still just a shadow. It feeds my subjects, but it will bring nothing but the taste of dust for other mortals. I shall gladly provide shelter for the victims if you are unsuccessful… but I cannot provide hospice to the living, anymore than an ocean could shelter a burning ember.â€

Everything after that had been formalities – Osiris had promised to see if he could send his son Horus out to see if he could aid mankind once again, but with no solid connections like the ankh that had brought Horus the Avenger to Earth in the first place, it would be an unlikely endeavor. Nick gave his thanks to the lord of Duat, and made his way back to the world of the living.

He emerged out of an old crypt into Lantern Hill Cemetery, taking a few seconds to adjust to the living stars, rather than the ancient constellations of Duat. He knew that up among them, the Gorgon was waiting, its dread countdown ticking away. There would be little succor from the gods. This was a matter for men to solve.

[Azuth65]

September 23, 2011

Bayview, South Freedom

The sounds of sirens filled the autumn air around Claremont Academy while Wisp teleported from roof to roof along one of the recently built developments in Bayview. She and her classmates had been dispatched by Headmaster Summers during the Gorgon Crisis, their job to lend a hand where they could with emergency response crews or law enforcement officers.

Pausing on the roof of a half-finished house, she sat for a moment and pulled a small hipflask from her belt. Unscrewing the top she took a long sip of the contents, a mixture of Gatorade and protein shake. It may have tasted all kinds of foul but it gave her the calories, carbs, and protein to keep her body humming after an extended period of using her teleports.

She'd already helped a crew of firefighters pull a family out of a burning house and had gotten one elderly couple to a nearby aid station. She sat on the edge of the naked roof and took the time to catch her breath. As she did, the roar of falling space debris, so common in the past few days, came from overhead.

Before she could react, parts of an old satellite came crashing down in front of an ambulance rounding the corner. The driver must have had lightning reflexes to had swerved around it in time. Unfortunately he swerved onto the shoulder and into the ditch.

Moving quickly the snow-haired teen poofed over to the vehicle and looked inside. The driver was conscious, though he bled from his forehead where it had impacted the steering wheel. She opened the door and helped him out of the vehicle. “You okay?†she asked, easing him to his feet.

“Yeah, I think I'll be okay. Check in the back, my partner and I have a man who'd been stabbed during a home robbery.â€

Nodding, Wisp moved to the rear of the vehicle where despite being at an angle, a woman not much older than herself leaned over a man in his mid-forties, keeping pressure on a wound in his stomach. The young heroine opened one of the rear doors. “Just a heads up, if he's stable, your driver might need to be looked at real quick.â€

The first responder glanced over her shoulder before returning to what she was doing and snapping, “We'll have plenty of time while we wait for somebody to tow us out.â€

“Normally, yes but the vehicle doesn't seem to be leaking anything so I think once I get you out this ditch, you'll be good to go.â€

Wisp closed the hatch and poofed to the front of the ambulance. Rubbing her hands together she stepped up and took hold of the front bumper. Slowly as she lifted she felt the tires pull free of the muck of the ditch and before long she had the machine back on the road.

Her arms sang in painful protest to their recent treatment as she moved back to the driver's position. He had stopped bleeding so when he all but jumped to his feet she didn't try and keep him sitting. “She seems good to go.â€

As the medic team drove off, Wisp pulled the still hot scrap out of the road. Her body told her to stop, to rest. Fresh cries in the distance however told her she was far from done that night.

[Ari]

September 2011 Vignette: King of Suits

September 20th, 2011

It was a chill summer morning, with the shining star that was the Gorgon gleaming brighter than Venus. The sun hadn't yet fully crested the horizon, meaning that the light fog from the night still remained in thin wisps. The Fens, being right beside the South River, were still veiled in the last shreds on the riverbank.

On a rusting billboard above the eastern crossroads between 70th and Broadway, the caped and cowled King of Suits peered down at the rumbles of panic and fearful crime below. He had been extremely busy all the week long, busting attempts by supervillains to capitalize on the chaos, upstarts wanting to make a name for themselves by "...committing the Crime of the Century!!", usually involving shooting time with a glowing gun or something. He really had no clue where all these people were coming from, and sincerely hoped that the other heroes involved had a better handle on what was going on than he did.

Marceau watched wearily as the latest band of looters came rampaging down the streets, clutching to their bodies the fruits of their labors. A TV there, a large stack of energy bars there, and sundry items too numerous to categorize fast enough as he swooped down to deal with them.

He had no interest in doing battle with the crowd. While he knew perfectly well he could subdue them martially with no risk to himself, he understood that it would be highly counterproductive to treat them with such disdain. If he could convince them that it would be best to stop with their cooperation, he would have a good chance of using that as a springboard for dealing with future looters. First of course he had to talk them down.

Landing neatly, his cape flaring behind him dramatically, the King of Suits reared up to his full(and slightly lean) six feet 5 inches, a hand raised in a gesture of rejection and cessation, palm facing parallel to his body, fingers raised in a neat row of digits that showed off the armoring of his gloves. His voice, low and deep as it had been since he had turned 14, declared simply "Please stop your thefts. You'll gain nothing from this if you live or if you die. Please go to the portal leading to Sanctuary, you'll be safe there". The crowd stopped in their tracks and watched him warily, but didn't seem convinced. "How do we know that portal DOES lead to safety?" yelled one of the looters from the packed swarm of angry and frightened people "How do you know it ain't a trap? There could be monsters there!" Marceau opened his mouth to speak but was drowned out by the angry tidal wave of loud affirmations(some of whom had 'totally seen' monstrous beasts wandering in and out of the portal) threats against his person(including accusations of him being a supervillain and trying to get them to go to his secret base) and inane natter such as asking "What's Sanctuary?" after someone else had explained it(with varying accuracy) at least three times.

At last he gave a sigh and simply swung himself onto a store sign above the crowd, where he began by shouting "QUIET!" his voice carried quite well, and it cut through the growing din like a scythe through water. The people below simply carried on furiously demanding answers, promises of safety or just for him to leave them alone. But none of them were seriously planning to try and attack him(a few desultory stones were halfheartedly thrown his way though), so there was that, at least.

Realizing that this crowd was different from the others he had seen quelled or dispersed earlier, he switched tactics, dropping neatly into the middle of the crowd and tapping one of the looters he recognized n the shoulder. The woman he picked was named Sharon, a middle-aged Chinese-American worker in a steel factory he had struck up a friendship with upon his first arrival, dressed in an all-grey wardrobe. She was one of those hard-headed people that exuded dependability, and he gauged her presence to be a Godsend for the purposes of calming the panic, as she would have the 'One of Us' connection working for her. She frowned at him, asking the obvious question with a mere glance, which he responded to with a whispered "Could we work this out?". After careful deliberation on her part she nodded, a little brusquely, and began pushing her way out of the crowd, beckoning Marceau to follow. Once they were a short distance(no more than a meter or so) from the surly gathering of concerned citizens they almost simultaneously stopped and regarded each other. Sharon spoke first "Speaking for myself, I don't think you can protect us well enough to guarantee our safety. That's why we're doing this, to try and get some things to survive" the King of Suits nodded to the ones checking over their hauls of luxury goods "And them? What's there explanation?" Sharon's eyes narrowed "Nobody's perfect, King. I and the other organizers let people like that join us because for every useless piece of junk they pick up, there are ten vitally useful things you can use their parts for".

Leaning back against a storefront, Marceau observed the situation: they were clearly convinced of the rightness of their cause, they hadn't the self-delusion aspect to work with, and to make matters worse they were hitting on a very uncomfortable fact: next to nobody really knew how to fight off the coming monster, and any efforts on that score were by necessity being kept secret from the various unsavory powers too short-sighted to be trusted with knowing about their existence. So, that left the only really viable route: getting them to Sanctuary if he could.

Nodding to signal he had heard and understood what Sharon had said, he asked "What if I escorted you and yours to the portal?" the heavyset woman looked uncertain, glancing every now and then at the crowd and back to the lean man. After a minute's thought she replied "I might accept, but the rest would be pretty hard to convince of your ability. Don't misunderstand" she added, when Marceau opened his mouth to protest that "I and they know you're at least marginally competent enough to do what you do, but you can't fly, see to the ends of the Earth or shoot lasers from your mouth, so what you'd be able to defend us from is pretty limited really. If you could manage wrangling us to the portal we'd be grateful, but the general feeling is that you really can't do much for us"

Marceau considered that for several minutes, head slightly bowed. All too true, he reflected. At least he said "In that case, let me address the crowd. I've an idea" Sharon nodded her assent and returned to her haul, which had remained conspicuously untouched.

Marceau walked closer to the crowd, stretched out his hands once more, and called out sharply "Please! LISTEN!" Sharon, hearing the call, echoed the sentiment "Let's hear it! He might know what's going on!" she hollered over the noise of the crowd's varied demands. The mood slowly shifted, and after a minute's confusion, a pregnant silence reigned. If anything, their obvious expectation was even worse than their previous hostility. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Marceau began:

"I don't know what's going on" the angry cries began again but were quickly hushed by those interested in what he did know "However, what I understand to be the case is that a giant entity from space is coming to encase the world in nanites. That is a danger to every form of life on this planet, and as people like you and I can't fight it, we must try and escape it. The world we can escape to(courtesy of the gallant heroine Fluer de Joie) is Sanctuary, a place safe from this threat which those who choose to go there must only stay a short while until that evil-" he pointed to the distant star of Gorgon "-is ended. And we all know full well that the terror coming here cannot defeat the might of our heroes working to crush it's power: the valiant and brilliant successor of Ironclad, star-spangled Miss Americana, quantum-warping Supercape and the unmatched roboticist Dragonfly, not to mention that electronic citizen. Really, there's nothing to worry about. If you wish to evacuate the city until the threat has been dealt with, the world of Sanctuary will serve as a perfect hiding place. Call everyone you wish to go with you, bring them to the corner of 64th and Broadway, and I'll escort you to the evacuation area. If you choose to stay, let me know and I'll make a point of patrolling around your area more thoroughly. But whatever you choose to do, please don't steal from these businesses. They can barely keep their doors open as it is, and something like this may ruin them"

One of the men in the crowd shouted angrily "Oh yeah? How do you know?! You're just like all those guys from North Side, think you can dress up in a costume, beat up some guys down on their luck, be in bed by ten, and that somehow makes you a big hero!"

Marceau recognized the face and voice. Seda Mec, a Czech emigrant and part of the cleaning crew for the office complex he worked at himself. He answered with bland simplicity "I live around here"

The startled silence was like that heard in the dead of night, when you know you've heard something and are straining your ears to try and make sure you really heard it. He took it as a sign that he could resume. "I live around here, and I have to put up with everything you guys have to as well, and so do the people who run these stores. If you can respect me for doing what little I do, just for the fact that I live here too, please respect them for their work"

The crowd was clearly rattled, looking nervously from one to another, the morning sun reflecting on the thin layer of dirt so much of the Fens had over it, turning the thin shreds of mist to nothing before its burning gaze.

After a few moments, a lean old man stepped out from the crowd. He had a sack over his right shoulder filled with canned food, a dirty white polo shirt with dark brown shorts. He looked at the King of Suits uncertainly, at last saying in a startlingly warm and strong voice "I have three grandchildren, can you promise me they won't be attacked when we go to the evacuation point?" the cowled figure nodded. At this, most of the crowd tentatively moved forward, all of them asking in turn for his help keeping them and theirs safe as they prepared for evacuation, to fortify themselves, or just for its own sake.

As he jotted down addresses, apartment numbers and drew small, neat maps to facilitate the keeping of his promises, Marceau wondered if he had finally hit upon what he should have done in the first place. It would take a few days to get everything straightened out, but he knew he could do it, and he knew they could do it too.

The star of the Gorgon twinkled in the heavens, before it was abruptly over-shone by Sol Invictus. The last of the night was banished, and as the last stragglers went about, sheepishly returning the non-essentials they had stolen, a caped figure swung on a grapple line through the open window of a large apartment complex built in the center of the maligned Fens. The man had much to do, and needed help to do it. His friends, the vagrants, the harmlessly insane, the beggars, would all be essential to planning of this magnitude. All was ready, he just had to figure out how to put the pieces in order...

[Supercape]

September 24th

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean…

“Dammit, I’m a quantum physicist, not a geophysicist!†cursed Supercape as he slowly sunk to the depths of the vast Pacific Ocean, with two large concrete slabs tied to his boots as impromptu ballast.

Nevertheless, duty called.

All sorts of hell was breaking loose thanks to the Gorgon. Supercape was bone tired, having being monitoring all sorts of chaos from the Lab.

At least his university was rarely bothering him - theoretical scientists were not much in demand in these desperate times. Men of practical skills were. And of course, students were not coming to classes. They had better things to do, like be with loved ones, contemplate the universe, or, quite commonly, get blind drunk and party.

One of the many things he, and the other heroes (and guest scientists) at the Lab were monitoring was seismic activity, and a pip-pip warning alarm had alerted them to an imminent shake up in the middle of the Pacific.

A Tsunami was the last thing the world needed right now.

Of course, some of the water-controlling heroes might help stave of some of the damage, but they could hardly be everywhere at once. No, it needed to be stopped at the source. And they had only minutes.

Supercape was no geologist, but he had the advice of a guest one staying at the Lab: Dr Heinz Heinrich, a fussy German who insisted on wearing a bow tie despite not having slept or apparently eaten in two days.

“Ein Nuclear Bomb at Zis Precice Location†he said, stabbing at the holographic display of an undersea ridge in the middle of the Pacific “should induce ze required compensatory forces to ztoppen ze teutonic shift…†he proclaimed, after a few calculations.

A nuclear explosion delivered to the depths of the Pacific? Within fifteen minutes?

“I’ll get my cape†said Supercape.

After a brief stop off at a building sight for two handy slabs of concrete, he found himself sinking to the location, his head encased in a bubble formed by his remarkable costume of unstable molecules, providing oxygen and protection from the cold, high pressure environment of the ocean depths.

He couldn’t see a thing, of course. He was relying on his uncanny radar senses.

Hold on…what was that light? He thought to himself, before turning into the grotesque face of an angler fish a few inches from his bubbled head.

“Shoo†he said, waving the curious fish away as he continued his sinking.

He closed his eyes. No more distractions now. He could sense the terrain below him, mapped out before him as it had been with Professor Heinrich’s holographic displays back at the Lab. He need not be precision accurate, the Professor had assured him, just within certain parameters. His mind reached out to a few key molecules deep in a key region of the ridge.

He had to put everything into this, to create enough force. More than he had ever put in before. He took a deep breath in.

And the molecules shifted, and stopped existing.

Supercape was, in many ways, the least powerful superhero on Earth. He could only effect tiny changes, nudging atoms this way and that.

But E=MC2 and all that.

Tiny shifts, huge effects.

The explosion ripped apart the ridge, dust and rock flying everywhere. A shockwave spread out from the epicentre, roaring through the depths and hitting the exhausted Supercape square on. The force of it knocked him senseless, hurling him back up through the ocean, tearing the concrete away, and depriving him of his consciousness…

Later on…

Supercape bobbed up and down in the ocean, buoyant now his ballast had been torn from him. His bubbled costume still providing him with life support, he was quite well despite being face down and unconscious, floating on the waves for an hour or two. Still, he managed to pull himself up to a fatigued but conscious position.

“By Neptune, I do hate the sea…†he sighed, before he disappeared in a distortion of space and time…

[KnightDisciple]

11:15am, September 27th, 2011

Southside, Freedom City

Chaos. Everything in this section of the city seemed to be nothing but pure, unmitigated chaos. With healthy doses of fear, anger, and a whole host of other emotions. The air itself seemed thick with it all. People in Southside were milling on the streets; many stared up at the looming head of the Gorgon, “Preserver†of worlds, killer of uncountable innocents. Some wept, others prayed, and still others paced irritably. It was a virtual powder keg.

And then someone lit the fuse. A man in a wrinkled, dirty suit cried out suddenly, his voice bitter.

“Hey! That thing's still up there! Why haven't the heroes gotten rid of it, huh? What use are those costumed clowns? Shoot, what about those fancy-pants UNISON folks over at Freedom College? I bet they're holding on to some thing that'll let them get out of here when things go south. Well I say forget them! Let's go grab it! They can stay here with the capes and fight the big head in the sky!â€

The crowds seemed uneasy at first, but slowly the man seemed to work them up into more and more of a frenzy. Random individuals and groups in the crowds started all but chanting the man's seemingly insane rantings. But then, facing seemingly certain death made people act a bit crazier in general. Soon the mob of a couple thousand was marching down the street. Atypical of other mobs and riots, they weren't focused on breaking windows, stealing food and goods, or anything of the sort. Instead, the man in the suit at the front kept yelling out madness-inducing words to the crowd, keeping them focused on the goal of Freedom College. Almost like he had a sort of power over the mob...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the gymnasium of Freedom College, Sonya Sokolova was working hard to make sure people injured in this week of madness were put back in proper shape. She was thankful her work had slacked off some at this temporary UNISON outpost; she knew the comparatively worst cases went to the overtaxed hospitals, but it was still tiring dealing with those injured by riots, random violence, villain attacks, and so on. No one incident generated a lot of injuries. But there were so many, it piled up. As the only UNISON agent in Freedom City with meta-human healing powers, a lot of the injured were routed to Sonya's current location. She must have treated something like 400 people in the last week.

Suddenly, there was a cry of alarm from one of the perimeter guards, all three of them. The outpost was fairly bare-bones, all things considered, but the non-combat personnel needed at least a bit of protection. But with less than 20 people on-site in total, they weren't set up to deal with a crowd of (now) 500 angry people. Especially with only 6 of them being fully trained for combat; Sonya herself could help due to how her powers worked, but even she couldn't disable so many. As the crowd drew closer, they heard the angry shouts, the calls for UNISON to “give the people the evacuation they deserveâ€. A shiver of fear went down her spine; she knew there was no such means available.

“Everyone, inside, now! Lock up and start getting what patients we can mobile!â€

There was a flurry of activity, even as Sonya and the guards stood at the windows, watching the crowd draw near...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the mob, the leader stopped the procession perhaps 50 feet away from the Freedom College gym. It had been easy for them all to get on the campus; it didn't really have a closed fence, and a lot of the security was tied up keeping an eye on the kids stuck on-campus. So now they stood in front of a hastily-locked gym; there were about 20 UNISON personnel and about that many patients currently inside. The inciter turned to the mob, a slight smile on his face, and raised his hands in the air.

“You want safety for your families, right? To get away from this mess, this thing in orbit? Well, it's in there! You've all heard about the evacuations to another planet that some “select†people got to do. Well I say we're select people! All of us deserve a chance to get away from here too, and I think we're going to-â€

Suddenly, an astonishingly calm voice rings out, heard by everyone inside and outside the gym, like the speaker was casually standing next to them.

“Go back to your homes and be with your family and/or friends. If you feel so moved, perhaps go to a church, temple, or so on, and offer up a few prayers for the men and women working hard to keep Earth from turning into a silent monument for eternity. Because that's where most all of the heroes are; either on Earth or in space, working hard even now to keep this wonderful planet from being cast in iron. I know it's hard to grasp that when they seem to have simply run away, but consider where the Gorgon is located, and it makes more sense.â€

Everyone looked around for several moments, trying to find the voice. Suddenly, a silver-and-white blur shot down from the sky and landed gently on the grass, directly between the mob and the gymnasium. It turned out to be Gabriel, a hero now well-known throughout Southside. He stood there, his metallic armor shining in the sunlight, his white coat flapping a bit in the breeze, arms clasped behind his back, and a friendly smile on his face. He looked at the crowd, actually recognizing a few people here and there and giving them quick nods of acknowledgement. The crowd as a whole began to murmur; it was losing momentum, and fast. The man in front frowned and spoke again.

“Bah! As if prayers could do anything! And if the heroes haven't fixed things yet, there's no way they will now! We want that escape route! We deserve it!â€

“Unfortunately, it's not here. Or anywhere, really. I'm sorry, but there's no more places to evacuate to, not in time. We've already done what we can in those regards. This gym has nothing but an emergency clinic for people injured. In riots like this one, I believe. The closest thing to an “escape route†might be a few emergency short-range teleporters or the like. Those won't get you past city limits at best. So, you see, there's no point in barging in there and potentially hurting people who have done nothing to you folks. Why don't you all head on home. I know it's tough right now, feeling powerless in the face of all of this. I may be a hero, but there's really nothing I can do. I can't fly in space or move mountains. And I'm pretty sure I couldn't negotiate the Gorgon down from her motives. So I'm left doing what I can around the city.â€

“ARGH! You keep ruining my plans! Meddlesome mortal! You and your stinking faith! You will all BURN!â€

The ringleader was suddenly screeching in a voice that in no way matched his body. Everyone around him was stepping back, clearly frightened of what was going on. Or at least most everyone was; a half-dozen individuals stepped forward to stand next to him; they were some of the people who had cried out earlier, helping incite the crowd's temporary madness. Now, all seven of them leered at Gabriel, who simply stood there, seemingly unconcerned.

Even as the seven started up a chant in a horrific-sounding language that had Sonya and the others in the gym covering their ears in pain, Gabriel simply stood there, unflappable. He frowned a bit as he saw the crowd suddenly tense, before all their faces went slack, and their eyes were robbed of their spark of reasoning. This was the trigger for his hands to fall to his side, and a deep frown to crease his face. He raised his right arm up, palm facing the crowd, and suddenly his voice seemed to boom out over all of them.

“No. I forbid it.â€

And just like that, the “spell was broken, and the people started to panic. But even then, Gabriel's voice rolled over them like the calming waves of the ocean.

“Please do not panic; please escort yourselves home as calmly as you can, and make sure no one is left.â€

Despite the obvious calm, the crowd moved quickly, and within a minute, it was well away from the gym area. But the leader and his six lackeys remained. Sonya gasped as her gaze settled on their forms. Forms that were even now rippling and changing before their eyes, until they saw not men and women, but demons standing on the lawn. Gabriel himself seemed unsurprised.

The ringleader turned out to be, not a male demon, but an “alluring†succubus, clad in enticing clothing, bearing horns on her head and wings on her back, and wielding a pair of weapons; in her right hand was a flaming sword, and in her left a flaming flail. The six others with her transformed less drastically; they seemed to be fairly human-like demons, barring the horns on their foreheads, red skin, and pointy teeth and claws; none of their outfits changed, and they conjured no weapons or magic to enter battle with. Gabriel himself was moving around a bit in place, seemingly loosening up for the fight. Then, the succubus smiled viciously and pointed at him.

“Kill him. Then the rest inside. Let's see if we can drag the holy man's soul down with us; him and everyone inside. This is going to be so much-â€

“Of a failure for you. None of you shall pass. I stand in the gap, and none shall pass. You're welcome to try, demons.â€

Three rushed him at once, but he was faster. His left hand whipped up, and in an instant, all three were blasted back by twisting lines of sound, flying through the air before slamming to the ground. They did not stir from their positions, not even when the ground beneath them split into a fiery crack that consumed all three of them. The hero in white simply gave a humorous smile.

“Looks like they've been sent home like bad boys and girls. Guess I need to send the rest of you to your homes, too. Oh, and you, with the black jacket...BOO!â€

Somehow, it seemed to frighten the demon enough that it started sprinting away, clawing at the air until it actually created a portal of fire that it dove through. The last two thugs were so occupied watching their fellow that they never felt the twin blasts take them in the back of the neck, leaving only the succubus. She smirked, and without speaking swung her sword right at Gabriel's face. But instead of dodging, he raised his right hand...which suddenly held a shining spear that he used to parry the sword. He flew up for a few brief moments to avoid the flail, which he subsequently blasted away with his left hand, leaving the demon shaking its hand in pain. The burning weapon winked out of existence without the she-devil keeping it going.

“Hm. Good to know. Guess we're even on weapons now. Not that I needed one to beat you before. Don't need one now. Time to send you packing to your boss's lakeside retreat.â€

With that, he dove at the creature from the Pit, both hands on his spear. As he dove, he suddenly opened his mouth and let out a silent-to-humans scream that blasted away dirt around the succubus and left her reeling, her scaly skin cracked and bleeding. It was all the opening he needed to send the spear right through her blackened heart. Sonya was the only one who saw him flinch as the sword of hellfire jabbed up under his coat, apparently striking his left armpit in a glancing blow. For a moment, they stayed there, locked in a lethal embrace, before the holy hero lifted his spear to point generally toward the sky, and gave a shout that sent her flying up and out, and then through one last portal.

Gabriel himself dismissed the holy spear and floated down to the door of the gym. Sonya was there to greet him, ushering him off to one side, behind a privacy curtain that was partly closed. She wasted no time shoving her hands up onto his armpit, an action that made his eyes cross in pain as he groaned. Sonya herself merely gave a disapproving “tsk tsk†as a gentle glow came up around her hands, speeding up the healing of his sliced flesh such that he should be fine in about a minute.

“Ugh. That hurt. Thanks, I guess.â€

“You'd have bled to death you fool-headed Yankee. But you're welcome.â€

He gave her a mock-hurt expression.

“Hey now. I'm no Yankee. Not even from...uh. Not from around here, yeah.â€

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't press him.

“She acted like she knew you.â€

“Sorta. I've run across her a few times already. I kept stopping this plot or that. Not sure what exactly she wanted today, but it's not really important now. She's gone, all of you are safe...and hey, my arm's all better. Nice healing touch there.â€

“It's a gift.â€

“From God himself, I'd say.â€

“Something like that.â€

“Well. Um. That's that, I suppose. You lot take care of yourselves. I'll be hanging around the neighborhood. If I get shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, or otherwise harmed, I think I'll swing by here. Good staff.â€

“Thank you, I suppose. Try not to do any of those things. It's...bad enough today.â€

“Yeah. God bless...â€

“Lieutenant Sonya Sokolova of UNISON.â€

“God Bless, Sonya. Name's Gabriel. I'm sure we'll see each other around.â€

Before she could respond, there was a quick wind, and he was already out the door and up in the sky. After all, there might be more people that needed talked out of doing something foolish...

[KnightDisciple]

4:30pm, September 27th, 2011

Skies Above Freedom City

This whole week had really been quite horrible. At least, that's what the teenager dressed in blue armor thought as he raced ever-higher into the atmosphere directly above Freedom City. Part of him kept repeating a mantra to himself about the questionable nature of his self-appointed task.

'This is crazy. This is totally crazy. I'm crazy. Crap I'm crazy. This is going to hurt. Is this going to work?'

So went his thoughts for several seconds that seemed to stretch into infinity. Until he saw his objective, that is.

“That's...a lot of space junk.â€

His eyes flickered about as he viewed a veritable cloud of debris that was quickly falling from orbit (and beyond). Others were even now working to drive the Gorgon herself away, be it from special facilities on the ground, or from strategic positions far above. Unfortunately, that meant none of them were immediately available to stop this debris; most of it seemed to be heading for the ocean, and in small enough chunks to cause no damaging waves. But one cluster of it was headed straight for his home of just about a year now. Some were even now disintegrating on their own, the friction of re-entry proving too much for them. Friction wasn't going to get enough of them, though. So Cobalt Templar had come to take out the orbital trash.

Finally he slowed his descent, his body encased in a blue flame just as his face was partly hidden behind a mostly-clear visor that closed off his helmet. For just a moment, he just looked at the task before him, seemingly doing some mental calculations. Then, suddenly, he put both arms forward and manifested large, boxy missile launchers on each arm that he pointed toward the debris. His eyes danced across the pieces of junk before he began unloading missiles one by one. Each projectile of solid flame tore across the sky before slamming into another target, almost always blasting it into small enough pieces that they burned up. A few chunks took two or three hits, but after thirty grueling minutes of destruction in low earth orbit (just a few dozen miles below where Sputnik I orbited the Earth), he seemed to be done. The weapons on his arms dissolved, and Templar heaved a sigh of relief.

For the 60 seconds or so that it took for him to see it. The asteroid, heading straight for the very heart of Freedom City. It was huge; Corbin couldn't tell exactly how large, but some part of him knew it was enough to wipe out Freedom City and the surrounding suburbs. He narrowed his eyes and set his mouth in a grim, determined line.

“Not on my watch.â€

With that, he took off like a rocket, quickly achieving his max speed. He put both arms in front of him, and a cone of flickering, swirling fire formed. This cone acted like a drill when he impacted a few moments later, which meant that instead of breaking half his bones, he burrowed about a quarter of the way into the rocky missile.

“Ugh. Must have gotten dragged along with the snake-headed bitch...â€

The drill of fire ceases, and instead Cobalt Templar shifts, now putting both of his shoulders up against the asteroid's inner bulk, almost as if he was trying to lift it. The flames at his feet flare up, and energy ripples around his body as he pours everything he can into pushing the huge rock up. He can't afford to let it hit anywhere; the impact would devastate wherever it struck on land, and in the ocean it would cause too much of a wave. No, he had to get it going in the opposite direction. So he pushed. He put everything he had into it, sweat pouring down his brow. Slowly, slowly he managed to lessen the velocity of the huge rock; he was thankful it seemed to be composed of a conglomerate of materials, rather than being solid iron. But it was still horribly heavy; only his incredible powers let him push it as well as he did. It was back-breaking work; he felt all his muscles burning in protest, and for years to come he'd swear he felt half his bones moaning and creaking under the strain.

Finally, the rock stopped for a precarious second, still almost three hundred miles above the ground. Then, after almost a minute that probably left more than a few people in the city below rather nervous, the rock began to move the other way. It inched skyward, growing smaller and smaller from the ground. Finally, only those with telescopes could see it.

CT himself was working hard to give the rock enough momentum to ensure it didn't turn right back around to hit the Earth again; he knew he didn't have the energy to do this twice. So he pushed himself now, one last final huge burn that nearly turned him into a rocket. The space rock picked up velocity until it was moving out faster than it had been moving in. Templar let up for a moment so he could fly outside; he gauged the angle, flew back inside, and made a few corrections.

'Now it'll just go sailing into..the sun...'

Exhaustion latched onto his mind and body, and he slowly pulled himself toward Terra. His eyes were half-closed by the time he started to make re-entry, and he barely slowed himself in time to avoid a severe tan. He got himself within sight of the city, then sent out a weak telepathic signal.

“<Darlin'...I love you. So tired...>â€

He embraced the lure of sleep, and began to plummet like the rock he had just stopped. Thankfully, Ultiteen had heard his mind-speech; a few heroes rushing about caught a glimpse of her as she rocketed up in the nick of time to catch the blue-clad hero's unconscious form. She smiled down and gave him a quick kiss, an action that earned a faint grin from his face as his eyes fluttered for a moment.

“<Pretty...>â€

And then he slept, and his lover carried him gently to his home so that he could sleep a hero's sleep in his bed.

[Avenger Assembled]

Harrier

The End of the World: September 25, 2011

The Lands Beyond

Freedom League Antarctic Base

Rondane Mountains, Queen Maud Land, Antarctica

Murdock opened his eyes to darkness and cold, a child’s voice in his ear. “Mr. Murdock? Mr. Murdock?” He started, ever so briefly, and turned his head mechanically to see the girl in his room: Demeter was nine, the youngest of the four surviving children he, Dragonfly, and Miss Americana had rescued from the drone transport at the start of this terrible crisis. For children saved from the icy cold grip of the Terminus, they were well off. With her glowing red cybernetic eyes and mechanical voice, permanent markers of her time sealed within an Omegadrone’s shell, she could almost have passed for human. Her grip on his bare arm was urgent, and as he slid out of bed, he instantly realized this was no childish errand. The lights were out and the heat as well, given how his room had chilled from the cold of the Antarctic spring outside. As the two dozen humans appointed to this base could not survive here unaided, that meant something dire had befallen the place.

“I am awake,” said the former drone, hefting his power pike in hand and not minding his own state of near-undress. He was modestly covered enough for a child’s eyes in his shorts, and anyway there was no space for modest here. “What has happened?” Around Demeter, at least, and the other children, he could speak with the confidence that he didn’t feel around superheroes.

“They came when we were sleeping,” said the cyborg girl, her voice a low mechanical whisper in the dark. “They zapped Mr. Sheridan with some kind of electronic probe and they rounded up the staff and the other kids. They’ve locked them all in the radio room and I think they’re looking for me!” She had no idea who the base’s assailants were, a half-dozen black-masked humans, some with superpowers, but it was clear that they had come with sinister intent as they had targeted all the children who had once been Omegadrones.

As they spoke, Harrier armored up, his organic shell retreating inside his Terminus steel body to show the armored form inside him. Demeter didn’t look away; the little girl had seen worse and survived worse herself only very recently.

“Stay here,” he said without hesitation. “You are no fighter.” He bent down, his face hidden behind his soulless black armor, and said simply: “I will save you, and save all the children. It will be done.” Most children wouldn’t trust an Omegadrone to tell them that; most children would scream and scream and scream at the merest sight of one, but this was no ordinary child. She nodded wordlessly and took up a hidden position near the window, where her body heat would be distorted by the IR scatter from the window, Harrier himself using his pike to weld the door shut. By the time any searchers came looking for her, he’d have long since defeated them all. Or so he hoped. With Demeter protected, he went outside himself, his armor’s sensors effortlessly piercing the deep darkness of an Antarctic night, his armor proof against the biting cold outside. Circling low to avoid detection, black bubbles of flaming entropy belching from his rear flight pack along with unspeakably hot flames, he activated his onboard radio systems and found what he’d expected. Yes. Yes, there was only one reason people would come to this base on this day and take those children prisoner.

“...say again, Gorgon, this is Rook of the Knights for a Pure Humanity.” It was a human’s voice, a man, his words desperate with fear and urgency that he was masking behind a voice of command. Harrier knew that tone well. He’d heard it from many people about to die. Many at his own hand. “We have the Terminus prisoners rounded up and are prepared to execute them for you! We can eliminate every trace of Omega on Earth! Just respond to this message so we can open up a visual commlink, and we can show you that we hate Omega too! Please, respond!”

Though he considered donning the disguise of Caradoc for a moment, at those words Harrier didn’t hesitate. This was a time for his real face, even if it made diplomacy impossible: without a word he sped up and simply rammed into the radio dish at speed, driving his spiked body through the antenna before whirling in the air and firing a blast into the midsection that sent it tumbling down the mountainside and away from the semicircle shape of the League base. Before he could think to hesitate, he crashed through the roof of the communications tower, taking in the scene below in an instant: the League civilian staff bound and gagged, the children held at gunpoint by three armed mercenaries, and three Knights now standing around the radio control station with very surprised looks on their faces.

As anti-Terminus terrorists would, at the sight of a rampaging Omegadrone of course they sprang into action. And time seemed to slow down for Harrier as he raised his pike, crackling black entropic energy already forming at the tip. Thermal controller- He matched her fiery eruption with his own, the concussive force of energy meeting hurling the woman in black back against the far wall; her superheated exterior overwhelming the metal surface and sending her flying out into the frozen rock beyond. Terramimic- The rock-faced man charged a moment later, and Harrier reversed the pike, smashing the shrieking blade at the top into the man’s jaw, then bringing the blunt end down with lighting speed on the top of his head, the double-assault stunning the rocky powerhouse. “RAWRL!” Harrier growled like an animal, the sound pulled to bizarre extremes by his mechanical throat, and smashed the pike down on the top of the dead radio control panel, firing a divided blast that took the mercenaries off-guard; they’d been watching the dramatic superbattle with fascination, and so they’d hardly been expected to be targets themselves. But now they were down, blasted into unconsciousness, which left only:

“Stop right there, monster!” Rook had grabbed up Pluto, another of the children, a boy close to twelve years old, and was holding a massive blaster pistol against his head. “You stop right there, or I’ll blow this little freak’s head off!”

Harrier was impassively silent for a moment, pike still in hand, the only noise the sound of falling debris all around. “If I am a monster, why negotiate with me? An Omegadrone would care nothing for the life of a partially-assimilated drone. It would let you take his life, and all these others, and then take yours.”

“You...you have to act human, though!” said Rook, his hand shaking. “Otherwise even the stupid Freedom League wouldn’t trust you! I know what you really are, monster, and what these monsters in kids’ bodies are. And soon the whole world will know that killing you is what saved the world!”

“It is unlikely that destroying the liberated Omegadrones on this world will appease the wrath of the Gorgon. You would instead have to eliminate all those mutated by Terminus radiation, as well as those who share their genetic code,” replied Harrier emotionessly, just now beginning to feel the ache inside his armor where that flame-blast had super-heated his hands. “How many innocents will you slay to assauge your own fears?” Aching hands or not, he kept the pike leveled at Rook’s head.

“Innocents!?” The word seemed to offend Rook greatly. “You metal bastard, what the hell do you know about innocents? These aren’t children, these are...robotic zombies animated by the thing that killed their world! And you’re just like the monster that killed them! That killed-” He fell silent, but Harrier, who had imagined a conversation like this a thousand times, realized what hadn’t been said.

“That killed someone you loved. Perhaps a great many someones.”

“Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me! Put the pike down!” he yelled.

“Let me offer you an alternative.” Harrier set the pike down on the radio con station, assessing the situation and coming to the only decision he could. “I am an Omegadrone, albeit one freed forever more from Omega. These children are no longer such.” He stared implacably at Rook, his eyes invisible beneath the armor. “I did not kill your family. But I have killed families. More than you can imagine. If you want your revenge, do not dress it for the market in mad schemes of salvation.” He spread his arms wide. “Take your revenge now, and leave these children go.”

His hand trembling, Rook began to point the gun at Harrier...and Pluto _moved_, biting down on Rook’s free hand, making the man scream and wave the gun wildly in the air. Harrier acted without a moment’s hesitation, scooping up the battered pike and hurling it, blunt end first, at the man’s chest. It hit Rook with force enough to stave in his ribs and sent him hurling backwards against the wall with bonecrunching sureness.

Harrier, the League staff, and even the kids were a long time repairing the base, Harrier (in his Caradoc disguise) actually flying over to the nearby Pakistani Antarctic weather station for food and supplies: the Pure Knights and their mercenaries sullen and silent in their makeshift holding cell as they waited for the League flight to come pick them up: as it happened, the Pegasus jet didn’t come until after the Gorgon had come and gone, leaving the Earth to pick itself back up after the chaos of her coming. Riding in the jet with the captured terrorists, Harrier was addressed by Rook for the first time in over a week.

“You lying scum-sucking bastard,” he spat from his restraints once they were in the air, glaring at the scarred man across the body of the plane from him. “You let me think you were some kind of martyr just so your little cyber-brat could get the drop on me!”

Murdock stared back at Rook impassively. In his mind were the screams of millions of uncounted dead, the horror that had come so close to overcoming this world in so many different guises. What he’d survived. What those children had survived. What Rook, aka James Jordan, who had lost his parents and siblings to the invasion of 1993, had survived.

“I am no martyr. And you were not deceived.”

[trollthumper]

Approaching the Edge

September 22, 2011

Greg Macayle worked his way out to the balcony, baseball bat in his hands. He told himself the disturbance was probably nothing, likely a car backfiring on the street below. But since that thing had shown up in the sky, all good sense and reason seemed to have vanished from a large chunk of Freedom’s citizens. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He threw open the curtain at the same time he pulled the door open, and came out with the bat raised over his head. He put it down the second he saw who was sitting in the chair.

“Evening, Joe.â€

Joe Macayle sat in an old plastic chair that had obviously seen better days, looking out over Southside. For a second, Greg wondered how he’d gotten out on the balcony – but that thought fell apart quickly when he remembered just what his son could do these days. He’d probably leapt up there himself.

“Hey, Dad,†he said. He was sitting in the shadows, his helmet resting in his lap; he’d been looking out at the city when Greg had barged in. “How’s it going?â€

“Could be better.†He set the bat down and took a seat next to Joe. He peered over the balcony at Freedom; in the distance, he could see fading smoke, the sign of extinguished fires. “You’d think this was something new.â€

“Think it’s the first time in a while that it was this bad.â€

“Really? What about the Grue? Those zombies last Halloween?â€

“Yeah, but that’s Freedom. You accept this crap happens, and you buckle down. This…†Joe turned his head up towards the moon, looking to where the Gorgon had made itself known a few days before. “Think this is the first time in a while the city had to deal with the idea that this was it. Aliens? Zombies? You can kick their ass if you hit hard enough. That thing? What’ve we got?â€

“You’re really gonna ask that one, Joe?â€

“Okay, so we’re not screwed. But… goddamnit, I hate feeling powerless. That thing’s up there and I can’t do crap. I just… I’m just down here, trying to clean up while everyone else goes nuts. And I’m trying to keep it together, but… feels like I’m not doing crap.†Joe looked up, and Greg could see the dread in his son’s face. “God, it’s the first time I’ve felt powerless, since… well… all of this.â€

The night air hung heavy with silence, neither man speaking. Finally, Greg forged forward. “Joe,†he said, “how much do you remember about the Terminus Invasion?â€

“Not a lot,†he said. “I remember you and Mom keeping me in the bedroom with Andy. Windows boarded up, a lot of yelling… I was five. Don’t really remember a lot from then.â€

“You have no idea what it felt like then. The sky split open, those things tearing through the city… we all thought it was the end of the world. And I remember feeling just like you do, like I had to do something – but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you guys behind. I just had to put my trust in the hands of greater men… and I did. And we pulled through. I did what I could to protect my family. It was all I could do. We do what we can, Joe. And there’s not a whole lot you can’t do.â€

Joe just sat there, meditating on those words. He was about to say something when a loud explosion rang out from across the river. “Well,†Joe said as he slid the helmet back on, “there’s something to do. See ya, Dad. Once we pull out of this.â€

He leaped from the balcony, easily clearing the street below, and took off bounding across the river from there. Greg looked out on the man his son had become, and walked back in to the apartment. He knew where his trust was these days.

[Avenger Assembled]

Edge

Front-Row Seats

September 27, 2011

Ashton and Grenville

When Mark opened his front door on the day the world was supposed to end, he expected one of his Claremont friends, maybe his mother (assuming she’d found a way home despite the grounding of commercial flights that had kept her in Emerald City all through these last few days), or someone from the Liberty League. He’d thought about going over to Midnight Manor or Danger Mansion, in fact, but his corner of the city was eerily quiet today under the terrible gaze of the space-god in the sky: his friends were dealing with this situation in their own way, and if they wanted him, they’d get in touch. This was a private time for reflection and deep thought, and being available in an emergency.

A superpowered princess with a bottle of wine in her hand wasn’t really an emergency, but it was the thought that counted. “Agent Lucas,” snapped Nina al-Darsah, looking a little tired: like Mark, she evidently hadn’t been sleeping much the last few days, and she hadn’t bothered to keep the water off her on the flight over here. “Is this where you live? It’s so...small.” She was wearing a black shirt and skirt that clung close to her knees, both of them of some stretchy fabric that repelled the water on her skin.

“This is where I grew up,” replied Mark, a little heatedly. “Shouldn’t you be over in Socotra with your father?”

“Well, he’s closed the borders to all outsiders, and he left me out here as his...well, he didn’t really explain why...” Nina waved the bottle for emphasis, and Mark noticed for the first time that it was half-empty. “And, well, I realized you were the only person in Freedom City I actually knew who wasn’t afraid of me, so why not come here?”

Mark had no good answer for that, especially since he was alone, so he invited her in, joining her on the couch and turning on the news, anything to get away from the monster watching them from space. He told her to call him Mark, which meant he had to call her Nina, and they were very companionable for a moment before she asked him suddenly, “Did you really kill Omega?”

“...not for good,” said Mark after a moment’s hesitation at what had evidently been a penetration of his secret identity, looking over at her on the couch next to him, the two of them surrounded by the family pictures his mother had never taken down after he’d moved out to Switzerland. “But we fought him and won. Not many people can say that. Why do you ask?”

“I wonder about superheroes,” she said, giving him a slightly blurry look. “You saved the world. You’ve probably done it before, the way you people work. And now there’s a giant space god coming down planning to destroy the planet and every living thing on it! Doesn’t that make you feel, well, bad? That you did all that and we’re all going to die anyway?”

“We’re not going to die, Nina,” said Mark firmly. “We’ve fought monsters before, even big ones, and we’ve come out all right. Just the other day my team and I fought the god of thunder and won!”

“Yes, I heard about that. But this is a lot bigger than some divine manifestation, isn’t it?” She pointed at the sky with the bottle and leaned back, stretching her athletic body out as she put her feet up on the table. “I-”

Mark frowned. “Don’t do that. My mom works hard keeping this place nice.”

Nina shot him a hard look, but put her feet down on the carpet anyway. “Well, you’re in a more commanding mood that now that we’re on a first name basis, Mark. You wouldn’t have talked that way to me back when you were my bodyguard.”

“That was when I was assigned to protect you. Getting into arguments about your tone would have been stupid,” Mark shot back.

“And you don’t think it’s stupid to fight about my tone now?” she asked him challengingly.

“No. If you’re only a good person when the chips aren’t down, there’s nothing at stake. Principles are what you do when bad things are happening. Otherwise you’re just giving the world a fake face because it’s easier. Are you fake, Nina?” he asked her.

She thought about that for a minute, then hefted the bottle. “This wine’s real.” They moved outside sometime after that, Mark unrolling a blanket in the backyard to get a better look at the space god overhead. It was one way of being defiant when they didn’t have a lot of other options. After they’d both drunk some more, Nina looked over at Mark. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she finally offered. “I just...want people to notice me. I’m the youngest of thirteen children, you know.” She hmmed. “And it’s especially needed now, when we’ve got that...THING up there!”

“I understand,” said Mark after a moment’s reflection. “You’re from a different place, and I can’t expect you to act like other girls all the time. But you still can’t just be a jerk to everyone because that’s how you were brought up. I was brought up...” He took a sip of wine. “Not like the person I am now.”

“Well, you seem like an all right person to me,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “So, you think of me as a girl, eh? Not just Princess al-Darsah?” It was increasingly obvious, even to Mark, that Nina might have had nefarious intentions in coming over to his house.

Mark looked down, deep into Nina’s huge dark eyes. “You are Princess al-Darsah. And a girl. A very pretty one, too.” He’d told her that before on the plane, mostly to distract her from telling off the flight attendant, but it was certainly true. “And you’ve been drinking, and I’ve been drinking, and the Gorgon’s probably watching us right now.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked him, reaching up and putting her hand on his cheek. “Being watched?”

“No, no, it doesn’t.” He reached up and put his hand on hers, thinking about all his high school hookups. “But what does it mean if we-” Suddenly, there was a crash from the street and they both jerked their heads up, the sound of blaring car alarms and crying voices immediately getting Mark’s attention. “C’mon,” he said, jumping to his feet. “We’ve got to help!” he said, his costume swirling into being around him a a thought.

Nina stared at him for a moment, then without a word cracked open their wine bottle, summoning a raft of liquid for her to ride on. They worked together on the disaster outside, a car that had drifted off the road and hit a lightpole, Mark tending to the driver while Nina put out the burning engine, and made sure the paramedics took him away. He’d never seen the hydrokinetic princess in action except in combat, but she could handle herself here with uncommon grace, using the wine to smother the flames before the alcohol could ignite, looking pleased with herself when it was done.

Afterwards, both of them sooty and sweaty, they went inside to get cleaned up. They were alone in the house for the rest of the night.

[Avenger Assembled]

Citizen

The Far Realms

Backup Site

Sanctuary

September 24, 2011

Standing on the surface of an alien world, Sharl Tulink couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like had Tronik had access to other dimensions back in the long-ago time before the Exodus. Back before the supernova, back before digitization. Presumably the citizens of Tronik would have evacuated just as the people of Earth were doing now, except they’d have moved their entire population and not just a select few. They’d have built their city again, begun anew...”And I’d be dead,” he commented to no one in particular, his humming projector all that was keeping him active and conscious on this primitive world of unrestrained vegetation and giant alien animals. (He’d thought some bad things about the primitive human inhabitants at first, but luckily Fleur de Joie’s briefing had told him what had happened here, and so he’d learned without saying anything unforgivably stupid)

In a few minutes, Sharl would walk back to the emergency League technical station set up on Sanctuary and give them his incredibly precious cargo. But for now, the electronic teenager was content to wander the alien woods, never minding the sound of gigantic bees fluttering about overhead. He’d met the young one who was going to be his classmate later in the year; the cheerful giant insect (though tiny next to her aunts and sisters) had been full of questions about his electronic nature he’d done his best to answer before making his excuses. He wasn’t going to be there long; he just had to drop something off before going back through the flowery portal to rejoin his friends. But for the moment, he had some time to himself, so he sat down beneath a tree and opened the box he carried, peering in at the carefully sealed alien computer that was his most precious of cargos.

“Well, I finally did it.” He rested his hand on the metal case that held Tronik. “I got us to another world. Hell, another dimension, even.” He knew the people inside couldn’t hear him; only his family and Leroj knew he was active on the outside, and after some consideration he’d only told Leroj about the threat facing the planet and his solution. He’d leave Tronik here, secure in the sealed container Miss Americana had manufactured, and let it run on the small perpetual power generator in the computer station. If nothing happened, they’d go back to the Sanctum in a week. If the Earth was lost...well, Tronik could go on without any more faults for fifty, sixty years with the programming and hardware changes worked by Dragonfly and Miss Americana, running until hopefully the local civilization could rebuild enough to give the people there a more permanent home. “All fifty million of us.”

He closed his eyes, making sure to shut the computer first, as, not for the first time, all the responsibility of the moment came crashing down on him. Fifty million people in Tronik, and damn few people on the outside would see them as anything but disposable data. If something went wrong, if what passed for civilization on Earth-Prime fell, would anyone care about the little box with what had once been his whole world in it? About his family, his friends from home, and everything else? He was close enough to touch them all, but so far away he might as well have been in another dimension too. It was tempting to just upload himself again and go back home, to tell his parents that it had all been a mistake and that he could be a hero in Tronik again. The only superhero, in the only place he ever really felt at home. In a place where the trees felt real, where the food felt real, and...

No, it doesn’t. He reminded himself grimly. If he went back now, when he was needed back on Earth, all he’d be doing is proving his own cowardice. Like it or not, as much as he missed his family, Tronik didn’t need a flying strongman like he was back home, at least, they didn’t need him now: they needed someone to keep them safe out here in the world of flesh and substance, where Sharl himself was just a ghost of light and magnets. He’d come out for a reason, to find out what the world was really like, and he’d stayed out because his powers and his knowledge meant he had a special responsibility: he had to save Tronik, and he had to be a hero: the only hero his people had, possibly the only one they ever would have. He thought about his last visit home despite himself, though, and missed the comforting safety of real walls that rose up high, with just a glimpse of comforting green sky overhead, the forest of steel and screens that had been his home for almost all of his life. “I guess it’s true what they say. You really can’t go home again.”

[Breella]

September 16th 2011

Gwen stood on the bank of the Wading River. She'd made so much progress on the days before and wore her self out so that she slept in a little longer today. Gwen took her time with breakfast and tried to converse with some of the natives Fleur had introduced her to. By the time Gwen made it out to the banks the sun was already high in the sky. 'Look really good now' the Vines said with joy. Gwen had to agree, the bank was starting to look a lot like the canals back home. Though the Vines hadn't said it Gwen could feel that they were disturbed by how barren the land had been, and majorly still was. She moved over to a large boulder she had unearthed with the help of the Vines and sat on it looking out over the mouth of the river. The rubble made dam mouth had been covered with silt and sand and Gwen made it into a living blockage with some variety of ferns, marshpinks and asters. As she daydreamed the Vines brushed the hair from her face.

“I keep thinking...†Gwen pulled some seeds from her tacklebox and began stroking them in her hands.

“What if this becomes home? I could make a life here doing this for Fleur.†A baby blue flower caressed Gwen's ear from the Vine.

'New home? Old home better, old home greener, old home have friends.' Gwen could feel a pang of hurt at the mention of friends. She had tried hard to put all thoughts of the dangers they would be facing out of her head. She put the seeds down onto a wet section of newspaper and they began to unfurl and grow slowly, though it was light-speed compared to their normal growth rate. Gwen reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone and began to cry.

September 18th 2011

“Here, these are ready to be planted.†Gwen handed off several sprouts to a young girl who turned and headed back to a group who was spaced out at arms length, six teens total who were planting rows of cord grass in what Gwen hoped would become a nice tidal pool in a few hours. Gwen herself sat cross legged in the mud at the mouth of the canal where water streamed in around her. The Vines had rooted themselves and cut off most of the water flow to allow the group to assist Gwen. With the six natives helping her Gwen could, and had gotten so much more work done. Gwen had moved onto the third area down the canal. She looked over her shoulder at her previous areas of work. They had, with her help grown into large flourishing tidal pools of green. Gwen stood up as much as she could with the Vines still entangled in the silt and clay behind her. “All Clear!†She yelled out and the teens all ran to the left bank and sat down, watching and waiting. The Vines slowly began to pull back and the water began to flow faster Gwen let her hands fall to her sides and the pale green glow began. She closed her eyes and her breathing came slow and steady as the glow spread out in the water and the plants in their neat rows began to grow rapidly.

September 20th 2011

The sun hadn't fully risen yet but Gwen headed out for the canal early. She hiked over some of the piles and made her way towards the banks. The Vines were playing across the rocks, lifting Gwen as they went. She smiles and laughed like a child raised off the ground by her parents arms. She could tell that they were trying hard to cheer her up. Gwen hadn't noticed how deep the link between she and the Vines actually ran until coming to Sanctuary. The pale orange/pink glow lighted the rocks and dirt and glittered off of what was becoming a rather clean pool of water in the canal. The refugees were coming in more now and Gwen was glad that she had succeeded in creating a supply of water that was clean enough to only require a small carbon filter to drink. The banks of the canal were brimming with coastal wetland flora and the submerged plants were thriving. Three pools that Gwen had created that emptied into one another in succession were working overtime to filter the water but Gwen had assured them that they could rest in a few days when the refugees would be going back to their own Earth. “If we go back to our Earth.†Gwen scuffed the dirt with her shoe as the sour though hit her. She missed her mother and father, she missed her grandparents, godparents, she missed shopping and sparing with Vicky and she found her self wishing that she could talk to Brian-- to show him the beautiful area she had created. Gwen got to the shore and made her way through a growth of cat tails and walked into the water, it was waist deep and she sank her body to the shoulders. The mint, lily and hyacinth crowded around her, cradling her and she began to daydream.

September 22nd 2011

Gwen had made so much progress on the shoreline that Fleur had allowed Gwen to rest most of the morning. Gwen laid about in her hammock, far away from the nearest refugee. Gwen skipped through her digital photos. Most of the plants Gwen had introduced and grown in her first days here at Sanctuary were already spreading out and seeding, the most recent areas while sparser growth than those before it were still formidable. The area already looked like a wonderful east coast wetland. The photos flashed on the screen, some of the barren area that was there before and then suddenly there was one of Vicky and herself at the Renaissance Fair. Both teens had their heads in the gallows and were making faces at Brian and Morgan who were flanking the girls. Gwen put the camera down and pulled her shoes on. It was time to get back to work.

[Electra]

September 26, 9pm

Freedom City, The North End

It looked like the beginning of the end for the city that had seen and survived so much danger all these years. As the moon rose over Freedom City, it was almost lost in the unnatural brightness streaming off the other celestial body in the sky, not visible here yet, but very soon. Erin stood on the roof of her apartment building and stared up at the sky for a few minutes, feeling the knot of bitterness burning at her stomach. Had it all been for nothing? All the fighting, all the trying, all the pain and sacrifice so some cosmic entity could murder them with a thought like a bunch of bugs in a jar? How could it end like this? Even now it didn't seem real, the idea that in mere hours they'd all be dead, standing like statues in whatever position they'd been in at the last. She'd been given the opportunity to go to Sanctuary, the current off-dimension evacuation headquarters for Freedom City, but she'd declined. Her new next-door neighbor was only a few years older than she was, and had two little kids. She'd been grateful to take the spot when Erin had given her the rendezvous location and sent them along. They deserved a chance to live, but Erin couldn't run ahead of dying worlds forever. If Prime was going, she would go with it. But at least she wasn't going to go alone.

She leapt into the air and aimed for the gleaming spires of Hanover's science palaces, one hand holding onto the passenger on her shoulder. Charlie had good claws and a firm grip, but the kitten still wasn't used to near-flight travel and she didn't want him freaking out and losing hold. She felt him purring nervously under her hand, but he stayed very still as she bounced over the Wading River and through Hanover, then into Kingston. There was some isolated rioting in the city tonight, but it was more the church revival kind rather than the looting and violence sort, people praying for a reprieve to God or the Freedom League, whatever struck their fancy. Erin was inclined to let them do what they wanted, whatever made them feel less helpless. She wore her uniform just in case, but there seemed to be little that could be done. It would only get worse in the small hours of the night, when that big hideous face loomed down on them from the sky.

Erin drew up short halfway through Kingston, surprised to find she wasn't alone on the roof of the five-story brownstone she'd landed on. Her first thought was another patrolling hero, but the person standing on the ledge and looking down didn't have the air of someone watching over the city, but of someone run over by it. Suicides were way up right now, she knew, and suspected that this middle aged man was another potential statistic. "Hey!" she called. "You okay?"

He startled, and for a moment Erin was sure she was going to have to leap after him when he fell from the ledge, but he kept his footing and his balance at the last moment. She watched him look her over, see the uniform. "Nothing's okay!" he cried, his voice full of rage and despair. "We're all going to die, haven't you heard? And the heroes, you heroes, aren't doing a goddamned thing! I thought you were supposed to save us! Now nothing can save us!" He turned to the open air again, took a deep breath.

"Hey wait!" Erin called before she even knew what she was going to say. "If you don't want to die, why the hell are you jumping off a building?" she demanded.

"Why not?" he asked. "Save a few hours of waiting, right? What do you care? I thought all you metas were in some secret bunker off-planet anyway, letting us cook."

"That's not true," she told him with a shrug. "People who are scared spread rumors. There are evacuations, but I don't know hardly any heroes who have left, except the ones who are necessary to run things there. The rest of us are staying here, no matter what happens. It's our world too, for however long it lasts."

"I can't stand it!" he burst out. "How are we supposed to just sit here and wait to die? It's effing torture, that's all it is! We may as well put bullets in our brains now, or just jump..."

"That's a stupid way to think," Erin snapped, loudly enough to catch his attention again. "Every minute, every hour you have is a gift. It's an opportunity to do something good, or to make a difference, or just to make another person a little bit happier. All you're thinking about now is yourself and how you're scared , and that's only going to make it worse. Maybe the Gorgon is going to kill you, but she's not going to make you less of a human being. Don't let her make you be less than you are. Go and do something. Go and call your family, or write a poem, or just give a dollar to a homeless guy because you're a person and you live in Freedom City and the Gorgon can't beat you. Not unless you let her." From her shoulder, Charlie meowed in apparent agreement.

The man half-turned from the ledge as Erin spoke, watching her with a strange combination of resignation and interest, one that turned to puzzlement. "Is that a kitten?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Erin admitted, still a little surprised at her own impromptu speech. "If things don't turn out, and I have to fight tonight or I don't make it home, I wanted him with me." She took a step forward and held the kitten in her hands, reaching out just far enough that he'd have to come off the ledge to reach. "He's friendly. His name's Charlie."

There was a beat of stillness, then with a sigh, the man stepped off the ledge, onto the gravel of the rooftop. He extended a hand and stroked the kitten's soft orange fur, making Charlie purr with delight. "I have a cat," he said, his voice gruff. "I should probably... he needs some food and water. And maybe I'll let him finish out the treats in the cupboard."

"That's a good idea," Erin agreed quietly. She wasn't sure if Charlie had Oliver's nigh-supernatural ability to calm the hurting, but he seemed to be doing all right at the moment. "I'm not going to count us out yet,"she told the man, looking him in the eyes. "Freedom City has come back from worse than you know, worse than you can possibly imagine. I think we have more good days left." She waited until the man had gone back into the stairwell before heaving a huge sigh. "Let's hope I'm right," she told Charlie, then replaced him on her shoulder and jumped away.

[Supercape]

Rene deSaens

21st September

The Louvre, Paris.

Rene de Saens was a friend and Patron of the Louvre. The greatest collection of art known to man, he always said, and not without good reason. The Louvre was vast, labyrinth, and full of painting that truly could be said to be priceless.

In these dark times, Rene had (by means arcane) popped over to the building to meet with Luis Moreaux, the head curator of the Louvre. The most magnificent pieces, such as the Mona Lisa, had been locked away in the near impregnable vault at the base of the Louvre, although it did not have space for all the magnificent art. Nerves where frayed but morale was high. The dedicated staff wanted to do their best to protect the cultural heritage of mankind.

Of course, the dread and powerlessness was persuasive and pervasive.

“One must do what one can, Rene†said Luis, shrugging his shoulders in a somewhat oversized suit. He looked haggard and sleepless. “The prize items are now locked away. For all the good that will do. But our staff, you know, they want to be with their family, face the end together, not spend it here. “

Rene nodded sagely. “And so it should be, Luis†he replied. “For those that have a family. For others, this hallowed ground of art is their family. It is a temple, a cathedral, nothing less, my friend. Do not diminish its importance. “

Luis sighed. “We had toyed with the idea of keeping it open, free, unstaffed. People might – well, they might have wanted to be here at the end. Looking on the art of the centuries, the history, looking at man..â€

Rene nodded. “Looking at themselves, Luis. That is what everyone does, in some way, when looking at art. And what a better way to spend the end. Looking at a something sublime, contemplating the infinite…†he gave an old, bittersweet smile.

“But tell me, my heart bleeds for the loss of man’s art to oblivion. I remain hopeful, as do we all, that something…magical…will happen and Earth will be spared. But if it is not, could not these treasures be saved from the onslaught?â€

“How do you mean?†asked Luis, interested, but with a heart heavy with despair.

“There are other worlds, other dimensions…safe from the peril we face, Luis. Now, I have always somewhat obscured my…other…activities, but you know of which I refer to. Behind my obliqueness and dismissiveness I do have something up my sleeve. The transport of a few prized items to…somewhere else…safe…â€

Luis raised both eyebrows. “Vague as ever. I would ask you to speak plainly in this desperate time, you old fool, but I know that the drama will only make you clam up tighter!†the idiocy of the situation actually brought a almost-forgotten smile to the lips of the curator.

“If all is lost, then at least these testaments to man are not. And if by some chance earth prevails, they will be returned. I trust you know me well enough not to steal them…â€

Luis actually chuckled at that. “On that point, you will have no disagreement. But…is this place safe? He asked cautiously. “

“Where is?†replied Rene with an open shrug. “Safer than here, that will be certain. But to give you more assurances, yes, it will be safe. I shall ensure certain…bargains are made, certain oaths are sworn. And these things are not intangible and discarded like the world we live in today, my friend. “

“Ah yes, were is the honour?†sighed Luis. “But enough of such morbid thoughts, today, and all days to come, our thoughts shall be on the nobility of men, how wondrous in deed they be. You know Rene, as my thoughts turn to Shakespeare, I can even feel some love for the English…â€

“…let’s not get too emotional†mumbled Rene, with a smile.

The two men pottered off for a small glass of wine.

[Supercape]

Lord Steam

September 27th

Steam Manor.

“Hurry along chaps, get going!â€

Lord Steam had a small, well – by his standards of living, small, retinue of staff at Steam Manor in Freedom City. And since he had taken up residence in Earth Prime a year ago, he had become quite fond of them.

And they of him, once they had gotten over his eccentricity and anachronisms. He could come off as a bit of a stuck up toff. Well, they conceded, he was a stuck up toff. But at the end of the day he was a jolly spiffing chap, they would say.

Then they would sigh, and realise that his ridiculous way of talking was spreading.

As part of his loyalty to his staff, Lord Steam had greased some wheels and pulled some strings on Earth Victoriana.

He didn’t like it.

The whole world was going to pot, dammit.

He had been in consultation with M, the British government, and the department of extraordinary affairs for weeks now, with communication becoming increasingly more common. The royal society for metaphysical engineering had started becoming concerned about a Gorgon invasion in the Earth Victoriana dimension.

Even Lord Steam scratched his head at the thought of a planet sized, steam-powered version of the Gorgon on his home dimension. That would be quite a sight…

In any case, the British Government had ordered him removed back to his home dimension for “his own safety†during the “crisis, in which we wish our Earth-colonial our very best wishes and stand by them in their hour of need†– to use official speak.

And as official diplomat, that was what he had to do. His old man father had insisted too. And one didn’t ignore Lockwood senior lightly.

Still, he kicked his heels and bit his lip and wallowed in his frustration, this was his second home now. And he liked it!

He had tried to do what he could. It wasn’t really his field. A bit of crime-busting on the streets (in disguise this time), seeing if any of his steam powered inventions would be of any use against the high tech hyper advanced technology of the Gorgon. But of course, his impact was limited.

Time was running out, and things where looking bleak.

What could he do?

The answer of course, was he could do what he could. A simple answer, but there, he concluded, you have it. So, with a furious scribbling of quill and parchment, he set about organising “special executive visa’s†for his staff and their families in Earth Victoriana. He prayed for success against the horror of the Gorgon, and would do so until the last, but he felt this was just something he had to do.

It wasn’t fair of course. A whole world could end up be destroyed. Why should he be the one to – completely arbitrarily – chose who should live, and who should die? What cruel fates threw dice with people lives like this?

He felt like he had the blood of a city – a nation – a world – on his hands.

All he could do was remember, and continue telling himself, time and time again, that it was better to save a few that to save none. The only other choice was inactivity. He had to do something – and this was what he was doing. No, it was not fair, but it was at least something.

His heart felt crushed and leaden as he lead the small group of his staff and relatives to the portal built to take them to his home dimension. He had no doubt that the same concerns and guilt preyed just as heavy, if not heavier, on the minds of many with him. Survivor guilt, they called it. But people were doing it for their families as much as themselves.

So he put on a brave face, as chipper as ever, and jostled and fussed and threw himself around with faux-arrogant aristocratic theatrics. People smiled, people got on, people forgot.

If only for a moment, people forgot.