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Library Claremont Academy Freedom City United States of America What was this unfamiliar sensation? Oh. Yes. Regret. That was it. Jake lay across two chairs in a back corner of the academy library - a stick of black licorice sticking up out of his mouth like a flagpole; lightly shaking as it was chewed. He was dressed in his usual fashion - tooled leather boots, blue jeans, sleeveless shirt, wide-brimmed hat, metal limiter harness. Around him lay the detritus of study, more specifically, a ten-page essay on the significance of early adoption of capes in heroic fashion. Well, more like one page, at the moment. If you were being generous. And counted two words at the top as a 'page'. And counted your name as two words. The fact that it was due tomorrow, in turn, may have been contributing to the unfamiliar sensation. Jake chewed on the licorice (still tasted like drek, damnit), staring at the ceiling tiles.

Wednesday August 24, 2016 The Waterfront, Freedom City GM Post Tourism had always been a valuable source of income for the city of Freedom. The main draw was obvious - FC had seemingly more superheroes per capita than any other city in the nation. And once you got here, the residents had devised many other ways of extracting your money from your wallet. The casinos were always popular, as were the restaurants. But one of the most consistently popular tourist activities was the citywide tours offered by a number of organizations. When the city was full of superheroes - and consequently, a history of superbattles - it made for an town rife with landmarks. The waterfront had proved to be a surprisingly popular location for many tourists. The many docks and cargo ships that were constantly coming and going, loading and unloading, was already an impressive enough sight. Add in the ability to recant the history of the various superbattles that had taken place there, and you had a major inconvenience for the workers who had to be constantly shooing clueless tourists away from loading zones. It was a hot day, with the sun beating down fiercely on the city from the sky. Cargo ships blared their deafening horns as they methodically rumbled through the water - which did nothing to deter the busload of overexcited tourists from taking pictures of everything that moved while chattering to each other excitedly. The guide seemed to be weakly attempting to get them back to the subject of whatever landmark they were supposed to be admiring - but the crowd was cheerfully ignoring her, their attention having instead been captured by the spectacle of a forty-foot shipping container with a "Mercury Shipping" logo in the side being hoisted into the air by a towering crane. For residents or citydwellers, it was a none-too-impressive sight, but for those new to both Freedom and cities in general, it was apparently miraculous. Sharp-eyed observers might have noticed dockworkers expressing some consternation at the situation. The unruly tourists were crowding entirely too close to the work zone for comfort, disregarding the yellow warning signs. If there was an accident or malfunction of some sort, bad things could happen - but what were the chances of that happening?

Above Silberman's Books. Monday, August 1st, 2016. 11:36 am Lynn unlocked the door and pushed it wide open as she stepped into the living room/dining nook of the one bedroom apartment Tona recently vacated; the room was bright and airy, with hardwood floors, white painted walls and a working gas fireplace flanked by built-in bookshelves. Salvaged stained glass windows on the east wall added color and a charming rustic quality. "Okay, so this is the front room; that pillar sort of designates the dining area, but obviously you can use it however you want. There's no central heating or air, but the radiator heat is free and works great, and you've got ceiling fans and an AC unit in the bedroom." Gretchen followed in, pointing out the small flat-screen monitor on the wall near the door. "I've upgraded the security system. Multiple cameras, motion and heat sensors, extra sturdy locks."

Friday, August 26th, 2016 Roberta Isles Garden, Claremont Academy, Bayview 8:01 PM It was the last weekend before school started again. A great time for all those who still wanted to spend a lot of time on Freedom City’s streets to do just so, before the troubles and pains of school would return. Of course, there also was the Kick-Off dance happening at the gym, but not everybody felt like attending that, for one reason or another. Among those deciding to head out was Aleksander Nakani, or, as he was known in costume, Nevermore. In costume was what he was right now. He had been walking towards the garden, it offered a nice and not too obvious exit, preferable to the school’s main entrance in most cases. As he walked, he came by the Zen Garden, currently looking better than it had in a long time, one of the freshmen that had arrived earlier this month had spent a lot of time there. However, as he walked, he noticed something. Something out of the ordinary, something that shouldn’t be as it currently was. The carriage house, something about it was off. As Nevermore moved closer, he realized just what it was. The access to the subbasement. It had been used, broken into. It was not a big trace, only a slight misplacement. But Aleksander had seen these entrances many times, he knew when something was off, even if it only was by an incredibly small amount. While Aleksander was taking a closer look at the entrance, hidden but apparently not hidden enough, it just so happened that Jack Huang Faretti entered through the garden’s entrance up north, quickly spotting Nevermore, in full costume, doing something with the entrance to the subbasement, but from the current distance he could not tell just what the cowl was doing.

The Liberty Dome was situated between Midtown and the Theater District. A large events complex where the city’s major sports teams play. The 80,000-seat stadium also plays host to other sporting events as well as major concerts and shows during the year. It modern and modular and able host something like the high end charity concert (a couple grand for the privilege), as well as have facilities for the after party. It also had a dumb name. Well Amir felt that was the case, it felt so dated, but then he supposed that was better than auctioning off the naming rights every five to ten years. At least the Europeans had that right with their naming conventions for such buildings, sports economics notwithstanding. As per usual he had arrived in high fashion, in his latest acquisition a 1937 Bugatti Type 57SC Atalante, sky blue with white trim. It cost him quite a bit, and he wondered, precisely, how much was the car for himself or the image he had cultivated carefully. He still liked it, however. What he didn't like was this concert, he was here to support the charity, something... he couldn't remember which one as he did so many. He couldn't get away with spending money on one of these things and then disappearing. He'd eat it in the press, and the rumor mill. It didn't help that Agnus was performing. So... here he was, trying to not interact with Agnus, while doing his best to be personable. Fortunately her hair made her easy to track, and adjust his path and everything accordingly, managing to come across extra 'not entirely present' tonight, while simultaneously wishing he could get three sheets to the wind.

Friday, August 26th, 2016 The Athletic Field, Claremont Academy, Bayview 8:14 PM The sun was beginning to set, the Academy’s main building, located to the south catching a last few glimpses of sunlight. Most of the school’s students had returned or arrived already, in preparation of the new school year starting in just three days. Some had also stayed through the break, or arrived earlier, earlier in their summer break. Among the latter group were Jann Fa-Re, Selena Kwon and Alexander Lloydd, all of whom had been at the school for at least a few weeks now. They all got along, so they had been spending time together, and were doing so right now. While many of the students attended the Kick-Off Dance held in the gym, or were out in the streets of Freedom City doing their own thing, these three had decided to take the relative silence this day would offer, with most people doing the best with their last few days of break-time, to work on something. They had planned it, they had acquired the supplies they needed through various ways, and as the sun was now setting, it was time to put the plan into motion. Meanwhile, a few dozen feet to the south, Naomi Suleiman was spending her time inside her room. A dance did not interest her much, so she just was inside her room for now. Suddenly, something caught her attention. Through her window, she saw a group of people, three or so, flying above the athletic field. It was something unusual for a variety of reasons, including the fact almost everybody was currently at the dance.

Friday, August 26th, 2016 Aaron Cage Gymnasium, Claremont Academy, Bayview 8:03 PM The Kick-Off Dance was the first major event of any school year at Claremont Academy. Traditionally it was held on the Friday before the start of the year the next Monday. It was no different this year, and people had flocked to the gym, much to the delight of various students who had spent many hours during their summer break to organize it. Banners were hung alongside the wall. Somebody had actually brought a disco-ball. Along a table on the wall various bowls of punch had been set up, and bar tables with peanuts and chips on them stood scattered around the gym and just outside of it. A stage had been set up too, elevated just slightly, a DJ table slightly off to one side, with the rest of the stage for people that wanted to dance where everyone could see them, or some pre-dance entertainment. A smoke machine was not needed, the DJ, a now-senior student, provided the smoke with his powers. Outside, the sun began to set, while inside the lights had been dimmed, spotlights towards the stage. The entertainment phase had just ended, and the dance was about to start. A new arrival , taller and more muscular than most students, had just left the stage after a short vocal performance, the DJ was currently giving a few final words before switching to music for the rest of the evening. “Okay people, that was Hau Ta … Tayou … just Hau! He’s still looking for bandmates everybody, go talk to him if you’re interested! And now, a short break while somebody fetches a cup of punch for me, they’re free after all, and then it’s gonna be music the rest of the night. I’ve got some good songs planned, so don’t leave anytime soon!”

GM August 15th, 2016, 6.00PM An abandoned subway car, underneath Stark Hill... It was a remarkably pleasant dream that Osla Jonsson was abruptly jerked from. Standing on the half-rusted roof of the car, eyes twnkling as he met the groggy woman's gaze, was a man in furs and leather with red hair that flickered and shifted like fire underwater. "Osla. Dearest debtor." His voice, as usual, was full of a childish self-satisfaction at talking down to someone who could never hurt him. It was, admittedly, a rare thing for the nominally-bound trickster. He began to pace the roof, his illusory booted feet making no sound "I have decided not to wait, as I'd at first expected. An opportunity has presented itself already." He grinned down at the archer "You are going to attack a superhero tonight. Not directly," he frowned and his pacing grew more rapid "Your victim is none other than that most valiant and stalwart champion of unalloyed justice, the Hammer Thereof. I have no wish to lose such a valuable fish, so this battle while certain to rattle will serve you danger's most minutest dish." "He has a safehouse for some weapons and sensitive information that he cannot trust to Stark Hill." As he spoke, the man took out his dagger and began idly scratching at the wall with it "You are to go to it and destroy everything in it. How hardly matters to me, though a little self-preservation and restraint never hurt anyone. All I care about is that it is done, and done tonight." "That's all. Be a good girl and don't die. I could never keep a straight face in front of your father if I had to tell him." With a snicker, the man was gone. But the scratches on the wall remained. Garf-Stav corner. Remember, a Hammer falls...

August 21, 2016. Northwestern Outskirts of Freedom City. Jameson Airport Lounge. 8:00 AM. Her name was Inari Jefferson. She was about 5’ 5”, African American, and held a Doctorate in Archaeology. She was waiting. Their benefactor’s (for lack of a better word) plane wasn’t set to leave for the better part of an hour. Inari was already packed. In fact, her luggage was on the Learjet already. Everything but her regular gear, which was on her. The compound bow and quiver were on her back, and the climbing axe was on her hip. She was waiting for who would basically be her four assistants on this trip. Though, with that said, they were professional superheroes. She couldn’t boss them around like they were undergrads. Her normal place of employment was FCU, but for this trip she was on a short sabbatical. Inari was at the bar, nursing a club soda. Hopefully this trip would go well. Inari had only gotten this job because she was just about the most famous archaeologist on the planet. That didn’t matter too much to anyone outside of archaeological circles, though. It didn’t seem to be important that her discoveries came at cost of up to half her field team. She simply had a knack for finding what either really didn’t want to be found or that someone with a lot of money and thugpower didn’t want to be found. It had only been three times (okay, four, but she was barely a HS grad back then) over a period of 12 years. All it had been was simply survival, nothing more. Better fighters, better archaeologists, and overall better people had died. She hadn’t. That was all there was to it. Still, it was nice to be wanted.

August 19, 2016. Freedom City. The Waterfront. The Abandoned Warehouse. Yes, That One. 11:00 PM. It had taken a great deal of research and effort to get to this point. Over a month of work, which was quite a bit for the supergenius heroine known as Terrifica. Still, now she knew exactly what needed to be done. She had posted a need for superheroic assistance on Capeslist, and two had bitten, filling the Thief and Grifter archetypes (phrased in a way that would decidedly not set off red flags across law enforcement and superheroic systems, of course). That wasn’t all they could do, naturally, but it was what she was looking for. Time had run out and she could wait no longer for responses to the Hitter and Hacker requests. However, she had sent a message to Miracle Girl, who would suffice for the former and Terrifica herself would quite suffice for the latter. Now it was a simply matter of time until everyone arrived. Terrifica had arranged a table and five chairs for the occasion, just in case a Hacker decided to show up at the last minute. The last batch of criminals to use this place were currently in jail. And of course, Terrifica herself waited in the shadows. She was no fool. She would only reveal herself when everyone had arrived. Any second now, someone should be arriving.

Ellis sat in a khaki shorts and a sage polo sipping his iced coffee on the warm summer afternoon. The call for this 'friendly coffee' hadn't been exactly a surprise but Ellis none the less was uncertain what exactly to expect of Carson. He supposed there was always the chance that it would be some sitcom overprotective male act but he somehow didn't see Stesha standing for that kind of posturing on her behalf as well intentioned as it might be. Most likely it was another in a long list of friends that had seen her hurt before and was worried their exceptionally nascent romance might do so again. He had resolved however to meet the man regardless of purpose it couldn't be worse than the dismissive sneers the dragon woman aimed his direction most times.

GM July 5th, Tuesday, 3.45PM, 2016 4027 Tower St., Emerald City, WA, USA Downtown on the Emerald City riverfront was like being in another world. Voices and faces from dozens of other countries filled the streets, the sharp sea breeze lent a salty tang to the smells of streetside vendors selling the cuisine from dozens more and the sleek, pristine skyscrapers rearing above bore the richest names on Earth in at least ten languages. In particular was the soaring crystal-green Emerald Tower, the corporate center of world-famous MarsTech, one of the several new corporations in the super-technology industry and already a household name. The Tower was the hub for its own micro-universe, the eye of a financial, legal and technological hurricane, a block in each cardinal direction devoted to its needs and those of its sky-dwelling inhabitants. Public involvement with superhumans was considered passé, a kind of cheating, so there was little surprise when Prof. Erasmus Bolt was contacted about one of his newest inventions and invited to a meeting with the head of MarsTech, the flamboyant and vibrant plutocract Maximilian Mars. Although he has made a name for himself as someone with the city's best interests at heart, nobody doubts that Mars is chiefly concerned with Number One. For whatever reason, Erasmus had not yet entered the Tower. "Bolt!" A harsh, cold voice hissed from behind him, which turned out to hail from a very dour-looking man cloistered in a pitch-black limosuine, a rarity in downtown Emerald which prides itself on its mass-transit system. The man glared out at Bolt, then up at the Emerald Tower "Come to see Mars, hn? When you're done, come see me. I'm Kessler, Arwin Kessler, KessKorp. Unlike Mars, I won't lie to you. My card." Thrusting his lean hand out with a well-produced rectangle of laminated plastic pinched between thumb and forefinger, Kessler waited with an air of impatience for Bolt to take it.

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

GM 4:00 PM, August 3rd. Ross Haywood had seen better days, but he’d seen worse ones too. The mark of those darker times was still on him. He was underweight for his considerable height, and a spider angioma extended its tendrils along the right side of his neck and the base of his chin, harsh purple-red against the soft brown of his skin. But he was walking more steadily than he used to, and the shaking of his hands was so slight that it was hardly noticeable. Smiling at the thought, he patted the little iron crucifix he carried in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. Twelve steps had seemed an awful long way a year ago, but he’d walked them. That kind, honest smile faded as he remembered his purpose. He’d worn his best suit, secondhand and faded but still possessed of a reserved elegance, in the hopes of gaining an air of respectability. Maybe it was stupid to think of hiring a PI as an occasion, but Ross had been turned down in enough interviews to know that first impressions mattered in any deal. One hand in his pocket, he ran his fingertips across his daughter’s picture and said a little prayer in the back of his mind. He was running out of options, and out of time to make this right. They said that Xavier Steadman was honest. In a town like Bedlam, that was either said derisively or with a vague sense of awe. Ross clung onto the hope that it was true like a drowning man to the edge of a raft. He didn’t have much, but he had learned the hard way what really mattered in life, and he would spend every penny he’d ever scraped together for this if he had to. He’d walked several miles to Steadman’s building; it’d been a long time since he’d been able to afford a car, the buses were dismal, and it would crush his soul to be one taxi fare short of whatever price the PI named. As the building loomed up before him, he took a deep, steadying breath that came out shakier than he’d meant to let it. “Okay, Susie,” he whispered, his voice a deep, rich baritone. “Here we go.” Reaching the office door, he forced one trembling hand to knock.

Monday, August 11, 2016 Emerald City, Oregon The long, ragged line of passengers spilled out of the jet liner, six hours of flight time taking their toll on legs and patience and attention. Tona Baudin did her best to keep her face together until she was able to get away from the crowd. She stood alone by herself for long minutes, focusing on her breathing and her thudding heart. Flying through the air -- such an impossible thing that people here handled so blandly! -- always got to her, and crowds always got to her, and the two together for so long left her feeling twitchy and breathless. For now she was just happy to be on the ground. In time she followed the signs and the crowds out to the main terminal of Benjamin Jacobs International airport and towards the luggage carousel. That, at least, was easy for her. No one else had brought along a bright orange hiking pack with a solid bow case webbed onto the side. No one else could probably heft it one-handed like she did, either, which earned her plenty of empty room when she swung it onto her back. Out on the street, Tona briefly wondered how she was supposed to go about hiring a taxi cab before she saw the big man with her name on a sign. He was broad-shouldered, with greying hair and a powerful, wearing the sort of brightly patterned tourist shirt the archer previously thought only existed in movies. He waved at her, pointing at a black SUV. "Antoinette Bawd-in, is that right? Glad as hell to meet ya, girl!"

August 1, 2016 It was Puppet Day - and things were a mess. Despite the public service announcement by Johnny Rocket and Dr. Metropolis (the latter six inches tall and made of hovering brown and green felt) that the Freedom League was on the case, the mass transformation of close to a third of Freedom City's population (especially its superhumans) was causing chaos all over the city. There was plenty for heroes to do, large and small. - The Dakanan Consulate For all their substantial superpowers, Edge and Monsoon had been pressed into service for the moment as child-minders - an assembly of children between the ages of one and six, the dozen or so children having drawn an unlucky straw and had two parents turn into puppets. Though neither Mark or Nina had much experience with childcare, they had quickly moved into action. Mark kept bags of snacks and bottles of milk and juice full, while Nina's stories kept older children occupied. Those that weren't playing iPads, anyway. Freedom City kids were resilient. "And then, all the world was transformed into a strange medieval society! I myself became a marid, daughter of the king of the seas, wedded to a handsome prince from the jinn kingdoms! Only our friends-" "Are you and Mr. Mark married in real life?" asked one small girl with a head full of blonde curls and a curious expression on her face. "Ah, no, but-" "But he said you two live in the same house!" asked one little boy of about the same age. "Are you two brother and sister?" "No! But we will be married soon! Now, children, back to the tale..."

July 30th, 2016 ASTRO Labs, Freedom City Lunchtime Downtown Freedom City was busy every single day. No matter what else was going on, the streets were crowded with pedestrians and cars, the weekend just meant the people were of a different flavor. The soaring towers of ASTRO Labs looked down on. Happy families and trendy teenagers thronged the streets, moving from place to place and interspersed with groups of tourists eager to experience the City of Heroes. A large group of elderly Asians with cameras around their necks lined up in front of the skyscraper, a young woman in a red pantsuit in their lead. The woman held a folded map in the air and started talking. "This is the headquarters of ASTRO Labs," she said, her voice projecting above the noise of traffic. "A world leader in scientific R&D, ASTRO Labs is proud to help Freedom City's hero population whenever a mystery is in their path!" Near the back of the group, a man in a trenchcoat lurked underneath a young tree. He chuckled when he heard to guide's pithy summation. Pretty soon ASTRO Labs was going to feel the burn from helping so many heroes.

Unit 47-42 Coalition Victory Station, Kestevan 79 Almost every place where starfaring races gathered you’d find a bar like this tucked away where only those in the know would find it. Not the brawl ridden bars where crew who’s spent day or weeks in space could go to let off a little steam but somewhere where those who were a little different could find some company, if not there own species than someone who could understand. Bipedal Carbon based sapients may be the norm, and just as many theories why they did, but others sentients were out there and many liked to gather to share gossip and find company with a drink of something equivalent to alcohol, and for that many went to places like 47-42. Tucked away in the lower depths of the station the bar was a pretty non descript place,easy to miss if you didn’t know of it’s existence, and almost as plain on the inside consisting of just reconfigurable benches and chairs around rather basic holo tables. The bar with similarly rather basic the only bartender being a retired medical droid, 4T-RN, who could tell which drink each customers could safely drink without harming themselves. The only entertainment was a band who only seemed to know one song, but they played it with some gusto. The place was almost totally unknown to the dominant species of the station, not that the few that knew of the place was unwelcome.

Downtown Emerald City, Oregon 10 am PDT, 1st August 2016 Emerald City the little city that could a glittering beacon of new opportunities as it embraced the future head on. And whilst it was no Freedom City it even had a few of it’s own superheroes a sign to many that a city had finally made it to the big leagues. But it wasn’t just the law abiding that were drawn to Emerald City, many criminal sorts were also drawn to the city. After all there were so few heroes and so many chances to make you fortune, why not try to make your fortune the easy way. Such was obviously the case for the guy sat in the car idling outside of Emerald Cities First National, he and his fellows were out to make a unofficial withdrawn. Unfortunately for him he’d attracted the attention of Emerald Cities heroes.

Rhekgar gazed across the bone-scattered plain at his opponent, ash-gray eyes narrowed against the pale red glare of Urth's dying sun. A slight breeze, little more than a weak exhalation of wind, shook the dust from his tangled mane. Never, not once in all his years of wandering had the barbarian seen such a man as this. He stood tall, armored from head to foot in beetle-black carapace, his face obscured by a fearsome mask. A cape of blood-red crimson hung from the man's shoulders; a fortune in cloth, a king's ransom in dye. The fabric alone would buy the barbarian a lifetime of comforts and the armor, he thought, was a prize beyond price. He adjusted his grip on the haft of his club, calloused fingers finding purchase on the well-worn hardwood. He raised his truncheon so that the heavy, iron-shod head glinted cruelly in the sun and light danced like a flame along the knobs. “By the horns of Tauran,” he boasted. “Prepare yourself for battle, Dark One! Today you face Rhekgar, heir to the throne of Eagland-of-Old!” There was a sizzling flash of scintillating energy and his club, his father's club, was forced from his grasp to spin through the air and land ignominiously in the dirt. Rhekgar stared, aghast, at his armored foe. “Sorcery,” he breathed, his blood boiling. “Coward!” he shouted. “Fight me like a man!” His muscles tensed for battle and he crouched, preparing to dart for the mace. The other man, corpse-like in his silence, raised a hand; the barbarian's brow furrowed as he saw magic coalesce in his enemy's palm. The warrior leaped, hands outstretched to grab his weapon, but the bolt of energy struck him in the ribs. His body numbed, his vision blurred, and Rhekgar of Old Eagland wheezed like a leper on the ground. === The armored man strode forward, cape flapping behind him like a flag, until he stood triumphantly over the prostrate body of the defeated barbarian. He posed for a moment, hands on hips, and then looked into the camera. “I have beaten your hero,” he said, his voice a hissing growl. “If you want him back alive you will do exactly as I say. Bring ten million dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills to the following address...” The screen dissolved into static and then went dead as Colonel Chalmers (an agent of AEGIS's increasingly-labyrinthine bureaucratic division) pressed a button on the remote. He turned to the assembled group of protagonists with a look of annoyance writ large across his craggy face, which resembled that of a particularly grumpy bulldog – if perhaps not so friendly-looking. “This is the third one this week,” he grumbled. “All three of the 'victims' are the main characters of major, blockbuster film franchises – each one poised for a summer release. At first we thought he was kidnapping actors, but local police looked into it and they're all okay. Confused, but okay. So then we assumed that it was just some weird hoax; a bit of artfully edited video sent to the producers to spook them. But the footage of the characters is new, and when they tried to shoot more scenes it didn't work. The directors directed, the actors acted, the best boys best boyed their friggin' hearts out but the characters didn't show up on film. They're missing, and this weirdo has them… somehow.” He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “So, that's why you're here.” He turned to each member of the strange group and spoke to them one at a time to facilitate the obligatory, plot-essential introductions. “Adept,” he said. “You're an agent of AEGIS, a decorated veteran of countless engagements, all of which you've handled with unfailing professionalism in spite of the weirdness that you deal with.” He looked to Doctor Deoxy and nodded. “Doctor, you were recommended in the hopes that your technological expertise – and pure brainpower – will be useful in countering whatever weird science this madman is using to abduct people who aren't even real.” He turned, then, to Aquaria and shuffled his feet. Although a native of Earth, the girl was still so alien. “Sea Devil, you've been working a long time to clear the black mark from your record. You've done good, and we've asked you for your help in the hopes that you'll continue doing good.” Finally he looked to Miracle Girl, who was a breath of fresh air in a room so otherwise dominated by the strange. “And, last but not least, the organization feels that your balanced power-set will help shore up whatever deficiencies may or may not exist in the team dynamic.” The fact that the young woman's father was also an agent of AEGIS didn't hurt either, but that was largely incidental. He shook his head. “Right, so: despite the very unusual circumstances, this is a kidnapping we're dealing with and these… people need help getting back to, ah, wherever it is they come from.” He reached down to the table and opened a folder to display its contents to the group. “This is the drop-off point specified by the kidnapper. His terms were pretty simple: the studios deliver the money and he frees his hostages so they can go back to making movies. Thirty million dollars total for a bunch of fictional characters. What's weirder, though, is that this address belongs to an everyday run-of-the-mill electronics outlet in Millennium Mall, and he specifies that the exchange is to be made at the rear of the store, by the television display.” He glanced up at Adept. “It kind of makes you nostalgic for when the whack-jobs did their business in dark alleys, huh?” He sighed. “Okay, then. I'm sure that you all have questions – I know that I do – so let's hear them. We're running out of time, though, so make it quick.”

GM 12:45 PM. April 4th Judge Harold (call me Harry) Steinman, was walking amongst the throngs of people that were making their way across the street. It was lunch, and currently he was without a security detail, while a lower circuit federal court judge, he dealt mostly with white collar crime. Though a couple years ago he had been involved as an ADA out of Boston involved with investigations of several organized crime families. As of right now that wasn't what he was working over, he was debating whether he should be trying to vy for a position further up the judicial latter. However, those previous affairs were the things that were not forgotten, they cast a shadow over his way that he didn't know was there. He stopped still in his step midway through the street. And he started to say something, or tried to, words failed, they came out wrong, a hand reaching out and groping towards people. Before he fell forward, his head hitting the broad white walk lane, as his body twisted and spasmed. Before he lost coherence there was a small confirmation amidst the fading synapses as to why this was happening, and who was behind it. Onlookers rushed towards him, assuming correctly that something was wrong. When the ambulance arrived Judge Harold Steinman was dead. It would be labelled a stroke. 1:37 AM April 8th The scream would wake them, four people across town, and immediately recognize it for what it was. Either from an earlier scream, or weeks that bled to what felt like months of people inside other's heads. It was a personal sound of pain that was still raw to Paige. They all could identify it. It gave a location. A currently unused section of a high rise building in the city center. Not terribly far from the Federal building. The worst part was the sense of the presence of the mind trailing off into digitized incoherence like white noise and static when a signal goes out. A feeling some might recognize as the sublimation of identity. Possibly even the death of personality.

CN: Date: Late July, 2016 Location: The Beach, Port Regal The Atlantic might be colder than the sea that Leilani had grown up loving, but the waves held a familiar rhythm and even if the sand was darker, the beach more rocky, working it with Kimo held a certain strange familiarity. It wasn't home - not quite - but it wasn't utterly foreign either. Which, perhaps, made it an appropriate place for a not-quite impromptu celebration of sorts. At least, with having begun to shift her things out of the League headquarters and into the Dutemps building, Leilani had accepted and acknowledged that while her powers remained concerning, they weren't actually out of her control. Her good-natured nephew (Leilani couldn't call him her great-nephew still with a straight face) had been all for an evening of surfing and beach barbecue, not to mention meeting more of the super-hero community and the off-hand invitation had been extended towards the rest of those calling the castle home. Leilani had traded her life-guard swimsuit for an off duty alternate. With a sarong knotted around her waist, she set about setting up the wood with the intent of setting up a proper bon-fire, pausing to wave over the guests she recognized when they arrived. "Kimo, watch yourself, yeah? Gonna put up some bumpers," she paused in her building of the small wood tower to gesture, mounding up the sand and rock to form larger banks to provide at least a little bit of visual privacy from the rest of the stretch of the beach. "Remind me to put that back afterwards." Leilani added in a mutter as she returned her attention to stacking wood.

GM August 3rd, 2016, 2.44 PM Freedom City South River Waterfront The last of the Magmin dropped, hissing, back into the water, lumbering into the blazing hole into Sub-Terra from whence the bizarre semi-molten invaders came. A ragged cheer rang from the very terrified and now very relieved crew of the Chang Ping Xian, who had crowded onto the half of the freight ship that wasn't submerged and partially wedged into the cavern. "Thank you, thank you!" Captain Wong hollered up to the two superheroes, bobbing on his half-melted cargo container and looking much the worse for wear from the brief, fiery and watery battle. Plucking his charred hat from the water, the lean captain added hopefully "I do not mean to impose, but would you please help get my crew to shore? Those things, well, they burned all the lifeboats." Meanwhile, the large motorboat festooned with its quasi-religious banners had stopped holding off thanks to the giant waves and the rock and fire being flung around. This much closer, it quickly became obvious that several of the banners had a similar 'pinnacle' shape to that of the self-help quasi-cult of the Pinnacle Path. The bits about "Hail the New Gods!" and "Lead us to the Heavenly Spire" was new.

Content Notices: Violence, Birth Scene Location: Espadas School of Self Defense and Swordsmanship! Date: July 19, 2016 Talya was very good at suppressing the potential consequences for her actions. Leaping off buildings, after all, was much easier if one didn't think about what missing a handhold might mean. Unfortunately, ignoring the eventual ramifications of the biology of how a baby (or two. Two!) would enter the world did not actually prevent the event. The cramps and back ache had only gotten worse despite her refusal to acknowledge that it might not just be late term pregnancy aches and pains. Although, she'd not admitted (and likely never would), it was fairly clear to those closest to Talya that the ex-spy was at least unsettled by the impending birth. Perhaps even frightened. At the moment, though, she was mostly just holding up the relocation to Sanctuary as if not stepping through the portal might some how prevent the next several hours. "I've changed my mind," Talya announced mulishly, her arms crossed over her chest. "Perhaps I could just be unconscious for the entire thing, after all. They still do that, don't they? If we went to the hospital instead, could they just knock me out?" Unlikely to say the least with her magical ability to shake off most things mundane and Talya's mystical biology did not often play well with other magics. Intellectually, she knew that but at the moment, logic was not high on the spy's list. "I'd bounce right back from a c-section. Probably. Almost certainly."

Tuesday July 12th 2016 The Streets at Midtown Mostly sunny, 84F The sun shone down on the crowds taking advantage of the mild summer day to explore the pedestrian byways of the upscale 'Streets of Midtown' and it's fine bistros and boutiques. While 'The Streets' were certainly over budget for Leilani they did offer the benefit of being much more open and less crowded than the more populist Millennium Mall, and Kimber knew just the person to bring along to assuage any budgetary concerns. As the troupe made their way from one shop to the next they could enjoy the dappling of the sun along the tree lined walks, the fragrance of floral vines on the decorative arbors spaced along the brick paths. The noise of the city was dulled by the architecture and landscaping giving the shops a peaceful suburban feel in the middle of hte towering skyscrapers and busy streets outside the plazas and paths. The otherwise Idyllic environs made the faint but persistent buzz almost felt more than heard all the more unsettling as it slowly came to the attention of our heroines.