Search the Community

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

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

Monday, March 10, 2014 4:00 PM It was always a good day when Gideon got to go grocery shopping. It sounded silly, but it was kinda the highlight of the week. He got to go smell real food and then actually eat some. After taking Professor Steele out for lunch he'd had to fall back on emergency kibble for a couple of meals, but after a couple of long nights of work he was back on budget and could afford ramen noodles and lentils again. Plus, the Bayview branch of Harvest Market always had free samples in the bakery, meaning he could taste something else for once. This Harvest Market was one of the bigger ones in Freedom City, a tall warehouse-like building that took up most of a city block. Gideon took a little time and made an event of his visit, salivating over the chocolate-covered raisins and fresh salmon, collecting all of the samples from the deli and the bakery, enjoying the warmth of the store. It'd warmed up a bit outside, mostly sunny with a high of 42, but the forecast said he might be taking calls in the freezing rain that night. Better soak up the comfort while he could. His stitches still hurt. God knew he needed a break; he'd only been Mindsteel for a week and was already twice as exhausted as usual. He'd cleverly concealed his costume inside his crummy apartment with a bit of loose carpet and an unsecured floorboard; he would put a couch over it, or something, but he didn't own any furniture except his dresser, sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor. No, it was good to get out and just be normal again, doing normal person things in a normal person place. Of course, fate has a way of interfering. There's a saying about the best-laid plans...

OOC thread for Well, This Is Awkward.

GM Claremont Academy, garden paths September 16th, Monday, 10.15AM The brief, terse letter each of the teen heroes had been given after morning classes led them there at the crossroads, to wait for a meeting with the dour Edme Dupont, one of the rotating Ethics and Superhuman Law teachers who had an uncanny gift for knowing exactly what topics to emphasize for maximum effect. 'Student,' they ran 'you and four others have been selected for the chance to perform an extracurricular exercise. I and the others faculty hope this encourages team-building spirit and your abilities to work in tandem. Assemble at the garden path juncture before 10.20AM, I will meet you there if you wish to attempt it' Under the bright morning sun, the fog banks were quickly evaporating, but the ones still drifting over the city gave the dew-speckled lawns and crisp buildings a strangely lovely quality. The air was beginning to heat up in anticipation of the day to come.

Out of character thread for