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July 11, 2018 7:26 AM With venerable trees reaching out to provide shade over sidewalks and expensive landscaping framing driveways Kingston had been one of the greener neighbourhoods of the city proper. Now all of that was simply more tinder for the fires indiscriminately gutting once proud estates and nouveau riche concept homes. Even as the sun rose of the second day of the Annihilist occupation its light was choked off by plumes of smoke, leaving the streets cast in flickering reds and oranges. That ominous light would have still been preferable to the deep crimson pocked with dark spots rising from the crumbling remains of one of the larger homes. With violent thumping impacts a Terminus machine the size of a city bus turned on its end dug deep into the foundation while gangly metal arms long enough to reach across the street's cracked pavements ripped free chunks of brick and metal and glass and stone to construct something unseen. The unearthly energy lashed out in unpredictable directions like tap water diffused over the back of a spoon, causing small explosions anywhere it stuck something solid. Meanwhile Omegadrones with wickedly barbed pikes were gathering another sort of raw materials: dozens of people, beaten and bloody, being marched single file toward the terrible pit.

Freedom City, New Jersey June 20, 2017 Afternoon The man at the big board tapped a button on his control console and spoke into his microphone; on the other side of the soundproofed glass his voice was the only thing that could be heard. "Could we get a sound check, Asli? Just need to check some levels." Asli Saddik stepped up to the mic hanging in the middle of the chamber and licked her lips, leaning in close. "Check check Cyril, one two three four. Seven sniping snakes slipped and slithered up sinuous stairs while Sally and Susy sang stucco shanties. Kill Craig's cat and cripple Katy's kibble caboose. Tip toe and take two tables to taste Tali's tippled tacos." She stepped back and stretched, long arms almost reaching the top of the recording studio. "Those levels look good, Cyril? I don't want to be futzing with equipment all day." Cyril tweaked some knobs and bobbed his head as jerking lines on the screen leveled and smoothed out. "Looks good on our end. Ready to start when you are." He looked reached his hand out to a particular button and then paused, looking over at the other man seated at the big table. Joe Macayle wasn't a regular feature at the Stone Soup recording booth but at least he was smart enough not to touch any of the intimidating array of sliders and knobs on the board that seemed to stretch for a city block. Cyril caught his eye and gave him a mischievous wink. "Ready to see the magic happen?"

For rolls and suchlike, @trollthumper. Speaking of which. Results 10#1d20: 10 # 19 [1d20=19] 16 [1d20=16] 7 [1d20=7] 10 [1d20=10] 3 [1d20=3] 1 [1d20=1] 3 [1d20=3] 16 [1d20=16] 7 [1d20=7] 1 [1d20=1]  Copy pasta: link bbcode

January 20, 2017 Port Regal "It's beautiful," said Mark, peering at the image Nina had found. "I love the lacework on the veil - and you've always looked good in white." Perhaps white wasn't the traditional color under the circumstances - but when he'd mentioned that the other day Nina had not been terribly happy with him. "I'll take you over as soon as we're done talking to everyone." Sitting next to his fiancee on their living room couch, he tried to keep his stomach from lurching with excitement as he remembered the purpose of the planned conversation. He'd kept Nina's secret because he loved her, but it had made January one of the hardest months of his life. "It's fine enough," agreed Nina, tabbing over to the page for her personal notebook.. Looking at the dresses had been Mark's idea - having found a satisfactory one, she'd already moved to the next step. "After I wear it, I can donate it to the Women's Center - Malikah's getting married this summer and she can alter it as she sees fit." The dress would do for their civic service in Freedom City in a month. For the wedding to come in Socotra's Great Mosque, when she would be her father's...overthrower, she would need something much more elaborate than this. Mark gave no sign that he followed Nina's thoughts, instead kissing her on the cheek and rising to his feet. "Okay, it's 10:30...I should start the frittata so it'll be ready when they get here." Only an hour and a half left! Mark and Nina lived in a gated seaside development - just the place for two Freedom City residents who had wanted a house and Mark headed into the kitchen. "Everything will be okay," he said aloud, stepping around the bookcase and firing up the oven. "We'll have them over, we'll feed them, we'll tell them we're getting married in February because we're going to have a baby. It'll be a surprise - but everything will be great."

Liberty Park Sunday, December 11, 2016 9:23 PM Somedays, Cannonade wondered what it had to be like to work in Animal Control in this town. It had been one of the weirdest "track downs" he'd ever had. Sometimes, on patrol, he'd run into a cop who wanted to flag him down over something weird, usually related to the Crusaders. Other times, Commander Grayston of AEGIS might track him down, wanting to send him off to God knows where to handle some new interesting wrinkle in geopolitics. This time, however, he'd touched down in the Fens to get some coffee at the Dunkin Donuts, only to be flagged down by a woman with blue hair and the uniform of an Animal Control officer. "It was a jogger," she'd said. "She'd been running through the park, said she was passing by Poet's Grove when they appeared. Dogs. Three of them, black as night. One of them did a real number on her arm, but she was carrying pepper spray and managed to drive them off." "And if you're talking to me, I'm guessing they can't actually be dogs." "Given this town, they could be, but... we checked where she was attacked. No sign of spoor, paw prints, droppings, anything. And her description... it may have been dark and she may have been scared, but they didn't resemble any dog we know. Maybe Mastiffs, at an outside stretch, but... Mastiffs aren't usually that dark in coloration. And then there was the other thing..." "What other thing?" "She said they came running out from behind a hedge. But that part of Poet's Grove is completely clear cut." And so, Cannonade ventured off into a dark stretch of an already dark park, feeling the shadows loom. The air felt crisp and cool, and he could smell pine on the air. No dog, though, wet or otherwise. But he had a feeling that, given this town, that wasn't going to hold for long.

June 25, 2016 Joe Macayle's Apartment Dinnertime It was night. If a writer was going to make something dramatic happen, it would have been dark and stormy and rain-washed, but in fact there had just been a light rain this afternoon and now high, ragged clouds were rapidly speeding out to the sea. The evening was proving to be quiet, and pleasant, and Asli was infinitely grateful. A quiet night meant she could enjoy more time with her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s cooking. She put her utensils on her plate and pushed away from the table, sighing in contentment. “That was the best meal I’ve eaten all week,” she said. “If you always cook meals like that, I’m going to start spending the night.” Asli smiled across the table at him, enjoying the moment of quiet domesticity. It was a very different experience than she usually had at the end of the day, and she liked it. She could see herself getting used to it.

Wednesday April 27, 2016 Washington, DC AEGIS Headquarters The AEGIS headquarters in Washington, DC is not where most of the field agents are posted - the single largest AEGIS facility is located in Freedom City. This building, one of dozens of other square glass boxtowers built along the Anacostia River, is a place of bureaucrats; payroll clerks and human resources types, archivists and pension planners, the thousands of other workers whose unglamorous jobs keep the glamorous agents of AEGIS fed, happy, and well-paid. The MAX Armor agents kept on staff here are there mostly to deal with supervillains whose research for major super-battles consists of Googling "AEGIS Headquarters." With a heavy BOOM, the last of the MAX agents hit the parking lot asphalt, the sound of impact soon drowned out by the cataclysmic storm overhead. As millions of fist-sized hailstones rain down on AEGIS, tough windows cracking but not shattering, as lightning splits the sky overhead, a voice breaks the heavens, carried by the thunder itself. Although it seems to crack the air above AEGIS headquarters, it echoes across the city, reflected by nearly every surface in an intimidating feat of acoustics. "LADIES. GENTLEMEN. HERE WE ARE, AT THE HEART OF THE CANCER THAT CALLS ITSELF 'POLITICS.' FOR TOO LONG, YOU HAVE DEFIED THE WILL OF THE EARTH! YOU HAVE CRAFTED LAWS THAT ENABLE AND SHELTER THOSE WHO SPILL POISON UPON THE LAND AND THE SEA! YOU HAVE SHELTERED THOSE WHO IMPRISON AND TORTURE THEIR FELLOW CREATURES, DOING NOTHING AS THESE BUTCHERS CONDUCT A BLOOD-STAINED CAMPAIGN ENDING IN THE DEVOURING OF FLESH! YOU WASTE YOUR TIME WITH SENTIMENT AS PEOPLE ARE ENCOURAGED TO WASTE THE SEED AND THE EGG, DENYING THE CREATION OF NEW LIFE! THE STORM WILL COME TO SWEEP AWAY ALL YOU PERVERTS, POLLUTERS, AND OTHER FILTH - AND I AM THE STORM! WHEN THE HARD RAIN FALLS UPON YOU, YOU WILL KNOW YOU HAVE A CHOICE TO MAKE. REPENT YOUR SINS... OR BE WASHED AWAY."

For rolls and suchlike pertaining to this adventure.

September 5, 2015 Fort Meade, Maryland Supervillains were attacking Fort Meade. Well, not supervillains exactly. It had started out as a typical enough Saturday for the large military base close to Washington, DC; crowds of tourists at the National Cryptologic Museum and the Fort George Meade Museum, the Washington crowd taking advantage of Labor Day Weekend for one last hurrah. What followed next made its way onto the Internet quickly in one of those videos that goes viral the moment it hits Youtube. First, the golden gate had opened just across the street from the museum and a small group of costumed individuals had emerged - Argonaut, the armored AEGIS agent, Cannonade, the blue-collar brawler, Miss Americana, the patriotic paragon, and Vigilant, the all-American action hero. As the gate closed behind them, they ran, flew, and leaped across the street towards the museum, Cannonade casually sweeping aside a uniformed MP who (sensing trouble) had tried to block their way into the Museum. "F*cking typical!" he was heard to declare as they made their way in. "A world we didn't take over and it's already falling apart at the seams." Once inside, Miss Americana declared, "I'll get the missile! The rest of you get these wimpy bastards out of here and guard the perimeter. And get rid of all this trash!" The crowd, mostly civilians, didn't need any encouragement to run from the rampaging superheroes; a photographer outside caught Vigilant hurling a Mark VIII Liberty tank right through the museum wall with a tremendous crash! Whatever missile Miss Americana was after, she evidently found it - while the other 'heroes' took up position outside the museum, Miss A could be seen working on the preserved Ajax missile inside. It was Argonaut who dealt with the first wave of security, laughter coming from behind her armored faceplate as she cut her way through Jeeps, casually battering aside the MPS who arrived in them with cruel efficiency. "It's a bad time to be a bastard, kids! Sleeping in boxes and eating field rations for the past twelve months has built up a lot of negative energy in me, Miss A!" She called out, evidently over her suit's radio. "Treating these dirtbags to a little eye-gouging and back-breaking for a few minutes might be just the kind of cathartic exercise I was looking for!" For his part, Vigilant lived up to his name, taking up position on the roof and keeping stern watch on the surrounding base neighborhood even as chaos ensued all around them - Argonaut and Cannonade casually rampaging in the streets, sirens and gunfire ringing out, and panicking civilians being hastily evacuated away by the troops still standing who had not tried to directly engage Argonaut or Cannonade. "Attention, everyone!" he finally declared, using a voice amplifier. "This building is now the property of the Vigilance Committee! We are the baddest of the bad on this planet and several others you've never been to. Every once in a while we have to prove that to stupid people like yourself. Once we're done with the missile, we'll leave you to rot in your petty little world! Now, leave us alone...before we stop playing NICE."

Gina's Gather Info (repped through Computers) is sufficient to tell whatever the players are comfortable with you knowing about their characters. (maxing out the relevant rep tables) So she knows Vigilant is a patriotic hero whose daughter is a Claremont student named Miracle Girl, she knows Argonaut's story pretty well already, and everything that's public about Cannonade. So far the group at the museum in Fort Meade hasn't made any demands of the base commander or the US government, despite being within just a few blocks of CIA Headquarters. They have made some very public demonstrations of power, violently crushing several attempts by light armor and commando personnel to drive them out of their position. They've taken no prisoners and no hostages, but they've made sure everyone nearby has fled the area or gone into one of several secure shelters. "Miss Americana" is working on a defunct Atlas missile stored at the base museum, but Gina can't imagine what that would accomplish - Atlas missiles are long since retired and there's nothing dangerous in a museum piece anyway!

Thursday November 26, 2015 (Thanksgiving) Silberman's Books Sam cursed fluently under her breath as she tried to shuffle the Tupperware container full of stuffing from one arm to the other in order to free up a hand, without losing her grip on the bakery-bought pumpkin pie. After a moment of precarious positioning she gave up, and with a surreptitious glance around her, summoned a small tendril of shadow which obligingly held the pie for her, allowing her to unlock the door and enter the store. For the first time in her life, she had found herself in surprisingly high demand as a dinner guest. Both her employer Lynn and her roommate Asli had made plans involving her and Thanksgiving dinner, and since this didn't exactly happen to her too often, she hadn't wanted to disappoint either party, resulting in the plans being merged. Asli's apartment was far too small to host several people plus a large dinner, so they were congregating at Lynn's place instead. Asli was with her, of course, and had mentioned inviting someone else that Sam hadn't herself met. The whole thing was creating a decidedly surreal atmosphere for Sam, who had spent all of her previous thanksgivings either nibbling halfheartedly on a turkey dog or high as a kite. Celebrating the occasion by sitting down to an actual feast with her peers was a new experience for her, but she was determined not to show it. She pushed through the door, transferring the pie from the tendril of darkness - which vanished instantly - to her hand. "Hello? We're here!"

Saturday, September 26th, 2015 5:49 PM Joe stood across the street, looking at the restaurant, wondering if he was even doing this right. It wasn't like he hadn't been on dates. He'd had a few - more than a few - relationships. It was just that things were... busy, for the most part. And he tended to throw himself into his work. And his hobbies. Especially his hobbies. Said hobbies including going out at night and dealing with assholes. This was not the kind of thing that contributed to long-lasting, solid relationships. Erin had been the first to suggest looking for someone within the community. That had been a good idea, but it wasn't like they made Tinder for capes (or if they did, it wasn't like he trusted having such a thing on his phone). But, through some dark magic, Mark had managed to set up a blind date between him and another superhero. Being Mark, the details had either been thin or somewhat exaggerated, but he was still willing to give it a go. There'd been the long debate about what to wear - be authentic, be classy, be "normal," whatever. In the end, he'd settled for going a bit more mod - a two-tone jacket and trousers over a long-sleeve Ben Sherman button-up. He still had the braces and boots, though. There were some things a man had to do. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the street for the restaurant, hoping he wasn't going to screw this one up.

20 Miles Out from the Senkaku Islands Saturday, November 29th 0800 Local Time Cannonade looked out at the listless gray skies over the East China Sea, trying to focus on the task ahead of him. Then again, that might have been easier if he knew anything about what it was. He had some idea of why he was flying over international waters in one of AEGIS' high velocity planes, but he was a bit flaky on the fine details. He could, as always, blame Commander Grayston for all of this. He'd answered the knock at his door Saturday afternoon thinking it was Andy coming over to talk about all the things that he'd experienced during the semester up in Boston. He'd actually fought to stifle a groan when he saw who was standing there instead. "Come on," he'd said, "it's Thanksgiving..." "Exactly," Grayston had said, "so think of the ones who didn't make it home to their families." That had shut Joe up real quick. Once Grayston had settled in and salvaged some coffee from Joe's kitchen, he laid all that was known on the table. An AEGIS light aircraft had experienced heavy turbulence while returning from a mission in Japan, and had gone down somewhere around the Senkaku Islands. A transceiver in the plane's black box logged the crashdown site as 20 miles out from one of the islands, and there was a chance the three agents on board had made it to shore. "The Senkaku Islands have been in dispute for years. Japan, Taiwan, and the People's Republic of China all think they have a claim to them, and each one calls them by something different. This island, however... no one seems to be champing at the bit for it. If anything, we've intercepted intelligence that indicates Taiwan has tried to foist it upon Japan in return for claims to one of the others. Our information on it is spotty at best, and neither nation wants to disclose much about it. The best we have to go on is that Japanese intelligence has referred to it as Avici." "Guessing it ain't after the DJ." "No. It's a term for the lowest level of the Buddhist Hells, the place from which sinners have no escape." "Great. So, if the survivors made it there..." "They're capable men and women. But this island has folklore associated with it going back centuries, little of it pleasant. There's no clear, concise picture of what may be dwelling on it, but whatever it is, it has teeth. We need somebody who can get in there, get the agents, and get out before that beast wakes." "Well, it's been a while since I went on a nature hike through Hell itself --" "You're the muscle for the operation. You'll be accompanied by specialists better suited for the... eccentricities of the terrain."

De Pijp, Amsterdam Saturday, December 6th 3:23 PM local time Joe Macayle had to admit, this was a lot better than the last time he'd been sent abroad by AEGIS. Although it was cold and crisp in Amsterdam, and some of the canals were starting to show signs of frost, the streets were still clear and the sky was still blue. There was that general sense of charm to the place, of somewhere that was bustling but where you could find a place to sit back and watch the world go by. There was a lot to partake of here - the dive bars, the coffee shop, the other coffee shops... But all that would have to wait. AEGIS didn't send him out here for vacation purposes, after all. The tide of economic distress in Europe had turned over a number of rocks in the past few years, and the fascists had come skittering out to preach to the fearful and distrustful. Even in Amsterdam, though, the far-right interests had limits - while the Party for Freedom had spent years preaching about the menace of immigrating Muslims and trying very hard to "keep the Netherlands Dutch," that still ran headlong into the fact that the Netherlands were, well, Dutch. The party maintained an active defense of queer and Jewish individuals, asking that they be given their freedom and the law used fully to protect them from assault - mainly as a flying wedge against what they saw as the menace of Islam, but at least with enough lip service to make most other far-right parties look at them sideways. Aside from that, there were a few parties more in line with fascists concerns, but they were minor, fragmented, and often came into conflict with the big dog - the thing about using "support for Palestine" as a smokescreen for anti-Semitism was that it ran headlong into the interests that used "support for Israel" as a smokescreen for anti-Islamic sentiment. Which made it interesting that a new far-right interest was on the rise locally, one that seemed to be going all in. The United Netherlands Group had seen a rise over the past year, targeting working and middle class populations with the promise of a "reforged, refined" Netherlands. One that paid tribute to a heritage of fortitude, independence, and empire, and not "reverse colonization" and "personal degradation." They'd managed to stuff their distaste for things like the red light districts, the coffee shops, and gay marriage well down the docket, framing it more as a libertarian concern - "Who should tell us what we have to accept?" - while pushing the idea of a nation meddled with by outside forces, be it Zionists, Islamists, or the European Union. While the party had yet to claim any seats, it was gaining a good deal of influence in the smaller cities, and was starting to make inroads in Amsterdam. And, most alarmingly to AEGIS intelligence, the party's war chest was incredibly hard to trace. Where most of these parties had some media mogul or entrepreneur with some very unconventional beliefs pulling the strings, no one knew where the UNG was getting its funding. There was a part of Joe that had bristled at the idea that he was being sent to try and infiltrate what UNG interests he could find. He admitted, he did look the part - but mainly to people who assumed someone who looked and dressed like he did would gravitate that direction. But if it gave him a real in with the fascists, then it would be worth it. And make it all the more satisfying when he got to deliver the beatdown. He'd been told there would be some sort of gathering in this part of town, protesting some issue or another. For now, he waited for the tinder to gather, just to see who would light the spark.

December 25, 2014 Freedom City Midnight Manor Late in the evening on Christmas Day, a Deep One sang an eerie song in the Midnight Manor, her body silhouetted by the darkness outside. "BUT I GET UP AGAIN! YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN! WOO!" As her song finished and the strains of Tubthumping vanished into the quiet of what was sometimes one of many front parlors in the Hunter mansion, Aquaria leaped in the air and cheered, her smooth, wet skin glistening from the exertion of the vigorous karoake number. "I am awesome!" For their part, Mark and Nina both cheered and applauded - Mark hadn't been at all sure bringing the machine along was the right idea, but luckily Jessie's amphibian friend had practically snatched the karaoke machine up with her tongue and practically begged to go first. (Jessie had, blushingly, commented that Aquaria used to do this a lot before disappearing herself) Aquaria first approached Mark and Nina, since they had been the latest to the party - only arriving after Martha Lucas had turned in early and left her son and his girlfriend free for Christmas. "You guys want a turn? C'mon, don't be chicken!" Between Nina's competitive streak and Mark's natural showmanship, it wasn't long before the couple was standing in front of the computerized board, picking out their song - 500 Miles seeming to be an early favorite. Aquaria bounded over to join Erin and Trevor to watch the show, declaring, "Surface music is great, you can yell so loud when you're singing! And nobody complains!"

The OOC

Saturday, May 3rd, 2014 Later morning DeCosta High School, Freedom City The crowd had swelled beyond the gymnasium's bleachers, leaving many spectators standing on the basketball court or out in the hallway. The low murmur of conversation was an effective white noise, but the young girl perched on a top row was still able to pick out a few strains of conversation. "... Hope I can ask him about the tax on... " "... Wonder what he was thinking when he voted for... " "... Just who is running against him, again?" "... Whatever happened to his son after that fight with... " The Tona Baudin winced and purposefully turned away from that last one. It was more than a year ago that her robotic duplicate had tried to kill Aaron Walsh, and had then turned that same homicidal programming on her friends and allies. She had since repaired those relationships, but now the Congressman was back in town on the campaign trail, which her friends insisted had nothing to do with killing people. Still, Tona was making sure that no one else was going to try and attack Representative Walsh this time. She turned up the hood of her dark green hoodie with a fletching design and settled into her seat. Walsh was supposed to be out at any moment, and this town hall meeting was supposed to go on until past lunch, so she had to be ready to wait all day.

For rolls and whatnot concerning >this thread.

Bluebound Books Saturday, July 19th, 2014 7:30 PM Joe Macayle considered himself something of an amateur historian. But some times, that could be a broad consideration. There were areas he didn't know a whole lot about - the medieval era, the Civil War, the early American Revolution. But, at the same time, he knew there were areas that he could just tear into. World War II, early labor history, the superheroic record of Freedom City... and the town's punk scene. Which was why he was spending tonight at a bookstore instead of a club. Marc Varren, veteran Freedom City journalist, was presenting a reading from his new book, Screaming Indecency: Punk Rock, Freedom City, and the Moore Era. Joe knew a bit about the era, learned from the veterans of the scene - Moore's efforts to push for order, decency, and ethics (defined entirely by him, of course) pushed hard, and of course, the "disorderly," "indecent," and "unethical" of the city pushed back even harder. It was a time that had given rise to blistering music, a punk scene with enough passion to set the city of fire... and more than a few violent dissidents that almost did, something the papers of the era had been happy to make hay of. Then again, he hadn't lived it. Varren was one of the old guard punks, skin like shoe leather and tongue like fire. It'd be a hell of a thing to hear about the time from someone who'd been there on the streets.

Two Miles From Lake Vostok Antarctica Friday, May 9, 2014 7:52 PM White. White as far as the eye could see. And cold that cut right through to the bone. Ever since he'd come into his powers, Cannonade hadn't exactly felt the weather in quite some time. But it said a lot that, even with his enhanced resilience, this was able to get right at his core. After only a few seconds on the ice, he firmly decided that Antarctica could go screw. He didn't know why he'd expected anything else. He should have known this would happen at some point - join a superteam, see everywhere from Hell to Honolulu. But while he'd usually gotten his more globetrotting assignments courtesy of AEGIS, it had been Edge who'd brought this one to the table. Apparently there was a UNISON research base near Vostok, dedicated to plumbing both the depths of the ancient lake and whatever things might be found in the snow. Cannonade hadn't gotten the full account, but a message had gotten out a few days back. There wasn't enough sensible content to lean one way or another, but the fact that something garbled and messy was coming out of the station could be considered a soft cause for alarm. Which would also explain their guest. Joe was used to the rest of the League, but apparently, the Indian woman had been seconded to Edge's assignment. She was a psychic, apparently, something that left him very conscious about what he was thinking. Her job was to check up on the mental health of the scientists. A place like this could do things to a man... and apparently, there had been rumors of whole expeditions who'd gone around the bend down here. There was a chance it wasn't all isolation... Joe just adjusted his jacket, and kept his eyes on the base. Soon enough, the security team would be out to wave them in. He just had to focus on that...

OOC for thread! Carrie and Cannonade back to Earth Victoriana, to face some political skullduggery and the Cannonites! Please tag! Starting of with Steam and Carrie, will hook Cannonade in asap! Steam is purely a hook here, will not participate in adventure!

"Ah there you are. Devil to find. Pleasure to see!" No matter how long he stayed in Freedom City, Lord Steam continued to dress like the most outlandish fop. And somehow just pulled it off. He got stares wherever he went, and was quite happy to sign photographs. He passed himself off as a British Detective and Aristocrat who fancied a life in Freedom City. His role as inter-dimensional diplomat was less well known. It was easy enough to contact Carrie aka Silhouette. Her Medal of Valour doubled up as a radio receiver for Steam, and his home dimension to contact her, and as fate would have it, pay her well for her services as their best freelance agent. The Summer was hot, hot, but Lord Steam had merely rolled up his starched shirt and kept his top hat on to field the rays of the sun. It was Freedom City Park and he had arranged to meet Earth Victoriana's number one agent there.

GM January 15th, 6.15, Wednesday, 2014 Blue Moon Pub & Grill, Southside "...and so, introducing Joe, a man who needs no introduction!" declared Stanislaw in a mock-stentorian voice, his broad face red from both suppressed laughter and the heat of the room, thanks the kitchen door left open to let the aroma of cooking meat work its magic. Raising a glass mug from the bar, filled with the local ale and glittering like liquid gold(if one was feeling high-minded), he offered it to Joe Macayle with a solemn "Your award, sir, for spectacular achievement in the realm of Doing a Damned Day's Work Without Whining. Bear it with pride and honor. A toast, ladies and gentlemen, to Joe!" "To Joe!" repeated the rest of Joe's shift, who in better or worse unison downed a mouthful of ale, giving a round of exaggerated applause alongside quite sincere grins. Though the half-emptied mugs were part of that. The steel plant had just finished the Week of Champions, where the exemplary output and smooth running of the plant over the last three years had gotten its managers and staff a slew of corporate awards, delivered with about as much passion and dignity as the average office birthday party. The lower-rung staff hadn't been afforded the same honors, though that and the notable pay increase was considered by most of Macayle's shift to be a much better deal, and after the day was over many of them had decided to hold their own awards ceremony at the Blue Moon. Stanislaw, as the most generally senior employee, had been Master of Ceremonies. Since Joe had been last in line, he gratefully dropped his mighty bulk down onto the chair beneath him and nodded sagely to the long-suffering bartender "A little recognition for the workin' man, brother. Don't tell me you don't want some too!" He was answered with a snort and the clunk of another mug being placed in front of him which the burly man happily scooped closer. "Recognition for what?" A much less friendly voice asked from a table behind them "For being the longshoremen of the steel industry?" The speaker was dressed in a crisp dark grey suit, with dark curly hair and a short beard, looking sourly at the millers "For being (@##& machines, is that it?" It got a lot quieter. Most of the workmen at the steel mill weren't as big as Joe or Stanislaw, but they all suddenly looked that much more dangerous.

OOC thread for this thread, where Joe Macayle learns that some people will always be henchmen.

September 1, 2013 Typhoon City (formerly Qalansiyah), Free Kingdom of Socotra From the perspective of Freedom City, anyway, it started small. A freak storm in the northwestern Indian Ocean, lashing coasts as far as the Arabian Peninsula and the Horn of Africa. A sudden media blackout on the island-nation of Socotra; with even its ample (and often illegal) Internet going dark. Socotra was on the radar of only a few people in the city with its lord and master gone largely into retirement, and a brief blackout was an occasion for concern, but not alarm. Of course, some people had closer ties to the Socotran royal family than others. Standing on the roof of the royal palace of Typhoon, on its best days a magnificent palace of Arabian and Indian styles, surrounded by ever-flowing fountains of fresh water that were among the tallest such in the world, Mark Lucas stared at what lay in Qalansiyah harbor, and beyond it, and for one of the few times in his life honestly had no idea what to say. He took the hand of his girlfriend Nina al-Darsah, princess-turned-college-student, and when he made eye contact and saw the fear she would never, ever, ever admit to having, he said the only thing that made sense. "I'm going to call for help." "Well...I suppose," said Nina, putting her arm around him, the shadows in which they both stood casting her dark face into gloom. "Normally this is something the royal family would handle amongst ourselves, of course, but this, yes, this is something that your friends could help with." She hugged him, stepped aside so he could disappear without her, because what princess would leave her kingdom in a time line this? and said "Hurry." With a nod, Mark's costume flashed up around him before he vanised himself - reappearing in the main foyer of the famous Midnight Manor! "Trevor, Erin!" he called out loud as his shoes creaked on hardwood floors. He'd been gone just half a day, but what a day it had been! "I need your help with something! Something...big!" He had to laugh at the absurdity of it.