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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.