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GM Saturday April 7th, 2018 6:00 pm Waco, Texas The Cameron Park Zoo was a point of pride for the city of Waco. Plenty of people used it as a source of outdoor recreation. Since early this morning dozens of people and cars had entered the park and none had come out. This alone would have been concerning. The fact that multiple bordering neighborhoods had been swallowed up as well made it all the worse. No less than a hundred people had gone missing, people had stopped going in, but no one was coming out. What had come out was a bear. From a distance, one might assume that it was one of the American Black Bears from the Cameron Park Zoo, perhaps even rightly. Except now it was about three times the size and when it had been approached by police it had breathed flames at them. To put it lightly? Not your average day in the park. Hyperactive had gotten the call about an expanded park early in the morning. He had at that point decided he wasn’t going to pick a fight with trees. When he’d heard the reports of missing persons he’d decided it might be his issue to fix. When he heard about a bear wandering down University Parks, it definitely became his issue to solve. So he decided it was time to run home.

Hey y’all I’m back! And that means so is Hyperactive! Without further ado! A plot hook: Did you know that Cameron Park in Waco is the second largest municipal park in the United States Of America? At least it was. Now it’s definitely the largest. The park is expanding. People are going missing. The animals in the Cameron Park Zoo are loose and seemingly altered. Well, Hyperactive is going to be on the case, but he needs help. Probably looking for one one or two other heroes!

The OOC. Put all rolls here.

June 2017 White Sands Missile Range New Mexico "Mayday, mayday!" came the alert as the plane descended towards the base runway, the beings surrounding it jetting back and forth like mites attacking a bird. But these mites had teeth - and super-strength. "This is Air Force One with a Code Uniform Mayday, repeat, a Code Uniform Mayday! We are in distress and about to make an emergency landing at White Sands Missile Range!" General George Bradley, the overall commander at White Sands, was a scientist more than a warrior - but he knew a Code U Mayday well enough. He'd been a young second lieutenant assisting Colin Powell the last time a Code U had been called - when the man it had been named for, the Ubermensch, attacked the White House during the first Gulf War and only barely been defeated by the Centurion. Superhumans were attacking the President! "Clear the runaway, now!" he called, running out the door from his office to his command post at top speed. "Get Kirtland and Cannon to scramble their jets now!" The Air Force bases weren't that far away, not at jet speed. The moment he stepped outside, he heard the battle in the air - Air Force One was screaming in for a landing at breakneck speed, smoke pouring from its engines, the zipping forms of attacking metas on either side now taking fire themselves from White Sands' small MP force. "And put out an alert - White Sands is under attack by unknown hostile forces!" There was no point in letting the world know the President was arriving - not yet!

This is the place where the rolls go. Also, ask me anything. I mean it. Well, anything thread related.

March 24, 2017. Freedom City. Various places. Mid-Afternoon. Six heroes. Varying ages. Varying skillsets. Varying modus operandi. All of who sudden vanished off the face of the earth. There was no flash of light, no psychedelic tube of travelling. It was simply six people who were one place and then suddenly not. But from their perspective, they had not moved. The world had suddenly become different around them. And yet much the same. What had happened wasn’t hard to figure out. This was not their world. ***************** It had taken Terrifica moments to figure out she wasn’t on her Earth anymore. The lack of tailpipes on the cars was one big clue. Another was the lack of trash on the street. A dozen subtle things that simply were wrong. Fear and curiosity mixed. Her motorcycle was a dimensional wall away, and it was highly unlikely even cash would be of any assistance. So, she was walking. It was indeed The Fens, but..not. The signs of poverty and desperation were…gone. There were people around, of course, but they were moving with a purpose in mind. No loitering on street corners, front stoops, or building lobbies. She fought back anxiety at being stranded. Away from home. From family. First things first. Find a library. Assuming they hadn’t been banned in this dimension, clues would be easy enough to find in one. Newpapers, history books, geography, even encyclopedias could be useful in getting her bearings. ***************** In her chambers, the Empress, her Imperial Majesty, Savior of Humanity & Mother of The Modern World, was kind of annoyed. “So. You’re telling me either the dimensional transporter I designed and built failed to function, or that you are the kind of idiot who can’t read simple information displays.” She waved her hand at an apologetic courtier. “No, don’t strain yourself trying to answer. Like always, I already know what happened. There was a flicker from the Terminus. Slight, but enough to throw off the location calculations. it wasn't unexpected.” She pulled back a sleeve and pressed at the flexible flatscreen on her wrist. “I’ve just uploaded the tracker program. It’s based on a combination of their dimensional and super power energy signatures, which were recorded during transport.” She saved her hand at the courtier, dismissing him. “Go. Find them and bring them to me. Gods know I can’t trust you to explain the problem to them.”

May 15, 2017 Austin, TX Austin's Lone Star Bank is located near the edge of the city proper, about halfway down 290 towards Dripping Springs. The distance means that it usually caters to patrons who live in western suburbs and bedroom communities and don't want to drive all the way into Austin to do their banking business. Of course, that also means it's prone to robberies. The bank has security and security cameras - but sometimes all that does is pick up what's happening. "All right, yew varmints, we warned you!" The lead outlaw, like her confederates, looked like a character from a movie - her black bandanna, cowboy gear and hat, and twirling six-shooters, belonged to the crime of an entirely different era - as did the half-a-dozen horses she and her gang had tied up outside before bursting into the bank with mayhem in mind. The guards were disarmed now and scattered among the bound and gagged patrons, her confederates were either guarding the door with their pistols or applying the dynamite to the door, everything was going well. Even the one guy in the middle of the floor, blood pouring from the six shots blasted in his shirt, was all part of the plan. Stupid bank manager had tried to play hero. Gotta make sure the people know who's really in charge. "C'mon, boys, hurry it up!" she called.

GM 10:27 PM, July 12th, 2017 Center For Disease Control and Development: Atlanta, Georgia Most of the time, epidemiology needed to be public in order to work properly. People needed to be made aware of the disease. They needed to be educated on what they could do to prevent it. Public awareness was one of the greatest tools in the arsenal of epidemiology. This was not one of those times. "We don't know what's causing this?" Hyperactive looked at the "vector" as it banged against the glass. He was working on his second two liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. This was gonna be a long night. "No and we felt that it was better to get some support before heading out into the field." Replied Dr. Yang, the epidemiologist in charge of the crisis. "President Cahill has you on his list of heroes to call when we find ourselves up a creek without a paddle." "Sure, this is exactly what I signed on for. I'm gonna call in a little help, I promise they'll be discreet." Hyperactive was already feeling well out of his depth here. He grabbed his phone and hammered out two quick messages. "Woodsman, have a situation that may require some stealth and discretion. I think you may be able to help here. I have a situation in Georgia. I can pick you up." The scatterbrained Speedster sent. "Mr. Daggers. Names Hyperactive. Druid gave me your number. Got a situation in Georgia, could use some help. Drop your location, I can be there, fast." "Give me a few moments to retrieve some friends Doctor." Hyperactive said as he waited for a reply.

Ooc for this: http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/topic/9839-back-and-deader-than-ever/?do=getNewComment science? Magic? Well lets find out! Quick response to that text so we can get everyone in GA, and get this started. @Avenger Assembled @Twisted Mortal

I need Notice checks from the both of you!

July 21st, 2017 8:30 PM The Southern Queen Restaurant Hyperactive had found that heroes played all sorts of roles. He liked to think of them as body parts. His father had been a powerful set of fists and his eyes cast tremendous vision. His best friend Druid was a heart that guided the Waco Warriors. And Hyperactive? Well he was almost always a pair of feet. Running around and kicking bad guys. But today was different. Today Hyperactive was a mouth. Hyperactive arrived in a blur of motion. He had on a simple black suit with a silver shirt. His green tie had his "H" in a pattern on it. He had opted for the visor that just went over his eyes and ears. This wasn't a combat mission, but it was a mission all the same. He strolled up to the entrance. The large briefcase with the congressional seal displayed hung at his side. "Hello Miss, table for two please." Hyperactive smiled at the hostess. "And tell Cheff McQueen that Hyperactive is here to see her."

GM May 1st Chicago, the Seasonal Enter: Zyte Guyst (aka Alvin Gaye) Zyte Guyst was a short guy, with a mop of unruly dyed red hair and and an artistic beard. He just about pulled off being cool and trendy without turning himself into a pastiche. Zyte was a bit of an artist, a multi-media film maker who had seeped into the internet and film festivals. He liked making in-ya-face, provocative art house films and investigative journalism. Truth was often bent, but as Zyte always said "what is truth, anyhowways?" With a portable camera by slung over his shoulder, and his favourite entourage of Zane! the cool stuntguy / bodyguard and Michelle Hill, ex-actress, now sensible aide, he proudly pressed the knocker. "Unanounced is best, huh, Hilly?" he asked his aide. "Uh-huh, sure, Zyte, always the best..." she sighed, and examined her nails. They were well done, and whilst they could be admired, didn't need examining. She just didn't want to be there right now. Her job was to curb Zyte's excesses. She didn't feel like she was doing a good job...

GM June 4, 2017 The New Beginnings Ranch wedding venue. Outside Abilene, Texas The story had been on all the news channels in Texas. It was both very strange and not so strange at the same time. The not so strange part was that a disgruntled ex had crashed a wedding. Which in and of itself was not newsworthy. What was strange, and newsworthy, was the rest of it. The disgruntled ex had high tech weaponry, from the few wedding guests who had managed to flee, they had what seemed like sci-fi plasma rifles. The whole situation had gone bad fast. Hostages were taken and the police had cordoned off the venue. One psychotic screaming ex with a plasma rifle would have been more than enough for the Abilene police department. But there wasn't just one. There were three. One man and two women with high tech weaponry who had taken hostages inside of the ranch. "Listen just let us go!" One bride cried. One of the crashers responded by smacking her across the face. "Home Wrecker!" She snarled back and waved the rifle, discharging a few shots over the heads of the very terrified hostages.

April 20, 2017. The Caribbean. Cilan Island. Mid-Morning. Cilan Island was roughly the size of a postage stamp, metaphorically speaking. It was barely in the Caribbean at all, lying right between it and the Mid-Atlantic. Most people didn’t even know it was there. Until today, when a pair of hurricanes (Category 5, the both of them) sprung up almost as if by magic over the course of an hour and a half. It couldn’t possibly be right, but it seemed as if the two storms were fighting each other in deadly earnest. The poor little island was standing right in their path. Maybelle McQueen took one look at the breaking news report and ran out of the Southern Queen. The few hundred people on that island were in serious trouble, and neither of those storms were natural. She tossed command to her sous chef on the way out, and then shot into the air hard enough to rattle windows. Even at top speed, it would take her at least a half hour to get there. By then the storms would be overrunning the island, and people would be in desperate need of help. Fortunately, Queenie was on the job.

OOC for this thing right here. Ask me anything. Because I forget stuff. And forget to do stuff. You know how it is. Before I forget (natch), this might help with understanding who the Empress is.

OOC for this So for a few posts, just setting up an meeting between Zyte and Hyperactive, with parents as go-betweens.

April 30, 2017 Freedom City Riverside Park 7PM It was a quiet enough afternoon for the Cline family, or at least one part of it. Richard Cline had always been an involved father (sometimes to Holly and Will's frustration) but he'd made a special point to step in and get involved in their lives after they'd all brought home baby Bryant Cline. Paige hadn't actually objected to adopting his infant father rather than see him put into the foster system - but he also knew her well enough after decades together to know what it meant for her to open their home like that. So he'd made a special point to be the father to Bryant that Bryant had never been to him, and if it was all strange and dysfunctional, well their family had always been that at least a little bit and they'd gotten through all right. Tonight, the day before the big May 1 charity Race for the Cure that he and Will had entered along with some other Freedom City heroes, he and his kids were sitting around a picnic table in Riverside Park, waiting for their fellow racers to arrive. Holly had Bryant out from his carrier and had laid him on his stomach on a blanket on the ground - but he wasn't staying there! Now a chubby nine-month-old full of energy, the bald-headed tot kept 'dashing' his way off the blanket, clutching his lovey in one hand and pulling himself along with the other arm and both his knees. <Go Bryant!> thought Holly, snapping some pictures with the new phone that had been her recent twelfth birthday present. <No more babies in chains!>

GM April 22, 2017 12:00 am Toys. There was always something fun about finding new toys. He remembered flipping through catalogs as a small child, trying to find the right thing to ask for. Enough money could buy almost any toy. But of course some toys were priceless. Sometimes people would share these toys. But he'd learned it was always easier to take and not ask. Who cared really? If they really wanted to keep the toys they would have taken better care of them. They wouldn't leave them lying around. He activated the process of "ordering" his new toys. There was a flash of blue light. That was the last thing each of the heroes had seen. That flash had dulled to a city street. A street that could have been any street in Freedom. Kind of. Dozens of cars were on the street unmoving. The towers looked right, but there was no one around. No one save the other heroes in a similar state of recovering from a stupor.

All right, it's Notice check time!

The ooc thread.

Initiative time! Woodsman 10 + True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:3Powered by RANDOM.ORG Woodsman goes on 13. Sniper 10+ True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:19Powered by RANDOM.ORG 29 Spotter 8+ True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:17Powered by RANDOM.ORG 25 So it's Sniper: 29 Spotter: 25 Woodsman: 13 in terms of init so far

March 2017 Wading Way The Blanchard Center (Freedom's Fourth Best Conference Venue!) 6PM Down below on the conference room floor, the tech representatives, executives, and families were circulating, spending the last couple of hours on the conference floor before supper started at 6:30. Through their ranks, a predator stalked - though you wouldn't have known it to look at him. His suit and tie didn't fit exactly right - he needed specially cut suits to accommodate his binder anyway, and his arms were considerably bulkier than his counterpart's in this dimension, but plenty of teenage guys didn't quite fit into the suits designed for an adult's frame anyway. He'd left most of his gear on the rooftop across the street, the same place he'd used as a base to spy on this place (by means of binoculars by night), so here he just looked like any other smart teenager with an eye for miniaturized portable computers. Just the sort of thing he could use to make a really awesome bolt.... One eye closed, he sighted down the length of one particular chip, getting a strange look from the man behind the table. "Just looking," he commented, setting the chip back down. "What kind of heat tolerance do you have here?" The crowd of strangers moving from table to table behind him was hardly on his mind at all - well, relatively speaking, anyway.

Contents: Hell Q Origin Story April/May Vignette: Atlantean Invasion

Ok! OOC for http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/topic/9686-our-better-angels/#comment-253741 @Chimeric

GM 11:00 PM, Friday May 5th The message had mostly gone to spam in ArchAngel's troubalert app. It was useful to have to find emergencies nearby and usually didn't cause much trouble. However a few of the spammed messages had made it through. Yo n00b, We been watching. You probably think you're pretty great huh? Well guess what? You wrong lol. Anyways, we're gonna pull off a crime so 1337 you won't be able to stop us. You mad bro? So n00b you wanna try and stop us? Party on Aspen Drive, gonna be someone's last birthday. Try to stop our mad skillz. We dare you. Gonna pwn you, TR011 There was only one party on Aspen street that night. A birthday party. Miss Michelle Sands was turning seventeen and pulling out all the stops. Well so it said on the internet link that had been attached to the message. No parents in one of those huge mansions in the neighborhoods near Claremont. No invitation needed, and if you were over 21 you had better be bringing booze.