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October 18, 2015 Summerhill Street Farmer's Market Only a two block stroll from the Espadas School, every Sunday farmers from the area surrounding the city along with more local bakers, brewers and others set up stalls to sells their wares along either side of the winding path that could somewhat generously be characterized as a park. The fountain in the center of the market hadn't had working water in years but the trees provided pleasant shade and the benches were kept in good condition. The main draw was in-season produce but there were homemade jams and preserves for sale alongside fresh breads, beeswax candles next to knitwear in time for the cooling weather. The bustling path was full of West Enders looking for bargains and loud with the sounds of haggling. "I want to grab some apples, corn and sweet potatoes for sure," Erik was explaining as he led the way, having finally relented to the season and put on a light sweater under his wool-lined jacket. With a pair of reusable shopping bags stuffed unceremoniously stuff into his jacket's pockets he was already craning his neck to see what was on sale. "Other than that, what were you thinking?" After another playful conversation about whether or not Talya could actually manage an uneventful grocery shopping trip he'd agreed to let her take the lead in gathering what they needed for dinner that evening. It had quickly become clear from the way he animatedly talked up the market that he was taking this as an opportunity to show the blonde Englishwoman around the neighbourhood where he'd been born and raised as much as anything else.

February 27th, 2013 8:00 P.M. North Bay Marina Ever since the fateful events in the previous month in which the Curator sprung a sense of terror that the city hadn't seen in well over twenty years, the word charity had become synonymous with Freedom City's night life. And although the city itself would never be desperate for repairs with the spirit of Dr. Metropolis, the families of the victims and the civil servants who gave their all still needed the proper assistance to get through the most trying of times. Of course proceeds for the needy in general would not go forgotten. The somber subject didn't stop many an event from becoming such a grand celebration that it could be considered the go to event of the evening. As could be expected along the piers of the North Bay Marina overlooking Freedom's own historical museum from the distance, a large 534 ft. luxury yacht would be home to just such an event. Celebrations were well under way, as one by one an expensive vehicle or limousine began arriving bringing many of Freedom City's elite all under one place. The generous spirit of the night would do nothing to dissuade those with unsavory intent from partaking in the festivities. In fact, it was even suspected that some of the items put up for auction were simply a means to transfer illegal goods. The massive vessel belonged to the financial titans at Rath & Stromberg. Though one would be hard pressed to find the two children of Stromberg whom actually chose to attend the event. Choosing not to be on full display as the family was one that valued privacy. The roar of an engine would rip through the night as a dark blue rear engine sports car pulled into the pier. Erick Sloane adopted son of David Sloane accompanied promptly exited the vehicle. The handsome young man was dressed in a sleek custom tailored suit. The 2-button classic styled vent jacket worn over a collared dress shirt afforded him little protection against the cold night air. The Russian wasn't a stranger to less than favorable ambient temperatures and the only concession afforded to the temperature would be the slight moment in which he checked to see if his breath was visible. Erick's light blue eyes rose to meet with the large lumbering vessel. He didn't often attend the showy functions, and in fact dreaded the small talk that inevitably followed. Other than sharing a tax bracket, Erick didn't often find he melded with higher society all that well. "Remember it's for a good cause. I can nod along for at least an evening...I think."

May 18, 2012 The first thing that Kimber Storm noticed as terribly, urgently wrong as she staggered, coughing from the cloud of smoke was not in fact that she had to cough or even stagger. Neither should have been a concern for the long since deceased poltergeist, but her first thought was that she was wearing absolutely the wrong hood. Rather than the ethereal cowl of her usual reaper's cloak, this was a heavy fabric attached to a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off and something scrawled on the front in stylized spraypaint. The jumpsuit underneath she recognized as the Claremont Academy uniform, which she was also sure wasn't right. Raising her hands to pull the hood out of the way, she saw that they were a healthy pink, undeniably solid and beating with a pulse. "Oh, marmalade," the living girl gulped. Thirty Minutes Earlier It took a lot of concentration from Kimber to keep her excited feet on the floor as the group of students entered the famous 'Super Museum' in Midtown, and even more concentration to keep her excitable body language confined to the shelter of the black umbrella blocking the sun's rays from revealing her as a translucent specter. The school trip to see the recently unveiled Lucas Collection had prompted a few significant looks between the senior members of the current iteration of Young Freedom, but the entusiastic Canadian was just looking forward to seeing all of the memorabilia in person. If all of the pieces were half as interesting as the ones mentioned specifically in the brochure, it was bound to be a memorable day!