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Leviathan's Lair The depths of Great Bay, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday February 10, 2018 Up on the surface of the waves of Great Bay, the winds still whipped the cold that had gripped the East Coast across the water toward Freedom City. But deep beneath the waves’ surface, the waters were not much colder than they normally were. Along the rocky floor of Great Bay, nestled amongst the kelp and seaweed beds that rouse up dozens of feet, lay the undersea lair that Dr. Tristan Delacroix had created to be his lair as Leviathan. It was there that the good doctor was currently located. After encountering the Deep One Aquaria (also known as the superhero Sea Devil) a few months ago, a number of different things had seemed to come up and prevent him from showing the Deep One his headquarters. But finally they had been able to find a day that fit both their schedules, so now Aquaira and her roommate Jessie White would soon be arriving.

GM Thursday, April 20th, 2017 2:24 PM Morning, this came in today. Not as in, was sent, but as in “suddenly popped up in my drafted messages”. Is directed towards you too, so check it out: Hello You may remember me, I’m the one that helped you with Solemn’s network. I’ve got some information you and your scaly buddy are almost certainly interested in. New stuff about the guy and some stuff heating up again. The bench, where we first met. Today, 7:24 PM. Both of you. This is not a request. -Ph0enix Thoughts? Sounds pretty damn ominous, but going’s probably safer. All messages by Bonfire, written in quick succession, and received by Leviathan.

Wharton State Forest, just off Sorrow House Road Right Now The creature in the clearing lounged in a throne made of bone enjoying there first taste of freedom in centuries. It had expected someone to try and stop its return but was really disappointed by the effort, only a single human female had tried to stop them with her flaming sword. She was now held by some of the skeleton warriors, servants of old returned to carry on there servitude. The glowing green eyes beneath her hood was a nice touch they'd have to determine how she managed such a trick. "Did you expect to be able to beat me all by yourself pitiful human?" "Not exactly." the woman voice had an accent unfamiliar to them "Let me tell you how this all started a..."

Okay - @Thevshi, @Blarghy, @Electra What should we do before the Atlanteans show up - if anything?

GM When Tristan Delacroix first disappeared, the initial reaction at the party was simply bewilderment. No one panicked, thanks to the lack of apparent trauma. Even after the young doctor failed to pop up from beneath the outdoor table, his family and coworkers weren't sure what to make of it. But soon Alexander called the police, and then a few of his friends in local government to ensure that law enforcement was properly motivated. AEGIS quickly took an interest too; jurisdictional protocols kept them from claiming the case for themselves without more evidence of superhuman involvement, but they nonetheless dispatched Agent Thornton, who only just closed her last case involving a Delacroix abduction. And Thornton, smart enough to use all the assets at her disposal, put out a broadcast on the International Air Distress frequency for Miracle Girl. That hero's contribution, sadly, came down to looking around the estate and confirming that, yep, the little dude was gone. She didn't find any cackling villains lurking in the bushes, or ultraviolet ransom notes waiting for her eyes only; theories abounded among the regular investigators, but evidence did not. Casey might need some help with this one. * * * Calls were made, the media took note, and by the time that dawn lit Delvin's upper roof--a house so frivolously large that it looked like a posh, poorly-located shopping mall, because no private residence had any business being this big--his stone driveway was full of police cruisers and black SUVs with government plates. News vans lined the nearest public road. Tristan wasn't quite so well-known as the older two brothers, but he'd still draw in viewers, and if he didn't, then reporters could still find something worth their time here. They hovered just beyond the police barricades, hungry but patient. This was Freedom City, and sooner or later, heroes were bound to show up.

September 2017 Freedom City They'd tried to fool Aquaria. The Freedom League had called her in to consult about a tribe of Deep Ones passing through a city on the East Coast. She'd told them the truth as far as she could tell; that the tribe passing through was small and isolated, hunter-gatherers rather than would-be conquerors. They'd probably take what food they could find from undersea and then move on. That had been enough - they'd let her go back with the promise that these Deep Ones would be unmolested. They hadn't told her out loud what she was looking at, not in so many words, but she knew the bottom of Great Bay readily enough. A Deep One tribe was here, right here - and so familiar! It was late in early September, in the middle of the long Labor Day weekend, when Sea Devil dived into Great Bay and swam deep, her armor open to the sea around her. It was, it would always be, like coming home. She'd let Jessie stay home for this one, buried deep in her studies. This was something she had to do all by herself...

Initiative time! @Blarghy - here you go Sea Devil: 9 Naia: 25 Ikatere: 14

Here you go, @Blarghy! Can you give me a Notice check and a Search check?

This is a mistake, Tristan Delacroix thought glumly as he waited on the moonlit beach. Tonight he was a slender, middle aged man, tanned to the point of leathery wrinkles. Freedom City wasn't known for its surfing, and furthermore this was the wrong time of year for it anyway, but the disguise still brought him some comfort. Just some guy enjoying the beach, late at night. If only the rest of his plan was as simple. He spent the whole day second-guessing himself. Easy enough to think about inviting an outsider to his new lair--well, no, even that wasn't very easy--but actually following through with the idea brought the risks to the forefront of his mind and pushed all possible rewards to deep, dark corners. Even just Bonfire, whom he trusted fairly well by this point, could cause him terrible harm. Perhaps just inadvertently; trusting the other hero's motives wasn't the same as putting potentially his entire heroic career in Bonfire's smoky hands. The blog deal hasn't backfired yet, he reminded himself. No, no, that's unfair. It's going well. That's probably how Rayzer heard of me, so failing all else, at least Bonfire is effective. That guy was all the way on the West Coast! I could probably go to space and get recognized before long. At any rate, it was too late now. He had already contacted his "publicist" to request a meeting, with vague details, and most dangerous of all, advised Bonfire to bring a camera. Tristan was sure that he could pick and choose what was photographed, but would that be enough? What if he missed something? He imagined a fan intensely studying their computer screen for clues, and finding a loose thread that unraveled the whole tapestry he spent years creating. Never before had his cover story felt so flimsy. Tristan shivered from more than the chilly air, but didn't leave the beach. All he could do was proceed with watchful caution and trust his ally. Time would tell if that was enough.

OOC thread for this thread.

OOC for this

GM Friday, November 4th, 2016 Freedom City 2:24 PM Some time ago, Leviathan, the sea-monster prowling Freedom’s streets, had met Bonfire, a blogger and fellow Superhero. Bonfire was fairly well known online, even though he had not started much later than Leviathan, which came as a surprise when Tristan Delacroix ended up checking the internet on information on the smoke-controller he had met. It was an interesting sight, seeing just how much all of Bonfire’s internet appearances influenced his popularity. An effect of which, perhaps, Leviathan could profit from as well? Perhaps not as directly. Selfies and long posts describing his most recent missions probably weren’t Leviathan’s style, after all. Either way, talking to the man himself probably was a good way to start. Fortunately, reaching Bonfire was an easy task. In between fan-mail, a business address and a variety of other functions, actually sending him a message was easy.

OOC for this thread.

GM Huge problems can start from the tiniest of errors, like ripples spreading across a pond. When Dr. Marco Hoffman forgot to put his thick gloves on before helping transfer his patient to her gurney for transport, he thought little of it. He merely snatched his burned hand back from Julia Cole's arm, swore under his breath, and reached for his protective gear before finishing the job. The custom-made handcuffs clicked securely in place. She never appeared to stir from her drug-induced sedation; her guards experienced no trouble when they wheeled Cole back to her cell, specially designed for her unique needs. And by the time Dr. Hoffman noticed that his keys were missing from his pocket, it was far, far too late. About an hour later, Dr. Oliver Graves--a particularly appropriate name, given the number of innocent people he put into the ground with his highly unethical work for an organization he barely understood--reviewed the security footage under thermal and slow-motion viewpoints. He already knew what happened; the damage to the facility spoke for itself, as did four missing patients and over two dozen dead or maimed guards. He now wanted to know why. The Coles were gone--project names Absolute Zero and Heat Sink. Holly Page--project name Copy Error--the mercenary for some international cartel or another, who paid for her augmentation through the DNAscent process and were told that their hired gun died on the operating table, was gone. Owen Walsh--project name Temporal Displacement--was gone, but at least he wouldn't be missed; the man was insufferable even before DNAscent unhinged him, and Dr. Graves privately hoped that whichever field agents retrieved him did so with a body bag. All failures, technically, but that hardly meant they had no value. Jonathan Grant and Peter Hanks--only the latter of whom Dr. Graves actually knew--continued to experiment with new techniques for DNAscent; now that they could create "simple" powers with relative reliability, they branched out in hopes of securing more esoteric talents. Why rely on blind luck? Most patients at this particular facility just died, but these four survived with unforeseen side effects, handicaps, insanity, or some combination of the three. Dr. Graves was under orders to study them thoroughly before they were inevitably terminated. Omelets and eggs, after all. He clicked through the video records until he found the problem. There, using the slowest mode available, was a single frame of Heat Sink reaching one blurry hand into Dr. Hoffman's coat pocket. Dr. Graves narrowed his eyes and sighed. He made a mental note to adjust her sedatives, assuming she could be recaptured alive. "Detain Hoffman for the next round of experiments," he told his bodyguards. "And notify Dr. Hanks. We have a problem." * * * The four story structure of glass and gleaming steel seemed to appear almost overnight, right on the bank of the North Bay district; property values here were horrendously expensive, but that wasn't a problem. Although the owner of this facility wasn't blessed with patience, he did have more wealth than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and so, multiple construction crews worked around the clock with whatever equipment they requested. Inspections and permits proved surprisingly cooperative when the city officials who issued them suddenly found their departments' budgets much healthier than the day before. Besides, who wanted to stand in the way of a good cause? Some of those bureaucrats attended today's grand opening. Other guests included local scientists, out-of-town experts, and of course, reporters to handle the publicity. Covers only worked when enough people knew about them. At least it will be a proper charity, Dr. Delacroix thought in his office on the top floor. He made his way through the adjoining lab, past equipment that was still being relocated and set up. Most of the building was devoted to research space...and with so much gear, no one would be shocked when some of it went mysteriously missing during transit, especially when he replaced it with a wave of his checkbook. He took the stairs down to the lobby, where catering crews buzzed about. Tables with finger foods sat parallel to the rows of chairs, which faced a temporary platform where he and certain guest speakers would discuss the charity's goals. Above the platform was a long banner: Oceanographic Charity for Ecological Assistance and Nurturing. OCEAN, or on the formal paperwork, OCEAN-Freedom; Tristan couldn't resist linking his organization to the city that birthed his love of heroes and allowed him to, more or less, be one. The young doctor inhaled and smiled as he looked at the banner. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, he could delegate the day-to-day functions to his staff, narrow his personal contribution to pure research--he doubted that anyone would complain, given his skill in this area--and secretly spend most of his time more immersed in the Great Bay than anyone expected. He turned when he heard the front doors open, bringing in footsteps and light chatter. The earliest guests were arriving, and so, Tristan went to shake some hands.

GM October 1st, Saturday, 2016 Miles offshore from Emerald City, Oregon, the PanStar Pacific Proliferation Platform(P3 Station) "We're very excited to have you both here, Dr. Delacroix, Dr. Anderson." Though easily a few heads shorter than either of the two men, Olivia Oum, Director of PanStar's Ocean Developments division, seemed a positive giant among the ever-present crush of workers, technicians, company people and sundry humanity scurrying around the shiny-new fish farm and cloning facility. All of them quickly made way for the quartet of Dir. Oum in her crisp blue suit, her PA whose eyes never left her phone (which did nothing to impede the rest of her work) and the two visiting scientists. There was certainly plenty of space on the Platform, an enormous silver-white dome intersecting two massive rings cradling an advanced force-field system that let water and nutrients in and kept a great many other things out. Every ceiling and floor bore PanStar's gold star, the symbols of its associates(Emerald City's MarsTech, Ming Xi Visions and Saito Solutions) while the rain-streaked windows looked out at a recently-passed storm front and a heaving deep-grey sea. Leading the way to an elevator, Oum went on blithely "PanStar has worked hard to make the world a better place, and with this, a way replenish our dying ocean's ecosystem, we hope to avert a disaster even this world's heroes have been powerless against." With a swipe of her thumb against a colored bar the door rematerialized behind them. The PA's head tilted slightly upward "Zhou in manfac needs another bulk order Ma'am, 203E-5s, tungsten." "By all means, Panita, put it through." Oum smiled benevolently to the visitors as the elevator descended swiftly, the Pacific Ocean surrounding them and the submerged levels of the Platform as a cloud of darkness and shifting shadows deepened by the facility's lights.. "We understand UNESCO's need to ensure our full compliance with the law and the highest ethical standards, given the stakes at play. Rest assured, Dr. Anderson, we have nothing to hide and every member of our staff will comply with your review. Or I shall know the reason why." The dazzling smile the compact woman shone at the Englishman did nothing to undermine the undertone of ferocity. Turning to the American, the Director added "Dr. Delacroix, we appreciate the willingness of the Institute to gives its second opinion. Your work in bioscience and the in-depth understanding of business your brothers have displayed fills us with confidence that this will lead to a swift and mutually-satisfactory conclusion!" Relaxing against the transparent metal windows, Oum asked brightly "Do you have any questions?"

September 16, 2016 With the summer months come and gone sundown was coming earlier to Freedom City with each passing day. Even in the dim dusk the lamps flanking the monorail track cast stark shadows on the cement ravine below, the pillars that held the track aloft creating even bars of light and darkness. Marring that pattern came a pair of headlights, accompanied by screeching tires and unmistakable bursts of gunfire. The rust red sedan crashed through the steel link fence, hanging in the air briefly before slamming down onto the sloped cement with a great crash and screech of protesting metal. Almost lost in that cacophony was the whisper quiet purr of the inky black motorcycle in pursuit. Clad similarly in black its rider practically melted into the bike's silhouette in the dim light, a crimson wing pattern up its sides the only detail separating it from a black brushstroke across the scene. It easily followed through the path opened in the fence and sped after the sedan, wearing back and forth to avoid the increasingly panicked fire from the car's occupants.

January 3, 2017 3:00 pm, -3 GMT Over the Gulf Stream, Grand Banks, North Atlantic Ocean Cloudy, Raining. And Cold... Torpedo Lass has been through worse. At least that's what she tells herself. The Athena, a research ship for OCEAN-Freedom was doing important research on the salinity of the Gulf Stream, passing over the Grand Banks, helping anchor and place sensor bouy lines to the continental shelf. While a submarine was in order for doing this, it wasn't availiable at the time, but Torpedo Lass interested in the organization volunteered to help the effort. She got some looks from the half sea-sick crew members the day before, dressed in red drysuits and life vests, barely keeping their legs under them as the ship pitched as they got the last of their deck equipment secured. Mary herself had rescued a couple who had fell overboard when they hit a slick section of the deck, they were resting and warming back up in sick bay. They were looking more at the skin-tight wetsuit-like costume she was wearing wondering how she kept warm. The thing with Torpedo Lass, the cold stopped bothering her when she got the powers in the first place. But now the waves were calm enough to resume work, but since the trip got a bit hairy, things were limited to tethered sensors tossed over the side and reeled down to a proper depth. Torpedo Lass kept an eye on the bundled lines, jumping into the water to help guide them, escorting the sensor to depth. Once she broke the surface she put some air in her vest to swim about on the surface to inspect the side of the ship the line was on. Everything was clear of being any tangling issue. Once she was satisfied with the work she climbs up a rope ladder to the deck where a deck hand handed over a drink. "Thought you'd appreciate some fresh water." She said with a smile. "Not much of an issue but thanks." Torpedo Lass said... drinking Salt Water wasn't harmful for her, but the thought was appreciated. "How's Mark and Anna?" Torpedo Lass said with some concern. "They're better. They've gotten over the chill they got from falling overboard yesterday. That was a good eye spotting them fall overboard." Torpedo Lass smiled, straightening the sailor collar of her costume. Whenever she had the dive vest inflated it never really sat right. "At least they remembered the safety briefing I game them and remembered the man overboard beacons to make spotting them easier. Still getting used to how those modern Mae Wests of yours work... didn't have auto-inflation until I re-appeared in modern times.." Torpedo Lass sat on the Port rail, looking over the side at the sensor line. The deckhand was looking at Torpedo Lass quizzically at her last comment as she remembered something... "I think Doctor Delacroix was gonna check on things on deck here in a minute or two... I wager he wanted to suit up first." "Yeah, I wager seeing how Mark and Anna were shivering it put the gospel in him." Mary smirked. "And... Mae West?" "Before your time, kid. And i wager before they invented reflective tape." She waited for the Good Doctor to step out on deck. "Hopefully it's good news and we can shift location later to someplace calmer... and sunnier. Might raise the crew's spirits." "Yeah, this cold and rain is getting to some of the volunteers. The heavily shortened shifts help, but the rocking of the boat last night... really didn't help with sleep patterns." Torpedo Lass nodded. "Probably'll add a few days to the trip I'd wager too. Get inside and see what's up with the Doc, Sally." Sally nodded. "Sure thing. I'll see what's up." She heads into the ship, looking around for Doctor Delacroix. "Hey Doc! You around? Torpedo Lass is askin' for ya!" There was something on Mary's mind... she could have swore she had seen a black shadow in the water, but with the way the waves were yesterday, she couldn't be sure if it was a whale or anything... she hadn't had the chance to report the fact yet, but while things were calm, it seemed it was time for a situation report. She made sure the pony tail she had started to grow was still held in place by the tied ribbon at it's root. She had been growing her dark purple hair out from it's short, military length. Her phosphorescent blue eyes watching the other deckhands. Their glow slightly visible with the overcast lighting conditions. Not that any lighting was an issue... she could see in the dark plain as day.

August 1, 2016 It was Puppet Day - and things were a mess. Despite the public service announcement by Johnny Rocket and Dr. Metropolis (the latter six inches tall and made of hovering brown and green felt) that the Freedom League was on the case, the mass transformation of close to a third of Freedom City's population (especially its superhumans) was causing chaos all over the city. There was plenty for heroes to do, large and small. - The Dakanan Consulate For all their substantial superpowers, Edge and Monsoon had been pressed into service for the moment as child-minders - an assembly of children between the ages of one and six, the dozen or so children having drawn an unlucky straw and had two parents turn into puppets. Though neither Mark or Nina had much experience with childcare, they had quickly moved into action. Mark kept bags of snacks and bottles of milk and juice full, while Nina's stories kept older children occupied. Those that weren't playing iPads, anyway. Freedom City kids were resilient. "And then, all the world was transformed into a strange medieval society! I myself became a marid, daughter of the king of the seas, wedded to a handsome prince from the jinn kingdoms! Only our friends-" "Are you and Mr. Mark married in real life?" asked one small girl with a head full of blonde curls and a curious expression on her face. "Ah, no, but-" "But he said you two live in the same house!" asked one little boy of about the same age. "Are you two brother and sister?" "No! But we will be married soon! Now, children, back to the tale..."

Fourth of March, 2016, The Gateway, Goodman Building, Freedom City On its dais in the middle of the stark, open room, the circular Gate pulsed and rippled from the distortion of energy from an open channel to another world. For once, the Gateway was crowded, both with people and luggage, crates and moving equipment, Tesla and Maximus at their control stations the only people with much room to maneuver. Chase and Victoria were mingling with the swell of twenty-odd chatting, nervous scientists wearing A.S.T.R.O. Labs insignia on their jackets and hats, while Cosmo was darting about the room in excitement. The Moon Monkey had to get his hands on anything and everything new or strange, which with a crowd of strangers really was anything. His gleeful shrieking and intrusively curious hands sometimes got him a stern psychic warning, and by now he was much less hyperactive than a quarter of an hour ago. After the media circus outside, it was a pleasant and calming change of pace. The news that the famously secretive Atom Family and endlessly innovative Lab were making a joint ventire into a mysterious new universe had hardly been enough for the news agents and shouting reporters, but the fact that three superheroes were joining them, along with Freedom Cross biologist Tristan Delacroix and journalist Daphne Celeste, had packed the street outside the Goodman Building as fans and well-wishers screamed over each other to their idols. More cynical heads had shouted accusingly that the list of supers was blatantly calculated for news-worthiness rather than "true" value to the expedition. Where, for example, was Daedalus? Dragonfly? Miss Americana or any of the other technically-able or routine dimensional travelers? That had been the point. "People are easily frightened by the unknown, by choosing you" Chase had gestured simply to Terrifica, Velocity and Valerie Cain "we disassociate this expedition with the ideas people have that everywhere we go, there are our enemies." The Gateway glared with red light. It would soon be ready for passage into the Infraverse. For the moment, there was little to do.

Monday April 25 Trinity Hospital After the events in Ocean Heights, Rhode Island, and Mexico, the heroes of Freedom City (and indeed the world) are aware of the global threat of the Makot Mitzrayim - the Plagues of Egypt. The threat isn't just the Plagues, of course, but the people driven to hysteria (one way or another) by an apocalypse that seems ("but only seems" Seven stressed in her briefing sent to the major superteams) to correspond to that of the three largest religions on Earth. The Interceptors in particular, thanks to Harrier and Echo's report from down in Mexico, have gotten a strong picture of what's going on. But with only one attack in Freedom City proper, it's easy for most people to let life go on. In the West End in the last few days there's been a freakishly rare flu epidemic, one of those bizarre moments that can happen in a city full of people and exposed to all sorts of exotic chemicals, viruses, and other ailments over the years. Things are bad enough that the hospital is nearly full, getting them to send non-emergency cases home, and they've called out volunteer doctors from other hospitals to help deal with the crisis. The flu can be a scary disease for parents, the elderly, the unlucky - especially when it turns to pneumonia. So if the hospital chapel is particularly packed with people praying for their families and themselves, well, maybe it has nothing to do with the Plagues of Egypt. At least until you turn on the news - and catch the continued cleanup elsewhere in the city, the nation, the world. But the heroes of Freedom have dealt with worse than this...right?

Out of character thread for this, where some people go to another world to learn more about it

This is the OOC. Feel free to ask me quite literally anything about the thread, especially if it doesn't make sense. I've likely missed something. Nothing much to say to start with. Terrifica got a message to Miracle Girl about the case some kind of way that didn't violate secret identity. If you like, Blarghy, she could have done the same for Leviathan. Otherwise come in as you like.

This is the OOC. Feel free to ask me quite literally anything about the thread, especially if it doesn't make sense. I've likely missed something. I...can't think of any set up for this one that I need to put here. Like my boilerplate up there, ask me anything thread related.

January 12, 2016. Freedom City. North Bay. Corner of Osgood and Blake. 1 AM. GM There was a new band of thieves in town. A mansion had been burgled every night. But the hell of it was, even with the expensive security systems, the perpetrators hadn’t been seen. Well, that was inaccurate. There were slight blurs in the recording. But the known people who were fast enough to pull off the robberies all had airtight alibis. Like being in prison, in plain sight on another continent, or literally a member of the Freedom League. Etcetera. That meant this set had gotten their powers relatively recently, or just weren’t in the system. It was a problem. Fortunately, a few heroes had taken notice. PC Terrifica wasn’t sure if Miracle Girl had gotten her message. She was a Claremont student, that much was obvious. Both Lucas and Meilin would attend when they were old enough. She was even considering Nicholson for Lucas’s Pre-K. It wouldn’t have been that hard to figure out which one, however she would respect the unwritten rules of heroes. Not that it stopped her brain from working on the problem, like all the other ones. She was seated on her Terrifi-cycle, observing the latest target of the thieves. Or so she had deduced, and Terrifica was never wrong. She may have had incomplete data to work from, but she was never wrong.

Jan 6, 2016. Freedom City. Lincoln. Corner of 24th and K. 2:15 AM. This building used to be a hotel, years ago. It’d been refurbished into low income apartments in the 80s. Since then it had changed hands a few times, as each owner either gradually realized it was a big money loser or just went bankrupt. The last owner couldn’t afford to make any improvements, and the one before didn’t care enough to bother. It wasn’t condemned, but it was closed by the city health department. Currently it was empty. Or it was supposed to be. There was a new owner. Her name was Kerri “The Dragon Saint” McDougal. Anyone who knew the street gang and/or organized crime scenes knew who she was. An up and coming leader of a gang called named after her. The Dragon Saints were…insane. They’d battled rival gangs and various organized crime families up and down the East Coast, rattling the old order. It was a wonder the Raven or someone else hadn’t stepped in yet. Then again…the sheer outrageousness of the stories was likely working in their favor. Firefights while falling from an airliner? Dueling helicopters? Were those…hoverbikes? Then there was the merchandising and media savvy that made it seems like the worst of the exploits were just Photoshopped movie shoots and made internet stars out of the core Dragon Saints members. Next was the resulting cash building a wall of lawyers between the core members and law enforcement. Finally was the fact that they’d wisely stayed out of Freedom. Until now. A series of daring robberies in their signature over the top style had marked the arrival of the Dragon Saints to Freedom City. Tonight, Kerri was in town, with a number of old hands in tow. The latest chapter of the franchise was getting started. It was up to some heroes to put a stop to it.