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This used to be a nice neighborhood, Erin thought ruefully as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop in the Southside neighborhood, looking for the landmarks she'd marked on her map and getting the lay of the land. Some parts of it were still nice, but a lot of it was going to seed. Where she came from, most of it was a burnt-out ruin that had only been stopped by the freeway and the river, so at least it was better than that. It was good to keep low standards sometimes. In any case, she'd set herself the goal of getting familiar with the whole city before she applied to the Freedom League, and this was just one more step. From her perch above a shoe store, she suddenly caught sight of a man running down the sidewalk, looking as though his life depended upon his speed. Curious, Erin watched him, wondering exactly what was causing him to run like that. Victim, villain, or neither?

Saturday, October 30th 2010, 11:04 PM. Downtown, The Fens. With all the grace of an inebriated gazelle, Momentum bounced from rooftop to rooftop, nearly falling off the shabbier shingles in the Fens once or twice as he gazed down to street level from his lofty perch, street lamps the only indication of illumination below as he continued to feign his super-spy routine. It all started with the pre-Halloween party he had no business attending - but did so out of peer pressure anyway - when the young teen hero began hearing rumors of a ‘party after the party’ by some of the FDR High students in attendance. Chief amongst these impromptu informants from the party that Momentum had been interested in following was one of his own classmates by the name of Don Carson. It wouldn’t have even struck him as being all that weird were it not for the increase in Zombie Powder drug-related activity in the Midtown district by some gang calling themselves ‘The Red Devils,’ and Don – much to Ashley’s surprise – had suddenly begun sporting their colors, a clear sign of the influence from the Red Devils. After a bit of nosing around at the party proper, Noah discovered his hunch was right on the money with his assumption, solidifying the link between the party and increase in drugs at FDR High. It had to be some sort of recruitment drive… if not something more sinister! And so here he was, acting like an imitation ninja, spying on his classmates from on-high in an attempt to locate and crash the drug-fueled extravaganza. With each breath of the chilly autumn air Noah took, the small gaggle of party-goers continued on, oblivious to his presence. It wasn’t long until they reached their intended location; a dilapidated apartment complex devoid of working street lights in the heart of the Fens. The walls were heavily adorned with the tags of the Red Devils, and two large, burly Latino men in gang-affiliated bandanas stood guard by the front door of one of the ground floor apartments. Even from so far away, Momentum’s ears rang as the music from inside the two-story projects blared out, the bass no doubt shaking the solemn-looking foundation. Like some sort of paragonesque peeping tom, Noah watched as Don and the two rather intimidating men exchanged friendly greetings just before he and his small entourage entered the building, the brief opening of the door enough to send even louder resonations of obnoxiously loud music into the crisp October air. It looked like this was the right place. â€Not like I was having fun or anything...†Momentum noted sarcastically unto himself, taking a deep breath before descending to street level and beginning his stride towards the brutish gentlemen and their obvious hive of Zombie Powder-riddled shenanigans. The two men scoffed and laughed, unimpressed by the scrawny kid in the hoodie and goofy goggles sauntering their way. They wouldn’t be laughing much longer though. “What ‘chu ‘sposed to be?†the larger of the two men chided, pistols now in plain sight tucked in the front of their waists as Momentum grew closer. The pair of armed thugs seemed unusually calm – almost lucid – in their mannerisms as they halted the boy’s admittance into the loud auditorium beyond the brick apartment complex’s simple hollow-core door. “Maybe you’re here for the ‘party’? Wanna be part of los Diablos Rojos, holmes?†Momentum needed to be quick, the men armed to the teeth with handguns and sporting an intoxicated look in their eyes that made them seem even more intimidating beyond their various Voodoo trinkets gleaming in the florescent light. “Nuh uh.†the spunky little kineticist retorted somberly even as his protective bearer shimmered briefly into existence around his fragile little body, fist aglow with rippling red energy in preparation for the slugfest about to commence, a sense of fear lodged in his voice. This could be his only chance to catch the small apartment complex filled with ZP-dealers with their pants down, and an ample opportunity to reduce the Red Devils’ surplus in the process. There was no room for error. He wouldn’t blow it. He couldn’t blow it, or it might end up too late for some of the party-goers. “I’m here to crash it!â€