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(GM Post) December 7th, 2023, Evening, WCZA Station WELCOME BACK! YOU'RE WATCHING FREEDOM CITY'S FLAGSHIP NEWS SHOW THE BRAND REPORT Starring....BUDDY BRAND TONIGHT'S GUEST: State Senator Phillip Fredrickson A year ago- and for the 15 years before that- Phillip Fredrickson was one of the most prolific voices in the New Jersey State Senate for Superhero and meta-human registration. An old, stately looking man in his late 60s, Phillip had been a consistent crusader for believing that the world would be safer if meta-humans and Superheroes were registered in the government, and that New Jersey, as host to Freedom City, could be the world’s first example of doing something like that ‘the right way’. That had changed suddenly. Phillip’s granddaughter, Gabriela, had developed a meta-human ability. And in return, he had come to realize his mistakes and his incorrect beliefs, now that his skin was in the game- so to speak-, he had come to change his tune. He was now pushing for expanded care for meta-human children without requiring a sign-up or a registration, support for any family who had a young child who suddenly had meta-human abilities appear- counseling for parent and child, training on power control and any unique materials they needed to manage their powers. However, changing one's opinions was often a moment of danger for a politician, even when the reasons were good and the person was staunch in both their explanations and in all their other beliefs; Fredrickson had not changed any other position he held, and was clear that was always going to be the case, but he was changing a significant cornerstone of his campaign and his personal code, which was a negative to many people. His support had cratered, his political capital was in shreds, and what had been a solid re-election campaign was now in crisis as he attempted to right a sinking ship. Despite this, he refused to back down from his changed position, and was clear that even if it cost him the election, he wasn't going to change his tune; he loved his granddaughter, and he realized that all meta-humans were someone's grandchild, and that they deserved as much help as they could. His campaign staff had put him on Buddy's show to hopefully let the people see that while he may of changed his opinions, he was still the strong willed man he'd always been, who kept his word and worked for his constituency. The old man had a stately dignity to him even in crisis and at the risk of losing his seat; his hair was gray and thinning but worn in a close cut. His suit was nice and his blue tie added a splash of color where it was needed. He answered questions posed by Buddy with a firm voice that didn't waver, even when he was asked tough questions. He was calm under pressure and respectful to his host. But everything changed during a commercial break. An aide ran up to him with a cellphone, whispered something in his ear, and then gave him the phone. "Hello?" He asked. Then he listened. For a full minute, Buddy could see his face getting paler and paler. The old man swallowed, and he suddenly looked much less vigorous. He looked, truthfully, like a scared old man. He looked at Buddy with eyes that showed a deep sorrow; something terrible was on that phone call. His voice wasn't strong anymore, it trembled and he looked almost like he was going to burst into tears. "I'm sorry...I don't know that I can continue this interview...something serious has come up."

GM Friday, December 17th 7PM Riverside The Benedict Sans Office Tower 25th Floor The Benedict Sans Officer Tower was a newer addition to the Riverside skyline. It towered over its neighbors as an collection of office floors. Importers liked its proximity to the river and as did start up tech firms like to distinguish themselves from their Hanover counterparts. Representatives from numerous technological and import companies, both local and from outside the city, gathered for a pre-holiday party at the offices of Dumass and Prude Imports. The offices occupy most of the 25th floor. Networking and deal-making was done under the veil of festive cheer. Everyone knew the party was a thinly disguised ploy at gaining favor with key companies. Everything was going fine. Champagne flowed, hors d’oeuvres were nibbled, and schmoozing abound through out the large room where the party was being held. Offices lined two walls of the party room, while floor to ceiling widows encompassed the exterior wall, overlooking the courtyard and offering a magnificent view of the river in the distance. Suddenly, gunfire pierces the evening cheer as armed goons dressed in black stand aside from the open doors of the party room. Five men, one a large man with a thick red mustache and bear paws for hands, another scrawny man with large fly-like wings, bug eyes and arms. A bald, heavyset man in wrestling pants and a long grey/black hair man with glowing eyes flanked them. Finally, another man, obviously younger then the others stood to one side, with a drawn out nose and mouth that gave him a shark like resemblance to match the sharp white teeth his grin shows off. The red-haired man steps forward and spoke up. “Listen here ya prissy, walking checkbooks. This here’s a robbery, you’re gonna cough up whatcha got while we rummage through your offices for pretties, or I’ll know why.” “Now see here!” An older man in a expensive suit steps forward from the terrified guests. Mr. Russell Dumass. The co-owner of Dumass and Pride Imports and the man hosting the party. “You would do well to leave before you face trouble.” Mr. Dumass glanced over at large, suited man with an earpiece and nodded. As if on cue the man and several others around the room draw pistols on the intruders. The party crashers laugh as the armed guards aim there weapons at them in return. The black clad goons aimed small assault rifles and the tension in the room thickened until the red-haired man raised a bear paw of a hand and the goons relaxed some. What happened next was swift and vicious. Four of the men moved with purpose while the one with glowing eyes simply watched. The guards quickly fell under the assault of the villains. Some knock unconscious while others were less fortunate. With the shark faced man being the least restrained. The man he took a bite out of bled profusely and this seemed to only drive him into a frenzy. The other villains only watched as the shark man bite the man over and over until in a rage he picked the bloodied guard up like a rag doll and tossed him through one of the floor to ceiling widows to have him land in a blood mess in the building’s courtyard 25 floors below. The speed and ferocity of the attack cowed any further resistance in the crowd as they began to comply with the men and their goons. Satchel carrying goons began to move through the crowd as the villains regrouped. They spoke in hushed tones before splitting up. The bald villain in wrestling pants and boots took several goons and left the party room as the bear-handed man turned his attention to Mr. Dumass. “You.” He commanded. “Your office, now.” The frighten businessman followed the command and lead the villain into his office. The villain closing the door behind him for privacy. The remaining three villains watched the goons moving through the party guests like vultures waiting on their next meal.

GM DeCosta Construction Site, corner of Shelley and O'Donnel August 30th 8:30 PM The invite had gone out online, on all kinds of different sites. A few local news sources had even reported on it, though few had taken it seriously. Posted all over walls around Southside. The exact wording was different, but the intent was quite clear: The Contenders, a group of old 80's and 90's villains, and they'd gone mad at Facsimile. They never said why, aside from wanting to take him down a peg. They were gonna show the world that they still had it, that they could fight one of the brand new heroes of the modern day. Meet them at the DeCosta Construction site, or they'd find him and take out wherever he lived. If anyone else tried to interfere, they would blow up a nearby school. Easy, right? Quite a number people had gathered around the makeshift ring that had been set up in the middle of the construction site, though they all kept a good distance from the five men by the ring. Four of them were all obviously past their prime, but otherwise, they didn't share much in terms of looks. Heavyweight, a large, overweight man with drooping features, like his entire face was being pulled down, clad only in red and blue pants and boots. Fly-Boy, a grotesque creature, a man with the eyes of a fly, barbs on his long, thin arms and fly-like wings. He was dressed in a yellow and red one piece costume. The third, TKO, looked normal, with long black hair with some specks of grey, dressed in a grey dress shirt and black slacks. He looked around at the crowds with a smirk. The fourth was Bear-Knuckle. A large, powerfully built man. Balding, but with long brown hair and a large moustache. From around his shoulders, his arms looked like those of a bear. Where TKO's grin was one of amusement, his held far darker intent. The fifth and final was a young man in his early twenties, sitting by a table with a laptop. "About time, right? Think he's gonna show?" TKO asked, while looking at the crowd. Bear-Knuckle's grin widened. "Sure. If not, there's always all of these kids to play with."

OOC for this. @Exaccus