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Monday 5th March, 2024 Freedom City Inside the Laboratory of Predator It was a day of no particular character. Temperature average, sunlight average, normal mix of mediocre impact news. The sun had risen, the clocks were ticking. It was mid morning. But Predators day was about to get real interesting. A knock on the door. the Camera's swivelled to scan the knocker. A man in his fifties, thick glasses, thick brown moustache, sweating (despite a tepid heat to the day), nervous, jittery. Wearing a courdrouy jacket and green turtleneck. Not colour coordinated, at all. But Predator reconised him. Dr Norris North! The head of WEST, the world exotic science taskforce, set up after various global calamaties to investigate and if necessary contain any science that might get out of hand. Dimensional, spatial, temporal distortions. Strange energies. Mutated viruses. They functioned under the auspices of the united nations, somewhat like the world health organisation, except with less funding. "Please! Let me in!" mumbled Doctor North into the speaker.

GM April 4th Rapa Nui, W.E.S.T Headquarters A light rain had greeted Dr North as the WEST plane landed. He was not in a good mood, and the tepid precipitation suited. Now he was in the reinforced WEST headquarters on Rapa Nui, affectionately known as EAST. There was the usual reports of threats across the globe on his desk. Most of these didn't pan out to anything serious, or needed only further management by the other local or world authorities. An Ebola outbreak in Africa. A mutated Crocodile in New Orleans. Metaphasic radiation in Freedom City. The normal. The major problem was the reappearance of Doctor Archeville. And the threat he may or may not pose. To Doctor Norris North's educated mind, Doctor Archeville was a net neutral. He could solve as many problems as he created. He could save as many lives as he created. He harboured no particular distrust of the man or the personality, or any particular warmth either. It was a situation that should be managed, and by his estimation that meant diplomacy and investigation. That meant W.E.S.T. The world was most keen for W.E.S.T. to keep a heavy eye on Doctor Archeville and his experiments. They wanted, as normal, the impossible. All he could do was meet them halfway. He felt, like normal, that he was playing an impossible game of chess with mysterious new pieces. In any case, he had requested Doctor Archeville meet him at EAST. He would have to size up the risks and benefits of the man. He hoped very very much it would be less of the former, more of the latter... But if there was a hazard, he was prepared. And he had asked Delta to be on site. In case they needed some heavy blasters...

GM April 23rd, 2019 Mid Afternoon... On a rather pleasant Spring day. The air was warm, the sun was bright, and the mood was reasonably pleasant. Agent Brock was in a good mood too. Largely because he was high on caffeine. Agent Brock was a short, squat man who looked like a thug, rather than a highly trained field agent of W.E.S.T. A Russian by origin, he was an expert on Artificial Intelligence. He sat in a t shirt and heans, supping his latte, in a rather expensive looking sports car, waiting for Replica. He was certainly one for the cassual, undercover lok, was Agent Brock. Even if he had a W.E.S.T. scanner and blaster in his glove compartment. Earlier on in the day, Replica had recieved an encrypted e mail from W.E.S.T. It came with no password, and was a devil to crack. But that was kind of the point. Director North knew very well that Replica was one of the few people who could crack it. Assistance Request! Replica, W.E.S.T. Is always grateful for your expertise, as you know. From that business with Darwin X, to the Russian mystery, and even that mess with the glass woman, you have always been a major asset in our mission. Thanks again. We would be most grateful if you could help us once more. Something seems to have gone wrong with a a medical AI project. Significant breakthroughs were reported, then significant glitches, and now four of the cheif develepors have gone missing. The FC police are investigating, but you can understand we are concerned that something else if going on. I say this delicately, but Artificial Intelligence is a potential threat - of course, we support its development as it is also a wonderful thing, but when incidents like this occur, we get concerned. Especially as we never quite got to the bottom of "the Russian problem". We have assigned Agent Brock to the case, and he has made some preliminary investigations. If you can make contact with him we would be, as always, grateful...

GM July 31st, Late Evening It was a hot, languid night, with hot, languid tempers lolling this way and that on the streets of Freedom City. The Docks were cooler, thank the Gods, with the sea air gently taking the dge of the heat. 'Twas here that the Scarab spied. Mind reading was a handy talent for a crime fighter. From street thugs to shady dealers, it got her the inside scoop on todays deal. A meeting. Someone from the underground villanous organisation, the Labyrinth ,was meeting an arms salesman. The nervous salesman had arrived by boat under cover of night. He was a small, twitchy man, with a North African look to him, and a thick beard. He might well appear to the ignorant or malicious, a terrorist from first glance. A reason indeed for him to be twitchy. He was waiting, twitching away, when a black sedan drove up beside him, and three much larger men got out. "What have you got?" "I...I...can't bring it here" said the North African man. "...I can't get it into the states. It's...unstable, you see? Risky...very risky...." The large men seemed distinctly unimpressed. "It's real, I tell you...look!" said the North African man, showing them a video clip on his phone. This made the large men much more impressed after they saw the clip...

GM Sept 1st, Redhill It was a moderate sized southern town that bathed in sunshine. It could feel too hot mid summer, but the blaze had cooled a little and the friendly Texan town was now enjoying great weather. It was not a remarkable town, except for its annual Barbeque championships, where the finest chefs of the South congregated to explore new flavours, meats, and flames. Do not be mislead - this was world class cuisine despite its narrow remit. And it was not even as narrow as one might imagine. The cooking blended in from around the world. Indonesian, Nepalese, and Thia flavours and recipes permeated the event, and every possible variation and twist on the theme was not only allowed, but encouraged. And of course, Queenie was there. Being hounded by Mr Vernon Salt, a man of immense girth and considerable sweat, who fancied himself the second best BBQ chef in Texas. And wanted to be the first. "Please, give me a pointer!" "Just a little hint!" "Show me how to do it!" and other refrains bubbled from his bubbly lips. This was pointed out by Ms. Samantha Pepper, agent of W.E.S.T, to Gossamer. "Thanks for coming, Ma'am" she said to Gossamer. "I know it was all a bit of a rush and you didn't get fully briefed" she started. "Doctor North requested your presence and probably gave you half the picture..." she added, almost apolegetically. Sam Pepper was a tall blond woman with clear blue eyes and a functional business suit. Her pretty face had a badly broken nose and her voice had a nasal quality. Texan, through and through, but educated, too. "World Exoctic Science Taskforce. Brand new. Logistical Nightmare. No official authority here" she explained. "But we have had some unusual chemical readings here. Nothing hazardous. Odd organic chemicals. We haven't had a chance to analyse properly, but the potential is there for self-replicating molecules. Grey Goo Scenario..."

GM August 30th 16:15 WEST has a small office just the other side of the street (or thereabouts). It was here that Replica came to see Dr Norris North who sat, pressing his temples, anxiety perfusing his sweat. The message had just said URGENT! VERY URGENT! "We have a serious problem" he muttered, not pleased with said problem. "I think we have a rogue AI. Some idiot hacker has taken the brakes off a traffic control system. We were already getting concerned about the experimental code in the quantum computer ASTRO labs installed there. Now it looks like the traffic is going,...well...mental...." he explained, not happy with his explanation. "WEST is meant to head off these threats before the brown stuff hits the fan" he said, dissapointed. "Now, we are against the clock. And I am thin, to say the best, on resources. I hope you can handle computers. Please tell me you can handle computers! You said you could handle computers!"

GM Doctor Norris North, director of W.E.S.T (World Exotic Science Taskforce) was nervous. His job of course required spinning a lot of plates, and he was not a nervous man by nature. But right now, he helped himself to a vodka. Just the one. For nerves. He was on board a Sea-plane which was descending to the cove of Dr Deoxies island. Hidden. Concealed. Remote. And by invitation. Still, even if he was invited, it was an island populated by dinousaurs and infused with radiation. He would be taking every precaution. Whilst the plane was being flown by the pilot (an experienced ex-US air force woman of stronger nerves than he), he pulled up the communication link to Doctor Deoxy. "Doctor? Doctor? Do you read me? This is North. Doctor Norris North, Director of W.E.S.T. Do we have your permission to land and...ah....where should we do so safely?" he asked, politely.