Terminal

While there were plans to make SG bases for both apartment complexes, unfortunately the RP died before I ever got around to taking a crack at them. The furthest I got into it was making an elevator lobby for the Christie Apartments.

Well, I did not know that and this is my first time hearing about it, so thank you. That said, maybe it should not be that way. Maybe I am still overthinking this and people will continue to just not take concealment at all. Maybe I just personally overvalue combat invisibility and assume everybody else will see and realize it is basically a must-have, especially if it is that easy to get. So maybe I am reacting to nothing. Even in light of what you are saying, I still think the change is a little too much, and still for the reasons I stated earlier.

But the thing is that is not full-blown combat invisibility. That is 'invisibility kind of as long as you keep moving at full-bore.' Super-speed by itself already grants full invisibility while in-motion, and combining hover with super-speed to 'slow-drift' invisibly past mobs has also been a thing for a long time. But nobody uses either of those tactics regularly, because on top of being iffy in efficacy, they are kind of hard to do all the time. Actual, true combat invisibility that just works with no strings attached requires a little bit more. Except here, where it is just a single power pick at level 4.

That is just the thing I was getting at by saying you currently have to go out of the way to build towards it. Right now, full combat invisibility for any AT requires taking stealth, or having a stealth power built-in one of your sets, and then a stealth travel IO. That is a requirement of at least two power picks and an enhancement slot, and a lot of builds will not have the wiggle room to leap for that. This is a single power, no enhancements required, available at level 4.

Well part of my concern is that while group/solos and the way they approach missions can and do use full stealth approaches, it is still something that people have to go out of the way to do. Pick up groups right now cannot reliably full-stealth a mission unless they have a person with invisibility run to the end and teleport them all there. This would change that basically. And another aspect of the problem was I think it devalues builds that already specialize in or have built-in stealth or full invisibility options. Like Cloak of Darkness for example. Moreover, now everybody can just freely experience the full stalker lifestyle from level 4 onwards. So what I am getting at is that full combat invisibility should, in my opinion, remain something you have to deliberately build towards/go out of the way to achieve. Both because I think the current 'feel' and way the game is played generally is better without full combat invisibility available to everyone from level 4, and also because it gives people who do go out of their way to build that way a benefit/way to stand out in a team setting. I am mostly coming at this from a weird psychological/way to play view, so some of what I am saying may not be entirely clear. I hope people get the gist of it though.

Alright, here goes. I have a big concern with the changes to the concealment pool. I like infiltration and its intended utility - that is fine as far as I am concerned. What I am actually fretting over is the change of stealth to full combat invisibility. I get the mentality behind the change - stealth and invisibility as separate powers are already highly redundant and nobody really takes invisibility except as an IO mule, but I think making full combat invisibility an open pool pick is a little too much. In particular I am now concerned about how the change is going to affect the solo and team dynamics/necessity and utility of stealth generally and overall. Right now, full teams not being able to reliably stealth past the entire body of a mission to just blitz the last room is what makes people have to actually slow down and play the game when they are not just farming. Even teams with supports that brought group stealth options like steamy mist cannot really reliably do it, but having full combat invisibility just dangling there in concealment as an open pick means you can have entire teams that can just ignore doing the entire mission, regardless of AT or the specific allocations of their builds. And then from a solo perspective, you have sort of the same thing going on. If you are running police and scanner missions or even if you are doing regular contact runs, people will eventually decide they do not want to bother 'grinding' through the normal content of a mission and just perfect stealth the whole thing. That is why just playing a stalker who can freely play that way from the very start of the game is such a focus/thematic shift in gameplay, and this sort of devalues that. I may be overthinking/sort of misplacing the point of this change. What I am mostly concerned over is the new stealth becoming sort of a new hasten. Everybody takes it because doing so instantly makes huge aspects of the game easier at minimal/no actual cost beyond having to pick the power itself. Only unlike with hasten, what is going to be impacted is not combat utility and efficacy, but just how people fundamentally play the game - or rather do not play the game. I just think keeping full combat invisibility exclusive to certain sets like Illusion and Stalkers etcetera is healthier for the solo/team dynamics of the game, and this move sorts of devalues the purpose of going *out of the way* to emphasize stealth capabilities in a build. Even though you can still get full combat invisibility on most ATs/builds currently, at least you still have to go out of the way to do it, it's something you have to dedicate multiple powers and build slots to. This change just reduces it to a single power pick at level 4. Am I making any sense here?

Just checking in before I actually start discussing something like this seriously, is it ok to discuss changes to the travel pools here that do not have anything to do with the actual movement/travel aspects?

A Talons of Vengeance Epic, based on the Oracles/Sybils. In-game, the Sybils use more or less player-scale-model compatible animations, and they have some uniquely interesting powers including summoning meteors, flow lightning, eruptions, etcetera. They also creeped into the Praetorian Storyline and sort of engulfed it starting in First Ward, so there's plenty of thematic/Goldside representation. I freely admit I have no idea how their sets would at all function or be balanced, I just really, really want an AT that can straight-up drop meteors on a fool. 👓

The Internet 1 New Message! To: Anonymous* From: Goldberg *The recipient of the email is Barghast.

The Internet Shortly after Tabitha had met with her mysterious, clandestine contact - the same group of 'enthusiasts' who had managed to crack the Family's ultimatam video analyzed and dissected Burned Feather's video. They posted their conclusions and data online on various forums - revealing that the entire video was an elaborate fake, using impressive CGI and visual editing. According to the video's embedded Metadata, it had not even been filmed in First Ward at all - but specifically in a wooded area of Talos Island where Devouring Earth in the distance would have lent to the authenticity of the video. The whole line of interest in the Praetorian Dagger of Jocas - which it now seemed likely to not even exist - had been an elaborate charade, made for some obscure and unknowable purpose. Elsewhere... Tabby Gets a Text Message Tabby would shortly receive a text message from an unlisted number. Burned Feather Video turned out to be a big fake. Check online. We no longer require your services. This device will cease functioning 30 seconds after you open this text message. As the mysterious contact promised - the prepaid phone, with a sad little popping noise, completely bricked itself 30 seconds later - the internal circuitry and memory both having burned themselves out, probably due to a failsafe installed on the phone by the contact's thumb drive.

King's Row Doctor Brayne Makes a New Acquaintance Brayne was not kept waiting long before an officer wearing an actual suit rather than a uniform came to meet him and invited him to their office - a Detective Freitag. "Look here doctor. It's not that we do not appreciate your offer - but you must also understand things work a bit differently here in the civilized world than out in the Etoiles. There are actual laws that matter. Amongst other things, the Police of any municipality are not allowed to broker deals or negotiate with criminals, or criminal organizations. It is, in fact, illegal. So forgive us if we don't exactly drown you in confetti and champagne for your generosity." Him pulling a pack of cigarettes out from his desk and offering one to Brayne was his indication that the conversation was not quite over. "Of course, what's illegal for the police isn't necessarily out of the question for the City itself. Have you considered offering your services to Mayor Morale's office? Because I won't deny, even though I hate your guts, we are in a position where we could use your help. And I also won't deny I would enjoy your inevitable betrayal since doing it here and now would be the best way to put you away forever. Your people have a way with the courts, but I doubt that will do you the same favors when the DA and Judges have 'guidance' right from the top to bury you."

Brickstown 20:00 Tabby Meets a Shady Character Tabby wasn't entirely sure she'd found the right place - the new phone wasn't nearly as feature-rich as her old one, so maybe she'd been doing something wrong. The location given seemed to be below the surface of a parking lot- it took her a few minutes to find the ramp leading down. A small sheltered area underground, full of trash, an old shopping cart, and a wall full of Freakshow Graffiti. She scanned over the area- the dim lighting wasn't a problem for her feline eyes, but she also blinked, trying to let her aura sight identify anything her eyes couldn't. With all the chaos at the zig so nearby, though, the air seemed to be full of artifacts clouding that sense. She hugged the wall and worked around the perimeter, wondering if she had gotten here before her contact. The question was answered when an electronically distorted voice asked her a piercing question she had been on the receiving end of too many times from all the wrong people. "Are those ears functional?" The voice came from nowhere Tabby could discern - the sound of it seemed to originate directly in front of her head, making it all the more disconcerting to process. The ears flattened almost immediately, but to Tabby's credit, she only took one step back before firing off, "When I get questions like that, I kinda wish they weren't," She said, crossing her arms defenseively. "I am asking for a reason. Do you know their exact frequency sensitivity range?" The voice seemed to have followed her short backpedal - it seemed to originate the exact same distance from her as before. "Not scientifically measured, no, but I can tell you that it goes higher than human. Those damn 'anti barking' ultrasonic things everyone's pointing at their neighbor's pets drive me friggin bonkers." "Then this may require some trial and error. Respond immediately if what you hear is painful or debilitating in any way." As soon as the voice finished speaking, the entire underground space filled with a haze of static-laden white noise - to a human it would have been barely audible. Tabby's ears remain folded down and she quickly moves her hands over them, shouting back, "It doesn't hurt, but it's a bit LOUD." "How's this?" The upper range of the white noise receded substantially. "Please do not shout, we do not need unwanted attention." "I can deal." she said a more sensible volume. "Sorry." "Why did you contact Burned Feather?" The voice asked her, its owner seemingly having decided that the time for cardial exchange was over. Tabby had prepared something snarky and clever for this moment, but she totally blanked. "The dagger of Jocas. Why else? I... um... work at the Midnighter archives." "The Midnighters tasked you with taking it from her?" The voice, synthetically garbled as it was, did not quite sound incredulous. Quite. "They didn't have to task me. It disappeared under my watch." "And the one Burned Feather claims to have is the Praetorian version, not the one you lost. I ask again. Why did you contact Burned Feather?" Tabby grew a little flustered at being so easily read, "Look, you know what the dagger of Jocas is- you know what it can do. Now there are suddenly TWO of them out in play at once? TWO? Double the hazard - Lord knows what's possible if they were to be brought together. It's not something I'd want on my conscience!" Well, Tabby hoped the disembodied voice knew what the dagger would do, because she speed-read that chapter. "What is your intent then? To steal the dagger from Burned Feather?" Tabitha's tail went from thrashing to curling around her leg. She really hadn't planned exactly what to do once she got in. "Maybe. Watch first. Assess the threat. Maybe Burned Feather won't be bringing the daggers together. Maybe I can just stay close and keep it safer. Maybe Burned Feather will need separated from the dagger. Not much you can get off a tiny video." Tabitha knew that mentioning her personal interest in the dagger up front may not go over well, but she also knew that sometimes a bit of truth helps cover lies. "Look, I was THIS CLOSE to a cure for my condition using the last dagger when it slipped away. Maybe I can continue my research with this one- maybe." "You would necessarily give the Dagger to the Midnighters for safekeeping while doing so." The distorted voice proposed - the statement had the air of a question. But it had not sounded inquisitive. "If that's where it's safest. I can't exactly keep it at my apartment." "Then you will suffice. We are requisitioning your assistance with tracking down Burned Feather, determining the veracity of her claims, and retrieving the Dagger if she does have it." The electronic distortion in the voice did nothing to mask the underlying confidence in its own statement. Tabitha did not like the tone- she got it- she didn't have much confidence in her own ability to bring this together, but she really didn't like hearing it from them. "So, why would I want to work with you here? I'm the one sticking my neck out. What do I get out of this 'requisition?'" "We will start with the carrots before using the sticks." The voice began - discouragingly. "The first reason - skipping over that as a hero you should be pleased to assist us in recovering the Dagger from the hands of a known Criminal and suspected murderer - is that if we are not the ones to recover it, it will almost certainly be either Longbow or else another criminal element that gains control of it. Do you want that?" This was probably first time that someone used the term "hero" to describe her- outside of her case worker. Catgirl, yes. Annoying little b**h, all the time. Hero? It had a nice ring to it, but it didn't ring true to her. *I'm just a college kid with a hair problem. How'd I get in this mess?* "Well, I was already planning on securing it and was waiting to judge the next steps from there. It's not like you're altering my plans too much, anyway. What do you bring to the table, besides high-tech acoustics and surveillance?" "We can eliminate Burned Feather if the worst comes to pass." The voice paused briefly. "By eliminate we mean apprehend, of course. We considered nullify but it sounded weird and mitigate would have been inaccurate." She thought about acting tough - some sort of posturing that she could handle that - but she probably couldn't pull off that with any confidence. It sounded like at the worst she had to gain access, grab, and run. That was probably for the best. "Ok, how do I get ahold of you?" "We will make a series of temporary accounts for your..." There was a substantial pause before the voice carried on. "...fan site. You may send us messages there through proxy accounts of your own, using a different account each time, and-" The voice went on like this for nearly a minute and a half. "Wonderful. More faceless trolls. You'll fit right in." "The disreputable nature of the site is to our advantage. It is not heavily monitored or policed by agencies also after the dagger. Like Longbow." The voice commented, though it was hard to tell how serious the speaker was being due to the distortion. "Ok, I take it I'm not going to get your name, then." "The less you know before this operation concludes, the more likely our chances of success. You will be able to be more honest if questioned - and have less to reveal to mind readers." The voice replied. *Mind readers!* Tabby hadn't even thought about the possibility - Praetoria had been known for its seers, and this was a Praetorian version of the dagger. A shiver caused her fur to ruffle in a wave, then settle. "Yeah, um... mind readers. Not a big fan of those." "Have you procured a new phone yet?" The voice asked abruptly. She tapped the shoulder-wallet that carried the ugly brick. "Just a prepaid burner, for now." "It will do. There is a thumb-drive in the trashbag over there. Insert it into the phone. Keep in touch with the email address Burned Feather sent out. We will monitor and advise." She dug through the trashbag searching fo the thumb drive, "Oh, and one more thing - the accounts you make on the Tabby Tracker - please don't post anything, and if you have to to establish cred, not anything humiliating... and if you win any free pizza coupons, they're mine." "We intend to contribute nothing but identical reposts to banned accounts." The voice offered. Another pause. "That may or may not involve humiliating content, but if it does, it will at least not be new." "Great." she mumbled, mostly to herself as she held up the now-found thumbdrive. "Well, there won't be any free pizzas out of this deal, then." Hooking the drive into the phone, she commented, "glad I went with the burner and not another high end phone. Pretty sure this'd void the warranty." The white noise in the background abruptly shut off. "I guess that means this is over." she shrugged, both relieved and disappointed. Her first real clandestine encounter. "I'm not exactly sure what I expected, but that wasn't it." She scanned around the area one more time for any sign of anyone, then slipped up the ramp.

Brickstown Tabby's Apartment Building 1700 Resting inside Tabby's apartment mailbox was the neatly folded box for the remote control car she had bought - along with the receipt, both weighed down inside with a rock. There was a message written in careful permanent marker on the back of the receipt itself. Do not panic/look around. Longbow following you. Longbow Captain/Tabby Tracker User was monitoring your phone. Knew about your new email. Want Dagger/Rogues, not afraid to make you collateral. Captain has been removed. Longbow still want to use you. We need to talk. Ditch current phone. Do not worry about being followed. Meet at 317.3 -31.5 2252.1 (Here in Brickstown)

Around the Same Time As Tabby... An Email Address @felesdelendaest To Burned Feather or whomever it may concern, I am Cato. I am an Elite leading a small but crack Warbands amongst the Warriors, by the command of our leader Odysseus. *We* like *your* style. You've clearly got the moves, the gift, the talent. And we've got a deal for you. You said you wanted a crew. Come to my address and show us all what you can do in person. Assuming that video wasn't all smoke and mirrors and you manage to humbly impress by wit of force, my band and I would be pleased to work with you for a hot minute. We serve the strongest side! Half my boys think you're just some dweeb from online who is halfway decent with photocut. If that's the case and you're in over you're head - we've got the goods to pump you up. Also Around the Same Time Another Email Address @temporaryaccount209541 -2667.9 10.5 2835.8

[A collaborative post by both CoGDork and Terminal.] Underneath Talos Island Shortly after the Warriors Left the Streets A Meeting between Bruce and a Sky Fall of the Tsoo The cavern where Bruce and his contact were to meet was, as they tended to be, dark and damp. Shining luminescent crystals were the only source of light within its depths, and the hero's innately suspicious associate lay there, waiting in the dark, concealed not only in shadow but by a haze of obscuring mists conjured with the aid of knowledge gifted to him by the ancestor spirits of the Tsoo. The subtle throb of ultralow soundwaves announced Bruce's arrival as he descended outside the cavern. Entering cautiously, he took out the phone and held it up before speaking to the seemingly empty cavern. "I got it, Silent Crane. You can cut the cloak and dagger crap now." The Tsoo swordsman stepped from his hiding spot. "It is not cloak and dagger." Silent Crane's voice brought with it a tension in the air, both in the figurative and literal sense - as one of the Sky Falls, his mere presence caused the air to ionize faintly. "For us, it is survival. Something a ngộ nghỉnh like you does not know...or appreciate. You have it. Let me see it." Bruce nodded in acknowledgement as he handed the phone over. "I appreciate it. I just happen to be feeling a little... impatient. I have a gut feeling that's been nagging at me, and the last few days haven't exactly been productive in finding out the truth. Good thing I know the right people." Silent Crane listened absently as he took the phone and examined its list of contacts - and after several moments of examination, nodded. "This will suffice." He pocketed the device in his trousers. "The Tsoo have known of the connection between the Hellions and the Warriors for some time now. The Hellions are frequent buyers of artifacts and magical items from them - but there is more to it than that." He spoke in a low tone, barely audibly from beyond where Bruce stood. "The Hellions themselves are but the unwitting servants of the quỷ. Demons. What I say to you now is not commonly known - the leader of the Warriors, the one you know as Odysseus, all the wealth he has ever known is due to the patronage of one of these beings. That is the link between the two. These fools do not conspire knowingly. They are moved as we would game pieces on a board." A sigh escaped Bruce's lips. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised that the Hellions and Warriors were puppets. But the one pulling the strings... any idea what their game is?" "The relationship between Odysseus and his patron has changed at times...so we believe. It is difficult to discern a devil's true designs at the best of times. Moreso when there is no clear aim to its actions over decades." Silent Crane answered. "We do not even know its name, or its nature. Even our knowledge of this patron is second-hand." "Damn," Bruce cursed, "Another dead end... but at least I know a connection exists. You sure there isn't anything else you can tell me?" "Just one thing. The Hellions and the Warriors - they have both been procuring large amounts of unusual items as of late. Items without great intrinsic value. Not technologically advanced, not magical. But what is worthless to us may have value to the quỷ. The timing is unusual - it suggests the fiends either have a sudden need of some sort...or are reacting to something else that has happened recently." Silent Crane's tone here held greater traces of uncertainty - as if he were simply speculating. As Silent Crane spoke, Bruce stroked his chin in thought. "Hm. I assumed the timing of recent events meant the Family was somehow working with the other two... but I didn't think of the obvious. Competition. Whatever the Family's goals were, their actions must have disrupted the goals of this demon somehow. Which means that the next step is to look for a connection from THAT angle... either the dagger they stole, or the hostages they took. I should also look into the sorts of things the Hellions and Warriors are gathering up and see if any of it has any connection to what the Family took..." Silent Crane gave Bruce a curious look. "Have you not seen the news lately, ngộ nghỉnh? The Family did not steal the dagger." Bruce looked up. "I missed that break. That's where I went wrong--I heard about the theft, and assumed the Family was involved since they were the only ones in all of this who seemed to be acting with any sort of clear plan in mind. Serves me right for not watching the news." "One supposes the captured Family could be lying, of course, but their lie would be a most peculiar one if so." Silent Crane elaborated. "They say that rogues from Vanguard infiltrated the Midnighter Club during their very own raid on it, and took the Dagger in the chaos." Bruce sighed again. "Damn, how many players does this game have? At this point I wouldn't be surprised if Nemesis had a role. Of course, that's always a safe assumption these days... hopefully I can find where this thread ends before someone else joins the party." "Then our business here is concluded." Silent Crane nodded ever-so-incrementally. "Until we meet again...as either friend or foe." He took a single step back into the swirling haze that had gathered behind him as he spoke, and vanished into its depths. As his contact disappeared, Bruce gave one last look at the darkness before turning to leave. "...Here's hoping 'friend'." With no more hesitation, Bruce left the cave and took off. He had work to do.

If Manticore was surprised when a Freakshow Super Stunner strolled into the PPD's command tent for the blockade, he did not show it. The Freak he had been expected. He did raise his eyebrow at the Circle of Thorns mage who silently seemed to drift in behind the Freak, almost unnoticeable despite his vibrant robes for all the clamor and raw energy his companion emanated with every step. The Freak began his introduction by turning to Swan and saying, "Hey little bird, I've got a special feeder mounted somewhere on my chassis. Maybe after this whole thing blows over you can take a few pecks to look for it, huh?" Swan bristled while the PPD liason nearly physically retched, and the Mage hurriedly spoke to try and move past the disastrous first impression. "...and I am Ruin Mage Appalos of Oranbega." He said as if the Freak had not just uttered the worst possible pickup line in history. "As our apparent erstwhile associate has demonstrated, we are a party of strange bedfellows - it would be best if we proceeded expeditiously so as to return to our own corners of this particular conflict." "Agreed." Everyone else in the room said almost simultaneously, much to the Freak Stunner's disappointment. "Getting right to it - the Freakshow, Dreck, has been planting sonic bombs all throughout the sector of sewers beneath the Zig, both indiscriminately and tactically. We have been sensing and dealing with the aftereffects of their repeated detonations down in Oranbega for several days now, and quite simply, he has to be stopped. If this continues, even our Ruin caste of mages will be unable to maintain the structural integrity of our city's supports. The whole sector will collapse, and take the prison with it." "And while few of us up in the big brick would cry too many tears over the thought of that, we do mind it happening while we are still stuck in it." The stunner added. "We can accommodate that. All you have to do is surrender and we can start evacuating you to other detention facil-" Swan began. "We would rather get crushed in sewage debris first." The stunner interrupted. "And before we get into the whole back'n'forth, I'll lead with the bit where we will start killing hostages if you don't pony up a plan to save the day. Upstart is expecting a strategy when I go back in to relay all this to him." "And though I am loathe to back up this brute's threats, I, too, have the safety of a City I am sworn to protect." Appalos added dryly. "If you do not supply us with an adequate plan, the Circle of Thorns will have no choice but to assault your blockade of the prison from without so as to enable Upstart to escape - thus depriving Dreck of motive to drop the prison on us, you understand." "As if we expected anything other than coercion and threats from lunatics like you two." Growled the Longbow Ballista seated at the situation table. "Rude." Appalos tutted. "It costs us all nothing to be polite, gentlemen - and woman." "I have a plan." Manticore said levelly after a brief, tension-filled pause. "But I do need some assurances of my own. What I have in mind will require precision and cooperation - so while we are attempting to save the prison, I need your word that none of you will attempt to escape and potentially jeopardize everyone." "Sure, whatever." The Freak Stunner answered. "You've got detente." "Good. Then here is my plan." Manticore gestured for the two to approach the situation table, and after adjusting the controls for its holographic interface, pulled up blueprints for the layout of the sewer sector beneath the Ziggurat. "This map is incomplete and out of date," Manticore began. "But it has enough fidelity for what we need. There's an easy way to keep Dreck out of the sewers. We are going to flood them. The entire sector." "Woah woah woah, hold up there kitten-man, you can't do that! I'm no big-shot engineer but even I know flooding the whole shebang will cause it to collapse anyway!" The Freak Stunner interjected. "Not necessarily..." Appalos said slowly. "As long as the flooding is controlled, and as long as my caste gets full cooperation and information on how this procedure is to be carried out...we can brace the integrity of the materials in the Earth enough to keep the sewers from collapsing too extensively due to pressure and overflow. It would be much, much easier to contain than hundreds of sonic bombs detonating." The Freak Stunner was still fuming - he opened his mouth to speak but then bit on his own tongue abruptly and just grumbled to himself. Manticore knew what the Freak was thinking - he was upset that the plan meant closing off the sewers as an escape route out of the Zig. He was probably already thinking about ways to get around it - and yes, the Freak's eyes had just reoriented to really start paying attention to the holographically projected map. "This plan is stupid and terrible." The Stunner declared. "Tell me more."

ZIGURSKY PENITENTIARY Upstart drifted into consciousness with an intense awareness that Dreck, the leader of the Freakshow, was speaking to him. Glancing around with bleary eyes, Upstart confirmed that, yes, he was still in the prison infirmary and Dreck was nowhere in sight. 'Ya can't get rid of me that easily, ya scrawny little shit.' Dreck growled, unseen. Upstart made a note that the sound of Dreck's voice seemed to be coming from somewhere approximately below the level of his own head, lying prone as he was on the medical gurney in the secured room. Upstart, concluding that he was high out of his mind on some kind of anesthetic or analgesic, decided to humor the voice. Free entertainment and diversion in the Zig were not things you passed up easily, especially when you had no limbs. "Been a while, friend." Upstart managed to croak out. "Th...think the las' time I saw you was in my dreams. You were...were smothering me with your hammer." Dreck laughed. 'Still the same pussy you always were. Now c'mon, get up, it's time we broke you out of that shitcan.' Upstart sighed, and winced as a phantom itch crossed the right arm he no longer had as he, in a moment of weariness, attempting to gesture plaintively. "Fuckin..." He licked his lips and tried again. "...In case ya hadn't noticed, friend, I'm not going anywhere since you put me here. Lost all my fingers and my toes and other things in that last hurrah of mine. What do you want me to do? Roll out of here?" 'Where there's a Will, there's a way. What if I told you, you have everything you need to turn this whole dump on its head?' "I'd say that sounds like you're trying to get me killed again. But since I am your captive audience, go ahead and tell me what I'm supposed to do exactly." Upstarted muttered. 'It's simple. In case you had forgotten, chump, you're UPSTART. You were like a fuckin' Messiah to us. All you have to do is start the ball rolling and every Freak and loser in the joint will follow you in tearing the whole system down.' "Funny thing is, I think my landlord knows that too. S'why I don't get any visitation privileges." Upstart was frowning, but Dreck's insane hallucinatory voice clearly seemed to be going somewhere. 'I never said it was gonna be easy ya little shit. Just that you have everything ya need.' "What, my tongue and my rapier wit?" 'More than that. Your big fat mouth is more than a mouth, man. It's made for more than chewin' and sucking dick. It's a tool. It's a weapon. You can use it to kill. You can use it to convert. All you need is the will to USE it.' Upstart mulled it over, and realized he was entirely too cognizant and coherent for Dreck's voice to be just a hallucination brought on by drugs. He could see everything, wasn't too worn up by what he now realized was post-surgery recovery, and wasn't seeing spots and stars flying around the room. "Who are you, really?" Upstart asked Dreck. 'I'm you man, obviously. A part of you at least. The part of you that knows The Will To Power.' Dreck answered. 'The world has changed while you've been under. Before, yeah, I admit it, the odds were a little long and against ya. But things are different now. You don't need anything but what you are to get everything you have ever wanted. All you need is to want it...and be willing to do anything and whatever you have to in order to get it. Act, and the world will listen, and it will reward.' "And why would it? It's filled with a bunch of asshole guards with jackboots who really want to beat me senseless and keep me in here." 'Ah, but they ain't you. They don't have the Will To Power. They're bit players. They don't matter because they're chicken shits who don't know what they want and are terrified of what they might have to do to get it.' "And I'm any different since you crushed all the life and dreams out of me, friend?" 'Ya know that ain't true. Your dreams are still yours. What ya lost was a limb or four and the nerve to realize that even now you still ain't powerless. This is me tellin' ya you have all the power in the world. Which is where we come to our turning point.' A bead of sweat formed on Upstart's brow. Nearby, the ECG machine monitoring his heartbeats started to show an uptick. 'You have a choice now. You can take the opportunity that I've laid out in front of you, and seize the fucking day like it's your whore, or you can decide to play the maimed cripple. And I promise you, if you thought your dreams were dead before - if you pass this chance up, your dreams will die once you leave this room.' A long moment passed. Upstart's heartrate continued to climb, and his breath started to catch. "Alright, what the hell. Not like I have anything else to lose here. Just one question before we do this, partner. What can I really call you?" 'Man, you just don't get it do you? I'm that little nugget of self-worth in you that rails against an uncaring universe. I am your Self-Conceit, the thing that drives you to make your Will come true." Upstart snorted. "You know what sort of gave it away you weren't really Dreck? You talk too damn much." And then Upstart's eyes rolled up and back in his head, and the ECG machine let out a shrill warning cry as his heartbeat began to oscillate like a ball bearing in a centrifuge. A flurry of panicked voices grew in proximity from outside the room, and the door into the private room burst open. A clinician and a nurse ran in and immediately pulled open a nearby set of draws, retrieving a number of instruments and rushing to attempt and resuscitate the dying supervillain. "No shocks, his cardiac muscles are resistant to electrical impulses. We'll just have to do this with oxygenation and CPR. How is his implant?" The clinician asked as he readied a canister of oxygen and a mask. "Functional and working, but readouts say there is tissue rejection of the right ventricular lead. The heart will bypass the dead tissue on its own but that will take two minutes he doesn't have." The nurse reported, his eyes darting over the diagnostic feed for Upstart's pacemaker as she unbuckled the restraints across Upstart's chest to clear its surface. "Fucking Freaks and Excelsior dependency..." The clinician muttered as he leaned over to begin strapping the oxygen mask to Upstart's face. The Nurse did not see precisely what happened next. She only heard the surprised, strangulated gasp of the clinician as Upstart abruptly regained consciousness and bit the man's throat out. She then promptly fell over as the flailing clinician's dying body flailed and collapsed into her, with Upstart hanging on to the man's throat and using the motion of his body to carry himself off of the medical gurney. The Nurse huffed in pain as she squirmed to try and get out from underneath the press of the twitching clinician as he died, only to find her breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening in existential terror as Upstart, his face and mouth a ruddy mess of viscera, loomed over her. He could barely move at all except by wiggling, but the orientation of his fall had put him in just the right spot. All he had to do to bite at her was crane his neck. And he did. The start of the Nurse's shriek was enveloped by Upstart's mouth as, in a completely unexpected turn, he kissed her full on the lips. In the moment of confusion and panic, the Nurse beat at Upstart's head, grabbed onto the side of his right ear and twisted, pulling off part of the lobe while also trying to shove Upstart off of her. Upstart broke the contact himself, pulling his head up and spitting a globule of blood from his mouth onto the floor as he then twisted to fall onto the floor back-first. "That was a hell of a thing..." He muttered as his eyes tracked across the ceiling, down the wall, and then locked onto the nurse as she extricated herself from under her colleague's corpse and pressed herself against the side of the gurney. His gaze settled on her identification tag, which displayed her name - Clarissa. "Alright Clarissa. I need you to answer a question for me." Upstart's voice was hoarse, practically uttered as a whisper. "Are there any other Freakshow in the infirmary right now?" With a look of utter bewilderment and disgust, the nurse - clearly somewhat to her own surprise - nodded vigorously. "And do any of them have a functioning set of legs and at least one arm?" She nodded again. "Then here is what needs to happen. You are going to go to them, free them of any restraints they have, and tell them Upstart is here in this room. They'll know what to do from there. Stay out of their way and come back here once you've done that." Trembling all over, the nurse rose to her feet and, wobbling all the way to the door back out of the room, went to do as she was told, her expression of utter bewilderment never crossing her face. She closed the door behind her as she left. "Whose blood is that?" Upstart heard from outside. There was a brief pause. "It's the patient's. He's stable right now, Doyle has it under control." Upstart chuckled faintly and began to hum an eerie, tuneless set of notes as he waited. No more than eight minutes later, he heard the first gunshot in the distance, and peals of manic laughter. He smiled and licked his lips again, and waited for his Kingdom to come to him. . . . The guards were able to close the gates, and the PPD Transcended were deployed to quash the riot. Everything went wrong. The Freakshow - malnourished, missing limbs and organs, with only weaponry stolen from the prison guards and few of whom had been rated higher than threat level 30 on average - should has been crushed by the premier metahuman suppression force of the PPD. But they did not break. Consumed with zealotry and suicidal fervor born out of fugue and nightmares, they met the Transcended in a clash and, impossibly, won. Kheldian light and quantum energies swerved around their targets unexpectedly. Inhuman physiology bolstered by Kheldian essence with enhanced strength and vigor was beaten and broken by men and women nearly ten times weaker than they were. Some primal, ineffable force flowed through and with the Freakshow as they stormed through the prison, unseen and unrealized by the myriad combatants - and as the defenders fell, the Freaks spread out and began to work their mayhem. As one of the few gangs used to jury-rigging and hot-wiring and cracking diverse kinds of hardware and systems, they were able to subvert enough of the security in the first few cell blocks to break out a small percentage of general population - and after that, the revolt swelled and became unstoppable as members of every villain group from all over Paragon City joined their ranks. Protocol was followed - blast doors were shuttered, knock-out gas was pumped through the ventilation, and both the PPD and Longbow began to assemble cordons outside of the Penitentiary proper. At first, these measures worked - the revolt seemed to stall and falter. The final turn occurred, though, when the Freakshow managed to penetrate into a maximum security zone and disabled the power suppression systems for the cells. Hundreds of vengeful and powerful metahuman prisoners stalked through the corridors like lions, and that was the end of PPD's efforts to contain the revolt. Flames and smoke rising from the Zig broke the horizon to meet the dawn, and the air itself trembled with the clamor of frenetic, shouting voices from within the Zig. Without, a series of nervous PPD and Longbow cordons received additional reinforcements and formed a full blockade around the prison - it looked like this was a full prison breach scenario, every bit as bad as when Arachnos had raided the penitentiary in 2006 - and they were the last line of defense. Both Manticore and Swan arrived near the impromptu headquarters for the blockade and listened grimly as a Longbow Captain anxiously relayed events to them. "We'ce already received radio communication from inside saying that the prisoners have, uh, taken most of the surviving prison staff prisoner." The Captain continued. "They have yet to issue any demands. We estimate conservatively that they likely have more than a thousand various civilian, prison, and PPD personnel held up in there." "And how many prisoners are we dealing with, exactly?" Swan asked. The Captain shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. It's impossible to run a formal census on the population in there. Too much turnover and, uh, throughput to put it delicately. Quite a lot though. We estimate perhaps as much as a fifth of the prison populace is comprised of metahumans with combat-ready powers. Most of the Penitentiary's vital systems have been comprised, between the Freakshow and various other tech groups in there they've even managed to worm their fingers into the system A.I.s. They've got full control over power, suppression systems, and deterrence-" "Captain!" A panicked cry came from the nearby radio station from its operator. "We've got a big problem! We have multiple mass-scale attacks in numerous zones!" "It will have to wait. The heroes of the city can handle it, we need our full attention here-" Manticore began. "Sir, you don't understand. I am getting reports that both City Hall and Portal Corp. have been attacked and seized! And I am getting reports that both Citadel and Luminary have been attacked and severely damaged in Talos Island-" The two heroes and Longbow Captain looked on incredulously as the radio operator carried on. "In short, uh...local PPD and other Freedom Corps. units are being tasked to handle things all over the place-" "...So no more reinforcements." Manticore said with an air of finality. The radio operator shook his head. "No sir. Whatever you've got planned to stop this revolt, you'd better do it fast. First Responders are all over the place and directionless right now - we've been hung out to dry around a nest of wasps." PARAGON CITY DAWN 6/12/20XX

STRIGA ISLAND "Ever since we were brought together under the Center's leadership, the aim of the Council has always been to dominate this world - his way, and to achieve his vision." Arakhn began, addressing the assembled leadership of the Council. Burkholder, Vandal, Maestro - and her compatriot Nosferatu, who she had already spoken with privately earlier. "He is no longer here with us, though he may return. The Purpose of this Council remains the same. It is a force that shall dominate the world. Though no longer simply to attain the Center's vision, and no longer abiding by his rules, his limits. The Center was always an opportunistic and shrewd tactician, but he was too soft. It is time we unfettered ourselves from his principles - from all principles of restraint. From here on, there is no measure too extreme. We will seize this world in a furor of power of dominance." "So you are suggesting we throw away all pretense of civility and just declare war on the entire world?" Maestro remarked dryly. "Somehow that sounds more like suicide than dominance. Not to bring speciesism into this, but are you speaking right now as the Supreme Commander of the Council, or as the leader of the Path of the Dark?" "Neither." Arakhn replied calmly, causing Maestro to raise an eyebrow. Burkholder, who had folded his arms and been frowning since the start of her address, finally leaned forward in his seat. Nosferatu still had the same savage grin on his face he normally sported when he knew something the others did not. Vandal, encased in his powered armor and the only member not seated at the gathering, simply stood tall and impassively as he listened, inscrutable as always. "Your concerns are valid. You fear that I intend to turn all of this world into nothing but a cattle pen for Humanity, presided over by the Nictus. But I must turn to the Center and his designs: He wanted to rule a world which was still dominated by Humans. I propose that true dominion cannot be limited by what species is in control. This world should be ruled by those who are unafraid of the measures and means necessary to achieve that rule." "You are beginning to sound," Vandal interjected gruffly, "quite a lot like Requiem...Lady Arakhn." Silence hung in the room as Arakhn turned to glare at the impassive, armored giant. "Do you know the story of the Science Lords of the Nictus, Vandal?" She asked suddenly. Vandal shrugged. "I know enough. The Kheldians kicked you all out for your treachery, lies, and lust for eternal life." "What you are conveniently forgetting, Vandal, is that the Kheldian civilization spans the breadth of an entire galactic federation." Arakhn retorted harshly, though she had assumed a more composed posture once more. "When we came here to Earth, it is true the only thing I cared about was eternal life and dominating the planet for the future of the Nictus. The fall of the 5th Column and negotiating with the Center was what made me realize that the Nictus are no longer in a position of inherent strength. There are harsh realities I have had to face since that day. The Nictus can no longer survive alone. Not here on Earth. Not in the greater cosmos. Requiem had to face those same truths, and in doing so, he abandoned everything but his own self-interest. I am not like Requiem. I have realized that in order to save the Nictus, we must abandon our insular philosophy of innate superiority. The entire world - Humans, Nictus, and all others who dwell here - must be brought to heel under one authority. Ours. Using any means necessary." "So you propose the best way to save your species is to treat them like tools and slaves just like everyone else? What a twist." Maestro quipped. "And tell me, how DO your fellow Nictus and Science Lords feel about that?" "The Path of the Dark and the Science Lords are a philosophy." Nosferatu finally said. "Not just a species. Ours is the desire for Eternal Life. We abandoned our original Kheldian bodies in that pursuit. We abandoned our status, our people, and our homes in that pursuit. What made you think we would have any lingering loyalty to our own kind? Arakhn has the right of it. Species do not matter. Only victory and power." "Which is why I am not speaking as your Supreme Commander or as the leader of the Path of the Dark." Arakhn continued. "I speak to you now as a Science Lord, and as the ruler of the New World Order that is to come - which shall conquer death itself, not only for ourselves, but for all beings who will submit." "A pretty sentiment, but I cannot help but notice all your immortality research to date has only benefited the Nictus." Maestro said once more. "More pertinently, I don't see how your words alone are going to win wars, Lady Arakhn." Burkholder said. "Ideals like yours are just delusions without the wit of force to make them reality. What, exactly, do you have that is going to make them possible?" "There are two answers to both your concerns. The first is that, now unfettered as we are, the Science Lords have more allies upon Earth than we realized. Kindred spirits. There is an ally who shares our same goal. Before, when the Center led us, their aid would have been unthinkable - unconscionable. But the Center is no longer with us. So now, I present to you all the newest member of our ranks - and the first Human Science Lord." Everyone turned to the blast-doors leading into the meeting chambers as, with a whir of motors and the grinding of bolts, the massive gateway opened. Immediately, the room was filled with the stench of rotting flesh, and the sound of buzzing flies. "Salutations." Dr. Demetrios Vasilikos said as he stepped into the light of the room, flanked by two Eidolons. Maestro immediately recoiled in unbridled horror, while Nosferatu simply chuckled and steepled his long, clawed hands together. Vandal remained as impassive as ever, only slightly turning his head to look in the newcomer's direction, while Burkholder - though his nose wrinkled with clear disgust - had fully leaned forward in their seat now. "I admit I was skeptical of your Lady Arakhn's pitch myself when I first heard it, but I have always admired the scientific rigor of your Council in their pursuit of power, and there is quite a lot even I still have yet to learn of the benefits of integrating Human physiology with Nictus essence. Not to mention being able to work out of a proper lab again instead of the sewers does have its appeal, ahahaha." "Dr. Vahzilok. Interesting. His work is not without its merits, Lady Arakhn," Vandal stated calmly, "But he is a butcher, and his creations have limited potency. How can he really serve us?" "My creations have such limited 'potency' as you call it, my cybernetic friend, is because I do not create life out of death solely for the purpose of warfare." Vahzilok chastised gently, wagging a finger as he approached the table. "I am a scientist, not a soldier. But afford me the raw materials necessary for my work, and a few keen minds willing to listen and learn, and access to your own research - I am certain I can produce something impressive for you." "Hm." Was Vandal's only reply. "I have obvious concerns about his priorities and reliability myself - but I cannot deny his talents, and I cannot deny that I can already think of uses for his creations...such as they are..." Burkholder announced. "Moreover, I do not believe it costs us anything substantial to at least see what he can do with the right materials." "Have all of you lost your minds?!?" Maestro shouted in anger, rising from his seat and slamming on the table with both hands. "This man is a deranged, psychotic, unhinged, delusional, grave-defiling sewer goblin. The instant the world learns we are harboring him there will be no respite! Any vestige of political independence we have will be scoured away, America will send cruise missiles and troop carriers in less than a day! What little public interest and outreach we have will evaporate! The Center would never tolerate this-" "The Center is not here, Maestro." Nosferatu practically hissed smugly from across the table. "Ah, and not to worry, nobody need know I am here. As far as anybody is aware, I have currently left the mainland to visit my disciple, the Facemaker, in the Etoiles once more." Vahzilok volunteered. "And so far as my field-workers and various colleagues out in the city, it is not as though I have instructed them to start wearing authoritarian insignia. By the time the jig is up, it will be far too late." "Too late? Too late for what?" Maestro demanded incredulously. "For this." Arakhn finally spoke again. She retrieved an object from underneath her seat as everyone turned to look at her once more, staring with measures of bewilderment as she set the Center's antique two-way radio on the table for them all to see. "This is how we are going to make the world submit to us..." STEEL CANYON "Here are those files you wanted, sir." Melchionni said respectfully to Sebastian as he handed the leader of the Family a set of manilla-sealed files - emblazoned prominently with the golden star of Praetoria. "Just sos ya know, those were not easy to get. Had to deal with that cruck-skinned freak from Cap au Diable for 'em." Sebastian did not say anything as took the files and immediately opened them. The remains of an entire bottle of scotch and two full ashtrays haunted the corners of Sebastian's desk, which was now crowded with an assortment of documents, either heaped in boxes or tied together with cord. At some point earlier in the day, Sebastian had even had his men bring in an extra monitor for his desktop - and then, in exasperation, also had them hook the large-screen TV mounted up on the wall to the desktop as well. The screens were filled with news reports of the Praetorian invasion - and also more confidential reports and security briefings on curious subjects such as the largely unreported counter-invasion, spearheaded by the Dream Doctor and leagues of incarnate heroes. "Melchionni. Brother." Sebastian said abruptly as the Consigliere turned to leave. Somewhat surprised, Melchionni turned, folding his hands behind him as he looked on expectantly. Sebastian would not have called him brother unless it was important. They shared no bond by birth, but by circumstance and shared turmoil. "How many of the Family do you think really actually care about all of it? Us, the whole shebang." Melchionni was puzzled, but decided to try and take it seriously. Sebastian was clearly deep into some nerve-wracking business and probably needed a serious answer. "I don't know about the buttons and the capos honestly, sir. Lotta piss and hot blood in them and not a lot else, mostly just backstabbing scumbags who like wearin' nice suits. You probably know that though. The Consiglieres are your true Family, but even Family is fickle. They'll die for you in calm weather while you're young. All bets would be off in a storm when you're old, and nobody is really indispensable. Not even you." Sebastian nodded at that. "What I figured. We'll have to change that if we're going to survive. Make something more outa our little Family." "I dunno sir, are you really sir it's such a good idea to rock the boat ideologically? We've got a good thing going right now, times are good for us." Melchionni cautioned. "There are." Sebastian nodded again. "But times are about to change. It's time to start thinking about survival. Not just us guys at the top, but everyone who really matters and who we can get in with us. Family." He sighed. "But it ain't going to work unless we know who we can rely on." Melchionni simply looked on, trying not to assume any kind of look. Sebastian fetched a pen, cleared a small spot out on his desk, and over the course of three minutes wrote out two letters in regular, practiced cursive. He folded them without signing or addressing them. "Give this one to Fawkes, tell him it's from the top and don't let him give you lip. Make sure he's got a fire under his ass." He handed the first letter over, which Melchionni dutifully tucked into his suit's inside-pocket. "Keep this one to yourself, and start meetin' with our friends. Show it to anybody you think is somebody we can count on to be more than just a friend to us. Don't worry too much if the wrong eyes see it, but make sure that all the right ones do." "You got it, sir." Melchionni replied dutifully before turning to leave the room. Sebastian looked back down at the files from the manilla folder and took a moment to set them down and light a new cigar. "Incarnate control." He muttered. "Cole really had no talent for gravitas in namin' anything important." TALOS ISLAND "Again, sir?" The pencil-pusher in the suit asked. "Not really sure what the point is. " Odysseus grumbled as he looked sourly down at the Tarot cards scattered across the table. "These things can't tell me my past, present, or future, as has been firmly established. I'm halfway convinced this deck is bunk and the fists are reacting to something else." The scrawny man shrugged. "There are a lot of different ways to read and interpret Tarot, sir. And that's us operating on the assumption this is even actually a Tarot deck. Like I said, it-" "Yeah yeah, only superficial similarities to the arcana." Odysseus waved him off irritably. "But really, I don't think we're doing ourselves any favors here. I'm just going to wait for Lukas to get back and see if our little 'experimental trial' did anything, and if not, I'm dumping this trash into my card shredder-" "Boss!" Odysseus' head jerked up as Lukas Morakis charged into the warehouse office panting for breath mere moments after having been named. "You are not going to believe what just happened!" . . . "You're serious." Odysseus said flatly, some time later in a more comfortable office while another warrior was stitching up a new gash Lukas had across his left leg. "As gravity, boss. We went to the place your guy told us to go based on what the cards said, and for a second there I thought we had been set up. Me and my men all turned a corner and walked right into Citadel and Luminary. We should be DONE, boss, rotting in the Zig right now." Lukas' hands were still visibly shaking even as he tried to settle comfortably into his chair. "You sure you didn't just have the numbers on them? How many warriors did you bring with you?" "Only me and three guys boss, none of them were Elites - and those two had BACKUP. They had Longbow Nullifiers with them. And I'm not trying to suck my own dick too hard over here, it's probably going to be on the evening news, that's just how crazy it got." "So let me get this straight...you and three other guys, and you're the only Elite there...walk into what was, for all intents and purposes, and ambush by Citadel and Luminary, plus some candy canes...and you won?" Odysseus look was distilled disbelief. "I mean it would be a stretch to call it winning? We beat the hell out of them and then booked it. I'll be honest boss, we all had the piss scared out of us and just hightailed it out of there the second we thought we could get away, but then when we got far enough away and had time to just...ya know...realize what had just happened...we beat the crud out of them. I don't think we made either of the bots have to trigger their 'porters, but we definitely put everybody else in the dirt. At first we thought they were screwing with us, you know, had thrown on purpose in order to follow us back - so me and another guy doubled back there to see what was going on. We really messed them up. There was scrap and circuitry all over the place and it was clear they had left, so me and the men looked around, and we saw crates with roman numerals on them - the same ones the cards showed us. So we hauled them all back here." Odysseus just stared. "So...Did you and the egghead figure anything out with the cards?" "No." Odysseus said. After a moment's consideration, he rose from his seat and pulled out his phone. "But this bears a little more experimentation. Are the men you brought with you still here?" "Yeah." Lukas said uncomfortably, repressing a wince as the medic started tying off the thread in his leg. "Alright. Let's put together a few extra warbands then, and have a little group reading. See if we can't get another miraculous fortune to come out in our favor. And bring those crates you found. We're going to get to the bottom of all of this..."

ZIGURSKY PENITENTIARY "My client needs a new pacemaker." "Well we got 'em by the truckload down in the prison infirmary." The Warden said in a deliberately casual tone as he leaned back in his chair. "Variety of makes and models suited for a number of heart conditions, just have your client fill out a medical request form next time we let him out." "First of all, I have already checked with the infirmary, and you do not have any pacemakers which are suited for my client's specific condition." The Public Attorney said with a tone of suppressed annoyance. "Second of all, I would again like to remind you that my client does not have limbs and so requires to meet with me in order to sign or fill out anything. And third, I am here to officially protest that you have been overdue to let Upstart out of his cell for the last ninty-six hours." "He'll be fine, his drip will make sure he won't die of starvation or thirst." The Warden treated the attorney to a callous smirk. "As for the pacemaker, it doesn't really matter if the models we have aren't a perfect fit for your precious snowflake. He'll have to make do." "Warden, Upstart has a particularly rare condition." The attorney began, while also reaching down to retrieve something unseen from his case. "Radiation exposure combined with regular use of particularly mutagenic blends of Excelsior have caused his cardiac muscles to become resistant to electrical stimuli, including from his own pacemaker nerves. He needs a pacemaker that can induce contractions without electrical stimuli." "I can't help but notice that he has unfortunately not yet dropped dead, meaning even if his heart is somehow resistant to electrical stimuli, clearly it's not a life-threatening condition. Request denied, counselor." The Warden dropped "This isn't a request, Warden, I have an injunction from the CoS stating that Upstart does require and will recei-" The Attorney began, finally pulling up and presenting the written order. "Get that shit out of my face." The Warden snarled, slapping the document away. "As Warden, I am empowered to make executive decisions as to the welfare of each prisoner where I have reasonable cause to believe that their actions will cause imminent danger to other inmates, prison staff, or create risk of flight or breach. The last time any Freak was allowed a custom-made medical device from outside the prison, they used it to escape. It was a colostomy bag, counselor." "If you do this, Warden, I am going to have to file sui-" The attorney began. "Go ahead Counselor, for all it's worth. I'm sure the DA will leap from their seat to cover the breaking case of Upstart being unfairly denied a custom pacemaker." The Warden interrupted him again. "And even if you could get your day in court, I would bury you in the merits. Then, in desperation, you can file a civil suite and I might even settle with you. But he's not getting his new death ray disguised as a medical device. I would rather pay out to you in the six years it would take your claim to clear than to allow that possibility." "Your CoS also said that he was going to resign if you overrode his authority again." The Attorney stated calmly after a brief pause. The Warden swore and snatched at the injunction again, this time to read it properly. After examining it for the better part of two minutes, he put it down and carefully smoothed it out before looking the Attorney dead in the eye. "Alright. We're doing this. But on a few conditions. First, Upstart's new pacemaker is not going to be custom made. It is going to be ordered as part of a set, so that we have them in stock and this does not come up again. All of them will be strenuously screened and tested for abnormalities and magic, and made and shipped using verified producers and logistics. The pacemaker he gets will be selected randomly from out of all of them. And it will come with a remote. As Upstart's Attorney, you will make it clear to him and sign a waiver on his behalf confirming that he is cognizant that we will switch the thing off if he tries to make a break for it and that we will not be liable for any condition that befalls him as a consequence if he decides to act stupid." "I'll see what I can do, Warden." The Attorney said dryly. ELSEWHERE IN THE PENETENTIARY "Hey Tempter, your request went through. You're meeting with your attorney bright and early tomorrow morning." A guard barked gruffly through the door-slit of Nick Pocker's cell. "Lookin' forward to it." Nick replied, grimacing as he made a conscientious effort not to open his eyes as he 'meditated.' Nick Pocker had picked up the habit of meditating since way back in the day. He also had made a habit of varying up his meditation routine, slightly, once in a while. His way of probing at what did and did not work in the cells. When Pandora's Box had still been in use, absolutely nothing had worked. But now that it was gone and the PPD had to tailor their containment measures to every individual in maximum security, more possibilities had opened up. Nick Pocker himself was marked as magic user and as having contact with extra-dimensional entities, and so his cell had a powerful antimagic power suppression system and dimensional grounding. No cantrips or demonic cavorting. But the PPD were still new and essentially rank amateurs at the power suppression game. For decades they had been content to just sit on their laurels and let a Cosmic Artifact do all the hard work for them. Now that they actually had to try, they brought excessive funding, brute force, and federal decision-making into the game - it had been inevitable that they would mess it up early on. Case in point - antimagic was never a wholesale affair. If magic was completely negated it in an area, every one out of five people were prone to having sudden heart attacks out of thin air. While Pandora's Box had always suppressed magical effects, it had never completely stamped them out. The antimagic field suppressing Nick Pocker's magic was the latest and most advanced system to come out of a series of federally funded research in systems that could safely suppress ongoing magical phenomenon without killing people and without discriminating against particular individuals, to reduce overhead and liability. Of course, since that meant the system had to work just as well on a Human as it did on an innately magical being such as a Circle Mage who was captured alive before they could abandon their own body, that meant it, by design, had built-in blind-spots. It could only suppress ongoing externalized magical effects - not internalized ones, such as the forces which kept an ancient Oranbegan body-snatcher anchored in their current host. On paper that did not matter since most spellcasting in general was externalized. The angry fourteen-thousand year old Oranbegan could not cast any spells, so surely the system worked. Nick Pocker was a well-behaved inmate. Not once during the entire tenure of his life-sentence in Zigursky Penetentiary had he ever been found trying to escape, participated in a riot as far as anybody knew, or been caught conspiring with other prisoners. He was unerringly polite to the guards and staff, and did as he was told. So, amongst other minor 'harmless' privileges, they let him have candles - thoroughly examined and disenchanted and run through antimagical fields - in his cell. For his meditation, which his court-appointed psychiatrist assured the prison was necessary to help regulate his longstanding behavioral issues with anger management and impulse control. One thing amongst many that a bunch of federally funded magical researchers and PPD analysts did not know was that there was at least one kind of demon that could shapeshift without using magic, as long as it stuck to only organic materials. Such as tallow. Which would not be warded against since it had to be explicitly signed for - invited in - multiple times to be shipped and received, and which the antimagic fields would not disrupt since the transformation and its own demonic nature were internalized magical qualities. Earlier that day, while unobserved, Nick Pocker had carved a small chunk out of the side of one of his candles - which was indistinguishable from all the others - and had eaten it. 'It will be here soon.' Nick Pocker's guest whispered in his mind. 'On the same day. Your minions will have precious little time.' 'And what is it exactly?' Nick Pocker asked. 'It can't be a tech weapon. Maybe something like you?' 'No. It will be an artifact of the higher cosmos. Like your Incarnate Artifacts. Your captors have no means by which to discern its true nature.' The sound of a burning forest was the voice of the alien presence in Nick Pocker's mind as it responded. 'Well great for Upstart. How do we take advantage of this?' 'There are more.' The burning forest said. 'Many more. If one knows where and how to look. We can show them to you...'

STRIGA ISLAND Arakhn, flanked by two Ascendants, swept into what had former been the Center's office. Now, it was hers - but all the trappings of Paolo Tirelli still littered the place. The room was filled with shabby, potted plants, and the lighting was dim with the overhead fixtures evidently not having been changed in years. Several mass-produced and cheaply framed paintings mounted in a slapdash fashion from the bare-earthern wall on one side of the room. The Center's desk itself was crowded by a number of pulp magazines that could have been found in any Dentist's office, and a small radio set was still playing some hazy and indistinct Italian song, interspersed by static. It was the office of a no-name, low-ranking Italian functionary. Exactly the way the Center had it decades past, and somehow, also exactly how he liked it. So he had confided in her the first time she had seen the office. Shaking her head in disbelief, Arakhn approaching the desk, planting both hands on its surface. "How did that man ever get anything done in here?" She wondered aloud. "He spent most of his time meeting with key personnel or else writing and responding to letters, Lady Arakhn." One of the Ascendants answered. "We have been attempting to persuade him to go electronic for years now, but he's always insisted that the most important work should be done physically or in person." "Well, that is going to be one of many things that is going to change around here. I am a Science Lord and the ruler of the Path of the Dark, not some bureaucrat lost in Nostalgia." Arakhn replied calmly, lifting up one of the magazines - a Consumerist Motor publication - and crumpling it in her fist. "Very good, Lady Arakhn. Should we have all of this disposed of?" "...No. It is still possible the Center will recover." She dropped the crushed magazine back onto the desktop. "I will have a new command office dug out and built in the next few days. But we should move any vital materials that are here somewhere more secure." She moved around the desk and opened the draws, whereupon she began handing off a number of items inside to one of the Ascendants, who in turn stored them into a secure carrying-case. The items included a number of fobs, launch keys, several hand-books filled with ciphers and codes, and a number of dossiers... ...And from near the back, Arakhn pulled out a gunmetal-green, antique cold-war era two-way hand radio. It was so bulky she could barely grip the whole thing comfortably. "What is this?" She asked. "I am not familiar with the item myself Lady Arakhn." One of the Ascendants answered. "But we were required to memorize every object kept in this room from a list. By the looks of it, that is the old hand-radio the Center kept as a memento. It is nonfunctional." No sooner had the Ascendant uttered the word, a stream of static spat out of the radio's speaker. "...It was listed as nonfunctional." The Ascendant immediately corrected. Arakhn stared at the radio's speaker as it continued to blare white noise, her expression obfuscated by her mask. "This area has hardened walls, shielding, and no signal repeaters. Who or what could be broadcasting that we would receive it in here, with this?" "Receive what, Lady Arakhn? It's just static." The Ascendant replied. If he was confused, he hid it well. Arakhn did not answer, and simply continued to stare at the speaker. It was not just static to her. She knew that voice. It was a voice she had not heard in centuries. The voice of her Science Lord Pedagogue. She had not seen them since they had fled their home galaxy. Behind her mask, her eyes narrowed as she reached down with her free hand and switched the radio's power button off. The voice from her past quieted. "Its battery may have been functional and jostled when I lifted it out. Send it with the rest of the items, I'll see about having it examined and fixed if there is any damage." "Yes, Lady Arakhn." The Ascendant replied dutifully, taking the radio from her and storing it with the rest of the items from the Center's desk.

STEEL CANYON "Haven't seen you since that business up in Astoria, Hill." David Odysseus Hill, wearing an immaculate suit, turned and treated Sebastian Frost to a winning and clearly practiced smile. "Not quite sure what you mean old sport. Last time I went to Astoria was in the 90s, and it was with both these lovely ladies here." He gestured to both Aphrodite and Peresphone, their arms glued to his shoulders and with red and white wine in their hands. The leader of the Family snorted derisively. Sebastian Frost towered over Odysseus by a whole foot. His worn features and white but full hair, complimented by his distinctive fine-white outfit, made him stand out at the party. "Don't play that way with me Hill, you weren't even wearin' a mask. There isn't anybody who doesn't know." "Nobody who matters who does not know, has to know whatever it is you're insinuating, Frost." Odysseus shot back. "But let's not talk about all that weird magic rubbish that was going on up there. Let's talk business. Pretty strange to see you at one of these affairs in person. Sort of outside your realm, isn't it?" Sebastian Frost looked down at Odysseus and his dazzling smile with such a stern look of contempt that the nearest group of partygoers immediately began to hurry to the opposite end of the room. "You know damn well why I'm here Hill." He said flatly. Odysseus shrugged. "I suppose I could hazard a guess, but really, I am not much of one for speculation. Not much of a thing in the antiquities business. Take that journal that's up for grabs - just for example." Odysseus gestured over to the nearby placard stand, covered in large glossy photos of numerous items with typed descriptions underneath. The photo he gestured to depicted a somewhat weathered, red leather-bound journal with a black ink stamp-mark on the front cover. Its description read, JOURNAL OF HARRY FROST Journal found in an older residence of the infamous Harry Frost shortly before its demolition. Marked with his personal seal (seen above). Due to the sensitive nature of this item, its contents (if any) have been neither confirmed nor perused. Bidding will begin at $300,000. "Possible piece of history right there. Very tempting. Very juicy." Odysseus drawled. "Of course, that's just the thing. I deal in antiquities, we don't shell out for 'maybes.' Even if that seal is authentic, what do you think the odds are the journal is just blank or filled with chicken scratch?" Sebastian Frost continued to stare hate at Odysseus as the smaller man took a pause to sip on the glass of white wine Aphrodite offered him. "But you know, it did occur to me, that a 'maybe' might be worth it if the item has any resale value." Odysseus carried on. "Especially if whatever is in there can be scanned and archived. If there were just the right buyer lined up, you know." "What do you want, Hill." Sebastian ground out. "I'm bidding on every other item at the auction. I want all of them. Cough up a quarter of what I spend to defray my costs and I'll make sure you're the only one bidding for the book, and you won't have to gamble on the outcome of a bidding war over it." Odysseus said, his expression suddenly serious. Sebastian's eyes narrowed. For a moment, neither man spoke, the air between them filled only by the ambient chatter of the other guests. "You don't care about most of this crap. You're also here for something specific." Sebastian said finally. Odysseus strategically said nothing, instead gesturing for Persephone to offer him her glass of red wine. "I'll pay three quarters of any one bid you make Hill. That's my only counter-offer. If you don't like it, we can settle this on the streets." Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his second sentence coming out only as a murmur. "You had me at my own name Frost. Glad we understand each other." Odysseus treated him to another well-practiced, lackadaisical smile and had his giggling cohorts perform an impromptu toast with their glasses between the two men. Later that Evening... Sebastian Frost gestured a deliberately casual hand-signal to his bodyguards, who stood to attention outside as he closed his private study door and settled into an armchair, placing the suitcase he has carried in with him on the table. He unlatched it, and carefully lifted the red leather-bound journal from its cushioned seating with something approaching reverent care. After adjusting the lights in the room with a remote, he opened the journal and immediately let out a long sigh of relief. The pages had writing on them. He flipped through the journal and began to frown. Quite a lot of writing, actually. And drawn symbols. Perturbing and unusual drawn symbols. Sebastian Frost spent the entire rest of the night reading the journal, until the sun had come back up. Elsewhere, Talos Island... "Another dead one huh, boss?" Lukas Morakis said, an evidently disappointed look on his face. "I was so certain this was it too." Odysseus snarled as the two men looked down at the ornate deck of Tarot cards. "The fists react to them." "But there's not anything magical about them. Just a regular Tarot set." Lukas paused. "Or an incarnate artifact and the Well is giving you the big thumbs down." Odysseus shook his head. "No. It's not a Well artifact. I'm certain of that. It was the first thing I thought of. Whatever this deck is, it's something new." Lukas shrugged. "You'd know better than me, boss. I suppose we could always call in the techies to look at it, maybe it's just a sufficiently advanced deck of Tarot cards." "I doubt that." Odysseus muttered, "But call them in anyway. Maybe the scientific method can show us something a little bit of divination can't."

A PARAGON NEWS NETWORK STORY! . . .late afternoon yesterday, the ancient god Prometheus appeared in Atlas Plaza in front of Paragon City Hall. The mythical figure was greeted by a formal reception that appeared to have been arranged in advance by the Mayor's office, and after a brief discussion, Prometheus was escorted inside. The Mayor's office has released a perfunctory statement indicating that Prometheus' arrival and his reception at City Hall were planned in advance between both parties, and that City Hall will not be releasing any formal announcements regarding the meeting. "Prometheus might be available for questions and interviews later, although that is of course his prerogative." Said Brighid Moreira, City Representative. Since then, Prometheus was seen periodically being led in and out of the Mayor Morale's office, concluding in a speculated final meeting at around 11:00 P.M. He has not remained on-location, and vanished in a burst of amaranthine flames when approached by reporters. "This will not be the first time that Prometheus has reached out to Humanity in this way." Said Azuria, a M.A.G.I. Seer who works at City Hall. "I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics, but he was instrumental to Primal Earth during the Praetorian War, and was involved in both the final battle against Mot and - more recently - assisted the ADTF with the now-averted crisis involving the Carnival of Shadows." When asked if Prometheus' sudden appearance, by inference of his recent actions, is indication that the world might be about to face yet another impending crisis, Azuria answered, "His meeting has been booked for over a month. I am confident the world and society as we know it are not at any unusual risk." ??? The Will to Power is a self-fulfilling prophecy. It is realized not within the mighty, for they know not. It does not appear before the wise, for they are bereft of influence. It is unseen by the complacent, for they are blinded. It is a destiny, self-realized, when the raw and unfettered font of the self knows what it desires and has the means and the will to seize it. These Humans have many proverbs which address this. "Bushido is Only Realized in the Presence of Death." Their capacity to attain greatness is best realized in finality. This failing is borne of the consequence of those who would reject the Will to Power. Those who possessed power and wisdom, but not the courage to see what lay before them, consumed with fear - mutilated the world itself by tamping the Flames of the Will. Not merely once, but time and time again. The world has become inured to the visions of these pathetic creatures. Even where they arise steeped in the Will itself, all is constant, unchanging in light of their grandiosity. This is a perversion of the natural order. This...is heresy. Heresy that shall be remedied. A Prerecorded Video A brief recorded video which seems to have been filmed in Paragon City hall has been circulating through all the media outlets in the city - and has made international news as well, though it is not receiving anywhere near the same attention as the recent debacle with the Carnival of Shadows. The video is simple and brief, running only a couple of minutes in length. Prometheus, standing at a comically small podium - the ancient god is an easy nine feet tall - is addressing the camera, still wearing his golden braces, sandals, and his turquoise tunic while brimming with otherworldly ethereal flames. "People of the world - You know me as the god Prometheus, who stole power from the gods and gave it to Humanity. What you do not know is that since the days when this world was young, I was here, and that since that time until now, it has been my duty to oversee the cultivation of this world as a caretaker. I come before you now to make a formal announcement required of me in the course of my duties as this world's caretaker. In bygone times, what you are about to hear would be reserved for the ears of gods, emperors and kings alone. Those days have passed however, and in my judgement it is the public at large to which my announcement must be made. It is thus: In approximately two days time from when this announcements airs, our world and its various alternate iterations will all be visited by another being, much like me. Another caretaker, of sorts. Their duty, much like mine, is one of cultivation. They will assess our world and sow within it foreign and exotic fonts of power meant to diversify and promote its cultivation overall. That is all my duty requires me to inform you of. I will also add for the sake of deterring panic that this visitation - in and of itself - does not and will not pose any risk to Human society at large, nor will it imperil the planet or existence as we know it. Indeed, almost none of you will even notice the effects of the visitor's presence. For the sake of comparison, you may envision their activity as akin to the opening of Pandora's Box by your Marcus Cole - albeit, with drastically less potent effects and consequences. My duty to inform you of the visitor's arrival is now concluded." Speculation as to the greater meaning behind Prometheus' vague and obtuse portent is rampant in the news, the streets, and online. Mystics and scientists alike have entered furious debates, theorizing and guessing at possible ramifications of the 'visitor' arriving on Earth. Other, more organized and militant powers plan and scheme as to how to identify the visitor and any changes they make, as well as how to take advantage of their arrival. Prometheus has not been seen again since the announcement, and Paragon City Hall has not released any additional statements. ZIGURSKY PENETENTIARY "Alright, open her up." The Warden of Zigursky Penitentiary, accompanied by Blue Steel and a number of select PPD Officers, stood in a control room deep underground, beneath the foundations of the prison itself. The area had been sealed during the incident with Nemesis and his scheme to use the Antikythera to dominate Paragon City. Now that things were finally approaching some level of normalcy once more, it was time to survey the damage and see what could be done. The Warden and Blue Steel watched as two engineers worked at the maintenance hatch for the sealed blast-door for several minutes before, with a barked warning, they made the gated aperture open to reveal the large, still, silent chamber within - and its centerpiece. The opened and silent Pandora's Box. "Somehow I don't think just closing it back up is going to fix any of our problems..." The Warden murmured. "Even I didn't know about this. This is obscene. Is there even anybody on the planet who knows how this all worked?" Blue Steel asked reproachfully. "Gods and Monsters, child." An airy and feminine voice lilted from behind him. With a start, he turned. Three women, wearing long flowing robes and seeming to drift across the ground, swept past him. Their features were sculpted, their expressions serene but stern. "What are they doing here?" Blue Steel demanded flatly. "They're the only people we have a line with who know how it worked." The Warden replied. "They're the experts. I invited them." "The artifice of Zeus is finally come undone." One of the women spoke as the three women surrounded Pandora's Box. "There is nothing left here. All that was held therein is absent." "Even the power of Zeus is gone. This is simply an empty coffer now." "So we should just get rid of it then?" The Warden inquired. The three women shared a look before one of them replied. "Keep ahold of it here. There may yet be a need for it again soon." "No mysticism here please. Explain in clear terms." Blue Steel demanded. The three women all spoke in turn. "A deterrent against transcendence." "A means to imprison what resides within, without." "A way to thwart upheaval and cataclysm borne of a change in spirit." "That is both unhelpful and unclear. If you three want us to keep this box in here on the City's dime, it had better be for a good reason." Blue Steel barked. "We would have protected you, little champion." One of the three said. "Very well. Pay heed. What do you know of our Well of Furies?" STRIGA ISLAND The Cor Leonis Archon who served as captain for the Striga Isle checkpoint - now substantially more ramshackle after the massive detonation set off by Calvin Scott - threw a hurried and panicked salute as he realized precisely who was approaching his station unannounced. Arakhn, leader of the Path of the Dark - one of the dreaded Science Lords of the Nictus - had finally returned after going missing during her ill-fated attack upon both the Freedom Phalanx and the New Praetorians. Her already questionably arranged uniform was in disarray and her body covered with many still obviously recovering injuries, but it was she in the flesh. Few other people could project such unbridled rage with their looks alone. "Ma'am. We were not expecting your arrival. Is there anything you require?" Thinking quickly, he then remembered to add, "Be aware your quarters had to be moved due to a shift in lava flows. Calvin Scott betrayed us and nearly blew up the entire volcano." "I need to speak with The Center immediately." She answered darkly. "Of course ma'am. He's been sequestered ever since the attack but I'll see to it that you're conveyed immediately." He then executed a number of memorized hand-signals to his squad, and the checkpoint became a hive of activity as additional guards poured in to secure the area while a truck arrived to transport the leader of the Nictus. Maestro himself was waiting for her when she stepped up into the back. "The Center has not been seeing anybody since the attack. Not even me. Only the Ascendants who were on rotation have been in or out of the deep site." "I do not care. I will see him." Arakhn snarled. "Arakhn. You can't see him. And there's something important we have to d-" "It was not a request. There is nothing you can say to me of any greater import than what I have to discuss with him. There is nothing you can do to stop me from seeing him. There is nothing anybody can do to stop me." Maestro waited for her to finish with an uncharacteristically somber expression - the man was infamous for his sharp tongue and off-the-sleeve witticisms, but he seemed almost mournful now. "Arakhn. Everyone is being convened. You arrived just in time. Nosferatu, Vandal, Burkholder. You can't see The Center...Because he went into a coma three weeks ago." The leaden silence that hung between the two archvillains was broken only by the sound of the truck's engine revving up as it pulled out and away from the checkpoint. "How is this possible-" Arakhn practically whispered. "We're not sure. The Ascendant Guard are keeping their cards very close to the chest right now. The doctors they have let in and out have said that he is in a stable condition and that he is in perfect health for his age. They have requested examination by a few mystically inclined experts just to make sure he hasn't been cursed or the like, because as far as anybody can tell there is absolutely nothing wrong with him other than being a vegetable." Another bout of silence, broken only by the dull thuds of the truck rolling over lowered spike-bollards and road-bumps. "Have any of the others...tried to exert themselves?" "No. For the moment, unless any of the others press something - you are now officially the acting Supreme Commander of the Council...Lady Arakhn." ZIGURSKY PENETENTIARY "Absolutely not." Zigursky Penitentiary's warden stubbed the end of a nearly finished cigar in an ashtray, knocking the burnt excess off the tip before raising the smoldering remnant back to his lips. "He's too much of a flight risk." "My client doesn't even have any limbs, thanks to you, and he's been a model prisoner -" A clearly frustrated public attorney began. "On account of not having limbs." The warden muttered, puffing gently on the slim remnant of his habit. "...And he has absolutely no powers anyway. You can't possibly continue to justify keeping him in fortified maximum security now that you're having to tailor power suppression per inmate." The attorney carried on. "Before when the previous power suppression system was online it made sense to keep all the special cases in one basket, but with it go-" "That's a stupid line of reasoning. A supervillain is a supervillain, no limbs and no powers or otherwise." The Warden withdrew the nearly exhausted stub and exhaled. On their last leg, the attorney pressed on. "Please, you yourself admitted you can't even come up with any special containment measures for him. What possible trouble could he get into in gen-" "I don't intend to find out. You're done making your case for today, counselor." The Warden said, dropping the dead heel of the cigar into the ash-tray. "Even if I were inclined to listen to your points, he's still got an army of Freaks working to bust him out on the regular. Upstart stays where he is." As the last embers of the Warden's cigar burnt out, Nick Pocker's trance ended, and he rubbed his temples out of habit. He stared through the narrow slit of his cell door and watched as the utterly immobile and prone Upstart was wheeled back into his own cell on a gurney, his parole interview concluded. Their gazes met, briefly, and Upstart's eyes flashed conspiratorially. Nick whistled innocently as he turned away. Had it been up to Nick, Upstart would have been moved into even higher security. Nick had an eye for schemes - and Upstart was getting more observant and mouthier by the day, even for a would-be Messianic cult figure. The way Nick figured it, the Torso-Freak was up to something - and it was going to catch everybody by surprise when he finally sprung whatever it was. Everyone but Nick Pocker, anyway. He resolved to call his lawyer next time they let him out. It was getting time to make sure he had men in place when the time came...

SELF-CONCEIT A Community Story Arc on the Everlasting Server

GMs being able to hand out costume powers - either permanent or temporary - so people can more reliably impersonate certain NPCs would be helpful. What would also be helpful is if GMs could hand out temporary powers in general. Things such as the 'Iron Blade' or 'Coral Hammer' temporary powers for example (for additional aesthetic/cosmetic effect in certain cases). This one is a bit extreme - but we know GMs can already alter the time of day in-zone as well as possibly trigger certain invasion event atmospherics. If it were possible for GMs to occasionally change the SKYBOX as well for certain events, that would be spectacular. Like a Shadow Shard arc ending with a mission where the Shadow Shard is about to overlap/merge with Primal Earth for example.

Vankbliss audibly swore aloud as the two uniformed police officers came rushing out of the Christie Apartments. Vankbliss was a known junior member of Vaunt's gang - a known quantity. And there was no way that most of the cops from down at the KWPD didn't have his charming mug memorized from the picture of it posted on their information board. Not that they could actually take him in - given he was not presently wanted for any crimes. As long as he played nice civilian, they wouldn't have any reason to arrest him. "Officers! You have to hurry! That poor Pizza Cat was just set on fire a second ago by Flambeaux! She took off when she realized you were coming." He gestured to the corner of the large concrete divider that separated the main street from the Apartment plaza and parking lot "She took off down that way - you'd better get a handle on her before she starts causing more trouble somewhere else!" He hesitated, then kept going. "Or...if you can't leave here for some reason, at least put out the alarm! She allegedly owes this pizza cat money, but it seemed she was more interested in trying to burn her down than pay it off.