Star Harbor Nights

The 4B security agent escorted Allison at a brisk pace. She felt numb, drained. Under other circumstances she would have been paying close attention to her surroundings as she was lead through the unfamiliar—and potentially unfriendly—environment, but for now she was content to let herself be lead through a labyrinth of halls.
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Crescent Bay was a city of bright lights and big dreams. There were other “cape towns” in the world, other places that welcomed and celebrated the diversity of superbeings, but Crescent Bay was the city of super celebrity and mutant chic. Seemingly immune to the cultural backlash of the eighties and early nineties, the city’s de facto nobility included superpowered scientists, reality show stars, musicians, poets, politicians, and even restauranteurs… and of course, superheroes.
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In the interest of privacy, let us now turn our attention away from the two heroes whom we have been following thus far. Instead, let us cast our attention far, far back through the innumerable ages to the time before time, in the place before places.

In the beginning… as I have said… there was the Primordium. It was everything. It was nothing. It was male, and it was female. It was creation and destruction. It was at once completely at balance and in utter conflict with itself.
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“Won?” Ray repeated. “We won? I… we… I just killed him. Is that a win? I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t…”
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“Are you sure you wanna see it?” Ray asked Perfect, grinning roguishly. “Right here and right now?”
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The man who owned Broker’s Bar and Grill was, quite naturally, called Broker. As far as anybody knew, that was his only name. He was a stout, balding man with sharp gray eyes, thick jowls, and a black moustache that was better groomed than the rest of his body put together.
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“You weren’t kidding about the number of ’scofflaws’ in town,” Perfect said, looking about the crowded taproom of Broker’s Bar and Grill. It was the middle of the night, and though the outside of the building—a seemingly unremarkable sports bar in a decent part of Old City Center—gave every indication that it was closed, the interior was full of figures in capes, masks, and tights.
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Her ensemble would have stood out on a crowded daylit street or in a restaurant, but at night, to a casual glance or at a distance, she was just another person dressed in black. The lightweight outfit worked to her advantage when slipping through a dark alley or hiding in a shadowed doorway. It didn’t offer much physical protection, but it was an outfit she could move in.
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The TVs in the window were all turned on and blaring their sound. In another store, this would have been to show off their bright colors, crisp pictures, or superb sound quality. In Ernie’s Jewelry and Electronics, it was simply to prove that they worked.
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