Gizmo
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Jill placed one hand horizontally atop the other to form a T shape. "Woah there, Baby Bumblebee, back up. Something was talking to you?" The medic left out a rebuke for the armored teen's failure to mention his encounter sooner. Irritable though she was feeling, it had become clear pretty quickly that the severity of the situation had Beekeeper despondent enough to make reprimanding him akin to beating a dead horse. "Like on your radio or telepathically or physically there or what?" She looked around the rest of the group to see if anyone else understood the significance. "Okay, we're agreed that our host was planning on us going medieval on each other, right? Scooping up the city was a pretty drastic Plan B, so if somebody was goading Tin Can Stan it was probably the management speaking. If we can figure out why the Curator wanted us here, we can figure out how to ram his plan so far up his probe hole he'll be able to taste it." Pausing for a moment, she folded her arms and let out a short breath with enough force to jostle her bangs. "So I don't like being kidnapped by aliens. Call it a pet peeve."
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"Yes, okay, that sounds awesome. Do science to it," Jack agreed, pointing encouragingly as Geckoman boarded his ship. "The fact he puts that parachute on immediately is really damaging my confidence in this plan," he admitted to the women on the rooftop once the bright green hero was off. "We gotta talk to somebody about getting some trees planted around here. Some greenery, some shade, some giant robot restraining material. If that's not urban renewal, I don't know what is." There was some tension in his voice as he put one foot on the edge of the rooftop, keeping an eye on the raised bus. He trusted Chris to deal with any impromptu projectiles but he didn't like watching and waiting in the meantime. "Encouraged to stop breathing, maybe," Jill muttered into her cellphone before hanging up and scanning the sky for Dragonfly's approach. One of her hands lit up with the crackling blue light that meant she was preparing a force field while the other clenched and unclenched irritably as she waited for the situation to predictably spiral out of control.
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--You'll like him; stands up for little people,-- Trevor told Eve, using a deadpan which had taken practice to achieve telepathically. --Grandson of the Legionnaire, from the war.-- There really wasn't any need to specify which one to the young woman carrying on a mantle of her own, even without the added clarity of their mental link. --Strong, tough, level headed, hates Nazis. Good man.-- "Not secret from Annihilists," Midnight pointed out aloud simultaneously, eyes narrowing behind his featureless mask. His challenge to the armies of the Terminus after their victory against Martinet and her forces had almost literally been asking for further reprisals. "Need information, not debate. Renard and I will infiltrate." It was difficult to tell but the black clad mystery man seemed to be a little terser even than usual.
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Jack of all Blades: Initiative. (1d20+9=24) Jill O'Cure: Initiative. (1d20+4=7)
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The corner of her mouth twitching in ill concealed annoyance Jill added, "My melodramatic nickname is She Who Will Seriously Cut You If You Waste Any More Of Our Time." Apart from the winded teleporter, the pre-med student was likely the least formidable looking member of the group but she was clearly in no mood to have those appearances tested. "It's wordier, sure, but it's so gosh darn evocative. And you," she continued, pointing a finger in Beekeeper's direction, "are just lucky Fleur de Joie is a forgiving saint of a woman who likes setting up playdates. Next time somebody says 'hey guys, I think this is a set-up and we shouldn't fight,' maybe it's a maldito set-up and you shouldn't fight!" Making a strained sound of frustration through gritted teeth, she mimed a strangling motion in the teenagers' general direction before taking a deep breath and straightening her crimson jacket. "Alright. Okay. I'm good. If either of you are hurt, say something; I'm a medic." Grumbling under her breath, she walked over to Harrier to catch a lift. "Por Dios..."
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--You too? Hrm,-- Midnight replied to Eve, tallying the multiple channels the supposed tip-off had been set through. --Lacks discretions for a whistle-blower. Grouping at Manor; garage is open.-- There wasn't much point in being subtle over a telepathic link. As much as he doubted even someone expecting her would spot la Renarde Bleue née Sage if she decided to scout ahead on her own, they could at least walk into a potential trap in force. --Your favourite co-captain is already here.-- Quietly thankful that his uniform hid his slightly unkempt appearance, he replied aloud to Edge over the communicator. "Wander, Templar. Renarde en route. Pick up Cannonade on your way." There was, at the end of the day, little that could beat an inter-continental teleporter for sheer convenience. Pulling a lever on a nearby control panel caused a china cabinet in the mansion above to rotate away and reveal a downward staircase as Erin and Corbin approached, beckoning them enter.
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Flying ahead of the Wonderbus, Ghost Girl remained in full albeit translucent view, scanning the road ahead for signs of the Canadian guerrillas. Ultimately they spotted her first, one of the scouts waving her over from behind a snow drift and directing her to Rebecca Stone's ad hoc outpost nearby. "Whooo wants to make friends with an army of seriously cheesed off, Nazi-hating computer people in unstoppable robot war bodies? 'Cause I'm betting it's you guys!" the phantom announced with two enthusiastic thumbs up. More soberly, she advised the commanding officer in a lowered tone, "Just, y'know, make sure to be nice to them 'cause their boss lady will seriously melt your face off. She has not had a whole lot of reasons to be in a good mood lately." Kimber frowned for a moment, regarding Stone, her brow furrowing in an uncharacteristic moment of reflection. "Boy, outrageous déjà vu. I guess alternate dimensions are like that!" Saluting smartly, she nodded to the present soldiers. "Good work, all of you, and good luck! I've got a really good feeling that things are going to start getting better now!"
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Deep underground a blinking red light nearby a workbench altered the hunched figure of Trevor Hunter of yet another message being relayed from his various personal and 'professional' lines. The young man scratched his cheek absently and he glowered at the insistent distraction, reminding himself that he hadn't bothered to shave in the better part of a week. Letting the tool in his hand clatter atop the pile of parts he'd been working on, he pushed one of several empty mugs out of the way to access his recent communiques. Rubbing the bridge of his nose and willing himself to full wakefulness as he read, Trevor mentally reprimanded himself for not paying attention to the original voice mail until now. Performing the telepathic equivalent of knocking on a clubhouse door, he moved to retrieve his costume while contacting Eve Martel over their ingrained link. --Eve, what can you tell me about Grant Pharmaceuticals?-- The white haired gymnast's family ran one of if not the foremost biomedical companies in the world. Hopefully she'd be privy to scuttlebutt he wouldn't have already heard about their competitor. --Sounds like they may be mixed up with the Terminus. Or it's a trap.-- Even his thoughts sounded tired, but he pushed it aside as he donned his mask. "Redbird." "Finally," the autonomic intelligence spoke up immediately, her voice a mixture of relief and eagerness as the headlight of the Night Cycle housing her consciousness lit up. "A call to action! I understand fresh air is important for biological warriors, yes?" Midnight made a flat sound through the filter of his mask and began taking stock of his equipment. "Hmph. ...what day is it?"
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"Well, ol' Jerry's got a point," a wry voice noted conversationally from atop a building about a block away from the advancing behemoth. "He does have a giant warsuit. That's definitely something most folks can't claim. I know I haven't got one." The swashbuckling hero known as Jack of all Blades turned to his teammates assembled behind him. "We've gotta bring thing thing down in the street, not on somebody's pizzeria, entendieron? Will, I'm thinking vines. Goggles, if there's something to short out over there, I want it fried. Hermanita, see if you can get your gal pal on the horn." Watching the battlesuit with a scowl nearby, Jill O'Cure scoffed. "I can't even believe we're wasting our time with some loser who couldn't take getting picked on in high school, you want me to waste her's too?" "Decommissioning weirdo science weapons is kinda her speciality, right?" her brother pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "What's got your unmentionables in a bunch? You've been weirder than usual for like weeks now." So it had seemed on the handful of occasions he'd actually seen her over the past month and change, at least. The younger Espadas had always kept busy but she'd been blowing off family dinners, training, even actual emergencies lately. It wasn't like she didn't have good reasons in every case but it was enough to make him take notice. His questions earned him nothing but an eyeroll. "Clamp down on the paternal hormones, 'Dad'. Maybe I just think we could be doing something more constructive than dealing with idiots every time we turn around. But clearly that makes me the crazy one." Holding up a dismissive hand to ward off any further conversation, she fished out her cellphone and dialed Mara's number. Nonplussed, Jack turned back to the others. "Okay, so... familial drama later, hitting the giant metal armor guy until he falls down now, yeah?"
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Trevor didn't react to the sudden movement, but he did wince a little at the damage to the wall. In a quiet voice, he replied, "Only if you want to." He didn't move toward her, careful to give her as much space as she wanted and to let her make any first move. "Big house. Lots of walls. Can always be fixed." It actually wouldn't even be the first time entire wings of the mansion would have needed rebuilding, although that seemed like trivia better left for another day. "Whatever you need."
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It was testament either to hardened nerves or a stoic disposition that Trevor didn't so much as flinch at the slammed mug, or perhaps knowing that Erin could have easily shattered the ceramic if she'd been truly furious. Wasting the beverage she'd just taken time to carefully prepare worried him more. He was silent for several beats, meeting her eyes and waiting to see if she said anything else. Finally he began, "...can't read your mind. Whatever's bothering you, I need you to tell me." In the past, he knew she'd preferred to sort her feelings out on her own but this year she was practically waving a flag in his face, demanding his attention. He was ready to give it but he also knew he'd only make things worse by guessing.
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That actually caused Trevor to pause with his emptied mug halfway to the sink. Back turned to Erin, he allowed himself a furrowed brow. As much as the Hunters' lax grocery shopping had become a running joke, she knew perfectly well that there were other kitchens in the expansive mansion, some of them larger and in heavier use than this one, stocked mainly with beverages given its proximity to the foyer. It was a feeble reason to suggest going out to eat, given how much more difficult it was for his grandfather and right after suggesting working on the saucer instead. "In your work uniform?" he questioned aloud, pointing out another oddity in the abrupt change of plans. Obviously Erin was going out of her way to be more sociable for this year's holiday season, but it wasn't like her to be so flighty.
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Trevor let out a short breath through his nose as they began walking. He's put on half again what he'd weighed when he and Eve had first met, but admittedly that owed far more to physical training than to his less than stellar eating habits. There just weren't enough hours in the day to remember to set any aside for meals. "Giving you a chance to catch up, 'Shorty'," he countered affectionately, jostling her lightly with their linked arms. "Diner works." He indicated that she should lead the way with his free hand, deferring to the voice of nutritional reason.
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Eve found Trevor leaning against the side of a set of stairs descending into the courtyard created by the intersecting halls of FCU. The taller student had worn a black jacket to match the beaten fedora and oval shaped sunglasses on his head, but broke the pitch colour up with a light blue scarf and jeans to avoid looking too much like his costumed identity. He lifted a hand in silent greeting as he stood up and sauntered over to his white haired friend. "So. Coffee?" he suggested predictably, offering the Martel heiress the crook of his arm in a subtly wry gesture.
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"What the hell is 'The Collector'?" Jill asked, a hand reflexively going to her stomach as she fought the vertigo brought on by Harrier's relayed images. At the very least, this seemed to confirm her suspicions that the world they were on was some sort of artificial stage, but the sheer scope of the falsehood was staggering and the motivations behind it remained elusive. She couldn't help but feel that all of this was well above her metaphorical pay grade. "Man, if this is another Preserver thing..." The medic's muttered musings were cut short by the arrival of pursuing starships. "Protonic reversion drives, huh? Well, that's my least favourite type of reversion drive, wouldn't you know. Get your shiny butt back down here big guy, so we can provide some cover." Blue radiance lit up both of Jill's fists as she prepared herself and kept an eye on the grey clouds above.
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"Heh. Try to stay visible without drawing too much attention to the family," Trevor reminded her despite a muted smirk as he contemplated her suggestion. There was a fine line between being so reclusive people got curious and being so ostentatious as to invite the same. Fortunately, Freedom City had enough old money scandals and new money meteoric rises to keep the average gossipmonger busy for a lifetime but there was no use throwing his financial weight around for petty revenge. "...would also be wrong," he added belatedly, the corner of his mouth twitching further upward.
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Alternate Versions of Jack of all Blades and Jill O'Cure
Gizmo replied to Gizmo's topic in Through a Glass, Darkly
Perseus of Earth Y-Gorgon-13 (Extinct) Power Level: 15 (250/250PP) Trade-Offs: +5 Attack / -5 Damage [swords] In Brief: The Gorgon’s Sword Alternate Identity: Formerly Erik Espadas, Jack of all Blades Identity: Public Birthplace: Freedom City, Earth Occupation: Herald of the Ultimate Preserver Affiliations: The Gorgon, The Preservers Family: Deceased Description: Age: 25 Apparent Age: Ageless Gender: Male Ethnicity: Formerly Human Height: 6’0†Weight: 175 lb Eyes: Metallic Blue (Without Pupils) Hair: Sapphire Flames History: Early in his career as a metahuman vigilante, Erik Espadas took part in the defense of his homeworld against a malicious duplicate of the interstellar hero Dark Star. This doppelganger successfully ambushed and discorporated his better self and began a rampage that cost many of Earth’s most established defenders their lives. At a crucial moment, Espadas’ full metahuman potential was unleashed through a sorcerous gambit, allowing him to siphon off the villain’s gravimetric energies. Though victorious, channeling such a massive amount of power left both Espadas’ abilities and psyche dangerously unstable. Attempts by his peers to stabilize him led to more deaths, including the inadvertent dispelling of the mystic construct Grimalkin and a permanent depowering of the electrified speedster Dynamo. Espadas went into hiding, briefly reappearing in Japan and later Tibet. When the massive Preserver construct known as the Gorgon came to sterilize the Earth, she found Espadas to be a ideal candidate for uplifting, stabilizing his fluctuating power levels and resulting in post-metahuman herald of unparalleled precision and unswerving loyalty. The newly renamed Perseus proved instrumental in dispatching humanity’s futile attemps to avoid sterilization before leaving with his mistress to seek out more worlds in need of preservation. Abilities: 10 + 10 - 10 + 0 + 4 + 10 = 24PP Strength: 30/20 (+10/+5) Dexterity: 20 (+5) Constitution: - (-) Intelligence: 10 (+0) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 20 (+5) Combat: 14 + 20 = 34PP Initiative: +5 Attack: +20 Swords, +12 Melee, +7 Base Grapple: +36/+17 Defense: +15 (+10 Base, +5 Dodge Focus), +5 Flat-Footed Knockback: -15 Saving Throws: 0 + 10 + 8 = 18PP Toughness: +15 (- Con, +15 Protection [impervious]) Fortitude: - Reflex: +15 (+5 Dex, +10) Will: +10 (+2 Wis, +8) Skills: 36R = 9PP Bluff 10 (+15) Knowledge [Galactic Lore] 16 (+16) Language 2 [English (Native), Galstandard, Spanish] Notice 8 (+10) Feats: 23PP Attack Focus [Melee] 5 Attack Specialization [swords] 4 Dodge Focus 5 Evasion 2 Move-By Action Power Attack Takedown Attack 2 Taunt Uncanny Dodge 2 [Cosmic Awareness, Visual] Powers: 51 + 4 + 2 + 32 + 5 + 45 + 1 + 2 = 142PP Cosmic Herald Array 20 (40PP Array; Power Feats: Alternate Power 5, Dynamic Power 6) [51PP] Dynamic Base: Damage 5 (Extras: Autofire 10, Linked [Drain Toughness], Power Feats: Improved Critical 2, Mighty, Variable Descriptor 2 [Any Electromagnetic]) + Drain Toughness 10 (Extras: Affects Objects, Linked [Damage]) [20 + 20 = 40PP] (energy swords) Dynamic AP: Concealment 8 (All Auditory, Olfactory and Visual; Power Feats: Close Range, Selective) [18PP] (invisible wavelength) Dynamic AP: Enhanced Strength 10 (Extras: Linked [super-Strength]) + Super-Strength 14 (Effective Strength 100 [12.5k tons Heavy Load]; Extras: Linked [Enhanced Strength], Power Feats: Groundstrike, Shockwave) [10 + 30 = 40PP] Dynamic AP: Flight 19 (Total 20, Near-Lightspeed; Power Feats: Subtle) [39PP] Dynamic AP: Space Travel 40 (Total 41, 25 000 000 000 000c) [40PP] Dynamic AP: Super-Senses 40 (Detect Electromagnetic [Mental]; Extras: Accurate [+2], Acute, Analytical, Counters Concealment [+2], Counters Illusion [+2], Counters All Obscure [+5], Extended 16 [1017’, ~3.2ly], Penetrates Concealment [+4], Radius, Ranged, Rapid, Tracking) [40PP] Comprehend 2 (Speak and Understand All Languages) [4PP] Flight 1 [2PP] Immunity 32 (Critical Hits, Fortitude Effects) [32PP] Immunity 10 (Emotion Effects; Flaws: Limited [Half]) [5PP] Protection 15 (Extras: Impervious, Reflective [Electromagnetic Damage]) [45PP] Space Travel 1 [1PP] Super-Senses 2 (Cosmic Awareness [Mental]; Extras: Acute) [2PP] DC Block ATTACK   RANGE   SAVE            EFFECT Unarmed   Touch   DC25 Toughness   Damage (Physical) Energy Swords Touch DC25 Fortitude Drain Toughness DC25 Toughness +Autofire Damage (Energy) Totals: Abilities (24) + Combat (34) + Saving Throws (18) + Skills (9) + Feats (23) + Powers (142) = 250/250 Power Points -
Pausing in the middle of a sip to snort softly, Trevor successfully avoided an undignified accident at the mental image Erin had called up. "A paragon of professionalism," he agreed, thumping on his chest once with his free fist and coughing behind the hand holding his mug before attempting to drink any more of his coffee. He suspected employees who had a problem deferring to younger women didn't last very long at Mara Hallomen's company, but it was good to hear that the chief of security wasn't having any difficulty holding her own. "Not dealing with grad student teaching assistants, at least. Difficult to rebuke when they're grading your work."
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--Don't sound so thrilled,-- Trevor's thoughts responded dryly while he packed up his books and made his way down the tiers of the classroom's seating. Eve's weary tone wasn't completely unexpected given how much energy she'd been putting into her studies but fortunately the pair had long since perfected the art of hanging out even when one or both of them were feeling unsociable. Besides, it sounded like a break was in order. Slinging his bag over one shoulder of his coat, the laconic student dropped off a few pages of completed equations on the desk at the front of the room on his way outside into the brisk January air.
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Ghost Girl didn't actually breath in any conventional sense, but she didn't let that stop her from heaving a sigh of relief when the local version of Rogue decided to forgo her genocidal trump card. The translucent blue specter shimmered into view without warning next to the Tronik resistance's leader, offering the gynoid-inhabiting artificial intelligence a sunny smile of approval. "I think you're making the right call!" she congratulated sincerely. "If you're not better than the people you're fighting, you're not really winning at all, right? I'll make sure to put in a good word for you with the Canadians!"
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Trevor raised one hand defensively as he used the other to lift his mug to his lips. "Just checking." Erin was usually a little better at picking out his deadpan attempts at humour, but to be fair it had actually been a fairly reasonable question in the first place given their track record. If she'd had been restless enough to head straight over after work rather than changing, he suspected she just really wanted something to keep her occupied and distracted for a while. With no immediate threats to the city's safety, working on restoring a vintage alien spacecraft was the next best thing. "Let me finish this first," he promised, taking another sip. "How was your day?"
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With the winter break over, a large portion of Trevor Hunter's time was once again being taken up by classes at Freedom City University. The bulk of his classes for the new semester were theoretical studies that had little chance of capturing his attention fully, since he'd had opportunity to put most of the principles being taught into practice in his alter-ego as the second Midnight. The dark haired young man wasn't adverse to restudying fundamentals and the course work's exercises were worthwhile, but he found it easy enough to split his focus while taking in a lecture. Telepathic communication was at least more polite than texting or browsing social networking sites in the middle of class. --Wrapping up here. Five, ten minutes. Meet you in the quad?--
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Wail let out a flat sound through his nose and crossed his arms across his chest as he surveyed the revealed room. "I used to get pop culture references..." he muttered largely to himself while Gabriel made short work of the massive shark idol. "Then again, I also used to smash up the scenery to make myself feel better, too." For his part, the veteran hero was less concerned with the iconography and more with the remaining mutagen, carefully picking up a set of needles and serum to better examine it. "This is all pretty ritualistic, which means somebody had to come up with the rules. I'm wondering if we're talking new fad or dusted off."
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"Not entirely clear what eggnog is..." Trevor muttered absently under his breath, brow furrowing slightly in unbidden thought. "Would be good to see you before the new year, though, yes." He offered Erin a smile as subtle as her own, keeping his tone as even as ever, with as little implied pressure or expectation as he could manage given his lack of dispassionate objectivity. He was again surprised by her abrupt suggestion; she seemed to be jumping from one thing to the next with little warning that evening. "If you'd like. ...work or 'work'?"
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Without the slightest warning, Midnight was suddenly behind Jason, flanking the immortal warrior with Wander as the cloud of midnight mist gradually dissipated to reveal fallen foot soldiers scattered about the ground. The only hint the black clad hero's target got was the crackle of current along the tips of twin stun batons before they drove hard into his sides, causing resurrected muscles to lock and spasm. "You're out of date," he informed the braggart coldly, letting Jason know just how badly he'd been outmaneuvered. "Archaic. Unprepared."