Gizmo
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Stepping up behind Mara while the inventor was still focused on the clock, Ellie laid her hands across her girlfriend's shoulders and neck, massaging the tense muscles there with gentle but firm pressure. The metamagi let just a trickle of her restorative powers seep from her fingers, the faint blue glow and subtle warmth barely noticeable and just enough to mend a strain here and a crick there. "I think we can feel pretty good about slapping down the international terrorists and the maniacal moon witch," she advised with an echo of a laugh in her voice. "C'mon," she continued, gradually leading the way over the couch while still moving her hands in deep, circular motions, "I want to show you something. You're not the only one who thought we should have a contingency plan."
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Midnight II Move Action: DC 30 Startle vs. Colour Host 3 Standard Action: Escrima Stick Attack, Inspire +5, Power Attack 5. (1d20+14=30) Save deal, DC 30 Toughness Save with Sneak Attack, DC 28 otherwise.
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Ellie slid her crimson jacket from her shoulders and left in unceremoniously on the apartment's floor next to the couch, quickly followed by her bandana mask and gloves with her messenger bag resting atop the pile. With a soft exhalation she raised her arms far above her head, stretching from her toes up her back all the way to her fingers. "Marbar, you put together something in your living room that allows instant travel to anywhere within Earth's orbit. Bask if your awesome for a minute." Taking a look over at the clock to reorient herself to Freedom City's time zone, she let her shoulders slump slightly. Between all the distractions and running around, they'd managed to burn through the better part of the day they'd set aside for each other. "That didn't go quite as planned, admittedly."
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Initiative. (1d20+9=11) Ffft...
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Bending her arm upward at the elbow to take the hand Dragonfly was draping over her shoulder, looking out at the massive blue and white marble hanging in the inky black overhead. "...yeah. Good view." As her heart rate returned to normal after the exertion of the fight, the vista took on a timeless quality, the realization of just where she was standing and what she was looking at slowly washing over her. Not that it was quite perfect, unfortunately. "You've got a point about the ambiance lacking a certain something," she agreed, grimacing in the direction of an unconscious crater ape with its tongue lolling out of its maw. "Let's go home."
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Would the magic/energy Jack's sensing be noticeably related to hellfire, with which he has more than a passing familiarity?
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"Well, if nothing else, she ordered them to attack us first," Jill reasoned with a halfhearted shrug. Poking an unresponsive crater ape with one foot, the medic sighed. "Granted we showed up unannounced, but she was a real jerk about it. I'm just hoping she's not really a princess or whatever; starting a war with the Moon would be really embarrassing." Stepping over a furry blue arm, she moved next to Dragonfly and leaned wearily against the slightly shorter but armored young woman. "I dunno. I guess... we could just leave her here? Unless you know the number to call the moon police."
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Jack laughed out loud, a raucous sound that came perilously close to wasting a perfectly good mouthful a beer. "Yeah, I'm secretly a billionaire slumming it. Don't tell anybody, though." Before he could make the case for 'consistent' being what he called 'boring', however, the bottles behind the bar abruptly started to make an emphatic exclamation of their own. "New tip," he noted to the other two men, lowering his voice and rising from his seat. "Get used to getting sidetracked from social engagements. Yugh, tastes like prickling brimstone..." For the umpteenth time, the metamagi wished that his synesthesia-like extra senses would bring him good news for a change.
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"Telepath puns? Terrible," a soft, level voice commented from just off to Mark's side opposite to Etain. While the reality warping young man's arrival had been accompanied by a considerable amount of innate fanfare, Trevor Hunter was simply there, his relaxed posture with his hands in his pockets giving the impression he'd been present for a while. Not surprisingly, his black suit jacket matched the raven hue of his hair, sunglasses and fedora but the deep crimson dress shirt he wore underneath it was about as close as the reserved engineer came to party wear. "Miss Maher," he greeted with a shallow nod.
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"What? You can't plan these things out, it's not a chess match," Jack interjected, making an emphatic horizontal gesture with one hand. "Okay, yes, you should find about what she likes and figure out stuff you can do together, but you have to be spontaneous. Like, if you see something that makes you think of her, you don't have to wait for a holiday to give it to her. You don't want to be predictable." The emphasis the swashbuckler gave the last word was one normally reserved for highly contagious and graphically unpleasant ailments. "And I'm not saying you should get into a fight on purpose. But if somebody doesn't care enough to get well and truly cheesed off at you now and then, you've got other problems." As Jack saw it, Steve was already bound to treat this mystery woman with kindness and respect, making his biggest challenge the likelihood of playing things too safe. One couldn't have passion without a little fire, after all.
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With a last glare that gave the impression that she wanted to say something condescending about Dragonfly's technique with a blade, Lady Lunar's features went lax, the Farsider villain slipping into unconsciousness as her body reacted in shock to the trauma of the spatial disruption. The flickering blade didn't leave any permanent damage, or indeed even a mark, but the sensation of the laws of physics briefly being rewritten in ones innards was evidently something a nervous system thought it best to stop and contemplate for a while. Setting their defeated for down on the moon's surface, Jill let the force field crackle away into nothingness, letting out a ragged breath as she surveyed the unconscious forms of the crater apes and bizarre oxygen generators around them. "Whoo. Okay, well, I guess now we can..." Trailing off she rubbed her eyes through her bandana mask with the heel of her glove hand. "I actually have no idea what this was even about."
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Gulping audibly with an abashed look, Kimber ducked her head in between her shoulders when Kristin cut off her rambling fretting. "Sorry, sorry!" she apologized in embarrassment. "I'm calm! Just got a little worked up there for a minute..." Not having much in the way of memories to choose from, the time she'd spent with her friends as part of the newer incarnation of Young Freedom was particularly dear to her. "Ahem. It's true, though! We're pretty tough! It helps that like half of us don't have any internal organs or anything, I guess." Giggling, the poltergeist waved her hands in mock distress. "Oh no, what if a supervillain kills me?! The horror!" Her cheerful expression made it clear that any morbidity to the statement was entirely lost on her.
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I'm just gonna call that toast before this gets drawn out into a slugging match, if that's okay with you.
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"Termi--!" Ellie exclaimed violently before choking back on the word to avoid interrupting the more informed discussion taking place between the HAX personnel and who she quickly inferred was someone not of their reality. Stacking her textbooks unceremoniously next to the box of doughnuts, she swiftly rummaged through the rest of the bag, taking stock of the basic medical supplies she made a point of carrying with here wherever possible. Whatever reputation the Espadas Clan might have had, there was little arguing that they possessed a knack for responding to unlikely situations with decisive action. It seemed clear that a desperate rescue mission was in order and there would be wounded to attend to and safely transport.
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Ellie barely shifted as Willow pushed passed her, frozen in place on the stairway, eyes wide as saucers over a face covered by both hands. It was several long moments before her body forced itself to resume breathing in the absence of any orders from a shocked mind. "Oh, Dios..." she whispered, and the words seemed to her to be coming from someone else. For his part, Erik moved past Chris and his sister without thinking about it, reflexively moving to the fore and only catching himself a handful of steps behind Willow. Expression had drained from his face and the knuckles of the hand gripping the railing were nearly bone white. "If this... is a trick or a hedge, something Archeville cooked up," he began very, very quietly but growing in volume as he blue eyes flashed with visibly erupting emotion, "then you want to be very far away. Promise me that it's really you, Mo'. Swear it."
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"~~Doo doo, sneaking into the secret lab, doo be doo,~~" a melodic singsong voice came from the elevator gaining volume as the newcomer popped her grinning head through the door, leading with a sizable cardboard box balanced in one hand. Taking advantage of the warmer weather, Ellie Espadas had only recently gotten her dyed black hair trimmed once more to frame her angular feature. A textbook laden satchel suggested that she had just finished her FCU classes for the day while her good spirits suggested that she intended to make the most of what was left of it. "~~Bribing the security guards with doughnuts, shoobee bop, d-- Yeesh, serious faces," the pre-med student observed as she got a better look at the trio already gathered inside, her smile fading and her brow furrowing slightly as she looked for a convenient spot to put down the pastries. "What's up, Marbar?"
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"Tch, easy to say it's not important when it's not your bits getting cyborg'd up the wazoo," Jack countered out of the side of his mouth, shuddering involuntarily and reaching for his drink again. Even so, he raised no objections to Carson's questions, conceding that they were indeed more important queries in the larger scheme of things. "Point. You're not going to get anywhere treating women like they're aliens. Even if they are. Or you are. Sort of. ...the idiom got away from me a little there, but it's important to remember that you're both people. If you're filling a need for each other, like you said, that's about all you can ask for." Letting Steve respond in full, he found himself nodding along with the somber man's earnest answers. "That... was really pretty, man. You should tell her all that. Or maybe save it for when you're having a fight."
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Initiative. (1d20+3=22)
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More than rolling with the punch, Midnight twisted his body to turn with the attack, then vaulted over the extended orange arm as though it were a horizontal bar, flipping in the air so that his feet pointed directly upward before coming back down on the other side already astride the Night Cycle. The twitch of his hands and knees that brought the two-wheeled vehicle around to face his attacker directly was just as fluid, so quick that there was a moment while the Furion based cannons finished charging for Redbird to offer, "You should not have mentioned the hat." Any reply from the armored maniac was cut off by twin beams of crimson light that left black dots swimming across the vision of anyone staring directly at them. The cosmic energy cashed into its target, bound in place as he was by Cimitiere's necromancy, drilling into the glowing orange plate. It wasn't enough to even slow the mad thing down, but it did prove that it could be injured.
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Go for the coup de gras, and we'll wrap the fight up.
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Lady Lunar attempted to make some response, but by that point Jill had gotten a tight enough hold on the thrumming force field around the Farsider that her pale, narrow jaw was held shut as surely as her arms were held against her sides. After a moment more of struggle, she ceased, simply narrowing her eyes and giving the advancing technopath an impressively scathing glare considering her less than ideal position. "Send this cow over the moon, muñequita," Jill encouraged, her voice a little strained but holding strong.
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Pausing the conversation long enough for their drinks to be delivered and a modicum of privacy to be restored, Jack had an odd moment of self-realization, muttering quietly to himself, "I think I'm more qualified when it comes to non-human women..." Drowning that observation in a long pull from his glass, he set it down slowly as he marshaled his thoughts. "Private people, makes sense," he assured Steve, rubbing the stubble along his jawline with one thumb. "But you get that without knowing her 'circumstances', some of what we're gonna say might not really apply, yeah? You already got a big ol' plate at the circumstance buffet yourself, Steve-o." Flicking his gaze in Carson's direction for a moment, he cleared his throat. "Which, uh, brings up another question. Just for reference!" he clarified a little defensively, raising his free hand palm outward. "How much of you is, y'know. Open for business?"
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Jack didn't notice Gabriel - or rather, Carson - until red haired man approached the bar, the better part of the fencer's attention of the man who had invited them there. Even so, between the Irishman's distinctive features and ability to light up a room without trying, for lack of a manlier expression, he was difficult to miss. It was equally hard to miss the careful politeness offered in his direction, and ultimately impossible to avoid a small, answering smirk. The swashbuckler felt that he got on with the other hero well enough while they were working, but any time they had more than a minute or so to talk between themselves he inevitably got the impression that Carson was expending considerable effort good-naturedly tolerating his many shortcomings. Having no illusions of humility, Jack could readily admit to himself at least that the muffled air of judgement rankled more than any direct insult would have, just as he knew the sonic manipulator would never have actually intended offense. They rubbed each other the wrong way and there didn't seem to be much to be done about it. In this instance, however, there was no saying no to Steve's earnest request. The former Omegadrone was the original hard luck case and as much as he sounded more confident than the last time they'd spoken, his stilted attempts at conversation made it clear he still needed all the help he could get. Raising one hand in the air and nodding to the bartender to order a beer, he turned back to the bald man. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, you old hound dog you."
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The bar door opened wide to make way for the dusty brown haired man who confidently entered with a flashing grin for the pair of brunettes sitting at one end of the bar and nod of camaraderie for the bartender, who found himself smiling back before it occurred to him that he'd never seen the newcomer before in his life. "Hey, Steve," Jack greeted smoothly, pulling a chair out from the table with his foot, spinning it around with a flick of his leg before sitting down with his arms folded across the back, across the table from the somber man. "You look... good!" he managed with barely any discernible pause at all.
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Midnight II Toughness Save vs DC 27. (1d20+12=20) Toughness Save vs DC 27, HP Reroll. (1d20+12=22) That makes it a 32. Move Action: Mount Night Cycle. Extra Effort: Surge. Full Action: Cosmic Weaponry vs. Orange Goon 2. (1d20+12=15) Well.
