Gizmo

Unseen beneath his mask, Midnight ground his teeth in frustration. Any other time, he would have jumped at the opportunity to work of such a magnificent vehicle. As it was, they needed Redbird fixed as soon possible; there simply wasn't any time for delays or distractions. The young man knew, however, that there was no way he'd be able to work properly while he worried about Erin, especially once he noted that she hadn't actually said she wanted to complete her side trip on her own. The indecision very nearly froze him in his tracks just as it had the day his own Freedom City had been overrun with the undead, albeit briefly. Since that day, however, he'd put a considerable about of his planning ability toward figuring out third options in case of similar quandaries. "Sage, get in my head, access mechanical skills," he instructed, removing a number of tools from his belt and jacket and handing them over to the diminutive telepath. "Should be enough to get back in the air; can't complete full repairs out in the open anyway." Then, deliberately, he unfastened his mask and let it hang about he neck. "Mark, get me to her. Please," Trevor asked his friend, his onyx and ruby eyes showing a hint of strain through the stoicism.

As she launched into the bridge of her band's latest dirge, it dimly occurred to Mori Trip that she'd forgotten the name of the terraformed moon her band had arrived on earlier that cycle. The band's manager, otherwise known as Trip's roommate and ex-boyfriend, has booked Huntyr on a tour of neo-post-goth clubs in the local system, shuttle hopping around from moon to moon to try to drum up interest in the new album they'd just released on the 'stream. Unfortunately, he'd never really understood that Huntyr's sound was all about the post-neo-goth scene, not the neo-post-goths, leaving the tattooed young woman singing to a room full of confused and disinterested 'snow peas', with their hair nanodyed white and neon green lipstick showing up against powdery foundation. Trip's dark leathers and ornamental chainmail fit in only in comparison with her seven foot tall, shirtless bass player - incidentally another ex-boyfriend - his chiseled blond looks lending some credence to his claims that there was some genuine Asgardian in his family world tree. The third in her band played a double-reeded instrument adapted from the Grue Individuality, which human tongues could lay but not pronounce the name of. To be fair, she admitted to herself, even real post-neo-goths weren't always sure what to make of that one. As the song wrapped up, she waved a hand at the bartender to let him know she was taking a smoke break. Given the lukewarm reception the band was receiving, the beleaguered drink mixer didn't put up any argument. Ducking out the backdoor into the alleyway behind the club, Trip fished a herbstick from her jacket and fumbled with her lighter for a moment. The terraforming had left whichever moon she was stuck on with gravity reasonably close to Earth norms; might have been a little higher than she was used to or she might just have been tired, it was tough to say. Taking a long first drag, the singer ran and hand through the long, black hair on the side of her head that wasn't shaved bald letting out an appreciative sigh. So distracted, it took her a while to notice the figures coming down the narrow space toward her. Having done so, it took much less time to spot the illegal weapons in their hands. "Have to be twipping me..." she groaned under her breath. "Well, well, well," began the vest wearing thug who was presumably the leader of the group if his proportionately more ostentatious body art was any indication, grinning with a mouthful of sharpened teeth as he ran the fingers of his free hand over the stubby, surgically implanted horns poking out of his forehead. "What do we have here? Looks like another generous donator to the cause!" There was an awkward pause where it gradually became clear that he expected his intended victim to ask which cause that was, and then that Trip really couldn't be bothered to play along. After another the shorter tough behind the leader began fidgeting. "Hey, Dozer, can we hurry this up, already?" he asked in a voice that shook too much to be intimidating as he looked about the shadowy alley as though expecting to find someone else there. "What, you got somewhere better to be?" the horned criminal scoffed without looking over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by a loud, resounding sound that echoed in the night like a massive gong. ~OONG~ The smaller of the pair visibly blanched at the noise. "That's why, 'rade! It's almost midnight!" ~OONG~ It dawned on Trip that the unfamiliar noise was some sort of bizarre recreation of an old fashioned bell tower. Time keeping was a basic function of even the most rudimentary implants, and particularly important when moving from moon to moon, so she couldn't imagine it was particularly necessary, but most of the colonies in the system had one sort of novelty or another to attract visitors. She dimly recalled seeing a holographic projection of the floating on each of the four faces on one of the city's taller towers as the bands shuttle had pulled in for a landing, but it was obscured by the alley wall from where she stood. ~OONG~ "You get a bad wire job, skagger?" the first thug asked his partner, incredulous. Unfortunately, he kept his firearm trained on Trip, and she didn't have much room to maneuver or make a run for it. "You seriously coming to me with some nursery rhyme twip right here?" ~OONG~ The smaller man continued to look about, jumping a little at each sound of the reverberating tone. "Look, my old man always said, you don't ever pull a job at midnight, right? That's like the worst hex you can do to yourself!" ~OONG~ "You're old man was a zapcap head," his friend countered with dripping scorn. "He couldn't have counted to midnight in the first place." ~OONG~ His accomplice scowled mightily, a little of his fear turning to anger as he began to visibly shake. "Oh yeah? What about X9-Rob? He tried knocking over a credit terminal during New Year party and nobody ever saw him again!" ~OONG~ "Nobody ever saw him before that 'cause X9-Rob ain't even a real 'rade!" the larger mugger argued, clearly growing exasperated as much as anything else with his partner's superstitions. ~OONG~ "Look, if you two are in the middle of something, here, I could come back later," Trip drawled flatly, her makeup heavy eyelids half closed and her expression bored as she folded her arms and held her herbstick between her teeth. ~OONG~ "Hey, shut it!" her initial attacker snarled, turning his attention back and forth between the other two people in the alley. He worked his jaw awkwardly, his filed teeth apparently making extreme expressions a tricky proposition for him. ~OONG~ With that tone the panicky crook visibly jumped off of the ground, whipping his head back and forth. "How many was that?! Oh skag, I lost count! Forget this, man, some scene girl's purse ain't worth no hex!" Turning around he sprinted out the alley the way he'd come, very nearly dropping his sidearm on his way out. ~OONG~ "Get the--! Argh!" The remaining mugger looked like he was about to pop one of the fresh sets of stitches along his temples at the absurdity of the whole thing. "Freakin' twip, gonna kill this fem, take her creds and nothing's going to happen!" he shouted after his fleeing partner. ~OONG~ Turning back around to face his prey as the final tone sounded, he was treated to a face full of herbstick smoke blown right into his eyes. Coughing and rearing back with a start, he opened himself up to a brutal kick between the legs courtesy of one of Trip's massive, impervilite toed boots, followed by a well placed palm strike to his wrist, shattering cosmetically etched bone and sending his pistol clattering to the ground. Falling to his knees with a pained, high pitched grunt put his head at the perfect height for another kick, leaving him in an unconscious heap. Looking down at him with an annoyed look, Trip blew another ring of smoke, took a final drag on her herbstick then rubbed it out on the back of the incapacitated thug's neck. Shaking her head in disgust, she opened the door behind her and stepped back into the club to finish the band's set. "Loser."

Hanging to the back of the room to let the others get a closer look at the newborn, Jill rested her chin in one palm. "That kid is going to have one bizarre life..." she remarked quietly with a soft, bemused smile and a tone that made it clear she didn't think that was anything but a blessing in and of itself. She'd never given much thought to children herself, certainly not since certain realizations, but it was hard to watch the parents with their baby and not muse on the possibilities of the future.

"Nice, Zip, good work," Jack complimented, reclining in his chair with his legs stretched out and his hands behind his head. The swashbuckler was pointedly making no move to get up; if anything, his expression looked even more bored and unconcerned than it already had. "Look, spurs-for-brains, I get it. You're taking the break-up hard. But really, the traditional time for this is the priest's 'any objections' line." Reaching over to his plate, the fencer retrieved a bread roll and took a bite, continuing to talk as he chewed. "Honestly, this is rookie stuff. Dramatic Entrances 101. I would be super embarrassed if I were you. And not just because you're ugly, you smell from way over here and you're dumb enough to think walking into this room with a popgun was going to end well for you." Regarding the half eaten roll in his hand, he murmured appreciatively. "Which bakery did you say these were from?"

Oh, well, okay. If it's alright, I'll have him set Grim up instead, then.

I was, yes. It'll have to wait until tonight after work, but it shouldn't take me long.

Alright, let's say Doktor Archeville, then, since he's going next anyway.

Midnight stood perfectly still for a long moment as Wander's silhouette dwindled into the distance. Eventually, he raised two fingers to press the comlink in his ear beneath his mask. "Can have Mark teleport me to you instantly," he noted quietly, drawing on his considerable self-control to keep his voice even. After another, briefer pause, he added, "Don't think you should do this alone." Turning back to face the others, he rolled his shoulders subtly and addressed Red Falcon. "Let's get your bike back in the air."

Oh, sorry, totally missed that Jack was up in this. Jack of all Blades Move Action: Auto-DC 36 Feint w/ Skill Mastery and Fast Talk. Standard Action: Auto-DC 36 Distract w/ Skill Mastery. Extra Effort: Surge. Standard Action: Auto-DC 36 Taunt w/ Skill Mastery. Set-Up: He'll pass along the Feint to whomever plans to attack Gillman first.

The alien bike caught Midnight's attention immediately, but it was the vehicle's rider he saw to first. "No one dies today," the shadowy figure intoned in a flat, grating tone that dared anyone or anything to dare contradict him as he reached into his belt and withdrew basic first aid supplies. He could only make educated guesses about the fine points of Furion physiology, but it was enough to see to the pike wounds and immobilize the broken limbs until they could be treated properly. Wiping purple blood from his gloves, he nodded brusquely, indicating that their new ally could now take the time to tell his story in full.

Throwing himself sideways to avoid being struck by a larger piece of the tower, Trevor rolled into a ball as smaller debris rained down across him back, coming up in a low crouch with his arms covering his face. As the worst of it subsided, he rose and took stock of their surroundings, making a short but clear response for the benefit of his teammates. "Here. Fine." Beneath his featureless black mask, the young man frowned. Seattle... It didn't make any sense; Freedom City was a focal point for interdimensional occurrences, that was why it had been the site of Omega's invasion, why the reality bombs had to be placed there. There was no reason for them to be in Erin's home city. Unless... what the cat was saying...

Jack of all Blades 38 Manic Pixie Dream Girls (4) Brimstone and Whetstone (10) Blades of Grass (2) Dok & Thrude & Jack & Willow (8) A Fairy Tale (3) Interceptors - They're Finally Getting Married! (4) Dark of the Woods (7) June 2011 Vignette Jill O'Cure 26/2 = 13 Fun in the Sun (4) Acorns, Axes and Apparel (5) The Great Escape (17) Midnight II 34 Graduation Day: Worn Out Places (2) Graduation Day: The End of the Beginning (11) Graduation Day: Familiar Faces (12) Graduation Day: Leaves From the Vine (6) Graduation Day: The Earth Died Screaming (3) July 2011 Vignette Wail 19 Going Ape (19) GM/NPC Vince 2/2 = 1 Dok & Thrude & Jack & Willow (2) Contribution Wisp, Crow, Glowstar, Myrmidon, Lord Steam, Cyberknife, Jubatus Additional OOOO Members

Reflex Save vs. DC 25. (1d20+8=21) Toughness Save vs. DC 23. (1d20+10=26)

"If only to keep you from giving yourself an ulcer," LaMarr rumbled with amusement, casting a significant glance at Eve's latest coffee, while what little was left in his original cup sat cooling and forgotten. Frowning at his phone once more, he used the stylus to save the contact then paused, trying ascertain if he'd managed the feat. "Hrn. Think that did it," he grumbled, handing the stick back to the younger woman and replacing his phone in his pocket. "Anyway, figure I at least owe you for sitting through that story, heh."

--That's my line,-- telepathically replied with a wry look in Eve's direction obscured by his mask but evident in the tone of his thoughts. Even with his notoriously psychic proof mind, familiarity made it easy for both Sage and Psilent to pick up on his meaning. --She's right,-- he added, turning to the native of the future timeline with a shallow nod. That was all that needed to be said between the two quiet heroes, one Midnight to another. "Should get a hat though," he said aloud.

The twisting cloud of shadowy mist spun itself into a column next to Sage before abruptly coalescing into the no less dark figure of Midnight. With a grunting affirmative, the young vigilante retrieved a radiation suit from the nearby emergency lockers and donned it with the speed that came naturally to any costumed crimefighter. Gesturing shortly for the others to stay back, he stalked forward, prying the now familiar panel off of the third reality bomb. Making a quick scan for any signs of damage or effects from the radiation that might effect his urgent work, he swiftly disconnected the internal components and removed the core cosmic rod.

Taking a few steps back and letting out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Jill crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the bedroom's wall of a moment, just watching the family. A few emotions flickered across the young woman's masked face before she quietly slipped out the door, shutting it softly behind her before sprinting out the cottage's front door. As she leapt into the air, a pillar of shimmering blue construct bridged the space between the ground and her feet, propelling her upward toward the flying singers. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted through a grin, "Hey you dopes! It's a girl!"

Jill hesitated for a moment, a little wary of getting into convenient kicking range of the naturally irritable woman, and considered just making a set of stirrups with her force fields. While there probably would have been some legitimate advantages to that, Stesha and her mother seemed to be making a point of doing things the old fashioned way and she didn't want to offend. 'Old fashioned' isn't really the right word, though, what with the bouncy ball and everything... Ack, concentrate, do not spaz out right now. Making her decision quickly, she stepped forward and did as she was instructed. If nothing else, this was certainly the first time she's actively helped with a delivery, and she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to learn.

"Elevators, stairs," Midnight indicated brusquely, heading in the indicated direction himself in a dead sprint. There was no time to lose; the enraged Terminus Baby endangered the civilians, the meltdown endangered the city and the reality bomb endangered all of existence. Taking a deep breath and focusing as he ran, Trevor closed his eyes for a moment before his entire body exploded into inky black particulates, the cloud of mist lifting into the air for a moment before shooting down the elevator shaft toward the danger. Still conscious, the young metahuman ignored the alien sensation, a silent column of stygian mist shooting forth with vengeful purpose.

As the the behemoth bees outside broke into unholy - though surprisingly melodic - ruckus, Jill planted both palms over her eyes and dragged them down over her face in silent reproach. Resisting the urge to examine just how her life had reached that point, she paced back and forth distractedly, racking her mind for something useful she could be doing. For the moment, everything seemed to be going well, thankfully, but it didn't leave much for her to do but stand around and wait. More than once she opened her mouth to deliver an offhand remark or attempt at humour and ended up snapping her jaw shut with a soft click and resume walking.

"Aw, you kidding?" Jill scoffed affably as she moved to stand next to vigorously bouncing woman. "Most of my job is looking after a loud juvenile who demands attention and makes messes everywhere that I have to clean up." The young medic was making an obvious effort to give Stesha something else to focus on momentarily, playing up her body language as she delivered the deadpan punchline. "We're just lucky mi hermano isn't here. He'd be all trying to make his swords look like cigars to hand out for a sight gag, then something would get lit on fire..."

Jill took a moment to marvel once more at the organic construction of the cottage, noting how much bigger it had gotten since the last time she'd visited Sanctuary. Giving her robotic ride a pat on its massive head, she tumbled off dexterously and made her way to the bedroom, her confident stride helping to dissuade anyone who might have suggested she remain elsewhere. Closing the door softly behind her, she offered Stesha's mother a brief wave and a look with considerably less bravado. "Ah, hello! Hi. Yes. I'm Jill, Jill O'Cure. I'm a medic," she hastened to explain before lapsing into a long, awkward pause. "Is there... something I can be doing?"

"Hrm. Why I hate teleportation." Fortunately there were certain practical limitations to technology based instantaneous travel which made it difficult to conceal a jump's destination to someone who knew what to look for and had the proper equipment. Fortunately, Midnight was ever prepared on both counts. "Have them. Here," he noted as his palm sized tablet finished recalibrating to the local reality's geosynchronous satellites and began to compile a map with the Wolfpack's escape route plotted. Turning it around to show the image to Psilent and Lucky Strike, he waited in expectant silence.

As they finally left the nullifying field of the prison, Jill lifted one gloved fist experimentally. With a flicker at first, a warm blue glow like dappled sunlight streaming through a leafy canopy surrounded her hand, bringing a triumphant laugh to the harried young woman. "Ha! Back in business!" While the others dismounted their robo-insect mounts, the young woman remained perched where she was. "C'mon, buzz-borg, you know you wanna see this, too. I've never gotten to be around for a birth outside a hospital." A little more quietly she added, "And it's not like it'd hurt to have the ol' magic touch around in case the baby's all black holes and vine tentacles..."

HP Reroll. (1d20+6=24)