Gizmo
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Well, I'd like to say it takes both, but that'll probably get me into trouble somewhere down the line. The stats for Midnight I in the book give his lenses infravision, so make of that what you will. Your call, Doc.
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Maintaining the jamming signal, Midnight immediately recognized the self-destruct sequence the robots had begun in the laboratory earlier. He let out a short, sharp breath through his nose as Doktor Acheville's machinations sent the bulk of the androids speeding away from anything their explosions could damage, then turned his attention to the revealed suit of armor the scientist was standing over. Different command frequency? Ego. Given the megalomaniac tendencies Havok had displayed, it made sense that he would craft the robot posing as him to stand apart from the others. Including a bigger bomb. Jabbing the transmission rod point first into the rooftop, the black clad vigilante sprinted off the edge, firing his grappling pistol as he went, swinging like an inky blur toward Acheville with one hand outstretched. "Doktor," he called in a measured tone which nevertheless managed to carry easily across the shortening distance, "time to go."
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He can! He's got Super-Senses 3 (Darkvision, Infravision) [3pp], with the understanding that his mist, despite technically being a physical particulate, generally works akin to a 'darkness' descriptor for ease of use.
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"Hey, I'm not trying to fish for an invite or anything," Jill protested reflexively, setting her folk down and raising her hands defensively before pausing and looking abashed. A faint trace of colour touched her deeply tanned complexion. "Aaaaand that's what I'm talking about. Sorry. Hanging out sometime actually would be pretty cool." Clearing her throat lightly, she added, "The library here is way better than the public one anyway, so."
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"Sure a whale or octopus or something would break his fall," Trevor suggested absently as he finished drawing the rear wheel of a motorcycle shaped cloud with his index finger, unconsciously leaning into her fingers. "Best not to test it, though," he agreed, blinking a few times as he willed himself to focus through the telepathically induced lethargy. "Mark, Truth or Dare?"
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"Horses. Large dogs," Trevor provided in a composed tone, dry enough to make it unclear whether he'd missed the intended joke or was playing along in his own way. "Less experience with children; adapt quickly, though." His expression remained mild as he stood in a relaxed stance, his hands in the pockets of his unbuckled jacket. If the baby's behaviour and pronounced canines were giving him any ideas or concerns, the young man didn't display it outwardly. "Not to worry," he assured Taylor. "Don't scare easily."
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Jill glowered mildly as she stepped through the opened door and out of the grown domicile, still finding the gregarious hero's misplaced sense of chivalry grating. "Magic. It's like fifty percent science, maybe. Sixty forty, tops. " At Supercape's request, the teen formed a luminous, concave scoop shape in roughly the proportions of a massive catcher's mitt, letting it float in front of her. "So you even throw things in cricket? Is that how that game works?"
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Jill considered Erin's words as she cut into her waffles with considerably less enthusiasm or precision, oddly distracted by the other girl's artful eating method. "That actually makes a lot of sense," she admitted, moving her fork midair to keep the precarious balance of berries atop the wedge of flat cake. "Weirdness being relative, I mean. I dunno, though, wouldn't it be kinda weird to just show up randomly on the weekend?"
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Jack moved swiftly and quietly, grabbing Bombshell's shoulder and pulling her deeper into the store room, motioning for silence with his free hand. Whoever had followed them inside was being stealthy enough that they must know someone was inside, but since the swashbuckler wasn't sure if they'd been spotted yet, his instinct was to play it cool until they had a better idea who or what they were dealing with. Ducking behind a stack of crates would provide some cover either way, he reasoned, deftly pocketing one of the strange power cells as he went.
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"Not really," Trevor told Mike with a shrug as he attempted a rough simulacrum of a pair of human silhouettes. Unsatisfied with the result, he let out another stream of mist from his mouth, pushing the new cloud up and away to disperse above them. "Had to learn control. When my powers first developed... tended to 'mist' by accident. Inconvenient." That was understating things considerably; he'd been forced to remain home under the pretense on an illness for weeks, and even then there had been a few close calls. Trying again, he managed for a much better pair of figures, though there wasn't much to identify them as being anyone in particular apart from their respective heights. "Tear ducts release nothing but mist now, so that's tricky. Lapse when I'm... distracted."
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Trevor resisted the urge to quirk an eyebrow at Faretti's unusual outfit choice as he shook the older man's hand, keeping his grip firm but not pointedly so. He certainly wasn't a stranger to the eccentricities of the wealthy and if mystical forces were at work, the flowing shirt might have even been of practical design. His grandfather had warned him that where magic was concerned, it was dangerous to make assumptions. "Hopefully so," he answered calmly, his expression impassive though amiable enough. "I'm fine, Mrs. Faretti, thank you."
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"Pleasure, ma'am," Trevor responded in a soft baritone with a perfunctory bow dampened by his conservative body language. The odd phrasing of their hostess' welcome immediately brought to mind that of a voiceprint passcode; given the stated supernatural quality of the estate, it didn't take much to realize what she was doing. Hnn. Magic. The youth wondered what would happen to anything that tried to enter the home without being properly invited. Stepping inside, he smoothly removed his shoes, revealing black socks as he set them neatly aside.
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Regarding Dead Head through the concealing cloud as the undead hero crept up behind him, then turned back to the cultists. The mention of Travis' assault marked the end of his patience. "I. Bring. Doom," he intoned in a tone like gravel being crushed in impossibly strong fists. The cloud of inky mist suddenly burst forward, washing over the robed men, blinding them. The lone standing speaker felt a merciless blow on his throat that continued down to pin him on the stone floor.
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"Reputation for going too far," Trevor agreed as he unbuckled his motorcycle jacket and adjusted his sunglasses, the eyewear made somewhat conspicuous by the time of evening. Freedom's criminal element was terrified of the supposedly violent vigilante, and on more than one occasion Midnight had been mistaken for being in league with him, to the younger hero's mild annoyance. The dark haired young man tipped his beaten fedora back enough to give him a clearer view of the foreboding mansion. "Had no idea this was here..." Having grown up in the North Bay, he knew the area well, but this was unfamiliar territory.
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Making a sound that was halfway between a cough and a chuckle, Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head contemplatively to one side, studiously leaving Erin's comment unremarked upon. "Hum, well..." Taking a deep breath, the dark haired young man exhaled a long stream of inky midnight mist into the air in front of him, then set to work, letting short jets out from each of his finger tips in lines and bursts. He had to work quickly before the stygian cloud could dissipate, but he managed a rough approximation of a giraffe, its neck seeming to extend as the smoke drifted upward. Rubbing his chin and narrowing his onyx and blood red eyes, he tried a different tack, clapping his hand together then pulling them apart slowly, shaping the midnight mist between them into a considerably more accurate alligator the floated in the air next to the first cloud.
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Trevor gave Mike a silent but apologetic look for a moment while the larger youth refused to meet anyone's eyes. He didn't know Mike nearly as well as the others did, compounding the awkwardness. "Hnf, tagbacks," he grunted dryly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Better stick to 'Dare' this time."
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Haha... everybody wants October. Very cool stuff, alder. The midnight mist heart pretty much makes it for me. Jill is of course at your disposal, should you be able to fit her in.
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Trevor visibly winced at Alex's response, shoulders tightening slightly as he reflexively twisted away, regretting his line of questioning. "Hnn. You're a mean drunk, Albright," he opined in a wry, gravelly baritone. He was quickly distracted by Erin's outburst of laughter, regarding her fit with a slowly broadening grin and a raised eyebrow. "Gonna make it?" he asked her as she started to hiccup.
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Trevor's expression briefly shifted into one of subtle bemusement at the reminder of Alex's startlingly powerful skill set; although the youth knew intellectually that the diminutive genius was likely reading at the very least the surface thoughts of those around her at all times, it was a difficult thing to adjust to for someone as vocally reserved as he. It did point him in the direction of his question to her, however. "Hrm. How about an embarrassing unintentional mind reading story? Something you 'heard' you wish you hadn't?"
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The blow was enough to send Blaise O'Glory rocking backward through the air, losing her grip on her grapple and skidding along the sidewalk, leaving a broad streak of dark scuffing on her white jacket. The Three-Flames Katana tumbled from her fingers and landed point down in the concrete, penetrating several inches to stand upright and quivering as the teen struggled to her feet with a wince, shaking off the worst of the super-strong blow. Violently tugging her weapon free, shimmering heat erupting down its blade once more, Emma held the sword pointed behind her as she sprinted forward to the landed battlesuit. "You are going to leave my friend alone," she demanded as she sprang forth, "Right! Now!" The katana whipped forward unexpectedly, striking with carefully controlled anger at the armor's joints, cutting just deep enough to sever connections and components but leaving the girl inside unscathed.
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Blaise O'Glory Move Action: Feint Network! Again! Move Action Feint. (1d20+10=19) Standard Action: Attack the possessed geckosuit! Again! Three-Flames Katana Power Attack 5. (1d20+6=17) That's DC 25.
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Toughness Save vs. DC 22. (1d20+3=19) Say whaaaaat!
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Notice Check. (1d20+15=33)
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Oh, wow. Thanks, Geez, nice catch! Guess I'll dump 11 of those 12 free points back into Jill's Biological Manipulation Array: Biological Manipulation Array 24 (48PP, Power Feats: Alternate Power 2) [50PP] Healing 11 (Power Feats: Dynamic, Stabilize, Persistent, Regrowth, Extra: Restorative, Total) [48PP] AP Disease Touch 11 (Drain Fortitude 11, Power Feats: Accurate 2, Incurable, Slow Fade, Extra: Linked [Damage]) + (Damage 11, Extras: Alternate Save [Fortitude], Linked [Drain], Secondary Effect) [48PP] AP Create Object 10 (Power Feats: Dynamic, Progression 2 [25-foot cube/rank], Selective, Stationary, Tether, Extras: Impervious, Movable) [46PP] That puts her at 164/165! He keeps rolling
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"It only bounced off because you startled me!" Jill retorted crossly, letting the glimmering dumbbell evaporate away. "I already told you, it's selectively permeable; I could let the spoon in halfway and then stop it if I wanted." Of course, that obviously wasn't much help against an unexpected attack, and the teen knew it. More than anything she was embarrassed at being caught unprepared and letting her control lapse in front of their hostess.
