Gizmo

Well, A: how high is he flying and B: which insubstantial is he? Jack's energy swords will still effect up to Insubstantial 3 no problem.

Jack of all Blades (100) S.H.A.D.O.W. over Freedom (4) [interceptors] Zombie Powder is a Helluva Drug (5) Public Service (3) No Mutation Without Representation! (4) No Mercy (3) Bananaphone (4) Interceptors: The Sweet Science of Stabpunching (2) Interrupting Cow (1) Of Martyrs and Men (6) A Case of Mistaken Identity (11) Me Like Hockey! (9) Troubleshooter (23) The Legacy of Al-Kazar: Happy Grimday! (15) "Concert Auditions. Second Floor, 2B" (6) The SHADOW Falls (4) Midnight II (107) Jail Break (1) Cry Havok! (5) House of L: Eve of Midnight (4) Could've Danced All Night (21) Save Tonight (19) ... but the Exchange Rates are Murder! (12) At The Mountains (11) Midnight Bloom (14) Just Another Class Trip (13) Meet The Roommate (7) GM and NPC (12/2 = 6) IN SPAAAAACE! (1) Fast Heroes and Loose Women (1) 8 Simple Rules...for Working with Jack (6) The Legacy of Al-Kazar: Happy Grimday! (4)

Escrima Sticks Power Attack 5. (1d20+10=17) That's DC 15 + 2 Escrima Sticks + 3 Strength + 2 Sneak Attack + 5 Power Attack = 27. Gadgets! Snare 10 (Power Feat: Tether, Drawback: Reduced Range [5 Increments]) [10PP]

Trevor mouth curved downward into a complete frown, an unusually intense expression for the young man. "I wish tha-- wait." As he processed the second half of Alex's comments he winced involuntarily and adjusted the collar of his shirt before regaining his composure. "I, ah, ahem. That... is not even a little funny," he insisted, though the corner of his mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. There was a pause before he asked hesitantly, "She's happy?" Hints of self conscious trepidation and the barest inkling of a goofy smile mingled across his stoic visage.

The instant they arrived in the wooded area, Midnight vanished from view reflexively, stepping out from behind a tree on the opposite side from the one Fleur was expecting. "Teleporting," he observed flatly. Shaking off his discomfort, the teen knelt beside the dead foliage and withdrew a pair of tweezers and a small, disc shaped device from his belt, then set to work collecting samples. The analyzer beeped a few times before the black clad heroes voice softly noted, "Toxin confirmed in flora, soil samples are clean." There was a brief pause as Midnight held a pair of fingers to the side of his head. "Easier to just clear the-" As though interrupted he stopped midsentence and nodded. "Showing off. Right." Standing he turned back to Fleur. "Poison stays in the plants, leaves ground usable. Someone's making room for new plants the hard way."

Though he hid it well, Jack was caught off guard for a brief moment. Grapple line! She means the- right. Yes. Pulling his grapple back out of his coat, the swashbuckler made a half bow and extended and arm to Bombshell. "Your chariot et cetera, et cetera milady forsooth," he offered, exaggerating his already smooth voice and playing up his slight accent.

Oh hey, a non-damage radiation effect. Stupid carbon particulates... Reflex Save vs. DC 21. (1d20+10=19) Nuts. Fortitude Save vs. DC 21. (1d20+9=11) Nuts. Rerolled Fort Save vs. DC 21. (1d20.minroll(11) + 9=21) Trevor be outta HP. Weaksauce, M2, weaksauce.

Since Grim's turn shouldn't affect what's going on inside the museum, Jack will Charge the High Sorcerer with his Corrosion attack. Energy Sword Power Attack 5. (1d20+15=30) His Defense is at 26 as a result, but that's a DC 21 Fort save and a DC 28 Toughness save. Lemme know how that goes and I'll get the IC up.

"Hrrn, teleporting..." Midnight grimaced as the invaders appeared behind them. When Wander outlined her plan, he ran the index finger of his free hand along the brim of his fedora. "Back your play. Always." As they touched down, the pair were rewarded with looks of surprise from the motley gang in the split instant before midnight mist rushed forth from Trevor's every pore, blanketing them all in darkness. Through the lenses of his mask, he watched as Erin make short work of the group in ruby tinted relief. Pulling the pin from one of the small orbs in his hand, he lobbed it forcefully at an invertebrate looking opponent. On contact, the matte black sphere burst with a sharp hiss buffeting the invader with explosively decompressing gas.

Grenade! (1d20+9=16) DC 26.

Initiative. (1d20+3=19)

"See, and I've always said never rappel sober," Jack quipped nonchalantly. That was patently untrue, naturally; the fencer wasn't much of a drinker, his physical prowess being the result of hard training and conscientious living, but there was no reason he couldn't make it look easy. "Bloody gravity, amirite?" he commented in reply to her explanation of the wall sliding trick. "Gonna have to try that one out, definitely..."

Trevor blinked once in mild surprise at Alex's assurances. "Just assumed you liked coffee," he admitted. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that she might have been skimming his thoughts; the lanky youth was still acclimating to dealing with metahuman abilities in noncombat situations. "Nothing to hide," he told the diminutive telepath with an unconcerned shrug. "Well, besides..." Raising his index finger he let a small trail of midnight mist float lazily upward as if from smoldering kindling. "And you already knew that." The room being stocked with his visitation in mind was of more immediate interest to him. "Does that mean I have your stamp of approval?" Trevor placed a hand on the back of his neck self consciously. "Is that how that works?" Familiar though he was with the ways of debutantes and high society maneuvering, the precise etiquette of winning over the best friend escaped him. Considering how highly Erin valued Alex's opinion, it was a matter of no small concern.

Without a word, Trevor moved to an ornate grandfather clock resting in a nearby, shadowed nook, in what Fleur couldn't help but notice was the one spot in the large sitting room not viewable through the massive window which looked out onto the estate. Opening the glass over the timepiece's face, he deftly moved both hands counter-clockwise until they pointed directly upward. With a soft click, the entire section of wall behind the clock shifted, sinking backward then rotating around to reveal an inky silhouette, edges blurred by the shadows apart from a pair of gleaming ruby eyes which glared outward with malevolent inner light. The rail thin teenager stepped forward, a change in his posture making him seem suddenly larger as he pulled a black jacket from the uncovered rack and slipped it on. "Always a next time," he intoned in a strangely cold and flat voice, buckling the coat across his chest, "until it's stopped." As his grandfather looked on with grim satisfaction, Trevor Hunter was quickly replaced by wraith-like Midnight. The featureless mask was the last piece he donned, completing the transformation. "Let's go."

Trevor made a token effort to convince himself that the sudden warmth under his black mask at the offhanded compliment was just from the heat of the alien world's bountiful flora. Because a shadowy avenger of the night doesn't blush. Obviously. The gas filter beneath his ruby lenses transformed an awkward clearing of his throat into a flat grunt. "Stay sharp. Doubt luck will hold out."

Travis nodded sagely stroking his snow white goatee. "Indeed. I may still be good for a favor or two from the old days, consulting for the Liberty League. Let me see if--" "Gramps," Trevor interrupted, "her fiancee teaches at Claremont." The chemist froze for a moment before giving his protegee a flat look. Trevor could only shrug mildly in response. With a soft sigh, the elder Hunter turned back to Stesha. "Well. My grandson's skills are at your disposal, naturally. I trust we can count on your discretion on the matter?"

Travis shook his head. "Not a poison, precisely. Identified at least a half dozen component toxins and caustic acids, all of them blatantly artificial." The elderly chemist grimaced with disdain. "'Overkill' doesn't begin to describe it." Trevor, having risen from his seat along with Fleur, considered. "Someone really wanted those plants dead." The chemist snorted. "Someone is showing off. Fiendishly clever, but totally lacking in restraint or efficiency." He nodded to the botanical heroine. "Textbook sciencevillain. I suspect your destroyed flora had the misfortune of being a test run."

"Ah, well..." The stoic youth's eyebrows rose noticeably at the mention of coffee. "If you've already put a pot on," he acquiesced sensibly, taking the proffered seat. Given the discrepancy in their height, Trevor's posture in the chair was vaguely comical, but he didn't seem to mind. "So..." He wracked his mind for potential topics of conversation, uncomfortably out of his element, but determined. "Ever get a chance to track down and deal with Gibbons?" he asked bluntly.

Midnight's mouth curved slightly into a thin smile as Wander made short work of the first robot. Really do love to watch that girl work. When Psyche put a name to their adversaries, the black clad youth produced a handful of small, matte black spheres from his belt, barely larger than marbles. "Simulation with Gamma made me think," he noted flatly as he cast the miniaturized devices outward in a broad arc, spreading them about the team's feet. "Lead leaf lining is good..." With a high pitched hiss, jets of pale grey powder burst from the orbs, coating the area is a transparent cloud. "Radiation dampening carbon particulate aerosol is better." Noting the direction the telepath was studying intently, Midnight faced the Shadow's entry point and let an aura of midnight mist seep from his pores, mixing with the carbon dust to give him an indistinct outline punctuated by glowing red eyes. When the villain slipped through the floor, he released an accelerated gout of mist, creating the illusion of a great black form lunging forward.

Midnight II Move Action: Configure Gadgets. Immunity 5 (radiation damage, Extras: Affects Others, Area, Flaw: Limited) [10PP] Standard Action: Ready DC 30 Demoralize w/ Intimidate Skill Mastery against Hiroshima Shadow. It won't protect the team from his drain, but it'll give them an edge against his blasts.

[bg=#000000]The Blank[/bg] The Academy is no place for the weak, but while most trainees focus on reaching ever greater levels of personal power, the enigmatic young man known as The Blank has built his reputation by capitalizing on the vulnerabilities of others. On the occasions he chooses to reveal himself directly, he appears always in an immaculate white suit complete with gloves and a featureless mask which covers his entire head. Fastidious about his apparel, he displays an almost obsessive devotion to cleanliness, with the exception of blood splatter, which he finds somehow enchanting. With the ability to create vision nullifying 'white outs', The Blank is a wraith about the Academy grounds, surrounded by a carefully constructed web of misinformation. In truth, he is Trevor Hunter, grandson of one of the Praetor's original gang. Disinterested in the inherited reputation, he assumed his new identity and by the time he came to the attention of Beaumont, had already taken control of a notable portion of the city's illegal gem trafficking despite his youth. A cunning mixture of blackmail, veiled threats and manipulation quickly secured him a place in the training ground's hierarchy. Coming for a line of assassins, The Blank possesses their predisposition toward brutal efficiency. Disparaging his peers' tendency toward excessive shows of force and cruelty, he acts only when there is a tangible benefit to be gained and never simply to harm others. Seeing himself as a bastion of reason and order in a world thrown into chaos, The Blank feels that the only way to restore his city to its former glory would be to rule it himself. Lacking the power necessary to take over directly, he is more than willing to bide his time, building his empire brick by brick from the ground up. Their families' shared history is a private joke The Blank enjoys at the expense of the unknowing Hex, while his natural mental resilience has done little to endear him to fellow chessmaster Pathos, though he's far too cautious to risk drawing her undivided attention, particularly while she has Assault at her beck and call. Oddly, he treats Singularity with what passes for compassion at the Academy, considering it a lamentable waste that so much power should be attached to so fractured a mind. Of course, were her post hypnotic suggestions ever to fail... well, The Blank does like to plan for every eventuality.

Through sheer force of will Trevor maintained his composure. There was a considerable amount to which the level headed youth could adapt, but holding conversations with animated corpses sorely tested his limits. Privately, he admitted that his grandfather's endangerment was playing a large part in his frustration. Accepting that this was the best way to save the man who had raised him restored Midnight's crystalline focus. "The old man. Where? he demanded brusquely.

"Visiting new...?" Trevor blinked a few times as he took a moment to mentally process the full implications of Fleur's suggestion. "Wow." It was a subdued statement, made softly and calmly, but from the laconic teen it was a significant exclamation. A slightly muffled sound of triumph came from the laboratory. "Believe we have something," Travis Hunter called, appearing in the doorway, holding a vial of clear liquid in one gloved hand.

"Hey, grab my coat, would ya?" Jack whispered back as he peered at the two switches. The swashbuckler frowned as he regarded them from either side, even crouching momentarily to look at then from below. Nothing he saw gave him any clue as to which switch would turn off the web of laser beams. He took a step back and gave Ace and Edge an awkward look. "Okay, good news, bad news. Kid, can you, like, good luck me up or something? I'm gonna have to make a guess here."

Midnight stopped in his tracks. Still thinking he was just dead, he realized, resisting the urge to smack himself in the forehead. After failing to find an accurate way to ask the question given the English language's assumption that one was either dead or not, the vigilante glared at Dead Head. "Actually dead or not?" he demanded to know, indicating the body on the lawn. "Can it be interrogated?"