Gizmo
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I'll let Lynn hit rather than HPing his Defense, since putting it at 41 basically kills the rest of the round for Eli and Mona. Toughness Save vs. DC20. (1d20+3=5) Toughness Save reroll vs. DC20. (1d20.minroll(11) +3=19) Jack takes a bruise!
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Trevor was starting to get used to Erin's sudden changes in topic, and the lanky youth smoothly matched the tall girl's hurried stride down the corridor. "Sure," he replied simply. He'd been planning on squeezing in some time on the streets between then and the next sunrise anyway, and he could certainly appreciate the desire to work one's aggression out on someone who actually deserved it. "Gear's in the limo. Have it waiting for us."
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Vince appeared on the wall next to Grim dressed in a khaki safari outfit and pith helmet, listening intently through a hearing horn so massive it required a wooden framework to support it. "Nothing so far, 'Malkie, but we're on high alert! I'll keep you wacky kids in the loop, don't you worry your pointy eared self!" The swashbuckler known as Jack of all Blades had spent the last several hours sitting crosslegged on the roof of the apartment building, eyes closed in the warm sunlight. As the call went out, he didn't move right away, instead taking in and letting out a deep, slow breath. Avenger wasn't going to give them any margin for error, and that meant keeping his cool. There was far too much potential for things to go poorly or get out of hand for him to his usual, irreverent persona. The lithe figure that swung into the building through the open window, closing it behind him, may have worn Jack's fanciful costume, but the thin set of his mouth made it clear that today it would be Erik Espadas calling the shots.
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Midnight gave Phalanx a long, flat look, grimacing behind his mask. Earth-bound heroes had known for decades that there was absolutely no way to remain dignified while being carried by a flier, whether one was being carried by one arm, under the armpits, over a shoulder or any other position. Had time been less of a factor, the fedora wearing vigilante would have much rather used one of the jet packs Dr. de Havilland had procured, but with the technology behind the his grandfather's midnight mist pistol in the hands of a dangerous felon, he couldn't afford to cater to appearances. With a grumble, he took the paragon's proffered hand.
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Expression studiously passive, Trevor opened the door for Erin and gave Alex an amiable nod, deigning not to acknowledge having overheard the conversation between the two girls in any way. Following his date back out into the hallway, he tilted his head to one side in subtle inquiry. If Erin wanted to talk about it, he was ready to listen; otherwise he was prepared to set to work clearing out the ballroom of any stragglers.
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Yeah, sorry, should have made that clear for people who haven't been around the brownstone before. He is going by Jack, but he's not wearing his costume or wig. He's basically counting on the Wally West-factor in this case, plus he's kinda making an effort not to be a paranoid nutbag in front of Lynn's friends for her big party. It's totally reasonable for Elena to be introduced to "Jack", but he certainly wouldn't have any idea who she is. Likewise, as far as anyone there knows, Ellie is "Jack's sister Jill".
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When the fingers brushed against his side, Jack had to restrain reflexes the demanded he tumble away. Lack of sleep had him feeling a little on edge, and though he'd wanted to make a show of foregoing his usual security measures for Lynn's party, the fencer would have felt better if he'd at least been wearing his wig. Turning around, he prepared to greet whichever guest was behind him only to be caught off guard by the literally stunning woman standing next to him. He wasn't sure if the glow suffusing Moira's being was thanks to his metamagi senses or just his imagination, but it was certainly distracting. Fortunately, Jack was a master of speaking without thinking. "I must have died and gone to heaven," he replied smoothly with a lopsided grin, cupping her extended hand in his own and bowing slightly. Yeah, I'm sure hitting on Lynn's extremely forward friend won't have any negative repercussions whatsoever, he drawled inwardly as his brain caught up to his mouth. "Moira, yes?"
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Trevor silently agreed that it was only appropriate to visit the fallen champion's base in uniform. Retrieving the pitch black garb of Midnight from the Night Cycle's saddle bag, he activated the thermal netting woven throughout the the pants and jacket which would monitor and maintain his body temperature even in arctic conditions. Regretfully, he replaced his fedora in the canvas bag and withdrew an ushanka crafted from equally dark synthetic fibers. Tucking the hat under his arm, he reappeared at the table with his unfastened mask hanging from the neck of his jacket, the filter and eye lenses visible from the exposed inside.
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Shaen, you wound me! Yeah, I knew what you were talking about, but Erik isn't much of a pop culture guy.
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20 - Jack of all Blades - Unharmed - HP x4 14 - Fulcrum - Unharmed - HP x2 13 - Grimlakin - Unharmed - HP x2 9 - Dynamo - Unharmed - HP x3 Apparently we're at me. Whoops! Quick question: where's that DC22 coming from if Lynn's Strength is only +5?
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Jack's super-senses let him see him no problem, so: Move Action: Move to shadowy fella stealing the scepter. Move Action: DC 33 Feint (w/ Fast Talk) Extra Effort: Surge Standard Action: Energy Sword Power Attack 5. (1d20+13=20) Lemme know if he needs to reroll. If it hits, that's a DC 21 Fort Save against the Corrosion, followed by a DC 28 Toughness Save.
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Jack was moving before Bombshell had even made it off of the rooftop, following her over the side of the building with a tight somersault. For the laundry line he leapt to take hold of a windowsill opposite the ledge the blonde acrobat had let down upon, leveraging his one-handed grip to flip himself forward. Kicking off the wall mid-jump, the swashbuckler sent himself soaring across the alleyway, arms outstretched and back to the ground, before swinging on a fire escape to change the direction of his flight. He kept himself just a half step behind the ex-thief, zig-zagging back and forth across her trail with his own free running spectacle, a broad grin fixed to his masked face.
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Hands resting in the pockets of his suit jacket, Trevor studiously counted the ceiling tiles above the office's doorway, doing a commendable job of becoming part of the furniture. Being present for what was rapidly becoming an intense discussion between the best friends was more than a little awkward, but the attention opening the door to leave would draw to him wasn't an optimal choice either. Privately the lanky teen felt that parental advice and involvement was highly overrated, but he wisely kept the opinion to himself.
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My initial paragraph was about that, certainly. The other four in that post were about the team as a whole. Semantics, I suppose. I think this is a major point of confusion. They're not 'darker and edgier' nor are they morally flexible. When I talk about them being unpredictable, I'm speaking in terms of tactics, coming up with novel uses for their powers and abilities rather than simply powering through. Just because they don't care what the papers say about them doesn't mean they're about to start throwing people off of bridges or robbing banks. If the concern is that they're going to start crossing those kinds of lines, I have to say it's completely unfounded.
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I don't see anything we've mentioned here as being mutually exclusive. The Interceptors were always conceptualized as a young adult team and as a more proactive group. Bombshell made a good point in Troubleshooter, that "The older group thinks you should get a haircut and fly right. The younger set thinks you're putting on airs." It's pretty natural that they're not terribly well liked; they've got some rough edges, definitely. I don't think that's as big a problem as its being made out to be, though.
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The man ain't wrong.
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Jack looked groggily down at the smoldering holes in his black bodysuit and grimaced as his eyes struggled to focus despite the pain lancing up his back from the collision with the steel wall. Trying to move, he felt an unfortunately familiar scraping sensation deep in his chest. Gotta be kidding... same rib I broke last time I went up against Lucretia? So lame...
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I'll be honest, I remain bemused as to why people continue to assume the worst possible intent from anything Erik says, treating mild ribbing as biting insults, but if that's the way he'd being perceived, then I've got to respect the feelings of the community on that. I've been making a specific point lately to do a lot of what you just suggested, Shaen, in an effort to mend some of that perception. I expect it'll be a gradual thing, but he's getting there. I think a large problem is that we've been cosigned to mostly social threads. The Interceptors are very much a collection of action-oriented individuals, and I think it's natural to see some problems arise when they're left sitting on their hands too much. Objectively, they haven't been given a lot of chances to act like heroes outside of the demonic and Grue invasions, where they're really just bit players anyway. This is gonna sound like a dare, but I mean it seriously: if any of the refs who take issue with the team were willing to run an adventure for us, I think it'd go a long way to resolving the problems. Give them a chance to actually work together and save the day! Compared to the other teams, we're very low on refs, especially with Geez often busy with larger plotlines, so outside assistance on that count would be much appreciated, I think. Thematically, I see them as the team committed to not letting people slip through the cracks. The Freedom League and Young Freedom, to an extent, tend to get caught up with saving the world/universe/multiverse every weekend, and somebody should be around to handle, well, everything else. They're not the out-and-out most powerful characters, so their odds should be a little more desperate, they should have to take bigger chances and think further outside the box. They should be the unpredictable wildcards. I see them in the same vein as the Outsiders or the Luke Cage-led New Avengers, heck, even the JLI, in that they're looked down on for actually having a sense of humor. I'd also like echo quote in that those of us actually on the team don't have a lot of huge problems with the way things are going right now. I feel like a lot of the 'issues' being perceived are coming from outside characters and players, in which case I'd just suggest 'don't join the Interceptors'. Are there specific problems people have of which I'm not aware?
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Jack's gonna take a little nap while that stun clears.
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Trevor, leaning against the wall just inside the doorway to the office with his arms crossed, nodded lightly in silent affirmation of Erin's suggestion. It would be a simple matter to clear out the ballroom, and it might alleviate some of the uselessness he'd been feeling since the fighting broke out. If nothing else, manners demanded that their hostess not be left to deal with everything on her own.
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Trevor gave Erin a faint, rueful smile as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "And since I am a man..." he filled in the implied concern. The lean youth tilted his head to one side briefly in acknowledgment of the potential risk before dryly adding, "Like to see you punch her in the nose, honestly, so there's that, too. Well. Not like Alex can't contact us if she needs help." He kept to himself that turning Daisy over to the proper authorities wouldn't do much to prevent him from confronting her more personally should he later deem in necessary. A dark part of him enjoyed the idea of the manipulative bully getting a taste of real, undiluted fear. Still, he had better things to concern himself with at the moment. "Want to get out of here?"
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Beneath his featureless mask, Trevor gritted his teeth. He didn't have time to fight, not with his grandfather potentially lying wounded somewhere nearby. It was a long shot, but perhaps this creature wasn't as mindless as it looked. If it could think, it could know fear. Wisps of inky black mist trailed upward from Midnight's back, coiling together to give him a massive, indistinct outline in the night's darkness. "Leave this place," he intoned without emotion, "darker things than you are about."
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Jack of all Blades grinned humourlessly as he rolled to one side, vaulting back up to his feet. Lady, he replied to Scarab's mental instructions, I think I like your style. Even through the various pains wracking his body, the fencer could perceive a prickling sense of tactile deja vu, his metamagi awareness struggling to communicate to his natural senses just what strange energies Downtime powers were derived from. A more introspective man might have been fascinated, but Jack was the pragmatic type. "Just one question for you, idiota," he smirked, spitting a thick mouthful of blood directly into the criminal's revealed face before launching forward with a brutal strike of his icy blade. As Downtime collapsed across the bleachers with a grunt, the swashbuckler stood over him, red flecked lips turned up in a smug if unsteady expression. "The hell is a 'huckleberry'?"
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Alright, time to clean Downtime's clock. Jack of all Blades Free Action: Instant Up Move Action: DC 33 Feint Standard Action: Energy Sword Flurry Power Attack 5. (1d20+13=30) Lemme know how that goes so I'll know if I have to surge for another attack or not.
