Gizmo

Through sheer force of will, Trevor managed to ignore Mark's hurried passing as he smiles back at Erin, showing pearly white teeth. "Have to ask?" he replied, lightly tapping his forehead against her own, tipping his fedora slightly back and away from his face in the process. "Still, not leaving without at least one dance." Taking his hand from her waist momentarily, he produced the a set of small, black headphones from his suit jacket, passing Erin one of the earbuds and donning the other himself. A soft waltz played from the music player still in his pocket, and if the short cord forced them to keep their heads close together, well, that worked out fairly well, as far as the lean young man was concerned.

Jack covered his ears with his palms as Edge's display of magical might translated through his metamagi senses into an irritatingly peppy combination of cymbals and other percussion instruments. The energy manipulator's head continued to pound for several moments afterward, and he cracked his neck back and forth with a wince as he exited Ace's car. "Eugh. Woof. Alright, are we doing the sneaky-sneaky thing here, Skipper?" he asked the more experienced hero as he shook his seemingly recovered hand experimentally.

Jack runs up and makes with the stabpunch on the BLOC (big lizard on campus). Energy Blade Power Attack 5. (1d20+13=22) Ew. Let me know if he needs to reroll that. It's the Corrosion power, so DC 21 Fort followed by DC 28 Toughness.

"Argh, stop talking like that," Jack demanded in an irritable whisper over his own comlink as he leaped into action. The glamoured costume Grim had created for him melted away, revealing the crimson mask and royal blue greatcoat of Jack of all Blades. Unlike his diminutive teammate, the swordsman preferred to confront his opponents in a somewhat more direct fashion. An earsplitting electrical crack heralded his appearance as lightning surged from the overhead lights to his hand, raining sparks on the lizardmen below as a scintillating rapier formed in his palm. "Know what I love about Grand Poobah types?" he called out as he mibly sprinted for the group's scaly leader. "Big fancy robes make great targets!" His sword flashed back and forth with blinding speed.

Hey, you know what would totally take our minds off of rules and approvals? Jack's super-senses! Huuurr. I'm looking at stunting some sort of full-round, distracting deal that counters concealment, just for the start of the game, but I've never been clear if Avenger's brand of vampire even qualifies as 'magic' so far as Jackie B's Detect is concerned. This isn't something I'm married to, so if it's not gonna fly, no sweat. Just figuring out what his options are now rather than right in the middle of things.

Grapple Check vs. DC 35. (1d20+17=19) Notice Check vs. DC 32. (1d20+10=24)

"Well, do my best work lying down, naturally, but Jack do be nimble," the swashbuckler replied, his grin taking on a more jocular set, even as he reflexively moved his lower body away from the ex-thief's rising knee. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Hey," Trevor began, squeezing Erin's hand lightly, "enough with the self-deprecation stuff, okay?" Stepping forward, he placed his free hand on her waist, a small smile pulling at his lips beneath the brim of his fedora. "You kicked major ass." The colloquialism sounded odd coming from the laconic youth, but his warmth in his soft voice made it an affectionate compliment. "Looked beautiful doing it, too."

Jack rubbed the back of his dusty brown hair affably as he made the logical leap from Stesha's companion to Fleur de Joie's partner. "Holy snap, Twinkle Toes, I seriously thought you were doing the walking black hole thing twenty-four seven." It was hard for the fencer to reconcile the clean cut man in front of him with the power Dark Star, if only because he'd gotten used to recognizing the energy being via his metamagi awareness. "Good to see you, y'know, outside of work, man. But, uh... is that what I think it is on your lady's finger?" Pointing to his own ring ringer, he nodded toward the green haired florist, raising an eyebrow and grinning broadly. For many of those present, it was the first time they'd seen the swashbuckler smile without any hint of mockery or smugness. His sister, meanwhile, gravitated to the growing group of female arrivals, hanging back from the older women with forced nonchalance though some of her continuing excitement over rubbing elbows with Freedom's most interesting social caste slipped onto the coltish teen's face.

Toughness Save vs. DC 25. (1d20+6=19) Yeah. So. Bruised three times and stunned again, in addition to being staggered.

Toughness Save x2 vs DC 28 (1d20+7=18, 1d20+7=19) Fffff... Fine, rerolling the first one: Toughness Save reroll vs DC 28 (1d20.minroll(11) +7=21) That's a bruise and stun on the first, which mean the second roll was really at +6 (didn't think that through when I was rolling, sorry). He fails the second roll by ten, so he's got two bruises, is stunned and staggered. He'll burn his last HP to remove the stun, I guess.

"Fine," Trevor assured Erin, a stab of irrational guilt lancing through his gut. Of course he was alright; he'd been well away from the worst of the chaos. Reflexively, he reached out to touch the auburn haired girl's cheek, hesitating halfway there, suddenly unsure of himself. "Sorry I wasn't much help," he told her, suppressing a wince. "Didn't think anyone could-- Didn't realize how strong Mike really was."

The swashbuckler blinked at the animated vines. Even after all this time, the variety and general strangeness of his peers' powersets continued to find new ways to surprise him. "Nah, thanks anyway, Sprouts. I was in the middle of a patrol in the first place. Somebody's gotta catch the pursesnatchers while you wacky folks safeguard the fabric of reality or whatever, right?" Drawing and firing his grapple at a streetlamp on the street below, Jack waved jauntily as he departed. "Cheers, all. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" With a lighthearted chuckle, the fencer was swinging away in the West End night.

As the small party moved from the foyer to the backyard, Jill moved over her brother, tossing her knapsack at his forcefully, causing the exhausted fencer to sit up abruptly to catch it. Jack perked up even more when Eli walked out with Moira on his arm. "What." "I know, right?" his sister agreed quietly. "Honestly? Little jealous." The tanned young man paused briefly, distracted by the literal goddess while his brain slowly processed Jill's words. "Yeah... wait. Of which one?" he asked archly. The younger sibling gave him a smug smirk, and before he could press the issue the other guests began to arrive in dramatic fashion. Jill gave her bother a punch on the shoulder as Ace Danger set down his magic carpet. "Hey, it's Ace! Gay crushes for everyone!" Jack gave her a long, flat look. "...you are a horrible sister." "Learned for the best, hermano," she grinned infuriatingly as a nearby tree disgorged another pair of attendees. Jack rose to greet the couple as Jill walked around the plant, regarding the trunk with fascination. "Hey, Sprouts. And, who's - wait." He squinted Stesha's clean cut companion, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "You're not...?"

In the interest of avoiding continuing confusion, could the following be added under Jackie B's super-senses, respectively? [i]Erik is sensitive to both the electromagnetic spectrum and magical power. This awareness is filtered through to his regular senses in a mishmash of synesthesia, giving him a general impression of the energy's particulars and allowing him to recognize signatures he's sensed before.[/i] While we're at it, could the second note at the bottom of his sheet be changed to this: [b]Note:[/b] As a metamagi, Erik's powers are the result of a mystically enhanced genetic mutation, blurring the line between genetics and sorcery. This enhancement specifically allows him to form his borrowed energy into swords. Magic nullification removes the 'sword' descriptor from his Strike power, which means he will no longer benefit from his Attack Specialization or Improved Critical feats. Effects that nullify mutant powers shut his Strike off entirely. Done by Sandman XI

Alright, like it says, Esmé's powers are essentially identical to Erik's, so the drawback on the variable descriptor is just like his: she can only make a sword with the descriptors of a readily available energy source. Jack of all Blade's Powers and Tactics section has this spelled out in more detail, but that's the gist. AA, I see if I can work up some sort of concise explanation of the super-senses. EDIT: These are being added to Jack's sheet: That do it?

Presumably Grim and Jack have to reveal themselves Team Rocket style, with a shot of the tour guide uniforms flying through the air.

Jack's vision blurred with white hot pain as the bullet passed through him, the shock of it leaving him surprised to find himself in an ungainly heap, strewn across the chairs he'd been nimbly balancing on moments before. His lithe form shuddered with a cough, flecks of blood staining his lips, the sounds of the continuing battle sounding far, far away. The swordsman very badly wanted to lie there and take a very long nap. A distant, nagging voice told him that was a bad idea, but he pushed it away with sluggish annoyance. Out of the corner of his blurred vision, he caught movement, eyes focusing awkwardly to reveal a coltish form racing down the steps from the seats above him. Ellie... he thought dimly. His little sister, the would-be paramedic. After a puzzled moment, his mind snapped into crystal clarity. Coming to help me! No! His punctured body lurched upward, arms snapping out to grab anything to help him to his feet. Still hunched over in obvious pain, Jack gritted his teeth and threw an intense, meaningful look at his sibling, sill several rows into the highest section of seats. Ellie stopped in her tracks, uncertain. Reaching to his waist, Jack pulled the crimson sash there loose, adjusting it to form an ad hoc bandage for his wound as he turned himself back toward the ice. The pure determination surging through every fiber of his being easily swatted away Medea's mental intrusion. "Sorry, Meddy," he managed inarticulately, "no fat chicks." Ignoring the sorceress, he turned his vision upward, struggling to focus on the commentator's box. Even in his addled state, it was obvious who had shot him: Orion, the Crime League's sniper. Swing there? No. The cautious part of him, the part that insisted he wear a wig as an added precaution, that spurned him to train ever harder, screamed in warning. What he expects. Orion was purported to be the ultimate hunter; surly he would expect wounded, cornered prey to charge. Need to do something he won't expect. Something new... Blood trickled from the corned of his mouth as he reached out with his metamagi abilities, pulling in as much primal chill from the surrounding area as he could manage. As dark red trailed down his face, shimmering diamond blue light gathered in a swirling cloud around his clenched fist. Knuckled whitened and knees threatened to buckle as Jack raised his icy sword upward, pointing en guarde at the distant puff of concealing smoke drifting from the commentator's box. A predatory smirk played across Jack's lips as he closed on eye and sighted along the thin blade. "Hey! Orion!" he shouted, voice carrying even in the chaos of the surrounding melee. The fencer tightened his grip on the rapier. "Bang." The nimbus of distilled cold surged across the energy manipulator's body to the sword in his opposite hand, shooting forward like enraged quicksilver. The rapier's tip exploded upward as the razor thin blade extended toward the ceiling faster than the eye could follow. A second hole appeared in the thick glass next to the one created by Orion's shot, followed by a meatier, more satisfying impact, as the energy weapon skewered the dumbfounded gunman. As quickly as it had shot forward, the sword retracted to normal length, leaving no obvious wound as frostbite ripped through Orion's innards. With an outraged grunt, the villain collapsed to the floor of the booth. Down below, Jack supported himself on a nearby chair and took a staggering breath, drained by the stunt. With a toothy grin that held no mirth, the swordsman wiped the blood on his lips away on the back of his greatcoat's sleeve, spitting a mouthful of near-black fluid on the concrete. "Alright. Who else wants some?"

50% Miss Chance. (1d20=9) Nuts. Pop one more HP to make it a hit.

Initiative. (1d20+9=26)

Jaci will Startle as a move action, with a -5 penalty: Intimidate Check to Startle. (1d20+15=25) Then she'll chuck a car at Dynamo! Ranged Attack to Throw Car. (1d20+10=23) If that hits, her Strength at full Growth is +12, so DC 27. Lemme know, Geez, and I'll get the IC up.

Jack found it increasingly hard to concentrate as Bombshell moved about under his pin. On one hand, experience suggested that, as beautiful woman displaying interest in him, she was probably going to try to stab him or blow him up as soon as his guard down. On the other hand... Va va va voom. The swashbuckler quirked an eyebrow upward. "Miss Shell," he deadpanned, "you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?"

"Woah-ho, you can count backwards, too? Truly your skill set is vast and intimidating," Jack of all Blades drawled dryly as Avenger. "C'mon, you know I'm genetically incapable of keeping my mouth shut, and, not to be petulant, but y'know, I was here first." The swordsman shrugged amiably. "Look, go deal with your stuff. If you need a hand with anything, you know where to find me, much to my eternal chagrin." Inwardly, he was curious about just what was going on, but clearly there were personal issues at stake, and he was perfectly willing to give those involved their privacy.

As Erin exited the office, Trevor was already approaching, the black clad teen dragging a clearly rattled Shinnosuke Koyama roughly behind him, vice like grip on the other student's arm. When Alex arrived from the opposite direction, he threw L33T bodily to the floor at the feet of the young women. "Koyama has something to tell you," he informed his hostess casually, voice as light as if he were commenting on the clement weather. Turning to Erin, however, a shadow of emotion crept onto his stoic expression. "Everyone's alright?" Despite his wording, it was clear he was less interested in the well being of the group as a whole than her own condition after the chaos on the dance floor and was simply didn't want to give the impression that he doubted her capability. Knowing Erin could handle herself was a very different thing from quelling the sharp pang of horror he'd felt as she was thrown about, and his inability to held in the moment was a red hot frustration in his gut.

Disguise Check. (1d20+10=26) Auto 33 Bluff.