Gizmo
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One of Erik's eyes half closed in an incredulous wince. "With...? Do you seriously talk like this?" the younger man asked, bemused. "'Cause I just got used to the 'grr, argh, vengeance from the shadows' thing and this is kind of disturbing. I swear, I taste terrible with fava beans." His tone and words were light, but Erik had simply put his mouth on autopilot while his mind raced. Argh, what do I do? How did I let this happen? Stupid! He turned his attention briefly back to the conversation. "Uh, yeah, somewhere else would be good, sure, yes. Please."
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Erik pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it as though betrayed. After a long moment he returned it to the side of his ear to speak into it. "Jack? Ol' buddy? Ol' pal?" he began with the utmost calm and understanding. "How did you get this number? Wait, backing up for a moment, how did you get my name?" The swashbuckler kept his tone polite, but his normally smooth voice cracked slightly with stress as he ran a hand through his dusty brown hair. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap... He might have gotten on well enough with Avenger, but the blood drinking undead wasn't anywhere near the top of the list of people he was comfortable knowing where his family lived.
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The corner of Erik's mouth rose in a lopsided grin, though the look in his eyes made it clear that he wasn't ready to let himself off the hook so easily. "Thanks, kid. Actually, I kinda know what you mean. I've got, well, it's a sort of synesthesia, you could say. See, smell, taste things other people don't." The fencer shrugged smoothly, leaving out the fact that Alex herself was giving off a wafting aura of unpleasantly overripe strawberries thanks to her particular brand of Terminus energies. Thankfully they were nowhere near the radiation bath Mona had given off, but it did make the hair on Erik's arms stand on end a bit. "So the 'seeing things differently' thing? Yeah. At least you're putting it to good use, right?"
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Erik looked chagrined. "Aw, kid, I didn't mean it like that. Hell, you think I was trying to single-handedly revitalize the city's economy from the ground up when I was your age? Let alone actually succeeding?" He rubbed the back of his head and winced, eyes turning skyward. "I just get kinda overprotective of the neighbourhood, you know? Plus the talking without thinking thing. My offened-not offended teenage girl ratio hasn't been that great this quarter, seriously." Recalling his unfortunate exchange with Wander at the sparring matches only deepened his wince, and the athletic young man's shoulders slumped. It seemed like every conversation he had devolved into an argument. For a while he'd blamed the hellfire left over from the demonic invasion, or found other ways of rationalizing it, but he had to admit that the common denominator in each case was him. "Look, I'm sorry. I was trying to help, but I'm giving you as much grief as the idiots with the fruit. How can I make it up to you?"
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The acrobat's eyebrows all but disappeared under his short, dusty brown bangs. "'Similar socioeconomic...'?" he repeated reflexively. "Damn, Half Pint, that's ice cold." The tanned young man looped one thumb into a beltloop on his jeans and gestured with the other hand for mild emphasis. "We're not talking about bellcurved data and universal truths here, they're real people, y'know? Sounds like your heart is in the right place, and I get that you're a busy sixteen year old genius etcetera, etcetera, but 'it's for their own good' only gets you so far, see?" Thought emphatic, Erik's tone wasn't accusatory as he rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Tell you what, you got time for the ten cent tour of the West End?"
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Trevor considered in silence for a long moment, giving legitimate thought to Eve's question. --Not really,-- he decided finally. --The training, yes, but nothing so manifestly unfair as your disqualification.-- The tone of his mental projections made it clear that he had no intention of trying to spin the situation to spare the girl's feelings; the dark haired teen wasn't about to patronize her. --But this time you chose to give that up to save the world, Eve,-- he pointed out. Doesn't sound like someone who'd have been happy dedicating her life to jumping about in front of crowds. You're a hero.-- Trevor shook his head firmly. --That's not hereditary, not taught; that's you.--
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Trevor considered. "I think that's mostly for the acronym," he opined. "Wouldn't worry about the food; I know a couple of the guys in the kitchen. They know what they're doing." The lanky young man surveyed the crowd as they walked. "...there'll be people I'm acquainted with," he allowed slowly. Climbing the marble stairs, the pair were met a severe looking man with a narrow black tie and receding hairline who accepted a small card from Trevor before turning to announce to the ballroom, "Mr. Trevor Hunter and Miss Erin White." Only the attendees closest to the door turned to offer polite nods and raised glasses in greeting, and the teens were able to enter with little fanfare. The rear third of the hall was filled with tables, numbers attached to the centerpieces direction everyone to their assigned seating. The remaining floor space was left open between the tables and the space reserved for a podium and string quartet at the far end, and most of the guest mingled there, the low hum of smalltalk filling the massive room up to it's ornate ceiling.
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Erik blinked and rubbed the back of his dusty brown hair. "That's... okay. I'm good." The athletic young man tilted his head to the side. "If you don't mind me saying, kinda sounds like something you've rehearsed," he noted before spreading his arms to encompass the entire neighbourhood. "Folks around here don't like change, and they sure don't trust a free lunch. It's not like it'd be the first time they've been screwed over, y'know? Slideshows? Not gonna win 'em over so much."
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"Damn..." Erik murmured softly, sticking his hands back in his pockets dejectedly. He worked as hard as he could to keep his neighbouthood safe, but it was still a tough place to live compared to much of Freedom City. "Shoulda known Tony was having problems," he muttered to himself, suppressing an involuntary wince. Between his patrolling and training he'd had little time to stay in touch with everyone he knew around the West End, but that did little to dull his feelings of guilt. He looked over to the upbeat teenager. "What kinda changes are we talking about, here? I mean, it's Tony's, y'know?"
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There was no way for Alex to know it, but Erik's metamagi awareness of ambient energies confirmed what she was saying. After his unpleasant encounter with Mona's unbridled Terminus emissions, there was little chance of the young man failing to notice the presence of those particular nauseating forces. Instead he turned his attention to the hardware store. "What, Tony's place? Aw man, I worked there part-time for a while! It's seriously going under?"
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...electrocuting? (Jack isn't sure where you're going with this 'not smashing' thing.) Looking at her stats, she doesn't have too much else gong on, quote. What did you have in mind?
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Erik blinked in surprise, reflexively accepting the girl's proffered hand as the produce flew about. "Uh, hey, don't worry about. I figured you could have handled things, but you shouldn't have to, right? Can't have those morons giving the neighbourhood a bad name," the young man noted with a charming, lopsided grin. If what Doc and Lynn said is true, she could have more than 'handled things'. Better that her hand wasn't forced, he mused, although it was hand to imagine the petite teenager as a threat despite her telekinetic display. "Not buying up Terminus access points? Well, that's a relief," he chuckled
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Trevor nodded the valet as the redheaded young man took the keys from Erin. "Pete," he greeted amiably as the young woman took his arm. "Hey, Trev," the freckled young man returned easily before tipping his cap in Erin's direction. "Miss. Hoo hoo, broke out one of the good ones, huh?" he noted as he took his place behind the wheel. "You always bring me the best toys, Slim." The dark haired teen pointed a jaunty finger at the valet and winked, a hugely exaggerated gesture from the typically reserved youth. "Bring her back in one piece, huh?" Pete grinned and waved as he drove off, leaving the pair to head towards the entrance to the hall. "I suppose," Trevor replied to Erin's observation. He noted a banner hanging above the massive double doors. "'Benefit for People Against Deforestation, Land Overwork and Carnivores'. Looks like vegetarian meals after all."
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Erik straightened from his instinctive lunge as he looked over his shoulder at the teenager. The fencer took a step back and to the side to stand next to her, arms crossed. "No, see, a 'misunderstanding' is when someone isn't sure if there are fifty states or fifty-one." He tanned young man turned his attention back to the crowd. "This is a bunch of grown men and women who should damn well know better!" He pointed an angry finger at the man who'd just spoken. "If she was dangerous she'd've kicked your butt already, tough guy! Go home," he demanded.
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Stabbing? Smashing? Probably something more related to Valkyrie, since she's getting established.
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Hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, Erik Espadas walked through the West End whistling to himself. A fitted, deep red t-shirt displayed the athletic young man's lithe musculature, and a short style kept his dusty drown hair away from his eyes as he sauntered down the street, a distinct swagger to his steps. Idle thoughts of errands to be run were driven from his head, however, as his ears perked up at the sound of shouting. Breaking out into a sprint, the acrobat rounded the corner to find a young woman enduring an angry mob from behind a glimmering force field. Even before his mind recognized her as Alexandra Albright, the teen who had come out as a Terminus baby on national television, Erik's legs launched him forward with surprising speed, sneakers skidding against cement as he snagged an overripe apple out of the air before it could rebound off of the translucent barrier. Throwing it to the ground, he rounded on the crowd, placing himself between them and Alex. "The hell is wrong with you people?!" he all but snarled.
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Falling in behind Eve with a amiable inclination of his head, Trevor stood silently next to her, overlooking the zen garden until she 'spoke'. The lanky teen considered for a long moment. --Don't feel much, either way. Useful, though not very powerful.-- He shrugged lightly, and to anyone watching it would have seemed a random gesture as the pair stood in stony silence. --Strange at first; got used to them.-- He raised an eyebrow as he gave the gymnast a sidelong glance. --I assume your own feelings are more... complex?--
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They're the Nazi version of Hydra or AIM or Cobra or what have you.
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Jill coughed awkwardly into a closed fist, though it wasn't clear if she was covering up embarrassment or a smirk. "Ah, yeah, no, don't worry about it." The teenager adjusted her dusty brown ponytail and straightened her fitted vest with both hands. "Trust me, I get enough... well, anyway, this is probably one of those 'never speak of this again' things, huh?" Jill's angular features arranged themselves into a look of serious contemplation. "Can you make like anything? Organ transplants, bulk food?"
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Would Midnight II have had time to come up with a Master Plan on the way over from the airport? I haven't really gotten a sense of how the feat works in practice yet.
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:effort: I kid! Determination! Woo!
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Much of Trevor's carefully schooled expression had returned, but a smile continued to pull at the corners of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes conveyed an uncharacteristic lightheartedness. "Maybe next time, Bonnie," he drawled dryly. His body language was completely at ease, and if he was watching the young woman driving the car, it certainly wasn't out of protectiveness for the vehicle. Erin's obvious enjoyment seemed to be contagious, and he returned her smile with a magnanimous nod. "Glad to see someone enjoying her. Garage was left for years; been slowly restoring them."
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I'd be up for something, quote, probably with Jack rather than Midnight. As for ideas, well, a Norse-themed heroine's gotta have some issues with SHADOW, right?
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Jack stepped over to the MAVERIC and pulled a radio out through the open window. "So, when you say 'our ground forces', you mean 'that one guy with the pointy stick', huh?" the fencer drawled. "No sweat, Bill, I got this one. Do me a favour, though," he continued, rubbing a thumb over the stubble on his chin. "Make with the lasers and draw me a line in the sand, around the building, okay?" Rolling his shoulders, Jack clenched and unclenched his free hand, a sudden shock of electricity leaping from nearby powerlines to solidify into a sparking rapier.
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Jack of all Blades wandered into the hub of the Underground to find the rest of the Interceptors gathered around the monitors there. "What, you guys afraid you'll miss your stori-" The swashbuckler was cut off as Vince appeared on the wall beside him with a shushing gesture before waving him over and blinking away once more. Jogging over to the screens with a frown, Jack arrived in time to catch one of the several news stations playing of the extensive bank of computers replaying part of an interview with a slim teenage girl. The swordsman whistled low. "Gutsy," he commented appreciatively.
