Gizmo

Alright, Jack will walk straight into the middle of everything and Fascinate the lot of them with a 33 DC.

Couple quick things: On Midnight II's page, his Toughness should be +9 total, since his costume now has 3 ranks of Protection. His melee Attack should also be +15 (9 + 6 ranks of Attack Focus). On Jack's page, that new rank of Denfensive Roll should put his Toughness at +8. DONE BY SHAENTHEBRAIN

Midnight II Edits Alright, 10PP free, caps to meet and away we go. First, let's change his weight to 145 lbs. Kid's been working out (and had a sandwich). Now, drop 2 of his 3 ranks in Sneak Attack, and use them to raise his Strength to 16 (+3) 1PP to add a forth rank of Equipment. I'll spend the 5ep like so: 1ep - bring the Protection from his costume to 3 ranks 1ep - raise the Toughness on the Night Cycle to 8 3ep - [b][u]Escrima Sticks[/u]: Strike 2[/b] ([i]Power Feat:[/i] Mighty); [i]Cost:[/i] 3ep For the sake of argument, that makes his new DC Block: Unarmed -- DC18/Toughness -- Bruised Escrima Sticks -- DC20/Toughness -- Bruised Escrima Sticks w/ Sneak Attack -- DC22/Toughness -- Bruised For his midnight mist power, add the Flaw Touch Range and the Extra Free Action for a total PP cost of 3: [b]Obscure 3[/b] [midnight mist (gaseous cloud, mutant); visual, 25’ radius, [i]Extras:[/i] Continuous, Free Action, [i]Flaws:[/i] Fades, Touch Range, [i]Drawback:[/i] Cannot reposition, countered by air and wind powers] [8pp] 2PP to bring his Gadgets to a Move Action: [b]Gadgets 2[/b] [utility coat and belt; 10 points, hard to loose, [i]Extras:[/i] Move Action] [16pp] Turn +1 of regular Attack Bonus into 2 ranks of Attack Focus (melee), so his new bonuses are +9 (+15 melee). Drop two ranks of regular Defense, and buy 3 ranks of Dodge Focus, for +13 (+3 flat-footed) and a net gain of 1PP (5PP free). Stick those 5PP into skills, for 20 ranks. Split that up like so: 1 Intimidate 1 Knowledge (tactics) 3 Medicine 1 Perform (dance) 13 Sense Motive 1 Stealth Whew! Jack of all Blades Edits This'll be easier. The big one is spending 4PP to increase his Energy Blade a rank: [b]Energy Sword 6[/b] (Corrosion, [i]Power Feats:[/i] Alternate Power, Improved Critical (19-20), Mighty, Variable Descriptor 2 [Any Energy], [i]Drawbacks:[/i] Limited [Available, Concentrated Energy Types], [i]Extras:[/i] Penetrating) [28PP] [list][b]Alternate Power: Energy Sword Flurry 6[/b] (Damage, [i]Power Feats:[/i] Improved Critical (19-20), Mighty, Variable Descriptor 2 [Any Energy], [i]Drawbacks:[/i] Limited [Available, Concentrated Energy Types], [i]Extras:[/i] Autofire 3) [27PP][/list] 1PP for another rank of Attack Focus (melee). 1PP for another rank of Defensive Roll. 1PP for another rank of Dodge Focus. 2PP for another 2 ranks of Luck. Like I said, easy. DONE BY SHAENTHEBRAIN

This'd be up Jack's alley; he's more the sparing type, and Midnight's build isn't really ready for PvP action yet.

Even in the dimness of the streetlamp lit night, the lenses of Midnight's mask let him make out the trio of ski mask wearing thugs running out of the smashed window to a small electronics shop, arms laden with ill gotten gains. The thieves piled into a car waiting outside with a forth criminal, and peeled off with screeching tires. "Don't let go," he instructed as the Night Cycle smoothly increased its already prodigious speed in pursuit. Within the span of a moment, they'd pulled alongside the speeding sedan, close enough that Midnight was able to reach out and tap lightly on the driver's window. Glowing red eyes shone through his helmet's visor as he slowly and deliberately shook his head.

Took a couple little liberties with Colt and Grim to explain why the Interceptors aren't crashing the party. Let me know if anything needs changing.

The Interceptors' Brownstone Apartment Building "So, wait," Jack of all Blades requested, furrowing his brow, "does that mean Dracula's coming for the kid, or the kid is Dracula?" "I didn't think to ask," Vince replied from the nearby television. "Duck!" The fencer squatted on his perch on the couch as Colt's quick shooting knocked a cloud of bats out of the air. Jack used the opportunity to sweep his fiery rapier in an arc around his feet, keeping the horde of rats blanketing the floor at bay for a few more seconds. Claws dug into the wall, Grim used her glamour to summon wooden boards to keep the larger, howling beasts outside from knocking down the door while assorted vermin swarmed through every crack and gap in the walls. Vince's image cringed as a stream of cockroaches skittered across his monitor. "I'll just tell him you're busy, then." "That'd be good!" Jack shouted, kicking a rat off of his boot. "Freakin' vampires..."

"Just outside the city," responded to Warren's question with uncharacteristic promptness, simultaneously tossing the bag he'd picked up to it's owner at the guitarist's instance. The lanky youth pointedly hadn't learned the specifics of Erin's origin, but he'd picked up enough subtext to know she carefully skirted the topic whenever possible. The new arrival had no way of knowing that, of course, but it seemed best to avoid an awkward pause so soon into Warren's time at Claremont. "Family estate," he elaborated, knowing that the implication of wealth was enough to grab most people's attention, one way or another.

"Mmm," Trevor murmured in confirmation. Steering back into the city, he began to accelerate again, the dull reflections of the Fens' neon signs flickering across his helmet's streamlined surface. Seedy shops and dilapidated buildings flew by as they zigzagged through the streets, hugging corners and picking up speed on the straightaways. After a long silence, he spoke again. "Not about doing something that comes easy," the lanky teen intoned calmly. "Doing what matters, what's right."His tone was as soft as ever, but it carried with it an understated confidence. It wasn't a philosophical position or a considered opinion, it was a fact, an ultimate truth of which he could not be dissuaded.

Jack gave Ace a sidelong glace as he shook his hand vigourously, as though working feeling back into it. "Oh, well, good. I was worried there'd be a round of antibiotics or something." The swordsman cracked his neck in either direction and rolled his shoulders. Alright then. Let's get going." After a pause, he added, "You'd better drive. I don't think my evil hand knows how to drive stick."

As his mist cleared, Midnight shook off the blows he'd taken and assessed the situation. It wasn't hard to guess what Havok's contingency plan was; depending on the explosives being used, the robots could potentially level the entire building or more. There was no way of knowing how long they had, and the only one capable of getting the primed bombs to a safe distance was still reeling. Analyze and counter, the faceless avenger reminded himself. Disabling each bomb manually might take too long, but the arrogant armored villain had activated the self-destruct sequence remotely. One hand produced a device from his belt which automatically recorded limited information about any localized transmissions, while the other retrieved a transmitter from a pocket in his jacket. Sliding them together, Midnight's glowing red eyes narrowed as he concentrated, running through the possibilities. The beeping from the robots continued to accelerate as he worked, filling his ears. Finally, he activated a signal of his own, overriding the command Havok has sent.

Trevor had to quirk an eyebrow at Erin's explanation, though the twitch was buried beneath his mask and helmet. Successful attempts to intentionally bestow metahuman abilities were relative rare. There were rumors of black market DNA manipulation, but nothing that could be substantiated. The real question, though, was why someone would go to the trouble of creating the sort of serum his passenger was describing and then leave the recipient to learn to fight on her own. Even as his mind automatically slid the pieces of the puzzle into place, filing away information and noting oddities, he resolved to let the issue rest. If she wanted to elaborate, she could. "I'd say you're on your way," he opined as he pulled away from the riverbank back onto the city streets. "Haven't really thought that far ahead; still getting a handle on my powers." His grandfather hadn't been able to offer much insight into developing his metahuman abilities, naturally, and Trevor was less sure in their use than he was his other skills. Hopefully training at Claremont would help to alleviate that uncertainty.

Trevor's helmeted head tilted to one side slightly as he considered. "Not that long," he admitted. "The acrobatics were harder, and the martial arts. Driving just... came naturally." He shrugged his jacketed shoulders. Most of his training had been a matter of slowly learning from his mistakes and committing them to memory. Riding the Night Cycle had been more like gradually working up the confidence to try more and more difficult maneuvers. Not generally one to press others for personal information, the lanky youth felt compelled to return Erin's show of interest. "If we're talking 'like nothing I've seen', how about you? The way you move..." Trevor's face grew warm beneath his mask as he decided to rephrase his sentence before it escaped his lips. "My grandfather told me stories about Lady Liberty - the one from Liberty League, I mean." A sound came through the air filter that might have been a short chuckle. "Most of them fawned over Siren, back then, but Grandad... she's always 'Lady Liberty' to him. Never just 'Liberty'. He's not a guy who wastes words."

"The mist is better," Trevor smiled under his mask. "They see it coming, stand still for a second, then try to wave it away." Taking his hand off of the bike, he guided it with his knees while miming panicked flailing. "Gets to their face, sometimes they scream. One fainted." As his sentences became more terse, his manner slipped back into that of Midnight, and his gloves creaked faintly as he firmly gripped the handlebars again. It wasn't the way he squared his shoulders that made him seem somehow larger; it was the implied weight he carried on them.

"Both," Trevor explained, keeping his eyes on the edge of the docks in front of them. "Outside is the original Night Cycle. Falling apart when I found it. Replaced everything, rebuilt it by hand." The black clad youth paused for a moment, and when he continued much of the manner of his civilian identity had crept into his voice. "You build something yourself, see where everything goes, how it all fits together... you know exactly what it can do. How hard you can push it, when you have to be gentle." There was a hesitancy in his tone that suggested he was trying to convey a feeling which surpassed his ability to describe it in words.

Nice smile, nicer laugh, the small voice amended, and with the wind whipping by and Erin leaning over his shoulder the rest of his mind was inclined to agree for once. Turning left after the bridge, he hopped the bike nimbly over a couple of low barriers to drive along the very edge of the river, slowing down to glide all but silently, the Night Cycle reflecting dimly in the dark waters.

Trevor responded to Faith's curtsy with a deep nod that carried with it the impression of a restrained bow. He recognized the mannerisms of the social elite. Over the years he'd attended many parties for the rich and bored while representing his grandfather, who was no longer as able to go out and about as in his younger days. The original Midnight had insisted that it was as important to learn to deal with the upper crust as it was to deal with the lowest criminal, wryly suggesting that there was some overlap between the two groups. It wasn't a world that Trevor found terribly compelling, but it seemed only fair to return Faith's courtesy. From her conversation with Erin he also inferred that the petite blonde was dating Mark, the school's resident Lucas. Given her apparently chipper demeanor, that made a degree of sense, although Trevor was mildly surprised that the energetic young hero's attention span could accommodate a serious relationship. Evidently he'd been too quick to judge. The dark haired teen didn't react to Warren's explanation of his metahuman abilities, simply noting them for future reference. Shouldering one of the new arrival's bags, he dryly intoned, "Not an elf." It wasn't immediately obvious whether he was making a joke or simply stating a fact.

Jack tumbled his lighter back and forth across his knuckles idly. "Yeah, see, this all sound suspiciously like 'blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah," He mimed a mouth with his other hand. "Seriously, less talking, more chopping firewood, huh?" The swordsman could appreciate the importance of a good plan, but this wasn't a terribly complicated situation. Free the hostages, stop the weird plant cannibalism and make with stabity-stab. Jack figured they'd be better served by quick action than overwrought preparation.

Well, Jack wants to actually do stuff, so: Initiative. (1d20+9=25)

Beneath his mask, Trevor's grin actually bared his teeth. "Flying?" he asked as the Pramas Bridge grew larger before them. "Can do that." Leaning to one side and hauling up on the handlebars, Midnight sent the front of the Night Cycle rearing up and sliding to the right, coming down on the bridge's suspension cable. The bike sped up the steep incline, navigating the intertwined cables like a tightrope. Rather that slowing as they reached the apex of the bridge, he poured on the speed, sending them soaring though the air far above the South River. A weightless moment later, the bike's rear wheel connected lightly on the downward cable, riding with the front of the motorcycle sticking up in the air before landing solidly at the end of the bridge and tearing into Riverside.

"Done." The Night Cycle roared to life, tires squealing as the bike abruptly accelerated. Shooting out of the Claremont Campus, it turned on a dime to rocket down the road into the heart of Freedom City, leaving a speed limit sign rattling in its dust as the speedometer jumped up into the triple digits. In the middle of the night, the streets were all but empty, and the black motorcycle maneuvered around its fellow vehicles like dark mercury pouring past smooth pebbles. The corners of Midnight's mouth turned up beneath his mask and helmet as he leaned forward and gunned the acceleration again.

Midnight paused for a long moment at the question. "Just... hold on," he answered finally, indicating his own waist, thankful that his air filter masked the tone in his voice. "Where to? Lady's choice," the cyclist offered. How about a drive-in, so you can stretch while you pretend to yawn, Hunter? he berated himself. Relative inexperience might not have been enough to keep him from patrolling, but it was a good reason to be very careful. It certainly wasn't befitting of his inherited codename to be so easily distracted.

When Erin arrived, Trevor was leaning against the Night Cycle in his full costume. Next to the bike the new Midnight's reasons for altering his grandfather's uniform were clear; the long coat would have been dangerously impractical when riding a motorcycle. Even so, the lanky youth seemed larger now, despite the tighter fitting jacket. Perhaps it was simply a matter of posture or the way the matte black clothes blended into the shadows, but Midnight seemed to occupy a space greater than his physical form. Spotting his colleague for the evening, Midnight tucked his hat into a saddle bag and withdrew a pair of helmets, lobbing one to Erin. Quickly donning his own and mounting the Night Cycle, he revved the engine experimentally, savouring the sound of the well tuned machinery. Although it retained its retro appearance, he'd all but rebuilt the bike in its entirety by hand. He gestured for Erin to get on with a tilt of his head.

Nullify Check. (1d20+10=29) Bam.

Alright, let's see if I can get away with this: Midnight rearranges his Gadgets like so: Nullify Time Bombs 10 [counter command, Extra: Area, Flaw: Full Action] [10pp] Then pops his HP for an extra standard action, combining it with his move action to use it on the robots. The idea here is he's countering whatever command code Havok sent to the robots to start the countdown.