Gizmo

"Easy, kid," Jack drawled sarcastically. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. For all we know, it could be a friendly mummy." The fencer spread his hands. "How would you feel if you were a mummy, been trapped is a sarcophagus for who knows how long, you finally get out, you're trying to get back on your bandaged, surprisingly preserved feet, and the first thing you see is some guy coming as you with a magic axe." He shook his head sadly. "That's not the kind of impression we want to leave a new Freedom City immigrant with, amirite?"

The bank was only a small local branch, with a pair of ATMs by the entrance leading to the main room. A single teller worked behind the counter and a single office lay to the side, the mismatched chairs outside the door surrounding a coffee table laden with magazines from the past decade. Erik waved to the lone security guard as he stepped inside. Martin Bey had been working there for as long as the younger man could remember, a born and bred West Ender. Likewise, the elder of the Espadas children knew Mrs. Janice, the middle aged bank teller working that morning. Her niece had been in the same year as Erik in school, and the dotting aunt had often arrived to drive her home after class. There was a short line in front of the counter, and Erik sauntered over to flip through a dated National Geographic, in no great hurry to conduct his business. Skimming the articles, he almost didn't notice when a young woman walked confidently into the bank. About his age, the petite blonde woman sported a fetching pixie cut and a dimpled smile. Despite the chill outside, she wore black denium shorts and a deep red top with a striking heart-shaped cut out in the chest, off set by a matching set of thick chain link belt and choker necklace. She clearly made an impression on Bey, who held a hand to his hat as he turned to watch her enter. Erik's eyes widened as well, in recognition. The young woman was Rose Copas, a former beauty pageant queen and extreme athlete. She also happened to he his opposite number from the mysterious House of Cups, and a dangerous supervillainess. Time to earn that steady paycheque, he reflected.

Erik Espadas had to admit, of all the advantages joining The Interceptors as Jack of all Blades had yielded, a steady paycheque was one of the best. After a few years working every part time gig that would have him, struggling to pay bills around the house while putting away enough into his sister's tuition fund, there was something to be said for knowing how much you were pulling down any given week, and being able to plan accordingly. Of course, there was still the matter of making sure everything ended up in the right accounts, that all the right amounts got mailed got mailed to the right utilities and so forth. Erik suspected he could have just asked Vince or Doktor A to take care of it automatically, but the fencer was in many ways old fashioned at heart, and he still preferred to do his banking face to face, seeing for himself where his money was going. That was what brought him to his local branch on a blustery March morning. Though the wind was chilly, the bodysuit he wore under his civilian clothes kept him warm. The rest of his 'work clothes' rested in a beaten backpack he slung over one shoulder. Though the energy manipulating hero had long since decided on a policy of being forever prepared, a small part of him had to admit it felt a little bit like tempting fate.

Solo thread for Jack of all Blades and his opposite numbers: Jaci o' Cups and Coinpurse Jack.

Erik snorted and shook his head slightly. "I'm not even touching that one," he smirked. "Besides," he added philosophically, "you can't force a bar fight. Taints the whole experience." The fencer set his glass down on the table. "These things have to occur naturally, develop organically. There's a purity at stake."

Erik had a momentary impulse to bring up the waitress's vocal interest in Billy, if only out of a strange fascination with Lynn's tiny person rage. Her fists were small enough to use the same principle of surface area which made narrow blades so dangerous. He decided against it immediately, however, largely because he couldn't be sure he'd avoid being on the receiving end of said wrath. The fencer sighed. "Just as well; we'd have to move up to pro teams pretty soon, and before you knew it we'd've permanently ruined Freedom's chances in the national leagues."

Sorry, Cy, but 'Star's the most expressly powerful guy there, which means he gets to be the Worf. "She negated Dark Star's powers?! Oh man, she must be really powerful! Things look dire for our heroes now!" If he were a robot hero, he'd have gotten blow up by now, a la Vision or Red Tornado. In the meantime, how great is "Almost Got 'Im"? Probably my favourite episode out of the entire series.

I figured I should probably wait to find out how Jester and Colt's attacks turned out before taking Jack's turn.

Well, this is pretty much Ace's rodeo. What's the play, coach? Am I mixing my metaphors there?

I doubt it'll make much difference in the long run, but it occurs to me to ask if the lady in the shadows had concealment from all senses, or just visual. Generally speaking, anyone tossing around enough magic to counteract Dark Star's powers would kinda stand out, energy-wise.

Erik leaned further back in his chair, looking at the ceiling, then down into his drink. No topic of conversation immediately sprung to mind. Examining the nails of his empty hand, he let out a long breath then drummed his fingers on the table for a moment before turning to Billy. "Y'wanna start another bar fight?"

Tch, knew I shoulda tried rolling. Ah well. Presumably he missed it because he was too pumped to finally get to do some real sword fighting.

It seemed apropos. I figure chaos magic wouldn't come across as evil or creepy, just really, really random. Did none of us make the Notice check, Sand?

That... is super gross. Let's, uh, put that in the last resort column, right after Fulcrum's Terminus emissions. Seriously, why isn't anybody powered by sunshine or positive vibrations or something?

Jack stepped into the alley between Jester and Colt. "Hey, Yakko, tone it down, huh?" The energies of the clown's outfit fluctuated wildly to the swashbuckler's senses, transitioning from the sound of a thousand springing pogo sticks to the smell of rhubarb and pineapple smores. Jack sighed inwardly. Chaos magic. Joy. "Nice magic pants," he quipped to Colt before moving forward. "'Scuse me, 'Star." With a dramatic snap Jack pulled a tendril of the cosmic hero's gravitational powers to to his out stretched hand, a pitch black rapier of voidstuff forming there. He twirled it experimentally, smiling dangerously at its weight and heft. "Sword fights'd fall under my domain, yeah?"

That's fair. Any suggestions for an alternative?

S'kinda what I thought; I just wanted to reflect that he knows the West End much better than he does the rest of the city. As far as Ellie goes, she really is supposed to be a lousy liar. Basically both of the Espadas kids are pretty serious, responsible individuals at heart, but Erik learned to bottle a lot of that up and play if off around other people. All of his joking and theatrics are sort of a constant Bluff he's running. His sister, on the other hand, comes off as kind of abrasive, in a Daria sort of way. Consequently, high Bluff and/or Diplomacy doesn't really scan for her, while a high Taunt is pretty much essential. I suggested Sense Motive to reflect the idea of her cutting through people's comforting self images. So, instead of, "Ha ha, you're a big loser," she's more, "You're a big loser and here's a series of harsh observations to back up that thesis." Sort of an anti-Bluff.

Honestly? I think he's gonna make one out of Colt's magic pants. But yeah, he could easily leech off of Grim, 'Star or Jester for glamour, gravity or chaos magic descriptors respectively. It's always more fun to steal straight from his opponents, though! Should probably steal one of their regular swords just to be on the safe side, too.

So in the continuing effort to make the West End Jack's 'turf' and make him a little less ignorant (mechanically speaking), I was wondering if I could give him Knowledge (streetwise) pertaining only to that section of the city, maybe at a discount. It's not exactly going to break the bank to buy it normally; I'm just thinking about the flavour of it, kind of like the way Attractive is basically ranks at half price because they only apply half of the time. Using that as the baseline, would something like "Benefit (+8 Knowledge (streetwise) in the West End)" fly? Actually, since it's sort of related, got another skill related question. I've been monkeying around idly with some stats for Jack's sister, who'll likely become his sidekick down the line. Now, part of her character is that she's really good at zeroing in on someone's insecurities and needling them (it's deeply genetic, evidently) but she's not really a very good liar, since her insults are more about brutal honesty. With that in mind, I've been trying to work out a way to give her a high Taunt without a high Bluff. Since taunting is really demoralizing with Bluff, could I set something up that was essentially demoralizing with Sense Motive?

Jack's got Skill Mastery for an automatic 20 on his Notice check; he's using his energy awareness, too, which should give him some info, about the scene and the setting in general (gotta find out what he can make a sword out of!). Initiative (1d20+9=18) *sigh*

Erik blinked at Lynn's question, starting to speak then stopping. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and a trace of embarrassment slipped into his expression. "I, uh, that is..." The energy manipulator coughed awkwardly. "They just... kinda... work? I don't actually know." With a sheepish look Eric tapped the side of his head lightly. "I can't really sense my own energy the way I can with other people, y'know? Probably a good thing or there'd be, like, interference or something. I've only been able to guess, really. There was this thing with a card, but..." Erik shrugged."If I'm really connected to the other Jacks somehow, I think my abilities have to be at least partly magic. The Houses... our themes... it's all a little too cute to be coincidence. Still, the raw power, the source... that feels like it come from a deeper place, if that makes sense." The acrobat sighed, looking upward absently. "Or maybe I'm really one of the Glowy Sword People of Centauri Six and a Half. Couldn't say for sure."

Erik's expression flickered, mouth setting into a thin line as his eyes narrowed and the knuckles of his sword hand turned white around his glass. The flash of annoyance was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but when he spoke again it was with a deliberateness that suggested careful control. "Look, just... not tonight, alright?" Billy and Lynn were reminded that mere hours earlier their friend had worked himself into a cold but violent rage; as much as they might wish otherwise, all of the fencer's problems were not going to be solved with a few words and a stiff drink.

Rolling his eyes, Erik made gun from the fingers of one hand, miming shooting himself through the side of his head, while he used the other to pick up his drink. "Fantastic, I've got Abbot and Costello for wingmen. Talk about who's on first base." Taking a long sip, he regarded his companions coolly with lidded eyes. "You guys really don't get how I operate, do you?" The swordsman waved the question away before they could respond. "Regardless, I'm just getting off of a month during which I slept about four hours out of every forty-eight, the rest of which I alternated between pushing myself to my physical breaking point and solitary brooding whist crouching dramatically on rooftops and ornate gargoyles. Not exactly bringing my 'A game' tonight."

Jack gave Edge a flat look as he stepped away from the fallen Power Corps. Don't know if he's joking or not. Either way... Feh, teenagers with powers... He turned his gaze to Ace and shrugged. "Not much, it was a pretty simple smash-and-grab job. Apparently the buyers need that little post-it note by tonight, though, no excuses." The fencer craned his neck to get a better look at the scroll. "What d'you think? Planetary-alignment-occult-evoking-of-dead-gods? Resurrection-spell-on-the-anniversary-of-their-master's-death?"

Erik pulled a face that went far beyond a mere grimace, entering into the realm of abject horror. "I'll tell you what," he replied, composing himself quickly. "Leave the sword puns to me and we'll call it even. Tch, 'polishing my...' Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, y'know?" Taking a deep pull of his beverage, the fencer muttered to himself. "Nobody gives Mr. Two Barrels of Overcompensation a hard time..." His apparent agitation evaporated as one side of his frown turned upward in a toothy smirk. "Besides, who said anything about just one girl?"