Gizmo

Finishing his shot, Erik set the empty glass aside with a grimace. "Dios. Is this going to be, like, a thing now?" he asked the diminutive New Jerseyan. "'Cause I'm thinking I should maybe wait for her to figure out why my mojo's got that brimstoney-fresh scent before telling her that her badge really flatters her, ah, case files." What the fencer didn't mention was that, having been raised to respect police officers his entire life, this was one situation in which he was inclined toward professional courtesy. Regardless, he turned to his beer with a serious look. "You really don't need to be trying to set me up."

"What does the scouter say about his toughness save?" "It's over 19!" "What?! Over 19?! There's no way that can be right!" Yeah, so that was insane enough I felt obliged to give Jackie B an in-character response (Benefit #57 of a High Bluff: never letting on that you need a new pair of underwear). I can't believe that didn't even stun him! This is going to be rough...

Jack of all Blades' arc took him over the villainous Dark Star to land softy in front of him, pulling his flickering dimensional blade smoothly from the energy being's head as he went. Looking up, he expected to see their foe clutching his face in agony; the swordsman was stunned to find him instead shrugging off the attack with a featureless scowl. Well, nertz, Jack thought weakly as he braced himself for the inevitable retaliation. Outwardly, however, his confident demeanor remained unbroken. His eyes flicked to Ace and Avenger as he gestured to Darker Star with his free thumb and smirked. "Heh. Stabbed him in the face."

Jack of all Blades wasn't terribly surprised to find that their foe's portal was invisible from the rear which, he reflected, said an awful lot about his life experiences in general. Fortunately his energy awareness gave him a general idea of its location; unfortunately, it gave the villain the advantage of what amounted to a wall at his back. ...but not a very tall wall, the swashbuckler reflected slyly. While Dark Star's diabolical double focused on removing the 'un' from Avenger's undead condition, Jack coiled his legs under him and soared up and over the inky black doorway. Really don't want to know what happens if I undershoot this. Either luck or skill was with the acrobat as he momentarily found himself flying over the cosmic horror's head. "Guess if I want to keep your attention," Jack quipped as the startled doppelganger looked up, "I'll have to make a bigger impression!" So saying he buried his rapier of dimensional magic to the hilt right between the energy being's eyes.

Ha! Social fighters so crazy! It looked like EDS had +15 to Sense Motive, right? Hrm, that's pretty good. Probably can't get away with many move-action Bluffs... Alright, Jackie B will move to get around to the other side of the portal, standard action Feint at DC 31 then surge to Power Attack 5 (1d20+10=30). Oh snap! Critilicious. That's DC 22 + 5 + 5 + probably 4 from Autofire = DC 36, with whatever descriptors Phantom's powers usually have, since the sword is made out of her magic.

Taking in his suddenly altered surroundings with a raised eyebrow, Jack of all Blades patted himself down, making sure everything was still attached in the proper places. He recalled registering a powerful blast of magical energy moments before, and now his energy sense felt oddly dulled. Can't feel the power lines, he frowned inwardly as he instinctively felt about for the city's ever-present electricity. Glancing at his similarly displaced comrades, all of them neatly arranged in a circle, the acrobat adjusted the collar of his greatcoat against the dreary rain. "Did we just... respawn?" A response to Dark Star's question was cut short by a sudden scream, sending Jack sprinting after the cosmic hero without further thought.

Well, Jackie B totes has 'special senses', but I take your point. I guess my question is whether the plan is to just buy Phantom time by keeping EDS busy, or whether it's time to start attacking him in earnest.

Hey, turns out Jackie B can make DC 20 Notice checks at will with Skill Mastery! Apparently I'm better at this character building thing than I realized. Go figure. Okay, so, let me make sure I understand what's going on. EDS is still technically in space, right? So, out of melee range if Stabby McJokejoke wants to keep breathing? Jack's 'behind' the portal now; is this one of those 'can only see it from one side' sort of bends in time and space? Beyond that, the plan is still to get him into the actual room, yeah?

Initiative. (1d20+9=20) Boo.

Rolls and lols? Anyway, can we get a little more description about what's going on? Is this a 'blink in and out of existence' sort of thing or a 'reality seems to warp around us' sort of thing? Are we wearing out regular costumes or wacky fantasy versions? What's the state of any technological stuff we might be carrying: lighters, electromagnetic screwdrivers, affectionately named firearms, etc.? I ask because I care!

Clinking his glass with the others, Erik covered a twitch at the corner of his mouth with a light snort. "Tch. You're gonna feel totally awkward about this conversation later when I go through my 'Demon in a Bottle' phase." The swashbuckler shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "Still, anything to further my image as a rakish rogue, amirite?" While the unlikely couple across the table from him were comfortable expressing their genuine emotions directly, the remaining Interceptor had long ago fallen into the habit of operating beneath layers of humour and innuendo. Even so, as he sipped through a wry smirk, some of the weariness that had graced his visage over the past weeks seemed to ebb away as his movements became a little less guarded.

Jack gave the cowboy a flat look as they took their seats. "Right, silly me. 'Cause my first assumption about the land of flying motorcycles should have been 'boardgame rich environment'." Noting the lack of live music with moderate disappointment, the swashbuckler did his best to suppress his need to move. Sitting down always felt so awkward; he preferred to have his feet under him and ready to reflexively spring into acrobatics. He covered his growing disquiet with a drawl. "So, step two of the intervention is binge drinking, huh? Unorthodox, but I like the creativity."

Jack of all Blades somersaulted forward off of the top of the book shelf as the air filled with tiny stone projectiles. The swordsman was gratified to find that his recent obsessive training had apparently paid off, as he avoided the meteorites with relative ease. "See, this is the trouble with you - uff - bulletproof types," he called as he came out of a back flip to twist through the air in a spiral of sword and greatcoat. "You get so used to - ha - bouncing attacks off your cosmic abs, you forget that - wupp - us 'little guys' know how to to just not get hit." Though he made no move to acknowledge that he'd received Avenger's signal, the acrobat's theatrics brought him behind the portal as suggested.

Snarling, Jack spun on his heel just in time to bear the brunt of Burn's pyrotechnic volley. Even as the swordsman moved to shield himself with his lightly armored greatcoat, the vicious power on the fireballs sent a singed Jack flying backward to collide with the warehouse. For a moment, he lay still in the dent forced by his own body. Suddenly, his hellfire blade flared angrily, and the fencer's dilated eyes snapped open as he worked his aching jaw around with a grimace.

Well, balls. Toughness save vs. DC 27 (1d20+6=19) Fails by 8, so stunned and bruised. Toughness save vs. DC 24 (1d20+6=25) It's gonna take him a round to recover but Jack's not out of the fight just yet! Not that it makes any difference, but for the sake of argument, Jack's Defense is actually 26.

For sure.

Jack gave Colt an amused glance as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his heavy denim jacket and continued walking. "You got out of bed to play boardgames?" His expression became exaggeratedly frank. "Was is strip Monopoly? Did you use the Parker Brothers' beloved family activity for impure purposes?" The fencer raised his hands placatingly. "Hey, I'm not judging. I get it: once you get started, that game can keep on going for hours."

I'm not the only one who's mind immediately jumped to that, right?

Jack was able to keep Force pinned to the ground, but realized that if her telekinetic shield had been able to absorb the impact of their fall, he wasn't going to be able to subdue the villainess with his fists alone. His energy rapiers had proven to be effective at piercing exotic defenses in the past, but the moment he released Force to form and use one, she'd be back up in the air where he couldn't touch her. Unless... With a pained howl, the swashbuckler grasped his head and staggered off of his opponent and up to his feet. "Nrgh... no! Get... out... of my... head!" he wailed, his expression agonized. In the split second the telepath hesitated, wondering if her mental blast had been more successful that she'd though, Jack's right hand shot to his side, his energy manipulating powers casting out. He'd meant to pull a piece of Force's own power away to use against her, but in his hast he instinctively latched onto the most plentiful and familiar source available: the fire generated by Burn. The flames leaped into his palm, simultaneously solidifying into a long, thin sword and flaring into a deep blue hue as the fencer's pupils dilated and a cold smirk spread across his face. "No, really. It's getting a little crowded in here," he grated in a gravelly tone as he leaped forward, hellfire blade thrusting toward his target.

Well alrighty then. Jack'll start off with a DC 31 Trick to get Force to lower her force field (I see what you did there), then follow it up with a move action DC 26 Feint. He'll surge to make a Power Attack 5 (1d20+10=13)... er, yeah, make that a Power Attack 5 reroll (1d20.minroll(11)+10=27). *sigh* Almost a crit, but such is life. That's Toughness DC 27 plus Autofire 1, if applicable, and five points of Penetrating in case the Trick fails. Jack's all outta HPs, plus he has to release her from the grapple to use his sword. Gotta make this shot count!

*crickets chirping* Hello? Anybody home?

Jack rolled his eyes as the pair stepped out into the street and began walking. "Ugh, don't get me started. Everybody plays with the 'land on Free Parking, get the money' rule, amirite? But my sister was always, 'that's not in the real rules, you can't just make stuff up!'" The swordsman snorted. "Didn't say anything when she landed there, of course." A thought occurred to him and he regarded Colt with a raised eyebrow. "Wait, how do you even know what Monopoly is?"

Jack offered the other heroes a toothy smirk. "So the rest of the Power Snore get locked up and we steal the MacGuffin instead?" He glanced down to the mercenary at his feet. "That's irony, chum. Smile, it's funny." Twirling his electrical rapier with a flick of his wrist, the swashbuckler nodded to the pocket in which Ace had secreted the box away. "We could just destroy it." Noting his compatriots' reactions, he shrugged. "What? I'm not a historian. Why risk it?"

"Of course," Jack groused to himself as the mercenary's garbled reply echoed through the suit's speakers. Narrowing his eyes, the swordsman found the trickle of electricity still arcing bout the power armor and pulled at it, a jolt leaping from one of the servos in its right arm to his hand, where it immediately grew into a coursing rapier of energy. "Hold still," he advised his fallen opponent before bringing the pommel of his faintly buzzing construct down atop the suit's faceplate with distinct nonchalance. The already cracked helmet gave way, allowing Jack to remove a large piece of the curved material, revealing the better part of Number Eight's face. "Wanna try that again?"

Following the cowboy's example, Jack left the appropriate bills next to his empty glass over Trisha's protests, adding a suitably large tip and a napkin with a hastily scrawled phone number to the pile. Retrieving his coat from the rack by the door, he turned to Colt. "Morley's?" Though a low key and intimate establishment by the standards of Freedom at large, the long established bar was popular enough to attract patrons from throughout the city, and was thus generally avoided by West End natives on general principle. Still, the fencer had to admit that the pub had an excellent reputation for music, and if the goal was to overcome his recent standoffish inclinations, the social drinkery was a sound choice. "Yeah, sure. Let's make like Monopoly."