Gizmo

Jack of all Blades gave Ace a sidelong glance. "Evil mirror universe? Tell me he's got a goatee." When the gentleman adventurer suggested using Phantom as bait, the swashbuckler blinked and prepared to object. Before he could, the mystic agreed to the plan without hesitation. "Woah, seriously?" the fencer asked. "I mean, not to belabour the point, but you're kinda... that's is, uh..." Jack sighed. "You're totes preggers, lady. Isn't there a list somewhere that's like, 'drinking, smoking, acting as bait for cosmic horrors'? 'Things Not To Do'?" Despite the gravity of the situation, he took a moment to privately congratulate himself. Heh, 'belabour'. Though I guess making puns at a time like this is a bit 'childish'. Woo, on a roll.

Unarmed attack. (1d20+11=31) That's DC 17+5=22! Toughness save. (1d20+3=23) What.

Paul frowned at Bill. "Hey, buddy, that's assault!" Still sitting, Eric shook his head. "Unintentional irony aside, that's just Bill being nice. He's southern, believes in giving folks fair warning." Suddenly the acrobat was in motion, spinning out of his chair to stand and delivering a snap kick in one fluid motion. The foot caught the quarterback squarely in the chest, and forced him to release his hold on Tricia, who immediately retreated to put the Interceptors between Paul and herself. "That's how we handle creeps in the West End." Eric was shocked to realize, however, that the bow had barely fazed the football player, who rubbed his chest with one hand and made a fist with the other. "You just made a big mistake, freak!" The rest of the Firebirds began to get up from their chairs.

Between the dark and his mask it was hard to tell, but Jack's expression softened slightly. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I wanted to explain things to you myself; Star's good people, but he's not overflowing in the tact department." Supporting himself on his hands, the swordsman swung his legs out the sit on the edge of the brick outcropping. "Bottom line, you're dangerous to be around. Sucks, and I'm guessing it's not even your fault, but there it is. You're helping with my tan right now. Just walking around town, it's probably not a serious problem, but when you went all out..." He shook his head. "If Star hadn't had a force field up, somebody could have died. Make matters worse, it's Terminus radiation, which, trust the guy with the wacky sixth sense, is the freakiest of freaky energies." Jack crossed his arms with finality. "You mentioned coming to the West End to work out. Well, not any more, you don't. This isn't just my protectorate, it's my home, and I'm not having my people get bloody cancer because you decided to put a little too much on the free weights." He assumed that Fulcrum wouldn't be out doing what she did if she didn't care about people; he hoped he could make her understand that his convictions were no less powerful.

With a flip, Jack launched himself out of the shadows to crouch gargoyle-like atop the doorway down to the theater, putting him at eye level with the statuesque heroine. "So. You showed." The swordsman's voice was flat, betraying no emotion. Tilting his head to the side he concentrated on her aura. "And you're probably only giving me long term radiation poisoning right now, not immediate, debilitating mutations, so there's that." Jack paused, regarding Fulcrum neutrally. "Dark Star told you, then."

"Hello!" Jack of all Blades waved as Ace introduced him. He blinked when Phantom revealed her own identity. "Oh! Grim's friend! Thanks for the consult on the, uh, y'know, 'fwoosh' thing." The swashbuckler vaguely mimed the ignition of a hellfire sword. He listened intently as the others outlined the situation in more detail. "Right, so. No pressure. Listen, I get that Star's like, a pal of yours or whatever," the fencer continued awkwardly, "but is there any real reason not to think that we're just dealing with Dar Star Classic, and he's taken a few too many comets to the cranium? I mean, cosmic stuff does my head in and his head is made of cosmic stuff."

Jack and Fulcrum hash it out after the Fisticuffs Fundraiser!

Nestled at the end of a rundown strip mall, between a burger shop and a loan office, the Jade Dragon Theater had long been a staple of entertainment in the West End. Plaster statues and peeling gold paint adorned the only place in Freedom where a person could catch five or more classic kung-fu flicks back to back on a Friday night, and the only place maybe anywhere that popcorn was sold at cost. Hidden in the shadows of the exit to the theater's roof, Jack of all Blades waited impatiently. A shower had done little to improve his mood after the last unfortunate minutes of the charity boxing event. He rolled his lighter around in his hand. Given the... complications his powers had developed since the demon invasion, he knew he shouldn't use it. Just as certainly, he knew he wanted to.

Jack Initiative. (1d20+9=20) FCC Firebirds Initiative. (1d20=5)

Tricia gave Billy a wry smirk. "Welcome to the glamourous world of waitressing. They're obnoxious, but harmless." "I gotta go with Bill on this one," Eric replied, turning his head to catch the belligerent jocks in his peripheral vision. " There's definitely a line to be drawn with this kind of thing..." As the fencer spoke, Paul the quarterback staggered to his feet and walked across the room to the Interceptors' table. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he said roughly, placing a meaty hand on the waitress's shoulder. Eric's eyes narrowed to slits as he exchanged a look with Billy. "... and laughing boy here just crossed it."

"Holy nertz!" Jack of all Blades choked out as a hand on his shoulder pulled him out of the world before dropping him back into it somewhere else entirely. Looking around he found himself in a library, the entire room bristling with a variety of mystical energies. They were easily over shadowed by those of the woman who had brought him there along with Ace, however. The plainly dressed pregnant woman flickered disconcertingly in and out of sight; the swashbuckler realized it was more than just visual concealment, as her energies ebbed and flowed with her. Had he not been looking right at her, Jack would have sworn she was traveling back and forth across vast distances. He cleared his throat and straightened his greatcoat as he looked around. "Right, teleportation, duh. 'Cause, y'know, that's a thing I totally do all the time. I've got a little card, gets me 'port miles whenever I buy stuff." He saw the grim expressions of the other heroes and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. Nervous joker. I'll just, yeah, I'll make with the quiet now." As he shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat, a pale man with an aristocratic air entered, nodding briefly to the new arrivals. What Jack of all Blades noticed first, however, was that the the dark haired man wasn't really there. Blinking, the energy manipulator realized that, more accurately, he was visible to his energy awareness; he simply wasn't giving off any of the sensations Jack associated with human beings. No warm hum of body heat, no prickling of electrical impulses coursing through the nervous system. The fencer couldn't say just what their host was, but it certainly wasn't normal.

Energy, right, okay," Jack of all Blades said, composing himself. "Man, it's always energy. Is there like a specific type, or...?" As he asked the question they arrived at Danger Manor and Ace's manner made it clear he had no time for chit chat. "Uh, hi." Jack greeted the servant. "How you doing?" He rubbed the back of his neck while the immortal gentleman conversed on the phone. The swordsman raised an eyebrow. "Pick up? If we're in such a hurry wouldn't it have been faster to just drive straight to wherever we're headed?"

There's a bit of a meme over on deviantArt where artists draw themselves as members of one of the Corps. You can see a much of them here. I'm not much of a drawer, but I have been getting pretty good at making custom action figures, so I took a slightly different approach.

The swordman's jaw hung open. He snapped it shut audibly. "Dark Star? Evil Dark Star. Cosmic guy, made of pure stellar energy, lousy sense of humour? But evil. This is what we're talking about. Seriously. Well... balls." Jack of all Blades rubbed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly. "Do you realize how bad that is? No, stupid question, of course you do, but I mean really realize? You remember at that boxing thing when Fulcrum went all Chernobyl and made me loose my lunch? Star's like that, only actually in control of all that power. He's like..." At a loss for words, the swashbuckler let out a loud breath and gesture emphatically with his hands. "Evil Dark Star. Dios. And he's already hurt someone?"

To his credit, Eric didn't wait for further explanation. Pausing only to explain to his mother that an emergency had come up back at the brownstone apartments, he was soon swinging gracefully out one of the home's second storey window and landing lightly in the yard. Doing his best to remain unseen, the swordsman hastily made his way to Ace's car. Getting into the Aston Martin, he turned to the immortal adventurer. "Alright, so if it was worth coming to get me, it's either a fencing thing or an energy thing, right? I'm guessing it's probably the second one, so what's the deal?"

"Aw, Bill just thinks that 'cause he's so modest," Eric insisted. "This guy could be a superhero and he wouldn't make a big deal about it. Strikes me, there's nothing wrong with having a conversation, especially with such pleasant company." As Tricia covered a small smile with her hand, a voice rang out from towards the back of the bar. "Hey, Trish, how 'bout some service, huh?" The speaker was a broad-shouldered youth wearing a Freedom City College letterman jacket, sitting at one of several tables which had been dragged together to accommodate nearly a dozen similarly clad young men. The waitress made a bit of a face before calling back. "Be there in a second, Paul." She turned back to Billy and Eric and rolled her eyes. "You go out with the quarterback once..." "Uh, how 'bout now? the jock called back belligerently, eliciting a chorus of snickers from his teammates. "We're the FCC Firebirds!" His teammates began an impromptu chant. "Ef cee cee! Ef cee cee!" "Starting lineup, bay-bee!" the player next to Paul exclaimed loudly, high-fiving the quarterback. "You know it! We got the Atom Bowl this weekend and we are gonna rock the his-ouse!" Hoots and hollers of agreement came from the rest of the lineup. "Y'know, your not supposed to get busy the night before a big game, but it's not for a couple days. You see what I'm saying, Trishie?" Paul smirked while his teammates whistled and made catcalls, much to the waitress' obvious annoyance.

"I got it!" came a muffled shout from inside. A moment later the door opened to reveal a pretty teenaged girl with a shoulder length ponytail of dusty brown hair. She stopped suddenly as she saw their visitor. "You're--! Wow. Uh, just a sec." Ellie Espadas ducked her head back inside and shouted. "Eric! Get your culo out here!" The girl turned back to Ace, placing a hand on her hip. "My brother has got such the man-crush on you." "What? Who are you talking t- Ace?!" As the elder Espadas sibling rounded the corner, Ace had to give the swordsman credit. Without his bandanna mask and wig, Eric Espadas didn't look much like Jack of all Blades. It had taken more than a little investigative work of the immortal's part to track down the swashbuckler's civilian identity. After a moment of shock, Eric's expression hardened. "Ellie, get inside." His sister snorted. "What, you do. You've got practically all of his books and movies. You're like one poster over the bed short of scrawling 'Mrs. Eric Danger' all over your notebooks." "Ellie..." She turned back to Ace, ignoring her brother. "Is it true you're... yknow." She raised a single eyebrow suggestively. "Ellie! Inside! Now!" Eric hissed. Seeing the expression on his face, Ellie raised her hands in surrender and stepped back inside without a word. Her sibling gave Ace a dark look. "This had better be damn good, man. Not cool, showing up here."

"Texas? Ohmigawd, I was just in Austin last year for South by Southwest!" The waitress stifled a gasp. "Are you, like, a musician?" Before Colt could reply, is teammate interjected. "Actually, Bill just moved here to be in our band. You know what they say, if you can make in Freedom, you can make it anywhere, right?" The swashbuckler gave her a grin full of perfect teeth. "I'm Eric. And you are?" Her eyes widened as she turned to Eric. "Really? That so exciting! I'm Tricia." She looked back to Colt. "What's your band called?" Behind her back, Eric gave Billy a shrug.

Woe, a high Charisma score can't compete with an accent.

"It's actually a microbrew from a local brewery," the waitress said, brushing her hair behind her ear as she turned back around. Totally ignoring Eric, she held her empty tray across he lap and beamed at Billy. "Are you, like, from the south? I love your accent!" From across the table the fencer gave the cowboy a dry, unimpressed look. Thanks a lot, man. Smooth.

Of course it is. I'll edit my post to reflect that. In the mean time, how would a leaping tackle work? With an Acrobatics check and extra effort, Jack should be able to get to where Force is flying; how's it work if he wants to tackle her midair? Is that move action jump, standard action grapple?

Jack doubled over for a moment, taken off guard by Force's mental assault, then willed himself back upright, squaring his shoulders and shaking off the effect. The swashbuckler cracked his neck loudly and smirked. "Well, I hear it's through his stomach, but you don't really strike me as the home ec type. Not much use in a fight either; good thing you're pretty, huh?" A commotion on the ground caught his attention for a moment, and he looked down to see what appeared to be a man clad in a straight jacket which, Jack's metahuman senses assured him, was constructed entirely of the trilling sound made by strumming a finger back and forth over pursed lips. The strange man was evidently channeling the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot with explosive results. The swordsman blinked, then took a step back from the edge of the rooftop, very consciously refocusing on Force and refusing to comment of the scene even to himself.

Oh, sure, if that works better for you. I'll change it to January.

"Dude, relax. Nobody's paying any attention to us, that's why I chose this place. If someone asks, you're from Houston, alright?" The drinks were brought over by an attractive waitress with short black hair and matching lipstick. Jack gave her a winning smile as she dropped off the glasses, then turned back to Colt. "Okay, so it was a reason. As for a name, uh..." The swordsman rubbed the back of his closely shorn hair and shrugged. "I dunno, something random, I guess. How about... Eric? Whatever, bro."

Oh yeah! Will save vs. DC 24 (1d20+10=27) "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" What exactly happens here? Does Force's astral projection get ejected from Jack's body, or what?