Gizmo

Okay, so, here's the deal. Jack's coming up on Gold, and after monkeying around with a bunch of character concepts I got one together that I really like. He's a Claremont student and a legacy character! Yay! Midnight II, the grandson of the original Liberty League member. Except I found out afterward that ex3lev3n already had his own version of Midnight II, and not surprisingly, the back stories clash a little bit. The existing version was only around long enough to earn a single, solitary pp, however, and was almost immediately NPC'd, while ex3lev3n himself hasn't been heard from in a couple of months. Now, I'm a man who generally loves him some continuity, but I'm wondering if this is a situation where I can Superboy-punch the other version into a corner and ignore it. Alternately, I could try to work around it, but it would really hobble some of the key points in my guy's history. I guess I'm looking for a yay or nay from you lovely staff-type-persons. Obviously you need to get a look at the character I'm proposing, so here's the first draft: Players Name: Gizmo Power Level: 10 Trade-Offs: +4 Attack, -4 Damage, +2 Defence, -2 Toughness Unspent PP: 0 Characters Name: Midnight II Alternate Identity: Trevor Hunter Age: 17 Gender: Male Height: 5’10†Weight: 135 lbs Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Description: Trevor Hunter is a tall teenager with dark, well-kempt hair and a relaxed demeanour. Dressing largely in subdued browns and blacks, he eschews logos and accessories, preferring plain long-sleeved shirts and jackets with a generally uncluttered appearance. His one concession is a battered black fedora which he wears whenever convenience allows. As the second Midnight, he wears a costume only slightly altered from the one used by his grandfather, starting with a lightly armoured jump-suit. Trevor has shortened the jacket to make it more practical for riding the Night Cycle, and added a utility belt containing an array of gadgets. His featureless mask and fedora are in fact the very same ones used by Travis Hunter, although the mask’s functional elements had to be replaced. The entire costume is pitch black save for glowing red eyes. History: Shortly after the Liberty League disbanded in the late 1950s, the mysterious vigilante known as Midnight disappeared, never to be seen again. Remaining active but underground for several years, chemist Travis Hunter eventually settled down and raised a family. Though the occasional crisis would bring him out of retirement, it was never for long and always without public knowledge. The years of exposure to his ‘midnight mist’ had left a greater mark of Hunter than he realised, however. With his son forced to move often due to his job, Hunter’s grandson Trevor came to live with the now elderly, though still remarkably vigourous, chemist in his sizeable estate. This turned out to be fortuitous, for when Trevor’s metahuman abilities manifested at puberty, his grandfather instantly recognised the familiar light blocking gas he produced. Calming the confused youth, Hunter revealed to him the long abandoned ‘Midnight Manor’ hidden below their home and explained his history as a masked crime fighter. The moment the old, flickering lights illuminated the glass case containing the Midnight costume, Trevor’s fate was sealed. He knew his destiny was to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and, seeing the boy’s determination, Hunter had to agree. Trevor’s training began immediately, with the condition that he was not to venture out into the city until he earned his license and refurbished one of the Manor’s decrepit vehicles to drive himself there. To Hunter’s chagrin the mechanically inclined Trevor not only met both conditions with surprising ease, but insisted on claiming the Night Cycle as his transportation of choice. The new Midnight’s first forays into the world of super heroism caught the attention of Duncan Summers, who recognised the modus operandi of the hero who was in many ways the spiritual predecessor of the Raven. Sending his daughter out to make contact with the teen, Summers invited Trevor to enrol at Claremont Academy. With his grandfather’s blessing he accepted, eager to give a new generation of villains a very good reason to be afraid of the dark. Personality & Motivation: Trevor is outwardly reserved without being cold. He’ll smile slightly rather than laugh, and he’ll narrow his eyes rather than shout belligerently. What sense of humour he does display is bone dry, often leaving those he interacts with uncertain if he made a joke or not. Slow to anger, he has little interest in social drama and is unfailing genuine in his sentiments. Content to let others have the spotlight, when he does speak his words carry a weight that belies his years. Fighting crime is a point of family pride for Trevor, one he takes very seriously. The exploitation of the innocent is one of the few things sure to draw a reaction from the typically demure teen, and he takes a good deal of satisfaction from utilising fear against the villains who make it their stock and trade. Powers & Tactics: Trevor is able to produce clouds of “midnight mistâ€, the gas invented by his grandfather, at will. The mist blocks out light, plunging those caught in its wake into darkness. Using his specially designed goggles, Trevor takes advantage of the cover to terrify his foes and strike undetected, leaving no trace of himself but unconscious criminals. A secondary power clouds his presence from telepathy and other mental senses, making him a shadowy figure even on the mental plane. Supplementing these powers are an array of compact gadgets secreted about the pockets of his coat and belt. Complications: Camera Shy (Trevor prefers to remain unseen by the public; the shadows are where he does his best work.) Don’t Touch the Hat (Don’t. Touch. The Hat.) Honest (Trevor’s a lousy liar, to the point of bluntness) Frightening (The Midnight costume is great for scaring bad guys, not so great for reassuring civilians, especially kids.) Legacy (Living up to his inherited code name means the world to Trevor.) Abilities: 30pp Str: 14 (+2) Dex: 16 (+3) Con: 14 (+2) Int: 14 (+2) Wis: 14 (+2) Cha: 18 (+4) Combat: 36pp Attack: +10 (+14 melee) Grapple: +16 Defence: +12 (+4 flat-footed) Knockback: -4 (-2 flat-footed) Initiative: +3 Saves: 12pp Toughness: +8 (+2 Con, +4 Defensive Roll, +2 Midnight Costume) Fortitude: +4 (+2 Con, +2) Reflex: +5 (+3 Dex, +2) Will: +10 (+2 Wis, +8) Skills: 80r = 20pp Acrobatics 7 (+10) Craft (mechanical) 13 (+15) Disguise 1 (+5) Drive 12 (+15) Gather Information 1 (+5) Intimidate 15 (+19) Knowledge (streetwise) 3 (+5) Knowledge (technology) 3 (+5) Notice 8 (+10) Slight of Hand 2 (+5) Stealth 15 (+18) Feats: 29pp Attack Focus 4 (melee) Benefit 2 (Wealthy) Blind Fight Defensive Roll 4 Distract (Intimidate) Dodge Focus 4 Equipment 3 Evasion 2 Hide in Plain Sight Power Attack Second Chance (Intimidate) Skill Mastery (Acrobatics, Drive, Intimidate, Stealth) Sneak Attack 3 Startle Powers: 23pp Obscure 3 [midnight mist; visual, 25’ radius, Extra: Continuous, Flaw: Fades, Drawback: Cannot reposition, countered by air and wind powers] [5pp] Concealment 2 [all mental, Power Feat: Close Range, Flaws: Partial, Phantasm] [2pp] Device 1 [Midnight mask; hard to loose] [4pp] Gadgets 2 [utility coat and belt; 10 points, easy to loose] [12pp] DC Block: Unarmed -- DC 17/Toughness -- Bruised Sneak Attack -- DC 21/Toughness -- Bruised Costs: Abilities 30 + Combat 36 + Saves 12 + Skills 20 + Feats 29 + Powers 23 = Total Cost 150

"Creepy voice...?" Jack asked raising an eyebrow. His confusion was cut short by Grim's next statement. "Whoa-ho, hey now, who says I'm not doing, y'know, just fine for myself, huh? I mean, I... guess I did, but... uh... shut up." The swashbuckler cleared his throat and adjusted the waist of his bodysuit. "Well, if this friend of yours is good police, that sounds like a good place to start," he allowed, changing the subject. "Dunno how much training in crazy evil fire sword things they get downtown these days, but I guess everybody's gotta have a hobby." He let out a long sigh when Colt suggested getting a drink. "Dios yes."

Sure. I think what I want to do is eventually have Jack take on the big demon again... in his mind. Winning gives him control over the hellfire. I'll have to get the stats from Cyroa, but you could have Colby do some research and suggest that sort of thing.

"You know I heard that," Jack agreed, pointing back at Colt when the cowboy posited that the pair of them were just too pretty to be damaged. Smirking, he turned back to fight just in time for a massive wave of kinetic energy to temporarily white-out his energy sense. "Dios...! That's just... that's... wow." he finished lamely. His mind positively boggled at the amount of force Atlas had just unleashed, but it wasn't until he realized that Fulcrum was still standing that his jaw dropped. The verbose rogue found himself sputtering, for once at a loss for words.

A figure appeared on the roof of the warehouse just above the gaping hole, greatcoat flapping behind him and crackling electrical rapier held loosely at his side. "You heard the hipster, kids. You're already outnumbered in collective IQ points; how about coming along quietly?" called Jack of all Blades from his perch above the scene. He'd been the closest Interceptor to the robbery when Vince had gotten word; a quick change and some rooftop acrobatics later and he was ready to show the superpowered thieves how they did things in the West End. The swashbuckler quickly scanned the opposing forces. Vince's intel said they were called the Power Pack, but there hadn't been time for much beyond that. The big guy and the fast guy wouldn't be an issue; they'd have to close to fight him and he was confident he could easily deal with them in melee combat. The other two members of the Pack were harder to pin down; probably ranged fighters, he decided, which meant they were the higher priority. His eyes fixed on the comelier of the two with a twinkle. "Well, hey there," he grinned in Force's direction. "How you doin'?"

So... 40 - Dash 20 - Breakdown 17 - Strong Man 16 - Mongrel Angel 15 - Jack of all Blades 12 - Burn 6 - Thad Minker 2 - Force ...yeah? (Yes, I realize that all of that is listed above, but you just know sooner or later you're going to have to check and it'll be nice to have it in one place.)

Jack silently stared unblinkingly into the deep blue flames, giving little indication of hearing what Grim was saying. When she produced the card, he finally tilted his head to the side to look directly at her for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the paper rectangle in her hand. As he did, he lowered the arm holding the eerie blade, and the fire at it's tip inadvertently licked across the card. The swordsman blinked rapidly as it caught alight. "Gah!" he exclaimed, releasing the blade into nothingness as he swatted the burning paper out of the shapeshifter's hand. It was consumed before it hit the floor. Jack followed its path with his eyes before clearing his throat and looking back up, his expression chagrined. "Jeez, sorry, I... ngh. That, uh, that wasn't the real card, right?"

Aren't we still waiting on people?

Jack listened impassively as Colt and Grim expounded on the varied relationships between luck and winning and death. To the swordsman's mind, keeping everyone who deserved it safe was the one and only win condition; anything less was at the very least a slightly mitigated failure. Intellectually he knew that he couldn't save everyone, especially against such overwhelming odds, but he refused to accept it. The moment he started compromising with himself, started putting reasonable expectations on his limits, was the moment he'd no longer be able to face those overwhelming odds face on. Regardless, he wasn't in the mood to launch into a lengthy philosophical debate over the matter, especially with his teammates so ardently attempting to cheer him up. At least Nadia knew how to resolve an issue quickly and cleanly. That's my kind of 'conflict resolution'. When they turned their attention to his assertion that he'd 'come back wrong', he would have been relieved, if the new topic of discussion weren't just as uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. "Right, well, probably easiest to just show you." Reaching into the pocket of pants, he withdrew the lighter he carried with him at all times. Before the invasion, creating swords out of flame had been one of his preferred tactics, as much out of fond familiarity as ease of implementation. Since then, however, the other Interceptors had noticed him going out of his way to avoid that particular energy source. Presently Jack rolled the lighter around in his left hand contemplatively before letting out a long, apprehensive breath and flicking it open. Gesturing with his right hand, he drew a line of fire from the resulting flicker, pulling it into him palm and fanning it into a rapier-length blade. For a moment nothing seemed amiss. Suddenly the sword flared violently, dark blue flames erupting from Jack's hand to consume the more mundane fires. The blade expanded into a broad, jagged shape; no longer a tool of precision but of wanton destruction. It was hard to tell in the deep blue light, which almost seemed to make the hallway darker rather than brighter, but it almost looked like Jack's eyes dilated slightly as an involuntary shudder ran up his arm. When he spoke, his voice held an uncharacteristic gravelly quality. "Happens any time I try to use fire. Hurts a little bit. Feels good, too." His expression flickered as he made a conscious effort to control himself. "It's wrong. Seen strange energy, destructive, deadly, but this... Fire wants to burn. This stuff... wants to hurt." Colt and Grim couldn't help but notice that, having successfully demonstrated the problem, Jack showed no sign of wanting to extinguish the sword.

Jack's Initiative: 1d20+9=15 Yuck. Well, could be worse. Oh, and Jack calls Force. Yes, solely because she's a lady. Doesn't even matter what her powers are, that's just how he rolls.

Hurr hurr, point taken. Edit: Admit it, "Billynn" was kinda inspired.

Jack has 6pp to spend. The first 1 is going to go toward a second rank of Equipment, with all 5ep being added to his "Shared Equipment" contribution, bringing it up to 9ep total. The other 5 I'm going to put into his Strike, giving it the Autofire extra to represent a flurry of blows, making it: [b]Strike 5[/b] [energy sword; [i]Extras:[/i] Autofire 1, Penetrating, [i]Power Feats:[/i] Improved Critical (19-20), Mighty, Variable Descriptor 2 (any energy type), [i]Drawback:[/i] Limited to available, concentrated energy types)] [18pp] Done By Angrydurf

I guess it depends of what sort of thread you want it to be to introduce Jester, Geez. If you don't want there to be heavy combat, you could just have a lot of thugs, or there could be a legitimate threat for him to prove himself against.

As soon as Colt placed Jack down on the couch, the acrobat was back on his feet, hands held out to ward off any advance. "Whoa, ha, yeah, no." The swordsman moved to lean against the wall across form the others. "Look guys, you're happy and that's fantastic, truly and honestly, but you're in that stage where you finish each others' sentences and smile knowingly a lot and think you can solve everyone's problems and want to go on double couple dates and are freaking creepy as hell, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair and winced uncomfortably. "Living with you, even in this big place, is like the textbook definition of 'third wheel'. You two do what you gotta do, more power to you, but I need some time away from the merged Grolt entity sometimes. Colrim? Billynn. There we go. Anyway." The swordsman sighed and looked upward. "Okay, granted, I may be a little extra sensitive about this because, y'know, the secret identity renders my social life nonexistent, but such is the world, moving on." He smirked in spite of himself. "And, yes, I'm pretty generally terrific; you don't have to patronize me." The smile left his lips as his expression clouded over. "It's not even about, uh, dying, really. I mean, how do you even begin to conceptualize your own death in the past tense? It pretty much just feels like I got hurt real bad, then I got better. Ta dah." He made halfhearted jazz hands indicating himself from head to toe."It's all pretty fuzzy, but... we- I wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough. We didn't win, and the city burned. We got so, so lucky when everything went back to the way it was, and that's unacceptable. We can't rely on that." Jack rubbed his face with his hands. "That's not even really it, though," he admitted. "I've gotten my butt handed to me before. Never with those kinds of consequences but... You lose, you learn from it and you get better so you never lose the same way again. Hence the Bruce Banner school of anger management," he explained tipping his head toward the Wreck Room. "I've always had an edge against chumps and thugs; I need to get that edge against the all the other stuff out there." He paused again as though framing his thoughts, staring at the palm of his right hand. "Bottom line, I was gone, then I came back. But..." Jack suddenly jerked his hand violently like he was flinging something from its surface. As he jammed it into his pocket, he grimaced, suggesting that the movement had been involuntary. "I think I came back wrong.

That would be Interceptors: Exorcism, quote.

Jack of all Blades Fisticuffs Fundraiser! Geiger Gal [JoaB/Fulcrum] Interceptors: Intervention Interceptors: Liquid Therapy The Good, The Bad, and The Extra Dimensional Surely You Jest One of These is Not Like the Other S.H.A.D.O.W. over Freedom Life's Bazaar Three of a Kind

Jack spun on his heel and grabbed the racquetball out of the air just in time for the magical construct to evaporate between his fingers. "Whoa-ho, check you out with the mad detective skills! A guy gets his insides pulped and you figure he's maybe upset about it? Somebody get this girl a deerstalker and pipe!" When Colt followed him out of the Wreck Room to stand behind his girlfriend, Jack crossed his arms and snorted. "Fantastic, another performance of 'The Thing With Two Heads'. Honestly, I surprised the pair of you noticed anything the past few weeks, what with getting welded together at the hip and all." The swordsman pointed emphatically upward in the direction of the brownstone. "Those walls are not that thick!" He was about to launch into another stream of biting retorts when Colt said four words. Jack's venomous rejoinder died in his throat. He started to speak, then stopped. He raised a finger to point angrily at the cowboy, then let it fall. He stood there for a moment longer, quivering with suddenly stunted anger, then all at once the rage and energy seemed to drain out of him, leaving a much diminished man standing in the hallway, shoulders slumped and expression agonized. Drawing a hand across his face, Jack swore softy. "Dammit, Colt," he said without looking up, mouth quirking into a sad smirk. "Right in the sense of responsibility, huh?"

Jack stalked forward, getting right up in Colt's face, his mouth etched in a tight line and the bar of lightning still arcing in his hand. "Gee, Sheriff Billy," he said with mock sweetness, "You gonna teach me about gun safety next?" He brushed past the cowboy without waiting for a reply, letting the electrical blade fade as he did. "It's training. If you help is pretty much defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" The swordsman whirled around just before reaching Grim in the doorway, his flaring coat coming within a fraction of an inch of the shapeshifter's face as he spread his arms wide. "Speaking of which, what 'team'? Why do you think everyone left, Colt? Wake up and smell the inadequacy! We couldn't cut it! We need to get better, and at least one of us should be trying, don't you think?" Spinning back around, Jack paused for a moment to tower over Grim, standing the better part of a foot over her in her natural form. "You know what, you're right, Lynn. I should be more careful. I really could have been killed." Snapping the fingers of one hand as though in sudden realization, he pulled his wig and mask off with the other and tossed them to the ground, revealing the shorn dusty brown hair beneath it. "Oh, wait! I already did die! Been there, done that, and do y'know, I didn't even get the novelty t-shirt?" His exaggerated sincerity gave way to a barely restrained snarl as he pushed around her and started down the hallway. "I do not need this right now."

Electricity flashed in Jack of all Blades' eyes to match the pillar of bottled lightning clenched in his palm. The swordsman hadn't even bothered to shape the captured energy into his customary refined rapier; instead it was an ill-defined thing of raw power that performed a brutal dance, ripping apart machinery and shorting out electronics as Jack leaped around the Wreck Room's many obstacles. Diving under a gout of flame the poured suddenly from the wall, he turned his momentum into a slide that brought him smoothly to a robotic claw extending from the floor just in time to mange to machinery beyond recognition with an angry thrust. A dozen spinning disks, honed to a razor's edge, spat forth from opposite sides of the room. Jack cut one volley to pieces with a crackling swipe and swept his greatcoat around to bat the rest to one side. More dangers appeared, and the fencer dealt with them with similar grim determination. He had already been in the combat simulator for well over half an hour, and showed no signs of stopping. Mind seething, he was oblivious to anything but the next parry... until the machinery around him suddenly shut down and the room was plunged into darkness. Jack whirled around with a snarl as the doors leading to the rest of the Underground were pried open and his teammates appeared in the opening. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Sure, let's just make it someone sufficiently dangerous to justify so many heroes showing up.

All squished into those little cars...

Hey, I didn't say I wanted to meet him!

Jack's the type to take a cynical eye toward supposedly reformed villains, but he could relate to the whole 'manic energy and constant jokes' thing. I've been meaning for him to meet Breakdown at some point anyway.

Man, even with trade-off feats, that'd be one looooong fight. Feinting is kinda Jack's bread and butter, but it'd be pointless against Atlas. I guess Taunting and Distracting would be worth something, but I think the best solution would be a good Trick check in a construction site!

Man, I wish I could say the same about Jack. Let's see, he needs some Luck and probably Leadership, Autofire on his Strike to get enough points into it to start getting some decent Alternate Powers, I'd like to set him up with Well Informed eventually to take better advantage of his his Charisma and he really needs a grappling hook at some point. Oh, and I'll have to meet PL caps next month if all goes well. Hurr... gotta figure out what to prioritize.