Gizmo

The West End, the prior evening... Jack of all Blades used his foot to roll the unconscious burglar over on to his back, making sure the man hadn't received any serious cuts while flying out through the window he himself had broken to gain entry to the small electronics store. The swashbuckler shook his head and used the electricity sparking from a damaged DVD player to form a crackling blade of energy. As a few quick flicks of the wrist cut the hero's calling card into the criminal's shirt, Jack was startled by slow applause coming from behind him. Rounding in an instant, sword at the ready, he was chagrined to find it was only a television set in the store's window, displaying what looked like a gregarious talk show host. "Well, that's a little embarrassing," Jack muttered to himself, standing up straight. "On the contrary, Jack, that was one heckuva performance!" the man of the screen proclaimed enthusiastically. The swordsman blinked. After a long pause, he gravely intoned, "Alright, level with me. Is this some sorta power-fueled dementia? 'Cause the whole 'energy sense' thing always made be a little nervous, getting in my head and all." The host laughed heartily. "I tell ya, Jack, you're a real card! Hey oh!" He pointed to someone off screen and a rim shot sounded. "But seriously, you're not crazy." Placing a hand beside his mouth, he continued in a stage whisper, "At least not crazier than other guy running around in a mask and tights, am I right?" The host guffawed along with a laugh track. Jack looked down at his pants briefly. "They're not actually-- No, you know what? Forget it. What's your deal, pal?" The man of the screen tapped his finger to his nose then pointed to Jack. "See? Right there. You're quick. I am your pal, and I do have a deal for you!" The host picked up an envelope from his desk and held it to his forehead. "To protect the West End, to meet other super guys and gals and to put his little sis through med school!" He opened the envelope and read the piece of paper inside. "'Things Jack of all Blades wants to do!'" Canned applause came from the hypothetical audience, and the host gave a small bow. Jack took a step towards the television set. "What do you know about my sister?" he asked in a humourless tone, his jaw set dangerously. The host raised his hands. "Easy killer! All will be revealed! Just head to the address below tomorrow and get ready for the offer of a lifetime!" As a street address scrolled across the bottom of the screen, the host pointed off screen again, and a guitar and saxophone lick flared from the television. "Good night, folks!" the host cried, tossing his cue cards over his shoulder. With that, the screen shut itself off, leaving a bewildered Jack standing over a groaning burglar. The swashbuckler even stop staring at the television as he gave the thief a swift kick back into unconsciousness. 83rd Avenue, brownstone apartments... As Jack slid down the drain pipe of the building across the street from the one the address had specified, he spotted a dark haired woman approaching the apartment. With surprise he realized he recognized her from the Leon Mighty's training session in Wharton State Forest. Removing his lighter from his pocket, he rolled it in his palm, but held off on summoning a sword of fire. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat, he followed her across the street to the front door.

Argh, alright, apparently flickr pulled a fast one on me and changed the url to: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3477/401 ... 94bf_o.jpg Sorry about that. Last time, honest. Reshuffled by Doc

Jack grinned. "Leon, buddy, if it punches through bricks like a monk and meditates under waterfalls like a monk, then-- jeez!" The swordsman dropped his foil to the ground and gripped the side of his head. Out in the middle of the forest, away from the 'white noise' of power lines and crowded streets, his energy sense was much clearer. As such, it came as all the more of a shock when his brain started freaking out in two directions at once. To the west he sensed something that turned his stomach; something that was so close to a regular person that the vague 'wrongness' was all the more discomforting. In the opposite direction was veritable pillar of energy, concentrated to such a degree that Jack felt like his eyeballs were vibrating. Concentrating through the unsettling sensation, the swordsman flicked out his lighter, calling forth a fiery sword with practiced ease. He glanced around the edge of the clearing warily. "Hold that thought, Leon, we got company. Freaky company."

Another quick one, could I get this added as an image to Jack's sheet: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3477/401 ... a2e0_o.jpg Jack of Blades updated by the Ace of Spades

For the sake of argument, with Set-Up, Distract, Fascinate and Taunt running off of a +19 Bluff, Jack should already be able to provide some support services, as the need arises. As an added bonus, improved Charisma for Inspire will pump that as well. Synergy! Don't forget that Velocity can actually hit just as hard as All-Star should the need arise, at DC 27 each. Colt can match that too, up close, but obviously attacking from a distance gives him way more options, putting his raw damage in the same ballpark as Grim's claws, with Jack, 'Wing and Blink being the lightest touches. There are other considerations, like Blink's mad Grapple skills or Colt's ability to Affect Insubstantial, of course, but that the general hierarchy of smashiness. As far as teleporting goes, don't forget about distance. Right now, 300 feet is the max. Even without the Short-Range flaw, Teleport 3 can only make 1000 feet on the Extended Range Table. With Progression 2, Blink can already transport 500 lbs, which is enough for any three of us other than All-Star, so it probably makes sense to focus of range first. Buying off Short-Range would be 3 points, with each new rank being another 3 after that. That's 9 point to get to 5 miles, for example. In the mean time, I guess we could just make multiple jumps to get where we're going.

Yeah, I expect it'll take most of us a while to reconfigure into 'team mode'. Which, conveniently, works in character, too. I figure four more points of Charisma for Jack, five for Inspire, probably a couple ranks of Luck to make it all worthwhile... Not happening overnight, but it's doable. It works out well; he's designed to dance around an opponent and wear them down without getting hit himself. If the team needs a one turn, Inspire-fueled Hail Mary pass, giving up his turn to do it seems like a good deal. We were talking a bit about developing various teamwork abilities earlier; now that we've got a final roster, maybe we should revisit that. If we spread things around, we won't have to sacrifice as much of each character's personal development. Pumping Blink's teleportation to serve as transportation is a great example of balancing the two concerns.

Alright, I'm just putting this out there: Jack is not getting carried. There's always one dude on the team who has to get carried around by his armpits by a flier, and he always looks like a complete twit. So... no. That said, he could hitch a ride on the back of one of the cycles if need be, or with Blink once her teleporting is upgraded. It might make sense to have some kind of support vehicle anyway; you never know when you'll have cart out supplies or civilians or something.

Not so much with the Drive; Jack had (appropriately enough) Jack-of-all-Trades and Dex 20, so he can Drive at +5, which is enough to get around but not do anything fancy with any reliability. It seems silly for Colt not to ride his own vehicle, especially when it's a Device and everything, but with all the other things on his shopping list it'll be a while before Jack can put any points into Drive himself. He could probably make due in the meantime; +5 is no +10 with Skill Mastery, but it's serviceable.

Erik gave Dead Head a terse nod and left the haunted house, hands in his pockets and fuming. He was still angry, and it slowly dawned on him that he wasn't even sure why. Marcus had been out of line, but he hadn't done any legitimate damage and, admittedly, a real life zombie was enough to throw most people off their game. It wasn't like Erik and Dead Head were best friends or anything, either; he'd only ever run into the ghoul once before. There hadn't even been any real loss to his secret identity. It wasn't like Dead Head could look 'Jack' up in the phone book, nor did the young man expect the zombie was likely to act upon knowing what he looked like out of costume at all. As far as Marcus knew, he was just some random guy who kept strange company... and was a bit of an overreacting jerk. Joy, they had something in common. He walked through the carnival, stepping around the crowd using his energy sense, not really watching where he was going, and for a moment he determined that he must be upset because he hadn't been prepared to deal with super human stuff tonight. It was supposed to be time to decompress, to get back in touch with being Erik. With a flash of insight, however, he realized that wasn't it at all. He was annoyed because, had he been in costume, he could have gone in sword blazing and started a brawl himself. His body was tense like that of an athlete who had deviated from their workout schedule. He wanted to run, to jump, to fight. He wanted to be Jack of all Blades, not a nameless carnival-goer. Still mulling over the implications of his revelation, Erik let the flow of the crowd take him towards the fire-eating performance.

Erm, Jack's a little... transportation impaired as well.

Just a quick thing; with Grappling Finesse, Jack's Grapple should now be +16. Sandman will refrain from "I grapple the troll" references.

Erik pointed a finger at Dead Head. "He's a zombie." He brought the hand back to jab a thumb at his own chest. "I'm his friend." Finally he completed the motion by indicating Marcus. And you're a blockhead!" Erik threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "Here's a fun tip: superpowers plus randomly hitting people generally equals a bad time! Now how's about everybody stepping outside so we don't ruin some poor kid's haunted house going experience, huh?"

Ye-ah, rent control! Sorry, WM, I can't open your link. It's... forbidden! This the sort of thing we're talking about? (Alternatively, http://www.southholland.org/TownCenter/images/Brownstone_Rendering1A.jpg)

Erik grimaced as Dead Head reattached his head. "Man, that's just not right..." He turned to Marcus, if only to avoid looking at the ghoul. "Hey, glow-for-brains, watch it! Not everybody can put themselves back together, you knock their freaking head off! Can a guy get a day off in this town, or what?" To be honest, Erik wasn't all that upset with the jock; no real harm had been done. His real problem was that his attempt at grounding himself had turned into mediating a disagreement between a zombie and an obvious powerhouse, all while out of costume. He resisted the urge to smash his head against a wall.

Personally, I like the idea of the brownstone, just because it gives the team a chance to hang out like regular human beings on occasion. It seems like you'd get detached from reality pretty quickly, actually living in an underground base hidden beneath an abandoned building. I like the idea of the pseudo-Outsiders vibe, though.

Well, theoretically, Doc A met Jack during the 'Days of High Adventure' storyline, though that's fallen a bit by the wayside. Either way, this sounds like a plan! The HQ we were discussing is pretty much a brownstone house on top of secret, underground facilities. Oh, and the core rulebook has a private jet that's conveniently exactly 17ep, but that's without any kind of added features. If the mission statement is to focus on Freedom City itself, does a jet really make sense?

Ha, if we're getting our X on, the infiltration missions are going to call for all-black versions of our costumes with red-eyed masks. I think some sort of mass transportation is in order, certainly.

"Shotgun Raguel" would be a great name for a band. I dunno, 'Archangels' seems like something the Doc might name them, but it's a little sanctimonious for most of the actual members. Personally I still prefer 'The Interceptors'. That said, there's nothing stopping Doc from thinking of them as his seven archangels... In which case *cough*Zerachiel*cough* Maybe they could serve as code names for infiltration missions?

It didn't take long for Jack to find Leon's clearing once he started following the sounds of training. He found the monk delivering powerful blow after blow against a tree. The swashbuckler simply watched the martial artist for a moment, impressed by his tenacity. Jack considered himself more of a finesse fighter, but Leon's ability to rain punishment on a foe, regardless of personal discomfort, gave him pause. Eventually, the swordsman cleared his throat loudly and stepped further into the clearing. "Uh, hey, Leon!" Jack lifted the foil resting on his shoulder up a few inches, drawing attention to it. "You still up for some sparring? I don't want to mess up your, like, monk mojo or whatever you've got going on with the arboreal abuse."

Seven actually seems like a good number anyway; let's the team split up into groups when need be, and provides some wiggle room if someone's temporarily unavailable. The infiltration possibilities are pretty awesome, too; Colt, RW and Jack all have enough Stealth to at least hide in the bushes as back-up, and I'm betting All-Star provides one heck of a distraction.

Erik sighed, and took Dead Head's hand. "Sure, man, I'm here for a while. I'll meet you around the exit of the 'house." So much for protecting the old secret identity, he groused in his head. To be fair, Dead Head really wasn't in a position to spread what Erik looked like sans mask around, and at least the swashbuckler could fall back of the natural assumption that his real name actually was Jack. No real harm done. A Dead Head went back to work, Erik clapped the confused jock on the shoulder and walked through the remainder of the haunted house with him. "Short version: Dead Head back there is a zombie, but he subscribes the Casper School of the Undead." After a pause he clarified, "He's friendly. Dude's gotta make a living, I guess; working at the carnival's pretty slick." He crossed his arms and glanced at the broad shouldered man beside him. "Dunno how much damage you coulda actually done to him, but you maybe wanna be careful with the 'powers first, questions later' thing, huh?"

Jack leapt upon the carjackers, targeting the one with a running buzz saw in his hand first. As a slash from the swashbucklers flaming sword reduced the power tool to useless slag, Jack continued with his forward momentum, tossing the shocked thug backward and into one of his peers. Springing off on a car hood, the hero flipped through the air, launching himself feet first into a third criminal with a satisfying thump. A trio of the carjackers hit the garage floor before the rest even had time to react. The remaining thugs, brandishing pipe wrenches and hack saws, charged with a yell.

Notice Check (1d20+10=12) , so Jack remains completely oblivious to Leon and Zealot. I figure we'll just put down these carjackers quickly so that we can move on to the real action.

Erik walked a bit behind Marcus and Cyndi, giving the couple a modicum of privacy. He'd never been one to startle easily, and the paltry decorations of the carnival attraction served as more of a curiosity that anything. He realized with some concern how detached he felt from the experience. After fighting for his life against super powered foes, a haunted house seemed like such a non event. As they ventured further in, however, Erik felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a feeling of unease resting in the pit of his stomach. Ever since his powers had been awakened, he'd had a vague sense for the energy around him, from hidden power lines to the electrical fields running through all living things. Even now he could subtly sense the pair walking in front of him even without looking. Concentrating on the uncomfortable feeling, he realized that there was another presence somewhere in the building, one that felt almost like a person, but was somehow... off. The thought of a creepy, not-quite-right porcelain doll sprang to the young man's mind. After a moment it slowly dawned on him that it was a sensation he recognized. Dead Head...? came the surprised thought. Before he could consider further, the leather jacketed ghoul made his presence known in no uncertain terms. A smirk flicked across Erik's lips. He had to hand it to the zombie; finding honest work couldn't be easy with his particular condition. Suddenly a sharp tingle ran through Erik's body as the musclebound jock shouted, his body's energy level flaring up in Erik's sixth sense. Fortunately he was already between the superpowered bruiser and the playacting zombie, and he raised his hands to forestall both of them. "Whoa, zap-happy, reign it in, huh?" He turned to regard the ghoul. "Honestly, 'Head, you're only perpetuating negative stereotypes here."

Man, good mix! We were talking about this in chat last night; we've got an easygoing sharpshooter, an overconfident powerhouse, a furious ex-sidekick, a smart-mouthed swashbuckler, a thrill-seeking thief and now a peppy speedster. Couldn't have come together better if we'd planned it!