Gizmo

Jack's stunned through his turn, but with Burn knocked out it wears off right after that.

Well, from Sinestro's perspective, he's always been about saving the universe by providing justice and order. He just happened to think that the best way to do that was to rule over it with an iron fist. He put that on pause for a while because his ridiculous ego demanded revenge against the Guardians for kicking him out of the Corps, but I think deep down he never stopped thinking of himself as a Green Lantern; maybe even the only real Green Lantern, and certainly the best. That's probably why Hal ticks him off so much: everyone's always going on about how Jordan's the greatest Lantern ever. Screw that! He's just as weak and shortsighted as the rest of them! Only Sinestro has the vision required for true greatness! Hal merging with Parallax has got to be like your assistant getting the promotion you've been working toward for years. Well not this time, buddy boy! This time Sinestro's gonna show all a' y'all!

Stepping into the mercifully empty washroom, Erik leaned against a door of stall, crossing his arms and sighing. About five seconds later he realized that he was leaning against the door of a stall in the men's room of a bar and stood straight with a wince. "Well ew," he noted glumly. Looking vaguely upward, the fencer rubbed the back of his head with one hand. Lynn had a point; merchandise based on their heroic identities could likely raise a substantial amount of money for any number of good causes. Still, something about the idea nagged at him. The swashbuckler had to admit that he possessed a dramatic side, one prone to theatrical displays, but that had always been a release for him, not about impressing an audience. This kind of self-promotion felt like celebrity seeking. He certainly didn't relish the idea of worrying about how his image would effect the next quarter's profits. It was one thing for the Freedom League to sell toys and t-shirts, but a relatively unknown group like the Interceptors? Then again, maybe he was being selfish, trying to avoid additional responsibility when he should be trying to find new ways he could do good. No, that's not fair, Erik reflected, looking at himself in the mirror over the washroom sink. I can't do everything, and it would be stupid to try. His goal when he took up the identity of Jack of all Blades was to keep his neighbourhood safe. The definition of that 'neighbourhood' had expanded some since then, but the intent behind that vow remained unchanged. Perhaps one day his exploits would garner attention which warranted a line of sneakers and lunch boxes, but in the meantime he was disinclined to seek them out. His mind made up, he stepped back into the bar.

Heh, I think I saw a pic somewhere of the TARDIS itself as a Blue Lantern. I enjoyed the other picture from that Scans Daily post, which summed up Sinestro's philosophy regarding his spoilerific new costume change. As far as interesting oaths go, I've always been partial to the mantra of one Jack T. Chance: You who are wicked, evil and mean I'm the nastiest creep you've ever seen! Come one, come all, put up a fight I'll pound your butts with Green Lantern's light! Yowza.

Erik snorted. He'd certainly never considered himself a role model; widespread public acceptance aside, his behaviour was technically illegal and certainly not to be imitated. The acrobat was about to make a snarky joke about being too indie to sell out like that when Lynn mentioned fallen police officers. His grin immediately dropped a notch, though he recovered nearly as quickly, hiding his expression by taking a long pull of his drink. "Yeah, well, it's an idea, anyway," he replied noncommittally as he set the glass back down. Feeling a wave of his recent moodiness washing over him, he smirked and pointed a thumb to the back of the bar. "'Scuse me while I avail myself of the facilities, huh?" Standing up, he sauntered nonchalantly to the washroom, refusing to let his melancholy show in view of his friends.

Erik poked his tiny simulacrum uncertainly. "Hrm. Only if mine looks nothing like me - in the face, anyway. The last thing I need is to start handing out little shortpacked headshots." Picking the figure up, he moved the arms and legs around experimentally. "Give him a cleft chin or a moustache or something. He need double joints in the knees, too, to recreate my iconic, acrobatic poses." A touch of wryness entered the swashbuckler's tone as he set the toy back down in a traditional fencing stance. "Regardless, I don't think we're so hard up for funds we need to resort to licensing deals."

Groovy, I'll set something up once the PP awards are official. For the sake of argument, yeah durf, he's transferring in the middle of the year. The idea is that Summers found out about there was a new Midnight running around, and it didn't take much work to figure out Trevor's identity. As part of the informal brotherhood of guys who wait in shadows to scare the hell out of naughty men, he invited the kid to attend Claremont. I'm pumped, 'cause Midnight is sort of a challenge I've set for myself. Jack of all Blades plays to my natural verbosity, so I thought I'd give a more serious, laconic character a try. Filling out the questionnaire, I've gotten a better feel for his personality, and he's definitely someone I think I'll enjoy writing about.

*gnash gnash gnash* Clearly we need to set up a combined attack or a crippling number of debuffs here. Do Taunts from multiple sources stack? What's Phantom working on again?

Definitely, quote; they've both got the whole nocturnal thing going on, should make for some neat, spooky stories. What's the usual procedure for starting up at Claremont?

I haven't, actually, but I take your point! I guess Power Attack on projectile weapons always seemed a little odd to me. Are you willing the bullet to hit harder? I can buy doing more damage because of your deadly aim, but that's practically the opposite of what Power Attack represents! There should be some sort of Aim related +DC/-Defense feat for ranged attacks. ...actually, there probably shouldn't be, but you see what I'm saying.

The rock chucking is sort of a weird thing, huh? I mean, he's throwing a rock straight up, but it can do way more damage than a hand gun? I see how it works within the rules, but it's still pretty nuts. I guess it's the Power Attack that really does it.

As the thugs were set back down, Jack's energy sense alerted him to wisps on mystical power countering Dark Star's intentions. Following them back to their source, he caught sight of the woman on the rooftop just as Colt pelted her with a rock. Cocking an eyebrow, the acrobat took a step back and charged toward the far wall of the alleyway. With a great leap, he somersaulted through the air, coming out of it just in time to plant his feet on the wall and spring off upward in the opposite direction. Arcing over those below, he repeated the move to launch even higher. His free hand shot out to grasp the edge of the wall just under the woman's feet, his momentum allowing Jack to flip himself up to stand next to her, gravitational blade held casually at his side. "So," he said with a roguish grin, "come here often?"

Alright, so as described above, it looks like Jack will get himself up to the rooftop as a full round action. That makes it Doktor A's go, yeah?

March is pretty much here, which means that my new character, Midnight II, is about to go live! You can check out his deal from the link in my signature, but the basic idea is that he's a legacy hero, new Claremont student and a real 'justice from the shadows' type. I'd like to set up an arrival thread for him at the school, plus any other threads folks might be interested in. So, y'know. Let me know, and stuff.

"If a gal could have your attention, folks," Rose called to the occupants of the bank, slipping her hands into her pockets. Bey's hand went to his holstered weapon instinctively, but wavered in confusion when the young woman withdrew a pair of brass knuckles and placed them on her hands. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to be taking all your money now, m'kay?" The customers and teller exchanged confused looks. "Now see here, miss," the security guard began. Rose sighed in irritation. "Argh, c'mon, this isn't a toughie." She pointed to herself, enunciating clearly. "Su-per-vill-ain. Questions? Comments? A demonstration, maybe." Drawing her arms apart, she brought them together with a thunderous clap, the resulting shockwave tossing the customers waiting in line back into the counter. Reacting swiftly, Bey drew his weapon and fired. His aim was true, catching Rose squarely in the back. Instead of dropping the criminal however, there was a slight shimmer as the she absorbed the bullet's kinetic energy. Turning to face the security guard, she smirked. "That'd be the 'super' part, right there." Using the confusion to is advantage, Erik quickly ducked into the office and unzipped his backpack, withdrawing a heavy greatcoat.

Though Jack of all Blades' mind took a moment to understand what was going on as the direction of gravity's pull suddenly reversed, his body reacted immediately. Spinning in the air, he landed firmly with both feet on the ceiling, coiling his legs above him. Launching downward he swiped quickly back and forth with his blade. "How'd you know I always wanted to go to space camp as a kid?"

Reflex save vs. DC 23. (1d20+15=33) Alright, so Jackie B will down/up off of the ceiling and make a couple Power Attacks against EDS, courtesy of a surge. Power Attack 5 (1d20+10=19) That's DC 27. He might fumble, I guess! Power Attack 5 (1d20+10=21) That's another DC 27.

Security Guard: Initiative (1d20+1=18) Jack of all Blades: Initiative (1d20+9=13) Jaci O' Cups: Initiative (1d20+2=3) Since Jack already has his bodysuit on under his civvies, I'm assuming it'll only take a couple of rounds for him to change. Call it artistic license in this case. Security guard shoots: Attack (1d20+3=17) That hits Rose, but her Absorption easily takes the +3 damage from the bullets.

"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.