Gizmo

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?

Probably makes more sense for it to be a new thread; meeting Colby isn't really an 'intervention', and it's more about Grim specifically than the Interceptors collectively.

Jack and Colt head to a bar while Grim goes to talk with the cops. Score.

(Continued from Interceptors: Intervention) Leaving Lynn to contact her friend on the FCPD, Jack and Colt changed into their civilian clothes and headed out into the city. In his short months in Freedom, Colt had noted the locations of a number of local bars, but the native West Ender led them past the obvious spots to a discrete hole in the wall a couple of blocks from the brownstones. Only a simple neon sign reading a neutral 'BAR' heralded the heavy wooden oak door with a poorly repaired crack down the middle. Inside a rattling radiator staved off the chilled January air next to a long wooden bar and a number of tables. Dressed in a heavy denim jacket and jeans, Jack pulled up as chair and raised a pair of fingers to the bartender, who nodded briefly and began pouring two drafts. The young man rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I think this is the longest I've gone out of mask in a month, not counting sleeping," he admitted to Colt.

Jack's going to keep focusing on Force, despite his hardcore shutdown and complete inability to fly, invoking his 'Sucker for a Pretty Face' complication. In the meantime, does his energy awareness tell him anything general about her powers?

Jack winced inwardly as the metal beam collided with the teenager down below. Teens with powers; never a good idea. Miraculously, the boy seemed to be alright, if inconvenienced. With a full set of opponents of the field, however, the swordsman was just going to have to trust him to take care of himself. Fortunately it looked like Mongrel Angel had arrived and was watching the hipster's back, though Jack noted with some confusion that the winged heroine looked about a decade or so older than when he'd last seen her. Nice. Babygirl filled out. Clearing his head, he turned his attention to his current dance partner. "See, I know you were trying to be all bad ass there," he called over to Force, "but all I heard was 'blah blah blah pretty boy blah blah we should totally make out'." The swashbuckler grinned, his posture deceptively relaxed and unconcerned. "Or maybe I was just picking on the subtext there."

Rolling is for chumps! Jack's going to toss out a DC 31 Trick at Force, to convince her to get within melee range, and a Taunt sped up to a move action at DC 26. Gotta test the waters, see what the scintillating swordman's up against here.

"Yeah, well, who is," Jack grunted, reluctant to find himself in complete agreement with the preternaturally temperate energy being. Straightening his jacket, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off, carefully picking his way across various pieces of boxing ring as he walked. The swordsman grimaced as he suppressed a retch and wiped the last trickle of blood away from his upper lip. Uh, gotta brush my teeth. He thought for a moment and reconsidered. Screw it, I've got an hour. I'm going to take a freakin' shower. Ignoring the continuing cheers of the crowd, he made his way to the area's exit.