Gizmo

Alright, then! First, Jack is going to Taunt as a move action. (1d20+16=19), then Feint (1d20+21=40), using Set Up to transfer the surprise attack to Colt. Finally, he takes up a Defensive Stance for a +2 dodge bonus.

The waves of terror and hopelessness washed over Jack like crashing waves against a cliff face as All-Star dropped him in front of the pen outside before speeding off toward the burning building. The swashbuckler felt a tentative calm suffuse as he landed, drawing a fiery blade to his hand from the surrounding blaze. He doubted there was much he could do to stop the overwhelming onslaught, and with that realization came a clarity of purpose; he would buy the innocent bystanders as much time as he could. He stood to face the demonic creature guarding the door to the enclosure with a smirk. "Well, aren't you just ten pounds of ugly in a two pound bag," he taunted as he whirled his sword in dizzying patterns before him. Jack lunged suddenly, not trying to actually hit the beast, only to test his defenses and open him up to further attack. "Now, why don't I ever get to go up against those succubi and fine demon ladies you hear so much about?" he mused, shifting his weight in anticipation of the demons inevitable attack.

Looks like ex3lev3n was right; neither of them have been on since the site change. Anybody know how to get in touch with them?

The smiley seems to be mucking things up. I tired creating a link without it, which worked just fine, redundant though that may be at this point. Anyway, nice find with that photo, Heritage! I was looking at something like this for the ribcage and arm bones, but you definitely found a wicked calaca mariachi! EDIT: For the sake of argument, Ellie's 'Peoplebuster' costume was inspired by an episode of The Real Ghostbusters where the main characters get sent to an alternate universe where ghost versions of themselves bust living humans in 'Boo York'. Hence: Peoplebusters.

Jack let out a low whistle. "Jeez..." The idea of justice going to the quickest draw or the highest bidder was pretty tough to accept. Then again, he wondered, how different is that from the way we do it in Freedom? With the number of super criminals and vigilantes in the city, things seemed to come down to who could hit harder more often than not. Maybe most of us don't charge the people we're protecting, but we don't really answer to anyone, either. What makes powered brawls different from frontier justice? The calaca mariachi's eyes lit up behind the hollow-looking rings of black face paint. "Wait, do you have Hallowe'en back home? El Día de los Muertos, anything like that?" The whole disguises and intentional creepiness had to be a little odd out of context, especially since a sizable portion of Colt's exposure to their world so far had come at the hands of costumed heroes. Jill walked over to stand next to Nadia and Lynn. "So..." she said, pursing her lips and nodding expectantly. "What do you two, y'know... do?" The teen wiggled her fingers and made a 'zapping' sound effect.

A wry quip about Jack's reluctance to share personal information died in Jill's throat as Colt produced his firearm and she bit her lip. Her brother was generally affable, projecting a carefree disposition, particularly while in 'Jack of all Blades-mode', but she knew that guns were the worst of his hot buttons. To his credit, only someone who knew him as well as she did would have noticed the stiffness as he replied to the marksman. "Preaching to the choir; I stopped weapons development at 'pointy end faces opponent'." Jack leaned against the kitchen counter, shifting his prop vihuela out of the way. "I guess I wasn't wondering about tech so much as history. Here the 'Wild West' days died partly because things got too settled and crowed out there. Was your population that much lower?"

The skeleton teeth painted on Jack's lips twisted into a smirk as Kristian carried the plant past their glitter wearing comrade. He couldn't make out what the young man had said, nor would he have understood the Russian if he had, but from Nadia's reaction the swordsman had a pretty good guess as to the gist of it. She's got to have the better part of a decade on him, he mused. The smirk became a full on grin as he admitted to himself, Not that that would have stopped me at his age. The smile fell a few notches as Colt got into character. Chief Sitting-Bull not familiar with concept of cultural sensitivity. It occurred to Jack that the other-dimensional cowboy was operating with an entirely different set of cultural norms. It was easy to imagine he had simply walked out of a western film, rather than a world with a complete, alternate history. "Y'know, Colt," he said aloud, "I never really got the chance to ask you about your world. We've been so busy showing you how this one works, but we don't know much about your old stomping grounds beyond stetsons and flying motorcycles." Jill gave Nadia a broad smile. "You want to hear embarrassing stories about Jack, amirite?" She elbowed her brother in the ribs. "I should have brought that album of baby photos Mom loves pulling out."

Oh, I think we can hold on for a bit to give War and Thevshi time to roll initiative, at least. What does everyone else think?

Ha, that'd explain a lot. *demon roars* "Nnnh, keep it down, would ya? My head is killing me! Agh, what day is it? I feel like I haven't shaved in like a week..." So, we've got: 24 - Jack 18 - Colt 14 - Blink 13 - Grim 11 - Razorwing Uh... thank goodness for Velocity? We average pretty good initiative bonuses, too. Go figure.

Though his sister gave a start, Jack responded to the sudden appearance of the deathly apparition with a grateful nod, passing the potted plant to the younger man. "Thanks, Kris, thing's a bit unwieldy. Just set it down wherever; we can find a decent corner for it later." The calaca mariachi gestured with his free hands. "Jill, this is Kristian, Kris, my sister. She's about the same age as you, wanted to come check out the, ah, new pad and all." Jill extended a hand before realizing that Kristian's were busy with the massive fern. "You're one of Jack's... housemates, then?" She gave the funereal teen an appraising look, not bothering to conceal her attempt to figure out which of the Interceptors she was speaking with. The siblings followed the reaper into the larger area of the kitchen. Jack offered the gathered party goers a brief wave. "Hey folks, looking festive. Ah, this is my sister Jill; our mother sends her regards and a really big plant. It's very... leafy." He pointed out the others in turn. "That'd be Lynn, who set this shindig up, Colt, who's going for the ironic costume thing, and Nadia, who is extra Russian today, I guess."

Jack suppressed a truly epic groan, reducing it to a wince. You just gave the socially awkward girl the third degree over the army brat version of a security blanket. Smooth move, hero. He coughed to cover the awkwardness. "Mob, yeah, sounds like a place to start. If a couple of us can get in undercover, the rest can start intercepting drug deals, robberies, whatever. Beats the heck out of patrolling and hoping to get lucky."

"You can't have a housewarming without a houseplant," Ellie Espadas informed her brother as they walked down the street to the brownstone apartment. "It's an accepted societal norm." "It's surprisingly heavy, is what it is," Erik groused, shifting his grip on pot of the sizable fern their mother had insisted on sending along with them. He suspected that this was part of her way of dealing with one of her children finally moving out, even if was only a fifteen minute walk or so away, but Erik frankly wished she could have chosen a plant that wasn't big enough to count as another housemate. The swordsman known as Jack of all Blades wore a black, silver studded charro outfit with a gold ribcage printed on the shirt and matching bones running down the sleeves of the jacket and the fingers of his gloves. Black El Día de los Muertos patterns adorned the cranberry collar and sash, while a similarly decorated band wrapped around his wide-brimmed sombrero. His face was obscured by greasepaint, creating a grinning calaca skull dotted with red and black designs. The prop vihuela strapped to his back completed the outfit. The younger Espadas wore a torn tan jumpsuit, belted at the waist. Her left hand was covered by a black glove, but her right sported a deathly pallor and wicked claws. The pale makeup covered her face as well, contrasting with black lipstick and lines of faux stitches. A streak of white ran through her long black wig, which fell over the tank of green slime she wore like a backpack. A tube connected the tank to a modified water pistol that hung from her belt, and a tag on the front of the jumpsuit proclaimed her to be a 'Peoplebuster'. "You don't have to come to this thing, you know," Erik told his sister. "If you've got another party, something with your friends..." Ellie waved off his concerns. "Not parties full of actual superheroes, hermano," she grinned. "That pretty much trumps everything. Who'd have thought you'd have such cool friends, huh?" Her brother raised an eyebrow, although it was difficult to see under his makeup. "You do realize I'm a superhero, right?" "Yeah, but you, Erik, are totally lame," she snorted. "It's not your fault I inherited all of the awesome in the family, but still..." "That's 'you, Jack, are totally lame,'" he reminded her. "I can't keep my mask on all the time, but I don't need anybody looking us up in the phonebook. Which means for the evening, you-" "Are 'Jill'," his sister finished for him. "Bit on the nose, but if it helps you sleep at night, ya big baby, fine." 'Jack' grunted noncommitally as they finally reached the brownstone. Fumbling with the oversized plant to free a hand, he rapped on the door.

Are we talking about an alter-ego party, like, "Hey neighbour-type people! We're a bunch of unassuming and totally normal young people who just moved in! Watch as we do unassuming and totally normal things like throw Hallowe'en parties!" Or are we talking a hero party, like, "Hey hero-type people! Check out our new HQ! Hallowe'en parties are almost as awesome as fighting crime, amirite?" I'd vote for the former, just because we're trying to keep things on the down low to a certain extent. Other heroes could still come, they'd just be in their civilian identities; Hallowe'en costumes with masks would take care of any secret identity issues. We could probably swing it either way, though.

Jack took a step closer to Colt, setting his jaw. "I don't know if they've got AK-47s over in Westworld, but 'shooting up the place' is pretty much what they're for. And if Sparky misses a punch, it doesn't fly off into the crowd. It doesn't accidentally put a good cop in a wheelchair!" The swordsman's voice started off at just above a whisper, but got louder and more intense as he spoke, until he was nearly shouting. As if suddenly realizing this, he turned and took several steps away from the cowboy, running a hand across his eyes. When he turned to Blink his inflection was carefully modulated. "Look, you're trained, you know what you're doing, I get that." Jack let out a long breath. "The gun thing is my hang-up, and I don't get to tell you what to do. So I'm asking, at least leave the automatic stuff here unless you know you're gonna need it. Please." The young man clearly wasn't used to making such compromises, but his tone was sincere and held a note of apology. A brief glance in Colt's direction carried the same offering of remorse.

Nah, don't worry about it. It gave Jack an excuse to talk to All-Star. He knows the big guy can get those people to relative safety a lot better than he could. Jack's a proud guy, but he's pretty much asking for help here. Besides, All-Star chucking him at the demon is way funnier and more visually interesting.

Jack let his sword disappear with a flourish, the fire losing shape and vanishing into the air. Keeping his lighter palmed inconspicuously, he took a seat on one of the newly formed benches. "Well. Phenomenal cosmic powers and exterior decorating. You don't miss a trick, do you? I think maybe we can put that training on hold for a minute, huh?" he asked, looking at Leon, then shifted to face Dead Head. "Since I get the impression any answers from Better House and Garden over there are going to be 'your pitiful human intellect could not hope to comprehend' flavoured, what's your story? You just wake up all corpsefied one day and figure, 'hey, roadtrip'?"

"I'm not doing the fist thing," Jack said flatly as he vaulted over the bank of monitors. "All-Star, I'm going to regret this so very, very much, but I need you to fly me in as close to that big one as you can get me, then start getting those people out of there with Blink and Velocity." He looked the big man squarely in the eyes, and spoke in a low tone. "Those are my neighbours, man. Maybe my family. You can get more of them out faster than any of us." Jack's eyes were strained with ill-concealed worry, his jaunty manner struggling to mask his very real concern. This would be a crucible for the entire team, but for the native West Ender it was sharply personal. The swashbuckler grinned and continued, his voice brighter and wry, "Just do it quick so you can come pull my butt out of the hellfire, huh? I'm just gonna keep the freaky thing occupied, not punch it out."

Initiative (1d20+9=24) Are we sticking to initiative order right away, or are we waiting until we actually get there? I just mean in terms of figuring out our game plan and such.

Jack looked between Blink, Colt and the monitors incredulously. It took him several moments to form words. "The hell you say!" He gestured emphatically with his hands, conveying an agitation which was eating through his previously relaxed demeanor. "Look, I'm not wild about Annie Oakley packing heat in the first place, but at least he's got special-magic-rubber-future-bullets. There is no way on God's green earth that anyone's bringing assault rifles into my neighbourhood!" He looked around the room as the others reacted to his outburst. "I don't. Like. Guns," he explained flatly.

Jack stepped away from the monitors to better face the rest of the people in the room. "Y'know, that's not actually what Freud meant by 'super-ego', Sparky." He shook his head. "'Marshals' is kinda the same problem; in this dimension it'd pretty much read as 'Cowboy Colt and his Amazing Buckaroos'. I mean, I'm not suggesting we go by 'The Wild Cards' or something." The swordsman paused. "Although... kidding, kidding!" he raised his hand defensively. "Did you already have something in mind, Doc?"

Hinted nothing, it's explicitly stated. Good catch. With that in mind, I think we'd want to stick it on the 18th at least, since a few of the 'flashbacks' at the beginning would conflict with having spent the previous evening at the carnival.

Jack glanced at the woman who had just entered the clearing. "I think you just got dissed by the walking forest fire," he noted absently. Turning back to the elemental, he continued, "Now where were you when I was trying to come up with a codename? 'Energy Sword Human'; the merchandising rights sell themselves. That said, I guess I'll be sticking with Jack of all Blades for now." The hero lowered his sword, but kept it ignited and looked between the two more exotic characters present warily. "Alright, so, Dead Head and Tempest. Great. That's... great. So we know who we're talking to. 'Who' is important. How about moving on to 'what'?"

Jack let out a long breath. This would be a big change. Understatement of the year... If he could pull down the equivalent of a full time job and spend more time out on the streets, he could stop worrying about Ellie's tuition and do a lot more good, to say nothing of the underground base's resources and having actual teammates. Now that was going to take some getting used to. "Okay, Doc, sign me up. Team needs somebody who knows his way around the West End." The swordsman smirked and quirked an eyebrow. "Can't let Sparky grab all the glory anyway, huh?"

A number of things clicked into place for Jack when Archeville appeared next to Vince. The evident resources, the level of technology, the surprising membership choices all suddenly made a lot more sense. Guess I made a good impression during that whole medieval tournament thing, he supposed. He stepped sideways to stand slightly behind and to the side of Blink while facing the monitor. "Huh. Hey, Doc, good to see you looking a little less D&D and a little more R&D. 'From Russia With Love' and 'Winchester '73' here have a point. Not to sound mercenary, but Vince did mention something about... easing certain financial burdens." If joining up with this team could pay for his sister's education, Jack's decision was pretty much made for him.

Aw, nuts. Teach me not to check the OOC first. Sorry, Doc. Say the word and it's gone.