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September 26, 2011 The West End 9 AM Things were in a bad way in the West End, what with the upcoming apocalypse. The Gorgon was only about thirty-six hours from making contact with the Earth, her silvery shape as clearly visible as Mars in the clear Freedom City night sky, promising a doom for all humanity should she get closer. The Freedom League was fighting the Gorgon and her train in space; the Lab crew had gone into the sky to unlock the scientific secrets of the monster coming to devour the Earth. (Sure, that wasn't technically her mission, but good luck telling that to the man walking down the street listening to apocalyptic street corner preachers pronouncing the imminent doom of man to all passersby.) There was a war in space, but a battle on the streets was imminent. Street-level heroes had been busy catching crooks and putting down disasters, but there were so many threats. The heroes of the West End had reason to be a little understaffed these days, anyway...The flashpoint came outside a local bodega near the Espadas home, when two uniforms from the local FCPD station came out to move one of those doomsaying street preachers off the streets. This gentleman, though, a wide-eyed man with thick glasses and a "PRAY FOR MERCY" sandwich board hung around his neck, wasn't willing to give in. "What's the point of doing what you pigs say?" he demanded, his fear rallying the crowd of onlookers who'd been listening to his sermonizing (and, not incidentally, blocking the door of the San Domingo Market whose manager had called them in the first place) to shout at the cops. "We're all gonna die anyway! The supers have run off! They left us to rot down here on the streets while they ran away into space and into their fancy other dimensions. Don't we deserve the right to have a little happiness now before she takes us all!?!" he exclaimed, pointing to the sky as the crowd roared. Normally West Enders were a bit more skeptical than this, but nerves were fraying. "How dare these fatcat shopkeepers keep what they have when the end is coming. I say, let's take what we want and give them a taste of their own greed before we're all gone! Who's with me?"

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Omnia Mutantur, Nihil Interit and ArchEvil: Gestalt Theory. The foe was abominable, and the battle long, but the heroes prevailed. A great pseudonatural beast from beyond time and space, something which had apparently been slumbering in and influencing the science hero Doktor Viktor Archeville, had been banished, but at a terrible price. Archeville, reborn to a new (now fully human) body, stared at the spot where the fight had been, wrapped in his lover Fulcrum's cape, the only thing of her that remained on the battlefield in North Bay. She was gone, swallowed up by the explosion of Terminus energy that expelled the beat; chances were even of them either being atomized, or tossed into some other dimension. Archeville's mouth hung agape. He stared, bleary eyed, hands still reaching out where Fulcrum had last held them. Mona...

Doubt we'll need this, but who knows?

Jack of all Blades Power Level: 15 (250/250PP)* [392] Trade-Offs: +5 Attack, -5 Damage, +5 Defense, -5 Toughness Unspent Power Points: 0 Theme: Spark by Fitz and the Tantrums *Jack's caps average out to PL13. For Jack's original sheet, click here. In Brief: Swashbuckling scion of a secret society of sorcerous swordsmen, shepherding streetwise superheroes! Alternate Identity: Erik Espadas Identity: Secret Birthplace: Freedom City, West End Occupation: Self-Defense Instructor Affiliations: The Interceptors Family: Minerva Espadas/Guardian Willow (wife), Eden Espadas (daughter), Mia Espadas (daughter), Ellie Espadas/Jill O'Cure (sister), Gina Espadas (mother), Jean Pique (father) Description: Age: 27 (DoB: April 4, 1988) Gender: Male Ethnicity: Latino/French Height: 5'11" Weight: 160 lb. Hair: Dusty Brown/Black as Jack of all Blades Eyes: Dark Blue Erik Espadas is a lithe, athletic young man with attractively angular features and a boyish grin. He keeps his dusty brown hair shorn short, but regularly sports a day or two of stubble. Preferring to dress is a mixture of blues and blacks, Erik is typically seen in a fitted t-shirt and well-worn jeans topped with an undone button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As Jack of all Blades, his current costume consists of a knee-length, royal blue greatcoat cut in a jaunty, high-collared style and worn open over a black body suit. A matching blue bandana serves as a mask, attached to a black wig of wavy hair which helps to conceal Erik's true identity. Dark grey boots with a slightly metallic sheen and broad, buckled belts help to break up the outfit's dark colour scheme. Power Description: Erik can manipulate electromagnetic and mystical energies to form an effectively-solid construct in the shape of a sword. While he has a bit of leeway with regards to the weapon's specific appearance, he almost always uses a fencing rapier. Functioning in most respects as a normal sword, the tight concentration of power allows the blade to pierce most defenses, while it retains the basic nature of its source energy. In order for Erik to form a sword, there must be a power source for him to draw from. A sword of flame might be drawn from a butane lighter, an electrical blade from a nearby powerline. More exotic energies require a more exotic source; Erik may draw from a blaster's light beam or a magic user's mystical attacks, neither of which would be accessible to him in their ambient forms. Erik's metamagi powers also grant him awareness of all manner of energies. This sixth sense registers in a sometimes disorienting, synesthesia-like manner with each distinct energy having its own whispered textures and aromatic hues, not all of them pleasant. History: Erik was born in 1988 to Gina Espadas, a Freedom City beat cop. His father left months before Erik's sister, Eliza, was born in 1993. Erik never considered this any great loss: growing up in the West End, his mother was all the parent he ever needed, always making time for her children despite her demanding career. She returned to the force from maternity leave just in time for the Terminus Invasion. Her stories of working alongside heroes during both the Invasion and its aftermath instilled in Erik a fascination with superheroes. As he grew, it was the witty Golden Age tricksters like Spitfire Jones and la Renard Rogue who captured his attention, facing impossible odds with skill and style. A diet of swashbuckling movies and pulp novels were eventually replaced by physical pursuits in his teen years. Naturally agile, Erik joined his school's gymnastic and fencing teams, as well as the drama club, becoming a popular athletic star. It was Erik's senior year which would radically alter his life. An armed robbery at a local convenience store went horribly wrong, and Gina was shot and paralyzed from the waist down, forcing her into a wheelchair and early retirement. Although she remained strong in the face of adversity, Erik was galvanized. The Espadas family had never been very well off, and Erik dropped out of extracurriculars to work an unsteady stream of odd jobs to help make ends meet. He turned down a number of modest athletic scholarships when he graduated to work full time, determined to support the family and save enough to put the more scholastically inclined Ellie through university. One such odd job involved cleaning out the storage area of an antique store. Amidst the ornate lamps and jewelry boxes, Erik discovered what appeared to be a positively ancient playing card: the Jack of Swords, depicting a slyly winking prince. When he asked the store's owner about it, the old man bid him keep it as a souvenir, as the rest of the deck had long since been lost or destroyed. Pocketing the weathered card, Erik made his way home. Along the way, he encountered a group of toughs menacing a young woman. As the leader of the gang pulled out a cigarette and arrogantly flicked open his lighter, an incensed Erik leapt forward. The lighter's tiny flame flared brilliantly, flowing unnaturally through the air to the young man's instinctively outstretched hand, where it solidified into a blazing rapier. A moment later half of the thug's cigarette had been seared away, the other half smouldering in his trembling lips. The toughs beat a hasty retreat, with a shocked Erik quickly following suit, leaving behind a grateful but confused young woman. Experimenting in secret, Erik found he could create swords not only of flame, but of sparking electricity, crackling cold and a multitude of other energies, provided that there was a source to draw upon. Redoubling his abandoned training, he donned the garb of Jack of all Blades, and became the wise-cracking, acrobatic protector of his community. For years the only person aware of his double life was his sister Ellie, who discovered Erik collapsed in their backyard after a particularly brutal fight. Fortunately the teen had begun preparing to study medicine after high school, and her first aid skill likely saved her brother's life. With the safety of his family paramount, Erik kept his identity a closely held secret, initially avoiding alliances with other heroes. As Jack, however, he soon drew the interest of the similarly themed Jaci O'Cups, Coinpurse Jack and most dangerously Jakken Staff, all of whom attacked Erik on sight, making cryptic references to a Tournament of Suits and giving the young hero his first hints at his true origins and the mysterious House of Swords. Eventually this tournament came to a head with the reappearance of Erik's father, revealed to be the previous Jack of Swords, and a massive assault orchestrated by Jakken Staff and the House of Staves. In the aftermath, Coinpurse Jack lay dead, the mages of the House of Staves were defeated and Ellie's own latent metamagi powers had been awakened. As Jack of all Blades, Erik was a founding member of the experimental team, the Interceptors. Personality conflicts and a constantly shifting roster plagued the team from its inception, and just as Erik felt he had found a group he was able to trust with his secrets betrayal and catastrophe rocked the team to its foundations. From those ashes Erik emerged as the leader of a new team of Interceptors, a family of heroes dedicated to protecting the streets. Settling into the unexpected role of responsibility, Erik opened the Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship in the West End both as a place to teach the community's young people the skills to defend themselves and as the Interceptors secret headquarters. A romance with the immortal guardian Willow gave rise to a daughter, Eden Espadas, and eventually marriage and a second daughter, Mia. Personality & Motivation: Erik is a man who's words and actions are at odds. Outwardly, he seems easy-going and carefree, with a clever tongue and a love of the spotlight. Most conversations become friendly verbal sparing matches as Erik actively avoids serious topics, and marriage has only barely dulled his reputation as an incorrigible flirt. What isn't immediately obvious is Erik's deep sense of responsibility to his family, friends and community. Considering his word to be his bond, Erik will always be there for a friend in need, and truly wishes to leave the world a better place than he found it. He possesses an unbreakable spirit coupled with stubborn pride, resulting in a complete inability to admit defeat. Where Jack of all Blades was at first an outlet for Erik, the two sides of his personality have found some balance as he has matured. Although often swept up in the high adventure of larger threats, he considers himself first and foremost a defender of the little guy, stopping crimes that might seem trivial for such an established hero. Remembering what happened to his mother, Erik feels that a simple hold-up can be just as devastating as a supervillian's rampage. Well known by both the public and the hero community and generally well liked thanks to his levity and charm, Jack's sense of humour has been known to inspire annoyance in equal measure. Whether it's leaping headlong into the battle against villainy, making egregious puns while dodging bullets or kissing a cosmic menace to save humanity, Jack of all Blades never fails to leave an impression. Powers & Tactics: Surpassing even his notable lineage, Erik is potentially the world's greatest living swordsman, ranking among history's most notable weapons masters. An accomplished hand-to-hand fighter, with a sword in his hands he is nearly unmatched. His metamagi senses bolster his awareness of his weightless blades and surroundings, giving him a further edge. Even so he is quite human in his frailties and relies entirely on acrobatic evasion to survive. Against lesser threats, Erik rushes in dramatically, forming a sword and quickly disarming them before taunting them into surrender or retreat. When fighting superhumans, he prefers a more reactionary approach, keeping them off balance with acrobatics and jibes until he can assess their specific abilities, often taking the opportunity to form a sword using the energy from their attacks. Preferring to lead from the fore, Erik would rather place himself in harm's way than his teammates but respects their abilities and directs them decisively. Serving as a rallying point and ample distraction he remains almost incapable of considering retreat as an option. Complications: Enemies: Erik has made a habit of not only defeating villains but more dangerously humiliating them. Grandstanding: Erik's style revolves around showing off, in and out of combat, even when discretion might be wiser. Relationship: Erik is married to Minerva Espadas née Salix, AKA Guardian Willow. They have two daughters together. Secret: Superhero Identity Sidekick: Erik's no less protective of his sister now that she's an accomplished superhero too. Struggling: Erik is a small business owner supporting his growing family. Sucker for a Pretty Face: Erik is married, not dead. He can still be distracted by attractive women, be they bystanders, fellow heroes or even villains. Teacher: Erik operates the Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship and feels a responsibility toward his students. Teammates: Interceptors past and present are family to Erik, whether or not he openly admits it. West Ender The West End is Erik's 'turf'; he's extremely protective of his neighbourhood, and knows it much better than the rest of the city. Abilities: 6 + 10 + 8 + 2 + 8 + 14 = 48PP Strength: 16 (+3) Dexterity: 20 (+5) Constitution: 18 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 18 (+4) Charisma: 24 (+7) Combat: 14 + 36 = 40PP Initiative: +9 Attack: +7 Base, +14 Melee, +20 Swords Grapple: +19 Defense: +18 (+18 Base), +9 Flat-Footed Knockback: -4/-2 Saving Throws: 6 + 10 + 8 = 24PP Toughness: +8 (+4 Con, +4 Defensive Roll) Fortitude: +10 (+4 Con, +6) Reflex: +15 (+5 Dex, +10) Will: +10 (+2 Wis, +8) Skills: 84R = 21PP Acrobatics 10 (+15) Skill Mastery Bluff 18 (+24) Skill Mastery Climb 5 (+10) Gather Information 8 (+15) Knowledge (Streetwise) 14 (+15) Knowledge (Tactics) 4 (+5) Language 3 (Cantonese, English [Native], Persian, Spanish) Notice 11 (+15) Skill Mastery Stealth 10 (+15) Skill Mastery Survival 1 (+5) Feats: 72PP Agile Climber Attack Focus (Melee) 7 Attack Specialization (Swords) 3 Beginner's Luck Defensive Roll 2 Elusive Target Equipment 0 + 4 (Veteran Reward, 20EP) Evasion 2 Fascinate (Bluff) Fearless Grappling Finesse Improved Critical (Swords, 18-20) Improved Initiative Inspire 5 Jack-of-all-Trades Luck 4 Move-By Action Power Attack Quick Change Set Up Sidekick 29 + 11 (Veteran Reward, 200PP) Skill Mastery 1 (Acrobatics, Bluff, Notice, Stealth) Takedown Attack 2 Taunt Ultimate Will Uncanny Dodge 2 (Mental, Visual) Equipment: 4PP = 20EP Grappling Hook; Leaping 2, Super-Movement 2 (slow fall, swinging), Speed 2 [8EP] Interceptors Communicator; Communication 6 (Radio, 20 miles; Extra: Area; Flaw: Limited [Other Interceptors Communicators]), Super-Senses 1 (Radio, Communication Link [HQ/VINCE]) [7EP] 5EP contributed to The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship Powers: 29 + 22 + 2 = 53PP Damage 3 (Extras: Autofire 6, Linked [+0], Penetrating 4; Power Feats: Improved Critical [18-20], Mighty, Variable Descriptor 2 [Any Available, Concentrated Energy or Magic]) + Drain Toughness 6 (Extras: Affects Objects) [29PP] (energy sword) Super-Senses 14 (Mental; EM Spectrum Awareness [3], Magic Awareness [3], Extras: Accurate 4, Acute 2, Radius 2)[14PP] (metamagi senses) Swordsmanship Supremacy 1 (Probability Control, Flaws: Limited 2 [Swordsmanship]) [2PP] (training) DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC18 Toughness (Staged) Damage Energy Sword Touch DC16 Fortitude (Staged) Drain Toughness DC21 [Autofire] Toughness (Staged) Damage Totals: Abilities 48 + Combat 40 + Saves 24 + Skills 21 + Feats 72 + Powers 45 = 250/250 Power Points Note: Jack is technically PL15 with a full, five point Attack and Defense trade-off. His Defense and Toughness are capped to place him at PL13 defensively, while his Damage is intentionally under-capped so that his Attack and damage bonuses average out to PL13 as well, even though +20 attack in only achievable by PL15 characters. Note: As a metamagi, Erik's powers are the result of a mystically enhanced mutation, blurring the line between genetics and sorcery. This enhancement specifically allows him to form his borrowed energy into swords. Magic nullification removes the 'sword' descriptor from his 'energy sword' power, which means he will no longer benefit from his Attack Specialization or Improved Critical feats. Effects that nullify mutant/genetic powers shut off said power entirely, as well as his Super-Senses.

Fairy Tale, warning, Unapproved NPC still in the works. Otherwise, the build for Military Fairy from AA oddballs will be used as minions for this thread.

GM May 19th, 6:37pm News had been slow to travel, but it didn't matter, there was still time. The prey was shopping, moving around the mortals like she was one of them. Didn't matter, she could move as she pleased, however, that ritual was unacceptable. Not that she'd get to do it anyway. It was not hard to do, child's play really, something easy to replicate, simple magic. The hunter let the illusion was over him, into that of a young man, not much older than sixteen with jeans and a U2 t-shirt. Leaning out of the ally, he watched as she came into sight. The bag's strap snapped with easy, and it was a quick trip to sprint past her and down back into the alley.

The senses-shattering conclusion to the Evil!Dok saga! For now, just the six Interceptors -- Colt, Dynamo, Fulcrum, Grim, Jack and Jill -- should post. (They'll find the inside of the house empty, as by now Scarab's already warnedAvenger & Phantom of what's going on.) Others can come in by invite, and other threads may be spun off from this one as needed.

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Terrible Bosses and News. In one of the darker corners of the historic waterfront of North Bay lay a spooky old house, complete with a graveyard off to the side: the home of Jack and Taylor Faretti. In the middle of the seldom-used street which ran by it, a pinpoint of blue-grey light appeared, which exploded into a great sphere. Out of this strode a grim figure in black and blood red armor, followed closely by six figures of equally dark, though very familiar, mien (one notably taller than the others). "Come along, Auffängers!," ArchEvil commanded. "This Doktor has a housecall to make!" ArchEvil stopped mid-step. "Auffängers," he said between gritted teeth, "secure the perimeter... and find the witch, the vampire, and their abomination of a child!"

Date: July 13th 2011 It had been two months to the day that Willow and Thrude had joined the Interceptors and moved into the brownstone apartment building. At least the goddess of thunder and lightning had moved in immediately; once the novelty of being indoors had worn off, it had haven some convincing to get Willow to actually use the room she'd been provided with rather than sleeping in the oak tree in their backyard. Even so, it was in those branches that she could often be found, and so it was there that the fencer known as Jack of all Blades went looking, dressed in simple civilian attire as he stepped out the back door. "Hey, pretty lady," he called, sauntering into the summer sun, "you around?"

It had taken a while, given the hectic schedules involved, but with her brother's insistence, Ellie Espadas had finally managed to find time for her girlfriend to come over to the Interceptor's underground base for a combat training session. Erik was adamant that Mara have at least some fundamental hand-to-hand fighting skills just in case she was ever caught without her inventions. Mildly annoying as the overprotective streak was, Ellie was grateful that her older sibling evidently liked her partner enough to be concerned in the first place, and if in the process the petite engineer ended up in sweaty workout gear, well, that was just a consequence they'd have to live with. While Erik got things set up below, the younger Espadas waited on the steps outside the brownstone apartment building's front door, already changed into shorts and a dark grey vest top and enjoying the sun while she flipped through a textbook she'd brought out with her.

Alright, tell you what, get Initiative up for Mara. I'm going to be using the PL1 Criminal minion from the Core Rulebook for the robots. They won;t be doing any real damage, goal is to tag each of them once before she gets hit three times herself. Training Drones: Initiative. (1d20+2=12)

I cannot especially be bothered playing out phone conversations ( ), so just have the guys appear at Siobhan's apartment door.

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Revelations The Brownstone! Home to the Interceptors! Dynamo, Fulcrum, Jack of all Blades, and Jill O'Cure, plus newer members Geckoman, Thrude, and Willow, were in the basement training hall, joined by former members Colt and Grimalkin, who had stopped by to pick up some forgotten items and were roped into the exercise by Jack. Some blocks away, a new potential recruit, Ferros, approached, having been told by Archeville himself -- secretly the founder of the fabled team! -- to come by for a tryout with them. ArchEvil appeared in the basement of the Interceptors' Brownstone, next to Vince's computer core. "Hey, boss-man, the gregarious AI's upbeat voice greeted, appearing in mechanic's overalls on the monitors along the walls. "Whatcha do- yeow! What happened to-" "Attend: Stratus. Nietzsche. Wave. Neper. Tornado. Shark. Venus Flytrap. Viktor. Vince. Viktor." Vince's image froze, the eyes went fuzzy, then his entire form flickered as the long-buried overrides were activated and hidden subroutines booted up. Now the AI was dressed in a very crisp, black uniform, with hobnailed jackboots and a leather trenchcoat. "I obey, Herr Doktor," he said, all trace of his jovial nature gone with the click of the back of his heels. "As shall you all, Vince. As shall you all." ArchEvil walked out of computer core chamber and towards the training room, as a hunchback!Vince began pulling on virtual cords, locking down the Brownstone. He entered the training room, using his Belt's intangibility function to simply bypass the door, so as not to interrupt their session. Eventually, of course, the Interceptors did notice the strange bare-chested fish-man in a labcoat and khakis standing in their danger room.

The continuing saga of Evil!Archeville!

June 1st, noon The figure cut casually up the street, clad in plain blue jeans and a battered brown leather jacket. He whistled merrily as he sauntered along, hands in his pockets. His face was covered with a big baseball cap, a faded green colour. When he got to his destination, the figure casually sauntered up the staircase, and pulled out a letter from his pocket, detailing the specifications of his employment. And, with a wide grin, knowing he was about to annoy some certain people, he pulled a pair of orange goggles up from where they hung at his neck and up around his eyes. And then hammered 'shave and a haircut' on the door.

As day gave way to night a light rain began to fall, a gentle drizzle that filtered its way down through the canopy of a tall oak to its lower branches. There sat a copper skinned woman with a wild mane of long flowing white hair and a long shapely leg dangling below the bough. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back; a faint smile on her face that would gave the impression that she was enjoying herself in spite of the rain. Willow was humming quietly to herself, an old tune she had heard numerous times in her life. The words always changed with the passing of centuries, but the melody always remained the same. The gentle reminder that all things change, but nothing is truly lost giving her some measure of comfort

After long years of negotiations, UtiliTek, a proud subsidiary of the Grant Conglomerates, had been granted permission to bring Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, the legendary Grasscutter, from Japan to the United States for analysis in their Freedom City-based facilities. Part of the Imperial Regalia, the longsword had surfaced a handful of times in more recent history as the focus of various supervillainous plans and at least once as the instrument by which a particularly close near-apocalypse had been averted. It's impossibly shard edge had garnered it a reputation as perhaps the finest example of its kind ever forged, and piqued the interest of a variety of groups. UtiliTek hoped to discover the process through which simple steel could be made cut diamond, to be applied in any number of industrial capacities. The Japanese government had not surprisingly been reluctant to agree to the loan, and Grasscutter's arrival in Freedom was nothing short of the publicity coup for the company. As such, before the test were conducted, the blade was being put on display to the general public for one weekend along with an extensive collection of other cultural artifacts on the ground floor of the UtiliTek head office in Hanover. Amid the crowds of viewers was Erik Espadas, a young man from the city's West End with a particular interest in all things related to swords and their use. Wearing a wool lined brown jacket against the February cold and with a knapsack slung over one shoulder, the fencer studied Grasscutter from the other side of red velvet ropes and a glass case. Hm. Doesn't feel magic... at least, I don't think so, he mused to himself, extended his metamagi senses outward with a faint frown. I should really practice this stuff more.

Ellie Espadas paced nervously back and forth in the foyer of her family's modest home, tugging absently at the bottom of her vintage vest as she made a conscious effort not to look at the clock hanging nearby. Failing miserably, she noted with some irritation that the hands hadn't moved perceptibly from the position they'd been at when she'd checked moments earlier. "You're going to dig a rut in the linoleum, hermaita," her brother noted dryly as he stepped downstairs. Erik Espadas had donned one of his nicer dress shirts at his sibling's insistence, though he'd left the collar unbuttoned. Perhaps more telling, however, was that he'd taken time to shave without being asked. Stopping in her tracks, Ellie turned to give him a baleful look before sighing. "I just want this to go well, okay?" she told him with an emphatic gesture that gave way to running her fingers through her hair. "It's important." "Worried we'll embarrass you, dear?" Gina Espadas asked her daughter, raising an eyebrow as she wheeled herself out of the first floor bedroom, tilting her head slightly to one side with a faint, amused smile. "Yes, exactly!" the youngest member of the family answered immediately, throwing her hands up in the air.

In the night sky above Freedom City’s West End, a swift figure in royal blue leapt gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, racing through shadows only to reappear suddenly in the space over alleyways, flipping and tumbling like an acrobat. The swashbuckling swordsman known as Jack of all Blades knew every brick and stone of his neighbourhood so completely that he barely had to look where he was going. And that’s why nobody in their right mind causes trouble on my turf. Which made it all the more surprising when, at the apex of a gratuitously showy aerial tumble, the air seemed to rend itself before him, opening into a wormhole rift through which the flailing vigilante fell! "Gah! I swear if I end up in some Medieval Times knock off one more time..." Jack grated as he fell through warped space uncontrollably, only to suddenly be ejected back out into the night. Now, however, the city around him was well lit my neon light as he reflexively shot off his grappling line and swung down to the street. Looking about, he found that the buildings around him had sprung up into monstrosities several times the size they’d been moments ago. There was no mistaking that it was still the West End; he still recognised a handful on landmarks that had been incorporated into the unchecked urban sprawl, which seemed old enough now to look dingy and in disrepair. "Kansas, Toto, so on and so forth," Jack muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. As the hero attempted to get his bearings, high pitched cackling drew his attention. Out of the alley, a quintet of youths in gaudy, shredded clothes emerged, displaying a menacing mix of oversized cybernetic enhancements and predatory animalistic qualities. "Looks like somebody got lost on the way to the costume party," the group’s jackal faced leader snickered, brandishing foot long metal claws as his gang surrounded their quarry. "Looks like you got lost on your way to the hospital, twip," a bold voice called from above a moment before a young black man in a leather jacket swung down to deliver a haymaker punch to the gang leader’s face, sending him reeling. "How ‘bout I draw you a map?" the new arrival grinned, gleaming white smile contrasting with the spade shaped tattoo over his left eye. "It’s a Fifty-Two!" a thug with mechanical wings cried, attempting to lift off into the air a moment before a willowy girl with shock white hair slipped from a darkened corner and laid him out with a flurry of blows from her metallic bo staff. What first appeared to be red tear drops inscribed under her right eye were, on closer inspection, a trio of diamonds arranged in a horizontal line. A motorcycle -like vehicle that floated well off of the ground roared onto the scene, it’s smirking driver bringing it to a sharp halt in front of the remaining cyborgs. "Ain’t you ever heard of a pocket pair?" he quipped with a distinct twang, patting a stylised set of hearts painted on the side of his ride while the amazonian blonde riding behind him trained an arrow notched in her composite bow on the suddenly outnumbered aggressors. Pulling the bowstring back with muscular ease revealed a club shaped cut-out in her top, made somewhat less alluring by the grim set of her tanned lips. Sensing that they were well and truly outmatched the remaining would-be muggers gathered up their downed friends and beat a hasty retreat back down the alley. A bemused Jack was left to regard his new-found saviours with an arched brow. "Pretty slick moves, there. Thanks." "Heh, no sweat," the jacketed youth assured the swordsman, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "S’like the old man always says: nobody in their right mind causes trouble on the Fifty-Twos’ turf." "The police may be too afraid to venture here," the brooding archer intoned with more than a little heated anger, "but the West Quarter is not without defenders." "Or good taste," her red haired companion chimed in. "I mean, lordy, splicin’ and ‘borgin’? 2040 called, they want their feeb back!" The joke drew an amused giggle from the otherwise silent martial artist who had hopped up to balance impossibly in a crouch on the top of her staff. "...right." Before the conversation could continue, another rippling portal opened up in the middle of the empty street. "Whoa, think that’s my ride, folks," the swordsman observed, calling over his shoulder as he ran toward the rift and jumped in. "Keep up the good work!"

December 23, 2010 It's a cold and dreary day in late December, at least here in the Northern Hemisphere where most people live. It's no better in Freedom City, where a heavy snowfall last night has transformed into dirty ice and slush by the unaesthetic mechanics of life in a major urban area. It's a good day to be inside with a strong cup of hot cocoa or eggnog, letting ceremonial libations shake away the incipient holiday blues. Luckily this is generally a quiet time for superheroes: most supercriminals are people too, and even the ones without Christmas cheer have been socked away at home thanks to the lousy weather. You need a good reason to be out tonight, whether it's carrying out the duties of a government agent's patrol, hunting for last-minute Christmas presents, or else dealing with problems that have nothing to do with the season. - "Growing tired of these lies," said Avenger, leering malevolently down at the snitch he'd cornered in the Fens back alley. There were new heroes active in the Fens, he knew, but these were _his_ streets, and he was possessive enough, and secretive enough, that he preferred to keep his own council even when dealing with notorious criminals. "Christmas will be difficult in prison. Worse in prison hospital." He grabbed the frightened man by the collar and jacked him up against the wall with one hand, a murderous look in his eyes. "Where's the shipment?" "Oh God, don't hurt me, please!" Mondale Tommahan whimpered, still wearing the shattered sunglasses that Avenger had broken on his face and then neatly put back there after dragging him away for interrogation. He'd heard all about the notorious vigilante, about his brutality and uncompromising violence, and watching him tear through his friends in the Irish mob in their favorite bar that evening had certainly put the fear of Avenger into him. "Look, the X-Ray stuff was just a joke, man? What kind of scuzzball would take naked pictures of Lady Liberty-" "A SCUZZBALL LIKE YOU!" Damn, Jack loved the look in their eye when he _yelled_. "Already know you inside. Time to show you!" He went for the machete on the wall, the one that usually had them wetting themselves before his hands were on the blade, but his nighttime exertions were suddenly interrupted as a brilliant white light shone on the wall in a pattern of brilliant hexagons!

10 am, September 21, 2010 Interceptors' Brownstone, West End "Everyone is looking forward to meeting you," said Mona as she and Erin landed, "Even Jack. Well, here she is: the Brownstone." Sweeping one arm wide, she indicated...a large three story house on a tree-lined street. "Really beauty isn't she?" she added while heading up to the front door. She hoped everyone was available. Yes, officially this visit was for a tour, but frankly a base was only as awesome as the team that dwelt therein. She wanted to provide the full tour! Not to mention she didn't know the nuances of the place as well as the long-time residents. Grim, Colt or Jack, on the other hand, were the go-to people for the full package tour. Not to mention the decor was their handiwork. Opening the right side doors, she motioned Erin inside and peeked around, "Anyone home?" The entrance opened into a perpendicular hallway running the length of the house. Just ahead, the archway to a large living room loomed, and on right, another hallway, stairs and a large, open room.

The Freedom City Medical Center was seen as a safe haven to many before the announcement earlier today. Its staff was measured in the thousands and had state of the art medical equipment; there was no where in the world where you could get better attention. As violence swept the streets, the hospital was soon filled to the point of breaking. Now if Atlas's threat comes to pass, the hospital could very well turn into a feeding ground with a death toll measured in the thousands.

Erik Espadas tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt as his sister helped their mother wheel herself off of the bus and onto the sidewalk. "Is this really necessary?" he grumbled as the trio started off toward St. Stephens. "What, running around in tights makes you too good to go to church with your mother?" Gina Espadas countered from her wheelchair. A dark haired woman in her mid forties, she's made a point of maintaining her athletic build regardless of early retirement. Though her features weren't quite so angular as those of her two children, it was clear where they had inherited their mannerisms. Her son winced. "Jeez, Mamá, trying to keep somebody out of the loop on that, y'know?" The young swordsman was still adjusting to the new situation with his family and secret identity as Jack of all Blades. "Nobody's around to hear," Ellie countered, stifling a yawn and absently smoothing a crease in her black pants. "Everyone else is asleep at this hour." With her hair cut shorter and dyed dark, the resemblance to her mother was considerably more pronounced. "You'll live, dear," Gina opined wryly, easily rolling herself up the church's ramp. "Late nights," Erik stated, holding the broad door open for the ladies. "One more reason to rethink this 'sidekick' thing, hermanita." Ellie responded with a snort as the family entered the building. "That's 'partner', hotshot."

9:45 pm, March 12, 2010 The pops of pistol fire echoed over police band. "Requesting immediate support on Erin Drive! We are under attack by multiple unknown assailants!" More shots rang out, followed by a high-pitched squeal of pain. "Plants! The damn pl..." The channel went dead. "Rodriguez! Officer down!" Heavy breathing and running footsteps. "Officer down! Need EMS at..." A strange, wet splat echoed in the microphone. Silence. "Units 14 and 15, situation report. Officer Rodriguez, Officer Johns, please respond." All units be advised. Officers down. Shots fired in the vicinity of 315 Erin Drive, Lantern Hill. Units A14 and A15 on scene. Suspected meta-human activity. EMS, Fire and STAR en route. ---- Minutes earlier... A green meteor streaked across the misty skies of Freedom City. Long and needle-like, the falling star cut through the rain and twinkled as it neared the horizon. With a burst of green light, one thin, green line broke into five, showering Wharton Forest and northwestern Freedom City. The winds whipped up in protest. Deep in the heart of Wharton Forest, a small, twisted tree stirred. Leaves sprouted and the trunk bent to look at the sky. Glowing yellow eyes shined from deep within the foliage. A low rumble emanated from the branches themselves. Those of telepathic persuasion felt a dark signal creeping from the forest. My children, the Prophesy is at hand. Bring me the shards of the Green Star. Tonight we shall reclaim the city in the name of the Green!

The swashbuckling hero known as Jack of all Blades rarely patrolled too far outside of the West End, but with the slow expansion of what he viewed as his personal protectorate, he found himself swinging through the more developed parts of Freedom City with increasing regularity. The brilliant blue summer skies had drawn him toward Liberty Park and its surrounding condominiums. Flipping through the air as he released his grapple line from one building and launched it immediately to the next, his acrobatics took him over the heads of the citizens below, royal blue greatcoat flapping behind him, and a fierce grin of sheer athletic joy fastened to his face.