Marcus Price

44

The mayor of Verthaven as of the last few years. Good at his job when he's not drunk on his ass out of misery. Price has lamented his position since day one, with Verthaven's meta-human population being the cause for a plethora of damages and setbacks that he has had to manage. The gradual increase of collateral repair and NEST operations has turned him from a proud figure of the public into an unkempt mess of a man. But somehow, he has managed to stay in office.

Jesus Christ no.

Anthony Foley

Ant/Metal

Male

45

6 foot 2

260 Lbs

University Row

Anthony is a towering man who in his old age has managed to keep his younger physique with the help of his metahuman powers. He is barrel chested and built 'like a machine' as he puts it. He is dark skinned and his face contains two scars, one above his right eyebrow going diagonally towards his ear and one going horizontally across his nose. His hair is usually shaven to a buzzcut and is a pitch black with streaks of grey being noticable at the sides of his head. He has a trimmed beard that is as black as most of his hair with none of it being grey. Anthony stands at a tall 6 foot 2 and weighs 260 lbs with the weight of the metal within his body weighing him down significantly. Anthony has a strong, square jaw and noticable cheekbones.

Western films
Muscle Cars

-Boxer in his youth
-Military Training
-Can play bass

You can skim over events you'd rather reveal in the IC.

Kiara Foley - Daughter
Grace Foley - Wife(Deceased)

Kiara Foley | Good | Daughter | "The best parts of her mother and me, what else can I say?" |

Super-System

Anthony has the power to turn any part of his body into a type of super strong metal capable of withstanding the impact of a magazine of bullets from a single sub-machine gun and any guns of force below that. Along with this, the metal significantly increases the amount of force Anthony does when he attacks enemies using melee. Anthony also has super strength to a degree, enough to hold up the weight of his entire body turning to metal and a slight bit more.

Any degree of damage or force past the magazine of a submachine gun will still do damage and a degree of force to Anthony. For example, multiple guns or a shotgun blast at point blank will harm Anthony and slow him or even send him to the ground, just to a lesser degree.

The metal slows Anthony to a slight jog when his entire body is encased in it. It also weighs him down significantly and he will surely sink in water if even his forearm is metal. Along with this, he will plummet to the ground from high heights faster if he is metal. Outside of this, if any part of him that isn't metal is harmed or shot it will take the same amount of damage that a normal human would take.

Optional

Optional

Optional

Optional

You can skim over events you'd rather reveal in the IC.

Anthony Foley - Father
Grace Foley - Mother (Deceased)

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(Cerebral (Extra-Sensory), Super-System (Animal, Biological), Elemental (Energy, Cosmic), Power, or Other

Depending on the power, this may be optional

Murphy Paddington

King Bee

Male

25

5'11

156 lbs

Las Palamas

Naturally black, dyed white.

green

Scottish and Irish

Murphy looks like someone you would see enjoying themselves in the middle of a mosh pit, He's 5'11 though he doesn't look it because he slouches often. His build is small but slightly muscular, though still considered 'soft'. His pale white skin is contrasted by his piercing green eyes which are always in an unintentional scowl, his white and black hair is usually up in a horizontal curved wave with a white stripe in it, the surrounding hair is white. Many scars cover his body, from small sting marks too long gashes, the most noticeable one is a deep three clawed gash stretching from the bottom of his right eye to his jaw line.

Murphy's attire is always repetitive, usually the same sleeveless red sweater over a black undershirt, Baggy but tied to the waist sweatpants that are pulled up to the mid ankle and tied, his dirty and damaged white sneakers with the tongues sticking out and high black socks and his combat knife in its sheath tied to the outside of those socks.

Murphy is quiet, critical and judging on the inside, on the outside, he still is still a little quiet in unfamiliar areas or people but less critical, usually spouting jokes and having a good time anywhere he is when around friends sometimes being called "life of the party". Unless he's in a fight or on the job, while still having that whip like wit, he is a little more serious, he will be one hundred percent focused on the job at hand, completing/winning it at all costs. Murphy is also a bit of a daredevil taking any challenges that come his way. The words "watch me" usually escape his lips and is ready to do the impossible, which is dangerous, sometimes he ignores his own limits and most of the time his rush to get things done get's people hurt, sometimes innocent people.That being said Murphy doesn't have much room in his mind or heart for strangers.If there was a civilian casualty he would just accept it as a required loss. A friend or colleague on the other hand will be heavy in his mind for a long while, usually blaming himself, taking revenge on the person, place, thing or organization responsible until they are wiped out completely.

Fighting,helping out the family,spending money and killing people of The Pure

Growing up on the street Murphy has developed many Talents such as Street fighting,Lock-picking.But he also has been taught many things by his handler and longtime friend Joey Nabob,things like hacking,how to pickpocket and how to swindle money out of someone by just talking to them.

His red sleeveless Hoodie with a white kangaroo pouch pocket and a plus sign on the back. Don't even look at it wrong.

"Have you met my loyal subjects?. No? well then let me call my Honey's over."

Joey Nabob | Great | Good Magic Family | "Him and the family are the only things I Got right now. I love'em" |

Anthophila Manipulation:When Murphy is around any type of Bee a pheromone is released subconsciously which causes any surrounding Bee's to become confused about who is the one they are to protect, and within a minute or so they decide that Murphy is the Queen. At this point Murphy has connected with any bee(s) on a hive mind frequency with this he can tell them all or just one what to do, though even when they are connected they are like sleeper agents, only coming when they are called and leaving when Murphy wants them too. They can do many things from recon and scouting to attacking a single or group of targets. While unconscious/sleeping if any bee's are still connected he can see through their eyes as they Patrol through the city.

Stinger Protrusion: Murphy can produce two stingers from his palms, if removed, they grow back, like a lizards tail.

Wing manifestation: Murphy can grow bee wings that extend from his inner shoulder blades to the bottom of his bum.

His wings are just like any other limb on his body which get tired after prolonged use. The bees are just Bees. They cannot do complicated tasks on their own, if Murphy wanted them to bring something to them he would need to walk them through it. Murphy is limited when fighting someone one on one, his stingers and flying are the only things that he has when attacking, without his bees he can be quite easy to take down.

Having too many Bee's connected could cause him to overload, Queens could cancel out the liberation ability Via Pheromones.His stingers,while not barbed like a honey bee's are still in danger of being pulled out.If he were to stab a hard or flexible surface they can indeed break/pop out causing a new open wound.

Lucas Valdes

Mr. Valdes, The History Teacher, Luke, 'A/V'

Male

28

183 cm (6 ft)

85 kg (187 lb)

Estella Isle - Bazaar Riviera

Dark brown

Black

Hispanic

Unextravagant would be the perfect word to describe Lucas: average height, more chubby than slim, slightly plump face, with a matching slightly out of shape figure. He has short, naturally-spiked dark brown hair, which he tries to comb but never succeeds. His eyes are big and are guarded by a set of bushy eyebrows, making his forehead look even smaller than it already is. His lips are a paler shade of red and his nose is wide and straight. A slightly wide neck supports his round and stubbled face.

In an effort to look presentable for work, Lucas dresses with buttoned shirts of varying colours, slacks, dressing socks and shoes. He rarely wears a tie, since the dress code does not requires it, but he ties one around his neck for special occasions. On weekends and days-offs, he chooses a more laid-back outfit, combining jeans and shirts and sneakers. His wardrobe is not very extensive, but he makes-do with what he has.

Lucas is a teacher at heart. He pays attention when somebody is talking, he feels the need to explain everything as detailed and thoroughly as possible, and is capable of expressing what he thinks with accuracy. He is not frightened by crowds; if anything, he prefers it. He believes isolation is a good way to make a sane man insane. But he also thinks that a good man is not without its moments of peace; it is all in how you balance. He thinks of himself as a good conflict-solver, even though half the time his meddling are the cause of even more conflict.

Outside the academic life, Lucas likes to stroll around the city, trying to escape his small apartment. Since he has been a resident of the city all of his life, he does not go around sightseeing, but does it for the sake of clearing his thoughts. He also considers watching television as a hobby. He reads a lot due to his work, so from time to time he prefers to relax his brain instead of using it by reading a book.

He has the gift of gab, meaning that he is easy to approach and approaches people easily. Perfect calligraphy and spelling. He took swimming lessons as a child.

None for the moment.

As everyone, Lucas’ life has had his ups and downs. He was born to a family where tradition was strong, where the men became law enforcers or went to the military and women became housewives. And of course, ever since he was little his father always tried to impose that in a subtle manner: he let him play with his badge and cuffs, once resulting in Erica – Lucas’ younger sister – being cuffed to the fridge’s door for two hours; and also took him on rides in the patrol car on his day-off. Meanwhile, his sister Erica learnt how to sew and cook. Everything was going according to plan, at least on the parents’ perspective…

Until Lucas found out that he had powers.

It was after class, and Erica and he were going back to the house. They were both tired and the cold of that winter afternoon was getting to their bones. She was eight and he was twelve. His mother had told him that she could not make it that morning, so Lucas had the responsibility of taking Erica back home safe. He had to hold her hand when they were crossing the street and watch where she was going.

They were nearly there, and Lucas began to feel relieved. On his last birthday, apart from the proper gift, his parents had given him a copy of the house’s key. He used it to open the door and enter. He felt he could finally breathe, but, just when he turned around from closing the door, he noticed that a flower vase had broken and that sharp pieces of glass laid on the floor. His sister had already taken her sneakers off and was casually walking towards it. The words failed to escape his mouth. Instead, he looked at the mirror she was just passing by. And, instantly, a scary figure appeared in it. It scared her sister and himself, and she jumped just in time and noticed the glass on the floor.

Lucas was speechless for the first time in his life. There was no way he could have caused that. Or was it? He told his sister about it and, after exchanges a few brotherly punches, she reluctantly agreed with him that he may be a Meta-human. So from that day onwards, he stopped attending regular school and went to Academy 12 so that he would be able of controlling his projections and not the other way about. His father actually wanted to order the suppression collar, but that was against Lucas’ wishes. He wanted to learn to control it. And that was the moment where the path he wanted and the one his father wanted began to differentiate.

Lucas' father stopped his efforts. Cuffs and badges were no longer given, and the patrol car was now only mentioned on the dinner table. Lucas began to wonder whether his father hated him for what he was. At the academy, Lucas felt the heavy burden of his father's disappointment go away, and also was capable of expressing himself freely. But on the house, there was a clear line between him and the rest of the family. Erica and his mother remained in the background, talking to him when they had to and replying modestly, even with some waryness. Lucas' father was not as considerate, for his silent punishment was more effective than the most hurtful of insults.

Lucas graduated from the educational course of the Academy at eighteen and was at an impasse. He was not sure as to what to study in college. He entertained for a while the idea of joining the police forces, if only to gain some points with his father, but then realized that no matter what he did, the situation would never change. Therefore, he decided to take up a History major in order to become a teacher. Studying was not difficult, difficult would be paying the students loans. But he figured that he would cross that bridge when he got to it.

On his last year of university, he received an invitation to his sister's wedding. She was merely eighteen and he was twenty-two. Her husband-to-be was her high school sweetheart, and they had promised each other to marry once they had graduated. Lucas thought that it was a very childish thing to do, but her sister did not meddle with his life, so he did not meddle on hers. When he attended the ceremony, he could feel it again: his father's unquenchable disapproving gaze. His sister thanked him for coming, and so did her mother.

At the reception, however, an incident happened. One of Lucas' aunt ingested one drink too many and began to spout stuff at him, how he was an abomination and how God will make him pay for his sins. She was saying it for all of the present, maybe barring Erica, but they all thought the same: he was an abomination to them. He left early.

Therefore, he could not leave in his parents' home anymore, so once he earned his degree, he found a job at the local high school and began apartment-hunting. It took him nearly two month to find one that was near his workplace, cheap enough for a teacher's salary, and big enough for one person, but he found it. And so, he established a routine that he follows up until the present day: Wake up, eat, work, eat, watch TV, correct assignments, eat, brush teeth, sleep.

María Valdes – Mother
Erica Valdes – Younger sister
Oscar Valdes – Father
Norbert Colson – Nephew
Ian Colson – Brother-in-law

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Cerebral

Projection

The ability to share a mental image with the physical world. It can be used for data-sharing as well as for illusion-making. The realness of the projection is up to the projector’s proficiency and concentration. It can either be used on a single target or on various, also depending how good the user is with this power. It is possible to project something on inanimate objects to make them seem something they are not.

The projector always must gain eye contact with the target in question. Once they are inside the target’s mind, they only need to focus on them. For a bigger group, however, the user must have in mind the delimitation of the ‘room’ or space he wants to use for their projection. This takes a bigger effort and thus it is much more taxing than using it on a single target.

As mentioned before, the main weakness of this power is that the projector must achieve eye-contact with their target or concentrate on the space they want to project on. This leaves them absolutely defenseless in case of a fight, and mentally exhausted in general. Also, they must have a strong mental fortitude, lest they want their projections to control them instead of the other way about.

”Good morning, class.” Classes began early, at 7 A.M. sharp. The students were not nearly awake at that time. Even though he tried to make them participate and made the lessons fairly dynamic, Lucas just could not get through to this class. They were either on their phones or slumped on their chairs, trying to get as much extra sleep as possible. He could just dismiss them for the day, or he could try. He decided on the latter.

“Come on, today we have to go through Industrial Revolution!” A general groan of protest. “It’s not really that hard, you know? First, you have to know that it started in England,” Lucas turned around to write on the board. He grabbed a marker and began the lesson. Halfway through it, he realized that he still have not got through to them.

“When’s class really going to start?” One of the back row students asked. Lucas knew to what he was referring to.

“This is not A/V class, Masters, this is History.” He stated terminally. More groans.

“Please, Mr. Valdes. We still can’t get over the time when you did it for Pre-History.” Nods of agreement. Reasoning with them was futile. Lucas sighed, defeated.

“Don’t tell the other classes. I can’t be doing this all day.” After each and every one of the students agreed that yes, they will not tell anybody, Lucas focused on the room.

After the following recess and a well-deserved applause, Lucas began the following class. “Okay, we have to go on with-”

“Do we get a projection?” A student asked.

“What? What are you talking about, Ericson?” Those weasels! They could not have…

“But you did it for the previous class! It’s unfair!” Lucas looked dead in the eye at all of the students.

“No.” He also reminded himself to give a pop quiz to the first period class.

Clifford Briley

Frank’s Dog

Male

34

6’4

245.7 lbs

Estella Isle

Black

Blue

Caucasian

Exceedingly tall and muscular. Bald. Face is heavily disfigured due to past explosion-related injury. Image for reference.

Differs depending on current activity. Normally a mix of heavier clothes and combat gear, somewhat inappropriate for the warm weather. Wears a bloodstained bulldog mask during hostile interactions and operations.

Quiet. Normally not seen lounging in any regard. Almost always in Frank’s immediate proximity, awaiting commands. Incapable of speech due to blast injury, communicates through physical gestures and written words. Shares Frank’s disposition of meta-humans. Absolutely ruthless in hostile scenarios. Caution is advised when approaching.

Killing meta-humans.

Vast knowledge of conventional, and some advanced, weaponry, gained mostly from his past time as a NEST agent. Rigorous training and operational experiences have left him with an adaptable and unflinching behavior in combat.

None.

“Hhhhggg.”

Frank’s oldest and dearest friend and companion. Knew him since youth. Enlisted with NEST after an agreement between the two. Served for several years. Incident during an operation left him with a blast injury indirectly caused by a meta-human agent. Agent received a commendation for the ordeal while Clifford quit and joined the Pure, reuniting with Frank. Works alongside him now. Will never leave again.

He won’t… can’t, say.

Franklin St. Jopling | Very Good | Childhood friend, leader | "Hhhhggg." |

N/A

N/A

N/A

N/A

Blast injury left him with minor brain damage, somewhat responsible for his social ineptness and violent nature in combat. Carries a small whiteboard, marker, and cloth with him at all times to communicate when need be.

You may never admit that they’re right but they are.

It’s not natural. It’s not a part of life. It simply isn’t supposed to be. They should not exist. And say otherwise to his face and he will hurt you on his leader’s command. And he will issue that command. He knows best what they are capable of and what needs to be done. NEST will eventually fail because they do not take the final measure. But you see the gangs. The organizations. All this, that is so much worse than what he, and they, have done. You may never admit it, but you don’t have to. He already knows. And he is already doing something about it.

Maybe he will not see the day he dreams of, if he does dream. If he does sleep. But he will make his contributions. He will do what he is told and he will be ridiculed and vilified for it. But he’ll know it’s right. That a world without them, pure and mundane, will be safer. And it will live longer. Beyond him. Beyond all humans.

It would be so much better.

But you may never agree.