| Identity |
Luke O'Brian – Plastic Man

| Origin & Backstory |
Luke grew up the only child of Charles O'Brian and his wife Cheryl, Charles being the extremely wealthy owner of O'Brian Chemical Inc. One of the top chemical producing companies in the world. Luke's parents stayed together until he was six, when they broke up in a very ugly divorce that saw Luke's father get complete custody.

Growing up Luke had a very privileged, but sheltered life, he never went to any school that wasn't high class and private. Leaving Luke with plenty of money but not many friends, and his father getting onto him for it constantly. One day as Luke was at his dad's main factory. The factory came under attack in a terrorist attack. Luke was held hostage until a stray shot hit him in the shoulder. Causing him to falling over the railing and into a vat of chemicals.

When Luke's father found out what had happened, he came to an ingenious idea, after chastising Luke heavily for letting himself get into danger. For the next year Charles did everything he could to train his son to become a superhero, having Luke train in all sorts of different fighting styles, and with any elastic heroes he could pay. Finally having a very high quality suit made that would work with Luke's powers perfectly.

When Charles debuted his son to the public, Luke ended up having a panic attack during the public ceremony. Hyperventilating enough that he ended up inflating himself big enough to knock everyone off the platform. Sadly things never got better for the young hero. Luke had no confidence in himself, and constantly screwed up. The cops more than once finding a tangled up mess.

As his company's stocks tanked from the horrible publicity. Luke's father finally one night unloaded on Luke. Screaming at him about how he was a failure, and how he ruined everything. Kicked out of the home and disowned by his father. Luke survived miserable on the money he had saved. Although he had saved up plenty to be able to get away from his father when he turned 18, he was still incredibly unprepared for life being a superhero loser with no one to turn to.

| Attributes |
With a completely pliable body Luke can stretch his body in numerous ways only hindered by his imagination. Stretching, forming, shrinking, growing, reforming, inflating, flattening, Luke can perform countless feats. Even able to mold his body into much more complex shapes and forms. Also because of his body's new condition mind control is impossible to do to him, or reading his mind in general.

If Luke turns into anything he will always still show up as his uniform and skin tone. Plus hot and cold temperatures will effect him as well as any high frequency vibrations sent into his body.

| Character Notes |

| Character Goals |
Give me an idea on what you plan on doing with the character in the game.

| Sample Post |
Please post a sample post. It does not have to be overly long, I just want an example of your writing.

| Origin & Backstory |
Victor "Vic" Sage was an investigative reporter in Hub City, a place so corrupt it made Gotham and Bludhaven look good by comparison. After looking into a story on Aristotle Rodor, an idealistic doctor with a revolutionary new treatment for burn victims involving synthetic skin and hair, he decided to use this feature-altering technology to become The Question, a vigilante who can get access to information his civilian alter ego cannot. Together they embarked on a crusade to try and save Hub City from the foulness that plagued it.

2009- The Question debuts and begins a one-man crusade against the corrupt influences of Hub City, working his way through a conspiracy that takes him to the highest echelons and deepest pits of the City.

2010-Unnerved by one man coming so close to bringing the city's darkest secrets into the cold light of day, the current mayor of Hub City Wesley Firmin hires the legendary martial artist and assassin Lady Shiva to kill The Question. Though Shiva beats him to within inches of death, she finds the Man With No Face fascinatingly spirited and decides to spare him. When Sage finishes recovering, Shiva directs him to her old rival Richard Dragon, who trains the question physically, mentally and spiritually.

2012-The Question returns to Hub City and begins an even more vigorous assault on its' corroded foundations and power structures armed with his new skills. Within a few months he has deposed Wesley Firmin and installed the mayor's kind-hearted, incorruptible ex-wife and Vic Sage's former fiancee Myra Firmin as mayor. This is all for naught as Wesley and his criminal contacts move to assassinate Myra, putting her in a coma and plunging the city into chaos.

2013- For over a year, The Question and his allies are only real form of justice in Hub City, fighting the gangs and Wesley Firmin's false government. As The Man With No Face struggles to maintain order, Lady Shiva arrives in Hub City and begins alternately fighting with and training him, seeking to push him to ever more violent extremes to stem the tide of evil that has washed over his city. Finally, Myra Firmin reawakens from her coma causing her ex-husband to once again attempt to silence her. The Question is able to stop the second assassination attempt, but is urged by Shiva to kill all of Hub City's leaders. The two martial artists engage in a fierce duel of both philosophy and fisticuffs with Sage matching Shiva blow-for-blow and successfully defending his beliefs. None of this matters however, as rioting has already begun to tear the city apart as the last vestiges of society in Hub City collapse. The Question faces death at the hands of a mob headed by gangsters he had previously thwarted but is saved by the sudden arrival of Richard Dragon. As the city burns around them and the national guard is called in to place it under martial law, Sage's mentor evacuates The Question and his allies via helicopter. Myra Firmin refuses and stays on to try and rebuild the city.

2014- After some serious soul-searching and without a home to go back to, The Question begins to wander the Earth, aiding others, righting wrongs and eternally searching for the answers to all of his questions.

2015-After the death of Superman, the Question arrives in Metropolis. Fearing the sort of societal collapse that occurred in his own former city and intrigued by the Man of Steel's death, he begins looking for answers.

| Attributes |
Master Martial Artist
The Question is arguably one of the most formidable martial artists on Earth. He has studied under luminaries of the art including Lady Shiva and Richard Dragon, both of whom consider him a worthy student. His immense skill combined with his unique mental perspectives and keen tactical mind make him a surprisingly dangerous combatant in any situation

Brilliant Detective
The Question is a detective allegedly capable of rivaling Batman in terms of investigative prowess. He often connects the dots in ways few other people can match despite his often unorthodox methods and behavior. Along with this he is a master of disguise even without the aid of his Pseudoderm sprays and during his time in Hub City was known to be able to keep up multiple false identities and impersonate others flawlessly.

Pseudoderm technology
The Question's Pseudoderm sprays were initially developed by Aristotle Rodor and intended to serve as instant bandages and aid recovering burn victims regenerate their skin and hair. Applied slightly differently they allow the Question to form his 'faceless' mask instantaneously, with similar products instantly changing his hair color. He has used them not only to form his costume as The Question but also craft highly realistic disguises. Furthermore although not intended for this The Question has also used Pseudoderm Spray to 'web' people up like an adhesive or temporarily blind and/or smother them by covering his enemies' faces in a layer much thicker than his own. The color-change sprays are also how his trademark question-mark calling cards function.

| Sample Post |
Ah, sunny Santa Prisca, glistening pearl of the Caribbean Sea! World-class resort hotels dotted the shoreline of the sleepy little island, so pristine that the only melanin to be found was in the developing tans of rich dilettantes and the face of an occasional staff member around the inevitable ironed-on smile. Here tropical breezes caressed even softer and more pleasantly than the hands of the most exquisitely skilled masseurs and when rain did fall it was like God's own shower, a pleasant steady smattering of bathwater-warm droplets. Yes Santa Prisca was a dream straight out of the heads of beleaguered middle class paper-pushers everywhere and like every dream, one wrong turn and it became a nightmare.

If the tropical resorts and sprawling vacation homes had more than a few things in common with the colonial haciendas of old, well it was because they were built by a new ruling class that were equal to the old in both corruption and hedonistic depravity. If the hurricane damage never showed on the richest resorts and their surroundings, well it was because the drug lords, robber barons and crooked politicians willed it so, a benevolence they apparently forgot to extend to the rest of the island's populace. These huddled masses, heirs to the exploited indios and African slaves that came before them, had three options in life. They could work for the cartels or the government, which unless there was yet another civil war brewing amounted to the same thing. They could work in the glistening palatial hotels, wherein the life expectancy was higher but a smile would be permanently ironed onto their face as some fat capitalist gringo yelled at them about drink orders or got far too handy for anyone's comfort for a tip. Lastly, there was the elusive dream of every bright-eyed little boy and girl not yet locked up in Pena Dura: a job with the Zesti! Soda Company! Yes, Zesti! That fizzy sensation that transcended all nations, was manufactured right in Santa Prisca! Its ultra-secret ingredient, the thing that gave the soda its spicy-sweet and refreshing kick, was found more plentifully in Santa Prisca's jungles than anywhere else in the world! Thanks to that, Zesti! was not only the world's premiere soda, but the premiere employer of Santa Priscans who felt that the Thug Life had indeed not chosen them. It was Zesti! Soda along with the drug cartels and the tourist industry which was the lifeblood of Santa Prisca and it was Zesti! Soda that had Vic Sage chained by his ankles from the ceiling of a dimly lit basement in Santa Prisca as he was beaten with phone-books.

It was something of an oddity, the hero known as The Question thought to himself, as what felt like Almeda through Zambrano collided with his ribcage. In this age of internet directories and Caller ID, one would think that phone-books would have fallen out of production. Yet the impact of what distinctly hurt like Alvarez through Zaragoza against his lumbar disproved such a hypothesis. Unless of course these particularly charming individuals of a jackbooted variety had dusted off some old phone-books especially for the occasion of beating him. He would have thanked them for their consideration, if the pulpy thwack of Aznar through Zamorra into his diaphragm hadn't cut him off into a fit of pained gasping. They had of course been asking him questions as they beat him, but these were rather inconsequential and Vic paid them no mind. The Zesti! Soda Corporation thought he was merely another corporate spy trying to steal their secret ingredient, not that he would ever bother with anything so easily decipherable and mundane. No, he was here in Santa Prisca to gather enough information to destroy Zesti! Soda's hold on the island itself, stop its countless abuses and its private army, that sort of thing. As such he was hardly capable of answering questions as boring as 'Who do you work for?' and 'How much did you pass on to your employers' as they were grunted at him in Spanish, even when his so-called interrogators weren't trying to break his ribs.

Meanwhile, tired from the effort of beating him, the 'brighter' of the two guards set about trying to figure out how to perform a "Zesti! special" on a man with no face. After all, how was he expected to be able to inject a shaken can full of spicy-sweet goodness directly into the sinuses of somebody who apparently didn't have any sinuses? Attempts to remove the 'mask' had proven futile since there was nothing but smooth skin, not that it stopped this brilliant leader from feeling unnerved as their eyeless captive 'stared' at him. Finally, the two guards picked up their phone-books and moved to resume their quest for information. As the first swing began, The Question suddenly pivoted as a strange mist sprayed from his belt directly into the face of the offending thug. The poor fool stumbled back in horror clawing at his own head, his face apparently melted clean off by the spray.

The remaining guard froze in abject terror, and Vic Sage's keen detective senses alerted him to a sudden increase in ammonia and urea in the man's immediate vicinity. The Question would be smiling, if he had a visible mouth.

<<"Now, unchain me or I melt your face off too.">>

The 'brighter' of the pair quickly unwound the chain and unshackled the faceless man's feet as his comrade continued to writhe on the floor, lacking a mouth to scream at his predicament. The Question rose smoothly and casually, showing no sign of the vicious extended beating he'd received. Picking up the phone-book he leafed through it briefly.

"Huh, Aznar through Zamorra after all, published 2014. You learn something new everyday."

Dropping it he advanced on the now scrambling guard, hefting the pre-shaken sweet and spicy can of Zesti! Soda in one gloved hand.

<<"Now, I think it's my turn to ask the questions, and you are going to answer them. First, does this hurt?">>

The question was punctuated by the hiss of an opening soda can...

and the answer was yes.