Name:Adam Sereno

Nicknames/Aliases:"O Gato Preto" (The Black Cat)

Age:24

Gender:Male

Allegiance:Himself at the moment, wishes to become a saint.

Written Description:Adam has a tattoo on his back of a black cat and a tally of his kills.

Personality:Adam is a man of many words often being the loudest individual in any given room at any given moment. Most people notice when he walks into a room. Another defining about Adam is he is a man of many vices. Women, money, gambling, flashy cars, clothes. He has to not only be the best looking, he has to have the best toys. He is a hopeless womanizer, and has a penchant for being kind to people. (Especially women.) With a troubled past, but one good thing can be said about him is that he knows his friends and he will do anything to protect them from harm.

Backstory:Adam never really knew the place of his birth, or his father. His mother left both Brazil, and his father Maethus. Putting both far behind her for a new life in Independence City. The place was a horrible place to raise a child, but she wanted to get away and didn't have much to land her on her own two feet. So she became a prostitute, She was willing to do anything for her child, to provide for him. At first he never really caught on to his mothers profession the men coming and going, but as he grew older he knew.

This caused him to run away from home, not wanting to be a burden he turned to a life on the streets. Which made him quite the easy target for a cartel, this cartel lured the young boy in with promises of. Money, respect, women, and whatever the hell he wanted. So he joined them, calling him a "soldados" They gave him a gun, and told him his initiation was to kill someone from a rival gang. So he did, his first blood came in the form of not only a rival drug dealer, but also his girlfriend. He showed no remorse, just wanting to be accepted by his new family.

From there the boy, now calling himself a man. Went from kill to kill, it got to the point where there was a disconnect for him when it came to killing. It just became apart of the job, his efficiency earned him the notice of his boss due to not many soldados not having all that high of a survival rate. From that day forward he became "O Gato Preto" Or The Black Cat, because you did not want him crossing your path.

As he grew older. He became even more efficient. Running drugs for his bosses, taking out rival bosses and soldiers, killing police, bribing them, or threatening them or their families to gain compliance. And for this he had whatever he wanted. A nice penthouse, plenty of cash to piss away on whores and gambling, and drugs for any situation he felt like. That changed after he got his powers though, when he found out about them he tried to will them away due to his next big job.

The job was simple, just take some goods him and some other members had stolen from a jewelry store heist, and sell them to their fence. But alas things didn't go as plan, while he slept he heard the door of his penthouse open up. Thinking it was just the prostitute he had over that night leaving, he laid back down in his bed. But then he heard voices and multiple pairs of footsteps. Turns out the girl let in a rival cartel, and they came to kill the man who had become a thorn in their side.

They caught him unaware, they fired through his bedroom door a stray round catching him in the shoulder and that's when he lost control. The fear of death, the pain from the bullet in his shoulder, caused it. He let out a torrent of fire that burnt down the penthouse, damn near burnt down the building. Luckily enough for him he got away from his bedroom windows fire escape. But now assumed dead, and a failure to his cartel. Adam had no home, so he went into hiding. Only to resurface at any mention of the Saints.

Carried Weapons/Items:A 14 thousand dollar Rolex watch, and the clothes on his back.

Superpowers:Fire Manipulation, Adam can manipulate fire often being able to create a flame at any given moment, he has limitations of course, he can't use it when soaking wet, and the fire can be uncontrollable when in a distraught or angry emotional state.

Skills:Gun expert, picking locks, stealing cars, and going to ground when shit hits the fan.

Extra:N/a

Name: Britany Welsh

Nicknames/Aliases: Kinestia

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Allegiance: Herself (for now)

Written Description: Young girl, with blue hair (this came with her power), is most of the time wearing comfortable clothes and does not like to wear makeup. (Her hair is more blue than the photo)

Personality: She's a nice girl, doesn't have many friends but she's okay with that. She isn't a starter in conversations, but she likes the subject someone brought up she'll talk a lot! She likes videogames and she really fascinated with the powers people started manifesting. She wants to make use of her gift to help those in need and has the desire to punish does who do evil with a causa, She like she did in her videogames.

Backstory: She never had many friends while growing up, at least not what people consider friends. She had a lot of online friends that she met in online games and she liked to play with, but not those friends with who she shares secrets, talk about boys or have sleepovers. When her power showed up she was scared of them. They first showed up by accident when she threw her control at a wall after losing a mission in the FPS she was playing. In that episode she didn't threw the control that her a the wall, but when she did a blue-ish aura appeared around it and it got stuck to the wall making an hole in it, the controller stayed intact.

When the story of superpowers started to be known around she got interest in this group of people with powers that were helping society in their own way, they called themselves the Patron Saints. She's now trying to contact the group in hope to join them. Now having her own powers she lost somewhat the interest in her video games because she can be the heroes and villains she use to play.

Carried Weapons/Items: Her laptop.

Superpowers: Kinestia is able to control Kinetic energy. She can either imbue objects with Kinetic energy making them move faster, explode when in contact with other things or absorb kinetic energy. For example, she is able to imbue a small stone with kinetic energy being able to trow it almost as fast as a bullet, and she is able to control if it will piece the thing she is aiming at or explode when it touches the thing she's aiming to. As for the absorption, she can for example reduce the speed of a bullet draining it of it's kinetic energy. The objects she imbues with energy gain an azure aura.

Skills: She is good with video games. Even though she doesn't make use of it, she has some computer hacking skills.

Name: Franz Kessler

Nicknames/Aliases: Kessler/The Kess/The Big Salad

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Allegiance: Himself. Wants to join the Saints.

Written Description: Kessler is tall, at 6'2. He seems to have a slender frame, but he's actually got a decent amount of muscle on him. He's built like a swimmer. In terms of clothes, he is rarely seen without his awesome red jacket. He wears a lot of anime paraphernalia.

Personality: At first blush, Kessler seems like your everyday, normal guy. A little bit arrogant, maybe, but generally good natured. He likes anime, but he won't talk your ear off about it if you're not interested. When you get to know him, though, it becomes clear he has one major problem: He believe he's invincible. That he is destined for true greatness. Luckily, he's a magnanimous god and is willing to share in his destiny.

Backstory: Kessler is just a regular dude who happens to like anime a lot. When he learned about the whole superhero thing, he decided he wanted to get in on the fun. So he put up an ad on craigslist. For 50 dollars he'll be your bodyguard/mercenary/minion.

Carried Weapons/Items:
-Two katanas
-A tactical vest he bought online.
-Knee and elbow pads.
-Some nunchaku.
-Shuriken
-Sickass jacket.
-Radass bike
-Bike helmet. Safety first! It's reinforced enough that it can even stop larger bullets. A sniper rifle would probably go through it, though, and a point blank shot will probably still give him a concussion.

Superpowers: None.

Skills:
-Can use a katana without hurting himself
-A very good motorcyclist.
-Actually in very good shape.
-Tough. Has a very high pain threshold.
-He's a very good singer.
-A good belly dancer too.

Extra: Kessler is unemployed. He makes money through selling marijuana out of his apartment and also has several ads up on cragislist.
Jobs he'll do:
-Male Escort: Kessler will allow you to buy him dinner. He promises to wear a nice suit, be a gentleman, and give you one (1) kiss on the cheek. It is not an offer of prostitution.
-Regular Escort: Kessler will bring his katanas and follow you around. He will protect you from any assailant and also rough up anyone you ask him to. He reserves the right to run away if things get too crazy though.
-Spongebob: Kessler will dress up as SpongeBob for your child's birthday party.
-Elsa: Kessler will dress up as Elsa from Frozen for your child's birthday party. He can sing "Let It Go," "Bohemian Rhapsody," and "Happy Birthday."
-Stripper: Kessler will undress as a stripper for your child's birthday party. If you have a pole for him to pole dance on he'll make good use of it. Otherwise, he's a skilled belly dancer.

Name:
Aro Danius

Nicknames/Aliases:
N/A

Age:
27

Gender:
Female

Allegiance:
None ATM

Personality:
Aro is a think for herself-er. Her actions are directed by the things that will give her something, and she'll do nearly anything for wealth. The only exception being that she won't harm children. Her parents were robbed for everything they had when she was only four, forcing her to live her life in poverty. She's hated con-men ever since she heard the story. She prefers to work alone, but when put in a group, Aro is a natural leader. She will be upset if she doesn't get her way, but won't be upfront about it. She uses her wit and what influence she has to get what she wants, so Aro won't be too upset when it comes to the word, "no."

Backstory:
Aro used to be a spoiled, rich child, that was until a con-man took her family's wealth. Her parents had never been good with money management since they've always had more than enough. So when the day came and they lost everything, they didn't know what to do. They sold what little they had left and moved to Death Row. Before she left on her own, they did everything they could to scrounge up enough to survive. There was even a point in time when, per request of her parents, Aro became a petty thief. She used to hide in the shadows of the night in Corundum, picking the pockets of those who were brave enough to be out past sunrise. Aro is still used to the thieving lifestyle, even though she doesn't need it. After decades of taking from the rich and giving to herself, she always has enough to get by, especially since her parents passing when she was 19. Aro still sticks around Corundum, searching for anything to line her pockets.

Carried Weapons/Items:(if any)
A small hunting knife, a leather satchel full of money, and, of course, her clothes.

Superpowers:(if any)
She has the ability to blend in with her surroundings, but she's never really noticed. Aro always assumed she was just really good at hiding.

Skills:(not necessarily super)
Stealth, impromptu medicine, pickpocketing, agility, and her quick wit.

Extra:
She has a horrible short-term memory and never really knows where anything is. Aro doesn't have a permanent home, mostly because she doesn't think she'll ever find one if she happened to leave the area.

Name: Justin Harken

Nicknames/Aliases: Guardian

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Allegiance: Patron Saints

Written Description: Ask anyone what their first thought was upon seeing Justin and nine times out of ten the answer will be "big." At six and a half feet tall he and his muscles cut an imposing figure. It is somewhat offset however, by the huge smile that seems eternally plastered across his face. With a strong jaw and wide cheekbones that smile can be very big. Above them lies a pair of twinkling blue eyes that, along with his mane of blond hair, hints at a Nordic or Germanic ancestry.

When not on duty at the station house or fighting evil in the streets Justin has a very everyman wardrobe. Lots of jeans and T-shirts, a few nicer clothes, some workout clothes. It depends on the day, really.

Personality: Somewhat larger than life in a figurative as well as literal sense. He deeply believes in the mission of the Saints. A warm heart drives Justin forward in both his day job and his self appointed night job. While an iron clad moral code prevents him from straying from the path of the Guardian. He is friendly to all around him. Trying to get to know the members of his team better whenever he can and draw them closer together.

There are some parts of being a vigilante that bother him however. For one he would much rather be working with the government to clean up the streets. The fact that many of the police force are little better than crooks themselves eats at him. Killing is also a complicated subject. Justin has taken enough lives already. He knows what doing so means. But he also realizes that sometimes it is unavoidable. Sometimes you can't talk the bad guy down. Sometimes you have to put him down.

Backstory: Unsurprisingly Justin was not born in Independence City. Raised in the Pennsylvania countryside he was brought up in a family with a history of service. Military, police, EMTs and firefighters. The boy was taught about standing up for the weak and for what was right. Even when it was hard, especially when it was hard. As might have been expected he got into a lot of fights as a kid because of that. Although he never seemed to lack friends as a result of them.

When he was eighteen Justin joined the Army. Two full four year tours. The first couple years were in noncombat postings at several US bases around the globe. The second two were active combat in the Middle East. He learned a lot in those two years. Killed his first person, lost friends for the first time. Justin finished his first tour changed but not broken. And when he signed up for another four years he also entered Ranger school.

There was no third tour. Eight years in the military was enough for Justin. He wasn't planning on becoming a lifer so he got out. Of course he couldn't just become an office manager or something equally boring after all that. He still wanted to feel like he was part of something, something that was making a difference in the world. So the next step was obviously to become a fireman.

For the past year the ex-Ranger has been part of the Independence City Fire Department. It was a busy time before he got superpowers. Now between his duties as a firefighter, Fire Marshal classes and being the Guardian he is finding downtime a rare commodity.

Carried Weapons/Items: 9mm Glock, (rubber and lead rounds.)

Six inch "pocket" knife and a small boot knife.

Taser.

Kevlar armor vest.

Zipties.

Paracord bracelet.

Superpowers: Justin's ability is a simple one on the surface. He can overwrite, or perhaps reset, a piece of reality back to what he considers normal. Say someone got shot or had a limb hacked off. Most people don't consider that to be normal. So Justin uses his power, the person glows white and is suddenly all healed. It's not limited to people either. Places and things are also free game.

There are costs and limits of course. The larger the target the more energy it takes to reset it. Also he can't wish ordinary human beings out of existence.

Skills: Eight years in the army can teach a guy a few things. Especially on how to break people and their stuff. Justin is highly capable in a variety of methods on putting people on or in the ground. Give him a gun, knives or nothing at all and he can get it done.

He also has a solid knowledge of explosives, mechanics and a passing knowledge of structural engineering. Both from his days needing to know to best way to destroy something and his days as a fireman needing to know how to prevent something from being destroyed.

Extra:

Name: Acheri Solomon

Nicknames/Aliases:

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Allegiance: Patron Saints

Written Description: At 5’6”, Acheri Solomon does not look particularly menacing. She would have to really, really work at it to look anything approaching intimidating, and it still probably wouldn’t work. She’s a little too short, a little too slim, and a little too friendly-looking for that. The smile perpetually adorning her attractively strong face (which only gets wider when she’s around her friends) is as infectious as anything the medical doctors (not that sort of doctorate, Mom) handle, and there is no vaccine. The eyes above that grin are a deep, deep green, with black hair that falls down to her shoulders framing them. Her skin is a little lighter than her mother’s, but her heritage is unmistakable. Another trait she inherited from her mother is a very faint cleft in the chin; though it's barely noticeable, it's another mark of her ancestry.

She generally dresses casually, albeit not messily. Her hair is well kept, and her standard combination of jeans and a shirt always pair at least reasonably well together. Work requires more formal attire, but it is not her preference in off hours.

Personality: Acheri can be simple or very, very complex depending on how deeply you contemplate her motives. She is passionate about her job, a passion that leads her to work long hours performing a role that will only make her enemies. Anything to do with her work holds her attention, and she will engage at length with anyone that can provide a fresh insight or information she hasn’t considered. She is tireless and driven, bordering on implacable once her path is decided. Most people would call this admirable in an Assistant State’s Attorney, but in Independence City… Many see a thorn in their side.

Those are the people who see the flip side of these attributes, the fire that drives her and the steel that sustains her. Her position in Independence City could be a very, very lucrative one for someone with looser morals. A prosecutor, even an assistant one, is a very useful card up one’s sleeve. Corrupt businessmen, cartels, the Mafia and even the police would very much like to have the prosecution in their pocket. In many cases they succeed. Prosecutors in Independence City are notoriously corrupt, or at the very least apathetic. Acheri, on the other hand, performs her duties with the utmost integrity. Bribery won’t sway her, and threats have yet to stop her. Not that the city’s criminal elements haven’t started considering more… Permanent solution. The police find no quarter, either, not even when letting their actions slide might mean putting someone away for life.

There is a right, there is a wrong, and Acheri firmly believes that it is her job (and everyone else’s) to see the difference. And to act on it. That doesn’t simply mean “stare disapprovingly” in Acheri’s world. Bystander syndrome is an abhorrent concept in her eyes, and one she strives to defy every day. If something is wrong she’s damn well going to do something about it. Conviction is critical, even if she can be more than a little outspoken. What’s right is right, even if it’s unpopular. The right thing to do is the right thing to do. This conflicts with her belief in the law on an almost daily basis, especially in Independence City. Vigilantism is illegal, even if she believes it’s the right thing to do. Her desire for due process wars with her perception that due process isn’t getting anywhere.

Still, she has her principles. Vigilantism, despite her reluctance, is a mean to a proper end. It is not an excuse to become the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Murder is murder, and that is a low to which she will not stoop. By no stretch will she shy away from a fight if it is necessary, and her principles by no means blind her to the reality of the city’s inhabitants, but she will avoid lethal force as long as humanly possible.

Outside of her professional and “extracurricular” life, Acheri is a calm person. She’ll save her boundless energy for people she knows will appreciate it, treating most strangers a little distantly albeit politely. She has an abiding love for heroic fiction from all sorts of sources, an affection frequently indulged in on her days off.

Backstory: Acheri Solomon was born to an admittedly eclectic melting pool of a family out in Arizona. Her mother was a Hopi Indian, and made sure she was versed in their culture even if they didn’t live on their land. Her father was an aspiring author with a love for myth and legend, telling her bedtime stories of gods and heroes. This homebrew of Hopi culture, heroic tales from across the globe, and Saturday morning cartoons was bound to instill a belief in heroism.

Most of her childhood, all things considered, was pretty uneventful. The Solomon household didn’t make very much money, but they made enough to get by. Little Acheri grew up reading books and catching her cartoons when they were on public TV on Saturdays, exercising her imagination through these simpler stories than the peers that grew up with nonstop access to Cartoon Network. She was a bright kid, and that love of reading gave her an early edge over classmates that hadn’t really been exposed to literature much before school. That edge only ever really grew, swelling alongside her fascination with the subject material in all of her classes. For the most part, though, her elementary school years were pretty normal. Though her parents had to admit that the occasional phone call because she elected to square off with a would-be-bully herself, rather than get a teacher, were a mild problem. Not really one that they could ever bring themselves to punish her for; technically she never really did anything wrong, and punishing her for standing up for herself was the exact opposite lesson they wanted to teach. So they tried to push her towards asking the teacher for help when she could, explaining sometimes you had to work with the system and that explanation generally cut down on the issues. Not eliminate, but they figured it was the best they were going to get.

The only unexpected thing she ever did was ask to take martial arts lessons. Her parents never really quite figured out why but it was the one thing Acheri was ever really insistent on asking for. It wasn’t really in the family budget… But as tight as it was, and with a little help from her grandparents, they found a way to make it work. She took to them with as much enthusiasm as she ever did her schoolwork, and sought to learn everything she could. By the time she was halfway through her freshman year of high school she was working a part time job to help pay for her own lessons.

Though that wasn’t the only reason for working a job. Her parents redoubled their efforts, both in work and in saving, with college on the horizon but there was a fear that the Solomons wouldn’t be able to pay for it. Acheri wasn’t looking at expensive schools, but her parents were determined that she would be able to go. Every spare penny went into saving, from their jobs and hers, and Acheri threw herself into her schoolwork. If she pursued the career she wanted she would need as many scholarships as she could get. Balancing school, work, and extracurriculars was far, far from easy but Acheri kept herself on top of it.

She was rewarded for her efforts, too. She graduated in the top ten students of her class, bound for school on the east coast with almost a full ride. Her college savings were enough to handle her Bachelor’s degree, as long as she kept up with a job during college, but she was slated for at least three more years even when she finished that. Despite the challenges she loved it. She loved living on campus, the classes she took, and all the new activities campus life offered. Not only could she keep up with what she learned from her old martial arts lessons, there was an even greater variety of styles to learn and explore. And clubs with appreciation for the fiction she enjoyed! Even the more niche things!

Acheri eventually graduated with her J.D. from University of Maryland School of Law, and landed a job as an Assistant State’s Attorney. She actually requested her placement in Independence City, seeing it as the place she could do the most good.

The reality… Has been harsh. Though she hasn’t lost her conviction, the city was in significantly worse shape than she could have expected. Attempts to buy her off began in her first week, threats in her first month, and attempts at blackmail by her third. By the time she’d been there a year she was watching for attempts on her life. It wouldn’t have been the first time the criminal element had done such a thing, and she had gotten on the bad side of all of them.

Gaining powers had not been something she expected, least of all from tap water. Her decision to take up vigilantism was… Complicated, and not without hesitation. It still isn’t. But her commitment to cleaning up the city was real, and if she had been handed powers, wasn’t it her responsibility to use them?

Carried Weapons/Items: The only weapon, per se, that Acheri carries is an expandable steel baton for self defense. The Maglite flashlight she keeps in her car serves a similar, albeit improvised purpose. She also carries a Swiss army knife.

For use with her power, however, she carries a handful of seemingly eclectic items; a paracord bracelet, a few feet of rolled up string, a couple of large Sharpies, and strangely… A collapsible hula hoop.

Superpowers: Acheri has come to call her ability Ward, as it is the best descriptor she can give it. She can create unseen, but solid projections of energy that function primarily as barriers. Simple enough, but she has discovered a few quirks through her experimentation. She has to be able to visualize the boundaries of the construct she is planning to create, and keep that picture fixed in her head. Preparation is a factor as well. A construct she creates on the fly will require constant energy to maintain, lapsing either when she stops supplying energy or stops envisioning it. With time to prepare, however, she can infuse a construct with a given supply of energy that she can add to at any time. Planning ahead becomes a necessity. With an appropriate visual aid she can keep a relatively specific construct easily maintained, or with time to prepare she won’t need to actively maintain it.

As such she tends to group her constructs into Active Wards, and Passive Wards. Active Wards are constructs she creates in the field as needed, using quick reference points or portable aid to create them quickly and efficiently. The more specific the reference point, the easier to maintain though she can work with just about anything. As long as she can keep it pictured in her mind, she can maintain it. Passive Wards are things she prepares ahead of time, and with a fixed amount of energy; for example, her apartment is reinforced with Passive Wards. These constructs have been carefully prepared and are backed by energy pools that she has added to over time, and thus are self sustaining. Passive Constructs aren’t more difficult to make, but they require appropriate preparation for any real permanence. The more often she can spare energy to reinforce them, the longer they’ll last and the more punishment they can take.

Her constructs are invisible to other people unless touched or struck, at which point they will seem to shimmer faintly until contact ceases. Acheri always sees them in this state. They are solid, and while they mostly serve defensive purposes they can be used for utilitarian ones. A thin enough construct could even be used as an impromptu blade, or a thicker one as a bludgeon.

Skills: Skilled martial artist, first and foremost. Quick thinker. Exceptionally well read on matters of law and criminal procedure, as well as generally well-read due to a voracious reading habit. Disturbing caffeine tolerance.

Extra:

Name
Castor Trainwreck Evans

Nicknames/Aliases
Cast

Age
26

Gender
Male

Allegiance
Acheri Solomon

Appearance
While perhaps a little on the big side for a running back (and, at 6'2 and 170 pounds, the big side for any non-athlete), his size and muscular build ensure that not many people dare to start something with Castor. He tends to make even his characteristic blue jeans, white t-shirt, and brown leather jacket look tight-fitting, and his bowlegged swagger almost calls to mind a fighter pilot or a cowboy (which is a fair comparison) instead of the march of a football player. Even if his walk is slightly wide, however, he still carries himself with the grace and confidence of an upperclassman athlete - back straight, chin tilted up slightly, and megawatt grin shining.

His grin is what captures most of the attention on his face; with a golden tan, dark blue eyes and chestnut hair, Cast's smile is usually the only spot of pearl white that can be found on his strong features. His nose looks recast; it's been broken thrice in his lifetime. He's been considering growing a beard to hide a small scar on the right side of his chin, but loses his nerve more often than not. Currently he's grown a long pair of sideburns and shaved most of the rest, so you would only be aware of his facial hair efforts if you were close enough for him to put his chin on your head or against your skin - in which case you would usually feel the faint scratching sensation of a perennial weekend beard, a softer, sandier brown than the hair on his head.

Personality
Cast is an amiable, strapping young buck, not too far off from the stereotype minted by Bonanza, Gunsmoke, or any of the old John Wayne movies. With a smile on his face much of the time, you would be hard-pressed to find a time when he was genuinely in a sour mood or venting his anger at someone. Such occasions of bad temper are reserved for a good fight, where no one holds back on anyone else or cares about their problems, or in the investigations in which he can bury himself or cajole problems out of others. Such an arena is where the cowboy feels most at home.

Having grown up under an unpredictable and untrustworthy father who often traveled, Cast spent a childhood having to make new friends rapidly and losing track of them just as fast. With that in mind, his personality can often seem adaptable to some, as he charms and cajoles people into a friendly relationship with regularity, often with the intention of receiving something in turn. While sincere and open-hearted, he nonetheless has learned not to allow himself to be hurt by people, and is not above shutting himself off to someone he feels may be able to break past his good ol' boy defenses and inflict an emotional blow. This has led to some very bad luck with some very good women, as one can imagine, but it makes him quite the investigator and confidence man.

Backstory
Castor Evans has been from one end of the big wide American landscape to the other in his twenty six years, with a series of tales as colorful as his accent and language. From his birth in the passengers seat of the Chevelle he drives around today (he was prevented from reaching the nearest Texas hospital by a trainwreck, from which he received his middle name) to his two stints in juvenile detention in Denver for lifting classic American muscle cars (he swears he was only up to restoring them), to the past few years he spent in Atlantic City working muscle, the cowboy has a new location and explanation for every phase of his life. Independence City seemed like an okay choice to a young man who spent most of his adulthood so far throwing darts at an atlas looking for places to live.

In reality, Independence City was a place Castor has picked specifically to hide amidst the seedier elements of East Coast society. His stint in Atlantic City ended badly when a businessman from New York, working an insurance fraud, hired him and a few other freelancers to hit one of his casinos. Cast did the job and did it well, but decided that such a fine bang-up job deserved a bit more of a reward than the pissant money he and his fellows were getting. So he took the money for services rendered - all of it, a quarter of a million dollars. It's been stashed safely in Chinatown, where Cast owns two separate apartments - one to live in, and one rented under the assumed name of his late dad's Al-Anon sponsor.

To keep himself busy and distract himself from splurging all the robbery money and drawing attention, Cast decided to put himself on the market again. Good muscle with a knack for cars was always in high demand around cities like this, and the hard-living, fun-loving cowboy was as goofy and open a screwup as they came; he would have no problem selling himself to a good client. What he ended up settling into was not what he had in mind - his online ad was picked up by, of all things, an ASA here in Independence City, who was in need of a goofy screwup just like him. Tracking leads, winning information out of people, maybe some protection duty. It was pretty basic stuff, albeit something he would be talking about in the confession booth with a little less guilt.

Unlike his employer, Castor did not put any more heat on himself by taking up the vigilante lifestyle when he noticed himself developing powers. In fact, he's played entirely dumb so far, keeping the development of his photokinesis close to the chest. It seems to have worked out so far.

Carried Weapons/Items
SIG Sauer Pro, SilencerCo Maxim 9 suppressed pistol, Gerber Mark II fighting knife

Superpowers
Photokinesis - Castor has the power to control and manipulate light sources and hard light. Though he mainly uses this power as a creative means of teleportation - zipping from one light source to another - there are a variety of offensive and defensive capabilities that come from Cast's level of control.

Skills
Great defensive (and offensive!) driver, card player, decent skills in practical mathematics and financial acumen. Good at staying under the radar. Fantastic guitar player, whiskey drinker, and chomper of cigars rolled on the thighs of Native American virgins.

Extra
Cast is a devout Catholic, and keeps an ever-fluctuating list of his sins hidden in the glove compartment of his Chevelle - bad deeds in red ink, good deeds in black. Before gaining powers he was eyeing saving up for a potential stint in Las Vegas. He may still go, just with a little peace pipe puffin' partner in the passengers perch.