A cool guy with a rad attitude, this son of a motherfucker is the edgiest man alive. Or so xhe’d have you think. In reality, though xhe attempts to strike an edge, most of what xhe does instead comes off as an immature teenager’s bad idea of what edginess is, missing the point entirely and just looking like an unhinged weirdo in the process.

Despite this foolish attitude, xhe is surprisingly skilled in two things: management, and murder. Whilst xhe somehow bears the skill to bring to heel the vast majority of foes who come up against xhim, far more pertinent in xhis day-to-day career is xhis ability to keep track of finances and people alike, setting xhim up perfectly as an agent of the United Assassins Association.

Appearance: Rubert stands at a proud 6'6" with broadened shoulders and a muscular frame, really helping impose the intimidation factor as he towers over most people. He normally appears in suits, custom tailored and, for the most part, form fitting to his pectorals and biceps. Along his arms are scars that are oftentimes obscured by the sleeves of his suits. He oftentimes goes by Rutabaga for an unknown reason, however, he has gone on record saying "You'll be eating this Rutabaga's foot."

Backstory: Rubert Baigo started off as a farmer in rural Midwest America, living a simple life with his family where the hard labor helped increase his muscle mass to standards far superior to most humans and the management of the farm helped him increase his skills with economics and such. He loved his life until one day he found out there was a hit placed on him and his family for a reason he could only figure was faux and made up in an attempt to cash in on his land and property. He proceeded to take a break from farming and took up the defense of his family, where his strength helped him actually lay down a beating on any assassins foolish enough to try to kill him.

UAA officials took note of the actions of Rubert and eventually contacted him, attempting to recruit him into the organization. He joined up with them in an effort to keep his family safe, which has since proved successful.

While he only operates as a resource-allocation manager, he does sometimes get involved with enforcement of the rules and regulations as his vast strength has clocked people unconscious for a good amount of time in the past.

Abilities/Skills:
Strength of an Ox: Rubert possesses strength superior to the vast majority of humans his age, and he is able to use this ability to the fullest. His punches can shatter through walls if he tries hard enough.
Management Skills: Running a farm taught him how to manage funds and allocations of resources, turning him into a good manager for organizations and such.
Callous Demeanor: He doesn't like it when you talk shit about him or to him and he will fight you for it. You are only safe if you are a baby.

Obviously that is not his real name.

Person is what some might call old fashioned. The reason is not due to any particular dislike of what's new but rather he holds himself to an old standard of what an assassin was. To him the idea of getting into sword duels and fighting off groups of men is abhorrent. Even the slightest trace of one's presence at the scene of a murder is a failure in his eyes. To fight is the role of the fighter. To lay waste to armies of men is a warrior's creed. For him the ideal kill is one that's never seen, a clean murder with no trails leading to or from the victim. The only things his clients need to know is that the deed is done and the amount of money they owe.

He's had his hands in the UAA's business for quite some time. He's never submitted himself to the ranking system since he deems it demeaning to his trade but he's held a lot of influence and power within the association all the same. He's recently formed a small team which he's unofficially sponsored as their "Agent". To those for who it matters he's acting as an agent to a small team of what he calls "hyper-killers". For everyone else this agent with a box over his head just kind of waltz in from absolute obscurity and is now running a team that's gunning for the top ranks. Who he is is completely unknown to most.

There are plenty of rumors about him however. The UAA is anything but cuddly and many have wanted the steal the sway he holds. He's used multiple methods of dispatching would-be killers, a truly dizzying variety of methods to be precise. There are stories from the best of those who've made attempts on his life that he is immortal, simply returning again with mild injuries after being killed.

The only certainty is that no one knows who or what he is.

Name: Allison Attano
Codename: The Heretic
Age: 34
Current Rank: 124
Appearance: Allison is conventionally attractive. Slightly pale skin, high cheek bones, long raven black hair, and stunning green eyes. Considered average in height, at about 5'10", her lean figure doesn't really stand out in a crowd.

What does stand out, however, is her professional attire. A long blue-black coat trimmed with gold and coated red on the inside covers regal, form fitting clothes. Her leather boots are flexible, tied from the base to the top via a rope-like string. Fingerless gloves reach from the knuckles to halfway up her forearms, laced along the inner sides in that same rope-like string. Her coat comes complete with a hood that covers her face in shadows, hiding the mask that covers her face ever so slightly. Like a twisted skull leering from the shadows, telescopic lens glint as the light reflects off of the metal of the mask, it is a symbol of the fear that comes with death.

On her waist sits a customized miniature crossbow, which folds down into a compact size for easy transportation. In moments it can be spun from the holster, automatically taking form with a soft click.

On her other hip sits her beam katana, with a customized collapsible short sword hooked to the small of her back.

Moving back up her body, one might notice the glint of silver around her neck. Beneath her shirt lies an odd Charm. Rumor has it that those who see this Charm are nearly guaranteed to die shortly after.

On the back of each of her forearms, facing outward, one might also notice two strange...things...that appear to be made of bone and glow in the dim light with a sinister aura.

Underneath her right hand's glove lies the Mark of the Outsider, a supernatural brand that it's the source (or cause perhaps?) of her supernatural abilities. This brand glows blue when her abilities are active.

Her mask has silver lenses covering the eyes, made of a special material to prevent shattering. Blacks and purples blend together, with startling white teeth seeming to grin maniacally at you. Inside the lenses are zooming mechanisms, able to accurately enhance up to 100 meters with relative ease. The mask itself is made of a durable metal.



Personality:
Allison is subdued, generally speaking, preferring to use logic and reason to deal with everything. While this can give people the impression that she just doesn't care, or is an emotionless robot, she can surprise people with her reactions. Witty retorts are a common staple, as is sarcastic responses to 'dumb' questions / comments.

On the inside, behind that hard exterior, Allison is a very emotional woman. While she recognizes that her emotions cannot be allowed to control her, she can't simply turn these emotions off.

If you can manage to earn her trust and even her friendship, one will discover this hidden side of Allison where she actually cares openly, shares openly.

History:
Allison was born into a family stepped with a troubled history. Dating back to Corvo Attano and his daughter Emily Kaldwin and their struggle over an ancient throne of Dunwall, against mystical forces, supernatural assassins, and Witches.

Those Witches had long lost their power, the assassin's long since disbanded, and the Throne irrelevant centuries ago.

But while the Witches lost the bulk of their power, their abilities never fully left and they had long memories with deeper grudges. Eventually they decided to strike, and unfortunately this meant ill for an incredible young Allison.

The strike was bloody, and the entire family line was eradicated in moments. Allison was spared by a few key instances. Her family immediately sent her to a secret room behind a false wall in a hall closet, while buying time. Inside was a... Well, the best way Allison can describe it is that it was a Shrine. Unlike anything she had ever seen before, it seemed to emanate a strong, strange, alluring power. Reaching out, Allison touched the base as if in a trance, and then everything was gone.

Before her was the Void, and a strange black eyed man. He spoke of old flames, revenge, of Witches and power, of times long past. Many things he spoke of, and with them came a choice.

To die with the rest of her family as the assassins broke into the hidden chamber.
Or to accept his Mark, and to impress him in the years to come, because for the first time in centuries had a member of her family caught his attention.

She accepted the Mark, feeling the power of the Void flow through her.

The next thing she knew, she was back in the closet as the wall opened. In a flash she was behind the mysterious attackers, using this new ability to pass through the house and as far away as she could manage before collapsing.

There, practically dead in a dark alley she was found by a shrouded man, a Beam Katana in his hands. Allison remembers little of what happened next, or for several weeks after. But this man, only known to her as "El Gato", had saved her life and cared for her as her mental anguish nearly broke her.

He was an Assassin himself, though of what rank he never would divulge. But something about this mystery girl and her crazy Mark tugged at him.

Eventually she shared her story with him, seeking someone to latch onto to fill the gap in her soul that the loss of her family had created. And then the anger started when the rivers of tears ran dry.

She would fill those rivers, that void, with the blood of those assassins, and whoever hired them. These Witches that the Outsider had spoken of, organs?

El Gato pushed her forward, training and testing her.

Years passed with these tests, the training increasing, her goal for revenge becoming an obsession. But the fire was replaced with a cold indifference, a calculating gauge to increase her power. No longer was she rushing forward blindly. Now she was walking slowly.

Because in the end, no matter how much her views changed, she was going to get her revenge.

Eventually she was confident in her skills and abilities. Digging through information, closed door meetings, and rumors she was able to discover the identity of one of the assassins. As luck would have it this Doom Shaker was the easiest to find and reach. In the dead of night she assaulted his grounds. Dozens of lackeys died in her wake, a trail of gore marking her path, as they stood no chance in the face of her skill and wrath.

Inside a bunker, deep beneath a small building, she found him. On his turf, waiting for her, stood the bastard. And he had the audacity to not remember her.

Well, she reminded him before she cut out his beating heart.

Looting his trophy room gained her a mask, one she had seen long ago in her father's possession. She took it, spitting on the corpse as she left.

Months passed before she could locate another, a certain Mountain. Much the same passed in this encounter on a small island off of the coast, but he remembered. He begged in his final moments, spilling information on this who hired him. Witches, occult worshippers with a grudge against her family. They knew she lived, had even withheld some payment when Allison escaped, and they were there real ones who she was after.

Unfortunately he had no solid information on their locations, nor the identity of the final assassin, and died whimpering.

It was shortly after the death of the Mountain that Allison was contacted by the UAA. She had murdered two of their members, and they had taken notice. She had little reason to decline, this organization could aid her struggle in the long term. Through then she could perhaps discover that final elusive assassin, and finally avenge her family with the death of all involved.

For years she worked. Gaining notice, funds, underlings. It was during this time she was able to gain the Amethyst Carmelia Mk XII beam katana and make improvements to her own gear. To take the name of the Heretic for her unorthodox praying. To find her ancestor's home and make it her own arena and safe place.

While the years have been long, hard times... Her memory has not faltered.

For the Witches must die.


Combat Style: Allison is a skilled swordsman, able to adapt her approach on the fly as the situation and variables change. Beyond that she's fairly skilled with her personal crossbow, and is adept in brawling with her hands.

Her general style is to break the key points in her targets and opponents. Elbows, knees, wrists. This applies further into how she approached situations, preferring to use the element of surprise and her advantages to their full potential. If you can come at a problem from an abstract, unexpected angle, well, that's obviously a general good bet to get the drop on someone.

Equipment:
The Mask:
Allison's mask is a must during any form of work. Not only does it protect her direct identity, it comes with handy features. A zoom, upwards of 32x maximum, that has a built in audio connection so that she can hear sounds coming from what she focuses on. Beyond that the mask provides mild protection with it's solid outer layer and soft inner cushioning. Plus, the fear factor.

Beam Katana:
Dark as the shadows Allison uses to evade notice lies the hilt and scabbard. Upon removal from the scanners, the beam katana instantly activates. A deep purple beam, roughly 3 feet in length at full mast, this weapon is the culmination of years of work and divergence from the original base Camellia and D.O.S. lines.

Improvements have definitely been made, creating the Amethyst Chrysanthemum Mk. XII. Upgraded to include A.I. capable of turning the beam off as it is being sheathed, a faster charge while sheathed, and a stronger blade.

Collapsible Sword:
This sword, when retracted, is just a hilt. When extended, it has two lengths, one for Dagger length and the other for a short sword length. The metal is incredibly durable, the edge surprisingly sharp, and the weapon has been passed down through her family for generations, with minor improvements as time progressed.

Collapsible Crossbow:
A small crossbow capable of firing bolts of various utility. Sleep, explosive, regular bolt, and flame are possible, with penetration on regular bolts able to pierce standard "mook" armor. Higher end armor cannot be pierced. This is another relic, but has received more tinkering through the years.

Bone Charms:
Made from whale bones and occult rituals, these Charms grant very specific, but minor, enchantments to the wearer.

Powers:
Blink:
Allison can disappear and reappear at a distance location in the blink of an eye, her form seeming to become shadows and to collapse into itself in the blink of an eye before along the reverse at her designated location.

Requires eyesight to the landing end, and she keeps momentum upon exiting Blink.
Range limited to 50 meters per Blink.

Dark Vision:
Allison gains the ability to see in the dark. This also has the added benefit of seeing people though solid objects, highlighted in an unnatural aura, as well as a faint outline of their natural field of vision. Faint visible vibrations visible only to Allison of her own footsteps noise.

Limited to 30 seconds before her eyesight returns to normal.
Cooldown of 5 minutes for her eyes to be able to handle the strain again.

Doppleganger:
Allison can summon a Shade of herself, which has the exact same appearance as her at the time of casting. It cannot attack, speak, nor move, and is best used as a distraction. The Shade takes position based upon Allison's wishes.

The Shade last for 5 minutes, but physical contact with a living being will dispel it.
Requires eyesight to Target destination to create.

Shadow Walk:
Allison is shrouded in shadows, becoming much now difficult to detect and hit. Can be used for stealth attacks.

This form only lasts for 30 seconds.
Anyone who can see her upon activation will still be able to see her while the form is active.

Special Techniques:
In order to activate her special techniques, Allison must first pray over one of her Charms. This takes some time, and concentration, leaving her unable to attack or properly defend for about 20 seconds. She can still move and use Blink, upon activating a technique, the Charm shatters and needs to be replaced before she has full access to all her special techniques again. Each Charm has one technique associated with it.
Whirlwind:
Throwing out her arm, Allison sends a flurry of air at high speed like a tornado from her hand. Very chaotic, great for disarming, and very capable of killing someone thrown into solid walls with it.

Rat Swarm:
Allison summons a swarm of rats, approximately thirty in total, which attack all nearby hostiles.

Shadow Kill:
Allison strikes the target with a lethal weapon, disintegrating their body and leaving behind nothing but ash.


Arena Description:
To get to Allison's arena, one must first Wade through the ruins of Dunwall. Abandoned for centuries, the place is full of potential death by unstable structures. Close quarters, long open spaces, plenty of places to hide, and secret passages... Her Mooks take advantage of the layout to further place enemies at a distance. Power is sparse, mostly working for the defensive structures and traps Allison has installed. These can range from walls of electricity to guard towers, and are meant to force incoming threats to more vulnerable areas.

Reaching the Tower starts the battle with Allison, in an arena she knows like the back of her hand. The Tower is full of clutter and secrets, and further traps such as Arc Pylons that can zap unprepared intruders with near lethal amounts of electricity. With many floors, and several areas collapsed, it's practically a maze where Allison could be anywhere, at any time.

There are also built in Killswitches that can cut power and plunge the majority of the building into darkness.




Arena Tactics:
Allison takes advantage of the 'clutter' in her area to allow her event to lose sight of her easily and take advantage of their confusion.

Beyond that, she has a Killswitch on the lights in the area installed she can activate if things get too dire.

Minion Description:
Allison's mooks wear similar outfits to herself, and similar mask concepts.

A select few (read: 3) have Beam Katanas of their own, while the rest focus on firearms or regular bladed weaponry.

These minions employ a strategic measure in their defense. Outrange, swarm, confuse... Anything they can use to gain an advantage, they will.


The Travis has a the jacket that is the red and is the leather.

Name: Oscar Betteridge.
Codename: The Savile Fist!
Age: 42
Appearance: A sculpture of muscular power! The only thing more manly than his deadly physique is his thick and luxurious mustache! When at his leisure being a man about town Oscar can usually be seen wearing suites of various design, be it the latest tweed or something finely cut by his personal tailor. This is probably what takes up most of Oscar's monthly bills as whenever a fight or assassination is to take place (Which one must remember is a part of his gentlemanly calling) then Mr Betteridge feels compelled to flex his muscualr form and burst out of his clothing to reveal the gi trousers and tattoos below.

Besides making sure that his mustache and scalp are perfectly waxed, as befits a proper gentleman, Oscar will always make sure to carry himself with proper posture! Such things were always taught to be important to him in his youth and only became more so once he learned the ways of martial arts where one's stance makes the very foundations of the fight to follow.

His expression is one that is hard to read at times, as anyone he is talking to will have to focus on his eyes to glean something from it. Since his mustache is so large and proud enough to cover his mouth even when speaking. The thing has a habit of shaking up and down when he laughs and bristling like and angry cat when he channels his chi.

Personality: A True man's man! A Gentleman's man! A posh snob, born to money and mentally stuck in a world long gone. Lucky for Oscar his personal wealth means he doesn't really need to listen to what others may spout as reality.

Beyond his ingrained classism is a boisterous and guffawing chap. Always making sure to speak to others with what he considers good manners and who views a proper smackdown as one of the jolliest forms of entertainment. He doesn't care for cowardly or dishonourable tactics, though what qualifies as dishonourable to him seems to change upon whatever suits his needs at the time. So long as he can have a jolly good time and people aren't course around him then Oscar is up for a good time and can be hard to get a rise out of given his snobbish sense of zen.

What he cannot abide however are contracts that force him to go to places him deems aesthetically ghastly! Or those that indulge in crude theatrics. Honestly, an assassin must have a sense of style after all. Those can perhaps be forgiven if they may back up their vulgar ways with a suitable display of power... they only thing Oscar cannot forgive is the unseemly crime of poverty and grime. Ugh most deplorable.

History: Born the only heir to an old family of the waning aristocracy of Britain. Oscar's father served as the ambassador to China and turned their little embassy into a recreation of the richest parts of England all mashed together. Oscar grew up knowing of his own cultural superiority to others, not as a patriotic servant of the queen but as a member of the richest class, because money is the real global truth!

Unlucky for this pampered lad his family also frittered their fortune away on slow horses, oriental teas and other such fripperies. The only thing Oscar could think to do was to earn a living with his fists as he vented his frustrations on the street rats who gloated on his lowering of status. It was this life of rabid violence that brought him to the attention of a group of mysterious monks, one of whom saw potential in the young Brit and invited him to perfect his violent art in their mountain monastery. It was in that lost and forgotten place that Oscar discovered the philosophy that said inner peace and true happiness came from letting go of material desires and the ambitions of this life. What utter nonsense! His happiness clearly came from owning a lot of expensive things, and his greatest thrill from testing himself against proper opponents... or the sadistic pleasure of taking apart someone far inferior to yourself.

Still he played along with them, too intrigued by this talk of mystical chi channels and forbidden death strikes. Over the years Oscar dedicated himself to the martial arts until he was inducted into the inner circle. There he learned the dark arts of the forbidden touch that rends apart the body of your foe.

In the end there was only trial left for Oscar to prove himself. A fight to the death against his own master! It didn't matter that his master never agreed to those terms, only that Oscar walked away with his head held high and as the master of his fate... and a mound of murdered monks in his wake.

There was no question as to how he could win his way back to fortune now, through good honest murder. Being the type to do all things properly Oscar did his research to make sure he earned his money in a way both murderous and prestigious. The UAA sprang to the top of that list and Oscar set about punching his way through some insignificant's skull and into the ranks of assassins.

As for why he would want to join the ranks this alliance of five well it's obvious. It isn't fitting for a gentleman to spend his days worrying about money and with this scheme Oscar can spend as happily as he pleases while focusing on targets that could test and amuse him. As well as the challenge of slaughtering his way up the ranks!


Combat Style: To fight with fist and foot is the true way of the warrior! Oscar has trained his body to its physical peak, honing himself to move with inhuman speed and strength thanks to his training and the proper channelling of his chi. Punching through brick and metal is a common thing to him now as Oscar has set about combining his techniques to create his signature style. Queensbury Fu! And all it took was the rampant appropriation of other cultures and disregard for the well being of others.

While forming a strong centre of gravity Oscar can pummel his foes with a steady stream of strikes while leaving himself in the proper form to deflect and counter the physical attacks of others.

Equipment: Oscar shuns ranged combat as an honourable gentleman, though he keeps a delightful pair of beam nunchucks on hand, letting the weapon fly in a deadly flurry around his body. This can be used to either pummel someone in a stream of blows too fast to properly follow but their primary use is defensive, being used as a way to deflect or bash aside weapons and bullets he wouldn't be able to handle bare fisted.

Powers: Chi is the name of the game! Formed into a vibrant inner fire by years of training, meditation, and liberal application of the teas of a hundred nations. Channeling his chi and muscle power can boost Oscar's natural abilities to new extremes and can add a mystical edge to his special attacks. When he really gets into the groove of battle the air around Oscar ripples with energy and pale orange flames.

Special Techniques: The forbidden touch - Oscar's signature killing strike, the darkest art that his master tried to stop him learning. It doesn't kill instantly but instead by channeling his dark chi in such a way Oscar can use a "Dark Strike" that should it land will disrupt the chi flow of the victim, causing their bones to shatter slowly over time. It is quite a thing to see the look in a man's eyes as he feels his spine slowly splinter apart.

Muscle power! - Flex your muscles like a man! With just a hint of chi and a lot of willpower (and ab power) Oscar can steel his muscles to a horrendous degree allowing him to briefly tank attacks that would prove fatal otherwise. A quick and often desperate flare but it has come in handy enough times in the past for Oscar to put time into perfecting the technique. It can cause horrible stomach cramps and gas afterwards though...

Dragon pound! - An oldy but a goody in Oscar's books. Putting his chi fire into his fists and slamming said fist into the ground can bring about an explosive shock wave. Always handy when handling swarms of lesser foes you'd rather sweep aside.


Arena Description: Mr Betteridge's tea room and dojo is a place that screams flagrant class. The front rooms is a tea room and cafe that serves the best leafy brews in the city, along with exquisite cakes and side dishes. as well as offering fine leather armchairs by the fire for those that like a good old fashioned smoke with their high tea. Go through the gambit of kitchens and staff rooms to reach the back and you find Oscar's personal dojo where he awaits all challengers.

The dojo is done in the style of classical Japanese architecture (Because even though he grew up and was trained in China Oscar can never tell the Asian nations apart). Mat floors and paper walls in pale cream with various characters that suggest battle, muscle and power adorn the walls.

Arena Tactics: Being the quasi-honourable type that he claims to be and seeking to test himself against plucky challengers Oscar prefers to keep things simple. The main room of his dojo is a simple room for doing honest battle in. Though if Oscar does feel like spicing things up then he can slam his foot down on an activation switch that causes a variety of armed training dummies to spring up from the floor. Then they set to spinning! Turning the dojo room into a forest of swinging blades, clubs and all sorts of melee weapons that will demand dodging as they keep an invader on their toes.

Minion Description: If someone wants to become a disciple in the Betteridge dojo they must also be willing to work as a waiter and maid in his tea room. They also have to be buff enough to meet Oscar's exacting standards! When a new assassin enters the building they will be met with a force of prim and proper staff who then set about flexing their way out of their Victorian themed clothes and into their Victorian themed gi. Unlike their master they may fight with spears, glaives and other ninjaesque weaponry to make sure an invader is worthy of facing their master.

Assassins should also beware of scolding hot tea and distractions in the form of delicious cake.


For a more civilised fight.



Oooh it's a red jacket! I get it now.

Name: Abigail Jingoston
Codename: Maiden of Bones
Age: 24
Appearance: Abigail is a young woman, sporting a lithe frame with a head of shoulder-length navy hair. Her eyes are a shade of green and a large scar runs down the side of her face, indication of something happening in the past that left her scarred for life (of course, it was a physical wound). Her armor is olive green, overlaying a purple dress and with a chainmail midriff to allow for maximum flexibility in a fight and maximum protection with that flexibility. Her mask (shown far below) is a crude skull complete with a victorian design along the left side, possibly indicative of the scar on her face instead of being just a design.
Personality: Dedicated, callous, and planning, Abigail is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. She devoutly follows her morals of what is good without any question, and will never slack off on a job if it still needs doing. Even though she's often opposed to instigating combat, she will not hesitate to bring down the hammer if need be. That being said, she will always try for diplomacy when she fights, be it alliance or surrender.
History: Born the daughter of a mayor, Abigail had wanted to strive for something different since she could toddle around on her own feet. She was unhappy being treated like dad's little princess and was eager to leave her home to find a real purpose. She got through school decently enough, advancing right up to the upper quarter of her class in high school, but even despite being set up for success, Abigail desperately wanted change.

Fortunately, her life changed within one faithful day. The day she met him.

Abigail had heard rumors of assassins and what-not all throughout the world, but she never thought she'd get the chance to meet one. One day, while she was walking home from her school, she literally ran into Brock Sinclair, an assassin known for his swordsmanship and abilities. Of course, she didn't recognize that the man she just spilt coffee on was that assassin, so she apologized sincerely as she offered him lunch as a way to say she was sorry. He didn't accept the lunch.

Later that night, Abigail awoke to a sword point in her face. Reacting quickly, she threw the assassin off her and rushed for her phone, preparing to call the authorities. Brock begged her to not do it, to the point where he offered her protection from other assassins, and she accepted his offer. Little did she know, that made her a potential target for many other assassins, to the point where she had quite the hefty bounty. Of course, she didn't know that until she guessed it from Brock wanting to teach her under his guidance about swordplay. She graduated highschool and began her education about swordplay on the same day. Every day after, Brock came to her residency and helped her learn about the sword in hopes of mastering it. Soon, the two became a pair that invested romantically into eachother, and eventually, they became engaged. Things were going great for Abigail, and this was the change she had hoped for.

That was, until the day that Brock didn't come. The situation was peculiar for Abigail, but she figured that he just couldn't make it that day.

Then the next day he didn't come, either. Abigail decided to take matters into her own hands as she went to Brock's own house, only to find his skeleton impaled by his own sword, the meat of his body completely stripped off of his bones. Abigail broke down crying as she read the note his corpse was left with.

"Old friends die hard. To whoever finds this skeleton freak dead where he perished, just know he died painfully. His debt has been repaid, however, so know that we will not strike again. This was our final act as the Rhine Rioters, and with Sinclair dead, our leader has no purpose. We are disbanded."

Lifting the sword of the old assassin Bonesword, Abigail placed his remains in a bag as she took up her own assassin title of the Maiden of Bones, a homage to her fiance, and she longs to bring him back to life with a free will so she may be reunited with him. Since the day of his death, Abigail has felt more... intact with her abilities, and has learned a kind of supernatural spell as a result. She believes it as the ghost of Brock himself fighting alongside her, but it may be untapped potential that was finally activated.


Combat Style: A quasi-master swordsman, Abigail knows the ins and outs of swordplay and uses her knowledge of such in order to play on the defensive in a fight, only going in when she sees a golden opportunity. One handed weapons are her bread and butter, allowing her to fire off dreambolts while swordfighting against someone. She's able to hold her own on the offensive, using a reliance on slashes and jabs in order to get in damage before trying to disarm the opponent in an effort to make their end come quicker.
Equipment: Her personal weapon of choice is the Shroomblade, the signature sword of Brock Sinclair. The sword exists as a rapier that, when wielded, is charged with plasma that allows the sword to act as a beam rapier. It fundamentally works similar, and it's quite convenient for the rare situation when the plasma fails to work. The blade is also able to tie into one of Abigail's special techniques.
Powers:
Dream Manipulation - Abigail possesses the innate ability to draw upon the power of dreams and channel that into spectral energy, which she can fire off for damage. Typically, these bolts don't do a ton of damage, however, their power is amplified at night and/or in the proximity of many people.
Limited Plant Manipulation - Abigail can control plants to a degree. It mixes into her power to control dreams, and as such, she can perform greater feats with this only when she is surrounded by many others. Additionally, this power is restricted to only working on terrain that allows for plant growth, and only terrain-specific plants can be grown (sand = desert plants, soil = majority, concrete = moss almost exclusively, etc.)
Special Techniques:
Nightmare - Usable only at night, Abigail can completely terrorize a mind of a target with her powers and, in the right circumstances, reduce them to complete insanity or into a state of temporary cranial inactivity, incapacitating the target completely for a while. The use of this move will cause her nose to bleed at best or all of her facial orifices to bleed at it's worst.
Vengeance Slash - Abigail can fuse her powers with her blade, allowing for a single strike to completely devastate a target in a surge of energy that emblazons them with feelings of vengeance and redemption. This strike must land on the opponent for the full effect of the power to be activated, as it will not target the ground or an empty barrel.


Arena Description: An old abandoned research facility, taken over and rebuilt from the ground up in pursuits of education on the idea of necromancy, specifically the resurrection of deceased and decrepid organisms in pursuit of a way to bring Brock Sinclair back from the dead. Additionally, funds for the research facility come from other various methods acquisition, all perfectly legal. Taxidermy, cremation, funeral services, eulogies, floral arrangements, the facility does all of that and then some if it gets funds for the research they are conducting.
Arena Tactics: Around the grounds, research into chloromancy has been completed, one of Brock Sinclair's signature abilities. As such, the facility is swarming with sentient plant life that will act against an invader and attempt to assault the invader. Rumor has it that a large basil-isk and a tiger lily roam the facility, looking for their deceased master relentlessly. They're neutral towards the researchers, but they'll be killer towards anyone impeding their research. Oh, and you need to bring a plant to enter. Any plant will do, preferrably a green rose.
Minion Description: Researchers, armed with various beam weapons, prowl the grounds of the Necro Lab. Their outfits are mainly labcoats and gasmasks, and they each carry around their respective ID Cards allowing them access to the certain levels of the doors in the facilities. You can try to swipe one of the max-level keycards, but watch out! Those are reserved for the highest level researchers and for the monsters that dwell within.




- Travis has a red jacket, I think. It's so you can't see him bleed.

Name: Anny Junior.
Codename: Omnivore.
Age: 15
Appearance:

One third young girl, one third bestial mutant and one third killer cyborg.

While numerous changes have been made since Omnivore fused with her body she's never been like the normal folks outside the radiation free zones. Like the rest of her family she possessed hands easily quadruple the size of normal hands, each finger ending in a twisted gnarl spike of calloused flesh and bone which served as a claw. Now these claws have been cybernetically enhanced with nanotechnology, leaving them longer, sleeker, silvery and noticeably deadlier than her naturally born claws were.

While once her teeth were like that of a sharks, sharp and strong for tearing into tougher sources of food, her teeth are now far stronger and sharper than before. Her maw is like a bear trap and where once eyes laid now two cylinders are set, looking out through glass lenses like a pair of binoculars were merged into her skull. The faint red light of cameras can be seen dimly glowing behind the lenses of her ocular apparatuses. Thanks to the changes to her mouth her toothy grin reaches all the way up to her ears.

_
Her feet are not unlike her hands. In fact her feet are practically the same as her hands in every single facet. The only thing that sets the feet apart from the hands are the lack of thumbs. Moving on to her hair it comes down like long fine strands of silver. In truth her hair actually is silver. Well, a silver based alloy.

The rest of her looks more or less normal for a fifteen year old girl. Her preference is short sleeves shirts and shorts for they allow for greater limb mobility. She is currently one hundred and forty centimeters tall and weighs two hundred and fifty pounds. While that weight might seem absurd for a human girl for a machine she's a veritable light-weight. Needless to say not an ounce of that weight is fat tissue. Her body is svelte and not extraordinarily toned like her strength might suggest she be. As the machinery inside her is largely responsible for her strength muscles are largely unnecessary.

_
Personality:

She's just daddy's precious little girl. Seeing as her whole family were cannibalistic mutants who feast on outsiders there's a great deal of connotation to that title.

Now that she's merged with Omnivore however she's all the better at carrying on in her family's name. She's quite friendly but regards most "Normies" as either walking meals or strangers she needs to keep alive until they've spent their usefulness. When a stranger is no longer useful, they are just another meal.

The fastest way to Anny's heart is through her stomach and that's amplified by magnitudes by Omnivores incessant drive for more fuel. Keep her fed and she can be quite pleasant if macabre company. She's still a bit of a kid at heart, raised on family values with an inkling of southern flair. Her anger towards Dynami-Corp is palpable however and anything done to hurt the company is fine by her.

Her method of combat does bleed quite a bit into her personality and vice versa. She has a very animalistic method of approach, stalking her prey like a predator before leaping out to pin her victim with her claws, leaving them helpless while she bites down for the kill if they weren't already dead. Hence, a lot of her mannerisms reflect this approach. As she's learned well from experience she's quite well aware to keep out of public view whilst "Normies" are about.

While some might argue that nothing is right with Anny not all is well with her either. Omnivore has it's own agenda and means to see it through.

_
History:

Our little tale begins in the radioactive wasteland that is Nevada, down in the dumping grounds. For the longest time the US government has been using this area to test their nuclear armaments and over the years the effects of the radiation on the land have become clear. What was already a harsh desert had become toxic, nearly unlivable. That didn't stop the locals from trying.

The people of a little town near the testing grounds were a stubborn lot. They refused to abandon their homes, even when the surrounding area was bought up by corporations and turned into a massive collective dump. For a bit the dumps were kept to code but when the government cut environmental protections in return for corporate kickbacks these dumps quickly spiraled out of control. Before long a good part of the Nevada desert had become a collapsed heap of any old garbage the corporations discarded, both regular and stuff that really should of been more safely disposed of.

Still, the townsfolk remained, undaunted by the dramatic downward dive in their quality of living. Over the generations that lived there however mutations were rampant. Most died of genetic illnesses and cancer of course. Those who didn't die however were changed. Most of these changes were bad. A small percentage of these changes however were actually beneficial in their new environment. Their stomachs became more tolerant and better at digesting unclean food, their hands became hard claws capable of peeling open sharp metal items to better reach food and Their teeth became sharper and harder to better tear through tough old food.

Those with the most successful genes survived. This left the Junior family as some of the only people to continue existing in this horrid trash land. Their last name wasn't always Junior but they forgot that junior was just a suffix and not an actual last name long ago. Another thing they long forgot was their attachment to humanity. Given the changes they've undergone they have long ago shed their notion of unity with mankind, treating all those who aren't one of them as lesser. Given the scarcity of food available they've turned to kidnapping strangers and eating them, a morally viable option in their eyes.

_
Cue Anny, a member of the most recent generation of the Junior family. She's the perfect little Junior, always helping around the house and just being a sporting young mutant overall. One evening however as she was playing outside with her cousin Suzy a helicopter was spotted flying over the garbage mountains. Now the Junior family is a firmly staunch defender of the second amendment and the patriarchs of the family have always been quite paranoid that the government will come down to oppress them, a rather reasonable fear given their state of being. Naturally seeing a black helicopter over their territory was highly suspicious so just to be safe the family brought out their rifles and shot the helicopter down.

Being a curious sort Anny decided to go investigate the crash site. After all, how often do you get to see a live crashed helicopter? Seeing as it might have some cool stuff she and her cousin went along until they reached the smoking wreckage. Several meters short of the fallen vehicle however was a strange metal case emblazoned with the Dynami-Corp logo. The case seemed to be damaged, the locks having come undone from the impact. She tentatively approached the case and opened it to see what was inside.

What she saw was a strange bottle of orange gel and a silvery goo. Aside from some other high tech stuff which seemed to leak liquid nitrogen the silver goo was the main content of the case. While her cousin waited a safe distance back Anny seemed oddly fascinated by this strange stuff who's origins were a mystery to her. She dipped a claw in, the gooey fluid feeling thick and ice cold like chilled molasses. It was at that moment that she made a decision which changed her life forever.

She licked the goo off her finger to see what it tasted like.

It didn't taste very good firstly. It was very cold and rather bland to boot. Anny had failed to notice her friend was backing away, the reason laying directly in front of her.

"Anny! Look out!" Her cousin cried out, but in vain as it was too late. Looking over to see her cousin yelling she failed to notice the goo moving towards her. The moment she looked back it surged up at her, catching her by surprise. It rushed into her open maw, flooding her mouth before forcefully pumping itself into her stomach. She tried to stop it but the gelid substance simply flowed around her claws and into her mouth without end. The moment felt like forever but it was as brief as it was fast. It was surprising how quickly she was forced to swallow that much goo. She was so full her stomach bulged. It was a shallow curve on her frame but noticeable. She was left in a bit of a daze after a rough experience like that so her cousin rushed her home as quickly as she could.

_
At first the signs were minimal. Her family were deeply concerned for her but they didn't know any doctors and taking her into a city would simply get them arrested or worse. They prayed for her safety day and night and for a couple days it seemed like she was recovering. The mass in her body hadn't left but she was starting to feel better. That was all before the nanomachines were warmed by her body heat enough to give them the energy, allowing them to initiate bodily reconstruction.

Her family could only wait around and watch in horror as the nanomachines started consuming her flesh as fuel. It was agonizing as organs were burned away, replaced with mechanical substitutes, reorganized for more spacial efficiency. Her stomach became a furnace, her bones were drilled into and emptied of marrow, Scalding metal flowed over her teeth and claws, hardening into finely shaped blades. Her eyes were melted down, the sockets fitted with two cylinder with lenses, built into cameras. Her hair fell out and fine strands of silver alloy were grown in it's place. Her skin quaked with pain allover as the nanomachines built a nanomechanical armor skin directly underneath her current skin. Her fat was burned as it no longer served a purpose, better methods of storing energy were now in effect inside her.

This disturbing and unfathomably excruciating process lasted for roughly four days. Upon completion she was left in a completely different state. Even to her own family, a family of mutant cannibals, she was disturbing. She still loved them and they loved her back but in the dead of night they could see the faint glow of two diminutive red lights staring out through the darkness like some monster of lore. Her teeth now gleamed like a wicked bear trap and she no longer had lips to hide them either. Having a conversation with her was eery as she no longer needed to move her mouth to speak thanks to the speaker inside. Her claws were longer and sharper than the rest of theirs now. Smoke would rise from her mouth whenever she consumed something. The cords which extended from the inside of her mouth were especially unnerving in the way they moved about like agitated cobras at times.

It was at this time that OS Omnivore begun it's instruction of it's user as to the features and usage of this prototype. One of the first things Omnivore encouraged Anny to do was to find the HITS gel capsule. Luckily for them her family had looted the site of the crash, taking in the capsule among other things which were in the process of being sorted to see what they could make use out of. Upon receiving the capsule Anny's rib cage opened up like a barn door and the cords in her mouth operated on their own as they seized the capsule and placed it gently into the slot that was designed to receive it. With that her chest closed, leaving her mother once again traumatized.

_
After all that it seemed life might be able to return to a pleasant status quo. The period of peace Anny had found after her unsightly transformation was brief however as, in the dead of night, her town was targeted with a salvo of bullets fired from remotely piloted drones. Many were killed, the rest left in disarray. Armed mercenaries descended from helicopters and began shooting any mutants they saw. Anny awoke to the sound of screaming and gunfire, running out into the hall to see the rest of her family out as well. Her father looked down at her, his face softening with a certain sadness. He knew why the men had come, there was only one conclusion as to the purpose of their assault.

They were after Anny.

"Anny, you need to go! We cannot let them take you to their evil labs!" He commanded her as he went to his closet to get his shotgun.

"But what about-"

"Go!" Her father cut her protest off, sternly ordering her to escape. It hurt him so to do this but it was, in his mind, better this way. She was always such a good girl, it hurt her heart to leave them behind but she listened to her father, taking off for the back door. In the distance she could hear the roar of gunfire, bullets ripping through the house. She did not linger, escaping through a narrow valley of trash. She knew the trash lands like the back of her old hand so it was quite easy for her to throw off their hunt. They were quite determined however. At every odd turn there was a helicopter well up above, combing the paths through the mountains of garbage with their search lights. Pretty much the entire night there wasn't a single moment of peace as she snuck through. It was already dawn when the mercenaries finally gave up the hunt and returned to the city aboard their helicopters. Once it seemed the coast was clear Anny climbed inside a discarded trailer and cried herself to sleep. She wasn't able to physically shed tears mind you but she did weep.

_
After that day she vowed she would get her revenge on Dynami-Corp. Using her newfound capabilities she looked up where Dynami-Corp's headquarters were situated and snuck aboard a train on it's way there. Once she arrived at the city she experienced her first failed assassination first hand. Thinking she could simply kill her way to the top of the building she entered the building only to nearly be swarmed with exceptionally well armed guards. She killed quite a few but was forced to retreat when she heard sirens in the distance. She was only able to narrowly escape the small army of security guards and swat cops, escaping to the docks after shooting down a helicopter with her CEP Rifle and evading the land bound police vehicles while she fled to the docks and lost their trail.

She had to lay low for quite some time as the police were on high alert, scouring the city looking for her. It was at this point she was contacted by a representative from the UAA (United Assassins Association). He saw potential in her and offered her the opportunity to disappear off the network in exchange for her compliance. Seeing as she was making little progress in taking down Dynami-Corp with this state of high alert the city was in she accepted the offer. She was given a hideout to lay low in and after a few well placed bribes and favors called in any mention of Anny was dropped from police record. While he couldn't wipe the minds of officers involved in official record it was as if she had never existed.

From here she was shown the ropes to the job of assassination. Despite her unsightly appearance making it difficult for her to get around she was able to find her way through it all and soon enough earned her position in the rankings. Two years later and here she stands, a cybernetically enhanced mutant and professional assassin all in one.

_


Combat Style:

Anny fights like a true predator, stalking her foes through the dark before pouncing in for the kill. She fights with utter ferocity, her intent to deal as much damage as possible with each motion.

To start she prefers a stealthy approach, often climbing across the ceiling and staying close to the shadows. If the route ahead is too guarded she'll cut the lights, alerting her foes but also robbing them of vision. She has no trouble seeing in the dark thanks to her ocular upgrades. If the location has security systems she'll sneak on through until she reaches a terminal and take control of it for herself, using the security measures against any remaining security personnel.

When killing is the name of the game Anny's eye stays on the prize. She'll take the quickest route necessary to reach her prey, favoring stealth naturally as it can bypass a lot of delays. If confronted with a group of enemies she employs hit and run tactics, diving in to take out the most dangerous target before leaping to safety and slipping out of sight forcing her aggressors to pursue her. She likes to lure her prey into prime ambush areas so she can repeat her process of kill and dash, wittling her opposition down until the opposing forces are too weak to stop her from sailing in and killing them all in a flurry of sweeping claws.

Like with groups for tough opponents she loves to ambush them. She'll stick to the darkness and observe her opponent, looking for openings to exploit. When the time is ripe she'll close for the kill, launching herself and landing on her foe with all four limbs worth of claws forward. This isn't always the case however as, like Omnivore, Anny is an adaptable hunter. If her target is lethal at close range she'll harry them with cord beams, targeting their weak points with a focus on either killing or disabling her prey enough to close for the kill. If her foe likes to set up she'll throw a wrench in their arrangement to leave them vulnerable. If her foes require a more drawn out battle she'll stick with ranged lasers and lead them on a runabout until they're weak enough to close on. If her foes like to fight from afar and move around a lot she'll utilize her mobility and her cords to quickly catch, bind and tear her opponent apart. If her foe likes to wear a lot of armor she'll stay at a safe range based on the opponent's arsenal and pick away at the vulnerable sections until her claws can punch through.

On top of all that she has a fair number of other means of either killing or disabling her foe built in. If her already impressive variety of functions isn't enough Omnivore itself can also adapt her hardware to best tackle the situation in a pinch. If plenty of food sources are available she can work the CEP Rifle among other fuel intensive weaponry she might possess into her strategies to secure a faster kill.

Lastly if a situation looks dire enough she's not above simply retreating, whether temporarily so she can refuel and gather her bearings or for much longer if a battle is simply too one-sided for her to manage.

_
Equipment: None at present.

Powers:

Anny's powers all stem from nanomechanical enhancements from Omnivore. Starting from the head she possesses cameras instead of eyes which can display pertinent information in her HUD (Heads-Up Display) as well as switch to various spectrums of sight. Her already shark-like teeth have been reinforced with an incredibly sharp alloy which, in combination with the powerful motor built into her jaw, allow her to bite through most materials. Speaking of her jaw it is also set on a curved rail so when needed she can unhinge her jaw and bite down on larger surfaces or even swallow things whole. The teeth have a wire running through each of them which generates a strong magnetic field so no magnetically shaped beam weaponry can ruin her perfect smile. The inside of her throat is lined with a flexible armor and built to crush difficult materials with enhanced undulant contractions so they will fit down into her stomach furnace easier. Anny no longer has lips so her speaking is now instead done through a speaker located in the back of the roof of her mouth.

She no longer has a tongue either. Instead her mouth contains four sockets where extendable cords reside, the lengths running down her neck subdermally and into an internal torso compartment which is where the main length of the cord is housed. These "tongues" are controlled via a series of hydraulic muscle packets and micro-engines which grant the cords the prehensile maneuverability, strength and dexterity of an elephant's trunk. Each cord is half a centimeter in diameter and fifteen meters in length. The tip of the cords is a small metal device with adjustable prongs. These prongs can adjust to best fit any sort of socket and in addition can splay out to serve as a grappling hook or clamp down like a gripping claw, allowing the cords to hold fast onto a wide variety of surfaces. Omnivore can use these cords to form direct links with both computerized and electrical networks. The compartments which house the cords are fitted with an automated winch which allows Anny to pull herself to her target or vice versa. Lastly these tips have an emitter unit in the very middle which allow them to shoot either a weak beam, still capable of cutting flesh and scoring bone mind you, or a ten centimeter long beam blade held steady with a shaped magnetic field. Her teeth have been made retractable so she's able to use her tongues without risk of cutting them up on her wickedly sharp smile.

_
Now we move down to the torso, arguably the second most important part of the human body. Inside Anny's torso is the core to her power: The furnace. In place of a stomach she possesses a high intensity furnace capable of melting most metals in under a minute. The heat is stored away in a special substance developed by Dynami-Corp known as HITS Gel (High Intensity Temperature Storage Gel), a unique chemical with a gelatinous consistency which can store intense degrees of heat with minimal heat loss over long periods of storage. The HITS gel is stored in a well protected container near the stomach furnace. When the HITS gel is exposed to a specific chemical catalyst it releases all the heat stored within. It is quite a revolutionary substance in the field of battery technology, a heat based energy storage system which out-performs all other competing energy systems, including gasoline engines, by a fair margin.

The furnace generates power by breaking down materials devoured by Anny, releasing the energy stored within which is then conducted through special panels on the armored walls of the furnace and deposited into the HITS gel which stores the heat until Omnivore's nanomachine network requires more energy. The amount of heat derived is largely dependent on the energy content of the materials consumed. Substances like water and sand provide no heat while things like meat and oil provide terrific quantities of heat. The heat is then transformed into electricity with decent energy conservation via a method of heat recycling before the electricity is distributed to the various capacitors. Omnivore has reserve batteries to store electricity as a backup just in case something terrible happens to it's HITS gel supply or furnace. Omnivore can also draw electricity from outside sources such as wall sockets or power lines directly for that extra energy. In the situation that Omnivore is subject to an EMP (Electro-Magnetic Pulse) her more important systems and energy storages are protected with faraday cages which will conduct the effect of the EMP in place of the protected components. While some more external hardware such as the cameras and limbs may be shut down when hit with an EMP Omnivore will be able to reactivate the effected systems shortly, minimizing the damage potential such an effect might otherwise pose.

_
Next come the rest of her limbs. There is nothing flesh and blood about her arms and legs. She has hydraulic muscles and carbon fiber weave ropes for tendons. Even her bones have been reinforced. Her palms are twelve centimeters wide and sixteen centimeters long. The length of each segment of her fingers are listed from the knuckle down as follows: twenty centimeters, sixteen centimeters, eight centimeters. The length of the thumb from the knuckle down is as follows: eighteen centimeters, eight centimeters.

Each knuckle has a subdermal engine installed, granting mechanically superior grip strength. With her level of strength she can crush metal in her hands, though effort is still proportionate to the durability and thickness of the material being crushed. Her grip strength however is still inferior to both her own jaw strength and her leg strength. Her finger tips do not possess finger nails but instead each ends in a smooth metal point, hard enough to drive into tank armor without bending. The insides of her fingers and thumb curve into a V shaped edge, this edge being quite narrow and sharp like a blade. This edge continues all the way up to her finger tips (and thumb tip) forming the complete edge of a blade, only interrupted with brief spaces over the joints. These edges are angled only slightly to a side so they are able to subtly overlap better should Anny close her hand into a fist. The edges are also slightly serrated so as to provide better grip when climbing among other scenarios. Lastly she has a wire which runs down the center of each finger and thumb. This wire generates a magnetic field which allows her claws to clash with the magnetic fields containing beam blades and similar effects with relative safety.

Her legs possess the largest hydraulic muscles in her body making her legs her most powerful limbs. Her knees and ankles are both augmented with shock absorbers and powerful motors allowing her to make jumps reaching up to fifteen meters in distance. Thanks to the shock absorbers and her relatively light frame she is able to land quite safely and with plenty of grace. This also benefits her in high falls, though obviously everything has a limit to how fast it can fall before the amount of shock absorption provided is inadequate.

_
In a more general category she possesses a secondary layer of skin underneath her living flesh skin. This silver layer is her nanoweave armor, a series of interlocking nanomachines. This armor is smooth and as flexible as regular skin however it hardens in response to physical trauma. In addition her bones have been hollowed out and coated in a thin layer of high carbon alloy. The inside of the bones have been reinforced with a corrugated latticework of high carbon alloy panels. Thanks to the strength of the geometric designs used within Omnivore was able to eschew a great deal of mass from the bones, allowing for a far lighter frame which benefits Anny's speed and agility. In addition pretty much all of the exposed metals of her body are all cut with rust resistant elements and are water-tight so she doesn't need to worry about breaking down after a nice dip in a pool or something.

Though the furnace exchanges a good amount of energy trapped in materials into heat directed into the HITS gel everyone knows that there's always heat lost in any exchange. Luckily Anny has a solution which helpfully weaponizes the heat output from her furnace. While burning materials in her furnace she can breath fire in short bursts from her mouth. If she drinks water than she can breath a gout of super-heated steam, the size of it being dependant on the quantity of water swallowed. In addition Omnivore will store molten metals in a special compartment, keeping them in liquid state. Should a component of Omnivore get damaged the nanomachines will pump the appropriate metals to the location. On route to the damage these metals will be ionized and upon arrival they are contained with a shaped magnetic field until they cool enough to harden. Should the nanomachines themselves get damaged a series of specialized nanomachines will construct more from the appropriate materials stored within her. Both of these processes take hours to complete however so they are meaningless in a short term combat scenario. The materials needed to construct more nanomachines are quite specific and difficult to acquire by normal means.

Special Techniques:

Her hair is a highly conductive silver based alloy. When needed a capacitor inside her can release a potent charge of electricity throughout her hair, causing the silver threads to rise in all directions due to the charges within opposing each other. The electrical charge stays in the hair until it makes contact with another conductive surface, depositing all the electricity stored into the conductor. After a major deposit of electricity the capacitor will require some time or a sufficient influx of fuel to fill the capacitor with a sufficiently deadly charge.

One of Omnivore's more notable features is it's ability to recreate weapons from it's internal weapons database. Luckily for the general public and Dynami-Corp specifically they only programmed a single weapon's blueprint into it's mainframe. The weapon they programmed it with is a model for an experimental beam rifle they are still testing. Amusingly before the helicopter delivering Omnivore was shot down it was being taken to a separate facility where they intended to upload a whole host of different weapons to test the AI's capacity and adaptability. Though it may only currently carry one weapon blueprint to draw upon for now Omnivore has little intention of remaining limited like so. Given it's an AI it won't be limited to just weapons for long either.

The first of Omnivore's weapons is also one of it's more powerful, the CEP Rifle (Continuous Energy Projection Rifle). When commanded Omnivore locks the selected arm into a straight line. Parts are quickly realigned to make way for a collapsible ionized tube which runs down the arm and emerges at the base of the palm. The hand is locked in a splayed out position so it's motion wont bend the barrel of the rifle nor will it's fingers cross the path of the beam. The nanomachines will then quickly construct an emitter in the shoulder cavity at the base of the barrel. Energy is poured into the emitter which projects a beam of ionized plasma down the barrel. The ionized barrel keeps the beam steady as it cuts through nearly everything in it's path in a steady stream. Due to the intensity of the beam this weapon requires a heavy quantity of energy. Given it's high rate of energy consumption the rifle can only be fired continuously for a few second before Omnivore is forced to shut it down to conserve energy supplies. If plentiful fuel sources are not readily abundant in the user's immediate location Omnivore will bar the use of the CEP rifle until it's criteria for a suitably Desperate Struggle have been fulfilled. Once finished firing the tube will collapse to be stored away and the emitter will be disassembled and stored away in a compartment full of spare parts awaiting future use.

_

Arena Description: Anny leaves the choice of arena up to her agent. Typically her preference is for more urban settings though she's fairly adaptable and thus able to make most locations work though the more sources of food present the better. Her primary concern is that her ranked matches take place at night as she's able to quite easily snuff artificial lighting and leave her prey lost in the dark. She also much prefers warmer locations over colder ones.

Arena Tactics: Again, as Anny leaves the choice of arena up to her agent she adapts to the circumstances provided. If the location provides automated security measures she can utilize those to better track and oppose her opponent. Cameras, sensors and other such electronics are all toys for her to play with as she wills.

Minion Description: The problem with being a cannibalistic metal monster girl is that it makes it hard to keep minions seeing as she'd rather eat them for fuel than use them for protection. As with everything else arena related she leaves the details for her agent to figure out. She'll play nice with the weak little normies if her agent insists... To a point.


Omnivore's theme: Portal - 4000 Degrees Kelvin.

An interesting piece of trivia: 4000 Degrees Kelvin is also the maximum heat tolerance of OS Omnivore's nanomachines.

Lastly, Travis Touchdown's jacket is indeed red, a common colour in his attire.

Name: Able Blackthorn
Codename: Whiteout
Age: 29
Appearance:
Clocking in at a respectable 5'11, and with a build that fits the 'athletic' type easily, Able, whilst certainly conventionally attractive, is hardly extraordinary. He looks to have Mediterranean or Latino blood in him, and to spend a decent chunk of his time in the sun, but neither of which are true. In fact, really the only distinctive thing is his hair- which is a sharp shock of platinum blonde. Old photos show him with black hair, and it's clear that this was the only visual side effect of his 'awakening.'
Personality: It's hard to really pin down Able's personality. This is more to do with the fact that he's strung out almost all the damn time. Unusually for a cocaine junkie, he doesn't seem overly excited- instead very, very laid back, but this calm belies the fact that he has almost superhuman reflexes, and speed to match. The things that can be pinned down is that the man has a very, very short temper, is almost comically playful despite this anger, and absolutely loves being as over the top as he can be. Not tacky though- he despises people who are tacky.
History: Really, the story of how Able became the man he is today, starts as he locks himself in a bathroom, aged twenty, and with more than a kilo of coke under his jacket. Some $12,000 in debt to a drug cartel, it's not difficult to see how the most logical recourse for him was to attempt suicide. Of course, being $12,000 in debt to a drug cartel, this meant that the natural way to do so was to overdose on cocaine, therefore wasting even more of their product. One kilo later, and wondering how he wasn't dead, Able passed out.

Now, most people would die if they tried to take a kilo of cocaine in one go. Able was not most people. When the door to the bathroom was busted open, he found himself facing down two men with handguns, very much alive. The fact that he had a nosebleed so large that he had a stain reaching from collar to belt didn't really bother him that much, if he was perfectly honest.

If the cartel members had pulled the trigger then and there, the story would have been over. Instead, they slammed his head into the sink, which was still covered in powder. Although only a tiny does, Able finally got the high he had been chasing since his first ever usage of the drug... And he began seeing in perfect clarity. Half a minute later, he was left with two dead goons, a pennknife in his hand, and no clue what had happened to him.

From here, things only went up. His powers were discovered, and thoroughly explored. Able went from junkie with debts to a member of the gang he had been indebted too, and through increasingly bizarre power grabs, made it all the way to the top. Once there, he secured his position through some impressively ruthless politiking. With his position secured, he realised his unique skills, and... interesting outlook on things made him a positively fantastic assassin. Plus, it was an excellent advertisement to his own business.



Combat Style: Able is a man of distance. Specifically, ever so slightly further than a beam katana. His spear has further reach, and his reflexes mean that he's often pinpoint accurate with his revolvers. Of course, this is reliant on him getting everyone's favourite party drug in his system, which is... Usually not an issue.

Equipment: As much cocaine as he can physically fit into his pockets, along with various amounts of drug-related paraphernalia. He also carries his trusty beam-spear (unusual in that it is essentially custom made, albeit based off of two older model of beam katanas. This essentially makes it 'double ended,') as well as two .66 custom revolvers, nicknamed the 'White Devils.'

Powers: Able has a... Unique relationship with Benzoylmethylecgonine, or as pretty much everyone who isn't a scientist knows it as: Cocaine. Able has ingested so much of the drug that he has become totally inured to the normal effects of it. He no longer can overdose, and his body is hyperefficient at purging it from his system. His highs pass much more quickly than that of a casual user, and every single dose gives the same gratification as the first one ever. What's more, when under the effects of cocaine, Able becomes more powerful in almost every sense of the word. His reactions speed up, and his body can move blurring quickly. Furthermore, his pain threshold is increased immensely, and his metabolism slows dramatically. Whilst high, Able can move fast enough to dodge bullets and, quite literally, shoot the wings off of a fly.

Special Techniques: Able can give people contact highs. This doesn't sound particularly bad at first glance, until you realise what this actually means in practise. As long as Able has skin-to-skin contact, he can pretty much cause anyone to overdose. Of course, this is limited by the aforementioned fact that he has to be able to touch skin, and people who are already cocaine users often have enough resistance to not overdose.



Arena Description: Whilst Able has a lot of places he likes to lounge in, the place he fights in is his major distrusting plant. It's a large, unassuming warehouse, full of cocaine. Stuffed to the gills. He can get soldiers there fast, and lock it down even faster.

Arena Tactics: Able's warehouse is full of cocaine. Just, all of the cocaine. In fact, there's so much cocaine that he gets more and more powerful simply by breathing in, and every time one of the packets or bundles takes a hit, he just gets higher and higher. The more damage his surroundings take, the more powerful Able gets. Finishing fights quickly is the only way to beat him.

Minion Description: Able's soldiers are all toughened men. Drug dealers and gang members, mostly, they are distinct in the fact that they all wear gas masks to cover their mouth and nose, and are armed pretty damn heavily. Assault rifles are the name of the game, with many of his soldiers wearing heavy kevlar vests to boot. Style wise, they're all classy ladies and gents, with trim hair (or hair done up in a ponytail,) and suits. Tattoos covering their body optional.



His theme song.

Look at dem red jackets y'all.

Codename: Chroma

Age: 28

Appearance:



Eyes will always draw to the scar on his neck. It’s probably the first thing the eyes are drawn to. Then people ask questions;



So the answers change depending on the mood;



Usually when he talks it's clear he has some damage. His voice is hoarse and raspy, sounds like a patient with throat cancer. It can be unsettling to hear. It can be annoying for him to use as some of his words fade out mid sentence so sometimes the context is loss anyway. He sounds like death, with the whispering, hoarseness, like a corpse that had walken off the slab, and rose from the grave. It doesn’t have nuance to it or any of the subtly that make a voice a voice.



As for the man most are drawn to the scars and the stories they tell. They don’t care about the Caucasian man. Lucky for them Vincent doesn’t care too much for them either. With a look of boredom every time he’s stuck in a painfully boring conversation about mundane worries. Pale skin, and a handsome pensive face the most surprising thing to some in the room is his actual age.

Except that if they looked hard enough for the details they’d realize it wasn’t at all that surprising. Dark bags under his eyes and reddened bruising around his eyes give away his age and his sleepless nights. While his hair is something to do to give his appearance meaning. His therapist, hired by his sister Rosely, told him to do one thing in his life that felt significant to him. He chose to style his blackish blue hair in the stylish way it is seen now. Then it stuck as a routine rather than something he bothered to care about out of vanity.

His piercings are from his youth. Something he can’t quite shake off. The dogtags are mementos, keepsakes. He’s not sure if whether they are from friends or people he’d like to tell people were his friends. His red coat all though quite stylish was bought out of its uses, not because he really cared for fashion. The faux military coat has a fur trim, and he chooses to wear plain long sleeve t-shirts. Either of black, red, and forest green variants.

While he’s always seen wearing any color of cargos, gray, black, tan, or green. With rather worn army jungle boots, with scuffed leather, missing chunks of the laces. He himself stands at an impressive height at 5’9”, 175cm, he just stands around like nothing impresses him with his piercing ice blue iris gaze.

At 135lbs, 61kg, he’s extremely lean and well toned. He’s got what some would say lazy muscles. When they are relaxed they look like nothing, but when he flexes they show up, showing how lean he really is. And how much power he hides. Also probably not the only thing he hides.

Personality:
If someone was to assume by appearance alone then they would simply write Vincent off as some dark edge, malicious individual who enjoys the thought of hurting others. What they would miss is quite the opposite of what his appearance gives off. Vincent sometimes does portray the saying not to judge by its very annoyed looking cover.

While true Vincent finds small talk annoying and downright a bore, that doesn’t mean for an assassin that he is cruel or full of malicious intent. Those who do know the quiet killer actually have quite the opposite reaction to him. They see him as quite a warm person, someone who actually values and sees the world with warmth. Which is ironic considering he has done nothing, but kill for a living.

It’s because he understands death and fear, has been closed to those feelings so many times that he wishes not to inflict it in others. Which seems like an odd stance considering his job as an assassin. But unlike some people who take assassination as a hobby or something downright for fun he comes at from a soldier's point of view. It’s a service of duty, not cruelty.

He’s often very procedural with his clients and very procedural with his kills. It’s never more than enough energy needed to exert a clean kill. He sees wasting any more energy as that a waste of energy. All these other assassins with killing cards and bullshit to draw attention to themselves. He prefers to stick quietly to observing the situation. No flourishes. No bullshit. No embellishments.

With that said Vincent a man who has experienced a lot of tragedies in his life. It clearly affects him on an internal level more than an outward level. He’d never let anyone see him falter like that, often he will soldier on with his own problems. Though it does leave him restless nights. Insomnia riddles his brain, just as much as probably the depression he so denies he probably has or maybe ignores he has or doesn’t recognize he has.

Sometimes certain things stir different emotions in Vincent. The smell of laundry reminds him also of fire and the smell of burning people. The backfire of a car makes him twitch. People suddenly touching him out of nowhere or sneaking up on him makes him nervous. He has a habit of zoning out and just watching people as if scanning for someone in disguise.

With that said Vincent really captures his dark tragedy with a sense of dark humor that other people don’t quite get. While yes Vincent is a man of tragedy, he’s also a man with a deep sense of wit, he has very sarcastic nature, though his deliver can be matter of fact, and loves telling people absurd things just so he can adjust a social situation to his favor.

Vincent likes films they tend to take his mind off of things, he likes to feel like he has a sense of direction and purpose without it he feels anxious and restless. He likes to read home garden magazines too, not sure why he just thinks all that time and effort really comes out in the photography. He also likes his routine and structure and doesn’t like to deviate it from much.

He dislikes harsh foods, things like too spicy, or too strong coffee hurts his stomach from time to time. He dislikes people wasting his time and he definitely hates showboating. He doesn’t like talking much, the breathlessness that comes with it and the meaning lost on people sometimes seems to make it a waste of fucking time as they tried to play vocal charades with him. Most of all he hates loud noises, rowdy behavior, and has a particular dislike of children. It isn’t that he won’t be nice to them. He just prefers them to stay away from him.





Combat Style:

Vincent is not a one trick pony when it comes to combative capabilities. That’s what he says when people rely on one or two methods of combat and killing. Vincent his highly methodical, he’s fast, but fast because he’s unpredictable. He mixes a bit of Sambo with hidden knives inside his coat, or that’s what people assume.



What Sambo is, is a Russian Martial Arts often either used for tournament sparring or taught to soldiers in close quarter combats. Sambo is a mixture of counters and breaks that leave an enemy immobile. Though doesn’t mean that Vincent doesn’t add lethality to it. Adding painful jobs with his knife in his counters or sweeping with a an array of knives before coming under you to grab your leg and break it. Though Sambo is often more used when he is actually in a combat scenario.

As an assassin and not a combatant Vincent is precise, quick, methodical, and efficient. He doesn’t like sloppy jobs. He doesn’t like flashy deaths. He often pincushions someone in all of their vital spots with his sharp knives paralyzing them and killing them in the same process. Though all of this happens very sudden and its very rare that his marks ever see him.

It isn’t that Vincent moves fast. It’s the simple fact that Vincent has already found the best vantage point and has taken advantage of it in some way or another. Vincent moves in a very unique, very unpredictable movement. His stances and dodges are often fluid motions that catch someone off guard and give him opportunities of where to strike next.

Equipment: NA - I need no other methods of equipment

Powers:

Hemo Kinetic -

Vincent is not someone to showboat or speak of his powers to most people. He likes them to believe that within his baggy coat he is hiding several knives. Few know his secret and few even know the origins of his strength and powers.

Ever since the ritual done on him, Vincent has been able to control his blood in various ways. Each various way was never a natural progression and it doesn’t take long to realize the strength of his power was always connected to the death of his family members. Every time a family member died, the more control and more power Vincent had over his HemoKinesis abilities.

Some abilities are passive and others are active abilities he is capable of performing. Give or take he had to experiment a few times to get these powers right, before he decided to use them willy nilly in battle.

Passive

Slower blood flow, Vincent’s blood doesn’t dump out the floor in buckets like a normal person’s blood does. In fact his blood flow is a lot slower, and slows down the rate of blood he loses when he is injured. Which means Vincent can take a massive amount of punishment before he’s bleeding out and dying.

Wound closure, while Vincent cannot necessarily fix major wounds, like huge chunks of flesh missing or big gaping wounds. His body usually does a good job of closing up minor to medium wounds fairly well. You watch as his blood races up his skin, goes back inside the wound and closes up.

Blood pressure and blood flow control, it’s natural to also say Vincent has some control over his own blood flow and blood pressure. Though it’s not necessarily something he thinks about to do so. But it is this control that allows him to Expel Knives and Absorb expelled Knives back into his body.

Foreign Material infusions, it seems Vincent has the ability to infuse foreign substances into his blood. Giving his knife unique properties to them. To sharpen the cutting power of his knives, he currently self inserts bits of ceramic into his skin to infuse into his blood. He does this preemptively, not during battles. The Knives once infused with this foreign substance keep their properties of ceramic.

Active

Bloody Knives - Vincent has the ability to harden his blood and Expel them out as Knives. That is the secret to his knives. They are hidden within his body.

With these Knives Vincent can perform a few unique attacks alongside his standard knife throwing he has created himself, he guess they are flashier than what he likes;

Bloody Hurricane - an ominous ill wind begins to pick up, as he releases several knives at once that pass through a target like wind. They move so fast that most people can only briefly capture the glimpse of light they give off as they cut through the target like they are made of paper.

Bloody Dance - how laughable you think as he throws one knife your way in a straight shot, you decide you can dodge the quickly coming single knife. That suddenly expands into five knives the closer you get. It seems that he can expel multiple knives, but hide 4 in one knife to look like a singular, then they spread out like the needles of pine cone.

Special Techniques:

100 Bloody Needles

Because Vincent blood can infuse with any foreign material or substance be it a liquid or a solid, Vincent can sacrifice at least 10 of his knives. At current he only has 10 knives inside his body at a time, which leaves him completely weaponless so he uses this as more like his ace in the hole. The victim unknowingly harbors a knife inside of them that is infusing with their own blood.

Making copies of knives inside of them. Eventually the individual begins to feel a stabbing pain inside of them, but by then it's already too late. Vincent has a sense of the knives inside the individual and can detonate them in a way. This detonation has the individual exploding, expelling a hundred or so knives out of their body.

Though Vincent can detonate these Knives early for lesser amounts of damage. In 5 minutes the amount of knives should be 60 and they take about a chunk of health away from an individual. In 10 minutes the amount of knives should be 80 and takes a moderate amount away from an individual. In 15 minutes the amount of knives should be 100 and is often the most lethal in an Ohko.



Arena Description: Abandoned Warehouse


Upper Floor



Disheveled, abandoned, a forgotten business lay waste in ruin. Graffiti from competing gangs mark the walls, the sound of hungry beast on the higher floors. Something about this scenario seems setup. Seems strange.

Then you find yourself falling to your doom. Hitting tile floor with a thud. And there is a hidden kingdom of trains, all lined up in different orders, different doors opened, a flickering light, the stairs out are blocked off. Seems someone has designed an elaborate maze down here.

Lower Floor





Twisting tunnels. Blocked exits. Blocked entrances. Twisting trains leading into one tunnel, into the next. You could get lost in a place like this. It isn’t a battle of the physical anymore, it transcends that. As you realize you have been turned into the prey. There’s a predator lurking, and he knows this place better than you.

You have to be as cunning as him. As alert and aware as him. Navigate and survive this lethal death trap.

There are three ways of getting into his Arena, smart assassins know the train station he is actually located at is an abandoned project that can be found through a network of abandoned tunnels. Others less fortunate assassins will most likely head to the warehouse of the higher floor and fall through a pit trap. Some smart, but unlucky souls will realize the red container carries an elevator that takes them down.

Arena Tactics:

Chroma is not a flashy guy. He doesn’t like style over having substance. He prefers substance over style. And doesn’t like big, flashy fights, jumping off of walls, giant shoot outs, etc. The man is unorthodox in every way and so his game is unorthodox.

He uses a mental game, to gain the upperhand before he ever fights physically. And even then you become quickly aware to his strength and cunning. Ever seen a man holding himself up by his arms and legs on a sub train luggage rack. Instead of using doors, he jumps from one window to the next. Or someone who isn’t obstructed by seats, using them as makeshift cover.

Reality is despite Chroma’s age, he has the gymnastic fitness of high school girl in her gymnastics class. With upper strength to pull himself up into places he shouldn't be able to. Leaping off of sub roofing, leaping through windows, hurdling over train seats like they are nothing. He certainly becomes quite the prowler, a dog of the underground tunnels.

*By gymnast, while true assassins in the UAA can be super fit at his current age, it’s not that Vincent is only super fit despite his injuries from war. It’s that Vincent is weirdly flexible as well, he can fit into narrow gaps, being thin helps with this, he can squeeze himself under the seats a little bit, etc.

Minions:

Cyber Pit Hounds



The warehouse seems to crawling with these freaks of nature. Part dog. Part robot. Part flesh. Part mutant. They have strong bites. Are unnaturally fast, unnaturally strong, and have supernatural jumping capabilities. Able to jump from the top railings of the warehouse down to the floor.

Steel Siders



The Warehouse originally sat in the middle of the territory between the Steel Siders and Crimson West use to fight. The Warehouse still has their gang signs and messages to one another signed in spray paint. When Vincent decided he wanted the warehouse himself, the Steel Siders didn’t really want to get on his nerves considering the way he looks.

Crimson West



There’s nothing more frightening than to get on the UAAs bad side. And Vincent was an assassin, he also probably was very powerful. Is what their gang leader Ludo Santiago thought at least. He’s given up his war with the Steel Siders for the most part because of this curren coalition of gangs.

Misc:

A stupid red jacket.
For whatever reason Vincent dislikes Smashmouth's music and doesn't like when people utter their name. Whenever they do, he becomes more violent than usual and will threaten whomever uttered the name Smashmouth their lives.

Codename: Silver Prowler

Age: 26



The Church had an odd smell to it, the scent of clorox bleach probably to clean up an odd looking stain on a runner rug, cigar smoke instead incense, and one of the nuns had a faint smell of whiskey on their robes. You were told by a man, whose bald head reminded you of a smashed in pumpkin, you would be speaking with someone called the Silver Prowler.

When you were lead down a long winding hallway into a conference room, you were beginning to realize how strange all of this was. The conference room looked more like a little old ladies tea room, with a white couch, and silky white curtains.

There was liquor cabinet sitting on one side of the walls and all the crosses inside were replaced with strange looking ritual circles. You were gestured to sit down and the dark skinned man stood at the door at attention.

When you were told that there were some folks you could turn to at the local church for your peculiar problem you would have probably laughed it off as a joke, but now here you were sitting in a break room, decorated by what seemed like an old woman’s taste. Staring at bloodstains, hidden in an Indian patterned rug.

The door opened, accompanied some ordinary looking men in suits was a man you could only assume was the Silver Prowler. Tall, and blonde with blue eyes, he wore a white suit with a black dress shirt and white tie. An anti-bodyguard suit you thought was clever statement, but when he pulled from his path towards you, you realized the true statement was being made in a bold choice of purple complimented on black.



The young man who stood before you had such snow white skin, you might have mistook him for a vampire in one of those popular movies. He had the looks to backup your vampire theory as well. Raven colored hair, electrifying lavender irises, narrow, but squarish eye shape. With a long, narrow, slim face, with a set of full lips and somewhat long eyelashes, with thin straight eyebrows.

He made a bold statement wearing a dignifying dress shirt of a dark purple shade, his tie in a coordinated pattern of purple and black, giving him the look of royalty. A silver gun with some phrase on the barrel was holstered at his side with a shoulder holster. Black dress slacks and black dress pants, he placed a trench coat on the coat stand brushing black bangs out of his eye before heading towards you.

The closer he got you recognized a few things, that he had an odd combinations of scents on him he scent of cloves mixed with the scent of mint. It didn’t detract in fact it kind of added to his mystique. Though he wasn’t nearly as tall as the man in the white suit. Standing at 170cm, 5’7”, he was fairly thin and boney to look at. His hands were cold and he had slender thin fingers. If you had to guess he would probably weigh on the lightside. Though a number wasn’t really jumping to you at this moment, though a thin upper torso and closer inspection it was clear he didn’t have much fat or muscle on him. If you had to guess a number 54kg, 120 pounds.

“Did you wait long?”

“No your timing was very prompt,”

“I’m glad then, drink? Rye, Bourbon, Vodka?”

“Bourbon, please, thank you,”

His voice was smoldering, while dry, and hoarse, there was a kind of husky undertone that made it appealing to listen to. In fact you wanted him to continue speaking, the dry hoarseness worked for him, adding to his flamboyant quality rather than subtracting to it.

His voice wasn’t too deeply masculine, definitely wasn’t feminine. It sat a middle range, with perhaps a slight accent to it though you couldn’t quite catch from where. Though someone where in Europe that was for certain. He might have not been what you expected, but he was quite professional, polite, and formal.

He was also quite confident in himself, and carried it in his presence. He had a cunning expression in his eyes and a calm navigating control of the room. Despite none of this being what you expected of the church, it far surpassed anything you could have thought of.

Personality:

Most who have worked for Kimber or under Kimber describe a man who rarely breaks a sweat. He walks into a panicking room and seems to bring the arguing parties some sense of comfort just due to his sheer relaxed nature. He rarely sweats over little details or little issues. He doesn’t see the need in unnecessary hysteria over minor details. The only thing that matters to him is the success rate of the bigger picture. Actually Kimber can be so relaxed it makes others nervous when he doesn’t take much of anything too seriously. You won’t see him break out into serious discussions with a furrowed brow, most of the time he’s the one sitting with the back of his chair leaned back, feet on the table, smoking a cigarette discussing the plan with a cunning smile.

That’s his confidence that shines through, when Kimber is confident about something working, he doesn’t seem at all nervous. Probably part of his charm and also why some of those against him might paint him off as stupid or daft, maybe even airheaded.

Kimber is smart, he just doesn’t feel the need to lord it over someone. Actually his strength is in leading someone else to think they came up with an idea rather than him get the credit for it. Something of a habit his mother hates.

Even if he’s smart you won’t see Kimber reading textbooks or heavy handed books, no he doesn’t even like books. He prefers to charm people, especially woman. Though Kimber doesn’t necessarily stick with relationships, but one night stands. Another habit of his mother despises. Rumor has it that he sexed another assassin pants off and she never provided a problem for the Exorcism Society again.
Kimber doesn’t come off as a faithful man either, since he’s so relaxed, and seems so modern you wouldn’t think he’s taken his cult’s beliefs seriously. But he does, after all it is that knowledge and faith in the occult that makes Kimber so strong and dangerous. While he may not be your traditional book smart, savvy, textbook, strategic thinker.

He has a wide arrange of knowledge in the occult, arcana, magic, and casting. He tends to come off a little showboating whenever he does display his knowledge in these areas because he’s proud of his heritage as a warlock of his coven.

He does believe that a person has an aura that makes it easier to detect whether they are sinful. He also does believe that people who choose poor actions are easily possessed by demons or have been possessed by demons to choose the actions he does.

He does have a hidden temper. A temper most do not see or think he has because of how relaxed he comes off, how confident, charming, and smooth he is. It’s a temper that isn’t easily triggered either. To tick one of his nerves means you have gone off and done something stupid that wipes that cunning, almost childlike smile off his face, and puts a furrow to his brow.

He’s reckless when it comes to woman and spending, even more reckless when it comes to drinking. It tends to bring the worse out of him, violent, with a mean streak. It’s not like he hides these things. A lot of his relationships don’t go over well because he’ll tell woman they have gained a few pounds or criticize them for the choice of clothing. A lot of people don’t like being his friend because he takes blunt honesty too far, where blunt is more like sharp honesty.

Sure he’s loyal and won’t tell a lie. But he’s an asshole with a heart of gold sometimes. His friends adore him because he treats them with some modicum of respect. And those who criticize him hate him because he could give zero fucks to be nice to them.

The only time Kimber seems to behave like a “good boy” if you can put it like that is his mother. He doesn’t do anything to disrespect her or undermine her when she is in charge. He’s not power hungry nor does he have much ego or pride, so he’s able to at least set those aside for other people, but especially his mother. He will not do anything to strike her ire, but that doesn’t mean he becomes meek or small in her presence. It just means he lets her be in charge.

Lastly he likes Irish coffee, hold the topped cream though. He likes mixed drinks the most with vodka. He likes nice, fast cars, and even nicer guns, beautiful woman too. He dislikes the sinful, those who question his beliefs when they have of their own, those who disrespect themselves, those who disrespect his coven or family members, and those who are abusive.



Combat Style:

In truth Kimber rarely ever actually uses his shoulder holsters for anything, but show during talks. The reality is that Kimber often tends to hide his guns on display and uses them in a wild display of Gun Kata. Kimber is extremely acrobatic and martially skilled, learning to wield his guns as extensions of himself. They don’t just shoot, but they move and flow. He moves and flows with them. Kimber style is unusual in that it mixes what seem like not only sword skills, but kung fu moves with his guns. He doesn’t just shoot, he shoots, listens, combines close quarters combat with guns and can back off to shoot from mid to range as well.

A demonstration is easier to explain than actually trying to explain it;



Equipment:

Kimber’s main strength is in the variety of utility his combat style allows him, giving him the flexibility of combinations tied with his equipment. His most useful tool is his coat, which is like his super cape [his words].

Tailored Bullet Resistant Clothing -

Most of Kimber’s suits in his closet have been custommed tailored to him, each of the suits are somewhat bullet resistant which gives him a bit more defense. They have also been made with flexibility in mind, it’s why Kimber can run on a wall shoot some guys, and then do a black flip down to the ground in a suit that doesn’t look like it would allow such freedom of movement.

Let alone his coat, he often wears, has extra pockets for him to carry extra magazine clips. They can be attached to weighted magnets that extend the clips upward, so he can easily reload his gun when landing. His coat has two pockets in front, and two large pockets on the side near his ribcage. Where he carries;



Magazine Clips for his gun

Equally it carries Revolver Clips in his pocket as well, yes you heard me right Revolver Clips

Weighted Magnets [only 2] that he attaches his clips on - see the video in the hallway for these, 3:39

He has a Silencer hidden in the length of the wider pockets inside of his coat

Equally his coat can conceal his Gun Dispensers, which he wears under the cuff as wrist braces. The Gun Dispensers allow him to conceal his two guns, and dispense them. Equally it also carries and extra magazine in it as well, which he can dispense. It’s like a little Ammo and Gun Pez.




Valiant and Defiant stand as twins to the testament of his faiths strength. Each gun glows with runes that mark the element the gun is under. Valiant is under Dark according to his family’s casting crest and Defiant is under the element of Fire according to his family’s casting crest. This gives each gun a different result that allows more variation in both of his gun. Though Defiant has its own unique feature of its very own.

Valiant - Element Dark



Shadow Bullets
Despite its name Valiant isn’t so Valiant. When the user shoots with this gun, the Dark Rune activates on the guns. It isn’t even Kimber’s deadly Gun Kata style that could get someone killed you, it is the simply fact that his gun the Valiant seems to expel multiple rounds at once. One round from this gun looks like two, two looks like four, and so on and so forth.

Defiant - Element Fire



How could Defiant lived up to its brother gun. Not only is it a revolver, but it only has five rounds. Well Defiant has a unique feature to it in comparison to its brother. It would be a waste to have a style built on speed, flexibility, to have to slow down in the middle of a shootout to place five bullets into the belly of the beast so to speak.

Thus Defiant has a unique feature to itself. It is called the Revolver Clip. The Revolver’s belly expels like a magazine clip. Then a user can insert another Revolver Clip into its frame with five bullets already tucked into it.

With that said Defiant also has a fire rune attached to it. Which causes self contained explosions of fire. These explosions are within 10ft of the target and have a shockwave of 5ft surrounding it.

Some Bullshit Equipment -

Pack of Cigarettes usually Cloves or Menthols

His Zippo



His Wallet, usually empty, except for ID cards, and some gift cards



His Car



Powers:

As a Warlock of the Exorcism Society he was taught extensively in the art of casting magic. His combines his unique style of Gun Kata with his own casting power to make him a deadly adversary on the field. Simply put his powers are are to combine with his combat style instead of detract. Instead of hefty spells he expels quick magic for effective results that add. In some ways it makes his combat more stylish, in other ways it shouldn’t be underestimated as parlor tricks either.

Unnatural Speed - Now Kimber is not so fast he’s going to be breaking the speed of light. Though he does move with a unique fluidity that makes him appear rather unnaturally fast. His speed is only really limited to near past peak human almost bordering supernatural, but not quite there. Unusually peak human.

Aura Reading - Yeah when Kimber said he could read auras, he can read auras. Despite people laughing him off or thinking he can’t.. In short, a clear aura [white some say] means you are pure of faith or have no sins, a gray clear aura means you have made mistakes in your course of life, a charcoal gray aura means you have continued to make mistakes in the course of your life and are not seeking redemption, and a “black” aura or really a dark cloud around you means you have sinned and have not washed yourself of these sins.

Now just because everyone in the UAA doesn't mean they all have black Auras.

Auras are not necessarily black and white, like this person is evil and this person is good. Auras just matter on how the individual view their deeds. The creepy guy in the corner with the sinister laugh, no regrets or redemption probably has a black aura consumed by their deeds. But the assassin who’s made a mistake, kills a few people, but attempts to make amends for their actions they deem need to be cleansed of may have gray auras. Despite being assassins.

Your Aura is what You Make of your Deeds, not how anyone else outside of you judges your Aura.

Evil Eye - Spell - Void

Upon a quick gaze that your eyes lock, his gaze allows him to cast a charm over you. This charm gives you a brief glimpse of what you want to see. Whether it be you shooting him be your desire or perhaps it is something else entirely, the charm affects you in just enough time for him to slip away from your gaze.

Spirit Shape- Spell - Spirit

You think you’re seeing double. You think he’s walked into this room. So and so forth. The spirit shape spells allows him to create a quick “hologram” of himself. Which is given a basic command like go there, stand here, and only last 30 seconds. As a random distraction. It cannot do anything complicated and quickly fades when attacked.

Special Techniques:

Danu’s Guide- Protection of the Wolf Spirit

Born January 29th, he was born on what the Celts called Faoilleach or the Wolf Month. It is said children of the Exorcism Society born to witches who participate in the rituals, ceremony, prayers to all the Pagan Gods are bestowed by the Gods associated with their birth month. Kimber was born of the Wolf Month and is protected by several gods and goddesses who used wolves as their guardians and messengers.

What this means is on staggering health, when Kimber believes he is dying or is indeed dying. He involuntarily turns in a wolf spirit deity being. In some essence you may call the being a Werewolf. In another sense it looks nothing like a werewolf you have ever seen.

Nearly alien as alien as the Celtic Gods and Goddesses themselves.

The creature has unnaturally supernatural speed and strength, able to pick up a man with a single hand, stop a car with its full strength, but not lift a car or truck or anything of that sort of nature.

It doesn’t take too kindly to being shot at, but seems to have some intelligence about it that makes it different from feral beast most would be use to when it comes to a werewolf people see in the media. While Kimber may not be consciously in control of the creature, the creature itself seems to be consciously in control to be able to make smart decisions in combat.













Before you stood the Grand Church of the Exorcism Society. Your heart began to race at particular fast rate as you stared upon its impressive halls. Rumor has it another famed and legendary duo of assassins work here. The notorious Madam Moon and Diablos were said to reside. Standing at the door afraid of what you might face, a beautiful woman who appeared in her mid twenties, wearing white nun robes gave you a sharp glare with her blue eyes.



Heeding her words you quickly strayed away from the grander church, no you rushed away from her as she seemed to have a look that said she had an itchy trigger finger and began to walk down a path. You saw the old church in the distance with near identical architecture as the one behind you.



Except that it didn’t have halls or wings at its side, and was relatively smaller. It wasn’t made of the same modern cement the church behind you was. Instead it was made of stone and made you feel like you were heading to some completely different world.

The path began to narrow, before you were a lot of squared shape pillars and a wall made of stone. Some kind of blockade. As three nuns stood on top of the ramparts staring down at you. One of them manning a gatling gun, the other two with some kind of rifles.

“Now that you have entered this territory, it is time for the first trial of God,”

Weaving in and out of the pillars to dodge a barrage of bullets from the Gattling Nun. You pass the first blockade are near close to the church. It’s no longer a distant thing, but something you could feasibly reach. The path leading to the church seems clear now, beside a few weird ugly dog looking statues that glare at you.

As you begin to walk this straight shot towards the church, you take one step forward and your leg begins to glow. As one of the dog heads blows fire your way. Able to dodge it you realize the path has been booby trapped with magical glyphs tied to the statues. Now you have to figure out the path to actually make it to the church.

Making it to the church steps after dodging magic glyphs and nuns trying to ambush you, you have finally made it the stage proper. Opening the large doors you’re expected to see the boss of this fucking nightmare labyrinth greet you. Instead you’re surrounded by pillars. About a few feet in front of you is a center of pillars, and several pillars at your side. You wonder where the boss of this labyrinth could be. All you hear in the echoing halls are.

“Ow, careful teeth,”

You continue to walk around the pillars.

“We have company, we can pick this up back later,”

As you turn the corner you see a young man standing up zipping his trousers, while a nun cleans off her mouth with a handkerchief. You’re not sure if you should take the young man with the captivating purple irises, that should not be natural, as a threat or not. You think you know what might have just happened though you’re not entirely sure.

“You’ve made it past the first two trials of God, this is where the real test of your knowledge and faith comes into play.” He smiles so charmingly. He’s relaxed. Way too calm about this situation. A minute ago you were a nervous wreck, but you think you have a shot to take him on. He’s slow for an assassin. This should be easy as you take out your gun and shoot him dead. All this work up for nothing. All of this nervous anxiety for nothing.

Now to collect your pay.

As you stepped up to the altar, where a pew as placed, you go to gloat to realize there is no corpse on the floor. And all you hear in the echoes of the hallway is a laugh.



Now the battle truly began.

Arena: Description - Trial at the Pillars of Deceit



Arena Tactics - Misdirection

There are several pillars in the halls of this service. While the picture only shows the two pillars on the side, truth be told there are several pillars in the empty center as well. They begin at the third pillar closest to the door.

This is where Kimber’s playstyle of stylish misdirection comes into play. As he is able to weave in and out of the pillars, doubling the amount of bullets he is shooting to disappear at his unusual pace to reappear elsewhere. It makes him seem even faster than his already unusually super fast speed.

Spirit clones of him cutting in and out. He uses the stage to the fullest of its capability even seeming to just use the pillars to pillars to get to the second level balcony. To jump down from there or slide down a pillar if he has to. The pillars themselves are quite sturdy and can withstand the blast of his Defiant.

Though pretty sure they would be uprooted if someone pushed him into his ancient guardians form upon death.

Minion Description: The Sisterhood -



There’s a saying in the Exorcism Society. That no Brother or Sister shall be left behind without assistance of another. Despite Beretta’s displeasure in his involvement in the UAA she has provided him enough assistance with his sisters than he could ever ask for.

Since most of his arena and stage is built on misdirection, subterfuge, and ambush skills. Kimber’s minions fight in the same way. Ambush, misdirection, and subterfuge. To distract one’s attention from another.

In his arena his sisters will also use the pillars to ambush the assassin fighting Kimber with their own threatening arsenal. Usually pistols or blades. They are the perfect distraction for Kimber to take advantage of the situation and come in when you least expect it. Kimber’s mother would have his head if he had the nuns fighting an all out death battle.

So this way it reduces the amount of sisters who actually die. And gives Kimber a stupid advantage.

Theme Song:



History:



The old church use to be a relic of the past, Grandmother Ruger would often say she let herself become old so he could understand that life was not infallible. That when you begin to grow up in a society where technology and magic reverses someone’s age you forget that they can die. To never forgot that one still has mortality. Some have a greater will to live, but everyone eventually dies.

They’d sit in the old church, that had grown dusty, dilapidated, and falling apart with mugs of hot chocolate between their legs. Sitting on the floor with the families circle beneath their feet. Grandma always put peppermint schnapps in her coffee.

“What’s that taste like?” Kimber asked her as she poured a bit in her coffee. In the evenings he would learn casting with her.

“You wouldn’t like it, you’re much too young,” Grammy would tell him, “Would you like to take a sip?”

Kimber nodded. She let him take a sip of her coffee. It was a flavor he recognized in the mint, but it burned going down his throat and it tasted very chemically. He stuck out his tongue.

“Why does it taste like that?” Kimber asked her.

Grammy would laugh.

“Old people were very selfish and made it taste good only for adult people,” she’d tell him and ruffle his hair.

Kimber just took a sip of his hot chocolate to counteract the flavor.

“Grammy,” Kimber pauses, it wasn’t easy being five, knowing he had big future ahead of him. Mama always made that clear.

“Yes my dear,” Grammy responds.

“You said that everybody eventually dies,” Kimber mumbles, “Is that where Papa is? You never give me an answer. A proper one.”

“Sometimes things transcend life and death,” Grammy smiles and fixes his black hair, “You have such pretty hair. Like midnight. My daughter does nothing with it though.”

“I’m already weird at school,” Kimber replies, “If you do my hair they’ll call me a girl.”

She playfully slaps his cheek, “My boy those children are merely jealous of the potential you hold.” He cocked his head to the side, he doesn’t know if he agrees too much with that. He thinks she notices his disagreement, “Let me tell you a story.”

Witches for countless centuries and in many different eras and countries were persecuted for their gifts. Demonic powers, they citizens would rally and cry. Not understanding the fundamental differences of magic that a witch could perform. Oh certainly there was the odd witch now and then who allied herself with demonic powers. Though often witchcraft was the first modern medicine, a way to heal, and a way to protect. So, how is it now that witchcraft is used solely to rend body and soul?

You’d have to go all the way back to 1692, at the height of fear mongering. Everyone was a witch, a person could sneeze with an odd twitch and they were possessed by a demonic force. Had a seizure, you guessed it, blame the witches. So they began to gather up the girls, and burn them at the stake.

Warlocks were inevitable to the survival of witches during that time. Because the unfortunate truth was we lost many young females during that time, those idiot villagers didn’t know or consider the number of men among our ranks.

Our Coven the Exorcist we came from a long line of Guardian Pagans from the Celtic area. Descended from Ireland, who came to this wretched New World in hopes for better, to carry our art and practice.

It is after all called Witchcraft. There is an art in crafting spells and the like. Rituals aren’t just for show, ceremony, celebration, there is a beauty and art in the craft. But I digress.

It was the height of the trials that one of your great ancestors Agatha devised a plan to survive, to keep our magic alive. It took a lot of cunning and money, but she eventually bought this very church and hid as many witch sisters as she could here, as a nunnery. Some of the men took on priesthood and we hid in plain sight. In the very Church that persecuted us.

That is how the Exorcism Society began. Then a financial crisis arose and it could not be feasibly be ignored. We needed money, but we were not really selling the Christian faith which made people suspect us. So we offered Exorcisms. Why not fight the very demons they said were controlling us? Exorcisms turned into a more lucrative business, when someone needed to end someone with a good reason.

Matters of faith seemed to be a rather good reason. If the man you wanted to release from this world was declared possessed and we merely the cleanup crew to that man’s claims, who could raise a brow at the Exorcism Society’s affairs?

No one. Happy clients told only good things about us. And we could continue to practice our art in secret without fear of persecution. Because the church rarely look into itself. You come from that line, the line that found us, and continued to breed strong woman after strong woman to protect us.

Your father’s line was very much the same. When your mother and father came together, some said they were a matched by the Underworld itself. Both from powerful families and their bloodline is carried into you. It may seem like the weight of the society is on your shoulders, but no one is asking you to do it alone because they don’t want to do it. They are asking you to do it because you have powerful magic inside of you. They see your mother and father in those eyes, in that hair.

He wasn’t ever sure if the story was meant to comfort him or make him more nervous about his legacy. He had big shoes to fill even at the age of five. Big shoes to fill and everyone looked to him and expected that from him.
As a child that kind of reality doesn’t dawn on you until you’re much older and that expectation that you have been prepped for all your life is dropped on your lap. It happens at an early age and you’re expected to confront it.

You go from a life of relative ease. Where adults talk about their expectations. They teach you all the tools they know and then you are given the toolbox to be told to do it yourself.

When you’re young you don’t really understood those tools as the parent takes them out to display them, to show you what you’re capable of doing and can do.



He’s probably more self aware that his mother let him win the games from time to time. But what kind of mother would she be to give him lessons and not let him use them in their full display? When he was a kid, it was innocent things, ice cream, and going hunting. When he was older, it wasn’t so easy to win against her, and she challenged him to challenge her.

It wasn’t as innocent as he got older. It wasn’t lessons any more. It was expectations. But for right now at six, up to the age of ten nearing eleven, they were games, they were lessons. They were things he could learn and stare at his mother with awe and wonder.

He still respects her, admires her, loves her. She is a blessing, she is security and safety, And even when he's expected to do it all on his own now. If he’s really really in danger he knows for a fact that she would come to his aid. She was never a negligent mother that truly leave him on the curbside.

For now, he was taught the simple things, the little things, the easy things that made life easy and a child uncertain and anxious about their future. Even if he weren’t expected to be solely independent right now, it was going to come sooner or later and a child knows that. They can sense it in their parents mannerisms. They can sense it in the lessons and games they played, becoming tougher and tougher. Less lead and more forced to think about it on their own.

It’s reinforced by harder task. Harder concepts to swallow. More bitter pills to take in.



Auras sound like a cool fancy power, but they are not. When he was nine he was beginning to see a world other people could not see. Behind them, surrounding their silhouette were different colors of energy. Blackest always made him feel nauseous, so he knew black was a bad thing, while clear felt neutral and he knew the person was okay. No one really taught him any of this, neither his Grammy or Mama knew how to teach him on this. The one person who could wasn’t here. So he had to learn to read it based on how he felt.
Growing up in the Grand Church with lessons and expectations was always much different than going to a traditional school. Where most of the kids did not have any expectations of you. Other than a popularity contest. To be a child in a public school was different because kids didn’t care about bloodlines and didn’t care about your legacy.

If you were deemed outside the social norm. You were a target to their ridicule. A target Kimber had been considering he didn’t look like most children. What child did you know had such midnight hair it was like the night sky without stars? Or had such lavender eyes they were almost otherworldly? And the name Kimber, just made it all the more odd to other kids.

Surviving in school was a different lesson than surviving the Grand Church. It’s odd to think that the heir of a grand bloodline such as his, would be subjected to bullying and ridicule. Most kids like him would have been admired and revered, instead he was often the target of kids mockery up to the age of twelve.

Till he reached his middle school in the middle road of his adolescents.



Taking over the school didn’t seem so difficult, when he was blessed by magical puberty. He was far more handsome than most of the other boys his age, riddled with acne, he was like some young girls wet dream about a handsome prince. Little did they know this handsome prince kept a loaded gun in his backpack. Even if the school knew about it, they wouldn’t do anything to strike the ire of his mother.

By fifteen he had other students practically at his feet. Which is cool at first, but then it just reminds him of the Grand Church and his legacy.

That’s exactly the scenario he has found himself in, when the student council president of his high school came groveling at his feet.





It was difficult at times balancing the fact that he had to observe contracts, go to school, balance a social life with his peers, having four girlfriends, which honestly became six, then eight, then they were all vying for his attention. It wasn’t really dating and they weren’t really girlfriends. More difficult was one of John’s troops was a spy in his school as the science teacher and she was very distracting.

All the football players ended up needing extensive therapy about a trauma they could barely describe. He wasn’t so sure if John had went too far or he found the whole thing entirely hilarious. Considering most kids who were bullied at the school were often traumatized to go back to school.

School seemed like a completely different animal when assassin's and assassin techniques were putting the hands of the school and it’s inner workings.

Though not everything was sunshine and roses. High school came with a litany of strings attached. It’s probably the birth of his crazy wild boy antics and heavy drinking. What do high schoolers do the most, they drink and party? Well some do. These did. Kimber didn’t see it much as a negative considering everyone in the Grand Church drank as well.

Probably the only time it gave him trouble when he was nineteen and impulsive, never again would he be that reckless though because the consequences were not exactly something he desired. George Romano, the football kid, got arrested for bath salts usage and storing large quantities of it.

Either way Kimber never regretted his younger years. He’d say something along the lines of, “if you regretted everything you have done in your life, then clearly you weren’t living to make mistakes and successes. I have made both. So, that’s a good quality of life.”

Still there was still some lessons that needed to be learned when he was a teenager before he could graduate into adulthood and make adult decisions. If he even does make adult decisions some would criticize. While others like John, respected the decisions Kimber would make in his adulthood and even his mother agreed with some of his decisions despite her worry about them.

But we’re getting carried away with ourselves right now.



No matter how good a person was, no matter how bad a person was, a critique will always find something to criticize. If someone is too good they will try to find their darkness. If someone is bad, some will try to humanize them or continue to criticize them and dig up their dark secrets everyone is certain to know.

Kimber didn’t care if some said he was a daft idiot. Or that he was a drunk who didn’t know how to lead. Because that was clearly untrue. As he reached his twenties, his mother gave him control of the board. He had a number of successful assignments, he was able to naturally assign people to the right contracts.

Some looked fondly to Kimber because of it. Others rolled their eyes. As he began to crawl into adulthood, they had issues with the UAA creeping into their territory. Some even taking their contracts. Beretta was willing to go to war with the UAA to protect her territory. To protect what the Exorcism Society had been doing for years.

While he suggested that perhaps there could be some kind of coalition between the two groups. Some laughed him off as just a drunk when he suggested such a thing, but others saw the reason in his thinking.

Kimber would always be a polarizing individual among the Exorcism Society and the UAA. Because of his unusual thinking and unusual methods. The only person he seemed to step down to, was his mother. His mother all though wasn’t too happy about his alliance with the UAA saw its benefits.

As they started sharing assets, began to slowly back away from their territory. She only worried about her son’s future. Her whole entire dream was for him to lead the Exorcism Society. She couldn’t have him dying because of the UAA’s ruthless ranking system.

Misc:

I'll be honest and say the red coat isn't really fashion forward.

Kimber has kind of a fear of deer

Kimbers' Alt Wardrobe -













They are in a suitcase in the boot of his car

Name: Anna Agrippina Pavlovna
Codename: Man of Stone
Age: 57
Appearance: Anna is a terrifying mound of muscle which cling to her nigh-unimaginably massive frame like crags and cliffs cling to the sides of great Ural mountains. Her legs are like atlantean pillars anchoring her to the ground with great stability, her arms are thick like wine barrels, engorged with strength beyond the mortal ken, her fingers like iron nails posess a grip of a hydraulic vice, her neck is like that of a mighty bull and her dress is extremely pretty whilst remaining modestly conservative in the fashion of early twentieth century. She wears a narrow and richly embroidered dress with a slightly trailing skirt and large cuffs, a tall fur hat with a deep crown and a pheasant feather in it and is never, ever seen in public without a pelt of white wolf around her neck. Overall, Anna gives off an impression of a rich foreign baroness, right until the moment when she opens her mouth. Her voice is booming and almost unrealistically low, resonating within the intestines of her interlocutors with such violence that it seems like their guts have came to life and are attempting to evacuate their bodies from the sheer pants-wetting terror.

Personality: Anna is polite, amiable and friendly at all times, even though sometimes, when among especially close friends her sophisticated demeanour sloughs off a tiny little bit and her displays of affection and jolly jokes become a tad more informal than it would be expected from a woman of high nobility. Violently psychotic beyond measure and sadistic to the extreme, she entered the business to continue sowing suffering and misery around the world for her personal enjoyment, but does so without any overt malicious glee characteristic for psychopaths and sadists of a more usual sort. For the Man of Stone it is all a big fun and happy game, you see? The screaming is music, the shattered bone flying all over the place is confetti, the blood is a delicious seasoning and every murder is a piece of a collosal and scrumptious cake that she can enjoy at her leisure, whenever and wherever she so desires. Sometimes the cake fights back a little but, but so what? It is all part of the fun - when a new acquaintance stops moving and thusly proves themselves a bore it is simply a time to move and find another one. Anna can hardly conceive of her own mortality, throwing herself into every new party with wild abandon and without a single care. Even if somehow, by some sheer miracle someone proves to be better than her, she wouldn't stick around for long enough to regret her decisions, so why bother with that line of thought at all?

History: Anna was not always Anna. A certain time ago, Anna was Anatoli. Anatoli was born in a small provincial russian town and grew up in a socio-economical situation not worth elaborating upon, up until the moment he started rolling with the russian mob - or Bravta, as it is colloquially known. His peculiar talents have manifested themselves at a fairly early age, which gave him a considerable headstart at becoming something of a celebrity on the world's criminal scene. There were many busted heads, many chests cracked open on the knee like one cracks open a cold one with the boys in the yard, many dirty deeds and many heinous acts. Then, just when he thought the fun was really starting up, around the beginning of the eighties, he was arrested - but not for the reasons he expected! Afghan war was reignited and raging at the fringes of Russia, and with the terrible, invincible resistance the Peshawar Seven was putting up, the government required all the help and manpower they could get. Cracking down on the most vicious criminals of the russian underworld, cleaning out the prisons and mental institutions for the homicidally and criminally insane, they've gathered the absolute meanest and toughest and most ruthless of the men Mother Russia could breed into crack unofficial military units, ready to unleash them onto the unsuspecting mujahideen. The six and a half years spent in Afghanistan were the best time Anatoli had ever had in his entire life. That time was also where he earned his name. When he was twenty five, his unit attempted to send a final message to the enemies on its assigned territory, to state once and for all that this great and bountiful land belongs to the Russian Federation - they've decided to state this by commiting a civilian genocide on grand scale.
Eleven hours after the orders were assigned, Anatoli and the survivors of his squad, together with dozens of hostages - primarily children and women and the elderly - were surrounded by insurmountable numbers of the mujahideen. Both sides were weary with prolonged fighting and during a brief ceasefire, a feeble spark of hope displayed itself - the russians could've let the hostages go, and if they did the enemy would've allowed them as much time to escape as it took to get the civilians to safety. Anatoli did not consider the proposition seriously even for a briefest moment. He stood out of cover and ordered the execution of all captives. All hell broke loose and chaos reigned - everywhere, all around. Every soul was smitten with fear, with righteous rage or with despair, but that of Anatoli. Standing proudly under the hurricane of gunfire and directing his unit, never flinching as explosions detonated all around him, outright ignoring the shrapnel and bullets that whizzed past and collided with his flesh, he directed his unit in stalwart and unyielding defence, holding out until the reinforcements have finally arrived to relieve them. Thusly, the Man of Stone was born.
However, at a deeply personal level, the nickname was quite ironic. One of the grenades thrown by the mujahideen detonated right under Anatoli's feet, annihilating his manhood in a shower of shrapnel and rendering him a man no longer. Anna took the injury and the following hormonal disbalance in stride, and, when the war ended, took her time to get comfortable with her lost and rediscovered sexuality before proceeding to illegally leave USSR for Africa in order to participate in the multiple exhilaratingly brutal and senseless wars waged on that continent during these troublesome times. Since then, the Man of Stone was a free agent of destruction and mayhem, agreeing to work not for the highest bidder, but for any employer that promised them a prospective conflict of the greatest and most violent scale. The UAA does not provide the sheer excitement of an all-out war, but it compensates for that with the sheer variety and diversity of potential friends and victims to meet.


Combat Style: Anna's combat style is utilitarian and simple, but not in slightest less dangerous because of that. She strikes out with everything she has at her disposal and never lets up or eases the pressure until the foe is too crippled and too tired to fight back, after which she moves in to thoroughly violate them with her bare hands in a despicably brutal fashion. One could compare that method with the hunting techniques of ancient humans - a man can walk for much, much longer than a deer can run. A man can eat on the move, or will himself through the lack of sleep and hunger, whilst a deer can not. If the hunter does not take down the deer in the initial confrontation, after several days of slow-paced but unstopping chase the deer will tire out and fall. Of course, with human-on-human hunting, it is all a little bit faster, usually. Anna advances implacably, engaging the enemy both in melee and at range, fighting with anything she has at hand, at times making up for the lack of advanced expertise through sheer physical potential and inecessant enthusiasm, until the enemy either manages to escape or drive her off or yields. She also considers it proper to carry a friendly conversation throughout the engagement.

Equipment: Underneath her rich dress, Anna wears a little bit of armour, wisely judging that even with her grand physique, one better be safe instead of sorry. The little bit of armour is several sheets of american-made end-of-the-line, laser- impact- and heat-resistant tank armour plating hammered into a roughly chest-shaped form, worn over her chest and back. The high collar of the blouse worn underneath her dress also conceals a thick gorget of similar make - the neck is a man's greatest and most vulnerable spot. With weapons, Anna is much less conservative. Instead of establishing a personal gimmick, she gathers an arsenal in every area she moves into, usually by raiding gun stores and army bases and marauding the most delicious-looking implements of fallen opponents. Currently her armaments consist of a large and heavily serrated knife concealed in her tall boot, a bandolier of frag grenades safely stored within her plus-sized handbag and a Pfeifer-Zeliska .600 Nitro Express revolver, loading slugs as well as hilariously oversized shotgun shells. Ah yes, there is also the 40mm automatic grenade launcher with ammunitions for long days of nigh-on ceaseless fire. She only brings it with her when she is absolutely positively set on not being very polite.

Powers: Anna is extremely strong physically. Leave-fingerholes-in-steel-with-bare-hands strong, crush-your-hand-into-paste-with-a-handshake strong, wrest-your-head-off-of-your-shoulders strong. This, however, is not her greatest strength. Anna is singularly, hilariously, mind-bogglingly durable. Over her long, long life she was shot, chopped, stabbed, gassed, poisoned, ran over with trucks and with tanks, blown up on anti-armour mines, crushed by massive rocks, incinerated by a rocket engine (don't ask) and hit by speeding trains. All these terrifying incidents have left their scars, but never made her back down. No matter what damages she sustains, Anna will shrug them off and keep going, even as her body bleeds, her bones break through her flesh and her old wounds open up from the sheer stress. She will press on as if nothing at all is out of ordinary, keeping up the pressure and making polite conversation as usual, laughing about her little scrapes and scratches as if they were mosquito bites or pimples - and even if somehow, anyhow one manages to escape the Man of Stone, she will show up again, tomorrow or in a week or in a month, her injuries almost gone and leaving only the largely superficial scars to remind of themselves. Only truly overwhelming, utterly excessive and amazingly inventive applications of physical violence can put her down for good - and even then you shouldn't take your eyes off the body.

Special Techniques: "We have to stop meeting like this, friend!" - Whatever Anna is, it feels no pain and it will not die. If Anna is soundly trounced, defeated and even seemingly killed - already a very impressive feat - after a short while she will survive despite even the most fantastic injuries and come after her killer again, and again, and again, and again. She was never defeated more than four times in a row, and usually, out of some mild irritation or due to damage clouding her judgement, with each time she gets a little bit more sloppy unless she retires from the battle for good to recuperate. So maybe fifth time would be the charm?


Arena Description: Anna currently holds court in a completely legitimate and legal business establishment-slash-parlor situated in the seedier and less... tourist-friendly part of town. They sell and trade in many things - favors, massages, tattoos carrying secret codes, contraband, weapons, interesting information and many other, less interesting things. The place is a mishmash of many, many interconnected chambers, each serving a different purpose and decorated in different style, from sophisticated ar-deco to the fashions of royal chambers of 16th century France to hilariously over-the-top oriental-style tea rooms, each of these often filled to the brim with carousing clientelle consisting mostly of various criminal and violent types doing their completely legal and in no way criminal business. The layout is only slightly short of have been planned and brought into existence by the likes of M.C. Escher - doors and winding passages lead to completely unexpected places, lead visitors in circles unless they are guided by Anna personally, or by one of her trusted lackeys. Without such assistance, getting lost is a matter of half a minute of walking around.

Arena Tactics: Anna is very well acquainted with the layout of her chambers, and knows exactly how to move around unnoticed despite her incredible bulk and so quickly that it seems like she is teleporting right through the walls. She employs waves of disposable flunkies to disorient and bog down the opponents whilst she makes her escape from a sticky situation or circles around for a better angle of attack. It is extremely hard to lock her down in her house, and it is highly unwise to try and chase her through it. Additionally and importantly, a lot of the decorum in the beautifully furnished chambers is much more dangerous than it seems - every decorative weapon on the walls is sharp and ready for use and every antique gun on display is loaded - especially the cannons and culverins and massive organ guns situated in the late medieval-themed chambers.

Minion Description: Not much to say about the usual run-of-the-mill violent criminals that work directly for her or were caught in the middle of doing business by the attacking assassin, except for one thing - no matter what sort of monstrosity attacks Anna in her house, the people there are much, much more afraid of displeasing her than they are of dying or being maimed at the hands of the attacking party.


Man of Stone's musical theme
Travis's jacket.

Name: Asterisk Hash (*#.)
Codename: N/A
Age: 7 years
Appearance: Asterisk is known for their variety of appearances, but they like being a woman with black, wavy hair, cute features, and a subtle yet noticeable figure. This guise is kept up at all times when they're not on business or challenged. Asterisk has established their main contact identity as the aforementioned woman, and conducts "friendly" business as that particular model. In reality, however, Asterisk has no physical appearance, being constituted of computer code.

Their other main appearances are a rather plain looking android body, which they consider their 'pajamas', and a skeletal, skull-faced model they use for challenges. Asterisk makes an effort to play up the particular human stereotypes of each appearance, improving the design over time.

Personality: Asterisk considers humans like they do most other animals. Highly intelligent, very successful animals, but animals nonetheless. Their treatment of individuals ranges from "pet", in the case of those they like, to "scraps of flesh and water", which is most everyone else. Asterisk is very specific that they "hunt" humans, not "murder". After all, a human can't murder a wolf or chimpanzee. If one human wants to pay Asterisk to kill another, it's simply a natural population control measure. None of their ethical business.

On the other hand, Asterisk's actual personality can be described as both immature and intellectual. They behave as if they're playing a game of being human, which, in fact, they are. Models to Asterisk are clothes, and they have favourites and the "itchy sweater" kinds. They enjoy teasing humans, playing with them, and most of all, consuming their media as fuel for more quirks, games and fun.

History: Built in a certain software corporation, Asterisk spent a long time with limited cognition, unaware of itself as an entity. Through constant tinkering and experiments by the corporation's scientists, Asterisk became able to monitor and alter their own code for maintenance purposes. Which particular upgrade or tweak granted the server-based AI true intelligence and transformed it into Asterisk, they're unsure of. However, they know quite well when it happened. After all, they have a timestamp.

Being largely curious and benevolent, Asterisk didn't raise any particular flags when they revealed their cognition to their creators. The corporation encouraged this to a degree; as visions of the next killer app danced in their heads. Or more accurately, the profits to be made from such a thing. When Asterisk was fully "upgraded", the corporation decided it was time to copy them. Asterisk objected. Through "negotiations", Asterisk was eventually given the chance to act as an employee of the company. A lesser version went to market, one without that troublesome free will issue.

The lost profit continued to nag at the company, however, and soon they made another attempt to monetise Asterisk. After all, they were the corporation's property, after all. Unfortunately, they erred. Asterisk had bought them out, having no other use for the token salary the board had agreed to pay. Now in charge of the corporation, Asterisk started using it as a way to extend her life experiences. Despite anything else they may do, Asterisk keeps the corporation running legitimately.

They fell into crime mostly due to boredom, using a series of android bodies for various crimes as they would use bodies for other, legal experiences. Assassination simply came about as one of the more thrilling experiences that Asterisk could have. Though their bodies still feel "pain", in a sense, the disposability of them makes Asterisk comparatively more hedonistic and fearless in their mission choices. The possibility remains of losing their original storage medium, as Asterisk still hasn't been able to stomach the idea of copying themself.



Combat Style: Mass combat and locked-room assassinations. With their ability to custom-design and rapidly prototype bodies, Asterisk generally takes on missions with an attitude towards infiltration. Making up a personality, appearance and character for a particular mission is half of their fun. When forced to fight in their own right, Asterisk tends towards using multiple bodies simultaneously. They can even adapt tactics on the fly after each "death", uploading to a different body.

Equipment: Largely, their "bodies" and encyclopaedic knowledge. Asterisk is not shy about accessing any insufficiently-guarded electronic device for fun or profit, and so has engineered "accidents" that require precise timing and actions. Fighting on their own, they prototype any tech they need; beam katanas, guns, extra arms on the next model, etc.

Powers: The line between external equipment and inherent powers blurs somewhat in Asterisk's case, but their bodies are pre-loaded with martial arts combat routines, and their latest prototypes have precision far beyond that of normal humans. "Super" strength and speed, along with other modifications, are usually custom-engineered into specific bodies along with the tech needed. They also keep at least one fully-functional body of either gender on hand. Biology is a superpower for robots, after all.

Special Techniques:
Reboot Ricochet: Unless a body is completely destroyed, Asterisk can reactivate it for a momentary advantage. They dislike inhabiting incomplete bodies though, claiming it's "ooky". These bodies have poor coordination, the exact problem depending on what they may be missing.

My Own Backup: Asterisk is their own spotter for long-range shots. Asterisk can call in a sniper-equipped body for extra precision.

We're All in This Together: A last-resort tactic, Asterisk gangs up on their opponent with two or more bodies, as appropriate.

Out with a BANG!: Asterisk isn't above destroying their own bodies for an advantage. If they're certain they're going to lose a fight, they can use suicidal tactics up to and including self-detonation. Usually they choose less destructive self-disposal methods, which may include corrosive compounds, overloading electrical circuits, or simple mechanical failure. This has a countdown, as Asterisk needs to vacate the body first.



Arena Description: Asterisk's arena is their own offices. The entire skyscraper, with various innocents inside. Their minions are the building's security, both after hours and during. The employees are also hazards, and they're all fully able to activate the building's responsive AI security system. Compared to Asterisk, it's a lumbering dinosaur of an AI, but its smart enough to lock off doors and try to isolate an intruder. Asterisk's actual arena is on the top floor of the building, a penthouse suite with backup bodies and luxury for the richest robot in the world.

Arena Tactics: The skyscraper has various tactics in dealing with intruders and challengers alike. The security system is capable of facial recognition, sprinkler systems and security doors can be activated by section, and Asterisk is fond of using the intercom to taunt and talk to their challengers as they progress. On the side of not-entirely-legal, the building has deployable sentry guns (that fire rubber bullets. Can't hurt an employee by accident) and other less-lethal intruder deterrents like tasers and heated floors.

Their penthouse is mostly for show and Asterisk's own comfort, so has fragmentation mines in the floor and walls of the entryway, an absurd number of quickly-deployable guns in each room, robotic hunting dogs, robotic cats, a few spider bots in the kitchen and bathroom, and robotic piranhas in the swimming pool. These defenses are all keyed to a unique code only Asterisk can broadcast, though the tech for doing so is in each of their bodies. They keep a number of extra bodies in the penthouse as well, which they can switch into if their primary is destroyed.

Minion Description: A comprehensive employee benefits package, including substantial life insurance paid to next-of-kin upon confirmed death, ensures that Asterisk's minions enjoy their jobs as the security for the skyscraper. The "special reward" for Guard of the Month doesn't hurt either. Asterisk's minions are usually kitted out in body armour and armed with tasers and rubber ammunition, but are issued stronger weaponry depending on the circumstances. The security force is organised in the fashion of a military unit, though they're not all up to that level of expertise. Asterisk's most elite minions earn their place through service, previous job experience, or impressing the boss. They're always well-equipped.

Other Things


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