Name: Sarah White
Alias: Spotlight
Age: 16
Alignment: Villain
Loyalty: Last Minute
Appearance: Sarah is a girl with blond hair just above shoulder lenght, however she has it dyed to be a pure white to match with her usual outfit, her eyes are blue and she typically wears glasses to help with her vision in public. She is about 5'3 and is very skinny, however she's started to fill out a bit as she grew up. In public she'll wear trendy clothing to match the weather, however as Spotlight her outfit consists of all white clothing. White leather pants, a white hoodie on top of a white shirt, white boots, and to top it off she wears a white mask with two eye holes. Something important to note is that she wears contacts when posing as Spotlight.
History: Sarah hasn't had a good life to say the least, born to an alcoholic father and an abusive mother she has been miserable since the day she was born. At the age of ten she was sold off to some very bad people so her father could pay for booze and so her mother could be rid of her.

She was kept in a dark room by herself at all times, except when they took her out for filming. Those were the only times she would get to see other people, when they filmed. They would strip her nude and take pictures of her in a room with broken bottles and cigarette butts all over the floor, bright lights blinded her as gross men who smelled like booze and smoke groped her and stroked her, withholding food if she cried or screamed. A whole year of this passed, every day was a fresh hell as she clung to her sanity in the darkest darkness and the brightest lights. One day it was just too much.

All it takes is one moment, a man telling her she couldn't have any food unless she sucked the dick of some gross weirdo. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" She cried out as she tried to shove the man away, mustering up all her strength to push him over. The room was silent as the other man in the room looked at the man on the ground, blood pooling on the ground. He had hit his head on some broken glass, he was unconscious. One second passed, then two, yet nobody hit her or screamed at her. He just kept looking at the bleeding man on the floor. Sarah was confused, but not even she was dumb enough to pass up this blessing as she ran out of her prison. On her way out she knocked over an ashtray, lighting some curtains on fire as she ran outside. Within minutes the house was ablaze, she watched the building burn down with a strange satisfaction as she listened to the man inside scream. But he never left, he just kept staring at the bleeding and broken body that lay on the floor.

Years passed, she was 16 when a charismatic woman named Z got into contact with her. She was forming a group of individuals under the banner of Last Minute, with the goal of taking over Denver. Spotlight smiled and shrugged, it sounded like a fun way to make money. She had no problems with that whatsoever.


Motivations: Spotlight is a very childish girl, with the mentality of a ten year old in most respects of her life. She does what she thinks is fun, regardless of how much it may hurt others.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Likes:

• Z
• Candy
• Pretty Clothes

Dislikes:

• Alcohol
• Cigarettes
• Gross Men

Derangement: N/A

Skills: Good at drawing, good sense of fashion, good at cheering people up. Also very good at hugging.
Classification: Master/Stranger
Details: Spotlight can take all attention off of one person and focus another person's attention on a second individual. For example, she can make Person A focus on Person B while making herself unnoticeable. Or she could make Person A focus on her while she makes Person B unnoticeable. Of course she doesn't like to focus attention on her due to her weak body, but it is a possibility.
Limitations: Her power only works on three people at a time, the person she wants to be unnoticeable and the person she wants to focus on another.
Equipment: Stun Gun
Blank White Mask
Knife
Candy

Name: Benjamin Dunhill

Alias: Spectre

Age: 19

Alignment: Villain

Loyalty: Independent.

Appearance: Ben stands at 5' 8", slightly shorter than most males. He has a slim but toned frame, sporting amber eyes and raven black hair. Underneath the clothing, he has multiple scars from old stab wounds or gunshots that are littered all over over his body. Ben likes to look professional all the time. He's got a reputation to uphold after all, gotta look the part. Usually sporting a formal shirt and tie ensemble with well fitting yet flexible trousers, complete with a smart pair of oxfords for shoes. He has a leather shoulder holster to keep his pistol on one side and his sword on the other. If he's out in the public, Ben will probably have a suit coat on to match with his outfit, and also to conceal his weapons. He also wears a gas mask to hide his identity.

History: Born an orphan, and destined to be a monster. Ben grew up in a dark 10 x 7 x 5 ft room (Length x Height x Width), the only window being that of his door. He was told from a very young age that his parents gave him up and that he was now just "property". In actuality, he was taken by a local mafia, and the Godfather of this particular clan was a cruel man. He wanted a loyal, trained killer who would pull the trigger without question. Years of mental torture and drugs kept Ben subjugated and "agreeable". Whenever he was let out, he would be trained to become a competent combatant. With cruel punishments if he couldn't keep up, such as beatings or being starved, and nothing else to do, Ben became deadly proficient in multiple combat forms, able to take down men twice his age.

Sometimes given rewards such as being let out for ten minutes (albeit under close watch), the system set up by the mafia taught Ben one thing. Killing was good. And it made him feel good for doing it. However, something in the back of his mind was niggling. Whatever this was, it wasn't right. He had to get out, before he'd be made to do something he would regret. Ben managed to break out and find the first two weapons he could get his hands on. A Colt M1911 handgun and an ornate Wakizashi mounted on a wall in the complex. His urge to escape was overwhelming. However, the first two goons he came across, he shot before they could even put a hand to their own weapons. Ben looked at his shaking hand. He didn't even think about it. He just... killed them... and it felt good. The more Ben slaughtered in his wake, the wider the grin grew on his face. His escape plan and turned into a bloody rampage of revenge for all of the torture... all of the pain... the criminals put him through. Finally, he kicked open the office door of the Mafia Father.

The crimelord merely chuckled. His project was a brilliant success. He had finally given in to what these people were trying to make him, and he was happy about it. After a whole lifetime of being powerless, there was suddenly this overwhelming feeling of being in control. Ben began to chuckle along with his former boss and owner, before finally pulling the trigger. He knew what was about to happen next. He wouldn't be able to just walk out of here. Now he had to employ the skills he was taught over the years once again. He had no time to contemplate the killings. It was time to holster his gun and let his new sword do most of the work. Ben managed to outmanoeuvre and skirt around those who were hellbent on not letting him escape. The Wakizashi was no longer just a showpiece on a wall, it was now an effective weapon of discreet killing. Necks were slit, stomachs were sliced and there were the unfortunate few who just got decapitated.

Ben did it. He escaped. He walked out of the "safehouse", covered in blood. However, he never had contact with the outside world. Where could he go? His only choice was to live on the streets. After that, he had time to deal with what happened. He had just killed... slaughtered people. Lives, feelings, thoughts. All taken. Just like that. Because of him. They deserved it. They had it coming. Ben was bred to kill people. What the hell else was going to happen!? However, this wasn't the first of his problems. Withdrawals from the drugs he had been pumped with over the years were finally starting to kick in. After 72 hours, Ben was in a horrible state. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, he couldn't stop vomiting and his stomach had been churning for what seemed like an eternity. He hadn't eaten or drank since he left either. It was then that a random stranger approached him. A fellow vagabond. He showed Ben a pipe and a tiny block of opium.

He didn't escape. Not really. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his past. God damn it. God fucking damn it. Why!? He had literally killed his past, so why did he have to go back to it!? He knew that going back to drugs would ease the pain, but in his mind it was going back. Back to what he was, what he's become. The temptation was too great. Just anything that would stop the pain. Ben accepted the offer, and took the first drag. That's when he saw them. The bodies. The gangsters. The Godfather. All of them were surrounding him, all of them bloody. They were all asking the same fucking question. "Why?" Ben bolted. He ran through the streets in his drug-fuelled haze, screaming "YOU KNOW!?!?! YOU FUCKING KNOW WHY!?!?!" No matter what corner he turned or how fast he ran, Ben could still see them. Hear them. And they were getting louder, and louder, and louder until the voices screamed and swirled inside of his head as a cacophony of torture.

And then Ben woke up. He was on top of a roof. He didn't know how he got up there. The first thing Ben looked at were his hands. His... black... wispy arms and hands made out of inky smoke.

What. The. Fuck.

His arms were literally made out of smoke. Ben didn't panic however. It felt... natural. Ben concentrated, and his arms were willed back to normal. He stood there in thought, turning the smoke on and off with his arms. Then Ben had a thought. Suddenly, he looked own and his entire body was black smoke. He began to move and surge forward. Everything felt like he had done it before. The smoke dashed over the edge of the roof. Ben reformed mid-air before transforming back into smoke and falling to the ground before reforming again. Once he reformed, Ben laughed. He could do things with this. He could do what he was hand-crafted to do. And make money from it. He'd never have to worry about where his next hit was going to come from or staying homeless. He could become the assassin he was meant to be, but not from the orders of some old punk. No. Now he's going to kill for himself.


Motivations: Money. Lots of it.

Sexuality: Straight

Likes:

• Money
• Killing
• Opium
• Buying a new suit

Dislikes:

• Going hungry
• Police
• People sticking their noses where it doesn't belong
• Fakes

Derangement: While he would've ended up this way regardless, a side effect of Ben's powers make him even more sadistic and crueller than usual. His moral compass is horribly skewed, and it makes him way more violent and vindictive than others in the same profession would deem necessary, even for a trained killer.


Skills: Ben is a skilled hand-to-hand combatant, proficient in mixed martial arts. He's also a crack shot with a pistol, but not too great with heavier weapons. He's also incredibly skilled with his Wakizashi short sword, and is responsible for many of his stealth kills, another discipline he's proficient in. He's incredibly athletic and agile, able to incorporate parkour techniques when hunting down his targets. While he is good at all these physical skills, he has really bad social skills. Unsympathetic, untrusting. He's a really hard guy to be around. It suits him just fine though.

Classification: Breaker, with Mover and Changer sub-categories.

Details: Ben can transform himself into a black cloud of smoke, able to move at incredible speeds. It takes him two seconds to form and another two seconds to turn back into his human form. His vision turns black and white, and he can't hear or feel anything else. He can condense this down to only having one limb turned into smoke at a time, but he can't seem to concentrate this down any smaller. Transforming allows him to pass through small gaps and entrances and objects or projectiles will pass straight through him. Ben can continuously stay as smoke for a maximum of ten minutes. If he passes that, then Ben will reform completely passed out, and it could take a while for him to come to. However, when he reforms before, then the timer is reset. The longer he's gone as smoke, the longer it will take for him to recharge. He can expel unwanted materials within his body when turning into smoke, such as bullets or poisons. However, these take time. He also has a sort of "aero-sense". Meaning he can feel changes in the air that will give him a better chance at reacting and turning into Smoke, or sensing strong air currents that will ruin his day.

Limitations: His smoke can be affected like normal smoke. Wind and vacuums can be completely debilitating to his power. Within smoke form, he has to stay as one separate entity. If someone can remove some smoke and keep it in an airlock container, then it's entirely possible that Ben would have lost part of his body. As stated before, while Ben can transform certain parts of his body, it is only contained to his limbs. He can transform small objects such as his pistol or sword, but as of now, Ben can't transform larger objects. He cannot transform other people into smoke, due to the Manton Effect. Another problem he is subjected to is that he has to have enough room to reform into a human. If he is forced into a container as smoke, he has the rest of his time limit to get out or go into an unconscious state, bordering a coma. His powers cannot recharge until he has enough space to reform back to a human. Above all that, when he's not in smoke form, he's just as human as every other normal. His body, at least.

Equipment: Ben keeps his weapons on him at all time. An ornate Wakizashi and a Longslide Hardballer pistol, with two extra .45 magazines to accompany them. As well as that, he keeps a phone on him as well as a pack of completely black cards. He writes the name of his target in red before showing them the card and then killing them, leaving the card there. His personal "mark".

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