Name: Albert King Hughes, friends call him Al.
Super Hero/Villain Identity: Fault Line
Age: 37
Nationality: African American
Location: Los Angeles California, United States of America

Appearance: Albert stands at a respectable 6’3” weighing in at 247 with an impressive athletic build. His shoulders are broad and he carries them slightly forward, with his chest more inward. He has a very square set and short jaw line which he keeps clean shaven on a daily basis, his eyes are a dark green in color and sit slightly wide set and low on his face. His hair is kept incredibly short, no doubt less than a few centimeters long with a ‘style cut’ starting in line with the top of his right eye and earlobe and going about half way back across his head.
He prefers to dress in white t-shirts and blue denim jeans when in casual wear, with simple tennis shoes. However the man knows how to dress, owning several proper Italian cut three piece suits, their color schemes are of course:
Suit 1: Black, White, Burgandy.
Suit 2: Black White, Light Blue
Suit 3. Black, Silver, Dark Blue
But those aren’t the suits you want to hear about:
The super suit of Fault Line is a black spandex two piece, with bright yellow trim and upon the back is a yellow circle with dark cracks running from its center outwards. He dones a simple, yet effective black mask over eyes. The suit is skin tight for the reasons to do with his ability, as he channels tectonic energy he found that if his clothes were loose they tended to tear away from his body as the energy coursed through him, the spandex have so far been the only clothes that stayed securely on his body.

Personality: Albert is a patient man, he strives to be understanding of others plights and puts himself in others shoes before taking action. You could say he believe no one is beyond redemption and shows this by often times giving others second and third chances.

That being said he despises those that use others for personal gain, whether they be manipulating them emotionally, physically, mentally or supernaturally. It is an unforgivable action in his eyes, more so than perhaps even taking a murder, because once you've taken someones ability of choice, you've taken more than just their life from them.

He understands that while life is unfair that is never an excuse, when trying to help others he understands the importance of both the carrot and the stick, and employs them both equally in his life. Whether it be with his children or with those he is trying to help and even the villains he fights. Some people need to be sat down and given the lay of the law, and sometimes given a good slap up side the head, but equally to him is knowing when to take someone into your arms and allowing them to vent, to speak freely and be given a support to lean against.

In short Albert is a patient and caring man, any day where he can say he helped someone get their life on track is a day he is happy, and he isn't capable of leaving someone alone that he feels needs help. He can't just tell himself 'they'll be fine' and leave it at that.

Backstory/Origin: Los Angeles is a pretty nice to place to grow up, if your families rolling in the dough they get from every other sucker in the city. And compared to many others, Albert started off with pretty good chances.
Going back to his Grandfather, Jerome Bason Hughes, who was a professional boxer and popular nationwide. Jerome was gifted the Gym that he always practiced at by the owner when the man retired, and ran a rather successful business outside of the ring. Jerome had a son, George, who would then later have Albert.
George helped run the Gym with his father, and even started community out reach and troubled youth programs out of the building. Given young men and women of the lower income areas somewhere to work through their frustrations constructively, helped them build character and do to their families popularity, get jobs and find the resources they needed to compete in school and the work force.
Unfortunately the gangs that prayed on these same youths never take kindly to such programs, and one of them, the Muertos, took it upon themselves to end George’s life. Why is this important?
Albert was only 14 when his dad died, and it was less than a month later his psychic abilities awakened and he channeled his first ‘tremor’.
Confused, angry and scared he ended up falling in with a gang rival to the Muertos called the Bishops. He felt a connection to them, they seemed to appreciate him, weren’t afraid of his abilities and gave him a direct line to getting back at the men that killed his father. What followed were several years of robberies, assaults and very very expensive vandalism.
However on the night when he would finally get to take the life of one of the men that killed his father… a lot happened. He couldn’t say exactly what happened, it was all a whirl wind, but the night ended with his hands clean of blood and the Bishops. Bent over the toilet sick to his stomach and with himself, what followed was a long and silent period of several months during which he really looked at himself, for the first time since his father died three years prior he walked into the family Gym.
He made the decision to be a man like his father was, and focused on that, keeping his abilities hidden and working with his Grandfather. But when he was 23 he saw on the news, a young man, an Ultra not unlike himself years before, being arrested. Roped into a Gang after he lost his parents, his abilities used for their own ends, something clicked and he decided.
People in the city, in the Ghetto’s, needed a real role model, especially the Ultras. Someone that was going to stand up for them, against the gangs, the crooked politicians, the dirty cops and all the crazies that though they were above the law. He knew how to fight, he knew he had power, and finally he had a real purpose.
So Fault Line was born, the hero of Los Angeles that delivers justice equally to all with the great might of the Earth itself. He also continues his father’s work in community out reach from the family gym, which he now owns though his grandfather spends his days relaxing there, it is now a Boxing and MMA gym.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: Currently None

Skills: Martial artist, experienced business man, motivational speaker.

Abilities/Powers/Mutations: Psychic ability: Tectonic Channeling: With the power of his mind Albert is able to channel the energy created by the shifting of the Earth’s Tectonic plates. He can use the energy in several ways:
Physical Enhancement: He can use the energy to empower his muscles, causing him to run faster, jump farther, and punch harder.
Kinetic Barrier: He can cloak himself in a layer of energy that acts as a shield and barrier, absorbing physical forces that contact him and protecting his body.
Tectonic Tremors: He is capable of directing and releasing the energy in short range waves and blasts of physical force.

Name: Gabriel Holmes

Super Hero/Villain Identity: Executioner

Age: 53

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Brazilian

Location: World Wide

Appearance:

Outside the power suit Gabe stands about 6'2", with broad set shoulders and a defined athletic build, slim towards his hips. He has a scar that runs down the right side of his face with another intersecting it near the bottom moving diagonally right under his eye and over the top of his nose. He has dark green eyes. His dark hair has begun to gray, the small light dots peppered across his head. He maintains a well trimmed goatee. He prefers to dress in dark turtle necks and military fatigue pants when on assignments and in a surprising twist for most, is a fan of Hawaiian print shirts and button ups on his time off. Accompanied by a pair of sandals and a pair of shorts, varying from tan to dark brown.

Personality: A quiet and prideful man, his decades of success and evasion of authorities have caused no small amount of arrogance to take root within his mind. While always careful and measured in his actions his confidence will sometimes cause him to dismiss certain 'negligible' factors, or underestimate his opponents.

While calm and good at keeping his cool in his younger years, as he has grown older his anger has grown fiercer and his patience for the actions of others has grown unbelievable thin. He still reacts poorly to anyone that reminds him of his father, it is a good way to end up dead on the spot.

He places value on human life, specific, measurable values, this means that you may be lucky enough to survive if you aren't worth killing, or if you have enough value to be kept around. However he holds no belief in any form of sanctity of human life.

Backstory/Origin: Gabriel was born in the USA in the city of Miami Florida. It is during the early years of his life that we see the first steps in the direction that would create one of the most infamous killers to ever live on planet Earth. His father worked for a large South American drug cartel, a native born American of Brazilian heritage, his mother was an immigrant from Venezuela. His father was a man prone to violent fits of anger that were often directed at his wife and young son, Gabe's mother would often hid the young boy by trapping him in the basement or out in the garden shed during times of his fathers particularly violent behaviors.

At the age of seven he attended his mothers funeral after one such incident. At the age of nine he stabbed his father to death as the man slept. From here it is more difficult to follow the boy's history. He became a ward of the state and at the age of 13 disappeared from his foster home.

About 4 years later at the age of 17, under a fake identity he enrolled in the US military and spent 12 years in the armed services, attending Ranger school, marksmanship training and even moving to work within special forces in what could be politely referred to as Wetworks. However at this time he was already operating as a serial killer.

In the US he was the New York Sniper, a serial killer that had been taking out young college age men and women, choosing those that came from well to do families and as the Miami Bay Madman, targeting older men with histories of domestic violence, preferring strangulation before surgically removing the bones from their hands and placing them over the victims eyes.. In West Africa he was known as the 'Black Butcher'. A man dressed in dark dress head to toe that would quickly assault, kill and dismember his victims on the streets at night. In all there are at least 5 other serial killer identities that can be positively linked to the man through his life with a combined body count of nearly 120. When he got out of his 12 year service, he had more than enough on his resume between his personal work and the work within the armed services and he began to sell his skill set out to the highest bidder. He quickly grew in infamy, sky rocketing to the third spot of Interpol's most wanted. The FBI's number 1 for several years, currently sitting at Four. There are active warrants and bounties out for his arrest in China, Russia, USA, UK, France, Germany, Romania, Turkey, Egypt, Pakistan, India, Japan, Australia and Canada.

It was several years ago, with the authorities closing in, and running out of those crazy enough to call themselves friends or allies that he was approached by a group known as "Black Out". With a job offer. Work as an enforcer, field commander and a trainer for them, and he would have access to all the resources he needed to avoid authorities. After accepting he disappeared from the public eye for several years before surfacing, now clad within a high tech power suit to help combat the ravages of his increasing age and further improve his field efficiency. It also helped to combat Ultras. He has taken the moniker Executioner. While his appearance is not widely known, mostly older pictures, his name is one that is spoken off across the world, everyone has at least heard of him. And as with most serial killers and villains, has a variety of fan clubs or at least curious people following their deeds and life as closely as they can.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: Trained and stocked with a variety of modern fire arms, preferring to always keep several high caliber pistols on his person at all times as well as a variety of throwing knives and two combat knives, one at his hip and one at his boot. The rest of his fire arms will be chosen based upon the mission he is going to undertake.

The Executioners Cowl: The power suit developed by Black Out specifically for his body. It is built in with auto injecting pain killers, a thermal regulating layer to keep his temperature at a constant and is built to greatly increase his speed and power. The helmet has numerous tools within a virtual heads up dispaly to measure all number of factors including targeting, distance measuring, communication systems, wind speed etc. As well as having different settings for low light vision and infrared and heat vision.

Busters: These two long gun blades possess installed high caliber slugs, while not accurate at anything but the shortest distance they pack quite a punch. They are difficult for him to wield while not within the Cowl due to their weight and the kick back from the installed fire arms.

Skills: Marksman ship, Roman Boxing, Krav Maga, Judo, WTF Taekwondo, Chinese Kong fu, Long sword and Katana training. Knife grabbling. Survival-ism techniques, speaks 12 languages: English, Portugese, French, Spanish Proper, Spanish Central American Dialects, Egyptian, Chinese Mandarin, Russian, German, Arabic, Afrikaans, Southern Sotho.

Name: Julius Grimes
Alias: Blockraiser (Formerly Grimer)
Race: African American
Age: 28
Height: 6’4
Weight: 160 Lbs

Profession: Musician and Stage Technician, Professional Criminal

Appearance: Julius is a tall man, placid looking, but with a body toned and shredded with muscle. After all, breaking and entering is hard work. His facial features are thin, handsome but with a nose that sticks out, thinly drawn lips and grey eyes. His hair is cut short to his head most of the time, or at best in smal cornrows down the back of his head that end at the nape of his neck. One could almost say he carries a perpetual look of boredom on his features.

Yet, out of all the things that stand out, a gigantic scar running from his shoulder down to his hip is the most notable, as are several burn marks on his legs and arms. Nasty and deep, they never properly healed. His reminder of the battle with Malicious.

Super Suit: A gaudy looking thing at first glance, the armor is more practical than people realize once you get past the surface. Purple cargo pants tucked into steel toed boots, with a purple layer Underarmor shirt above that. Yet, what ties it together is the modified riot armor that he wears. A bit thinner than usual, but still the same type of gear, he keeps it tight against his frame, pieces that would restrict his mobility eschewed in exchange for bundles of cords and wires that tuck into various speakers located along his person.

On his arms are two massive gauntlets, each one carrying the speakers that amplify his sonokinetic abilities. And then his helmet, which modulates his voice, making it unrecognizable outside of the suit, and serving as style points. Large headphones on the side constantly reverberate with the song he’s playing, and the facemask has a built in equalizer that shifts whenever he talks.

Personality: Grimes is a vicious individual, not against stepping over other people to get what he wants in life. Though he refuses to step over people that he has designated as his family. Family is more than just blood to him, it’s a bond that runs deeper than that, and it’s a bond he shares with all of Grime, his actual Biological brother.

Though this isn’t to say that he’s brutal, and needlessly cruel. Calloused is a good word for the man, people’s lives mostly inconsequential to him, but that doesn’t mean he’s against making casual friends. Against the small things in life. After all, the villain persona is only a small portion of the man.

He’s good with words, knowing how to talk with people, and is downright softspoken at the best of times when he’s not in character, but as soon as he steps onto a stage, steps onto any kind of spotlight, he drags it all to him. He tolerates nothing less than that. Yet, he’s quick to anger, anything can set off his temper, seemingly at random. But those close to him know three things above all else. Don’t call him Crazy, Don’t call him a good guy, and don’t mention the name Malicious.

That being said, his temper is the only thing he has under control. He knows when he wants to get angry, and snaps when he wants to snap. Mostly out of fear. The loss of control being his biggest fear, and so? He’s taken power for himself. The Most Dangerous Member, and the De’Facto leader of Grime.

Powers/skills
“Blockraiser!”: His powers are magical in origin, his family line a long history of mages and bards that utilized the powers of sound to their advantage. Oftentimes Covertly, but effectively. In his case? He was the first to ever utilize the powers for something more, for something that’d fulfil his own desires.

He is sonomancer, a mage of sounds, but his applications have always been a bit more physical and hands on. Sonic blasts that can shatter stone up close, explosive and destructive barriers of solid sound that he can manipulate at will. Bolts of sonic energy that he hurls like grenades. While he has the capabilities of using this for more esoteric variations later on, he lacks the creativity to actually use them in that way effectively. He’s focused on the here and now, and the subtle part of his power gets thrown to the wayside because of this.

“Hellraiser!”: The one unique trait that he tore directly from the aether was not linked to his powers of sonic might, but rather to his temper. From the moment he was born, his temper has manifested physically. His sheer magical might forcing and twisting his body, his psyche the more he loses his temper. The angrier he becomes, the more in tune with the magics of the world he becomes, and thus? The more dangerous. His muscles start to twist and swell unnaturally, veins of dark purple spreading along his figure eventually turning to an aggressive purple, throbbing with veins of blue.

Though, the stronger his rage, the stronger the damage dealt to him, the more he’ll feel it later.
That purple tone to his skin is bruising, from his muscles inflating like they do, his entire body turning more and more into just a vessel to accelerate his rage. One of his biggest fears is eventually losing himself to his powers completely, unable to come back.

“ON WITH THE SHOW!”: Blockraiser is an incredibly durable individual, do to the nature of his powers. Even buildings collapsing on top of him are usually insufficient to stop this juggernaut of a man. Bruises and broken bones barely seem to register to his dulled sense of pain, and with the magic constantly coursing through his body, he heals faster than humans as well. What would keep a man down for weeks would barely keep him bedridden for two to three days at a time.

“Been running this shit since I was a kid.”: Blockraiser is skilled in close quarters combat, but untrained. His style has been refined for years of street fights, and his knowledge of the city that he lives in, gangs and connections he can make is oftentimes one of his strong suits. The same thing can be said of him going incognito. He knows how to keep things hush hush when they need to be, and works with people well, in either a leading or a following role.

“Dunno what this shit is, But I can make it.”: An innate knowledge of magic and how to weave it into modern technology means he has crafted a suit for himself that amplifies and focuses his sonokinetic powers into actual music as he fights, and keeps him safe from most small arms fire. It takes another ultra or a well trained team of people to fight him on even terms, and even then that’s tenebrous at best. His brother has also taught him rudimentary knowledge on technology that he puts to use during his stage performances and in assisting the making of his suits.

Gangster: Raised on the streets, he fights with guns as often as his fists, though his powers have taken this place in recent years, he still knows his way around most handguns. He also has an intimate knowledge of drugs and a rudimentary medical knowledge on how to deal with certain wounds to the human body, namely his own after he breaks it to pieces with his magic. Dancing and street signs, and a dialect to match.

History: “You wanna know my story? You wanna know it that badly then?”

There was a moment and several murmurs of agreement were heard, Julius shuffling around in the binds that locked him down. His arms tied behind his back, chains that dampened any sound he tried to make.

“I was an orphan, straight outta Bronx. Made my name there after I dropped outta highschool. Started running and racketing drugs for a price, all the while finding out I had these sound powers. Got me into a lotta trouble, and outta just as much trouble, until you motherfuckers started showing up.”

There was more murmuring, but he was urged to continue, to explain more, about his powers, about how he had found them out...and where his name had come from.

“See, that’s the thing. My powers? All sound based crap, but you guys know this. Guessing it’s for the Feds behind the scenes. The ones that don’t know shit about what they’re sending you people after. Yeah, I fight using sound, can vibrate things in my hand, throws blasts around, and I get...When I get angry, I get big. Scary to watch, even when I see it. Hate being like that.”

He let out a low chuckle, glancing towards the glass pane, the only thing separating him from them.

“Used to run with a gang, called us the Grimers, cus’a my last name. Invited a few people into it, Flaxie, Amps, and then this mother-,” He took a deep breath, his breath hitching in the back of his throat, teeth grit and then let out with another cold and hollow sounding chuckle. “This motherfucker named Malicious. That’s all he’d tell me. Never found out what his face looked like, never heard his real name. Even to this fucking day, motherfucker still doesn’t show his face.”

He took a few moments, his arms bulging, veins spreading along his fingers, but he willed the anger away. Just for a bit longer, before starting again, his breathing even.

“ Every one of them were friends, could even call em family. We were doing small time crime. Little robberies from grocery stores, protection Rackets, drugs...then outta nowhere? I get the good idea to rob a bank. We had four, five ultras at that point. Was gonna be great.”

Another minute to compose himself, he knew what he had to say.

“Then he starts fighting me on that, saying we can keep it small time, and keep things innocent enough, but I had bigger plans. He finally agreed. Night came around, we left...and when we got there? He betrayed us. Sold us out. Back then, I was still called Grimer, when I didn’t have DJ running the whole show. But...That was the angriest I’ve ever gotten. I blacked out when the first shots came in, when the tear gas started to put people down. When Malicious pulled out the chains against me…”

He took a deep breath and let it out, the night flashing through his mind. Then it was pushed away, his eyes opened, a vein throbbing on his head now. Just...thinking about that night made him angry. Pushed his temper beyond what was healthy.

“I lost it. I haven’t screamed so loud, I ain’t ever been that mad since. I attacked him. It’s what all the scars are about. Magic doesn’t save you from hellfire or demon chains, but those won’t save you from me either. That bank, and everything around me...about a city block was brought down. Magic’s never been the same since. Weaker now, so you probably shouldn’t worry about it happening again.”

There was an argument, about how it had happened once, which meant it could be repeated.

Julius chuckled again, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, feet propped up on a table in front of him. “Yeah, maybe. Depends on how far you push me. Let me go right now, and you’ll deal with some crime, but nothing like before. You don’t let me go? I’m guessing DJ is gonna rip this place to pieces.”

They asked again, about how he met DJ.

“I woke up in the hospital with his freaky pet standing over me, saying he was going to take me in, and be my money behind the scenes, but he’s been asking me to do large crime ever since. Even said he’d take in Flaxie and Amps with me. I couldn’t say no to a few million off the bat. He’s family now. First person in a while...been there for...six...seven years now?”

They asked his real name, and Julius laughed. “You guys can’t even find out MY real name, what makes you think I’m gonna snitch on them?”

There was another question, then the entire building shook. Blockraiser standing up, arms pulling tight behind him, veins spreading along and up his arms. Purplish and sickening as he started to bend the metal. A smile was flashed their direction, his eyes still half-lidded and unfeeling.

“I tried to warn you.”

The chains snapped when he flexed, the purple veins spreading along his chest, eyes widening, wild and furious.

“I really did.”

Name: Alan Tarrow
Super Villain Identity: Doctor Science!
Age: 38
Nationality: American
Location: Los Angeles

Appearance:


Personality:
Doctor Science is a character of extremes. They're a loud, over-the-top mad scientist with a sense of style and a penchant for drama. They rant and monologue about their superiority, smile at the camera, and play along with every joke. Even when they're belittling the 'foolish heroes' they do it with a smile on their face. All shall bow to the power of Doctor Science, in the end! He's a goofy cartoon villain, performing absurd and over-the-top plans that are always foiled at the last second. And yet even when lasers are flying and people are being thrown through walls he makes sure nobody gets seriously hurt. Even his most dangerous-looking robots have safety features that prevent them from ever hurting anybody, no matter how menacing their names may be.

Of course, that's all they are. A character. A persona that Alan wields as an outlet for his frustrations, an act that he keeps up to maintain his sanity.

Alan is a deeply conflicted person. An idealist in a cynical world, his super-intelligence leaves him a one-eyes man in the land of the blind. The slow brain processes of others is infuriating, but his deep sense of empathy leaves him more frustrated at himself than angry at others. Most frustrating of all is the fact that he sees the world tearing itself apart. He sees all these simple solutions, but the idiots in charge of the world keep screwing it up and it tears Alan apart to see it. Every night he goes to sleep wondering whether he should be doing more, whether he could save more people if he abandoned his morals.

Alan is a man driven by his passions, who runs himself ragged chasing his dreams. As strange as the path he walks may be, he'll follow it to the end no matter what may stand in his way.

Backstory/Origin: Alan's family was poor, but not cripplingly so. They didn't have much money, but they had enough to get by. More often than not their food was from charity food drives, but they had food. And ever now and then they even had something home-cooked. Alan went to school, but not a particularly good one. He and his sister always had clothes, even if they weren't the newest brands or styles. Alan's early life wasn't comfortable, but it was far from terrible. And his parents loved him deeply. Typically of an Ultra backstory, that means they were doomed from the start.

When Alan gained his power, he intended to make his family rich. His inventions would earn them all the wealth they could hope for. Unfortunately his father fell deeply ill before he could ever finish even his first creation. The father was brought into a hospital but there was nothing they could do. Alan spent weeks pushing his power to it's limits but he was never able to come up with a cure. Every one of his ideas failed, and his father passed away in front of his eyes.

After the death of his father, Alan's mother became depressed. His sister became distant and withdrawn as the mother fell further and further into various 'coping mechanisms'. Drugs, alcohol, and antidepressants. Alan, in a bid to repair his broken family, attempted to build a machine to resurrect his father. A portal to Tamura, from which he sought to retrieve his father's soul. When his mother learned what Alan was doing she pushed him to his limits. Alan worked himself for months without end, suffering at the hands of his mother's mood swings and blaming himself for his failures. Eventually he built the portal, but all it did was unleash a wave of raw magical energy into the world, destroying his house and nearly killing his remaining family.

Three days later, his mother committed suicide. A week after that his sister left, never to be seen again. Even today Alan doesn't know what happened to her.

Desperate and without anyone to turn to, Alan became a runaway and a criminal. He kept himself alive with his crazy inventions, sleeping under bridges and in dumps. It took Alan years to recover from these events, and to this very day he blames himself for the machine's failure. Or for starting in the first place. It could never have worked, after all. The dead stay dead.

In his state of recovery, Alan felt the continuing need to make up for the mistakes of his past. He attempted to work as a superhero, briefly, but he never felt like it was enough. Even if he stopped a robbery or a kidnapping here and there, the world kept growing worse and worse. He reached the conclusion that everything was broken, that the world was being run by idiots. All of the world's problems could be easily solved, if people would just shut up and work together. But they never could. Something always got in the way. Religion, cultural identity, classism, racism, sexism, the pushback against the extremists of any movement, the violent retort against the extremists of the pushback, the never-ending cycle of hatred and violence.

So Alan came up with a solution of his own. He would create world peace when he conquered it. He would wield his inventions to defeat the heroes protecting this broken government, and finally give the world a competent and sane leader. But even as he walked this path, he wouldn't compromise his morals. Never would he kill another, or cause so much damage that it threatened the livelihoods of innocents. Piece by piece he created the identity of Doctor Science, a lovable supervillain who could conquer the world with a smile on his face.

Over time, perhaps he lost sight of the original goal. Allowing himself to be defeated when he could have won, not following through on his plans. Playing Doctor Science, after all, was too much fun. But still, one of these days he would achieve his goal. He would overthrow the flawed nations of Earth and create a new utopia for mankind. One ruled by the great Doctor Science!

Tools/Equipment/Weapons:
Doctor Science creates various wacky inventions, depending on the situation. However he can almost never be seen without his iconic Portal Vest, which allows him to retreat to his underground base just before he would be captured.

Skills:
Over the years Doctor Science has picked up a certain skill with exotic beam weapons and over-the-top 'death' traps. He's also an amazing actor, a great public speaker, and well-versed in any scientific field you can name (and a few you can't).

Abilities/Powers/Mutations:
Alan's a psychic, linked directly to the Plane of Conception. Through that plane he's linked to the 'Spirit of Invention', which is either a place or a being depending on the time of day. Effectively he has immense amounts of knowledge directly beamed into his brain. Most notably the schematics of alien and future technology, allowing him to create devices hundreds of years ahead of humanity's current level of technology. However he can't control what knowledge he gets, and over time he also loses the information he acquires. So he's forced to build machines using whatever alien blueprints are in his head at the moment, leading to haphazard and crazy devices when he needs to be able to fly and he only knows how to create FTL drives and railguns. Of course he does make sure that his inventions are (mostly) safe for bystanders.

Name: Jake Coulson

Super Hero/Villain Identity: Mr Gimmick II
Age: 63
Nationality: American
Location: Mobile

Appearance:
Jake has brown hair going grey, light green eyes, clean shaved face, and a mole in the right cheek. He has an average body type for a person of his height, though his armor makes him look bulkier.

As Mr Gimmick, Jake uses a body armor that can be changed and modified depending on the theme he is using at the moment. The default Mr Gimmick costume uses green colored covers with a red G in the breast plate. The mask consists of a helmet with black goggles. Jake uses a fake blonde goatee attached to the face with theater glue both in this armor and any other costumes he may decide to wear.

Personality:
To Jake, being supervillainy is more than just being a criminal. It's about being an artist, with banks and jewelry stores as canvases and gadgets and powers as brushes. He takes the rules of villainy very seriously and doesn't like it when villains try to take a theme that's already taken. As Mr.Gimmick, Jake uses several themes, but considers it an earned privilege. He also won't borrow another villain's theme without permission. Jake is polite and respectful, both in and out of costume, though his Mr.Gimmick persona is also playful. He tries to act as a parental figure and mentor to younger villains.

Bio:
Some villains are in it for the money, others for power, and some for the fun. One of the latter was Jake's mentor Henry Walker, the original Mr Gimmick. He was the inventor of the campy supervillain archetype, who broke the law using a certain theme. This fad was quite popular during the 50s and 60s, and what drew Jake into villainy.

Jake became a villain at the age of 13. Back then he was little more than a bullied loser, until he met an older man, who told him about villains and how they did what they wanted and never let themselves get pushed around. From these lessons Jake gained confidence to confront his bullies and defeat them, while also gaining a friend and mentor in the man, Henry.

Throughout the following years, Jake spent nights and weekends causing mischief as Mr. Gimmicks minion, Problem Child. When his knack for technology was discovered, Henry incorporated them to their new heists. Life was good and exciting, until that dreadful day, when the Dark Age began.

Henry retired, depressed over the direction heroes had taken, and told Jake to leave supervillainy as well in fear of what the Darks would do to him. But eventually Dark Age ended as well and with them the old heroics returned. And with them Jake returned as the second Mr Gimmick.

But like his predecessor, Jake is getting old and soon needs to find a successor of his own. But who would be worthy of following such a legacy?

Equipment:
At the moment Mr. Gimmick possesses the following:
-A body armor with interchangeable parts and colors.
-A similarly easy to modify escape car.
-A truck which he uses to carry the escape car and whatever other stuff he has with him.
- A bunch of calling cards with a red G.
- Current body armor parts include:
- Grappler
- Smoke grenades
- Thieve's Tools
- Goggles with multiple sights, including heat and night

Skills: Jake is a trained gadgeteer with some adventurer training, including boxing, added in, though he's using the gadgets more and more. Gadgets are designed with interchangeability in mind so that they can be reused multiple times. Jake is a talented escape artist and stage magician, which he uses to escape. He also knows a lot of creating costumes along with gadgets.

Name: Malcolm Winters
Super Hero Identity: Quarry
Age: 24
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Location: Austin, Texas
Ultra Type: Psychic

Appearance: Malcolm is a man who appears to be in his mid-twenties, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He is above average height and has a muscular build with broad shoulders, something which seemed to become more prominent after his powers awakened. He has a solid, angular face, with a strong jaw covered with light stubble and thick eyebrows.

His costume include a tight-fitting vest that leave his arms bare, coloured slate grey with a jagged white line like a seismograph recording an earthquake across his chest. His trousers, also grey, are baggy and made of a tough, canvas material and he wears heavy duty steel capped work boots. His mask covers the top part of his head, including his hair, leaving only his mouth exposed.

Personality: Quarry is a stubborn individual. It’s something he credits his survival to and something which defines the way he chooses to tackle life; he still considers himself fairly inexperienced as an Ultra and the villains he faces day to day are usually more experience, stronger or more skilled than he is. His stubbornness, his refusal to give up or stay down, his determination to keep going is what allows him to continue saving people.

And saving people is what is important to Quarry. He’d describe himself as a little idealistic, though his time as a costumed hero as tempered that a little, and his reasons for choosing to become a hero can boil down to wanting to be like the heroes he grew up reading about. It was pure comic book fantasy that led to him making his own costume and using his new powers for good, even though he should have been old enough to know better. He still kind of believes in the idea of good ultimately triumphing in the end even after all this time.

Backstory/Origin: Growing up in Austin, Texas was kind of a boring affair for the most part; the city was more than large enough to have things to do but not large enough to really have to deal with the Ultra issue that places like LA or New York seemed to deal with every other day. There were a few costumed heroes and villains in the past, the latter appearing all the way up to the late 80’s, but when Malcolm was a child at least they weren’t active anymore and no one seemed about to take their place.

Then Fuse showed up with a bang.

Fuse was a villain who just appeared one day, a made a pretty big deal out of himself in the process. Austin had apparently been growing complacent after a few years of not having to deal with Ultras so when one with the power to blow things up with his mind appeared no one was prepared to deal with it. The villain started off his career by robbing the largest bank in the city, not even trying to be subtle about it and sticking around long enough to confront the police when they responded; he blew up cars, tore apart building and generally just made a mess of downtown. Zero deaths, but a lot of injured.

That was the beginning of a new era in Austin. With no heroes to slow him down Fuse took over the crime element in the city, establishing himself as the top dog of the city. Suddenly, Austin was a hub of Ultra activity as villains arrived looking to either oust Fuse to take over for themselves or just looking to work for someone stronger and more successful for themselves; it should go without saying that the latter had more success. Heroes flocked to the city as well, either out of altruism or because they were looking to make a name for themselves; none of them stuck around very long after they realised how tough Fuse and his allies actually were.

All through this, the years of Fuse’s reign over the city, Malcolm’s life continued more or less as it had. He graduated High School and was accepted into the University of Texas in Austin where he studied engineering and materials science; something that would likely come in useful since the increase in Ultra activity meant that there was a lot more rebuilding going on. The city itself had become more hazardous and the chances of being caught up in trouble of some kind had increased, but the chances of property damage was far higher than the chance of being injured and Malcolm had managed to avoid everything so far. Until one day, one of Fuse’s fights took place in the University’s campus, right next to the building Malcolm was in.

The building Malcolm was in was damaged during the fight, the corner collapsing as the walls were blown open and the roof caved in. Malcolm himself was trapped under a couple tons of rubble, pinned to the ground but fortunately not crushed instantly. It was while he was pinned, while he lay there with a giant slab of concrete pushing down uncomfortably on him as he listened to the battle waging outside, that Malcolm discovered he was an Ultra. A psychic, to be specific.

Late bloomers weren’t unheard of, but they were certainly less common than those people whose abilities showed up early on in life or upon hitting puberty; it seemed that some people, while they had the potential for mutations, psychic abilities or even magic never reached that point. For a rare few, something later in life could trigger an awakening, without that person even knowing they were different until they suddenly started farting fire. It seemed Malcolm was one of those few. His new abilities allowed him to move the concrete off of himself with ease, freeing himself from the rubble and escaping before the rescue crews showed up and started asking questions.

It took a while for him to come to grips with his new reality and a while longer after that before he found the courage to find out what his power could do. Once he’d done that though, he started thinking. It seemed to him that Austin was in desperate need of a hero, a real hero, not just someone looking for publicity but someone who wanted to help the city and would stick around once Fuse was dealt with.

That was a little over two years ago. He’s still kind of working on beating Fuse, but he’s getting there.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: N/A

Skills: Knowledge of engineering and materials science

Abilities/Powers/Mutations:
Tactile Geokinesis – Quarry has the ability to move any earth and stone that he is in contact with. This allows him to lift multi-ton objects by simply placing a hand against it and move it as if it weighed nothing, provided it is made of the correct material. In order to activate this ability he must be in direct contact with the object in question, so placing his hand on a mound of loose soil and dirt will only allow him to manipulate exactly what he is touching and not the whole mound, as such his ability is most effective when used on large singular objects such as stone or man-made materials such as concrete. He cannot change the shape of the matter he is controlling only its position and orientation.

Stone Creation – In addition to being able to manipulate earth and stone Quarry is also able to create matter seemingly from nothing, in the form of a material similar to granite in appearance and weight albeit much harder and more durable; he does this by pulling energy from the Realm of Creation and manifesting it in the physical world. This ability is range limited, so he can only create matter within 20-30 feet of himself and takes longer the more mass is being created. He can control the shape and size of the matter while it is being created.

Increased Durability – On top of his other abilities, Quarry is considerably tougher than the average person due to his connection to the Realm of Creation allowing him to maintain a constant level of increased durability. He can survive a bullet from a small calibre weapon with nothing more than a bruise and survive a fall from a four storey building with a sprain. He is far from invincible, but he is certainly tougher than average.

Name: Richard Hardwick
Super Villain Identity: Fuse
Age: 38
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Location: Austin, Texas
Ultra Type: Mutant

Appearance: A man on the cusp of middle age, Richard is starting to show a few streaks of grey amidst his short cut brown hair. His eyes are a steely blue, deep set in a ruggedly handsome face with a neatly trimmed beard. His height is well above average at 6’ 3” and he has a somewhat stocky build, with a wide chest and a well-muscled physique.

Richard’s costume as Fuse is surprisingly understated for someone with the power to create explosions. A black head covering that hides his entire face. A tight fitting, long sleeved shirt with a black torso gradating to red along the arms until his forearms are a vivid crimson with similarly coloured gloves; this is then covered by a heavy, dark brown duster with shortened sleeves to reveal the brightly coloured sleeves underneath. His lower half is covered by a pair of plain black military fatigue style trousers and black combat boots.

Personality: Cunning, devious, intelligent and ruthless; Fuse is not someone to be underestimated. Ever since he made his first appearance in costume he has shown himself to be a devious individual, his actions well considered and thought out but executed with the level of brutality you would expect from someone with his power. He is not the type to shy away from violence as a means to an end; in fact he seems to favour it.

Those who interact with Fuse will find him well spoken, erudite and calm; he is more than smart enough to run rings around the people he usually deals with. However, he is not without a temper and not above personal grudges, even if he usually has the restraint not to lose control.

Backstory/Origin: Born and raised in Chicago to a middle class family, Richard’s early life was fairly easy going compared to most. He was a good student, with high grades, who graduated near the top of his class before moving onto university to study economics and accountancy. The only really notable occurrence during this time is that when he was thirteen he developed the ability to make explosions with his mind.

Richard falls into the category of mutants whose powers first develop when they hit puberty. It came as quite a shock to him, as you would expect, but somehow, through sheet luck or cunning, he was able to keep this ability quiet. No one, not even his parents or his best friends, had any idea what Richard was suddenly capable of. Keeping this hidden also meant he didn’t have much chance to practise or explore his ability, at least not until he left home to attend university at which point he began to learn as much as he could about his mutation.

In spite of the fact that he was now away from home and had more freedom to do what he wanted, Richard still kept his powers hidden and continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He spend the next four years studying and finished university with a bachelor’s degree in economics, before moving south to Texas to find work; or at least, that was what he told anyone who asked. For years Richard had been planning what to do with his new power, even since he had first discovered it, and while most teenagers that age might have come up with plans to become a hero or famous or rich, Richard had a different plan in mind.

Upon moving to Austin, a city he had chosen very carefully for its complete lack of prominent Ultras, he waited two years before, at the age of 26, he made his debut as Fuse.

It went as well as he had expected; the police were completely unprepared for him, as were the existing criminal element of the city which he soon took over, and with an ease even he did not expect he soon found himself in charge. The next few years were spent consolidating his power, expanding his operation, and variously recruiting and dealing with heroes or villains who sought to challenge him.

For the next ten years things went off without a hitch. Not a single hero operated within Austin for long, there wasn’t a single criminal enterprise that earned money in the city without giving him a cut and even the major villains and crime bosses in nearby cities new better than to try and remove him from power. Fuse had built himself his own little kingdom and everything was running smoothly.

Then the kid with the rock powers showed up and started making a mess of things.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: A criminal empire, Ultra subordinates and lieutenants, a small fortune in stolen wealth and a robotics genius to outfit him and his lackeys with equipment.

Skills: Accountancy, economics, expert negotiator, a good eye for distances and boxing.

Abilities/Powers/Mutations:
Explosion Creation – This ability allows Fuse to create randomised explosions by visualising a line in the air within his range of vision. Once the line has been visualised, explosions will occur randomly within a certain distance of this line, varying in size and intensity; the positions of the explosions vary but are always within a certain distance of the lines and are triggered sequentially down the length of the line from start to end.

The explosions are caused by the rapid compression of reactive components in the air around these lines to cause an explosion; the randomness and imprecision of the explosions are in part due to the unpredictable nature of these reactions and it is entirely possible for Fuse’s power to occasionally be a ‘dud’ in some cases. The size of the explosions is somewhat dependent on Fuse’s perception of how large the line is, i.e. they can be either close and small or far away and large based on where Fuse perceives them to be in space, as well as environmental factors such as the quantity of reactive materials in the air as well as current atmospheric conditions.

Despite the randomness of this ability, there is a maximum range to it as well as a maximum size and power to the explosions. Fuse cannot create a line any further than 200 feet from himself regardless of how far he can see and the explosions themselves are never stronger than to be able to cause a concrete structure to fracture or chip. The explosions themselves are more flash than substance, being loud and bright but creating more fire and heat than a shockwave.

Name: Dominic Reeves
Super Villain Identity: Payback
Age: 26
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Location: Austin, Texas
Ultra Type: Mutant

Appearance: Being slightly shorter than the average male and having a lean, lithe build Dominic doesn’t strike the most imposing figure, especially when compared to his boss Fuse. His hair is a dirty blonde, spiky and unkempt, and his eyes are blue; he has a short goatee that he keeps neatly trimmed. His narrow face is decorated with multiple piercings including several ear rings and studs, a nose stud and a few lip rings.

His costume is simple, designed to invoke images of a boxer approaching the ring; the main item is a long flowing hooded robe, similar to the kind boxers wear when entering the ring but made of a thicker material, coloured orange. Aside from this his clothing is fairly typical, often wearing a plain black t-shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans with a chain hanging from the belt loop over a worn pair of brown work boots. When expecting a fight his hands are covered by the kind of black padded gloves that martial artists use to protect their hands while sparring or fighting.

What his costume lacks, however, is a mask. He makes no attempts to hide his face while operating as a villain, probably because his identity was compromised a long time ago and he realises there is no longer any point in trying to hide it.

Personality: In Dominic’s world it is power, more than anything else, that rules the world. Power doesn’t come from respect or fear or money or anything else, it is the other way around; power, is the source of everything. This is the way Dominic was raised, the way he was taught, and the way he lives. He has seen what happens to those without power when faced with those who do, he has been both the powerless and the powerful and he would very much rather be the latter.

Currently Dominic considers himself powerful, though he also knows that he is employed by someone even more powerful. He is self-assured because of this, confident and cocky and sometime brazen in his actions. He is someone who lives in the moment, someone who likes to enjoy the pleasures of life while he can because he knows he can be made powerless at a moment’s notice. He doesn’t always think things through and can be driven by his emotions, especially his anger, if given reason to.

Backstory/Origin: Hailing from New York City originally, Dominic had a tough live growing up in one of the poorest areas of the city. He can barely remember his mother, who left when he was young, leaving him to be raised by a father who didn’t know much about raising a child and didn’t even particularly mean well. It should come as no surprise that Dominic fell in with a bad crowd under those kinds of circumstances and he was constantly getting into trouble both at school and with the law.

Trespassing, graffiti, shop lifting, fighting; Dominic led a life of petty crime from his early teens onwards and violence was often part of it, whether it be at home or on the streets. Things only escalated once his mutation kicked in and he started using his abilities to get back at anyone who had bested him in the past and started committing larger and more dangerous crimes.

It was only a couple of years later, aged sixteen, that Dominic found himself locked away. It was an armed robbery gone wrong, only with his power as the weapon and not a gun, which led to a stand-off with the NYPD that didn’t go in Dominic’s favour. Turned out his power didn’t make him as invincible as he thought and by this point the police had had years of practise dealing with Ultras of all kinds; his over confidence worked against him and he found himself in front of a judge with a rather harsh opinion of Ultras. He spent the next two years in a juvenile detention facility, the fact that he was a minor saving him as even though they wanted to impose the harshest sentence possible on the ‘evil and violent’ Ultra they couldn’t try him as an adult.

One consequence of his arrest however was exposure; with his trial came media coverage and after his sentence his name, face and even a description of his ability appeared in several newspapers and on websites both in the state of New York and even Nationwide. Now, anyone with an internet connection can find out who he is by searching based on a description of his appearance or his ability; both are likely to turn up a news story of his arrest or trial. This lack of anonymity poses certain problems for Dominic, especially given his chosen criminal career path, as his ability has become a glaring, recognisable trait that gives him away; making use of his power is like leaving an instantly identifiable fingerprint at the crime scene, meaning he has to give up on being a criminal or go completely off the grid.

About a year after being released from detention Dominic caught word of a villain in Austin who was making a name for himself on the national level. Fuse had seemingly taken over the city of Austin a few years ago and had so far managed to resist being captured by the heroes who tried to arrest him, or being ousted by the villains who wanted to take over; as the list of people who had lost to him grew the villain was being recognised more and more as a legitimate threat. With no other options and seeing an opportunity to put his skills to use, Dominic travelled to Austin with the intention of getting in touch with Fuse and offering his services. They have now been working together for six years

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: No permanent set of equipment, but he occasionally uses items provided to him by Fuse to complete a specific job or task.

Skills: Getaway driving, brawling, leadership experience

Abilities/Powers/Mutations:
Momentum Manipulation – Dominic has the ability to generate a field around his hands that can steal the momentum from an object and store it after converting it to kinetic energy. These fields appear as a glowing orange aura surrounding Dominic’s hands and feet and extend a couple inches past his wrist and above his ankles respectively; whenever an object strikes these fields their momentum is almost entirely stripped away, roughly 90% of it, absorbing it and reducing that objects speed and force. Dominic is then able to release this stored kinetic energy at close range, often taking the form of a punch of kick with the energy released at the point of impact.

Each field is separate and has its own store of energy and Dominic is able to approximate how much energy is held in each one, at least to the extent of knowing which one contains the most and when one is nearly empty. The energy cannot be stored indefinitely and the stored energy has to be released before the aura can be turned off. Dominic has never reached the point where he has lost control of the energy he is storing, mostly because he always makes sure to begin releasing energy when he feels his control start to waver at all; his current max seems to be storing enough energy to allow him to punch his way through a bank vault door.

Name: Katherine Silvers

Alias: Cerberus

Age: 1000+

Nationality: Egyptian

Location: New York City (For now)

Appearance: Few mercenaries embody the look of their chosen profession as well as Katherine does. She is lean, muscular, and heavily scarred. Katherine’s hair is black as pitch, shoulder length and her eyes are soft brown. Her body is covered in the faded grey tattoos of Egyptian origin and her skin is bronze. Katherine walks with a lazy gait and looks relaxed even in stressful situations, always with an easy smile. It’s hard to decipher what's going through her head, what she’s feeling as she keeps that lazy smile on her face at all times, rarely breaking her poker face.

Personality: “Live like there’s no tomorrow because there might not be,” is a motto Katherine has followed for as long as she’s owned the Empress’s Wrath. She drinks, gambles, and whores about like she fights, with lazy contentment. Her unique… situation would drive others to madness, maybe make them crave death, look for it even, or be grumpy, gruff sticks in the mud, stoic with their “mysterious past”. Katherine has no such reservations, you ask she’ll probably tell ya.

She’s loud at the pub, passionate when taking a lover, an enthusiastic gambler, and doesn’t say no to a good fight. She has no sense of self preservation when she fights though, mainly because she’s cursed with unlife, making her reckless, stupid even. Katherine does have a military mind and when she’s forced to actually strategize she can be surprisingly cunning, and ruthless. She plays for keeps when she fights, unless her opponent is dead or she is she’ll keep fighting; stubborn is what she is.

Katherine is a simple woman with simple needs. She lacks any sort of ambition, living day to day, bottle to bottle… bed to bed. She isn’t afraid to try new things however, finding quite a bit of joy in new activities.

Backstory/Origin: Katherine was sold into slavery at the age of nine, trained to be a whore, and traded masters several times before being bought by some mystic alongside a whole crop of other slaves ranging young to old. For months after, she and her fellow slaves were subjected to experiments at this mystic’s hands, always pushing how close to death he could push them, devising ways to bring them back. Katherine was never sure why they were put through the torture but she had been numb to it.

The truth was, he was trying to unlock the secrets of death itself and how to cheat it. The years went on and Katherine was among a particularly resilient group. He managed to seal her and two others’ souls into trinkets, soul jars he called them, and then killed them all. Katherine was the only one to come back to life. She promptly killed him, the experience changing her forever, and ironically giving her the will to live. From then on she wandered the desert for decades before crossing the mediterranean to land in Sparta. She found a kinship with the warrior culture of this Greek city-state and despite being forced to masquerade as a man, found a way to fight among their ranks, despite her nationality. She earned the name Cerberus during these centuries and kept it as her Alias.

Since, she has wondered from battlefield to battlefield, loving every minute of war. It wouldn’t be until the 1600s in France she would find something, someone, to fight for, a young French lady, Marie Beauchamp. This lady of semi-noble birth had a vision of France, Europe under her rule, and had begun laying groundwork to see this dream. Katherine met her by chance and the two fell into a whirlwind romance (only in France as she jokes). She acted as this woman’s bodyguard until a fire claimed them both, or so the assassins thought. Katherine painted France with their blood, and anyone else that had anything.

Since she made her way to the new world and has stayed there ever since. In recent years she’s branched out and found a career as a gun for hire, a sniper specifically. Since its invention, Katherine has loved guns, particularly long ranged sort and has been training herself with them for centuries. She took to customizing her own sort of weapons, baring a fondness for sniper rifles, and pistols. Throughout the years she’s gone by many names and aliases, this decade’s name is Katherine Silvers.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: Rifles, pistols (.45), knives.

Skills: Katherine has mastered a variety of fighting skills: knife fighting, several martial arts, firearms, and war tactics. If there’s a way to kill someone, she knows how to do it.

Abilities: Katherine can’t die pain and simple. That isn’t to say she is superhuman however, while she is at peak physical condition, she is no harder to kill than anyone else, it's just she doesn’t stay dead. Depending on the damage her body reconstitutes itself over the course of a few hours in the earliest. The trinket in question is a piece of bone jewelry, a pendant she keeps stashed at her home. While its hardier than one would think, enough force can shatter the thing.

Name: Ignacio Talpa

Super Hero/Villain Identity: The Sorcerer Supreme of Earth

Age: 557

Nationality: Spanish

Ethnicity: Spanish

Location: Granada, Spain.

Appearance: Face sake: Antonio Banderas



Personality: The past few centuries have seen Ignacio’s view points and opinions change many times, however the countless and often extraordinary circumstances in his life has shaped a man that is surprised by little and impressed by even less, his general plan for a situation is ‘come with a vague idea of what to do, and respond from there’ then on the second engagement with the same problem. ‘Come with a perfect plan A, and also plans B through Z.’ Because while it never hurts to be prepared he understands that if you ever come having planned to thoroughly for one thing, its not hard to be thrown for a loop and have everything fall apart at the first speed bump. He has many failures, and countless lives of others lost as the painful price of learning this lesson.

Having been raised during the late 1400’s, and not being able to read or write until he met Karv, his world was once tiny, only what the Church allowed the people to see, think and feel, once he began his training his mind was opened to the endless possibilities of the world and has since had an insatiable curiosity, it drives him to never stop his studies, leaves him open to always hearing out a new idea or theory however this has led to some close calls with the fabric of reality on more than one occasion. And has caused him to be a bit… to lenient with certain groups that exist today simply out of his want to see where things go. On top of his thirst for knowledge almost as a rejection of the way he was raised he is an incredibly open minded person, so long as you are not hurting another he doesn’t care what your beliefs or personal opinions on just about anything are, each person’s unique point of view is helpful in some way, even if it is only pointing out that someone probably shouldn’t be relied upon or listened to.

He is a patient man, he has felt that giving people the space to do as they please within reason is the best way to avoid conflicts, and its true in the 500 or so years that he has held his position rogue mages, maniacal sorcerers, world ending cults, near apocalypses, all of these things are at an all time low. However, while his fuse is long, the boom is big. When your cross the line with him there is really no going back, his trust is almost impossible to earn back and his solutions to ‘repeatedly problematic’ things tend to be EXTREMELY permanent in nature.

While very much a gentleman and a kind person, Ignacio is incredibly distance with those who have ‘mortal’ lifespans, this is a behavior pattern that has formed in the last 150 years or so, having seen enough people he cares about age and die, it hasn’t broken him, but made him subconsciously hesitant to form lasting and deep relationships with those who have limited life spans. He can often come off as cold or uninterested because of this.

Backstory/Origin: He remembers it well, the war to drive the Moors from his homeland of Spain. The bloody battles between the Christian forces of Europe and the Moors who had held the land of Spain for so long, refreshed by reinforcements from North Africa. At the time he was just man, however he would not remain so.
All his life he can remember extraordinary events that surrounded him. Small occurrences he couldn’t explain, during battle these only happened more often, a strong wind seeming to destabilize his opponent, some how seeing the proper path to take while scouting to avoiding the enemy. Often times he could swear he heard voices or say fantastic things, creatures in the night, he attributed to fear and anxiety. He can remember the day he met Karv, an old man that came from a land far to the north, a man who saved his life:
The battle was supposed to be easy, they outnumbered the enemy nearly three to one and were far more equipped, or at least it had appeared so. As the battle began and the opening melee broke out however it was very obvious that something was off. The enemies forces never seemed to SHRINK, if anything they were only growing. They shambled about wailing and tearing into the Christian forces, and no blow seemed to keep them down for long, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he stood surrounded an alone, hearing the last of his comrades perishing around him, a fear built inside of him, a burning fear of the terrible death that awaited him as the mutilated bodies stumbled towards him, arms out stretched, and he wasn’t sure what happened from his body flowed forth a swath of burning flames that scorched the bodies of those closest to him, causing them to fall in a pile of ashes.

After that he remembers feeling tired and falling to the ground, as his vision faded and more of the shambling corpses approached he heard a booming voice upon the wind and witnessed an old man descend from the very clouds, from his fingers flew light that consumed the battle field, and Ignacio drifted into the sea of unconsciousness.
When he awoke he was in a bed, in quite a grand furnished room. His wounds had been mended as well, he felt fatigued though, and groggy, like he had slept for days. Leaving the room he wandered around what appeared to be some great palace, though there were no windows, lights FLOATED along the walls. Through the maze of hallways his feet carried him, until he came upon a grand study, a fire blazing in the center of the room, held in the air by nothing at all it seemed, and at a grand desk sat the old man, this man would introduce himself as Karv, the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. What followed was a whirl wind of questions, each answered in time. Ignacio himself had powerful latent magic that was awakening, and it would irresponsible of Karv to leave it unchecked, untrained. So Ignacio began learning the ways of Magic, learned countless truths of the universe and a decade later, would witness the death of his master against a being of unexplainable existence, an inherit the roll of Sorcerer Supreme.

He moved the Sanctum Sanctorum to a pocket dimension sitting within the Alhambra in Spain, and has since stood watch over Earth, fending off threats from within and without the physical realm.

He has chosen to work with more of a carrot and a smaller stick than most of his predecessors. He has given those groups who are not inherently dangerous leeway to do as they please rather than try to dismantle ever cult in existence, a pointless endeavor that would be. He has bargained with certain of the Tamura Magic Loci. But he always observes, and he holds to the line he has set well. Cross the line, and you are dealt with, there is no mercy because he has spent his time in the position of Sorcerer Supreme making sure that line is clear, TO EVERYONE.

However he is no god, just a man, and thus much goes unpunished, hidden from view and detection, which is why he must always remain vigilant, and utilizes a number of allies within the magic and ‘mortal’ communities.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons: ‘Eye of Muninn’: this is a large jet black metal pendent upon a silver chain with a large eye shaped topaz gem in the center he often wears around his neck, it contains a powerful ‘clairvoyance’ spell that allows the user to see far distance, peer into areas blocked off by physical barriers and simple magics and can even see past certain magic illusions.

‘Ring of the Supreme’: This ring is affixed to his finger, he can’t take it off, and should the finger be removed the ring disappears and rebuilds the finger nearly immediately. It will even banish itself into a sub dimension if someone manages to steal it. It is the sign of the Sorcerer Supreme and only moves on to the next person to take the role. It has no other abilities besides acting as a Key to the Sorcerer Supremes’ Sanctum Santorum.

Skills: Ignacio lacks what many would call ‘physical prowess’ while in good shape for a human being he is by no means special or a stand out, especially among the ranks of Ultras and even other Standards that operate as heroes. He relies on magic for most all things.

Abilities/Powers/Mutations: Ignacio has spent centuries mastering the mystic arts, aided by the countless tools and ancient relics at the disposal of the Sorcerer Supreme, gathered and passed down from one to the next.
He has an expansive knowledge of numerous schools of magic, knowing most any ‘utility’ spell one can think of with a confident command over elemental, barrier and transportation magic.
While he has studied many darker more ‘forbidden magics’ to be able to fight them he has never practiced them on the moral standing alone, meaning he has no ability in the spaces of: necromancy, sanity warping, reality warping, blood magic, fear based magics and mind control magics as well as some others.

Name: Damien Markov
Anti Hero Identity: Hellhound
Age: 15
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: half demon
Location: Dallas Texas

Appearance:


Personality: Due to his demonic heritage, Damien has a fiery temper and can very impulsive and rash when it comes to decision making. Damien views himself as a staunch individualist and a genuine disdain for people who constantly look to others to help them. For Damien any acts of heroics on his part is because of his own objective idea of justice. Many have referred to Damien as an objectivist and he has a general disdain for government authority.

Damien prefers to live life on the edge and isn't afraid to go head on into a dangerous situations with little fear. Having the blood of a fire demon inside him means that the urge for chaos and destruction burns deeply within him. He uses vigilantism to help keep his demonic impulses under control since most people don't care if he makes criminals suffer.

He also has a cocky side that will show up if he feels that his power is greater than that of his enemies and will toy around with them, which can leave him open to making mistakes and surprise attacks. Damien is also very tenacious and will make sure to take down as many foes as he can before he goes down and he is not afraid to turn the battlefield into a flaming inferno if he feels that he has to in order to come out on top.

Backstory/Origin: Damien's father was a fire demon by the name of Haelm, who was spawned from the Realm of Conception and was revered for his great strength among ancient cultures. When the modern world came about his name became obscure and only remembered by those who practiced the occult. One day a cult of demon worshipers wanted to be given the power of the Demon Fire burning within Haelm and they performed a summoning ritual bring him to the material plane.

Once summoned Haelm offered them power by having one of their female members sire him a child who would have powers beyond any normal human. Damien's mother was the first to agree to the proposal and through their courtship Damien was born. He was raised within the cult who sought to use him as a weapon and this included his own mother. They taught him how cast spells of fire and destruction and made plans to use his abilities to seize power and live like kings and queens. But like with fire Damien was a fiery independent spirit and hated being controlled, he was his own person.

When he was 14 he decided that he had enough of the cult and his mother and left them, but not without having to show his incredible power by scorching a few of them who tried to stop him. After he left the cult his father appeared before him and explained to him that he was destined to help bring about the end of the world. Damien told his father that knowing this wouldn't stop him from living his life how he saw fit and simply turned away and went on with his life.

Thanks to having amazing gifts, Damien was able to find work as a mercenary when not doing the occasional act of heroics on the side and it helped channel his desire for destruction. He took the alias Hellhound, which became a widely renown name thanks to his year of mercenary work and vigilantism.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons:

Skills:

Abilities/Powers/Mutations:
fire Magic: Since Damien is half fire demon he has access to a powerful form of fire magic granted to him through his demonic heritage. Because of this he has a natural affinity for fire based spells.

Flight: He can fly through the use of jets of flames that propel him through the air like a jet engine.

Flame Beasts: Damien can summon hellish beasts made out of fire that attack his foes. Summoning one doesn't take too much magic, but the more he summons the more magic he drains from his body, which can lead to fatigue.

Fireblast: This offensive spell creates a large ball that Damien fires out of his hands and tries to engulf his foes. The size of this attack is determined by how much magic he puts into it.

Dragon Jet: Damien breathes out a jet of flames that explodes upon contact with his target. The power of this spell is determined by how much magic is used.

Inferno Wall: This spell allows Damien to create a wall of flames that he can use as both a offensive and defensive technique. The size of the wall can vary depending on the amount of magical energy put into.

Meteor Storm: Damien creates a glowing red demonic pentagram and balls of fire shoot out of it in rapid succession. He can have the pentagram appear above his foes and rain fire down upon them and he can have the pentagram appear in front of him to attack his opponents head on.

Eruption: He unleashes a fiery explosion from his body and can vary the radius depending on the power put into it.

Disguise Spell: Damien's demonic heritage allows him to use a disguise spell, which he uses to keep a low profile and blend in with normal people.

Name:
Monte Corbett

Super Hero Identity:
"Predator"
Derived from "The Conroe Predator", a name which appeared in a few Texas newspapers after a series of attacks by an unknown, unseen, and uncaught large cat. It has since disappeared, both from the location and from the news. In spite of this, rumor of "The Predator" has shifted to other states ranging from Arizona to California, although these are suspect for obvious reasons and leaving it at best a cryptid. The urban legend has not been shaken however, and has since been adopted due to its nature as something that strikes a bit of rightful fear into people.

Age:
Four years, equivalent to approximately thirty-two in humans.

Nationality:
American
Born in the United States of America, Monte, rather "Predator", is a naturalized native to the environment, even as a species not found in North America. It is assumed, given their background in Conroe, that they are a Texas native and are most likely a formerly captive animal.

Species:
Bengal Tiger
Panthera tigris tigris
The Bengal tiger is one of the most prolific large, endangered, exotic carnivores in the world, held extensively in captivity by various conservancies, wildlife refuges, public zoos, and private ownership. These great cats have historically reached sizes up to 388kg, nearly nine-hundred pounds, and are legendarily known to be the Indian "man-eaters" of old, although any of these instances today are now rare. They are the iconic image of the tiger and one of the world's most commonly recognized species.

Location:
Los Angeles, California (Disputed)
Conroe, Texas
It is not clear if the instance of animal related maulings are from the same tiger reported outside of Conroe, but conjecture would suggest it is better than chance. The real questions being the how and why this has been possible, as the two locations are over one-thousand-five-hundred miles apart. Currently, there does exist an internal bulletin by the Los Angeles Department of Animal Care and Control and Los Angeles Police Department for a reported "unspecified large felid carnivore".

Appearance:

Monte Corbett, better known as "The Predator", is a large adult male Bengal tiger weighing in at approximately 231kg, some five hundred pounds, and measuring from nose to tail at 295cm, or around nine feet, six inches. A sizable animal and one defined by the rust orange and black striped camouflage, the outwardly most distinct creature obviously belongs in the jungle and not the urban environment. The relatively short fur, sleek, heavily muscled physique, and elaborate feline design make it clear to any onlooker that they are contending with a dangerous, well armed carnivore, even if no exceptional elements are in play. Remarkably however, the tiger bears little evidence of previous skirmishes with only very, very minor, near indistinguishable scarring, and seems to be in peak condition all around.

As well, the dim shine of the animal's gold-amber eyes have some underlying spark in them that is almost unsettling to peer into, although such an experience is usually rare and requires being uncomfortably close to something with large hooked claws and pointed fangs. This is all punctuated by a certain saunter and swagger the animal has, a visible confidence to it; there is no mistaking a tiger for what it is and thinks itself to be.

Personality:
While Predator is, as with many tigers, what a person would consider relatively high strung, there is a particular casualness to it that suggests that is just the nature of the beast, as well as the confidence and level of aggression that makes them strikingly feline. Perceptive, judgmental, and oddly distant, there is no clear line when dealing with the beast or even just what they really are at heart. It adds to the element of mystery of all large cats, the kind that make something already so dangerous even more fearsome, and the Predator is no exception.

Why it does what it does there is no easy explanation for, rather just a sense that the bad people of the world need to be reminded that something worse than them is always out there, awaiting, and if it really wished to, could end them swiftly. For the Predator, there is just something amusing and endlessly entertaining about being a highly refined natural weapon with a sense awareness, almost as if this is some grand game they were cast into. The struggle of right and wrong is all present in the mind yet, almost to be expected of an animal like a cat, they see it as just the way things are. This disassociation from any real conventional morality makes them difficult to get along with and arguably very alien. How does one convey to an animal the intricacies of why people do what they do, good, bad, and otherwise?

This is not to say the tiger is without humor or devoid of emotion, but there seems to be a fine line between poking fun at the misery of others and tearing, clawing, unquenchable animal fury. Just where that is and why is potentially a question for the ages. Although it should be noted, like any cat, most pronounced the larger they come, they have a fickleness to them and humor or anything of loss at their expense does not go over well. Predator is no exception in this regard and might be as quick to feign a smile as to issue deathly scowl.

Backstory and Origin:
Born into private ownership in Texas, Monte was the male cub in the litter of two belonging to the Corbetts and was, initially, an unremarkable but still exotic animal. Accompanied by a sister, the cat was reared with the intent of being kept in the family rather than serving as a future trade. However, by the time Monte came to adolescence, it was becoming clear the family could not keep them or their siblings indoors and soon hastily built an outdoor enclosure. This was further constructed with urgency as a strange, pervasive feeling of urgency fell over the family, who were convinced Monte was a bit too self-aware and cunning for a tiger cub, and while they would never admit it, they suspected something stranger was afoot, if only by the way it seemed to understand them with little effort.

This change brought with it being relegated to the outside world within a chain-link enclosure and the young tiger seeming to spend all of its time staring off into the distance through the fence, walking the line, or observing all the features of the cage. While the Corbetts were aware of several seeming would-be escape attempts, their odd tiger never did disappear, until one day it all but vanished without warning, leaving sibling behind. The only trace of it being prints and then none at all.

A young adult, the tiger was not entirely fond of abandoning the human family, but something had awoken in the creature that gave the drive to do so. Really it was just realizing that he was a tiger and in fact, that he was even aware of that. It had never struck the animal before but now it wasn't avoidable. All that time left thinking, there was a realization something should do done with it. As fate would have it, the tiger could not shake his memories either from what he had heard and seen at home; there wasn't a shortage of bad people in the world, even just outside the fence.

It wasn't long before the urban legend of "The Conroe Predator" began circling through the news as the tiger hunted, stalked, battered, disabled, and even mauled the worst of the worst. It was simple enough initially, unrefined and unpracticed, but as the natural skill of a hunter evolved, so too did the exceptional talent; leaps of faith across entire buildings, outrunning speeding cars, stalking by mere thought. Soon it became a game of sorts, trying to find new ways to evade detection and enact revenge but it did not last forever. After some time Monte, now "Predator", wandered until the largest city ever seen was appeared in the way.

It offered new opportunities...

Tools, Equipment, and Weapons:
Natural Weapons
As with any other Bengal tiger, Predator has an assortment of naturally gifted weapons in the form of both claws and teeth. Tools and weapons alike, the claws and fangs of a feline serve a number of roles but are primarily weapons. They allow the individual animal to climb, swim, and run, as well as fight with highly evolved skill.

Skills:
Feline Physiology
Compared to humans, all large felids are notably stronger than a man, several times over, as well as being measurably tougher and more agile, more fleet of foot, and able to regularly perform what would be "superhuman" feats. They no less feature a number of highly attuned "exotic" senses and innate, instinctual talents that allow them to act and react without conscious thought or recognition of it.

Physical Aptitude
The sheer difficulty and demand of a life involving such dangerous game has pushed Predator to the prime of physical prowess possible for them. There is little that can be done to further improve bodily ability by mundane means, creating perhaps one of the most dangerous apex predators on the planet.

Abilities and Powers:
All psychic abilities draw their power from a reserve of psionic energy that acts as a pool in the awakened mind. This reservoir only replenishes with time and rest, making it best used in moderation. If fully tapped, no psychic talent can be manifest until it recovers.

Egoist Psychometabolism
The ability to mentally manipulate any physical portion of one's own body is the primary talent of Predator. It allows the alteration of any bodily component, from making claws sharper than glass, to gaining the ability to leap several times a normal distance, causing a surge of rapid autoregeneration, or even making the body seemingly as tough as iron or as heavy as lead, among others.

Telepathic Camouflage
The power to vanish from sight in the mind of another is an ability of Predator, as anything affected by its telepathy can suffer a mental blind spot. Observers cannot see the subject with their own eyes. They can only see it by concentration on its location or by something other than sight. Anything without a mind is unaffected.

Telepathic Speech
The Predator has learned to reach out with thought and initiate dialogue to other minds over a short distance with limited power. Recipients can close off the conversation by concentrating on doing so and anything without a mind cannot be communicated with in this way.

Telepathic Super Sensory
As long as a mind is within range of telepathic speech, Predator can roughly gauge that mind's direction similar to a compass, but cannot pinpoint its source. This sensory can be foiled by the individual concentrating on doing so and anything without a mind is not affected.

Age: 19
Nationality: Atlantean - Which I guess is weird because I never really been there before, but it’s not like everyday you can say your Nationality is German and you turn into an eight tentacled octopus monster.
Ethnicity: Murkfolk - is the technical term - There’s apparently a whole caste system down there humans don’t know about and Merfolk is kind of err simplified I guess.
Location: Los Angeles - Ugh please fix the air quality around here





What a strange young man. Locks of black hair, long locks of black hair, that have an unusual curl to them. Nearly as if they aren’t quite like the hair on top of your head. His skin is pale and glossy, and he has a masculine beauty about him that you could chalk up to his age, but the smoothness and the long eyelashes give him an androgynous appearance to his look. He’s seen often wearing a serious expression on his face, as if he’s in deep thought constantly and his wardrobe is various from detective chic to lazy I just got out of bed to anywhere in between. It’s hard to peg his style because he doesn’t necessarily focus on those aspects. He accepts whatever his brother and his girlfriend give him.

His blue irises are enigmatic with a strange energy to them, often they remind you of the ocean. Catching the light they radiate with an even deeper blue that no human could achieve. It’s piercing and drags you into the depths of his gaze, which to be quite frank is intimidating largely due to his consistent serious expression.

He’s shorter than what you expected though, standing at 5’5”, 165cm, he doesn’t have the frame of someone imposing and tough. Lean and somewhat skinny, he looks like one push would do him over and that he’d probably fall over quickly, as well as bruise easily considering how smooth and glossy his skin is. The lack of calluses and the lack of natural flaws in his skin give him an uncanny creepy vibe and likely why the media chose to out him. There’s an uncanny nature to his look, though most people wouldn’t be able to put their finger on it.



His light voice also betrays him as well, it lacks the imposing lash that his otherwise expression declares. His voice is smooth and classically light, not that it cannot be mistaken for a boy’s voice, but there is a cadence to it that makes it easy to listen to, it is pleasant and has a low hoarseness to it. You simply nod and turn the opposite direction leaving the young man to do whatever it is that he does at this time of night with that kind of expression on his face.







Pushing back his hood and his hair out of his face he watches as the man runs off in fear. Good. Legs have transformed into eight, black tentacles, each black, and greasy looking. A necklace of seafoam, with radiant different colors looks like a necklace of floating eyes around, a black suit that seems partially integrated with his skin. A poncho with a hood with cat ears seems to be the only thing that personalizes this hero. Just another hero in what appears to be an oily, black, suit on his upper body, and his lower body, several tentacles each producing bubbles and slimy mucus. Hair has transformed into it’s true form, unnaturally black, slick tentacles, but his face remains showing off that Atlantean merfolk in his bloodline - despite their feud that has separated Atlanteans.


In length he only grows several inches taller 5’10”, that’s from head to the tip of his tentacles, he’s a much more imposing figure than he ordinarily is.


Partial transformation, let’s face it, it’s not everyday someone is going to see a 5’10” octopus monster resting in the streets of Los Angeles, for convenient maneuverability Blu/Lukas spends more time in a bodysuit made of his own skin in partial transformation, with a seafoam necklace, than trying to slide across the street with eight tentacles. Belt was Nadia’s idea for “professional hero look”.


Personality:




It is the anniversary of the death of CEO Michael Peterson, brutally attacked by an Ultra. The public shocked that anyone could do such a thing, but those who remained awake knew that this was the danger Ultra’s posed on the world. Lukas Demaionewton went before trial and we as the people watched as he denied the allegations of his murder. A year later, I wonder in this editorial, what could possess such young killers, is it the power, does it control them? I am about to enter the lion’s den and enter Los Angeles State Prison in order to speak with the young killer who terrorized the streets of Los Angeles one year ago.

The cell masquerades the darkness that lurks below, as a boy has scattered posters of his favorite video games, on his side of the cell. Books he likes to read. Is this what has given birth to his violent tendencies? All this schlocky, hyper violent media. I warn you now dear reader, violence at a young age does mold and shape our children’s minds. Evident here, as a cheesy superhero stands in a victory pose, justifying his violent streak with a message of false positivity. I see now in this cell, helps me get a little closer to the killer’s mind.

I enter a blank room, where the boy sits in a metal chair. He looks ordinary, like any other boy on the streets. But his uncanny appearance and the serious expression that plagues this seventeen year old mind, mask the violence he hides.

“Lukas Demaionewton,” I address him all the same, as a fellow human being. But I ask you dear reader, is he a human being? Is he really deep down in that heart of his?

“I mean yeah that is my name,” he replies in an anti-authoritarian way, his true colors showing. A lack for the rules. Admiring vigilantes and violent heroes in the media.

“I’m Emily Jordans of True Media,” I continue to treat him as I would any person, a calm, and respectful tone. Though does he deserve it?

“And I guess you’re here because you want me to answer some questions,” he replies, continuing with his anti-authority tone, he sits back, relaxed. Does he even have any regret?

“In fact I do, I am writing an article on your case, revisiting details, and your account,” I reply, I continue to smile and try to push through his rude behavior, “It has been a year since Michael Peterson has died. And no one has heard a confession from you yet. Are you willing to own up to your actions now that the dust has settled? You’re already imprisoned and the jury already found you guilty. Do you finally find yourself guilty?”

“They found me guilty because they don’t like Ultras, it be like the jury finding a black man guilty because - they don’t like black men,”he justifies his actions. It’s evident to me, all though I am no psychiatrist, that he has a serious case of anti social behavior, a deep seeded psychopathy.

“Difference is the black man doesn’t have powers that take lives away from others, or scares the city half to death with their violent, explosive and destructive nature,” I try to reason with him.

“Guns, knives, bombs,” he list off, “I mean ordinary people have the same means to destroy cities, and kill people without the powers.” clearly he’s trying to deny to himself the horrible things he did. Michael Peterson likely begging for mercy that night and he killed him cold blood. Visions of knives, bombs, and the belief that Standards would come after Ultras drove this man to kill Michael Peterson he said it himself.

“So, you killed Michael because you are worried Standards will try to destroy Ultras?” I have caught him in his web of lies. His truth is about to be exposed.

“What - no,” he denies, he is trying to keep me from getting close to the truth. The truth is that he is a young man who glorifies dangerous media, turned to vigilantism to defend himself against the Standards using his Ultra abilities to snap a man’s neck, he view himself superior in every way to Standards.

“How old will you be Lukas when it finally eats away at you the horrible things you have done?” I finally break, his behavior, his lack of treating or valuing other humans lives is just too much for me to bare. I admit dear reader I got emotional at the end because this young man won’t cry for the victims in his wake.

“I have done nothing,” he states again standing up, it startles me, I am taken aback. He’s finally showing that bubbling cauldron of anger he holds inside. I for a moment feared for my life as he gave me an intense stare, the stare of a young killer.

“Eighty, on your deathbed, just admit it, admit what you have done and the world will leave you alone,” I am so close to a confession. I am so close to tell him the truth. When the boy let’s out a frustrated growl.

“Stop it!” he shouts at me, “Stop it and leave me alone!” he continues to play the victim. He continues to believe he is the persecuted. He continues to believe he holds no responsibility for the lives he has taken, justified by the reasoning of Us versus Them. Standards versus Ultras. This is the mind of a young killer.

One with power so fathombly great, and beyond our understanding. I will remember his haunting gaze, as he considered to tear me apart in that interview. His vision will haunt me until the day I die. And this sense that I haven’t yet uncovered the truth for my readers, worries me. How can I warn them, how can I share to you the reader how to spot an Ultra who might want to harm you, when the answers are right there in the generation of Powered Killers?

She’s so pretty, her hair has grown out a little, but the fact she has come to visit him, his heart is beating with excitement. He touches the glass she’s behind.

“You came?!” he says excitedly.

“I don’t believe the things they say about you Lukas,” she says with a smile, a ray of hope, behind white walls, behind the coldness of these hallways.

“I am so lucky to have you,” he whispers looking sadly down at his feet.

“I have already thwarted off anyone who thinks they can date me, I’m waiting for this really cute boy, who,” she lowers her voice,”turns into a fish.”

He raises his head up and smiles at her, “I am not a fish, But I won’t let this place change me, I refuse to let it change me. I promise I’ll come back the same.”

She blows him a kiss and he catches it. It’s so warm. A memory something to hold onto, something to keep so this place won’t swallow him whole.

Sometimes it’s hard to say a place like that doesn’t change someone because it does. It denies you a sense of individuality. You another number, another statistic, treated all the same. In white walls, in white cells that you share with another individual. Someone who scares you, someone who - despite all your power - could hurt you. They are the same age as you, but some of them really do need the help, some of them really are the way they portray you. And you hold onto one thing, that in this world, that two people you love are waiting for you and that they believe you. It’s hard to say that the loneliness and the isolation doesn’t change you. It’s hard to say it hasn’t changed you.

Despite troubled times it is easy to say that Lukas is an extremely strong willed individual. It’s something that people admire the most about him. That Lukas stands firm, he stands tall and despite the people who try to cut him down Lukas is firm in his ideals and holds onto the truth. He won’t turn his back towards the light at the end of the tunnel. While people may try to tell him the light isn’t true, or he’s just imagining it - he knows when they are trying to deter his sights on something and when they are correct.

And despite the seriousness of his expression, Lukas is admired for his ability to be quick witted, and he’s got a sassy tongue. Something he’s learned to thwart others who try to shame him. He’s powerfully loyal to those who earn it and protective of those with intense passion to the ones he loves. If it were up to Lukas he’d like someday to be a world where Ultras worked alongside the enforcement. Worked alongside the law. Lukas has always admired those that try to enforce moral good into the world, it’s probably why he strived for a long to help and aid them. Probably against his brother’s protest, though he knew it was just to protect him.

For Lukas it’s important that Ultras gain a social identity and what better way of gaining a social identity than the one that other people praise, use the word Hero like they do the soldiers, the EMT, the doctors, the police officers. They could stand alongside these iconic heroes. But that’s an idealistic dream sometimes it feels like.

Considering what he’s been through, now it feels more like a mission on clearing his name. Proving people wrong that he’s not some psychotic murder. All though strong will, that determination, is chipped at when he realizes what the news has said and done about him. What millions of people think of him. He tries hard not to let those words get to him, but it does, it hurts. He worked so hard in earning the trust of others as a good guy. As a hero. As someone who people could look up to, the way he looked up to good people and now he’s a monster.

And it’s hard to say when Lukas has a scowl on his face naturally, or how he can be a bit more serious for his age. While Lukas is this sassy, sarcastic, kid, he can also be quite a thoughtful one. One who understands complicated things that adults aren’t ready to think kids know these things. Or that society thinks he should know. His intelligence has been a hindrance because it puts him at odds for people. Lukas has never been the type of individual to go into a situation guns blazing. He’s thought about it. Plotted for weeks. And spent days making sure he understands every situation. Truth is that Lukas understands physiology he’s not meant to be taking torpedoes and missiles to the body, so he tries as many precautionary task. As he wants as little harm to others and to himself.

On top of that all Lukas is also an average teenager who worries about his relationships, and how other kids see him. He worries about what people say about him and it does get him down, sometimes he can be broody and a bit pouty. When people say things he doesn’t like he has a moment of shutting down. He can be kind of direct and blunt, which pushes others away.

He likes playing games, reading comics, enjoys espresso, and when he’s not being a superhero he use to be quite the environmental activist. You know before being put into jail. He educated the community about cleaning up the ocean and cutting the hole plastic traps from their soda cans. He dislikes lies, in fact he dislikes people trying to ruin people’s reputation more than saying killing is bad. To him that’s just something people should know. He also dislikes offensive smells, like strong perfumes, and strong foods like garlic. He dislikes the smell of city sometimes too, car pollution, and whatnot.

Daily Skills:
Not everything in life is surrounded by being a hero, we all have lives to live and we all have to deal with the real world. We can’t be swallowed by our Ultra identities, I mean some can - but I call that obsession. I’d prefer to be my Ultra side be a uniform I wear when needed.

Remembering details - sure this helps his hero work as much as it helps in his daily life, but Lukas has always been good at remembering details. Nothing really escapes him if it’s out of order or there’s a pattern someone might not recognize - he may be able to spot it right away. A man’s nervous habit, the way someone clears their throat, where they put their items. How organized they are, etc. But then he remembers things like, that building use to be a Fun Zone, oh wow they went out of business.

Laundry - lesson, don’t ever let my brother do your laundry for you. He’s always uses too much soap, doesn’t know how to set the dryer or washing machine to proper dials for different clothes. You want that cashmere sweater stay a cashmere sweater, don’t let Robert touch it. I got you. I am like a freer dry cleaner. Just expect a good thank you in return

Swimming - comes with the territory of being an Atlantean, does that count as cheating I wonder, my swim club always use to say that I am not human in the water, and well yeah I am not. So - cheating?

Romantic Stuff - just going to put all of the kind romantic stuff into one category. I mean there has to be a reason why Nadia has stayed with me. Poetry, making sure I know her needs, listen to her, communicate with her, making sure to talk through our arguments, that sort of stuff. Wicked dates.

Cooking - yeah don’t let my brother touch the stove either. I had to eat his cooking for five years before I got to help with cooking. Magically our food started getting better tasting. Probably because I know what goes into what.

Hero Skills:
It isn’t that I don’t use these skills in my day to day life, but it isn’t like walking into the bank requires a detailed strategy either. That be exhausting if you lived your life like that.

Being Stealthy - look I have learned when your as lightweight as me, your feet don’t make much noise and there are a lot of places villains like to hangout that someone doesn’t want you being there. So I have learned to slip in and out of places, like a cat burglar - okay bad analogy. Like a burglar doing good - okay now I am digging myself into a hole.

Strategizing - I am not like my brother I don’t have tough skin that gives people papercuts, nor does my skin have the touch of rough sandpaper. Honestly things hurt me more than him, it’s also good to know what you’re getting yourself into. So I like to plan and plot. I am not married to the plan, but at least having an idea of how things can go is a lot better than not.

Tracking - Turns out villains don’t stay in one place and sometimes they flee the scene. You kind of have to know how to follow them after that or you’re shrugging your shoulders - better luck next time kid. Turns out Villains aren’t always so smart either and don’t realize they leave things behind to actually track them down. That or seafoam is always good to attach to their bottom of their shoes. Makes a nice trail.

Tools/Equipment/Weapons:
When you have your skin as a body suit it dawns on you can’t carry much and the belt Nadia gave me is more fashionable than it is to carry anything. All my preparation is done at home.

Kind of just have the standard tools, a computer to organize and file the villains we fight, and to track them down if need be. Look I am not ultra rich and I am not that kind of intelligent.

Mutations:

Atlantean Physiology -

Everyone has a tale of Atlantis, and everyone has a tale of the Atlanteans. That they are beautiful men and maidens, who lure sailors to their doom. While other tales say that they are peaceful race who guide sailors lost at sea. Both are true in some sense, it really depends on the King in charge at the time and what laws are informed. Though that isn’t really the time to tell those stories, instead we begin at the very beginning, at the basics of Atlantean Physiology. To simmer an Atlantean down into a basic is difficult because between the Sacred Atlantean and the Murkfolk there are various differences among them.

We begin with the Sacred Atlantean - the first image that anyone conjures up of any Merfolk is that of a humanoid man or woman with a human upper half and a lower half a tail. Now the Sacred Atlantean tail can be various in shape and design, but the stereotypical style the one worshipped by man and other Atlanteans is the classic fish scale and classic human beauty.


The Sacred Atlantean are known for many things, they are capable swimmers for instant, they can outswim even the fastest Olympic champion even if he dare tried and cross miles of water without exertion. They have to be, their life is in the water, on the water, it surrounds water and they have to endure whatever the waves brings them.

The next notable feature of the Sacred Atlantean is the ability to breathe and speak underwater. Something which humans cannot. Science still hasn’t figured out the complex system that allows the Merfolk to both breathe underwater and not need air, but also be able to surface and accept oxygen.

Merfolk seem to also have the capability to understand sonar sound underwater as well as have empathy towards aquatic life, able to contact with them. It is even said that Merfolk possess some kind of ability whether that ability is an affinity towards Magic or if that affinity is more akin to an Ultra none are truly sure. No one has ever studied Merfolk to really know.

Murkfolk on the other hand, they are the the individuals who lurk in the depths. Sailors tell tales of Merfolk drowning them, or Sirens luring men out to sea. Ugly aquatic creatures who change shape to mask their true hideous form, to lure men and woman out to sea and drown them. Tales of Krakens, and mythical sea creatures are likely the Murkfolk and they have been villainized since the dawn of time. By their own people and humankind. Some Murkfolk have taken on this identity, many of them have become Shadows of the Sea. If they are to be villainized then they will gladly accept it.


Murkfolk have a similar physiology to their Mer counterparts. They can breathe underwater and they can swim rather well, they can understand sonar and even speak with aquatic life. However, the Murkfolk have other tricks up their sleeves.

Many of them, for whatever, reason are shapeshifters. They have the ability to go from something human like to their dark and twisted shapes some sailors speak of. And many of them have better vision in the dark due to the fact that they are subjected to the Murk of the ocean. A dark, low light place, right before the deepest part of the sea. Some Murkfolk have even went farther from the Murk, to the deeper part of the sea and possess bioluminescence capabilities.

Abilities/Powers:

This is where the controversy begins, no one is sure if the Altaneans possess magic or if they possess abilities like Ultras. No one has ever studied one, but the abilities an Atlantean has is as unique and variant as an Ultra does to one another. What one Atlantean can do is different from another Atlantean, all though some of it may be inherited by the more dominant parent gene. Though no one truly knows the nature of their abilities and no one really can say. Unless they had an Atlantean to study on.

Liquid Skin -

An adaptation of his environment, Lukas skin isn’t entirely dry, it is actually quite slippery in his Murkfolk form. This slippery skin keeps him from drying out, but it also makes it sort of hard to hold onto him. It’s often sticky and slippery, it is this mucus on his skin he mixes with air bubbles to form his seafoam. Lukas also uses this slippery skin to squeeze through tight spaces others cannot, such as ventilations grates, maybe even spaced apart bars.

Seafoam -

It is actually a mixture of air and his mucus that seeps out from his suckers that creates his seafoam. This seafoam though combined with his mucus has different properties than the mucus. It is a sticky substance that allows him to stick an individual in place as a temporary means of immobilizing them - maybe up to a minute before the foam begins to fizz away. It is also quite slippery, so he can easily use it to make the floor slick. And with enough air he can use his seafoam to form bubbles around people to help them breathe underwater.

Bioluminescence -

For extra adage Lukas possess the ability of bioluminescence. This doesn’t at first seem to provide much usefulness, considering you don’t want to be a nightlight usually when you’re trying to sneak around. But it can provide light to those who cannot see in the dark waters or even in the dark itself. He also uses it to disorient his enemies. The seafoam around his neck and formed from his suckers has the shape of eyes and often can be quite hypnotic, throwing people off in a trance they can shake off within a few seconds, but often that’s all he needs to subdue an individual.

In the earliest histories of merfolk, were tales of strange aquatic beings. Often depicted as evil or as hunters of the ocean by early men. Strange and alien to most humans, they began stories of aquatic humanoids who would lure you into the depths on foggy nights and submerge you. While true the earliest merfolk did surface to land on misty nights it was not out of malicious intent. Though some wonder if the early language barrier between humans and the not yet known Atlanteans was partially to blame. Or perhaps it was their alien look. Soon though the curious fear of the unknown began to turn to more lucrative. As people began to realize the value of catching a Merfolk, a side business began before the major cities ever arose. That being of Norse Vikings and other men of the sea catching Merfolk for sport, recognition, tales of conquering the sea. Many of the Merfolk then didn’t have the power to defend themselves, great swimmers, and easily able to escape capture they couldn’t command the seas, nor did they possess the magic Merfolk are later known for.


Seeking refuge the Merfolk fled to grottos, seen less and less at the surface of water and more and more in the underground the Merfolk prayed and prayed for assistance. The birth of Quairres is an age old question of the chicken or the egg, were the prayers heard by a Tamura or was a Tamura created out of their plight? Story goes the Merfolk had a vision or a dream of Quairres trying to reach for them, thought the translations of early Atlantean history is faded and broken. Soon as the humans expanded on the surface, underwater grottos became places of worship of a Tamura. Statues of Quairres were erected, said to draw energy from the moon. The tides would completely submerge these temples during high tide keeping them primitively hidden from humans who sought them. And would reveal beautiful statues of painted colors that shouldn’t exist underwater, of Quairres and his guidance.


Eventually this lead a portal between Quairres and his people. Allowing the Tamura to have more and more influence over people, when eventually a crown was made, his vessel, and the first Atlantean King was born with the power to command the seas, the power to command the animals, the people, who had the power to erect cities from magic - Tamura magic. The first Atlantis built afar from the Greek cities.

Atlantis shows up in a lot of early human historical records. Though no one ever found Atlantis. Not a stone, not a change in the ocean, would ever hint at the location of Atlantis, because Atlantis was here and not here. A pocket of the sea was warped and shaped to hide their cities away from eyes that might want to take their treasures or hunt their people.

Tales of Poseidon and other Sea Gods may have been born from humans lack of understanding of the shifts of power. With Tamura who influenced the Atlanteans God Kings, allowed them to create storms, change tides, cause coastal storms, mighty waves. Many say the earliest God Kings of Atlantis were wrathful and vengeful beings who sought getting back at humans for forcing them to flee for so long. The seas violent and rough for sailors, the birth of a sea guardian as the humans call it the Kraken. The seas would be feared and were not meant for human meddling or so they would learn in the humans earliest civilizations.

Very few Atlanteans questioned this line of thinking out of their Queens and Kings. They were after all bestowed beautiful bodies by Quairres as a token of their worship, they were given cities that protected them, and they controlled the seas, and had a way to fight and wage war with the humans. Though there began a shift in their later ancient history.

Two sons of the late King Turrentius, Rifios and Lyra were the symbolic equivalent of Atlantean history as their divide. Lyra the oldest son, slated to be coronated as King during his father’s passing, agreed with his father Turrentius plan to submerge Rome into the sea. Rifios the youngest son questioned his father’s plans. He was the earliest talk among Atlanteans coexisting or at least finally submerging themselves into the deep and to never interact with humans again. To keep the Merfolk safe they should cut all affairs from the surface world and finally embrace the deep.


Many were against the isolation that Rifios proposed. They felt the humans owed them something for hunting them in their earliest earliest histories. Their barbaric ways should succumb to the seas, where the Merfolk have all the power to hold over them. While there was a still strong few that agreed with Rifios dividing the two Atlantis cities.

Turrentius tried in his lifetime to quell the rebellion is young son presented. Being a vessel of the Tamura itself through his crown, he not want to upset the God like being they worshipped. The one who granted them the power they now have. He sent Rifios to the smaller city of Atlantis, in order to busy him with official government work in hopes he could move war plans and the coronation of Lyra along.

Not under his watch Rifios began to gather allies to aid him in stopping the war and his brothers coronation. Many began to slowly move towards agreeing with Rifios and he slowly began to build a small quiet army, to subdue his brothers guard during the coronation. Rifios goal was not war with his people, but to stop a path of destruction.

Rifios coup to get into the larger city of Atlantis was a success and he nearly did succeed stopping his brothers coronation. What he didn’t plan for was the God who was his father’s vessel. They say the seas grew angry that day. Typhoons, whirlpools, and storms were seen on the surface, as Rifios army was wiped out in one fell swoop by the strength of Quairres. For their betrayal Rifios and those that followed were cursed to the Murk, the darker parts of the ocean and stripped of their beauty, creating the Murkfolk as we know of them today.


Ironically many years, many years later, Rifios ideology spread, and Atlantis while expanding began to draw further and further back from the human world. The seas beginning to become calmer and calmer. Nowadays Atlantis doesn’t interact much with the surface, falling more into a story or a myth.

After Rifios betrayal the underwater cities of Atlantis would not be the same. Two classes of Merfolk existed within the sea. The Murkfolk, those forced to live in the Murk, the part of the ocean just before the Great Deep and the Sacred Atlanteans that live in their contained pocket oceans. Neither of which took on their identity until hundreds of years past. When Quairres curse was not lifted and they continued to live on as Sacred Atlanteans and Murkfolk. It was then a hundred years later that the names really took on their power. Sacred Atlanteans saw themselves as true Merfolk, forgetting the aquatic aliens they originated from, but that was millenia ago. While the Murkfolk began to build, and rise as their own caste of Merfolk adopting the name Murkfolk to separate themselves from those that lived in Atlantis.

It was about this time, stories began to crop up. Where the stories were once calm, Murkfolk who had no protection from the Atlanteans cities were often spotted by humans. As Shadows of the Sea. Stories of strange men and woman living in the sea began to rise to the surface once again. Tales of Sirens luring men into the deep, as the age of Human conquest, seaking the seas, and knowledge of other lands they had not yet conquered. Tales of Krakens and other sea monsters who did horrible things to ship wrecked ships.

Some Murkfolk began to adopt this identity. If they couldn’t enter the cities of the Sacred Atlanteans and were treated as monsters either way, they would take on the image of the horrible monsters the Humans and Atlanteans saw. While some more reasonable tried to corral the group of Murkfolk into security and safety. The earliest leader being Curantius, who began to persuade Murkfolk to not succumb to darkness in their hearts, not to succumb to dejection, but to embrace a new culture. Thus began the Murk Cities, built in underwater sea caves. Providing the Murkfolk protection and security.

Though some rejected even Curantius offer. They refused to be tamed, and refused to be leashed again. Some even traveled deep, deep into the depths, rejecting all notion of civilization. Atlantean and Murkfolk tell tales of the twisted forms Murkfolk have taken in the deep. Lights in the darkness and Murkfolk killing other Murkfolk and Sacred Atlanteans and Humans alike, relishing in the monster created by their perception.


Thousands and thousands of years later Quairres, as all Tamura power has, has waned. Though it has flown in the bloodline of the Merkfolk long enough that they don’t need the Tamura to grant them gifts any longer. Has created a new dawn and age of thinking for the Atlanteans. Some who see the diminishing power of Quairres and his disappearance as a time for renewal. They question why the Murkfolk remain cursed, and they question why the Murkfolk couldn’t merge with the Sacred Atlanteans.

Though there are extremist on both sides. Murkfolk who felt persecuted for their whole lives and existent that ran deep in their history and memories, saw the cities as a sanctuary, and something of their renewal and rebirth, saw the Atlanteans desire to merge as an insult. Some even say that it is too late to request such a thing after many years of prejudice and outright denial. Their names cursed to the evil monstrosity man and Atlanteans made them out to be.

While the Sacred Atlanteans that were traditional saw what the Abyss Drifters have done to Atlanteans, the cruel, and twisted nature they have taken on and associated it with civilized Murkfolk. Seeing them as no different. That the curse has poisoned their mind, and corrupted it just as much as their corrupted forms. Even their King at the time mirrored these thoughts, he saw being a True Merfolk as something to be prideful in and out of vanity perhaps he saw the Murkfolk as nothing, but savage beast pretending in their cities in the Murk.


There seemed to be no conclusion to this tale. A rift was beginning to become deeper and deeper changing the course of the bloodlines of Murkfolk, Abyss Drifters, and Sacred Atlanteans.

With the dwindling power of the Tamura and the social conflict beginning to divide the Sacred Atlanteans themselves apart, there is a tale of bittersweet hope in all of the millenia the Atlanteans have lived. It begins with Cordelia, a beautiful sea maiden, blessed by the King himself for the beauty of her scales. Named for her beauty and declared a true daughter of the ocean. This was all before her ability to make memories though her family quickly became upper class in the Atlantean king and Cordelia grew up alongside then the Princess Arno - the current Queen of Atlantis today. Everyone praised Cordelia on her sacred beauty and there was an expectation that came with it, that she would hold the True Merfolk tradition alive.


On the other side of the ocean, in the Murk, in the largest Murk City, there too was a celebrated birth. The current Queen of the Murk city had a son of her own, Murrow named to honor his late father the greatest guardian of the Murk Cities. Naturally the Atlantean King of the Sacred Atlanteans heard the “royal” bloodline of the Murk had survived with the birth of Meredia’s only son and King Tundris grew wary of the Murkfolk’s plans.

A great miscommunication began to further create fear and paranoia in the Sacred Atlanteans who upheld the ideals of beauty and who believed themselves true Merfolk. The belief that the Murkfolk so attached to their identity would form an uprising. Though no one had ever spoken to Meredia before and Meredia continued to carry on the traditions of her foremothers. Upholding the ideals of Curantis and maintaining the peace between Atlantis and the Murk cities as best as she could.

Though the Abyss Drifters still provided a dangerous threat to the Atlanteans and her people. After all they were the ones who slew her husband. Tundris though fueled by ancient paranoia and suspicion kept a watchful eye on the Murk Cities, even hiring a Murkfolk with a large sum of shells and a promise to be allowed into Atlantis if he fed him information of the Murkfolk movements.

Neither made a move, but suspicion began to build a tense anticipation that a situation would erupt. And erupt it did. During one of the Abyss Drifters attacks, Atlantean guards and Murkfolk warriors warded these individuals off, but in the process of warding them off an important figure in the Sacred Atlanteans hierarchy was slain. The Royal Guard Hersies. The guard Tundris had already arranged with Cordelia’s parents to marry Cordelia when she grew old enough.

Tundris swore this a plot from the Murkfolk. More and more hatred spewed from the Sacred Atlanteans against the Murkfolk. An outcry. Cordelia was not and was never known as the soft spoken, say nothing woman as the Tundris like to pass her off as. Tundris viewed her as a passive woman who looked pretty and something to marvel at for the next genetic bloodline. Though Cordelia was the most outspoken of the situation and suggested they speak to the Murkfolk instead of pass judgment. Many laughed her off and scoffed and told her she didn’t understand the history. Cordelia rolled her eyes, she understood.

Cordelia decided after an important meeting to sneak off to the Murk. Naturally the Murkfolk were wary of her, but Meredia allowed her an audience with her. Curious as to what she wanted. It was the first time Murrow and Cordelia lay eyes on each other. Some would say it was love at first sight, others say that Murrow was magnetized to Cordelia’s beauty. But that was the first time they set eyes on each other and heard each other speak.


Cordelia was surprised at how reasonable Meredia was in comparison to Tundris, and she convinced the Murk Queen to try and seek an audience with Tundris. Meredia agreed.

Months after the exchange news of Meredia and Tundris meeting had spread through Atlantis. Those who believed in welcoming the Murkfolk, talked excitedly while the ones who held more traditional views saw the meeting as a farce. Tundris himself was unsure, as their audience grew closer. Though the Tundris and Meredia audience wasn’t the only exchange going on. For the last few months Cordelia had slipped out in the cover of the calming seas to speak with Murrow. They exchanged words and had a lot of deep conversation Cordelia was missing in her life as the most beautiful merwoman of her city.

Murrow and Cordelia began to grow a deep affection for each other during this short period of time and both saw hope in the future for their people.

The audience with Meredia and Tundris did not go off without a hitch . A plot in the works to assassinate Meredia had been unveiled, which caused more divide. The conversation between Murkfolk and Sacred Atlanteans drew further apart instead of closer together.

But who drew closer together was Murrow and Cordelia. Who spent many moons and many tides speaking with each other. Deep, enriching conversations, not just admiration of her beauty stole Cordelia’s heart. And someone who saw Murrow for the heart he had is what drew each other near.

Eventually the two had their first son in secret, Ohdan. Named for his strength, the two parents had to make a decision. Whether or not the child would remain with the Murkfolk with Murrow or with Cordelia in Atlantis. The two decided that he would stay with Cordelia. Unsure of the origins of the father, Cordelia’s son was still accepted, reluctantly into Sacred Atlanteans cities. Questions of who the father was and suspicions of Ohdan’s origins were quelled considering while he may be slightly out of place in comparison to other True Merfolk, he seemed not quite like the Murkfolk.

For many years the lovers exchanged Ohdan in secret, passing him off to one another. Raising him to love others and accept them no matter the differences. Teaching him sea combat, innovation, until he grew up to a strong young adolescent, Cordelia fell pregnant with their second child. Murrow and Cordelia were both nervously ecstatic. Ohdan more young and curious to understand the social pressure Murrow and Cordelia were under with their relationship.

Their second child born was named Lyrico. And he was not well received. The Atlanteans viewed him as ugly and gross. It outed the relationship of Murrow and Cordelia out, and King Tundris in his old age saw it as a plot against him. Having children with a Murkfolk sneaking them into the kingdoms of Altantis under his nose.

Rumors of King Tundris plotting to take down the Murkfolk cities and kill Meredia and Murrow in the process began to spread and Cordelia feared for her children’s life, who were forced out of Atlantis once it was discovered who the father was. Worried and scared she fled Atlantis to inform Meredia and Murrow. Another act Tundris would view as traitorous.

Murrow assuring the safety of himself and her children, the parents both made a decision. The children would learn and grow on the surface, away from this prejudice divide. Murrow would take the children, watch them grow from the ocean and in exchange Cordelia would try to pacify King Tundris’ rage by offering herself up as a prisoner.

Reluctant at first to go Ohdan finally agreed, said his goodbyes to his mother and his father and him broke towards the Human world. Where Ohdan would raise his younger brother on the surface and Murrow would keep them safe ,from King Tundris or his soon to be coronated daughter Queen Arno, by guarding the seas close to where the boys resided.

“You’re really putting me in charge of a baby,” a mohawk teenager says, holding onto his younger brother. Thick locks of black and down below where feet should be were eight wiggling tentacles, happy as could be. He has no idea what they are losing. He has no idea why they are danger in the first place. On one hand Ohdan wanted to blame him, but he’s just a baby he has no idea what has happened down there. Murrow, their father, his hair similar to Lyrico’s except blonde, thick, very thick to be considered hair like seaweed stares at him.

“We’re really putting you in charge of a baby,” Murrow tells him, hoisting himself up a little to lean on the dock a bit, his massive black tentacles spread across the surface of the water like a fisherman’s net. Each curling around each other and unfurling like retractable claws.

“But, look at him,” Ohdan says raising the baby up and hovering him over the dock. Lyrico just laughs and sneezes some seafoam, his tentacles moving in similar fashion to Murrow.

“I am,” Murrow tells Ohdan with a raise of his brow.

“His legs,” Ohdan remarks.

Murrow rolls onto his back, which spreads his hair across the wooden floorboards. He looks exhaustingly towards the moon, “The benefits of having your mother’s and my genes is that he’ll grow out of that. He’ll have people legs in no time. It’s best you consider some Human name too.”

“You’re putting me in charge of that too?!” Ohdan protest, “Why can’t you come up here too? Why can’t you help us?”

Murrow looks at Ohdan’s upside down shape.

“Isn’t that obvious, your mother has bought your freedom by imprisoning herself, but that doesn’t mean Arno or Tundris will ever accept that as enough payment,” his father tells him, “I’m here at the water’s edge to keep them from finding you. Your mother and I have made great sacrifices and I know it hurts, but we trust you.”

Ohdan scoffs, “Dad please.”

Murrow’s body begins to slip down the dock as he begins to slowly descend back into the war, “Tah for now. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

The next day,

The human city is noisy and crowded. There is an odd smell he doesn’t think anyone else notices and he’s ducked into a shop that smells odd. He’s never smelled paper before, but he’s not sure he likes it. Ohdan huffs as he places the stroller to the side. He’s done his best to cover Lyrico’s tentacles up with a blanket, but he hears some human girls giggling watching him as he picks up a baby name book. He turns his gaze towards them and they shy away, they are about his age, sort of. Actually he’s not sure how Humans count their age. He kind of awkwardly waves at them and begins to thumb through the book real quick. As briefly as he can, it isn’t like he’s going to buy it. Just need a name. Finally one of the girls walks over to him.

“Hi,” she says, why do humans talk so loud?

Ohdan covers his ears at first, “What do you want?”

“My friends thought you were really cute, and is this your baby?” she ask looking at the stroller.

“No, he’s my brother,” he says, “Our parents aren’t around.”

She looks sadly at Lyrico.

“Oh I am sorry,” she says.

“Yeah we just moved here,” Ohdan replies, continuing to thumb through the book. She kind of laughs.

“And I’m also to believe you don’t have names,” she says looking at the book.

“Oh um, we have names, we have names, this was for a friend, she’s older, like a mom figure to us,” Ohdan says.

“And those names are?” the girl ask.

Quickly glances down at the page his thumb has stopped before she notices, “Lukas. And um I am Robert.”

Where is she? His brother was laughing at him last week about the whole thing. He told him that the girl likely wouldn’t remember him just because he defended her haircut. He’s been trying to track her down ever since and she keeps avoiding him, missing him? He’s not so sure. Does he sound like a stalker? Especially considering he mentioned her and described her to nearly a bajillion girls it felt like. Will she show up? Maybe Robert’s right. A girl who barely notices him in class and he defended her haircut - once likely isn’t too into him. But he’s got to try right?

“You wanted to talk,” holy shit she came.


“Nadia, right?” he ask, “I asked a girl for your name. Sorry. That’s weird right. I...um…”

“-Lukas,” she cut off, she blushes, “I asked for your name too after last week.”

“Oh, well that’s cool, um yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he averts his eyes.

“Yeah, I am fine, thank you,” Nadia replies with a smile.

“Um yeah...um...uh,” he replies.

She twiddles with her fingers.

“Sooo,” she remarks.

“Yeah,” he responds.

“Yeah,” she replies.

“You like movies?” this was a lot easier in the version of her in the mirror this morning. Less easy when she’s right in front of him. He can’t get things to come out the way he’d like them to. Again Robert just laughed at him about it, said that’s natural and it’s just a crush.

“Yes,” she replies looking confused, she’s tapping her foot. He’s boring her. She gives him another wide grin. Robert’s the one who has been raising him for the last thirteen years, the least he could have taught him was how to talk to girls.

“Um...cause...uh there is a movie and I’d like to see it…” he pauses and swallows his spit, “with you. I mean….like if you don’t have a boyfriend. With...how pretty you are….I expect….you have one cool boyfriend who’s like super awesome and can talk proper sentences.”

She laughs. And turns pink.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she replies, “I’d...love...to go see...a movie with you. I just...thought...with um how cute you are...you’d have a girlfriend already.”

He’s died. She called him cute.

“Awesome, I mean cool,” he tries to lean on the wall, only to slip a bit. He gives her an awkward smile.

“Time?” she ask.

Time? Oh time, right of the movie. That makes sense. Right.

“Evening,” she giggles, “Uh 5.”

“5 sounds good,” Nadia replies.

“Robert!” Lukas’ shouting from the bathroom. He knows he’s not going to go in their right? Teenagers can be so dramatic, he’s probably out of something, or seen a spider. He needs to learn how to deal with that on his own. Now, what to make for dinner?

“Robert!” he hopes at fifteen he wasn’t this overly dramatic. Tuna macaroni sounds good, the bathroom door slams open. Just pretend ignore him, he’s probably going to do what he needs to do. Turning around to put a box of macaroni onto the counter he sees Lukas naked. He slams some bubbling, soapy foam onto the counter.

“You know you don’t need to show me that, just keep that in private,” he replies, Lukas is not amused and not that he thinks about it. Ah his hair look like tentacles, his hands are webbed and his skin is turning black. Shit. Right. Is it time?

“Gross,” Lukas tells him, “And it’s coming out of my hair.”

“Ah yeah,” Robert scratches the back of his head, “I can um see that.”

“Well, are you going to say something?!” Lukas ask him. He hasn’t thought about Atlantis in a long time.Sure he visits their dad from time to time, but he always has the kind of lackadaisical response that makes him question what mother ever saw in him. He can’t explain it to Lukas. Or he’s not sure how he’s supposed to do so. What’s the right way to do it? Surprise, you’re from an underwater city that is currently going through a racial divide. He can’t. Actually he’s not sure. Robert groans.

“Get in the car and cover yourself up,” Robert tells him. Lukas gives him a side eye.

“My hair is foaming and the only thing you can tell me is get in the car naked!” Lukas remarks.

“You’re the one who ran out the bathroom so dramatically,” Robert stresses. Lukas mutters something under his breath.

“I’ll go find a towel,” he wanders off, probably towards the linen closet. Fucking Quairris. What now? What’s going to happen once Lukas finds out about Atlantis? All he can imagine is them heading towards the beach to find their father and him springing into the sea, towel flying in the wind to go find Atlantis and their mother. Probably thinks he can save her. He’s a teenager of course he thinks that, he wouldn’t understand the years of prejudice or the difference between Murkfolk and Sacred Atlanteans. How could he? He thinks he’s in love with a girl he’s went on a date twice. And their father. What does he expect him to say? The few conversations he has had with him, the only passing thought is his father slinking off into the shadowy depths of the ocean and him a head full of muddier thoughts thanks to him. Yet, here he was leading Lukas off to the sea, to their father. The only man who could possibly know what to tell Lukas or just confuse him more.

Why couldn’t Lukas just discover he had tentacle legs or something? He’s got bubbles coming out of his hair. Lukas comes back with a towel he’s pinned together with a close pin.

“Ready,” Lukas tells him.

“All I can say is that there’s going to be a lot to take in and I want you to be prepared,” Robert tells him. Lukas tilts his head to the side, his head wrapped in a purple towel looking like a turban.

“Suspicious,” he simply murmurs at him.



Where could Robert be taking him? And why can’t he just tell him. There’s a pit developing in his stomach, oh no what if he’s an experiment! Or an Ultra. Would Nadia still like him after what he learns? What if she just starts wretching if his hair continues to be a bubble bath with tentacles? Roberts never told him much about the past their parents. What if he’s taking him to a secret lab and he’ll be imprisoned? Or maybe his video games are getting too much into his head. The car finally stops, they have said nothing since they got in the car. Staring out to the ocean, Lukas tilts his head again.

“Why are we at the beach, at night?” Lukas ask Robert.

“Keep your towel on and don’t go mooning anyone in the apartments who might like a nice view,” Robert tells him.

Lukas grumbles. He’s gotten nothing out of Robert this whole car ride and he’s beginning to get a bit annoyed with Robert. What’s so important that he can’t say it?! Why is he taking him to the beach in the middle of the night? As Lukas opens the door and gets out of the car, slowly closing it he scowls at Robert hoping he knows he is displeased. Slamming the door shut - no! Stupid towel! Get unstuck! Don’t want to be naked in public! Get out of the door!

“You got it?” Robert ask him.

“I’m fine,” Lukas says managing to free himself from the door without any accidents. Robert shakes his head and starts to walk towards the beach. Gross his skin is all sticky, he can feel his blacken feet picking up pebbles as he follows Robert. He tries to burrow a hole through his skull. Glare. Glare. Glare. I am mad at you. I am mad at you.

“I can feel you,” Robert tells him.

“Well-” he can’t think of anything good to say, “You deserve it.”

Just like the car ride, they just walk, and glaring at Robert only hurting his face so he just stares at the sand. It feels different on his skin, it’s not as course, more like he’s walking on something cushiony. The apartments disappear behind a cove, lights begin to disappear and the stars are more apparent out here. It’s like they have found some kind of secluded spot no one else knows about, and if he wasn’t upset - not even sure why any more - he’d admire its beauty more. Maybe he can take Nadia here!

“Hey look I really need your help this time,” Robert is speaking to someone.

He moves aside. Holy fish man! No seriously there’s an octopus man, lying on his back in the sand, wearing an oddly specific suit piece on his upper half, the buttons are seashells, and the rest of his body is six feet in length of tentacles, just curling and unfurling. And is he painting his nails?

“Um, hello,” Lukas mumbles all his anger has dissipated to confusion.

The man slowly turns his head towards him, “Hello son.”

Robert smacks his head to his palm. And Lukas feels a sense of dizziness. Son? Lukas takes a second and sits down on the beach.

“You’re- my dad- my dad is an octopus,” Lukas stutters.

“I prefer the human term, what is it again,” he places a hand to his chin, “A fabulpus.”

“That’s...not even a word,” Lukas remarks, “What is going on here! Why did a man….with tentacles and terrible puns call me son?!”

Murrow looks at Robert, “You didn’t tell him?”

“What was I going to say, I was worried he’d leap into the ocean and do something reckless,” Robert replies.

“For one, we don’t leap into the ocean,” Murrow tells him, “We gently slither into the water and let the tide take us. We’re not dolphins, have more class than that.”

“Hello! Confused teenager here!” Lukas shouts at them.

Murrow sits up. Lukas eyes widen and he feels a shiver down his spine as he watches as Murrow’s tentacles begin to slowly shrink upwards in what feels like slow motion. Like watching evolution within seconds, eight tentacles, become a pair of legs and black slacks. Dusting himself off Murrow stands up.

“Well let’s unconfuse that young mind of yours,” Murrow says petting the top of Lukas’ head.

This is so weird. This is so not happening. His whole entire life is a giant question mark. What is going? Why was it kept from him?

Murrow turns his heads towards him, “I’d like to tell you before you lash out at me with any biting youthful comments. It was not my idea to withhold the truth from you - that’s all on Ohdan.” Murrow gives Robert a look. Ohdan?

Robert looks a bit nervous and scratches the back of his neck, “It isn’t like you gave me an instruction manual.”

“I’ve never kept the truth from you,” Murrow tells him.

“Yeah, but you haven’t made it very clear either,” Robert replies.

Is it bad that he’s annoyed they have more of a relationship than he should have with this man?

“Truth doesn’t mean I have an obligation to tell you something right away, it is illuminating the path and your choice to take it,” Murrow replies.

“Yeah well sometimes I just want an answer,” Robert tells him, “Lukas got foam coming out of his hair and well you seen his skin. I want you to be able to explain it without your - just make it clear for him.”

Atlantis, huh? Pushing around some noodles Robert has made nothing has really changed from last night. Well, where they live or anything about them? Not sure what he expected. The story is rough and the reason why Robert didn’t tell him was because he was afraid he’d go towards the sea to save their mother. Sounds like something Robert wants to do. Something he’s thought about a lot. Is the only reason he hasn’t because of him? He studies Robert. Robert raises his brow.

“You’re not eating,” Robert mentions.

“It’s just weird,” he replies.

Robert shrugs. Yeah he gets to shrug. He gets to shrug because he lived in Atlantis for sixteen years and he has all the memories of the world in the water. Where as he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to him because he’s kept to himself. Sure - Murrow already chastised him for this, but he doesn’t get to treat it so nonchalantly because it doesn’t matter to him.

“I know that look,” Robert grumbles.

“Yeah because you treat it like it doesn’t matter,” he retorts.

Robert sighs, “Because it doesn’t. Because if it does, it’s much harder to put it behind me.”

“So it’s about you!? And not me,” Lukas shoves his plate aside, “I have a life here! And I am….I am not even human. I have a girlfriend-

-you have went on two dates,” Robert cuts him off, “those kind of relationships don’t last. I know it seems important to you right now, but you’re going to break up someday with her and find another girl. No one stays with the same person forever, and when they do it’s because they have a real connection.”

“My connection with Nadia isn’t real, either!” Lukas exclaims.

Robert groans and rubs his temples, “You’re fifteen.”

“Thanks, thanks for dismissing everything that actually matters to me,” Lukas stands up.

“It only matters now because life feels immediate right now Lukas, I know that feeling. But you’ll mellow out, be rational about it,” Robert replies.

He’s not listening to him any more. He’s looking for his shoes and his coat. Robert watches him as he puts on his canvas shoes and grabs his coat.

“Where the hell are you going at this hour?” Robert ask standing up.

“Talking to someone who cares!” Lukas shouts opening the door and slamming it shut. Shoes hitting the concrete stairs as he runs down them. He stops midway staring at their apartment. A tiny bit of nervousness bubbles inside of him. What if Robert is right? What if he goes to see Nadia and she wants nothing to do with him afterwards? Robert doesn’t understand it, his life is somewhat different now and it isn’t. His vision is going blurry. Stupid tears. Stupid Robert! It would have been better if he was a mad scientist evil experiment because then he could justify not having a normal life because he got captured by an evil scientist. This. This. This just hurts. Because - what am I supposed to do with this information? Go on with life pretending like he doesn’t know?

Guess he just has to get this over with. Either Robert is right. Or he proves him wrong. Wiping his face. Stupid.




“I heard you’ve been seeing a boy,” Nadia raises her head from her plate, staring at her father. He’s home for the weekend and then he disappears for the week, in another city, in another state. Sometimes it feels like he’s a complete stranger trying to probe into her personal life. He knows so little about her it feels sometimes.

“Well, we have been on two dates,” she mentions, her mother is watching her. She already knows what she thinks about Lukas. They’ve already had a talk after their second date. She tries to remain level headed like she’s being reasonable about it, if she admitted anything else she’d never hear the end of it. How mother has met several men before their father, she doesn’t know what true affection is. It’s the stance adults take. Her brother is watching as well. There’s a cheeky smile on his face, as he’s not in the spotlight right now.

“I see,” he says, “Where to?”

“Just the movies,” she replies.

“What do his parents do?” he ask.

She just wanted to eat dinner without an interrogation, but she knew this would happen. She swirls around a piece of ravioli in sauce, smearing it like tomato sauce watercolor.

“They are dead,” she scrunches up her face, it’s what she assumes since they don’t seem to be a part of Lukas life. And there are no photos of them in their apartment as she recalls. She watches as her father raises a brow.

“I see,” is all he says putting it in his mental checklist, “Does he have any family?”

“His brother, he’s raised him,” she replies.

“And what does he do?” her father ask.

“Works at a department store,” she mumbles.

“I see,” he says again.

“Can, I be excused?” she ask.
Her father stares at her. She hates when he does that. He has more questions, but she’s beginning to break under the pressure. She’s trying to stop her hand from shaking or from getting too angry or upset. Just be the good girl. Just be the good girl.

“What is the excuse?” her father ask her.

“I...have...a lot of homework to do,” she mutters.

He gives her a look. She looks away. He knows she’s trying to run away. He wants to keep her at the table. But he just sighs. It’s because he’s probably exhausted from work.

“Go, your mother and I have a lot to discuss about this boy,” he tells her.

She quickly slips off before another thing is mentioned. Running quickly off towards her bedroom, she finally lets tears fall. They don’t even try to get to know Lukas. Her mother met him just briefly and gave him the work, it was so unfair. They don’t understand the type of person he is. It isn’t like she just saw him and thought about dating him. They have the same classes, it isn’t like she didn’t notice him. She didn’t notice his feelings until they talked that day, or really the day he confessed. But what she did notice was an extremely loyal and kind boy in class who sometimes got taken advantage by the other kids because they took advantage of his empathy. Fleeing into her room, she closes the door and places her back towards the door frame.

Someone’s in the backyard. She cautiously walks towards her window, leaning over her computer desk.

“Oh hi,” Lukas? He’s standing at her window.

“Lukas?” she’s taken aback, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out which room window belong to which person,” he nervously laughs. She giggles. She needed this tonight, she slowly unlatches the window.

“You’re a terrible stalker,” she tells him, “You know that?”

“Yeah I probably would of gotten caught if I didn’t find the right window in time,” he tells her stumbling into her bedroom.

“Probably,” she says, “Why are you here?”

Lukas scowls and then averts his gaze, he moves over to the corner of her bed to brood for a second. He doesn’t realize how contemplative he can be. But she knows something is hurting him deeply. She’s been glad and happy to see these sides of him, beside the guy in class who doesn’t let others take him down. She likes to know he can take down his defenses.

“Robert and I got into an argument,” he replies.

She takes a second. Her heart flutters. The very first thing he considers doing after an argument is come to her? Is it wrong to feel special when he’s troubled. That he thought of her as someone to come to. She sits near him.
“What about?” she ask him putting a hand on his back in a comforting matter.

“Everything all at once, and it’s all complicated, tied together into one really tight knot,” he looks confused.

“Well start at one end,” she tells him.

“You,” he mentions quickly.

She knows that. Though she never got the feeling Robert be the type to forbid Lukas from seeing her.

“Oh,” she says.

“It’s complicated - more complicated than that,” he tells her, he stands up. He’s wrestling with something.

“My parents don’t really like you much,” she confesses him in hopes to ease his mind.

He pauses, “It’s not that. He says our feelings aren’t grown yet. And that….well things are different now. They’ll be different forever now.”

Wait? What’s going on? She thought she’d understand, but now she’s just confused. There’s a pit developing in her stomach. If this is a breakup, it’s really awkward. And if it isn’t, then she’s lost completely track of what’s going on. Tight knot indeed.

“Okay I thought tackling this at a string at time would help, but I am completely at a lost,” she tells him.

He looks at her computer desk, “Look I like you. I like you a lot. And I don’t want to lie to you. I want to be honest with you. Someone I just met a day ago said something that the truth is meant to guide people on their path and I want you to make the decision. I want you to make the decision. Because I don’t know what the right answer is. I am kind of impulsive sometimes and if it were just left up to me…..I wouldn’t put you through this. But that isn’t fair.”

“Just tell me Lukas,” Nadia stands up grabbing his hand, “Because right now I am really not understanding.”

Lukas stares at her and takes a deep breath, “Okay.” he says. He exhales and then inhales, “Okay. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when.”

Okay? He better not be proposing. It’s way too early for that. She closes her eyes. Her heart is racing. Her stomach is squirming. She’s confused. Scared. Not sure.

“You can look,” he says.

It better not be a ring. Please don’t be a weirdo. Please don’t be a weirdo. Don’t let her judgment be all wrong. Opening her eyes. Lukas, is? His skin is black, his hands are slightly webbed and so are his feet. His hair has become, tentacles? They are foaming? Foam is surrounding his neck like a fur scarf. He looks a bit like an aquatic prince. She feels sudden relief, it isn’t a ring. He’s just - an Ultra? His eyes glow a bit more in this form, she’s not sure how to react.

“I..um...what’s going on?” she finds her words.

“There is more -” he mumbles.

“Oh...oh? You want me to close my eyes, again?” she ask.

“Like...you’re okay with this?” he ask her.

She looks at him. Studies him.

“It’s...um...different, but I can get….use to it….I mean you’re not planning to go to school like this?” she ask him.

“No, fuck no,” he replies.

“Oh...oh...yeah, that’s a good idea,” she says, how does she even begin to process, aquatic prince? And there is more. More what?, “You want to….there’s more.”

“Yeah, close your eyes,” he says.

“Okay,” she closes her eyes. It feels like she’s waiting forever. She holds her eyes tightly. She thinks she can hear Lukas talking himself up. You got this. Just tell her when.

Which puts her at ease, but she’s not sure she’s prepared for what he’s about to show her. She could get use to the aquatic prince look, but what’s next? Full octopus head. Tentacles for a mouth. Full Cthulhu monster.

“Okay, I think I am ready,” he tells her.

She slowly begins to open her eyes. In hazy vision. More tentacles. Superpowers were fine, but she’s not sure how she’ll react if he’s not entirely humanoid. Like if he is Cthulhu she doesn’t know if she can be into that. She finally opens her eyes. She has to hold onto her mouth so her mother doesn’t hear her gasp. She takes a step back. It’s he’s!? Beautiful. Sure the tentacles are weird and she’s not sure how that works - physically. Oh god Nadia why would you think about this in the moment. But even more glowing foam surrounds him, the foam is like - more like floating jewels around him and he maintains a lot of himself. He really is like some aquatic prince and she’s beginning to question her aesthetic when this is okay to her. More than okay to her.

“I...uh…” she can’t find the words.

“You hate it,” he says.

“No...I didn’t say that,” she quickly retorts, she doesn’t want him to get the wrong impression, “I’m just...stunned...trying to find the words.”

She watches as the glistening sea boy flops onto her bed. She’s going to have to wash her sheets afterward.She wish he wasn’t so hard on himself.

“I think, you look… like royalty,” she says, there we go she’s found her words again. He rolls onto the side, his tentacles curling and then uncurling.

“You don’t have to say things to make me feel better,” he mumbles.

“I am not that type of girl,” she remarks at him. Scowling briefly at his back side and sitting on the bed. She puts her hand on his skin. It’s, um, glossy and smoother than what she was expecting, softer too. Fish normally are slippery, right, but this is like, she’s not even sure how to explain it, “I just don’t normally expect the boys I date to turn into fish.”

“Technically, I am an arthropod,” he murmurs sadly.

Is he really going to correct her on his genus right now? She watches as his tentacles begin to shrink up. She once again is startled to watch within a few short seconds his tentacles turn into his black little webbed feet.

“It’s the same thing, it’s still aquatic,” she retorts.

“....just be honest with me” he murmurs.

“I am being honest, it’s not so bad,” she tells him, “I mean…” that came out wrong, as he shies furth away from her, “...imagine all the other things right now. If those lips I like were replaced by tentacles-

“-eww,” he cuts her off.

She giggles, “Or your eyes. They are already as deep as the ocean and now they shimmer like gems.”

“This isn’t really helping,” he’s now talking through her sheets.

She sighs and flops on her back side, “Do you remember what you told that boy?”

“Which one?” he says through her sheets.

“The one who told me he doesn’t date girls with short hair,” she continues.

“Yeah, I said I like girls with short hair,” he replies.

“I don’t think you’ve ever judged someone based on their appearance before Lukas, sure physical attraction is part of it - but what I like about you was you were willing to stand up for someone other than yourself for no praise or credit. You did it because it’s you,” she says, there are her words, “what kind of person would I be to judge you based on your physical appearance when you didn’t judge me based on mine? I don’t think it would have mattered to you whether or not I had short or long hair. Because you’re not that type of person and I don’t want to be that type of shallow person either.”

“Well, it’s easy to like you beyond your hair, you’re smart and have a really great laugh, you’re more mature than other kids in the class, and you’re really nice to everyone you meet,” he replies, “You’re genuine. Which is weird because most people aren’t.”

“Well you are genuine too,” she says, she feels her heart rushing again and her cheeks going hot. He thinks all those things about her, “I mean if you weren’t, then I wouldn’t have you on my bed right now with tentacles and foam coming out of your hair. You’d be in your apartment, not caring what I thought about you. But you came here. And that’s admirable. You came here and told me the truth. I much rather date a boy who turns into a fish-”

He turns to finally look at her and she smiles at him sticking out her tongue, “-then a phony guy. A guy who wouldn’t come to my house in the middle of the evening to show me another side of himself. I really believe you really like me, because you showed me this tonight.”

“Well I only found out last night,” he tells her, “I was really worried you’d break up with me. Because I am not human.”

Not human?

“I am not going to breakup with you just because you have - another form,” she pauses and looks at him, “There is more to this? Isn’t there?”

“Uh yeah,” he turns pink, “Sorry...I…”

“No addressing it at a time is fine,” she says, “So tell me the rest.”

“Yeah sure,” he says, he suddenly gets up, “Shit sorry. I didn’t think about the bed.”

She giggles, “It’s fine, it’s already soaked. Come back down and tell me the rest.”

“Did you hear that Elaine got attacked last night?” some girls are talking and yes she’s eavesdropping. Kayla and Janice are gathered around Megan’s desk. All three girls are talking in that obnoxious tone, the one where they are pretending to be covert, but they also want whomever is in class to hear them.

“Is she okay?” Janice gasp sounding shock.

“A few bruises, but she’s scared to walk home,” Kayla replies.

Megan fixes her hair, “She’s probably making it up. Knowing Elaine she over dramatizes everything.” Except that Elaine’s desk is empty today and she didn’t go to school. She’s been hearing rumors about girls getting attacked around their neighborhood. Honestly, what are the police doing? Wish there was a way she could get behind these attacks and stop whomever is doing so. But that’s, vigilantism? And considering all that’s been going on with Ultras in the news and vigilante heroes - she’d just get arrested despite the actual criminal getting away.

Kayla notices she is watching. They lock eyes.

“Dyke girl is listening in,” Kayla tells Janice.
Dammit. Nadia slowly lifts up the hood of her sweater, as if she could use it as an invisibility cloak. Though the three of them have already spotted her. She can feel each of their gaze on her right now. She doesn’t want to deal with them right now, but they are coming over anyway.

“Don’t worry,” Janice begins, “no one is going to attack you on the sidewalk, because you’re not a pretty girl.”

Megan snorts a laugh.

“They may as well mistake you for a man,” Kayla pipes up. The three of them begin to laugh.

“Hey at least I am not going to look like a raisin when that guy attacks you, because you’re all pretty girls,” Nadia retorts quickly.

They would have said something, but the door to the classroom opens almost immediately as the bell rings. The rest of the kids are all trying to rush out of the classroom before the teachers notice they all left before he got back from his bathroom break. She’s quickly trying to gather her stuff, before those three decided to spite her. Too late. They are surrounding her desk.

“Nadia!” Lukas is shouting against the crowd. The three of them scowl disappointingly. As the crowd of students begin to thin, she sees Lukas pushing against them like they are the sea and he can part them. He looks at the three girls. They give him a brief look of disgust.

“Do you have lunch?” he ask her with a big grin on his face.

She gives him a side eye.

“Yeah,” she says.

He looks disappointed.

“Oh,” he says.

“Why?” she ask, “It’s just a peanut butter jelly sandwich because my mother cannot be bothered for a quality lunch.” she scrunches up her face to imitate her mother, “I didn’t get fancy lunches when I was a kid, I don’t see why kids these days are so entitled into thinking they deserve anything more than a ham sandwich, a vegetable, a fruit, and something to drink.”

“Toss it,” he tells her.

“Or give it to someone,” she pauses, “But why?”

Lukas looks excited, “So, you know what anime is right?”

“Those Japanese cartoons, right, what about them?” she ask him, but he’s already taking out plastic tupperware.

“I don’t have any obento boxes, but I figured that tupperware kind of looks like an obento and I made lunch,” he says.

“I don’t even know what an obento box is,” she says, but as he lifts the lids it doesn’t even matter. He’s put so much thought and effort into this. He’s made some really cute tea sandwiches, seems like cucumber, and mayo? One of the compartments, a yellowed rolled thing, with radish and stuff.

“That’s tamago, those are tea sandwiches, that’s kimchi, and that’s rice,” he tells her pointing things out.

“This is really sweet,” he’s really brought a smile to her face. And brighten up her day. Dealing with those girls is a pain,

“Yeah in anime, couples - well normally to show affection one of them makes obento for their partner,” he smiles.

“Dork, but sweet,” he’s such a weird boy.



He’s glad she’s smiling, he knows dealing with those girls can be exhausting for her. Though something is on her mind. Something’s bothering her.

“You okay?” he ask her as she finishes a bite of cucumber sandwich.

“Have you heard about the attacks?” she ask him.

Girls walking at night getting attacked, yeah he has. He slowly nods.

“You want me to walk you home?” he ask her.

She smiles, but that’s not what’s bothering her. He can tell.

“Sure, but that’s not the issue,” she says, “Where are the police? Why hasn’t the attacker been caught yet?”

She’s got a point. Yeah sure investigations take a while, but there hasn’t been increased police activity in the area. And there is an active attacker, how hard is to miss?

“You have a point,” he says, “No one is patrolling the area. And you’d think with how frequent the attacks have been, someone would have seen him or caught him. He’s doing out on the sidewalk. Someone’s had to notice. Right?”

She nods slowly chewing.

“It’s like when there is a crime, nothing happens, but they can stop a speeder from speeding,” she huffs finally.

Lukas puts down his sandwich and looks at the floor. She’s right though. Girls are scared to walk home and to school. A girl’s been put in the hospital. Shouldn’t this bother more people? All he ever sees on the news is stuff that is harrowing, but no one seems to care too much about this small crime. Small in their community, sure. But big to people because they are scared.

“Wish there was something more we can do,” Lukas mentions.

He watches as Nadia’s eye light up. She looks at him and stands up slamming her hands on the desk. He nearly loses balance, she’s quite - forward. What is she going to do now?

“There is,” she declares.

“There is?”he gives her a slight look of confusion.

“Yes,” she says with intense passion, “From now on, until we see something me and you are patrolling our neighborhood.”

“Then what?” he ask her.

“You apprehend him,” she says.

“Wait I am?” he ask her.

“The news is riddled with Ultra vigilantes, well why not another one, one who actually stops a criminal from terrorizing a community. You can use your goop-

-mucus,” he slightly corrects her.

“And stick them to the walls,” she says.

That’s a lot to thrust on him so suddenly? She’s just decided that he should be, a hero? It’s nice that she believes in him like this. It’s just. That’s a lot of pressure.

“Do I get any say in this?” he ask her.

Nadia looks at him, her gaze is fierce, “No. Why would you?” she ask him, “You have powers. It be like if you were sitting on a wand that could make evil disappear and not use it. You said it yourself, you wish you could do something. So let’s do something.”

Jeez. She’s really pushing this on him. She’s right though, in a way. That someone’s got to do something. Someone’s got to take a stand. But he’s also just a guy who can make bubbles. He’s really about to become the hero whose powers are sea based, but he’s on the surface so he can’t do the extra cool sea stuff on land lame hero.

“Okay, but we’ll need a plan,” he tells her.

Nadia squeals, moves around the table and kisses his cheek, “I knew you wouldn’t let people down.”

His face goes hot. Why does she make it easy for him to make a decision like this?

Three nights of patrol and he had two worries, if a girl from school finds him sneaking around at night she might think he’s the one assaulting girls, or that he’s a pervert. Following around other, what the other kids would consider pretty. The sheer embarrassment. He continues to follow Kayla around, she stops to look into a compact mirror to fix her lipstick. She’s not so worried about the attacks now, for the last three nights she’s been sneaking out of her house to meet a guy with a very expensive sports car. Honestly he’s been waiting for the guy to take a baton out of his trunk. Something has to happen. It’s been three nights. Hey at this angle, it’s like - someone else is in the mirror. Fuck. Welp this is going to be embarrassing. He jabs Nadia in the side.

Nadia looks at him, “I would have thought something happen by now.”

“She’s not alone,” he tells her, “I am going to talk to her.”

Nadia looks at his tentacle hair, “Like that?”

“What choice do I have?” he ask her, she’s starting to unzip her hoodie, and hands it to him.

“Keep your head low,” she tells him.

He looks at her, will this even fit him? He manages to get it around his arms, and to zip it up, but it’s a bit tight and his mucus is soaking through it. Nadia makes a face like he’s injured the hoodie.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, he draws up the hood and begins to walk across the street. It still begs the question why Kayla is the target. These attacks, seem random? But maybe there is a pattern to them. A pattern that maybe they are missing. Shit, she’ll recognize his voice. So much for a hood if he’s going to be recognized. Gah. Being a secret superhero is so difficult when it involves your classmates. He steps in front of Kayle, in a red dress that looks like it might belong to her mother, it’s too old for her in style and cut. Black pumps. Ruby red lips. Her bob has been curled. There’s something strange. Like someone is standing right next to her, shimmering almost. He can barely make it out.

“Helllo,” Kayla says annoyed at him, “Do you need something?”

Shit. If he says anything, she’ll know who he is. What should he do? Ugh. Being a hero for three days is the worse. Maybe he could. Moving his tentacles in front of his face, he lifts his hood up. Kayla sees a mass of tentacles all wiggling in front of her vision, seafoam bubbles out of suckers, she drops her makeup mirror. Her eyes are wide in fear and she immediately turns around, throwing her heels off she begins to run. As she turns around, there is it the shimmering person. He reaches out and grabs their arm.

Kayla keeps running. But he knows he has a hand on the person.

“Hey what the hell are you doing!” a girl shouts at him. It’s a girl? She’s wearing torn jeans, an orange tank top over a black top, a backwards cap and her hair is multitone. Blue and white. She’s got an eyepatch with an eye patch sewn on it. Uh he’s not sure if that’s clever or strange.


Pushing back his tentacles, to get them out of his eyes, she looks at him. Her eye widens a bit.

“So you are normal looking,” she says.

“Why were you hiding behind that girl?” Lukas ask her.

“What you like her? She’s dressed like a hooker,” she smells of tobacco, but she isn’t much older than him.

“No, but there are girls being attacked around here and I want to know if you have seen anything,” Lukas tells her.

She just laughs.

“Oh that’s rich, are you here to stop the attacker?” she mocks.

“Subdue them, and let the police take care of them,” Lukas tells her, “So, are you going to tell me why you’re out here?”

“Yeah sure, after” she grabs at her back like a video game character would unsheathe a weapon, a wooden bat with nails suddenly appears, “after I break in your skull!”


Needed a better plan! Needed a better plan! She swings the bat at him and he manages to just barely get out of its way. Holy fuck! Uh combat. He’s never been trained in it. Uh duh, the attacker been beating people up should have expected this idiot. Running down the sidewalk, he hears the girl behind him.

“Runnnning away are weee,” she yells out, “That’s not allowed.”

Shit! Shit! Ah stupid web feet run faster. Wham! The bat nearly hits him as it barely whiffs past the front of his face. Okay if he doesn’t want to be served at a sushi restaurant tonight he’s got to come up with something fast. Wait, she’s - as she’s recovering he rubs his hands together to create his mucus between his hands. This better work, he allows a bit of his mucus drop where she’s standing, she’s already raising the bat up. Hope to god this works, keeping the dripping mucus from his hands he quickly starts to run away from her. Well as quickly as he can. Leaving a trial of mucus.

“Shouldn’t picked fights with people you can’t beeaa…….” as she runs after him, she slips on the puddle he has made in front of her feet early, she goes sliding down the sidewalk, crashing into a fire hydrant. Ouch. But that works, quickly running towards where she has landed, he grabs a handful of his seafoam. He quickly grabs her wrist before she can lift it up and sticks it to the sidewalk. She looks at him wide eye.

“Hey what are you doing to me!” she ask, “Gross! I am not into men that way!” she spits at him.

“Eugh, no I am just making sure you can’t move till the police get here,” he coats her baseball bat with seafoam. That should make it less dangerous. “CALL THE POLICE!” he shouts towards the bushes just across the street. All he sees is a thumb shoot up from the bush.

“Grrah, you’re a traitor to your kind,” she hisses at him.

“Strange thing about that, I am not an Ultra,” he shrugs, “Peace. Have a goodnight.” He runs off towards where Nadia is hiding.

Do these kids really believe he’s an idiot? They think they can pull a fast one on him. The hiding in Luka’s bedroom, secretly planning something likely. Holding onto the snack bowl, he barges into the room. Both Nadia and Lukas look at him quickly trying to push aside notebooks and papers. Robert raises a brow.

“I know when kids are plotting,” he says.

“We….aren’t plotting,” Lukas says, “We’re….just...doing homework.”

“In the last month or two, police have been describing crime scenes covered in slime and some vigilante hero sliming up other vigilantes,” Robert remarks looking at Lukas.

Lukas looks at him. Does he really think he couldn’t put things together? He raised him. More so than their parents did. Of course he’s going to know when his younger brother is out there fighting dangerous people. The hell do these kids think, he was born yesterday. Lukas sighs and Nadia looks away sadly at Lukas’ bed. Lukas bends down into a bow.

“Okay, you caught us,” Lukas tells him, “I promise not to do it again and I am sorry.”

Again, what do these kids think, that he’d believe something like that? No kid gives up that easily. Especially Lukas. It’s best not to fight this, this time. He just has to protect him at this point. Robert sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“You’re going to need an elite Altantean warrior on your team,” Robert says setting the snacks between the two. Nadia looks at him. Then at Lukas.

“Wait, you turn into a fish too?” Nadia ask Robert.

“I mean I prefer merman, but yeah I do,” Robert replies.

“Are we ignoring the fact that I am not a fish?” Lukas interjects.

“May I see?” Nadia ask.

Robert looks down at the carpet. He’d prefer not having to explain to the landlord what that strange ooze is in the carpet. He stands up.

“Come along to the bathroom, it has tile, easier to clean up,” Robert tells her.

“Don’t tell me you slime too,” Nadia says standing up. Lukas looks up at Nadia. Nadia smiles at him, “What I am curious.”

Shit. No one told him fourteen years ago he’d be skulking around office buildings with his baby brother and his highly cheerful girlfriend. It seemed like a year ago that this was for the laughs. Little miscellaneous task. They seemed harmless enough. Sure they have gotten into tight scenarios, but none of this - he’s got a bad feeling on this one. Taking a tip about a plotted murder of some high profile CEO. Definitely murder being plotted. Security lying on the floor. And considering the color of their skin, they aren’t alive. Tapping the earpiece.

“Now talk softly for me,” Robert prefaces first, “but I think we should retreat.”

“Why?” Nadia tries her hardest to be quieter than her usual tone.

“There are dead people that’s why,” Robert huffs, kids. It’s fine if they are catching cat burglars, literal cat burglar. Some hinky demon, goblin guy, wasn’t really sure on what he is, with hair styled like horns using cats to feed his pet monster. It’s fine when old ladies are secretly super martial artist beating on young people, that was kind of weird. This is different.

“Okay Robert,” Nadia says, “Lukas, did you catch that?”

“Wait - I am confused,” Lukas comes through.

“About?” Robert ask.

“We’re here to stop a murder, so there is going to be dead security guards, it comes with the territory of trying to stop murder. Why are we retreating?” Lukas ask.

Right. While he has a point, he has an obligation towards Lukas safety first.

“Let’s just stick with cute heroism,” Robert huffs through the mic, “This isn’t cute. This is serious.”

“But we knew that already,” Lukas remarks.

“I agree with Robert on this one, I don’t want the two of you to get hurt,” Nadia finally speaks up.

Lukas sighs, “Fine. Why even agree to stop a murder, when we just retreat because there are dead people. Duh. It’s a murderer.”

At least he’s willing to back off. Sure he’s not going to hear the end of it in the car, but Lukas isn’t an idiot. Of the fourteen years raising him that’s one thing he knows. Honestly despite their origins is it sad that he slightly agrees with the media on this one? Vigilantism heroism is only going to get someone hurt or killed if they step too far into the deep end. Kids shouldn’t be doing this kind of work. Kids are so, they desire to do the right thing and act so impulsive without thinking of the risk half the time. Sometimes he resents Nadia setting Lukas on this path. On the other hand, what would the police done? With the tip that is. They certainly also got the tip off there was going to be a murder here tonight and he didn’t see them sitting out on the block. Things should change where children don’t feel the need to be going out and doing the jobs for the police.

Fighting in Atlantis was different. There were dangers in the sea, that everyone had to be prepared to handle. But in the Human society they have police, these beings that are like the Atlantis guards, but where are they? Their presence lacking. To think if Lukas hadn’t been born, at this age he would have been an Elite Guardian of Atlantis. Protecting the cities from Abyss Drifters. And they would have been none the wiser of who his father was.

Human cities are supposed to be similar. The Police are supposed to be protectors. But unlike Atlantis they don’t seem to be doing their jobs well. In Atlantis it would have been expected a boy trained early from life to do his job. You could be exiled or lose rank or title if you didn’t. Those who didn’t do a job in Atlantis would have been shamed and dishonored. Depending on the severity of them relaxing on their duties. He really wish Lukas would grow out of this hero phase, it’s best he does now. Him and his girlfriend need to settle down. They aren’t meant to solve the world’s problems like this. Lukas probably get mad at him if he said any of this. But this isn’t work for teenagers. It’s meant for adults.

It’s not Ultras he has a problem against. It’s that children born with powers feel the need to exert some authority in some way. There should be a program that hires them instead and they become a branch of something. He has a problem with children doing this sort of work, considering - the dead guards. He’s finally made it back to the front door and headed out the door. He let Lukas in posing as an employee. It meant he actually had to apply for this shitty telemarketing company, but it posed a good way of getting in without having to trespass. Out on the streets in human form, he notices headlights coming closer. Shiiiiit.

“Lukas, hold off on coming out just yet,” Robert says fixing his name tag, as two officers come out of their car.

“Evening sir, I am Officer Jordan,” says the older, taller senior officer, in his mid thirties, fit, athletic, he holds onto his utility belt and puffs out his chest a little before relaxing only a bit. He’s trying to exert some kind of authoritarian control over Robert.

“Even officer,” Robert says nodding his head.

Jordan points to the building, “You uh work here.”

Robert nods, flashes his name card, John Mathews.

“Some neighbors called and complained about a disturbance in the building, you hear anything?” Jordan ask him.

“No sir,” Robert replies.

“What are you doing out this late John?” Jordan ask him.

“Boss is in late, just trying to take some of the workload off of him,” Robert slightly eyes towards the only window with a single light source.

“I see,” Jordan eyes him.

“Yep,” Robert smacks his lip.

“Do you mind if I take a look inside?” Jordan ask.

God dammit. Why do they always do this? They weren’t going to come over a tip of murder, but only came likely because of the earlier gunshots of the security guards. Now he’s using authority to push something out of him. If he obstructs him, he’s getting arrested tonight. Let him pass and that doesn’t bode well for either of them.

“Sure, I can take you to the boss,” Robert’s just trying to bide time, “Buildings like a maze.” Robert laughs.

Jordan smiles, “You like to tell jokes, Mr. Mathews?”

“That’s me, the work clown,” Robert smiles.

He’s starting to think this man thinks he’s the one who shot up the office. But if that were the case why would he stay? Bullet holes in the walls looked like the guards were shooting at someone, not someone shot them. Honestly he has no idea why the bodies were as stiff and petrified as they were holding onto their guns in frozen disturbing postures.

Jordan pats him on the shoulder, “Well show the way Mr. Mathews.”

Shit. Robert turns around back at the doors.

Bang! Shit! That’s never a good fucking sound. A muzzle flash has went off in the room with light. Jordan looks at him and Robert ducks on his knees.

“Aaaaaa! I don’t want to die!” he improvises and starts to whimper, “Oh my god! Was that a gun!”

This pacifies Jordan as he grabs onto his walkie, “I am going to need backup on Boulevard and Third for possible 10-71.”

As Jordan begins to head towards the office building. Robert grabs onto his earpiece, “Lukas the police are coming.”



Light glowed from the crack of the door. That’s likely where Micheal Peterson would be. He had just arrived here when they called for the retreat. He didn’t want to get involved in a murderer, he just wanted to inform Mr. Peterson someone would murder him. He still could? Placing a hand on the handle and turning it;
Bang!
Was that, a gun? Barging through the room. Peterson is holding a gun towards a white wall that now has a hole. A red man in a red coat is standing on the opposite side of the room. He’s dodged the bullet? Perhaps. The red man notices him and quickly runs from the side of the wall to the conference table. Lukas tries to step forward, but the red man gestures towards him. Lukas only barely catches the glimpse of something in the light glimmer as he steps forward something sharp enters his leg. Thin and sharp.

His leg has gone tingly. Like it’s fallen asleep. The red man grabs Mr. Peterson’s hand, Peterson seems to be struggling in the same with his hand as his leg is tingling. He tries to step forward still. But his leg is going numb.

Bang! The red man has taken Peterson gun from his hand and shot him in the center of his head, brain matter has splattered across the walls, bits of bone and blood have begin to smear down the white like some messed up painting. He feels kind of sick looking at Peterson head splattered all over the wall. The red man walks from the conference table and jumps off the edge.

“Lukas the police are coming,” Robert’s voice is in his ear.

He’s got go then. How? His leg locks up. Why can’t he move his leg? Why do his limbs feel like jello? The red man forces the gun into his hand.

“Hey,” Lukas states.

The man just shrugs, “Just business kid.” he says hoarsely.

He watches as the red man quickly runs along the table once again and leaps out the window he came from. This is like a four story building. Suddenly he hears footsteps. Four men barge into the room with guns waving around.

“Police!” they shout, “Put the weapon down.”

He would if he could, but his arms and legs feel.

“I can’t,” Lukas tells them.

“Drop the weapon!” they shout louder and more intensely at him, four guns being waved at him in his face. One man forcefully grabs onto his wrist and disarms him, as he’s been slammed to the ground when he can’t feel anything?

“You are being placed under arrest, anything you will say will and can be used against you in the court of law,” the police man is bigger and heavier than him. The cuffs are tight. He can feel that. They are rough with him too. His heart is racing. They can’t? They aren’t?!

“There was someone else here,” he tries to tell them.

They don’t say anything. He’s just being dragged down the hall because his leg won’t work.

“Please, someone else was here,” where is Robert? Robert can help, right? They don’t believe that he actually. Do they?

NAME: Alexander "Alex" Mackey

AGE: 35

GENDER: Male

ULTRA TYPE: Mutant

APPEARANCE: Standing six feet two and weighing a good 180 pounds, Alex is well enough built of a man for some women to call him a stud. He has brown eyes and a head of shoulder length, shaggy brown hair, with a long, thick nose and thin lips. His hands are big and thick yet soft and gentle, belying his calm, gentle nature. He normally dresses simply, often wearing a tee-shirt, plain blue jeans and sneakers underneath a dark green apron when he's at work. However, he will never be seen without his signature silver signet ring on his right index finger. This ring is decorated with a kite shield on its front, and engraved on the shield are the coat of arms of his ancestors; clockwise from the top left, a gothic cross, an eagle, a castle tower and a sword. He also has a silver chain, on which dangles a locket with a family picture inside it, whose case is engraved with an ornate castle tower.

OCCUPATION: Grocer

LOCATION: London, England

FAMILY/FRIENDS/OTHER:

• Robert "Bob" Mackey - Father, deceased; the father of the Mackey twins, Bob was a grand man, "descended from a line of Arthurian knights", so he claims. Together with his wife, Arwen, he was part of the superhero duo dubbed the "Knights Anglais", with his name being Excalibur. They fought crime in the UK for many years.
  
  His powerset was that of energy and matter manipulation, making him an immensely powerful super who could crush and destroy with ease. After Alex and Shirley came of age and developed powers of their own, he initiated them into the Knights, thus forming the power group of the coat of arms depicted on much of their imagery.
  
  He was killed late into the life of the twins after he and his wife were caught off-guard by a sniper hired by anti-super revolutionaries while visiting Cairo on vacation with the family.
• Arwen Mackey - Mother, deceased; Arwen was the mother of the Mackey twins and the wife of Robert. She possessed the power of sound manipulation and took the name of Banshee, as her powers allowed her flight similar to the Marvel hero of the same name. Along with her husband, she was part of the Knights Anglais, and together they fought crime in the UK for many years.
  
  She too was killed later in life, by the same gunman, alongside her husband while in Cairo on vacation, both husband and wife long since retired from crime-fighting. They left behind a legacy of sorts in their children, though this has mostly gone unnoticed due to the lives they have led since they left the Division.
• Shirleen Mackey - Sister, alive and well; Shirleen, or Shirley, is Alex's twin sister. More details on her can be found on her sheet below.

ABILITIES/STRENGTHS:

• Great Wall - Alex has superhuman endurance, able to withstand extreme levels of force and attacks that would normally topple a tank, that leaves him still standing strong.
• Super Strength - Alex possesses the strength of several hundred men, and can easily lift a small bus with little difficulty, jump as high as a small building and run faster than most humans can, though not as fast as those with super speed.
• Iron Skin - By virtue of his defense-based powers, Alex also possesses a superhuman tough skin, akin to Colossus in terms of durability. It's not metallic, of course, but it allows him to survive most attacks by unpowered individuals. Of course, things like RPGs or explosives or attacks from powered individuals can break past his defenses to do him damage.
• Green Thumb - Years spent growing his own vegetables and produce has made both the Mackey twins very adept at growing whatever they fancy. No powers involved, just lots of patience and love for plants.
• Street Smart - Having spent many years on the streets of London as a vagrant, Alex knows the ins and outs of street life, and is very savvy on what lowlifes and thugs do and how they do it.

VICES/WEAKNESSES: Booze and cigarettes, mostly. Alex is also a school dropout, so he is mostly home educated and has much to learn about higher subjects like sciences or advanced mathematics.

BACKSTORY
Alex and Shirley were born in London, England, to Robert and Arwen Mackey in the summer of 1989. Almost identical twins save for their genders, they both shared many things growing up in life; a school, teachers, similar hobbies and the like. However, what they didn't share was personality; Alex was cooler, calmer and more gentle, while Shirley was hot-headed, aggressive and fierce. Both siblings, however, were very protective of each other, evidenced by how close they were growing up.

But where Shirley excelled in her studies, Alex didn't. In their teens, Alex dropped out of school due to bad grades and spent a lot of his time on the streets, wandering around, getting into trouble and trying not to get caught. This was when he first caught wind of his powers of strength, endurance and defence, though he kept them a firm secret from anyone he knew, even his sister.

Eventually, his antics were reigned in by his father and he was slowly put on a home-schooling program, his mother being his teacher. He kept his powers a secret even from them, though this particular secret was badly kept as his folks caught wind very quickly of their son's potential.

When they both came of age, Alex and Shirley were introduced to the world of superhumans and their powers. It was no surprise that their parents were supers, of course, and they trained the twins on the use of their own powers; Alex of his immense strength and endurance, and Shirley of her light manipulation. After grasping the uses of their powers, their folks let them enter the Knights Anglais, the superhero team they'd founded themselves. The family of supers took to crime-fighting with ease, keeping their efforts across the UK low-key while maintaining their day lives as the family behind a small grocery store in downtown London.

In 2010, while on vacation in Cairo with the family, Alex bore witness to his parents' deaths by the hand of a single sniper. Caught by surprise, it only took two bullets to completely destroy the family, leaving him and his sister to pick up the pieces as they returned to London. The sniper was later found to have been a revolutionary that bore grudges against supers, and took the opportunity to send a message to the worldwide super community with the killings.



NAME/TITLE: Sciath, The Tower

APPEARANCE: In his identity as Sciath, Alex is normally clad in a navy blue flat cap and a black domino mask, mostly concealed by his shaggy hair. He wears a white turtleneck shirt underneath a brown trench coat that's normally left open. The length of chain that serves as his weapon is normally wrapped around his left arm. On his legs he wears a pair of beige cargo pants and steel-toed boots. On his hands are a pair of black leather driving gloves.

TOOLS/WEAPONS:

• A length of heavy-duty chain that serves as both his primary weapon and a power focus for his Power Channel ability stated above. Through the chain, he is able to fire out the powers he's absorbed.
• His fists and feet, naturally.

TRADEMARKS:

• The coat of arms mentioned above, displayed both on his signet ring and on the back of his coat.
• His long trench coat itself, emblazoned with the family coat of arms, is a symbol of the family and team he used to hail from.
• The tattoo of an ornate castle tower on the left side of his neck.

NAME: Shirleen "Shirley" Mackey

AGE: 35

GENDER: Female

ULTRA TYPE: Mutant

APPEARANCE: Standing a mere five feet five inches tall and weighing 155 pounds, Shirley is much smaller than her brother is. Her hair and eyes are the same shade of brown, and her hair is long and curly, flowing past her shoulders. She regularly keeps her hair tied in a ponytail and shares the same fashion sense as her brother, dressing simply in a blouse or shirt, jeans and shoes when at work or out. She too has a signet ring worn on her left index finger, though a smaller one for her dainty hands. The bronze chain she wears also has a locket on it, on which is engraved a Roman gladius and contains a picture of her family.

OCCUPATION: Grocer

LOCATION: London, England

FAMILY/FRIENDS/OTHER:

• Robert "Bob" Mackey - Father, deceased; Robert was her father. More information can be read in Alex's sheet above.
• Arwen Mackey - Mother, deceased; Arwen was her mother. More information can be read in Alex's sheet above.
• Alexander Mackey - Brother, alive and well; Alex is Shirley's twin brother. More information on him can be read in the sheet above.

ABILITIES/STRENGTHS:

• Light Manipulation - Shirley is able to manipulate visible light. It can be weaponised by way of firing or creating laser beams, creating bright bursts of light to disorientate, or creating focused beams of light to superheat targets. Defensively, she can create shields of light to block incoming attacks or sheath herself in an absence of light, making her invisible to the naked eye.
• Agile - By virtue of her powers being extremely adaptable, Shirley has trained herself to be just as such, taking gymnastics and parkour classes to keep her body fit to traverse any surface or cross any obstacle that her brother can't throw her over.
• Keen Eye - Shirley has also trained her innate ability of observation, picking up on subtle details on the environments or on foes quicker than most. Not superhuman, just well-trained.

VICES/WEAKNESSES: Shirley is quite light (geddit), for one, making her horrible in strength-based fights. Her powers are also quite situational: at night she is essentially a lighthouse, making her powerset useless for stealthy encounters or night-time escapes.

BACKSTORY
Alex and Shirley were born in London, England, to Robert and Arwen Mackey in the summer of 1989. Almost identical twins save for their genders, they both shared many things growing up in life; a school, teachers, similar hobbies and the like. However, what they didn't share was personality; Alex was cooler, calmer and more gentle, while Shirley was hot-headed, aggressive and fierce. Both siblings, however, were very protective of each other, evidenced by how close they were growing up.

While Alex became a dropout, Shirley excelled in her studies, taking a special interest in advanced physics as she moved on from public schooling to tertiary education. It was during her classes that she discovered her powers of light manipulation. This only fueled her desire to learn, and she took special classes to learn about particle physics, building up her knowledge about her powers.

After she graduated, she returned home to support her family in their grocery shop and her brother in his studies, though her powers were a badly-kept secret from her folks, much like her brother.

When they were both young adults, Alex and Shirley were introduced to the world of superhumans and their powers. It was no surprise that their parents were supers, of course, and they trained the twins on the use of their own powers; Alex of his immense strength and endurance, and Shirley of her light manipulation. After grasping the uses of their powers, their folks let them enter the Knights Anglais, the superhero team they'd founded themselves. The family of supers took to crime-fighting with ease, keeping their efforts across the UK low-key while maintaining their day lives as the family behind a small grocery store in downtown London.

In 2010, while on vacation in Cairo with the family, Shirley saw and failed to act against the gunman that killed both her parents in an act of rage. Caught by surprise, it only took two bullets to completely destroy the family, leaving her and her brother to pick up the pieces as they returned to London. The sniper was later found to have been a revolutionary that bore grudges against supers, and took the opportunity to send a message to the worldwide super community with the killings.



NAME/TITLE: Gladio, Beacon

APPEARANCE: When masquerading as Beacon, Shirley wears a pair of aviator shades on her face, with her hair tied up in a bun held in place by two long, thin hairpins. She keeps the lower half of her face hidden by wearing a turtleneck shirt with the neck pulled up over her nose, underneath a navy blue hooded jacket. Her hands are adorned with fingerless biking gloves, and she wears loose jeans and running shoes on her legs and feet. Shirley regularly leaves the hood of her jacket up over her head. She also wears her sword and its sheath on the left side of her waist, clipped to her jeans.

TOOLS/WEAPONS:

• Her hands, often used as focuses for her light beams. She likes to have her hands in the shape of handguns, since the idea of "finger guns" firing actual laser beams amuses her.
• A replica Roman gladius, picked up from a metalworker in London. The sword is used by her as a power focus, often being used to fire sword beams or detonate bursts of light.

TRADEMARKS:

• Her sword, of course, as a symbol of her heroine identity.
• The coat of arms emblazoned on the back of her hood.