Appearance:


Name: Vincent Silver
Age: 32
Gender: Male

Hero/Villain Name: Dealer
Quirk Name: Substitution
Quirk Type: Emitter
Quirk Description: Substitute allows the user to swap any two items between their right and left hands. The connection between the two items is maintained so long as one of the items is held. There is a weight limit but it is about a small car's worth. The distance of a maintained bond between objects is about 100 meters.

Inventory & Possessions:
The only thing important to him is always keeping a purple flower, a Blackjack Viola, on his person at all times.

Sample Post:
"Hobbies are important, mom. One must keep their mind preoccupied otherwise they will drive themselves insane." Vincent spoke in a hushed tone and yet his voice was smooth, carrying the vibe of an evening radio DJ. Maybe that's his mother called as much as she did. It was anyone's guess since she hadn't really cared before. Whatever her response was, his attention hadn't wavered from the bed of flowers before him. All sorts of colors, shapes, and patterns lay before his scanning gaze. Gardening was a craft that didn't require careful attentiveness as the flowers did most of the work but it was one that you could really get into for perfect flowers.

"Yes, you say that every time I mention my garden but I can assure you, I have moved on since Emily's death. I've found..." Vincent paused as he caught the sight of a small honey bee that was circling one of his flowers. He reached out and gently coaxed it onto his finger. "...New purpose in life. You don't have to worry about me." His words still calm as he brought the creeping insect up to eye level. His inspection so close that the bee could, if it cared to, listen in on what his mother said back through the phone's speaker.

"Of course. Talk to you later." His tone never betrayed his true emotion. He hung up, slipping the phone into a pocket, and then he reached out for a small stone. Never taking his eyes off the bee, he dropped the stone into his watering pail and then with a sudden poof, the bee disappeared and the stone appeared on the back of his hand. He rolled his hand and the stone slid off. He rose to his feet, picked up his watering pail, and walked back towards his small house as if not sparing another thought about what he did.

However, that bee was the only thing on his mind. Why had it selected the roses and not the violas? What made that one flower more worthy of pollination than the others? The other flowers deserved the chance to have a pollinator just as much that rose. Vincent's mind twisted around these and many other questions as he absently dressed himself for work. He continued to dwell on these thoughts even into his shift. A coworker would ask, "why the long face?" to which Vincent gave the truth. "Why the roses?" But the coworker wouldn't understand. Violas were Emily's favorite and yet that bee couldn't even spare a second thought to help the violas when there roses in need. Was it because the bee preferred roses?

After his shift had ended, his mind still brooded about the reality of the bee's choice. Both flowers, both in the same flower bed, and both in need, yet the choice was made. Save the rose but fail to save the viola. That choice was being made everyday in this world and the fact that it was happening was a sickening thought. It had to end. Here and now. For Emily.

Name
Dakota Roice
Hero Name
The Memorable Hero, Remorie!
Age
15
Gender
Female

Appearance



Quirk Name
Memory
Quirk Type
Emitter
Quirk Description
Memory enables Dakota to form a bright green energy out of her temples. The energy is produced from memories, meaning that Dakota loses them when using her Quirk. The energy acts similar to a sort of plasma, burning through and damaging non-metallic materials and hot to anyone's touch but Dakota's. Once made, Dakota has limited control over the energy; at the moment all she can do with it is shoot it like a projectile. It's capable of being shaped and can even subsist for a certain amount of time once disconnected from any part of Dakota, but her lack of expertise with using her Quirk means she can't capitalize on these traits so well.

Once a specific "take" of the energy dissipates for whatever reason, the memories used to make it cease to exist. Dakota can't recall them naturally, though since the synapses involved with them are still a part of her brain, she can eventually regain them. Dakota can choose to use up multiple memories to produce a bigger effect (size, power, or otherwise), with all those memories equally forfeit with the blast. Memory defaults to her short-term memory when used, so if Dakota isn't careful about what memories she chooses, the most recent ones well-up first.

Memory cannot be used on memories that are central to Dakota - any recollection that's deep rooted into her personality are unable to be burnt up, likely as a self-preservation technique.

Possessions
Dakota's only real possession of note is her Memory Journal. She keeps it everywhere she goes, and records as much as she can down in it, from ordinary events to useless trivia to a cool poem she read that day. Most smaller memories can be regained by reading them in her journal - she trusts its word over any other's.

Sample Post
"Pull!"

Dakota's eyes snapped from the sky above to one of the lean teenagers in the alley with her. In the blink of an eye, the kid chucked his soda can straight up. Dakota followed it; as it reached the peak of its arc, the young girl snapped a finger to her temple and flicked it forward. A bolt of bright green light shot through the air and hit the can, bursting into a shower of sparkles and soda. The small group of teens cheered, echoing throughout the alley, and Dakota smiled, eyes locked onto the space where the can used to be.

"Not bad." One of the teens, a stockier one that was sitting on the drink cooler, shook Dakota from her zoning out. He offered her a (not disintegrated) soda. "What was yer name again?"

"Dakota!" She beamed and reached for the drink... only for the leaner teen to snatch it from the boy's hand. He shook his head, a coy smile on his face as he held up the can.

"That ain't what ya told me earlier."

"S'not?"

"Nahh," the teen said, glancing to his friends. "You said it was like, Geraldine, or somethin'."

For a moment, Dakota just looked at him. Her focus slowly shifted, eyes glazing as her so-called attention span turned her vision fuzzy. Then, with a chipper squeak, she said, "Oh! Okay." She turned back to the bulkier teen, smiling still. "I'm Geraldine!"

A wave of snickers passed over the teens. "Right, Geraldine," the lean one said, "let's see you nab this one!" He tossed the soda - her soda, not that she even realized it was - and she did it again, spraying the brick wall with sweet bubbling beverage. A small round of applause passed again, and the teen with the drinks held out another one to her.

"Not bad," he said, nearly the exact same tone as before. "What did ya say yer name was, again?"

Dakota smiled and, with all the confidence in the world, replied as if it were the truth. "I'm Geraldine!"

Name
Orson Bigges
Villain Name
Big Shot
Age
38
Gender
Male

Appearance



Quirk Name
Body Double
Quirk Type
Emitter
Quirk Description
Orson's quirk was, originally, very limited in its capability. Body Double let Orson make a single clone of himself over a short period of time. They had a shared consciousness and shared every physical trait, down to cadence and tics. The clone could also take just as much punishment and pain as the original Orson, though at a certain threshold it would disintegrate. The process was too long to be used in the heat of battle, requiring Orson to be clever in its use... at least, originally.

After years of slow EVO used, Body Double has since undergone a massive metamorphosis. Semi-playfully dubbed "Children" by Orson, his Quirk can now be used almost instantly, but the more important change is that instead of solely creating an identical lookalike, Orson is able to produce multiple copies at once, at the cost of their intelligence and likeness - they come out more like malformed, humanoid creatures than clones of Orson. The more he makes, the more the shared consciousness is replaced by a faint telepathic control, the clones acting on Orson's goals, so long as he can concentrate on them (the more he wants them to accomplish, the easier it is to disrupt the train of thought). This, however, comes with added downsides, the biggest of which being that the more clones he makes, the weaker he himself becomes, losing his luster and becoming physically frailer.

Inventory
There are two things that Orson never lets leave him hands: a small .357 Derringer that he keeps in a pocket holster at all times, and three thumb-sized vials of his infamous drug, EVO, a thick dark-purple fluid. EVO is a heavily modified offshoot from the equally prevalent drug, Trigger, with even nastier effects; complete biological evolution of Quirks, permanently. Side effects include premature fusing of skeletal structure (thus Orson's deformities), and in many cases mental instability due to the body not being able to handle the new extents of its Quirk.

Sample Post
Orson watched the ceiling fan spin lazily above him, circulating more dust than it did the summer heat. But his attentions were elsewhere. Like hell he would let himself wallow in this dingy apartment, self-pity piled around him. Even now, when he was at his rock bottom, rug swept from his feet and nothing else in the world for him, he was focused solely on business.

It just happened that his current business was keeping himself out of prison.

His mind's eye drifted between the different consciousnesses around him; he glanced around the corner of the motel he was hidden in, tracking every car that even passed the street; he scanned the skies from the rooftop, dropping low to the decaying tile at any dark shape that flew overhead; and he stared at the door to his room like a hawk, carefully hidden in the unlit rafters above. He was safe, for now, not that it would stop him from check.....

"...night's biggest story, the capture of Orson Bigges."

All at once, Orson returned to himself, like he just took a dive into a freezing pool. He sat up in bed, just enough to see the old CRTV, and the news that was playing on it.

"As I'm sure our audience is aware, today was another triumphant triumph over villainy as notorious kingpin Orson Bigges, otherwise known as 'Big Shot' - guess the guy had some confidence problems, eh? - was uprooted from his spot during a massive sting on his entire operation. Officials say that the majority of Bigges' manufacturers were arrested, putting an end to any major production of EVO within the Southern California area. Officials also say that while the drug's distribution is heavily crippled, Bigges himself has evaded custody, and that it is imperative that any knowledge of his whereabouts be reported. Coming up, the San Jose Armadillos face off again--"

The TV was suddenly wrenched from its stand and thrown to the floor, where it shattered into pieces. Orson was, again, surprised, but not as much as before. Rage had filled his mind, making him clench the bedsheets. And while his awareness had wandered from him, his 'Children' acted on his desires. In the dim moonlight, the three Children he had on watch returned to the room. Wiry bodies and heads too big for them, facial features stretched or outright missing. One didn't have an arm. And they were just looking at him, a low gurgling coming from their throats.

Orson sighed and released the sheets. "Thanks, guys," he muttered, falling back onto his pillow. He turned his head, staring out the window at the night sky, and after a moment his three personal bodyguards began climbing back outside...

To go find him a new TV.