|IDENTITY| Elliot Caldwell

| Origin & Backstory | -

Early life

The man who would become Wrath was born in Gotham City to career criminal Jamie Caldwell, a low-level mobster who managed to upgrade to hitman. His mother died in childbirth and as she lay dying, she made her husband promise to never abandon his son. It was a promise that would shape the boy before he ever drew his first breath. As time went on and Elliott grew older, his father's body count grew, and his arrogance increased.

His father began to get sloppy, began to start leaving a trail the GCPD could follow. While this was going on, Elliott was oblivious to his father's criminal life, believing himself to be just an ordinary rich kid with a dad more attentive than most. He went about school with a happy disposition, never realizing the dark side his father possessed, or of the tragedy that was to come.

Months passed, weeks went by, until one day came, one day that would forever change ED. Caldwell's life. The GCPD had been working around the clock to catch the hitman working for the Falcones, and they had sufficient evidence to warrant an arrest. Unfortunately, Carmine Falcone had already gotten word of Gotham PD's plans to arrest Caldwell Sr. and had ordered his men inside the Police to shoot on sight.

Elliott D. Caldwell wasn't supposed to be there that night. He was supposed to be sleeping over at a friend's. Had his father chosen to abandon his son and run solo, the Wrath might not have been born. But Caldwell Senior had planned to run with his son, and promised the boy's mother he would never abandon his son. So young Elliott was picked up early, and the Caldwells raced home, making haste to pack and only take what they could. Circumstances had other ideas. The police had known where Caldwell lived and a team of cops were covertly parked outside his home. When father and son were inside the house, their lawn was turned into a police barricade.

Seeing no way out, Jaime opened the door, hands raised. The corrupt cops under Falcone's thumb opened fire. Elliott Caldwell watched as his father died in a hail of police bullets, enraged but unable to do anything.

Somehow the beginnings of a new mission, a new purpose was born that night. It was a spark he took and blew into a flame.

The intermittent years

During the months after the murder, Elliott spent his time in seclusion, thinking on his father's death and the loss of control he felt. He vowed never again to feel like that. On his father's grave, he swore that he would rid the city of its greatest evil: corruption.

Due to his father's wishes, the money he had made-the blood money- was put into a blind trust and the legitimate funds he had acquired over the years was put together to make Elliot Caldwell the second-youngest billionaire in Gotham.

Six months after his seclusion, he finally went back into the world, but this time he saw Gotham for what it really was: A corrupt city, feeding on the greed of men, indulging in the vices of people like his father, like the GCPD.

Training
Leaving Gotham on his 18th birthday, he sought out the best men and women to further his purpose. The first was a man named simply Sensei. Under Sensei, Elliot learned philosophy and martial arts, coming to realize that justice is a ruse, that the only way to save Gotham is to control it. To control the evil that had taken his father's life, he must become it. With that realization, he began his martial arts training in earnest.

After two years of his training under Sensei, Elliot left and went to study under a tracker named William Doggett. Under Doggett, he learned how to hunt someone down, as well as how to become a ghost. When he had learned all he could from the bounty hunter, he killed the man. He next spent four years traveling the globe, honing his skills, becoming the man he needed to be.

Year One

Coming home on his 25th birthday, he was greeted well by a hail of press reporters all clamoring to be the harbinger of Eliott Caldwell's return. He declined to comment however, and instead retired to his home.

Three months after his return, he started his own company, Caldwell International, and as it turned into a profitable company, he knew he had a way to fund his crusade.

Almost immediately he began to put his purpose, his plan into motion, converting the basement as a base of operations, and setting up a private computer able to tap into any information database and almost any computer feed.

Still, despite his extensive training, he suffered a loss early in his career. Something was missing, something important. But what? That night as he lay there, bruised and bleeding on his chair, an anger unlike any other surged at his failure to keep the promise he made on his father's grave. Wrath was born.

His next step was to create the suit, and fashion an armory for himself.

His first night was by comparison, a failure. His injuries that had inadvertently led to the creation of his alter ego had been mild, but enough to send him home. His debut as Wrath was, by all accounts, inauspicious.

Over the next six months, Wrath fought against organized crime, forcing them to fold into organized crime ruled only by him. The war turned fierce and as Wrath began mounting a body count, The GCPD began to compose a case for the arrest of "the Mafia Killer." Headed by Harvey Bullock, the Organized Crime Task Force looks into these strange killings, unsure of whom kills these mobsters.

Nevertheless, Wrath still takes to the streets, taking pains to make sure Batman and the GCPD do not notice the shadow-war he wages.

| Character Notes | - Appearance: Elliott Caldwell/The Wrath is a tall man that stands at six feet three inches tall and weighs 200 pounds. Due to his crusade as Wrath, he keeps a peak physical appearance, and he possesses blond hair and green eyes. As The Wrath, he wears a black suit with a black cape and brown military camouflage detailing. Image:


| Powers & Abilities |

Master Martial Artist: through his training with Sensei and other experts in the field, Eliott is an expert martial artist and master of hand to hand combat

Detective: After Years spent abroad mastering criminology and the investigative arts, Elliot has quite the exceptional detective skills on his own.

Genius Level Intellect: Elliot is exceptionally smart, having designed and built his suit personally. He is also a master tactician.

Stealth: Ninjutsu has taught him the value of the shadows

Marksman: despite his distaste for guns, he is an excellent marksman, able to throw Razorangs with deadly accuracy.

Peak Physical Stature: after years of discipline and forceful training, Elliott

| How is this character different? | honestly I pulled inspiration from Batman: Year One for how he chooses the moniker of Wrath. His mission is similar to Bruce's in that he wants to save Gotham but where he differs is this: he thinks that the only way to save Gotham is to control not just the criminal aspect, but all of it. It, to me is a dark perversion of Bruce's mission: bring it not into the light, but to evil. He's not so much an anti batman as he is a darker batman.

| What is your goal with this character? | to create a character that can oppose Bruce but still be able to have his own missions and adventures, can be the dark reflection of Bruce, without being dependent on him. I also wanted to take a character in my niche and expand my character library while simultaneously providing story.

|Sample Post|

Gotham.

Four hours before the new year.

This is my home now. This Gotham City is different, yet familiar. Crime still ravages it like a plague, a cancer that can't be eradicated. It must be controlled. That is why I sit here, perched atop a building like a gargoyle, waiting for this meeting to take place. The Dimitrovs have suffered heavy losses against Batman, and as such, have taken great pains to hide themselves from him. They can't hide from me.

My name is Elliot D. Caldwell, and to Gotham's citizenry, I am CEO of Caldwell International. To these thugs and Gotham's criminal element I will be known as Wrath.

Time passes, and still the black stretch limos bearing the ruling members still sit beneath the bridge, waiting for their security to be assured. Finally, a break occurs. Two men step out of the limos, both flanked by at least four guards. All of them are armed.

"Father, why do you call me here, so late into the year? I should be at home with my wife and daughter waiting to ring in the new year." The first man to speak is Anatoli Dimitrov, the boss' son. Rumor has it that he only gained his position thanks to nepotism.

"Anatoli. You know why it is we meet like this, so late into the night. The cops cannot hear us beneath the expressway. We are safe to do as we will." Vladimir Ilyich Dimitrov, aging head of the Dimitrov crime family. Their rackets go from murder and extortion to information brokers and car thievery. If there's money to be made, the Dimitrovs have a hand in it.

"True, father, but the Batman-" "Is nothing more than gangland myth." I snort silently. He's real enough, and a problem that might have to be dealt with. With the matter at hand however, I decide it is time to make my move.

Leaping from my perch, the cape behind me extends back in the updraft, slowing me down. I land feet first into one of Anatoli's guards, using his body weight and my momentum as a springboard to launch into my next foe, driving my fist into his face. He goes down, taken out by a fractured jaw. Lashing out behind me I connect a boot to the gut of the guard behind me.

3 down, Five left. I use the cape as a distraction, drawing the attention of the guards who've managed to draw their weapons and fire while readying a razorang. It snaps open with a metallic ring. Ears perk up, but have little time to react. I sink my weapon into a guard with pinpoint accuracy. He screams and falls, clutching at his leg. Maiming them is the better option here; bodies would draw attention I don't need.

Four down, four left. So far I've been using the element of surprise to throw them off guard, but the ones still standing have time to react. I need to act quickly if I'm to maintain the advantage. Unfortunately I catch a fist across the jaw. Ears are ringing, but it isn't the first hit I've taken. A fist to the gut makes him lose his breath, but he isn't down. An elbow to the head sends him unconscious to the blacktop.

Another one comes up behind me, but now they know it will take a lot to put me down. So they revert to guns. Cold steel touches the back of my cowl. I react instantly, moving to my right, bringing an arm up to deflect the gun, which goes off into his compatriot's shoulder. At the same time I grab his shoulder and heave him behind me, crashing him into the ground. Before he can mount any sort of defense, I pull his elbow back into my knee. A sickening crunch is heard.

Two left. A flicker of my cape and an razorang appears in each hand. Both find their targets. The fight ends, leaving me standing over a group of unconscious men, and I turn to the father and son. I choose the son, dragging him behind me, ignoring his father's indignant shouts.
----------------------------–-----------------------------

One Hour to midnight.

I pull up to the Kane family estate in a black Savile Row suit and present my invitation to the doorman who promptly shows me in. I take in the brightness of the decor and the luxury of the mansion. It reminds me of my own home and of the Gotham I have irreparably left behind.

Like the new year, however, this is a new beginning. A new start for me. As an acquaintance of Phillip Kane, I managed to procure an invitation to the party he has thrown to celebrate the new year. His wife, Bethany, shows me around the socialites, introducing me to her family as "the businessman" in a room full of businessmen and CEOs.

Truth be told, the party and its company is rather dull, until Bethany introduces me to a man with black hair to my dark blonde albeit blue eyes instead of my green. "Elliot, this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Elliot Caldwell."

For a moment I have a look of surprise on my face, albeit one that disappears as quickly as it came. I stick my hand out and smile. It is a smile with none of the rich veneer, but sincerity.

"Good to meet you, Bruce."

"Ah, the thrill of the hunt -- there's no feeling in the world like it!"

---

| Identity |
Thomas Blake; AKA Catman

| Origin & Backstory |
Childhood - As a young boy, Thomas Blake was born to a well-off family of three, consisting of himself and his two parents, Reese and Sierra Blake, living in Blüdhaven. However, as he grew older, into adolescence, the scenery of his home became less vibrant, and unmistakably morbid. His father became an alcoholic, began to abuse his wife, and treated Thomas worse than he had treated the dog. In fact, he made a barbed fence, slightly too tall for Thomas to comfortably climb over, and would trap him inside of it with the dog, which would be used to attack the child. Eventually, Thomas learned to climb the fence ridiculously fast and would run away until his father had calmed down. He'd often felt like his only real friends were the alley cats, which he'd taken great pleasure in the company of. He even helped to care for them, using table scraps whenever he could.

Late Teens - When Thomas was seventeen, his father won the jackpot, gaining twenty-five million dollars from the incredible streak of luck, which he turned around and began to waste like a madman. Instead of spending his time tormenting his family, he simply neglected them, ignoring their existence for months at a time while Thomas and his mother anxiously awaited him to release or at least express his aggression. But after living the life of a playboy millionaire for a short few years, Thomas' father died in a car wreck that instantly snapped his neck after a night of wild partying. Thomas was nineteen years old at the time. He'd felt no remorse or even the slightest grief for his father's passing, only regretting that he hadn't personally seen it. As a result, due to a small piece of his will that made it so that he would still make trouble for his family, he and his mother were each awarded five hundred thousand dollars. Though it was still a significant amount of money, it necessitated an immediate change of lifestyle because, in comparison to their former wealth, it was infinitesimal.

Year One - Years after his father had died and the dust had settled, Thomas' mother disowned him, asserting that he had been the one at fault for the misery that had consumed their lives ever since his childhood. With no reason left to stay in The Haven, Thomas left, not initially knowing where he was headed, but believing it was a journey of self-discovery. Hearing of Gotham's Batman, he headed there, hoping to find the legendary being in hopes of walking away with something. Upon hearing that the Batman only stopped criminals, he broke and entered in a high-crime area. Disguised as a cat burglar, he was beaten brutally, though he did walk away with something. He walked away with a pair of handcuffs and multiple misdemeanors, though he managed to hire a lawyer that skillfully allowed him a way out of his mess, though it took several months to reach a conclusion due to a disagreement over how he was apprehended because of the jury's mixed beliefs about The Batman's existence.

Year Two - Deciding that Gotham also had nothing for him, Thomas shipped out and began a trip to Africa, though not in the typical fashion or the usual reason. Arriving on a plane, Thomas landed somewhere in the savanna, where he would be part of a reality TV show that put it's stars in the middle of Africa with no protection, no obvious sustenance, and no electricity, aside from the camera crew. A few skilled survival experts lent their experiences to the cast in order to help them survive their first few days. Unlike most of the others, Thomas listened to every word that came out of their mouths until the most unexpected thing happened, one of them was eaten by hyenas in their sleep. Panicking, the cast, sans Thomas, all scattered and tried to make their own ways as best they could, hoarding what little food they had obtained as a group and killing each other over the purified water. However, Thomas avoided the others as much as possible, focusing on the unseen threats that were known to be extraordinarily dangerous: The Ants. When night fell, Thomas was high above the ground in two trees, resting within a hammock that was protected by a sticky layer of sap to trap any ants that came his way.

When morning came, all the others were dead, but Thomas was miraculously still alive. He couldn't believe his luck, so he took no chances. He immediately began to search for the survivalists, but for hours he couldn't find any of them. Eventually he found one of them, he was partially eaten alive and rotting under the sun. So, scavenging off the dead man, Thomas took his knife and his water, leaving everything else to avoid leaving his scent. But, a short ways away, he found a small collection of books about the african savanna. He found guides to hunting, studies of animal behavior, and general survival guides. Heeding their every word, Thomas studied them after relocating them below his hammock. After a few days of having no food, what little fat he had dissipated. Fearing he would starve to death, Thomas made a risky move. He decided to go hunting. After carefully researching what a 'good' first kill is, he slaughtered a wild boar and, hurriedly, started a fire using a book of matches he'd brought with him and cooked the boar. For several weeks he lived like this, abandoning his food upon nightfall, for fear of what might kill him for it.

Using the information in his books, he began learning skills that were highly advised against because of the constantly inherent danger. He began to sneak up on animals and eat their young. He killed other animals who'd just come from the watering hole, having found a way to drink from their internal organs. Eventually, he grew so brazen as to try to steal from a lone lion. He almost got away with it, but he accidentally alerted the feral feline, who responded by dragging three of it's claws across Thomas' bare chest. Knowing he couldn't outrun the lion, he pulled out his knife, which he'd been practicing with for some time, and he dueled the beast. Despite the likelihood of death, he came out victorious, leaving it dead instead. But, not wanting to waste it's body, he fashioned a new set of clothing from it's pelt and mane, taking it's claws and teeth to produce weapons. Knowing that there was no way he could leave the savanna at the time because of the dangers, he decided to try to rest with the lions, understanding that he could in fact kill one if need be. He then challenged the alpha male, who he approached. The alpha male saw the mane Thomas had stolen as a challenge for leadership. So they fought to the death.

Miraculously, once again, Thomas came out on top, and, because of some apparent glitch in nature, was accepted by the underlings. Still heeding the advice of the books about animal culture, Thomas reluctantly killed all the cubs of the previous male, except for a newborn that came into the world days after Thomas seized control. To the best of his ability as a human, Thomas fulfilled his role as the alpha male, accepting a portion of every kill made by his pride.

Year Three - After living in Africa for months, Thomas decided that it was time to go back home. So, without having any way to tell his pride (them being lions), he abruptly stood up and left one day. He began a long trek across the African savanna where he applied every bit of his acquired knowledge to reach civilization again. After weeks of journeying, he finally made it to a village that happened to have English speaking residents. They gave him direction to a city, where he found an airport, where he withdrew money from his bank account (which still had nearly half a million dollars) and took a private flight home to Blüdhaven. Not making a big deal about his return as other, wealthier individuals had, he quietly settled into a life of ease and comfort. He found only one problem: He was excruciatingly bored. He missed the thrill of the hunt.

Rather than ignore his base desire to hunt, he adapted it to his new surroundings. He used the urban resources at his disposal to transform the lion's pelt into a lining for a full costume that includes combat boots, bullet-proof armor, stab resistant lining, 'clawed' gloves and a mask that resembled Batman's, but with wider ears. He'd colored it sandy shades of orange and yellow in order to pay homage to the lions that had taught him so much. And, emblazoned across the center of his chest, was a design resembling the three slashes from the lion that had scarred him a year before. With this costume and various hunting tools and techniques, he decided to do the largely corrupt Blüdhaven police a favor by stalking the area's most elusive and ferocious criminals before turning them in. As a nod to the dark knight of Gotham, he called himself Catman.

| Character Notes |
-He is Twenty-Six years old.
-He has been Catman for slightly less than a year.
-He has 490,000 dollars, making him rich-ish.
-He has adopted a pet kitten and named it Rasputin.
-Because of his childhood mistreatment, he abhors dogs.

Current targets of Catman's:


| Powers & Abilities |
His time in Africa left his body built very densely, with compacted muscle and very callused skin. He is both light and quick on his feet and has grown overall highly agile and acrobatic, having improved his equilibrium through practice. Climbing trees and rock walls are not problems for him, nor does he shy away from activities that have a high risk of serious injury. Living in the wild has left him very much in touch with his senses, mostly his senses of smell and hearing. He has gained great skill with knives, as such he always carries multiple combat knives as well as a pair of short wolverine-style 'claws' that can be put onto the knuckles of his gloves. His costume is resistant to knives, bullets, fire, and padded to shield him from blunt trauma. Because he spent days on end studying guides and papers on animals, he has become something of an expert on the African ecosystem. He is extremely resourceful, constantly researches his opponents, makes multiple adaptable plans for their capture, and has become a skilled tracker. He almost never makes the same mistake twice. Though he has relatively little in the way of equipment right now, his inventory will progressively become more urbanized as he gains new experiences in urban environments. Currently, two additions he has made to his toolkit is a pair of night-vision lenses for his mask and a pair of hearing aids that amplify his awareness of what's around him.

| How is this character different? |
At the moment he does not have a son. He was actually stranded in the African savanna as opposed to purposefully remaining there. His outfit lacks a cape to avoid pointless similarity to Batman when a capeless costume would be more fitting to a more agile character. Aside from that, he left the savanna after finding 'enlightenment' to come back to his home, which is now Blüdhaven. Because his motivation is the thrill of the hunt, and the fact that he could really care less about justice and the law, he shall likely be chasing some characters with borders meaning nothing to him. In this continuity, he had been a cat burglar as a one time thing, and he'd met the Batman, though it was so insignificant that it would likely mean nothing to The Bat. In this continuity, he never was a big game hunter, but, like Marvel's Kraven, finds that animals aren't as interesting to pursue as intelligent humans. Also of note: because he has no cape, he is not magically shielded from mortal wounds.

| What is your goal with this character? |
To tell the story of a man who doesn't consider himself a good person and readily accepts that evil exists within the world as a natural and necessary part of it, but at the same time believes that he can tame the beast within and ultimately use it for his betterment. I want to tell an 'Ultimate' version of the tale that emerged from the pages of 'Secret Six' and then do things that (as far as I know) have never been done with a superhero story. The fact that his identity is a nod to someone else while still having himself clearly defined is something of a rarity in comics. I feel like he's likely to do a lot of travel, so he would be ideal for interacting with a lot of players (but not Robinson Park style, I've learned from my mistakes.) and could offer something of a Batfamily tie-in later if Gowi would be interested. If not, I'm cool with it, but I think it'd be a natural thing to do. Much like modern Green Arrow stories tend to do, and like I wish Batman stories did, I plan on having frequent flashbacks to his time in which he was away from home. Now, I know that we make an attempt to avoid having too many characters belonging to a specific franchise. And I totally respect that. But, I feel sometimes when we sort characters by the franchise the come from, it limits what we can do as players to a certain extent. These games have always had a certain tendency to pull towards a couple clusters of characters that inevitably leave a million NPC'd solo heroes. I feel, in the pages of Villains United & Secret Six, that Catman came into his own and made a departure from being a simple Batman knock-off. I feel he is a character that could've been very interesting to see in the limelight even longer. So I wanna tell stories that are largely inspired by that series, but ultimately very different.

| Sample Post |

Blüdhaven, New Jersey
11:30 PM, January 1 2014

I'd been kneeling on the edge of the roof of a Blüdhaven apartment complex for hours when I was awaiting the arrival of a beast that had been plaguing Blüdhaven's citizens for weeks. At a menacing ten feet tall, covered in an oak brown fur, with a twenty foot wingspan and an amazing amount of muscle, it would take more than a simple ambush to catch it off guard. Several witnesses believe it's The Batman, but I know better. I've met the Batman, and he's no winged beast. It had to be something else, though I honestly hadn't known what, So, setting up several traps in the vicinity of my perch, I had several city blocks in any direction prepared for a confrontation of dramatic proportions with the creature. He allegedly has a humanoid body, albeit one with wings. So it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that a direct assault would likely result in the death of the assailant.

I used to run from the dogs my father would sic' on me. But, since then, I've realized something. My father used to prey on me because he thought my fear was delicious. Deep down, I can see the appeal. I understand what it's like to want to feel formidible, to feel like there is nothing that can stop you. The power that fear holds over people is addictive, and everyone always has a little more innocence left to lose. But that is exactly why I don't want to hang over people like a sadistic shadow.

It's one thing when you can use intimidation and stealth to prey on the fear of others who don't believe they can stop you, mostly out of some belief that you can do things they can't prepare for. But it is another thing entirely to flex some muscles and stare into the eyes of your opponent, run up to them, and let them slowly come to the realization that there is absolutely nothing that they can possibly do to stop you. Now nobody's perfect, and I'm no exception. Personally, I prefer a mixture of the two styles. The first one involves getting beat a lot less, while the second one is cool,

Gradually, I was lured away from my internal monologue by the gentle sound of a rhythmic breeze. I slowly tipped my face upward and searched out the source of the noise noise. I cupped my ears and slowly swiveled my head like a satellite dish zeroing in on a signal until I had decided he was coming from the North. So, activating my night-vision lenses, I swept the direction with my eyes until I'd determined it's elevation and distance. It was about five blocks away and four stories high.

"Showtime" I whispered with a curled lip that led into a giddy grin.

I reached down to a remote control that I'd personally created, and then dropped my finger on a button at the edge of an array of switches and toggles that were connected to various traps and tools scattered around my little 'Danger Zone.'

"Skreee!" The beast shrieked as a barrage of low altitude fireworks bombarded the city streets around the bat-beast. "Yip! Eeeagh!"

A storm of color chased it forward and towards my location. A set of rotating laser lights aimed above kept it from comfortably rising in the air while the fireworks bit at it's leathery heels. Soon enough, formerly sleeping citizens were drawing their shades and opening their windows to look outside at the spectacular pursuit. As if on cue, angry and overreactive men and women began hurling emptied beer bottles and their garbage at the ferocious beast. Finally, when he was close enough to my location, I touched down on another button that launched a net from a cannon installed upon a gargoyle's shoulder. Spreading itself like a parachute, the net stretched over the bat-beast before it wrapped itself around it and grew tangled and convoluted between the folds of it's wings. Unable to fly, it fell to the ground as ungracefully as anything else that plummets from four stories high. It crashed in the left lane of the street before tumbling into a parked taxi whose driver was off for the night.

"That probably hurt," I took note as the bat-thing skittered and violently rolled across the littered and narrow streets. Surprised, dazed, confused, cornered, hurt, and restrained. The only thing left to do was to go in for the kill.

I grabbed hold of and slid down a gutter that ran down the edifice before pushing off the building and, just like my namesake, landed on my feet with my fingertips spreading the forces throughout my body. As I stood up and drew my knife, the beast stopped struggling and turned it's head. Bright red corneas overlapped black pupils that focused on me. As if a light had been turned on, it stood straight up, no longer afraid, and made very deliberate movements as it shredded the net that had taken it to the street level. Finally freeing itself completely, it threw it's wings all the way apart, sending a gust of wind that almost threw me off my feet. It was just then that I realized exactly how bad of an idea this had been. It stepped forward, so I did the opposite, backing away towards the building.

Employing a little bit of banter, I voiced a genuine regret, "I wish I grabbed a taco before I came to die. That would've sucked less, I guess."