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[OOC] Shugo Tensei Samurai - A Cyberpunk Fantasy RP
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Meleck Cleric on the Northern Plains
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Tao Zhen | Nicknames: Doc/CrashCart
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Tao Zhen Nicknames/Aliases: Crash Cart, Doc Birth City/District: Neo-Tokyo, Maebaru Age: 24 Height: 5’6” Racial Background: Chinese-Korean Race: Y.S.G Awakened Height: Self Explanatory. Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Emerald Green Appearance: Tao looks like a short Korean man. His eyes appear to be an owl and he tends to stare. He dresses in very nice clothes, normally neo-goth, dark colors normally black when he is out and white when he is in the clinic. He has long hair braided into a single braid that goes to his neck (was cut when his family disowned him). His hair is black with a splash of red. He tends to wear a hood covering his head as his eyes and his habit of staring right threw you makes people uncomfortable(His nurse told him this many times) when he is out. He will wear a filter mask to keep the smog out of his lungs. Mutation Marker(s): Y.S.G Holder He has the wings of a snow owl that fold to his sides. He has eyes with larger Irises and abnormal emerald green in color. Personality: Tao is a very driven and intelligent man. Has watched his world come apart due to unfortunate circumstances. One botched operation and he was abandoned by his family and his practice collapsed. Now his practice is under the control of the gang. In general, Tao likes people and does not care where they come from oR what they do. This is tempered with the understanding that some people are just cruel jerks. Tao can also be a bit gruff (Like House) when overly tired or stressed. He can be overly sure of himself (Chen from Remo Williams). Like many doctors, he thinks he is the best one to practice medicine, In social situations, he tends to sit back and watch. He is worried that someone will recognize him and bring up his shame and failures. He can be charming and polite knowing social estimates from his upbringing. In combat, he is not going to storm a building while shots are being fired at him with a compelling reason. He is more likely to point the gun in the air and pull the trigger to be a noise make and keep people's heads down when using live rounds. He prefers non-lethal rounds and hates flechette rounds. He will fight when he needs to and fights best when he is defending others. He believes he is the best cyber surgeon in Neo-Tokyo. He likes to complain that the gang is putting him out of business and how much it is costing him to fix all these people up. He claims he would be profitable if he did not do as much charity work. His clinic would not have survived without the gang. He has a love/hate relationship with the bookies two blocks away. He wants to burn the place down to get it out of the area, but it calls to him (He is in recovery). Aspirations: To get his clinic back up and running Money, women, the good life To be a good doctor that helps people. Fears: Fear of killing someone. Fear of messing up another surgery. Fear of being hunted Fear of not being able to protect his people. Fear of getting caught Women and the good life. Vehicle: Mitsuhama Shogun - in need of some work. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Tao has a photographic memory and recall. He has some black market connections for bio, cyberware, and medical supplies. He is good with computers and electronics (for cyber stuff) His exceptional ability is as a healer. He is coming into his magic, mostly due to finances and training. He uses his magical abilities to help with his healing. Flaws: Tao is so focused on his thoughts. This means he misses social clues. Tao likes to bet on sports and builds analytic models which mostly have some flaws. Does not tend to be good in combat until he is defending someone or something he cares about. Always broke, his office manager is stashing money away so he does not gamble it away and keeping the place in good repair, food in the fridges, and the lights on. Y.S.G Ability(es): Primary: Healing powers Base healing touch - can heal a little bit of damage and clear stun. As it advances the healing can be greater. Soul Bond Weapon(s): Wakizashi - The blade is slightly curved and about 2’ in length. It is made of steel and silver with a jade case and handles. When brought forth the blade glows blueish. The effect is a blast of cold that lasts for a while. Hold out pistol the gang got him. Cybernetics/Gadgets/Accessories: Induction data Jack for interfacing with cyberware. Medical equipment Mitsuhama Shogun E X T R A Anything else? NPC’s Maryna Yuriyivna Popova - His young Russian nurse. (Prostitute smuggled into the city, no cyber, 18, in love with Tao, tall) Ramira Morissa Hopkins Mendoza - Receptionist/business manager. Runs the desk and Tao, hides money away to keep Tao from gambling. Keeps the building up and the fridge stocked. Zi Ping - heavy cyber. Handles cyber harvesting and disposal, As well as security. | H I s t o r y Tao was raised in the life of luxury in Neo-Tokyo. The best schools teachers, tutors, and servants to raise him. His parents to busy in their own lives to pay much attention to him. The one place he found acceptance and reward was in academics. When he did well his parents noticed him. He still prefers books to datapads and will tend to have something to read with him. He ended up graduating high school and then college early, going to medical school. He traveled out of Neo-Tokyo to study cyber modifications as an advanced residency. Things were going well for him till he performed surgery on one of the J.F. Leader’s daughters. It was a cybernetic enhancement to her left leg. There was an unnoticed genetic issue that he had not scanned for. With government pressure being applied, his practice tanked. This is when he started gambling trying to make enough money to rebuild. Six months later is when the gang found him. The gang bought his services for the price of his gambling debts. He ended up in a building in Sakoshita that the gang has influence over. His business became late-night don’t ask don’t tell surgeries, replacing damaged limbs, caring for sick prostitutes, gang members, addicts, runaways, and people in trouble. In his clinic, there is a strict no-violence rule. He tries to help get people off the street and into better lives. Tao’s healing powers were discovered as he was practicing the family’s version of Buddism. It is a mix of Tai Chi and different forms of meditation. Healing magic has come easy to him and like all magic, there is a cost associated with it. Normally being tired and hungry after using it. He hopes to find a teacher to help him learn some additional spells at some time. |
King Cosmos
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Posting this early as it's still a work in progress. Will update it with the history later.
Hiroto Chiba
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Hiroto Chiba Nicknames/Aliases: N/A Birth City/District: Sakanoshita District, Neo-Tokyo Age: 21 Height: 7’ 2” Racial Background: Japanese Race: Y.S.G Natural Born Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red sclera with white irises. Appearance: Hiroto is large; not just tall, he is also broad shoulder, wide across the chest and has a naturally muscular build. He tends to slouch and hunch his shoulders, rarely standing at his full height, but due to his stature this does little to bring him down to others level. The tattoos at his neck extend to his upper torso, covering his shoulders, uppers arms, chest and back in similar patterns. The mask that he wears is rarely removed, so as to hide the mutation markers that he would prefer to keep hidden; when does remove it, a small but deep scar can be seen on his jawline. Mutation Marker(s): Hiroto has three mutation markers; his eyes, his height and his lower jaw. The first and second are obvious; his eyes are an unnatural colour, with red sclera instead of white, a white iris and no visible pupils. His unusually large height and large build are also most like due to his Yokai Genes as well, considering that his parents were both relatively short. The final mutation is less obvious, as he keeps it hidden beneath the mask that he always wears; his lower jaw is covered in a bone-like exoskeleton, giving him a skull like visage. Personality: Softly spoken and even softer in the way he treads, Hiroto is the textbook definition of a gentle giant. He is a man of simple needs and simple pleasures, someone who prefers to enjoy a quiet existence and who will never find that with Kurosagi, yet finds that he cannot pull away from them so long as they will be putting themselves in danger without him there to try and protect them. Big-hearted, he cares about others, sympathises with people more than he should and proves himself an oddity in the city by being willing to help anyone he meets in any way that he can. He’s been bitten by this behaviour more than once, yet continues to do so anyway; he is not naïve, he knows the risks, but he is always going to give people the benefit of the doubt. Hiroto doesn’t like hurting people, which makes him ill-suited as a gang member, but also isn’t the type to stand by while others are being harmed, being victimised, being oppressed, or putting themselves in harm’s way. He finds himself hurting people regardless and always feels guilty afterwards. If he can help it, it will always be him who is the one getting hurt and not others; he can take it, a sturdy body like his has to be good for something. Aspirations: - What Hiroto wants is a quiet life. One where he doesn’t need to look over his shoulder, one where he doesn’t have to fight for every scrap, one where he doesn’t have to worry about the safety of his friends. He fights for that kind of life. - More than a quiet life for himself, he wants everyone else to get what they want so that they can stop fighting. Fears: - Losing his friends - Becoming a killer - An endless cycle of violence Vehicle: Not everyone needs a vehicle in Neo-Tokyo, but most that are in gangs or in social circles will typically have a vehicle as an extension of themselves. Because Neo-Tokyo does have a very confusing and jumbled street system as the city expanded faster then it could plan, those who can afford it, will typically take to the Hoverzones above the cities streets. Most vehicles will typically be a hybrid of hover and standard road types and all will run on YoFuel, or a synthetic fuel made from the bodies of Yokai. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities:
Weaknesses/Flaws:
Y.S.G Ability: Base Ability: Armour To enhance his toughness even further, Hiroto is able to cover his body in a sturdy, bone-like exoskeleton similar to the mutation marker that naturally covers his lower jaw. This armour is tough to break and capable of blocking most mundane forms of damage, but is not unbreakable. It is also heavy, further reducing his mobility even more than normal, but can be discarded just as easily as it was summoned once it has served its purpose; weakening and crumbling away from his body once he stops using this ability. The armour can be created to cover his entire body or just a part of it, depending on the situation. First Awakening: Invincibility Hiroto can, for a few brief seconds at a time, make his body completely immune to harm. There is no visible sign that manifests when he is using this ability, which makes it hard to tell when or if he is using it other than the fact that he takes no damage. This ability on affects his body and does not extend to the armour he creates nor the clothing he is wearing or any items he is holding. Using it drains a lot of his stamina and it cannot be used too often in succession; furthermore the duration of its effect seems to be consistent, but Hiroto has not quite gotten the timing of it down, meaning he is reluctant to rely on it too much in fights unless he has no other choice. He fears using the ability too early or too late and getting himself hurt because of it. Second Awakening: Giant -Locked- Soul Binder/Weapon(s): Kanabō - A large wooden club covered in vicious spikes. It is heavy, carrying a noticeable weight to it even when Hiroto is the one swinging it around. When it manifests it forms from the hilt downwards, starting in his hand before the spiralling yellow script that cover it spreads out like growing vines and the weapon forms inside of it. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: None; though some people sometimes mistake the exoskeleton on his jaw for some kind of implant, Hiroto has no cybernetics to speak of. | H i s t o r y Hiroto was fourteen years old when his parents died. They worked at a gambling den, one of the many establishments in the Sakanoshita district where people could risk their money on games of chance and try to profit from their poor life choices; his father was a bouncer, there to deal with any troublesome elements, while his mother was a Chō-han dealer, throwing the dice that decided men’s fate. It was good, dishonest work; hardly the worst thing people could do to earn a living and not even that dangerous. They earned enough to afford a place to live, a small and dingy apartment in the district, along with food and other necessities; they weren’t rich but they had a roof over their head and weren’t starving. It was good enough. Better than most. Until a patron at the gambling den lost everything they had, accused his mother of cheating the dice and drew a hidden gun; his father took the first bullet. His mother the second. No one thought to tell Hiroto what had happened. His parents just didn’t come home one day and he didn’t know way, until he went to the gambling den to look for them and found out himself. Once his parents’ landlord found out, he was evicted from his home without a second though, without a chance to try and make the rent by himself. The landlord already had another family lined up to move in; a more reliable source of income than a newly orphaned teenager. He had no choice but to leave. He went back to the gambling den, the only other place he could think of, but they turned him away. Violently. His father’s fellow bouncers threw him out themselves. Even at that young age Hiroto’s Y.S.G. meant he was over six feet tall and looked a lot older than he really was. He was big and strong and that meant most people assumed he could take care of himself; he could not, but he at least looked intimidating enough that most people were willing to leave him alone at first. That fact was enough to keep him safe for a while, managing to get by through begging and the rare bot of kindness from locals; a bit of food or water here, a few coins there. Hiroto still remembers the people who helped him the most back then and tries to pay them back whatever way he can. For eight months he survived alone on the street, doing his best to avoid any run-ins with the local gangs and the criminal elements that were so common in the Sakanoshita district, but he couldn’t avoid them forever. Someone like him, someone large and powerful even if the past year had taken its toll on him, was a tempting target for the type of people who liked to prove and flaunt their strength over others. The gangs caught up with him eventually, but rather than be his end like he expected, it might have been the thing that kept him alive. It started with a few gang members who were looking to have some fun by beating up homeless people; even young and scared as he was, Hiroto couldn’t stand by and just let that happen. He intervened and though they were older and more numerous and armed, his size and his Y.S.G. traits were enough to let him win against a bunch of thugs. He was marked after that; his presence known, his description spread around. Either due to wounded pride or just to prove that they could beat him where the others couldn’t, the gangs came after him in force. For a month they hounded him, hunted him; he couldn’t stay on the streets to beg, couldn’t risk going to those friendly locals for help. The gangs were starving him out. Hiroto kept fighting, he kept winning, it almost seemed like a daily occurrence with each victory only spurring them on, until finally the boss of one of the gangs found him. Unlike the others he was another Y.S.G. holder like Hiroto; someone that an untrained, desperate teenager couldn’t beat. As he lay there, bleeding and beaten for the first time in his life, he thought he was going to die. Instead they dragged him back to their base, gave him something to eat and ‘recruited him’. He couldn’t exactly say no, not with nowhere else to go, not when he knew what kind of life awaited him if they went back to hunting him. For almost three years he was a member of that gang; fighting people, mugging people, hurting people. Never killing people, for what it was worth; not that it made much of a difference when the people he was with did the killing instead. In return he had a place to live, regular meals, clothes that actually fit. All it cost him were sleeping nights and an endless weight on his conscience. Every time he ended the day with blood on his knuckled he told himself he’d leave when he was able to, when he had enough money stashed away to make a new start or was strong enough to survive deserting the gang. That day never seemed to come. In the end, the situation ended up solving itself in a way. The district was abuzz with word of the new mechanic shop/bar that had just opened up, or more specifically about its owner; there were all kinds of rumours about the mysterious woman who owned it and who or what she used to be. The leader of the gang got it into his head that she must be rich, hiding a bunch of money or something valuable in the bar itself somewhere. He wanted them to go and take it. Hiroto wasn’t on that job himself, which was probably the only thing that saved his life. He doesn’t know exactly what happened to the ones who did go, only that he never saw them again and the strange owner of the bar came looking for him and gave him a choice. Join her, or join them. That wasn’t much of a choice. |
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Fading Memory The Final Flame of a Fiery Bird
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3 days ago
Butterfly || Fury of the Road
The Crimson Queen
____________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N
Name:
???
Nicknames/Aliases:
Butterfly, Crimson Queen
Birth City/District:
Unknown
Age:
23
Height:
5'3"
Racial Background:
Full Blooded Japanese
Race:
Zero Percenter || Pureblood Human
Hair Color:
Black
Eye Color:
Variable
Butterfly is a deeply damaged individual. Her life has been a series of tragedies. Her world has been shaken down to its very foundations. She's had to fight and kill with her own hands where other people from her background would never even have to look at someone who was dying unless it was by choice. She's had to eat out of garbage, she's had to sleep with people for payment, she's had to learn to cope with loss and come to terms with solitude and abandonment.
She's a rough woman.
She doesn't make friends easy; alliances and partners come quick, but genuine trust takes work. Betrayal has scarred her mind, and she sees demons in shadows and assassins in smiles. She is violent on principles, but not recklessly so; her always-changing-eyes seem to take in the whole world and not miss a detail, and she is exceedingly patient in her observations and study. But when the time for action comes, she is brutal in her efficiency and terrifying to witness.
She is a thrill seeker beneath this cautionary exterior. She craves sensation and adrenaline. She is a consistent chemical abuser, trying new drugs and drinks and medicines just to get whatever brief kicks she can- the NanoHive the only reason she isn't some worthless junkie. Her mindset has been heavily warped, however, by these abuses and the NanoHive; she cares extremely little for her own wellbeing, and almost sees her own life as just another tool in her quest for revenge. She's not suicidal, but self harm and death are things she's already reconciled herself with if it means achieving her goals.
Even deeper down she's a deeply scared individual who struggles with meaningful connections and relationships. A life of hiding in the shadows and putting her life on the line has made her day to day operations a striking pragmatism, but her grand scheme goals and movements are the fine tuned orchestral masterpieces that one would expect from a corporate daimyo.
If you earn her friendship, she'll die for you. If you earn her wrath, she'll see your whole family buried.
Justice
-Not everything in the world goes right, and she can't right every wrong, but deep down she has a righteous streak.
Susanoo - The Wrath of Heaven - The Relic of a Bygone Era
This bike is two hundred years old. Only one hundred were ever built. Only a handful remain. The Wrath of Heaven model of the Suzuki corporation was, for its time, cutting edge hybrid motorized technology. Its design was a work of art; its mechanisms were revolutionary; its speed was legendary...
It was undrivable. Designed from the ground up to be intended for Yokai Gene use, no normal human being was ever intended to wield t his motorcycle- but as it turns out, its design was so overtuned that even the superhuman qualities of the Yokai Gene Mutations struggled to keep up with the AI clocked machinery. It's a bike that somehow survived time to end up in the hands of someone who can finally handle it; Butterfly and her NanoHive.
To call Susanoo an extension of Butterfly would be to put it lightly; the NanoHive has fully interfaced with the motorcycle's onboard computer and given the woman a truly unique control over a motorcycle that had a reputation for killing its riders.
Modern bikes have adapted and implemented the revolutionary technologies of the Wrath of Heaven, having shackled and restrained the design into a manageable machine. No motorcycle since its inception, however, has ever quite matched the speeds and maneuverability offered by Suzuki's failed crowning jewel.
???
Nomura Tomoe
Nicknames/Aliases:
Butterfly, Crimson Queen
Birth City/District:
Unknown
Maebaru; The Nomura Group Spire
Age:
23
Height:
5'3"
Racial Background:
Full Blooded Japanese
Race:
Zero Percenter || Pureblood Human
Hair Color:
Black
Eye Color:
Variable
Her diminutive stature belies the physical prowess contained within her body. Whilst the manicured features of a genetically curated upbringing are present still- the slender frame, the long legs, the sculpted bone structure- they have been roughly worn at and hewn away to give Butterfly the intense visage she has earned on the streets. If she cleans herself up and scrubs off the layers of grease, oil, smoke, and grime that accumulates in the areas she lives she could be a very conventionally attractive woman; this is not the life she lives, however, and whatever traditional societal beauty she may possess is buried beneath the rugged and street-earned styles and frame that she has developed.
Softness-by-design has been replaced with firm steel and strong muscle. Hair that may have once flowed like silk is now thick and heavy with smoke and oil. A body, flawless from scarring due to her NanoHive's reconstructions, that hides its lethality in whipcoil relaxation.
Softness-by-design has been replaced with firm steel and strong muscle. Hair that may have once flowed like silk is now thick and heavy with smoke and oil. A body, flawless from scarring due to her NanoHive's reconstructions, that hides its lethality in whipcoil relaxation.
There's only three rules down here. Go fast, hit hard, and live to see tomorrow.
Butterfly is a deeply damaged individual. Her life has been a series of tragedies. Her world has been shaken down to its very foundations. She's had to fight and kill with her own hands where other people from her background would never even have to look at someone who was dying unless it was by choice. She's had to eat out of garbage, she's had to sleep with people for payment, she's had to learn to cope with loss and come to terms with solitude and abandonment.
She's a rough woman.
She doesn't make friends easy; alliances and partners come quick, but genuine trust takes work. Betrayal has scarred her mind, and she sees demons in shadows and assassins in smiles. She is violent on principles, but not recklessly so; her always-changing-eyes seem to take in the whole world and not miss a detail, and she is exceedingly patient in her observations and study. But when the time for action comes, she is brutal in her efficiency and terrifying to witness.
She is a thrill seeker beneath this cautionary exterior. She craves sensation and adrenaline. She is a consistent chemical abuser, trying new drugs and drinks and medicines just to get whatever brief kicks she can- the NanoHive the only reason she isn't some worthless junkie. Her mindset has been heavily warped, however, by these abuses and the NanoHive; she cares extremely little for her own wellbeing, and almost sees her own life as just another tool in her quest for revenge. She's not suicidal, but self harm and death are things she's already reconciled herself with if it means achieving her goals.
Even deeper down she's a deeply scared individual who struggles with meaningful connections and relationships. A life of hiding in the shadows and putting her life on the line has made her day to day operations a striking pragmatism, but her grand scheme goals and movements are the fine tuned orchestral masterpieces that one would expect from a corporate daimyo.
If you earn her friendship, she'll die for you. If you earn her wrath, she'll see your whole family buried.
Vengeance
-Those who have wronged her shall suffer and burnSurvival
-At all costs, she must live to see tomorrow. Surviving the next ten minutes matters more than anything else, save achieving her vengeance.Security
-Beneath it all, she wants to have a place she feels safe and secure. People she can trust. Somewhere she can sleep soundly.Justice
-Not everything in the world goes right, and she can't right every wrong, but deep down she has a righteous streak.
The Nomura Group Remnants
-These individuals of this research group are the only ones with knowledge of her existence and the NanoHive that she knows of. They could theoretically shut it down if they captured her, as such they are her number one enemies and the greatest threat to her existence.The Yokai
-Lacking in Yokai Genes, she has been forced to face a world that is slowly evolving her out of its system. She can handle YG's. She can conceptualize YSG's. The Yokai themselves? Part of her craves a straight up fight against a demon; part of her fears their potential, power, and what their existence means for the world.Paraplegia
-In a more mundane sense, due to her high octane and high speed life, fate reducing her to wheelchair reliance or other forms of paralysis are a humbling and chilling private fear. Whilst the NanoHive remains active she will never need face it- but there exists the possibility of temporarily being rendered paralyzed even with its technological might supporting her.Susanoo - The Wrath of Heaven - The Relic of a Bygone Era
With a divine form
We have captured sweet heaven
Speed will be unleashed
This bike is two hundred years old. Only one hundred were ever built. Only a handful remain. The Wrath of Heaven model of the Suzuki corporation was, for its time, cutting edge hybrid motorized technology. Its design was a work of art; its mechanisms were revolutionary; its speed was legendary...
It was undrivable. Designed from the ground up to be intended for Yokai Gene use, no normal human being was ever intended to wield t his motorcycle- but as it turns out, its design was so overtuned that even the superhuman qualities of the Yokai Gene Mutations struggled to keep up with the AI clocked machinery. It's a bike that somehow survived time to end up in the hands of someone who can finally handle it; Butterfly and her NanoHive.
To call Susanoo an extension of Butterfly would be to put it lightly; the NanoHive has fully interfaced with the motorcycle's onboard computer and given the woman a truly unique control over a motorcycle that had a reputation for killing its riders.
Modern bikes have adapted and implemented the revolutionary technologies of the Wrath of Heaven, having shackled and restrained the design into a manageable machine. No motorcycle since its inception, however, has ever quite matched the speeds and maneuverability offered by Suzuki's failed crowning jewel.
This bike is possessed. We tried to make a steed to carry our new world into a brighter future; instead what we have made is fitting for the horsemen of the apocalypse.
P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N
Strengths/Natural Abilities:
Scrappy Lady - Butterfly is exceptionally tough, even before the addition of her cybernetics and NanoHive. Losing everything only to find herself only able to stand on her own two feet has instilled her with an exceptionally powerful will and determination. This is, undoubtedly, the single most powerful characteristic of her personality and personage; Butterfly does not stay down.
School of Hard Knocks - The upbringing of her youth has been overshadowed by a sudden necessity of street life survival and enslavement into death battle arenas. Butterfly may have a measure of raw intelligence and higher education knowledge beneath the surface, but Life has beaten into her the soul of the streets and the observational skills of a street rat who's always had to fight above her weight class. In short words; she has an eye for detail and a gut that could predict the lottery.
The Crimson Queen - Trained by one of history's greatest warriors, whose legend is only partially imprinted upon her, and forged in the fires of enslavement to death battles and a life of catastrophe, Butterfly earned the moniker 'Crimson Queen' for A) Surviving, B) Winning, and C) Doing both with a brutality that is downright terrifying. Butterfly fights hard, fights dirty, and most importantly she fights extremely well.
Weaknesses/Flaws:
Technological Reliance - Due to her unique physiological circumstances and bodily functions, if her NanoHive was somehow shutdown she would suffer immense long term drawbacks. Her immune system is practically nonexistent, her cybernetics would degrade and lose their unique enhanced qualities, and her body's suppressed addictions to the chemical substances she abuses would arise. The NanoHive is self-repairing and incredibly potent, but not entirely insurmountable; temporary shutdowns and potential whole-sale stripping of its benefits are possible.
Bleeding Edge - Butterfly sometimes just wants to feel something. She's got a thrill in her heart for chasing new highs, facing risks, generating adrenaline, and otherwise pushing her pseudo-immortality to its limits.
Absolute Zero || The Last of the Nomura Clan - There are those who hunt her. They are unyielding in this task. Should Butterfly's true identity become widespread or whispered to the wrong person, all hell could break loose. Additionally, if she were to ever somehow become 'infected' (from her point of view) with Yokai Genes, the result would be utterly catastrophic.
Cybernetics/Gadgets/Accessories:
Scrappy Lady - Butterfly is exceptionally tough, even before the addition of her cybernetics and NanoHive. Losing everything only to find herself only able to stand on her own two feet has instilled her with an exceptionally powerful will and determination. This is, undoubtedly, the single most powerful characteristic of her personality and personage; Butterfly does not stay down.
School of Hard Knocks - The upbringing of her youth has been overshadowed by a sudden necessity of street life survival and enslavement into death battle arenas. Butterfly may have a measure of raw intelligence and higher education knowledge beneath the surface, but Life has beaten into her the soul of the streets and the observational skills of a street rat who's always had to fight above her weight class. In short words; she has an eye for detail and a gut that could predict the lottery.
The Crimson Queen - Trained by one of history's greatest warriors, whose legend is only partially imprinted upon her, and forged in the fires of enslavement to death battles and a life of catastrophe, Butterfly earned the moniker 'Crimson Queen' for A) Surviving, B) Winning, and C) Doing both with a brutality that is downright terrifying. Butterfly fights hard, fights dirty, and most importantly she fights extremely well.
Weaknesses/Flaws:
Technological Reliance - Due to her unique physiological circumstances and bodily functions, if her NanoHive was somehow shutdown she would suffer immense long term drawbacks. Her immune system is practically nonexistent, her cybernetics would degrade and lose their unique enhanced qualities, and her body's suppressed addictions to the chemical substances she abuses would arise. The NanoHive is self-repairing and incredibly potent, but not entirely insurmountable; temporary shutdowns and potential whole-sale stripping of its benefits are possible.
Bleeding Edge - Butterfly sometimes just wants to feel something. She's got a thrill in her heart for chasing new highs, facing risks, generating adrenaline, and otherwise pushing her pseudo-immortality to its limits.
Absolute Zero || The Last of the Nomura Clan - There are those who hunt her. They are unyielding in this task. Should Butterfly's true identity become widespread or whispered to the wrong person, all hell could break loose. Additionally, if she were to ever somehow become 'infected' (from her point of view) with Yokai Genes, the result would be utterly catastrophic.
Cybernetics/Gadgets/Accessories:
The ultimate in prototype technology and the Magnum Opus of the Nomura Group.
the NanoHive inside Butterfly's body was installed shortly after birth in a last ditch effort to give the Zero Percenter a chance in this new world order. Lacking in Yokai Genes of any variety, the Nomura Group took drastic measures to advance their research and give Butterfly a glimmer of hope for the future. Butterfly's body is home to countless Nanomachines, and is capable of perpetually recycling, reconstructing, and repurposing the machines as needed within herself.
Using her body's natural electrical impulses and skimming off her dietary and biological systems for nutrients, raw materials, and energy, the NanoHive has wholly integrated itself into her life functions. It regulates metabolism, brain wave stability, cardiac rhythm, it balances alcohol and chemical levels, it fine tunes and specializes the immune system, it regulates dietary needs- her entire body is run by a combination of her DNA and these microscopic machines. Her recovery from surgery or cybernetic implantation is astounding, as the Nanomachines immediately adapt and repurpose the new systems into her biological functions in the seamless network that is Butterfly's body.
There are limitless benefits to this that are mundane and subtle. Perhaps the most overt and dizzying of her perks, however, is the Reconstruction Capability of the NanoHive;
The Nanomachines are capable of repairing almost all damage to her person. Cuts, bruises, shattered bones, all heal alarmingly quickly for Butterfly. Her skin grafts itself back together visibly with the spark of electricity visible- then it's as if the wound was never there. Her track record isn't perfect; her heart has stopped a handful of times only for the clever little machines to kickstart it forcefully and yank Butterfly back to life.
She's not truly immortal, but it would take severe bodily destruction to render her truly dead- but there is something lost each time the NanoHive has to restructure her brain. Some aspect of her personality and mentality that cannot be fully reconstructed when the brain's electrical signals stop.
In short, she's a ticking time bomb of psychological damage and personality drift. If she doesn't accomplish her goals before one too many bullets hits her brain, she may become someone else entirely- or worse.
the NanoHive inside Butterfly's body was installed shortly after birth in a last ditch effort to give the Zero Percenter a chance in this new world order. Lacking in Yokai Genes of any variety, the Nomura Group took drastic measures to advance their research and give Butterfly a glimmer of hope for the future. Butterfly's body is home to countless Nanomachines, and is capable of perpetually recycling, reconstructing, and repurposing the machines as needed within herself.
Using her body's natural electrical impulses and skimming off her dietary and biological systems for nutrients, raw materials, and energy, the NanoHive has wholly integrated itself into her life functions. It regulates metabolism, brain wave stability, cardiac rhythm, it balances alcohol and chemical levels, it fine tunes and specializes the immune system, it regulates dietary needs- her entire body is run by a combination of her DNA and these microscopic machines. Her recovery from surgery or cybernetic implantation is astounding, as the Nanomachines immediately adapt and repurpose the new systems into her biological functions in the seamless network that is Butterfly's body.
There are limitless benefits to this that are mundane and subtle. Perhaps the most overt and dizzying of her perks, however, is the Reconstruction Capability of the NanoHive;
The Nanomachines are capable of repairing almost all damage to her person. Cuts, bruises, shattered bones, all heal alarmingly quickly for Butterfly. Her skin grafts itself back together visibly with the spark of electricity visible- then it's as if the wound was never there. Her track record isn't perfect; her heart has stopped a handful of times only for the clever little machines to kickstart it forcefully and yank Butterfly back to life.
She's not truly immortal, but it would take severe bodily destruction to render her truly dead- but there is something lost each time the NanoHive has to restructure her brain. Some aspect of her personality and mentality that cannot be fully reconstructed when the brain's electrical signals stop.
In short, she's a ticking time bomb of psychological damage and personality drift. If she doesn't accomplish her goals before one too many bullets hits her brain, she may become someone else entirely- or worse.
Installed after birth with the NanoHive, Butterfly is a unique experiment for this prototype technology. Her entire nervous, skeletal, and muscular systems have been surgically interconnected by a complex framework of wired networks. Without the NanoHive, this would have resulted in an excruciating childhood, where growth spurts and weight changes would have lead to repeated and ceaseless surgeries to adjust the wiring; for Butterfly, the NanoHive made these adjustments naturally as part of her growth processes.
This means that Butterfly's reactions have been fine tuned to a razor's edge since childhood, with a unique twenty three year adjustment period to the otherwise jumpy and twitchy appearance that comes with this cybernetic system. Her movements are seamless and fluid, and her reaction speed is dialed up to superhuman speeds.
The only noticeable enhancement offered by the NanoHive is the comfort and seamless integration of this system with her other enhancements.
This means that Butterfly's reactions have been fine tuned to a razor's edge since childhood, with a unique twenty three year adjustment period to the otherwise jumpy and twitchy appearance that comes with this cybernetic system. Her movements are seamless and fluid, and her reaction speed is dialed up to superhuman speeds.
The only noticeable enhancement offered by the NanoHive is the comfort and seamless integration of this system with her other enhancements.
These cybernetic legs [Knee-down only, her body thigh-up is full flesh and blood] are, by appearances, retrofit scrap equipment seemingly cobbled together in a junkyard. That is because that is exactly where they were built. Blocky limbs, filled with rough-hewn electronics and battle-reinforced jackhammer design, that can unfold to reveal a twin set of high power air jets. To be succinct, these are battle-ready air-skates. There are modernized and more sleek variants of this design available, but the ones worn by Butterfly are heavy duty tools of battle capable of withstanding immense blows and dealing devastating punishment as sheer blunt instruments.
The propulsion generated by these is capable of sending Butterfly's lithe frame soaring through the air in great leaps when used in sudden bursts, or with prolonged activation immensely increasing her movement agility and speed by allowing her to skim across the ground on air bursts.
NanoHive - the NanoHive has granted her Skimmers two improvements; her scrapheap designed legs are superior in speed and propulsion to even the newest private models, and the NanoHive has allowed her to generate incredible heat in her propulsion system and expel it outwards in an eruption of flame; basically a micro-explosion of fire launched from her feet in a jet-esque fashion.
These enable her to perform truly daring and seemingly impossible turns, brakes, and stunts with her motorcycle.
The propulsion generated by these is capable of sending Butterfly's lithe frame soaring through the air in great leaps when used in sudden bursts, or with prolonged activation immensely increasing her movement agility and speed by allowing her to skim across the ground on air bursts.
NanoHive - the NanoHive has granted her Skimmers two improvements; her scrapheap designed legs are superior in speed and propulsion to even the newest private models, and the NanoHive has allowed her to generate incredible heat in her propulsion system and expel it outwards in an eruption of flame; basically a micro-explosion of fire launched from her feet in a jet-esque fashion.
These enable her to perform truly daring and seemingly impossible turns, brakes, and stunts with her motorcycle.
These high end Cybernetic Eyes would be a dead giveaway that this girl comes from rich blood, if anyone could ever separate them from her skull and live to tell the tale. These eyes are the pinnacle of replacement vision enhancement; indistinguishable at a glance from a normal eye save for the customizable iris, these eyes are filled to the brim with sensor suites and visual input devices. Wide spectrums of visual data and vision enhancements are built into these things, and Butterfly can quite literally see it all; Thermographic, low light enhancement, flare protection, ultraviolet, electromagnetic, ultrasound, Magnetic Detection...
If you're packing a pistol, have a cybernetic leg, and have a few goons hiding around the corner, it's quite possible she can see all of these things barring interference.
These eyes are also exceptionally well tuned to work in tandem with any 'smart' devices, such as technologically superior firearms or cybernetically enhanced armarments. The NanoHive's interconnectivity only further epitomizes this.
NanoHive - A strange quirk that the evolving nanomachines within her have built onto these high end cybernetic eyes is a wireless synchronization; by being tied to the NanoHive's processes, her visual spectrum could be shared by those willing to tie their devices to her personal network. In lay terms; if people hook their goggles up to her, they can see what she sees.
she usually cycles the iris across a spectrum of neon glows and patterns, just for style.
If you're packing a pistol, have a cybernetic leg, and have a few goons hiding around the corner, it's quite possible she can see all of these things barring interference.
These eyes are also exceptionally well tuned to work in tandem with any 'smart' devices, such as technologically superior firearms or cybernetically enhanced armarments. The NanoHive's interconnectivity only further epitomizes this.
NanoHive - A strange quirk that the evolving nanomachines within her have built onto these high end cybernetic eyes is a wireless synchronization; by being tied to the NanoHive's processes, her visual spectrum could be shared by those willing to tie their devices to her personal network. In lay terms; if people hook their goggles up to her, they can see what she sees.
she usually cycles the iris across a spectrum of neon glows and patterns, just for style.
Some Vibes
The life of Butterfly began in the gutter. Dragged onto blood slicked streets, kicking and screaming, she was pushed into the sidecar of a motorcycle and handed a spear.
"Kill or be killed, kid." A gruff voice pressed itself against her cheek wetly, the roughness of a lick pasting the phrase against her jawline. "You taste like fear."
Blood flashed across a blade. Screams filled the air. The roar of engines. The roll of thunder. Her world ran red, hazy with smog and industrial fumes. The neon titan of Neo-Tokyo monolithic against the skyline, dominating the horizon, a tyrant observing the blood sport happening under the afterglow of night time life-light.
"Watch the blade, not the hand with the blade." His words flowed through her mind, tempering fear and turning adrenaline into a razor edged surgical tool.
"Your reflexes are fast, but so too are death's. Never forsake caution."
"Keep your blade clean. You do not want it sticking mid slice."
"You are never outnumbered; Let your spirit drown their confidence, crush their morale, make them forget their friends."
"Let your mind carve the battle like the river carves the earth. No step falls where you do not dictate."
Each of her master's lessons was a flash of blood, a muzzle flash, the screech of tires on pavement, the neon flash of electricity and the scent of burning ozone. Each lesson carving the young girl into a young woman, then finally into the one the streets came to know as Crimson Queen.
Freedom. It came to her suddenly, leaving her feeling like the beach as the tide fades away. No longer crushed under its weight and caught in its tide, but empty and forever changed by what had happened to it. Crimson Queen took her first deep breath in what felt like two lifetimes. She turned her gaze upwards, taking in the entirety of Neo-Tokyo from the ruins of the outskirts city.
She made her hand into the semblance of a gun. She pointed it at the top of the city.
"Bang." She whispered.
A new set of allies appeared in her life. She found herself with people worth fighting alongside. She found herself with the possibility of allies in her vengeance. The city had to burn, but it was a plan that would take time. For now, this new gang that she stumbled into would serve as safety. For now, it would serve as home.
"Kill or be killed, kid." A gruff voice pressed itself against her cheek wetly, the roughness of a lick pasting the phrase against her jawline. "You taste like fear."
Blood flashed across a blade. Screams filled the air. The roar of engines. The roll of thunder. Her world ran red, hazy with smog and industrial fumes. The neon titan of Neo-Tokyo monolithic against the skyline, dominating the horizon, a tyrant observing the blood sport happening under the afterglow of night time life-light.
"Watch the blade, not the hand with the blade." His words flowed through her mind, tempering fear and turning adrenaline into a razor edged surgical tool.
"Your reflexes are fast, but so too are death's. Never forsake caution."
"Keep your blade clean. You do not want it sticking mid slice."
"You are never outnumbered; Let your spirit drown their confidence, crush their morale, make them forget their friends."
"Let your mind carve the battle like the river carves the earth. No step falls where you do not dictate."
Each of her master's lessons was a flash of blood, a muzzle flash, the screech of tires on pavement, the neon flash of electricity and the scent of burning ozone. Each lesson carving the young girl into a young woman, then finally into the one the streets came to know as Crimson Queen.
Freedom. It came to her suddenly, leaving her feeling like the beach as the tide fades away. No longer crushed under its weight and caught in its tide, but empty and forever changed by what had happened to it. Crimson Queen took her first deep breath in what felt like two lifetimes. She turned her gaze upwards, taking in the entirety of Neo-Tokyo from the ruins of the outskirts city.
She made her hand into the semblance of a gun. She pointed it at the top of the city.
"Bang." She whispered.
A new set of allies appeared in her life. She found herself with people worth fighting alongside. She found herself with the possibility of allies in her vengeance. The city had to burn, but it was a plan that would take time. For now, this new gang that she stumbled into would serve as safety. For now, it would serve as home.
Shingen
Two hundred years. Gazing upon the man, one would not estimate two centuries' weight upon his shoulders. Greying hair, average stature, impressive build; by cautious guesswork, he wouldn't be a day over fifty five.
Two hundred years. Four generations worth of service to the Nomura Clan. Shingen was tired...
But the work was never over. There was always a new threat. Always a new danger. More whispers in the dark that required his attention; more veiled knives to be brought to light; more contentious throats that needed slitting...
More Nomura being born. Today was an auspicious day; the Nomura clan had been dwindling. His work, though tireless, and his name, though feared, were not infallible. The mighty clan of ancient wealth had been reduced to what stood in this very room;
The Father, head of the Nomura Group, subsidiary of the Suzuki Corporation, a dedicated cybernetics research division. The Mother, officially the chief executive officer of the company and the deciding vote of the board of directors. And now Tomoe. A young girl, taking after her father even as an infant. Shingen let out a shallow breath. The weight of a fifth generation settling itself on his shoulders.
The words reached his mind before they ever left the doctor's lips; his telepathic web was covering this medical wing in totality.
"There's a problem."
Shingen felt a strange sensation when those words filled the air. His eyes shifted, taking in the babe held in suspensor as the myriad scanners of the medical office prodded and studied her. It was a sensation of coolness, stillness, the feeling of anticipation anxiety tickling down his nerves. Those words; that child; two hundred years.
It was the feeling of renewed purpose.
"What do you mean, a problem?" The Father's voice was like ice, flattening any mumbling discussions in the room. The doctor was forced to be direct.
"She has no Yokai Genes. None whatsoever."
Shingen's shoulders sagged briefly under the weight of this new purpose. The girl's browline was so much like her father's. Her hands held the same slenderness as her mother's. She would grow well. Mentally checking himself, his shoulders rose back up to support this new burden. It wasn't time to rest yet. Work was just getting harder.
"None." The Father repeated.
"None." The Mother whispered, already sitting up from the operating table slowly as nurses assisted her. She had a hand over her abdomen, the scar of her caesarian already fading into a dull line. "None." The word was soured now, the woman's eyes filling briefly with scorn as she gazed at the suspended child.
"None." The Father said stronger. "The world will be hard for her."
"We should just-"
"Silence." He cut the woman off, the bitterness in her voice silenced by his iced tones. "This is an opportunity. I will not have a life wasted, especially not that of our own child. We have the means to profit from this still. It will not be the end of the Nomura. This girl may be just what we needed to secure our legacy."
"Tomoe." Shingen said, his whisper-tone cutting through the talk like the threat of death. His voice carried despite its softness, implanting itself in the minds of those he wished to hear him. "After your grandmother, lord. She was a powerful woman."
"It is a good name." The Father said.
"She was a bitch." The Mother said.
He watched as Tomoe moved. Her movements were clumsy, but advanced. She had all the struggles of other toddlers, but a jerkiness to her that was unnatural and maneuverability that revealed her enhanced self. He observed her now, as she bumbled along at a run, but twirled out of the way of an oncoming ball with the elegance of a ballet mistress, only to stumble on the dismount and scramble across the play area on all fours before regaining her footing.
The wires assist, and she is growing well. She will need to learn to trust them fully. he thought, his fingers falling to the control pad and making minute adjustments to the program. The drones began to move faster, the difficulty of the program was elevated, and the threat level enhanced.
Tomoe was laughing now. Shingen wondered how long that laughter would remain in his memory. The anthropomorphic drones of the playpen leapt into action, moving faster and more smoothly than before.
"Remember Tomoe. One touch and you're out." Shingen called out to the girl. She only laughed louder. "One touch and you're dead."
At first she was able to keep smiling, the wires in her system keeping her awkward movements stabilized and keeping her balanced. She was quick on her feet even as a child, and as she maneuvered around the play area she made a show of taking a long meandering path; weaving through monkey bars, sliding through a tunnel, leaping over a rocking horse, clambering around a spinning wheel- and all the drones did was circle her, spread out, and take up various positions in the room.
Her smile stopped with the first throw. It was not a gentle toss as they had been before. The ball came hurtling at her head with speed, her eyes widening fractionally as the wires kicked in and sent her into a tumbling roll then forcing her to her feet. Her eyes were shut tight in the brief grips of fear, but her ears heard the bouncing 'thud' of the ball against the far wall. Unawares to herself, the NanoHive within her also detected the whistle of another incoming ball through the air-
The wires kicked in again, throwing her body flat to the ground and into a dizzying roll. Her eyes opened back up and she found herself nested against the side of the play tunnel, briefly shielded from that angle of attack.
"Closed eyes means you don't see the death coming." Shingen called. "Always face danger with eyes open."
He watched as the drones moved in a wide rotating circle, taking up various positions around the play area and adapting to a new angle of attack. He could feel Tomoe's fear in his mind. Feel her thoughts racing. Feel the childishness of her petty betrayed feelings, then the anger at being challenged like this. He clicked his tongue quietly.
She'll need to learn to temper those. Quickly.
Shingen remained taut and aware, watching as Tomoe picked herself up off the ground and briefly rubbed her elbow. A flash of pain in her face. Tears welled up briefly and she sniffled.
"Death does not wait for booboos to heal." Shingen called. A drone hurled its ball experimentally against the tube, causing Tomoe to jump as its bouncing thud echoed through to her. Briefly revealed over the tube, another ball came hurtling towards her- and once again her body twisted awkwardly and avoided the blow in the air. However, as she came falling down onto a knee a pair of the drones came wide around the room to her back.
Thud. Thud. Two solid throws in a spread to her side. One caught her on the knee, one on the shoulder, and sent her sprawling awkwardly in a roll. There was a snap- Shingen heard it in his mind rather than out loud. It was a snap that seemed to fill Tomoe's entire mind. Then tears. Pain. Her knee.
Shingen deactivated the drones and crossed the room in swift strides, kneeling down at her side as he gingerly rolled her and lifted her into one arm. He looked down at her leg, bent out of angle from the awkward blow to her knee.
"Broken. But not for long, Kemushi. Watch. It is okay, watch. Do not weep for yourself." He softly whispered the words into her ear as he held her head up. Her whimpers softened, then quieted, then stopped; her leg faintly glowed from within, the spark of electricity through her blood and along her bones, as the NanoHive was already at work. Bone adjusted. Set. Repaired. Muscle knit. Nerves reconnected. It took a matter of minutes, but to Tomoe it felt like time had stopped.
"There you are, Kemushi. You died, but you are well. Let me tell you of fear." He began, setting her upon her feet. "You did well, except for the fear. Fear is a natural thing. We should feel it. We should embrace it. Fear keeps us safe, it is instinct, but there is also a weakness of the consciousness within it. We fear things we should not. We fall into fear and let it control us."
Tomoe was looking up at him, wide eyed and wondrous. Memorizing his words.
"We must never let it control us. We must never face that obliteration of the mind. Fear is a tool; wield it, guide it, control it, but never succumb to it. It is there to warn and help you. Do not let it grow unshackled."
"Will Father be home tonight? How long will Mother be gone?"
These questions are harder than matters of death! Shingen thought with mirth.
"No, and uncertain. They are doing extremely important business. Business for your sake, Kemushi. For all our sake."
"Is it because I don't have the...Mumu?"
"Partly. And say it properly; Mutation. Try it again."
"Mu..ta...Mutay...Mumu." She said stubbornly.
"Mu-Tay-Shi-On." Shingen gently urged.
"Mu-Tay-Shi-On." She parroted dutifully.
"A bit, but that is not the sole reason. You have something inside you that is so much more than any yokai power, or genetic enhancement." He reached out and gently prodded her chest, over her heart, with a finger.
"The Nano." She said with a nod.
"No!" He laughed that whispery laugh. "The device is there to aid you, but do not let it define you! I do not permit my power to define me, Miss Tomoe, nor should you let that tool define you. What I mean is your spirit. Your life. Many in this day and age lose sight of what it means to be alive. Never forget that it is your heart that beats. Your mind that thinks. Your consciousness that perceives. If you keep hold of yourself, then nobody will ever have any true power over you."
She nodded dutifully.
His eyes opened. It was one thirty two. There were four additional people in the premises that should not be there. Two were located outside, scaling the spire. One was in the elevator; two dead bodies with her. A severed hand held to a biometric palm scanner. The last was above. The roof.
He sat up slowly. He swiveled to the side and rose to his feet.
The elevator; Tomoe's room is near there. The rooftop is there to pursue if evacuation is needed. Two scaling the spire would be delayed by the master bedroom's defensive suite.
As consciousness pushed through sleep, as adrenaline filled his limbs, his Telepathic Network expanded. The elevator was nearly there. He moved swiftly, delicately hitting the alarm beside his bed as he checked his pistol. He frowned slightly; the alarm was disconnected. Nesting that information away, he strode out of his room and into the common area of the spire. He turned and faced the elevator calmly-
And disappeared from sight. When next he appeared, it was as the elevator door opened; his pistol held to the head of the woman within. Before she could think she was dead, the quieted gunshot of his pistol resolving this problem with haste.
The Telepathic Network expanded. Shingen felt more minds. More threats. It was not four; it was a dozen. Two dozen. His eyes widened, he felt the chill of Purpose elevate the weight off his shoulders. There was a hovercraft maneuvering around the spire, heavily armed and armored soldiers. The power was selectively cut. There would be no alarms. There would be no reinforcements; the Nomura Loyalists in the lower floors would already be in combat or dead.
He lowered the pistol and fired twice more before the woman's hand could grip his ankle. Her mind had flared back to life in that instant. Shingen looked down at her, her head now a bloodied mess, before holding out his free hand above her still body; Shadows swirled into his palm, black as obsidian, and formed into the subtle form of a tanto. Even as the woman's flesh began to knit itself back together, Shingen raised her head and slit her throat twice over with the Soul Binder. Each cut nearly decapitating her and slicing through to her spine.
"...Shogun troops." He whispered aloud.
Shingen's body felt younger than it had in over a century. Youth and vigor flowed into him from a past life. If these fools wished to test their mettle against The Phantom then he would sign their death certificates. It would finally be time to rest!-
Tomoe came out of her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
No! No time to rest! his mind recoiled. Foolish dreams of rest! Damn this sense of purpose! Damn this pride!
Shingen was at her side in the whisper of a breath, sweeping her up into his arms as the Soul Binder faded into nothingness.
"Shin?" She mumbled, a girl of eight by now, mostly asleep.
"Death comes, Kemushi." He whispers. "We must go."
She swayed into his shoulders, holding herself tightly against him as he carried her into the elevator.
"You will scare away the Death." She whispered. "Like you always do. Even the J.F fears The Phantom..."
As the elevator began its long descent, Shingen gripped the child. He had nine more shots in the current clip, then another spare. There were limited stores of Miko Shot, but the armory would've been one of the first places hit by these commando squads. That meant it was Soul Binder work. Personal work.
The J.F. may fear the Phantom, but they'll still send three death squads and feel confident. he thought to himself. Soon his thoughts reached upwards; following his Telepathic Network back to the Spire Habitations. The Father was still alive; The Mother had fallen, but not before her lightning had taken two with her. The Father was standing in a firing squad and wondering...
Forgive me, lord. I could not save everyone. The Nomura Line continues with Tomoe. he consoled himself as much as the mental presence of The Father- before it, too, was snuffed out.
"Your parents are dead, Kemushi." Her eyes widened at his words. Sleep wearing itself thin at last. "It is just us now. It will be just us. These are Shogun Soldiers, coming to exterminate us. We will have to hide. Run. Kill. Do you think you can handle that? Did I train you well enough to understand these things?"
She nodded slowly, and when she spoke Shingen already knew the answer;
"Yes, Sensei. I understand."
"Good. Today will require bloodshed to survive. Stay quiet. Do as I do."
Nomura Tomoe || Kemushi
Six years. Six years of running. Six years of training. Six years under the tutelage of The Phantom. Six years of watching the rebuilding of the Nomura Group from the shadows. Six years of watching Shingen grow old. Six long years. So long they made the first eight feel like the blink of an eye.
The fourteen year old girl carried a katana across her hip, the long skirt she wore concealing a tanto in its shift and a pistol on her thigh. She moved like a mouse, deft and silent as she scaled the pipe. Concrete and steel surrounded her, and above she saw the aging form of Shingen still moving as if his bones did not hurt in the cold. She grit her teeth, her hair bound back in a thick ponytail and matted to her back, and set herself to doubling her pace.
Stay silent. Stay swift. Move like the shadows. Strike when fear is rising. Be the crescendo. she repeated her lessons in her mind, scaling ever higher. Fatigue filled her limbs, but the sight of Shingen pressing on filled her with determination. And so onwards she climbed, forever in his shadow. She was climbing for so long that she had almost forgotten where it was they were going...
A light flashed from above. Voices called. Shingen disappeared. She was alone. As she gazed upwards, she saw the bolt of lightning arcing down along the pipe towards her. Nowhere to go.
ZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTT
She jerked awake, sitting up immediately. Static filled the air around her. Her breath was labored, she was sweating in her sleep, and she felt the dull ache of hunger. Her eyes adjusted immediately; a neighboring hotel's viewfinder had disconnected and was blaring static through the wall.
She climbed to her feet, pulling the worn leather jacket that Shingen had found for her over her chilled shoulders. It was too big, but he had said that she would grow into it and that it would suit her. She cherished it, quietly, though she knew that he knew.
Growing up with a teacher who can read minds and turn invisible is a strange feeling. she allowed herself to think, privately.
"And raising a girl like you has been enlightening." Shingen's voice called from the living room. Tomoe allowed herself a smile as she made her way towards his voice- but she paused. Her wires tense and her body trusting their impulses. She asked her senses what the threat was, and in the trained method instilled by Shingen she detected the tripwire across the doorframe. She adjusted her gait and stepped past it.
"Good. A harmless test." The voice came accompanied by a cough, hastening Tomoe's ambulations. She stepped to the elder man and offered a comforting hand to his shoulder. He pushed it away with a wrinkled, but still strong, hand of his own. She settled for a kiss, then; leaning down to kiss his cheek in a chaste way, the girl made her way past him.
The years had not been kind to Shingen. Two centuries of relying on Nomura Group funds and medical research to maintain his youth had been an investment The Phantom had repaid one hundredfold; losing that access had resulted in his age progressing forward as if the sands of time were constantly wearing down the hourglass and pouring ever faster.
"Harmless indeed; each test I fail is a meal I miss, sensei."
"Was it the Nano who noticed or you today?" His voice, whispery as always, was growing quieter every year. Before she could even speak he nodded and continued; "Ah, the Nano today. Comfort is a luxury, Kemushi, be thankful the machines never relax. It is a boon you have that nobody else can appreciate."
I paid dearly for it She thought bitterly to herself as she popped open the top of a sealed soy-ramen container, and set it to cook.
"Indeed you did. Never forget that, but do not let it shackle you. You must live unabashedly and unreservedly in the here and now, so that you may have a future. The Nomura Group will not stop chasing us." The Elderly assassin brought a cloth to his mouth and coughed into it again. "I will die, Miss Tomoe."
That brought the girl to a second of tenseness; her muscles coiling and tightening at the thought, before her trained relaxation set back in.
The whip is most dangerous when at rest. she repeated the lesson. The whip is the weapon least prepared for. Be the whip.
Shingen's lessons soothed her and gave her focus, gave her tools to control her emotions and see the world clearly; And what he said there was truth. She could not run from it nor deny it. He had only a year or two left, at most, if his slowing and weakening body did not betray him before then.
"...Yes, Sensei." She measured her words carefully, taking the time for her meal to heat up to look at her own reflection. She was dirty, her eyes a soft neon purple today, and bags were heavy beneath her eyes. Despite the lack of sleep, she was alert and ready for the day. "I...I understand. I will be alone soon."
"Alone, perhaps, but not without allies. Word has reached me through old channels. Forgotten methods of communication. There is one I know who could make use of someone like you. One I know who could be of use to you. I have trained you for our revenge, Kemushi, but it is not attainable alone. If it were, I would have placed all their heads at your feet six years ago. Instead, I had to train you and you had to help me. Never forget the fear that filled Takagashi's eyes as my blade came out the dark. You must learn to be that fear, learn to move as I do without the same tools I have, if you are to succeed."
She carefully lifted the heated package into her hands and scooped out a mouthful of noodles with her chopsticks. She shut her eyes as the processed flavors filled her mouth, and allowed herself the joy of filling her belly as Shingen spoke. Finally, she licked her lips, and turned to face her master.
"I will never forget how he wept before you took his life, Sensei. Begging the shadows for it to end quickly. I may never be what you are, but I will never stop practicing your teachings." She discarded the empty food container, stepped forward, and bowed deeply to the venerable man.
"Cease this sentiment; I do not need this." Despite his demeanor, she knew he was filled with the strange blend of affection and guilt over her life and that her words were appreciated. She rose up and brushed a hand against her skirt idly, feeling the tanto beneath, before she stepped to the table and strapped her katana over her back and onto her hips.
"Who is this ally I must keep in mind?"
"She used to be called Silver Tengu. I believe that these days she goes by 'One-Eyed Wolf'. I will take you to her before I die, but for now you still need instruction. I'll not have you sloppily representing my legacy."
Her fifteenth birthday is a black day. A day of death, a day shadowed forever in tragedy that struck her deeper than the death of her parents. It was the day she saw Shingen devoured by a Yokai. It was the day she became a Slave. She remembers it in a kaleidoscope of memory fragments. Shingen's elderly features. Another day of thievery and combat training. Another day on the path to revenge.
Then suddenly the world twists. Out here on the outskirts, with little to call upon for protection, a Yokai Outbreak is a lethal event. Especially when a Rank 3 manifests itself in the midst of a gang war. She remembers the flames. She remembers the screams. She still has nightmares of those so very human eyes. The eyes that reminded her of her mother.
She remembers running, the flames scorching at her clothes. She remembers Shingen being at her side, then no longer. She remembers the gunshots. The YG's trying to defend themselves. The way the gangs turned their war against the demon.
The way Shingen killed it. The way his Obsidian Tanto appeared through the fire like a void of light slicing its way through the creature's many arms. She remembers the crossfire riddling him with bullets. She remembers his blade slashing across the creature's throat even as its maw closed around his legs.
The explosion. Then, Shingen was no longer.
She cried that day. For the first time she cried. Tears of pain, sorrow, abandonment, loneliness, love, and anger. Tears that stopped when her Wires pulled at her body- too late, for a bat was brought against the back of her head. By the time she awoke, she knew her life was no longer in her own hands.
When she awoke, it was to the mad cackles of insane men and the roar of engine smoke.
Metamorphosis || Butterfly, The Crimson Queen
Her eyes. So filled with Hope. Gazing up at Butterfly from the passenger car of her battle bike. A young girl. She reminded Butterfly of herself. Five years of death and battle. Five years of chains and torture. Five years of forgetting her own name. Seeing that girl had snapped Butterfly back to reality. Unlocked hidden memories, rejogged lost thoughts. Thoughts of Shingen. Thoughts of youth. Thoughts of how it felt to be that girl.
"I'll protect you, Kemushi. Don't worry."
Why did she have to say it?
The memories flowed through her mind, replaying the last three years over and over again. Almost as if she were repeatedly reminding herself of why she made this decision- almost as if torturing herself with the freshness of it all. Gearbox had crossed the line. He'd crossed it many times- but this time it was a line that Butterfly didn't know she had. A line that was fresh. A new wound, not yet scarred, and feeling the salt.
As she walked, everyone got out of her way. She was walking with purpose. She was walking with an aura of lethal intent. She had a reputation out here in the Broken Lands, in these circles of insanity, and that reputation crackled tangibly in the air around her as she marched to Gearbox's Garage. The Collar around her neck crackled. Buzzed. Pain was there, for sure, but she wasn't paying it any mind. The NanoHive turned off those receptors when it realized she wasn't heeding them anyway.
She had left the Slave perimeter half an hour ago, and was still marching strong despite the waves of pain and drugs being pumped into her by the abominable Collar. The blessing of the NanoHive keeping her body cleansed even as rage fueled her movements.
Her cybernetic leg smashed the garage door in, collapsing its scrapheap construction into the room.
"Gearbox!" She roared. "I've come to claim your bike!"
"Kemushi? What does that mean?"
"It means Caterpillar. My sensei used to call me it. It suits you."
"...Oh, is that why they call you Butterfly?"
"I guess. I guess I started using it when I realized I had to grow up. I won't let them hurt you like they hurt me. I'll teach you to hit them where it hurts and to stay alive. Stick by my side and you'll be alright."
"And how can I trust you?" the girl asserted. "How do I know you won't just slit my throat like they want to?"
"Because you'll be in my sidecar. If I don't trust you, I'll be outnumbered out there. If you don't trust me, you'll die. Deal?"
"Deal."
The behemoth of a man- the king of this junkyard insanity- was Gearbox. Nearly seven feet tall, built like a brick house, he absolutely towered over Butterfly- and yet she did not back down as he approached. The metal of the garage door crumpled under his steps- he wasn't Cybernetic, but the man had carved his kingdom in the Broken Lands as a Shogun. He leaned over her, forcing Butterfly to crane her neck up to keep eye contact, and spoke;
"Finally had enough?"
"I've come..To..Claim..Your..Bike." Her words came as a whisper of iced threats. "You can die here, or you can die on the track. Your choice, Gearbox, but either way I'll get to crush you."
"Butterfly finally has some fire in 'er, eh lads?" He laughed, seemingly disregarding her. "She's handling the Collar well, when was the last time it was checked?" His hand came down and touched the collar, electricity arcing off it wildly and zapping him. His hand recoiled from the pain of it, eyes briefly widening as he stared at Butterfly.
"How the fuck is she still standing? Someone take this bitch back to the pen."
But nobody moved. They all stared at the duo, a tension in the air. Gearbox turned slowly and assessed the room, before chuckling.
"You douchebags think she can actually take me? Really? Little miss 'Zero Percent'? Alright fine, if you dumbasses want to see me kill our favorite plaything then I'll do it." The giant of a man turned back to Butterfly and shoved her back. "Midnight tonight. I'll even be riding Susanoo, just to make this special."
"Good. I'll be ready."
Butterfly turned her back to him and walked back towards the Pen she'd called home for the last five years. Fury, righteousness, and pain searing through her mind as her entire life played through her mind.
She'd allowed herself to be trapped here for too long.
A race. Kemushi in the sidecar, carrying the spear just how Butterfly had taught her. Butterfly's leg skimmers flaring, a flaming kick dislodging a rival bike's front tire and sending the entire crew catapulting out of their ride and through the air. Butterfly pulled her bike into a severe powerslide, crushing one of the downed people under her spinning tires. As the bike came to a halt, she looked to the secondary rider.
He was crawling away, whimpering.
"Kemushi, you have this one. You must learn to take life if you're to survive."
"But he's..He's done, Butterfly, do we have to..?"
"If we show him mercy, imouto, the others will think us weak and we will lose our reputation. Everyone who faces us must die; it is the only way to keep the fear in their hearts. That fear is our greatest tool. You can do this."
Kemushi rose from the sidecar, spear in hand, and warily approached the crawling man. With one last look back at Butterfly, she turned and screamed as she plunged the spear into his heart.
Imouto
Butterfly had named the girl Family. She'd taken her under her wing, shared with her Shingen's teachings, protected her from the same punishments and tortures she'd faced. Three years of a truce between herself and Gearbox. Three years of sharing Gearbox's bed when he had the need, three years of killing for his sport, three years of delayed escapes, all to protect Kemushi.
Three years wasted all because Gearbox couldn't keep his hands to himself. Three years of rage and hatred being absorbed into a singular memory fragment; Kemushi's broken body in their corner of the slave pen. Butterfly had been tasked with a battle royale, solo riders, and upon returning had found Kemushi dead, broken, and the only solace is that she was not alone; her knife had claimed two of Gearbox's men in the effort.
Fight like they're the one's outnumbered. she had told Kemushi, three years ago. It will break their spirit.
It had not broken Gearbox's libido.
Butterfly meditated in silence until the stroke of midnight.
The battle was over quickly, but a whirlwind of action had taken place across the sparse few seconds. Both riders had charged straight at each other; neither wavered in the lethal game of Chicken. Gearbox, atop Susanoo, was an impossible blur of movement as he gunned the relic's engines; Butterfly a mundane blur on her scraphead bike.
He was too slow to escape her eyes, her Wires, and her wrath. Their bikes collided; Gearbox relying on his Ability to harden his flesh like steel to survive the suicidal impact. Butterfly, on the other hand, was relying on his sheer stupidity and insanity to get him killed.
Her Leg Skimmers fired, launching her forward off her bike. A whirlwind of a kick planted her skimmer leg against his forehead; a jet of fire engulfed his skull as it launched him off his bike and into the air. Butterfly elegantly twisted through the air, her Leg-skimmers firing to control her descent and manage her speed, so she landed in a sliding skid.
Gearbox landed in a flaming heap. Susanoo crushed her bike under its reinforced frame, the relic motorcycle spiraling out of control and skidding to a halt against the edge of the arena. Butterfly panted heavily, rage laboring her movements, as she approached the flaming hea-
A flash of light pierced through her side. Gearbox's Soulbinder, a crimson spear, extending from the flaming man's hand and towards her. Blood flashed. She felt her body lifted up by the man's immense strength. Felt herself hurled through the air.
Felt her body break as it slammed into the ground. Felt ribs puncture lungs. Felt her arm break. Felt her neck shatter. Felt the world fade.
Reconstruction Protocol engaged. Damage reported and filed, NanoHive initiated, brainwave pattern imprinted...
Light returned to her eyes. She dared not breathe. The spear was still impaled upon her stomach, but Gearbox was not holding it any longer. She could hear him gloating, the firestench of his flesh filling her nostrils through her own blood. She let herself lie still, her body rebuilding itself on the ground. She had forgotten something...Someone's eyes. Someone important.
But that didn't matter right now. Gearbox had to die.
"You see that boys? Another uppity bitch put in her place. I shouldn't say that I guess- we're egalitarian out here in Gearbox's Playground! Another Uppity THING put back in its BOX. Ain't that right? I'm king out here! ME! GEARBOX! I'M THE KI-"
His voice was cut off. The Crimson Spear tip protruding through the front of his throat. Blood gurgled out of his mouth, steaming against the flames that engulfed him.
Butterfly finally breathed. Crouched behind him, the wound in her stomach slowly closing, electricity glowing beneath her skin. Then, she screamed as her Leg Skimmers propelled her forward at full blast; the Crimson Spear piercing all the way through Gearbox's hardened flesh, impaling the pole through his neck, and with a twisting kick in the air Butterfly arced in a circle around Gearbox and-
Sent his head flying off his body on his own Soul Binder. The cheers stopped. Blood fountained through the air.
Butterfly stood there, gasping for breath, as Gearbox's body tumbled down. Showering her in gore. As the crowd cheered for her- calling her the Crimson Queen- all she could focus on is that she couldn't remember what color Kemushi's eyes were.
She mounted Susanoo and turned her gaze over the horizon. Neo-Tokyo lied that way. Home. Her personal Hell. A place that needed to burn like Gearbox needed to burn. She pulled the helmet on; she'd raided Gearbox's horde for the combat racing suit she was now wearing, her blood-red leather jacket that now fit perfectly worn overtop. She turned her head back to look one last time upon the burning wreckage of the slave pens and the dismantled arena.
She grasped Susanoo's handlebars and revved the engines.
"One-Eyed Wolf." She whispered to herself. "I'll find you."
Spin The Wheel Random Skeleton
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8 mos ago
Alright, here's my sheet. Feel free to tell me if something needs to be changed.
Joseph Arnell | Head Hunter
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Joseph Arnell Nicknames/Aliases: Head Hunter, Joe Birth City/District: San-Washington Age: 35 Racial Background: American/English Race: Y.G Human Height: 6'2 Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Appearance: On missions Joseph typically sports a cybernetic visor and combat armour on his chest. He keeps himself covered up with colours that blend into the urban environment. He generally wears military style clothing even off missions, it's simply what he's used to. It accents his large build and makes him stand out. On casual occassions he wears a simple polo tee and cargo shorts, though he tries to avoid this as others will often make note of the various eyes he has on his arms and neck. He keeps the extraneous eyes closed most of the time, but it's still fairly obvious. His hair is closely cropped and he is clean shaven at all times. Mutation Marker(s): Joseph has eyes in places many don't, mostly on his arms and chest, but he has one on the back of his neck and a third eye in the middle of his forehead. Personality: Joseph is usuallly quiet and calm, but he is far from cold. He will crack jokes with colleagues to ease tension and laugh at theirs while he's at it. He exudes a quiet confidence, and when the things start going bad he gets even calmer. He has many stories to share and makes for a good conversation partner, though he sometimes forgets to check his swearing, a bad habit he picked up in the army. In combat he's simple, efficient, and utterly reliable. Underneath the calmness there is a strong sense of justice, and a passion for righting wrongs. Aspirations: Help out the team, put enough money away to have a nice retirement Fears: Dying Vehicle: Secondhand van, common megacorp mass-produced vehicle. Not particularly fast but insconpicuous and has a large enough storage space without being P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Joseph's eyesight is naturally better than most people. Owing to his many auxillary eyes, he also has an exceptional range of vision and depth perception. He has extensive experience as a marksman and great patience which allows him to sit for hours on end, waiting for just the right moment. His key strength, however, is his ability to maintain his cool in heated situations. Even with bullets flying all around him he has the calmness to take aim and fire the perfect shot. Weaknesses/Flaws: While Joseph keeps himself physically fit, old injuries in his legs make it difficult for him to run quickly. In general he's not much of a fighter in close quarters, as he prefers engagements at maximum weapon range. Weapons:
Cybernetics/Gadgets/Accessories:
Other: Joseph enjoys jazz music on occassion. | H i s t o r y Joseph Arnell was born to a fairly poor family typical of San-Washington's lower class districts. Life was poor but simple, and his parents gave him as much love as they could. They encouraged him to go into law enforcement, as it was a better option than working in the slums. As a natural born Y.G he decided to try enrolling in the J.F military. If he could succeed then he would be able to serve his country, and more importantly, he'd have a decent source of income. After extensive training and many tries, he eventually succeeded in entering the JF military. Joseph wore the uniform proudly and slowly made a name for himself as a marksman, but he wanted to see how far he could go. He was young then, naive and proud. He installed cybernetics to enhance his natural abilities, underwent intense training with other soldiers, took more and more dangerous missions. Eventually he built up enough skill and merit to be one of the lucky few to join the J.F special forces. Unfortunately, Joseph found that the J.F.S.F did not agree with him. For starters, as a cybernetically augmented Y.G as opposed to a Y.S.G, he was looked down on by his colleagues who made his life hellish. But bullying and butting heads was nothing new to him. No, what was truly tasteless was the work. He was assigned to be a part of the J.F.S.F Rebellion Response Force, tasked with supressing the many riots that occurred in the mega-city. The more he worked for the force the more grievances he piled up. He had joined the military to help the other people, but the military was using their power to supress them. He had many arguments with his superiors over this. Sometimes their intervention was justified, but to him, most were not. Things came to a head on one particular mission. After supressing another riot, one headed by a Y.S.G, the team he had worked with stood by the Y.S.G's body as they waited for the cleanup crew to arrive. Unfortunately, the Y.S.G was not as dead as they thought. He lashed out from the floor, catching them off guard and badly wounding Joseph' leg. Joseph fell down but he was ignored as the Y.S.G went for more threatening targets. Taking advantage of this, he swiftly took aim with his rifle and fired several rounds into the back of the Y.S.G's head. The injury he received did not heal correctly and would ensure that he couldn't run with the same speed as he used to. The normal procedure at this point was to get cybernetic replacements but he refused. He had enough of the J.F.S.F, and he formally retired. His bosses didn't like him and he didn't want to stay. It was a surprisingly painless cutoff. At the behest of a friend he decided to move to Neo-Tokyo, for a change of pace. His savings would run out without work so, reluctantly, Joseph took up the rifle once more. He made a name for himself as a bounty hunter with incredible accuracy and more jobs came to him. Unfortunately, there was a limit to what he could do alone so he decided to join a team. He needed more support if he wanted to take on larger contracts. When he looked for teams, however, he was surprised to find a familiar face. The One-Eyed Wolf, a figure he thought he would never see again. They had worked together before, in the brief period between when he joined the special forces and when she retired. And after hearing her out he was more than happy to work with her again. Joseph has shot his rifle for over a decade. For money, for his country, for himself. But now, he finally has something worth shooting for. |
RedDusk Likes cheese and slacking
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3 yrs ago
Alek | The Stranger
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Alek Nicknames/Aliases: Suit, Cleaner, The Russian, Stranger Birth City/District: Moscow-0 Age: 24 Height: 6’2’’ Racial Background: Russian Race: Y.G Holder Hair Color: Blond Eye Color: Pale blue Appearance: At first glance, Alek has the look of a mild-mannered office worker: polite and put together, his smiles measured and his clothing always immaculate. Since his recent change in career path, he ditches the suits and ties for casual attires, more suitable for the streets. These days, it was more common to find him in leather jackets and jeans, nursing a vodka between gloved hands in the middle of a busy Narazaki bar. His looks are fairly remarkable, and Alek knows how to use it to his advantage. His features are sharp and refined, icy blue eyes warm with each easy smile and casual touch. His hair is a fair shade of gold, tastefully untamed and meticulously kept, much like the rest of him. For a cold-blooded killer, Alek definitely does not fit the mold. Mutation Marker(s): Alek’s mutation markers are mostly subtle, but they are all there if one knows where to look. His fingers are tipped with retractable claws, which he often keeps hidden under his gloves. His teeth are unusually sharp, and his jaws strength is inhuman, just enough to tear through even conventional Kelvar. Personality: Alek is the kind of guy you’d like at work. He is professional and proficient at his work, while also being fun and make for good casual conversation. Anything deeper than that, though? Alek does what he does for a reason. Under the veneer, he is cold and callous, a cynic who doesn’t take life quite so seriously. Selfish and opportunistic, Alek is ruthless and dangerous when it comes to getting what he wants. Aspirations: Cheap thrills, good times, and finer things in life. Alek is a simple man, at his core. Fears: Weakness. The weak doesn’t last long in this world. They need to get lucky. Vehicle: A YZF-RAZ0R model. The next generation, cutting edge, top-of-the-line design from Yamaha’s SuperSport range. Comes with an arrays of fun and useful features: overclocked YoFuel dual engine, advanced aerodynamic framework, ballistic body plates, nano-thermal heatsink systems, auxiliary weapon attachments, etc. Basically the works. Popular among high-strung stock brokers, wannabe gangster rich kids and military fetishists. While Alek himself is hardly a speed demon, he needed a vehicle to get around, and this bike was just sitting there in the parking lot at his old workplace. Call it his severance package. The only downside though, is that this beast of a machine guzzles YoFuel like a drunkard on last call. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Alek always has an inhuman grace about him. His strides soft and swift, his strikes quick and deadly, and his reflexes are almost uncanny. Towering heights do not deter him, and he seems to have a knack of almost always landing on his feet. In the concrete jungle of Neo-Tokyo, few can even keep up with him, and it seems like he can only be found when he wants to be. A hunter by trade and a killer by choice, Alek is a lethal and relentless opponent. He probably has done it all, from covert ops to corporate espionage to everything else in between. For the right price, his talents are for sale. He takes pride in his work too, and he simply does not enjoy losing. As a necessity, Alek is familiar with most forms of conventional weapons. While he is most proficient with his own guns and blades, should the need arise, he can still make use of whatever he can get his hands on. Weaknesses/Flaws: Being a relatively newcomer with a bit of infamy attached to his name, Alek is still fairly distrust among the denizens of Neo-Tokyo’s underground. Everything about him still very much screams ‘corpsman’, and it seems that he has no desire to really play nice with anyone either. The termination of his contract with his previous employer did not exactly end amicably. While his old colleagues might not be actively looking for him, Alek is still technically in possession of a great amount of company property, and that could make him a target, wherever their path might cross. It is not easy to trust a man who does not want to be trusted. Weapon(s): A heavy pistol that loads .50 Action Express. Comes equipped with the built in Smart Loading system and custom silencer. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: A subdermal armor implant all over his body. Designed by Keyence to appear fully authentic, while providing moderate protection against most forms of physical trauma. However, the most notable function of this prototype is the ability to activate a form of cloaking that renders the user invisible to the naked eye and most surveillance technologies. This ability requires the use of YoFuel cartridges, however, and extended use is not recommended, due to the limited capacity of the heatsink systems. Another one of Keyence’s prominent design, which is quite popular among paramilitary groups or covert ops agents. The blade is designed to be razor-sharp and extendable from the user’s cybernetics through a complex system of nano filaments. Alek’s piece is located under his dermal armor atop his right hand. E X T R A like blood on the pavement | H i s t o r y Born in the border towns of Moscow-0, Alek’s childhood was one of lessons: lessons in fire and ice, in blood and bullets. He had been beyond the safety of the wall, had seen from a young age what a Yokai could do to a man, and what a man could do in return, with the right tools aimed at the right spot. In his formative years, he ran with the Border Forces in Moscow-0, responding to Yokai threats and scouting the ruined world that mankind left behind beyond the confines of the city. And then Keyence headhunted him for a position in their Moscow branch. The work seemed simple enough. His official job description? A Solution Consultant. The company had problems, and he provided the solutions. The thing was, the problems were people, most of the time. Not that he minded; people or Yokai, they all bled the same. For a while, it felt almost as if he would fight and die for his corporate masters. But here was the truth: even the hand that fed could not be trusted, and Alek had seen it coming a mile away. Hostile takeovers, change in management, a new region manager here and there, and he was considered too much of a security risk to keep around. So he acted first, turning his teeth and claws on his own handlers before breaking off and leaving for Neo-Tokyo. For a time, he ran independent contracts and chase bounties, sold whatever info he had managed to swipe off Keyence’s database before he made his escape. It was during one of these transactions that he met Tsukiyama and became acquainted with her gang, the Kurosagi. Eventually, he came to work under her, the promise of more steady work and better pay seemed far more attractive, now that his savings were running lows and he lacked the connections to get a shot at high profile targets. |
finally finished. let me know if anything needs changing.
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Mai Lan Sasaki | Daiyu
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: MeiLan Sasaki Nicknames/Aliases: Daiyu Birth City/District: Kita-ebisu Age: 23 Racial Background: Chinese/Japanese Race: Y.S.G Awakened Height: 5’11” Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Purple Appearance: Though her style is what most would consider modest, comfy, and practical, underneath those layers of clothes is a rather pale, tall, busty woman with ink black hair. Due to her ability, Mei tends to wear a cybernetic mask that changes the appearance of her face ever so slightly. She only takes it off when she’s with trusted company or purposefully using her powers. If the occasion rises where Mei has to show off more of her body, one can find a long beautiful tattoo of a phoenix starting from her neck and going all the way down to her back. Mutation Marker(s): Under the neon lights they might pass as blue, but Meilan’s first mutation marker are her light purple eyes. Her second mutation marker are a pair of long, black, feathery moth-like antennae on her head that are usually pulled back against her hair. Personality: Mei’s general demeanor is to be rather laid back and care-free. If she’s not being bothered, she will not bother you. Due to her unbringing, she has strong opinions on the rules and traditions (read: she despises them). Her rebellious nature has made her quite stubborn and she is never afraid to speak her mind. Mei also has a tendency to mother those younger than her, leftover from not being able to nurture her own child. Despite her outward countenance though, she has a lot of anxiety over if people actually like her for who she is or if they only like her due to her abilities. Aspirations: -Giving a big middle finger to the system -Enjoy life how she wants to Fears: -Getting close to people -Having no real friends -Her past catching up to her Vehicle: Kawasaki Ninja XXX – A sleek design of the good ole classic. Mei’s not a motorhead and simply needs a decent enough bike to get around. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Given enough time, Mei can sweet talk and charm herself in and out of any situation. From time to time, Mei will advertise herself as an information broker. In the digital age, everyone takes care to make sure their digital profile is unhackable. That’s not a problem for Mei who likes to gather information the ‘old fashioned’ way. Anyone will loosen their tongue after looking at a pretty face and a few drinks. Sword go slash slash. Weaknesses/Flaws: -Mei can be quite selfish. Up until recently she’s had to fight for what she’s wanted or been on her own. If there’s no benefit for her, it’s going to take some convincing to get her to do anything. -When memories start to overwhelm her, one can find Mei at the end of a bottle. There can be weeks where’s she’s more intoxicated than not, especially if it’s around a certain anniversary. Y.S.G Abilities: Bakamono’s Beauty -As long as someone is looking at her face, Meilan has the ability to persuade people to do what she wants. Maintaining eye contact will also strengthen her powers. Requests that are already within someone’s morals and ethics, will be granted immediately while things that are not will take more convincing. If the request is totally out of someone’s conviction, it will not happen and can break said person out of her spell. Obake’s Perfume -For a short amount of time, Meilan can release pheromones that can control anyone who smells it within a 3ft radius. The strength of her command over the people in the radius is proportional to how many people are in it. The more people, the less power she has over an individual. Her pheromone is harder to resist than her gaze. Once the effect wears off on someone, a haze is put over the person’s memory, though they can recover it if they have enough mental fortitude or if seeing Mei jars their memory. This power is quite taxing on Mei and she tries to avoid using it if she can. Also, her power on someone weakens the more times they’ve been under her influence. Soul Binder/Weapon(s): Mudan (Tanto) – Mei’s soulbinder is a small unassuming tanto with a light lavender hilt. When drawn the blade has a purple glow to it. Mei quite enjoys how often people mistake her other swords as her soul binder. She typically keeps this one tucked away underneath her many layers of clothing. Juhua (Katana) and Ren (Wakizashi) – While other favor newer tech, Mei gets around simply with her two swords. Juhua is a long katana with a pale pink hilt while Ren is a shorter wakizashi with a baby blue hilt. If one looks closely enough, the sheaths have been painted over multiple times to cover up what seems to be a very traditional design of a certain well known family. Though they look like customary blades, both swords are forged from the best alloy money can buy on the market. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: InCogTM Mask – Mei will almost always be found wearing a mask on her face to change her facial features slightly so not everyone that meets her is affected by her abilities. Depending on the day, she will change up anything from her eye shape, cheekbones, lip size, etc. E X T R A | H i s t o r y Mei was born into a branch house of a powerful family in Neo-Tokyo. Her life was already setup for her once they knew she was a Y.G holder. This caused her to rebel at a very young age as she hated that she had no say in what she could do. Mei did everything and anything she could to piss her parents off. When she was 16, Mei met Genji while on a bender in Narazaki and fell in love. Genji weaved her tales of a better life if she ran away from her family. Naively, Mei agreed. Leaving her predefined life with nothing but a backpack, the two lovebirds ran away to Sakanoshita. Although life was hard on their own and they struggled to make ends meet, Mei enjoyed it a lot more than living in her strict with her parents. She was even happier when she found out she was pregnant 3 years later. For a time, things seemed to be working out for Mei and her small family. Both her and Genji found steady jobs and were able to provide for their daughter. However, after coming home one day from work, she found her entire neighborhood decimated by a rank 2 outbreak. Mei rushed over to her house, only to find the bodies of her husband and their daughter. Devastated, the event caused her to awaken, though she was in too much shock to realise. For weeks, Mei wandered the slums aimlessly. One day she, quite literally, ran into Tsukiyama, who took pity on her and gave her a new lease on life. |
OwO what's this?
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0-24 hrs ago
Brize Kawara | Cash
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: Brize Kawara Nicknames/Aliases: Cash Birth City/District: Sakanoshita District Age: 22 Height: 5'0" Racial Background: Japanese Race: Y.S.G. Awakened Hair Color: Ash Eye Color: Blue Appearance: Brize's appearance could easily be described in one sentence: a woman larger than her height. Despite standing at a cool 5" with a lithe body, she has a massive amount of presence with every step she takes. Her hair is almost always accessorized with random things found in the bargain bin at a dollar store. Likewise, her clothes are always worn to the point of fraying. Despite dressing like she came out of a dumpster, Brize has an unnatural charisma to her. Every single action of hers exudes confidence. Even when she massively fucks something up, she looks cool doing it. Her eyes are piercing as though they'd spot anything hidden in a contract. Mutation Marker(s): The most notable mutation of Brize are the two horns on the top of her head. Her second mutation isn't easy to see. However, it can easily be felt. Brize's skin radiates an extreme amount of heat. Brize's touch is extremely uncomfortable with the average person only able to last 10 seconds before they let go. Well, either that or 10 seconds before Brize yells at them for getting their sweat on her. Personality: Brize is someone who has gone their own way for too long. She's someone who giveth no shits and taketh no fucks. Despite her intelligence and aptitude for design, she generally plays everything as it goes. Every single plan of hers is ramshackle and subject to change. It would be one thing to say that she goes with the flow, but with her confidence, it's more the flow slamming directly into a wall and bouncing around until it finds a path. Brize rarely gets happy, sad, or mad. Instead, her default emotions are smug, exasperated, and sarcastic. Even if everything is burning around her, she'll still put a cigar in her mouth and finish what she's doing. Aspirations: Fat stacks of cash. Freedom to do anything she god damn wants. A place where all of the children like her could have a home Fears: Poverty - Brize fears going back to the time she had nothing. Meeting her mother - Brize doesn't know what'll happen if she ever meets her mother again. She's deathly afraid of it, though. Vehicle: Kawasaki ZX-HVR Lite Custom - Originally designed during the infancy of consumer hover technology, the ZX-HVR Lite Custom is a relic of the past. While its original purpose low-cost street racer meant to be the bottom of their lineup, the bike quickly gained a fan base due to the forward thinking (read: inefficient unless modded) design of the bike. Its compatibility with most parts, its tuning capability, and the fact that it could run on even the dirtiest YoFuel turned the bike into the premier choice for people who wanted a project bike. While its initial run was fairly short as bike manufacturers quickly managed to improve on their hover technology, the bike managed to capture the hearts of bike enthusiasts everywhere for just how custom they could make their Lite Custom. Though, its more common to find the bike in piles of trash than on the streets these days. The capabilities of the bike for its time weren't stellar. Its road capabilities are great, but its hovering technology is severely lacking. Its only capable of sustained hover for 30 minutes before the required safety measures force it back on the ground. Brize's vehicle has had every safety feature removed. Her hovering has been extended to an unknown amount of time. The only indicator that the bike is going to explode from heat is Brize's ass beginning to roast. The top ground speed of 250 KM/H has been... underestimated. While her speedometer doesn't work, she probably can run it at about 500 KM/H before the thing rattles apart. The bike has been well used. Not exactly well loved, judging by all of the dents and scratches. People who inspect the bike often say that it's a miracle the thing can run at all. Perhaps its the bike fearing its rider will destroy it if it gives out. Perhaps it's dumb luck. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Visualization - Brize can accurately visualize massive designs in her head. This helps for navigation, her ability, and building random things. Digital Wizard - Brize can rapidly analyze data and traverse networks with extreme ease. While she isn't an urban legend-tier hacker, network administrators are always bewildered that they have an untraceable request for a bunch of junk data. Y.S.G Enhanced - Like every Y.S.G holder, Brize has enhanced everything. However, she doesn't exactly specialize in any single aspect. Fearless - Despite feeling every ounce of pain, Brize can't help but going all out at all times. She has zero chill. Weaknesses/Flaws: Value-based - Brize assigns everyone a value based on how useful they are to her. The fact this is well known is enough to cause friction. She even tells people their current value if they ask. Crash-Tested - High speed chases aren't exactly Brize's strong suit. While she's not a bad driver, her lack of self-preservation ends up being more of a hindrance than benefit. As it turns out, she can't make that jump or fit that gap, but she's going to try anyways. Cash - Cash is the core of Brize's ideals. If someone offers her $50 to do something that risks life and limb, she'd probably do it. Of course, she doesn't take any bet she can't win. She has the foresight to choose the option she thinks gets the most money, at least. Glutton - Her properties as a space heater chews through her calories. Brize needs a lot of food to stay satiated. She also gets tired faster than other people. Y.S.G Ability(ies): Base Ability: Printing Brize has the ability to transmute objects. As long as she can visualize the object and has similar enough materials, she can create an unstable facsimile. This facsimile works exactly the same as the original object. However, there are definite limitations to this process. The larger and more complex, the more time she needs. Additionally, it becomes more and more unstable. Something like a bullet would last for a few hours before falling apart. A computer would break down as soon as she creates it. The stability also relates to the base materials. If she transmutes a hunk of iron to a fork, it would last for months or even years. If she transmutes iron dust to a fork, it would only last for a few hours. Awakened Ability: ??? Soul Binder/Weapon(s): Kongō - A 4ft jō seemingly made out of old Japanese cedar. Despite being a Soul Binder, it has no discernible qualities to its appearance except for looking like a nice rod of dark brown wood. Its main feat is its durability which Brize has tested on numerous occasions. To this day, nothing has even caused the rod to even slightly bend. Kongō also seems to disperse the force of what strikes it. Brize knows this because she tried to stop a truck by standing in front of it. She wasn't hurt, but she was pushed around for a solid 2 minutes before the driver noticed. Its summon and desummon is heralded by an explosion of dust and smoke. While this only lasts 5 seconds before dispersing, it gives Brize a quick moment to scuttle out or scuttle in. Bluntlow Arms Defender Mini - A 9mm pistol designed for the concerned citizen, the Defender Mini is an 8 shot pistol that fits into any purse or pocket. While it feels like it's made from the shoddiest 3d printer and comes pre-dirtied and dented, it's cheap enough to find in garbage cans. Funnily enough, that's where Brize found it... Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: Origa Industries LayerMaxx - A neurolink deck unusable by the majority of the population. Using layered data and mental displays, the LayerMaxx creates a sandbox environment to access the net. However, for the vast majority of people, the information received is often a garbled and useless mess. However, Brize's mind seems perfectly suited for using it. If something bad to happen, the LayerMaxx will instantly shut down and leave Brize with mild discomfort and massive dizziness. Hammer-Jack - A "unique" cyberpick of Brize's design. It's a hammer with a microcomputer and terminals on it. Using her LayerMaxx, she can slam the claw-end into certain parts of machinery to allow her to directly hack something like a biometric door. Alternatively, she can use the hammer end to break off the door knob. Either works. E X T R A Anything else? She smokes cigars solely because it has had a noticeable effect on negotiations. She doesn't like the things, but hey, a benefit's a benefit. Theme Song | H i s t o r y The Sakanoshita District is no place for a child. However, as is the nature of the world, countless children hide between the bars and brothels as they wait for their parents to come home. Brize was one of these children. Trapped in the walls of an apartment too small for even a child, Brize would wait for her mother to come home. Brize's mother wasn't nice. No, the district had long taken away her soul. Despite that, Brize waited every single day with nothing but her imagination. She dreamed of her father to take Brize and her mother to a better place. She dreamed of the neon words and figures she could only see if she stood on her tip-toes. She dreamed of how the cars worked. She dreamed of the lives of the voices she heard through the walls. That mythological figure appeared one day. He promised Brize's mother a better life for her child. Of course, her mother would be compensated. She did raise Brize all this time. And so the figure took Brize to the dark room. Brize didn't like the dark room. She didn't like the room one bit! It was even smaller than her old home! Not only that, there was a cuff around her arm at all times. Even if she tried, she couldn't move. Brize hated it there. She was always hungry and tired. No matter what she thought of, she could never get her mind off the dark room. Brize wanted to leave, but nobody would let her. All she got was yelled at! So Brize thought to take things into her own hands. She listened to the steps. They changed in pitch as the men walked outside. They went up, they went down. Brize's mind slowly made a map of the sounds. Soon, those sounds were given form. Cold damp concrete. Broken pipes. The rattle of other rooms. The echo of cries from deep within. The young Brize knew she had to escape. She had nothing. The cuff around her arm had a small slot, but she had nothing to put inside. Despite this, she kept on trying. She tried every chance she got. Her nails cracked and ripped. Still, she didn't give up. Every moment, she tried to get it off. Her body warmed. Was this a fever? It lasted for days. She didn't feel any worse. She just needed anything to fit into the cuff. Anything. Anything. Anything. A small spike made of dust. She had it. It was in her hand. How long was it in her hand? She didn't know. She dug around the cuff until it snapped open. She was out. She could reach the door. There was another lock. It didn't matter, she just did the same thing. The dust changed size and shape until the door finally opened. She knew each step. She knew each hallway. So Brize walked out of the building. Not a soul saw her. She was free. She could dream about the neon again. Of course, her story didn't end there. Brize was on her own. She scrounged in trash, sold what she could find, and worked any job that came her way. There was always work in Sakanoshita. She cleaned vents that only a child could fit into. She gave tissues advertising clubs with XXX signs. She bought and sold assets. She invested in herself. She took on jobs to deal with data networks and create programs. Soon, she had a sizeable amount. But that wasn't enough. No matter how much she earned, she always wanted more. Throughout her years working and taking care of herself, she realized something important. There was always money in crime. Of course, there was even more money in toppling the current system. Eventually, she was noticed by Tsukiyama and her gang of merry men. They needed someone in-house to maintain their network, after all. It helped that her aptitude with money also led to her being a bookkeeper of sorts. Plus, she cleans the bar on the weekends. Their interests aligned and Brize joined her gang thinking of it of a long-term investment. |
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Kiyomizu Hondai | Unagi
 ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name: 本体 Hondai, Kiyomizu 清水 Nicknames/Aliases: Unagi | Kiyo Birth City/District: Heita District Age: 27 Height: 175 cm Racial Background: Half Chinese, Half Japanese Race: Y.S.G Awakened Hair Color: White Eye Color: Dark brown Appearance: At first glance everything about Kiyomizu is...rather unremarkable. Her hair is constantly pulled into a high ponytail, her clothes are run of the mill business attire, and she never needs for or wants to glamorize herself with make up or polish. Which in her line of work serves as its own form of crypsis, allowing to come and go as she pleases. Not to say she's completely unremarkable. Her height puts her well above the average height of most women in the Sakanoshita District, modified or not. Paired with her eye-patch, which sticks out like a sore thumb, makes others second guess their approach. Mutation Marker(s): While her Mutation Markers are visible, they are well cloaked. Her first mutation consists of three rows of gills on both sides of her throat. Normally the segmentation would be visibly seen by anyone looking, but she has a thin operculum covering her gill arches and gill rachis. The thin plating is the same skin tone as the rest of her body, but with a slight bulge not normally noticed unless you were touching her skin or staring at her neck. Being tall adds to the perception of how much larger than she actually is. The second mutation marker is less conspicuous. Dorsal fins line the backs of her legs, spine, and arms from top to bottom. Both anterior and posterior fins are about 3 inches in length from her skins surface. Most of the time they are folded over and covered by her clothing which is why she wears loose fitting suits. Luckily, they’re translucent as to not garner too much more attention than needed. Personality: Kiyomizu is a hard women, in all senses of the term. Hard to meet, hard to understand, but mostly hard to get to know. She doesn’t steer too much outside of the realm of her work and what her next priority is. This can come off as her being dull or a victim of being a slave to her work, but she finds neither is true. What’s hard for her is finding anyone worth having a conversation with that goes beyond pleasantries. Someone to respect her rather than fear her. Perhaps her own perception of herself has been skewed and reinforced the thought of needing to harden her emotions to the point she had no real outward expression besides irritation and disappointment. Contrary to her electric bite gained from being a YSG, her tone is direct and monotone, not changing for any form of hesitation internally or external. If there is one thing that can soften the edges it’s alcohol and a pack of freshly smacked cigarettes. Aspirations: A simple life. Proper channels for orphans. Unpolluted waters. Fears: Fear of drowning. Fear of an unfulfilled life. Vehicle: Nissan Skyline 2000GT-R. What’s more futuristic than going back to the basics? This model is a reinvented spin on the classic 2000GT-R released in 1972, a whole two centuries ago. The model isn’t exactly a 1:1 remake since driving down a highway is no longer streamlined with all the technology. Instead, it borrows bits and pieces from the original model and puts a spin on them in this new model. Yeah, it’s a bit bulkier than the original model, but what it lacks in flair it makes up for in speed and durability. I mean what 20th century cars were made to ram blockades and deflect bullets? And while motobikes are all the craze just about anywhere you go, Kiyomizu was never a huge fan of being on a bike. To her it felt like being a fish out of water and you were more exposed to danger than in anything else, but it did prove to win out in escapes and high-speed chases. Kiyomizu was an old school kind of gal anyways, whether it was picked up from her father or just the overall feeling of being behind the wheel. She’s stripped the inside of anything A.I. or future technology minus a screen in the center panel. Otherwise, it’s fully manual, has nitrous capabilities, and can speed up to just shy of 240 mph. All she’s missing are some fuzzy dice. P O W E R / C Y B E R N E T I C S I N F O R M A T I O N Strengths/Natural Abilities: Linguist: If translator pieces are on the fritz, you can rely on Kiyomizu to successfully navigate any conversation with a native speaker fluently. Marital Arts & Weapon Expert: Kiyomizu has been trained classically in many Japanese and Chinese schools of martial arts, ranging from Wing chun to Kyūdō. While she's only an expert in the use of a pistol an no other firearm, she is an expert in traditional weapons. Most notably nunchaku and bō staves. Y.S.G Enhanced: Like others, Kiyomizu was bestowed the gift of being naturally enhanced in all areas. Sensor: Given the nature of her mutation, she excels at detection through the use of sensory detection via electromagnetic impulses. Weaknesses/Flaws: Tech Support: Anything too technical or too new for Kiyomizu is too much for her to wrap her mind around. She has never had to rely on a computer or any technology to save her life or that of others. Her old fashioned mindset has led her to excel in other aspects of her life, but remain stagnant in others. Any tech stuff she leaves to others. Insulators: Kiyomizu's Y.S.G abilities don't particularly work well or effectively when paired against insulators or being able to pierce through ground. Overheating: Also due to her mutation, Unagi can not tolerate temperature that are too hot. Lone Fish: Due to her years of living a completely self reliant life style with only having to work alone, Unagi has developed the unhealthy habit of being overconfident in her abilities when faced with a team setting. She rather work on something on her own regardless if the help of others would facilitate the mission. Y.S.G Ability(ies): Unagi is just that, an eel. Well, technically not a true eel, but an eel, nonetheless. With this mutation she has been opened to a secondary world, that of the sea. Not only do her gills and fins help her become a dominant swimmer and predator in the water, but it also helps her navigate the surface world. Her anatomy allows her a few things: first she can use her gills as a secondary breathing mechanic in case her mouth is ever covered. Second, she’s gained new organs (main, Hunter’s, and Sach’s) to help create the electricity needed to use her abilities. This allows her to generate two types of voltage, high and low. Low voltage is what permits her to excel in sensory detection, much like her aquatic counterpart, she can send out multiple small pulses of electromagnetic energy. Comparable to a bat’s echolocation, once she gets a hit, she can pinpoint the precise location of whom she’s tracking and, in some cases, stop their escape through domination of their nervous system. This works more efficiently in water but works well on land. High voltage is where her offensive abilities come into play. Once her brain sends a signal to her nervous system, Unagi lights up like a Christmas tree. Electric currents are generated all throughout her body and she can channel them into a concentrated area like her fists or encase herself with the energy like a shell. Soul Binder/Weapon(s): Tsurizao (釣り竿/Fishing Rod) Unagi's go to weapon is a blend of two very beloved weapons she's grown up with, the nunchaku and bō. Not being able to choose between one she chose both. The primary form of the weapon is a black metallic rod made to be able to conduct the electricity from Unagi into the rod itself. She carries it on her person, specifically on the waist of her back. The rod itself is only about 15 cm long, until she decides to extend it into its full 1.8 meter height. Not only can she extend it but she can also retract the staff and separate it into two, forming a nunchaku through a chain within the center of the staff. It has no discernible abilities outside of the ones listed. Cybernetics/Gadets/Accessories: None, too new school. E X T R A Anything else? (Un)Surprisingly does not like the taste of eel. Has nothing under her eye-patch. Probably should have some type of lung cancer by now. Theme | H i s t o r y Where to even begin. Rather than have her head in the clouds, most of the time Kiyo had her head in the tank. A fish tank to be precise and not one of those dainty looking ones you get from a pet store than end up breaking on you after a month. No, instead it was one of those giant tanks that line an entire building, you know, an aquarium. Although there weren’t many or rather no aquariums at all in the Heita district, just crime and debauchery. When you grow up with it you get used to it and the fear of being a victim slowly starts to ween off you like a child fresh off the breastmilk of their mother. Before we can get to the aquariums some background on Kiyo is rather necessary. Kiyo grew up in the Heita district, how she ended up there? She had no clue, but she didn’t really have a clue about a lot of things. It begun with not knowing who her mother was or where she was or if she was still alive. These were questions that originally popped into her head, but later dissuaded herself from asking, because her father was more than enough, and she trusted that he withheld that information for a reason. What she did know of her mother was by extension of her father. She knew she was Chinese, she was beautiful, and she taught her dad half of everything he knows. Despite all this she never had a photo or a single record of her to confirm what he told her or if she even existed. Well, she kind of had to if Kiyo had been brought into the world. Another thing she didn’t know was what her father did for work, he was just as secretive if not more when it came to that. There were occasions when seedy men showed up at the house and times where she had to play a fun game of hide and seek while he had guests over, yet no one seemed to ever want to find her. And while he provided them with everything, they could need she knew he wasn’t rich enough to move them to any district outside of Heita. Some people may call her blind faith in her father stupidity or ignorance, but she found it to be love. That love was returned in the form of education. Since she couldn’t go to school, he taught her what he knew or rather what he thought was best for her to know. Of course, he started off with the basics like addition and subtraction, how to read and write, even some of the history of the world. Once the basics were over, he introduced her to extra curriculars, which consisted of martial arts training, learning foreign languages, and even drinking ice cold beers. This went on for some odd number of years. In spite of that not everything was so ‘adult’ when it came to her teachings, he still treated her like a child. He showed her his favorite hobbies, bought her toys and candy, and even got her a goldfish. That was the catalyst for her love of fish. Her father even began to teach himself about fish just to appease the voracious appetite of his daughters wishes. She wasn’t sure what it was about fish that drew her attention, maybe it was because they were never caged or rather the ocean never ended for them no matter how far they swam. Maybe it was their freedom or maybe it was just how adaptive they can be no matter how bad and filthy their habitat was. Regardless, they drew Kiyo in more and more until she was attached. Unfortunately like most goldfish, hers died. It was a devastating blow to an adolescent child, but that was her first experience with loss whether she recognized it or not. Fortunately for her, her father was able to sneak her out of the district to bring her to her first ever aquarium. The sheer size and quality blew her away, she didn’t know how he managed to scrounge up the extra cash nor how he got her there, but she was in love. Her face was pressed up against the glass so tight she could see the condensation forming on the glass from her hot breath. Eventually she had to be pulled away to return home, but he made it a point to bring her once a month. And so, once a month it was practically her birthday, more so because she never really got much for her birthday or any subsequent holidays. And while her life had finally found some excitement it had other plans for her father. That time of the month came once again and they set out for the aquarium, except something was off. Her father kept turning around to look behind him every few minutes, he tried to play a running game with her, but she was getting too old at this point to humor his games. As she always did, she trusted her father would do what was best for them. They made it to the aquarium and looked around as always, hell they were even recognizable regulars by the patrons. This month they had added a new exhibit, once with a pool of electric eels. She walked off on her own to view the new exhibit while her father remained at the shark tank as he always did. She was lost in the wriggling bodies of the eels until she heard a scream and then a few loud pops. The aquarium irrupted into mayhem. Confused she tried looking for her father in a sea of people trying to make their way to the emergency exists. That’s when she saw her father making his way toward her, yet there was something different about him, something she hadn’t recognized before. Fear. This new expression was followed by red ooze slipping out of his mouth, no it was blood. He kept shouting something at her, but with the sound muffled from the cacophonous shouting she couldn’t make way of what he was saying. When she finally read his lips saying ”run” she had already been picked up by the same men she remembered seeing all those years ago. Before she could fight back, she was quickly drugged and slipped into a stream of unconsciousness. She woke up every now and then seeing men in surgical masks and surgical tools on a tray as they stared at her just as she had stared at the fish earlier that day. Drugs began to wear off and she could feel pain course through her body. She woke up in a terror and began to thrash about, provoking the men to try and hold her down to inject her with something more potent. Before that could happen though, she could feel a warmth erupt from deep within her. A shout left her throat and a surge of electricity pulsed out of her, shattering the lights leaving nothing but darkness. She slipped under once more before waking up to her father calling her name, armed with nothing but the flashlight from his cellphone. She woke up what felt like hours later. It had been months. She was in another office, this time a bit more professional before she was met with the presence of what was probably another doctor. The first time in her life she began to ask questions, rattling them off like bullets, asking about where she was, who he was, where her dad was. It was something new for her all together. The reality of the situation was her father owed money, lots of it, and they found out he had been spending money to bring her to the aquarium every month for years. Her father knew of the result from the onset but had made peace with it. The doctor explained that he had brought Kiyo in late at night distraught, wounded, and carrying a girl on the verge of death from a botched organ extraction. She was the target of the black-market trade, not her father. With no donors and no one to match Kiyo’s blood type except for her father he made the decision to donate whatever organs she needed to live. The transplants worked, but to save her life he had to exchange his. This was the second time Kiyo was met with loss and this time she was also unable to process it, but that would be the last time she did. After her recovery, she decided to join the Tenshi-tachi no musuko-tachi as a means to an end. She used her time with them to hone her already latent talents and learn whatever she could while she got herself set up. Eventually she was able to extend her reach to find the men who her father was indebted too. Without so much as a hint of hesitation she struck like an eel and devoured the men just as the sharks would that her father would so fondly watch during their routine aquarium visits. Things were empty for her after that, she took what she wanted from her slum of a home that had lost its sheen after what transpired and she headed out of the Heita district, forever. She left the Sons of Angels behind all the same and made sure to stop at the aquarium one last time. Kiyo sawm through life like the very fish she loved, becoming a gun for hire until she met one contractor named Tsukiyama, that wanted her skills permanently. Dismissive at first, Kiyo finally came around when she realized she was tired and the Kurosagi clan could help meet and share her goals. |
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@Salsa Verde youre approved, you can move it over to the Character Tab, also i dont know if youre in it already hut feel free to join the Discord! we talk alot about plot ideas and character relationships over there
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