Emilia Elembayev does not consider herself a violent person. But she has an odd fascination with the macabre, one that goes beyond what others may consider healthy. Doesn't everyone have urges to inflict pain on others and find out what makes things tick? These urges have remained hidden throughout her life. Emily is used to keeping her truest self locked away from others.
This small, dark core is buried. She has built an identity for herself despite earlier troubles. Emily is a confident, ambitious, intelligent woman that is quick to make an impression on those she meets. Manipulative is one word for her, though she prefers to call herself socially effecient. Besides, manipulative has a negative connotation that Emilia believes is unwarranted. She does not exhibit a dislike for her fellow humans, she finds them fascinating and interesting and wants them to like her. Who doesn't want to be liked? Emilia is protective of her public image and wants to be respected and appreciated.
Emiliya is a confident, self-assured woman, but when her ego or image is threatened she gets angry. Immediately she will try to put the threat down in a cruel verbal takedown. If this fails she will flounder and retreat, but if somehow this is prevented she can become potentially violent. While this anger can come quickly it doesn't subside nearly as fast, and Emiliya holds a vindictive grudge against those who cross her.
Emiliya can also become fixated on certain things to an obsessive degree. Whether it be winning the affections of someone, destroying her enemies, or seeing where a street cat meanders off too. While she is an astute observer of the environment around her, every once in a while particular thing will capture her attention and she will have the desire to fully explore or possess it.
This all being said, most people will never know the extent of Emily's many quirks. Most of the time she is a amiable, assertive, and maybe a little too mean sometimes college student.
【 SKILLS 】
. First Aid, Human Anatomy . Investigation and Perception . Lying and Detecting Lies . Charisma . Creative Fiction
【 PARANORMAL EXPERIENCE 】
A few weeks ago she was walking to her dorm when something caught her eye. A person was standing perfectly still, holding something behind their back and faciing Emiliya, though she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not. There was an itch on the back of her neck and immediately Emiliya knew that this curious person would be the focus of her attention for a while. She sat down and pretended to text on her phone while stealthily sneaking peaks at the statue-esque man. He didn't move for five minutes, and no other students were around. Eventually she got up and began to walk over to him only for him to finally begin moving. With stilted strides he turned around. He was still obscuring the thing he was holding, having moved it to his front. That was annoying.
Eventually he turned a corner down an alleyway. After a few seconds Emiliya summoned her courage and the itch drove her forward. Turning the corner to a dead end alleyway, the man had vanished entirely. Only there was evidence to his existence, something that still gives Emiliya wonderous chills to this day. An ornate lockbox...floating five feet in the air, perfectly still. Emiliya cautiously, painfully slowly approached and plucked the thing out of the air. It was gold and obsidian, and she couldn't open it. It weighed practically nothing. With no sign of the stranger she stuffed the thing away in her backpack and hurried home. The lockbox still sits in a drawer in her dormitory. Quite often she returns to it and wonders if she should break it open, but something tells her she shouldn't.
【 BIOGRAPHY 】
Emiliya used to pick on small animals as a child. She enjoyed scaring them or throwing rocks at them or kicking them. It made her feel strong and superior and she liked seeing the different ways they all reacted to something so incomprehensible. The way a squirrel chittered and flailed after getting hit by a rock. The way a hill of ants went into a panicked frenzy as an uncaring goddess squashed them because she could. This all culminated in her capture and killing of a muskrat as she experimented on it. Guilt punctured her fun though, and the eight year old didn't do something like that again.
She never liked her parents. Or maybe they never liked her. From Emiliya's perspective it didn't matter. Growing up in a small town in Russia, she felt trapped. Her mother and father were boring and dull and religious. Her mother was a spineless, cowardly drunk and her father was an angry, thick-headed pig. They stewed in their own failures. Worst of all, they liked her older sister better. Pined over her. She was so talented, funny, confident. Well behaved. She wasn't odd, quiet, and turbulent like Emiliya. Her older sister would save them all. They would live vicariously through her success. That didn't matter. Emiliya played the part until she turned 17. School was her only solace. There her talents were recognized. There she could gain the respect of her teachers and peers. Her older sister was too old to be in her schools so she could exist outside of her shadow. Academic success came easy, and so did the admiration of her peers. Though every once in a while they spurred her by mentioning how famous her up and coming celebrity-singer of a sister was...But they learned that she could make them feel worse about themselves. So they stopped. One night she quietly announced her departure, and perhaps her parents didn't think she was serious. Perhaps they didn't hear her, or it didn't recognize in their minds until she was gone. That night she vanished from the lives of those who had raised her. They didn't matter. She had scholarships, and marketable skills. She would forge her own path. Her academic credentials alone were enough to get her inside. Eventually the name on those scholarships- Andrea Totsky- the little weakling- would be forgotten. She would say she went by Emily. Two years later and no one calls her Andrea. She is Emiliya, a new woman. Socialite, scientist, do-gooder.
As far as the people of Sonina knew, Emiliya was a native. Infact she came from a town not too far from Sonina that was even more backwater than this one. Still she picked up on the traditions of Sonina quickly to ingratiate herself, and the surreal charm of the town has her enraptured. This is a place full of discovery, something brimming just beneath the surface. A small town, yes, perhaps nothing more than a launching point of her upcoming long and bountiful career. But an interesting launching point at that. One that demands to be explored and conquered. An interesting town with an interesting people. The Shadows...fascinating. Emiliya has never been a believer in the supernatural before, but she finds herself more and more convinced by the day. The aura of this town is infectious. Sonina. Her adopted hometown.
Leela was born to immigrants from India. Her mother and father were very well off there and wanted to seek more fortune in the Land of Opportunity. They had already amassed quite amount of wealth ontop of the money they had already inherited from their parents before them. Members of the upper class, they left it all behind. Leela is an American citizen, and she can fluently speak Indian and English, with the proper natural accents for both, a true bi-lingual person.
Pressure was on Leela from a young age. Her parents were incredibly successful. Some of it was self-imposed, Leela didn't just want to be seen as the rich girl riding on the coatails of mommy and daddy. So she worked extra hard. She could have gotten into Law School on scholarships alone, but she didn't need to worry about money either. Leela went to a private school and always had access to the highest level of education.
Resources
Luxury Vehicle Lawyer Mother Real Estate Tycoon Father Money Smart Phone Purse Weird Occultist Uncle Minor Celebrity Sister
Crimes
A drunk driving case in defence of a man who was sitting in the driver seat drunk in a parking lot when he was rearended by a grandma.
A civil case in regards to landlords allegedly unjust eviction of lower income tenets.
Name: Eltariel, the Blade of Galadriel) Appearance: Series of origin: Shadow of War Personality: Eltariel is a quiet woman of reserved but friendy disposition. She believes in the rule of right and tries to solve problems non-violently. Once she decides someone deserves to die though she has no qualms executing them. Eltariel is by all means an authoritarian, and follows the commands of those above her usually to the letter. Though recently she disobeyed Galadriel, and suffered dearly for it, and is now trying to redeem herself of her failure. Still, she can be arrogant and dismissive of others and their thoughts, often believing that her cause and those she serves are the truest, highest, and most righteous authority. She has also been fighting one specific fight for a very long time, and when she is out of her comfort zone she tends to flounder in indecisiveness, or make thoughts based on her base instincts rather than her practiced logic.
Abilities:
Martial Expert: Eltariel is a master of various kinds of weapons, having trained with them and used them for over a thousand years.
Elf: Being an elf, Eltariel does not age. She also has keen hearing and eyesight.
Light of Galadriel: Eltariel wields power granted to her by Galadriel. She can blast out this light in the form of high speed orbs to knock people back and cause them to be inundated with light. She can create kinetic explosions of energy by punching the ground. She can also run at speeds of up to 40 miles an hour once she gets going, and use it to quite literally double jump in the air. It also grants her advanced, supernatural reaction times and environmental awareness, allowing her to percieve the world as if in slow motion. All of these abilities cost focus, and if she uses too many in a row they become taxing on her form and she has to wait to recuperate.
Bow of Lothlórien: Summong an incorporeal bow, Eltariel can loose arrows that travel faster than sound and strike with heat and ferocity. She has ten arrows, and gets more over time or by incinerating evildoers with her light. She can also use two arrows to teleport to a location within one mile of her current location, usually towards her living target.
Undying: Eltariel's life is bound to that of the New Ring, the one she wears on her left index finger. For her, death is literally not an option. There are ancient elven towers in the realm of mordor. Whenever Eltariel is killed, the New Ring will vanish from her body and reappear at the nearest elven tower. There, Eltariel is resurrected back to life on the dawn of the next day. It is an entirely new body, reproducing the weapons and armor she had on her at the time, with all of her memories and experiences intact. Eltariel herself wonders this resurrection is a true resurrection, or if she is just a copy of her soul. In reality it does not matter. Eltariel has died many times on her quest against evil, so the question is moot.
Domination: Eltariel can influence the weak-minded, particularly animals. An enemy must be defeated in order for this to take place, as Eltariel has to place her hand directly on the head of the individual. Those more powerful than her can shrug off the effect entirely, and those under her influence can break free. Mostly she uses it on wildlife to bend them to her will, or on the endless waves of orcs that are attacking Gondor, who care only for violence and can be easily and happily pointed in a different direction. Those who are stern of spirit and mind can shake off her domination. Indeed the person most at risk of succumbing to the New Ring's influence is Eltariel herself, who must continually remind herself of her mission in order to not give into it's inherently evil influence. Weapons and equipment:
Light Scale Mail Armor- Lithe and form-fitting, this armor protects her from damage while keeping her mobility unhindered.
Blades of Galadriel- Two magical sword shorts, enchanted to be unbreakable. They are razor sharp, incredibly well balanced, and Eltariel wields them with expert ease. If she wishes to fight nonlethally, she blunts their edges with her spirit energy, making them more into hard hitting stun guns rather than blades. Character alignment: Lawful Good Other: Eltariel is Lawful Good only because of Galadriel's alignment. She is easily tempted by power, though she tries her hardest to do the right thing she has an ego that can blind her to what that truly means. She has been fighting for a long time, and a small part of her wishes it could all just be over.
Name: Dio "DIO" Brando Appearance: Series of origin: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders Personality: DIO is a narcissistic, sadistic, pure evil egomaniac. Granted the gifts of a god complex and insanity after spending one hundred years in the bottom of the ocean, DIO exists to conquer the world and those who live in it. He truly believes that he is the ultimate life form and that he should rule simply because all others are inferior to him. He extracts joy from hurting and killing others. When not cackling maniacally, he is a charismatic leader, a wicked savior who manipulate the down-trodden into joining his nefarious cause, promising them power and wealth. He is sauve, sensual, and a bizarre sense of dry humor during the rare moments when he has his guard down. Personal connections are rare, if not non-existant for him. Only a select few people see DIO as little more than their dark lord, or an evil bastard who needs to be put down. He is unbelievably arrogant and will toy with those he believes to be beneath him. Despite how lowly the vermin around him seem to be, he also wants to be loved, feared, and respected by them.
Abilities:
In the late 19th Century, a young man named Dio Brando, determined to gain the riches that eluded his father, dons an ancient stone mask that turns him into a blood-sucking vampire. The powers granted to him are as follows;
1. Regeneration
It is nearly impossible to kill DIO with direct physical violence. Limbs severed can be re-attatched, or even commanded to move on their own. Holes, no matter how massive, can be reformed. Once a limb is severed though, it can only be reattatched, not reformed. His weak point is the brain, but even that is difficult to destroy. Only with complete annihilation of the head can DIO be rendered immobile. Nothing else will suffice. The other way to prevent regeneration is sunlight. Whether direct, natural sunlight, or simulated sunlight like UV rays, or sunlight derived from magic. Fire is also somewhat effective, slowing his regeneration powers. He is capable of being incinerated, but the final blow must be applied with sunlight. Death by sunlight is not instantaneous, but it is very fast, and is paralyzing in it's agony. Only when attacked by sunlight or it's derivatives can DIO feel pain. Wounds from conventional weaponry are of no concern to the vampire.
His regeneration powers are powerful, but they do have limits. DIO needs blood in order to regenerate. He can use his own blood, but that tends to run out quickly when severed limbs are involved. So he must take the blood of humans in order to fully regenerate.
2. Super strength DIO has super strength, able to punch clean through concrete with ease. Weights of up to 50 tons are of no object.
3. Levitation DIO can levitate from a standing position, and rise in elevation up to ten or so feet from where he launched up. He must come down after a couple of minutes. He cannot use it to cancel momentum already built up. Any contact from outside forces forces him to land.
4. Body Control DIO has total control over every element of his body. He is ageless. His hair follicles can stretch and harden to become lethal wires, and so can the very veins that make up his body. He can cancel the bloodflow in his arms and use his vampiric bloodflow to make any part of his body freezing cold, enough to deal serious damage to anyone who touches him. He can concentrate blood through his pupils to fire lazers capable of burning through stone, but is blind while doing so.
5. Undead Plague DIO can resurrect the dead. When they are resummoned they become under his control. He can inject his blood into people like a poison. As long as he has a fresh supply of blood he can create as many minions as he wants. A normal infected human is slightly stronger, and gain limited forms of body control. The more powerful a minion was when they were alive, the more powerful they are when they are a zombie. People who follow DIO willingly into undead servitude retain all of their powers when they were alive, plus the abilities of being a vampire, though they won't know how to use them.
Stands are the physical manifestation of the soul and of one's fighting spirit. In many ways, they are the truest form of any give individual, their willpower made manifest. There are a few ways to manifest a Stand. One can be simply born a Stand User, and have one from a young age or one that only manifests as they grow older. One can manifest a Stand by simply being of high enough willpower or skill that the Stand appears. Or, there are certain objects of power within the world that grant people a Stand, if they can survive the process. DIO acquired his Stand sometime during his stay at the bottom of the ocean, stewing in his own hatred and narcissism until it manifested. Only those with a Stand can see a Stand. Every Stand is unique and has their own power, varying in strength from detrimental to insanely powerful. DIO's Stand, which he named The World, is one of the most if not the most powerful in existance. Any damage taken by a Stand is reflected onto the user. Stands can pass through solid objects given their ghostly form, and also float in mid air. Generally Stands can only move a small distance from their user, and most users cannot see through the eyes of their Stand.
All Stands manifest a personality of their own, but most of the time it is an exact copy of the User's with some slight variations. In DIO's case, The World is an entity who derives pleasure from hurting others and wants to conquer all. The only difference is, it keeps it's mouth shut and doesn't talk unless DIO tells it too. Most Stands behave this way, and are bound to their users. DIO and The World share the exact same goals and they are the same entity with the same thoughts and beliefs, which is the most common form of a Stand's personality to take.
1. Stop Time DIO can use his stand to stop time. Within the stopped time, he can effect and is effected by the environment when in stopped time. For example, if he throws an object, depending on how hard he threw it, it will travel for a short distance before coming to a stop. DIO's stopped time grants him five seconds of movement. Seconds is a strange way of thinking about it. But moving within stopped time is mentally taxing, and after five seconds of actions time resumes. Potentially DIO could stop time for hours if he didn't move or do anything, but only five seconds of actual actions such as walking and punching are available to him. Anything in the environment can still harm him, for example, if he stopped time while standing in the sun, he would still burn to death. Stop Time also has a recharge time. He can stop time every 25 seconds or so. The more he uses Stop Time, the more fragile his Stand becomes until it can be shattered in a single punch.
2. Super Strength and Speed
The World can punch very fast, and can move fast enough to catch and deflect bullets in mid air. It's strength mirrors DIO's own. The World can move independantly of DIO within a range of 10 meters.
3. Durability The World can withstand a signficant amount of punishment, but it is more brittle than DIO. When the World sustains damage, so does DIO. DIO can actually withstand more damage than the World, which is only because of his vampiric powers. So while the World is more durable than most Stands, it is actually DIO's weak point. The only way to damage a Stand is with a Stand of one's own, though, as they can choose to become immaterial, or only make certain parts of their body intangible.
Weapons and equipment: Many knives. He has like, 50 knives. I don't know why. Character alignment: Neutral Evil. While he thrives in chaos, his ultimate goal is domination, and the achievement of ultimate power. His thirst for power and blood is never ending.
Other: This is DIO during the events of Stardust Crusaders. His arch enemies haven't quite made it to where he lives yet, but are still on the way to destroy him. DIO is a very powerful villain, but I am joining this RP with the intention of him getting his ass kicked So while I would like his defeat to be well earned, I do want it to happen. I think there are plenty of ways to defeat him, especially with the entire body of human fiction to draw upon. I am going to collaborate on this front with whoever crosses paths with him. In some ways he is a Thanos level villain. In other ways, he can't go outside without dying for 12 hours of the day.
Name: June Dubois Gender / Preferred Pronouns: Female, She/Her Age:21 Year and Degree Program: Year 6, Biology Nationality: France Appearance: June is a white woman standing at about 5'6, with long black hair she frequently ties into a ponytail. Her face and facial features have a circular motif, whether it be her disarming, large, light blue eyes or her prominent up-tilted nose, she is a woman of few sharp edges. Usually there is a flower of some kind in her hair, always fresh and never wilting. Often she wears casual clothes like tanktops and jeans, the occasional hoodie. Besides the obvious flower tucked behind her ear, the rest of herself is a muted color pallete. However, she has a preference towards non-abrasive yellows.
Location and Notes on Star Mark: There is a large star, about the size of a DVD, right above her heart and on the edge of her left breast. It is a dark black, with six points long arms sprouting from a small center. When she wears tank tops it can usually be seen poking out. Star power:
June has the power of restoration and alteration, on a micro and macro scale. With the tips of her figures she can shape the makeup of any object. When she so chooses objects become murky, like they are made of gel, and she can change their form with her mind. For example, someone with a gunshot wound can find it healed with a quick touch. The wound can be sealed and the bullet combined into the rest of the body and it will be as good as new. A book that has fallen off of it's shelf will float through the air and nestle itself neatly into where it once was. An apple and an orange can be pressed together into something new and beautiful. A person's hand can be pressed into a brick wall and become one with it. A charred piece of wood restored to the way it once was, or even pressed gently back into the tree trunk to give it back. The transition is usually short and seamless. These were her powers as they were when she was young. The only limits were her imagination, knowledge, and what she could reach with her fingertips.
Once corrupted, she found new ways to alter the environment around her in more dramatic ways. The gel can ripple and generate force. A piece of concrete wall could be turned 90 degrees upwards or to the side. It can now spread from one object to another, carrying the will of June with it, her energy turning mundane objects into conduits. The smaller and fewer the objects, the easier it is. Water slips easily through her finger tips and other energy sources escape her influence unless contained somehow. Sand, gravel, dirt, can only be influenced by the area around her hand or what solid object she can interact with. But a steel beam can easily be bended and cracked foundations can be restored to their rightful place. A piece of cloth can absorb anything it touches and grow in size. She calls this ability of hers: Knitting.
Personality: June Dubois is a sentimental, passionate person. Everything she does is lead by her heart and her emotions. Decisions are spur of the moment based on how she is feeling rather than any consideration of logic or long-term thinking. June says how she is thinking with little regard for decorum but her own feelings are rather easily hurt. Social nuances can escape her but beneath the bluster there is a woman trying to do her best to have people like her, and who wants to please those around her and forge connections. Morality is simple for her. She wants to be nice to nice people and mean to mean people. Asking her hypotheticals is almost entirely useless. She has an oddball sense of humor and tries to find the funny in most situations. She adores animals and flowers. June is not a relaxing person to be around but she can be friendly and attentive to what other people want or need- but boundaries are rarely respected and her clingyness and need for companionship can often drive people away. Experience has given her a usually cynical self-awareness and frequently apologetic nature, spending time with her can reveal that she often wishes she can do or say the right thing but throughout her entire adult life has always seemed to make the wrong choice. This is why a decent percentage of her spur of the moment, passionate decisions is the one to retreat and not risk messing up.
June has an altruism in her but her heart-on-the-sleeve nature means she can be quick to many negative emotions, be they anger, sadness, or fear. Overall she can be seen as a bit of a mess and predictable in her unpredictability. She trusts easily, but is very protective of her own liberty and hates being tricked. Last but not least, she is good with books and knowledge and when she can convince herself to concentrate on learning a subject can pick it up quite easily.
Biography: June was born in France to a Parisian, mechanic father and an English financially inclined mother. June knew she had abilities early on and played with them. Her parents discovered her powers when she combined a frog with a rock and began crying that she couldn't figre out how to free it. She made friends but was easy pickings for bullies considering it was almost guaranteed one would get a reaction out of her.
Her parents loved her very much and were extremely protective. Often she was told to stay indoors, even though June wanted very badly to go play with the other children in the street. June began to rebel and sneak out anyway, and her being influencable she quickly fell in with a bad crowd. Or rather, an extremely rich, extremely popular girl and her clique of followers. It was bad luck that she didn't find a better friend but vulnerable people tend to be detected much easier by bad people than by good people.
For one reason or another, this popular person wanted to exert her power over June and others. Maybe she was biased against the Stars, or perhaps June's mother had slighted her father, or maybe she just hated being insulted. June would never really find out. One day, when June was 14, that vindictive young woman persuaded June into hazing another girl. It was simple, use her power to humiliate the other teenager. The popular girl seemed to be much more creative with June's powers than June was herself, and the result was too much to bear. It was the frog all over again. The popular person slapped June and told her to stop crying, and June became angry. For the first time in her life she lashed out. She grabbed her by the wrist and slapped the wealthy girl across the face by her own hand- only the hand didn't come off her face. Everything was a blur after that. She was the daughter of a respected community leader, and the odd little Star girl had always creeped out the local children. Apparently- June nor her parents weren't aware of such feelings before that fateful night but they erupted or perhaps, were created on that fateful night.
Her parents were killed in one of the many riots that would go onto create Black Stars. June was, after that night, among them. June escaped and was homeless, fleeing her small town to travel to back to Paris. After a few months on the street- being unaware of what to do or who could help her- she was eventually discovered by Child Protection Services who then turned her over to the Welfare system, who upon discovering her abilities was picked up by the Nova Infinitum. For a while her life stabilized and the caretakers there realised she might do better with a bit of medication to mellow her out. It did, but when she turned 18 she was no longer required to take them. Immediately she wanted the liberty of being herself back and stopped taking the pills. Occasionally one of the teachers she trusted more could convince her to take them for important times if they felt it was right for her to do so. So only in the last few years has June Dubois made her truer self known again to her fellow students. Notable Rumors: It has been said that June used her powers to bring her parents back to life as zombies, a twisted mockery of human life. They followed her around and ate the people that had wronged her- apparently. This, of course, isn't true. But it would be false to say that June didn't try to save her parents that night with her powers- long after they had passed away.
Trivia: June's favorite flower is the rose, or the daisy, and her favorite color is red and blue. One time, June stopped someone from falling off a ladder by touching him on the way down and restoring his denhim overalls to the position they just were: ontop of the ladder. She doesn't have any tattoos of piercings now, but she has used her powers to give herself some. She combined the cover of her favorite book into her shoulder blade for a while, which worked, and belly button piercings and the like were super easy to do. But she outgrew that phase when no one was super impressed or even creeped out. But if you want, she can help give people piercings and tattoos. She's even done tattoo removal a few times for other people.
June can speak French and English exceptionally well, having grown up and spent a lot of time in a bi-lingual home. She has a slight french accent when she speaks english and vice-versa.
Other: She can use her powers on herself, but it's generally much more difficult and limited. Healing wounds can be painful and if she slips up she could end up making the damage worse. It's much easier to heal other people. Therapy is something she has considered but she doesn't like the schedules and the removal of freedom to be herself. Plus, in the past, it hasn't been as effective since she tends to just tell the therapist what she thinks they would like to hear.
Are you a part of the Future Front Line Redemption program?: Yes. Are you a criminal Yes, I am.
If you answered yes then what were your crime/s: Racketeering, Extortion, Blackmail, Fraud, Possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute.
Please Enter your CV: Well, I like to think I'm friendly enough. Or at least have a little bit of self-awareness. But I mean, here I am signing up for this scam- and it is a scam- trust me, I would know- so clearly I'm not that self-aware. I like tiny cute animals. I haven't had one in a while, because my dog passed away but I didn't want to get a new one since I figured I was probably either going to end up dead or in prison. Instead, I'm going to Mars. That's life. You can probably extrapolate a little bit about me from the laundry list of crimes I've committed. Like, you know, maybe my moral fiber isn't the best the best. When I was in the game it didn't seem that bad. You know, one minute a mysterious guy asks you to do a favor for a little extra cash, the next you're responsible for a bloody shootout in Hong Kong. It spirals. It's hard to get perspective when you're inside the whirlpool, you know? So I figured I could put some distance between me and my problems. I guess you could say I needed a little...space. Right?
Look, there's a reason I became a criminal, and not a comedian, even though some people have described me as a joke. Particularly towards the end there, when everything was falling apart. Man. The last five years have really been a roller coaster.
What is your moto: Live, Laugh, Love. Happy?
Relationship Status: Single.
What do you pride yourself on?: I used to pride myself on my intelligence and wit. Clearly, I'm not that intelligent, nor witty.
What was your last job before signing up to the Program?: I'll just put Accountant here.
NAME: Galia Guardstrike GENDER: Female, She/Her AGE: 36
APPEARANCE:
BACKGROUND: Galia Guardstrike killed her first man when she was 16 years old, and had been prepared to do so since she was 12. To say she has lived a hard life would be an understatement, and to say she has lived a moral life would be a lie. Cities greater and full of weak men exist in this world and it in them Galia was born and made into the woman she was ten years ago. With no family to rely upon, it was Galia that carved out her own existence in the streets, in the underworld, and in the battlefield. Mercenary and sellsword work, both legal and not so, has granted her years of experience. She has killed those who deserved it and those who have not. There is nothing Galia despised more than the idea of poverty, of being helpless, ever since her early childhood. But that all changed when she met a woman named Eleanor Wadewater. She was a nurse working alongside her mercenary unit at the time, and for the first time Galia saw someone for more than just a proof of a kill attatched to a set of shoulders. Eleanor Wadewater was the first love of Galia's life- and Galia will never know what Elly saw in her- but for some reason Elly loved Galia back.
Slowly, Elly pulled Galia away from the mercenary life. Galia taught Elly to fight, to be resourceful, to be perseptive and deceptive, and Elly taught Galia how to enjoy life for more than it's base pleasures. To see the good in people, to see the value in looking out for more than just oneself. And of course, plenty of medicinal training used to heal instead of hurt. Galia wasn't sure if she would ever "buy into" it, but overtime she did. They married, and Galia adopted Eleanor's last name. Eleven years ago, Eleanor made Galia swear an oath that she would never return to that life. Somehow, Galia managed too. One year later, Elly dragged Galia along on a routine journey to some arbitrary location so the pair could do some good. They were not alone, Eleanor travelled with a group of similarly minded companions called the Practitioners. Bad luck. The fog settled in that day and the pair would spend the next decade of their lives within Pigeon Citadel. Trapped, isolated from Eleanor's extended family. But the two would survive. Eventually they even began to grow content. If anything, Galia was happy that those who she feared stalked her shadow, the ghosts of her dark past, could never find her within Feros.
All that changed, however, when six months ago, Eleanor came down with an illness. As things progressed, the Practitioners came to the conclusion that it would, indeed, end Eleanor's life. The only cures were of an herbal and exotic nature. The only catch, was that it did not exist within Feros Providence, and that it was expensive. Too expensive to be made within a short amount of time doing safe work.
They argued. Elly demanded that Galia not go, and at her behest she stayed, but both of them knew Galia had come too far to just sit back and watch, even with as dangerous the Beast was. It was only a matter of time before Galia Wadewater needed to retire; Galia 'Guardstrike' the mercenary, would venture out one last time.
MOTIVATION: Galia is travelling the North Road to hunt down the beast, collect the reward, use it to purchase the foreign medicine required to save Eleanor Wadewater. Then she would return using the newly liberated passage to administer it. No half-measures, the beast must die. Not only to make the return trip possible, but Galia needs the money aswell.
GEAR:
The Guardstrike Longsword itself. The blade is 40 inches and comes to a keen, if slightly asymmetrical, point. The guard is made of sturdy steel and curved slightly upward. The handle is polished ebony wood ending with a simple steel pommel.
A lantern with fuel, and a bag of first aid medicine Galia knows how to use.
Bedroll and mess kit.
Four days worth of rations.
Medium armor, mostly comprised of leather and cloth but with shoulder and neck protection. Overall it looks very thrown together, made of various pieces of armor from different but once complete sets.
Name: Koriand'r, or Kory Anders Alias: Starfire, Star. (She prefers people call her by her alias) Image/Description:
Age: 19 in biology, 190 Earth years Gender: Female, She/Her Race: Tamaranean Alignment: Hero Mentor: The other Teen Titans Skills/Meta Abilities:
Alien Biology: Starfire is from Tamaran and like all of her people has natural abilities beyond average humans. She has super strength, super endurance, super durability. Like all Tamaraneans though, Starfire is an emotionally driven person and derives her powers from her emotions. By feeling certain emotions she produces all of her powers, and if she fails to do so her powers become limited or even vanish entirely. The emotion most strongly associated with her durability, endurance, and super strength is determination and confidence. If her convinction, hope, or determination wavers she will become more vulnerable, weaker, and tired, sometimes to the result of becoming more fragile then normal humans. If negative emotions become too strong it is possible for her to fall into a coma or even die, but that is only under the most extreme circumstances.
Starbolts: Starfire can gather green energy from within herself and project it onto the world with devastating effect. These projectiles explode on impact after she throws them. They travel in a straight line unless Starfire wants them to have a downwards arc. She can also channel Star energy from her eyes, or use different types of blasts, or even create some protective forcefields. Augmenting the power of her punches and kicks are also a possibility, and she can use thermal energy on command. The emotion most strongly associated with Energy Projection is righteous fury and conviction. If she becomes too angry she will lose control, and if she feels fear or doubt her Starbolts will lose their power.
Flight: Starfire can fly at speeds of up to one hundred miles per hour if she builds up enough speed. If she has time to focus and prepare herself, she can travel faster than light for inter-stellar travel but cannot interact with her environment as she becomes a massless beam of light. She must feel happiness, hope, and independance in order to fly. If she feels sadness, desperation, or isolation she will fly slower or lose the ability all together.
Warrior Skills: Starfire was trained from her youth to be a fighter, and is well trained in Tamaranean martial arts, both unarmed and with weapons.
Technical Skill and Knowledge: Starfire is well-versed with the inner working of spaceships and cosmic concepts like blackholes, the formation of stars, and other anomalies. Her naivete is not to be confused with stupidity, as she is quite intelligent.
Personality: Starfire is kind, bubbly and naive. She is a compassionate person who is resolute on protecting the innocent people of Earth. Whereever there is injustice she seeks to destroy it. Starfire cares about those around her and how they feel and often tries to reach out to them and make friends. Gullibility is a weakness of hers, with verbal lies, tricks, and emotional manipulation easily affecting her. Starfire is also insecure about herself and her feelings can be hurt rather easily, needing assurance from those around her. Koriand'r likes to be cheerful and sweet, acting this way makes her happy. But if negative emotions overwhelm her she can become swamped in them, making it far more difficult for her to recover from slumps compared to normal humans. It is not easy to break her spirit but if it breaks, it will stay broken.
Likes: Robin
Cyborg, Raven, Beast Boy
Victory
Animals of all kinds
Drinking mustard
Spending quality time with her friends, or even seemingly mundane activities
Dislikes: Emotional confrontation and arguments, whether between herself and others or her friends arguing with each other
Blackfire
Keeping secrets, being decieved
People flirting with Robin
Defeat
Backstory: Koriand'r was born on Tamaran. She was raised by a large and loving family, with the exception of her sister, Komand'r. Once, the two got along, but Komand'r, otherwise known as Blackfire, grew to hate her younger sister, resenting her place in the family "hierarchy". Tamaran was attacked by a race known as the Gordanians and became war-torn as it began to lose the war against the invaders. Blackfire took advantage and brokered a peace and moving herself up in position by trading Starfire as a slave. After which she took control, and Star's parents died of grief and despair.
Starfire fell into a depression but eventually her anger and hope sparked, allowing her to escape her captors who had experimented on her and enhanced her energy projection powers, hoping to make her into a war slave. She escaped and travelled to Earth, where she met the Teen Titans. They quickly became her best friends and she has taken a very strong liking to planet Earth, vowing to protect it from evil, partly in order to repay the planet for taking her in. She and the Titans went on many adventures and she has defended the planet and it's people several times against evil, and while things have been scary or terrifying, she has had a great deal of fun and excitement.
Name: Kasugano Sakura Game Origin: Street Fighter IV Appearance:
Personality:
Kasugano Sakura is a friendly, respectful go-getter who thrives for self improvement. She thinks fighting is fun, as long as the stakes are low. The heroine business hasn't really been for her, and Sakura has trying to find her place in the world.
Sakura tries to maintain a level of self-awareness as to not lose herself in ego or to make too much of a fool of herself, but she is a very excitable person. Excitable sometimes to the form of detriment, and this excitement can sometimes be born of frustration and anger, resulting in the young woman occasionally having flashes of temper if something particularly annoying doesn't go her way.
Sakura has a surprising amount of willpower for someone her age and has successfully taught herself (with some "help") the martial art of Ki. With the right amount of focus she could pull off all that hokey 'enlightment' and 'meditation' stuff. If she really wanted too. Some people take it a little too far. She truly is a good, kind person at heart, and while normally she fights only to protect her family and friends, every once in a while she can be pushed into the whole 'greater good' business. Save the world, protect the innocent, blah blah blah, you know how it is. Truth be told she never quite felt cut out for that kind of thing and while she projects a level of confidence bordering on brashness, it's hiding a somewhat insecure young woman trying to find her place in the world. Who is she to try to save anyone, right? Sakura doesn't see herself as a hero, and sometimes doesn't see herself as much of a fighter, either.
Background: Sakura is the definition of humble beginnings. Infact, you could probably tack on a humble middle and a humble ending, too, because from the looks of it she wasn't cut out to be much of anything. If anything, she was to inherit her parent's family business- a sushi restaurant. Kasugano Eats. She had cooking lessons from her mom and dad and she's actually pretty good at it. Her younger brother and her have a good, friendly relationship, even if he can be a little brat sometimes. And he's way too good at videogames. Still, if he's also a better cook and seems to fit in pretty good with her friends.
Martial arts was something that caught Sakura's eye pretty quick. She casually trained as a kid, though it mostly manifested as making stupid poses in the mirror and making makeshift headbands. She didn't really get into it until she found her hero, Ryu, on TV. His warrior's philosophy, skill, power, and as much as Sakura doesn't want to admit it, good lucks, had an effect on the middle schoolers soul. Now she understand that if she really wanted to find out what she was going to do with her life, she would have to find the answer in the heart of battle. It was at this point she announced her intentions to everyone important in her life, from her family to her childhood bestfriend Kei. Kei is wise beyond her years and a bit of a shut in, but the two make a great pair and Sakura admits that she would probably be a real goober had she never met Kei.
So when she was 14 she began her training regiment, and it was far more brutal and demanding then she let on. Then even she herself realised. Years running around the block. Hoping one day, in some distant dream, to earn the approval of her her hero, Ryu. If she could earn his respect, then everything she was doing would be validated. Her training earned the suspicion of her parents as her grades began to falter and she regularly skipped school. But it didn't matter. There were arguments over it, and Sakura began to worry if she was doing the right thing. However a brief encounter with a bully of Kei proved to everyone that she was making real improvement, as she easily defeated the boy two years her senior and seemingly twice her size. This was her first street fight, and it was a prelude of things to come. She trained, watching Ryu and his best friend Ken on TV almost every day, and using duct-tape and elbow grease, constructed her own fighting style heavily based on Ryu's.
It was at this point, when she was 15, where she met a martial artist naed Dan, someone who claimed to be even more powerful then Ryu. The young girl was almost duped by him when she realised he was just a wannabe like her, though he would never admit it. Still, his experience was helpful even though she took everything he said with a grain of salt. Indeed her regimine was still self taught, though if you asked Dan he would say that Sakura is actually his star pupil. Nonetheless, the pair became friends and he helped her come in contact with the world of Street Fighter. No matter how many 'exaggerations' Dan made, there was still undeniable proof that he had fought and actually put up a challenge to her hero, Ryu. Therefore, she was only one degree away from knowing Ryu personally. Or, something like that.
When she was 16, she finally was able to project her energy in the form of Hadoken. Overjoyed, she left her home to travel the world in search of Ryu and to enter a Street Fighter tournament. Unfortunately, the first person she met was Sagat, a rival of Ryu's. He saw her fighting style and assumed her to be a pupil of his, and demanded to know where he was. This was her first real street fight, but Sagat called it off when he realised he had both underestimated her, and realised that he was attempting to beat up a literal child for information and felt bad. So that was a bust for Sakura when he refused to fight no matter how many times she insisted she was okay with getting beat up.
Things escalated from there. She participated in a tournament, and actually beat up some very talented fighters. She even got to get knocked out herself and learned something from it! It really was a dream come true. Sakura was knocked head over heels when she actually met Ken in a tournament and after expressing her appreciation to the two of them (though Ken knew it was mostly Ryu she was after), Ken agreed to help organize a meet up between Ryu and his number one fan.
Unfortunately, the two came across a plot that was in motion. Some evil fascist guy named M. Bison was trying to take over the world and had brainwashed her hero, Ryu. It really was a deeply unsettling sight. Ken and Sakura teamed up to battle M. Bison, and that Sagat guy from earlier probably tailed them to find Ryu and ended up battling the brainwashed hero. They all succeeded, and everyone seemed to be pretty blase that a 16 year old just got into a fight to the death with a genuine super-villain. But in the end, she actually got to meet Ryu himself and it was really enlightening. Moreover he disagreed to help her, because apparently he still had much to learn himself given his defeat at M. Bison's hands. One day, though, they would meet again, both of them being stronger. Ryu agreed to train extra hard if he knew that somewhere out there, Sakura was doing the same.
One year later, Dan, wanting to impress his star student, claimed that he knew where Ryu had gone. They entered a fighting tournament together, but things were confusing. It was during this time that while on a visit back home, Dan's friend Jimmy/Blanka sought him out, but met Sakura first. Eventually the Dan and Jimmy reunited and Jimmy became one of Sakura's best friends.
It was during this tournament that the trio succeeded much in their fights. Sakura even managed to defeat Zangief, a legendary Russian wrestler, though it was a close one. However she learned that being a Street Fighter has a tendency to drag one into conflicts beyond what she expected. She didn't realise it, but she was actually one of the most physically capable people in the entire world at this point. Now, all of the sudden she had some sort of responsibility as a guardian of Earth!? She immediately wanted to back out, but Dan and Blanka expressed their intentions to help fight. Some bad guys named S.I.N and an evil robot were trying to take over the world, and Ryu and Ken were leading the fight to stop them. Even M. Bison was getting involved to fight the evil robot guy named Seth, which proved how bad news it really was. Not wanting to let her friends go in by themselves, and wanting to prove herself to Ryu, she agreed to help.
During the battle, she helped their team push deeper into the compound, and she had to admit it was actually kind of fun punching robots in the face. Things weren't as fun though when they encountered the final battle, and the robot named Seth easily swatted her aside. It was the hardest hit she had ever taken and she was knocked unconscious in a massive explosion. When she woke up, she saw that Ryu had actually protected her, and though was unable to stand she witessed Ryu and Seth's epic battle. Eventually, Ryu emerged victorious. He was a strikingly heroic figure and her admiration for him had never been so strong. They have another chat, and as much as both of them would like to engage in a friendly spar, Sakura's injuries were too great. This time, Ryu promised that he would seek out Sakura again at some point in the future.
There were many conflicting emotions, but Sakura was happy to know that she had something to look forward too after her recovery. Eventually, Ryu did come to her house and he actually taught her a lesson and she earned his respect and it was great and it was everything she had ever wanted, and, and, and, and then he was gone again. Back overseas to embark on some other great adventure. And...now what? Wasn't that it? That everything she had worked towards. Why wasn't she...happy? Was she just supposed to...do what?
For half a year after wards she continued her training, constantly improving, spending time with her family. A little sabatacle from the nonsense that had ensued earlier. But now what? What was she going to do with her life? She had so much more time to spend.
She sitting next to her friend Kei, discussing their futures on a swingset at a nearby park. That was when the light came for her. The last thing she remembers was screaming in surprise as she pushed aside her best friend only for that streak of light to consume her instead.
EX Meter: Dealing and taking damage allows Sakura to channel additional strength, power, and speed into an attack. Redirecting the punishment she recieves and the energy of the strikes she deals out into further, more impressive hits.
Strengths:
Mobile: Sakura is light on her feet. Exceptionally so- able to start and stop her momentum on a dime and run faster then most humans can. She is agile and knows how to fall. With her enhanced human characteristics there are few things that can stop Sakura from zipping around the battlefield and scaling climbable surfaces and falling great heights.
Tough: Despite her civilian appearance, Sakura knows how to get hit. Techniques have hardened her body to be a regular taker of damage. While things can still hurt and kill her, she can deflect sharp blades with her bare arms if she has time to react or predict her opponents moves. Even thrown knives, energy projectiles, and fire arms can be thwarted by the young woman's defensive measures. The fighter can be struck many times before she gets knocked down, and she can take more before she stays down.
Ki: Sakura is a self-taught student of Ki. This grants her access to the aforementioned benefits. It is a mastery over one's body, granting one access to almost supernatural powers- but make no mistake, all of these abilities are drawn from nowhere but within herself. Using this ability, she can jump great distances and keep herself floating in the air. With the right breathing and movements her very energy itself can be projected into the environment and strike enemies as a hard hitting, fast moving projectile. Her fists and legs strike hard and true, with power far beyond a woman her size should be capable of. This is the power of Ki, and it requires balance, focus, and determination.
Weaknesses: Self-Taught: It was an extremely difficult and taxing journey for Sakura to learn Ki, but she still has a long way to go. When distracted or tired her more active abilities can fade, becoming inconsistent and weaker. Even by default, her fireballs have an electric tinge to them that speak to her as of yet untapped potential, but as a result travel with less accuracy and with less range then they should. Short Range: Besides her more focused projection attacks, Sakura struggles to deal with people who can consistently keep her out of her range. Zoners! Honest: This may seem like more of a character trait, but in actually it is a weakness of hers. Sakura is an honest fighter, too honest. Practiced warriors can see that she is predictable and susceptible to mind-games and tricks. In a fight, Sakura is readable. Often, in her attempts to become unpredictable she becomes even more so. It is a frustrating loop, and Sakura is as of yet unable to truly surpass herself. Human: Despite her fantastical abilities, beneath it all Sakura remains an 18 year old high schooler. She is capable of great feats of strength, endurance, durability, and power. But all of these things require focus. Were her consciousness or focus to be greatly disrupted some how, her powers would vanish. If something every disrupted her from channeling her Ki, or if something truly took her by surprise, she would have to respond to it how any athletically built 18 year old girl would. Spirits:
None, for now.
Kindred Spirits:
Kei: Sakura's childhood best friend who ended up helping her during her training, setting up various things. Kei supporting Sakura during her training became a favored hobby of theirs, and the two spent many hours training together. Though Kei isn't much of a fighter herself, she did take pleasure in seeing Sakura improve. Kei is balanced, calm, and wise beyond her years while being introverted. In other words, it's the eight miracle of the world that she ever ended up friends with someone like Sakura. But they are, and it's a bond that will probably last for the rest of their leaves, even if as Sakura grew into a young adult she visited her home town less and less often.
Blanka: A big green guy with zappy powers who somehow ended up in the arcade that Sakura works part time at. The two became fast friends. They have sparred with each other and have helped each other when things got more serious. She calls him his true name, Jimmy. Normally people judge him for his unusual appearance, and it's true that he has quite the temper and in battle can really fight like a wild animal, making him seem unreasonable. But in reality he is kind and gentle-hearted, and it is this part that Sakura respects the most and helps to bring out.
Dan: Jimmy's original best friend who knew him before he became Blanka. Dan is, well, other people see him has arrogant, overconfident, bafoonish, oafish, stupid, egomaniac, failure- well, okay, back up a second. While it's true his Dojo isn't the most popular, and his personality can be...boistrous, Dan is good at heart. He sees himself as a father and mentor figure to Sakura, and has genuinely helped Sakura along in her training. The two of fought alongside each other many times and he is simply a fun person to be around as long as you don't take his 'insults' too seriously. Only people with big, easily bruised egos can be offended by Dan, which is unfortunately a lot of fighters. Still, Sakura knows he gets a bad rep that he doesn't deserve, even if he could really learn to cool it once in a while.
Inventory: Student handbag full of school supplies and an extra pair of gym clothes and fighting equipment. Also, a metal water bottle tucked into the fold at the top. Clink!
For who among us has touched the foundations of this world and deemed them solid?
Name: Jesse Faden Game Origin: CONTROL Appearance:
A very red haired woman in her late twenties. Wears an all black outfit. A leather jacket over a t-shirt for tops, jeans tucked into boots for bottoms. She has fair, almost pale skin, and blue eyes. Calloused hands. She has a strong jaw and striking facial features.
Personality: An awkward and weird young woman who's often caught up in her own head. Being a mostly humorless introvert Jesse is perfectly comfortable in her "own" company. Even though she is never truly alone: Her best friend in the world is an entity in her head that can't even talk. Conventional social interaction isn't exactly her strong suit. Jesse is a woman of action, not words. When she is talking to people, it's usually in the form of questions pertinent to the situation. She's someone who has to pretend to be normal. She's polite, humble, reliable, and steadfast. Doesn't have friends, but she has had very likable co-workers.
Abnormal is Jesse's element. She is relentlessly curious. She constantly asks herself if she wants to know, but the answer is always yes. Or rather, she finds out anyway. Jesse is not driven to explain things, but rather experience them. To know about them and overcome them. Bizarre circumstances are where she feels most at home. It feels sane. Or, the right kind of insane.
Jesse is a practical person accustomed to violence, gore, and otherwordly monsters. While she used to be an insecure person, recent self-actualization has bolstered her with confidence. Though she is still no less awkward or somewhat unnerving to be around. Expressing herself isn't something she does often. Especially since she is thoroughly unperturbed by most things.
Beneath it all, Jesse has a good heart and decent head on her shoulders. She wants to protect those who cannot protect themselves. She is a utilitarian. Both of the moral and parantural kind. In the face of the irrational it is important to act rationally. While she's not necessarily good with people she is a team player. She can rely on others and expect them to rely on her. She can trust people, in a professional sense, and she can grow to like people, too. Honesty is something she admires, as well as being...interesting. People with quirks, like her, and who won't judge her for being so unusual.
Because of traumatic events in her past, Jesse hates being gaslit. When people accuse her of lying or say she didn't see what she thought she saw it really gets under her skin. This and Polaris being attacked are the two things that can get a rise of out of the level-headed Director.
Background:
Jesse Faden first encountered the Parantural with her brother, Dylan, as a child. A mysterious Slide Projector allowed the two of them to open up portals to other dimensions. Due to the misuse of this power, and the discovery of it by other, crueler children, the situation spiralled out of control. In a few days the entire adult population of Ordinary, their home town, had vanished. The only reason Jesse and Dylan survived was due to the intervention of a benevolent being Jesse calls Polaris.
A mysterious organization arrived and covered up the entire thing. Jesse abandoned her brother and fled whilst he was captured. She spent the rest of her life on the run, scraping by an existence under the guidance of Polaris. Nobody believed what Jesse said, her mental health very often falling into question. It was all she could think about, paranoia and guilt gripping her entire existence.
Eventually Polaris found and led Jesse to her brother. He was in the Oldest House, a reality bending place that was the HQ of the Federal Bureau of Control. It was under attack from an inter-dimensional mind virus, or Resonance, known as the Hiss. Jesse found herself inheriting the Service Weapon, a powerful item that marked her as Director of the FBC.
After finding her brother and defeating the Hiss, Jesse embraced her role as Director. Now she has reclaimed control over her life and is fully immersed in that world society tried to convinced her hadn't existed. She wouldn't have it any other way.
A year into being Director, the Dimensional Research deparment picked up the largest anomaly in Bureau history. A Threshold the likes of which had never been seen before. The entirety of the Oldest House was shifted into an unfamiliar place, and the memory of the entire staff of this event, including Jesse's, was wiped. But being prepared for the unexpected, the Bureau could tell something was amiss, concluding their own cognitive functions to have been damaged some how.
Due to incredibly hostile conditions outside the Oldest House, progress and research for the first month was slow. They picked up communications from actual civilization from other communities. That was how the Director first heard about the Seekers. Polaris began to indicate that she should travel south, far south, to meet them. It seemed like whatever bizarre stasis the world had been pulled into, the Seekers were the only things making waves. Being uniquely equipped to deal with the enemy outside, the Director ordered the Bureau to maintain lockdown. Then, she made her escape. She travelled a great distance, first by foot, then by car. The rest of the trip was made easier when she hitched a ride on a helicopter afte reaching a populated city. Now she's searching the Sandswept Sky, hoping to find the answers she's looking for. Wouldn't be the first time she did something like this, and she doubted it would be the last.
Specialty: Generalist Level: 1 Experience: 0/10
Powers:
Health Elements: A protective force shields Jesse from harm. Damage still hurts but it allows her to withold much more than a regular person. When she damages enemies, they drop blue crystals that only Jesse can see. If she picks them up, her health bar is restored.
Strengths:
GUIDING LIGHT: Jesse is linked with a benevolent, otherwordly entity she called Polaris. Polaris cannot communicate with Jesse verbally, however their bond is very close. Polaris can silently indicate things Jesse can see. Polaris posseses great knowledge of space, and often helps Jesse find where she needs to go, no matter the distance. She also can point out safe places or objects of interest for Jesse.
CHOOSE TO BE CHOSEN: Jesse is qualified to be the Director of the Federal Bureau of Control. This implies a certain level of strength and potential. She is immune to most attacks on her psyche and mind, including mind control, hypnosis, fear, etc. A stillness of mind that cannot be broken.
This also means she is a Parautilitarian. Objects of Power can be bent to her will, their abilities transferred onto her. This process is facilitated by the Board, a group of beings living in the Astral Plane.
PRETTY DECENT SHOT: Not as fancy as her other Strengths but just as important in her line of work.
Weaknesses:
Energy: Jesse's powers are somewhat limited by her own Energy. If she expends all of her energy, she has to wait five to ten seconds for it to recharge again. It is not linked to her stamina: Using powers will not exhaust Jesse physically or mentally. Nonetheless Jesse's damage comes in bursts. If she mistimes a use of her power she can be susceptible to reprisal.
Basic Physiology: Beneath her thin layer of Resonance armoring Jesse is a human as fragile as any other person. If the enemy can focus down on her or prevent her mobility and damage from coming through, she is quite vulnerable to damage.
Ranged Only: Besides knowing how to throw a punch, Jesse has no martial arts skill. She wants to keep her enemies out of arms reach.
Spirits: None yet.
Kindred Spirits: None Inventory:
THE SERVICE WEAPON: Every Director's pride and joy. A handgun psychically linked to Jesse. It will improve in power as she re-establishes her bond with it. It's borderline sentient, reacting to Jesse's presence. Only the Director can wield it. If anyone attempts to use this weapon other than Jesse Faden, they will experience severe pyschic damage until they put the gun to their own head and pull the trigger.
The Service Weapon is a long barreled, sleek black hand gun. It is made of smooth black pieces of an unknown mineral. It twitches and shifts, made of many disparate pieces, held together by it's own power. It has infinite ammo, only needing to be recharged if fired too often.
Right now it has been reduced to it's basic form, Grip, a versatile and powerful semi-automatic form. It has high accuracy, good range, and good damage. Able to drop an average human in two-three shots, or a single headshot. It fires as fast as Jesse can pull the trigger, which is actually pretty fast. In Grip, it "holds" 15 rounds. As Jesse levels up, more specialized and unique forms will become available to her once again.
When not being used, the weapon vanishes and exists only in the Astral Plane. She can summon and unsummon it at will.
Name: Brooke Everett Age: 29 Gender: Female Role: Crew Member
Specialty: Linguist/Cartographer
Personality: Brooke is a bubbly woman with a passion for exploration and knowledge for the betterment of all. Good-hearted, kind, Brooke enjoys making friends and spreading her own ideas and taking in the ideas of others. It's a shame she's exceptionally awkward and uncharismatic. One would not have to take themselves too seriously in order to become friends with the woman who stammers and gesticulates wildly when trying to express an idea she is particularly invested in. Self-awareness isn't one of her strengths, but she has just enough of it to be embarassed after the fact. Brooke tries to be humble but what pride she does have is easily bruised. She's also a terrible liar and accidentally wears her heart on her sleeves, even though she often tries to put up a facade of being cool and 'scientist-y'. Brooke is insatiably curious and frankly put: gullible. It was this gullibility that allowed her to trust in herself that her grandfather, and Atlantis, was real, and worth pursuing. She has a borderline obsessive nature with the lost empire, and though she has accomplished some tasks in her academic career, the only thing she has ever truly wanted was to find that vanished bastion of civilization that vanished into the sea untold millenia ago. Since she severely lacks people to talk too about the things she cares about, Brooke has developed a habit of thinking aloud, or talking to herself.
This all being said, Ms. Everett is an exceptionally skilled linguist and cartographer. Her lack of tact is not to be confused with a lack of intelligence. It is her life's passion and work.
Brooke has a distaste for violence, and is particularly aware of the flaws of the society she lives in. If anything good has come out of her struggles, it's her deeply burning empathy with the experiences of others. Brooke also is addicted too really likes Cola, reading, playing board games. Of course, maps and languages are pretty great, too.
Brooke is fluent in English, Atlantean, Spanish, and Chinese. She's also basically skilled in Russian, Japanese, Italian, French, and Louisiana Creole thanks to her childhood friend, Penny.
Appearance: Brooke is black woman with a slender, almost-athletic build. Her short, curly black hair is kept up and semi-side swept, though it becomes unkempt quite frequently. She has big, glittering brown eyes, a broad flat nose and full, plump lips that smile easy, revealing her chipped right front tooth. Resting on the bridge of her nose is almost always a pair of thin-rimmed circular glasses that tuck neatly over her small ears.
Her glasses serve two purposes- to help with her short sightedness, and to subdue the effects of her amblyopia, sometimes referred too as lazy eye. When not wearing her glasses, her right eye tends to drift inwards towards her nose rather then agreeing with wherever her left eye is looking. She can still see out of it when it's like it, but it's vision is blurrier and it's much easier to just focus on what her left eye is seeing rather then straining herself to look out of her lazy one. Especially when it's mostly just her nose and whatever the left eye is seeing, but worse.
Her clothes are brightly colored, casually formal and practical. White undershirts underneath red vests or blazers, and tucked into pants or skirts depending on her mood or situation. The scholar slips into heels, pumps, and boots easily.
Other: Brooke's American accent is almost North-Eastern but a little too sugary southern sweet. Brooke is also decent at plumbing, so if this whole cartography thing doesn't work out she'll fall back on that and just be a little bit unsatisfied and bored for the rest of her life, but that's not too bad.
History: Brooke was raised by her grandfather, Raymond Everett, after her parents Raymond Jr. and Patricia Everett passed away shortly when she was a toddler. She didn't know them much personally, but she learned much of them and the type of people they were. Good, hard-working, rebellious and stubborn. The ideal American, the kind so very often disparaged by most of the real Americans. Through stories her grandfather told of her father and his daughter-in-law they seemed to be respectable, loving people. Even though they weren't around to teach her the more indepth lessons of being a person in this world, she looks up to them anyway.
But Raymond was the man who she took after the most, a self-made man born in the Northern United States before the Civil War. The deck was stacked against him, as it were, but he got lucky, and made it work. He taught her often of linguistics and map-making. He didn't push her into it, he didn't even particularly want her to follow in his footsteps, but his passion and love for the subject was contagious. It was his identity, and his smile brightened the room whenever little Brooke dared to ask about the subject unprompted.
Brooke made friends with a little girl named Penny, two years her junior, who moved up North with her family a while ago. They became fast friends, even though they came from different backgrounds, especially when it came to class.
But soon Penny's nomadic family moved again, to somewhere else. Raymond Everett became obsessed with Atlantis, a lost forgotten Empire. He drudged up evidence and books and found the beginnings of the Atlantean language. He needed Shepherd's Journal, but he could never quite track it down. She saw him less and less towards the final years of his life, and though he was a great man, he never could just let it go.
Years have passed since then, and Brooke found herself taking up her grandfather's torch in the field of Academia. Most of whatever money he had intended to pass down to her was gone, or has been spent in the time since his passing. Originally, she planned to not fall down the same trap he did and become ensared by visions of Atlantis. Instead she wanted to study other aspects of those fields and become renowned for her own discoveries. For a while, this was true, but...it was hard not to think about.
So, working as a plumber in the boiler room of a University, she has slowly but surely built a little bit of a name for herself, if not publicly. Since she's technically not really a scholar, her work tends to be co-opted without credit by other members of academia. It has gotten under her skin recently, but she'd distracted herself more and more with focusing on the Lost Empire of Atlantis and cracking the code of the Atlantean language. Within the last year she has finally gotten fluent with it, has learned it's syntax and grammar, and can read and write it. Even her grandfather was a novice at the language, but she had his work as a headstart. Now, she's diving headlong into finally making a name for herself with a discovery that can't possibly be covered up or be taken credit for by somebody else- the discovery of the lost city itself. All she needs, is Shepherd's Journal and-
Oh, boy. Here we go again. This time, though, she'll be careful. Fortunately, it's not like there's anyone relying on her, so no one will miss her if she goes crazy. Plus...she's actually onto something here!
Appearance: Kaylee is a lankily tall woman, standing at just under six feet. She is lean and made of ropey muscle. Her face is relaxed and laid back, and one of her dark brown eyes always seems to be a little more closed than the other. Kaylee usually wears hoodies over t-shirts and jeans, but her favorite top is a black hoodie with a large red arrow on the back.
You transform at will, not just during the full moon Silver weapons ignore your armor Sometimes you lose control while transformed
Corruption Moves: Comes with the Territory - Which if you are keeping your territory safe means you are good at finding who and what you need in your territory. If you arent keeping it safe things can get crazy there. Bloodhound - You are super good at hunting people (and not people down)
Reckless- Even though you act recklessly you tend to avoid serious harm (get extra armor basically)
Gear: > Black and Red Crowbar > Black and Red Motorcycle
Physique Pandora is fair skinned, with bright auburn hair and sparkling orange eyes. At 5'6, 137 lbs, she is toned and athletically built. Not ripped, like a body builder, but certainly buff. Her face is suspiciously beautiful, with flawless skin and divine features. Combined with eye and hair color, she basically looks like a Greek war goddess. It's kind of unfair.
Her choice of cloth varies from "lightly-clothed" to "scantily clad". She is always barefoot, no matter what. Usually her arms, abs, and legs are uncovered, whether it by sportswear or cropped tops. Her outfits project infinite body confidence at all times. She seems like a fake woman some man in a book wrote, who is informal, doesn't wear makeup, and is effortlessly, "naturally", beautiful. Only she's real. Apparently.
Occasionally, one will spot a purplish tint to her body. When she blushes or sweat, it will have a very slight purple hue.
Blood Type P for Pandora. Her blood is thin like water, and is a disturbingly eye-catching shade of purple, like paint. Whenever it touches something it slightly regenerates it to how it once was,be it damage to structure or to organic lifeforms.
Occupation H.E.R.O, ex florist.
Side Hero
Affiliation H.E.R.O
Tier S
Personality
Pandora is flippant, dismissive, arrogant, sarcastic, pretentious, and rude, though she claims everyone else is without manners. She acts disinterested, and believes most people are not interesting. Below her, common...boring. To her the masses are little more than amusing baffoons who wallow in their own mediocrity. Often she goes out of her way to push other people's buttons and make their days worse to improve her own.
Pandora is a perfectionist. Everything must be in order, all must be in it's right place. Especially if it's her stuff. The belongings of her enemies, however, a free reign to destroy. She can be cruel, sadistic even, in inflicting punishment on those who oppose her. The more poetic the vengeance, the better. Her sense of humor is unfunny and bitter.
The redhead is disconnected from her humanity. Cynical and pessimistic to the bone. Not in the interest of making friends. Morality is relative, and no matter what "heroes" do, humankind is just going to tear itself apart eventually. She dislikes the poor, the rich, and the middle class for various reasons. Villains are obviously reprehensible in her mind but the moronic goons sent after them are hardly better, and half the villains of tomorrow are yesterdays heroes, anyway. Pandora finds few reasons to care.
There is one thing, though, that Pandora cannot be flippant about. It's a small thing, one most people could go their entire lives without noticing. She is a woman of her word. She never breaks a promise. Ever. If there is one thing that keeps this long-lived woman anchored to this indifferent world, it's that when Pandora says she'll do something, she will do it. She also really likes plants. They are simple, easy to understand, and are uncomplaining in their casual resilience.
Backstory
Pandora was born in York, England, in 1695. Her name was Mary Madison, and she was a peasant girl who worked in farms and factories. She got married to a guy named Steven Silverstone and had some kids, who had grandkids, and so on. She lived a pretty normal life, retired, and when her husband died she was pretty ready to go, too. But then, the X-200 meteor event happened, and she regenerated to her lost youth and was granted extraordinary power.
Not wanting to go back to the factory, but wanting to support her now extended family, Mary created a pre superhero organization to protect the community from villains and leftovers. SAt that time in York, all superheroes were called Blokes, all villains were called Mugs, and leftovers were called Barmies. She and the Blokes protected 18th England for about twenty years. Eventually it was dissolved as ROYAL came into influence. Everyone joined that, instead, but the Blokes still protected York for free as they always had. They gave her a superhero name, "The Changer".
At this point, Mary Silverstone was starting to outlive people. Including her own children. People generally had kids young in those days, so it didn't take long before they started to pass. This, as one might imagine, was pretty depressing as the full ramifications of being a lone immortal in a family full of mortals began to set in.
Since she didn't need to eat or sleep, or even breathe, because of her new powers, she had plenty of time on her hands and could go wherever she wanted. In her free time, when she isn't working out, she's usually patrolling or travelling, occasionally spending large amounts of time in her hometown of York with her family. The paychecks ROYAL gives her are pretty handy, and since she doesn't really need it for anything most of it goes towards her family.
Since hanging around the house with all the people she knows she's going to outlive is kind of a downer, she decides she wants to travel the world and joins the military. Plus, the extra money will help her family. She fights in some of the wars from the 1800's some people know about, and a lot of the ones people don't really know about. Most of the time, though, she's using her powers to heal, or to safely sink enemy ships. She gets hurt really badly one time, but recovers thanks to her healing powers. Inbetween wars, she patrols England and the countries England has positive relationships with and battles villains.
When one of her grandchildren is killed in a war, Mary Silverstone is hit with a first wave of existential dread and anger. In order to compensate, she dives very deeply into her military role and focuses heavily on her career. She becomes an imperialist. She gets the nickname "The Shark of Crimea" because in against the Russians she used her powers to turn the dirt to water and pull enemy soldiers underneath. For the next half century she goes full warmonger. In the end though it doesn't really make her feel better because her grandkids are just going to keep dying.
She briefly retires from military service to spend more time with her family, which makes her happy. She also returns to hero work with ROYAL defending the homeland. A new global heroing initiative gives her an excuse to travel without having to be in the army anymore. But when the first World War comes knocking, Mary feels guilty and goes to help her country fight the war. World War One really sucks, and is bad for her mental health. Especially since, in retrospect, it was the inevitable result of all that imperialism she was doing a while ago.
World War One is over, and she's glad to hear it's the war to end all wars since war kinda really sucks. More children are born and die. The Great Depression hits the entire world and her family needs money. In order to support them and get away as she so often wants to do, she tries her hand at MI6. She discovers that even though her body is heavily resistance to her Alteration, it's not immune. So she can actually change her face and body a little bit, over time. She assumes the identity Mia Becker and is sent into Germany in the 1930's.
World War Two starts and Mary is a spy in Nazi Germany. She does her best. Unfortunately, her family is killed in the Battle of Britain back home. All of them except a little baby girl named Jessica. If Mary wasn't so afraid of being home all the time and hadn't run off to be an exciting spy, maybe they'd still be alive. That sucks. Also, Mary is discovered as a spy and is shot in the back of the head, but because of her weird goo body she manages to escape anyway. She kind of disappears into her role as Mia to escape from her grief and kills a load of fascists. She loses a lot of faith in the government and everything. So far all this warring she's been doing has just lead to more war. The people in charge are clueless and the people not in charge are sheep. So she kind of hates everyone except her family and probably has PTSD. She changes her face back to normal.
Post war she still is technically a part of ROYAL and contract and consults for them part time. You know, when some loon wants to blow up the whole island of England she pitches in, or if someone is in York, she pitches in. She travels the world still, helping where she can. Again, she doesn't really have much else to do in her mind. As much as she wants to be there for Jessica, she just reminds her of all her loss and the loss that is yet to come.
In the 60's she becomes kind of a weirdo public figure as she embraces her nihilism and becomes a publicly bisexual weirdo hippy sexy girl who talks about how meaningless everything is and makes fun of everyone. Also casually lending her support to civil rights, because even if it will all eventually fall apart at least people could die in vain trying to do good things rather than bad things. Or something like that.
In the 70's she kind of puts her act together for the sake of Jessica's new family. She has a son named Todd. At this point she's still travelling the world and heroing it up in some of the worse off places in the world, but she knows that she can't really make that much of a difference. No matter how many houses she Alters into existence or how much water she cleans or how many publicity photos she takes, these places aren't going to get much better. They can't. Nothing can get better. Ever. But still, if she's going to do anything, it might aswell be nice, and finding new places of the world and learning new things is still kind of interesting.
This continues into the 80's. She's still technically an active member of ROYAL. Between travelling and visiting home, there isn't much to say about this decade besides the slow decrease of her heroing activity.
It's the 90's. Eventually Mary gives up entirely and resigns from ROYAL officially, being it's longest serving member in history. But everything ends. She spends time with her family, and still travels, and still helps, but she doesn't really fight anymore unless someone is literally trying to blow up the area she's currently in. There's plenty of heroes to fight for this stuff, let the new blood take care of it or die trying.
2000's. Jessica's son Todd marries someone named Cynthia, and they have a kid named Rose. Things are looking up for her little family, and Mary still kind of hangs around. Cynthia is kind of a superhero geek and gets Rose into that sort of thing.
2010. Jessica passes away. At this point Mary is a full on cynic and only really cares about her family. The rest of humanity doesn't really matter anymore.
2011. It's been a little bit since Mary saw a Silverstone child die, but it looks like that was about to happen with Rose. She has a particularly bad form of leukemia, and there isn't much on Earth that can stop that. Her Alter powers can't fix it. It's an intrinsic disease to her body.
2012. Todd and Cynthia die in a car crash. Mary wonders if her family is cursed.
2014. Rose passes away from her disease. She asks Mary to become a superhero again. The kind that battle bad guys, put out fires, and stop car crashes. Pinky promise. Mary wonders if she can keep that promise. She wonders if she's worthy of it.
2021. With the Silverstone bloodline coming to an end, Mary decides to finish the job in a way. She needs to get away from it all and start fresh. Maybe then she could keep her promise. Mary fakes her suicide. It's a symbolic and internal gesture to herself, and she really wanted to put a pin on the entire story of her life. In her mind, Mary Silverstone didn't really deserve to live. So she did the face changing trick again, and created a new identity; Jane Smith, using her skills she picked up in World War Two as a spy. She asks, though, that people call her Pandora.
2033. She spent a few years building a life for herself in America. Cheating a little bit using her abilities secretly to get more money. But she really wants to keep ICOSA off her back until she makes the decision to get back to it, to keep her promise. Eventually she moves to Castleburg and open's up a flower shop named Pandora's Potts. Now all that's left is to actually get back to it, but she's not really sure if she has that kind of willpower anymore. Ten years pass easily when you live as long as Pandora. Eventually, though, she will be drawn back into the HERO life one way or another. It's only a matter of time.
No, seriously, the reading time is 50 minutes according to Word Counter.net. It's not even that good of a read. Really it's just for me to get into the mindset of this character and court a general path through her life. You know, instead of leaving it blank. But since this is supposed an omniscient retelling so it would be bad if I just, you know, didn't include it.
Mary Madison was born January 5th, 1695, in York, England. Her mother, Maud, was a house wife as most were at the time, though her timid attempts at cottage industry almost made her more than that. Her father, Paul, was a farmer in her early life. She had three brothers and two sisters. Only the eldest sister, Susan, remained alive by the time Mary turned 16. They were a lower class family, living on the outskirts of York on a small farm. Eventually, her farm failed. The Industrial Revolution was right around the corner, though the big cities were already beginning to industrialized. Living so close to York, Paul and Maud decided to move the family into the big city so he could find a job. Unfortunately, neither of them were quite away that their children would have to get jobs aswell, ones more dangerous and grueling than subsistence farming or sharecropping. Mary and Susan were 14 and 16 respectively, and her 12 year old brother Mark was still alive at the time aswell. Together, Mary, Susan, Mark, and Paul, all went to work at the big textile mill. That was when Mark died, the only Madison child to die in his childhood not from disease but from hazards in the workplace. This was simply how life was. Mary was expected to be accustomed to loss, and she was. As much as one could be.
Social mobility was virtually non-existant. A born peasant w expect to die a peasant. There were few misconceptions about becoming rich with a stroke of luck at that time. Mary was used to it. It was fine. She enjoyed playing games with her siblings, and though she missed them dearly the memories they gave her during her formative youth were not easily forgotten. Mary and Susan would forge a bond that would last the rest of their lives. Mary was an upbeat young woman who counterbalanced Susan's more sardonic tendencies. They made a fine pair and would joke with each other often. Susan particularly enjoyed picking on Mary for her obsession with keeping flowers. Any old flower or weed, Mary would try to capture and keep alive. It failed more often than not, but Mary would keep trying until eventually she got it right. Mary dreamed of selling flowers to people in the big city, but a textile worker like her would never own a business.
1711. Mary met an older boy named Lao Peng when she was 16. He was 17, and on vacation in England from his homeland of China. One of the first of his people to ever visit England. He was rebellious, and was exploring one of the textile mills when they came upon each other. He was chased away when the master of the mill caught on to his lies of being a "foreign health inspector" but he promised they would meet again, and he would take her to Beijing. They never saw each other again, but that was a fond, mysterious memory Mary reflected on often. It was strange to see someone so different from somewhere so far away. Exhilarating, in a way.
1716. After a long youth of labouring, crafting, and dreaming, it was time for the 21 year old to get married. Children had to grow up fast in those days, and though she maintained some of her happiness, the spark of innocence had long been crushed within her by the toil and suffering of her life up until that point. A poor woman, lowest on the totem pole except for the imprisoned slaves brought over from other lands. Mary was far too focused on her own survival to even worry about the atrocities of her mother nation. Like most people of her class she was proud of being English and had little choice other than to believe the upper class that the pillaging of other nations really was for the best for everyone involved. She could hardly even read.
She caught the attention of a man named Steven Silverstone. The grandson of a failed noble family, thus the extravagant name but ratty red shirt. Or, so he said, anyway. He was a storyteller, and could read very well, so Mary was inclined to believe him, naive and starry-eyed as she was. Oh, how he waxed poetic about her youthful charm and natural beauty. Susan, of course, didn't buy into it for a second. Her second husband (the first had died from influenza in 1712), Clyde, was a plump butcher who worked in the meat factory. Everyone worked in the meat factory. He was gruff, stoic, and worked to support Susan and her incoming children. Not a dandie like Mr. Silverstone. But Mary believed Susan was just jealous because her husband wasn't as handsome or as interesting as hers.
Truth be told, it was a facade. Steven just wanted to impress someone, and this inner city brown haired girl with dust on her face and a twinkle in her eye was just the right person to do it. So he lied, and they got married.
He tried to do right by her. He was the one that taught her how to read, when he wasn't getting frustrated and hitting her. Mary had expected this. Her dad hit her mom, and Susan's husband hit her. It was just the thing to do. The cultural norm. No reason to get too upset about it. Steven was nice most of the time, and the love there was real, even if the naive wonderment of this silver-tongued bard had long since worn off.
1720. When Mary Silverstone was 25, she and Steven had their first child, Charlotte. A sweet little girl with a bad habbit of lying. Two years later, she had Robert, one year after that, James, who died. It was normal. It was expected. But even back then, Mary's soul knew it wasn't right. That her living situation shouldn't be this bad. But there was nothing to be done, no solution presented. Grin it and bear it. Her soul was always slowly withering, but Mary could still try to find peace and joy. Three wonderful children, two of which survived to adulthood. Mischevious children. Mary quits her job at the factory and becomes a stay at home mom. Steven continues his work in manufacturing, making enough money to support all of them and their little house. Just enough. The factory helps to support their family with loans that keep the Silverstones in their debt, but no matter. It's either that or starvation.
1726. Mary's parents pass away. Paul from an accident in a factory. Maud from disease, or a broken heart. Susan's second husband dies the year after that, and she remarries the year after that to a man named Gregory, who is bland and safe and sturdy. When they meet, he brings bread. Mary and Susan still swap stories and catch up, they both live in the same town and are now both stay at home mothers.
1736. Mary is 41, her eldest is 16. Everything is the same. She's content, if bored. Safe, if drained. Happy, but...sad. In a way that's hard to put into words. In a way that was universal then, and much too common now. The feeling of making do whilst underneath a stone ceiling so low, one has to be prone. To smash it would be to just break one's knuckles. Best to just warm herself by the fire.
1746. Mary is 51. Grandchildren. Cute little babies her daughter and son bring to visit, with their son-in-law and daughter-in-law respectively. The family grows. Innocent and curious, the joy of new life invigorates everyone. Steven and Mary are proud. How can they not be? Their lineage is passed down. The lineage of their forebearers before them. Robert's son is named Paul, after her grandfather, and Charlotte's daughter is named Maudette, after her grandmother. It's enough to bring someone to tears. None of Susan's children have children, be it by choice or by simply not living long enough to do so.
1756. 61. Time flies. Susan passes away. Her only living child moves to America. Mary has never missed anyone as badly as she did her older sister. Gregory still brings his bread, and visits her grandchildren. Gregory is a good man, though he and Steven don't seem to get along very well. Usually Gregory and Mary talk, and Steven and Mary talk, and Gregory and Steven talk about Mary, but they never talk to each other. Maybe they're just too different, Mary wonders.
1766. Whatever happened to the florist? Mary sometimes thinks she's a different person than she was before. 71 years old. She has great grand children now. Maudette with Dave and Charles, and Paul with Maggie. It's a beautiful thing. Mary Silverstone can only imagine how far they will go. If she can be content with anything, it's that she fulfilled her duties as a wife and grandmother. She raised them right. Charlotte and Robert, her little girl and her little boy, liars and schemers both, clearly taking after their father. In a good way. The kind of lies you could never stay mad at. Now, all grown up, grandparents themselves. They were more successful than Mary was and their children mroe successful than them. One advantage of everyone having children so young is seeing the family tree grow and blossom in one's lifetime. It was a blessing.
When Steven died that year, she was at peace. She would miss him, but she knew she would reunite with him soon, in the next life. The great grandmother knew she would pass peacefully in a house full of people that love her. She never knew her own grandparents, but she was able to be there for her own children, their children, and now, the little babies.
The year is 1769. It will soon be seen that one flower on the family tree will refuse to wither. Mary Silverstone will have to try to find the value of an apple that does not fall from the tree at all.
1769. The year that everything changed. The year that, more and more as time has gone on, Pandora wished she never lived long enough to see. Pandora does not wish for death, but sometimes, she wishes she had died.
Where she lived, nobody knew about the meteor. Mary Silverstone wouldn't find out about it until later. Whoever was in charge decided it was best nobody knew about the end of the world, lest looting and disruption of the peace occur.
So when the coughing started, Mary assumed that it would be the illness that killed her. She didn't plan on fighitng it. She was old, and grey, and frail, and had lived a good life. So she closed her tired eyes and waited for the end. But the coughing didn't stop. She became less frail, finding the energy to not slowly stagger out of bed but rather climb out of it as if she was 60 again. The coughing got worse. Things began to get more strength. A week past. Now, it wasn't as if she was 60 again, she looked like it, too.
The nature of her transformation was an unpleasant one, and thus will be ommitted from this biography. Let's just say the children had to be kept out of the room, and Mary needed to make room for her new anatomy somehow.
But within a matter of months, when Mary looked herself in the mirror, she did not see the gray, thinning hair of a proudly resigned matriarch, but the full, brown, shoulder length hair of a young woman in her twenties. Full of life vigor. She could walk freely, even healthier than her own children. It was a miracle. It took long time for the implications to set in.
News of superpowered heroes had become commonplace, and Mary Silverstone assumed her vigorous health was the extent of her powers. She used them to the fullest, playing with her great grandchildren in the yard. Throwing them up in the air. How was it not natural for her to enjoy her renewed youth? It certainly was a change of pace. It was enough to make the grumpy old woman a starry-eyed girl again. Mary Silverstone didn't need to eat, sleep, or drink. She was full of...emotion! A spirited persona that had long since been crushed out of her, and it was contagious to the rest of the family.
Only one problem. She would have to come out of retirement. She was of prime working age again, and there was still a family to support. Even though she tried to argue that since she doesn't need food or water or sleep that she's basically the perfect roomate, her children guilt-tripped her into finding a job. It was the right thing to do, after all. Mary dreaded returning to the factories more than she realised, but fortunately, that wasn't to be the case. For she discovered that reverting to her early twenties in perfect health was only the beginning of her abilities. When she accidentally turned a wooden spoon into a floppy, gooey stick. Dropping it in surprise, it hit the ground only to shatter, as the now freezing cold wooden floor consumed and broke the spoon instantly.
It took one year for her to get her powers under control. The ability to Alter. As more and more powered people revealed themselves, it became quite clear that she was extraordinarily powerful. Some people could bend a single element, like water or fire, or could even generate it from their bare hands. Others still could fly, or teleport. But Mary could touch anything, anything at all, and bend it to her will. She practiced day in and day out, hopeing to use it to avoid going back to the factory. She had wasted away her entire first youth in those damn things. God forbid she would waste her second youth, too.
1770. 75 years old, but with the body of a 25 year old. A healthy 25 year old, too, not one who had labored in the heat in the sun and of factories all her life. With hindsight, all the insecurities she may have had about her appearance back in the day completely vanished. She looked good. Her gaunt cheeks had filled out, so had her abdomen. She was still a bit lanky-short. Her strength had returned, though, even greater than before because there was no malnutrition.
The question is, what to do now? Having this much power was cathartic. It made her angrier at all she had lost, and grateful for what she still had. All she knew was, she wasn't going back to the factory. She would find a new job, a better job, and hopefully lift her family out of poverty.
The first thing she did was go around repairing people's damaged houses. It was very easy and safe to do. Sometimes she made mistakes and the building collapsed, but she could repair even that, too. Every time she did it, she got better at it until it was second nature. Cleaning up people's houses was nice, and though she usually refused payment, occasionally she accepted it. Her family was happy to just let her do her thing, but she really wanted to start making money for them, somehow.
She discovered her ability to heal when a factory worker had his arm chopped off by machinery. It took a bit of doing, but she managed to re-attatch it good as new. It was her first use of the Restoration ability, and the manager of the factory paid her a pittance for her duty. This made her angry for reasons she couldn't quite explain, but at the time she had to leave because she needed to go throw up due to the sight of a dismembered arm. Despite all the death and horror she had seen in her life, stuff like that would still take some getting used too. That was when she discovered she only threw up purple space goo, now, though slightly transluscent. When she exerted herself, she still sweats, and it's mostly see through, but sometimes it's a little bit purple.Very weird. So, apparently she still needs to maintain some kind of body temperature, though she has much more resistance and stamina than before. This discovery prompted her to begin working out. She wanted to do something in the long night hours, instead of just forcing herself to go to sleep anywhere (the best superpower of all by the way, sleeping on command). So working out would have to do. She would have to consume more energy to do so, so that was when she discovered she could eat grass now, or even just plain old dirt, if she Altered it and consumed it directly via her abilities.
She was naive and wide-eyed, ready to take on the whole world. The florist was back. A superhero. One of the first ever. Mary Silverstone was a generation one superheroine. So early, they didn't even have superhero names back then. People just called her "Mary Silverstone", since Mary didn't even think about concealing her identity. It was also pre-hero organization of any kind. It took fifteen years for them to have any kind of influence over the people of York and the surrounding population.
Leftovers and villains were abound, so Mary, being the most powerful hero around, and the oldest and the wisest, put together a loose coalition of powered individuals. One kid who could control water suggested naming it "Blokes Wot Protect York Town" as a joke and it kind of stuck. The Blokes were created, and Mary was the leader. Two years into her career, Mary took down and defeated her first supervillain, who ended up being named Craig Brindley. He didn't have a villain name, he just put on a mask and started mugging people. His power was a simple one, super strength and super durablity. Fortunately, he was no match for Mary's power. She just ended up burying him up to his neck in the street by turning it to cobble stone. Then she softened up his skin and muscles to get rid of his powers and the coppers took him away.
Back in those early York days, it wasn't Heroes, Villains, or Leftovers. It was Blokes, Mugs, and Barmies. Even though Bloke usually meant men, in this case it adopted a gender-neutral meaning. Like calling someone 'dude' or 'man' today.
The first ten years of her career as a member of the Blokes went well. Those were the golden days. They improved living conditions for everyone in York, protected the innocent from Mugs and Barmies. Unfortunately, there were many systemic issues that even superpowered people could solve. At the time, though, Mary was mostly blinded to those injustices and the Blokes settled for maintaining the status quo. History may judge them harshly (Pandora certainly does), but at the time a greater moral perspective was hard to grasp.
Twenty years past. 1790. At this point, the implication of her agelessness had finally, finally set in. Her children were almost the same age that she was, now. Charlotte's husband had passed away from old age. There was a lot of grieving, a lot of bitter tears, as Mary Silverstone realised she was going to watch her children die. The extra years granted to her by her powers was going to come at a terrible cost. She had great, great grandchildren now, cute little babies. Richard, Timothy, Agatha.
In the superheroing world, ROYAL, a government initiative to help maintain and manage superheroes on behalf of the King, spread it's influence from London and took over York. After twenty years of protecting York, the Blokes were disbanded. Some retired, but most, like Mary, joined up with ROYAL to continue the work they did. With it, they brought ranks and new terminology. Mugs and Blokes were no more, now it was Heroes, Villains, and Abnormalities.
There was talk of using ROYAL to take back the colonies, but it was nixxed. During the American Revolution, soldiers who had powers were just kind of stuck in with the rank and file and expected to use their powers when appropriate. No one was really sure what to do with them. Now, though, everyting was sorted, and superhuman based warfare was starting to really kick off. However, since the Yanks also had their own powered individiuals, and had already entrenched themselves as a new nation, it still wouldn't be worth the effort to take back the Colonies. They could take back the Colonies, of course, but the Yanks fought dirty and it would be too expensive in lives and money to do so. So, they'd let it go.
1800. The dawn of a new century. Charlotte is the first Silverstone child to die, but she wouldn't be the last. Looking back now, Pandora knows she should have seen it coming. She should have seen it all coming, but at the time, Mary didn't want to think about it at all.
Mary had thirty years of superheroing experience under her belt, and quickly garnered respect in the ranks of ROYAL. Most people with that many years were on the way out of frontline combat, but Mary was 100 years old and looked like she wasn't a day above 21. At this point, Mary stopped keeping track of how old she was. It didn't matter anymore, anyway. They say age is just a number, but for Mary it really was true.
Mary was given her first hero code name by ROYAL: The Changer. Entirely original, for sure, but back then one didn't have to be that creative to come up with an original superhero name. Mary preferred still being called Mary, since that was what she was used too. So the higher ups called her The Changer but her friends just called her Mary. This habit of not really liking superhero names would be one that stuck.
Mary's home life was becoming uncomfortable. She spent more and more time away from the house and her children after the loss of Charlotte, and eventually, Robert. It was too sad to think about. Her grandchildren moved out eventually, so whenever Mary was home, she only had memories to keep her company.
So, she left. She signed up with ROYAL's global heroing initiative and became a hero ambassador.
Mostly she travelled up and down the entirety of England. It struck her that up until that point she had never even left York. She travelled from the countryside and into York, and never left. She'd never been 10 miles away from her birthplace. So this was an exciting opportunity. The world was her oyster.
Mary's first brush with military experience was the Napoleonic War, specifically the first coalition of 1805. It was different from protecting the homeland from domestic threats, but that time under pressure had given her the composure to fight in battle. The Changer was especially useful in Navy combat. Manipulating the ocean currents she could travel under the surface quite quickly. Latching onto the bottom of the ship, she would simply carve away the hull until it was full of holes and leave it to sink.
The first time she ever killed anyone was during these naval battles. Simply put, some of the Yankee sailors drowned because of her efforts. It was an inevitability, and it shook her emotionally when she realised she had killed someone without even thinking about it. Only realising after the fact what she had done. Still, the soldiers thought she was a hero, and the sailors were immensely grateful for making their lives easier, and for saving their lives when they wounded. That much it much easier to accept absolvement. She was a soldier. Still, she preferred saving people with her powers rather than killing them.
Mary Silverstone had her first near death experience during the Battle of Trafalgar. It was the largest naval battle of the Napoleonic War, with Britain battling to maintain control of the seas against a Franco-Spanish alliance. After sinking three ships, she was put out of the battle. Under the hull of the fourth ship, a French hero ambushed her and put a hole through her belly with a narrow beam of energy. The british sailors went to recover what they thought was her dead body, following the trail of purple blood left behind in the ocean. But when they pulled her corpse onboard to find it still alive, they sent her on a medical ship back home to England.
That wound was her first brush with her own mortality since becoming ageless, and it occured to her that the peaceful apathy she felt towards death when she was an old woman had faded. Once again, she was not ready to die. She was afraid of it. She remembered feeling hole appear in her belly, looking down with wide eyes as the inky violet substance inside her flowed out into the water, and she remembed seeing the hero that had ambushed her deaming her no longer a threat as she closed her eyes and went limp before floating back up to the surface. She remembered the fear, and the pain, and the cool ocean water turing warm with her life force. It was a bad moment. One to keep in mind as she went forward into battle. Unfortunately, she didn't get a medal or a stripe for the wound since that wasn't a thing yet.
Anyone else would have died, but it was impossible for Mary to drown. Some of her blood came in contact with a sailors cut hand, and healed it. Mary didn't wake up for six months because of the large amount of blood loss, but eventually the wound sealed itself up. It was a miracle recovery. Afterwards, Mary agreed for ROYAL to draw some of her blood to use as medical supplies, but even drawing a little bit left her woozy, and a useable amount would cause her to pass out for an entire day or even more. Hypotetically it could work, and Mary agreed to some blood drawing anyway, but they could only draw an extremely limited amount before putting her into another coma. Despite her durability, Mary is vulnerable to blood loss. There also seemed to be diminishing returns, where the blood would lose it's healing property if too much was drawn over the course of a few days.
Mary was sent over to fight the Americans in the War of 1812. She helped burn the White House down. That was a strange day. The reasons behind the war are lost to her now, but Mary was mainly there to help the wounded troops, and to do her ship sinking trick.
In 1813, she participated in the Napoleonic Wars. Fortunately, England's involvement ended soon after. The Battle of Trafalgar had secured the British homeland's safety for the forseeable future. Since defense was no longer a concern, and that was the main reason Britain was fighting Napoleon in the first place, Britain decided to let the mainlanders of Europe duke that one out amongst themselves. For the next decade or so she patrolled England, battling Mugs- er, "supervillains", and spending time with her family.
1830. Maudette passes away from heart complications. Mary is crushed. She has been spending more time with her grandchildren, her great grandchildren, her great great grandchildren. There are good times had with her and her adult children. Christmas of 1828 is one she always looks back on, where she discovered her Alteration ability allows her to make excellent food. So delicious, it made Richard cry.
Richard and Agatha with their respective partners worry about the future of their children. Richard Jr. is about 10, and Lilly is 8. Neither of them want their children to work in the factories, not so young. At this point, Mary decided to do right by her great great grand children. Using the influence she has built up over the years as The Changer, she decided to become the poster girl of the abolishment of child factory labor. It was a movement that had long been in the making, but having one of England's most well known heroes lend her name and support to the cause was a boon. She was guilty she hadn't thought of it sooner. It was strange to feel so behind when it came to moral thinking. She hadn't even noticed the abolishinist movement, even though right now it was mostly for economic reasons. Mary decided to focus on doing what good she could do more feasibly, and thus focused her efforts on disbanding child labor.
In 1833, she succeeded. Children were banned from working in factories until they turned 16. The labor rights movement carried over into that of slavery. Mary hopped on the bandwagon and slavery was abolished in the British Empire in 1834. But not entirely gone. Britis human rights abuses in the Caribbean and Africa still continued, but Mary didn't very much care about that. It's difficult to care about terrible things happening on the other side of the world. It's impossible to fight for every single righteous cause at once. There are simply too many. One would go insane. Mary wasn't thinking about that, though. She simply thinking about doing good in the area around her, a mission most superheroes aim to uphold in the modern day.
Superheroing around in England was fun. Something to take her mind off things.
1840. Everyone knew of The Changer at this point. Britain's longest operating superhero of ROYAL. Some were still alive from the old days but almost all of them had retired or taken up office jobs.
1841. Paul dies. Both of her grandchildren are dead. Mary finally beings to reckon with the nature of her immortality and is stuck with a deep depression that lasts for five years. She battles evil much less often.
1842. Richard dies in war. Perhaps instead of directing the blame towards rampant British imperialism creating wars all around the world, she grows angry at the rest of the world. Her depression and exisential dread turns to misdirected rage. No longer is The Changer a reserve troop, a volunteer, an auxillery force only used situationally. No longer does she prefer to do tricks and stay on the backlines. Infact, The Changer is no more. For the rest of her life, Mary Silverstone will be better known as The Shark of Crimea.
The next fifty years are somewhat of a blur. Pandora regrets most of her life. The naivete of her past self. How she did not see what was obvious for so long, and when she did, she resorted to rage and nationalism. When she tried to reconcile for her deeds, the vilest parts of humanity revealed itself. When Mary broke and loathed humanity, and herself.
That is ahead of us still. Now, Mary Silverstone runs from her feelings and herself, seeking comfort in the throes of nationalism and war. A comforting cause to fight for. No worrying about morality or action. Where there is only two teams- the enemy, and the British Empire.
Until 1853 Mary travelled around the world on trading ships, protecting the British East India Company's poisonous trade routes. There were many wars to be fought. Mary was relegated to healing roles, but she desired more.
Mary was also given official military training. She had gone to bootcamp in the past, but her training was outdated. Now that she was going into more traditional combat scenarios, she would need to prove herself. Normally, women were not allowed on the field, but even the sexist culture of the day recognized the value of powered individuals, regardless of their gender. It would be foolish to deny them. However they were not permitted to take on leadership roles. But an exception was made for Mary. She was incredibly demanding, leveraging her clout and experience in order to get what she wanted. Mary wanted to be in charge. She wanted to lead charges. She wanted respect, and power. She wanted to serve her country, to get revenge on the world for Richard. Also, soldiering paid more than ROYAL work. Significantly more. Be it salary or rewards from stolen goods. That money would entirely go towards funding her family and increasing their social status. To give them a good and happy life of luxury. It's possible for greed to come from love.
Mary wanted fulfillment. She needed something to fight for, something real and tangible. Even if it was only as tangible as invisible borders drawn on maps. Maybe this would actually accomplish something. No more fighting crime, only for another villain to pop up later. No more worrying about whether or not she was doing the right thing, or if she should focus her do-gooding elsewhere. Now, she could recieve and execute orders as she saw fit.
Mary learned how to fight. She learned how to shoot, how to lead, how to fight with a blade and read a map and ride a horse. It came naturally, she was determined. In few years she became a true blooded officer of the British Empire. Captain Silverstone, leader of the 24th Cavalry Platoon. Her soldiers loved her. She was one of them, a hero of the British people before even joining the army. Any time they recieved a mortal wound, as long as they could hold out long enough for Silverstone to arrive, all would be well. Silverstone always lead the charge, never commanded it from behind. She was kind, but authoritative.
This was the structure Mary needed. The immediacy of an objective. To ride into a battle where those you call friends may die at any moment is a relief, opposed to watching your children age and die while you remain the same. Mary was resolved of moral responsibility by her uniform. Once again she could focus on helping those around her- her platoon. Unlike the endless crusade against evil the Blokes had undertaken, Mary would know victory when the British flag rose on the enemies capital. She would know love when she returned home to an adoring public. How could she be wrong, when so many people believed she was right? This is what she was born to do. Richard's death had been the wake up call she needed. Not to serve some fake, ethereal ideal of "goodness" or "justice". Not to parce out what was right and wrong from some made up morality or the pages of religious text. But from orders, commands, and from her country. Black and white, good and evil, winning and losing. That was all that mattered.
The Shark of Crimea was born in the Crimean war, one of many Ottoman Wars. The sparks were lit over religious conflicts and border skirmishes. It was time for the imperial powers to set things right with glorious, beautiful war.
This was when Mary discovered her most powerful technique. The full implications of being able to turn the ground she walks on into water. She could provide her platoon with cover on the spot, raising the ground infront of her lines as they reloaded. Wounded troops could be brought back into the fight on the spot. Enemy super heroes hardly stood a chance. Enemy cannonballs would freeze in midair and be tossed back at the enemy at high velocity. She and her platoon marched across the Crimean landscape, winnig victorys and capturing and killing their foes. Around her horse a high pressure wind would deflect bullets before they could hit her, or her magnetized blade would snap to the bullets coming her way instantly and slice them out of midair.
Her superheated sword would cut clean through any enemy super attempting to take her on in 1 on 1.
Perhaps there was a mistake in the orders. It looked like suicide. Her and several other cavalry platoons were ordered to charge across a valley while enemy artillery were pointed right at them. It didn't make sense. But she planned on completing her mission. In what is known as the Charge of the Light Brigade in our universe, became the birthing place of the Shark of Crimea instead, an event in which songs were sung and ballads were created. There's a statue of her still up in her hometown of York to this day.
Captain Silverstone decided to tell all her troops to hold back, and convinced her fellow captains to do the same. She was going to do the charge on the enemy position on her own. She assured them she was confident in her ability to do it by herself. She knew how to get there.
As her soldiers looked on, Mary Silverstone waded into the grass as if it was an ocean shore and vanished under the surface. She didn't need to breathe. Turning the dirt and rock into water was easy. She could manipulate the newly created water's ocean currents like she did in the naval battles to speed her up. If she traded permanance and range for speed and control, the technique was doable. Mary was travelling in a bubble of water, a one woman marsh that travelled through the valley in a 50 foot radius. It was invisible until it was too late, when she had already surpassed the minimal range of the gatling guns and cannons.
On the other side of the valley, captains watched through telescopes as cannons and gatling guns were swallowed by the watery earth. The Russian troops saw friends and allies fall beneath the ground. Their musketballs and rifleshots shattered upon the surface tension of the water. Once they were pulled underneath there was nothing to do except drown or be cut into pieces by a superheated sword. Bodies bubbled to the surface, bobbing in the waves of wet grass. Men were trapped underground as they left the radius of her marsh, embedded in dirt and stone.
Mary could make out the murky shapes of her enemies through the water above her, but the enemy could not see her. Even if they could, it wouldn't matter. Survivors of the attack and spectators from British forces remarked her shimmering, white hot blade breaking the grass-water as she occasionally went closer to ground level to slice a cannon in half or buckle the knees of an enemy horse. The curved white sabre was compared by a particularly poetic captain to a shark's fin. A terrifying warning of impending doom, that was horrifying when you saw it, but even worse when you couldn't.
It was a massacre. There was an enemy hero who could fly. When he realised what was going on, he tried to save his allies by pulling them away, but he didn't have super strength. He was a scout and a bomber. He made a mistake when he tried to rescue his commander, who Mary had pulled only halfway under as bait. Made it look like the panicking horse was somehow resisting the pull of her marsh, even though she could easily pull it under. Afterall, no one knew the true nature of her ability. So when the flying Russian hero went to save his commander, the muddy earth swelled and swallowed him, and he was gone. The rest were easy pickings, it was a massacre. The British cavalry took the strategic foothold. Mary herself wasn't sure how many men she killed the day. A muddy red blur. Given the average size of a platoon, and how many were holding that position, she estimates it to be well into the triple digits.
When she emerged, there wasn't a speck of dirt or dust on her. Clean as a whistle, as if she had just done her laundry and was getting dressed to recieve the medal that honored her services.
Queen Victoria remarked that Mary had personally killed more people that day than she had lived in her long life. Almost two hundred years later, that still holds true.
1860. Life expetancy has gone up, but the inevitable finally occurs. Another one of her great great grandchildren, Timothy, passes away from a stroke. Hopefully him not having to worry about the financial future of his family spared him stress in the end. Hopefully she had given him something to be proud of, and the safety in the knowledge that Mary was protecting his family. Lilly is a beautiful 28 year old woman and Richard Jr. is growing up to a handsome young man. Both of them are waiting to have children longer than usual, which is good.
1861. The American Civil War starts. While initially she was under the impression that it had nothing to do with England, Mary travelled to Liverpool to help build shapes for the navy. One of her many low-effort activites has a member of ROYAL, putting her abilities to good use in a low stress environment. But someone let it slip that these ships were actually headed to Georgia to support the Confederate slave state currently rebelling against the North. Mary watched as the ships she helped constructed sail away to fight for an evil cause because the cotton trade was worth more than human lives. Mary put it out of her mind, not sure what to think. She simply quietl withdrew from that assignment. When President Lincoln emancipated the slaves, the assignment stopped being available anyway. Britain supported the good side when the money wasn't in it anymore. The risk of upsetting the populace outweighing the potential gains of purchasing forced labor cotton.
1865. Agatha passes away. Was the money worth it? Mary believes so. She has too. Otherwise she would have no good excuse for spending so much time away. Lilly has her child. Lydia. Great, great, great, grandchild.
1866. Richard Jr's wife has a child. Richard the third. Cute little babies. Mary will see them lowered into the ground. It's inevitable. It's all she can think about when she looks at them.
1870. The passion that the Shark of Crimea once posessed faded over time, as even this attempt at finding purpose withered away. Down into Africa, to the East and across the Atlantic she fought war upon war. Victory after victory. More and more indigenous peoples crushed underfoot for money. Little english boys sent to die for no good reason. Proud, distinguished officers gaining fame and glory for their victories. Of which she was one. One could tell just by looking at her that the spark had gone out in her eyes. The Shark grew quiet and sullen. Inspiring via her stoicism and front line presence, but certainly not her charisma. Not anymore.
1880. Boer war. Another british colony lost. Even when Mary first got her powers, despite everything she has fought for, the empire is in decay. Not like she much cares about that anymore. In her off time her patrols around England, Europe, North Africa and China grow dull and dissatisfying. The ROYAL global heroing initiative is growing ever more popular, with collaborations between ROYAL and HERO, a North American organization. Everyone is battling super villains everywhere. Somehow, we still find time to murder each other on a grander scale while defending our cities from powered maniacs with ludicrous agendas.
1881. Richard Jr. dies in his middle age, the second Richard to die too young. Mary Silverstone retires from the army entirely, and sinks away from ROYAL as a whole. ICOSA, the ever present survellience force that has been watching her for a majority of her life, notices this and begins to keep track. She's learned almost all their tricks at this point and just lets them do it. If they're afraid this jaded general will go mad and become a supervillain, good. That's kind of funny. Let them be afraid.
1882. At this point Mary forgoes traditional clothing in her attire, beginning her long habit of wearing crop tops. A woman exposing her belly was not technically illegal but it was looked down upon. The Shark of Crimea and the Changer were long gone. It was just Mary Silverstone again, but a weird Mary who on her 5th midlife crisis. Silverstone was odd. It was odd to read, and to see. That the name of a man one century dead was still tacked onto hers. Mary realises how sexually deprived she has been and begins to sleep around. Not like she has to worry about disease. Around this time she discovers she's into girls, too, not just boys. So there's that. Mary very occasionally still heroes around, but rarely solo. Usually she tacks herself onto ROYAL endeavors. They still let her know when particularly bad bad guys are running around, but the general public's adoration and respect has lost her interest. She only fights when all of England, and thus her family, is at stake. Let the new blood sort out the little guys. Her family grows increasingly worried about her. But retirement checks from almost a century of crime fighting is a healthy supplement to their income and allows them more time to better themselves and be granted marketable skills. After all, Mary thinks bitterly, their punishment for not being given the opportunity for bettering themselves should be not being able to better themselves.
1884. This new strange phase of Mary's life lasts a long time. Normally, war heroes are supposed to die of old age or retire in dignity, not hover around and become the weird aunt of England. Mary is still on ROYAL's payroll. Though as more of a consultant and contractor, a part timer. Like before, she shows up to help with major threats, rebuilding, or if there happens to be a supervillain nearby she'll go over and give it a try. Her heart isn't in it, anymore, though. Hasn't been for a long time.
1900. The beginning of a new century. Mary doesn't show up to the family party. Instead she discovers how to use her powers to get drunk again and passes out in a forest for three days straight. When she wakes, she contemplates her life for another day in the forest, not even getting up and hardly opening her eyes. Just staring at the back of her eyelids. People aren't supposed to live this long. She's a wreck, and she knows it. If she doesn't know what to do with herself, how can she expect people to find something for her to do? The forest is pretty, but it's one of the few left in England. Most of them have been cleared out for one reason or another. "Progress" and what not. What a scam that turned out to be.
1901. Mary becomes a lighthouse keeper for a couple years. She visits her family on holidays. They're increasingly worried about her but she's emotionally distant and aloof. None of them know the Mary Silverstone that grew old. As far as they are concerned, Mary has always been there, the perpetual 20 something brunette that pops in and out of their lives and keeps the money flowing. The one who used to make jokes, and was likeable, and wise, or was proud and heroic and stoic, or both, or neither. Now she was just kind of there. There, but not really. She has trouble looking people in the eye. Still she wanders around the world, with no limit to where she can go given her biology. It would only take a normal person 100-200 days to walk from Berlin to Beijing with no sleeps or breaks, which Mary didn't need. She could also travel much faster than the average person's walking speed. Very often, she wasn't even walking, but travelling by train, carriage, horse, or boat. All depending on where she wanted to go.
1905 Lydia has a baby named Juniper. Mary meets and tangentially gets to know the husbands and wives of her various children but she has trouble keeping it all sorted. Nothing more awkward than when your great great great great grandmother in law calls you by the name of a man who's been dead 50 years.
1910. Richard III has a child he named Richard the Fourth. Cute little baby. Despite herself, Mary finds herself playing and warming up around the child. She's always had a soft spot for the children. Even when she wishes she didn't. This baby will be grown up in the blink of an eye.
1912. Mary begins to recover from her depression, feeling better. Reserved, quiet, but not perpetually miserable. She's found peace in wandering, and even stops some minor crimes again. Some people chastise her for abandoning her duties as a hero, but others still say that if anyone is deserving of a rest, it's Mary Silverstone. Besides, Mary thinks, everything's gone well without me. Mostly. There was probably a fire or disease or villain she could have stopped faster but that's true for the rest of the Blokes, and they've been dead for over a century and nobody's angry at them.
1914. She felt up to heroing again just in time, though. Just in time for the big one. The war to end all wars. The Great War. The World War. She regained herself just in time to feel bad at the sight of millions of british lads put on their helmets. For thousands of men and women with their little nicknames and their powers to perk up and seek glory in the army. But she knows it won't be glory. She's seen the signs. She saw them along time ago. There are planes, now. Guns, bombs, and machineguns that make gatling guns look slow. The imperial powers have been at peace for a long time, since after the Crimean war. But it's about to end, and it will end badly. Someone has to look out for them. Someone has to look out for these kids and these old men who don't know any better.
It was time to rejoin the army. It was time to fight in the Great War. Maybe this time, it really will be the last.
Saying goodbye to her family once more, Mary takes up position. The Royal Army and ROYAL both give her permission to retake her leadership role as Captain Silverstone, but she declines. Even then, she recognized the bad place that she was in, but she failed to realise that it didn't really matter if she was in charge or not. Especially not for this war. This "Great" War.
Quickly she was dragged into the vortex of mud and blood. There were so, so many soldiers. British and French alike. No man's land. Mass charges resulting in dying people so far out she couldn't reach them without dragging them under the surface of the ground and dragging them yards and yards back. Wounded people could die from being submerged in muddy waters. The wounds could get infected, which is something her Alteration had trouble dealing with without removing the infected part completely, and how does one remove the infected part of gut wounds? Diseases of all sorts. Chemical warfare. The other ROYAL members brought back wounded troops for her to heal, and the triage did their best. But it was overwhelming. The Great War was a terrible one. It was supposed to be over by Christmas, but she could read the writing on the wall. Either way, Mary Silverstone was a beacon of hope on the battlefield for allied forces. The idea that someone, somewhere, could make all there hurt go away, and could protect them. She ended up caring for these little soldiers boy, only trying to march home. Like she did so long ago. These soldiers were all the same. In their faces she saw the reflections of comrades long old, grey, or dead. The banter, the bravery, the...naivete. Just kids, really. She couldn't stop the war, but she would stop as many as possible from dying. Maybe this was what she was meant to do.
It was hard not to give into cynicism. For every soldier she saved, hundreds more were dead somewhere else. So hard, it was impossible, and she did. It didn't take very long at all for whatever crackling, ashy fire of spirit burning in her heart to be put out once more by the sheer vastness of human suffering on display. How nothing, nothing at all had changed. It had been this way her entire life. The recognition of old friends in the faces of these new soldiers wasn't comforting, it was depressing. It was losing them all over again, and she knew she would lose again, and again, and again. Just like her children. Dave had his great grandfather's eyes.
Mary Silverstone stayed in the auxillery of the war for it's duration. Staying just back behind the frontlines. In a particularly dire situation where the officers could not be dissuaded that charging was suicide, she swam underneath no man's land and disabled the enemy position, drowning the Germans in their trenches. The Shark of Crimea returned to the cheering of the platoon she was apart of, and her gracious smile was hollow and dead. When that officer shook her hand she wanted to grab him by the throat and seal it shut, watch him choke. She hated him. She hated, hated, hated him, for making kill those men. She hated him, and everyone he worked for. The dominoes fell, and a blasphemous traitor was born that day in Mary Silvertstone's heart. That this officer who had the loyalty of his men would send them to die, that the King would sign off on this for reasons beyond anyone's comprehension. She hated herself for practically being that person herself not so long ago. She hated the soldiers for not shooting him in the back and going home, for not shooting her in the back. She hate, hate, hated everything and everyone, and this misanthropic loathing for humankind only worsened overtime.
Still, she stayed. But she was bitter and cold and make cruel jokes at the soldiers expense when they came to her crying. Oh, bay, oh wail, ye poor dogs. But talk. Keep talking about how much you hate the Germans for doing this to you when you are all doing it to yourselves. Your real enemy is in Buckingham Palace, in Parliament. Your real enemy is each other, your infantile machismo pushing each other further and further into action. Shaming one another for not performing the Imperialistic duties. Your terrible mothers raised terrible children. Everything, everyone, is rotten and useless to the core, only causing pain and suffering. There is no difference between England and Germany besides the color of their uniforms and the language they speak, yet they tear, tear, tear each other apart. Mary Silverstone loathed everyone and herself. The only ones spared her bitterness was her family, for base human reasons of love and compassion that Mary knew was hypocritical that only made her hate herself more.
1918. The war is over, and nothing has changed, except millions of people are dead. Soldiers and civilians alike. Everyone go home. Mary returned home even more broken than before, though aggressive and angry rather than apathetic and resigned. Irritable. Only softening around her family, and even then she had to take frequent breaks before she went on some childish tirade about the futility of it all. Like she was the only one to ever have these thoughts. Stupid, stupid, stupid Mary who lived this long only come to this realisation now, and seflish, selfish, selfish Mary who is causing her sweet family to suffer for it but she can't, can't, CAN'T MOVE ON! Because it's going to happen again. Mary spent many days and nights in this loop of negative feedback. Of all the wars, and all the things she had experienced, the Great War seemed to harm her mental health the most.
So, she spent the next years trying to relax. She still had plenty of leftover fortune from her plundering and ROYAL work days. Her successful and long heroing career had granted her that much. Between spending time with her family, she once again began global heroing work. Despite everything, it was what she was good at. It was what she knew. Without it, she was lost entirely. She travelled to impoverished countries and took solace in using her powers for restoration, rebuilding, and creation only. She was tired of fighting for "good" and "noble" causes.
1920. Lilly passes away. Mary and her family grieve and mourn. It never gets easier. It shouldn't get easier. Richard IV and Juniper are cute kids still. Even Juniper, the grumpy teenager, who insists she isn't and is infact, very "cool", which is a thing kids say now, apparently. Juniper seems to both respect and dislike Mary for various reasons. Being a soldier is bad, but wearing crop tops is "cool". Mary likes Juniper a lot.
1930. The Great Slump, or Great Depression, hits England. Suddenly all that money Mary made so long ago doesn't seem to add up to much. Mary tries to find more work with ROYAL, who, after all these fucking years, is of course, still happy to oblige. They have a great deal of respect for Mary Silverstone. The Changer. The Shark of Crimea. But it's what she is good at. Her family desperately needs money. Like everyone else in England, they verge on homelessness. The real money was in espionage. Mary had proven her adaptability in the past. She had the strengths and weaknesses of any young woman hero looking to serve her country at the time. So, she was put in with the other recruits and trained to become a spy. Mary recruited her earnings from this dangerous job were funneled directly into her family's bank account.
1931. After completing her training, Mary discovers a new use for her Alteration ability. People know Mary Silverstone's face, at least enough people it would be a risk. Using Alteration on herself is dangerous, and her body has a very strong resistance to it. However, she can still do it. Thus, she began making changes to her body to aid in her espionage. She started out with something small, something not that big of a deal, like changing the shape of her belly button over the course of a week and then changing it right back to how it was. Somewhere in MI6 head quarters there are precise measurements of her navel in various moments of her changing it, which is a weird thing to think about. Either way, this proved that she could make changes to her body slowly, over time, and restore them afterwards. Thus, she got to work on making herself a new face.
First, she changed her hair color to blonde, which was easy enough. By only slightly uptilting her nose, removing the mole on her neck, plumping out her lips and shifting her eyebrows, she looked like a totally different person. Mia Becker, german native, was born. She learned how to speak German, though she had already picked up a significant deal over the years. Had even read books about it. Plenty of things to do when one didn't need to sleep. She could even alter her vocal cords to assist in her accent and delivery. She was a perfect spy. Of course, that's not exactly true, as one man was a shapeshifter who could change his entire appearance over the course of a few seconds instead of a few weeks or months. So he was better at in than she was, but still.
So, into Germany she went. In disguise as a young woman looking to apply her healing powers. British intelligence was particularly curious about the goings on on a new political power rising in Germany- the National Socialist Party. The god damn Nazis.
Turns out, Mia learned, they were evil. Really, really evil. It took a year to see past all what they were doing to find out they were an authoritarian hate group bent on taking over Germany and then all of mainland Europe. Mia had seen this kind of thing before, though she hadn't recognized it at the time. They were going to start a genocide. Like what happened to the Armenians in the Great War under the Ottoman Empire. This time, against the Jews, Slavs, disabled people, gypsies...everyone. It made her sick. She hadn't confronted something like this before. It was an insidious poison. Somehow even worse than what the empires of the past had done. The things that she regretted. Maybe, Mia thought, she could redeem herself. By stopping this new power from rising, she could balance out the harm she had done to the world with her many conquests. Then, she might have to go after Britain. Somehow. More civil rights stuff, more protesting and activism. She might be more extreme than that, but with her family and identity public, she couldn't put her loved ones in danger like that.
1935. Mia Becker is entrenched in the Nazi political party. Oh, the Heil Hitlers this, the Heil Hitlers that. It was disgusting how much these Nazis reminded her of her younger self. Of the Shark of Crimea. All nationalism and conquering. The racial element never really came into it with Mary, but it certainly did with these people. She slept with some, men and women both. Anything. She wanted, needed, to stop this. Somehow. At least help stop it. Otherwise...another World War. Mary wasn't sure she could handle another World War, so Mia was going to do her part to stop it. She fed intel the best she could in all the ways that she could. Deadrops and secret messages and ferrying people out of Germany and into France and vice versa.
1939. The war kicks off. Richard IV has a kid he names Jessica. Unknown to Mary, he runs off to join the army. Dread fills Mia's heart. It's happening again. Even worse, this time. Humanity learned nothing. She hates the Nazis. When she attends speeches how she just wants to drown everyone. But the Nazis have their own heroes and she would be defeated before being able to do any real damage. She needs to attack them from within. Her time will come.
1940. The Battle of Britain. Her hometown is being bombed. She and many other spies went tried to get word back home as fast as they could...she just hoped she was fast enough to save her family. She wasn't. Juniper, Lydia, and Richard III are all killed in the bombings. Only little Jessica survives, miraculously. In order to not comprimise Mia Becker's value as an asset, MI6 decides not to inform her of these events. Not like they get much of a chance to communicate with her, anyway.
1941. Mia Becker's most successful year of spying. She even pulled off a few high ranking officials without being discovered. It took weeks of planning both times. All she needed to do, though, was find a spot where a german official was, and nobody know that she had been there. Then, she just Altered the officer and the wall, combined the two together, and the body and person vanished without a trace. Being able to walk through any surface made her quite the assassin. Co-ordinating with French resistance also helps massively, with Mia spreading disinformation among German intelligence while giving the French the real deal. She feels very good about herself. Her efforts are making a real difference, she knows it.
That year, she is discovered by the Nazis. The enemy sneaks into her room and puts a bullet into the back of her head, splattering purple blood all over the table. It's heavily disorienting, and she knows her time is running out, but she still manages to escape anyway. She turns the wooden floor of her room into water, causing her and the assassin to plummet to the floor below. Only for that floor to be turned to water, and then the floor after that. Upon reaching the ground floor she narrowed the liquidification effect to only affect herself, so the assassin would hit hard ground while she would splash safely under the surface. Mia Becker vanishes underneath the surface of the wooden floor. With the limited amount of time she had left, she used her powers to find a place to hide that was impossible to find by anyone without omniscient powers. Then there was nothing left to do but wait for her consciousness to fade, feeling the purple blood pour down her face, into her eyes, spitting it out as it dribbled into her lips and drenched her shirt. The exit wound must have been hideous, and she felt it was large. Eventually she slumped over in her little hole. Six months later, she woke up.
Since Mia Becker was ousted, and there was no way to go back undercover, the blonde german girl who was secretly a brunette british girl over 200 years old, fled west into France.
She was put into contact with MI6, where they informed her of the death of her family. They also informed her they had placed Jessica in protective custody. Mary went into a dark place. The telegraph she recieved the news on bubbled into boiling lava. When it was done meltig, Mary was gone. She disassociated. When she looked herself in the mirror, she saw Mia, still. She liked it that way. Sorry, Mary wasn't home right now. Only Mia.
She became a member of the French resistance. There are many stories from this time. Earning trust, assassinating officials, bombing places that neede to be bombed, protecting civilians from retaliation. At the very least, Mary knew her war was just. Despite the evils of all of humanity, including the nations she fought for, the Nazis were the greatest evil of all. With her ability she could travel across all of Europe freely. Mary discovered and liberated one of the more minor concentration camps. True, despicable evil. Finally, she had a chance to stop it. Not support it, as she had in the past. Stop the evilest form of humanity from spreading, corrupting, and destroying. Whoever these people were, they were not worthy of sympathy or understanding as the grey uniformed kids she battled in World War One. None of them deserved to live. Her rage was overwhelming, and as much as she hates to admit it, she took pleasure in their suffering. Seeing the fear in their eyes made her feel good, like it was justice. She discovered a technique where she could grant people immortality on one condition- she combined their form with an inanimate object.
Tying their life forces together, so they would live as long as the boulder or ground existed. But all they could was sit there, as new beings, trapped inside rocks and the mud. Some of them, she assumes, are still alive to this day. Some of them may have been fortunate enough to be destroyed. Without her personally travelling their and restoring them, they would never be free. Even then the process of transforming someone into a rock in the first place must be immensely traumatizing, so they would never be the same. Might aswell just leave them there. This dark, sadistic part of herself once awakened, was impossible to subdue. There is no moral excuse for sadism. Yet, she found herself enjoying inflicting pain on others. Eventually she just accepted it as a new part of herself and moved on, because she was too furious to care.
Mia/Mary spent four years carving a bloody swathe across wartorn Europe, challenging Nazi villains and killing or combining them with the wartorn buildings. Making horrible things of their bodies and leaving them was warnings to their fellows. This extended to the French Police aswell, who had been easily co-opted by Nazi Germany into their tools of oppression once they had taken over. She wondered if the same would happen to Britain had they been easily defeated, and her conclusion was 'yes'. Mary also felt personally betrayed, because she didn't find out about her family's death for almost an entire year. She felt betrayed that they weren't put somewhere safer. She felt betrayed that the only reason she wasn't home, protecting them, was that she needed the money, and this was her only skillset that would allow her to be paid enough money to support them. To fight. To be in ROYAL. It was all she knew. Maybe she should have just gone back to the factory.
The World Wars had broken her faith in systems and made her despise herself and her past actions even more. She wondered if she even wanted to go back. Just let Jessica live her life in England with the family she found, the Browns. Mary would stay Mia, the defecting Nazi, and travel the world killing people who did bad things she didn't like.
1945. Mia found herself liking the ragtag group of people called the French Resistance. They came from all over the world. They died for France, a country that hated most of them and cared for little of them. They were selfless and brave. It was stupid, Mia thought. They should be selfish. They should run and hide, not stay and fight. They don't owe anyone anything. Half of these people would risk their lives for this country that had betrayed them. She hated them for their bravery. They were too good for this world, and that's why she couldn't save all of them.
The war in Europe was over. Hitler had killed himself in his bunker. It was up to the Americans to finish off the Japanese. Mia disappeared over the next few months, Mary restoring herself to her previous form. She returned to York, and would never fight a war again. She visited Jessica in her new home. While technically it was only temporary foster care since the entire extended Silverstone tree had been wiped out by the Germans, and Mary could become Jessica's guardian, she decided it best to leave her with the Browns. Mary wasn't sure she could raise a child again. Jessica could barely remember Mary, anyway. Might aswell let her be happy.
1950. The Cold War is on. The Yanks and the Ruskies are eyeing each other with their big bombs, and at any moment the world could go up in flames like Hiroshima and Nagasaki did. It was strange to think those cities which she had visited long ago were now nothing but craters. Such loss of life was inevitable though, given the twisted nature of man. Mary didn't so much have a contempt for individuals as she much did the very idea of life itself. She tried to put on a brave and happy face for Jessica and the Browns, but Jessica was a baby when the attack happened. Mary was absolutely crushed, whatever pieces of her soul she had tried to maintain was gone. There was a huge family plot of Silverstones that Mary had protected and maintained over the years, and three bloody tombstones had the same date, and the graves were empty because her beloved family had been blown to pieces. Mary fell into the worse depression of her life, which was saying something. The few times she felt better was when she was around Jessica, but even that could make her feel worse. She felt like a fake person.
1960. Over the last decade, her depression has evolved. Her existential dread changed. The civil rights movement and general public awakening to the ideas of morality, ethics, battling against the system has awakened her spirit. She's feeling something again. Even though it's usually just contempt, disdain, and mild amusement. It's one thing to not be able to care, it's another entirely to choose not to care. There was power in that choice. Mary embraced the nihilism of her life, and in turn acquired some kind of spiritual enlightment. She walked around in bikini tops and bell bottoms, with ridiculous sunglasses. Casually battling villains and humiliating them. The 60's was the last decade that Mary Silverstone participated in the public eye. She liked the idea of people looking at and ogling her body. Mary had never stopped working out, and her natural regeneration prevented blemishes. She genuinely looked perfectly beautiful at all times. It made her feel good. She enjoyed being pretty. Perhaps, in some ways, this was Mary refusing to come to grips with her internal struggles. But it was a life. It was something. It was better than nothing. She went around the world, participating in civil rights movements. She walked from Beijing to Berlin, which was apparently a "statement" about race issues, it didn't matter. It was fun, it was casual, and she could still do some good. There was nothing more annoying to Mary at this point than her tendency to do good. She just, did it. If she was going to do anything, it had to be "good" somehow. It was a bad habit, almost.
Somehow, the good-natured girl who just wanted to stay out of the factories and stop people from suffering the way she so often saw people suffer was still in there. Annoying little brat.
1970. Jessica has a son named Todd. Cute little baby. Mary comes over more regularly to visit. During the 70's, Mary settles down and decides to retire from hero work all together. The fun she had in the 60's is over. Hundreds of thousands of Americans are being sent to Vietnam to kill people for some (no?) reason. People are protesting and rioting and occasionally being squashed by the boot of the upper class and she has entirely lost faith. As far as she is concerned, the good fight is over. It's lost. Nothing will ever get better. Every old problem is replaced with a new one. Places like China murder millions for something, famine is everywhere. Many parts of the so-called "Third world" are still in shambles after being ravaged by imperialist powers for centuries. Plague sweeps through various parts of the world. It's all the same. Some places have gotten better, others have gotten worse. There seems to be a total amount of human suffering that never changes. What's the point? Supervillains and heroes smashing into each other, forever. For all time. She's sick of it. Burnt out. Nothing is getting better.
1980. Mary is trying to be a family woman again, but the loss of everyone except Jessica is still fresh. Todd is a smart know-it-all of a ten year old. He's probably going to grow up to be someone. Still no sign of powers. Mary spends travelling the world like she always does, since she has an infinite amount of free time. Battling the odd villain here and there. Just enough to keep Mary Silverstone in the public consciousness, if only barely. Just enough to make it so when she gets mentioned in textbooks that only get updated every ten years, it says "Active" instead of retired. She just can't seem to stay away.
1990. After many years of no contact at all with ROYAL as a contractor and consultant, she officially sends in her resignation form. Hire year- 1781. Resigned-1991. Time flies. A weight is lifted. Finally, she's done. Let the world sort itself out.
2000's. Todd is growing up to be a fine young man. Not much happens this decade except the slow degradation of hard earned liberties. Not like anyone ever put them to much use, anyway, or that they were ever really real. She's surprised America is even still going. Of course it had also been one of the big imperial powers on the block despite apparently having face oppression itself. She reads the news only to be amused by the predictable suffering human life inevitably entails, and to make sure Todd, Jessica, her husband, and the Browns aren't in any immediate danger.
2010. Jessica passes away of a heart attack. Her husband follows soon after. 71 years already? Where had the time gone? Todd marries a woman named Cynthia. They have a sweet little girl called Rose. Cynthia is an annoyingly optimistic young woman who loves superheroes. Mary doesn't spend much time with Cynthia, but Rose is an absolute joy to be around.
2011. Rose is diagnosed with Leukemia. Mary is powerless to stop it.
2012. Cynthia and Todd die in a car accident. Mary takes care of Rose by herself, never leaving her side.
2014. Rose passes away. Before she goes, she asks Mary to become a superhero again, like she used to be. The kind of superhero that fights bad guys, puts out fires, and stops car accidents. Pinky promise? Pinky promise.
With Rose Brown gone, so is Mary Silverstone. There isn't much light left. Nothing except the promise to a little girl.
2021. She decides to make it official. Some of her spycraft from the second world war still works. Crafting a perfect look alike of herself using her Alteration powers, Mary stages her suicide. It was easy to fake her own death. The only way to get a corpse to convincingly die by impact, so she would have to hurl it off a high enough bridge, which she did. Using her powerset, doing the bait and switch was easy enough. She did it when no one was around, because witnessing that kind of thing can be quite traumatizing. She would have preferred to do it some cleaner way but any coroner worth their salt, even with her utterly bizarre biology, would be able to tell if she just shoved some poison in it's mouth or whatever. Her 'body' washed up along shore a few days later, was discovered, and her death was made official.
To the world, the tale of Mary Silverstone is an interesting one. One of the world's first ever superheroes who lived into the modern age. Long enough to see herself become the villain, and then become the hero again. Her actions, heroic at the time, had to become villified as moral thinking evolved. A conflicted and troubled woman who lived a long life. Always acting in accordance to what a hero is according to the status quo. Her old house in York was turned into a museum. Some people left flowers outside it.
A note was left inside her bedroon. "I kindly beg your leave."
Her fake body is buried in the family Silverstone plot. Some members of the public attend her funeral. It is a historic moment after all. On her gravestone it is engraved thus:
Mary Silverstone
January 5th, 1695 - March 3rd, 2021
At Ease
Someone picked the epitaph for her, and she supposed it was pretty good as celebrity epitaphs go. Short, simple, to the point. It contrasts nicely with the bizarrely long life span. It would have been inappropriate to write something like "Taken from us too soon", after all. Her life accomplishments wouldn't be succinct at all, and half of her great deeds were warmongery in retrospect. So, at ease. We understand why you left, and we give you permission. Also a reference to her long history in the military. She thought about that epitaph alot, since it's a new experience that a rare few people get to have.
1942. Mia Becker never found how she was caught, but she was. While she was peforming paper work, an officer came up behind her, placed a Luger against the back of her head, and fired, splattering her purple blood all over the desk. He blinked in surprise as she staggered to her feet, blinking rapidly, purple liquid drenching her pretty face and white shirt. He put two more shots in her chest and she fell to the ground, eyes wide open with a shocked look on her face. Dead, for sure? Not so. Her abilities extended beyond healing, it seemed. Mia Becker's unconscious body was brought to Berlin for further study, that shocked expression frozen on her face. Mia Becker's blood was discovered to have healing properties, and she has been carefully siphoned from. Draw too little, she might heal and wake up. Draw too much, she will die, and they will have no more. Her blood is used to heal high ranking German officers and enhanced individuals. MI6 assumes she is dead, does not inform the public or Jessica, who is currently in a high priority foster family. It was, they feel, the least they could do. People wonder where The Changer, the Shark of Crimea, is now. Fortunately, an entirely new generation of heroes is taking on the Nazis, but some of the older folk still think about that ageless wonder.
1945. Mia Becker's facility is liberated on V-day and she is rescued by Soviet heroes. Her unusual biology is eventually figured out by them. Her unconscious body is ferried too and fro, a mystery to everyone. She spends six months in a Russian morgue alone. Eventually, the paperwork is filled and post war communications gets Mary Silverstone's body back into the UK. They do her the favor of closing her mouth and eyes. The shocked expression made it look like she was dead, which unsettled the nurses.
1948. Mary finally wakes up from the traumatic injuries and blood sucking vampirism she suffered at the hands of the Nazis. Of all that time passing, and watching, feeling, a bullet pass through her skull and out her forehead. They inform her of her familys passing and she goes into shock. A deep despair clutches her heart. A frustration. Betrayal, that she was not informed of this sooner. Hatred, hatred, hatred. At herself, at the world, at humanity for dragging her once again into it's disgusting conflicts. Later she would learn of the Bengal Famine and other atrocities committed by the Allies during the war on civilian populations not even involved in the war. The Nuremburg Trials, and how not every last one of those bastards were hanged. How the Nazis developed their eugenics philosopy from American writing. What they did with it...The Holocaust. Why couldn't everyone stop this sooner? Why did nobody care?
The Holodomor and it's denial by even her own government. The failure of the British government to protect the Irish people over a century ago, and more, and more, and more. She was retroactively disgusted with herself and humanity once more. Furious at her government to lying to her. Moreover, she was crushed that only she and a little toddler remained of the Silverstone line. It was all too much. But she had to be strong. For Jessica. Over the next months she finally got rid of the Mia Becker face that had plagued her so, and returned to being Mary Silverstone. Now only long forgotten photographs exist of Mia Becker deep within MI6 archives, keeping track of the recovery of the wound directly through her head.
Millions upon millions of people were dead. It was even worse than World War One, which is what it was being called now. World War One, and World War Two. She missed it, though. She missed the entire war. She was useless and her family was dead because of it. Of all the things that Mary had questioned over the years, her ability to perform effeciently had never been one of them. But now it was. Mary couldn't even believe she was a worthy protector.
1950. Jessica was doing quite well in her foster care program. She was with a new family that had gotten used to her. A lovely little family named the Browns, all secluded away from all the nasty business down south. Jessica didn't even recognize Mary. However, the Browns were enthusiastic about getting Mary back into her sixth great grandchild's life. They knew a little bit about Mary, and they knew what had happened to poor Jessica. Mary tried to keep her spirits up but ended up visiting very little over Jessica's childhood.
1960. The world is beginning to catch up to Mary's general sense of fashion. Apparently, somewhere along the way, white women earned the right to vote, and now people up in arms about segregation. Civil rights had passed her by since those early days. What a wasted life she has lived, truly. So much experience. So much battle against enemy armies. Thousands of villain defeats under her belt. What had she accomplished? Not much. Not really. Some would disagree and say that she has done a great deal of good whether she acknowledges it or not. But Mary thoroughly believed she had squandered the opportunities granted to her by her eternal life. That nothing she did mattered. It had just been loss and grief and failure all the way down. Mary visits Jessica often. Once again, she patrols the streets of modern cities. The Changer, back in action. Often drowning her sorry with drink and sleeping around with various men and women. Leveraging her immortality for those kind of things was easy enough. Few active people would turn down an opportunity to date The Changer herself, even if it was only for a little while. Mary once again casually hopped onto the bandwagon of doing public good. Whatever. If her name had any weight left behind it she would do speeches and whatnot, whatever, who cares, it's not like she has anything better to do.
When's the next war coming? Mary's heard the Americans used some big fucking bombs on the Japanese. It's only a matter of time until the Yanks and Ruskies blow each other to kingdom come and take the rest of us with it, huh? Mary went full hippy, though she was incredibly nihilistic compared to her drum beating companions. There wasn't an ounce left of will in her body to go fight wars. At all. Instead she showed up to concerts in colorful bikinis and sunglasses. She liked the idea of people ogling and gossiping about her 275 year old sexy self full of purple goo. She liked the idea of this being the new her, not some stoic soldier statue in York but a liscentious retired superhero in kahoots with the fringes of political opinion. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, the tabloids read. Oh, how Mary Silverstone defines the summer of 72's fashion with her stellar beach bod. Oh, it was all so...utterly, meaningless. Life was moving fast, and it was only getting faster. She still talked like it was the 20's. Hardly any idea how to operate televisions or telephones, or microwaves, not like she needed them. Who was Mary Silverstone dating now? Nobody and everybody. End the war in vietnam! Or something. She could only imagine the horrors. Imagine them she would, no way was she going over there. No one was dragging her into a war, ever again.
ICOSA was keeping a close eye on her now. They were worried she was fraternizing with communists and degenerates, which, maybe she was, what's it to you?
Jessica Brown-Silverstone was a fully grown woman now, having recovered from her childhood losses of the Second World War apparently far better than her great great whatever grandmother. Nobody wants to see a relative show up in bell bottom jeans and a bikini top at their work place demanding to see their little Jessica. Mary was still banned from Jessica's high school for that one incident with the school mascot.
While Mary Silverstone was having a great time, it was clear she was on a downward spiral to everyone else. And, she wasn't really having a great time, she was just very sad. So she compensated by experimenting with what cool drugs made her weird body react the weirdest.
1980. After an embarassing two decades, Mary decides to clean up her act when Jessica has a son named Kilroy with her husband, Wesley. Probably start putting on shirts again. Stop poisoning herself with alcohol, maybe me something of a rolemodel. The rolemodel that she certainly wasn't for Jessica. Their relationship is strained and the last thing she wants to do is lose her last family members because of her own stupidity.
Forging a new identity, Mary changes her face, fingerprints, and hair follicles over the course of a few months whilst in hiding. Her new legal name is Jane Smith, but she asks everyone call her Pandora. She moves to America. She's sick of ROYAL. She's going to be apart of the aptly named HERO. Maybe. Pandora makes a little living for herself and opens up a florists shop in Castleburg.
2033. Pandora never joined with HERO. She was content being a florist. Happy to just...be alone. Forever. Mary Silverstone is dead, long live Jane 'Pandora' Smith. The beautiful, enigmatic, cynical florist who lives in a two storey townhouse in Passenger Island. She owns a floral shop called 'Pandora's Potts'. Get it? Like Pandora's Box? As much as she hates to admit it, she's scared. Scared to be a hero again. Scared to start making connections. Scared to come to terms with her promise and what it means for her future. Maybe it would be best just to...fade away into obscurity. Wait from some electrical accident to take her out, or for this agelessness to suddenly stop working. Just take care of flowers for all time.
Power: Alteration
Pandora possesses the abiliy to alter the matter her body comes in contact with. She can use this power on herself, although it is extremely limited, as in it takes months or years for the changes to materialize.
Her ability works on solids, liquids, and gasses, organic and inorganic things. The greater or more precise the change, the more energy required. The effects of her Alteration can transfer from one object too another within limited range, about 50 feet maximum. The farther away the changes are from her physical body, the longer and less effective the changes are. She works best with solids and liquids with gasses nebulous nature making it more difficult to Alter.
Alteration works with almost infinite precision. If Pandora sets her mind to it, there is very little she cannot accomplish inregards to matter manipulation. It comes naturally to her, as if the world itself has become an extension of her will. Changes she makes to things with direct contact of herself happen instantly, and with total precision.
These powers can effect anything her body touches, but they are channeled out of her hands and feet. If she wasn't able to touch anything with those appendages, she wouldn't be able to Alter. This is why she always barefoot and without gloves.
The more types of Alteration she wishes to do, the less effecient is the use of her energy. If she wanted to turn stone into water with one hand, and freeze the dirt around her left foot, that would be difficult.
Sub-Ability: Restoration
Being intune with everything she touches, Pandora can "feel" how things should be. When touching something directly with her hands, she can manipulate the matter of the item into how it once was, and know when it is correct, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. This allows her to heal wounds without making mistakes, and know when a damaged building has been repaired to the fullest.
Alien Biology:
Pandora's body was changed a great deal by the X-200 event. She no longer needs eat, sleep, drink, or breathe, and she doesn't age. She now draws energy directly from the sun, and can transfer nutrients directly into herself via her Alteration power should she need too. Because of this she could alter inedible objects into having caloric value and then consume it should there be no other source of energy available.
Pandora also bleeds purple because of her strange new anatomy, her internal structure unrecognizable to that of humans. Her blood carries a natural property to restore whatever it comes into contact with, excluding herself. Pandora generates this blood slowly overtime, sped up by consuming nutrients or absorbing energy from the sun. Unlike most humans, who can live without 14% of their blood without even feeling dizzy, Pandora feels woozy and can pass out at only 1% blood loss. 10% blood loss and she is in a coma, and 25% blood loss and she will die. This makes Pandora more durable in some ways, but more fragile in others. One could fire a bullet directly into her brain and she could survive easily, but a cut to the back of the leg is extremely dangerous.
Pandora passively regenerates from any damage done to her, but only when she is sleeping. Loss of her blood results in a loss of energy, which forces her body to shutdown to restore the damage. She doesn't know this, but Pandora can regenerate from any damage, even from death. However, whatever aspect of what makes Pandora Pandora would be lost from this return from death, and she would essentially be comatose forever.
This protects her from decay, and is why she is ageless as the damage done to her by age was restored a longtime ago and never came back due to the permanent nature of her Alterations.
** OTHER- anything else you want to add. fun facts, goals, motivations, fears, crippling anxieties, allergies, sexual preference, favorite song, favorite animal, a random paragraph about them winning a track race, I've seen it all by now, I think. Anything here is not mandatory and is simply up to your discretion to add. **
she doesn't know anyone yet. i'll update it. probably with a big delay. as the rp goes on ** Fill out for Each Person ** Name of Person **Doi.**
Relationship Status **Friend, Acquaintance, Just a Face, Significant Other, Crush, Worst Enemy, anything you can think of**
Relationship Description **Either IC or OOC works very well**
**Fill out for each person you have a relationship with, I guess**
Use for World of light WIP apps. Doubt I will follow through on this one, not interested in the character so much. Would prefer doing evil Emily Kaldwin instead.
Name: Setsuki Hiruki Game Origin: Fantasy Strike Appearance: A round faced woman on the shorter side with a pastel multi-colored pontail. She wears a long red scarf with white tips reminiscent of a fox's tail. Her fingernails and toenails are painted red and purple, with her feet being bare except for some foot wraps. She wears a short, sleeveless blazer with brass clasps connecting it together with the top two undone. Underneath that is a white shirt, and a tie that trails lazily out from underneath her scarf.
While both of her tops are sleeveless, her arms are covered in sleeves that begin at her shoulders. A loose, unbuckled belt helps little in keeping up her tights and thigh high leather greaves that protect her shins. Hidden throughout her outfit are various places to store kunai. Aswell as sheathes, holsters, and pouches.
Her eyelids and eye lashes are heavily done up with purple make up, and her lips have had a purple-pinkish lipstick applied. Her eyebrows are dyed as well. Setsuki wants to make a fashion statement and look as unique and Setsuki-ish as possible. Her natural hair color is black.
Personality: Bold, boistrous, and rebellious, Setsuki is what many would call a brat. She's not out to please anybody but herself, and will do anything to win a fight. 'Honor' isn't a word in her vocabulary. She brags often of her abilities but usually tries to skirt a fine line so nobody actually tries to challenge her to a duel. She is arrogant, and she makes it clear she places herself at number one. She hates being told what to do and following orders, and wants the freedom to be able to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. Setsuki doesn't seem to care much for others but she holds a helluva grudge. Setsuki is also mean-spirited and lies to pick on things weaker than her to prove her superiority. Selfish and crude, her ninja outfit is supposed to look much nicer than it is as opposed to it's currently purposefully thuggish look. Attention is also something she seeks. She doesn't just want to be successful, she wants other people to know how great she is and feel envious of her. Wealth and power are also something she really enjoys getting her hands on, too. She hates being poor and is very hesitant to spend money.
If it sounds like Setsuki is trying too hard, it might be because she is. Though she would never admit it, her ego is quite fragile and she feels desperately misunderstood. People have rarely been kind or praised her, so she does all the praising of herself, to herself, and treats everyone much the same as she feels she has been treated. It's an act, but not even she knows it. Setsuki, deep down, wants someone to appreciate her, stay with her, and understand her.
On the lighter side of things, Setsuki greatly enjoys games of chance and skill. Cute animals (that don't talk) are a favorite of hers when no one else is around. She likes reading books and novels of all kinds even though she's not the best reader, and plays the flute to annoy people or relax, or both. Even though she's not the best flute player. She's also a big fan of the roving ronin of the wind, Grave, a professional badass who doesn't take anything from anybody and does what he wants. (He also seems to have a strong sense of purpose that Setsuki admires).
Overall, Setsuki likes pushing people's buttons and feeling special. She's a brat, with seemingly little regard for anyone but herself. She always wants to move up in the world and hates being bored and told what to do.
Background: A street urchin abandoned at birth by uncaring parents, Setsuki had to learn to grow up fast in the gutters of a magical, steampunk Tokyo. In a world of natural born magic users and fantastical creatures of immense power, Setsuki decided she wanted to become powerful and rich. Richer than her deadbeat parents and more successful than all her other 'friends.'
So she became a career criminal and thief, scamming, pick pocketing, and stealing from people's homes.
Specialty: (What your character's best at; what their main role will be to the group, like defense, magic attack, healing, traps, you name it. Can be general or specific) Level: 1 Experience: 0/10 (The amount of EXP required to level up will increase by 10 each level, but rewards get bigger, too) Powers: (You start with one, no matter how many your character had before, and will earn one with each level. They should make sense for your character)
Strengths: (Things your character's always good at, or always can do; essentially, passive abilities or bonuses. You start with three, but you can add more in place of powers when you level up)
Weaknesses: (Faults, flaws, inabilities, and so forth. Nobody's perfect) Spirits: (See Spirits section for details. Start with none)
Kindred Spirits: (Some souls are seemingly bound together by destiny. Put up to three characters, and you'll run into them sooner or later in the RP. There's no restriction on what characters you put in, but ones with a closer bond to yours, like a partner or good friend, are likelier to appear sooner) Inventory: (Whatever gear, weapons, and items your character has)
NATASHA ROMANOV ♦ SPY ♦ GLOBAL ♦ S.H.I.E.L.D. AND THE AVENGERS
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"I've been thinking a lot about life and death. When something surrounds and madly engulfs your entire existence, you can't help but give it more than just casual consideration. Life is fluid. Some 90% of what we are is made up of water. Without this precious liquid we are nothing. We cease to exist. We're dead. This water's carried around in thin-skinned sacks. We must all be insane to race recklessly about in world filled with so many sharp and pointed dangers. That's just asking for trouble."
This Black Widow is going to be a mix of MCU and some comics. Her backstory is that she used to be a KGB agent, and was biologically modified to have an extended lifespan. She actually fought through the 60's-80's as a KGB agent. At the end of the Cold War with the collapse of the Soviet Union she began to seek answers regarding what it meant to be a warrior and came to the conclusion that the Red Room was not just, righteous, and worth fighting for. So she defected, and joined SHIELD where she has been operating ever since. This puts her at about 80 years old, but she still as healthy as she was in her prime because of the Red Room modifications. She was the most successful Soviet attempt at a super soldier like Captain America. So while she is more known for not having super powers, this Black Widow will have some version of enhanced capability like in the comics.
I'm planning on having Black Widow figure herself out in a wholesome kind of way. The darkest part of her life is behind her, she is on the road to recovery and living a fulfilled life. She has already found the place where she belongs, now she is just struggling with questions like if she deserves it at all. Or what to do now, why people are heroes in the first place, what do people really mean too each other? Even if she cannot find definite answers to all the things she is looking for, she will at least come to peace with that and not let it get in the way of her sense of fulfillment.
There are some darker aspects of her character of course. But she is two years into her tenure with the Avengers and many more years into her experience as an Agent of SHIELD. At some point she was a cold, aloof, emotionless killer, but she has moved beyond that into being a reserved, friendly, socially awkward dork of a killer instead.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
I want to play a lighter, more opened up Black Widow. Something like what I imagine post-Endgame Black Widow would have been had that been explored, but combined with a longer, more clearly defined backstory as a cold-blooded killer. She still has a lot of unresolved guilt and trauma but she has found a close network of friends she trusts, and she loves being an Avenger, which is something she could not say about her KGB work or even her previous SHIELD work. While before she was only doing what she did out of moral obligation and a desire to be useful, now she is doing what she wants to do. Help people, make the world better, and find a way to be happy and sad in peace and among friends.
She is only two years into her work as an Avenger, and she is still fairly new to this whole being genuinely compassionate thing. I like the hypothetical contrast between her being a master manipulator and social engineer with her enemies but being somewhat of a goober around her allies. In her long life she has been many people, but she has never really been herself until recently. So she is still working out all the knots and kinks. Serious and professional is still her default state, but it doesn't take much for her to try and express herself better.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Allies I'd Like
Nick Fury- Black Widow's mentor, though she is older than him and she even joined SHIELD slightly before him, he has been an authoritative and reassuring figure in her time at SHIELD. While of course she follows all of his orders, she also trusts him as a person, not just as her leader.
Hawkeye- Natasha and Clint have always been best friends. I don't see any reason to discontinue this trend here, so I will talk to Hawkeye's player about their relationship. They are kindred spirits, both independant agents who have come together into a team. Ideally they knew each other before the Avengers project, preferably far before.
Captain America- I'd like for Natasha to be friends with Steve Rogers. While she is more suspicious of things like patriotism no doubt she would admire someone like him who is sound in his principles and cares about the lifes of individuals and liberty.
Iron Man and Thor- These characters could be a lot of different people but since they are all on the Avengers project I'd like them to be close friends aswell. Or at least they try to be nice too each other. At this point they have been Avenging things for 5 years so hopefully they have gotten over whatever roadblocks or personality clashes they may have had, at least somewhat.
Bruce Banner- Both of these characters have done lots of things they regret in situations they really had little to no control over, but perhaps feel like they did. I don't plan on having them be romantically involved as of right now but I think they could be close friends aswell, though they probably won't be the cheeriest two when they are together.
All other Agents of SHIELD- Natasha has been at this for a while now, though she was a lot more serious and gloomy in the past as she was still kind of in KGB mode for the last few decades even with SHIELD. So I would like to have at least passing acquaintance with whatever characters end up in SHIELD.
Street level heroes- I would like Natasha to go out on recruitment or scouting missions to meet with more heroes, be they Marvel or DC. People SHIELD has a vested interest in monitoring or getting under their thumb. Kind of like Phil Coulson but for people they don't know the secret identities of. Or maybe there could be some plot line that catches SHIELDS attention. Point is Black Widow has the potential to make cameos in other people's stories which is one of her best aspects. I'm totally down for this. Ask me anytime, I may even come to you but if you would like to have a person to roleplay with Black Widow can be there.
Enemies
The Red Room- The organization named after a place where killers are made. This secretive organization was thought to be destroyed after Black Widow betrayed and lead the hunt against her former trainers, and killed Ivan Petrovitch, her "father figure". The Red Room is now being lead by Madame B, who has co-opted the forgotten sect of the KGB for her own nefarious purposes, once again beginning to train elite female assassins to gain power from the shadows. Potentially allied with another mysterious organization of another player's backstory?
Yelena Belova: Another Black Widow that survived the destruction of the Red Room, thought to have been killed. Natasha knew Yelena as children and they served on some missions together, but Yelena was always envious of Natasha's success. She did not take being #2 very well, which was only compounded when Natasha betrayed The Red Room at the end of the Cold War. Now she seeks her revenge and to prove that is the world's most lethal assassin.
Enemies of SHIELD- Other than that, Natasha will battle evil wherever it is found. As far as she is concerned, she died up all of her loose ends when she got revenge on Ivan. The Red Room storyline is not particularly high priority to me. My main focus is on Black Widow's relationships with her fellow heroes rather than that of pre-determined villains.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Year One
There was a crash of glass and splitering wood. The criminal, in his ruined one thousand dollar suit, fell hard onto the concrete streets he exploited for his own personal gain. A knife clattered out of his hand and skittered against the red brick wall. In the orange light that shone through the broken window and into the midnight alley, a vaguely feminine shadow appeared. He looked fearfully up at the woman before a burst of electricity struck him in the chest and he fell unconsious with a thump.
The woman sighed, catching her breathe, stepping out into the cold air. She was wearing a mostly black bodysuit, with red highlights, enforced with thin but extremely durable and damage absorbing material. A utility belt contained various tools, and two handguns, and one baton. The other baton was in her left hand, and she had just finished firing a stunning round from a mechanical gauntlet device on her right hand. Over her face was a balaclava that hid everything except for her steely, large hazel eyes that were done up with faded make up. That, and a loose strand of red hair.
"SHIELD, this is Black Widow. Eight suspects have been neutralized. No casualties." She reported calmly as she put away her weapons and fiddled with her weapon, the Widows bite. Black Widow had a slight russian accent. She could easily obscure it, and for a majority of her time in America, she did. But now that she was on the Avengers and social camoflauge wasn't so required, she felt comfortable with the harsh edges of a Moscow tongue.
"Roger that, Black Widow, clean up crew in enroute. ETA five minutes." A male voice reported in over her ear piece.
"Sounds good. I feel great. These guys are pretty small fry, though are we sure-" Widow interrupted herself, having noticed something creeping behind a dumpster. She made eye contact with the shadow, and it stood up. Widow prepared her Bite, just in case.
"Are you BLack Widow?" A mousy little girl with ratty clothes asked, peering from behind the dumpster.
"Black Widow? Are you all clear?" The other SHIELD agent asked over communications, having noticed Black Widow cut herself off.
"Uh, yeah, just gimme a minute." Black Widow said, turning off her comms with a tap of an index finger against her ear.
"You are!? Wow!" The girl replied, having assumed Black Widow was talking to her. She trotted up excitedly, looking up at the shadowy agent. "You're my favorite avenger!"
"Oh?" Black Widow asked flatly, standing with her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides.
"Yeah, cause you're a girl, and I am too!" She said, smiling and nodding enthusiastically.
"I, uh...okay." She replied uneasily, looking down at the unconscious man. "That is great, but I am kind of in the middle of something here-"
"When I grow up, I wanna kill bad guys, just like you! Is that a bad guy!?" She pointed at the man. "Did you kill him!? So cool!" She punched the air triumphantly. Inwardly, Black Widow's mind was going into overdrive and her heart was melting.
Okay, okay. Um...what would Steve do? Natasha thought to herself, knowing that she should probably do something...heroic. What would a hero say? She was a hero, right? Something had to be done about this little girl and her misconceptions.
Natasha leaned down, hesitated, and then crouching down instead into a squat. She reached out to pat the girls shoulder but then stopped, letting her hand fall onto her own knee."Hey, uh, listen here...little one. My job is not to kill bad guys. My job is too...save good guys. There's a difference." She concluded to the best of her ability. She smiled, but the little girl could only see it in her eyes.
The homeless child seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Are...are you Russian?"
Natasha blinked. "Uh...only when I want to be." She replied with a shrug. The little girl seemed to think that was immensely impressive, which made Natasha feel something that was hard to describe.
"Well, okay. When I grow up, I want to be from Russia and save good guys. Just like you!" The little girl concluded triumphantly, pointing at Black Widow.
"Okay, good," Black Widow replied, her voice breaking a little bit. "And uh...no, this bad guy is still alive. I captured him. Maybe one day he could be a good guy again." She gestured with her masked head towards the man.
The kid seemed puzzled. "Bad guys can be good guys?" Natasha considered this a moment, staring at the ground. When she made eye contact, there was more resolve there. "Yes. Yes, I believe so. I...I was once a bad guy, myself."
The child gasped. "Really?"
"Da." Black Widow nodded solemnly. "But with some help, I am no longer such a bad guy." Natasha explained summing up her life story in a short sentence.
"Yeah! Now you're a hero!" The child agreed with a big smile. "I didn't know that. Do you think there will be no more bad guys? One day?" She asked.
Black Widow wasn't so sure. But she found it hard to say no. "Yeah. One day." She responded. The child wrapped her arms around the Widow's shoulders and squeezed her as tight as she could, which wasn't very tight. "I love you!"
"Wh-wha-" Black Widow froze up. "Okay- no you don't. But that is very, uh, nice of you to say. But you- I am- hey, don't-" She gently pushed the child off of her. She was glad she was wearing a mask because her face was as red as the emblem on her torso.
"What- what is your name?" She asked.
"Christina!" She replied.
"Do you- have somewhere to stay? You are street child, yes?" Natasha asked simply, glancing down at her torn up shoes. Christina nodded.
"Okay. That is okay. I know a place for kids like you to stay. Would you like to sleep in a bed and have a sandwich?" Natasha asked, a little too wordily. "For, uh, for free." She added.
"Yeah, sure! My mommy didn't want me anymore." She said plainly, causing the agent to wince. She chuckled slightly before stopping herself, her face turning even more red. "I'm sorry. That is not funny. I just...I didn't expect you to say that and...that is not funny. I am sorry that happened to you. You're safe now." She cleared her throat, feeling terrible. Stupid, Natasha, stupid!
Fortunately, Christina didn't seem offended. She just stood there with a little smile on her face. Was she in shock? Or maybe she was just tough. Just a tough kid who's had a tough life.
---
The last of the criminals was loaded into the back of a police van, the powered individual among them being carried away in a super secure SHIELD carrier. Little Christina was by Widow's side as they watched the bad guys be carried away.
"Okay. All right. Here, one of these nice police men will take you to the place. I will-" Natasha began.
"Could you take me?" Christina asked, looking up at Widow with big eyes.
Natasha tensed up again. "...Are you sure?" She asked quietly. Christina nodded. "Mhm."
A few minutes later, Natasha had secured the closet thing she had to a Black Widow mobile. A subtly powerful black sports car that smelled nice and was extremely comfortable. Christina was in the backseat.
"Seatbelts." Natasha reminded her as she buckled herself in. Christina nodded, sagely, and did the same. Realising they were alone, Black Widow wondered what she should do. Adjusting the rearview mirror, she pulled the balaclava off her face. Her red hair, tied into a tight bun with red hair that stuck up in every which way. That recieved another gasp.
"Wow! You're pretty!" Christina exclaimed.
"Tch," Natasha replied with a small smile, starting up the car. The electric engine silently rumbled to life. "Thanks, I guess." She replied. Natasha contemplated the child. She did not know much about child pyschology, but this girl probably needed a therapist. Hopefully she would get the help she needed. Natasha sure as hell couldn't give it to her- Christina was a force of nature.
They drove along. Street lights came and went, painting the car with soft light. Christina began to tell Natasha her entire life story. To say the least, it wasn't good. Black Widow just listened, feeling sorry for her. Sorry for Christina's rough lot in life. It wasn't an uncommon story, but Natasha had never taken a front seat to a kid like this before. She was tough, though. But it was clear she needed someone she could rely on.
They pulled infront of the shelter. Natasha was gripping the wheel tight. Underneth her gloves, her knuckles were turning white. "All right," Natasha announced, her voice coarse. "This is the place, Christina." She opened the car door and let Christina out. The inside was lit with stark white lighting. Encouraging if generic posters lined the walls and people, homeless and staff both, milled the walls. Black Widow stuck out like a sore thumb, even if she had left all of her weapons in the car she was still dressed to kill. People looked at her with awe, admiration, wonder, suspicion. She tried not to look at any of them, keeping her face down.
"I am here to drop off this homeless child," Black Widow declared seriously to the receptionist. He seemed a little surprised at who he was talking too, but quickly went into professional mode. "Oh, of course." He smiled down at Christina.
"You know her name?" He asked.
"Christi-" "Christina!" She replied for herself, chirpily.
"Well, Ms. Christina, come right this way. It's dinner time, we're serving turkey and gravy. We'll get you taken care of." Things moved quickly after that. Before she knew it she had signed some paperwork officially catalouging the incident and Christina would be protected and moved to where she needed to be. Maybe her mom would face criminal charges, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe things would work out for her...or maybe they wouldn't.
Christina gave Black Widow one last hug, which the woman returned this time as best as she could, since she was quite unexperienced with the act. It was stilted, Widow's elbows too far out to the side. Christina didn't seem to mind though.
"Bye Black Widow!" She said goodbye for the fifth time, waving as she lead by the hand into another room.
"Goodbye Christina. You can call me Natasha, if you'd like." Natasha said quietly, too quietly for anyone to hear her and stop the farewells yet another time. Black Widow was alone in the sparseley populated room. Some people looking at the back of her red head wondering if it would be appropriate to ask for a selfie or an autograph. It seemed all of them concluded that the young looking agent was not in a good mood for it. They let her drift out of the shelter unpestered.
Natasha Romanoff sat in the front of her car, gliding it into a nearby parking lot that was only lit by a distant, flickering street lamp. She remained there in silence, her eyes staring off into the middle distance. Her eyebrows knit together and her lower lip began to tremble, and for the first time in an exceptionally long time, Natasha began to cry. She quietly mourned for the childhood that Christina and herself had lost; she silently rejoiced that despite that, hope could still find them both.
P O S T C A T A L O G:
Nothing yet!
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
H A R L E Y ☺ Q U I N N
H A R L E E N Q U I N Z E L ♦ C L O W N ♦ G O T H A M ♦ I N D E P E N D A N T
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Ha!"
Harley Quinn was the Joker's gilfriend, sidekick, villanous cohort and victim. But within the last year, she finally realised that the Joker was no good for her, he didn't treat her well enough to deserve her loyalty. At first, it was just a ploy to get his attention back, and to set clear boundaries in their relationship. For example: no more pushing her out windows. Soon enough, though she realised she liked the freedom. Free from his evil influence, the dominoes fell and Harley shifted gears into an anti-heroic figure of Gotham. Carving her way through the darkest and cruelest parts of the underworld to bring a some laughter to those who need it most. Joker forgot one of the most important parts of comedy: Punching up is way funnier than punching down. Now Harley is applying her own unorthodox kind of vigilantism to the street of Gotham, chased by the police and supervillains alike and building her own personal little gang to make a mess of things with.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
Harley Quinn wants to prove she's better than the Joker and the rest of Gotham's supervillains. Anyone can be evil, anyone can be selfish. If she wanted to feel powerful she could overdose herself on drugs and fling herself into a vat of chemicals. No, Harley wants to be more. She wants people to like her- really like her. She wants to prove that she's funnier, smarter, and more beautiful than anyone else in Gotham.
Secretly- and don't tell anyone- she cares about the little guy more than she's let on. She knows what it's like to be discarded, trod on, and abandoned by those you thought were supposed to protect you. While her motivations are certainly not entirely unselfish, Harleen has genuine compassion for those around her and a desire to do good, like any hero. Harley also has a strong desire to put jerks, tyrants, and pricks in their place. Freedom and liberty for herself and everyone are important to her. She also wants to feel good about herself and do something never before seen.
And last but certainly not least, she's always looking for a laugh. Nobody in Gotham has a real sense of humor these days, and she intends to show them what good comedy actually looks like. The bad guys are going to get what's coming to them! Harley Quinn is going to be a killer vigilante and she's going to enjoy the killing, so this may put her at odds with many superheroes. However she may end up experimenting with a no-kill rule, and this would give her a chance at actual redemption both in the eyes of the world and in her own eyes.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Harley is a free agent, and she can't be committing and leading crimes all day long, simply because there aren't enough crimes to do. So when she isn't leading her gang or tearing up the streets of Gotham, I intend for her to travel, explore, and meet up with other player characters. That, or plan with people to have their character visit Gotham and have them run into the Clown Princess. Or seek her out, or...whatever, really. I'm giving her side characters so I could write her by myself for a while but I'm always looking for a collab of any kind with any one.
Harley Quinn is going to begin to form the Kill Yaself Krew at the start of her time in the RP. Harley's KYK (pronounced Kick pr simply Kyks) are going to take to the streets of Gotham and have some fun. Composed of allies of varying levels of loyalty and power level.
Current Membas:
Harley Queens: Clever, ambitious, good with a sword. Harlem Harley: Level-headed, good in a pinch, packs the heavy artillery. Bolly Quinn: Angry, wise, helluva throwin' arm and a penchant for big booms. Harvey Quinn: Free spirit, airhead, nasty haymakers. Carli Quinn: Stubborn, intelligent, lethal with knives. Hanuquinn: Thrillseeker, shortsighted (in both ways), helluva marskwoman. Coach: Glue of the group. Intelligent sage, supportive, crazy as the rest of 'em but better at hiding it.
The six of 'em, corralled by Coach, make up the bulk of Harley's muscle. Better trained, well co-ordinated, lethal ladies, a force of chaos fiercely loyal to the Clown Princess. Not to be underestimated like your average group of henchwomen.
Twins sometimes get a bad rap because of popular media, and unfortunately Deidre and Delia Dennis aren't helping that situation. These two take the connection between twins to a new level. So much so they are collectively called Dee Dee instead of their individual names because they are never seen apart. Dee Dee are a pair of tricksters, fighters, and expert acrobats and thieves. The two actually worked with Harley before she departed Joker's company, and she managed to convince them to come with her. After all, she was the one who picked them off the street in the first place.
Dee Dee are actually mutants. Besides their developed skills, Dee Dee are psychically bonded. They can communicate with each other without speaking. This bond also works physically, the two, when in close proximity with each other, can as much as double the others strength level when they so choose.
There is a downside- damage one twin, and you damage the other. The two have a shared health bar, so to speak, with pain and damage being transmitted from one to the other. Hit one in the face, both of their heads will jerk back. Electrocute one, and no electricity will meet the other but she will sure as hell feel that way.
Dee Dee are semi-rogue elements, often off doing their own thing. But when duty calls, and Harley can manage to find them, they're her most loyal sub-ordinates. So much so that they often call her Mama Harley.
This staff-proficient serial thief and security goon signed up with Kyks after growing tired of the stagnation of her criminal career. Quiet, arrogant, and on the moody side, the only time Afterthought (Attie) seems to have fun is when she's kicking ass or buying new things.
The kicker is (Ha!) that Afterthought, at some point in her life, had an advanced implant drilled into her noggin. Most likely non-consensually, given her distrust of most science and big organizations. Now she can tap into a quantum state of reality that is exactly five seconds ahead of our own reality. Combined with her gymnastic skills this makes her a formidable close-range fighter and sentry. The trick is to hit her with something she can't dodge or avoid, even with a five second heads up. And if you overwhelm her, she still has a human reaction time and human limits.
The two had been acquiantances in crime for a while, with her and the Joker occasionally combing schemes for their own purposes. However Poison took additional interest in Harley when she discovered that Harley was completely immune to all poisons and dangerous chemicals, meaning Ivy couldn't control her like she almost every other living creature on Earth and beyond. Their relationship grew over time into friendship. Ivy always knew the Joker was bad for her and was the one that nursed the near-dead Harley back to Health after the Joker almost murdered her. At that point their bond was an unbreakable one and unlike many supervillains they genuinely enjoy each other's company.
They will most likely end up in a relationship at some point in the future. Right now Poison Ivy is more of a supporting ally but their bond will grow even further in time due to events that I haven't planned out yet. But everyone knows Ivy x Quinn, and it's gonna happen here, too, though it won't be the main focus, at least for now. They will be close friends but I'd like Harley to explore the world, Gotham, and her new destiny "by herself" for a while. At least before I have the two of them be united into one CS where I'm constantly playing both of them.
Two monstrously oversized hyenas Harley rescued from a circus that was abusing them back when they were only little pups. The two are fiercely loyal, obedient, and savage, able to tear apart a fully grown man in seconds. They're also, in Harley's opinion at least, the cutest and sweetest little fellas you'll ever meet.
Literally everyone or no one, depending on circumstance. She's way too chaotic for lawful characters good or evil for her to trust. She's chaotic, but too flip floppy for vigilantes or villains to completely trust. So really there's infinite opportunities for rivals. Depending on who I end up in contact with OOC for teamups.
Right now though, atleast for a solo story, I'm thinking she starts taking on some Batman's Rogues Gallery. Some of the less powerful or famous ones first, but she works her way up. She could travel the country and take on other nutjobs, too.
The very first idea I have was her hunting down Victor Zsasz. That kind of villain is the exact kind of person Harley hates the most and I think she would love crushing that guy's head with her 100 pound mallet. I think my Harley hates no one less than edge lord nihilists who think they're so smart and enlightened they have to kill everyone to prove how smart they are and how meaningless life is. If she figures out the Joker is like that, and not the hedonist that Harley is, she'll probably gun for him eventually. That's down the line, though. At the very least it's funny to kill people who kill people because they think life is meaningless, because then they can't complain about it.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Doctor Harleen Quinzel, PsyD, skipped down the poorly lit streets of night time gotham. Her light blonde hair was tied into two long pig tails, one died pink, the other blue, with a matching color scheme for her eyeliner. Her outfit was quite simple, just a black sports bra and black gym hipster shorts, a red skirt and red crop top hanging rattily over both. Her right arm was in a cast. She was humming a tune, and in her left arm a baseball bat occasionally ringed against a metal fence post. Tucked against her chest, held aloft by her cast, was a bucket of ice cream.
Her sneakers scuffed the pavement as she came to a stop outside an abandoned, wrecked townhouse. The entire thing was overgrown with vines and plants, the bricks crumbling to dust.
Harley smiled, hopped up the broken steps, and rapped her pale white knuckles on the door. It swung open a few moments later, a flower emerged from the door frame and sprayed Harley in the face. She coughed, waving away the poison. The door was still open, leading into the absolutely swamped interior of the building. Rolling her eyes and smirking, she put on a dumb founded face and began to walk like a zombie down the twisted corridors. Alluring music echoed down the hall, and a femine voice beautifully sang a siren's song. Flowers twisted and writhed in a mesmering dance. Harley stomped down the hallways, sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes.
Eventually she came to a large lobby like room where a pool had been created out of the center desk. The entire area was flooded. Large plants, ginormous creations, curled up the walls and swayed in tune to the singing. Various civilians and two cops danced in a circle with dumb smiles on their faces, holding hands and giggling together. Harley, pretending to be under the effects still, wandered into the middle of the room.
There, sitting in the pool with her arms over the edge, sat Poison Ivy, the enchantingly beautiful green lady super villaines. She looked over at Harley and smiled, but Harley could tell she didn't recognize her.
"Well, hello there." Ivy purred. Vines crept up Harley's legs and wrapped her arms against her torso. "Aren't you just a cute little thing?" Harley was lifted and carried closer to the forest nymph. "I'd love too- HARLEY!?" Poison Ivy threw her arms into the air in surprise and Harley was hurled across the room at a speed high enough to kill or seriously injure most normal people. She hit the wall with a thud and bounced, rolling to the ground, groaning in pain and laughing in delight at the same time.
"Ohh, ohohoho...oh, man. That's too bad. I liked where that was goin'." Harley clutched her cast that carried her broken arm and scooped up the ice cream bucket that she had dropped. She left her bat on the ground, for now. With a smile she got up into a crouching position. Poison Ivy would be bright red if she could turn that color anymore, and she was covering her face with her hands.
"Ugh! You are unbelievable!" Ivy chastised, sinking under the water's surface. Harley chuckled and hopped over the precipice of the circlular desk Ivy had made into her pool and sunk into the water, clothes and all.
"Been tellin' ya for years, Pamela. Ya need glasses! You're short sighted." Harley pulled down the skin of her cheek to make her eye look bigger.
"I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you without- without the-" Ivy emerged from the water and pointed at Harley's head. Harley ran a finger through her pigtails and shrugged. "Without the little jinglies, I know. No hat. No mask, no suit."
Ivy's eyes widened and she gasped. "I can't believe it. You actually-!?"
"Yup. Me and Mistah J? We're through. For good this time." Harley cut the air with an invisible knife. Ivy rushed forward across the pool and gave Harley a big hug. "Oh, Harley! I'm so proud of you!" Harley laughed again and looked Ivy in the face as they pulled apart.
"What's up with ya, Ivy? Seem to be in a good mood today." She quirked her head to the side.
"Oh, yeah. I'm high right now." Ivy said, sinking back to her corner of the pool, eyes closed. "Sorry I'm not as bitter as usual." She joked. Harley seemed taken aback.
"Wow! You figured out how ta get yaself high? Ain't there a joke about God makin' a rock so big even he couldn't lift it or somethin'?" She looked tilted her head again.
"Oh, I don't know. Doesn't sound like a very good joke, though. But yes, I did. I tried it on myself, and a diluted version on these...people." She waved to them dismissively. "And on you. I could give you the strong version, if you'd like."
"Naw, naw, I'm good for now. Need a clear head, 'cause I've been doin' some thinkin'. What's up with these guys, anyway? Thought you hated people." Harley glanced around as a police officer held his partner of his head.
"I do. I thought I might like them more if they learned to appreciate nature as much as I do. But no, not really. They're still pretty annoying. None of them are even that attractive." She said flippantly.
"Oh, yeah, I get it. So that was special treatment just for me, then." Harley said, smugly sticking her chin up. Ivy closed her eyes again and face palmed. "Ugh. You yourself said I needed new glasses. Clearly I do. Besides, if I had known it was you I would have thrown you much harder. Because, you, you know...tend to Bounce. But enough about me- you and Joker. You really dumped his sorry ass?" Ivy asked, leaning forward.
"Uh huh."
"Oh, no, he didn't do that to your arm, did he?" Ivy asked, her face twinged with concern and pre-emptive anger.
"Naw, that was me. I got drunk and got into a car accident on the way over here. This cast is just some lady's dress she left out to dry." She admitted with a shrug.
"Oh, poor girl." High Poison Ivy leaned forward to see Harley's arm but then looked around. "Leave us, you oafs. Go home and forget this ever happened, and don't come to this part of town again. I wish not to see you anymore." The party-goers seemed disappointed but trotted obediently out the door.
"Yeah, you oafs! Get outta here! Ya bums!" Harley called after them before looking back at Ivy with a self-satisfied look. Ivy rolled her eyes and then travelled closer to Harley, removing the cast and holding her broken arm. Surprisingly, it doesn't look that bad, but it was definitely broken.
"Like ya said, I Bounce. SHIELD-o prolly got me on a list, somewhere. It ain't too bad- never is, with me." Harley bragged.
"That's objectively untrue."
"Whaddya mean?"
"Batgirl punched your lights out plenty of times."
"That's- that's different. She hits real hard. And many times ovah, not just once. I can only Bounce so many times." Harley defended herself.
"Right. So it's only not bad when you get drunk and fling yourself through your window because you're dumb enough to not where your seatbelt." Poison Ivy chastised, already commanding her plants to concoct a potion.
"Wha- I did not go flyin' out my window!" Harley protested.
"So what's that glass sticking out of your shoulder?" Ivy indicated the small shard of glass with her eyebrow.
"That's...that's uh...okay." Harley finally came clean with a sheepish look.
"You're tough, Harley. You Bounce back. But you're not invincible, and you need to stop acting like you are." Poison Ivy ran some liquid over the broken arm, and Harley grunted as she felt it snap partially back into place.
"Yeowch." She said, rolling her shoulder. "Well, gee, sorry grandma. I'll be more careful next time." She plucked the glass out of her shoulder. There was a trickle of blood but moments later it sealed itself up. Over her several year stint as a supervillain she had picked up a few tricks, aswell as naturally being born with an X-gene that activated upon an unfortunate plunge into a vat of "chemicals." The ability to Bounce, and make other things Bounce. Definitely the most fun superpower of them all. Poison Ivy also gave her a dangerous potion that would kill most people and terrify most other people away. A rare concoction that permanently granted Harley a substance in her body that could regenerate almost all wounds very quickly, and gave her additional durability and enhanced strength.
"Good." There was one final snap, and Harley's arm was as good as new.
"Whaddya doin' in here, Ivy? All by your lonesome? I know it's been a while since we last saw each other. Whaddya been up too?" Harley asked as Ivy slid back to her side of the pool.
"Oh, I don't know. No one ever listens to me except you. The world is still going to shit. Batman stopped my plans over and over again. I only barely escaped last time. I don't know, Quinn. I'm just not feeling it anymore. Feel like nothing's changed. I've been doing this whole supervillain shtick for a long time." Ivy shifted, casing her eyes downwards a tiny frog leapt up on her raised index finger.
"Aw c'mon, Ivy. You ain't a villain! You're a hero! You're tryna save the world! What's more heroic then that?" Harley asked, trying to reassure her friend.
"No, I'm a villain. I'm morally right, but the definition fits. I'm trying to uproot (Ha!) the world as these so called heroes know it. Some people need to die. Or at least I thought they did. Clearly nothing's gotten better. So I've...just been hanging out, I suppose." Poison Ivy said.
"What about you? Now that you've dumped the Joker?"
"Well...I dunno." Harley said with a shrug, her voice getting quiet. "I've been...I've been thinkin' about gettin' into the hero business." She admitted, her pale face flushing a little red. Pamela blinked, narrowing her eyes and raising an eyebrow.
"Huh. I...I never pegged you for the type."
"Y-you don't think it's stupid?"
"No, it's pretty stupid." Ivy responded bluntly. Harley laughed, but her face fell nonetheless. "But when have you ever let that stop you before?" Ivy added with a smirk.
"Aah..." Harley's face brightened and she smiled wide, thinking about that. "...ahaha. Ha-ha, hahahahaahahahaaah! Haha!" She laughed joyously, her giggle fit wracking her whole body in the way that it always did. Unlike her crueller male counter-part, Harley's laugh could actually brighten a room instead of bringing terror. Though, she could certainly do the latter, depending on what she was enjoying at the time.
"Oh, man. When ya right, ya right. Thanks, Pam. You always know what to say." Harley's heart swelled with confidence. "Okay. I'm gonna do it. I'm really gonna do it. I'm gonna show those bums out there what Harley Quinn can really be. Not some sidekick, not some boring two-bit criminal. They're gonna love me. There's gonna be Halloween outfits with my name on 'em! They're gonna give me a key to the city! By the time I'm done, Batman will be nothin' but a footnote on my heroic legacy! I'm gonna save the friggin' world and make a boat load of cash doin' it!" By the end of her speech she was standing and shouting, her fists clenched triumphantly in the air.
(Oh God, what have I done?) "Um, that's great Harls. But, uh...how? Most people think you're just the Joker's looney girlfriend." Ivy said, trying to reign in her friend. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work. Harley put a hand to her chin, thought for a moment, then shrugged.
"Haven't thought that far ahead yet. I'll figure it out. I'm gonna put a crew together. Maybe I need to take a roadtrip outta Gotham to get some perspective, see what's out there. Maybe I'll start by icin' some jackass that has it comin'. Whatever I come up with, when I'm done, I'll come back here and help you outta your funk, too." Harley Quinn stepped out of the pool, soaking wet, her smile bigger and brighter than ever. She fetched her baseball bat and rested it on her shoulder, and placed a hand on her hip. Ivy couldn't help but giggle at the sight, Harley's enthusiasm was infectious.
"Well, all right. I look forward to it, Harleen. Good luck out there." She said. Harley nodded and began to strut out the door before she stopped and turn around.
"Oh. I brought ya some ice cream." She pointed at the tub sitting on the edge of the pool.
"Huh? Ice cream?" Ivy squinted at the tub like she just noticed it. "Is it vegan?" She asked.
"Wuh-" Harley was confused. "Whaddya mean? It's ice cream."
"But is it vegan?" Ivy asked again, seeming a little irritated.
"Well- I dunno. I didn't know there was such a thing as ice cream with meat innit."
"That's not- Is it made of cow milk?"
"Probably? What other type of milk is there?"
"Then it's not vegan. It comes from a cow. That's animal byproduct."
"Oh, come on, the cow's still alive! Ice cream shouldn't count!"
"Oh, really? How would you like it if I kept you in a cage and milked you all day long!?"
"..."
"Oh, for fuck-" Ivy stammered, momentarily flustered. "Look, there's almond milk, and coconut milk that can be used to make ice cream. That's vegan ice cream."
Harley laughed a dismissive bark. "Yeah right. Coconuts don't have boobs, they can't give milk." "Oh my G- are you rea- it's ground up coconuts, it's a byproduct of the fruit!"
"Then it should be called coconut juice. Ya gonna drink apple milk? Orange milk? No." Ivy clenched her fists under the water and sneered. "Just leave! Just go! And take your slave cream with you!" Ivy commanded with a straight armed point out the exit corridor.
"Alright, alright! I'm goin'! Yeesh!" Harley raised her free hand defensively and gathered up the ice cream, shuffling herself out the door. "Bye Ivy!"
Poison Ivy scoffed into her facepalm. "Bye, Harley." Then, she was gone, and Ivy was left to her lonely peace and quiet. Meanwhile, Harley, a new woman, skipped out of Ivy's place and took a big whiff of the smoggy Gotham night air.
"Okay, world. Wait 'till you get a load-a this." Then she turned and vanished into an alley, one of the many back passages she knew like the back of her hand.
Appearance: Minako is a toned girl standing at about 5'2 and a thin frame. Her skin is fair, bordering on pale. She has large, sky blue eyes and friendly eyebrows, and a mousy mouth and nose. Her black hair is always tied up into a messy bun and the front of her hair is always died blue.
Koka's casual wear is very goth or 'emo'. Blacks, greys, dark blues. She likes a brand of clothing called Girilla and owns several pairs of sneakers, hoodies, and shirts from their collection.
She wears chokers and earrings. Her belly button is pierced with a small blue plastic crystal. She has a gold crucifix tied into her hair. She also has a tattoo of a pyramind with an eye on her upper left arm. A traditional Buddhist swastika, colored blue, is marked on her right ankle, with the words "well-being" drawn in a circle around them. There's also a pentacle on the small of her back, and the wiccan symbol of the triple goddess on her left shoulder blade. Finally on the outside of her left calf is a symbol of the sun, and on her right calf is a symbol of a crescent moon.
She's usually standing with her hands in her pockets and a little pursed-lip smirk on her face, with her shoulders and posture relaxed and comfortable, eyes half-lidded like she just woke up. If something catches her attention she will furrow her brow and tilt her head up. Overall she comes off as being very approachable or very strange depending on if you're cool or not.
Personality: Koka is free-spirited young woman who believes life is too short and too meaningless to be cruel to each other. She describes herself as a goth. She likes diversity, tolerance, individualism, and practicing kindness to everyone no matter how strange or subversive they may be, aslong as their peculiarities do no harm to others. Which is why she's taken a particular disliking to the tyrannical vampires.
Minako is often laid back and relaxed, stress does not come to her easily. She calls herself a Classical Cynic, believing that most sadness is derived from false expectations of the world and of oneself. It's very easy to engage her in a philosophical discussion and she's always up to learn new ways of life, and she's eager to share her own way of life with others who she believe needs it. She calls this 'sharing her chill pills'. Koka is a strong believer in active good and altruism, and if she sees injustice she will attempt to disperse it the best she can, as non-violently as possible. Minako is a very understanding person but she has little time for base cruelties like bigotry and sadism and these are some of the few things that can get her angry.
Koka is rebellious, but she doesn't mean to be disrespectful though she can often come off that way. She's very secure in her self-image and has a healthy amount of self-esteem. She likes herself, and others around her. Minako tends to day dream and falls asleep easily, and she loves creating and appreciating art, be it music or drawings of all kinds. And rollerskating.
Last but certainly not least, Koka likes big guns. They're exhausting she doesn't like to use them often, but shooting is one of her hobbies if she's looking for high intensity free time, which is quite rare.
Brief Backstory: Koka's parents were loving but extremely strict, which is what initially caused her rebellious phase that lead into her current life style.
She became somewhat of a criminal, possessing, selling, and doing various types of pyschedelic drugs and mushrooms, which she was never caught for though people were suspicious of her, if only for her developing aesthetic. Even becoming engaged in the illegal possession and use of firearms.
Koka never wanted to hurt anybody and didn't think what she was doing was bad, only subverisve to authority. Eventually though she began to feel somewhat guilty because ultimately the government was just trying to help. Humanity was on it's last legs. There were enslaved people out there. While the strict authorities were bad, the vampires were way, way worse. Sometimes she was kept up at night with nightmares of being enslaved and fed upon by evil vampires. Given her altruistic nature and her desire to do good, even the anti-authority Koka would do what she was told if it meant saving the lives of her fellow man. Though it would be tough to go against her nature like that.
When in basic training it was discovered her talent for both markswomanship and her natural aptitude towards Crimson Arms. At first, she was hesitant. But as a true believer in liberty, and not very prideful, she decided to suck it up and go try to save at least one person. Her courage surprised even herself, and perhaps though she might be happy with a drifter's life she would take this one opportunity to prevent the suffering of her fellow humans.
So she re-focused on her education and tried to get accepted into the Red Demons, which eventually succeeded. Hopefully she can stick with it and not get into too much trouble.
Equipment:
Smoke grenades, backpack, water, flares. Flashlight. A large knife.
A sketchbook full of drawings and poems. A cassette player and tapes. A vape pen.
Skills:
Markswomanship- Koka is a gifted shooter, both naturally talented and having practiced for fun many times.
Flexible- Koka is able to lift her own (admittedly small) bodyweight quite well, and is overall quite versatile.
Artistry- While she greatly poems and music, she is very good at drawing and loves art.
Crimson Arm:
Tiamat- A thirty-two round assault rifle with an adjustable scope. Full-auto, three burst round, and semi-auto functions included. Good for killing vamps at all ranges but doesn't specialize in anything. A versatile, multi-purpose weapon. That is Tiamat's basic form.
Tiamat has an underbarrel grappling hook zip line launcher. She can fire it at high speeds to wrap around or impale targets and objects, and then pull herself towards the object or the object towards her, depending on it's weight. She can also imbed a starting point other than herself to create a zip line for her comrades. The zip line can be used to swing herself from position to position, and for vertical ascent or descent.
Tiamat is also capable of creating a bubble of kinetic force around itself. Depending on the strength it can last forever or only for a brief moment. Tiamat can't shoot or use grapple hooks while within the bubble. However it can be used to protect the user from harm like a shield, or burst outwards as an attack to knock enemies away. The bubble can be focused into a narrow line, acting like a short range burst or kinetic energy perfect for blowing holes in the hearts of encroaching or weakened vampires.
Tiamat has a blue color scheme with red highlights, with serpent imagery drawn on some of the flat spaces by Koka. It has a few switches on the stock and under the barrel to activate it's secondary functions.
Brooke has dark skin, with black, curly hair, and rich brown eyes. Her hair is short on the left side, and longer on the right. She has full lips that smile, purse, and frown easily, and when parted, show her front right tooth is a little chipped. She has a slender, agile frame, the type of person that could do a standing backflip. (She can, by the way.)
She's always seen wearing a pair of thin-rimmed, large, circle-lens glasses.
When she isn't wearing her glasses, what will immediately become obvious is her lazy eye, or rather, amblyopia. Her right eye, when, not corrected by her lenses, drifts towards the center of her face, looking towards her nose. This is called esotropia. It limits her depth perception and in her opinion, makes her look very silly. So she likes to keep her glasses on.
Blood Type B-
Occupation Professional Hero
Side Hero
Affiliation HERO
Tier A
Personality Brooke Everette is a bubbly, easily excitable, high energy goofball of a woman. She wears her heart and her emotions on her sleeve. She is extremely passionate about philosophy, history, as well as nerdy garbage. When talking about something, she tends to raise her voice and gesticulate wildly. In social situations she can be easily flustered, and often stumbles over her own words and misspeaks. She isn't very self-aware, but she is just self-aware enough to be embarassed by the mistakes she makes.
Brooke is very empathetic to everyone around her, and this extends to her enemies as well. Needless to say, she cares a lot, about everyone, and everything. When she does something, she throws herself into it entirely. She can be surprisingly objective driven and can cut through the crap, after figuring out what it is and figuring out how to speak properly. Her feelings can be easily hurt by people she respects. In summary; she cares. A lot.
She is a dork for superheroes; simply put, a fangirl. She is totally into it. The costumes, the performance. Old school heroism, the kind that most consider sentimental and cheesy, is her favorite kind. Optimistic and kind, she wants to help others. She has zero tolerance for bullies and evil-doers. When an injustice occurs, she is right there to stop it, no matter who it is being done too. Despite appearance, she is by no means naive. Experience has taught her when to bring the hammer down. Literally, in some cases.
The heroic streak runs deeper than that, though. Brooke doesn't just worship heroes, she truly is one herself. She loves it. She lives for it. When in a high stakes situation, the bluster melts away. The corny one liners, the heroic poses, the act- it becomes real. Brooke performs poorly under pressure, until lives are on the line. Then, you could never ask for a better ally in a fight. She cares so deeply about this Silver Age guff it's becomes inspiring to others. Brooke doesn't change in a fight, but rather, things become clear, and she can become the person she wants to be. The greater the challenge, the greater Brooke can rise to meet it. Her resolve is remarkable. Perhaps it is some as of now inexplicable part of her power, but it seems that no matter how hard Victory gets hit, she always stands back to her feet. Probably with a genuine, honest to God battle cry. In the 21st Century. Most people just don't do it like Brooke anymore.
If there is one downside to all of this, is that she becomes antsy in peace time. She's always looking for something to do. Brooke becomes bored easily. She hates being bored. Absolute despises it. She has literally been bored to tears in the past. This alludes to a deeper problem of hers. Without a crusade to fight, a war to wage, souls to save, she becomes uncomfortable. She hasn't thought about it much. Were ever she to live to see a day where she could contribute no more, she may very well not know what to do with herself. What happens if she gets to the top of the tallest mountain? Is it wrong she hopes to never find out?
Fortunately in this broken world she fights to protect, there is no shortage of adventures to go on. Goals to be won. Milestones to be reached! Perserverance under pressure, resilience and resolve. She truly is a knight in shining armor. As long as nobody behind her in line looks at her disapprovingly while she's in a grocery store countirng change. She might have a panic attack. Or she shows someone a youtube video she thinks is hilarious and they don't laugh once. Then she'll die. But start shooting at her and she's good to go! Got it?
Backstory Born in the knotted streets of downtown Los Angeles, Brooke and her family made do among the "lower" rungs of society. Growing up poor wasn't easy, but she had three loving little brothers and two wonderful parents. From a young age, she learned the value of human connection. Her little brothes were also dorks, in their own different ways. In her teenager years she ended up in scraps often. The youngest two were easily picked on, the eldest brother always got himself into trouble by running his big mouth. Often she found herself having to stick up for them. Quickly, those at her school learned not to mess with the Everette family, lest they summon the wrath of Brooke Everette!
If only that were true. Usually Brooke got beat up, too. But she never stopped trying. Broken glasses meant her lazy eye was usually visible often. Eventually her brothers were inspired by her to stick up for themselves, or stop getting into trouble. Probably because they felt bad their older sister kept getting whooped on their behalf. Brooke didn't learn to fight, but she did learn to get hit. That toughness has stuck with her since then, despite her lithe frame.
Brooke may not have been a dork, but she was certainly a nerd. She would snatch up whatever comic books were available. She was fascinated by heroes who stuck up for the little guy. As a child she fantasied about having powers of her own. Posing dramatically in the mirror, coming up with her own superhero name, imagining what powers she would have. What she would do. What villains she could defeat (all of them) and what heroes she would team up with (the coolest ones). Naturally, her annoying brothers would tease her about this. Or just slobber all over her fake costumes because they were like, two at the time. This passion was contagious and exponential, as her father used his power to communicate with birds to interrupt an assault in progress. Nobody has time for mugging when they are getting pooped on and pecked at. From that day on, her biggest hero was always her dad. Her obsession only intesified, but her little brothers weren't teasing her anymore.
It was around this time that the oldest little brother got arrested for petty thievery. It was minor pick-pocketing, but the police saw fit to treat him unfairly. Apparently, he was upset that Brooke's glasses had broke in yet another fight he caused and wanted to pay her back. Thankfully, it worked out in the end, but this shook her of her previously childish view on crime, and the bullies she so often 'battled'. Maybe, she thought, there is a reason people do bad things. The thought only grew. The compassion she held towards the victims spread into a tentative pity for villains. Redemption was always better than retribution.
As she matured into middle school, she realised she probably wasn't going to get her own powers. Instead, she would focus on making changes in the community through policy. Perhaps she could help prevent crime from happening in the first place?
She discovered her powers when she was 17 and that went out the window. She wanted to kick some serious ass. She had matured, but she hadn't matured that much. One day, when explaining a particularly complicated comic, the light shining through the window began to dance with her flailing arms. That may have been one of the best moments of her life. Finally- her life long ambition- her childhood dream- could come true. Victory was at hand! All the costume designs and catchphrases and special moves- they could all be real! Everyone in the family was happy for her. Brooke was never one to conceal her emotions. But she was shining with joy throughout the summer vacation of her junior year of high school, and constantly practiced at her ability.
Grades were up, friends were up. Fights, too, were up. Brooke constantly overestimated herself and challenged people she really shouldn't have challenged. Indeed, in her righteous vigor, she may have escalated a few fights that perhaps could have been left at words. After almost going to juvie for a particularly foolish endeavor, she learned that violence wasn't always the answer. Words, too, carried weight. If only she could get them out without tripping over her own clumsy tongue.
When she turned 18, she realised that she had pretty much had a perfect childhood. At least in her mind. Sure, her right front tooth is always going to be a little smaller than her left front tooth, but that was small potatoes. She had a perfect family, in her view. Brooke was grateful.
The next obvious step was completing her college degree. Being as her mother would describe, a "smart cookie", she was able to transfer to a university after a two year stay in a community college. However the quaint and plucky community college (The Orange County Raiders, Go Team!) stole her heart and she ended up staying there instead. An entirely sentimental choice for an entirely sentimental young woman. Public Administration was her major. That way she could always fall back on making those changes she thought about earlier. If her hands got cut off or something. Anything could happen to a brave hero.
Now twenty two years old and the first woman to earn a bachelor's degree in her family, the choice was obvious. Brooke joined LATCH at 22, and her power and reputation has only grown in strength since then. There have been a few close calls, but Brooke has been having the time of her life. She's been looking into ways to prevent supervillains from existing in the first place, and has participated in charities aswell as political efforts. But mainly, just whooping butt. Her time as Victory on the Western Coast has been an absolute joy.
Brooke is an ideal superheroine for organizations like ICOSA, given her careful fighting nature and inspirational ability. She personally oversaw programs within LATCH to assist with the reformation of reoccuring villains, with limited success due to resistance to the idea. Out of necessity she mainly focused on reducing non-powered crime instead. Punitive measures, she believes, aren't the way to go.
Brooke is now a well respected superhero within LATCH, having served 6 years as a full time, professional hero. Her brothers have matured and gotten jobs, most of them having moved out of Los Angeles to seek opportunities elsewhere. Their parents couldn't be prouder. Eventually, Brooke herself felt an itch to seek greener pastures, if only for a little bit. She felt she had done all she could do in Los Angeles for now. So she signed up for a program that would allow her to be transferred to other super hero organizations. One of the ones she was most interested in was Castleburg. Mainly due to Coldwater prison, and VIPI, the protest group that seemed to have formed in direct defiance to atrocities happening within. So she set that as her highest priority place to explore and get to know. If there is some kind of highly abusive prison for convicted powered criminals, then that is the exact type of problem Brooke likes to solve.
She got her excuse when LATCH was contacted by ICOSA on HERO's behalf. Apparently, HERO had almost been subverted entirely by corrupt "heroes". They would need reinforcements and additional supervision. Just someone to help them get back on their feet...and make sure they didn't miss anything. It's not every day a super hero organization as a civil war. So, she packed her bags, waved goodbye-for-now to her family, and flew off to the East Coast.
Power: Hard Light
Brooke Everette has the ability to Harden light itsel, fortifying it into constructs of her desire. In order to do this, she must see the light, and there must be a light source nearby.
The simpler the construct, the faster she can summon. The easiest things are walls and rods, followed by domes and more complex shapes, and then finally, complicated "mechanical" constructs. The brighter the light source, the more power she can draw from it. There is an upper limit to it. Brooke suffers from weaker light sources more than she benefits from strong ones.
The Hard Light can be instilled with high durability, or be used for feats of strength. It can be damaged by powerful blows or many smaller strikes over time. If not disturbed, Brooke can repear the damage to her Hard Light constructs.
Brooke needs eye contact with a light source in order to create Hard Light. The simplest way to nullify her powers is to blind her. Her irises turn from brown to a glowing white when she was using her ability. Brooke uses her body to assist in the creation of her ability, as well as increase their strength. However, she can make them and control them with only her eyes. Once a construct is created, it will persist from a few seconds to ten minutes without her looking at it or "re-upping" it. Depending on how complicated. The less complicated, the longer it can last on it's own.
If Brooke creates too many things, they lose power. More complex constructs drain other constructs of their power more quickly. Most things take less than ten seconds to create. The process can be interrupted easily by enemy interference. It is easier to alter a Hard Light construct into another one than it is to create a new construct from scratch.
Hard Light Constructs
Starting at the easiest to do, towards the most complicated. Brooke also needs more light available the higher up they are.
The constructs can float on their own, and move on their own. They are semi-effective in this way. They are more effective when Brooke uses her hands and body in synchronized gestures. They are the most effective when being directly held by her.
The color and temperature of the light is dependant on what source/sources she draws it from. Complicated constructs become opaque, but simple structures are translucent. She cannot actually produce light on her own, only use what is around her.
Shield: The simplest, easiest thing for her to do. Clench a fist, and create a small heater shield. Can be created in extremely low light. At maximum power, this simple construct becomes almost invincible. A Victory staple. The very first ability she mastered as a kid. Almost always included in fan art.
Wall: Brooke points her palm upward, lowers her hand and then raises it quickly. She can create small walls as fast as she raises her hand. But the biggest one she can create takes a few seconds to materialize, and is 16 feet wide and 9 feet tall.
Push: Brooke pushes a previously created wall forward by pushing the air with her hands. If no wall is available, she can summon two cylinders, one next to each arm, and use those, instead.
Dome: Brooke raises her hands to the sky. A sixteen feet diamter, 9 foot tall protective dome appears.
Simple Shapes: Brooke manifests various simple shapes for utility purposes.
Melee Weapon: She enhances her own fighting ability by granting herself a melee weapon of almost any kind. They strike with more power than she can produce on her own, and can be larger than real weapons due to their being under Brooke's mental control.
Throwing Weapon: Much more powerful and accurate than regular throwing weapons. Guided by her mental power, these Throwing Weapons usually hit home, whatever form they take. Brooke likes using spears and knives.
Detonate: Brookes explodes her construct. The more complicated or powerful the constructs are, the longer they take to detonate, but the more powerful the explosion.
Numbing Strikes: Brooke reduces the effectiveness of her constructs, costing more energy and reducing the amount she can create. Her strikes do less damage. Now, they do temporary damage, instead numbing the effected areas. This allows her to finish off weakened enemies without risking permanent injury to their health. She could also use it to numb pain in general. Most effective with sharp weapons, allowing her to cut at the enemies throat. This causes the enemy to struggle to breathe and lose control over the rest of their bodies. They fall over and are easy to capture, then. She can also strike at fingers, hands, and legs, and simply cause them to go limp instead of falling off or bleeding everywhere. These attacks are worse in every way, but this purposeful limitation of her powers is one of her proudest innovations.
Armor: This one takes a large chunk of her Hard Light focus away from her. Brooke generates a suit of armor around herself that greatly protects herself from blows and greatly increases her physical strength. Her constructs become weaker as she focuses on this, and she can only create one at a time. Usually she summons a weapon. The design of the armor has changed over the years. Sometimes it's a badass motorcycle racer's suit. Most of the time, it's a suit of renaissance era knight armor. Moving it with her own body uses concentration. She also has to spend more energy to re-up it, considering she cannot see a vast majority of the armor when she is in it.
Bow: Brooke began experimenting with non-rigid constructs. The first thing she did was create herself a bow and arrow. It's much easier to use one of her own Bows, made of Hard Light, than it is to be a real archer with a real bow. Either way the fired arrows have good range, travel quickly, and hit hard.
Sling: A follow up to the Bow. Easier to create, Brooke spins this sucker around and then yeets something hard at her enemies. Less range and accuracy but makes up for it with being able to knock enemies around.
Crossbow: The heaviest hitting, most accurate one of all. Takes a few seconds to be created. Can be altered into less powerful, less accurate version that very quickly fires a volley spread of small bolts.
Bolas: Can be fired from the crossbow. Two heavy weights attatched by a heavy rope. Flung forward they wrap around the target, inhibiting them wherever they hit. Prime target is wrapping around the target's knees.
Bicycle/Motorcycle: Thats right. When in doubt, take a few seconds to make a high tech, durable bicycle. Take about ten seconds, and this can be changed into a motorcycle. Downgrade the effectiveness of the motorcycle and she can give herself a downgraded version of Armor, aswell. Bigger jumps, more stability, finer control, than a regular vehicle. If she gets off it, it vanishes almost immediately.
SUV: Like the Motorcycle, except it's an SUV. Takes about one minute to be created, and she can't do anything else while she's driving it.
Gun: Brooke creates a fucking gun. Takes a full minute. Can be of any kind, more effective and accurate than regular guns. Utilizes complex constructs and the detonation ability to fire her Hard Light at high speeds. She has never used this ability without utilizing Numbing Strikes as well.
Programmed Constructs: The most experimental of all. No successful prototypes yet. However Brooke is currently attempting to create Constructs that act without her direct influence. The dream is to summon more complicated constructs and then set them loose without having to directly concentrate on them. Her first major goal post is summong an Armor without her in it, and then programming it to battle her enemies for her. So far the best she has done is a ball that moves towards the back of her head, but only when she isn't looking. Currently called "Boo ball".
Martial Arts: Brooke is a trained mixed martial artist. She's not half bad.
Gymnast: Brooke is a gymnast. All there is to it, really.
Resolve: Something in Brooke's soul refuses to back down. The source of her powers is her very willpower. This determination has been abnormally bolstered and enhanced by her ability. A secondary, as of yet developing mutation that increases her perserverance. She is resistant to mind altering effects.
Weaknesses have been mentioned here and there, but now they will be gathered in one place. These are all the weaknesses she knows about, new ones may be revealed by clever enemies.
Darkness: Brooke struggles to manifest light in dark places. Many enemies assume this to mean she cannot operate at night, but usually the moonlight or lights of the city grant her enough to work with. However dark interiors like dense buildings, caves, or cramped closets can truly deprive her of power. If she can see light, she can use it.
Blacklight- Adding onto this, concentrated Black Light nullifies her powers entirely. It makes her feel dizzy and even faint. Safe to say she won't be going to any raves.
Line of Sight- She needs line of sight to generate constructs. A thick blindfold removes her powers- full stop.
Tunnel Vision- Everything she does requires deliberate focus, intention, and willpower. If she is distracted her powers may falter. On the other side of the coin when she is concentrating hard on her abilities she has little brain power for much else.
** OTHER- Fun fact: Left handed. Fun fact 2: loves fun facts.
Favorite music genres: Rock, Electric, Rap, Classical. Whacky crossover genres. Favorite animal: Dog. Allergies: Shrimp. Sexuality: Asexual.
Name: O'Kay or Kay (Previously: Whispered Child) Age: 17 Gender: F Race/Species: Human Student/Teacher: Alpha Student Inspiration: Cassandra Cain, DC. Nebula, Marvel. Physical Description: The first thing someone might about Kay is her height. She stands at 6 feet, 2 inches, and unlike most girls her age doesn't show signs of slowing down. She is of Chinese Descent and has short black messy hair and dark brown eyes. She is muscular but lithe, giving her a powerful yet spindly frame. Her body is marked by scars in several places. Her limbs can and do bend unnaturally, being double jointed and reinforced.
Beneath her ribs are two grotesque flesh plated openings that can vibrate with warm breathe. Her body is extremely calloussed in places and very rubbery in others. Several surgery scars are on her chest, back, and legs. Around her navel is an intricately designed tattoo of an eye. Her hair hides surcery scars, as well. Her eyes have a second pair of vertical eyelids, and they can dilate into a line like a cats.
Personality: The only place Kay can blend into is the shadows.
Kay is a shy, gentle girl with low self-esteem. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is extremely overemotional. She is also the most compassionate and empathetic person in any room, caring deeply about strangers, let alone people she's actually forged a connection with. She is very slow to anger and quick to forgive. She dislikes bullying and abuse of any kind and will nervously go out of her way to stop it, if she can. She hates violence of any kind. It is extremely easy to hurt her feelings. Especially about her abnormal body structure, of which she is extremely insecure about.
Kay despite all this, is not an introvert. She loves being around new people and making friends, and hates being alone. The problem comes in actually accomplishing this, as in her limited experience a vast majority of people are skeeved out by her. When she is around someone she trusts she becomes very intrusive of personal space, with lots of hugs and picking up and resting on.
Kay loves hiding and feeling safe in cozy places. She also enjoys movies and stories of all kinds, and she loves practicing her martial arts. Kay is a perfectionist, which is the source of a lot of her anxiety. If she can't do things perfectly right she grows frustrated, disappointed, and sad. She is also very competitive and thus doesn't want to play games or participate in sports on the chance that she loses and makes a fool out of herself by getting upset. On the flip-side she draws pleasure from executing things perfectly. She wants to cover up her face and dislikes the school uniforms bright colors as it makes it harder to blend in. When she gets the chance she wears face masks or scarfs and hoodies to conceal as much of her body and face as possible.
Finally and perhaps most importantly, Kay is illiterate and cannot speak any language at a functional level. She can read and write but not at a level that is considered literate, outpaced by small children. She can understand those around her quite well, but big words can go beyond her understanding. She mostly relies on body language for communication. Though she can speak small sentences, she stutters greatly and usually relies on mimicry and replication when she does speak. Instead she prefers to use her own body language to communicate, with which she is unusually effective.
Backstory:
The Whispered Child was born to be molded and crafted into the perfect weapon. Its father was a Warlord, a leader of a tyrannical zealous cult in a faraway land. its mother was an assassin, devoted only to the cause of lethal perfection. Out of some misguided belief that their child would inherit both of their talents and predilections towards evil, they came together in an unholy union. And so the Whispered Child was created, its destiny laid out before it by its parents.
The Warlord and the Assassin had no love for each other but they raised the child together, both of them united in their interest to see the progress of their spawn. They had two distinct philosophies that blended nicely together. The Assassin would teach the Child to turn its body into a weapon. The Warlord would turn the Child's body into a weapon for it.
A unique draw of this vile experiment was the utter deprivation of spoken and written language. The Assassin's idea. Instead, the Whispered was taught to communicate entirely through body language. The parts of the brain responsible for communication was nurtured in a different way that would make pediatrics everywhere roar in outrage. They never spoke around it. They communicated silently but effectively. It learned to read muscles and twitches instead of the alphabet. It spoke with its eyes and its posture instead of its mouth.
It was not the only Child, but it was the favorite. It was not the first Child, but it was the most special. Indeed the Warlord had kidnapped many boys and girls from different places in hopes of turning them into his perfect weapon. All of them were moderately successful, sure, he was a master warrior in command of a loyal league of black operators. But he held no attachment toward them. The Whispered Child, however, was of his own flesh and blood. The Assassin felt much the same way. It became their obsession. Though the two had cared little about anything other than themselves, in their own twisted and cruel way they came to truly care about the Whispered Child and its upbringing. They wanted to see how far they could push it. It was to be their legacy. A new bloodline of born, silent warriors. As long as they remained in control, of course. Never would they give it too much agency.
While the Assassin perfected the teachings of its martial artist, the Warlord saw fit to augment the Child's body in unimaginable ways. He forced it to battle the other Children, his other soldiers. He calculated every weakness and contrived surgical solutions. Its body was twisted by occult science, flesh that was not its own was bound into its. He made stretched the Child. Inserted vertebrae where none were previously. He made it able to twist its own form in ways that would make contortionists blush. Some experiments that were not a success were remedied with removal or improvements. How many times did he open up the Child? It lost count.
The Whispered Child was given no chances to develop a personality. Its individuality was to be cleansed out of it. The Warlord purposefully weakened its mind against psychic defences so he could assert his will over itss with mind control. It would be his obedient weapon, an extension of his own will.
But there was a flaw in his plan. The Child kept its truest, darkest thoughts to itself. It came to master the understanding of human emotion in ways not even the Assassin could have predicted. The more it learned, the more it learned. it saw the Warlord's inner weakness, his gnawing fear of mortality and dread. It saw the Assassin's desperate, cloying attempts at wealth and security. It saw the others Children's fear of failure, their stunted souls. It saw the way the soldiers looked at it, with fear and with pity. It saw the way some of them cared deeply for those who were far away. Even in the darkest, cruelest of places, humanity existed in some form. The Whispered clung onto those scraps. It found the most interesting soldiers and watched them intently. When they did, and didn't know it was there. The Child began to outpace its mother and fatits. It could elude their detection and return before they realised it was gone, if it timed it just right. It heard its first word when it was 12, a soldier asking another for a smoke. A simple act of kindness. They existed, even itse, and they were alien to it. The curious Child wanted more. But it kept its cards close to its chest. If their perfect Child was not given a soul, then it would create one for itself. It became obsessed with finding any clues to the outside world. Art, music, stories. Not the false things the Assassin created that were really just training manuals in disguise. True things created out of passion for more than just violence.
The experiments and training continued for years. It fought and battled the other Children and constantly bested them. It knew their frustration, their hatred of it. Their digust of her twisted form. The Warlord and the Assassin were enthralled and proud of their creation, their abomination. As it matured, its mind developed, and its spirit grew. Not fast enough. The time had arrive. It was sent on its first mission when it turned 16. The Warlord placed a spell on it, compelling its return.
It completed it flawlessly. It killed the target in the middle of an armed compound, and the alarm would not go off until morning, for nobody knew the target was missing. It killed no one else. It knew little about the target, but in the brief moment it ended his life, it got a picture of the stranger. 46 years old, balding, a developing cancer in his prostate not even he knew about yet. Brusque, business oriented. He had killed before both directly and via orders, and the death of his men weighed on his conscience. He was tired that evening, and looking forward to going home to those who loved him. He never would. As he felt its lithe, long arms wrap around his neck it literally felt his terror, his fear. The sorrow ached. It felt it, too. It could see his own death. It might as well have experienced death with him. There was a snap, a struggle to breathe and a horrible agony, and then a final stillness. Then it was over. It was terribly anti-climactic and impersonal. His life was over and it was responsible. Tears streamed down its face and its heart was heavy. The Assassin and the Warlord never expected their monster to have a soul. In their arrogance they failed to realise how granting a weapon the ability to truly understand those around it would affect it.
On that day forward, it...no, SHE, began to plan her escape. The plan would need to be carefully executed. Being discovered by the Warlord would mean mental domination and re-evaluation. Her kindness could never be discovered.
Needless to say, her plan worked. She was no longer under the control of her malevolent creators. They created the perfect weapon and lost control over it, as so many had before them in so many different ways. Only she was determined not to become some cautionary tale. She travelled alone in the wilderness and eventually found a town, and then a large city.
The place was a joy. She loved it. She wanted to be there and live amongst it, forever. She yearned to be so casually accepted, but her social graces were non existant. She would have to learn to replicate how they walked and talked. The light was beautiful, but it hurt her eyes. She consumed as much visual media as she could.
She was homeless, and used her skills to not survive, but thrive. All it took was a bit of investigation and the city became her playground. She couldn't read the signs but she could smell the food. The crowds were overwhelming but provided ample opportunity. She made friends with the animals, but the other homeless were afraid of her.
Eventually she crept into a place she had deduced to be a place of learning, the library. There the kindly old librarian, her eyesight fading, was nice to her. This was a place known as a community outreach center. In this strange city even someone was bizarre as her could be welcomed with the right mindset.
The lost child found great pleasure in exploring the city. But one day, there was a terrible car accident. She heard a bay, crying. She knew the car was going to explode, and she knew those around her were too scared to act, and unsure of even how to help. So she helped. And it almost went bad. There was an explosion, but the baby, the mother, and the father, all survived. As she cradled the crying baby, she understood it's fear and resonated with it, and he quickly stopped crying.
But it didn't go fully as planned. The flames had sheered off some of her clothes. Her torso platelets opened and closed, exhaling clouds of moist air into the city's cold night. A piece of metal had lodged itself in her back, and her blood flowed freely down it. The people nearby, who came to check up on her and the baby , saw her wounds. Most of them were naturally repulsed by her disgusting form, she knew. But all of them cared for the baby by instinct. And they saw her wounds and though some of them shied away, most of them came to help. They checked up on her. They kept repeating a word, over and over again. She didn't understand english perfectly, but she got the gist.
"Are you okay?" They asked her. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she replied. "Yes. I'm...I'm... o...kay."
Not long after that, White Wood academy used it's extensive resources to locate the mysterious girl roaming the streets late at night. They offered her a position there, a new life, a chance at something...normal. Of course she knew they were telling the truth, even if some of them were insecure about it. They asked her questions. Tried to gauge who she was, where she had come from.
"I'm o...kay," she replied with a nervous smile. "I'm okay."
The name stuck. O'kay was born that day. Given her weak knowledge in the spoken languages, she is pleased that she was able to craft such a pun so quickly. People called her Kay, for clarity's sake.
Powers/Magic:
Body Modifications: The Whispered Child is a cyborg of twisted flesh and knotted bones. O'kay has had many invasive surgeries that grant her powers.
Eyes Like a Cat: O'kay posesses the ability to see in the dark. She has a third, translucent eyelid that she can use to see while protecting her eyes from particles and damage.
Subdermal Weave: Many parts of her body have been implated with a subdermal weave that grants resistance to damage, even allowing her to resist bullet penetration.
Strengthened Skeletal Structure: As well as being more flexible thanks to additional joints, chemical compounds were added into her bones to make them heavier and more difficult to break.
Adjusted Muscular Composition: To accomodate for her many "additions" to her bone structure her muscles were changed. Her grip strength is particularly impressive. If hanging upside down, she expends no extra energy.
Extendable Talons: Her finger and toe nails look normal, but upon closer inspection are actually extendable claws she can use to attach herself to otherwise solid objects.
Secondary Air Intake: Armored flesh platelets grant enhanced protection to her ribs, but they can also partially open up. She can breathe directly into her lungs this way. She also has extremely enhanced stamina beyond just her advanced cardio training, able to hold her breathe for an hour. They also naturally filter out harmful substances like poison.
Advanced Hearing: Kay can hear extremely well, especially when she limits the input of her other senses. Her ears are more resistant to damage from shockwaves and loud noises. This, combined with Secondary Air Intake, allow her to use echo-location to scan her environment. As well as doing a discombobulating shriek.
Full Body Control: Every subconscious routine of the human body, O'kay can manually override. From adrenaline production to pain detection to even her own heartbeat, she can stop and start them at will.
Joint Hypermobility: Surgery has granted her the ability to manipulate her body in creepy but versatile and useful ways. Contortionism is already one of her natural talents but the re-alignment of her skeletal and muscle structure allows her to take it to the next level, with double jointed arms and legs.
Advanced Regeneration: Kay regenerates from wounds far quicker than most people.
Emotional Trigger: The Whispered Child has the ability to give off 'vibes' with her body. Her body language is expressive on a subconscious level that cannot be easily explained. The main application of this, however, is that Whispered Child can trigger the fear reflex in people that look at her, should she so choose. Even brave, courageous, or hardened people will find their minds afflicted by fear should she undergo the invisible transformation.
Abilities:
Most Lethal Martial Artist: O'kay has been prepared since the moment she was concieved to be a killing machine. She is fluent in too many styles of hand to hand combat to count. She has already surpassed some of the worlds most lethal assassins and her potential has yet to be even close to fully tapped. With further training, discipline, and focus, she could become the most dangerous fighter, ever.
Master of Stealth and Speed: O'kay sticks to the shadows like a bat. She can be completely, 100% silent when she walks. In combat she can be hard to trace with one's eyes, like a mosquito in a dark room. She can hide in places where there should be no place to hide. One could mistake her for having the ability of short range teleportation, but this is just her talent for decieving the mind and eye.
Master Markswoman: Kay can aim ranged weapons, of all kinds with impossible accuracy.
Above Her Weight Class: It may be tempting to think that one could overpower Kay with weight and sheer strength, but one would be wrong. While she is already very strong, her techniques allow her strikes and throws to hit with power that seem superhuman.
Like a Book: The keenest and most unique advantage Kay has, the one entirely exclusive to her. The ability to read body language in a fight. With this ability she can anticipate her opponents moves and intentions, their feints and their follow throughs. She can gauge their prowess in a matter of moments, and learn the strengths and weaknesses of their techniques. This skill is so keen she can be aware of her opponents next move before they are. The subtle, imperceptible give-aways of the human body. Even beyond the human body- the same skill applies to animals. Everyone and everything is communicating it's true intentions to her, especially when in the middle of combat. As a result she can accurately tell what other people are feeling. And she is a nearly infallible human lie detector. In this same way she is able to mask her own intentions and tells, making her immune to someone attempting to mimic her techniques, and making her all the more unpredictable, uncanny, and inhuman in a fight.
Potential Character Arcs: 1. O'kay learns to read, write, and speak English at a useable level with the help of the staff and her new friends at White Wood. 2. Bad guys from her old school come to find her. 3. O'kay finds a cause worth fighting for and discovered her passion for being a vigilante or other defender of justice.
And Kay needs a found family and emotional anchor of some kind in order to survive. But that will be up to the other characters!
Name: Waverly DeWinter Gender Female Age: 18 Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Position Applying For: DeWinter Heiress Personality: Waverly is an assertive young woman with an expertise in social graces. She is chipper, polite, and knows her manners. She is amiable and humble. However this is somewhat of a front. Waverly is an introvert who is a master at prending to be an extrovert.
She puts up this facade because she knows more people will like her that way. Waverly is manipulative and likes being in control of every situation. Especially social. She feeds off the admiration of others. A perfectionist, Waverly can be very harsh and domineering.
When things don't go her way, a volatile temper reveals itself. She can become wrathful, and she holds grudges long past other people might have forgotten them. She wants everyone to respect her and like her. She is a fierce believer in the traditions and values of Westcliffe. Any threats to the DeWinter family or her own social status are absolutely unacceptable.
Beneath even that is an insecure woman who has always failed to live up to her own expectations. Waverly loves cats, plants, knitting, the theater, and soap operas. As well as fashion and art. But one rarely, if ever, gets to see Waverly DeWinter with her guard down.
History/Bio: Born into the DeWinter family as it's heiress, Waverly took the task to heart. She wanted nothing more than to fulfill the expectations of her parents. She wanted to live up to the long and proud legacy of the DeWinter family. When she was done, Westcliffe would be a shining small town beacon, beautiful and perfect, just like herself.
To that end she began 'developing' herself. Everything she thought people would like and respect, she adopted that into her outward personality. Charisma, business, her academics. She created a loyal group of followers. She organized charity events and fundraisers. Her true self, flaws and quirks and all, receded. Eventually, the mask became her face, as it were. Her reputation preceded her. Behind the scenes her perfectionist ways had people calling her a 'witch' behind her back in more ways than one. School plays, school baking events. It all had to be perfect. It didn't matter if there was hardly anyone in the town. The majority of the small class of students were under her thumb. Perhaps a few annoying stragglers or forgotten ones or broken toys who didn't fit in, anyway. Everything and everyone had to be just right.
Most of all, most MOST of all, the Halloween festival had to be IMMACULATE. Somewhere, Waverly's genuine love of Halloween propels her ever forward into making sure it all goes exactly to her 'parents' plan.
Emily Dawson
"Live, laugh, love. Or, don't, I guess. Up to you, really, I mean, that's just generally my rule of life but I guess some people think it's kinda cheesy I guess, I dunno."
Name: Emily Dawson Gender Female Age: 18 Sexual Orientation: Asexual Position Applying For: Standard Character Personality:
Emily is talkative. A chatterbox. When there's no one around to talk too, she talks to herself. Or she'll just talk to herself right in front of someone else if the other person isn't being receptive. It's an unbreakable habit. She'll talk about literally anything for way too long.
An extrovert, she likes making new friends, even if she can be bad at it. She's genuinely a friendly person with a compassionate heart. If anything she can come off as too friendly, too quickly, having declared best friendship on multiple occasions. A quirky sense of humor does or doesn't help. Either way, Emily gets attached to people and concepts very quickly. This leads to her being overemotional in certain situations and extremely attached to the fictional characters of the fictional books she loves reading.
Emily is also extremely curious, and she loves to learn about people, events, anything. It's why she wants to be a journalist and historian for the Westcliffe newspaper. Or a librarian. She's trying to put her words down onto paper, where they won't be forgotten. And also where they won't annoy people so much.
Despite being quite intelligent, Emily is also dumb. The difference between "book smart" and "street smart" has never been so obvious. Common sense is something she lacks entirely. Usually this results in an entirely unwarranted self-confidence. Perhaps it's just her unyielding optimism. Emily only has uncommon sense. Weird sense. Highly specific and rarely applicable sense. And fiscal sense- too: she's good with money.
History/Bio:
Emily was born to Dave and Sarah Dawson. She's the youngest of two brothers and one other sister, all only a few years older than her. Dave, June, Mark, and then Emily, from oldest to younges.t One might think this fairly large family is the reason she's so talkative. Perhaps in order to get a word in edgewise she developed this tick? Nope. If anything, she's the reason people get talked over. Some part of her brain had it's wires crossed during development.
Emily still grew up loved in her house, and she often ended up being the mediator of family conflicts. Her brothers and sister often picked on each other but they quickly decided she was off limits. She was far too easy of a target and they all just ended up feeling bad about it.
Emily took an interest in reading, writing, and exploring. Much to her parents chagrin she would head off into the woods by herself to climb around. That, or diving into the library to learn so many useless factsshe could fill the "dead spaces" in conversations with. Eventually she tried developing a few ideas of her own.
Given her athletic nature she ended up founding a cheerleading club. As of today she is the only member, but she got the uniforms designed and everything. She also founded the Crown of Dragons club and the Journalism club, for her favorite book series and one of her favorite hobbies. She's the only member in both of those, too.
Most everyone around town knows about Emily and her strange proclivities. She has no real close friends, but it's not like she's entirely disliked. People just decided she was harmless. She has acquaintances galore, which is good enough for her. But a real best friend is what she really wants. That, or a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. Emily doesn't quite yet realise she's asexual and doesn't understand why some of her classmates kiss each other so much, but it seems like the thing to do so she's been attempting to emulate.
She graduates soon and she'll have to find a job. That'll mean doing a job interview, which she's sure she'll nail the fourth or fifth or eleventh time she tries it. Or maybe she'll just make up her own job? She doesn't really know.
Me (looking cute) and my MACHINE GUN! It doesn't work yet but it will! Don't tell anyone that it doesn't work, or else I'll shoot you with it when it's fixed.
¤ Age, approximately. NINETEEN! I'm Nineteen. I counted. I remember the very m-m-moment I was born, y'know! I was there th-the whole time! I can say, without a doubt, one HUNDO percent, that I am Nineteen, Three Months, and TWO DAYS...young.
¤ What Are You? The Oilburner.
Someone who needs heat, and casts away shadows with light and flame alike. Always trying to "burn the midnight oil" as much as possible.
¤ What defines you?
Sharp. With a capital S.
¤ Who are you? Hmm...well...I don't even know where to start! At the beginning, I guess. Nineteen years, three months, and two days ago, I was squirted from a vagina. You probably already guess that, that's true for everybody. Unless you got cut out? Anyway my mom's name was Braid and my dad's name was Who-Gives-A-Fuck, I dunno, he wasn't there.
I was actually born in Steelbird Landing, wouldn't you believe it? Back in the bad old days! Braid, my momma, she was a good lady. Real pretty, if you ask me, and smart as a c-c-cookie. The only thing I don't like about her is that she named me Belly Button. I wish she woulda named me Ponytail or Bun, or...Piercing. Something. Belly Button...I guess she thought it was cute? She was that kind of lady, my momma. She wanted me to be smart, she did! I am. Lucky I was BORN smart, pretty sure. Most people in this world are just born dumb idiots, but me, I was born smart, real smart. A f-f-fucking genius. But I still had to learn, just like everyone else!
Now my momma she had it bad. While I was born in S-s-steelbird Landing, she wasn't. My dad, Who-Gives-A-Fuck, (momma never told me his name) was a bad man. A real bad man. Let's j-j-just say that little old Belly Button wasn't a mistake, but she sure as shit wasn't intentional, either. Least not on Momma's part. But she loved me anyway because Momma Braid was the best woman to ever live. Now Gives-A was the leader of a bunch of pricks up north. Holed up in a couple of old city blocks. Anyway they hated everyone and everything. E-e-even each other! And the leader thought he owned everyone. Everyone believed him. S-s-so I guess that means he really d-d-did own everyone? Anyway my momma decided to run away from his DUMB ASS and she took books from the library with her, and she took me with her, too, and I was inside her because I was just a gross little fetus lookin' thing at the time. (I know, because I remember!)
Well he hated that. But fuck him, he's probably dead by now. She ran ran ran, with a few others, and most of 'em made it to Steelbird Landing. And my momma decided I was gonna be the SMARTEST boy that ever l-l-lived! But I was a girl, but she said that's okay, because, again, best person ever.
Aaanyway, so I grew up here! And I read those books every day, e-e-even if I didn't understand them. Momma taught me the few words that she knew. She found picture books for me, alphabet books. And I loved loved loved it, almost as m-m-much as I loved her.
My childhood was lots of books. I r-ran off by myself to scavenge more books. I traded for them, did tasks and favors. Y-you'd be surprised how many people still have books! They just use them as doorstoppers and table-evener-outers and plates or toilet paper.
M-m-my favorite was ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS engineering! Science fiction inspired me! Old pictures of beauty beautiful things that we forgot how to build. Steelbird itself is built on the remnants of an airplane! People u-u-used to get in 'em and, and, like, fly all over the world! Like birds! Once I figured stuff like that out, there was no stopping me. I wanted to be just like those people. I wanted to make great things! So I did! I DID make great things! I'm REALLY REALLY GOOD AT IT! Engineering and CHEMISTRY and MATH and LITERATURE! There's SO MUCH! INFINITE KNOWLEDGE! My appetite for discovery has never been not whet. My momma gave me a book about a caterpillar who ate and ate and ate, until it became a beautiful butterfly and flew away.
That's gonna be me someday.
A-a-anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! I started making toys! Simple ones, out of wood. Then I added m-moving parts that the other kids could move with their hands. My goal was to make things that if you pushed a button something happened, and I d-did that, too. Because, y'see, I'm really smart. And I learned to be smarter.
SOME kids thought they could take advantage of me and take and steal the toys but I set them straight by setting their hair on fire. NO ONE messes with Ms. Button.
That's when I discovered I'm, uh, a bit of a fire bug. It's not that big of a deal, really, nowadays I g-get it out of my system when I'm welding or heating metal. B-but sometimes I need to find a nice secluded spot and j-j-just raze something. Just an itchy itchy itch in the back of my head, I guess, sometimes. I've always liked blowing things up almost as much as I liked making other things. N-now making things to blow up other things up? W-well, THAT IS THE DREAM, IS IT NOT?
Wasn't all fire and brimstone! I looove chemistry. Very necessary for blowing things up. Not quite as good at it, YET. I made a water purifier! It was really shitty and it broke but I'm making another one. I also make bear traps and regular traps and, I guess, uh, infrastructure! I love making things. This post-apocalyptic world makes for g-g-GREAT challenge. Y'know? So many things to learn and do and see- it- it it- it's all too much! I can BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF! Sometimes I just wanna--- EXPLODE! But I can't do that, so instead I blow up other things! Sometimes. Like I said, it's not a big deal, really.
Naturally, as all great women of science do, I wish to SHARE my knowledge with the rest of the civilized world! Unfortunately most people in this backwater town are too dumb. But but but that's okay. My momma helps organize things. I would LOVE LOVE for there to be a library in Steelbird Landing! Best d-day of my life, that would be. I'm working it! Plus, that means everyone would give me their books for FREE! As long as I got to put them back. And I would put my books there, too! And if anyone tried to steal from it- I would just set them on fire!
And I FARM! I try too, anyway- I got help from some of the local subsistence farmers! I made little pulley systems that increase the farming, so you just pull one thing and all of it gets watered. And rainwater collectors! Potatoes! I love potatoes. Potatoes are the best thing in the world, second only to books, second only to Momma. You can use them to eat! And you can use them to make ALCOHOL! And alcohol can be used to set things on fire. And also trade! And also BATTERIES!?!? God isn't real but potatoes are evidence that he really really is!
...I hate the jungle. And all those monsters. Those freaks and savages in the woods like my biological father. And those people who believe in fake gods. Makes me sick sick sick to my stomach. Everything would have been FINE if nobody went crazy. But no! The disasters weren't enough. One day they're all gonna be dead and gone and only the sm-SMART people like ME will still be alive!
I have followers! Friends! They like me! I'm trying to teach people how to r-r-read. Improving literacy rates is vital for the growth of any society! I'd love to get it at at least 10%! The more people who knows how to read, the more people can teach other people how to r-r-read! It's like a disease! But a good one. The vaccination for literacy would be brain trauma, I guess. And I'd be a super spreader! Watch out, I'm contagious! Haha! Wait, no, maybe that's not the best metaphor. Did you know cholera spreads from dirty water?
But yeah anyway, I think people like me. Well, they haven't tried to kill me in a while, anyway. I'm a regular en-en-entrepreneur! I mean I wanna work on cars and everything but..there's too much! Right now I'm focusing on literacy rates! The Steelbird Public Library will take over the world! All the little kiddies will be even smarter than me. Well, maybe not, but st-st-still.
Anyway yeah that's me. You asked who I am and you got me!
By the way...you can just call me Bell, or Button, or Ms. Button. It's- it's fine, r-really.
¤ What do you want? Some day...some day I wanna burn that whole damn jungle to the ground.
After that, I wanna build a car.
Then...? I wanna make a new Steelbird. An airplane! I wanna make a new Steelbird and fly, fly, fly away, far from here. Then I'll return with treasures and knowledge! There's gotta be someplace out there for people like me. I've seen pictures of places where there IS no jungle. They can h-h-help us.
¤ What do you believe?
Truth. Truth truth truth. I think the truth is that we had something really good going and then we all screwed it up. Nature threw a little temper tantrum and all the weak-minded l-l-LUNATICS took the opportunity to go on murderous rampages. Steelbird Landing, and places like it, are the ONLY hope! Every where else is full of BRAIN DEAD MORONS! One day things will get back to how they used to be. I'm probably not gonna live to see it, though, but SOMEONE will, and they're gonna look at a big statue of me and say "Gee thanks, Belly Button, you really had something good going on."
¤ What do you follow?
If you're anywhere near as smart as I am, you probably g-guessed it. That's right! My kneecaps. No HAHA, no, it's my NOODLE, of course! My brain, my mind, that wonderful p-p-pile of electrified grey matter rattling around in my noggin! It's NEVER lead me astray. It IS me, actually. I'm my brain! What else would I follow, if not me my brain?
¤ A scarcity embodied:
(Time. Button has so much she wants to do and not enough time to do it. She was born in the wrong time. She yearns for a time that has past. To her, everything moves so agonizingly slow.)
¤ Basic Instincts:
I always have goggles and a mask. If not on my face, then on standby! Never know when a bunch of small particles are gonna fly in your face.
I always return to my garage.
...And I've got a lighter or a flint and tinder or a matchbox or a tinderbox on me. Just a little something to start a little fire.
¤ Spill Your Guts
¤ What do you most regret doing?
One time one of my fires got out of control. Someone had built a homestead on the outskirts- I didn't see it there b-b-because I was so excited, I really had the itch that time. I don't think there was anyone inside. At least I hope there wasn't. I didn't check. =
¤ Who do you owe?
I owe my Momma everything.
¤ What/Who are you addicted to? What are you willing to do to acquire it?
I'm addicted to...knowledge. Books. Stories. Scrap. I NEED a project to work on. I need to be DOING something, otherwise why am I even alive!?
¤ Who's intentions do you question?
There's a w-woman named Vineleaf that comes around to my garage. She says she only wants to learn how to read but she looks at my gadgets and my toys and my engines. And she looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. I don't know what she r-r-really wants from me, but sh-she really creeps me out.
¤ Who wants you all to themselves?
People in faraway places. Who-Gives-A-Fuck, probably. They hear about my hands and my brain and they want to get at me but I'm a solo operator! I'm a WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE! NO GODS NO KINGS!
Hear the Whispers...
S-s-sometimes, when one of my fires goes REALLY, REALLY HOT, and it's really really dark, and I'm really really all alone, I feel like it talks to me. I know it's not real. I know it's just that nasty nasty nasty l-light, up over my head. But it tells me to keep burning. It feels like I go on fire, too, and it feels good. I feel like I can turn into the King Midas of the inferno, and everything I touch melts away in my hand. I'll drown in the ashes. When it's over, there will only be cinders and peace. A Great Phoenix will rise and rule and soar and look upon my finest work and respect me. The Great Phoenix- that's what the fire says to me sometimes.
It's scary. I don't want the Phoenix to come h-h-here. Only SOME things need to be destroyed. Other things need to be BUILT. And I get to choose. Only me. Only Button.
So I usually bring a book to read while I'm setting fires. Just in case I need to get my mind off things.
¤Your theme song goes here, if you are so inclined.
I like writing her too much for her to only be used in like, 3 posts.
Name: Emily Dawson
Age: 20
Height and Weight: 5'4, 110 lbs
Appearance: A blonde girl with unusual, striking features. Her hair is curvy and unkempt, coming down to about chin height. She has a long face, with small eyes and a big, uneven smile. She is almost underweight, but she has been on a diet to eat more recently so her slender frame is looking more healthy than it ever has. She has blue eyes and fair skin. Her outfit usually involves a skirt and billowy, loose blouses. Her favorite color is blue and this reflects in her aesthetic.
The Issue: Schizophrenia
Emily was always a weirdo and would have been regardless of her diagnosis in her late teens. However mental illness certainly wasn't helping her case. Before the symptoms could be fully catalogued she had a couple of breaks and witnessed things that seemed utterly real. She briefly dropped out of college due to bouts of paranoia. She was convinced there was some kind of 13 foot tall tree monster stalking her. Emily began taking antipyschotics and anti-tremor medicine and wanted to go to therapy, where she's been a dilligent member ever since.
Before:
Emily was the notorious weird girl in the small town she grew up in. She has two loving parents, two brothers, and a sister, still living out there in the Midwest. Emily was always interested in the supernatural, "investigating" town curses and urban legends. She wanted to start a journalism club and find real evidence of ghosts. Failing that, actual news stories would do. Failing even that, she always liked math so maybe she could be a math person or something, she never really thought about it too much. She was an ambitious and ironically ambitious young girl. She wanted to do something, she just couldn't tell what.
The thing Emily became known for during her childhood and beyond was her talkativeness. She just doesn't shut up. Period. She always needs to have something, anything, to talk about. When there's no one to talk too, she talks to herself. Factoids, song lyrics, just describing things around her. She can also become fixated on random things and make them the primary subject of her ramblings. Needless to say this was quite ostracising, but oddly enough she never experienced much bullying for it. She never had any particularly close friends but people tolerated her harmless existence. She didn't seem very receptive to insults or teasing anyway. It was like insulting a window for being clear. No point. Emily has a favorite notebook she writes things in. Things she notices, thoughts, helpful nonsense. If she really does have to be totally quiet, she'll funnel her talkativeness into the notebook instead. The notebook helps her think.
Journalism became her passion, as well as trying to find ghosts. Or monsters. Anything, really. She moved out early, at 18, finding herself a dormitory at a college. Around this time was when schizophrenia reared it's ugly head. The Tree Thing, she called it, became a fixation for her. It just seemed so real. It wanted to get her. It wanted to get her dormmate and it ate dogs and cats and kids that went too far into the treeline surrounding the city. Was there a treeline surrounding the city? Sure felt like there was. This was a scary time for everyone, but Emily found herself returning to normalcy. She was taken care of. Medication and therapy. It wouldn't be so bad. The Tree Thing's existence was disproved by the pills she took. And the shaking stopped, too. It became hard to write things down when she was shaking.
But Emily's belief in the super natural only became stronger after experiencing this loss over her own mental faculties. She began to interview the people society called crazy. She became even more wrapped up in whatever strange forces lay at the edges of perception. It's so fascinating. She felt like she could talk about it forever. But she kept this part a secret- people would think she was being schizophrenic again. Sometimes she felt like it really was all fake. But the medicine was working, right? Right? Anything else she saw...it had to be real. She knows what it's like to see things that aren't real so if she takes the pills the anything else IS REAL. SUPER REAL.
ENCOUNTERS:
Emily has seen and written down strange occult markings in the forgotten underpasses and tunnels of the city. She has many things written down but among them are indeed "All is Vibration, Up is Down, Time is Circle, Doors Everywhere, Make Symbols." The symbols she sees are kept within her notebook, or notebooks, and she finds herself drawing them over and over and over again.
Even today she sometimes feels like something is watching her from the trees. She's gone into the woods several times to try and find that monster. Why? She's not quite sure. But she's seen dead animals and what look like offerings.
Sometimes her notebook and the drawings within are not how she remembered them.
Talents:
Note taker: Emily is ridiculously fast at writing things down and taking notes. She does it habitually at all times, it helps her focus.
Fast memory: She's got a sharp mind and a good memory.
Sketch artist: To add onto this, after years of practice she is a talented pencil artist.
Mental math: She's good at math.
Miscellaneous esoteric knowledge: Knows random trivia about random things.
Botanist: Has done a suspicious amount of research into plants.
Actions:
Avoid Harm 0 She's not particularly slow or cumbersome.
Endure Injury -2 Fragile.
Keep It Together +3 Has been pushed to the limits of reality and come away unscathed. Wants to see more, and wants to be validated.
Act Under Pressure +1 (+1 when subjects related to sketching, math, and botany.) Has experience being stressed. As long as she has her medicine she should be okay.
Engage In Combat -1 Has never been in a fight before.
Influence Other +2 (+1 because of studying) Not so much good with people, but has some experience with seeing the occult. Has written down many things she thinks might be related to rituals. Normal people are usually weirded out by her or disregard her, but that's not the type of "Other" she's trying to influence.
Sixth Sense +1 Dampened by her medicine..? Sometimes she feels like things are reaching out to her but she's just too blind to see.
Full Name: Violet Skye Sfyri Violet: The color violet Sky: A light shade of blue Sfyri: Greek word for Hammer
Nickname/Alias: Sky Age: 17 Gender: Female Race: Human Appearance Description: A wiry, tan girl of short stature. She has big, purple eyes. Skye has shoulder length violet hair tied into two ponytails. She's never seen without her lucky green hat. She likes to wear a light blue mechanics jumpsuit and boots. Her clothes are covered in straps to hold various satchels full of tools, and she usually is wearing a heavy backpack. Her left arm and right leg have been amputated below the elbow and knee respectively. They have been replaced with mechanical limbs of her own design. Allusion: Hephaestus, Greek God of the Forge
Personality
Personality: A good natured, self conscious girl who loves to make friends, even if she's quite shy. She likes making jokes but she's the type of person who's joke gets repeated louder, and everyone laughs at that instead. Often she gets lost in her own head, dreaming of designs for weapons, vehicles, and robots- the three things she loves most in this world. Clever and intelligent, except when it comes to people. But she likes people, even if they can confuse and hurt her with words. Sky wears her heart on her oil stained sleeve. She believes in the good of humanity.
Sky can be scared quite easily, not exactly being a very brave or confrontational person. She prefers to support others rather than face conflict alone. Sky also doesn't think very much of herself or her abilities, and she's struggled continuously with low self-esteem. She loves building and inventing things, but when she isn't doing that she's usually playing video games or listening to/ trying to create her own music. Sky is a creative type, and though she loves mechanics she's also trying to make arts and crafts of various kinds with just as varying success. Sky like to experiment or try new things in life, even if change can be scary.
Her main interest is in vehicles. Cars, trucks, ships, boats. Anything that carries someone from point A to point B. She loves it, she eats it up, it's her favorite thing and she's incredibly knowledgeable on the subject. She speaks to them like they're her pets.
Likes:
Creating and inventing Vehicles of any kind Cool Weapons Cool Robots Cool Cars Her Robo-dog People in general Heavy metal music Being alone, sometimes Compassion and kindness Her lucky hat Just relaxing and taking things slow Vale pride!
Dislikes:
Bullies Confrontation and arguments Destruction of creations Eating Scary movies Close-minded people Violence against humans and faunus
Motivation: Finding a place to belong Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Biography
Country of Origin: Vale Bio: Violet was raised by her adopted mother and father, Tiffany and Indigo Sfyri. She was born with a deformed right leg. Her mother was a human engineer and her father was an accountant, a poet in his free time, and a faunus. She loves them dearly. She also has an older sister, Azul. Azul is sixteen years older than her, and is a cat faunus like her father. The Sfyri family adopted Violet because they wanted another child but Tiffany was worried her age might cause complications.
Inheriting Tiffany's love of mechanics and Indigo's passion for creativity, Violet decided from a young age to give Atlas a run for their money as to which nation has the best tech. Mechanics, artificial intelligence, weaponry- Violet loved it all. She had a hard time picking which thing to settle down on. Being born firmly middle class meant Sky could go to a good school to further her passions. So she did. Azul became a soldier and when she came around to visit, taught Sky how to defend herself. Azul is kind of a short-tempered person so she wasn't the best teacher. They both find it funny in retrospect.
Sky's life changed one day when she and her father were visiting Tiffany in her place of work. Sky was 14, and already innovating in the field of artificial technology. However, mercenaries attacked the workshop, looking to steal its secrets and technology to sell and use to gain more power. This wasn't the main issue- during the attack the mercenaries opened the pathway for Grimm. A beowolf attacked her and her father. Her father almost lost his life, being severely wounded. Sky faired worse, losing her left arm. This stressful moment was also the day she unlocked her Semblance, Technopathy, which she used to try and help her family escape before the Grimm got her. They were only saved by the intervention of a Huntress.
That was the day she wanted to learn to truly defend herself and others so that no one could hurt those she cared about with her being helpless. Azul came over and their training picked up. Violet wanted to become a Huntress, just like the one that had saved her. Three years later, and here she is.
In the meantime she built herself an armored truck she named Baby Blue and a robo-dog named Robo-dog. She helped her mother with her engineer contracts, getting access to equipment she normally would not be able too. Her Semblance made her a great trouble shooting asset, as well, so she is in the good graces of many manufacturing workshops across Vale.
Combat
Weapon: Big Wrench
Big Wrench is a big wrench. It's a two handed crescent wrench, like a great mace. In the center of the crescent wrench there's a hole to fire projectiles from. The back of the Big Wrench has a stock and trigger guard, and receptacle to put in Cells. The crescent can spin horizontally, increasing its power.
The Big Wrench fires molten metal in many different forms. The simplest one a short ranged spray, like a liquid flame thrower. It can also be used to fire sharpnel or slugs. The molten metal has a sticky consistency, making it difficult for Grimm to get out of once it has them ensared. The spinning crescent can be heated up, creating a powerful impact point for enhanced damage. It uses custom-made reusable Cells full of hot liquid that she keeps in her heat resistant backpack/toolbox. The Cells can be enhanced with different types of Dust, but she hasn't experimented with it much at all due to how expensive Dust is.
Semblance:
Technopath: An empathy for machines.
Her Aura can be linked with machines if she is touching them. Her Aura gains strength from machines and her Aura protects the machines she touches. This includes vehicles, weapons, and devices. When touching a device she can control it and speak to it. It can "talk" to her, telling her what its seen, diagnose its own problems.
The machines under her influence become enhanced by Aura. They can also bend and move strangely organically, like they almost become alive. Cars can ben their wheels and chassis like limbs, weapons twitch when they sense enemies.
She can repair and interface with mechanical devices effortlessly, including her own artificial limbs. She's a master car driver and engineer.
A round faced woman on the shorter side with a pastel multi-colored pontail. She wears a long red scarf with white tips reminiscent of a fox's tail. Her fingernails and toenails are painted red and purple, with her feet being bare except for some foot wraps. She wears a short, sleeveless blazer with brass clasps connecting it together with the top two undone. Underneath that is a white shirt, and a tie that trails lazily out from underneath her scarf.
