Toxic's Manor

[Toxx]

Lucian

Name:
Lucian Pandora

Age:
Eighteen. (18)

Appearance:
Even from the point of view of a stranger, Lucian is obviously a rather....exotic looking young man. He stands at the height of 6'1, which is, in his eyes, average for a teenager his age. He weighs at something around the 150 to 160 mark, his frequent activities, sports, and general healthy exercise keeping his form both lean and muscular, which is obvious whenever he wears any of his own exercise equipment, I.E tank tops and shorts. Being tall, some might assume that he's rather clumsy, but it's honestly the opposite. Lucian moves with the confident sureness of an athlete or mentally fit young man. A veteran sprinter and jogger, with tight, sinewy muscles stretching along his legs and biceps - like a wire ready to pop, or a panther tensing for a lunge. Lucian's skin is a fair peach, or perhaps a fair olive color. Due to his fair skin, whenever Lucian blushes - which happens once every Solar Eclipse, mind you - his skin instantly heats up, becoming a splotchy, fiery red. A small, invisible amount of light red freckles dots the bridge of his slim nose.

His eyes are very stormy and chaotic, yet tamed and patient, shining with an inner amusement that only Lucian seems to relish. Not gray, exactly, or blue or brown or hazel, or green. His eyes are all colors, and no color, nothing fixed. His eyes are the kind of eyes that, depending on the light, were amber one moment, and hazel the next, right before a shining gold takes over the irises. The only constant in them is the oddly colored specks that floats around his irises, a blackish color. Another constant, is the 'flashes' of his irises. When angered, irritated, or annoyed, his eyes will flash, in a manner similar to lightning, turning his eyes from pure gold to electric blue for a second, before turning back to it's normal storm of colors. A narrowed, half-lidded appearance his eyes hold, they are lashed by his long, thick thin eyelashes, which have been described as "lashes" a girl could kill for. Lucian's features could be described more as "angular", or "handsome", with chiseled cheekbones and a sharp, yet defined chin.

His hair is a dark, silky, and feathery pool. While it isn't curly, his hair wouldn't be described as straight either. It can be called wavy, because, as stated, it was a mix of the two. It's also rare to see Lucian comb or brush it, as he prefers the mismatched strands and such. As for the accurate color description, it's dark...almost black in color with the occasional streak of an electric yellow running through, which is natural from his mother's side. His eyebrows, sharp and arched, matches his hair color, as in most cases.

Personality:
Lucian, at times, isn't the easiest person of all people to get along with. He is a man of many faces, a boy of many sides, and his moods blink in and out of anger, to happiness, and to curiosity in minutes and seconds. In a short note, the teenager could be described as loyal; for his undying faith, stubborn; for his refusal to give up on a task, and brazen; for his quick reactions, that sometimes get him into trouble. In a summarized version, Lucian is a confident, smooth youth who has his moments of excitements and stupidity, but is over-all intelligent and sharp witted.

[Cautious, Loyal]
Lucian was born with the ability of faith, and of loyalty. He's there by one's side when they need it, and is not afraid to lend a hand. However, for those around them, this side of him comes at a price. He is distrustful towards newcomers at first, and it takes a while for his protective, hard shell to crack, though this isn't a impossible feat. Another fault of this trait is that he can be privy and observational to that friend's worse faults, which can lead him into trouble, emotionally and physically.

[Stubborn]
Stubborn, Lucian has the belief that he can accomplish any task, no matter how hard, how despairing with the simple thought of being determined. A hardworker, the teenager never gives up, no matter the cost, and will stubbornly hold onto those close to him. Stubborn as an a--, it's hard to get out of an argument when you've engaged one with him, and convincing him otherwise of a fact is useless unless you have absolute proof, logical facts, and unwavering belief. So, with that being said, Lucian has a problem with authority. He's simply not one to listening to the orders of others, and will often act out on his own, no matter the consequences.

[Courageous]
He's a young man, and like most young men, Lucian has the ability to be unfazed, untouched by the actions and words of others. He enjoys diving into the fray, being on the front line, simply for the thrill-seeking and action, claiming that the back-lines are not as excitable as the front lines. At times, he's shown unmatchable courage, by sacrificing himself so that a friend may go on, so deep his loyalty runs. However, despite this, Lucian isn't an idiot - quite the opposite, actually. He knows when subtle actions are necessary, and rather enjoys being subtle and sneaky at times.

Over-all, Lucian is a rather exotic, loyal young man who enjoys his time of company and solitude.

Other:
None.

[Toxx]

Quaaaad

Name:
Keith Quaad

Pesterchum Handle:
ungodlyTerrorist

Color of text:
Dark Purple

Age:
Fourteen. (14)

Fetch Modus:
Array

Strife Specibus:
shotgunkind

Biography:
Keith is the son of a really, really...exotic couple. His mother is a former Irish terrorist whom escaped her lifetime prison sentence and fled her country, while his father is a hunter from the Mississippi wilds. It's really weird, trying to piece together why they decided to marry each other, but Keith doesn't really care about that. Due to the two influences in his life, Keith spent his entire childhood and teenaged years around two things - explosives, and guns...although, sadly, his mother was forced to take away the explosive decoration once a bunch of really weird things happened, which may or may not include Keith's 'playmates' going 'boom boom'. They lived in a relatively normal city, with surprisingly normal houses, and surprisingly normal neighbors...which the small family hated with a passion. Keith spent his time shooting animals and pots and pans and insects and plates with his father's shotgun, and later on, his own shotgun, whilst also spending his time on the computer, slaving over the keyboard and owning others with his uber explosive skills. Life was going great for the teenager - he had a future as either the worst stealth hunter in the world, or the world's best bomb enthusiast. He collected dynamite in his spare time, obsessed over every little thing, and generally had a fun time being him.

Personality:
Keith is probably one of the chilliest guys you'd ever see on this earth. His eyes are constantly half-lidded and laidback, and the boy seems to slouch constantly, moving with a slow, yet oddly fast pace that showcases his 'take your time' mentality. He has the tendency to say 'dude' a lot, and vehemently dissuades any observations of him being constantly high. He's a relatively kind guy as long as he likes you, and he has the tendency of saying a lot of cuss words for absolutely no reason in his regular sentences. Keith tends to be the fan of the 'fist-bump', and although he's passive unless bothered, you wouldn't want to make him mad or angry - which is relatively hard in it's own right. He'll blow your head off with his shotgun before sticking grenades down the bloody cavity and blowing your corpse into smithereens. Over-all a really chilled, funny, loyal, and exotic guy that has mood swings like you wouldn't believe.

[Toxx]

Steeeel

Name:
Devon Steel

Pesterchum Handle:
deviantKing

Color of text:
Dark Red

Age:
Fourteen. (14)

Fetch Modus:
Array

Strife Specibus:
yoyokind

Biography:
Devon's life isn't anything terribly tragic or interesting. He lived in a high-end manor somewhere in the city, with no one else but himself, sadly. His mother died during birth, and his father was killed on the front lines. He was originally in an orphanage, before he was anonymously emancipated, and started receiving a daily stipend from the government. Due to this, he managed to buy an awesome house, with awesome yoyos - something he has always been fascinated by - and an awesome butler that only comes out of his room to clean and cook. His life was taken over by games and videos, along with the occasional school and sport, and Devon lived a rather average, exciting life.

Personality:
Calm, casual, and intelligent are three words that best describes Devon. He is a very laidback guy that doesn't get angry easily, although he is quick to become annoyed, and will slice someone down in pure spat fire if bothered tremendously. He is a nice enough guy - maybe a bit too aloof and uncaring, but if you're not, in his eyes, frustrating, than he'll be kind to you as long as you return the favor. Under stressful situations, Devon is usually the guy who takes charge, unless someone else does, which, in that case, he sits back and observes the proceedings with an analytical air. He's not specifically quiet - he is, of course, emotionally withdrawn and comfortable with being alone, but Devon also enjoys cracking sarcastic jokes to release unwanted or unneeded tension. A cool teen that may seem a bit eccentric, but is just in control of his emotions, and a bit of a rebel. Often very vulgar, even when he's not annoyed or angry.



Name:
Devon Steel

Pesterchum Handle:
deviantKing

Color of text:
Dark Red

Age:
Fourteen. (14)

Fetch Modus:
Array

Strife Specibus:
glovekind - he also uses a bunch of kicks.

Biography:
Devon's life isn't anything terribly tragic or interesting. He lived in a high-end manor somewhere in the urban part of New York City, with no one else but himself, sadly. His mother died during birth, and his father was killed on the front lines. He was originally in an orphanage, before he was anonymously emancipated, and started receiving a daily stipend from the government. Due to this, he managed to buy an awesome house and an awesome butler that only comes out of his room to clean and cook. His life was taken over by games and videos, mma/wresting training, along with the occasional school and sport, and Devon lived a rather average, exciting life.

Personality:
Calm, casual, and cool are three words that best describes Devon. He is a very laidback guy that doesn't get angry easily, although he is quick to become annoyed, and will slice someone down in pure spat fire if bothered tremendously. He is a nice enough guy - maybe a bit too aloof and wreckless, but if you're not, in his eyes, frustrating, than he'll be kind to you as long as you return the favor. Under stressful situations, Devon is usually the guy who takes charge, unless someone else does, which, in that case, he sits back lets them take hold of the stirrup. He's not specifically quiet - he is, of course, emotionally withdrawn and comfortable with being alone, but Devon also enjoys cracking sarcastic jokes to release unwanted or unneeded tension, and hanging out with friends; loneliness was a big part of his childhood, and company is definitely needed/preferred. A cool teen that may seem a bit eccentric, but is just in control of his emotions, and a bit of a rebel. Often very vulgar, even when he's not annoyed or angry.

[Toxx]

Name
Keith Hatcher

Age
Nineteen. (19)

Also Known As
Chaos - Although the people that knows him by this are most-likely dead.

Appearance
Keith is a tall, lean, and muscular young man that sports the build most would see in athletes. He has constantly half-lidded purple eyes that seems too relaxed and observatory for such a dire world. His hair is weird - basically a giant mess of wavy, feathery black hair that goes in between his eyes, over his ears, and around his head in a sort of bird's nest-like thing; he obviously hasn't used a comb or brush since this whole thing, but, for some reason, the hairstyle looks endearing on him. He usually keeps on a purple and white hoodie, dark black jeans, and comfortable sneakers, while his black backpack is strung over his shoulders - he likes keeping on his small backpack for some reason.

Abilities
Keith, or Chaos as his alias dictates, has the ability to manipulate and use the Kinetic Energy stored inside of his body. Thismeans that he can use the energy to make his physical attacks immensely more powerful - which is used whenever fatal blows are necessary, considering Keith's regular attributes are naturally enhanced due to the chaotic Kinetic Energy that's constantly swirling through his bloodstream. Keith can also channel the energy outside of his body to use in a variety of different ways. The energy itself is usually multicolored, although the common colors are purple, black, and red - usual colors associated with chaotic mythology. He can blast a stream of Kinetic Energy from his feet, to jet himself through the air in a manner reminiscent of flying or floating. Keith can also use the Energy in standard blasts of energy, which will, once impacted with something, simply send them flying with the force of a speeding truck, or even explode on impact with the force of C4 or an actual live grenade. The Kinetic Energy can also be channeled into objects to make it, virtually, a ticking time-bomb or an instant bomb. When items are charged with Kinetic Energy, it is evident by a purple glow.

The limitations to this is rather obvious and normal. The energy will diminish after constant, 24/7 use, and will have to be recharged with food or drink - which is why Keith stuffs his face with Doritos and Sprite almost constantly. If the Kinetic Energy is overfilling his body, Keith can accidentally explode - it won't harm him, but it can harm anyone around him - whether it be ally or enemy, so Keith has to do things to bite away at the corners of his energy - be it exploding dice, or using it around himself in numerous other ways - which can sort of give away his 'X-Genes' secrecy. He also has to have actual physical contact with things to charge them with Kinetic Energy.

View on Mutants
Since he is a mutant, Keith's pretty much like 'Fuck the racists'. However, since he's a bit too chilled to really care about it, he doesn't care much about mutant rights or whatever. He does hate the annoying pricks that thinks they're so high-and-mighty when compared to a mutant, and so he goes out of his way to be rebellious.

Personality
Keith is probably one of the chilliest guys you'd ever see on this earth. His eyes are constantly half-lidded and laidback, and the boy seems to take everything in stride, already adapting to this whole x-gene thing. He has the tendency to say 'dude' a lot, and vehemently dissuades any observations of him being constantly high. He's a relatively kind guy as long as he likes you, and, along with dude, any variation of 'motherfuckin' is enjoyable to utter. Despite everything pointing to the fact that Keith is just an extremely laidback and cool man, he often goes on 'nightly pillages' where he, basically, purged the city from criminals by beating their asses. It's not because he hates crime; it's just to practice and flex his powers, and criminals and crooks are the easiest targets to take out without the feds getting on your ass.
Keith tends to be the fan of the 'fist-bump', and although he's passive unless bothered, you wouldn't want to make him mad or angry - which is relatively hard in it's own right. He'll blow your head off with an energy blast before sticking grenades down the bloody cavity and blowing your corpse into smithereens. Over-all a really chilled, funny, loyal, and exotic guy that has mood swings like you wouldn't believe. Seems to be developing sociopathic tendencies due to this 'superpowers' thing, but since he's so chilled and calm, you won't even know it. It shows because of how brutal and graphic his way of fighting is - and because he doesn't hesitate with anything - even if it's something morally wrong.

History
Keith's life isn't anything terribly tragic or interesting. He lived in a rather shitty apartment somewhere in the city, with no one else but himself, sadly. His mother died during birth, and his father was killed on the front lines. He was originally in an orphanage, before he was anonymously emancipated, and started receiving a daily stipend from the government. Due to this, he was able to afford his apartment, along with a better education, and eventually, college, where he plays quite a bit of sports. When he noticed his mutation, at the age of 18, it was when he was arm-wrestling some jock prick and he sort of...slammed the dude's hand through the table...a steel table. He was always physically more capable than his other classmates, but that was sort of odd. Thankfully no one looked too far into it - the guy had to go to the hospital, and his arm was completely shredded and broken, but it was all blamed on faulty furniture. For a full year, Keith has been training his power in secret, and sharpening the powers on the numerous scum that dots the city.

Other
Keith loves the feeling of running and jetting across buildings at night, since it makes him feel like some sort of uber ninja God or some shit. His favorite snacks are Doritos and soda. Lots of soda..

[Toxx]

Name: Devon Grimm
Age: Sixteen. (16)
Gender: Male

Appearance: 5'11, with a slim look about him, Devon isn't necessarily intimidating at first glance. He has a slightly muscular structure due to rough nights in his original home-town, but, other than that, there isn't anything specifically amazing about him. He has dark purple eyes that tends to glow whenever his powers are activated, which is almost constantly, along with feathery black that flits gently over his left eye, leaving his right eye the only one visible. Devon's 'style' is mostly dark-colored hoodies, slim jeans, and dark-colored converse; he doesn't like showing much skin. He tends to wear awkward smirks or smiles, to 'soften his personality', but they are obviously forced and fake.

Personality: Devon is certainly an interesting individual once you first meet him. Sharp witted, with the brain and social attitude of a lashing whip, or a steel sword, Devon isn't someone you would want to get into an argument with. While he is a relatively soft-spoken, easy going boy who enjoys the solitary life rather than testing his lack-luster social skills with others, Devon also has a crimson tongue - no, not a silver tongue, but a crimson one. He will slice you down with pure spat fire if necessary, which, when dealing with annoyances, it most definitely is. He has a sort of mature air around him. Quiet, with a slight frown tugging at his mouth. Years of solitary life has also made him rather calloused on the inside, despite his cold exterior, and he secretly yearns for friends and company. Recently, he has been trying to be...nicer and socialize more, but so far he hasn't had any luck. Devon also has a very bad...anger-issue. Whenever he does get angry, which he obviously tries hard not to do, the boy's powers tends to get a bit...wonky. He loses control, and is a danger to both him, and anyone around him. The best thing to do for when he's in this state, is to either knock him out, or subdue him - or you can tell him to calm down, which usually works as well.

Biography: Life threw Devon a gigantic middle finger, even at birth. The child was seemingly abandoned on the darkened urban streets of New York, when the criminal underbelly squandered the streets, and where the scum of the earth festered in their own crap. He was lying there, in an alley, for a whole day...right behind that familiar old trashcan that stunk of rotten fish and molded bread. His health was deteriorating from the brisk coldness, and any hobo who found the baby did nothing but laugh psychotically at it with a pointed finger. The baby's emotions were haywire; it was hungry, cold, tired...that's when the genetic powers came to surface. Devon's mother, or father...or even both were probably psychics, and powerful ones at that. Whilst laying in the gutters, the 2-day old baby was sobbing it's little heart out. There was absolutely no hope for it to survive. That is, until something happened. A hobo actually examined the noise, and to his drunken surprise, it was a hairless little snot! Wrapped in an extremely fluffy, and only slightly dirty quilt that would do a heavenly job of keeping the coldness away.

The hobo had reached for the blanket, pulling at the seams and growling as he forced it away from the screaming baby. It was night time again; anyone who saw the dastardly, execution-worthy deed kept to themselves, selling drugs, prostituting, or doing whatever they were doing previously. But little Devon...he wasn't having it. A scream; an abnormally loud roar escaped the baby's throat, and the man was suddenly blasted back into the wall, actually breaking through the solid concrete. He didn't even have time to grunt in pain. All of his bones had been completely disintegrated, and the hobo was dead before he even hit the wall - a heart attack, or cardiac arrest. Regardless, the scum was dead...and that's all that mattered. But not really. The baby lied there, gone of all energy, and unconscious. But...a mysterious figure exited from the hole in the wall, revealing himself to be the same hobo that supposedly died. Rusty brown hair, straggly beard, ragged clothing...Vincent Leone tore off the wig, revealing a shiny bald head, and brushed off the extra shavings, showing a sharp, neatly trimmed goatee. The owner of one of the shadiest orphanages got his new freak...

Growing up in the orphanage was, to be blunt, completely shitty. Devon didn't have any memories of his telekinetic blast as a baby, and so he took to the grueling, horrible life of an orphan rather crappily. He was often beat by the matrons, fellow 'freak haters' themselves, and generally tried to make himself as small as possible, keeping to his small room unless he had chores to do - which he often did, which was only rewarded by more beatings and starvation. However, at the age of fourteen, whilst cleaning the gutters of the orphanage, Devon suddenly fell, having been pushed off of his ladder by an older boy. The boy was Butch, and let me tell you, Butch was a complete asshole. The boy was 17 years old, with a fat, yet arguably bulky build, a bald head, and the growings of facial hair. May I also say that he's the son of the orphanage's enigmatic owner, Vincent Leone. Long story short? A small fight insued, which ended with Devon having a snapped rib, two black eyes, and four missing teeth. The fourteen-year old fought back valiantly - that is, curling into a fetal position and attempting to endure the punches, but in the end, he was beaten. However, Butch wasn't finished. The boy withdrew a pocketknife from his pocket, and slowly walked towards Devon with evil intent.

That's when the boy completely snapped.

He leaped to his feet, tackling the bigger boy with the force of a bull dozer. Bony fists were brought back, and then slammed brutally into the larger boy's face...one...two...three times, all with the same telekinetic force from before. Butch, by this time, was absolutely shitting himself in fear. Literally. He was sobbing, slobbering, and screaming. The orphanage was empty - everyone out on a field trip other than the two boys and the owner of the orphanage, Vincent. Long story short, again? Devon, not in-control of himself, basically clenched his hand, an invisible force pressing Butch into a small ball until bones after bones snapped. The pocket knife was laid out somewhere, discarded. However, Devon was suddenly thrown back to a boot to the face, and Vincent stood there, chuckling, while Butch slowly stood, more ...wolfish than man.

"You did well, Devon." The man smiled, revealing fangs. Everything went black.

'Shortly' after, Devon woke up in a hospital, hooked up to an IV machine. A nurse told him that he was found lying outside of the hospital, with critical injuries. Torn throat, major rib damage...the boy had made a full recovery in the time of his coma. He was told that it had been months since he had been awoken...but the boy wasn't listening. Overcome by anger, he pushed the woman away and ran out of the hospital. No one could stop him, as it seemed as if the wind was forcefully moving out of his way as the boy ran; he didn't even know he was doing it. He stopped in front of the orphanage...and everything went black, once more. He awoke on top of a rooftop right near the ruins of the orphanage. There was fire everywhere, and police officials arrest Vincent, who was staring up at Devon with that same damned grin.

The boy lived on the streets after that, never staying in one spot. Life was absolute shit...he only had rudimentary knowledge on his powers, and he often used the brute force and power of it to crush/throw/kill any hobo or criminal/mugger who bothered him...until he was notified about the training facility.

Powers: Devon has a unique case of raw Telekinesis. He can control, move, shift, crush, and generally affect, in a variety of ways, different objects and beings in the universe. This was first discovered by him when he, as a child, accidently pushed away a bully - throwing the other child backwards quite a few feet, with the accompanying shockwave exploding the television and ceiling lights. So far, he has seen that he can throw around objects and items at varying speeds, push extremely heavy items, crush objects and items (IE a car), and a variety of other different methods one would see in a Telekinetic. However, he does have his limitations. So far, he can only 'pick up' items that weigh approximately 10 ton or less, and constant, 24/7 use can give him killer migraines and headaches, even going as far as to have him faint. Furthermore, he's still learning about the variety of applications he can use with his power.

[Toxx]

Civilian


As 'Sin'


Name;;
Sinpher 'Sin' Legionaire

Age;;
Sixteen. (16)

Affiliation;;
Neutral/Bad - He's a mercenary, and works for the highest bidder. However, he can be persuaded to permanently help or join the Titans.

Personality;;
Sinpher is rather...distant, once you actually meet him the first time. Easily dismissive of anyone other than people he find worth talking to or interacting with, and a rather mocking, sharp, and sarcastic person once forced to interact with someone loud or, in his eyes, annoying. He has trouble making friends; his rather...stoic, cold voice could be extremely intimidating to some, and his appearance tends to run away others. Another thing that sets him away from others is his, as you guessed it, actual personality. Naturally quiet and calm-headed, Sin tends to think things through quickly and calculatingly, a tribute to his immensely tactical and intelligent mind frame. He could be seen as cold and brutally honest, due to him not soft-footing over insults or wordings, but if you actually manage to befriend him then be prepared for an overly-protective guardian. He will go to the end of the world and back for someone that manages to befriend him, and he can either be your worst enemy...or your greatest friend.

History;;
Sin's original origins are unknown, but he was found, in a crater, by a tribe in Africa hidden away from the rest of the blossoming cities and civilizations. Both of his adopted parents were terminally ill, while his sister was too young and frail to help out the family. Therefore, every day, he headed outside with the men of the village, collecting water, hunting prey for food, and even stealing when times got rough. It was during one night, when he was in the nearby forest, chasing an elk, that he heard the emergency horn. It was a piercing, shrill sound that reverbrated through his eardrums and shook him to his very core. Deciding to let the deer go, Sin had ran to this village, leaping over obstacles, and going as fast as his seven year old body would allow. It was then that he saw the burning remains of his village. Hundreds of emotions ran through him, but one in particular stood out.

Rage.

He hated anger, he was a pacifist, but he knew that the nearby tribe destroyed his village for not siding with them during the civil war. It was unforgivable. The little boy ran towards his mother's hut, only to see her dead, with her throat slit open raggedly. His little sister was no where to be found. His father? Probably being slaved off. Emotions taking over, Sin had collapsed onto his mother's dead body, swearing vengeance onto the Yoksho tribe. That night, once he was done crying, Sin had walked into enemy territory, bare-chested and bare-handed. They all laughed. They mocked him. They mocked his deaths. Let's just say that the tribe was wiped off the minimap.

Sinpher, after that night, was found by hunters, whom turned the 'Devil Child' into the secret services. For years he went under numerous experiments, mocked by doctors, nurses...his powers locked away, but bubbling and growing under the surface. Long story short? He escaped, destroyed the lab and all of it's inhabitants. He then, at the age of 11, began his reign as a 'mercenary', all the while training himself to the best of his abilities.

Powers/Abilities;;
Sin is proficient when it comes to the acts of fighting and combat, his tactics swift, efficient, and incredibly violent. Blessed to be as smart as an actual cyborg, or cursed, Sin is rather intelligent in fights as well, with razor quick instincts and the sharpest wit you'd ever see. His martial art, firearm, and sword fighting prowess has yet to be seen to it's farthest extent, but it is obvious that he's extremely skilled, having been seen absolutely decimating an entire mini-army of lethal practice drone sent at him by Slade - for testing purposes.

Power-wise, Sin was originally born with a single 'nanobot' inside of his body, granting him super intellect, speed, strength, durability, and general reaction time. As he grew up, each nanobot grew bigger and more diverse, eventually filling up every single pore in his body, virtually making him a cyborg in anything but blood. Experiments has enhanced this power, giving him a skin-tight, cybernetic armor that's lurks underneath his flesh, and, once summoned via a mental command, covers his body in it's protective, incredibly durable embrace. While in his suit, which is made of a still-unknown material as durable as steel yet as light as aluminum, Sin is more denser, able to take heavier damage, along with a few in-built things such as a high-powered jet installed into his feet, and with mechanical 'wings' on his back, collapsable. He never goes all out in his fights, leaving him mysterious and a dangerous enemy to have.

Crush;;
No one.

Boyfriend/Girlfriend;;
No one.

Other;;
He has done jobs in the past for Slade, and some jobs for other heroes. Is that okay?

[Toxx]

Name
This is actually unknown to him...but he called his 'real name' S. Just 'S'. He doesn't allow anyone to call him that, however, and neither does he call himself that.

Alias
Superman has dubbed him 'Ultra'...

Designation
B02

Age
Real age is unknown, apparent age is...around 18.

Gender
Male

Appearance
Ultra is a relatively tall young man, standing at 6'1, with a ripped, muscular build that is reminiscent to something you would see on Superman; it obviously boasts strength, but agility and speed as well. His skin is fair; not pale, but not tanned, and it is lightly marked with the occasional battle scar that hasn't had the time to heal. His eyes are narrowed and seemingly constantly annoyed, but unlike Superman, his eyes are a dark crimson that doesn't seem to change despite him using his powers. His hair isn't anything special - a standard raven color, lightly flitted up at the sides; seems to have a crimson tint, but only in certain lightings. Ultra generally wears whatever he wants, but his 'normal wear' is a form-fitting dark red shirt, blue jeans, and black converse.

Ties to Hero
Sidekick and 'Adopted Son' to Superman.

Power(s)
Ultra possesses the same powers as Superman, although to a lesser degree. First of all, his strength is increased to an almost uncalculated degree when compared to humans. He has the ability to bend and tear apart reinforced steel with a casual air, throw around equipment that weighs hundreds of tons, and even kick a tank far into the sky. His durability is likewise enhanced - Ultra doesn't feel the impact of most physical weaponry, and sidearm fire doesn't pierce of bruise his skin. High-caliber rounds does pierce flesh and bruise it just as greatly, however, and he can still get thrown back from the force. His other attributes are 'super' as well; his agility and dexterity is levels above most superhumans, along with his speed, memory, x-ray/laser eyesight, and stamina. Ultra has the ability to fly at the same amount of speed he can run at - which is just a bit under the sound barrier. He is still growing, and therefore Superman worries about the boy's morality; if he becomes a villain...well, it's basically a younger Superman running amok.

Abilities
Ultra is an experienced hand to hand combatant, having been trained by Superman to defend himself and the 'world', apparently. He is also experienced with numerous other weapons that are pertained as 'lethal', and he has enhanced intelligence, allowing him to come up with plans on the spots.

Weapons/Gadgets
His body.

History
Ultra...well, let's just say that his actual history is really, really jaded and shaded. It has been retold, re-edited, and shot down by himself so many times. The truth is, is that he was shot down from Krypton. He doesn't know how, or when, but he was stuck in a little pod made of an unknown material for...years? Decades? Regardless, he was found, as a baby, by Superman, and henceforth trained and raised by the man. They automatically knew that they were blood relatives as soon as Superman picked the baby's pod up those faithful years ago, and the newly dubbed 'Ultra' was raised in secrecy. Superman taught him many things - first of all, about Justice. The boy had a wild streak; he was violent at times, aggressive the next, and he always talked about how he would brutally rid the world of crime his own way. This led Superman to rub those thoughts out. He taught Ultra that, due to his extreme powers, he had to lessen his blows. Learn to help the criminals rather than kill them. It helped...to a certain degree. Life continued as is for a while; no one knew Ultra existed. That is, until the Young Justice were created.

For the past month, Ultra has been keeping to himself; hardly anyone has seen him. He has been training, mostly, or exploring the base.

Personality
Ultra is certainly an interesting individual once you first meet him. Sharp witted, with the brain and social attitude of a lashing whip, or a steel sword, he isn't someone you would want to get into an argument with. While he is usually a headstrong and determined teen who enjoys the solitary life rather than testing his lack-luster social skills with other humans, Ultra also has a crimson tongue - no, not a silver tongue, but a crimson one. He will slice you down with pure spat fire if necessary, which, when dealing with annoyances, it most definitely is. Rugged, with a slight frown or smirk tugging at his mouth, and his eyes focused, Ultra has mediocre social skills, at best, although his brash, stony, and rebellious nature tends to force him into ironical social interactions despite the boy's meager attempts at avoiding them. In general, he is a strong and intelligent young boy who would rather date a knife, rather than an actual living, breathing female. As long as you're respectful, kind, and generally not an abominable hindrance, then you can expect him to treat you at arm's distance - sure, he can joke sometimes, but he's not your friend unless he really likes you. If you're a jerk, then you can sort of expect a severe tongue lashing and a disdainful flick of the middle finger. Anymore than that? Well...let's just say that he doesn't have the best reign on his temper.

He tends to hate those who screams and yells for no reason, and he's actually pretty laidback if you don't piss him off.

Friends
He doesn't really count Superman as a friend, honestly.

Family
Adopted Father - Superman. He's also a relative blood-wise, considering they're both Kryptonians.

Crush/Relationship
Open

Other
Done!

[Toxx]

Name: Jackson Taylor

Age: He's a young adult. (19, will be 20 in December.)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Jackson is tall, standing at 6'2, with lightly tanned and calloused skin that comes from spending the majority of his entire life outside, in the sweltering heat. His facial features are rather strong and chiseled to a certain degree, his baby fat completely gone, leaving a ruggedly handsome jawline, and a face that seemed to be carved from marble. That's a bit of an overstatement, but, at the same time, it goes well to depict his facial structure. His body build is, as you would believe, rather muscular from, as you can also believe, spending the majority of his entire life outside, in the sweltering heat, working on tractors, hunting for wild game, and wrestling with chickens, cows, and horses. It goes rather well with his fair skin, and even greater with his shortly cut black hair, which slightly wisps upwards into a natural faux hawk. A light sprinkle of sun freckles dots above the bridge of his slim nose, which is slightly crooked on the tip, due to being broken numerous times in bar fights. During the plane crash, Jackson was wearing a red and gray flannel shirt, torn blue jeans with a buckle of a wolf fang, and cowboy boots. His shirt was promptly torn into shreds due to being tossed around mid-air, and he has a few welting red scars on his torso from the crash.

Personality: Jackson is certainly an interesting individual once you first meet him. Sharp witted, with the brain and social attitude of a lashing whip, or a steel sword, he isn't someone you would want to get into an argument with. While he is a sarcastic, 'keeping to myself' young man whom enjoys the solitary life rather than testing his lack-luster social skills with other humans, Jackson also has a crimson tongue - no, not a silver tongue, but a crimson one. He will slice you down with pure spat fire if necessary, which, when dealing with annoyances, it most definitely is. Quiet, with a slight frown tugging at his mouth, and his eyes focused, Jackson also has mediocre social skills at best, although his attitude tends to force him into ironical social interactions despite the man's best attempts at avoiding them. He could be seen as cold and brutally honest, due to him not pussy-footing over insults or wordings.

In general, he is a stoic, distant man who would rather date a knife, rather than an actual living, breathing female. As long as you're respectful, kind, and generally not an abominable hindrance, then you can expect him to treat you at arm's distance - sure, he can joke sometimes, but he's not your friend. If you're an idiot, then you can sort of expect a severe tongue lashing and a disdainful flick of the middle finger. Anymore than that? Well...let's just say that he won't be as forgiving. He's rather easy to get into an argument with, and despite him attempting to stay calm, he's also easy to anger and annoy. Jack is inwardly 'kind' despite his hard exterior, and he doesn't mind helping others; although he may seem gruff about it. He is a nice enough guy - maybe a bit too aloof and uncaring, but if you're not, in his eyes, frustrating, than he'll be kind to you as long as you return the favor. Under stressful situations, Jackson is usually the guy who takes charge, unless someone else does, which, in that case, he sits back and observes the proceedings with an analytical air.

Jackson could be pretty laidback if you catch him on a good day.

History: It's not anything heart-wrenching or dramatic. Jackson was originally born on a farm quite a ways away from Dallas, Texas, with his father and younger brother. His father was a hearty old cowboy, being in his late 40s, with a long gray beard and a shiny bald head. He went by the name of 'Ron'. Jack's younger brother, Kent, was only younger than him by one approximate year, and he was scrawny, quiet, shy, and caring, more often then not spending his time tending to the gardens, or calculating the taxes on their old dial up computer. Sadly, his mother had...passed away after having Kent, which was the secretive reason for why the young boy was so shy and soft in the first place. It wasn't anything Jackson or Ron could help with, so the two simply left Kent to his own thoughts. Eventually, the boy got his head on straight, although the silence and softness remained his defining traits.

On the farm, he had a multitude of tasks to perfect - chasing down pigs and chickens, lifting bales of hay, picking corn, and more physically-demanding things. He perfected them, and quickly became a hardy 'rancher'. He lassoed horses, fought with cows and bulls, and journeyed into the mountains to herd sheep, and into the forests for days upon days, to hunt prey for the winters. It all became a part of his character, and he would have preferred the difficult lifestyle to anything else. He could even remember the first time he had gotten stuck in the large forest that surrounded their home. He had been 10 at the time, and he had went into the forest, chasing down their old hog. The boy only had on some bleached jeans, being bare footed and bare of chest. Long story short, Jack chased the hog miles into the forest, just as a storm hit, forcing him to take shelter. He stripped a few branches of their leaves, and used the leaf stems to tie the branches into a make-shift lean-to, which actually helped him survive until the next day, when his father, and Kent, came riding in on a horse.

After that day, Jackson quickly began melding into the country life. He went skeet shooting with Kent whenever the two made their way into the towns, learned to enjoy whiskey, had his first brawl in a bar, and started taking weekly camping trips in the tough winter. The boy turned into a man within years, and his skills of life melded into his mind. How to build tools in the wild, how to use a bow and arrow to kill game, the fundamentals of using a machete as a tool of craft, a tool of survival, and a pretty damn good weapon. This rock hard life became his life...until that faithful day. He had been on that damned plane, heading towards Vancouver for a small vacation - doctor's orders. Jackson could still remember that shitty 'landing'...if it was even a landing.

He had been in his seat, listening to some Skillet, and generally resting...when the panicked screams began. Taking out his knife, which he had kept in his boots, Jackson had cut out his oxygen mask and practically slammed it onto his face, just as the altitude dropped. He could feel the panic, the fire, the metal slicing into his tough skin...and then darkness. When he had awoke, he was dozens of feet underwater. Swimming lessons paying off, Jackson swam towards the nearest shore he could see, the salt water sealing up his cuts and awakening him to a life of Hell...or could it be paradise?

Other: None.

[Toxx]

Kazuto Mamoichi

Name: Kazuto Mamoichi

Nickname(s): He doesn't have that many nicknames. 'Orange' is one...but...if you call him that, you can expect either a boot to the face, or a bokken up your ass. Not literally. Maybe. He doesn't like nicknames.

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Nationality: Japanese

Appearance: Kazuto is a tall young man, standing around the height of 6 feet, give or take an inch. His skin is rather...peachy, not pale, yet not exactly tan. It sort of has that tone you would see out of someone that spends an equal amount of time outdoors as he does indoors. His build is also peculiar. While most in school are either bone thin, or a bit overweight, Kazuto has a very lean, streamlined, and muscular look about him, from years of Martial Arts and Kendo training. He weighs something close to 160 or 150, as this goes hand in hand with his build...let's just say a kick or punch from him will send you flying with broken bones and broken dreams. Similarly, due to his surprising strength and speed, Kazuto has been seen slicing right through targets with his dulled bokken. This has caused investigations to go out and see if he has sharpened his homemade wooden sword, but that is not the case. It's just Kazuto's skill when it comes to swords to come out into play.

His eyes are very stormy and chaotic, yet tamed and patient, shining with an inner amusement that only Kazuto seems to relish. Not gray, exactly, or blue or brown or hazel, or green. His eyes are all colors, and no color, nothing fixed. His eyes are the kind of eyes that, depending on the light, were amber one moment, and hazel the next, right before a shining gold takes over the irises. The only constant in them is the oddly colored specks that floats around his irises. Another constant, is the 'flashes' of his irises. When angered, irritated, or annoyed, his eyes will flash, in a manner similar to lightning, turning his eyes from pure gold to chestnut brown, before turning back to it's normal storm of colors. A narrowed, half-lidded appearance his eyes hold, they are lashed by thin eyelashes. Kazuto's features would be described as 'angular' or 'mature', with chiseled cheek bones and a sharp, yet defined chin. an orange Kazuto

His hair is an orange, silky, and feathery pool. While it isn't curly, his hair wouldn't be described as straight either. It can be called wavy, because, as stated, it was a mix of the two. It's also rare to see Kazuto comb or brush it, as he prefers the mismatched strands and such. As for the accurate color description, it's orange. His eyebrows, sharp and arched, matches his hair color, as in most cases. Due to his hair color, he often gets teased about it...which, even more often, ends with the assailant being kicked through the window of the high school.

Personality: In general, Kazuto is a stoic, distant young man who would rather date a knife, rather than an actual living, breathing female. As long as you're respectful, kind, and generally not an abominable hindrance, then you can expect him to treat you at arm's distance - sure, he can joke sometimes, but he's not your friend. If you're an idiot, then you can sort of expect a severe tongue lashing and a disdainful flick of the middle finger. Anymore than that? Well...let's just say that he won't be as forgiving. He's rather easy to get into an argument with, due to him coming off as aloof and uncaring to the lives of others, and despite him staying calm, he's also easy to anger and annoy. Kazuto is inwardly 'kind' despite his hard exterior, and he doesn't mind helping others; although he may seem gruff about it. He is a nice enough guy - maybe a bit too cold and uncaring, but if you're not, in his eyes, frustrating, than he'll be kind to you as long as you return the favor. Under stressful situations, Kazuto is usually the guy who takes charge, unless someone else does, which, in that case, he sits back and observes the proceedings with an analytical air.

Kazuto could be pretty laidback if you catch him on a good day.

Biography: Born on the streets of Kiriyoto, a rather urban, violence-driven city, Kazuto's parents weren't very...famous people. They were middle classed men and women, with his father, Saki, being a firefighter, and his mother, Lucy, being a teacher for mentally challenged children. Life growing up wasn't all that exciting. Kazuto spent his time either studying with his mother; he was a very intelligent and sharp boy growing up, and despite his mom being a handicap teacher, she was also a genius, and taught Kazuto better than what most college professors could ever hope of doing. When he wasn't studying, Kazuto spent his time at the nearby dojo, learning self defense techniques with the old sensei there. Turns out that the young orange haired boy had a knack for fighting, and he quickly went up in ranks, being invited to the Championship Kendo Tournament at the young age of ten. Of course, he won it, and was rated number one youngest Kendo Champion in all of Eastern Japan. The prize money allowed him and his family to move out of their shitty home, and after moving, Kazuto continued his training, becoming the Kendo and Martial Arts leader of his new school, and generally working towards a future. That is...until all of this happened.

Crush: N/A

Other: He carries a sturdy, dark-colored, strap-on backpack that contains a few bottles of water, some fruit snacks, and his bokken, which he is forced to carry around due to being the club's leader, and sadly, advertiser. The bokken's hilt, and part of it's wooden blade, could be seen hanging from the bag.

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A G E : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
G E N D E R : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]

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L I K E S : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
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F E A R S : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
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O T H E R : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
T H E M E S O N G : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
D I S A B I L I T I E S : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]
P E T S : [color=#808080]Here.[/color]

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