FacePunch's Gallery of WIPs

[FacePunch]

Do you know what S'tann hates more than week days? Holidays. Especially Halloween. Seriously; humans had an entire day dedicated to gorging themselves on sweets and wearing the most ridiculous clothing they can find. So when Halloween rolled around and people started hanging up decorations for their so-called 'holiday,' S'tann made it a point to pop every balloon he came across. Sure, the guys putting them up looked at him like he was some kind of monster. But S'tann had accepted his role of asshole long ago. Now if only these homo-sapiens would accept their role as subservient members of society and allow extraterrestrials to rightfully rule over them, they would start to get somewhere. Legacy noticed that he was quickly approaching the side of one of the dorm buildings, shifting around his molecules and lowering his density to allow the Martian the intangibility necessary to continue on this course unimpeded. He stepped effortlessly inside the apartment-like living space of some poor college student, only giving the room a cursory glance before proceeding forward. A young blonde appeared out of a nearby side room dressed only in a towel, announcing her presence to S'tann with a horrified scream. "What the fuck do you think you're doing in my fucking room, you fucking creep?" She cried. S'tann's emerald green eyes flashed a bright red and the girl hit the floor, unconscious. It took a few minutes for the headache to go away but it had been necessary. He didn't need another breaking and entering on his record and he certainly didn't need sexual harassment on his papers either. "I was never here." He whispered, popping out of her room and back outside.

Well, that was a colossal waste of my time. He thought bitterly. I wouldn't have to do that all the time if people were less sensitive. Who cares if I saw you in a towel when I walked into your room uninvited?

Martian Boy soon reached the mess hall. The building was large, like many of the other buildings on campus. It house the majority of the food available for consumption. It also happened to house hordes of ravenous teenagers, who were most certainly being far too loud and obnoxious for S'tann to enjoy his meal. Ugh. Lunch always sucked. The only thing that could possibly make it even worse is if it started to-

S'tann felt a single drop of water land between his eyes, roll down his nose and pool at the tip. He watched as the droplet fell into the grass below, growing more and more depressed as he waited for it to splash against the blades beneath it. It wasn't long before a second droplet joined the first. And then a third. Soon enough, the campus was being covered in a light drizzle of rain that made S'tann's attitude even more sour. Rain. He hated rain. It made everything wet and slippery and blocked up his seventh sense. "Freddie." He mumbled. S'tann distinctly remembered the forecast for this morning had been cloudy skies, but no chance for rain. A quick psychic scan indeed confirmed the Martian's suspicions: Fredrick was sad today. "Oh boo fuckin' hoo." He muttered. S'tann crossed the lawn and grasped the door handle. He was about to pull it open, before he noticed the approaching jock. A devious smile crossed Legacy's face as his eyes glowed red. "Hey, thanks f-" The guy's thanks were interrupted by his face slamming into the glass. As far as that nobody was concerned, S'tann had opened the door for him. In reality, it t'was a simple trick of the brain. Illusions were quite useful for general dickery.

S'tann density shifted his way through the glass door and the student who was now clutching his bleeding nose. "Asshole." He growled, shoving the door open in anger. Martian Boy responded with a quiet snicker. Now, to find something to eat. S'tann hummed a simple tune, browsing the contents of the mess hall. It didn't take long for the Martian to find what he enjoyed and stack his tray high with various meats and vegetables. "A feast for a king!" S'tann announced. Next, he needed a table. One full-scan of the room later and S'tann found a group of people who would be the least annoying to sit with of all present. He hovered his way across the room, slamming his tray down on the table. A number of people jolted up, surprised at the sudden noise. "Hey ya bitches." S'tann greeted them. "Oh God, not you." One of the students immediately stood up and left. Unfaltered by her reaction, S'tann tore into his meal with a rare sort of fervor that he rarely shows. One of the things S'tann didn't hate was food. Earth food was delicious. Especially steak. Mmmmmm. It was as if heaven had descended upon this slab of dead cow flesh and blessed it with the flavor of a thousand worlds.

It wasn't long before S'tann was interrupted, however. A girl holing a flyer approached the table, looking at him specifically. Oh no. He thought. A social event. The bubbly brunette's mouth opened up and she formed a number of words in the English language that translated into blah blah blah, I'm a little blowjob princess with no friends please come to my lame party blah blah blah. "No. Fuck you. Kill yourself. Ect. Leave me alone." That made the plebs scatter to the winds. Well...And everyone else at the table...Whatever. They couldn't handle S'tann's greatness.

Hold on. Hold the phone. I have a brilliant idea.

S'tann glanced around, making sure that no one was looking. He quickly changed his appearance into that of a certain beloved hunk. Fenris Murray, specifically. The disguise was accurate down to the molecular level thanks to his Martian physiology. 'Fenris' stood up from the now-empty table and approached Mari Grayson and Fredrick Blackwell from behind. I'm such a prick. I love it. "Hey there." S'tann said slyly, taking a seat across from them. "You two wouldn't happen to be going to that party later, right? Because I'd love to see you there." He winked.

[FacePunch]

"Miss Grayson, I'm hurt."

S'tann put his hand over his heart. Her choice of words were quite bemusing to the devious Martian, who had earned the nickname "Satan" partially because of how he acted and partially because of how his name sounded in the English language. He didn't give two shits what anyone called him. It doesn't matter what anyone says about you.

They can call me whatever they want. All that matters is what I choose to be. S'tann thought. And today I chose to be a dick. Like most days. It's a proven fact that dicks get to have all the fun.

The half-breed stood up and looked as if she planned to leave. Heh, he'd managed to get her panties in a bunch with only a couple of words and a disguise. Riling people up was so simple these days. S'tann chuckled. "Honestly, you'd probably smell better covered in vomit. So really, I'm doing you a favor." Things were going according to plan. Fredrick looked to be as wet as a hooker in a thunderstorm. Mari was moments from keeling over in disgust. Yes, things were going nicely. That is, until Catboy McThiefson popped up out of literally no where and started rattling off more bullshit than you'd find on a cattle farm.

"It's one of my many talents." 'Fen' replied, slapping Jack's hand away with enough force to hurt. "If I were really S'tann, I would have-"

Legacy's threats were cut short by an all-too familiar arm wrapping itself around his shoulder. Fenris stroked S'tann's neck, nipping at his ear in a display that humans were suppose to find pleasurably. S'tann wanted to vomit. Actually, he wanted to snap his own neck and jump into the nearest pit of hell fire and burn for all eternity instead of maintaining contact with that insufferable bag of garbage currently touching him. S'tann stood as still as a statue, only freed from his hypnotic stance by Fen opening his mouth and whispering into Martian Boy's ear.

"I'm imagining the most efficient means of torturing you to death if you touch me again. I'm thinking of flaying off your skin and shoving your eyeballs up into your ass. Perhaps I'll cut off your testicles and feed them to you while I'm at it."

Legacy glanced around at the rest of the group for a brief moment, who seemed just as perplexed as S'tann at Fen's raunchy and shameless display. It was basically masturbation, if you gave it a thought. Which Mari did. Of course, the girl didn't even consider the possibility that no one wanted to hear her say it out loud. The mere notion of being a part of Fenris' self-pleasure was enough to make S'tann physically sick. "God, I hate that guy." He muttered. Fenris wasn't done. Ooooh no. He just had to push one last button. The incubus sauntered over to S'tann side and DARED to put his putrid lips on S'tann's utterly superior face, and leave his poison drool all over the Martian's cheek.

"GGAAAARRRGGHHH!"

S'tann let loose a wordless cry of livid anger and stupefied frustration. He planted his hands around his own throat, whipping them backwards and snapping Fake Fenris' neck. S'tann's body hit the floor in what appeared to be a lifeless heap. He waited a few seconds, letting the image sink into Fenris' mind in an effort to disturb the bastard's sleep tonight. After a time, the Martian snapped his neck back into place and rose to his feet. He made the seamless transition between Fenris' body and his own human form, a scowl firmly on his visage.

"Fuck you, bitch. And fuck everything about you. Fucker."

With that little outburst out of the way, S'tann turned heel and walked towards the exit. That's when he noticed the arrival of Kieran and wizard with the stupid face. Richard something or another. He decided to reply to the Kryptonian's question. "Oh look, more beta males. You're late; party's over. Nothing to see here." S'tann's scowl deepened, giving the wizard a double take.

He couldn't read Richard's mind.

That was infuriating.

S'tann quickly made his escape, density shifting through a nearby wall and exiting the mess hall. He immediately noticed a group of people gathered around a convulsing girl. In his peripheral vision, he briefly noted a boy running away from the scene screaming bloody murder. The Martian shoved his way through the crowd. "Get out of the way. Move it, morons. Move!" Legacy bent down to one knee, examining the victim. "Don't touch her. She's having a seizure." A student wearing a dark blue shirt informed Martian Boy. The phrase EMT-In-Training stitched on the front of his clothing told S'tann that the stranger probably knew what he was talking about. But human medicine was less than nothing compared to the power of a Man from Mars. "Do not think to command me, fool. I have power beyond your imagination." That's the second time I've said that this week. Great, now I have a catchphrase. Only imbeciles have catchphrases.

Legacy gently placed a hand on the girl's forehead. His eyes glowed red, and his fingers density-shifted into her skull. Once inside, they grew longer, making contact with the brain. Direct mental contact made telepathy leagues easier than a simple wireless connection. S'tann face contorted in concentration. He fought to break through the intruding electricity that had done this to her. He needed to correct the electrical cause ways between the brain and the muscles before she accidentally injured herself. It wasn't long before the girl stopped moving entirely. It was better to shut down her motor controls than allow her to hurt herself or someone else. Roughly twenty seconds later, the girl's eyes shot open and she took a sharp intake of air into her lungs. S'tann removed his hand from her skull, helping her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" The EMT asked. The girl nodded. "Thank you for helping m-" She started to speak, but stopped when she noticed that S'tann had disappeared. "Where'd he go?" Someone asked. "Who was that, anyway?"

S'tann, now in his native Martian form, floated above the campus. His robes fluttered about in the wind as he turned and looked towards the Academic Quadrangle. That's where the alleged perpetrator ran. He was the most likely suspect for the attack; based on his telepathic scanning of the witnesses compared to his own readings of the girl's nervous system. S'tann closed his eyes, scanning the brains of everyone nearby. A killer migraine formed in the back of S'tann's skull as he searched.

Then he found him.

A mind, panicked, guilty and afraid, running towards the Quadrangle. Legacy took off through the sky, pursuing this 'Kyle Lancaster.' He needed to find out why this boy attacked the other student, and he needed to bring him to justice.

That's what Manhunters do, right?

[FacePunch]

My head felt like it was on fire. Couldn't see anything. Couldn't feel anything. No noise or taste or smell. Just void. Nothingness. I toyed with the idea that I've finally found my healing factor's limit and was now paying for my sins in hell. 'Course I knew better than that; I'd been like this before. Last time somethin' similar occurred 'cuz I was chasing down Nuke in Vietnam and got caught inside a napalm bombing run. Napalm. Nasty stuff, burns people to nothin' but charcoal. That was the second worst pain I'd ever experienced. 'For a while it had been cemented as numero uno. Today was worse. Much worse. Somebody once told me that you don't feel nothin' after the first 500 degrees. Bullshit, I say. I felt at least 1000 there before my nerves were fried. Professor Dickbag had the place rigged with a frickin' nuke. A frickin' nuke! That freak was so paranoid that he managed to smuggle in a nuclear weapon just 'ta use as a self destruct device. Well, Thorton, your stupid bomb worked just fine. Everything's gone. Now there's a square mile of Canadian wilderness that'll be unlivable for the next hundred years or so. Not 'ta mention the hundreds of dead base personnel and my own current predicament. I can't believe I let Romulus get in my head. Shoulda seen the signs a long time ago. Been nothin' but a puppet ever since...well. As long as I can remember. 'Cuz that piece of crap whipped me scrubbed my brain clean of any memories that didn't feature his sorry ass.

And then there was light.

Really, really blinding light.

It took a second for Logan's vision to clear up. The first sight he was greeted with was a helicarrier descending from the clouds, Quinjets swarming around it. Ah, crap. On top of everything else, Wolverine was minutes from being captured by SHIELD's cronies and strapped to a table in some dark bunker to be experimented on for the rest of eternity. No way. Not if James Howlett had anything to say about that. Only, he couldn't move his arms. Or anything besides his eyes for that matter. Wolverine strained to examine the burnt out clearing for any means of escape. Or even just somewhere to hide. Nothin'. The entire facility had been turned to ash and the forest was splinters. If SHIELD saw his body, they'd take it in a second. Even if he was dead, an entire skeleton's worth of primary Adamantium was priceless. There wasn't enough money in the world to buy something so rare and so valuable. A quinjet touched down at the edge of the crater just in time for Logan's hearing to return. The roar of the plane's engine shook his new eardrums, threatening to burst them. Come on come on come on. Heal faster, damn it! The jet's ramp lowered itself into the snow, and a pair of agents dressed in hazmat suits made their way out. Based on how they were wielding their weapons, neither expected to find any danger here. A third agent exited the Quinjet, pointing a Rad detector towards the crater.

The threesome slowly made their way deeper into the crater. Wolverine's organs were healing as fast as they could; but until his muscle and sinew started to reform, there was nothing Logan could do but watch. One of the SHIELD agents pointed straight at Logan. "Hey, you see that?" He whispered. "Yeah," the other guy responded. "Is that a metal skeleton?" The agents picked up the pace of their little jog. Crap. Wolverine thought. "Is- Are his organs...regrowing?" The hazmat agent holding the rad detector asked, astonished. "Whoever that is, they're not dead. Look at the eyes. It can see us." The final agent pulled a radio from his belt and reported Wolverine's location to whoever was on that helicarrier in the sky. No no no no no NO!!

One of the agent's raised the butt of his rifle, slamming it against Wolverine's unprotected metal skull. Darkness enveloped his mind as his eyes went limp. "Yeah. Yeah. He's definitely alive. Of course, director Fury. We're taking him in now." Were the last words Wolverine heard before his mind was blanketed in unconsciousness once more.

[FacePunch]

S'tann scoffed in disgust as he watched Kyle attempt to speak, but offer no excuse or explanation. He brought one of his oversized fists back, prepared to strike the pinned aggressor when Kieran intervened. Ugh. That moronic Kryptonian probably thought he was 'saving' some defenseless kid from the big, bad Martian bully. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to brawl. How utterly barbaric. S'tann was doing his job; that's why he was at Corrigan. To learn how to succeed his uncle as Manhunter of Earth. A Manhunter doesn't let criminal scum escape righteous punishment for their misdeeds. It didn't matter if Kyle was 'sorry.' It didn't matter if it was an 'accident.' He could have killed someone! He may not have meant to, but murder is murder. It was criminal negligence at best.

"He also clearly attacked that girl. If I hadn't been around, there's no telling what sort of damage he would have done. He's a danger to everyone around him. I'm taking him in!"

S'taan briefly considered taking up Kieran's challenge and fighting him; show everybody that this Martian meant business. But that wasn't an option, as much as he wanted to. J'onn would kill S'tann. He deplored his nephew's behavior enough as it was, but starting fights with the ward of Superman? I wonder how long the 'my uncle's a professor' excuse would last then? Legacy thought.

The Martian's thoughts were interrupted by the approaching Fishstick and his pleas for diplomacy. Sensible enough, S'tann supposed. Except for one small detail. "He should be scared!" S'tann growled. "Fear the law. Fear me." Okay, so that sounded really cheesy. Even for an alien.

Another voice, louder than all the rest, waded into the situation. Everyone went silent when they realized who was addressing them: Jason Todd. The school's most badass gym teacher. You'd be an idiot not to respect him; this is the guy who died and crawled back from the afterlife. Twice! S'tann could only wonder why he wasted his time teaching physical education and combat classes to a bunch of whinny children when he could be running around the streets of Gotham City, kicking the shit out of guys like the Joker and Mister Freeze. Ah, the life of a vigilante. How so very exciting. No rules. No regulations. No misguided moral compass. Just one guy, his guns and a whole lotta baddies in his way. An intriguing life style for sure. But that was S'tann's destiny. He was to be J'onn J'onzz's legacy. He was to be the Martian Manhunter.

Todd ordered the Martian to let Kyle go. S'tann hesitated for a moment, looking at the boy's terrified visage and at Jason's commanding gaze. He should probably let the kid go. But...They can't just let him walk away, after what he did. It wasn't right.

"S'tann." Martian Boy froze. He knew that deep, guttural accent from anywhere. The boy removed his foot from Kyle's chest at J'onn's request, taking a step towards his uncle. Kyle's hopeful expression made S'tann heart boil. He had to let it go, however. If Uncle J'onn wanted something, S'tann obliged. He was the only one S'tann would listen to without hesitation; because J'onn was in charge. A fact that had been drilled into S'tann's mind from an exceedingly young age. The two Martians looked at one another, their faces emotionless to any onlookers. they appeared to be having some sort of staring contest. In reality, they were telepathically probing one another. Reading the other's emotions, as Martians did back when they populated the red planet.

"You were too aggressive, S'tann." The Manhunter finally said. "Violence begets violence. How many times must I tell you, a Manhunter fights only when they must?" That always pissed S'tann off. "We are the protectors of the innocent, yes. But we are also the vengeance of the fallen." J'onn sighed. "S'tann." He began. "You know as well as I do that Kyle is not a threat to you. Simply read his surface thoughts; he never wished to hurt Miss Rita. You were right to detain him. But you were not right to assault him. We fight when we must, but our objective is to correct their course. Rehabilitation is key to the justice system. Without mercy, we are no better than the criminals. Do you understand?"

"Yes, uncle." Legacy replied. "Excellent. Now get to class. I do not wish to hear of you causing trouble again."

Legacy looked over at Kieran Kent, Kyle Lancaster and the blonde girl whom J'onn had referred to as Rita. His crimson gaze seemed to bore into their souls. Specifically Kyle's. Perhaps he'd been too heavy handed. If Kyle had wished, he could have used his powers on S'tann and defended himself. But he hadn't; it could have been out of fear. Or maybe out of mercy. The motive was unclear to the Martian Boy.

"Culpae poenae par esto." S'tann quoted, before jumping into the air and shooting off into the sky. He flew towards the science and math wing of the Academic Quadrangle. He was late to Nuclear Physics with Martin Stein, which wasn't unusual in and of itself. S'tann was always late to his classes. Except for criminal law with Renee Montoya. He didn't hate that class much at all. During the flight, S'tann contemplated all that had transpired. He wondered how his cousin would have handled things. She probably would've stopped to comfort the kid before taking him out to ice cream. He pondered. Then he would have promised to do better and never leave the dorm without his skin covered up. She might have even asked Ted Kord to make him some sort of non-conductive skin graph that still allowed him the convenience of touch. But not you, S'tann. No. You just had to prove how tough and strong you were! Show everybody how worthy you were of succeeding the great J'onn J'onzz! In the process, you managed to drag yourself even farther away from your destiny. You moron. It should've been simple. Anyone else could'a done it. Arrogant prick. Never do anything right. Why even try? You know you won't succeed. No point in beating around the bush about it.

[FacePunch]

| NAME: |

Kade R. Wilson

| ALIAS: |

Ravager The Terminator

| AGE: |

17

| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |

Enhanced Strength: Kade possesses superhuman strength on-par with his mother and grandfather. Without his Nth metal armor, Kade maxes out at around one ton. With his armor, he is able to lift up into the multi-ton range, usually hanging around 2-3 tons. He has, under extreme duress, lifted a five ton cable car filled with passengers for upwards of two minutes. His arms were next to broken afterwards, however.

Enhanced Speed/Reflexes: Due to the metahuman serum passed down by Rose Wilson, the new Ravager is able to move at superhuman speeds. He can block a hail of bullets when concentrating and has even managed to tag Bart Allen in a sparing match. His speed has impressed the likes of Batman and Hawkman, as well as Donna Troy and Beast boy. He can sprint faster and longer than a cheetah. Kade's speed is arguably his greatest asset. Without the Nth metal armor, Kade is marginally slower.

Enhanced Endurance/Stamina: Ravager's endurance and pain tolerance are far above that of any normal human. He can operate for weeks without food or water. It takes a significant amount of time and effort for Kade to become tired or weary. Under the worst conditions, Kade has stayed conscious despite breaking the majority of his bones and losing most of his blood. He can endure excruciating torture due to his natural ability to dampen his pain receptors given to him by the serum in his mother's blood.

Enhanced Senses/Intelligence: Much like the previous Ravagers, Kade's mental faculties are accelerated by a factor of 9. This allows him to strategists on the fly and process stimuli more quickly than ordinary human beings. His sense of hearing have been boosted to the point of developing a sort of 'sonar,' that allows Kade to feel minuet changes in air flow and barometric pressure. This affords Ravager a rudimentary form of sight to replace his missing eyes. He has further enhanced this phenomena via a high-pitched electronic clicker hidden inside a ring placed on a necklace that constantly goes off at a pitch too high for the normal human ear to perceive.

Healing Factor: Kade Wilson has also been granted a modestly accelerated healing factor which enables him to recover from physical injuries much faster than most humans, which supplies him with great longevity. This ability has limitations, as he can not regenerate lost eyes or limbs, although he can heal from fatal injuries such as being shot multiple times, stabbed with a sword through his vital organs or great impacts such as falls from great heights and hits from super strong metahumans.

Expert Swordsman: Kade Wilson's first toy was a sword. He has spent every day of his life practicing the art of swordsmanship for hours on end. His mentors included Katana, Bushido, Batman, Ra's al Ghul, Deathstroke, Ravager, Lady Shiva and many others. His increased intelligence has allowed him to commit hundreds of thousands of moves to muscle memory. He has mastered the arts of Kendo and Iaido and dabbles in Tantōjutsu.

Martial Artist: Much like his grandfather before him, Kade traveled the world to train under the greatest martial artists known to man. Many of the same men and women who taught Kade the Way of the Sword also shared their knowledge of unarmed combat. He is skilled in American boxing and Taekwondo, as well as having training in Judo and Aikido.

Nth Metal Armor: A suit of armor made form the alien substance known as Nth Metal, one of the most durable metals in existence. The armor was a gift from Hawkman and Hawkgirl to Deathstroke many years ago, which he has passed down to the various Ravagers who have customized the battle suit to fit their specific needs and wants. The armor enhances the wearer's physical abilities to a much higher level and absorbs impacts to protect the wearer.

Promethium Katana: The Promethium Katana was a gift for Kade given to him by his grandfather, Slade, for his tenth birthday. He treasures the weapon above all else, going so far as to name it "Betty" and speak to it when he's alone. Promethium is one of the most durable materials in the universe, capable of withstanding blows from the most powerful beings on earth with nary a scratch. It cannot be melted by acid or burned by fire. Betty is sharpened to such an edge that it can, with strain, cut through other earthly metals in a single slash. The Katana features an electronically powered device that super heats the edge of the blade, further increasing the weapon's cutting power.

Other Equipment: Cybernetic Auditory Enhancement clicker, flares, small explosives, a small Tantō knife, and various throwing knives.

| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |

Blind: Kade lost both of his eyes a few years ago. Due to this, he has to rely on his enhanced hearing to 'see' using a form of sonar. The sonar is accurate up to 80 feet away. Past that, Kade has trouble discerning various non-human shapes.

PTSD: Ravager the Terminator suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He suffers from severe nightmares, extreme anxiety and, on occasion, auditory hallucinations. Kade is the most prone to anxiety attacks when in the presence of scarecrows and crocodiles. He refuses to talk about the incident with anyone, including the school's therapist. The little information he has shared about his PTSD is its connection to his missing eyes.

Sensitive Hearing: High-pitched sounds and sonic weapons cause Kade paralyzing pain. An Electromagnetic Pulse can disable his hearing assistance devices, such as his ear implants and sonar clicker.

| SAMPLE POST: |

"Kade, pay attention!"

A fist slammed into Kade's chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending the fifth Ravager flying. Kade landed with a hard thud against the wooden floor, a burst of echolocation revealing his grandfather charging forward. Kade barely managed to roll out of the way in time. Slade's knee snapped the boards of the gym's floor like twigs as he fell to one knee. Ravager swiftly kicked up, landing on his feet and ready to face Slade once more. Slade moved forward, continuing his previous aggression with two swift side-kicks in quick succession. Kade had to block the first with his forearm (which hurt like hell) but managed to side step out of the way of the second. The ex-mercenary took a step forward, throwing out a pair of jabs with his left hand and then immediately following it up with a 1-2 combination, a single jab and a right cross. Kade continued to back up, slapping away the first two jabs. The third jab breached his defenses and grazed Kade's cheeks, allowing the final right cross to land squarely on Kade's nose.

"Offense, Kade. Hit me!"

Baring his teeth, Kade unleashed a spinning hook kick on his much older opponent. The strike landed cleanly on Slade's chin, sending him reeling. Kade, capitalizing on the successful kick, gave chase. He hit the first jab on Slade's core and the second one closer to his neck. He quickly followed with a straight right to the head and a final left hook to the temple. Slade shot out a wild uppercut, forcing Kade to dip right and doge the strike. The two reset, a faint smile on the old merc's face. "Very nice." He said. "But can you keep it up?" Slade dashed forward suddenly, firing off a combo of jabs and crosses that forced Kade to back peddle, keeping his arms up to protect his head. Kade attempted a counterattack but was quickly shut down by a snap kick from Slade.
Pushed back about ten feet by the kick, Kade spat the blood out of his mouth onto the ground. Slade didn't give his grandson an inch, closing the distance in the blink of an eye and transferring that momentum into a flying bolley kick. Slade's foot rammed into the side of Kade's head, sending his grandson through a nearby wall an landing in the adjacent hallway.

"Urghhh. Crap." Kade muttered, pushing a chunk of shattered concrete off his chest. His head hurt like there was no tomorrow. Slade appeared from the kade-sized hole in the wall. He grabbed the younger boy by his black karate gi, pulling Kade to his feet. "Alright, alright. You win, old man. You win." Slade ruffled Kade's hair, pushing him down the hallway. "Come on; let's get you cleaned up. Your mom wants you looking respectable for your visit to Corrigan." Kade groaned. "Why are you sendin' me to some prissy boarding school for capes? There's nothing they can teach me that you can't." This caused Slade to sigh. "If I had my way, you and I would still be running around Gotham and Metropolis putting down super villains. But Rose wants more for you. That's why she talked to Gordon's girl into letting you in; she seems to think you can be better." Kade just shook his head. "Still can't believe you gave up mercenary work for this." He said, waving around at the dojo. "Well, it was this or spend the rest of my life in Belle Reve. Now move it. The interview is in an hour and a half."

| NOTES: |

6'1, 205 pounds
Son of Rose Wilson, the previous Ravager and current Deathstroke. His father's identity is unknown.
Only ever wears his armor when he has to.
Half-Japanese, half-European, full badass.
Fluent in English, French and Japanese.
He's turned himself into an alcoholic in an attempt to drown away his nightmares. He has a love-hate relationship with Barcadi Scotch.

Armor

[FacePunch]

Doctor Eric Saxer's Lab in Little Sicily, Lost Haven

Polemos' boot stomped down into a large puddle that covered the sidewalk, drenching his jeans in water. Luckily Chike's worn leather boots were adequately watertight and kept his socks relatively dry. The villain turned antihero spun around the corner, sprinting down an alleyway within his reach. He deftly hopped over a dumpster that dominated the center of the alley. He took a moment to knock the two ton trash bin over, spilling its contents in the way of any potential pursuers. Chike continued on his way, turning onto the next street and moving swiftly down the side of the street, vigilant of any patrolling police cruisers. The weight of the unconscious super soldier hefted over Chike's shoulders was barely worth calling an encumbrance. Chike bounced off the wall of an adjacent shop to avoid an unaware couple of teenagers exiting said shopping establishment. Polemos soared over the kids' heads, landing effortlessly and without losing momentum on the other side. The two pulled out their cellphones and started to record Chike immediately. His speed and agility was obviously superhuman, something Youtube couldn't get enough of.

Bystanders looked on as the strange meta ran at the speed of a cheetah, dodging around old ladies and single moms struggling to carry groceries, all the while hoisting an unconscious man in United States military fatigues over his shoulders. A number of individuals retrieved their cellphones; only one of them seemed at all concerned about calling the authorities. The man, perhaps in his mid twenties, spoke loudly into his phone, describing Chike in detail. "Damn." He cursed silently. His enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up both sides of the conversation perfectly. From what the dispatcher was saying, Polemos figured the police would arrive two and a half minutes before he reached his destination. What's worse, the serum he'd taken would be wearing off any minute now. If the police caught him out here in the open, without his powers, Chike was doomed. There had to be another way. Something Polemos could do to escape the attention of the cops. But what?!

Then the answer hit Chike like a train.

Or, more accurately, a giant hammer.

Chike felt his feet leave the ground. His vision blurred; but the distinct taste of blood and the spray of red that covered his face told him all he needed to know. Something really had hit him. Hard. He forced himself to sit up, leaning his head back. Once the pain subsided his vision soon returned. He was inside what appeared to be a pet store; only, there was a massive hole where the front wall had once been. "Urrrgh." Chike gurgled, spitting up blood. His ribs hurt like Tartarus. He wiped the blood from his face with the edge of his sleeve. What in the name of Zeus was that? Had Chike been hit by a car? Polemos stood, stumbling towards the front door, clutching his chest.

"You, mortal! You bare the mark of Olympus!"

W-Who? What?

"Dark-skinned man! In the stables! I address you!"

Chike pushed the door to the pet store open, the tiny bell attached to the frame ringing as he stepped outside. "Who are you supposed to be?" Stood in front of Chike was a man unlike any he'd ever met. The stranger stood at a towering nine feet tall. His thighs were twice as large as Chike's head and his arms were thicker than tree trunks. His most striking feature, however, was his hair. It was long; reaching down to his waist. And it was spikier than a porcupine. Honestly, Chike would have mistaken him for a Super Saiyan if it weren't for his hair being jet black. His appearance was made stranger still by his choice of attire. Golden armor and crimson robes, along with a golden two-handed warhammer strapped to his back.

Image References

For the hair:



The Armor:

"I am called Thune Xavior, of Aegis. I must have words with thy High Council of Magic." Chike gripped his broken ribs tighter, a bewildered look on his face. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. "High Council of Magic- Wait a second, why'd you hit me?!" Polemos yelled, shaking a fist at the giant. "Indeed. Your highest authority on all things arcane. I have information that is vital to their protection of this realm. Oh, and my sincerest apologies for striking you. Your energy is...similar...to that of an enemy of mine. T'was my mistake." Chike sighed. "Look. I don't know anything about magic or realms or whatever. But if you can take me home before the cops show, I'll help you out. I know a lady. Or goddess. Whatever." Thune's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Ah! You mean to take me to this universe's version of Olympus. Perfect! Surely the gods will know how to proceed. We are off to your abode, then, peasant." Without warning, Thune wrapped a massive arm around Chike and the unconscious super soldier, flying into the air.

"Whence are we heading, mortal?!" He screamed. "Take a left on Pine!" Chike yelled over the sound of rushing wind. "What is this 'pine' you speak of? I see no forest!"

"Just turn left!"

---

"Your ceilings are quite small on this world." Thune complained, ducking under the door frame as he and Chike entered the home of Eric Saxer. "Doc! Where you at?" Chike asked loudly. The motley pair of miscreants made their way up the two-story house's stairs, entering the crowded laboratory that made up the entire second floor. Chike expertly weaved his way between the various tables covered in expensive equipment and fragile glass vials. Thune, on the other hand, managed to knock down more than half the machines between himself and the doctor. Eric placed a palm against his face at the sight of it. "Who's this imbecile?" He whined. "Just..Don't." Chike answered sharply. But it was too late. "I am called Thune Xavior! I hail from the land of Aegis. Which god art you, might I inquire?" The big lug introduced himself twice as many decibels louder than what was necessary. "I'm the god of kiss my ass. Now, can we get to work? I haven't slept since yesterday and, frankly, I want to get you two out of my life as soon as possible." Eric and Chike worked together to strap the unconscious super soldier to the operating table in the center of the room. "Greetings, god of kiss my ass! It is my pleasure to meet you!"

Eric went to work poking various needles and devices into the test subject. He applied a breather to the man's face, pumping his lungs with a gaseous anesthetic to keep him unconscious. "Since when did you have a house? I thought you were homeless." Chike crossed to the other side of the table, handing Eric a syringe. The doctor began extracting a sample of blood. "Since I was twenty-three years old. I bugged out with the essentials when SuperIOR started hunting my colleagues. But, with it being so long, I figured SuperIOR wouldn't look for me here. The place is under a different name and I'm supposed to be dead." Eric took the blood sample and set it to the side, winding up a nearby machine. "What are you doing?" Chike asked. "Attempting to extract the serum from his blood. I'll need a deep marrow sample and some spinal fluid if I want a complete picture of what we're working with. But I don't have the equipment for that. So, I'll need to do some shopping on the black market for the required materials to build my own. Until then.." Eric wiped his hands clean with a sigh. "We wait."

"Who's the big guy?" Ceri appeared from the top of the stairs, sauntering over to Eric and Chike. "He calls himself Thune Xavior. He seems to think he's from a parallel universe. He keeps going on about dimensional rifts and magic high councils; probably just crazy. What do you think?" Ceri looked at him for a moment before turning back around. "He's kinda cute." Chike gave Ceri the dirtiest look he could muster. "On his story." He growled. "Well, it's certainly within the realm of possibility. But inter-dimensional travel isn't exactly my area of expertise. I'm more of a charms and hexes kind of girl. I'll see if I can pick up any tomes on the subject next time I'm out and about."

Ceri stopped speaking. She looked over at Eric, who's eyes were glued to a small television in the corner of the room. "Turn it up." He ordered. Chike grabbed the remote and did so.

“Well, there is one thing that we, as a human race, can do about this problem. There is a common saying in American colloquialism that goes like this: ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’ Therefore, I offer you all a gift. A chance to equal the playing field. Our environment is changing and we as a species must adapt with it. Why should these powers be limited to only a select, lucky few?”

“Therefore, in 48 hours, a device in Lost Haven will emit an energy dome that will eventually grant superhuman powers upon all those who are within its borders. First Lost Haven will receive this gift, then the Eastern Seaboard, then North America, and finally the entire world! By the end of this week, the entire world shall know what it feels like to be special.”
...

“Welcome to the Pax Metahumana.”

Creepy TV Guy

The room was quiet. Eric and Ceri glanced at each other worryingly. "The giraffe man. He is a villain, yes?" Thune asked, breaking the silence. "Yes, Thune. Yes he is. And I'm going to stop him." Chike answered. "Perhaps we should discuss this. No need to do anything-" Chike grabbed his AK-47 from one of the shelves in the laboratory, placing it down on the counter. "-hasty. Such as that."

[FacePunch]

NAME: Steven Rogers/Captain America

MORALITY: Hero

AFFILIATION: The United States of America, SHIELD, eventually Avengers

ORIGIN:

hider

Steven Rogers was born on July 04, 1920. His parents were immigrants from Ireland, who had fled to the United States of America to escape the potato famine there. Steve's parents drilled into their son the characteristics of honor, loyalty, justice and courage. They taught Steve to be brave in the face of any danger. Rogers was raised to see the best in himself and others, always going the extra mile to make a friend or stand up for what he believed in. As Steve grew older, he tried his hand at sports. But he wasn't very athletic at all; he was often described as a twig with arms. He couldn't build any sort of muscle despite all his hard work and he seemed destined to be skinny and weak for the rest of his life. He was regularly the target of bullying, both physical and verbal. Steve fought back when he could but mostly had to ignore the constant picking of other kids. Rogers relied on his friends Arnie Roth and Duvid Fortunov for protection when the gangs and thugs came around looking to mess with Steve. The threesome were known for getting in brawls with other groups of kids, regularly picking fights with the local scum to protect less capable kids.

It quickly became apparent to anyone looking that Steven Rogers possessed a noble heart and a fierce fighting spirit, even if he routinely got his butt beat.

Knowing he had no future in athletics (as he had one desired), Steve Rogers majored in fine arts during college and proved himself to be an excellent artist.

The boy's life took a drastic change, however, when Nazi Germany invaded the neighboring country of Poland. The Axis forces swept like a tide over Western Europe and their atrocities struck a cord within Steve. He spent his days watching the newsreels and yearning to help Europe in their fight against this obvious evil. Eventually Steve grew tired of just watching the battle unfold and decided to sign up for the United States Army, sure that the U.S would join the war eventually. When Steve attempted to join the United States military, he was quickly rejected for being too physically weak and labelled a 4-F. Steve Rogers wanted with all his heart to join the Army and fight for his country; so he tried again. And again. Steve signed up for the military under two dozen different aliases, going so far as to change his hair and eye color and travel across his home state to different recruiting offices each time. Steve was puny and didn't even come close to passing the mandatory physical exam for induction, although he wanted with all his life to serve his country, he was rejected and stamped out.

One of the recruiters for Project: Rebirth working in Brooklyn caught wind of Steve's efforts and intercepted the determined man at one of the recruiting stations. The recruiter was looking for test subjects for the Super Soldier project; men who were willing to die for their country. When met Rogers, the recruiter was impressed by Steve's dedication and fervor. He convinced Steve to work with Project: Rebirth, promising Rogers that he would be able to do what he had set out to do: Stop the Nazis. The recruiter brought Steve to meet the staff in charge of Project: Rebirth. The staff included Abraham Erskine, Peggy Carter, General Patton, Howard Stark, and various others. The plan was to create the very first Super Soldier. They wanted a man who could single handedly turn the tide of the war in the favor of the Allies, whom they were (apparently) planning to help fight. This fact surprised the soon-to-be captain, since Pearl Harbor had yet to occur and Roosevelt seemed hellbent on staying out of World War II. Regardless, Steve went along with the program.

It took months of work but eventually Steven Rogers was changed into Captain America, a 6'2 240 pound spitting image of patriotism. His handlers went to work sculpting Steve into the perfect soldier. He was taught how to fight, how to lead and how to speak. He was gifted a shield made out of vibranium and adamantium that was completely indestructible and taught how to use it as a weapon.

Captain America, alongside the Howling Commandos, fought in Europe as a covert unit against the forces of the Third Reich. They targeted HYDRA, the terrorist organization created by Nazi spymaster Baron Von Strucker and led by the infamous Red Skull. The Howling Commandos sabotaged HYDRA facilities at every turn, with the captain and Red Skull facing off in hand to hand many times and stalemating each other in every fight. It was soon revealed that the Red Skull had been created using a combination of stolen Super Solider Serum plans as well as technology from the alien race called the Chitauri. Herr Kleiser, an SS officer, was actually a member of the Chitauri race and had provided Red Skull with the necessary enhancements to fight Captain America one-on-one. During one of Steve Roger's many battles against HYDRA and the Chitauri, Henrich Zemo is killed by one of the Howling Commandos. Bucky Barnes is introduced to Steve via General Patton and the two quickly hit it off. Bucky joins the Howling Commandos as they try to put a stop to the German war machine before it tramples over the final bastions of European resistance. Arnim Zola, a Nazi scientist working with the Chitauri to produce an army of bio-mechanical soldiers, is defeated by Bucky and Captain America and imprisoned in the United States until modern times.

Near the end of the war, the Nazis were beginning to grow desperate. Johann Schmidt kidnapped Albert Einstein and various other members of Project Manhattan and forced them to build a nuclear weapon for HYDRA. Nick Fury caught wind of the plan and sent the Howling Commandos along with a battalion of tanks led by General Patton to overtake the castle from which the missile was to be launched. Captain America and Bucky battled Herr Kleiser and the Red Skull to a standstill. It seemed the Captain and his sidekick were going to win the day; that is, until Herr Kleiser fired off the nuclear weapon, aimed directly at Washington, D.C. Captain America, without a second thought, leaped onto the back of the missile and rode it into the sky. Red Skull quickly followed, the two super soldiers battling precariously over the Atlantic Ocean on top of a nuclear explosive that could level an entire city. Steve disabled the nuke, but in the scramble to do so slipped off the side of the nuke and fell into the freezing waters below. He watched as Red Skull was engulfed by the flames of the bomb.

As he sunk to the bottom of the ocean, all Cap could think about is how much he'd miss Peggy. He'd always meant to ask her out; but with the war and all, he'd never had the time. At least Red Skull would die with him, right?

POWERS/ABILITIES:

Super Soldier Serum

The Super Soldier Serum is a chemical compound of unknown makeup created by Doctor Abraham Erskine and Doctor Koch. The serum, on its own, develops the human body to the pinnacle of its potential; effectively creating the peak of humankind. But the original Super Soldier creation process did not only involve injection of the super solider serum but also bombardment by the mysterious radiation known only as Vita Rays. The mixture of Vita radiation and the serum compound enhances the subject to superhuman levels. The immune system, muscle growth, bone density and nervous system are all raised to seemingly impossible levels of efficiency. The third step of the process accelerates the serum's multiplication at the cellular level, stabilizing the compound and reducing the likelihood of adverse side effects. The first step of the SSP is highly classified and documentation is incomplete but available for SHIELD's use. The second step, involving the Vita Rays, was never well-documented in the first place; the majority of papers written on the existence of Vita Rays were destroyed when Heinz Kruger assassinated Abraham Erskine. The third step of Project: Rebirth is entirely unknown; researchers speculate that only Koch and Erskine knew of the third step. The full Super Soldier Process has only been used on a handful of individuals, with even fewer surviving into modern times.

Super Strength: Project: Rebirth gifted Captain America with much sturdier bones and muscles. During the war, it wasn't uncommon to see Steve pry a tank's cannon from its turret. There are numerous eye witness accounts of Steve Rogers lifting a full-blown Sturmgeschütz III over his head and slamming it into the ground with enough force to smash it to bits. He has the strength to casually throw around motorcycles and small cars, tear apart jeeps with his bare hands, and throw his shield hard enough to slice solid steel. His time in the ice has greatly weakened his underutilized muscles and bones, temporarily dropping his insane strength to Spider-Man levels.

Super Speed/Reflexes: Steve Rogers possesses top speeds comparable to an automobile. During the Second World War, he often raced against various tanks and jeeps while on base for the amusement of the troops. Veterans were quoted as saying that Captain America "Once chased down a Cheetah and caught it for dinner" while on tour in Northern Africa. This same speed translates into how quickly Cap can react. He regularly blocks hails of bullets with his shield, dodges oncoming tank shells and on one occasion allegedly caught a bullet in flight.
Having been frozen at subzero temperatures for decades has slowed down Steve's speed and reflexes significantly.

Super Endurance/Disease Immunity/Healing Factor: Captain America's body does not produce as many fatigue toxins as a normal human, and thus is able to operate at peak efficiency for hours on end. Steve is impervious to gas attacks and poisons of any kind. His body is naturally resistant to all sorts of diseases, including anthrax, HIV, small pox and every known nerve toxin on earth. His doctors described him as "unbreakable." In the same vain, his body's natural healing is boosted to such levels that bullet wounds heal themselves in hours. Knife wounds disappear in minutes. His immune system can overcome any infection. There isn't a bacteria on earth that his body can't obliterate, given a little bit of time.

Hyper Advanced Brain: One of Steve's most important enhancements was made to his brain. His memory is photographic. Drastically increased cognitive processing allows Steve to learn anything by merely observing and trying it for himself. His long-term memory is expanded, giving Cap room for more knowledge than any normal human. His brain's enhanced nature means that he can process information extremely fast, granting Steve the uncanny power to 'see faster.' In essence, Captain America sees everything in slow motion, even objects moving faster than the speed of sound. This ability is what gives Steve his tactical genius and lets him calculate his shield's ricochets in less than a second.

Learned Abilities

Advanced Martial Artist: Captain America is an expert martial artist. He has developed his own fighting style that utilizes moves from Judo, American boxing, Taekwondo, Akido, Karate, Ju-jitsu, pressure points and various other disciplines. The focal point of this style is Steve's shield but he is able to adapt it just fine to unarmed combat. His advanced cognitive processing and memory are to thank for his quick learning and development in battle.

Superior Tactician and Strategist: A natural leader even before the Super Soldier procedure, Steve is a capable tactician. He has spent years learning the strategies of past generals and leaders. But all the studying in the world doesn't matter when the bullets start to fly. Most men buckle under the pressure of combat; but Captain America is not most men. He'll admit that he can't think nearly as well in a tent a hundred miles from the front as he can in the trenches with explosions rocking the battlefield around him. He's proven himself time and again a master of squad-based warfare, taking down much larger enemy forces with minimal resources and manpower using only his strategic mind.

Charismatic Orator: Much like his tactical mind, the Captain was a powerful speaker before he had been enhanced. After becoming the famed Captain America, Steve was taught by the best of the best how to communicate to the masses. He was shown the intricacies of diplomacy and inspiration. He knows how to to sway the opinions of almost anyone with little more than words.

Sample Story Arcs:

Second Coming of the Red Skull: The Red Skull returns! He's back, and deadlier than ever. But how did he return? What does he want? The stakes are almost as high as they were in the final days of World War II as the Red Skull attempts to resurrect the Fourth Reich and bring America to its knees.

The Chitauri Invasion: Herr Kleiser and the Chitauri appear once more, now with an army of shape shifting aliens bent on revenge against Captain America and the entirety of earth. Connections between the Skrulls and the Chitauri become prevalent as Cap investigates the aliens' return, and tries to find a way to defeat them.

Man Out of Time: This is more of an ongoing story than a single arc. Steve Rogers finds himself in a world unlike the one he had left. He suffers from culture shock as he attempts to meld into modern society and reconnect with past friends and allies.

Death of Captain America: I want to do this one eventually. I'll keep it on the hush hush for now.

Sample Post: Do I have tooooo? I'll do one eventually. I just want to get the sheet up for now.

[FacePunch]

| NAME: |

Sage Gordon

| ALIAS: |

Iron Bat

| AGE: |

19

| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |

Costume/Armor

Super Strength: The Iron Bat suit is designed to allow the pilot to go toe-to-toe with even the strongest villains of Gotham City. It can physically tangle with the likes of Killer Croc, Bane and occasionally even Solomon Grundy. It's maximum deadlift is somewhere around 9 tons.

Super Durability: When faced with incredibly well-armed gangs and increasing numbers of metahumans, the Gotham Police Department needs an edge. Something to tank the criminals' firepower without pause. The Iron Bat uses a combination of carbon nanotube technology and advanced titanium alloys for armor, coated in high electron radiation to increase the tensile strength. The suit can take direct hits from RPGs, armor piercing bullets and a fully-Venomed Bane.

Gadgets:

Image

Technician: While he's no Julian Luthor, Sage knows his way around technology. Especially the Iron Bat. He hasn't mastered controlling the suit but he knows more than most of the engineers who had a hand in designing and building it. His hacking and repair skills are acceptable; though they leave much to be desired when compared to the school's geniuses and prodigies.

Quick Learner: Gordon is know for his uncanny ability to learn something the first time he's read it or seen it.

Detective: Being the son of Batgirl and grandson of Gotham's Police Commissioner lent Sage to a life of detective work. He's good at spotting the small details, examining the most inconspicuous things for clues. There's always room for improvement, however.

Basic Police Training: Including marksmanship classes, hand to hand combat, working a crime scene, and knowledge of the law.

| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |

Hacking: The Iron Bat suit contains a formidable firewall, but nothing a master hacker couldn't find his way around. If the Iron Bat is compromised, Sage is forced to reboot the suit. The reboot process takes roughly five minutes; during that time the hacker has complete run of the Iron Bat's automated piloting system.

Electromagnetic Pulse: Again, the suit was designed with a basic defense against EMP assaults, but lacks the fortitude to stand up against the highest tech disabling weapons on the market. Sage has to manually restart the batteries when this occurs. To do this, Sage must leave his suit and tinker with the back of the Iron Bat, leaving him exposed to enemy attack for a number of crucial minutes as he rushes to repair the damage done.

Normal Human: Sage Gordon is no Superman. He's no Batman; he's not even comparable to Crosshairs. He's a completely normal person. His athletic ability is below the peak of human potential, his marksmanship is underwhelming next to Green Arrow or Deadshot and his detective skills are overshadowed by the likes of Tim Drake and Dick Grayson. He's so overwhelmingly average. The only thing that sets Sage apart is his suit; which frustrates him to no end. He's nothing but his father's costume. His legacy.

| SAMPLE POST: |

-At minimum, two paragraphs showing your character in action and displaying their personality. This can be a portion of their backstory or just a random scene of your choosing.

| NOTES: |

Sage doesn't like being overshadowed by his family name, so he rarely tells people his last name.
He focuses heavily on his studies, determined to become his "own man."
Stress has put a hamper on Sage's usually bright personality; he's recently decided that he needs to fin some way to relieve the stress of school
Inherited the now-retired Iron Bat suit from the GCPD
Sage enjoys reading manga

[FacePunch]

Nuclear Physics was boring; like usual. It wasn't really the professor's fault. Martin Stein was always an animated teacher. He spoke with his hands, taught loudly when he became excited and knew the material backwards and forwards. He was the mind behind the firestorm matrix, after all. Sadly, no amount of excitement on the doctor's part made learning Nuclear Physics anymore bearable. But S'tann had to stomach the class if he wished to improve his chances of joining the Teen Titans. Legacy had never told anyone before, but his ultimate goal at Corrigan was to get recruited into one of the various Titan teams located across the states. The Teen Titans was just a stepping stone to the Justice League; without time on one of the junior teams, his chances of passing the Justice League's rigorous and relentless recruitment process dropped dramatically. While it was possible to make it onto one of the offshoot branches without prior experience, the main team (who's roster only changed when one of the big names died or retired) wanted only the best. Then S'tann would be one step closer to becoming a full-blown Manhunter.

The mere thought was enough to make the Martian momentarily stop hating Nuclear Physics. A Manhunter! Every Martian child dreamed of joining the Corps that so vigilantly protected Mars from invasion. It was not only a badge of honor but an exciting position that promised perilous adventure after perilous adventure to any who worked hard enough to achieve the esteemed rank. Except..there was no Mars. Well, there was; technically. But the population of the Red Planet had been all but wiped off the map. S'tann and M'gann were suspected to be the last White Martians that hadn't gone absolutely insane; the rest of them were imprisoned in the Phantom Zone. J'onn was the only Green left. He killed the last of his kind, a woman named D'kay, for attacking his adopted niece.

They were the last of the Martians.

That's why S'tann would rebuild Mars. With his own two hands, he would find a why to repopulate his homeworld before his uncle passed. J'onn had fought so diligently to save his fellow Martians. Yet, the one day he was not in the Sol System, he showed up. The one who shall not be named. The Dark Lord. The Master of Darkness. That Dark God who's armies of demons poured forth from their boom tubes and burned Mars to the ground. The Manhunters attempted to fight back. But there was no stopping him; nothing that could slow him down. Everyone perished, in time. If J'onn had been there he likely would have fallen as well. S'tann could still remember the fire...That unnatural, dark flame consuming his lush planet. Mars was so fertile. But all that life served only to fuel the inferno. Mars, once green with life, was stained red with the blood of billions.

Mars...

The bell rang and S'tann was jolted from his thoughts. Doctor Stein gave the students their assignments and the horde of half-awake zombies shuffled out into the hall. S'tann density-shifted his way through the wall and joined those lifeless corpses in their walk to the next meaningless class. Speaking of class...He wondered to himself, retrieving a schedule from the backpack of a student in front of him. Ah, yes! A.R.C is this hour! A.R.C was easily Legacy's most interesting class. He got to learn while also reveling in his favorite activity: kicking the shit out of other supers. John Stewart was the instructor today, if S'tann remembered correctly. Green Lanterns fascinated him. Their rings were so powerful and guided by an energy source modern science couldn't explain. I wonder what a Martian with a power ring would look like.. Probably terrifying.

Once he was out of the Quadrangle, Legacy took to the sky. He soured over the heads of the other students, heading towards the circular dome that housed the Augmented Reality Center. He moved as quickly as his telekinetic-based flight would allow; he didn't want to be late to the session. Okay, so there were two classes S'tann didn't hate. (He changes his mind often. Want to fight him about it? No? I didn't think so.) Anyway; the Martian reached the dome after a little less than a minute, landing outside the building. He phased his way through the other students, pushing through the door into the building's foyer. The Martian floated a few inches above the ground, maintaining his original form as he scanned the room for threats. He noticed Mailsi, the Silver Banshee, talking to that fairy king. She'd be trouble; her wail could put down any of the heavy hitters. Casey wouldn't be a problem for S'tann. He didn't know the guy well, but from he'd heard all he knew were a few parlor tricks. Mari was supposed to be around here somewhere. Julian, too. There were a number of students Legacy didn't recognize.

Hopefully Kieran was signed up for today. He'd make this really interesting. What with their altercation earlier, and their relatively close power levels. There was only one student the Martian secretly hoped hadn't showed up today. She might be out sick. Or in a coma from a car accident. Maybe she upped and left the school for good; that'd be the best news S'tann had heard all year.

Then she walked through the doors to the A.R Center.

Nora Norwich.

Oh god in heaven. S'tann floated away from the front of the center, nuzzling himself into a corner behind a group of conversing students. He tried to play it off as cool; like he didn't really care what was going on. He crossed his arms, shape shifting into his human form to make himself appear smaller. S'tann thought of himself as pretty brave. He'd throw down with Sinestro any day of the week. He'd face Black Adam head on. Hell, Legacy wouldn't flinch if someone told him he'd be fighting Professor Zoom. He could handle them. But what he couldn't handle was fire; especially black fire. He'd rather take on Superman than that girl.

Maybe she'd trip and kill herself.

Yeah, let's hope for that.

[FacePunch]

The Doyism Revolutionary Army

Government and Economy

Type of Government:

The Doyism Revolutionary Army is a loose connection of individual cells that follow the rules and guidelines set down in their religious text, the Doyiac Codex. The Codex was written by Godfrey Lennox, prophet of the goddess Doyia, who's recent death has rocked the Revolution's hierarchy of leadership. The Codex sets out the type of government the followers of Doyia are meant to establish. In name, this theoretical nation would be a theocracy. In reality, it would be much closer to a dictatorship - with the prophet, unsurprisingly, at the head; he would relay the commands of the goddess and all would follow his words to the letter. But with the prophet dead and no line of succession spelled out within the Codex, the various sects of Doyism are left to pick up the pieces. A dozen different bishops, each a leader of all the churches located within a region, claimed to be the next prophet, chosen by Doyia in a vision from Her Majesty. These contradictory declarations have led to verbal and armed conflict between the Army's extreme groups. The more moderate Doyism followers have voted to create a council made up of the bishops of Doyia who have allegedly received visions from her. The new system, declared an Oligarchical-Theocracy by historians, would be the temporary form of governance until the true prophet could be determined.

Head(s) of Government:

Archbishop Kepler Barons (Speaker of the Bishops) of Avalia [Valkyerian] [Currently living in neighboring Morovia due to religious persecution]

Bishop Pipp Fungusfoot of Zenovia [Troll]
Bishop Nikolai Markov of Kataylabinsk [Human]
Bishop Fredrick Henderson of Verendes [Human]
Bishop Lilian Silverwood of Yllendthyr [Elf]
Bishop Timothy Yves of Fuso [Zensensashi]
Bishop Ganon Black-Iron of Moravia [Dwarf]
Bishop Kaito Nakamora of Izuno [Zensensashi]

Cells that support the Revolutionary Army:

Bishop Gerald Lenin of Brusaleye [Human]
Bishop Kivia Pearl of Cerseia [Mesulid]
Vice-Bishop Taknul Bloodkip [Orc]

Economy:

The Codex looks to establish a world-wide free market, using a singular type of currency. While this dream seems far off, the Revolutionary Army is optimistic that their dreams will be obtained in time. For now, followers of Doyism are forced to work under the economy of their home country until such a time as Doyism becomes the majority religion across the face of the planet. The DRA practices a free market economy and mainly works off a barter system established by the locals. When trading with established nations and trade companies, the DRA uses precious metals such as copper, gold and silver.

History, Demographics and Culture

Primary Species:

Humans, although Doyism teaches the absolute equality of the races and sexes.

Population:

112,090,506 overall followers of Doyism

Humans: 56,045,253 (50%)
Elves: 11,209,050 (20%)
Trolls: 4,483,620 (8%)
Orcs: 1,120,905 (2%)
Dwarves: 5,604,525 (10%)
Zensensashi: 3,923,167 (7%)
Mesulid: 1,681,357 (3%)
Other: Unknown (less than 1%)

Population of Port Tornaga:
15 million

Population of Fort Sentria:
11 million

Culture: Doyists have no culture of their own, but rather conform to the culture of the region they live in. The Doyiac Codex teaches acceptance of local cultures and urges Doyists to tolerate non-religious individuals within society. The Codex also teaches, however, that the followers of Doyia should strive to change the culture of their homeland for the better. They are taught to spread equal treatment and tolerance by any means necessary. Whether this means merely lobbying for new laws or forming political parties of their own and gaining the power to make this change, or going so far as to take up the sword and force their leaders to become better people, is up to the personal interpretation of the reader. The Revolutionary Army, considered an extreme sect of mainstream Doyism, is willing to use violence to obtain social and political equality.

Religious and Other Beliefs:

Doyiac Codex:

The Codex was written by Godfrey Lennox nearly two hundred and fifty years ago. Godfrey, a high-born Elf from the Empire of Yllendthyr, received a vivid hallucination at the age of thirty whilst meditation on top of Mount Yaelrig. An all-powerful being calling itself Doyia contacted Godfrey through a vision, enlightening the man with knowledge from the divine. Doyia taught Godfrey many things: how she created the world and the stars, and all people of all religions and creeds. She had left the world alone for thousands of years, thinking that they did not require her guidance. Yet she watched in silent horror as the world tore itself apart. As man invented such travesties as war and racism, and families were split due to clashing ideologies and beliefs. Doyia say these things and ripped her cloak in anguish. She mourned her creation's fall. Briefly, Doyia considered destroying it all and starting over again. But that would not do. For she saw glimpses of good in these mortals. So Doyia sought out the most pious man in the world, whom she would use to bring about change. And lo, the prophet was born.

Godfrey Lennox lived on Mount Yaelrig for a decade and five years. He spent every day in prayer, learning the will of Doyia. He wrote all of her commands and beliefs to the letter. When the visions stopped coming, Godfrey knew his book was complete. It named it the Doyiac Codex, and set about spreading the truth of Doyia to any who would listen.

"I am the bringer of life and peace. The conqueror of the wicked and destroyer of iniquity. I am Doyia, the beginning and the end." Doyiac Codex, Chapter 5, p. 1520, verse 67.

Doyism spread like a wildfire. The teachings of this book attracted people of all walks and nations. Godfrey's personal wealth grew to disproportionate levels; The Codex quickly became the most purchased book on the market. The prophet invested every penny of wealth he earned from the book's sale into printing more copies of the Codex, as well as establishing places of worship and organizing the training of priests and bishops. It was hard, grueling work. Yet it brought Godfrey much personal passion and joy. He was devoted in body and soul to Doyia. He would live, breath and die in her name. His devotion proved a powerful means of gaining new converts. For hundreds of years, Godfrey and his disciples traveled across the globe, spreading the word of Doyia to any who would listen. They suffered much persecution; many died in the name of the goddess. But Godfrey pressed on. He would not be silenced by mortal hands.

At the ancient age of 325, Godfrey passed away of natural causes. His death was mourned worldwide. It wouldn't be long before the bishops began bickering and fighting to be the next prophet. The council was eventually formed to stop the infighting.

History:

The Doyism Revolutionary Army is a recent construct, invented by Kivia Pearl and Taknul Bloodkip about a hundred years ago. They have rallied the most passionate, loyal and extreme followers of Doyism to the idea that armed conflict is the only means of spreading the faith of Doyia. Kivia and Taknul took their upstart army to Mount Yaelrig, located on the Sotoa Peninsula, in Verusa, between the nations of Yllendthyr and Moravia. They set about turning the monastery located atop the mountain into an impenetrable fortress. The newly formed Revolutionary Army recruited followers of Doyism from nearby nations to join their little expedition. They constructed a port of their own, accepting refugees and supplies from across the ocean. The port grew over the next three decades into a city of its own. Kivia and Taknul saw that their small operation had grown significantly and began reorganizing the guerrilla force into a legitimate military. The port city of Tornaga, governed by Kivia personally, would soon develop an independent trade industry of its own. Mount Yaelrig became the home of Fort Sentria, controlled by General Taknul Bloodkip.

The Revolutionary Army declared itself capable of self-governance without the aid of outside sponsors by the end of the century. Port Tornaga and Fort Sentria grew into moderately sized city states. Kivia and Taknul, proud of their work, set about trying to convince the other bishops and their cells to join the DRA. So far, they've had little luck. While most the bishops would support an armed force under the name of Doyism, there is little proof that the Revolutionary Army will be able to see their goal of a world under Doyia through. The DRA has yet to attack any of Doyism's prominent enemies, or prove itself effective in any way. With that in name, Taknul Bloodkip has a plan..

Geography, Agriculture and Industry

Territories: The DRA controls two cities located on the Sotoa Peninsula, in Verusa, between the nations of Yllendthyr and Moravia. Their region of control is relatively small, but Kivia Pearl and Taknul Bloodkip have very ambitious plans for the tiny nation.

Cities, Bases, etc.:

Port Tornaga: With a population of 15 million people, Port Tornaga's population has skyrocketed in the past year. Researchers project that another 500,000 children will be born before the end of the year, with that number guessed to grow as the years continue to pass. Tornaga is seen as a hub of free trade and equal treatment. It isn't uncommon for the city's governor to allow international pirates safe haven here in exchange for a portion of their captured goods. Immigration to the city is at an all time high due to the lax laws, especially on subjects such as prostitution and drug use.

Fort Sentria: The fort has a total population of 15 million. Unlike its neighboring city of Tornaga, Sentria is home to the most disciplined soldiers of the Revolutionary Army. Every man, woman and child in the fort is expected to join the military whenever Taknul drafts them. The city's cutlure is Spartan in nature; the most alluring reason to immigrate to the fort being free housing, food and an above average pay.

Climate: The region the DRA populates has an above average temperature, due to its proximity to the equator. The area is also rather hilly and a large mountain range dominates the coast. The planes to the north are dominated by farm lands; while the land to the east and west contain thick forests and fauna.

Agriculture: The DRA has its own farming community built up in the north. Small villages have begun popping up in that area due to the soil's increased fertility. The majority of the area's farmers are known for growing corn and barley, although tobacco and various plants used in the making of alcohol are quickly growing industries.

Industry: The Doyism Revolutionary Army is a self-sustaining group. They have major weapons industries, especially firearms. Mining is big within the mountains, with coal and iron veins being numerous. The farming community located to the north grows most of the food; with the fishing industry in Port Tornaga picking up the slack. The only industries really missing in the DRA are automobiles and aircraft as well as oil drilling. Tornaga is known for its flourishing naval construction and exportation businesses.

Main Imports: Automobiles, aircraft, airships and oil.

Main Exports: Fish, grain, beer, tobacco, coal.

Military

Personnel:

The Doyism Revolution Army requires all citizens over the age of 17 to sign up for a draft. This means that, technically, the entire population of both city states could be called up to defend the DRA if necessary. The people in Fort Sentria especially are liable to be called upon in moments of dire need; all citizens of the fort are considered active military personnel, though many of them work for logistics, who only leave the Fort when absolutely necessary.

Overall: roughly 10 million

Active Personnel: 1 million (Most of whom are from the Spartan-like society of Fort Sentria)

Army

Personnel:

600,000

Vehicles:
500 light tanks
70 heavy tanks

Guerrilla Volunteers: The most numerous units in the DRA. They are moderately trained in stealth and guerrilla warfare tactics, given decent firearms and told to wreak havoc on the enemy's lines. These Guerrillas are dangerous not for their tactical abilities or their advanced weaponry, but for their absolute devotion to the cause. Fanaticism is the name of the game in the Doyism Revolutionary Army. It's not uncommon for volunteers to use suicide bombing tactics, bayonet charges, or fight to the death. Guerrillas are indoctrinated during their three-year training regime to do whatever is necessary to move forward the cause of the goddess. There are few forces on earth as devote as these men and women.

Standardized Infantry: The Standardized Infantry force of the DRA is considered more elite than the Guerrillas but more numerous than the Special Forces. Most of the active personnel are part of the Standard Infantry division. They receive an extra two years of specialized training, and generally have served at least a year and a half as a Guerrilla. Standardized Infantry are equipped with better weapons and tactical training than the Guerrillas, especially in the area of city defense. Every Standard Infantryman has the layout of Tornaga and Fort Sentria memorized to the letter. Once Standardized Infantry complete their training, they are given the option of continuing their training as an armored vehicle operator. Armor Vehicle Operations training lasts anywhere from 6 months to a year and a half, depending on the trainee's past experience and natural skill.

Special Forces Units: The elite of the elite. Soldiers must have at least ten years of experience in the Standardized Infantry or equivalent unit from another branch under their belt before they are allowed to even sign up. Taknul looks over each individual's resume personally, judging whether or not they make the cut. He only accepts the most devote, expert warriors into the training program. The SFU training program lasts roughly four years and contains some of the most mentally, emotionally and physically grueling activity that any man would ever be put through. Most sign ups don't make it past week two. The very few who do are given the highest honors and treated with respect similar to that of General Bloodkip. The Special Forces troops use only the most advanced technology available in the DRA and are nothing short of tactical geniuses.

Kynil Light Tank:

The most produced tank in the DRA. Light, fast and maneuverable, the Kynil is one of the most effective open-area tanks of the time. It has the firepower to threaten larger tanks and the armor is light, but capable enough to go toe-to-toe with any other nation's own light tanks due to its revolutionary slop design.

Armor:
13–51 mm (0.51–2.01 in)

Main armament:
37 mm main gun, 174 rounds

Secondary armament:
3 × .30-06 MG, 7,500 rounds

Engine:
Continental W-670-9A, 7 cylinder air-cooled radial, 250 hp (190 kW)

Power/weight:
17.82 hp/tonne

Suspension:
Vertical volute spring

Operational range:
74 mi (119 km)

Speed:
36 mph on road
18 mph on road

Weight: 32,400 lb
Length: 14 ft 2.4 in
Width: 8 ft 1.2 in
Height: 7 ft 6 in
Crew: 4 (Commander, gunner, driver, co-driver)

Trollborn Heavy Tank:

A heavier variant of the Kynil, this time designed by Elves to mimic the toughness of the Troll race. The Trollborn are only ever rolled out in times of dire need, due to their inefficient use of gasoline and expensive shells. They do their job well, however. A Trollborn Heavy Tank can stand up to any armored beast brought up by more powerful armies.

Armor:
hull front 4 in
gun shield 11 inches
turret front 7 in

Main armament:
105 mm gun, 63 rounds

Secondary armament:
2 x .50 machine guns, coaxial
1x .50 flexible AA
1x .30 machine gun, bow

Engine:
1649 cubic inch (27 liter) GAC V12
650 hp (480 kW) net at 2800 rpm

Power/weight:
9.2 hp/tonne

Transmission:
GAC CD-850-1 crossdrive, three speeds (two forward, one reverse)

Suspension:
torsion-bar

Operational range:
100 miles

Speed:
22 mph

Weight: 64.2 t (combat loaded)
Length: 37 ft 11.5 in (gun forward)
Width: 12 ft 5.5 in
Height: 10 ft 6 in
Crew: 6 (driver, commander, gunner, 2 loaders)

Air Force

The majority of pilots in the DRA Air Force are Elves, though anyone is allowed to join the AF if they can pass the rigorous flight training. Trolls and Orcs are unable to pilot most fight craft due to their increased size, but some airships exist that specifically cater to these taller and heavier races. Most pilots are trained for anywhere between 2-4 years, depending on the vehicle their flying. All pilots receive basic training alongside their specialized flight training.

Personnel:

300,000

Vehicles:

1,000 aircraft
600 Biplanes
200 Fighters
200 Bombers
2 Leviathan Battleships
1 Behemoth Dreadnought
1 Herculean Aircraft Carrier

Vladimir 122d Biplane: One of the most common planes in the DRA Air Force. A Two-seat biplane that is equipped with a single 360 degree rotary machine gun, a pair of stationary machine guns mounted to the front and a bomb bay attached to the bottom. The Biplane is quick, agile and fast but lacks much firepower or armored protection.

Air-Shark 66b Fighter: The most common-non biplane fighter in the DRA Air Force. The Air-Shark is very agile at low and medium altitudes but suffers due to lack of power at higher altitudes. At medium and high speeds it was one of the tightest turning monoplane designs available at such a cheap construction price. Its chassis is made of a combination of mithril and carbon steel, designed to be light and flexible but still able to take a hit. The plane has two .50 inch (12.7 mm) guns in each wing. The B version of the Air-Shark had armor installed around the engine and the cockpit, which enables it to withstand considerable damage, especially from the front.

Skullgap 122d Bomber: The Skullgap was originally an Orc plane designed to be a heavy fighter, but eventually was developed into a bomber capable of fulfilling multiple combat roles if needed. The Skullgap is a twin-engine long range bomber capable of launching ground strikes, maritime strikes and night attacks. The Skullgap uses a fixed four-cannon weapon array to fend off other aircraft. It also has a dorsal machine gun bubble attached to the back to prevent enemy fighters from overwhelming the Skullgap from behind. A bomb spotter and navigation seat are located on the bottom of the aircraft, next to the bomb bay. The Skullgap can drop numerous bombs and torpedoes from the bays. The Skullgap is one of the slowest and least maneuverable war planes used by the DRA, but packs the most armor and weapons of any aircraft except the airships.

46r Leviathan Air-Battleship: The third largest Airship used by the DRA. An outdated craft bought from military surplus organizations. The Leviathan is a heavily armored flying tank, capable of dishing out massive amounts of damage as well as soaking up tons of enemy fire. It's speed takes a major hit, however, being one of the slowest craft in the entire Air Force. The Leviathan is armed with ten 14 inch Mark 12 cannons, 16 5.25 inch mark 1 cannons, 32 1.575 inch anti-air flak guns, and six multi-rocket projection systems. Powered by coal and steam engine turbines.

Behemoth Air-Dreadnought: The largest airship used by the DRA. Even heavier armor than the Leviathan, the Dreadnought is the most powerful piece of military technology used by the Doyism Revolutionary Army. The Behemoth is an outdated airship, but still considerably powerful. It can absorb the fire of an entire aeronautic fleet for a brief time. The Behemoth has enough guns to challenge any modern airship in a one on one duel, or even multiple smaller airships. It suffers from a turtle-like speed, however, considerably slower than the Leviathans. The Dreadnought is armed with 12 16 inch Mark 30 cannons in four triple-barrel turrets, 20 5 inch mark 2 cannons, 40 1.5788 Anti-Aircraft flak guns, and eight multi-rocket projection systems. Powered by a combination of gasoline, steam and coal engines.

Herculean Aircraft Carrier: The second largest airship used by the Doyism Revolutionary Army. Lighter than the Battleships and Dreadnought, but heavy enough to take some hits if things get too dicey. The Carrier comes equipped with 4 twin 5 inch guns, 4 single 5 inch guns, 8 quadruple 1.5748 inch Anti-Air guns, and 46 single 20mm Anti-Air guns. The Herculean-class Aircraft Carrier can hold up to 120 aircraft.

Navy

The newly formed DRA navy is still in its developing stages. It uses specially trained members of the Standardized Infantry as makeshift marines when needed. Most of the naval personnel are sailors and ship construction teams.

Personnel:

100,000

Ships:

1 Gargon Destroyer
4 Vennir Patrol Corvettes

Gargon Destroyer:

Type: Destroyer
Displacement:
2,050 tons (standard)
2,500 tons (full load)
Length: 376.5 ft (114.8 m)
Beam: 39.5 ft (12.0 m)
Draft: 17.5 ft (5.3 m)
Propulsion: 60,000 shp (45 MW); 4 oil-fired boilers; 2 geared steam turbines; 2 screws
Speed: 36.5 knots (67.6 km/h; 42.0 mph)
Range:
5,500 miles at 15 knots
(8,850 km at 28 km/h) [1]
Complement: 329 officers and men
Armament:
5 × single 5 inch (127 mm)/38 caliber guns
6–10 × 40 mm Bofors AA guns (early ships carried 4 × 1.1 inch (28 mm) automatic cannon (1 × 4))
7–10 × 20 mm Oerlikon autocannons,
10 × 21 inch (533 mm) torpedo tubes (2 × 5; Mark 15 torpedoes)
6 × K-gun depth charge projectors
2 × depth charge racks

Vennir Patrol Corvette:

Type: Corvette
Displacement: 925 long tons (940 t; 1,036 short tons)
Length: 205 ft (62.5 m) o/a
Beam: 33 ft (10.1 m)
Draught: 11.5 ft (3.51 m)
Propulsion:
1939-1940 programme
single shaft
2 × fire tube Scotch boilers
1 × double acting triple-expansion reciprocating steam engine
2,750 ihp (2,050 kW)
1940-1941 programme
single shaft
2 × water tube boilers
1 × double acting triple-expansion reciprocating steam engine
2,750 ihp (2,050 kW)
Speed: 16 knots (29.6 km/h)
Range: 3,500 nautical miles (6,482 km) at 12 knots (22.2 km/h)
Complement: 85
Sensors and
processing systems:
1 × SW1C or 2C radar
1 × Type 123A or Type 127DV sonar
Armament:
1 × 4 inch BL Mk.IX single gun
2 × Vickers .50 machine guns (twin)
2 × .303 inch Lewis machine gun (twin)
2 × Mk.II depth charge throwers
2 × depth charge rails with 40 depth charges
originally fitted with minesweeping gear, later removed

[FacePunch]

Leader

Real Name: Jericho T. Valdez
Alias/Nickname: Scourge

Description: Scourge stands at a behemoth 6'3 and 225 lbs. He's a Latino-American who's body is covered in tattoos he received during his time in prison as well as the military. He's almost always seen wearing a bulletproof vest, trench coat and luchador mask. He also dresses in military-grade combat boots, as well as cargo pants with armored knee guards. Jericho wields a venom canister on his back that attaches via medical piping and needles stabbed directly into his blood stream. He can administer said drug into his system with a simple press of a button, located on his right gauntlet.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Scourge never removes his luchador mask and only ever takes off his venom pack when sleeping. He's known for his strict leadership style and fear tactics against the enemies of the Sons of Bane.

Inventory: Venom canister attached to his back, .44 caliber hand cannon, bulletproof vest and various types of grenades

Backstory: Jericho was born in Santa Prisca. His mother died when he was born due to complications in the pregnancy, and his father abandoned Jericho to the streets. Scourge grew up a street urchin; stealing food to feed himself and other orphaned kids. As he grew older, Jericho formed his own gang of street rats in Santa Prisca and worked a protection racket for drug money. He quickly became addicted to the substance known as venom, a drug native to Santa Prisca. He and his gang were recruited by the infamous Bane during his take over of the Santa Priscan government. Jericho proved himself a capable leader, and quickly rose up the ranks of Bane's gang. When Bane went to Gotham to challenge the Batman, he took the best of his men with him. Jericho was one of those men. But Batman proved too tough an opponent and Bane was defeated, his gang scattered with many of them returning to Santa Prisca to lick their wounds. But not Jericho. Jericho took what remained of Bane's gang and formed his own army: the Sons of Bane. He would continue Bane's legacy and conquer Gotham...Or burn it to the ground.

Gang

Gang Name: Sons of Bane

Gang theme/motif: The Sons of Bane wear black, paramilitary-style battle dress uniforms. Every member of the gang is required to carry at least one firearm on them at all time; they must also wear their bulletproof vests whenever on mission or guarding the base. While not required, the Sons of Bane are encouraged to cut their hair short and tattoo the symbol of Bane, a luchador mask, on their arm. Tattoos are generally covered by long sleeve shirts when not on mission to promote stealth.

Gang colors: Black

Hierarchy:

Boss: Scourge
Second-In-Command: Valkyrie (ex-paratrooper. Know for his skill in long range firearms)
Lieutenants: Four of the most exceptional members of the gang
Captains: Lead each individual squad; 8 of them exist
Grunts: The base infantry. Divided into 8 squads.

Dealings: Drugs/Weapons

Recruitment: Weapons/Drugs
Base: Docks

[FacePunch]

S'tann S'tonn is an annoying prick. He knows it. Everyone else knows it. Most people don't like him because of that fact. But S'tann is of the firm belief that he's only the third most hated student on campus. Who can be more unlikable than that asshole? You, hypothetical person that exists within S'tann's subconscious, might ask. Well, they just arrived in the Augmented Reality Center, and they're up to their usual infuriatingly moronic antics. Mars and Jake didn't waste a beat, the two of them calling out S'tann and Kieran, the most powerful students present, immediately. They weren't even being clever, either. Just annoying. S'tann's scowl darkened and he sunk further into the crowd, hoping beyond hope he'd get the chance to bust their skulls open during the A.R.C session. He considered fighting them on their bullshit now, but the chances of John Stewart appearing and dishing out a loud of ass-kicking were far too high for S'tann's liking. So he stayed silent and waited for them to begin. A handful of other students arrived and mingled together in the lobby. The Martian recognized a few of them from earlier.

A few minutes passed. S'tann wondered if John would actually be late for once, something unheard of from the ex-marine turned Green Lantern. But alas, the familiar hiss of the center's automated doors announced Coach Stewart's appearance in the foyer. S'tann shuffled into positions along with the rest of the student body present, giving John his full and undivided attention. He briefly made note of the doors at the back of the center being shoved open multiple times by students arriving late. Hmph. He could understand being late to the normal classes. Those were rather boring. But an A.R.C session? That was fucking suicide. Especially if Todd was in charge. Luckily for them, Green Lantern didn't acknowledge their blatant tardiness. At least not yet. John spouted off the usual 'this is really important, so pay attention' speech. S'tann listened with a small smirk on his face as John forced Mars' boyfriend out of the A.R center before getting into the real meat of his talk: the mission and the teams. Now that was interesting. Silver Banshee and S'tann would be leading the All-Star Squadron against Aiden Roth and Kieran Kent's Suicide Squad. Not the teams most people would expect, given the personalities of the leaders. But S'tann was ecstatic. He'd finally get to show Kent what happened when you tried to stop a Martian Manhunter from doing their duty.

The teams made sense. The majority of magic users were assigned to the All-Star's, obviously meant to counter the Kryptonian on the Suicide Squad. The pyrokinetics were on the Suicide Squad as a counter to Legacy. That would be problematic. Very problematic. The addition of Mars, Jack and Fenris to team All-Star seemed very intentional. That pissed S'tann off. He hated the three of them with a burning passion. Which is most likely why Stewart stuck them together in the first place.

S'tann made his way into the left side entrance. He quickly grabbed one of the training suits and adapted it to his shape shifting physiology before getting into the ready room and awaiting further instruction. This would be a difficult fight to win; that's for sure. The odds seemed stacked in the Suicide Squad's favor. But that wouldn't deter S'tann. If his last few years here at Corrigan had proven anything, they proved that S'tann would do whatever it takes be the very best (like no one ever was.) He'd been in his fair share of bad A.R.C sessions. This one would be one for the record books, though, if it went anything like S'tann thought it would.

John Stewart gave All-Star their mission instructions over the intercom. Extracting hostages, capturing data drives and deactivating explosives. All in the Arctic. Great. Snow and Martians never really agreed with each other. At least they weren't anywhere excessively hot. S'tann held his breath, his eyes glued to the count down above the door. Once the doors opened, the cold air washed over his skin and goose bumps dotted his pink flesh. S'tann entered his Martian form, standing at least a head over everyone else in the room. He looked around at the rest of the team. Here we go. He thought to himself, stepping out into the snow. The first one to speak up was Mari, asking Molly and S'tann what the plan was. The Martian glanced over at Silver Banshee and back at Nightstar.

"Yeah. I have a few ideas." He started. "We'll split the team into multiple squads, to try and deal with as many objectives at once as we can. Alpha team will be composed of Amethyst, Richard, and Rita. Your job is to take down Kieran. The Kryptonian is their biggest gun; without him, they'll be demoralized and easier to defeat. Once we're closer I'll be able to telepathically scan the base and determine his location, and then relay that information to you."

He then turned to the more human members of the team. "Fenris, Raphael, Sugar. You're Beta team. Your job is to get to those hard drives and reactivate those explosive collars. If you can manage that, the game is basically ours." S'tann then looked specifically at Jack. "Catboy. Your job is to sneak inside and disable the bombs. Don't let them see you, alright?"

Finally, S'tann addressed the rest of the group. "The rest of us are on Delta team. That's Molly, Nightstar, Mars and myself. We're going after the hostages; and we're going in loud. Any questions? Or do have a better plan, Silver?" S'tann asked, looking around at the group and resting his eyes at last on Mailsi.

[FacePunch]

Hyperion and a squadron of four Quinjets arrived outside Bishop Packaging in record time. Helicarrier Alpha, where Hyperion was stationed, happened to be the closest of the helicarriers to New York City when SHIELD got the call. Someone named Quire had reported that he and a fellow metahuman, the one Wilson referred to as Miss America, had taken down a clandestine operation within Bishop Packaging. Allegedly, Mr. Bishop himself had been selling Mutant Growth Hormone that he was buying from another dimension. It had sounded ridiculous at first. But a cursory search of SHIELD data files on Mr. Bishop brought him up on numerous watch lists. Cross referencing the location of Bishop Packaging's headquarters with recent tears in the space time continuum and this Quentin kid had a couple of legs to stand on. That's when Marie Hill decided to send in Zhib-Ran and a specialized team of agents who dealt with matters concerning the multiverse as well as the Mutant Growth Hormone drug. The flight took roughly ten minutes, with the first Quinjet setting down moments before the hour struck.

The monstrosity of metal and wires settled down on the roof of the skyscraper. A trio of SHIELD agents, decked out in full combat gear, stepped confidently down the jet's ramp. The officer took point, his standard issue assault rifle held in his armored hands as he kicked down the emergency access door. The now-opened door revealed a set of dark stairs leading into the service entrance of the penthouse below. The team maneuvered tactically down, breaching the service door with a loud shout. "Freeze! SHIELD!" The officer commanded. He waved his weapon towards the few individuals still standing; the agents on his flanks moved to clear the rest of the room. Hyperion floated through the entrance, his feet hovering a foot or so off the ground. "Lower your weapons, men. Everyone at ease. They're the good guys." Zhib-Ran said with a wave of his hand and a polite smile. Four more squads made their way into the penthouse from the roof, one by one. They lacked the armor and automatic rifles of the first team; rather, they carried handguns and various types of futuristic equipment. Commanders barked out orders to their subordinates. Agents rushed to and fro, checking on the fallen security guards.

Hyperion dodged gracefully past the SHIELD agents and stood next to the young hero and her mutant telepathic friend. He also made note of the girl in what appeared to be sporting gear. She seemed distraught. Silly humans, they were always crying. What weak and fragile creatures they were; in both body and mind. Well, most of them. Zhib-Ran tried to look as empathetic of her plight as he could. He was a decent enough actor. Anyone who saw through the charade could reasonably guess that his strange behavior was due to his being from a different planet, where the cultural customs and even physiological make-up of his species had to be vastly different from those on earth. Agent Milton waved over one of the unarmored officers. "This is Agent Baker." He introduced the woman. She was tall, athletic and muscular. But she looked more genuinely concerned than any of the other agents in the room. "She's our resident medical officer and psych examiner. She'll do whatever she can to help you, ma'am. I couldn't possibly understand what you're going through."

With that hopefully dealt with, Hyperion turned toward Miss America. "I'll be on the roof. Come speak to me whenever you are able." With that, Hyperion left America to wrap up with Kate. He waited on the roof for (an unspecified amount of time).

Once Miss Chavez finished her little heart to heart with Miss Bishop and came up to the roof, Hyperion didn't waste any time and got down to business.

"Hello, Miss America. Let's not beat around the bush. I'm not just here to take in Mr. Bishop and.." He paused, sighing. "Pusher Man...I'm also here as a representative of Captain America and the Avengers Initiative. The Captain seems to think you would make a valuable member of the team. He wants your help protecting the world from threats too powerful for any single hero to take down. That is, if you're planning to stick around in our dimension." Hyperion paused, crossing his arms. "We could really use your help. There are threats on the horizon that're making Fury nervous. I can take you to Helicarrier Alpha to meet Captain America now. But if you want to take some time to think it over, I understand completely. Joining a team is a big commitment." Zhib-Ran said with a smile and an awkward cough. "Uh, by the way..Is there a me where you come from? What's he like?"

[FacePunch]

Various

Harvey's muscles burned like magma. His bones ached as if they were aging a thousand years a second. Sweat fell from his pores, akin to a waterfall. Thunderbolt quickly calculated the amount of time it would take him to cross the world and arrive back in Lost Haven at full speed without slowing down. At a dead sprint, Thunderbolt could cross North America in 22 seconds. The earth's width was roughly 4 North Americas long; so, some simple math later, Harvey estimated his run time to be about one minute and twenty seconds, rounding the size of North America an subsequently the earth down. That was a minute and twenty seconds his sister spent with that monstrosity. A minute and twenty seconds of Umbraxis the Destroyer still drawing breath.

A minute twenty seconds too long.

Lightning spiraled around the speedster as he ran across the Atlantic ocean, spraying salt water a hundred feet into the air behind him. He was moving fast enough that he couldn't see his own sonic boom carpet trailing a thousand miles behind him, the height of a small mountain. The amount of air he was displacing had reached dangerous levels; he was more than likely creating tsunamis and hurricanes everywhere he ran. But he had to press on, and hope beyond hope that there were no stray ships between himself and his destination. He visualized a map of the globe within his mind. Thunderbolt guessed his current position and changed his trajectory to avoid running right through the middle of the heavily urbanized continent of Europe. Instead, Harvey hoped to cross through the desolate oceans of sand and dunes that made up large chunks of Africa. The jungles would've been an issue if not for the fact that his sheer speed would cut through any obstacle that stood in his way. So Thunderbolt continued to run.

He thought of all the people that animal had slaughtered. The poor, innocent and defenseless citizens whom he had so callously absorbed into his own sick, black flesh. He vividly remembered Demolition's gargantuan, headless corpse drop against the remains of the police station, flooding the survivors left inside in his own blood. Harvey considered how effortlessly Umbraxis had snapped the Herald's neck; a hero who could arguably hold his own against Thunderbolt. The forces which Thunderbolt and Boom battled so passionately, with such fervent vengeance and righteous furry, were more powerful than either speedster could really comprehend. But Umbraxis did not know who he was messing with. He didn't understand the complex nature of the creatures he dared to challenge.

I am no stranger to fear. No stranger to terror or horror. I have experienced the worst humanity has to offer; perhaps even the worst the universe could dish out, now that I've met the Destroyer. Sometimes fear can cripple me. Can bring me to my knees. Fear runs through my blood; and the blood of every human being on the planet, I'd guess. Some days I want to give up the mask and the costume and pretend that I'm normal...

But when you come against my country...
When you come against my family...
You try to destroy my people...

The fear is overcome by rage.

Pure, livid and utterly consuming. There is no power in hell or scheme of man that can overcome a man burdened by fury. Anger has no equal. It can drive even the most timid of people to stand in the path of giants. Rage transforms the kindest humanitarian into a violent and terrible killer. It is what makes me...me. What makes me frustrated. What pisses me off. It is uniquely my own. My identity. Not my fear, but my anger. So I will stand. I will fight. And I will win.

Tears streamed down Harvey's face, pooling together with the blood leaking from his eyes and ears before flinging behind him at mach 300. His mind was of one task now; there was nothing that could distract him. So when a pair of voices began to speak within his mind, Thunderbolt didn't even notice a word they were saying.

---

"How so very interesting." One voice said. It was deep and gravelly, containing power and authority few others could speak with.

"An engaging little story, isn't it?" Another voice, more feminine, responded. "He has managed to surpass all of our expectations. Through raw emotions, this...Harvey Smith...Has nearly broken the Lightning Effect Barrier. He might even enter relativistic speeds, if we helped him along."

"Hmmm." The original voice hummed. It seemed to be in deep thought. "His efforts will not be enough. Not on his own."

"Yes. He needs our assistance."

"We will give him access to his second form."

"Oh!" The feminine voice gasped in surprise. "So soon? Is he ready? Can he even survive the transformation?"

The voice took a moment to respond. But when it did, it seemed certain. "He will survive. He is stronger than the last avatar. Although his sister seems more capable, Harvey is more worthy."

"We shall unlock his second form, so that he may defeat this great evil and continue to grow and mature in his understanding of the Lightning Effect."

---
Thunderbolt's costume tore and ripped. Pieces of friction-proof fabric were shredded to pieces by the impossible speeds Harvey had reached. Yet he was going ever faster. The intensity of the lightning streaking behind him could be seen from orbit. Harvey could feel himself..growing. An extra three inches in height caused his costume to strain further, sending larger chunks soaring behind him. Fifty pounds of muscle appeared from thin air, filling out Harvey's usually slender build with a much bulkier look. A streak of bright blue hair faded into existence, temporarily staining Thunderbolt's head. Harvey's shirt was basically gone by the time he reached mach 600, twice as fast as his previous max speed.

The eastern seaboard rushed into view.

Thunderbolt's feet slammed into the water underneath him even harder, propelling him forward further and further.

The moment his foot touched solid earth, Thunderbolt felt a massive rush of energy absorb into his body. He could see Lost Haven now. He raced through the financial district in less than half a second. There. Umbraxis had the rest of the heroes tied down, except for Supercell. He was shoving some sort of energy attack into Icon's face. Gotta move. Faster, Harvey, FASTER!

All of the energy Thunderbolt had built up during his little jog around the world, and the extra power provided by the mysterious figures from before, added on top of the energy he had absorbed when he set foot on solid earth, flowed into the small surface area contained in Harvey's fist. That energy transferred from said fist into the center of Umbraxis' mass, immediately causing a chain reaction of events that would go down in history for millennium. Atoms were split. A mushroom cloud unlike anything seen since World War Two's end lit up the sky but was quickly subdued by the impossible weather conditions created by Supercell. The shockwaves created by the attack leveled everything. Entire buildings were atomized by the force of the attack. Heat and radiation attempted to escape throughout Lost Haven and render the city lifeless for a century. Yet, Supercell's perfect storm shielded the city from the threat and tossed the negative side-effects of the explosion into space.

A microsecond before her brother slammed into Umbraxis, Boom used the brief lapse in Umbraxis' attention to vibrate her molecules fast enough to slip out of the tendrils rather easiler. She immediately did the same for Skull-Thrasher, dragging him out of the explosion's radiance. She doubted his regeneration powers would allow him to survive such a devastating blast.

When the smoke cleared, the only thing standing was Thunderbolt. His body was surrounded by lightning, blood flowing down his now-exposed chest. In his closed he held a pile of ash he hoped was Umbraxis' corpse. (Although it definitely wasn't)

"I am not afraid of you. Or anyone else who threatens my world. If you have any breathe left in you, I want you to fly off to the next big bad eyeing earth and tell it this:

"We will endure."

WORLD LEVEL: ACHIEVED

[FacePunch]

An expansive cloud of unnatural fog rolled in from seemingly nowhere and blocked the far-off laboratory from view. "Ugh." S'tann grumbled. Freddie was already up to his mischief, even before they'd begun to move out. Typical. That must mean the Suicide Squad entered the arena near or inside the research center. Well, S'tann thought, At least we know where they are. Unsurprisingly, the first words out of most of the team's lips were complaints. It's too cold! They whined. Why couldn't we be on a beach in California? They thought. Ya know, some days, S'tann wished he couldn't read mind. Telepathy was such a hassle. It seemed as if everyone wore their hearts on their sleeves; he knew their darkest secrets. Their deepest desires. Their dirtiest fantasies (those were the worst; and the most common. Disgusting human fucks). It'd be just magnificent if they'd all just SHUT UP FOR ONE BLEEDING SECOND. The Martian took in a deep breath of the freezing Arctic air. He'd never get used to it; knowing what he shouldn't no. Sometimes, S'tann wished he could close off their thoughts. Or stop reading their minds altogether. But no. That only worked when people thought quietly. It's hard to explain. But some thoughts are more easily heard than others; certain brainwave patterns can be picked up by telepaths without even trying. Those were usually the most passionate thoughts, containing the strongest emotions. The ones S'tann specifically didn't want to know.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Breathe.

Thankfully, Molly had something constructive to say. Legacy knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth, but he waited until she voiced her concerns before responding. She wanted to swap places with Amethyst. He mulled it over for a second and a half. Molly's sonic attacks would be devastating for the Kryptonian's ultra-sensitive ears. And Amethyst's powers would make her invaluable in the facility; while Molly's uncontrollable scream in what was most likely very tight corridors spelled disaster. A very logical concern. One apparently shared by Amethyst. "Alright." S'tann agreed. "Good idea. Anything else?" Molly's next question was an odd one. Although, after a moment, S'tann realized what she meant. He could fly. Very, very fast. Most of these guys and gals had peak human or less in the way of speed; which was a major disadvantage for the team. A small smirk crossed the Martian's green lips. His eyes glowed a bright red and his body began to grow, shift and change. He absorbed the electricity of the Augmented Reality Center into his body, converting it into mass and using said mass to shape shift. The shape he was going for was very clear after a moment. His torso extended to forty feet long, and each arm stretched further than that. His smooth skin transformed into hardened scales, and his arms sprouted leathery wings.

The great, black dragon let loose a terrible roar that shook the very foundation of the entire center.

"Climb on." S'tann ordered, his voice deep, powerful and guttural. The kind of voice you'd expect from a forty foot long monster with a one hundred and twenty foot wingspan. Once the team was on, S'tann beat his wings against the air and shoved himself skyward. (Well, okay. So that's a bit of a lie. The wings were just for show; he used his Martian telekinesis to fly. Now if only he could use that telekinesis for anything else. Maybe when he was a little older.) He flew forward, cutting through the sky at breakneck speeds. He had to travel at roughly half his top speed to keep from injuring any of the passengers. S'tann pushed himself upwards, up up and away! Not too far away. Just high enough to get a bird's eye view of the laboratory despite the fog. They were no doubt visible to Freddie now, if they weren't before. Good. They were supposed to be going in loud anyhow. "Listen up!" S'tann roared over the deafening wind. "I'm dropping you off, Jack, outside the fog. Keep you out of view from any prying eyes. Hold on tight!" Without anymore warning, S'tann dived. He fell near vertically towards the cloud, leveling out as they disappeared into the fog bank. Hopefully before Freddie managed to do anything crazy. Legacy glided to a stop, his four massive claws digging into the snow in an effort to slow himself down.

"Your time to shine, Catboy. The bombs are scattered in the southwestern wing of the laboratory." He remarked. Once the thief was let off, the Martian addressed the rest of the crew. "I can sense their positions now." He said. Telepathy wasn't all bad. It helped in situations such as this one. "Once we're inside, Alpha team, you'll need to split off and follow the northwest tunnel to a...a helipad. The Kryptonian should be there. Beta team, you'll need to go the opposite direction: southeast, to find the hard drives and the bomb collar controls. The rest of us will head northeast towards the hostages. Mars. Once we exit the fog we won't have much time to get to the door before Freddie hits us with everything he's got. So I'll need you to take out that door from off my back. Ready? Here we go.."

S'tann burst forth from the fog, flying head-first towards the laboratory's massive door. "Mars! Jump off and hit it! NOW!" Without a doubt, there was a whole load of pain heading their way from skyward...

[FacePunch]

| Identity |
Blue Marvel
Adam Brashear

| Origin & Backstory |

Include proper historical background that doesn't contradict setting or pre-approved CSs. Given the nature of the game, if you are playing a really established hero (such as Wonder Woman) who has been around for sometime please detail it consistently. Bolding or coloring these points such as years detailed are a good start.

| Attributes |

This one is comprised of your powers, skills, and equipment. So this means everything from your gear, skills, and superpowers (if you have any). You can describe them as briefly or detailed as you wish.

| Character Notes |

Is there anything you want to elaborate on? Extra lore for the city you call home? Notable NPCs? Basically this is for people who want their application to be more of a compendium for their NPCs, Locations, and Rogues specific to this new continuity. Optional.

| Character Goals |

This, next to the history of your character, is the most important field of the application. I’m looking for motive and drive to the point that I am safely assured that know you have a story to tell, as opposed to merely 'running into the wind'. In essence, you will be outlining your prospective arcs. For example: “The Killing Joke” could go well in an application for Barbara Gordon as a character. If you passionately explain your goal then I can have confidence in you being active in this role-play.

| References |

This is to make sure you can write at a level that the game needs. Link 1-3 posts of your writing level in other RPs.

[FacePunch]

Everything went to hell in a hand basket rather quickly. Freddie caused his fog bank to dissipate, leaving the Squadron exposed as S'tann unloaded Jack and explained the extent of the plan to the rest of the team. Probably a poor choice of hiding places, but hindsight is 20/20. Luckily, it seemed that the rest of the Suicide Squad was preoccupied; which left All-Star enough time to take off. But they weren't off the hook just yet. The wind began to pick up; its speed increasing as snow was flung about by the growing vortex. The Martian Boy's flight pattern was thrown off almost immediately by Freddie's storm. "Hold on!" S'tann warned. The dragon's massive body was tossed about by the violent, freezing air currents, threatening to tear the passengers off before they reached their objective. Legacy strained with all of his might to fight the power of the blizzard. It took everything he had to keep from going into a corkscrew and crashing into the side of the laboratory; leaving little room for fine motor control. S'tann loosed another roar, shoving his wings down with all of his might. The dragon's flight path was momentarily corrected, leaving Mars just barely enough time to take out the door. Mari saw S'tann's struggle and thankfully intervened, firing off starbolts into the door to weaken the metal and concrete construct.

To the meathead's credit, he can do one thing right: hit things. Really fucking hard.

The massive steel door shattered under the force of the superhuman's punch. S'tann ceased his struggle against the force of nature outside, tumbling inside the castle with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. The shapeshifting alien crashed into the stone floor and cracked it with the force of his fall. S'tann absorbed as much of the impact as he could and kept his passengers relatively safe. The beast's gigantic body shrunk rapidly. Scales, skin and bone cracked and melted as the Martian returned to his normal state. His body ejected all of the extra energy he'd absorbed, shooting it off into the air in the form of background microwave radiation. S'tann bent over, his hands firmly planted on his knees as he struggled to take in the necessary oxygen required to stay conscious. Shapeshifting burned a hell of a lot of calories in a very short span of time; without his enhanced alien physiology, S'tann would have gone in to shock from the pain and exhaustion. But S'tann S'tonn was no mere human.

Legacy glanced around at the rest of the team. They were all in different states of readiness; some were more prepared for this than others. He mentally weighed his options, wondering what adjustments should be made to the plan. He'd seen Rita and Mailsi take off for the roof; obviously going after the Kryptonian. Mars and Mari looked pumped and ready to brawl. Amethyst appeared as flustered as ever; not a change from her normal demeanor. Fenris, Richard, Sugar and Raphael were-

Luthor's voice blared over the intercom, halting the Martian's line of thought. His generic villain monologue brought a smirk to S'tann's face. Julian had a way with satire that Martian Boy couldn't deny. "If he thinks-" S'tann started, but found himself interrupted once more. But this time by explosives and a collapsing roof.

Move, S'tann. Move!

Legacy's body shifted and transformed at a rate faster than what he'd consider safe. He formed what appeared to be a giant green tarp, flying over top the most human members of All-Star Squadron. The ones he thought would be injured by the falling debris. S'tann wrapped his body around Fenris, Raphael, Richard, Amethyst, and Mars. He would have grabbed Sugar too, but her ghost (or whatever the hell it is) seemed to have that under control. Chunks of stone and enormous pillars slammed into the Martian's exposed form. The Martian waited until the torrent of sound and pain ceased before letting himself breathe. He took on a more malleable form, pushing against the pile of rock that threatened to crush him. S'tann cleared as much of the debris as he could before returning to normal form and falling to his knees. His pain was beyond simulated now; he knew there were a few bruises in his rib cage now. But there wasn't time to rest. He needed to keep moving; keep his team moving.

"Mari?" S'tann called, shoving himself to his feet. "You still breathing?" His ear buzzed and Silver Banshee's voice echoed through his bleeding brain. "Yeah. Yeah. He's..." Legacy took a deep breathe, scanning for Kieran's psychic location. A short migraine later, S'tann responded. "He's moving towards the center of the facility at super speeds. But you and Rita might be able to intercept him if you hurry. Sending you a telepathic picture of his location; I'll try to update it whenever I can." S'tann turned towards the rest of the team, helping them dig out Sugar and Mari as best he could. To be honest, the Martian didn't know how much he had left. He was battered and exhausted; in no condition to fight a 100% Keiran, that much was certain. But he needed to keep moving. Just...keep moving. "Sugar. Take your team and get to the hard drives. Maybe there's still time to complete those side objectives. The rest of us will make a go for the hostages; you too, Richard. I don't think you'll be able to catch up with the girls and Kent. We'll need the help anyway." S'tann mentioned, placing a tender hand on his visibly bruised side.

It was a silent message, but a clear one. Martian Boy wasn't doing too hot.

[FacePunch]

The best there is

WOLVERINE

NAME: James 'Logan' Howlett

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Walking the Line
AFFILIATION: The Resistance, Mutants

ORIGIN AND BACKSTORY:

Pre-Timejump

James Howlett was born in Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada in the year 1885. His mother, Elizabeth Howlett, was married to John Howlett, a rich plantation owner. His father, James Logan, was one of the grounds keepers at John Howlett's plantation. Elizabeth had become dissatisfied with her husband's lack of sex drive at some point in their marriage, and had started a secret relationship with James Logan to satisfy her needs. When Elizabeth found out that she was with James' child, she tried to pass him off as John's son. The ruse was quickly seen through when James was born and looked nothing like his father; indeed, he shared a number of physical attributes with James Logan. When John found out, he spiraled into crippling depression. Elizabeth and John's marriage splintered as each threatened divorce at the drop of a dime, but never truly went through with it for fear of their own son, John Howlett, Jr.

Grandpa Howlett, father of James Howlett, saw his son's failure and set out to raise his grandsons correctly. He would use physical violence to punish young James and John, stating the moniker "Firm, but Fair" as explanation whenever his methods were brought into question. The two boys grew up in relative peace until John Howlett, Jr. first manifested his powers. A group of locals bullies had attacked his illegitimate brother, and John had stepped in to stop them. One of the kids drew a knife when the fight started to become heated. In response, John's body forced the young Howlett into popping his claws. John Howlett chased off the bullies. Eventually Grandpa Howlett learned of the event. Deeming his son a 'demon' for his mutant powers, Grandpa Howlett paid off a group of local thugs to drown John to death.

James was devastated. His only brother, the only person who seemed to care about him, was dead. His parents were too busy fighting to notice that James had started sneaking out of the house, looking for the men who killed John. Eventually, Wolverine found them, and used his own claws to kill the murderers out of revenge. James later found out that his Grandpa had paid the gang to attack John, and confronted his grandfather. When Mister Howlett tried to hit Logan, the boy lashed out and killed his grandpa too. The town rallied together and burned down Elizabeth and John's estate, and forced Logan to leave because of his crimes and mutation. The child was forced to hunt for survival. He became adept at killing, both people and animals alike.

Eventually Logan met an Indian belonging to the Blackfoot Tribe. The Native American adopted the savage Canadian child, bringing Logan back to the tribe where Logan would spend the rest of his pubescent life. Among the Blackfoots, Logan learned how to hunt and live off the land. The natives accepted the boy as one of them, even going so far as to name Logan "Wolverine," after his strange mutation. While among the Blackfoot Tribe, Logan made friends with a pair of children, Rose and Dog. It was Rose who taught Wolverine the value of life, no matter where it came from. These teachings would later guide James on the path to good instead of evil. Dog taught Logan how to track. They would follow deer for miles through the woods, as silent as the darkness and swift as the wind. It was during these lessons that Wolverine's enhanced senses came into fruition. This is also where James met the first love of his life: Silver Fox, a beautiful Indian girl.

Here, with the tribe, James Howlett was happy. But it could not be so. A mysterious figure, Romulus, ordered Victor Creed to attack the tribe. The Blackfoot Tribe was slaughtered, and James would have died if not for his healing factor. Sabertooth dealt a powerful blow to Wolverine's head, causing James' memories to become fuddled and distorted. Knocked into a near feral state by his future archenemy, James traveled across Canada for the next seven years. He lived like an animal until he met an old miner named Smitty, who offered to take the boy in. James lived with Smitty until the start of the Great War.

Both Smitty and James (now going by the name Logan) joined up with the Canadian military when Britain joined the Great War. Smitty and James were separated when Wolverine (under the influencing hand of Romulus) was conscripted into the Devil's Brigade, a special forces/black ops group that didn't answer to the government. The brigade was led by one Silas Burr, who would one day become the mercenary known as Cyber. Romulus used the Devil's Brigade to fulfill his own agenda as the war progressed, and the brigade was sent to fight in Europe. At one point, the Canadian government attempted to arrest Silas Burr for war crimes he committed previously (namely, burning down a school full of German children) but Victor Creed appeared briefly and freed Cyber.

Wolverine was apart of a massive battle that occurred at Ypers, Belgium on April 15, 1915. It was here that Logan first encountered the forces of the Sentinel Order; a secret society made up of Germany's most rich and powerful, headed by the Trask family. Leading the Sentinels on the battlefield was a powerful angel named Azrael. Wolverine engaged Azrael in melee, and the two immortal warriors crossed blade and claws. The duel ended in the Angel of Death being sent back to whence he came, and Wolverine being cursed with eternal depression for as long as he lived.

After the Great War ended, Logan returned to Canada and lived alone until the next World War. When Hitler declared war on all of Western Europe, Logan once again joined the Canadian military. This time, Romulus did not have his puppet join the Devil's Brigade. Rather, Romulus had Logan placed in a unit assigned under Steve Rogers' command. So Wolverine teamed up with the original Captain America and his sidekick, Bucky Barnes. They were tasked with bringing down Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker and HYDRA, who were reportedly creating some kind of doomsday weapon. Logan and the Captain took down HYDRA and disabled the weapon before it was used, but Von Strucker escaped capture. Later, Wolverine was tasked with in infiltrating Mandipoor and freeing a group of children kidnapped by The Hand. Logan defeated The Viper and her ninja allies, freeing the children (one of which being a young Natasha Romanov) and bringing them back to Britain. During the war Logan encountered a vampire known as Bloodscream, an Asgardian troll named Roughouse, a mutant named the Silver Samurai, and even Nick Fury himself. Wolverine had been present in Nagasaki when the nuke was dropped on the city. If not for his healing factor, Logan would have died.

After the war ended, Logan decided to stay in Japan. He met a master martial artist and Samurai named Orgun, who offered to train Wolverine. Logan accepted, and the two worked together from dawn till dusk for years honing Logan's combat skills, but armed and unarmed. He also learned the code of honor that all Samuari followed, and took it up himself on Orgun's suggestion. Now knowledgeable of the code of Bushido, Logan found himself a home. It was then that he met a beautiful woman named Itsu, whom Logan started a family with. One day, while Logan was out training with Ogun, Romulus sent Sabertooth to murder Itsu and steal Wolverine's son, Daken. Devastated, James Howlett returned to Canada where he was brought on to the Weapon X Program by Romulus. Professor Thorton, Dr. Abraham Cornelius, and Carol Hines were brought in to examine the mutant. It was when The Professor discovered the extent of Wolverine's healing factor that he had the idea to cover his bones in Adamantium. The procedure would kill any normal human, and most superhumans, but with a healing factor like Logan's his body could fight off the Adamantium poisoning and keep him alive. Thorton's procedure was given the green light, and they proceeded to implant Wolverine with the Adamantium upgrades.

With that, Logan's superiors had his mind wiped once more and had Wolverine join Team X. Team X was a group mutants who worked as black ops special forces troops who did whatever Romulus told them to. No one knew exactly who Romulus was, but they knew that he was an ancient mutant with the ability to coarse animals to follow his bidding. The animal within Wolervine had betrayed him, and Logan was under Romulus' control for as long as his feral mind remained intact. For Logan to break free, he would have to acknowledge that he was more man than monster.

Team X consisted of Wolverine, Sabertooth, Maverick, John Wraith, Mastodon and later Deadpool, Lady Deathstrike and X-23. The latter three were all created using Wolverine's DNA and possessed various parts of Wolverine's mutation.

Team X operated during various wars and conflicts throughout the years. They battled the Sentinel Order's Asian division in Korea during the Korean War. When the Cold War began, Wolverine and Sabertooth were sent to Russia to locate a device capable of creating Carbonium, a metal similar to Adamantium but easier to synthesize, and less poisonous to humans when handled without the proper equipment. They encountered the agent known as Omega Red before escaping with the device and delivering it to Romulus. The team split up briefly when the Vietnam War began, with Wolverine sent to take down an out of control super soldier named Nuke. Logan succeeded in bringing the man down, and brought him back to Weapon X before being sent back to Vietnam. Wolverine continued to assassinate various politicians, generals and activists who stood in the way of mutant progress. Romulus' forces clashed with the Trask family and their Sentinel Order as history continued to move on, oblivious to the secret war occurring in the shadows.

Now it is 2012, and hiding their war is becoming harder and harder. The newest member of the Trask dynasty, Bolivar Trask, has taken over Trask Industries in America and started to work on the Sentinel program. Mutants are going missing every day, and Romulus believes Trask is somehow involved. So he was assigned Wolverine with the task of hunting down everyone involved in the scheme and bringing them to justice, freeing his mutant brothers and sisters in the process.

Post timejump

The destruction of the Weapon X facility and the death of Professor Thorton changed everything. The revelation that Team X had been under the mental control of Romulus shook the team to their core. With this information in hand, the team split up and went their separate ways. Wolverine was captured by SHIELD and imprisoned for six months for his crimes against the United States and abroad. During his imprisonment, Logan learns that a team of heroes called the Avengers have formed and taken the Incredible Hulk into their ranks, pardoning him for his past crimes. This news distresses the mutant assassin; that monster had been responsible for his capture. It had caused more damage than Wolverine did in his entire life time; every time Banner let it loose, the Hulk cost the nations of the world billions of dollars in collateral. But who was sitting in a jail cell, surrounded by fifty men armed with the most advanced firearms on the market? Not the Hulk. Just the confused, mind controlled mutant who only wanted to be left alone. He let that frustration and anger that boiled in his gut transform into hatred for the green giant. He'd kill Bruce Banner if it was the last thing he did. That was a promise. A covenant. One he planned to keep.

Eventually word reached Nick Fury that Logan Howlett had been under the mental influence of a far more sinister threat; nothing he'd done was done under his own free will. Therefore, SHIELD's judicial advisers found the mutant to be innocent. But Nick Fury wouldn't let an invincible, immortal assassin go; such an asset had to be exploited. So Fury made a deal with Wolverine. The mutant killer would be allowed to go free. But whenever SHIELD needed some under the table assistance, Logan would work for them; if he refused, they'd hunt him to the ends of the earth. Nick, of course, simply forgot to tell James that he had been found innocent. He spun the proposal as the only way Logan would see the light of day once more. So Wolverine, of course, accepted. The mutant bought a flat in Hell's Kitchen and tried to start up a normal life. He got a job at a local restaurant working in the kitchen, joined a local MMA gym, and even started dating.

By the end of 2013, things were looking up for Wolverine. The few times he was called to work for Nick Fury's "X-Force" were the only times Logan had to pop his claws. He worked closely with SHIELD's mutant team to take down Bolivar Trask and his Sentinel Order. The X-Force fought against the Hulk when the beast went on one of its rampages; Wolverine tried his best to kill Banner, but the Avengers intervened and the X-Force had to retreat to prevent public exposure of their operations.

In February of 2014, Wolverine met Charles Xavier while on assignment for SHIELD. He brought a number of orphaned mutants he'd freed from Trask's forces to the X-mansion, handing them over to the professor. Logan, intrigued by the X-Men's operations, chose to stick around the school and lend a helping hand. Professor Xavier helped Wolverine remember his past. Logan offered his extensive martial arts knowledge to the X-men, training them extensively in the art of personal combat. Wolverine preforms a number of black ops for SHIELD within Latverian Union territory.

By mid-2015, Wolverine was an official member of the X-Men and Fury released Logan from his X-Force obligations. He chose to help SHIELD whenever they needed it; he'd grown attached to the other members of the X-Force, and it offered a way for Wolverine to reconnect with some of his old teammates. It was actually through the machinations of Fury that Wolverine and X-23 reunited, leading to Laura becoming a student at Xavier's school. Kang the Conqueror appeared during that year, and Wolverine (alongside some of the X-Men) assisted the Avengers in bringing the time traveling tyrant down. Another feud between the runt and the giant ensued before the latter was sucked into a time portal by Kang and vanished for the year.

With the return of the Hulk, now calling itself Maestro and possessing an extraordinary intelligence, Wolverine's distrust of the creature grows. The two continue their battles, Xavier and Captain America's attempts to stop them from fighting proving to be less than useless. The X-Force becomes more active in Eastern Europe and Latveria, sabotaging the east as best they can. When war breaks out in 2017, the X-Force embeds itself in enemy territory. The team takes on the guise of a traveling circus, Wolverine now being known as Revolto the Clown. Certain members of the X-Men join the X-Force to help with the war effort. Wolverine duels Doctor Doom personally; he fails to kill the dictator.

The X-Force and the Maestro-led Avengers have a falling out, leading to a small skirmish. The X-Force decide to abandon the fight in France and the UK, leaving the Avengers to that as they attempt to demolish Latveria's infrastructure from the inside out.

By winter of 2019, the X-Force, X-Men and Avengers unite and assault Victor Von Doom's castle with the help of helicarrier Hermes. Wolverine personally leads the mutant attack on Christmas Day, following Maestro and Loki inside. The extinction level event occurs and most of the world is completely wiped out. The annual Avengers New Years party is cancelled.

Maestro's rise to supreme leader of the survivors of the apocalypse is bloody and violent. Anyone who resisted was unceremoniously executed, proving to Wolverine what he'd thought of the Hulk all along: he was a bloodthirsty monster that needed to be put down. Logan rallied what support he could and went into hiding, fighting Maestro at every turn. The Avengers were killed off one by one. Wolverine's rag-tag resistance wasn't able to stop the increasingly insane Hulk's conquest of Latveria, and eventually they ceased fighting all together and ventured into the badlands to avoid the Maestro's wraith. With the destruction of hundreds of mutant communities in 2023, Wolverine disappears off the radar completely. He sets himself up somewhere in the Turkish wilderness, creating a tiny safe haven for wandering mutants from the rabid packs of Maestro's followers. The nameless little town, nicknamed Utopia by its two dozen or so residents, would grow under the vigilante eye of the Wolverine. Fifty some years would pass before Wolverine heard from anyone he knew back in the golden days. He received an ominous message from an old frenemy, claiming that the resistance was on the rise once more.

MUTANT ABILITIES/SKILLS:

hider

Bone Claws: One of Wolverine's mutations, Logan was born with six 12-inch long claws that he can protract and retract out of and into his forearm at will. When retracted, these claws are housed between the skin and muscles of his arms. When popped, the claws come out between the knuckles of Logan's hands and cut through the skin and muscle located there. These wounds are temporary thanks to Wolverine's enhanced healing factor, though it's still quite painful whenever Logan releases them. These claws, like the rest of Wolverine's bones, are coated in Adamantium and can cut through nearly anything.
UPDATE: Logan's claws are as sharp as ever, but he worries that one of these days he'll get hit by someone too high above his weight class and his weakening bones will be damaged. On the flip side, Wolverine has adapted his claws perfectly into his fighting style, making him more dangerous than when he was younger.

Healing Factor: Another of Wolverine's many mutations, Logan possesses a powerful healing factor. This healing factor can repair Logan's body from nearly any injury, from anything as minor as a cut to complete and total vaporization. As long as a single cell remains alive, Wolverine can regenerate his body; combined with his Adamantium laced bone structure, Logan is effectively immortal. The time it takes Logan to heal depends upon the injuries he has sustained. Something like a small cut in his skin will heal in seconds. More complex structures, such as bones or organs, take minutes. If reduced to nothing but his Adamantium skeleton, it would take Wolverine anywhere from thirty to forty five minutes to regenerate back to full strength.
UPDATE: Wolverine's healing factor has degraded somewhat, due to the constant radiation exposure as well as the passing of time. He heals slower, and has begun to grow old.

Superhuman Senses: Yet another of Logan's mutations, Wolverine's senses are far superior to those of humans and even animals. Logan can see for miles with perfect clarity in the dark. He can hear a pin drop from a mile away, if he focuses his hearing to their maximum strength. Logan has learned to control his hearing to keep it from being distracting. Wolverine can pick out scents from things that haven't been nearby in weeks, and is able to track them across continents. Combining all of his enhanced senses together, Wolverine is able to detect when a person is lying due to chemicals changes in their systems.
UPDATE: Logan's senses have begun to degrade with his old age and radiation exposure.

Super Strength: Thanks to his constant cellular regeneration and unbreakable skeleton, Logan has developed strength impossible for a normal human. Wolverine can bench press two tons, snap chains with his bare hands, and throw half a ton of weight across a room.
UPDATE: James' strength has lessened as well.

Super Speed: Similar to his Super Strength, Wolverine has used his mutations to surpass human limitations. Logan can sprint fast enough that he disappears from the human eye, and can effectively dodge bullets by following the gunman's hand and moving out of the way before the shooter's eyes register that Logan has, indeed, moved.
UPDATE: Wolverine has slowed down in his old age, but he's still pretty fast.

Enhanced Immune System: Logan's healing factor extends to protecting him from not only physical injury but also sickness and extreme weather conditions. Wolverine can hold his breathe for forty minutes before passing out. He can sleep in subzero climates completely naked.
UPDATE: While his immune system is still incredible, Wolverine's age and radiation poisoning have taken its toll on his body's functions.
Adamantium-laced Skeleton: The Weapon X Program has surrounded all of James Howlett's bones in the indestructible metal known as Primary Adamantium. Nothing on earth or beyond can bend or dent it. The only powers assumed capable of damaging Adamantium are cosmic forces like the Phoenix Force or Galactus. If this is the case, however, is not known for sure.
UPDATE: Decades of one on one fights with the Hulk and other powerful heroes and villains have left Logan's skeleton weaker. Adamantium isn't as indestructible as it once appeared; Logan fears he's a couple of poundings away from receiving a permanent scar to his bones.

Martial Arts Master: When Logan was conscripted into the Weapon X Program, he had a number of martial art styles taught to him by the world's premier masters in the arts. Some of the styles Wolverine has mastered include: Jiu-Jitsu, Taekwondo, Silat, Kung-Fu, Muay Thai, Krav Maga, and American boxing. Logan Howlett is one of the most versatile martial artists on the planet, with the skill to go toe-to-toe with Captain America, Black Panther, and even the immortal Iron Fist. While not as technically masterful as those listed, Wolverine's powers make up for it in a fight.
UPDATE: Unlike his mutant powers, Logan's skill as a martial artist have only grown. He's mastered more styles than his younger years, and claims to have surpassed some of the greats of the old days. This utter mastery of combat is what allows the aging hero to still battle Maestro and his forces; he's learned the perfect way to fight the Hulk, making him infinitely more dangerous than when they first fought.

Sample Post::

"My name's Logan Howlett. People call me the Wolverine. I'm the best I am at what I do, and what I do...isn't very nice." Logan was perched atop a gargoyle overlooking a nearby hotel. He'd climbed up the side of the cathedral earlier that day, and had been waiting up here for his target to return to his bedroom. While he waited, Wolverine liked to do these little recording. It kept the assassin sane at times like this; times when he was alone, moments from taking another life. It was funny. You'd think someone like Logan would have gotten over the whole fuss of murder a long time ago, with all that blood on his hands. But truth is? You never get over it. Poppin' the claws hurts every time.

"I've been tracking this guy, name's Henry Jenkins, for a couple'a weeks. S'pose to be some big shot in New York City's underworld. My handlers seem to think Mister Jenkins runs a Mutant Trafficking ring; one of the biggest in these United States o' America. He's staying in a fancy hotel downtown, waiting for a couple'a buyers from overseas to meet him there tomorrow. But he won't live to see tomorrow. 'Cuz he is gettin' a visit from yours truly."

Logan tapped on his ear, shutting off the recording device for the time being. He'd seen something. Wolverine brought a pair of futuristic binoculars up to his eyes, pressing one of the many buttons on the side. Logan's vision washed blue as the thermal visor came to life. Logan maneuvered the device around the hotel penthouse, watching the people inside. They were little more than blobs of yellow and red heat, but Logan compensated for that using his sense of smell. If he took a big enough whiff, he could pick out the individual smells from each and every person inside the hotel and outside on the streets. Logan could also smell the garbage truck turning the corner. And the hot dog stand on the sidewalk under him. "There ya are.." Wolverine muttered, watching the front door to the penthouse open. Four more shapes entered the apartment and made their way towards the dinning room. He could smell the target's sweat from here. That was definitely Henry Jenkins.

Wolverine pulled a grappling hook off his belt, before placing the binoculars back into his backpack. It wasn't elegant, but it worked. Logan pointed the piece of equipment at the penthouse, aiming for the roof. He fired it off, the hook flying through the air silently before slamming through the concrete and brick of the hotel roof. He tested the line for strength. Once Logan was sure it would hold all three hundred pounds of him, Wolverine secured his backpack to his back before jumping off the gargoyle and swinging across the street hundreds of feet in the air. For a second, Wolverine felt like he was Spider-Man; what with all the swinging across New York and such. But there wasn't time for such childish thoughts, so Logan set those aside and harnessed the animal inside.

The sound of glass shattering alerted the seven guards inside the penthouse to Wolverine's presence. They drew their sidearms, making their way towards the hallway where the sound had come from. The first one to get there was met with three claws through the skull. As Wolverine pulled the dead bodyguard off his claws, shoving him away with a kick to the dead man's chest, two more guards appeared from behind. They brought their guns up and opened fire, unloading on the intruder. Wolverine roared, flinging their buddy over his shoulders like he was filled with feathers. The three men collided and tumbled to the floor. Wolverine crossed the hallway in the blink of an eye, impaling both of the downed gunmen in their chests. More guards were approaching. Wolverine glanced at the ceiling. Perfect.

Two more guards walked into the hallway. They found their three comrades, dead. Stabbed to death. One of the thugs bent down to examine the dead for clues, while his partner watched his back. Suddenly a pair of clawed hands fell from the sky, stabbing into the bodyguard's shoulders. Logan dragged the screaming guy into the air, before tossing him out of the broken window. The guy screamed the whole way down. The second goon rolled around on the ground, moving to the wall as he looked around. Terrified. Panicking. Wolverine loved it. "W-Where are you?!" He screamed. "Here." The mercenary appeared in full view. Standing in front of the mercenary, was the Wolverine. Clothed in orange and black spandex, claws extending from his knuckles, Wolverine was a terrifying sight.

In the bedroom, the final two guards stood next to Henry Jenkins. Jenkins was utterly afraid, clutching his fat knees to his chest as he tried to prevent himself from fainting. There was a knock on the door. The guards brought their sub machine guns up to their hips, opening fire. "Stop!" Jenkins shouted. "Stop shooting, damn it!" The two goons complied, and their was nothing but silence as they reloaded their guns and waited. Then the door knob began to turn. Jenkins started screaming bloody murder as Wolverine opened the door and dashed into the room. Jenkins' bodyguards tried to defend him. They really did. But they couldn't even see their attacker, let alone have time to aim at him. Wolverine slashed both of their throats open, sending blood spraying across the bed room as they fell on the floor. Dead.

"P-Please don't kill me. I'll give you anything. Anything! Please!"

Wolverine grabbed Jenkins by his sweaty, grubby throat and slammed him against the wall. Jenkins started to cry, and pissed himself. Logan growled, placing his hand against Jenkins' chin. Two claws shot up, centimeters from hitting Henry. "You know where the third one's comin' up." Logan growled. "Tell me where the kids are, or I turn ya into a shish kabob." The guy nodded furiously. "49th and Roe. There's a warehouse on the docks. T-The kids are in the basement." Wolverine pushed harder against the guys chin, his last claw barely poking out. "NO! T-There's a dozen guards, all armed! A-And...And...A boat's comin' for them some time tomorrow." Logan wasn't satisfied yet, so he let the claw prick Jenkins' neck. "There's a hundred and twenty three kids down there, all mutants! From six to eighteen! They're suppose to go to Trask Industries in Boston. I was going to meet a representative from Trask tomorrow. That's all I know, I swear." Wolverine took a whiff of the child slaver. He was telling the truth. "See ya in Hell, bub. Say hi to Azrael for me." The final claw shot up into Jenkins' brain and out the top of his skull, killing him instantly.

"My names Wolverine. I'm the best I am at what I do, and what I do...I love ta do more than anything else in the world."

[FacePunch]

The destruction of the Weapon X facility and the death of Professor Thorton changed everything. The revelation that Team X had been under the mental control of Romulus shook the team to their core. With this information in hand, the team split up and went their separate ways. Wolverine was captured by SHIELD and imprisoned for six months for his crimes against the United States and abroad. During his imprisonment, Logan learns that a team of heroes called the Avengers have formed and taken the Incredible Hulk into their ranks, pardoning him for his past crimes. This news distresses the mutant assassin; that monster had been responsible for his capture. It had caused more damage than Wolverine did in his entire life time; every time Banner let it loose, the Hulk cost the nations of the world billions of dollars in collateral. But who was sitting in a jail cell, surrounded by fifty men armed with the most advanced firearms on the market? Not the Hulk. Just the confused, mind controlled mutant who only wanted to be left alone. He let that frustration and anger that boiled in his gut transform into hatred for the green giant. He'd kill Bruce Banner if it was the last thing he did. That was a promise. A covenant. One he planned to keep.

Eventually word reached Nick Fury that Logan Howlett had been under the mental influence of a far more sinister threat; nothing he'd done was done under his own free will. Therefore, SHIELD's judicial advisers found the mutant to be innocent. But Nick Fury wouldn't let an invincible, immortal assassin go; such an asset had to be exploited. So Fury made a deal with Wolverine. The mutant killer would be allowed to go free. But whenever SHIELD needed some under the table assistance, Logan would work for them; if he refused, they'd hunt him to the ends of the earth. Nick, of course, simply forgot to tell James that he had been found innocent. He spun the proposal as the only way Logan would see the light of day once more. So Wolverine, of course, accepted. The mutant bought a flat in Hell's Kitchen and tried to start up a normal life. He got a job at a local restaurant working in the kitchen, joined a local MMA gym, and even started dating.

By the end of 2013, things were looking up for Wolverine. The few times he was called to work for Nick Fury's "X-Force" were the only times Logan had to pop his claws. He worked closely with SHIELD's mutant team to take down Bolivar Trask and his Sentinel Order. The X-Force fought against the Hulk when the beast went on one of its rampages; Wolverine tried his best to kill Banner, but the Avengers intervened and the X-Force had to retreat to prevent public exposure of their operations.

In February of 2014, Wolverine met Charles Xavier while on assignment for SHIELD. He brought a number of orphaned mutants he'd freed from Trask's forces to the X-mansion, handing them over to the professor. Logan, intrigued by the X-Men's operations, chose to stick around the school and lend a helping hand. Professor Xavier helped Wolverine remember his past. Logan offered his extensive martial arts knowledge to the X-men, training them extensively in the art of personal combat. Wolverine preforms a number of black ops for SHIELD within Latverian Union territory.

By mid-2015, Wolverine was an official member of the X-Men and Fury released Logan from his X-Force obligations. He chose to help SHIELD whenever they needed it; he'd grown attached to the other members of the X-Force, and it offered a way for Wolverine to reconnect with some of his old teammates. It was actually through the machinations of Fury that Wolverine and X-23 reunited, leading to Laura becoming a student at Xavier's school. Kang the Conqueror appeared during that year, and Wolverine (alongside some of the X-Men) assisted the Avengers in bringing the time traveling tyrant down. Another feud between the runt and the giant ensued before the latter was sucked into a time portal by Kang and vanished for the year.

With the return of the Hulk, now calling itself Maestro and possessing an extraordinary intelligence, Wolverine's distrust of the creature grows. The two continue their battles, Xavier and Captain America's attempts to stop them from fighting proving to be less than useless. The X-Force becomes more active in Eastern Europe and Latveria, sabotaging the east as best they can. When war breaks out in 2017, the X-Force embeds itself in enemy territory. The team takes on the guise of a traveling circus, Wolverine now being known as Revolto the Clown. Certain members of the X-Men join the X-Force to help with the war effort. Wolverine duels Doctor Doom personally; he fails to kill the dictator.

The X-Force and the Maestro-led Avengers have a falling out, leading to a small skirmish. The X-Force decide to abandon the fight in France and the UK, leaving the Avengers to that as they attempt to demolish Latveria's infrastructure from the inside out.

By winter of 2019, the X-Force, X-Men and Avengers unite and assault Victor Von Doom's castle with the help of helicarrier Hermes. Wolverine personally leads the mutant attack on Christmas Day, following Maestro and Loki inside. The extinction level event occurs and most of the world is completely wiped out. The annual Avengers New Years party is cancelled.

Maestro's rise to supreme leader of the survivors of the apocalypse is bloody and violent. Anyone who resisted was unceremoniously executed, proving to Wolverine what he'd thought of the Hulk all along: he was a bloodthirsty monster that needed to be put down. Logan rallied what support he could and went into hiding, fighting Maestro at every turn. The Avengers were killed off one by one. Wolverine's rag-tag resistance wasn't able to stop the increasingly insane Hulk's conquest of Latveria, and eventually they ceased fighting all together and ventured into the badlands to avoid the Maestro's wraith. With the destruction of hundreds of mutant communities in 2023, Wolverine disappears off the radar completely. He sets himself up somewhere in the Turkish wilderness, creating a tiny safe haven for wandering mutants from the rabid packs of Maestro's followers. The nameless little town, nicknamed Utopia by its two dozen or so residents, would grow under the vigilante eye of the Wolverine. Fifty some years would pass before Wolverine heard from anyone he knew back in the golden days. He received an ominous message from an old frenemy, claiming that the resistance was on the rise once more.

[FacePunch]

| Identity |
Solomon Grundy
Cyprus Gold

| Origin & Backstory |

Born on a Monday

Cyprus Gold was born in Gotham City, New Jersey. Cyprus Gold, Sr., Cyprus' father, moved to Gotham in an attempt to gain power and fortune. Gold joined a local gang working out of the Old Gotham docks, gaining money through black market profiteering and protection rackets. Cyprus Senior worked his way up the little gang's ranks until he found himself the second-in-command; he promptly murdered the gang's leader and asserted himself as the new top dog. Gold swiftly conquered nearby territories and absorbed as many rival gangs as he could, killing anyone who stood in his way. He expanded his gang's market, selling drugs, contraband and automatic weapons as well as muscling his way into the prostitution and grand theft auto rings. In a decade, Cyprus Gold built himself a tiny empire in Old Gotham. No one dared to challenge him. That is, until Vincent Falcone, a recent upstart in Gotham, appeared to be gathering up supporters in Upper East Side. Cyprus tried his best to put Vincent down, but Falcone proved to be too cunning for the weak-minded Gold, setting himself up as Gotham's greatest mob boss.

This angered Cyprus. He needed to take down Falcone before anyone else got the bright idea that Gotham City was open season for any upstart entrepreneur. So Cyprus Gold sought out an ally in Pearl Schmidt, a professional criminal from Germany. Pearl reorganized Gold's gang and brought efficiency to the system Cyprus had set up. She was impressed by Gold's ruthless brutality; and Cyprus was similarly impressed by Schmidt's fierce intelligence. The two quickly became an item. The two married, ignoring the rise of the Marconi and Zucco families, as well as Vincent Falcone's growing gang in the north. A year after their marriage, Cyprus Gold Junior was born.

Christened on Tuesday

Cyprus, Jr. was raised to be a crook, just like his father. He was taught to do anything he could to get ahead in life; he was brought up specifically to have no moral compass to speak of. His parents showed him little love or compassion, instead choosing to turn Junior into a hardened and ruthless thug. Junior was privately tutored by the best teachers that money could buy. One of these teachers, known only as Miss Mercury, showed Cyprus an alternate perspective: she showed the young boy what it meant to be kind. She gave the boy the only thing his parents couldn't, which was love. Cyprus reluctantly found himself attached to this woman, to the point of caring for her above his own flesh and blood. But her love turned out to be a ruse created by Junior's father, who ordered Mercury to kill Cyprus Junior. Little Gold fought back, murdering Miss Mercury with a pencil through the eye, impaling her brain. This was Cyprus Gold, S'r's ultimate lesson for his son. Anyone who loved you would only stab you in the back. No one could be trusted. Everyone was your enemy.

Gold Senior grew old. His gang had weakened greatly, with the other families gaining more and more of Cyprus's territory each passing day. It wouldn't be long before Cyprus Gold's empire crumbled before him. Vincent Falcone saw Cyprus Gold's weakness and struck; paying off his wife, Pearl, to assassinate the old man. Pearl, more loyal to her pocket book than her husband, accepted the contract. She slipped into her husband's bedroom one midnight and attempted to stab him in the heart. But Cyprus Gold always slept with one eye open. He was always prepared for the worst. Gold retrieved a pistol from his nightstand, and a fight ensued between husband and wife. Cyprus Junior, now a teenager, watched as his parents killed each other from the dim light of the hallway.

Married on Wednesday

The Gold family gang collapsed, its territory annexed by Vincent Falcone in short order. Cyprus Gold fled Old Gotham and moved to Amusement Mile, seeking asylum from Falcone's wraith. He got a job at a local underworld bar known as "My Alibi." There, he could earn a couple of bucks while keeping his ear to the ground. He learned the ways of Gotham's streets from its most experienced criminals. His father had taught him how to be a crime boss; but Cyprus Gold had to teach himself how to be a common crook. He sought out the best of the best, learned from them what he could and killed them off before they got the same idea. He started to work odd jobs for various bosses across the city. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do; kidnapping, murder, drug running, theft...Ask Gold to do it, and he would. Cyprus gained a reputation for his own brand of brutality, mimicking what his father had shown him. He brought fear to those who opposed him. But Cyprus also knew that he needed to gain the trust of his friends; something his dad hadn't done, which had led him to the grave. Gold created a network of gangsters and informants whom he could turn to for help or work.

He made a life for himself up in Amusement Mile. A hard life, but a good one. Cyprus met a nice girl named Katelyn while working a job out of Alibi. The two hit it off. Two years later, Cyprus would ask Katelyn to marry him. But the proposal went awry when Cyprus learned that of Katelyn's relations to Vincent Falcone. She was a spy for the mob boss; sent to find Cyprus and end him. Katelyn claimed that she'd cut all ties with Falcone, and that she really loved Cyprus. But Gold was furious. He hated Falcone for what he'd done to Gold's family. Cyprus, blinded by rage, dragged Katelyn miles out of Gotham and hung her outside Slaughter Swamp.

Took ill on Thursday

When Vincent learned what had become of Katelyn, one of his most trusted agents, he was furious. Falcone sent a crew of hitmen after Cyprus Gold. The trained killers attacked Cyprus at My Alibi, murdering a dozen people there while trying to get him. But Gold escaped, dropping two of the hitmen before he made his way out of Amusement Mile. He ran out of the city as fast as his legs could carry him. The Falcone family's hit squad grabbed their automobiles and pursued Cyprus, not wanting Gold to get away again.

They chased Cyprus all the way back to Slaughter Swamp, where the now-decaying body of Katelyn still hung on the Swamp's largest tree. Gold climbed the tree, hiding from his pursuers next to the corpse of his former lover. The hitmen searched the Swamp for Cyprus but couldn't find him.

So Gold decided to play a bit of a game with the murderers. He recited the poem of Solomon Grundy, traveling through the tree tops. He always stayed just out of their sight, infuriating them with his taunting. He killed off a pair of the hitmen before they caught on to Cyprus. Falcone's men shot Cyprus from the trees, knocking the mobster into the murky waters of the swamp. Just to make sure Cyprus Gold was dead, the men poured canisters of hazardous materials they found nearby into the swamp. The hit squad returned to Gotham, confident in their victory over Cyprus Gold.

Grew worse on Friday

But the swamp had other ideas. The hitmen hadn't known, but Slaughter Swamp was home to the dark magical force known as the Gray. The Gray saw the dead mobster and had pity on him. It took the man's fallen corpse, imbuing it with the power of the Gray. Cyprus Gold's body was then remade from bark, muck and chemicals, held together by the magic of the swamp and given life by the Gray. A giant, bleach white-skinned monster made from mush and death crawled out of Slaughter Swamp fifty years after the death of Cyprus Gold. The creature had no memories; his mind was completely blank, all except for a single rhyme...He didn't know the meaning of it. At the time, the zombie thought the story was about him; it thought its name was Solomon Grundy. He'd been born on a Monday, after all. Solomon Grundy shuffled out of Slaughter Swamp and made his way towards the distant lights of Gotham City. The behemoth stomped through the streets of Gotham, repeating the rhyme as he did. People panicked, running and screaming in all directions. The Gotham City Police were called not long after Grundy's arrival. In the confusion, Solomon attempted to escape the police, causing them to fire on Grundy. The massive zombie retaliated, now angry, killing the police officers. The beastly construct tried to escape and hid in a nearby cemetery.

It wasn't long before Batman arrived on the scene. The Dark Knight attacked Solomon Grundy. The monster tried to fight back, but found himself terrified by the giant bat monster. Batman used the creature's simple mind to his advantage, defeating Solomon through trickery and deceit. Solomon was then transported to Belle Reve, where he would spend the next few years in captivity. Grundy knew very little about anything, and had to learn what he could while inside the prison. Luckily for Solomon Grundy, he caught the attention of the Calculator. The genius criminal mastermind gave Grundy a basic education in exchange for protection from his enemies.

Died on Saturday

Solomon Grundy's life changed once more when the Legion of Doom attacked Belle Reve. They freed the prisoners within, setting loose the most dangerous metahumans on earth. Grundy went on a rampage, attacking the cities of Gotham, Metropolis and Bludhaven in a fit of rage. He was angry at his imprisonment and the people working for the Legion of Doom had freed the monster. They had told Grundy that they were friends, and that the nasty Justice League were his enemies. So Solomon fought the caped heroes until he had his heart ripped from his chest by a bloodlusted hero. The Legion of Doom's all out assault on the superhero community proved a failure and Grundy was once more dead. But the Gray was not yet finished with Solomon. The zombie soon found himself reanimated in Slaughter Swamp, his memories of his previous life as Grundy intact. Knowing now that he couldn't die, Solomon set out to reunite himself with the Legion of Doom and help them in their mission to take over the world. He didn't have much else to do with his time anyway, being a zombie and all. Besides, his friends were nice to him, and Grundy wanted to make it up to them.

So Solomon Grundy teamed up with other super villains whenever they needed some extra mystical muscle. He traveled across the United States, robbing banks and destroying nuclear power plants and stealing crates of kryptonite. He did whatever he was asked. Grundy lived the life of a free spirit; he worked where he wanted. Did what he wanted. Helped who he wanted. He enjoyed the life of an immortal criminal zombie monster. It was rather freeing not to have to worry about anything. After all, he could just come back. So what was the point of being afraid?

Buried on Sunday

The world would never be the same. Superman was dead, killed at the hands of the monster known as Doomsday. Solomon Grundy hadn't been in Metropolis when the monster first appeared, but he and a group of other villains made their way there when they heard the news: the Justice League were losing a fight! Whoever this guy was, he singlehandedly walked through the Justice League International and turned the rest of the main Justice League to paste. But when Solomon Grundy got to Metropolis, he didn't like what he saw. None of them did. Bodies were strewn throughout the rubble-filled streets. Skyscrapers burned. Buildings collapsed. Blood curdling screams echoed past the destruction. Grundy had only wanted to see those heroes get what they deserved. But he'd never seen so much...death. It was disconcerting, even for a former killer turned zombified corpse. Solomon Grundy and the other supervillains decided to intervene when Big Blue died. They helped survivors escape collapsing buildings. Solomon cleaned up streets so that emergency vehicles could get in to help the injured. He and the other villains were given temporary pardons by the Metropolis Police for their efforts.

It was all so surreal. What would happen now? The Man of Steel was dead; he died protecting the world from an unstoppable killing machine. Grundy knew that he should be happy the hero was gone. But all he felt was emptiness. There was no joy in the slaughter. Only apathy. Maybe even a little hint of sadness. The world would never be the same without Superman.

| Attributes |
Super Strength: Solomon Grundy is one of the strongest villains on earth. He can go toe-to-toe with any member of the Justice League, and they most certainly feel his punches. He can lift enormous weights with little strain.

Invincibility: The zombified body of Cyprus Gold is extremely durable. He can tank extreme damage without injury. When injury does occur, Solomon Grundy's supernatural healing factor allows him to absorb life force to restore his body to its fullest power.

Life absorption: The Gray gifted Solomon Grundy with the ability to suck the life energies out of anything that lives and breathes. This includes humans, animals, aliens and plants. Certain objects are harder to drain, such as living creatures, and require more time and effort to absorb into himself. Solomon tends to avoid 'eating' sapient beings, especially other people. He isn't fond of murder.

Reanimation: Whenever Solomon Grundy is killed, he is brought back to life in Slaughter Swamp. This is due to the curse of the Gray making him effectively immortal. His previous body turns to nothing but wood and swamp pulp when his new body reforms back in Gotham.

| Character Notes |
N/A for now

| Character Goals |
I was introduced to Solomon Grundy during the Justice League cartoon, and fell in love with the character since then. He's such an odd character. His origins are extremely dark, and he's surrounded by pure evil, yet he manages to be fun and light hearted at the same time (at least sometimes.) I've never really liked it when Grundy was little more than a mindless zombie. So I want to write Solomon with a bit more emotion and humanity; I want to show his good side. I want to look into the psyche of a giant, memory-less zombie and explore what he thinks of this world that he finds himself in. Things are cut and dry for him. Black and white. Good guys fight bad guys, the good guys win, and the bad guys get away to plan their next big job. But things have become different. Become...gray. Villains aren't supposed to win; they aren't supposed to kill their heroes. That's the line of thought that I want to chase down with Grundy.

| Sample Post |
Grundy's heart hurt.

His arm hurt too. And his ribs. In fact, Solomon Grundy's entire body racked with the most intense pain he'd felt in his entire life. He shifted his weight a little, trying to get his barrings. Rock and rubble tumbled over his chest as he moved. Grundy blinked, blinded by the light. He reached a hand up to rub the dirt and dust off his face. Hmm. That was odd. Solomon could only move his left arm. He couldn't feel his right. The zombie glanced to the right and was surprised to find his arm was missing. There wasn't any blood; but swamp water dripped from the hole in his torso. Solomon used his one hand to free his trapped legs and stood to his feet. Grundy knocked down a brick wall, smashing it out of his way as he stepped into the street. He was in Metropolis. The golden city of the future, home to the iconic Superman. But Metropolis was different today.

Metropolis' heart hurt too.

So did its body. Grundy could see all the vast destruction that Doomsday person had caused when he attacked the city. There wasn't a building in sight that hadn't bee scarred in some capacity by the violence. The big, gray...thing...had knocked down multiple skyscrapers and turned entire blocks into piles of brick and mortar. Fire engulfed structure after structure and smoke blocked out the sun. Solomon made his way down the street, littered with bodies and the wounded. Cars sat bumper to bumper, most of the doors open being evidence that people had tried to escape the fighting on foot. The few vehicles with unopened doors were either flattened or filled with corpses. Grundy glanced inside a nearby van, his eyes catching sight of a pair of tiny skeletons in the back. They were burned black by something incredibly hot. Another pair of skeletons sat in the front, clutching each other in their bony hands. They had died holding each other. How romantic, Grundy thought.

The big, ugly zombie marched further down the street. He headed towards the center of the violent storm of complete destruction. That's where Superman and Doomsday had been seen last. Grundy pushed his way past the apocalyptic-like ruination, knocking over a fallen apartment building. Solomon had to lift up an overpass on his way downtown. He tossed the annihilated bridge of his way, careful not to cause much more damage than had already been done. Grundy's march was interrupted by the cries of a terrified voice. The voice of a small child. Solomon picked up the pace, running towards the sound. He found a little girl, clutching her unconscious father closer. They were wedged between a concrete pillar and a massive school bus, the latter of which threatened to crunch and collapse on top of them. Grundy shoved his powerful fingers into the metal of the bus, tossing it behind him without much effort. He picked up the man and the girl, placing her on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Grundy will take you to doctor men." He informed her. The girl appeared nearly as scared of Solomon as she had been of being crushed to death; but his words offered her a small bit of comfort.

After Grundy dropped the girl off at the nearest aid station, he continued on his trek towards the center of town. He'd try not to stop much this time. Of course, the injured and in-danger couldn't help it that they were in need of his assistance. Grundy couldn't hold it against them. Solomon responded to everything cry for help he heard. He saved a trio of teenagers from a burning building. Grundy rescued a dozen people from a falling bridge. He even helped a dog dig out his owner, who was trapped underneath his car. Solomon didn't like seeing people hurt. He remembered killing people, sure. But he never much liked it. It was usually an accident. Besides, today was...different. There was something in the air. Something wrong. He heard it all the time. People were wailing in the streets. Others gathered into circles, listening to reverends, priests and pastors offer words of condolence and peace. Leaders tried to rally the able to help with searches. But there was so much crying. Everyone seemed to be crying.

Metropolis' heart hurt like Grundy's.

It didn't take much longer for Solomon Grundy to reach the crater in the very center of Metropolis. It was surrounded by super heroes. People in capes and tights. Heroes. Nobody was talking, though. The few that were whispered very quietly. Some stood in silence. Others sobbed. Grundy didn't know what to do, so he decided to get closer. Nobody stopped him. Grundy got a few hateful looks, but they didn't fight him. Today was not a day for fighting. The fighting had stopped earlier. Grundy touched the area where his missing arm had been. He had tried to help Superman; Superman was Grundy's friend. Well. Not really friend. But Superman was nice to Grundy. So Solomon wanted to be nice to Superman. But Doomsday was strong; stronger than Grundy. It tore off Grundy's arm and tossed him across the city.

Grundy looked to the center of the crater, where a pair of familiar figures stood. One, clad in all black, and the other, dressed in colorful armor. Grundy knew them. Everyone knew them. They were Superman's friends. And Superman was gone now. He couldn't come back like Grundy could. He wouldn't come back. Superman's friends knew that. Grundy looked on, and he knew what was going on.

Their hearts hurt.

Just like Grundy's.