[CHAR] VIGILANCE: Sanctuary

[Lord Wraith]

^{P L E A S E D O N O T P O S T H E R E U N L E S S A C C E P T E D}

| GM: Lord Wraith | Genre: Superhuman, Modern Fantasy | Type: Linear, Sandbox |

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ACCEPTED PLAYERS:

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■ Lord Wraith^|| as... Ezekiel Thoreau

■ Tyler^|| as... Emory Fairchild

■ Nemaisare^|| as... Lucas Bray

■ GreenGrenade^| as... Gareth Corrigan

■ Hillan^|| as... Marcus Weston

■ Stein^|| as... Ilani Jackson

■ Atrophy^|||| as... Grace Kennison

■ Heathen^| as... Janelle Hambrick

■ Bigg Slamm^| as... Anthony Sweetwater

■ Wade Wilson^||| as... Joshua Kain

■ Roman^| as... Elizabeth Cane

■ Blandman^| as... Nicholas Turner

~MORE SLOTS TO BE ADDED IF NEEDED~

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RULES AND REGULATIONS:

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1. In Character Rules

1. IN CHARACTER RULES:

[1.01]You are your character, so act like them. Create or portray their mannerisms, powers, and ideals to how they have been established in the game. BE the character, not just yourself with the character's powers. The notes section of your CS has been provided for such a reason, use it to help yourself remain consistent in character portrayals.

[1.02] Writing expectations for this roleplay are at least a two (2) paragraph minimum per post. Three (3) to five (5) paragraph posts however would be awesome so long as you're not simply chewing the scenery. Proper spelling and grammar is also expected but small mistakes here and there are understandable. Blatant offenses will be called out.

[1.03] You are encouraged to post at least once per week. If there are any outside factors as to why you aren't able to post, please let the GMs know. If you find yourself in a plot with another player and they disappear, do your best to move on without them and quickly finish the arc to the best of your ability, or ask for the help of a GM. If you stop posting for two (2) weeks without a message in the OOC, your character will be listed as 'inactive', and after a further week of inactivity, your characters will be expelled, and dealt with as necessary in the IC, whether killed or used as needed and then discarded. Please if you know you’re going to be absent or simply have lost interest in the RP, just let the GM know.

[1.04] No God-Modding or metagaming. This refers to controlling or manipulating another player's character in way that is completely self-beneficial and not pre-approved by the other player. This also includes being untouchable against NPC characters as well as being all knowing. Keep your character humanized or risk being expelled from the RP.

[1.05] PC's are not to be killed without permission. Nameless NPC's are fine, but PC's or important NPC's will require authorization by their creator.

[1.06] This is a Character Driven RP, and as such you are encouraged and expected to take charge of your character's sub-plots and storylines. That said, there will be a heavy emphasis on collaborative activities and team building as well. The GMs will be leading the RP in the traditional sense with a driving plot and will ensure the RP keeps moving however we do want to see you develop your characters and produce your own plots. However we don't want to see you lock your character out of interaction and focus solely on your character and their 'world'. No one enjoys watching you play with yourself, it's always better to let someone else join in on the fun.

[1.07] Absolutely no 'OOC' chatter in the In Character Thread. If you have a question or anything to explain there is an Out Of Character Thread provided. You have no excuse to make an 'OOC' comment in the IC and if done it will be heavily frowned upon.

[1.08] Plots should not be completed in one or two posts. Your character should not be able to stop an entire robbery by themselves or put out a city block on fire with relative ease. That said obviously different power levels do apply so if you do manage to put out the fire, solve the cause of it. If you stop the robbery find out who hired the gang or what their motives were. If all else fails do some character development or show us some ‘Slice of Life’ moments for you character if you do solve a plot quickly.

2. Out Of Character Rules:

2. OUT OF CHARACTER RULES:

[2.01] Respect the Game Masters. The GM's words are to be adhered, don't argue or disregard them unnecessarily. If a GM asks you to stop doing something please do it. Likewise if a GM asks you to change something in your post please do it. Failure to adhere to any GM or Moderator requests will result in expulsion from the game.

[2.02] Respect the other players. Constructive criticism is fine, but flaming or trying to run players off just because you don't like the way they do things is not okay. Remember, it's the GM's job, not yours, to point out if there's a problem. If you feel that there is a problem, then contact a GM directly.

[2.03] Likewise any quarrels will be dealt with by the GMs. Don't take them out in the OOC, arguments should be dealt with between the two parties through private messaging. If the involved parties truly can't solve their issues a GM can act as an arbiter upon request.

[2.04] No GIF Wars. This is a thread for discussion of the roleplay, its characters and plots. This is not a Spam Thread. Chat is allowed and encouraged but within reason, please try not to fill the OOC with numerous pages that have little to nothing to do with the roleplay itself. An active OOC generally means an active roleplay so feel free to chat up your fellow players about characters and events in the RP.

3. Character Creation Rules:

3. CHARACTER CREATION RULES:

[3.01] You can create any superhuman mold you want with tact. All invincible superhumans or obvious imitations of DC or Marvel titles will be judged harshly. If you must make a 'monstrous' character/power, I advise you to make your character dual sided so they may blend with the regular people. Your abilities should also be a secret to anyone outside of the character’s circle of trust, remember people are afraid of what they don't understand and superpowers are a new concept to the world. People will not be willing to accept them very quickly.

[3.02] In line with above rule, do not make your character well rounded, give them weaknesses and flaws. Limitations in their skills and abilities, reasons to make them need a team to support them. Additionally, give your character room to grow and develop. It's always fun to have a new power show up down the line, just give the GM a heads up first so it doesn't look like you're godmodding.

[3.03] Character sheets will not be accepted until the GMs have had time to look over the CS thoroughly. This not only ensures that we the GMs have time to read through Character Sheets appropriately but also that you the Player are receiving proper critique as well as a solid community to interact with in the In Character Threads. We appreciate your patience with this. Character sheets will also not be accepted based on a first come basis, but rather on who the GM feels will be best for the RP. That said, there will be a window for applicants, after this window, character acceptance will be closed until such a time as the RP requires new players.

[3.04] All Character Sheets must be submitted to the GMs in the provided or similarly laid out format. Character Sheets which do not use an organized skeleton will be rejected and asked to comply with a standard. Displays of impatience towards acceptance will result in an immediate denial. The GMs have lives outside of RPG and may have their time restricted during the week and/or weekend. Have patience and a positive attitude and you will receive a response.

[3.05] Character Sheets are to be posted in the OOC Thread for review and once accepted posted in the Character Thread. At the end of your sheet, please write your (not your character's) favourite pizza topping. Failure to comply with these rules will delay your acceptance as you obviously did not read through the rules and therefore can not be trusted to adhere to those laid out for the OOC and IC threads. Additionally, do not announce this rule or hint towards it within the OOC. If someone can't read the rules for themselves, they likely can't read the IC and we don't want their kind here.

[3.06] Forbidden abilities include the following: Blood Manipulation, Darkness Manipulation, and Time Manipulation. Additionally all the basic element (Fire, Water, Air, Plant, and Earth) manipulation are banned for Hyperhuman players. In the VIGILANCE Universe these abilities belong to the mysterious Magni, not Hyperhumans. Lastly while flight is a perfectly acceptable power, it will not be permitted through the use of telekinesis under the principle of 'You can't lift yourself by your own bootstraps.'

[3.07] Failure to adhere to any of the character creation rules will lead to rejection of the application with a citation of the broken rule(s). Permission to re-apply will be given on a case by case basis depending on the rule(s) broken and the quality of the application. Critique will be given on Character Sheets which don't break any rules but aren't quite up to an acceptable standard. Please be willing to work with the GM in the event of this.

Sexual Conduct:

SEXUAL CONDUCT:

This is an open world RP and I realize that relationships are a part of this. While I have no problem with this I do want it kept a specific way to avoid breaking any rules. As part of RPG's rule, mature content is forbidden on the forums. You may however use the standard fade-to-black technique if you desire and that will be fine, just keep it PG-13/14A (May contain: violence, coarse language and/or sexually suggestive scenes.) both leading and following up. I implore you to keep within the age restrictions set up already by administration. As such, let’s keep it simple, ages 14-17 can have relationships with each other and likewise for 18-22. Obviously there's some grey area in there and I'd understand 16-18 should also be a range but please just use your common sense if you're going to seek a relationship within the RP. You have been warned of my expectations on this matter and should you fail to follow through you will be asked to leave the roleplay and reported for breaking site rules.

Commitment And Consistency:

COMMITMENT AND CONSISTENCY:

If you join this RP, if you take the time to submit an application, I'm putting my faith in you that you'll be committed to it and that the character you play will be consistent with the one in the agreed upon CS. Personally, I have a hard time with this sometimes and I understand that things just happen. That said I’m referring to suddenly giving a character new powers with no explanation or completely changing their backstory in order to add new skills. I’m okay with changes but I’d like a heads-up first so perhaps we can work a more natural way towards these things happening. In terms of commitment, dropping out of the RP randomly for whatever reason is a pain or a GM. Simply put, it wastes my time along with the other players. If you do not think you can join and you're sure something will come up, do not join. Tendency to not care about an RP after a while? Don't join. Simple as that. I will work with you when it comes to bumps in the road. If you think you're going to be out for a couple of days, that's fine. I'll find a way to excuse you from the story or play your character. However, please let the group known as far in advance as possible. If you're going on a trip, tell me something. Do not leave me wondering where you are. Let me know so I can keep things going. I will work around you if you work with me when you can.

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CHARACTER APPLICATION:

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[CENTER][IMG]A faceclaim for your character, please use photographs or photo-realistic images. No anime or cartoons.[/IMG][/CENTER]
[B]| NAME(S): |[/B]
[INDENT]Your full name as written on your birth certificate or driver's license.​[/INDENT]
[B]| NICKNAME(S): |[/B]
[INDENT]Any names your parents, relatives or friends call you. This can also be a 'superhero’ codename. If you don’t have one, you can always gain on in the IC.​[/INDENT]
[B]| D.O.B.: |[/B]
[INDENT]Month/Day/Year[/INDENT]
[B]| AGE: |[/B]
[INDENT]No younger than 14, no real age limit but if you’re over 50 in earth years you’re not going to be limber enough to be running on roof tops likely (obvious exceptions aside.)​[/INDENT]
[B]| SEX: |[/B]
[INDENT]Preferably your biological gender, if you prefer not go by a gender specific pronoun please note that in your Biography or Notes. Please do not answer 'yes'.​[/INDENT]
[B]| SEXUALITY: |[/B]
[INDENT]*Optional, if you'd wish to note it you may. If you have no interest in having it known or any other reason there's not need to put.[/INDENT]
[B]| APPEARANCE: |[/B]
[INDENT]A written description detailing height, weight, hair colour, eye colour and any other notable attributes. A picture doesn’t qualify here as you already have the headshot above.​[/INDENT]
[B]| GENUS: |[/B]
[INDENT]​This is what race your character belongs to. Are they a human, Hyperhuman, Magni etc?[/INDENT]
[B]| CLASSIFICATION: |[/B]
[INDENT]Your Hyperhuman/Magni/etc Classification. If you're having trouble let me know and I can tell you which category you likely belong under. If you're playing a normal human, simply put 'N/A' or delete this part of the CS.​ Note that normal humans can skip directly from this point to the 'SKILLS' section as you won't have any abilities. Note that for Hyperhumans especially you must belong to ONE Classificaton. There's no cross or mixed classifications.[/INDENT]
[B]| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |[/B]
[INDENT]Please indicate your desired abilities as well as a clear set of limitations (IE, how much can a character lift) and weaknesses (An electrokinetic might short out standing in water.). Your ability can be described in as many or as few words as you wish but the limitations and weaknesses are non-negotiable. This is also the place to indicate any notable skills your character may have outside of their abilities.[/INDENT]
[B]| BACKSTORY: |[/B]
[INDENT]This is your history from the time you were born until the start of the RP. If you want to keep certain details vague so as to reveal them in the IC, skim over them for the time being or be subtle about them. But please avoid too many clichés, we're all familiar with the orphan who swears to fight for justice because of the death of his parents.[/INDENT]
[B]| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |[/B]
[INDENT]What is driving your character? What makes them tick? Why do they act the way they do.[/INDENT]
[B]| REFERENCE POST(S): |[/B]
[INDENT]This is to make sure your writing style will mesh with the RP at a level and consistently that the GM desires. Link 1-3 posts of your writing in other RPs.[/INDENT]
[B]| NOTES: |[/B]
[INDENT]*Optional, any additional notes you wanted to add that weren't covered by the above sections. This can be either kept for yourself or submitted for everyone to see. This would also be the place to include any NPCs you intend on using or any reference points you wish to make for yourself or other players to read.[/INDENT]

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PLAYER PLOT SUBMISSIONS:

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^{This form is for submitting Sub-Plots which can take place in any of the listed 'Notable Locations'. These Sub-Plots can be used to share your ideas or flesh out your character while still allowing other players to get involved.}

[B]| PLAYER NAME: |[/B] 
[INDENT]Your Name[/INDENT]
[B]| PLOT NAME: |[/B]
[INDENT]I use song titles, you don’t have to stick with that though[/INDENT]
[B]| PLOT LOCATION: |[/B]
[INDENT]Which location will this plot be happening in?[/INDENT]
[B]| PLOT SYNOPSIS: |[/B]
[INDENT]The summary of the plot that will appear under the Secondary Plot Section[/INDENT]
[B]| DETAILED PLOT: |[/B]
[INDENT]This is a more detailed outlining of your plot so I can understand exactly what your intent is, what enemies are involved and what the overall goals are.[/INDENT]
[B]| DESIRED NUMBER OF PLAYERS: |[/B]
[INDENT]How many players do you want or need for this plot to work?[/INDENT]

[Lord Wraith]

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| NAME(S): |

Ezekiel William Thoreau

| NICKNAME(S): |

Zeke,
Zee / Big Zee,
Zekey(When he was younger he was often referred to as 'Zekey', an unfortunate nickname which some of his family still refer to him as.)

| D.O.B.: |

05/18/1990

| AGE: |

25​

| SEX: |

Male​

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Zeke is a fairly in shape young man standing roughly 5'-10" and at a weight of roughly 168lbs. He has kind seafoam green eyes which hide his brutal nature and make him seem far more trustworthy than he ought to be. Usually found unshaven, though with a trimmed five o'clock shadow, he hasn't yet managed to grow a full beard out though not for lack of trying. Generally he spikes up his hair at the front in different varieties of the quiff, ducktail and ski slope styles though Zeke isn't above putting his hair in a faux hawk. This is all of course saying he doesn't don a hat for the day.

He wears the usual clothes of someone his age, jeans, tees, hoodies. Whenever Zeke needs to conceal his identity, he has a ball cap he pulls onto his head, dipping the beak down to shield his face while raising up the hood on his sweater or jacket. Occasionally, Zeke will pull a scarf or bandanna above the lower half of his face to further ensure his identity remains hidden.

~See above picture for visual reference.~​​

| GENUS: |

​Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Mars

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

//ABILITIES:

Zeke's body is basically a living lightning bolt, his body producing over 30,000 Amperes which he can expel at a maximum force of 100 Million Volts. Due to this, Zeke's body is constantly generating raw electricity which courses through his body. From his training at P.R.C.U., Zeke has learned to manipulate, control and to sense sources of electrical and electromagnetic energy including objects that can be affected by it such as underground water pipes. He can also absorb the energy of electrical equipment such as a power plant to increase his powers further or quickly recharge himself if he's low on power. Zeke can also charge devices with his electricity if necessary or beneficial to his allies.

He can channel this energy through his hands or other extremities and project it as a super-heated discharge as lightning or even plasma. Although the speed and voltage of Zeke's electric discharges have never been measured, it can be assumed that their affects are similar to that of a natural bolt of lightning. A bolt of lightning can travel at a speed of 100,000 mph (160934 km/h), and can reach temperatures approaching 28,000 °C (60,000 °F), hot enough to fuse soil or sand into glass channels.

Using his ability offensively, Zeke has the ability to project his electricity to stun his enemies. Zeke can further increase his electrical projections by simply ionizing the hydrogen atoms in the atmosphere so in effect creating ultra-high level static discharges and having the potential to create electrical storms. As an application of his abilities, Zeke can also generate an electromagnetic fields. The most basic application of these electromagnetic fields is what Zeke refers to as 'Static Cling'. Zeke can adhere most objects or people to surfaces and other objects in addition to being able to magnetic surfaces especially those made of conductive alloys. The next application of these electromagnetic fields allows Zeke to also create barriers and shields that he can use to block, repel, hold back attacks and defend himself in battle. Magnetizing the surface beneath his feet and his own feet with a repelling force, Zeke can 'skate' along a surface at an accelerated speed. Likewise, Zeke can manipulate electromagnetic fields to cause objects to fly in almost a very clumsy form of telekinesis. He can also fire bursts of electromagnetic energy from his hands for uses like electrifying objects, administering large scale "Static Clings", generating shields and barriers. These barriers are made of a highly concentrated electromagnetic force that are powerful enough to deflect small projectiles and take a very high levels of impact such as physical attacks from Hyperhumans. Lastly, these barriers are resistant to most energy attacks.

Zeke is able to surround his body in electricity becoming a living lightning bolt that can travel through the air. While surrounded he can maintain flight for a short time or use it to hurl himself towards the ground like Zeus' Thunderbolt in order to make a grand entrance or cause quite a bit of damage. He uses magnetic fields while doing this to shield himself from most harm.

//LIMITATIONS:

While Zeke's body produces 30,000 amperes of electricity, he can exhaust it requiring him to need an immediate recharge or be forced to wait for his body to catch up. It takes nearly a day for Zeke to recharge naturally if he's pushed to the point of exhaustion. This is slowed if Zeke is unable to keep up a healthy food intake or get a proper amount of rest. It should be noted that using his ability to fly is among his most draining abilities often keeping Zeke grounded unless there's a storm in effect. Zeke's body requires a very high level of electrolytes in order to keep his abilities running at top proficiency, as such he's rarely seen without a bottle of Gatorade in his hand. Additionally Zeke consumes a lot of salt in order to boost his abilities and a lack of it will cause his power levels to diminish.

It should be noted that in order for Zeke to actually fly it requires several pre-existing factors. Within a city, it's rather each for Zeke to obtain altitude by creating repelling forces off of conducting surfaces such a sky scrapers and other buildings. However, if he's not near conductive surfaces, Zeke is entirely dependent on the static discharge in the air. While he can stimulate it himself, for it to pay out he needs to spend enough of his own reserves in order to create an electrical storm in order to recharge himself enough to sustain flight. That said, because of the speed Zeke moves at while in flight he often will outrun his storm in a matter of seconds forcing him to either land or find another recharge while in the air. For this reason, Zeke's flight acts more like a 'teleport' forcing him to go from one point to the next without anything in between. Simply put, Zeke can not simply fly around and hurl electricity at his foes in combat.

While metal is among Zeke's greatest ally in a fight due to its conductive nature, if he were imprisoned in a metal cage, his lightning would likely be turned back on him. While this wouldn't necessarily harm Zeke, it certainly would not aid him either. Due to his traumatic entry into the world of Hyperhumans, Zeke has trouble using his abilities in large open areas where innocents and bystanders could get hurt and only does so as a last resort.

//WEAKNESSES:

Zeke's primary weaknesses are insulators, as his powers have little or no effect on them. Rubber is by far his worse bane, causing his powers to rendered useless if he were to be forced into wearing it on his feet and hands. Wood seems to be the one he has the most difficulty with, as it cannot be electromagnetically manipulated, levitated, or damaged. While water is a conductor, Zeke cannot be emerged in it without shorting out unless the water is de-ionized in which case it has no effect on Zeke since it doesn't conduct.

Zeke's powers can also be used against him and redirected by other Hypes with similar abilities. Likewise other MARS-Type and MERCURY-Types Hypes can slow Zeke's electrons causing his electricity to simple cease and stop.

| BACKSTORY: |

A drifter due more to circumstance than by nature, Ezekiel William Thoreau was born hundreds of miles from the land he would come to call home. His parents had originally grown up, met and fallen in love in the countryside of Wales before settling down in city of Cardiff. It was here, in the land of Cymry that Ezekiel was born to proud father, Nigel, and loving mother, Beth. Zeke spent most of his early childhood in Cardiff living a rather uninteresting life void of accomplishment or even notoriety. Shortly before his tenth birthday however, Zeke's suddenly changed as he found his room packed up and himself loaded onto a plane. Flying across the Atlantic, the couple landed in the country of Canada where Zeke soon found that his father had taken a rather well paying job.

Employed by the government of Alberta as a Senior Structural Engineer, Nigel began to bring home quite the income, much more than either he or Beth had ever dreamed of either of them making. Relief flooded over the parents as Nigel was able to ensure that his family had everything they needed to adjust to the move. As Zeke continued to grow older, Beth was able to focus on her career, starting a small catering business.

The move to Calgary had also ensured that Zeke had everything he could ever need or want at his fingertips. One of Canada's largest cities, Calgary provided all sorts of services, occasions, shopping and some of the finest schools in the province. However despite all the joy the move had brought the family, Zeke became plagued by health issues shortly after the move and spent most of the next four years in Alberta's Children Hospital. Born with a weak immune system, Zeke's body struggled with acclimatizing after the move and seemed to pick up every bug he came in contact with. As a result, his parents kept him at home whenever they could to reduce his risk to exposure. As a result of this, Zeke was home-schooled for much of his elementary school career and kept away from most public events.

At the age of fourteen, Zeke was reintroduced into the public education system. Eager to make friends, Zeke found out all too quickly how mean teenagers can be as he was mocked relentlessly for his name, mannerisms, dress and just about anything else the other teens found to be unusual about Zeke. Originally Zeke struggled to keep up in school, especially as he went through puberty and discovered he apparently had a bad touch for technology. By the time Zeke was sixteen he would swear that he could kill any machine with one touch. No matter where he sat in computer labs, he always seemed to short out the machine he was working on. In fact the school itself began to experience a record number of power fluctuations and outages throughout the four years Zeke attended class. Despite his difficulties with technology, Zeke would go on to prove himself a talented athlete, excelling at various events but in particular track and field. This however failed to make an impact on his social status as rumors of Zeke being a freak swirled around the school each and every day.

Forced to live out each day as a social outcast, Zeke led a very lonely high school career. While this never truly changed, by the time of his senior year Zeke had made enough acquaintances to earn an invitation to the senior graduation party and against his better judgement, Zeke decided to attend. Arriving what he believed to be fashionable late was Zeke's first mistake as several of the local jocks had already prepared their cruel fairwell to Zeke. Having not been swimming in the last eight years, and having no idea of his developed abilities, Zeke was completely unprepared for an impromptu trip into the pool as the football team heaved him into the water. A brilliant flash of light accompanied his impact with the surface as Zeke's body was shorted out, the years of stored current instantly electrocuting anyone in or near the pool as Zeke surfaced gasping for air only to find the majority of the graduating class now dead.

And so Zeke ran. Panicking, he had no idea of what to do, no grasp on what had happened other than the numerous dead eyes solely squared on him as the survivors screamed. Zeke became a wanted man, his running made it look intentional and there was no doubt in his mind that those who had managed to avoid the accident had pegged the blame squarely on him. But Zeke had lived a rather cushioned life, he was not cut out for life on the run as he very quickly found out. With no money and no skills to survive, Zeke was quickly apprehended for stealing. But as luck would have it, Zeke's custody was turned over from the police to an older blind woman. Much to his surprise she knew about the accident and knew more about Zeke than perhaps even he knew as she explained where the lightning had come from. She even explained to Zeke how she had contacted his parents and explained everything to them, adding that in time they would visit him.

It was on this day that Zeke officially became a student at the Pacific Royal Collegiate and University. The woman, Serena Ravencroft was a recruiter for the school, a Hyperhuman like Zeke with the gift of foresight and a sense for finding young Hyperhumans as they underwent the drastic changes the Hype-Gene brought to their bodies. Introducing Zeke to the school's chancellor, Jonas Lehrer, Zeke was enrolled and assigned to a dormitory. The school was unlike anything Zeke could ever had imagined although it took him quite some time to adjust to the military like regime and dress code mandated by the school. Assigned to Team 42 Bravo, Zeke for the first time in his life was able to make close friends. For this reason, graduating from P.R.C.U. had to be one of the saddest days in Zeke's life. While he tried to keep in contact with his friends, it simply wasn't possible with his aversion to technology.

The year after his graduation brought the Kowalski attacks and once again Zeke's life was turned upside down. Having followed in his father's footsteps, Zeke had entered the engineering business but his aversion to AutoCAD and as an extension, computers raised suspicions in his coworkers. When Kowalski ripped the proverbial mask off of not only P.R.C.U. but Hyperhumans as a whole, they quickly turned on Zeke who was forced to leave. Over the past two years Zeke had been drifting from place to place trying to find somewhere to belong. However over the past few weeks, he's had the haunting feeling that someone or something has been following him causing the lone Hyperhuman to be constantly on edge.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Having been an outcast for most of his life, Zeke is seeking a community to which he can truly belong without having to hide part of who he is. While he had this at P.R.C.U., it was ruined by Kowalski forcing Hyperhumans into the world's focus. Journeying with the convoy will allow Zeke to find his place among a community of people like him and with his skills he's able to help keep them safe as they seek out a Sanctuary of their own.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

1. 'Fun On The Bleachers' - Mavericks: Valiant Heroics
2. 'Good Morning Winter!' - New Lilith: Shadows of Darkness
3. 'You Found My Weakness, It's Small Little Knives' - VIGILANCE: Memento Mori

| NOTES: |

■ Due in part to living in Wales until he was 10 and in part to being around his parents so much, Zeke speaks with a notable Welsh accent. Additionally he will occasionally fall into using local colloquialisms he assimilated from his parents.
■ Despite having some hands on experience with firearms, Zeke is a terrible shot and will allows rely on his powers above all else.
■ Due to living on the run for so long, Zeke has had to learn to steal. That however didn't stop his taste in vehicles having quite the affinity for stealing expensive motorcycles and cars.
■ Zeke is something of a skill pickpocket, primarily due to his ability to magnetize most wallets and pull them out without getting too suspicious close to his targets. That said, he generally only takes what he needs if he's forced to resort to pickpocketing. He prefers hijacking ATMs and giving 'The Man' the bird to ripping off civilians any day.
■ Zeke has a terrible time with electronics due to either short circuiting them or wiping them out with electromagnetic pulses. As such he does not carry a cellphone or any other portable device.
■ Zeke also can't use a compass and instead relies on 'Star Navigation', this has honed his natural sense of direction over the years.
■ While theoretically Zeke could take someone with him when he 'flies', it would be so draining that the situation would have to be awfully dire for him to consider it, let alone attempt it.
■ Due to his time at P.R.C.U. and their relation with H.E.L.P./H.I.T., Zeke has a dislike for vigilantes believing they give Hyperhumans a bad reputation and enforce Kowalski's beliefs.
■ Zeke has had several years of counselling post high school in order to cope with 'killing' his graduation class. Unfortunately after Kowalski, Zeke has become rather cynical in order to cope with the changing world.
■ Chicken, Pineapple, Bacon, Sausage, try it sometime.

[Tyler]

Emory Fairchild

| NAME: |

Emory Robert Fairchild

| NICKNAME(S): |

’Em’, Bobby

| D.O.B.: |

22nd December, 1994

| AGE: |

22

| SEX: |

Male

| SEXUALITY: |

Pansexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Emory's preferred appearance is his own, as he finds it the easiest to adopt and maintain. Though he's certainly tweaked himself a little over the years; he always has clear skin, something he usually struggled with, and he usually imitates a bleached look on his originally dark locks. He's made himself a couple inches taller than he was naturally, standing at about 6ft'2 most of the time, though naturally this varies. His eye colour in this form is usually piercing blue, though he was born with brown eyes. Most of this information can and does change and it's not unlikely for small details to be 'off' if Emory overlooks them.

| GENUS: |

Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: |

ORCUS

| ABILITIES: |

Amorphous Physiology
Emory has no distinct shape: his natural form is an amorphous slime-like substance. He is a brilliant shapeshifter, able to sculpt himself into the shape of anything he pleases: though it’s naturally easier for him to adapt a human form as it’s what he’s most familiar with, he can also pose as inanimate objects or animals. He can shift parts of his body into tools or weapons by changing their shape and hardening them to be as dense and as durable as steel. In his amorphous form, he is able to move around as a puddle, albeit very slowly, which allows him to squeeze through even the smallest of spaces, given enough time. His amorphous form is incredibly sticky, which allows him to effectively trap victims and even suffocate them. He doesn’t know it yet, but Emory is essentially immortal: he hasn’t aged biologically since his powers manifested, though he can still be killed. He must still sustain himself by absorbing nutrients, but he doesn’t need to breathe and is thus immune to suffocation. He is also largely invulnerable to most physical attacks, as his body instinctively reacts by briefly turning the targeted area into slime. However, he is still more than capable of being caught off-guard and non-physical attacks effect him as they would any other. Should part of him be wounded or even severed, Emory is able to generate new mass to replace what is lost.

Limitations & Weaknesses

LIMITATIONS:
Shapeshifting into human forms is relatively easy, and he is able to maintain these forms indefinitely – though he must be conscious to do so, and so he reverts to slime when sleeping. Only his appearance is affected: he can’t alter his voice. Shapeshifting into inanimate objects and animals is much harder as it requires much more thought in order to convincingly portray them. Animals are particularly tricky, and Emory often makes mistakes when taking on animal forms: from incorrect proportions to even adding or omitting distinctive features: he is limited by his own knowledge of the animals he wishes to impersonate. He also cannot move convincingly in these forms, as his brain simply isn’t programmed to operate four legs, or wings, etc, and so as soon as he tries the form tends to skew and warp. None of his inanimate forms are functional: he can make himself look like an incredibly realistic lamp, for example, but it wouldn’t actually be able to produce any light. Taking on the form of anything larger than himself requires him to generate additional mass; this takes time and can be rather slow process for particularly large forms. Similarly, to take on a smaller form, he must expend excess mass, leaving it in a pool where it is visible to anyone and may blow his cover. His slime form is also slow and lumbered; it moves like a snail (though not as slow), by first propelling part of itself forward and then dragging the remainder to join it. His regenerative abilities are similarly slow.

WEAKNESSES:
Emory is very weak against extreme temperatures: causing him to boil or freeze would completely incapacitate him, possibly with permanent consequences depending on the severity. His slime form is conductive, and if he comes into contact with electricity his powers are effectively neutralised for the duration of the shock. Fortunately, his slime form has quite a high boiling point: but the risk is still there, particularly against fire-type Hypes. Whilst he’s incapable of being ‘dried out’, exposure to water in his amorphous form is potentially fatal, as it would dilute his very essence. There is a potential that Emory could be ‘restored’ scientifically by separating the water from the slime, though he would prefer that things didn’t get to a point where he had to find out. When Emory is unconscious, so is his amorphous form. This leaves him very vulnerable, as its easy to encase him in a vessel or expose him to harmful substances. Imprisonment is a particularly threatening idea to Emory, as his amorphous form allows him to be contained in vessels that he completely fills, giving him no room to transform back into human form. He could essentially be trapped indefinitely, relying on external aid to release him.

| BACKSTORY: |

The son of Fairchild Electronics CEO Robert Fairchild and his wife Veronica, Emory was the light at the end of a dark tunnel for his parents; after six years of fruitless efforts to conceive, Emory’s birth was something of a miracle. He was well-loved by his parents and, whilst he inevitably found himself in the care of nannies from time-to-time, his superficial parents made an effort to be around him as much as they could, much to the surprise of some of their critics. Surrounded by love and pleasantry in their lavish coastal mansion in Paradise on the Water, Emory Fairchild could not have asked for a more comfortable upbringing. But some years later, it would emerge that the love his parents had for him was not entirely unconditional.

As he grew older, some of Emory’s life choices had been somewhat disappointing to the Fairchilds. From the time devoted to his band Maharaja, to his partiality for smoking marijuana, at eighteen years of age long-haired Emory was not the perfect son they’d envisioned for their perfect family. He’d never made an effort to hide any elements of his life from them, either; he was naturally rebellious, bored of his pampered existence, he took quiet joy in showing his parents that he had little interest in the artificiality of their American dream.

They reluctantly supported him, as any parents would, and did their best to keep him on the straight and narrow. But all that changed when Emory’s Hype gene activated.

No longer dormant, the manifestation of Emory’s strange abilities shook the entire family, not least Emory himself. The general public was not aware of Hyperhumans at the time, and so when Vanessa checked on a sick Emory in bed to find the sheets covered in sticky black slime and her son nowhere in sight, she was horrified. Emory was sentient the entire time, unable to move or speak and not entirely sure what was happening.

A strange, blind woman arrived at the house, telling the Fairchilds all about the Hype gene and explaining that their son was one of them. She told them of a school, name the PRCU, that could help Emory to control his gifts and live a normal life. The parents reacted somewhat extremely, horrified that their child was a ‘freak’ – a ‘monster’. Knowing that Emory would likely die without her help, she wiped his parents memories and transported the now slime-based boy to the PRCU.

After rigorous testing and training, Emory soon managed to tame his powers, able to maintain his human form with relative ease, as well as learning to take on seemingly any other form he pleased with varying levels of realism. After a year at the school, it seemed everything was falling into place, and soon Emory would be able to return home to his parents and explain to them what had happened.

But he was still learning, and when Emory was attacked in a small town near the school, he wasn’t able to control himself enough in combat to avoid killing his aggressors. Now on the run for murder, the PRCU and his home back in Los Paraiso were off-limits.
He spent the next year or so flitting from city to city with crime as his main income, using his powers to get him out of trouble and escape imprisonment. As the existence of Hypes was revealed to the world, CCTV footage of his daring escapes went viral and made headlines across the world: “DANGER AMONG US”, “HYPER-HOUDINI STRIKES AGAIN”, “HE COULD BE ANYONE!”.

The media attention was enough to spook him into keeping a low profile, with his powers giving him the benefit of essentially being whoever he pleased. He eventually settled down in the city of Tyler, Texas, where he earned money fixing cars and dealing marijuana acquired through his powers. It was a tough life, and a far cry from where he’d been three years prior, but at 20 years old he wasn’t afraid to admit he enjoyed the simplicity of it in an odd way... For now.

But after two years of relative dormancy, Emory grew restless. He knew he couldn’t settle properly until he confronted his past and addressed what had happened on that faithful day; he had questions for his parents and he needed answers. Learning that his father was due to announce a ‘revolutionary’ new product to the market at a summit in Pointe Bordeaux, Emory began to make travel arrangements to the neighbouring state of Louisiana.

| MOTIVATION: |

Emory is motivated by the persistent voice in the back of his mind, constantly reminding him of the terms in which he left home. Having not seen his parents at all over the last five years, he has a lot of questions for the mother and father who had previously loved him so much. More than anything, he just wants to know how they're doing and perhaps rekindle some kind of relationship with his mother and father. But sometimes, ignorance is bliss...

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks: Raja infiltrates a school after hours in search of information. | Sep 26 2015
Before The Dawn: Avarielle becomes enraged when her integrity is challenged. | Nov 7 2015
The Corrigan School: Freddie displays a little too much theatricality in his Drama Studies class. | Nov 22 2015

| NOTES: |

Having no real metabolism but requiring a large amount of energy, Emory almost exclusively eats fast food in huge portions, since he doesn't run the risk of poor health or gaining weight. His favourite is deep pan pizza with extra cheese, bacon, chicken, mushrooms and peppers, with a stuffed crust. We have that in common.

Amorphous slime form visual reference

[Nemaisare]

| NAME(S): |

Lucas Emery Bray​

| NICKNAME(S): |

Luke (he prefers Lucas)​

| D.O.B.: |

05/05/1974

| AGE: |

41​

| SEX: |

Male​

| SEXUALITY: |

Asexual

| APPEARANCE: |

With brown hair, darker eyes, and tanned skin, Lucas is almost plain. He’s neither particularly handsome nor awkwardly disfigured, and he doesn’t get quite close enough to symmetrical to be nobody you need to notice. His nose, being slightly bulbous, is probably his most prominent feature. He has few scars, all faded and inconsequential. Scrapes on his knees, a little circle on the sole of his right foot, a bit of acne scarring… He has no piercings, and no tattoos, just a few wrinkles starting to show. His weight could be another recognisable feature, as he has a relatively heavy frame, and often seems shorter than his actual 5’9” height. In fact, he slouches a bit and has a tendency to take up far less space with his presence than seems physically possible. He often seems younger than his years, despite the greying beard and creases around his eyes, both in his overall appearance and his behaviour. His lack of any particular fashion sense probably doesn’t help; his wardrobe is an eclectic collection of dull solid colours and Hawaiian shirts and comfortable sweats and hoodies, jeans, and loose shorts. None in top condition.

His hair does lighten with a few highlights if he stays out in the sun long enough, not to mention greying a bit more every year. It grows straight without any curl, is generally dishevelled, and is only cut when it starts getting into his eyes. He’s got broad, mobile eyebrows and small close-set eyes under an overhanging brow. His chin is always covered by stubble of varying lengths. There’s a bit of red in that bristle, though it’s mostly a match for his hair, both the brown and the grey, and its length varies depending on how much it annoys him versus how much he’d really rather not put in the effort. His face rounded out as he grew up, as did the rest of him.

His natural expression is a relaxed frown and quiet air of inattention, contentment or concern, but it can shift just as easily into a bright smile, confused disbelief or an angry glare as most expressions. His hands are often fidgeting, usually with each other as that is the safest for him to touch, but sometimes they skitter over surfaces rather nervously before settling. Lucas has a loud, ragged voice, often as full of emotion as his expression. It is a low tenor, with a slight nasal quality if he raises it too far. He has a tendency to shift speeds as he talks, from pausing between every word to saying a few together all at once. ​

| GENUS: |

​Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Minerva

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Psychometry.

Power

Lucas can perceive the history of an object through proximity to it. This history can be anything from where it’s been and who or what interacted with it to how it moved and what its purpose was.

He doesn’t have to be touching the object for it to transmit whatever information it has to him, and he doesn’t choose whether or not it does, but the transmissions will remain uncontrolled until he does touch the object. Once in contact with it, he has more control over what information he receives, but it’s mostly just a method of making things clearer and easier to understand and focus on. To, in essence, make one voice or image stronger than the others to drown them out (with the same noticeable level of difference as between a crowded room and a single, clear note). With a good deal of concentration, he can siphon through the object’s memories, back and forth through time and even pick which sensory input he receives. Mostly, an object broadcasts the strongest moments of connection with it; whether this is through repetition of certain activities, like a pencil writing or a ball being tossed about, or a moment of strong emotion from whoever has possession of the object at the time, depends on the object and the moment.

Leaving populated areas for wilderness and leaving absolutely everything behind is about the only way for him to completely turn off his power, thankfully, he doesn’t have to go too far for it to work. And he’s learned the trick of holding something with unfamiliar memories to momentarily drown out the others to help him focus if he needs to .

Limitations

• He has a range of about 10’ with nearby objects, the smaller they are the closer he has to be to them, usually. But memories can bleed together through walls or connected objects and sometimes buildings, particularly large ones that see lots of activity, broadcast memories from up to 50’ away.
• In Lucas’ case, object means any inanimate thing that has been shaped by humans. A glacial boulder will give him nothing, a menhir might offer a few vague memories of the past, but a stone wall will let him know the most. Most foods don’t count, but particularly processed foods(like cheezwhiz or margarine) or combined foods(like baked goods) will sometimes have vague memories starting from towards the end of the making process.
• He can’t get a read off electronics as to what they were doing, beyond being held or poked or dropped. He can hear phone conversations, or youtube videos, or radio stations, but unless he can pick out precisely where a finger touched on a keypad or follow how the mouse moved and when it was clicked, he’s not going to know what was done on the screen unless people talked about it. And yeah, no, trying that would give him the worst migraine ever, also, basically impossible unless the electronic device can be taken somewhere without other distractions or it’s only rarely used.
• While he can generally repeat what he hears satisfactorily, if it’s in a language he doesn’t know, he won’t know what’s being said. And not all actions are easily deciphered or recorded.
• Remembering anything unless it’s been repeated often enough or written down is not easy for him.
• His main trouble with this power is a lack of focus and a tendency for it to get overwhelming. It can be hard for him to keep touch with reality and any sudden influx of recorded memories often leaves him relatively unresponsive or unaware of his immediate surroundings for a while.
• When he’s tired or sick, his mind wanders far more easily and he has a much harder time telling the difference between memory and reality.
• Being able to communicate with others clearly is a constant struggle, as is being able to think in a coherent, sequential manner.

Skills

• Knows how to sail/paddle small craft, might be a bit rusty. Also some rudimentary woodcraft and foraging knowledge along with camping knowhow.
• He’s not into great feats of athleticism, but he can walk forever.
• He can speak English, French, and a little bit of Spanish, and has a surprisingly prodigious vocabulary, for all he doesn’t use it much.
• Pretty good with dogs and understanding their behaviour.
• He has a strong will and stubborn focus, which he usually needs for talking, but pushing it further lets him pick up tricks or facts reasonably fast enough to be useful and have more than half a brain, though he can’t always remember them later and eventually has to stop pushing through all the noise even that little bit that keeps him coherent.

| BACKSTORY: |

Lucas was born and raised in Toronto, Ontario. He was an only child of a single father, with a relatively happy and normal childhood. He developed psychometry when he was 15, had it misdiagnosed and the treatment simply made it worse. Recovered after some time, found a life for himself that he could manage, then Kowalski happened.

longer version

Lucas was born and raised in the Summerhill district of Old Toronto. He grew up the only child of Gregory Bray, who raised him as a single father after a succinct divorce. It was not a difficult life, at least for Lucas. For Greg, raising a kid became a lifelong harrowing experience, but he persevered. And lucked out in having a good job, an understanding boss and parents more than willing to give advice whenever he needed it. He’ll admit he’s needed it a lot over the years, but he never regretted choosing to ask for custody.

Lucas spent his days amusing himself and making his dad laugh (or despair for a moment or two) until school started, and then he became very serious for half a year, full of a pretentious I’m learning stuff, attitude that his kindergarten teacher reminded him of right along into middle school. She was a nice little lady he couldn’t begrudge the ribbing though, and as classes got harder, he liked stopping by her room during the lunch hour, just to chat, before heading out to play football or ultimate Frisbee with his friends. Winters were for sitting in class until you were allowed to go outside and have snowball fights. Summers were for swimming and sailing and eating ice cream at the cottage they shared with a friend of his dad’s.

It was a normal, nice life broken only by the few rough spots of occasional arguments and sports induced injuries and the odd bad grade. Not that he always had good marks, but, y’know, some were worse than usual. Then, a few months before his 15th birthday, Lucas caught a football and suddenly couldn’t stand straight. The dizzy sensation of spinning uncontrollably unnerved him completely, but his friends just laughed, thinking he’d tripped, and he didn’t know where it came from. He shrugged it off; maybe he’d just needed a drink more than he thought. But that wasn’t the end of it. Gradually, he started hearing and seeing things too, sometimes clearly and other times too faintly to make out. But he found himself answering questions he hadn’t been asked or feeling people nearby when there weren’t any. He kept it quiet for a time, but anyone who knew him couldn’t help noticing the changes. He was more nervous and stopped talking as much, afraid to hear the telltale “What? What are you talking about?”

His dad noticed, Lucas had never been good at keeping things hidden, distracted as he was by these new, unbidden, complications, it was even harder than usual for him to act like everything was just fine. But he thought maybe it would solve itself, one of those phases everyone is so apt to say teenagers suffer from. Gregory was still hoping it was an ordinary bout of teenage rebellion maybe, when Lucas’ grades slipped too low not to point out. They had a talk, and while Lucas wasn’t happy with the consequences, he didn’t bring up the real problem either, just a vague ‘having trouble focusing, think I need to get a new mattress or something…’ It didn’t work. He failed that year, and finally caved under his dad’s disappointment. It wasn’t his fault everyone preferred talking over paying attention to the teacher.

So, Greg went to the school, talking with Lucas’ teachers. They all said the same thing, their students weren’t generally unruly, there was the odd conversation they had to stop, but nothing to disrupt the class enough to explain Lucas’ poor grades. In fact, he was the one doing most of the distracting… The next talk Lucas and his dad had, he came clean, he didn’t know who was talking, sometimes he thought he recognised a voice, sometimes it had to be a teacher. But it wasn’t just at school, and then he never knew who it was. The rest emerged more hesitantly when Gregory took Lucas to see a psychiatrist. He didn’t want to go, and Greg wasn’t sure he wanted to admit he must have done something wrong raising the kid, but they went.

The eventual diagnosis was paranoid schizophrenia and they prescribed a treatment to help with the symptoms as soon as it became obvious they were there to stay and other causes were ruled out. The effect was, unfortunately, mostly the opposite of what they’d expected. The drugs, meant to diminish or stop the hallucinations entirely, seemed to work for the first few doses, in the end, however, they left him more susceptible to the outside influence of past moments. And he lost contact with his own thoughts for a while, unable to fight the influx of sounds and scents and feelings. When he came back to himself, his dad was driving them to the cottage, getting him out of the city for a bit, he said, or had said, when he wasn’t listening. The psychiatrist had changed their diagnosis to disorganised schizophrenia when Lucas’ mental condition deteriorated so rapidly, which had a worse prognosis, and Greg had wanted to just get away from every other responsibility while he tried to accept it. Lucas’ recovery was not instantaneous, but he did benefit from that trip, and he and his dad started working together to figure out the problem. Being away from a well-populated area certainly helped, but it was Gregory’s opinion that his son couldn’t go forever living in the middle of nowhere.

They worked on figuring out how he could stay focused through what another psychologist thought was too much stimulus. His dad wasn’t so sure it was a known disorder by that time, but he had no one to tell his suspicions to, and he didn’t know if he wanted his son to be one of ‘those people’ either. Thankfully, before they could become too discouraged, someone suggested having Lucas apply for welfare or employment services, since he was no longer a minor at that point and couldn’t live off his dad forever. And he obviously wasn’t ready to live completely without help.

The caseworker who worked with them was a hyperhuman himself, and suggested that they visit the nearest H.E.L.P. office after just one meeting. Lucas, who by that time didn’t care anymore, went along because his dad wanted him to. He was unsurprised to learn that they couldn’t solve anything with a snap of their fingers either, but they did have some idea how to help him that didn’t involve drugs or camping. He spent three years at the Collegiate in BC and came back home at 25 without a job or even a high school diploma, but he could keep his head together for the most part.

Over the next few years, he earned his diploma, applied for and received support from Ontario Works and found a routine that kept him from staying cooped up inside his apartment. He made friends of his caseworker and tried to keep tabs on what H.E.L.P. was doing, occasionally they even hired him to browse an item's memories. He spent ten years volunteering as a dog-walker at the Humane Society and eventually picked up a part-time job as a house painter with a boss more than willing to meet him halfway. But things started going downhill again once hyperhumans were outed.

While it had no immediate, direct effect, the growing fear that took hold of the general populace ate at him. And when H.E.L.P. was disbanded, he felt it even worse. Caught up in the fear, not wanting to leave his apartment, he lost contact with anyone who could have pulled him out of the slow spiral. His caseworker had been fired and forced to leave home. His father had died five years previously. Old friends had other thoughts occupying their minds, and new friends didn’t know how to find him even if they wanted to. He started thinking he was a ghost, hearing too many conversations in which he couldn’t take part, no matter how loudly he shouted.

Needless to say, he didn’t follow through on continuing welfare or rent or his job and he lost everything within the year. He wound up wandering, homeless and confused, until his feet carried him out of the city and his head started to clear. Gradually, he managed to pick up the pieces of his life enough to appear mostly presentable and was picked up by a small group of hyperhumans when they stopped to offer him a ride during a big rainstorm. That’s when he learned how bad the situation had become, and he’s been moving ever since. Sometimes with, sometimes without company.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Most of Lucas’ day to day objectives are oriented around surviving, and having company that recognises he exists. Relatively simple requests to make of the world. His motivation is mainly fear; of what might happen should Hype Haters get their hands on him, and of losing himself to memories again. His secondary motivation is simple loneliness. He wants company for company’s sake.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

1. Curdle
2. 2 chars in 1
3. Teddy

| NOTES: |

stuff

• There are too many secrets playing in his head that nobody cares about for him to understand the value of someone sharing or keeping his mouth shut.
• His smiles, until he shows his teeth, are almost always an apology of some sort.
• Collects mementos.
• Eye movement when trying to find words for himself = towards the ceiling/sky, from the environment = towards the ground. Sideways is utter uncertainty.
• His writing is legible but distracted. Looks like this.
• Lucas cannot drive, and probably never should.
• Favourite drink is lemonade. Incidentally, he also really likes lemons straight up.
• Thai pizza, so peanut sauce and chicken with peanuts and sprouts and green onions, please.

Applications for Power

• On familiar territory(within city limits), Lucas wouldn’t get lost even if he was blindfolded, spun around three times and taken on a ludicrously circular route somewhere else, he’d know where he was without looking. And if he was able to focus, he could potentially(highly depends on his mental capacity at the time and any distractions) find his way back on an unfamiliar route provided he can go the same way as he came.
• He can learn things about individuals by the dominant emotions in their clothes and sometimes pick up on a shift in their mental state if their clothes echo whatever they’re feeling. Also, by whatever they’ve been saying and how.
• He can recognise people by their voice, and sometimes their habits. And can occasionally follow individuals in less crowded areas.
• He can get a bit of a general picture about what happened in the area, provided it’s an urban area.
• He can put together patterns and routines, learning a keycode or a safe place to walk or finding hidden things or how some items he’s never seen before are used. He can learn how to play a song on a piano or shoot a bow by copying what each remembers. Although he admittedly probably wouldn’t manage either well without practise…
• He can generally tell when something weird that happened was done by a hyperhuman or if it was just a skilled human or fluke or something else. Not always, but there are usually pretty good indications for or against, even when it isn’t obvious to the naked eye.

Writing the Memories

1. Memories are all linked to each other; even when not writing out the connection, there should always be one.
2. Similar actions, voices, emotions, weather patterns will draw out their counterpart or opposite in the memories of things more often than not.
3. The more something has been done to or around an object, the stronger that memory grows and the greater its priority in being shared.
4. Or, if an object is given routine, a break from it will be its greatest memory when touched.
5. Reflective materials(mostly mirrors and windows, though other metals and glass objects also work) can let him see what they ‘saw’ while non-reflective material won’t. Almost all objects collect sound, though walls do it especially well, and cloth, clothing in particular, absorbs a lot of emotion.
6. Every sensation is from the object's point of reference, barring emotions. This excludes pain, pleasure, fatigue, illness, some movement, easily dispersed odours...

Impressions of other Characters

• Serena: Old bones creak like stairs going up or coming down, child. Smile when she pulls you in, the world's warm and right.
• Tarvos: Found out, stiff and steady. Hard voice, hard words, he's there though. There and there when you need him.
• Liza: Bright eyes, bright lights, burning. Smile, you're doing it wrong.
• Nick: Fast forward the clock just waiting for time to unwind when it's moving too slow.
• Grace: Faith weighing in, weighing on, weighing heavy when you're in her shoes. Stand up straight, not tall, remember who you are. Hand of Grace comes down hard.
• Joshua: It's all downhill screaming, rushing to disaster. Knife's sharp and dripping hate. Can't cut free of his problems.

[GreenGrenade]

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| NAME: |

Gareth Corrigan

| NICKNAMES: |

“Gar”
The Mindjacker
Mindjack

| D.O.B.: |

01/05/1984

| AGE: |

32

| SEX: |

Male

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Standing at 6ft, Gareth is of a large, muscular build. His hair is short, of a dark brown colour; when grown long, it takes on a sandy brown hue. His face is handsome, with a square jaw and lightly defined cheekbones. Stubble makes up a simple sort of beard, adding to, not subtracting from, his looks. Most notable of all, however, isn’t his jaw, or his cheekbones, or his dark and sometimes sandy brown hair – they’re his eyes. An icy, almost grey colour, they add to the illusion of an eerily calm, emotionless man, unsettling nearly all who don’t know him.

His wardrobe consists mainly of casual clothing; t-shirts, sweatpants, jeans and the occasional hoodie or sweater. His Mindjack attire is another matter, with black army pants, combat boots, a black Kevlar undershirt and jacket, and a ski mask to conceal his face.

| GENUS: |

Hyperhuman

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Minerva

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |
ABILITIES

Mindjacking | A form of mind control, you shouldn't be fooled – this is not mind control in the traditional sense. Gareth isn’t a mind controller so much as a mind invader, meaning that he can transfer his consciousness into another person’s mind, effectively pushing theirs to the background – mindjacking. While in somebody else’s mind, Gar can see everything – their thoughts, their memories, their secrets – and control them as the dominant consciousness. He sees everything through their eyes, and every movement is translated through their body, as Gar’s remains immobile, mindless. After exiting a host, they black out as their mind “resets”.

Limitations | Gar can only enter the minds of those that are within a 33ft radius (10 metres). Anyone who’s beyond that point is too far away, “inaccessible” to Gareth’s mind. When inside a host, Gar can only remain there for a limited amount of time, the longest he’s ever done being three minutes. Any longer runs the risk of “fading him out”, as the host body’s consciousness fights to regain control. Staying in a host for prolonged periods of time also takes a toll on Gar’s body; for reasons he cannot determine, the longer he’s in a host, the more strain is put on it, the side effects upon returning ranging from headaches, nosebleeds and blacking out entirely. In addition, controlling other hyperhumans is significantly harder than controlling regular humans, and drains Gar much more than usual. It’s probably needless to say that when in a host, Gareth’s physical ability is limited to that of the host’s; as such it would be much harder for him to run as a 250lbs couch potato as opposed to a fit Olympic athlete.

Weaknesses | Other Minerva-class Hyperhumans seem to negate Gar’s ability entirely; he couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard he tried. Also, a correctly-powered individual (e.g. a telepath) could, depending on skill level, “intercept” Gareth’s consciousness as he makes the jump from his body to another, or vice versa, effectively killing him as his mind and body deteriorate in a limbo. One cannot survive without the other.

SKILLS

Martial Arts | Gareth is rather proficient fighter, a necessary skill for his line of work. Knowledgeable in Taekwondo, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Krav Maga and boxing, Gar is quite capable of holding his own in a fight.

Firearms | A former cop, Gareth has come to be skilled with firearms, primarily handguns. In his three year stint as Mindjack, he’s come to favour them, but also widened his range to carbines, shotguns and even sniper rifles when taking on, and controlling, Bill Zerilli’s men.

Deduction | Previously a detective in the Detroit Police Department, detective work comes easy for Gar. Where others see a mess of unrelated objects, he sees evidence; a useful skill when taking on the Zerilli Syndicate.

Interrogation | A skilled interrogator, Gareth knows just how to extract information from suspects – without torture. Using skills learned during his time as a police detective, his interrogative techniques have come in more than handy during his time as Mindjack.

| BACKSTORY: |

Gareth Corrigan was born a child of Detroit. Growing up in the upper-middle class, he was fortunate enough to be removed from the rampant crime that plagued the city, his father never wanting him or his brother, Daniel, to go near the kind of people that turned their mother into a junkie.

From an early age Gareth’s father enrolled both him and Danny in self defence classes. Gar learned boxing, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Krav Maga and Taekwondo all alongside his brother, albeit more intensively than Danny, who only did it to earn the approval of their dad. Gareth, enjoying the challenges they provided, continued to practice them all through his school years, carrying his skills over into adulthood.

At school, he didn’t have many friends. Many students saw his calm, quiet, almost reserved demeanour as disquieting, and many avoided him. When he moved into high school, he was no longer the “quiet weirdo”, but the “hot brooding guy”, a term he never quite understood why it was applied to him. As such he avoided, and on some occasions outright denied the advances of some girls, believing them to be attracted to who they wanted him to be, and not who he really was.

His power began to manifest at around that time. After a fearful incident involving another student, Gar began training himself to control his newfound ability, testing its limits on unsuspecting passers-by. He didn’t do this without remorse, however, often leaving his blacked-out test subjects with a five dollar tip and a note saying “Sorry”. Thus began the urban legend of the Mindjacker, going on to reach Bogeyman status among the people of Detroit.

After high school, Gareth quickly began his college education, intent on applying for work at the Detroit Police Department. It was there that he met the first person to truly understand him – the love of his life, Leah Lovell. It didn’t take long for them to move in together, and by the time Gareth was officially inducted into the DPD, they were living happily as newlyweds.

Four years into his career as a police officer, Gar became eligible for detective work. At age twenty-five, he was officially made a part of the DPD’s detective squad. Over the next three years, it became abundantly clear that he was one of the department’s best, earning the enmity of his fellow detectives.

He had many horrifying cases during his career, but none ever came close to those he encountered involving the Zerilli Syndicate. The ruling criminal organisation in Detroit, the Syndicate was ruthless. The bodies of those who dared disrespect them were found every other week, be it a business owner who failed to pay protection money on time, or a cop that refused to be on their payroll. Despite Gar’s burning desire to go after them, his superiors adamantly refused to let him; he would not build a case against the Syndicate, and better yet, he’d let them put him on their payroll, in order to protect both himself and his family. Gar’s frustration at the Syndicate saw him considering going outside the law to fight them with his powers, but after discussing it with Danny and Leah, he decided against it. It was sorrow and loss that drove him to vigilantism.

Leah died in a car crash at the age of twenty-eight. Driving on the freeway, she noticed too late that a truck on the opposing lane had veered into her own, crashing into her car at ninety miles per hour. She died on impact.

Gareth wasn’t a grieving kind of guy. Yes, the loss knocked air out of his lungs, and yes, he felt like a piece of himself was now gone, but Leah’s death never crippled him – no matter how much he wanted it to. He attended the funeral out of love and respect for his wife, enduring her mother’s accusations, as she had never liked Gar to begin with, and when she was put in the ground he paid his respects and left the graveyard and Leah’s family, left his job and sold his home, seeking any change that might distract him.

He found that change in vigilantism. Feeling as if he had nothing left to lose, Gar began attacking the Zerilli Syndicate in a chaotic, disorganised fashion, achieving nothing but the enmity of the Syndicate’s boss, William “Bloody Bill” Zerilli. Confusion within the criminal empire as to how one man could turn so many loyal people against Zerilli allowed Gareth time to stop and formulate a game plan against the Syndicate, all while Bloody Bill refused to believe the rumours that the Mindjacker, the notorious local urban legend, was after him. Gar, now attacking Zerilli where it hurt, was quick to let the crime lord know that it was indeed the Mindjacker, going by the alias, Mindjack.

For three years Gareth tangled with the Zerilli Syndicate, elevating the Mindjacker from urban legend to hero – at least in the eyes of the public. Gaining the attention of the DPD was not a good thing, and soon all twelve precincts were on lookout for Mindjack. As the police became more aggressive in their search for the nameless Mindjacker, Danny became desperate to convince Gareth to cease his vigilantism, fearing the possibility that his brother would be forced to become a fugitive. Gareth, unwilling to stop, assured Danny that that would not be the case – and one year following H.E.L.P.’s shutdown, he remained true to his word. But fate has a dark sense of humour, and the punchline came as the Hyperhuman Registration Act.

Though still in preliminary stages, the HRA was targeting those who’ve used their powers to commit crimes, and Gareth, having killed members of the Syndicate that would have otherwise killed him, was Detroit’s public enemy number one. Having heard of the hyperhuman convoys that were converging throughout the States, he left the Motor City, making his way to Pointe Bordeaux, Louisiana.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

First and foremost, Gareth is motivated by his late wife, Leah. As a police detective, she was the one that gave him drive to keep going despite the endlessly rampant corruption in the force. It was the sorrow of losing her that drove him to leave the DPD and take on the Zerilli Syndicate as Mindjack. And now, as he’s on the run from the government, it isn’t his brother that motivates him, and it most certainly isn’t himself; he couldn’t care less if he was caught or not – Leah’s dead. He doesn’t have a life worth living either way. No, what motivates him is the knowledge that Leah, whether six feet under or alive and healthy, wouldn’t want him to register. What motivates him is the knowledge that she wouldn’t want him to get caught.

| REFERENCE POSTS: |

#1: Green Arrow: Hawke, part one.
#2: Green Arrow: Hawke, part two.
#3: Green Arrow: Hawke, part three.
#4: The Flash... cooks some breakfast?

| NOTES: |

• People often see Gareth’s demeanour as intimidating; he’s too calm, too reserved for them to be around. It’s just the way it is.
• It takes a hell of a lot to get him angry, so much so that only his former workmates at the DPD have witnessed his fury.
• Always carries a handgun with him, be it on his person or in the duffle bag where he keeps his belongings.
• A picture of Leah always remains within his reach.
• He isn't interested in any romantic relationships. If asked whether he's looking for a relationship, he'll answer much in the same way as Robin Williams' character in Good Will Hunting: "My wife's dead."
• I'm generally not in the business of theme songs, but this fits Gareth to a tee, I think.
• Meatlovers. I mean, come on. But if we’re talking about real pizza, than I’d probably have to go with margherita.

[Hillan]

“I never did try to find a fight. The fight always found me.”

| NAME(S): |

Marcus Nate Weston

| ALIAS(ES): |

Mark, West.
Quantum

| D.O.B.: |

19 / 1 / 1990

| AGE: |

26

| SEX: |

Male.

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Marcus stands at 189 CM, and weighs 70 kilograms. His build is muscular, showing off his years of rigorous training. His hair is short and brown, he has a rugged look about him, the fact that he is in rough shape is no secret as anyone can see his bloodshot eyes, his stubble and the bags under his eyes. Marcus dresses in second hand clothing, ripped stonewashed jeans, boots or sneakers. Wearing long-sleeved shirts over a T-shirt and under his jackets. He's not against donning baseball caps or trucker hats, but he dislikes wearing beanies and the like.

His skin is fair, but tanned from hours in the sun. His eyes are sunken in from sleepless nights and countless bottles of booze, making the hazel color look dim.

| GENUS: |

HyperHuman.

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Mars

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

GYROKINESIS
Marcus is able to generate, manipulate and alter gravitational energy, effectively having control over gravity. Green energy manifests from his eyes and his hands when using his power, sending out aurora colored rays from his body when he uses his abilities. The uses of his powers are many, but he uses them in few different ways.

GRAVITY MANIPULATION
His abilities allows him to change the affects of gravity in one area, or around one person, allowing him to get a advantage in a fight, as most are not ready to at a split second start fighting at the same gravity as the moon.

SINGULARITY CREATION
Marcus creates a gravitational pull, a singularity that draws things towards it. This has been used to generate a shield against gunfire, but even been used to turn a entire building into rubble in a few moments. The material that gets sucked into the 'sphere' of gravity can be reversed, spitting it all back out with varying degrees of force.

POLAR SHIFTING:
Mark is able to completely shift the polarity of the gravity applying to it, for instance forcing his opponents to fall to the roof and get pinned against it. This power is only used in small areas, like a room or a hallway. As doing it in bigger areas would not only cause absolute chaos but lead to deadly consequences for Mark himself.

MISC.USES
Marcus is able to remove, or lessen the effects of gravity upon himself, allowing him to perform impossible feats, such as walking on ceilings and walls.

He is able to constantly affect the gravity of something, or someone, allowing himself flight, however, his power is not one of precision, and there for he prefers to use a proxy when he desires to fly. Creating a disc shaped platform for him to stand on is his preferred method.

While it is a novelty ability, Marcus is certain he's capable of bending bullets, allowing him to shoot around objects.

SKILLS
Marcus is for all intents and purposes a law enforcement agent as he's spent almost a decade being trained into a agent of H.I.T. He's been trained in many ways, survival, hand to hand combat, marksmanship, detective work, interrogation and Hyperhuman combat all being among the things he's well versed in. Besides that, he's a excellent driver, preferring modern muscle cars over all else. He's a passable mechanic and surprisingly very good at playing the violin.

LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES
One could argue that his biggest weakness is his humanity. He has the powers of a force of nature, but if he doesn't catch the bullet as it comes for him – he's as dead as any other Joe. His personal issues conflicts with the use of his powers, they're bound to his concentraion. Marcus suffers from severe PTSD due to his time in H.I.T and coupes with it by abusing alcohol, leaving him at less than full mental and physical prowess.

His powers are within themselves without any real weaknesses, only ways Marcus can not control them. He cannot open full on black holes – as he doesn't know how to close them. He is weak against airborne attacks, as most of the applications of his powers are based on forcing an opponent to a surface, or away from one. Likewise, he will not increase the gravity on the wall of a building by a thousand – as that would make the entire building collapse on itself.

Marcus can easily affect gravity by ten, either by multiplying the force, or dividing it. He's been known to affect gravity with much greater force than that. Relying on how concentrated he is and how well he is focusing.

| BACKSTORY: |

No one from a happy home wants to join the army. Marcus's home put the “fun” in dysfunctional. His parents were both abusive, to each other and to Marcus and his two sisters, Cecilia and Karin. Karin being older, and Cecila being two years younger than Marcus. Their parents verbally abused them and hit them around, Karin moved away as soon as she could, leaving Marcus to care for Cecilia. When he was 16, Marcus got in a fight with his dad, and following the fight he ran away from home, never to return. He went to join the army, the only choice that made sense.

While he scored highly in all of the tests, he was denied entry, on the grounds of government interference, and soon after his attempt, his hyperhuman abilities began manifesting. It started out with him crushing a can of soda with a thought. Making it implode with the blink of an eye. He soon found himself in Canada, attending the PRCU, the academy for the freaks of the world.

Marcus proved to be a excellent candidate for the Hyperhuman Education and Advanced Training Program, and after two years at the academy, he was taken into the program, to be trained to work for H.E.A.T, become a agent of the Hyperhuman Intervention Taskforce. During training, Marcus proved to be one of the brightest young trainees, scoring in the top in every test and displaying excellent skill. This was the first thing in his life he had been truly good at. And damn, he was good.

During the attacks of Yakob Kowalski, whom reveled the presence of the superpowered people, Marcus was part of a strike team whom went to battle the Hypers dubed by Yakob into doing his bidding. His unit took down several rogue hypes, protecting countless people. But his part in the conflict came to an end in the city of Winnipeg in Canada. Where his unit were sent to take down one of Yakob's highest ranking men, a powerful telekinetic. The aftermath of the battle left most of the city in ruins, thousands dead, the operation going down as one of H.I.T's greatest failures.

Since then, Marcus has drowned himself in one bottle after another – two years of constant drinking has left him a shell of his former self, barely functional, he stays in Pointe Bordeaux, Louisiana, because it's one of the few cities where he doesn't owe anyone money.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Redemption, security, self improvement. Marcus feels like he owes the world to make up for his actions, but he realizes that he's broken, and that in time, he might get put back together again. He strongly believes in the ideals that drove him to joining H.E.L.P many years ago – in serving the public and saving people, weather they're human or hyperhuman.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

#1
#2

| NOTES: |

Ham, always and forever ham. Mushrooms work, too.
Marcus carries a Colt 1911 that used to belong to his grandfather.
His favorite drink is 9 day old whiskey from Tennessee.
Preferring blondes over all else, Marcus is quite the flirt.

[Stein]

Ilani Marie Jackson

| NAME(S): |

Ilani Marie Jackson

| NICKNAME(S): |

Marie, Illy, Il, Lani​

ALIAS(ES):

Sly Spectre

| D.O.B.: |

08/21/1990

| AGE: |

25​

| SEX: |

No thank you.​

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

So like, this bitch is giving you Black Furiosa realness. She's slick and subtle, a slight Tinkerbell coyness to her. But, she's got that look in her amber eyes that if you cross her, she will DRAG YO ASS FO FILTH! Giving you all types of fierceness, she COME THRU on a bitch with her legs for days and years of bitch stompin, pounding the pavement...and sports have toned her body.

Her hair stays short and crisp, giving you some androgyny realness. And you see that fucking part in her hair, curved like a swinging backhand? She stays on that style. Her nose stud is subtle, something she can take in or out, but enough of a SHBLAM! when she wants it to be.

| H-CLASS: |

MINERVA

| ABILITIES: |

Ilani's MINERVA-Class powers manifest primarily in her Occipital lobe and have led to a variety of applications.

Enhanced Occipital Lobe:

Hider

Her earliest indications of her ability were shown in the enhanced functioning of her Occipital lobe. Ilani can process more stimuli and faster than the average human. Colors are more vibrant, texture is apparent on anything she sees. Scanning a room provides a wealth of detail and information. With focus, she can hone in on one aspect of a visual and study it. She has utilized this to study expressions, making her an apt casual lie detector (definitely a perk when it comes to her work). However, her eyesight can be overstimulated if she's not careful (I.E. Scanning excessively large crowds). Her focus is key in situations such as this.

Remote Viewing:

Hider

Her ability went on to mature slightly, manifesting psychic properties. Ilani is able to "zoom" her view in on something via an accute version of psychic projection. This "remote viewing" gives her the ability to see objects from farther away. (With a bit of concentration, she can even focus her enhanced perception simultaneously with her remote viewing, allowing her to "zoom in" on smaller objects to an extent.) Currently, she can zoom her eyesight approximately 2X normal human eyesight with ease, and 4X with some effort.

(Slightly) Enhanced Coordination: The proximity of the occipital lobe to the spinal cord has made Ilani's hand-eye coordination more proficient as well. Her movements are precise and she has a greater awareness of her body when her powers are active (in the areas of body position, speed and strength).

Distorted Vision:

Not Yet Active

Further maturation of her abilities has now allowed Ilani to briefly distort the vision of an individual she makes contact with for an extended period of time (at least 3 seconds). This ability briefly blocks the connection between the eyes and the occipital lobe. This prevents the eyes and mind from making sense of what's being seen, distorting vision (flipping it and blotching parts of it).

Linked Vision:

Not Yet Active

Having grasped a better finesse and hold of her powers, Ilani is able to see through the eyes of other individuals. This ability requires her to hold their gaze for a solid 5 seconds to maintain a strong connection. 3 seconds is the bare minimum and provides a blurred vision. As of now, she hasn't mastered viewing through her eyes and another just yet, as her already active powers tend to overstimulate when strained to such an extent. She will generally close her eyes to view through someone else's. If the person is unable to see or has their vision obscured, she sees nothing. She can't control movements, only view and observe. With concentration, her range can extend about 30 meters.

SKILLS:

-Superior Marksmanship: Maybe a byproduct of her powers, but Ilani has held a slight affinity for accuracy based activities since birth. After becoming accustomed to any ranged weapon, she can fire with superb accuracy and precision.
-Superior Perception: Ilani can be very aware of her surroundings, subconsciously taking in everything for an easy conscious recall. Illusions and mind tricks are typically ineffective against her, as she can usually notice when the process begins or even where it starts from.
-Reporter’s Eye: Even without her abilities, Illy can see a story anywhere. She notices inconsistencies in people and things. Puzzles present little challenges to her and her critical thinking skills are something to note.
-Retention: Though not eidetic, Ilani has an uncanny memory. Her recall is impressive and she has memorized entire scripts and poems in a matter of minutes.

| BACKSTORY: |

Early Life

Ilani’s mother told her--time and time again--throughout her childhood that “She was blessed with a light smile, feather eyes, a sharp tongue and a heavy mouth.” A questioning child-and a blunt one at that-with an unwavering eye, Ilani found it of the utmost importance to inquire on whatever was relevant.

That tended to be just about everything.

A “grown woman in a tyke body”, Ilani was just as happy alone as with others. Discovering the world around her was a past time and coming up with answers on her own brought her more joy than asking her barrage of precise questions. She studied the home around her, seemingly fascinated with every detail. A visit to the pediatrician yielded no worrying signs and hinted at no deficits.

As she grew, everything became of interest to her. She wanted to know the world. Its ins, outs, places of light, dark, muddied gray and passionate red (her mother especially balked in those areas, her nostrils flaring and her chest rising). Nia and Terry Jackson eventually couldn’t keep up with her seemingly endless number of interests, so they began to plant some of their own. They placed her in extracurricular activities where she would be distracted, yet stimulated and occupied. However, they didn’t expect her interests to change so quickly.

She grew bored of martial arts, even though the teacher stood mildly impressed at her natural aptitude. She loathed dance classes, throwing a small tantrum (that was swiftly halted) after the third day. And her vocal coach recommended “other professionals” in the area after her first session. They finally stumbled across archery. Soon after came baseball, and after that, football (soccer). She quickly acclimated, and excelled, in each sport, finding new venues to pursue. Ilani expanded her tastes, finding other avenues to take up her time. It was around this time that her powers began to manifest. For a 2 month span, Ilani dropped all of her extracurricular activities and took to secluding herself in her room in darkness. None of her friends reported having seen any indications of new friends, drug habits or anything traumatic. Ilani barely ackowledged them in her room. Her parents feared the worst, and were a step away from taking her to see a medical professional. However, Ilani began interacting with the world once more, seemingly as if nothing had happened. She didn’t seem to be hiding any secret shame, and in fact seemed more lively. So her parents tried to remove it from their minds.

The Come Up

By college, she had stumbled into the world of journalism. Having learned to tap into her powers on a light level, Ilani used her gift to her advantage. Her “eye” for detail served her well in investigative reporting, being able to note micro-expressions, the pause before a word, dilated pupils and sweat gland production. If she was the first on the scene, her reports were lavishly descriptive, taking in detail and minute points of observation. The more she saw of the world, the more hunger Ilani had to tell it’s story. Stories of triumph in the everyday man and reflections on the human experience as seen through all walks of life, Ilani felt she saw it all. It certainly translated in her work, gaining her notoriety on her university campus among students and professors alike, if you read the paper or the online articles.

A crisp night in October of 2014 saw Ilani huddled in an alley, slumped against the wall, clouds of enraged and wavering breath exhaling from her. 14 individuals, beat to death in cold blood. For enjoyment. For sport! Their entire lives, ended at the behest of a privileged whim. When Ilani had stumbled across the first inklings of this story three months prior, her passion for it fueled six consecutive nights of non-stop digging and chasing leads. Finally, compiling a lengthy cache of evidence to support her latest narrative: A string of homeless murders, that held too many similarities to be coincidence. All from the same neighborhood. The proclaimed “ghetto” of the city. A place where no justice seemed to ever exist, or no one cared enough to see its light shone there.

She strutted into her editors office. Though only recently an intern-turned-staff, she had already caught his eye and though she knew the piece would be hard sell, she stood firm.

“My theory: as you can see from the correlation in coroner reports and timestamps from the footage, these deaths are connected. And to go further, they’re by a group. Wealthy socialites is my guess. You can look here...and right here, to see the almost indistinguishable marks on each victim. And--”

Her piece was shut-down before it could take its first breath. “Straw grasping”, “beneath you”, “better quality,” were the terms her editor tried to pepper and obscure the air with. But Ilani’s gaze never wavered. She saw them, the micro expressions of fear, amazement (at her) and panic. Ben Manley, her editor, balking in the face of the truth. Which meant he knew something or he simply didn’t care about the ghetto’s, just like everyone else in the damned city.

The man tuttled on, but Ilani’s mind only saw hot flashes of anger. She turned in the middle of his lecture on “delivering quality pieces”, smiled at him, and sauntered out, leaving all of her work for the past months.

Following the confrontation with Mr. Manley, the night landed Ilani Marie in her apartment, drunk and fuming. Though her inquisitive and precise nature was what she was known for, her blatant and stubborn opposition to injustice locked into slot 2 of her “Most Notable Defining Elements”. She couldn't back down. She wouldn't. After an empty bottle of Myx Moscato, her idea came through in a clear flash:

"Tackle it from a different angle."

Connection

Her plan was simple: She had to find a vigilante to cover, their rising prevalence was something everyone wanted to hear about. Maybe, by working with one, she could predict the next attack, or narrow it down. And from there, prevent the attack and cover the story. She didn't have to be an inferno, she could just be the spark to the brush. Get the people talking about it, get all eyes on this string of deaths.

Hell, she would even give her story to someone else so she didn't catch the flack for it. Anything so these stories were told and justice was served.
---

After a month of searching and sleuthing, she finally made contact with a vigilante.

Or rather, he found her. Since the Kowalski terrorist incident, so many of them had been popping up, and so many of them too green for their line of work. But not this one. A Hype himself with ability to hyper-extend his limbs up to 20 feet, he had been doing the job for a little over a year.

---
"Are you stupid? Hunting around out here is dangerous."

"Last time I checked, no," she smirked at him from beneath hood. He didn't intimidate her in this alley they stood in. "What if I was out here looking for monsters, or the men who have the courage to take them down?" She eyed him curiously. He wore a simple cowl and almost looked a little comical running around in shorts and a cut off hoodie. But she supposed stretchy clothes were a bit hard to come by.

"You'll get yourself killed," he responded simply, lightening his hold on her against the alley wall.

"People die everyday and I'm trying to make sure maybe a few less get killed if I have a say-so." She eyed him now, pulling back her hood and pushing him back. "Either help me help the people, or get the hell out of my way."

Birth of a Shadow

---
Apparently, her resolve was enough to get him to stop and listen to her. Something about the defiance in her eyes, he told her as they sat down at her apartment the next day. She had made the effort to extend trust by opening up her home.

From there, she and the vigilante -- Mr. Limbs was his alias -- compiled her work and spent the next week plotting all the information she had on the attack. He made connections she couldn't with his experience in crime. She saw consistencies and patterns he couldn't due to her nature and abilities. Together, they made a powerful duo of intellect and might.

At the end of their week, Illy stood back, looking at their work. Diagrams, maps and reports all leading to a localized area for the next attack. Beside it, a narrowed list of possible perpetrators that still seemed to be inconclusive. They were missing something--but one things was sure: the culprit was moving the bodies postmortem. And they had finally narrowed it down to a building in the abandoned district of the city.

But something felt "off" to Illy. These victims, none of them could be traced to the city at all. And a majority of them seemed to be Hypes. Something didn't make sense.

--
"We've got to do it though!" Erick, Mr. Limbs, spoke up. "These are my people dying out there."

Illy bit her tongue. She still hadn't revealed being a Hype herself. For some reason, she hadn't wanted to come clean with the information. "Look, that doesn't mean I don't want them saved too. But we have to tread lightly. What if the guy or group is in this building right now? You go barging in, then what?"

"I do what I've been doing for over a year: I fight, I win and I protect. Look, you're the one who came to me and--"

"Therefore I should be calling the shots," Illy interrupted stepping to him. "I'm saying stop so we can go in fully prepared. But if you want to charge in, you go right on ahead!"

Erick stormed off then, leaving her to fume in her apartment. It wasn't long before her gut overtook her stubborn nature and she was out the door as well, hoodie and walkie-talkies in tow. This damned story would get her killed.
---

She met Erick at the site, a looming warehouse district that couldn't have looked more typical and cliche. She voiced her concerns again, eventually able to talk him down to promising to simply scope the area out tonight.

When they found the actual warehouse, however, she knew that promise was going to be broken.

Illy had been the one to see it, the smudge of filthy windows providing little conceal for the warehouse. She stood atop another building peering in. Blood covered the floor and smears and dried splashes. She could also spot sterilized tools of torture lining a metal table. Seats lined that area as well and Illy felt sick to her stomach. Some group was killing people for entertainment and reveling in it. She debated on calling it in to Erick, knowing what his reaction would be. But, she had to.

The moment she mentioned the blood, he stopped responding on his walkie-talkie. From her vantage point she could see the sector he was in and soon made him out, charging to her indicated warehouse.

"Erick! Erick wait! We don't know if there's anyone in there! We need to catch them in the act and make sure they don't do anything!" She pleaded into the walkie, but knew the situation was fruitless. Something in her warned against this. She analyzed the building, straining her eyes to find any signs of current life in the building.

Mr. Limbs burst through the doors of the warehouse, and Illy expected to hear shouts and gunfire, but nothing happened. He strode in. She could make him out through the window panels and all seemed fine, but she didn't trust it. Something was off.

"Sly!"

Illy jumped at the sound of her walkie. It was Erick.

"Sly, I hear muffled banging from the back area. Sly, I think there's people trapped in here. I knew it! I'm going in."

"Limbs wait!" She tried to tell him once more. Her eyes narrowed on the back area. And suddenly she could see into the building, the window providing a good line of sight. She finally knew what was off about the building. Why it seemed so open. Why the door had been unlocked. She understood the blatant advertisement. She understood everything when saw the red trip wire running across the length of the door Erick was walking to. The source of the muffled banging.

"ERICK --!"

The explosion halted the rest of her speech as she fell back. Flames lit the sky and area around her and even from her position, she could feel the gust of heat as it expelled from the building.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Illy stayed the rest of the night, shocked and in complete silence. She counted 15 bodies of charred remains being wheeled out as the authorities made it on the scene. Erick's was among them, and Illy wept for him.

The incident that night was never reported. It never made the news or any paper and officially, it was faulty wiring with no reported deaths. That told Illy everything she needed to know. 15 people dead and no one cared. No one knew. No one spoke for them.
---

The silence of their deaths slowly suffocated a piece of Ilani. Up until that incident, the hatred harbored in fear and shadowed grievances toward Hyperhuman's had been somewhat veiled to Ilani. Though she had been exposed to the hatred via stories and articles, something about the current predicament of the Hyperhuman in the current world had been ignored by her. But no longer.

She spent her own pocket eternity sitting in the abandoned warehouse, switching between different position of pained contortions as she wept and grieved. The charred smell stuck in her nose for hours, and her mind envisioned wafts of burnt hair and charred flesh. Her cries became hoarse after the fifth hour. The tears stopped flowing after six. At nine, her throat produced only strained and tight expulsions of air as she continued to sob out the overwhelming pain. No proper motivation to move from her current nexus of depression and into a hate filled world fell upon Ilani for a total of 14 hours.

----

That was six months ago.

It's been 6 months since that night. Ilani has spoken of the night to no one and has carried it with her. Who could she trust? Who would even care? Ilani feared the answer to each question more than the other. The hatred seemed pointless to Ilani, but what could she do now?

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks: IllAdvised, Angel and Feral heed their Call to Arms as Mavericks for a city who has laid in want. But, can they stand against their own demons?
Vigilance: Blood and Justice: Resident Magni and drunk Sarks Hummel can’t catch a break in this city. Things were much easier across the Pond. The persistent rain and his missing personal assistant aren’t making things much easier.
The new Eidolons: In the realm of Elenthalheim, all is not as it seems of the society, fighting for survival. Deep in the heart, they prepare for the day when their world will need them most. And that day is rapidly approaching.

EXTRA: Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks: Want to know what it’s like inside the mind of a sultan serving the face of a god? Take a glimpse at a juicy snippet inside the life of Raja.

| NOTES: |

WIP

[Atrophy]

| NAME: |

Grace Bethany Kennison​

| NICKNAME(S): |

Thumper. It started as a tongue-in-cheek joke by the media, but then it stuck.

| D.O.B.: |

08/10/1996

| AGE: |

19​

| SEX: |

Female​

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Grace is around five and a half feet tall and appears to be of a healthy weight, although it’s a little hard for her to say what her exact weight is now. We’ll touch on that a bit later. She has a pretty straight build and lacks any real tone or definition. She would classify herself as “skinny fat” and always gets nervous when it’s swimsuit season. Her dark brown hair falls around the top of her shoulders with bangs that sweep across the tops of her eyes. She finds her ears a bit too big, so she rarely wears her hair up. Her eyes are a dull blue. Her skin is tanned by the sun, forcing a slight outburst of dark freckles all over her bared skin. She finds using a lot of makeup to be a hassle, and tends to stick with just a little touch up here and there. Grace stands with a slouch and has a tendency to keep her head down. When she speaks a slight Cajun accent that she absolutely hates betrays her heritage. She tends to dress casually in graphic tees and jeans or shorts, giving her that nice, normal, unassuming American teen look. Grace always wears a necklace with a cross on it.

She used to fight crime in street clothes and a mask, but since assuming the identity of Thumper she made her own costume. The outfit is just a tight blue tracksuit with an uppercase T made out of masking tape on the front and back and a black paintball helmet with a tinted visor. Grace has read enough dark comic books to know the dangers of wearing a cape. It’s absolutely tacky looking and completely horrible, but it does the job of protecting her identity. ​

| GENUS: |

​Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Atlas

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Remember how it was hard for Grace to say what her true weight is? That’s because Grace is slowly but continuously growing denser. As time goes on Grace gets heavier and heavier and heavier. The last scale she purchased went up to 700 pounds; she broke it about a month ago. However, Grace doesn’t fight crime by just sitting on ne’er-do-wells until they scream uncle. She has those classic tough guy powers, too. The more dense she gets the stronger and tougher she gets. Grace can lift one and a half to two tons over her head with relative ease, meaning she can toss a medium-sized sedan towards someone like it was a medicine ball. Grace isn’t going to pretend like she understands the laws of motion or anything like that, but she does know that when she is moving and hits someone they generally stay down--and she pulls most of her punches. The girl’s also pretty tough, and unless you’re strong enough to sling vans around like paper planes trying to best her physically is a real dumb idea. Bats and knives tend to just break on her, normal bullets leave nasty welts and can knock the wind out of her, and fancy high-grade military shit could feasibly do some damage but still see her breathing. She doesn’t have much experience fighting Hyperhumans, but she could probably take a better licking than most.

Unfortunately for Grace, her powers are mostly limited by her otherwise subpar physique. She’s hardly an athlete. A reasonably fit person could outrun Grace, and her added strength does little to change the fact that she’d never be able to dunk a basketball. The only knowledge of fighting she has comes from video games and kung fu flicks, so she’s prone to attempt ridiculous moves that are just impossible to actually do in. She’s generally just uncoordinated and even clumsy when in action. Most of the times that she throws a punch she misses with her fist and accidentally connects with her shoulder, which is typically enough to knock someone off of their ass, send them flying a few yards, and fracture a few ribs. Outside of combat, her weight is a general problem. She tends to avoid elevators and has to stick to cargo vans and truck beds to travel due to her weight causing cars to drag on one side. Grace has broken enough chairs in her life to resign herself to sitting on the ground forever. Her power is “always on” so she has to interact with most of the world as if was a model ship she was building inside of a glass bottle. She also has this absolutely asinine idea that she’s going to be a proper superhero, which means NO KILLING.

Grace’s density has done little to strengthen her mind. Her biggest weakness would probably be either MINERVA- or CUPID-Class Hyperhumans. She may be thick skinned and denser than a rock, but apparently she’s soft in the heart and head. As well, she has frequent nightmares about drowning since she knows from first hand experience that she sinks faster than an anchor strapped to several hundred other anchors. Being over or near bodies of water generally fills her with dread, and she lives a mile from the beach in a damn state full of bayous and swamps.

| BACKSTORY: |

Grace was born on the absolute hottest day of the year in Pointe Bordeaux, Louisiana to her less than thrilled bible-thumping parents who now had another damned mouth to feed. She was the fifth child of Mr. and Mrs. Kennison. She was also their fifth favorite after her big brother Peter in first, her older sisters Harmony and Prudence bouncing around second and third, and the family dog Samson taking fourth. She was sixth until her brother Joseph came out of the closet a few years back. A little something about Grace’s father: Dad was a true Southern gentleman and a good Catholic who’d give you the shirt off of his back and some from his wardrobe as well unless you were a Muslim, a homosexual, or a Falcons fan. Dad always said that he was just trying to protect Mom from being ridiculed by the neighbors for having a gay son, but we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. Let’s go back to when Grace was not in the honorable position of being the second-most-hated.

Grace’s first slight against her parents came on the day she was baptised and happened to relieve herself on Father Forrest. Nobody else really paid it much mind--Grace was, after all, a baby--but her parents were absolutely mortified. They had friends in that Church. Friends who laughed. At them. It was SUCH a big deal. Their daughter continued to be just an utter, absolute embarrassment. She screwed up her first communion. She fell asleep in Sunday School. She was constantly in trouble with the Sisters at her Catholic school for making rude noises during nap time. She inappropriately displayed affection towards others. “Bless that Grace,” her parents’ friends would say. “She’s so soft-hearted,” they would say. Her parents knew what they meant. They meant to say that she was soft-headed, that their daughter was an idiot. Why couldn’t she be better behaved like her sisters? At the very least, she could show some shame.

Despite being an absolute fumbling fuck-up in the eyes of her parent’s and being forced to attend the horrendous doldrums that is the Sunday Mass of the Roman Catholic Church, Grace actually took a shining towards religion. Not to the extent where that when she started attending public schools in third grade (once her family could no longer afford the private Catholic school) she was that one kid always talked about Jesus and God and quoting the Bible and having that fucking creepy purity towards them, but she was religious. Despite all the jokes about altar boys, she was proud to be Catholic. Besides, as a girl she didn’t have to worry about that sort of scene. She read the Bible regularly. She could spit some mean Hail Marys, and we aren’t talking about football because she could not do sports if life depended on it. She wore a cross every day for every second to this god damn day. Shit, while other kids were running around doing little kid shit and the annoying Jesus girls were telling them they’d go to Hell for it, Grace was spending her time volunteering for food drives and helping out with charities.

And somehow she was still the least favorite kid because her Dad caught her reading comic books. What the hell, they weren’t even hers--she had borrowed them from Joseph.

Grace’s powers came about around the time she started puberty. Always a little bit on the heavy side and hurt by her schoolmates because all children are bastards regardless of whether they knew their dad or not, Grace started dieting. Which, when all her Mom served was cornbread and whatever proteins she could find on sell and cook in a pan full of butter, meant she just didn’t eat. The girl was always hungry, and she was always miserable, and she always felt weak, and she never lost weight. Even as the fat disappeared from her body and her skin turned yellow and dry she was somehow gaining weight. Grace was absolutely baffled, but the scale did not lie. All skin and bones and she was fat, fat, fucking fat. Completely disgusting; a skeletal cow.

And then she went swimming with her brother Joseph in the river one summer when she was thirteen. Swimming was probably the one activity she was any good at, and the girl sunk like that boat in that one movie. If Joseph didn’t help drag her out she would’ve drowned. If she hadn’t almost drowned she would’ve probably starved herself to death. Listen, Grace isn’t going to go around and tell anybody that it was a miracle, but she thought it was a miracle. At the very least a wake up call. She started eating right after that and blossomed back towards a healthy shape.

Joseph and her decided not to tell anybody about that drowning incident on account of the fact that neither of them wanted to get in trouble. It kind of solidified them as each other's favorites in the family. Neither of them knew what the hell was happening to Grace’s body, but both of them worked together to make sure her parents or the other siblings didn’t find out. They joked that their Dad would call an exorcist if he found out, while both secretly believed that wasn’t actually far from the truth. As a sign of good faith, Joseph told Grace about his homosexuality. As a sign of good faith, Grace decided to not be like their Dad...except when it came to fan of the Falcons; those people were just godless heathens and assholes to boot.

The problems with her strength started to arise by the time she with fifteen, and unlike her weight this grew exponentially. What started as her accidentally tearing books in half turned into her breaking door handles and faucets. Eventually inevitably it became clear that she couldn’t hide these changes from her parents. Besides, it was getting exceptionally weird at dinner when she refused to sit out of fear of breaking her already rickety chair. So...she told her parents. The reaction she got from at first was, well, confusing to say the least, until she remembered that these were the same people who were mortified for years after she had used a priest as a porta-potty when she was less than one year old. Her parents told her that she would not tell anybody about this and pulled her out of school. Mom would teach her and she’d get her GED once this whole damn thing passed.

The reaction was so mild that when she told Joseph about it he figured that maybe he should tell them about himself. It still took him time to work up courage, and only when a nearly seventeen year old Grace talked him up did he finally do it. The whole ordeal went less than ideal. Apparently, Dad was fine with having a freak for a daughter, but having a son be a sinner was absolutely unforgivable. Why, what would the neighbors say? The whole part in the Bible about forgiving those who sin seemed to be something that must have been newly added in versions that came out after her father had read the good book, because he threw Joseph out of the house. So Grace, in her final act of defiance against her parents, followed Joseph out. The two pariahs rented a studio apartment in the bad side of town. Joseph worked, Grace couldn’t land a job. Her refusal to sit or shake hands always threw people off, and being a high school dropout didn’t help.

This was all around the time that terrorist exposed the existence of Hyperhumans to the world. Everything around Grace sort of blew up after that--apologies for the pun. It was a nice reassurance to know that she wasn’t the only weirdo on the planet, but the warm fuzzy feeling of not being alone quickly subsided as people reacted the typical way they did around things they didn’t understand by trying to get rid off it as fast as possible. Grace felt that good old Catholic guilt swelling up inside of her. Somebody, somewhere had to do something to prove that Hyperhumans weren’t a bunch of monsters. She expressed these feelings to Joseph, and he sat her down and gave her the most important talk of her life. She’d become a superhero. Like, a real life superhero running around and helping people in need. How wasn’t that a good idea? The Mavericks made it work.

She started her superhero (vigilante is such a negative word) career a year ago. Grace and Joseph would sit in their apartment listening to a local police scanner for any crimes. Grace would then take to the streets where Joseph read her directions over the phone via Mapquest. She was relatively unknown (and both not thanked and not hated) for the longest of time until a few months ago when she stopped a thief in a public area. The socially awkward girl wearing all black with a Halloween mask over her head realized that she was being recorded by people with their phones, and in a moment of brilliance decided now would be the time to go viral and spread awareness that Hyperhumans were doing good in other places besides Larissa. She just had to say something cool, something awesome for the headlines. The only thing that came out of her stupid dumb mouth was something she had read dozens of times. The girl, posed like an action figure, turned slowly to the camera’s as her cheeks grew hotter and hotter and said in the shakiest voice ever: “Thou Shalt Not Steal.”

The video that showed on the news ends with her immediately running away.

Grace bore witness to the most embarrassing moment in her life for weeks as the video spread across local new stations and onto the Internet. Joseph played it for a week on loop straight, rolling with laughter. The media did not let it die, and as she continued her work as a “superhero” news stories and head lines reading “The Bible-Thumping Vigilante Smites Another Sinner”, “Hyper Religious Hyperhuman Halts Crime”, and “The Hand of God Crushes a Getaway”. One pundit referred to the girl as “Thumper” for the way she beats criminals like a fiery preacher beats a bible. The name stuck. Eventually, Grace rolled with it. If it rose awareness of Hypes trying to do some good, then so be it. She’d be the crusading weirdo the media wanted, even if it meant sitting and sweating through Sunday sermons while hearing her priest condemn “Thumper” for giving Catholics a bad name.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

A pep talk from her brother was all she needed. ”You got superpowers, you gotta be a superhero! It’s, like, Superpowers 101. It’s in Genesis. God made Adam and Eve and was like, eh, I can do better. Then God made Hyperhumans and was like, hell yeah, I nailed it, way to go God. Now go out there, fight some crime, give a few photo ops, and get rich and famous. This was before Greed was a Deadly Sin, mind you, and that jazz isn’t even in the Bible anyway. And I always give to my Church every Sunday, anyway, okay?”

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

The One Where We Remember to Tip the Waitress - Amongst the Lonesome
The One Where an Old Man Meets the President - No Masters or Kings
The One Where a Politician Grills a Drunk - The Origin

| NOTES: |

■ Grace’s brother, Joseph, is about three years older than her and serves as her dispatcher and radio back up, as well as runs (and filters most of the hate from) her Facebook and Twitter pages through a Tor proxy to prevent people from tracking down their IP address.
■ Grace has managed to keep her paper thin disguise so far. Her parents know about her powers, and the only reason she can imagine why they haven’t gone to the authorities about her yet is that either they a) don’t care or, more likely, that b) they wouldn’t want the neighbors to know that it was their daughter.
■ Thumper, despite her efforts to do good, is generally disliked. She has miraculously yet to hurt any innocents while taking down a criminal, but the same cannot be said for the amount of money in tax dollars she is bleeding the city for via accidental property damage. She gets a healthy amount of hate on the Internet for being a Hype and for, thanks to the media’s portrayal and her own act of leaning into it, being a religious zealot.
■Sausage and mushrooms are an eternal classic, but pineapples are my fucking jam.

[Heathen]

| NAME(S): |

Janelle Lee Hambrick​

| NICKNAME(S): |

Janey​

| ALIASES: |

Blindspot

| D.O.B.: |

02/14/1991

| AGE: |

25

| SEX: |

Transgender Female​

| SEXUALITY: |

Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Janelle is a natural blonde with hair that comes all the way down her back that she normally curls. Even after transitioning at a young age, she still continued to grow to approximately 5'9 without wearing heals. One of her most notable features are her crisp blue eyes that she receives many compliments about. Starting from her face, its very slender and delicate with a slim nose and pouty lips. She has had some facial feminization surgery done after she turned legal age as well as breast augmentation. Even though she has nice natural features, she does wear makeup to enhance those features. Leading down to her body she has a very slim waist, but curvy in all the right places. Since receiving hormones and T-Blockers, they have shaped and tapered her body to be that of a cis woman that she couldn't be more proud of. Janelle tends to work out and eat right to maintain her body shape. As far as clothes go she tends to wear things on the expensive side as she as the means to afford it. You'll never catch her not wearing heels or pumps. A lot of her outfits tend to be revealing and showing lots of skin to make up for the fact she had low self-esteem growing up. Janelle has the look of a diva queen and has a strong presence when she enters a room.

| GENUS: |

Hyperhuman

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Mars

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Psionic Invisibility Manipulation - Janelle has the ability to manipulate psionic energy for a number of effects affecting the visible spectrum, including the rendering of herself and other objects invisible, and the construction of solid, invisible force fields. Manipulating this type of energy does not make her a Minerva as she does not have true psychic abilities. Instead she fits more into the Mars category.

Invisibility

Invisibility - By a simple act of concentration, she can psioncally cause all wavelengths of visible, infrared, and ultraviolet light to bend around her without distortion; she also somehow directs enough undistorted light to her eyes to retain her full range of vision while invisible. An observer, unaware of the peculiar path light takes around her body, would have the sensation of seeing through her. Janelle can also mentally project the invisible energy produced within the cells of her body in order to render other people or objects invisible. The largest volume she can as yet turn invisible at a single time is approximately 40,000 cubic feet of volume (roughly the size of a swimming pool). She has sufficient control over her power that she can turn parts of her body selectively invisible. Her invisibility is undetected by all forms of technology and can only be sensed by strong Minerva types. Or one can throw water or paint in the area to see if it will create a silhouette of her body. Janelle can also make objects that are made invisible by other means visible by letting her energy interfere with theirs.

Force Fields

Force Fields - With the psionic energy Janelle uses to bend light to make herself invisible, this same energy can be used in a more potent manifestation. Through concentration, she is able to project a field of invisible psionic force made of pure psionic energy which she can manipulate into a number of relatively simple forms: walls, domes, cylinders, etc. The complexity of the shape is limited by her ability to imagine (mentally visualize) a particular form and keep it in sharp mental focus. The size of a given psionic force projection is also limited by her mental stamina. The smallest force projection she can visualize (and maintain the visualization) is the size of a marble. The largest solid force projection she can visualize and maintain is about 50 feet in diameter. Her force projections can protect her from most impacts, energy being the easiest to deflect while physical impacts are the hardest. Since this power is an extension of her mind and body, Janelle is affected by inertial forces acting upon her projections. Thus if a car traveling at 60 miles per hour hit a wall of her force that was 6 inches thick, unless she generated a bracing shape against a sufficiently sturdy object, she would be affected as though she were hit by the car directly. At the moment Janelle is trying to learn how to use her shields offensively by throwing them or to simulate telekinesis.

Limits/Weaknesses

Invisible energy can only stay active for as long as the user can concentrate. While her invisibility can stay active for quite a while before having to revert back, her shields take more energy to create. Her shields limits can take more physical attacks, but are weakened when hit by bullets. Janelle’s shields are limited to so many bullets before they disperse and she’s vulnerable for attack. Her more complicated feats such as simulating TK or flight require more concentration and skill than a regular wall. Too much strain can cause nose bleeds, headaches, and cause her to pass out.

Rain and other liquids, solids, fire, etc. can show the user's shape while invisible as well as smoke. In extremely cold temperatures, Janelle’s invisibility may become distorted to wear you can possibly see her. Although she can remain undetected by most Minervas, she can’t remain hidden by all of them. Powerful clairvoyants in particular are able to sense her when she’s around. People with optical powers have a higher chance of detecting her as well. The power also takes concentration. If it is broken, she becomes visible again. Janelle is unable to stay invisible for a long time due to the amount of energy it takes. As stated above, her force fields can block most things but at a cost. If she doesn't have time to brace herself before a powerful hit, she can become affected by the force impact with a shield or not. The moment she loses concentration on her force fields, they cease to exist.

| BACKSTORY: |

Janelle was pretty much born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Actually, she was assigned the pronoun 'him' before she began her journey transitioning into the woman she is today. Janelle was born 'Jackson' on Valentine's Day to her Italian parents in the city of Los Paraíso, California. A few years before she was born, her father had landed a job in one of the top computer software companies in the world. Although entry level at the time, he made more than enough to provide for him and his then son. Janelle was given everything as a child and was quite the spoiled brat at times. Although this wasn't the thing that was troubling her parents. As little 'Jackson' was growing up, they often found him sneaking into his mom's closet and trying on her heels. Over time it got worse to the point he wanted to be called 'she' and didn't want to be referred to as a boy. Immediately Janelle's parents sent her to see a specialist that dealt with Gender Identity Disorder. After a few rigorous tests, they concluded that their son was indeed transgender and was urged to let him transition. Janelle's father was initially opposed to this idea as he had grown up with traditional Italian values, but was forced to make a compromise when he learned young trans kids often commit suicide when they feel they aren't accepted or loved. By the time Janelle reached 11, they started referring to her by her desired name and put her on T-Blockers and Estrogen hormones so she wouldn't go through male puberty. It was also around this time where the software company her father worked for invented a new software that became popular around the world. He was promoted to CEO and became one of the richest men in the country.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience for Janelle in school. She went to a private institution and kids were known to be worse there than public school systems. She was bullied and teased relentlessly for who she was and often even teachers resented her. It wasn't a normal day if Janelle's father hadn't threatened to sue the school system on a number of times. This bullying caused Janelle to have low self-esteem and body issues. It wasn't long that her abilities began to manifest themselves out of nowhere. Often times she would look in the mirror and notice herself coming in and out of the visible spectrum. She didn't want to tell anyone about this as she would probably be taken away to a lab and be poked at with needles like a freak. Instead she hid it in secret and practiced what she did on her own. She began to use her powers for personal gain by becoming stealth and 'nudging' her aggressors down the stairs so they would hurt themselves. She felt like a Goddess that could do anything and no one could stop her, or see her for that matter. She developed a diva bitch attitude and made other girls envy her by parading her wealth and new found curvaceous body all over school. Those hormones really set in well. She became a socialite in her school and went on to graduate in the top of her class. She went on to study Psychology in college as well as make a few 'adjustments' to her face and body thanks to he daddy's credit card. Not only did she feel like she was the shit, but she had these awesome powers to boot.

It wasn't before long that she wanted more. With her dad's contacts, she managed to speak to TV producers into getting her on a new show about transgender individuals in the country called TransAmerica. It was becoming one of the hottest reality tv shows to date and Janelle was now on it. She soon became a reality star with the show jet setting her career as a tabloid queen. She is known as the Transgender Kim K across the country and became a household name for being the bitchy blonde. However it was only a matter of time before people found out what she could really do. During a taping of the show, she got into a fight with another one of her cast members. The other girl through a drink at her in which Janelle instinctively through up a force field. This was the first time she used this ability and it was in front of everyone. People ran off screaming and it ruined her life. The show sold the tapes to news stations and tabloids all across the country, showing everyone that she was hyperhuman scum. Since then she had not step foot out of her house in fear that someone would find her. Initially scared of their daughter, her parents got over it and started protecting her. They knew that people would probably be trying to find her so they sent her off to live in their condo in Pointe Bordeaux to lay low for awhile. As of now, she's lived there for about a year without anyone spotting her.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

At the moment, Janelle who is this confident girl is living in fear for what others think of her. Fear is driving her to take action and to return to normal. She already felt like she was getting acceptance for being trans and now she seeks to be accepted for being a hyperhuman as well and possibly find others similar to herself. Janelle feels this is probably karma for being such a bitch and wants to better herself and reinvent who she really is. So at the moment she's living in hiding and staying away from tourist and popular spots.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

X-Men: The New Era

| NOTES: |

Can't go wrong with a meat lovers pizza with pepperoni, sausage, bacon, etc.

[Bigg Slamm]

| NAME(S): |

Anthony James Sweetwater​

| ALIAS(ES): |

Tony, Jimmy, AJ, Sweet Tea, The Borg​

| D.O.B.: |

June/5/1991

| AGE: |

24

| SEX: |

Male​

| SEXUALITY: |

Bisexual with homosexual tendencies

| APPEARANCE: |

Height: 6ft 4in
Weight: 189
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Slate Grey
Other Attributes: Wyvern tattoo across his chest, each ear pierced once on lower lobes with diamond studs, and has a gnarly scar on his stomach that derives him of a belly button.​
Clothes: Has a tendency to wear darker shades of colors. Some of his favorite colors to wear are; blacks, reds, greens, purples, and the ocasional brown. Polos, slacks, and loafers are his favorite styles, but tries to stay fashionable when needed. Never is without a pair of Beats by Dre on his head or around his neck. Has quite the large hat collection with a variety of styles.

| GENUS: |

​Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Vulcan

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Abilities

Technology Manipulation: Through the production and manipulation of a mysterious mercury like substance Anthony has the ability to manipulate, understand, interface, and control technology. The substance penetrates and takes over the existing electrical components allowing him complete control. Through this he can choose to use the technology in a number of ways. He can deconstruct and reconstruct said object into another machine, or even combine two machines that one would never think can be able to be put together and make a whole new machine. Another use is he can interface with devices with computing components essentially hacking into its hardware and controlling its software with just a thought. Also through the right amalgamation of parts he can essentially "revive" outdated or outmoded technology.

Limitations: Anthony must be in constant contact with his constructs for the duration of their transformation or they will completely fall apart. Same goes for when he interfaces with computers. If he is interrupted before he has a chance to recall his ether, as he calls it, the computer will short out and be rendered useless. His constructs also need their own power source. For he has a very short battery life he can provide. So he must either assimilate a power source or through the help of an eletro-type Mars class Hype conduct the energy needed. This has limits too because the Mars class has to be careful with the power they provide. Too much, like giving a light bulb the energy to power a car, and Anthony can short out and possibly die. Also the larger and more complicated the construct the longer it takes to assemble. Although he can transmorph and combine machines his constructs are limited to the parts provided. For example (thank you @Tyler for the reference) Anthony can't turn a clock and a toaster into a firearm. At least not until he has the right parts.

Weaknesses: As stated above Anthony has a short battery life that he can provide his constructs. Should that deplete his powers are rendered inert for a short while as he reboots. Should it deplete to fast he will pass out completely and the reboot time is practically doubled. Although he can conduct electricity a strong EMP can also render his power inert adding on the effect of debilitating migraines which makes his conscious reboot time longer. His limit of touch makes him a sitting duck so unless he is in his mechsuit any ordinary bullet could shut him down permanently. Which leads into his next weakness. His humanity. He is prone to disease, poison, injury, and any other illness humans are. His kryptonite is lead in more ways than obvious. Anything to do with lead he cannot touch, or even be near in large enough amounts. It saps his powers, battery, and his life if exposed long enough.

Skills:
Can cook like a pro.
Even without his powers he is a top notch hacker.
A mechanical engineer at heart he can see the potential for constructs in everyday things.
Due to his stint in the boy scouts he has high wilderness survival skills.
Black belt in Judo and Jiu-jitsu.
Extremely fit and in shape, can run a mile in five minutes and can hardly be winded. (Hardly noteworthy due to existance of Mercury-Class hypes, but he is still proud of it.)

| BACKSTORY: |

Anthony was born to Antoinette and James Sweetwater in Indianapolis Children's Hospital on the fifth of June, 1991. It was raining hard. A freak storm of biblical porportions passed over the city as Anthony came into this world. It seemed with every contraction the storm got worse until finally Anthony's first cries echoed through the maternity ward. As he finally stopped crying and was laid in his mothers arms the sun peeked through the clouds and shone through the window greeting the newborn. With a delivery like that anyone would say the child was special. Oh if they only knew how right they were. Anthony was early for everything. Sitting up on his own, walking on his own. and even his own birth. He was two weeks premature. Developing fast left him with a difficult childhood. No one wanted to play with the five year old who looked liked he was eight or nine, but still acted like a normal five year old.

Lucky enough when he was ten years old he found his niche. His parents signed him up for boy scouts, and thats where he made his first real friend. The two of them were inseperable. They went after the same badges, fought over the same toy, and wore the same clothes. All was fine and dandy until the year Anthony turned fourteen. It was an unnaturally hot day in September and the air conditioner was broke. Anthony and his friend was hanging out after school waiting for their moms ,who worked together, to get off work. Anthony was especially beat by the heat and went to the fridge for a soda. Upon opening the door he wished out loud that they had air conditioning. His wish was granted by the fridge transforming into an air conditioning unit. Spilling the contents every where as it transformed Anthony freaked out calling attention to his firend. Who when seeing the after math asked what happened. Anthony answered that he thought he had just turned the fridge into an air conditioner.

The friend promptly called his bluff to which Anthony then wished out loud for a fridge. When it didn't happen Anthony was confused. That's how it worked before. He then leaned on the machine to look at it closer. He then learned he had to touch the machine. Seeing the air conditioner change back into a fridge Anthony's friend was shocked. Anthony promptly told him he told him so. For the next hour Anthony and friend tested what he could change. Thier moms came home to the fridge an air conditioner, all the tvs in the house morphed into one, and the kids playing with highly modified rc cars. This was not a good day for Anthony as much as he thought. He saw a cool new toy, but his parents saw a freak condition. Doctor after doctor couldn't tell what it was and Anthony's parents were starting to get scared. Not knowing what to do they thought of putting him in an institution. To which a representative of PRCU agreed. An educational institution of course. It was there Anthony spent the rest of his educational years.

While in PRCU he was taught how to control his power and how to defend himself. He made lots of friends there, and even some enemies. He couldn't believe even among outcasts you could be an outcast. When he came out about his sexuality when he was eighteen he was surprised to find out tolerance was still a rare commodity in those days. He had quickly become depressed and angry that so much hate could be in the hated. A professor noticed the changes in the usually upbeat and happy go lucky teen and counseled Anthony through it. Anthony was once again eternally grateful for the PRCU and it's staff. He went on to graduate early and with honors, although not even close to top of the class, but still top fifty. His celebration was short lived though when PRCU was exposed and shutdown. Anthony escaped back to the States and returned home to Indiana. There he found no respite either as his parents denied him after hearing what kind of monsters Hypes could become under the right people. They wanted nothing to do with him. After days of useless pleading Anthony left to make his own life.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Ever since PRCU was shutdown Anthony has been searching the country for purpose and possibly some answers. Finding odd jobs here and there he would also help anyway he could. Homeless shelters, underground hype coalitions, and even volunteer firefighting, he helped. That's what he does, help. So if he can eventually help the PRCU re-establish and gain political footing he'd do whatever it took. Even if he had to become one of those infamous vigilantes. He could see the draw to it. Sometimes the police have their hands full and can't focus on more than what they got. Can't blame a hype for wanting to help. Just blame the bad hypes who abuse their powers. Anthony didn't wholly agree on the PRCU's stance on vigilantes, and how they dealt with the rogue hypes, but they helped him through two of his most difficult times in his life so it was his turn to help them. Recently he heard of a convoy in Louisiana not that long a drive away from his current home in Mobile Alabama. Heard they were looking for some kind of "sanctuary" for hypes. Well if they'd have him he'd be happy to help, and if along the way he can find clues on how to help PRCU return so be it. Strength in numbers right?

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

Renji from RWBY: The Last Dawn by OneWayOut

Renji Yamada - Serenity's Edge Monestary - Two Days Ago

Clash, clang, boom. The sounds of fighting reverberated through the garden. Two men battling it out in the center of a large makeshift arena. One man was young, tall, and defending blow for blow against an older shorter man. The movements were quick as lightning and flowed like water in a stream. It would seem like the elder had the upper hand, but one would be wrong. The young man soon retaliated with a flurry of wicked blows. The elder dropped to his knees and did something quite particular. He smiled. "Renji, my son, you make me proud. All those years of believing in you have finally paid off. As a father I am sad to see you go, but as your headmaster I couldn't be anymore excited." He said as he stood. Renji helped him up then pulled his father in for a hug. "I will miss you too father. I promise to write and send gifts of my travels." Said the young man.

"I will hold you to it. I also want you to show those city dwellers us country folk are not as weak as they think we are. Remind them that we were founded by one of their adored Huntsman, but most importantly you take care of yourself. I love you son." Admitted Renji's father. The young man chuckled relinquishing the embrace then said, "I will father. I love you too." The two of them then bow at each other then at the eastern horizon. A show of honor to each other and to the gods for a good fight. Before stepping off the arena they give each other one last hug. They walked together in meaningful silence to the entrance of the monestary where a Jeep was waiting for Renji. The pair stopped at the large wooden gateway. Bowing once again to each other they looked to each other with tears in their eyes. Renji nodded and his father smiled giving him a thumbs up.

With that Renji made his way to the Jeep and and likewise to the pretigious Beacon Academy.
_____

Renji Yamada - Beacon Courtyard - Monday Morning

Renji thankfully stepped off the airship happy to feel firm ground under his wooden sandles once again. He had never ridden one before and it just made his fear of heights much worse. After a long moment bent over gathering his center of gravity back he stood strait, adjusted the large ebony case on his back, straitened his straw sunhat, and made his way with the crowd into the courtyard proper. They all passed a fountain then split off into their own directions. Looking down at the scroll he had been given by the school representative at the airport his face scrunched up in confusion. He had never seen let alone used any piece of technology like this. Scratching at his temple he walked off blindly while examining the thing.
This was a mistake on his part. He soon bumped into another student who quickly began berating him and telling him to watch where he was going.

Renji was quickly bowing and and apologizing sincerely. This was mistake number two. Apartently the female was a city girl through and through and had no idea of outside customs. She then began tearing into him for being condecending and rude. That then was her mistake. "Ma'am I assure you I mean no offense. As for you I believe you should study up on culture this year. Not everyone is out to get you. As the great Atlam said, 'Those who hold themselves higher than others fear their own stature.'" He said in a calm yet commanding voice. The girl and her friends just stared at him like he had spoke in tongues and just walked away mumbling to themselves about how weird he was. Sighing deeply Renji noticed a nearby empty bench. Taking it he unloaded his case and laid it beside him. One to let bygones be bygones he returned his attention to the digital device in his hand.

Pushing the center button as he had been instructed to do by a fellow passenger he jumped a bit startled by it sliding open. The main screen popped up and offered many options. In Renji's mind it was a bit daunting at first, but there was better time to learn than the present. So with a deep breath he started pushing buttons. Screen after screen scrolled by delighting him more and more with each passing one. Soon though he got lost. Unable to return to the main screen he panicked. Pushing buttons at random hoping to find his way. That was his third mistake. Suddenly loud noises were coming from the phone. Some familiar, but most strange and very loud. He has happened to find the ringtone page. Then all of a sudden he dropped the device and gripped at his ears. The tone was a fog horn. A very sensitive frenquency for his damaged ears. "Oh gods please someone make it stop!"

Logan from Pokémon: Kalos Chronicles by Ryuzaki

Logan awoke with the sun that morning. Rolling out of bed he was greeted by his Golett, Oleg. "Good morning bud. You ready to make a new friend today?" Logan asked with a yawn as he stretched. "Golett." Affirmed the automaton pokemon with a nod. "Great. Me too. First let's get some food in us. Can't make friends on an empty stomach." Logan stated as he stood patting Oleg on the head. Getting dressed in his usual attire Logan made sure he had everything. Wallet, check. Backpack, check. Spare clothes, check. He felt like he was forgetting something. That's when Oleg elbowed Logan's thigh lifting up his pokebelt with Oleg's ball attached. "Oh, thanks bud. Sometimes I think I'd forget my own head if it wasn't screwed on." Chuckled logan taking the belt and latching it on around his waist. Oleg made an exaggerated head movement as if rolling his eyes. That is if he had any instead of glowing eye holes. Being a living construct had it's disadvantages. Now ready Logan and Oleg made their way out of the hotel room they had been staying in for the past few days. It had been a while since they last visited Lumiose, and they wanted to sight see before starting their journey.

After checking out the pair walked to the closest cafe and got a bite to eat. Blukberry crepes for Logan, and Kalosian Toast with Nanab Berries and chocolate for Oleg. They enjoyed breakfast then made their way towards Professor Sycamores lab. As they walked they could see others getting ready and heading that direction too. Kids young and old, and some evn with their friends and family making it a whole event. The sight sort of made Logan a touch homesick. He'd been gone a week and already missed his parents. Not letting it faze him much longer Logan shook it off and continued on his way with Oleg in tow. Speaking of Oleg. A small group of youngsters noticed him and started pointing as they oohed and aahed. One even going as far as shouting at his mom he wanted one. Logan just smiled and waved before moving on.

Finally they made it to the lab and noticed how crowded it was. "It's a bit crowded for you to be out bud. I'll let you back out when we are allowed in the sanctuary." Promised Logan taking Oleg's ball off his belt and returning him to it in a flash of red. Stepping into the foyer Logan then made his way to the meeting room. Finding a seat he sat and waited before listening to the assistant introduce herself and explain what was going on. After the speech Logan stepped up to the podium and pocketed some of the provided gear. A holocaster, a pokedex, and five pokeballs. Once inside the santuary Logan let Oleg back out. "Golett?" Cried the ghost type with an aggrevated tone as if asking what took so long. Oleg wanted to meet all the cute fluffy baby pokemon, dang it! "Sycamore's assistant had to explain what was going on. Relax, look." Logan returned by pointing a finger toward the inner part of the sanctuary. Oleg turned and stamped his feet excitedly.

Taking that as his cue Logan began to lead Oleg towards a more forested part of the building. He was feeling like he wanted something green. So a grass type was a best bet to be found in the thicker bush. Looking around Logan could see trainers scooping up pokemon left and right and grew ever more excited. Soon the reached the tree line began searching. Moving branches aside, interupting nests, and shaking out bushes. Their were some cute bug types and a snoozing hoothoot, but nothing stood out. That was until Oleg found something. Making excited grunts he got Logan's attention. "What is it bud? Found something you..." Was all he could get out before he saw the poor thing. A Chespin passed out covered in sweat with a Poison Sting dart lodged in it's shoulder. It must have gotten into it with one of the bug types. Logan scooped it up and carried it to the closest assistant availabe. He didn't have any gear on him he planned on getting that after getting his pokemon. To worried about the little guy Logan sat and waited to see if he would be ok.

Random Scene to Rid My Hands of Excess Energy by Bigg Slamm

Dust fills the air of a busy inner city cross section. To those who survived they remember the sound of an explosion. To those who stayed conscious they remember the sight of two figures. One male and one female. To any of their own kind the sight of two quarreling people knocking each other senseless with the power of a speeding train and surviving was a normal sunday morning. The two forms rival siblings who had long fought for control of the planet had finally decided to end it once and for all. The benelvelent one Marcus and the malevolent one Camille had just fell from their thrones to duke it out one last time. Marcus clad in gold and silver armor blocks and parries strikes from the bronze and iron clad Camille. Watching in fear and awe are the humans of earth who as of sixty seconds ago believed they were the pinnacle of the human condition.

"Come on Brother I know you can do more than that." Laughed the red eyed raven haired Camille as she was parried once again only to be countered hapharzardly into the side of a parked SUV causing immediate irrepairable damage folding it nearly in half under the weight of the godlike woman.

"I know I can too, but I care not to hurt you nor the citizens of this city dear Sister." Called back the fleeing form of Marcus sharing the same red eyes and raven hair of his sister. His words true and honest his plan was to merely distract his sister until they enter an uninhabited swath of land so to minimalize damage to the city and his sister until he could finish this nonsense.

"You and I both know that isn't going to happen Marcus." Growled an agrevated Camille as she recovered from the throw tearing her form from the wrecked SUV. Marcus my have gained their mothers agility, but Camille had inherited their father's strength. Picking up the pile of rubble that used to be a vehicle Camille tossed it as if a baseball towards her running brother.

Hearing the exurtion of his sister Marcus knew she had tossed the truck at him. Sighing he stopped and turned just in time to face the scrap heap barreling towards him. Smiling he mearly closed his eyes and stretched his hands out to the projectile. Just before impact he braced his stance as if to catch it. The used to be car stopped in it's tracks and fell to the side leaving Marcus without a scratch. "Come on Sister I know you can do more than that." Marcus taunted with a smirk.

Camille didn't take it smoothly as he face scrunched into a fierce scowl and turned the same color as her eyes. With great virousity she charged at he brother like a raging bull and threw a devasting haymaker sending the previous chuckling Marcus howling through the air towards a conveinence store. Huffing like said bull proud of her work she called out to her brother. "How's that for more dear Brother?!" He taunted back returning his shit eating smirk.

"Not bad Camille, but definately not your worse. I'm afraid I still have all my teeth." Marcus barked back standing from the rubble that use to be the store front. The customers scared and confused hid behind what they could from the impossibly okay man that just flew through the wall of their favorite grocery. Noticing this Marcus frowned and turned to the cowering people. "I'm sorry about this I promise to pay for repairs. It's a little sibling rivalry. Nothing a good...what do you call it? Knuckle sandwich? Yeah, that. Nothing a good knuckle sandwich can't fix." He said with an assuring smile. As assuring as he could as he heard his sister charging again. Turning he called back, "Sorry again, but I got to go."

Meeting his sister in the middle of another cross section he tackled her to the ground causing a small crater in the blacktop. Mounting himself over her he began dropping clublike fists down towards her face grunting syllables with each swing. "Why. Won't. You. Learn? Humans. Are not. Subserviant. To. Us?" He asked a long unanswered question.

Ever since the beginning of recorded human history Marcus and Camille's kind(often times called gods, angels, demons, aliens, and many other names) have watched over and protected the human race. Often regarded as miracles or acts of gods their people rarely interfered with human history. However their were those rare envious few who truly believed they were the gods the humans claimed them to be and so believed the humans were to serve them. Camille who had been first born to their father who had no brothers was raised as a son and to the distain of their mother taught this rediculous doctrine. Marcus however was protected and taught by his mother that they were the true servants. To protect the humans from chaos, catastrophy, and disaster.

These two planes of thought had been feuding for centuries among their people. The debate has finally culmanated to a head between Camille and Marcus both available for next in line for the head of Family. Camille being first born and Marcus being firstborn son were both qualified.

Blocking blow for blow Camille grunted and hissed between clenched teeth. "When will you learn they are lesser than us? They are weak, ignorant, and scared. As they should be. To serve higher beings like us." She said finding an opening in Marcus' offense and kicking him off of her.

Marcus righted himself mid air and stood readying himself for his sister's counter attack. "No that is exactly why we should protect them until they are ready to protect themselves. We were put here to serve not subject. They are a beautiful race and deserve to live in peace." He rebutted as his sister began her barrage of powerful strikes.

Camille laughed heartily. "Ha! Don't make me laugh. How can they live in peace if all they do is squabble among themselves over petty things?" She responding in a cutting tone as she swung pinpoint punches and kicks aiming to disable her brother.

Marcus scoffed in pity. "Are we no different? Are we truly the best example right now for an already on edge race? They are not ready to know about us, but now it is to late. Because you want to play priness and can't wait your turn." He said with an equally cutting tone aimed at his spoiled sister. He knew he'd regret it later, but he knew Camille got sloppy when she was upset. She also unfortunately got stronger.

To be Coninued...

| NOTES: |

*Don't know how to link posts so I hope hiders are ok.
*Meatlovers
*Can't sing worth a damn due to being tone deaf. (Childhood Accident)

[Wade Wilson]

”I never wanted any of this.”

---

---

| NAME(S): |

Joshua David Kain​

| NICKNAME(S): |

Josh

| D.O.B.: |

06/02/1986 (Done in DD/MM/YYYY format)

| AGE: |

30​

| SEX: |

Male​

| SEXUALITY: |

Bisexual, but steers more towards men.

| APPEARANCE: |

Joshua stands at 5’9”, with a weight of 165 lbs. He has short, brown hair, that no matter how many times he attacks it with gel, or a comb, always manages to end up as a messy flop on the right side of his face. He also has bright, crystalline blue eyes, with a piercing intelligence to them, that masks his ice cold hatred against the world. His most prominent feature, however, isn’t actually physical - it’s his voice. It has a cold smoothness to it, like running your hand against a perfect pane of glass, and is also rather calming, as though you were near the crystal clear springs of a forest. This seems to calm people, and they often say things to him that they’d normally think twice about revealing.

When it comes to tattoos, Josh only has two: a fallen angel tattoo located on the top of his right arm, and a wolf tattoo in the center of his chest.

As for clothes, he can often be seen wearing crewneck t-shirts with flannel hoodies, or (if it’s warm) denim jackets. These are paired with cargo pants, fabric jeans and any other casual pants he can find. He’s found that darker clothes grant him more concentration, ipso facto making him able to utilise his powers much easier. It also grants his body less strain when using said powers. He doesn’t know why darker clothes work like this, but he figures it’s because of something to do with being a Hyperhuman.

| GENUS: |

​Hyperhuman

| CLASSIFICATION: |

MERCURY

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

ABILITIES

There are multiple abilities that Josh benefits from under the MERCURY classification.
Accelerated Perception
Josh’s mind and senses process information at such speeds that time appears to have slowed down, allowing him to perceive what would normally be moving too fast, and respond accordingly. This allows him to dodge bullets, catch flies in mid-air, dodge and maneuver around complex attacks, catch falling objects, block detriments, etc. Also, when he’s alerted or alarmed, his senses sharpen, and he can smell, hear, see, and feel things a normal human wouldn’t be able to.
Biological Alteration
Josh is able to alter his cells, tissue and muscle, and thus make himself stronger. This also allows him to heal wounds and regrow tissue at a faster rate than other humans. It differs from shapeshifting in the way that he cannot alter all of his cells at the same time, nor can he keep them all sustained at the same time.
Intangibility
Joshua is able to move through objects and ignore most physical effects in his way by making his own particles able to move between other particles, and sometimes by vibrating his molecules into a new quantum frequency.

LIMITATIONS & WEAKNESSES

■ If he attempted to alter all of his cells at the same time, he would lose his structure and become one big blob. His organ systems would also cease to function, starting with his respiratory system shutting down, and ending with his skeletal system collapsing.
■ When intangible, he cannot move through objects made of organic matter.
■ A SATURN-Type Hyperhuman would be able to render his Accelerated Perception useless if they sped up his perception of time itself.
■ Despite having accelerated perception, he cannot sense things out of his peripheral vision, meaning that an attack from behind would catch him off guard. However, using a non-silenced pistol would alert him, thus sharpening his senses.

| BACKSTORY: |

They tell you that when you grow up, you can be anything. A firefighter, a police officer, a paramedic, hell, even a lorry driver. All I wanted was to be successful; to own a company. But, instead, I ended up with these… powers. Who am I? I’m Joshua David Kain, the man who regrets everything. I was born in Los Paraíso, to Robert and Marissa Kain. I wasn’t like other kids - I had aspirations, and a longing for success. In school, I always detached myself from everyone else, as they all played on their Super Nintendos, Game Boys and Mega Drives. But they left me be, so that was a plus. I considered myself to be more mature and intellectual, deeming work to be important if you wanted to achieve anything in life. My grades were always above the rest, and some students looked up to me, desiring to follow in my footsteps. The others tried to steer them down the other path, with some of them succeeding. But those who stayed faithful would’ve achieved quite a lot. I don’t really know how much they did achieve, all I know is that they wouldn’t have gotten to my level of achievement.

In high school, however, something terrible happened. It was a regular day - the older kids were running around, throwing paper everywhere and being jackasses, when one of them grabbed a bottle full of water and threw it at me. I braced myself for impact, and the inevitable black eye it would garner me. However, it didn’t hit me at all. Time seemed to slow down, and I instantly reached out and snatched the bottle, throwing it back. Time was restored to its usual pace, and it instead hit the asshole. He started running after me, and I legged it, but he caught up with me. And you know what? When he shoved me into the wall, I went right through it. Without a scratch. I was sent home, and my parents deduced that “it was happening”. I questioned them relentlessly, until they finally told me what was wrong - I was a Hyperhuman; a freak with powers.

Enraged, I ran away from home that night. How could they keep that from me? To crush my hopes and dreams, and rid me of my will to live! And they had the audacity to say they had no idea! I would’ve killed myself, had I not been curious to see if there was a cure. I started getting rides from strangers (much to my dismay) and travelling around to find a good place to settle. Had it not been my worry of being convinced to embrace my powers, I would’ve gone to the P.R.C.U. Instead, I continued my life as a hobo, determined to find a cure. My adventures of nearly dying of dehydration and starvation repeated over and over for years, until the year 2014, when Yakob Kowalski started to rant about how all Hypes were monsters. He was right about that, of course, but H.I.T decided to step in and stop him. What if I could’ve talked to him, and gained a cure for my disease? If H.E.L.P hadn’t shut down then, I would’ve shut them down myself.

I continued to roam about more, until word of a Hyperhuman killer sprang up. I would’ve thought of what I could’ve said to communicate with them, but decided it was safer to train my abilities, so I could defend myself. Only the will to stay alive kept me going, and the prospect of someday finding a cure. Then, I heard about convoys going to a supposed safehaven for Hypes. At first, I thought it was just pathetic speculation, but I eventually ended up pursuing this “sanctuary” myself. And so, we are brought to the start of what may become the longest journey ever taken.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Josh never wanted to be a Hyperhuman, but with no evidence supporting a “cure” for it, his only goal is to be safe. His motivation tends to vary, but it’s mainly his will to survive that keeps him going. Sometimes it’s the prospect of a cure ever being eventually developed that wills him on, too.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

It’s just another day for John in Requiem
Prophis learns about food in The Corrigan School for Advanced Learning and Development
Cole waits for his mission in Project Rehab

| NOTES: |

■ Joshua has a Dr. Pepper addiction.
■ He will refuse to be anywhere near someone who’s eating crisp flavours that he doesn’t like. Or any type of food he doesn’t like, for that matter.
■ He takes an unnamed drug that he made himself, that enhances his sight and numbs any pain he’s feeling. Once the effects have worn off he spirals into a strange and peculiar high that makes him feel like he’s a a completely different person entirely, and lasts for thirty minutes to an hour. Afterwards, he passes out. He refrains from using it too much, but tries to write down as much as he can during the high.
■ He will resort to cannibalism if it means he stays alive.
■ Pepperoni. Nothing more; nothing less. No other ones that I like.

[Roman]

| NAME(S): |

Elizabeth Contessa Cane

| NICKNAME(S): |

Goes by Liza. Also known as Helios within the convoy.

| D.O.B.: |

09/13/1992

| AGE: |

23

| SEX: |

Female, She/Her

| SEXUALITY: |

Asexual

| APPEARANCE: |

Liza is a Caucasian woman in her mid-20's, thrown into adulthood by the world but still learning her place in the universe. She stands 5'10 high and weighs 115lb. Her hair is a dark, silky brown, and kept shorn, her eyes a shimmering pale blue. She has angular, arguably-androgynous features, with a strong brow and a slender neck, to compliment the rest of her slim frame.

She has light burning on her right arm, and heavy burns and muscular damage on her left calf, causing the leg to weaken requiring a brace. Her lower neck also sports some light lashes of burn scars.​

| GENUS: |

​Homo-Virium/Hyperhuman

| CLASSIFICATION: |

Mars

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Thermokinesis - The manipulation of heat.

Liza is able to manipulate the residual kinetic energy of ambient atoms and focus them in a central location, where the concentrated heat then creates a sphere of intense and extreme heat which ignites and stabilises itself - for the layman, she pulls heat from her surroundings to create a mini-sun.

Liza is then able to manipulate this sphere - guiding it, throwing it, withdrawing it - and can also change its size. This sphere becomes an extension of herself and is her only tool.

Liza can only create and maintain one sphere at a time - if she wants to create another, she must release the first.
She cannot draw more heat in to build into an existing sun - each new sun is fixed in intensity.
She cannot manipulate heat in any other way than the creation of her suns.
She can change the size of an existing sun, though doing this affects its intensity, decreasing further the greater the sun grows, and increasing the smaller it becomes.
She cannot maintain a sun while unconscious.
She cannot create a sun without any/enough ambient heat.

Liza is not immune to the heat her suns give off, or any heat source in general.

Due to her effectiveness revolving around wielding her sun, Liza has practiced herself in gymnastics and acrobatics, keeping herself agile, flexible, and light on her feet. She has also taught herself some tolerance to heat due to the temperatures her power forces her to deal with, but she still burns as easily as anyone else.

| BACKSTORY: |

Baby girl, bald, born September, 1992. Elizabeth Contessa - mother's and father's choice respectively. Cane, old family, bad connotations - infighting, murder. No one's choice. To be Lizzy for her first eleven years, Liza thereafter until now. Contessa isn't brought up. Raised by loving mother and doting father, though the latter's work made him distracted, tense, and the family moved a lot. House after house, city after city, state after state. Difficult to cement a relationship when you're born into drifters. Attempted nonetheless. Succeeded with scarcity, but appreciated what she had: a good family. A proud upbringing.

Twelve years until they settled; Liza was a fresh start for a 'grown up girl'; her own words. Middle school was finally stable; time now for crushes and bullying turning into pressured kisses. Liza liked boys, seceded to the expectations of her peers and parents. It wasn't until four years down the line that Liza realized there was a growing schism between her and the teenagers around her; cooties were still cooties to her, heavy breaths and fumbling hands unwanted, though often attempted. Insistence plagued her: insistence of her parents that she 'just hadn't met the right man yet'; insistence of her friends that she just wasn't doing it 'the right way'; insistence of boys that they could be the one to 'make it feel good'. Eventually, it was just the insistence that she wasn't normal - that a switch inside her simply hadn't been flipped 'on'. Liza had accepted it, sought emotional attachment instead. Her desires seemed to be brushed aside by the apparent sacrifice fulfillment would entail. Eventually, boys stopped trying. They knew she was weird. They knew she didn't have what they wanted. And when the boys stopped bothering, all of a sudden Liza found she had little to talk about with friends. Instead, she sought out the like-minded, those with preferences that deviated from the accepted societal norm. She found them easily, but somehow, her own deviation was still an anomaly, still bizarre and incomprehensible. It was made invisible, dismissed. She had no place at their meetings, in their community. She was weird to them, too.

All of a sudden, Liza's friends stopped too. Middle School continued and finished with a dull taste in Liza's mouth; High School offered little more to her palate. And so it was that Liza came to and passed through her adolescence, an event that marked her abnormal, cast a dividing line between her and her peers. There was scare else that could separate her further - but it happened regardless. The universe cares not for small odds.

Hyperhuman. There have been few such divisive terms in Mankind's history, but it is arguable that the recent emergence of a better human being has been perhaps the single most controversial event in world history. And yet Liza, at young 19, found herself thrust into these annals of time. Homo-Virium, Mankind version 2.0. Suns, she created. Heat focused into balls of fire. Scary. Dangerous. Thrilling, to a young Liza with little else to do in her free time. She was impressive, distinctive. Hyper-humanity was not invisible. The world would be forced to notice her.

And notice her it did. A lot of burns, in the early testing, young probing. Before the suns became a regular occurrence. Her first sun was a lesson Liza would not soon forget; the brace that helps her walk will ensure that alone. Other scars keep other lessons constant. Her suns are stable now, reliable. But her self-made injuries did nothing to stay the objections to her potential danger; her parents became afraid. Her peers stopped calling her 'weird', began calling her 'freak'. There was no greater barrier to cast between Liza and her peers, her elders, her youngers. Her parents loved her - but they did not accept her. And so it was until graduation.

Then the convoy arrived. Bands of Hyperhumans drawn together for support. Truly, this was Liza's community, more than her parents, more than her peers, more than the LGBT groups. It was with only a few tears she left her home to travel with this new family; it was with speed they fled yet more opponents to their existence.

Liza remains with the convoy today. They are the only circle she has ever truly been part of; the only people she can trust not to question her. She is both Liza and Lizzy to this new family; she is Contessa; but most importantly, she is Helios. Hyperhuman.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

BELONGING - Liza's asexuality has, by and large, led to being alienated by old friends who don't understand (or accept) her sexuality, and crushes who, despite romantic feelings being present, feel a relationship is unmanageable without the sexual element. Liza sought refuge in her minority, but found the LGBT scene itself to be dismissive in its reception of those on the aro/ace spectrum, leading Liza further afield in search of somewhere to fit in. Her Hype status only compounded this issue as it is, to Liza, another wall between 'her' and 'normal people'. With no friends remaining, the convoy is all she has left to feel like home.

SAFETY - Liza's ability has proven itself to be exceptionally dangerous - reckless and impracticed use when she was younger and still exploring resulted in property damage around their home, as well as bodily damage to herself: minor burns on her lower neck remind her why she keeps her hair short these days, and the brace around her leg - needed after her very first sun resulted in terrible burns, muscle damage and scarring, weakening the leg - is a constant reminder about how destructive her powers really are. Liza knows that she is not the only hype whose ability serves little practical, non-offensive purpose, but neither does it secure complete invulnerability against those anti-Hype persons who would bring harm upon her and her loved ones. Perhaps within the convoy, she will need her ability a little less, and can receive a little more tutoring - or at least find a hype that can heal.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks - Aava Arkham comes home to Larissa.
Vigilance: Blood & Justice - Det. Rustin Wolfe picks up a new case.
PRCU: Institute for the Extraordinarily Gifted - Team Blackjack's wild card, Minnie Ripper, outdoes herself - to self-suffering results.

| NOTES: |

-Liza's Leg Brace.
-Wears a removable pressure bandage on her burnt arm to relieve some existing pain.
-Anchovies.

[Blandman]

| NAME(S): |Nicholas Turner

| NICKNAME(S): | Nick, Turnip, The Star Spangled Speedster (a name he insists on using but which has no chance of catching on)

| D.O.B.: | 25/09/1992

| AGE: | 23

| SEX: | Male

| SEXUALITY: | Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: | Standing at a perfectly sensible 5'10", Nick seems to be one of those people who's constantly smiling, whether it's a big cheeky grin or just a sly cock of the mouth. In fact it can be pretty annoying. Physically he's nothing to write home about, appearing to be quite thin, yet this appearance does a disservice to the great athletic shape that Nick is in. His hair seems to be permanently stuck up one way or another despite all attempts by gravity to bring it back down.

When being just his plain old normal self, Nick sports a blue-checked shirt, with a light grey t-shirt underneath, tatty old blue jeans and brown trainers. hen 'suited-up', however, he dons a pale green flight suit, an old fashioned bomber jacket, a cream flight scarf, a set of ski goggles and a baseball helmet sporting a stars and stripes pattern, as well as gloves and pads on his knees and elbows.

| GENUS: | Homo-Virium

| CLASSIFICATION: | MERCURY

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: | Nicholas is fast. Really fast. Able to do 0-60mph in 8 seconds and reaching a maximum speed (as far as he's aware) of 213mph, Nick likes to consider himself the fastest human alive until proven otherwise. This abnormal acceleration extends to punches, kicks and other movements, giving Nick's attacks more power than otherwise expected.

This super-natural speed also extends to his reactions. Able to snatch an arrow from mid-air and dodge most blows from slow-mos (his name for non-super fast people), Nick's heightened reaction time is almost a necessity for him to be able to travel at such high speeds without crashing horribly into an unexpected object or person.


Limitations: Although Nick can accelerate to amazing speeds, he needs time to build up any kind of real pace, being subjected to the same forces of air friction as everything else. In total it probably takes him just under a minute to reach his current maximum speed.

Whilst Nick is extremely fit, he is also as susceptible as anyone else to fatigue and exhaustion. His current level of fitness could be compared with a 400m sprinter, and he's always trying to improve.

Though he can turn corners quicker than most cars or motorcycles, Nick still needs to slow down enough to do so, and needs to take steps to counter the effects of G-Force, hence the use of a flight suit to assist in this and prevent his blood circulation from being negatively impacted by the fast corners he takes.

Weaknesses: The speeds that Nick travels at are a constant strain on his body, and though he has gradually started to adapt over time, he is still causing havoc to his muscles every time he runs at any great speed, causing them to tear quite badly on a number of occasions. Such feats of speed also put a massive strain on his completely normal human heart, meaning he has to take care not to have a cardiac arrest.

Nick's ability also requires him to consume vast amounts of food in order to replace the massive energy he expends on running. This goes hand-in-hand with the fact that Nick simply cannot stay still for very long, always needing to burn off energy because of his ability. He can become so restless that he can't sleep, and if made to stay still for too long he starts to shake violently. He's never been allowed to stay still too long for fear of what might happen.

| BACKSTORY: | Born to a loving mother (Kathryn) and father (William) in Chicago, Illinois, Nicholas was provided with a safe and happy childhood along with an older brother and sister. Being the baby of the family, Nick was always protected the most, even by his older siblings...sometimes. His father was an all-round real American hero, a fighter pilot for the US Air Force, a star athlete during his days at school and a great believer in trying your best at everything. And like many young boys Nick was desperate to emulate his father. Though he always had to spend long bouts away from home during tours, Nicholas was always extremely excited to see his father when he returned. In the mean time his mother worked as a bank manager nearby, so they had a pretty comfortable life to say the least.

Being an enthusiastic and easy-going kid, Nick made friends easily at school and had a natural way to put people at ease with his genuine manner. His honesty could sometimes turn into bluntness, but it was very rare for Nick to intentionally hurt someone's feelings.

From a young age Nick had always loved to run. Day in day out he'd go charging around the playground and then do the same when at home. So naturally when he went into High School the young speedster joined the track and field team, already able to beat kids two grades above him in the sprint. He always competed in the championships, and always seemed to win. He looked set to be a future Olympic star. Until, aged 15, Nick went fast during a race. Too fast. In the 400m sprint he set off at a blitzing pace and accelerated so quickly that he had finished the race before any of the others were even halfway around. Rather than cheers the field suddenly fell into a state of silence. Confused and scared at what had just happened, Nick ran off before anyone could approach him, and just as before he set off faster than was humanly possible.

Later on his father found him sitting in the park which they had visited frequently. Nick was still visibly shaken, but his father didn't seem fazed at all. After convincing Nicholas to come home. About a week after (with Nick staying off of school), an unexpected visitor arrived. Someone from an institute called the Pacific Royal Collegiate and University. After a long discussion, it was agreed that Nick should attend for his own safety, and to help him develop his new strange abilities.

For over 6 years Nick honed his skills and trained like he'd never trained before, gradually developing his ability. Although people sometimes found his constantly upbeat personality a little grating, Nick made a good network of friends, whilst staying in contact with all his family back home as often as he could. It took a while to settle in properly, but eventually Nick felt happy at PRCU. He felt like he was really fitting in and that he could push himself to his limits.

And it was here where Nick was located when the whole fiasco with Kowalski kicked off, not too long before Nick was meant to graduate once and for all from PRCU. Forced out of PRCU with everyone else, Nick was lost for what to do. So the natural thing was to return home. But having being ousted as a Hype, it became abundantly clear that he was just causing an unnecessary risk to his family. Without telling them he one day took as much as he could, including one of his dad's older flight suits, and left his home for good.

Not one to stay idle, Nick travelled across the country a lot, laying low and picking up the odd jobs here and there. But something in him always compelled Nick to try and help those around him, and he couldn't help but get involved in issues which weren't his own. He'd only be able to stay in one place for a few weeks or so before getting involved in local affairs, donning his ridiculous outfit and going out to tackle crime himself, despite all the PRCU training and lectures which had been given about the harm which vigilantism could do. But Nick simply couldn't help himself. If he couldn't use his powers to help others, then what was the point?

After a year and a half of this, Nick caught word of a group of similarly outcast Hyperhumans slowly gathering together. Desperate to be amongst those whom he could identify with and feel safe around, Nick set off as fast as he could. Arriving a couple of weeks ago, he has been acting as an unofficial scout for the group and checking that the road ahead is all safe and clear.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |Nick is always striving to be better, faster and braver. He's constantly terrified that one day that he'll be too slow or too late to save someone he cares about. Having never lost anyone that he loves, Nick is desperate to make sure it doesn't happen if he can help it.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |
roleplayerguild.com/posts/1394749
roleplayerguild.com/posts/937789
roleplayerguild.com/posts/455158

| NOTES: | Nick has a tendency to unnecessarily salute with two fingers in casual situations.
Still does his best to call home as often as possible to catch up with everything at home.
Favourite pizza topping is another pizza. But also meatballs.

[An Outsider]

"If experience has taught me anything, it's that this is going to get a whole lot worse before it even starts to get any better."

| NAME(S): |

​Jon Turner. It's not his real name, merely the latest of his many pseudonyms

| NICKNAME(S): |

He's gone by a lot of different names over the centuries, mostly by necessity, and while he's been fond of some of them he's unlikely to share them with anyone now. Leave the past in the past, that's Jon's motto, even if he struggles to live by it.​

| D.O.B.: |

03/15/1820

| AGE: |

195

| SEX: |

Male​

| APPEARANCE: |

The first thing somebody will notice upon meeting Jon is that he's big. Real big. Bigger than just about anyone else in the room. Now if you were to measure him he only just tops 6'2", and while that is tall it isn't enough to warrant the sheer sense size that he extrudes. Likewise, while broad and brawny, this single fact still doesn't equal to scope of largeness that he encapsulates. It's something indescribably that leads one to surmise he is gigantic, a primal aura that surrounds and suffuses him, making him seem to tower head and shoulders over other people.

He keeps his curly hair and beard short, the once uniform black now shot with iron grey, a fact that bothers him not a jot. In fact, he feels the grey makes him look distinguished, though he'd never admit out loud to such a superficial fancy. His features appear to be chiselled out of granite, and he tries to show just as much emotion. He isn't a man who typically allows himself to outwardly express his inner feelings, or at least not in any ostentatious manner, instead endeavouring to affect a casually impassive air, though the act is a flimsy one, as the years have forced him to admit that he is a man ruled by his passions. This shows as cracks in his cool façade, the clench of a jaw as something angers him, the twitch of an eyelid when he has to deal with fools, the twist of the lips as he fights the urge to smile.

He always comes dressed to the nines, preferring understated tailored suits and jackets of dark colouring. He is partial to matching his suits with a suitable waistcoat, a practical decision as much as cosmetic one, as a waist coat allows a man more pockets to conceal things. He affects no jewellery or sartorial adornments other than expensive belts, and an old fashioned pocket watch. He prefers riding boots to shoes, a quirk he's held ever since he's youth.

Runic tattoos adorn the backs of his hands, pectoral muscles, and shoulder blades. The few times he's met other Magni they've assumed they served as conduits to better focus his powers. The truth, however, is far more mundane. He got them while drunk.

| GENUS: |

​Magni

|CLASSIFICATION: |

Morteni

| ABILITIES/SKILLS: |

Wields the power of a venerable and practised Magi, though it's with the ruinous skills of a Morteni that he finds he truly excels. He has a few preferred tricks, such as carving fell runes into the caps of his bullets before firing them, guaranteeing the death of anyone struck by them, or placing hands upon a person and draining their vitality until they are nothing more than a withered husk, though it should be noted he is capable of snatching a beings life force without physical contact, it's just much easier that way.

His absolute favourite technique though, the one he uses more than any other, is actually one of his least flashy. It is to merely remind his victims of their mortality, to use they're own specific fears of the grave against them in their own personal hells. For instance if one man is afraid of drowning, then Jon will lock him in a grim fantasy of being lost at sea during a storm, the man's strength gradually giving up in the face of the tempest, left with no other option than to slowly succumb to the cold grasp of the sea, and to sink down into the ink dark waters, lungs burning as he realizes there's no other way out, nothing else awaiting him than a watery grave. Jon doesn't even need to know what these fears are to use this power, he merely serves as the nudge that sends the victim spiralling into their own nightmares. The effects this has own people is myriad, but mostly they are left babbling in terror, lost in their own delusions. Those of weak constitutions have even died from being subjected to this horror.

However Jon hasn't really utilized his powers as a Magi in decades, and as such has become 'rusty'. Where once his spells would roll of his tongue with all the grace of the familiar name of a lover, now he stumbles upon the words like a student learning a new language. His halting magecraft is not just as simple a thing as being out of practice though, it's more down to his own apprehension about using his own powers. Too many times in the past has he tried to utilize his gifts for good, only for it to end in disaster. He has come to see the Vis as a drug, and his use of it akin to a junkie giving in to his habit. The powers of a Morteni he finds especially intoxicating, and especially detrimental to his better judgement.

It should probably go without saying that he has almost no affinity for Sani magic’s, as manipulating the Lux to heal and protect runs completely contrary to his Morteni sensibilities. He knows just enough to seal a cut or set a broken bone, but the act of doing such is incredibly taxing.

Has fought in two wars, and spent years performing as both a law man and a bounty hunter. Knows how to fight, track and shoot. He was once an accomplished quick draw.

Believes himself to have quite a deep understanding of the human condition, though he's willing to admit that he's quite the cynic, and constantly views other with a jaded eye.

Can play the guitar reasonably well.

| BACKSTORY: |

Born to African American slaves in early nineteenth century Virginia.

Lives the life of a slave for nine years, until his father joins Nat Turner's ill fated slave rebellion in 1831. The rebellion is crushed, Jon's mother, who never formerly joined the rebellion is killed to set a bloody warning for the other slaves. Jon, still young and relatively healthy, is spared by his masters, who pragmatically decide they can still get many more years of work from him. Though Jon desires vengeance, he has just witnessed what standing up for oneself actually gets one. He keeps his head down.

In 1835 he see's his chance for freedom, and escapes into the north. Though he would have liked to have extracted some form of revenge from his former owners, he was under no allusions as to his own capablities or the obstacles facing him if he pursued that path, feeling it was wiser to forgo his own desires to escape and earn the freedom his parents had wanted for him, as that would be the truly right thing to do if he was to honour their memories. He would later find out, after finally crossing the Canadian border, that his former owners killed twenty slaves in an effort to find out where he had dissapeared to, not out of any real desire to catch him, but as an effort to dissuade any other slaves from making escape attempts.

While in Canada he meets a man going by the name of Elon Rothfuss. Elon claims to be a Magi, a being able to wield great magic. He goes on to state his belief that Jon is also a Magi. While Jon is initially skeptical, he is eventually won over, and agrees to tutor under Elon. The apprenticeship of a Magi is a long, slow process, but Jon revelled in the power it gave him, after feeling powerless for so long. He showed the beginnings of being a highly talented Magi.

In 1852, Jon becomes restless. He looks at the plight of the slaves and realizes that he now had the power to actually do something about their problems. Elon, however, disagrees, and tries to convince Jon that he isn't quite as powerful as the younger man believes. They fight, going their seperate ways, Jon going south. Jon attempts to free a plantation of slaves, though the attempt goes disastrously. He and the escapees are tracked and caught, Jon being injured by the southern owners and left for dead. He survives, but only barely.

After his first, great failure he retreats north once more, looking for Elon, hoping to make ammends. He never finds him, and is left alone with his feelings of inadequacy. For several years he mopes, ignoring his skills as a Magni to instead work on his skills as a drunkard.

Civil War breaks out in 1961, this proving enough to break depressions hold on Jon. He joins the North and fights through the war.

After the war was won he held many jobs, all the while practicing his magic. At one point he became a sheriffs deputy in a small gold rush town, where he witnessed the towns populac murder a mexican family due to nothing else than racial prejudices. He chose the path of a Morteni, and with his new found powers he slaughtered the towns inhabitants, all 97 of them.

After that he became a bounty hunter, one known for ruthlessly gunning down his marks. That lasted until the turn of the century, when he hung up his guns. He also stopped practicin magic, feeling his skills were too tightly entwined with his Morteni sensibilties to make themselves truly useful in civilian life.

Travelled to Mississipi to become a Delta Blues guitarrist. Recorded one record, though it has very few surving copies today. He married a white girl, and they had a daughter together. White supremicists took umbridge, killed his wife and tried to kill him. They failed, and he extracted swift and terrible justice, though the aftermath made him sick. He realized he was an unfit parent and gave his young daughter up for adoption.

He wouldn't fight again until the forties, when he joined the allied's efforts against Nazi Germany. For once he felt justified in pursuing violent justice, as if anyone deserved to have guns levelled against him it was the Nazis. He took part in D-Day, one of the most horrific engagements in human history. . . and enjoyed it. His savage joy in the face of combat terrified his comrades, and it was the frightened looks in their faces that made him realize that, other by the magic of a Morteni inside him or by some unbalance psychosis in his head, that he held a monster inside. For the remainder of the war he worked hard at tempering himself, never quite succeeding.

As a way to make up for past wrongs he joined the 1960's peace movement, though was never the most commited of members. It was a pipedream, he knew, to end war. Men just enjoyed killing each other too much. He knew that better than most.

Opened a music shop in Pointe Bordeux.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |

Honestly, he doesn't know. Has he decided to hitch his wagon to the hypes in a long overdue quest for redemption, is it out of a dislike to see the rights and freedoms of others quashed by those in power, or is it out of a simple ennui? He suspects rather than being one of the above, it is actually a combination of all three, along with dozens of other smaller motivations. After all, his long years have taught him that men aren't so simple as to be easily boiled done to one simple want or need, and he is under no allusions as to believe himself any different.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |

Before the Dawn Ser Faen of Amor, greatest hero of Amorynthia, is rough as shit.
Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice The Wildcat prowls.
Teen Titans: Divided We Fall Simone never loses her cool.

| NOTES: |

I'm not fussy when it comes to pizza. As long as it doesn't have pineapple I'm happy. Gherkins are always welcome though.