Dropping interest.
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Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...! (Interest Check)
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8 mos ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
S A M A E L
S A M A E L
S A M A E L
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T  _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y Samael "Sam" Isla _________________________________________________________ August 21st, 2007 | 21 | Scottish/Caucasian _________________________________________________________ Single | Male | Pansexual _________________________________________________________ Sacramento | California | United States of America _________________________________________________________ House Lynx | Team 21 - Blackjack C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S T A T S ◼ B U I L D || Athletic, Lean ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Sky Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 179 cm ◼ W E I G H T || 73 kg ◼ S C A R S || Many ◼ T A T T O O S || None ◼ P I E R C I N G S || None ◼ O T H E R || Pronounced canines | C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T To say that Samael had a troubled youth was something of an understatement. With a drug addict for a mother and a father who couldn't care less whether he lived or died, it was a wonder he grew up as a (mostly) functional adult. With no one to rely on for most of his life, Samael was forced to provide for himself. As young as he was, there was little in the way of legitimate work he could access, but with a little bit of luck, patience and eye for detail, he managed to make something of a living for himself. That was how he learnt a simple truth; people were easy to read, and if he could do that well enough, he could use them for whatever he wanted. He lived and breathed walking a tightrope, where the slightest mistake would cost him everything. Failure was never an option. It was a routine. Grueling, but familiar. Exhilarating. When his powers manifested, everything was downhill from there. His parents were never particularly caring at the best of times, but finding out that their son was a Hyperhuman was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Samael was all too happy to cut ties with them after their extreme, hostile reactions. He never looked back after that, except to leave them a parting gift as a final "thanks for nothing". Soon after that, he met Adrian, his current guardian, in the loosest sense of the word. He was decent, unlike Samael's parents. He never spoke about his job and Samael never asked, except to offer help a few times. He only ever knew the bare minimum, but that was enough to let him figure out some things on his own. When he came of age, Adrian proposed the idea of sending him to PCRU, a school dedicated to helping Hyperhumans control their abilities. At first, he was indifferent, but he ultimately agreed, if only to learn to better control his powers. D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C Samael is a difficult person to find in a crowd and often overlooked when he wants to be. He has black, messy hair that he usually keeps short and out of the way when he bothers to do so. Despite his otherwise intentionally unremarkable appearance, his eyes are a vibrant blue, giving away the bare minimum while keeping his true thoughts hidden. Samael possesses an athletic build cultivated from years of acrobatics and running from trouble. His body sports a multitude of scars, both from his rigorous training sessions and from several unfortunate encounters. In terms of style preference, Samael doesn't really have any. He usually dresses in whatever he has that happens to fit the current occasion. He mostly adheres to the school dress code, except for the blazer, which he leaves unbuttoned and sometimes just drapes over his shoulders. Outside of that, however, he tends to favour comfortable clothing that allows him to move freely. He wears few accessories, except for a sapphire necklace gifted to him some years ago. M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y A product of a less-than-stellar childhood, Samael is distrustful towards people, though not in an easily discernable way. Most people who have met him would describe him as 'nice but quiet'. On the surface, he appears to be a stolid, soft-spoken individual with a reserved countenance, though he can easily insert himself into social situations without seeming too out of place. While not an entirely inaccurate description, Samael only ever shows people what they are already looking for instead of what's actually on his mind. He has a morbid sense of humour and enjoys playing mind games with people he feels deserve it. Buried beneath the façade lies a troubled mind with little in the way of true expression. Despite his shifting attitude towards the people around him, he cares more than he usually shows outwardly, in his own way. So far, nothing has happened to peer quite that deep. |
A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || K I N E T I C E N E R G Y M A N I P U L A T I O N __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Exoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Fundamental __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD Samael possesses the ability to absorb and manipulate kinetic energy, otherwise known as the energy possessed by any moving object, which can manifest in many forms. His ability is charged by either generating kinetic energy through any movement he makes or siphoning it from objects or persons around him. Using the stored kinetic energy, he can enhance himself in several ways, such as supercharging his physical and mental processes or accelerating his healing capabilities. His power doesn't need to be active in order to store energy, only to use it. Despite seeming skilful in using his powers, he still has to learn much to become truly proficient. Samael can also transfer kinetic energy from one object to another, turning an object's potential energy into kinetic energy and making it explosive or siphoning kinetic energy from objects/persons around him to slow them down considerably and potentially freeze them. As a result, he is functionally immune to extreme temperatures and impact damage. L I M I T A T I O N S || C A P A C I T Y Every movement he makes or hits he takes charges up his internal battery. However, as with all things, its capacity is finite, and as such, Samael can only hold up to a certain amount of kinetic energy before he is forced to bleed off some of it to prevent overload; a forceful, involuntary discharge that temporarily shuts down his powers. Further complicating the matter is his inability to tell when he's approaching his limit, which also makes it difficult to increase it. W E A K N E S S E S || I M M O B I L I S A T I O N As one would expect of a power intrinsically tied to movement, the lack of such is an obvious weakness. Since Samael's ability relies entirely on energy generated by his movements to function, if he is somehow immobilised and unable to act, his powers are essentially rendered useless for as long as it lasts. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) "Wouldn't you like to know." | S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sleight of hand || Samael is adept at stealing objects right from under people's noses without being noticed. He's also good at concealing things that are on his person with ease. ◼ Observation || Samael is always observing everything and everyone around him to better understand and use them to his advantage. He is good at reading the room and notices a lot of things that most people would usually miss. Conveniently, his skill in this field also helps him misdirect others trying to do the same to him. ◼ First-aid || Samael never had anyone to help him when he was hurt, so he learnt how to do it himself. It comes in handy more than he would like. ◼ Combat || A relatively recent addition to his repertoire, Samael was trained by Adrian in the art of CQC. Mostly by getting his ass beat until the man was satisfied. At the very least, it made him better at taking hits. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Mastermind || Samael is highly intelligent, and he knows well how to use it to his advantage, always thinking several steps ahead and masterfully weaving others into his plans. He adapts easily to surprising situations and thinks quickly on his feet if a plan doesn't go as expected. ◼ Athleticism || Samael is naturally exceptionally agile and acrobatic. He is a master of moving his body the way he wants, which allows him to move quickly and near-silently to bypass obstacles, including people. ◼ Memory || Samael has an exceptionally high capacity for knowledge and finds it nearly impossible to forget anything once he's learnt it. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Uniform || Samael conforms almost entirely to the standard uniform regulations. The sole exception to this is his blazer, which he rarely ever seems to bother wearing properly. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sapphire necklace || A plain necklace adorned at the end with a shimmering blue gem. Samael's first and only gift. It doubles as a beacon in case of emergencies. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Pocket knife || A good quality, reliable knife. Perfect for various tasks. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G |
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?
W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?
I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________"Pass."
W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?
"Aspirations? I can't say I've given that much thought lately. Well.... training is the obvious answer, but I guess that's a bit unimaginative, isn't it? There isn't much else I can say though. I've never been one for lofty ambitions. If anything changes, I'll let you know." There was a momentary pause, "Or not."
I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?
"Change isn't always a good thing, but I guess if I had to choose one thing I'd want to change, it'd be myself, for reasons I'd rather not say. Other than that, there isn't really anything that comes to mind. I'd like to think that's a good thing."
Bridgewater Bank
June 19, 2021
It only took around ten minutes for them to be loaded up and driven to the city bank. They were briefed in great detail on the way there and given a few suggestions on how to run the operation, especially since civilians were being used as hostages. Richter listened without really paying much attention. Not outwardly, at least. He wasn't stupid enough to completely ignore their advice, just kind of. If nothing else though, they were right about one thing; Kintsugi's constructs wouldn't last more than a touch against him, nor would the Cape himself. If only he was allowed to.
Well, anyway, he was still glad their first mission wasn't something boring.
The fact that Blackburn carried around firearms didn't bother him one bit. Guns were only useful if you could hit your target, and it wasn't like he was a stranger to the dangers of a firefight, though this particular experience was new. Usually, he wasn't on this side of it. His power was pretty helpful against weapons too, if all else failed. The advice to treat the gang as if they were going for the kill gave him the makings of an idea. He wondered if he could use that as an excuse....
Hm. That was an idea that required a bit more thought.
Before Richter could decide on a course of action, he noticed something odd. The clone girl's.... clones looked like they were glitching for some unexplained reason. One second they were there and the next, they were gone. Over and over. She didn't seem to be taking the situation very well now they were here. Considering she'd been practically buzzing with excitement back at the HQ, it probably wasn't the robbery that bothered her. In that case, it was most likely the hostages that did it. He wasn't sure why, but she was obviously recalling some pretty bad memories. They had to be bad to evaporate her enthusiasm like that. It was the fastest drop in mood he'd ever seen.
Speculating would only get him so far. At this point, he'd have more success just–
Oh. She was gone.
And so was the pink menace. Rushing ahead without backup probably wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that. Someone who cared more would do that.
With a shrug, Richter climbed out of the vehicle and briefly surveyed the area. The bank's facade was bustling with activity, and he meant that in the loosest sense of the world. Everywhere he looked was filled with police cars and policemen idling around doing fuck all, and pedestrians doing even less. What a useless bunch they were. His eyes wandered up the building; twenty-five enormous stories of glass and concrete. It was one of the biggest buildings he'd ever seen, but he did have to wonder why exactly a bank had 25 floors. Like, what did they even use them all for? It was an utterly irrelevant question but it nagged at him all the same.
Richter's thoughts were interrupted by someone saying something about the hostages.
Oh, right. Hostages.
The grump shared the information his power had provided. It had a lot of assumptions, but it wasn't like he had anything to add at the moment. The hostages being held on a higher floor, if true, was potentially problematic. Getting into the building and through most obstacles was easy enough, but going up? That was a bit harder. The rat-bird offered to carry some of them with him, but he didn't even think about accepting. Not because he couldn't get in from up there, but because he didn't trust it to carry him anywhere.
His eyes trailed up to the highest point of the bank.... Yeah, there was no chance he was getting up there any other way. He wasn't that good. Not yet.
With a sigh, Richter pressed his palm to the front of the bank and focused his senses on his surroundings. The great thing about vibrations was that they were everywhere. Literally. He couldn't focus on everything on a floor at once, but searching for the movements of a human being, even if subdued, wasn't an issue. Any more than that and everything would just start becoming incomprehensible. He hadn't had the chance to practise much yet.
He stepped back from the wall and looked up once again. Well, that confirmed the hostages weren't down there at least. They still had to actually find them though. With that thought in mind, he finally entered the bank, or at least what was left of it. Shattercrash sure did a number on the place. He nonchalantly stepped on shards of broken glass, leaving behind tiny piles of dust in his wake.
Richter glanced over to Decree, who all of a sudden wasn't moving anymore. It was ironic that she'd stopped dead in her tracks almost immediately after telling the clone girl to be careful.
Usually, he wouldn't care what she did but this situation wasn't exactly what he'd call "regular". Getting people killed because you weren't prepared was a weak excuse. All she needed was a light touch to jolt her into action, and since he was the closest to her right now, he decided to take it upon himself to do so. The slightest miscalculation on his part would kill her, but nobody needed to know that.
With more care than anyone could know, Richter flicked Decree on the forehead.
"Pull yourself together, durak."
Protectorate HQ
June 19, 9:08 AM
Val watched Shattercrash's introduction with a modicum of interest in seeing her power in action.
Her powers were pink, too? His decision to refer to her as the Neon eyesore felt ever more validated at the realisation. Who knew he was psychic?
His eyes traced the trail of her energy blast until it hit a wall. Even then, as the kinetic energy dispersed throughout the material of the room, he still kept track of its effects.
Val sensed more than he felt the vibrations of Shattercrash's little demonstration. An ordinary person might have been bothered by it, but that wasn't the case for him anymore. Instead, he was more interested in whatever the material was that the room was made from. It was weird, to say the least. Weird in a way that he couldn't quite understand, yet. There wasn't much he could glean from its capabilities. It was still a bit off-putting how much more his power made him aware of sometimes. Cool, too. If you could get past all the negatives, that is. Eh, it could've been worse. He could have been stuck with–
Suddenly the door was flung open once again, and a new person stepped in. This time, it wasn't a Ward, nor was it anyone Val even vaguely recognised. So, probably not a member of the Protectorate, then. The newcomer introduced himself as the Vice-director of the PRT. His name faded into irrelevance in Val's mind, but something else he said didn't.
Val's fingers paused.
A bank robbery?
.... Maybe this day wouldn't be so boring after all.
That said, the change did require confirmation on something. To that end, Val raised a hand languidly, barely waiting a moment before asking the only question he needed answered.
"So, "excessive force". Is that a thing or...?"
The words left an odd taste in his mouth. He never quite understood what all of the fuss was about. He considered it a job well done as long as the enemy was down and out for the count. That was the miss-job in the end, right? And they were bad guys, too. Still, he'd rather ask now than later be reprimanded for pow–breaking a few too many bones. It wasn't even a big deal anyway; people had like a hundred of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Val noticed the rat-bird had shot up in height significantly. It was practically the size of a building now!
Would he crumble like one too?
Protectorate HQ
June 19, 9:07 AM
Val heard footsteps approaching. Judging by the weight of the steps and their sound pattern, it was probably Nightstalker. He wondered what the senior Cape wanted.
A crisp snap rang out next to him. It might have been loud if he hadn't already been focusing on something else.
"You can sleep later, Richter."
So, that was it. A simple misunderstanding brought on by the fact that his eyes were closed.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Nightstalker," he intoned before shifting slightly to face Axiom and Grandmaster, "But that is just wishful thinking."
Val watched Axiom remove her helmet, revealing most of her face—huh, she had freckles—as she began talking, trying to reassure them about their choices and potential indecision. She was being genuine from what he could tell, which was something, he supposed. It didn't do much to sway his heart either way—if only she'd been there when words actually mattered to him.
The fact she made an attempt was nice, at least.
Grandmaster followed up after her, though his words were more succinct. A simple, harmless statement.
Except for the Neon Eyesore, apparently.
The latest Ward's viewpoint was understandable. The Ward training wasn't exactly useful for Val. He was already better trained than they could ever have made him if he had been inexperienced before. He wouldn't have survived this long if he'd been so incapable as to need to learn these things so late in life. Nothing they taught him was particularly helpful, but then again, it hadn't been very long since he started. The other, less-experienced Wards probably gained a lot more from the training. Not her, though. He could tell that she actually knew how to handle herself.
The same couldn't be said for most of them.
Oh, and the Neon girl also asked about their powers too. It was a good thing since he had no intention of bringing up the subject himself. Though, he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least somewhat interested.
The first person to respond to the question was the cloning girl. Val was already aware of the cloning aspect of her power, but the second part came as a bit of a surprise. That was super useful. Why didn't his power give him a pocket dimension instead of just breaking things? It certainly explained some things. Like where she got that candy she was now offering everyone.
Of course, he wasn't going to accept any. Even he knew not to take candy from strangers.
That cloning ability of hers would make it difficult to take her down since she could be in several places at once. There were quite a few ways she could be put to good use by a better strategist than he.
Val's attention was drawn elsewhere and he watched as the rat-thing grabbed one of the candies that the cloning girl offered and popped it into its.... fur? Did it even have a mouth? It could talk so he assumed so, but he wasn't an expert on whatever kind of biology a rat-thing would have. Its outward appearance wasn't the only thing that was screwed up. Still, Val watched in interest as the creature staggered back as if struck and.... shrank? Huh, that was weird.
The girl in the white dress was the second person to actually reveal her power. According to her explanation, she was a Master with the ability to make people do whatever she said. Her voice cut out the moment she said it, and he had to read her lips to find out the rest. He'd have to address that particular issue posthaste.
Trust making her power more effective wouldn't be a problem though. Probably.
At the very least, she didn't seem too bad, considering she had given them a warning beforehand. It could have been worse.
Anyway, on to the third Ward; the aforementioned giant rat-thing.
He was a Changer with the ability to turn into.... a big ol' rat-thing. Obviously. He also proceeded to list off the advantages his rat-thing form granted him — flight (obviously), super strength (but he hadn't tested it for some reason), sound-muffling fur (and feathers), enhanced sight and hearing, and bird-like talons, but not the ability to turn his head 270 degrees (disappointing). On further thought, he was more of a rat-bird creature than anything else, though that didn't explain the scales. Val did, however, note that the transformation seemed to be tied to his emotional state somehow.
He wondered if the rat-bird had hollow bones like a real bird, too.
The Grump was the next to introduce himself, not that Val cared much for it. He was probably the least interesting of the Wards so far. He was a Thinker, as expected. Val didn't see how giving someone emotional damage was a superpower, but the rest wasn't entirely useless. The Grump showed off his power at work by calling out the weaknesses of two(?) of the other Wards and a part of the password to the admin computer, whatever that was. He even knew about the weirdness of the walls too and–
He just put a knife to his neck.... Huh. This was an odd time for suicide. Then again, was there even such a thing as a good time for self-offing?
Aw. He knew it was just posturing, but it would've been cool to–
A loud laugh cut his thoughts off and drew Val's attention to the girl in the black catsuit. It was a full-on sociopath laugh. He would know; he grew up around them. Her power was also incredibly well-suited to that sort of personality. Being able to change people's morality was something, for sure, especially in the hands of a unique individual like Ethos. He couldn't imagine what it would do to someone like him.
If she could touch him, that was.
The next Ward to make an introduction was the yellow-armoured girl, Hornet. She was a teleporter, with a pinch of invulnerability to go along with it. Neat. He wondered what the range on it was.
After her, no one else spoke up for a few moments, so Val decided to do so himself.
"Guess now is my turn, then," Val straightened on his couch, not quite sitting up yet, "Call me Richter. I can do this."
Val held up the coin he'd been spinning and allowed his concentration to falter for just a moment. In the blink of an eye, the metal turned into dust and drifted away. His glove remained spotless.
He flashed a lopsided smile at his fellow Wards, "I suggest you not get too close. I cannot turn it off."
With his piece said, he fished out another coin from one of his many pockets and began spinning it between his fingers once again.
June 19, Protectorate HQ
8:58 AM
People continued trickling in one after another for some time, but Val paid them little mind, keeping his attention on his own hands. His eyes furrowed as he focused intently. To anyone looking at him, it may seem as if he wasn't paying attention to anything else, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.
Someone said something to him, but he remained unmoved. From the corner of his eye, he took in the appearance of the person addressing him and raised a delicate brow. The newcomer's attire was drab—not like he was one to talk—and seemed to be purposefully made for.... intimidation? Maybe. He'd sit on that for a while. It bore a superficial resemblance to his costume, and similarly, gave no indication as to what his power was. Though, judging by his shifting glances and the way he moved; untrained but attentive and oddly tense, Val assumed it was mentally inclined. It was hard to tell with the get-up he was wearing.
A thinker, maybe?
Whatever it was, he had a lovely personality to go along with it. Henceforth, Val decided that he would be dubbed "Grump".
.... Well, he never claimed to be good at coming up with names.
He walked off before Val even had a chance to respond. Not that he was planning to. It looked like he was going to complain about something to one of the Protectorate members. He was either ridiculously easy to agitate or.... something else.
As for the next one in line....
If Val could still feel it, he probably would have flinched as something all but stumbled in, all feathers, gangly limbs and fur. It looked like an oversized rat with feathers; a rat-thing. Probably a Changer, or maybe a.... whatever those other things were called. He never paid them much mind before. It was tall, incredibly so, and yet it also seemed so small at the same time. The first word that came to Val's mind was anxious. Very anxious. The second word was "easy-target". It was easily the most outwardly intimidating person in the room, and yet the best thing Val could find to compare it to was a water-logged puppy, curled up on the couch as it was. The juxtaposition of its frightful appearance and skittish mannerisms was somewhat jarring at first. After the initial surprise wore off though, it was a lot easier to read. Who would have thought such a freakish creature could have such transparent expressions?
With that assessment made, Val's eyes moved on.
The third Ward to enter, after the rat-thing, was a girl maybe a bit older than he was, dressed in a black catsuit with a white dress over it. Her mask covered her eyes, and not much else. He looked her over in more detail, and he saw....
Well, that was interesting.
She didn't have the usual kind of detachment that came from experience. It was lesser, but more familiar than that, like a blast from the past. Val hadn't expected to meet someone like that in a place like this. Of course, she was nowhere near as unhinged as the person he was thinking of, but the similarity was there. But, since he'd rather not think about that right now, he turned his gaze away.
Next up, was–
Oh, someone was talking to the rat-thing. It was another girl, older than the last one, and dressed in a gold-highlighted white dress and a likewise white mask. She was engaged in conversation with the anxious-looking rat-thing. She was claiming to be nervous as well, though he had an inkling it was for a somewhat different reason. Her odd reaction to her own words only served to reinforce his assumption.
Val tilted his head slightly to better hear their conversation. It was mostly just introductions, but at least he could finally put names to faces, even if it were only two of them. It was better than nothing.
Another girl walked, dressed brighter than the others, and Val shifted slightly to get a better look at her, never once pausing his coin-spinning; it was important work. Like the first girl to arrive, she was armoured, though hers was bright yellow. He wished he could wear armour, cooler armour than hers of course, but still. He wasn't going to hold his breath on that though. Fibres were one thing, but anything more solid was going to have issues. It was kind of surprising actually, the fact that so few of the Wards he'd seen were wearing body armour. Weren't they afraid of getting shot? He didn't think all of them were bullet-proof, or adjacent.
He couldn't get a good read on her yet; helmets were a bitch that way.
Soft words coming from the front drew his attention, and the words became clearer as he focused. Grandmaster told the dark-garbed Ward—the other one—something about his teammates not being inept, and their number too. His outburst after the fact was odd, though not entirely unexpected, considering his earlier remarks.
So, the Grump wasn't a fan of the way the Protectorate was handling the Wards? There was always at least one....
Grandmaster and Axion turned to each other and spoke briefly about someone who apparently should have been here. The last Ward, probably. Val was about to tune them out until Axiom pulled out an object from her suit which summoned several small containers from somewhere. Neat. He listened intently as she explained what they were and what they did. Some kind of protection from Master influences, which he believed 100%. No doubt, really. The earpieces would definitely....
.... Hold on, how was he supposed to–
His thoughts were interrupted by someone bursting through the door rather loudly.
The rat-thing Ward practically jumped out of its skin when it happened, and Val stifled an exaggerated laugh. The reaction of the Grump from before was similar, if a bit more combative. These guys were on a hair-trigger, weren't they?
The slightest noise and they freaked out. Like rats in a cage.
But, he would admit that entrance was unnecessary unless the newcomer was trying to scare someone. Unnecessary but fun, he'd imagine. Val's first impression of the new Ward was.... well, she was certainly pink, and purple. Other than that, she at least looked like she could hold her hold in a fight, which was more than he could say for most of the others.
She also looked familiar, but neither her face nor her costume rang any bells in his mind. If she was anyone important, he would have remembered.
Satisfied with having taken a look at everyone, he adjusted his position on the couch to make himself more comfortable, but not too comfortable. And with that done, Val closed his eyes and dozed off.
.... If only.
Hail Archer
No more passengers were streaming into the stadium. Whether that meant everyone was accounted for or not, Hail wasn't quite sure. Either way, now that the holographic displays were finally cut off, in a manner not too dissimilar to the opening ceremony, people weren't panicking quite as much anymore. That was fortunate. All they had to do now was wait for the captain to–
Hail paused, brows furrowing as he stared up at the judges' panel and the three masked people standing there.
What the...?
“Hello, darlings, this is your captain speaking again, yoo-hoo. For once, can you all just be quiet? My goodness, every time we do this…’
"What the captain means to say is, you are safe, remain calm."
Did they honestly believe anyone would fall for that act? If the fact that neither of them even sounded like the captain wasn't enough to make it clear they weren't who they pretended to be, the masks should be the clincher. They were clearly not supposed to be here and were likely responsible for the ship's trembling from before. Even without Ghast's description, that was easy to tell. He vaguely recognised the masks, though he couldn't put a name to them. It certainly wasn't any of the usual suspects, but he knew their type well.
Their exact motive, on the other hand, was more difficult to determine than their intent. It could have been any number of things. They were on a ship packed to the brim with celebrities and potential up-and-comers, after all.
Well, whatever. He could find out after dealing with them.
With a single well-practised motion and a flash of light, Tank rose. He stood tall and proud behind Hail, awaiting his command. Hail didn't waste any time.
"Tank, you–"
Before he could finish his sentence, the ship shook violently and he lost his balance. His back slammed into the Tyranitar's chest and his vision went white for a few seconds. When his vision cleared, the judges' panel was empty.
Dammit.
"Ty?"
Hail groaned and hoisted himself back to his feet, "I'm fine."
He blinked the spots out of his eyes and straightened his jacket. What was–
Time seemed to freeze for a moment as his mind processed what he was seeing.
The sun was shining on his face. At night.
.... What the hell?
In
Interest Check - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure RP (Name Pending)
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11 mos ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Killer Queen has already touched this interest check.
June 19, Protectorate HQ
Ward Quarters
8:12 AM
Val hummed quietly, tugging on his arm guard with maybe a little more force than strictly necessary. It was nearly torn to pieces by his power before he managed to make it still. It was taxing, like trying to rein in a rabid dog, but if he couldn't do this, it'd only get harder. He took a momentary pause, restless energy buzzing underneath his skin without direction. He allowed a single breath to steady his hand and then started to pull the straps across, tightening them one by one by one. Easy enough. No pressure, no–
Something snapped.
Val sighed. He finished securing the straps and turned his arm over, taking in every curve and contour of the covering. They'd implemented his suggested designs on one side and left the other blank. No one knew what the symbols meant. Not even him. Sort of.
The glove chaffed oddly against his skin, every part of his costume did, actually. It was a sensation he was experiencing for the first time in a while.... There were a lot of things he hadn't felt in a while now. An incessant buzzing noise filled his ears and his lips tugged downward in a frown. It stopped.
That was annoying.
He stared down at his hands, wondering. How much did they know? Truly know. Certainly not much, considering they were letting him around other people without a shock collar on, not to mention the access they gave him to certain equipment. His lips quirked upwards slightly. Only time would tell if that was a mistake on their part.
Maybe he could make a more personal request. See how much access he had.
But that would come later.
Val flexed his fingers, watching as the sheaths around them shredded into useless strips of fabric. They never should have bothered with making it like that anyway. Then again, he couldn't blame them too much; he hadn't given them a lot to work with.
A ghost of a smile graced his face as he clenched his hand into a fist. Much better.
Putting his mask on came last, and here, he hesitated. Only for half a second, but that was already too long.
He knew better. Hesitation was a killer.
The mask itself was split in two, and Val opted to only wear the lower half this time. Enhanced vision was nice, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. And he didn't need it yet.
His eyes scanned the interior of his room one last time. It was normal.... almost disconcertingly so.
Val pressed the palm of his left hand to the wall, closing his eyes to focus. There was an odd "hum" within the walls. It was quiet, barely there. Anyone else likely wouldn't have noticed it, but his power was useful like that.
He smirked and drew his hand back. Well, maybe they weren't that stupid, after all.
Or maybe, he just didn't know anything about construction.
Fully donned in his Cape costume, Val pulled out his Ward-issued phone to check the time. 8:25 flashed across the screen in neon red. After admiring it for a few seconds, he grabbed his door handle and stopped.
Richter stared at his hands again, and he saw red.
He smiled.
June 19, Protectorate HQ
8:45 AM
Richter arrived at the meeting room exactly on time. Not a second earlier.
There was already another Ward in the room when he got there. He briefly spared her a glance before moving on.
The others waiting in the meeting room were full-fledged members of the Protectorate. Nightstalker, Axiom.... and Grandmaster. The leader of the Protectorate, in the flesh.
He looked quite different from the last time Val had seen him. Then again, he was delirious from blood loss at the time.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
"I am a big fan. I leave myself in your very capable hands." The words slipped from his lips almost convincingly. Not that they were entirely untrue.
Val walked further into the room after his simple greeting, dropping into one of the couches and taking up most of the available space without a second thought. Just because everyone else was standing around didn't mean he had to. He pulled out a silver coin from one of his pouches and flipped it between his fingers, his attention focused completely on his hand.
On the outside, at least.
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