Berlin

Anomalous

Aria Chastain

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Alias
Luckily, there hasn't been a need.

Age
Twenty-two

Gender
Female

Appearance
5’4” | 116 lbs | Lean frame | Dark features | Tan complexion peppered with various freckles, moles, and birthmarks | Tattoo on the back of her neck that stands in as her own discrete homage to The Apex

Notoriety
Unknown

Class/Level
Upon Identification: Class Six / Level Blue

Abilities

Rapid Cellular Regeneration - Enhanced healing of physical wounds sustained to self and others. Limited by presence of foreign objects, degree of injury and whether injury is reasonably sustainable with life. Maintaining Aria’s status of Unknown leaves her rarely able to push the limits of the ability outside of what she sees within the Coalition, despite the ample opportunities within her profession.

Variant Psychometry - Upon an instance of physical touch, Aria is capable of determining whether or not the subject of this interaction is also a Variant. The specifics of their abilities and even their class remain entirely unknown to her, but she claims to have a gut feeling that has yet to be proven incorrect. At least as far as she knows.

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GEAR

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Attire
A light blue button down tucked neatly into a darker pair of cargo pants is all Aria adorns during her time at work. Off duty, her base layer consists of a simple tank top with a pair of light joggers or denim.

Armament/Equipment
A pair of trauma shears | Multiple stingers | E-Vap | Concealed handgun, unknown to employer | Professional trauma and triage bag

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TEMPERAMENT AND LIFESTYLE

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Affiliation
Coalition Zero

Alignment
Revolutionary - Rebel Good

Personality/Habits

Aria tends to keep to herself and her own, though this is a quality that is undoubtedly related to her upbringing and the fear instilled within her by those within her Coalition cell. This paired with her tendency to mix into the background and keep herself unnoticed has often left her struggling for social connections. Much of her communication with her co-workers comes in the form of quick wit and inappropriate humor, a coping mechanism of sorts. Coming from the line of work that she does, Aria is rarely knocked off kilter and is very quick to recover when this does occur. Her aptness to act on instinct may even warrant her being called impulsive.

There is an underlying warmth to the young woman that quickly rises to the surface upon the establishment of trust and connection, no matter how minuet. Her patients and fellow ciphers would advocate for the motherly nature that she holds, as she seems almost desperate to please those around her, whether this be by physically caring for them or by simply offering an ear to listen. She will consistently be one of the first to donate time and resources to whatever cause she feels passionate about, though this often leaves her stretched thin and even cynical.

Occupation/Trade
New Haven Emergency Medical Technician - Paramedic

Skills/Talents
Medical knowledge and application | Can say the alphabet backwards

Family
Julien Chastain (Deceased) - Father
Margot Chastain (Absent) - Mother
Elaina and Josephine Chastain - Sisters
Elijah (Deceased) and Nicolas Chastain - Brothers

Background

Over time, the Chastain blood line has unfortunately deeply rooted itself within the walls of The Shanty. Generation after generation seem to find themselves stuck there, whether catalyzed by poor decisions or fate. The area sits neglected as its residents find themselves serving the other districts within New Haven, each desperately clawing at crumbling brick as they reach towards a better life for themselves. Julien Chastain, a single father of four, spent every waking moment digging his heels in and striving for an out.

Matters only grew more complicated when his four-year-old daughter jumped right back into a soccer game moments after relocating her own shoulder. Thankfully, a friend and neighbor witnessed the incident and began integrating the family as a whole into his Coalition cell, offering a certain level of protection to the young girl. Together, they would stifle what they could of her ability and keep her status unknown for as long as possible.

Only a few months later, during a heated discussion with his father, Aria’s eldest brother began to show signs of his own telekinetic ability through a violent display that left a majority of the home’s windows shattered. Emotions played a large part in the teen boy’s capabilities and it would ultimately be due to this that he would end his own life two years later. Aria’s knack for Variant identification through psychometry was first discovered when the young girl placed a hand on her deceased brother’s cheek at his funeral and explained that touching him didn't cause her stomach to turn anymore. No other Chastain child showed signs of a variation, but the death of their sibling did cause the entire family to immerse itself within the Zero Coalition.

Teenhood was fairly easy for Aria, as she was homeschooled and never endured many of the social trials that are expected with that age. She did, however, settle deeply into an adolescent rebellion that left her bitter with her circumstances and struggling to find her identity. She lived each day stripped of a part of herself and stared down by ICON. In an effort to lessen the anxiety of slipping up and allowing her ability to be seen, she joined a profession that seemed to fit her need for purpose in a way that maintained her unknown truth.

Aria has been a New Haven Paramedic for two years, carefully utilizing her ability only during the most morally conflicting circumstances. These often involve children. Her skills are used most frequently within the Coalition where she sees Variants that are too afraid to visit a N.O.V.A physician, those who have been injured during an interaction with MADmen, or situations that require emergent medical aid. She currently runs her operation out her own home in The Shanty, only blocks from the one she grew up in, in an effort to protect her remaining family that still serve as ciphers themselves.

The Anomalous Chronicles (working title)

Aye, I'm sold.

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

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@QueenNugget@sempis

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The atmosphere on the roof was growing brighter even as the sun continued to progress towards the horizon. Ellie had offered a hand and raised her bottle to both Nick and Xavi, pleased to be able to claim she had at least met two new people in the building should the night fall flat. She listened intently as Xavius told of his day and the frustrations that came with it, her head subtly nodding until he seemed to press the breaks on his own conversing. “No, no, no,” Ellie protested, stretching her hand out to fall on his shoulder and leaning in just slightly. “I’ve watched Pet Cemetery and Children of the Corn. Kids can be truly wicked, terrifying, filthy little things… I want six.” A wild grin crinkled the corners of her eyes, unwavering even when she pretended not to notice the man’s pained expression as he took a drink. She turned to Nick in an effort to subtly give Xavius a moment of privacy.

“Eventful, huh? Like I went to my ten year old cousin’s birthday party eventful? Or I woke up in a train station in Illinois wearing a sash that said ‘Bride To-Be’ eventful?” Ellie’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “Not that, like, I’m speaking from experience or anything,” She relentlessly pressed into Nick’s concise answer about his day, unsatisfied with the lack of information she was given. As if the universe was handing him a free pass out of her grasp, however, Ellie’s attention was yanked to the stage where her roommate and one other had climbed behind the microphone. Her smile seemed to widen as she absentmindedly swayed along to the few songs she was able to catch.

Ellie reached for another beer as she drained her first, stretching it out to Nikola. “Can you do the thing?” She inquired as she gestured to the railing where she had seen him crack open his own. “My mom paid a lot for my teeth,” she almost seemed to snort at her own explanation, an inside joke with herself.

Cold Front: Tacitum (Completed)

Gotta go with Reika.

Cold Front: Tacitum (Completed)

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“Might wanna slow down, Champ. You’ll get sick,” Jane warned, the inside of her eyebrows turned upwards as she watched Vinnie gorge himself from the platter. The young woman was leaned back in her seat, absentmindedly picking at a piece of pita, popping each darkened bubble on its surface, but never bringing any to her mouth. Her eyes had been glued to the television screen just prior to it being shut off, hoping that a newscaster would appear with some breaking news about the situation. Rather, they each spewed the same script accompanied by the same video clips. Those sitting alongside her knew more than anyone at this point.

The daunting, subtle message left by Kuso seemed to settle upon the table as he disappeared through the doors. It was an invitation, almost, and Jane was certain that there were others here willing to RSVP. There had been meetings before that caused her palms to grow damp as she arrived to them, but this was different. There was not a leader to pull them in one direction or another. What happened here would be entirely their responsibility. They had to call the shots now. Literally. Jane scoffed to herself at her own sick humor.

“Better watch your drink if you go pointing fingers like that,” Jane smirked as she referenced Alice’s knack for tainting edibles, shooting a wink to the young woman. Reika’s audacity hadn’t surprised her, but it did quickly alter the mood. They each would be on the defensive now. “I think we could very easily form a case for any of us sitting here. It’s not like any of us can boast a clean RAP sheet. Aggressively pushing and shoving is just gonna cause us to act irrationally and impulsively, though.” Jane brought herself forward, placing her folded arms onto the table. “We need to structure this somehow.”

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

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@QueenNugget

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The beginning of a slow trickle of people onto the roof, each with their appearance well coordinated and with offerings in hand, had sent Claire scrambling back to the apartment to change out of her overalls. Rowan’s open door signaled that he may have come and gone since she had, but she didn't allow herself the time to check. She frantically tugged a brush through her hair, which fell back into place with minimal protest, and pulled on a pair of relatively snug high-waisted jeans. A dark leather jacket she yanked from an unpacked box topped a shirt that ended at the the bottom of her ribs. She halted her frantic movement only to glance at herself in the mirror, smoothing her palms across the front of her outfit. She felt it was simple enough to be safe. No bright colors, no hats, nothing patterned. Her final accessory was a pair of six packs of Heineken she yanked from the fridge, nudging the door closed with her foot before she slipped back out of the apartment and headed back up to the gathering.

The bottles rattled against one another as Claire slid both carriers onto the table amongst the other drinks, lifting one out for herself. She habitually brought the bottle to the side of her mouth, hooking her lower canine tooth beneath the cap and popping the seal. It was a party trick that came from necessity, as keeping track of herself, let alone a bottle opener, was a challenge for the young woman. Claire took a moment to kneel and properly greet the dog making his rounds with a generous ruffle of his fur before slipping back beside Bert. She had long since given up on the idea of a coffee refill and had rather begun aiding in getting the karaoke machine up and running, something she was relatively familiar with. That is until the social pressure in collaboration with the cold sent her scrambling into more appropriate attire.

Claire’s eyes subconsciously scanned the growing crowd, mostly shocked in how little she had interacted with any of them since her arrival. Besides Rowan, who had been forced to be much of her company over the past week. Roommate obligation. The rest of her socializing had occurred out and about, finding open stages in town or orientating herself to the new university. The undeniable scent of florals coaxed Claire from her own thoughts, her eyes falling on the source that had approached the small group. The gentleman held himself in a manner than seemed to demand poise of his company, but his smile was enough to offer enough comfort that she raised her hand outward. “Hello there, Xavius,” the corners of the young woman’s lips turned upward in a return of the polite gesture, but her eyes seemed to glint in rebellion of the formal greeting. “I’m Claire. Ellie if you’re feeling friendly. My day has actually been absolutely, brutally, unequivocally boring and oh, so uneventful. But here’s to hoping for a better night, aye? Grab a drink to help things along, would ya?” She smirked, gesturing with her own towards the table laden with bottles.

Cold Front: Tacitum (Completed)

Jane Montgomery

	Jane Montgomery Gender: Female Age: 31 Height: 5’8” Weight: 132 lbs Occupation: Attorney-At-Law

Background

Jane was born into a middle-class family in the midwest and was the third of five children. When her parents divorce left both parties noticeably happier, she began contemplating a degree as a legal professional with a hope of revolutionizing the proceedings of family law. Secondary education brought her abroad and that is where she has remained since she completed her program. Following law school, she began with nickel-and-dime cases in the local courts, no matter the topic. After a few victories, she caught the eye of syndicate representatives. It did not take much consideration before Jane accepted their offer of work.
The news of Azzurro’s arrest sent Jane into the shadows, only picking up enough small, “safe” cases to remain inconspicuous. She keeps her eyes and ears open for any news on the court proceedings or evidence pointing towards an informant, however.

Resources

“Do my dashing good looks and quick wit count?”

• International legal connections
• Regular access into the prison system for client meetings
• Signal Blocker - Cell and GPS
• Privately-owned office building
• A bottle of Dalmore 62 scotch
• A slim briefcase that remains glued to her side
• Smith and Wesson 340 PD. Also literally attached to her side.
• A smartphone

Crimes

“Well, there was that parking ticket.”

• Extortion
• Money Laundering

Cold Front: Tacitum (Completed)

I wanna be a cool kid!

Jane Montgomery

	Jane Montgomery Gender: Female Age: 31 Height: 5’8” Weight: 132 lbs Occupation: Attorney-At-Law

Background

Jane was born into a middle-class family in the midwest and was the third of five children. When her parents divorce left both parties noticeably happier, she began contemplating a degree as a legal professional with a hope of revolutionizing the proceedings of family law. Secondary education brought her abroad and that is where she has remained since she completed her program. Following law school, she began with nickel-and-dime cases in the local courts, no matter the topic. After a few victories, she caught the eye of cartel representatives. It did not take much consideration before Jane accepted their offer of work.
The news of Azzurro’s arrest sent Jane into the shadows, only picking up enough small, “safe” cases to remain inconspicuous. She keeps her eyes and ears open for any news on the court proceedings or evidence pointing towards an informant, however.

Resources

“Do my dashing good looks and quick wit count?”

• International legal connections
• Regular access into the prison system for client meetings
• Signal Blocker - Cell and GPS
• Privately-owned office building
• A bottle of Dalmore 62 scotch
• A slim briefcase that remains glued to her side
• Smith and Wesson 340 PD. Also literally attached to her side.
• A smartphone

Crimes

“Well, there was that parking ticket.”

• Extortion
• Money Laundering

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

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“YOU’RE STUPID! YOU’RE OBNOXIOUS AND STUPID! AND STUP-….UGGHH!”

Cries of frustration spilled from apartment 3D into silence. Their source was a lanky woman tucked within the rooms, one foot planted on a window sill and the other on a nightstand that had been dragged near. She was crouched before the glass with her fingers wiggled beneath the wooden frame, heaving upward as if her life was entirely dependent on the fresh air she would be rewarded upon the window opening. Her frame was drowning under a pair of men’s branded overalls, bare toes peeking from beneath their folded hem. Long locks of blonde had been haphazardly tugged into a matching pair of buns, flyaway hairs fighting their way from beneath a bandana. Claire had seen a woman in a hardware store magazine wearing a nearly identical outfit and figured it would be the ideal choice for her day of rearranging her new furniture. They did not disclose that her body would essentially convert the pants into a greenhouse. She had taken a long moment to sympathize with the women and men who visited her parent’s home to work outdoors midsummer, all dressed in dark polo shirts that stayed tucked neatly into long pants. At last, the pane jolted upward and the young woman quickly leapt down from her perch, dropping onto her bed to spread her limbs outward in a full embrace of the February chill.

Claire had already made significant improvements to the space, with no wall left blank and greenery adorning all open areas that the sun touched. The best that the indie rock genre had to offer was spilling from the stereo that she had tucked into a corner designated for all things music, including her own keyboard and guitar. Days before, she had spotted a baby grand piano hidden within an antique store that was selling it for only a fraction of what she knew it to be worth, but the daunting task of getting it up three floors to the apartment was enough to convince her to begrudgingly leave it where it rest. Numerous boxes containing miscellaneous pieces of decor and furniture still sat propped against the walls, all sharing one thing in common. To Claire’s shock, each apparently required a screwdriver to construct. Something truly unheard of.

The young woman, whose eyes had settled on the window with a glare that dared it to make a move against her once more, suddenly rose upward back onto her feet at the change of the song. Her expression lightened into a broad smile as she slid out into the kitchen, shamelessly carrying herself to the upbeat rhythm that filled the space. Despite her ability to keep a beat, the girl’s movements were nothing to write home about. She swayed and rocked her weight between each foot, snapping her fingers along. But, really, that was all she had. Almost habitually, she continued to the coffee maker sitting atop the counter. She chimed along with the lyrics, snagging her mug from the table and tugging the pot from where it was tucked in the brewer. Claire verbalized defeat with a soft groan, however, as she held the empty container up to eye level. The inside of her brows turned upward as if willing it to fill with something containing caffeine, refusing to accept that she had already consumed the last batch that morning. She heaved a sign as she accepted defeat, placing the useless pot in the sink.

“Rowan, you here?!” She hollered, absentmindedly looking over the papers stuck to the front of the fridge. Her fingers trailed one in particular, tugging it down after realizing the date. “Aw, I forgot about this! We have to go! I think it’d be kinda cool to meet everyo-” A sudden wave of revelation crossed Claire's face, her mouth falling agape just slightly. _{“Oh no... I’m so sorry,”} she began in a whisper, _{“you're probably meditating and I’m an absolute jerk.} I’ll just slide this under here, okay?” She had moved to kneel beside Rowan’s closed door and was attempting to pass the flyer beneath it, mug still in hand. As the paper began to crumple against the door frame, she cringed, leaving it just outside the door with a gentle, finishing pat.

“Imma just go get some coffee, okay?” Claire turned to rush out of the apartment with her music still blaring, window still open, feet still bare, and still having received no answer from behind the door.

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Claire pushed through onto the rooftop, eyes scanning the crowd for one face in particular as goosebumps immediately formed on her bare arms. She muttered something to herself about a window as she swiftly moved towards who she needed, though she was careful not to interrupt any conversations currently being held with the landlord.“Oh, Bert. Buddy ol’ pal. My faithful dealer of all things caffeinated. My main man, Bert,” She began as soon as there was an opportunity, addressing the man she had interacted with perhaps a total of three times since her arrival to Silvervale.“It seems I have not gone shopping in a few days and I’ve put myself in a predicament... So, how much money and/or physical labor would it require for me to perhaps obtain a cup of Joe?” Before the man could respond, Claire lifted her empty mug, curled her lower lip downward, and overemphasized the batting of her lashes. She probably wasn't going to mention that she had just scoured the entire apartment building for the man.

Cold Front: Tacitum (Completed)

Not in the characters tab, @RedVII.

And I see you lurking, @Berlin.

@Gcold

Who, Me?