Dirty Dan

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

Oh. Is the movie currently out?

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

^^^ Tru

FEAR The Walking Dead: Survival.

Cool character. :P Was hopin' we'd get a nurse.

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

o.o There's a DC Cinematic Universe's flash?

I know of Grant Gustin.

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

Sounds good. How's my character looking so far? ^^

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

Alex is done.

Heroes: Chrysalis (Always Open)

Alex 'Finn' Finnel

Name: Alexander Finnel
Nicknames: Alex, Finn
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Place of Origin: New York City, New York
Occupation: Plans on becoming a Forensics Scientist in the Criminology division of the NYPD, but currently works as a part-time pizza delivery boy as he finishes college. This is not an occupation, but he is also the assistant to Mr. James B. Jones, the Forensics Criminology Professor of Avery University - his college - in New York City. This gives him extra credits in his chosen major, allowing him to have more free time outside of college.

Known EVO Abilities:
[Speedster Physiology] - Deep within his genes, multiple DNA strands have long since been connected to an unknown force within the universe, granting Alex, and anyone else connected to said force, abilities that all focus upon one specific nature - Super Speed. Currently, as it is now, Alex has the ability to run along the speeds of or below 'Mach 1', although he would have to run full-kilt to hit the pinnacle of that speed - which would result in a sonic boom. The natural side-effect that comes with this ability of super-speed, is himself having superhuman reflexes, agility, stamina, endurance, and perceptive abilities - allowing him to take in information and process it at much faster rates than a normal human, which is a must when moving at such high speeds. With his speed, Alex can do various things you'd expect someone with superspeed to do - such as running across water and up vertical, steep surfaces with the intensity of his speed, reading and processing things at super speeds, vibrating his body at super speeds, and henceforth. Due to his DNA strand's connection to the unknown force, and his own body developing his awakened power, Alex's speed and abilities will grow as he himself trains and uses said abilities - and discover more variables for his speed. On a sidenote, due to his speed, his metabolism is extremely hightened. He has to eat a vast variety of food to sustain himself, or else he experiences dizzy spells and fainting. Due to the pure amount of speed he moves, theres a chance that his clothing will catch fire/smoke due to the wind resistance, as normal clothing doesn't have the natural immunity to such, like Alex's skin. Due to the static electricity generated by his speed, and perhaps the unknown force that powers his DNA/Genes, Alex generates golden/yellow static electricity/lightning whenever he moves/vibrates at high speeds.

Psychological Profile & History: Unsurprisingly, Alex has lived a rather...boring and normal life, up until three months ago. Born underneath a Police Officer of a father, and a District Attorney of a mother, he was obviously brought up to be a law-abiding and authoritative young man - they got in, well, seventy-five percent of it. As a child, Alex obviously shown that he was a smart, bright-eyed young boy, getting straight A's and always getting that golden star for being a good sport, and a good student. However, like all small, skinny kids in public middle-schools, he was often bullied for his lunch money, or bullied to do someone's homework. He did it, at first, until he came back home with a bruised cheek, and his father took a trip up to the school. Obviously, this didn't really help, and the jeering got a bit worse - so Alex took to keeping to himself, and running the opposite way if things were looking bleak. While you would think this would make him a coward, it actually didn't.

Since his bullying became something of the past, the bullies took to messing with other people. Little girls with pigtails, the one kid that ate his boogers - they were pushed, slapped, and stole from, and it was his fault. So, Alex stopped running, and helped out the other kids. He took the hits, sure, but he was getting a bit better at talking himself out of it, or simply getting the Hell away once he helped the other victim. It became a thing of the past as they got older, and the teachers became wiser. He was still getting really good grades, and was skipped up one grade, which put him into a class with slightly more mature students. Most of them saw him for what he was - a bright, if not slightly geeky student that enjoyed speaking about science, physics, and the latest comic book. Time passed, and eventually, high-school was over. He was talked about by colleges extremely highly, and went to Avery University after getting a rather nice apartment in Downtown NYC. He knew what his goal was - the NYPD, in Forensics - that was always his favorite type of subject back in high-school, after all.

In college, there was no bullies. Sure, there were jocks, but Alex was a friendly guy, and no one really felt the need to try and beat him up. Some training with his father gave him a bit of hand-to-hand knowledge, so he was sure that he could defend himself, regardless. More time passed, and his life was looking good. And then...that happened. Afterwards, he tried to play it off, and had even stopped running whenever he could. But, it would pop up whenever he was doing some sort of task, off and on, and eventually, he decided to settle down, test it, and see what the Hell was going on. He wasn't stupid. It was super-speed;; unnatural things happened, especially with the stuff that happened those years ago. He had to keep it on the down-low, however, and try to control it. People didn't like strange, and he was getting as strange as it got.

First Known Manifestation:
He had been taking five boxes of pizza completely across the city, to one Old Lady Palmer's apartment, when he heard the gunshot. It was pretty late, but not too late - around 10 PM, which was the usual time people began ordering the delicious Yorkshire's Pepperoni Platter for dinner. Delivery boys were given slow little mopeds to traverse the streets, so, a bit spooked, but concerned, Alex had turned the moped right and began heading towards the place the sound had blasted from. As he got closer, no longer very concerned about delivering the pizza on time, two more gunshots sounded, and he jumped what felt like 3 feet into the air, dropping the pizza and the moped - and, just his luck, right into a pothole. The back wheel popped on a piece of concrete, and the pizzas had spilled against the pavement. He had cursed, pulling the moped up, when he heard the sound of a slow moving car coming closer and closer to his location. A similar gunshot - something he now recognized as a standard Glock 21 round - blasted from the car's slightly opened window, and he could hear coughing and rough laughter. Two thuggish-looking guys exited the car, and it was obvious that one was packing heat. At this point, his heart was pounding, and he realized what had happened. They'd led an innocent bystander to a shitty part of town, and had planned on mugging or shooting him. God damn it.

The first thug, the one with the gun, pointed it lop-sided at him, a joint hanging from his mouth, and Alex cautiously put his hands up. He could still remember the scene, to this day. "Yo, looks like we got a pizza boy this time, Josh." The gun-toting thug smirked, and it was obvious by his slightly lurring words that he was pretty high. His friend, Josh apparently, grinned, walking forward to look down his nose at the slightly taller, lankier, and scared-shitless Alex, who was still froze. "You hear that, pizza boy? Give us ya' pizza!" Josh laughed, shoving Alex. This snapped him out of his daze, and Alex swallowed, stumbling back clumsily and crouching down. "Okay, okay, just don't shoot." He cursed his luck underneath his breath, grabbing a warm, non-dirty box.

"We don' want your shit, dumbass!" The gun-toting thug laughed, kicking Alex in the back, sending him falling onto the pavement, scraping his chin. Alex grunted as the wind left his chest, and he heard, rather than saw, the Glock being cocked back. "We're just lookin' for time to kill." He could hear the grin in the voice, and damn it, he did not want to die, yet. He still had that report to turn in tomorrow, that comic book to finish reading, and he still had to finally beat Shane on Counter-Strike. He still wanted to see his mom and dad. He still wanted to be the one to give his dad the forensics detailing of a complex crime. He wanted to see them look upon him as an equal, and not as their nerdy, lanky son. He wanted to be someone.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't dead.

He turned around, and to his surprise, the thug was still cocking the Glock back. Alex stood on shaky legs, and narrowed his eyes. Time...was moving slow? No...wait...was it adrenaline? Regardless...he had to get the Hell away...he didn't care if it was adrenaline, or what. He just knew...he had to get away before the trigger was pulled. With all of his strength, he clumsily dashed forward, stumbling over his feet, before he regained his footing and began sprinting. And, sprint, he did. Everything around him was a blur as he suddenly shot down the street, arms pumping as he simply began to run as fast as he could. No, everything else wasn't a blur. He was the blur. His mind seemed to instinctively know when to turn and move around every obstacle, parked car, and corner, as he blurred through the city, heading for the first safe location in his mind - Old Lady Palmer's apartment. However, as he twirled around a speeding car, electricity arcing off of his blurring form, his head began to catch up to what was happening, and his stomach dropped.

Alex skidded to a stop right in front of Old Lady Palmer's door, tripping over his feet and slamming head-first into her wooden door, causing the door to splinter open with a loud crash. Behind him, his skid marks were melted black marks in the concrete, still smoking.

Good thing was, he wasn't fired from his part-time job.

He did have to pay for the door.

FEAR The Walking Dead: Survival.

Michael Wesley

----Michael Wesley ----

---

Size: 6'1

Physical Shape: Michael's body is well taken care of. At a healthy weight, and broad-shouldered, he has a muscled physique, that comes with years of eating meat and vegetables, handling rowdy animals, and drawing bows taut. Hunting has garnered him a steady food supply over the time of the apocalypse, so starving has never been something that he has really experienced at this day and age.

Age: 25 years of age.

Family: Grandpa - Doug Wesley ;; Grandma - Mary Wesley ;; Both are alive and healthy for their older ages.

Personality: Current Personality: As of right now, Michael is a respectful, hard-working young man with a good, smart head on his shoulders. He is usually busy, so he doesn't seem to hav emuch time for talking and lollygagging, but if you get him at a time where he isn't running errands for his ma or working for his pops, he can engage in conversation, with a natural charm that comes with being raised up right. He is a mature guy, but has no qualms about having fun and such. He is rather protective, and will stand up for those who are treated wrongly for no good reason.

Will, over the course of heavy survival and such, develop into: Michael can come off as unapproachable, but that's mainly because he tends to be a bit on the quiet side, having spent ample time thinking and mourning - thus making silence something he is intimately familiar with. While a bit cold-shouldering, Michael is a very down-to-earth, realistic man, calloused from witnessing the deaths of his loved ones. Focused on the task at hand, and mature, Michael can take on a leadership role rather easily - although he tend to be a loner, due to the fact that groups can easily limit mobility and survival chances. He isn't secretly evil, and is a naturally humane person. If he sees someone in trouble, there's a high chance of him helping. However, as stated before, he's realistic, and if there's no chance in Hell of them being saved without major loss on both sides, he will move on, albeit with a heavy heart. These trying times have made him merciless in certain situations, and he no longer hesitates to end the life of a human, if that human poses harm or threat to him or anyone close to him. Serious, and focused, Michael's first rule of survival is...'Survive'. Although he may not seem it at first, there are rare times where Michael will let down his guard and laugh/joke, but it's extremely rare. With close friends, he may let down his guard a tad, and crack jokes or engage in some type of banter, but don't expect it to be an often thing. Even then, him getting all laughy and hyperactive is a no-go.

Occupation: Hunter/farmer by trade, lived in the country with his grandpa and grandma. Sold animal fur/meat to a large hunting shop in Philly.

Equipment: A light-weight, heavy-duty backpack, a multi-tool, a scarred lighter, a small flash-light light, and a wallet - containing some money and a picture of his grandparents. Will also most-likely pack dried meat and water.

Weapons: His future weaponry consists of: A worn, yet highly-maintained and sturdy recurve bow, a leather-wrapped quiver with self-made, sturdy arrows, and a sharpened utility knife. His arrows are reusable, which he makes great use of, and is virtually silent;; It's rare that you would see him with a gun. The utility knife is strapped securely to his pants, and the bow is latched to a strap on his backpack; easy access. The quiver is peeking over his right shoulder, strapped to his back. A solid, light-weight crowbar is strapped to the other side, opposite to his canteen.

Background: Michael had always been raised to be a humble, hardworking young man. Born in a country home, in a plot of land where the forest was cut-off at, hard-work was always a part of his daily life. Cutting wood for the fire, tending to the cows and pigs, and going hunting with his grandpa, deep within the woods...that's how his life was. His mother was single, and had died giving birth to him, leading him into the custody of his grandparents. He didn't mind;; to him, those two would always be his real parents, no matter what. He was taught his studies by a hired tutor, and was taught how to be a man by his grandfather. He speared fish in the lake behind their home, he rode horses down the dirt trails, he helped build sheds and different contraptions for the animals and vehicles, and, the most fun of all, he hunted animals with Mother Nature, selling the fur and hide in the market whenever they went down into Philly - which wasn't often. When all of this happened, Michael and his grandparents knew nothing of it. They were getting old, and it was up to Michael to provide for the family;; he did so efficiently and immediately, spending his time roping the horses, tending to the pigs, chickens, and cows, and hunting deer, boars, and hogs in the forest.

Recently, he has taken his grandpa and grandma down into Philly for a time in the city. Just so that they can experience it a bit more, since they tend to keep to their farm.

Other: The stuff in his weaponry and equipment slots are all things he has at his home, which he will eventually get/wear once shit really hits the fan.

Dragon Ball AU (Name Change Pending)

Generally, seeing Namekians on Earth was very rare, and humans still haven't gotten overly used to the green-skinned aliens. It wasn't much of a surprise that those around the 7 foot tall, muscular and imposing Namek promptly shied away, leaving him in a small circle of his own personal space. Xalam stood in the stands, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the arena closely, ignoring the roaring applause all around his form.

This was it;; one of the few tournaments that he decided to even try his time challenging. After landing on this Earth, many months ago, he had spent his time re-establishing a base of operations, for him to stay at, meditate, and train. It was a on a mountain, quite far away other civilizations. The mountain's peak had been landscaped, sliced, and cleaned into a sufficient place to train and meditate, while the inside of the mountain, in it's many caves, were hollowed out and alit for sleeping and storing water.

He had heard of this tournament whilst meditating - nearby hitchhikers had been talking rather loudly about how they were going to get back to the city in time to watch it, and his supernatural hearing barely caught the last dregs of the conversation. Bemused, he had flown at his top speed towards the city in question, deciding to sign up so that he can test his might against the humans of this world. If he were to protect it, he would need to know exactly how much protection it would need. So far, he was completely disappointed and unamused with the challengers he had seen so far. Arrogant, reckless, unskilled - in his eyes.

'Korian, hm?' The Namekian wondered mentally, eyes narrowing at the name. He felt that this challenger would at least pose a challenge.

Dragon Ball AU (Name Change Pending)

I thought about it, but Saiyans are just...IDK. Mainstream? I don't want to sound like a Hipster, of course. Lol