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Done. Finally. God, I hate character sheets.
Just gotta touch up the bio and finish the personality section, and I'll be good. I'm out for most of the day, but hopefully I'll have it done before tonight. Sorry for the delay :P.
No, Sam- DON'T LEAVE ME US!

Oh, and posted. For the record, I don't expect the team to know anything; I just figured that whoever's left behind might want to help Andy. So, like, help him, or he'll burn you.
Hellfire


You know, I never knew how fun flying was until I could do it myself. That feeling of freedom as you soar through the air, the wind rushing past so fast that your eyes start to water; I never could have imagined it if not for my powers. Man, do I love them. I speed towards Star City, a stream of fire trailing behind me, and I shout in elation, a loud “WOO-HOO!”, heard by nothing but the flock of birds that glide alongside me.

The city’s silent as I land on a building, among the tallest there, and cast my gaze over skyline, searching. My suit’s HUD system springs to life, the orange display like something out of a Halo game, showing me my location and vitals, as well as something much more important: my music library.

“Play 'the Bomb',” I command, and the system obliges, blaring Pigeon John’s voice into my ears. Commencing obligatory head bobbing, I scan the cityscape again, taking in the lights and the ever changing noise. As I pass over the Grell Street Bridge, an urgent beep sounds, momentarily interrupting the song. I growl in annoyance, before noticing that the HUD’s highlighted something-- underneath the bridge. In the top right corner of the display, eight magic words appear; EIGHT HEAT SIGNATURES DETECTED. SEVEN METAHUMANS. ONE HUMAN. The Teen Titans. Bingo.

I’m willing to bet that if anyone has answers, it’s them.

“Volume up,” I say, and tip over the edge of the rooftop, once again in flight. I reach the Grell Street Bridge in under thirty seconds. I conclude that I’m awesome. I then conclude that I’m kind of stupid. What would've happened if Luthor’s guys spotted me?

I find the entrance to the Titans’ hideout in an alley, next to a dumpster that, by the looks of it, had been pushed out of the way. Where it had been was an opening, just large enough to fit through, a gaping hole of black among brick and mortar. “Well,” I say to myself, “This makes things easier. Music off.” Pigeon John shuts up, and I plunge into the darkness, walking and crawling, eventually emerging in a cosy metal room, complete with a camera and a door, reinforced. It heartens me to see that they remembered to shut this one.

Knock, knock, knock.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I announce, “But I need some help.”

My eyes find the security camera. “It's about Luke Nelson. Sandstorm. He’s gone missing, and I need your help. Help me find my friend.”
What can I say? Any team is lost without him.

| NAME: |
Andrew “Andy” Hughes


| ALIAS: |
Hellfire


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Solar Manipulation: Andy can manipulate solar energy. His orange flame burns at seemingly impossible temperatures, burning things at subatomic levels.
Hand to Hand Combat: Trained in multiple fighting arts, Andy is a skilled combatant, able to take on multiple goons at a time.
Flight: An application of his power, Andy can use his flames to propel him through the air.
Peak Human Conditioning: Intense training has seen Andy transform his body into a paragon of human development.
Sass: Sass is an art, and Andy has all but mastered it. He can burn people in more ways than one.

Andy’s suit is made of an experimental material designed to be bulletproof and impervious to the elements. His helmet contains a built-in HUD system, as well as a music player, for when he’s bored.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Control: Andy needs to constantly watch how much control he has over his power. Too much exertion takes a toll on his body: exhaustion and bleeding are but a few symptoms of overuse. No control could also lead to a catastrophe on a global scale, something he doesn’t think anybody really wants.
Humanity: Solar powers aside, he’s only human. Underneath his incredibly awesome suit is a person as vulnerable as any other.
Naivety: Andy displays a naivety that's put him in danger time and time again. Despite constant reminders that the world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows, he can’t help but see the best in people.


| SAMPLE POST: |
I’ve been at the bank for only a few seconds when I have an epiphany: the robber is an idiot. You know that feeling when you watch somebody do something stupid, and can’t help but share the load of embarrassment with them? That’s what I feel now, as I watch the shaking gunman aim his weapon at me.

He’s an ugly mess of a man, all crooked features and fat rolls, hairs sprouting from moles dotted over his face. Wavy golden locks splay over his shoulders, as fake as WWE; whether they’re a lousy attempt at a disguise, or a lousy attempt at boasting a headful of hair, I don’t know. What I do know is this: he is an idiot. After a moment of pondering, I decide that I should let him know.

“Hey,” I say, “You’re an idiot.”

He looks at me, fear in his gaze and his mouth wide open, revealing a set of disgusting, cigarette-stained teeth. “Sh-shut up,” he eventually manages. He sounds like a dying hyena. “Shut up or I’ll sh-sh--shoot.”

I sigh. “Good luck with that.”

“I warned you!” he yells, and tries to pull the trigger. It doesn’t budge. “Wh-what?” he asks, confused.

I sigh. “Your safety’s on.” Idiot.

“...Oh.” He clicks it off.

I flick a spark at his wig. It catches alight. He screams and drops his gun.

I walk over to him, grabbing hold of his flaming hairpiece. I chuck it on the ground. His shiny scalp stares up at me. He’s a midget. A bald, fat, ugly midget.

“Hey, idiot,” I say. He catches my gaze. His eyes well with emotion, and I realize that he’s crying. “Oh god,” I groan, “You’re crying.”

“I’m sorry,” he moans, tears streaming down his face, “I can’t help it.”

I watch him as his shoulders shake with every sob. I feel awkward.

I reach down and pat his shoulder. “There there,” I say, “There there.”


| NOTES: |

  • He’s Australian.
  • 17 years old.
  • Almost always in good spirits.
  • Loves a good laugh.
@WhiteStar19 Just a quick question for my bio. Would the Council be the kind of government that publicly executes people for treason? The way I imagine it, Gareth's mother was framed and killed for plotting against them. Is that plausible?
Not quite there yet, sorry. I've run into a few blocks, and I'm trying to break through them. I'm not entirely sure how long I'll be. I hope this isn't an inconvenience, but I understand if it is. I'll hopefully get it done within the next day or so.
And so am I! Lol. Hey guys.

Time to catch up on the IC.

<Snipped quote by GreenGrenade>

Fixed that for you ;)


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