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    1. Indy Cooper 8 yrs ago
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Location: Local Walmart
Time:13:26

David walked around from aisle to aisle looking at the signs hanging from the ceiling, until he finally saw what he was looking for, “Storage & Organization”. David led the way into the aisle, multiple plastic bins of various shapes and sizes for different uses adored the shelves. There were a couple other shoppers looking at some of the plastic containers for their own purposes, but as soon as they saw Berenice they decided to move out of the aisle quickly with some worried mumbling on their part. David did his best to keep his face down; he really didn’t want to be identified with Berenice right now, it might lead to trouble in the future after all. Taking a quick glance David picked up a decently sized, clear, plastic box, he wondered for a moment why his current partner would need a bin in the first place. I remember she said something about homes needing bins, but why? Forget it, this should be fine. It can be a thank you gift for not hurting those kids. David picked up the plastic box and turned around to leave, only to find Berenice nodding her head.

“No. Wrong bin.”

“Wrong bin? Are you sure you knew what a bin looked like before today?”

Nodding again Berenice replied. “Ah-mee show me. Need big bin for home. Like bin under tree.”

“Under tree? Do you mean like back at the park? A garbage bin?” Berenice nodded yes again and David gave her a look of disbelief. “What do you need with a garbage bin?”

“For trash, Ah-mee said for trash.”

“For trash? But you’re a, a-“

He was about to say bird woman, but before now he’d never met anyone like her, and therefore had no real standard to compare her too. Accepting the situation David gave a sigh of defeat. “Alright, alright, they say bigger is better anyways.” After picking out the correct “bin” they both turned to leave but as they got closer to the front David ushered Berenice behind him and back into another aisle. The police had arrived and they had already begun questioning the greeter near the entrance, he could see him pointing down to where they had been earlier. Shoot, I can’t be caught near this bird lady when the cops come by.

“Uh, Barry was it?”

“Berenice, I am Berenice.”

“Alright sure, listen, wait here, don’t move, and hold this. I ,uh, have to use the bathroom.” David placed the plastic container down before bolting into a sprint towards the back of the store. Berenice watched him go for just a moment, idly wondering what a bathroom was.

David dove into the restroom, after giving it a quick once over he saw the feet of a man currently using a stall, deciding that he wouldn’t be a problem David decided to leave him alone. The smell alone indicated that he was busy regardless. David didn’t want to be caught doing this in front of an audience like the police, so the dirty, but relatively empty, public bathroom would have to do. Focusing himself David mentally he called to the Earth to bring his powered form into being. In a split second a burst of brilliant white light emerged from the floor, completely engulfing him, red and orange waves of energy began to pulsate from his chest until they covered him like fire. The energy settled and continued to flow off him in small embers that disappeared after a second, after giving himself a quick once over David quickly dove back outside to help Berenice. As he left he could hear a curse of confusion coming from the stall back in the restroom. Now in his powered body he decided to take advantage of it and flew high into the ceiling, over the lights and rafters, dodging each ceiling obstacle with ease.

---

Berenice was inclined to wait for David, though her easily distracted nature was getting the best of her. She didn’t yet understand everything, and so far he had been willing to help, at least to a point. She had waited for almost a minute, fighting the instinct to go and investigate all the brightly coloured objects that were everywhere, until she heard a sound that caught her attention; somewhere nearby a child was playing. Following the sound, she found a boy like Owen, but younger, who was marching up and down an aisle with a small object in his hand.

“Hello nestling, what is that you have?” Berenice asked as she craned her head around in curiosity.

The boy was holding a red robotic bird toy, he was currently tapping a button on the back to activate the lights and sounds feature. “It’s the Brobot Falcon from Big Team 5.” The young boy responded, he was young enough that he didn’t quite notice that Berenice wasn’t completely human; apparently the human-like head was enough for him. Suddenly another voice called out from behind an aisle.

“Thomas! Thomas where are you!”

“Here uncle Frank!”

“Oh there you are, thank go-“The man behind the voice emerged from the aisle right behind Thomas and froze, his eyes fixed on Berenice.

Berenice’s features switched to wariness and she took a stance. “Away egg-thief!”

“Thomas we’re going!” The man shouted as he lifted Thomas from under his arms and started running, the boy dropped his toy but didn’t seem to notice yet if at all.

“Bye.” Thomas waved to Berenice as he was quickly lifted up off his feet, he didn’t understand what was happening but he trusted his uncle.

But Berenice picked up the toy and began to imitate it by spreading her own wings out above the aisles, completely unaware and uncaring of the stares she was getting. Unfortunately, those same stares were leading the investigating officers towards her, herding civilians away as they moved in. Two took position at the entrance of the aisle she was playing in and peeked around the corner. They stared, wide-eyed, as Berenice dropped the first toy and began wrestling with another figurine, trying to get it out of the box by way of her teeth.

Each officer glanced at the other for a moment, before the older and more seasoned man grabbed his radio and whispered, “Visual on target, aisle thirteen. Does not appear armed.” Two more officers immediately veered off to close the other end of the aisle, and once in position, the older officer whispered again.

“Dispatch, this is badge 435, we have a visual on the special suspect. Awaiting order to engage.”

Berenice had abandoned the struggle with the boxed toy and hopped along the aisle a bit, and now she had found a music box. Opening it, and hearing the little chiming tune, she grinned ear to ear. This was a good find. After a single repetition of the song recorded on the thing, she had began singing along to it, although wordlessly, and the effect on the officers was immediate. Their eyes glazed over, and they stood up out of cover and began relaxing. Nervous patrons in the aisles not already cleared also relaxed, and several of them began moving to get nearer to her. Badge 345’s radio crackled, dispatch trying to get more information, but he just turned it down and sat on the floor near the siren.
---

David soared high above the floor, the customers who hadn’t become aware of Berenice had failed to notice him as well as he dodged various ceiling fixtures. Spotting where he left the bin he swooped down to pick it up, noticing the lack of Berenice in the aisle he continued to fly around, trying to track her down. “Just couldn’t sit still.” David muttered as he continued, he almost missed it due to how soft it was but he thought he heard singing. David pondered as he flew closer and into the aisle, spotting both police and hapless customers standing and sitting around in a daze. The people scattered around Berenice where in a hapless daze, a simple smile painted all their faces as they gazed in Berenice’s direction, drool began to slip down the corner of some of their mouths. David waved his hand in front of one of the officers, his face stayed in the same listless, drooling, state it was in previously. David took a moment to check his pulse. He seems alright, I hope this isn’t permanent, doesn’t seem like it.

David placed his hand around the officer’s wrist and wiped his mouth for him and spoke to him in a hushed tone. “We’re real sorry about this.” David turned around to Berenice, the box still in his hands. “Barry, cut the siren act we’re leaving.” David said out loud as he turned to face her.

Berenice had been concentrating on the music, almost to the exclusion of all other things, but the odd voice using her name caused her to look up. Seeing a giant man made of flame, however, caused her to panic. Her wings flared wide, arms out and talons flexed along the tiles of the store, and she puffed out her chest ever so slightly underneath the tank-top she was wearing for just a moment. Her mouth opened wide and she squinted her eyes shut and cut loose with a scream to drive the offending fire man away.

As the sound waves pushed out, magic coursed through the air at the same time, wind rushing along with it as the simple force of power threw everything around in front of the oncoming attack. Small toys filled the air in slow motion as it hit the shelves, much like a tidal wave does with buildings, and the shelves themselves shifted into the next aisle, screws in the base shearing under the pressure.

Passing the flame man, the waves continued, and the two officers just a step behind him did not have the advantage of powers to protect them. They were flung back as the sound hit them with physical ‘oomph’, into the trio of civilians behind them, and all five collapsed to the ground, making pitiful noises they couldn’t even hear from pain. The simple presence of the police and the fire man in front of them saved the civilians’ lives, the brute force of the wave somewhat diminished from having passed through those bodies first. The officers, however, would not be getting back up, having been less than twenty feet from Berenice as she screamed.

---
As Berenice turned around David felt himself tense up after sensing her panicked state, he was struck by indecision as pondered on his next act, by the time he decided it was far too late to stop her from acting. “Uh oh.” David muttered as the sound waves pounded him, reverberating throughout his body, a pain in his head erupted just seconds before he was forced to stagger backwards. David struggled to keep standing as the force of the sound waves slid him back slightly even as his feet planted themselves.“Berenice cut it off!” David shouted as he covered his “ears”, but his shouting went unheard, drowned out by the intensity and volume of the screaming.

---

She held it for almost thirty seconds, before abruptly cutting it off. She hop-skipped forward towards the stunned man, snatched the box from near him in a quick, darting grab, and took off into the air. Lifting with some difficulty due to the added weight, she made for the nearby doors, standing shattered from her attack. Sensing the difficulty she would have maneuvering, she abandoned her prize and darted through as quickly as she could, shooting up and into the afternoon sky amidst customers looking around for the source of the noise they had just heard. Somehow, none seemed to notice her leave, those near the door still trying to extricate themselves from broken shards of glass.

---

By the time David had recovered Berenice was already gone, and the aisle around him lay in ruins. Various products either lay scattered or shattered around him, the floor tiles had also been torn up from both the sound waves and his own efforts to stay in place, the bystanders that had been in the aisle with him were now left unconscious on the floor. After checking the bodies he was relieved the civilians were alive, but he was disheartened after discovering the officers were not so lucky. “Stupid move, of course she wasn’t going to recognize you like this.” David chastised himself outloud. But his head flew upwards when a voice suddenly called out to him.

“Yeah this was a stupid move, who the hell trashes a Wally Mart?”

“Uh oh.” David muttered for the second time today as a figure stood floating in front of him. The man floating before him wore a welding mask, an open grey hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, a red t-shirt, worn down jeans, and brown work shoes; the kind construction workers would wear.

“‘Uh oh’ is right.” The figure replied mockingly.

---
Early evening, Los Angeles, CA

The "apartment" Zoé occupied was mostly empty space, really. A huge open area two stories tall, in a converted warehouse. Partition walls divided the whole building into quarters, each several hundred square feet, but as far as she was aware, she was the only person living there, and she owned two of the four spaces. One, the one she wasn't usually in, held most of her equipment, including her carbon fibre suits, welding area, scrap metal, isolated crime computer, and others. That quarter of the building was heavily reinforced, guarded by expertly built security systems that she had paid almost excruciatingly well for. Cameras, laser tripwires, alarms, explosive charges, blast doors, and more made sure that no one was about to 'accidentally' stumble across her villain identity and live to tell the tale. It also contains what she affectionately called her gym, another open area with fireproofed walls and simulated security systems, most of it covered in scorch marks and bits of formerly molten metal.

In contrast, her actual living space consisted of well worn couches, armchairs, and a coffee table, surrounding a 56" plasma television and a bunch of games and consoles. Spaced around that in various areas were her writing desk, three easels with paintings in various stages of completion, a rack of painting and other art supplies, her cello resting on a stand, and in the corner, a small area with plumbing where her kitchen and bathroom were. Next to those was another little spot, divided off by old surgical curtains, that held her bed and a few other personal effects. Hanging from most of the wallspace were completed paintings awaiting buyers. While she liked the finer things in life, she was well aware that she had to maintain an image of almost-but-not-quite poverty in order to keep suspicion off of her.

The building was situated just south of the Lower Westside, in the shadier docks areas where less questions tended to be asked, which suited the Frenchwoman's attitude just fine. 'Evgeniya Dunayevsky' liked her privacy, and less nosy neighbours, the better. And with several drug rings operating inside her 'safety' perimeter now under her thumb for a sort of Robin Hood protection racket, she had enough to pay her bills without working, which allowed her to do only the jobs that amused her or paid extremely well. The outside was just a tad rusty, with peeling paint in patches, and looked almost too stereo-typically run down. All in all, she thought it would be obvious to the right people it was a supervillain lair, almost a challenge to whatever geniuses might be working with the authorities. So far no one had taken her up on it.

Waking up from her afternoon alcohol-induced nap, Zoé sat up out of her bed to the ringing of a cell phone, lifting her brown waves of too-long hair out of her face and squinting at her 'night stand', which was a milk crate. Four phones sat on the crate, set up in a specific order. The first was for Evgeniya, and had contacts for restaurants, galleries, concert venues, her agent, and all the other myriad phone numbers one built up living a normal life. The second was her mercenary number. Not a whole lot of people had a direct knowledge of the number itself, but several brokers knew it, and it also had an attached email address. This was for getting her real work. It had been disappointingly quiet the past few weeks. The third phone was very specifically not listed, and had a vast array of extra security measures programmed into and attached to it, and was the only way to contact Wraith. Two people in the world knew that number, and they only called it in emergencies. The fourth was listed under her real name, and was linked by false GPS traces and telephone providers to Genoa. It only existed in case her sister needed something, as she was the only family member Zoé gave a shit about and was still alive.

It was the second phone which was ringing. She grumbled under her breath, swung her bare legs out of the bed, and picked it up, asuming a near flawless Russian accent as she did so. "Da? Who is calling?"

"Forge, it's Sophia. Need your help right now!" Zoé knew that name. It belonged to a vampire, which was a concept that no longer surprised her like it had earlier in her life. After all, she threw fire. Listening closely, she could hear gunfire and screams in the background.

"Emergencies and hazard pay are expensive, Sophie. Can you afford?"

"Damn it, you can name your price later, but the club is under attack, and-"

"And?"

"Just get over here!" The call ended. Zoé stared at the screen as it flashed for a minute before displaying the clock, which read at 19:02. Merde, she thought, things must be terrible if the club is being shot up. However, she was not inclined to rush on anyone's account but her own, so she took the time to stretch before she actually got out of bed. Wearing nothing but a loose T-shirt and some underwear, she crossed through the surgical curtains and over to her kitchen, grumbling the whole way in French.

"Shit-tastic way to start the day. They can be under emergency all they want, I am not going anywhere until after I have had breakfas-" She stared at her cupboard. Nothing but a few stale crackers and an empty box of cereal. In the corner she spotted a pair of dusty tea packets. The fridge yielded a single apple suitable for eating. "Damn, Zoé," she muttered, "You have got to go shopping later." Sighing wistfully at the thought of waffles, she tossed the apple on the counter and stepp back three paces. Eyeing the distance between herself and her belongings carefully, she stripped out of her clothes and tossed them as far as she could. Satisfied nothing would be damaging except the concrete floor, she flipped her mental 'switch' and let her power start flowing. A second later and the air around her skin shimmered from heat. Three more and it glowed, searing and vaporizing any dirt that might have built up on her skin and hair. She held it for a full minute before letting everything cool off again, then walked over to the counter, bit into the apple enough to hold it in her mouth, and wandered off to get dressed in her 'work clothes'.

7:36 pm local, Club Morte

Zoé stared around as she slipped through the wall at the back of the club, having avoided the emergency crew working the scene. Even with the weird vision being invisible gave her, she could see the marks of ash piles where Sophia and the other undead might have been. Bullet holes riddled everything, and there were almost literal piles of bodies being sorted though. Blood splashed the walls, floors, and every conceivable surface. Obviously, it had been a busy night.

For her part, the villainess wasn't particularly sad or angry about the killing. Even to her warped morals, vampires were not exactly people one could rely on. The club patrons were probably a bunch of drugged up sycophants and hedonists, and while she was herself all for enjoying herself, mindless dancing and drinking weren't exactly her forte. No, it was the loss of revenue, or at least potential jobs, that frustrated her. Sophia had sent several lucrative opportunities to her in the past, and she had been very generous in bonuses for well-done work. She hadn't been a friend, but as a business contact, she had been valuable. The loss was going to effect Zoé's lifestyle, and that was unforgivable.

Turning away from the crime scene and walking back through the wall and alleyways that had gotten her there, she moved several blocks and found a hidden nook to shift back into the physical world, then sat back with her head against the rough brick and pulled out her phone. Once the signal came back, it immediately buzzed, notifying her that she had a new message. It was from her contact with the Syndicate, someone she had never met and didn't even know their name. But again, jobs had been given from this number, and they hadn't fucked her over yet. She entered her passcode and looked through the message, containing a link to a video on a private server, along with the message: You need to see this. Call after. Zoé snorted in derision. Call after, indeed. Still, curiosity had its way, and she pressed her thumb to the screen to follow the link.

Several minutes later, she still sat against the wall, staring at the now idle device. What the fuck, she thought. Who the blazes thinks this was a good idea? But then she thought of the club. Surely that had been one of these so-called Hounds' 'known threats'. How many other job sources had been hit? Did they know to look through the computers of these targets? She was mildly offended she hadn't been targeted, but consoled herself with the thought that even if they knew about Wraith or Forge, her security was too tight to allow them to find her or her operations.

She got herself up, ghosted into invisibility, and made her way back to her car, still several blocks away. Driving back to her home, however, a thought struck her. Not only had these bâtards hit her sources of income, but they were a direct threat to her, as a metahuman. And even worse, they posed a threat to Émile, and that, above all else, meant that they must die. Grimacing, she gunned the accelerator, racing down the highway back to the docks so she could plan for a way to find and hurt the fuckers.
So I made a villain.

Character you have created: Zoé Lambert
Alias: Кузница (Kuznitsa), Wraith, Forge

Speech Color (Actually say what you're using): n/a for now.
Character Alignment: Villain
Identity: Secret

Character Personality: Zoé does not give one iota of care about anyone other than herself. Having no close relations, no one she trusts enough to call friend, and no real job or other form of even marginal social contact has left her somewhat askew on what still counts as good or bad company. She's also a loner, preferring to stay in her lair and play video games, doodle, read, or other activities that require other people to participate. Part of this is the isolation her powers force on her, as even with practise she has not gotten full control of them, and tied as they are to her emotional state, her volatile temper makes her more dangerous than it would in a normal person.

She has no regard for property law, and steals whatever she desires, or the cash to get it. She maintains her cover identity only as a front for where she gets the money, and will happily buy illicit goods from whomever has them. While she doesn't take hallucinogenic drugs due to the loss of control of her powers, she is more than happy to do some of the lighter things. Whiskey, however much she might like drinking it, usually results in her having to buy new stuff or move.

Internally, Zoé is lonely, blaming her powers and not her behaviour for driving away everyone she once cared about. She misses her family, but the way they split left her very much blaming them incorrectly. She drives herself further into villainy every day, trying to drown her problems in wealth and booze, and is extremely self-destructive. If she's not stop, she may begin eroding her own rules, which include no killing women or children, no unnecessary harm (though her definition of necessary is different than the norm), and not robbing the poor. She likes to see herself as a "noble" thief, though she's as greedy as any of them. She also enjoys rubbing her getaways in the faces of heroes and the authorities, sometimes putting herself in more danger than she would normally get into even doing the job she's bragging about.

She is intelligent, far brighter than most, and enjoys logic puzzles and challenges to her mind. She's also bright enough to realise the path she's on is not one destined for a long life, but she depressive enough and far enough along to think she's stuck, and the buzz from getting away with things tends to chase away her doubts, at least temporarily. She is also smart enough to realise the advantages her stelath powers give her, and has attempted to keep them as secret as her identity, and has been so far successful at it.

While working and in combat, she tries to maintain the advantage of surprise as long as she can, manipulating civilians or staying invisible until she makes a decisive move, then fading back into obscurity when she can. If she can't, she will go for a blitz strike, creating heat, fire, smoke, and launching intense, focused attacks to stagger her opponent until they either cannot fight back or lose track of her long enough for her to slip away. She doesn't typically want to fight any longer than she absolutely has to, and will only go toe-to-toe if given no other way out. She refuses to purposefully kill, but she is well aware of how dangerous her fire powers are. She is much more comfortable using the threat of them than actually causing damage, but if she's forced to, she will not hesitate to burn those in her way.

Uniform/costume: Zoé wears normal, everyday colours and clothes when she's not working. When she is, her costume involves greys, browns, and muted other colours, varying clothes between jobs so she never has the same look twice in a row. Her body suit is black and grey with ember red seams. While the bodysuit is skintight(because that's what supers wear, right?), there are strategically placed pieces of armour, that both protect vital areas like her kidneys and joints, as well as disturb her body line enough that anyone who can see through her power can't identify her later on. She also wears a mask that covers her cheekbones, chin, eyebrows, forehead and hairline, bride of her nose, and ears, somewhat like a luchador mask. The nature of her powers make it so that she must leave the rest exposed. The body suit itself and all armour bits and made by an inventor she commisioned to be completely fireproof.

In combat, she will slag metal into plates, cool them off, and use them as armour, either keeping them on her or floating just away from her.





Origin Info/Details:

Zoé grew up very well, in a nice country/suburban home outside Orléans, and spent summers at her grandfather's vineyard along with her brother, though a fight about schooling stopped those visits when she was twelve. While she loved both her parents and her grandfather very much, the rift between them was enough to drive her to sullenness, and she began acting out more than most teenagers would, typically with petty crimes and defiance of her parent's authority. Shortly after her fifteenth birthday, she joined Les Chiens Sanglants, a local gang, and within a year had fought with her brother, had a huge row with her parents, and ran away to be with her gang full time.

Her turning sixteen, after a month with the gang, brought with it unexpected changes, her powers awakening full bloom during a fight with another girl who had insinuated she was sleeping her way up the ranks, an accusation both untrue and offensive. Not knowing what was happening, but having some instinctive grasp on her newfound abilities, not everyone was killed in the resulting blaze, but she found herself homeless. However, power called her subconciously, and after a month of practise, she had mastered all but the more subtle aspects of her powers, and swiftly turned it to making herself more comfortable.

With cunning manipulations and several low profile robberies, she amassed a small fortune, and set herself up as a "mercenary villain", handing out her number to select trustworthy individuals and remaining on call for jobs. She has worked several of these, and her front as a legitimate painter with an unknowing agent, along with private investing, covers her profits quite well. Aside from smash-and-grabs and bank robberies, she has done jobs ranging from blackmail and spy-work to smuggling small, high value items and arson. She is building a reputation as a volatile but trustworthy "co-worker", and is careful to avoid any connection to her civilian identity.

Zoé's hobbies include painting, glasswork, and pottery, cello and oboe (her parent's insistence), and video gaming. Despite her easily frustrated nature, she seems to have enough patience for these tasks. She is also fluent in her native French, Russian, and English, knows her way around a computer, is good enough with numbers to invest privately and successfully, and smart enough to cover both of her identities so their "off times" don't coincide enough to arouse suspicion. She is well versed in physics, as her powers required her to have some knowledge of thermodynamics, and she is also knowledgeable in calculus, biology, chemistry, and geology, though she has no formal secondary schooling in these subjects.

She is power hungry, and is actively attempting to learn how to be a successful criminal mastermind, though it has been slow going because of her cautionary attitude. She is willing to take the long road, however, and has set herself up with a third identity, Wraith, in order to manipulate gangs, villains, and the like and try to gain her own territory in her adopted home of Los Angeles. She is careful to only speak Russian or English on jobs, so as to avoid anyone looking for a French girl.

Hero Type: Energy (fire), Psychic, Other(maybe shapeshifter)
Power Level : World
Powers (Be Specific):
Temperature Manipulation: Zoé has extremely adept control over temperature, being able to shift the temperature in areas in the following definition:
-As small in volume as a child to as wide as she wishes;
-Within two hundred metres of her, in line of sight only:
-As fast as her maximum within a minute in a slightly exponential graph as she pours more or pulls out energy into an already energetic situation(putting more heat to heat up air that is already heating up the air around it), or as slowly as she wishes;
-The heating can begin to spread to areas out of her control;
-Temperatures between 50F(10C) to 4200F(2315.6C);
-If concentrating on an object only, she can flash the temperature up to her maximum in less than a second. She CANNOT do this to people, however, and relies on heating their clothing, weapons, armour, or the air around them.

Pyrokinesis: She can form, control, and move in apparent defiance of physics, any fires within her range, able to throw fireballs, put out or enlarge flames, start fires on flammable objects, render things fireproof(with concentration), shot jets of flames from her hands, and even go as high as doing the same with plasma. She has enough control to make shapes and little figures out of the flames, though they are not in any way independent and she has to mentally control all of their movements.

Temperature and Disease Immunity: Zoé is completely immune to all heat and cold based effects, from fire and ice, to ambient temperatures, to lasers, radiation, and the depths of space (though she'd still need proof against pressure and the ability to breathe). When infected with any sort of bacteria, virus, or other disease vector, she can heat her body to the point that the offending organism cannot survive. She also is, oddly, immune to any smoke created with her power.

Alternate Form: If pressed, Zoé can turn her body temperature up to the point where the air around her ignites, or even to the point her own flesh ignites, though this does not damage her. At this point, she is incapable of dropping the temperature around her body fast enough to counter the heat pouring off of her body. She has the capability of pushing this far higher, up to turning into a walking form of plasma, but she is too scared of it to try. With her minor telekinesis, this allows her to fly, though not at any spectacular speeds, 60mph at most

Minor Telekinesis: Anything Zoé is controlling the temperature of, she can also move about with her mind, either keeping it hovering around her, or give it enough thrust to launch somewhat like a short toss. She can do this with anything weighing up to 600lbs(272kg), and the lighter the object, the more force she can throw it with.

Minor Telepathic Imagery: Zoé has the ability to project, through broad range telepathy, the basis for any given type of person or profession she wants. So, she can project herself as a CEO who simply belong in the board meeting, the police officer who belongs at the crime scene, or the homeless person who no one pays attention to. She CANNOT take on any specific image or disguise, as this power relies more on the perceptions of others than her own. Everyone sees somewhat different things, depending on what they might believe, but on normal people it is fairly foolproof. Anyone with psychic powers is completely unaffected. People actively looking for her, who know what she looks like, have a chance of shaking this off. This obviously does not have any effect on cameras. She can project on a crowd seemingly without limit, as it subverts the viewer's perception, so there isn't much, if any, energy expenditure on her part, and while she has this going, she doesn't have to concentrate beyond maintaining what type of person she wishes to portray. This does include clothing.

Phasing and Invisibility: Zoé has the ability to shift herself in to a form that allows her to move through solid objects as easily as she would air, though in a slower way than usually. She is also invisible to the naked eye when doing this. People she moves through only feel slightly cold and hot at the same time, noticeably, though the source is indistinguishable. She cannot bring people into this form with her, but small objects (such as knives, bundles of cash, hand grenades, etc) can be in her pockets. No object she brings with her will function in this state (cameras will not take picture, guns will not fire, etc). Shifting back and forth can only be done with her whole body, not parts. When she shifts back, matter where she would be is shunted away until there is space for her. If she lets go of an object while "phased out", it returns to it's normal state after thirty seconds, not before, upon leaving her person. While phased, she can see everything in a blurred, colourless way, with very reduced depth perception, but other things trying to stay invisible cannot hide from her in this state.

Enhanced Physicality: Along with her major power suite, Zoé also enjoys enchanced agility, strength, reflexes, and speed, and although not enough to classify her as a powerhouse in those categories, she is powerful enough to stand her ground in a fist fight with some of the more physical heroes, and can easily trounce unprepared normal humans.



Attributes:
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 116
Strength Level: Can lift around a thousand pounds.
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 30 mph on the ground, 60mph flying/ 60mph level reactions.
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: 2x normal
Agility: 5x normal
Intelligence: Genius
Fighting Skill: Untrained


Resources: Large: Aside from a very comfortable savings account in a Swiss Bank, she has several tens of thousands of dollars in cash stashed away, stolen goods worth a few grand in and of themselves, and invested assets that bring her close to a total of one million.

Weaknesses:
-While she is capable of melting knives, and is terrifying if she gets riled up, Zoé has no super power directly related to toughness, and if caught unawares, a single bullet does as much damage to her as to anyone else.

-As stated above, any psychic character can see through her telepathic projections

-While she may be immune to heat and cold, and can burn gases and some poisons out of her system, non-temperature poisons or heat-activated ones are still just as effective. Electricity, as well, maintains its effects, though it won't burn her so much as scramble her nerves, or, if powerful enough, give her seizures or possibly kill her outright.

-She is emotionally unstable, and can be driven over certain edges. Anyone with access to her background and sensitive details could easily push her and manipulate her.

-It is technically possible, if one could find a way to stop her powers from working, to completely disable all of them, excepting that her immunity to temperatures would carry through as a protection against her own powers. Done right, this could trap her in a block of steel.

-She still needs to breathe, eat, sleep, etc, just like normal people.

-While she is immune to smoke inhalation damage itself, anything toxic from burning materials can still harm her.

-Heat from radioactive materials may not burn her, but she is still vulnerable to all the other horrifying side effects from them.

Supporting Characters:
There are plenty of FBI and Interpol agents trying to find her, though not with much luck.
Her estranged family, living in Orléans:
-Mother: Amélie Lambert (43), works at La Scène du Meroubre as a manager
-Father: Hugo Lambert (44), works as a delivery driver.
-Older Brother: Théo (24), an accountant at a law firm in Paris.
-Younger Sister: Émile (15), still in high school, but secretly also has ice powers in almost the reverse of her sister's fire powers
-Maternal Grandfather: Gaspar Moreau (67), owns a small vineyard outside Marseilles

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Yarr
Also verra much interested in this. Especially if'n I could do up a French Resistance fighter.







--15:30 local time
--Lost Haven Outskirts

Three hundred damn miles, and Nicole had finally made it to Lost Haven, the city she planned to make her new home, and hopefully where her nightmares would cease. Any normal person would probably toss down their bag and pass out in the first comfortable spot they could find, but the fifteen year old didn't even remember the last time she slept, or even felt tired. "Or hungry," she thought idly as she walked past a diner in the suburban style area on the west side of what she vaguely recalled being named Carver. For a moment she considered trying to beg some food off of the people inside, just for something to taste, but she swiftly shrugged it off and continued making her way towards the centre of the city.

As she went, things became more and more like back home in the Kitchen, and her mind started recalling that day a month ago. She shook her head, trying to clear her brain. Time enough for recollection and introspection later, for now she had to find out where the hell in this city she could look up a superhero. Or a scientist. Hell, anyone who could tell her how to fix this would be good, though after the journey here she wasn't precisely sure any more whether that was still her goal. After watching Icon and the rest stop the Pax Metahumana on the news, on the radio, and from the street itself, she knew she had to get here, but an ingrained sense of distrust for authority figures had stopped her from going to the shelters and asking for help. After all, she wasn't going supernova or slinging lightning bolts accidentally or turned into some animal person. She was just..."Damn, after two months and I still don't know how to explain this." All she really knew was that she seemed to be like someone out of the comic books.

Thinking about her condition, coupled with the noise of the afternoon street traffic and the smells of the city wafting along with her meandering path finally tore down her internal defences and dropped her mind back into introspection mode. The car driving past back-fired noisily and she wavered on her feet and slumped against the warm brick wall of an alley entrance and slid down into a sitting position, no longer really controlling her body as her mind completely flashed back to that fateful day three months ago.

It was getting dark, street lights just now flickering to life, as she struggled with the flimsy plastic bags and made her way home. Mentally, she ticked off her grocery list in case she forgot anything, though she had spent nearly an hour double checking herself anyway. Dad was probably going to be a little miffed it had taken her this long. Being distracted by this checklist meant she missed the shouting until she rounded the corner of her block and came full into view of the fight.

Ten guys on one side, maybe twelve on the other, spread out in two opposing lines, showing colours she knew to stay away from. They occupied the whole damn street, and were between her and her building. Other bystanders wee already scattering as the first shots rang out, and she ducked behind the dumpster next to her, clutching at the food in her arms and hoping it would end quickly. The scent of fermenting garbage did nothing to make her more comfortable. Thankfully the gun shots did cease fairly quickly, but when she realised she was clenching her eyes shut and opened them, it was not to see a few bodies and an empty street. A sort of green, hazy light filled the street, and thins were happening that nearly broke her brain right then and there.

One of the fighters had begun sprouting awful looking set of bug arms, one was starting to crackle with electricity. Several others were doing even more weird stuff. Looking down at her hands, she realised her vision had gone blurry, and thought that maybe she had been drugged. And then her mind had gone, and she spent the next twelve centuries or eighteen seconds or three galactic ages or a single heartbeat seeing everything that had ever happened, was happening, or was going to happen. And as suddenly as it had started, her vast, expanded consciousness collapsed back into itself, coming a second time very close to completely destroying her mind. She felt queasy, and as her vision cleared, she looked up to see some guy flying at her from across the street, flaring like a firework. And everything exploded.


Nicole came back to the present shaking uncontrollably under her clothes, still slumped against the wall and pale in the face. Several people were staring from across the street, and she knew she must look like a junkie or something. She struggled to her feet, snatched up the duffel bag she carried her few meagre belongings in, and set off as fast as she could without looking like a freak back towards down town. "Stupid stupid stupid," she thought at herself angrily. "Way to keep a low profile, dumbass." Not that she could control it. Her mind had been torturing her all the way across the country, and it didn't look like it was going to let up any time soon. "Just gotta keep moving."

Not having a cell phone was costing her, though. With no GPS, and having left the interstate with its helpful signs pointing the way, she had no idea where she was going. A sense of purpose had driven her from the funeral all the way here, and paranoia grounded in being a rebellious and underage girl out by herself in the world had kept her away from any sort of police or anything else. Some helpful asshole was bound to peg her as a runaway and take her in if she wasn't careful, and though she had ditched her ID and everything else that could identify her except the family photo tucked into her vest, she knew that somehow her luck would run out soon enough. She had to reach someone that could help her before then.

--19:10
--Lost Haven Interior, between Little Sicily and Chinatown

With evening closing in rapidly, Nicole made her way across the bridge from Carver into Olympia warily. She flinched for cover every time she saw a police cruiser, trying to both stay out of sight and not look suspicious at the same time, though however weird she must look doing so, she must have pulled it off because none of them bothered stopping. Stepping off of the walkway and onto the normal streets again, she glanced up and down, noting a number of places that marked this as some sort of Italian district, though she had no idea where the borders of it might be. All she really knew for the moment was that she was going to have to find a place to bunker down before a more enterprising peace officer decided to investigate the lost looking teen wandering around as night wore on. In fact, noting a somewhat more marked police presence in the area than she was used to seeing on normal streets, she flipped a mental coin and pressed on towards what she figured was south, moving through alleyways and trying to avoid knots of people.

“When did it get dark,” she thought, looking around as she climbed a ladder behind what smelled like a Chinese restaurant. Getting to the top, she saw only vent ducts and a shoddy looking air conditioning unit, which would probably make for a decent back rest while she slept. She was just about to mount the top of the ladder and poke around on the roof when the sound of shattering glass caught her attention. As swiftly and quietly as she could, she moved to the front of the building behind a sign for the restaurant and looked down.

Several men in dark clothes stood around, arguing in harsh whispers in some foreign language

<Is this going to take for-fucking-ever, man?>

<I don't know, shit for brains, the last one took maybe five minutes.>

<Yeah, well, I don't like being this close to the police line.>

<Hey, shut the hell up for twenty seconds, morons.>

The last phrase had been said by a really beefy looking guy off to one side. Unlike the rest, he didn't have a gun. All of them looked Asian, and she could swear they were speaking Japanese or Chinese, but she didn't know any foreign languages at all. Not that it mattered. “Who robs a friggin' restaurant,” she asked herself under her breath. Another guy climbed out of the window, this one covered in tattoos underneath his cheap suit.

<All done in there. Let's get the fuck out of->

Nicole's world went loud and white for a brief moment, and she felt herself flying through the air without any sense of direction before hitting the ground. As her eyes adjusted to the new light conditions, she noticed that she was now lying in the street, covered in brick dust, and the roar of flames and falling debris filled her head. She tried fighting it for a second, but her mind flickered back to memories again.

She woke up buried under a layer of broken bricks, water pouring down to clog her nostrils from a broken pipe somewhere up above her, though she was upside down. Someone nearby was screaming, though she couldn't tell if it was from panic or pain and she was too disoriented to sort it out. She shifted and a brick fell away from her face, revealing a street covered in rubble and bodies. Even upside down, she recognised Miss Tuttle, broken and bloody, lying twenty feet away, her eighty-three year old eyes staring sightlessly into the sky. Which meant she was in the corner of her own building. Panic overtook her and she struggled out of her awkward position, chunks of apartment falling around her, and she slid down a cascade of ruined lives to rest on another body, covered in gang colours and blood.

Distant sounds of fighting and panicked mobs reached her ears, and distantly in her mind she recognized that the green haze had gone away, leaving everything much darker than it had been before she had lost consciousness. She had no idea how long it had been, and everything was blurry. Painstakingly slowly, she turned her head, dreading what she knew she was going to see.

Her apartment, where she had been born and raised for fifteen years, was a smoking crater in the side of the building. Apartment 212, just below hers, was a pile of rubble. The floor of Miss Tuttle's apartment had collapsed into hers, the oven from the old lady's kitchen dangling from what was probably an open and leaking gas line. And there, sticking out of the ruined wall of her room, was her older sister Abby's arm, recognisable only because of the bangle bracelet Nicole had given her just two months ago for her birthday. Nicole's vision went red with rage.


Coming back to the present, she heard the jabber of the foreigners again. She shook her head and pushed herself off of her face. Still nothing hurt, just like always. Looking beneath and behind her, there was a clear trail from where she had slid through broken building chunks that had, presumably, come with her as the restaurant exploded. There was broken glass everywhere from the sign she had been hiding behind. Just next to her was the tattooed guy, who was also getting up, though he looked considerably worse for wear and probably had a broken leg from the way he was moving. A word clicked into Nicole's brain, which she uttered out loud without thinking, venom dripping from every syllable as rage consumed her mind. “Yakuza.”

The guy looked up and sneered at her. “The fuck you talking about, little kwailo biaozi?” He spat blood on the ground in front of him and struggled to his knees, wincing from some internal injury. He held up his jacket, revealing a green silk shirt. “Yu zhizhu and very much better than those Japanese dogs.”

Nicole slammed her fist into the ground and nearly threw herself to her feet. Her head felt fuzzy. She knew she was baring her teeth. “Japanese or you jee joo or whatever you are. I'm gonna beat the piss out of you for that.” She jabbed her finger at the blown apart structure to her right, lit now only by flickering flames. The man laughed and then immediately coughed out a wad of bloody phlegm, bent over double by pain. “Haaaaa. What're you goin to do, huh?” He raised his head to grin at her again, only for his face to meet her fist coming the other direction at high speed, sending his badly balanced form back to the ground.

Nicole was not heavy. Nor was she a trained fighter. All she had going for her in any fight had been an Irish temper and moxy. But now, she didn't have to worry about breaking her fingers or bruising herself, and with her mind flooded with pure adrenaline and fury, she didn't even spare a thought for what might happen. As soon as her fist carried through with the first hit, she pulled it back and slammed it into the side of the guy's head. This repeated for several strikes before something slammed into her side and carried her away from the man. She vaguely recognised it as a really big arm in a torn suit before her vision jerked. Her brain found an answer as a fist slammed into her gut, though she only felt a slight pressure from the blow. “The big guy is hitting me. And he tackled me.” Furious both at the interruption and the presence of another bomber, she began flailing wildly with both arms, trying to land any sort of damage on the bastard. In return, he grabbed her by the neck with one meaty fist and slammed her down onto the pavement. Even as he did so, her left foot swung up and caught his knee. Her soccer training had given her a kick like a mule, and he buckled and backed up, grimacing. She got up, took up what she thought might look like a serious fighting pose, and grinned at him while he favoured one leg and spat at her. “Looks like a fun night out now,” she thought, and went in swinging.


Berenice had not been happy to spot the adults approaching, which had been just ahead of Amy owing to her vantage point a bit higher up. Her talons had gripped tight enough to start prying splinters out of the fence when the woman screamed, and the approach of even more adults did her mental state no favours. Having only met one adult human in her entire three weeks of existence and come to the conclusion that he had been trying to steal her kill, she was not at all pleased to see more food-thieves. Her brain had also not yet made the connection that the children and the adults were the same species, and, realising that there might be a threat, she hopped around the kids, who were just starting to move forward with placating gestures and shouts, landing between them and the adults. While not necessarily being aggressive yet, she was hopping side to side, head snapping to look at both pairs of humans in rapid succession. Hey eyes were wide, and while they were sized for her head, they were slightly wider than a normal persons, and they were coloured just like an eagles Currently, those eyes had pupils that were very dilated.

With Owen's parents occupied with some strange box that the male was saying things into near his face, the female hanging from his arm and staring at her but not making a move towards the children, Berenice turned to the strangers, glaring at them and bobbing slightly. “You stay away, egg-thief,” she snarled at David, baring her predator's teeth in what she hoped was an intimidating way. “Not care your name Dah-vid. Stay away from the friends!”

Amy moved up behind her, dodging deftly around the half-beating wings and tried to calm down the harpy. “Look, Berry! Hes not trying to hurt anyone. Please listen!'' She gave a pleading look to the man, saying directly to him, “Look, Mister David, she's really not dangerous, she doesn't know any better. She's only been around a few weeks and we don't know where she came from, but she's been nothing but nice to us.” Glancing behind her, she saw Owen over by his parents, trying to calm them down with little success. They had obviously called the police. Amy turned back to the stranger with panic in her eyes.

“The police aren't going to understand! They'll just shoot her or carve her up or something! Please you have to get her out of here!” Turning back to Berenice, who was showing more confusion than anything else, she cupped the harpy's face in her hands and got her to look the girl in the eye. “Berry, you have to get out of here. If you go with the man he can keep us in contact, okay? But men are coming who won't want to talk, they'll just think you're bad and they'll take you away!”

The others were scattering, trying to create distractions so that they had enough time to get their friend out of the area, but Berenice was obviously not happy. She had never seen her friends worried like this, nor did she really have any sense of danger. “Norra danger, Ah-mee. Norra wanna go, wanna stay and play more.” She shot a venomous glare at David and the other man. “Without egg-thiefs.” Amy rolled her eyes exasperatedly and shook her head. “We'll play again another time, okay? But if you don't leave now we'll never get to play again.” That sank in enough to shake Berenice, and she hopped slightly closer to David, eyeing him warily. “Okay, Ah-mee. I will go with Dah-vid-thief, but if he try things funny, I will rip him!” She flexed a talon into the dirt she stood on, trying to give her words weight.
Character you have created: Nicole MacNamara
Alias: Walker
Speech Color (Actually say what you're using): Azure F0FFFF
Character Alignment: Walking the Line
Identity: Secret, trying to keep it that way


(The piercings wouldn't be there, as the holes can't exist. Otherwise good representation)


Character Personality:
Nicole is a scrapper, born and bred in the rough neighbourhoods of Hell's Kitchen to a poor family of workers. She knows life is tough, sometimes overwhelmingly so, but she battles on because really, what other choice do you have? She tries to maintain a positive attitude and see the good in the world, but the past three months have not been kind to her, and it's starting to wear pretty hard. It doesn't help that her hormones are raging about, and not showing any signs of cutting back soon.
There are many things that aggravate Nicole, and those fluctuate day to day. But several things drive her at this point. She thirsts, desires like nothing else she's known before, to satisfy her sense of justice. She knows gangs are horrible, and senseless violence bad, but otherwise her sense of justice is entirely based out of what her working-class father managed to teach her, mainly that 'hard work's rewarded, and good prevails'. She is somewhat arbitrary in what she believes might be just or not, and, for example, will happily smash a man in the face for shoplifting. In short, her responses will most likely be physically violent, and sometimes not proportional.
She has found over the last couple of months that she generally enjoys fighting, which is probably not going to endear her to her idol. Also on her list of not-so-heroic traits: She has no problems stealing to live, though not from the poor. Sneaking her way into places, killing those she thinks deserve it, fighting with the police if they try and take her in; None of this is beyond her. She will do anything to achieve her goals.

Uniform/costume:



Origin Info/Details: Nicole grew up the youngest of three girls born to a poor electrician and his wife in Hell's Kitchen. She had, as far as she could tell, everything she wanted from life, even if she didn't necessarily eat every night and never got to see parks. But she was happy, and tha was important. She did...okay in school, though she was neither exceptional nor all that motivated. Early on, she got the bug to read her older sisters comics books, and when her mom taught her about Lady Liberty, she was fascinated. She grew up thinking that the only thing she wanted to do was to be a superhero. She got her wish in the most horrific way she could imagine.
She missed the news broadcasts warning that Pax MetaHumana was coming, and Nicole was busy bringing groceries back to her house when she had to take cover from a gang fight that broke out nearly on her tenement building's front step. As she crouched, waiting for everything to calm down at least long enough for her to get inside, the crackling green energy washed over her street, and for just a moment, she knew everything. Just as quickly, that knowledge and her memory of it was gone, and she was left feeling slightly nauseous. Trying to figure out what was going on, she peeked up over the dumpster she had taken cover behind. Which was when the street exploded.
Later, she pieced together what had happened. Apparently, one of the combatants near her had gained the ability to explode forward and detonate like a rocket, somehow without taking damage. One of the opposing folks had developed lightning powers, and a host of minor physical abilities may have occurred on both sides. All Nicole knew at the time was that the dumpster had launched into her in a cloud of flying debris, launching her through the brick wall behind her, and everything went dark as a corner of the building collapsed onto her.
Her parents were both killed in the building's collapse, and one of her sisters was killed by fighting in the streets during the mass panic that occurred. When she woke up and found out what happened, Nicole nearly lost her mind then and there. But the news broadcasts in the area included mentions of the heroes fighting to stop what had killed her family, and somewhere deep down, her mind latched on to the hero Icon as the one who stopped it from happening to any further cities, despite the reality of it being a whole confederation of heroes. She spent several days learning what she could about him, and then, grabbing some gear to keep herself hidden so she didn't get taken in as a runaway, she began the long trek to Lost Haven. She aims to become his apprentice, or at least learn how to hero, and stop things like the Pax Metahumana event from ever destroying another family. Since she is underage, she has had to make her way to the city on foot

Hero Type (Select one): Brick

Power Level (Select one below): Street
Powers (Be Specific):

Set Adrift: Nicole is caught outside of time, temporally unset. Her position in time varies greatly, so much so that, using the "Trousers of Time" or branching dimensions explanation of Multiverse Theory, she exists as the same person in all possible universes, though not physically, because all of those incarnations of her exists at the same point in time, the present. Mentally and spiritually, she is normal, but anything that attempts to affect her physically would have to affect her for all of time, all at once.
Effectively, she is conventionally invulnerable. Kinetic impacts, energy, poisons; nothing can affect her for her entire existence at the moment it happens, and thus is negated entirely, not even capable of breaking the surface of her skin. This also means nothing can change her body from the point she was temporally destabilised. She cannot starve, cannot suffocate, and will not age. Her muscles cannot be damaged, so she enjoys a slight increase of strength over average humans, and can lift more than she should be able to because she doesn't have to fear bone breakage or soft tissue rupture.
Oddly, this does not affect her memory like it logically should, and neural pathways can still form, though only in her brain(see below about muscle memory). She is also slowly losing any sort of fear, due to her complete inability to encounter things that cause her pain. That could change, given what she might face off against later.

Attributes (Select one at each category):
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 127 lbs
Strength Level: Above Human, but not normal meta levels
(Her only augment to strength is not suffering muscle,tendon, or bone damage)
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Human
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Effectively limitless
Agility: Normal human
Intelligence: Average
Fighting Skill: Untrained

Resources: Minimal
Weaknesses:

She does not age. She is fifteen. While she might enjoy immortality for a little bit, she will never be physically an adult. She will never be taken seriously as an adult. And she is permanently in the final stages of puberty, unable to ever escape the ravages of hormonal fluctuations.
Anything that ignores one's temporal position can affect her as per normal. This means she is susceptible to magical enchantment, psionics, having her soul ripped out, and other things like that. Directly damaging magic, such as hurling a fireball at her, however, still has no effect. Theoretically,if one could do enough damage to affect her for all of time, one could wear down her physical defenses and damage her, but in practise this would be almost impossible except for extremely powerful speedsters.
She isn't all that bright, and as a fifteen year old is convinced that she knows exactly how the world works, despite any evidence that other people might know more than her(with the exception of Icon). While that might change a little over time, it will never completely go away.
Despite being undamageable, she is still subject to all of the other normal physics a one hundred and twenty-pound girl might face. She can be buried in rubble and rendered immobile, launched into space to adrift forever, sunk to the bottom of the ocean, tied up, etc. Her natural strength can only go so far.
Speaking of strength, her unchanging body comes with a curse. She was somewhat strong for her age due to some sports training, but she while she will never suffer muscle degradation, she will never gain muscle mass, either. No matter how much she might need out of her muscles, they will never grow any stronger. She will never get any more flexible, never get any faster, never gain muscle memory for martial training.
Being undamageable has some psychological effects, as well. Nicole is completely reckless, having no concern at all for tactics, delicate situations, or really anything beyond completing her task. She also has a tendency to forget what might hurt or kill normal people.
If anything should infect her somehow, while she would be immune to ill effects, she is the perfect carrier for disease. And no known medical test can possibly work on her, returning nothing but errors or blank screens, needles unable to puncture her skin, etc. Though she can produce saliva, so that's something.
She has no sense of internal timing anymore, saving for those reflexes needed for combat. So while she can time and dodge a punch if she needed to, she is constantly late, having no idea what time it might be even from moment to moment. This effect of her displacement also causes her vision to be slightly blurred in a way no corrective lenses can correct, as her eyes see everything both slightly ahead and behind of its actual position in the present.

Supporting Characters (Does your character have a significant other? A mother? Friend? Who are they, what do they have to do with your character?): Her sister Alice is missing and presumed dead. Everyone else is dead, and as she is also presumed dead, no one is looking for her at the moment.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Think I got it down, now.

Edited to drop her strength.
As had been her habit from the beginning, Berenice had woken today with the rising of the sun. Blinking sleep from her eyes and stretching her arms to their full extent, she stared around her little nest. The blown out remains of the small cabin had given her plenty of materials to work with, even a few bits of wooden walls left intact, so she had scavenged a few tarpaulins from the area and stretched them, lean-to fashion, from an L-bend in the remaining structure, forming a covered area of perhaps ten feet across and fifteen long. Inside this she had built a real bird's sort of nest, a drift of twigs carefully assorted and woven into a basket shape, lined with stolen sheets from clotheslines and bits of other soft materials to form a surprisingly comfy bed. Her body shape did not lend itself to lying stretched out as humans did, so she slept much like her avian cousins, in almost a squat, and was content with her arrangements.

The nest faced out into the woods to the north-east, towards Lost Haven, a name she had learned in the past few days. The corner of the wall functioned much as it had been designed to, despite lacking the top third of itself, and blocked the winds off of the Atlantic without taking them directly. On the lee side, the charred wooden flooring was mostly still covered in rubble, though the area immediately outside of the nest had been inexpertly cleared. Fishing line had been strung in several spots between prominences of shattered wood, and from these hung a dizzying array of objects, anything from coins and gum wrappers to small toys, brightly coloured pebbles, a bottle cork, several pieces of broken glass, and most confusingly for human viewers, a carefully folded green napkin.

Not that this location saw any human traffic, even when the cabin had still been whole, a fact that the previous occupant had enjoyed immensely before the accident that had blown him, his laboratory, and most of his reagents out into the water, for the cabin sat on the edge of a short sea cliff, a rocky uplift of the shore that within even a few hundred years might break off into the sea. Even now, the approach up to the place was full of spots where loose or jagged rock made footing treacherous, evidence that the promontory was slowly being pulled into the ocean below. Even the grass had ceased growing except in tufts this far out, reducing the likelihood that someone might want to hike out to it.

The mage who created Berenice had certainly never questioned why anyone had built a house this far out and away from civilisation, taking it as a boon that it existed at all. Berenice questioned it even less, as with no frame of reference for what might have been normal, she had no reason to assume anything was odd.

Later on that summer morning saw Berenice take flight for her first hunting trip of the day, hopping up onto her little wall and then spreading her golden brown wings out and diving off towards the water, only to pull up and wheel about towards the woods. Her approach, as always, caused the nearby seabirds to scatter, and it took almost an hour for her to spot a pair of oblivious squirrels sitting on an exposed branch. Thankfully for her grumbling stomach, they remained oblivious for the remainder of their very short lifespans, and she brought their bodies back to her nest to feast upon. Having only been alive for a few weeks as an adult, she had accumulated an astonishingly large pile of bones in her little scrap pile on the opposite side of the house. After having eaten, and remembering watching her little human friends carefully put their food remains into bins, she eyed the pile. Several bones with pleasing structures(a small dog pelvis, seven rabbit femurs, and the skull of a wood pigeon) were plucked from the scraps, having been picked clean by the luckiest ant colony in the area, and tied up onto the lines with the rest of her baubles. Having extracted what she wished, she examined the rest of the scraps, trying to figure out where she was going to get a bin that she could carry back.

Scouting for such an object took up a good portion of the day, and by the time of her afternoon meal (an unfortunate stray cat), she had concluded that the task was virtually impossible. She decided to consult with her experts on matters of human things, and made her way to the park overlooking the beach in West Lost Haven. The children who knew her were named Amy, Robbie, Ted, Owen, and Laura, and they had not seen their strange friend for several days, making them somewhat anxious that something had happened to her. It was these five that had taught her much in the past few weeks, including clothing herself, picking up, the necessity of keeping one's house neat, how to play hide and seek, why school was important, and so on. They had yet to broach the subject of why she was odd while they were normal, in part because they weren't exactly sure themselves, though more because the local news was always filled with fantastic stories of spectacularly strange things. And since demon invasions marked significantly higher on the list of Things That Worried the Parents than a bird lady, they simply assumed that she knew what she was about, despite her clear lack of domestication.

As she braked her wings and landed to perch on the safety railing, gripping the steel bars with her powerful talons, the five happened to be the only children at the park, unburdened by the presence of adults thanks to the proximity of their houses. They ran up cheering as she settled herself in her customary pose, the corners of her wings draping across the points of her shoulders to enclose her body. She grinned at them and said, “Krrrak! How are the young on this day?”

The kids halted a polite distance from their friend. Despite their best efforts, Berenice had yet to master the art of bathing to a point of smelling at all tolerable, though she managed to keep herself free of blood or gore sticking to her. She still, however, smelled powerfully of bird and unwashed human skin, so they tried not to get too close. Amy waved at her, the red-headed ten year old de-facto leader of the group by virtue of force of will. She spoke up, saying, “We're okay, birdbrain. Where have you been? We were worried you got nabbed by the police!”

Berenice shook her head. “No, no police. Trying to clean house like you say to. Very difficult. Much to be done. Need a bin.” She glanced across their faces and singled out the tow-headed Owen. “Ow-win, where to get bin like that?” She gestured towards the garbage cans near the entrance of the play area. Owen glanced back to it, then turned back and shrugged. “I dunno, Berry. I think the city must put 'em there, but I don't know how to get one.”

Amy frowned, thinking hard. “I think my Dad said we got ours from the Wally World, I think they got them there.”

The siren tilted her head to one side as she ingested this. “Where this Wally World at? Who rules it?”

Laura pointed off into the city. “Over that way somewhere, I think. By the highway. I don't think they have a king, though.” Robbie shook his head. “The manager's kinda mean, but he doesn't have a crown or nothin'.”

Owen stared at the bird woman for a moment. “Something tells me, Berry,” he said, careful not to say anything too upsetting, “that they won't let you in.”

Berenice looked at him quizzically again. “Why, Ow-win? Am I not allowed? Is it a club, like you?”

The children looked at each other warily. This was one of those uncomfortable subjects. While they had made it abundantly clear that they didn't care that she was part bird, they had not introduced her to any adults, only speaking to their parents about 'our friend Berry', which got the usual response whenever they came up with their latest hare-brained scheme for the day. As a precocious group of kids, they found this exercise exasperating, but they were also well aware that even in a town as odd as Lost Haven, and even in a loose a district as the area near the college campus, and even in as weird a times as had occurred since the modern events they had seen, taking Berenice anywhere public aside from their meetings in the park was likely to cause no end of trouble. So they had been painstakingly slow in introducing even the idea of her to their parents, and certainly weren't about to do something as brazen as shopping.

But these were complex subjects, ones they weren't really able to fully grasp themselves. Trying to explain ideas about racism or, in this case species-ism, to a girl who hadn't even grown up in their culture (or any culture, really) was a little beyond their abilities. Most of their efforts to train her in human activities was in an attempt to normalise her enough that their parents wouldn't freak out at her introduction, something the group had been carefully planning for the past few weeks. They were also aware, on a semi-conscious level, that however nice they were to her, Berenice was very much a dangerous creature. They only had to look at her feet, whose four-inch talons and grasping toes were gripping the fence somewhat agitatedly even now, to know that. Even her smile was a little un-nerving, owing to the amount of very sharp teeth in her mouth. They had yet to understand that she had even more dangerous abilities.

The beginning of Berenice's real troubles, which had yet to come to a head, had happened on one of her morning hunts. A young man had gone hiking in the woods for a wonderful and sunny Saturday during his summer break from college, and had happened upon her while she was perched on a stump, finishing her breakfast. Berenice wasn't exactly hard to look at, owing to the human body used as her base during her creation, but at that moment she had the remains of a rabbit hanging from one talon, and was holding a bloody chunk in both hands while gnawing at a bone, face and arms up to the elbow smeared and spattered in gore. The man had, quite understandably, panicked, but some wiring in his brain went astray, and instead of fleeing from the 'monster', he had frozen, slowly reaching for his belt. Being an experienced outdoorsman, he had his cell phone, a pocket knife, and bear spray at ready availability. With one hand he opened his phone's camera, while with the other he held out the spray, aiming at her with both.

Some internal danger sense notified the harpy that she was being watched, and her head snapped up just as the flash from the camera, which the man had forgotten to disable, went off. Startled, more instincts had taken over, and her hindbrain thinking she was under attack triggered her primary defence. So she screamed.

The piercing shriek rang about the woods for a significant distance, startling birds out of nests, sending fluffy animals scurrying for burrows and scaring the bejeezus out of other hikers in the area. However, the poor sod who had triggered it was far worse off, standing only forty feet from her. As the leading edge of the sonic blast hit him, his eardrums burst, and his mind reeled from the wave of magic that rolled along with it. Conscious thought was impossible, his perfectly normal human brain having no defence whatsoever leading to a mass disruption of neural pathways as it scrambled to find a way of dealing with this. Berenice had only let off a short burst, perhaps three seconds, but it left the man a gibbering mess, and he had fled into the woods, heedless of obstacles or reasoning. The harpy went back to her meal, satisfied that she had defended her kill from what her brain now knew was a food thief. And a phone lay on the path, screen broken but containing a video that would be very concerning to anyone viewing it.

This having happened several days ago, the man had been found, dried blood still on the side of his head, muttering to himself deafly and wandering the woods. The police had just today pieced together enough of his story to start tracking down where he was attacked, and just that morning another hiker had turned in the broken phone to the park service in case someone had been looking for it. With the GPS still operating, it was only a matter of time before the authorities knew they had yet another strange and dangerous creature roaming the area.

The kids didn't know any of this, and Berenice barely remembered the event, but it was about to be a very significant part of her life. At the moment, however, social complexities were the issue of her day. And she was paying careful attention to he little friends' reactions to her question. “Ah-mee,” she said. They hadn't yet figured out why she mispronounced their names, despite them pronouncing them very clearly when introducing themselves to her. “Tell me. Am I not good yet? Is that why Wally won't let me have a bin?”

Amy, stalwart leader of the group and breaker of bad news when necessary, steeled herself to fudge her way through this conversation with bluster and confidence when she caught sight of something that caused her breath to catch in her throat.

Owen's parents, who earlier that day had told him to be home early so they could visit his grandparents, were entering the park. Their sacred space, their most favourite haunt, violated by the presence of adults! And much worse than merely their presence was that it coincided with Berry's. The meeting they had been so meticulously planning, their carefully laid schemes and hints and ideas, was about to come crashing down around their ears, and Amy could do nothing to stop it, now. She hissed through her teeth and whisper-shouted, “Down, quick!” But even as she said it she knew it was hopeless. Not only were they out in plain view with no cover, but getting their odd friend to understand why she had to hide would take much longer than the scant seconds they had. As it was, Owen's parents had already caught sight of them, and had stopped short in shock. And then Owen's mother screamed.
That's kinda what I was figuring, which is why I only even touched briefly on the police unit thing. And a total of two magic users involved in her backstory at all. The fact that she's not aware of those social constructs might cause some problems? But it's not like she knows enough(or any) magic to get flashy with. I was guessing there'd be maybe the detective and some sort of police...consultant? That was working with him in order to track down and bring back the missing girl and hope no one notices too much. I am also bad at subtext. And pop culture, I guess, because I haven't seen either of those shows?
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