Mintz

Epithet Enchained: An Epithet Erased RP!

Glad to see this much interest! Hoping to see one or two with an eye for this before I commit, but it's still nice to see :)

Epithet Enchained: An Epithet Erased RP!

Heya! Do you like Superpowers? Do you like stuff that makes no sense in favor of being funny? Do you like REAL-ASS GODDAMN SWORDS?! Well, then do I have the RP pitch for you!

Epithet Enchained is an RP concept I'm playin' around with that'll be based on the world shown in the YT series Epithet Erased, and the Anime Campaign it is based on! Of course, it'll be a largely original story beyond the setting, with plenty of chaotic hijinks to ensue :3

My plan is for it to be a pretty free-form RP, with characters from all walks of life. It won't be taking itself super seriously in a lot of ways, but it should still be a fun experience! Just because the setting isn't serious doesn't mean characters can't be! In-between the chaotic storylines we'll be following, I'm sure characters will be able to grow and express themselves along the way.

Anyhoo, hoping to see if there's interest in this kinda thing! If so, I'll be sure to get the RP up sometime soon.

⫸ New World Order ⫷

Been a while, Hitman. xD

Gotta admit though, this does sound pretty darn cool. Personal time willing, I'd be hella down for this!

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:12 PM.

Location(s): Redline Guardians Mobile Fortress

---

---

It had been a painstakingly slow day for the Guardians of Redline; unusual, and to an extent welcome, but also quite strange. The lull in activity of all types, especially of the Parahuman variety, was far from the norm for this city, and thus, a noteworthy concern. Still, it hadn't made today any less dull, even as the fall of night began to grace Redline.

Being a Hero on a day like this could be considered one of the worst points of the job by some, and Risen fell into that category. In spite of being in his thirties, he had always looked youthful, more like a teenager than a proper adult, most likely due to his Power. Just like his obnoxiously long black hair, which always vehemently refused to stay cut; he'd had to let it grow out for years now. It stretched down the length of his body, which was impressive, given that he stood around 6'6 and weighed nearly 300 lbs. of pure muscle. In truth, he looked like one of those anime characters who were 'teens', but were ridiculously ripped for no good reason...Except that he did have a reason, of course.

His deep brown eyes lazily gazed across the Central Station of the Fortress; they'd truly spared no expense on this thing. Even now, he was still mildly bewildered by the fact that they were inside what was essentially a giant floating steel castle. He was currently situated on a coach near the more lounge-styled section of the massive room, which was complete with all sorts of amenities; with all the chairs, tables, couches and more, Jason had to guess just this part of the Fortress could host several dozen people. It made the fact that they only have six members feel...Very small. Lonely, even.

Above that level was more of what you'd expect from an area called the Central Station; terminals and complex systems at work, dozens of screens displaying information that would've overloaded most other people....Except for who was actually manning them right now, that is. On the younger end, though ironically still looking a touch older than Risen himself, was Blaster, his freckled baby-face hidden behind a somewhat clunky-looking visor that was apart of his costume, his curly brown hair needing to be occasionally brushed from his sight.

He was certainly the most energetic of anyone here, Jason'd say. Guy had a passion for this stuff; he found it fun, and not in the thrill-junky way like some did (although he was certain some aspect of that was present). He just loved what he did. A small smile played on his face. That trait was becoming rarer and rarer amongst heroes, he knew. It was something to be treasured. Still, though, he could tell that Mitch was losing enthusiasm too; hours and hours spent scouring the internet and security cams for any sign of real trouble, and yet, nothing today. Biggest thing that popped up on the feed was the stunt Overclock had pulled a few minutes ago, which had elicited a grin from him, but it was brief.

Risen tried to get comfortable again. Siren and Presidio had been getting on his case about how he handled himself, so he was at least trying to take some small steps. Even resting felt like a waste to him, but he would try. His costume didn't make that easy though, given it was actually made from his own hair...Not that that was public knowledge. But, well, he needed something tough that wouldn't weigh him down, and would also help him cover up if he actually took damage. It was a stroke of luck they found out that his hair held onto some of that regenerative factor, even separated from him; once they took some locks and made it into a suit, it would restore itself to that shape even with some serious damage.

...Granted, it meant that his costume was pretty much just a black jumpsuit, for all intents and purposes. Not very flashy, but then again, Risen didn't care too much.

Let's see....Trump Card was out right now, patrolling the streets. If he was struggling with his patience, then it was a shock it took this long for that guy to decide to fuck off. Normally he'd feel uncomfortable with how long he'd been out, but surprisingly, he trusted TC....When it came to doing Cape stuff, that is. He doubted that guy would die off so easily. Of course, though, he was neglecting to do any check-ins with the group back at base, much to Risen's chagrin.

He lifted himself from the couch, stretching with the light pop of bones, grown stiff from what had felt like ages merely lounging around. Jason couldn't even recall a day that had been as dull as this. Surely something would....

The ping of the main monitor caught his eye, looking up to the second level of the Central Station, where Blaster's gaze had also now fallen. An urgent call from the Director, apparently. For a moment, Mitchell fumbled with the controls just from the shock that something was finally happening. "Ack! Dang, c'mon..." Catching himself, the call was received as Fukuda's face took up the screen, the empty Wards lobby behind him (though no doubt some of the kids could be heard off-screen as they walked off with Fashionista).

"Ugh, God....This thing on?" On his end, the Director could still be seen trying to fiddle with things on his end, no doubt having to try and wrap around Tech Wizard's work; he had a penchant for making his stuff far more overcomplicated than necessary, even by Tinkertech standards. "Readin' you loud 'n clear, Director! Uh, heads up though, we've got TC out right now. Want us to call him back before this?" The tinge of Canadian in Blaster's accent became clearer the longer he spoke, but the Director merely shook his head to the request.

"It's fine. You'll have time to fill him in later. Is Risen...? Ah." Having ascended to the higher level by casually hopping up and slipping over the railings, Jason stood at attendance alongside Blaster, with no doubt Presidio and Siren following suit. "The rest of us are accounted for, Director. What seems to be the problem?" In contrast to his youthful appearance, his voice was surprisingly deep and resounding, lightly echoing through the lengths of the Station while they overlooked the city from on-high.

"That's good. Alright, where to begin with this..." Fukuda seemed to be trying to collect himself, figuring out the best way to lay down the facts. Eventually, he seemed to find his resolve and spoke once more. "I know some of you are newer to this, but assuming you've read your share of files, you'll know about the Think Tank; a collection of Thinkers the PRT've gathered up to brainstorm about important topics and the like."

This got a resolute nod from Risen, although Blaster seemingly froze like a deer in the headlights for the bit...And unsubtly opened the files for the Think Tank on a side monitor to piece through while the Director spoke.

Accepting that at least one individual knew what the hell he was talking about, he continued. "A particular individual in the Tank is known as Remembrance; she's a high-level precog, but suffers from heavy bouts of memory loss due to her power. However...She remembered something today."

The Director let this silence stand for a moment. It would've been one thing to get heads-up from the Think Tank in general, but from a precog? It made this feel a bit more....Larger-than-life, so to say. Fukuda continued as the others chose silence over foolish questions. "Apparently, anywhere from right now..." He briefly paused, as if expecting some catastrophic event to occur on cue, which it thankfully didn't. "...To about one to two hours from now, two different events are going to play out. An attack on the mayor's home, and a raid on the Museum of Parahuman History. Of course, when pressed for further details..." The Director pinched the bridge of his nose, his irritation out for all to see.

"...She couldn't recall anything. Thus, we've essentially received a 'heads-up', and nothing more. All we can say is that these attacks are going to happen, and apparently they'll call for some Parahuman intervention. On top of that, the board has decided that the attack on the mayor is far more pressing, and thus, intend to allow the museum incident to be handled by The Wards."

There was an instant reaction among the group, though Blaster got in first. "Uh....Wait, are we talking about the same Wards? The new kids? Most of which haven't even thrown a punch, much less fought other Parahumans?" The Director nodded. "...Well, crap. Is what's gonna happen this serious, or do they just want an excuse to throw them into the fire?" To that, the Director could only shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine here, I'm afraid. But....I was thinking I'd still get a few of you to come with these kids. I'm leaving the exact details up to you, Risen; just be prepared to get into gear when I ring again, alright?"

With that, Fukuda unceremoniously disconnected; there was still far too much for him to do if they really did only have an hour, if that. Thus, the Redline Guardians were yet again left to their own devices. It was only after all was said and done that Fenris, who had kept to a corner in the lounge area, finally crept up the staircase, keeping her distance from the rest...But close enough to hear what she needed.

For a moment, Risen had a hand to his face, clenched tight. It had to be one of those days; a calm before the storm. Judging from what the Director had said, he intended for them not to take action yet, to which he agreed internally, much as it angered him. Moving too quickly could shift the plans involved by their unknown adversaries, and possibly leave them even more clueless that they already were. Still, it was worth something, being able to react the moment the trigger was pulled.

...But the Wards? The kids? Jason couldn't fathom why the higher-ups had decided to pull the rug on them like this. Were they so eager to see them in action...Or was this something to do with Remembrance? Perhaps it had something to do with these kids? Regardless, the situation sickened him to his core. But, as a leader, he had to make a decision.

"....Two members. If the incident with the mayor is considered the bigger threat, I won't take that lightly, but the kids will need some proper back-up. Whose willing to be that back-up?" For their parts, Blaster and Fenris were silent, likely still trying to catch up the situation as it were. It would remain to be seen how Siren or Presidio might respond to this...

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:10 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

She could not believe this!

...Okay, that was a lie. She just couldn't believe something like this would happen on the first day! Everything had been all lined up, nice and smooth; gather them all together, do a bit of meet-n-greet, show them around their personal Headquarters (though Rachel still thought it was an odd choice to stick it underground), get them acquainted with some of the amenities, like the Garage, the Changing Rooms, and definitely the (now poorly named, thanks to a certain addition) Workshop, which....Well, she supposed was still going to happen, but not how she'd envisioned it. And last but not least, maybe get them some celebratory pizza for a day well done (unless Fukuda decided to throw them right into patrols or something....).

Doesn't that sound nice?

Well, it was all getting thrown out the damn window on the whims of the Think Tank. God, she hated her job sometimes. That was the foremost thought on her mind as she strode down the surprisingly well-lit staircase on her way down to The Wards, her light blonde hair kept in a short ponytail as the more unruly ends of her hair hung rebelliously to both sides of her head, refusing to be tucked away and kept in line like the rest. As she continued her descent, the light kept catching brief glimpses of the rest of her; the soft yellow eyes, the handful of freckles dotting her face, and the elegant suit she wore; in contrast to her superior, it was instantly recognizable that Rachel put far more effort into her appearance, to dramatic effect. In spite of her personality, at a first glance, you might even assume she was the more serious and put-together of the pair due to this.

The Vice Director's stride was even and calculated, having traveled down this stairwell quite often as of late, making last minute adjustments to the Wards HQ and ensuring the integrity of the structure, while Fukuda had to handle more vital tasks. Truth be told, she'd wished they had been given more time to liven the place up; the Lounge was scarce as could be, she knew, and could feel more homely, if nothing else. Though with the planned tours at some point, perhaps that would give the wrong impression....

Well, at the very least, this was good exercise. Speaking of, she needed to see about getting Atsushi outside a bit more often, even if it were just for the morning jogs again. Rachel was well aware he'd been doing overtime for weeks on end in preparation for this, and while she wasn't so different in that regard, she knew too well how he let stress pile up. Convincing him to take a break will be a monumental task, but she'd manage somehow....

Finally, she had made it to the end of the well. At first glance, it would appear to be a dead end, with nothing but a strange installation of sort off to the side. Of course, she knew better. She smiled. All the little fancy security measures were a fun new detail to play with in regards to The Wards HQ; Rachel would have to find time to chat with Lockdown about the nitty-gritty of it, she was admittedly curious. Sadly, even amongst Tinkers, that young lady was consistently busy...Oh well.

Placing her palm atop the steel pad, a brief scan crossed over it, giving her a funny little tingling sensation. Was it supposed to do that? Hm. Regardless, when the installation read 'Clear' in green text at the top, she relinquished her hand and stood at attendance, as abruptly, a wall panel nearby the sofa three of the Wards were lounging on folded in on itself, revealing the Vice Director in all her glory. Her....5'5 glory. Okay, so maybe she wasn't as imposing as some individuals, like Fukuda or Risen (now that guy is built...), but she had a presence all her own. One that was usually rather glowing, though at this moment there was a definite edge to it, to those who had grown familiar with her....Namely Fukuda himself, though Morgan might pick up on that vibe.

Smiling to the Wards, and giving a subtle wink to Morie, her eyes crossed paths with the Director's, and they locked....With Fukuda being the first to crumble, awkwardly breaking away from the stare. Rachel just sighed. She'd have time to yank his chain later, and besides, he wasn't the one really deserving of the ire growing inside her. Turning her attention back to the children, her smile returning after that exchange, she began to speak.

"Hello! Hopefully you all remember me from your interviews and tours of the PRT; I'm Rachel Elton, Vice Director of Redline's PRT. I also go by Fashionista when I'm doing some 'off-the-clock' work. Or when I feel like irritating a certain someone." She gives a brief giggle before composing herself once more, as off to the side, Fukuda rolled his eyes.

"You all can call me what you wish, though Rachel's fine! Sadly, due to some...Unforeseen circumstances, we're gonna need to move things along faster than we would have hoped." Another burning stare to the Director, who couldn't muster the courage to meet it once more. "...But enough about that! I'll fill you all in on what's what as we go, and I'll get to show you all your costumes! My favorite part!" She couldn't suppress a little squeak of joy at the thought; there was nothing she loved more than getting to show off her designs! Well, maybe there was....But they were already here. "Follow me!"

Making elegant strides, Rachel approached one of the doorways that littered the Lounge; heavy-set metal doors, built like they were meant for a bunker. A minor precaution, when involving Parahumans as dangerous as some of these kids could be, even if she didn't buy into that very much. It also had a similar installation to the panel she had entered from (which, as an aside, had already closed itself off once more, appearing by all remarks as a totally normal wall again), which she once again put her palm to. A few seconds later, with the brief hiss of pressure being relieved from the high-security doorway, she made her way into the room.

Large, well-made lockers complete with more peculiar scanners lined the walls of this room, the white tiling echoing quietly with each click of Fashionista's heels as she made her way in, getting to the end of the line where two more paths diverged, each marked off with a sign denoting male or female; the actual Changing Rooms, as they were. A brief peak in could tell they were of much the same make as this room, though they had steel benches for seating, and if the Wards looked hard enough, they could make out alcoves for showering as well.

"This is the locker room, with the changing rooms right behind us! Of course, this is where you'll be fetching your costumes, as well as where we'll be keeping those earbuds of yours when you're off-duty. They are PRT property, after all." A soft laugh escaped her, before an equally soft 'Oh!' escapes her. "Almost forgot, you'll all be needing these; personal cards to access your lockers. Apparently my suits still count as Tinkertech, so due to some laws they have to be securely contained for 'safety concerns'." She didn't make her feelings about the topic subtle, with the obvious air-quotes she used to punctuate those so-called 'safety concerns' and the slight venom she put into the start of that statement.

Still, her positive attitude returned quickly and freely, as Rachel personally went around the group to hand the cards off, a stark contrast to how casually and disconnected Fukuda had granted the Wards their earbuds. With that said and done, she returned to her spot near the end of the room, lightly motioning towards the locker, unable to conceal her eagerness at seeing the reactions. She thought she'd done a stellar job with what they'd asked, even if some of them had....Been less than interesting. She so badly wanted the kids to like the work; she'd put too much time and effort into them otherwise.

She even had to collaborate with Tech Wizard for some of them, for God's sake! He's not bad or anything, but trying to work with him is an absolute nightmare. So she could only hope they would appreciate her efforts. Oooh, and she really couldn't wait to see them actually try them on! Oh, she was sure they'd look great! Rachel was already beaming with expectations.

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:07 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Well, that was awkward! Standing idly beside Morie, Beverly passively absorbed the statement Andy made that...She thinks was meant for the group as a whole? That alone was a bit funny, even if she herself didn't always have exactly outstanding social skills. That, and the fact that it was about the closest he'd gotten to acknowledging her beyond a wave. Had she done something wrong? Or...Oh God, it was the confetti thing, wasn't it? Oh, it had to be....Probably thought she was just some weirdo they happened to snatch up for this thing who could only make dumb party favors instead of anything useful.

Maybe that wasn't far off.

She could feel her mood declining again just at the thought of that, but luckily, her intrusive thoughts were cut through with a new arrival. Another one? Honestly, she was sorta surprised; Bev expected it to be a smaller team than what it was becoming, but the more the merrier! She hoped, at least...

The first thing she recognized was just how natural he acted. With the others, at least to some extent, Beverly had the sense they were a bit out of their depth just as she was, but not with Caiden. He strode in with confidence, off-handedly referring to the Director in a way that, while she couldn't quite pinpoint why, felt a tad mocking in tone. But on the bright side, he seemed to completely ignore the horrific confetti incident that had taken place on one side of the table.

She was...Conflicted. On one hand, Bev was in awe of how easily he carried himself even in a situation like this. She liked to believe she came off smooth and natural like that, but knew internally that she certainly did not. And he didn't make any fuss about the mess she made, thankfully. She was painfully aware how weird and dumb it had been for the people who were here for it, much less the newcomers. Still, though, with that casual, calm approach also came a sense of arrogance, or...Maybe cockiness was the right word? Similarly to how she saw Will act, but more...Tangible. Ugh, she was bad at putting stuff like this together. Point is, he was a mixed bag; one she wasn't eager to reach for quite yet. After all...

While she had nearly tugged at Memento to give the explanation that was practically eating at Bev, the elevator dinged once more....Though the occupant was quick to dart out of sight and out of mind. A girl way younger than most of the folks here, she could tell that much right off the bat. After a brief smile and a wave (Braces? Yikes, she could've related to that a few years back too...), she scurried off to the side, securing herself a position on the comfortable sofa in one of the edges of the lounge.

Workshop was eager to return to the subject at hand that felt like it kept getting deflected by each little thing occurring, but she couldn't help but found herself stopped when Jane spoke up, asking a simple question; why them?....W-Wasn't it the same for everyone? Looking around a little perplexed, she came to the sudden realization that, perhaps, not everyone was actually in the same boat here....

If she felt ostracized before, the feeling intensified with this discovery.

If the others weren't here for the kind of reasons she was, well...W-Why were they here? Her mind began filtering through some options, but she immediately ground that to a halt with a harshened brow, physically tossing those thoughts back. It...There had to be a good explanation for everyone. But...She noticed none of the others (beyond Andrew, which honestly, even in her limited interactions with the guy, didn't surprise her) were eager to speak up about their circumstances. Even Jane herself, who had brought it up...

For once, Beverly didn't feel like speaking up.

Y'know, speaking of Andy....Bev could feel her face shift from that forced expression to hold the tide on those vile thoughts to sheer confusion. Did...Did he just compare this whole thing to a gosh-darn Found Family troupe? She couldn't help but stare, baffled. Was....Was he serious? I mean, she appreciated a good movie or maybe some comics or the like from time to time, but they're just stories. Don't exactly apply 1:1 on real life most times. Her opinion was definitely starting to shift on 'Hope'. Sure, she thought he was maybe a little off before, but I mean, what Parahuman isn't? Scientifically speaking, at least, heh....But now, he came off as strangely disconnected from things, and eager for approval from anyone, though especially from a few....Including Overclock, 'course. Sheesh.

Didn't help that immediately after Mr. Director spoke up about the leadership thing (speaking of, talk about scary! Bev couldn't imagine telling anyone what to do, much less a group of Capes!), he went right back around to voting for Overclock. She didn't even recognize the sound as it left her mouth, but she actually scoffed a bit. Seriously, what was his obsession? Plenty of other hero-types to idolize, instead of the Friendly Neighborhood Trespasser. Hmph...

However, she didn't get to dwell on those bitter feelings for long as he...Also asked about their pay? Didn't he even read the contracts? I mean, sure, Bev had skimmed, but even she knew how much they were making! And it was no small sum, either...A bit awkward, truth be told, when she'd have to hide all this extra cash behind her mum's back and not do anything too big with her pay. Maybe she'd just funnel it into more stuff to let her Tinker...

Oh! Or there was that new snow-cone place, Dr. Freezy's! That'd be nice....Was it weird she wanted snow cones when it was cold as tits outside? Maybe.

At this point, it caught her completely off-guard when Morgan referred to her again. Right, the Powers! Admittedly, she wasn't expecting what Memento asked for, but she mentally shrugged it off. If she couldn't trust the girl to give her a nick, then they wouldn't make very good teammates, right? And besides, Bev had already decided she was a friend to her; no need to hesitate with something like this. "Go right ahead!" With a smile, she stuck her forearm out. Truth be told, she barely felt a thing when Morie gave her scratch. Partially because of how little she'd put into it, and also because, admittedly, Beverly got pretty used to bumps and scrapes and the sort in her early days of Tinkering. Even a few scars, luckily out of sight and out of mind. Some of those were downright embarrassing...

She watched intently, not sure what to really expect. In movies and stuff, healing always came with fancy glowing lights and whatnot. This?...Not so much. Granted, the sudden dissolving of her minor mark, only to see it crop up on Memento's arm, elicited a small "Oh!" from the Tinker gal. Transferal of wounds? Wait, no, that didn't quite add up. Something more...Intrinsic going on, but she doubted it was something Morie recognized, given that she herself considered it something so simple. This puzzled look on Beverly's face snapped quickly as Memento spoke up again, trying to explain her power more in-depth.

Even as Morie thought she'd prattled on for too long, the enthralled look on Beverly's face spoke otherwise. She had taken it all in, and was equal parts excitedly intrigued by the peculiar complexities of her ability...And concerned by the very nature of it, like self-harm getting taken to some weird extreme. Still, the sparkle of interest in her eyes was genuine, as was the concern that was soon to follow. For now, though...

"Gosh, that's crazy! So, uh, well, I can't say for sure, cuz, well, it ain't my power 'n all, but I think ya do a bit more than jus' take on wounds! If yer deal really deals with biomass manipulation, it prolly just generates an identical wound for simplicity's sake; yer just handin' off raw material for the, uh, healee's body to work with! Ya could prolly control where it takes that material from if ya put your mind to it!" Beverly beamed, unaware just how much she had prattled on for that, before awkwardly continuing with a new edge of worry in her voice.

"B-but, well...Even if ya got copies, the fact it's still harmin' your body means ya should use it conservative-like. For extreme stuff, y'know? And, heck" She couldn't help but giggle a bit, still in excitement of this thought. "Maybe ya let Janey take a crack at it first! Ooh, I know I'd dig some metal digs, hehe...Maybe, like, multi-tool fingers or somethin'. Aw, that'd be cool as heck!" For a while, Bev seemed ensnared in this thought yet again, wiggling her digits in front of her in amusement. Gosh, that kinda add-on would be super convenient! Though, she did like her normal fingers too....Difficult call.

However, when Overclock spoke up about her ability, from equal parts perhaps slightly unfair annoyance at him, and a desire to respect Memento's own agency in the matters, she puffed up and spoke after Fukuda, too, had tried to push away from such a topic. "Well, all I'll say is that I trust her to handle her own. After all, we're gonna be a team, yeah? I think we all could use the benefit of the doubt for each other, y'know?" Unsubtly, she glanced to Overclock for that last bit, just as much referring to Memento here as she was to herself. Honestly...He seemed to have a talent for taking one thing and blowin' it outta proportions!

Luckily, a nudge from the lady in question snapped her from that negative headspace. "Huh?" Glancing back, she saw her give a nod in the direction of the little braces-gal who had popped up. Oh! Well, that was something she could get behind. And besides, that couch did look pretty comfy. Trotting away from the main table alongside Memento, they both took a seat in the spacious sofa next to Carmen, though Bev did her sit-down a bit more...Audibly.

"Plop! Oooh, they are as comfy as I thought!"

Adjusting her new comfortable seating, she felt it was only right to introduce herself just as Morie had; oh, and speaking of, that name was so cute! It even had a sort of naming thing with her Cape name; Memento Morie....Oh. Oh! While she didn't verbally say anything, after that lightbulb moment, a grin placed on her face for a few moments. Way more clever than Workshop...

Oh, introductions! Whipping around to face Carmen, she gave a bright smile. "Hiya, name's Beverly! Bev for friends. Which we can be, if ya want." She gave a little wink alongside the comment, trying to pull on her natural charm. She's had a few people call her cute before, though she never really knew how to respond to stuff like that. But hey, if it maybe made her feel more approachable (as she always hoped she was), all the better!

For a moment, the three sat in a small silence as Sean was busy introducing himself. Huh...Weird to think it was only now she knew his name, after that crazy incident. Well, didn't change her thoughts on the matter, even if he was acting pretty nice now....Okay, so MAYBE Bev was being a tad harsh. But so was he! As long as he was gonna keep actin' like that around her, she'd play her side too! However, that train of thought was shattered by an abrupt ring near the end of his introduction. Wait, was it...?

Bev almost reached into her coat to try and find her cell, also in the process only now realizing she had still been wearing it. She just about set to taking it off when the surprisingly serious nature of the actual call involving Mr. Fukuda caught her. Something was definitely happening, and she didn't have a good feeling about it. Against her will, her hands had idly found their way back to the Confetti Sphere (name pending) and had begun fiddling with it once more. Strangely enough, she noticed it didn't feel any lighter even after the load it had dropped on her. Odd...

Just as soon as that call ended, he started up another one with....Elton? Oh, Miss Fashionista! Just hearing the name brought a smile; that lady was like Fukuda's polar opposite, which she supposed was fitting, given her position of Vice Director. Apparently he was getting her to come down, though not after what sounded like a bit of a shouting match on the other end. Yikes! Eventually, though, the Director took his seat once more, and gazed across those present.

"Looks like things will be getting interesting today, Wards."

Something about the statement caused Beverly's anxious energy about the whole thing to spike. What did that mean?! Was something serious happening? Were they in trouble somehow? She had picked up on him bringing up the Guardians, how were they involved? Too many variables playing in her head, with nothing concrete enough to work with. She eventually settled to taking a deep, steadying breath.....Just hope for the best.

And prepare for the worst.

She kept tinkering.

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:07 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Caiden. Damn. Some small part of Fukuda almost wished this kid hadn't shown up; his record was poor, even by the standards of the other low bars set by Jane and Wilbur, and his attitude was, well....His entrance spoke volumes to that. When asked for a pair of the earbuds, the Director obliged...Though admittedly, it seems he accidentally put a little too much force into it as it slid across the table, gut-checking the boy briefly before landing on the table proper. "Ah, my bad; must've slipped a bit. Been a long day, you know? Glad to have you, Crosspoint." Straight and to the point, completely sliding off the minor incident before a brow could even be raised over it.

Somehow, the Director doubted it was 'family trouble' that held him from being on time, though it wouldn't do him any good bringing that up now; something to talk to his mother about though, certainly. Still, he actually took a seat. Better than some others...And speaking of others, the smallest of The Wards made her quiet debut as she popped from the elevator and scurried off to the side, as if trying to hide herself in the cushions of the couch.

Can't say he was surprised; while he didn't know all the facts, just from meeting her mom Fukuda had a decent idea of her upbringing, because that woman was a certified hardass. Even by his standards. So she was probably concerned with some form of retribution for tardiness. Y'know, for people like Caiden, perhaps he would humor something of that sort...But he doubted Carmen had done anything to earn it. So, giving her a sideways glance, he said nothing. Just the smallest nod, and the glint of an object hurtling through the air; her set of earbuds, of course. He wasn't certain she'd catch it, even if his angle was, as always, impeccable, but even if she didn't, the cushions would serve as a nice landing spot.

Of course, Fukuda was keeping an ear out for other conversation; namely, the one between Wilbur and Andrew. A manipulator and a kid who seemed to be completely lacking in insight. Concerning. Yeah, he'd need to keep an eye on that development for certain. Still, that meant he caught the boy's off-handed remarks on the leadership position, which earned a roll of eyes from the Director. However, back on the topic of leadership, what Sean spoke of caught Fukuda's interest. "You raise a fair point. In an ideal world, you all could deliberate and handle things amongst yourselves. Ultimately, though..." Fukuda's gaze seemed to turn a bit darker in the moment, gazing across all those gathered. "In situations like these, we'll need someone we can trust to make the right calls in the heat of the moment." He quickly pivoted from that topic though, a small and low chuckle escaping the Director. "Still, it's a bit too early to be pointing fingers on that regards, especially with people you've only just met." That last remark seemed pointed towards Andrew, as he gave the motor-mouthed youth a brief look of...Not quite anger, but perhaps irritation.

"...And even then, once you do have a proper leader, I'll still be expecting you all to collaborate properly and work things out as a team. Under good circumstances, the roll of the leader would effectively just be managing the group as best you can on-field, and occasionally being the...Tiebreaker, of sorts." Of course, normally, leaders would also be expected to keep an eye on their fellow members, both moderating them and being there to extend a hand whenever necessary, but...Well, that was just unrealistic for a bunch of messed-up teens like this; he'd leave it to Fashionista.

His attention was broken off from this interactions as -quite shockingly- Jane spoke up to him, inquiring why they in particular were chosen (with a slight assumption of the latest arrivals also being the last). Great. She asked a question where pretty much any answer that had a modicum of the truth would sound bad in some regard. What, was he gonna say 'Oh, we just cast a wide net, and you're the ones who happened to get on board.'? No. And that's not even mentioning Jane herself or Wilbur, who have quite specific reasons they were brought aboard, beyond, of course the kindness of Fukuda's (or more accurately, Vice Director Elton's) heart. Hm...

"Without getting too into it at this juncture, you were all chosen for your own reasons, and in the case of some of you, you approached us." When making that claim, his eyes ever-so-briefly gazed over Andrew, Beverly, Aaliyah and Morgan. A strange bunch, but they were all ones who willingly got involved in this. Somewhere deep in him, a pang of...Something, hit him. The fact only four of them were here under, at least seemingly, honest pretenses stung. The others were practically press-ganged in, even if it didn't look that way for some of the circumstances.

"As for you lot being the last, well....That may be true for now. Complications might've arisen with other applicants, so they may show up in the future." That was the best he could manage without blatantly saying 'Hey, I pretty much got into contact with every Parahuman youth I could get my hands on, and you're the lot that popped up'. It would have to do. Of course, though, Gray Man had to open his damn mouth about them just happening to be the ones whose guardians were willing to sign off for this.

Hell, half the kids here barely had guardians.

"You may have a point there, Wilbur. Most people know the risks with this kind of position, and are rightfully afraid. Still, perhaps we can avoid digging into everyone's circumstances, mmm?" He kept his polite air, but the intention behind this was clear to Will; can it. As for why he would refer to him by his proper name? Probably spite. Sean spoke up about it too, of course using the chance to make a jab at the PRT in the process. Really? Now? "As for your opinion there, Overclock, it's understandable. And while it's true we can make no guarantee of safety, it's in our utmost interests to keep you all safe. Hell, He continued on, a brief laugh escaping him. "you kids are the reason we've got our own Guardians now, here to keep an eye out for you all. And if a guy like Risen can't keep you safe, then I'll eat my tie."

A bit of deflection never hurt; it was easy to make their safety sound more ensured with the Redline Guardians being behind them, especially a guy like Risen. He was pretty much a local legend here, and even foreigners out-of-country knew a bit about the guy. Not just anyone can get cut in half and walk it off. It...Went a bit unspoken, but if a guy like Risen really couldn't keep you safe, then things were pretty bad. Luckily, Fukuda couldn't think of a single thug or villain in Redline who could really, truly, get the edge on this place's resident zombie hero.

The conversation kept flowing for a bit, and he caught the fact that Beverly and Morgan slid off to the side, with her making a small showcase of that ever-so-coveted healing trick and explaining to Workshop the other details of her ability. Annoying, for certain, especially with how not-so-subtly he'd tried to tell her that it wouldn't do anyone any good if she kept talking about it, but not unbearable.

Then Overclock got involved. Of course.

Fukuda, being the more aware of the two, had no need to press Morgan over details of her ability as some method of sussing some deep-seated negative traits. He had initially taken Sean to be a pretty smart kid, having managed himself for a few years on the streets, even if he never really tangled with some proper villains. Guess that called shot was a ways off, because casually asking stuff like that was quite...Pointed. And not in the positive sense. In the case of Beverly, at least she'd been rather broad about it, and in her case the thing she was after was blatantly obvious; her absurd sense of curiosity. His statements...Didn't give off the same sense, not in the slightest.

Clearing his throat a bit in an attempt to regain some of the attention, Fukuda spoke up. "Perhaps you should trust her to disclose details like that at her own discretion. Ultimately, I'll trust her to make her own decisions and understand her own limits, and I expect everyone to do the same for your fellow members." There, clear the air a bit; shift the focus from the singular girl and onto the group as a whole. Prying where others didn't want you to pry, in a room with a bunch of volatile, powered teenagers, was a recipe for disaster. One that he doubted Sean concerned himself with much, but that wasn't an excuse for it.

Ironically enough, the statement tied in well with what Fukuda could judge was the intent behind Overclock's long-awaited introduction; trying to seem less like the hero Overclock, and more like, well, Sean. A fellow kid. Perhaps that'd numb Andy's fan-factor a touch. They both could hope...

Abruptly, as he finished his long-winded intro to his fellow Wards, the Director's cell went off. Raising a single finger to invoke at least some level of silence, he stalked away from the table for a moment, sliding the phone out from his suit's folds and seeing who exactly was calling at a time like this.

...Crap.

No hesitation, he answered, raising the phone to his ear while his eyes remained set on the teenagers, silently enforcing their own silence, at least for now. It made each sentence and word that came from the Director seem all the louder.

"This is Director Fukuda. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Brief chatter on the other end, going unheard by The Wards. "...You're kidding me. Right now?" For once, Atsushi seemed to make little effort to hide his irritation, a small scowl curling onto his face. "...Can I at least get a heads-up? How long do we have?" More words exchanged. Fukuda's next words were barely a whisper, certainly meant to go unheard by the kids, though perhaps those more perceptive might catch it."An hour?...Give or take an hour?!" The dialogue from the other end seemed to grow in volume slightly, and in the strictness of the tone. With a sigh of defeat, Fukuda gave one more response before hanging up.

"...I'll see to it that our Guardians are alerted, and that The Wards...Get prepared." After the call ended, he didn't even spare the kids a glance as he immediately called up someone else.

"Elton?" Whoever was on the other end sounded like they didn't take kindly to that. Scrunching his brow, he replied. "Okay, Fashionista. Get your ass down here, with the cards. We've got a bit of an emergency." What sounded like more complaining from the other end, to which the Director replied with a clear edge in his voice, seemingly just as irritated as Fashionista on the other end was. "Yeah, I know this is bad! You don't need to tell me! Listen, I'll..." Composing himself again, he straightened his voice up once more. "I'll make it clear to the higher-ups that this isn't tolerable. At the very least, maybe we can get some recompense for this shit..." Shouting could distinctly be heard from his cell, though with how quickly Fukuda had pulled it from his ear and cupped it in both hands, the exact words were too muffled to be made out. Eventually, when he was certain that was over, he brought it back up.

"Of course I meant for them! I'm not that shallow, Rachel. Just...Get down here." With that, the call had ended, no doubt with the room's eyes now on the Director. Christ alive, this was a miserable start...Begrudgingly, he approached his seat once more. What was already a stoic, unreadable expression now had a certain edge to it; a war face.

"Looks like things will be getting interesting today, Wards."

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

---

---

"This is the last chance I’ll give you to surrender before your life is forfeit."

---

---

_Name:

Sierra M. Danvers

_Alias:

Siren

_Nicknames:

None

_Age:

38

_Gender:

Female - She|Her

_Personality:

Stoic and hard to read, people tend to think Siren is a too intimidating to talk to, and while she is, she's only intimidating the way that someone is when they're stone-cold serious about doing their job properly without room for failure. Siren commands respect wherever she goes with an air of well-backed confidence, she knows exactly what she is capable of, and makes a point of knowing exactly what the people around her are capable of as well.

Siren is a dependable woman, she’s not afraid to offer assistance to heroes who need it, and has been known to steer the occasional innocent parahuman away from going down the path of villainy. Anyone who has had the opportunity to work with her knows that she has her act together, and has had it together for years, which is a lot more than most parahumans can say. She has taken on a great deal of responsibility during her hero career, and isn’t afraid go down swinging for her convictions.

Beneath her tough exterior lies a deep sense of compassion for the world around her. Years of dedicating herself to fighting back villains and even the Heralds mean she has weathered more than her fair share of storms. One can argue that Siren is a bit of an outlier, having witnessed as much as she has over the years without losing the determination in her eye to keep going. Some may find it inspiring, others may think she’s simply hiding more hurt and baggage than they realize.

_Appearance:

Out of costume, it's all comfort. Sweatpants, baggy sweatshirts, and anything that doesn't make her feel too humid. Due to the side effects of her powers, Sierra's hair is always wet. She hasn't been able to successfully dry it in the last two decades. How wet depends on how much she uses her powers. After a head-on fight with villains, it looks like she dunked her head underwater. When she wakes up in the morning, it only feels somewhat damp. Don't ask how she sleeps comfortably. Don't ask about the eye, either. Siren wears a getup that makes someone think she's a pirate instead of, well, a siren. Turquoise colored, hydrophobic longcoat, a pair of knee-high boots, padded elbow gloves, and bulletproof vest designed to look like a regular undershirt for subtlety.

_Biography:

She fell from the top and couldn’t swim.

Everything was blue for as far as she could see, her limbs felt like stone. She was cold. There was no solid ground to stand on anymore, she was far from the shore by now, no doubt. The rumble in her ears was all she could hear, the faint reflection of sunlight from the far off surface was growing further and further.

But she thrashed and clawed through the water. She tried with every fleeting breath to pull herself closer to the light. Her lungs were screaming. She could feel her strength dwindling, and her arms didn’t get any lighter for it.

She sank down.

And down.

Down.

”I don’t want to die.”

Everything went black, and the sky spilled open. A storm emerged from a cloudless sky over the land, screaming winds and rain heavy enough to drown the highest mountains. Thunder shook the ground for miles, trees were torn from their roots as if they were grass, and she walked home across the ocean.

She was the ocean.

When the storm passed, she knew she was different.

Sierra was a Breaker. A Parahuman.

”My name is Siren.”

---

24 years have passed since Sierra’s trigger event, and she has spend that time using her powers as an independent hero by the name of Siren, protecting her home from all manners of villains, joining the fight against Heralds, and eventually using her experience to set examples for other up and coming heroes. Siren never hid her identity, to the surprise of many, as she knows she was never perfect, and knew she had to hold herself accountable should she ever make a mistake that out others in harm’s way. As a very successful and competent vigilante, Siren had received countless offers from hero teams, some sponsored by the PRT, others independent. She never took the offers, they were never her scene.

Before coming to Redline, she was a very well-known quantity where she came from. She brought down many villains over the years, and made close friends among the more “professional” heroes. Siren always took pride in her ability to spur changes among capes and guide others down a good path. It was that willingness to set examples that made the PRT approach her in a more official capacity for the Wards Initiative. It was not the first time they spoke, but rather than say they wanted, they conveyed that they needed someone like her for the Guardians in Redline. They needed her affinity for guidance among younger capes, and she obliged.

There was never a reason for Siren to join the PRT officially. She always had plenty of money from working in the Marina where she was thrown from just before her trigger event. She had enough common sense not to do anything stupid with her powers, and she always enjoyed the freedom of independent work. But Siren was accustomed to supporting less experienced capes from her time spent in costume, and she believed in what the PRT did. When they told her about a movement to train parahuman children who may be coming from bad circumstances and equip them with the tools to be the next generation of heroes, she gladly took a place among the Redline Guardians.

_{Powers: Hydrokinesis/Water Physiology [Breaker 7(Shaker 6)]}

Siren has a form she shifts into where her body is altered to be made of water. Her clothes blur and mingle with the surface of her skin and seem to cascade away towards any edge. Her hair goes from being constantly wet to a raging waterfall in the shape of hair, that no one can touch without their hand passing through or being pushed back out. In this form, Sierra absorbs any free water in a solid or gaseous state that her body touches, which is used to slowly heal wounds. She can also walk on water in this state, but the most important advantage to Siren’s Breaker state is that it allows her to access her Shaker power: Hydrokinesis. In this form, she can freely manipulate free water in any state, such as liquid or ice cubes, on a molecular level. This allows Siren to artificially change the state of water and move it like an extension of her body, which it technically is. Her body takes on the physical properties of water, which can allow some forms of physical damage to pass right through her.

Siren is also capable of altering the weather with enough humidity in the air, effectively forcing rain to pour down. This doesn't have much of a practical use unless the rain is particular heavy, and takes time, but it makes Siren ability to flood a street a lot easier if it happens. Siren can't recreate the wind or lighting associated with a thunderstorm, but sometimes, when she is pushed into circumstances like the ones during her trigger event, a full-blown thunderstorm just might occur outside of her control.

_Other:

She lost her eye and half of the skin on her face to a striker with an explosion power that turned organic matter into bombs.

_{Theme Song}

The Real McKenzies - The Tempest

open.spotify.com/track/6gXLYsEkqlhe41…

@Blizz

Meant to do this earlier, but Siren's accepted! Although I might get in DMs or the sort on a few particulars involving her Power, but it shouldn't be big. Get her in Characters! :D

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Crosspoint

"Hey man, no worries. After all, I'm sure you'll make it up to me."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Caiden Mckay.
♦ Age: 17.
♦ Loyalty: Wards.
♦ Appearance: Standing at 6 feet exactly, Caiden is roughly 200 or so lbs, possessing a slim build with a small amount of natural muscle definition. He’s got an easy confidence about him that simply must have come from years of not having almost any reason to think less of himself. Beyond that, his blue eyes and white hair–obviously dyed–make him a rather striking figure, or at least he thinks so.

[+]

Casual

Costume

♦ History:

[+]

Born in New Haven, Connecticut, Caiden’s upbringing was filled with the subtle struggles of the not-so-well off. Fortunately though, both his parents were around during Caiden’s upbringing. Still, that didn’t mean that things weren’t rough, and though it was perhaps the least of their problems, Caiden was never happy with how much his dad was gone. Nonetheless, life was fairly routine until he reached the age of 13. Around that time Caiden’s father left, things between his parents having grown increasingly strained over the past couple of years. From there it was a slow road downhill as his mom picked up two jobs to make ends meet and he was forced to grow up fast to help take care of his younger sister, Kaelyn. Between her and school, Caiden had little time to hang out with friends or express himself. He took to using fashion–paying for clothes by doing odd jobs whenever he had free time. By the time he was about to enter high school, he’d amassed a considerable collection of clothes. Though things weren’t perfect and there was a quiet ember of anger in him, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better as Kaelyn was now old enough to largely take care of herself. However, as he entered high school, things would certainly take a turn that no one could have predicted.

Around his Sophmore year of high school, Caiden was in a bad place. Though he was popular at school he found himself more attracted to a particularly bad crowd of kids. Hanging out with some of them he became acquainted with some older students, be they seniors in high school or sophomores in college. As summer rolled around and he’d found himself spending a worrying amount of time with these people, his mother started to notice the changes in his behavior. Sneaking out, coming back smelling like cigarettes and once, weed–not to mention the terrible terrible argument. Confronting him, Caiden’s mom was on her last nerve. The next week it seemed Caiden had turned over a new leaf, however, having gotten a job to occupy his time over the summer. Little did she know that he’d gotten his job through the new ‘friends’ he’d made. Initially, it seemed like a decent way to pass the time, Caiden found, as it let him stay away from his difficult home situation and the constant reminders of his father’s absence. Then the hours got longer and the weight of dealing with shitty customers started to push him down. However, as his situation started to show, his coworkers noticed his weakness and capitalized on it. The true gauntlet began. Every day was a new exercise in torment. He’d be forced to work in the kitchen with the friers and often he’d get bumped or pushed far too close for comfort, often getting little burns here and there. Still, he grinned and bore it even as the pressure mounted. Then his coworkers, the bastards, started calling in or forcing him to take their shifts. He’d get called during time with those few friends who would still tolerate him, the ones who weren’t caught up in the shitty crowd he’d foolishly involved himself with.

Family outings interrupted, plans canceled, it was quickly becoming too much. Yet, while Caiden certainly wanted out, he wanted to get back at them so much more. After all, while the job was hard, the money was nice and it was a welcome distraction. Days passed him by and eventually on one of his particularly long shifts, on his 8th day in a row, one of the bastards took it too far and almost had him end up burning his whole arm. Absolutely furious, Caiden snapped, pushing the big idiot onto the ground with a bit more strength than he’d intended. With the hoodlum on the ground, looking like a stunned deer in the headlights. Cussing out the lot of them and throwing around insults that he’d never thought he was brave enough to say aloud, Caiden eventually–totally fed up with the situation–left. He felt their stares on his back even after he’d left. In the day that followed, one of oh so few days off he had that week–not that he intended to return–he got back-to-back calls from his manager. He didn’t answer. It was only as he checked his email and opened a message from that same boss that he realized how fucked he was.

<Snipped quote>

In that moment he realized that he’d have to face them again. There was just no avoiding it, he couldn’t risk his mom finding out about the bullshit they’d made him do. Just as angry that he’d been so stupid as he was that they wouldn’t just let him off the hook, Caiden realized that things had well and truly spiraled far out of control. So, not knowing what to do, but understanding that the consequences of going back would be just as bad, he triggered.

Doing what was–fortunately–only a small amount of damage to his room, Caiden adjusted to his new powers surprisingly quickly. After all, he’d gotten used to changes in his situation, and honestly…having powers meant that he suddenly had a solution to his problem. What followed were a series of poorly conceived plans and decisions that would inevitably lead to a rather public case, followed by the PRT contacting his mother. After being given an ultimatum to figure his shit out and become a member of this new “Wards Program” or be grounded effectively forever Caiden relented. The months that followed were hard, but with funding and his mom’s savings they managed to move to Redline, Maine where the new program would be starting. From there, things started getting better as, despite the things he’d done, Caiden had learned some valuable lessons from his experiences and so had grown–if not in all the right ways.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ General: Caiden has a certain magnetism to him, the kind that rather easily lands him in the more ‘popular’ crowds among his peers. He’s good with people and seems to thrive in social situations, at least so long as he isn’t overtly challenged. After all, beneath his generally relaxed attitude and friendly demeanor there is a simmering repressed anger, and a desire to be needed, to belong. This can express itself in subtle barbs that he might pepper into an otherwise innocuous conversation, or perhaps as a more insidious manipulation of public opinion over an extended period. Hell, if you’re lucky, you might even notice a hint of arrogance about him, something he tries to keep under wraps…at least out of costume. Beyond that, Caiden is possessed of a fierce competitive spirit that belies his typically ‘chill’ mannerisms. Though he is intelligent and even internally critical of the world around him, Caiden is the sort that tends not to use his observations unless pushed to–though this is not to say that he can’t be unduly harsh at times. All-in-all, despite his faults, Caiden is a relatively pleasant person to be around…at least if social harmony is maintained.

♦ Derangement: Simply put, Caiden’s shard played off of his repressed anger to encourage a sort of enjoyment for violence in the young man, as well as dialing up his need to feel in control of situations and to a lesser degree, people.

_{[ ♦ ]
Parahumanism}

---

♦ Skills:

Street Smarts - Having hung out with a rather…questionable crowd when he lived in New Haven, Caiden learned some unexpected pieces of knowledge about surviving on the streets. While the rules are often different in different cities, some things are universal. On top of this, he’s got a bit of street fighting experience when he was forced to rough house with some of the older ruffians. Simply put, he knows how to hold up an effective guard, and he can throw a mean punch. Though he’s managed to stay out of similar crowds since they moved–if only because he’s low-key terrified of ending up in a similar situation as his last encounter–Caiden has gotten to know the city well in the months he’s lived in Redline. As such, he’s got a good understanding of its layout, where the dead ends are, and how best to lose someone therein. Perhaps this will help him uncover the criminal elements in the city in his newfound role as a Ward.

Smooth Talker - Used to having to explain his way out of trouble due to his background, and furthermore possessed of a not insignificant charisma, Caiden is exceptionally good at talking his way out of or into a wide variety of situations. Similarly, he can lie without batting an eye and is rather good at not being caught in the lies he does tell.

Fashion Sense - As this is the primary way through which Caiden has expressed himself throughout his adolescence, Caiden could be considered rather fashionable. Furthermore, having been in a wide array of social situations, he’s got an eye for what sort of impression people want to leave based on what they’re wearing. While this doesn’t make him any sort of master detective, it does mean that people’s clothing tends to tell him a lot more about them than it might someone without his background. Beyond this it gives him another avenue to cultivate an image or particular impression when interacting with different people.

Endurance & Athleticism - Simply put, Caiden has a lot of energy and he’s in pretty decent shape. As such he can last for longer than average during physical activities and he finds most social engagements energizing, rather than tiring. Just don’t expect to outlast him if it’s a matter of human perseverance.

♦ Classification: Blaster|Shaker.
♦ Mechanics: Crosspoint’s power allows him to conjure blade-like projectiles from prismatic energy within a five (5) foot radius of his person. These blades take a fourth of a second to manifest and upon materializing fully, the prismatic energy becomes bound to them. These blades are treated mostly as if they are mundane objects, meaning that they do not demanifest after striking something else. Notably, the young man can hold up to ten (10) of these blades within his manifestation radius with each blade being roughly equivalent to wood in durability. Additionally, Crosspoint is capable of telekinetically maneuvering his blades at roughly twenty (20) mph while they remain within his manifestation radius. While the blades remain under his control in this field, Crosspoint may alter their post-launch attributes, allowing him to adjust their durability, velocity, and launch type with each of these traits drawing from the same ‘pool’ of power. Furthermore, it should be noted that Crosspoint is capable of creating ‘composite projectiles’ by melding two (2) to four (4) of his blades into one, giving the resulting blade a greater allocation of potential that may be divvied between its three properties. These composite blades will always be visually distinct, as the prismatic energy surrounding them becomes more pronounced due to a consistent ‘pulsing’ pattern that is observed to occur. Lastly, testing has revealed that despite composite blades technically reducing the total count of active projectiles, that until used, they will still take up the same amount of his total capacity as if they remained separate (i.e. if Crosspoint has ten (10) blades active, and merges three (3), he will not be able to manifest an additional two (2) blades until he has launched some of those that are already active).

PRT Testing Document Version 8 ‘Property Allotment’

Crosspoint’s explanation for how the allotment of power to a given trait functions was, essentially, to compare his pool of power to a set number of ‘stat points’ with each property of his blades being an individual stat. The following information was compiled after extensive testing on Crosspoint’s power after the allotment of varying ‘stat spreads’ to different blades.

Durability

This property, as expected, dictates how much punishment a given blade can handle before shattering, be it pressure, tearing, or cutting force.

1st Tier (Brittle) - At this tier, the blades are much like glass in durability and will break relatively easily even from forces a normal human could output.

2nd Tier (Hardwood) - About as durable as particularly dense wood, these blades can be destroyed with significant effort, making them remain somewhat formidable if only due to their density.

3rd Tier (Stone) - Roughly equivalent to concrete or granite in durability, these blades can be cracked or shattered by similar forces as these materials.

4th Tier (Steel) - Roughly as durable as processed steel.

5th Tier (Titanium) - Roughly as durable as processed titanium.

Velocity

This property, simply put, dictates the speed at which Crosspoint’s projectiles will travel prior to being ‘launched’.

1st Tier (Slow) - Moving at an almost glacial pace, blades at this tier will barely even appear to be a threat as they fly forth at a measly 10 or so mph, barely faster than the fastest human olympian.

2nd Tier (Steady) - Crossing distance considerably faster than the first tier, blades at this speed tier will move at 40 mph.

3rd Tier (Pitch) - Equivalent to the fastest human throw, these blades can move at roughly 100 mph.

4th Tier (Split) - Finally far outstripping any human limit, these blades move at a startling 300 mph.

5th Tier (Blind) - Stunningly fast, blades given this tier of velocity can be propelled at a startling 1000 mph, somewhat slower than the speed of your average bullet (1700), though still 300 mph faster than the speed of sound. Notably, blades charged with this tier will glow more brightly than others and will flash once before firing.

Launch Type

The only non-standard property of Crosspoint’s blades, Launch Type dictates how released projectiles will behave.

1st Tier (Directional) - The most basic launch type, the first tier allows the blades to be fired in a single straight line decided prior to launch.

2nd Tier (Angular) - Building on the tier before it, the Angular launch type allows Crosspoint to have his projectiles turn once at a 90-degree angle. The time that they turn, and what direction they turn in are set prior to launch.

3rd Tier (Trajectory) - Breaking the mold, this launch type allows the blades to have complex preprogrammed trajectories, allowing them to curve multiple times. As before, the trajectory is decided prior to launch and cannot be changed afterward.

4th Tier (Tracking) - Further exceeding limits, this launch type allows Crosspoint to choose a target prior to launch and then have his blade(s) track its movement until they strike something.

5th Tier (Liminal) - Obliterating the previously established blueprint, but keeping to the trend, the liminal launch type gives Crosspoint a drastically increased amount of control of his projectiles. While still unable to manually control their movement after launch, the Liminal tier allows him to combine up to two launch types for a single projectile. In this way a blade could be fired with a Directional Launch Type, only to swap to Tracking at a point of Crosspoint’s choosing. Notably, Crosspoint can only swap the movement type once, though he does not have to choose when this switch happens prior to launch.

As a predictive measure used to approximate the properties of any given individual projectile, we have worked with Crosspoint to create a basic ‘stat pool’ which serves as a rough equivalent to the pool of power that he draws from. As such, it must be assumed that any individual–read: Not composite–projectile will have a maximum of eight (8) ‘points’ to divvy between its three aspects. Furthermore, when creating composite projectiles, some power is lost in the melding process, causing each joined projectile to allow an additional two (2) such ‘points’ to the pool.

Expanding upon the above, Crosspoint’s blade-like projectiles have two secondary abilities, both of which are directly tied to the prismatic energy that surrounds them. The first, and simpler of these, is that Crosspoint can detonate this prismatic energy at will, causing it to erupt outwards in a blast of kinetic force easily capable of sending loose material flying some distance, or–conversely–knocking a person or large object two (2) to four (4) feet in a given direction. Notably, these blasts are typically diffuse enough that they cannot cause significant damage to all but the weakest objects or substances. However, should someone be hit point-blank by such an eruption of force, it could cause low-end blunt force trauma in line with what is needed to cause minor bruises.

Significantly more noteworthy than the prior application of Crosspoint’s prismatic energy is the secondary manifestation of such. Rather than releasing the energy outright, Crosspoint’s power allows him to position multiple blades in the environment in the interest of creating arrays, the smallest of which require at least three (3) blades. After being positioned properly, Crosspoint may trigger this secondary manifestation, causing the prismatic energy to blanket the inner bounds denoted by the array. Upon activation, anything, or anyone caught within the bounds of an array is subjected to incredible pressure. This is the result of the prismatic energy exerting kinetic force therein. This effect becomes more pronounced–and dangerous–as additional blades are added to a given array, with a basic three (3) blade array drastically impeding the movement of a normal human or conversely causing surface-level damage to inanimate material (i.e causing cracks in stone or slowly warping metal). Though extensive testing on this effect was conducted, no upper limit of potency could be found and due to the significant risk involved, testing was aborted after [redacted] blades were utilized. However, though no limit to potency could be established, it became clear that the strength of a given array is inversely proportional to the length of time it will remain active. It has been estimated that while a basic three (3) blade arrangement may last almost indefinitely, larger arrangements are increasingly unstable. As such, though the results of the tests were somewhat inconsistent, it has been theorized that for each order of magnitude, an array’s duration is reduced by roughly a half.

♦ Equipment/Belongings:

Costume: Surprising Fashionista and her department with his choices, Caiden made sure that his costume was sufficiently impressive. The costume is much easier to maneuver in, often making it seem like he’s not wearing it, with the way the cloth somehow actively doesn’t get in his way. Further, it’s more akin to leather in durability than regular cloth, despite appearances, and it is startlingly light considering.

Smartphone: For personal use.

Non-canon Snip/Favorite power

The villain lunged at him, building up speed with every inch of the distance she traveled, her power clearly ramping up as black energy arced across her form. Reacting quickly, Crosspoint gestured, manifesting six silver blades at his right which he swiftly calibrated. Each would be as durable as steel, with half tracking his adversary, while the other half would follow set trajectories. He keyed the latter set to move more swiftly than the former and then without any hesitation released them. Snapping, a small grin forming on his lips, Crosspoint manifested four more blades even as the villain was forced to take a zigzagging path to evade the blade he’d sent her way.

Satisfied that he’d bought enough time, Caiden watched as three of his blades rose a few feet into the air, angled off suddenly, and then thrust themselves downwards and into the ground. As he kept track of his adversary’s movements, he noted that his other blades–finally–had all missed, instead striking other targets much as he’d expected she would manage. Noting as she turned on a dime and rushed at him, he gestured again, releasing two of the four projectiles he’d conjured. These weren’t terribly durable, nor were they as fast as he could manage. However, in exchange, he could toggle them between tracking and manual. Thus as the villainess dodged both of them, ducking under their movement, Caiden took direct control. Turning on a dime, the blades spun into motion and then stabbed downwards in an instant. The attack was unbelievably precise, piercing her clothes, without touching her flesh, before digging directly into the ground. At the same time, he hopped backward and sent one of his last two projectiles downwards into the ground.

“Checkmate,” he said with a smug air, and then the secondary effect of his power activated. The woman’s inhuman eyes widened as she surely felt an immense pressure suddenly come into being, pushing inwards on her body from all directions. Unwittingly, she’d walked right into his trap. Fortunately for her, the pressure was nowhere near-fatal, only rendering her immobile as she pressed her forearms and legs against the ground in an attempt not to be flattened to the ground. All around her, prismatic energy swirled and pulsed inwards, seeming to caress her form even as it battered her into submission.

“Man, that cannot be pleasant, but while I’ve got a captive audience, did you even have a plan?” Pausing, his grin unrelenting, his eyes glittering faintly with mischief as he stared through the gaps in his mask. “Like, attacking one of the Wards I can see. You get some street cred, some rep, if you will, but attacking their base of operations? That’s just idiotic. What if the local Guardians show up? What if the PRT soldiers respond first and you aren’t equipped for that? How do you deal with consistent reinforcements fighting on their home turf? Like, honestly woman, rub some brain cells together for once in your villainous life.” Shaking his head as she merely growled and grunted from the intense strain required to keep resisting the pressure of his power.

“Tsk.”

Turning away, Caiden waved as he crossed the street and poked his head into the PRT’s office. “Hey, can we get some restraints out here,” he called out in the interest of prompting the so-called adults into action. That said he took up a post to the right of the door leaning against a wall while he kept watch–a bored expression on his features. However, after a few brief moments, Caiden found himself growing bored and so pushed off of the wall and walked over to the edge of his bounded field. Crouching down he got close to eye level with the villainness he’d captured.

“You know, I’m curious, your own power can’t be your favorite. It’s just too…” he made a gesture with his hand, as if to imply that it wasn’t even worth explaining. The woman merely gritted her teeth and spat. He snapped his fingers in response, “Exactly! Wishy-washy. I mean, you villains have got to look up to someone right? Me, personally, I figured that a hero should only aspire towards the best of the best. That said, Guardian’s sort of my jam. I mean, what’s not to love about hyper-potent forcefields, you know?”

@yoshua171

The literal edgy boi, Caiden, otherwise to be known as Crosspoint, is accepted!

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:04 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Atsushi couldn't suppress his groan that immediately followed the outburst of Workshop's latest gizmo. This was the first official day and there'd already been an incident. Taking a breath to collect himself, he was surprised to find his eyes drawn to a blueish rift in space, from which walked a quite last-minute arrival. Gress. Well, that's a pleasant surprise, though he found a slight frown crossing his face from the abrupt use of her Power. Was it that much of a hassle to use a damn elevator? And speaking of...

How had she used her Power to get here? Last Fukuda remembered, the files guessed that her ability was restricted either by line of sight, or at least a clear vision of the location in mind. She had neither for this. Huh...Turning his attention for a brief moment, the Director slid out his datapad and filed in some new information. Though, returning to what was at hand, he couldn't help but cringe as she mentioned the confetti, and his glance skimmed to the fresh pile of colored paper that had practically entombed Workshop. Still, he gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement, and a brief comment.

"Of course, happy to have you. Although...I ask you refrain from excess use of your Power."

With that handled, he could focus on other matters, such as the fact Morgan was helping the poor girl who had become buried alive in her own folly. Glad someone did it, because he had a feeling that if it came down to him, it'd just make Workshop feel worse than he was certain she likely did. Though her introduction certainly was lacking...Especially when it came to her abrupt mention of a mere facet of her Power. That might give the wrong ideas. Clearing his throat after she spoke up, the Director addressed all the youths gathered once more.

"While yes, Memento possesses the capability to heal, it's far from her main trait. I'll ask you all refrain from anything too foolhardy just because she said she could patch you up." Fukuda gave a strained smile. Seriously, of all the things for her to mention, it had to be the part that would complicate things most? Sheesh.

While Fukuda hadn't paid much mind to what Andrew and Will were speaking about, he couldn't help a slight smirk appearing on his own face as he picked up the whisper of a curse from the Master boy. An eye for an eye, kid...And besides, this would have to happen eventually, and Gray Man certainly hadn't done anything to earn the right to do it himself.

Then the kid turned the charm on as he spoke to the rest, obviously testing the waters and gauging reactions. Well, more accurately, it was obvious to the Director; people like Wilbur were a dime a dozen when it came to how they acted, and he was all too familiar. However, Fukuda's eyes lay upon the boy in a low glare as he felt it. It was a brief static of the mind, easily shrugged off thanks to the light distortion of noise offered by these earbuds, but still, Levin had tried it.

His glare turned into a sigh as he realized the latest arrival actually was being affected. Little shit...

Not respecting Wilbur with a verbal response, he slid out another case to Aaliyah to equip herself with. Said and done with. The kid was already trying his patience, and it hadn't even been ten minutes. Christ...The Director pinched the brow of his nose in mild annoyance, taking a moment to recollect himself again.

Then, sweet mother of God why, Andrew asked him and Will if he was...Socializing right? Another sigh escaped Fukuda. "Andrew...The fact you need to ask should probably be a bad sign." What the hell was this? Between him and Jane, Fukuda was convinced the social skills of this group plummeted. He'd sooner let Beverly on Tonight With K&C than even imagine these two trying to hold anything akin to a normal conversation. "...And on another note, kid, it's not a good look to use your Power like that." Wasn't exactly subtle either, with all the hair-changing and shit. Probably didn't even understand how that kind of thing was an invasion of privacy in its own right, on par with Gray Man...Except he couldn't just bug Tech Wizard about something like this. Also, damn, he was pretty sure this guy had the attention span of a goldfish with how quickly he jumped from one person to another with comments, although he only gave the two Tinkers the barest minimum of interaction. Hell was that about?

...Then he started asking about what they were doing. Great. Well, had to get this out of the way. "...To answer your questions, yes, no, and no. While they'd be late at this point, there are a few others that might be making an appearance. When it comes to an assignment, I mean..."

Fukuda rubbed his temple a bit, trying to stay level-headed. This was the first day, and he was already asking about assignments? Fucking hell..."...Currently, no. Today will mostly be briefing, getting to know each other, and become familiar with your Headquarters down here. At most, if we're good on time, there'll be some nighttime patrols to get you all started. As for a leader..."

The Director shared a glance with Sean. Yeah....No. For a plethora of reasons, there was probably no way the kid would (or rather, should) be running the team. But how to break it..."...While it's true Overclock here has, bar none, the most experience in handling these scenarios amongst you all, and is one of the eldest members here, I'd prefer everyone get a say on that matter, and perhaps test the waters on the field before you go pointing fingers. We may still have a surprise leader in our midst yet." God, he hoped so. Truth be told, most of them didn't feel like leader material one way or another. Maybe Aaliyah? She was one of the older kids here, seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, and doesn't come packed with all the issues of Overclock...But beyond her, the others were probably too young for the responsibility, or shouldn't (or in a certain case, couldn't) be trusted to handle the kind of pressure that position has. Tricky...

At least his attention was taken away as Jane made her...'Introduction'. Honestly, Fukuda had to resist the urge to slam his head into the desk then and there. Christ alive girl, telling them that you'll hook them up with some prosthetics? Holding the groan that built in his throat was the most monumental task the Director had faced yet.

---

---

Date/Time: November 11th, 2022. 6:04 PM.

Location(s): Redline PRT Headquarters

---

---

Beverly could vaguely make out the arrival of a new person, though strangely found the ring of the elevator absent. However, her main concern was hearing the confetti comment, digging her head deeper into the pile with a moan of shame that went unheard. Beyond that, the bits and pieces she heard from the new arrival (Aal...Something? Ally?) sounded nice enough. Maybe if this weren't such a miserable situation, she'd take some solace in that.

Truth be told, when she could feel a hand reach out to help her out, she almost didn't want to take it. Maybe she'd be better off sitting in the pile, spitting out paper wads...But eventually, her drive to make something of this mess outmatched her despair at making such a colossal flop in front of all these people. With a grunt of effort, she popped out like a zombie crawling from its grave, latching onto the chair for support as she rose up with the aid of Morgan, sputtering out pieces of confetti as she did.

She almost missed the girl asking if she was okay; Bev had been too caught up in the looks of others. She was never too great at reading others, so all the glances she saw as she had been yanked from her self-made tomb were ones of disinterest at best, or cruel amusement at worst. Still, shaking paper from her hair as best she could, she mustered up a big smile for Morie. She'd earned that much. "Awful sweet of ya to help me out, thanks. And I'm f-" With a bit of a cough, a few stray pieces of white and blue drifted from Beverly's mouth. Her spirit sank just a bit lower, another fragment of mirth sucked from her voice. "...I'm fine."

Bev actually jerked forward a bit when the girl pulled out of her grasp. She'd been so caught up with everything she'd plum forgot! Catching herself, she gave a laugh, one a bit more awkward than she was used to. "Oh, M'bad! Still collectin' myself 'n all." She hadn't expected Morie to immediately transition over to picking the colorful confetti off of her, and couldn't hide the slight surprise in her face, which soon shifted to a warm smile. Well, she could at least say with certainty she was one of the good ones! Though, when she awkwardly shifted to making her introduction, Beverly couldn't help but feel that some of Morgan's nervous energy was her fault. She didn't stay on that train of thought for long, however, when she suddenly spoke a few mere words.

"I can heal you."

Beverly blinked a few times, having a double take. "...A-Are ya serious? I mean, Iunno much 'bout Parahumans, but ain't that sorta a big deal?" She looked to Fukuda for confirmation as he spoke up in retaliation to Memento's claim. "Oh, it's like, a part of it...Makes more sense. Still, that's super neat! Could I, uh, ask 'bout the full deal? I'm awful curious now, hehe.." When Memento drifted back, almost unconsciously on her part, Bev found herself standing up and sticking next to her instead of the rest of the table. She...Didn't want to talk with them for a minute. Still, even then, she couldn't stop herself from digging in the confetti pile beforehand, yanking back out....A perfectly intact sphere.

'Not an explosive! Knew it!' Beaming with a small bit of pride in herself yet again at the small discovery, she pocketed....Whatever the hell that thing actually was, and stuck herself next to Morgan. If she just kept her mouth busy, then hopefully she'd be able to ignore that urge to go messing with the darn thing again for a few seconds...

Though she found her attention yanked from her Confetti Savior for a moment when Jane, the other Tinker in the room, had finally spoken up. And....Well, her passion was restored when they brought up their talents, and a promise for an awesome prosthetic should they end up horribly maimed! While the others were probably very understandably offset by it, Beverly beamed with a thumbs-up towards the scruffy young lady. "I'll hold ya to it, Janey! That'd be awesome!" As if already imagining it, she was flexing her right arm around a bit, trying to envision a world where she, too, had a dope metal arm.