The Man Emperor

Marvel: Judgment Day

Zahariel Jackson/Kaleidoscope

Name: Zahariel Jackson
Alias: Kaleidoscope
Age: 31
Place of Birth: Detroit, Michigan, United States

Powers:

"Like a shooting star, I can cross the distance... what, did you think I was going to sing the entire song?"

Conduit Effect: Zahariel is directly channeling energy from a parallel dimension to use his mutant powers. This allows him to fire blasts of raw energy that can melt through metal, scorch flesh, and set wood on fire.

Portal Creation: Zahariel is able to create portals that can cross up to 500 miles at a time, though energy consumption scales with distance. As such, it is preferable for him to limit his portals to about 100 miles, as he runs the risk of overexertion when going beyond that.

Rift Storm: By opening a portal to the dimension from whence he draws power, Zahariel can unleash a powerful storm of extradimensional energy, which causes gravitational anomalies, hurricane-like conditions, and slows down the flow of time within. It also changes the affected area to resemble that dimension, which is a kaleidoscopic landscape laden with multi-colored crystals and clouds of purple mist. If a Rift Storm isn’t unleashed on that same area again for more than a day, it slowly changes back to normal.

History:

"Coexistence was once a dream I had. Imagine a world where the mutated and the normal can live as one! Well, it's now a pipe dream, thanks to you people, of course."

It was once said by one wise soul that with great power comes great responsibility. Zahariel could only guess who coined that phrase, but being the eldest child in a family laden with the mutant X-gene surely brought a lot of responsibility, and, admittedly, pain, for him. Mutation had always run rife within his bloodline; his mother had purple scleras and pointed ears, while his father had powers of light and blood that glowed whenever it was exposed to the atmosphere. Too bad he can’t remember what their names were, as they had to give him and his two siblings early on to a foster home. Mutants with such visible mutations were often denied employment, and so, they could not provide for Zahariel and his siblings.

Fortunately for him, he was given over to good people. Zahariel and his siblings would be amongst the many young students within Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters, which allowed him to know other people, mutants, like himself. He learned that his story repeats in so many other young mutants, as they were feared and despised by mainline society for their gifts. Never mind that the X-Men had, along with other teams of heroes, saved the world on numerous occasions. Well, if the Brotherhood weren’t so adamant about making trouble, then maybe the stigma wouldn’t be so bad, right?

The years blazed past. Zahariel and his two sisters would graduate from Xavier’s school with flying colors, and would join the X-Men in many missions, though he often feared what his own powers could do if fully unleashed. After all, it was determined that he was pulling it from a parallel dimension; a dimension that was, at best, poorly understood. Still, Zahariel managed to keep his volatile abilities under control, and would serve as a great asset for Xavier’s cause.

That was until it became clear that humanity and mutantkind were too different to coexist. Fear would always overcome reason; the voices of the insane, the greedy, and the paranoid would often drown out those who spoke of reasonable cooperation. And so, Krakoa would be founded as an independent nation. Because of his powers over portals, Zahariel would become part of the nation’s secret service team, the X-Force. He often went on missions outside Krakoa, assessing and sometimes eliminating threats to the nation of mutantkind.

But now, he desires to know himself better. He wishes to understand where this power comes from, and why are there sometimes voices in his head…

Story Arcs.

“The Darkness Within”

Zahariel finally understands the dimension from whence he channels his powers. And it ain’t pretty.

“In the Name of Krakoa”

As a member of X-Force, Zahariel is tasked with assessing who and what might pose a threat to Krakoa. There are a lot of options to choose from.

Associates

The X-Men: Zahariel used to be in the X-Men about half a decade ago. One could say that both former and current members are friends of his.

The Return of Magic - An intro

Interesting...

Pariah

AND

Sometime in the past...

Zahariel flew back down the roof of his store, the darkness of night cloaking him from all prying eyes. There shouldn't be any at this time, anyway, as everyone around should either be asleep, drunk, or busy with something else. Plus, his establishment was further embellished by the expansive leaf cover of the vines and hedges that sprouted from the roof and sides. Several trees were set on the pavement in front of the store, which gave even more cover.

The great raven stretched his wings, feeling a bit sore after piggybacking at least two people back and forth from and into the city. Some Variants needed to be extricated from society, and so he brought them to the Underground elsewhere. And now, he didn't expect any company.

What he didn't expect, though, was that his sole employee had left something of his in the store, and would be on the way to get it back. And he didn't have great hearing.

Grassbones lept from rooftop to rooftop across New Haven. The night was growing longer, and most of the lights on the street were out by now. He dropped down into an alley and used a key to open the side door, and let himself in to retrieve something he forgot about. Thankfully, all the lights were off, and Zah was gone. Grassbones walked over to the counter and grabbed his phone. Of all the things to forget, it was that. What he didn’t know was that he wasn’t entirely alone. It was a bad idea to smoke in a flower shop, so the calcified caper didn’t have a cigarette between his teeth at the moment.

Sure enough, just as Grassbones took his phone from the counter, Murder Express dropped in from the large open hatch of the store's roof, gracefully gliding down to the expansive center aisle. It took him more than a while to spot the skeletal figure in front of the counter, but when he did, he nearly choked in awe. Why are they here? Who is this? How did they get in here? Only two people had keys in here: Zah, and…

"What the hell," Zah simply muttered as the two saw each other. "How'd you get in here?"

”Ah- Hey Z. Just forgot something and- What’n the hell?!” Grassbones didn’t realize at first that he was in the same room as Murder Express… In the shop where he worked. ”How’d you get in here?!”

Zah shook his head. "Through the hatch in the roof."

The Murder Express blinked once and then twice. "You don't know that there's a hatch up there, do you. I never told anyone that. Oh, well."

The great raven paused for another moment remembering that the skeleton's voice is so familiar. It's the same voice that he'd hear every day, all day. "Ah, I get it now. Shawn is the Grassbones. You are Shawn, and you are the Grassbones. At first I thought that you killed him and stole his keys. But then, the voice got me…"

The “voice” Zahariel was referring to didn’t sound anything remotely like what a human being should be able to manage, but the way he spoke was a dead giveaway. Grassbones stared at Murder Express for a moment, trying to wrap his head around this, before he eventually just evaporated into a cloud of smoke. From that cloud emerged Shawn Raymond, Zahariel’s coworker. ”Well. This is weird, huh?”

"What are the bloody chances, ey?" Murder Express laughed heartily before morphing back into his human form, with the black, inky mist acting as a smoke screen for whatever internal transaction he might have. Zahariel then emerged from his own cloud of darkness, holding a cane that supported his weight on his left hand.

"Fate must have intertwined and set our paths together," Zahariel began, slowly walking up towards Shawn with the same unsteady gait that he'd be associated with. Gone was the quiet majesty of the great raven; there's just Zahariel, the Martian that always needs pills.

Zah spared a glance to the flowers on the side before looking back at Shawn. "So, can I trust you to keep this whole thing as a little secret? Just between us? You know that I sometimes… pop in the news. And so do you."

”Heh. Yeah. Yeah- Hell, never took you for the kinda guy, man. What’re the odds? You and me, same work, same work too. It’s a small world.”

Shawn stuffed his phone into one of the pockets on his “costume.” It looked a lot better when he didn’t have skin. ”I won’t tell anybody, as long as you don’t rat me out either. Doubt you would, but I gotta keep it close, y’know?”

"Sure, sure, my man," Zah nodded, though he winced as his nodding caused him to have a crick. "Secrets are my specialty, after all. It comes with being a member of the Pariah Underground and an extra-planetary immigrant, after all."

He'd already told Shawn that he's Martian by this point. Thinking up excuses as to why a guy his age was on medication didn't really work out, so he just said the real deal.

"So," Zah cupped his hands together, pouting. "Are you… going somewhere or…? I'd just say 'see you tomorrow', but, you know, maybe we can, ehem, cooperate when it comes to our 'secret lives'."

”You think so? I’m down. We’re both helpin’ people, so why not?” He asked, ”I was just gonna head on home, but I can hang around if you need something done. Birdman-you, not flower guy- you.”

"Very nice!" Zahariel excitedly answered, shaking Shawn's hand until it nearly came off. "So, I've actually finished my errands for the night, so… we can begin working together on both fronts tomorrow. This is going to be fun, yeah?"

Pariah

AND

”Ah- Y’know, can’t complain. Easy day today, got a hot date with an acid-spitting lab robber, the usual. Underground treatin’ you right?” Grassbones asked, saddled between Murder Express’ “shoulders” as they climbed into the sky.

His cigarette went out against the wind.

Murder Express paused for a moment, trying to recall which one of the lab robbers could spot acid. He already dealt with Ruby and Graffite (Graphite?) back there, so that left… Flea and Noxia. Which one of them could spit acid again? Oh well, he couldn't be arsed to remember. Probably Flea.

"The Underground is swell to me," Murder Express answered. "The local leaders did just give me their praises after some recent… operations. Though the Scourge, as usual, has been threatening to expose the rest of us through their shenanigans. Things are trouble enough for us outcasts at the moment, then these people make it all worse! Oh, what a pity."

”Yeahhh. I feel you. Hard enough just tryna keep cover these days with all the drones and whatnot, ain’t any easier when these jokers make an ass outta everybody else. They’ve gotta be doing this for a reason though, I wanna find out.”

"I concur," Murder Express replied. "The only possible reason for this brazen lab burning would be some kind of nefarious scheme, perhaps to bring about… world domination. Or something like that. Though I must say that these two Scourges, Noxia and Flea, would be… dangerous to me, personally. But that won't stop me!"

”Shouldn’t be too hard. Big thing with Flea is he jumps a lot. I’m fast, but I ain’t that fast. I can dive bomb him if I jump off your back, and then give him the ol’ one-two so Nox’s all that’s left. Dunno if you’re stayin’ for the fight, but don’t let Nox see you comin’ or she’ll melt you real quick.”

"I see," came the answer. "And just in time, we're over Bywater now. And now…"

The great raven gazed downward, searching for their targets in an aerial reconnaissance. "Ah, there they are."

The mist intensified, a flock of ravens materializing in order to act as ablative armor should any acid streams come at him. As for Grassbones, he now has the opportunity to drop.

"Make sure to do a superhero pose when you land," Murder Express jokingly said. "That should throw them off!"

”Good call.” Grassbones peered down into the darkness below and saw them. Flea and Noxia running for dear life into god-knows-where. Once Murder Express got close enough, Grassbones pulled out a lighter and lit his cigarette once again, before taking a swan dive off of his ride.

He fell for what could have been a few thousand feet at most, cradling the cigarette with one hand, and landing with a loud thud just a few feet in front of where the two Scourge were headed.

”Well well fucking well. Somebody’s in a hurry tonight. It’s dangerous playin’ with chemicals you don’t know anything about, fellas. How ‘bout I take that off your hands?”

Noxia and Flea skidded to a halt when Grassbones hit the ground. Both wore a look of confusion and annoyance.

“What the hell?” Noxia yelled as she clutched the duffel a bit tighter around her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s that, uh, skeleton dude. Mind getting the fuck outta the way, Bonehead?!” Flea shouted at the smoky vigilante. He glanced into the sky to see where GB dropped from and spotted the flurry of black feathers that can only be from one particular Variant. “Looks like the Bird Brain is here too, Nox,” Flea said, nodding up at Murder Express.

“Save the chems…I wanna see if bones can melt…” Noxia said, tossing the bag to Flea. He caught it and quickly threw it over his shoulder before leaping high into the air and onto the nearest rooftop. “You want these, you gotta keep up!”

A sly grin crept across Noxia’s lips as she wiped a bit of acid from them with her clawed hand. “You dropped in on the wrong party, hun. I’m gonna enjoy this…” She darted toward Grassbones while taking a deep breath in. As soon as she was close enough, she breathed out and released a spray of acid in the skeleton’s direction.

”Heh.” Close-quarters fighting was Grassbones’ comfort zone, and it was only natural that someone who could spit acid would want to capitalize on that. When she made a rush for him, Grassbones threw himself at the ground in a way a person normally shouldn’t be able to. He swung his left arm towards his right knee, bringing his right leg up, which caused his body to twist parallel with the ground. As he did this, he was falling, and spun clockwise. Once Noxia was close enough, that spinning motion turned into a 360-degree kick to her ankle.

The idea was to use Noxia’s momentum against her, and use his own weight as a pivot point, resulting in Noxia throwing herself backwards. Grassbones would’ve counted it as brownie points if she fell with her nose in the dirt and smeared acid across her face.

Nox expected some sort of counter to her full frontal attack, so she wasn’t caught totally off-guard. However, she wasn’t able to fully dodge the ankle kick, and she was clipped as she vaulted over the attack, causing her to twist in the air and land in a sketchy crouch. The acid spray had missed her target and instead coated a small area of the ground to her left which was now sizzling as the acid corroded the street.

The momentum from that kick resulted in Grassbones having the push to bounce off of his back foot, and dart towards Noxia, who landed wobbly on the ground. After roughly 10 steps, he hurled himself forward like a cannonball, shifting his weight once he left the ground so that his feet were pointed at Noxia. What followed was a flying drop kick aimed at her entire body, as he hoped to land it before she could get back up.

Noxia recovered a bit more slowly than she would have liked as Grassbones launched his follow-up kick. She was, however, able to fully rise to her feet and brace herself rather than dodge the kick, so she quickly crossed her arms in front of her chest to block the hit. The impact was enough to take her off of both feet, and she flew back a few feet before landing on her back. Refusing to be caught off-guard a second time, she used the momentum to throw her legs up, roll onto her shoulder, and launch herself off the ground with a back handspring. Noxia landed properly this time, digging her clawed hand into the pavement to halt her backward momentum. Just as she was readying a counterattack, she heard sirens beginning to close in.

Damn, cops…this bony bastard is lucky…

Nox’s opponent was obviously quite formidable and the fight would take much longer to settle than she had time for. She made a quick scan of her surroundings for a way to end the fight before it ramped up any further. There was a streetlight directly to her right and she saw an opportunity.

“Enough with the gymnastics, smokestack!” Noxia took another deep breath in and expelled a stream of acid onto the streetlight near the base of it. The metal immediately started to corrode and she swiped the spot with her clawed hand causing the pole to buckle. It fell at just the right angle to potentially land directly onto Grassbones, though she figured he would simply move out of the way. It was more of a distraction for her to be able to escape and avoid the authorities.

Seeing the pole collapse as the acid ate into its structure, Murder Express resolved not to get anywhere within spitting range. While his gravity related health issues were nullified by his transformation, that didn't mean that other things couldn't harm him, especially not acid that could destroy metal. Instead, he summoned yet another unkindness of spectral ravens, sending them in a wave of claw and beak. He figured that they wouldn't be able to harm the reptilian scales on Noxia, but he could at least inconvenience the Scourge's escape by covering them with dark excrement. Not to mention that Flea might jump on him, which made this venture rather risky.

Grassbones, meanwhile, easily leapt out of the way once the pole collapsed. Upon seeing Noxia get harassed by more of Murder Express’ birds, he decided to use the opportunity to get a good swing in on her. He took off charging towards her as fast as he could, and aimed to swing a haymaker at her stomach to knock the wind out of her… Assuming reptiles had lungs to hold wind.

Noxia swore loudly as the swarm of black birds interrupted her getaway. She swiped furiously at a few of them before ending up facing the direction of Grassbones who was coming in hot with a gut shot. She caught the blow full-on and collapsed to one knee clutching her midsection. She wasn’t expecting such a scrawny Variant to pack that much of a punch, and she swore under her breath as it was knocked out of her.

Flea hadn’t gotten too far when he noticed that no one was coming after him. He heard the streetlight collapse to the ground from a few buildings away, and he turned to see his partner-in-crime being double-teamed by the two meddlesome Variants. He wasn’t about to leave her to suffer, so he leapt back to her rescue. Noxia glanced up as Flea landed on the roof directly above the fight. Through sheer rage and adrenaline, Nox was able to muster enough breath to yell out to her fellow Scourge.

“Don’t you dare come back for me! Can’t you hear the sirens?! Finish the mission!” Nox shouted up at Flea just as he was about to leap down and join the fray.

Flea grimaced as he considered her words. He knew she was right. After getting this far, it would be foolish to let both of them get caught up. Nox would be able to handle whatever came next. And he had no idea whether Ruby and Graff got away. He had to treat this as if he were the last man standing. Flea gripped the bag of chemicals tight to his body as he leapt with a good bit of his strength, soaring past his previous stopping point and landing about half a block away from the action. He glanced back once more as the sirens closed in on the scene, let out a huff of irritation, and continued on his escape.

The cacophony of the tires of several vehicles screeching to a halt was more vexing to Noxia than the pain in her abdomen. It was the auditory signal of both a failed mission and an impending incarceration, and it made her blood boil. She found the strength to tumble away from Grassbones before he decided to throw another strike. She stood up and took a ready stance, though her breathing was a bit labored since she was still recovering from the punch. Both New Haven PD and MADmen poured from their respective vehicles and brandished rifles and pistols at the reptilian girl. The weapons were loaded with both stun and Variant suppression ammunition since this was not a shoot-to-kill situation.

“Don’t try anything stupid! Get back on the ground!” one of the officers shouted.

“Fuck you!” Noxia yelled back as she spit some acid onto the ground toward the authorities. A handful of the officers fired on her, and in her slightly weakened state, she hadn’t the energy to attempt to dodge the incoming darts. She let out a shriek as the voltage from a few stun darts coursed through her body, and she collapsed to the ground. The suppression darts affected each Variant in a different way, and in Noxia’s case, they diluted her acidic secretions down to nearly water. At this point, she was fairly easily detained and moved into one of M.A.D.’s transport vehicles.

"It seems that we too must make our exit," Murder Express simply stated as he landed near Grassbones, motioning his shadowy head towards the police cruisers. "Shall we, friend?"

It's unfortunate that they're no longer in the position to pursue Flea. One can only hope that they'd see the results of whatever chemicals he hauled off in the next few days…

Grassbones lit another cigarette and watched the boys in blue and black cart Noxia away. ”Underground’s gonna get the flak for that stunt they pulled. Hate to see it. Let’s get lost before they bug us.” Grassbones hopped onto Murder Express’s back. Their work here was done to the best of their abilities. Ruby and Noxia were guaranteed to be locked away. Graphite was a possibility, but Flea? Well, there was always next time.

And then they flew off into the night.

The Star-Breakers

"There is no greater calling than to explore the stars, seeing all you can ever see, experiencing all you ever could, and bring glory to our race. Then you shall return to enrich our home, and take your place with honor."

High Explorator Savas Kalhian of the Explorer's League

---

Well, it took them long enough. Banshee, the gas tank (a tank in both senses of the word) arrived, prompting memories of Sar-Vanthan and Rainbow Comet City warships going to join a war involving the Thetos. They fought on both sides of the conflict; it just depended on who paid them more.

A far more concerning arrival would be Aftershot, who came after Banshee. Now, Kelmandrar suspected that the Cybertronian so far had just been polite for the sake of professionalism. After all, the Eye of the Storm, Kelmandrar's old ship, participated in the Cybertronian Civil War, and committed some spicy war crimes. Even the Sarveli on-board was shocked at the captain's complete lack of ethics, and, just as surprisingly, were sad over the city-wide nuking. Though that sadness was more in a sense similar to when a human is saddened when they witness news that the population of a certain animal species had been extinguished. Well, on top of the fact that they were wasting ammunition, anyway. Hopefully they don't have too many quarrels in the days to come.

Then came the rodent. At first, Kelmandrar couldn't figure out whether Slink was a mutated rat from the sewers of some human city, or were a wholly different species that just happened to look similar to rats. The major concern, though, was that he entered through the air vents. Could be useful should they be boarded…

After Slink was the spectral… whatever. Kelmandrar that Strata comes from wherever the Sarveli pull their powers from, if it wasn't from out of their buttholes. It was pretty comical seeing him… she… it… them being impaled in many places, though.

Skylar the human came next, the cybernetics reminding Kelmandrar of the scientists back home. They too liked to replaced their body parts with machinery in a quest for maximum efficiency.

Wex the slimy fish entered next, ducking under the human's arm as if there were no alternate routes. Oh, and the doctor. Why is she late?

When Kura mentioned that they were going to a desert planet, Kelmandrar almost fell over from his standing position like a drunk. Despite his long life so far, he'd never actually set foot on a desert world. The closest equivalent to it was the small desert in one of Sar-Vantha's constituent space stations, but that was there to serve as a training ground for the pyromaniac Sarveli psykers that made up the psychic forces of the station-chain. They'd often take turns heating up sand until it turned to glass before grinding more rock from the nearby asteroid belt to make even more sand. At times, the more artistically inclined of them would create glass sculptures made using pyromantic psychic powers and a copious amount of sand. He supposed that those arrogant immortals weren't a total waste of oxygen.

Still, this was a new opportunity for him. As he belonged to a species that was nigh immune to radiation, the rays of the sun wouldn't be a concern for him.

"A most excellent deal, honoured captain," Kelmandrar stated, half cackling, half laughing (or was it just cackling?). "It will take me no more than a quarter of an hour to be fully prepared. Lucky for us, solar radiation cannot harm me."

He said that last part while looking at Skylar with wry eyes, as if stating "I got you homie." That's how the humans would say it, anyway.

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

Date/Time: November 11,2022
Location: Redline, Maine; en route to the Museum of Parahuman History

"I will defeat you with the power of friendship. Oh, and these stars! Hah! At your face!"

---

Alman simply watched their merry little party of crazy teens, endowed with frankly horrifying powers and less than stellar backgrounds. From what he heard from gossip during the introductions, some were straight up orphans, others were kicked out of their houses, and a couple were abused in ways more than one. Oh, and there are a few of those with stable homes. Including himself, he supposed, as he checked his phone and saw the latest series of messages from his parents. They kept asking him if he had already eaten, if he was well, if his companions were absolutely insane.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be fine," Alman said to no one in particular as he resisted the urge to conjure a star for the laughs. He really itched to see if he was well-practiced with his powers, but that was apparently going to happen once they got down to the ground.

Alman found the whole situation odd. What would any of the groups of... evil parahumans gain from attacking a museum of all places? What are they gonna do? Steal a retired hero's costume and then parade it around like a dog on crack? Take the outside underwear and then use it for themselves?

Maybe they needed money for their nefarious schemes, and wished to auction off some stale and unused spandex?

"Anyway, any of you played Dungeons and Dragons? Or, I guess, any RPG game with class roles in it?"

So, one of them, Wattson apparently, had begun to strike a conversation. Perfect, Alman thought, as he formulated an answer.

"I don't know if it fits. But I play... Eh... League of Legends," Alman said, shuddering with how the others might react to that information. One of their group, belonging to one of the most toxic gaming communities out there? What if they thought he fit the bill of 'a typical League player?'

Another, named Bastion, asked what they could do. She makes forcefields... huh, neat.

"I... blow up stuff. And melt stuff down," Alman continued, creating a sphere of crimson light. "I make these little spheres of plasma, which I guess you can call miniature stars. Anyways, you lot can just call me Alman. 'Astromancer' might be a mouthful to say after all."

Pariah

"Right- Now lets scramble. Mind dropping me in Bywater?"

"Sure, my good sir," Murder Express answered with the same echoing voice. The swarm of spectral ravens returned to him, melting back into the black mist that permeated his eldritch body. Strangely enough, though, one of them stayed, flying in a circle before perching itself on top of Murder Express' head.

It would appear that Zah liked his pets, even if they were but pale imitations of himself that are made out of shadow, imagination, and spite.

"Bywater, huh," Zah remarked as he began to lift off from the alley, blowing dust and other nasty particulates at Ruby. He took a moment to hover over the Scourge Variant, whom he had no love for.

"You really like ruining things for everyone else, don't you?" Zah grumbled at Ruby, his tone sounding as if he was her disappointed father. Considering the fact that no one actually knew who Murder Express was, a theory like that might have a lot of support backing it, though it would ultimately be proven false.

"The rest of us are just trying to live honest lives, and yet, here you are, doing the opposite of laying low. What part of 'lay low' and 'keep a low profile' don't you understand, anyway? If he were still alive, Imrahil would be fuming!"

Imrahil was his late brother, of course, but it's not like anyone else in the Underground knew their exact relationship. Most would just assume that they found a reason to bond when one turns into a giant tentacle monster, and the other is a titanic raven.

"Anyway," Murder Express croaked, "Congratulations, on being the reason why we're screwed!"

With that, the giant raven and his two passengers flew off, heading to Bywater.

"Oh, right, you," Zahariel looked down at Graphite who was firmly in his grip. "Goodbye!"

Graphite landed with a resounding plop as he got dropped into a pile of mud as Murder Express flew past. Zah knew that he can't really hurt Graphite, so he decided to simply inconvenience him as much as possible.

"So," Murder Express began, his lone spectral raven intensely staring at Grassbones. "How are you, Grassy?"

Pariah

Seeing that Sear had decided to leave the field of battle, Zahariel reconsidered his stance in the fight. It was now just Grassbones facing off against the two Scourge members; he doubted that Grassy (as he had come to nickname the skeletal Variant) would be able to ever defeat or even delay them. Giraffe… Graffiti, no, Graphite would just keep backhanding him back and forth with those stony hands of his. Sure, he wouldn't get hurt, as he doesn't have a nervous system to feel any pain with, and no flesh to speak of (though Zah wondered if a fractured bone could make him feel something?), but he's just a smoking skeleton.

As for Zah, he's an eldritch raven, and he has a surprise of his own.

The dark mist that exuded from his form intensified, spectral ravens coalescing from the black smoke. With a single thought, the flock of forty shadow ravens flew forth, pestering Ruby and Graphite. Mostly Ruby, because Graphite has stony skin and wouldn't get affected by their attacks in the slightest.

With his partner sufficiently distracted, Zah set his eyes on Graphite. Without a word, he spread his vast wings, casting a shadow in the moonlight. He flew down with the grace of any bird of prey (nevermind that ravens are carrion birds…), talons seeking out Graphite. He sought to take hold of the stony Metamorphic Variant, and fly with him in tow. Zah wondered what he'll do. Maybe they could have a little chat before he drops Graphite to a garbage disposal, right where he belongs?

"Oh, hello, Grassbones," Zah said as he tried to clamp down on Graphite, his voice echoing as if there were a dozen speakers in his avian throat. He sounded pretty serene, at least. "The authorities draw close. Care for a joint departure?"

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

.

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

Alman Kastrati, the Astromancer

---

---

"Sometimes, the stars gaze back."

---

---

Name: Alman Kastrati

Alias: Astromancer

Nicknames: Alms

Age: 17

Gender: A boi

Personality: Alman has a generally pleasant demeanor, and seems to be "chill" most of the time. He is noted to be highly enamored by ‘cute, fluffy animals’, and possesses a keen sense of intuition of trustworthiness. Alman is pretty protective of those folks he happens to like, though those that he had a bad experience of could expect to be suddenly abandoned in the middle of a fight.

Aside from that, Alman is incredibly petty. Ruin his day, or his property? He’ll do the same, but he’ll try to make it a bit worse for whoever pissed on his parade. He is pretty much the embodiment of karma in this regard; actions will come back around, so better be nice to the guy, or else you’ll find yourself randomly inconvenienced by small, but infuriating things. Rule of thumb with Alman, then, is that he always returns to sender.

Appearance:

My Hider

Alman is 5’3” in height, with markedly Caucasian features, though he gravitates to the somewhat tanner side. His pupils are amber in color, accompanied by black framed glasses. Those glasses are auto-darkening, and react accordingly whenever he summons stars. His clothing choices usually gravitate around cloaks and other comfortable, flowing garments. Apparently, he sees it as ‘liberating’.


As a Cape, he uses a suit that is shielded from the effects of his own stars, such as bright flashes and radiation. The cape on his back has a star pattern on it, which seamlessly blends into the starry sky at night. The vital areas are covered by protective kevlar, while a high grade helmet with a wide visor keeps his head safe. Overall, it is quite comfortable to be in, just as he prefers all clothes to be. It is not the most mobile of outfits, but it serves its purpose.

Biography: Alman wasn’t from Redline originally. Nor was he originally a citizen of the United States, either. His earliest memories, at least as far as he is willing to admit, traces back to their apartment in the city of Pristina, Kosovo, as the firstborn son of Selim and Jelena Kastrati.

Either way, Alman doesn’t remember all too much of his home country, as his family left it when he was five years old due to the highly volatile situation that it was in. They first arrived in New York City, and then moved up further north into Maine, where they finally settled down, somewhat. Now, they faced a whole new world.

As a child, he had the dream of becoming an astronaut, and reaching out towards the stars. Every night, he would look through the telescope, thinking of impossible dreams as typical for someone of such a young age. He knew every famous star and constellation, recognizing them as they shone in the night sky. Alman had quite a few difficulties with the English language, and was as such bullied for it in school, though that was simply the first reason. Other causes arose, namely because of his lack of aptitude for sports, and other generic reasons. He was passive though, and simply took it without telling anyone else, as he knew he couldn't fight back against the likes of them. Not like this. He would just get beaten even more. To make matters worse, his mother had been feeling unwell a lot of the time, but she always said that it was just her getting tired at work, which just made Alman worry to the point of being nearly physically sick. It seemed that the sorry state of everything was going to stay that way for a very long time.

One day, however, everything changed. Alman' mother had fallen ill. All those headaches weren’t just from the stress of work; it was a brain tumour. Alas, they didn't have the money to pay for the medication/medical bills to aid with her situation. She was, in all respects, dying.

In desperation, Alman’ father and uncle went to a dangerous, but deceptively friendly connection. They did not know what price they might pay in the process of getting the funds they required, but surely any sacrifice was worth it, if only her life was saved? By this point, Alman’ mother’s cancer was close to getting to a terminal stage, and there was little time left before it would begin to be difficult to dislodge.

That connection that they went to, it turned out, was a group for organized crime, who had them meet outside at night, where the Milky Way itself was visible in the sky. They were apparently willing to provide the money that the Kastratis needed, if only they would do something in return. That something, however, was heinous in its nature. Murderous, even. The boss wanted someone dead, and the assassination was their price. Alman father and uncle balked at this. They had expected something that would involve them and themselves alone, but it now seemed that this would be a life for a life. Now that they know who was the target, though, they cannot leave. Not until they say yes to the deal.

And so, the gangsters took hold of Alman’ father and uncle, and began to beat them to submission. The crime lord made him watch, forcibly keeping his eyes open even as he tried to look away. Here, he felt rage, and chaos. Rage at his father for believing that it was a good idea to plead the mafia for aid. Rage at the mafia for what they were now doing, and what they would make them do in exchange for a promise they may never carry out. He managed to close his eyes shut, if only for a moment, and heard only the chaos from his surroundings; the laughing of vicious thugs, the cries of pain, the sounds of blunt implements impacting against flesh. Rage. Disorder. They were all his to bear.

At that moment, an entity that skirted in the dimensions far above the ken of mortal perceptions found a suitable vessel. A shard unraveled, and in a split second, Alman was enlightened. He could now create the shiniest of lights, the fiercest of flames, the purest manifestation of starfire. And so, instead of his family being the victims that night, the gangsters were annihilated. Orbs of starlight burst into existence, setting clothing and flesh alight. The chaotic constellation that ensued wiped out the gangsters, purging them from the face of the earth. The gang were all dead, and the Kastrati clan still lived. The money, which had been in a suitcase as a fleeting proof of the deal they could have made, was now theirs for the taking. His mother will live, but at what cost?

Later in the morning, as the Kastratis recovered and spoke to one another about the events of last night, PRT investigations found traces of ionized gas within the area of concern, as well as charred bodies belonging to some of the most notorious gangsters in the state. Investigations pinpointed just who these gangsters were supposed to meet at the night, which led them to this moment. Self defense was cited as defensible cause for such wanton destruction, but such an ability was still extremely dangerous for public life.

The PRT caught wind, and showed up in the Kastrati doorstep, having found that he had obliterated around two dozen or so 'people'. It was clear that Alman cannot remain in regular society like this. His parents were somewhat resistant to the idea that their only child is to go away from them, but they relented after about a week as the ultimatum became heavier. In exchange for around the clock protection for them, Alman was to enter the Wards Program.

Powers:
Classification: Blaster 6
Astromancy: Alman produces and channels plasma energy. He is as such able to create and maintain up to four miniature stars at a given time, with three distinct modes that operate in a sliding scale of heat and light. They can move at around 7 to 8 meters per second, with any turns requiring pauses in movement.

Mode 1 (Searing Star): Capable of melting through most metals, as well as turning sand into glass at physical contact. By far the dimmest, but the most potent in terms of destructive potential. These can immolate most materials that they may come across.

Mode 2 (Blinding Star): Little to no destructive capability, but the brightness emanating when it is created acts as a powerful flashbang, temporarily disorienting and blinding those who had not protected their eyes.

Mode 3 (Main Sequence): Seemingly unremarkable, these main sequence stars, as he calls them, are able to sear wood and stone, and can be difficult to look at for prolonged periods. This is the foundation from which the other two derive from in their creation.
Skills: When he was still unpowered, Alman was noted to be a great painter.
Other: No girlfriend since birth, sadly.