Name: Jackdaw Missouri. He goes by 'Jack', however. Shorter.
Alias: N/A
Age: 21
Appearance:Jack's appearance has obviously been tailored from his rough lifestyle growing up, like most young men these days. A calloused and tough-fleshed person, Jack has light, chocolate-brown skin, obviously showing of his African-American descent and heritage. His eyes are a dark gray, with an obvious golden-amber hue amongst the middle of both eyebrows, circulating the iris; a natural, genetic mutation, he had thought at first. Something that stands out on his otherwise chiseled, defined face, is the multitude of sharp, livid-red scars dotting along the flesh. One such scar, long and jagged, goes down his left eye, while a smaller, yet no-less shallower scar dips along his fore-head, skirting over his left eyebrow, effectively creating an 'X'-like scar on the young man's visage. Jack's physique, much like his appearance has been defined by his lifestyle; muscular, yet defined and lean, giving him the build of a tough, strong, and fast man, body built from sprinting long distances with heavy loads, lifting heavy items, and rough-housing and fighting every day/other day.
His hair is short and black, matching his eyebrows, as in most cases. The young man's clothing tends to change with the day, but his 'main' outfit, constantly washed and dried out, is a tough, durable, leather brown jacket, unzipped, whilst the collar itself is buttoned around his neck. It's weathered, yet practical, obviously having seen better days. Similarly tough, weathered, and lightly faded-along-the-bottom dark jeans completes his lower body, the right pants-leg tucked into the metal-sewn combat boot. Underneath the jacket, he wears a non-descript black shirt, with dark green, padded, fingerless gloves completing the ensemble. Multiple high-caliber bullets were strapped to various strategic points on his clothing - a necessity for his high-powered revolver, which didn't hold magazines. However, it was all taken away when he was 'arrested'.
Abilities/Skills: Jack's abilities are more that of a natural Meta-Human, rather than anything honestly 'funky', or 'crazy'. The group he traveled with - effectively called his 'family' - has always said that it made him seem like somewhat of an eagle, but Jack doesn't really care. Basically, his strength, speed, durability, agility, and the likes are all enhanced to a level superior to that of a human.
However, one of his most defining traits is his unnatural reflexes, precision, accuracy, and hand-to-eye coordination. These qualities are supernatural, even to Meta-Human standards. He can hit a fly's wind from miles away, with a sling-shot and a small pebble...trust me, he's done it before. Due to this, his accuracy with any sort of fire-arm/ranged weapon is just...good. It's perfect. A downfall to his powers would most-likely be motion sickness; although his immune system is on-point, he can get sick easily whenever there isn't a sense of gravity around him; basically, levitation isn't his thing, and neither is space-travel, or floating around in a plane. If he's moving at a fast speed through the air, it isn't bad. Just...weightlessness hates him, and he hates it.
Backstory: Jack's history isn't the most tragic, leading up to the present...but it is definitely filled with different hardships and trials. His original parents...well, naturally, he assumes that they were the classic biker and harlot couple, that had promptly left his butt in some rubble, back at Tower's Fall. The memories are hazy at best, but according to his
real mother, they had found his starving body sun-baked to a slab of glass-shredded concrete, about half-way to death.
They had taken care of him, nursing his small, child body back to health, good enough to let his Meta-Human factor heal the rest of the injuries and neglect over the course of the next few months.
They were the Talon Company, an infamous Mercenary company, former Deathtroopers of Presidium, and now a tight-knit, small group that traveled the world, doing often dirty and gruesome deeds for a hefty sum. Due to their lack of allegiance and general mystery, and their lack of Meta-Human prowess, the Talon Company wasn't hunted down by any of the new countries, seeing as their work was efficient, swift, and direct; taking out the Talon Company wasn't something you just did on a passing fancy; they were useful.
The two people whom had noticed him first, and officially raised him on the dusty trail, was Cassie Missouri and Reggie Missouri, the two Leaders of the Talon Company, and his new mother and father. Life growing up on the road was tough, and his parents, and the Company, expected much out of him - especially when they discovered the true power of his Meta-Human physiology. Despite hesitation amongst the women, the men trained him in the arts of stealth, close-combat, and especially fire-arms, as early as the age of 4, and due to his photographic mind and supernatural body, he rolled with the punches, becoming a skilled Talon Company Mercenary at the age of 12, where he began taking contracts with the rest of the men and women.
Years passed, with Jack over-all staying off the grid as a mercenary...and then, it was swift, it was bloody, and it was pure traumatizing. At the age of 20, one day before his birthday, they were taken out. Apparently, his father, Reggie, hadn't fulfilled a contract fully, for Vandal Savage - that is, taking out some rebellious forces heading Northwards towards Germania. He wanted Reggie and the Company to do it due to the lack of political and physical backlash it would cause Germania...but Reggie wasn't happy with the money. The contract, albeit promised, wasn't fulfilled.
The Company was swamped by Germanian forces, and taken out.
Only Jack survived, after fighting with everything he had. Without preparation, time, stealth, companions, and night-time to his advantage, he had no chance to take out the forces. In the end, he was shackled and captured.
When he awoke, he was in prison. How did he end up under Blockbuster's charge? He didn't know. Maybe a trade had happened whilst he was out? Regardless...he wanted revenge for his family's death. He wanted; no, needed to get out of this prison.
A bullet would enter Vandal's skull, and he would pull the trigger.
Sample Post: Notes: My favorite beverage would have to be Sprite...who doesn't like Sprite?
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