Zeroth

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

@ERodeSure! Esfir's group is now at the caves---Lazash and Vola went in to scout, Grunthor and Akeno attacked a rocky slime, and then something blew up! Perfect time for Esfir to return from her short break!

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

whats the condition of the dead thing the harpy was eating? like are its eyes kind of milky (if there at all)? or is it or parts of it look edible?

@ReusableSword

It's clearly carrion at this point, fur falling out, skin/viscera dried on the exposed bones, got that sour roadkill smell, etc.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Late update (for me anyway)! @Crusader Lord and @Unkown58, good job surviving--the last time someone threw fire at a Flak Beetle, it didn't go nearly this well.

@ReusableSword Not trying to force Agar to group up or anything, just mentioning the environmental effects since the Runts are certainly raising a ruckus in the area.

@Timemaster Just so you'll know OOC, Carmina's "Encourage" affect DID work...but "Encourage-ing" something through a spell, doesn't exactly mean the same as convincing them to follow her words. She essentially buffed the two monsters that were already about to fight one another, lol.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

The Forest

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@Rune_Alchemist@Timemaster

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Svarok managed to nimbly evade the low strike from the hatchet-wielding goblin, and launched another Holy Bolt at the spear-gob. The glowing sphere struck it like a fastball to the face, smashing into its cheek and seeming to “spin” in place for a moment as its jaw was slightly distended. The creature went down spluttering through bloodied lips—it wasn’t dead, but dazed as if by a heavy punch to just the right spot on the chin. In the process it clumsily dropped its weapon!

The hatchet goblin looked much more nervous now, but still flourished its crude instrument. Then Carmina’s voice rang out, and the creature yelped as it turned to look at her. But as the notes of her song rolled over the three creatures, both goblins suddenly seemed to wobble slightly on their feet. Svarok, too, felt an oddly calming sensation spill over her, like a warm hand rubbing her shoulder.

Warning: Your MP is Low.

You have been Soothed. You are already non-hostile to the caster; no negative Mental Status Effects to disperse.

SYSTEM:Svarok

The goblins’ movements slowed, and while the one Svarok had hit twice now slowly began to gather itself up off the ground, the one with the hatchet looked between Carmina and Svarok as if it saw them with new eyes. That anger it had before wasn’t gone, but it almost seemed like it had taken ten breaths to calm down in a split second.

“Ah, um—haha! Hee hee, silly orclings, you fall for classic goblin joke!” It gave them a lopsided smile and put its hatchet behind its back. “We’s only pretends! Not really gonna kill yas or, um, eat yas!” Its eyes darted back and forth, towards the goblin still picking itself up and then towards the bushes that goblin had come from. Then back to the runts. Then back to those bushes. “Uh, um…so…how’s uh, how is orclingses’ day going?”

In a moment, that other goblin would have its wits back enough to grab its spear. Moving to take the spear themselves would put an Orc Runt at the mercy of the hatchet wielding goblin…but maybe they were fast enough to avoid him if they knew a surprise attack was coming? Maybe he really didn’t intend to attack again, now that it was a more even fight? Or maybe they’d just get him out of the way first…

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@ReusableSword

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From the bushes, where he’d watched all this time with the patience of a true hunter, Agar lunged! Both arms, scrawny as they might be, held his stick firmly and brought it down on the Harpy full-force! The creature was none the wiser until the last instant, and with a meaty crunch the piece of wood slammed down on its already injured shoulder! The stick let out a loud crack as it splintered—but so did the bone under the bird-like monster’s mottled gray skin. It screeched and tried to leap away. Its wing, however, sagged in the joint socket, and it stumbled and fell before it could attempt to fly. The fall only aggravated its injury, prompting another screech of agony as it thrashed and flopped on the ground—

Perhaps this sudden pain and panic sped up the flow of poison through its veins. The purple bruise, under the Tatzelwurm’s teeth marks, grew darker. The creeping, ivy-like color reached the monster’s throat and upper chest. It suddenly spasmed, spat up thickened, dark blood…

And then it died.

Victory! Loot Obtained:
Mangled Tainted Harpy x1
Eviscerated Tatzelwurm x1

Quest: Find Something to Eat and Bring it Back Whole

• Kill a Creature

Ingested New Creature: Slime
Learned Skill: Blunt Damage Resistance
Explored Areas: Orc Camp, Forest
New Creatures Observed: Tatzelwurm, Harpy
New Creature Killed: Harpy

LEVEL UP!
Choose ONE:

• Increase HP (Health)
• Increase MP (Magic)
• Increase SP (Stamina)
• Gain 1 Skill Rank Point

SYSTEM:Agar

With everything besides Agar in the small clearing now dead, and that one life sign he’d seen with Field Scan long gone, the sudden silence of the forest was almost eerie. No birds chirped and no bushes rustled…

If he strained his ears he might hear something that sounded like singing—or screaming—coming from somewhere fairly far away, but probably still within the forest. Or, he might hear something like…a firework, going off in the distance up to the north, back towards the mountains.

Now he had to decide what to do with the two corpses in front of him, and whether he would continue hunting, investigate some other point of interest in the area, or simply return to the camp with his spoils. He’d been pretty lucky so far…would he continue to push it?

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North Caves

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@Unkown58@Lucius Cypher@King Cosmos@Kazemitsu@Crusader Lord

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When Vola saw the Flak Beetle shoot another flaming projectile, her first instinct was to throw something back—namely, a Short Wooden Spear—using her makeshift launcher. Lazash, on the other hand, immediately dove for cover even as her companion shouted the same. The beetle’s blast struck the ground between them, and released an explosion that would throw Vola off her feet and catch the edges of her ragged clothing with smoldering sparks. She scrambled for cover herself, but if she didn’t do something quick her former swaddling rags would soon ignite and take the rest of her with them!

But as luck would have it, her spear actually hit the beast! The Flak Beetle let out a shrill screech as the hard carapace over one of its wings cracked open under the wooden javelin. Normally, such a weapon wouldn’t have a hard enough tip or enough force behind it (not from an Orc Runt, anyway) to penetrate the chitinous layers—but Gren’s clever spear launcher multiplied Vola’s strength more than twice, and the weapon struck true! It drove right through the shell and into a crag between the rocky wall, pinning the beetle in place!

Its mandibles clacked angrily, and its thorax swelled as that glow intensified again! But Lazash had prepared to throw another Fire Bolt if she saw it attack again, and this definitely seemed like it planned on further hostilities! So she let fly!

Warning: Your MP is low.

SYSTEM:Lazash

The Flak Beetle inhaled, and its mouth parts began to glow. Lazash’s Fire Bolt flew through the air. Vola’s spear continued to hold between the stones.

The Runts had both taken cover, previously. Thus, between them was open space. The Flak Beetle had also backed up earlier. Thus, the “path of least resistance” was contained by the narrow opening in the back of the cave, directing it forward in a less widespread path.

This was all very good. Because when Lazash’s Fire Bolt hit it in the face and the flames went in, instead of out, the Flak Beetle exploded.

Both Vola and Lazash, from their cover across from each other, watched a shockwave of flame, dust, and rock powerful enough to indirectly rattle their bones thunder past them in an instant. The heat felt like opening an out-of-control oven and nearly losing their eyebrows. Their vision was seared white for a few painful seconds as the flames passed. Their ears rang painfully and then all sounds seemed as if they came from underwater.

Up ahead, Gren happened to be lucky that he was standing to one side of the cave’s entrance. Most of the flames had died down, but a powerful, roaring aftershock of dust, debris, and heat spewed into the open air. Grunthor and Akeno had moved away to deal with the slime as well, otherwise at least one of them would’ve definitely been caught in it. Nonetheless, the blast certainly caught their attention—as well as sending most other critters in the local area running for cover, including the rock-crab and the dire rat up above. They almost fell off their ledge, before scrambling back up and skedaddling in opposite directions.

The explosion lasted a mere fraction of a second, and in its wake as their hearing slowly recovered, Lazash and Vola would notice the sound of rocks crumbling and crashing to the ground…but it wasn’t a cave in. At least, not the kind you saw in the movies that threatened to kill everyone and seal off the whole tunnel. Only the most fragile bits of rock had shattered or fallen down. It made a bit of a mess and spilled slippery gravel and sharp shards all over the ground, but if anything it had actually widened out the narrow tunnel a bit…Because a big chunk of that shiny, green-streaked substance in the side of one wall had been blasted into much smaller fragments that clackity-clacked all over the cave floor…



And then, of course, there were a few…bits and pieces…of the Flak Beetle left. The rest of the shriveled, burnt mushrooms had been apparently vaporized.

Victory! Loot Obtained:
Flak Beetle Chunks x4 - Harvest Potential reduced by 70%

SYSTEM:Lazash_Vola

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Meanwhile, Akeno’s Fire Bolt hit the earthen slime at an angle, blasting the little monster a few feet across the ground! It let out a gurgling yelp as it tumbled, and its rubbery membrane smoked from the impact. As it shook its head—or rather, its whole body—and blinked its eyespots, it screeched again as Grunthor had already stormed up to it! With both hands the male Runt brought his Spiked Club down right on top of the slime’s own spiky, stony carapace. Both one of the bone spikes, and one of the stones, chipped as the impact wobbled the slime’s whole form. It rolled backwards, and shook itself yet again.

But before Akeno or Grunthor could follow up, a sudden BOOM behind them would shock both of them. Even the slime was lifted off the ground by the sudden explosion. Considering that it was outnumbered, taking considerable damage, and now the earth itself seemed to be making too much noise, the stony jelloball decided now was the time to get the hell out of Dodge. With a squeak, it turned away from the two orclings and began rolling towards the nearby shallow stream, bouncing along the way as if it were getting ready to try and jump the waters.

Would the two runts pursue their quarry, or run back to make sure their friends hadn’t just been splattered all over the rocks?

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

I think I need to wait and see what happens to the slime before I can post anything.

@King Cosmos

Can do! Mini Mid-Week Update!

@Rune_Alchemist@Timemaster

Svarok, Gobbos, Carmina

Carmina would feel a strange vibration flowing through her voice as energy seemed to drain from her. Both the slime and the jackalope would jerk their heads up in surprise when she began to sing, but they were still wary of one another as much as they were this new being in their midst. A soft, translucent orange glow suffused both monsters as Carmina's spell seemed to take effect.

But when she turned to head towards the screaming, neither beast followed her. Instead they went back to their previous staredown---yet that didn't last long either. Surprisingly, the docile jackalope was the first to make a move, leaping at the slime, and the gooey, spherical monster responded in kind!

As another fight broke out behind her, though, Carmina would come upon another Orc runt---Svarok---in the middle of being attacked by goblins!

---

As Svarok dodged the charging goblin's spear and smacked it over the head, she would hear a loud crack from the wooden stick in her hands. It wasn't broken, but its durability was certainly in question. That said, a nice welt was already showing on the goblin's stringy-haired scalp as it reeled back in a daze.

"Gank up on da orcling!" The scream came from the very same goblin who, moments ago, had been begging for his life. His companion shook its head and snarled at Svarok, holding its spear ready for another attempt. The first goblin tried to flank her, and swung its stone hatchet at one of her legs!

But over the goblins' shorter heads, she'd be able to see another Orc runt---Carmina---emerge from the bushes!

@Crusader Lord@Unkown58@Lucius Cypher@King Cosmos@Kazemitsu

Caves and Slimes

The rolling slime would've gone past the group, but Grunthor stepped into its path and swung for the greens! As his spiked club impacted the stony-scaled jello-ball hard enough to rattle his wrists, the slime let out a scream and arced back up the slopes. It narrowly missed the trunk of a tree, but instead crashed into a bundle of bushes near the leaning trunk. After a beat of silence, the branches parted once more and the slime emerged with what might've passed for an angry wrinkle above its eyespots. As it slithered back towards Grunthor it stopped about thirty feet away from him, and oozed over a pile of gravel.

Then, as the rocks beneath it were sucked up into its mass, it stretched itself up higher and formed a sort of funnel shape beneath its eyes.

One rock started to glow with a metallic yellow sheen---and then shot towards Grunthor not like a spitball, but a pro-baseball pitch!

---

Meanwhile, inside the cave, the Flak Beetle hadn't yet reacted to the mushrooms beneath it suddenly shooting their spores all over the place. When Lazash unleashed her Fire Bolt, however, it scuttled backwards further along the ceiling, into the narrow tunnel. It rustled the shell plates over its wings aggressively---but still, it did not attack yet.

Lazash would take a stroke from the lashing tendrils over her shoulder, drawing blood and leaving a stinging welt. Two other tendrils struck the spots where the spores had coated the stones, and immediately withdrew back into the mushrooms that had spawned them.

The Fire Bolt hit the mushrooms---and a leftover cloud of spores. In a phenomenon known as a "dust explosion," the fine-grains of fungal matter went up in a great "whoosh," though thankfully it wasn't exactly a "bomb." Nonetheless, Lazash and Vola were nearly blinded by the instant flash and felt their bodies come close to singing as the heat washed over them. The mushrooms, on the other hand, actually shrieked as they burned---not because they had vocal chords, but because of some property of air escaping their formerly swollen spore pods and tendril "mouths" as the flames consumed them.

Within seconds only blacked, shriveled husks were left. The Flak Beetle, having withdrawn even further from the flames, chose this moment to expand its wings and point its mandibles at the two Runts with a hiss.

They saw its glowing thorax expand as the light within it intensified. And then as the beetle released that pressure through its mouth, a second bolt of flame lit up the cave, racing towards them!

The Gifted (Reborn)

@Zeroth Nope it's not a requirement to be in either of those places! I would just recommend you be somewhere in the vicinity.

@Ace of flames01

I posted! I didn't mention any particular city names or anything, just a rough estimation of distance at most. Please let me know if anything in the post should be changed for any reason.

The Gifted (Reborn)

LAST NIGHT

[ - ]

[ - ]

BLACKWEB

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The greatest part of working in a twenty-four hour electronics store was being able to spend most of the night gaming. The shift manager didn’t care—more than likely he was already asleep on the cot he kept in the back office. Rarely did anyone actually come in after nine or ten o’clock, which meant the scruffy-faced clerk could slip on a headset and settle back behind the counter, eyes fixed on one of the display screens across the aisle...until it showed him a “connection error.” With a silent curse, he waited for the troubleshooter to diagnose what was wrong. He glanced at another one of the display units on the next aisle. That one was still set to a normal channel, and currently playing some late-night talk show garbage. While he waited for his network to resolve whatever bug was keeping him from his matches, the clerk tuned in for just a minute or two…

<sub>”—and an upper-brass of the “Hunters” program! We’re so glad to have him tonight, folks!” The host, a man with a jawline like a sledgehammer and a plastic-surgically perfect smile, shook hands with the guest before sitting down behind his desk. The other guy wore a crisp, three-piece suit, all-black of course, and too stiff to be unpadded cloth. He lowered himself to the plush recliner like a machine on hydraulics.

“So, what’s it like, being a Hunter? Must be pretty scary, facing down…the kind of folks you do?” A slight falter in the host’s cheek, imperceptible to most.

“You must mean Gifted individuals, right?” A lump dropped in the host’s throat, but he nodded. The other man in the suit smiled, and leaned back, and flipped his wrist to adjust the fancy watch wrapped around it. An easy motion. “Well, it’s certainly not easy—I mean, imagine yelling at a guy, “put ‘em up!” and he literally starts floating into the air, huh?” The man pantomimed with his arms as if he too would just hover away, and pre-canned laughter played. “Ah, but seriously. The thing you have to remember is that the Gifted, well, they aren’t monsters. They’re still people, like you and me—just ones that have a very dangerous, potentially deadly, condition.”

“Wow! It’s great that you’re able to hold onto that mindset!” The host didn’t actually seem surprised by the line. “You know, lots of folks have seen it at least once, these days—somebody picking up a car like it’s a toy, or literally spitting fire! I mean, it’s downright crazy what some of these mutations can do! What about those ones, uh, whaddya call ‘em, the Alphas?”</sub>

The bell above the store’s door jingled, and the clerk’s head snapped around. Two guys entered—young, slouchy, wearing baggy clothes. Typical customers, although out a whole lot later than most. Nonetheless he called out to them.

“Good evening! Let me know if there’s anything I can do—” they’d already turned the aisle. He didn’t even get a good look at their faces. But he could see they were headed towards the gaming section. It wasn’t unusual for types like that to avoid as much human contact as possible. The clerk had a deep personal understanding of that notion.

The game still hadn’t connected—he was probably going to have to reset the router again—so he turned his attention back to the talk-show. The guest had been explaining something, and the clerk had to run the last few minutes of background noise through his head to mentally catch-up…

<sub>“Right. Well, you see, Alpha is just a form of classification for Gifted whose powers are known to be extremely destructive—and not always under their control. Through no fault of their own, of course.” The guest was looking at the camera, or ostensibly the crowd behind it, now. As if he were speaking to them personally. “Imagine if you woke up one day, and your sweat was just…pure nitroglycerin? You wipe off when it gets hot—just like that!” He pointed at the host, currently engaged in applying a white handkerchief to his forehead. “And then when you throw the towel in the laundry? BOOM! Like a stick of dynamite!” The host slowly fingered the cloth back into his pocket. That smile was starting to slip.

“Hence the need for the Hunters in the first place, then?” The man’s jaw loosened for a moment as his eyes glanced somewhere off camera, then returned to the guest’s face. Which hadn’t changed at all from that welcoming, laid back, chatty expression. “If an individual like that decided they wanted to hurt people, I can’t see a lot of ways to stop them. Unless maybe they move to the North Pole year round!” Again, the artificial laughs from an unseen gallery.

“Exactly. The reason I came on tonight, you see, is because people have the wrong idea about us.” The guest leaned forward, like he was sharing something personal to him. “They think Hunters are these scary bogeymen, or that we’re like some kinda secret police coming to drag them out of their beds! That couldn’t be further from the truth!” Again, he looked at the crowd and ran a hand over his handsome head of hair.

“Sure, sometimes the Gifted give in to their darker instincts, and use their powers to hurt people, destroy property, or worse. Those people are criminals, and we’re required to take a harder stance with them. But the Hunters are here to help. The idea that we want to wipe out all the Gifted, that’s just insane!” He shook his head and, again, gesticulated with his hands emphatically.

“Pure propaganda! Those people calling themselves Rebels, they’re no better than terrorists! They want you scared, they want you thinking that they’re the only ones who can help “save” you! But that’s just not true.”

Again, the man leaned back in his chair, a motion that the host mimicked. Even the camera pulled back a bit, as if everyone on the crew was trying to lessen their tension. The guest continued to speak.

“What we do, when we find these individuals, is take them to a safe, well-protected, and prepared environment. Somewhere their abilities can be measured, tested under non-threatening conditions, and, only if needed, restrained—so that they don’t have to worry about hurting themselves, or anyone else they care about!”</sub>

On the security camera behind the clerk’s head, a hushed verbal exchange took place. The two customers had split up. One made a loop around the store while the other was hanging back.

The doorbell jingled again. Another young guy walked in—he was wearing a hoodie with no sleeves and the hood up. The clerk wasn’t much for fashion, but thought that was a weird choice. Was the guy hot or cold? Make up your mind already!

“Good evening.” The clerk said half-heartedly, expecting this to be another night-owl nerd. The younger guy didn’t take his hood off, but nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good evening. Slow night?”

Oh, even worse. A customer who actually wanted to make conversation. The clerk gave him a non-committal chuckle and head-nod in response, then pretended to be engrossed in the show again.

<sub>“So if someone is a Gifted, or they suspect one of their friends or family of having these abilities, what should they do?”

“The Hunters can be contacted at any time, anywhere, by calling the Republic’s assigned hotline—can we get that on the screen? It’s on there? Awesome!” An exchange with the off-screen crew, followed by laughter and a sudden “gotcha” look from the guest. “It’s like you read my mind—Oooh, are you Gifted? Uh-oh, I better take you in!” More laughter.

“But seriously! You call that number, tell our operators what’s up—they’re trained to be aware, considerate, and understanding of all these issues we’ve talked about—and our agents will take things from there!”

The guest suddenly stood up, apparently surprising the host, but the camera followed him without missing a beat as he walked across the stage.

“And, just to show you this: The Hunters aren’t trying to, to put it mildly, do away with the Gifted, as so many have accused us of doing. If that was their goal…then they wouldn’t have hired someone like ME!”

The man waved his hands. A bright sphere of light, as if someone were dangling a fluorescent light bulb, took shape in the air above his palms. As the still-unseen crowd ooh’d and ahhh’d, the orb floated to center-stage, then flattened itself and took the shape of a floating ring, like a halo.

“You see, I can only do this because the Hunters allowed me...To get the training and discipline I needed to be of use to people! Now, instead of accidentally blinding somebody, I can use my powers for something better!” The light ring wobbled over to the host and settled down just over his toupe, again accompanied to the laugh track. “Like showing them what an angel YOU are!”

Amidst clapping from the host and crew, it was declared that the guest would stay on the show to meet the other people coming on that night, right after a commercial break…</sub>

The clerk looked up to see that the younger guy had taken the hint and moved along. But then when he glanced down the aisles, he didn’t see the other two. Had they left already? He didn’t hear the doorbell…

If he’d been looking at the cameras, he’d have seen them crouched down at an angle behind the shelves—one ready to rush the counter, and one lifting his shirt before reaching down his baggy pants. A baseball bat, tucked along the side of his body, found its way to his hands.

And if the clerk had really been paying attention to the cameras, the way the third guy in the back of the store was, he might’ve seen the young man slip a mask over his face and let the hood fall.

The game finally connected! As prompts and sounds filtered over his headset, the clerk reached for his controller and turned—

“OPEN THE REGISTER!”

The one with the bat ran and jumped over the divider between the counter and the store, slamming the weapon against the polished wood surface for intimidation. The other one ran up in front of the clerk and the checkout station, pulling a crumpled trash back out from under his shirt.

“W-wha—wait—”

“I SAID OPEN IT!” The clerk eyed the two of them nervously, but shrank back as the first man raised the bat again. “And gimme yo’ KEYS!”

Then a black whip wrapped around the weapon and yanked it over the perp’s shoulder, dragging him with it. His back hit the counter as the man yelped in surprise, and his partner turned with a gasp.

“Bruh, the batting cages are on the other side of town.” The third young man stood with one arm outstretched, holding the whip…which was wrapped around his forearm and rooted there, like it’d grown out of him as individual threads and been wound together.

“Let ‘im go!” The second thief dropped the bag and went for a football tackle. The masked guy brought his other arm up and made a weird movement—like some kinda kung-fooey martial art, the limb undulated, spinning at the wrist, as his fingers twitched into a shape like some kinda anime-character making the fox ears.

FWIP!

Another whip hit the charging thief in the face, and then stuck. It wasn’t a whip, it was some kind of net, or…a web? He fell to one side, crashing into a shelf full of robot vacuum cleaners, while trying to pull the strange substance off his face. The guy in the sleeveless sweater jumped forward and yanked on both his lines at the same time, pulling the two would-be-robbers together on the open floor in front of the register. The one with the bat let go of the weapon and jumped up to take a swing at the web-spinner.

“Guh-gi-g-gifted?!” The clerk stumbled back against the wall—just as the door banged open and the portly, half-asleep manager stumbled out.

“We’re being robbed!? Call the police!” he yelled as the guy with the webs ducked and danced away from the thug’s wild swings. “No! The HUNTERS! One of those monsters is tryin’ to kill us!”

“Hey, whoa, I’m not like that!” The Gifted raised his hands, which still had a few strands of black webbing dangling from them. He pointed at the clerk. “I mean, what he said, yeah, but not—”

The thief punched him in the gut, then shoved him into a rack of magazines and tech manuals. As the protesting hero went down in a loud clatter and a cloud of pages, the thwarted crook ran for the doors—only to be caught at the legs just before he could reach it. As the Gifted yanked this new whip with both hands the other man’s head pitched forward, smacking the thick glass hard enough to crack it and then bumping the metal handle on the way down for good measure.

“Hey, leave that guy alone, you freak!” screamed the manager, already calling the emergency number from a cell phone.

“Your concern is appreciated, sir, but I can handle it!” shouted back the Gifted as he reeled in his catch.

“You’re the freak!”

“Oh. Well no worries either way, I’m just about done here!” The man dragged the injured attacker back towards his companion, who had only just gotten the webbing off his face. Then the masked guy made more weird motions with his hands. The webs coming out of his arms—like watching a can of silly string explode—formed a net he threw over both of the thieves, and then he tied the ends shut and yanked them tight. Both men yelped as they were drawn together way too close for platonic comfort.

“I, I already h-hit the silent alarm!” the clerk was telling his boss, although whether he was trying to help the Gifted or not was up for debate. The man dusted his hands off and stood with his feet apart as he put both fists akimbo.

“There, gentlemen! As you can see, I’m not with the thieves! I’m only here to help! Just call me—” A cordless computer mouse flew over the man’s head as he ducked, both hands covering his mask.

“Don’t you touch us, ya mutated piece of trash!” The manager shook a fat fist as his red face jiggled.

“Right, I can see you’re stressed! The police will handle things from here!” The Gifted ran for the door, pushing through it and starting to sprint—then he turned and came back. From inside they watched him shake his arm for a moment. Then he sprayed a thin layer of black goop over the crack in the glass. “A little extra, free of charge!”

Then he sprinted off into the night, as flashing lights in the distance drew closer…

---

PRESENT

[ - ]

B E N

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Ben woke up the next day—morning was long past—to his phone trying to buzz itself off the side of his nightstand. When he picked it up, he saw several unread texts from her...and closed them. He yawned, stretched—then winced as the tender spot where he’d been gutpunched protested the movement. As he threw off the blankets and headed for the bathroom, he sighed.

Would she have called me a freak too? Or a monster? he wondered to himself. But he shook his head. Personal praise, fame, those weren’t the reasons he put himself out there night after night. He just wanted to help.

Although it would help him if people weren’t so gung-ho to hate on Gifted. How’d that guy think he was the thief!? He wasn’t swinging a bat around—

But you were wearing a mask, genius. Ah. Right. Well…unfortunately, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But, he definitely needed to figure out some way to not scare the people he wanted to save. It was only natural that they’d be wary of the Gifted, the way things were nowadays…and his powers probably didn’t do his first impressions any favors. How many people would honestly be hyped to see giant, people-snagging spiderwebs?

Better that I do the right thing and get hated for it, than do the wrong thing and be loved for it. Right, Grandpa? Besides, in today’s world, you could do nothing at all and still get hate easily enough. Just ask those people the Hunters were always catching. He checked his phone again while he did his business.

Almost as if it were reading his mind (hell, with as much data as they gathered, maybe it could!), his social media feed was full of news about the “prison camp” that’d been set up less than fifty miles outside of the city limits. People who sympathized with “The Rebels,” (which struck Ben as incredibly stupid, as you were practically asking for police to come knocking at your door) and people who were huddling under the long arm of the Republic for safety (equally stupid, because the government wouldn’t care whether the Gifted liked them or not) were in a constant and vicious flame battle in every comment on every article or photo.

He cleaned, shaved, all that usual morning routine stuff and threw on some workout clothes. He had the day off from work—hence why he’d been out all night—so he decided a nice jog in the park might help work out the soreness…

The Gifted (Reborn)

Ben "Blackweb" Petersen

B E N

---

Basic Information

---

| Name |

Benjamin Davis Petersen

| Code Name |

Blackweb

| Date of Birth |

24

| Gender |

Male, He/Him

| Sexuality |

Straight

| Relationship Status |

Recently Single

| Race |

Gifted

| Gifted Class |

Originally classed as Delta, recently upgraded to Beta

| Allegiance |

Independent

| In-Depth Appearance |

At 6'2" and 180 pounds, Ben has a healthy and athletic build. He tends to dress rather plainly most of the time, no high-fashion brands and no especially striking fashion sense. Give him a plain colored tee and a pair of jeans that fit well, and he'll blend into almost any crowd.

He can appear nervous or fidgety, constantly looking around his environment as if he expects something to happen at any given time. When he does manage to focus, his eye contact can be somewhat disturbing to those who aren't used to his behaviors. He tends to slouch slightly, but when he's on the move he looks straight ahead at his destination and walks with a long, rapid gait.

But this changes when he puts on the mask.

When doing "his civic duty," as he calls it, Ben dons a sleeveless gray, tech-wear style hoodie with a fishmouth collar; a pair of urban camo-patterned cargo shorts, and solid black basketball sneakers. He also puts on a 3D printed mask, designed with free cosplay tutorials from the internet. It bears a striking resemblance to Japanese style Tokusatsu heroes, with a spider theme---two huge eyes dominate the faceplate while six smaller ones form a pattern across the sides and forehead, and the spider's fangs frame the bottom half of his face, which is hidden by a sliding cover.

When he's "in uniform," Ben moves with freedom, grace, and daredevil confidence. Letting out a loud whoop as he sails between rooftops, he presents a striking contrast to his everyday life.

---

---

Who Am I?

| Personality |

♦ Self-Sacrificing ♦ Martyr Complex ♦ Considerate ♦ Bottled Up ♦

Ben sees events that happen around him through a lens of self-responsibility. If something terrible happens around him, his only choice is to do everything in his power to help. Having the abilities that he does, to him, means that he has more means to help others than normal people would---and thus he is obligated to do more than normal people can. As a result, he pushes back his own resentments and tries to suppress or hide all of his own problems. Rather than ask "why me, universe?" he instead tries to ask, "Why not me? Better me than them." whenever misfortune strikes.

As a result, he has a tendency to overwork himself and try to take on too many burdens at once. He is pulled taut in too many directions, and sometimes it seems like the only way he'd be satisfied with his life is by throwing it away for the sake of someone else. He doesn't open up to most people, and sometimes his insistence on "helping" can come across as unnecessary coddling, or a subtle backhanded put-down towards those who "can't do what he can." In a strange, self-contradictory way, his meek, other-serving nature comes from being convinced that he is held to higher expectations than others as a Gifted.

| Likes & Dislikes |

✔

• Shades of blue
• Homemade burgers
• Playing the guitar
• Natural blondes
• Parkour

✘

• Any news station
• Spicy food (geographic tongue)
• Criminal Gifted
• Loud bass music
• The countryside

Abilities and Skills

Vellus hair is short, thin, light-colored, and barely noticeable hair that develops on most of a human’s body during childhood. However, Ben's vellus follicles instead work like miniature spinnerets all over his body to produce a black, supernaturally resilient and strong webbing. Ben has learned how to quickly braid or otherwise shape these webs, and how to "fire" them from his body, in order to produce a number of grapple lines, woven nets, and even "braces" tied around his body for protection.

• Web Types - Ben has learned how to produce webs with different qualities, though these sometimes depend on his diet and tend to run out faster than the "default."
  • Default Web - Proportionally the same as spider silk produced at the thickness of human hair, meaning that it is roughly 20 times stronger, more elastic, etc. Depending on how it's woven together it could even surpass that. It's safe to his webs would be capable of supporting many thousands of pounds...so long as whatever they were anchored to could also hold that much weight. Certainly not Ben's shoulder sockets.
  • Adhesive Web - Web produced in a liquid, glue like form. Ben can use this web in small globs at a time, allowing him to stick to surfaces, or coat another web type in order to catch targets like flies. However, this web can't be sprayed as far as other types, and rapidly dries to the point of peeling and flaking off once exposed to the air.
  • Elastic Web - Webs that have much less tensile strength (as in, they can be cut more easily) in exchange for stretching a great deal more and still popping back to their original shape/size. Ben uses these to launch himself like a slingshot, or quickly weave a net that can catch a thrown object and return it to sender with a little extra. This web can shoot the furthest, but it doesn't make for a good grapple line/swing line because applying force to it just causes it to stretch more.
  • Contracting Web - Webs that start off soft and fluffy like cotton string, but rapidly shrink down to something more like hard rubber, losing well over half their length in the process. The reaction seems sort of similar to muscle fiber contractions, triggered by the moment the web is "cut off" from the spinneret pore and its cells start to "die." As a result, Ben can shoot this web to an anchor point and then allow the contraction to "pull" him like a motorized grapple-gun. Once contracted, however, the web looses all elasticity and rapidly dries out, meaning it's essentially single use per shot.
  • Coating Web - Another liquid type like the adhesive, but also a contracting type in a sense. Ben can spray large globs of this fluid at one time, though it doesn't go far and can't be woven into anything. Like sealing foam, this web rapidly hardens into a crusty shell. In liquid form it's like a thick, sludgy mud, but after hardening is more comparable to epoxy rather than concrete. Unlike his other webs, it's water soluble and gets soft again when wet.
  • Wire Web - A web that shoots a middling distance, not as long as the default or elastic but further than the fluids. However, this web has been hardened to the point it behaves like a steel wire. It can't stretch, and doesn't bend or twist very well (especially after being cut off from his body, like the contracting type) and also does not stick well without help from the adhesive. It is, however, very similar in behavior to piano wire. This makes it Ben's only webbing type that has a direct offensive use besides swinging his body around: homemade razorwire, garrotes, and more.
• Web Braces - Ben uses the webbing to wrap padding around his joints, and sometimes to even make a full vest over his torso or wrappings around his legs. By "holding himself together" in such a way, both protecting and reinforcing himself, he can deliver much harder strikes than a normal human without injury. It also acts like Kevlar, binding fast moving objects that would otherwise cut or pierce him. It's more "bullet resistant" than it is "bullet proof," but it's definitely better than nothing!
• Web Whips - Aside from just flinging himself at people or throwing objects around, Ben's gotten pretty good at manipulating the midphalangeal webs of his hands into thicker braids that can be used like whips. Up to four whips---one for each finger, excluding the thumbs---can be created with each hand, and he manipulates them with a level of dexterity that would make a puppeteer jealous. Their knotted lengths inflict damage much like a flog.

| History |

"These were already antiques when I was a kid, sonny. They don't even make 'em no more...Although I guess now they'd be too boring, compared to reality, huh?"

Ben's grandfather was a Delta-level Gifted who managed to pass as a normal human being. But for family friends and neighbors, he was always willing to put his powers to work to make their lives easier. When young Ben asked why he was like this, compared to all the other Gifted who seemed to always be cowering or fighting for their lives, his grandfather took him up to the attic and showed him an old chest full of colorful papers and books. Some of them were literally a hundred years old or more---a collection that must've spanned most of his grandfather's life.

The man spent hours telling his grandson about those comics, and what the stories and characters were supposed to mean. What they were supposed to represent. Not government sponsored test-tube babies (although there was plenty of that in the plotlines). Not environmental eco-warriors (although there were a few authors that made the characters get plenty preachy). And definitely not any new, superior species of humanity (only the villains took that point of view). Ben began to see his grandfather as a real-life superhero.

Unfortunately, when Ben's own powers began to manifest, his parents acted as if they blamed his grandfather for it. As if the same genes weren't in them too. The family grew distant, and Ben became resentful of having to hide his own powers when there were so many opportunities to help people in need. His parents became more strict and controlling, limiting the boy until it almost seemed like he was permanently grounded. Of course, they had reason to fear---any night he was out alone by himself was a night he risked running into the Hunters---but for some reason they felt the only way they could get their points across was to have shouting matches in the living room. Ben eventually settled for just being extraordinarily helpful, polite, and kind to everyone he could, to try and make the world a better place one small step at a time...even if he could've done more, was it really worth the risks his parents were always talking about?

His grandfather got older. The man's health got worse. Ben's own life had gotten busy---he had to keep his powers a secret while going to school, trying to get a job, all that good stuff---and he wasn't able to visit the old man as much as he wanted to. One night, his grandfather called him, in a weak, shaky voice, to tell him that he wasn't doing very well. That he thought the end was near. Ben looked out the window at the city's twinkling night time skyline, and could already hear the verbal reaming he'd get from his parents if he went out, even though by this point he had his own car.

He told his grandfather that he would visit first thing in the morning, and that he loved him. They never got to speak to each other again.

Sitting at the old man's graveside, Ben listened to the hushed whispers of those who had known his grandfather as a younger man. How he'd used his powers to help wherever and whoever he could, regardless of the dangers of being exposed. Regardless of the prejudice normal humans had toward the Gifted. Regardless of the fact that his powers weren't, really, all that "powerful" to begin with.

Ben decided he would no longer let his life be ruled by fear. No more curfews. To hell with hiding his powers. If he could've been brave enough to run out and help anyone else, no questions asked, no reward necessary...then maybe he would've been brave enough to break curfew and go see an old man who was dying all alone.

Hunters and Rebels alike started to receive reports of a semi-costumed Gifted in the city. The individual seemed to show up at petty convenience store robberies, or at the site of car wrecks, and even occasionally at the scene of a Gifted-involved crime. People started calling him "Blackweb" because of all the...well, weird black webs he left dangling around. No one could figure out who he was with. What side he was on. Or who he was. Why he was doing these things.

Ben wasn't sure he needed a reason, anymore. He just felt that he had...a responsibility.

| Family |

Both Parents still living, both Gifted Carriers. One sister, aged 18, non-gifted. One paternal uncle, also Delta level Gifted, supposedly living in hiding---hasn't been seen in years, no contact with the family.

| Strengths |

• Free Runner - Athletic, flexible, energetic, and getting more well-practiced every day on "the job."
• Heart of Gold - Always willing to help, speaks kindly---well, unless he's fighting, maybe---generous giver of both time and effort.
• Analytical Mind - Always watching, always making notes, always thinking about the solution to the next problem.

| Weaknesses |

• Paying Attention to Everything - Misses the trees for the forest, sometimes, and has trouble committing to a single task. Wants to be everywhere at once.
• Rebellious Streak - Ever since his grandfather's death, he's grown more and more resentful and unruly towards strict rules and regulations like the ones his parents used to keep him under. He doesn't accept others in a leadership position over him very well.
• Dulcinea Effect - May very well be willing to sacrifice everything for a perfect stranger he met three minutes ago, if he feels that's what "a hero" would do.

---

---

The Other

| Theme Song |

When I Swing By – Miracle of Sound
_{”Wisdom is earned
In the dark I keep believing
A fallen guide can be like losing part of you ”}

| Extra Information |

Ben's last relationship was actually quite positive by all accounts. However, once he made the decision to become a vigilante, he used his grandfather's death as a plausible cause of a "severe mental breakdown" in order to make his girlfriend believe that was the reason for their breakup. She didn't know he was a Gifted, and thus he saw her not only as an innocent bystander that he didn't want to be involved with his new lifestyle, but also as a potential risk. He still doesn't know, to this day, whether she would've turned him in to the Hunters if he revealed himself. The accumulated guilt of all this weighs heavily on him even though he enjoys his newfound freedom far more than he did his old, comfortable life.

The Gifted (Reborn)

@Zeroth love it! Great job! He's approved!

@Ace of flames01

Thank you! So, is it a requirement that characters start inside the prison camp/rebel base areas? Will the RP as a whole be focused there?

The Gifted (Reborn)

@Ace of flames01 Here's the rough draft of the CS, let me know if anything needs to be tweaked, clarified, etc!

THE NEW FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SUPERHERO

B E N

---

Basic Information

---

| Name |

Benjamin Davis Petersen

| Code Name |

Blackweb

| Date of Birth |

24

| Gender |

Male, He/Him

| Sexuality |

Straight

| Relationship Status |

Recently Single

| Race |

Gifted

| Gifted Class |

Originally classed as Delta, recently upgraded to Beta

| Allegiance |

Independent

| In-Depth Appearance |

At 6'2" and 180 pounds, Ben has a healthy and athletic build. He tends to dress rather plainly most of the time, no high-fashion brands and no especially striking fashion sense. Give him a plain colored tee and a pair of jeans that fit well, and he'll blend into almost any crowd.

He can appear nervous or fidgety, constantly looking around his environment as if he expects something to happen at any given time. When he does manage to focus, his eye contact can be somewhat disturbing to those who aren't used to his behaviors. He tends to slouch slightly, but when he's on the move he looks straight ahead at his destination and walks with a long, rapid gait.

But this changes when he puts on the mask.

When doing "his civic duty," as he calls it, Ben dons a sleeveless gray, tech-wear style hoodie with a fishmouth collar; a pair of urban camo-patterned cargo shorts, and solid black basketball sneakers. He also puts on a 3D printed mask, designed with free cosplay tutorials from the internet. It bears a striking resemblance to Japanese style Tokusatsu heroes, with a spider theme---two huge eyes dominate the faceplate while six smaller ones form a pattern across the sides and forehead, and the spider's fangs frame the bottom half of his face, which is hidden by a sliding cover.

When he's "in uniform," Ben moves with freedom, grace, and daredevil confidence. Letting out a loud whoop as he sails between rooftops, he presents a striking contrast to his everyday life.

---

---

Who Am I?

| Personality |

♦ Self-Sacrificing ♦ Martyr Complex ♦ Considerate ♦ Bottled Up ♦

Ben sees events that happen around him through a lens of self-responsibility. If something terrible happens around him, his only choice is to do everything in his power to help. Having the abilities that he does, to him, means that he has more means to help others than normal people would---and thus he is obligated to do more than normal people can. As a result, he pushes back his own resentments and tries to suppress or hide all of his own problems. Rather than ask "why me, universe?" he instead tries to ask, "Why not me? Better me than them." whenever misfortune strikes.

As a result, he has a tendency to overwork himself and try to take on too many burdens at once. He is pulled taut in too many directions, and sometimes it seems like the only way he'd be satisfied with his life is by throwing it away for the sake of someone else. He doesn't open up to most people, and sometimes his insistence on "helping" can come across as unnecessary coddling, or a subtle backhanded put-down towards those who "can't do what he can." In a strange, self-contradictory way, his meek, other-serving nature comes from being convinced that he is held to higher expectations than others as a Gifted.

| Likes & Dislikes |

✔

• Shades of blue
• Homemade burgers
• Playing the guitar
• Natural blondes
• Parkour

✘

• Any news station
• Spicy food (geographic tongue)
• Criminal Gifted
• Loud bass music
• The countryside

Abilities and Skills

Vellus hair is short, thin, light-colored, and barely noticeable hair that develops on most of a human’s body during childhood. However, Ben's vellus follicles instead work like miniature spinnerets all over his body to produce a black, supernaturally resilient and strong webbing. Ben has learned how to quickly braid or otherwise shape these webs, and how to "fire" them from his body, in order to produce a number of grapple lines, woven nets, and even "braces" tied around his body for protection.

• Web Types - Ben has learned how to produce webs with different qualities, though these sometimes depend on his diet and tend to run out faster than the "default."
  • Default Web - Proportionally the same as spider silk produced at the thickness of human hair, meaning that it is roughly 20 times stronger, more elastic, etc. Depending on how it's woven together it could even surpass that. It's safe to his webs would be capable of supporting many thousands of pounds...so long as whatever they were anchored to could also hold that much weight. Certainly not Ben's shoulder sockets.
  • Adhesive Web - Web produced in a liquid, glue like form. Ben can use this web in small globs at a time, allowing him to stick to surfaces, or coat another web type in order to catch targets like flies. However, this web can't be sprayed as far as other types, and rapidly dries to the point of peeling and flaking off once exposed to the air.
  • Elastic Web - Webs that have much less tensile strength (as in, they can be cut more easily) in exchange for stretching a great deal more and still popping back to their original shape/size. Ben uses these to launch himself like a slingshot, or quickly weave a net that can catch a thrown object and return it to sender with a little extra. This web can shoot the furthest, but it doesn't make for a good grapple line/swing line because applying force to it just causes it to stretch more.
  • Contracting Web - Webs that start off soft and fluffy like cotton string, but rapidly shrink down to something more like hard rubber, losing well over half their length in the process. The reaction seems sort of similar to muscle fiber contractions, triggered by the moment the web is "cut off" from the spinneret pore and its cells start to "die." As a result, Ben can shoot this web to an anchor point and then allow the contraction to "pull" him like a motorized grapple-gun. Once contracted, however, the web looses all elasticity and rapidly dries out, meaning it's essentially single use per shot.
  • Coating Web - Another liquid type like the adhesive, but also a contracting type in a sense. Ben can spray large globs of this fluid at one time, though it doesn't go far and can't be woven into anything. Like sealing foam, this web rapidly hardens into a crusty shell. In liquid form it's like a thick, sludgy mud, but after hardening is more comparable to epoxy rather than concrete. Unlike his other webs, it's water soluble and gets soft again when wet.
  • Wire Web - A web that shoots a middling distance, not as long as the default or elastic but further than the fluids. However, this web has been hardened to the point it behaves like a steel wire. It can't stretch, and doesn't bend or twist very well (especially after being cut off from his body, like the contracting type) and also does not stick well without help from the adhesive. It is, however, very similar in behavior to piano wire. This makes it Ben's only webbing type that has a direct offensive use besides swinging his body around: homemade razorwire, garrotes, and more.
• Web Braces - Ben uses the webbing to wrap padding around his joints, and sometimes to even make a full vest over his torso or wrappings around his legs. By "holding himself together" in such a way, both protecting and reinforcing himself, he can deliver much harder strikes than a normal human without injury. It also acts like Kevlar, binding fast moving objects that would otherwise cut or pierce him. It's more "bullet resistant" than it is "bullet proof," but it's definitely better than nothing!
• Web Whips - Aside from just flinging himself at people or throwing objects around, Ben's gotten pretty good at manipulating the midphalangeal webs of his hands into thicker braids that can be used like whips. Up to four whips---one for each finger, excluding the thumbs---can be created with each hand, and he manipulates them with a level of dexterity that would make a puppeteer jealous. Their knotted lengths inflict damage much like a flog.

| History |

"These were already antiques when I was a kid, sonny. They don't even make 'em no more...Although I guess now they'd be too boring, compared to reality, huh?"

Ben's grandfather was a Delta-level Gifted who managed to pass as a normal human being. But for family friends and neighbors, he was always willing to put his powers to work to make their lives easier. When young Ben asked why he was like this, compared to all the other Gifted who seemed to always be cowering or fighting for their lives, his grandfather took him up to the attic and showed him an old chest full of colorful papers and books. Some of them were literally a hundred years old or more---a collection that must've spanned most of his grandfather's life.

The man spent hours telling his grandson about those comics, and what the stories and characters were supposed to mean. What they were supposed to represent. Not government sponsored test-tube babies (although there was plenty of that in the plotlines). Not environmental eco-warriors (although there were a few authors that made the characters get plenty preachy). And definitely not any new, superior species of humanity (only the villains took that point of view). Ben began to see his grandfather as a real-life superhero.

Unfortunately, when Ben's own powers began to manifest, his parents acted as if they blamed his grandfather for it. As if the same genes weren't in them too. The family grew distant, and Ben became resentful of having to hide his own powers when there were so many opportunities to help people in need. His parents became more strict and controlling, limiting the boy until it almost seemed like he was permanently grounded. Of course, they had reason to fear---any night he was out alone by himself was a night he risked running into the Hunters---but for some reason they felt the only way they could get their points across was to have shouting matches in the living room. Ben eventually settled for just being extraordinarily helpful, polite, and kind to everyone he could, to try and make the world a better place one small step at a time...even if he could've done more, was it really worth the risks his parents were always talking about?

His grandfather got older. The man's health got worse. Ben's own life had gotten busy---he had to keep his powers a secret while going to school, trying to get a job, all that good stuff---and he wasn't able to visit the old man as much as he wanted to. One night, his grandfather called him, in a weak, shaky voice, to tell him that he wasn't doing very well. That he thought the end was near. Ben looked out the window at the city's twinkling night time skyline, and could already hear the verbal reaming he'd get from his parents if he went out, even though by this point he had his own car.

He told his grandfather that he would visit first thing in the morning, and that he loved him. They never got to speak to each other again.

Sitting at the old man's graveside, Ben listened to the hushed whispers of those who had known his grandfather as a younger man. How he'd used his powers to help wherever and whoever he could, regardless of the dangers of being exposed. Regardless of the prejudice normal humans had toward the Gifted. Regardless of the fact that his powers weren't, really, all that "powerful" to begin with.

Ben decided he would no longer let his life be ruled by fear. No more curfews. To hell with hiding his powers. If he could've been brave enough to run out and help anyone else, no questions asked, no reward necessary...then maybe he would've been brave enough to break curfew and go see an old man who was dying all alone.

Hunters and Rebels alike started to receive reports of a semi-costumed Gifted in the city. The individual seemed to show up at petty convenience store robberies, or at the site of car wrecks, and even occasionally at the scene of a Gifted-involved crime. People started calling him "Blackweb" because of all the...well, weird black webs he left dangling around. No one could figure out who he was with. What side he was on. Or who he was. Why he was doing these things.

Ben wasn't sure he needed a reason, anymore. He just felt that he had...a responsibility.

| Family |

Both Parents still living, both Gifted Carriers. One sister, aged 18, non-gifted. One paternal uncle, also Delta level Gifted, supposedly living in hiding---hasn't been seen in years, no contact with the family.

| Strengths |

• Free Runner - Athletic, flexible, energetic, and getting more well-practiced every day on "the job."
• Heart of Gold - Always willing to help, speaks kindly---well, unless he's fighting, maybe---generous giver of both time and effort.
• Analytical Mind - Always watching, always making notes, always thinking about the solution to the next problem.

| Weaknesses |

• Paying Attention to Everything - Misses the trees for the forest, sometimes, and has trouble committing to a single task. Wants to be everywhere at once.
• Rebellious Streak - Ever since his grandfather's death, he's grown more and more resentful and unruly towards strict rules and regulations like the ones his parents used to keep him under. He doesn't accept others in a leadership position over him very well.
• Dulcinea Effect - May very well be willing to sacrifice everything for a perfect stranger he met three minutes ago, if he feels that's what "a hero" would do.

---

---

The Other

| Theme Song |

When I Swing By – Miracle of Sound
_{”Wisdom is earned
In the dark I keep believing
A fallen guide can be like losing part of you ”}

| Extra Information |

Ben's last relationship was actually quite positive by all accounts. However, once he made the decision to become a vigilante, he used his grandfather's death as a plausible cause of a "severe mental breakdown" in order to make his girlfriend believe that was the reason for their breakup. She didn't know he was a Gifted, and thus he saw her not only as an innocent bystander that he didn't want to be involved with his new lifestyle, but also as a potential risk. He still doesn't know, to this day, whether she would've turned him in to the Hunters if he revealed himself. The accumulated guilt of all this weighs heavily on him even though he enjoys his newfound freedom far more than he did his old, comfortable life.