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[DeLarge]

The Throwaways

WARNING: THIS RP WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE AND SEX, AND IS THEREFORE DEFINITELY NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ANY OF THE ABOVE, TURN AWAY NOW. IF NOT, COME ON IN!

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men." - Lord Acton, 1887

-Twenty-one years ago-

Fluorescent strip lights hummed, suspended from the high, vaulted ceilings of the long, narrow underground room, casting their pale, sickly light over the wooden workbenches and the equipment scattered across them. Large glass cases filled with dark, slowly-shifting shapes lined one wall, and a thin, hunched man with a dirty white lab coat draped over his wizened frame shuffled along the rows of cases, looking carefully into each one as he passed, scribbling rough notes on the battered clipboard in his hand.

"No change," he whispered, his voice hoarse, and tinged with disappointment. He looked deep into one of the cases, with a yellowing label in the corner which read "Subect #003", and softly tapped his finger against the glass. The shape inside stirred, moving towards the front of the case, and pressed itself up against the glass.

It was a small, male child, seemingly no older than eighteen months, now pressing his hand against the glass and blinking his large blue eyes at the old man. The old man's narrow mouth curled up into a smile, and he pressed his index finger against the glass, where the child's hand was pressed on the other side.

Suddenly, the door to the room exploded open, and two metal canisters flew in high arcs through the air and clattered to the ground, smoke gushing from them and engulfing the old man. He choked on the acrid smoke and blinked as he saw bright red beams shining through the gloom, the ends dancing around his chest.

"Step away from the case!" came a booming voice, echoing around the room, but the old man was disoriented and confused, and he stuck to the spot in his panic. He heard more shouts, then sound exploded in his ears, and his chest exploded where the lasers had been aimed. He fell slowly to his knees, then slumped to the ground, blood pumping from the chest wound.

"Target down, we have secured the hostages!" were the very last words the old man heard as darkness clouded over everything...

-Eleven years ago-

"You're such a freak," spat the unusually muscular young man, wiping the smear of blood off his knuckles as he stood over his smaller, weaker classmate, who had sagged to his knees under the weight of the first punch. Blood was dribbling from his nose and top lip in a steady flow, and he could feel the place where a bruise was bound to form around the bridge of his nose. He blinked to hold back the hot tears he could feel welling up in his eyes and struggled slowly to his feet, blocking out the jeers and insults of the crowd that was surrounding the fight.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he murmured, flecks of blood spraying to the floor as he spoke, "Please, just leave me alone!"

"What the ****, Slate? Are you crying?" asked the bully, barely stifling his laughter and leaning back on the metal school gate, "Slate's a little *****, everyone!"

The crowd started laughing and jeering louder, and the twelve-year-old felt his anger building inside him, but unlike all the other times this had happened it seemed like something tangible. His breathing grew heavier, and he turned, his whole body trembling, to face the bully. The school gate which he was leaning on was rattling, and the bully moved away from it, advancing slowly on the angry young boy.

"Now you're spazzing out on us? What next, are you gonna piss your pants?" he snarled, and at that moment the smaller boy flung his hand out, and the metal gate swung open violently, slamming into the bully's back and sending him to the floor with a thud. A moment later, he pushed himself to his feet, his face now bleeding more profusely than his victim's, pure anger etched across his face.

"You're ******* dead!" he scowled, but then he noticed the weaker boy slumped back down on his knees, still trembling, and decided this particular victim wasn't worth his time, and walked away, but not before spitting a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the boy's back.

"Asshole."

-Five years ago-

The alarm screeched, echoing around the marble lobby of the bank. The group of men in black combat gear hefted sports bags full of money out of the vault, assault rifles slung around their shoulders. Bank customers were lying on the floor, covering their heads with their arms and shaking, some of them crying in fear, hoping not to be shot like the man who had tried to stand up to the robbers a few moments ago.

Suddenly, the glass doors of the bank exploded inwards, sending shattered glass flying across the lobby, and a dark-clad figure swooped in through the gap where the doors had just been, landing on the floor in front of the lead robber. He was a tall, almost unnaturally muscular man dressed from his neck to his feet in a thick black leather jumpsuit, with a black mask over his eyes.

"What the **** is this?" spat the lead robber, "A ******* superhero?"

"You're damn right, asshole," replied the newcomer, slamming his hand into the criminal's chest and sending him flying across the lobby, slamming hard into the wall with a loud crack, and slumping to the floor. The rest of the robber watched this, shocked, and began firing their assault rifles at him. The man moved so fast all that could be seen of him was a black blur, dodging the bullets and attacking the robbers in quick succession, knocking them all to the floor and disarming them. The hostages began to shakily get to their feet, in awe of the man who now stood in front of the pile of money.

"Who...who are you?" asked the man closest to him.

"I am The Patriot!" he boomed, standing tall, hands on hips.

"You're...a superhero?"

"The first of many, ma'am. The first of many," he said with a smile as cameras flashed from outside the bank.

-Six weeks ago-

"The country is in a state of panic," said the reporter, "The Big Five, those superheroes we have all known, respect and loved for the past five years, have seemingly turned on the country they supposedly protect. Many people have been killed in what is now being called "The Rebellion", there has been an extensive amount of property damage and people are living in fear. It is expected that the President will be forced to hand power over to The Patriot, who is now heralding himself as the One True Leader of America..."

The reporter was cut off mid-sentence by an enormous fist slamming down on top of the television, crushing it almost flat.

"Fuckin' news!" growled the owner of the large fist, a similarly large man, covered in rippling muscles and a suit of sleeveless red armour, "Makin' out like we're the bad guys just for takin' what we deserve!"

"Well...we are the bad guys now, Freight Train," said a slender, blue-haired woman as she slinked past.

"Hydro-Girl's right," said a young man crouched on an armchair in the corner of the hotel room, "By all definitions of the words, we are the bad guys."

"And don't you just ******* love it?" said The Patriot, a wide grin across his face and a devilish glint in his eyes.

-Two weeks ago-

The young man's boots slapped on the hard concrete as he ran full pelt across the rooftop, breathing hard as he moved. A few feet behind him, a man in a grey suit and holding a handgun ran at a similar speed, although his movement was somewhat hindered by the nature of his clothes.

Leaping over the gap between the building he was on and the next one, the young man rolled as he landed and continued to run, his arms and legs pumping. The suited man followed him over the gap and landed harder, skidding a few feet across the ground as he landed, before getting up and continuing his pursuit, only stopping to aim and squeeze off a few shots at the young man.

Concrete exploded by his head as the bullets just missed, and he reached out as he ran, spotting a metal pipe lying on the ground, which flew into his hand as he ran. He ducked behind an air-conditioning unit on top of the building, wielding the pipe like a club, and swung out as the suited man rounded the corner, slamming the pipe into his chest and knocking him to the floor.

"Stay away from me!" he panted as he stood over the suited man, who lay on his back gasping for air, his gun now just out of reach. The young man flicked his hand out, and the gun skittered away across the rooftop. He turned to walk away and leave the suited man where he was, when something stung his neck. He reached his hand up and found a small plastic dart stuck in his neck. He yanked it out, but it had already deposited it's payload into his bloodstream.

"Oh ****..." he murmured as he lost consciousness, dropping to the floor hard, just making out the two suited men stepping into his vision as he blacked out.

---

We live in a world where superheroes are very much real. America was protected by the Big Five, five of the most powerful supers in the world: The Patriot, Starlighter, Hydro-Girl, Freight Train and Oracle. That is, until they went rogue and began attacking innocent Americans, and using their powers for their own personal gain.

But this is not their story. At least, not yet.

Twenty-one years ago, Special Forces stormed an underground research lab where an informant claimed experiments were being carried out on children. This information was proved true, the scientist involved in these experiments was killed in the operation, and all twelve children were recovered. The nature of these experiments was unknown, but the children were both unharmed and completely healthy.

Unfortunately, their parentage could not be ascertained, and thus they were all relocated to an orphanage run by a woman named Alexandra Foster. In the following years, some were re-homed, but others remained in the orphanage until they were old enough to move out and find their own ways in life. For all intents and purposes, their upbringing was normal enough, except for one thing.

When each of the children reached puberty, they manifested strange abilities. For example, Subject #003, real name Jonathan Slate, developed the ability to control magnetic fields with his mind, and Subject #009, real name Katherine Bell, manifested the ability to pass through solid objects. For the most part, they managed to keep their abilities secret, but in the past twelve months they have been disappearing without explanation, abducted by men in grey suits.

This is their story.

---

Welcome to The Throwaways, a brand new original superhero story. There are a number of mysteries to be solved in this RP, and answers will come steadily throughout. However, you should have everything you need to know thus far, aside from the sign-up, which is here:

Subject Number: (between #002 and #012, excluding #003 and #009)
Real Name:
Codename: (this will not be used at first, but it is important for later in the RP. Make sure it is relevant to your abilities)
Age: (this will be either 22 or 23, sorry for the limitation but it is important for the story)
Appearance: (as with all my RPs, a picture or a detailed description is great, both is fantastic)
Personality:
Powers/Abilities: (make this reasonable - think X-Men, anyone that I consider to be overpowered will not get in. Also consider that, while we've had these abilities for 10 years or so, we've never received and formal training, so you won't be very good with your powers)
Writing Snippet: (write a short piece describing how your powers emerged - see my "Eleven years ago" section for a guideline)
Other Skills: (can you fight? Pick locks? Anything helpful that is not a facet of your powers will work here)

I will post my character sheet once I've seen some interest in this, either here or in the Backstage thread which I will post momentarily. If you have any questions, comments or queries then don't hesitate to let them be known!

Edited by DeLarge, 09 July 2011 - 11:51 AM.

[OMNOMNOMALY]

Subject Number: 012

Real Name: Autumn Finley

Code Name: Echo

Age: 22

Appearance: [picture.] Autumn stands at a non-threatening 5'2" that is slim and almost childlike with its lack of curves. She has long dark hair that hangs loosely around her shoulders with severe, straight cut bangs and large brown eyes that stare out fearfully from behind her large framed black glasses. Autumn prefers cute but simple clothing, ultimately making fashion choices that will not make her stand out too much, such as white or pastel coloured tops and dark jeans, or shorts with black leggings underneath. Her shoes are usually the only bright thing in her outfit, her favourite being a pair of red slip-ons.

Personality: Autumn is extremely shy and introverted, preferring to shun the company of other people who would potentially use or hurt her. She never fully recovered from abuse and as such she has difficulty trusting others. She is quiet and dislikes loud noises and confrontation, okay with her role as a shrinking violet.

Abilities: Sonic boom. Autumn is able to channel her voice to scream at deafening volumes and even create some movement, forcing people back or shattering objects, usually rendering others unconscious or incapacitated for a moment, depending on how close they are.

Snippet:
13 year old Autumn lay stiffly under her bed, hardly breathing for fear of being found. Her adoptive father was drunk again and Autumn's adoptive mother was not home this time to stop him from hitting her. Autumn could hear him whistling as he made his way nonchalantly down the hallway, his steps uneven as he used the walls for support. The bathroom door opened, the curtains pulled back.

"Autumn, 're you inhere?" came his slurred speech. Next was his bedroom, and the creak of the old closet being opened, clothes being torn from their hangers.
"Autummmn come 'n keep yer ole' Dad company!" he called out as he shuffled back into the hallway. His footsteps stopped as he stood outside of her bedroom. From her position, she could see his feet in the doorway. "Autumn?" came his voice softly, deceitfully. "I'm not gonna hurt'cha girl, I'm yer Dad for chrissakes." he walked into her room and straight to her closet, tearing down her clothing in the same calm fashion as he had done in his own room. Autumn swore she could smell the booze on him from her position. He shut the closet door after failing to find her, and turned around so he was facing the bed now.

"No, no, no, no..." Autumn thought desperately. Her Mother knew that her husband was drinking again, but she did not realize just how brutal he could be to Autumn when she wasn't home. Autumn felt desperation well up in her chest. She remembered the last time he had hit her, she had sworn it would never happen again; that she would get stronger, that she would stand up to him. But here she was, in the same position, still scared, still alone, still powerless. She welled her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. When she opened them again, she was eye level with her father.

"Boo." he smiled at her. A moment later, his hands gripped the underside of her bed and in a moment she found herself completely exposed as the little single bed was flipped. "That wasn't nice, Autumn! Hidin' from yer Dad like that. 'Re ya' wantin' to get punished?" He laughed mirthfully but his eyes were filled with rage. "C'mere, yer' in trouble now..." He reached down before she could react and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to her feet.

"No, please no, please stop..." she called out quietly, her face was wet with tears now as she desperately tried to free herself from his grip. He reached back and savagely slapped her across the face.

"You should know better, than t'not come when I call ya'." Her cheek was throbbing. He reached back again.

"AAHHHHHHHH!" Autumn's scream surprised even her. The voice was hers, true, but it reverberated around the room, seemingly amplified by an unknown source. Her adoptive Father's hand hung in mid air. His other hand went slack, letting go of her hair as he dropped to the floor. Autumn could see a small trail of blood coming from his ear, down to his jawline. His eardrums had burst.


He wouldn't hit her again.

Edited by OMNOMNOMALY, 15 July 2011 - 09:38 PM.

[Orcus]

Subject Number: #011

Real Name: Braddock “Addley” Raines

Codename: Warp

Age: 23

Appearance: [Addley] Addley stands at a height of 6’2’’ and has a relatively average figure. He always wears his long hair in a ponytail, though his bangs sometimes fall over his amber eyes. He's known for wearing plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans and vans, along with varying watches and sometimes black fedora with a white stripe around the brim.

Personality: Addley has felt somewhat ostracized from society all of his life, at first due to his lack of a family. For many years this perceived isolation shaped Addley into an angry, antisocial, angst-filled delinquent. However, he eventually came to terms with his position in life, partly due to his powers, and made an almost complete personality shift, becoming amiable and jovial. Remnants of his previous personality still exist in certain ways, such as his sarcastic wit and his tendency to become violent and spiteful when his patience is worn thin or he is threatened.

Powers/Abilities: Teleportation- Addley's ability is to bend space time, which he does around himself to create wormholes that transport him from one place to another instantaneously. He currently does not know if his ability has any other applications.

Writing Snippet:
“Just **** off! You’re not my real ******* parents!” Screamed an angry, surprisingly foul-mouthed twelve year old as he stormed out of his adopted parents’ house. He pulled the cigarettes and lighter he had stolen earlier out of his pocket and lit up a smoke before trudging down the windy block away from his house. He took a deep drag, causing him to cough violently. He had only recently started smoking, and had only taken it up to aggravate the family that took care of him. He spat with disgust and stared at the cigarette for a moment before deciding to take another drag. Who gives a ****, right, he thought as he turned a corner and continued walking. He wandered haphazardly from street to street, desperately attempting to get as far away from anything that looked remotely familiar to him. He hated this city, he hated these streets, he hated those people who had tried to take him in, all on principle. This wasn't his city. These weren't his streets. And they were not his family.

"******* **** fuckers..." He mumbled to himself. Honestly he hadn't quite figured out the whole swearing thing quite yet--just like the smoking thing, he thought with a grimace--but that didn't stop him from firing off a swear word every time a chance presented itself. He rattled the word asshat around in his mouth while thinking about his adopted father when suddenly a car screeched to a halt next to him. He rolled his eyes and took another smoke, assuming it was his adopted family, come to bring him back again. He exhaled slowly and then spat to his right in an act of defiance.

"There isn't a goddamned thing you could say to get me to go to that house--" Suddenly the world went black, and Addley heard one thing before passing out.

"You're going to wish you were going home, little punk."

An indiscriminate amount of time later, Addley awoke to find that he was strapped to an operating table. Panicking, he attempted to struggle his way out of his bonds, but the straps were too strong for him. He was in some sort of dimly lit warehouse. A voice from the shadows caused him to spasm, rattling the table violently.

"Ah, good. You're awake. You wouldn't do me any good dead, you little ****," the voice said with a mixture of amusement and spite, which caused Addley's temper to flare.

"At least I've got some use, you piece of **** asshole! You better ******* let me go or else--" "Or else what, little punk?" The man interrupted happily, "Or else your 'parents' will come for you? Why that's exactly what we want. One big family reunion. For a price." Addley swore at himself. Of course they wanted him to get something from those people. He stopped fighting and scoffed at the kidnapper.

"You're not gonna get **** for me!" He yelled, attempting to sound as self-assured as he could. The kidnapper rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket, pulling out a handgun. He strolled over to Addley and placed the gun against Addley's head, who froze the moment he felt the cold steel.

"Well if you're not worth anything maybe I should kill you now?" He stated with a smile. Addley didn't respond, fear paralyzing him entirely. The kidnapped smirked and pulled out a phone, and dialed in a number.

"Yes, hello, is this Mrs. Maribel Raines? No mam, you don't know me. Who I am is far less important than what I want, which is what you should be asking me if you want to see your adopted son again." Addley heard a scream from the other end of the phone, causing him to clench his jaw. Everything he did and that damned woman still worried about him. For the first time in a while, he felt a stab of guilt in his heart. He was going to cost that family more money, even after they poured god know's how much into feeding him and recovering him every time he ran away.

"That's right mam. I'm glad you're so willing to offer up any amount. And while I appreciate your zeal, I need you to know that I'm a serious figure as well." He smiled down at Addley and moved the gun from his forehead to against his left knee. Addley understood immediately and began fighting against his bonds with renewed fervor. He might not like the Raines still, but he owed them an apology for this shitty situation. Suddenly he could feel something inside of him, and he could feel it filling his whole body. His struggling became more erratic, and soon the whole table he was on was shaking as if there was an earthquake. The kidnapper didn't care though, and smiled as he placed his finger on the trigger.

"Your son's shattered knee cap ought to prove my point," he mused. Addley barely heard him through the tremors passing through his body. Although his whole body felt as if electricity was coursing through it, he didn't feel any pain. Despite the stale cold of the warehouse, he felt as if a cool breeze was hitting his face, exactly likee he had experienced by a lake his adopted family had tried taking him once. He closed his eyes and submerged himself in the feeling, just as the kidnapper squeezed the trigger. But instead of the burst of a bullet, all Addley heard was the chirping of a nearby bird. He opened his eyes tentatively, only to find himself standing on the edge of a lake. He exhaled sharply and fell over in shock.

"What... what just happened?"

Other Skills: Addley is a clever strategist. Having survived on his own for many years, he learned to supplement the use of his ability with deception, schemes and ruses (both planned and on a whim) to obtain money, food and shelter.

Edited by Vongola, 05 August 2011 - 07:08 PM.

[K.G]

Subject Number: #008

Real Name: Riona Sharp (Ri for short)

Codename: Phoenix

Age: 22

Appearance: See attachment.
She has two tattoos, one on her left upper arm of a dream catcher with a wolf head in the center of it, the other is on her right shoulder blade, also a wolf's head. Pale skinned with bright blue eyes. Wears minimal jewelery, a silver chain around her neck with a wolf charm on it, a sliver bracelet and a silver band ring on her right middle finger. Usually seen with a cigarette in her mouth. Whether lit or not depends on where she is, but usually she doesn't care. Her hair is long, to the back of her legs but she keeps it in a series of braids unless she's going to bed or in the shower.

Personality: Open and easily distracted she has a large heart and cares for everyone she becomes friends with. Carefree and full of laughter she can sometimes get on people's nerves with her bouncy attitude. Kind and helpful she can also be hot headed and short tempered if something gets on her nerves enough, though it take alot to get it out of her. Messing with her friends is a huge benefactor of this. The type of person who would the shirt off her back if need be to help a person, but will just as easily get angered over the ignorance of people. Even though she doesn't seem like it she is very mature just prefers not to show it often, her mind always working be it with her imagination or serious thoughts it always seems to be in motion, one of the reasons she's so easily distracted sometimes.

Powers/Abilities: She has moderate control of fire, unable to start her own flame yet she needs a trigger, such as a lighter, candle or any open flame. Once she has control over the flame she can manipulate it into a blazing fire or just a simple small flame to light her cigarette, once she puts it out though she will need the open flame to harness it yet again. With no training she doesn't like to push her limits, to scared of what might happen if her powers were to get out of control.

Writing Snippet: She was hiding behind the dumpster, her arms sore and tired, her legs even more so from her running, bruises littered her pale skin already as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip feeling for the split she knew was there, sure enough she felt it as well as tasted the blood from it. Sighing she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she listened to the older teens run past her, looking for her as hard as they dare.
"Where did that little ***** go?! She can't have gone to far dammit!"
She frowned as she heard the strike of a match, the whimper of a younger boy causing her to peek around the dumpster, her eyes going wide as she saw the young boy from the orphanage she had befriended and taken under her wing. He had tears in his eyes as one of the teens pulled his hair and yanked his head back. The leader of the rabble stepping forward with a burning match between his fingers.
"She'll come running once she hears your screams."
Riona felt her anger bubble beneath the surface, her legs tensing almost as if they ached to launch a kick into the teens face, taking a deep breath she stood and stepped around the dumpster.
"Let him go."
"There she is, good of you to show up Ri."
"Let him go."
The older boy shook his head, bringing the match closer to his face, the shadows of the sinking sun being illuminated by the flickering light and making him look sinister, his grin grew evil as he looked at her.
"I don't think so, you see; you beat up a few of my guys and as a return gift I think it's only right that I put a hurt on your friend here."
Riona frowned as she watching him approach her friend, her feet moving swiftly now as she ran forward only to let out a string of curses as two other boys grabbed her and held her back.
"Now now, that's impolite Ri."
She could feel her breathing getting heavier, feel her heart beat quickening; her skin feeling as if it were on fire, her heartbeat now pounding in her ears as she saw him draw closer and closer to her friend. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the pain, wishing she could stop what was happening, the whimpers getting louder and louder as she struggled.
"Leave him alone!"
The match suddenly seemed to explode, the match head breaking into a shower of sparks and hot embers that the teen danced away from.
"What the hell was that?!"
She felt her temper rising now as he lit another one, this time, the flame climbing higher and higher into the air til it was nearly 3 inches high gaining the attention of all those around. They stared at it, transfixed as it began to twist and curl around it's self, leaning towards Ri as she grit her teeth, a animalistic growl bubbling from her throat, the small flame seeming to jump from the match to her hand making everyone jump, including her. Blinking down at her hand as the flame danced in her palm sending a warmth through her arm she looked up to see the other teens had already fled. Shaking her hand she felt her nerves dancing as it vanished and she walked over to her friend.
"How did you do that?!"
She shook her head giving the young boy a smile.
"No clue, but it worked didn't it?"
He nodded happily as she helped him to his feet, her own mind mulling it over again and again but never getting a decent explanation. Pushing it to the back of her mind for the time being she led the way back to the orphanage.

Other Skills: She is proficient is her own style of fighting that seems to be a mixture of kick boxing and street fighting.

Attached Files

•  tek4e18f697bb1f81769842.png   11.64K   23 downloads

Edited by Knuckles' Girl, 11 July 2011 - 10:21 PM.

[P.J. McKrafty]

Subject Number: #004

Real Name: Carter Grey

Codename: Brawler

Age: 23

Appearance: Carter is not incredibly intimidating from the sight of him. He is of average height (probably around 5’11” to 6’) well built, but more like a basketball player than a football star.

Personality: Carter has always loved the limelight, going out of his way to grab what little he can. He is an incredibly driven individual, turning naysayers words into challenges that he strives to overcome. But the best way to describe Carter would have to be that no one is a bigger fan of Carter than Carter himself. He believes (and expresses often) that he is the most skilled individual in his field and will challenge anyone who says otherwise.

Powers/Abilities: To simply put it, Carter can’t die. At least he hasn’t found a way to die yet. He doesn’t succumb to any injuries, and if he does, it has to come from extreme trauma, and the injuries he sustains are minor. Besides that, he is physically like any other person. After finding out his ability at a young age he took up parkour during his young years as a form of rebellion against his adopted parents and actually became quite good at the sport.

Writing Snippet:
The video crackles with static and quickly cut to the beaming face of a young man. He quickly scrambles to his feet and runs to a group of boys standing to the side of some railroad tracks, the horn of an approaching train ringing in the background. The crowd begins to chant and pump their fists.

“Car-ter! Car-ter! Car-ter!” the group chants in a two-noted unison.

A young boy with a ragged mop of blond hair comes jogging into frame with his arms held above his head. He takes a bow before the crowd and the boys cheer and whistle.

Carter finishes bowing and strolls onto the tracks, standing in the middle with his legs cocked to jump. The train’s horn whined as the driver laid on it to scare the boy off the track. Carter fidgets, waiting to jump at the last minute. His legs lurch, He leaps…

And the train slams into him, crushing his frail form.

The only image after this is the group of boys yelling in terror and the train speeding by before the video cuts to static. A few second go by and the video comes back. This time of a dock. Carter comes into view again, carrying a cinderblock tied to some rope. He walks until he is completely in frame and turns to the camera.

“This is the water test.” He says matter-of-factly with a smile and proceeds to throw the cinderblock into the water. He has enough time to wave to the camera and wink before he is snapped off his feet and underwater.

The video instantly cuts to another boy thumping on Carter’s chest on the dock. Carter lays limp for the first few hits but then lurches up and hurls the water out of his lungs with a sputter. He sits gasping for a moment before he hoists himself to his feet and stumbles over to the camera. He glances at his watch and smirks. “Forty five minutes underwater.” Beaming at the camera carter flashes a thumbs up.

The video once again cuts to static to come back to Carter standing against a tree with a blindfold on and an apple on top of his head.

“This is the arrow test.” Carter mutters nervously. A boy walked into view with his back to the camera and draws back the string on a bow and arrow. There is a snap as the string went straight. The arrow catches Carter above his left eyebrow. It cracks and bounces off his forehead spinning. Carter grabs at his forehead falling to his knees.

“SON OF A WHORE!” he roars as his friends rush to check on him. “That hurts like a mother-” One of the boys pulled Carter’s hand away from his forehead and turns to the camera.

“Didn’t even break the skin!” He yells excitedly.

Carter touches where the arrow hit and then looked at his fingers expecting blood. “I guess that’s it.” He says with a tone of certainty. “I can’t die.”

Other Skills: Carter has a bachelors in engineering, making him quite good at designing and machining just about anything, as well as a wide technical knowledge. After graduating with his degree his vanity overtook him though and he took a job as a stunt double on movie sets. From that he picked up some hand to hand fighting skills from the movies he would work on.

Attached Files

•  WJonas_468x815.jpg   24.26K   23 downloads

Edited by P.J. McKrafty, 10 July 2011 - 01:45 AM.

[DeLarge]

Preliminary Casefile

Subject Number: #003
Real Name: Jacob Slate
Codename: Magnus
Age: 23
Appearance: See attached. However, this photo was taken several months ago and subject's physical appearance may have changed in the intervening time.
Personality: Preliminary evaluation has thrown up some concerns about Subject #003's psychological state - he seems to have a number of unresolved anger issues and seems detached from other human beings. However, it is thought that with training, he subject can be fashioned into a strong leader. He has dubious morals, and is willing to do things that can only be classed as 'morally gray' in order to get results.

Powers/Abilities: Subject has power over magnetic fields, meaning he can move metal with his mind. At this stage in his training, he is able to lift heavy weights and move small objects quickly, but his fine motor control leaves a lot to be desired. He has also recently developed the ability to create electromagnetic pulses, which can disable electronic equipment, but this facet of his ability is unstable and difficult to control. Tests have shown that subject has the potential to be one of the most powerful supers on the planet, but it will take years, possibly even decades of training, and he is unlikely ever to live up to this potential.
Other Skills: Subject is a competent physical combatant, able to hold his own against one or two opponents of a similar level, but he usually prefers to use his abilities to fight. However, he is a good tactician and leader, able to effectively organise and deploy his team in a combat situation, partly due to the fact that he doesn't really care what they think of him.

 Aidan Turner.jpg   166.18K   26 downloads

[Drizzt Do'urden]

Subject Number: 007

Real Name: Tyler Reins

Codename: Vegas

Age: 23

Appearance: Tyler stands at 6'2 and weighs a solid 215, he keeps his dark brown, almost jet black hair in a shorter military cut. His ice blue eyes are said to provoke a feeling of uneasieness to his enemies. His facial hair is seemingly always in a five o'clock shadow. He chooses to dress as though he were 'vegas bound' every day choosing black slacks, white shirt, and over jacket whenever possible; feeling that looking lucky makes you lucky. He has a scar running from the corner of his right eye down to the right corner of his mouth from a time when his luck almost ran out.

Personality: Being 'lucky' all his life Tyler has developed an incredibly carefree personality. It seems as though everything in his life has went his way. This causes many around him to lack the ability to take him seriously; for those that stick with him to see his loyality and true self shine through that trait is normally erased and his carefree demeanor becomes the caring one he truley possesses. He's willing to die for the ones he lets in, and willing to put screw those he doesn't know to the wall.

Powers/Abilities: Vegas' powers at first, and for most of the story, seem to be nothing but incredibly good luck. Punches that would fell any boxer seem to skip off him, bullets racing for his head change trajectory at the last moment. Even his name translates to his card playing when royal flushes are dealt to him like nothing even the most seasoned gambler as ever seen.

His power is limited in the way that, at least right now, he must visually have seen the danger or combatant before his 'luck' can affect them. His ability cannot react fast enough to affect machine guns reliably, he may knock away a few shots but will be overwellmed quickly.

Later Vegas will discover he has telekeinesis, a weaker form that has allowed him to save himself unconsciously. He will gain some manipulation, but his total mastery will likely never been known, at least on a conscious level.

Writing Snippet: "Hey kid come back here" the voices shout from behind as Tyler runs through traffic, a bus narrowly missing him.

Without slowing he looks down at the small mountain of money he obtained from hustling people. It always seemed as though it ended the same way for him no matter if he choose to use the cup and ball, craps, cards, or any of the other numerous games he'd ridged. Somebody always got wise and wanted their, and everybody else's money, back.

"I said stop now!" Risking a glance Tyler saw the three burley men he'd taken for a cool grand gaining ground on him. He thought it seemed as though the men were bigger than before.

"Umph" Tyler muttered as he fell to the ground, tripping over the one thing boys his age trip over...his own feet.

He attempted to roll to his feet as quick as he could, but they were already on him. Two held him down while a third stuck him with something he couldn't see, or feel since it brought a swift blackness with it.

The screaming in his head was so loud as he awoke he thought it was what had awoke him, it wasn't until a second had gone by that he realized he was soaking wet.

Opening his eyes he saw one of the three thugs that chased him holding a dripping bucket, the apparent cause of his dampness. "A motherly good morning kiss would've been a little gentler" It was at that moment Tyler realized just how sturdy the bucket was as it struck his skull.

"Aww you must be really scared to make jokes like that runt." a fourth man sitting at a table starred at him in a way that for some reason struck Tyler with true terror. In front of the man the three cups Tyler used for his games sat. One was exposed showing the hatch mechanism he used to suck the ball up, or drop it out of.

"This really is a genius idea, its unfortunate though you choose to set up shop in my territory and rip my money." The man pulled a revolver and immediately blew one of the three men who chased Tyler away, the sound of gunfire was deafening, the sound of the dead man thudding to the ground was even worse.

"I told you three to go straight to the store and pick up my goodies, then you lose my money to this kid." Directing the gun to Tyler almost cause an accidental bowel incident that he wouldn't forget. "We're going to play a game my young friend, you pick the cup with the ball and I'll let you live. Fail and my good friends here will burn your remains with my exassociate here."

The man began working the cups as Tyler approached the table, he could see the men draw their weapons, similar revolvers, in his periphreal. He wathced the cups, knowing it didn't matter since the man figured out the mechanics of the cups. As the cups came to a stop Tyler saw the man's thumb twitch on the cup with the ball, the other simultaneously twiched on a second cup.

Without hesitation Tyler grabbed the cup that would now hold the ball, and much to the surprise and displeasure of the boss, picked up the cup revealing the prize.

"Kill him anyways," The man's apparent lack of a humility bone shined through as Tyler instintively leapt back. A push from behind revealed another thug apparently that had apparently been quietly watching Tyler incase he'd decided to try and make a break for it.

The boss leveled the weapon at Tyler, he could swear he saw the round in the chamber as the cylinder moved into position as the trigger was pulled. Tyler closed his eyes and fliched as he heard the crack, and only opened them as the man behind him slammed into the ground.

"You killed Jerry boss," The thug that struck Tyler in the street switched targets and instantly blasted the boss, apparently killing of the henchmen was a typical occurence this guy didn't like.

As if in a stupid movie on tv the other guy, still loyal to a boss that was obviously dead, shot the man that killed the boss.

Feeling confused and still genuinly scared, Tyler droped to the ground and felt for the dead man behind him's weapon. Raising to his feet he pointed the weapon at the man who was already targeted on Tyler.

"Too slow kid," The man pulled the trigger, but something unexpected happened. The weapon backfired, sending the hammer backwards into his skull.

As the man fell to the ground Tyler turned and ran, he didn't care about the money, didn't care about the scam he'd taken weeks to design and create, didn't care about anything except getting back to the orphanage he'd left weeks ago to 'make a life for himself.' Maybe they'd take him back, he found himself praying as he ran.


Other Skills: Tyler's power allows for a certain degree of 'luck' when it comes to firearms. He's not a dead-eye by any means, but his bullets sometimes seem to curve to reach the more threatening targets.His blows can sometimes hit harder than they should be able too, but only when he feels truley threatened.

Edited by Drizzt, 12 July 2011 - 03:25 PM.

[Lilt]

Subject Number: #002
Real Name: Esfir "Collins" Veselov
Codename: Martian
Age: 23
Appearance: Esfir, 'Collins', #002, or the 'Martian' wearing her space helmet.
Esfir's pixie-cut black hair and dark brown eyes along with her nose indicate some mongoloid features in her ancestry. However, her skin color and height suggests that she is mixed. She stands at 170cm and usually wears form fitting clothes, like a cosmonaut would wear when preparing to suit up for flight. Her figure is almost masculine in appearance, being long and skinny but also showing some definition of muscles.

Personality: Esfir, when described by most people who've come to know her, would describe her as 'distant' or 'other-worldy'. She tends to stare off at the stars and sometimes seems alien in her display of emotions. She is not normally a quiet person, but doesn't mind not interacting with other people. Because of this she is sometimes mistaken as antisocial. When in reality, she is just fine with solitude at times.

Esfir can also be seen as an introvert, since she is often daydreaming of space or lost in her own thoughts. She is sometimes slow to respond, but when she does respond she goes all out to make up for her silence. This often leads her to laughing too loud at a simple joke or agreeing too enthusiastically with a friend's idea.

As a child, Esfir was always thought to be simple. Through her adult life though, she has been seen to be quick in her thinking. She usually acts before she speaks her plans which can be troublesome for those around her.

Powers/Abilities: All people in their life, even hardened criminals, never break one single law in their life. However, Esfir's powers allow her to break that law over and over again. She can even force other people and objects to join her in her crime. This is the law of gravity. Esfir is able to manipulate the power of gravity a planet has over her or anything she touches. She can then float around as she sees fit.

This has been dangerous, however and has caused her to almost float off into space. Esfir is trying to learn to imitate the moon's gravity and needs a spacesuit with rocket boosters in order to use her power to its fullest potential. She usually changes her gravity in an instant so she can float, kick off a wall, then land at a new unreachable destination.

Her power to remove another person or object's force of gravity really helps in combat. If she can touch someone or something, then she can use her power and leave them floating off helplessly. She tries to use this power indoors at all time, however, so she won't leave them to a cruel fate in the vacuum of space. With dangerous objects though, she'll do her best to use her power outside so they'll be removed from the atmosphere before exploding or hurting anyone else.

Besides having to touch someone or something, Esfir is also limited in that she can't make an item or person weigh more than they should. This is because she can't add mass to what she touches.

Other Skills: Without her powers, Esfir is still very agile. She worked hard at getting to know how her body could respond with several years of gymnastics. Thanks to this training she is very flexible and can usually evade obvious attacks. Besides this, she is a trained pilot and has her license.

Writing Snippet:

In a small quiet town, in a small quiet state, a few houses and a few barns were scattered in each direction. Fences and weeds divided up the large plots of land. In this place, neighbors weren't seen too often but when they were seen it was a celebration. The community, though spread far apart, was closely bound together. Six years ago, a child was added to this community from an orphanage. This child was Esfir Veselov. At her new home, in this farm community, she became known as Esther Collins.

Two years later, Esther made a friend. They were both the same age and the only young girls around for miles. Rebecca, Esther's new friend, was more like a sister to her even after they first met.

Unfortunately, their friendship and sisterhood wasn't meant to last. On her twelfth birthday, Esther was bored of the farm life. Rebecca didn't mind it so much but listened carefully to Esther's talks about leaving the town and even leaving the Earth and going to outer space. She usually giggled to her friend's stories, but she would always give her a supporting touch and tell her that she would make it there one day.

It was almost time for Esther's birthday party when it happened. Rebecca and Esther had gone away by themselves to talk like they usually did, enjoying each other's company. Rebecca's birthday was tomorrow so Esther was more excited about that day than her own birthday party. They talked while Esther's mom baked a cake.

"I'm serious, Esther. Your party will be great so don't even think about mine okay?"

Esther smiled. "I know, but I still can't wait. Wait until you see what I..."

Esther's smile fell away and was replaced with a look of fear as her voice trailed off. Against her will, her legs stopped touching the ground and she started floating towards the sky.

"Esther!" Rebecca cried out suddenly.

Esther panicked and reached for the hand that was held out to her. Suddenly, she fell back to the ground but not before Rebecca was floating off the ground and was pushed towards the sky. Esther couldn't reach her in time.

"Rebecca! Rebecca!" Esther cried out over and over.

Rebecca called for Esther but her voice was getting fainter and fainter as she flew upwards, higher and higher. Esther was reduced to tears and screamed wildly. Her parents came out to find Rebecca missing and Esther laying in the grass alone and crying and calling for her friend.

Two years later, there was no sign of Rebecca and every one gave up hope of ever finding her. Esther's story sounded crazy, so her parents did their best to keep it to themselves. They imagined that the shock of losing her friend was too great for Esther and that she dreamt the whole thing or made it up to cope with her friend's disappearance.

Esther withdrew into a solitude during those two years and was changing from the helpful, cheerful little girl that her adopted parents had raised. They decided to send her off to an aunt in the family who lived far away and in a big city. That way Esther could make new friends. Before she left though, Esther asked her adopted parents for her real name. They gave it to her. Esfir Veselov. She hugged them and thanked them but otherwise left quietly, trapped in her own thoughts.

In her new home, Esfir refused to be called Esther by her aunt and only would accept the surname, 'Collins' if she was going to call her by anything else. The aunt was too busy to look after a child though, so she signed Esfir up for whatever lessons she could. Soon, Esfir was taking pilot training courses and gymnastics.

With four years of gymnastics and her pilot's license, Esfir left her aunt's home at eighteen and moved in with friends. It was here that she continued her studies, in subjects that both interested her or were necessary for a living.

Esfir never really made a good friend like Rebecca again. She didn't try to not be friendly. She just was holding a terrible burden inside of her and couldn't tell anyone about that day or that she discovered years later that what happened was the cause of some sort of superhuman power she had manifested.

She had experimented alone with her power, always indoors. But even then, her power scared her. It was too wild and unpredictable. She would just try to forget about having such a power if she could. Esfir didn't realize though, that shortly after her twenty-third birthday, it would be impossible to pretend she was a normal young woman any longer.

Edited by Lilt, 13 July 2011 - 10:51 AM.

[Ellerby]

Subject Number: #006
Real Name: Cody Aneel
Codename: Critter
Age: 22
Appearance: See attached. Subject is 5'7" with a slim, slightly athletic build. He has pale white skin and shaggy dark brown hair and hazelnut coloured eyes. He regularly wears a plain white T-shirt and dark blue denim pants.
Personality: Subject #006 may seem quiet and collected at first, but Subject has proven to wield a silver tongue and will try to talk his way in and out of many situations. He's quite witty and while he prefers not to be the center of attention, he enjoys mocking people he doesn't like and egging them on. Subject places high value in friendship and loyalty, possibly influenced by his connection with animals. Generally keeps to himself and only speaks when he feels its of utmost importance.

As mentioned, Subject has a seemingly deep connection with the Earth and the animal kingdom. He gets aggravated easy if he feels either has been offended. Topics such as gloobal warming, pollution, animal extinction and animal hunting are to be avoided at all times around Subject #006. He will go off the deep end.

Powers/Abilities: Animal Morphing - Subject #006 retains the uncanny ability to shapeshift into the form of any animal he pleases. He claims he can "sense" the presence of the animals spirits in the world, and simply needs to ask their permission to tap into their power. Once he's asked an animals permission he needs not do it a second time. The animals he can turn into is limited not by their size, but how close the anatomy of the animal is to a human. For example, it's just as hard for him to morph into a whale as it is a flea, but a gorilla is an easy task. Subject also says he's been denied permission from various animals who aren't trusting of him.

When asked how the commutation between him and the animals works, Subject described the communication in the "spirit world" as a sort of telepathy, but much more primal and instinctive. Tapping into this other "world" Subject claims exists does seem to drain a considerable amount of his energy. Therefore he cannot regularly speak with animals this way unless he turns into the same animal and speaks their language. He calls getting the permission of an animal gaining its "contract" and after 10 years of having this ability he's only obtained 3 contracts.
Other Skills: Subject is quick with his words and just as quick on his feet. He's no fighter, but he has good reflexes and can run fairly fast.

Writing Snippet: A young boy panted heavily as he ran as fast he could through a large corn field in the pitch black of night. Holding a pile of various vegetables in one arm, he brushed away the foliage with the other constantly looking back to see how close his pursuer was. The barking of a wolf could be heard not far behind him, quickly making up ground on the boy. After about a minute of running, the boy spotted the edge of the corn field that led into the forest and found the last of his adrenaline to boost himself out of the field. Just as he cleared the last of the corn, he tripped on a protruding tree root and slammed into the ground, the vegetables he'd stolen rolling away on the dirty forest floor. The patter of the wolves paws grew louder and louder.

The boy scrambled to get up, backing away from the corn field nervously, still sitting on his hind. Before he could get back on two feet, the beast emerged from the brush, walking slowly toward the boy. It was a dark gray wolf with yellow eyes that pierced the boys soul. As the beast stepped closer and closer the boy scurried backwards further and further before backing right into a tree trunk. He dared not stand and run, completely instilled with fear. He closed his eyes covering his face with his arms, readying himself for death. And then time itself seemed to slow to a stop.

In an instant the boy could feel every living creature on the planet, their hearts beating as one. Pink and blue flashes of opaque animals blurred past the boy vision faster than he could realize as if someone were shooting them at his face through a hose. The rushing came to a sudden stop and the image of an angry gorilla raising its arms flashed in the boys head before his eyes shot open.

In one fluid motion the boy stood up raising his arms, his shape morphing into that of a large gorilla. His clothes tore apart as his body grew larger and heavier. When he finished morphing the only clothes that remained were his tattered plaid boxers. He thrusted his muscular monkey arms into the air and let out an intimidating roar that sent the wolf whimpering back into the corn field. As quickly as he'd stood up, the boy fell back down to his knees, his body morphing back into that of a nearly naked human.

The boy fell unconscious before he hit the ground, waking up the next morning in the middle of the forest in just his boxers.

Attached Files

•  critter.jpg   163.56K   8 downloads

Edited by White, 11 July 2011 - 10:53 PM.

[Darth Vectis]

Subject Number: #009

Real Name: Aimanan "Hood" Fathi

Codename: Night Terror

Age: 22

Appearance: Aimanan. Aimanan would be considered average in only his height as he stands at only 5’10 and actually has a lean build, he has no overly obvious muscle mass and seems a bit gangly at times in the right light. His skin tone is actually fairly dark shade, the major factor coming from his heritage of having both of his parents originally being from the Middle East. He wears the gold hoop earrings for comical effect mostly and changes them at his own whim.

Aimanan avoids wearing anything too extravagant, except for his work. Normally consists of a plain white long sleeve shirt and black slacks. He also wears a Japa Mala, Buddhist prayer beads, around his wrist. The beads are made of bone and twin blue thread tassels hang down from the beads. He also wears a Misbaha or Islamic Prayer beads, around his neck that consists of 99 beads and, in his mind, keep him closely connected with the parents he never really knew.

Personality: Aimanan is a confusing mixture of playfulness, cruel cynicism, morbid curiosity and a deep down need to help others. His powers make him kind of a trickster, fueling one of the more prominent parts of his personality. He enjoys a good laugh, but because of his serious trust issues with others he finds it harder to let go of that jokester side when the situation becomes grave. His jokes can seem insensitive at times with somewhat of his lack of ability to fully understand another person emotionally.

He does however try to be the comic relief for the people he knows, his deep seeded need to please others and help them in any way he can. He will do anything for a laugh, whether it is rude behavior or some off colored joke, anything to brighten the day, even in the most infinitesimal sense.

Powers/Abilities: Shadow Manipulation- Aimanan has the power to manipulate the shadows around the world, however, his control and what he can do with the shadows is very limited. He can form shapes from them, craft illusions whether humanoid figure or beastly in appearance. His illusions, however, can only touch inanimate objects and give faint feeling of a cold touch. Otherwise, his powers can do nothing else and he must rely upon his own dexterity to prevail

Writing Snippet: “Come one come all; see the wonders of the supernatural! See the magic before your very eyes!” The voice called out to the crowd, the fairgrounds full of people on this hot summer day. The voices of the crowd a dull drone as they talked, the sounds of the fair games and rides trying to overtake the crowd, to draw them to them to make them spend their money. The man bellowing out to the crowd dressed in a black and white tuxedo, a top hate adoring his head with the classic black mustache and the gentleman’s cane in his hand as he gestured to the people. Inside the tent was dark, the lights dim as people slowly settled into seats, the curtain drawn as people spoke quietly amongst themselves. Eyes looked from behind the curtain now, light brown in color, they scanned the gathering group of people, feeling his hands start to tremble lightly. Rubbing his hands together with a grin on his face, his nervousness preventing him from doing anything but smile no matter how hard he tried to force it away.

“It’ll be alright, don’t be nervous.” A voice said from behind him as a hand settled on his young shoulder, wringing his fingers he could only nod as he looked to the feminine face of the woman he came to see as mother. In the darkness of the tent, the details of her features couldn’t be seen clearly, but he knew she had lines from years of worry, the age showing on her face with the slight graying in her long flowing hair. It didn’t affect her act in the least bit, being the fire breather and the sword eater only proved how tough she was. After they had adopted him, bringing him into their circus family, he could only hope to make her proud with his performance. Within moments, the main entrance had been closed and the announcer beginning again, introducing the acts as they came out one by one.

The crowd of people sitting in awes, some in boredom from seeing the acts before, but still entranced by the almost freakish ways they performed their tricks. Each act that passed made the young boys heart jump, beating faster and faster as he tried to control his breath, keep from sweating through his costume. Soon enough, he heard the cue backstage that he was coming up, steadying his nerves then as he listened intently to the announcer, the man who was father to him now.

“Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you a very special treat for your eyes. Tonight, I have the honor to present a new act, to give you the pleasure of seeing our newest member of our family. I give you the Prince of Night, the Boy of wonders; I give you, Hood!” With the words spoken, the body pulled up his hood then, the fog machine kicking on as the lights dimmed more, the boy moving out swiftly then. Taking center stage, under the cover of the fog he remained still, his hand maid cloak covering his body with the hood hanging over his head. Separate lights kicked on then, the blinding white light covering him then, making him only a shadowy figure, the crowd silent as the boy remained motionless.

Suddenly his hands appeared from his cloak, light bursting from his out stretched hands, the colorful show giving the crowd all that they needed to draw them in. When the color disappeared, Aimanan threw back his cloak then, revealing his face with a smile. Continuing his act then, one he had been working on for months upon months, learning the small details that made every trick that much more fantastic. The crowd was drawn in to his act, following each trick as he performed them as he had practiced. Mentally telling him to take his time, until he heard a voice in the crowd, one that would break his concentration enough.

“Oh, that’s SO fascinating! Come on kid, where is the real magic?” He heard the voice, couldn’t see the face but his mind began to stumble, his hands faltering as he tried to do a card trick, losing the card from his grip and trying to pick it off the ground. The crowd laughed then, the tone of it obvious, the mockery of each sound smashing into his heart with every wave of renewed laughter. The heckler in the crowd still poking and prodding Aimanan, the boy trying to maintain focus, the tears welling up in his eyes as he could only try to keep from weeping before the crowd. All he wanted to do was retreat from the world; hide in the dark depths of the shadows where he felt the safest, where he felt the most at home. His mind shifted then, his thoughts turning to the heckler in the crowd, the one who felt the need to bring down a boy who had done him no harm. His want, his sudden desire for the heckler to get what was coming to him, it caused him to focus on the place where the voice came from. And his time of great desire, the shadows obeyed, the shapes forming from the inky blackness created by the pure light.

Using his head, the shapes came to life, rising from nowhere as they took on nightmarish forms, some regular animal’s people feared, wolves, bears, serpents and other creatures. Others could only be explained as beings summoned from your deepest nightmare, the creatures flwoing out then at the gestures of his hands, the hot tears rolling down his face now as the crowd screamed. The creatures pushing through them, evaporating at the touch of mortals, leaving only chilled spines in their wakes as they looked for the one man. They found him quick enough, cowering away from the creatures, a warm trail flowing down his legs as the shadow creatures surround him, throwing up his hands as a shield before the creatures leaped as one, the mass of shadow enveloping the man before evaporating again.

Leaving only the man on the ground, his pants wet from the encounter, his eyes wide as he looked around, the people rising from where they had fallen to look at the young man. Aimanans eyes just as wide as the crowd, his father having seen it all, the only question that could cross his mind was one he didn’t think he could ever voice to anyone. What did I get myself into?

Other Skills: The combination of the need to help and his morbid curiosity has lead Aimanan to study medicine, having a photographic memory he was able to learn books upon books of medical text. He wouldn’t go as far as to declare himself a doctor, but it has saved his skin plenty of times. And with the powers he has, he also developed his sleight of hand tricks which make him a particularly interesting street magician for those last minute distractions.

Edited by Dassem Ultor, 12 July 2011 - 12:32 PM.

[Shwa]

Subject Number: #010
Real Name: Derek DeWitt
Codename: "Flare"
Age: 23
Appearance: Derek "Flare" DeWitt (Just changing the hair and eye color in the description)

Derek stands about 5'10 from the rest of his peers, average build with some bulk for working out excessively. He's definitely one to handle his own weight, white skin with a small tan with his arms and legs covered his long red hair at the base of his head, extending to his shoulders. Derek wears glasses even though his eyes are cloudy white. The teen usually wears cargo shorts and a long sleeve black thermal shirt that hugs his body, the heat from the sun doesn't seem to bother him much, even though his friends always complain its burning up.

Derek is blind by birth, doctors could not figure why his eyesight did not function, he was born a healthy child thanks to his birth mother whom he never knew in life. The only explanation would be a side effect of his super powered abilities. But even with his disability, he's managed and adapted to his life thanks to the help of his seeing eye dog he has at his house, a white and black Siberian husky who's loyal and at his side when needed on call.

Personality: Through hardships of being a foster child, Derek really hasn't show and hatred for the life he's been dealt. Going through life blind and limited without one of his senses hasn't stopped the boy from making friends or achieving a strong scholastic standing in school. He's a pretty mellow guy and knows his virtues from advice given to him by his mentors, Derek is one to know from right and wrong and doesn't plan to stray from his life lessons to choose from in between. Derek likes to listen more than talk, but he is one to give good advice to solve a problem once he listens to both ends of the spectrum.

Powers/Abilities: Derek has the ability to draw on the power of sunlight and light in general to produce pure energy into his body, when concentrating enough he has the ability to project pure energy blasts from his hands towards his enemy. The energy comes out as a bright white light, but the damage it causes is enough to destroy a heavy armored tank, the limitations to his ability is that from his own power source. He requires the natural rays of the sun or powerful light source to produce enough of his own kinetic energy to use in combat.

Derek has been practicing with his own powers, trying to produce a "solar flare" blast that will temporarily blind his opponents with a flash as bright as the sun.

Writing Snippet:
Derek strolled down the busy streets of the city, finishing his class that afternoon after attending all morning since 7 am, the boy was joined by a couple of his classmates who tagged along for the long walk. All the students talked about their day at school and activities for the weekend as the passed the corner, Derek's husky puppy walked close by to his new master, lively and sniffing for new scents as the group continued their stroll. As the group turned the corner, they were bombarded by a group of men who ran towards them and knocked each student down onto the concrete streets. Derek fell to his side and scraped his shoulder in the process, the small puppy barking madly as the men shook their heads and gathered up the wadded up rolls of money they had dropped.

"******* kids, move the hell out of the way" One of the men sneered as they scooped their well stolen prize, but the haste of the delay caught up to them as they could hear shouting coming from down the street where they had come from.

"Hurry up dumb ass, they're getting closer" Another shouted at he got the last of his cash, he knew there were more still on the ground, but it would be better to leave with what they have rather than being caught by the police. Derek finally made it to his hands and knees as he tried to stand, feeling around with his hands at his surroundings as the teen felt some thin pieces of paper and random books scattered on the ground below. As the boy tried to stand onto his feet, he was kicked on the side of the face by the largest man who passed by him.

"Stupid piece of ****" He laughed as Derek groaned, the sounds of footsteps could be heard vanishing in the distance as a new set came towards the group, police officers bent down to check on the students who had been knocked down. One officer checking on Derek, his puppy whimpering as he nestled to his master.

"You alright kid?" The officer asked as he inspected the wound.

"Yeah..." Derek spat some blood out onto the concrete floor, the foul taste of raw metallic coming from his body always through him off, even the slight smell of it. In the distance, a vans screeching could be heard as everyone shot their heads towards the direction of the sound. Derek began to sweat a little and felt burning itch coming from his palm, his body shook slightly as his seeing eye puppy whimpered at the new feeling surrounding his master. As the fleeing van began to drive past the group and police officers, Derek instinctively extended his hand towards the van. Once the van came in front of his palm, the side exploded and flipped over several times before landing on its top, sliding onto the street until it ran into a light pole. Everyone looked in awe, they could not believe what had happened before their eyes, Derek calmed himself as he finally stood up, one of his friends helping the boy get a steady stance.

"Dude, did you see that?!? It just, well....it blew up!" Derek shook his head, reminding his friend of his inability to see. But he knew something for sure, he was the cause of it. The police wasted not time as they surrounded the van, capturing the thieves who knocked the kids down from before. "Man, that was ******* awesome. Let's get you home bud" Derek's friend guided the boy towards his house, the others left their separate way as well, surely to talk about this event when they go back to school after the long weekend.


Other Skills: Despite his handicap, Derek has the unique ability to work well with electronics. He has the ability to hear the binary codes the electronic device is emitting, enabling the boy to translate the code into words and letters in his head, as if reading a braille. Using this skill to his advantage, Derek has become quite skillful with programming and hacking into systems on the internet without fail

[DeLarge]

SIGN UPS ARE NOW CLOSED!

That is, with the exception of Lilt, I will allow you to edit your post, provided you do it within the next couple of days. You're all in, and I will post the RP proper later today! I'm really happy to have had so much interest in this, your sign ups are all really good and I hope we can make this RP something a bit special!

[Gavin]

[Edit] OK that’s that all done, changed his codename because it sounded a bit too close to Drizzt’s character’s name and tidied up the powers bit which was a little too waffle-y.

Subject Number: #005

Real Name: Michael McKnight

Codename: Novus

Age: 22

Appearance: [Michael]

Stands roughly around 6’ tall, athletic but still somewhat lean. Definitely not the type that works out on a regular basis and the heaviest lifting he does probably involves books. Clothing wise Michael is fairly normal, a mixture of jeans, long or short t-shirts, hoodies, etc. Tends to favour nerdy t-shirts such as the http://fashionablyge...tion-image.jpg'>following.

Personality: Michael is a quiet and unassuming sort of person, the type that tends to stay at the back of groups rather than attempting to be the centre of attention. He has a deep dislike of disharmony and will avoid or attempt to diffuse tense situations. Kind, reliable and loyal, he can be somewhat introverted around new people and takes a while to come out of his shell but becomes chatty and enthusiastic around subjects of interest.

Powers/Abilities: Particle Manipulation: A powerful form of microkinesis, Michael is capable of freely moving and controlling different types of particles around him to an extremely fine degree. So far he is most adept with the manipulation of air particles but has demonstrated some level of control over water, sound, earth and even light under controlled tests. Speculatively Michael could be capable of controlling any type of particle in existence.

In a combat situation Michael will usually limit himself to air-compression techniques whereby he forms superdense material capable of either being projected towards opponents like bullets or wrapped around himself to form a shield. Cloaking himself in a pocket of this superdense air Michael is also capable of limited flight, though it requires a very high degree of concentration and leaves him somewhat more vulnerable than the shield-form.

Writing Snippet:

Extract from the Journal of Michael McKnight

People have asked me before when I first developed my powers, truth be told I don’t have the faintest idea. I didn’t wake up a superhero one morning, walk groggily into the bathroom and notice a brand new sixpack as I’m brushing my teeth to go along with my sense of justice and freedom.

There were probably earlier incidents, reaching out for a can of soda that was just slightly out of my reach but which still found itself in my hand without moving, jumps or shots in basketball which were definitely behind my skillset. Stuff that’s easy to dismiss because I wasn’t paying attention to how strange it was.

Now I have it on pretty good authority that I’m a gigantic geek so it probably comes as no surprise that the first time I realised I had powers came about from doing something I knew was impossible but managed to do anyway.

It was a Saturday afternoon, lazy and warm like all good Saturday afternoons should be, a faint breeze blowing in my second story bedroom window reminded me that there was an actual world out there outside of the latest fictional world I was engrossed in. A sudden edge of dryness hit my throat so I left the book down on my pillow and stared longingly over at the still frost covered beverage my mother had left at some point in the half-hour on my desk. The distance between myself and that soda was probably no more than a few meters but it might as well have been the Death Star trench run.

I’m sure a lot of people do it, though you’ll be damned if you find anyone who admits to it publicly. Your fingers uncurl, arm extended and you pretend, even half hope that maybe the object will even just shudder a little before you have to actually physically go and get it.

Well there I was, stretching out with my feelings, trusting the Force to bring me refreshment when suddenly my can does start shuddering. Little by little it edges its way across the desk, me staring like a slack-jawed Mudder in disbelief but absolutely unwilling to let my hand waver even a little before this phenomenal event.

I’d like to say the can just glided across the air very gracefully and Jedi-like in my open hand but the truth of it is that once the soda actually left the desk it picked up speed pretty fast, like disorienting fast, and I the poorly trained Padawan found myself getting a face-full of soda in exactly the way I didn’t want it. Thankfully, or maybe not, the can itself didn’t open in-flight so I was just left with a red mark to accentuate my by then pale face.

“Oh…my…God.”

Other Skills: His gentle nature allows him to more easily communicate with other members of the team, acting as a sort of group sounding board or moderator. Good at getting people to open up to him and discuss problems, though he would be best described as an earnest amateur in this regard.

Edited by Gavin, 19 July 2011 - 08:39 AM.