[System]
Frost

"Why don't you take a chill pill?"

Vitals
Age: 29

Sex: Male

Date of birth: 22nd May, 1986

Lineage: -

Class/Major: Rogue

Class/Minor: Mage

Occupation: Detective

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Marital Status: Widower

Birthplace: New York, New York

Blood Type: B+

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'

Weight: 177 lbs

Hair Color/Style: Snow white, waist length hair tied into a long, thin ponytail.

General Appearance: Anthropomorphic wolf. Normally wears a thick hoodie over a shirt, a grey square cap on his head, jeans and sneakers. His hands are usually adorned with a pair of plain black fingerless gloves.

Skin Tone/Condition: Normal grey wolf fur colours.

Markings: Two sky blue arrows that start on his cheeks, pointing towards his eyes. The other ends of the arrows travels as stripes down his neck, shoulders and onto his arms, where they end as arrows again on the tops of his hands. These markings glow a pale blue.

Combat Stats

Dominant Hand: Right

Equipment:

-Upper Body: Nil

-Lower Body: Nil

Weapons* Black Blade - A standard length katana with a wholly black blade, the sword is Daniel's power focus. He can channel his ice energy into it to make it flash freeze anything he hits, and it is also bound to him; he can summon it anywhere he chooses to. Its blade is razor sharp, able to cut through most sturdy materials like wood or stone with ease, metal less so because of its strength against a cutting force, but with a substantial effort, yes he can cut blades with his sword.
* Eagles - Two IMI Desert Eagle pistols with engraved grips. These pistols, born from magical energy, do not run out of ammunition, instead shooting bullets of compressed magic. In turn, Daniel can channel his ice into the guns to make them shoot ice bullets that freeze their targets solid.

Abilities* Super Speed
* Enhanced Strength
* Enhanced Reflexes
* Heightened Senses

Magic* Ice Elemental - Daniel, once flesh and bone, is now a being wholly made of ice. His intensive training with the element has made him so in tune with it that he has become one with the cold. As such, basic physical attacks to his body cannot harm him, as he will simply refreeze any injuries he suffers. He is also highly skilled in the use of ice magicks. Magical attacks, however, will cut past the ice that once was his flesh and injure his inner being, making him bleed in that sense.
* Mark of the Rogue - Representing the Rogue, Daniel is able to travel at speeds faster than the naked eye can follow, along with being able to easily navigate terrain, staying out of sight and being a very fast attacker. All this emphasis on speed does reduce his ability to hit harder than he's normally able to.

Bio

Voice: Deep, raspy, compelling.

Personality: Cool and collected, cunning and lethal, Daniel makes it a point to let everyone know that he means business and that if you cross him, bad things will happen to you. That being said, he treats his friends with the utmost care and concern; if you are on his good side, you are a best friend to him. Acquaintances that have likewise earned his trust and respect are people whom he will also treat very well.

Backstory: Born in New York City, Daniel Anderson took into his father's footsteps by enrolling in the NYPD and becoming an officer. With hard work and determination, he took up his late dad's desk as a detective and began a long, hard career in the service.

Near his fifth year in the office he was taken over by a powerful celestial force known as the Protectorate, and was transformed into a Protector; a powerful demigod whose sole purpose was to ensure the safety of the world. He trained with the best and made many friends around the world, demigods one and all. Together he and his Guardians went on many an adventure, with the safety of the planet often hanging in the balance.

After several decades, Earth began to decay. Society collapsed, the environment ran rampant and turned the world into a wasteland. Still he persevered, though the more years he spent on the earth, the more of his Guardians fell to the ravages of time, age and injury. It was then that he realised that the world didn't need him any more; it was dying, and soon it would be time for the demigod, now nearly a full god in terms of power, to leave for greener pastures. One of the remaining Guardians suggested that he venture into the multiverse; a plane where worlds and universes collided, an interdimensional highway, so to speak. An endless amount of possibilities lay within, and the promise of more power. So he went, leaving the ailing Earth to the care of the remaining Guardians, and entered the multiverse as a wanderer.

Now Daniel is no longer a god. He considers himself more of an elemental than anything else. His wanderings have brought him far and wide, though recognition is sparse. A run-in with a Dreamer ages ago was the closest he'd been to making a friend in the multiverse.

[User]
Xing Yi knew that his iron shirt technique would work against him in this situation he was missing his punches because his mobility was effected. Once he got moving he would have to 'deactivate' the technique to move again at full speed. But the werewolf had already thrown a counter punch, a hook with his fist covered in ice spikes. Xing yi wasnt fast enough to dodge the move, but a skilled enough martial artist to tuck his chin and block with a shoulder roll, a fairly western technique but these were competetive moments.

The punch smashed into his shoulder but because of the iron shirt and the robes resisting the magical ice Xing was able to block any injuries though the impact of the werewolfs strength still shook the monk to his core, this false god was frighteningly strong....but so was Xing Yi.

Western boxing? no god would ever use such a crude style.

Reeling off of the shoulder roll, Xing Yi bent his knees and sprung his tosro forward in an up diagonal position to strike with an elbow smash to the werewolf's jaw, and to follow up with a roaring spinning back kick with his rear foot (left). All while deactivating the iron shirt to make sure the attacks were at least twice as fast.

[Assistant]
Daniel saw the monk move as his fist flew. His icy punch impacted the monk's shoulder, obviously, and he felt his ice splinter and crack against his defenses. He drew his arm back and shook ice crystals from his fist.

Clever.

The monk said something about boxing being a crude style and he was actually inclined to agree, had the monk not then reared his body backwards with his right elbow extended. A blow easy enough to avoid, Daniel simply leaned backward and let the elbow sail right by his face with no issue.

The monk recovered from that quickly enough and he used his momentum to twist around on his right foot, spinning counterclockwise as his left leg shot up in what should be a backwards kick.

Daniel took a step back and waited in that split-second moment. The monk pivoted swiftly on his right foot, all pretense of defense gone, and swung around, his left leg chopping downward through the air as it swang a wide arc around him.

He gripped his sword tighter. That was his moment.

As the monk's kick reached its zenith, he angled his right arm into a right angle, sword gripped tightly. People in spinning kicks were stationary targets. He took a step forward, reared his arm back and, just as the monk's kick swung downward, he thrusted his arm forward in a stab, jabbing his sword right at the monk's gut.

Unless he was also made of elastic, this wasn't easily dodgeable.

[User]
Xing Yi was fairly shocked at the werewolf's martial arts, but it didn't matter, while fast he wasn't as graceful, not as disciplinced just a beast with unholy powers he was not a true martial arts expert like Xing Yi was, he was not prepared for the shaolin. However he did manage to dodge the elbow strike and use a back step counter to dodge the back kick as it came around, of course during the whole attack Xing Yi's mind was fully aware of where the werewolf was, even with his back turned to to him he could feel the postion of any living creature and it this range was able to feel more specific movements as they were happening, no attack would catch him totally off guard.

The Werewolf had opted to stab him as his leg came round, Xing Yi launched the kick with perfect form but it was not able to reach its target, however the monk was far from defenseless, the monk was as comfortable and stable as a spin kick as a normal man would be sitting in a hammock, the werewolf had not accounted for the monk's arms still wrapped in the magic phoenix material. Xing yi swung his left forearm down and to the side as he turned to parry the blade that was aimed for his stomach.

The collision of magical metal made a satisfying cling! It was a pleasant enough noise to help the monk forget about his fairly large yet surface wounds on his chest and leg as his skin was still leaking small amounts of blood. None of this mattered, the werewolf was directly inf front of him. With the sword out of the way and parried, Xing's foot landed next to the opponents right side after the kick, Xing used the stepping momentum to throw a a heavy and lightning fast karate punch from the hip his hand twisting as it shot towards the Wolf directly in front of him, all the while keeping his left forearm ready to guard again. Even a god would feel this.

[Assistant]
He felt the parry travel up his arm, the noise loud and frankly quite cool in the silence of the hallway.

The monk was real damn fast, he'd give him that, but no amount of training beat experience in situations like this.

His sword was parried away to the right, forward momentum changed into sideways momentum that he used to his advantage. As he let his body twist with the parry, he saw the monk's left fist rocket out from his hip, a lightning fast punch that he needed to counter quick.

With his momentum, he had a split second idea.

He used his sideways spin to his advantage. In a moment he'd switched the grip on his katana from forehand to backhand. He twisted around clockwise, lowering his body as low as he could go to avoid the straight punch. He felt it whizz over his back as he pivoted on his left foot. Once he made it most of the way around, he held up his sword, blade pointed at the monk's chest. Right hand gripped tightly round the hilt, left hand cupped round the hilt's base for leverage.

His left foot was replaced by his right during the spin as he turned to face away from his opponent. Then his left replaced his right again as his right side faced the monk.

His right foot took a step forward, inside the monk's guard. The second time of the fight.

Then he used the rest of his momentum to shove his blade sideways, using his left hand to push the sword quickly towards the monk, aiming the stab at the middle of his torso.

[User]
Xing was bleeding and in a fair amount of pain but inside his warrior spirit he was happy, he was at home. This is where Xing wanted the fight to be, up close and personal, this is what he trained 60 years for, he was an endless monk, there was no way he could be upset with a martial arts fight, even if he was now probably fighting for his own life. The karate punch missed, the werewolf span lowto pivot underneath the attack and countered with a backwards sword thrust. Xing Yi had probably seen this attack 1000 times during training at the temple, and this was why he kept his left hand ready to guard. He swung his left forearm in front of his own body and once again heard the blade clash with his magical gauntlets, it was a beautiful thing.

He then followed it up seamlessly now finding his rhythm with the beats who was ducked low in front of him to drive the elbow of his right arm that just threw the punch right into the werewolf's back, and to follow up that with a rising right knee, hopefully to catch the beast in his chest or his chin.

All thing's considered, I will admit I'm having fun.

[Assistant]
As the monk's bracer covered arm deflected his blade, he saw him raise up his right arm to bring it down hard against his back. There wasn't any avoiding this so he let the hit come. Besides, there was an advantage to being on the floor.

The elbow smacked right onto the meat of his back, sending him down towards the ground. However, as the monk foolishly swung his knee upward for what he presumed was to be a knee to the face, all he did to avoid it was to shift and turn over to the left slightly, since he was mostly on the floor at that point with his right side facing the monk.

A moment was all it took for Daniel to switch the grip on his katana from backhand to forehand, and he used the monk's raising knee as a point of weakness. With a flick of his wrist and a raise of his right arm, he brought his sword up between the monk's legs, the blade aimed for the bottom of his right thigh, near the back of the knee joint. The blow was angled slightly with a shift of his wrist so that the blade would cut perpendicular to the rising knee and, though light, had the momentum of his wrist flick behind it and would cut deep from how sharp the sword was.


[System]
Alias: Wetland Wanderer

Age: 24, give or take a few centuries

Gender: M

Race: Human

Primary Skills*: Guns, Unarmed, Barter

SPECIAL*: 33
Strength: 4
Perception: 7
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 7
Luck: 5

Gear/inventory:

* .44 Magnum (45)
* Lever Action Rifle (38)
* Combat Knife
* Drifter Outfit
* Radaway (x4)
* Nuka Cola
* Purified Water
* Stimpak (x3)

History: Carver was born in Jacksonville, Florida 23 years before the bombs fell to a family of mixed Celtic and Seminole heritage. His father worked in a steel mill and his mother worked as an attorney for the Mayor of the largest city in Florida. They never had the money to send him to college, and Carver had been working odd jobs since he was 15. The list includes bag boy, courier, zoo attendant, Karate instructor, deli worker, and now Everglades tour guide. For nearly 3 years, Carver was a freelance guide, being paid for the service of taking tourists out and viewing the Florida wilds up close. He came home for his vacation, spending a few weeks with his folks who had him sign up for the ridiculous 'Vault' idea. He was to head back to Brandon the next day when the bombs fell. He and his family made it in just in time. He was frozen in Vault 189.
Next thing he knew, his capsule opened and he fell out, coming face to face with an armed Ghoul who hid behind another capsule. Both seemed surprised to see one another, and after some convincing on the Ghouls part that he wasn't dreaming, he was given a gun. They both managed to dispatch the three raiders that had been chasing the Ghoul, which had led him inadvertently into the Vault, scrambling to find a button to close himself in, which instead opened up Carver's capsule. Unfortunately, the gunfire broke the opening mechanism, leaving his family frozen indefinitely.
He began to travel with his new companion, Chek, a heavily armored ghoul with a shotgun who almost never spoke. They traveled all along the gulf, and after a year of surviving fights against raiders, mutants, and even a super mutant or two, they found themselves back in North Florida.

[User]
Ezekiel nodded in response to the woman's final address and to the mutant taking his leave. Returning to the bar he grabbed a bottle of vodka, paid for by the woman of course, and left quietly to find a dark corner he could catch some sleep in. Dimming all of his equipment, he settled his armor in a more comfortable slouch and fell asleep within minutes.

The gentle sound of music bubbled up inside Ezekiel's helmet as it prodded him awake. After a short time, he bagan the rigorous field boot of his armor and dragged his armor out of the slouch he had slept in. After stretching out a little, he took stock of his surroundings and determining that he was alone, he decided to wash. Opening up his armor and peeling himself out the back of it took some effort after being inside of it for two days straight. He stripped off the bodysuit and began washing. A few minutes later after having done some extra stretching, he wiped out his suit and got back into the armor.

As he arrived at the meeting place, he heard the sound of a burst water valve and wondered what had happened. After a few moments he spotted the mutant next to some structure appearing to relieve himself and the puzzle was solved. Standing nearby he turned away and waited for the rest of the expedition to arrive.

[Assistant]
Carver couldn't hide his smile at Joshua's response. He was making a joke, but the Super Mutant seemed to think he wasn't. He was more intelligent than the rest of his kin that Carver had met and survived against. He stood back from then on, listening to the Paladin and the Super Mutant converse, only ever seeing a Paladin once before near the southern parts of Old Georgia and very curious as to why one was here. The most knowledge he had about their Order was from stories and what Chek would tell him if he ever deigned to give stories of his time up north.

He agreed to meet in the morning, and he did exactly that. Of course, after he and his armored companion shared a free drink thanks to their business patron. "Looks like this is just a kill mission for the most part." Carver said to Chek. The Ghoul nodded, taking a swig of his drink. They didn't need to speak more of it. Both knew this was their specialty and they were glad to get a paying job for it. In the back of his head however, Carver was glad that they were going deeper into his old homeland. Maybe it hadn't been fucked up too much.

The next morning, Carver met the rising sun with a cool reserve. Chek stood vigil by him, his shotgun in his hands already and giving the other party members a leveled gaze. He was tall and muscled for a Ghoul, and always had other refugees wary when he walked by. Carver kind of enjoyed the looks Chek would get.

[User]
Sam cocked an eyebrow at the three who had interfered in her negotiations. The first one, some lab experiment of a creature looking half ghoulish and half human seemed to decline the extra caps for no particular reason. The insane hunter from before, possibly crazed from radiation sickness, argued for the original expense with a series of mission expenses despite the fact that it had already been apart of the deal and thus demanded less money on the whole. The third was possibly the worst, Carver was wishy washy and could go either way on the price. Sam mentally noted the three of them as morons, making plans to stay as far away from them as she could until the mission was done with. Someone who was poor with their caps did not have the survival instinct in place to keep themselves alive and put those around them in danger. She nodded at Victoria at the acceptance of her barter, despite her weakened position from the three dullards. She had expected some sort of counter offer, despite what this woman said it seemed that she truly was in desperate need of assistance to hand over so many credits for one excursion. The super mutant known as Joshua gave her a nod of respect due to her bartering on his behalf. Sam returned the gesture in kind, the mutant seemed to be quite capable, intelligent, and had smashed the glowing ghoul which had done quite a lot to alleviate her concerns. Besides it always paid to be friendly with the hulking behemoth carrying a rocket launch in a dangerous situation... possibly many social ones as well now that she thought about it.

She chatted around some with the locals about some of the previous expeditions that had entered Florida both before and after the GECK activated, but to no surprise found nothing about her family. There was nothing more she wished to say to her fellow volunteers until morning so went back into her room to works on repairing a minor issue in her rifle. Even though it was a small issue, those small degrees of care and preparation were often the difference between a successful scavenger and a dead scavenger. When she was completed, she slept for the rest of the night before heading to the meeting place. She gave the group a collected nod and knelt down to ensure that the contents of her pockets and bag were all secure and ready for her to transport comfortably while she waited for Victoria.

[Assistant]
The old man after disappearing from the drinking establishment wakes up in his tent the next morning, which lies at the meeting place with three dead brahmin and one radscorpion husks decomposing outside of it, the old man sees the corpses after exiting the tent, almost tripping up over three sacks of brahmin and radscorpion meat next to a burnt out fire on the way to a stump.

"Was I drunk or having another episode?" Lewellyn groggily asks himself, just realising the others standing around the same area. "How long have you lot been there? We signed on to destroy a Gecko didn't we? Oh wait it was a GECK, found the place they tested those creation kits in five years ago... Utterly spectacular..." Lewellyn blurts out, taking a seat on the nearby stump while trying to remember what happened beyond the ghoul's head exploding. Ol' Com lies beside the stump, sleeping away with a teddy bear near him.

[User]
Eventually John made it to the area as well. He was certainly late, and his labcoat was covered in dried blood.

"What? You thought I wouldn't come?"

He had heard so much about these GECKs, the best of pre-war technology, and seeing the one device behind all these rumors and stories was something he couldn't leave behind.

[Assistant]
Victoria's eyebot shook itself side to side to indicate it was not the red witch. It then sent a package of data to Slag explaining that the Red witch was about to undertake a mission. As an enclave operative, Slag should come along. Details about the Geck and where to meet up were included. Slag was on his own until morning when the group departed. Then the eyebot turned and floated away cheerfully.

---------------

Victoria awoke with a start. The feeling of something being wrong woke her from a fairly pleasant dream. If she had not gain enough to realize she was dreaming she might have not realized something was wrong. She looked over from her bed at the prewar alarm clock across the room. Its gears were stuck showing 2:34 am, but the first rays of daylight could be seen breaking the horizon. She gets up and walks over to the broken device. Without warning she grabs a bat and smashes the alarm clock into a thousand pieces. "Worthless piece of junk." Victoria exclaimed. Her eyebot beeped a scared sounding series of beeps. Victoria turned to it and smiled, "Oh you are fine. Though you are once again on alarm clock duty. Now, lets go prepare."

Victoria did a light jog from her room to the meeting place by the city gates. There was already a decent crowd. Victoria cursed under her breath. Some leader she was to be late to such an important meeting. She may just have lost the respect she might have gained from her initial hiring speech. She made it to the group and said, "Sorry, I am late. I had business to attend to. Now, we have a good long march south along the I-75. I hope you all are ready. We will spend a night under the stars and if all goes well we reach the place that is to be our outpost by noon tomorrow."

[User]
Joshua largely ignored the others as they appeared at the meeting place. Just as Lewellyn emerged from his tent, the large mutant buttoned up his pants again and stepped aside from the old pre-war power line pole he had been using to relieve himself. A fair amount of time later and the old drunkard that offered to heal people had arrived. Joshua ignored the human's inquiry and took a seat an equal distance away from all the others. A couple minutes later and their employer arrived, a little late.

"Sorry, I am late. I had business to attend to. Now, we have a good long march south along the I-75. I hope you all are ready. We will spend a night under the stars and if all goes well we reach the place that is to be our outpost by noon tomorrow."

"It's good you showed up when you did. We were about to hold you to your word and leave late arrivals behind. It would have been an interesting adventure, having nobody pay us and no idea where to go." Joshua let out a hearty laugh and stood up, slinging his Red Glare rocket launcher over his shoulder and readjusting his oversized backpack. Everything about his body language said that he was ready to go.

[Assistant]
"Mutant, you ain't funny, I have heard a Protectron tell a better joke... then again I did see another one pleasure a man in the Commonwealth... How the hell he managed to smuggle it to the Commonwealth from New Vegas is a mystery better left a mystery." Lewellyn states, then dwells upon a weird day for him involving raiders, Fisto, a thief and the whole of Bunker Hill during a rad storm. "Anyway, no sense dwelling on a diplomatic disaster you are worse then Ol'Com here with waking up I bet Miss... Boss... Madame? What the hell do we call you again except Eyebot magnet?" Lewellyn asks, trying to focus on the present, then dwelling on what a Goodsprings resident had told a trader Lewellyn was having a pleasant conversation on over some scotch.

"Maybe witch instead? You managed to charm me into this from my own marvellous hunt... Read of a political figure called Mike Hunt in an advert now I'm reminded, he was up against a bloke called Dick Wraith and Wayne Kerr in old world politics..." Lewellyn drones on, going off in a tangent and just quietly going on about what he's read, heard and experienced.


[System]
"Our relationship is strictly business. Nothing more, nothing less."
Age:
24
Sex:
Female
Height:
5'7" – 170cm.
Weight:
132lbs – 60kg
Role:
Anselmo Ranger
Skills:
Survival Expert - Growing up in an Outpost Village has equipped Spook with the abilities to subsist and live in the Outlands.

Concealed Weapons Expert - Spook has done extensive training with SMGs and pistols, rendering her used to their recoils and firing patterns.

Duelist - A virtuoso in swordplay, Spook is highly experienced with sharp, handheld weapons. Namely swords and knives.
Weaponry:
Monomolecular Sword – A single-edged sword, designed to prove that the blade is still a valid weapon in today's world. Theoretically, it can cut through anything. In practice, it can cut through a lot of things, but concrete is about it's limit.

Fusilaut 113 - A PDW designed after the Apocalypse, it's lightweight and internally suppressed to hide someone's presence in the field. Suppressor technology has not advanced to total silence and is still quite loud.

M2271 "Nailgun" – The workhorse of handguns, the M1911, has been reinvented following the Apocalypse. While bulkier, the M2271 has proved cost efficient to produce and beyond reliable, much like it's predecessor.
Equipment:
Traveler's Cloak - A thick, black and yellow cloak that's resistant to most types of weather. Provides great insulation against the cold.

Breathing Apparatus - A gas mask that covers the entire head, protecting Spook's identity. Provides protection against harmful gasses, radiation, and whatnot.

Leatherbound Journal – A simple journal bound in brown leather, complete with a clasp on the side. It is assumed that there's also some kind of writing implement to go with it.
Backstory:
Spook has given this as her straightest response to her history.

She was born in the outpost village of West Stonewall to a Seer of a mother and a Guardian for a father. She grew up with a rough start which made her adapt to the life of the wilderness, which explains her pension for doing exceptionally well in survival scenarios. She went to school with a small group of seven other kids, they were all really close. This was confirmed by one of the other survivors of the town, Damien Wiel. They used to go on hunts together in their teenage years. It was during one of these hunts that she was disfigured, which explains why she wears the mask. If it's as bad as she's described it, it's understandable why she wears it.

Moving on, she says she came to Anselmo following the destruction of West Stonewall by two bear-like beasts. She's described the attack in great detail. She had been washing the dishes after her family had eaten dinner as the ground started to shake. She rushed to the window to find what was essentially two giant, furry lumps coming over the horizon, and she knew immediately what was happening. She ran to grab one of the guns the family kept in the house, which ended up being the Jericho she still has to this day, found everyone, and took off running. Due to the fact that it was an outpost village, there were only two casualties in the attack, though it was still an experience for something that large to come after your livelihood. Some of the refugees left for other villages to either warn the inhabitants or find new places to live. The rest, obviously including Spook, made a pilgrimage to Anselmo and integrated into the city almost seamlessly. Most of the survivors became either Guardians or Rangers. She was sixteen at the time.

She took a job in a bakery for four years until the execution of a convicted witch by the name of Victoria Reikarn. This employment was confirmed by Syphax Aquilus, owner of the establishment, and he said he was sad to see her go. Why she chose to become a Ranger then is unknown, maybe her wanderlust had kicked in at twenty, or maybe she had a hunger to return to the outlands where she had once lived. Quite frankly, we don't care though. She's done exceptional work in the field so far, and we have every intention to hang onto her.

A note on the execution, she was just as transfixed by the loss of life as everyone else present, though she seemed oddly quiet given the atmosphere of a party.

One thing stands out in particular about a single mission, she was the lone survivor of something. All the Rangers got for a report was that something terrible descended on the group and she was powerless to stop it. She's refused to tell more on the matter and walled herself off for about a week before she went back into the field.

Beyond this, all there is is rumors. One states that she slaughtered an entire village of Wild Ones that posed a threat to an outpost, another says that she saved part of the Port District from a pack of rabid dogs. One even says she exposed several corrupt politicians in the Civil District, and while they turned out to be taking bribes, there's no evidence connecting her to the case. One thing is for sure, though. She's seen as a paragon by the people, despite coming across as a pariah.
Wish:
To reclaim the wilderness and send the Other back to the Other.
Trauma:
Watched helplessly as her old team was killed by a terrible monster. She's become even more silent than usual since then.

[User]
Isis Nasri

Indeed, the best thing to do right now was to wait and observe, she knew a lot about that, after all, she was a scout.
Isis could only watch. There were an unbelievable amount of Wild Men. Much more than she had ever seen before. They were practicing some kind of complex ritual, with big totems, monster parts & etc. She couldn't see very well what was happening due to the sheer number of wild men that were there, but it seemed to be some type of sacrificial ritual.

"I hate to use these..." she said to herself, reaching for a pocket on her stealth suit and grabbing her special night/thermal goggles. They would be able to zoom in enough to make her see things better.

"Its... Unbelievable!" she said, changing it to normal vision.

"There are so many wild men down there that the thermal vision shows only a big orange circle..." she said, still finding it hard to believe in what she was seeing.

The first thing that caught her interest when she zoomed in though, was that the pillar of light was... somehow absorbing blood. The blood from the sacrifices were literally being drawn to it, like a magnet.
To make things worse, the sacrifices weren't clean or painless, but exactly the opposite. They were gruesome and lengthy. Despite that, all the sacrifices seemed to walk to their death willingly. Going as far as enduring the pain and standing still during the act.

"What is that?" she whispered to herself, not believing what she was seeing. She could only sit and watch.

"Are they... feeding the pillar with blood? What is happening?" she asked, trying to understand that bizarre scene.

Isis was still speechless when Jake said for them to move closer. The pillar of light had faded already, and the wild men were leaving. On the center of the crater, a strange obsidian monument stood there.

"I... I wont lie to you guys... I'm still trying to understand all this..." she said, with a smile on her face.

"I know I shouldn't be like that... But its so freaking exciting! I'm so curious!" she said, with an almost childish glow on her eyes.

Oddly enough, it was an obsidian statue, and not a meteorite. Having around 30 meters, the statue was simply too big to be made by the wild men, and the crated was proof that that thing came from above. Perhaps the strangest thing was that it had the image of a dragon. And amongst all the monsters that were invading Anselmo, dragons weren't one of them.

"Ok... I have no idea on what the hell is this!" she said, getting closer to the statue, almost touching it as she jumped around it, inspecting every nook and cranny of it. Bastet was also rather curious about it, but instead of getting close to it like Isis, she was walking around it, sniffing the ground near it. Ironically enough, Bastet seemed to be more cautious than Isis herself.

"Its awesome isn't it?" she said, noting the many weird aspects of that statue.

"Are you feeling the same thing as me? I feel like this thing is attracting me. No! Its not just my curiosity, I mean literally attracting me, almost like its pulling my body to it." she said, looking to her own reflex on the stone obelisk. Her own reflection was just standing there, in front of her, almost like it was calling her to touch it, extending her hand.
It wasn't only her own curiosity. There was something very, very strange with that stone. Maybe if it was another person, they wouldn't have touched it, but Isis' natural curiosity to the statue made it impossible for her to resist.
Isis simply walked forward, slowly extending her hand to touch her own reflection. Now that Isis was almost in the same pose as her 'reflection' the black obsidian felt almost like a dark mirror, reflecting her image perfectly, both the reflection and herself with their hands extended, touching the stone.

[Assistant]
Rig couldn't see well what was going on down there. He had no way of zooming in on the details, but from the words of his group he was pretty okay with it. He wouldn't have enjoyed the grisly scene anyways. As things died down, and the crowd began to disperse Rig still had no words. He honestly felt quite small from this whole situation. The people who were his teammates seemed more acclimated to the situation, then there was the sheer size of the wild-men group, and of course the unearthly light/obelisk.

As they descended in surprising safety down to the thing, Rig felt his skin electrify and his guts churn. The air was thick with this thing. Whatever it was, it carried more life in it than any stone Rig had heard of. There wasn't a massive amount of detail in it's form, and yet it's gravity outstripped that. This thing was defined like a knife in this world, cutting it's way into it. It was smooth and glossy, yet felt almost sharp and coarse. More than tangible it drew them in, and yet it felt so otherworldly and non-existent.

"Yeah I do machines not spooky dragon rocks, i'm keeping my distance."

He stood back, despite the obvious tug towards the thing. His sense of self-preservation and ties to this world, kept him making a bubble between that. That...thing. He sighed through his teeth, standing near Bastet. Nervous about it, yet preferring the hellbeast over the dragon stone. He looked back just in time to see Isis touch the stone, and even before what came next his heart dropped.

Why would she do that?

[User]
Pulling out his scope he looked down into the crater, rather disgusted by what he saw. It wasn't that he cared about the Wild Men, he didn't see why he should, but rather at the brutality they were using towards their false idols. It sickened him. He began to wonder if this is what it truly was like back in the ancient times because the longer he stared the more he felt like it was.

"If any of you don't mind I would much rather keep pressing on..." He suggested until Jake told them to wait to which he shook his head.

"Fine..." A grimace met his mouth as he continued to look down into the crater. Some of the others spoke up, with Matt sarcastically suggesting hookers without a condom was safer than going towards the massive obsidian like structure to which Nathan chuckled and nodded.

"Heheh yeah, while playing Russian roulette. I saw if we survive this we give Russian roulette a try, might bring us back from the insanity, heheh." Nate quipped. As they neared it the hair on Nathan's back began to stand, he could feel it through the skin and it seemed the Duvari he was on could feel it too as it started to seem a bit skittish. But as they neared it Nathan looked up at it. It was massive, beautiful in design but with such an eerie presence he dared not go near it and mostly everyone agreed, save for Nasri. As she grew close, Nate bolted for Nasri.

"Goddammit don't touch it!" As he moved in for he extended his arm out in an attempt to grab her and move away.

[Assistant]
Jake gave the order to move in on the center of the crater, to which Spook answered by drawing her PDW and descending in ahead of the others. As she got closer and closer, she could feel the energy radiating off of the statue... it felt familiar, almost like a comfortable bed coaxing a weary traveler into a restful sleep. She could tell though, that the metaphorical bed had nails propped up under the comforter. "Guys, I'm telling you, I have a very bad feeling about this." Her right hand flexed around the grip of her gun, index finger pressing into the side of it to avoid accidentally spraying down the crew.

As they got even closer, the feeling of welcoming dread only grew stronger, like it was trying to get Spook to expose something about herself. Given the origin of the obelisk, she knew what it wanted, and she felt determined to do anything but give it the satisfaction. The conversation about stupid stuff people would do before touching the thing came up, and the enigma felt the need to contribute by taking her sidearm in her left hand, lowering the Fusilaut and facing Nate. "We can play that with my Jericho, long as someone else goes first." A grim chuckle sounded as she dropped the handgun back into its holster, sealing with a click around it. She then turned back around and looked at the black, glassy statue in time to see her copy staring back at her.

In eerie silence, it reached up to its face and started pulling at straps, removing the gas mask that covered her face and revealing the mystery of what lies below. Underneath was a girl with green eyes, beautiful brown hair, and a soft, unmarred face, to which Spook felt the need to lower her weapons. She couldn't tell why, but the reflection was influencing her somehow, like it wanted her to own up to something. She had an idea of what, though she wasn't about to. In response, she simply shook her head, though the action directed her eyes to Isis' hand, currently in contact with the rock. A level of fear gripped her heart as the realization came of what the contact could carry, and something just barely purple flared underneath her mask. "ISIS NO!" She reached out to grab her elbow and pull her away.


[System]
Appearance:

Age: 15
Personality: Yeshua is far from outgoing in his nature. He is not quiet and quite parsimonious with his beliefs, almost to the point beyond reason. He values and observes a much bigger picture than some people realise, often letting him feel detached or pity those who he spends time with. He is quick to judge and often feels no guilt, but takes a keen responsibility for other people's problems, that can lead him to be viewed as either extremely polite or extremely irresponsible. The boy has many opinions which he isn't afraid of sharing, and if Yeshua feels he has been treated unjustly, will not stand for it.
Motive to live: To change his inert feeling that humanity cannot be more than just mindless apes.

Background:

Yeshua (born Joshua) was the child of Otto Horowitz, a mildly famous biologist working in the most prestigious parts of the most rich system. His mother was never mentioned to him and without someone to care for him in the home, he often spent his time alone or on the wild webs of the internet. In his father's absence, the boy grew up without influences and soon grew suspicious of him. At the age of 11, he felt the repercussions of the war when his father kept coming home from work less frequently and even more tired. He was pushed to the edge, and Joshua felt it. Taken away from his father, the boy lived in the countryside of the harsh mountains with his grandmother. Away from society, the boy could read and write, and so he did for as long as he could.

His grandmother was fond of him but held back by her principles. When he wanted to leave her and find his father, no help was given. Joshua knew he could not leave in such an isolated area and did not want to live his entire life as a farmer, as his grandmother was. He grew skeptical. He could see the convoys of military transports passing through the mountains, knowing times grew more desperate every hour. His grandmother, parent to not his father, but his mother, gave him the King James Bible and with it, in his adolescence, he studied with as much determination his father had. The wild swathes of books that had been laid out for him was not simply a mere collection by his elder; it was a gift from his father. How else could he teach Joshua the wonders of the universe?

In the middle of the night he sneaked out, only 14. The cold of the mountainside was nothing to him, as he was determined to find his father and ask him all the questions had developed in his mind. Making his way to the small village of Ungarbt, Joshua realised that he was so lost. Trying to solve these problems by himself was too difficult for him, so he went to the local police station. This is when the news struck him; his grandmother had died of a heart attack after realising he was gone.

Without any relatives and still no idea where his father was, he was sent to the one of the further-out planets, near the brewing battlefront against the Cruxi. This family was a branch of modern Judaism (they called themselves Torahts) and he learnt so much from them. It was amazing to see things from a different point of view in a different planet. His questions became more fruitful but in turn his family became to spite him, with his constant criticism that undermined their faith. In the evacuation of the planet after it was attacked, Joshua lost contact with his family in the chaos, panicking and afraid.

Hiding in a hospital building, the Cruxi drew closer. A Framework of extreme calibre attacked and saved him from the aliens, allowing him to escape onto a shuttle. This change of heart (and name), and later learning his foster family was nowhere to be seen, drove him to apply to the Framework programme. Maybe this time he could find the answers he seaked; what it meant to be human, alive and breathing.

Notable Deaths: He fears his father is dead, as long as his grandmother, his foster family and his mother.
Other things: His eyesight requires eyesight but he is clearly against it, as he thinks he can survive without the need of degrading technology. He wears contacts.

Framewerk Code Name: Anzû
Appearance:

Signature Weapon System: A large, high accuracy rifle that can shoot rather quickly, deal heavy amounts of damage but takes a long time to reload and has to be inserted manually. It energises its large, alloy slugs in a MAC chamber before firing them, piercing almost anything.

Secondary Weapon System: Two powerful flamethrowers are on each hand.
Armor Type: The frame is rather light but has some powerful armoured plates at the front protecting its limbs; on the back and at its joints it is rather exposed, while the actual plates are a shining white and covered in a protecting layer of synthesized plastic.
Special Ability: TBA

Synch Rate: 91%

[User]
Miles was challenged by the battle weary looking young man with the Russian name. He gave a short speech about how the group need to act like military unit and seemed to get the support of a few of the younger pilots in the group. Miles tuned most of it out, his already short attention span was being tested by his unwillingness to listen to authority.

If you all want to hug and kiss on the battlefield while the cruxi flank us, then thats your issue. Whether or not you stay out of each others way is irrelevant to me but you WILL stay out of my way.

Miles' cold eyes fixed on Stukov for a moment. He knew this young man was an excellent pilot and his Framewerk was very impressive, Miles blood boiled with the excitement of competetion as he clenched his fist, but remained very still and collected. He took note of the pilots discussing formations and pair ups for the upcoming fight. Miles acknowledged Ryan Goodwell as he spoke up and wondered what the Macarbe Framewerk would be like in battle. He once again cleared his throat to speak.

I'm not apposed to the idea of pairs for the initiation though. More experience under any circumstance is for the best. The Caliburn pilot would be a good match for me and the Komodo I think.

Miles looked at Lora and nodded very subtly as a sign of respect.

[Assistant]
Lora had to suppress a sigh at the hostility and differences that were already brewing between the pilots present. It was as to be expected from individuals whom had each been trained separately, then expected to come together in due time. Already, too, the personal natures behind each of them were starting to cloud judgement - Miles was acting like an uppity, self righteous cynic, and the young boy, Romeo, was absolutely certain that these pilots would not be fighting each other. Elora seemed understandably nervous, given how she piloted Framewerk that was for the most part a support asset, but she too seemed quite desperate to get some support of her own in the upcoming battle.

"Miles, was it?" Lora piped up in the interlude after the determined Stukov chewed him out, "I'm not agreeing with Stukov, but let me say you should learn better. Fight to live, rather than live to fight." With a judgmental glint in her eyes, Lora stared at Miles a moment longer before returning attention to the group as a whole. How much of that Miles heard was his own problem.

"As for us all-" The female pilot began again, drowning out Elora's last few mumbles, "We're all clearly at an impasse, talking about what we think is going to happen once we step in our Framewerks." Lora was no exception herself, and so she made sure she included herself in the broad gesture she assembled. "Yeshua has a proper point. Before we go any further, let's go over what we all know to be true. "Firstly, we are all exceptional young pilots individually trained to be the best humanity has to offer, being brought together for training for how to act as a team. In less than an hour, we will be entering a battle that shall, through some unknown factors, determine which of us will become the leader of this future team. And when we each enter that combat zone, no one of us will do any less than their best."

Satisfied at her speech, Lora crossed her arms and took a sweep of the group with her vision, judging reactions. "Can we all agree those things are certain?" Following a few lines of discussion, Lora caught Miles giving her a subtle, knowing nod, a curt smile barely forming at his lips.

He knew well of her and Caliburn, Lora presumed - everyone here who had read the briefings of each pilot had to be aware of Caliburn's combat potential. The Framewerk pilot allowed her mind to wander a bit. Caliburn was undeniably fearsome, considering its full arsenal. In the battle to come, it was quite possible that a couple of the pilots would think to mark her as a first target, perhaps coming to a brief agreement amongst one another to gang up. She knew better than to predict the outcome of a battle before it happened, but from the some of the looks she was getting, it seemed likely that Caliburn was being marked as a major threat.

Lora threw a sidelong glance to Elora, and when her young eyes next came into the older pilot's vision, she gave a quick, inverted nod of recognition, before turning back.

[User]
Koehler began speaking again as everyone else stopped, at Lora, he simply said: "Uhh. Okay? I guess.", scratching his chin. Well, that was simple. He noticed Elora in distress, and his 'instincts' began to kick in. As the others began to talk again, he tried to maneuver so he was next to her. He stood next to her and whispered,

"...I'd like to be your team-mate. You seem okay. Your framewerk was the one with the little drones? Mine is the punchy one. So in the mock we'll try to... uhh... I'll attack the guys and you help me, and patch me up? That sounds okay." He examined the others. Lora was okay, and he liked her. she seemed nice. Why is she so... wordy, though? That Ryan Goodwell guy was cool too, He supposed.

...Why does everyone have to be so... talking? Just say what you mean and do it... All of these words were beginning to confuse Koehler, who decided to just shut up and see if he could team up with Elora. ...Why was Koehler teaming up with Elora? Just because she asked and she reminds him of his sister? That's... sort of fucked up, isn't it? Is it?

Dammnit, his mother (and his sister) always taught him to be nice to women. That's what he's doing, yeah. Yeah. He spoke to Elora again, "I like Alexei myself. I hope he's going to be leader. Do you like him? You don't have to like him...". Yeah, good, good, keep it easy to understand. His slurred words probably make him sound like a fucking idiot...

No. He's doing okay. The other people like him. Yeah they do, they like him plenty. He likes most of them! "Does... that sound okay, Elora?".

[Assistant]
Friendships were now forming. The room kept becoming smaller and smaller as everyone moved together. Yeshua was not claustrophobic, but sometimes he felt like he had the condition. Everyone seemed to instantly connect with one another either silently or verbally. It had been no more than five minutes and it seemed everything that needed to be said had been. There was a foul smell in the air; fear. He could tell there was an unease in even the most stoic of the teenagers, who would even deflect a bus if it drove at them. His mind drifted for a second to his first training session.

Mud, sweat and more mud. So much more mud. Mud was filling his shoes, it was filling his feet and his face. Crawling down in the depths of a swamp gave him inspiration enough not to suffocate but not enough inspiration to put any faith whatsoever in the people who were "training" him. He was told that no expedition into the unknown could be given without their authority. It scared him that, from the very beginning, they were breaking him down and not allowing him to think on his own.

It's a war. They have to -- they need soldiers. I volunteered. This is my own grave I've dug.

Yeshua decided it was time to add some more to the conversation. It could have been in futility, but it was better to get his word thrown into the mix than nothing at all.

"Thank you, Lora. I hope you've understood what I'm trying to say. We are not on "sides" here. We are trying, and we will, save the human race. If not, then all of this is in vain. He stopped himself from being too brisk. That would cause a negative impact on the group. Everyone seemed to favour what Alexei wanted to say; Yeshua found it a shame. He was far too restricted to lead a group properly, the boy thought. We should all assume that we are going to win; and win together. If we're done introducing ourselves, I think we should describe our Frameworks.


[System]
On Earth, Mikkel Vestergaard

Age: 28

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Desseabre comes up to a height of 5'11, an inch shy of 6 feet, middling within his Moon companions. He possesses the well toned body typical of a martial fighter, a product of his active service in his homelands defense force. Typically he sports a well groomed, full head of chestnut coloured hair with a clean shaven face. When in the barracks his attire consists of a pale brown t-shirt, military slacks and combat boots, relatively lax among his fellow servicemen. He stands with a confident posture, jaw jutting and shoulders leveled, appearing to always be attentive to his surroundings.

Orb Color: A Pale Purple
Class: Spell Fencer
Class Description: The spell fencer primarily utilizes a beautiful blend of magic and swordsmanship creating a physical and mental bond between his sword and soul, resulting in a value for their versatility in combat. Rather then using spells in an offensive matter, The Fencer enchants his weapon with his desired effect allowing him to strike with a composite of steel and arcane. Preferring to engage in close combat, Spell Fencers typically arm themselves in arcane defenses to properly undertake an anti-magic role.

Class Appearance: Encased in a steel cuirass, leather boots and gauntlets with a steel guard, the rest of his apparel sports deep brown cloth to free the arms and legs to accommodate proper mobility. Various magical runes are woven into the cuirass and decorative guards to protect against the arcane arts. Desseabre's attire are worn to keep a clean professional look to him, just like the rest of his visage. He holds a Flamberge Bastard Sword, which while inactive glows the colour of his orb.

Skills: Enchant Blade, Lvl.1: The Spell Fencer inscribes his blade with the basic elements of Fire, Water and Lightning for 10 minutes.
 Spell Shield: (Passive) After being hit with a magical ability, The Spell Fencer innately retaliates with a bolt of the opposing element, if applicable. If not, the offender is struck with pure arcane.

Cross Skills:[LOCKED]

Limit Break: [LOCKED]

Inventory:
Flamberge: Desseabre's sword of choice, he is never seen without it close at hand. It spans a total of 55 inches, with a wavy blade often likened to that of a flame.
A Steel Curiass, Leather Boots and Gauntlets: Desseabre has kept the parts of him vital to a swordsman clad, the rest is defended by blade.

OOC: As my rather low post count might bring upon suspicion in my validity to participate in this roleplay, my choice to participate was spurred by my friend Leslie Hall. I am a returning roleplayer, having not even attempted in the last 6 years to do so. I was also planning to develop a sentient sword for this character, perhaps with the orb enveloping my Flamberge. I'm not sure if the GM supports this, but I planned to write it in as my character developed anyway. When I wake up tommorow I'll employ proper formatting, and perhaps grammar.

[User]
The colossal mosquitoes came so quickly Saerena was still in mid sentence when she saw them. "Sure, a party sounds-". At the sound of buzzing Saerena glanced ahead to see a boy dressed in black running at the giant insects. At that Rosa was turned and preparing. Saerena drew her pistols, aiming at the approaching targets, and pulled the trigger...to no avail. She backed up behind Rosa, who already had her bat in swinging position. Quickly, she asked her orb "How do I use these?" The orange light responded Simple. Concentrate on the bullet. Not quite what you are used to, but you will figure it out. "Magnetism, then." Saerena watched as two targets began circling Rosa, and now Lance, in a wide flanking maneuver, waiting for an opening. She called to Rosa, "A party would be wonderful" as she focused on the bullet in her right pistol willing it forward. Suddenly the pistol kicked back, almost out of Saerena's hand, and the projectile went forward. The air around the gun crackled, electricity arcing out in random patterns. The nearest mosquito flanking Rosa was hit center mass, knocking it out of the air and sending it to the ground. Saerena took another six shots as it rose again, knocking it away but not doing lethal damage. By that time the second flanking mosquito had positioned itself between Rosa and Lance, and Saerena. Imagine the path of the bullet. It will act as you command. Saerena envisioned the bullet curving, aimed directly at Rosa, and 'fired'. The bullet curved, moving in a semi-circle to the mosquito, connecting, and knocking it away just before it struck.

Saerena was aware of battle raging around her. The skeletal figure launched a fireball at a nearby mosquito. Lance and Rosa had finished impaling a mosquito, then killing it through the magic of blunt trauma. The first man she saw, the one in all-white, had drawn his sword and had it knocked from his hands. Saerena instinctively dropped the goggles resting on her head over her eyes. The built-in rangefinder quickly estimated the energy needed to accurately hit the target, acting as an electromagnet and pulling the estimated energy from Saerena. She tried to turn this into a specific concentration of energy, slaking the electric pull and directing an equal amount into her hands. The bullets launched, following a straight path until gravity began to outweigh the magnetic range of Saerena's field. Although the bullet didn't connect, it did get the attention of the mosquito. Saerena fired a few more shots before turning to deal with another wave of mosquitos, leaving the man to fend for himself.

[Assistant]
People had obviously started to arrive and disappear, and that meant he was behind. Though Marcus had thought about doing whatever came up first alone and rogue, he was approached by a ridiculously dressed person.

"Hey there! How you doing! I'm Lance, apparently I'm a blue Ranger. So what do you make of this place?" He took the moment to look at this 'Blue Ranger'. He looked like someone had just thrown together some plastic and paint then put it all into one in a Washing Machine. Perfect, more clowns.

"Marcus..." He only said one name, as he intended on not hanging around this fool for long. He held out his hand and briefly shook the approaching 'Comrade'"Infiltrator...What do I think? I think that this place is odd, but my opinion isn't of your concern, which I decide when it is or isn't. Next time...Think about talking to someone who actually wants to have a conversation..." It was a rude approach, but that was what Marcus was. He was only rude due to his awful social skills. He had managed to finally build confidence to talk to people, though not to talk to them the entire way he wanted. It was true, he was not a great person in his own eyes. His reputation was as low as his own self-esteem.


[System]
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Vigilante Database>Centerville>Currently Active>Hotshot

Hotshot
Birth Name: Believed to be Richard Chang. Have yet to be validated.
Other alias: The Backburner, The Human Heater
Age: Believed to be 28 years old.
Gender: Believed to be male.
Notable affiliations: None that is known of at the moment.

Appearance: Hotshot is primarily known for his iconic yellow overall costume which spans the entire length of his body except for his hands, feet and head. While the dominating color of his costume is yellow, it has notable black and orange trims that run across the edges of his costume (Where his gloves, boots and headgear end). He also wears what appears to be costume heavy-duty gloves, boots and headgear. The make of his costume has yet to be identified but it is notable for being able to conduct heat that Hotshot produces naturally. Hotshot's face is completely concealed by his headgear. A large orange visor goes across the area where his eyes would be to provide vision.

Power(s): Heat manipulation. Hotshot is known to primary emit a field of heat around themselves which, at the most, is believe to extend an area of about five inches (12 centimeters) before dissipating. Hotshot uses this close-proximity "heat aura" by engaging in close hand to hand combat with their opponents. At this moment, the heat radiating from Hotshot incapacitates their foes by either direct contact or by gradual exposure to high temperature.

Hotshot has also been observed to use what can only be described as a heat blast. It is theorized that Hotshot can concentrate high temperatures towards specific points of their body and release the stored energy into a focused beam. This beam was observed to have a maximum temperature of 1500 degrees Celsius (2732 degrees Fahrenheit). However it is observed that Hotshot takes a considerable amount of time to focus and release the energy needed for a beam.

History: (Warning! This section has yet to be approved by moderators because of inconsistencies, unconfirmed details, eligible writing and/or etc. If you wish to help add to or improve this article, contact user Wheelerman23, the author of this page.)

Richard Chang was born in St. Jude's Hospital in June 23, 1994. Richard was born to the couple Spencer and Martha Chang. Martha passed during childbirth because of complications. Spencer Chang was forced to raise his son alone, refusing to remarry for personal reasons. Richard grew up without incident after. He developed an affiliation for sports at an early age according to later interviews with his father.

Later in life, Richard would receive full scholarship at the University of St. George for his notable American football skills. He enrolled for a Bachelor of Marine Sciences. He was notable in his batch for his athletic abilities, being voted the Most Valuable Player by his home team in 2011. He graduated with honors four years later.
In March 2, 2014, Richard was involved in the Mayflower Mall incident where a group of armed, superpowered criminals seized the malls and the people inside as hostages. One of the assailants, known by his alias as "Monsoon", had placed a firearm to Richard's head and used Richard as a Human shield. However seconds into the encounter, Monsoon had began to move in an erratic manner. Closer observation of bystander image shot during the confrontation would suggest Monsoon had blisters forming on his skin. Richard tackled Monsoon back into the mall property after which a large explosion was observed. Authorities who rushed to the site of the incident found neither evidence of Monsoon or Richard remaining. Authorities claim that Richard was deceased however his father, Spencer Chang, is adamant that he is still alive.

(The following information has been verified by multiple sources and has been approved by moderators.)

The first confirmed known activity of Hotshot was during the a conflict between superhuman criminal Commodore and law enforcement. While Commodore was engaging several police officers, an unknown individual at the time lept towards the assailant and made contact by pressing their hand against the back of Commodore's head. Commodore was observed to be flail his arms wildly at yet unknown individual at the time. However after a few minutes of struggling, Commodore was seen stumbling to the ground completely exhausted with a large red mark on the back of his head. The individual explained that Commodore would be in need to immediate rehydration but is otherwise unscaved. The figure left the scene before he could be questioned by authorities.

The individual that engaged Commodore was wearing the same yellow with black and orange trim that would become iconic of the superhero popularly named Hotshot. Hotshot is known to primarily engage superhuman criminals and only rarely non-superhuman threats. Attempts to question Hotshot has been met with silence. Current whereabouts of Hotshot is also unknown.

Alliance: Hero. Hotshot works for a NGO foundation that provides heroes daily necessities, lodging and additional payment if they are under their employment. This organization, known as the Global Defense Initiative Foundation, operates discreetly and avoids the attention of the public. Hotshot, who is indeed Richard Chang, has been employed by the GDIF ever since his reported demise at the hands of Monsoon.

[User]
Creep Bros
Location: At Kinko's straight flippin' copies

Soft footfalls lead away from the door. Raker waited until he was sure the coast was clear before he slithered out of the room. He'd fixed it back to make it look as though no one had been inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, gaining him the attention of the janitor as he vacuumed. The two exchanged brief glances.

"Hey what are you-," The man didn't finished his sentence before he cut himself off, his brows scrunching in confusion. The masked man walked right by him while he stood there, trying to remember what it was he was going to say. By the time the janitor recollected his thoughts, the Raker was long gone.

As Mindraker approached his new destination, his cohort was already waiting for him. The plain, black plastic of his mask stared blankly at him from under the black hood. Mask was crouching down in the shadows of an alley, hidden among the trash bags and discarded furniture. Mindraker approached and gave him a silent nod, and the man stood to follow him.

The two silently slunk through the dark, heading down an adjacent alley that lead into the better lit street. They stuck to the shadows, like two rats out of the sewer. Finally, they reached their destination. A...Kinko's? A strange front for villainy, that was for sure.

The office store was closed by now, the doors firmly locked. But that didn't stop Black Mask from teleporting them inside. They stood outside the glass doors, then in a blink of an eye and a bust of black smoke, they were on the other side of the glass. Raker slipped the files out of his hoodie and went to start up a copy machine while Black Mask glanced around for security cameras and/or guards.

The sound of several pages being copied and printed filled the shop as the two began to meander around, waiting for the machine to finish. Fresh ink and the smell of slightly mildewed carpet wafted through the air. Once Black Mask was certain that they were in the clear, he let his guard down to peruse the magazine rack that stood near the check out. He picked up one of the glossy gossip books and began to flip through the pages, offered only meager entertainment at best. $12.99? Who bought this shit?

[Assistant]
Douglas SongBest 8 Motel
Tea, fresh tea, brewed in a cheaply made and all too bland white plastic and glass little coffeepot. It was sort of a disappointment, but it was the best there was at the moment; wasn't as though he had a teapot and a stove, let alone fireplace and a steel kettle, but he did at least have boiling water and somewhere to drink it. It also helped that he had the tea itself, considering it was a luxury on a non-existent budget. In fact, all of his situation the lone man at the edge of the tiny bed was thankful for, even if it was ten years out of date and all off-white and equally garish honey oak furniture.

Pouring a cup carefully now, the pair of hands then garnished it with the bag itself, setting it aside after to steep. This was the morning routine, the ritual, tea first before all other things, though the entire "morning" matter was debatable. Rather whatever time he awoke this story played out just as it did in the same room in the same manner. It did not deviate, it did not change. The time of day certainly did, but paying the few bills that existed required a flexible schedule. After all, being paid by relieving petty criminals of their cash? Not all too efficient work. Sure, it was theft all its own, but maybe they would reconsider their decisions, perhaps better than a prison sentence would have offered.

Song did not really think too deep into the matter, instead only looking to the rising steam of the cup and where it sat upon the tabletop. Had his attention been allowed to drift, his mind to wander, he might not have noticed the face of the coffeepot itself being slightly off center. Still, not so much as shifting or interrupting his thought of no thought, a hand of his reached out to straighten little machine out; so subtle an adjustment that returned it to its rightful place.

"There." He said, speaking to no one but himself, nodding in approval.

It at last freed him to do as his work demanded of him, rather his moral compass. It was work itself, perhaps "good" work, perhaps not. What it was at this point was whatever it was, good and bad. However, there was no sense in staring down the steeping tea anymore now that he had resolved the issue and cleared his mind of its inner debates. In short order he dressed himself, having only devoted enough time to wash his face, give a brush of the teeth, and throw a jacket over the familiar white sweatshirt before he returned to the tea and sat down.

Between drinking it, sitting there at the edge of the bed, he emptied his mind. No room for anger, above all other things. That was the difficult one, especially knowing that in short order he would be on and out into the night, with the sole purpose of finding something constructive to do with it. It was tempting to find other means to say the least, the few intrusive thoughts he had, but they were all impulsive to him; Song wasn't just a "boy" anymore who could live that life. At least now he truly understood better, at the very least more lucidly, given the tea had come to replace alcohol. But the last cup had always been the most difficult.

Until he was out on the night, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him...


[System]
Murphy

32

Female

FBI Counterterrorism Division, Information Specialist

Defender > Attacker

In layman's terms, Desiree is a hacker. Give her just enough time and she'll almost always deliver. It shouldn't hurt to mention that she's a hell of a sharpshooter and has some knowledge in the art of Krav Maga.

Desiree carries an M-4 Carbine, a Glock as her sidearm, a multi-function tool, and her most important weapon: her laptop.

Desiree is a rather complicated character. She is impulsive, yet a meticulous planner. Such contradiction can be explained by the fact that she has OCD-like tendencies, and absolutely hates it when things don't go her way, thus sometimes displaying various degrees of outbursts. She could be described as having a "light switch" personality more often than not, therefore she's either ready to paint the town red, or drinking herself to near death in the couch of her single bedroom apartment home. Desiree can be social if the opportunity presents itself, but she's more of the loner type, a characteristic she hates because it confirms the stereotype that computer nerds are losers who have no friends.

Desiree was born and raised in a small town in Australia. Her mother died during childbirth due to unforeseen circumstances, and that led her to be raised by a single father who had barely any idea as to what to do with a newborn. Eventually, Desiree's father found his groove and helped her grow into the woman she is today. She attended private school up until the age of 10, when her father accepted a job offer in New York and they both moved there.
Even though Desiree had a large number of friends back in Australia, the move halfway across the world devastated her. In the blink of an eye, the young girl was living in a completely unfamiliar place, that which was hundreds of thousands time bigger than her small and quiet hometown. Such drastic change was overwhelming for the girl, and whenever her father was out working late nights, Desiree found comfort in the one thing she considered a true friend: her computer.
School was never an issue for Desiree. She always received good marks in all her classes and was even granted a couple of scholarships to a local university in the city. By that time, the young girl was more than skilled with a computer, and could very easily do just about any possible task one could come up with. Despite her lobby—or rather, lifestyle—Desiree pursued an education in Biology. To any stranger on the street it may seem somewhat unlikely, but she was actually very interested in working within the medical field, something that down the line, would never be achieved.
It was just before graduation that Desiree saw an advertisement for employment opportunities within the FBI. Desiree had seen plenty of cop movies to intrigue her enough to apply, and every time she cleared another hurdle in the application process, she surprised not only her father, but herself as well. After just over a year of going through the hiring process, Desiree was eventually accepted into the academy.
About a decade into her federal career, that which had thus far been filled with awards and recognition (unbeknownst to the public, of course) Desiree was contacted by a woman using codename Six who wanted to invite her to join her organization. The first thing Desiree did was confirm veracity, and soon thereafter she accepted. Because a decade's worth of training shouldn't just be thrown down the drain, Desiree was further offered another deal to act as a liaison between the FBI and Team Rainbow.
Additional training within Team Rainbow followed as her skills kept improving not only in the battlefield, but behind a computer as well. She was eventually dubbed "Murphy" because despite her marksmanship, Desiree had her fair share of clumsy moments, that which led others to bring up the topic of Murphy's Law. But despite that minor (and hilarious) setback, Desiree has more than settled with her routine despite the fact that the nature of her new job both excite and scare the living hell out of her.

[User]
Her short stature of 5'3 was ideal for Desiree to stand towards the back of their formation to remain invisible. She always preferred it that way as she wouldn't likely get called out for one reason or the other. But Tourè's speech was rather short, ending abruptly with a smart-ass comment. She cracked a smile, thinking to herself that she might just enjoy it there.

Desiree was the first one to break rank and hurry off to the G.M.D. Department after they were dismissed. Once there, she noticed Edwards was looking somewhat nervous. That wouldn't have been a red flag had he not been in a leadership position, but Desiree dismissed the thought and figured he was just dealing with some personal issues. She was the first one to approach him as the others were still making their way there.

"Desiree Monroe, Murphy, USA, member of the FBI Counter-terrorism Division." She stripped herself of her weapons as she spoke, unslinging her M-4 to place on the table between the two of them, then unholstering her sidearm to do the same. Desiree then felt around for her multi-function tool, smirking when she found it and placed in on the table as well. "Just in case," she shrugged, then reached around for her backpack to take out her laptop. "And this is where all the magic happens," she added, pushing the laptop to the center of the table. "You can have one of your IT guys check it out, or if you know these machines as well as I do, then it's all yours."

[Assistant]
Daniel was still cradling his rifle while getting his marching orders, to take his gear down to a drop point and have it check. He hoped they knew his tech wasn't allowed to be toyed with, GST didn't share there toys with anyone no matter the reason. He turned and stepped off to drop his equipment, more than anything he wanted a bunk he'd he was jet lagged and tired. He'd gone from his house at Fort Bragg to the airport then straight into a an overnight flight.

It had sucked, his transfer meant yet again his daughter was staying with his sister while he was off on a business trip. He hated lying to Katie he wanted to stay home and be a parent but being a soldier changed that, while this might not have been his usual gig he was going to do best he could. Finally arriving at the G.M.D. He laid his rifle on the table, speaking opening as he pulled off his sunglasses. "Daniel Matthews, Spectre, USA, special transfer." He added, knowing he wasn't allowed to talk about his work because it had never happened for all they were allowed to know he was mercenary.

"Don't touch the sights, just dialed them in before I left." He warned the clerk, before laying his sidearm on the table, next retrieving his drone. "Be careful with the little guy, he's worth more than I make in a year." He grinned setting the hover drone down on the table. Next he got out his eye piece and cross comm, laying it down on the table. "Whole thing is classified so no pictures. He next laid down the magnetic's sensors he had with him as well, before turning looking at the others who were there.

He decided to just move to the far wall and check his phone, maybe call his daughter and let her know daddy was okay. He sighed and just unlocked it staring at a photo of the two of them sitting on the porch swing, it was hard to believe she was four years old now. He wondered then smiled putting his shades back on and looking at the box of smoke's in ammo pouch thinking about having one.

[User]
---

---

 Frankie eyed the first person to take to the table. She was roughly his age, as he could tell, with a fair appearance. Indeed one of the more unusual of operators, especially when she placed down a laptop under her specialised equipment. It came as a slight shock, not knowing what to expect out of this. However, he was heavily briefed by Thatcher about who most of these Operators were. It would only make sense if she, this American lady, were to fit under the role of the Hacker. It was quite an odd and large device for such missions that were ahead.

 He lifted his head towards her, slowly picking her laptop up and turning it from side to side. Amongst the American-grade weaponry, it was definitely something remarkable. His eyes switched between her and the laptop a few times, before he eventually managed to smile a little bit. It had been the first time he'd smiled for a while, in the previous week, but he'd found this amusing; however, not in a mocking way...

"Glad to meet you, Monroe...Good to see a variety in equipment here, including this...Laptop? Y'know...Kind of odd having one of these here. You sure you haven't tried scaling the size of it down?" He opened the lid, checking all the buttons and wiring with a dumbed-down addition to IQ's tool. It was pretty neat and tidy, compared to the work she'd be training for here in Rainbow. To her last comment, he smiled to himself, chuckling lightly in his highland tone. "IT Department...Oh I wish I had someone else to lend me a hand. I only became an official Operator for a few months, and I've been in this organisation since it started...But, uh...Just come 'ere when you need it, and if you need any tweaks or fixes, I'll be on duty."

 Frankie knew that the discovery of him being an Operator may come as a shock or surprise to any of these new individuals. He didn't seem or look the part from first glance, but his ability within his gear was quite a different sight. That would have to be something for them to witness themselves in the future, but until then, he was left with only potential judgements. He knew that he wasn't even a match for Harold. Harold's experience and aggression was far higher and more intense than the sly approach Frankie usually gave.

 Another operator stood forward before he had the chance to dismiss the pleasant Operator. He was a more smartened up figure, hair nicely styled well compared to the rougher look of Frankie's black hair. He had a blunter tone, placing his equipment down and warning Frankie to keep his hands off of any harmful approaches to his machines. This was what frustrated Frankie, in the past and the present. These people, trained to go into military situations, bringing expensive toys right into the heart of combat and danger, and yet they are reluctant to allow Frankie, qualified in handling them, to monitor and study their structure. It was a kick in the teeth if he knew one...

 Frankie simply nodded at first. He knew what this person was, to some extent. He knew that Frankie had not earned the status to know of this man's origination, but could clearly tell who he was out of the group based on what little detail they received. Another organisation, most likely, much like Fourth Echelon and their tie ins with Frankie (Whom others were not likely to know about, due to the connections he had, similar to Daniel and the Ghosts). And Frankie could respect this, the secrecy. They did not need to know too much about one another, and it would be a luxury if they did. They were here for the same reason, hopefully, unless the transfer was against his own will. Either way, any man with any weapon that was effective with it would prove useful in the field.

"Right...Got it, no touchy touchy until I fully understand its structure. Which I can do, if you gave me time...Anyway...First impressions of the Headquarters? The countryside? The operators here?"

[Assistant]
Harold pushed himself up and walked over to the lady with the Australian accent. She had called herself a yank, but so had Eliza Cohen, and she had been Isralie. Offering a hand out to her, a neutral expression on his face, he gave her a proper looking over-once up, once down. "Hello there. I'm... Well, I'm Harold Fischer. I was operator for a while but you won't find me on any of the files, that's for sure." A sly smile crossed his face, one hand rubbing the slight amount of stubble that he had gained off-duty. He needed to start shaving again he realised, although that was a slight non-sequitur.

"They never gave me a codename, or at least they didn't until they had to." He indicated towards the modified shield, which even from here it was clear that it was not normal, a slanted angle allowing the force to be concentrated along one single line, weakening the surface before he properly burst in. "I'll be the one covering your ass. Krieg."

He wondered what the gal would be a specialist in. Most of the recruits in Six originally had been mechanical and electrical engineers- it was what made them as powerful as they did, most of them were experts having actually invented their gadgets. Unless the laptop had something under the hood, likely, she might not be that special.

He dismissed that thought. They were all in Six after all.

[User]
Daniel nodded to Frankie. "Yeah... It's pretty out here, I got a chopper ride in from the airport. It's pretty different to Fort Bragg." He added, obviously comfortable discussing home. "Sorry if I came little overprotective of my gear, it's just usually we gotta tell every clerk on base the rules with it. The 'toys' we use in my line of work are about as top end as it gets." He explained, skirting the subject of who he actually worked completely as usually.

"I am surprised with it all, I'm right out of the military myself so this is a hell of lot nicer than we usually get." He yawned loudly. "Of course, I've been awake now... Twenty or so hours, much as I like an all nighter, I can't wait to find my bunk." He added looking at Frankie, the guy seemed nice so he figured he might as talk for awhile. "As for the operator, I like the diversity but I look at this stuff and I have to wonder why they sent a sniper... I mean I'm also a drone and comm's specialist, though I suppose I have done a lot of anti-terrorist work in the past." He relaxed looking at his pack of smokes, thinking about one. "Oh, and you got a sat phone anywhere around here? I wanna call my sister and daughter, let them know I got here safe and sound." He added without much else to say.

[Assistant]
"Harold, nice to meet you," she replied, looking up at the man while gripping his hand with a firm handshake, "I'm Desiree Monroe, also known as Murphy." She eyed his shield, and for a brief moment, she pictured Fischer bursting through barricades and large crowds, sending people flying in various directions. The thought was entertaining, but she refrained from making a comment in that regard. On the job, she was always a professional first, jokester second, at least until she got to know her teammates and was comfortable enough around them to let her guard down.

"I used to be FBI, although my gear is nowhere near as impressive as what they portray on TV," she smiled, knowing that sooner or later he would inquire about her laptop. "But I seldom engage in offensive tactics as I'm more of a computer nerd. Don't get me wrong, I'm a hell of a shot, but I can get you eyes and ears on the enemy upon command, regardless of their location."

Desiree always felt she needed to defend her skills because one: she was a woman and two: she sat in front of a computer for a living. Put the two together and you've got a rather self-conscious agent who at times questions her own work.