[System]
Oshea Jackson

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Character Summary
Aliases:  Rocket
Age: 19
Birthday: 06/12/1999
Birth Place: West Baltimore, Maryland.
Gender: Male.
Powers: Super Speed/Speedster.
Affiliation: X-Men.

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Appearance
Height: 6'1.
Weight: 200.
Build: Slim, lean build.
Eyes: Mocha brown.
Hair: Black.
Skin Tone: Dark.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:None.
Personal Style: He often wears jean shorts and red Converse with some kind of sports jersey partisan to various professional sports teams. His favorite jersey to wear is a New England Patriots jersey. He has an assortment of different color converse he wears at any given time. He may often wear mismatch color converse. He can often be seen with several fitted caps representing different sports teams as well.

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Psychology
Fast thinker * Unitdy * Unselfish * Impulsive * Introspective * Lacks foresight

Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Relationship Status: Single.
Personality: Oshea is untidy, an ode to his roots in Baltimore's slums. He cares not for order of any kind, but he will listen to those who are in a position of leadership. Otherwise, he is rather unfocused and does not do well with controlling his mind or thoughts--this is possibly because they move too fast for him to have a decisive grasp over. He does his best to focus on one task at a time but often cannot; he is exceeds when tasked with multiple things at once.

Despite his lack of mental focus, Oshea is quite introspective. He possesses a lot of intangible traits: charisma, leadership, intuition, confidence. Oshea can be impulsive, and will sometimes act brash in dangerous situations. This does not mean he will not think about his actions while he is doing something, rather that he will not relent from doing something after he has committed himself to whatever path he has chosen.
Habits: He is untidy and he does not enjoy order in the slightest sense.
Hobbies: Running. Collecting shoes. Placing bets. Collecting sports jerseys. Cooking.
Fears:
* Guns.
* Returning to poverty.
* Being too slow or too late.

Likes:
* Junk food.
* Lots of colors.
* Drawing.
* Video games.
* Building things.
* Girls.

Dislikes: 6 minimal
* Bullies.
* Roaches.
* Egotistical people.
* Inequality.
* Moral discrimination.
* Being alone.

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Cards On The Table
General World Skills: Max 6
* Cooking.
* Driving.
* Good with directions and understanding an environment.
* Deciphering intentions.
* Reading body language.
* Eating.

Combat Skills:
* Hand-to-hand skills (boxing).
* Fighting dirty.

Possessions:
This is generally the list of items that you own, just list your characters possessions.
* A keychain with his friend's face on it.
* Black 8 oz boxing gloves.
* Red goggles.
* Wallet.
* Art supplies (colored pencils, markers, paintbrushes, etc)
* An assortment of 90s rap albums.
* An assortment of underground rap albums.
* Several kinds of Hostess' junk foods.
* A red watch.
* A cape.

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History
How did you discover your powers: Like other mutants, his powers showed themselves in spurts once he hit puberty. It was not until a run-in with the neighborhood bullies that his powers reared themselves in full. Across all of Baltimore there are gangs, organizations who war with one another for control over money and lucrative pipelines for selling product. While Oshea himself was never involved in gangs or drugs, he residency as a Fayette Avenue inhabitant marked him as an enemy of nameless and faceless kids from warring neighborhoods.

One day, Oshea was getting off of the bus that dropped him off on the corner several blocks from his house--and right in the heart of enemy territory. He was soon approached by seven kids of varying sizes and dispositions--each of whom asked no questions and immediately began trying to punish him over a trivial categorical difference: where he lived. But Oshea had ran before, he had ran his entire life--from death, from being perceived as "soft", from guidance; so it was easy for him to run again--and he did. Time slowed, everyone else was standing still and he was moving at inhuman speeds.

Why did you choose the side that you did?: Where Oshea grew up, there was little hope. On the corner of Fayette Avenue, Oshea was privy to every social more in a poverty stricken area: drugs, gangs, violence, betrayal. His love for superheroes and his idolization of prominent figures Charles Xaver and Bishop brought him great solace while trying to survive the city's worst. When his mutant abilities came to fruition, he was soon brought to the Xavier Institute and vowed to use his newfound abilities to fight the horrors he had seen in his own neighborhood.

General History: Born and raised in Baltimore, Oshea never had an easy life. While both of his parents were present in his life, his father worked two jobs and his mother worked as a babysitter at night. For much of his adolescence, Oshea was alone and could have easily shared the fate of many of his peers: in jail, addicted to drugs, or dead. He pre-occupied himself with the arts: reading, writing, painting, music. These all served as suitable outlets for him to express himself in ways less nefarious than the streets. It was in this that Oshea developed a strong independence and reliance on himself.

He grew up fast and learned to provide for himself from an early age. Nights where neither of his parents were home he would prowl Baltimore on the hunt for any scraps of food he could find, often posing as a hobo in hopes of garnishing the sympathy of the occasional well-to-do patron on the finer side of Baltimore where project buildings gave way to high-rises and nice cars. It was this trickery that honed Oshea's skills as a hustler and master of deception. With what food and loose change he could hustle from some charitable soul, Oshea would bought more art supplies to further his craft. He graduated from painting on canvas to painting murals, from writing poetry to performing it locally. He became somewhat of a recognizable face around his neighborhood and was one of few kids to rise above circumstances given to him.

He was certainly not infallible. What little fame he garnered from his art also gained him enemies. He spent many days defending himself from bullies and kids from rival neighborhoods. As such, he used the few hundred dollars he got from the poetry slams to fund boxing lessons for himself at a local gym. It was there that he learned to strike, defend, maneuver, and knock-out the finest amateurs in his neighborhood. For a time (before he attended Xavier's) he turned semi-pro, and had five total fights in which he went 3-2. A nasty head injury from his final fight marked his retirement from amateur boxing, though he has yet to put down the gloves completely.

Since he has been at Xavier's, he has developed a bond with many of the newer and incoming students and often offers advice and guidance to them. He especially tries to mentor the kids who come from disadvantageous backgrounds much like himself. Recently, he was invited to join the resident X-Men team as part of its new generation of young mutants and he vows to use his powers alongside his peers to bring peace to the world at large. Oshea is determined to someday become a teacher at the Institute and he also hopes one day to have a comic book penned after him. Most of all, Oshea wants to serve as a hero worthy of the title and serve as someone kids can look up to much like Oshea did when he was young.

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Extras
Character Quote: "I just run 'til I can't run anymore."
Theme Song: Army of the Godz
Anything Else: Bishop. Create-A-Superhero 2

*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.

[User]
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Ayita Dyrkin

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Location X-Van

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Rolling her shoulders, Ayita took stock of the equipment she had. It wasn't much, but she had never wanted for much. A fleeting note that she should pick up a bow at some point flickered through her mind. It wouldn't hurt to have that welcomed bulk upon her once more. Not that the correct bow was bulky. They were smooth agile weapons that the woman honestly appreciated. Hers had been left in her small cavern home in the mountains. Not really a home, but a den for the winter months. She had thought about reclaiming it- but that would be a waste of time. She could make another if it came down to it. Not to mention she didn't see the Professor denying her that when she noted the guns (loud and obnoxious things) the others had.

A feral smile graced her lips however. It was small hard to notice. But it was there as she stared Pietro in the eyes. Her head slowly tilting to the side to revealed her notched ear. "You say that as if this Mystique is so great because her powers are 'cool'. Strong. Even the apex. Even such fall to the savage desperation of the prey time to time. Such is the law of nature." Her voice never rose, never took an edge to it. Merely stated the facts as she saw them. It did not matter to her if this turncoat missed her warning. It truly was not Mystique that worried her. Human grudges like his sister's concerned her greater. And she would rather face the other shifters the Brotherhood had than the Scarlet Witch. All in all however, Ayita wanted to pull this off without a fight. Thus avoiding the negatives that happened in a fight. Wounds, maim, death. Her amber eyes gleamed as she tilted her head back normally, hiding her ear again. Her feral look cooling to neutrality again. "Be that as it may. I am not keen of meeting any apex predator in combat. Those fights are bloody and often end well for no one." It was true enough, and she wondered if perhaps that's why such clashes between X-men and Brotherhood ended as they did.

Well for no one.

[Assistant]
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Guinevere Stark

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Location: The X-Van
{"Just don't do anything I would do."}

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 Guin grimaced as she heard Hank's assessment of the situation. With viruses that Magneto had been developing for only a month at most, there was the potential for danger that Magneto had not intended. Assuming that the first virus had been released, they would need to create a vaccine for the second and an antidote for the first. In order to get a sample of the first virus, they'd have to be lucky. Hopefully, Magneto had samples of the first virus on site. She knew that the second had to still be there. Otherwise, she would be dead along with Cassandra -- Magneto would have already released them.

 Did Guin find it a bit odd that Pietro couldn't remember the powers of the other mutants? Yes, she did. She was familiar with the abilities of her team - if they didn't know what each other was capable of, then they wouldn't really be a team. It left her with only two conclusions: either Pietro was clueless when it came to the inner workings of the Brotherhood or he was intentionally withholding information.

 She liked him, yes, but she wasn't stupid. She knew that there was a serious advantage for Magneto if he could get one of his followers inside the X-Men's ranks. But if Pietro really was still working for Magneto, it wouldn't make any sense that he helped them at the Power Plant. Even if Magneto didn't want them killed, Pietro could have taken them all hostage. The only logical explanation was that Pietro had had a change of heart.

 And, of course, that he didn't pay close attention to the other two mutants working for Magneto. Guin glanced at Carolina as the girl went limp. The mission was starting. Her team wasn't too bad: Marygold, Allison, Carolina, and herself. They'd be going down into the lower levels of the lab, while Cassandra's team was sticking to the upper levels. She didn't have any powers herself, but she had cheap tricks and cheesy one liners. They'd get her through this.

[User]
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Allison Andrews

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Location: The Garage
{"Puppies and kittens. Think happy thoughts...."}

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Allison felt eyes on her but wasn't sure who was looking at her. It gave her a warm fuzzy, regardless, because it meant someone was watching out for her. Not that she didn't trust her team! Of course, she did! She was excited to be working with those she as assigned to. Hopefully, she would be able to pull her own weight this time around.

The girl, Carolina, told her what she was able to do. It sounded so neat! So cool! Much cooler than her own powers! She could already tell they would get along swimmingly! You know...provided they live to tell about it after all of this. No Allison! Think happy thoughts. Of course, they are going to get through this! There is no way bad guys will win. That never happens.

Right?

[Assistant]
"It's almost about that time."

It was almost time. Too much anticipation. Too much unease, no peace. Was every ride to the beginning of a mission going to be this long? Oshea couldn't bottle his childish wonder; gone--at least for now--was the worry, he could concentrate on the X's and O's, a sudden change in group personnel stifled some of his extraneous plans, but he supposed those could be saved for later. At present, he had to figure out how to best utilize his new team. The sensible part of his mind told him he had to refrain from action; the part of himself truer to his base desires urged him to delve; which would prevail remained to be seen.

Running recon wouldn't be smart; it may just be a repeat of last mission--and for the sake of hi team he could not afford another broken leg. With Casandra and Charlie a his partners, Oshea had formulated a fine initial plan, he would let them both know soon as the mission had begun. What last moments of insidious calm he could manage, Oshea would.


[System]
Race: Laguz (Raven)
Age: 21
Appearance: Messy short black hair. Tall and thin, angular face. Dark blue eyes. Large black wings.
Features: Bird's Eye (Sees farther away than most and can pick up more details up close.)
Stats
 Constitution - 4
 Strength - 2
 Magic - 0
 Skill - 6
 Speed - 6
 Defense - 4
 Resistance - 4
 Luck - 3
Inventory: Beaststone
Personality: Snarky, ever watchful for danger or things he can exploit, clever but impulsive with a quick temper, curious
Biography: He'd had honestly had hope for Miricia. Not much since Beroc would be Beroc, but some. He had wandered over from Derark to see if he could make a new life here. Now that King Temerius had abandoned them, he'd need to take matters into his own hands to figure out who'd murdered the former Beroc king no matter what.
Additional Info: Has dealt with the criminal underbelly before.

[User]
Felix Vulpeculas - Dawn, Miricia

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On the roof of the Dancing Dragon, a certain redhead was curled up like a cat, snoozing away the day with dreams of gold and jewels. Really there was nothing better on a sunny day than a seista under the warm rays. He remained only half asleep, as some idiots thought he was a Laguz for a reason he couldn't quite see. The bastards threw a rock at him once, and he gave them some burns. Fair's fair.

The other reason he wasn't fully asleep was because the pub below him was a goldmine of information waiting to be tapped. Sure 90% of it was dragon dung, but he had hit a dead end with his search for loot and figured it couldn't hurt. Hmm... a new voice, well technically two but the other guy wasn't interesting. Seemed like a background character if anything.

Yawning, he stretched out. Was he about to go down and introduce himself, possibly signing up for a quest of earth shattering proportions? No, he was just scooting around so he was evenly baked by the sun. Anyway, the prick of an owner banned him. Honestly, it was only a minor fire, nobody even died.

[Assistant]
Nortiz-Dawn,Mirica

"Right away, good sir," Nortiz replied, forcing himself not to grimace as he dashed into the back and sighed. His wings were killing him! Curse the goddess for having the one tavern close to the castle and hiring be anti-Laguez. Wings were not meant to be worn under tunics. But such was a price for and a better chance at intel on the goings on of the castle.

He filled up a quart stein with the strongest brew available. That ought to help that dumb knight wag his tongue. Figure out what to do with his companion and he'd hit the jackpot. May as well see if an opportunity presented itself. He skillfully hurried back out, no drips falling from the brew. "There you are." He called as he served his gold mine before turning to the other, glancing around you make sure no one else was calling for him. "Anything for you, sir?"

[User]
Dawn, Miricia

Letting out a breath as he takes a seat at the table claimed by the Prince and his bodyguard procured, Zachary felt relief at finally arriving at their destination. Joining the emissaries when the call was sent out, he had volunteered with great haste. This was a mission of great importance, to that there was no doubt. Tasked with solving an assassination of a nation's leader is no small task. It would be lying though if he said he joined with no selfish reasoning. This was as much an opportunity for him to prove himself to those back home.

He motions towards the tavern maid to get her attention. "An ale, please," he requests. "And some food." Once his order was in check, Zachary's eyes wonders over towards the price and his more boisterous bodyguard. During the trip, he never really had much of a chance to try and speak to his highness. Though at the rate they had traveled to arrive here and the focus the prince had appeared, the young man figured better than to potentially annoy the young royal.

Noticing Prince Eric looking up at something, his head and eyes followed. They ended up on a sign over the bar, indicating that Laguez were not welcome here. Zachary grimaces at that. He knew others could be quite hostile towards the Laguez people, but he had never had issues with them himself. And wasn't this supposed to be the nation were Beorc and the Laguez were supposed to be working together? Head shaking, Zachary turns away from it, as he waits for his drink.

[Assistant]
Ava - Dawn, Miricia

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The "Future of Karula" was surely looking bleak right now. The situation was worse than Ava had thought, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife, worse of all the current laws meant that she couldn't move freely through Dawn, which complicated her mission. Not wanting to try to hide her ears and tail, she used her ability to half-shift to appear as a gray-haired stray dog, which let her roam the streets. Aside from the weird looks from being a three-legged dog, no one seemed to suspect she was a Laguz in disguise.

Hanging around the main square while deciding what would be her next steps, Ava noticed a group of Albian knights entering a tavern. Curious about their reasons for being there, she got closer to the tavern, inspecting the door. Her current form presented a problem, she couldn't just push the door and enter it, dogs weren't allowed at taverns and at this point Laguz probably weren't welcome either, so she had to find another way to listen in. For now, she decided to sit outside the tavern and try her best to hear what was happening inside it, even if she couldn't hear everything they had to come out at some point.

[User]
Prince Erik Reighn - Dawn, Miricia

"Oh boy! Much appreciated!" Gregory cried out happily as he was brought a large mug. The man greedily accepted the beverage and gulped down part of its contents moments after its arrival. Gregory was built like a bear, but had the personality of a child. Erik looked over at Gregory and his drink, tempted at the moment to order something himself to calm his nerves, but he was far too pissed off to want that now.

Erik shook his head as he looked up at his server for the first time. His dark hair and thin frame was unremarkable, but his back seemed... larger than normal. Erik glanced at it curiously and cocked and eyebrow. A bad case of hunchback? Or was he hiding something. Regardless, it wasn't the prince's place to delve into other's business, unless they made it his business.

"I'll take another ale, boy!" An inebriated older man with a full white beard yelled from behind Noritz as he clapped on his back. The older man drunkenly patted him a few times and looked at his hand in confusion, as he felt something beyond more than just a back. "What the...?"

Erik took notice of this, as apparently did others around the tavern due to the older man's loud voice. Now many had their eyes on the server. Erik glanced around anxiously, realizing something may very well happen. He looked over at Gregory and the young Archer Zachary that had join them, and grasped onto his blade from his seat.

[Assistant]
Felix Vulpecula

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Creeeak...
...
Creeeeeeeeaaaaaak...
...
Creeeeeeeaaaaaaa-

SNAP!!!

Apparently the roof wasn't strong enough for someone to toss and turn on while napping. Honestly, such shoddy workmanship. Felix fell through the ceiling, landing samely on top of a rotund mob character patron of the bar. Hey, and it was just in time for a good old fashioned bar fight. He hadn't been involved in one since that incident at the strip club. In his defence, that dancer hit like a steam train.

Opening his tome of Thunder, he gave a vulpine grin and said:

"So we going by traditional barfighting rules, or is maiming allowed?"

This playful tone was offset by him immediately sending a bolt of lightning at one of the other patrons before leaping behind a table. The mage started cackling maniacly as he began zapping random folks. Gods he loved bars.

[User]
Nortiz - Dawn, Mirica

Swiftly, Nortiz took advantage of the newcomer's arrival. He ducked down, knocked over the old guy, then rolled to shelter under the knights' table. Risky, but a lightning wielding mage actively attacking people should be higher priority than a suspected laguez. He hoped Mildred would be alright though. The barmaid was nice, for being a beroc.

Next, he struggled to free his wings. He couldn't transform with them in their current position! They were already sore enough as it was. Transforming like this could potentially break them. Why hadn't he figured out something to hide how they felt when patted? He had only seen himself as behind the counter and not someone people would randomly have a chance or inclination to pat.

He grabbed his beastsone to be ready while he tore at the tunic. It'd take too long to to lift above his head right now. He knew he was panicking though as his attempts became frantic, but it couldn't be helped. Getting caught now meant either official custody or mob rule. And either pathway would be no picnic. Only the dumb knight's companion promised a possibility of things working out if surrendered to. He'd obviously been willing to leave things alone before the old man came in, noticing something before. Nortiz would be dammed though if he willingly surrendered to a beroc without exhausting every other options, not again.

[Assistant]
Dawn, Miricia

How did everything suddenly get so crazy? They hadn't even been here for more than five minutes and now the tavern has turned to utter chaos! First it seemed that one of the servers had caught the attention of everyone in the tavern after a loud drunk had patted him across the path. The look that Prince Erik had when he turned towards Sir Gregory and himself indicated that he was preparing to intervene if he needed to.

But before that situation could developed anymore, a crash came through the roof and what looked like a kid fell on top of another patron. Just what the heck is going on?! Even as his brain was processing the insanity, the situation gets even worse when it becomes seemingly evident that the kid is a madman, as he starts firing off lightning at random inside the tavern.

Zachary knew in this situation that the first priority is to secure the safety of his prince. He bolts up from his seat towards Prince Erik, hastily placing his arm on his back with a push to keep his head down. "Your Highness! It's not safe here. We need to get you outside now!" It's imperative he can keep the Prince safe. An incident here could spell trouble not just here, but back in Albia as well.

[User]
Prince Erik Reighn - Dawn, Miricia

Madness!

Erik has barely enough time to react before the roof collapsed, and some maniac appeared to be firing on the bar patrons. "We're not running from this!" He unsheathed his sword, as Gregory rose and armed himself with a Lance.

"Get the innocent to safety! Break this fight apart!" He commanded, and dashed forward to the fray, attacking the odd, shorter fellow who crashed into the tavern. He swung his sword from the top of his head, making sure to try to hit his opponent with the broad side of his sword for a non-lethal strike.

[Assistant]
Felix Vulpecula

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Felix just barely managed to dodge out of the way of the oncoming slash. Ye gods this guy was fast. It was by only their divine intervention (or more the devil's luck) that the guy was slowed by the table he used as cover otherwise he'd have been instantly knocked out of the fight.

"Oh gods, you're a Main Character." the mage said, dodging behind much slower patrons. They made good meat shields. "And are you trying to kill me you arse? You know magi have lower physical abilities than you brutes!"

As punisment for breaking the fourth wall, the Fire Fox tripped on an errant mug and went rolling into another patron, headbutting the guy square in the junk. The youth quickly stood up and started trying to rub that off his head.

"Eww... I touched another guys junk... so gross..."

[User]
Ava - Dawn, Miricia

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There was no need to strain her ears for Ava to notice the ongoing mess in the tavern. Somehow everything went from zero to a hundred in less than five minutes, starting from the roof collapsing. She was pleased with these turn of events though, it seems luck had decided to favor her this time, as now she had an excuse to beat a few people up and get answers of what occurred from there, something miles more interesting than pretending to be a dog. The king surely wouldn't mind her roughing of a few people up if it's for investigation purposes. Her human form would probably be enough for handling a couple of drunkards, but if she had to go against the Albian knights she would need to use her beast form.

Ditching her disguise Ava kicked the door open, not a few moments later getting a chair thrown at her by one of the patrons, which she narrowly managed to avoid. A quick look at the "We don't serve beasts or birds!" sign made her realize that coming out without hiding her ears had made her a walking target. Well, that saved her the effort of having to initiate a fight, she thought, a big grin forming on her face.

[Assistant]
Nortiz - Dawn, Mirica

Your Highness?

The words caught Nortiz's attention as he finally managed to transform. Hoping the confusion of the mage and the laguez newcomer (hopefully she'd be alright) would be enough of a distraction, he flew up through the roof then found a place to hide where he still had a view of the tavern's brawl. He needed to keep an eye on that royal.

While he could be the king himself with the knight accidentally calling him by his old title, most likely it was some foriegn dignitary (especially now that Nortiz noticed the non-Mirican sigils). If so, he was likely here on business with the Jacob III, which could provide an opening to learn all the facts and investigate the prime person who benefited from the past king's murder. The anti-Laguez laws had come rather quickly in the aftermath, a laguez type kill could be faked, and hopefully an actual laguez assassin would kill in a Beroc way in order to not be obvious unless paid to do otherwise. (And the only other possibility he knew of was those laguez fanatics and hopefully it wadn't them because that would mean that they've started to make their move and they would...)

Nortiz shook his head. Now wasn't the time for such musings. First thing was to keep an eye on this prince and potentially help the other laguez. That's all he could concern himself with for now. Observing and waiting.


[System]
Quote: "There are things that we cannot fathom, yet we still fight like children with parents absent?"

Theme Song
Alias:
Lovecraft

Age:
44

Powers and Skills:
His mind has warped from exposure to the, best forgetten, places between dimensions, causing him to snap and become a shell of the man he used to be. His mind wavers between this reality and the "truth of things", seeing what people and his surroundings are when plunged into the madness of the inbetween, and allows him to channel the cold void between spaces when in this mindset. Isaac retains his SAS combat training, both in melee and at range with various weapons, making him dangerous even when his mind is stable. When unstable, his skill with weapons varies chaotically, although often times they are unnecessary due to manifesting things that should not be from between planes, commonly shielding himself and lashing out with tendrils of frigid, nearing absolute zero, darkness for a lack of better terms.

Weaknesses:
Despite his training and powers, he is still just a man beyond that compared to metahumans and superhumans in general. Subject has a warped sense of reality, slipping into a state of mind that could be best described as sheer madness, claiming to see everything around him for what it really is, making him dangerous to be around to allies as well as enemies. Even when stable, he shows a lack of teamwork that once defined his life, perhaps a side effect of his condition, and often times shows fatalistic pessimism, and a general devil may care attitude about how life turns out, convinced that his own well being is irrelevant compared to the happenings of the cosmos and in between them, showing a lack of concern for his life.

Personality:
Isaac is a quiet man when he retains control of his faculties, preferring to speak little and act greatly rather than speak boldly and not act. This comes from his military time, and even before then, as he always had an introverted streak that would make him an odd leader, preferring to let a team speak and hear them all out before offering a comment or disagreement that often was pinpointed on how it would unravel an entire plan or idea. Polite and amiable beyond his quiet tendency, one would be forgiven as to wonder why Isaac would be kept by himself, in a room reinforced with several inches of steel and often provided food only when he could prove his sanity long enough for someone to slip a tray in past the door. His alter ego is a jarring shift that might as well not be related to Isaac at all.

When his mind warps, Isaac becomes something completely different. Laughing and crying in equal measures, he throws himself into situations with wild abandon, often speaking things that are utter madness to others that might not, and usually do not, make any sort of sense what so ever. His interpersonal interactions while warped are nonsensical, often times lashing out verbally or physically at anyone who dares engage him during his mind breaks. This mindset often bleeds over into his normal self, often times twitching or making comments that are out of place, such as on how people appear outside themselves or otherwise things that only make sense to someone who has seen things that should have completely blasted his mind out of his head.

Appearance:
Isaac stands at about 5'10" tall, with a fairly thin build that, other than muscle that he retains, is remarkably thin and almost, to the untrained eye, malnourished at the best of times.

Biggest Claim(s) to Fame:
Was tasked with leading a British black op investigating superhuman activities involving Stonehedge. Isaac would chase the cult of superhumans across the globe, from London to Cairo to Tokyo even, storming hideouts and fighting raving madmen powered by their own abilities and something else, usually manifesting in corruption that caused men to go mad when coming into contact and often, for their own good, being put down. Isaac was haunted by having to put his own men down during his pursuit of this cult, as he chased them closer and closer to Stonehenge, expecting their leader and some lunacy of a ritual, at worst, and vengeance for those who had fallen during the pursuit.

Isaac could only wish that the reality was that innocent.

Isaac would find Stonehenge quarantined off by the British Royal Army, surrounded by a creeping, unnatural corruption that was barely contained by the Royal Army, and was spreading. Isaac and his men donned full CBRN attire, which seemed to work against the black, tarry substance as the squad advanced into the infested area. Isaac refuses to discuss what transpired at the core of Stonehenge, but he lost his entire team and was corrupted by whatever the cult was attempting to summon. Isaac had reached the center circle of Stonehenge, apprehending their leader before he could finish the rights, but the man killed himself and tried to use his life force to finish the ritual.

Isaac would be incarcerated after an outbreak, several months after the events at Stonehenge that were covered up by the British government, the incident ending up slaughtering a platoon of Royal Marines prior to being subdued. He was tossed into a maximum security facility, remaining in solitary confinement with nothing but his thoughts, and other beings thoughts, for four years after the event, where he continues to remain alone and isolated.

How Long Have You Been in Prison: 4 Years of Solitary Confinement

Notes:
Prefers not to sleep if he can help it, haunted by nightmares of things in between realities at the best if times.

[User]
Daz's attention was purely on her future squad mates. When Waller ordered their restraints removed, Daz became almost robotic in her stance. Completely still in an "at ease" position, but there was an intense aura about her. Almost as if one false move and she would be the first to put several rounds into the assailant's head. Of course, she knew about the nanites even before Waller's announcement but it did nothing to remove any suspicion that someone wouldn't act out. After all these were dangerous super criminals who may even kill on a whim. Trying to assume explosive nanites could tame them was almost comical.

"Sara Silversmith aka Lady Nightmare," Daz's thoughts shifted to her when the super criminal spoke. "Highly dangerous metahuman with abilities to sense and even use one's fear as a weapon. She's cruel, hedonistic and has a body I'd probably kill for."

This one seemed especially dangerous mostly due to her addiction to fear. Even the threat of death may not overcome it, but Daz at least trusted Waller with this. Waller was many things, but she wasn't an incompetent monster. Lady Nightmare must be a useful and controllable asset. Everyone else present seemed to have their potential uses that might not make this an actual suicide mission.

[Assistant]
Nanites, so that's what had been in the food.

Cecil knew it wasn't an altruistic gesture, but he had assumed a chemical agent. This was a different beast. How long would it take to disable them? Two hours, if he had his own lab and was undisturbed. Not an option, apparently. What about stealthily, on the go, with limited tools? Far from ideal. Probability of success was low. Okay, what is known? It might be better to ask what can be reasonably surmised, but that's a dangerous game when detonation is the price for failure.

His mind continued to work as the guards relieved him of his cuffs and opened the storage bin that contained the items he was last arrested with.

They are definitely able to receive signals. It is highly likely that they give off some kind of signal as well, to track the squad. They are likely homogeneous, and able to operate on their own(otherwise they would need a central controller, and there's no way to guarantee that the victim eats that part. They need to be able to function no matter what proportion that victim actually consumed). The safest route is to first. . .

"Jesus Christ!" Cecil's train of thought broke off as he flinched away from the horrible monster that erupted from the hot babe who had been standing next to him a moment before.

He regained his composure, and tried to play off his loss of cool by going through his possessions. In a cavalier display of immodesty, Cecil stripped out of his prison orange and into the clothes he had been arrested in. Laid out neatly under them in the storage bin was a smart phone, and a sleek little tool of his own design. It was a multitool that could unfold into configurations that could fit most common forms of screws, nuts and the like. It also had snips and a small electric torch that could range from soldering to cutting and welding, depending on how much batter life was left.

Perhaps, he told himself finally, he should put some thought toward the mission, in case he was not able to escape.

[User]
Greg opened his case and took out his 'texan tuxedo' as well as the holster for his guns. He preferred the under-arm style over the hip-holster ever since someone took his in a fight, now he preferred to play it 'close to the vest'. the pistols were filled to the brim with bullets, one had bouncing bullets for non-lethals, the other had Rip-rounds to put something down.

He fell into the balance of the guns with some rodeo pistol-twirling to build up his confidence, he set himself up just as the she-beast let her hair down. He'd faced a yellow lantern before, the radiant aura pulled on him the way she was now, like those 'demented' things from the 'hairy pottery' books. She was doing the same thing and he had plenty to be scared of.

Swallowing hard, he holstered his tools and looked back to waller. "Thats there is some nightmare fuel, no offense ma'am...What is the mission? Rescuing the professor and the kid OR taking down the monster seem like Justice League work... What is the REAL mission?"

[Assistant]
King Shark stood beside cyborg woman with his arms hanging limply by his sides as he hunched forward somewhat. He wanted to give off the impression that, at the moment, he was the brute he appeared to be. While king Shark knew that he wasn't exactly a genius, he was at least intelligent enough to realize this and use this to his advantage. He often put up facade of being just as dumb as he looked but in truth he had more hidden away in his mind than most would think.

Although a lot of his knowledge was on Spongebob and various eras of literature.

The King inspected the group through his peripherals so as though to keep up the illusion that he wasn't analyzing each and everyone of them. A lot of these highwaymen seemed as if they'd be easy enough to take down but if Spongebob taught him anything its that looks can be very deceiving. King Shark turned his head to the gunslinger as he suited up with his holsters not unlike the ones worn by some of The King's guards. He wasn't sure if they were single-fire or possibly rapid-fire but it was good to know that they were there.

Suddenly the once unbecoming blonde was replaced by a devilishly, supernatural looking woman. There was a moment of shock garnered from King Shark but this was followed by more immediate intrigue as her appearance reminded him of a few descriptions of otherworldly beasts from one of his books whom the title of escaped him at the moment. To the perceptive it would be clear that The King was deep in thought now trying to recall which book contained a description alike to the raven haired girl in front of him.


[System]
Age:

22

Appearance:

 Subject stands 160 cm (5'2") in height. Subject also has light hazel eyes with short hair to match.

Abilities:

 Subject possesses an unobserved form of  Affinity with Pain*  (*Suffering?): Record has the Subject breaking a door off its hinges when it was accidentally closed on and injured her fingers. While it was evident there was damage – multiple broken phalanxes and torn skin – the injury seemed to have never happened, suggesting a Regenerative Healing Factor. The strength which she gained to break the door was hypothesized to come from her injury.

 The extent to which the two abilities are able to reach is unknown. Further insight is needed.

History:

 Subject is of Gaelic origin, raised in The United Kingdom. Parents show no obvious signs of empowerment, and have therefore the hypothesis that the Subject's abilities are of a spontaneous mutation is further supported. Parents are a non-factor.

 Subject is a student of Department of Law in the  London School of Economics and Political Science  – top of her class, with multiple intern experiences with many important figures. Many people know her.

 Her current residence is in the central London area, alone, supported with her position of Paralegal in Yip Tse & Chiang, a Chinese-based law firm.

[User]
Agent Dioxide nodded to Subject 30, and turned to leave. As expected, there she was in the hallway with his partner. She looked frail and weak, cowering over the much taller Agent. It's hard to think that what had happened just a few days ago was caused by her.

He took Gershwin by the arm, and she obliged, though with resistance. He gave a sympathetic glance to Agent Caits that said:  'yeah, another one of those moments.'

…

Gershwin did not reciprocate a reply to Agent Caits nor Agent Dioxide after she was pulled into the elevator. They were several floors up, so the silence was suffocating. She knew she'd messed up and she figured there would be some kind of repercussion. Halfway down, she thought back to Cody – a handsome lad with a gift for music. What he said kept ringing around in her mind:  'You're bright, so very bright.'

Mildly touched, she also thought if it had anything to do with her being (supposedly) abnormal. She thought not to bring this up with Agent Dioxide.

'So, how much in trouble am I?'

'You're not in trouble – you're not the first one to try. At least we stopped you before you got out of the building. Only then would you have been in trouble, but not by us. We're here to take care of you two because you're important to us - to potentially be able to save and change the world.'

Agent Dioxide said that with such indignation and hatred, yet his voice did not expose that, at least he hoped it didn't.

'Somehow I don't think you believe half of what you just said.'

She got it.

More silence as they neared the first floor.

'I'm not saying you have to go exercise every day, but it would be preferable since…'

He stopped himself.

'Since they're going to be examining me, right?'

'You aren't as exasperated as before.'

'Why should I be?'

'You should be, though.'

'I now realize that there is no way for me to escape this place. The least I can do is be resistant to your every way, but I won't fight back.'
'Gandhi.'

Had it not been for the very quiet lift, their nervous snickering would not have been heard.

'Keep that uniform on. That's the only way you'll get food at the cafeteria I told you. I'll see you tomorrow.'

The two parted separate ways, as Gershwin headed for SRD, Agent Dioxide Communications. She watched him walk away before finally tuning in to her surroundings. Despite her ability to wander around, her mobility was strictly limited with cameras, guard posts, and patrols everywhere. She made the smart choice early in Communications, but it was definitely a depressing revelation that her confirmations are all true: she was not going to leave.

---

The Subjects' cells are activated only with specific hand-prints. Not even the sanitation staff can enter to clean up. Only two sets are allowed access: the caretakers, and the subjects themselves.

Two panels are present on both sides of the door. Subjects and Caretakers are able to enter, but only the Caretakers are able to exit. A subject may only exit through the authorization of a present Caretaker.

With this knowledge in mind, Gershwin put aside the thought of briefly napping. She instead decided to travel up and down the elevator to different floors, walking to wherever she wasn't disallowed access. This amounted to very little; there was barely a window to look into and a doorway that isn't locked without key-cards.

An hour had passed. She went to the floor where the cafeteria was. It was almost full, but people made no effort to conceal their fear and apprehension for her, moving themselves away. Some chose to stand and eat. Had they not been told that the Subjects were valuable, they would have shot her on sight. Surely they were all trained professional killers, and nothing was stopping them. But it did feel awful to know that she was hated out of spite.

She took a tray of food, and sat herself down. Around this time, Cody should be on his way. She ate slowly, hoping to catch him before the allotted time was up.

[Assistant]
Cody stood there by himself a moment, then, with a sigh, he started out the room. He supposed he couldn't be there forever, although it made him happy. It gave him piece in this place. He approached Agent Caits, assuming she would lead him back to his cell. While he was confident he could find his way back, letting them believe he was just a little bit helpless would probably work in his favor.

He didn't speak to Agent Caits, and suspected she didn't particularly want to speak either. That was fine by Cody. It gave him time to listen to his surroundings, and to memorise the path.

As it was explained that he would be given freedom, he blinked.

'No offense, but freedom for me isn't exactly being able to walk around. I need to be shown around, before I can walk about by myself, otherwise'

His tone was cheery, so cheery that Agent Caits wondered if anything ever damped that easy going nature. She sighed, but took the time to show Cody where he could go, and how to get there, before leaving him.

Given his freedom, Cody merely returned to his cell, leaving the door open by standing in it, he studied the hand pad on the inside, humming. It wasn't really seeing it. He stood there a moment, before shrugging, and then heading out the cell.

He began to go where he could, making note of the camera's and sensors he could, by sound and by the light that surrounded them. He didn't make a fuss, and occasionally he used the wall, as if he needed a guidance. He knew he was being watched, and this was another chance to make himself seem helpless.

He imagined it fooled some of them, but not all. He eventually made his way to the cafeteria, stopping in the doorway, he listened. It was clear there was some unrest, and he scanned the crowd, easily picking out Gerswhin by her light signature.

He got some food, ignoring the people there, and headed over to Gerswhin, sitting down.

'Hello. How are you?'

[User]
Cody was the only figure that approached even close to her, so Gershwin knew who it was immediately, and smiled as she watched him sit.

'Tell me. I have this assumption. Do these people around us glow as bright as I do?'

---

[Assistant]
Cody smiled, almost shyly, and gave a shrug, stabbing a piece of cauliflower, he ate it, chewing thoughtfully. He put his fork down, and leaned forward slightly.

'Well. There's...no, not really. Some are dimmer, and that generally means they will die soon, or...they just aren't living truly. Some are bright, which generally means...they have a strong character. You...You are very bright'

He hummed, and leaned back, tilting his head as if studying Gerswhin.

'You are wondering if we glow brighter then normal people, aren't you? I can't truthfully answer that, as I don't know if I've ever met other anomalies'

He picked up his fork again, and stabbed a carrot.

---

[quote=File #40]

United Nations Anomalies Research Mission

[right]Date and Time: 09/03/2016, 1830

Analyse report-Subject 30

Analysing Subject 30's abilities is proving to be more difficult then imagined. The subject is aware that we are watching him, and aware that we know he knows we are watching them. At times it appears he is playing with us, and it becomes difficult to tell when he is. Is this merely a way for the subject to test boundaries, or something else? The subject also appears to be testing the limits of his powers, but at times this is subtle and we are unable to catch it.

Further Analyse of the subjects blood shows that, despite initially being normal asides from the light particles, there are abnormalities. The subject's blood, despite being in containment to prevent clotting (Heparin used primarily for this), the blood has clotted and studying this shows the active ability of the blood to clot to prevent loss, despite, in this case a lack of need.

Why is this so? Does this support the theory of the subject being able to heal himself? A bloody hand print left on the wall of the subject's cell does also seem to support this, but has yet to be proven conclusively. The use of specialists in this case is required, and their report is forthcoming.[/quote]

---

[User]
Gershwin only nodded in reply, and watched back as intently as she was being watched. At this point for now there really was nothing to do. Even eating seemed like a chore compared to the grand scale of things such as figuring out who they were – who they really were, and why they warranted capture like this.

Even if their stay right now was not as bad, there was nothing that could hold them back in terms of what they could do to them.

She continued eating, only because she felt like she was forced to, under the scornful gaze of eyes immediately around her, and the digital through the invisible cameras. She showed cooperation out of cooperation sake: compliance to ensure not safety, but avoiding unnecessary harm.

To be frank, she wasn't even sure if the people she's come to know here are entirely trustworthy. There was a lot more to these people that meets the eye. But to keep her guard up the entire time would be unhealthy and impractical. Not to mention, it's groundless to make the grandest of assumptions if the contradictions are present. Agent Dioxide, Agent Caits, and Cody… are the only people worth giving a damn in this place. Gershwin needed to make sure she got that.

Time had passed. It was time to return to their cells.

'Big day tomorrow, I guess. …I'll… see you.'

[Assistant]
Cody was content to sit in silence. For him, silence wasn't silence, he could hear the conversations around them easily, but he had grown use to the chatter of it all, and knew how to block it out now. It was nice just sitting there, with someone. He continued to stab his food, as if he needed to make sure it was secured on the fork, before eating it.

He gave Gershwin a smile when she spoke and nodded, pushing away from the table to stand.

'Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow'

He stayed where he was a moment, looking about the room, taking in the different shades of light. Light had its own spectrum to Cody. After a moment, he gave a sigh and started back to his cell before he could be escorted there.

He laid out on the bed provided, and closed his eyes, willing himself to drift away into sleep.

---

Cody was not sure if he slept, if he slept long or even decently, but he was aware when someone came to his cell. He rose, smoothly, and quickly went over to the hand scanner.

He laid his hand lightly on it, and beneath his palm, light glowed, copying the pattern of the last successful scan out, and in a few seconds, the scanner flashed green and the door opened.

Cody stood, as the footsteps stopped, and smiled almost shyly.

'Im sorry, Agent Caits, I just had to see if that worked

---

Agent Caits stared at Cody, who appeared pleased with himself, despite appearing shy at the same time. He had just opened his cell. Her mind flicked through what this meant. Cody could, essentially, escape through any scanner. That meant they couldn't not take their eyes off him.

Well that would be Big Boss's Job. And she wished him well with that little headache, of organizing more people to do so. It pleased her slightly, that. Cody behaved as she escorted him to further testing. She took a moment to speak with the researchers, mentioning the scanner problem as Cody settled himself happily in a chair, appearing at ease with the fact he was being tested.

---

---


[System]
Age:22

Gender: Female

Race: Nem

Appearance:

(As above, but with rounder ears! Though her hair is naturally black, she dyes it pink to stand out. A merchant's most powerful weapon is being remembered. In addition, on the occasion she needs to go outside during the day, she wears a cute, floral, wide-brimmed hat)

Personality: Sweet, caring, and good-natured on the outside. Calculating and selfish on the inside. Lirrah does what she can for the people she likes, and everyone else is scarcely a concern of hers. She has no particular investment in Velt or Ithillin aside from the knowledge that brewing hostilities are a good business venture. It would be easy to label her as another amoral war profiteer, but it's hard to make the title stick when she's personally serving hot meals to the folks on the borderlands (for a fee, of course). In any case, she is outgoing, personable, and really lays on the cute. Cute is good for business.

Brief Backstory: Born into a humble family of sweets-makers with three older brothers and three older sisters, it would be no exaggeration to say that Lirrah was the baby of the family. If she wanted acknowledgement, she had to work for it. Whether she had to lie or exaggerate or even shout, she was always yapping in order to get attention.

From a young age, this served her well, though it got on her siblings' nerves. She learned how to cook, and was quite talented, but her gift of gab often had her strutting the sand to entice customers instead. She and her family's trade became so well-known through her raw, extroverted moxie that she was considered by many to be the unofficial mascot of the store. She and her family's brand of sweets soon became inseparable.

For most attention-seekers, this amount of notoriety would be enough to live a lifetime, but Lirrah wanted more. Her cries yearned to reach more ears. She wanted to say something that the entire known world would one day need to listen to.

On her sixteenth birthday, people came from settlements all around to celebrate her. It was at this moment that she decided to cash in all the affection and goodwill she had earned from a lifetime of honeyed words as sweet as the ripest melon juice. She wanted to leave the village, and travel north. For that purpose, she collected many investors and partners who would fund and stock her caravan, with no proof of success other than the borderline disgusting amount of aplomb with which she conducted herself.

Everyone likes sweets.

Her network was enormous. The affection that everyone had for her was overflowing. And flow it did, into coins and goods and equipment that would enable her desire to reach north. As far northward as she could go… so far, and so high, that even she could look down at the world despite her people's relatively short stature.

It took a while, of course, to get everything ready. But within a few years, funds and equipment in hand, she reached Velt. This was only going to be her first stop, but it would be a profitable one. She had weapons to feed into the growing fires of hostility, and Nem glasswork and art pieces to appeal to nobles who wanted to show off how world-wise they were and who had more money than sense. With her charms, and the situation to her advantage, it was almost impossible to fail. She made a killing when she finally arrived and, happy with the numbers, decided to move onto Ithillin. What happened when everything boiled over wasn't important. What was important was making her money off both sides and getting out, continuing to reach ever northward.

The situation was not exactly as it was described to her.

The conflict was practically already happening, and the borderlands were almost a war zone, with skirmishes and bandits and monsters out in force. Lirrah learned this when she picked the most reasonably under-staffed point on the border to make her trip, and found her caravan surrounded by marauders. Though she could shoot a bow (her home village was small enough that everyone needed to learn), she was not a real fighter. Her hired muscle fell quickly to the deluge of bandits, and she was soon surrounded.

She didn't want her ambition to end there, but what could she do?

Then, the Lions roared.

Routed efficiently to the last, the bandits went from an overwhelming bellow to a simpering swan song within moments. Lirrah explained the situation to the Lions, embellishing to make herself seem less opportunistic, and she soon learned that things were more dire between the two nations than she had imagined.

A caravan cannot move north through a river of blood. Even avoiding everything else, the upcoming conflict could capture her supply chain and leave her stranded. There was nothing else for it. Thinking quickly, she talked her way into a mutually beneficial exclusivity contract with Velt during wartime. Her supply chain would be useful, and she could set up shop personally among the group that had helped her. Until the war was over, she would need to hold out. She didn't want to pick sides initially, but as it turned out, a side picked her.

Equipment: A diverse array of highly saleable wares! Within reason, of course. The art objects get sold far before they reach Lirrah, because warriors on the frontline have little need for such things. If there's something specific a soldier wants, however, she can usually get it in a week or so depending on rarity. She stocks generic weapons, along with some more interesting exotic weapons from her homeland. Nem bows, especially, are in high demand. With the ever-present threat of skirmishes, she stocks a ridiculous amount of healing potions. More high-end wares include enchanted rings and brooches, with a variety of protective effects, and even magical weapons. Nem alcohol is, to most, a novelty, but she gets enough requests from those who have taken to it to keep it in stock (and to drink herself).

When out and about, she carries a bow and a good supply of potions, as well as a few explosive flasks and acid bombs. She has an enchanted hat that cools her and gives her a lot of shade, though seeing beyond the immediate bound of that shade is still difficult as a Nem. Mostly it makes travel during daytime much more comfortable.

Skills:

Diplomancer: Lirrah is very good at talking to people, and even getting them to agree to things they normally wouldn't. She's that charming! She's a natural in any environment, from swanky party to seedy bar. She can lie as naturally as she breathes, and can make herself the center of attention with little effort. Conversely, during a combat encounter, she can turn up her cute and helpless act such that most reasonable enemies wouldn't target her unless they had no other choice. Very helpful as a merchant!

Swift: Lirrah is dexterous, agile, and quick on her feet. On the rare occasion she can't talk or act her way out of danger, she can usually escape it. Her sight, mainly in the dark, is immensely keen. She's good with a bow, though aiming far away is difficult for her during the day. She's practiced enough with the sling to fling dangerous flasks many feet away. Fast hands are useful in the kitchen, and she's also quite good at sewing and knitting.

Gourmand: Lirrah is an excellent cook. She's best at dishes from her home country, but picks up new cuisine quickly as well. Sometimes, the difference between a dead soldier and a living one is a happily-fed belly. She's especially gifted at desserts, which she can make at the level of a genius patissier. She can only make so many to her exacting standards day to day, that they run out quickly. People have gotten into fistfights over the strawberry shortcake!

[User]
"What do we do with a drunken soldier..."

The mercenary Urden was currently half humming, half singing an old working song his previous mercenary company favored when doing menial work like weapon's maintenance, setting up camp, packing up camp and other such idle behavior mostly spent just passing time. Sure enough, having spent the morning counting and verifying that his coin was both good, and in the proper amounts, for this pay cycle, he had turned to preparing for the upcoming conflict. In time with the hummed, occasionally sung, working tune, he ran a whetstone along the main blade of his two handed axe, honing its edge to as keen as he could given the circumstances. It was no blacksmith's work or anything of the sort, but it wasn't like they could expect a forge to follow this warband around so readily. The merchant who had seen fit to attach herself to the band was hawking goods, food with a voucher for pastries after words. He'd already eaten, or the offer might have been more tmepting.

"...Dock his pay with extra duty, dock his pay with extra duty..."

Urden appeared to be in a pleasant mood as he worked away, hefting the axe with practiced ease, examining the main cutting edge of the blade. Setting aside the sharpening stone, he tugged a loose hair out and let it fall on the axe blade, splitting neatly with little resistance. Nodding in approval, mostly to himself, he turned the axe over and started working on the opposite end, the spike that would be far more suited to punching through armor than it was for hacking away like the main axe head would be. So he would work, the sound of the whetstone running over well used, but well kept, steel. Nothing about the weapon was for show, the haft sturdy enough to catch incoming strikes, both ends of the axe head having their own uses. Even the other end had a sturdy steel cap on it to make for a nasty surprise for anyone who thought they were safe from a surprise strike while the obviously dangerous end was away from them. Just one of many different tricks he kept in mind when dealing with your average trouble.

"...Twenty strokes of the captains whip, twenty strokes of the captain's whip..."

Nothing about what Urden had heard so far sounded like bandits to him. They struck fast, sure, but looked for coin and valuables, maybe some living hostages to sell back later or to prevent immediate attacks on them for fear of losing even more innocent lives. Near as he'd heard from around camp, it was anything that wasn't nailed down. If you could pry it up, it didn't count either, apparently. That...that was odd. Corpses weren't worth a lick on their own, and most bounties per head only needed proof. Ears, fingers, things like that, grim as it was to some. Whole bodies though, that was a lot of dead weight, pun intended, to be lugging about. Something was amiss, though end of the day Urden got paid the same. Didn't matter what kind of out of their head bandits, soldiers, whatever was waiting out there for them. Nothing good steel backed by good pay couldn't sort out.

"...Early in the morning..."

[Assistant]
Gisela

With the camp bustling around her, Gisela felt that there was very little for her to do on a day-to-day basis. Any injuries that a small-sized force such as this might sustain outside of combat were a matter of minutes to address, and once that was done... well, she was a mage, and that meant a level of respected treatment, despite the lack of nobility in her treatment. Powerful mages were in high enough demand to receive consistent payment and be spared the indignities of manual labour, so long as they continued to fulfil the obligations that nobody else could.

Soldiering was seemingly boring enough even with monotonous tasks. Without... well, she couldn't even indulge in games of chance or similar. Nobody wanted to play with the odd suspicious mage, who knew what cheating might happen? None, really, since Gisela couldn't do subtle, but even she couldn't completely discount that something might go wrong. All the sides on dice might come up six... even the ones face down.

So, instead, she had summoned Krysia to have someone to talk to... and also so that the others could at least become accustomed to the towering demon, rather than thinking it was an enemy in the middle of battle.

Not that over eight feet of armoured inhuman muscle was doing her reputation much of a favour.

Who had taken an interest in the goods on sale. Which Gisela would be obliged to pay for, of course, and she gave a sigh as the demon tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"But what if I only want the sweet pastry? The rest doesn't interest me," the red-skinned demon wondered allowed, voice surprisingly melodious--deep, for a woman, but a lot less raspy than someone with a rather loud approach to battle.


[System]
My character:
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance: deviantart.com/art/Contest-Prize-Hard…
Ship: i.pinimg.com/736x/0d/ba/c7/0dbac7c716…
It has 2 bedrooms, a kitchen/dining room, an engine/atlas crystal room of course, a recreation deck with a round and mostly glass roof and walls at the front, and a cargo hold at the bottom back. There is also a deck to walk outside above the recreation room. Steering can be done both from inside the recreation room and on the roof in the centre of the ship. Also, this ship's crystal works on coal or other such materials instead of the ones working on electricity in more expensive ships. As in, the crystal just sits in a large furnace and as long as you have something you can burn in there the ship can keep flying.

My guy will be a treasure hunter/scavenger from a family of treasure hunters. Both his parents used to own the ship he has now. But they managed to get enough money to buy a new one, and he got this one as a gift on his 18th birthday. At first he flew together with his parents, but eventually he started going out on his own. And now he flies on his own entirely, though he still visits his parents every now and then. Or sees them at treasure hunter/scavenger/bounty hunter hangouts at times.

Equipment:
-6 shot revolver, going more for destructive power than accuracy or range.
-Goggles to protect against the wind.
-Mechanical grappling hook that can attach and detach itself on command.
-A lead pipe for use as melee weapon - he plans to save up for a proper melee weapon.
-Gatling gun mounted on top of the deck which uses armour-shredding rounds for anti-air defence.

[User]
Just like many before it, another airship entered the port of the small outlaw town of Aersummit. This town was divided up into two areas. First there was the area on top of the sky island, about a kilometre in length and half a kilometre in width. Small houses made of wood, scrap metal and rope littered the area, creating a maze of alleys and small open areas where people met. Both ends of the island were instead occupied by larger buildings made of mostly stone and some metal. These were the most important areas as this was where trade happened. A hotel, some shops, a tavern or two, and of course the docks were found in these areas. Bounty hunters, scavengers and traders met up here to do their business. And then there was the literal underbelly. A few spots had wooden walkways going down to below the surface of the sky island. There, houses were build against and into the cliffs. Most people stayed away from this area. And it wasn't because there was nothing but the clouds below them. This was the area where the true outlaws were found. Thieves, pirates, treasure hunters, slavers, and traders that operated in the black market.

The airship that had just arrived looked rather old. It still seemed to work just fine, but it had certainly been in use for more than one generation. Most people would have probably tried to buy a new ship by now, but not the owner of this ship. After it's mooring lines had been secured by the dock workers, out stepped a younger looking man with a bright smile on his lips. A moment later a small Fennec Fox ran out as well, before quickly jumping onto the man's back and moving kind of curl around his neck. The man approached one of the dock's managers that was waiting for him at the bottom of his boarding plank. Still with the same bright smile he greeted the worker before the worker could even ask for his name. "Good afternoon sir! Jacob Welsh's the name. And this little guy is Peanut." The manager raised a brow, but only nodded in response. After writing down Jacob's name the manager finally spoke. "Welcome to Aersummit, Jacob. State your business and intended length of stay please." "Mhh..." Jacob muttered as he thought. "Well, I plan to find some work to do, and I'll probably stay until tomorrow morning, though it depends on if I can indeed find work." The manager nodded. "Very well, it's 75 dollars for the first day, and 100 dollars for each extra day." Jacob didn't even wait for the man to explain. He already reached into his pocket and took out a 50, 20 and 5 dollar bill and handed it to the man. The manager nodded, taking the money. "I see you've been here before." Jacob nodded in return. "I'm a regular, actually. But I'm used to no one remembering my face at the docks. Anyway, time's short so I'm off to find work!" The manager nodded disinterestedly as he put the money away, turning his attention back to his work again.

Jacob knew this town like the back of his pocket. It was his main base of operations outside of his airship, you could say. So he had no problem finding the tavern closest to where he was. His plan was to stay in the upper area for now since if possible he wanted to keep his work legal. But he still needed to bring food to his and his pet's plate, so if things didn't work out he would head to the lower area in the evening.

Soon he found himself stepping into a building; The trumpet bar. Apparently the name came from the previous owner's love for playing the trumpet. Though that man had passed away a few years ago. "Powell! Pour me a Brutal black will ya~" Jacob spoke as he sat down at the bar. It was basically just a strong dark beer. People in this place just liked giving drinks though sounding names to make themselves look though when ordering. "Jacob, ya sly bastard! Came to make trouble again have ya?" The barkeep replied, moving to pour the man his drink. "Hey, I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble looks for me!" Both laughed heartily. Jacob was a regular at this place. And while it was indeed true that he tended to get himself into trouble, for Powell it was just a way of greeting a friend.

[Assistant]
So… she had a destination, she had an object and she had a buyer but… she had no way to get there… A long sigh left the young girl with short blue hair as she munched away on a cracker in her hotel room. Damn, she had some high hopes in thinking she might not have to split any of this income from the job. However, it looked like that was not going to be the case.

Blinking her violet colored eyes, she stood from her bed and preceded her complete her steps to leave. A quick shower, teeth brushed and hair combed, dressed and packets into her duffle bag, the girl exited the room and proceeded towards the lobby.

Checking out of the hotel was bitter sweet. She did hate the idea of having to leave the comfortable room that had been her home for the past couple of weeks. But at the same time, she's thankful not to be spending money on a room anymore. This was Rei Carpenter and she was a little more than your average traveler.

In fact the woman carrying the duffle bag over her shoulder was really one of the last members of the LeFontaine Family. The LeFontaine family was gentleman thieves in their own right. Stealing from those who can afford to have things 'go missing' and using that money to support themselves and sometimes others was part of her family's code; however, they did have a bad habit of not including everyone in on their ideas and… some people didn't take too kindly to that. That Seth guy hated her because he got caught, which was not her fault, and now seeks vengeance against her for his time in prison. And that was her last time working with an 'upstanding citizen'. And now you know why she's at Aersummit.

Placing her free hand on her brown jean covered hip, her gaze scanned across the land. Okay, now I have to find another transportation… She thought, however a cringe moved through her body; she would have to fly to the next job and flying was something she dreaded. Taking a spot on a bench she dug through her bag until she found a pre-designed flyer, one of her many; that specifically asked for a pilot, boy it's been a while since she used this one. As much as she dreaded the idea of using this form of transportation she didn't have a choice.

Heading to the location bar, "The Trumpet Bar" She ventured inside went straight to the bulletin board. Pinning the job flyer up, she turned and walked to the bar, sitting a few spots down from Jacob and ordering herself a scotch on the rocks.

The sign read as follows –
SEEKING CAPTAIN.
Looking for be flown to and from a destination.
Cost is up for discussion; a percentage of the cut can be offered in place of standard payment but ya don't get both.
Must have able-bodied ship with a guest room, cargo bay, and be okay with some rough things.

Order a "Rocky Mountain Beer" and the bartender will point you to me.

[User]
Jacob noticed a rather peculiar woman walking in. She wasn't usually the type to come to a bar like this. And though he wasn't nearly always there, he certainly didn't recognize her. And so didn't Powell from the looks of it. Though what piqued his interest was whe nshe posted a note on the bulletin board. This bar was on the surface of the island, so no one would be stupid enough to post blatantly illegal jobs here. And the ones that were only just posted had a far higher chance to be good, or at least decent. So Jacob was quick to get up, beer still in hand, and walk over to the newly posted note.

"Captain needed...needs transport...percentage of the cut huh?" Jacob mumbled softly to himself. The man thought deeply for a few moments before turning to his furry pet. "What do you think Peanut?" The Fennec Fox chirped in response. Which was somehow enough to convince him. "All right~" He spoke, taking the notice off of the board and walking back over to the bar. As he took a large swig he sat down right next to the woman whom had just posted the note and glanced at her.

"Do give me an indication of how much I can earn with this. If I like what I hear you might have a captain for your job right away." He flashed a bright smile, though still didn't turn all the way towards the woman. Of course Jacob wanted to know at least a bit more about this job than just what was on the note. After all, there were still people who tried to sneak in dirty jobs along with the legal and grey area jobs in this place.

[Assistant]
It felt like ages until Rei's drink arrived. A long sigh left her when the sweet elixir of alcohol ran down her throat after a long drink. Work didn't sound fun but she needed to rebuild her funds as she could. Now if only she could find a captain. The last guy she worked with was nice… enough, but careless. He didn't stay put like she told him to and refused to listen to her instructions and nearly got both of them caught. Luckily, Rei was much more experienced in dealing with stupid choices than she'd like to admit and was able to get them out of the situation he got them in (not that he'd ever take responsibility for it). Now he blames her for the damage to her ship and it is all 'you owe me this' and 'you need to pay me for that'; hence her need for a new captain. And the sooner the better before the asshole finds her.

A body sat in the chair next to her, her gaze moved downwards to see that he had the flyer in his hand. Boy that was fast, luck must be on her side. Thinking that thought she gently knocked on the wood on the bar. She wasn't superstitious but she knew better to press any luck that turned its way to her. "Standard pay is 10,000. You fly, park and wait for me to come back, not even a day, than return me here. Simple as that." She said with a nod as she brought scotch to her lips and took another drink. This time she hissed a bit at cup as the ice had hit her lips and caused a chill through her body.

Placing the glass down, "5,000 when we get there; the rest when you get me back. It's a day's flight to and from. I'm willing to supply food and some utilities. Unless you take the percentage of the cut of the job; that percentage is 25% but the payout might be less than what I can offer for a standard pay which is not my fault." She turned in the chair to face him, one long jean covered leg crossed over the other as she leaned her side against the bar and propped her chin in her hand as she watched him. "You get one or the other, not both. What's your answer? If it's a no to either option please put my flyer back up." She said giving him a tender smile. Any help was better than the asshole from before and she had no reason to be rude to him.


[System]
Alias: War Wolf
Age: 329 years old
Gender: Male
Occupation: Soldier in the Brazilian Black Ops Division, 'Bastões Pretos', the "Black Bats".
Demeanor: Chico is a rough-and-tumble, aggressive, jovial individual who finds joy in fighting. He is honorable, but will sacrifice honor for pragmatism.

Basic Appearance

Hair: A cropped, dark brown military cut.
Facial Hair: A most epic goatee.
Eyes: Green.
Build: Tall, broad, heavyset, muscular.
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 220 lb.
Special Features: His goatee is so majestic, women immediately must concentrate so they do not swoon, out of the pure majesty. It is said that this is how he saved Sao Paulo from Voodoo Demon Ladies.

Combat Credentials

Combat Style: Capoeira, Savate, Muay Thai, Boxing, and of course, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu are all under his belt. He is a master of hand-to-hand fighting, with weapons or not.

-Knows mainly strike-based martial arts.
-Is proficient with many ranged weapons, from mounted vehicular weapons to bows and arrows, Chico can use every weapon he touches, due to his extensive combat experience.

Abilities: Chico is blessed. Born in 1771 to a single mother of varying repute, he has fought in every revolution, every war that Brazil has had. For unknown reasons (usually attributed to being born by an angel, the result of alchemy, and even being chosen by the Tupi gods to be an immortal warrior,) Chico does not age, and cannot be poisoned, or affected by disease. However, his body has no further resistance to weapons, even if he is slightly stronger than the average man.

(Tl;Dr):
- Can't age, be poisoned, or catch a disease.
- Is slightly stronger than the normal human, able to affect about 2x more weight.
- Is slightly faster (2x normal human), due to his muscles. His reactions have adapted to higher speeds after 260 years of fighting.
- His body, unfortunately, provides no resistance to damage. He can be killed with gunfire, a knife, or even falling.

Gear
Long-Range X40MF "Eliminator" Disruption Rifle- A lightweight, compact black rifle, the Eliminator is a weapon capable of punching through traditional battleship plate armor, passing through matter by explosively rearranging the atoms, it has an effective range of 1/2 a mile - 2 miles, although it is not recommended for engagements within the 1/2 mile due to the ordinance type, which has to have a certain time to charge, as it is unstable within the gun. It has 6 shots in any one magazine.

12mm "Atlas" Boltcannon- A large, heavy railgun that just so happens to be a sidearm as well, the Atlas pistol fires 12mm bolts at a high velocity, nearly silently. Functionally, it works the same as a normal handgun, except with less recoil and noise. It has 12 shots in each magazine.

10-inch XOS Combat/Survival Knife- A 10-inch blade bade of a Titanium-Carbide alloy.

Hades Hooded Nanite-Wired Stealth Armor (HHN-WSA) Mk. 25- A marvel of science, the nanite wiring in the jacket, vest, and pants provide superior protection against bludgeoning, slashing (up to 1208 Joules of force in both categories), and even thermal damage (-240 to 2280 Degrees Fahrenheit). However, the nanites cannot defend against piercing damage, such as a knife or a spear. (Bullets aren't stopped, but they are slowed considerably.)

Helios Sealed Facemask Mk5- The HSF Mk5 is a completely airtight gasmask with built-in hyperspectral vision, HUD, and comm system.

M256 SAW LMG- A .65 Caliber, drum-loaded machine gun with 1600 rounds, that fires at 1200 rounds/minute. This beast of a gun shreds through material like tissue. It punches through light vehicle armor with ease, and has a fairly wide spread, able to destroy quite a bit at medium range, although it is thoroughly useless at long range.

H-MAC Rotary Grenade Launcher- Holding 12 35mm HE grenades, the H-MAC is a canister-reloaded launcher, that fires grenades fairly rapidly. The grenades have a 15-foot blast radius.

SCAR-AS Mk4- A battle rifle with 30 rounds a mag, and a 600 RPM capability, which fires 7.62×51mm NSATO (North-South America Treaty Organization) rounds. A typical Battle Rifle used by the NSATO forces.

10-inch XOS Combat/Survival Knife- A 10-inch blade bade of a Titanium-Carbide alloy.

"Ashur" NCHAP (New Caliphate Heavy Armor Platform)- A suit with Tungsten-Titanium plating, covered in a Ring Carbon laminate, both of which are insanely resistant to damage. The suit's capabilities are:

-Resistance to most forms of physical damage, making anything less than a vehicle-mounted weapon useless against it.
-Resistance from virtually every radiation known to man, although the suit is unable to withstand tactical nuclear warheads, heavy plasma/laser arrays, the sun, etc.
-Physical enhancement to be able to move normally with the suit on.
-Self-contained oxygen tanks worth 3 hours of breath.
-A command suite with motion tracking, IFF, hyperspectral vision, telescopic vision (200x human sight), electric ambiance sensor, sonar, and comms.

Bio: Chico was born to a lady of the evening in 1771, in Sao Paulo. From a young age, he was a fighter. So, he put his natural disposition to use, and became a warrior. However, he discovered, when his mother died, that he could not age, and was immune to poison or disease. So he did what he was best at, fighting for his home, even in the current year of 2100.

[User]
"... and that's how I saved Rio de Janeiro from the Eight Syndicates of 2050." The workmen around him clapped, cheering him on. It was a story they had all heard before as children, how the War Wolf of the Brasil Republique had gone on many adventures in his life. Hell, he was a legend, a real-life Captain America. He had comic books, movies, and novels written about him. It was pretty flattering, if Chico were to be honest.

If America weren't an oligarchy which in no way resembled its' founding values now- anyways, that was neither here nor there. Taking a sip of water from the cooler they were all drinking from, Chico prepared to tell another story, back from the 1990's, when he had assisted the Colombian Confederacy in their American-Backed 'War on Drugs', when a scream split the dusty air of the reconstruction site.

Immediately throwing his helmet back on, feeling the familiar pressurized hiss of the internal oxygen filters purifying the air in his lungs, and the HUD came alive, marking all of the construction workers within a 1000 meter radius with blue dots, and showing Chico that there was a foreign presence about 10 meters away, and three stories down. Sprinting forward, Chico leapt from the edge, and free-fell through the air, getting a complete view of the situation.

Some stereotypically British doof of a salaryman had just ripped out the foreman for this sector's spine. That was one indication that he was more than human, but his EAS (Electric Ambiance Sensor) confirmed it. This guy glowed like a HyperChristmas tree, evidence of some scramblers, which meant a cyborg, because there was no way that he had the means to scramble ECM and rip out a man's spine otherwise.

Landing in the superhero position, Chico grabbed his SCAR off its' position on his lower back, and whipped it around quicker than the eye can see, pointing it at the cyborg's center mass.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but if you don't stand down and surrender, you and I are going to have quite a bit of fun before I put you six feet under." Xil Gil couldn't see his smile, but Chico was grinning wildly. "And believe me, I want you to try something. It's been so long since I had a good fight."

As soon as the cyborg opened his mouth, Chico fired, letting loose at full automatic at the doofy-looking murderer.

[Assistant]
Xil Gil had indeed been about to say something, having even begun twirling an index finger to accentuate some snobby remark. He then staggered back as bullets pounded against his body, maroon blood spattering from multiple skin-deep holes. His designer coat and undershirt were torn apart as easily as tissue paper, revealing a skinny but unusually chistled upper body criss-crossed in at least two-dozen places by long suture scars.

That kind of rifle could rip a normal man's arm off. Xil Gil, not even close to normal, began quickly pacing towards Chico, the crableg latching mechanisms on his feet digging into the ground and preventing the hail of hot lead from throwing him off balance. As he did so he extended both arms, palms open and in the rifle's line of fire.
He could tough out plenty of gunfire, but if enough bullets were to nail him, it could eventually start damaging his composite muscle fibers. Xil Gil's hands, though, were virtually invulnerable to bullets. They had to be, in order to allow him to squeeze nearly any material into putty.

He'd track Chico's aim with his hands as if they were a pair of tiny shields, trying to take as much heat away from his body as he could. There weren't any sparks, no. That's only in the movies. Instead it looked as if dozens of white smoke puffs were erupting from Xil Gil's hands.

All the while the cyborg slipped closer, he kept trying to yell something over the thunderous noise.

"SELF-DEFENSE!! SELF-DEFENSE!! I AM UPHOLDING MY RIGHT AS A CITIZEN OF THIS FINE STATE TO DEFEND MYSELF!!"

Yes. It was true. This was all taking place in Florida. Still a shit place in the future.

[User]
Doctor Chico saw the thin spray of blood as his bullets hit center mass, and smiled. So he could be hurt by bullets. He wasn't some sort of invincible tank. Then, he raised his hands, and Chico frowned. White puffs of smoke, like hitting sandbags or armored plate. Alternating his aim towards different parts of the man's body, the man managed to track the bullets. Interesting. So he had enhanced reflexes, like Chico, and unlike Chico, had armor focused on his hands. Well then, it seemed that he would have to rectify that situation.

Holding the SCAR steady in his right hand, and continuing to fire, Chico reached around his back, and grabbed the H-MAC, leveling it at the ground in front of the British cyborg. "Pretty sure that's not how the law works when you kill someone unprovoked, pendejo!"

Holding down the trigger, Chico unloaded the H-MAC into the ground, 12 grenades exploding in the span of two seconds.

[Assistant]
When Chico took a hand off his rifle, Xil Gil broke into a dead sprint. Up until that point he had just been power walking. He wasn't super fast, but he wasn't a slacker neither. By the time the grenade launcher had been aimed, Xil Gil would be less than three yards away. He wasn't focusing on blocking the bullets anymore, knowing that the recoil would be too unpredictable to bother with.

Of course, Xil Gil hadn't known a grenade launcher was involved. He saw an opponent reach for something and decided to try and make a rush. When the cyborg saw what was now being pointed in his direction, his expression shifted from that of malignant confidence to jaw dropping surprise and dismay.

"CHRIST IT'S A BLOODY CANNON!!"

Both would be in the explosive range of the grenades, but should Chico be crazy-assed enough to fire anyways, Xil Gil would have an answer. Of course, there being so little time to react, the cyborg would do this anyways. A gamble. His lead foot would bury itself in the ground and latch on, knee bending, center of gravity dropping, momentum screeching to a near instant stop. No vanilla human could have possibly replicated it. Should Chico have been leading his shots, then instead of firing right directly in front of Xil Gil the grenades would land further away and forwards. At the same time then Xil Gil would leap backwards from the brief crouch he had entered during his momentum cancellation.

If that all came to pass, Xil Gil would be knocked further back by the detonations and great clouds of dust and debris would obscure what had happened to him.

Now, if Chico held off on firing, he'd see the derpy killer suddenly stop and jump back out of reflex, conveniently providing the soldier with a safer opening to fire grenades.