[hider=Felicia Takashi]
[u][b]Basic Information[/b][/u]

[b]Name:[/b] 
[INDENT][i]Felicia Takashi[/i][/INDENT]
[b]Nickname/Alias/Etc:[/b] 
[INDENT][i]Lissy, Rabbit, Stop-Sign[/i][/INDENT]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[INDENT]Female[/INDENT]
[b]Age:[/b]
[INDENT]19[/INDENT]
[b]Height:[/b] 
[INDENT]5'0ft[/INDENT]
[b]Weight:[/b] 
[INDENT]115lbs[/INDENT]
[b]Home District:[/b] 
[INDENT]Rosalina Isle – Turtle-Creek[/INDENT]

[b][u]Appearance[/u][/b]

[b]Hair Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Black with lilac-dyed streaks[/INDENT] 
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Amber with green flecks[/INDENT] 
[b]Ethnicity:[/b]
[INDENT]Hungarian-Japanese[/INDENT] 
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b]
[INDENT]Felicia is rail thin and small in almost every way, her body lacking any major feminine curves. Her skin is fair alabaster and has little to no blemishing marring it's perfection. On her heart-shaped face are a small button nose over a smallish pink pair of lips that seem to always be smiling ever so slightly. The only large thing about her are her large, slanted amber-hued eyes. “Doll” is probably the first thing most people think when they see her, or that she's a young teenager as she appears many years younger than her true age. She takes after her father's Japanese ethnicity almost entirely in her looks, and only those who look closely will see she isn't completely asian. Her silky black hair is cut short in back and hangs long in front, with swooping bangs hiding her forehead and parts of her face, generous lilac streaks twined throughout. The only make-up she'll plaster on her face is a light coating of mascara and some lip balm to keep her lips from getting dry.[/INDENT] 

[b]Attire:[/b] 
[INDENT]Even while it's completely hot outside Felicia will wear her black rabbit-eared hoodie with the hood down, the zipper undone, and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her pants are typically flowy shorts or skirts with skin-tight knee-length leggings covering her legs. Underneath her hoodie she wears loose tanktops. She prefers wearing flip-flops over any other kind of foot-wear, but wears a functional pair of running shoes while working out. The designs on her clothing are usually splashes of color or artistic, though her tanktops are typically adorned with video game characters on the front. As far as accessories go, she has a bracelet with detachable steel charms on it that have a running theme of video game weapons. (The Master Sword and Hyrule Shield (Link – Zelda), a Gunblade (Cloud – Final Fantasy), a Keyblade (Sora – Kingdom Hearts), a Energy Sword (Master Chief – Halo), a pair of bladed Tonfas (Talim – Soul Calibur), and Masamune (Sephiroth – Final Fantasy) rounding out her collection). [/INDENT]

[b][u]Personality[/u][/b]

[b]Innate & Outward Personality:[/b]
[INDENT]Felicia puts on a good show for anyone she meets. She appears to be content, somewhat joking, and generally easy to get along with - but not overly kind. She has sailed through her middle-to-late teenage life without gaining any true friends, just many acquaintances. She'll smile if you smile, wave if you wave. What you give is what you get, but she draws the line before she can get more involved with any one person to a substantial degree. If the person tries to push her into a friendship, she'll think of the rudest thing she can say to get them off of her back.

Inwardly, she is a ball of emotion, anger, frustration, and still relives the day of her sister's death over and over again. She fixates on how she could have prevented it, and this ends up spilling over into her aspects of life. She tries to cause very little trouble for her family, and takes the verbal beat downs her mother lathers her with, with a hint of stoicism and a well-leashed tongue. Sure, she gets angry at her mother. So angry that she sees red, but Felicia refuses to confront her mother based off of pure stubbornness and an unwillingness to repeat past mistakes. 

She retreats into doing physical activities to quell her emotions, and this has made her life purely: dojo, gym, vigilantism. On her resting days, she retreats into her bedroom for isolation. 

Her self-induced isolation started after the death of her sister, and she's made sure that she focuses on her goals in life: becoming a vigilante to stop petty crime down in [i]Las Palmas[/i]. This doesn't make her a hero, however. She hates the thugs she beats up to a remarkable degree, and her vendetta is one filled with many sleepless nights crouching in shadows or on rooftops waiting for some poor sap to step one toe out of line. Luckily for her, it happens every night. She hasn't gotten away scrape-free from her encounters, and has found herself with bruised rips and a black eye on more than one occasion. 
[/INDENT] 

[b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b]
[INDENT]Martial arts have been a long-term hobby of hers and she practices her style religiously (Okinawan Goju Ryu) while attending a dojo, along with mixed martial arts at a gym over in Priscilla Isle. She's also an avid video game junkie and is rarely seen without a handheld system. At home she uses her computer to play games competitively online.[/INDENT]

[b]Skills/Talents:[/b] 
[INDENT]In the same that martial arts are her hobby, you could say that they are they essence of her skills. With little interest in other things besides video games, she has become very good at what she does, which is mostly defensive. She knows how to use bo staffs, nunchaku, three-sectional staffs, sai, katanas and tonfas. Her size makes her lacking in raw power, but she employs arm-locks and take downs with finesse. When in action, she appears as if she's a monkey, deftly maneuvering around her opponent and nearly climbing them to perform moves. Her reach is her greatest weakness in this regard, but her size allows her to dodge attacks that might have hit another, larger person.[/INDENT]

[b]Prized Possession:[/b]
[INDENT]A Stop-Sign. Though not exactly a prized possession in the same way that most other people have, it is a token from a very traumatic incident in her life. She has fashioned it into a shield with leather straps.[/INDENT] 

[b]Quote(s):[/b] 
[INDENT][i]

“If you ever hurt anyone again, I'll make sure you feel it twice as bad.”[/i][/INDENT]

[b]History/Bio:[/b]
[INDENT]As the child of an upper class family there was nothing that Felicia could want for. She had status, friends, and everything that her heart desired material-wise. She grew up pampered in a ritzy school, with equally ritzy friends. Throughout her childhood she never truly understood compromise or obedience, and her attitude became reckless and rebellious during her very early teenage years (11-12). She would skip school, or stay out later than she was supposed to. Soon, it evolved into her doing drugs (smoking weed, primarily) with her other prissy friends and hanging out in the “bad” parts of town. It soon became enough for her busy and inattentive parents to notice and they began to set rules and guidelines for her, sometimes with very serious repercussions. When it became apparent to her that she would actually begin to lose her freedoms, she obeyed for the most part until her mother and her got into a fight that was bad enough to send Felicia bolting for the door and out into the dusky night.

She escaped to the [i]Las Palmas Strip[/i], a place her and her friends enjoyed going to, to be “dangerous” and “edgy” and sat on the corner of a curb, miffed at the “injustices” of her life. She hadn't been there long when a rather seedy man, who was later revealed to be a child trafficker through investigations, took notice of her. “You alone?” He asked as he sidled up on to her. She was too miffed at her mom to think about her response, which was incredibly stupid: “Yeah. Mom is a bitch.” She mumbled loud enough for him to hear. “That sucks. You should come to my place. Your mom cant bother you there.” 

Though Felicia was a spoiled brat, her stomach felt as if it had fallen into an abyss. She knew trouble when she saw it, real trouble, and she declined his offer with a shaky “No thanks, bye” and began to get up to to get as far from him as possible. He grabbed for her, his hands nearly clamping down on her thin wrist, but she slipped free in time and ran back in the direction of Turtle-Creek, screaming for help as she ran.
 
She was breathless and tired, but she didn't stop running. Coming up on a four-way stop, she saw the familiar face of her older sister, Elizabeth, across from her on the opposite side. Elizabeth yelled for Felicia, a mixture of relief and anger twining through her voice. Obviously Elizabeth had been out and about looking for her younger sister. Felicia was pure relief, thankful that she was saved by her sister. That was when she felt a strong pair of hands on her shoulders and she jerked free, screaming and bolting towards her sister. She heard Elizabeth bellow with rage, “DON'T TOUCH MY SISTER!!!” and begin to run at speed that Felicia hadn't believed her older sister was capable of until then. That was when it happened.

Elizabeth was there one moment, hand outstretched and a tears streaming down her face that was pulled into a snarl, then a loud screech and she rag dolled against the force of the car ramming into her at 90mph, the life gone from her before she hit the pavement in a pool of blood and missing limbs. Beside her a stop-sign fell to the ground were the car had rammed into it and Elizabeth. The car immediately rocketed away from the scene without any preamble. Felicia faintly heard, as if the sound was coming from another world, “Oh fuck, I'm outta here!” and the footfalls of the man who had tried to kidnap her as he ran from the horrific hit-and-run that just unfolded before him. 

Her powers manifested then and she heard the stop-sign lamenting over the death of a pedestrian. The wails of the stop-sign mirrored her own as she huddled in the road, hugging the mangled corpse of her sister. When police and paramedics arrived at the scene, they found Felicia speaking to the stop-sign and rocking the body of her sister back and forth, a strange glint in her eyes.

To say the death of her sister effected her greatly would be an understatement. She was devastated and broken, a shell of her former self for a long time after. She was sent to one of the best mental institutions for months after the death of Elizabeth, a complete gibbering mess. She repeated over and over “I can hear all the voices”. Nobody understood what it meant, but eventually Felicia figured out her powers. She's kept them secret from her family, and was soon released after she became more coherent.
 
For many years after, instead of socializing like she used to, she spent her days attending martial arts classes at a nearby dojo and, sometime later, going to a gym over on Priscilla Isle. When she wasn't doing that, she was playing video games in her free time. She became a model student, at least more so than she had been before, doing her homework and attending classes. She graduated successfully two years ago, and has spent that time since being a vigilante, using the stop-sign from her sister's murder scene to take down would-be rapists and thugs in the dead of night as she trolls [i]Las Palmas Strip[/i]. Her costume is a scarf covering her lower face and the hood of her favorite hoodie pulled up over her hair. She's earned the nickname [i]Stop-Sign[/i] because nearly all of the people she's thwarted have only seen a bigger and harder than normal stop-sign bashing into them before they're knocked unconscious.
 
With her power being so obscure, she's glided under the radar of NEST for two years, but she's scared that her luck might soon run out as she continually gains popularity among the locals.[/INDENT] 

[u][b]Relationships[/b][/u]

[b]Family:[/b] 
[INDENT][b]Hideyaki Takashi[/b] | [b]Father[/b] | [b][i]Alive[/i][/b] – He's a quiet and stern man, but he loves his daughter though he may not tell her that often. A wealthy business man with a lot on his plate.

[b]Amalia Vegh-Takashi[/b] | [b]Mother[/b] | [b][i]Alive[/i][/b] – She's extremely pompous and stuck up, and hates her daughter. Their personalities clash so frequently that Felicia rarely returns home if she knows her mother is around or awake. She is a trophy-wife and an heiress of a large fortune.

[b]Elizabeth Takashi[/b] | [b]Sister – Older[/b] | [b][i]Deceased[/i][/b] – When Elizabeth was alive she and Felicia weren't the closest, but they did have their bonding moments. She was the prized daughter of the family with a bright future ahead of her at a prominent university. 
[/INDENT]

[b]Dynamics:[/b]
TBA.

[b][u]Abilities[/u][/b]

[b]Power Class:[/b]
[INDENT]Other[/INDENT] 
[b]Power:[/b] 
[i]Object Enhancement[/i]
[INDENT]She has the ability to talk to and enhance man-made objects. She can reinforce them, making them more durable and hard than they were before, or make them larger or smaller. A nail-file? No problem, that can become a sword. A very blunt sword. She can't change their composition entirely, just make what they are into something harder or larger/smaller.[/INDENT]

[b]Limits:[/b]
[INDENT]
[b]Hardness/Durability:[/b] They can't become overly more powerful than what they were originally. Paper can't become steel in it's durability, but it can become more of a soft-plastic. Enough to stop a sloppily thrown punch, but not much else. Steel can become more unwilling to bend and brake, but not sharper. If a metahuman with impressive strength were to hit it, however, it would fold under the pressure. Piercing rounds penetrate it, as well as piercing weapons (so bullets/rapiers/etc.)

[b]Length/Size:[/b] She can't make something larger than 4x4, nor smaller than 8x8ft, and she can control the sizes individually. The larger or smaller she makes it from it's original size, the weaker the object gets and the less hits it can take. She can only change the size of a stand alone object, meaning no buildings, floors, etc.

[b]Distance:[/b] She must touch the object.

[b]Other Limits:[/b] If there is something living within the object she's trying to enhance/change, she can't do it. Period. Clothes and armor are out of the question for her to try to control while a person is wearing them. Controlling objects that another metahuman has summoned is impossible. Her power works on an object for ten minutes before she needs to reapply it. She isn't capable of making objects move on their own.[/INDENT]

[b]Weaknesses/Drawbacks:[/b] 
[INDENT]Manipulating objects repeatedly, especially unfamiliar ones, gives her headaches that lead very quickly into blinding, searing migraines. She must first befriend an object, treat it well, and then it becomes somewhat easier for her to use. The process can take a significant amount of time (months) - making on-the-fly manipulation an extremely painful process for her.[/INDENT]

[b][u]Other:[/u][/b] 
[INDENT][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wl8kze9TP6Q[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PHbR3xf6Vs[/youtube][/INDENT]

[b][u]Sample Post:[/u][/b]
[INDENT]Sweat beaded on her forehead underneath her “costume”, which was simply a rabbit-eared hoodie and a black scarf to cover her nose and mouth, as she crouched on the rooftop of a stripper bar in [i]Las Palmas[/i]. It was warm tonight, and uncomfortably warm inside her current apparel, but it didn't deter her from her mission. She knew what happened in the alleyways behind these places, and what happened to the strippers who tried to rush home as quickly as possible after their shifts.
 
What they did inside was their own business, if it was the only way for them to afford to live, so be it. But Felicia, or [i]Stop-Sign[/i] as she was called, made sure that they didn't have to be subjected to sexual harassment or rape outside of their work places. Or extortion. That was popular among the community here, extorting strippers who weren't already under a pimp into giving them their just-earned cash. Any thug could hassle an unclaimed stripper. The pimps praised it, as it made the girls seek refuge under them, thus earning cash flow. At least with the pimp they could keep [i]some[/i] of their money and avoid being beaten as badly the ones who went solo. 

The slam of metal on metal from below in the alley way told Felicia that one of the strippers was in a rush as she opened and closed the heavy back door to the joint. Felicia crawled along the roof to peer down at the retreating back of a woman in low-rise jeans, a pair of converse, a tank top and a baseball cap over her locks of blonde hair.  Obviously she wasn't one of the ones under a pimp, they'd walk around in practically nothing, advertising themselves for business. 

Felicia followed her target over rooftops that were relatively near to each other, a small jump here, a quick use of her powers to bridge a larger gap, and she kept pace relatively well. The woman below was actively glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting to be followed by someone. All of the sudden, a figure came from the shadows ahead of her, and stepped in her path. A large man with colorful tattoos spanning the left side of his face and running down beneath his crisp suit. He wasn't the usual thug, considering his clothes. A pimp offering her work? Whoever it was, and whatever they wanted, the stripper didn't want any of it. She turned and bolted as fast as her legs would take her. He sighed loudly and then ran after her. The stripper tripped suddenly, and was then cleverly cornered between the wall of a building and large dumpster full of some pretty rank trash by her suit-wearing assailant. She shouted for help, though it was a weak attempt. Something about this man scared her, and she knew she'd never receive help in time for him to do whatever it is he was going to do.

“Queue me,” Felicia lips curved up into a snarl and then she hopped from her vantage point, using her powers on an extra scarf she kept in her pocket to glide down to the ground not far below. In her backpack was her signature stop-sign, and she pulled it out as soon as she hit the ground running, using her powers to harden it and make it grow to shield her body. She connected with the man going at a full-on run, and she heard him grunt as he staggered. [i]Shit.[/i] She thought, bringing her foot around to the back of his knee as he staggered, causing him to fall to one knee. Normally charging into them at a full run was enough to knock most of the thugs she encountered over, but this brute was large and nearly all muscle, it seemed. She might have picked a fight she couldn't win. She gripped her stop-sign with both hands and brought it crashing down on his skull with all of her strength, and he merely grunted again, dazed but not out.

“Please for the love of all that is holy, [i]run now.[/i]” She barked at the stripper who was still huddled in the corner by the dumpster. The stripper obeyed, fleeing and not looking back. Her footfalls were the only sound other than the tattooed thug in his dusty suit cussing and sputtering.  Felicia kept him dazed enough, and switched up her attacks to include kicking dirt into his face, and now he was wildly swinging and cussing. [i]Great.[/i] He grazed her side with one of his impossibly large fists while blinded, and it hurt enough to cause her to double over momentarily. [i]Fuck, I think he got one of my ribs![/i] She could almost feel the bruise blossoming across her midsection just seconds after his fist bumped her. She was sure that, that was a bump and not a full on punch from this man.

She thrust her hand into her pocket as she backed up and extracted a ziplock bag of ground black pepper. She opened it and then chucked it directly at his face. He roared as pepper infiltrated his eyes, nose, and mouth, disabling him more effectively than the dirt or her stop-sign. She was so out of here.

When she came to the corner of the alley way, she looked back and saw the thug looking directly at her. His fists balled at his sides, his face stained with snot and tears, but he wasn't following her. She was more than spooked, and she ran faster than she had in a long time. [/INDENT] 
[/hider]