Shard

Closed

-

Eh. not really in the mood to GM an rp right now.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Alias:
Seraph.

Speech Color:
fff79a.

Character Alignment:
Hero.

Daily Occupation:
Doctor.

Identity:
Secret.

Character Personality:
Calm, collected and soothing, Mikha’il appears to possess an otherworldly harmony emanating from the celestial serenity surrounding him. Polite, maybe to a fault, and honorable, it would be safe to categorize Mikha’il as noble and a gentleman. He doesn’t appear to possess a zealous attitude towards anything, and seems to be at peace no matter the circumstances. Surely, there is something less than human embracing his gaze. Being an angel, Mikha’il radiates with heaven’s serenity and appears above many worldly worries but does not stray from showing compassion to those around him. A Seraph, Mikha’il has a sworn duty to defend the innocent as a guardian of light, and strike down the foes created by ill intent.

Compassion is indeed something one could brand Mikha’il guilty of. As the words state, Help Thy Neighbor, the angel does not hesitate to rush towards those in need of aid. As planet earth is a nexus of disaster, misery and otherworldly threats, Mikha’il stands as a barrier between the innocent and those whom would seek to harm the planet.

Chivalrous as the knights of old, Mikha’il bears himself with a sense of purpose, a will to serve those who cannot aid themselves in the face of adversity. Whether extending a healing touch, or wielding a celestial sword, Mikha’il appears to remain within a sense of harmonic bliss, something which easily washes over those around him.

Uniform/costume:
Sealed within a ring Mikha’il bears on his finger, is a set of full angelic plate along with his sword which can all be summoned at will, as long as he has his ring. Made by a smith of the celestial realm, Mikha’il’s ring is indeed one of a kind, and acts as a storage more so than anything else.

Mikha’il's armor consists of divine plate mail shimmering in the light, its white color reflecting the shine cast upon it. Complimenting his grace, the armor appears thin and lithe, licking his slender frame from plate boots to chest plate. As is common within the angelic descent, Mikha’il's armor is beautifully ornate with golden engravings stretching across its entirety.

Wrath

An angelic blade infused with divine energy, a weapon which can damage and kill the servants of darkness, such as the undead and demons.

Appearance:
Flawless, angelic, divine and beautiful, it is what one should expect from an inhabitant of Heaven, the Abrahamic celestial realm. A slender frame rivaled only by legends and myth of beauties beyond this world, Mikha’il walks with a sense of passion known among his race, for those who have knowledge of the angelic. Weightless steps bring him forth, fair skin and violet eyes peering back at whomever would regard his shape. Mikha’il would bring the assumptions mortals claim towards his angelic brethren to fruition, indeed. Rather than bulky muscles, a lithe body yields the same results due to his celestial blood.

Dressed in simple attire to blend in with the rest, Mikha’il does not sport any impressive clothes or a measure of wealth. Of course, bound by the celestial laws of Heaven’s strict pace, Mikha’il is not allowed an abundance of material possessions as a guardian of mortals. Rather, his focus should remain on those in need.

The most striking feature Mikha’il possesses apart from those enchantingly violet eyes would be his pure white hair, something which is highly uncommon and unheard of upon those of his apparent age somewhere in south of his twenties.

Much like the painting, Mikha’il does not possess an abundance of mortal requirements such as facial or body hair, neither does he appear to have any scars. He does however possess a belly button, hinting at angelic pregnancy being a truth.

Mikha’il’s voice is, in a word, melodic. It falls on the ear with ease and caresses the senses of those it touches, another addition of his celestial heritage. With singing being a large part of his civil interests, many would agree that they grow rather enchanted by his music. Falling into the stereotype quite strongly, Mikha’il uses a harp when he creates his music, as well as an accompanied voice to the divine instrument. It is not uncommon for him to sing to those he treats before they pass on to the other side.

Age:
Biblical, appears to be in his early twenties.

Origin Info/Details:
Stepping through the fog with blade in hand, Mikha’il had his feet bring him past the strewn corpses decorating the ancient battlefield. A flag moving in tune with the ever blowing breeze revealed the Anglosaxiskan empire with colors and creed, a multitude of soldiers repainting the once blossoming green grass. Lowering himself to a knee, the angel gently traced an armored hand across the mutilated frame of a young boy forced into war. He was not the only one, not the last, not the first. On both sides, men and boys had been brought into the conflict by a decree they knew nothing of, to fight for a king they had never met.

With a soft breath, the angel's touch emanated a warming light which closed the wounds though did little in returning the boy back to life. It was never the intent, but rather to prevent his passage from looking so very grim. "Would you deny him the truth of his demise?" A voice came, echoing through the air with a celestial clang. Mikha’il did not turn to see who it was that had greeted him, neither did he proceed with haste in offering a response.

"His loved ones will one day come and find him here, accompanied by his many brethren. I wish only to spare them the sight." The angel offered, ascending back to his feet before turning to look at the archangel Gabriel whom had blessed Mikha’il with his presence.

"A Seraph." Gabriel continued, raising an eyebrow. "You were recently promoted to captain due to your skills in combat, yet you denied the position. Why?"

"I am no leader, Gabriel." Since an age of biblical proportions, Mikha’il had displayed a nearly unmatched level of swordsmanship, though he would not fool himself. The angel had been a soldier within the celestial army since his creation, as was the purpose of his existence, but a leader of units he was not.

"Micheal would not make a mistake, Mikha’il." Gabriel reminded his younger sibling, placing a hand along Mikha’il's shoulder.

"Then he is more confidant in my abilities than I am, old friend." Ever since Mikha’il was a mere recruit in the celestial army, and before then as well, the man was humble to a fault. He never overstepped, he never spoke out. One should not however mistake the divines for a place of absolute purity, however. The divine military was lead by an iron fist.

"You have been assigned the assault of Pandemonium, why do you remain?" Gabriel continued, motioning towards his surroundings. Heaven and Hell, like the stories and myths had forever spoken, were at war. It was impossible to tell just how long it had been escalating but as a Seraph, it was Mikha’il's duty to be on the front lines in one of the elite squadrons. Time and time again the man had been offered a position of commander, but each time he refused. Was it truly a humble posture or was he not confident enough to have others under his care? In either event, even as a boy Mikha’il displayed a will to protect those around him as a comrade rather than a leader.

"Yes. The war continues, the infinite conflict." Mikha’il sighed, turning his gaze towards the heavens before a set of large celestial wings appeared on his back with a windy gust accompanying their conjuring. "Let is be off, Gabriel. I pray that one day, battle is not our only purpose."

"Prayers are for mortals, Mikha’il. We do not possess that luxury." Gabriel finished, straightening himself out before with an angel's flight, ascended into the air.

Hero Type:
Angel.

Power Level:
Worldly.

Availability:
- Mikha’il is able to heal even the most gruesome of wounds given enough time and energy. Including severed limbs.
- Mikha’il has the ability to heal himself and others.
- Mikha’il powers are not limited to wounds. He can also heal illnesses and other similar ailments, including effects caused by other mutations.
- Mikha’il can heal people a short distance from himself without needing to touch them.

Passive:
- All of Mikha’il powers are automatic on his own body. However, the more damage he sustains, meaning the more he will heal, the less energy he will have to heal others.

Limitations:
- Mikha’il does not have an unlimited supply of energy. The more gruesome the ailment he needs to heal, the more energy it will require. Without rest, overusing his powers will cause Mikha’il to faint.
- Mikha’il cannot bring people back from the dead with this power. Once a person is brain dead, they are beyond the ability of healing.
- Mikha’il needs to concentrate to heal others, meaning in a heated situation he'll have great difficulties.
- Removing curses and the like requires Mikha’il’s powers to be on the same level or higher to manage.
- Overusing his powers will cause fainting.
- Since Mikha’il’s powers are automatic within his own frame, he cannot shut off his own regeneration. The more damage he sustains, the less energy he will have and in turn, he won’t be able to heal others.


Availability:
Being an angel, Mikha’il can travel to the various forms of an afterlife spread across the multiverse and retrieve souls claimed from the mortal realm. This journey does however take time, and the inhabitants of such planes do not always take kindly to angelic intrusion.

Using this ability, Mikha’il has to physically transport himself. Teleporting to the otherworldly realms is not a difficult feat in itself, but once there, he will have to locate the lost soul and more than probably fight his way towards it.

Limitations:
This power transports Mikha’il to another location entirely, and from there, he will have to traverse the realms of death which is more often than not a perilous journey. He can be killed himself within the afterlife, and it can take anywhere from an hour to an eternity to bring back who is looking for.


Availability:
With this ability, Mikha’il is capable of summoning a set of ethereal, white feathery wings which allows for flight. Being ethereal, the wings phase through clothes and armor.

Attributes:

Height:
5’7”.

Weight:
100Ibs.

Strength Level:
Angelic, (Peak Human).

Speed/Reaction Timing Level:
Angelic, (Peak Human).

Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort:
Angelic, (Peak Human).

Agility:
Angelic, (Peak Human).

Intelligence:
Average.

Fighting Skill:
Melee Weapons:
Mastered.

Ranged Weapons:
Novice.

Resources:
Average.

Theme Songs:
Combat:
"Prepare thine self."

Everyday:
"Divinity upon thee."

Moved.

-

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

The Museum

"I hear you, Ben..."

Stopping dead in his tracks, the boy felt as if paralyzed, his feet unable to move with eyes wide from the sudden voice echoing through his mind. "Ben..." The boy's thoughts returned, his teeth clenched before his body released the tension which had been building up inside. For a moment, the chaos seemed to pass him by unnoticed, as if he had been dragged out of the abyss by the voice of a loved one. Yes, a loved one, indeed. "Ben, I'm sorry...I..." Shifting his demonic eyes from The Barron and towards Benjamin, Skyler found himself as if enchanted by the wolf's ocean blue gaze. For the first time, the two locked eyes, gazing into each other's souls as the beasts they were. School days had come and gone, but their connection never came to be. Skyler's ceaseless hunger for the wolf's attention, his affection, his love, it was only now being met with a response, now in the deepest pits of depravity.

Once more trembling from fear and anxiety, Skyler's ravaging advance as the demon he was reached an abrupt halt. "H-hurt...yes..." The Efreet's thoughts continued, boiling tears forcing their way out of his eyes before dripping onto the ice covered floor, causing the frozen water to evaporate in steam. "Ben...it...it hurts so much..." Unable to shield himself from the influx of images pouring into his mind, Skyler's momentary calmness came to an explosive end. Abuse, neglect, hatred, sorrow, misery, devastation...death. The images came flooding and it all ended with Skyler's sister set ablaze beneath the same flames now tearing through the walls.

Taking a step back, the boy shook his head in disbelief, his eyes never leaving Benjamin's heavenly visage. "I'm sorry, Ben. I'm sorry..." Finally regaining enough control to spin around and dash out of the room. Though the flames ravaged on, they were starting to die out due to Skyler's unstable state of mind.

It didn't take long until he fell down to his knees on the grass outside, his claws holding onto his head as the boy screamed out in a demonic cry. A scream of anguish and pain washed over him, the hellish flames which had been encircling him sporadically spinning around the boy. He was unable to prevent the tears from making their way down his cheeks, the wave of emotions too much to bare. Joining the screaming with anguished cries, Skyler was feeling the loss of control seeping into his infernal rage, though wasn't able to retract their advance. His powers were simply too powerful for him to manage effectively and started to grow in size around him.

Like a bonfire, the Efreet was engulfed in his black fire, the flames creating an infernal orb which encased him inside. At this point, it was quite clear that this orb was imploding, getting smaller before it would eventually explode and more than likely consume the entirety of the museum along with the blast. Sixteen years of pent up flames were forcing their way out of their owner all at the same time, and the devastated creature within their embrace was all but helpless to halt their approach.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

The Museum

A vampire!? A Witch!? Oh, and two werewolves!? This was starting to get way out of hand, as if that wasn't apparent with the highly unwelcome addition of The Barron. Blood, ice, anger, fangs, claws, sweat, trembling, the list went on. Skyler could barely contain himself, a sense of dread filling him to the brink. He was shaking, visibly so, as if shivers running down his spine. With strength leaving his legs at a rapid pace, the boy fell to his knees, his teeth clenched with fingers nearly digging into his arms as his they embraced the frail body he called his own. "No..." Though unable to feel the icy chill, unable to feel the magical shroud of heat emanating from the Witch, Skyler could clearly fill in the gaps. A battle was about to take place between en Elder Vampire and a Witch. Adding an Efreet to the mix wasn't going to help the situation, neither was adding two werewolves and poor Mushroom found himself in the middle of it.

Closing his eyes, Skyler attempted his focus solely at containing the raging inferno which at this point was trying to force its way out of him. Fire, it was an emotional power, an emotional source of devastation. Without a heart at ease, the boy's flames taken from the deepest pits of hell itself would free themselves and engulf the crystalline cage the group had found themselves in. "Y-you're all..." The boy finally spoke, swallowing his fears for the brief second of a moment. "You're all insane..." He stammered, struggling back to his converse clad feet before stumbling towards the wall with Mushroom moving closer to him out of desperation. An unwise decision, given the rippling air which had started to surround him, as if a scorching desert wind. "Get the hell away from me, all of you..." Turning a shade darker, and growing as he spoke, the boy's horns were responding to his emotional distress. His skin was growing slightly paler, and his eyes were starting to invert colors. The now clearly visible tail was rippling with traces of hell fire, his body trembling from fear, confusion and anxiety.

This was too much. It was going too far. Trapping an unstable demon in a box with other supernaturally powered beings wasn't the wisest of decisions and this vampire appeared old but wisdom had surely not arrived with age. Tensing his frame, Skyler found his breath leaving him, not out of exhaustion but in an attempt not to lose control. Once more falling to a knee, the boy attempted to maintain his inferno, his embrace tightening around his frame. It would however appear to be a losing battle, his powers far too unstable, and far too powerful for him to contain.

Slapping his hand against the wall, Skyler could no longer deny the feeling of absolute ecstasy accompanying the release of his dormant powers. He couldn't contain them, but neither could he unleash them like he so desperately wanted. Shifting his focus to the wall behind him, a roaring wave of flames licked its shape and tore into it like a ravaging beast locked behind bars. Causing the wall to boil, Skyler's hand was engulfed in the fire though untouched by its infernal rage. Anyone without the fires of hell coursing through their veins would surely feel the immense heat compacted into the crystalline cage. "I've had enough..." Skyler spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes moving up to the vampire before him, as if his demonic self had completely taken over with courage and rage. "I'm done being caged...no one...no one will keep me under their thumb anymore..."

Letting go of the wall, Skyler's flames continued to freely burn the shape without his contact, his demonic eyes now fixed on the vampire. "I don't know what I am...I don't know what fucking horror story spit me out...but I'm done being pushed around." Shifting in color, the boy's flames were starting to take on an unnatural color of the darkest night, turning a jet black which started to eat into the wall and surrounded him as if a spiraling shield. "Honestly...I don't even fucking care anymore! If you're truly a vampire, you don't like the sun much, right? I am the fucking sun...!" Finally breaking through the crystalline wall, Skyler's jet black flames continued to spread along the remaining walls.

Broken, shattered and mentally fragile, Skyler finally reached his breaking point. One could only poke the bear so much before it decided to bite back. With black claws now covering his fingers, the boy's skin turned a chalk white, his horns fully grown to reveal his clear, demonic nature and his shirt started to peel away from the heat emanating from his skin. "Touch Ben you asshole, and there won't even be ashes left of you..." Echoing through the air, Skyler's voice had taken on a clear demonic tone. It was evident that he had been through enough.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

The Museum

Feeling his heart drop at the sight, Skyler found a God given courage needed to retain his calm. It was Benjamin, wasn't it? This was the same wolf from before, the same wolf Skyler had been informed of, the same person he was supposed to meet. Nothing went according to plan, nothing following the beaten path laid out before them. Gulping his fears down with the weight of a drowning stone, Skyler took a calculated step backwards, his hand resting firmly on Mushroom's frame to prevent panic from the shivering canine. Knowing his limitations, Mushroom was no blood hound or a guard dog. He was a mere pup, someone who'd rather run than fight. As one could probably assess by looking at him, the canine lacked capability.

The same could however not be said about Skyler, not by a long shot. Tensing at the werewolf's transformation, Skyler's eyes fell to the murder scene stretching out before him. Blood and fluids laid splattered across the floor and though none of it came from an innocent bystander or an unlucky victim. It was all Benjamin, every cell of it. Had the poor boy gone through this same event back at his home when he transformed the first time? Was this going to be a repeated process every time he proceeded to transform?

Managing to steal a glance at the woman besides him, Skyler's eyes found home on the actions Ben continued to make. Yet again, he acted like a playful pup. Though his initial movement nearly brought the poor woman enough anxiety to break through, he reached her south of a second before lapping that wet tongue across his skin. The sight was enough to calm Skyler's nerves somewhat. He was still innocent, still harmless. Well, harmless could possibly have been the wrong choice of word. If scared, he could very well turn those fangs and claws into deadly weapons.

Lowering himself to a knee, Skyler's ground around Mushroom loosened as he placed an arm around the pup, whispering calming words into the canine's drooped ears. "It's alright, Mushroom." He spoke ever so softly, halfway hugging his companion before returning to gaze upon the yet harmless beast. "I know him." Skyler continued, uttering the sentence to Marie whom appeared in control of the situation. Perhaps though, she merely wished to be, but reality might have looked otherwise. In truth, Skyler was more afraid of himself than he was of Ben. Animals far from scared the boy, and given recent changes, he had grown quite resilient to exterior fear. However, internal anguish had been accelerated with a notable pace. Would the worst come to pass, Skyler loathed to think of the outcome not because of Ben, but because fire could very well consume all.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

The Museum

"Bark, bark, bark!" With a determined stance, Mushroom's ears perked at the scent which reached his nose, a scent accompanied by a painful groan otherwise muzzled for those without canine senses. Only moments after his reaction, the pup whined pitifully and hid behind Skyler's legs, his large brown eyes looking in the direction of what could only be a threat.

"Mushroom?" Skyler's voice soothed the canine, his hand gently caressing Mushroom's back, his fingers running through the dog's fur. Safe was it to say that Skyler was unable to tell what had changed in the atmosphere surrounding them, though Mushroom's change in demeanor pointed towards an outcome which had otherwise passed over Skyler's head. Given how the dog clung to his owner for dear life, it was reasonable to assume Skyler's innocence in the matter. He had not scared Mushroom with an outburst of his powers, but something else was occurring within the museum's confines. Lowering himself to a knee, Skyler wrapped his arms around his dear companion in a loving embrace, scratching Mushroom behind the ears. "It's alright." The boy spoke softly, planting a gentle kiss on Mushroom's forehead. Ascending to his feet, Skyler took a few steps forward and looked behind him to see Mushroom remaining by his side. It was much better than the alternative, though the constant whimpering showed how scared the canine really was, his tail hanging low and his ears flattening in fear. A sense of comfort by his pack's side, that pack being Skyler, Mushroom stayed rather than bolting from place.

With a hand constantly placed on Mushroom's back, Skyler slowly progressed through the museum, ignoring the many stares coming his way. Part of him wanted to escape with Mushroom, but this turn of events could very well be Ben. Nothing had gone per plan so far, and waiting around did not yield any results. Recalling the instructions he had been given, Skyler could no longer stand around. Ben hadn't turned up, and if he did, they had missed each other. Skyler was not in the possession of a cellphone either, neither did he have anyone's number. Táph was nowhere to be seen, as an addition to the already complicated situation. Right now, only Skyler and Mushroom were together. Everyone else was scattered about, their location unknown.

As the boy and his trusty companion delved deeper into the museum, Skyler could note Mushroom's accelerated whimpering and added fear which had been put on the poor pup's shoulders. Now visibly trembling, Skyler and Mushroom had found themselves just past the Witch exhibit. One of the glass cases was empty, something it didn’t share with any other display in the room. Perhaps it was mere superstition, but given the situation at hand, nothing could be dismissed.

Apart from an Asian woman appearing in the distance, Skyler could not lay eyes on anyone else. The group had moved on to other exhibits. Mushroom's whimpering could be due to the magical forces in this room, as it was said that animals could sense such things. That could however be nothing but a myth. Either way, Skyler was more than prepared to believe in the supernatural. A look in the mirror was enough to clarify that.

Tracing his eyes across the room, nothing appeared to bother Mushroom more than what the poor dog had his eyes on, a door further away in the distance. That Asian woman was heading to that very point of interest as Skyler stood static, watching her while keeping an eye on Mushroom's development. He couldn't go further than this or Mushroom could bolt away at any moment. The canine was scared out of his mind, and now physically clinging to Skyler's legs, standing behind them. "Is something in there?" Skyler whispered quietly, furrowing his brows at the scene. Hopefully, no monster would pop out from that closed off room, but if it did, it was unlikely that any of the visitors would be able to fend it off. That woman could have a trick or two up her sleeves, but it was hard to tell. So far, Skyler could only assume his own capabilities. Despite not being able to control his powers, he'd have to do something if push came to shove.

"Mushroom." Skyler spoke, more assertively this time. Turning around, he kneeled and carefully placed his hands on the dog's cheeks. "Everything will be alright." Though the canine couldn't understand the words being uttered, animals could tell by the tone of a voice. Skyler's calm words did manage to calm the situation somewhat, but in truth, he had a hard time understanding why he was drawn to danger like this. For a while now, Skyler had acted against character and the only answer he had was preposterous. He assumed that if he wasn't human, perhaps these actions were caused by a natural desire which came with whatever species he was. While averagely intelligent, Skyler was quick on picking up hints. The rapid changes which had struck were not only physical. He found himself displaying more courage lately, and his otherwise careful demeanor had taken a backseat more often than he'd care to share. The boy found himself more aloof than ever before, and the change arrived with a tail and horns. Though the additions completely contradicted his personality, he found himself powerless to resist.

With a deep breath, Skyler took another step, approaching the distant door.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

New York, Goldhill Bank.

10 pm

"New name, new blade."

Like the gentle breeze of a summer wind, Shadow moved between the rooftops with weightless steps. Leaping onto a larger building, the swordsman climbed its length with haste, the fluidity of his movements barely human in their graceful execution. Feeling the night air brushing past his clothes with the accelerated speed, Shadow vaulted over the edge once he reached the rooftop, landing on his feet with catlike reflexes before he continued on. Many light breaths left his lips, muzzled by the mask covering his face, the obscuring shroud providing a link back to Tatsumei's voice. Hearing her instructions was an addition Shadow had grown used to throughout the months, as if a constant reminder of her presence. Accelerating an otherwise improved capability, Shadow's mask provided a highly technological selection which allowed for night vision, as well as providing a small digital map for traversal. Acquiring such an impressive gadget was explained as old acquaintances. Tatsumei was not alone in her endeavor to protect New York from its many threats. She was however the only remainder of a group once called The Trinity which was composed of her and two close friends, one of whom sat on impressive wealth.

As every story has its end, The Trinity found itself outmatched at one point. Tatsumei managed to correct the mistake at a later opportunity, but the damage had been done. She was the sole survivor, and the loss turned her towards a darker path, one similar to Milo's path of bloodshed. Finding her way back was a feat, but she managed the task and eventually ran into knowledge of he who would now be known as Shadow. It is said that everything is linked together, and thus the two intertwined paths into a singular objective.

Lowering himself to a knee, Shadow tapped the side of his mask and zoomed in on the sight displayed before him. Far below the building which acted as an eagle-eyed view, Shadow saw the target of his assignment. The Goldhill Bank stood tall and proud, though infested with robbers eager to bathe in the riches within. Shadow had to give credit where it was due. At the very least, these thieves had not targeted the bank during daylight. Such an action would have brought with it a new slew of issues and complications. No less for them.

Further tapping the side of his mask, Shadow's view shifted into what Tatsumei described as the Analytical Mode which clearly revealed how many threats resided within the building, and where they were. Armed with assault rifles, AK-47s to be exact, they would cause quite a hassle if Shadow engaged them blade to barrel. Indeed, their bullets would not put him down with ease, but a myriad of lead from all sides would acquaint him with the floor sooner rather than later.

Placing his foot on the edge of the rooftop, Shadow executed a leap of fate which would have shocked any onlooker, would he not have extended his left hand and fired a long, thin wire attaching itself to the bank's surface. Thought barely visible, Shadow's left bracer contained a very handy transportation device. It was hard to believe that he made ends meet without these trinkets.

Reaching the bank, Shadow flipped onto the roof with the wire quickly retracting to his bracer once it loosened from place. "In position." The boy's silent voice cracked through the night sky, vanishing with the incoming breeze.

"There's an entrance to your left." Tatsumei's response reached Shadow's ears, her illumination barely necessary as the door stood apparent for anyone who'd look. The thieves had used this way to get in, the stairs leading down into the back part of the bank. Police were already on their way due to the alarm, but Shadow had made it his objective to arrive before them. If he could deal with this issue first, no one would come to harm.

Making his way down the stairs, Shadow reactivated the Analytical Mode of his mask, the visor revealing his enemies through the walls. There were seven of them, five working on filling their bags while two remained stationary, ever vigilant lookouts. Silently moving along the walls, Shadow positioned himself around the corner. With two shuriken between his fingers, Shadow revealed himself a mere moment before expertly throwing the stars at the lookouts. Knocked out cold from the electrical impact, the path was opened for Shadow's entrance. Arming himself with another three throwing stars, one between each finger, Shadow hastily proceeded into the vault and dashed forth. Throwing the shuriken in a wide arc, they connected with the lightly armored targets focused on their task. Fluidly moving his hand towards the blade on his back, Shadow slid forward and spun around with a swing of his sword, the edge sending a powerful shock through the bandit before the remaining enemy met the same treatment at the end of Shadow’s circular slash.

The sound of sirens was now clearly audible outside the building, queuing Shadow’s exit. Hurrying up the stairs, Shadow threw himself off the roof and fired the wire from his left bracer to leave the area. It had been a clean job, one reliant on stealth. All the police had to do now was to apprehend the thieves who were all peacefully sleeping.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Undisclosed Hideout

Two months after Bounty's Rest

"There's a way, for everyone."

Updates

Name:
Milo.
Shadow.

Alignment:
Walking the line.
Hero.

Day Job:
Tea Shop clerk.

Night Job:
Hero.

Color:
ec008c
#6B6969

Weapons

Main Weapons:
High Frequency Electro Blade.
Offhand Weapon:
High Frequency Electro Knife.
Ranged Weapon:
High Frequency Electro Shuriken.

Feeling his vision returning, Milo traced the pads of his fingers across the foundation of a soft, wooden floor beneath his frame. The light was still quite challenging to meet with tired eyes, his attention shifting back and forth from the thick, wooden bars keeping him within the cage he had so profoundly found himself in. The confines were an unexpected addition, but he would recall losing consciousness quite abruptly due to a well-planned ambush. Thinking back on the matter yielded little success however, as he could not see nor sense the attackers beforehand. A pain had echoed through the back of his head, followed by an immediate darkness blanketing sight and sound, forcing him to yield beneath the weight of force. Truly, what had struck him was strong enough to surpass his cellular regeneration and knocked him out, leaving the boy defenseless. It was no wonder then, that he found himself in a wooden cell not long after.

Peculiar as it was, Milo had only to peer beyond the bars to disregard what they had been made of. As if an image frozen in time, framed from an old movie dating back to the samurai, Milo's eyes recognized his surroundings as a quaint home of oriental birth. The warm, bright colors were enough to ease an otherwise troubled mind, but Milo would soon return to reality, his focus shifting to the bars steadily barring his path. Without an utterance leaving his lips, the boy sat up and leaned against the wall opposite the bars, breathing out as he found himself disarmed and without a chance for escape. Lucky then that he didn't have to wait long before the sound of footsteps snapped him back from getting too comfortable. "Good morning, sleeping kitten." A voice echoed through the otherwise empty home, the words belonging to an elderly woman who found great pleasure in the pipe between her lips. "For someone who can't die, you're sure easy to smack down." She continued, exhaling a puff of smoke with a not so unexpected smirk making its way to her visage.

"Who are you?" Milo returned, his eyes narrowing at the sight. A frail old lady stood before him, her height equal to that of his own. Indeed, this woman had not warranted any amount of intimidation, her appearance anything but menacing.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?" She shot back, taking another long puff of the pipe, breathing out the smoke before her oriental eyes found home on the prisoner. "You never were one for talking, after all."

"Do I know you?" For someone he had never seen before, this woman sure knew a thing or two about Milo. The way she bore herself, her demeanor and her patient act drew the situation quite intriguing. She knew more than she let on, and she enjoyed taking her time with spilling the beans, as it was.

"You do not." The woman continued in response. "I know you, though." She delighted herself on the pipe, breathing out smoke between sentences as she spoke. "I know that you're a weapon manufactured in 1984 by a Bionic Weapons Lab. Subject Name: M110, Male 110, as it was." She moved the pipe away for a second, gazing down to the shocked expression on Milo's face, her own grin widening as a result. "You were designed to be an assassin able to hide in plain sight and use innocence as concealment." The boy's silence clearly indicated his interest in what this woman had to say, encouraging her to continue. "You were made to look like your creator's son. Someone had issues." She chuckled softly, bringing the pipe back to her lips. "Things went south, the project was shut down, lab was destroyed, you went out on your own and started killing bad boys, am I right so far?" Milo offered her a faint frown in response, causing the elderly woman to chuckle once more before she continued on. "See, I have been looking into you for quite some time, Edge." Sounding out his alias, the woman could clearly see how Milo's frown deepened. "You have been a very, very bad kid, Milo." She finally dropped his name.

"What's it to you?" The boy returned, crossing his arms as he remained in place against the wall.

"Killing people left and right, it's not a path which will leave you whole for very long. My name is Matsumei, and I am going to offer you an ultimatum."

"I don't do well with those."

"Well..." Matsumei began, approaching the bars. "See, I've been where you are, Milo. You think that chopping people into hamburgers will end well. You think that it's making a difference, a good one. You're leaving an endless wake of blood behind you, and deem yourself justified in doing so. Why is that?"

"You seem to know everything about me. You tell me." Milo sighed, shaking his head slightly. He never expected to get into a philosophical debate with an old lady.

"The answer is quite simple. You've been hardwired to consider killing a first resort. You were born and bred in a test tube, kid. Killing was what you were made for. That's why I am offering you another chance, a new life." For the first time yet, Matsumei cracked what appeared to be a smile, though it was quickly smothered as the pipe returned to her lips.

"Why would I join you?" Milo considered his situation, but it was still a question he would like answered. With bars in the way, he didn't have anywhere to go.

"You were created as a weapon. Naturally, a weapon kills. You on the other hand, are a weapon with a mind. You can be taught anew, and you can be redeemed." Matsumei turned to lean against the wall as she spoke, breathing out smoke as she had displayed previously. "I'll show you a new path. The alternative is a maximum-security prison. Probably isolation, or the death penalty since you're technically not human so human rights is a bit of a grey zone with you."

"Nice options." The boy shot back, raising an eyebrow at the options put before him. "Join you, or die, pretty much."

"No." Matsumei shook her head. "Join me, or the legal system will deal with you. Either way, I can't have you out there and killing, anymore. See, any other person would probably have been left for the cops to deal with but I have been looking into you ever since Lost Haven, Milo." She elaborated. "In truth, there are a few reasons as to why you're in this position. Firstly, your creation didn't exactly leave you with many other options. Secondly, your skillset makes you a very plausible student."

"Fine." Milo finished, ascending to his feet and approached the bars.

"Oh, that easy to convince you?"

"The alternative's a deterrent."

"As it should be." Matsumei chuckled. "Well then, go on and leave that cell."

Raising his eyebrow in confusion, Milo placed his hand on the cell door and pushed it open. It had never been locked.

Four months after Bounty's Rest

Expertly blocking each strike thrown at her, Matsumei remained with a pipe in hand and her other maintaining a stretched out, defensive posture. Though Milo attempted his best to land a successful hit, the old woman danced between his inhumanly graceful movements as if she had a sixth sense, as if she could tell exactly what he was about to do before the boy brought thought into action. With her heartbeat maintaining a calm beat, the woman smoked her beloved pipe as her right hand countered and nullified Milo's strikes with rapidity and ease. After a short while, Matsumei moved forth with a powerful strike to Milo's chest, her palm sending him to his back as if a paper weight. "Again." The woman exclaimed, only having moved an inch throughout the ordeal before her imminent attack.

Milo clenched his teeth before jolting back to his feet and attempted to start the dance anew, his quick strikes which would have been far too fast for most easily dodged and blocked by Matsumei with a single arm. Yet again, and again still, and a fourth time, a fifth and on it went, Milo found himself thrown to the carpeted floor. Matsumei was a master of martial arts, her abilities far surpassing Milo who himself had been specifically designed for this. It was safe to say that her skills faded the mortal realm in their wake.

"Get up." The old lady commanded, tossing a bokken, a wooden blade, to Milo. "Let's try again." Despite the boy's new weapon, he had little luck in landing a strike on the woman moving as if she was wind itself, her middle and index finger extended with each strike to cancel her target's pressure points with fluidity. Each strike stole a large portion of energy from Milo as well dealing a respectable amount of internal damage which healed in turn, stealing even more energy in the process.

These sessions continued for a long, arduous amount of time. Milo found himself acquainted with the floor more than he'd care to share, his body only able to keep standing due to his mutation which Matsumei could end at any given moment with her godly martial prowess. Milo would however lie, if he claimed that Matsumei's gruesome training did not yield results.

Nine months after Bounty's Rest, Present Day.

Shadow, it was the name Matsumei had claimed long ago when she was still jumping on rooftops and keeping New York's streets safe. It was a name she could no longer hold onto, her age preventing her from prolonged endeavors in the crusade against villainy. Indeed, her overwhelming prowess stood far and beyond even Milo who had now grown exponentially thanks to her, but the woman had grown more static with age. Milo, with the option he had sealed many months ago, agreed to take her place on the streets. Calling Matsumei Sensei, the boy would hear her words constantly echo through his mind, not in a spiritual manner but rather through the mask he wore.

Though Matsumei's home was of a delicate, old oriental style, the woman had displayed yet another amazing skill in computers. Located within the Asian house hidden from sight beneath a tea shop, Matsumei possessed an impressive array of technological gadgets and screens allowing for full time surveillance of her progeny while he roamed the streets. Picking up Matsumei's old codename and her attire, Milo would continue the woman's legacy.

Armed with a High Frequency Electro Blade along with a matching knife, Milo, or Shadow, now deployyed a non-lethal variant to an otherwise powerful sword. Mimicking the slashing motions of an actual blade, the blunted edge of his high frequency sword left electrical shocks on his enemies, stunning and paralyzing them rather than critically wounding and killing a target. Following up on the promise he had made not to kill, Shadow also uses shuriken, or throwing stars, deploying the same kind of technology.

"You've got a mission!" Mitsumei exclaimed, lightly hitting Shadow in the back of his head as the boy was more than content with a cat on his lap and his eyes glued to the television.

"Fine..." He sighed softly, scratching Soy, the cat, behind her ears. He lowered his feet to the floor with a stretch, starting towards the armory and wasted little time before suiting up for the mission at hand. A common everyday robbery, something to get the blood going for the remainder of the night. With quick and graceful movements living up to his new name of Shadow, the boy hurried out of the hideout and tea shop, making his way into the night of New York.