smarty0114

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{Location: Under The Tree -> The Outskirts of Seattle}

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When he awoke, he was alone, as he had been all those centuries ago. His ears rang as silence broke for the first time in two thousand years. The sudden sight he’d been gifted was overwhelming, and he shoved the palms of his hands against his face to block out the dim light of whatever cavern he’d awoken in. He leaned forward, fell, and stumbled to his feet, still blind. He could feel fresh air blowing against his skin, could hear the patter of raindrops, could taste the scent of pine and moisture on his tongue.

Warily, he made his way towards the breeze, eyes screwed shut and hands out in front of him. He tripped up a flight of stone stairs, but he did not slow his ascent. His skin prickled as the cold air of this strange land whispered against his bare skin, and he shivered as the first drops of rain fell against him. For a moment, he basked in the cold, letting the water run over him. Despite the chill, he could not help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. It reminded him of Helheim.

Finally, he dared to open his eyes to the world around him. He squinted as the cloudy light of the forest shone down upon him, looking around for any sign of where he’d been. He could see that he’d emerged from a tree, though that was hardly the strangest of occurrences in his life. More curious to him was the vast stretch of emptiness that went on for leagues, completely unmarred by buildings. Was this where he had fallen? How long had he been asleep?

Questions began to swim through his head, drowning him in uncertainty. Voices swam through his mind, but were they memories, or whispers of the draugr that haunted this place? Was he dead, or reborn? The confusion shocked his still foggy mind, and he let out an anguished scream, falling to his knees in the grass, and letting his fear and confusion tear through him. He was lost, and he was alone, and he had nowhere to turn. His scream died out and his panting breaths filled the silence. He clenched his fists, willing himself to stand up, and go, anywhere. He just needed to move. And so he did.

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He walked for hours, naked and alone, stoic as he strode across this foreign field. Rocks and thorns littered the ground, but they did not mark his feet with blood, and so he took no notice. His eyes were trained ahead of him, at the small cottages rising over the hill. They were brighter than those he’d known, sturdier it seemed. There were so many, so close together, a small village just past the fence, standing in an orderly line.

The dirt beneath his feet faded to stone, smooth and grey. Wooden fences lined the back of each homestead, blocking the world behind their borders from his view. He watched the neighborhood from his vantage point in the woods, debating his options. The lights burning in each window told him there was plenty of help to be had here, assuming the townspeople were friendly. Perhaps they worshipped his father? Though he was not sure anyone who saw him now would believe him to be a son of Odin. His face was streaked with sweat, his feet caked in dirt. His blonde hair, once so brilliant, was dry straw brushing against his neck. Still, he would not make it far on his own.

He strolled forward with the purpose of a soldier, knocking on the door of the first house he passed. His knuckles rapped against the wood with a satisfying thud. He had been asleep for quite some time it seemed. The mortals had gotten much better doors.

“He-What the fuck?” the door swung open to reveal a startled, older woman, dressed in a nightgown despite the sun’s rays still peering over the horizon. The words she spoke were unfamiliar to him, a garbled mess of sounds that fell upon deaf ears.

“Minn nafn er Baldr Odinson, ok ek þorfuþinnr fylgjagð,” he said, earning him a look of fear from the woman before him. The door slammed in his face, and he heard the woman’s voice call out. Perhaps she was fetching the servants to prepare his room? The mortals had certainly grown stranger.

Suddenly the door swung open and something was being pointed in his face. It was not a sword. He knew swords. This was different, something new. He blinked in surprise, but remained still, unsure of what exactly he was facing.

“Listen buddy. You’ve got five seconds to step off my porch and get the fuck outta Dodge, okay?”

Baldr blinked again.

“Are you stupid? Get the fuck outta here!”

Baldr remained where he was, an immovable stone. In a flash, the man’s hand whipped out, smacking him across the face with whatever strange weapon he held in his hand. His face turned to the side, due more to surprise than to any strength this mortal might possess. Shouts filled the air, but he could not hear him over the whispers in his head, the whispers that spurred him on. The whispers told him that he needed to kill this man and his wife, make them pay. And so he did.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{Location: The Olympic Club Bathroom
Interactions: Anteros and Ares
Mentions: Athena
A @smarty0114 and @Legion020 collab}

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---

Zagreus and Macaria lay atop shattered glass, blood leaking from wounds that would not heal, and all that Anteros could think about was his sister. He looked up from the bodies, expecting to meet her gaze, and when their eyes did not lock his stomach sank. Where was she? He pushed through the crowd, gently at first, then rougher. With every moment that passed he felt his desperation grow. She was not in the crowd, but why? She would not have hid, that was not Pothos at all.

He burst forth from the throng of people and began moving towards the other rooms of the first floor. The kitchen was filled with frightened and confused mortals, unprepared for the chaos that had erupted in the ballroom. The lounge was empty, barely touched. The bathroom felt like a last resort.

Until his foot landed upon the golden apple he’d watched Hera hang around his sister’s neck. He knelt down and picked up the pendant, closing his fist around it and closing his eyes. On any other day, at any other party, he might’ve been able to calm the sea of emotions that began to churn inside him, but now? After two bodies had fallen from the ceiling? He feared the worst.

Anteros’ desperation was replaced by purpose, as his strides carried him back into the ballroom. Athena and Hera had tried their best to calm the gathered gods, to mixed results. The man he was looking for was not scared though. Ares did not get scared, Anteros knew that well. His father would solve this, he would have to. Whatever his thoughts might be about his children, Anteros knew how seriously he took his honor. This was more than a move against Pothos, it was a move against Ares and Aphrodite both.

Like the Minotaur raging through the Labyrinth, Anteros intercepted Ares as he moved towards Athena, placing his slender hand firmly against his father’s chest, and letting the pendant hang between them. “This,” Anteros said, “is Pothos’. Grandmother gave it to her earlier. She is missing, and you need to find her.” Anteros had imagined their reunion to be filled with clever jabs on his part, but he did not have the time. His sister was missing, and he would not endanger her to prove something to his father. Even as his hands trembled with rage and the red hot anger inside threatened to spill out, he grit his teeth and pushed through. For Pothos.

Ares looked his son in the eyes. Probably for the first time in decades. His eyes darted towards the pendant that Anteros was holding up, then towards Hera, then back to Anteros himself. The situation became clear in an instant. He looked towards Hades. I’m sorry uncle. He thought to himself. I have my own child to save. It was a harsh thought, but a necessary one. In truth Ares could do nothing for Hades right now but he could save his own daughter. All his focus – which was spread out in the entire room to mark off who was there and thus couldn’t have slain the two Greek deities – narrowed down. All of it fell upon Anteros.

He took the pendant with one hand, then put the other on his son’s shaking hand. It was gently, but it was firmly. “Calm down.” Ares said. His tone was flat and constant. It conveyed no rage. Poor Anteros, in the end he really was his father’s son. “Show me where you found it.”

Anteros nodded, removing his now still hand and silently moving towards the bathroom. When they arrived, Ant propped open the door, and pointed at the spot just near the entrance where he’d found the pendant. “It was just here, on the floor. I don’t- His words fell off as he took in the scene with new eyes, ones not clouded with desperation.

The bathroom had seen a fight, that much was clear. The mirror had been shattered, and a painting on one wall had been knocked askew. He could see drops of blood on the ivory tile, and he turned his gaze on his father, his eyes renewed with fear. “I didn’t even see her come in here. I don’t–I don’t know where she is.” He had never had to truly fear for Pothos. His stomach flipped over itself. He could not fathom his life without his sister.

Ares, meanwhile, took a deep breath. Shock and confusion were the enemy in a situation like this. He unbuttoned his vest as he looked over the scene. His eyes went from the broken mirror to the blood drops on the ground. Ares had been in his own fair share of bathroom fights. There were telltale signs showing him the flow of the battle. Pothos was attacked, probably from behind. For a second the god of war felt a sense of short-lived pride. Most of his children took after their mother so much. Yet Pothos fought.

He crouched down to look at the blood droplets. They were still liquid and fresh. Whatever happened here, it happened recently. He hoped that Athena was as pragmatic as she so often claimed to be. The blood would have to be analyzed.

The scene spoke of a fight but Ares wanted more. He ignored the lamentions of his son behind him. The boy was already losing himself to panic. He wouldn’t be of much more help now. It was an old, mortal trick he used now to observe the scene. When you’re expecting nothing, that which doesn’t belong easily jumps out. Like the glint of a metallic object a bit further away. He reached for it. It was a cufflink shaped like an anvil. There was really only one god who wore those. “What have you been up to, brother?” He put the cufflink and Pothos’ necklace in his pocket.

Then he turned toward Antheros and looked him straight in the eyes. He took the boy by his arms, firmly yet not painfully. “Listen to me boy. You will walk out of here and tell Athena to look at this. She needs to examine the blood. Tell her that I will talk to her this night. Do you understand?”

Anteros nodded, the shock not yet faded from his face. “What are you going to do?” These words at least, came out calmer than they might once have. He’d always been averse to his father’s bloodlust, the ease with which he embraced violence. Now though, he wished he had more of that animalistic nature inside him. If his father was a boar then he was a dove, and doves were not suited for war. Whoever had taken his sister needed to pay though. He wondered for a moment if a dove could survive the coming days. He thought not.

“I’m going to pay my dear brother a visit.” Athena would probably quickly realize where he would be going to. At least, if Anteros would be able to keep himself together for long enough to relay the message. He wasn’t the man for this. Few of his children were. He would need more. After that he prayed someone would catch him.

“Anteros.” He said, holding his boy firmly by the arms still. “Look at me. I will find her, I will find Pothos.” Alive or dead. And if he found her dead, then the world would have another enraged Greek god to handle. “Now go.” He released his son and motioned towards the door. Just to make sure the boy wouldn’t stay frozen in the bathroom.

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

William Blake

▲ Aegis

William Arthur Blake

^{Nickname(s): Will}

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.”

– James Baldwin

╟ January 19th (22) || Caucasian || Male || Atheist, Independent (hard left leaning) || Bisexual || Single ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

____________________________________________________________________

A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || Mr. Blake exceeds expectations in all regards. He showed a clear aptitude for leadership and aced the knowledge portions of the exam. His decision-making trends towards "Unwavering Selflessness."

|| Practical test || In terms of wit and power, Mr. Blake is a force to be reckoned with. He's neglected his strength training (not uncommon with telekinetics) but his agility is on par with the rest of the applicants. While he is no more durable than your average young adult, he showed an incredible amount of resilience. His mental fortitude is quite strong.

|| Written essay topic || Mr. Blake chose to forego the traditional essay questions, in favor of one of his own making. He submitted a twelve page essay detailing his experience as the son of a well-know hero. Mr. Blake's response indicated a profound self-awareness, and a genuine desire to live up to his family's expectations. If he is anything like his mother, he will fit in well at Crystal Peak.

|| Video supplement || William Blake levitates a few feet off the ground, sitting straight up like an invisible chair is keeping him afloat.

"I mean, there's nothing else for me. Not really. Hero work is what I've spent my entire life training for. I could get a job anywhere, but none of that really matters right? I can move shit with my mind, it would be selfish of me to just waste that. That's who I want to be. The selfless hero. I don't need a movie, or action figures, or costumes. I just need one kid to see me helping someone, and to decide that he wants to help other people too."

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak Academy

Y E A R

Senior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Mental

O C C U P A T I O N

Warden at Crystal Peak

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

Campus Castle

I N T E R N S H I P S

Interned over the summer at Give Back, a NYC based non-profit that matches Gifted individuals with local problems. He helped a lot of little old ladies.

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

____________________________________________________________________

Will is... well he's Will. He's that upperclassmen that most freshman want to emulate, he's the example used by half the professors at Crystal Peak, he's kind of got a stick up his ass. Of course, that only makes it more enjoyable when he does finally let loose. That said, he's reliable and consistent, and there are worse things for a hero in training to be.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

____________________________________________________________________

A B I L I T I E S

Telekinesis - Will is a powerful telekinetic. He fucking better be, considering the convergence of bloodlines he has running through him. In his time at Crystal Peak, Will has moved on from the petty little parlor tricks he used to impress his friends in high school. He's grown stronger, able to lift a small car with focus and effort, and his control has far exceeded expectations. His last fight in the previous Tournament of Champions, ended after he pinned his opponent to the wall, using shards of concrete he'd broken off from the arena. No blood was drawn.

L I M I T A T I O N S

Will's ability is wholly based on his ability to concentrate. He's especially weak to Mental abilities, as his level of control steeply drops off when his perception of reality is altered. He is a powerhouse, and while nothing but a prolonged fight will do much about the raw power he is able to wield, a clever enemy can hamstring him with ease.

C O M B A T

Will is a bit of a wild card in a fight, having trained for years in different forms of powered combat. He might come in close, wrapping his fists in telekinetic force to deliver a devastating left hook, or he might stay back, keeping an enemy out of range while he flings them across the battlefield.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

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D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Dirty blonde | Wavy | A shaggy mop atop his head, usually swept up and out of his eyes.
• Eyes: Blue
• Height: 6'2"
• Body Type: Slim, but toned. Will prefers lifting with his mind, but the physical rigor of the Crystal Peak curriculum has demanded he beef up his once string bean frame.
• Clothing Style: Preppy/Polished | 1 2 3 4
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Small scar above his left eye, gold hoop in one nostril.

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Blue and white color scheme. A headsock that leaves his hair free, and a lightly armored bodysuit. Detachable, silver spikes ring his forehead, allowing him to use them as projectiles in a fight.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Will is a natural leader, a problem solver, a hero in the truest sense of the word. He's a stickler for rules and authority, a tightly buttoned up young man. He's naturally clever, and years of studying have made him almost insufferably smart. If he wasn't so nice, he'd be a know it all, but as it stands, he doesn't have a condescending bone in his body. If there is a dark side to Will, it only comes out when someone comes for his family. Plenty of people see him, and think him unassuming. They aren't wrong. Will doesn't exude power like some Gifted might, and he doesn't walk with any ego in his step. However, the people he cares about are not to be fucked with, and that's a lesson most need to learn the hard way.

F E A R S

Disappointing his family

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

____________________________________________________________________

L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

The Blake-Cashmore Line

Melissa Blake - Mother; A retired hero who used to go by the codename, The Shining Spector. She's been retired for years, training Will and consulting with the family company in her free time. A kind, gentle woman, with a fierce heart.

Adrien Blake - Father; Adrien doesn't speak much to Will about his past. He knows that he grew up in New York, that he lived in Boston for a while, but not much else. He works in R&D for Cashmore Global, a job Alexander got for him back before he was born. Will doesn't know why. As far as he can tell, his dad and his uncle can't stand each other.

Athena Cashmore - Cousin; Fellow student at Crystal Peak and childhood confidante. William and Athena bonded through the trauma of growing up a Cashmore (or in his case, Cashmore adjacent), and together at Crystal Peak, they're one hell of a team up.

Damien Cashmore - Uncle; Melissa's older brother, and Athena's dad. Quiet, but certainly the more enjoyable of the two Cashmore brothers.

Alyssa Cashmore - Cousin; TBD

Matthew Cashmore - Cousin; In a lot of ways, Matty is the little brother Will never had. He feels responsible for him in a lot of ways, and he's taken him under his wing since he arrived at Crystal Peak.

Alexander Cashmore - Uncle; Melissa's oldest brother, and the current head of the Cashmore family. Alexander can be charming certainly, but he's also a ruthless shark. Still, he's bankrolled most of his family's lifestyle, so as much as he might dislike his uncle, he won't step out of line over a sour personality.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

____________________________________________________________________

Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

From the moment Melissa Cashmore stepped onto the Crystal Peak campus, it was apparent that she would be a legend. Sure, her last name helped a bit, but Melissa had power, and drive, beyond that of her classmates. It was no surprise that she graduated top of her class, and moved into hero work almost immediately afterwards. She was in high demand, and soon, The Shining Spector was one of the greats.

Melissa enjoyed a longer career than most as a hero, operating for ten years before disappearing from the scene. It's not uncommon for heroes to step out of the spotlight after retirement, but even her family were left in the dark concerning Melissa's whereabouts in the months after her retirement. What Will does know for sure, is that when she finally resurfaced, it was with him and his father in tow.

Will wasn't a late bloomer, by any interpretation of the phrase. From the moment he could walk, he could pull toys across the room, using only willpower and innate gifts. His mother doted on him, and his uncle insisted on preparing him for the only life he could ever live; that of a hero.

The young telekinetic was raised on the Cashmore estate, with a host of tutors to train him and his cousins in the use of their abilities. His schedule was a full one, and normalcy was never a privilege afforded to him, or his cousins. They were Cashmores, like it or not. He might not carry the name, but his parents were always quick to remind him that he carried on a legacy anyways. Like it or not, he had responsibilities.

Many might've caved under the pressure, but for better or worse, Will persisted. Persistence has always been a strength of his. Will took the responsibilities thrust upon him in stride; failure was never an option for him. He would be a hero, or... well, he didn't really know what other options there were.

While Crystal Peak might've been a change of pace for others, it was more of the same for Will. He'd been training all his life, the only difference now was that he could sneak off to party if he wanted to. Spoiler alert: he never really wanted to. Will threw himself into his studies and training, the shadow of his family looming large at all times.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

____________________________________________________________________

Tom Webb, deepskyblue
Hobbies include meditation, studying, and critiquing bad horror movies.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Baldr, god of light and courage

d e i t y o͏ f͏ l i g h t
_{B A L D R 
B A L D R}

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	William Moseley | #b8a857 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Baldr, Best of the Aesir ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ Light and Courage ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Norse ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{i don't know how, but i'm taller}}

████████████

 T H E P R O M I S E
 T H E P R O M I S E

^{Despite the centuries, the promise Freya took from every living thing is still in effect. The Aesir and the Vanir, and the living things of Midgard may not harm Baldr, no matter how they might try. They are bound by ancient magic, magic that even Baldr could not untangle.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{must be something in the water}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Loyal & Brave Honest & Altruistic Wise & Forgiving⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Naive & Gullible Unyielding & Short sighted Impulsive & Hot-headed ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Benedict Roscoe ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ 27 ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ pansexual, male, he/him/his ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ what do they do?

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{everything's growing in our garden, you don't have to know that it's haunted}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Baldr was light and purity and joy, but, despite his many virtues, he is best known for his death. It started with the dreams, heralding his sudden and unexpected demise. Baldr was no coward, and he did not quiver at the thought of his demise, but he was no fool either. He knew that sometimes, dreams carried touches of the future within their winsome walls, and if he could prevent his passage into the realm of Helheim, he would do everything he could. Freya, his mother and Odin's wife, was skilled in the ways of magic, and he called on her help in deciphering his dreams and safeguarding him against future dangers. Clever and cunning, Freya began working on a spell, a vow that would bond every living thing in the nine realms. She journeyed from forests to palaces, from seas to sands, and collected these words from every life she found: "I shall not harm Baldr the Brave, son of Odin and Freya, god of all that is pure and good and just." When she returned from her journey, she promised her son that he was safe. Mistletoe, small and harmless, had never been given a second thought. Baldr's newfound invulnerability did not matter much to him. He was not especially boastful, and he did not enjoy a fight like some of his brothers did. Schemes were always afoot in Asgard though, and soon enough, the father of lies had turned his eyes towards Baldr. Loki had watched Freya collect her oaths, and he knew that mistletoe had been forgotten. He harvested a small sprig, drew the poison from its leaves, and tainted a blade with the foul spoils. At Odin's palace, the gods had gathered for a day of games. Baldr's brothers sought to test the spell Freya had cast, and so they set up a new contest. Whoever could wound fair Baldr the Brave would walk away with a mighty weapon, blessed by the gods. Vidarr threw a spear that fell to the ground, shattered. Vali shot an arrow, that snapped in two. Thor threw the mighty Mjolnir, only to watch it bounce off Baldr's skin, impotent. Finally, Hodr, Baldr's twin brother, stepped up. Though he was blind, his aim was true, and the knife he threw pierced fair Baldr, and left him lying in his own blood. The god of purity and light and joy choked and gasped and clung to his life, and then, he died. When he awoke, he was alone. The air was cold, and the wails of lost souls poured through the open windows of his quarters. He did not know of his father's plea for his return, or Hel's refusal to release him. He only barely recalled the circumstances of his death. Hel would fill him in as the years passed and they shared a strange bond, the prisoner and his warden. He could've raged against the realm that had become his home, but that would've been pointless, shameful. He was bound to Helheim just as Hel was, and he would not leave until Ragnarok came. So he waited, and he waited, and he waited... ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ ...and then he waited some more. His waiting came to an end with a great roar, the biting chill of Helheim faded and suddenly he was falling, falling, falling. He awoke on Midgard, lost and confused, a warrior with no war to fight. Worse than that was the solitude. His return from Helheim was nothing short of a miracle, one that his family had given up on long ago. He could not find his brothers or his father, or even Hel. He was alone, in a world carved by mortals. It was without justice, without goodness, without light. He did not know where the humans had strayed, but he believed it must have been his fault. Perhaps if he had been there to guide them they might've fared better. In his melancholy, Baldr wandered, and watched. The early days of human history did not lift him out of his depression. He would have to make his own way, find his own purpose again. Dedicate himself to justice and order, to rebuilding the world he longed to see. It was not long after discovering this new purpose, that Baldr found himself imprisoned once more, this time, by his own dreams. The sleep came swiftly and suddenly, and with the sleep, came dreams. Dreams of Ragnarok, of Hel, of his many failures. He slumbered and while he lay resting, the world changed. The mortals harnessed new powers, built new things, committed new atrocities. His family rebuilt themselves, unaware that he'd even made it to Midgard, let alone been trapped in sleep. So he slumbered on, no hope of freedom, no knowledge of the outside world. Then, the ground shook, and as it did, Baldr's eyes began to open. The Awakening had begun. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ The restoration of order. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ What is there to fear for a man who has conquered death, isolation, imprisonment? Baldr fears only the failure of mortals, that they might have fallen too far to be saved.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

---

The ballroom had filled with the throbbing roar of conversation, and the clock was ticking ever onwards. Once more, when all the fallen deities had arrived and had their tongues properly whetted with whispers, Hera climbed the ballroom stairs and looked once more upon her subjects. The clinking of metal against glass dulled the room’s conversation, and Hera’s voice rang out over the crowd.

“It seems everyone has arrived. Everyone I expected anyways. Before we have our lunch, I’d like to say a few words,” Hera said, relishing the eyes upon her. Today, at least today, she held the attention of these fickle gods. “We have all had our differences, our squabbles. Both in the heavens, and here on earth. Today though, I ask that we leave our weapons sheathed, so to speak, and enjoy the gifts of the world tree, the gifts my people have tended and bore unto you all.” Hera grinned. She was all too happy to remind the other pantheons of Persephone’s contribution to their immortality.

“Without further ado-” The clangor of shattering glass silenced the Queen of the Gods, followed by two loud thuds, and screams of shock. The attendants had been showered with glass from the skylight above, now broken and open to the sky. Confusion gripped the crowd, as they gathered around an object Hera could not make out.

With all the authority of her station, Hera marched down the stairs, shoving her way through the crowd. In the center of the circle, lying in a pool of dark, mortally red blood, two bodies lay broken, and bent. Through each corpse’s chest, a bloody, ragged hole, gaped, like the bloodshot eye of the Fates looking on into the future. The faces were not unfamiliar to Hera. The smaller body, slender and pale, eyes staring into nothing, was Macaria, the spirit of peaceful death. The other was a face she had never forgotten, not even all these centuries later. Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld, He who had died before the fall, lay broken on the ballroom floor.

Melinoë had once been enjoying her little game of fear and madness, instead now taking it upon herself to just torment the mortals hired for the event. Her sour mood only seemed to deepen when Hera had taken center stage, puffing herself up like some glorified blowfish. Nonetheless she turned her attention to the Queen until the shattering of glass fell atop her and the lifeless forms of her siblings lay there at her feet. Blood pooled around their bodies in a way that reminded her of the Styx, slow and full of life long since past. It was thick and bubbling; fresh. There was a smell, the scent of death, one she never truly forgot, coiling around her feet, trailing upwards like an invisible cloud of smoke. There was this awful sound ricocheting off the marbled flooring and the too thinly decorated walls. Decor, she remembers thinking, that was just as gaudy as the woman hosting. A scream. No, a wailing so torn asunder that it couldn’t possibly be organic in nature. She wanted to turn and snap at the offending party. Why won’t the noise stop? Where is it coming from?

It never once crossed her mind that it was coming from her.

Her vision blurred, darkening the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t look away. Refused to. Their sight would forever be ingrained in her mind. It was her fault they were even coming to this godforsaken event. She had hounded Zagreus to make an appearance after his long hiatus. To drag their baby sister with him. It had been so long since she had been out. Mother and Father wanted nothing more than to see them. Not like this. Never like this.

Melinoë couldn’t even blame Hera for this this time. It felt like she was falling for an eternity towards the ground, half expecting it to swallow her whole and bring her back to the Underworld, where this - the Fall, her life on earth, this - would all be some horrific nightmare she would wake from. She somehow snapped out of her daze only to lunge towards their bodies, clawing at the ground in her scrambled attempts to get to them. To hold them in her arms. She needed to know that this was just an illusion. A horrible trick played on her by Phobos in an attempt to win their stupid little game. But she knew that that wasn’t the case. Couldn’t even bring herself to search the gathering crowd to find him and prove it. Too focused on her siblings, her own madness creeping up from within her like the bile that rose in her throat.

Hati was there at that moment, snatching her out of the air before she was able to reach the bodies, having sensed something was off. Melinoë clawed at him, thrashing, screaming, “Let me go! I need to be with them! Hati, let me go! No, no, no, no,” as he dragged her away. This whole day reeked of suspicion and it was only now, as he held his friend back that those fears were confirmed. ”I’ve got you,” He whispered into her hair,calming her as best he could, pulling her back and shielding her from the sight of those on the floor. The rest of the room was in a panic, fleeing from the scene or moving closer to get a view of a dead god. It wasn’t something that had happened, to their knowledge, in this day and age. Only those who were well versed in destruction and death stood their ground and began to congregate to whisper of the scene before them.

The white wolf had to bite his tongue before he bit theirs and instead motioned towards Artemis to come take a closer look. He would have to pass Madness off on Phobos, get him to take her away along with her parents. They shouldn’t be here to witness this of all things.

Artemis stepped forward from her place at Athena’s side as her brother moved to help Phobos with Melinoë. For a moment, she half expected the children of death to spring to life, wounds healing as they should have. But they did not. Their bodies remained cold and lifeless on the floor. As whispers began to sweep the room, Artemis knelt beside the corpses, peering at the wounds with the eyes of a hunter.

Macaria had died first, quickly. The blade had pierced her from behind. She hadn’t seen a wound like this in centuries. The mortals had long ago lost their taste for swords.

Zagreus had gone fighting. His hands were wounded, most likely trying to catch the blade. A blow to the heart had ended his fight. “Hati, see if you can catch a scent,” Artemis commanded, still scanning the bodies for evidence.

Without hesitation he was on it, the only one to give orders that he would jump at the chance to complete. Getting low to the floor, Hati sniffed the corpses of the fallen. It was that scent again. The one that had been plaguing the venue since before he arrived. This would prove a bit more difficult than he would like to admit yet still he followed the putrid stench.

It was almost like he could see the tendrils wafting off the bodies in the center of the room, winding and weaving up, up to the skylight above before disappearing over the top. They needed to get up there, follow the trail before it went cold. He motioned above and then to the stairs leading to the roof, ”Gotta get up there,” it wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement and he was taking off before any other instructions were given.

Upon arriving on the roof the tendrils swirled through the shattered glass before congregating not but twenty feet away. Just like a pointer Hati was calling attention to the Huntress at the sight he found. A single matte black card, embossed in gold with a logo and script. He didn’t spare it a long enough glance before his eyes trailed along the ground once more, gaze following the trickle of blood splatter and caught sight of a weapon. One that looked all too familiar to him, lay there on the ground. It’s bladed edge coated in blood. He turned to Artemis, looking back and forth between her and the sword, a form of fear creeping its way up his spine before lodging itself at the base of his neck, ”This, this… this was supposed to be lost. O-Or locked up or something… it’s not supposed to be here.” The shaking of his voice wasn’t familiar to him and it worried him that the simple sight of a weapon would cause this shift.

Artemis picked up the blade, studying the runes carved into the shining gold. Centuries had not dulled the sheen of this sword, a weapon she’d only read about. “Dainsleaf. Didn’t realize this survived the Fall.” She looked behind her, down at the crowd below. They both knew what this meant. A Norse blade, two dead Greeks? At best it would be chaos down there upon hearing the news, at worst, war. “We’re going to have to tell the others about this. They’ll want answers.” Artemis groaned. She did not like being without answers. “We’ll have to tell them something. Deal with the mortals. Put Athena on the case and keep Hades and Persephone from starting a fucking war.”

It was an order he didn't want to obey but it was one that needed to be done. Hati knew what would erupt if things got leaked, if what they knew was discovered. He wasted no time in getting to ground level and pulled Athena to the side informing her of her newly appointed duties, "We need all hands on deck for this. Keep them as in the dark as possible until we know everything." There wasn't any other way he could have stressed the importance of it all without exposing his hand. Athena was smart, she would understand.

From there he began to round up the mortals, which wasn't difficult as they all congregated towards the back of the venue. With the most charming smile he could muster he sauntered into their space, hoping to calm their nerves with a carefree sort of attitude, "Bet you didn't think you would be working a murder mystery luncheon, did you?" A lie that rolled off so easily it made him sick.

While Hati lied to the mortals, Artemis was calling her girls to the club, in an attempt to gain control over the crime scene. Of course, Hera sensed the authority of hostess slipping through her fingers as the party devolved into chaos. She would not be sidelined, not today. As Artemis returned her phone to her bag, Hera materialized beside her, stern and cold.

“What did you and the dog find? I won’t be kept out of the loop,” Hera said, keeping her voice low. “Should the festivities be halted?”

Artemis shot Hera a curious look. Was that fear in her voice? Fear from almighty Hera? Regardless, it would be harder to ice Hera out right now, than it would be to just oblige her, at least a little. “We found a weapon. Athena will be looking into it. That is all we know.”

Hera scoffed. “What weapon could do this?” She had encountered no such danger in all her years walking the earth. As far as she knew, this kind of incident should not have been possible. Even so, she hadn’t known Zagreus to survive the Fall. It seemed there were mysteries upon mysteries that she did not know the answer to.

“What am I telling Mel, Artemis?” Apollo’s voice cut into their conversation as he stepped into place beside his sister. The voice, soft and melodic, threw Hera back, only weeks earlier, to the last time she’d heard that sound, crackling out over the radio.

<sub>“Alright my early risers, I wanted to share something with you. It’s a little bit of a work in progress, a bit alternative, but let me know what you think.

At a gathering of fallen stars, two fall farther, farthest, dead
Slain by a blade, cursed to draw blood, no hope in store for the lost son
Spirits gather round the raven’s head,
While old crimes stain the queen’s plumage, deep, deep red.</sub>

The memory was vivid, crisp and clear. She’d dismissed the song as more of Apollo’s drivel, requested her assistant change the channel and moved on. Now she saw it for the prophecy it was. He had foreseen this. “What do you know?” Hera spat, whirling on Apollo and shoving her finger into his face.

Apollo put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Apollo replied, calm and cool, “but I’m gonna ask that you get your finger out of my face. Can’t damage the moneymaker after all.”

“You foresaw this, I heard you. On the radio, you sang some stupid-”

“Woah, I’m gonna stop you right there. One, none of my songs are stupid. Even the stupid ones. Two, I don’t see shit anymore, Hera. The lyrics come to me, I can’t tell what’s prophecy and what isn’t. If I predicted this, it was an accident.”

Hera growled and shook her head, marching back to her place on the stairs. She would not be made a fool of here, in this place. Someone was coming, for her, for her family, for all of them. They would not get her, not today. Let their enemies come for them when they are full of ambrosia, let them see what happens then. “Don’t worry everyone, the situation is being dealt with. For now, I think it’s appropriate to call the festivities here. Apples will be distributed, and information will be gathered. After that, you are free to leave.”

Artemis spoke up then, to add her own commands. “If you think you have any information, or that you might be able to offer up a particular skill set, speak with Athena or myself. We’ll be taking point on this, unless someone has any objections.”

Hera sighed. T’was an abrupt ending indeed.

---

As the fallen fell furthest of all, the chambers shook. As blood flowed freely from immortal wounds, never to be healed, a hollow screech bellowed from below. An echoing cavern deep, deep below, tangled in the roots of the Tree, hidden from sight, cried out in anguish. Icy breath escaped from the once tightly shut confines, enveloping the space in fog. Hephaestus was concerned. It wasn't like he witnessed the Waking on a daily basis. The world was changing, reshaping in preparation for a new age… It was the start of something big and yet no one, down below or above, would have seen it coming. He just hoped they would forgive him.

Marvel: Judgment Day

this has me hooked

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{a @smarty0114 & @metanoia collab
mentions: Odin @KZOMBI3 & Ares @Legion02}

---

“Love the outfit, Artemis. Green and pink aren’t my colors, but you always had a habit of making things work for you. So enlighten me: who do you think will be the source of most of our future headaches in the immediate future?”

“I do, don’t I?”

A rare smile graced Artemis’ face as Athena arrived beside her, happy to have the company. Her half-sister was often the only member of her pantheon that she could stomach for long. It was rare she found someone more clever than her, and besides, she had no girls to watch over for the day. In the absence of work, she supposed she could let her hair down, just a little.

“Immediate future? I’m sure our wonderful step-mother will push all the buttons that she can by the end of today’s festivities.” Artemis hazarded a glance over to the other side of the room, where her brother was still toying with Melinoe. She rolled her eyes and let them fall on Ares. Brooding as he was, she could not rule him out of any possible trouble. “Though, I suppose one of our brothers will make an effort to upstage her.”

Athena lost her half-smile at the mention of Hera. A complicated relationship, those two had. Some days were tolerable and some days she wished she still had both her Shield of Aegis, which was lost during the crusader days, as well as her full divine powers. There was no proper way to…repay Hera in the weakened state she was. But she couldn’t think about that. It was neither here nor there and she was, at least, in the company of someone who made this obligatory luncheon much more tolerable than if Artemis wasn’t around.

Looking around as Artemis mentioned their brothers, her eyes couldn’t help but fall on Hercules, who she just noticed. “Could always count on the Divine Idiot over there to make things interesting.” She had a fascination with her half-mortal brother, Hercules. She found him annoying but in the way one kept a jester around than a cockroach like she had to assume most saw him.

“Can we blame him? He’s hardly more than a toddler,” Artemis said, swirling her cup gently. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything of interest lately?” Artemis had her hand in a great many pots, and if there was anyone she trusted to aid her, it was the grey eyed Athena. Between searches for their father, keeping tabs on the mortals and their knowledge regarding the existence of the fallen deities, and her own, more personal ambitions, it paid to have a helping hand. Athena was well positioned to hear some interesting whispers, and Artemis loved to gossip.

Athena let out a slight chuckle at the comment Artemis made about Hercules. She agreed, of course, but she found it hilarious because was absolutely right. Athena was fond of Hercules, but he hardly inherited their father’s natural intelligence. That right was reserved for the two goddesses analyzing everything that happened in the ballroom. “Anything interesting, you ask?” Athena hummed, glancing at Artemis. One could say she certainly had something, though Sophia Pellas was urging her not ot say anything. Something about duty and honor, but Athena had to admit, she’s been meaning to get it off her chest and Artemis was, if not anything else, a trusted confidant. Perhaps even someone who could help her out. “Well, I have something you might find interesting. Let me ask you first: what have you heard about a vigilante that goes by The Blue Crusader?”

Artemis snorted. She had never been one for the high drama that putting on a costume and fighting crime required. She preferred to let her prey see her face. “Enough. A few of the girls heard something about one of his nighttime adventures, relayed it back to me. Honestly, I thought it was Apollo. He used to like to play dress up, back in the sixties. The guy sounds a bit too hands on for him though.” Artemis smirked at the distant memory of her brother, clad in spandex. That endeavor had been amusingly short lived.

Athena chuckled at the mere thought that The Blue Crusader could be Apollo. She wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that, but something about the Crusader was that whoever it was, they were careful. Careful enough to not have their identity known to those who they attacked; careful enough that not a simple person even knew what he looked like. “As amusing as it would be to find out that our brother was behind it, you’re right. It’s too hands-on and, to be quite frank with you, Artemis, this Crusader is too smart to be anyone even remotely close to Apollo.” Though her tone was serious, she chuckled again. “But he struck again last night. At the docks in Belltown. Five men were injured, all with several cuts and premature bruises all over their body.”

“Well, that seems to rule out most of our family. Smarts have never been their strong suit,” Artemis said, a wry smile creeping across her face. “Probably eliminates most mortals as well. Useful as they can be, I can’t imagine one of them being able to stump you.” Silver eyes scanned the room, observing each immortal like they were a deer she was tracking. “Have you tried our friends from the north?” Artemis nodded in the direction of Odin and Loki. “This isn’t either of their styles, but Odin can be helpful, if you’re willing to owe him a favor. He does have an annoying tendency to know things.”

Athena mused a sound at the mention of Odin. She had what one might call an interesting history with Odin -- one that Athena would neither call favorable nor unfavorable. Artemis was right, of course. Odin was one of the most knowledgeable deities of their kind. Even if she had not conversed with him in such a manner in quite some time, that much she remembered as clear as the fall of Troy. But she just didn’t agree with Artemis about Odin but how none of those from their own pantheon fit the motive or style. Either too idiotic to not get caught or too arrogant to not want at least someone to know it was them. The Blue Crusader had to be someone both with the humility to not seek fame among their peers and with enough brains to do so without getting caught.

And the longer she thought about it, Athena wasn’t sure if she wanted to know who he was to arrest or congratulate them. It was a perplexing situation for the Greek Goddess of Wisdom, to say the least. “Perhaps I’ll give the Alfather a visit. Not here, of course. Hardly the place to talk about such a sensitive matter. Perhaps after today’s festivities. Surely he could make time for me.” In the back of her mind, Athena dreaded what Aretemis said might come to pass: owing Odin a favor. It didn’t frighten her, but the reputation that the Alfather amassed made her worry.

“Surely if he won’t, you’ll make the time yourself,” Artemis said, flashing Athena her playful smile. “Let me ask you a question now. Have you heard from Hephaestus recently?” Artemis swirled her champagne and slid her eyes across the ballroom. “Girls tell me he’s been seen more and more recently. It’s not like him.” Artemis was a huntress, and she knew that animals, divine or otherwise, did not change their behaviour without reason.

Glancing at Artemis, she hummed in a thoughtful way at the mention of their brother. “Hephaestus?” She repeated back as she thought to the last time she remembered even hearing from her brother. As unfavorable as he was in her opinion, past incidents of their interactions still bearing a rather lasting impression on her, in the years spent among mortals the Goddess of Wisdom has come to soften up on him somewhat. He still retained negative thoughts on him, but she did not loathe him like Hera did. “I cannot say that I have. Truth be told, I think it’s been a few decades since I had any contact with him in any sense.” She subtly pursed her lips, hiding resurfaced feelings as she sipped her champagne. Swallowing the small sip, Athena asked, “Why do you ask? What’s troubling you, Artemis?”

Artemis pursed her lips, and pondered the question for a moment. “It’s probably nothing. Just… variances. You know I don’t like when things aren’t in their place, and Hephaestus has been out of place more and more recently. If it’s not nothing… well then he’s looking for something, and whatever he wants, I want it more.” Artemis didn’t trust her family. Most of them were scheming, self serving, liars, and while she supposed she wasn’t so different, at least she was herself. Anything that was of value to her brothers, was more valuable to her.

The Goddess of Wisdom chuckled to herself, making casual glances around the ballroom as Artemis spoke. She too wondered what that atrocious-looking troll of a God was looking for (if he even was). Who was to say? Maybe he was just trying to give weight to an interest in him that has been nonexistent for centuries. Athena certainly hasn’t given the troll any place in her mind since before the fall -- though, if she was completely honest, even centuries before that, Athena gave little care to him. Even the likes of Hera were more tolerable in her mind than the wretched beast that burst from her loins (in a matter of speaking).

“Do you have any leads on his whereabouts? Or maybe a last known location? Perhaps the Alfather could help, as well. Not that I am particularly fond of owing him two favors, but if it is something he might be able to assist, especially if it will finally shed some light on the troll’s location, it may just be worth the hassle.” Internally, Athena doubted the very thing she stated. Stories of Odin reached even the Greek Pantheon and not everything that reached her ears were favorable stories. Still, she stood by what she said about it possibly being worth it.

“Honestly, I was expecting him to be here. Seems he’s chosen to forgo today’s festivities.” Artemis shook her head. Something was perturbing her, she just could not see what. “You’re right about Odin. It can’t hurt, seeing what he knows. Perhaps it’s time we pay him a visit,” Artemis said, smiling her hunter’s smile.

“We huh?” Athena smirked, poising her glass to her lips. She smirked under and it hummed a thoughtful sound, one that had many of her brilliant thoughts pumping through her mind. “Just like the good old days.”

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

Douglas Wolff TW:Some Sad, Dark, Violence

▲ Trojan Horse

Douglas Michael Wolff

^{Nickname(s): N/A}

One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star

– Friedrich Nietzsche

╟ April 12th (21) || Caucasian || Cis Male || Democrat, Atheist || Homosexual || Painfully Single ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

____________________________________________________________________

A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || Mr. Wolff certainly met our standards for intelligence and combat aptitude. However, his scores in decision-making and morality leave something to be desired. He is all too willing to risk innocent lives in pursuit of his goals, and his means seem unnecessarily brutal at times. I worry that his cynical world view, compounded with the identities of his parents, would make for a difficult case.

|| Practical test || Mr. Wolff showed impressive combat aptitude during his practical exam. While he might not be the most powerful Gifted we've seen, he uses his abilities with a cleverness that is almost frightening. He is a creative mind when it comes to combat. He displayed an excellent understanding of how and when to use his abilities, and his combat skills were impressive for an applicant with no formal training. Ultimately, I worry that rejection from either Crystal Peak or Crestview would take Mr. Wolff out of our view, and this feels like a colossal misstep.

|| Written essay topic || Mr. Wolff wrote a very compelling essay about collateral damage in Hero work, highlighting the rising stats and positing some possible causes behind the rise. Worth noting that he neglected to mention his personal connection to the subject, and some of his language implied a persistent focus on the topic. Like I noted earlier, we must be very careful not to subject Mr. Wolff to further exclusion or trauma on behalf of the Gifted community.

|| Video supplement || "Look, if you're watching this, you've read my file. You know who I am, who my parents are. So I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I'm some perfect paragon of virtue. What I will say, is that I'm the person who does what needs to be done. I'm the one who can get the launch codes back, or steal the files that need stealing. Most heroes are hammers, which is fine, because most villains are nails. Some villains though, are tumors, and for a tumor, you need a scalpel. Let me be that scalpel."

S C H O O L

Crestview College

Y E A R

Senior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Mental

O C C U P A T I O N

TA for Professor Morgan

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

Clearview Street Residence Complex

I N T E R N S H I P S

Interned with The Watcher, a Subtlety focused hero who taught him a number of new stealth techniques.

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

____________________________________________________________________

Life is good at Crestview, when you're a technopath under the protection of Phoebe Masterson. Everyone knows Douglas, because they have to. Sure, he's Phoebe and Brenna's lap dog, content to sit on the sidelines of whatever trouble they stir up. He's also one of the only kids in the school that can remotely access technology. Wanna know if your boyfriend's cheating on you? Douglas will waltz right into his DMs and give you all his dirty secrets. Need a nasty picture scrubbed from the internet? Douglas is your man. He's more than just a lap dog. He's campus IT and keeper of secrets, rolled into one little bundle of snark and cynicism.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

____________________________________________________________________

A B I L I T I E S

Technopathy - Douglas is able to control and communicate with technology in a way that far supersedes the abilities of any mundane techie. To him, computers are friends, willing to do anything if he asks nicely. The very building blocks of civilization whisper to him. From microwaves to virtual assistants, if it's powered by electricity or receives a signal, Douglas can feel it, speak with it, and control it. This ranges in application from remote piloting and activation, to full on control of a system, allowing him to push technology past it's intended function. When using his power to it's fullest extent, he can see through your phone camera, dig through your search history, and corrupt any file he'd like, all without leaving the comfort of his bed.

L I M I T A T I O N S

When in his normal state of consciousness, Douglas is unable to do much more than issue simple commands. If you could do it while sitting at your computer, Douglas can do it from a hundred feet away. In order to exhibit full control over a piece of technology, Douglas must actually shift his consciousness into the device, leaving his body vulnerable to attack. If he were to die in this state, there's no telling what would happen to Douglas' mind.

C O M B A T

Douglas relies heavily on the use of gadgets in combat, as well as his own weapons training. Douglas wields a handful of devices in battle, that he can interface with and use in the heat of battle. His primary weapon is a staff, lovingly designed by Abe Blackwell, outfitted with tasers on either end, and a sonic transmitter that was built to produce a noise high pitched enough that it'll bring a human to their knees. Both devices can be activated with just a thought. Also on his toolbelt are a set of remotely detonated smoke grenades, a small drone designed to inject an adversary with a highly effective sedative, and two specially made throwing knives, affectionately nicknamed Thelma, and Louise . The hilt of each knife is actually a drone, programmed to return to the sheaths on his ankles. Do not let him take out Thelma and Louise.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

____________________________________________________________________

D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Black | Curly | Long, covering his forehead, both perfectly messy, and perfectly positioned.
• Eyes: Green
• Height: 5'10"
• Body Type: Slender, yet toned
• Clothing Style: High-end | 1 2 3 4
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Left ear pierced with a silver hoop

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Lightweight, hooded coat, bulletproof. Body armor underneath, laced with lights that he can operate on a whim. Combat boots with an ankle sheath for a throwing knife attached. A black mask with lenses connected to his virtual assistant, offering him real time combat updates when called for.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Douglas is a boy who's always been too smart for his own good. He's a scoundrel with a code, to clever not to con as much as he can out of life, but too altruistic to truly give himself over to a life of maliciousness. He believes in his own code of ethics, one that simply insists on punching up rather than down. No matter what, he's never gonna make the little guy his enemy. The big guy on the other hand? Well, there's nothing Douglas hates more than pompous asshole who doesn't deserve what they've got. When Douglas decides you're out, he'll make it his mission to expose you, consequences be damned. If he wasn't so sure that his way was the right way, this might be a virtue. However, Douglas only listens to those he respects, and his respect is painfully hard to come by. Snobby, self serving and smart, Douglas Wolff is the person the heroes need, the one who walks the line they're all too scared to walk.

F E A R S

The Cobra. He's the hero that killed his father, and no matter how many years pass, the phantom of him still haunts his nightmares.

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

____________________________________________________________________

L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

The Wolffs

Diana Wolff - Mother; The villain known as Blindspot. Currently imprisoned in a maximum security prison for villains, known by it's inhabitants as, The Pit. Charges include grand larceny, kidnapping, blackmail, and murder.

Anthony Wolff - Father; The villain formerly known as The Molecule. Killed during an attempted arrest of him and his wife Diana.

Dylan Wolff - Younger Brother; Seven years younger than Douglas and the reason for everything that he does. Douglas doesn't care about a lot, but he will never abandon his brother.

Jacob Wolff - Uncle; Formerly a contractor, he was paralyzed during the attempted capture of Gammadon about five years ago. He's taken care of Douglas and his brother, ever since their parents were taken from them. He's a good man, despite the cynicism and gruffness.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

____________________________________________________________________

Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

In the timeline of Douglas Wolff's life, there is a time before the Raid, and a time after. Before the Raid, he lived with his parents in a penthouse apartment, enjoying a life of luxury. He always had a knack for technology and video games, and eventually he had a younger brother to share in his passions. There was always something to do, food to eat, friends to meet and mischief to make. Sure, that life might've been bankrolled by the myriad of shady jobs his parents never wanted to talk about, but things inside that penthouse were perfect. Until they weren't.

Douglas remembers the night of the Raid almost perfectly. The sound of glass shattering awoke him from his sleep. He'd thought it a dream, until he heard the fighting outside his door. At twelve years old, he stood in that doorway, too afraid to call out, too stunned to turn away, and watched his father get beat into submission by a creep in a cape. That night, everything changed.

His mother was arrested, and his father succumbed to his injuries in the hospital. It hadn't even been a team of real heroes who'd taken him down, just a bunch of amateurs fresh out of Crystal Peak, who'd caught a lucky lead. There wasn't even a funeral. Douglas and Dylan were forced out of the penthouse, had the majority of their possessions reclaimed as stolen property, and shipped off too Harris Point, Montana to live with their uncle.

Jacob Wolff was nothing like their parents, and he was unprepared for two young children to show up on his door. Still, he tried his best to protect the boys, and as Douglas' powers began to manifest, he did what he could with what little he had, to support his nephew. Grieving the death of his father and the imprisonment of his mother, Douglas turned to technology for comfort. With the manifestation of his gifts, he was never truly alone, not in a world where circuits and wires connected everything around him.

Those early years in Montana weren't perfect, but they weren't terrible. They settled into a routine, him and Dylan and Jacob, and eventually, Douglas started to feel safe. He should've known it wouldn't last.

Jacob was at work when the fight between Gammadon and Rapture touched down in Harris' Point. Rapture flew Gammadon into the ground so fast it created a 6.3 magnitude earthquake that almost destroyed the small town. Jacob had been three stories up, working on a roof when the quake began. He fell to the ground, shattering his spine, and leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. The life that Douglas had begun to settle into was once again torn apart, by the people who'd supposedly sworn to protect him.

That day, Douglas made the decision to live life for three people: his brother, his uncle, and himself. His abilities allowed him to follow in his parents' footsteps easier than most, and with far less evidence. Pretty easy to wire yourself money and cover up your tracks, when you can hack an ATM with your mind. Douglas became the primary caretaker of the family, providing money that his uncle refused to question, and in the meantime, he set his sights on Crystal Peak. He was going to do anything in his power to get his hero license, and expose them for what they were: uncaring fucking monsters.

When acceptance letters rolled out though, it wasn't Crystal Peak that took him in. It was Crestview. Once again, the heroes of the world had refused him entrance into the circle of safety they provided one another. Once again, they'd relegated him to the shadows, better to be forgotten than dealt with. He took the slight in stride. He was better than Crestview, better than Crystal Peak, and he would show it to them all.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

____________________________________________________________________

Timotheé Chalamet, 285d93
Hobbies include shopping, programming, and video games

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

James Tyler

▲ Superhot

James Alexander Tyler

^{Nickname(s): Asshole, JT, The One and Only King of Comedy}

Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well

– M.I.A.

╟ March 20th (20) || Caucasian || Cis Male || Atheist, Progressive || Pansexual || Single and Mingling ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

____________________________________________________________________

A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || Mr. Tyler showed phenomenal prowess in the decision making section of the test, and displayed a mind more than competent enough for fieldwork. Based on his video supplement, one might not of expected such a high score, but there is apparently more here than meets the eye. If his scores on the morality questions are anything to go off of, Mr. Tyler will be a fine addition to Crystal Peak.

|| Practical test || Mr. Tyler put on an excellent showing during his practical exam. Speed was obviously off the charts, but his strength and endurance were impressive as well. It's clear that despite no formal training, he has kept himself in shape, and familiar with his powers. He still has much to learn in the control department, but he is certainly up to the task.

|| Written essay topic || Mr. Tyler submitted an essay about three major heroes from the last fifty years, and the influences they had over society as a whole. A surprisingly well written piece considering the in-person interactions we had with him, he demonstrated a strong grasp of the repercussions heroes have throughout society.

|| Video supplement || James Tyler is sitting as still as he possibly can, which for him, involves an absurd amount of fidgeting. His foot raps out an impossibly fast rhythm against the floor

"I guess, if I had to say, I'm all about helping the little guy. Or, not the little guy, but the people who can't help themselves. My dad and my brother don't have powers, and, I don't know, I think I couldn't sleep if I didn't know that I was out there, making the world a better place for them. I mean, it's great that I can get from coast to coast faster than you can say 'Where the fuck did he go?' but it doesn't mean anything unless I do something with it, right? That's who I want to be.

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak

Y E A R

Junior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Personal/Transportation

O C C U P A T I O N

"My dad's are rich as fuck, why the hell would I get a job?"

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

The Towers at Crystal Lake Commons

I N T E R N S H I P S

Interned with Nextwave this past summer, studying under famed speedster, Whiplash.

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

____________________________________________________________________

Lovable and loathsome all at once, James is something of an acquired taste. He's not the type to hit the books day in and day out, in fact, he might seem like he doesn't take any of this seriously at all. Still, no one can say much about his antics, considering he regularly places in the top ten portion of his class. A prankster, a man-whore, and the guy who knows where every party is. Love him or hate him, James Tyler is an essential part to the Crystal Peak experience.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

____________________________________________________________________

A B I L I T I E S

James Tyler was blessed with the gift of super speed, as well as an enhanced physiology to support the intense speeds he can reach. He's fast, like, really fast. If the sound barrier were the law, he'd be in jail, cause all he does is break it. His speed is not limited to running either. He's able to move individual parts of his body at intense speeds, allowing for rapid fire punches, kicks, and other attacks designed to inflict bodily harm.

L I M I T A T I O N S

James may be resistant to insanely high speeds, but aside from his super suit, very little of his equipment is. That's fine by him though. Far as he's concerned, all he needs are Righty and Lefty. While James is hell to fight one on one, he's not without his weaknesses. Anything that restricts or impairs his movement is incredibly difficult for him to overcome, as are tight spaces where he is unable to build up speed.

C O M B A T

Simply put, fighting James Tyler is a pain in the fucking ass. He likes to attack in waves, moving too fast to hit before launching out of seemingly thin air to land a devastating blow, and continuing the cycle. James' biggest weakness in combat however, is his ego. He often falls into traps when he underestimates his opponent, and is far too fond of proving his prowess with words in the heat of battle.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

____________________________________________________________________

D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Dark brown | Wavy | When it's long, he parts it down the middle, though most of the time it's just a shaggy, windswept mop atop his head
• Eyes: Brown
• Height: 5'9"
• Body Type: Muscular, gymnast's frame
• Clothing Style: Streetwear | 1 2 3 4
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Scar along his right side from when he wiped out going Mach 2. Resistant is not the same as invincible.

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Skintight body suit made of specially designed kevlar, with pieces of body armor attached to the shoulders, chest, and knees. His mask is simply a pair of goggles, designed to transmit his view back to HQ and provide visual markers in a field operation. Goggles are also designed to track speed and trajectory, not just his own, but also those of his enemies as well.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

James is the best (or worst, depending on who you're asking) parts of his father's combined. Witty and resourceful like Jamie, but brave and outspoken like AJ, needless to say, he was a menace growing up. James is happiest when everyone around him is laughing, giving him a bit of a reputation as the class clown. He's high energy, in every sense of the term. Of course, as far as flaws go, James is full of them. He's impulsive, and arrogant, and all too often he seems to forget that he is not the center of the universe. He's lovable though, and much too fast to smack across the head anyways.

F E A R S

Responsibility. Ugh.

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

____________________________________________________________________

L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

Jamie Tyler (nee Callaghan) - Father; Polished and put together, Jamie is the Hero editor at the LA Times, focusing on the exploits of the countries most famous and beloved heroes.

AJ Tyler - Father; Owns his own autoshop line and gets involved with some more unsavory clientele on the side. AJ is the heart of the Tyler family in a lot of ways, and James' role model. Gifted with accelerated perception and reflexes, and enhanced healing. Don't challenge him to a drag race.

Nathan William Tyler - Older Brother; Two years older than Nathan, and unpowered. He's spent most of his life harboring a decent bit of jealousy towards his brothers, but he's a good kid at heart. Currently in talks to take over the Tyler family business one day.

Cole Phillip Tyler - Younger Brother; He'd be a genius, if he just applied himself. A botanokinetic who spends more time growing weed in his room than training for heroics. Too smart for his own good, currently working on giving Jamie a heart attack.

Katie Callaghan - Aunt; Jamie's sister and a famous actress, best known for her recent work in Brilliant: The Shining Spector Story

Molly Tyler - Aunt; Marine biologist, based out of Monterey. She watched the boys a lot when they were kids, and James has always enjoyed running up to Monterey to spend time with her.

Haylee Summerfield-Tyler - Grandmother; AJ's mother and an actress with an illustrious career behind her.

Dominic Tyler - Grandfather; AJ's father, retired from the family business, but always good for a beer, when James just wants to talk.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

____________________________________________________________________

Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

Jamie Callaghan and AJ Tyler weren't met to be the first time they met. Or the second. The third try though, well, that was something. Jamie was home from college, recently graduated, and AJ was doing his best to move past the cycle of addiction that had been plaguing him for years. The result? A risky rekindling, that grew and grew until there was no way they could run from it anymore. They were married by twenty four, and had their first son, Nathan, by twenty six.

Jamie and AJ Tyler weren't expecting Gifted children. Sure, AJ had some powers, but nothing groundbreaking. Nathan had been perfectly mundane, normal in the most perfect sense of the word. James on the other hand, started manifesting his powers shortly after his second birthday. Ever met a toddler with super speed? It stops being cute very quickly. Jamie wrote about heroes for a living, but he'd never expected to have one living under his roof. He tried his best with James, but try as he might, Jamie was never good at letting go of control. AJ on the other hand, he knew what it was like to want to go faster, faster, faster.

James grew up trying to emulate AJ. He developed a love of fast cars, a stubbornness that drove both his dads insane, and an inclination towards caring way more than he should. James never got the training of a hero, hell, he hardly has the attitude. But god damn it, he has the heart for it, and that much was obvious to anyone who encountered him on his way to adulthood.

Crystal Peak was always the goal. He'd been worried about acceptance, not that he'd ever admit that to anybody, but his Aunt Katie called in a few favors and made sure they took an extra hard look at his application. Hey, he's never claimed to be against nepotism, so don't come bitching to him about it. His acceptance was a milestone for the family, who'd yet to experience having an honest to god Hero among them. Even now, that day the letter came is one of his happiest.

James took to Crystal Peak like a duck to water. In Beverly Hills, he wasn't the only kid with powers, but he was one of the few who cared to actually do something with them. Sure, he didn't take it as seriously as some of the others, but hell, half of them were from families that lived and breathed this hero stuff. Simply put, James Tyler is so fast, he had time for everything.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

____________________________________________________________________

Tom Holland, #ff9c23
Bassist with East of Eden, spends most of his free time working out or eating, with very little in between.

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

Brenna Lancaster

▲ Subzero

Brenna Marie Lancaster

^{Nickname(s): Bre, B, Lancaster}

History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.

– Winston Churchill

╟ December 20th (21) || Caucasian || Female || Outspoken atheist, registered Democrat || Bisexual || Single ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

____________________________________________________________________

A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || Ms. Lancaster excelled in the problem solving and history sections of the written exam. Her leadership abilities, and risk assessment capabilities have been referred for evaluation. She was all too willing to endanger innocent lives.

|| Practical test || Ms. Lancaster showed incredible aptitude with her Gifts, and proved to be a quick thinker throughout the exam. Strength and agility are abilities she will have to hone over her time with us.

|| Written essay topic || Ms. Lancaster chose to respond to the question, 'What was your greatest triumph?' She wrote a rather touching description of her attempts to get her mother into rehab. The applicant showed a masterful grasp of language and prose, though we may want to look at other options, given the contents of the essay.

|| Video supplement || Brenna Lancaster sits in front of a camera, younger, but poised as ever.

"Why do I want to be a hero? Why does anyone? I grew up in the city, heroes are a way of life there. You can't walk down the street without seeing some kid dressed up like Bulwark or Captain Crimson. The only thing I can do with my powers is use them, so I might as well help people. And you know what, I'll be honest and say that I think I'd be good at it. Not just the fighting and the saving people, but the inspiring parts. The speeches and the glad handing and the intense poses. I was fucking born for this."

Brenna slips a stray hair behind her ear.

"Does that answer the question?"

S C H O O L

Crestview College

Y E A R

Junior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Elemental

O C C U P A T I O N

Part-time at Etoile, a luxury boutique

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

Clearview Street Residence Complex

I N T E R N S H I P S

Summer intern with The Five, a Boston based team. Worked on the administration side of superhero management.

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

____________________________________________________________________

Subzero's reputation spread quickly. When you have power like hers, it's inevitable. Phoebe Masterson's little snowflake, the Ice Queen of Crestview, just as dangerous as she was beautiful. Brenna became known for a dark sense of humor, and a cold, unflinching desire for respect. Those who slighted her, learned quickly why others feared her. She was a beast in the arena, and she never forgot an insult.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

____________________________________________________________________

A B I L I T I E S

Cryokinesis. Brenna is able to generate and control ice, frost and snow. She is able to drop the temperature around her with a thought, to summon razor sharp snowflakes and piercing icicles. Her power grants her protection from the cold, empowering her rather than slowing her down. Conversely, extreme heat has been shown to affect her ability to process information, and control her abilities. She is limited only by her dark, dangerous imagination, and the toll her powers take on her body.

L I M I T A T I O N S

The cryokinetic muscle is not unlike those in your legs or arms. It is all too easy to overexert herself in a moment of rage or extreme stress. Overuse results in a hibernation of sorts, wherein, Brenna's body enters a coma-like state while it replenishes energy. Brenna is also weak to extreme heat. Her power begins to fail at temperatures incapable of sustaining ice, and she seems to suffer symptoms of heatstroke far earlier than your average human.

C O M B A T

Brenna is adept at ranged combat, relying on her power over ice to keep enemies at bay. One can expect to be dodging icicles thrown from all angles, and fighting off the creeping effects of frostbite. A fight with Brenna is an obstacle course, but her close combat is nothing compared to some of the masters at Crystal Peak.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

____________________________________________________________________

D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Blonde | Straight (1A) | Straightened and worn down, hair framing her face.
• Eyes: Blue
• Height: 5'8"
• Body Type: Slender frame that's been toned by four years of hero training. She's no strongman, but she isn't the scrawny little girl who arrived on campus almost four years ago.
• Clothing Style: Dark Academia | 1 2 3 4
• Makeup Wise: Mostly natural looking (at least to guys) but her eyeliner and eyeshadow tend to be more fanciful, assuming she doesn't have gym that day.
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: The number 13 just behind her ear

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Skin tight, snow white suit made from specially enhanced leather, designed to withstand extreme cold and more than a few bullets. A simple domino mask and pair of combat boots accompany the piece, and Brenna completes the ensemble herself, with a crown of ice.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

It should come as no surprise that the one word Brenna would use to describe herself, is 'cold.' She is a stoic wall of stone with most people, determined and focused on only that which serves her, no more, no less. With those few souls that Brenna has come to trust, she is somewhat warmer; she has a dark sense of humor and wicked wit that has endeared her to some of the thicker skinned students of Crestview. Cold as she might be, Brenna has a strong sense of right and wrong, and the bravery to do what needs to be done. Some might call her impulsive, or even foolish, but she knows exactly what she's doing. The fact of the matter is, for Brenna, the ends justify the means.

F E A R S

Tight spaces

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

____________________________________________________________________

L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

Erin Lancaster - Mother; a recovering drug addict living in New York. Contact with Brenna is limited to once every year, on Mother's Day.

Heatwave - Father; Missing, presumed dead; a former villain who seems to have fallen off the face of the earth, ever since his escape from prison shortly after Brenna's birth.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

____________________________________________________________________

Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

In a world where gods walk amongst men, Erin Lancaster was painfully average. She grew up middle class, got an associate's degree at a local community college, and had her dreams crushed by the harsh streets of New York City by the time she turned twenty four. In the wake of her umpteenth failed audition, she found herself drowning her sorrows in a sleazy dive bar, dejected and ashamed. This is how she met Heatwave.

She was stumbling home from the bar, he was running from every cop in the city. Looking back on it, she wasn't much more than a hostage, at least in the beginning. That didn't matter much to her though. One moment, she was nobody. The next, she was the only thing standing between a notorious supervillain, and death by firing squad. He demanded they allow him to leave, and it was her who bought him the ticket out. When they had escaped, he told her she was welcome to leave, but she refused. She had wanted fame and fortune, but she'd settle for infamy and imprisonment, if it meant that people would at least know her name.

Her time with Heatwave was fleeting. Over the course of three months, she was spotted at a number of his crime scenes, acting as an accomplice in some capacity. The media, always begging for a story, ran with their version of Erin Lancaster; a frightened young woman, held captive and succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome.

Eventually, Heatwave's story ended like most villain's do; with a defeat. From inside a motel room, just outside of Boston, Erin watched as Heatwave fell, defeated by The Shining Spector. It was easy enough for her to feign innocence with the police. With Heatwave gone, everybody seemed to lose interest in her. The hard part came two weeks later, when she discovered she was pregnant.

So begins the story of Brenna Lancaster. Born out of complication, into even more. Erin had changed in her time with Heatwave, or at least, she had released what was always inside. She grew more and more unstable and it only got worse when he escaped from prison. She waited and waited, and then she waited some more. Heatwave never came for her, or her daughter. He'd forgotten about the waitress from New York City.

Brenna's childhood was volatile, equal parts loving and abusive. Erin was more than happy to regale Brenna with tales of her father, long gone, yet quick to explode in fits of rage. Brenna learned to tread across thin ice, long before she learned to walk.

Their relationship changed somewhat, when Brenna's powers manifested. Erin was once again, in close proximity to the gods she'd come to worship. Brenna became the center of her attention, an unenviable position. Erin cared very little about raising a hero; she wanted a superstar, an icon, a child that would shake the world. She took what little money she made, and devoted it to trainers for her daughter, people focused on raw power rather than control.

All this hard work was supposed to pay off, with an admission to Crystal Peak Academy. Instead, Brenna was relegated to the sister school, tucked away in some corner. Finally free from her mother, Brenna had been expecting a reward, a change. The only change was that at least here, her power earned her respect. As above, so below, goes the old saying. The same was true of Brenna. The ice she'd built around herself began to seep into her. By the time of the fire, she wasn't acting anymore. She was the Snow Queen, through and through. Cold, calloused, and, some might say, crazed. If she cares, it doesn't show. Love is a foreign taste on her tongue, and fear is so much sweeter.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

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Anya Taylor-Joy, lightblue
Pianist, chess player, and occasional sculptor.

William Blake

▲ Aegis

William Arthur Blake

^{Nickname(s): Will}

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.”

– James Baldwin

╟ January 19th (22) || Caucasian || Male || Atheist, Independent (hard left leaning) || Bisexual || Single ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

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A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || Mr. Blake exceeds expectations in all regards. He showed a clear aptitude for leadership and aced the knowledge portions of the exam. His decision-making trends towards "Unwavering Selflessness."

|| Practical test || In terms of wit and power, Mr. Blake is a force to be reckoned with. He's neglected his strength training (not uncommon with telekinetics) but his agility is on par with the rest of the applicants. While he is no more durable than your average young adult, he showed an incredible amount of resilience. His mental fortitude is quite strong.

|| Written essay topic || Mr. Blake chose to forego the traditional essay questions, in favor of one of his own making. He submitted a twelve page essay detailing his experience as the son of a well-know hero. Mr. Blake's response indicated a profound self-awareness, and a genuine desire to live up to his family's expectations. If he is anything like his mother, he will fit in well at Crystal Peak.

|| Video supplement || William Blake levitates a few feet off the ground, sitting straight up like an invisible chair is keeping him afloat.

"I mean, there's nothing else for me. Not really. Hero work is what I've spent my entire life training for. I could get a job anywhere, but none of that really matters right? I can move shit with my mind, it would be selfish of me to just waste that. That's who I want to be. The selfless hero. I don't need a movie, or action figures, or costumes. I just need one kid to see me helping someone, and to decide that he wants to help other people too."

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak Academy

Y E A R

Senior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Mental

O C C U P A T I O N

Warden at Crystal Peak

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

Campus Castle

I N T E R N S H I P S

Interned over the summer at Give Back, a NYC based non-profit that matches Gifted individuals with local problems. He helped a lot of little old ladies.

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

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Will is... well he's Will. He's that upperclassmen that most freshman want to emulate, he's the example used by half the professors at Crystal Peak, he's kind of got a stick up his ass. Of course, that only makes it more enjoyable when he does finally let loose. That said, he's reliable and consistent, and there are worse things for a hero in training to be.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

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A B I L I T I E S

Telekinesis - Will is a powerful telekinetic. He fucking better be, considering the convergence of bloodlines he has running through him. In his time at Crystal Peak, Will has moved on from the petty little parlor tricks he used to impress his friends in high school. He's grown stronger, able to lift a small car with focus and effort, and his control has far exceeded expectations. His last fight in the previous Tournament of Champions, ended after he pinned his opponent to the wall, using shards of concrete he'd broken off from the arena. No blood was drawn.

L I M I T A T I O N S

Will's ability is wholly based on his ability to concentrate. He's especially weak to Mental abilities, as his level of control steeply drops off when his perception of reality is altered. He is a powerhouse, and while nothing but a prolonged fight will do much about the raw power he is able to wield, a clever enemy can hamstring him with ease.

C O M B A T

Will is a bit of a wild card in a fight, having trained for years in different forms of powered combat. He might come in close, wrapping his fists in telekinetic force to deliver a devastating left hook, or he might stay back, keeping an enemy out of range while he flings them across the battlefield.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

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D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Dirty blonde | Wavy | A shaggy mop atop his head, usually swept up and out of his eyes.
• Eyes: Blue
• Height: 6'2"
• Body Type: Slim, but toned. Will prefers lifting with his mind, but the physical rigor of the Crystal Peak curriculum has demanded he beef up his once string bean frame.
• Clothing Style: Preppy/Polished | 1 2 3 4
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Small scar above his left eye, gold hoop in one nostril.

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Blue and white color scheme. A headsock that leaves his hair free, and a lightly armored bodysuit. Detachable, silver spikes ring his forehead, allowing him to use them as projectiles in a fight.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Will is a natural leader, a problem solver, a hero in the truest sense of the word. He's a stickler for rules and authority, a tightly buttoned up young man. He's naturally clever, and years of studying have made him almost insufferably smart. If he wasn't so nice, he'd be a know it all, but as it stands, he doesn't have a condescending bone in his body. If there is a dark side to Will, it only comes out when someone comes for his family. Plenty of people see him, and think him unassuming. They aren't wrong. Will doesn't exude power like some Gifted might, and he doesn't walk with any ego in his step. However, the people he cares about are not to be fucked with, and that's a lesson most need to learn the hard way.

F E A R S

Disappointing his family

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

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L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

The Blake-Cashmore Line

Melissa Blake - Mother; A retired hero who used to go by the codename, The Shining Spector. She's been retired for years, training Will and consulting with the family company in her free time. A kind, gentle woman, with a fierce heart.

Adrien Blake - Father; Adrien doesn't speak much to Will about his past. He knows that he grew up in New York, that he lived in Boston for a while, but not much else. He works in R&D for Cashmore Global, a job Alexander got for him back before he was born. Will doesn't know why. As far as he can tell, his dad and his uncle can't stand each other.

Athena Cashmore - Cousin; Fellow student at Crystal Peak and childhood confidante. William and Athena bonded through the trauma of growing up a Cashmore (or in his case, Cashmore adjacent), and together at Crystal Peak, they're one hell of a team up.

Damien Cashmore - Uncle; Melissa's older brother, and Athena's dad. Quiet, but certainly the more enjoyable of the two Cashmore brothers.

Alyssa Cashmore - Cousin; TBD

Matthew Cashmore - Cousin; In a lot of ways, Matty is the little brother Will never had. He feels responsible for him in a lot of ways, and he's taken him under his wing since he arrived at Crystal Peak.

Alexander Cashmore - Uncle; Melissa's oldest brother, and the current head of the Cashmore family. Alexander can be charming certainly, but he's also a ruthless shark. Still, he's bankrolled most of his family's lifestyle, so as much as he might dislike his uncle, he won't step out of line over a sour personality.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

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Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

From the moment Melissa Cashmore stepped onto the Crystal Peak campus, it was apparent that she would be a legend. Sure, her last name helped a bit, but Melissa had power, and drive, beyond that of her classmates. It was no surprise that she graduated top of her class, and moved into hero work almost immediately afterwards. She was in high demand, and soon, The Shining Spector was one of the greats.

Melissa enjoyed a longer career than most as a hero, operating for ten years before disappearing from the scene. It's not uncommon for heroes to step out of the spotlight after retirement, but even her family were left in the dark concerning Melissa's whereabouts in the months after her retirement. What Will does know for sure, is that when she finally resurfaced, it was with him and his father in tow.

Will wasn't a late bloomer, by any interpretation of the phrase. From the moment he could walk, he could pull toys across the room, using only willpower and innate gifts. His mother doted on him, and his uncle insisted on preparing him for the only life he could ever live; that of a hero.

The young telekinetic was raised on the Cashmore estate, with a host of tutors to train him and his cousins in the use of their abilities. His schedule was a full one, and normalcy was never a privilege afforded to him, or his cousins. They were Cashmores, like it or not. He might not carry the name, but his parents were always quick to remind him that he carried on a legacy anyways. Like it or not, he had responsibilities.

Many might've caved under the pressure, but for better or worse, Will persisted. Persistence has always been a strength of his. Will took the responsibilities thrust upon him in stride; failure was never an option for him. He would be a hero, or... well, he didn't really know what other options there were.

While Crystal Peak might've been a change of pace for others, it was more of the same for Will. He'd been training all his life, the only difference now was that he could sneak off to party if he wanted to. Spoiler alert: he never really wanted to. Will threw himself into his studies and training, the shadow of his family looming large at all times.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

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Tom Webb, deepskyblue
Hobbies include meditation, studying, and critiquing bad horror movies.

Matthew Cashmore

▲ Facade

Matthew Thomas Cashmore

^{Nickname(s): Matty, Matt}

“You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.”

– Ursula K. Le Guin

╟ March 22nd (18) || Caucasian || Male || Raised Catholic, registered Democrat || Closeted Homosexual || Single ╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

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A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || While Mr. Cashmore's exam was mostly a formality, he shows great promise. His knowledge of history is excellent (as expected) and while he seemed to waver on the decision based questions, he would be a very promising addition to the Support class. I know his father is very adamant about his placement, but this is something to consider.

|| Practical test || Physically, Mr. Cashmore seems far behind the rest of his class. He has a solid foundation in terms of hand to hand combat, but he does not seemed especially inclined towards violence. He scored well enough on the agility section of the exam, but his real strength is in his abilities. Shocking, I know. Mr. Cashmore exhibited a stunning level of psychic prowess, prowess that he seemed mostly unaware of. Even if he wasn't a Cashmore, acceptance might be necessary to ensure his powers are monitored.

|| Written essay topic || Mr. Cashmore's essay was an uncharacteristically bold argument, suggesting more potential than initially clocked. He focused on the current failings of the hero system, particularly in regards to rehabilitation. While his thoughts were idealistic at best, naive at worst, his argument was well researched, and impassioned. He certainly cares enough to be a hero.

|| Video supplement || "Are you ready?" Matthew Cashmore is seated in a small, brightly lit room. His eyes look past the camera for a moment, before looking straight into the lens.

"I mean, everyone wants to help people, right? I don't think I'm special for that. The thing is, I think that's all I want to do. I don't need anyone to even know who I am. Honestly, I don't even need the fancy suit. There's not enough of us who are okay operating from the shadows, but I can do it. I don't need the attention or the praise, I just need to know that I'm helping."

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak Academy

Y E A R

Freshman

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Mental

O C C U P A T I O N

#Trustfundbaby

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

The Towers at Crystal Lake Commons

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

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If Matthew Cashmore had any other last name, he would've been a freak. He's shy and standoffish, and nobody likes a psychic, especially one that can pull your thoughts out and display them for the world to see. Luckily for him though, the Cashmore name offers a fair bit of protection. At his private school, kids found him "unique," and "funny," mainly because they were enchanted by his money and status.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

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A B I L I T I E S

Empathic Illusions - Matthew is something of a psychic, something of an illusionist. He can't read minds in the traditional sense, however, he can pull the thoughts of others out into reality, shaping them into lifelike illusions. Fears, dreams and desires, even mundane thoughts, are fair game, allowing him to turn a battlefield into a minefield of lies and illusions.

L I M I T A T I O N S

Matthew is not a psychic in the traditional sense, and as such, has little knowledge of what he can summon. Currently, his illusions have no substance, and while they are convincing, they are little more than a fancy distraction in a fight.

C O M B A T

Matthew is a stealth based combatant, focused on distracting his enemies with psychic illusions, and getting in close enough to take them out quickly and quietly. Despite his unassuming stature, take downs are his specialty, thanks to years of training at Cashmore manor. Those bony elbows don't seem so frightening, until they're cracking into you from behind.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

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D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Black | Mostly Straight, somewhat wavy |
• Eyes: Grey
• Height: 5'8"
• Body Type: Scrawny
• Clothing Style: Type of Fashion | 1 2 3 4
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Self-explanatory

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

Mr. Cashmore is still very much undecided on how he would like to visually present his superhero identity.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Awkward and shy, Matthew Cashmore is the definition of a wallflower. He's never felt comfortable in the spotlight, despite his family's status in the world, or perhaps because of. He is all too happy to sit back and let others take the credit. At times, it's almost a miracle to think he is the son of the great Alexander Cashmore. Matthew is quiet, where his father is assertive, content where his father is ambitious, and idealistic where his father is cynical.

F E A R S

Being useless, or a burden

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

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L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Cashmore

Alexander Cashmore - Father; A complicated, difficult man. Matthew's relationship with his father has had very few silver linings, and yet, he feels compelled to obey the man.

Alyssa Cashmore - Sister; She blames him for their mother's death, he thinks she's a gaslighting sociopath. So, standard sibling behavior.

William Blake - Cousin; Close friends throughout childhoot, Will and Matt have bonded over the rigors of growing up a Cashmore.

Melissa Blake (formerly Cashmore) - Aunt; The hero formerly known as The Shining Spector, she's a powerful illusionist who tried to fill in with Will's training.

Adrien Blake - Uncle; Melissa's husband and Will's father. Adrien doesn't come around the main house that often, but he can tell his father doesn't like him much.

Damien Cashmore - Uncle; Alexander's younger brother, and Athena's father. He much prefers him to his father.

Athena Cashmore - Cousin; Like with Will, Matt and Elena have common ground, in their distaste for the pressures and pitfalls of the Cashmore lifestyle.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

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Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

Before Matthew was born, there was Alexander and Elena Cashmore, shining jewels of the Gifted world. Alexander had left the hero world behind, but he was never far from his old life. After all, Cashmore Global was built on the backs of Gifted and their abilities. For a time, the couple were happy, idyllic even. They were enjoying their seats at the top, and Elena's pregnancy came as a sign of hope.

They did not expect such a difficult birth. Matthew came into the world as his mother left it, and the only person to greet him was a despondent, broken, father. Alexander took little interest in his son's early years. He was cared for by nanny's, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, but rarely his father. Until his powers manifested that is.

When Matthew's potential began to reveal itself, some time after his eighth birthday, his father began their training together in earnest. Matthew though, was resistant to his powers. Despite his father's tutelage, he resisted the innate gifts he possessed, afraid to strengthen them for fear of what he might become. He'd seen the way his father used his powers, the way he commanded his employees with just a thought. He would not be like that.

Eventually, Alexander's renewed interest in his son faded away to nothing, and Matthew was left to hired trainers, focusing on hand to hand combat. Training was never his favorite activity, but he knew that he had little choice. William and Athena might carry on the Cashmore legacy in their own way, but they would never be him. His father expected him to make it into Crystal Peak, and what his father expected, his father got. Like his cousin, Will, there was never another option for him. Unlike Will, he's never been too happy about it.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

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Finn Wolfhard, facade
Enjoys all things pop culture, underground music, video games, and Gifted History