[hider=Harmon Rottlage][center][img]https://scontent-b-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10403669_305803519615850_1922777086576432780_n.jpg?oh=484ac2a440b5911d2676214c82bb5f6c&oe=5536E6A9[/img][/center]

[u][b]Basic Information[/b][/u]
 
[b]Name:[/b] Harmon Rottlage
 
[b]Nickname/Alias/Etc:[/b] None
 
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
 
[b]Age:[/b] 17
 
[b]Height:[/b] Five feet, ten inches (without accounting for shards)
 
[b]Weight:[/b] 121.3 lbs (shards account for varying weights, averaging up to three pounds before grooming)

[b]Home District:[/b] Dead End
 
[u][b]Appearance[/b][/u]
 
[b]Hair Color:[/b] N/A (no hair)
 
[b]Eye Color:[/b] N/A (no eyes)
 
[b]Ethnicity:[/b] Unidentifiable
 
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b] As far as meta-humans go in terms of physical appearance, Harmon ended up on the wrong side of the gene pool. He possesses a gaunt, pale frame as a result of many years of malnourishment which he has failed or neglected to remedy. His skin is a sickly gray, covered in splits and cracks from birth defects. He possesses no extraneous facial features such as eyes, ears, or a nose. However, in place of the latter two, he has vacant cavities that function much the same as the appropriate appendages would. His lips are surrounded by cracks that extend as his shards develop, capable of reaching up to the shards themselves. Harmon’s skin changes as well, becoming more translucent and adopting a red pigmentation as he enters later growth stages, though this has only occurred once.
 
[b]Attire:[/b] Usually, Harmon dresses himself in a torn white hoodie and a ragged pair of beige cargo shorts. He wraps a weathered blanket around himself when he ventures into the cold. None of these items have been washed in years.
 
[u][b]Personality[/b][/u]
 
[b]Personality:[/b] Harmon is a socially inept wallflower. His experience with NEST has left him on the verge of being a paranoid recluse, trumped only by his compulsive need to scavenge food and equipment. Normally veering away from social interaction, Harmon puts others off given his appearance, spastic gestures, and mumbling. For those who do approach him, however, he doesn’t much regard their presence as extraordinary or anything. In conversation, he’s naturally apprehensive and questioning, but given time, he tends to confide in those he believes he can trust. If he doesn’t forget who they are the next day. Or a week later.
 
[b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b] Harmon collects cameras, batteries, and other electronic devices and resources whenever and wherever he can. He himself doesn’t see it so much as a hobby rather than something as necessary as eating or sleeping, given his physical inability to see without the use of a camera, so he vies to ensure he always has a backup in case of an accident, or if ever someone ‘blinds’ him. Others would probably label it a deranged obsession, though. Harmon also tends to scrawl graffiti and gibberish whenever he’s feeling [i]particularly[/i] disturbed.
 
[b]Skills/Talents:[/b] From years of experience, Harmon knows how to properly dissect, disassemble, and maintain a plethora of electronic and mechanical devices. 
 
[b]Prized Possession:[/b] His camera. Or, whichever one he picks up from his assortment for the day. He has a lot of them, after all.
 
[b]Quote(s):[/b] “Knots… in your hair… straighten… but knots in… in my head… pluck… and pry… hurts… so much…”
 
[b]History/Bio:[/b] Harmon Rottlage is, by all reasonable accounts, no one special. He was born, raised, and will most likely die in the Dead End district of the city of Black Fall. He was the product of a sick, dying man and a gentle woman viewed by many as a monster, both whose names and appearances Harmon has long since forgotten. At the moment of his birth, his mother’s interior organs were torn apart due to the metals lodged in Harmon’s head while he was still in the womb. It was bloody, and it was loud. She, of course, did not survive. Harmon’s father deigned to raise the baby nonetheless, as was his “wife’s” dying wish.
 
Harmon was raised in the Leonard Housing Developments for most of his youth. His father kept him in the same room he was born within, which the baby didn’t leave for the first eight years of his life. Working a terrible job somewhere else in the city at the time, he managed well enough to raise the child. He fed him, educated him, and helped him learn how to control his abilities to the best of his own. Whatever they had, it was meager, but it held together long enough for the boy and his father to forge something of a bond. All of that ended when one day when, out of the blue, Harmon’s father left and never returned. No one knows if he succumbed to whatever disease he had, or he was gunned down or what, but he never came back. Harmon was eight at the time and was afraid of leaving the room he was born and raised in, so he never went to look for his father or ask others where he went. His father also kept the metals in his head plucked and shaved because the boy was too meager to do it himself. So, over time, the metals grew unattended, as did his inability to cope with the pain they brought. After some time, the metals grew so large that Harmon was rendered in a near-comatose state, interfering with much of the electrical equipment and devices in the building beyond his control. After a few dozen complaints were made, NEST agents came in and found the boy, lying on the floor, shifting in and out of perceivable space, head covered in jagged metals that made their surveillance equipment malfunction. After suppressing his abilities some, they performed an on-site “grooming” and took the boy with them.
 
Harmon was processed and registered by NEST after he awoke from his comatose state, and put under heavy suppressants to keep the equipment from malfunctioning. They put the chip in his arm and everything. If today you asked him what the process was like, he would shake and stutter, unable to respond appropriately. They asked him where his family was but he couldn’t tell them. The sheer mental weight that the metals put on his thoughts caused him to lose all memory of his father, and what little he had of his mother. Their names, faces, everything was gone. To this day he tries to recall them, but he always fails. After the grueling ordeal was over, Harmon was given a recording device to see with and was sent to Fort Jacobs. He was enrolled in George Washington Elementary, and was cared for in the Onsite Residential District by an appointed foster parent and guardian. His school life was, to be blunt, awful. Other children feared and mocked him for his appearance, and teachers had a problem with his passive tampering with their phones and computers. After a while, they requested he be removed and educated elsewhere, ideally by his assigned guardian. The guardian was resentful of having to care for the boy full-time, but he was forced to put up with him nonetheless. After some time of neglect and mistreatment, the guardian was reassigned. Someone else would have been put in place to care for Harmon – had he not absconded back into the city during the night on the eve of his ninth birthday, escaping with the recording device they gave him, a sack full of extra batteries, some tools for grooming the metals in his head, and some food and water.
 
By then, Harmon was comparable to a frightened puppy. Dressed in an assortment of rags and a blanket, Harmon made his way back to the Dead End after studying a multitude of publicly displayed maps and hesitantly asking for directions, most of which he never received. After some weeks, he ended up back in the Leonard Housing Developments, finding the section where he was raised already occupied by a destitute family. Heartbroken, he ventured out into the downtrodden areas of the Dead End and, for better or worse, survived. For a time. After a week or so gone, NEST agents found Harmon and captured him, deeming him unfit for social interaction after his escape, and thus, sent him to a Box.
 
To this day, Harmon refuses to speak of what happened there.
 
After some time, Harmon was released from the Box after proving to be able to control his abilities and deemed responsible with them. Upon his release, NEST registered him under the monthly power assessment plan under a “manual retrieval term”. Given Harmon’s poor memory, he often forgets to attend his assessment. Thus, NEST agents come to bring him in and then release him back into the wild after making sure he’s behaving. They give him a complete plucking of his head-metals, which he finds unpleasant and unnecessary seeing as he is fully capable of doing it himself. They never listen.
 
After the assessments became routine and bearable, Harmon began doing his best to make a life for himself, however meager it may seem. He began hoarding phones, cameras, batteries, most any electrical devices he could scavenge from abandoned areas and gang hideouts. He avoided danger by sensing the phones in any potential assailants’ pockets and teleporting out of sight, which remains an effective tactic for him today. Harmon still doesn’t know if his caretakers went looking for him and failed, or if they disregarded him completely, but NEST hasn’t brought it up with him recently, figuring he is capable of caring for himself now anyway. Eventually, he reached a point of being able to sustain himself and, to this day, keeps up with his routine of venturing outside his current living quarters in the Joslyn House Motel, scavenging for food and equipment, coming back home, and then locking himself away from the dangers outside. Every month, NEST comes to bring him in and check up on him, let him go back outside, and the process starts all over again.
 
[b]Family:[/b] As far as Harmon knows, both of his parents are dead and gone. He has long stopped searching for his father.
 
[u][b]Relationships[/b][/u]

[b]Leonard Boggs | Good | Friend |[/b] “Helped… helped… good… helped… friend…”

[b]Blathnat “Sugar” Balore | Good | Friend |[/b] “Kind… kind… but… entity, looming, w̧͢a͢t͏̵ch́i̡͝n̢͘͝g̢,͟͢ ̴̕  C̴̴͞͏H̡̡̀A̷̷̢͢͠Ņ͘͠͞G̵I҉͠҉̷N҉̵G̀͜ ̷̵̵T͠H͏͝Í̴͘͢N҉̴̷̨͞G͏̡S̀͝.̧̢́͢.͏͠.͏̛͏”

[b]Henry Olin | Feared | NEST |[/b] "No… no… no… no… no…”

[b]Fred Macroshelys | Feared | NEST |[/b] “Bad… bad… bad…”
 
[u][b]Abilities[/b][/u]
 
[b]Power Class:[/b] Cerebral (5), Super-System (1), Power (1)
 
[b]Power:[/b] Harmon possesses two distinct powers, both playing into his biological makeup – specifically, the metal shards in his head. He can interact with any electronically powered devices by melding his consciousness with the electric current inside, and he can teleport varying distances through sheer perception and will.

Harmon’s first ability, in further detail, varies in strength and capability depending on the collective stage of growth the shards are in. He can sense the electric current in any appropriate device – cameras, phones, televisions, speakers, and many more – and manipulate the current to alter the mechanisms inside, allowing him to interact with the device in a variety of ways depending on its base functions. Anything with a monitor can act as a point of visual perspective for him, his most common usage of this power. He can also will any degree of imagery on a monitor system for others to see, though this also comes as an unwarranted occurrence sometimes, giving away his presence within the device if he is trying to remain covert and panics. With enough concentration, he can cause certain devices to malfunction or break down permanently. In the later stages of his growth cycle, he can even cause them to explode, or manipulate them to operate beyond their intended functions – monitors emitting blinding flashes of light, speakers blasting out static at over a hundred decibels, and other such potentially harmful happenings. Harmon’s secondary ability is being able to teleport himself, and anything or anyone he is in physical contact with at the time, across varying distances. This level of teleportation in particular does not involve travel through a separate dimension – meaning it’s instantaneous. Any direction Harmon can visually perceive, he can teleport to. The visual indicator of the act of teleporting is heralded by an array of static ripples and distortions across his body, and others’ as well if he’s bringing them with him.

[b]Weaknesses/Limitations/Drawbacks:[/b] As stated before, both of these abilities vary in effectiveness depending on the growth stage of the metal shards embedded in Harmon’s scalp. A fresh grooming means he is essentially powerless, incapable of doing more than seeing through a camera in his hands. However, the shards also carry with them a severe level of influence over Harmon’s mental stability and level of cognitive recollection. During the shards’ early stages, Harmon’s thought processes are disjointed and his memories are all blurred and unrecognizable. As the stages advance, Harmon passes through a period of relative stability and awareness, and then gradually shifts into a psychological down-state, becoming unresponsive to social stimuli and wandering aimlessly, losing control of his abilities. If this continues for much longer, he enters a comatose state, and the sheer force of the shards’ channeling causes his memories and psyche to further deteriorate permanently.

Alongside the shards’ description, Harmon also responds very negatively to magnetism which, when applied to his head, causes him intense pain. Electricity also stands as a serious danger, seeing as the shards are capable of conducting currents straight to his brain, endangering his life.

[b]Other:[/b] Harmon responds to static white noise positively, shifting into a docile state of mind for the duration the noise is played.
 
[b]Sample Post:[/b] "This is Addendum 1-A." A voice began. It was deep, and rough, like sandpaper. The lights in the room illuminating what was once the dark confines of the geometric and square box. "Subject is Harmon Rottlage, male, late teens in age." the voice continued. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, which I will require you to answer to the best of your ability." The voice instructed. "Once we are finished, we will move on to the next part of the examination. If you pass, you will be free to go."

Harmon merely cradled his head, not responding verbally.

"First question. Memory based. How did you commute from your place of residency to this location?"

Harmon shook his head, grunting softly. "Didn't..." He started, "Didn't... c̶o͝mm̷ut̀è... t-t-they came and carried me through the doors the halls this room..."

The voice was silent for a second, very slight movement and breathing could be heard on the other side of the intercom, as if the owner of the voice was recording what he had said by hand. "Next question. Two parts." It stated. "Where did they carry you from, and how long have you been there?"

Harmon's head lowered onto the table, still being held by his spindly fingers. "Dead... Dead... Dead End... month... here... m̷̛o͘͝nt̡͠h̢̧... H̸̨͡E̡͘͟͠R̡̧̡̛͞E̶̴̴͝͞..." Harmon's voice began to reverberate off the walls as he trailed off between the two words. He got up from the table, still cradling his head, nearly shouting, "Ḿ͡O̷̕̕͜͝N͟͝T̢͞H̶҉̨̛͞Ḩ̢́̕E͟R͡E̶̴̷M̸ỚN̶̡͏͟T̢̨͘͏̧H̕͢͜͠͡H̴͘҉E͏̸͝R̴̶͠͠͠E̢̨͜͡Ḿ҉̷͝O̷͢͟͝Ń͘͢T͏͏̡̕͠H̀͘͜͠͝H̶̸̢̛E͠͡͠Ŕ̨̡̨͡È̴́҉-̴̀͟҉̧"

There was more shuffling.

"I must ask you to calm yourself, otherwise the test will be discontinued." It stated. "Final question of Addendum 1-A, do you recall your family's name, and your own?"

Harmon was calm now, seated once again. He was slumped in his chair, his hood down. His head was shifting slightly, ripples surrounding it as he began to speak, breathing heavily between his words. "H̕-H͡a̛r҉.̕.̴.... Hmmmm... Harmon... Rrrr... R-R... Rott... Lage... Rottlage... Harmon... Rottlage..." He stopped there, only answering half the question.

The voice was silent for a few more moments before more shuffling could be heard. "Concluding Addendum 1-A. Beginning Addendum 1-B." it stated. Typing could be heard in the background, and a few seconds later the lights went dark, and when they came back on, three panels int he floor and arisen up, with guns trained upon him. Each one was a different color. Red, green, and blue respectively. "The guns are nonlethal." the voice stated. "Only one, the green, is loaded. It is currently loaded with airsoft pellets firing at 200FPS. Enough to hurt, but not enough to break skin." it continued. "This test requires you to short circuit the turret, and display any new potential developed in the past month in doing so." The voice finished. "You have thirty seconds to completely the task. Begin."

Harmon immediately ducked under the table and cradled himself, knees planted and forehead pressed against the metal floor. He made a sound comparable to a distorted scream before taking one long breath, and muttering to himself, "IdwelledinthekeepoftheunwaveringandtheomniscientwhereuponIsawhorrorthetruesthorror-"

"Twenty seconds."

"Thedarkenedcladchainedmetothewallsandfloorsandcielingsandboremewitnesstoakingdomofnospokentruthandnovisionoffreedom-"

"Ten seconds."

"IleftthathorridplaceandfellinafieldofsunflowerstwistedbythedreamsofadarkcanalinfestedwithsmilingchildrenandbrokenhyenaaaaaaaaAAAA
AAAAA͠A̸A̶̛A͜͏A̷A҉A̢͝AÀ͏͜A̷̵̕Á͜͞A͟͏A͠A̧̡̕͡͠A̢̨̕͟A҉̨̛͞A͡͞A̧̡͢͞A҉̶̡͜A̶̧A̢͞͝A̢̡̧̕͠A͞À̴̸͡A̸͏Á̧͜͏A̴͢͟͟͡A̵̷̡̕A҉͏Ą̷́͡A̴̡A͟͠-"

All three of the turrets began to twist and turn on their hinges, turning towards each other. The red and blue ones, clicks sounded from with their mechanisms. The green one fired off its airsoft rounds, bouncing off the hulls of the other two before all three of them began to emit sparks, flashes of yellow falling to the floor, small cracks and static currents resonating between them before, almost all at once, they lowered, inoperable. Harmon was still on the floor, now silent.

The lights shut off, and everything was silent for a moment. There wasn't even any shuffling from the voice. The intercom's current had been stopped. A few seconds later a door opened, revealing a monstrous creature who's outline was illuminated by the bright white lights that contrasted with the darkness inside the room.

"Diagnosis," he said, his huge reptilian body falling still for a split moment, releasing a deep breath. "One week of funded mental therapy, up to subject if it will be continued, with regulatory grooming." he stated. "But subject has passed examination, scoring 62 out of 100 total points." he stated, walking inside and leaving the door open to provide some light until the system rebooted. With one hulking arm he lifted the table and moved it away, and with the other gently looping his forarm underneath Harmon's armpit and gingerly picking him up. The creature knelt down on one knee to Harmon's height, and grabbed the meta by the shoulders, ever so lightly shaking him. "You passed, Harmon." He stated. "We're going to get you help."

"Don't..." He replied, breathing heavily, "Don't... pluck... don't..."

If he had eyes, he'd be sobbing.

"Dont worry. You wont feel a thing. I've got you. You're safe."

"Don't..." He trailed off, mumbling silently to himself.

The agent didn't respond, instead he rose to his feet, and slowly escorted Harmon out of the testing room, moving at the agent's pace and attempting to be as gentle as possible with him. They disappeared out of the room, into the bright white light, and took a left moving to god knows where in the NEST base.[/hider]