[hider=Emmerich Belle]
[u][b]Basic Information[/b][/u]

[b]Name:[/b] 
[INDENT]Emmerich Pierre Belle[/INDENT]
[b]Nickname/Alias/Etc:[/b] 
[INDENT]Emery[/INDENT]
[b]Gender:[/b] 
[INDENT]Male[/INDENT]
[b]Age:[/b] 
[INDENT]Twenty[/INDENT]
[b]Height:[/b] 
[INDENT]6' 2"[/INDENT]
[b]Weight:[/b] 
[INDENT]190[/INDENT]
[b]Type:[/b] 
[INDENT]New Student[/INDENT]

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

[b]Hair Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Black[/INDENT] 
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Pale green/blue[/INDENT] 
[b]Ethnicity:[/b]
[INDENT]French Canadian of African descent[/INDENT] 
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b]

[INDENT][hider][img]https://40.media.tumblr.com/138362f790024f041258a235c1c3319d/tumblr_n0orjcrR5c1rb5vl8o1_540.jpg[/img][/hider]
Black hair, usually cut short crudely by one of the clones, connects to a neatly trimmed full beard that hides a pleasing jawline. A permanent set of shallow wrinkles adorn his brow, a result of the intense concentration required to do use his power. Between the inviting greenish eyes is settled a straight, small nose, with full lips hovering just under that. He is admittedly self conscious about his smile, and generally won't smile with his teeth as they are notably crooked. The man is certainly conventionally attractive; at 6'2" with what could be described as a functionally fit frame. Well chiseled and not quite excessively bulky. He has a pretty mean case of what some refer to as resting bitch face, but when approached or engaged he is animated and lively. Unless he's split, in which case he's mildly cooperative at best. Processing the world from multiple perspectives is taxing and requires focus, so social interactions and general mannerisms find themselves to be a lesser priority. A lack of full substance is evident in his interactions and generally accompanied by more bitch face or a blank stare.[/INDENT] 
[b]Attire:[/b] 
[INDENT]Emery's sense of style is varied. While on set he has worn everything from ridiculous costumes to professional attire. However, when he has a say in what he'll wear, it normally consists of a skater/grunge look; stylish hoodies, jeans that aren't too tight or too baggy and may or may not have a hole in them, and any shoes with good grip.[/INDENT]

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

[b]Innate & Outward Personality:[/b]
[INDENT]Emery is driven, serious, and observant. He possesses an above average intellect, not approaching genius level, but certainly greater than the general populace. His relations with coworkers and friends from highschool could be described as mostly distant or forced, largely in part to most of his interaction with them being while he's replicated. Many people have found him to be an intensely shallow character, but those that have known him recent years know him to be charmingly dynamic. It truly depends on how split up he is.

He is a very thoughtful person. In both senses of the word I'd hazard. He engages in high risk activities, not only for the fun (because he certainly does enjoy them) or the training, but because when your life is on the line, you can't afford to think of anything else. When it's just you and your opponent, focusing on anything but the task at hand can cost you everything. But overthinking, isn't something he can always escape. He considers the state of the world, countries, the people in it. The reality of coexistence that others fail to comprehend. Able to see multiple perspectives from a literal standpoint, Emmerich understands better than most how an individual's actions can affect another. Because of this, and perhaps a strong moral background, he tends to be compassionate and sympathetic towards others. If he sees a person in need of help, he'll generally stop what he's doing and take care of them as best he can. The caretaker is a role he tends to take naturally, but to maintain that role presents troubles if he's split. To even attempt to offer half the  support to someone who depends on him than what their accustomed would be entirely unfair. He knows, because it has cost him a relationship or two already.

Being very open minded, many of Emery's viewpoints are liberal. He doesn't believe that strong morals stem from a need for a higher power, but instead that you can be a good person of your own accord. In his opinion, the only truly immoral acts are those that intentionally negatively impact others. Now, in no means is he a pacifist. Bigotry, oppression, outright manipulation. These are the things that make his blood boil. He finds it near impossible to respect anyone who feels that the only way for them to rise to success is to bring others down in the process.

He's actually pretty materialistic, but it may stem from the fact that he often needs more than one of something while he's split; another laptop, another cellphone, another car... The list goes on to maintain any sort of convenience, and maybe as a result he tends to want a lot things in his life.[/INDENT] 
[b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b]
[INDENT]Emery is a very active guy; dancing, hiking, climbing, sky diving, swimming, paintball, you name it. If there's an adrenaline junkie stigma attached to the activity, it's a safe bet that he has participated or plans to participate in it. He enjoys reading very much, particularly sci-fi novels. Surprise, surprise, he just so happens to love fast cars and motorcycles.[/INDENT]
[b]Skills/Talents:[/b] 
[INDENT]Driving, freerunning/parkour, advanced martial arts. He has all the consistent trademarks any great stuntman should and he's a magnificent cook to boot. He speaks French and English, though both are accented.[/INDENT]
[b]Prized Possession:[/b]
[INDENT]A copy of a new action film he played in named Beacon.[/INDENT] 
[b]Quote(s):[/b] 
[INDENT] "... sorry. I wasn't really all there."
"No one should feel the need to dim the light of others in order to shine themselves."[/INDENT]
[b]History/Bio:[/b]
[INDENT]Emery's early life was mostly uneventful. The third of four children, he was born into a shitty, run down neighborhood that his parents had settled in. Sirens and gunshots were regular ambiance and without the upstairs neighbors partying long into the night, it just didn't feel like home. Before his second birthday, his parents either decided they were too good for that lifestyle or their children were. They heaved the kids and what little they had to a slightly less trashy area in a whole new state. Over the next decade, his mother juggled nursing school, a night job, and an afternoon daycare while his father worked with computers and watched the kids around her schedule. It was a hectic lifestyle that they were too young to manage, yet miraculously they did, though not without a few setbacks. Emery's oldest sibling was fairly well behaved and even tempered. With a four year age difference she quickly became responsible for what her parents couldn't be. The second eldest yearned for his parent's attention, far too young to comprehend the immense sacrifices his parents were making to provide for them. He acted out regularly and a cycle of atrocious behavior formed that carried on well into his adult life. Emery on the other hand was quiet and withdrawn. Intensely introverted, he spent more time in his own head than he did interacting with others. More times than not, he was entirely forgotten at home. Family and friends could visit for days and neither see nor hear a sign of him. The only time he seemed to take interest in those outside his immediate family was if he had a question that they would have an answer to. At school things were relatively the same. The other children flocked to his brother, the rebel, but neglected to even acknowledge Emery, so he simply avoided them. Teachers though, found themselves increasingly invested in his budding mind. His voracious curiosity and appetite for knowledge, coupled with an impressive ability to process and understand information often left them stunned. Letters were sent home constantly advising his parents to appeal for early advancements, but the pair never found the time and arrangements were never made. It was then that he faced his first of many bouts with anger.

By the time Emery had entered middle school, his family had moved six times, each new home a small bit larger, each new town a small bit nicer. Their final move landed them in America. His mother, a full fledged registered nurse now worked privately with children with special needs while his father taught at a local university. Finally, they had settled down, but the unfamiliarity of actual stability was jarring to Emery and he felt overwhelmed with frustration. He expressed it aggressively, often returning from school with bruised knuckles and black eyes. Rather than undergo the costly and lengthy process of therapy sessions, his parents opted to join a local church. They had hoped that the religious community might help to mold their children in ways they could not, and in many ways they were right. It instilled a strong moral code within Emery and gave him composure and patience that carried into his later life. Still, the ever curious, thoughtful mind of his whirred with more questions than answers. How could a god that loves all his creation leave them to their own devices to corrupt and destroy what he loves? Why would he choose to watch over and guide a family like his and not one of the poverty stricken, war torn, starving nations of the world? How could an all powerful, all knowing being sit idly by as bigoted politicians with their own selfish agendas guided the world without all the facts? He found issue at every turn, becoming increasingly disgusted with a religion that could worship such an uninterested "god" and any who might claim it as their own. 

Soon the anger was back, but more sour and brooding. He felt defeated. And the only ones he felt he could talk to, his parents, followed their faith so blindly they wouldn't acknowledge a hint of worth in his issue. The cognitive dissonance he felt at such a young age presented something of an existential crisis that he wasn't quite sure how to bear. Deflated, devalued, and altogether alone Emery's dismay culminated in a suicide attempt. He found himself standing high above the city, looking down at the busy street below from his position at the edge of rooftop. His self isolation left him with no friends to speak of and from his perspective, no one could possibly careless about his life, or death for that matter. His existence seemed a moot point in a sea inconsequential events. As he stood there shuddering from weak sobs, a familiar voice called from behind him; his own. What happened next began a gradual recovery. His realization that he was a metahuman somehow gave him new purpose, new drive. The ability lent itself to learning, allowing him to tackle multiple challenges at once, which in turn opened more and more opportunities.

By graduation he'd been working two jobs simultaneously, though he left both to begin a career as a professional stuntman. In the two years since he's last used his powers, Emmerich has moved to Hollywood and developed quite a successful start to his career. He's made sure that life without powers is manageable, though he can see many practical uses of his power that he'd rather enjoy. Getting registered will allow those uses to be explored, so it's only the next logical step.[/INDENT] 
[b]Family:[/b] 
[INDENT]Pierre Belle- Father (distant)
Claudette Belle- Mother (distant)
Evelyn Belle- Sister (distant)
Marc Belle- Brother (distant)
Laurie Belle- Sister (distant)[/INDENT]

[u][b]Relationships[/b][/u]
None yet.

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

[b]Power Class:[/b]
[INDENT]Super System[/INDENT] 
[b]Power:[/b] 
[INDENT]Self replication. A fairly straightforward ability, Emery is able to, with much concentration, manifest physical copies of himself.[/INDENT]
[b]Limits/Weaknesses:[/b]
[INDENT]Splitting consciousness is a strange game. While he can absorb information and retain skills through his clones, the returns are always watered down proportionately. For example, if clone 1 were reading a book on mechanics, and clone two a book on beekeeping, approximately 33% of the information either of them digested would be retained.
Creating more than one clone at any given time stretches the available energies in a way that reduces their strength along with his by similar proportions as seen above.
While Emmerich is able to perceive and act through as many clones as he's produced at once, the consciousness isn't shared. They don't think the same thoughts as one collective hive mind. Because of this, unless a form of communication is maintained, the only time information is passed from one clone to another is when they assimilate.
Clones come into the world naked and return in a similar manner, so spare clothing and some privacy are usually preferred before getting started.
Clones can't assimilate with other clones; they must all return to the original.
The process itself isn't a quick one and can take anywhere from 10-20 minutes per replication.
The assimilation process takes just as long and he must maintain physical contact with the replication the entire time.
Because the clones are direct extensions of Emery's body, any injury sustained to a clone, returns to Emery upon assimilation. The death of a clone, while it has never occurred, would prove extremely detrimental to Emery's health; much like a major organ failure.
In short, Emmerich is at his most vulnerable when he actually uses his power.[/INDENT]
[b]Future Abilities:[/b]
[indent]In time, the replications won't have to look exactly like Emery. The ability will grow to allow duplication of others, though physical contact will have to be maintained still, and replications of younger and older versions of himself.
The limit on how many clones he can create at once without adverse effects will become more lenient.
Replications can be instantaneous and with whatever clothing the target (himself or another person) is using.[/indent]

[b][u]Other:[/u][/b] 
[INDENT]NEST ID: #74632-MRE-CA[/INDENT]

[b][u]Sample Post:[/u][/b]
[INDENT]Scattered sunlight pressed into the dark room from boarded up windows as a man hobbled toward an exit, frantically looking over his shoulder as he went. A piercing scream reached his ears from elsewhere in the building that stopped him in his tracks. He clutched tightly to the pistol in his hand, sweaty palms slicking the grip. Heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate sounded from a nearby corridor. The man brought his gun up in fear, shakily swinging it towards the door on the other side. His other hand wipes at his brow, desperate to keep the sweat from his eyes as he backs towards the exit. Suddenly a body crashes through the drywall to his right and lies there unconscious. "Listen, listen!" The man pleads, tears forming in his eyes. "We ain't mean to hurt them girls! It's just busin-!" His words are cut short as a knife speeds through the air, embedding itself in his arm. The gun slips from his grip and clatters to the floor as he groans in pain, clutching at his arm. Before he has the chance to reach for the gun, a tall figure erupts from the hole in the wall with a diving roll. He finds his footing and races toward the bleeding man, spinning into the air and twisting a boot into the man's jaw. The filtered lighting shows just enough of the scene to catch the blood splatter from the force. The tall figure lands gracefully, twisting into a spinning back kick that catches the man in the chest before he's finished reeling from the first. The figure takes a step closer, but the other man is already out cold. "Don't worry." The words come from a deep, gruff voice. "This is just business too." A gloved hand grasps the gun and fires it into the two unconscious men's heads. The flash from the handgun contrasts against the dark room and as he dashes towards a table, leaps atop it, then leaps through a high window, flipping into a soft landing below.

Outside a car awaits him. Sirens blare in the background, quickly approaching. As he enters the driver side a phone call comes in. "It's done." The car starts and immediately peels out, spewing pebbles from the gravel road beneath the tires. "Good. We'll be transferring the funds into your account shortly. We appreciate your service." A woman's voice replied, abruptly hanging up afterwards. The sirens closed in, just as the car skidded onto the service road along the highway. He floored it, quickly shifting into fifth gear as the squad cars quickly appeared in the rear view. Swinging the speeding vehicle into a sharp turn was no small feat, but he did so with incredible precision and impeccable timing, narrowly avoiding an approaching SUV. The police just behind him weren't nearly as quick and collided into the incoming vehicle. Only two officers managed to maneuver around the wreck as others plowed into the growing mass of carnage. A wicked smile spread across the driver's face underneath a skull mask that cut off at the nose. He stared directly into the faces of drivers and their passengers as he weaved his vehicle through the incoming traffic on a highway. The sirens blaring behind him causing some vehicles to clear a path, while only inducing panic in others. In another moment he caught sight of a hill beside the median, that he immediately veered towards. The cops began falling behind as they worked to dodge the traffic, but he pressed forward without slowing. A helicopter swung into view, following the chase intently. Without a moment's hesitation, the driver sent his vehicle over the hill, leaping from it at the peak of the jump. For a few moments he was unsure if his gamble was worth it, but it turned out to be as a hand reaching from the chopper caught his. Another slick smirk surfaced on the man's face, as he was pulled inside. "We did it."

The scene faded to black as the helicopter pulled away into the skyline and credits rolled. The next few moments felt uncomfortably silent as Emmerich looked around, gauging the crowd's reaction. It was the first time he'd had a major acting role in a film and he wasn't sure how it'd be received. His personal fan base seemed intrigued by the idea and mostly supportive, but his acting skills had never been put to the test like this. To be fair, his part in the film focused more on the combat and explosions; the exciting life of a super secret spy, but it was the most screen time he'd ever received. His breath caught in his chest as the moviegoers broke into applause, whistling and whooping. He heard people excitedly gushing about the ending. A last plot twist in which his character killed the main character, effectively leaving them to wonder how the sequel would continue from here.[/INDENT] 
[/hider]