Name: Ester Julia Gardner
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Ester stands at a rough 5'8ft tall and weights 120lbs. She has long, brown curly hair the just reaches to the top of her waist, and has brown eyes and sandy skin. Esters usual attire would consist of jeans, a semi-formal shirt, shoes and horn rimmed glasses.
Superpower
Name of ability: Cryokinetic freezing
Description: Ester has the ability to lower the temperature enough to create a layering of ice that can spread. While not at affective as Cryokinesis, Freezing would still be proven tricky as an ability pitted against (If used correctly).
Level one abilities:
-Basic freezing of liquids.
-Be able to freeze objects in a rather thin layer of ice.
-Freezing of humans IS possible but difficult.
-Ice breath
Level three abilities:
-Much more advanced freezing.
-Granted to freeze over objects with a much sturdier layer of ice
-Can freeze humans much more easily.
-Cold Immunity
Level five abilities:
-Granted better immunity over colder temperatures
-Can turn specific body parts into condensed ice
-Instant Freezing
Weakness/drawback:
-If the temperature of an object or outside is above 35˚C freezing will not work as easily as it would
-Those who wield Pyrokinetic abilities could be almost impossible to defeat
-Heat based abilities in general
History: Born in the normal suburban life of Arizona, Ester Julia Gardner's life was rather ordinary, and a little bit boring. Ester grew up with the usual things a child could want; Friends, Family, and A Social Life. Nothing ever really struck Ester as interesting. Growing up, Ester obeyed by the rules. She did was she thought was right for herself, her friends and other people. Ester thought that obeying the rules made her feel better, and that it made other people feel better. Family wise, Ester's family was plain and ordinary. A Mom, A dad, and A younger brother too order around. After graduating from High school, Ester applied for 10 universities in hopes of getting accepted. After being denied in 5 and whitelisted in 2, Ester decided to attend The University of Arizona for a degree in child psychology. After 4 years of University, Ester achieved her goal and received her degree. After one year of College life, Ester gained a job as a child psychologist at 23. Really she wants to see her patients be happy, and strives to help them to said happiness.

The day before the bus ride: 'You sure you can make a week without me?' Ester asked the child in front of her. 'Yeah...' The child replied, holding his hands together in his lap. 'You've worked with Alfie before, haven't you?' Ester asked. 'Yes Ma'am. I have...' The child replied. Ester smiled. 'Look at you Zach.' She said 'You really grown since I saw you for the first time. And I really do believe you can work with Alfie.' Ester quickly checked her watch. 'Well, that's the end of our appointment...' She said. 'I'll see you the week after. And please let me know how it goes.' Ester said, standing up. After the two parted ways, Ester made her way to her old car and quickly sat down, checking her mirrors. Ester started her engine of her old pick up truck and drove off from the school. Soon, Ester stopped at a red light, and sat backed... And started to ponder about her life. 'You should get a boyfriend...' Ester thought to herself, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. 'John the Front desk guy's pretty cute...' She added 'But Lisa's prettier...' Ester chuckled a little bit and drove off as soon as the light turned green. (Hinting that she's a Bisexual/Possible Pansexual :D)

General Bio
Name:Patrick Anderson
Age:62
Gender:Male
Appearance: Pat stands at 5'10'' but is usually hunched over making him appear shorter. He weighs 150 pounds. He has deep wrinkles all over his face making him appear older than he actually is. His hear is a mix of gray and white and is kept quite short. He has a paler than normal skin tone. He commonly wears a sweater, usually of a darker color such as black, dark red, or dark green, with khakis, even in warm weather.

Superpower
Name of ability:Pain Manipulation
Description:Pat is able to cause any pain he feels to be felt by others. He can also (eventually) do this with other peoples pain as well. The pain is applied to the same part of the body Pat would feel it, so if Pat got shot in the arm, he could make other people feel as though they got shot in the arm. Range and efficiency or the ability increase with practice.
Level one abilities:Anyone within two or three feet of Pat will feel a lesser version of whatever pain he is feeling. This aura is uncontrollable and will only turn off if he is knocked unconscious, although with effort the radius can be reduced. With focus, he can make a single person feel an equal amount of pain he is currently feeling. At this level, the effect requires physical contact to have any real potency.
Level three abilities: Range is improved (although the effect is still severely weakened with distance) and the pain can be split among multiple people. Splitting also reduces efficiency significantly. Pat can turn the automatic pain aura off with little effort.
Level five abilities: Range and number of potential targets improved. (placeholder for something else)
Weakness/drawback: Until he gains true mastery of his power, it is fairly useless if he's not in any pain himself. It can not be used to kill in any way.

It is worth noting that there is a Pat's Power discussion on Titanpad that can be read if more info is needed. Some things still aren't finalized (such as what he gets (if anything) at level 5 but that's far enough away that it doesn't really matter)

History
Pat was a pretty average person in his early years. His parents were farmers and he lived in a rural community on the countryside. He was quiet and well behaved in school, earning above average but not stellar marks, and spent his free time helping out with the chores at home or playing outside with some of his friends. After high school, he decided to move to the city, hoping to find a better job than his small town could provide. Ironically, he ended up accidentally following in his father's footsteps by becoming a gardener for one of the parks in the city. The park was by far Pat's favorite part of the city, his rural origins causing him to vastly prefer the greens of the park to the greys of the urban landscape. The pay wasn't great, but it was enough to afford an apartment near his worksite as well as frequent nights out with some friends at the local bar. This continued for many years and Pat was content, if a little bit bored, with his lifestyle. Everything changed on the day of his first migraine.

It started out as a day like any other. Pat got out of bed, poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down to watch the news on TV. After a few minutes of watching television he started to feel a headache coming on, but Pat just attributed it to still being sleepy after waking up and continued watching television. In a few more minutes, Pat had a throbbing headache. Thinking he had the flu, Pat got up to go phone in sick for work but at that moment the full force of the migraine struck. The searing pain he felt race through his head caused Pat's legs to give out as he collapsed back onto the couch. Pat lay curled up on the couch, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to weather the storm but the pain continued. After almost an hour like this Pat decided he needed to get medical attention. He slowly got to his feet and staggered out of his apartment, where a neighbour found him and immediately called the ambulance. When Pat finally got to the hospital, the doctors gave him some painkillers, which dulled the pain a little, and told him the migraine should be gone within an hour. When the pain persisted they said it should be gone within the next few hours, then they said is should be gone by the end of the day. Six days of puzzled doctors and restless sleep later, the pain had finally faded away. The doctors explained it away as a freak migraine and that he should be fine to go back to work. Pat went back to work happily, joking about the experience with his coworkers and thought that the worst was behind him. Until two weeks later he had another one.

After that, Pat's time was nearly equally split between sitting in his house with the blinds drawn closed trying to get some sleep during a migraine and bouncing from puzzled doctor to puzzled doctor trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Each of the doctors would give him some knew drug to try, but the general consensus was no one knew what was causing the migraines. Over time, Pat became more and more closed off from the outside world. Unable to work, Pat lived off disability checks from the government and spent much of his time reading in his home or just sitting in the park. He had to take an obscene amount of pills every day to try and keep his pain under control. While the drugs dulled the pain and allowed Pat to preform most task during a migraine, they were a long way off from stopping it. Pat got more and more distant from his friends, unable to spend the time and energy necessary to keep the relationships going.

TL;DR: Pat gets terrible migraines and no one knows why. This has lead him to live a very isolated life, with him spending most of his time in his apartment or at the park.

The day before the bus ride: Day two of the migraine. "Day two is always the worst." Pat thought to himself. In reality he thought this two himself the first day of the migraine and would likely tell himself this everyday until it ended. Pat knew all this, but somehow saying that the this day was the worst helped him carry on through the day, made him think it would be better soon. Pat slowly walked down the sidewalk, his hand in the pockets of his coat as he went along. It was ten in the morning and the streets were fairly quiet, or at least as quiet as they get in New York City. Loud noises increased the effects of a migraine, so traveling when there isn't much traffic became second nature for Pat. As Pat walked along, he could hear the rattle of the pill bottle in his pocket, shaking with every step he took. "A lot of help they are," Pat thought as the sound of a car driving by causes lances of pain to rush through his head. In his other pocket was the book he was currently reading, a fantasy novel almost a thousand pages long, a thin bookmark placed near the middle of it. The book was the reason for Pat's trek that morning as he planned to read it in the nearby park that he used to work at. The fresh air of the park always did more to help his migraine then pills ever did and the prospect of sitting down on a bench and continuing his novel was enough to get Pat to increase his pace. He was still in fairly good shape for his age, and his near daily trips to the library and park contributed greatly to that. "Yup, day two is the worst," Pat thought again as another car drove by him. Pat hurried along, desperate to lose himself in the quiet of the park and words of his book.

General Bio
Name: Vida Curacio
Age: 25
Gender: Female

Appearance
She only stands about 5'3 and weighting roughly 110lbs. It is common to see her with her hair unkept and clothes wrinkly with cat fur. Though her looks give off a homeless feel she makes sure to bath every day, sometimes.



Common clothes. Doesn't own anything fancy.

Superpower
Name of ability: Rapid cell regeneration/degeneration
Description: The ability to heal herself and others rapidly. She can cause cells to regenerate to the point they age and die, her only special way of killing someone.

Level one abilities: Heals self effortlessly. Has to rely on transfusions or injections to heal others at first, clumsy working on healing others through skin to skin contact. She has no control over her ability when her emotions run wild.

Level three abilities: Able to heal others without effort through skin to skin. Can improve the muscle tissue of others to make them stronger for a short time. Can cause peoples cells to break down or grow out of control, best imagine of this would be cases of Necrosis.

Level five abilities: Has full control over being able to heal anyone and can target certain areas for concentrated healing. Since her cells are constantly repairing themselves as they are damaged her aging has slowed. She can kill by touching someone's skin if needed by causing them to age rapidly. Aging process depends on age and health of person effected. An average adult would take up to 5 minutes to kill.

Note: Her fighting ability acts much like Apoptosis, but in an extreme state. The result of her attacking someone seems to cross over to Necrosis, which is cell death due to trauma.



Weakness: Character is rather useless alone, mostly a support character. She won't die because of her healing, but she is easily contained and can be used as a living hospital if hooked up to a transfusion. Even though she heals fast she feels pain like a normal person and if the injury is server enough will lose consciousness. She also uses a lot of energy to heal herself and others, so she needs to consume a lot of food to replenish her supply.

Drawbacks: Causing someone else to age makes her own cells age at the contact point. Meaning her fingers or hands would wither with the person and decay. Depending on how far she goes with the aging progress she would have to recover or practically regrow her digits. Is very reserved about using this ability. Excessive use of healing caused her to become weak, such as she breaks down her fat reserves and muscles to use as fuel.

History
She was a drop out college student going from part-time to part-time to make ends meet. Her only family that she had in the city was her two cats that she had brought with her when she moved out of her parents house claiming she could live out of her own.

Her standoff personality didn't win her any friends like she had hoped when she moved. Instead she had a simple plan everyday. Wake up, eat, feed the cats, go to work, come home, eat and sleep.

Added Note: Vida suffers from a type of personality disorder. She is friendly enough that at first people wonder why she doesn't have ANY friends. After spending more time with her people start to notice something is off about her.

....and by off I mean this Rabbit is crazy

Day Before
"Vida wake up!" She heard her boss yell.

She had nodded off again that day, if this kept up she would be fired by the end of the week.

"I'm sorry.." She replied as she stood up from her slouched position against some boxes in the back.

"Sorry? You fell asleep when you had customers sitting in your section. They sat there for thirty minutes before someone complained that their waitress had disappeared!" He was furious with her. She could tell by the vein on his head that went *throb throb throb* with every word that he spoke. She stared at him as he yelled trying to think of what to say to him, but her head was blank. All she heard was his words echoing around. "Just go home." He finally said.

She didn't even bother to fight back. It was obvious that she should leave. If she stayed then even more mistakes would be made. "Yes, Sir."

Walking back to her apartment she reminded herself of all the hours that she had worked that day. She had pulled at double at her first job and worked only half a shift at her second. She counted about eighteen hours of work in one day. "I guess that was too much.." She grumbled to herself. She needed the extra money though to afford to buy herself some new shoes. The ones she was currently wearing were starting to get holes in the bottom.

Arriving at her apartment she opened the door and was instantly greeted by two cats that brushed against her legs and meowed for attention. "Hello Co-co Bear, Hello Baby." She greeted them with a yawn. Putting some food down for them she didn't even bother changing her clothes as she laid down in her bed. She reached over and set her alarm clock so that she wouldn't over sleep and pulled the covers over her head. One more day behind her.

Name: Christian "Chris" Tylers

Age: 19 (three months short of 20)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Christian stands at 5'10" with electric blue eyes that are fogged over due to his blindness.


History: Christian had a family once. A brother, sister, mother and father. No one could say his life was perfect but he didn't have it that bad, just another kid. That was until the car accident. Christian doesn't remember much of it. There was a Bryan Adams song playing on the radio and he was arguing with his brother Marcus over something trivial. There was a loud crash and the car crumpled sealing Christian in between the door and the front seat. It was agony, he couldn't see anything and there was something metal that had sliced into his leg. It was fifteen minutes before the paramedical showed up and another fifteen before they cut the car apart with the Jaws of Life and got Christian into an ambulance. He was sedated after that and when he woke up he was lying on a bed with metal handrails and uncomfortable sheets and he couldn't see anything. When the nurse realized that he was awake she told him that the crash had done some sever damage to Christian's optic nerve. There were a couple of procedures that could return his sight but they would have to wait a few months for the swelling to go down. Then Christian found out something that he never forgot. He was the lucky one. His father, brother and sister had all died instantly while his mother had flat lined after several hours in the ER. He was all alone. That was when he was seventeen. With no other family to speak of Christian was put into the foster care system. He spent his last two years of high school at a blind school learning brail and how to use a white cane. It was like he had to learn how to function all over again. Sometimes he felt like giving up. Was it really worth living like this? Then when it seemed like everything was lost Christian found his passion, music. He started to learn to play a variety of instruments including the piano, the guitar, the drums and the violin. When he turned eighteen and was to old to be in a foster home any more Christian moved into his own apartment. He began a small business teaching kids and adults to play on different instruments. At first people were hesitant to come to a blind man to learn something but eventually word spread about how good he was at it. Christian doesn't own a care, he can't really drive one after all and so he takes the bus to get anywhere he needs to go.

The day before the bus ride:
Christian got up from his seat on the bus. It wasn’t quite his stop yet but he liked to feel the forces of the bus buffeting him back and forth. He was of course used to it and held his balance with ease. “East Town Subway station.” stated the clear voice of the buses automated announcement system. Christian didn’t need to pull the cord. It was such a popular station that at least three other people would already have done it. Christian waited a couple of minutes before heading to the front of the bus. He liked to keep either ahead of or behind the crowd. It was enough that he could feel people staring at him, he didn't need people walking into him as well. The bus driver could see him standing at the rear of the bus; he’d have plenty of time to make his way off.

As Christian walked to the front he ran his hands along the headrests of each of the seats he past. Most of them were vacant by now. “Thanks for the ride.” Christian said as he hopped from the bus stairs to the worn pavement. “No problem,” the bus driver responded cheerfully “And if you need any help don’t hesitate to ask one of the subway technicians or another bus driver. We’re happy to help.” “Thanks,” Christian muttered as he disembarked. As helpful as the transit staff were Christian didn’t like it when people talked to him like he needed help with every little thing. He was blind not stupid but most people didn't see the difference. They saw his electric blue eyes, glassy and fogged and they all assumed that he need there help.

Christian reached up to the side of his backpack and unclipped the Long Cane that he used to detect objects in his path. There were several other types with varying lengths for different purposes but the one that Christian always kept with him was the most functional. The bus stop was Christian knew seven sidewalk slabs down from the subway system. Christian had taken to memorizing distances and times in order to get around because he didn’t like to use any of the traditional tools most people associated with blind people. Christian didn't want a guide dog, he felt like that was saying look at me. He didn’t wear shaded sun glasses, (though he didn’t actually need those). And Christian only grudgingly used any sort of White Cane. He walked one, two, three, four, five, six, seven slabs. Christian turned immediately to his right and walked three steps. He was greeted with a whoosh of air as the stations automatic doors opened spilling conditioned air out onto the street. He smiled, it was always gratifying to do something so simple that everyone else took for granted without any help.

The topside of the station was quiet. Christian could hear a couple off in the corner arguing over transit times but other than that it didn’t sound like there was anyone in the station. That was good. He didn't have a problem crowds. Most people got out of his way pretty quick but he could hear all of whispers from the people he passed. He didn't like it. The stairs he knew were eight steps in front then three to the left, there were thirteen of them leading down to the subway platform. He was just about to take that third step when he heard a voice from behind him. "Kid, kid, kids. What are ya doin'. Can't you see the stairs are wet? We just finished paving them." Christian let out a sigh before turning to the man whom he imagined to be wearing a hard hat and vest. As he turned he moved his Cane so that it was plainly visible. "Does it really look like I can see anything?" Christian asked the man with venom in his voice. Normally Christian was pleasant company but he absolutely hated it when people started a conversation with "Can you see". Off course he can't. It probably wasn't really fair to this construction worker. He was just doing his job.

"Sorry kid, I didn't know. The elevator is just over here if..." He trailed off not sure how Christian was going to follow him. Christian sighed again. "I can hear the sound of your work boots. Just walk me to the elevator." Christian imagined the man looking visibly uncomfortable but the steps started to move off to the side. Christian followed with ease moving his cane back and forth over the ground to make sure there was nothing in his way. Finally his can struck a wall with a metallic clang. The walls here were dry wall. This was the elevator. Christian paying no mind to the construction worker ran his hand over the wall till he found the down button. He pushed it and the door sung open with a sound. Christian walked inside and felt for the control panel. Each of the button numbers of inscribed with brail. Christian found the one that read B (Basement) and pressed it. The little metal box moved down slowly with many groans and clanks that Christian feared meant it would fall. Christian didn't like enclosed spaces. There was very little to feel and almost nothing to hear. It was the same reason he was afraid of water.

The doors finally slid open and Christian stepped out onto the platform. Moved his cane in front of him till it hit the bumpy yellow surface that marked the side of the platform. Here he waited. After five minutes Christian checked his watch. It wasn't anything fancy. The face flipped up to allow him to feel were the hands were and the cardinal numbers (12, 3, 6 , 9) Where marked with two dots while the others where marked with one. The train was five minutes late. He was going to be late for his lesson. Christian was a music teacher for a variety of different instruments that he loved to play and some of the people who hired him required that he go to there address to teach for whatever reason.

Finally off in the distance Christian heard the sound of the train tearing down the tunnel. Wind on the platform started to pick up and the train came into the station putting on the brakes at the last minute. When it had stopped Christian put his hand on the side of it and ran down till he found one of the doors. It was packed full but someone gave him there seat in the disabilities section. There weren't many perks to being blind but always getting a seat on public transit was one of them. The train took another ten minutes to get to his station. It was four stops away. When it stopped he used the wall of the station to help him get up the stairs and into the open sunlight. It felt good on his face. Like the station he'd gotten on at, the bus stop from right in front of the doors. After a bit of searching he found the poll and waited for the bus. It pulled up ten minutes later. He was defiantly late now. After confirming with the driver that he was on the right bus he showed the man his pass and used one of the polls running along the roof to guide him to the back where he took a seat.

Christian not for the first time in his life wished that he could see. The doctors had told him that there was almost no hope of his sight returning but still he dreamed about it. If only that crash hadn't taken everything away from him. Little did Christian know that another accident was about to give him exactly what he wanted. Just not in the way that he imagined it.

Superpower
Name of ability: Telekinesis
Description: Christian can manipulate objects in physical space. At it's most advanced level only achievable by some test subjects this could extend to manipulating an object down to the subatomic level.
Bear in mind that at each of these levels these are the abilities available not the ones that Christian has complete and utter control over.

Level 1 abilities:
Spatial Sense: To "see" one's surroundings using telekinesis. This is is a great deal of help to Christian without the use of his eyes but it comes and goes, sometimes being very specific while at others being to vague to be of use or absent completely.
Levitation: To lift an object, e.g. raising a pitcher several inches into the air.
Maneuver: Alter an object's directional course, e.g. changing what number a dice lands on or deflect an opponent attack.
Grip: Grasp an object firmly in place, e.g. hold back something thrown at the user
Pull/Push: Pull objects towards the user or to push objects away from the user, e.g. yanking a book off a shelf or sliding a cup across a table.

Level 3 abilities:
Ballistic Telekinesis: Where the user causes any nearby objects to be moved around the user at high speeds or to be propelled away from the user without conscious effort from the user of the power.
Flight: Use telekinesis to fly. (Extremely taxing on the user and not effective as a means of transport, eg wouldn't rival those with flying ability)
Choking: Strangle others from a distance.

Level 5 abilities:
Force Fields: Condense the air around oneself in order to make protective shields, e.g. deflecting bullets.
Weakness/drawback: When using his abilities his other senses become sensitive, loud noises could shake his concentration causing his ability to stop working or go haywire.

Basic Bio
Name: Callie Wright
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance:

I am your average American blonde. I have dazzling blue eyes and gorgeous golden locks. I wish I had perfect skin! Sadly my complexion is far from flawless, but I’ll never let you see what I look like without makeup. I shudder just thinking about it! The rest of me is passable. I am curvy in the right places and I am tall enough. Well tall enough that most people assume I’m an actress or a model.

You don’t need to be a model to have style! Few people acknowledge it though. It’s sad that they prefer staring at my face rather than paying attention to what I wear. I mean, come on! Won’t you be sad if I forget to compliment you today? Oh well! At least they smile back whenever I smile at them.

Superpower
Name of ability: Matter Transmutation
Description: Cal alters the structure of solids.

Level one abilities: Most of the time they become a soft, pliable substance. Heavier and denser objects take time to change. Her ability only works at touch-range.

Level three abilities: Light objects can be successfully transmuted. The new item would have the same density as the old one, e.g. producing an extremely large cotton ball from a bullet. Heavier, denser objects take a slightly shorter time to change, but they won't be fully transformed. The end result is often a soft, pliable substance with the colors of the intended object. Overall her ability is faster and her range has expanded. Her ability is most potent at touch-range.

Level five abilities: Now even medium weight objects can be transmuted successfully, but at a much slower rate compared to smaller objects. She may only be able to partially transform large heavy objects. It depends on the weight and density of the thing in question. For extremely heavy objects only the area within her touch-range is affected. By now her speed is such that small, less dense objects can be transformed almost instantaneously. Her range is approximately half of Jenna's effective range.

Weakness/drawback:

• The objects she produces have the same relative density as the original.
• Her speed is impacted by the number of objects she is focusing on. Even at Level 5 she struggles with three objects of any weight.
• High densities will always affect her speed.
• She can't seem to affect living material e.g. flesh. However at later levels, she can transmute dried hollow bones and wooden planks.
• She can create more complex objects at later levels, but how well they function depends on her knowledge of the actual mechanism.

History
Bio: As some of you may have guessed – I’m an air hostess! I have been working for American Airlines for the last three years, and I love every moment. The fun doesn’t stop there. During my downtime I am freelance choreographer. I help people design new cheer routines and occasionally new dance routines. I doubt I want to be a full time choreographer. It’s way too stressful! I just like talking to teenagers. I mean I was one till recently. Anyhow… I gotta run. Flying back to home in less than three hours. Gotta grab some candy on the way! xxx

The day before the bus ride:
Blonde hair fell over her eyes as Callie leaned forward. She counted silently under her breath as she held that position for several counts. She exhaled one final time before pulling up and lifted her arms into the air. Her legs drew together till she was sitting cross-legged with soles of both feet touching each other. She bent her right arm so that her hand reached slightly below her shoulder blades while her left hand held onto the elbow. She repeated the same movement with her left arm. Finally the young woman got up and walked over and held onto the handle of her cupboard door. She lifted her left leg up as her left hand grabbed onto her ankle.

“Cal! I’m going now. See you at dinner.”

“Okay, Jan!” She yelled back to her twin as she relaxed.

Whistling quietly, Cal twisted back and forth, and then she held onto the railing and lifted her right leg. She released her leg and then jogged on the spot for several minutes. Satisfied she grabbed her sneakers and headed out the door. A couple of red and silver fringed pompoms rolled off the shoe rack, but she ignored them. She slammed the door after her. Five minutes later she dashed back and threw the door open. Shoots! Jan would flip if she noticed that. Cal quickly grabbed her half eaten packet of m&ms from her bedside table. Her eyes fell on her lemon yellow digital alarm clock. 7:45 am. Two hours before she has to leave home too. Taking public transport was gonna be a pain. Pfff! Jan had totally forgotten about her car. God damn it! Hopefully the sour-faced grump of a coach would love her proposed choreographed cheer routine! If all goes well she would be meeting the squad tomorrow afternoon to teach them their new routine.

“Don’t be shitting me now. Come on! Where’s your fighting spirit?”

“Hey there, Georgie girl! Come give your big sis a hug!”

“Sugar cures everything. Throw away that Panadol and have skittles instead.”​

General Bio
Name: Jenna Baxter
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Jenna has an average build for someone that stands at a mere 5'1". Although one to wear cute attire, practicality and comfort is what is most important to her and is often found in jeans and simple shirt or a blouse with a matching pair of tennis shoes or flats.

Superpower
Name of ability: Magnetic Manipulation
Description: Jenna has the capabilities of moving and shaping metals that are able to be affected by magnets. Ever since the serum, a magnetic force has been created in her hands allowing to use her powers by pulling and pushing the metal she is concentrating on.

Level one abilities: Jenna is able to move small objects weighting at a max of ten pounds but any more than five pounds will require great focus and have the possibility of not working. She is able to alter and shape soft metals but causes a lot of strain and focus.

Level three abilities: Jenna can move metal up to half of what she can physically hold and able to alter the shape of soft metals at ease. She is able to alter denser and harder metals but without much success. Able to gain control over one of her weaknesses, Jenna can use her magnetism to willingly cause electronic disruption in objects such as surveillance cameras and the likes but only with direct physical contact.

Level five abilities: Jenna can move metal up to what she can physically hold and able to control up to two different objects (one for each hand) with ease. She can shape nearly any type of metal but is unable to change the given properties and traits of the metal she is manipulating. Her capability to cause electronic disruption has moved to a range of up to ten feet.

Weakness/drawback: Jenna is unable to use most technology until she is able to restrain her magnetic force while using the object and even then she has to keep a steady concentration to make sure she doesn’t slip up. Strong magnets can interfere with her powers and is completely powerless against any metals not affected by magnets. Due to the magnetic force within her body, she is not able to absorb iron as well as normal people especially during prolonged use of her powers which causes anemia if she isn’t watchful of her iron levels

History
Bio: Born and raised in central Florida, Jenna lived an average, upper middle class life with both her parents and a younger brother. Upon graduating from high school with decent grades, Jenna decided to move north to New York to experience life in the big city while in college, something she has been planning ever since she was young with her best friend. After spending two years living in a dorm and working at a coffee shop, Jenna moved into a small apartment a few miles away from the school and has been living there since. Enjoying life in New York, Jenna decided to stay instead of moving back to Florida. Although she hasn’t found a job as a full-time teacher with her degree, she has been working as a substitute teacher for the last year with a promising chance of being a teacher next year after a recent interview.

The day before the bus ride: A small smile crept on Jenna’s lips as she looked through the storefront window at the litter of puppies being displayed. Ever since she moved to New York, having a dog was one things she missed. The apartment she was living in had many strict rules and she often debated about moving out and living in a place which was more dog friendly but she knew that it would be unwise until she had a steady teaching job. As she normally was, Jenna was optimistic and had a good feeling that the interview she was in yesterday went well and that she would soon be on her way to fulfilling her goals.

With a small sigh, Jenna started to head down the street knowing that she didn't have much time to waste today. A small group of friends were meeting at her house in a few hours for dinner and she still didn't have the items necessary for dinner. “Crap." Jenna mumbled to herself as she reached in her pocket and realized that she forgot her shopping list at home. Mentally chastised herself for being so careless yet again, Jenna pulled her phone out to check the time. Frustration overwhelmed her as she shoved her phone back in her pocket knowing far too well that she wouldn’t have enough time to run back home to get the list. Hoping that her memory is good enough to remember all that she needed, Jenna headed into the store and quickly grabbed the materials for the tacos her and her friends were going to eat before making her way to the checkout line, the worst part of shopping in her opinion. Waiting impatiently as the checkout, Jenna was glad when she was finally able to leave the store.

“Procrastinating again?” A familiar voice said in a jokingly as Jenna reached the street her apartment was on.

“Can it Emma or I won’t procrastinate canning you.” Jenna said with a slight smirk as she handed a few of her grocery bags to her friend. “You’re a bit early aren’t you?” Jenna said after unlocking and opening the door for Emma.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to eating on time this time around so I came to help you out.” Emma jested as she placed the bags of groceries on Jenna’s table. “I can start to cook the meat if you want to prepare everything else.”

“You have to be kidding me!” Jenna exclaimed as dropped her groceries onto the table and rummaged through the bags.

“Forgot something?” Emma asked as she watched Jenna with folded arms.

“Yeah, I’m thinking we’re going to have vegetarian tacos tonight. I forgot the meat.”

General Bio
Current Name: Jack Skidder (?)
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance: The character works out regularly enough to keep himself in shape. He's not buff, but he's not flabby, either, standing 6 feet tall

Superpower
Name of ability: Third Option
Description: In any system there are always binary decision points where taking one action causes specific negative effects, and taking an opposite action causes others. Third Option allows one to see where those negative effects can be lessened or eliminated. Or where they can be amplified.

Jack Skidder has the ability to "see" (more like "sense") the correct path to take based on intuition and informational input, but the sources of his information are not always clear. He perceives the ability as if looking into a spiderweb of possibilities and knowing which chord to pluck.

But in the back of his mind there's always the anxiety that he'll get it wrong. He knows he can't afford to, but he can't remember why....

(Each level of ability may manifest a different perceptual point of view, but what's most important in this ability are the downsides.

Level One: After using his ability, Jack suffers a mental blankout that lasts for a short number of seconds.

Level Three: The blanks become more like Swiss cheese to his perceptions, not just causing a general blank, but affecting vision, hearing, speech, movement, and/or other physical abilities in a random (and seemingly unpredictable) manner.

Level Five: Jack will be able to intuit information from multiple sources around him (like brief psychic flashes where he seems to be reading bits of everyone else's minds, but only tiny glimpses into others' thought processes - not telepathy), but he may cause some level of brief dysfunction in others.

As time goes on, Jack fears he may need to be isolated, and he is afraid he will have to spend most of his time alone.

We will find out that Jack has amnesia of a sort. All the memories are there, but they have been externally blocked. In high stress situations, he'll flash back and the memory will cause him to be indecisive, irrational, or just flat out wrong. He doesn't remember having amnesia. (No joke intended.) Things seem like they're going just fine. It's in some way like trying to remember what happened when one was drunk.


Combat had taught him to sleep lightly.

The nearby bushes brushed against some sort of body doing its best to sneak up on the foxhole where he and his buddy were dug in. They seemed to be laughing and he swore he could hear glass bottles clanking. He tried not to breathe, not only to feel invisible, but because the his uniform reeked of mold.

At the dusky edge of consciousness he heard a diesel engine's transmission ramping up in an effort to move some huge mass, likely a tank. And it was getting closer.

His brain screamed “DO SOMETHING”.

The buddy he was sharing this pit with was asleep, and though he wanted to shake the man awake, his hands didn't move.

The truck/tank/whatever-it-was would be on top of them in seconds.

As desperation seized him, he realized he had a grenade in his hand, ready to lob at the oncoming monster. Suddenly, it was flying and exploded as it hit the vehicle.

He woke up.

Lying on the ground, trying not to focus on muscles that were cold and stiff—again--he looked up at the sky. His fuzzy brain slowly realized that he'd been woken by some sort of car crash.

Crumbling asphalt near a barely used dumpster wasn't the most comfortable mattress, and empty cardboard boxes didn't make the greatest pillows, but he'd slept worse places. He didn't get hassled much by the cops in this skid row alley he called “home”. It gave him a chance to meet the homeless. Many were families who'd gotten booted when they missed a rent or mortgage payment. Some were mentally unstable, but beyond their Tourette's outbursts and a healthy dose of paranoia were generally harmless.

And there were a damn sight too many who were merely tossed aside after they went to serve with their Uncle Sam. Some had found home and gang life to be dead ends. Some believed the lies of glory until they encountered real bullets and “Stop Loss” protocols.

They'd gone from broken homes to broken promises. They'd been stripped of purpose. And now they didn't trust much of anyone.

But they trusted him.

He'd shown some how to stop feeling sorry for themselves and rebuild lives that had essentially imploded. He'd shown them how serving each other could help save them all. He'd built a tight knit group of people who looked out for each other and would one day breathe life again into their little corner of society.

He hoped.

And he hoped he'd never need to use them for an unspeakable end.

For now, though, he wasn't so worried.

Well, not about that.

He was more worried about the phone call he'd received yesterday.

Being somewhat traditional, he'd set his ringtone to a standard telephone ring. Many people were amused that his phone actually sounded like a phone, and not something from some noisy and untalented “music” hack.

“Hello,” he'd said as he answered it.

The reply was three words he knew were coming, and wasn't sure he wanted to hear. “Pull the pin.”

The connection ended and he hung up.

He'd been activated, and it gave him a feeling of anxiety, as though someone were slowly squeezing his stomach.

It wasn't himself he was worried about. It was his friend, Al, who slept only a few yards away on a slightly less crumbled piece of alley.

He'd moved swiftly, almost gliding, to the end of that alley and grabbed a copy of one of the free newspapers sheltered in an orange plastic bin. It was sitting just outside the liquor store.

He'd taken a deep breath and looked at the blinking OPEN sign. He wondered how Al would get along while he was gone. Alcohol gave Al some comfort from the demons that had infected him during his second tour. (Some people had called him Al Coholic. It was a cheap and adolescent joke. If only they'd known.)

Ambling back down the alley, he opened the paper to the section that had rooms for rent, and found the ad he was looking for:

Seeking single occupant for a room in a local cooperative.

Rent reasonable.

Call today.

DoD Property Management

He pulled his phone from one pocket and dialed the number. From another he pulled a pack of Marlboro 27s and a lighter and started to smoke.

“Hello?....Yes, I'm calling about the room....College age residents?....No, I don't mind that....No, I don't smoke (He flicked the cigarette away)....Tomorrow?...For dinner?....About 7? Sure I can make it. My schedule looks pretty open....OK....Yup....Yup....See you then....My name?”

He needed a name. Something regular....Joe? John? Too plain. How about....

“Jack”

And right in the middle of skid row....

“Jack Skidder....See you tomorrow.”

And now that it had indeed become “tomorrow”, he needed to make one more call.

Ring....Ring....Ring....Ri--”Charlie? I need your help.”