[hider=Quinton Hayes]Name: Quinton Hayes
Alias: None.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Hero.
Image: [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/df/83/fa/df83fa0712874f8e6b11255833a8f19e.jpg[/img]
Written Description: Typically in a tanktop, jeans (may vary in color), and steel toe boots.

Power Set (only one power per character): Cyrokinesis: One who can generate and utilize ice in a variety of ways. Above 212 celsius, his ice begins to melt. Extreme weakness to heat.

Background story: Southside of Chicago, Cabrini Green Projects, 2019. 8pm.

	A black Honda Accord halts its advance along the curb; Hayes walks alone to the store, "Be home by 9:30, boy! No later!" his mother's incessant imperative rang through his head. Warm summer air swept soft overhead, the compact heat of a Chicago summer relaxes one's soul--or harpoons it with hatred. Streetlights were lit the sidewalk, though they offered no proper visual aid for anyone trying to make it to their destination with any semblance of punctuality, and the Accord's headlights blended all too well. Car doors jut open.

"'Q!" called Sonya, a young Hispanic girl with pink barretes, she rode a pink Hasbro tricycle without training wheels. She'd grow up to become an independent woman. Andre smiles at her as she offers him the remnants of her red sucker--

[i]Bang, bang, bang.[/i]

	Protocol. Quinton dives atop his young friend and covers her; gang related shootings were all too common on the southside, and the gang violence had become tradition, one kids like Quinton and Sonya had come to know all too well. Quinton had been on the wrong end of several shootouts even this early in life, but this time was different. He wasn't with the older kids from the neighborhood--he couldn't rely on them to shoot back. All he could do is pray, and praying ain't known to stop no bullets. Quinton closed his eyes and prayed, just as his grandmother taught him--the deafening blare of the gunshots died suddenly, a raspy voice commands amidst the growing silence, "Come on, nigga, let's go!" Whoever they were, they were satisfied with their work.

	But their work was unfinished. Screams pierced the air as arrows to a bullseye. Quinton heaved inward--wait, what? [i]I'm alive?[/i] The bullets were encased in ice, frozen solid in mid-air. He was dumbfoundead with  shock, fear, awe; what is this? All he knew was that he was alive, and so was Sonya. Quinton stood up and snatched Sonya in his arms and smiled. Something monumental had happened, and he knew he had to tell someone. He sprinted home. "Ma, MA!"

Southside of Chicago, Cabrini Green Projects, 2028.

	In the intervening years, Quinton had become a hero throughout his neighborhood, gang related violence and shootings in and around the Cabrini-Green housing projects plummeted to nigh-nothing. He had become a local legend and had attracted many friends--and enemies. And then the aliens came. One by one, "the Plague" decimated the Hero and Villain population alike. Even some of Quinton's closest powered friends met swift ends. He was lucky he had survived. Or so he thought; Cabrini-Green had several "mysterious sightings" in the days leading up to the invasion, and as one of the few powered individuals left, it was Hayes' duty to defend his neighborhood. Doom loomed, and eventually the aliens descended on the projects with unbridled force; Briggs fought with valiance, but it was futile. He was captured like the rest of the remaining powereds.


Nemesis (the alias and username):

Nemesis's story (how did they meet ? who won ? etc. This should be coordinated with the player that is your nemesis):

(If you need me to add more to his backstory, I will.)

[@Timemaster][/hider]