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[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95Q24pHiBmA][h3][I]M I K A E L  S M I T H [/I][/h3][/url][/center]

[center][i]I always wanted to be a hero..[/i][/center]
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[B]|   B I R T H N A M E:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]Mikael Zachariah Smith[/INDENT][/INDENT]

[B]|   N I C K N A M E ( S ):   |[/B][
[INDENT] Mike, Zach, Neo.[/INDENT]

[B]|   A L I A S ( E S ):   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]Dark Messiah[/INDENT][/INDENT]

[B]|   S E X:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]Male[/INDENT][/INDENT]

[B]|   A G E:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]28[/INDENT][/INDENT]

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[center][i]But, not like a hero that faces danger and risks their own life everyday.[/i][/center]

[B]|   A P P E A R A N C E:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]Mikael stands at a rather tall 6'5, and weighs just under 200 pounds. He's sporting an athletic build and rather wide shoulders. He carries a fair amount of swagger on his step, yet he's often dragging behind. These days due to fear, but in the past due to drunken disorientation. He is never seen without a cross hanging from his neck in a leather strap. He's got several tattoo's on his arms, shoulders, chest and neck, all of which with some type of religious overtones. He's usually seen dressing in long sleeve shirts, often with a leather or jean jacket on top, or a flannel shirt. He does not wear anything but jeans for pants, and more often than not that they're ripped or otherwise heavily worn. He does not have an outfit for the field yet.  [/INDENT][/INDENT]

[B]|   P E R S O N A L I T Y:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]Cynical,, sarcastic, emotionally scarred, insecure, cocky, aloof and a general 'I don't give a fuck' attitude. He's in this JLU business for his own gain, not to do good, he doesn't believe he can do good, not anymore. [/INDENT][/INDENT]

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[center][i]More like Justin Bieber or Brad Pitt or Katy Perry, y'know? I'd wanna do nothing and still be called a hero just because people adored what I did. [/i][/center]
[B]|   A B I L I T I E S:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]
NEW GOD DNA:
Mikael has been inflicted with the DNA of the Gods of New Genesis, and it wasn't from one of the nice ones, but the DNA of possibly the most evil being in the entire universe (Or, at least this universe.), the Overlord of Apokalips, Darkseid. Unlike Darkseid's son, Orion, Mikael shares his connection to the Omega Effect and it fuels his ever growing power. It's been some months since Miakel contracted the blood of Darkseid, and has since already developed enhanced durability and physical features. He heals faster and he can get hit a lot harder, surviving getting hit by a train with no severe injuries, only a couple of broken bones. According to Batman's tests, Mikael has already just about stopped aging. 

GROWING POWER: Not even a year has passed since Mikael's life changed, and he's growing more powerful by the day, more and more power pumping into his veins, and his body is slowly but surely changing to be more like that of his patron, Darkseid, with no signs of slowing down. With the increase in his powers, comes the increase in his connection to the Omega Effect, a well of power previously only tapped into by the God himself. And with it, his connection to Darkseid, he has vivid visions of things Darkseid has done, or is doing. Horrible demonic visions he does not understand, nor can control and they have rendered his psyche fragile and was what drove him to try and take his own life, six weeks ago. 

TACTILE TELEKINESIS:
Mikael's generating a energy field around him that is the reason for his enhanced durability, this field could potentially allow him many more abilities, such as super speed, flight, and supers trength. So far, he's managed nothing more than to hover for a few seconds, despite Superman's best efforts in tutoring him. Yet, he's showing a lot of promise.

OMEGA BLASTERS:
Here's the real deal, the ability to mimic Darkseid's signature geometrical laser-vision. Like the former, Mikael's able to disintegrate things, or people on sight, albeit, he's never been able to do that at will – nor does he want to. He's slowly but surely getting the hang of how to turn the power on – and more importantly how to turn it off. How to do the spin – curve – phase through material laser is still far out of his grasp. 

LIMITATIONS:
The most obvious limitation to Mikael's power is that, well, he doesn't really have any power yet. His abilities are so far nothing compared to the heroes of the Justice League – or the villains they will fight. He's little more use to the Justice League than Alfred Pennyworth would, in fact, I take that back, Alfie would be more use than Mike is. However, what does make him interesting is the potential he has. Superman has gone toe-to-toe with Darkseid more than once, he knows how terrible the Dark Overlord's powers are, how monstrous his powers are, and if there's even a chance that Mikael could become a fraction as powerful, and use those powers for good, he would be a massive asset to the league, earth and all that is right.

Further on, Mikael's afraid of his own powers. His visions are putting him in a very vulnerable place, where he's unable to quite tell what is real and what isnt, as sometimes they are so vivid that the faces of others is wrapped into that of the demons of Apokalips, or worse, the victims of Darkseid's wrath. 
[/INDENT][/INDENT]

[B]|   S K I L L S:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]
Pick-Pocketing, sleight of hand and general misdirection.
Hotwiring
Handy with a crowbar
Less handy with a shotgun
Has a pretty fair hunch about the value of certain goods.
Excellent get-away driver.
Pretty handy with a pocket knife.
Gambler, can handle his booze.
Decent at hand-to-hand combat, despite never being trained.
And by handle, I mean drink four bottles of whiskey in one sitting.
[/INDENT][/INDENT]

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[center][i]But life doesn't always pan out that way, huh..[/i][/center]

[B]|   S A M P L E / B I O G R A P H Y:   |[/B]
[INDENT][INDENT]
”You guys ever been out drinking one night at the local, and wakes up 36 hours later in a pool of blood, finding out that you've got the blood of Satan pumping in your veins? No? Just me? Great.” Mike said, sitting in the all white room, only one painting hung on the all white walls, the windows were barred and the previously mentioned painting – of a boat in a wooden frame, looking like something a kindergartner had made, actually, knowing this place, it very well could be. 

Mike sat in a small circle with four other 'inmates' as he called them, it was their weekly group session – not that it was much of a session, the guy on his left, Jackson Todd, sat repeating “Philadelphia” over and over, while hugging his knees to his chest, and the one of his right was drooling and was just north of being a vegetable, too jacked up on drugs, his name was Matthew Thomas. Last was the petite girl with her pale skin and her jet black pixie cut maybe ten years younger than him, whom he had only ever heard being called “Ace.” Ace was as far as he could tell a mute, she walked, she ate, but she did it all without making a sound. He had never heard her let out a grunt, say 'ouch', cough or sneeze. If he hadn't seen her eat during lunch, he would be convinced her mouth was sewed shut.

Well, the eating, and the screaming she did at night, living in the door next to his. Her demons were very much like his, and in some way, maybe she was shades of the future for him. What had he really amounted in his life? Not a whole lot, he came from nothing, his parents were nobodies, his dad a blue collar worker and his mom a drug addict, and once she OD'd on heroin, it was his father's turn to take the needle. And Mikael had his own share of substance abuse. Alcohol had been his drug of choice, and he sure had had some bad trips, but these past six months had been like one very bad acid trip. He let out a loud sigh, as the last member in the little circle – the doctor. Wearing his tweed jacket with the elbow patches, balding hair and a bad combover, a well maintained brush mustache and beige khakis with loafers on his feet. His name was Doctor Brown, Mikael had never heard a first name for him. Well, unless his parents had named him Doctor, and he was just another fellow resident at this little piece of paradise. But you'd have to be a lunatic to name your child Doctor.. 'Kettle, meet pot, I suppose' Smith thought to himself.

“Bored, Smith?” He asked Mikael, whom looked up at him. “Having the time of my life, Doc.” Brown shook his head. “That adjournes today's session. Smith, Ace, you can return to your rooms.” Ace nodded and walked away, Mikael took another second. “I have a headache, I could use a cup of water.”

“Mr.Smith knows full well that you're not allowed to drink water at will. Ask the nurse to bring you a mug.”

“What am I gonna do, drown myself in a mug?” He asked sarcastically, Brown shook his head again, before he shoo'd him away to his room again. Mikael let out another loud sigh. His head was hurting, which meant he was gonna have another vision, that was most often the sign, he could only barely get into his room, the door closing behind him as he collapsed on the floor, his head being bombarded with hundreds, thousands of images and sounds. Battle plans, genocide, murder, butchering, slavery, mass graves – it was like the worst kind of holocaust film you ever could've imagined, but a thousand times worse than that.

He woke up four hours later, in his bed, his head was still sore, but he could at least call for the nurse. He opened his dry lips. “H-Hey, nurse.. Can I have water?” He asked, and the nurse responded with “Of course, Mr.Smith. You do have a visitor, though. I'll let the visitor bring you the water, and your nightly meds.”

A visitor? Who even knew he was here? And more curiously, who cared to visit him? All of his old contacts had shunned him in the past year. And a visitor they would let give him his meds? Curious indeed, and he probably would've continued to ponder, if it weren't for the fact that he got distracted by the ticking of the clock out in the hallway. That god damn clock always did bother him.

His door opened, and where he expected to see a face, he only found darkness. He clenched his sheets with his left arm, his right locked in it's strap around his neck, still healing from his 'accident'. The man infront of him was clad completely in black, his look unmistakable. He was the God Damn Batman.

[b]”Mikael Smith?”[/b] Batman asked him and Mike nodded. He nodded for him to hold out his hand Batman handed him the meds, and once he had thrown them into his mouth, he also handed Mikael the water he had been craving for the last few hours. Under his arm was a dossier. “Mikael Zachariah Smith, born 18th Novemeber 1988. Born at Gotham General Hospital, son of  Willis and Mariah Smith, both of them drug addicts, albeit at different parts of time. Your father committed murder on a federal agent while working for the cartels down in Mexico, and he got the needle for his trouble.”

“Yeah..” Was his only response.

[b]“You were 12 and an orphan, you were taken in by The Gotham Cathedral Church, and put in the care of their orphanage and raised Father Eric O'Malley. Five years later, Eric was arrested for his use of young teenagers are criminals and thugs, dismantling his entire network – and then you were in the wind. Off the grid. You ended up in the ER a few times, four bullet wounds on different occasions and got cut with a knife six times on five occasions. A man matching your description was mentioned as a pick-pocket, or a purse snatcher, and even as a robber in a few breaking and entering cases, but you never got caught and no one in Gotham has the time to keep going after a ghost. Well, almost no one.” [/b] Batman said, his eyes glaring into Mikael's very soul.

“Y-You here to bust me? Because as you can see, someone beat you to the punch!” He shouted, twitching his broken arm. 

[b]“Seven months ago, 85 people vanished out of seemingly thin air, all of them as old as you, born the same year, a few weeks apart from you. Two months later, 84 bodies are found in a warehouse in Detroit. You are the only one who survived the kidnapping, what happened to you?”[/b]

“I.. I really do not know...”

[b]“That injury, you remember how you got it, your little 'accident'?”[/b]

“It wasn't an accident. I jumped in front of a train and tried to kill myself. It was a miracle that I survived.. If you call this living...”

[b]“Not Quite.”[/b] Batman cut him off, taking out a video player – looking like a phone. On it was newsfootage from a railway outside of Metropolis. '600 people confirmed dead in the Monorail Tragedy” The text at the bottom read, scrolling past with footage of all of the charred corpses. It was spliced in with footage of the Big Blue Boyscout, Superman, being blasted out of the air by a crimson red projectile, tearing open his suit and grounding him, wounding him even, yet, there was no footage of what it was that had fired the blast.

“W-What?! I wasn't there, I got hit by a train and broke my arm!” Mikael cried out, and Batman shook his head. [b]“You got hit by a piece of a cart. One piece you didn't evaporate into dust. You're in Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane.”[/b]
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