WIP [hider=The Boy Without Fear] [center] [h1][b]The Watchdog[/b][/H1] ========= Superhero Name: The Watchdog Civilian Name: Malcolm Talhaiarn-Kasimir Origin city/Planet: Bludhaven, New York Hometown: Gotham City, New Jersey Sex: Male Race: Metahuman Height: 5'8" Weight: 168 lbs. Age: 16 Birth Date: Found in a dumpster as a newborn on February 1, 2009, so that's what he goes by. -------- Costumed Appearance: Civilian Appearance: A far cry from the scrawny, malnourished youth he once was, Malcolm has… [i]noticeably grown a bit.[/i] Though still nothing special height-wise, the boy has grown up [i]strong,[/i] with broad shoulders and a dense, though lean musculature cultivated through the years of intensive training necessitated by his and his Ma’s [i]particular after hours activities[/i]- powerful, but without any excessive bulk that would impede on his agility and if the scars that still cover his body are any indication, [i]extraordinarily tough.[/i] That said, the son of Gotham’s wealthiest and favourite denizen can’t exactly wander about town looking like a hooligan- to this end, his attire is usually business casual most of the time or even a suit and tie, when the occasion calls for it and a pair of specialized contacts to change his eyes from their [i]somewhat unusual[/i] orange glow to the more natural grey he enjoyed before his metahuman gene activated. All in all, the lad does strike a handsome figure for a teenager, despite (or because of, depending on the optics) those afore-mentioned scars- most notably the crescent-shaped one around his left eye (from a broken beer bottle he took to face), one into his brow and a few on his cheek on the same side (from a grenade that punched bits of shrapnel through his helmet a year back) as well as a few scars that're [i]very obviously[/i] defensive knife wounds running down his forearms leading to hands bearing punch-scarred knuckles and a sizeable burn engulfing his left shoulder and creeping partway up his neck which he simply doesn't talk about. If asked about any of these... let's call them [i]physical eccentricities[/i], however, the lad's typical response is to just rub the back of his shaved head and sheepishly remark that a Bludhaven slum is a very [i]eventful[/i] place to grow up in. To his credit, [i]that usually shuts down most questions[/i] Icon: [img]https://s22.postimg.cc/akazralmp/hound.png[/img] Costumed Personality: The Watchdog is, by reputation, still as relentless and unyielding as ever, but time under the tutelage of Grim has clearly left it's mark- Gone is the wild ferocity of his younger years, replaced by cold, calculated patience and brutal, machine-like efficiency while his natural talents for ambush, sabotage and stealth have only been improved upon by years of hard training and harder experience. Like his mentor, Watchdog hits [i]hard,[/i] and [i]fast.[/i] Eschewing any notion of a fair fight and using a combination of advanced weaponry, gadgets and tactics as well as his uncanny ability for thinking on his feet augmented by his [i]tremendous force of will[/i] to his advantage while denying any to his unfortunate foes... who often don't even know what's going on until [i]something[/i] with glowing, angry eyes is suddenly there and [i]beating the ever-loving shit outta them.[/i] All that said there's a bit more to Grim's boy than just hunting down and ambushing the ne'er-do-wells of Gotham's criminal underworld; Various accounts of things like jumpers being talked down from the brink, trapped firefighters being saved from burning buildings and lost children suddenly appearing at Police Stations, ice-cream cone in hand have... [i]altered[/i] the reputation of the once-mythic Bludhaven Bogeyman somewhat. In ways even [i]he[/i] never foresaw- The Watchdog of Gotham, relentless and unyielding as ever, the kind of man who charges headlong into a harm's way, who takes an [i]exploding grenade to the face and [b]still gets back up[/b][/i]... has become something people [i]look up to.[/i] And to his credit, he's still not entirely sure he's comfortable with that. Civilian Personality: Malcolm is, for lack of a better way of putting it, a walking, talking stereotype of the Bludhaven lower-class, even now as the ward of the wealthiest woman in Gotham; frank, indomitably stubborn, clever in the [i]worst[/i] possible way and possessing a potent mixture of pluck and grit with a healthy dash of crazy. That said, the lad has a big heart... ironically, you'd have to in order to survive a Bludhaven slum, where everyone who isn't a gun-toting psychopath is all in it together, and has no small reserve of compassion and kindness, which he's grown much more open about actually [i]showing[/i] over the years, though he still keeps a tight lid on his own feelings and troubles. Six years under the wing of [i]Zoey Freakin' Kasimir[/i] have left their mark on the lad, however- Refining and nourishing the best of "Malcolm" while also fostering no small amount of self-control and discipline within him. The wild anger and recklessness that characterized his boyhood being largely supplanted by calm, methodical patience and an infuriatingly dry sense of humour with just a tinge of charm. Something that has both bled into his more 'private' life and made him into something of a media darling, particularly after he very famously eyed a group of metahuman criminals looking to kidnap him during a charity event in Dakota City up and down and simply cracked jokes at their expense and held his ground where most others panicked and fled for their lives- Something that endeared him to a world still coming to terms with the new reality that actual [i]Supervillains[/i] were a thing now. That's not to say he's above it all, however- The years have been rough, and though on the outside he makes a show of keeping his head up and marching forward with an iron will and a sharp tongue, he isn't as invulnerable as he'd like to believe... and the memory of what happened in that alleyway on the eve of his eleventh birthday haunts him still, gnawing at the back of his mind and fueling an oft-unmentioned reserve of deep-seated anger. Super abilities: [hider=Skills] [b]Infiltration/Stealth:[/b] To the surprise of... pretty much no one if you think about it, picking a lock becomes a [i]lot[/i] easier when you can actually see inside the damned thing, and it becomes a helluva lot easier to sneak into places nobody wants you to go if you can both know in advance that the coast is clear, and [i]physically see how much sound you're making[/i] and how the acoustics of the room will carry that around. Add to that, some formidable experience in hacking and sabotage and you have yourself [i]one hell of a potential problem[/i] for any ne'er-do-wells who think themselves safe by hunkering down and digging in. [b]Parkour:[/b] Growing up in an urban slum, Malcolm has always had a knack for maneuvering around the city in some unconventional ways, more often for fun than anything. But now grown up, with his vision, reflexes, body-coordination and [i]proper training[/i], he damn near [i]flies[/i] across rooftops and down alleyways, maneuvering through the urban jungle with astonishing ease. Moreso now after six years of being under Zoey's wing, with actual [i]proper instruction[/i] and [i]high-tech gadgetry[/i] to back up his experience with rooftop running. [b]Advanced Combat Training:[/b] Malcolm's adoptive father, being a former Marine raising a kid in a slum in one of the most dangerous cities in the whole United States, had the forethought to pass on his old tricks to his son. It sure wasn't [i]pretty[/i] but it [i]was[/i] undoubtedly [i]effective[/i], especially when combined with Malcolm's unique abilities and provided a solid base for Grim to work with in training him over the past six years. Incorporating elements of Muay Thai, Greco-Roman wrestling, Judo and Zoey's own Combat Sambo into what his father had left him among other things, Mal has honed his own body into an efficient, if not outright [i]terrifying[/i] fighting machine. [b]Good with his Hands:[/b] Being able to see inside or through anything that isn't made of lead has it's benefits, one of them being being able to directly observe the guts of a machine or a person to see how it or they work, granting Malcolm a somewhat unique insight into the fields of both mechanics and medicine. While in the past, as a starving kid armed with only a lead pipe pitting himself against the world, this was only particularly useful for bouts MacGyvering, sabotage and precisely striking some schmuck where it'd hurt the most, six years under the tutelage of Zoey Kasimir have honed this into a formidable force all of it's own- shaping the boy into a both an impressive engineer, damned decent field surgeon and all around [i]colossal nerd[/i], further bolstered by his eidetic memory and enhanced bodily coordination. [b]Polyglot:[/b] The slums of Bludhaven are a surprisingly diverse place, and Malcolm has grown up around a lot of people from a lot of places who speak a lot of languages and has met and learned many more as both the public face of Vanguard and as the sidekick of Grim. As a result, the boy has grown to be not only literate in English, but Ukrainian, Italian, Spanish, Cantonese, German, French, Norwegian, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese, Icelandic, Arabic, Latin and even Atlantean as well. All in all, not bad for what was once a scrawny kid from Blud who learned to read from whatever scraps of old books, newspapers and magazines his Dad could find in the trash. [b]Natural Detective/Tracker:[/b] As can be imagined, being a walking, talking blacklight, thermal, electrical and audio scanner has it's advantages, giving Mal a certain edge when trying to find the who's, what's, where's, why's, when's and how's of a crimescene... and making him [i]particularly difficult[/i] to evade once he is onto someone's trail. [b]Freakish Toughness/Force of Will:[/b] Since starting his superheroic career at the ripe age of eleven years old Mal has been shot, stabbed, cut, poisoned, drugged, electrocuted, set on fire, had his bones broken, been nearly drowned, survived explosions and dodged many other should've-been-deaths [i]multiple times.[/i] And is somehow, beyond all reason and logic, [i]still alive.[/i] Many would assume this is due to some other, as yet undiscovered component of his metahuman gene. His mother certainly wishes that were true. But the fact of the matter is that Malcolm is no more bullet, knife or fireproof than any other guy; he is however, by virtue of experience and sheer force of will, [i]ludicrously, [b]obscenely [u]tough.[/u][/b][/i] Able to take an outright [i]inhuman[/i] amount of punishment, both physically and mentally and still get back up and [i]keep fighting.[/i] Something that has earned him both the fear and admiration of his enemies and peers... and has caused no small number of anxiety attacks for his ma. [b]Peak Human Conditioning:[/b] One doesn't do what Mal does [i]without[/i] being in some ridiculously good shape. And Zoey makes for one [i]hell[/i] of a gym instructor, forging the boy over the course of six years into a [i]living weapon[/i] capable of physical feats even Olympic-level athletes would gawk at. [b]Cooking:[/b] may well be his [i]actual superpower.[/i] [/hider] [hider=Powers] [b]Omnivision:[/b] By far Malcolm's most drastically superhuman ability, the boy is able to perceive almost the [i]entire Electromagnetic Spectrum[/i], being able to see infrared, ultraviolet, electrical currents and even straight through solid objects. And that's not even mentioning how he also possesses telescopic vision up to five miles, see in absolute darkness and can even comprehend [i]soundwaves[/i]. There [i]are[/i] some caveats to this, however; Firstly, he can't see through lead. Secondly, [i]there is no off-switch[/i], and his brain is processing [i]all[/i] this information at the same time, the end result forming a sort of abstract painting with shifting soundwaves bouncing off of translucent walls with waves of blue, red and shifting orange forming the image of a world engulfed in a raging inferno. One that doesn't go away, even when Malcolm closes his eyes. [b]Enhanced Brain/Nervous Function:[/b] Malcolm's brain, as a side-effect from being able to [i]function[/i] under the strain of everything listed above, has effectively been kicked into high gear, processing information at nearly ten times the rate of a normal human being. Though this does not inherently make him [i]smarter[/i] than the average Joe, it [i]does[/i] mean he can learn and retain information at several times the rate of a normal human being, with the added bonus of an eidetic memory; meaning that with time, and the proper instruction, he could prove to be one of the greatest minds of his generation. Another, slightly more immediately advantageous side-effect of Malcolm's now overclocked brain is that, like his mental faculties, his reaction time and reflexes have been accelerated to ten times that of a normal human being. This, combined with his vision, makes the small, starving boy a legitimate force to be reckoned with as he can read an opponent's nerve impulses, body language and muscle contractions to get an idea of what they're doing and react to it before they're actually finished doing it. Additionally, this new, more efficient nervous system has granted the boy unparalleled bodily-coordination, allowing him to perform feats of dexterity and precision with ease that would be beyond even Olympic athletes and skilled craftsmen. [/hider] [b]Gadgets:[/b] -His dad's old Zippo. [b]Weapons:[/b] - Civilian Occupation: Rich Boi Biography--------- Character History/Origin: [hider=Dramatic origin story, HO!]Bludhaven, a city with many names; The Devil's Tongue, The Big Dirty, The Bloody Haven, The Blud, Gotham's Toilet, etc... it was here on a frigid February evening that John "Mad Jack" Talhaiarn, former United States Marine and current owner of the clothes on his back and not much else, happened upon a screaming newborn baby in a dumpster behind a biker bar and across the road from a Denny's. Thinking quickly, the man lifted the screaming infant out of the trash and pulled him into the warm confines of his parka as he began trudging his way through the heavy winter's snow towards the shanty town he called home. Talhaiarn had no idea what [i]hell[/i] he was doing, but after a lifetime of mistakes that had led him down dark paths, disgraced and astray from his beloved Corps, he vowed to himself and any God who may've been listening, he was at least gonna get this [i]one[/i] thing right- [i][b]Saving this fucking kid.[/b][/i] It took a bit of doing, and a little help from his neighbours to scrounge up and MacGuyver everything necessary to care for a newborn, but somehow he pulled it off. After a week or so, the kid stopped screaming so much and started giggling whenever he caught wind of the old Marine near his makeshift crib. A few days after that, he started calling him "Malcolm" after his old man. And some time after that, John Talhaiarn, a man who was both a living legend and a disgraced outcast of the United States Marine Corps... began to actually [i]enjoy[/i] life again. If there was anywhere to start this story, this would be it. Mad Jack's boy grew up in their little Shanty Town, comfortably nestled in a wide alleyway, stubborn, tough and clever. With a tongue and wit sharp as any bayonet his Dad'd ever held in his former life but a heart as big and as bright as the goddamned sun. Never having much, but never really [i]needing[/i] anything his little community couldn't provide anyway, Malcolm spent most of his days scouring the slums for anything he, his dad and his neighbours could use to make their lives easier, getting into all sorts of trouble with the other slum kids and sitting around with his dad, raptly listening to (heavily censored) war stories from his days in the corps. It wasn't an easy life, by any means- But he was happy, so he never really gave a shit. [b]Though, if you've ever read a comic book, you probably have a good idea where this is going...[/b] In the opening weeks of 2020, the five-year-long turf war between an alliance of the local Chinese Tongs, Russian Mafia and Irish gangs against the invading Aquila crime family of Gotham was reaching it's end, with the Aquilas emerging as the clear victors. In order to hunt down their rapidly scattering enemies and to send a [i]very[/i] clear message about who was in charge now, Don Michael Aquila hired a 'specialist' from his hometown to get the job done- [b]Firefly. [i]A psychopath with a flamethrower.[/i][/b] The night of January 31st was a relatively standard one for Malcolm; his "Aunt" Lin was cooking dinner over a drum fire, the Mikhailovich brothers were arguing in a heated, Slavic sort of way about... something stupid, from what Malcolm could gather as their confrontation shifted back and forth between Russian when they didn't want the kids to understand what they were saying and Ukrainian when they were too mad to give a shit, and Malcolm was sitting with a bunch of kids around his dad, who played Johnny Cash on a (mostly) intact guitar he and Malcolm had found the year before and the Shanty Town's local mutt, affectionately named 'Fleabag', was sprawled belly-up on Malcolm's lap being smelly and aggressively affectionate. All-in-all, pretty normal... until something caught Fleabag's attention and she started barking up a storm. That being a charred... thing that vaguely resembled a person and stank of burnt meat that shambled it's way into their alleyway, gargling and hissing only one thing on what was left of it's vocal chords as a massive figure stepped out from shadows behind it and leveled a malevolent-looking device in the direction of everyone present; [b]"Help... me..."[/b] All Malcolm can recall of what happened next was the sight, sounds and smell of everyone he'd ever loved or cared about being roasted alive to the chorus of screams and the demented laughter of the owner of a single eye encircled by scarred and burned flesh which shone with insidious ecstasy at the scene before it. And after that, nothing. The next thing Malcolm remembers is crawling out from underneath the charred remains of his father, his dog and all the other kids. It was his birthday. At first, he could do nothing but sit there, shaking and trembling in silence as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was looking at, before realization slowly set in. Then the crying started. Followed by the screaming. And as the screaming gradually changed in pitch from horror and denial to pure outrage, something in the boy [i]broke.[/i] The fire that consumed his family and friends slowly ebbed it's way back into his vision and consumed the whole world as he comprehended it, revealing to him nothing but violence and horror no matter where he looked, regardless of whether he wanted to see it or not. Seemingly trapped in an eternally burning hellscape of violence and horror that he could not escape, even when he closed his eyes and in a fragile mental state, he could've easily bent or broken down. Instead, he got mad. He got [i]real mad.[/i] Unable to sleep while seeing what he could, the lad eventually lashed out, more out of spite than any sense of justice, throwing himself into the fray against the criminal life within his slum with the frenzied anger of a mad dog... and then never stopped. And so it was, that the myth of the Watchdog of Bludhaven was born.[/hider] [hider=The Intervening Years][/hider] Optional information ---------- Nemesis: Firefly, Anarkee Allies: Grim, Lady Arcana, Aquaman, Prometheus, Vinestalker Affiliated Groups: The Grim Family, The Argonauts [/center] [/hider]