Solomon Cartwright came screaming into the world on November 21st, 1986 in Marrowick, Missouri. Marrowick is a tiny, unincorporated community in the Ozark mountains. Theprimary export is moonshine and the only thing to do for fun is painkillers, and his family was well acquainted with both. Sol was the third youngest of seven siblings in a household that couldn’t afford to feed more than three mouths, so he learned early on how to fend for himself. Food had to be earned: either by bootlegging with dear old dad or by being the biggest, baddest brother and bullying your way to a decent meal.

He ran away at sixteen. A trucker named Daniel ‘The Man’ Marston let Solomon hitchhike down to St. Louis. There, Dan handed the teen over to his sister, Caroline Webber. She had a thing for stay dogs- couldn’t bear to see them go hungry. She and her husband, Neil, allowed Solomon into their home. They didn’t ‘adopt’ him officially. He doesn’t bear their name, and he won’t be on their will when they die. But they never let him sleep without a roof over his head or something hot in his belly, so they were as close to real family as Sol had.

Neil gave Solomon the greatest gift he could ask for: a job. As a twenty-five year veteran on the St. Louis Metropolitan Police force, Neil vouched for the boy, and got into the cadet program. Two years later, he had a badge pinned to his chest and a cap slapped on his head. Justice hadn’t meant much to him at the time. He felt no sense of duty when he put on the shield. The weight of the gun on his holster felt too heavy for a scavenger’s boy from the mountains. All he cared about was climbing out of the pit they called poverty. So he worked.

He worked his beat for five years. Five years of traffic tickets and busting punk kids for an ounce of marajuana. It was easy work, and easily shirked. Drinking, gambling and awkward, unfulfilling sex were all that occupied his mind. When Kelly Barrett got pregnant, he felt obliged to marry her. To call what they had love is an insult to anyone who can even spell the word. Sol was a poor husband and a poorer father, too self concerned to ever give himself over to either of them. Kelly and he fought constantly, about everything: breakfast, lunch, brunch, supper and dinner. It was almost a relief when Kelly confessed to loving another man. The day they filed divorce was the worst one in Solomon's life.

Until his first murder, anyway.

He found a Jane Doe under an overpass on I-45. Her insides splayed across the road in thick ropes. The image of her pale, exsanguinated face seared itself behind his eyes. He saw Jane in his nightmares that night. Felt terror scratch at the back of his eyes. The scratching didn’t stop when he woke up the next morning. It followed him, rap-tap-tapping against the inside of his skull. Something about that first murder left a shadow on his mind and in his soul, one with a terrible, indescribable intelligence, and it's followed him everywhere since.

Over the next ten years, six more bodies just like Jane’s showed up across St. Louis. All of them were unidentifiable. Each and every one of them were popped open and drained of their lifesblood. Unsolvable cases, all, and with each body he discovered, the shadow grew longer. It started talking to him, in its way. He started sleepwalking. Solomon would wake up standing in dark warehouses and skeevy alleyways, miles away from his apartment. He’d find notes scrawled in illegible handwriting stuffed in his pockets. Leftovers from food he didn’t order in the fridge.

Solomon fled St. Louis. It was a haunted graveyard of a city, anyway, and he hoped brighter streets would bring clarity. He’s called Calder City home for what will be a decade come December. The CCPD let him switch from a patrol uniform for a suit and tie. ‘Detective Cartwright’ still felt strange, like a pair of shoes half a size too big. Now that he’s in Calder, he has the oh so great pleasure of working with spandex-bound celebrities that think they’re cops.

The shadow followed him there. It's been half dormant. Hibernating, maybe. Some nights Sol would wonder if it had finally left him- only for the scratching to start up again.

A Sixth Sense for Malice. Violence has a certain smell to it. A stink, like expired gasoline. Solomon feels himself drawn to places where violence has either recently taken place or- terrifyingly- where it will take place soon. Weapons and objects used for bloodshed carry the same stench that people do. All Sol has to do to smell it is stand in the same room, most of the time.

A Shared Body. A second intelligence occupies his body. Its nature is wholly a mystery to Solomon, but he's sure it has ill intent. It takes the wheel sometimes. Usually only when he's unconscious, but...lately there have been...'incidents': like a hand he can't control, or a smile he can't stop. It terrifies him. He fears what the other guy might do if it fully took control.

Don't Hurt Easy. When his blood is shed or his bones break, his shadow holds him together. Seemingly fatal wounds are merely debilitating. He regenerates injuries that ought to last months in just a weekend. Whatever lives in him has made one thing clear: it won't let him die.

Life for Sol is simple: its the work. Wake up, down three cups of coffee with a splash of bourbon, and hit the streets. Its hard for him to articulate why he cares about it so much. He still doesn't know what justice feels like. There's no honor in the badge, he's learned. Its just a job. A job where he rubs shoulders with bastards on both sides of the hunt, but a job nonetheless. But he's never once considered retiring. Couldn't imagine finding fulfillment in working a bar or sitting behind a desk. Its the anger, he thinks; the anger he feels every time he sees a child wrapped in a blanket beside an ambulance. The battered, the beaten, the weary and the wandering of Calder City bring nothing but an incandescent rage to his heart. Somewhere out there, a monster in human skin did that to them. Sol wants to find them. Find them. Hurt them. Lock them up and toss away the key.

Solomon is a profoundly lonely man. He struggles to get close to others, like there’s a barrier stopping him from ever getting to know someone too closely. It isn’t just the shadow. He knows his heart too well to lay all his misanthropy at its feet. Its all too easy to hurt other people, he’s found. To find their weaknesses and stick his knives where it’ll hurt most. He doesn’t know why he pokes, prods. He wished to God he had the will to better himself. He doesn’t. He never has.

Instead, he keeps them at arms length. People are a resource to be collected and spent. They’re witnesses, suspects; partners, rivals. Every interaction is a transaction whether the other person knows it or not. Sol makes himself useful to useful people, and he tries to be pleasant. He can joke. Laugh. Lie. When it suits him, anyway. But most of the time folks can tell that there isn't anything behind his eyes when he smiles. Just exhaustion. A deep, abiding exhaustion with life.

Caroline calls him sometimes. She listens as best she can. She doesn’t understand his troubles, truly- only that they eat at him. ‘Sounds to me like you need therapy,’ she’s said more than once. Hard for him to disagree.

Solomon Cartwright's only goal is the hunt: he digs through the trash for tracks and follows the wolves through the twisting, concrete forest til he can find their dens. It distracts him from the shadow hitching a ride on his shoulders every morning. The distraction won't last forever. Sooner or later, the darkness that spawned his old friend will climb over the horizon and demand he face the truth of his existence: he's a gray, and not one that makes pretty lights dance or lets him soar among the clouds.

He doesn't know that the exsanguinating killer's still out there, or when they'll strike next.

At only 8 months, Ji-woo would spend one week in labor to give birth to a premature Kayson, his father did not deem it worth up to the birth of his youngest as the boy was already tainted by weakness. It was not until an interesting turn of events revealed that the newborn held powers like his predecessors, an uncontrolled ability that was but a flicker what he would have as an adult. This knowledge would bring his father running, the hero Singularity finally holding one of his children on the day they were born. His brother Jayson, and sister Yoo-na could only stand at awe at their father's affection for his youngest, an affection that they had longed for. Unbeknownst to them, Kayson would be the one person to bring happiness to a jaded hero.

At only the tender age of 4, Kayson would begin his training under his father's supervision. Training for the favorite son would be drastically different than that of how his siblings would undergo training. Singularity was a rough trainer, pushing Kayson but understanding that his baby boy needed time to learn how his powers worked while constantly neglecting his other children, pushing them even when their bodies were at their breaking point. A wave of disappointment would wash over him whenever he needed to deal with them, creating a rift between the siblings that would echo for years to come.

Ji-woo would try to protect her children, attempting to show the utmost love to them all equally but this would never be enough Jayson. With their father's constant barrage of anger and Ji-woo's consistent disappearance due to work, Jayson would grow disillusioned with his family and the world around them, picking on his brother as a means to rebel against his negligent father. Jayson had only gained a part of his father's powers, the ability to control his own localized gravity, marking him as a failure to Singularity's former glory, unable to embrace the name and bring it the former glory it once held. Kayson would eventually learn the reality of hatred that his family name held.

Middle school was a rough moment in time for young Kayson, picked on for being the son of Singularity, the most violent hero in Korea. No one wanted to give him a chance, some in fear of his father and others in hate for who his father was. Fight would break out, getting Kayson expelled once and yet even the new school held those that were raised to despise anyone related to the Singularity household. Kayson felt so much anger that those that treated him poorly, an anger that his father would cultivate, turning his anger into his strength, to fight with that rage and use it to fuel his training. It was this moment that Kayson would learn his father's thought pattern on heroics. Beating the villain is the most important part of heroism and the only thing that matters. Kayson would follow this logic, saving people through overwhelming victory, nothing else mattered.

As he grew older, Kayson could see the change in his bother. Yoo-na would venture into a support hero role, nearly rejecting being a front facing hero while Jayson would delve further into debauchery, not caring about those around him and fighting with their father even more. There was an air of darkness that floated around him, giving a feeling of unease to anyone interacting with him. Jayson showed little care for Kayson, even orchestrating a fight meant to hurt his brother and get back at the idea of the golden child. His arrest pushing him away from the family further, spending a few months in a juvenile detention center for superpowered children. This moment would give Kayson an inkling of knowledge that maybe his father wasn't the kind, compassionate parent that Singularity had crafted in his mind.

Kinetic Energy Manipulation - Kayson was born with the ability to manipulate kinetic energy, primarily for absorption. This manipulation presents itself as a thin field of inertia around his body. Kinetic is robbed from objects, potentially from energy based attacks, diminishing their impact and metabolizing the energy within his body. His body acts as a reserve turning himself into a kinetic battery of sorts. Every step provides him with a small source of kinetic energy to absorb. Kayson's main limitation is that his body resets during periods of a loss of consciousness, slowly draining his body of his kinetic energy reserves. Secondly, his body can only handle a set amount of Kinetic energy, actively causing him pain when at the max he can handle, eventually needing to expel this energy outward. The expulsion of energy radiates outward from his whole body violently, too much energy built up can tear his body apart if he does not willingly release it all, forcing him back to his base abilities.

Kinetic Strength - Kayson's strength grows with how much he absorbs, allowing him to strike and lift at levels beyond what a human can do. A properly energized Kayson can lift cars above his head, and tear apart metal with his bare hands. With great effort, at the max he can handle, Kayson can lift a semi truck. His potential will only grow as he trains to handle greater levels of kinetic energy.

Kinetic Speed - With increased levels of strength comes to the ability to run faster than your greatest Olympian when he is properly energized. Kayson is not to be confused with a speedster. This speed also extends to his ability to punch and kick growing faster with each passing absorption. Kayson can uniquely rotate kinetic energy throughout his legs to give his legs enough strength to propel his entire body forward like a bullet.

Kinetic Durability - The inertia field gives Kayson a small level of protection so he always enhanced in this area. Once again, proper absorption of kinetic energy strengthens his body, toughening every part. By virtue of the body becoming tougher, he can survive in harsh conditions and extreme environments longer than the average human.

Kinetic Stamina/Endurance - Kayson can fight for extended periods of time and stay awake to a superhuman degree as long as he has sufficiently absorbed kinetic energy. Pain tolerance and fatigue have a far higher threshold while energized. Part of the reason that Kayson is a tough fight.

What is your character hoping to accomplish? What are their aspirations for the future?

"Where to start. . ."

Michael Grant was born in Columbus, Mississippi with hardly a penny to his name. Despite the meager means, Mike was a religious man with a strong work ethic. In essence, he was a diamond in the rough. He wasn't given a good start at life but he had an unorthodox brilliance that he never had the chance to expand past high school. That brilliance latched onto his only passion in life, boxing. Mike Grant was a legend in 80s as a boxer and became a World Heavyweight champion. His tour of the world in matches brought him to Ho Chin Minh City for an exhibition which would, as it turned out, shape his legacy.

Thi Tam was born about an hour outside of Ho Chin Minh City to a agrarian family. It was a simple life but given Thi Tam's high marks in school, she had the opportunity to move to Ho Chin Minh City for a higher education. While there were certainly ambitions, the pressure had gotten to her and she got absorbed into city and its vices. As a means to afford some of her lifestyle, she took the job as a ring girl. It paid well and was easy work. Le Huu Toan vs Michael Grant was just any other night ideally but there was something to say about capturing the eye from the best of the best...

Nine months later, Jade was born to a stressed Thi Tam who cradled her daughter in one hand and clutched a ticket to the United States in the other. She couldn't support a child on her own and the father of her daughter was wealthy enough to support them tenfold. Surely there would be no difficulty in convincing him because what other choice did Thi Tam have?

The first meeting did not go well. While the obvious similarity in Jade was present, Mike was at the tail-end of his career. He was already married and was looking to enjoy a quiet retirement. How could his life possibly be upturned now? He wouldn't have it and when Jade's mother pressed a second encounter, Mike almost got away except for the crying Jade lashing out with a ghostly hand gripping at the man's finger. It may have seemed like divine providence then for that superhuman ability to manifest suddenly there but that's how Mike took it. He'd figure it out because despite his legend, this might be a greater legacy for him.

Jade's upbringing, as you can imagine, was complicated. Her mother was a mistress of a boxing legend and were tucked away to try and prevent controversy. The controversy was inevitable and her childhood was not smooth given her mother often fought and lashed out due to the circumstances while her father was scarce. It wasn't until her father divorced his wife, life imploded in poor decisions before it calmed enough for him to try and focus on what he had left. Jade.

In her teens, she saw a lot more of her father who took a keen interest in her. He tried to avoid the limelight now but he was especially interested in her superhuman power. Jade, in turn, took an interest in what her father did, boxing. She was trained up with her father's full attention because it was something that had brought him joy. It brought her joy as well finally having a father in her life. She may have not had the smarts of her mother but she did take to her father's athletic ability. Her power only amped that up a hundredfold.

When she was finally an adult, Jade pleaded to become a boxer but there was no room for an enhanced human that could throw a hundred punches with a hundred arms. She had no attention for school or anything else so when the opportunity came up, even if of a questionable legality, she'd take it. Enter Harborlight.

In her twenties, she had become a staple fighter in the underground arena, craving a fierce reputation but with that came the sleaze of the business. Under both threats and payouts, she got tangled up in fix fighting and other odd ends that while trying to keep her nose clean, certainly has her entering into a spiral that she is starting to regret. Would there be a way out if she wanted to leave but did that mean hanging up her love of fighting?

Phantom Limb
The more unique aspect of Jade's ability is the projection of a translucent body part that simulates the copied part. Generally, Jade applies this ability to mimic an arm or a leg. The phantom copy is 1:1 with Jade's real body part and is projected from a place that anatomically make sense, like an arm from the shoulder. One phantom arm will be as strong as her real arm, for example. Yet the energy of exertion of that phantom copy is compounded per additional copy. While one copy of an arm to punch will be roughly the equivalent of a normal punch, ten arms punching at once will feel like the equivalent exertion of a 100 punches. Yet the advantage of manifesting more than one arm is evident in the feature of stacking phantom copies on top of each other. Ten arms will be ten times the strength and so on on a linear improvement. Not to mention the extra limbs capable of contending with additional tasks.

Fighter Physiology
Jade has worked hard to keep in top physical form which would place her at an Olympic level but she'd likely still lose contests against regular humans without powers. What she does have the edge in compared to any other person is endurance, specifically when it comes down to taking a hit. Her skin is a little tougher, bones a little denser yet flexible, her tolerance for pain exceptionally high. She has grit, trialed and tested.

Jade is fairly reserved in nature. The kind of woman to keep her statements short and sweet without feeling the need to elaborate or expand. It is like she keeps her guard up the whole time without ever really trusting anyone to lower it. There is an underlying sharp wit with her but that pairs nicely with her high amount of self-confidence. She would be outright cocky if that wasn't beaten out of her in the fights that she has had in the past. She lives simply and has a passion for hard physical work and challenges.

Imagine Rocky but with the sleaze of fixed fighting. Jade is pure of heart but just tangled up with her passion, taking the first opportunity to punch someone. How will she escape is to be determined but I'm looking for things to go bad before Jade is able to redeem herself properly. She isn't a hero yet but one that I plan on becoming one.