[OOC] God Neon

[Howler]

City life was never simple, but it was never like this either.

TL;DR Summary

• Cops and Robbers with superpowers.
• Pill-popping for Great Justice.
• The real world suddenly turned on its head.
• Gritty, modern, urban street-drama.
• Moderate overarching, character-based plot.
• The kind of shit you get on your TV.
• Please post characters in hiders below until approved.

In Character Info

So Dave's dead.

...yeah. That happened.

I'm not going to lie to you guys, this is pretty fucked. I know things weren't always great but at least we had us. We had...I don't know. The team, or whatever. The crew. I'm not going to stand up here like a bitch and call you all family--now is not the goddamn time, Mike, shut the fuck up--but I am going to say you're the closest thing I have to one. I see a lot of nodding heads out there, and that's good. That's real good. He'd have liked that, only he won't anymore because he's fucking dead.

Sorry. On point.

Dave had a saying I really liked, how sometimes when you can't make do with a scalpel you gotta reach for the axe. Yeah, I see you smiling over there Alex--some tongue-in-cheek shit--but he wasn't wrong. We've been playing this whole thing small, easy and safe, pretending if we just keep our heads down this will all blow over us. We've never been out for the big time, you guys know that. You feel me, you know where I'm coming from.

Only now the big time's out for us. Used to be a fucking suicide mission, walking in here and talking that shit, but neon's back and it's here to stay, boys--shut up, Jackie, Jesus, now with the feminist shit? You know what I mean. You all heard him. The Breaker boys are popping it like fucking pez and setting up shop, and that means knuckling down and kissing ass. They want us out. They want us out bad enough to walk in here and fucking... just waltz on in and...

Yeah. Sorry. On point.

Anyway, enough talk. That's the point of this whole spiel, enough talk. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to grab the goddamn axe, and thanks to egg-head over there we've got one. Yeah, that's right. He goddamn did it. Dunno how long this first batch is going to last us, but I sure as hell know who I'm gonna use it on.

To Dave, ladies and gentlemen. To Dave and to Hell, 'cause that's the only place we're sending those motherfuckers.

Now someone get me a damn drink. If I don't wake up in the morning wishing they'd put me down instead, one of you assholes will.

Out of Character Info

Life might not have been great in Brighton--named ironically for the way the Piper Way Viaduct and the surrounding hills almost completely block out the sky--but at least it was life. 43rd and Hoxton wasn't exactly the best place to grow up, but it had its people. Most knew them as the H10 Crew, after the Hoxton Tenements they lived in, and they had their reputation same as anyone else. Didn't take shit, didn't talk shit, didn't bring shit. It had its hoods and its assholes same as anyone else--they ran game, had their girls, turned their bricks--but if you looked around it was a whole lot better than the alternative. Hell, when David King started running the show they were damn near respectable. The kind of guys that would spot you if you were short rent (and not take your kneecaps for it) and make sure your kid got on the bus instead of chasing greens down at Sanchez' place (that fuckin' guy...).

Then neon came along and changed the game.

The first round, some six months ago or so, was a trial run. Anyone with street sense could see that. Some H10 Crew tried it, but they were the lucky ones--even if things went sideways for them they kept it together, didn't level the block like that shit that went down on Walkins Boulevard. It ran its course like they did for everyone else and they figured it had done just that--run its course. Over and past, moved on and sold out to the military or something. Who the hell know with kind of heat.

It wasn't until recently, when it hit the street again, that shit got real. 'Real' as in 'deadly'. 'Real' as in two members of the Breakers, a neighboring gang with ties to some real thugs, walking in to the warehouse the H10 Crew had 'appropriated' and telling them they had a week to sign up or fuck off. When more than a few members opposed, with more than a few firearms raised and names called, the Breakers made good on their name. While one of them managed to stop every last damn bullet with his fucking brain, the other walked up to David King and put his hand through his chest. They repeated the offer and walked out.

That was last week.

Yesterday, local whizkid Verge Hanson cracked the code. After testing it out himself (and damn near blowing every circuit in the building), he came to Dave King's best friend and functioning-lieutenant Dante and told him the good news before the pair headed off to Dave's wake, where Dante promptly declared war and drank himself shitfaced in memoriam, as did most of the rest of the assembled. That was day six.

Today is one week to the day of David King's death. Your characters, members of the H10 Crew (or distraught neighbors, friends, etc.) are suiting up. They know full well that the Breakers are doing the same and getting ready, but they're not going to be ready for this. Dante plans to hit them first and hit them hard, rocking Verge's neon and anyone who's willing to hold a gun or bust out some sick powers.

So yeah, today'll be quite the day for your ladies and gentlemen. And tomorrow, well...

Let's just say it's gonna be a hell of a week.

[Howler]

RESERVED

WIP

WTFBBQ

AMIRITE

Basic OOC Rules Disclaimer

Ladies and gentlemen, I dislike lists of rules because I dislike treating you like children (even if you are, in which case this is probably not the place for you). Standards of the Advanced Section apply, though I personally am substantially more interested in Quality than Quantity. There is, however, something I would like to discuss both overall and, specifically, in regards to neon use.

First and foremost, this is a collaborative, narrative game.

What that means is that we're all in this for the better story. If your character has beef with someone else, that's all well and good--if your character, say, controls their blood to give them an aneurysm so they drop dead in an instant (looking at you Alex, you dick!), that is both not writing for the better story and being a dick. If you want to have a fight with someone else, by all means, go ahead--if you want to bring powers into it, please, do so! But communicate with them so that everyone has fun and the integrity of the story remains rather than turning it into who can be a bigger asshole.

Second, powers work.

We're all playing God Neon so we can run around as super-powered gangbangers, so let people have their super powers. Don't just say 'your power doesn't work on me' without a good reason--take the opportunity to let your character experience what it might be to go from a real, reasonable world to one where the girl next to you can read your mind when she's high.

Third, I reserve the right to make executive decisions.

This is not a democracy. I will be happy to take your suggestions into place, but I will jealously defend the integrity of the game. If I say no to something, or ask you to redo something (which is very unlikely), I trust you to understand that it is for the good of the game as a whole. I'll even be happy to tell you why its for the good of the game as a whole. But if push comes to shove, I'll win every time. It's not wise to pick fights with the person who controls abject reality. Didn't work out for Lucifer, won't work out for you.

Have fun!

This is a collaborative narrative game, guys. We do it because it's fun. If you're not having fun with it, take a look at why not. If it's on you, change it. If it's not on you, talk about it. If you need help arbitrating something, just talk with me about it. Really. It doesn't have to be a big deal.

This is my trusting you face.

Don't make me change it.

<3

Neon Use for Fun and Profit

The Full Monte

Sit down. No, seriously sit down. This is going to be a hell of a ride.

You want the short version or the long version? 'cause the short version's 'put it in your mouth'. 'That's what he said', right? Come on, man, it was funny! 'least a little funny, I mean, look, just because shit's going down doesn't mean--

...uh. Right. I'm sorry, man. Really. I am. That shit was...um. Yeah. So. Neon. Bright lights in the big city, or whatever. Looks fuckin' shiny, doesn't it? I mean, look at it. Lemme tell you, walking in on a bathtub of this stuff? You shoulda seen what it did to the fuckin' enamel. You know I'm pretty sure the active component's some kinda chemical, right? I mean, it's all chemicals, but some kind of salt or somethin'. Bathsalts--hey, that's kinda funny. I mean, they always did say they made you eat people's faces or something, right, and now they--

Oh. Um. Okay. Right. So, just put it in your mouth. Really. You can swallow, if you want, but I kinda like it on my tongue. Like electric-ice-jelly, you know, like something you'd get after blowing Frosty the Snowman. I mean, I wouldn't know, but--anyway. So it's gonna hit you like a freight train, right, in about...let's say thirty seconds, or whatever. I haven't timed it yet, so you're my guinneapig. You--no. No, you don't squeak. Shit, I forgot to start the--

Oh yeah.

Oh yeah, man, I can tell just by looking at you. Bet that woke you the fuck up, huh? How's that for some red pill bullshit? Welcome to the real, baby, realer than real. The real fuckin' deal. I dunno what kinda fucked up shit you got going on in there, but lemme tell you--some Breaker motherfuckers are gonna be real sorry they found out.

Get down to ground level, man, Chief Dante's got a pep talk for all you little injuns.

Next victim, baby, I'm fucking ACME with this shit!

Neon is not like any drug that existed up until it did. Very, very little is practically known about it. It reacts poorly to a great number of tests, does not produce reliable or standard effects, and responds differently to seemingly every person that takes it. No commercial lab has been able to functionally replicate its effects nor has any street alchemy been able to distill whatever juju it was that brought it about to begin with. So far the only true source of it is the dealer known as God Neon, who is notoriously difficult to track down.

And Verge Hanson, apparently, because someone up there loves gingers.

Neon looks to be a small capsule filled with what looks for all the world to be mercury--it's supposed to have gotten its name from the way it warps the street light, but nobody's ever really called it anything else (except, briefly, 'wagonwheel'). If the pill is cracked open the liquid is thick and viscous, ice-cold to the touch. It evaporates shortly after, though the fumes (while heady) are not nearly as potent. It cannot (currently) be used in any other form, and attempts to do so end poorly.

Verge's poor stop-watch-fu aside, it is approximately thirty seconds after popping the pill before the effects hit, and they hit. Neon provides a distinct 'charge' like most stimulants, an immediate burst of energy and a general sense of power--not-unfounded power, mind, as it also gives the user its trademark super-powers. For approximately an hour after ingesting a pill, the user is able to manifest their (relatively) unique power, which does not change between doses. Most powers have what Verge has scientifically dubbed a 'base' level and an 'elevated' level.

The base level is the mild manifestation of power that comes simply from taking the drug. A mind reader will begin to read minds; a person with telekinesis (telekine, God, read a book) might be able to levitate small objects. This continues until the person comes down from the drug, at which point the effects end (as do any supernatural effects that might have been maintained by them).

The elevated level is the acute manifestation of power, the sort of shit that really shows off the potential of both drug and individual. Said mind reader might be able to bore down into someone's memories instead of just reading surface thoughts; said telekine might be able to lift and throw a car. It's at this level that the power becomes...well, powerful. It also burns through what Verge unscientifically refers to as 'juice' much faster, with a full hit of Neon lasting about five minutes at full power versus the hour it does at base.

Much though he'd like to pretend otherwise, Verge Hanson has not made this a tried-and-tested process. Sometimes it lasts a bit longer; sometimes it doesn't. Some powers can only manifest a base level or an elevated level--Dante, for instance, lacks a base level to his power. Running out of juice is a good term for what happens when it runs out, though, because it's as tiring as coming down from a coke rush. The only thing that helps after that is sleep or...well.

More neon.

Mechanical Summary:

• 1 hit of neon = 1 hour of mild power use or 5 minutes of full power use.
• Neon feels like a stimulant. It boosts you up, and it feels good to use your powers.
• Come down from neon wipes you out. Another hit rejuvenates you, but otherwise God do you want a nap.
• Different powers function differently. Figure out how you want yours to, but be consistent.

[puddingpunter]

_{Updated on June 1st}

{Please just totally ignore this while I attempt to get my shit together.}

[Zorogami]

Done with my CS, here it is for review. Let me know if i need to modify anything.

Sarah Genz

Name: Sarah Genz
Nickname: "Cinnamon", used when she was an exotic dancer. Only very close friends know this

Faceclaim

Age: 24
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian

Physical Description: Anyone who meets Sarah would describe her as a pretty girl. Her hair is of a natural fiery red, but she often colors it in a different tone depending on her mood. Her skin is white, but not especially pale, and her eyes are of a deep blue. In the summer, she gets a few freckles on her cheeks. She has various ear piercings, about 4 on each side, which she constantly changes around. Her make-up is kept pretty simple, only highlighting her cheeks and lips a bit.

Sarah stands at about 5,6" and has a slim but fit body. She has a flower pattern tattoo on her right shoulder blade that extends down to her hip. Her clothing style can be described as "hip-hop", preferring to wear a pair of jeans and lose shirts or sweaters to dresses or skirts. She is also often seen wearing some kind of hat or beanie, and normally wears sneakers wherever she goes.

Skillset:

• Medium education - Sarah dropped out of HS in junior year. She is not dumb, but her formal education is limited.
• Athletic - Sarah has worked as an exotic dancer for around 2 years. This had made her pretty nimble and athletic
• Pickpocketing - Another method of making money, Sarah is somewhat skilled at picking people's pockets
• Good Looks - Her appearance and flirting allow her to take advantage of men, as long as they are naive enough

History:
Sarah has always had it tough, even in her childhood. Her mother was a cashier at the local supermarket, her father was supposed to be a mechanic at the steel mill, but spend more time drunk and beating up his family than working. Sarah is the oldest of 5 kids, meaning she had to take care of her siblings for the majority of her life, everything from making sure they did their homework to preparing meals when her mum was working extra shifts. Sarah grew up in a tough neighborhood, called Creek Hills, and although she enjoyed school and learning, her life circumstances made it hard to be a particularly excellent student.

When her dad got drunk, it was Sarah who became a frequent target of his aggressive burst outs. She wouldn’t allow him to touch her siblings, standing between him and them when her dad got frustrated because they were too loud or got hungry. It was a frightening, trauma-inducing experience she had to live through, one that would eventually turn her into a cold and distant person.

Her life got even worse at the age of 16. Her dad fell over unconscious one evening, paramedics would declare him dead right there in their little apartment soon after. The doctors told Sarah and her mum it was due to alcohol poisoning, the liquor had finally won the battle against her old man. Sarah couldn’t be happier to have gotten rid of that bastard once and for all, maybe her and her family could finally live a normal life now. But it wouldn’t come to that.

The loss of her husband caused Sarah’s mum to go down a spiral of self-depression, and she soon after started popping pills, barely leaving the bed or the apartment. Child services picked up on the issue soon enough however, taking away the mum’s custody before things got worse. As all the children were underage, they would end up in adoptive families, and be more than likely separated from each other in the process. It was that day that Sarah decided she was done with everything. Her siblings could still be saved, provided they ended up in nice homes, but her? It was too late to repair the pieces that had broken over the years.

During the night, as Sarah and her sibling were staying in an orphanage, the girl packed her few possessions, gave each sibling a little kiss as they slept, and took off into the night. She eventually got together with a crowd of street kids, youngsters like her that had left home to be independent, and often, criminals. Sarah started to learn how to pickpocket, and eventually stealing from stores and gas stops with the other kids. It was a tough life, sure, but not worse than anything Sarah had already went through.

As she got older, Sarah became a pretty, young woman, one that would often get catcalled by a lot of men. She decided that stealing had gotten old, and in general the danger of getting caught was always high. She had the looks, why not do something else for a living? Soon after she started working as an exotic dancer at “Desserts”, a strip club that was fairly known around the Hoxton Tenements. She became a regular dancer there, one that would often get called over for private shows, maybe even the occasional quickie every now and then. Sarah didn’t mind working there, it allowed her to make enough cash to afford a little apartment close-by, to be able to buy groceries and clothes as she pleased.

Her days of stealing however were not completely left behind, as Sarah soon realized that horny and lonely man were an easy target for a quick buck. When her customers left, the generous tip was not the only thing they had left behind with the exotic dancer. It was that way that she got to know David King, trying to steal from him. The young man was not a regular, but he visited the club every now and then. She knew he was associated to some kind of gang, which meant he had to have rolls of money with him.

When she was done with their private session, David got up, grinned, and asked for his watch and money back. Sarah was stunned; normally customers were not paying enough attention to realize something had gone missing. She got nervous, fearing the man would get her fired and back on the streets. As she returned the items, David however surprised her with an offer. He called are a somewhat competent thief, someone who people would not suspect in case of theft. The man offered her to swing by their turf, if she was interested, and maybe they could work out some sort of partnership.

Sarah thought about the offer for a few days. She didn’t dislike her current life, but no matter how tough or independent she wanted to appear, she missed to have people in her life. She had to think about her siblings every day, wondering how they were doing and if their own lives had gotten any better. A gang wasn’t really a replacement for them, but David had seemed nice enough, so she decided to give him a chance. That’s the story of how Sarah joined the H10 crew at the age of 22, becoming a thief and scammer for the group.

Criminal History: Sarah has never been to jail, but has commited enough felony over the years

• Various cases of theft
• Various cases of accomplice to an armed robbery
• Various cases of fraud
• One case of public misconduct
• Three cases of vandalism

Psychological Profile:
Sarah’s tough life, especially her childhood, has turned her into a very cold and distant person. She doesn’t talk much, generally preferring to listen and observe, taking mental notes of everything around her. She can sense when people get angry, thanks to her dad, and dislikes anyone with short fuses. Sarah is the type of person that does not laugh at jokes, and always keeps her emotions hidden away. Her demeanor is usually calm and reflective, she is someone who prefers to thoroughly ponder about a situation before taking any action.

She is not a pessimist, but a very grounded realist. Sarah has experienced that life is harsh, and if you want anything, you have to go and get it yourself. Trusting people comes not easy at all to her, and to this day, there is only a handful of crew members that enjoy her trust. In normal circumstances, Sarah is an egoist that puts her own well-being over anyone else’s, although in rare cases she can stand up for someone else, as long as that someone is one of the few people she trusts.

When on the job, Sarah puts on the persona of a flirty and promiscuous woman. She likes to play with her target’s emotions, pulling their strings like a puppet’s before stealing their money or scamming them. She knows how to make men go crazy for her, a skill she has picked up over the years as an exotic dancer. In reality however, Sarah has difficulties having genuine attraction or feelings towards someone, fearing that love will eventually turn into hurt and pain. She is a woman with a tough exterior, but is very vulnerable in her inner core.

The few people she can call friends now about her life story, maybe not all of it, but enough to know that Sarah does not like to talk about the past or her family. She is a good listener, someone that will listen to you if you have a problem. Although trusting does not come easy to her, those who enjoy her trust can count on her as a reliable friend when times get tough.

Powers:
Mind Control - Sarah is able to read other people's minds and even control them to a certain degree.

Also, i wanted to add that i absolutely loved your in-character intro, good stuff

[Ruby]

RESERVED

WIP

WTFBBQ

AMIRITE

@Howler

BBQ=love

[AdobeFlash]

I'll work on my CS later today

[NorthernGR]

I'm gonna have time to work on my CS tomorrow. In the mean time I have two questions.

1: General info on Dave? How old was he and what was he generally like. My character will have grown up in Hoxton so I'm curious if they would have been childhood friends with Dave.

2: Would you be cool with my character being an Ex (dirty) Cop? I'm planning for them to have watched out for the h10 crew. Cover up stuff so they didn't get thrown in jail or tip them when they were under threat from the police or another gang. Generally for some cash but occasionally for free. I'm just curious if Dave and Dante would've been cool with them moving back into Hoxton. And later Dante with letting them come along to avenge Dave.

[R31GN]

Ramsay

Ramsay Foraldo

"Trigger"

---

Faceclaim

A G E -
32

G E N D E R -
Male

E T H N I C I T Y -
American Italian

P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N -
His body is almost perfectly average, in every sense of the word. Average height, average weight, average muscle mass. His body is relatively hairless though, marred by a number of scars that rivals the number of hairs. Many of his scars aren't noteworthy, however he still bears a large scar running down his left bicep, and a thin line of satiny scar tissue running horizontally across his neck. He tends to dress like a cartoon character -a color variation of the same outfit day after day. He most commonly is seen wearing a dark tight fit t-shirt beneath a dull colored flannel or similar overshirt, as well as dark colored jeans. Around his neck he wears an array of small trinkets collected over the years, each with sentimental value, as well as a dark blue bandana tied tight around his throat. His most notable article of clothing is his jacket, a dark brown leather jacket of tight fit. Two golden racing stripes run up the back. He holds himself in a laissez-faire manner, formal mannerisms and strict body language lacking.

S K I L L S E T
Driving Motivations- Ramsay is a skilled driver with almost any vehicle. If it moves fast, odds are Ramsay is your man. A natural talent for machinery and a pension for speed nurtured the mans early interest in driving -years of practice only honed the skill further.

In the Scrap Heap- Though Ramsay isn't any ninja-kung-fu-hippie-dippie expert, he can hold his own in a fight. He doesn't fight with any elegance, instead favors the dirty brutal fighting style of a scrapper.

Gearing up- Ramsay is skilled with a wrench, and knows his way around machinery very well. Cars especially seem to respond to his touch.

Prophet of profit- Ramsay is skilled in negotiation, and shows talent in weaving words to get his own way. After deals, some may call him a liar and a charlatan, but... well, actually they're pretty right. A man's gotta pay the bills, right?

Scavenger? Hardly even know 'er!- Linked very closely to his skills in mechanics, Ramsay is very good at appraisal. His line of work has given him these skills in telling the value of much.

Toss up- As of late, Ramsay has taken up the 'art' of juggling. He picked up the skill surprisingly quickly, and has only honed the skill since.

H I S T O R Y -
Ramsay was raised far from Brighton, in the slums of a greasy city many states removed. Child of the streets, he learned his way around them very well. From his youth he was destined for some less than savory activities in his involvement with the seedier locals of his skidmark of a home. While his big brother, his only real role model, tried his best to keep him on the straight and narrow, but was simply unable to.

Over the years, Ramsay became more and more involved in the local gangs. While his older brother Tony had his involvement in gangs because of necessity, it was with a milder crowd than the rowdy hooligans with which Ramsay associated himself. As time passed, Ramsay himself ran his way through many drug addictions, many trips to the hospital, and many nights spent in the back of a cop car. Though he brushed these tragedies off as life throwing him a curveball, eventually his luck caught up to him in a violent manner.

Though Ramsay certainly didn't have the best formal education, he knew enough about biology to tell that there was something wrong with his brother one fateful morning. Namely, that he should not be in no less than fifteen gory pieces strewn about to form the sign of a rival gang. That couldn't be healthy.

This was a turning point for Ramsay. It was then that he realized just how fucked his life truly was, so he made the change. He cut the ties he had left, collected all the money he could, then left town. He drove and drove, and didn't stop driving until he was several states away. In this entirely new place, he found work doing what he loved most -working in an auto shop. While this seemed perfect, it was short lived. The only auto shop in the relatively small town in which he had settled seemed to be the centerpiece of much gang activity. Not something Ramsay was willing to associate himself with again.

So it was off to the corporate ladder that Ramsay fled. While he spent almost a month toiling in the world of faxes and spreadsheets, it was as short lived as everything else in his life. He couldn't spend his days doing something he didn't enjoy, so he made another switch in profession. Stunt driving, piloting, et cetera caught his attention, and after extensive searching he found a beginning to this new career.

After years spent happily, living life to the fullest, Ramsay was hit with bad times. Shitty landlord, bad choice in bank, and a disagreement with his boss ended in his financial situation being very stressed, to say the least. He left town to run from his problems as he did so commonly, and found himself in Brighton. He found himself living in the Hoxton Tenements, trying to find some way to scrounge the cash to live day to day. It was through this that he was introduced to the H10 Crew, and eventually became a part of them.

Though he had sworn away from gang activity, he saw them as something above his past. He saw it as his chance to make a difference, and do something right for once while still chasing down the happiness he so desired.

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L P R O F I L E -
Did I ever tell you about the time...- Ramsay is a sucker for a good story, and fancies himself to be quite the storyteller. While there are worse hobbies, it leads him to... exaggerate the truth very commonly. Any story from his lips is likely about half as exciting as he might have you believe.

Cross my heart and hope to die- Ramsay is what some would call a 'compulsive liar'. While he responds to such accusations with indignant scoffs, he can't really deny it either. Oftentimes he lies for absolutely no reason and for no gain of his own. Even he can't tell why he says the things he does from time to time.

I've got a need. A need for...- Speed. Cars. Driving. Fast. Ramsay finds no greater happiness in life than in these words.

Sounds like a party!- Ramsay is nothing if not fun loving. Parties, drugs, and speed define him. If he's not doing something important he will more than likely be found riding a high somewhere, in a club, or on a drive.

Places to be, people to see.- Ramsay rather dislikes confrontation in a direct sense. More often than not, Ramsay runs from his problems rather than facing them.

Chin up, kid.- Ramsay sees himself as a big brother type, and has a caring heart. While he isn't the perfect altruist, he is self-sacrificial in his care. Ramsay gladly will give up his happiness to make another happy, instantly take a bullet for a close friend, etc.

No biggie. Don't worry about it.- While Ramsay cares, he really does, he tries not to show it. He keeps a fake detached attitude up at almost all times, to keep up face. He tries a bit too hard at this facade, and is seen through rather easily.

P O W E R S -
My Design- Trigger possesses a powerful telekinesis of insane precision. Strong enough to lift a semi, precise enough to manipulate a knife effectively. Insane power, with heavy restriction. First and foremost of the restrictions is his inability to affect living beings. He's unsure exactly how the neon defines this, but if it's got a heartbeat he can't directly affect it. It helps stop him from tearing himself apart, which is nice. The second, most important restriction, is it's range. The telekinesis technically has no set range, and can reach almost anything in line of sight -the catch? It gets exponentially weaker and less precise the further it is. Full strength within an inch of his body, effective at about half strength three inches out, anything past three inches is effectively no influence.

Less WIP-y

[vietmyke]

Looks dope Howler, I'll have something up shortly

[Howler]

Well good lord, they do just pop out of the woodwork don't they.

I was a bit busier today than expected, but let's see if I can't get a few things done...

@NorthernGR
1: Some info will be provided about Dave when I can get it up, but in general he was a good guy with a knack for leadership and a talent at making friends. More even-keel than Dante, he was the one that really believed the H10 Crew should stand for the Hoxton community instead of just being another hood gang and he was actually able to make it happen. He was kind of 'that guy', the one that was everybody's friend, lead by example, and did what he could to make things better. Hope that helps!

2: Would be totally cool with that, sure. Definitely they'd have been way into being able to pay off the cops to get their boys back instead of having them wind up in juvie or jail, and not just so they could go back to dealing or whatever they were doing. If he was on Team Hoxton's side then he was brother enough as far as Dave was concerned, and in general the sentiment was shared. Dante certainly would welcome him back and haul him along if he was up for revenge.

@Zorogami

Approved, Sarah looks good! Feel free to post her on over in the Characters tab.

For everyone else, I'm excited to see so many people getting involved in this! When your characters are done, if you could please tag me in your post (or a different post, or whatever) just so I don't miss giving it a look over.

[Hierophant]

Reserved - interested.

[vietmyke]

@Howler For your perusing

Andrew Kensington

Name: Andrew Kensington
Nickname: K-Ton



Age: 24
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Asian-Caucasian Mix

Physical Description:
Standing in at roughly 6 feet flat, and weighing in at about 180 pounds of Andrew has a lean and sinewy build and a decidedly casual posture. Everything about his appearance, even when he's a disheveled mess, exudes a sort of relaxed, casual confidence. He has tattoos reaching from his left chest all the way down his arm, and keeps his hair styled and his look maintained. What few scars he has are on his torso, with only a few on his arm, most of which have been incorporated into one of his many tattoos. His style is half Hip-Hop, half modern/urban, though he looks surprisingly good in a suit.

Skillset:

• Information Gathering - A glorious mix-mash of different incidents and traits makes Andrew excellent at gathering information. From his good looks and charming personality, his exceptional memory and perception, his deductive reasoning skills, to his know-how around an interrogation set-up.
• Marksman - While not a user of long-guns and rifles, Andrew is a quick shot with a piece, and an accurate one too.
• Urban Fisticuffs - There's no such thing as 'Fair' in a street fight, and like many a hoodlum, Andrew fights with an air of improvisation and is unafraid to pick up whatever is at hand- from knives, to bottles.
• Gang Related - Andrew knows his way around most gang related activities, breaking and entering, intimidation and extortion, theft and other criminal activities. Andrew isn't necessarily amazing at all of them, but he's no slouch.

History:
A Pedigree-Gangster once removed, Andrew is the grandson of an infamous Triad boss down on the West Coast. Unfortunately for Andrew , his father was one of his grandfather's greatest disappointments, and after marrying a white woman- was expelled from the gang and forced to move away or risk the safety of himself and his wife. Moving to Brighton, Andrew's father and mother managed to eke out a living that was more than mediocre- or at least, just barely. The ex-gangster and his wife ended up opened a shitty little restaurant in a shitty part of town, nearby a block of shitty little apartments known as the Hoxton Tenements. The restaurant was quickly incorporated into part of the local gang, the H10 Crew's turf, and the couple even ended up gaining a little respect, the restaurant eventually becoming a popular hangout and safehouse for members of the H10 Crew a few years later.

Andrew had a mediocre childhood, and like many was picked up by the H10 Crew young. As a kid, he'd run errands and do lookout work for the crew, and would bully and recruit other kids from the local school districts. As a child Andrew was feisty and confrontational, and the H10 encouraged his behavior. The H10 Crew gave him a taste of parties, and the fun, daring side of life. His father as a former gangster didn't necessarily condone Andrew's lifestyle, but never tried to pull him away from it. The ties the family's restaurant had built with the gang also served to strengthen Andrew's draw to the crew.

As he got older, Andrew, and a few of the others like him that managed to survive were eventually picked up and fully inducted into the H10 Crew. With their skills 100% learned from the School of Hard Knocks, courtesy of the hood and the streets around them, they were welcomed into the crew with open arms like brothers. He was picked up by the crew shortly after Dante and David, and like Dante is one of the longest standing members in the crew. Andrew started off with the gang as an enforcer, extorting money from businesses and maintaining the 'peace' around the turf. He eventually picked up other roles, from drug buys and pushes to scouting other gangs and information gathering.

Andrew, or K-Ton, as most of the gang knows him eventually became known as one of the most reliable members of the crew- despite his laziness. The man knew how to have fun, and if you needed something done, provided you could convince him to get off his ass, he was a go-to man for pretty much any task. Now, with the death of former leader and close friend, David King, K-Ton is eager to start some trouble.

Psychological Profile:
Cool and casual, Andrew is typically seen as an easygoing and suave individual who takes things at his own pace. His relaxed composure belies his professionalism, and his calm and collected personality compliments him. Intuitive and highly perceptive, Andrew is often acutely aware of his surroundings and can easily gauge others. Clever, and quick on the ball, Andrew is able to make snap judgements in a moments notice. A bit of a sadist, Andrew darkly enjoys teasing and terrorizing his targets, asserting his victory and position over them when he is able, "Playing with his food", as others call it. Despite his sadistic nature and lazy attitude, Andrew still manages to keep a code of morals, with a strong, albeit occasionally misguided, feeling of right and wrong.

Powers:
AudioKinesis - While under the influence of Neon, Andrew has the ability to manipulate soundwaves. At its most basic form, Andrew can attack others using pressure waves from generated sound. These blasts of sound can cause physical injury, and are also capable of blowing out eardrums, or ruining an individual's equilibrium. With enough effort, Andrew can even create localized tremors by projecting high powered sound waves directly into the ground. His sense of hearing is also drastically improved- to the point that locate people and noise-creating objects and pick out their general location.

[Howler]

@Vietmyke
Diggin' it, was wondering if anyone would pull the walking boom-box angle. Approved, throw him up in the character thread!

[R31GN]

Ramsay

Ramsay Foraldo

"Trigger"

---

Faceclaim

A G E -
32

G E N D E R -
Male

E T H N I C I T Y -
American Italian

P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N -
His body is almost perfectly average, in every sense of the word. Average height, average weight, average muscle mass. His body is relatively hairless though, marred by a number of scars that rivals the number of hairs. Many of his scars aren't noteworthy, however he still bears a large scar running down his left bicep, and a thin line of satiny scar tissue running horizontally across his neck. He tends to dress like a cartoon character -a color variation of the same outfit day after day. He most commonly is seen wearing a dark tight fit t-shirt beneath a dull colored flannel or similar overshirt, as well as dark colored jeans. Around his neck he wears an array of small trinkets collected over the years, each with sentimental value, as well as a dark blue bandana tied tight around his throat. His most notable article of clothing is his jacket, a dark brown leather jacket of tight fit. Two golden racing stripes run up the back. He holds himself in a laissez-faire manner, formal mannerisms and strict body language lacking.

S K I L L S E T
Driving Motivations- Ramsay is a skilled driver with almost any vehicle. If it moves fast, odds are Ramsay is your man. A natural talent for machinery and a pension for speed nurtured the mans early interest in driving -years of practice only honed the skill further.

In the Scrap Heap- Though Ramsay isn't any ninja-kung-fu-hippie-dippie expert, he can hold his own in a fight. He doesn't fight with any elegance, instead favors the dirty brutal fighting style of a scrapper.

Gearing up- Ramsay is skilled with a wrench, and knows his way around machinery very well. Cars especially seem to respond to his touch.

Prophet of profit- Ramsay is skilled in negotiation, and shows talent in weaving words to get his own way. After deals, some may call him a liar and a charlatan, but... well, actually they're pretty right. A man's gotta pay the bills, right?

Scavenger? Hardly even know 'er!- Linked very closely to his skills in mechanics, Ramsay is very good at appraisal. His line of work has given him these skills in telling the value of much.

Toss up- As of late, Ramsay has taken up the 'art' of juggling. He picked up the skill surprisingly quickly, and has only honed the skill since.

H I S T O R Y -
Ramsay was raised far from Brighton, in the slums of a greasy city many states removed. Child of the streets, he learned his way around them very well. From his youth he was destined for some less than savory activities in his involvement with the seedier locals of his skidmark of a home. While his big brother, his only real role model, tried his best to keep him on the straight and narrow, but was simply unable to.

Over the years, Ramsay became more and more involved in the local gangs. While his older brother Tony had his involvement in gangs because of necessity, it was with a milder crowd than the rowdy hooligans with which Ramsay associated himself. As time passed, Ramsay himself ran his way through many drug addictions, many trips to the hospital, and many nights spent in the back of a cop car. Though he brushed these tragedies off as life throwing him a curveball, eventually his luck caught up to him in a violent manner.

Though Ramsay certainly didn't have the best formal education, he knew enough about biology to tell that there was something wrong with his brother one fateful morning. Namely, that he should not be in no less than fifteen gory pieces strewn about to form the sign of a rival gang. That couldn't be healthy.

This was a turning point for Ramsay. It was then that he realized just how fucked his life truly was, so he made the change. He cut the ties he had left, collected all the money he could, then left town. He drove and drove, and didn't stop driving until he was several states away. In this entirely new place, he found work doing what he loved most -working in an auto shop. While this seemed perfect, it was short lived. The only auto shop in the relatively small town in which he had settled seemed to be the centerpiece of much gang activity. Not something Ramsay was willing to associate himself with again.

So it was off to the corporate ladder that Ramsay fled. While he spent almost a month toiling in the world of faxes and spreadsheets, it was as short lived as everything else in his life. He couldn't spend his days doing something he didn't enjoy, so he made another switch in profession. Stunt driving, piloting, et cetera caught his attention, and after extensive searching he found a beginning to this new career.

After years spent happily, living life to the fullest, Ramsay was hit with bad times. Shitty landlord, bad choice in bank, and a disagreement with his boss ended in his financial situation being very stressed, to say the least. He left town to run from his problems as he did so commonly, and found himself in Brighton. He found himself living in the Hoxton Tenements, trying to find some way to scrounge the cash to live day to day. It was through this that he was introduced to the H10 Crew, and eventually became a part of them.

Though he had sworn away from gang activity, he saw them as something above his past. He saw it as his chance to make a difference, and do something right for once while still chasing down the happiness he so desired.

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L P R O F I L E -
Did I ever tell you about the time...- Ramsay is a sucker for a good story, and fancies himself to be quite the storyteller. While there are worse hobbies, it leads him to... exaggerate the truth very commonly. Any story from his lips is likely about half as exciting as he might have you believe.

Cross my heart and hope to die- Ramsay is what some would call a 'compulsive liar'. While he responds to such accusations with indignant scoffs, he can't really deny it either. Oftentimes he lies for absolutely no reason and for no gain of his own. Even he can't tell why he says the things he does from time to time.

I've got a need. A need for...- Speed. Cars. Driving. Fast. Ramsay finds no greater happiness in life than in these words.

Sounds like a party!- Ramsay is nothing if not fun loving. Parties, drugs, and speed define him. If he's not doing something important he will more than likely be found riding a high somewhere, in a club, or on a drive.

Places to be, people to see.- Ramsay rather dislikes confrontation in a direct sense. More often than not, Ramsay runs from his problems rather than facing them.

Chin up, kid.- Ramsay sees himself as a big brother type, and has a caring heart. While he isn't the perfect altruist, he is self-sacrificial in his care. Ramsay gladly will give up his happiness to make another happy, instantly take a bullet for a close friend, etc.

No biggie. Don't worry about it.- While Ramsay cares, he really does, he tries not to show it. He keeps a fake detached attitude up at almost all times, to keep up face. He tries a bit too hard at this facade, and is seen through rather easily.

P O W E R S -
My Design- Trigger possesses a powerful telekinesis of insane precision. Strong enough to lift a semi, precise enough to manipulate a knife effectively. Insane power, with heavy restriction. First and foremost of the restrictions is his inability to affect living beings. He's unsure exactly how the neon defines this, but if it's got a heartbeat he can't directly affect it. It helps stop him from tearing himself apart, which is nice. The second, most important restriction, is it's range. The telekinesis technically has no set range, and can reach almost anything in line of sight -the catch? It gets exponentially weaker and less precise the further it is. Full strength within an inch of his body, effective at about half strength three inches out, anything past three inches is effectively no influence.

@Howler
I think it's done? Maybe? I'm tired as hell though, so I might've missed something. Let me know

[R31GN]

@Howler I think I fucked up my mention in the last post. Maybe? IDK. Mieux que gardir que prevenir, I guess

[Zorogami]

@HowlerThank you! Will post her in the CHAR section. This RP should turn out fun with all the people popping in :D

[Howler]

@R31GN
Nope, you tagged me correctly! Ramsay is approved, we have our getaway driver.

[God]

Svetlana Tigai WIP

Name: Svetlana Elina Tigai
Nickname: Lana



Age: 18
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Kyrg

Physical Description:

Overview -
If someone calls Lana cute one more time, she’s going to…well, she’s probably going to stuff her frustration and journal about it like the late-blooming emo she is. She’s only just starting to be viewed as a woman, and that shift is rolling around even slower at H10, where she grew up. Plenty of the H10 crew probably babysat her back in the day, and still see her that way. She’s short, chubby, and for the most part neither her looks nor her style have dramatically changed over the years. She’s the sweet kid, the one that if you suddenly notice that she’s got a nice rack, your friend smacks you and calls you a perv (even if he’s noticed it, too).

Specifics -
She has long black hair that she tints raven-blue, and an attractive face that she usually doesn’t point at people all that often. She has round cheeks, a small mouth, and a sharp chin. Her tall forehead is hidden under a blunt fringe. She has this whole top down forced-perspective thing about her (exacerbated but not created by what is usually an extreme height disparity) that make her dark, shiny eyes appear larger, so that they seem to swallow you up until you just want to swim in the blue-black waters of her hair... At least, that’s the effect her gaze has more and more. Only a handful of years ago, that look just got her extra T.V. time.

Style -
Lana dresses casually in T-shirts (usually white) and skinny jeans (usually black). When she put on a dress for prom recently and her date picked her up, someone asked “who’s the tiny hooker?” She has not put on a dress since. Much as she wants to be allowed into the adult world, some things aren’t worth it.

Defining characteristics -
Immediately after turning 18, Lana got full sleeve tattoos with a swiftness that had to have been premeditated. Her new ink has caused some loud fights between her and her father.

Skillset:

Count on her -
Lana is smart, careful, and more educated than she should by all rights be. A curious introvert, she has always spent time reading and researching. She brings an understated knowledge to any group, and while she isn’t initially flashy, people quickly grow to count on her. She’s extremely dependable.

On the flip side, she’s in that unique stage in life where she believes that she has nothing to lose and everything to gain. Because of this, she will take sudden and extraordinary risks. Her friends incorrectly view her as fearless.

To surprise you -
She’s that stunning person that will wait at the designated spot for you all day, do what she says she’s going to do, and then pull out a wildcard, regularly surprising people who have known her all her life, and terrifying her father. She is “the secret weapon.”

…And herself -
Lana is used to observing, eavesdropping, and going unnoticed. She’s a decent chameleon: i.e., teachers in her back pocket, but if she walks up to the cool kids and asks for a smoke, they don't think she’s going to narc on them. Not knowing who she is yet herself, being malleable, is as useful as it is disconcerting to herself.

History:

Daddy’s little girl -
Lana was born and raised in H10. Her father is a second-generation U.S. Citizen with Kyrgyzstan parents and a first-generation bride (who vanished when Lana was young). Lana’s father is a bilingual Russian and English speaker, and in predictably watered down fashion, Lana can speak barely a word of Russian. Her father is a hard-working, good man, but was gone often to pay the bills, as his by-the-books factory job doesn’t pay much. The best thing he could have done for his daughter, he did. He raised her around the H10 crew, simultaneously the only gang in town who’d keep an eye on your kid and yet not induct them if they weren’t asking for it. It’s in large part due to Lana’s father’s long-standing presence that causes Lana to be viewed the way she is.

But all she wants is to be the gang’s bang -
Lana’s grown up watching and being fascinated by H10 and its oh-so-mature-up members. While she was pressured to do well in school and for the most part stayed out of trouble, she’s always wanted to experience the life she’s been protected from but lived right next to. Being part of the gang, doing drugs, having sex - all these things represent everything Lana wants, which is merely to be an adult already: the most childish wish of all.

Psychological Profile:

Nature and nurture -
All Lana knows about her own heritage is that it isn’t what everyone thinks it is. She feels like she has more in common with a Turk or that Russian guy from H10 than she does with a Chinese American, if only because that’s what people incorrectly assume she is.

Technically she’s supposed to be Muslim, although her father doesn’t observe or require her to either. Despite growing up very “normally,” she is aware of her floater status. She feels the unreasonable disapproval of her grandparents, the unrealistic expectations of her father, the sense of distance that she will always, to some extent, experience between her and an America that she has just as much right to as anyone. She is unaware of the extent of influence that this has on her otherwise straightforward desire to fit in and grow up.

Motivations -
Whatever Lana settles down to be in life, it is likely she will do it with a steady amount of bullheadedness. She’s always going to be looking to improve and get ahead, whether that’s by working hard or by being sly. Her sense of commitment to stay on a certain known path is always at war with her imaginative desire to have more. She’s lucky to be intelligent enough (and if some of her 18-year-old personality sticks, selfish enough) to get it.

She’s a young woman who has played by the rules, and is chomping at the bit to do some slightly belated rebelling. There’s only a few things she wants right now: to get laid, discover her identity, do dumb shit, and maybe save the world.

Powers:

Emotive life-creation

Lana has always been a day-dreamer and a doodler. Lately, though, her fixation with exploring herself through fantasies and expressing her emotion via art has taken on an urgent tone. When she sleeps, her head is stuffed with a veritable zoo of animals, as if the tattoos on her arms come to life. The walls of her bedroom are covered with frenetic murals of enormous jewel-eyed tigers, cranes in the act of unfolding flight, alligators creeping low and heavy across her baseboards. She doesn’t know why she imagines animals so often, or why she feels trapped on the wrong side of the bars with them.

When she takes Neon, she’ll discover that she’s finally able to express various aspects of her personality - in a less than ideal way: physical animals posing as externalized stand-ins for her emotions. As a hormonal, repressed teenager with a long history of not knowing herself, it should be interesting what the cat lets out of the bag.

@Howler

[Howler]

@God
Ah, God the Everlurk. Always a pleasure. Svetlana's approved, get her up there.

So many Archer references just flashed through my head. This is gonna be a hoot.

[Fox Fable]

@Howler Hey, I finally got this thing finished up. Give it a once over and let me know what edits you'd like to see, please! ^.^

Cassidy Creed

Name: Cassidy Creed


Age: 26
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian

Physical Description:

Cassidy isn't waifish, willowy, frail, or any other synonym for the word delicate. She stands at a respectable 5'9" and has the sort of figure indicative of a woman who spends an inordinate amount of time training, meaning she is quite solidly built. When she walks Cassidy carries herself proudly, standing tall and never slouching, though the occasional hitch in her step betrays the injury that prematurely ended her street fighting career. Her complexion is fair, with only the random splattering of freckles marring her pale skin. This, along with the sectoral heterchromia that gives her right eye a blotch of brown coloring, are traits that Cassidy is somewhat self conscious about, though she'll never admit it out loud.

A childhood in deep East Texas has permanently left it's mark on this young woman's speech patterns, her syllables soft and drawn out in the tell tale style of a southern drawl. Her only tattoo is the peacock that spans the entirety of her right arm and she has a gnarled scar on her upper left thigh from a gunshot wound. She actually has a myriad of other, more minuscule scars from the errant knife or broken beer bottle, but they're mostly to her torso or arms and aren't readily recognizable on first glance.

Skillset:

Made of sterner stuff - It takes a lot to damage Cassidy's calm. Her years fighting in the streets where anything goes and her time working as an ER nurse has made it so this little lady stays cool under pressure.

Come at me, bro - Cassidy can handle herself in a fight and isn't afraid to play dirty to make sure she comes out on top. That being said, her leg isn't as strong as it used to be and is her weak spot.

If you ain't dead, I'll keep you that way - Cassidy is not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but she can patch you up or keep you from bleeding out until you find someone to dig that bullet out of you.

Iron Gut - This one isn't the most helpful, but she considers it a skill none the less. A childhood of eating burnt hotdog and bologna meatloafs has groomed Cassidy to be able to scarf down pretty much anything without getting sick.

History:

Cassidy isn't the exact definition of trailer park trash, but she's not far off. Born in smoggy Beaumont, Texas and reared in a beat-up, rusted out airstream, the little girl never had much in the way of materialistic things or other comforts, but her mom always made sure she got three meals a day (if you can call fried spam a meal) and new shoes every winter, so she really couldn't complain. When Cassidy started sixth grade, Ms. Creed finally gave in and let her daughter bike the mile and a half to the local intermediate school, a fateful decision because it was what allowed the young girl to witness her very first street fight.

As she watched one middle school girl rip the earrings straight through another one’s ears while surrounded by a ring of their cheering classmates, Cassidy knew she had found her calling.

From then on fighting was all she ever thought about and soon the young girl found that if she was good at it people would actually pay her to beat the ever-loving shit out of other kids. She began staying out later and later after school and would come home covered in a litany of cuts and bruises. This was a point of contention between Cassidy and her mother who understandably found the change in behavior to be more than a little unsettling, but the extra cash meant they didn't have to struggle so hard to make ends meet, so she turned a blind eye to the whole thing. “Just don't get caught,” Ms. Cross would advise while she cleaned a wayward cut or applied a frozen bag of peas to a swollen eye. “And for the love of God, try not to get shot!”

Cassidy managed to heed this advice all the way through high school, but her luck ran out one evening while going a round with another fighter in the basement room of some seedy bar. Her opponent had played a clean game for the most part, only whipping out a switchblade at the very end, but Cassidy was still able to disarm and wrestle the other woman to the ground without getting herself stabbed. She was declared victorious and the man in charge was in the process of handing over the cash prize when someone in the crowd who had placed a losing bet opened fire.

One of the bullets caught her in the thigh and shattered her femur completely. It took a year of physical therapy to regain most of her former range of motion, but it never healed up quite right and no one wanted to fight or put money on someone as busted up as her, so the work dried up. Her mother's job at the paper mill offered Ms. Cross a promotion at their corporate office across the country in Brighton and she took it with out so much as the bat of an eyelash, hoping the move would help straighten out her somewhat rowdy daughter. It actually worked for the most part and Cassidy enrolled in community college to study nursing that same fall. In two years she graduated and landed a job at the local hospital, and everything was finally starting to go smoothly when her mother died suddenly at the age of 48 from a brain aneurysm.

And then Cassidy was alone.

She pondered moving back to Beaumont, but there wasn't really anything for her there either. She spent a year pulling double shifts at the hospital and avoiding her sad little two bedroom apartment like it was a plague. It was incredibly lonely and Cassidy missed having a family. Three years later and just when she was starting to feel utterly lost, fate or luck brought one David King into her emergency room. He wasn't banged up much, just a stab wound to the bicep he'd got in some bar fight, and they chatted about their different battle scars and how they got them while she stitched him up. The next day she was surprised to see Dave waiting for her at the hospital when her shift started with a proposition; to come work for the H10 Crew as a back-up enforcer and sometimes medic. Naturally she agreed and never looked back. The gang was good to her and it wasn't long after she got the hang of things that they sent her out on some of their shadier dealings, usually paired with another enforcer as backup.

Cassidy has been a part of the gang for two years now and couldn't imagine her life any other way.

Psychological Profile:

I'm your Huckleberry - While she isn't necessarily looking for a fight, Cassidy isn't known for shying away from one either. This coupled with her naturally hot headed nature has earned her the reputation of being somewhat volatile and gets her into trouble sometimes.

I'm a motherfuckin', goddamn lady, you sorry son of a one-eyed prairie dog - Cassidy has a penchant for stringing some really, ahem, colorful sentences together. Along with being crass, sarcastic, and blunt, she isn't really the kind of girl you take home to mama.

Think of the children! - She has a soft spot for all the younger, smaller, and defenseless crew members. She will bend over backwards to keep them out of harms way and loves helping them out with everything from homework all the way to boy or girl troubles, though her dating advice usually leaves a little something to be desired.

Can't read my pokerface - Well, in all actuality you most likely can. Cassidy can't keep a straight face when she's bluffing and as a result is a shit liar. She's an open book of sorts and it isn't hard to guess what she is feeling or thinking at any given moment, as it is probably written all over her face.

...Are you, um, hitting on me? - Completely oblivious when it comes to matters of the heart. Short of someone point blank saying, "Hey, I think you're cute. Wanna make-out?" she will absolutely not get the message they're flirting with her. Her own seduction skills are also somewhat lacking, as she thinks sparring matches and biting are far more romantic than roses or wine could ever hope to be.

You're all I've got - In many ways Cassidy sees the H10 Crew as the surrogate family that fills the hole her mother left behind when she passed away. Whether or not she likes you is irrelevant, if you're part of the gang then she's got your back.

Powers:

Miasma Breath - Under the influence of neon Cassidy is able to produce a colorless, neurotoxic smog from her mouth that has the cloyingly sweet odor of honey and sunflowers. In a big open space and at a distance it causes disorientation, headache, and severe nausea, but at a closer range and blown directly into the face it inflicts limb paralysis for a short period of time. In a closed space like a closet or sealed car and administered mouth to mouth it can prevent the victim's internal organs from functioning properly and may result in death. Symptoms will wane with time or can be treated by, surprisingly, coral snake anti-venom.

While Cassidy is immune to her miasma's effects, the same can not be said for the other member of the H10 Crew, which is why she is reluctant to use it when one of them is nearby. Poisoning a fellow crew member would just be embarrassing, they'd never let her live it down!