Name: Pete Anderson Alias: Artificer Age: 18 Alignment: Hero Loyalty: Minutemen Appearance: Pete is still rather young to be battling it out against criminals and his 5’6” body pretty much shows that fact. He has a physique that you could determine to be skinny fat, even though he looks rather thin his general aptitude at fitness isn’t all there with his body. Pete is pretty damn white, he has a large head of styled brown hair, and sadly still has braces stuck in his mouth. Combied with his general don't-care look of t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies make him not too attractive. Artificer on the other hand looks pretty cool in his eyes, he wears a padded black jacket vest with a bullet proof vest underneath, some padded dark blue jeans, padded long sleeved white shirt, a paintball mask, and some combat boots.
History: Pete has lived with his family here in Denver his entire life, it was a pretty standard living arrangement as a mother,father, brother, and sister lived within their fairly large apartment. It was just about as average as one could imagine, loving family, a close group of friends, did fairly well in school, but there was one thing that Pete always wanted to do within his spare time. He always wanted to be an engineer of some sort, he always looked up to tinkers in all forms of media, and he thought that if he could build stuff like them than technically he could find himself being like one of them. It was to be his goal to build really cool stuff like the high-tech stuff he sees on TV, but the only problem with this goal was that Pete sucked at it in almost every single way. Anything he tried to build would eventually break or destroy itself almost comically, from birdhouses to programming some robots ended up in complete and total failure. This obsession with tinker construction lasted far longer than any thought, and soon his family began to become worried about his growing stress of failing to become his idols.
It had been three years since his first construction, and every single prototype ended up in complete failure to the dismay of the little would-be tinker. He was stuck inside his room most of the day, his grades have been dropping, and his general hygiene was getting worse and worse. It was becoming a total hindrance with the family, but no matter how many interventions or trying to snap him out proved nothing as he toiled with design and design. Pete was losing it, he just wanted to build one thing without it becoming a failure and he would be satisfied and leave to do something more productive. However, the more his failures became apparent to him the more stubborn he got to actually build something for himself. It was a never-ending cycle of failure until one fateful day, sitting down on his chair and pulling himself up to his workbench, Pete was ready again for another failure as he grabbed some scrap and tools that littered the worn out table. He was going to build something that would result in failure from his guess, but suddenly his vision started to get blurry and Pete felt sort of weird before suddenly blacking out.
When Pete awoke, he checked his clock to see that two hours had passed, he just assumed that he was tired which resulted in him passing out. He felt weird by the whole ordeal, but as he reached for the scrap again, Pete grabbed something strange. It was… Something that he has never seen before, a wooden figure that was shaped like some sort of insect? He didn't remember carving this figure as he started to flip the thing over, and as he got to the bottom there was something scrawled on it. Pete was confused by these words and uttered them aloud causing something eye-popping to happen to the wooden figure. The wooden insect had suddenly transformed into a pony sized disgusting fly! Pete shrieked at the top of his lungs as the fly started to buzz around his room, there was no way something like that could transform from that tiny little figure! After a few minutes of him pressing himself against the wall with the fly nonchalantly buzzing around near his door, his panicked mind soon remembered those words scrawled on the bottom of the figure that started this entire situation. Saying those words once again, the gigantic fly quickly transformed back into its tiny wooden state leaving Pete sitting on the ground breathing in a rapid pace. He looked at the figure and thought to himself, "I made that."
Personality
Motivations: To show off his creations mostly to the public, he wants to show the people his cool creations and do cool things with them. Sexuality: Heterosexual Likes:
Tinkers
Building
Family
Dislikes:
Failure
Destruction
Criminals
Derangement: Confused, Pete finds that his mind became a bit foggy after his powers randomly came to him causing himself to become a minor klutz and random small cases of short-term memory loss.
Parahumanism
Skills: Pete is good at playing video games and can memorize things to a decent degree if he doesn’t get one of his cases of short-term memory loss. I mean, that is all he has, what can you expect from a young teen that hasnt done much with their life? Classification: Tinker Details: Artificer has a fairly different process when it comes to building stuff like other tinkerers. While most would find themselves working meticulously on their projects creating every nook and cranny on their creations, Artificer finds himself completely unconscious the entire time while constructing his creations. Yep, Artificer enters a trance like state whenever he sits down to build some stuff, at a minimum Artificer is in a trance for at minimum thirty minutes and no max time limit. So, while Artificer is in this trance with his glassy eyes, he ignores everything around him and his body goes on basically an auto-pilot until a the random item has been finished and ready for use. Limitations: The most obvious limitation is that Pete blacks out whenever he goes to make another creation. The resulting problems from that first one causes Pete to have no recollection on how to re-construct the item or repair it all, the object is as foreign to him as any other person that looks at the random item. This also means that Pete doesn’t know how to work these random pieces of technology, so it is mostly just a trial and error type of deal when trying to figure out what these items do which makes for some highly hilarious or dangerous shenanigans. Equipment:
Fly Figure made of Ebony - While in lifeless figure form it is as hard as a wood with the size merely being an inch long, but once in its pony-sized living form by saying the command word "Shoo Fly", it also follows the commands of the one that summoned it. So, with a body made of wood it is resistant to most average blunt attacks but a few shots from a gun would make it revert back into figure form.
Necklace of Beads - A simple strand of string with some beads which makes for a fairly simple necklace. However, each can be plucked off the string with ease and thrown, once landing on any surface the bead instantly detonates causing an explosion which becomes larger corresponding to the size of the bead. The bead sizes range from one to nine on a scale, one having the average power to blow a door clean off its hinges to nine destroying an entire floor of an apartment building. Generally, one can predict each occurring size is around half a pound of C4, so number one would be half a pound while nine a whopping 4.5 pounds. Currently this necklace contains one nine, two sevens, two fives, and four threes.
Name: Kirb Siegel Alias: G4M3R Age: 19 Alignment: Anti-hero, deep down. Probably would like to be referred to as Hero though. Loyalty: Minutemen Appearance: Standing in at a short 5'4" and 110 lbs. Kirb is a surprisingly attractive young man, blessed with a smooth complexion, sharp features, and charmingly messy hair. He's got just the tiniest traces of a gut and a few callouses and cuts on his hands, but that's about the extent of his physical imperfections. Casually, he simply wears hoodies and jeans most days, occasionally dropping the sweater for a long sleeve button-up. His most bizarre feature is obviously the receivers on the side of his head, replacing his ears. To hide this he often wears a beanie in public.
Kirb plans to change his hero costume often, though currently it is a simple cosplay of Heat, from SMT DDS. It's made of simple cloth and bronze, as well as worked in kneepads, elbow pads, and a bulletproof vest. He has also added two holsters, one on each hip. The one on his left houses his reflector shield, and the one on his right is home to the OmniWrench.
History: Kirb was the first born and oldest child in his family. Though growing up he had a strained relationship with his siblings, his peers certainly didn't mind him and he was quite intelligent. He displayed, at a young age, a fascination with fantasy and games. He could admittedly be a bit of a space cadet, but not enough to spur any worry. Kirb breezed through life, careful to not seriously try his hand at anything besides his academics, before discovering video games. Once he discovered them, he became obsessed. They were his only hobby, essentially, and although a few of his relationships began to slip, he was still pulling in good grades and having fun.
He began getting into the competitive gaming scene near the end of his Sophomore year. His game of choice was Super Smash Bros Melee, one of his favorite games that had a tournament scene, from what he had saw online and locally. For months he practiced combos, important techniques, and against his friends. He thrashed them easily, and was confident in his ability all the way until thje day of the tourney. Admittedly once there, he had gotten a bit of cold feet, but his friend Pete helped him get over himself. He had put in the time, he had proven himself, and he would win.
Kirb climbed the brackets. It started off easy, some thirteen year old who was a big fan of Pikachu was easily taken down by Kirb's Roy. Quickly though, the challenge ramped up. Every opponent got a bit stronger, a bit more skilled, a bit more precise, and a bit faster. But he always came out on top, and Pete was cheering for him. Finally, he was facing off against the last person in the finale. The winner of the loser's bracket, a young man named Nathan. Kirb won the first round easy, but something didn't feel right. How could he ascend the brackets playing so poorly? His suspicions turned out to be true, as during round two, Nathan began playing miles better, using techniques Kirb had never even seen. He desperately tried to fight back but after even a round he unplugged his controller and left the vender, fuming, as Nate called out to him smugly. He left Pete behind and walked home.
Days later, Kirb was still absolutely pissed. He hadn't even bothered to try and talk to any of his friends and sat, stewing in his room for days. Eventually he had managed to return to school but his grades plummeted. His thoughts were crowded with how to find this person, show him up, and destroy him. Every day and every night, as he was training, as he was eating, as he was sleeping. But he had no idea how to do any of that. He read through phone books, put out ads, searched the internet. As the end of his senior year approached, Kirb received a letter with no return address. It simply stated "Leaving town soon, have fun ;] -Nathan"
Kirb was completely stunned. For almost a year he had been looking for this man and had come up with nothing. No trace of that person even existing beyond their encounter. He hadn't even told anyone about him! And yet still Nathan was a million steps ahead, able to figure out Kirb's address and send him a direct letter! Instantly Kirb ripped up the letter, ran into his house and grabbed a blade and some tools. Smashing a radio open, he gutted it for parts and began building. Kirb wasn't even sure what was going on frankly, everything was such a blur, even cutting off his own ears. After a few hours and a lot of pain, Kirb's ears were now replaced with Quote's Receivers. Tuning in, Kirb began flipping through channels, listening for Nate's smarmy voice. Flipping through, obviously, didn't amount to much though. For hours he sat in his room intercepting phone signals fruitlessly, until one of his siblings came in. They asked what was on his ears and he told her to piss off. Eventually his parents came in and realized he had engineered an advanced communications device and managed to replace his ears with it.
They were certainly concerned, but also happy that their son was a parahuman. In fact they mentioned how proud of him they were, and wanted to get him into the Protectorate, since he was almost of age. Kirb insisted against it, instead wanting to form his own organization. His family was all for him making something of himself considering he wasn't passing school and he wasn't going to become good at videogames. For a few months Kirb began setting everything up, trying to put Nate out of his mind for the foreseeable future. He'd see Kirb, or at least his alias G4M3R's exploits and realize that playing some dumb game well was worthless when one could bring stuff from those games out to fight crime.
Kirb formed his group, called the Minutemen, took out a loan to get a small office, and called an old friend to help out. Recently the group has introduced another member into the fold, Kyoshi, and Kirb plans on bringing another person into their group.
Personality
Motivations: Kirb want's to prove to the world that he has skill, that he's not your average gamer and that that stupid competition didn't mean shit and that he's BETTER THAN YOU NATHAN, DO YOU HEAR ME? Sexuality:Bisexual, preference for effeminate men or transgendered women. Likes:
Videogames
Videogames!
VIDEO GAMES!!!
Mashup Albums
Money
Females (Males)
Dislikes:
Nathan
Cheapskates
Braggarts
Internet Animations
Derangement: Oddly enough Kirb's derangement affects his powers. Kirb is currently incapable from taking ideas from forms of media other than videogames. He's also extremely vindictive and will hold grudges for obscene amounts of time.
Parahumanism
Skills: Kirb used to be fairly decent at SSBM. His skills have fallen off though, even if he still displays an encyclopedic knowledge of almost all videogames. He is also a decent shot, and runs a letsplay site endorsing his crime fighting group. Classification: Tinker Details: Kirb is a Free Tinker, with no specific specialization. Guns, blades, armors or tools, he can build it all. Unfortunately, there is one very hard rule to what he builds; He can't have thought of it himself. All ideas he thinks of he inevitably can not build. Instead, he has to take ideas from elsewhere to build them. To get around this limitation, G4M3R takes his ideas from videogames, taking the weapons he's used in the virtual world and transforming them into real live pieces of machinery. Limitations: Like all Tinkers, Kirb needs space, time, and resources to make his inventions. He also, as stated, needs to have gotten the idea from somewhere else. His derangement also limits him exclusively to taking inspiration from video games, and those he hasn't played he can't make anything from. He is also pretty weak in the bioengineering quadrant, though cybernetics aren't an issue. Equipment
Cybernetic Receiver - His ears have been replaced with Quote's receiver, allowing him to listen to and even magnify or deafen regular sound, as well as intercept radio waves.
Reflector - An electromagnetic shield that envelops Kirb's whole body, designed to reflect any projectiles thrown at it back to sender. It works on both physical projectiles and plasmas, but gases or liquids pass through it just fine. It can also only be activated for a full second before needing to be activated again.
OmniWrench 12000 - A large wrench, useful for tightening bolts but more useful in combat. It's a pretty powerful striking weapon, and can be thrown to far off places and return to the user's grip. It's also magnetically charged.
Name: Chosei Primer Alias:Kyoshi Age: 18 Alignment: Hero Loyalty: Minutemen Appearance: Chosei is a taller woman with a slightly thinner figure, complemented by dark brown hair and a somewhat Japanese resemblance in her facial structure. She tends to wear the colors of green and beige within her casual outfits, and she constantly carries around a generic brown backpack, containing her cape outfit and a makeup set. The cape outfit that Chosei wears is a very close copy to Avatar Kyoshi from the series of the same name, and the makeup acts as a way for her to conceal her true identity while she acts as Kyoshi.
Chosei was born in San Francisco as a smaller baby to a couple that was not married yet but there was an obvious feeling of romance between the two, evidenced by their marriage a few months after the birth of Chosei. In her early years, Chosei excelled in a social stance, despite being rather silent as a child and preferring to listen instead of act, she treated everyone with the respect they deserved and never expressed any ill will towards anyone she had met unless they were rude to somebody or some thing.
Throughout her schooling years, Chosei held her grades up high as she made As and Bs consistently, and she expanded outwards once she hit high-school through with her pathway being spread out with an idea of wanting to be a physical therapist when she finally can work. Everything was going fine for Chosei until she learned that a better job opportunity for her dad was in Denver. She didn't exactly know what the job was, only that it involved parahumans, but she knew it was a better opportunity for her family as her father was the only source of income and Chosei didn't really push for much of a fight as it would prevail to no change.
San Francisco would put up a fight for Chosei though, as one of the last weeks that she was in the city caused her trigger. She and her mother were going on a trip to Alcatraz as a sort of last memory of their home before they left it behind in pursuit of a new life, and an earthquake caused by either natural occurrences or an undiscovered parahuman sent the ferry to Alcatraz into ruin, trapping the mother and daughter between the bottom of a bay with water rapidly rising around them, and a ferry. There was no feasible escape for the two and things looked dismal and deadly for the both of them, until one of them had a surge as the boat was lifted by seemingly nothing. Chosei brought the ground up from under the two, allowing the boat to ascend slightly out of the water and get the two of them enough time to barely get above water. The time was a traumatic experience, but it helped Chosei figure out what she was truly capable of. The next few weeks after that were spent in efforts moving to a new apartment building in Denver.
After a while of schooling, there was rumors of a new show on TV that Chosei's new friend was really looking forward to, and she decided to take a look at it. It was there that she discovered the character Kyoshi, who has the ability to manipulate the Earth around her to her will much like how Chosei did and continued to do since that day trying to obtain a better understanding of her power. After a bit of sewing (she was surprisingly well at that), her cape outfit was born and the hero known as Kyoshi had come into existence with hurling pebbles everywhere and such.
Personality
Motivations: For the most part, Chosei still wishes to pursue a career in physical therapy, but has been thinking about martial arts. She largely wants to help those who need help, and she'll do whatever it takes to accomplish her goals. That being said, she does not want to join the Protectorate, as that's where her father has a job at and it would cause incredible amounts of conflict within the family. Reasoning for this is how her father has seen the kinds of things that the capes have been put through, and he is afraid of having to worry about his daughter being in a line of fire, so he forbid her to join the Protectorate at any cost, no matter how severe. Sexuality: Heterosexual Likes:
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Cosplay
Old Comic Books
Dislikes:
Flying in an Airplane
The Ocean
Being underwater for extended periods of time.
Derangement: Chosei is very afraid of water as a result of her trigger event, and will not swim in anything that goes past her lower leg if she has to. In addition, she is afraid of flying in an airplane as the height makes it incredibly difficult to use her power effectively. She can use her power to "fly", however, and it's not as scary for her to do so.
Parahumanism
Skills: Chosei knows Japanese and can speak it fluently, as well as read it just as easily. She knows karate, and commonly mixes it with her power as a way of both making it flashy and making it more authentic to the show where her cape name is from. She's book smart and knows her way around a kitchen with great suave, but she's not very skilled beyond that. Classification: Shaker Details: Chosei can manipulate earth to her desires, with near free reign as long as it follows with the rules of her limitations. The extent of the manipulation goes to her being able to levitate it, break it, move it, fly on it, block with it, and even dig through it. The extent of the earth stretches from being able to move sand to being able to work with cement and concrete. The extent of the range is in a 3 meter radius around her body at any given point, and can be increased to 10 meters with complete focus on a task at hand. The amount of earth that can be manipulated depends on the mass, whereas she can manipulate it without any fear of weight, but the multitasking of it is affected. If she can multitask better with more smaller rocks than she can with multiple giant boulders (she can't hold two boulders at once). Lastly, Chosei can propel the earth she manipulates with incredible efficiency and expertise, able to both block with it and fling it at those who attacks with alarming speeds, sometimes fatal if she's completely lost in focus. Limitations: Any "earth" outside of the range that she can manipulate is unable to be affected, and she cannot bend metal. In addition to these factors, she cannot work with the earth as well unless she's working through her martial arts training, meaning feet on the ground... or some form of ground anyway. She can still bend earth without martial arts, but it's severely limited. The speed at which she can bend earth is also heavily affected if she is unable to move, as her movements somewhat act as a catalyst for exerting kinetic energy through something. She doesn't need to have a lot of movement to make something move slowly, but if she wants to propel it through the air with actual speed, she needs her arms at the very least. Equipment: There's a make up kit in her bag as well as her actual outfit in the bag, but there's also a small badge in her bag that may be a reference to something greater... nah fam it's a franklin badge
Name: Jake Krain. Alias: The Outsider. Age: 19. Alignment: Hero. Loyalty: Minutemen. Appearance: Standing at 6'1 and weighing in at 171, Jake is a leanly muscled young man with a typically lazy posture and fairly relaxed, but oddly sinuous and predatory gait. He walks with an air of confidence and unintentional mystery, seemingly aloof, his gaze often appearing bored or disinterested. He's hard to read unless you know him well and he's the sort that most would call conventionally attractive. All in all he's a well built, but not muscly guy with a laidback look and a demeanor to match.
His costume consists of this outfit and a white mask that covers only his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Additionally he wears a pair of black and white gloves.
History:
Born alongside his twin sister, Ashlynn, to their single mother Jake grew up in a stable home with mother and sister both. Jake was what one might describe as an excitable and friendly kid. He did well in school—though not terribly far above average—though he was sometimes rather preoccupied or difficult to corral.
Around the age of 9 he expressed great curiosity regarding his father and that side of his family. His mother told him stories of the man and offered, when he was a bit older, to let him visit his relatives in Japan. He happily agreed, patiently studying the culture and the language over the next four years as something of an obsession while keeping correspondence with his grandparents overseas. Finally on his 13th birthday, his mother allowed him to travel to Kyushu, Japan where his grandparents lived.
As if he'd known them all his life, Jake took great delight in visiting them and quickly grew used to their company. One day, his grandfather decided to take Jake on a tour of the city. It was on that same day, while they were out on the town, that Leviathan attacked. With the city flooding, the two were pushed underwater as the water level rose and waves crashed into them, practically toppling a building on Jake's grandfather. With his grandpa pinned underwater, Jake was panicked, but tried to be brave like the heroes who fought nearby.
However, in an attempt to swim down to rescue his grandpa, Leviathan swam past him in the water and the beast's after-echo struck him hard, knocking the air from his lungs and slamming him back into an exposed pipe, which would have impaled him. However, perhaps out of luck, he triggered, causing his human body to swap out for the one he would one day term his “Second Vessel,” allowing him to survive being impaled by the metal pipe.
Scared, in pain, and confused, Jake instinctively thrashed and eventually pulled himself from the pipe, his body healing rapidly. He nearly balked and swam away, before the image of his grandfather, gasping for air, pulled him back.
So it was that he forced himself to swim towards the drowning man and extricate him from the collapsed building's wreckage. Once freed, he carried the man above water before—to his surprise—flying back to their home where he did his best to protect his grandmother as well. Eventually, the waves subsided, but the damage had been done.
It was hours before a rescue team came for them and it was not until he saw them in the distance that he moved out of sight and shifted back before joining his grandparents. Several days later the three were on a one-way trip to the states where they would stay.
Following the harrowing incident, Jake seemed quieter...withdrawn, but his sister—as she always had—helped him recover, though he would never be the same boy he'd been before Leviathan.
Time went on and the fear of his newfound powers grew less and less even as his curiosity rose—though both emotions were...less intense than he remembered them in the past. Like his powers, this would be just another thing he grew used to. No longer deterred by the watchful eyes of his grandparents—who had bid him not to use the frightening abilities—he began to experiment in secret. Of course, as with all things between twins, he couldn't keep it a secret from her for long.
So it was that throughout their adolescence and the drama of highschool the two practiced their abilities away from the city where prying eyes wouldn't see. This drew him and his sister closer than before, and so she would serve as one of few things that grounded his emotions and made him feel...well, somewhat more normal than he typically did among others.
With some rocky relationships in between, Jake and his sister eventually graduate high school with Ashlynn entering higher education, unlike him. He just didn't have the motivation or those sorts of aspirations it seemed—not anymore at least. Instead, he found himself a part time job, enjoying life as much as he could, and helping to support his family where he could.
More recently he's begun stretching his powers at night, taking out minor criminals, though never anything even vaguely high profile. He's been active for the last two months and has only had encounters with three other parahumans in that time. While he's remained essentially in the shadows, some rumors of a strange creature lurking in the night have begun to spread. While he knows otherwise...he hopes they're not about him.
Personality
Motivations: As per a promise he made to his grandfather, Jake, in all that he does, makes an honest attempt to leave things better than he found them. Beyond this he has a strong wish to protect those he cares about—especially since they are few in number.
Sexuality: Straight. Likes:
Girls with piercings.
Working out.
Parkour.
Coffee.
Curry.
Tea.
Dislikes:
People commenting on his other appearance.
Being inactive for long periods of time.
Cigarettes/smoke.
Monotony.
Boredom.
Dogs.
Derangement: Essentially, following his trigger event, Jake has felt more and more detached from reality, particularly the events and people around him on an emotional level. It became harder for him to form lasting emotional bonds or to just, well, care about most things. Additionally, he's noticed more and more that he only feels 'all there,' emotionally when utilizing his powers—and during a brief period of time after use as if a small part of him was cordoned off into his second body when he triggered.
While Jake has grown used to this, the activation of his power tends to cause an almost 'emotional high,' sometimes resulting in emotions becoming more intense in general—the reality being he's just experiencing the average intensity of human emotion which he is typically denied. Currently, Jake's working theory for why this happens is essentially as follows:
“When I triggered, I think my power cordoned off a small part of my psyche, allotting it to my Second Vessel so that when I inhabited it it wouldn't feel unfamiliar and unnatural, but instead would fit me like a glove. However, this appears to have resulted in a loss of emotional intensity in my...human half. Kinda sucks.”
Parahumanism
Skills: Having been practicing parkour for awhile, Jake is pretty good at getting through almost any environment with great efficiency. This also makes him a very athletic and somewhat acrobatic individual. Beyond this he knows how to throw a mean punch or kick properly, but he's certainly no martial artist.
Classification: Breaker|Brute|Mover. Details: Jake’s power affords him a subtly enhanced physical awareness and control, while sacrificing a measure of his emotional sensation. This emotional dampening is a side effect of his main power, which allows him to--at will--swap to a monstrous alternate form. This switch--whether from human to monster or the inverse--sends the unused body into another world, where it dwells in stasis. Inactive bodies are largely unaffected by time, but will heal as normal. In the case of his alternate form, known as his Second Vessel(SV), it will also ‘recharge’ its energy stores by absorbing the energy from light. When willed, Jake will swap to his Second Vessel, which causes a brief sense of nausea and disorientation that can be adjusted to, but not mitigated. What follows are the properties and capabilities of his Second Vessel.
Measuring in at 35 feet in length and 10 feet tall from ground to back, Jake’s Second Vessel is monstrous indeed. Sporting four arms and a host of prehensile tentacles, Jake has an even higher degree of dexterity and awareness in this form than when in his human body, allowing him to perform incredible physical feats. Among these feats are those of strength, as the sheer size and mass of his SV affords him rather considerable physical strength, allowing him to lift roughly 1.54 tons per limb, which with his 9 tentacles and 4 arms gives him a total lift strength of around 20 tons independent from his flight. Beyond this, the SV’s chitinous armor gives it something of an edge, allowing it to resist low caliber rounds, cutting implements and a measure of blunt force trauma. The natural armor is somewhat stronger than ceramic body armor, but with more impact absorption due to the nature of the material.
More central to his ability however, is the incredible metabolism of his Second Vessel, which generates not only copious amounts of biochemical energy, but also high voltages of bioelectricity. This energy goes on to fuel not only his regeneration, which allows him to easily recover from most surface damage or muscular tearing in seconds, but also his flight and kinetic barrier. In essence the energies are transmuted into potential energy, which then overflows from his body and flows along its surface. By intuitively controlling the speed and direction of this energy’s flow, Outsider can fly, turning on a dime or rapidly accelerating as needed. With this control, Outsider’s SV is capable of instantly accelerating from 0mph to 30mph after which his flight can propel him 15mph faster every second. Furthermore, as the potential energy on his body accumulates, it is compressed, forming a kinetic barrier roughly two inches away from his SV’s flesh.
The aforementioned barrier is primarily resistant to physical assaults, particularly impact force, as the more surface area struck in an individual impact, the easier the force is distributed and resisted by the barrier. Conversely, piercing and slashing attacks with sufficient force behind them are much more likely to break the shield. When broken, the shield shatters and disperses, reforming over the space of several seconds depending on how much damage was taken. The barrier is capable of resisting a significant amount of force, protecting him from most forms of physical damage.
Following from this barrier is the last kinetic manifestation of his power, which allows him to alter the flow of the potential energy around his body, focusing it in an area--or over his whole surface--and then release it in kinetic blasts of varying size and potency. These blasts act like shockwaves of invisible force, typically expanding from the point of impact as they disperse--though he can make them more focused and contained. The potency of a given blast depends on how long energy has been gathered prior to its release. The strongest blast that can be emitted without charge is capable of pushing a grown man off his balance and across a distance of eight or so feet and would be experienced as a force striking the whole surface of the body facing its point of origin.
Last among his SV’s capabilities are its senses, which include enhanced touch, drastically enhanced hearing, and the ability to detect magnetic fields and electrical impulses--natural and artificial. This electromagnetic sense allows Outsider to detect the aforementioned within a radius of roughly 264 feet. His hearing on the other hand is harder to quantify, but allows him to hear sounds more clearly and to filter sound to a limited degree. While physical structures exist to allow these sensory abilities, they are internal, and thus cannot be easily targeted.
Limitations: Possessing three particularly notable weaknesses, Outsider’s Second Vessel does have its downsides. First of these is its hearing, which--due to its sensitivity--is actually one of the few senses it has that can be used against it. Thus, particularly loud, high or low pitched, noises can be used as a painful deterrent against his form, causing pain and even a sense of nausea and discomfort. It should be noted that sound totally ignores his kinetic barrier, which reveals something about the shield’s nature as a primarily physical defense. Essentially, the kinetic barrier is only properly effective against physical assaults and is much less efficient and durable when attempting to defend Jake’s SV from energetic assault, including most lasers and electricity--though high ambient temperature or radiation will be warded off, unless significant temperature spikes or sufficient explosive force are utilized.
However, while the aforementioned details are certainly significant weaknesses, the biggest weak point of Outsider’s Second Vessel takes the form of a hyperdense crystalline ‘core’ located in the most armored portion of the form’s torso. This core is the only truly ‘vital’ part of his Second Vessel and if it is damaged, Jake will be shunted back into his body regardless of the current circumstances he is in. If the damage is minor, it will make the form unstable, perhaps causing unpredictable flickers back and forth between bodies. If moderate damage is sustained Jake will be shunted back into his human body at the time of the damage and a second or two following any attempt to switch forms. Any damage beyond this is considered major and will render his power unavailable until the damage is repaired. While such a scenario has clearly never occurred, the core can be completely destroyed and if this comes to pass the exact consequences are unknown.
While the body is not particularly damaged even by high voltages of electrical current, it can be distracting, unpleasant, and disorienting to have it channel through it.
The disorientation from switching bodies stacks, becomes more intense and deleterious the more times Jake swaps in a short period of time.
Cellphone: What it sounds like.
Disposable Prepaid Phone: A cellphone he uses sometimes when 'in costume' just so he can throw it away and not be tracked or the like.
Name: James Scott Alias: Jaunt Age: 35 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Loyalty: Protectorate Appearance: James is around 6' 1" (185cm) with hazel eyes. He is in excellent physical condition. James is very clearly black, and no one with common sense would confuse his ethnicity. His body is littered with scars, with a particularly strong concentration covering his legs. A prominent scar traces the left side of his jaw, and is almost impossible to miss. Despite his imposing figure, his presence is anything but. He seems to be the kind of person that stands next to someone important; not intimidating or good at capturing attention by himself. History: On May 3rd 1970 James Scott was born to two loving parents in a middle class neighborhood. His childhood in Denver was better than he would've thought to ask for, his parents always supportive. During elementary school James played every sport he could, though that got reduced to basketball and baseball during middle school. Competition more than skill kept James interested in these sports all the way to high school, though in his junior year he was dropped from both sports because of a leg injury. This shook Jame's confidence significantly, and during senior year he played no sports. Unfortunately his track record when it came to school was significantly worse than his athletic achievements.
The day before graduation James applied to and was accepted into the Army, deciding it was the best options considering how few Universities were available as an option. His service was less than remarkable, but he did well enough that he was able to leave the Army after five years with significant funds saved up. He headed back to Denver and had a brief fling with an old classmate before breaking up with her and applying to a position law enforcement. James was given a position which managed inventory, at his own request. During his three years at this job, under completely unprovable yet mysterious circumstances, various pieces of riot control gear went missing.
James met his wife during his third year as an employee of the police station. Christina Jones (who soon became Christina Scott after their marriage) was a secretary at the time. They hit it off instantly, both immediately falling for each other. James stubbornness was only matched by Christina's loving patience, and after two years together James proposed. Right after James and Christina met, James applied to be switched to an actual law enforcement position. For his loyal service he was immediately granted this request. Christina and James were married in the summer of 1996, three days after Jams turned 26. Christina, who was 29 at the time, was relieved to be married before she turned 30, though James hadn't even thought of it.
Employment as a police officer went superbly for James, as he quickly climbed the ranks, often being transferred to higher paying areas and positions. In the midst of planning for a kid, a routine doctors visit revealed Christina had almost certainly terminal brain cancer. Days passed with difficulty, as they both knew they hadn't have the funds to treat her. Resigned James watched his wife die before his very eyes. Visits to the hospital came and went, and within a year Christina didn't even recognize him anymore. James cried himself for sleep for months, until he finally stop telling her who he was. Christina's first guess, depending on the day, was normally that James was her father. Jame's wife passed away in the summer of 2003.
Time didn't seem to proceed after that, his life a well structured routine that only toiled away the days till his death. James never spent money on himself during this time, only storing it for a seemingly nothing. By sheer luck James discovered the existence of Cauldron, and tracked them down. After meeting with a contact, he paid the price to become a parahuman. Despite the funds he had accumulated, James still owes Cauldron a favor, as he didn't want to spend his entire livelihood on powers. Upon obtaining the artificial powers, James quit his job, made some adjustments to the riot agent gear he had knicked years ago, and started working for cash as a mercenary.
Personality
Motivations: it's not as simple as that, especially for James. He doesn't have a particular goal in mind in his day to day life, something he wakes up to with the idea of getting a step further in that direction. He lives, not quite for the experience of living, but because he wants to avoid the much more common alternative. Creature comforts could be one of the few things Jaunt genuinely strives for, but he doesn't get attached to them, just to what they provide. Sexuality: heterosexual Likes:
Gambling
TCGs
Competition in sports
Dislikes:
Stereotyping
Gender roles
Small talk
Derangement: There isn't much of a derangment when it comes down to it, as he did not trigger naturally. He has become more concerned with his general fitness, but that could hardly be called a derangment.
Parahumanism
Skills: James was been trained in various forms of self defense during his time in the service, and as a police officer. He has a strong mental fortitude, and is very good at intimidating those he needs to. Classification: Mover Details: James can teleport relative to earth to almost any location he has an understanding of the position of. Seeing a photograph of a place wouldn't be enough for him to teleport to said location, but a photograph and marked map would be. James is not bound by the Manton effect, and as such is able to teleport his own body into organic and inorganic surfaces. While making physical contact with someone James can choose to teleport with them, though he is not required to. James can also 'queue' teleports, choosing what locations to teleport to in sequence, though he only remains for a fourth of a second. There is time before his arrival after he teleports before his arrival, that grows larger the farther he is teleporting. The time between teleportation and arrival is measured in seconds and is about one-hundredth the linear distance in meters. During this downtime, James is suspended in a feeling of nothingness, not unlike a sensory deprivation chamber. Anyone James teleports also experience this loss of sensation, though it lasts longer for them than it does for James. Limitations: Jame's power damages his body (mostly his legs) as he teleports. It seems to do damage to his body as if he ran the distance, but with a significant reduction of one-fifth. It calculates the distance by drawing a line from his current position and his destination, without factoring in acceleration, terrain, or how damaged his body already is. Jame's power does give him a general sense of what kind of damage a teleport will do to him, but it is a very vague feeling and can be unreliable depending on the day. 'Queuing' teleports damages his body more (as if he ran one-fourth the distance as opposed to one-fifth). Teleporting inside an organic object is very likely to kill James, as he does not destroy organic matter he teleports into, but instead it mixes with his flesh. Teleporting his arm inside of somebody is almost certain to give him an infection, and without immediate surgery he would be very likely to die. Equipment: James has a full set of riot gear (w/o helmet) from his time as managing a specific station of Denver's police station's inventory. He wears a gas mask. A protective tinted shield covers his upper face, but it has a hole in the middle to go around the gas mask's filter while still protecting his cheeks. Jame's identity is masked by this dark glass, so it serves a dual purpose. The rest of his body is extremely armored restricting him from motions that are too fast, but also protecting him from small arms fire, and blunt force trauma. On top of all that it is quite intimidating.
In the way of weapons James has a compact baton, four tear gas grenades, and a Beretta 92 (Version A1) with an under mounted flashlight, and pepper spray.
Name: Linas Richards Alias: Exhale Age: 43 Alignment: Villian Loyalty: Independent Appearance: An older man, Linas finds himself not looking like his best as he slowly but surely reaches towards his twilight years. He is structured on a pretty average level, maybe just a bit more on the lankier side, but stands at the height of 5’11”. As with old age, Linas finds his short hair balding from the front leaving not much to look as it is starting to lose its color. He also sports a weak chin, generally making his appearance not his best trait. Costume-wise, Linas finds himself wearing his old lab clothing with a few modifications for combat. Mostly, what you would be seeing is his rather heavy white lab coat specifically made to resist minor explosions, heat, and generally a low caliber bullet or two. Underneath are some business casual clothing, fitted to act as minor cushions that are made from similar materials to his lab coat and finally wears a two piece gas mask with tinted black goggles. On his body as well are some bandoliers which can hold ten gas canisters and on his belt underneath his lab coat can hold at a maximum of five. History: As a young boy, Linas found himself not looking like the best kid around combined with his rather seclusive nature led kind of left a forgettable time of his life. The best that he can remember were his parents were busy with work at the lab, no one exactly bothered him in school, and his interest in chemical in nature started to sprout in his young mind. Both parents were known biologist in the scientific community, the pair were married and made a discovery here and there within their field. Linas was unexpected to the parents, he was an accident, but they didn’t want to be rid of him which caused a impermeable distance between parent and child. The only thing that Linas had found interesting with his parents was that while they were away on trips, he could experiment with their stuff which allowed him to get a better understanding of chemistry as he started to grow older.
Many years later, Linas had graduated at the top of his class from MIT with a doctorate in chemistry. Both parents were proud of their son, but the same distance still stood even with the achievements of their son. He was in his late twenties at this time, it didn't take too long to find some place to work with both his achievements and connections from his parents. He found his place of work within a military facility, it was highly funded, highly equipped, and full staffed lab which was all that he could ask for in his life. The job that the scientist were supposed to be achieving was creating better and effective medicine for combat purposes, but their true goal was to synthesize new deadly and potent gases to be used in black ops. Linas didn't mind much of this fact, even with his work being shoved under the rug by government, he was still getting paid an extreme amount of money and got to work at one of the most highly equipped labs in the world. It was his dream job, and coincidentally, was were he met his dream girl. The two married each other after a long period of time of awkward flirting, interesting research, and generally good fun between the two and their fellow members of the lab. This lasted for twenty years, their work of creating deadly combinations of chemicals never really phased the scientists too much as they worked, but soon enough their work caught up to them.
It was on one fateful day, the lab in itself was being moved towards another location and the scientist that had been faithfully working for years were moving as well. No one really gave it much thought, their work was dangerous so it was assumed that they were being moved in case of terrorist plots. Most of the big equipment has already been packed up, the facility was bare bones only leaving the scientist to pack up any personal items and data on further research. On the other side of the facility, there was a team of men ready to spill some blood. The government in itself were disguising this attack as a terrorist plot, the work of the scientist cover story on medical drugs was starting to wane every so slightly and little bits of their research was being suspected to the US. The scientist in themselves had become liabilities in their research, every single one knew too many secrets and were to eliminated to cover all bases for this extremely illegal work. They soon busted into the lab, five were dead on the first few seconds as everyone started to scatter away but all exits had been sealed right before the strike team had come for the kill. Linas and his wife hid away under some desk in the corner, the team were quick and efficient finding almost everyone in minutes executing everyone on site. It was only time until they found the two, dragging them out from under the desk, both kicking and screaming as they started to aim their sights. It only took one shot, blood splashed onto his face, and his screams soon turned deadly. A tasteless and odorless nerve toxin suddenly expunged from his lungs, the sudden burst filling the room at a such high concentration and potency had quickly and effectively killed the entire strike team in seconds. Everyone was dead now, Linas stared at his dead wife for what seemed like hours before looking at her murderers. He checked their bodies, trying to find anything that could relate to anyone, and as he removed their armor found the signs that these people were apart of the military that the group of scientist were working for. He started to hyperventilate, and soon streams of smoke exited his mouth and onto the bloodied floor, this surprised Linas greatly as he quickly covered his mouth thinking the smoke came from some other direction. However, as he uncovered his lips, small streams of smoke slowly trickled out. Linas was afraid, he looked at all the dead bodies in the room and soon dashed for the exit that had been previously blocked by the government officials.
It had been two years since his escape, Linas has been hiding for quite some time figuring out his newly found powers and from the government that wanted him dead. He was depressed for a long while, his powers had come in too late to save everyone and soon this turned into seething hate for everyone. He became bitter, and now his silent fury had gushed out too far and Exhale was created to solve his anger problems against the world.
Personality
Motivations: Revenge, everyone that works for the government is on his shit list. Sexuality: Heterosexual Likes:
Chemistry
Technology
Scientists
Classical Music
Books
Dislikes:
Government
Spicy Foods
Blood
Sexual Interest directed towards him
Derangement:Generally Linas has become much more aggressive from his previous mild-manner self, he can control it pretty well but sets off if anyone ever mentions his wife.
Parahumanism
Skills: Incredibly talented in his field, knows how to synthesize and increase potency of almost any chemical concoction even the deadly ones with normal methods. Increased lung capacity, can hold his breath and breath in more than the average person while training his power. Classification: Blaster Details: Exhale has the ability to create and rearrange any form of gas within his body and exhale it out in large quantities at any point of time. With his knowledge, Exhale knows how the create almost every toxic gases in the world and can even construct his own formulas if given enough time. He had also double triggered during his first trigger, allowing his body to cope with the extreme amount of deadly and fatal chemicals that are produced inside of his body. This means that he is able to resistant to any chemical concoction that is used on him without a single thought and immune to his own attacks. Limitations: Exhale's gases can't tell friend from foe and attacks generally everyone who isn't protected in some way or another. He also needs to inhale gases to change the composition and form making his power useless if you deprive him from his source of power but that would generally kill anyone if you took away all oxygen from the area. Equipment:
Name: Judah Raines Alias: Mantis Age: 27 Alignment: Anti-Hero Loyalty: Lethal Force Appearance: 6ft tall. Italian-Irish American. Dark brown hair cut very short. Five o clock shadow. Athletic build. Broad shoulders. A very focused look on his face. Wears black Nike shoes with a black expensive sport jacket and brown khaki pants casually. He wears a dark blue t-shirt underneath. His "super" outfit is his FBI body armor with the FBI conveniently covered over. He also wears a dark blue baclava with a white mantis's two arms crossed like swords on the front and a Mantis face above them resembling a jolly Roger. History: As a young man, Judah Raines, had a passion for defending his younger siblings from bullies. This passion carried on with him for the rest of his life. It drove him to join the Police at age of nineteen. After the designated two years on the force with an impeccable record, Judah applied for SWAT in the Denver CO area. Being one of the top students he was initiated into their ranks. He proved himself an able member and became proficient in a range of firearms as well as breaching techniques. After three years of excellent service, he was transferred to the counter terrorism unit in Denver. It was then he applied to the FBI to become a counter terrorism specialist. It was his dream after all.
In one of his first assignments a man had allegedly rigged a building to explode and had multiple hostages within it. Judah volunteered to take point in the mission, the most dangerous position. His teammates threw a flashbang through the window and he kicked the door in. There was no one immediately there. After clearing the room they went on to the next one down the hall. Knocking that door open revealed a man holding a woman as hostage with a detonator in his hand. "Don't move or this whole place goes sky high!" Judah responded as calmly as he could lowering his weapon,"What do you want?" He yelled,"I want to make an impact!" "That's a very millennial thing to want to do," Judah replied,"Why don't we talk by putting our weapons down first?" Judah laid his weapon down. The man looked confused for a second. He's never seen anyone respond to his crazy demands like that.They talked for about twenty minutes, Judah listening intently as if the man, who he knew now as Sam, had been a dear friend. Sam slowly loosened his grip on the weapon and the woman who had been trembling earlier. Now though, she seemed almost interested in the conversation. Near the end Sam asked Judah to visit him in prison. Judah agreed. Afterward he gave the detonator and the woman up. He was quickly cuffed and led away. The cops were very impressed. It turned out to only be a false alarm, that the man was crying out for attention. Judah was still true to his word though.
The FBI saw Judah as a great asset and quickly interviewed him. He was brought into their ranks at the age of 25 and sent overseas to work with their Israeli allies. It was there he learned Krav Maga. It was also there after 6 months that he witnessed his first suicide bombing in an airport. He lost some good friends on that mission. Without his team he felt lonely and isolated from the rest of the country. Though they were allies they were not family and Judah missed his. It was during the next year and a half that Judah fell into depression. He longed for human contact and intimacy, but could not reach out for help.
He continued his unforgiving work schedule in order to distract himself from the pain. He took to alcohol as well. One night at his lowest point he seriously contemplated suicide. That's when they got a call of man who was suicidal. He went to the scene and his words were not good enough to break through the man's self-harming thoughts. Before the man pulled the trigger on his gun, Judah willed in his mind, thinking"Life is worth living!!" At the guy. The sheer pain and hopelessness in that situation awoke in Judah the ability to impart thoughts in others as well as feel others moods and emotions. The man stopped suddenly and dropped his arm holding the gun. He then raised it slowly and fired at the team. Mantis then shot him through the chest with his Mp5k submachine gun. He had no idea what happened at the time, though he would never be the same.
A few weeks later he transferred back to co Denver. There he rejoined with the FBI there. He taught a Krav Maga class to the men he served with. Something was different now though. He didn't just stop drinking and feeling depressed, he felt empowered and emboldened in his roll as a leader among men. With his newfound abilities, the possibilities were vast. Some thought later, Judah wished to stop crime not only on missions as FBI, But in the mind where crimes are conceived. Sure, it may be unethical to manipulate others into doing the right thing; but someone has to show them the way. Judah took his uniform and a baclava he had custom made. He tweaked his look to resemble his flowing style. He would now call himself, Mantis, giver of wisdom.
Personality
Motivations: He wishes to end blatant crime by first, diplomacy. If that doesn't work, mind powers. Finally, physical confrontation. One of his primary motivations is to transform former criminals into law-abiding citizens. This is likely just wishful thinking, but with his powers it may be possible. Creating a task force for order and discipline, in the chaos that is Denver, is another ambition of his. Sexuality: Straight Likes:
Order/Peace, discipline, camaraderie, good conversation
Derangement: Due to his newfound ability, Judah has a hard time trusting people deeply. On the surface he does well but on the inside he rarely shows himself. In fact, many times he finds himself influencing others subconsciously to agree with him. The need to be in control is a direct manifestation of the power of thought implantation. Being in need of control has affected Judah into resisting hierarchies and authority over himself. He finds it very difficult to follow orders from others.
Parahumanism
Skills: Martial artist: Spending years training in Israel gave Judah the skills necessary to be an expert at the art of Krav Maga. The speed in which he can disable or kill an opponent is exceptional and he learns more constantly. He currently teaches classes in Denver on his time off.
Negotiator: Years spent in hostage negotiations have left Judah with the skills to prevent conflict.
Firearms: He is very proficient in a wide variety of firearms and specializes in submachine guns.
Charismatic: Was born with a certain charm about him. It's hard to dislike this guy!
Reflexes: His years of training in martial arts as well as counter-terrorism measures have given Judah an almost inhuman reaction time. Before he knows what he's doing he can act.
Crowd control: Spending time in SWAT has trained Judah to be able to deal with unruly crowds non lethally.
Interrogation: Is able to extract information fairly easily using mind powers and diplomatic tactics.
Tactics: Skilled in the art of combat maneuvers, strategy, squad tactics, etc.
Classification:Master, Thinker Details: Judah is able to implant thoughts and/or feelings into other living beings. He is able to discern what someone is feeling as well. His thought and feeling implants are not limited to general ideas and feelings. The more Mantis concentrates on a target the more specific the thoughts and feelings can be up to literal words and phrases. He can also influence a wide range of people, however, the thoughts and feelings are general in specificity at that scope. He is also not limited to humans only. He can influence animals and creatures using emotional manipulation. Thought manipulation is much more difficult for that. Perceiving animal feelings is simple enough. His feeling sensors are subconsciously active. He can choose to set them aside if they are too distracting as well. He can detect fear, anger, sadness, joy, and other basic emotions within his one block vicinity. If he concentrates he can almost see the emotions and their location. Though it leaks like a gas and cannot be pinpointed more accurately than a fifteen foot radius at longer distances. At closer ranges he can specifically see the emotions emanating from exact people.
Limitations:Manton Effect. His mind abilities are limited to one block in all directions. The further away, the less influence and reads. If someone is extremely practiced in mind durability and defense, it is extremely hard for Mantis to influence as strongly. Unless Judah keeps his own strong feelings in check, they will leak out and be felt by everyone/thing in the immediate vicinity.
Second Trigger
Classification: Master, Thinker, Trump. Details: Judah's abilities underwent a transformation which greatly increased the power of emotional and thought manipulation in living things around him. Feelings of terror, fury, helplessness and the like are magnified overwhelmingly. Easily dropping opponent's to their knees in terror or sending the most calculated individual into blind rage within the immediate vicinity.
Judah's power also inflicts a Trump aspect on those who are hit with his overwhelming suggestions. Targets lose fine control over their powers. In contrast they become more destructive. Sacrificing control for more power without consent.
Limitations: Manton Effect. His sensory input is much less precise. Only able to pick up on flashes of emotion in others or areas. Murkier and messier than before. His fine control about knowing what is being felt precisely is gone. His thought implantation is limited to vague, intense phrases which are extremely difficult to resist. His area of control is reduced from one block to 50ft in all directions.
Equipment: Mp5 submachine gun with extended mags, military grade combat knife, gas mask, filters, FBI body armor and uniform, helmet, 1911 side arm with mags. He wears the FBI issued uniform with FBI covered up in addition to a blue baclava with a white Mantis head and crossed arms like a jolly Roger. Black combat boots, flashbang grenades, tear gas canisters, smoke grenades, and his own self.
Name: Ryan Dwyer Alias: Heartless Age: 18 Alignment: Villain Loyalty: The Jacks Appearance: Ryan has naturally black hair but has taken to dying it blue after graduating from high school. He has blue eyes and is very light skinned, as he doesn't get outside much. His height sits at 5'8 and he is 140 pounds even. Ryan typically wears lots of long clothing, trying to show as little skin as possible no matter the weather. His favorite accessory is a pair of wireless headphones that his mom gave him on his 18th birthday.
As his alter ego Heartless he wears a black leather jacket with a heart shaped hole cut out over his heart, revealing a stylized heart on top of a red long sleeved shirt. On his lower body he's wearing black jeans with several pockets for holding things and a pair of black combat boots. To cover his head he has a black motorcycle helmet with seemingly glowing yellow eyes (courtesy of an unnamed Tinker he payed).
History: Ryan's parents divorced when he was 7, leaving him with a single mother and a father who rarely appeared in his life at a time where he needed a father figure. His mother was worked to the bone trying to support them, leaving Ryan home by himself most nights with whatever he could occupy himself with. He didn't have a bad life by any means, his mother would always get him the latest video game consoles for his birthday or whatever new clothing he needed. He just never had any friends to share those cool things with. It made him depressed, he didn't eat or sleep much. He had no idea why nobody wanted to be friends with him and at his young age he was convinced that he looked weird or something. Nobody ever told him otherwise so he started wearing lots of clothing that covered him up so people wouldn't have to look at him.
As he floated through school he was picked on because of his meek attitude and lack of resistance, the bullying escalating through the years. First it was small things like hiding his stuff, taking pencils, teasing him about how pale and skinny he was. Eventually he was having lunch money taken from him, getting shoved in the hallways, juice poured on his books. He hated it. He eventually had to run home from the bullies who had gotten so used to destroying both his property and his confidence. All he ever did was run from his problems, delaying them until the next day.
It all came to a climax during his senior year in high school when a couple of drunk assholes (he would later find out one of them had turned 18 and they were celebrating) grabbed him on his way home and locked him in an abandoned shed for 3 days. They forgot about him during his hangover, leaving him with no food or water and only his thoughts. On the night of the 3rd day he Triggered, starving to the point where he was hallucinating that he was alone in the universe, each second felt like an eternity as he struggled with his isolation from the world. He couldn't see himself in the darkness, but he could only imagine he looked uglier and dirtier with every passing second. He imagined himself becoming more and more emaciated eventually dying and turning into a skeleton who nobody would recognize or care about. Ryan couldn't let himself die like this, he had to escape and see his mom. Find hos dad one day and make up for lost time. Get revenge on the people who did this to him. He needed to get out. Ryan threw himself against the walls as he tried to escape, cutting his forehead open as he smashed into the walls over and over. Then he threw himself against the wall one more time, but this time he didn't feel any impact. He became one with the shadows, moving through them to a nearby hospital. He was starved and on the brink of death, taking a week to recover in a semi-conscious state as he dreamed of his tormentors and his hatred for them.
After he got out and had a talk with his mom about what was happening he began to experiment with his newfound powers in secret. He found that he could take things with him into the dark, that he was undetectable by people and cameras. He could even become a shadow itself, plastering himself onto walls to become a shadow without an owner. He wasn't just a shadow though, he could do so much more. He had power. With this power came confidence. He slowly began sneaking into places and looking around. Then he started taking small things, like pencils. Then bigger things like games. Eventually he was committing full blown larceny as he fashioned a shroud of darkness around his head to hide his face as he stole from stores.
Eventually Ryan came clean to his mom about his powers and what he had been doing. He was going to make a new life for them, they didn't have to worry about money any more. She didn't have to work long nights anymore. They could be happy. She was horrified by his deeds, screaming and demanding he turn himself in. She refused to live a life that was built on crime, believing that nothing good could ever come of it. Ryan ran away from home that night, living in motel rooms and in empty rooms in houses. He kept going to school until graduation, but only because he felt like he had to for some reason. Ryan wasn't going to turn himself him in. His mom was wrong, crime payed as long as you weren't caught. And he would never be caught. Ever.
Personality
Motivations: Ryan lives for his own happiness and comfort, he's willing to do anything if it secures his long and short term needs/wants. And he's gonna take the easiest path to said needs and wants. Sexuality: Heterosexual Likes:
Money
Video Games
Anime
Technology
Dislikes:
Alcohol
Being Alone
Sports
Derangement: Tends to unconsciously drift towards darker areas of wherever he is.
Parahumanism
Skills: When he was 14 he took a year's worth of self defense classes, so he can defend himself against a normal person in hand to hand combat. Ryan has trained himself to lockpick basic locks, most valuable stuff is behind locked doors. He also practices with the butterfly knife, he's getting pretty good at it honestly. On the mundane side of things he is great at video games and is a very quiet person even without powers. Classification: Mover/Breaker/Changer Details: Ryan is a living shadow, able to plaster himself onto walls, ceilings, and floors to move in 2D environments. This also makes his biology fundamentally different from normal humans, when he's on the field he makes sure he is pure darkness. This means he doesn't breath, have a heat signature, or bleed. He can still be detected through sight and sound if he makes noise, but its veru hard to detect him. He can also travel through shadows that are touching each other, such as moving into the shadow of a building which is being cast into a jewelry store and then moving into the shadow of a cash register and finally grabbing all the jewels he can carry. Anything he has with him can turn into a shadow with him so he isn't just leaving all of his stuff behind whenever he moves. Conventional attacks are pretty useless as well, you ever tried punching a shadow? Limitations: The things he can carry are limited to a large suitcase, he can't steal an entire car full of gold or anything like that. He's also just as weak as a normal human, albeit an above average human who has practice carrying large backpacks full of cash. His biggest weakness is probably the most obvious one though, he's extremely vulnerable to intense lights. He's not going to die from going outside by any means, but even something like a bright flashlight is gonna make him hurt a lot. A spotlight might even outright kill him. Equipment: Heartless always keeps 2 phones on him, you'd be surprised how useful a ringing phone is in distracting a guard away from a cash register or jewelry display. He also keeps a small handgun on him if he really gets into trouble, so far he hasn't had to use it once. He also uses throwing knives and butterfly knives he buys online.
Swarm's physical appearance in the persona of Damien
Name: Barry Reeves, Damien, Gabriel, Wesley, Ms.Faulkner Alias: Swarm Age: 38 Alignment: Other Loyalty: Independent Appearance: Barry is disheveled, unkempt with dark circles under his eyes. Damien is a middle-aged man who wears dark fancy suits and smokes constantly. He rarely smiles.Gabriel(Gabe) grins and smiles frequently. He most often wears bright colored clothing. Wesley wears baseball caps, and carries around a Gameboy Advance SP (silver), with Pokemon Gold. Ms. Faulkner wears teacher's shaped glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose.
History: Barry had a very complicated childhood. It involved neglect, abuse and isolation primarily through his angry, intimidating father, Damien. He would beat him often, and would smoke all the time. His mother died in childbirth. In school, his 4th grade teacher Ms. Faulkner, chided him constantly regarding his bad grades and short attention span. This only furthered his emotional issues and he came to loathe the woman. The teacher's pet, Wesley, liked to rub his privilege in Barry's face. Because of his father's large contributions to the building of their school, he was given preferred treatment. Wesley, would lash out in the middle of class and the normally strict Ms. Faulkner, would coddle him rather than discipline the child. Wesley didn't study well, but played baseball and dreamed of one day becoming a pro pitcher for the New York Yankees.
At one point in middle-school, he was taken into the councilor's office for an argument he'd had with another student. It was in this time that the councilor realized, Barry, had early manifestations of a disassociation disorder. He would talk by himself and reply back as if he was answering questions. After putting him on some powerful medications, he seemed to improve. The death of his dad in a drunk driving accident had something to do with that.
During the next few years he studied hard. He wished to help design buildings and that required schooling. More specifically, structural engineering. He attended Purdue University and received his master's degree within a few years in the very subject. During this learned basic Muai Tai, under an instructor. After that point, he got a job at a company who designed blueprints for builders to construct. In order to save money on the cost of their design, they decided to use "building grade material" to construct the ten story building. Barry realized this was a huge issue. Some of the materials had the potential to catch fire quite easily. He brought it up at a meeting, but was swiftly shot down by the head designer. He was a very charismatic and crafty man named Gabriel. He planned on the building's collapse in order to claim the huge insurance policy on it. Barry wouldn't let up on the issue, so Gabriel sent him home without pay for three months. He came back like a whipped dog.
When it was time to tour the finished building, a year later, Gabriel stayed home citing illness. Barry did not know this and assumed that if Gabriel came with them, there would be no risk of danger because people aren't usually suicidal..he only found this out mid-way through the tour. Knowing where the weakness was, Barry took the elevator down to the parking garage. What he saw confirmed his suspicions. The walls were covered in a wet substance and a fire had already broken out. The main support pillars lit up and started crumbling away. Knowing the building was coming down shortly, Barry went back up the elevator and out the front door, as smoke followed him. As he ran, he heard a loud roar. He turned around to see the entire building collapsing on itself downward. He fell over and some debris descended towards him. He raised his arms over his face and the materials stopped in mid-air. Barry, was dumbfounded. The building continued to collapse and a shock wave sent a large object directly at Barry. Once again it stopped. Even the dust did not cover Barry, but formed a dome all around him. Then a baseball sized slab of material came right through and smacked Barry on the side of his head. He was knocked unconscious. When he came too he was covered in what had stopped above himself earlier. Holding the gash in his head he left for medical attention. But, something was different now. The trauma of watching hundreds of people die in deliberate destruction as well as the hit to his head, shattered Barry's dissociation disorder. It had fractured further. The people who impacted his life (negatively) had already left an impression. Now, they had become part of his mind. Damien, Gabriel, Wesley and Ms. Faulkner were apart of him now. Barry, was no longer an individual..they were one. They were Swarm.
Personality
Motivations: Barry wants to regain control of his mind, but also wants to be taken seriously and listened to. This conflict is very apparent in their interactions. The others all desire to be heard and valued for their voices and knowledge in order to prevent other people's mistakes. The way they go about acquiring a platform to speak and be heard differs greatly. Some use their extensive knowledge and charisma to keep their listeners captivated. One resorts to tantrums and anger to be heard. Finally, intimidation, power, and respect are very attractive options to another. Sexuality: N/A Likes:
Structural engineering
Being heard
His personas
Destruction/Intimidation
Power/Authority
Smoking
Fancy suits
Bright colors
Influencing others
Firm handshakes
Fun and games
Baseball
Throwing things
Discipline/Order
Classical music
Teaching
Dislikes:
His personas
Falling
Smoking
Weakness
People
Tall buildings
Stupidity
Confrontation
Stains
School
Homework
Not getting his way
Loud noises
Disorder
Violence
Derangement: Because of the horrible trauma Barry received during his trigger event, his disassociation was exacerbated even further. His personality shattered into four distinct personalities with their own; likes, dislikes, motivations and skills. Even abilities Barry never acquired came to the different personas. As for Barry, he was sidelined, replaced by Swarm. He is able to regain control at times, though his memory of the previous events is foggy at best and non-existent at worst.
Parahumanism
Skills: Structural engineering- With a master's degree in structural engineering, Barry knows how a buildings are designed and the materials that make them. Basic Muai Tai- He knows basic self defense from classes he's attended over the years. High Intelligence- With all of his schooling and learning, Barry is well-versed in many topics. Focus- Barry is very focused. When he has a goal he goes after it. Advanced Muai Tai- Damien has all the techniques Barry learned in classes but with much greater proficiency, primarily offensive. Intimidation- With a sinister glare, an evil look, Damien, is able to make others fear without trying. Charisma- Gabriel is very likeable and wins others over with a firm handshake and a genuine smile. Public Speaking- Gabriel is as good as the best politicians when it comes to public speaking, with all that entails; lies, false promises and the rest. Baseball- Wesley is very good at the game of baseball, able to hit, catch and throw well. Video Games- He loves to play a wide assortment of games, mainly Nintendo. Teaching- Ms.Faulkner is a great teacher, complete with repetition, discipline and a commanding voice.
Classification: Shaker Details: Swarm is capable of exerting 15,000 pounds of force at any given moment within a 30 foot radius telepathically. This includes; throwing, moving, lifting, stopping, slowing any non-living matter within his 30 foot radius. Some offensive applications of this would be to; throw a two ton object at twenty miles per hour; throw/fire seven bullet-like objects 800 mph at once and strangle people using the very clothes on their backs. Some defensive applications include force fields and stopping objects in mid flight. Stopping bullets, explosions, rockets, gases, and anything that is not the speed of lasers/light under 15,000 pounds of force.
Limitations: Manton effect. They are incapable of effecting any area outside of their 30 foot radius. They are able to throw things out of it, however. Each persona of Swarm has their own limitations unique to them excluding, Damien. Barry is limited to 7,500 pounds of possible pounds of force. Gabriel can only use their powers defensively. Wesley, only aggressively. Ms. Faulkner can only hold others in place, binding people with non-living objects, including their own clothes. Being Barry's embodiment of unbridled passions and power, Damien is the only persona not limited. Once the pounds of force threshold is met, any further force will break through their force fields. Their power is oftentimes balanced between offensive and defensive capabilities. While throwing projectiles, the force expended as well as the force field used for blocking incoming attacks, cannot exceed their power threshold. If this occurs, all new attacks will break through. This power threshold regenerates every couple of seconds allowing for gaps in the defense when it is fully expended. Beams of energy and light are unaffected by the force fields. Mind altering powers are equally unaffected.
Name: Chris Lange Alias: None Age: 15 Alignment: Villain Loyalty: Independent Appearance: Chris has long, thick, red hair, somewhere between wavy and straight. It rests just above her lower back when not tied up. She normally keeps it in a ponytail, if its even visible within the dark green hoodie she normally wears. Chris is pretty short, standing at 5' 2", with a very young face befitting her age. Her normal expression around strangers is obvious discomfort, and she has a hard time warming up to people.
Chris is only touchy with people she wants to manipulate, of whom the number is expanding. Chrissie is noticeably thinner than most girls her age. Chris's ethnicity seems to be Irish, and her face is without freckles unlike her fathers. She very recently created a mask out of paper mache to hide her identity if need be. The mask is a bright red mixed with striking blacks, and looks to be a demons face. She sometimes carries it in her purse, though it is a bit bulky and she has been known to leave it at home. History: Chris grew up in a middle class family in Denver her entire life, with a caring father and a mother. Though her father very rarely talked about it, he was in fact a super powered individual, though his power was fairly innocuous. The basic set of better sight, balance and the rest. He never had any aspirations of being a cape, and didn't so much settle for mediocrity but preferred it. The expression of his power was found in the minutest details, such as pointing out owls that were very hard to make out on a cold night, or catching a jar of jelly Chris accidentally bumped off the table.
Her mother on the other hand was not super powered in the slightest (through Chris's comments about her being super bitchy could be misinterpreted). Her mother was a drinker, but not in the fun party kind of way, but in the not so fun, drinks and abuses the gentle giant that is Chris's 6' 4" father. In this way, Chris's father's gentle nature got the best of both him and his daughter, forcing her to grow up in a less than ideal situation. At the point where panic attacks becoming a major issue for Chris, her father divorced Chris's mother. Too little too late, though Chris would never admit it.
Schooling went rather poorly for Chris as she never applied herself, or found within herself the motivation to succeed though she did keep high enough grades to pass her classes if just barely. Slowly Chris developed a tight knit group of friends that she could enjoy the presence of. They'd always see her as the outsider of the group, and she didn't seem to mind.
Beginning around January of 2005, when Chris's mother started 'stalking' her. The disgruntled parent ended up kidnapping Chris. causing her to trigger. The direct personal relationship, mixed with the direct nature of the threat greatly influenced the expression of her father's power. Where enhancement of physical and mental prowess was the name of the game for her father, Chris's power revolved around manipulating others senses, and changing their perception of the world, After Chris's trigger, she got a hand on her mother and forced her to crash the vehicle, killing her mother on impact, and leaving herself (fortunately) unharmed.
The adaption to home life after her trigger event was hard, and she didn't find herself confiding in her father like she thought she would. Instead she kept it a secret, and started rebelling more in general, putting undue pressure on her father. The only kind of crimes she has committed involve gaining entry to clubs she normally wouldn't be allowed to enter. As such she hasn't gotten a cape name, though she has been getting more adventurous with her power usage recently.
Personality
Motivations: Chris takes part in her villainous ways as a sort of catharsis, using the heinous (and less than heinous) acts as an outlet for her stress. Sexuality: Chris hasn't quite developed her sexuality fully. She is experimental right now. Likes:
Scary movies
Socializing with close friends
Traditional hip-hop
The Beatles
Paper mache
Dislikes:
School
'Fake' friends
Disingenuous people
Jocks
Derangement: Chris sometimes has a hard time grasping what is real and what isn't. This can vary in intensity from becoming a little off balance to full grown panic attacks. This is mixed with, in an ironic fashion, hallucinations of her own. Chris takes Xanax every morning to try to combat this, and carries a couple extras just in case she feels a panic attack coming on.
Parahumanism
Skills: Chris has fairly decent memory, and has gotten pretty good at deceiving people. She has been practicing her sleight of hand, and is able to easily socially engineer most people into letting her touch them, even if it's only the slightest brush. Classification: Stranger and striker Details: Chris can, upon creating physical contact with a person's clothes or body, make them hallucinate. These hallucinations are precise, and can be molded to fit what Chris wants to achieve. She can force one to experience touch, vision, kinesthetic, and auditorial hallucinations with pin point accuracy to their real life counter parts. Once she touches you, unless you know what is coming, she has hijacked your brain for her insane joyride.
Chris can also remove sensations, making it seem like she stopped touching the person, or remove the pain from a bullet wound. Chris has a very slight thinker ability, in the way that she can multitask for each person she is forcing to hallucinate, though the individuals hallucinations do suffer in quality because of this. Limitations: Although Chris goes to agonizing lengths to ensure her hallucinations are accurate, she is severely limited in terms of control. She can't literally force someone to move, speak, or anything of that sort. At best she inspires reactions, and doesn't create them. Chris's hallucinations also immediately stop once contact ends, with practically zero time between.
These limitations mean that once she starts making someone hallucinate something complex or especially dangerous, she has to get a very good grip on them, and be prepared for them to fall. Though it may seem to the person she is touching that they have been pushed back thirty feet into a wall, in reality they're flailing around on the ground.
Chris also has a hard time creating things from scratch. She can choose to make a feeling persist (like the sensation of her victim standing on their feet looking down a corridor not going away while their being handcuffed), she can't make the feeling of being shot with a laser perfectly accurate.
As a final point, Chris can make multiple people hallucinate at once, though this will quickly lead to a backfire and a massive headache. The longest she has managed to maintain a hallucination is thirty minutes, at which point she started to develop a headache. This time limit exponentially lowers the more people she is forcing to hallucinate, and the accuracy of the hallucinations suffer as well. If she uses her power for thirty minutes in one day she will start to develop a headache, and if she persists her power will backfire, leading to migraines, loss of consciousness, and dizziness. Equipment: A straight razor, and a garrote she made out of piano wire and two pieces of wood.
Appearance: Jason is an abnormally large man. Standing at just under seven feet (6' 10" to be exact) Jason towers over most everyone else. Having a large physique on top of his height and Jason cuts an intimidating sight. Jason weighs around 240 pounds, and the vast majority of that weight is visibly muscle. Jason spouts white hair, which is dyed.
Jason's normal clothing is comfortable, as there is no way to be truly inconspicuous given his physique. He wears a nice long sleeve shirt, relatively tight with the sleeves rolled up to near his elbows. His pants are black slacks, comfortable enough to run in if needed. Meanwhile, to anyone who would actually notice, Jason wears grey running shoes.
His costume, in contrast, is meant to strike concern in his foes. While similar to a black suit, there is obviously a layer of armor over most of his body. He wears a helmet, very similar in appearance to a skull, that protects his head from harm and helps minimize sounds. A lightning bolt is emblazed upon the front of his helmet and the back of his armor.
After the Warehouse job, Jason updated his helmet to be sound proof with a built in communications system.
History: Jason had a relatively normal childhood, minus his father. The man was hardly ever in his life, but when he was he was a terror to the boy. Constantly drunk or strung out on some drug, John Rowly was an emotional, physical, and verbal abuser. Those nights, and occasionally days, were easily the worst for Jason. Beyond that, or perhaps because of that, Jason never did well in school. He suffered from barely passing grades, a lack of motivation, and a generally paranoid behavior.
The only counter to this Jason had was sports, to which he signed up for many. While not very good at most of them, he learned quickly and ironed. He was shunned somewhat by the teams, however, since his mother was barely covering the bills. The only way he got to play, therefore, was charity events that helped the less fortunate get into sports.
This was his life until he turned eighteen. Unable to move out after graduation due to terrible trouble getting a job (and an unwillingness to let his mom deal with his father solo), Jason's life did not improve. No longer able to take sports as an outlet, Jason took up exercise on a daily basis. With his towering build, and growing muscle mass, he soon began to build the courage to stand up for himself to his father after several more years of the same routine over and over.
That was a bad day. November 12, 2004. Jason, now almost 24 (his birthday being January 4th), attempted to get his father to leave him and his mother for good. His father returned that night, raging, and immediately set himself upon his son with a knife in hand.
Moments away from being stabbed to death, his father yelling and punching, Jason felt fear like never before. As the knife plunged into his arms, several times, he felt like his mind would break before his body fully did. He so desperately wanted to flee, to escape this knife and his father, before he died. The fear mounted with each passing second.
That was when he triggered, the knife no longer penetrating his skin afterwards. Consumed by rage and pain, Jason struck his father. Grabbing the man and tossing him, Jason continued his attack. Each blow sent his father flying into the wall until he laid dead on the floor. This did not stop the rage fueled Jason, however, as he continued to hit the lifeless body.
Since that day, Jason has changed. A constant fire stays lit inside of him, and the desire to never be poor or broken again remains his driving force. Having pulled many small range theft jobs, as well as robbing an armored truck once, Jason carries cash on him at most times.
Early on he began using his ill gotten money to buy custom built pieces for his costume from many different sources. Always paying in cash, never giving any more information than necessary.
During that very last heist on the truck, Jason publicly proclaimed himself as Thunderbolt.
Personality
Motivations: Jason is motivated by money and the opportunity to prove himself in a fight. However those get achieved, preferably together, Jason doesn't mind.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Likes:
Fighting
Money
Owning nice things
Innuendos
Freedom
Dislikes:
Guns
Do-gooders types
Holier than though types
Lazy people
Laws
Drug users
Drunks
Derangement: Jason has become extremely violent since his trigger, and beyond that he has a hard time knowing when to quit. When he gets running, so to speak, he just continues to ramp up until the problem is solved by being destroyed.
Parahumanism
Skills:
Jason is proficient in several martial arts styles. He couldn't tell you what they are, however.
Brute strength, given his workout routine
Enhanced stamina, due to him always running around
Analytical, good at figuring out where best to hit things to make them break, fall, or come apart through logical deductions and guesswork
Most sports, such as basketball, running events, and boxing
Classification: Brute and Striker / Mover
Details: When Jason touches anything, he can make the conscious choice to reduce that objects mass factor to near zero. So while his strength stays the same (albeit still incredible compared to normal levels), his punches after initial contact become incredibly dangerous, allowing him to smash through things or to send things flying.
He can also activate the ability on himself, granting a great increase to mobility from incredible jumps to increased speed.
The Brute aspect is an enhanced durability, allowing him to tank damage with reduced harm to his body. This is a direct relation to his mass reduction abilities. So he's naturally locked in a state of extreme mass creating super durability via density (but conscious application of his power to get the extra mobility nullifies said durability as a logical extension of removing said mass).
Limitations: Jason's abilities require at least five seconds of continuous contact to activate, and requires his focus to even start activating. Meaning he can't just touch something and accidently drop it's mass factor.
Beyond that, the mass factor change only lasts five seconds, after it either leaves his touch or he deactivates his ability.
When applied to himself, it lasts until he chooses for it to end, but this leaves him greatly vulnerable as it removes has Brute aspect of his power.
Any object smaller than a bus is affected by the mass change in it's entirely, while anything larger only has the area of an average SUV affected.
His defensive ability is always active, but only protects his external skin. His eyes, and internal parts, are not any different from a regular persons. Beyond this, Jason can take damage from many guns at close range, and high caliber bullets have a much easier time beating his ability.
Equipment: Entirely dependent on the job he's hired to do.
Appearance: Lillian is a petite, cutesy little girl. Brown hair that reaches her shoulder blades that she keeps tied in a ponytail with two stands left out to frame her face. Her eyes are deep blue, full of life and curiosity. She's not exactly short, given her age, standing at 4'11" and weighing about a hundred pounds.
Her usual wear is a plated skirt, dark in color, and a solid colored T-shirt. Tennis shoes and pink ankle socks are visible her feet. She almost always carries a little stuffed bunny or bear with her, named Bun Bun and Brownie respectively.
Prior to joining the Wards, she had no costume.
After joining, she has adopted a more durable version of her normal outfit, with shorts under her skirt. To protect her face she wears a simple mask styled with what appears to be scales. (under change)
When transformed, she looks like a T-Rex, just of varying sizes.
History: Lillian was born into a mildly wealthy family, the third and youngest child of two lawyers. Given their profession, Lillian rarely saw her parents and was raised more from a in-house nanny as a direct result. There was little solace at home, often being a lonely place given the age difference between her and her twin brothers. As such her early years were unremarkably boring, uninteresting, and so very lonely.
But Lillian found respite at a young age, seven to be exact, in gymnastics. It was an outlet, an enjoyable experience, and it afforded her the chance to not be so lonely. But Lillian suffered from a timid personality in social interactions, and remained a very lonely child.
School was much of the same. Being an average student in a private school, forever struggling to hold up to her family's expectations and being under her brothers' shadows. Her social awkwardness left her a bit of an outcast, and she found herself constantly a subject of ridicule for not fitting in. Over the years this began to pull Lillian into a deep pit of self doubt and anxiety.
Early in 2005, Lillian being fourteen now, things escalated quickly. Over a few weeks she started to suffer from stomach aches and migraines on a regular basis from stress. She was never going to be good enough, she told herself. Never pretty enough. Never smart enough. And the pains got worse.
The taunting at school, the lack of support at home, and being cut from the gymnastics team from her performance degrading from her stress and anxiety snapped something in Lillian. Locked in her room, crying to herself late at night, Lillian took a leap. She felt like more of a child than ever before, with no future to hope for. And so she snuck out of the house once everyone was asleep, stealing some rope from the garage, and found a secluded area with a sturdy tree.
This was going to be it. No more pain, no more stress, and no more worries. She was terrified, broken to her very core, and this fear culminated as she tied the rope and prepared herself.
As she prepared to jump, the rope already tight enough to cause her pain, she felt a burning sensation throughout her body. As she stepped forward, everything seemed to flash white and the tug of the rope disappeared.
She now stood half as tall as the tree, and she was acutely aware that her body was not hers anymore. She was a giant dinosaur! It took Lillian several minutes to figure out what was going on, during which she'd knocked the tree over, breaking it closer to the ground where it couldn't move as easily with her tail.
After finally managing to change back, Lillian ran. And ran. And ran. She found the PRT headquarters and banged on the front doors until someone came. Distraught, she spilled everything. She knew of the Wards, who didn't? She knew she had just Triggered, and she desperately wanted to join and escape her life to become a hero and help. No one needed to go through what she had, and she needed help herself.
She knew, deep in her very being, that this was what she needed to do. For herself, and for everyone else.
Four days after the interrogation of LoveCraft some random mook met Lillian outside, followed by a PRT representative talking with her parents to get permission to allow her into the program, and officially joined the next day.
Personality
Motivations: Lillian is driven by the desire to see hate and evil driven out of the world. Little acts like bullying are very much included. Why can't everyone just get along?
Sexuality: Unknown, leans towards bisexual, but that's a long way away in her mind.
Likes:
Flowers
Blues and Greens
Nice people
Nature
Animals
Her stuffed bunny
Gymnastics
Boys
Dislikes:
Mean people
Bullies
Yelling
Fast food
Green food (veggies)
Boys
Derangement: Incredibly carnivorous. Will hardly ever eat anything but meat since her Trigger.
She also tends to fall into depressive moods at random, part of her never recovering from her attempted suicide.
Lillian also tends to drift ever closer to heat sources without realizing it. She'll continue such until someone points it out. She actively seeks out heat sources, like being in the sun, when not actively engaged in another activity. The mindless drift happens regardless of what she is doing, and as such she has a sleepwalking tendency.
Coping mechanism: Ever since her trigger, which turns her into a giant reptilian monster, Lillian has been obsessed with flowers. 'They smell good,' she argues.
As such, she always has a flower on her. A live one.
Complication: A direct result of her attempted suicide, Lillian has three distinct personality traits. At times she has the mentality of a young child, eight at most. Other times she's a normal 14 year old. And at other times she's incredibly mature for her age.
Parahumanism
Skills:
Flexible
Decent endurance (can run a mile in about 6 minutes)
Great balance
Good hand-eye Coordination
Light on her feet
Classification: Thinker and Shifter / Brute
Details: Lillian has increased hearing, smell, reflexes, and eyesight. She can see in great detail up to a mile out, hear sounds better than is normal, and can track a scent like an animal as long as it's clear enough. Her reflexes are tied into her senses, as she can react to situations faster than most people would.These all work like advanced warning systems for her.
When shifting her form, she can take on the form if a reptile like creature, similar to a raptor or a T-Rex in varying stages of size. These sizes go from the height of an average man to easily double in size.
Her clothes and equipment remain intact and return to normal with her, as the form grows around her essentially.
Limitations: Lillian cannot see through obstacles, just like a normal person.
Her hearing acts normal, minus the enhanced intake of higher / lower frequencies.
She cannot distinguish smells that aren't very strong, or are covered by too many other strong smells.
When transformed, all her sense enhancements still apply the same.
Her senses can get overloaded, causing her to essentially be paralyzed.
She can't change sizes in lizard form, and must first revert back and wait 10 seconds before transforming again.
Her minimum transformation size is 6 feet, about the size of an average man, and her maximum is 40 feet tall. In addition, anything over 20 feet tall takes about 10 seconds to grow, and anything under 20 takes up to 5 seconds depending on size.
If she falls unconscious while Changed, she reverts back into human form automatically. Furthermore, injuries sustained in Dino form carry over into human form on a comparable level.
Equipment:
Protectorate Communication Earpiece
Costume will get to incorporate a holographic computer interfacing tool, courtesy of Decoy.
Appearance: Soledad – She has always been told by people that she was beautiful. It was something that the women and men never forgets to tell her. Her mixed Spanish, French, and Israeli ancestry have given her good genetics that make men and women easily notice her, but she’s never paid much attention to it unless she needs to. She’s six-foot-two, and towers over people easily with or without heels. Some would say that someone of her height shouldn’t wear heels, but she will if she wants to. She’s appropriately proportioned in the chest and waist department. Her dirty blonde hair and blue eyes catch the attention of any man or woman. He has an athletic and well-proportioned body indicative of years of continued exercise, and some scarring from both her gymnastics and training days. She moves with elegance and confidence the same way a dancer controlled the floor, and a gymnast stuck their landings.
Ghosthunter – When she retired she gave up the name and the costume that the Wards gave her, and all the equipment that came with it. She was fine with it since she couldn’t bring most of them anyway. All she ever really needed was a full body suit that afforded protection and mobility. Using what she had on her closet, and some leftover materials from her hero days she designed a “suit” that’s befitting someone who employs stealth to do their job. Her suit is an all-black ensemble consisting of a padded matte jacket, pants, sheer gloves, and boots, and to protect her identity she wears a long scarf intricately wound to cover her hair and hide the lower half of her face.
History: Soledad was born in a small town on the outskirts of Chicago to two immigrant parents. She grew up moderately upper middle class, and had a normal childhood. She enjoyed school but her passion was in performance which began with gymnastics which she grew out of because of her height. She moved onto dance and theater where her looks and height served her well. There wasn’t a big cape, or parahuman presence in her town. Outside of the end bringers she’s never really had serious concerns for parahuman crime or supervillains, no more than any regular citizen would have. In any other lifetime she would have stayed the same happy girl she has always been.
When Soledad was fourteen Chicago was in the worst and most dreadful winter snowstorm it has ever experienced in years. All five of the Rafaeli’s were on their way to the hospital. Her two older siblings were in the front seat driving and navigating, and Soledad with her father and mother were in the back trying to calm down a woman drying of pure joy and concern. It should have been the happiest night of their lives but tragedy struck in the form of a bank robbery gone wrong.
A local and uprising parahuman crime group decided to take advantage of the snowstorm and make some money, on their way from a successful bank robbery their white van collided with the Rafaeli’s car. The parahuman crime group managed to get away safe, but Soledad and her family’s vehicle was slid across the highway, turned over, and crashed onto a snow embankment.
Soledad woke up not knowing how long it had been since they crashed, but she knew it had been quite the considerable amount of time. Inside she was pinned between the door and the weight of her dead family, trapped in a freezing box all that she could was cry. Outside the snow continued to fall, burying and hiding their car. Soledad had run out of tears to freeze by the time that the local capes found their car, by the time they arrived Soledad was the only one that needed help, but no one could really help her anymore. The combined threat fear of dying in a car crash and the slow creeping fear of freezing death in a car where the bodies of loved one’s remains triggered her powers. Their case was never properly solved, all that remained of hat incident was one girl with powers who wanted revenge.
She spent the rest of her teenage years living with her grandparents. They were caring and nice, and was even incredibly proud that she could still smile through all the pain she had suffered. They just thought she was just strong, but it was just a byproduct of her new life. At night she would go out and use her powers, she trained and taught herself the skills she saw fit she would need to take down criminals. She took up a job, saved money, enrolled herself in classes, and gathered what she could to do succeed.
Within a few months of her activity the local PRT took notice of her and decided to extend membership to her. She accepted in a heartbeat knowing full well that they had been watching her in the shadows ever since her trigger event. Soledad saw this as an opportunity to grow and use them as she saw fit. She needed and wanted the training, and the Wards needed a new member. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that she occasionally enjoyed. She spent her time with the Wards growing as a hero the remainder of her teenage years serving the city and growing as a hero, and in her spare time she had her own mission.
In the five years she was with the Wards Soledad used the skills she gained she tracked down each member of the crime gang that destroyed her family. One by one she hunted them down and apprehended them. Six people were in that van, three had been severely injured when apprehended, and two were murdered killed in action. The last person in the van was the leader, driver, and the person most responsible for the death of Soledad’s family. She found the five before she left the wards, but the last one’s identity and location remained a secret.
The trail went cold and without a real reason to stay and continue heroics she finished her service with the wards until she outgrew the program. The local Protectorate asked her to join a hero team, but she refused. She retired hero name and costume, signed all the non-disclosure agreements they threw at her, and became a civilian once more. She pursued a different a life, and entered into the workforce, and in all but one account her life was going well until a familiar face wanted to see her in the local prison.
One of the members of the crime gang she hunted down wanted to see her. He was on his deathbed, cancer. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the years took its toll on him. The man’s guilt had grown over the years and wanted penance and forgiveness from her. He told her that no one knew who he was, fake names were part of the deal, but he told her two things that he had been trying to remember all this time. Their boss was young, maybe a teenager at the time, and that he was from Denver. Soledad took in this information and left without thanking him, giving him the same icy glare that she had when she first took the criminal down.
It was time to go back to work and this time she'd do it on her own terms, no more Wards or Protectorate. She packed up her things, gathered all her equipment, and left for Denver to get her revenge.
Personality
Motivations: Revenge, she is looking for a specific parahuman, the last who had a hand in killing her family. Her desire to good and be a hero is fueled by the fact that she wants to avenger her dead family, hunt down the person who killed those that she loved, and kill them. Sexuality: Bisexual – men leaning Likes:
Architecture
Maps
Art
Succulents
Competition
Fashion
Interior Design
Dislikes:
Small Spaces
Shades
White Vans
Romcom Movies
Office Work
Avocadoes
Drunks
Derangement: Her “Derangement” has completely changed her personality. She was always a bit of a happy go lucky and loopy girl, enthusiastic but a bit of an airhead. She enjoyed life and people, but she wasn’t the most decisive or confident person, but after her trigger that switched. She became more confident, focused and driven, and some would say to the point of cold fury.
Parahumanism
Skills: Combat - She’s had adequate combat training both through the Wards and her own continue training, she’s nowhere near being a master martial artist, but her powers have more than made up for this as her ability to pass through people makes her a powerful already.
Stealth – She’s always been light on her feet being a dancer with a gymnastics background helped her become an accomplished hero and spy. She uses these skills in conjunction with her intangibility to silently sneak through and find her enemies.
Charm – She is a very friendly and flirty person with quite the persuasive abilities. They’re not supernatural in nature, but rather she just has good understanding of people. She knows how to use her face and body to get what she wants out of people.
Classification: Breaker, Shaker
Details: Cryo-Phasing Breaker – The core element of Soledad’s ability is Intangibility and Freezing. Her powers essentially allow her to move through substances by slowing down her body’s and its immediate surfaces’ molecules, and allowing moving them through objects. Her main Intangibility powers are limited by the Manton effect which means she can only phase through objects. The greatest asset of this power is in the defensive and mobility it provides.
When intangible the molecules that are not part of her body remain in a slowed process drastically reducing their temperature applying a cryogenic effect. She’s had long enough experience with her powers that she can actively control the cryogenic effect to the point that she can keep the effect at the minimum allowing the substances to remain stable and solid albeit slightly cold, or apply the effect to the maximum making them brittle and frozen to the point of freezing and possible destruction if force is appropriately applied. Naturally she is immune to the effects of her powers, and due to its temperature controlling aspects it provides her some degree of temperature protection.
Striker - The striking aspects comes from her molecular control extends to her body’s immediate surface area. She can at will localize the effect of her power’s to her hands, which in turn allow her to affect the molecules objects she is currently touching without having to phase through them. The cryogenic effect is slower, but just as effective given enough time.
She has had appropriate practice and training with her powers that she’s explored the application and limits of her parahumanism. The simplest and most effective combat use of her powers is to phase through objects whilst applying the cryogenic effect to a maximum allowing her to break down and destroy weapons she comes in contact with, and dodge physical ranged attacks and other obstacles. She’s compensated the lack of offensive power by being a stealthy and fighter who goes for one move takedowns or other stealth based attacks, but if she was in control she wouldn’t have had to anyway because her specialty is in espionage and information gathering.
Limitations: Phasing Limitations – The main limits of her ability are that she cannot expand the effect to others, that she cannot phase through people, and she can only phase through objects that themselves are physical objects. She can phase through objects they are holding that are of a certain distance away from a person’s main body, such bats, swords, and guns, but anything that is directly on a person’s skin she cannot phase through such as their clothes and costume. Her inability to only phase through physical object also make her vulnerable to more creative attacks such as intense heat, fire, electricity, psychic attacks, concentrated wind and water blasts etc.
When intangible everything passes through her body, which means that she cannot breathe and must work with whatever kind of breath that is already in her system. This is normally not a problem as she would normally use her powers for short periods of time in between motions, but in battle when she most likely to be short of breath she is dangerously close to her powers cancelling out on her mid phase which can be seriously fatal for a number of reasons.
She currently does not know, or want to know what would happen if she phases through objects. There are three known effects. The first is that she can supersede the objects she passes through allowing her to leave holes and destroy the molecules all together cancelling them out leaving holes in her place. The second would be her merging with the molecules she is passing through which can result in any number of things. And the third and most fatal effect would be if her own molecules would be replaced by the objects she is passing through with them leaving holes in her.
When in an intangible state physics and momentum have some effect on her, a form of subconscious limitation. This essentially means that if she were to phase just standing up gravity would affect her essentially forcing her to sink down. This normally does not pose a problem as she normally uses her powers moving anyway, but it does become an issue when she has to phase through a particularly solid substance as it means she must continue moving otherwise her body will sink.
Her powers are also greatly affected by her subconscious and the way she thinks about the way she is phasing. A good example of this would if she were to run through a thick wall she must continue thinking as if the path is underneath her feet otherwise her “footholds” would be just as intangible as if they were not there. In practice her subconscious has never had an issue with this, but she can actively negate this effect by thinking that the world around her is like water. If she were to dive in water she can “swim” underground akin to diving and must continue think that way otherwise she might fall through and let gravity affect her or deactivate her powers.
Cryogenic Limitations – The main costs of this power is that they must be actively suppressed whenever she has to pass through objects, otherwise they are activating at a maximum, which can result in unnecessary damage. This can be particularly dangerous when moving through building as she can easily and accidentally destroy the main supports causing an entire building to crumble.
Equipment: Nothing - She can’t bring anything when she goes on missions due to the nature of her powers outside of what she’s wearing or can hide in her pockets, which is basically just her phone and watch
Name: Benjamin Newt Alias: Rend Age: 26 Alignment: Antihero Loyalty: Minutemen Appearance: Rend, in costume, wears a black suit with a white tie, covering his face with a shiny black mask with what appears to be white cracks steaming across it.
He stands a little above average at 6'1", weighing 160 pounds with an athletic body. His hands have calluses from years of archery and manual labor. Moving to his head, one would notice his dirty blond hair and clear blue eyes not unlike the color of shallow water. He keeps himself clean shaven, and his hair is sightly too long and messy.
His chest is a mangle of burn marks and scars from an incident in his late teens.
In civilian life one would find him in nicer clothes, similar to a well off business man, as he is one for theatrics. History: Benjamin Newt was born into money. His family owned a worldwide shipping business, and were very well set. He wanted for nothing, and indulged in his desires at will. As such he picked up an interest in the piano and archery at a young age, and had all the help he needed to learn them into mastery.
When he was sixteen he was involved in a national archery competition, winning fairly easily, when one of his opponents Triggered. Turns out they were a second generation Parahuman, and the indignity of being beaten so flawlessly set them off. Continuing off of their frustration, they blasted Benjamin with what appeared to be fire lasers, severely burning his chest and almost killing him.
But money solves all problems, and after a year Ben was back to normal, more or less, with scars and burns kept by choice to remind him of the Revenge he planned to take.
From there on out, Ben worked tirelessly to amass a large sum of money. The powerful always had rumors that you could buy powers, even if no one really knew how one might do so.
Eventually he was contacted by Caldron, about six years later, and he struck a deal. He promptly offered Dr. Mother 5 million dollars and six favors to gain teleportation and the ability to shoot through things, frantically trying to ensure he got the set he wanted.
Luckily for him, he got more than he wanted.
From there he practiced with his new powers for a few days to get the feel of his power, and then hunted down the bastard who nearly took his life.
After the young man was dead, Benjamin skipped town and floated from City to City, learning skills he found an interest in and enjoying a free life.
It was eight months later when Contessa appeared to collect the first favor. There was a Parahuman in Seattle that needed to die, and he asked no questions. As he had with his first kill, Rend, as he now called himself, did the deed by pure surprise and the lack of defensive abilities for his Target.
Again he went around, never staying in one place terribly long. Rather he enjoyed, well, enjoying himself.
And again, two years later, he was called upon. This time he needed to severely injure, but not kill, a man located in Brockton Bay.
Rend left the City worse off than he had arrived in, several cuts and bruises of his own, and a little less enthusiastic about running around.
He found a relatively smaller town to make his own, and to make his debut. He couldn't join the PRT, he disagreed too much on their methods and lack of real action (in his mind). But a new team of heroes had recently appeared, and so Rend set to work creating a costume. Several thousand dollars later, he was complete.
And from there he approached the Minutemen, to take down villains however was needed....
Personality
Motivations: Rend wants to rid the world of villains, even if he must resort to violence to do so. Sexuality: Straight Likes:
Archery
A good whisky
The numbers 2 and 4, and any combination of those two (24 in particular)
Nature, in particular forests
Music without lyrics
Dislikes:
Rudeness
Villains
Airplanes
Guns
Useless chatter
Derangement: More likely to solve a problem with violence. TV isn't working? Hit it. That guy across the street being annoying? Hit him. That villain won't surrender? Hit them till they do or they die.
Parahumanism
Skills:
Archery / marksmanship
Photographic memory
Skilled Carpenter
Great with money
Can play the piano, and well
High endurance
Generally good patience
Decent strategist
Fluent in English and sign language
Classification: Mover / Master and Blaster Details: Rend can step through reality (teleport), leaving a clone at his departure that is an exact copy of him, and reappearing elsewhere with a clone with him. This takes as much time as taking a single step, and he is innately aware of the surroundings within his limit, allowing him to consciously choose where to go.
He can also cause an object, his arrows for instance, to gain incredible piercing capabilities. This is activated by touch, and is an active choice he has to make on a fundamental level, and lasts for 20 seconds after leaving his touch. His arrows, for instance, can pierce concrete pillars, walls, cars, and so on as if they were butter or paper. Limitations: His clones can't teleport, and are limited to a single, basic commands he leaves then upon spawning (like 'distract' or 'attack that person'). Their Blaster ability is weaker, not able to pierce as well or hit with the same blunt force. Anything thicker than a concrete barrier they can't shoot through, and the blunt force is more like a solid punch. They also only last 30 seconds. Furthermore, upon reaching the time limit everything the clones spawn with disappears, though their effects remain (like smoke from a smoke bomb, or an arrow in flight).
He cannot teleport though lead, or beyond 500 meters in a single go. Nor can he appear inside something (like a wall, a person, a tree). There is also a five second limit between teleports.
He cannot imbue things that have no sharp edge, nor anything living. His piercing effect cannot go through living things, only nonliving, and will instead apply blunt force to living things equivalent to the speed the projectiles are traveling at. Equipment:
Special bow that can be folded and strapped to his back, along with a quiver of 20-30 arrows
Name: Jennifer Jennson Alias: WhipStitch Age: 24 Alignment: Anti-hero Loyalty: Independent / Lethal Force Appearance: Jen has an odd beauty to her. Fair complexion mixed with fiery red hair and orange eyes (naturally hazel) make for a surprising combination. Standing at 5'8" and weighing about 145lbs, Jen isn't an imposing figure by any means.
Given that she's one of the few Parahumans who doesn't hide their civilian identity, she's always in costume. Which looks like a strange mix of Little Red Riding Hood in a medieval theme. Which she happily found in a cosplay shop and stole. Plenty of leather and smooth cloth, with plenty of straps and a bag to hold things with.
History: Jen never had it easy, even from birth. Nearly dying during childbirth from complications, it was far from a great start. Hours later her mother passed as the birth turned out to be too much for the young woman of only 15. With no father present or signed, Jen was passed to her closest relative able to care for her: her uncle.
A man in his early forties, he secretly blamed Jen for the loss of his sister, but was kind enough to raise her without it showing. However, life never was great. Her uncle was poor, horribly so really, and they barely managed to scrape by. By the age of three, Jen had already broken a leg while playing. By age seven her one and only friend moved and never contacted her again. But a burst of (good?) news came when she discovered her ability to stretch and bend almost like a contortionist at age eight. She began practicing and honing herself, imagining she was an acrobat. By age nine her and her uncle were going without meals more often than not. At ten she snuck into a nearby circus, playing with the high rise equipment until she was discovered and escorted home by the police. By eleven she had been suspended from school no less than five times over fights.
This was the synopsis of her life, her problems growing ever worse.
After she turned eighteen she'd actually gotten the winning lottery ticket, worth a whopping 24 million USD, and was mugged for it before she could ever claim it. It was this incident that motivated her to teach herself self defense and how to use easily concealed weapons, which was a many month process full of cuts and bruising and trips to the library. Not long after her uncle was murdered in a bank robbery gone wrong, and she was left to fend for herself on the streets of Denver. She quickly learned how to go unnoticed, leaving no traces as she stole to survive and try and build a life in the ruthless world she knew. She knew she was on a dark path, and in an attempt at re-centering herself she began talking a free meditation class.
There they taught about losing oneself to the void within, becoming nothing and everything. How to hover between worlds, to ignore the earthly pains, and how to walk the world unheard for noise was the greatest distraction. Which really translated into her body skills to help her be a better thief.
So much for that idea, though she continued practicing and mediating daily.
Everything changed, again, mere months into her 22nd year of life. Having gained slight notoriety, barely of note compared to those Parahumans, as a thief Jen was out walking back alleys to avoid the public. Unfortunately she drew the eyes of a less than savory group of men who caught her by surprise.
Eventually she managed to escape their clutches and run off, with five burly bastards chasing after her. She was barely able to outrun them, a chain still around one arm, and as she looked back to gauge the distance she ran onto a main Street.
She was immediately hit by a car and sent a good fifteen feet down the road, blood covering her, the car, and the road between them. She lay unmoving for a few moments, and the driver sped off in fear of the worst. The men, too, retreated in the shadows of the alley.
It was then that Jen triggered, in unfathomable pain and fear of everything around her. What had felt like minutes had been seconds, and not even five minutes had passed since she had started running.
It took a few days before Jen mussed up the courage to go to the doctors, and another day to fully accept her new powers and begin testing the waters.
The whole event lit a fire inside Jennifer, and the only thing that can satisfy it is removing the evils of the world... As violently as she needs to.
Before long she had claimed an abandoned building as her own, creations webs from string and fortifying the building and weak reentry points, blocking off access through odd ways like the basement, and generally changing the inside to be her safe house. She took the name Whipstitch as her new Identity, and found her whole perspective changing.
She decided to steal from those who wanted for nothing, and to start finding a way to do her part in stopping the evil in the world, one step at a time.
Personality
Motivations: The world is filled with bad people, Parahumans, and monsters called Endbringers. Jen wants to do her part in stopping it all. Sexuality: Bi Likes:
Nights
Meditation
The color of blood
Acrobatic feats
Stars and the moon
Dislikes:
Bright lights
Guns
Evil / Bad people
Lots of noise
Men
Derangement: Jen has an incredible complicated relationship with men. On one hand she's driven to control them. On the other hand she's terrified of being controlled by them. And there she is, stuck in the middle.
Beyond that, she's...odd. Very spidery in actions at times, and incredibly brutal in a fight.
Parahumanism
Skills:
Incredible control over her body
Can move silently almost over anything
Can slow her heart and control her breathing to simulate death
Can block pain temporarily, as long as it's not near lethal
High flexibility, nigh on contortionist levels
Amazing balance
Acrobatic
Skilled with short blades
Innovative
Classification: Shaker / Blaster and Breaker Details: Jen can create string from anywhere on her body. From there she can manipulate the string, changing its various properties and is able to move it like it's an extension of her body.
She can make the string denser, sharper, change its size and shape, even its color.
Her secondary ability is to phase through hostile physical objects.
Limitations: Her phasing ability is completely out of her control, and only as much of her body will phase as is required to avoid the danger. If the danger isn't physical she can't do anything about it.
Her string has a set maximum length upon creation, going no longer than 50 meters. Upward durability is roughly equivalent to titanium, but it remains highly vulnerable to fire. The razor sharp capabilities can easily cut through regular flesh, most cars, but not really through brick and buildings. She can use other creative applications of get ability to get through buildings, however.
Her string is considered part of her until detached, and as such will phase as required so long as it's attached directly still.
Her phase ability works cos via her passenger through her field of vision. If it's within sight, even if it's moving in such a way she can't consciously see it (like a bullet) she will phase. If she doesn't think it will connect or cause harm but it will, she will phase. Her passenger is in complete control of the ability, and she often doesn't know when she has phased.
Jen can't manipulate string she hasn't created, nor can she manipulate string she can't remember being hers.
She can't create string inside people or manipulate it inside people, but naturally can still cut/stab people with sharp string, including wrapping around limbs and puppeteering them around.
Equipment: Several pristine knives, hidden across her body. Tiny lock picking tools hidden in a hidden compartment on the bottom of her boots. Beyond that she's normally wearing straps and a runners bag that she stocks with what she thinks she might need for a job.
Alignment: Mostly hero, although she's shifted to and from neutral as needed for her own gains, and there's some possibility of her unearthing a villainous role.
Loyalty: Independent
Appearance: Genevieve is a young woman of average stature, standing at about 5'5. Weighing approximately 125 lbs, Genevieve has fair skin, fiery-red hair, and turquoise eyes. A field of freckles adorn her cheeks as well as the bridge of her nose, and she's almost never seen without some shade of red on her lips and likewise, black eyeliner and mascara. When it comes to everyday fashion, Genevieve dresses for the occasion, therefore she doesn't follow any one specific trend and she doesn't believe in labels. Whenever she's out preventing mayhem (or sometimes being the cause of it), Genevieve is seen sporting this biker chick look, albeit substituting for a more comfortable pair of boots. Additionally, Genevieve wears a black wig to hide her appearance, the straight hair falling down to her mid back. To finish off the look, she also wears black aviators with reflective lenses and will very rarely take them off.
History: Genevieve is French-Canadian, born in Quebec but being dragged along to the states at the tender age of 4 after her father accepted a promotion in Colorado. She's an only child, which meant that growing up, she was somewhat spoiled in the process, although when she messed up, either in school or at home, she had no way to wane off the attention of whatever wrongdoing was plaguing her at the moment.
High school was relatively easy for Genevieve. She was very much into the natural sciences and despite having a very soft side for animals, she wasn't entirely sure of what field to get into, although much too often her family and friends pushed her to become a veterinarian. But Genevieve didn't pursue such option. Instead, and, much to her parents' surprise, Genevieve became extremely interested in Geography almost overnight, and eventually, she applied to an out-of-state college and got in, telling her parents that same day that she'd also won a scholarship and wouldn't rely on their money to get her through school. Genevieve double-majored in Geography and Meteorology, and eventually, she landed a job with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration stationed as an Atmospheric Researcher right in her home state.
Unbeknownst to Genevieve, her father, Claude, had made a few enemies due to his position as an attorney. The crooks were seeking payback after one of their associates was put away in prison for a few decades. After doing their research and finding out that Claude had only one child--a young woman nonetheless--they decided to make Genevieve their target instead of Claude. It would hurt him a lot more, and they could use her for leverage if needed be. Genevieve, being unaware of all of this, was walking towards her vehicle after spending a few hours in a bar/restaurant for her friend's birthday. It was dark, she was alone, and one of the men was waiting in the alley for her to walk by. In only a matter of seconds, a gloved hand covered Genevieve's mouth as she was dragged off the sidewalk and pushed against the wall. She couldn't see the individual in front of her because their face was covered by a mask.
"You Genevieve?" he finally asked, keeping the young woman pinned to the side of the building. When Genevieve silently nodded, the man took a hand note and slipped it in her back pocket. It was then she took the opportunity to knee him in the groin, seeing it as her only chance to escape. This move, however, turned out to be a huge mistake the moment the man's demeanor changed. Even though he'd doubled over in pain and Genevieve broke free of his grip, the man didn't let her get far before he tackled her to drag her back to the same spot.
"Big fucking mistake, sweetheart."
Genevieve's heart was racing, and unfortunately, it had every reason to do so. A silent gasp escaped her lips when she felt an intense, sharp pain in her side. She didn't have to look down to know she'd been stabbed, and it's almost as if the ground and everything else around her disappeared and left her and the stranger alone. As her body started to collapse, the man kept her propped up. She didn't recall much of what he was saying except that he mentioned her father, Claude, and something else about getting revenge. Nearly reaching the point of unconsciousness, the man was gone in an instant while Genevieve finally fell to the ground, her clothes covered in her own blood. She had enough strength to dig into her purse and fetch the small bottle of painkillers as she'd much rather alleviate the pain before dying than pass on in utter misery. Genevieve downed a few pills, she doesn't exactly remember how many, before her world faded to black.
Genevieve became conscious once more as the sound of various machine tones steadily grew louder. She opened her eyes and slowly realized she was in a hospital room. A few moments later, her doctor came in for a routine check but was pleasantly surprised when she found Genevieve to be awake. And it was then that everything changed, when the doctor explained to Genevieve the incident with the paramedics. She'd grabbed one by the arm and pulled him close to her, begging him to give her something to alleviate the pain, but the longer she held on, the less pain she felt. It was intoxicating to have such relief, meanwhile the young paramedic was screaming in pain. It wasn't until his partner pushed her down and strapped her up with more restraints that the pain returned. More screaming, this time coming from her, and both paramedics worked together to increase her dosage until she eventually became unconscious again. Genevieve didn't really recall any of that, but upon her discharge from the hospital, she finally got acquainted with her abilities after finding out her parents were murdered.
Personality
Motivations: It is her turn to get revenge now, and she will stop at nothing until she comes across the men responsible for the murder of her parents.
Sexuality: Bi-curious
Likes:
Animals
Science
Reading
Running
Cooking
Her job
Dislikes:
Smokers
Cheese
Hot weather
Bugs
Bad drivers
Derangement: Because of her ability and the effect it has on her, Genevieve can't stand the sight of blood or open wounds. While most of the time she doesn't have a physical reaction when witnessing such grotesque displays in front of her, she'd much rather avoid it altogether, leading her to sometimes run away from the scene.
Parahumanism
Skills: Genevieve has somewhat of above-average intelligence. That's not to say she was a natural-born Einstein, but she did actually try to learn as much as she could in school and didn't put it off like a lot of kids her age did. She also has great computer skills, and can do some basic infiltration depending on the software and whether she has any familiarity with it. Lastly, Genevieve is a great runner, and that includes both long-distance and sprinting.
Classification: Striker
Details: Genevieve has the ability transfer any sort of injury from one person to the next. In order to achieve this, she must simultaneously maintain physical contact with both the donor and the recipient. She's viewed as a vessel by some, and that's a good description of her parahuman abilities. If she wishes, Genevieve can transfer only a portion of the injury onto the donor, and that way, both parties are neither completely healed nor stuck with all the pain. If for some reason there isn't anyone around to accept the injury as their own, then she can hang on to that negative energy for a few hours. Additionally, if she herself is hurt, she can choose someone, even against their will, to bear the burden for her. The injury transfer will only take a few moments, given both parties are conscious. Otherwise it will take a bit longer, but it usually doesn't exceed beyond a minute. This ability of Genevieve works only on physical injuries, therefore if someone is sick with the flu, she wouldn't be able to help them.
Limitations: Unfortunately, Genevieve isn't able to hold on to another person's injuries beyond a few hours. As more and more time passes, the symptoms will slowly show up on her own body until it has completely taken on its full physical force.
Equipment: Her aviator glasses are actually a smart screen which help her detect anyone who's nearby and allows her to look up any sort of information. She's also able to use them as a communication device, although she works alone and therefore doesn't use that one specific feature. Genevieve also has a sports bike in all black. Nothing fancy, it just gets her wherever she needs to go.
“Anyone who is familiar with the lessons we teach children, know that they are always mixed messages. You have villains who songs are often light and upbeat, always enjoying life. And hero songs about strife and having to go through personal growth to become a better person than the villain who seems to be enjoying life. We’re told don’t be like the bad guy. But when real people climb from strife, the bad guy wins and continues to sit in an ivory tower.”
Age: 27
Alias: Affliction
Alignment: Villain
Loyalty: Reflections - “Take a good hard look at yourself. Everyone is so scared of being the darkest part of themselves that they strive entirely for an imperfect vision of purity. They strive to be a hero or some sort of good person. Hard work on their back. They point to someone they determine is evil and go, well I’ll never be like that. But we’re all a little good and a little evil. And anyone is capable of being like that.”
Reflections was only a dream about a year ‘n half ago. Something designed and dreamt about after lengthy complex discussions constructed by individuals who were disillusioned by the current system. A lost sense of belonging and a dream to fix a current broken system with the gifts lended to them through tragedy. This was their strife, but not one to become heroes. Instead to become villains. Why? Maybe even the founder himself doesn’t really know.
Reflections was formed in Littleton, Colorado about a year ‘n half ago. Though the first year of activity was less activity and more like the construction of their desires, goals, and what this group was to achieve and accomplish. Arturo likes things in order and most of the first phases of Reflections was simple setup. Victor called these stages “Arturo’s Little Seminars”.
Appearance:
People are so brazen when you have a physical ailment, more so than they are brazen when confronting someone with a mental wound. Those with mental wounds tend to be shamed for their conditions or stunned into silence by surface advice. While people see those with physical ailments and feel they have the right to ask about another person’s personal life.
“I just have to ask, but what happened,”
“You’re so brave, I could never live like that,”
“Do you still...you...know, down there….can it….feel it”
Worse is you’re expected to entertain them with answers. Most of his youthful years were cut short due to an accident that left him marked with over 80% of his body burned. Though he likes to dodge as many questions as he can, what he can cover he does so with gloves, or long sleeve shirts. It’s a bother, but he prefers the stares to be the next sucker, in this urban jungle, to be their spectacle and not him. He’s is not to be spectated.
He doesn’t mind his face being seen though it always ends up getting more questions like;
“Are you burned anywhere else?”
“80%, did it….man I’d be so pissed if that happened to me”
Arturo seems more uncomfortable with the rest of his body being viewed than say his face. Though he doesn’t always like those looks either, but it is much easier to manage. He even tends to cover parts lower part of his face with something such as a scarf usually that matches the suit he has chosen to wear.
The only thing more noticeable than his burns is his ice gray blue irises, they often appear more gray or blue depending on the lighting he is in. And if people aren’t talking about his burns they are talking about his unique eyes. Which he sort of prefers more than exploiting his burns for their own entertainment.
Arturo himself stands at 5’8”, 172 cms, and weight 140 pounds, 63 kg. He tends to walk slowly a bit like a shuffle and Victor calls it his “zombie walk” which he greatly dismisses, usually. Most people think he has an aura of calm or serenity that surrounds him.
He speaks in a low tone, often with a calm cadence, he doesn’t speak very loudly and tends to have a rather husky voice. His voice can be middle range and doesn’t sound like a typical American voice, as there are hints of a ghosting accent from speaking another language at home.
Affliction
“Sometimes I don’t know what to think. Sometimes I think I have lost my mind. Sometimes I think to myself that’s what death does to some people. Some become overtly religious and others lose interest in life. I wonder where I fit into those two categories. All well, now isn’t the time to concern myself with such a thought.”
He walks slowly in the dark, the so called aforementioned “zombie walk” does him an advantage, as he takes a step forward his footsteps are paved by the looks of what seem like flesh, the inside of an intense or something like it. Veiny, sinewy,muscle as he walks with an eerie step, doesn’t say anything, you watch as he steps on a piece of glass without even flinching, His face is covered by a mask of ivory, blackened eyes.
While he wears an unusual robe, with tattered and burned ends. He’s barefoot, and doesn’t seem to mind the chilly cold air. Not even a shiver or shake. In that moment you freeze, you’re unsure of his intentions. All he says to you is
“You will make a good world.”
Vague and eerie, his voice tends to be even lower register than when he’s not in the mask. An audible whisper, that creeps inside your eardrums like cold winter air, a voice that brushes across your cerebral understanding like mental cobwebs.
Personality
Motivations: A world of goodness. Though not necessarily a world where good and evil do not exist. But in Eastern philosophies, ying and yang is a balance. And Arturo believes it is a balance, but he doesn’t believe evil should win over good. He wants the right people where they belong and the people he sees need punishment where they belong. He wants to fix the world from the right and wrong he sees, to the one he envisions for the world.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Was Engaged, Single or it’s complicated really.
Likes:
Trivia - Ever since he was a kid he use to collect odd bits of information about the world. These bits of knowledge became minor bits of trivia that he enjoyed sharing when he found it relevant. He still enjoys doing so. The thrill of learning something fascinating and holding onto is a little satisfaction of life.
Stamps - Another habit he had as a kid was to collect postage stamps from different eras and keep them in a yearbook. A habit born when he had a bit of a pen pal from Italy after his trip to his heritage land. From there he liked to collect stamps from different countries and different times. He’s not a fan of patriotic stamps though, he often likes unique stamps.
Politics - Seems to be the only person who actually might enjoy talking about politics with others. It’s fascinating concept to think how many people see the world. He doesn’t like to debate politics. More gather information about what other people think. If he wants to change the world’s model, he must see what is most important to everyone for equal fairness.
Eastern Philosophy - In his teen years of discovery, one of those discoveries and things he explored was religion. His family not being very religious allowed him the freedom to explore other religions on his own terms. From paganism to Christianity, to Judaism. But the one that resonated the most with him was most likely the Eastern philosophies, less a religion and more a collection of ideas about how to make peace with the world and others around it.
Dislikes:
Litterbugs - Everyone was born on one Earth and their job should be to protect it, keep it clean and respect mother nature. While not generally a person who starts conflict, ironic consider his choice of villain, he will stop individuals who trash this beautiful Earth.
Disrespect - Just like you are born on one Earth. You are stuck with the individuals on this earth. You should treat others with respect. Be kind and courteous to others. Show them compassion. Everyone believes that another person’s life could not happen to them. But anyone could go bankrupt, anyone could lose their job or go homeless. So when you treat your neighbors with respect, they tend to remember that and will help you when you’re in a tight spot.
Talking Plush Toys - Now this might sound odd to anyone who is not him. But everyone has that one story that gives them an unusual dislike or healthy distance from something. In this case it’s talking plush toys, as a kid he had one of those talking plush, with the big eyes that stared into your soul. Story goes like all kids story go, about one night the talking toy going off. Just continue to speaking. Just to shut it up you reach for the batteries and realize there is none. Every kid has a story like that and that is why he prefers not to be near talking plush toys.
Derangement:
Spacing - Arturo never been a space case though it seems as of late that has become a habit. Where he could be in the middle of a conversation and completely space on what he is saying or where he is in a certain location. He often has these moments that feel almost out of body and seem loosely connected to his territoires.
Often having flashing or some kind of experience of being in one place and another at the same, and the other place he often is called to is his territories or experiences his territories when he is far away. And the greatness of this effect happens the further away he is away from something he has overrun.
Parahumanism
“Meat Space”
Major Skills:
Teacher Credentials - You wouldn’t have guessed or most people probably wouldn’t have guessed that at some point in his life Arturo had wanted to become a teacher. Graduating college in hopes to gain a teaching job in his respective field. People also probably wouldn’t have assumed that he was a great artist as well.
Except that extracurricular activities have been drastically cut from school systems, so it was difficult to desire an art teacher in a school with no art subjects to offer. He was also part of a few teacher groups to lobby for more extracurricular courses in schooling, signifying the importance of these activities to children. Trying to better the world and the education system through the law back then.
Painting - Arturo always been artistic, idealistic as well, but artistic. Drawn to unique imagery in postcards and stamps, that furthered his collections. When he was a kid he went through art classes, and greatly excelled in them. Especially in his efforts of landscape painting with acrylics and different types of watercolors. While a brilliant student he was drawn to the color and beauty of the world.
Intelligent - Arturo has always been intelligent. Not genius or savant, but intelligent nonetheless. His mind has always been critical and it has always worked on things that he wanted to see change in the world. He was a deeply thoughtful child and as an adult he was a deeply critical, and analytical individual. He wanted to help the world with his intelligence back then, that maybe if people just listen they can understand the importance of the manner. Appeal to them and their sensibilities. It was of course all in vain.
Minor Skills:
Anatomy - A more recent subject that Victor has been teaching him, about the human anatomy. It helps him construct the stuff he constructs in the meatspace territory that he controls.
Basic Combat Training - Small things like how to deflect a blow or how to block an attack. Or how to sweep someone if he has to. Most of his fighting though is about capture and release so it wasn’t to important that he learn anything than a few basics like how to defend oneself.
Classification: Stiker/Shaker/Master/Thinker
Meatspace Overview
“That’s a terrible name”
“What should we call it then? Zombie Rot….hmmm you know that’s not that bad either,”
“We’ll keep Meatspace,”
Arturo has the ability of spreading an area with a parasitic flesh. That is somewhat sentient. The spread of flesh that surrounds him is often within a 10 cm circumference around him, that spreads at a rapid rate. Though generally has a will of its own.
But bits of Arturo can control or will some of the meatspace. More like encourage it to grow or spread further than what is inside his normal control. Though the more Arturo learns to use his capabilities the more him and his meat space seem connected.
In this territory of flesh Arturo’s capabilities come out. In his meat territory Arturo can;
Infect inorganic material with his meat flesh, which is often how the territory spreads in the first place.
When another person comes into contact with his meat territory or him, Arturo can encase them in meat, until they are “consumed” in a meat sack pod. These sack pods keep their victims alive, but it's the equivalent of keeping them on life support.
Yet to be discovered by Arturo is that he can essentially replicate an individual who was inside of his sack pods. They are completely linked to his will as a meat slave meant to carry out his will and motivational desires.
Veinacles “Please stop naming things”
With his limited control of his meatspace territory it can influence it to a few basic things, such as “creating” tentacles out of the veins of the walls. These tentacles are limited to whipping, slashing, or grabbing though. And they are limited in range, each branch at least 5 ft in length, but they cannot really stretch far being attached to walls.
He can also limit where things can go in his territory, at least where the territory has spread. So he can essentially have pods of his victims moved anywhere within the territory. Except he tends to have to focus on where he wants it to go visually and that’s a lot of work.
He can create external organs inside the meat territory, though he’s not quite sure the purpose of these yet. As he’s still getting to learn the dimensions of his own capabilities.
Yet to be discovered by Arturo is that if he dies in his meat territory, is that he can essentially create a copy of himself in his territory. This should not be mistaken for immortality, as Arturo can still die in the pod, he ages and gets sick, can die of illness.
Also this process is still rather slow, it’s not a “i died and I am back” type of deal. It’s like being recreated, and reborn and takes up to a couple of days. And even then it takes him a while to gain his sense of self back and can be a kind of disorientated experience.
As a last resort option it is possible for Arturo to actually infect the clothing he is wearing with his parasitic flesh. But he doesn't necessarily do it otherwise because he prefers not to have to wear clothes out of flesh.
Something Arturo has yet to discovered is the ability to morph or form meat minions, even further these meat monster minions could be made from the mind slaves he already has simply by pushing the mutation of his flesh mutation inside of them to the furtherest limits of its power.
Limitations:
The extent of Arturo’s capabilities is greatly impacted on how much meat territory he has. None of the things he can do is possible if he has say a strip of meat territory, a lot good that will do. Though his territory spreads quickly within the next 48 hours, that doesn’t necessarily mean he will have enough territory to do anything.
Also Arturo himself is greatly limited. He relies heavily on his territories and intelligence, because he was a man who was learning to become a teacher. He’s no soldier, had no interest in physical or combative sports. So Arturo himself is a sitting duck without his territories.
Beyond that it seems Arturo and his meat territory are highly susceptible to fire. His meat territory is flammable.
To some extent Arturo and his territory are connected and he can feel pain through his territory. If someone hurts a vein tentacle, then he can feel it in his own body.
He also has a habit of spacing out at moments, if he’s not within his territory.
It should be also noted that Arturo doesn't necessarily feel pain, he won't respond to minor to moderate injuries with much reaction. But often tends to ignore them because of it. These wounds when not taken care often lead to infections he could have otherwise avoided if he did take care of these minor scrapes. He also still can get things like hypothermia, it's simply that some parts of his body are dead to external stimuli.
Equipment:
Meat-Space Infected Knives - Inside his coat pocket, he keeps them hidden, but he has a few knives that he has infested with his territory. If anyone’s gets too close or if he has to infect them without getting hurt himself he can stab them with the knife in order to infect them.
Two-Way Radio - Arturo and Victor have the downgraded version of an earpiece communication device, as in two-way radios to hear each other and communicate over a distance.
Meat Car - Punky - It's less a car and more like a roaming puppy dog that comes out to play. It's the very first thing Arturo has overrun. Like a lost child it tails Arturo around and hangs out in any territory he has overrun.
History
His mother use to call him a “bundle of thanks” or “her bundle of thanks” born on a cold November day in Littleton Colorado in 1977 he did not come into this world alone. They still have the pictures of a hospital room filled to the brim with family. His older brother, his mother, his father, his grandparents, his aunts, and uncles.
All celebrating his coming into this world. His grandmother would tell him things like the snow blessed him and that’s why he has such icy eyes. He didn’t really know what any of that meant, but it was artistic and creative metaphors like that, that sparked his imagination fairly early.
And that’s probably why he had labels fairly early on in life. His family kept closely to their rich Italian heritage. His grandmother teaching him, his oldest brother Italian, like they had taught his father. While his mother tried at least to keep up with the family conversations.
There were never really the type of family to rush. He sat at the table watching his mother place lunches in their backpacks without breaking a sweat. They had enough time and he was staring at his older brother who was in the first grade.
“I get to go on more field trips now that I am in the first grade,” he bragged to no one really. Arturo always just thought he liked people to think he was cool.
“If I approve them,” their mother snapped back, she had blue irises and blond hair. The family always suspected he got partially his eye color from her.
Fabian huffed.
“I know,” he said defensively, “But I graduated baby class.”
His mother snapped him a look. She looked over to Arturo, who took the leisurely atmosphere to color with crayons on the dining table.
“Aren’t you excited about your big day?” she tried to enthuse.
Reality was he was more nervous than excited. He knew other kids he was forced to play with were excited about today. Talking nonstop about it. But they didn’t have to live with his older brother Fabian. Who brought his big kid friends over to play sometimes and they often left him out of games. He shrugged.
“Will I make friends?” he mumbled instead.
“Honey of course,” she says, “You will make lots of friends because you are so wonderful. And all the other kids will see that.”
He believed her because she was his mother and she hadn’t steered him wrong yet. Or failed an expectation yet.
“Okay,” he said, “I made a picture.”
“Let’s see,” she said while handing Fabian his backpack and coming over to him to hand him his. Reaching for it, she stared at a waterfall he had began to draw. “Oh that’s lovely, it’s…”
“A waterfall,” he said.
“I see it now,” she says and kisses the top of his head, “Okay let’s get you boys to school.”
He got up and followed Fabian out the door, as their mother came from behind them with the house keys. Locking the door and then taking their hands, they began to walk down the little suburban neighborhood. It seemed today that the neighborhood had more kids than it did in the summer. They all came out of their houses, different ages, different sizes, some with parents, others without.
The closer they got to the school the more nervous he got. His mother was stopped by another mother, and they began to talk about something. Something mothers talk about that didn’t particular interest him. Just around the corner and Fabian slipped out of his mom’s grasp. He calls out to his friends, and begs to be released. His mother shoos him off with a hand gesture and blows a kiss at Fabian, his friends laugh at him.
One of the kids Samuel walks up to him, kid about his age, about to turn five this month, frizzy ginger hair and a lot of freckles smiles at him.
“Hi Art,” Samuel says.
He never understood why people called him Arty or Art.
“Hi Sam,” he smiled.
Sam looked at his mother who was talking to his and then just eased his way to standing next to him. Arturo looked at Sam.
“I got Mrs. Parson,” Sam told him.
“Me too,” Arturo responded.
Samuel nodded and that was about that for that conversation. Samuel was and wasn’t a friend. He was someone chosen for him by his mother, because she knew Samuel’s mother and Samuel’s older brother. And since his older brother played with Samuel’s then it must mean Samuel and him would get along. It wasn’t that they didn’t. It was just that he played differently than them.
They wanted to play superheroes, or firefighters, cops, or fight each other. He wanted to explore worlds. He wanted to design a story and work around characters. Other kids found this weird, that he setup a story. If Jonathan said they were superheroes, they were superheroes.
If Arturo was in the game, he wanted to create a world, and the creatures that inhabited it. He got made fun of about this a lot.
Finally making it to the school building he didn’t see how he was already going to make friends when kids already thought he was weird. It wasn’t like any of these kids were different than others. He followed quietly to the kindergarten classroom. Some kids were refusing to leave their parents side, while he just felt his mother let go of his hand.
He stared at her.
“Be good, okay?” she said.
“Okay,” he told her, she hugged him and kissed the top of his head again.
“Remember to meet Fabian in front of the school,” she told him.
“I’ll remember,” he told her.
“And you two will walk home together. Do not leave each other’s side.”
“Tell that to Fabian,” he mumbled.
She smiled at him once again, pushing back his dark brown hair out of his eyes for a second. He smiled back at her. Maybe she was right, he had no reason to doubt he wouldn’t make any friends. He was just more mature than other kids, he had to understand that. She walked off and he turned to address Samuel, but he was already walking into the classroom so Arturo did the same.
Mrs. Parsons a woman as old his grandmother stared at the both of them. She pointed to some cubbyholes behind them.
“Place your backpacks in the cubbyholes with the letter that matches your last name is, if you need help I’ll be more than willing to help,” Mrs. Parsons says in a sing song way, “And then you will sit at your respective desk with the letter your last name ends in.”
Samuel stood around waiting for Mrs. Parsons to direct him, while Arturo walked over to look for the cubby’s with K. Mrs. Parsons was already helping Samuel find the Ms, but turned her attention to him.
“Look at you so smart and prepared already,” she says in a delightful tone to him.
Arturo already felt signaled out. He wanted to disappear a little. He just looked for the desk with other kids with the last name with a K.
Sitting across several other kids, including a black one across from him, he just hoped that class would soon begin. It didn’t take long for the stragglers to arrive and with that Mrs. Parsons clapped her hands to gain the classes attention, she began to place sheets of white paper onto each cluster of desk they were sitting at. “ “Welcome class to your first day of Kindergarten,” Mrs. Parsons spoke awfully cheery, it was one of the reasons he didn’t like children’s television much any more, they all had this tone, like they were stupid, “I’m Mrs. Parsons and we’re all going to have a wonderful time together. Now I have set some pieces of paper on your desk. We are going to create nametags for the school year and that will be the nametag you have on your desk for the whole semester. Exciting.”
He wanted to roll his eyes. She paused for a second to scan the class.
“Now, if anyone needs helps with their letters, I am more than willing to help,” she says, “But this is more of a fun exercise. So I can see where you’re at. Then we’ll go around the room introducing ourselves. How does that sound.”
All the other kids looked and seemed excited. He just wanted to be doing what Fabian would be doing in first grade. With his times tables. All the kids hurriedly passed out pieces of blank pieces of paper, while they were given instructions of how to make their nametags point and stand up.
He watched some of the other kids struggling, their letters wobbly and he felt once again out of place as he began on big, boxy letters his brother taught him how to create. He began to color them in with different shades of blue.
One of the kids, who looked tan and had brown hair looked at him. All he did was sneer at him before going back to his wobbly letters. He didn’t know why he did. Mrs. Parsons passed by many of the desk, bending on her knees with a grimace on her face doing so, to help them with shaky hands, and show them how to do a letter they were struggling over.
She finally came to his end, seeing him color in a U in his name.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” she asked him.
“My brother is in first grade,” he replied.
He noticed glares from other students. Why?
“It’s very artistic, we have a real picasso in the class,” Mrs. Parsons says again with much force enthusiasm. Why did she carry herself that way? It was like baby talk without direct baby talk. He fiddled with his colored pencil. He felt out of place.
The feeling of never really belonging never went away. He felt more out of place every time he went to school. All the other kids thought he was a show off, and he never had fun at school because the teachers spent most of the time talking to the early grades as if they were dumb. He liked the books his brother brought home, about Huckleberry Finn, and Peter Pan. He didn’t like the books they made them read because to him they were baby books.
And he was starting to garner labels. From the other students it was show off, know it all, it was vague acknowledgement that he existed. While from the teachers it was smart, bright, and intelligent, and other teachers it was troublemaker, problem child, and poorly behaved.
When he was six his baby sister Kaylyn was born. Which just left him and Fabian to their own devices. They walked to school together, well reality was Fabian ditched him when they got close enough to the school.
Samuel after a while stopped being friends with him because Samuel was considered “cool” by some standard. Kids at school liked Samuel, well at least the ones with the same interest as Samuel. And Arturo made a few friends here and there, but nothing that stuck.
He was weird. He was too outside of the norm and after a while he was just alone. Unless someone wanted to pick on him.
But school always taught everyone they were special in their own way. They tried to make the abnormal seem normal, but that couldn’t be the case if he didn’t have any friends. While at home, a lot of his family believed if someone worked hard enough they would rise up from their troubles. He wanted to believe it too.
That’s why he never fought back.
And sometimes things felt like rewards for good behavior. Despite the negativeness from school, when he was twelve he was promise when he became thirteen that he’d be able to visit his other relatives in Italy. Something to look forward to, in a school system that felt more like a suffocating prison.
I don’t really want to be here. Sitting alone in the quad again while I watch other kids around me act like animals. Why can’t I be like them? Teachers and my parents always always tell me there’s something special about me.
That the other kids cannot see it yet. But I don’t think they are going to see anything. I get to my dad’s sister, my aunt, next year. I have been doing a lot of research on Italy. I am looking, no leaping towards a future because it sucks here.
My father says these growing pains are normal. That I only feel that way because I am twelve and about to hit puberty. That’s what he says, why can’t he just see I am tired of being pushed around by other kids? I am told that fighting back is a bad thing. But when I tell the teachers anything they don’t believe me. So I am a liar or a bad guy.
“Hey,” a voice broke through the meditative process of writing. Arturo looked up to see Sam. Sam hadn’t been a skinny kid, but he was an average kid, though now Sam was getting a little chubby. Still they hadn’t talked since grade school and even then that was just brief. He looked around for other kids, who might look like they were just about to experience a wet dream in public. But no one else was there to goad Sam on.
“Hi?” Arturo asked.
“We use to play a lot back in the day,” Sam sort of adds, as if that’s his offering of peace.
“I remember,” Arturo responded, guarded, but willing to listen.
“Yeah, um,” Sam looks at him nervously, “I’m just here to invite kids to a party for a friend. It’s their birthday tomorrow. Weird, right. We always use to make fun of what we’d feel like if we had a birthday every four years.”
Arturo laughs amusingly.
“Yeah,” Arturo nods accepting a piece of paper with an address on it, “I’ll show up.”
Sam just nods, “Cool. It’s tonight. Around 6pm.” Arturo nods, “I’ll try to convince my mom.”
He didn’t know if he should feel ecstatic about the situation or weirded out. It certainly wasn’t something he expected today. He looks back to his notebook;
Still this place sucks.
5:30 pm
“It’s very last minute,” his mother says at 5:30, while his brother Fabian is play the NES in the living room.
Arturo looks away, “I know.” He tells her. Both him and his mother turn their head when they hear Fabian let out a shit.
Before his mother can get another word in the door opens. His father has just gotten home as well. Fabian and his father look awfully alike, broad shoulders, black hair, and chiseled chins. Kaylyn is sitting on the couch painting her nails while watching Fabian.
“Daddy!” she says excitedly jumping off the couch to give him a hug. Dad embraces her in a hug and then stares at the two of them standing in the middle of the kitchen.
“What am I missing out on?” he ask with a smile. His mother looks at their father, his olive skin in stark comparison with her vanilla colored skin.
“Arturo wants to go to a party,” she said.
Want was a strong word.
“I was invited,” Arturo corrected.
“Is it in the neighborhood?” Dad asked.
Mom looks at the residency on the card, “I believe so.”
“Let him go, they are twelve and if the neighborhood is full of responsible parents then I know they aren’t going to be going anywhere crazy or doing anything crazy,” Dad says, “I’ll take him.”
He wished they would have both just said no and disagreed with him. His mom hands his father the card with the residency on it.
“You ready?” Dad ask.
Arturo nods quietly. He follows his father out of the kitchen and through the front room. They leave the house and walk to his father’s car. Getting inside the passenger seat, his father starts the engine and begins to peel out of the driveway.
“School going any better?” Dad ask, “I mean you were invited to a party. See I told you it all work out.”
Arturo looks out the window.
“Not really,” Arturo tells him, “I still...am not normal.”
Dad just turns the wheel to Dutch Creek Drv.
“Kids can be cruel to someone who is as unique as you, but I think a party is a good sign,” dad pauses, “Don’t you.”
He shrugs.
“Maybe, or maybe that’s just something we tell ourselves so we can cope with not being normal,” Arturo tells him.
Dad just laughs. Dad turns onto Larkdale drive and stops at a house. There’s no one there. No kids are going in and out. There’s no balloons. He thinks he sees his dad pull a face. It seems like disappointment, maybe. Dad waits a second more. No cars pull up. Dad bites his lip and then strums the steering wheel with his fingers.
“Well kiddo,” Dad says, “I don’t think there’s a party here.”
Arturo just rolls down the window and then rolls it back up. He should have known. He wondered what his dad would say now.
“They gave me a false address,” Arturo said.
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Dad begins, “How about we see if there is a party, and then me and you can go get some ice cream afterward.”
He shrugs. There wasn’t any harm in it he supposed.
“Okay,” he said.
Dad turns onto Glenview Drv and begins to slowly look at each of the houses. He wonders why his father is taking the time to even do this. If there was no party it was just a terrible prank, that he fell for. If there was a party he was just the biggest loser. Heading onto Zenobia Ct, dad stops at a house with balloons and a birthday banner.
“Guess that’s the party, huh,” Dad said.
“Guess so,” Arturo says looking away from the house. What a lame prank. What a lame way of making him feel unwanted or unwelcomed. He hated that school and all the kids in it. Everyone made the fault out to be on him. That was the weird thing about calling him special or unique and no one understood. Is if he were so unique, so special. Why was he treated like such a bad kid? Why was he treated like he was the bad guy?
He was either a liar or a bad guy. Like when Micheal and his friends pants him in PE class. He told the teacher what happened. And six kids all said his pants just fell down. He got detention for lying and trying to tell on another student.
Dad puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Remember, we’re getting ice cream,” Dad told him, “You don’t need these kids approval. Remember you are special. Even if they cannot see it.”
“I don’t feel really special,” Arturo tells him, trying not to cry in front of his father. Dad starts to do a three point turn.
“My grandparents came to America,” Dad began, the same story he heard all the time. Because they thought there was something in America. Something special where everyone could complete their dreams. And that the Kittler family were here in America to make it big. To accomplish their dreams. He wondered then if they were here to accomplish their dreams, why did great grammie and pappy never accomplish what they wanted? Why did Dad’s parents never accomplish their dreams? Dad will say, well because they had a family.
But if this was such a great place. If this place was so magical. Then that wouldn’t matter. That wouldn’t be their excuse.
“Do you understand Arturo?” Dad asked him.
“I guess,” Arturo responds with a shrug of his shoulders.
He thinks his father looks sad then. Like he’s trying to help, but when did it get better? When did he feel like he had a voice? When did this feeling of loneliness and hopelessness go away?
During the winter holidays and just like he was promised, when he was thirteen he was able to visit Italy with his family. His father after the party incident seemed worried or concerned, but didn’t say anything he just looked it. While his mother must have heard the story over, but didn’t mention it. Fabian didn’t seem to care, in his own egocentric universe, and Kaylyn would be too young to understand anyway. His relatives were nice. All those lessons from his grandmother came in handy being able to communicate in Italy. Their poor mother lost, unless someone decided to speak English.
It was beautiful in Italy. It felt like an escape. Something away from all the damage in America. He never really wanted to leave, but was promised by his cousin Emilia that she would write to him. And that’s where his stamp collection really began to shine.
His family in Italy also brought something with them, that he could take back to America. Catholicism. His parents weren’t ever too big on religion. They brought up god from time to time. But in Italy, prayers, church on Christmas.
It ignited a curiosity in his teenager mind and so he went out to seek other forms of religion. Which his parents who were always big on independence and allowing their kids to experience the world firsthand allowed him.
Christian church on a Sunday, Paganism, Wicca, Judaism, and so and so forth. He suppose he was looking for a community. But the one philosophy that ever stuck with him was his general experience with Buddhism and Eastern philosophies. Finding inner peace. Not letting one be perturbed by desires and wants.
That the only way you can find peace within yourself is by letting go of the desirable. People wanted cars, wanted to be rich, wanted to be famous. They lived for themselves because that’s what individualistic what America’s secret formula was. But here was a thing, that told you kindness unto others. By accepting one’s self, you found an inner calm.
Though he wouldn’t at eighteen consider himself a Buddhist, he just took some of the philosophies for himself. Instead of wanting and desiring, he instead accepted, and gave to others. He volunteered for soup kitchens, volunteered for an animal shelter, even tried to volunteer for the red cross. It was then perhaps he sought a better world and for once believed the adults telling him it would get better.
It didn’t matter what happened in high school or middle school he was about to enter college and be a teacher. A mentor someone to guide other students. He got a lot of funny looks for blatantly telling people he wanted to be an art teacher. Don’t you know they are cutting those from a lot of schools. But he still wanted to try for something.
His parents might have also thought his choices were a little odd, at sixteen he gave up meat and began to go on this vegetarian diet. As it began to be talked about more. Did it get him to be made fun of more, absolutely. But he decided to kill them with kindness. He’d show them all the power of virtue.
His first entry into the adult world was a college student, he had a plan, a goal. To be a mentor or guide. Completing his schooling in 1999, but never really the type of person to be settled by a degree and always striving to learn something new. Knowledge was his passion and it saved off a lot of the defeatism in his early stages of life.
He never quite impressed schools that he was qualified for hire. Mainly because they all ended being schools he use to be a student at and their impression of him was less than stellar most of the time.
In the end he landed a small secretarial job in an office. Not quite art teacher, mentor, and more a modern job he wanted to avoid. There he met his future wife, well there still engaged at this point, Claudia.
“Appliance Press, how may I direct your call?” he spoke on the phone, though he was watching down the hall where Claudia had passed through for the second time today. She had black hair, and was of average built. But she was beautiful, like an office cat prowling around the copying machine. He probably shouldn’t use that line though, it was less than attractive.
“Oh hi, yes,” a nervous woman on the phone, she gives a laugh, “I am trying to get into contact with a Mr. Peterson. It’s about my refrigerator. Oh yes I have the number somewhere on a paper.”
“Ma’am, there is no need to rush we can take this as slow as you need. I need your name and your case number,” he ask.
There was a long pause. He waited a second. Another second.
“Hello, ma’am?”
Just dial tone. What was all that about? Claudia finally comes slinking over, she’s wearing a pencil tight skirt right at her knees, and red pumps. He stares at her for a mere second. She’s the only person here who has given him this much eye contact or attention.
“Hello,” he told her.
She smiles. He always gets flustered around her, but she also had flirted with him before.
“Was that anything exciting?” she ask pointing to his phone.
“No, a woman’s refrigerator and her phone dropped the call,” he paused, “She sounded frantic on the phone. I hope she’s still not talking without realizing what had happened.”
Claudia gives him a genuine warm look. Now was a good time as any. He was use to his expectations being dampened or changed.
“Claudia,” he pauses, “How do..you...want to get lunch with me, today?”
Claudia laughs, that was an embarrassing string of words.
“With you, I’d adore that,” she said.
“Oh uh that’s,” wait she was going to go get lunch with him, “great. I look forward to it.”
She just smiles and shakes her head. Why was socializing at this point so painful? Because most people ignored him the moment he got into any of his intense discussion. They just sort of stared at him like he were no interest of them. He rarely got this close to an actual conversation and it happened to be a rather awkward one. How long had he been working here? A year. He had known her for a year and he was failing at trying to make an impression.
12:30 pm
“Where are you taking me to lunch?” she said sneaking up from behind him. He wasn’t expecting that so he turned around rather quickly.
“Okay I nearly had a heart attack before lunch,” he said, “Um, a cafe. If coffee and a...uh pastry sounds fine with you.”
She just smiles and he finds himself smiling back.
“That sounds wonderful, you lead the way,” she says.
“It’s not far from here, I was going to walk,” he tells her.
“Oh so you’re a true romantic,” she winks at him and teasingly laughs. He shrugs. He suppose so. But it didn’t make sense to him to hurt the environment further by driving his car somewhere literally a ten minute walk.
“Also trying to reduce my carbon footprint,” he tells her. She scrunches up her face in thought.
“You really believe that global stuff?” she ask him more seriously. Was that a terrible thing?
“Yes,” he said.
“You get quirkier by the minute,”
He believed about doing the best for the environment. What could he say? Was it a quirk? He wasn’t so sure. He just didn’t want any more greenhouse gases in the atmosphere or people to throw their trash on the ground. This land is sacred. It should be cherished as sacred. Or at least what Eastern philosophy believed. Maybe she was right and he should be more Western in his views about the climate.
“We can drive,” he told her.
“No,” she said, “It’s cute. We wouldn’t want to increase your carbon footprint after all.”
He couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not, but he simply began to lead the way. He wondered if he had done something wrong. He wondered if he should have done it better. He should have been more of a gentleman right? Taken her to his car. But he wasn’t sure she would be impressed by his 90s Ford when all these new 2000s cars were coming out.
Out in the urban air they began to walk on pavement.
“What about you?” he ask her.
“About the climate stuff?” she ask, she shrugs, “I find it a little silly. By the time we truly impact the earth’s climate we all be dead by then.”
He nods without saying a word. Guess there were some people who thought that as well. He wasn’t so sure what to believe on it. He just knew hurt the Earth was like hurting yourselves in the long run. Or so he believed.
“Makes sense,” he told her.
“So Mr. Environmental,” she says, “What else do you like to do beside save the earth?”
“Paint, collect information,” he tells her.
“Like?” she ask, “Collect information like?”
“Victor Gruen designed shopping malls here in America, they were meant to be like city squares, with living corridors and shopping malls. But America bastardized his project,” he told her, “Or that America is the only system that has a pure economy. Most other places have an economy that is blended.”
“I’ll probably forget all of that,” she tells him.
“Most people do,” he tells her.
Still it was nice though to have some human company. It has been a while since someone is actually giving him their time. But with the way he saw this going he didn’t know how long this would last.
They gave each other pieces that the other didn’t have or needed. Claudia helped Arturo come more out of his shell, experience new things. For their Winter Holiday on their first year anniversary they want logging in a log cabin. While she taught him how to engage with people more. He taught her how to look more in.
But that didn’t necessarily fix any of the problems Arturo had. He was still invisible to most people and they tended to often forget who he was. Or at least they pretended to pretend to forget who he was. He watched his colleagues in the same field as him get promoted. While the only promotion he ever got was taking calls in a cubicle than the secretary.
He made more money at least. But he wondered when his dreams would be realized. When other people’s dreams would be realized. Claudia was a successful cook, and baker, and her dream was to open up her own restaurant. Instead she was filing copies in the same office firm as he was. All about appliances. Broken down ovens, broken down refrigerators, ordering refrigerators from their website.
He tried not to let that bother him. He would remind himself that desires like that would never allow for clear, open mind. He tried to block it out. See the good. Give to others. One day, one day soon it would mean something.
They were sitting across from each other with candles flickering. A home cooked meal sat on the dining table and wine glasses were half full. He stared at her, she always looked dreamy in soft light. He had a habit of tracing her outline in his mind. What she’d look like on canvas. She called it his kink. He didn’t know about that.
“Um,” he began. She cocked her head to the side, black hair brushing across her shoulder, she was wearing a beautiful midnight blue cocktail dress.
“Um?” she laughs, “Boy do I miss your awkward attempt at romanticism. That or you’re breaking up on me, on our second year anniversary too.”
She pouts her lower lip. He frantically grabs her hand, no that wasn’t it. She gives him this look like she was teasing him.
“Sorry, I am not very good at this,” he tells her.
“You’re good when you’re not trying,” she tells him, and kisses his cheek, “So, was is it?”
“Well, I really like you,” he tells her, he scrunches up his face, “I mean I love you. And. I want to spend my life with you.”
He tries to grab a box off the table hidden behind the vase that he put her favorite orchids in. Instead he spilled a glass of wine on the table. At least it was white.
“Shit!” he says. She laughs.
“Relax, you’re cute when flustered,” she says taking a napkin and dabbing the liquid off the table.
“Claudia, will you marry me,” he ask her. She pauses at him.
“Yes,” she tells him without any hesitation.
Well that was a relief. He suddenly felt like he could relax. She shakes her head and kisses him on the forehead. He finally able to reach for the ring box and gives it to her. She grabs it placing her hands on his, and gives them a comforting rub before taking the box.
She opens it silently.
“You’re so modest,” she tells him, “I love it. Thank you.”
“Can I gather everyone around real quick?” McKellen the office gossip was trying to garner others attention. Claudia looked furious.
“Ellen, please,” she protest.
But now there is a crowd of individuals from the office gathered around. He couldn’t help, but have to sneak by the crowd. Making copies, but couldn’t help overhearing.
“I have some big news, our office fox is now engaged,” at first there were some disgruntled disappointments, “I am looking at the hottest office couple right now Claudia. And?” Ellen bends down to look at Claudia, “What’s his name again?”
Claudia crosses her arms across her chest.
“It’s Arturo,” she says, he thinks it’s because she was annoyed with the way everyone was reacting to the news. He felt some eyes on him. Oh please hurry up and copy he didn’t want to get into this. It shouldn’t have been spread as public knowledge until they were ready. He wasn’t upset with Claudia, except she probably shouldn’t have told McKellen.
One of the guys, Russell “Rusty” looked at him. Tall guy, chiseled jaw, like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast really.
“Arturo, wow you little weasel, you been with us for how long,” Russel looked around, it seemed it was an actual question, “a few months.”
“I have been working here for two years,” Arturo told him.
“I knew that,” Russell said sounding offended. Arturo just looked away embarrassingly. Their private moment turned into an exploitative moment. Of ridicule. He felt ridiculed.
“Well, uh thank you for the congratulations,” Arturo said trying not to start conflict. Russell just smiles at him and he looks away. They never had interactions before. Beside speaking lingo. Make a copy of this, print this out, can you check the receipt of this client, I need you to look over that fault refrigerator claim. This was the first time they ever had a conversation and it felt like conflict. But he tried to show that it didn’t bother him.
“Not a problem buddy,” Russell tells him, “This guy is a hard worker. He’s been with us for two years and he’s a great worker. In this...office. You know what he’s earned boys? A drink with us tonight. To celebrate this occassion.”
“Oh...uh,” Arturo scrunched up his face, “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t drink.”
“Nonsense,” Russell looks at Claudia, “Mind if we steal your boy toy for the night.”
“That’s his decision, not mine,” Claudia tells him, “Ellen, please.”
“Sorry, sorry it’s just so exciting,” Ellen tells her with a girlish squeal and jumps off the chair she was standing on. While he’s left to be eaten by the sharks. He seem weak otherwise right, not being able to fend of these guys. On the hunt.
He wondered if this was some kind of jealousy. He didn’t know how else to interpret this scenario. “So, what do you say Arty?” Russell asked, “Drink on me. With the boys. You earned it.”
How exactly?
“I will sit in the bar with you,” he tells Russell, that was a compromise he hoped they were willing to accept.
Russell just pats his shoulder.
“Why are you so tense buddy? I am just being a friend, we all work together,” Russell said. Except that a few minutes ago you didn’t know how long I had worked here. And hadn’t spoken to me outside of work until today.
“I doubt that,” he lets his inner thoughts slip out.
Russell looks insulted again or wounded.
“Ouch, come on no harm here, no harm, how about tonight after work? We’ll meet in the parking lot,” Russell, pauses, “Don’t be late.” he laughs and walks off. With that said the gang disperses and he has a rather uncomfortable feeling about the circumstance.
6:00pm
“You don’t have to,” Claudia told him.
“I know I don’t,” he told her, “I’ll entertain the idea at least.”
“I wish you’d talk more like that to them then to me, I know you’re capable of a lot,” she tells him.
“I wish I would to, but sometimes my brain freezes up and all the good comebacks are much later,” he laughs a little. She smiles.
They kiss briefly on the lips and he walks away from her towards the parking lot. He could never afford quite the newest car, he saw Russell, and his “friends”. There’s Timothy, he’s as tall as Russell, but really thin like looking at a walking skeleton with skin, then there’s Jake he’s muscular, and handsome with ebony skin.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Russell said, “I knew I could count on you.”
“Hello,” Arturo told them.
“You’re right Rusty, he’s quiet,” Timothy just smiles and looks at him as if he’s an adorable toy. It annoys him a little no one should look at him as if he’s a toy.
“Let’s just hit the town bar,” Russell says, “We’ll all take my car. Since you’re just sitting at the bar, be the designated driver then Arty. Won’t you?”
Please? No manners. And they were acting like he had to earn their respect. The machismo. He wasn’t in high school any more, none of them were.
“I’ll meet you there, in my car,” Arturo told them.
Jake booed.
“Not cool man,” Jake told him, “You’re roughing it out with the big boys now.”
“I said what I said, and it stands,” Arturo told them. He didn’t need mom and dad to save him. Or Claudia. He could do it himself he just chose not to. He just wished this didn’t count towards his road of good behavior.
“Fine,” Russell said, “Meet us there.” He gave him a glare, but Arturo didn’t care. He’d humor them, it didn’t mean he had to be like them. It wasn’t a release for him. He didn’t need to unwind because he had found completeness. His completeness was understanding people defined themselves by their artificial wants and desires.
7:20 pm
The bar is loud, but not crowded. He didn’t quite understand why the music was so loud then. Russell takes a swig of beer.
“You know I am going cut to the chase,” Russell suddenly says switching from laughing with the two other guys, and instead giving him a serious look, he turns back to Jake and Timothy, “I don’t get guys like you Arty.”
Arturo looks at him.
“You don’t know me so I assume you wouldn’t,” Arturo responds.
“Got bite,” Jake says as he takes a swig of his beer.
“You know I might not have gotten a college degree, but you Arty are a little bird,” Russell continues, “Did you know when the big birds go and fly off, the little male birds who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance with a female bird, go fuck the female birds behind their backs? You’re a little bird. You’ve never talked to any of us. You never came up to any of us in the office. And you go behind my back, the big bird and fuck Claudia.”
“We’re engaged,” Arturo corrects.
“Oh excuse me you fucked her then put a no other guy zone on her after you went behind the big birds back,” Russell told him, “Claudia was mine. You know that. I been eying that ass until the moment was right. And you had to go around the other guys back. This is why you don’t fit into that office. Because you do not know who to suck up to.”
“Low blow man, low blow,” does Jake just parrot everything Russell is saying.
Arturo continues to stare at Russell. They had this notion that he never came up to them. But why was he the one who was expected to initiate conversation with them? And whenever he did try himself they ended up walking off. Hooting about something with another individual. Talking about the game. Talking about shallow points of view.
“While an interesting view I do not care to humor,” Arturo told him, “I went no behind no one’s back. I did what you were too scared to do.”
Russell shook his head.
“That’s a shame, I was trying to help you, you’re going to regret not learning your place,” Russell told him. He turned back to the guys and points to some football team on the television, “Did you see the receive.”
“I know, it was awesome,” Jack said.
“Oh oh replay,” Timothy says pointing to the TV.
Arturo sat there for a moment. He never disturbed them. Never provoked them. He wasn’t like them, didn’t have the same interest as them, but what right did they have dictating what his actions were and weren’t? He got up and left wordlessly. There was nothing to say. A part of him fantasize about digging a pen into Russell’s neck, but that didn’t solve anything and didn’t bring peace to the world.
Life seemed oddly mundane. He achieved nothing like everyone else in the world achieved nothing. Marriage and work was the goal. But he was in a job that gave him no life or passion or direction. He was with the woman he loved, and appreciated that. He was glad for her in his life. Their families got along well enough and they got along well enough.
But where was this going? Bad people were still running the world. He never really feared Russell and his goons and they left him alone after that night in the bar. So he always assumed it to be drunken ramblings. He found himself experiencing fog from this world.
His paintings took him out of these surreal cages. But nothing he was ever told ever came true. Good people rarely won and when they did, the more genuine and honest you were the more you were questioned. While great liars were praised.
“Have you guys decided on a wedding date or year?” McKellen asked Claudia, while they were pouring coffee into some styrofoams cup in the business’ lobby.
“Sometime next year,” Claudia looked at him. He looked back and sort of nodded. McKellen smiled at him. He wouldn’t say they got along now, she just acknowledged him more because of their engagement. He didn’t mind, he didn’t really want to talk to her much anyway. “White?” McKellen asked.
“I am not really a virgin,” Claudia laughs a little.
“We all aren’t, but a wedding is like pretending you are again,” McKellen tells her. Claudia scoffs.
“You’re awful,” she tells her.
McKellen snicker snorts and continues to look at him. He sort of fidgets with the rim of his cup.
“Do you ever tell her dirty things in Italian?” McKellen ask him. He nearly chokes. He feels his face go hot. He looks away.
“Oh my I embarrassed him,” McKellen says.
“Ellen, please, this isn’t safe for work,” Claudia tells her.
“Oh so he does,” McKellen giggles.
Claudia looks embarrassed and squeals between her fingers.
“How do you say, you’re so sexy in Italian?” McKellen ask.
“Sei caldo,” Arturo mumbles in his coffee. Now McKellen is screaming like a schoolgirl. She looks at him with interest.
“Your dirty talk must be so hot, because that makes me melt,” McKellen said.
“Tame yourself,” Claudia tells her.
It was time for him to take his leave at this point. Or else she would have him spewing a whole lexicon of not for safe work words in Italian. Wouldn’t that be considered cheating in that case? He felt his heart racing. He walked out of the lobby holding his cup of coffee heading towards his desk. This he supposed was the dream.
You had to be grateful for the simple things in life. Next year he would be married to the woman he loved with decent families that got along. No crazy stories about how each family wanted to strangle each other. No crazy stories about his fiancee’s father trying to chase him out of their life.
It was nice and simple. He supposed that was harmony enough. Except it wasn’t what he wanted for people. It wasn’t about him, it was about seeing a world with a broken infrastructure and seeing how much it had failed people. He wanted better lives for the people he cared for and loved. He wish there was a way to get Claudia the things she dreamed of.
She recently went back to schooling to get her culinary degree. But she’d probably get a job as a waiter, getting low paying tips. She stay here in a dying company in Appliance Press. People didn’t need catalogs any more for kitchen appliances and machinery.
They could go to department stores these days. Even commission based sales door to door made more money than people who subscribed to a magazine and order. He started to believe their customer base was merely crazy old ladies these days.
Still he was supposed to be satisfied with simplicity. But life wanted to test that simplicity with complexity. Sitting at his office desk he would get to work on orders. And hopefully someone wouldn’t complain about a non complaints today. He’d only get good calls.
Great calls. That’s what he told himself as he began to log into his computer to file away his orders and send them out.
4:30 pm
Someone puts a hand on his shoulder, he knows it is not Claudia’s hand. Her touch is much softer, much warmer, much more loving.
“Heya champ,” he knew that voice. Russell hadn’t much bothered him since last year, beside work. And an occasional side comments. Though he didn’t particularly figure Russell a threat. Just someone also lonely and in his surreal cages. But instead of striving for any meaning, he strived for desires, wants, temptations, shallow greed.
“Russell,” he replied, “Do you need something from me?”
“Overheard from Ellen and Claudia that you and the lady are planning to get married next year,” Russell said, “Doing it the traditional way and what not.”
“This is correct,” he responded dryly.
“So me and the boys have a little something set up for you,” Russell tells him.
“I am not really interested,” Arturo tells him, turning his chair back to his computer in front of him.
He’s still behind him, but it didn’t really bother him as he went to go back to work. Russell places his hands on the back of his office chair. Almost leaning it back with his forearms.
“Look if you’re still mad about what I said last year, get over it, I was drunk,” Russell tells him, “I am trying to be nice.”
Arturo wasn’t buying it and tried to ignore him. Continue to type away on his computer, hoping for a phone call to steal his time. Now those crazy cat ladies were going to be his savior.
“If it wasn’t clear, I am here to work, not play high school games,” Arturo told him.
Russell sighs.
“Why can’t you just ever fit in what is expected?” Russell ask him. Arturo simply shrugs and continues to stare at his computer screen. He feels someone tug at the back of his chair, “Guess we’ll have to do it the hard way groom to be.”
Russell spins the back of the chair to face him, without him having any time to brace him. Russell does a come here gesture to someone and Jack is walking over. The office has been slowly dwindling of people as it’s almost time for people to get off. He had another hour and he had to deal with this bullshit. Russell points.
“Take the lower half, I’ll take the upper half,” Russell says.
What? He didn’t take Russell to be some murderer, he barely felt threatened by his presence as is most of the time. But that was extremely vague. He went to get up, but Russell just pushed him back down. As he did so he nearly lost his balance which was the perfect opportunity for Jack to grab his legs.
“Hey,” Arturo called out.
“Sorry buddy, could have just done this the easy way,” Russell told him as he landed on the ground with a soft thud.
“I didn’t want to do it in the first place,” he told them, “We’re grown adults.” Russell picking him up by the upper body, he’s now being held like he’s a rolled carpet.
“Doesn’t mean we cannot have fun Arty,” Russell tells him, “Come on Connor didn’t protest this much when he got engaged or married.”
This was his least favorable moment at the workforce. He squirmed to free himself of their grip, but all he was getting was skin burn from twisting so much.
“Let go,” he demanded.
“Come on Arty,” Russell said, he looked to Jack.
“Arty in an art box,” Jack said in a singsong way as if that was suppose to some ease his reluctance, Arturo just tried to kick him to no avail. Jack’s arm nearly dropped, but he didn’t really have the strength to fight back. He tried to yank his arms out of Russell’s grip. He never saw Russell as a threat, but he also didn’t want to sit back and take what they had in store for him either. He continued to twist and squirm.
Trying to make the experience as unpleasant for them as two grown men carried him across a sea of cubicles until they entered the supply room. There he was dropped into a cabinet where they kept their empty manilla folders and envelopes.
With the doors wide open, he got up because he was no longer in their control. He tried to rush out of the cabinet, but Jack shoved him back down. He actually hitting the back of the cabinet with a thud. The doors quickly shut before he could try to get out again.
He hit one of the doors, “Fuck you! Get me out of here.”
“Just sit tight in there Arty, we’ll come back for you afterward,” he heard the key lock the cabinet doors. He banged on the door again.
“We’re grown adults! Fuck Russel get me out of here!” it was the first time he felt his heart begin to race. What if they didn’t come back for him?
“Jesus fucking christ Arty, don’t be a bitch, when we come back you’re going to be a man,” Russell told him.
“Fuck you! Get me out!”
“Should I get the wine?” he heard Jack in the distance.
“Yeah,” Russell said, “Just sit tight Arty”
“Get me out Russell!” it was the first time he had raised his voice at anyone before. Sure he had gotten annoyed with people before. But he felt his ears going hot, and his heart was beginning to race now. He had never felt such boiling rage before. Sure he might have been angry or sullen, but now he was just pissed. Wine? Like this was a game. It was dark in here. He didn’t really like it much, it was cramp, already getting hot, “Russell!” he heard footsteps, “Russell!” the office supply door close, but just before it closed all the well.
“Sit tight Arty, we’ll be back,” Russell whispers. Now he’s locked in a cabinet in an office supply room. It was dark. He slammed his fist on the door again and growled under his breath. Which surprised him because he normally was a sea of calm. But how the fuck could anyone be calm about this situation?
He leaned over the door a little again, his hand already hurt from pounding on the door. He rattled the double doors for a second. Come the fuck on. How was this thing so resilient? How the fuck did he get out of here? He didn’t care what Russell had planned for him? He didn’t like it in here. It reminded him too much of a coffin.
There wasn’t much peace and harmony and accepting your faith could do to make this situation better.
“Russell!” he called out. He couldn’t fucking hear him. To get wine and whatever else he was planning, probably a stripper, meant he have to go down the hall to the lobby. Jesus it was so cramp in here. Even with all the shelves removed, and the envelopes. He kicked at the door instead in hopes that would pop the door open.
Trying an awkward kneeling position he tried to fiddle with the latch in hopes he could break it open. How did he come up with that one? He was no superhero. He had no super strength to do that. Nor was he in a movie.
“Okay I am done having fun let me out!” he shouted.
They cannot hear you Arturo. He sighed and sat back for a second. Maybe Russell would just be right back. Have a little faith?
Have faith? Have faith? In Russell? They had never been friends. They spoke one time outside of work and that was because he wanted to berate him. And now he was behaving as if they were friends suddenly. What did they have planned? He hated this situation. He kicked the door of the cabinet again to no avail.
“Russell!” he felt like a small child again, like he was back in grade school, when the older kids use to push him around. That’s not how adults were suppose to feel. Life was supposed to feel mature, but right now it felt more like a prison. He tried hard to desperately get over that feeling. Like he was trapped. He was about to marry the woman he loved. He did love her. But neither of them were really where they wanted to be.
He didn’t want to feel like a child in this moment. That isn’t how it was suppose to be. To feel hopeless. Or this hopeless. Or more hopeless than he normally would.
No fuck that. Why should he give up? Moving forward again in the cramp corridors he tried to fiddle with the latch that kept the cabinet locked. Maybe there was some way he could hack through the lock. Maybe there was some way he could break it or pick it. He didn’t know, he didn’t have anything to crack it open.
“Hey!” he shouted at the doors. How many workers did they still have here in the office building? Someone should need office supplies soon right? Maybe they’d hear him. He began to rattle the door, most people left between now and six. Someone should hear him. Right? Someone.
Not that they ever had heard him before. He sat in the office and the only time they remembered him was when they were reminded of him. Even when Claudia got him to talk more, he just watched as everyone globbed together like sheep in their little social herds and just speak to the people they were most comfortable with. He was always the odd man out that floated through groups not really fitting in. Not really being remembered either.
Fuck. He wanted out of here. He was tired of the dark. He was tired of it being cramped. He was starting to get sore.
It was sort of putting him on edge. Like their office building was filled with ghost. It had never felt this quiet or this dead before. He rattles the door again. He pulls at the latch. He just wants out of this damn stupid cabinet.
“I am locked in a cabinet!” that’s an embarrassing statement he didn’t think he’d ever say in his life. Well how did you get in there Arturo? Russell and Jack. And you let them carry you? I tried to break free. Why didn’t you try harder?
He banged at the door.
“Please, someone!” he called out.
The only thing he could hear was his own breathing and his heartbeat. Racing. Racing. Watch when Russell and the others come back it will be only five minutes that had passed, but in here it felt like an eternity.
When was he going to give up? He was only going to make things worse upon reveal. He could imagine it now, him frantically trying to open the door, pounding, begging, calling out. Russell opening the door and him flying out. The sound of corks from the wine bottles popping off. And more than likely it was a stripper standing there seeing him at his most defeated.
Gah. This was frustrating. This negativity was not like him. This hopeless thought process was not something he entertained often. But when you can hear your frantic, nervous breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat drumming with quicken, frantic pace it only reinforces the idea that you’re an idiot.
He was being rather silly, it probably hadn’t been that long in here. But it felt like an eternity already and he just wanted nothing to do with this cabinet any more.
**
Smoke began to creep through the crack of the cabinet. He had at first given up sitting in the cabinet waiting to hear footsteps. He gave a feeble cough as he breathed in. Sitting up, what was going on? How long had it been? Smoke? It couldn’t be.
“Is anyone there!” he called out, “I am in here!”
He begins to rattle the door a little. Someone surely would have to hear him. Except they hadn’t heard him before. He gives another cough as he inhales some smoke.
“What’s going on out there!” This was starting to feel like a dumb series of call outs. He coughed again. The smoke like a lazy phantom kept coming into the cracks. And he was beginning to feel on edge. His skin was beginning to crawl with goosebumps, his heart was racing in the try not to panic, but you will olympics.
“Someone!”
Pounding on the doors of the cabinet. What was going out there? He coughed. He tried to break the lock this time more frantically. How long had he been in here? He tried to peek through the tightly shut “crack” of the cabinet but he couldn’t see anything out of it in the first place.
“I…” he coughed a mouthful of smoke, “In...a cabinet. Please!”
Please what hear him? The cabinets doors were starting to become hot to the touch. It’s then he knew. Why him? He frantically pounds on the door despite it being hot and getting hotter. He needed out of here. He needed to get outside of this cabinet. Then what? If the doors opened anyway he would be engulfed in the heat. He coughed.
Why hadn’t anyone heard him? Why hadn’t anyone come back to get him? Why him? Why not Russell who shoves people in locked cabinets in the first place? Why not someone else who has hurt people without provocation? Why him?
Fuck this cabinet! Get him out of this cabinet. He coughs again. This time inhaling a lot more smoke as the cabinet began to fill with it. It was getting hot in here. Actually hot. He coughed.
Everything you’re ever told is be good to your neighbors. Be kind to people. Be good and don’t disagree with people. So, why was he the one locked in a cabinet? Why was he the one here right now?
“Let me out!” he yelled out.
No one is here Arturo. But, why? He didn’t want to die. He shouldn’t die. Anything anyone ever told you is if you were good, you were untouchable by the forces of evil. Really? Because he was beginning to choke for air. He didn’t want to die.
What did he do wrong? Did he not try to achieve his dreams hard enough? Did he not help enough? He tried to help the poor, give to those less fortunate, donate as much as he could, help as much as he could volunteer for this and that. So, why him?
Why him? He was suppose to be….he was suppose to be good. He didn’t want to die. He try harder next time then. He try harder this time, just...he wasn’t. He shouldn’t be here. Get him out of this stupid fucking coffin. It wasn’t a cabinet any more it was a coffin. At this point it was a coffin.
A sudden rush, a sensation of frustration overwhelmed him, his coughing surrounded him as much as the smoke did. He didn’t care how hot the door was at this point as he frantically hit the door one more time, “Open! Let me out!”
“I don’t want to die here!”
“I don’t want to die in this way!”
“I promise” he coughs, “I promise. Whoever is listening I promise to” he goes into a coughing fit, as he gasp for some more air, “I promise to dedicate myself to others better.” Please. He would cry, but he couldn’t even feel himself sweat that it was hot in this box. He just continued to bang on the door.
“Please! Please I am begging. I am begging!”
He didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want to die here. Not in this work. He’d try harder. Go back to school. Be the teacher anyway he could. He would would marry Claudia and give her the dreams she desired. Get her that restaurant she wanted. Anything anyone wanted, he’d give it to them. He’d give them more.
He screamed out. The side of his knuckle at this point was hurting. His hands were hot. He could barely touch the door, but somehow his own frustration allowed him to ignore that. All he could was scream helplessly.
Please he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. Please. Please. Let him out!
“LET” he gasped and coughed, when he couldn’t hit the door any more with his hands, he kicked at it, “I want…” he was coughing and crying and in hysterics. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to die here. He had done everything anyone had ever told him for a successful life. And if he wasn’t trapped. He could achieve what he wanted. He could get out of this cabinet.
He screamed one more final time, through gasp, just a single scream of frustration.
“FUCK YOU!” he didn’t know who he was shouting at this point, he could barely say it without getting a lung full of black smoke.
Just fuck you. He did everything that was ever asked. He did everything ever told to be a virtuous person. Just fuck you. Fuck you.
There was a white light in his eyes. It created spectacular halos in his vision. There were figures. Shadows. Illuminated by the rings of light.
“Can you hear me?”
Someone was calling.
“Can you find a name tag?”
The beams of light created beautiful fractals of debris in the air. Dazzling gleams. For a second it felt the closest euphoric touch to the universe.
“If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand,”
“What’s his name?”
“I cannot find an ID,”
“It’s going to be okay, we’re going to get you help, do you understand?”
Fade to black, a tunnel, the light is closing. The voices continue. A surrealist reality. Between the cosmos, and between reality. Being lifted up. Were these last memories? Or were he recalling memories? Were these happening now? Or was he dreaming in the cabinet?
“Stay with us,”
“You’re on the way to the hospital,”
“Can he hear us?”
“Even if he is, he won’t remember most of it,”
“Don’t give up,”
“He’s going into shock,”
“Come on, you got this,”
“Stay with us,”
“It’s touch and go from here, we’ve nearly lost him a couple times. He might not make it. His burns are extensive, but I am more surprised he even managed to live how much smoke he inhaled,”
“Can he hear us?”
“He might, he might not. But he probably won’t remember what was said,”
“Can we see him?”
“Of course. Fair warning the damage is graphic,”
“So was giving birth to three children,”
“Fair enough,”
“Arturo, honey it’s your mother,”
“And your father,”
“If you can hear us, please just don’t give up. Come back to us,”
“You’re one resilient kid, I know what you have been through is trying. But I have faith in you son, I have faith,”
“We’ll be praying for you. But you have to want to fight,”
“Please be strong, be the strong young man I know you can be,”
“Fight,” ………… ……………………………………… ………………………………….
“Is he going to die?”
“We don’t really know yet, he’s been in and out.”
“He can hear us right?”
“Maybe, maybe not,”
“I can see him and talk to him,”
“We’d prefer immediate family,”
“Please just let me see him,”
“Very well, I can see it’s very important to you,”
“Hey Arturo, hope I said that right,”
“Look man, I may have been an asshole. But you have to believe me when I say I didn’t set that fire. That wasn’t the plan. I ordered a pizza. That asshole was taking forever. That’s beside the point. I might have thought….you were weird and quiet. Everyone thought you thought you were better than them. With your holier than thou attitude, but I….the printer went on the fritz. They say it was an electrical fire. But I don’t want you to die…..I never wanted you dead. We should have never….left you in there. I hope that heart of yours is still golden,” -clears throat-
“So...when you wake up, I can…..beg for your forgiveness, please forgive me Arturo. We should have never,”
“Right now we’re just trying to keep him stable. He’s not really out of the woods yet. That’s a discussion for later, perhaps.”
“May I?”
“Of course,”
“Hey sweetheart,”
-whimper-
“I need you to get through this, please, for us,”
-sob-
“We…..I am sorry, I should have stayed at the office. I should have been there….to”
-cries-
“Oh God…..”
-sobbing-
“....why did this happen to us,”
There were bands of light in his eyes. Staring up at white lights. He had seen this skyscape before. Rings of light. Prisms of light that reflected different bands of color in his ocular vision. Bands, beautiful bands. There had been voices for a while, but he doesn’t really remember what any of them said. It just sounded like distance words in the depths, like trying to hear what people had to say underwater while they were surfaced.
Figures had lapsed before him. In and out. Like drifting clouds. You just had to figure out what shape they were. People or angels. The light in his eyes didn’t help him figure that out. Someone is moving around, but he’s trying to gain a sense of awareness.
A sense of self.
He couldn’t speak even if he tried. Something was in his way. He just end up trying to reach for one of the clouds that drifted away so many times. He saw them move towards him.
“Do you need something?” they asked, “You can’t talk because we had to intubate you.”
They spoke like this was a conversation they had before. Except he doesn’t remember it. He just wanted to know where he was. He stared at the individual with confusion. They took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “You’re in the hospital. You’ve been in the hospital.”
The hospital. What has happened over time wasn’t clicking. He found himself drifting again.
Figures surrounded by radiant rings of light. He stared at them. Though their details came out more clearly to him. A bit more recognizable, his mother had the same pensive, narrow facial features he had, and his father still chiseled as ever. They had the family genetics that made them look younger than their actual age.
“Dear,” his mother said hitting his father’s shoulder lightly, Dad looks alert and catches his gaze. He tried to talk, forgetting again about the obstruction. Immediately his father looked concerned.
“You’re awake,” his dad said.
“You have a tube in your throat, you cannot speak right now,” his mother reassured him by trying to grab his hand.
“It’s just good to see you,” his dad told him, “Do you know who we are?”
He shook his head yes instead.
“You’re in the hospital,” his mother told him, “No need to be alarmed. You made it.”
His mother smiles, but he’s not sure if he’s smiling. Grateful to be alive. Maybe ashamed that he cursed out a higher power as his possible last words. He wanted to say something, ask a question, but he couldn’t. He ended up just coughing on the obstruction.
“You’ll have plenty of chance,” his dad told him, “Claudia’s been worried. It’s good to bring her some good news. You’ll start waking up and talking more. And everything will be fine.”
Was the reassurance for him or his father, he wondered. He just shook his head in whatever response they would interpret it as.
“It’s good to have you back,” his mother said.
He just responded with a grunt or that’s the way it came out. Or a groan. He just felt the grip of exhaustion hit him. Fatigue set in again.
Painkillers didn’t make pain magically go away. He could still feel the burns even when he was asleep. He was tired, but also in an odd state of alertness. And more awareness of his surroundings. He wished he hadn’t, he was cold, but they told him that was because of the burns. He felt the pain no matter what he did to ignore it.
“You’re up,” his mother said walking in. He just stared at the wall for a second. He nodded for a moment.
“Mhm,” he responded quietly.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“Tired,” he replied dryly.
“Oh honey,” she said, “But you’re very strong.”
That’s what they say to make themselves feel better. Because they cannot stomach the person they love suffering. It’s just a way to deflect their concern and worry. If they hide their tears, their pain about the situation then surely it helps him, right? It doesn’t because he can see them trying to hide it. She’ll go home and cry to his father after this.
He sees Kaylyn and Fabian walking behind his mother. Kaylyn is wearing a flowing summer dress. They are the only ones who come here in with a smile. And probably get berated by their mother, probably telling them things like they were being insensitive. He didn’t mind it. Fabian would bring a Gameboy Advance SP and they’d play Pokemon together.
He prefered that.
“Hey crispy,” Fabian said giving him a salute.
He smiled, but he was an asshole.
“Fabian!” his mother exasperated.
“What?” Fabian asked.
“It’s fine,” he responded, he had to take a second before saying, “it’s kind of true.”
“You’re burnt in more places than mom’s french toast,” Kaylyn teased. And his mother just shook her head and rolled her eyes. He smiled and sort of laughed.
“That is very true,” he told her.
“You’re suppose to be here supporting your brother,” their mother told them.
By being depressing about it? Telling him how she was very proud about him. He wanted to forget about the pain, not be reminded of it. Anything to lessen it and distract himself.
“I am supporting him,” Kaylyn told him, “Now he knows cannibals won’t try to eat him. He’s too well done.” she began to crack up. Kaylyn face did this thing where it would scrunch up, and she’d start to snort as she lost control when she laughed. She looked like a mixture of their parents, for a woman she had their father’s strong jaw, but she was trying to be a model. She had rebelled against everything their family had taught them. She wouldn’t strive just for good enough. She wanted the best.
She had an ambitious drive. And worked hard to get where she wanted to be. She didn’t take no for an answer. Sometimes she didn’t wait for the right door to open, she shoved her whole foot through the door and barge it open. He admired that about her.
While Fabian was just naturally likeable. He seemed to have no real aspirations. He worked at an insurance firm, but didn’t really strive to climb up the ladder. Usually display a relaxed, “if I get there I get there, if I don’t well then I don’t. I see too many assholes with type A personality with heart disease to know that I am going to avoid all the divorce, children stress” mentally about it all.
“Are the treatments helping?” Fabian ask as he takes a seat next to his bedside, though he’s wearing a smile on his face as Kaylyn lost control of herself.
“I am sure,” he takes a second, “they will over time. Right now it feels more like a string of torture techniques disguised as recovery.”
“Has Claudia visited?” his mother asked.
When she thought he was asleep, but he couldn’t really well sleep. There were times when he was sobbing to nurses, embarrassingly, because of the pain. They tell him all the patients go through it, and they have seen their fair share of patients crying out for help. He wanted to know when that pain would go away.
Sometimes he’d just keep his eyes closed when Claudia came in. To hear her voice. But she sounded like she had burdened herself with the situation.
“Now and then,” he replied. “You two can still have a beautiful wedding,” his mother says. Was that suppose to be reassurance? Had they spoken?
“Has Claudia visited you?” he asked her.
“She’s part of the family,” his mother told him. Which wasn’t a direct yes or no. But it frustrated him nonetheless.
“What did she tell you?” he asked her.
His mother smiled at him, at least it wasn’t too terrible.
“She just wants to know how you’re doing, how the recovering is doing,” she tells him, “She’ll come. I promise she’ll come.”
She couldn’t make promises for another person. He knew she was trying, but he...couldn’t help feeling like he was missing something. Like he was still in that cabinet.
A Few Days Later
If the burns weren’t a problem then the debridement of the wounds was. Sometimes it was more pain than the actual burns themselves. And all he could think of is Claudia coming through that door any day. Any moment. He just wanted to see her. He wouldn’t fault her if she didn’t want to be engaged to him any more. He wouldn’t fault her for leaving him, he just wanted to see her again and hear her voice one last time.
So, when someone walked into his treatment room he was expecting it to be her. Instead he felt his heart sink and a pit in his stomach develop. There before him was Russell. Holding an orange envelope. It been better if he had never seen him again. It had been better if Russell never came, but Arturo would humor him. Again.
“I heard you were up more,” Russell said, “So I came to give you a get well card.”
“To ease your guilt,” Arturo told him.
“Sheesh just lay it on like that, I guess, it was suppose to be an apology,” Russell told him. But an apology was another way of saying, try to absolve my guilt.
“Thank you, leave it, and don’t talk to me again,” Arturo told him.
“I guess I deserve that,” Russell said, “Honestly I didn’t want it to happen that way….I didn’t...Arturo….”
“I do not want to hear your confession riddled guilt, save it for a chapel and a priest,” he told him, “And live with it. That’s the only forgiveness I can give you.”
Russell looked down at the floor. Arturo looked away. Who knew nearly suffocating to death from smoke inhalation and trapped in a cabinet would do for not caring about another person’s problems. Specifically the person who trapped him in there. He didn’t care how guilty Russell felt. He wasn’t harmed. He ran off, like a coward.
And considering he was not in jail right now or his parents didn’t press charges, meant he’d get away. Not even a charge of negligence that led him here. How broken was this system. A prank gone wrong.
“Just get better,” Russell said waving his hand and walking out of the room.
As Russell left another person walked in Dr. Warren. He was not in charge of his treatment with his burns, but had been involved in his treatment since he came. Well according to Warren, a tall, towering man, with blond hair. He was ripped, for a doctor, and had quite the chiseled jaw. He looked like the type of man carved from Ancient Greek marble and be the idealistic view of what masculinity would be for ages to come.
“Who was he?” Warren asked.
“The reason I am here,” he replied.
Warren smiles.
“That guy looks like a tool,” Warren said, “How are you feeling today?”
“Off and on,” he replies.
Warren nods.
“Like a light switch,” Warren laughs, but Arturo gives him a side glance.
“Your sense of humor surprises not to land with others?” Arturo asked. Warren just smiles.
“Probably not,” Warren tells him, “You’re the only person who has actually talked to me right afterward.”
“Why have you been talking to me?” Arturo ask him. A twinge of curiosity had been struck.
“I wanted to know if we were similar or not,” Warren told him.
Arturo just gave him a confused look, but Warren just smiled. Warren placed a hand on the nightstand next to his bed.
“Similar or not?” Arturo asked.
“You’ll just have this feeling,” Warren told him cryptically, “Anyway, that’s a story for another time. I’ll let you rest.”
Have a feeling? That was certainly an odd conversation, but then again everything seemed out of balance these days didn’t it? When he got out of here, what would he do? It wasn’t a question about what he could, everyone in his family had the ability to show drive. It was, what he would do.
She was wearing a purple dress, it complimented her well and at first he thought she were a dream. He hadn’t seen her in a while that her appearance almost felt like that of a coming mirage. He didn’t dream or believe he would physically see her.
“Hi,” she said softly, her lower lip quivered.
“Claudia,” he said dryly, trying not to sound desperate, but he needed her. Wanted her warmth. Her voice. Her touch. It had been something he had missed the most.
“Arturo,” she paused, “How are you?”
“They say it’s a miracle I made it to this stage,” he pauses, “Suppose they are right. I missed you.” A lot. Was it something he could confess to her so easily? She stares at him sadly.
“Me too,” she said.
There was something hollow about this interaction. Distant maybe. The distance had caused a riff, but she was struggling with a conflict he could see it. Perhaps sense it.
“You look lovely,” he said, though there was still a small hope as he saw she was still wearing the simple white gold engagement band he gave her.
She smiles and blushes a little, “Thank you. It’s the dress you liked.”
“I know,” he told her with a pause.
She nervously looks away and stares at the floor. He stares at the blankets. Things felt different, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. With him, with her, or with them. Or if this experience wasn’t even related to this one. He felt his heart racing with the same nervousness he must have felt before he’d ask her out on a date.
“Does it hurt?” she asked him.
“Sometimes, especially when they change the dressing or remove the dead skin,” Arturo pauses and smiles a little, “The number of times I have cried to nurses I barely know, in the same way I intimately know my family or you, is far too embarrassing to count or admit to.”
She sort of gives him a nervous laugh.
“You know I love you, right?” she ask him.
The question made his heart sink. He should have expected this. That there was no way to avoid it. That it would eventually come up.
“I know,” he told her.
“There wasn’t going to be a good time to do this,” she told him, “I didn’t want to stress you out too much. I want to marry you. But I am also going to take some time away from you. When they discharge you, I’ll be staying out our place. But I ask that you stay with your parents until I am ready.”
It was hard to swallow, but he nodded calmly without expressing a single emotion.
“Okay,” he said dryly, “Keep in touch. Please.”
“Of course,” she told him, “I just. I need time to process, this.”
She had months. She had time. Why did she need time to process it? She wasn’t the one living with it. She wasn’t the one experiencing it. He wanted to call her request selfish, but he tried to pass it off as if it were entirely reasonable. He watched her walk away and he wished it were a dream. He wished that vision of her was a dream.
When she was completely gone he broke down into hysterics. Why were the effects continual? Why couldn’t it just have been a singular event? Instead it moved liked dominoes. Was this the price he paid asking for the assistance of a higher being back then?
Like the movies, where a lover loses his love for an individual to keep them alive. He wasn’t sure. But he felt more alone at this current moment in time than he had in others. He was physically out of his prison, but he was still living in a cage.
**
“Who was the woman in the dress?” Victor asked him. He picked at the sheets, as Victor sat on a chair across from him.
“My fiancee,” Arturo paused, “Maybe. It’s complicated I suppose.”
Victor raises a blond brow.
“And that means?” Victor asked.
Who was Dr. Victor Warren? Why had he spent so much time speaking with him? Arturo looked at Victor. He tried to study the chiseled man for a second.
“She asked for me to live with my parents when I am discharged,” he told him, “She says she wants to marry me, but needs time.”
“Huh,” Victor says.
“Can I ask a question?”
“That is a question,” Victor tells him, and Arturo gives him a look, “Sure. But I was just making sure you knew that was a question.” Victor smiles. His type of humor wasn’t very charming or humorous to him.
“Do you believe in karma?” Arturo ask, “In Eastern Philosophy good and evil is in balance with each other. You cannot have one without the other. And there is a little good in someone evil, and there is a little evil in someone or something good. Everyone is connected to this cycle in some way or another. There is also this belief that if you do the world good, good things will happen to you. And if you do bad in the world, it will eventually catch back up to you and something bad will happen to you.”
Victor leans back for a second.
“The funny thing is I think that only works in Eastern worlds,” Victor tells him, “I think the Western world is a whole entire different beast. I seen more than enough scum in this world getting treatment they don’t deserve. While we sit here cutting education, or cutting that seems far more important than wasting our time on the scum of this earth. I seen people step on the little people, manipulating people get into the positions they are in today. Because they used people. And everyone is okay with that.”
Arturo looks at Victor his eyes widen.
“That’s exactly how I feel about the world,” Arturo pauses, “I mean I see rich people who haven’t worked a hard day's labor for their money get away with crimes because they have the money to pay. While people who may be entirely innocent persuaded by the police to confess to a crime they didn’t commit. And no one would believe them anyway, because why would you confess to something you didn’t do.”
“Exactly,” Victor said, “I think Good and Evil are arbitrary concepts, and if you want a Good world you have to make the world Good.”
“I never seen it that way,” Arturo told Victor, “I barely even know how you’d force the world to be good.”
“Well I mean, we can go with the whole Ying yang thing right,” Victor says taking out a pen and drawing on a pad he kept in his pocket, “Right this little white part has a little black dot. That little black dot is the darkness that resides in something good. And this little white dot in the big black dot is the good that resides in something dark. So, I mean its feasible for something to force Good, while still being good, but tapping into the dark part.”
“They are taiji,” Arturo corrected, “And that is an interesting concept. I never saw it that way, but you bring up an interesting point. May I ask how you came to this conclusion?”
Victor just smiled.
“If I gave you the answer it mean I’d have to trust you,” Victor told him, “I like our little talks, but can I trust you?”
“Trust is a concept that is as subjective as good and evil,” Arturo responded, and Victor just laughed.
“You see, I been through trauma, maybe, well clearly not locked in a hot box and left to melt like candle wax,” Victor replied, “But I been through a life changing experience. Key is, you have to know or feel like something is inside of you before I can tell you anything. Do you feel like something inside of you is different? Is there something you know or something you’ve gained the knowledge about after your event? You were on a lot of drugs, but think about it before I give the rest away.”
Arturo stared at Victor. There was that question again. It seemed though Victor was the only person he could really talk about the things burning away in his mind. Arturo looks away from Victor and looks at his bedsheets. Something different or felt like something was different. Problem is, that it’s hard to go that far back in his memory.
His siblings would recall memories of their childhood that he couldn’t quite recall and he certainly couldn’t remember how he felt after the fire. He barely remembers getting here in the hospital, but was told he had been in and out. He should have died from smoke inhalation, in all tense and purposes he was half dead at their gurney step.
“I don’t know,” Arturo told him, “That’s hard to remember what exactly happened afterwards. Victor. I’m going to say something and it’s going to sound a little crazy.”
“Go ahead, I have time and you’re still up,” Victor told him.
“Or egotistical however you want to put it,” Arturo paused, “When I was in the cabinet, I thought to myself a lot, of why this was happening to me. I ask about Karma, because I wonder what I did to deserve such punishment. Whether karma or divinity even exist. I didn’t do anyone wrong, I hope. I wanted a good place. For people. I wanted the world to be a good place.” He had to take a second because his eye caught something at the corner of it dust. Victor patiently waited for him to finish.
“And I thought….by actions alone, that if one person systematically models a behavior of good, that other people would see the good it does. And then one person does something, good, then another, and another. We could show the world wasn’t as cruel and callous as we thought it was.” he pauses just to clear his throat and continues, “That people, could be good to each other because it is the right thing to do. So, then why? Why did all of this happen? How do you make the world good, when every time you do something good, the world punishes you for it? Give a homeless man five dollars, loose five hundred dollars. Treat everyone with kindness and compassion because they deserve it, people deserve being treated like they matter. Get locked in a cabinet and be told through an action that you do not matter.”
Victor says nothing at first. He feels like he might have given away too much and just like everybody else, when he does open up, leaves.
“Arturo why do you make me like you,” Victor tells him, “I guess you earned enough to know a little.” Victor cracks his knuckles.
“When I was younger I was dumb and idiotic,” Victor tells him, “All the doctor shows tell you a doctor’s job is to save the lives of others. They don’t tell you the stories about doctors who want to chuck themselves out of windows because this job is both horrifying and amazing at the same time. You see the most amazing things and the most horrible things. And then they are just ordinary days that balance out the extreme days. I use to think being a doctor meant making the world a better place. And just between me and you there’s a lot of bullshit and politics. And people who are higher rank than me that didn’t deserve that job. Just they paid more into the hospital and kissed the right people’s rings.”
Victor pauses making sure he’s following along. He is, but he isn’t sure where this is going.
“Me? I am a hardworking man. I appreciate getting where I am getting to with hard work,” Victor tells him, “Something happened to me, a year ago. That changed the dynamic of my whole entire life. Why play into this game or this system, when I have the capability of something so outside of it.”
“What changed?” Arturo asked.
“A story, I’ll tell you a bit later,” Victor told him, “It’s better to show, than tell. You never know who’s listening in. That guy, Russell. He’s the one who locked you in a cabinet.”
“Yes, but I do not see how he fits into this conversation, nor do I want to interact with him,” Arturo responds.
“Well after this little demonstration you won’t have to,” Victor tells him, “He drinks, right?”
“Yes,” Arturo responds.
“Heavily?” Victor ask. Arturo shrugs.
“I suppose, I don’t know him very well,” Arturo responds, “But I do not want revenge on him. He has to live the rest of his life with the guilt. That’s condemning enough.”
Victor makes a face.
“You’re not thinking far enough yet Arturo,” Victor tells him, “Just call him over. It will change the course of your whole life Arturo. I know what I am talking about.”
“I do not have his number, we really weren’t that good in standing with each other,” he tells him.
“It’s all right then, I’ll find a way to bring him over,” Victor tells him. Arturo gives Victor a look.
“I rather not, he doesn’t deserve whatever you want to show me,” Arturo tells him, “I want his heart to die of guilt.”
Victor looks at him, “That’s dark. I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll tell you the story another time.”
He didn’t like Victor’s little teases about a story he was so eager to share. And yet just dangled it over him like a carrot. It was the first person that he felt in a long time he could connect to in some way and he had something he wanted. Perhaps a key to the question of what he would do after all this.
Fabian, “Do you want to use the Master Ball on Lugia?”
“A what?” Arturo asked.
“It’s the Master Ball it let’s you capture a Pokemon without fail,” Fabian tells him, “You were suppose to pay attention when I explained these things to you. Granted you were on drugs when we started this endeavor.”
“I guess,” he told Fabian, “What do you suggest?” Fabian’s the one holding the handhold, while he’s sitting watching the screen.
“Using the Master Ball,” Fabian told him, “Heard you been going for walks with a strapping blonde doctor Nurse’s words, not mine.”
“Victor Warren, yes,” Arturo responded, “Is mom going to let me stay with her when I am discharged?”
Fabian smiles, “Of course. You’re her baby after all.”
Fabian cheers as the sound of the captured Pokemon tune has played. He didn’t know why he was cheering when the Master Ball was a ball that allowed him to capture something without fail. It wasn’t like he had to struggle for the Pokemon.
“You sir now have a legendary pokemon,” Fabian tells him.
“Is that different from any other Pokemon?” Arturo asked.
“Yes, they are Legendary. Rare, often there is only one of them in existence,” Fabian pauses, “Fun fact though Lugia has been showing to have babies in the movie.”
“Then it isn’t really rare is it?” Arturo asked.
“Just enjoy it, you got a super powerful Pokemon now,” Fabian tells him.
Arturo nods.
“Do you think I am a good person Fabian?” Arturo ask him. Fabian lowers the handhold and looks at Arturo.
“The walk back is going to be littered with zubats,” Fabian told him, “But yeah Arturo. You were never really a disappointment. You’ve always done the right thing and that’s what has made me proud watching you grow. You’ve always taken the higher road. I don’t know anyone who would label you otherwise.”
Arturo nods.
“Thank you for your answer,” Arturo tells him.
“What’s going on?” Fabian asked, while focusing his eyes on walking back out of the cave. A hideous purple creature with wings, that Fabian kept mentioning was a zubat popped every few seconds here and there.
He wasn’t sure what was going on. He didn’t feel like him any more. The him everyone saw him as at least. His conversations with Victor were interesting bits of information. They were deep. And explore an ideal world that they might like to lead and live in.
He didn’t know if he could go back to the life before so easily.
“I was just gathering answers,” Arturo told him.
“Why?” Fabian pressed.
“Because I don’t want to disappoint any of you or worry any of you,” Arturo paused, “But I also have to change the course of who I am. And how I live. Not because of the burns, but because of what happened. It’s a bit different. I don’t like some of the course of direction I was going and I want a new change. I want something better.”
Fabian made a face at the screen.
“I am not going to lie and say we have had many brotherly sit downs,” Fabian replied, “But you are fine. The way you are. You don’t need to change anything. You just got caught up in something unfortunate.”
Easy for him to say. It was easier to rationalize it that way. Then to say perhaps something he had done was the reason that had happened to him. Fabian would probably rolls his eyes or scoff at the idea that he saw this as some kind of forewarning.
“I wonder if that was true,” Arturo told Fabian.
“Damn it!” Fabian just huffed with frustration, “Arturo, you are great. You have never broken a law. Never had a run in with the police. You help homeless. Donate clothes. And you do it because the world has to be a better place. You do it because you’re kind. What happened to you should have never happened. It’s suppose to happen to assholes who take advantage of young woman and sexually harass them because they are in positions of power. Not people like you. It’s nothing you did. Okay! It’s….because this world….has a bunch of dicks. And those dicks….those assholes...do things that hurt the lives of the not assholes because of their own negligent behavior.”
Arturo stares at his brother.
“That’s a very specific example,” Arturo told him.
“Yeah well,” Fabian shrugs, “The insurance firm I am working for is under some hot water because our manager allegedly had female workers have sex with him. Quid pro quo shit.”
“Oh,” Arturo replied, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, tell the asshole I work for not touch woman’s butts because he wants to,” Fabian tells him.
“I’ll pass it along,” Arturo responds.
“You ready to get out of here?” Fabian ask him changing the course of the conversation.
Arturo sort of gives a lazy shrug.
“It won’t change much,” Arturo tells him, “Changing the coat of paint in a prison doesn’t make it any less a prison.”
Fabian raises a brow. He doesn’t say anything. It’s probably the first time he let him in on a little insight of how he felt. Internally he was still screaming to be let out. That freedom Victor so teased about. The story he kept conjuring up.
But Arturo still wanted nothing to do with his old life. He didn’t want to just be Arturo any more. The one who was quiet and just sat, passively observing the lives of others. Putting the effort into making the world a better place like some martyr.
He wanted to have the confidence that Victor seemed to display, the confidence that said he could change fate. Live more boldly, be more bold, and he was starting to feel or think he might actually have the power to do so. It was like a calling or something of that sort.
Over the years Arturo felt imprisoned in his life. There were things that people could or should accomplish and doors were often closed in front of them. Perhaps he should have taken more cues from his sister Kaylyn who had never taken No to mean No. She forced doors open, she made opportunities happen for herself, she worked hard to get where she wanted to be, so much so that she may have been considered to have selfish desires from others.
His little he was proud of doing the things to better her life, then be stuck in a life that people would constantly reassure you is a good thing or they would tell you things would get better as a way to reassure that this is a milestone everyone has to pass. But there are plenty of people stuck at that milestone later in their lives.
His relationships with his co workers never really panned out. Something about people seeing someone behave in a genuine manner of compassion always sparked their insecurities of their own selves, which placed labels of a self righteous, uptight individual, who thinks he’s better than everyone else. When the truth was far from it.
Claudia and him spent time together, eventually they moved in together and eventually they were engaged and that felt like a good milestone to pass. It felt good. And he felt connected to an individual, something difficult for him when other people avoided him.
In April of 2003, Appliance Press burned down to an electrical fire. The building built in the 80s was not up to current code and lit fast before the fireteam could reach. Just like his metaphoric prison Arturo was locked in a physical prison, a true symbol of his imprisonment in this world. And the struggle of being able to get out of the prison created for him by societal expectations.
In all tense and purposes Arturo was near dead on arrival to the hospital. A lung full of smoke inhalation and secondary drowning nearly killed him before the flames reached him. Though 80% of his body was also burned during the process as well. He was in and out of conscious and struggled to live for a while, until he miraculously returned.
People will always paint those circumstance and that event like a miracle because there is no other way for them to explain it. No other science, no other medicine could tell you why he survived when he shouldn’t have.
He spent months recovering in the hospital. His family trying to keep his hopes up with hopeful conversations. Hopeful to them perhaps, about getting discharged, going back to a world that he didn’t know if he could touch. He didn’t care so much about the burns, but going back to a life that did not make him happy.
Further he was isolated from the only woman in his life that he had truly loved. She had rejected him for some underlying reasons. And he as forced to move back in with his parents with no other options. But the hospital did bring something. A connection with another individual, one Victor Warren. Who would become a door to a whole another world, one that could be a new future for him and others.
But before that door could open, Arturo would fall helplessly and deeply into depression. His family trying to force every option they could down his throat as “support”. Telling him about jobs hiring. Telling him about looking towards his recovering and re-entering the world. The medical professionals would tell him depression about his burns was common. But that what the fire symbolize to Arturo.
It was the symbol that his old life was going to kill him. It was a symbol that meant something more. And there was an instinct that bothered him. Sometimes after his therapy he would visit Victor and they would discuss lengthy conversations.
But no conversation would ever be more freeing than the one they would have about Parahumans. As Arturo’s frustrations with Victor’s leading never went anywhere because he kept teasing the answer. Finally Victor decided to reveal the story. It was the most liberating conversation he had and sparked a new life focus in him than before.
“My insurance doesn’t want to cover more,” he says nonchalantly in passing, “They said I missed the employment renewal date and only covered me due to the nature of the tragedy and that it happened at the building.” Victor is sitting next to him. This has been a new development, he use to sit across from him and now he was sitting next to him on a bench outside of the hospital. Arturo didn’t really care so much about the mundane topic. He was certain Victor didn’t care much about that either.
“The clinic is going to be busy tonight,” Victor told him, “Once costume freaks come out, we’ll see some wild stuff. Guess you don’t need a costume any more. Shame, insurance companies are always too greedy to cut off payment for those that need it.”
Arturo smiles, “I’m sure I can pass out candy today.”
Victor laughs, but gives him a genuine look of concern.
“Are you doing well?” Victor asked him.
Arturo just stares at the hospital parking lot. He was just here to visit Victor.
“I’m fine,” Arturo says after a long pause. Victor leans back and stretches. Arturo stares at a bush now, “When you nearly die life looks different. It doesn’t feel the same any more. I feel just as isolated as I did before the incident, now, but even more. I feel disconnected and distanced from everything. I do not want my old life back. I do not want to live in hell.”
Victor nods thoughtfully.
“I didn’t just call you here today to visit,” Victor said, “I love a good thematic conversation and I feel like I can trust you. And we can help each other in some way. I don’t like watching people fall into depression and I can tell how cut off you are. So I think now is a good time than any.” Victor looks around, and gets up. He ushers Arturo to follow him and so he does. To a black 2002 Cadillac Eldorado. He gets into the passenger side and Victor gets into the driver side.
Arturo stares at Victor, Victor just smiles.
“I can’t leave, but it’s safer in here than out there,” Victor tells him, “I much rather demonstrate, so it makes it more believable. But I suppose I just have to say, huh.”
Arturo wasn’t following.
“I suppose,” Arturo told him.
“I told in the beginning that I been through something harrowing myself,” Victor says cracking his knuckles and undoing the buttons of his wrist cuffs. Rolling them down, he shows him a raised scar on his arm. It goes down from the wrist to halfway on the forearm, “Last year.” he says, “We get a call this convict, Jack Smiles is suppose to come in. He needs medical treatment for some condition. He gets there and they have shackled to the bed, and I am thinking this guy is the Smiley Killer.” He pauses, “Use to draw smiling faces on his victims after mortem. Kind of a dumb theme now that you reflect on it.”
Victor pauses to make sure he’s following. He is.
“The treatment goes well,” Victor said, “I am in the room checking on his vitals. And I guess me and him were thinking the same thing. I am just thinking to myself how in the hell does this guy get to live and be in prison. Should have just left him to die in the cell.” Victor pauses, “One of the nurses had gotten careless and left a pen on the nightstand, she also didn’t lock the handcuffs as well as she could have. Jack grabs the knife and tries to stab me with it, funny thought I know.” Victor raises his hand, “I raise my hand up. Hopes it will stop it. Asshole manages to break skin with a pen, a pen. He’s dragging down and we’re wrestling. And all I am thinking to myself is I don’t want to lose this fight with this guy, I don’t want to die. Why am I being the one attacked, when I am the not shit head. I manage to wrestle him off of me, he comes in again, trying to stab me with the needle I had in my hand that fell out. We’re scraping on the floor, till security comes in and some other doctors. They help wrestle him off of me. And I am just like, holy shit that happened. I wanted in some way to kill him. I wanted a way for that to never happen.”
Victor pauses hoping he’s still following. Arturo nods for him to continue on. Interested in what he has to say.
“I just get this feeling a few days later that maybe I can get rid of guys like that,” Victor says, “It’s just a passing thought. Day in and day out you see the worse of the worse, best of the best, then it just dies down. So one day, this guy, real fat cat, paid big bills to the hospital, he’s harassing a woman, she’s a nice lady, with three kids about her kids. He needs open heart surgery, she too needs open heart surgery. Her kids are playing loud and he’s just barking, I have to sleep, get those kids to shut up.”
Victor cracks his knuckles again.
“He thinks he has some right because he pays this hospital and knows the board of directors, and I think to myself that’s not right,” Victor pauses, “So I am thinking to myself about people, the way blood flows, and I don’t know something in me told me he could die. So I touch him, tell that everything is okay. But in my mind I am thinking no one would care if he dies of a heart attack. I am imagining what that looks like from the videos we use to watch in med school. Not even minutes later he is dead from a fatal heart attack.”
Arturo looks at him a string of coincidences. Victor laughs.
“You’re thinking it’s just a coincidence,” Victor pauses, “What if I told you that it happened again to me. Several times. It's an instinct. And instinct I been trying to get you to see if you too felt. And if you don’t, well than this conversation is over and I am going to have to kill you too.”
An instinct? What was he suppose to feel? Like he had some power that could be an opportunity? Like a new door opening. Maybe. Sometimes. But it was so drowned out in his own fatigue and the growing rift inside of him. But he also believed Victor because he had the confidence, and sharpness in his eyes that told him he would kill him.
“I don’t know how that’s supposed to feel,” Arturo told him.
Victor just hits the steering wheel for a second and gives him a sharp look. Arturo leans away.
“Damn it, why did I waste all my time,” Victor says to himself, “Surely you have had had to have something. Why else did you live? You shouldn’t have never lived in the state you were. You were half dead. Barely breathing. But you lived. And I thought that meant something.”
Arturo wasn’t sure what his instinct should be in this circumstance, but he did believe Victor about dying with a touch. Victor had always been vague, but always straightly honest. It occurred to him that this was just another place he was locked into staring death in the face. Bits of the night in the cabinet came back to him. Flashes. How hot his hands were on the cabinet doors. He knew he shouldn't’ have been touching them. But he also knew he no longer wanted to be trapped by another individual again. Placing his hand on the car door as Victor reached for him, he meant to open the door. But Victor paused. Arturo kept his hand on the door. Victor was looking at his hand though.
Arturo continued to stare at Victor who just laughed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Victor asked, “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Tell you what,” Arturo asked.
Victor only eyed his hand. Arturo looked only to see what looked like muscular tissue, pink, healthy, it was warm to the touch on the handle of the car door. He was either losing his mind or this was that instinct Victor was talking about.
“I didn’t know,” Arturo told him, “I did this though. I know that.”
“It’s a little different,” Victor teased, “But it’s cute, whatever it is.”
48 Hours Later
Sitting at home he was thinking about what happened the other day with the growth of flesh. From his touch? He prefered the isolation, and to be left alone. His parents grew concerned about this behavior and threw every number of every therapist there was at him.
They begged him to get help, seek help, and told him he was only going to make himself worse with his actions. Except he had no real motivation to do any of that. Be a part of a community that ostracized him and shamed him for what he was.
His phone began to rang, he wondered who that could have been. Sometimes Claudia called, and those conversations were strained. Victor rarely called him, too busy working and yet his number was showing up. There it was 6 in the morning and he hadn’t slept much last night anyway. He answered the call groggily.
“Hello,” Arturo replied.
“It’s not cute any more,” Victor told him, “It took over my car.”
“What took over your car?” Arturo asked.
“The stuff from the other day,” Victor replied.
The muscle growth?
“What do you want me to do about it?” Arturo asked.
“Get over here and help me fix this before I have to explain why there is a meat car in the hospital parking garage,” Victor replied.
“You didn’t drive it?” Arturo asked.
“No!” Victor shouted, “Are you fucking crazy? When I got out of the clinic the other day one of the walls was entirely flesh. I am staring directly at a meat car. It’s got windows and everything, but it's covered entirely in flesh.”
Arturo sighed.
“I’ll see if I can somehow get there,” Arturo said.
He somehow convinced his mother he forgot his wallet at the hospital and needed his keys to drive. They had been so worried that he was out to kill himself they put it upon themselves to keep his keys from him. Getting to the hospital parking garage, Victor had been lucky that where his car was parked was not filled up. The bottom row was already piling up with cars, and the parking lot itself was filling up.
And indeed there it was a meat car. It had retained the physical shape of a car, it had the wheels, but those were now fleshy tumors, it had window frames, but those were veins. The seats were fleshed, sinewy bits of muscle, pink, red, and thick veins all surrounded what was once a 2002 Eldorado.
“Ah, it is indeed a meat car,” Arturo replied.
“Ah, is not the word I would choose for this circumstance,” Victor told him, “It’s not something cute to admire. It’s a meat car in public and people are coming to work. We need it out of here before they do.”
“I wonder if it's even driveable, the wheels are,” Arturo frowns at them, “Tumor sacks.”
“Yeah I got that when I stared at it this morning,” Victor told him, “You could have chosen to be more discrete.”
“I had no idea that this would happen,” Arturo makes a noise of discovery, “Look it’s attaching itself to the tarmac of the parking lot.”
Arturo smiles and Victor frowns.
“This is not a misbehaved child, stop taking it in with such delight,” Victor told him.
Arturo looks at Victor.
“Oh I don’t know someone called it cute yesterday,” Arturo says placing his hand on the meat car. There was a familiarity with it. Like it calling to him. Was this the calling he experienced when he was in the hospital before?
“The other day, but that’s beside the point,” Victor told him, “Don’t pet it! Why are you petting it?”
“It’s a curious texture,” Arturo told him, “Besides I am getting you back for the other day.” Arturo stared at the car. He felt connected to it somehow. Like they were linked in some way, he wanted to try something. Leaning in close he decided to try and talk to it, “This is not the place for you. If they find you, you will put a lot of people, including myself and Victor in trouble. Do you understand?” He felt like he was scolding an inanimate object, but it felt alive.
“Great you’re lecturing the meat car now,” Victor said raising his hands in defeat, “We’re going to get the PMR on our asses. Because-”
Before he could finish his sentence, the sound of smacking gum could be heard as the headlights of the meatcar opened a thin layer of meat. Light poured out of translucent skin. He watched the tumor sack wheels begin to spin.
Both of them sat in silence as the car drove off by itself. Victor just stares at him and Arturo stares at Victor.
“The…..fuck….was that?” Victor asked.
“I do not know,” Arturo told him, “Whatever happened, it’s out of the parking garage now.” he smiles.
“You know I liked you better when you didn’t know about your powers,” Victor told him, “Be careful what you wish for I guess. Guess it’s that Karma thing you’ve talked about. Talking about Karma, you owe me a new car now.”
“I guess talking to it like a parent works,” Arturo said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
This was that door. That opportunity he was waiting to see. This changed everything. He stared at Victor with revelation in his expression. Victor stares at him.
“What?” Victor asked.
“This changes everything,” Arturo tells him.
“Vague and I am not really in the mood to care, my car became a meat car, then drove off on its own when you scolded it like a parent. I am still processing that,” Victor told him, “And I definitely do not want to see a world of flesh. Changes things for the ugly.”
Arturo rest his hand on his chin in thought.
“Isn’t it, what do you call it Victor? Instinct,” Arturo replied, he stared at the leftover particles of meat in the parking lot.
“What do we do about the part that doesn’t drive on its own?” Victor asked, “Burn it?” Arturo looks at Victor with a stern look.
“Not near me,” Arturo tells him.
Taking out a lighter he heard Victor’s zippo, he didn’t smoke, he said he liked to collect them. Arturo looked away from the flickering of the flames. He had never seen the flames that nearly took him afterward. But he could feel them. When the flames touched the meat, he felt it in him. The burning sensation. Arturo could feel the heat and his own body prickling with pain. Victor looked up at him. “You okay?” Victor asked.
“I feel its pain, I suppose too,” Arturo told.
“Oh,” Victor told him, “Sorry.”
“I can handle it,”
Rediscovering his instinct and the awakening of his powers was a liberation for Arturo. He saw a door, an opportunity before him and he decided to follow in the footsteps of his sister this time and open that door. He no longer wanted to be trapped in a surreal cage. Instead he would make a new reality.
He began to grow even more distant from his family when they felt that he was becoming unstable, is how they worded it. They begged him to see therapist. His mother desperately wanting the Arturo before the fire, even set him up a few appointments. He was not inclined to listen because they did not understand or know what he was now capable of.
His powers would take practice and even today, he barely has a handle of what he can and cannot do. Still discovering new additions to his capabilities. The theory Victor came up with, which sounds the most plausible is that his instinct never kicked in because the first time it did he was already half dead. The second time it did, he was on so many drugs and in and out of conscious he might have forgotten.
Still Arturo was set on changing the world. With Victor at his helm. Thus created Reflections. His parents frustration with his lack of concern for his mental health eventually had given him an ultimatum. He either gets the help he needs or find someone who else would take him in. Believing that he had no one else in his life.
Using his lack of social contact with others beside Claudia, who grew more distant from him. Something unattainable to him, despite loving her so much, as a weapon to get him to be the way they wanted him to be. Back to normal. Back to the person he was. But the person he was had no voice. Had no presence. Had no one in his life. The person he was arguably naive. Maybe that’s what they liked about him, his innocent naivety. The one that kept him docile and tame.
But like Kaylyn he supposed when you saw a truth and wanted something else you grabbed at it. Instead of grasping at straws because life was quoted to be unfair. Life didn’t have to be fair. It just had to be unfair to the people who truly deserved it, not the people who did not. Life is unfair was is a model for the weak who thought they deserved punishment for their hard work.
Not to Arturo. No hard work would truly be praiseworthy. Instead of begging to Claudia to come home, he called Victor about his dilemma. Asked him if he could set him up somewhere. Victor being Victor told him, why don’t you just live with me.
“You don’t find this odd?” Arturo asked, boxes were scattered all over Victor’s living room. Victor just smiles at him.
“Not in the least bit,” Victor told him, “We have to look out for each other.”
“Well I have a plan,” Arturo told him, “This makes planning easier at least.”
“For?” Victor asked.
“Reflections,” Arturo told him.
Victor raised a brow.
“Reflections, is that the name we’re going with?” Victor asked.
“You have a problem with it?” Arturo asked scrunching up his face a little in frustration. He had spent a week working on this.
“No it’s good, but I get to name your ability then,” Victor told him.
Arturo gave him a side eye, he knew better than to let Victor do that. He sighed, he did let him live with him.
“Very well,” Arturo told him.
“Meat Space,” Victor wore a proud smile, he had been thinking about this for a while. Hadn’t he? Arturo sighed. He had a distaste for the name.
“No,” Arturo told him.
“Well Zombie Rot was going to be the second choice,” Victor told him. Arturo pressed the bridge of his nose.
“We’ll go with Meat Space,”
Victor did a victory cheering in silence and Arturo just stared at all his boxes in his living room. He frowned at them. He knew their contents. Albums. Pictures of his family. He also had his clothes and necessities. But he had a distaste of the sentimental stuff. He didn’t like his old life any more, he didn’t want to be reminded of it either. Victor watched him closely. Waiting for him to speak.
“Let’s burn my stuff,” Arturo told him, “Beside the needs.”
“Really, coming from you?” Victor asked.
Arturo gave him a glance, “I am not that person any more evidently.”
“Yeah you lost Life Cherry last year,” Victor told him with a laugh, “So, what are we burning exactly?”
“Family photos, pictures of myself, sentimental value,” Arturo told him, “I’ll keep my clothes, but I don’t want to look at it any more. Less be reminded of it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Victor said with a shrug, “Need a change. I get that.”
“Thank you Victor for everything, now let’s change the world for the better,” Arturo told him.
Victor just smiles.
“Well it’s because I like you Arturo, like another brother,” Victor pauses, “About brothers. There is one thing you need to know. I have a brother. You know me, I don’t talk about what’s personal to me unless I trust someone. Jamie means a lot to me. So treat him well.”
Arturo gives him another side eye.
“You just invite me to stay over at your place, and don’t tell me you live with your brother until I am at your doorstep,” Arturo sighs, “It sounds just like you.”
Victor smiles.
“Now you’re catching on,”
Later that Evening
Glittering orange halos were the last things he was reminded of. Like those beautiful cosmic bands he saw a long time ago. There was something peaceful about watching the rest of his old life burn. The only thing he held onto was a photo of Claudia. He couldn’t let it go. It was the one thing that chained him to his old life. Staring at the phone, Victor had wandered off to work. The door to the apartment opened, but he knew it was not Victor.
Instead he saw a kid, tall, and willowy. Young, twenty, twenty-one. With shaggy blonde hair that needed a cut, his pants had holes in them, and the canvas shoes he wore looked rather worn. His shirt fit loose on him and the kid’s eyes did a wide eyed surprise to see him. He did a 180 turn towards the door, but then turned back to “look at him” honestly his gaze was focused on the arm of the couch he was leaning on.
“Your brother told you about me I hope,” Arturo told him sitting on the couch, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Don’t worry your brother didn’t tell me anything about you.”
There was a silent smile on his face and he just nodded. He immediately dashed off to the bedroom he presumed was his. What an odd conversation. Or lack thereof. But it didn’t bother him. He supposed he should get things in order than shouldn’t he?
Talking about what they were going to do and actually doing something was entirely different. Still there was a pain in his heart. Picking up the phone he called her number. It rang. Rang. She wasn’t going to answer. She didn’t know this number. He was about to give up, but then there was a, “Hello” on the other line.
“Hello, who is this?” she asked.
“It’s me,” Arturo told her.
“Arturo,” she says in surprise, “This isn’t your number. Where are you calling from?”
“A friends,” Arturo told her, “I just got unpacking.”
“That’s good,” she says.
“How are you?” they ask at the same time. And it hurts to do so. She clears her throat, tries to laugh, but it comes off nervous.
“You answer first,” he tells her.
Claudia does this thing where she breaths in and then exhales, he can hear a slight smile on her end, but it’s conflicted from the amount of distance forming.
“I got a new job, nothing glamorous,” she told him, “But it works for me. I mean as much as working for an appliance company that still sells appliance from a magazine ever could work for me. What about you? Have you found work?”
He missed her voice. Just to hear talk. Hear each word the way she laid it out. He missed her. He wanted her. Did she still love him he wondered?
“That’s good,” he said, “I am currently not working. I am fine. Claudia, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Will you ever be ready?” he asked her. There’s silence on the receiver. It’s like a cold breeze passes through and kills the conversation.They sit in a phantom conversation for a while. No one starting. No one stopping.
“Maybe,” she said, “Arturo I have to go. You caught me in the middle of something. I’ll call you later. I have your number.”
She hangs up. And he’s left to sit with heartbreak. Cracks beginning to form on the beauty that he once loved. Melting away like hot metal in a flame. What was he missing to have her come back? Had she stopped loving him? Then why did she entertain the idea that someday they would get married? Why did she mention it and then keep holding it in the distance like some future goal? She was just like the rest of them. That saw a part of his naivety die and gave up on him because he wanted to change.
Reflections
Reflections started on the age of the internet. It was an easier and cautious way to start a movement, than something loud and boisterous that could get them caught. Videos did no one harm, especially when they only questioned viewpoints. They didn’t influence or tell someone to do something.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman,” Affliction said sitting at a desk in a blanketed room, besides the meat walls covering it, “And what an evening it is. When the dead rise to walk among the living. A fitting theme for this video then.”
The video flickers.
“Do you feel like the dead walking around the living?” Affliction ask, “Does your job make you feel like you could have accomplished a number of goals that will not be? Does your life make you feel trapped in a cage? Do you feel hollow with your life?”
The video flickers again. The cracked, ivory mask stares directly into the camera. It’s hollow and empty. With a blank expression.
“You know what tonight is? It’s not only the night of treats, it can be a night of tricks,” Affliction said, “You could be more than the sum of your parts. We are Reflection. We reflect the opposite of the mirror this society paints. I am this societies Affliction. A disease created by a society that finds you.”
Worthless.
Flashes on the screen.
Weak.
Flashes on the screen.
Pathetic.
Flashes on the screen.
“You can continue to be all of those things they say you are, think you are,” Affliction pauses, “Or you can take matters into your hands. To take back the power they robbed from you. To have a voice. Tonight is not only a night of treats. It can be one of tricks as well.”
The video flickers again. The last words to linger on the screen; Think for Yourselves. And Rise.
The videos have been widely successful, though some criticize that it sounds like a bunch of crazy conspiracy nuts. Though it has lead to some people claiming they have felt strength from the videos and have committed a series of pranks based on the videos. Since the users do not really suggest actions the videos have been kept up and gain daily traction.
The trio has recently moved to Denver in the last few months. They are looking to gain more traction now that the videos have seemed to gain wild success.
Arturo has also recently landed a job in a Middle School as an art teacher.
Alias: HemoGoblin “Don’t give me that look. Can I not have fun with it?”
Alignment: Villain
Loyalty: Reflections
“Look this world needs change whether or not we agree on how to do that, it’s obvious to me that this world is run by the heartless. And somehow they have influenced the ones with heart and soul to believe that they have a heart. How did we get to that point? That we think what is happening to our politics and government is okay. How did we get to that point where we sit back and take the shit we are given to us without a single protest? Is it because we were promised great rewards after? Bullshit I say. When will you see that great reward they promised you. Never. Not even on your deathbed. That’s when the regret will finally kick in.”
Appearance:
The man looks like he was chiseled straight out of stone. If there was ever a man who you’d associate with your ideal it would be Victor. At thirty-two he seems well taken care of for someone his age, near in peak condition. Ripped with muscles and standing at an impressive height he gives the impression of an indomitable force.
Handsome, with a square jawline with blond hair slicked back. He gives the impression of a lady killer, especially in his rather expensive looking suits and ties he likes to adorn from time to time. He’s either seen in a trench coat or seen in his lab coat when he is working. With polished black shoes.
At 6’4”, 193 cms, and 200 pounds at 90 kgs, it’s clear he might on average be the tallest man in the room. And he commands the rooms attention on himself just by his presence and charm alone. He gives a smile and a dark witted remark, and many are enamored by this caucasian American male.
His voice is rich and smooth, with a deep bass to it, that he tends to lighten up playfully when he is cracking a joke or making some sort of witty commentary about something. He also tends to have a playfully camp voice as well, the one he uses when he’s being a complete and total tool about something. Often reserved for people he likes to tease.
HemoGoblin
“A fun nickname I hope everyone starts calling me by.” -winks-
A towering figure stood in front of you blocking your path. He seemed confident in the way he stood and the stance he took. You could almost imagine whomever was behind the mask smirking, no it was too close to embodiment the mask was smirking at you. This man before you in an elegant garb for a costume somehow believed or came to the conclusion that he would win this battle no matter what you did.
How could someone stand so stoic, move like a gargoyle, and be that impressively tall at the same time was beyond you. He cracks his knuckles, which are covered by black leather gloves and rolls his shoulders back.
A man in that suit, with those pants and that coat thought he could take you on. Take on anyone was an impressive thought to humor.
“Do you want it quick or slow? Your death that is,” the man asked with such brazen confidence, that it nerved you. He shook you with a booming voice that was self confident, bold, and deep.
You could not stop staring at the mask, a disfigure squash looking face, was that his representation of a goblin in silver? The one thing you could admire in this moment was the attention of detail of at least having the costume match his mask.
You gesture for him to bring it on and he just gives a tough, hmmm before coming in to commence the showdown.
Personality
Motivations: He would like to find a world worth looking at, when people come into his place of work looking for drugs he doesn’t see drug addicts. He sees people who were failed by a broken system. He sees people with lives so empty they have to fill the void with something. The people aren’t sick the society is.
And he much rather watch this current empire burn, so a new one could take its place, one where people who cared about people ruled and people who didn’t care burned. He’d like a world easier for Jamie to navigate, a world that was open and honest with its problems and dug out the infections where it lie.
Sexuality: Bisexual
Marital Status: Single
Likes:
Tennis - There’s nothing like a good sport that requires short shorts, tight tank tops, and a good swinging arm. Of course he doesn’t just do it for that factor, but it’s a nice addition. Honestly it invigorating as an exercise and easy to pick up because most parks have a tennis court. Side Note; Arturo will not play tennis with Victor unless he is allowed a long sleeve shirt and pants. Also extra side note before fangirls ship them together, Victor has no romantic attraction to Arturo and sees him like an extra little brother to tease.
Dessert - It’s the best part of the meal and it’s what people chose to make themselves feel better about their lives. Cannot eat too much of it though because I am trying to keep a figure here and I don’t think I’d look very beautiful fat.
Medical Journals - I know what you’re about to say, most people think medical journals are boring. They are trust me. But they give you a good idea of where medicine is advancing and I am not all cupcakes, witty jokes, bad puns, and pick up lines. I can have a serious moment too.
Puns - Talking about puns. Victor likes a good pun or two or three. He’s the one who came up with Meat Space, Veinacles, and HemoGoblin after all. He’s also come up with other play on words that haven’t always landed right and he’s certainly sure either Arturo or his younger brother have absolutely about died with embarrassment for how many bad jokes he has made.
Dislikes:
Shitbags - What’s a shitbag? What else, shit in a bag. A shitbag is someone who doesn’t realize they are shitbag and cannot even smell their own shit because they are so far up their own ass it’s reversed and turned into a little bag called them. What makes someone a shitbag? Doing shitbag things. Lying to doctors for more drugs. Kicking a wounded puppy when its down. Torturing people for no other reason. Petty revenge or petty crimes.
Heartbreak - What’s worse than physical injury? Literally unraveling at the seams. Falling out of love is such a horrible experience. He wish he could just gift wrap love into a small box and comfort someone with love who needed it the most.
Family Time - Exception J-bean [Jamie]. Family is another way of spelling Fuck You. They are the first things you have in your life. And while you’re developing who you are they do everything around you to fuck that up. Your little baby wires disconnect because your family spells love with trauma and bad parenting. But you’re still obligated to love them. And I do love them. I just dislike spending time with them.
Crosswords - Whomever designed these things should be burned at the stakes for witch craft. I have big handwriting, I cannot fit little letters in the little boxes.
Derangement:
Cruelty, Victor never been any kind of the saint. Though it seems the more he uses his ability the more Victor becomes cold to the idea of death. You won’t see him grieving over the death of other people, even his own family members. He really has become stone cold to the idea of death. Beyond that Victor has a bit of a mean streak as of late, being more comfortable with the idea of threats, intimidation tactics, and cruel methods to get what he wants.
Victor’s life wasn’t something really special to celebrate or really something for him resent either. It was just a life. Especially during his early years. There was nothing he’d admire or say was noteworthy in his early years.
Beside perhaps the birth of his brother Jamie when he was ten. Mainly because it gave him a sense of purpose his life otherwise seemed to lack at ten years old. It was nothing really special, he just felt aimless. At ten he made a lot of friends, but most of them were shallow. He could recognize that at that age.
His father wasn’t any way or another, just a man seeking manly fulfillment through his son. Forcing him into sports. Forcing him “manly” roles to fill in the time in hopes Victor would follow suit. Know what being a man was all about. Brawls and getting away with crude language.
His mother would always be, boys will be boys and girls like different things. She didn’t really care if Victor didn’t enjoy it or not. Part of growing up she would say is doing things you didn’t like. His eyes really opened up when he explored the Denver Museum of Science and Nature. That’s what he wanted to do.
He was curious and yearned for learning. But Victor was never really intelligent, he was just average and his family let him know it. It’s best you do something with your life. Like sports, his father would say. While his grandfather would bark and say, military where the boy should go. Military. When Jamie was born that didn’t change of that, but it did change his outlook on things.
His mother really wanted a girl and they ended having a boy with Problems. That’s how the family always put it. Jamie didn’t start talking until he was five and he was really forced into it by their parents. When their parents weren’t around they use to play Doctor. Victory always liked those Doctor shows, Medical Emergency, Emergency ER, Untold Stories of the Emergency.
He would pretend to diagnose Jamie and Jamie didn’t mind, usually he didn’t really engage with the game, he’d just color, but Victor didn’t mind. Jamie always had problems with his speech growing up and he had a habit of mutism from time to time that his parents abhorred. And Victor “encouraged” they would say.
Victor let Jamie point to things he wanted. Or let Jamie cower behind him in crowds. Victor would baby Jamie is what they said when his brother would have a meltdown in a store. They didn’t care to know what was wrong with Jamie. All they wanted was him to be fixed.
It’s a great shame he had to leave Jamie when he was so young alone in that household. At eighteen he went off to college for a medical license. Something his parents didn’t support, nor did they condone it either. It was just left with a passive shrug and he was left to fend for the wolves.
Victor worked hard in college. He put in the time, the effort, he put the thought into. He was never bright, but he was never stupid either. Everyone just thought the muscular, charming, good looking young man would never be a good doctor because they assumed he lacked caring, compassion, and nurturing like all the good doctors hard. But that was their perception of him.
Watching Jamie for the first few years of their lives, he knew he wanted a job that he could find a problem and figure out the perfect solution. Damn it Victor was going to do this and prove his parents wrong and everybody that they were wrong about him. He might be charming, popular, and had a lot of friends. But by god damn it. He was also a caring, honest, individual. So he carried on, until he graduated at 22, then moved unto medical school until he was 26, and then he continued on till now.
Because he was going to make the world better with medicine. When he was twenty-eight he received a harrowing calling about his brother, his mother poorly prefaced it. Something is wrong with Jamie. They always thought something was wrong with Jamie, ever since he was born. But she made it sound more dangerous than that. Turns out while he’s completing his medical services, Jamie at eighteen was diagnosed with Autism.
Again another proof that medicine could help people. Oh, but he was wrong about the medical industry. The hospital took money from wealth investors who got better treatment then people with regular insurance.
Patients who badly needed services were thrown to the wayside like they were trash because they didn’t have money. Families that could warm your heart. People who made you feel deep animosity towards them. It was all there. That fresh eyed, innocent view about how the world work, began to slowly fade as reality settled in.
It was also at twenty-eight he would learn of a new word and the event known as Trigger. It seemed like a routine day, until the hospital in his hometown Littleton, Colorado got a call about a criminal who needed heart surgery. Something about that made Victor sick, but he didn’t feel like it would concern him. Until he was told he was going to be the primary physician. It had to be a sick joke. Right? Him? Saving scum on earth.
It wasn’t. The surgery was a success and Victor was expected to take blood pressure and all the other vital stuff the surgeon doesn’t take care of. When the criminal awoke, the nurses forgot to lock the handcuffs up properly or something and Joe Nash began to thrash about. He figured that he’d try to escape.
Well Victor thanked his father in this case for teach him self defense as Joe Nash tried to stab him with the needle he was using to take Nash’s blood. Victor struggled to fight a man he shouldn’t be struggling to fight, he just had heart surgery how strong was this man. The needle cut through Victors arm and Nash tried to use the needle as a knife, but ended up breaking the tip.
Nash was looking for another weapon, but Victor wasn’t going to die here. No. Not to this fucker. Fuck that guy. Fuck that guy. He’d never let someone like him take him down. So Victor charged to subdue Nash. One of the nurses had already witnessed the struggle and called for the security. It didn’t matter Victor wasn’t going to let a guy like this be a threat to anyone ever again. He was going to take people like him out. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t going to lose to this asshole.
Soon afterward Victor would discover his powers when he killed a patient for being rude to a nice woman with a very nice family. It was then he discovered he could do some real good. Fuck the ramifications. Fuck the whole damn fucking infrastructure if they thought scum should live because killing was bad.
Victor might not be an idiot, but he was no dummy either. He made sure the patients he practiced his abilities on weren’t his patients. Always under doctors names. He made sure he didn’t kill too many patients in a month. Keeping it to one or two really fucked up people he fucking hated. And he tried to keep out of the spotlight as much as he could on those cases. He wasn’t going to go down and he wasn’t going to get arrested for people who deserved it.
It been when he was thirty his life would change entirely. Littleton Hospital got itself a little interesting case as a man came into their emergency clinic, nearly drowned on second hand drowning after taking in smoke inhalation and had burns all over his body. From what he heard of the case was that it was extremely touch and go. The man had constantly been drifting in and out. And nearly crashed on them.
Curious, all though not the main physician, he decided to visit this patient when he had heard the man was more stable. Something about him the moment Victor saw him felt like fate or destiny. He had never believed in those things until he saw that man.
Outside of the hospital his home life was changing as Jamie struggled to find work. He was in and out of jobs and Victor finally told him to stay at his house for as long as he wanted. He wouldn’t be like his parents who threw out Jamie when it got too hard.
His visitations with Arturo would become more frequent as the man spent several months in the hospital. Victor knew he liked him for some reason. He wasn’t very charismatic, he wasn’t very confident either. But he had a draw an appeal Victor liked. Maybe he was like him. That’s what he figured. Maybe he and him were, Parahuman.
Still Victor played coy. He didn’t want to delve into, I have killed at least a few people with powers and then get thrown to the PMR by someone who he thought he could trust. Arturo was clearly frustrated with it as his depression began to take shape.. It was a hard thing to be so self assured and have it taken all away from you. Victor knew that.
He eventually gave in., Told Arturo the story and they discovered that Arturo had gifts. It was glorius. Just like Jamie’s birth gave him a sense of purpose, the discovery of Arturo and someone who he could agree with on some aspects of life gave him a sense of power he didn’t he’d ever feel. The things they could accomplish and do.
So after Arturo confided in him about his home life and his parents frustration with him Victor offered his door because now they really could accomplish anything. Anything they set their mind to. And the rest is really history. He was transferred to a good hospital in Denver and it really feels like they are moving up in the world. Soon Victor will have the ideal world where this current regime will fall.
Equipment:
Two-Way Radio - It was the only thing they could afford and he rather keep in communication with Arturo as much as he can. If there’s anything he couldn’t forgive himself it would be Arturo not having back up support when he needs it.
Brass Knuckles - You cannot really hit people with your bare knuckles. He tends to carry himself a pair of brass knuckles.
9mm Luger - Easy to conceal under his coat and sometimes people aren’t going to come in closer for a fist fight.
Parahumanism
“Heart got your Ventricle”
“And then I said to him as he’s dying of serious chest pain, what your heart got your ventricle. Hahaah. I slay me sometimes,”
Major Skills:
Doctor of Medicine - Clinical Medicine
Nine years in education, and four years as a doctor. Victor knows what he is talking about when it comes down to it in the medical world. He’s been described by many as a brilliant doctor or at least an excellent charismatic doctor who cares about his patients. He knows emergency medicine, he knows how to diagnosis a disorder and knows most disorders. The only thing Victor really cannot do is perform surgery. But basic and advance medicine he can apply if need be. He basically has the knowledge of what has been taught and what he has experienced in clinical work.
Boxing -
Something his father use to make him do when he was a kid. Built confidence, toughen a kid up, the whole shebang. Victor spent most of his preteen and half his adolescent years trying to live up to the image his father had for him. Especially since one of their sons turned out “wrong” in the head. Victor still practices from time to time, trying to avoid any of his father’s old stomping grounds though.
Baking -
Look he is no master baker, but when you want a dessert the way you like it. You have to start learning how to bake. Well and cook and he can cook. But he really likes to perfect his baking skills more than his own cooking ones. As long as he’s not burning soup he is happy.
Minor Skills:
Cooking -
If there was one thing Victor was going to learn while in med school and out of it was to cook. There was no way he was going to devote his time to fast food. Instead he would dedicate himself to making lunches and making breakfast ahead of time. Nothing fancy, but something to avoid fast food hell. It also probably better for Jamie too anyway. He’s just happy to be able to make a basic assortment of food without burning anything.
Research -
More specifically Victor calls it his research, but Victor is very interested in learning about other Parahumans. And what drives their powers. And how these powers work. Victor would like more time to study these phenomena.
Gun License -
Victor did a basic gun safety course at some point and got a gun license, but this is way in the past currently. But it has been useful for their newer endeavors. At least he’ll get to make that 80 dollar purchase something worthwhile now.
Classification: Striker
Overview:
“It’s nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.”
Everything about Victor has always been straightforward and it seems it isn’t much different in the range of powers he was given. Victor has the ability to touch and individual, and induce heart attacks or complete organ failure.
Victor can “sense” the blood pressure of others and with that he is able to direct that pressure however he may please. Either by stopping the flow and causing a heart attack or by increasing the flood inducing renal failure. Often in one deadly blow.
Victor does not need a great grip on someone to control their blood pressure or feel connected to their blood pressure. He can easily control their blood pressure through a light touch, disguised like a friendly pat on the back or in some cases disguising his powers through his fist.
Limitations:
Range is Victor’s big issue. If he cannot get up close to a man to touch him Victor has no way of inducing anything. That’s where the gun comes into play.
Beyond the fact that Victor’s ability causes people to die, he tries to limit in the settings that he uses in it. He still has his little brother’s future to think about and getting caught is not one of them.
Unfortunately his condition causes instant death, which is something people really really dislike. So he tries to keep that a secret as best as possible and not attach himself with any of the string of deaths that occur.
People also assume because he use his fist often that he actually has super strength and not blood pressure touch powers. Which is good for him. Bad for him because super strength is near the same range of limitations than his touch abilities, that people will try to exploit his weakness at a range.
Name: Grigori Apollonovich Myasoedov Alias: Prilipala, also known as Gory Grigori Age: 32 Alignment: Rogue Loyalty: Independent Appearance: Grigori is a large man, solidly built and intimidating in stature, if somewhat disproportionate in shape, with long arms that almost reach to his knees and an exceptionally wide and powerful neck. This menacing frame is carrying a formidable bulk of well-developed if ill-defined muscles like crags clinging to the face of a mighty mountain, capable of exerting impressive force and lugging his considerable weight around with surprising ease and swiftness. In facial appearance, Grigori is dour, stoic and stern-looking, his droopy-eyed, frowning expression mostly only changing in any notable fashion when his massive, bushy eyebrows raise in order to regard an interlocutor with a look of incredulous scepticism compounded by the accusatory pointing of his large and impressive. Verily, an spitting image of a russian Bogatyr of olden legends. His hair used to be jet black, but began to grey prematurely in ugly patches and streaks.
History: Born in Kemerovo to a seamstress and a coal miner. Grew up as a delinquent with no aptitude for intellectual pursuits. Despite violent tendencies and ugly temper, possessed a particularly dog-like dedication to his family whilst experiencing absolutely zero empathy towards everyone else. The fact that his family did not approve of such an attitude puzzled him immensely. Town mostly obliterated in a low-scale parahuman conflict. Grigori was sixteen at the time. The events did not particularly scar or trouble him. Majority of extended family quickly relocated into various better places. Survivors relocated to Novosibirsk. To better sustain the family, Grigori eventually took up criminal activities and made quite a name for himself in the Russian criminal circles. At the age of twenty eight, convicted for murder unrelated to aforementioned activities - Grigori got violently drunk on one weekend in Warsaw and participated in a brawl, in course of which he killed one man and maimed and injured several others. Due to internal psychological issues and the absolute lack of contact with the family that purposefully shunned him - his only tether to proper social life - Grigori found life in prison to be incredibly stressful. Violent episodes and desperate and futile attempts to escape were impossible to curb by any disciplinary measures and escalated in frequency and severity before eventually resulting in his shard triggering during a particuarily vicious assault on a fellow inmate - at the age of thirty one. Adjusting to the sudden development remarkably well, Grigori facilitated his escape without any fatalities or violence. Newfound powers and old connections were used to rapidly (within roughly half a year) facilitate a mysterious death of his mother's distant relative, something of a hermit and a recluse (so reclusive in fact, that nobody had noticed that he had never existed in the first place), leaving his family a massive and completely legal inheritance. Having secured a safe future for his relatives and knowing full well that they are much happier never seeing him again, Grigori was deprived of his life's greatest motivation and fell into the clutches of a severe existential crisis. Currently, he is chasing away all unwelcome thoughts through fulfillment of various vices fuelled by mercenary work.
Personality
Motivations: To find a new cause truly worth killing for, dying for, dedicating one's entire life to, out of his own free will. To, perhaps, find a hobby that does not make his brain sizzle with frustration and make him want to inflict violence upon the world. To have fun, unrepentant and fulfilling. Sexuality: Heterosexual, principally. Mostly. Likes:
To masticate and gnaw something.
To think things through.
To feel like he matters.
To see things break under pressure.
Dislikes:
To suffer through someone else's self-aggrandizement.
To be deprived of personal freedom, even in potentia.
Apples, cherries, walnuts - these make his gums itch.
To see crying women.
Derangement: Grigori has a strong subconscious compulsion to be close to someone else. He does not empathize with the object of closeness very much, nor does he feel any specific attachment to it, but there is still a strange, warm and pleasant feeling that he cannot describe whenever he is "jacked in" and lives through the life of another person whilst seeing it through their own eyes. It is intimacy without friendship or sympathy, but it's... something. When not busy, he, at times, spends days and weeks following lives of different people.
Parahumanism
Skills: Grigori is strong and quite quick for his size. His strength is stable, reliable - he can bench press three hundred and a little more two or three times. He can also press two hundred for as many times as it is required from him. Grigori fears little. Grigori cares very little for pain. Grigori knows how to handle himself in a fight, and does quite well in melee as well as at range, with fists or with knives or anything else that he can lay a hand on. Grigori has more than a fair chance in a direct confrontation with a professional brawler or a practicing adept of martial arts. Of course, he will never stand up to a Brute, but he is reasonable enough not to try taking one on. Grigori speaks English as well as Russian very well, and speaks German and Polish just enough to express coherent thought. He is not a very articulate fellow - at times, he has to rehearse the more complex sentences he wants to say beforehand. Grigori knows how organised crime works all around the world, he knows that very well. Grigori knows many people related to organised crime across the world, too. Among other things Grigori knows are basics and some details of PRT Stranger-related SOP's. Overall, Grigori posesses a fairly typical, if quite well-developed set of skills characteristic for a successful career criminal turner black operative. Grigori handles himself badly in sophisticated surroundings and can't really keep up with even a slighlty complex conversation in four cases out of five, but he knows himself quite well around alcohol. Very importantly, not many people at all know just what exactly Grigori can do.
Classification: Thinker 2 Mover 6 Stranger 6 Details&Limitations: Thinker 2: -Incredibly advanced proprioception and kinesthetic sense - is perfectly aware of his bodyparts' movement and relative positions at all times. -Incredibly advanced spatial perception capabilities - can perfectly measure distance and judge size and volume of sighted objects as well as their speed and trajectory.
Mover 6/Stranger 6: -Can instantly, instinctually translocate through/into any protein-based matter within sight, for as long as it is not completely decomposed. Does not require direct line of sight to the organic matter, but must have a general idea and understanding of it's location - can't colocate with a man that he *thinks* might be lurking behind the corner, but can co-locate with a human in full, obscuring body armour or with a driver of a car with tinted windows, if he can approximate the location of the center of mass of the host. The power fails to activate if his perceptions are incorrect.
-Is contained within nondescript, unknown extradimensional space while "inside" the organic matter - does not add to the weight or volume of the host, can selectively perceive through the host's senses, somewhat like a passenger in host's body. Host is not aware of the co-location taking place. Can't perceive through a host that lacks senses. Is not *forced* to perceive through the host's senses.
-Can manifest himself through any outer surface of the host - through the layer of the host closest to the "outside". Can manifest through skin, but not inside one's mouth or intestines. If, for example, the skin is flayed, can manifest through the subcutaneous tissue, but still not inside one's mouth. Can manifest only parts of his body if he so wills - eyes, mouth, hands, arms, etc, - however far the physical space outside of the person's body allows it. Can fully exit the host as long as every part of him can fit through the surface of the host, but is not required to do so. The host does not perceive his emergence taking place through tactile sensations, unless he actively touches the host whilst emerging.
-May treat any part of his extradimensional space as a solid surface for purposes of bracing against or standing on, or as a "window" through which to emerge. Whilst within a host, he may reach out for, and bring inside the extradimensional space, any items which do not surpass the surface through which they are dragged. The extradimensional space is always the same no matter what host is posessed, and it retains items brought into it.
-Can speak, move his limbs, acess the space in his cavities when they are partially manifested through the surface of the host despite his apparati and systems not being technically manifested in the "realspace" - limbs not being tethered, the mouth not having the actual vocal cords, etc.
-Is not affected by hosts's own movements and inertia when partially emerging through him.
-Does not require to fully exit one host in order to teleport into another host.
-Can remain within a host indefinitely. Does not require conscious effort to remain within a host.
-Can only translocate non-organic matter in immediate contact with his skin.
Equipment: Grigori posesses a lot of money on a lot of different accounts. He is not a millionaire, not by a long shot, but if needed and unhindered he can provide himself with comfortable living conditions for a fairly long while. Grigori posesses many differently coloured business suits, many pairs of expensive soft leather shoes and a relatively humble amount of jewelry. Grigori owns a lot of form-fitting bodygloves. Grigori owns many thin and extremely sharp knives that he often carries strapped to his person as well as a respectable number of firearms and ammunition. Several of aforementioned firearms are suppressed. Grigori also owns a cow. Do not ask.
Alignment: Anti-hero - “If...there’s anything you need, feel free to ask for my help,” pauses, “oh but...maybe not moving a body to a different location.” takes another pause “and….torture isn’t really good. How about this, nothing gross.”
Loyalty: Independent
Appearance:
Tall runs in the Warren genes and yet you somehow missed the tall, lengthy and willowy build of a young man with shaggy blonde hair that honestly looked like it needed some attention. He was trying to make himself as small as possible, which was concerning because it was working and he seemed agitated with you looking at him. Finding ways to distract himself, that ended bringing more attention on him.
The young man had a softer jaw than the one Victor possessed, but it was easily related with the other because of it’s shape. He too had broad shoulders which only made it more interesting to see how much he could squeeze himself into a tight space or use Victor as a tower shield.
Unlike his brother, he wore loose fitting shirts that billowed over his willowy, lanky frame, with loose fitting jeans with tears and rips, which gave the impression of either someone with no money or someone with no care for fashion. His canvas shoes were worn down, teared at the edges, the soles were falling apart and had been placed together with tape.
At 5’10”, 177cms, and 130 pounds, 58kgs, he was a lanky slim jim compared to the imposing tower his brother embodies. While Victor tries to bring the rooms attention, Jamie is trying to avoid any attention, finding ways to ghost into a corner or find a place that he can squeeze or simply make himself scarce.
At twenty-two he has a tendency, especially on the phone, to give someone the impression of a nineteen year old. His tone of voice is much lighter than his brothers, though it carries some of the same husky qualities, though quite more hoarse than Victor’s voice. He often gives the vibe of someone not use to speaking due to slight stuttering in new situations.
Sketch
Is trying to do the best he can. He doesn’t always believe he has great ideas, and doesn’t always believe he can save the world. But Sketch just has to believe in himself more. Sketch can show people that you don’t always have to do succeed to be successful. Sometimes failure is learning and succeeding next time. Humility and modesty is the key to any heroes success.
Sketch doesn’t wear anything elaborate, because he doesn’t have the time or any money, but a hero shouldn’t be defined by the amount of gadgets he has. Something about his costume should mean something more than fancy new gear.
Sketch cloak is meant to conceal his identity, but the red lining of the cloak is to help cars see him at night. Remember safety first. His coat has pockets on the outside, not depicted in actual drawing. The pockets carry his equipment.
He wears a simple long sleeve t-shirt under his cloak and a pair of gray khakis, that he wears in the pair of boots someone important gave him and he refused to wear them till this current occasion. The person special to him has probably most likely forgot they argued about the boots or even bought them for them, but this is the way Sketch has made up to them.
He wears black fingerless gloves, just in case it gets cold, but needs to grip onto something.
Sketch mask went through many additions because it had to represent who he was. He took the time with many different materials till he finally came up with a design of his own. Really a modify hockey mask, that he tried to make look like it had painting marks on it.
The hollow of his eyes have night vision goggles that he rigged into the wiring of the mask, but honestly sometimes it doesn’t work so well because it was one of those cheap night vision goggles you get from toys kids use to be spies. The red of his cheeks are reflective to be able to be seen by car headlights at night.
He makes do with what he has though. And that’s all you can really ask for a hero. Because a hero shouldn’t be expected to do things outside of their means and people shouldn’t placed such high expectations on them. That puts the weight of the world on their shoulders alone and sometimes that can make Sketch feel very lonely.
Personality
Motivations: Honestly, am I selfish person to say that I am doing it because I want to meet people and hopefully find someone like me? Does that make me a terrible person? I just want to feel like I belong and am providing something to the world. I can’t connect to people as is, they don’t always make much sense to me. They hard to read. No means yes and yes means no. But if I do something like, help, or somehow make their lives better in some way. Maybe they’ll just remember that deed and that’s how I can understand them.
Sexuality: Maybe I am a child, Woman are pretty to look at, but I don’t know about having sex with anyone. The concept is sort of gross, isn’t it? It’s all….uncomfortable looking. Everyone is sweating and it seems really unhygienic.
Marital Status: Single
Likes:
Animals - What you see is what you get. They are honest about the way they feel instead of using coded language. They don’t lie and try to cover it up by saying they were sparing your feelings. Doesn’t it hurt either way when you find out it was a lie and be lied to? But I also admit I am not good at taking care of them. I don’t always remember when to do a certain thing.
Comics - I guess what appeals to most people about comic books is that it takes them away to another world where superheroes really exist. And I guess for me it’s just a teaching moment of how to deal with problems in life. Inside my mind to get through the day I am a hero, but when I really am a Hero then I guess all these comic books seem really silly and extremely fantasized about the reality of what that responsibility means.
Drawing - It’s always been a way where I can discern the most. When you draw you can make comparisons in your daily life. What I like about drawing is that things can be as exaggerated as you want them. I guess it’s also why I like video games and comic books, because the emotions are clear. Exaggerated, but clear. It’s how I learn to understand people.
Video Games - About really the same thoughts about comics. It’s just a form of escapism that allows you to change your reality. Or feel like you’re in a different reality.
Dislikes:
Loud Noises - Especially when they come out of nowhere, and make a noise you weren’t at all expecting. It can be quite disorientating wherever you are.
Crowds - They are loud, they are always in your way and you can never find the person you were with once you get caught up in a crowd.,
Aggressive Yelling - Hostile yelling is really disconcerting. It makes you feel trapped in a situation because you’re not so sure what to do. Your brain freezes up and it’s like your fight or flight is so overwhelmed that you just feel paralyzed in that situation.
Lying - All lying is bad lying. Whether you were doing it to spare someone’s feelings or you were doing it out of the intention to get away with the lie. Lying is a bad thing. Only problems is I don’t really know how to spot a lie, so I guess I can still be lied to and not know. But you should feel ashamed.
Weird Textures - Weird textures are just weird. Especially when you brush across them and have instant regret that you ever did.
Shoe and Clothing Shopping - It’s not just all of the things above that’s bothersome about clothes and shoe shopping. Its loud and crowded and very bright. But then they never sell what you’re already wearing. If I could be like a cartoon character and owe the same pair of clothes for the rest of my life I would be set. But instead they have to change design, you cannot find the right shoes that look exactly like the ones you have, and so and so forth.
Jamie is and always will be Victor's younger brother. With ten years apart in the difference of their age sometimes it feels like he’s been chasing Victor for ages. Mainly because his parents considered his behavior “Problems”. Is what they were called on a regular basis. Jamie didn’t start speaking until he was five and his parents were concerned about this behavior because they were worried about performance in kindergarten.
So they did what every good hearted parent would do, force their child into behaving in a satisfactory manner for them. Instead of finding solutions and reasons behind his behavior. That would have been rational. Nothing they ever did was rational when it came to him.
He remembers school being unbearable to handle. It was too loud. It was crowded and he never really understood what the kids meant. Which meant on a daily basis he was tricked into a number of scams he never learned from. And who was to be blamed? Why of course him? Because he would have screaming fits and meltdowns.
There clearly was no logical reason for it. He was just a poorly behaved kid throwing tantrums when he didn’t get his way. Though he always tried to explain it, that his brain was like a soda can. It’s calm, but when people shake it and he feels overwhelmed it explodes outward.
After a while when his meltdowns were what were getting him in trouble he began to internalize his problems by shutting down. Guess what that got him in trouble too. Apparently being silent and not saying a word was as offensive as screaming out because you were overwhelmed.
Nothing Jamie ever did was win win for everyone it was win for everyone else and a lost for himself. Victor use to pay attention to him. Use to do things with him. But then the family had a big falling out when Victor enacted his own plan. He left for med school at eighteen leaving Jamie ten more years until he was “adult” enough to have his own sense of freedom.
It was from there the only good thing his parents ever did for him, speech therapy. Otherwise it was Jamie use your words. You know the silent treatment doesn’t work on us. Quit being quiet. Why are you so quiet. Jamie use your words with what you want. Can’t you behave like a normal child.
He wouldn’t say his parents were abusive, but his mother did get frustrated with him at times. When the grocery shopping trip became too much for him and he started crying, she’d tell him he was too old for this behavior. When he wouldn’t stop crying she’d drag him out of the store and sit him in the car with the window rolled down and left him there while she continued her shopping.
When he would point instead of ask to pass the butter, he was hit across the cheek. Told use your words. He didn’t want to use his words. Why did you have to use your words for butter. They were all at the same table and pointing was much easier.
Kids at school thought he was gullible and easily manipulated, he was. So he followed along with them and got in a lot of trouble because they managed to get him to do things he shouldn’t have done. Of course when the authority figures came into the picture, it was of course always Jamie's fault.
So his favorite places to go where the places he drew, and video games. He remembers at early age thinking to himself much he wish these places were real. He wished he could live in these worlds. Then perhaps he’d be considered normal. Maybe they would accept who he was or better yet maybe he could be a hero in that world. In those worlds everyone would like him and accept him no matter who he was.
It seemed childish and naive to think even those worlds would accept him. But he liked it better than he liked his own life. Honestly there were times when he would lie in his bedroom when his TV time was taken away because he was went quiet after his father yelled at him, that he contemplated suicide.
It sounds ridiculous. Like some spoiled kid who got everything he wanted, but when his Tv was taken away he wanted to kill himself. But it was nothing like that for him. In this world he would never be the image or the person people wanted him to be.
He tried and tried and tired and tried. It was exhaust. Tiring. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He was only doing what felt natural. Crowds were busy. Lights buzzed. The world was so loud and he couldn’t filter or turn it off. Is mind was a wild traffic jam of noise ideas and thoughts. He got overwhelmed with it all and he was punished because he couldn’t tune it out.
Only in those worlds the ones in the books or in his drawings or in the video games manage to allow him to zone out and go somewhere else. It allowed him to turn off a world that otherwise rejected him unless he was what they wanted him to be. The argument he always gets when he tries to explain this to people is, well you were a teenager, all teenagers go through rebellious phases.
No. No. No. No. The world made him anxious. The world was crowded and loud. His mind busy. Unable to filter things around him. And unable to read people around him. He never understood what they meant by the things they said and he was supposed. When you go somewhere you shouldn’t feel so exhausted, shouldn’t feel so trapped, shouldn’t feel so bottled up he wanted to scream. He shouldn’t feel like he should be punished for being what felt natural to him.
He just wanted a sanctuary a place that made him feel safe when the world felt unsafe. He was eighteen when he received his diagnosis of Autism with co morbid depression. His parents were worried because he wanted to kill himself and that was the only time they were ever concerned. He felt a bit of resentment that day. Towards them. A little bit of animosity and a little bit of betrayal.
If only they had taken him sooner. He wouldn’t have felt so disconnected to everyone. If only they had considered his feelings back then. Then maybe he would have had a better chance. They never cared. They had always tried to make him into their version of what a normal person was and even after he was diagnosed they didn’t care. They forced him to be normal. Or what they wanted him to be normal.
His father got him his first job at a McDonalds because he was good friends with the manager, while he was forced to go to college. Something he struggled with. Crowded. Loud. He experienced vertigo in these situations, but it was now son you have to start to think about being independent.
He wouldn’t say he ever had a specific dramatic trigger event, or not one so easily defined. It was a culmination of events he thinks that finally drove a feeling at twenty that he could perhaps bring the things he drew to life.
He lost that McDonalds job in three months. He got in trouble with that. Then his mother got him a job at the very library she worked at. He didn’t mind it, it was just mind numbing and boring. And so he lost that job too.
Then he moved on to moving and packing, lost the job when they found he hadn’t learned to drive. Then he went to work a post office and he lost that job because it was mind numbing and boring. He felt like a servant. The working world was just servitude. Tied down to something you don’t want to do, but have to survive.
It continue liked that till he was twenty-one and thrown out of the house because again his parents chased a dream of an independent child. He went from Carl’s Jr, to a grocery store as a stocker, he went from that to a gas station. Until he ended up with nowhere to go and not a lot of money.
He ended up tracking down Victor. Who let him into his house no questions asked. Didn’t even reprimand him. Victor is the one who came up with the idea, why don’t you just sell your art. Commission work. So that’s what he has been doing for a while now. Honestly it feels a lot more like security than before.
Parahumanism
“Scribbling Reality”
Major Skills:
Drawing - That one was an obvious one, but I never went to college or anything for it. I just draw. And I practice and get better doing so.
Boxing -
They don’t think I was watching when they use to go on father son days to box at the gym my father liked to go at. I am not good as Victor, but I remember the lessons. They just forgot that I would sit and draw on my sketchbook rather than actually participate. Or well I am certain our father did.
My favorite part was I use to always get candy from the receptionist lady who thought I was well behaved. I just didn’t really know how to say I wanted to learn. But I have the pictures back then of all the drawings of the fighters I use to. It’s like a flip book and that was my manual. That and Victor and I use to play fight. It wasn’t as much teaching, but it taught enough.
Internet Usage -
Sounds lame, but when Victor and Arturo don’t know anything about the internet it makes me look like the expert. I know how to surf the web, mask purchases, use proxy servers, I even know how to use the Dark Web safely. But I don’t really have a credit card and hmmm….I wonder if I could...no nevermind. Still anything those two know of the internet is probably because I had to show them how to use it. It was really weird to be the one with the knowledge someone else doesn’t have.
Minor Skills:
Timing -
I have uh exceptional timing in circumstances. I don’t remember to do things like take a pot off the stove, or that I should eat. But when it comes to gaming at least I have exceptional timing. And if you give me a good song that helps a good bunch too.
Basic DIY -
I am limited to stuff you can do at home, I had to look up some manuals for Sketch’s mask. I mean he had to look up some manuals for his mask. But I managed, it’s not very good sometimes the goggles don’t even work, but that’s because they were cheap toys meant for kids.
Competitive Gaming - I think it counts. When you play games competitive you have to think of a strategy and how to win the game. I can think of a strategy and at least try to stay ahead of everybody else. If I win then that’s great. If I lose well then I need a better strategy.
Classification: Master/Stranger
Overview:
“If I told Victor I wonder what he say. I already know he worries about me more than he should. It’s because sometimes I am a complete and total waste of space. But I wonder if my secrets would make him worry more. Or cling more tightly on protecting me. It’s what I love about him. It’s what I worry the most is how he would react and what he would say.”
Scribbling reality has three main functions. Jamie can bring anything he draws into reality, or he can bring anything that exist predrawn into reality. Think bringing Lugia into reality and than blasting people with a Psybeam. Or a really fast car from a magazine, no theft involved in that.
Jamie can also manifest his feelings into drawings as well. Anyone who stares at a picture injected with a dose whatever feeling he has poured into it begins to experience hallucinations. These hallucinations can either drive someone to be angry, because Jamie poured angry emotions into the hallucinations. Or sad because Jamired poured sad emotions into the hallucinations.
Often combined with his ability to bring drawings to reality it begins to blur the line of what is real and what is Jamie’s hallucinations. Jamie’s Hallucinations are semi permanent, someone with a strong willpower could easily break Jamie’s hallucinations, but someone with a weaker mind may not be able to release themselves from the hold.
Even when these hallucinations fade and take their grip, individuals with weaker minds may be permanently affected by the damage done even with the hallucinations only lasting no more than 10 minutes.
As well these images have semi permanency. As in they are permanent until they are destroyed, but even if they aren't destroyed the image can last up to 30 minutes because their capabilities are not always combative. And the time of their permanent state is limited by how many images he has going at a time, if there's 2 it significantly drops to a permanent state of 15. And 3 is about his limit and they only last 10 minutes.
He communicates to them by giving them orders, he isn't quite connected to other people's drawings as much as he is connected to his own drawings. But their designs are often designed with a given task in mind, so its rare for him to give them much order. It's more like he draws it, designing a task in mind and it innately translates this message when it comes to reality. While a drawing he may have pulled from someone else he may need to directly give a few orders before it understands it directive.
Limitations:
Well Jamie requires pictures or drawings in order to actually bring a character to reality. There are other issues as well. Such as the time it takes him to draw, he’s no speed painter and a drawing does take time to draw, so he either needs to predraw beforehand, though that limits the strength of his hallucinations. Or needs someone to distract while he takes the time during that distraction to draw a powerful painting.
It also seems that his own drawings created from himself are more powerful than the actual creations of someone else. True a Lugia psybeam could still devastate a block, but it still won’t be as powerful because he wasn’t the original creator of that design.
His hallucinations don’t last forever either, some individuals they last up to five minutes, other people ten minutes, always depends on their mental state. Some people aren’t tricked at all and it doesn’t work on them. But it also can mess someone up as well, lasting five minutes under strong emotions have left some people’s minds to be completely broken. So he tries not to get carried away with what is driven in his pictures.
His hallucinations are also sight based, so no one who looks at it, or is sight based would not be affected. Also any image that was a drawing and not a physical being only has the strength of a peak to supernatural being, but none of the physical defensive measures and be easily cut down like paper. Because that’s what they are.
And right now Jamie is in an experimental phase. He doesn't quite know what he can and is capable of. So certain things are slight possibilities, like being able to erase his images before their permanency is up, but that's something that hasn't been discovered yet.
His facial appearance.
His uniform and some gear.
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