Miry glanced to Nenra quickly, and the older bride boosted her up a little bit more roughly than was strictly necessary. As before, Nenra awkwardly situated herself in the saddle behind Zakroti. Poor creature, carrying three – well, two and a half, she thought, glancing to Miry – people up and down these mountains.
She apologized to the beast, or at least thought she did. She placed a hand on its flank and sent it a mental image of flowers and a sunny riverbank with a thought of the future. Talking to animals was always a tricky business, and though she managed it well enough with her family’s horses, she had no idea about this sort of creature.
Miry closed her eyes, swaying lightly in the saddle. She always got roadsick on horseback, and she’d been able to stave it off well enough on the first leg of the journey, but now with food in her stomach… this was going to be interesting. To occupy her mind she listened to the banter of the men-at-arms, when she could understand them, at least – they switched back and forth between a variety of languages, or that was what it seemed to her ear. At some point in time she called a few drops of water from a nearby trickle, swirling it on the pressure points behind her ears to stave off the dizziness.
Nenra was mildly ecstatic to be in a foreign land, without needing to guide her mount. Settling into the saddle and closing her eyes, trusting her own sense of balance, she extended her arms slightly, trailing her power down from her fingertips into the ground beside the road and examining the kinds of flora (and fauna, in the case of a very startled pika-like thing) that edged the path they traveled. She could lose hours doing this.
At a length of time, as the sun was drawing low in the sky, the terrain began to flatten and become grassier. As the sky darkened, a glow of lights became visible. Over the next gentle rise in the land, the party descended upon the Drakken city of Kazark. Middling in population and importance, it guarded the steppes of the Drakkan midlands. It was regarded by many as the last Drakken city of any import before the Spine; similarly, it was rather the end of the line for trading convoys that operated within the kingdom, as few went over the Spine except around the reaping time. The city reflected this “last stop from nowhere” mood, its walls and buildings humbly shaped and standing fairly low to the ground against the wind. Most of the structures were hewn from a rather odd mix of clay and sandstone, befitting the transitional environment it was situated within.
Miry was incredibly grateful as the city gates swam into view. It was considerably more spread out than most Gem cities, if less populated - though she supposed it made sense. They did have a luxury of space here, after all. She tried not to wrinkle her nose at the rather square and blocky architecture; she fiercely missed the refined arches and delicate spires of home, was all, and there was nothing wrong with this… rather underdeveloped, to a first glance, style of building. She craned her head back to look at Zak, trying to determine what the plan was now, and realizing as she did so how sore her back, hips, and shoulders were. She had never really cared for riding at home and, while she vaguely knew how to configure her limbs to sit appropriately ladylike in a saddle, it was certainly never comfortable for her, and she’d never ridden for more than a span or two at the most.
And she had several more days of this to endure, more than likely. Brilliant.
Miry blinked at Zak’s joke about blessings and generals. That’s not the Gemmenite way, and it never has been. Her signs were sharp and precise, her stare fixated at his chin. And it was true, at least in the way these foolish Westerners thought to fight their wars; for their conflicts, resolved in cruel affairs of blade and blood, some sort of cruel marshal prowess might have been necessary, but it was simply not a factor in Gemmenian conflicts.
Nenra shot a glare at Miry, which was swiftly ignored. The older bride internally groaned. Engaging in even more political drivel was just going to make them unable to get back on the road in a timely manner, and the lord had said they’d end up sleeping on the road, which she was decidedly not looking forward to… she rose from her seat, placing the empty stew bowl and water glass on the rock beside the lord’s. With an alarming series of popping noises, she stretched her arms and shoulders and neck, her muscles and joints tense from having been seated for so long. Notably, she was very flexible in her shoulders especially, her linen shirt sleeves falling away and emphasizing the defined muscles of her arms and ribs as she stretched.
As she did, Zakroti mused about the logistics of importing the plants, apparently oblivious to (or else just a very good actor) the linen-wrapped balls of earth that weighed down Nenra’s bags. She hesitated visibly, chewing on a thumbnail as she considered her options. She felt she was betraying her family and her pride to say what she was about to, but it might earn her favor in the lord’s household… Favor. Her lips curled and she lightly shook her head, disgusted with herself. It wasn’t about favor. Like she was some kind of frilly noble, trying to further herself and selling out everything she and her family stood for.
But her fingers itched to be buried in fertile earth again, ached for the peace and authenticity of a garden she’d grown herself. “I have seeds,” she blurted, finally. She glanced up to Zakroti, her eyes wide and expressionless, trying to determine his reaction. She swiftly ignored the bait to the discussion of symbology, and she glared at Miry – who thankfully, or perhaps not thankfully at all, seemed to still be stuck on the implication of insult to the entire Gemmenite mythos. We lost, Miry. Our people lost to the gods and then to the Drakken. Let it go.
She refocused her attention on the seated lord.
“Seedlings for the roses, a few of our local fruits, and handfuls of wildflowers.” Beyond the flowers, which had been a whole assortment of seeds gathered from the meadow on the upriver side of the farm, the fruits she brought were the kinds of plants that took months to even sprout, and years to properly fruit; the delicate mountain plums and pygmy chestnuts were certainly the most notable. She was not about to elaborate that one bundle of the herbs she carried were those of women’s medicine, grown together and made into a tea that was found to prevent unwanted pregnancies and the like, as well as helping with pains and sicknesses related to such functions of the body. That seed ball was sure to be a death sentence if it was found; they’d all heard horror stories of women who were unable to bear a child in a timely enough manner for their lords.
But such was a problem for another time.
Nenra stretched her arms up over her head again, glancing to the sun’s progress across the sky. She very much was eager to get on the road again; she glanced around to their retinue and found that, thankfully, everyone else was done or nearly done eating. Bar any further political or cultural distractions in the next few minutes, such other academic fluff could be discussed on the road again.
It was a few minutes past four in the evening, and Eliza had just arrived at HQ for the evening. Her dad was going to be here late anyway, so she certainly had enough time for violin practice – thankfully, because solo and ensemble was coming up and she was woefully unprepared. She’d spent most of the last few weeks working on material for her Red Instead fundraiser stream, which was supposed to be this weekend… a jar of Manic Panic dye remover and a jar of Rock’n’Roll Red clinked around in her backpack.
Last year she’d had a grand total of 200 dollars in donations for the event, and this year she was hoping for twice that, even though her subscriber count hadn’t really changed… She had half a mind to get Patricia to show up for part of it, though she was sure the other girl had other obligations. Starbright would be sure to bring in the donation money, but he certainly had some sort of gig to go to, or a photoshoot, or something.
Eliza tried not to be too bitter about Starbright’s fame – he just liked to rub it in, you know? Still, it was unbecoming to have that mindset about another performer. She forced positive thoughts into her brain as she greeted her father at the door (He was on front desk duty, again, as he always was.) “Hi dad! I’ll be in the usual spot,” she said, before swiping her ID and hopping in an elevator.
Her “usual spot” was a semi-soundproofed room in the corner of the fifth floor, bare except for two chairs, a table, and now a portable music stand. Along the back wall was a full-length mirror, with a darkroom behind it that could fit two-dozen people in lecture-hall style seating, complete with tiny desks for ease of note taking.
“All the practice facilities that a hero could need” included a practice police interrogation room, it seemed, though it was almost never used. It was a critical skill for new heroes, though, both learning how to get information from uncooperative hostages and how not to surrender sensitive information in a situation where they were hostage. It was also mirrored and semi-soundproofed, as previously mentioned, so it was an ideal practice space for a shy violinist.
She tossed her backpack on the folding table, rummaging for her music folder and producing a binder of her personal work, in addition to the folder with her school solo, orchestra, and quartet music. She was only playing second violin in quartet this year, which she was very upset about, but she was also only an 11th grader and was in the senior quartet, so – she had that going for her, right?
She set up her laptop with her looping pedals, which had been crammed in the outside pocket of her violin case, and grabbed her binder, which at the moment was full of catchy pop and rock tunes scored for two or three violins and a keyboard. They were all easy enough, there were just a lot of them; she tried to put together about a two- or three-hour long stream for this thing. She flipped to a random one, intending to just use these to warm up before she switched to her solo, and proceeded to pull her violin from its case, rosining her bow liberally before beginning to play with some simple long tones, smoothly spilling into the accompaniment of one of the tunes.
As she played, she forced herself to look up from her music at the one-way glass, making eye contact with herself even though it burned in the back of her skull and made her fingertips numb. The bow squawked, and she mumbled a curse as she instinctively rendered all but her instrument invisible. This was how she’d done the stream the last two years, invisible except for her violin – she’d stylized her youtube channel after that, “Inviolisible” (shut up, she was 13 when she picked it) where she practiced and performed in eyecatching locations with nothing more than her violin appearing to float and dance in mid frame. In the last three years she had garnered a grand total of 2,500 subscribers, which was a lot! But didn’t hold a candle to most musicians. Still, after last year’s stream she’d netted about 250 new… hopefully this year’s would be even better.
She painstakingly continued to try to bring herself back to visibility, now playing freely through a heavily ornamented variation of a recent Starbright chart-topper. She barely needed the music at this point, but she always preferred to hide herself in it… she glanced in the mirror and again, her fingers slipped, her heart dropped from her throat, and next thing she knew she was invisible again.
Dammit. She restarted the piece, trying to focus on the flow of the music and not on the taunting image of herself in the mirror.
Since they’d gotten here, Angie had done her best to make sure she, at least, wasn’t conspicuous. She’d gotten a (virgin) strawberry daiquiri and was sitting on a barstool, sipping on it and chattering away with the bartender, flashing glances to other patrons who hovered around and just generally acting like she was there for pleasure, not business.
As soon as Patricia returned, though that façade fell away. She placed her drink down on the counter, leaning in to give her undivided attention, and wincing sympathetically at Patricia’s disgusted expression. There was no way that she was letting an underaged girl do this part of the job alone; she hadn’t been happy about the seduction idea either – why have Patti do it when Angie’s power was literally perfect for it? But the others hadn’t heard her complaints.
At Patricia’s suggestion of masquerading as a hired crew, Angelica shook her head. “These two,” she said, pointing to Brie and Tom in turn, “look like they could be hard enough to be worth their salt as a hired crew. I don’t. I can try to get in with you, though. I know you have your… cover, but I’m sure their big fancy meeting won’t mind another pretty woman. I just don’t want to leave you without backup in a room full of this guy’s lackeys.”
She had changed before meeting the others here, and now wore a sheer lace wrap, black and sequined, over a dark burgundy red minidress and black platform boots. Her makeup was her usual cherry-red lipstick and somewhat oversized false eyelashes with a dramatic smoky eye, her hair piled up in a messy, hairsprayed updo. She hadn’t needed to be told twice that they were going clubbing.
Luca Zorione Perez || “Canary” || Genderfluid || Nineteen (07/22) || A Class Villain || Color Code ffd147
Aliases: In their daily life, they go by Luca or Zorri interchangeably, to go with their fluid self-image. They have three known legal aliases, for which fake documents can be produced at any time - one Lucas Santana, one Zara Sutton, and one Peter Kingsley.
Physique: A slim, androgynous figure standing five feet nine inches tall, Zorri dresses primarily in oversized hoodies and slim-fit jeans, their well-worn belt adorned by a variety of charms and trinkets. She always wears a mask covering her angular nose and thin lips; the mask is always pristine, made out of white cotton and probably lined with a filter of some sort. Her medium brown hair is choppy and slightly overgrown, falling in a piecey bob that covers her ears and skims the back of her neck. Notably, her eyes are a warm amber shade that brightens to a glowing gold when she uses her powers.
Her skin is a fair, light olive tone somewhat leaning towards yellow undertones; whenever she’s using her power it glimmers faintly gold, and when using her battery ability her whole body radiates an orangey-gold glow.
On the right side of her chest, centered just below her collarbone but radiating up over the top and outside of her shoulder, there’s a large scar of about a hand’s span, raised, red, and vaguely, irregularly star-shaped.
Blood Type: B+
Occupation: half-time villain, half-time philanthropist, and part-time online college student, studying chemistry.
Affiliation: The Dogpack
Personality: Luca is a ready performer of their most idealized self, vivacious and flirty when surrounded by those they trust, and earnest and optimistic to those who they don’t. Those who don’t know them imagine them to be a great kid, straight-A honor roll sort of thing. They’re fond of games of deceit and subterfuge, though they’re decidedly bad at them; its all they can do to keep their petty crime ring a few steps in front of the law. Though that’s mostly because of their underlings…
Beyond this, though, they’re fiercely loyal to the gang that raised them, having a close-knit, sibling-like camaraderie among the handful of them that roam Castleburg’s streets. Luca is in a place of being undermined as their leader, however; back in Las Palmas they were somewhat of an underdog, about the fifth or sixth in command up until the split. Their friends view them as a somewhat fragile younger sibling to be protected. As a result of trying to prove themselves, Luca is prone to overcompensating and lashing out with a cruelty (and often a brashness bordering on stupidity) that is very unlike who they aspire to be. They try to stand by a platform of “no bystander casualties”, though as their work becomes more dangerous (and lucrative) it’s harder and harder to make sure that happens.
They’re fiercely protective of those they see as less-fortunate and incredibly bitter towards those in power, especially those they perceive as not doing enough to support those who are even worse-off.
They prefer to style themself as a “roguish freelancer”, not as a villain.
Backstory: The Dogpack of Las Palmas has been Zorri’s family since before she can remember. She cut her eyeteeth on petty pickpocketing in the heart of the city’s rich tourist districts, begging and scrapping for food and places to sleep on the streets. As she grew, she watched the city changing before her eyes.
Her family – and it was a family, even if people who didn’t understand called it a gang – grew in size and in influence, and turned from mere survival to …thriving, in a sense. They grew plants and brewed moonshine and cooked harder drugs, or at least, the older kids did, and scrounged up money for rent in an apartment that was far too nice for the likes of them.
As she grew up, she began to be trusted with more responsibility. Some of the older members left, off to pursue their own doings – some of them went off to jail, and came back different, or didn’t come back at all, and so the power kept shifting, the gang fairly-reliably remaining under 30 years old and around 30 members. Even the constant fleeing from the law was no match for the unity and safety in family the group always found.
The city was changing, though. Fewer and fewer tourists came as packs of cerberkins and similar, canine-adjacent Leftovers, as well as feral dog packs, began to descend on the city. IBERIA tried their best, but the feeble hero organization proved no match for the ever-growing packs of dogs and doglike beasts. All at once, people remembered that the Canary Islands were not, in fact, named after the pretty little songbirds, but rather named for the dogs.
The Dogpack had always remembered, having started from the same scrounging of scraps and begging at rich venues that so many of the canines did, and for a while there was a sort of wary, mutual respect between the ragged teens and ragged creatures. But as the years went on that peace eroded; soon it was a struggle, again, to survive. Without the income from tourists, the beginnings of poverty set in, and crime spiked. New competition, often from superpowered groups, began to erode their territory.
By this point in time, several of the Dogs had developed powers, Zorri among them, but they didn’t have the same sheer destructive skill that the other gangs had, and they quickly lost ground.
Things came to a head when Zorri was sixteen; several of the younger members of the group were mauled by a cerberkin while out on patrol. She was able to stabilize the most severely injured of them, but the damage to the group’s morale was done. They stopped patrolling altogether. Several of the longtime members left, as did many newcomers; they sought more security, more power, and less dog attacks. Zorri begged the others to consider leaving, but they would not hear her. Eventually, she could take it no more, and she gathered up the few allies she had; they bought fake passports and eventually made their way the hell out of Las Palmas. Their destination? Castleburg. A huge city of all sorts of people, a sprawling underground, and minimal MWE encounters…
As soon as they arrived in Castleburg, they realized two things. First of all, Zorri’s asthma, which had been manageable in the much smaller city of Las Palmas, was entirely uncontrollable here. The teen very nearly died from the thick air of city life; it’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city. Second of all, Castleburg was not much better off in regard to heroes, or really any law enforcement, keeping the peace. There was the same hierarchy of gangs and families in the underworld here, too, and more of the damage to the city seemed to be done by heroes than by villains.
Now much smaller in numbers, and in a much bigger place, the remnants of the Dogpack struggled to carve out a niche for themselves. And having nearly died, Zorri struggled to re-earn the respect of what was left of her family. She sought to be the same kind of parent as Javier (the head of the pack when she first joined up) was, but found the youth of Castleburg unwilling to fall in with a group with no real territory or industry to speak of.
It’s been three years of slow, hard work, but it’s paid off. They fell in with the same drugs-and-petty-crime niche they had before; some of the Pack talk about going bigger and really making a name for themselves, but Zorri isn’t so sure. She doesn’t wish to be a villain, even though her gang – which is now getting involved, once again, into hard drugs, grand larceny, rumors of prostitution and (if they take up the lead they’ve recently sniffed out) illegal monster-fighting rings – seem to have that idea. They’ve begun attributing their collective works of mischief and illegality to Zorri’s name; in the public eye they’ve become The Canary’s Dogpack. It’s become an order of theatrics; yellow feathers, or failing that, yellow flowers, left at the scene of the crime in their getaway.
She doesn’t know what to do with them, but they’re bloody successful. An impressive dossier of grand larceny follows them, thousands stolen from the residences of affluent people all across the city. Less-well-documented drug charges follow them as well, and a few counts of possible homicide – Zorri is pissed about those. She’s expelled gang members for reckless endangerment and for homicide before; murder is fine, if it’s someone who needs murdering (and she can think of a few bloated businessmen that she’ll jump at the chance to take a laser to) but the innocent bystander is blameless, in all of this.
They’re supposed to be more on the side of Robin Hoods, not Hannibals. Jeez.
A gang of about eight core, full-time members, and about a dozen more who flit in and out for various purposes. They’re all teens and twenty-somethings, currently renting a home in Watervale that’s much too nice for their likes.
Their current base of operations is a seedy club in Brookside, where most of their growing and science happen in the basement, while the upstairs is a bar and club that caters to the not-yet-legal-to-drink-in-regular-places crowd. The place has several escape systems in place and Luca is on guard themself every night they’re open, ready to net the whole thing in an illusion if law enforcement comes knocking. There’s (forged, but well-forged) paperwork at the ready if they’re asked about a liquor license and so on, and similarly forged health inspection certificates. They do a hopping business; the gang almost doesn’t have to do crime to stay afloat.
As a group they’re known both for their crime and for their frequent donations to soup kitchens and community schools; as long as no one questions where the money is from, money is money, right? It’s theorized that once the gang members are looked after, Luca donates most or all of their surplus to those in need. Hoods, not Hannibals.
In addition to Luca, three of the others have powers, and as a result are kind of the “face” of the gang. Their information is briefly detailed below.
Elias “L” Ferreira, aka “Torero”: He’s about 22, big and brawny and kind of stupid, being brutally honest. Probably a B- tier by now, his abilities are superhuman strength and reflexes. He’s trained since before he could walk with a handgun. At the moment he serves as Luca’s muscle and brawn; incidentally, their right-hand person who’s been with them since the early days in Las Palmas.
Aya Martinez, aka “Flamenco”: 21, tiny, clever, and very pretty, she’s incredibly popular as an entertainer at the club. A C- tier, her ability is limited clairvoyance about the history of an object, based on touch. Useful in a variety of niche circumstances. Beyond that, she’s the closest thing Luca has to a friend and advisor. She has a great head on her shoulders but
Nicolas “Nico” Valverde, aka “Conquistador”: 19, handsome in a roguish, kind of scrawny way. He’s probably a B- in power level; he’s gifted with super speed and “Blur” as he calls it, which creates a brief illusion of him still in the place he started from – it gives him the appearance of teleportation, even though he doesn’t actually teleport. He’s been using blades and informally training a variety of martial arts since he was a child; he prefers blades to firearms, finding them a far more intimate way to kill. Probably the most terrifying and amoral of all the OG Packmates.
Power: An incredibly powerful variant on photokinesis, Luca’s power was named “Luc’s Luster” and then eventually shortened to “Lucluster” (A play on “lackluster”) by an affectionate gangmate. It’s far from lackluster, however…
While on the surface it’s simple light manipulation, which enables widespread visual illusioning by simply bending light rays around objects he wishes to hide or alteration of the rays reflecting off of an object, Luca’s abilities go far beyond these usages of petty illusion. He is very good at this level of power manipulation, however; he could illusion the width of a city street and length of a city block with reasonable focus, and maintain it for several hours as long as he didn’t need to change the scene much. Animated scenes obviously take more energy than stagnant ones. He finds this use to be very boring, but it does have its advantages.
More offensively, he is capable of reflecting and refocusing light from most parts of his body. A common use of this is gathering light with one hand and using the other to lens it into a thin, highly-focused beam. At the moment, this is dependent on willpower and focus and currently renders a thumbtack-sized beam, but he can use external lensing (he always carries a variety of conical and domed pyrex and other high-temperature-glass, stolen from other totally legitimate applications, for specifically this purpose) to focus this light further down to about the size of a pin’s pointy end. The effects of these beams are dependent on the light he has accessible; with full-spectrum light like sunlight, he can dip into the effects of infrared or ultraviolet lasers, for example. His max power output is similarly dependent on his light source, though his maximum limit is established by his body’s conductance as well; he can’t very well divert the entire energy of the sun. He can divert streetlights and similar constructions entirely, but has no tangible effect on the sun even when pulling as much power as he can. Sunlight can be focused to melt or at least soften steel; with a few hours of direct sunlight, planning, and focus, he could bring a building down with strategically placed weak points. Not that he would, but he could. These lasers are highly effective at rendering electronics ineffective; they can melt indiscriminately through plastic and softer metals, and with a bit of time to sit can melt glass and even steel. When focused down as thin as possible, they have a blasting effect and can etch or, given enough time, bore through non-flammable or meltable materials.
He can store the energy from light sources in his body, rather like a battery; in direct sunlight he can charge his “battery” to full in fifteen minutes if he focuses on it, but it’s exponentially longer time from artificial light or if his attention wanders – a bright streetlight might charge him in two hours of constant absorption, a lamp in a house four, a nightlight might take a whole day. As he’s charging his eyes begin to glow, then his skin, and finally (and most visually conspicuously) large, ray-like wings of light, spanning several meters, fan out from his shoulder blades. These wings are entirely intangible; people can walk through them with no ill effect save a warm or slightly tingling feeling. He has to be focusing in some capacity for his battery to charge with any efficiency at all, though he does passively charge a very small amount as he spends time in the sun.
As an interesting side effect to all of this, he doesn’t get sunburned, even though he’s fairly pale.
From this battery, he has a few powerful effects he can manifest, a testament to the diversity of his power. The first is a powerful, short-burst regenerative effect. It’s easiest to do on others if he’s in physical contact with them, but he can also do it on himself, though he lacks the focus to do it neatly. The stored energy, applied to damaged tissue, can forcibly regenerate it in a rather short time. It has been used to heal wounds that would have been shortly fatal (notably a chest gunshot that barely missed the heart but punctured lungs) though it would not be something successful on brain or neurological injuries. It also takes incredible precision to use neatly – it’s easy to cause disfiguring scarring. The scar on his chest is a result of this. Its important to note that this does not debride the wounds as it heals – Luca still has lead rattling around in his ribcage.
The second effect he can manifest is a sort of barely controlled hyper-agility, including short bursts of flight. By channeling the energy into his muscles and bones, he can override his body’s psychological limitations and hit harder, run faster, and jump higher than a normal human, though not beyond the physical capabilities of his musculature. He doesn’t have increased resilience to match; it’s not uncommon for him to have stress-related injuries as a result of using these abilities. Related, though distinct, is the use of the stored energy to lift his body several meters into the air; he can hover for a short time or propel himself through the sky in traditional superhero style flight, though at the moment it takes about five minutes to deplete his energy from full. It’s important to note that he hasn’t learned how to land yet if he completely depletes his power.
Third, and most destructively, he is capable of emitting stored light from his hands into beams resembling his usual spectrum of lasers, even without a light source to divert, though these stores are quickly depleted.
Other Notes: They’re genderfluid and often refer to themself with different pronouns and terminology on different days, as is reflected in the sheet, even if they don’t really change their appearance.
They have terrible asthma and probably another respiratory condition that they've never had diagnosed. It’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city.
A few hours found Angelica at home, freshly showered and doing paperwork on her dual computer monitors. A small window in the corner of one monitor, which a keen observer would recognize as the life simulation game Ooze Farmer, periodically distracted her attention, though for the most part she was able to attend to her work.
Her apartment was a small, studio setup, though it was breezy and well-lit with natural light thanks to a big window in the center of the space, one without curtains but surrounded by dozens of plants in pots and hanging baskets. The kitchen, half in an alcove beside the door, was small but spotlessly clean, no trace of dust or crumbs on any surface; two black barstools were pulled up to the other side of the counter to double as an eating space.
The rest of the apartment, with fake-wood floors polished almost unnaturally bright, was similarly spotless and devoid of clutter. A tasteful (if barely scented) basket of blue-toned potpourri served as the centerpiece of a dark-colored, modern coffee table, surrounded by two beige loveseats and a cream-colored oversized ottoman. A dark, minimalist bookshelf spanned the far wall, with a television and DVD player mounted to it. The sleeping space was partitioned off by the wardrobe and a curtain, and the remaining corner of the room was dominated by Angelica’s work desk, black with silver accents to match the rest of the furnishings. At the moment it had a single three ring binder, a pen organizer with four writing utensils, and her keyboard and mouse on the top, beyond the two large monitors and the computer tower that stood in the corner.
Angelica looked up from her ooze farming busy work as her phone vibrated in her pocket.
A party. She glowered. Why was her apartment nominated, of all of them? She’d just finished cleaning.
Still, she knew better than to try to argue with a group text. People were certainly on their way already.
Cool, see you all soon. I’m at home right now so just come on up. Apartment 305. It’s on the fifth floor, because my landlord enjoys confusing people. Or something.
She saved her work and closed out of Ooze Farmer – that one would be embarrassing to explain – and wandered to the kitchen, retrieving sandwich fixings from the refrigerator. She assembled a variety of healthy sandwiches (tomato, turkey, cheese, lettuce, and so on) and cut them precisely into triangular quarters, stabbing each quarter sandwich through with a toothpick for a bit of flare. These were prettily arrayed on a plate and placed in the center of the counter, along with a variety of 0 calorie flavored sparkling water and glasses to pour the drinks into.
She was nothing, if not a gracious host, though she wasn’t even entirely sure how many people she was to be hosting. She tried to see that, thumbing through her phone to look at the recipients list, but found nothing.
All at once, there was a knock on the door. Quite a flurry of knocking, to be honest. Angelica hurried over to the door, pressing a bland smile onto her face as she listened to the speaker. She’d seen Patricia in and out of various events at HERO, often ones that had ended spectacularly badly. At least she was trying to finish high school, unlike most of the heroes in the organization…
“Of course, come on in,” she said. “Truth be told, I have no idea what Brianna is on about. Parties?” She rolled her eyes, standing aside to let Patricia into her apartment. “I made sandwiches, and there’s some soda, I just set it all out so it should be nice and cold. I didn’t have time to get down to the store, sorry.”
Time: 5:30ish, Monday. Location: Campus Commons Interacting: Naomi @canaryrose and Aaliyah @Aurora Primrose, tangentially with Adam, mentions Mia @VampireOracle, any observers.
Echo awkwardly patted the back of Naomi’s hands with their free one, smiling at their friend and trying to play off the blush that slowly rose up in their cheeks. Oh, god, stop being a dumbass for five seconds, Echo. “Alice, yeah. I think we’re thinking of the same new kid. Is there really only one in our year?”
As the alarms went off, Naomi stiffened, digging her fingers into Echo’s forearm (though the gloves kept it from being uncomfortably warm) and hiding her face in Echo’s shirt. At first, they thought she was crying, but they realized it was a panicked, frenzied laughter after a brief moment. Cursing the awkward buzz that suddenly filled their arms and the heat flaming in their cheeks, they wrapped their free arm around Naomi’s shoulder, mumbling indistinct reassurances and doing what they could to shush their friend before even more people looked over. At least the laughter was spreading; if no one noticed earlier, they might think she was just… overcome with the hilarity of seeing Phoenix faltering and flailing onstage. Briefly, a person – looking to be around their age, but maybe a bit younger - materialized over Naomi’s shoulder. After a moment Echo finally placed who he was – Adam…Edwards? Maybe? He was a grade below them and had been here for at least a couple years; they’d seen him around campus, though they’d never overlapped in classes.
He absently asked what was funny, and Echo hissed “Bad timing, dude,” but he was gone again the next time they looked, run off to join the search headed by – Mia, yes, one of the cheerleaders; typical outgoing cheerleader thing to start. Still, if they were searching, it was only a matter of time before one of the clocks was found.
They glanced to Naomi again, lightly petting their friend’s hair in an effort to soothe the laughter. “What do you think about getting out of here?” they whispered. “We can go watch like…from the library or something, maybe, or…”
Their words trailed off as a shadow fell over them once again. Echo tilted their face up to see a responsible-looking college student. Aaliyah, their brain helpfully supplied. Followed by several expletives; she certainly looked the part of a responsible, snitching-to-professors sort. The newcomer focused intensely on Naomi, only giving Echo a cursory looking-over.
“I’m Echo,” they said helpfully, knowing that if Naomi tried to speak everything would be made worse. “And I uh – I think we have a situation here, is all. You know, I was just likening my brother up there to a traffic cone.” They pointed to the podium, miming Phoenix’s over-pompous compensating for himself, using the moment to take a second to think. “A fancy-dress traffic cone. And apparently the visual from that was just too funny. That’s all.” They smiled earnestly up at Aaliyah.
A third alarm started going off somewhere, relatively close by. Echo resisted the anxious tells that might give away their lie, clinging onto Naomi just as much as she clung to them and focusing their attention on the search that was now underway by several of the cheerleaders and other students.
A pair of oversized, chrome-and-white headphones reflected brightly in the dim ambient light of the auditorium. Many of the older heroes shot glares in the headphone-wearer's direction; she shrunk down in her seat and did the best she could to just ignore them.
In Eliza’s defense, it was loud in here. She studiously focused on the hem of her skirt, picking loose threads out of the fabric and doing her best to ignore the neck-prickling looks the people around her gave her. She could hear actual talking just fine through the headphones, thank you very much – it just helped to not have the loud breathing and noisy shuffling and ambient tapping of feet and indistinct murmuring all trying to catch her attention at once, too.
She checked her phone, mentally counting minutes and planning the bus ride back to school. It was going to be close… this thing was probably going to go for twenty or thirty minutes, and she had to be back at the school by 12:45, assuming she didn’t grab one of the supervisors for a doctors’ note. The “doctor’s appointment” she’d claimed she had wasn’t technically a lie; there were plenty of doctors present in the HERO facilities, probably even at this assembly, so surely by a way of thinking she was at an appointment with doctors, and therefore, at a doctor’s appointment. Besides, all of the medical orderlies here were well used to her asking for notes – they wrote plenty for the other part-time heroes with actual desk jobs, and for the few other high schoolers, too.
The organization’s director stepped up behind the podium, looking uncomfortably formal, and Eliza braced herself for the most-definitely-too-loud speech, fumbling for her phone automatically and starting music with a custom-programmed gesture. Angie, seated behind her, poked her firmly between the shoulder blades, doubtlessly saying something about respect and so on. Eliza firmly ignored her. Soft synth orchestra music slowly faded in to fill her ears (though the volume was as low as it could be) and took the edge off of the man’s sharp, over-amplified speech.
He spoke at length about a recent mission, one that filled Eliza’s mouth with bitterness – of course everyone else had gotten to go on a fun mission, while she’d been stuck at school. She couldn’t really pay attention to any of the information, not until Powers spoke of damage. Seven billion dollars? She shivered involuntarily, fidgeting with her headphone cable rather than continuing to look at the pictures that flashed across the fancy display screen. She was unable to avoid the images completely, however, catching reflections of them in the corners of her eyes. A vague panic built up in her throat and she looked around helplessly for a moment, eyes glazing over slightly as she realized there was no easy way out.
She tapped her music up a few clicks to drown out the speech.
As abruptly as the presentation had started, it was over. She only realized this because the people around her started scrambling to their feet, the room rapidly clearing. With a shaking breath, she stood, too, stifling the revulsion and flighty panic that came from being boxed in by other people. She focused on breathing through her mouth, eyes on the floor, until the crowd funneled out into the corridor. As soon as she had a bit of space, with most people forming a ragged line for the elevators, she ducked into the stairwell. The air was welcomingly cool, and she leaned against the wall for a second, her whole body trembling as she grounded herself, breathing deeply.
After what felt like a few seconds, but was probably closer to several minutes, she glanced down at her phone again to check the time, and cursed. She was more than likely going to be late. And she decidedly did not have the energy to go pester one of the doctors, not now.
A frantic descent of the stairs and arrival at the bus station across the street later, and another string of expletives flew from her mouth.
At some point in the last hour, her bus pass had fallen out of her pocket. She figured she maybe had time to run back upstairs and look for it… but no, no. The bus was already arriving. And she couldn’t afford to be any later.
Mumbling to herself, she closed her eyes, feeling the wave of tingles pass from toes-to-head that meant she was becoming invisible. When the last of them had subsided, and the static from her headphones, she glanced around.
Good. No one had seen her, she thought. Though a few people were gathered, they weren’t staring, as people often tended to do if she forgot and turned in front of them.
As they boarded the bus, she shuffled along after them, careful to make sure that she didn’t inadvertently bump anyone. Nothing would give her away faster than that.
She perched on the edge of an unoccupied seat, praying no one particularly exuberant tried to sit beside her. And also that the bus-driver didn’t happen to have x-ray vision. That would be a good one to avoid, too.
Someone would turn in her bus pass to the desk, surely, and she could pick it up after school. That was how this usually happened, the twenty-odd other times she’d managed to lose it. And she’d just catch a ride home tonight with her dad, if it didn’t. It was going to be a long rest of the school day, that was for certain.
The meeting was uneventful, as they always were, though Angelica found herself eyeing the suit-and-tie folks warily. She had grown used to being the best-dressed one in the room at any time and found this change…mildly disconcerting.
Powers had to be daft, thinking that publicly calling someone out for a meeting wasn’t going to raise questions. Angelica was never one to nose in something that wasn’t her business, of course.
Well, no. That one was bullshit. Nosing around in stuff that she wasn’t supposed to be was literally her entire job here. It had to be not-that-high-of-security of a matter if he was going to be that careless, though. As everyone filed out of the auditorium, Angelica trailed near the back of the crowd. Upon re-entering the hallway, she caught a brief glimpse of her baby sister diving for the stairwell. No matter; Eliza would do what Eliza would do. Angelica found herself a perch in the hallway, one of the few benches that dotted the open spaces. She pulled her phone and a day planner from her pocket – though she’d had it silenced during the meeting, of course, no fewer than seven reminders and invitations had gone off. She set about filling in the planner, meticulously adding detail bubbles to the events of the coming days and setting about constructing her spread for the following week. Angelica was nothing if not organized.
Several others hovered in the hallway, though far less discreetly. Out of habit, she switched on her powers, heat blooming through her scalp and then down her face and chest, across every bit of exposed skin. Anyone who looked at her now would see precisely what they wanted, be it a beautiful woman to flirt with, a near-faceless bystander to be observed by, or the kindly old grandmotherly type that they happened to be missing terribly.
Someday, Angelica was going to learn how to pinpoint emotions and desires and capitalize on them, though she wasn’t entirely certain how that would work. Her abilities were slippery, even for the HERO scientists, and further work and training on them had proved rather difficult at best.
She continued to thumb through her journal, in no hurry to move on – though it appeared her focus was intently on her books, she watched the antics that Spacewalker – that was his code name, right? – and the one known as Will were getting up to. As if they thought they were hiding. When Brianna emerged from the auditorium, appearing shaken and clutching a manila folder, Will immediately cornered her. Typical. She lightly shook her head, turning a page in her journal and filling in an event for the next week, listening intently to what was being said at the door.
Eliza Grace Alexander || “Murmur” || Female || Sixteen (01/17) || C- Class Hero || Color Code c3bbc9
Nicknames - “Ellie” is one favored by her friends. “Mumble” sometimes, when she’s struggling with her words.
Physique - Eliza would best be described to be of an average or perhaps slightly thin frame, with little by way of muscle. She’s quite short, standing about 4’9” on her bare feet, though when out and about she wears platform boots for an extra couple of inches. Her hair is cut in a short, layered bob, just barely skimming her jaw, with an overgrown fringe that constantly falls in her eyes. Most of her hair is dyed black at the moment, with thin purple highlights throughout and a thick purple stripe in her bangs. Her eyes are grey and notably wide, flitting around and focusing on hundreds of things at once.
She dresses in a way that some might consider softly intimidating – lots of black, accessorized with chokers, studded belts, and layered bracelets on both wrists. She will often be seen in some combination of tights and short skirts, layered tops, an oversized hoodie (at the moment her favorite is black, with embroidered silver music notes detailing the collar and pockets) and platform boots. For missions, she dons a much more practical all black outfit, swapping her signature boots out for ballet flats – less audible, and better to run in. Always on her person, though usually around her neck, is a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. They’re usually plugged into her phone and playing some sort of instrumental music – classical crossover is her go-to, or else ambient video game soundtracks. She has sensory issues and self-regulates using them. She often also has her violin case.
Blood Type - O-
Occupation - Hero, high school student, youth orchestra member.
Affiliation - H. E. R. O.
Personality - Contrary to her somewhat standoffish appearance, Eliza is a total sweetheart who loves to make friends. She’s often fairly daydreamy, spaced-out at the best of times, and so some might describe her as ditzy. Notably, she seems unable to make eye contact for more than a few seconds. Quite forgetful, she’s prone to trail off in the middle of sentences, distracted by something in her own thoughts; the easiest way to bring her back is to mention her special interests – at the moment, she absolutely adores street fashion, and she’s always loved music history. Get her talking about something she cares about, and though she’s soft-spoken, you’ll find it hard to get a word in edgewise. She does have a speech impediment, which several years of speech therapy has struggled to fix, and it gets worse when she’s excited, or especially nervous.
Eliza has a particular fondness for any sort of animal, and especially for young children as well. She’s often curious about the world, and she loves exploring new places. She can sometimes be a bit of a troublemaker, though she means no harm by it and would never damage anyone’s property for her pranks. In that regard, some would say she’s hyper-empathetic, though she often struggles to express that she understands and on some level feels the pain of people around her – she hates to cause any more suffering. She’s very visually expressive, with somewhat overexaggerated reactions to a lot of things, and she cries easily; verbally expressing and discussing emotions has never come naturally to her, however.
Backstory - Eliza comes from a line of illusion-related superheroes on both sides of her family; her father still works for HERO, though disabilities from repeated injury have left him as a desk-working administrative type. Her mother retired early to raise her and her sister. For the most part, she’s had a pretty uneventful childhood, going to a good school and living in a good neighborhood in the city for most of it.
She’s always wanted to be a superhero, and follow in the line of her parents – the running joke when she was little was that she had to get a job when she turned sixteen, like normal kids did – so she applied to HERO, on a part time basis. It’s only supposed to be around her school and orchestra obligations, though even in her few months of employment she’s had to miss school a few times. Her parents aren’t so happy about that one, but she’s mostly able to keep her grades up despite it.
She’s taken violin lessons since she was tiny and has been in orchestra since fifth grade. She’s quite good at her instrument, but since a particularly embarrassing episode of her life finds it very difficult to remain visible while she plays. This, the most embarrassing moment of her life, was when she was thirteen – she had a solo during the last concert of her eighth-grade year. Everything seemed like it was going to go brilliantly, but as soon as she got on stage, she found she could remember nothing.
In her embarrassed panic, she turned invisible and fled, running away and hiding from what turned into a missing child search… for two days. HERO agents ultimately discovered her and returned her to her family. Returning after that was hard; facing her classmates and teachers was harder. It was the first public demonstration of her abilities, and there was some considerable backlash from the other students. She was glad to put that behind her when she transferred for high school; she deliberately begged to go to a different school than her old classmates did. Her parents thankfully agreed, and she’s been able to turn over a new leaf and for the most part divorce her daily life from her superhero moonlighting.
Power - Wind’s Whisper – Invisibility.
A fanciful name coined by her sister, Eliza’s power is actually much simpler than that. She can make herself, and any object that is only in contact with her body (for instance her clothes, or her violin if she’s holding it), invisible in the visible light spectrum. She cannot become weightless or make herself intangible, it’s purely that her body becomes invisible. When she is invisible, she does not leave a shadow. She is still detectable by heat or by x-ray. Furthermore, sounds she makes can still lead to her detection – breathing and footsteps are still audible. Regarding duration, she’s able to stay continuously invisible for up to about twelve hours, though the fatigue that it causes her is such that she won’t be able to do it again for several days of recovery. Switching from visible to invisible takes more effort than maintaining one or the other.
Other Notes - She is autistic; she was diagnosed at the age of seven.
Angelica Marie Alexander || “Wish” || Female || Twenty-One (08/20) || D Class Hero || Color Code 9ed7db
Nicknames: She usually doesn’t give a nickname for her given name; particularly stubborn sorts like her sister call her Angie. Occasionally, teasingly, she’ll be called Wishbone as a play on her hero name.
Physique: Angelica is of slightly short stature, around five feet, three inches. She has some muscle definition and is what most would consider “fit”; some might describe her as being busty, but some might also be slapped for it. Her hair is quite long and curly, a rich black in color (it’s dyed; she spends a lot of time and money on its upkeep). Her pale skin is accentuated with a healthy blend of peachy blush across her cheeks and the tip of her nose, and her highlighter is always on point; her steel-grey eyes are emphasized further by thick, precisely winged eyeliner. She dresses simply and stylishly, favoring clothes that are easy to run or fight in, should the need for that arise. She prides herself on her well-manicured wardrobe, and her well-manicured hands; she’s always perfectly well-dressed and professional.
It’s a lot of work for someone whose natural appearance is often unseen.
Blood Type: O-
Occupation: Full-time hero.
Affiliation: H. E. R. O.
Personality: Some would say that Angelica is too proper for her own good. She takes herself very seriously; one need only look at her to confirm that. She’s courteous to everyone, if a little bit overly formal most times. Regarding what she actually does with HERO, she’s very secretive – to be honest, she’s very secretive with basically everything about herself. Even the people she’d call her dearest friends struggle to pinpoint anything about her history or her opinions of people. She’s got a bit of a reputation as a backstabber; slander, blackmail, and other such things are never out of her arsenal of tricks if someone behaves recklessly on a mission – not that she’d publicly admit to such behaviors, of course.
Beyond this, she's a bit of a romantic; she still has an idealized view of the world and of her own, and everyone else's, importance to it. She truly believes they'll be able to make it a better place. She’s a bit of a bitch, though. It should be noted that she is bitterly jealous of the fact that her younger sister's power was classed higher than her own was. She’s loyal to the organization and frustrated by her lack of success; she feels as though she is much more important than she’s actually given credit for. Where is everyone else’s sense of subtlety?!
Backstory: Much like her sister, Angelica lived a very normal life. She was the first child, so rules were a little stricter; she had to graduate high school, and either go to college or become a full-time hero. It wasn't a choice for her - both her mother and father had had long careers as superheroes. Her mother outright said that she wished she could go back to work, and probably would, if it wasn't for Eliza at home.
Angelica became, to some extent, her mother's wish fulfillment. They had very similar powers, after all, and Angelica eventually was placed into a similar oversight/damage control role as her mother had been; she's worked in the organization for three years, but is very frustrated by her inability to advance. She's just as powerful as - and has considerably better control than - a lot of these whelps, so... why hasn't she been given a riskier placement? Power: Heart’s Desire – manipulation of aesthetic perception.
Angelica is able to manipulate people's perception of her appearance based on what they most want her to be. She's not aware of the changes that the person perceives, or what trait they wish for her to fulfill, however.
Details such as her hair color and style, eye color, face shape, and wardrobe are perceived to change, though her stature does not and her figure only slightly. It's important to note that she doesn't physically change, only the perception that others have of her - When she uses her power, four different people can all be talking to her simultaneously and have different ideas of what she looks like. It does not affect the sound of her voice, nor does it affect her appearance in photographs. It does affect people's memories; however they perceived her is how they will continue to perceive her in their memory, and it can be jarring if she forgets to engage the power the next time she meets the individual. Or incredibly helpful, depending on application...
She can choose when people see this, though people can be aware of the changes should she consciously engage it after they start interacting. She becomes fatigued if she keeps the power passively engaged for more than a few hours out of a normal day, and the more people she keeps it engaged for, the less she can focus on anything else and the quicker she tires out. She can keep it engaged for a medium group of people, like a school classroom, for about an hour before she must rest.
Luca Zorione Perez || “Canary” || Genderfluid || Nineteen (07/22) || A Class Villain || Color Code ffd147
Aliases: In their daily life, they go by Luca or Zorri interchangeably, to go with their fluid self-image. They have three known legal aliases, for which fake documents can be produced at any time - one Lucas Santana, one Zara Sutton, and one Peter Kingsley.
Physique: A slim, androgynous figure standing five feet nine inches tall, Zorri dresses primarily in oversized hoodies and slim-fit jeans, their well-worn belt adorned by a variety of charms and trinkets. She always wears a mask covering her angular nose and thin lips; the mask is always pristine, made out of white cotton and probably lined with a filter of some sort. Her medium brown hair is choppy and slightly overgrown, falling in a piecey bob that covers her ears and skims the back of her neck. Notably, her eyes are a warm amber shade that brightens to a glowing gold when she uses her powers.
Her skin is a fair, light olive tone somewhat leaning towards yellow undertones; whenever she’s using her power it glimmers faintly gold, and when using her battery ability her whole body radiates an orangey-gold glow.
On the right side of her chest, centered just below her collarbone but radiating up over the top and outside of her shoulder, there’s a large scar of about a hand’s span, raised, red, and vaguely, irregularly star-shaped.
Blood Type: B+
Occupation: half-time villain, half-time philanthropist, and part-time online college student, studying chemistry.
Affiliation: The Dogpack
Personality: Luca is a ready performer of their most idealized self, vivacious and flirty when surrounded by those they trust, and earnest and optimistic to those who they don’t. Those who don’t know them imagine them to be a great kid, straight-A honor roll sort of thing. They’re fond of games of deceit and subterfuge, though they’re decidedly bad at them; its all they can do to keep their petty crime ring a few steps in front of the law. Though that’s mostly because of their underlings…
Beyond this, though, they’re fiercely loyal to the gang that raised them, having a close-knit, sibling-like camaraderie among the handful of them that roam Castleburg’s streets. Luca is in a place of being undermined as their leader, however; back in Las Palmas they were somewhat of an underdog, about the fifth or sixth in command up until the split. Their friends view them as a somewhat fragile younger sibling to be protected. As a result of trying to prove themselves, Luca is prone to overcompensating and lashing out with a cruelty (and often a brashness bordering on stupidity) that is very unlike who they aspire to be. They try to stand by a platform of “no bystander casualties”, though as their work becomes more dangerous (and lucrative) it’s harder and harder to make sure that happens.
They’re fiercely protective of those they see as less-fortunate and incredibly bitter towards those in power, especially those they perceive as not doing enough to support those who are even worse-off.
They prefer to style themself as a “roguish freelancer”, not as a villain.
Backstory: The Dogpack of Las Palmas has been Zorri’s family since before she can remember. She cut her eyeteeth on petty pickpocketing in the heart of the city’s rich tourist districts, begging and scrapping for food and places to sleep on the streets. As she grew, she watched the city changing before her eyes.
Her family – and it was a family, even if people who didn’t understand called it a gang – grew in size and in influence, and turned from mere survival to …thriving, in a sense. They grew plants and brewed moonshine and cooked harder drugs, or at least, the older kids did, and scrounged up money for rent in an apartment that was far too nice for the likes of them.
As she grew up, she began to be trusted with more responsibility. Some of the older members left, off to pursue their own doings – some of them went off to jail, and came back different, or didn’t come back at all, and so the power kept shifting, the gang fairly-reliably remaining under 30 years old and around 30 members. Even the constant fleeing from the law was no match for the unity and safety in family the group always found.
The city was changing, though. Fewer and fewer tourists came as packs of cerberkins and similar, canine-adjacent Leftovers, as well as feral dog packs, began to descend on the city. IBERIA tried their best, but the feeble hero organization proved no match for the ever-growing packs of dogs and doglike beasts. All at once, people remembered that the Canary Islands were not, in fact, named after the pretty little songbirds, but rather named for the dogs.
The Dogpack had always remembered, having started from the same scrounging of scraps and begging at rich venues that so many of the canines did, and for a while there was a sort of wary, mutual respect between the ragged teens and ragged creatures. But as the years went on that peace eroded; soon it was a struggle, again, to survive. Without the income from tourists, the beginnings of poverty set in, and crime spiked. New competition, often from superpowered groups, began to erode their territory.
By this point in time, several of the Dogs had developed powers, Zorri among them, but they didn’t have the same sheer destructive skill that the other gangs had, and they quickly lost ground.
Things came to a head when Zorri was sixteen; several of the younger members of the group were mauled by a cerberkin while out on patrol. She was able to stabilize the most severely injured of them, but the damage to the group’s morale was done. They stopped patrolling altogether. Several of the longtime members left, as did many newcomers; they sought more security, more power, and less dog attacks. Zorri begged the others to consider leaving, but they would not hear her. Eventually, she could take it no more, and she gathered up the few allies she had; they bought fake passports and eventually made their way the hell out of Las Palmas. Their destination? Castleburg. A huge city of all sorts of people, a sprawling underground, and minimal MWE encounters…
As soon as they arrived in Castleburg, they realized two things. First of all, Zorri’s asthma, which had been manageable in the much smaller city of Las Palmas, was entirely uncontrollable here. The teen very nearly died from the thick air of city life; it’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city. Second of all, Castleburg was not much better off in regard to heroes, or really any law enforcement, keeping the peace. There was the same hierarchy of gangs and families in the underworld here, too, and more of the damage to the city seemed to be done by heroes than by villains.
Now much smaller in numbers, and in a much bigger place, the remnants of the Dogpack struggled to carve out a niche for themselves. And having nearly died, Zorri struggled to re-earn the respect of what was left of her family. She sought to be the same kind of parent as Javier (the head of the pack when she first joined up) was, but found the youth of Castleburg unwilling to fall in with a group with no real territory or industry to speak of.
It’s been three years of slow, hard work, but it’s paid off. They fell in with the same drugs-and-petty-crime niche they had before; some of the Pack talk about going bigger and really making a name for themselves, but Zorri isn’t so sure. She doesn’t wish to be a villain, even though her gang – which is now getting involved, once again, into hard drugs, grand larceny, rumors of prostitution and (if they take up the lead they’ve recently sniffed out) illegal monster-fighting rings – seem to have that idea. They’ve begun attributing their collective works of mischief and illegality to Zorri’s name; in the public eye they’ve become The Canary’s Dogpack. It’s become an order of theatrics; yellow feathers, or failing that, yellow flowers, left at the scene of the crime in their getaway.
She doesn’t know what to do with them, but they’re bloody successful. An impressive dossier of grand larceny follows them, thousands stolen from the residences of affluent people all across the city. Less-well-documented drug charges follow them as well, and a few counts of possible homicide – Zorri is pissed about those. She’s expelled gang members for reckless endangerment and for homicide before; murder is fine, if it’s someone who needs murdering (and she can think of a few bloated businessmen that she’ll jump at the chance to take a laser to) but the innocent bystander is blameless, in all of this.
They’re supposed to be more on the side of Robin Hoods, not Hannibals. Jeez.
A gang of about eight core, full-time members, and about a dozen more who flit in and out for various purposes. They’re all teens and twenty-somethings, currently renting a home in Watervale that’s much too nice for their likes.
Their current base of operations is a seedy club in Brookside, where most of their growing and science happen in the basement, while the upstairs is a bar and club that caters to the not-yet-legal-to-drink-in-regular-places crowd. The place has several escape systems in place and Luca is on guard themself every night they’re open, ready to net the whole thing in an illusion if law enforcement comes knocking. There’s (forged, but well-forged) paperwork at the ready if they’re asked about a liquor license and so on, and similarly forged health inspection certificates. They do a hopping business; the gang almost doesn’t have to do crime to stay afloat.
As a group they’re known both for their crime and for their frequent donations to soup kitchens and community schools; as long as no one questions where the money is from, money is money, right? It’s theorized that once the gang members are looked after, Luca donates most or all of their surplus to those in need. Hoods, not Hannibals.
In addition to Luca, three of the others have powers, and as a result are kind of the “face” of the gang. Their information is briefly detailed below.
Elias “L” Ferreira, aka “Torero”: He’s about 22, big and brawny and kind of stupid, being brutally honest. Probably a B- tier by now, his abilities are superhuman strength and reflexes. He’s trained since before he could walk with a handgun. At the moment he serves as Luca’s muscle and brawn; incidentally, their right-hand person who’s been with them since the early days in Las Palmas.
Aya Martinez, aka “Flamenco”: 21, tiny, clever, and very pretty, she’s incredibly popular as an entertainer at the club. A C- tier, her ability is limited clairvoyance about the history of an object, based on touch. Useful in a variety of niche circumstances. Beyond that, she’s the closest thing Luca has to a friend and advisor. She has a great head on her shoulders but
Nicolas “Nico” Valverde, aka “Conquistador”: 19, handsome in a roguish, kind of scrawny way. He’s probably a B- in power level; he’s gifted with super speed and “Blur” as he calls it, which creates a brief illusion of him still in the place he started from – it gives him the appearance of teleportation, even though he doesn’t actually teleport. He’s been using blades and informally training a variety of martial arts since he was a child; he prefers blades to firearms, finding them a far more intimate way to kill. Probably the most terrifying and amoral of all the OG Packmates.
Power: An incredibly powerful variant on photokinesis, Luca’s power was named “Luc’s Luster” and then eventually shortened to “Lucluster” (A play on “lackluster”) by an affectionate gangmate. It’s far from lackluster, however…
While on the surface it’s simple light manipulation, which enables widespread visual illusioning by simply bending light rays around objects he wishes to hide or alteration of the rays reflecting off of an object, Luca’s abilities go far beyond these usages of petty illusion. He is very good at this level of power manipulation, however; he could illusion the width of a city street and length of a city block with reasonable focus, and maintain it for several hours as long as he didn’t need to change the scene much. Animated scenes obviously take more energy than stagnant ones. He finds this use to be very boring, but it does have its advantages.
More offensively, he is capable of reflecting and refocusing light from most parts of his body. A common use of this is gathering light with one hand and using the other to lens it into a thin, highly-focused beam. At the moment, this is dependent on willpower and focus and currently renders a thumbtack-sized beam, but he can use external lensing (he always carries a variety of conical and domed pyrex and other high-temperature-glass, stolen from other totally legitimate applications, for specifically this purpose) to focus this light further down to about the size of a pin’s pointy end. The effects of these beams are dependent on the light he has accessible; with full-spectrum light like sunlight, he can dip into the effects of infrared or ultraviolet lasers, for example. His max power output is similarly dependent on his light source, though his maximum limit is established by his body’s conductance as well; he can’t very well divert the entire energy of the sun. He can divert streetlights and similar constructions entirely, but has no tangible effect on the sun even when pulling as much power as he can. Sunlight can be focused to melt or at least soften steel; with a few hours of direct sunlight, planning, and focus, he could bring a building down with strategically placed weak points. Not that he would, but he could. These lasers are highly effective at rendering electronics ineffective; they can melt indiscriminately through plastic and softer metals, and with a bit of time to sit can melt glass and even steel. When focused down as thin as possible, they have a blasting effect and can etch or, given enough time, bore through non-flammable or meltable materials.
He can store the energy from light sources in his body, rather like a battery; in direct sunlight he can charge his “battery” to full in fifteen minutes if he focuses on it, but it’s exponentially longer time from artificial light or if his attention wanders – a bright streetlight might charge him in two hours of constant absorption, a lamp in a house four, a nightlight might take a whole day. As he’s charging his eyes begin to glow, then his skin, and finally (and most visually conspicuously) large, ray-like wings of light, spanning several meters, fan out from his shoulder blades. These wings are entirely intangible; people can walk through them with no ill effect save a warm or slightly tingling feeling. He has to be focusing in some capacity for his battery to charge with any efficiency at all, though he does passively charge a very small amount as he spends time in the sun.
As an interesting side effect to all of this, he doesn’t get sunburned, even though he’s fairly pale.
From this battery, he has a few powerful effects he can manifest, a testament to the diversity of his power. The first is a powerful, short-burst regenerative effect. It’s easiest to do on others if he’s in physical contact with them, but he can also do it on himself, though he lacks the focus to do it neatly. The stored energy, applied to damaged tissue, can forcibly regenerate it in a rather short time. It has been used to heal wounds that would have been shortly fatal (notably a chest gunshot that barely missed the heart but punctured lungs) though it would not be something successful on brain or neurological injuries. It also takes incredible precision to use neatly – it’s easy to cause disfiguring scarring. The scar on his chest is a result of this. Its important to note that this does not debride the wounds as it heals – Luca still has lead rattling around in his ribcage.
The second effect he can manifest is a sort of barely controlled hyper-agility, including short bursts of flight. By channeling the energy into his muscles and bones, he can override his body’s psychological limitations and hit harder, run faster, and jump higher than a normal human, though not beyond the physical capabilities of his musculature. He doesn’t have increased resilience to match; it’s not uncommon for him to have stress-related injuries as a result of using these abilities. Related, though distinct, is the use of the stored energy to lift his body several meters into the air; he can hover for a short time or propel himself through the sky in traditional superhero style flight, though at the moment it takes about five minutes to deplete his energy from full. It’s important to note that he hasn’t learned how to land yet if he completely depletes his power.
Third, and most destructively, he is capable of emitting stored light from his hands into beams resembling his usual spectrum of lasers, even without a light source to divert, though these stores are quickly depleted.
Other Notes: They’re genderfluid and often refer to themself with different pronouns and terminology on different days, as is reflected in the sheet, even if they don’t really change their appearance.
They have terrible asthma and probably another respiratory condition that they've never had diagnosed. It’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city.
Overview: Blake von Brandt Workplace Compatibility: 08 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 04 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: NA / 10 || Overall Opinion: 10 / 10
“While I struggle to find a sufficiently useful way to combine our abilities in the field, I feel as though Mister von Brandt is a capable and compassionate hero, and I feel as though my operative team dynamics are well-balanced by his presence.” “Since this is off the record – my cupcake.”
Angelica finds herself in an awkward situation regarding Blake – she adores him, and adores the overt sappiness of their relationship (which is one of the few places where she breaks her distant demeanor) but some part of her is vaguely embarrassed and ashamed of the whole nature of their workplace-centered relationship. If what Grace has said is true, they’re breaking so many ICOSA regulations… and she despises being that kind of rulebreaker. But – love is love, right? Overview: Patricia Donnelly Workplace Compatibility: 06 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 09 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 06 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 8 / 10
"Miss Donnelly is an exemplary hero, especially considering her age and experience. Having completed many of her case files, I feel she is an excellent professional resource and a great candidate for team-building. Exemplary, as I said. Few complaints - well, one. Her public demeanor may need a little bit of work - perhaps a few months of tutoring in public speech would do her professional image some good." "Patricia is a lovely person and she's done so much good for Eliza. She's too burdened by the image of her father, though."
Angelica admires Patricia's strength and ability to reason (something she thinks many of the other HEROes are lacking in.) She has a lot of sympathy for the younger girl, since her own upbringing was so shaped by having a hero for a father - she can't imagine the stress of going into hero work in the shadow of a villain. Regarding the two's personal relationship, however, there isn't much of one - Angie may call them acquaintances or friends, but she would also liken them both to being housecats who coexist peacefully but don't go out of the way to socialize. Overview: Jamie Stewart Workplace Compatibility: 03 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 05 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 04 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 05 / 10
"Reckless and with the reasoning capacity of a four-year-old, it's a wonder that Miss Stewart is not more of a liability to our organization. Still, she has a heart of gold and I appreciate her contributions, all the same. I have seen in her paperwork that damage control training has proven unsuccessful - the public relations manager's comment was that it was a "lost cause" to send her... but regardless of that, I feel some sort of further intervention may be required - perhaps a personal intensive training? For the sake of all of us." "Don't tell Jamie, but she scares me, a bit. While I admire her strength...she's too powerful for her own good."
Angelica likes Jamie fine as a person - she's sweet, if infuriatingly ditzy - but is mildly terrified of her powers. The pirate dream fucked her up with that one. She feels the two of them have very little in common, and so she has very little interest in interacting with Jamie outside of professional circumstances. Even in professional circumstances, she's seen Jamie lose control too many times to ever fully trust such a powerful hero. Still, though, being mean to Jamie would be like being mean to a small dog, so she's always cordial and pleasant enough. Overview: Brianna Hart Workplace Compatibility: 08 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 04 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 07 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 07 / 10
"Miss Hart has some questionable methods and some more-questionable behaviors, but she does her best. While I inquire about the sanity of Director Powers, placing her in charge of something that required more than a modicum of discretion, I do see the potential that he sees in Brianna as well." "Brianna is a wild-card. I appreciate her spontaneity, and wish she were to take some lessons in not blowing people's cover."
Angelica appreciates Brianna, and is also slightly wary of her. She does not necessarily appreciate the "urban" upbringing that Brie received, and while her skills have proven useful enough, she sometimes has questionable ways of looking at problems, ways that completely violate ICOSA and HERO regulations. Angie does admire Brie's stubbornness, and appreciates the girl's soft spot for leftover creatures, but also somewhat resents the other girl, finding her somewhat of a bad influence on Blake. Overview: Thomas Rees Workplace Compatibility: 06 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 05 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 04 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 6 / 10
"Mister Rees is spontaneous enough, I suppose, and certainly has a unique worldview. His ...other antics leave a lot to be desired - might I suggest another HR intervention? Or removing the seating arrangements from the common room..." "I've interacted with him briefly on missions. He's nice enough. I wish he wasn't so irresponsible."
Angelica has little to say regarding Tom, she thinks he's polite enough and has a good enough head on missions, but he is completely and totally irresponsible. Mostly, she wishes he'd get his act together, because his reputation is such that it tarnishes the image of HERO as a whole. And she feels bad for Grace, pining after his disastrous self. Overview: Joseph Moore Workplace Compatibility: 08 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 06 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 02 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 06 / 10 "Mister Moore and I get on remarkably well in the office, which is to say he and I leave each other well enough alone to not interfere in each other's office dealings. Beyond his constant unsolicited advice, for which he could likely do with a referral to Human Resources for a refresher, my opinion of him is amicable - though of little substance." "Creepy "mentoring" thing with Liza and Patti aside, he's an odd duck but not an intolerable one. I'm glad he got a head on his shoulders about that whole business, at least."
As with Tom, Angelica knows more of Joseph than she knows him directly. He's a recluse with self-worth issues; that part she empathizes with more than she cares to admit. But beyond that, while she likes him well enough, she would not consider him a friend or even more than a workplace acquaintance. Overview: Grace Mok Workplace Compatibility: 08 / 10 || Social Compatibility: 07 / 10 || Interpersonal Closeness: 05 / 10 || Overall Opinion: 08 / 10 "Miss Mok might be the newest addition to our team, but she is among the greatest contributors. I have no complaints regarding her field record (which is impeccable) nor her ready bonding with the rest of our group. I admire her precision and attention to detail in all matters of her life, professional and personal. Truly, a model HERO for the rest of us. "Grace is a breath of fresh air from the disaster of our group. Sometimes a little bit too fresh... but she's sweet and very practically-minded. Eliza and Patricia both like her, also, so an additional bonus in my book."
Though Angie doesn't know Grace very well, she has nothing but positive thoughts for the other young woman. Another responsible young hero type, Angie looks to Grace a lot for help mediating and otherwise doing damage control on the antics and miscalculations of the younger heroes.
Blake! ✯ ☀ ✯ "Like the big brother I never had! Or sort of do have?" Eliza adores Blake, truth be told. He's so much cooler than Angie ever was, though some of his coolness is rubbing off on her, too. He's sometimes a bit unpredictable and is way too fond of explosions and jumpscares for Eliza and her sensory issues to ever be completely at ease around him, but he always has fun ideas for things to do and places to explore. Precisely because of this, however, she will NEVER, EVER let him babysit the rainbuns. ♥ Patricia ♫ ♥ ♪ "She's so pretty, and sweet, and nice, and..." Eliza's first proper relationship, barring a boy her freshman year - she dated him for two weeks and he stood her up at homecoming, so, that set a pretty low bar - but this relationship is everything she ever dreamed of and more. Cuddles, cute dates, matching prom dresses, it's enough to make any girl swoon. Patricia really gets her, she doesn't know how to explain it any better than that. She just hopes that she's enough to keep her happy, too... Jamie!! ☄ ❅ ☆ "She is so much fun!" Another person who will never be allowed to babysit the rainbuns, Eliza adores Jamie all the same. The two have a delightfully childish friendship - Jamie is the only other hero besides Patricia who gets to see Eliza's stuffed animal collection, and the two have been known to entertain each other with elaborate stories and pretend scenarios while in the car or on a plane to training. Eliza's terrified of Jamie's lack of control, something her sister hasn't helped with horror stories from case files, but she loves the older girl's personality and sunny outlook on things. Brie ⛈ ✴ ⛈ "She's... spicy. The only maybe with the rainbuns." Questionable turn of phrase (which was a running joke earned from accidental zaps during various trainings) aside, Eliza doesn't really know how to take Brie's bluntness and frequent sarcasm. The two have bonded over various issues regarding Leftover rights and caring for their respective menageries, but beyond that there is little they have in common. Like Blake, Brie is a little too impulsive and stubborn for Eliza to ever be at ease around, but she doesn't by any means dislike the older girl. Starbright ✵ ✵ ✵ "I mean, he's. Starbright. I don't - know what else to say." While she hasn't quite forgiven Starbright for manipulating her into a position where she felt she had to work with him, she does respect that working in his studio has helped her musicianship. Even if his is head-desk-inducingly bad, she appreciates the opportunity she has been given to work with him - and maybe teach him a thing or two herself. Still, she's certainly not close with the star, nor would she consider him a friend; if his ostentatious facade is a facade it's one that runs exceptionally deep. Joseph 🌁 🌁 "I mean... he's Joseph! He's sometimes a downer but at least he's realistic?" Eliza very much appreciates that Joseph came to visit while she was hospitalized in France, and then after the whole Nightshade endeavor. She's had little by way of meaningful interaction with him outside of the large group setting, so she doesn't really know him, but she doesn't dislike him either. Grace! * ⭒ ⭐ "Grace!! She's so sweet. And I love Chell!" Eliza has only interacted with Grace outside of work on a few occasions, but she finds the older girl to be a second Angie-like voice of reason in her life, for the most part. With the exception of the alcohol issue, which earns Grace plenty of fun points in Eliza's book. It makes her very happy to see that Grace, in all of her highly functional adultness, still has a rainbow unicorn plushie in her bedroom. Also, girls' night sleepovers at Grace's house are a lot of fun, in no small part because of Chell.
Eliza Grace "Murmur" Alexander OFFICIAL HERO APTITUDE RESULTS Exam Proctor: Sarabelle M. Cortez
Physical Exam Score: 38 Subject's scores were higher than initially expected based on body mass and stature, but below benchmark based on age and sex. Subject performed slightly above age average for sprinting and middle-distance runs, considerably above age average in jumps and climbing, but did not finish the distance run. Subject scored considerably below average in strength tests with the sole exception of pull-ups, which were at age average. Subject completed the first hundred meters of the five hundred meter swim in one minute and thirty two seconds, but only completed the entirety of the swim in eleven minutes, twelve seconds, rendering her final time in the bottom tenth of all applicants who did not take a disqualification for the event.
Intelligence Exam Score: 81 Subject demonstrated nearly flawless logical reasoning at all levels, but proved readily confused by idiomatic turn of phrase beyond a high school level. Subject demonstrated knowledge at or above university level in highly specialized content areas, above grade level across nearly all others.
Potential Power Exam Score: 19 Subject demonstrated considerable ingenuity and resourcefulness in disassembling one of the thirteen constructs through nonpowered means, including asking the area security for help, but proved unable to dismantle the more substantial constructs. Subject proved "stubborn" in efforts, but ultimately surrendered with a time of five hours, twenty three minutes and forty-four seconds, having fully deconstructed one and partially deconstructed another of the thirteen structures. Points awarded for both stubbornness and creativity.
Non-Powered Combat Exam Score: DISQUALIFICATION Subject likely used unauthorized external tools. Of seven trained assailants, five stopped their approach approximately two meters away from the subject and knelt in surrender. It was indicated, in the words of Assailant Three, "I couldn't bear to hurt her." The sixth assailant landed a blow, which caused both the subject and the assailant to burst into tears, the assailant immediately apologizing and surrendering. Assailant seven (who is blind) approached, and in two point four three seconds, rendered the subject immobilized on the ground. Conclusions: Suspected visual mind control, result voided.
Powered Combat Exam Score: 48 Subject was partnered with A minus tier hero Chaos Coyote. In twenty-six minutes and four seconds, subject defeated Chaos Coyote by tricking him into straying under one of his own conjurations. Collateral damage was fair to substantial; subject strategy seemed to involve simply not getting hit until the opponent grew too tired to continue, or frustrated enough to be easily deceived. Subject sustained no injury, however, nor was there any collateral directly caused by the subject.
Field Aptitude Exam Score: 57 Subject infiltrated the factory without detection by any henchman in fairly average time. Further, she was able to free four of the six hostages without detection. Subject has fair reasoning skills, amplified by disarmingly-harmless appearance, and was able to appeal to the villain to release the remaining hostages, but failed to secure the weapon of mass destruction. Subject attempted to disarm the weapon, but followed an incorrect procedure that may have caused a detonation. Upon realizing this, subject flung herself atop the weapon, intending (naively) to lessen the impact of the detonation.
Psychological Exam Score: 30 Subject has significant worries about her own self-worth and ability as a Hero. She is self-sacrificing and needlessly reckless with her own life. Panelists expressed concern about her drive to become a hero; she does not really seem committed to the lifestyle, speaking at length about career goals other than our organization.
OVERALL EXAM SCORE: 273/700. Average Mark 39. Lowest Pass. With great reluctance and much deliberation, I mark that Eliza Alexander has PASSED her HERO Aptitude Examination despite a disqualifying score of zero marks in section four. I declare this after extensive consultation with Drs. Dryll and Colley, who ruled 2-1 against myself and all protocol that the disqualification in Section 4 should NOT be used for a disqualification in all sections. Since Miss Alexander successfully achieved a passing score despite the zero section, she is declared FIT FOR SERVICE within the Heroic Egalitarian Rescue Organization.
Victoria Alexander - Heartstrings - C Hero - color: #c489a7 A forty-six year old woman with fair skin and very long, inky black hair, now streaked through with the thinnest hints of varying shades of grey. It’s usually worn in a braid, which skims the back of her thighs. She’s somewhat short, about five feet four, and often wears low heels that add an inch or so. She has stern grey-blue eyes, the beginning of wrinkles around them, and smile lines lightly creased around her mouth.
She’s Angelica and Eliza’s mother.
Her power is an illusion class power, where she can enable her physical form to morph into that of a person, living or dead. She can work from photographs or videos or even personal memory, but needs a visual representation. Changing form is quite laborious and time-intensive, usually taking about an hour for a complete alteration (though she can do a haphazard job on someone who looks vaguely similar to her in about 10 minutes), and depending on the changes required can be painful - large increases or reductions in stature, for instance, leave her in agony from the stretching of her bones and muscles. Changing back, or to another shape, can be incredibly exhausting and draining - she physically can’t change form more than twice in one day or about five times in a week. She can hold onto forms indefinitely once she’s fully changed, however.
Yes, she can “cut” her hair from Pinterest reference photos. She did so extensively as a teen.
Because of the way her power works, she’s stupidly flexible, but in her increasing age seems to have the beginnings of arthritis and osteoporosis. She hasn’t properly used her powers since before she was pregnant with Angelica, not wanting to risk it as a parent, nor wanting to terrify her children when they were young.
As a teenager she wildly experimented with all manner of aesthetics. She changed form so much that she forgot what she actually looked like.
Julian Alexander - Wintergreen - B+ Hero - color: #c0ffee A forty-seven year old man with badly damaged pure white hair and large, vaguely fractal-shaped patches of skin that are permanently discolored greyish-blue and icy cold to the touch. He walks with a limp and often uses a cane; he has a prosthetic leg.
He’s Eliza and Angelica’s father, and a pretty regular sight in HERO HQ, usually doing desk work or assessing new heroes for the system.
As his color code implies, he likes coffee. Contrary to his now-somewhat-terrifying appearance, he’s a gentle and good-natured man.
His power is sort of illusion class and sort of thaumaturgy class - he can render objects intangible. It can only effect one type of material at a time (I.e. the concrete parts of a wall will be intangible, but the iron support beams won’t); it takes extra focus to implement it across multiple materials. His maximum area of efficacy is approximately a 6 foot cube of one solid material, though it varies based on the material, its density, and its composition. He can hold his maximal volume of intangibility for a few minutes at a time, though smaller areas can go exponentially longer, and he’s learned other ways of using his power, using the intangibility for milliseconds and letting the after effects do more damage.
Peculiarly, things rendered intangible maintain their structural integrity once the intangibility wears off, unless he both wants it and the entire contact surface of the object was effected - if he thought about it, he could break a lamppost or tree off by making an entire section intangible, but couldn’t do the same for a house’s foundation. He might be able to do it on a support beam for a bridge or something, however. He can phase through walls with no obvious structural damage.
Because of Physics, objects he renders intangible also become incredibly, incredibly cold to the touch upon resolidifying - causing immediate tissue damage to anyone in contact with them in the first few minutes, and only warming at the normal expected rate for that material. He is not immune to his own cold; he has no feeling in the palms of his hands as a result and many scars of freezerburns on his body, some of which required extensive surgery (and even the amputation of his leg) to correct.
Rumor has it that as a young agent he got in over his head while alone and undercover, and dropped an A tier villain, [REDACTED], into the subflooring of their hideout and froze them there while waiting for his reinforcements. Other rumors insist that [REDACTED] did not survive their injuries from the detainment.
Adrian Alexander - 51 year old man, believed to be unpowered. Julian's brother. Damien Alexander-Bentley - 45 year old man, believed to be unpowered. Julian's brother. Aslan Bentley - 48 year old man, believed to be unpowered. Damien's husband. Lucy Bentley - 19 year old female, unpowered. Angie and Eliza's cousin; Damien and Aslan's kid.
These are the people Eliza spends the most time with outside of HERO – her ensemble, originally called The Dragons Four and recently renamed Dragonheart, started as an underclassmen string quartet for extra credit at their high school and has since grown into a somewhat well-known presence at local venues. They’ve played weddings and conferences before, and pride themselves on their classical sound mixed with pop and indie melodies. While some might say they’re a cover band only, they’ll happily whip out a Mendelssohn quartet or quintet alongside their usual cover-band sound – it’s just what’s most popular among their age group.
Hannah Zhong – 18, senior, cellist. Serious and down-to-earth, a total mom friend. Auditioned for the Hahn Conservatory of Castleburg as a junior, and got in – she’s been doing dual enrollment there. Probably the most serious about pursuing music academically. Has a biiit of a superiority complex about her musicianship; everyone loves and fears her, just a little bit. She also handles most of the booking of venues and marketing stuff for the group, being exceptionally detail- and schedule-oriented.
Asher McPherson – 18, senior, violist. A wild-card, Asher is always really unpredictable in his attire and demeanor; there have been several times where he’s almost been thrown out of the group for engaging in illegal or ill-faith actions (Mostly underage drinking and driving and similar low-level tomfoolery) that might have reflected poorly on all of them. They all adore him, but they sometimes wish he could be just a little more serious about his technical musicianship… still, he brings a lot of the spark and spunk to the group, and helps their unique sound with his switching between electric and traditional viola.
River Hernandez – 17, senior, violinist. The principal violin of Dragonheart, they have the confidence and stage presence to make up for even Eliza’s shrinking violet syndrome. Charismatic and aesthetically striking (they’re having a bit of a pastel goth phase, at the moment), they’re the closest thing that the band has to a frontman. Living for the attention and press, they’re always transcribing and arranging new music. Some would say they’re a little bit overly driven, and sometimes have too high of expectations of fame and fortune for the group – perhaps it could be said that they’re in it for the stardom, not the music.
Taylor Patton – 18, senior, clarinetist. Taylor performs with the group on occasion – he played the Mozart clarinet quintet with them at a concert last fall and it was a stunning hit; they periodically bring him back during concerts. A longtime friend of River and Asher, the three of them often work on arrangements and PR stunts as a team; Taylor is also a gifted composer and has written original works for the entire six-member group. He’s a good mediator, also, smoothing conflicts and jarring personalities and visions within the ensemble; he jokes that he’s more their manager than a performer.
Tian Zhong – 17, junior, pianist. Hannah’s cousin, Tian has only recently started performing frequently with the group. She attends a music magnet school in Kingsdale; it’s expected that she’ll be going to conservatory as well. Despite her illustrious background though, Tian’s very laid-back, preferring to see where the group will go and being in it for the friends and the practice time as much as anything.
shylarah
