Daxam

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

<Snipped quote by Damo021>

...we'll be having a run-in with the Classified Crew soon enough...

@Wayward

"Come on, let me at 'em! I haven't let loose in ages!"

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Personally, I think 1 or 2 makes the most narrative sense. If you go with 2, maybe have her hitchhike into town?

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

"Yeah, they're all with me. They should be finding their way inside any time, now."

As if on cue, Vincent's companions found themselves at his booth. "Cait's right. I'd have kicked you guys out of the truck ages ago, otherwise." He chuckled and moved farther into the corner of the booth to make room for Cleome as the others sat on the other side, then picked up one of the menus. He browsed it for a few minutes, keeping in mind the meager remains of the winnings he earned from the last fight he had been in, before telling the tired-looking employee, "I'll take a burger with some fries and a chocolate shake."

He passed his menu and waited for his friends to make their orders as he looked out the window, his chin resting palm. While it might look like he was just idly staring out the window, in reality, he was keeping a close eye on their surroundings. After spending so much time out on the streets and on the run from the law and government, he had developed a rather acute situational awareness. He felt confident that he could spot a cop or government agent no matter how big the crowd and, given how small Eureka Springs seemed, spotting someone out of place should be even easier.

"So long as we head out of the country," he said after a while, still looking out of the window. "I don't mind what direction we go. Europe, Japan, Canada, anywhere's gotta be better than here."

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Gotcha. I'll just go ahead and hold off on posting, in that case

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

I'm probably gonna post tonight unless someone else was planning on it

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent glanced at the blunt and raised his hand to decline. He didn't have anything against weed or those who smoked it, he just wasn't one of them. "I dunno about any skateboard shop," he responded to Cait and Anita as he pulled in front of the dented gas pump, "but even if they've got a mechanic, there's no way I'm letting them touch Bertha. I've been doing a good job keeping her going all this time, I don't need anyone messing with my work." To Cleome, he added, "I don't blame them. With how hot it's been, I'd be in hiding, too."

He climbed out of the truck and stretched his arms over his head with a groan. After sitting so long, he was eager to move around. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the front of the truck as he looked around. He spotted the two vehicles, visibly recoiling when he saw the paint job on the Jeep, and glanced into the diner, where he saw what he assumed were the owners of said vehicles, the pair chatting away like they knew one another. It was such a peaceful, every day scene that he didn't feel any reason to be on guard, but he still decided that the one who can make his skin bulletproof should be the first to approach, just in case. Pushing himself away from the truck, he told his companions as he walked toward the door, "I'm gonna go grab some food, then I'll see about getting the AC fixed."

The door opened, accompanied by the cheerful ringing of the bell mounted on the frame overhead. The two men paused in their conversation as Vincent glanced at them, then found a seat in one of the empty booths, far from the counter.

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent drove the old truck down the interstate, one hand on the wheel while the other drummed on the outside of his door in time to the music that played over the video. It had been quiet for the last hour or so on the road, the silence filled by the music and Vincent's voice as he quietly hummed along, only slightly off-key. His dark hair fluttered in the wind that blew through his open window, the AC in the truck having long since given out, something Vincent had meant to look into repairing, yet never got around to. I'll take care of it at the next stop, he had always told himself, only to be interrupted by something else, like a more pressing repair or a hasty exit from whatever town he and his companions were in.

Eureka Springs, next right. Vincent had been so absorbed in his thoughts and the music that he barely noticed the sign as he drove past it. He glanced at his companions, then decided he felt that he could eat. "Alright, kiddos, as the driver, I'm making an executive decision, so we're gonna be making a pitstop," he called out as he flipped on his turn signal before changing lanes. "We can stretch our legs, grab some food, maybe figure out where to go from here. Old Bertha could use some gas, anyway."

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent Ryder

"Show me who needs their ass kicked!"

Name: Vincent Ryder

Age: 27

Gender: Male

What Makes You A Misfit?: Vincent's been in his fair share of trouble with the law. Not only does he not see the sense in hiding his powers, but he also has no qualms about using them in the fights that he "gets sucked into."

What Do You Think About The Classified Crew?: Considering the fact that the Classified Crew had killed his entire family, destroying the only sense of stability he had ever had when he was still young, and forcing him to more or less be on the run ever since, saying that Vincent hated them is a bit of an understatement. If given the chance, he would gladly burn their headquarters to the ground, but even though he'd never outwardly admit it, he knows he isn't strong enough to take them on by himself.

Appearance:

WARNING: BIG IMAGE

Vincent stands at about 6'0" with shoulder-length black hair, usually in an unkempt state, steely gray eyes, and a scar that runs diagonally through his eyebrow, narrowly missing the corner of his eye. His has a well-built, toned physique with tattoos that cover his right arm, which glow when he uses his power. His outfit of choice is a black shirt of some kind, usually a t-shirt or sleeveless, jeans, boots, and his trusty overcoat. He also carries compressed lumps of steel in his pockets so he always has raw material on hand.

Personality: Vincent isn't a total idiot, but he isn't exactly the brightest crayon in the toolshed, either. He's also a bit of a hothead and enjoys a good fight a little more than he probably should, figuring most problems can usually be solved with a good punch and if not, then it's not a problem worth solving most of the time. That said, he's quick to trust, to his detriment and benefit, and if he considers someone a friend, he has their back for life.

Skills/Abilities: To see him and hear him talk, one may not initially think that he's not only rather decent in the kitchen, but that it's one of the few passions he has aside from fighting. He's also a halfway decent mechanic, his primary magic making it easy for him to create the parts and tools he needs.

Powers/Magic: Vincent's main ability is two fold, one part being a form of ferrokinesis, the manipulation of metal. Specifically, he can alter and shape iron, creating a wide assortment of items with the only limits being his imagination and supply of raw materials. The second half of his main power is the manipulation of raw carbon, capable of drawing it out of the carbon dioxide in the air or even manipulating the structure of the carbon within his own body, giving him ability of creating a kind of dermal armor for himself. While he has an instinctive knowledge of how his power works, explaining it is an entirely different story.

Being an avid brawler, he had figured that just having one tool, despite it being a multi-tool of sorts, in his arsenal wouldn't cut it, so he found a tutor in an underground fighting coach to teach him his secondary magic: strength enhancement. While he isn't able to throw cars like his mentor could, he can easily flip them for cover or, say, push a truck by himself should it ever break down.

Backstory: Vincent and his twin brother, Isaac, were born to the Ryders, a family that prided themselves on their blacksmithing ability in times of old, thanks to their unique brand of magic passed down through the generations. Even when the government began cracking down on magic users, the Ryders continued their business, though they had to keep the more magical aspects hidden from prying eyes. Despite the danger, Vincent and Isaac's parents kept the tradition going by teaching both of their sons their magic. This not only involved traditional book learning, but due to the fine control the magic required, the boys had their right arms tattooed in special ink just like the rest of their family. The tattoos act as a focus for their magic, giving them greater control over the molecules they would be working with.

Then one day, when the brothers were young teens, the Classified Crew raided the Ryder home after receiving an anonymous tip. The Ryders fought back with everything they had, but were no match for the numbers and firepower the CC had on their side. Vincent and Isaac had fled at their mother's behest, but they didn't get far before they were ambushed by CC agents. The twins tried to fight back, but they were no match for their attackers. Isaac, having been more skilled with their family's magic than Vincent, held off the agents while Vincent, at his brother's urging, ran into the woods. To this day, he doesn't know if Isaac died that night or if he was still locked up in Area 66.

Ever since then, he had been on his own, living off of whatever jobs he could get, whether it be working in a kitchen, an autobody shop, or fighting for prize money in an underground tournament. He never stayed in one spot for long and always kept on the move.

RP Sample: helps me to see a glimpse of how your character acts): The sun had set long ago, yet Vincent walked down the street, whistling jovially to himself. He had just won another tournament and, after he got some food and paid for a motel room, he had a little money left over. He remembered a comic shop he had seen earlier that day, a rare one that claimed to be open 24/7, and figured he could get some reading material before he hit the road again. Wonder where I should go, next? he wondered to himself. Maybe south? I suppose I could head out west, though. I've always wanted to be a cowboy!

Just then, he heard a siren wail in the distance and instinctively ducked into a dark alley. He waited in the shadows for a few minutes as he listened. Normally, he wouldn't bother hiding, but he wanted to get those comics before he had to run again. When he heard the sirens fade, he let out a sigh of relief and started to step out of the alley, only to hear yelling behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of men, one pressed against the wall as the other aimed a gun at his head. He turned away and briefly thought about walking away before he let out a sigh and turned around. "Hey, buddy," he called as he casually strolled up to the men. "Not very neighborly to hold someone up at gunpoint, is it?"

The gunman whipped around toward Vincent, his eyes wide and his gun shaking in his hand. "D-don't come any closer!"

Vincent stopped and cocked his head, as if thinking, then resumed walking as he replied, "Well, I've gotta come closer. People are sleeping and I don't wanna yell."

The man steadied his gun with his other hand and yelled, "I'm not fucking joking, man, stop! I'll shoot, I swear!"

At this, Vincent couldn't help but grin. "In that case, wouldn't you want me to get closer? It'll give you an easier shot."

The gunman started to see red. This guy wasn't just trying to call his bluff, he was openly mocking him. Not only was he keeping him from an easy score, but he was making him feel like a fool! Before he knew what he was doing, the man pulled the trigger.

Vincent's head rocked back as the bullet slammed into his forehead. The gunman, who had truly never shot anyone before, looked on in horror as the energy from the bullet pushed him backward. This was it. He was going to go to jail, all because he was trying to make a quick buck. The man had turned around to run away, but heard the sound that made his blood run cold: a quiet chuckle. He slowly turned back to find Vincent still standing there, only he was slumped forward, this time, still chuckling. The horror of going to prison was replaced with an entirely new sense of fear as Vincent slowly raised his head, still grinning as the squashed bullet fell harmlessly from his forehead. A muted glow shown through the sleeve of his overcoat and there was just enough light in the alleyway for the gunman to see that the upper part of Vincent's face was covered in what looked like a black shell.

"Wanna try again?"

The gunman dropped his weapon and ran screaming, ironically for the police, his would-be victim running right next to him. Immediately, Vincent began to hear more sirens, growing louder this time. He sighed as his carbon armor vanished. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Guess I won't be getting those comics, after all." With that, he turned on his heel and ran.

Young Justice

Location: Kobra Base, Everglades, Florida

---

Vincent's fist was about to make contact when he suddenly felt a powerful force pull him back down to the ground. He landed in the mud on all fours as the ground around him cratered slightly from the force pushing him down. "The...hell...is this?!" he muttered as he lifted his head to look at the floating man, feeling as though he had weights strapped to his head. From the one time he fought a telekinetic in the ring, Vincent thought that his current opponent's power felt similar, but something about it was off. Rather than affecting him directly, it felt like the man was influencing the space around him. Carbon spread around his body as he reinforced himself and used his power to rise to his feet. "This is...annoying," he grumbled before he threw himself to the side, outside of his opponent's influence.

The relief he felt was immediate, but he didn't have time to enjoy it. He shot forward as another crater appeared in the mud where he had been standing. He glanced in Daphne's direction to find that his spear had done nothing to take out the glowing orb and regretted putting all of his steel into it, as it reduced his available options. He circled around the man, doing his best to flank him from the right, then leapt again, only to be sent flying again. He turned in midair and landed feet-first into a tree, the bark splintering underneath him. Vincent threw himself toward the ground, out of the influence of the man's power just as the tree snapped, and sped forward once more.

This time, he positioned himself directly underneath the man and shot straight up, as he figured that the bald man wouldn't be able to use his power if Vincent were directly underneath. However, he wasn't able to get in close enough to strike before he was sent back to the ground, this time on his back. He sank into the mud as he felt an invisible weight press down on him. He tried to lift his head, but the weight suddenly increased, sending him further into the mud as the bald man slowly descended with a chuckle. "It was amusing at first, but I've had quite enough of you darting around," he said as Vincent felt the pressure increase once more. "I'll finish you off, then take care of your friend in the clouds."

As the man held his hand out toward Vincent and the weight on top of him began to steadily increase, he felt his ribs began to strain as breathing became harder and harder. Trapped underneath an invisible force, unable to do anything despite his best attempts as flashbacks from the harbor and his childhood assaulted his mind all over again, Vincent felt frustration and anger sweep over him.

Then came a familiar, unforgettable sense of pressure in his head as he felt his implant begin to whir on his back...

The Misfit Crew(The Actual RP, 2)

Yeah, I agree. That'd be easiest for everyone, I feel