Daxam

The Misfit Crew

Seconded!

The Misfit Crew

Hmm...What will your intro post be like? Will there be conflict with government agents right off the bat or will it just be the group driving down the road?

Just kinda hard to say one way or the other if I don't know the context, personally

The Misfit Crew

It's fantastic lol

The Misfit Crew

@Hyyde322 I apologize in advance for all the worrying Vincent will make Audrey do lol

The Misfit Crew

I'm nothing if not patient lol

The Misfit Crew

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."

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 government raided the Ryder home after receiving an anonymous tip. The Ryders fought back with everything they had, but were no match for the organization and numbers the government 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 government 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.

The Misfit Crew

Oops

Young Justice

Vincent Ryder

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Talos

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| NAME |

Vincent Ryder

| AGE |

18

| MENTOR |

Nightwing

| DESIGNATION |

Y17

| APPEARANCE |

Vincent stands at an even 6'0" and has a well-built and toned physique. His jet-black hair reaches down to his shoulders and his eyes are a steely gray color. His right arm is covered in a series of tattoos and if asked if why he decided on the particular pattern, Vincent would answer with a shrug and reply, "'Cause it looked cool." He also has a scar that cuts diagonally through his eyebrow, just barely missing the corner of his eye.

His hero suit consists of a black bodysuit with a steel breastplate, bracers, and greaves to ensure that he always has a supply of carbon-rich steel on hand for when he has to take on missions in rural areas.

His civilian clothes usually consist of a black shirt, usually a t-shirt or sleeveless, a black overcoat, blue jeans, and boots.

| BIO |

Vincent's first experience with violence was when he was twelve, when his parents had been killed in a robbery gone wrong. Without any other relatives, he was put in foster care and given to a couple who, once behind closed doors, had quickly made it clear they only accepted him as a means to some easy cash from the government. He was given food, a roof over his head, and clothes in the form of hand-me-downs, but neither his foster parents or their children ever made him feel welcome.

Then, one day, everything changed. It was some time after his thirteenth birthday and his foster siblings were being particularly unpleasant toward him, having cornered him in the kitchen while their parents were outside. Vincent had tried to keep a calm head like his own parents had taught him, something he had struggled with for all his life, but one of his cousins told him his parents had died just to get away from him. Vincent felt something inside of him snap just as drawers and cupboards flew open. Knives, forks, spoons, even pots and pans began to fly around the room in a vortex with Vincent at its center. When he realized what was happening, what *he* was doing, the the metallic maelstrom came to a stop and everything fell to the floor.

His foster siblings had managed to run outside, suffering only minor cuts and bruises, but Vincent felt a cold stone of fear form in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea what he had done or how he had done it, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he had to leave. By the time the parents stormed into the house, furious and terrified of what this child might do next, Vincent had already raced out of the front door with nothing but the clothes on his back and the shoes he had hurriedly put on.

He spent a long time on the streets, avoiding police for fear that they would send him back to his foster family since he was still a minor. After he spent some time hopping from one city to another, he eventually found his way to the city of Bludhaven. He had been on his own for a year and a half, at this point, practicing his powers in secret whenever he could, when he heard talk of an underground fighting venue for those with powers, where one could earn some money. Before he knew it, he found himself not only taking part, but realizing he had a gift for combat. And that he liked it.

For the next three and a half years, Vincent reigned as the underground's champion. The countless fights he had taken part in honed his abilities even further and, with the help of an old mentor, he gradually came into his own, adopting a varied, improvised fighting style that incorporated what he learned from his mentor and his own instincts. However, it was during one particularly difficult fight that he once again lost everything.

Nightwing had interrupted Vincent's grief, having heard rumors of the fight club and decided to bring an end to it. The people who could still move had already fled, all except Vincent. Fueled by rage over being unable to stop what happened, he attacked Nightwing.

Despite his natural talent, the skills he had honed during his time fighting, and even his powers, Nightwing had soundly beaten him. He must have seen something in Vincent, though, because as the young man waited to be hauled into jail, Nightwing extended an offer, instead, saying he knew of a group that could use someone like Vincent. With nothing left to lose, Vincent accepted. Months later, now equipped with a specialized spinal implant, he joined the Young Justice Initiative.

| ABILITIES / SKILLS / EQUIPMENT |

-Vincent's power is twofold: ferrokinesis and carbon manipulation. Once thought only capable of manipulating steel, Vincent had discovered, mostly by accident, that he can separate the iron and carbon from steel objects and directly manipulate those, as well. While the carbon he controls only appears as a black mist, he's able to freely change the shape and state of iron, making it solid one moment and liquid the next.

-While he might seem to be little more than an average meathead eager to jump into a fight (to be fair, he mostly is), Vincent can be creative when it comes to using his powers, such as changing the structure of the carbon in his own body to give himself a sort of dermal armor in a pinch or creating flying weapons out of iron or steel.

-If he needs more carbon, he's capable of separating it from the carbon dioxide always present in the air.

-Due to the abundance of steel and carbon-based pollution, it goes without saying that Vincent's power shines in urban environments. With enough time and development, he could become a force of nature.

-Stymphalian. Is the name of the spinal implant created out of a ferrous alloy, mixed with experimental technology. It's fused to Vincent's back. It can expand into a pair of steel wings, but Vincent can bend it into anything he needs.

| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES |

-While he can augment his physical abilities by directly controlling the steel wrapped around his body, Vincent is only a bit more durable than the average human. He can take a beating, but he won't survive an unaided fall from ten stories. (That's what the wings are for)

-The range of his powers is currently limited to a sphere which surrounds him. It expands outwards to about six or seven feet.

-He's a 'jump first, think never' kind of person.

-Having spent so long on his own, he doesn't understand the concept of 'teamwork.'

| NOTES |

-Vincent is a surprisingly good cook. Having lived on his own for so long, it was a skill he had no choice but to develop, only to surprise himself by how much he enjoyed it.

-Vincent is ambidextrous

-He loves dogs to the point where a different side of him will emerge if he's in close proximity to one.

The Misfit Crew ~ Interest Check

Yeah, I think I'm ready for the OOC, too!

The Misfit Crew ~ Interest Check

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."

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 government raided the Ryder home after receiving an anonymous tip. The Ryders fought back with everything they had, but were no match for the organization and numbers the government 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 government 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.