Real Name: Kamala Khan Age: 17 Gender: Female Powers, Abilities, and Gear:Polymorphism - a more science-y way of saying shapeshifting. Kamala can grow (and shrink!) parts of her body at will. She can also physically change her appearance to that of pretty much any other person, and rapidly recover from otherwise fatal wounds by shifting back to the not-hurt version of herself. She can't shift again until she's done healing, however, and the healing can take a hell of a lot out of her.
Also, an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) can fuck her shit up pretty good.
Biokinectic burkini + bangles - her suit shifts with her, and her cute lil wrist gauntlet can hold a cell phone and some Motrin.
Until she was sixteen, Kamala Khan was as normal as any nerdy Desi girl could get. Her parents were a little strict, her devoutly Muslim older brother was a lot strict. But she got by, plenty content to write Tony Stark/Captain America slash and imagine what she would get signed first if she ever met her hero, Captain Marvel.
Before that could happen, however, Kamala got caught in a haze of Weird Fog™ and woke up...as Carol Danvers.
What actually happened, she would later uncover (with the help of her semi-genius BFF Bruno), was that the Weird Fog™ or Terrigen Mist had "activated" her Inhuman genes. Almost from the beginning, Kamala was totally onboard with being a superhero, finding dozens of tiny ways to "give back" to her quiet Jersey City community, imagining climbing the ranks of heroism until she could one day fight alongside Captain Marvel, going so far as to give herself the 'Ms. Marvel' moniker out of respect.
And then came the fateful day when her dream came true, and Kamala found herself waking to a reality that was far more gray than black and white.
When it was discovered that a classmate (and friend of Bruno's) was intending to test a very dangerous experiment in the heart of NYC, Kamala came face to face with Danvers...only to realize that Captain Marvel meant to turn in this classmate well before any crime had been committed. What seemed like a preemptive strike to Captain Marvel felt an awful lot like profiling to a post-9/11 Pakistani girl living just outside of New York City.
Kamala didn't turn in her classmate, but someone did. Two days after he was taken into custody, he was found dead in his courthouse jail cell. Captain Marvel insisted the tragedy had come at the cost of a dozen innocents saved (or vice versa). But Kamala could only feel responsible for the one. And as much as she tried not to blame her hero, she couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if the other woman had never been there. She never thought to question why someone like Captain Marvel had been there in the first place.
Ms. Marvel couldn't find it in herself to give up the fight she'd started, but she couldn't help but notice everything felt different after that. Victories seemed darker, heavier. Who was she fighting, and why? Could she call herself a hero anymore? Had she ever really been one? Did she want to be one now?
Meanwhile, Bruno, who had also been close with the dead student, had gone off to study at the Tony Stark Institute of Whatever the Fuck (named facetiously). Kamala, feeling the need to stick closer to home, at least until she figured things out, opted for a community college in Queens. It's been a good place to watch the street vigilante movement come into its own, and while she hasn't been able to help getting swept up, she finds she's questioning the morals of everyone around her just a little bit more every day. Who said the weirdos with the masks get to decide who the bad guys are?
High Concept: Look, I'm all about this push to bring a new generation of young women into the comics fold. But I'm also not 12, and have little to no interest in the woes of high school. I adore Kamala & co, and I'm ready to see them out in the world. NYC is, in theory, a little grittier than Kamala's Jersey City. I wanna know what she does about it.
Also, her origin story has always felt a little vague to me. I think I'd like to explore that some.
Motivation and Conflict: Harboring a post CWII-esque sense of disillusionment with many a masked crusader, Kamala is on a path for self-discovery. Consciously, she's in training of the ethical variety -- achieving that level of hero-dom (and Adulting®) that somehow magically instills her with the unyielding sense of Right And Wrong everyone else seems to have.
Subconsciously, she's looking for a mentor. And feeling both desperate and a little raw.
Notes: Alright, so I've taken some events out of context and written out the consequences of others that haven't happened yet. Andy, lemme know if I'm way off track. I'm p solid at editing.
CWII -- didn't happen (I assume?), but the much-lauded falling out between Carol & Kamala did. I've written a highly minified version of it with the intentions of keeping Captain Marvel mostly out of the way. Carol is now off somewhere Captain-ing, I guess. She can exist in just about any iteration, so long as Kamala feels cheated/abandoned/generally besmirched by her.
BFF Bruno is also MIA. Not necessarily in Wakanda, but not necessarily not in Wakanda. He's definitely not in JC, though, and his current activities may be a bit shifty. HYDRA-level shifty.
In general, Kamala is feeling pretty wary of any masked hero, herself included.
Bruno Carrelli: Kamala's genius longtime BFF and the one who helped her get a handle on her powers. He made the prototype of her suit, but also sort of resents her for (indirectly) getting his friend and science partner killed.
Josh Williams (deceased): former mad-scientist-in-training. A few months before his untimely suicide, he got reeeeeal reclusive. Also somehow got his hands on some really expensive materials for a high school kid from Jersey.
The Khans: Yusuf (father), Muneeba (mother), Aamir (brother)
Player Name: Dot!
Preferred Contact Method: idk try shouting. Or PM, I guess. I can be shamed into using Discord, should the need arise.
Why This Character?: IMO, Kamala has a solid, if somewhat underrated couple of arcs, and like every woman of color ever, has to work twice as hard for half her due. I firmly believe she can hack it recast in a grittier, NYC-street light.
Also, I keep meaning to pick up Champions, and then getting distracted. This is like a cheaper way to meet that need.
What Can You Bring to the RPG?:Optimism. Tense and uncomfortable silences?
It was always jarring to catch sight of her own reflection in the curve of a bedpan or a dirty window, let alone a real mirror. The basement underneath the doctor's office where she had spent the majority of the last nine years hadn't had one. She'd asked for it to be removed after the doctor had taken her first child from her, and when little Chloè had complained, she'd shattered it instead. Strangely, the guilt from one incident - intentionally taking from her sister that small comfort - far outweighed what little she had allowed herself to feel over the child. It had been the worst that first time. Each time after that she felt less and less.
There was no help for any of it now, though, not the dark memories from the occupation, nor the dark nights that had proceeded it. Least of all the harshness of her own reflection staring at her from a different plane. Most of her flame red hair was tucked carefully beneath her stark white nurse's cap, though of course there was that ever present rebellious coil that dangled into hard green eyes. Everything about her screamed no-nonsense, the sort of cool professionalism that came of having grown up first beneath a doctor's office, then any number of hospital rooms. She had been head nurse now for only a few short months, but the assignment had felt more natural to her than anything had since the night her parents had died.
Turning now away from the mirror, the young nurse tucked that single wisp of whimsy back behind her ear and made her way down the hall to begin her rounds. Two girls had reported in sick again this evening, and she herself was now beginning her third shift, putting her at eighteen hours on her feet and nearly twenty-four without sleep, though simple matters of fatigue had ceased to bother her long ago. At some point, she would have to take responsibility for her own exhaustion, but in her mind, her duty to the men under her purview far outweighed the mere necessity of rest.
She had made it past just two rooms, one empty (and unmade - she would have to tell the new girl, Renée, she needed to keep up with her empty beds just as much as her full ones), the other dark and silent, when a quiet moan issued from the third. The nurse stopped short, green eyes flitting down to the clipboard in her unscarred hand, but the young man's name was not there. She had the doctor's notes, of course, and while they provided her with enough information to spark her own nurse's intuition as to what the moan meant, she'd long since discovered soldiers as young as these liked to hear their own names, or at least their own language first.
She scanned the list again, looking for the nurse assigned to him, knowing she needed to finish her own rounds, and came up empty. It was late, and most of the men were sleeping. She could not imagine there would be any great emergency if the others were made to wait. In the meantime, this young man was alone and in pain, and she had never been the type to let things lie when she knew there were things she could do.
She disappeared briefly back down the hall and returned a moment later with a silver tray - this own obscuring her own reflection with a syringe and a small, dark bottle. Her ministrations were quick and clean and it was only when she finished that she was able to offer a smile that was surprisingly sincere for a woman with eyes as hard as hers.
"Hello," she said quietly. "Do you know where you are?"
That last post was absolutely brilliant, Justric! Sorry for the wait. Now that RPG is roughly back on track, wifi at home is down. *sigh* I hope to have something up by the end of the weekend, even if it means packing up shop and heading to a cafe downtown. Happy holidays!
Deli gaped at Mike for a painfully long moment, instinct alone keeping her from dropping her smuggled stash of gummy bears as a flush comparable to sunburn crept from her neck and up into her hairline.
"I...uh...no, I -- "
And then Pauline, her new and very best friend Pauline, rescued her with about the only other thing that could have pulled Deli's attention at the moment. She perked at the mention of the rockets in the hangar -- she'd planned on taking all day tomorrow (with her mother's old MP3 player and six hours worth of Celine Dion) to catalog what they had aboard, her own knowledge of, ahem, assembly excluded. All at once, the dumbstruck civilian was gone, replaced by a demolitionist only a few would recognize, for better or for worse...albeit a more...passionate demolitionist than most.
"Guay!" Deli explained, leaning over Pauline's tablet so suddenly, it was a wonder she didn't break the poor girl's nose. "Sorry!" she added quickly, meeting blue eyes with her green for the briefest second before returning all her attention to the screen the other had procured. "Is that a -- " she started again, then stepped back as a technicolor projection turned her hair, face, and shoulders into a slow-spinning cosmos.
"Guay," she whispered again, too reverent to even realize she was speaking. She watched in quiet, earnest fascination, apparently speechless for the first time all day, as the candy splintered like stain glass, tumbling away into the darkness. When it was done, Deli was still gaping, all wide-eyed and stunned in silence that went well-beyond appreciative, straight into worship...but the newfound glee had nothing (or almost nothing) to do with Army Astronaut Mike.
She resisted the very, very strong urge to throw her arms around Pauline.
"You made that?" she demanded, incredulous. "Just now? With the VT? And the candy? Can you do more? Like the old GBU beta models and...and...and that tank thing Astronaut Mike was talking about? Can you change the atmospheric conditions, too? Or use unstable explosives? Not on purpose, of course, just...y'know, worse case scenario. My dad told me once they started developing those plastic casings at the turn of the century because old low explosive devices were all based on charcoal and potassium nitrate, if you can believe that. I dunno why anyone would use anything so basically nonreactive, I mean people use to eat that stuff -- "
She realized she was rambling and straightened abruptly in what would have been a decidedly self-conscious movement in anyone else. Mildly embarrassed, but still too excited to care, she offered a sheepish smile to both Pauline and Mike, before tilting her head inquisitively at the latter.
"So...Mike," she began tentatively, though much less so than pre-gummy-bear-explosion, "what do you do here? And how do you guys already know each other?"
Well all of it is very much deserved Heroes, a most excellent move with that last post ;) And Dot though I missed saying it before, Deli is just absolutely adorable!I know I should write tonight, but so sorry, just really tired and have to be up at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning, so I'll be writing for Abby and Devi tomorrow
Thanks, Grainy! Pauline is very easy to play off.
And also I just wanted to drop by and say hello, because I feel like it's been a while, so I thought I'd remind you all how very thrilled I am to be playing along with you. I love brilliance. It is the best of things. =D