FamishedPants

March of the White Rabbit: A Roll-Your-Own Magical Girl Roleplay

Do I get a present for being first?

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"All in favor of YEET?"

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze None][Zilch (0)] = -0 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 750

There was a unique surreality to watching a devious entity nonchalantly flip through the pages of a book while the van carried them to their destination, but that is what Silhouette's fellow agents had to witness during their trip.

He had opted to remain silent as he took in the contents of his book which, if anyone bothered to look at the cover, was a cheap horror novel that he had been partway through reading before this drive. Periodically, he would set down the novel and jot some notes down in a notebook, then pick back up where he left off, almost like a student taking notes rather than a person reading for pleasure.

It was Binky's voice that finally prompted him to put the book away rather than the bump the van ran over. He glanced up and paid her his full attention, listening intently to the quick recap of their briefing and then to Valkyrie's opinion on their course of action. He presented his own after.

"While I wholeheartedly loathe the idea to trust my own wellbeing, as well as those of my fellow G.E.M.I.N.I agents, to a blood mage encountered during our last operation... I find that it is the more preferable alternative to engaging with Maverick espers when they are not even our target. Each breath, melody, and second spent on them is a precious waste of resources." Sil points out, his words spoken in a cool, neutral tone. "The prudent choice, in my opinion, is to take the bold, direct approach and carve that path as swiftly as we may. I agree with fellow agent Valkyrie. As for questions, I have but one clarification: Are we to attempt to assist with Justin, or would we just be potential burdens? You are typically a contingency rather than a dependency for missions you are involved with, so I would like to make absolutely certain how we should approach that part of the mission."

The Status Bar

The 'drama' that goes on in the status bar honestly doesn't seem serious enough to warrant any significant action to be taken against it. You can always first try the more reasonable solution of 'just moderate better LMAO' if it does become serious enough. In this case, I do think the status bar makes the site feel more alive. While I often do not participate in it, I do not want to see it removed for what is essentially some baby-tier trolling.

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l | T h e F r i t z

"Mediocre collab headers are my speciality."
"Yeah, I see that."

— Sam & The Fritz

Status

Mission Accomplished.

With the police precinct swept and cleared of all danger and the hostages tended to, one might not be blamed for thinking that Samuel was finally finished with his work, but that simply wasn't the case. In fact, truth be told, he considered the next part to be equal to the raid in terms of mental strain.

He needed to meet with his boss and debrief.

Samuel set off and left the police precinct behind him, but not before ducking into a room and discarding his shadow-borne demonic visage and returning to his mundane human form.

There was a really specific reason for this. It wasn't that Samuel had read and memorized G.E.M.I.N.I's dress code and found that his demonic form did not adhere to the standards set by them, despite basing part of its appearance on his actual clothing. Or that he worried he might cause unnecessary panic or offense. No, it was far more personal than that.

My arm sure hurts! Being shot is quite an unpleasant feeling. Though I suppose not feeling it would have its unfavorable implications. Thank goodness I can change form to recover!

Samuel carried onward without any incident, passing by a now-defunct racecar-themed diner and approaching a local grocery store, following the sidewalk despite there being no risk of traffic currently and walking at a normal pace. He even checked his email and made a quick call to an acquaintance that had rung him at some point during the operation.

Eventually, the man reached his destination: the office of Dr. Fritzi Moller, situated somewhere beneath the aforementioned grocery store. Samuel's arrival was prompt but it was not familiarity that he owed for this. This would be his first time seeing the office situation in Pax Septimus and though his expression hid any ounce of it, well, he was a bit eager to see what it was like.

With a light rap of his knuckles on the side of the door, he announced his presence to the woman who he hoped was inside.

”Come in.”

With Fritzi’s permission, Samuel opened the door and invited himself inside. This was not the first time he had stepped into one of Fritzi’s offices. Little of what he saw would surprise him.

Fritzi had always stated how much she hated clutter and preferred to have the essentials and little else. The office was the same shade of white that they used in hospitals, illuminated by fluorescent lights. Her desk was a white rectangle, but it was far too glossy to be wood. Perhaps it was made out of plexiglass or some other synthetic material. The computer setup was pretty minimalist too, with only the keyboard and monitor visible. There didn’t seem to be any wires, but they were likely fed through the desk itself. There was a bookshelf on the back wall, but it was empty. Unlike the filing cabinets on either side which Fritzi seemed to be in the process of filling. But while Fritzi claimed to hate clutter, she did have a lot of things most people would consider frivolous. The top layer of her desk was transparent, and let multicolored lights shine through. They were displaying an animation of a pixel art spaceship firing on alien invaders. The ceiling also had a few model plains hung up here and there. Some of the planes were from the early years of flight while others were more modern or fantastical. There were sculptures of chemical compounds in bold colors that stood out against the pure white wall. There were also a few movie posters, everything from space operas, to frontier adventures, and even one for a magical girl anime. Otherwise, yea, Fritzi didn’t enjoy frills too much.

”A lot of this was already here.” She said, despite Samuel remembering almost everything from her old office. ”Saves me from having to unpack. So, you have something for me?”

Samuel took in the view without uttering a word or changing expression, but he was comparing it to the office that resided in his mind. It was so... full, or that's what Samuel thought despite the room projecting the ‘minimalist’ vibe of its owner's preference. But you could gleam snippets of the person behind the room, albeit only a bit, through what little inhabited it.

The room still has the same feeling as the last one, even if they're completely different.

The man offered a courteous smile and did not show any skepticism towards Fritzi's excuse. He gave a slight nod to her question and then replied without further delay. "A detailed recollection of the events that transpired within the police precinct to the best of my ability from the moment I finished clearing the perimeter of hostile chaotic elements, to the moment cleanup of the precinct had concluded. Also, there was a certain observation I had towards the end that I wished to bring to your attention, though I admit it could simply be trivial."

Fritzi would find Samuel to stay true to his word as he recounted the events that happened and concluded not long ago. She didn’t have to try hard to paint a vivid picture in her mind of what happened from his descriptions which left little unsaid. It pointed to quite the memory and attention to detail, at least. "...but mainly, there was a pair of bite marks on the back of King Cobra's neck that I couldn't help but associate with a vampire. Combined with his elongated cuspids and feral bite attempt preceding his demise, I am unable to ignore it."

”It’s an interesting detail, isn’t it?” Fritzi leaned forward in her seat. ”But if he had bite marks, that makes him a thrall. Real vampires can’t make more vampires, instead, they make weaker versions of themselves that they can fully control. The bulk of the blood they drink they return to their master.” Fritzi started typing on her keyboard. ”Shimr has a few vampire-related requests too, Hard to say if they’re true vampires or thralls yet, as even espers tend to confuse the two. Binky also overheard some espers mention vampires. Something about a violinist getting enthralled by a vampire named Justin. We have a bit of intel on Justin von Carnage, however…” She looked at Samuel. ”Like I told Binky, It’s a little early to pin this all on a big bad like that.” She looked at Sam’s legs. ”Next time you’re in here, I’ll have chairs. What’s it been, hours since we set up?”

Samuel politely smiled. “Only a few,” he answered, not bothering to retrieve his phone or look for a clock, leading one to believe he had already checked before entering the room. He continued, touching back on the subject of vampires momentarily. “But not too long. I imagine I’ll spend more time studying whatever material we might have on vampires if only to separate known fact from fiction.” He seemed to consider saying more on the subject, but ultimately refrained. He then leaned ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. “In any case, it’s probably for the best. Truth be told, I am unlikely to want to stand again for some time if I let myself relax now.”

”I guess that’s true.” She agreed. ”As for vampires, there’s not a lot we really know. You can forget about most of the obscure details about them. Spreading mustard seed on your roof, refusing to extend them an invitation, things like that don’t work on them. The last vampire we found did take special care to kill. Unless you destroy its heart, it’ll keep on coming. Even a decapitation won’t end them, but you might find some amusement as they try to chase down their head and reattach it.” She tapped a single button on her keyboard. ”I pretty much covered everything, but I’ve sent you all of our documentation, including footage of our tests. Best not to watch those in public, they’re pretty gruesome. Unless your date is into horror movies? Regardless, their arcane abilities are as varied as an espers, and we don’t yet know all of what Justin von Carnage can do.”

After the business side of the discussion was taken care of, Fritzi folded her hands together. ”You could hit the books right now, however...” The corners of her lips curled into a smile. ”I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, you know, spar a bit with me?”

Veronica's words gave Samuel pause and his smile dropped. "Today was quite eventful," he responded, slightly altering his stance to lean on a different part of his feet. "...life-threatening situations do take a lot out of you, and that's not counting the notes I used during them..." his tone seems to suggest that he is going to decline but his eyes, briefly, lock on to Fritzi's smile before closing, taking a drawn-out breath.

When he was done, his courteous smile reappeared and his opened eyes seemed to convey his acceptance. "...though I suppose that is all the more reason to try to improve. And I don't think I've quite earned my rest, anyhow."

”Wonderful!” Fritzi clapped her hands together. ”Right this way!”

…

…

…

The arena Fritzi chose as their sparring ground was not much larger than her office. It was worn out but had also been touched by Fritzi’s sense of whimsy. Plastered right over the peeling walls were more movie posters, including a horror one featuring a hospital that towered into the sky. But the appearance of the small room hardly mattered, as the two combatants were locked in a fight neither wanted to lose.

A table sat between them, but that stopped neither one from brandishing their weapons. They took turns swinging at each other, each warrior wanting nothing more than to deal a decisive blow to the other one. They maneuvered around the table to try and get a shot in, but both were maintaining a pretty good defense. Then out of the blue, Fritzi raised her weapon over her head and stepped away from the table. With a savage swing, she delivered a strike that was sure to end the match. But her aim was off, and her attack ended up hitting a small net on the table. It wasn’t very big, but it reversed her attack, causing her to lose the round.

The ping pong ball bounced off the table and landed in Fritzi’s open hand. ”Your point I guess, not that we’re keeping score.” She spun the paddle in her hand before tossing the ball to Samuel ”But if we were, you’d have some serious catching up to do.”

Samuel’s labored breathing indicated he had been getting quite into the match, which made Veronica’s statement all the more depressing. “...the match would be over if we had been. Seventeen to five. It was different when I was younger, but nowadays, games are played to eleven points.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Admittedly, my pride has taken a resounding blow. Granted it was mostly the version that involved alcohol played with coworkers every now and then, but I usually was one of the better players. I don’t think people would get that impression were they to watch this…”

Fritzi was elated by Samuel’s story. ”Oh! Do you fancy yourself a drunken boxer then?”

“No,” he shook his head, chuckling at the idea and lying with ease that rivaled his autonomic breathing. But that didn’t stop her from moving.

Fritzi walked over to one of the framed posters on the wall, looked at Samuel, and then raised a finger to her lips. She used her free hand to tip the poster out of the way, revealing a small safe. With her paddle still in her hand, she used the tip of her finger to turn a dial back and forth until the safe opened. She opened the door, pulled out a bottle, and used her hip to swing it shut. Then she came back to the ping pong table and set the bottle in front of Sam. ”One of the pros to working under a grocery store is that this stuff is pretty easy to come by. I’m thinking about getting the safe removed and installing a fridge in its place.”

He watched with curiosity as Veronica retrieved a bottle of beer and placed it before him. Strangely, he didn’t seem very surprised that it’s was there and twisted the top off easily. “My former boss did something very similar and said he got the idea from his old boss,” Sam replied, taking a reserved sip. “To keep their lunch fresh, and their water bottles cold, of course.”

”Former boss? I don’t think you’ve told me about him.” Fritzi raised an eyebrow. ”Or her?”

“...from my former occupation as staff manager at the company I was affiliated with up until the incident that introduced me to the magical side of the world? He was quite flippant, but never gave people reason to doubt his skills,” Sam explained. “Also seemed to hold me in high regard, so my sudden resignation was quite the shock to him, I’m sure. But I can’t commit myself to a job like that AND my duty as a member of G.E.M.I.N.I, so…” He seemed to have put a good deal of thought into the subject. “...I’m sure when and if my time with G.E.M.I.N.I comes to a close, my next employer will find the drastic shift quite interesting.”

”Good to know you don’t plan on entering retirement.”

“Not until I have to. If I even need to.” Samuel looked at the bottle for a moment, then took a drink. “An Esper with a butler aesthetic tried to take my life today. This occupation comes with… unique hazards.”

Fritzi barely had time to smile before the two were distracted by a buzzing sound. It was Fritzi’s tablet, which was vibrating under her coat. ”I thought the whole point of ‘vibrate’ was that it wasn’t supposed to make noise.” She hoisted her tablet out of her lab coat and scrolled a bit. ”But I suppose we can’t be too picky when fate throws us a bone.” She set the tablet down on the end of the table beside the bottle of beer. It was a page on Shimr discussing some footage that had been recorded by security cameras at the Great Escape. There in plain view was Justin Von Carnage trouncing around like he owned the place. ”Pretty ballsy for him to show up at one of the freelancer’s ‘outposts.’ What do you make of this?” Sam had only known Fritzi for his short time working with G.E.M.I.N.I., but he knew she was already coming to her own conclusion.

Samuel ponders the question for a minute. “Either a blessing or a curse,” he would say, but his expression betrays that he doesn’t think it’s positive in the least. “How much are you willing to stake on him being fatally arrogant?”

”His arrogance isn’t unjustified.” Fritzi looked back at the video. ”Until recently the Iron Queen ensured esper resistance in the area was crushed under her heel. It’s only natural for a few people to become complacent in her absence. Though he’s also fairly strong, even by the standards of a vampire. He could have grown accustomed to going where he pleased. Or, we have some pretender on our hands.”

"I'll pity him if he's just someone playing pretend. He's clearly ignorant of what that entails, and it's not going to end well for him,"

She tapped her finger against her arm. ”I’m sorry, you mentioned an esper that looked like a butler? What exactly do you remember about them?”

"In hindsight, I should have immediately identified them as an Esper. My lesser experience in these tense situations could've cost us everything..." He lamented his oversight but didn't let it trip him up for long. "Anyway, appearance-wise, he was an older gentleman who, as I've said, looked like a butler or waiter from the clothes he was wearing. His attitude matched, too. Even in that chaotic battle, he saw it fit to introduce himself as 'Servant Sofron'."

Samuel mimicked the action of pointing his hand at Veronica as though he was going to fire a note. "A single melody from him drastically changed the momentum we had gained in battle up to that point. He set the hallway we were in ablaze, and more than that, it hindered my own ability to conjure up retaliation." His voice suggested a mixture of awe and a smidge of terror, ironically. "There is no doubt in my mind that he was the strongest individual in that building out of the ones I encountered, at least in terms of magical talent."

”That sounds a lot like Baleful Sofron.” Fritzi eyed the tip of Samuel’s finger. ”He doesn’t exclusively work for Justin, but he has worked with him in the past on numerous occasions. I’m almost a hundred percent sure he was there to oversee Cobra Gang’s success. Justin Von Carnage is becoming an attractive target.” She flicked her eyes up to Sam and grinned. ”I dont think your time reading up on vampires will be wasted.”

Samuel took one last look at the 'vampire', then shrugged. "Either way, yes, I'm sure I'll get mileage out of this knowledge. I didn't notice bite marks on anyone else in the precinct, and I don't believe they suddenly became a fad… not that I keep up with those, mind you.”

He stood up straight, clenching a determined fist. "It's just another problem to be dealt with, in any case. With proper preparation, we'll inevitably cross that check off the list."

”If thralls keep showing up, he’ll definitely be our next target.” She slipped the tablet back into her coat. ”The last operation went as well as could be expected, but I think G.E.M.I.N.I. needs to prove it can stand without the help of the freelancers.” She fret her brow. ”Did you see them? They had the audacity to expect on-site catering? No wonder Pax Septimus is the way it is.” With a sigh, she tipped her head. ”Though I guess it’s understandable. We just happened to show up days after Penny was declared missing. It probably looks like we were afraid of her. All the more reason to show everyone we’re worth their tax dollars.”

“The operation would not have proceeded half as smoothly without Freelancer aid, which is something I loathe to see.” At some point, Samuel managed to drink half the beer. He looked at the drained bottle with pensive eyes. “Outsourcing has its uses, of course, but being reliant upon it does G.E.M.I.N.I no favors. The moment there’s a lull in payment, we’ll see those very same Freelancers beside Maverick, most assuredly.” Samuel’s tone does little to hide his dislike for either of the other factions, but with prior conversations in mind, Veronica would likely have gathered that he particularly disliked Freelancers.

He remains silent for a few moments, then speaks as though the edge in his tone never occurred.. “On my end, I suppose I will work towards becoming a better asset for G.E.M.I.N.I, so that there is less pressure for outsourcing.”

The doctor’s lips curled into a smirk. ”Then we are going to need to spar more to get you back into shape.” Fritzi picked up the bottle, only to stop when she realized how light it was. Her eyes looked down at the bottle. ”Hmmm, I wonder if they make refrigerated safes.”

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"Izurich smelly"

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze None][Zilch (0)] = -0 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 478

The ever-grinning face of Samuel's Esper form turned its attention towards the corpse of the felled snake, giving in to the urge to wipe the splat of blood that landed on his face when he plunged his blade into the said man's neck with his knuckles. He also chose to give a quick flick of his blade to rid its blade of any excess on it before studying the body with a bit more intensity, but only after glancing around to make doubly sure he wasn't going to get shot for doing so.

"Are those... bite marks?" he wondered aloud, examining it closely, but quite obviously avoiding touching the deceased being like it was tainted.

If he didn't think it was prudent to do so, Samuel would prefer to avoid inspecting this man's corpse in any detail. He could calm his heart and mind for these fights, but his stomach for this sort of stuff was never the best. G.E.M.I.N.I training videos did ensure that he saw these things closely before having to interact with him, and it wasn't like today was the first time he'd taken a life, but it wasn't something he warmed up to, either.

Samuel would stand up straight, scrutinizing the group of Freelancers with what would've been an approving look had he the ability to convey more than a creepy smile. He did not have such an ability in Esper form, sadly. "Wonderful," he commented. "We certainly have not finished the mission yet, but I imagine with this man's departure, we've crossed the toughest hurdle." Samuel glances at the radio buzzing with the anxious worry of the thug's allies. "Their response leads me to believe we have routed the enemy. And, assuming our shirtless companion has not fallen, with zero casualties." Beneath the eery echoes, one could just make out his satisfaction in his voice.

Except the building, Samuel avoided adding, although if that bomb threat was genuine, the fact that they got away with a burned hall or two and an explosion wasn't too shabby. The building was fairly intact, so Sam doubted it would be considered a failure by any real means, so long as there weren't surprises in the cleanup. But before that, Samuel wanted to check up on the status of these Freelancers...

Thus, the tense feeling one might get when a devil was watching them was fleeting for most of the group, but the ice-favored Freelancer, Klava, was not so lucky. Samuel eyed the girl unabashedly, her charred form prompting his next line. "How so very capable you remain even in such terrible condition," he nods, then glances at his own injured arm. "I must admit I couldn't see myself doing half as well in the same situation. Splendid." It was now that Apollo showed up, flaunting a gun that was flamboyant enough to be called 'fitting' when wielded by him. It seemed he came out victorious. As thanks for his help, Samuel immediately pointed out a job he could be doing. Lucky him.

Once it became clear that Apollo was tending to Klava, he moved on to the Protector. He eyed the detonator in their hands with caution. "It is a shame he had that, otherwise we might have been able to take him alive, possibly. But we'll have to settle for an identifiable corpse instead." Unless the Freelancer was against it, Samuel would hold onto the detonator from that point on. He did not seem to want to linger for very long, clearly preferring the idea of a clean, fully-swept building to one with potential hostile surprises popping up later.

It would not take long for he and the rest to wind up crossing paths with the railgun-toting G.E.M.I.N.I agent, Valkyrie, which for a zeptosecond, caused him confusion. The sound of her rifle was hard to mistake so it's not like he was oblivious entirely, but he was unaware that she wasn't just firing from afar like earlier. She had quite obviously seen better days, so ignoring all else, he hastened to reach her and confirm her status. Of course, at the end of the day, he was cursed with abilities better suited towards killing and maiming instead of healing and supporting. Realizing as much, he would opt to escort her down to the lowest floor (particularly helping navigate a certain hole on the way) if she requested it. Even if they weren't too familiar with each other, Samuel did not seem to mind at all if he had come off weird, almost doting. He would, naturally, respect any wishes they had, though.

Samuel would not rest until each and every nook and cranny of the place had been cleansed of the thug taint. On cleanup, if anyone there managed to use their heads and surrender, then he wasn't going to mercilessly execute them and instead have them be apprehended while they eliminated anyone that still posed a threat without batting an eye. This cleanup seemed to prompt a more aggressive behavior from Samuel, likely intending on making up for being so reliant on the Freelancers as he had been. Or, so one might guess was the reason for his sudden lapse into proactivity. But with what the entirety of his group (and the others) had to have dealt with today, perhaps they might view his yearning for the action as a positive thing.

Once everything had been entirely cleared and the mission came to a complete close, he personally thanked each of the members who worked with him, including Apollo, once again and bid them well.

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"Death from above!"

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze Self][Intangible (4)] = -32 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 478

Y'knowWhatThisIs

In a familiar office sat a man three sizes too big for the chair beneath him as he waited patiently for the arrival of his boss. Most of his features were in a constant shift, never remaining one way for more than a couple of seconds at a time. Sometimes, he would have a sharp chin, wide mouth, and a soft nose, and others he would have round, chubby cheeks and huge ears, with a comically-small nose. There was a bit of consistency, however, in that each mouth seemed to be biting its lower lip and he was incredibly huge in stature. The man also never had a pair of eyes, but that didn't mean it was hard to find out what he was looking at -- he'd been focused on the door the entire time he was here. As if the person who walked through it would dictate the rest of his life.

And, well, they did.

The knob soon twisted and the door opened to reveal one tidily-dressed Samuel, holding a small stack of papers in one hand and a coffee in the other. He looks up, mild surprise taking over for a split second, only to smile wide.

"You're early!" He couldn't hide his approval if he tried. Samuel walked around the office chair the man sat on and over to his desk, where he set the papers down and promptly lost any and all interest in them. Instead of sitting at his own chair, Samuel took a seat on the edge of the desk nearest the man, sipping at his coffee one last time before addressing the huge man before him, now noticing the nervous look he was getting. "Oh, if you think I've called you up here for a bad reason... well, you're wrong! Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact!"

The eye-less man's posture slackened in apparently relief, but a tilt of his head made it obvious he was quite confused. "The opposite? You mean you want to praise me?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

Samuel nodded. "It is only natural, Protector," it suddenly becomes a bit difficult for Samuel to retain eye contact with Protector, but he pulls through. "And, I feel as though I must apologize."

The Protector remained silent, urging Samuel to continue.

"I won't try to butter my words up here: I expected nothing positive from you. Chaotic elements introduced into an orderly workplace like this... well, that just tends to be a recipe for disaster. I was wholly against the idea from the very beginning, and, well, I can assure you that one of your colleagues only reinforced that doubt with their conduct with the missing shirt and lockerroom behavior. But you are different. I see a hardworking, honest man who has not once failed to achieve what they are asked to do. If the tedious busywork you've been given has caused you no end of grief, you've done quite a good job of being polite enough to wait until I'm out of earshot to complain," Samuel gives a soft laugh. "This behavior should be commended and so it is, and you don't strike me as the sort to let praise go to your head," Samuel stands up and moves to the back of his desk, where he sits down in his chair, facing Protector. "That's really all there is to say, for now. Keep up the good work!"

It was difficult to say how they truly felt, but the Protector's evershifting mouths seemed to offer up a small smile, perhaps feeling validated that their hard work was being noticed. They stood up and opened the door, but before it shut behind them, they could just barely make out one final remark, Samuel had probably intended for his ears only.

"Now, if only that behavior could rub off on the other guy..."

Samuel delivered a swift, painless death to the foe before them with a cruel smile. Of course, this was not intentional, merely an inescapable expression he was forced into whenever he made use of this sick, twisted curse of his. It was sure to give off the impression that this bloodshed and carnage were joyous occasions to him. He didn't really feel that way, but he wasn't above using this to speed things up a little. If it made this dirty work a bit safer and a bit quicker, of course he would abuse it. To do otherwise would be inefficient.

And speaking of inefficient...

Running off to do your own things without properly communicating a plan and listening to the team leader... oh, I'm quite confident we won't have to pull some random employee in for those training videos anymore. Just give me a camera and I'll show you everything protocol warns us NOT to do.

Well, from what he could make out, before it became covered in tear gas, the Esper the thugs had wasn't wiping the floor with the freelancers. Perhaps a bit of spontanuity every now and then could prove helpful? Samuel had no problem with those two successfully killing such a potent threat, especially given the high-tier magic he was capable of using. Hell, his death could prove to be the blow to morale they need to force these thugs into a proper, real panic!

Now, what should he be doing?

Couldn't well leave everything to the freelancers. He had a job to do! It would be embarrassing to allow these chaotic elements to take center stage in a G.E.M.I.N.I operation. It would reflect badly upon him, the other agents, and it might even disappoint his boss -- something Samuel might prefer death to---

A loud noise caused by an explosion near them almost sent the injured Samuel tumbling down the stairs, something he only barely avoided doing moments ago. He was getting kinda tired of these stairs, honestly. As the loud ringing that assailed his ears subsided, he noticed the hole left before them.

That isn't going to please Doctor Moller... Not at all.

Samuel became irritated at the reckless destruction of property these criminals seemed so fond of. He thought about flinging a damaging spell right back into the hole, but his large barge of a friend decided to charge straight on in after a brief moment of preparing themself. Silhouette then decided to move to the edge of the hole in order to follow up on the protector -- a strategy that while repetitive, was quite effective up to this point so Sam had no qualms about abusing, only to notice that his armored ally was suffering some sort of mental attack.

To worry about such trivial things amid live combat... maybe I was thinking too highly of you.

Silhouette couldn't help but be disappointed at this behavior, ignoring moments ago when he was doing essentially the same thing. But who's gonna call him out for hypocrisy in his own mind? Nobody. Except me. Anyway, he looked up just in time to see a speeding Klava rush to their aid, though he could swear she had seen better days (or anything at all really). He couldn't say he felt confident leaving Apollo to deal with things by himself, but jumping through fire and tear gas just did not seem like the smartest plan, so he decided to assist the other two in helping clean up the people blowing holes out of the ground beneath him.

Sam inhaled and followed the icey woman down, though not through the hole they had made. Instead, listening to the voices beneath as best he could, he cast a specific note on himself once he was sure he could land on or nearby his target, Adder, by falling through the floor in an angle they wouldn't expect, hoping to surprise them with a blade to their neck or the most appropriate vital he could find. An extended fight with his wounded arm wouldn't be the best idea, though hopefully, Protector could regain their composure in time to assist if it had.

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"Teamwork makes the dream work."

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze Projectile][Pull (2)] = -20 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 510

The panicked reaction exhibited by the gangsters in response to their friend suffering a gruesome end was excellent and the desired outcome. Samuel hoped to make the most use of their foes' inexperience with Espers, though this much could likely be gathered by his approach up to this point. But he couldn't blame these men for wanting to flee from the unknown, not when he did very much the same that fateful night. He didn't consider fighting that monster until there was nowhere left for him to run.

So the fact that two goons and what appeared to be a butler were able to regain their composure and stand firm against their advance was, well, somewhat admirable by Samuel's standards. At least, it would be if it wasn't simply a suicide option. Because this merely meant they were still obstacles in the way of Samuel's objective, and they weren't likely to be very hard to mov---

A butler?

A mistake.

Samuel made a stupid, dumb, arrogant mistake. Obstacle? Obstacle? This butler? No, unless they happened to take a detour by an asylum before conquering this station, this gang was unlikely to be attended by a willing butler. And an unwilling one would've fled the moment they had the chance!

"This is Silhouette," he spoke through comms to the other G.E.M.I.N.I agents while keeping an eye on the strange butler before them. "I have eyes on a potent--"

"Servant Sofron, at your services!"

As a consequence of his incompetence, Samuel and the rest of them received a melody in the form of a flaming skull that rocketed at them, leaving little room for them to avoid its effects. "CONFIRMED Esper sighting! We are engaged!" he alerted the rest of G.E.M.I.N.I agents mainly to reduce the risk of them getting blindsided if there were more Esper surprises, but that was all the attention he could afford to give the other team.

Samuel's arcane resistance gave him room to work with, although it wasn't very much, and it felt like even less since the remaining two thugs began suppressing fire. That wasn't even mentioning the dampening effect he was subject to the courtesy of this butler's tainted melody. It felt less like his mana was being stolen from him and more like the connection between Samuel and his mana had become vague, like a magical haze. It was still there, it was just much harder to grasp. He wondered if this was what it felt like to people suffering from his own magics. Although such a question would have to wait for another time, as the situation went from bad to worse.

They were now being confronted by the people who had been above them. Well, the singular man, 'Mamba', who rushed Apollo. If that wasn't enough, they were now being pincered by what seemed to be the very same men from before, judging by their words. Their retreat was now cut off, and Samuel wasn't able to utilize the entirety of his mana to do anything about it. He felt a hand grip his heart and attempt to crush it with hopelessness and despair.

Such irony... I'm not a fan of it.

Sam didn't let it smother him.

Calm in heart and mind.

The increasing heat told Samuel he only had a couple of seconds remaining before the butler's spell would engulf him, so he stood tall and whipped his arm out towards one of the grunts shooting at them, and let loose a melody, aimed at one of his arms as he retreated just enough to not be burnt to a crisp. The intent was to potentially cause the man to twist and maybe even spray the butler or other gangster by accident with his gun. Or at the very least, if he missed the arm but still hit the thug, he might just pull the man into this magical fire the butler started.

Either way, Samuel paid the price for becoming a bigger target while people were spraying bullets. One nailed him just below the shoulder on his right side, sending a jolt of pain throughout his demonic body, nearly sending him tumbling down the stairs, which likely would've been fatal given the blind fire being thrown into it. He managed to avoid that much, though.

Samuel hoped his allies could get them out of this mess they were in. He simply wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"I guess I'm dreaming again."

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze Spawn][Restrain (4)][Damage X (6) = -180 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 530

Hmm

There's a quiet room with a relatively nice view towards the topmost floor of a skyscraper, but it is plain otherwise. Inside it is a desk covered with papers and a pen, pincered by two office chairs, and a certificate of some sort hangs behind the desk. A potted plant that may or may not be fake rests in the corner, somehow giving the room a more artificial feel in what is presumably in contrast to its purpose.

Depending on your point of view, the man pensively staring out the window could be considered young or old. It would be many years until he needs to worry about gray hairs on his head instead of black, but it had been over a decade since he graduated high school. He looked no different than your everyday office worker, wearing a collared shirt, slacks, and loafers.

The quiet was broken with a sigh, and he turned around to face the one other person in the room who was sitting on the chair in front of the desk. A raven-haired woman who couldn't be too much younger than the man and whose apparel was similarly professional. She looked at him expectedly.

He chose to wait nearly seven seconds before speaking in a tone that betrayed resignation. "I understand why you have done what you did. I won't pretend to be a friend, but I will say that in our short time together, you have always kept your conduct 'appropriate' to the situation. The ambition you have displayed in everything you do is commendable and I simply would not be surprised at all if I found myself answering to you in a few years. I would welcome it, in fact," he seemed to perk up when talking about the woman, so it was all likely genuine praise he had. He lost a bit of excitement as he continued, however. "And that is why it is with a heavy heart that things have taken this turn, Leroux. To see that potential, that brilliant light be dimmed by a fumbling of priorities... I am disappointed."

The situation was obviously harder on the man than the woman. Presently, she appeared similar to a deer in the headlights, as if all that had been said simply hadn't set in yet. But for the man, for Samuel... this was just too much. He couldn't stand to look this woman in the eyes. Perhaps it was a sign of the very weakness he was disciplining her for. Sympathy.

"Until such a time I can be sure that you will put the company's interests first and foremost, I regret to inform you that I must ask that you stay away from the vending machine in the lobby," he stated gravely. "You may, however, ask a fellow coworker you trust to purchase things in your stead." A final exhale escaped his lips. "You are free to go."

Perhaps in the future, he thought, she would not make the mistake of breaking company property to help someone in need. A cog in a machine was only useful when it turned.

...

...

...

Samuel knew it had to be born from arrogance, but it was a habit of his to take situations like the one he was in now and repurpose them into an office setting with which he was much more familiar and in charge. It was a coping mechanism of sorts, something he required since he began his venture into a world full of danger and death, but it also assisted in keeping him stable as a character.

The power to end one's life was power nonetheless, and that was bound to corrupt people. He feared he would be more susceptible to its influence given his old ways. If he ever found his reaction to a situation to be driven by something other than duty or sympathy, then it was time to take a step back and assess where he was going wrong.

The example provided, of course, is merely a way of determining how much life is valued. He did not feel his reaction in the scenario was unwarranted, as the 'recreation' took place within an office space. Reprimanding and punishing Leroux was acceptable there because it was not in the company's best interest and nobody was in serious danger, so duty prevailed. Seeing as the real-life situation did, however, happen in a life-or-death scenario, Samuel would not personally pursue much more than light scolding, was he in a position of power over the woman, because her actions were beneficial to the people risking their lives. A bit of collateral damage could be overlooked because it ultimately may have saved lives. He could sympathize with that.

...

...

...

Somehow, it felt as though only a moment had passed, and also 16 days had passed. Samuel was doing his best to ensure his teammates could do their best. A machine was a lot less likely to run smoothly if even one cog could no longer turn. If he could serve better greasing those gears, Sam had no problem doing so. He continued along until, after a certain incident with one of their freelancers, he was privately contacted by Binky, requesting that he keep a watchful eye on their (thankfully) poor Dick Cheney impersonator.

"I understand," Samuel agreed, though Binky's instruction wasn't exactly necessary. Threats to the whole were always going to be Samuel's focus if nothing else was supposed to take priority.

With the arrival of new foes, some of whom had names and cut-ins, Samuel had to take a more conservative approach. Shotguns and riot shields were actually quite effective against a man with weapons that sound like they were named by goblins. He allowed the others to be productive for those moments, with the armored freelancer providing a much-needed barricade between them and bullets intending on wiping them out and Apollo managing to shoot at things that were not considered friendly. Samuel did not mimic this behavior simply because he wasn't sure how wieldy a gun like that would be in this demonic form of his. He abstained, ultimately.

Assistance then came from Klava, who rejoined them and helped them push to the stairs, their armored freelancer still leading the charge. It was here, however, Samuel was forced to witness conduct he did not approve of, but he remained quiet about it. There is an argument that ignoring these sorts of problems is a problem itself, but Samuel had a sneaking suspicion these thugs weren't the sort to take five so that they could all watch his company's training video on sexual harassment in the workplace. Suppose that meant there was another reason to get rid of these thugs.

As Protector made short work of the men on the stairs, Sam received another call from Binky.

"Acknowledged," Samuel spoke into his receiver, listening to a loud, thunderous roar coming from above them as Binky informed him of Cobra's position. He took this slight moment, still following behind, addressing the freelancer group. "As expected, our objective is higher up, on the fourth floor. If we can continue to use this momentum to push through these optimists and sever the head from the snake, I suspect the rest of it will go limp," his ghastly voice added an ominous feeling to that statement.

It was then that they began their ascent, following Protector's lead and in pursuit of the shotgun-wielding gangster. The suit managed to snatch away the weapons from a number of their foes, and Apollo continued to rain fire on them. Until they were in a more open space, all rushing past their defense would do would hasten Sam's date with the devil, so he instead relied on his spells, which he was a bit more confident in if the truth were to be told.

Silhouette extended his arm out towards one of the disarmed grunts, who, when confronted with what appeared to be a literal demon glaring and pointing right at him, swallowed a lump in his throat. In the confusion with being relieved of his weapon and startled by Silhouette, he wasn't able to notice in time the swirling mass of shadow forming beneath him. One of his 'friends' attempted to warn him, but to no avail as in but a split second the shadow formed into a hand similar to Silhouette's own, erupting from the ground and grasping the man tightly. He began to panic when it then started to apply pressure, futilely trying to pry himself out of it with his bare hands. The gunfire prevalent in the building drowned out the crack of his bones as it shut tight, crushing him in a gruesome manner that left no doubt to those nearby that he had perished.

Symphony of Espers

S a m u e l

"Bloodstains are nothing a little laundry detergent and cold water can't solve."

— Sam

Status

30 | Male | G.E.M.I.N.I | Creeping Anxiety
Stab, Slash | Dagger, Sword | Arcane | Fade
Paranoia | Hallucinate
Malice | Darkness | Devious Intent
[Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 750

[Bronze Projectile][Intangible] = -40 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 710

As far as the weather was concerned, there was nothing particularly strange about it. An average evening in Pax Septimus, non too hot nor particularly cold, at least until now. For the few who remained outside of the building, the temperature would drop abnormally fast. It was enough to make their hairs stand up, and perhaps even coax a shiver out of them. But if that didn't, surely the onset of anxiety would. These girls would sense that not all was right, and it wasn't the building before them that gave them this impression. A storm of dread must be approaching and it initially felt as though they would be hopeless to stop it.

Of course, Betty and Veronica ultimately knew this was no cause for concern. After all, it would not be their first time being subject to this spontaneous fear. They could easily pull through, as well as Klava were she to attempt to put it behind her. This was, more than anything, an announcement:

Samuel had finally arrived.

"Pardon the delay," a thousand voices seemed to assail the women, as a humanoid figure composed of all the wrongs in the world appeared beside them as if from nowhere. In reality, they had simply been, understandably, paying much more attention to the building and the fight taking place within which made it easy for him to get there before they noticed. "I read the summarized briefing on the way over, so I won't waste any more time." those that had turned to face Samuel found his voice a lot less echoey as he made this statement before taking off.

With some of their squad already inside the building, it made a lot of sense that most of the gangsters' focus would be on those individuals there rather than the ones outside. Still, there was one man on the second story who, thankfully, Samuel spotted before leaving the safety of the APC. The thug, firearm ready and leaning over the window cill, was prepared to fire upon the next person to show themself with a hail of bullets. He would need to be dealt with.

Samuel's arm absorbed the dimmed light around it starting from the elbow and moving up. As it reached his hand, he quickly appeared from behind the APC, pointing Slash, his sword, at the thug and letting loose a dark bolt of energy at the thug who, unfamiliar with the magical side of the world, was momentarily startled by his demonic visage. This mistake was fatal, but the bolt that struck him square in the chest was not. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. Instead, the man felt a unique sensation as his body turned transparent and he suddenly found himself falling forward through the window cill he had been leaning on, plummeting a couple of stories to the ground with a loud thud as the spell ended. He groaned in obvious pain, but the fall did not succeed in killing him.

But that was what Sam's blades were for.

The gangster was unable to recover before the Esper closed the distance and plunged his blade straight through his throat, a spray of blood hitting his chest. The dying man let out a sickening gurgle and passed away not long after, but Sam didn't stay to watch, entering the building before any more men might try to gun him down from above.

If there was one thing Samuel was worried about, it was friendly fire. Since he had not personally met the freelancers who joined the op, he couldn't exactly know what they might look like. Some people, Valkyrie as an example, had a rather unassuming and basic Esper form. And if their choice of clothing just happened to resemble one of these goons, then that could lead to an unfortunate happening. However, when Samuel entered the building, he found such fears weren't relevant to this group.

A giant suit of armor and skinwalker auditioning for a new Rambo movie, alongside Jacquline. Well, at least they seemed to be holding their own. Or technically not -- that gun was the same kind as the gangers were using, so Sam imagined it must've been stolen. Either way, as long as it was turned on them and not him, a bit of theft could be overlooked.

"G.E.M.I.N.I Agent Silhouette has arrived," both Protector and Apollo would be subject to the same onslaught of voices as had happened before at the APC, but between the cacophony of gunfire and the severity of the situation, it was a minor nuisance at best. "I will make use of the opportunities you provide me with to the best of my ability."

Despite his intimidating appearance, Samuel didn't seem to be a priority target to the gangsters, though this was largely due to the big armored soldier making kebabs out of anyone close to them, or the man shooting hot lead in their general direction (as 'at them' seemed a bit too strong for the inaccurate spray he was subjecting them to). Heck, even the smaller knight bashing heads in was probably helping in this regard. Intending on keeping his word, Samuel focused his efforts on those that could still yet retaliate as Jacquline already seemed to be having the time of her life while taking out those who were disoriented.

His attacks would seem brutal, but efficient. A gangster attempting to aim his weapon at Jacquline while she made pulp out of another man's head would find his leg slashed and, as it gave away, his throat fell upon a dagger that was waiting for it. Another attempted to attack with an empty gun butt to the back of Sam's head, but lost his raised hand to a single swing and then was impaled through the chest on the next.

Symphony of Espers

Samuel Howard

S a m u e l H o w a r d

_{30 y/o | Male | 5'9 | 163 lbs | G.E.M.I.N.I}
🗡️

APPEARANCE:

Samuel would not generally stand out in a crowd. He stands at an exceptionally plain height of 5'9 and owns what appears to be a slim build. His one saving grace, a handsome face, is far too often obscured by raven-black locks that stonewall attempts at grooming them to matter significantly. His attire while at his job had always consisted of appropriate suits, but he chooses comfort over style on the rare chances he gets to laze about. Since he obtained his grimoire and began to affiliate himself with G.E.M.I.N.I, he has taken to wearing flashier attire whenever he works with them. Still mostly suits.

Normal Attire

G.E.M.I.N.I Attire

In Stark contrast to his human form, his esper form does anything but blend in with a crowd. When in this form, he assumes a frightening and demonic visage complete with glowy-red eyes and a twisted, perpetual smile. Though not a one for one, the clothing it wears takes inspiration on what Sam is wearing at the moment of transformation. The attire is always fashioned a crimson red and has no true effect other than cosmetic.

Esper Form

GRIMIORE:

A white domino mask with a thin black outline around the eyes. It would look right at home on a caped crusader or even a villain. Despite the lack of string to hold it up, it has no problems staying on the face of one who wears it. It gives off eerie vibes if you stare directly at it for too long.

INSTRUMENT: Rip, Tear

A tarnished sword owning a faded design that had once been quite extravagant, held alongside a dagger in an even worst state of decay. Despite their rusted blades, they have quite the edge thanks to the arcane energy stored within.
GRADE: Silver
KEYWORD: Dagger, Sword
DAMAGE TYPE: Arcane (dagger), Arcane(sword)
DAMAGE: C
SPEED: C
SENTINEL: D
SPECIAL: Rupture - A strike from his weapon needs not be fatal immediately. When successfully hitting a foe with a defense rank equal to or higher than his attack with his dagger, he leaves a lasting wound that does the equivalent of an E-grade damage note in physical damage for 2 turns.

STYLE: Delusion

Samuel forgoes his human form and adopts a demonic appearance that now stands at the same height as him, moderately alters the sound of his voice, and noticeably distorts the light around him. Compared to his prior appearance, he is also less lithe, and his form seems to assimilate the clothing he's wearing into it instead of being influenced by it.

GRADE: Silver
PHYSICAL: D
ARCANE: C
CHAOS: D
SPECIAL: Dying Light - Samuel benefits from an increased resistance to both Darkness and Light melodies by a single rank, but only in dim or darker lighting, such as at night or while obscured in mundane shadow.

GENRE: Malice

Samuel's magics intend to mask his presence, strip away his opponent's defenses, whittle them down, and force them into disadvantageous situations he can make use of while they can't properly fight back.

GRADE: Silver
ELEMENT: Darkness
NOTES: [Obfuscate (4)] [Intangible (4)], Damage X (6), Pull (2), Dispel (6), Mana Burn (6), Restrain (4), Extend (2), Trap (0), Piercing (2), Full Enhance (4)
SPECIAL: Devious Intent - Enemies recently affected by Sam's Control notes are assaulted by visions of violence, making it hard to concentrate. A delay note with a duration of 1 second is added to the start of their next melody or arcane ability.

LEITMOTIF: Creeping Anxiety

Though he may speak kind words and sometimes perform kind deeds, there exists a sense of impending doom that follows him, not unlike a shadow.

GRADE: Bronze
SPECIAL: Hallucinate - While transformed, Samuel's voice seemingly comes from within the mind of those that could reasonably hear it, accompanied by a legion of demonic echoes, and people cannot help but feel hypervigilant around him.

BACKUP: YPINMFMP

A Ping Pong ball gifted to him by his boss, Fritzi, in recognition of his failed attempts at beating her in the sport. The absurd tenacity it inspires when hitting friendlies clearly sets it apart from its mundane brethren.

GRADE: Bronze
BACKUP MELODY: [Bronze Projectile][Bounce][Piercing][If Ally][Or][If Self][Stabilize] = 80
SPECIAL: Empowered - The Ping Pong Ball glows a certain color when charged, and leaves a bit of that color on anything it hits. It probably washes out. It is red when it has expended its power.

PR: Umbral Contingencies

An assortment of practical equipment, mainly carried in the potential event Samuel cannot remain transformed, yet hasn't lost consciousness. It includes armor to protect his fragile body, a pair of handcuffs to restrain an individual, some basic medical supplies, and a concealable baton for use in self defense.

GRADE: Bronze
GEAR: Clip light, Kevlar Vest, Self Defense Weapon, x1 Handcuff, x1 Medical Supplies
SPECIAL: Limited Budget, Maximum Style - All of his gear is purchased or altered superficially so as not to conflict, visually, with his suits.

TRIVIA:

Biography

Samuel was born to a wealthy couple who never seemed to run out of money but was always lacking in affection. He was given any material goods he wanted and was tutored in an instrument but was left under the care of a nanny more often than his parents. His parents expected much of him, though they treated him more like an asset than a child. Because of this, he was rather haughty growing up, thinking himself better than others.

He used his parent's money to buy gifts which he used to obtain friends, made other people do his work for him, and generally acted just like you would expect a spoiled brat to.

Shortly after he entered high school, a few friends of his got together with him and had a movie night. Samuel became enthralled by the ending of a sports movie they watched. He saw the protagonist, in a final game, score an impossible play that let them win the game. He was treated like some sort of hero, with everyone jumping in excitement, singing his praises, and even getting a kiss! Oh, that was the sort of attention he wanted for sure, so he thought it wise to try out for a few different teams in his school.

...They didn't go as planned. He was never too athletic in the past and it came back to bite him in the ass as he underperformed. So he thought about taking on his studies. Someone like him should be the smartest person in the school if he puts his mind to it, right? He ended up struggling to even have passing grades when he removed the people who had been doing his work up to this point.

Being the spoiled rich kid he was, he couldn't just admit that the problem was him, so he lashed out against everyone, including his own friends. One even ended up getting into a fight with him, if you could call it that, and left Samuel both on the floor and a bit more humble. He was left alone and even then he did not receive respite. A tragic accident took his parents and his life turned completely upside down.

He was taken in by his grandmother and the combined stress of everything happening plus a lowered standard of living made their relationship rocky at the start. She put him through a hellish training regime that involved taking out the trash when it was full, cleaning up after himself, and learning how to cook. He could swear he was going to die at first, but somehow he pulled through. He settled into the new lifestyle and began to open up a little more. He formed a strong bond with his grandmother over time.

The Samuel that entered his junior year was a completely different person than the one on freshman year. He became a lot more quiet, reserved, and infinitely more polite. He focused hard on his studies and practiced his instrument of choice (bass guitar) and graduated with no problem.

As an only child, Samuel's eighteenth birthday was a very important date. His parents' deaths left him with a sizable inheritance, more than enough to live off of if he didn't do anything stupid with it. But he didn't want it. He hadn't really earned it, and he was afraid that he might lose this progress as a person if he took it.

So he gave it to his grandmother, who was far more worthy of it than he. He then told her about his intentions of moving out and earning things for himself. While his grandma respected the character needed to make the decision, she made it quite clear she wasn't leaving him out to dry entirely. She would send him a package every year with a bit of fund and a present.

Biography, but this time it's more relevant

Since then, a decade and a couple of years passed and Samuel has a relatively stable job as an office manager and frequents a local nightclub where he plays his bass. Pax Septimus was not his first choice to live, honestly, but he saw an opportunity to progress up the ladder and took it.

Lamentably, Sam was an OC not allowed to stay that way forever. On his thirtieth birthday, Samuel received a package similar to the ones he had received over the years, only this one was on the smaller side. He left for work before opening it, deciding that it made the most sense to open it while he was celebrating. So, he worked the day away and went drinking with a few coworkers at night at the nightclub. He opened his package to find a strange domino mask alongside the money and raised an eyebrow. He felt a chill when his gaze lingered too long, so he threw it back in one of his suit pockets and laughed it off.

By the time he and his coworkers were done, it was well into the AM. Nobody was in a proper state of mind, not even himself, but he called a cab for the others and then began to walk home, citing the short distance between his place and the club for why. This turned out to be a mistake.

Samuel Howard felt a pair of eyes on his back and the wind began to get chillier as he walked, but he couldn't spot anyone when he looked around. Yet he still could swear someone or something was watching him. He tried his best to fight off the looming dread, recalling all the wonderful things about Pax Septimus. Like how it was a safe place and everyone was happy...!

Of course, such delusions do not make for reality, and as if offended by his shoddy attempt at mentally retreating, his stalker revealed itself! It was difficult to see at night, especially as the lights around it began to dim and flicker. Its shape was vaguely humanoid, covered in what appeared to be a living shadow, and held an object of some sort to its side. Its eyes appeared to be made of hellfire and it oozed hostility.

Beyond that, Samuel couldn't see as it suddenly lunged forth to attack him!

Despite his inebriation, he somehow managed to roll to the side and decided immediately to escape, running as fast as he could away from it. But it wasn't long before it caught up and he was forced to avoid another attack. He wasn't quick enough to evade it entirely and took an attack to the side, which sent him tumbling to the floor as the package containing the mask slipped out.

Samuel wasn't in pain, but seeing the blood pour out of his side had caused him to freeze. He looked up at the figure that began to approach him, raising its arm as if to finish the job, mere seconds away. Time seemed to crawl to a close in what he was sure to be his last moments. Overwhelming despair began to claim him as his life flashed before him, reminding him of the life he had lived so far.

...It was sad. He couldn't deny it. How he was. And how he had become. Neither of them would be remembered for anything significant after they passed, and they had never achieved anything of worth. What else could that be but sad?

He understood deep down what had become of him. He was just a coward. The thought of returning to the old, arrogant Samuel was terrifying. He was so scared of returning to those old ways that he confused ambition for greed and rid himself of it. It was so safe to work in an office instead of pursuing an actual career with his bass guitar. He could've stayed and helped his grandma but he fled the home to avoid the responsibility, figuring money he gave her would do the work for him.

The only thing that had changed about him was that he was now driven by fear instead of pride! It was pathetic! And even now, about to die, he would do so because he was too scared to move!

...Damn it! Now just isn't the time to be dead! Grandma slapped the quitter out of me years ago! There's gotta be something...!

His eyes fell upon the mask. It looked unremarkable, compared to what Samuel felt when he observed it. The eerie feeling he had before was amplified far beyond what it exuded earlier. And it was nothing but...

Fear. Unmatched by any other. The assailant standing before him couldn't compare. His impending death was nothing before it. He saw a vision of his life once again crumbling into ash as he lost everything he held dear. Everyone he ever knew dying painfully, cursing his name as they did, including his grandma. It tore him apart.

He concluded:

It was pure evil. Malevolence was given form in the shape of a domino mask. No good should come from it. The day this was removed from the world would be cause for celebration.

...but still, he grabbed for it. Even as terrified as he was, he wasn't about to go back on what he decided! Quitting was out of the question. Quivering in fear just because he was about to be murdered for no reason or because Satan dropped some demonic artifact in front of him wouldn't stop him. He'd at least die trying! And besides, if he didn't, the person trying to kill him might!

Samuel successfully grabbed the mask before he could be finished. He began to 'feel' shadows, owned an unnatural understanding of them, and knew he could now use them. Silhouettes in the shape of hands came from the ground and towered above him, before crashing down on him, dispersing into a dark haze that hid his form.

But when he emerged?

His devilish appearance was more than enough to send his attacker into a full-speed retreat into the shadows, though Samuel wasn't graced with his terrified screams as he did. Considering the emotional rollercoaster that they caused, didn't they earn a whole lot worse than a simple scare? Much to what he felt to be the mask's dismay, Samuel did not choose to pursue the attacker, and instead, his body chose to collapse right then and there as a result of the mix of stress and blood loss. Someone found him and got him to a hospital, and he made a full recovery.

Samuel was strangely confronted by G.E.M.I.N.I before the police could get to him, though that was probably for the better. They introduced him to this new and magical world, and after spending a couple of weeks deciding on how he should approach the situation, he ended up siding with G.E.M.I.N.I and becoming one of its agents.