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6 yrs ago
Current I teach my first online lecture today... this shouldn't be too hard right?
4 likes
11 yrs ago
Tout ce qui est fait n'est plus à faire
11 yrs ago
"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."
11 yrs ago
"El amor es como el fuego. Suelen ver el humo los que están fuera antes que las llamas los que están dentro."

Bio



Hexaflexagon (Concept)
In geometry, flexagons are flat models, usually constructed by folding strips of paper, that can be flexed or folded in certain ways to reveal faces besides the two that were originally on the back and front.


Hexaflexagon (Person?)
Academic who somehow got conned into working for the Government. Been role-playing both on forums and TTRPGs for close to twenty years at this point. I'm like 99% retired from active RPing on the Guild, but I still like to poke my head onto here once in a while to make sure that I didn't leave the lights on.

Most Recent Posts




Graham Tosches
22 March 15 5'10"Guardian


◆ A P P E A R A N C E
Graham is the product of a peculiar set of genetic coding and overall outward stimulus to produce something akin to a well made building of sorts. His is the body of the Vitruvian Man, a body seemingly constructed from the outset with the goals of a rigid symmetry to it, each part focused and melded into the next as easily as the underlying network of sinew and bone beneath the skin works. Graham was always a relatively slender child partly due to the active metabolism he thanklessly acquired from his mother and partly because of his own state of growing up where food sometimes did not grace his presence for days at a time. Training at Oakridge had supplemented this adding well needed muscle and mass to a frame that was once barely a husk. Though he is still what most would be considered of a slender frame not as large as some of his other male compatriots his is a body meant not for brute force but rather built around speed and of acrobatic skill used to surmount obstacles in quick and effective maneuvers

The rest of his outward appearance serve as fractured glimpses at the soul that resides within. His hair flaxen, is kept long and unkempt as if Graham had not brought comb or brush to it in years, each wayward strand moved in its own direction as if having a mind of its own. Slight hints of a growing mustache crest upon his upper lip and strands of hair dance about his chin but the rest of his jawline seems free of any major sort of growth. His eyes, a light blue something akin to the sky on a clear day and despite his own circumstances and life are bright and hold a fragment of hope to them, hope for a better future, hope for anything really. The smile that will more than occasionally ghost over his face is in direct contrast to the rest of his body crooked and the teeth themselves seem perfectly unconcerned with uniformity in terms of size and alignment not that he seems to care. Though there is one more curious imperfection in the outward symmetry and that are his arms stretching from the tips of his fingers to where they meet the shoulder they are covered in marks: a series of patchwork cuts and burns that dance haphazardly across his skin seemingly chemical in nature.

Graham's choice of clothing is plain and is based more on function than outward appearance. Most takes the form of athletic gear in shades of gray and black almost always accommodated by a pair of well worn sneakers whose laces are a vibrant pink in color.


◆ I D E O L O G Y
Always. Keep. Running. These three simple words are the driving mantra of the young Tosches's life. He realized from a very young age that if you end up depending on others, it all ends up going to shit eventually. So to be happy, to be content you just gotta pick a path and just keep on running. People are going to try and slow you down but you can't let them, you just keep on running and don't look back because there is nothing back there for you, everything is ahead of you. This results in something of a odd foundation for his life; he seeks thrills and pushes forward without thought of consequences. It's a spontaneity not of childish glee but of the primal frantic state of a stricken animal being hunted, blindly pushing ahead just trying to get away.

Despite this if one manages to 'catch' Graham or at least manage to keep up with his frantic almost self-destructive vigor they will find he is at least personable. Graham believes highly in giving people a chance - note the singular tense of the word. He is amicable to those around him generally the life of every non-existent party focused almost singularly minded on finding that next rush. Life to him is something of a game, a terribly cruel game where the deck is stacked against your favor, the rules are vague and clouded at best and everything you do seems to have no inherent meaning to it but a game nevertheless. He laughs at the seemingly nonexistent joke whose punchline has been lost by time as he himself spirals deeper and deeper towards the ground.

Despite this he is in desperately over his head and he knows it. He is a coward, not the hero that the world is waiting for; a lowly fool in a gambit meant for kings. The dark ichor of self doubt and self destruction swirls about him and threatens to throw him off of an already precarious balancing act. But that's what it all really is isn't it? An act. A play in which he is nothing but an actor playing his part during the past to convince those around him that he is nothing but a charming if a bit off centered adrenaline junkie but eventually the curtain has to fall.


◆ B A C K G R O U N D
The crashing of water against sandy beaches a dark gray in color a mixture of decomposing wood fibers and volcanic ash. The modest city of Tyre stood against the ocean far to the southwest of Oakridge. The town was known for its relaxed and almost resort-like atmosphere that hung in the air and was a popular locale for vacationer wanting to escape away to a softer world if only for a moment of time. The primarily lifeline of the city beside it's tourism was of course Nexus Industries who had created a large offshore power plant that loomed on the horizon built to harvest the geothermic energies deep underneath the ocean waves. Graham's father Ulysses was a systems technician at the plant and his mother Claribel served as a teacher at one of the local schools. Graham was the first child of two, the second a younger sister Anna was two years younger.

Then everything changed. Soon ideas of vacations and relaxation quickly vanished as the Calamity struck. Tyre lost its most stable source of income and became even more heavily dependent on the mysterious power plant out at sea for their main source of income. Many were recruited and shipped off to fight creatures that they could not possibly comprehend, Graham's father being one of them recruited as a field engineer to service the many arms and armaments used in the defense of the world. Like so many others like him the last time Graham would see his father was him waving goodbye from the window of a train as he was ushered off with the hope and desire to protect his family. He would die several weeks later claimed by the war like many others before him.

Alone and taking care of two young children Claribel tried her best to provide for them but it was not enough. As more and more left Tyre many concerned that the tremendous flooding that had swept across most of the continent would hit them next fled to the safety of land further in. Soon the city itself was a small fragment of what it once was and many of Graham early childhood memories are wandering those streets with his sister. But mysteriously enough the flooding that had conquered many other coastal towns and cities sweeping them beneath the waves did not claim Tyre. The water remained rough but low enough to keep it underneath the flood barriers. Some of the survivors pointed this 'miracle' to the power plant off shore and the seemingly memorizing waltz of lights and flashes that came from it during the night. Those still employed at the plant though maintained that all it did was it's original intended purpose.

Then something cataclysmic happened. Graham was ten and the air that night was unnaturally frantic high winds whipping across the lonely streets. He and his sister watched from their bedroom window out at the sea. The horizon was alight with a crimson glow as the power plant at sea glowed furiously with a light that had not been seen before. The glow became brighter and brighter until the sky itself seemed almost awash with red daylight and then a beam of seemingly light pierced through the main tower of the plant and a large explosion followed. Almost immediately following the explosion, the sea churned and moved with a torrent and great waves of water swept over the flood walls of the city. Claribel was one such soul to be swept away in the resulting torrent. The city was left like a decaying piece of driftwood, corpse swept out to sea.

In the early morning of the next day, a 'relief' team came from Nexus Industries members of their private security force. The survivors thought that they came to help but the truth was revealed quickly after as the gunshots began to ring out. Whatever had happened at the offshore plant was not supposed to happen, it was a fluke, a mistake, a mistake that had killed hundreds within the city. It was something that Nexus needed to not escape, not to be spoken off. The official story was that Tyre was swept away by the ocean that night, but Graham remembers what happened. Through sheer luck and tenacity Graham was able to ghost him and his sister out underneath the defense perimeter that had been formed by Nexus' men and escaped. Eventually they found their way to Cetra where they managed to vanish in the slums like many others before them.

Eventually Anna would die in those slums of common sickness as they were too poor to get proper medical treatment for her. She would die with a smile on her face telling her older brother a simple joke from a time long ago. It was in this rage and grief induced state that Graham found out he was a guardian, several weeks later they found him. He did'nt know how they did but they did they found him in a gutter only a few days before he would've jumped and just ended it all. He needed to forget and they needed soldiers. It was a perfect match really. Soon afterward he was shipped out to Oakridge.


~~~

~~~


◆ W A R F A R E
Graham uses a rather interesting trick weapon that he lovingly has nicknamed Sera. Usually Sera appears as two metallic daggers that fit very comfortably in his hands and uses them to perform a flurry of blows at very rapid speeds cutting into an alien threat. These two blades can join together as the handles slide into one another and the two daggers become a strange thing which could mostly easily be described as a bladed boomerang. Graham uses a style of fluidity with the variations of the weapon using it to keep forward momentum going carving inwards with his blades than using his acrobatic ability to make distance when he is overwhelmed but continue the assault with the boomerang.

◇ Delvosh|Lighting|+Frenzy The spirit engulfs Graham in a thundering cascade of electrical energy empowering his strikes but also channeling attacks that strike him with the same power
◇ Kreos|Fire|-Curse The Spirit encases a foe in a burning embrace preventing it from being healed.
◇ Tywin|Lighting|+Empower Fanatic+Leech +Pain The Spirit grants Graham increased attacking abilities and allows for him to gain life from the damage he causes to his foes but it opens his defense up to more pain
◇ Lesalo|Fire|+Protect +Shell +Zombie The Spirit surrounds Graham in glowing and fiery aura that makes him more resilient to attacks made against him but for as long as the protection is maintained any healing done to the boy will cause the flames to strike inward towards Graham.


◆ A S P E K T S
◇ Fanatic
◇ Adept
◇ Lancer
◇ Lucky


◆ Secondary Characters ◆
~~~

@Prisk
Thank you!

I reckon he would end up picking going to the Front Lines if I was staying faithful to his character, as he is a adrenaline junkie with a death wish issue. So I suppose Hammer of the Army it is.

And don't worry about little old me, as my grandmother would be fond of reminding me c'est la vie.

@DJAtomika
Ah yes that was more or less a undesirable consequence of dealing with BPD. Basically at about the time I 'vanished', my doctor had switched me onto a different medication than the usual (a new clinical trial that was supposed to be better for me because it had less chances of me becoming totally dependent upon it) but and I quote it had 'adverse effects to my mental state' or to put it less bluntly I was about halfway between throwing myself off the nearest building or drinking myself to death. So much fun right? So my RPs at the time kind of fell to the wayside because I was too much of a mess to really deal with anything at all. But lucky that issue has been resolved. So yay!? I guess.

@Rockette
Oh well that is a relief! What would I do without the validation of my peers? Probably actually go jump off a roof this time! (I'm kidding, I'm kidding don't worry.)

And I'm doing well enough, thanks for asking. You holding up okay?

@DJAtomika

Well it has certainly been a couple of months hasn't it? And how are you doing signore?

@Rockette
But of course, the only real way to do things is always with a little element of surprise.
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.


And I did a thing!

Hex presents
Cyclops


B E A R T O O T H, A L A S K A


He could still remember a different world, a world that was filled with color and excitement: the trees were green, the sky was blue and cotton candy was pink of all things. Now? Now Scott only saw the world in shades of red. Red the color of the angry faces that protested his and mutant kind's very existence, red the color of the post-it that he had left on Jean's door, red the color of the sweater that the Professor had bought him that first Christmas they had spent together, red the color of Warren's body distorted and morphed bones jutting outwards at odd angles from the corpse. He hated red. He wished that he could never see it again, he wanted to see the sky again, he wanted to see the grass, he wanted everything to go back to the way it was. It was never that easy of course.

He looked down at the half filled pint of beer on the wooden table in front of him. It tasted like a mixture of gasoline, piss and a sprinkling of regret; it was Scott's fifth drink that evening. He had wandered into the small town of Beartooth earlier that morning, one of many rural dives that had squatted in during his 'sabbatical' northwards. Life had taken a sort of cyclical nature to it as he would wander the wilderness for a while alone before coming into town to drink himself into a stupor for a week before the locals eventually ran him off again. He laughed to think of what any of those back home would think of him now, the first X-man, the leader of mutant kind, the goddamn hero nothing more than a wandering vagabond, a minor nuisance to the truckers, miners and lumber workers that populated the small backwater towns of Alaska.

At least the place he picked to drown away his memories wasn't the worst he had been it. It was a harmonious cross between rundown dive bar and trucker pit stop. A squat wood exterior lay off to one side of the lone pothole strawed road that lead into town almost as if some force above had dropped it while cleaning and had forgotten to pick it up. The road emptied onto a rough 'parking area' made of hastily deposited gravel and inter dispersed weeds which currently housed two large oil tankers heading southwards. Two dirty rectangular windows completed the picture and amidst half faded neon signs that advertised beer of many shades and sizes was one word frosted into the glass. Ed's. The interior of matched the picture that the outside had caste just as well. It was a one room deal in the shape of a slightly lopsided rectangle and the air smelled of cigarette smoke, cooking meat and vomit in equal measures. An old man with graying muttonchops worked the bar and a younger women maybe two or so years younger than Scott was tending to the few customers that populated the establishment. To complete the overall ambience of rustic misery was a half broken jukebox sputtering broken verses of country songs into the void filling the void usually occupied by busy patrons.

"And do you need anything else dearie?" The waitress asked as she came back around during her rounds to check back up on Scott sitting at his table in the corner. Her raven colored hair, waist length swished behind her and her long eyelashes fluttered in front of cerulean blue eyes. Scott almost immediately deiced based on appearances alone that words like dearie certainty didn't fit the girl. Scott raised a hand towards her shaking his head.

"I'm just fine miss. Everything is just perfect."

"Well alright then, but just between me and you." She explained to him leaning in as she whispered in his ear. "A pretty boy like yourself shouldn't be moping all in his lonesome." She explained with a wink as she pretend to adjust a piece of the untouched utensils on the table before she walked away, body swaying as she went.

Scott watched her leave but did nothing else except take another sip from his glass. As the pisswater raced down his throat he heard it. The sound was of car's pulling off of the highway and onto the gravel outside, Judging from the sound on the gravel they were SUVs and judging from the noises the engines made they were souped up something special. In short it was the noise of trouble. Scott pushed his chair seemingly further back into the corner of the establishment nonchalantly in motion but still putting him further out of mind and eye set as he took another sip from his pint as he watched the door. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against loose stone and voices talking among themselves, low thuds as they ascended the stairs. Moments later the door was kicked open.

The trouble came in the form of five sharply dressed men wearing close fitting jeans, and expensive looking designer brand fleeces and outerwear that clung to their muscular frames. The leader of the back was a smallish sized man with darker skin, slick back black hair and a carnivorous smile on his face. He turned about the bar like a predator looking for his next meal, eyes anxious and ready. His eyes fell upon his target, the girl and the bartender standing behind the bar shaking but holding firm. His carnivorous smile only grew as he stepped further in and announced with a grandstand like presence.

"Yooo Eddy I'm here to collect what we are duee" He spoke in a singsong voice as he cleared the distance between the door and the bar quickly, snarling at the few patrons that he passed by.

"Listen Ray, you know business has been slow this month but I promise I will pay it all back next time..."

"Oooh that's not good Eddy, that is not good at all. Boss doesn't like it when his clientele is late."

"I know, I know but--" Eddy was cut off as Ray slammed a fist hard into the table.

"No buts Eddy. Guess we will just have to take something else this time. Last time it was the cook's life? This time? Well the boss man been looking for another plaything and your pretty little daughter will do just fine. Of course after my boys have fun with her. He don’t mind use merchandise you see." Ray explained his voice slick as oil as he gestured to the pair trying to back away from them, fear in their eyes. Two of Ray's thugs leaped over the bar one of them tried to pull Eddy's daughter away from him but he clung onto the raven haired girl tight, at least until the other thug bashed him over the hand with a lead pipe he pulled tucked into his wasteland. Eddy crumbled, the daughter screamed and Ray with a hyena like glee. Scott finished his drink and gently placed it onto the table before he stood up.

Jean had always said that he had a habit of finding trouble. Guess she was right... again.

"Men's winter apparel section. I think the lady you are currently holding would very much appreciate it if you let her go." Scott announced his voice carry the weight of unseen authority behind it as he stood watching the thugs, arms casually crossed. Ray and his thugs turned around to look at the man talking to them. In all honestly he wasn't the most imposing figure in the world at the moment. His clothes looked beaten in and ragged, his hair was growing uncharacteristically shaggy and well muscle still clung to his body it was much less than it once was. That combined with a pair of stylish if a bit out of place ruby-quartz shades and you had a man that looked very out of place.

"Yeah? And who's going to make us you pretty boy." Ray explained reaching into his pocket and producing a small combat knife, the blade shimmering in the dim light of the bar.

"No you are going to let her go nice and easy now. If you don't I'm going to have to hurt you. Last warning"

"I think your bad at math son. I see five of us and one stupid sun glass wearing idiot about to get his shit kicked in. Charge!" Ray yelled and he and his thugs rushed Scott planning to use superior numbers to bring him down.

"Alright then. We do this your way." Scott announced as he dropped into a defensive stance letting the thugs close the distance. Ray the one with the knife got there first and he struck outwards with a surprising amount of skill and speed, much more than Scott would've given for a common thug, no this man had training. A normal man may have been at the mercy of the blade, but Scott Summers was not a normal man, no he was far from it. As the blade came in to strike home, Scott shifted to the left pushing the blade past him and with it Ray sending him stumbling straight into one of the bar tables behind them. Two more thugs charged next, as they closed in Scott reacted left foot racing upwards in a furious arc coming hard upon the side of thug's one neck sending him smashing into the floor. He was already dropping downwards as the other threw his punch missing Scott's head by inches as the mutant rammed his elbow into the man's solar plexus. As he dropped Scott grabbed him by the head and slammed him into a nearby support column not hard enough to cause any real damage but enough to give him one hell of a broken nose. You didn't kill those were the rules even for slime like these. The last two came at him one still holding the lead pipe and just like the others they too soon quickly fell leaving a pile of bodies strewn across the floor, Scott wasn't even breathing that heavy.

"You don't know who you just fucked with!" Ray yelled at Scott in a mumble of broken teeth produced in the aftermath of smashing head first into a table. He and his boys quickly hightailed it out of the bar and Scott stood their arms crossed watching as they went.

"He's right you know. You just made a mistake." The waitress explained as she helped her father up from the ground blood streaming from the open wound on his head.

"What do you mean?" Scott responded eyebrow raised curious at the grave tone in the girl's voice.

"Ray and his boys are mercs hired by the one they call the Black King. He runs these parts including the big old mine outside of town and you just angered one of his favorite lieutenants."

"Well if he fights anything like his boys then he won't trouble for me, don't you worry."

"You don't get it. Your fancy fighting skills won't help you here. The Black King isn't like you or me. He's one of those mutant freaks.." The girl explained calling out to Scott who was already halfway to the door by this point. At the mention of the m-word though he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around walking back up to the bar. Once he was there he produced a small sum of cash onto the bar top and peered intently at the girl who was a little taken aback at the sudden forcefulness that the cool and relaxed man was showing.

"Here this will pay for the damages and then some. Now tell me all you know about this Black King..."
@Blue Demon
Well I personally don't see why not.
The X-Men don't have the best track record in these games so we'll see if they can go the distance this time.


Oh don't worry we totally maybe kind of eventually sometime in the future if nobody is watching got this!


New Frontier: DC/Marvel One Universe RP application:



Scott Summers - Cyclops
Neutral Good.
It’s Complicated.


"Poor little Scott Summers— the boy most likely to have a nervous breakdown— prepared his whole life to lead an army by everyone he ever knew and trusted. And then it's time to grow up and lead and— and it's an awkward fit on him, sometimes. "
--Emma Frost.

History:
Scott Summer’s was born on an operating table left behind from the Second World War within Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson up in Alaska, a few miles outside of Anchorage. He was the oldest son of Katherine Summers, doctor and Major Christopher Summers a pilot in the United States Air Force. The first ten years of his life where considerable normal even pleasant by most standards, though even at a young age Scott had trouble getting along with his peers as his father was positioned from base to base making it hard for him to make friends and even more so maintaining them. Rather Scott grew very close to his younger brother Alex, the two of them relying heavily on one another Alex especially as Scott spend most of his days protecting him from bullies, getting into more trouble at School much to the dismay of his parents. After one particular bad incident when he broke the clavicle and left arm of another child one Lawrence Crock, star athlete of the school they were in and nearly eight years older than Scott at the time who had given Alex a black eye earlier that day for stepping on his new shoes. Due to this Major Summers came up with an idea to take the family on an accident retreat on a ‘family vacation’ so that all of them could bond and Scott could maybe calm down a little bit. But while Major Summers was flying them home in his personal pride and joy an old Hopfner HA-11/33 Seaplane.

Something happened in the sky that day, and whatever it was on a clear and perfect day that Hopfner came tumbling down through the sky alight with a raging fire. The fire had consumed all but one parachute which Scott’s parents give to him to use to save Alex and himself from immediate peril. Scott took his brother’s hand and jumped falling through the sky and coming crashing towards the earth. The latch on the parachute was stuck, Alex was screaming and crying. Scott didn't want to die, he couldn't die. Then it happened suddenly with a scream of frustration beams of flared from his eyes as his vision turned red. He lost consciousness soon afterwards but it was enough to slow down the Summer brother's descent into the blue expanse of the Pacific below them. It was Alex that managed to pull them both atop a piece of wreckage from the plane. They were found two days later by Search and Rescue, their parents were never found.

Scott awoke in the middle of the night the next day in a hospital in Queen Medical Center in Star City, it all seemed like a nightmare but then the doctors told him what happened and it all came crashing down. He couldn't control the anger the next time it happened, he felt the sharp pain in his head again and the terrible burning sensation and before he knew what was happening he had punched a hole straight through the roof of the hospital. Six people died and Scott quickly fell back into a deep sleep. He would awake a year later in the State Home for Foundlings a place where he was tested on by the sinister Nathaniel Essex. Essex placed mental blocks on Scott and took on the role of "Lefty", who was Scott's roommate and bullied him at the orphanage. Sinister intervened any time anyone came close to adopting Scott.

As a teenager Scott began to suffer from severe headaches and he was sent to a specialist , who provided him with lenses made of ruby-quartz. Soon after, Scott's mutant power erupted from his eyes once again after getting in a argument with Lefty. It ended up tearing a hole through the wall in the Home for Foundlings and he escaped running away into the night. Scott’s powers would continue to erupt in erratic bursts as he became a walking time bomb leaving only destruction and death in his wake. After spending a period of half a year under the tutelage of Jack Winters another mutant who became Scott’s adoptive father while using his powers to aid in his own crime sprees. It was then that Professor Xavier found him with the help of one Fred Duncan. Xavier and Duncan chased Winters and Scott back to Winter’s hideout and with Xavier’s help Scott was able to shake off the grip that his adoptive father had put on him and break the man of diamonds into floating shards.

From that point onward Scott became the ‘first X-Men’, the first of many young mutants to be taught under Professor Xavier. Xavier taught Scott how to at least control his powers enough so that a modified version of Essex’s ruby-quartz lenses could contain his powers. Slowly over time their little family grew and they did great things, they became a team. For a time Scott was even happy. But of course things couldn't stay that way things could never stay that way.

It was supposed to simple, they were supposed to stop the Brotherhood and things were going to go to normal. But it was never that simple, Warren was killed in the crossfire and Magento deflected one of Scott’s blasts into a nearby High School killing over fifty students within. The world was already against Mutants but at that moment the world decided that Cyclops was worse than any normal mutant. His friends tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault but he didn’t listen. He became more reckless, more foolhardy, more angry. He fought with Jean more about things that seemed stupid now and that fell apart as quickly as it began. In the End Scott Summers couldn't handle the pressure, the pressure of being the leader, the hero and Scott broke.

He left in the middle of the night two months after the incident. He tried to sneak out but of course Xavier was already waiting at the door. The Professor that had become yet another adoptive father for Scott did not stop his first student from leaving but only wished that he found what he was looking for and with that Scott vanished off the grid. He hasn’t been seen since.

///Redacted Information
-LEXCORP Intelligence Report /// /rs.100023451
A mysterious individual with impressive optical powers matching the description of one Scott Summers has been spotted in several small towns within Northern Canada and Alaska. Subject appears docile and aimless wandering from point to point without purpose. Recommended further investigation.


Supporting Cast:
Professor Charles Xavier:
Professor Xavier was Scott’s third and hopefully last father figure in his life and the only one that really stuck. Scott owes an unpayable debt to the man but not even that stop Scott from leaving the X-men behind. Before he left Scott and Xavier had been getting into more and more fights as of late as Scott’s more brash and hotheaded was leading him down a self-destructive path.

Jean Gray:
Jean was one of the first people to actually treat Scott like a human being and in return he fell head over halls for her slowly of course. But that was a long time ago and a lot can happen. They broke up in the aftermath of the incident, they were both tired and angry and so the fire raged. They got over it and the friendship remains and there were times afterwards that sparks flickered from the embers but only sparks and any kindling was long since drowned in sorrow. He didn't say goodbye before he left, he left a note if you can call a post-it with the words Sorry on her door, a note.

Piotr Rasputin:
Scott had many one on one talks with the groundskeeper of the School turned X-Man. They drank and they joked usually in large amounts together. Scott left a bottle of vodka on the desk in his office before he left, a small thank you note.

Alex Summers:
Scott's younger brother, has not been seen since the plane crash though Scott has a feeling he is out there somewhere.

Nathaniel Essex:
Better known as Mister Sinister the evil mastermind and genetics has always had an eye on Scott fascinated with the power that the boy possessed ever since he blew the roof off of that hospital all those years ago.

Emma Frost
A strange blond haired woman who has been haunting Scott during his sabbatical. Scott finds her terribly annoying. Though she seems to have taken a keen interest in Scott for reasons that are not yet known.

How (if at all) does the New Frontier version of your character differ from the original?:

Ah Cyclops, a man that embodies unattainable ideals: idealized love, idealized comradeship, selfless altruism in trying to serve the world. A man that is so often crushed beneath the weight of these ideals. I’ve always found the leaders to be the most interesting ones, the ones that when push comes to shove have to put their foot down and do what needs to be done in service of the world. To be a person like that you have to be a little bit narcissistic I think, be at least somewhat full of yourself. But at their best they are the pinnacle of humanity, of life as we know it and it their worst all the traits that make them strong and powerful are the ones that drag them down. It’s that dichotomy that I would like to explore.

Scott here is a little bit more broken than his other incarnations tired and broken over the deaths that he had caused and the deaths that he could not prevent. He is tired of the world placing its hopes and dreams upon his shoulders, he's tired of living basically. At the start he is an alcoholic in Alaska running away from his problems having not had communication with the X-men for months if not a few years by this point. If my Thanos story is about a general, a leader in his prime then Scott’s is the parallel to that he is basically still just a kid trying to figure out what being the leader means, having to learn to take responsibility and move forward. He’s going to figure it out maybe not quickly and maybe not easily but he is going to figure it out.

Post Sample:
I do things, you know those things. A sample post may come eventually
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