Little Bill

Of Mice and Men and Zombies (Accepting!)

Of Mice and Men and Zombies

<sub>The year is 1934. Franklin D. Roosevelt is president, Flash Gordon has recently been published, and Bran Flakes remain America's favorite breakfast cereal. The Great Depression has sent scores of the unemployed travelling across the country in search of work, filling factories and farms with all sorts of drifters, from former stockbrokers to former bootleggers.

In a small town in coastal Maine, a strain of rabies has mutated into a virus that robs men of their humanity, and turns them into mindless predators with a biological imperative to spread the infection and consume the flesh of the uninfected above all else. This virus is known as "The Red Plague", named for the distinctly red sclera of the infected caused by internal hemorrhaging that takes place during the initial infection.

Our story follows the farmhands of The Tackett Farmstead, and those they encounter.</sub>

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The Setting

Our story takes place in the fictional town of Eastport, Maine. Eastport is a quiet town with few tourist traps or frivolities; Aside from homes, the town has a general store, a bar, a one-room schoolhouse, a doctor's office, a seafood market, and a sheriff's department. It is surrounded on all sides by thick forests, with one paved road to the highway that takes travelers to Portland, which is 30 miles south. Beyond the forests, the town's eastern coast has a craggy gravel beach.

The Tackett Farmstead is about 5 miles north of Eastport, and is owned by, unsurprisingly, Farmer Tackett. The farmstead has three barns -- One is used for stables and storage, while the other two are used as segregated bunkhouses. The Colored Barn is an unpainted grey barn with a rusting roof and sun-bleached cow's skull hung over the barn doors, while The White Barn is red, with a wooden barnstar hung over the doors. Though Farmer Tackett insists on keeping the two separate, the two buildings are mostly called "The Grey Barn" or "The Red Barn", and farmhands of all races can usually be found in either one -- Thirty men live in The Grey Barn, while twenty live in The Red Barn.

The farmhouse is a three story colonial house, painted white with blue shingles and shutters, with a porch wrapping around the building. The Farmer lives here with his wife and daughter, as well as the farmhouse workers, ten women who live in a bunkhouse in the attic, who do the cooking and cleaning on the farm. To stop any "Unmarried Fraternizing", Farmer Tackett is known to fire the men he finds near the farmhouse worker's quarters.

The farm is 30 acres, surrounded on all sides by trees, though there is a buffer of waist-high grass between the farmland and the untamed brush, along with a stone fence wrapping around the property. There is a small pig barn with ten pigs, a goat barn with a single goat, and a chicken coop with roughly thirty chickens that mostly roam around the farmstead, coming back to roost in the night. There are two horses in the animal barn, named Blackie and Brownie, although they are rarely taken out.

Though the farm keeps animals, they are mostly consumed by The Tacketts or sold at county fairs -- Nearly all of the money made by the farm is through agriculture. The farm has a cornfield, as well as five gardens and a small cluster of beehives used for honey.

The Infected

Rhabdoviridae Hematemesis, colloquially known as "The Red Plague", is a highly mutated, hyperaggresive strain of rabies. The first cases being deer, the beginning of the outbreak started with reports of extremely aggressive stags charging at hunters. Originally assumed to be the actions of injured or starving deer, little was done in response by authorities. After about a month of inactivity, reports around Maine started coming in rapidly of riots and grisly murders, all centered around hunting communities.

The virus enters the circulatory system and is quick to manifest itself into the victim, causing symptoms within minutes and full infiltration within an hour. As the virus infiltrates the host, they experience a spasmodic effect. Shaking and or shuddering of the outer extremities in a rapid manner. Following that, seizures and frothing of the mouth will occur as symptoms progress. Copious amounts of infected blood is continually gibbered out of the due to internal hemorrhaging. The last stage is known as "turning", wherein a victim's eyes turn red shortly before suffering a stroke. After victims regain consciousness, they retain only a minimal amount of brain use, and have the same mental capacity as a fairly intelligent chimpanzee.

The Red Plague causes its hosts to permanently enter a primal state of murderous rage with a biological imperative to spread the infection or kill the uninfected and consume their flesh above all else. The infected are reduced to an animalistic state of permanent hostility and aggression, driving them to attack non-infected with no concern for their own safety and no moral inhibitions that could control their actions and behavior. The infected retain the ability to use primitive tools such as sticks and rocks, and can conceptualize simple plans if given enough time.

Adrenaline is constantly being produced and utilized by the infected body, as even days after the change, an infected specimen can perform display extraordinary feats of strength, agility, endurance (especially in pursuit of the uninfected), and ignore wounds such as stabbing, explosive amputation of limbs and even immolation.

While the infected will attempt to bite their victims, it is usually as a means of either infecting or killing them, often by biting into the main arteries in their neck. The infected do not consume each other, and can recognize (and will readily eat) any and all edible food from canned goods to wild animals. Since infected specimens are still living human beings, they can be killed using means that are fatal to uninfected, though they will ignore any wounds that are not immediately fatal such as decapitation or destruction of the brain.

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If any of this has your attention, come check out the OOC thread!

Closed

I'M STILL WORKING I SWEAR. Sorry. New job is kicking my ass. CS should be up by tomorrow.

Closed

Reserving a post here because I haven't said anything in the Interest Check for a while. How're you guys doing?
The Character Sheet is in the WIP stage for now, but send me a PM if you want your character to have a preestablished friendship/bad encounter/any kind of relationship with my character who I still haven't named because i procrastinate. Otherwise, they'll start off as strangers.

A Long-Lasting Naruto RP.

Interested! PM'd you as well.

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

Mark Emerson & Lihua Vuhong

---

Just as Agent Vuhong ordered, Winged Metahumans from all over Verthaven were brought in for questioning. They couldn't get all of them in at once on such short notice, but they managed to get quite a few. Right now, the Agents were cycling through the suspects, and questioning them of where they were during the time of the kidnapping, and for Lihua to get a good look at them.

Lihua was standing behind the mirror of the questioning room, leaning up on a hand up against the wall. She was watching fervorously. The current suspect they were interviewing, was a short-girl with white angelic wings... Definitely wasn't the guy. She's too small to be him. Lihua let out a sigh, before she put her fingers on her earpiece, "She isn't the one. Too small. Let her go." Lihua said. At this rate, we'll never get Lijuan back. She thought to herself. She knew that the man that took her was most likely hiding by now. NEST Agents are also on hyper-vigilance mode, scanning the area for the man, or anyone else who was in the area.

The NEST Agent nodded his head, before telling the girl that she could go. She stretched her wings before she walked out the door.

"Heard what happened with your daughter." Maximilian said as he walked up, stopping right at Lihua's side. He didn't get a reaction from her. "I'm wondering if this is part of a bigger ploy..." He trailed off. "Because... who would kidnap a NEST Agent's daughter's - especially as high-ranking as yourself?" He asked.

"A fool." Lihua blankly replies. "They best realize I'm coming for her."

Max put his hand up. "Take it easy, Agent Vuhong." He warned her. "Don't get hasty. You'll play right into their hands."

Lihua loudly groaned. People think they're being helpful by telling her that. How can she? Monsters are out there, and clawing for her only two children. Only in this case, Lijuan doesn't even have the tools necessary to defend herself.

"I'll be fine, Cornell." Lihua said. "Just let me handle this."

"This is a NEST matter, you know?" Maximilian said. "The Changeling Unit are a national problem that has been plaguing Metahumans for decades now."

Lihua looked at him blankly.

"And what is one of NEST's goals?" Maximilian asked.

"... The safety of all Metahumans." Lihua groaned.

"Exactly." Maximilian said. "So, don't you think about doing this alone."

My responsibility, and mine alone. Lihua ran the thoughts through her head.

The next person was lead into the room, and Lihua's eyes immediately narrowed her eyes. That build.... those wings.... Lihua thought to herself. Her sharp eyes scanned him during their brief encounter. Just for a situation like this. She could just picture him in the armor. Her finger immediately went to her ear-piece,

"You can sit this one out." She said, "I'll handle this one."

---

Mark was nervous. He was an actor, and he played his part well, wore his mask well, but he was still nervous underneath it all. He had every right to be. He had rare hiccups at work in the past, as far as being shot at or pursued by car, but those were all nobodies. But last night's job wasn't some nobody.

Aside from worrying about maintaining his illusion of harmlessness, he also had to worry about the cyanide capsule tucked under his tongue. It scared him when he thought about it, and so, he tried not to. If worst came to worst, Mark was prepared to break it with a quick bite. It wasn't out of care for his coworkers or The Changeling Unit, but for his daughter. He would've preferred she be raised in foster care rather than risk her knowing his identity.

"Emerson, Mark." A stern looking man with a haircut and demeanor that only could've been supplied by the military opened a door at the end of the room, holding a clipboard. Mark stood up, sheepishly waving. He wore a pair of old grey jeans, brown work boots, a slightly oversized fisherman's sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a banana sticker strategically placed on his forearm where it would be the most visible.

He had purposefully cut himself shaving that morning on his neck and chin, covering two spots with circular bandaids just barely too dark to match his skin. He wore a costume, and it was the same one he always wore when dealing with NEST. The idiot costume..

He had to be careful not to overplay it, though he had no problem with that. He was a careful man by nature, which was how he managed to keep his job for so long. Every minute detail of his appearance, down to his walk, was kept in mind. He appeared exactly as he wanted to appear -- A harmless, forest-squatting simpleton.

Alright Mark. Showtime. He thought to himself. Mark slumped his shoulders a bit, and unfocused his normally steely gaze.

"I forgot to go earlier. Can I go take a leak really quick?"

The military man looked at him with the dour austerity of a Cigar store Indian. "No."

Mark shrugged, and walked into the room with his hands in his pockets.

---

Normally, Lihua wouldn't be caught at work in such an... improper outfit. Yet, she had no choice. Situation called that she immediately head to the NEST Headquarters, and that's exactly what she did. Lihua stepped inside the room wearing the same outfit as before (A tank-top, grey sweatpants, and sandals. Of course she had her bra and underwear on). Her gun was tucked into her waistband. She slowly slid into the chair, and politely wrapped her hands on the table.

"Hello-" You worthless bastard. "Can you tell me your name?" Lihua was doing a great job in containing herself. She always has, and always will.

"Howdy! Mark Emerson." Mark said with a dopey smile. He was a charming man, but he couldn't be charming. To have charm would mean that he possessed at least a certain level of intellect, and to show that he was smart could mean suspicion. It was safer to be a yokel than charismatic for now.

Mark Emerson. She was wondering where Agent Vahan was. He could easily solve this problem. Lihua let out a sigh, and realized that she'll have to do this herself. "I'll have to ask where you were at 3:10 PM."

"3:10 yesterday?" Mark paused for a moment. "I was out in my garden with my little girl yesterday 'till about four, I'd say." He nodded to himself. Technically, that was what he was doing, and so it rolled off the tongue just a little bit more naturally.

"Anyone to corroborate your story?" Lihua asked.

Mark shrugged. "My little Marigold, but she's at school right now. Homeschool though, so it doesn't matter too much if she plays a little hookie." He said, leaning back into his chair. Though he was sweating bullets, he was maintaining his illusion expertly so far.

This bastard's just toying with her. He was sweating heavily, meaning he's worried about something. She was ready to pull her Glock out of her waistband, and then make him tell her everything he knows.

A man humming a song softly into her comms distracted her momentarily.

She put her fingers to her comm piece to say something, but Maximilian beat her to it.

"Agent Vahan, now isn't the time." Cornell said into the comms.

Leon started walking up, his trench coat flowing with every step, and his sunglasses shined the second he stepped into the room. He looked around, and saw Maximilian looking at him. "Hey, what the hell is going on? I was taking a piss." He threw a thumb over his shoulder.

"Agent Vuhong is questioning this man... I believe she has a hunch." Max put his hand on his chin.

"Oh, lemme get to that." Leon smirked. His swirling white eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses, started glowing. He started literally peeking into the man's head, and surprise, surprise, he was putting on a ruse. They got their man. He was the Changeling behind the kidnapping of Lijuan Vuhong. He pulled out of his mind.

He put his fingers to his earpiece - but quickly took them off. He turned his head to Maximilian, and asked him, "He's our guy... but I don't think that telling her this with him in there is, you know, the best idea." He used his ability to observe to spot the gun tucked into Lihua's pants.

Maximilian put his hand on his chin, as he thought about it. "Hmmm... Go for it. I trust Agent Vuhong on this matter."

Leon let out a sigh, and quietly muttered, "You're the boss-man." Before he put his fingers on the earpiece. "Agent Vuhong, I peaked into his head... He's our guy. I'll leave it up to you... but keep your cool. Remember that."

Just the words that Lihua wanted to hear. She just wanted some confirmation. She smirked. Before she came out and said it, "You best drop the ruse. We know who you are, and you're just the man we want." Her hand drifted towards her gun, but she pulled away. No need. He'd get his ass kicked by Maximilian and every NEST Agent in the building should he attempt to leave. All Lihua was feeling was rage. Nothing. But. Rage. However, she controlled herself. Direct that rage in a healthy form.

She tapped her fingernail onto the table, and said, forboding as possible, "Tell me what you did with my daughter this instant."

Mark paused for a moment, his adrenaline kicking into overdrive. He knew that NEST had powerful telepaths, and her assured attitude could only mean one thing -- They were prying into his mind.

Delicately rolling the capsule with his teeth, Mark's eyes darted around, looking for any escape. The window behind Lihua was caged, and the man who let him into the room was likely armed. He could shout, stun her, and make an escape through the front door while she was on the ground, then grab Marigold at the house, and...

Mark's normally fast-paced decision making skills sputtered. How long could he run? And to where? Even if he managed to escape, he had no friends to hide out with, and no place he knew he'd be safe. He probably wouldn't be able to get to the woods without being shot down by some marksman agent on the roof or something.

He realized that his moment to think had become a long, incriminating pause. He exhaled deeply. No matter the outcome, life was about to get a lot more difficult.

Mark sank into his chair, dropping his dopey farmboy smile, settling into his normal face. He didn't look sinister or proud, but tired.

"Don't suppose you NEST types would be willing to bargain?" His half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood did him little good.

There was no amount of training or discipline that could restrain Lihua. She immediately stood straight up, and whipped her glock out of her waistband. She pressed it up against Mark's skull, and pulled the trigger halfway.

"I told you to tell me where my daughter was - Do you fucking get that?!" Lihua roared. "Tell me where she is, or I kill you right here, right now. That is your only bargain."

Mark eyed her without moving. To an extent, he knew what she was going through.

"If you have a way to get information from my corpse, go right ahead." He gritted his teeth, but his tone was neither threatening nor gloating.

Lihua pushed the gun against his head even harder. "You're right. I'll just make this a lot more painful than it should, dog."

A massive shadow appeared behind Lihua, and before she could even react Echo, Maximilian's power manisfesting in a golden-tinted copy of Maximilian, grabbed the gun at lightning speeds and yanked it out of her hand.

"Agent Vuhong, that is enough." Max said through the comms. "Control yourself, or I'm pulling you out." He should pull her out right now, but he knew that, if Agent Vuhong controls herself, she could get information.

"... Told you." Leon said, off-the-comms. His hand went to the earpiece, and he informed Lihua of a little fact he found out, "He's got an L-pill in his mouth. You won't get anywhere if he's dead, so just relax."

With Echo holding her gun, and standing over her, there was nothing that Lihua could use to threaten Mark with. Not with Maximilian snatching it out of her hands, or breaking it. Lihua let out a sigh, and with her eyes closed, she plopped right back down on the chair. And started taking deep breaths in, and then out. Find your zen, Lihua. She was calming herself down. She felt literally no threat than this man.

"If you're willing to talk, I can at least tell you she's not dead or anything like that." Mark said in a genuinely sympathetic tone.

Lihua groaned. "That's swell... but you know exactly what I want to know." Lihua growled at him.

Mark rocked his hand with a pained expression, gesturing that he didn't know everything.

"The Changeling Unit is pretty secretive, even with their own members." He cleared his throat, and leaned forward. "I suppose I should give out the list of demands before I rat out all the others, eh?"

He gave her another half-hearted smile, hoping she'd at least chuckle. She didn't. He knew she didn't find him funny, but he wanted desperately to convey that he wasn't a bad guy.

"What do you want...?" Lihua had to ask. "Let me tell you that you're not in the position to be making any demands. In case you forgot, you're in one of the most secure locations in all of California. Full of people trained to put down dogs like you." Lihua grit her teeth, and tapped her fingernail on the table.

Mark shrugged sheepishly. "That's all true, but I'm still the one with the kill pill." He cleared his throat again, cracking his knuckles nervously.

"First and foremost, I want my daughter far away from this. I don't want her to hear about it, I don't want her shipped off to some NEST boarding home, I don't want her sent back to her mother's." The demands he made were the first things he had said with any hint of anger or forcefulness.

"Secondly, I want to stay with her. Put an ankle bracelet on me, have cameras at my house, give me one of those collars," He threw up his hands. "Whatever. Clip my wings if you have to. I just want to be with my kid. We want the same things, okay? You let me stay with Marigold, and I'll start talking."

When he said "we want the same things", Lihua sneered.

"Agent Vuhong," Lihua's comms came alive with Leon's voice, "If you could get the rest of the Changelings out of him. If we rescue your daughter, and take out some Changelings, ain't that a win-win?"

"I agree with Agent Vahan." Maximilian said. "You need to see the bigger picture here."

Like hell I'm going to let this bastard get away with breaking into my home, attacking me, and kidnapping my infant daughter, so he can get off with a slap on his wrist. Lihua thought to herself when she heard his demands, and when her fellow Agents agreed to go along with it. Lihua dragged her nails along the tabletop, and got wood clipping underneath her nails. If it was up to her, she would be torturing this man until she broke him, and he'd do anything to make it up.

"Very well..." Lihua sighed. Seeming (and reluctantly) going along with it. "We, at NEST, accept your terms and conditions..."

However, there was another thing she wanted to add.

Lihua quickly pointed her hand at the mirror, and closed her hands. Concrete spikes appeared from the floors and ceiling and completely covered the mirror. She quickly pointed her hand at the camera, and did the same. Then she covered the door in concrete.

"Agent Vuhong!? What are you doing?!" Maximilian shouted through the comms - only to get ignored by Lihua. This is a problem, he can't see through Echo, and was essentially blocked off from controlling him. She could do anything she wanted to Mark, and they'd standing here with thumbs up their ass.

She leaned into on the table, and stared Mark right into the eyes.

"I know that you're willing to say anything to... say, secure your freedom, but there's that nagging feeling in the back of my skull that's telling me that this is one big trap for me and NEST. That you bastards had killed Lijuan ages ago, and this is apart of some scheme to remove one of the biggest threats NEST has to offer." Lihua started off.

"You said that you had a daughter? Marigold, you said her name was?" Lihua asked him. "Say... maybe if this is a trap, or Lijuan doesn't get out alive. I'm not going to go for you... I'm going straight for her."

Lihua let the words hang out in the air. So Mark could absorb them. "I promise you, no matter where you hide her, I will find her, and butcher her like the bitch she is. There won't be anything left for you to recognize. And, I can get away with it. You know what my job is? Uncovering crimes, and solving murders. I know exactly how to cover my tracks, and make it hard to track back to me as possible. Or you may not even find her for months after what happened. And I won't even scratch you. I'll let you suffer, just as I would."

Lihua leaned back in her chair. and raised her fist in the air, and opened it. All the concrete barriers she had created had disappeared without a trace. She calmly folded her hands on the table, and asked him, "So, your choice."

Lihua didn't exactly mean it. It was nothing more than a bluff (If anything, she'd help his daughter. Help her get away from him). She was attempting to ensure his compliance the only way she knew how.

With fear.

It was still very underhanded, and cruel, and she knew that. Threatening a man's daughter. Lihua had an ability that very few people had. It wasn't a superpower - but the ability to detach herself from her humanity. Because she's long realized that, with all her sins, she's never going to be able to redeem herself.

She was a demon of her own creation.

Mark's eyes were closed, as if he was still processing everything she had said. He knew what she was going through, he empathized with her, but even then, he had buttons to push just like any other man. He drew a sharp breath, filling his lungs with air.

In her anger, Lihua had never put a power nullification collar on him. His lungs were full of air, and nothing was there to stop him from deafening her. He couldn't kill her, but the ability to permanently rob this woman of one of her senses became immediately apparent to him after hearing her threaten his daughter.

In the end, he chose not to.

He exhaled deeply, wondering if Lihua would ever understand the mercy he was granting her by trying to remain patient in spite of her threats. Instead, he tried a different approach. Though he opened his eyes, he kept his head lowered, focusing on questions he had asked himself many nights.

"Let me ask you something, Agent Vuhong. If something stood between you and your daughter, would you kill for her?"

"I'm considering it now."

Mark nodded. "What if the ante was upped a little? What about, say, arson? Would you burn a few strangers alive for your daughter?"

"... Of course."

"How about kidnapping?" Mark said, raising his head and staring into her eyes. "Hypothetically, if kidnapping a child would save yours, could you do it?"

"I'd find another way, one that wouldn't spread grief. It's what I always do."

"What if it wasn't there?" Mark asked, with a tone that was almost defensive. For the first time during the interview, Mark was neither collected, nor putting on a facade. His hands were in fists, but not raised, and he stared at her with intensity.

What? Was this dog trying to drag her down to his level? She almost considered getting her gun back from Echo, and blasting his head off for even trying.

"If there was no other way, could you do it?" He repeated.

"I couldn't." Lihua hissed at him. She wasn't being true to herself, she knew that she'd definitely do it if there was no other choice. But, like hell that she's getting dragged down with this childish reasoning.

"I could.." Mark said coldly. His words seemed to resonate in the small room, carrying a great weight with them. Lihua was too angry to see, but it was very apparent to those watching the situation unfold through the camera, that Mark was not bragging. He was confessing, and his words carried a deep, hollow sadness to them. His hands unclenched, and he sank into his seat.

There was a long pause before Mark spoke up.

"You ever see a level ten metahuman?"

"Yes. I... have seen many Metahumans." Lihua replied, her guard was up, and she wasn't going to fall for any tricks. Her days as a member of the Gai Hexin Yuan truly was something that haunts her. It's scary how powerful Metahumans can get, and what happens if they lose control.

Or have that control, and decide to burn it all.

"I've only ever seen one, and it's my daughter. She's not registered, though. That'll probably happen soon, I guess." He leaned forward, chewing on a fingernail. "She has these, these..." He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"Her eyes bug out, and blood comes out of, of everywhere, really." He exhaled again, hoping to regain his normal composure.

"Her power is harmful to her." Lihua blankly answered. What a sob story. She was keeping herself composed as possible - because she knew that she had dug her own grave with that stunt back there. Maybe... she should control herself better.

Mark nodded, but offered no response. "She has these seizures, basically. I don't know how to explain it as well as what I was told by the folks who make her medicine. They're at The Hands of Science.

Now he's associated with the Hands of Science, too? Made sense at this point. This better be going somewhere, other than trying to elect sympathy from her. She remained stone-faced the whole time.

Though Lihua's expression remained unchanged, Mark could tell she was now more interested in what he had to say.

"I'll tell you about them too, just, let me explain myself a bit. This is the first chance I've gotten to talk to someone about it, so let me at least explain why I do, you know. What I do. I'm getting somewhere with this."

Everyone had their reasons for being who they are. Lihua at least acknowledged that. The Gai Hexin Yuan turned her into a monster. while America and motherhood has certainly... mellowed her out.

"So, Marigold has these seizures sometimes. She doesn't normally have telekinesis, but she does when she's having an episode. She's only ever had one fit I couldn't control, and that was before I knew what was wrong with her, and before I knew how to get her medicine." He paused again, shifting the cyanide pill uncomfortably in his mouth.

Mark pulled out his phone, oblivious to any rules against it, thumbing through bookmarks. "It's not a pretty picture. Take a look." He remarked, sliding his phone to her.

It was an article on a Colorado newspaper. There was a before and after picture -- On the left, there was a Google Maps photo of the rustic cottage Mark and Marigold lived in before their move to Verthaven. On the right was the "after". It seemed as if a bomb had been dropped. The cottage itself had been reduced to the foundation, and the forest of trees behind it ripped from the earth. The few trees still remaining had been shredded, missing large branches and chunks of bark.

She ignored regulation, just for a second. Just to humor him. She leaned in and read the article. Hm. She's a dangerous Metahuman if she's capable of all this destruction. Which meant more reason to take her out of his hands.

"Obviously, it wasn't an explosion. When she has these fits, her brain sends out these waves that just tear everything to shreds. Everything." Mark said, watching her scroll through the article.

"Like she's flinging thousands of invisible buzzsaws in every direction." He explained. "Nobody knew what to do. Power suppressant collars were like chemo to her. Nobody knew why, but she would start withering away if she so much as got near one."

He straightened his back, continuing "So, a member of The Hands of Science tells me there's a way to keep her from living her life as a time bomb, and keep her from dying, and stop her fits altogether. Every time she starts to have a fit, I give her a shot, and her seizure goes away." He accentuated his remark with a loud snap of his fingers. "Gone. Just like that."

He leaned back in his chair, sighing with exasperation.

"Care to guess how much a dose is?" He asked sarcastically, as if the two were soccer moms complaining about the price of gas. "Two hundred thousand dollars." His words were without a hint of humor. "When they told me about the price, they explained there was an easy way someone with my abilities could get that kind of money.

"This explains your actions." Lihua said to him with sharp eyes. "But it doesn't justify them." She was quick to add on, just so Mark wouldn't lose track. "No matter how hard things were, you have to remember that nobody forced you to do so. Far as I can tell, there wasn't a single gun to your head...."

"Just because I wasn't being held up by a highwayman doesn't mean I had any more of a choice." Mark replied. "I'm not justifying what I do, I'm just justifying who I am. And that's a guy who's had to do some fucked up things for his kid, who I'd appreciate that you not threaten."

"I'm just making sure you recognize personal accountability, and all." Lihua shrugged.

Mark closed his eyes and nodded, letting go of the last bits of anger he still held on to.

"Now that I've got that out of the way, I hope you can understand that I'm not the guy you should be pointing a gun at."

"Very well," Lihua folded her hands on the table. "Help us find them, and maybe you'll begin your own path to redemption."

Mark nodded again, trying to think of something that would be useful to her. "My boss is called Heartbreaker."

"Heartbreaker...." Lihua groaned. "I know of her. Natalie, her name is. She's on the NEST wanted list."

She folded her hands on the table.

"I'd like to know where she is. I want to meet her in person."

"I can bring you to her in less than an hour if you want. But she won't be alone."

"... And neither will I."

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

@UrbanEvolution "You've got a daughter. I've got a daughter. We've already got so much in common."

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

---

Mark Emerson & Lihua Vuhong

Written in collaboration with @Mr Allen J

---

Mark's footsteps were completely silent as he crept into the cellar. It was a dark, dank room with little room for a grown man to stand, much less a man with a wingspan. The brick walls were covered with cobwebs and dust, and a small leak in the ceiling made the unlit room smell strongly of stagnant water and mold. The floor was a pale wood, covered in layers of old newspaper and grime. This wasn't out of a lack of organization, but to hide an entrance from any prying eyes.

With a grunt, Mark pulled a heavy wooden slab from the floor -- One that would've matched the rest of the dark basement perfectly save for a small space for his fingers to lift the trap door up. There was a ladder underneath it, but not one of the wooden ladders he kept in the house. It was steel, and bolted into the ground, down a long tunnel just barely wide enough for Mark to squeeze through. He sighed for a moment, looking down the pitch black hole. He quickly made his way down to the bottom of the ladder into a small room with an equally sturdy looking metal door. It was a dull grey steel, with large bolts reenforcing the frame. There was no knob or handle where there should've been, only a keypad.

"One two, two eight." Mark repeated to himself as he dialed the small black buttons. It was a date. Marigold's birthday, to be precise. After a moment of mechanical whirring, the keypad gave off a satisfying beep, and the door began to slide open with a hiss.

The room was different from any room in the house. The walls were plain white, while the ceilings were covered in unnatural flourescent light. One one wall, a row of screens showed Mark every room in the house, while another wall held a display case of several different kinds of grenades, pistols, and rifles. At the end of the room, there was a container not unlike a steel wardrobe or an industrial refrigerator, with another keypad. This combination would not be his daughter's birthday. Mark quickly walked through the cold room, and pressed his hand to the keypad.

"Zero zero one, zero zero one, zero one, zero zero one, zero zero one, zero one." He repeated to himself as he pressed the keys. This keypad had no beep noise, nor did the doors hiss. They unlocked silently, and Mark pulled the doors open gingerly, as if he were hesitating.

The suit was on a mannequin made of shiny metal, which shone in spots of exposure underneath the jet black suit. What was menacing wasn't the suit by any means, but the helmet. Cold grey steel, with blank, emotionless yellow eyes that hid his own.

Mark paused for a second to stare into the mask, as if to say something, before exhaling deeply. He lifted it off the mannequin, rotated it, and put it on, clicking a dial on the inner lining to turn on the rebreather. The rest of the suit took little time to put on, save for the zippers and clips around Mark's wings. When he was done, he left the room as quickly and silently as he entered it, making sure to not look at any of the reflective surfaces in the room.

---

Hundreds of feet into the air, Mark's suit in the night sky made him little more than a shadow, lingering along the horizon. Though he was nearly impossible to see, Mark could see the ground below him with relative ease -- Most importantly, the house below him.

114 Oxford Road, Central Valley. The Vuhong residence.

He dipped down, folding his wings into a shape not unlike a paper airplane, descending with a speed that would have made him whistle if not for the aerodynamic suit. Within seconds, he landed on the roof silently, perching like a gargoyle above a small window. He took a breath, and vaulted over the side, clinging onto the roof with one hand, while he used the other to steady himself on the window's frame.

The room he peered into was silent, save for the nearly inaudible snore eminating from a crib. Mark placed one hand onto the glass of the window itself, pulling out a small metal device that looked like a high-tech colander. He pressed it into the window until the suction gave off a small "pop", and then twisted the device slowly. Sure enough, a glass circle big enough for Mark to fit his arm through slid off with ease.

He delicately placed it by his feet as he reached in, unlocking the window. After a few moments of struggling with the latch, he slid the window open without a sound, and crawled in. He stood silently for a second, as if he had come out of a child's nightmare. A tall shadowy figure with jet black wings, creeping in through a window, almost like the boogeyman stories he would tell his daughter.

Mark took in one deep breath, and walked towards the crib. Inside lay a small bundle, cooing and gurgling in the midst of slumber. He reached in, and gently pulled the baby from its pillow, holding it tightly to his chest. He looked at it for a moment, examining it's face.

"Forgive me one day." He remarked in his head. It would've been too risky to even whisper.

Mark was gentle, but not as gentle as he needed to be. The infant's eyes slowly opened as Mark looked into her face. Half-asleep, seeing the odd man holding her (Which looked like a demon to her) made her wake right up. She immediately started crying loudly, as she tried to wrestle out of his grasp.

From the sofa downstairs, Lihua was merely lounging, passing time while watching television. She let out a yawn, as she gently put her head down on the side of the sofa. The second she heard Lijuan's cries, she quickly raised her head right back up. The first thought that ran through her head was Lijuan was awake. The second thought was that her cries were... different. She could hear a bit of fear in her infant's voice. Something wasn't right here. Lihua immediately reached in between the sofa cushions, and pulled her Glock 17 - which she had stuffed in between them - out, holding it tightly.

She put her bare feet to the carpet, before standing straight up. She took slow, but hurried, steps up the stairs. Going slow enough to make sure that she doesn't alert any intruders. Meifeng constantly talked about her being paranoid - but it's that paranoia that has kept the three of them alive, so she just brushed it off as the rest of the nonsense Meifeng spouts. The second her foot touched the top stair, she immediately pivoted down the hallway towards Lijuan's room. Holding the pistol at head level, ready to let loose a barrage.

When she approached Lijuan's room, the door was always kept slightly ajar (or at least Lihua kept it that way, she never really bothered to close it, and it just became a habit). She slowly pushed the door open, hoping that this would just be a false alarm. What Lihua saw made her heart sank.

A strange man in armor, and wings, holding Lijuan.

"... Put my child down or I'll put ten rounds in your skull faster than you can blink." The threat was spoken with cold fury, as Lihua narrowed her eyes, and aimed her pistol right at Mark's face. Pulling the trigger halfway. "... Five seconds, or you're dead."

Mark stood perfectly still for a moment, running through every possible escape plan in his mind. Considering the circumstances, Mark went with his last ditch option first. Under the steel rebreather, Mark opened his mouth, and shouted. Loudly.

It was the single most blood-curdling sound Lihua had ever heard, like a thousand nails scraping across a blackboard into a microphone. Paintings on the wall fell off from the vibration, and for a moment, Lihua heard only a feint ringing, accompanied by a sense of nausea and dizziness unlike anything she had ever felt.

Lihua was hesitant to shoot - because of the off chance that she might hit Lijuan. Which certainly worked in Mark's favor as he launched an attack that was literally the worst thing ever. She was knocked backwards, and fell onto her back. The gun she had hit the ground right next to her. The room was spinning - but like hell she'd let that stop her. Even with the pain, nausea, and dizziness, she wouldn't give up. Not when her child is in danger. She grabbed the gun, and tried to pick herself up. She stood straight up, she raised her head... but her heart sank immediately.

Mark spun back, flying out of the window like ink down a drain, clutching the screaming child closely with both hands. With a heave, Mark flapped his wings once, picking up speed, making his way towards the clouds.

No. No, no, no, no, no.... Lihua infinitely repeated the words in her head as she ran over to the window fast as possible. All she saw was him flying off with her daughter. The first instinct was to raise her gun at him, aiming for his spine, and pulled the trigger halfway. She let out a sigh as she released the trigger. It wouldn't do any good if she kills this man, and Lijuan dies in the fall. A tear ran down her eye as she clenched her fists. Slamming her foot onto the ground as she let out a cry of anger. She chucked the gun out the window, and it landed in the grass.

That bastard... Lijuan! The thoughts ran through her head as every emotion in the book whirled around inside of her. More tears were rushing down her eyes as she saw that man escape.

When logic overcame emotion, Lihua quickly turned around and ran down the stairs, going fast as she could back to the sofa. On the night table rested her iPhone, which she swiped away. She immediately dialed in the number for the special NEST hotline that'd go straight to the operators.

When they answered, she didn't even give them time to answer, "This is Agent Vuhong! My daughter has been kidnapped by what I believe to be the Changeling Unit. Track all movement in the Central Valley area at once." Lihua barked the orders into her phone. "The man is a Metahuman with wings, wearing all black armour, has a super sonic screech."

"And don't you dare stop until you find him!" Lihua quickly rushed out the door with keys in hand. When she stepped outside, she realized that she let Meifeng borrow the car. Lihua let out a sigh, before hanging her head. "... I need a ride to the NEST Headquarters."

"Auntie...." Mika walked up, eyes half opens, she was clearly half asleep. "What happened?"

"Mika, I need you to watch the house for a bit. Make sure that nobody comes in or out."

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

If anybody wants to find Mark on the beach, I'd say the post timeframe is the day of the charity ball, but y'know. A few hours before.

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

---

Mark Emerson

---

"Papa, you said we'd work in the garden today."

Marigold sat impatiently on the counter of a kitchen as her father washed dishes, nodding with her statement. Plants of all shapes and sizes lined a nearby window, which let in enough sunlight to keep the entire room well lit. Even with Mark's line of work, the Emerson home was surprisingly cozy. Brass pots and pans hung from the ceiling on hooks, and drawings covered every square inch of space on the refrigerator but the handle. Notches made with markers lined one edge of the wall, with tiny dates and height measurements next to them. The rooms smelled strongly of sage and cinnamon, and soft music played from a radio near the sink.

"I'm busy tonight, so I can't dig up the carrots with you, sweetpea." Mark polished off the last dish in the sink with a satisfying squeak, setting it on a rack. "Tell you what, sport." Mark said, flicking the last bits of water off of his fingers as he turned off the faucet. "Papa can't work with you in the garden today, but he can give you a quick fly around town. Sound fair?"

"Fair." Marigold said, sliding off the counter. Her red hair seemed all the more fiery in the sunlight, just like the flower she was named for. Her eyes were the same deep shade of brown as her father, though unlike Mark, she was covered in freckles. Before Mark got the chance to tell his daughter to wash up, his cell phone rang in his pocket, buzzing with impatience immediately. It was a ring unlike the usual Acoustic guitar -- Only one contact had three plain beeps.

"Go put away those sheets I mentioned earlier, then I'll meet you outside." Mark said, pulling out his phone. Marigold nodded happily, and ran down the hall.

Mark opened up his flip-phone, and leaned back on the counter. "Yellow?"

His smile quickly faded as he listened. "Tomorrow?" He pinched his lip nervously, looking out the window to his garden. Every now and then, Mark would confirm with a "Got it" or "Mhm", but the conversation was clearly one-sided. He was receiving orders, after all. After a long stretch of silence, Mark spoke up.

"Sounds risky. A day after their fundraiser, and we're in the news every minute. You hear the radio today?" He said in a hushed tone. "Not for that amount. Remember the Kerry kid? That was just some nobody's kid and I got seventy five. No way this one's only eighty."

"Papa, I'm gonna wait outside!" Marigold shouted down the hall.

"One fifty, and I'll have 'em from the crib to your arms in an hour." He paused for a second, before a silent fistpump. "You got it. I gotta run. Yeah." Mark impatiently sighed. "You don't have to worry about that. Alright. Bye."

He hung up the cell phone and jammed it into his pocket as quickly as he could, as if he carried something secret. Something bad.

"Be out in a minute, munchkin." Mark called out, stretching his wings.

---

Mark soared above Verthaven, with Marigold clinging tightly to his back. Slowly but surely, she was getting harder to carry, though Mark pretended not to notice. He liked that his daughter was still his little girl -- No doorslamming phase, no boyfriends, no hundred dollar makeups kits. They were high up enough that few people would notice them, and those who would would assume that Mark was simply a very large bird or a very small plane. His speed accounted for that.

Mark dipped down, pivoting his wings to catch the current, gliding quickly towards the ground. The two were closing in on the beach, or at least, the ocean by the beach. Within moments, Mark glided down close enough for Marigold to dip out her hand and touch the water as he flapped, slowing down as they neared the shore. They'd rest for a while before going back home. It'd give Mark a chance to rest, but more importantly, a chance for his daughter to tire herself out. "Go find a friend to play with. Meet me back here in twenty minutes."

"Thanks Papa" Marigold said, leaping off of his back onto the warm sand. Mark stood up, stretching his wings in the sunlight.

"Hey man!" A voice yelled a few yards away with him. Instinctively, Mark cleared his throat, ready to shout. Mark turned around, ready for a brigade of NEST agents. Instead, he found a man with a scraggly beard and long brown hair tied back with twine.

"Hey man, aren't you that guy who was on that bird show on the History Channel?" He asked eagerly.

A simple case of mistaken identity. Nothing to worry about.

"Ehh, sorry friend, my inglesh es not good. No hestory show, very sorry." He said with a slouch. Even though the man seemed harmless, Mark wasn't taking chances. What if he was a detective? What if he was a NEST agent? What if he was one of Mark's victims? There were too many factors for Mark to reply normally.

"Ah, alright, thanks man, sorry." The man said, turning around.

"Es alright, yes. Have good day."

Verthaven: Days of Rain ☔ [COMPLETED]

Mark Emerson

Basic Information

Name:

Mark Emerson

Nickname/Alias/Etc:

Blackbird

Gender:

Male

Age:

32

Height:

5'7

Weight:

150 lbs lbs

Home District:

Eastover Woods

Appearance

Hair Color:

Black

Eye Color:

Brown

Ethnicity:

Caucasian

Physical Appearance:

Mark was born with a truly unexceptional face -- Although he has fairly well-proportioned facial features, they're balanced a bony square face and ears that have been described as "monkey-like". Fortunately, Mark was also born with wings.
Aside from his metahuman features, Mark is fairly average looking, even somewhat nebbishy, although it's very difficult to tell how much of his appearance is genuine, and not part of his feigned feebleness. He trims his beard to a neat chinstrap, while his hair is unstyled and short. His skin is fairly tanned from his mostly outdoor life, with the occasional pale scar on his face or torso, which he attributes to bee stings and car accidents. He normally wears non-prescription glasses and walks with a relaxed slouch to ward off any suspicion of his identity.

Attire:

The biggest reflection of Mark's illusion of meekness is in his clothes -- When traveling publically, he mostly dresses in clothes that are either ill-fitting, stained, outdated, or a combination thereof. Although at home, he mostly wears casual clothing, with an affinity for outdoorsy vests, when reporting for checkups with NEST operatives our shopping in the city, he dresses badly, but not too badly. Usually this means shirts that are too small, pants that are too big, and intentional stains of ink or mustard.

As Blackbird, Mark wears a suit and mask specifically designed for him by a member of The Hands of Science. Although it carried a hefty price, the creation of his suit was by many means a feat of superscience. Made of leather, kevlar, and steel, his suit is aerodynamic and lightweight above all else, designed for allowing him quick escapes whenever needed.

The suit is made mostly from leather, though the torso is a bulletproof kevlar, with stabproof padding along the chest and shoulders. Made of a strong waterproof synthetic leather, it is also partially shock-resistant, with his closeness to lightning during high altitude flying taken in mind during construction. Mark's Blackbird suit carries a number of pouches and devices. Most notably on his sides, he carries a knife (Designed for cutting through nets rather than combat) and a device jammer, which interferes with the signals of all wireless devices within 30 feet of his person. In his belt he carries a smoke grenade, a canister of mustard gas, and a small satchel of tire spikes. The containers strapped to his chest are a first aid kit, a strobe light, a ready-to-eat meal, and a small set of burglar's tools.

The most notable part of his suit is what Mark refers to as "The Helmet", although it is technically the helmet's mouthpiece that is a feat of extraordinary engineering. Designed specifically for Mark, the mouthpiece of the Blackbird suit connects to tubing made from a synthetic alloy that channels the sonic vibrations of his shouts into concussive blasts of air, with the nozzle concealed in the palm of his suit's steel gauntlets. Although mostly used for taking out security cameras at a distance, or shattering glass and thin wood for a quick escape, the creator of the suit designed it for more lethal purposes. Namely, if Mark can form a seal around a victim's ears with his hands, channeling his loudest sonic shout through the suit's mouthpiece and out of his hands would instantly kill his victim, similarly to a bolt gun used in cattle slaughtering.

Personality

Innate & Outward Personality:

Only two words are needed to fairly summarize Mark -- Deeply troubled. Although his line of work is very immoral, Mark has a fairly strong moral code that he simply chooses to ignore -- His coping mechanism for coming to terms with his day-to-day way of providing for himself and his daughter is a simple mantra of "Don't think about it".

Although Mark has intense feelings of anxiety and guilt, he rationalizes his actions with a combination of self-hypnosis and bitter truths. Holding a staunch belief that the ends justify the means, Mark rationalizes what he does by seeing it as a choice of sacrificing his daughter or sacrificing his morals, which is true in many ways -- The absurd amount of money Mark receives for his work in The Changeling Unit is the only feasible way to keep up payments for continued research on his daughter's condition through The Hands of Science.

Mark is troubled by his past, but he's not completely distraught with guilt at all times. After all, his mechanism of coping is reminding himself that he's doing what he has to because he needs to, and to a logical thinker like Mark, it's very successful. His devotion to his daughter is truly more important to him than doing what's right, which has granted him the sanity to do what he has for as long as he has, without snapping. If The Changeling Unit tells him to take a baby from their mother's arms, he doesn't feel guilt as he does so. After all, it's his kid or theirs, and Mark's drive is to make sure it's not his.

Aside from his anxiety and career path, Mark is a good, albeit strongly overprotective dad. He takes great care to make sure his work is kept a secret from his daughter, going as far as to contain his suit and equipment in a secret bunker underneath their cellar, and manages to frequently spend time with her, even hours after patching himself up. He is a people person at heart, and on the rare occasions he drops his act in public, he manages to quickly make friends.

In most public settings, especially when dealing with NEST Operatives, Mark puts on an act of feigned feebleness. Although he's not comically clumsy or stupid, he retains a certain "slow" demeanor, flying with an uncomfortable jerkiness. This entire assumed persona is a tool for keeping suspicion away from him, in the event that he was seen while working. Although winged metahumans aren't common, there are enough in Verthaven that he would not be an immediate suspect for having wings. Mark uses his act to lure any would-be investigators into a sense of security. After all, Mark's just some geeky treehugger with a daughter, How could he be a kidnapper?

Hobbies/Interests:

Mark's devotion to his daughter's well-being is intense, but is not a sole sense of tunnel-vision. Mark enjoys hiking, woodworking, and general outdoorsmanship. Most of all, he has always loved flying. He frequently takes his daughter on nighttime flights in the summer, either by Verthaven's beach or through the forest. Even when alone, he spends most of his leisure time flying, whether it's high in the clouds, or deep within the brush of the forest.

Skills/Talents:

Mark's greatest skill is his flight. An expert with maneuvering, even as a boy, Mark has things like midair rolling and sharp turns down to instinctual muscle memory. Second to his abilities with flying, Mark is a skilled actor, going as far as to trick nearly everyone who knows him but his daughter into thinking he's a harmless nobody, even going as far as hiding his sonic shout ability from NEST registry. As far as NEST knows, Mark's only metahuman feature are his large, cumbersome wings that he has trouble flying with at all.

History/Bio:

Mark was born in Colorado, to a human father and metahuman mother. Mark has few memories of importance during childhood, seeing it as a fairly average, wholesome life. He faced very little bullying for his metahuman abilities, and was known for occasionally giving his friends rides through the air. It wasn't until Mark's adolescent years that things took a turn for the worst -- Mark's mother was put into a coma after a particularly violent car crash, causing his father to take an extra two jobs as a garbageman and security guard to support his wife's medical funds. This is where Mark picked up one of his major philosophies; Devotion to your loved ones is all that's important.

Eventually, his mother's condition was no longer treatable, and she was let off life support, leaving Mark's father to grieve. His father never really recovered, leaving Mark for days at a time on trips he would disclose very little about. Eventually, Mark was emancipated, and began working as a sales associate with his cousin, his maternal uncle's son, in Denver.

His fatherhood was not planned, but a surprise -- A woman he had known briefly for a night eventually introduced him to his daughter over a phone call years later, and then in person a week later to tell Mark that her participation in a methadone program meant he must take custody of their child. It wasn't long that Sophia started exhibiting metahuman powers -- she would have violent seizures as she slept, accompanied by strong telekinetic waves. As his daughter's condition worsened, Mark began to look for more and more ways to turn a profit to afford her medication, often recalling days that his father would go days without sleeping to try to save his mother. At first, he began as a petty drug dealer, but as the cost of medicating his daughter with conventional hospitals increased with her slowly evolving condition, so did his criminal path. He quickly went from drug dealing to distribution, and distribution to smuggling, and eventually, smuggling to kidnapping.

Although at first appalled by The Changeling Unit's offer, there was a factor that eventually swayed him -- Due to The Changeling Unit's close proximity with The Hands of Science, his daughter's condition could eventually be cured, according to the men hoping to recruit him.

Although her fits are less and less frequent, the cycle of debt to The Hands of Science Mark is kept in is very much alive. As Sophia's fits are more intense with each passing episode, members of The Hands of Science need to spend more and more time on research, and so the price for the medication she receives increases with each visit.

Relationships

Family:

Jerry Emerson: Father (Deceased)
Carolyn Emerson: Mother (Deceased)
Sophia Emerson: Daughter

Dynamics:

Sophia Emerson | Good | Daughter | Sophie's my daughter. Love her to bits. |

Abilities

Power Class:

Super-System (Animal)

Power:

Bird Physiology
Mark's wings are the same shade of black as his hair, are about as tall as himself when pulled in, have a total span of 16 feet, and have a very flexible skeletal structure. Mark's entire anatomy is adapted for flight, having hollow bones, a body virtually devoid of fat that grants him enhanced proportionate muscle strength, eyes that can withstand high-speed winds, enhanced eyesight enabling him to see at distances far greater than the average human, and a special respiratory membrane that extracts oxygen from the air at extreme velocities and altitudes. He can reach a maximum speed of about 40 mph when flying, while using updrafts as he glides can allow him to go faster. His wings are very powerful, allowing him to push away most people with strong gusts if he flaps hard enough.

Supersonic Shout
Mark's birdlike-metahuman physiology allows him to tap into frequencies he should be incapable of reaching -- His shouts can shatter glass, damage delicate machinery, and render victims completely stunned, sometimes even unconscious. Hearing one of his shouts is comparable to a cross between a migraine and a stun grenade, as the resonance vibrates the delicate balance of fluid in his victim's ears, causing those who hear this noise to suffer from extreme vertigo, nausea, temporary deafness, and intense headaches.

Limits:

When wearing the suit, Mark has difficulty carrying anything more than 75 lbs. Although this is rarely an issue as his targets are all infants, Mark cannot carry a grown person, or heavy equipment while flying. Additionally, Mark's supersonic shout is loud, and with stealth being imperative to most of his jobs, he rarely uses it. Mark's shout is also nonlethal without his Blackbird suit.

Weaknesses/Drawbacks:

Reliance on Suit

Mark's career with The Changeling Unit has always involved his Blackbird suit, even in the earliest stages where it was little more than a black wetsuit. Because of the suit, Mark's planning is minimal -- If his suit is shockproof, why worry about being tazed? Without his suit, Mark fails to account for factors he wouldn't normally worry about with his suit on, like making an escape if seen, or evading someone who's chasing him by car. The suit's durability has made Mark somewhat reckless.

Anxiety
Mark knows what he's doing is wrong, although this knowledge is buried under mountains of self-assurance that he's doing what he has to. He will occasionally have moments where his current actions dawn on him, and he will freeze up mid-kidnapping. This has caused him to nearly be spotted on a few occasions, although he's managed to evade detection. Certain sites or sounds that remind him of his daughter cause him to think about his personal life on the job, which he finds deeply distressing -- Part of how Mark has managed to cope for so long is by dividing his thoughts, never thinking about work while at home or home while at work, making Blackbird feel more like a separate person altogether than an alter-ego.

Hearing
With his mask, Mark's shouts are channeled out of the palms of his gloves as concussive blasts of air, and are significantly quieter than they normally would be. Without his mask, however, he suffers temporary deafness for a few minutes every time he shouts, although he is spared from any of the nausea and dizziness others feel. The prolonged exposure to his own supersonic screams have left Mark somewhat hard of hearing, and he wears a discrete hearing aid most of the time, except for when he's working -- His jammer renders the hearing aid useless.

Vulnerability in Wings
Even from a non-combat standpoint, psychologically, Mark's wings are very important to him. His maneuvers reflect this -- He rarely flies in narrow passages, and when taking fire, he glides with his wings at an almost vertical angle to make them as small a target as possible, even if this sacrifices speed or maneuverability. They are also the only parts of his body uncovered by his Blackbird suit, and so he takes extra precaution to keep them safe. If he is completely submerged, he is unable to fly for a half hour, as his massive wings become too heavy and need to be completely dried. Having a majority of his feathers burned or cut would render him flightless for much longer, as he would need to wait for the damaged section of his wings to molt.

Other:

Mark is left-handed, and keeps his knife on the left hip of his suit. This is the only piece of evidence of his alter-ego -- Mark occasionally even plants black chicken feathers at his crime scene kidnappings to ensure that the DNA readings performed by NEST are very different from his.

Although this is mostly a compliment, many people who know Mark claim he bears a striking resemblance to the actor Pedro Pascal.

_{it's his faceclaim deal with it}