Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus Tags: Villain lesson #1: Ignore problems and maybe they'll go away.
The satisfying clicks of the lock tumbling into place met his ears, and he reached out a gloved hand to give the knob a jiggle. Perfect. It was then that the considerably less satisfying sound of a witness caught his attention. Raker stood, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to face the young woman. The blank, black fabric eyes of his mask stared at her, emotionless and indifferent. The fiend's own expression underneath wasn't much different. No matter; she was but a small gnat on the windshield of his plan.
Mindraker did what he did best: he reached out into her mind, raking it over the hot coals of confusion and haze.
Where am I?
Keep walking.
What was I doing?
Saw nothing.
Foggy.
Leave.
As he played his trick, he slipped into the office and shut the door behind him, locking it back. If he pretended he wasn't there, she would probably just turn and go away. Meanwhile, he very quietly proceeded to ransack the place. Raker pulled open drawers and cabinets, sorting through papers and manila folders. He pocketed a thumb drive and picked out a few papers, then neatly put them into a folder and tucked them into his hoodie. The process felt as though it had taken long enough for the woman to be gone, but just to be sure, the hooded man approached the door and leaned his ear up against it.
Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian Location: His apartment
Orren walked a few blocks to where his shabby apartment was nestled. Given his rough start on life, he'd had to work long hours and take short breaks to hammer out a life for himself. Government assistance helped a little. He noticed his elderly neighbor, Miss Renfroe, outside watering her lilies. She waved at him, and he offered her an awkward smile.
His door creaked as he headed inside. He should probably spray the hinges soon...or not. Orren set is stuff down on his plastic card table and plopped into his beat up old chair. His tiny apartment was a little better than living on the street. It was cheap, the neighbors were loud, and he was pretty sure that he would be murdered if he didn't lock his doors, but it was home.
He reached for his remote and turned the TV on to watch something before bed. Lately, Orren had been going to sleep earlier and earlier. He was always tired, and no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to feel rested. He had been to a couple doctors about it, even did a sleep lab, but everything came out normal. It was frustrating to say the least. Some times he wondered if his condition was coming back. God, he hoped it wasn't.
As the show he had on played out, his eyes slowly got heavier and heavier. Maybe he could just nap here in his chair. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep when his phone sounded off the text alert tone. He grunted as he pulled it out, seeing a new text with a video attached, the caption reading "wake up".
Alias: "Golden Tiger", formerly called the "Crimson Hand".
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Alliance: "Hero" Douglas Song is a former villain of the alias "Crimson Hand" although he never assumed the title or called himself so, instead achieving it by reporting of his martial exploits in criminal pursuits. He has been out of the public mind for six some-odd years owing to a brief disappearance. As such, his return certainly has been much more noble than his prior activities.
Powers: Advanced Martial Arts The vast majority of Douglas Song's superhuman ability derives itself from the manipulation of qi, namely through three schools of martial art, two physical and one much more mental, spiritual, and emotional. While it is certain Song's ability is only shaped by these schools, his true power being manipulation of bodily forces his or otherwise, they represent a tremendously powerful advantage over his latent ability - a means to amplify it beyond regular human limit and manifest his actual superhuman ability to an applicable level.
Fu Jow Pai One of the two schools of "hard" martial art known by Song, Fu Jow Pai is external and lightning fast, often a defensive or even reactionary form of kung fu that relies upon the clawed hand technique. Striking like the tiger it is modeled after, it inflicts ripping, tearing, clawing, joint locking, and grasping upon its opponents and is more defensively oriented than the other member of the Black Tiger System. Notably, it derives great strength from pressure point attacks, to include those of grappling, and has a large bias toward pain compliance and exploiting limits of physique or objects.
Heihuquan The second school of external martial art understood by Douglas Song, but is a paradoxical member of Shaolin canon; the longer one practices this most extreme form of outer martial art, the more internal it becomes. As such, Song's further and evolving understanding of qi and its techniques has only come to progress as it has due to this discipline than either other. Of the forms of striking, the Black Tiger Fist style is punctuated most by low, deep stances, swift and dexterous footwork, and exotic, acrobatic kicks. Where it derives its name from is the manner in which its power based punches place the thumb - in line with the other digits and not across them.
Taijiquan As the actual kung fu of tai chi, is an internal canon that focuses most upon responsiveness, breathing, movement, body, and meditation, but retains the combative aspect in its use of "pushing hands", a technique about reusing and redirecting bodily energy, be it momentum or weakness. Steeped in difficulty as a mostly defensive school, it is a gateway often practiced in tandem with "hard" martial arts, such as those Song has adopted. Feeding into the internalization of Heihuquan, it provides a serenity and clarity that allows qi to act beyond the mere body and more into the psychic realm. It allows for the soft, even gentle, manipulation of an opponent versus the harsh, even deadly manipulation of other kung fu technique.
While not a master of the armed martial arts, Douglas Song is familiar to archaic weapons as the dao, dadao, gun, ji, feng huo lun, hu tou gou, and sheng biao, among others. For the sake of simplicity in his lifestyle, at most he arms himself with knives, those balanced enough to throw or fight with, but subtle enough to carry in concealment. Generally, any weapon he can lay his hands upon can suddenly find itself improvised, though he prefers not to make use of firearms whenever possible.
Qi The conscious manipulation of qi, or one's own bodily "life energy" or even that of others, is divided into two approximate schools of thought as Li, external manipulation, and Neijing as internal manipulation, in the advanced martial arts. When exercised by those who posses both bodily and psychic control of their qi a certain level of superhuman ability is gained, one that scales in potency as further understanding and even eventual mastery is attained in them. While mutually exclusive to one another, the true talent arises in those who can shift their qi from one discipline to another and back on whim. Knowing this, Neijing, or the internal, mind and soul use of qi, is profoundly more difficult because of the introspection required to use it; to rely on the invisible force than the obvious one of Li.
In the case of Song, an adept figure in the manipulation of qi, his power revolves about the transfer of power to or from his own body or that of others, both as Li and as Neijing. While neither a master of either school, let alone any of his martial talents, his versatility and natural familiarity to qi lends him a diverse use of advanced skills that are unavailable to traditional martial artists.
Body Outside Body A disciple of Neijing, like Song who are familiar to Taijiquan, is able to perform feats of qi manipulation that are beyond understanding of regular human technique as they are internal, not external processes. As such those like Song may wield their body at times as brief, near "invisible" forces; being a "body outside the body" allows a practitioner to engage in unnatural talents that are iconic among advanced wielders of the martial arts. These manipulations are most classically the ability to fall without injury, sprint at impressive speed, jump great distances or exceptional heights, run along vertical surfaces or across water, stand on objects much too narrow to balance one's weight on, or seemingly absorb blows to physical self without apparent external harm, converting it into hostile internal qi instead.
While capable of such talents, the most notable Douglas Song has acquired out of these is the redirection or deflection of slow moving objects or projectiles, albeit fast moving or large ones are understandably well outside his talent. It is this same technique that grants him his favored use of thrown projectiles or even the use of archaic weapons as a bow, able to help guide the shot or even alter its flight path to an uncanny extent.
Hands of Black and White Able to shift another's physical energy with his strikes by using both Li and Neijing, Douglas Song can naturally upset the balance of a body's qi. The ill effects of such contact, able to be as subtle as mere touch to affect another's mind to an elbow strike to disrupt body, range from imposing an addled, clouded haze of thought and interruption of concentration, to the obviously physical debilitation of inflicting jarring pain or nausea. The difficulty for Song comes in the fact that the more mastery one has of their mind and body, such as even being aware of his qi manipulation, decreases the severity of the disruption and distortion.
The pinnacle of his ability, this transfer of power, shifting of qi, is what allows Song to transfer his own damaged qi to the subjects of his attacks; this eternal process of balance is his means to effectively "heal" himself and sustain his body and mind in combat while inflicting greater injury on those he lays hands upon. As expected, Song is capable of exchanging his own qi as well within himself at the price of body over mind or mind over body.
Stillness of Self Born of meditation and fellow internal exercises through understanding Neijing, Song has an exceptional defense of "action before thought", not needing to consciously decide his combat techniques and allowing his defenses to follow the flow of his own qi. In practical applications this is the difference between actively attempting to block attacks or simply flowing with them, either in, around, or through them and setting up joint locks and body manipulation as through Fu Jow Pai. This swiftness is however, notably hampered by interruption and physical interference, such as by wearing body armor or being grappled by one attacker while another moves in to attack.
Tiger's Claws The most basic of Song's manipulation of qi is derived from his education under the kung fu styles of Fu Jow Pai and Heihuquan, both members of the Black Tiger System. Heavy in their Li elements, their extreme application allows them to become "killing hands" or the force needed to splinter wood, pulverize concrete, bend steel, or penetrate unnatural defenses. At the truest form of qi exercise they allow a martial artist to strike with superhuman strength, precision, speed, and most dangerously, into another's qi.
The transfer of power is limited to physically wielded objects, whereas projectiles, such as a firearm's bullets, do not experience this outcome of being used as a conduit.
Vibrating Palm A talent more infamously known as the "Touch of Death", souch a touch is a Neijing pressure point technique that is understood as both a psychic and vibrational attack, mind and body togther, focused into a wave and placed at a point of weakness on a target. While not always a lethal attack, one as Douglas Song can indeed setup a killing stroke with a perfectly executed and balanced transfer of qi. The difficulty for this lies in the fact Song is not familiar with the means to do so, rather he knows only the execution of its lesser incarnation that can seize the body of a thing by inflicting brief or even prolonged paralysis, more commonly known as the "vibrating palm".
Personality: Song is a generally well meaning soul, at least post return from his several year disappearance, where he seems to have left behind much more of the anger and aggression he displayed then. A more tranquil spirit as consequence of that, it is safe to assume his time spent refining himself affected his demeanor as well, teaching him a much needed prospect of control and discipline. Though somewhat quiet, he isn't prone to erupt into excessive physical force or emotional lashing out, instead demonstrating a newfound restraint and empathy. Far more mature, an actual man now than a boy trying to play a man, Song even goes so far as to attempt to awkwardly apologize now or even bear some wit.
Appearance: A second generation Chinese-American, Douglas Song is certainly not remarkable by any obvious and outward means as some others with superhuman power or talent; having neither the bulk of extensive strength training nor their slender leanness and height of a runner, his general aptitude is one of overall refinement and nondescript fitness. Able bodied as he is, beyond even what eyes can perceive, he uses his seemingly normative qualities to blend in, but exhibits a few consistent traits, namely that he keeps his hair short and militarily cut, face clean shaven, and body free of any blemishes or markings that could assist in identifying him. Going so far as to wear contacts at times, Song's natural eye color is a light amber and his skin is surprisingly fair as well.
In dress Song is not particularly remarkable either, often wearing a hoodie or hooded jacket, jeans or cargo pants, and season appropriate clothes to keep in line with the general populace if all else fails. Preferring darker colors normally, his only calling card is the source of his new identity and namesake; a set of black cargo pants, large leather belt and buckle, working boots, dark sunglasses, and a white hooded sweatshirt that bears a tawny set of tiger's stripes across the back. He carries few weapons, if any at all, and tends to be mostly averse to firearms or other luxuries of modern life, going so far as to own burner phones in place of more modern technology.
History: Given that the "Crimson Hand" was never apprehended for any of his crimes and his true identity of Douglas Song was never revealed, little is overtly known about their connection. Truthfully however, Song hadn't much reason to even involve himself in criminal activity other than it, for lack of better words, was "Good exercise." and "Something to do." The power afforded to him through his youth, the discovery of the martial arts, instilled everything in him but what it was truthfully about; it wasn't about the power or demonstrating it. Thus as a young man looking to prove himself and make a living, what better way was there than to leverage skills he had that others didn't, all while paying for the bills?
Though through running with small time affiliations Song came to realize more and more that he was accomplishing nothing more than that "something to do"; it wasn't even "good exercise" or really all that worth the problems it came with. The further he went through with things the darker and more disturbed the people involved were. At some points it wasn't about just subduing those in the way, at times it was about "Leaving a message to anyone, everyone, especially the news." It was a point that forced reconsideration each time he acted on it, coming to accept the infamy and rightful villain status was... not what he really ever wanted. It was just anger and greed, both the sort of things a petty child might thrive on. The difference being, Song wasn't so much a young man anymore and the reminders of his crimes weren't really setting in well with him.
So he left for a few years, up and vanished without a trace. He never made headlines and his affiliates assumed he was ghosted by some hero or other villain, so his loss was of little consequence or interest until he returned from his venture abroad. That was when life became serious, perhaps for the first time. After all, Song learned significantly more than a few novel tricks and talents of ability, rather an entirely new mindset and outlook.
That was what urged him to attempt to make good on his errors, not the fact he wanted the fame or trial. The downside, however? The law and those enforcing it were not likely to be so forgiving and quick to forget. At least this time he chose his own name and identity.
I think this is probably fine, but Imma need you to break those powers down into single sentence explanations real quick. I'm kinda slow on the uptake.
It was almost time to get off work. The sun was flirting with the tops of the skyscrapers, casting shadows and turning the sky a violent pink and orange. Orren impatiently watched the clock, waiting for the hand to hit the seven so that he could clock out and go home. He hadn't had a customer in at least thirty minutes. People didn't typically drink coffee this late, unless they worked night shift at the nearby hospital. But most of the nurses and doctors had swung by by this time. This left Orren bored and doodling on a cup as a shallow attempt at entertainment.
The shop sat mostly empty, save for a couple of customers who were on their laptops. A lot of people came here for the coffee, but stayed for the free wifi. A TV went ignored in a top corner of the shop. Someone had turned it on the news and left it there. Orren ignored it as well until the words "breaking news" caught his attention.
He looked up with mild interest. The TV showed a live feed of helicopter footage, a light skimming over the rooftops and streets, a dark figure darting just out of the way. The clip cut back to a woman at a news desk.
"This is live footage from a police chase taking place as we speak. The man you see was caught breaking into the Centerville Naval base. It is believe to be the unidentified criminal, Mindraker. The authorities have very little information on this man at this time."
It cut back to the live feed. The helicopter closed in on the man, who appeared to be running down streets and back alleys like a roach seeking a dark corner. Orren watched as the man looked over his shoulder at the cameraman, the black eyes of his mask boring into the him through the TV. The hairs on Orren's arms prickled. God there were some freaks in this city.
The camera slowly panned away from the chase, and the helicopter seemed to drift back upwards, the light no longer shining on the running man. It looked like the pilot and crew had just lost their train of thought. The footage became nothing back a vacant shot of the sky. The news woman chimed back in. She mentioned the crew losing contact with the station and seemingly forgetting what they were supposed to be doing.
Orren turned his eyes back to the clock. Seven, finally! He took off his apron and headed into the break room to hang it up.
"I'm heading out, Terri," He said to his coworker. Orren leaned inside the door to put his apron on a hanger and punch his numbers onto the punch in clock. He grabbed his keys from his pocket and headed out into the night.
Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus
Black cloth eyes watched blankly as the helicopter careened from view, the pilot too dazed to continue the chase. They should have known better than to try and stop him. He was a bit irritated that he hadn't gotten his errand done before getting caught. He would have to go back later.
The hoodie-clad man turned and darted off once more. His breath made small clouds of steam from under his mask, the cold, early spring air chilling him through his thin garment of choice. He didn't seem to mind. He slowed as he reached the hustle and bustle of downtown, careful to stick to the shadows and not be spotted. He often took advantage of people being too busy with their lives to be aware of their surroundings. They were always distracted, unlike him.
His mind remained on his goals, however mysterious they were to the outside world. He stalked down an empty street, his eyes set on a new goal. Mindraker had arrived at a community college, and for whatever reason, he found the need to get inside. He climbed the fence that surrounded the campus and headed for a closed building. The professors and students had left, but the janitor was still inside cleaning up. Raker tried every door before finding one unlocked and slipped into the dark halls.
He glanced at the names on the doors until he came to the office he wanted: Professor John Wiltcress. When the door proved to be locked, he produced a makeshift lockpick from his pocket and began to work on it. Down the hall, he could hear the janitor moving his mop bucket closer. He wasn't worried about being caught; he never was.
Powers: Jack can rapidly produce a substance he calls "Black Sludge" from his hands. It smells bad and will make you puke if you eat it, so don't eat it. He can alter the shape and consistency of it as long as he is in direct contact with it, making it as fluid as silly putty or hard as steel. In liquid form it causes mild chemical burns. It quickly takes on a tarlike consistency, and is very easy to get stuck in, like a very very strong glue. Jack used to have a healing factor. However, due to an accident it mutated. Jack can now melt himself down, causing his body to form into a semiliquid state. This allows him to pull himself back together after being hurt. If he gets a cut, he can just close it. Also, if he's quick enough, he can melt himself to avoid physical attacks. So if he knows someone is going to shoot him in the chest he can make that part of him melt so that the bullets just go through without hurting him.
Allegiance: Villain
Bio: The great grandson of the supersoldier-turned superhero Captain Patriot. A couple of his grandparents and aunts were superheroes, and all his siblings were really successful. Jack was always an underachiever, and his parents mostly ignored him. He went through several jobs until he finally got a job as a custodian at a toxic waste plant. Wouldn't you know it, on his first day he fell into some toxic waste that was being treated and barely survived. It turned out he did in fact have a mild healing factor. His coworkers tried to hide his "corpse" in the sea, where he floated for a couple days, his body piecing itself back together, the chemicals and toxins melding with his very cells. He still works at the same facility as his day job, though these days he takes far fewer hours. It's mostly so he can score some tasty sludge or slime. At night, however, he changes his appearance and commits crimes.
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Omega Man
Emma