Sep — Roleplayer Guild

WILLIAM LOCKE // PYROKINETIC // OUTLAW



Age: 29
Para Category: Beta - Currently Category Four
Powers/Abilities: Williams power is the manipulation of fire. He can generate fire and then wield it in a variety of ways. So far he has mastered the art of throwing blasts of flame and wielding small flame 'knifes' in each of his hands. The powers appear to be influenced by his mood when he becomes enraged he has less control however the fire appears to be stronger than it usually is. The blades he forms are capable of cutting through substances and are more or less like extremely fine plasma torch blades.

His entire body, as a result, seems to have undergone a metabolic change. He has a constant temperature, and as such is more visible on thermal imaging. Under falling water in the right conditions, he even generates steam. This comes at a cost, he finds himself weakened and slowed down in cases of extreme cold more so than the average human being.
Skills:
Streetfighter: William has been living on the streets since being ousted as a Parahuman to the MPD. As such he's had to make money some way, and that was is in illegal streetfights. Occasionally being pitted against another parahuman he's become a reasonable fighter when it comes to using his abilities.
Former Law Enforcement: William spent years working within the Marlon PD. Whether or not he was corrupt was a matter of perspective. He made sure that no real crimes were being committed. He may have occasionally taken money in exchange for going off a case that wasn't worth his time, but his heart was in the right place. His prior job in Law Enforcement means he knows their tactics, their skillset and how they operate. It also means he's trained in a myriad of skills.
Strength: Never stop training. He's reasonably strong.

Weaknesses:
Wanted Man: All Paras are wanted, but not all of them used to be cops. His face is plastered over every district in the city. He's a known fugitive.
Temper: It could be a side-effect of his change in lifestyle, it could be power related, however, where before he was calm and mild-mannered he is now quick to anger and finds it hard to maintain control when he does get angered.
Aimless Alcoholic: He once had a purpose. He was bringing Law and Order to the streets, now he has nothing except the bottom of the bottle and the next fight.

Brief History:
William Locke was born to Adam and Amara Locke, career cops in the MPD. From a young age, it was clear that there was very little else that he could do. While his mother left the frontlines for a desk job after his birth both his parents continued in the MPD right up until the present day. Through his school years, William had a very slanted view of the world. The rules were there for a reason, and they should be obeyed. Not obeying meant punishment. He became a form of a bully while he was at school, using physical violence and threats of physical violence to ensure that the rules were being followed. The kind of rule-breaking that a teacher didn't really frown upon. As far as he saw it sometimes you had to break some of the smaller rules, to enforce the bigger ones. To make sure everyone was safe and secure. 

Upon graduation of High School he proceeded to go straight into the Marlon Police Academy. He graduated top of his class, with honours and was assigned to the 45th Precinct. He quickly got a reputation as someone who got the job done, and someone whose superiors didn't often ask how he got the job done. He got promoted to Detective 3rd Grade at the age of 23, which is where his vision started to get clouded. When investigating a murder he was uncovering the entire command structure of one of the main mob families within the city. When they approached him with an offer. Ten thousand dollars, if he didn't investigate any further. He took the offer, after all, why should he care if one gangster kills another gangster. 

This train of thought continued and carried him through his police career. Until one fateful day, the Lorne Tower exploded, sending a cascade of energy throughout the city. He developed a fever, however continued to work. That was until one day, becoming enraged with a suspect flame erupted out of his hands in the interrogation room. Instantly labelling him a Parahuman in one of the main centres of parahuman capture and containment. Getting out wasn't easy, and he had to hurt more than one or two of his former colleagues however it came down to survival. He knew what they did to Paras. He knew what Lorne did to Paras, and that wasn't going to happen to him.

Unable to get in touch with his friends, colleagues, parents or anyone from his old life William has resorted to alcohol to soothe his worries. Illegal street fights being the only way he can get money, so what if he has to beat up criminals? That's basically what he used to do anyway.

William placed the bottle back on the bar. Smoke hung in the air, creating a haze throughout the dingy little bar. A hideout, the kind of place that in his old life he'd have loved to find. So many potential squealers on criminal deals all over the city. Now he was one of them. Arguably worse, the MPD was cracking down on Paras harder than they had ever cracked down on criminals. He sighed as he lifted the bottle again, finishing the last of the golden liquid. It was doing nothing for his mood tonight. He slammed the bottle down and grabbed the robotic bartender by the shoulder as it went past. "Give me a whisky." Without so much as a word it pulled a bottle out, as well as glass.

William sunk his hand into his pocket withdrawing a wad of cash and placing it on the bar. "Leave the bottle." The robot paused for a minute as it checked it's programming, looking down at the pile of cash it picked it up and inserted it into a chest compartment before walking off to deal with some other customer. He opened the bottle, putting the top of it to below his nose smelling it. The strong wooden, sweet smell of whiskey attacking his nostrils. He smiled as he poured out a finger or two into his glass. Taking the smallest of sip to start with, shuddering as he did so. The first was always the worst.

There was a clatter as a pistol was placed on the bar beside him, he tried to ignore it but its owner had other ideas. A burly man, tanned. Skin broken by heat and age, a long scar across the left-hand side of his face. Of course, William knew him. The gun-runner known as the Jackal. He had tried to buy William back when he was on the force, but William had put him away instead. He couldn't stand gun-runners, innocent people always got killed because of them. Quite often by another average citizen. It's what happens when you put guns in the hands of untrained individuals. Sure they would just intend to threaten one another, but more often than not the trigger was pulled and someone wound up dead over a trivial argument. 

"'Ey. I recognise you." He jabbed a finger at William, who didn't turn to face him and instead poured another drink.

"You're mistaken. We've never met."

"Yeaaaaaah. You're the pig ain'tcha? Too good to take a bribe from me 'eh? Fine to take it from half the other geezers here."

"I'm not who you think I am." William downed his drink, feeling the heat of the alcohol burn through him.

"Yeah yeah, I hear you're a big bad Para now 'eh? Spitting fire like bullets huh." 

William turned to face the Jackal, his anger starting to rise. With the temperature of the room. "What is it you want Jackal?" William practically spat the name. What he wasn't expecting was the backhand across the face, his cheek cracked from the power of the blow as he was sent off his barstool. Lying in a puddle of piss, alcohol and probably blood his rage reached a peak. He raised himself with his hands, the pool on the floor turning to steam only adding to the putrid smell that already existed in the bar. At this point conversations had stopped as everyones attention turned to the two of them. Jackal picked up Williams bottle of whiskey and took a swig from it before throwing it on the ground.

"I want you to get out. You're not welcome here. Para-Filth."

STARFIGHTER CONTROL TOWER // IMPERIAL VENATOR

Sheppard looked out the viewport as the boarding pod was coming straight towards them. Not sure what it was he went into a brief moment of panic. "Everybody hold onto something!" The Marines and all the members of his team jumped down hanging onto something, Rodney grabbing onto the robot with his arms around it. As the pod crashed into the bridge the entire thing shook, but rather than being pulled into vacuum it opened up and somehow created a seal against the vacuum of space. Dropping the stunner he reached for his P-90 and raised it, all weapons on the mouth of the pod. Then descended from it were a group of clones, but not the bad clones the good clones. From aboard the Resurgence. Swearing internally, of course they would come here in the middle of the operation. 

"Well, I think you should explain how you're here before the rest of our forces."

Sheppard looked at Rodney who shook his head as the robot thing was still downloading information.

"No offence Commander, but I don't report to you. I mean there are lots of things I should do, I should call my father more often but I don't." He nodded to Ronon who was still standing eyeing the group suspiciously, who then sighed and turned back to focus on the door. 

"Look. We're just here gathering a little information. We don't know these people, and we're reluctant to kill anybody without a good reason." He picked the stunner back up off the floor. "We're considerate like that. Afterall I don't expect you to come to our universe and start killing people."

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