Eli knelt down next to the Nexus console and grabbed a plastic-wrapped container of water bottles. He thought this kind of thing would happen and he was right. He raced down the side stairs and walked over to Malcolm as he wiped his regurgitated mess off the floor. Why, he had no idea. There were service bots stationed at the door. He could have just gotten one of them to do it.
"Hey." Eli said as he approached the boy, "You okay bud?" All he got as a reply was a reassuring nod, followed by a bit of a gag. Boy wasn't feeling too good still. Eli opened up the container and handed Malcolm the first bottle of water. "Drink up." He told him, sounding rather insistent. Malcolm took the bottle happily, and resumed mopping. Guess he liked the labor.
Good kid.
He turned his head to the opposite aisle, where Ursula was. He pried another bottle of water from the container and hurried over to the girl. "Hey. Hey!" He said as he knelt down, offering her his hand. "You alright?"
Ursula's shaken frame recoiled slightly as he extended the hand towards her, still unsure of where she was and slightly disoriented from the consciousness displacement. Was she still dreaming? Was this another Zone trick? She looked up at him past her cracked glasses and listened to his question, before shaking her head rapidly. "N-no. No no no. Not at all. That was the single most terrifying experience I've ever had." Her voice was shaking and raspy as she reached out for his hand. Eli pulled her up off the cold steel floor and promptly unscrewed the cap off the water bottle in his hand. He handed it to her, knowing full well she'd need it.
With a vicious swipe, she made a grab for the water bottle he held in his hand, raising it to her mouth and gulping it down greedily and messily. Rivulets of water ran from her chin to dampen her uniform as she drained the bottle completely, the cool water helping her body to cool down.
Eli couldn't help but chuckle. He patted Ursula's shoulder. "God damn." He said, doing his best not to come across as an asshole. "You three did one hell of a job."
The bottle crumpled as Ursula sucked the last of the liquid out and crushed it in her hand, dropping it on the floor as she stumbled for a moment. Her footing was unsure, but the disorientation was fading now. Her breathing was still ragged and quick. "We... we got our asses soundly handed to us. We beat down a small squad of Aggressors and then got a nun's beating from one dude in a ram helmet. Did you know he'd... he'd be that strong?"
Eli hesitated a bit. "I, uh..." He said, separating his hand from Ursula's shoulder and scratching the beck of his head. "Kind of figured, yeah. BUT... with your, uh, investigation... I can safely confirm that he's working for the Crimson Matriarch. So we've got that." Ursula coughed into her fist and made a gesture in between a wave and a clawing motion, towards the bottles of water. With a harsh clearing of her throat she inquired in an unsure squeak, "Can I have some more? Also, the Christmas what-a-what?" Eli handed her another bottle, which she promptly uncapped and began consuming.
"I'll fill you in when everyone's out of Zone 1." He responded, "For now, three of you take it easy. Trust me, you've done plenty for your first time in the Nexus Projector." He turned his head over to where Nora was seated. He took out one more water bottle and left it on a chair monitor for Ursula, just in case, and made his way over to the last of the trio.
He approached her and delved down again. "Hey, you good?" He asked. He took out another bottle of water and held it out to her.
Nora stared at the bottle for a solid ten seconds before reaching out and calmly taking it. "Thank you," she said, twisting the cap off and taking a sip that devolved rather quickly into a gulp. Then she choked slightly, spilled water all over her scubs top and quite handily ruined her attempt at looking cool and collected. She glared at the bottle with red-rimmed eyes like the whole fiasco was its fault. "I'm good," she said finally, and rose to her feet.
Eli held the water bottle container under his left arm and patted Nora's shoulder with his free hand. "Good work out there." He said, "You rest up while I check on the other team." With that, he turned and left the girl to her own devices, heading back up the aisle towards the console. He set the container aside and sat back down in his chair, switching the neural comm over to the group involved in the workshop assault.
"Hey." He called out to all of them, "You guys holding up?"
Much to Rubenās ire, he has adopted nicknames along the lines of āMetalheadā and āMeatfuckerā from some of those he has met and mentored.
Gender:
Androgynous (formerly male)
Age:
45
Height:
6ā7 (on average)
Weight:
344.5 lbs (on average)
Type:
Teacher
Appearance
Hair Color:
N/A (no hair, formerly brown)
Eye Color:
N/A (no eyes, formerly green)
Ethnicity:
N/A (formerly Caucasian)
Physical Appearance:
Rubenās āheadā is hidden from view by his Brainvault. The rest of him is nothing but a disgusting slurry of raw meat, organs, sinewy bones, and muscles. He often shapes himself into the closest thing to a human body he can muster.
Attire:
The closest thing Ruben has to clothes is his Brainvault Type 2, a cranial device designed by his colleagues and modified by Ruben himself. It resembles a metal sphere with several ports and antennae protruding from it, an oscilloscope that fluctuates with his speech patterns, a small optic lens to see with, and other such necessary devices.
Personality
Innate & Outward Personality:
Rubenās immediate impression on most people is often marred by his appearance. Manage to overcome that hurdle, however, and you will find nothing but an intellectual. On the outside, Ruben makes it a constant objective of his to display a certain level of civility. He is polite, well mannered, and straightforward with his words. Return such pleasantries to him and he will prove to be a trustworthy acquaintance with a knack for getting folks what they need ā mainly, information. Not on anyone in particular, but on a variety of obscure subjects. Never know when such might prove useful.
Ruben is a much different person on the inside, however. Constantly thinking, analyzing the people and places surrounding him, saving the knowledge he accrues for later. In truth, Ruben is a very opinionated, judgmental person, but heās very good at hiding it. Logic and rationale dictate many of his feelings and decisions, and the subject of meta-humans is a definitely a vast, differentiated issue with him. Heās a very different person now than before, when he was human. There are many cases of powers that he is opposed to the very existence of. Most replicators, for one. Anything that seems like it could cause widespread destruction by any variety of means. And the worst; anything with āomniā attached to it. Ruben is a firm believer in the notion that a problem should be quelled before it has the chance to even become a problem. However, given his current status and occupation, heās in no position to act on these notions, much as heād like to.
Hobbies/Interests:
Ruben spends a great deal of his time working on his Brainvault Type 3, which he has taken to calling āCranial Eclipseā. The surface of the Brainvault is actually made of his assistant Harmon Rottlageās plucked head shards, giving it an innate shield against most foreign telepathic elements. Besides the Brainvault, Ruben mainly spends his time working on school matters, preparing class experiments, all the sort.
Skills/Talents:
Ruben is well versed in most every aspect of biology there is, especially that of meta-humans, having studied the topic since his earliest years. He also, being the studious and analytical sludge monster he is, has a knack for mind games and puzzles, able to solve them relatively quickly compared to most others.
Prized Possession:
Ruben doesnāt necessarily hold any one object in great sentimental regard, but he does take extensive care of his Brainvaults, both the one he wears currently and the one heās working on upgrading. He used to keep his original Brainvault as a reminder of the kindness his colleagues showed him, but he left it with them after he left for Academy 218. They considered it something to remember him by.
Quote(s):
āWhat. Unseen. Forces. Brew. This subtle. Chaos. Among. The myriad. Gifted.ā
āCode. Lock. Cauterize.ā
History/Bio:
Ruben Geraltes Tarblatt was born in rural England, on the outer side of the country. He was raised by two loving parents along with his older sister Marietta, eleven at the time of his conception. Originally a mere farm boy, his youth was flooded with the ideas and intrigues of science and engineering, brought upon by rudimentary textbooks and posters he had beheld at his elementary school. His father, despite having no interest in any scientific fields, supported his sonās eagerness to do whatever he wished, confident heād make a successful career out of it. Ruben soon devoted himself to the broad study of biology, at first simply intending to study human physicality. That changed, however, when he learned of meta-humans.
At such a young age, Ruben was bewildered by the stories he heard of people capable of bending reality, changing form, and mastering control over the elements. He studied meta-human energy, ashing, everything that was readily available to him. While this wasnāt really what his school was versed in teaching its students, he pursued it nonetheless. His family was less than keen on this, but they allowed it to continue. In his later teenage years, he applied for a scholarship to a university in the United States. He told his family that it would give him the chance to learn much, much more, and potentially enact the foundation of a career, perhaps as a doctor or some other form of medical researcher. In truth, he had heard of a program going on in the university that focused on understanding meta-humans, their abilities, origins, everything. It was the next best thing to the illustrious Academy 218, which he had absolutely no chance of attending thanks to his mundane genetics, much to his displeasure. It took some convincing, but the family eventually agreed, and off they went to live in America.
A time later, when Ruben was 22, he ended up as a junior researcher in the MHS (Meta-Human Studies) Program on the eastern coast of the US. His father got a job in a steel mill, and his mother stayed at home. By this time, his older sister had become rather distant from the family, claiming Ruben had taken control and didnāt care about their wellbeing. There was some truth to her words, but her parents didnāt enjoy hearing it. She came back to the house less and less often and, eventually, left off on her own completely. Ruben, in all his blind eagerness to learn and progress, wasnāt made aware of his sisterās departure until after his mother passed away from old age. Ruben slowed down some at this point, returning to his home and comforting his grieving father. Hugo, however, didnāt seem to acknowledge his company like he used to. During this time, Ruben was offered a spot in an experimental trial as a lab assistant. The project was geared towards the creation of raw meta-energy and studying its uses and applications. Ruben was torn between accepting the offer or remaining with his father and caring for him in his declining health and mental state.
Ultimately, Ruben took the offer and abandoned his father. Hugo died soon after, early one morning, alone and in his bed, having not eaten anything since his son left him. Ruben refused to dwell on the issue and completely devoted himself to the project.
Several years passed. Progress on the meta-energy project was slow and had reached a low point, almost on the verge of losing its funding and meta-human volunteers, most of which werenāt confident in the project in the first place. One night, Ruben had decided to stay in the lab late while his colleagues left. His spirits were already low, but that night, he got the kicker. While he was peering through dead-end data readings over a vat of residual meta-energy combined with other experimental chemicals, he received an email from his sister. Hesitant, he opened the message.
Ruben,
I came back to the house last night. I thought Iād make amends with Dad after you left him. Try and patch things up. I came back and heās not there. A neighbor who worked with him at the mill told me heās dead and buried in the cemetery downtown. I ran to my car and I cried. I was so sad and angry at you, and I still am. I know I left Mom and Dad but I thought about it every day. You didnāt. I thought if I came back, nothing would happen. Theyād be happy to see me but nothing would have changed for them. Iād still end up leaving, theyād still be together. But I at least wanted to do something for them after feeling so terrible about myself for so long. I donāt know if I should be angrier at myself for not going back sooner, or absolutely furious at you for not even caring. But there are so many other reasons. You pushed us to move to America for your own education, not mine, and not for Mom or Dadās interests. You made them spend all their money on a dead-end project. And you abandoned them both in the end. Everything that happened was your fault. I thought I could forgive you years ago somehow, but because of all this, that will never happen. Youāre horrible. Youāre inhuman. You left Mom and Dad to die and you never even cared.
Youāre not my brother. Donāt you dare respond to this.
That did it. Ruben normally would have just tried to shake it off but, this time, it pushed him over the edge. After a fit of hysteric crying and shouting, plus some minor equipment damage, Ruben pulled a gun meant for protection from the station drawer. He screamed at himself and fought between going through with suicide or backing out and remaining as miserable as he was. In the end, he weighed in favor of the former. Standing over the vat, thinking it would dissolve his body if he were to fall in, he put the gun in his mouth and fired.
And down he went, into the concoction.
The laboratory alarms sounded across the facility grounds. The project team were all alerted while they were asleep or out on the town for the night. When a few of them made it to the facility as quickly as they were capable of, they immediately found the vat and theā¦ thing that was inside. One of the researchers immediately activated the emergency bottom valve, no pipe present. They beheld the organism inside; a sopping mess of meat, flesh and bone, all somehow connected to a brain that seemed perfectly intact. Almost instinctively, they set up a crude but stable life support station and connected the brain to it. That same night, they learned that it was Ruben; they found his encased ID tag lodged inside the flesh, the protective cover able to withstand whatever turned him intoā¦ what he became. The next day, they set up a neural interface terminal and connected it to Rubenās brain. When they questioned Ruben about what happenedā¦ he didnāt tell them. He just kept begging them to find a way to āstabilizeā him. He was in pain.
The project team then turned their efforts towards figuring out what happened to Ruben and how to stabilize him. They laid him out on a table and scanned him, discovering the neural tendrils reaching out from his brain stem. Ruben attempted to move them but was incapable of doing so. The team spent the next week gathering the appropriate materials to create the prototype āBrainvaultā, or so they dubbed it. It was designed to sense Rubenās thoughts and stimulate the tendrils through sheer brainpower alone, in order to perform action and movement. It took time, but they constructed the prototype and placed Rubenās brain inside of it.
Miraculously, it worked.
Ruben was then capable of controlling the tendrils and, in sequence, controlling the slurry that surrounded them. He practiced over time, shifting and reworking his new āneural stemā in order to replicate a functioning, mobile body. After months of practice, he was able to create his own system of muscles, bones, nerves, everything. He couldnāt do it without the Brainvault, however, so he was forced to survive through use of a liquid nutrient which, thankfully, was easy to brew. The team eventually forgot about the night the incident occurred, more focused on helping Ruben adapt. As expected, however, the teamās efforts made public news.
People were bewildered at first, but in the wake of developing matters regarding meta-humans, Rubenās condition didnāt seem so strange to them. They simply assumed he was another meta-human which, in a way, he had become. The residual meta-energy detected within his neural stem had given him the ability to āmeldā with any organic material the stem touched. He discovered this when he managed to āpeel backā the meat and flesh to reveal a tendril, and touched an amputated arm (which had originally come from a regenerating meta-human) on a sheer whim. He watched it connect to the tendril, and afterwards, assimilate with the rest of his form. Now, that was what scared the team at first, but Ruben assured them he wasnāt going to end up power-hungry, assimilating with everything left and right. He was too rational for that, or so he claimed. In truth, Ruben became a much different person during that time. He wasnāt the depressed, distant lab monkey he was before. Now, he practically thrived on knowledge and experimentation. Everything fell under a sense of logic and reason to him. The old Ruben was very much gone, in favor of this new, meta-organism.
In the years that passed, Ruben became a figure of note on the topic of meta-human and meta-energy studies. Using his ability to connect to other peopleās minds through neural contact, an action his colleagues theorized and asked him to test, he pooled together enough collective knowledge to advance his teamās research into residual meta-energy manipulation. This led to a relative breakthrough in regenerative medical technology and programs capable of assisting super-system and cerebral class meta-humans in controlling, and even advancing, their abilities. This eventually caught the ear of the staff at Academy 218, and they invited him to visit the grounds and consider an opportunity as a professor. In the end, he took the job and left his remaining work up to his colleagues. He has been with the Academy two years since, offering courses to cerebral and super-system class students. And it was at the academy that he eventually met his current assistant and companion, Harmon Rottlage.
Family:
Amelia Tarblatt ā Mother (deceased) Hugo Tarblatt ā Father (deceased) Marietta Tarblatt ā Older sister, 56
Relationships
Harmon Rottlage | Good | Assistant | āHarmon. Has proven. Time. And time. Again. To be. A respectable. Assistant. And companion. I value. Him. Immensely.ā
Adam Leo Blackmore | Neutral | Fellow Teacher | āI know. Of the Blackmore. Family. And their latent. Abilities. Adam. Is no. Stranger. To the trend. And I. Suppose. It makes him. A capable. Instructor.ā
Abilities
Power Class:
Cerebral, Super-System
Power:
Rubenās body is made up of a slurry comprised of both his meat, bone and flesh, and that of several bovines which he assimilated with years ago for utility purposes. Buried inside this slurry is a series of red stems that provide a neural link between Rubenās brain and any organic matter he comes into contact with. This link, when not conflicted over by a separate consciousness, allows Ruben to control the slurry to almost no limit of extent, at least physically. He can mold the slurry into a pseudo-human body, or anything animalistic or otherwise that he is capable of perceiving, but is restricted to a finite mass. He can form muscles, joints, tendons, tendrils, bones, tissues, membranes, proboscises and many more, all with an accompanying gnashing, retching sound that can only be described as absolutely disgusting.
Rubenās secondary ability, cerebral in nature, is more āintuitiveā. The neural stems originating from his brain are capable of linking to other brains via physical contact. He can access other peopleās thoughts, memories, dreams, nightmares, etc, most often using the ability to help with mental recollection and psyche repair. This, of course, is seen as terrible violation of oneās privacy. Ruben never uses this ability unless he absolutely must, and only if he has the explicit permission of whoever is involved.
Limits:
Rubenās Brainvault is constructed in a way that it is capable of condensing the slurry inside to a smaller but equal-in-mass portion (with the help of a chemical that only he knows how to brew), though this space is not unlimited. It expands when it exits the Brainvault, which Ruben has to shape into something quickly or else it will randomize its own physical outcome. As of current, the amount of slurry inside the Brainvault is at maximum capacity (around three-hundred pounds of organic material), meaning Ruben cannot assimilate with anything else without being forced to make it an extension of his exterior body.
Weaknesses/Drawbacks:
Being comprised of nothing but a slurry of organic materials, Ruben is, of course, susceptible to open flames and very high temperatures. As well, being frozen solid is something he doesnāt enjoy in particular, despite the fact that he prefers cooler temperatures to keep his organic form comfortable. He is just as susceptible to psychokinetic assaults as most others, but he hopes to remedy this with the eventual donning of the Cranial Eclipse.
Other:
Ruben's NEST registration number is #5926817.
Ruben is not necessarily a fan of Shakespeare, but he does find some sense of relation to an excerpt from Hamlet, Act I Scene II.
O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fixād His canon āgainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
Sample Post:
āOh yeah, Meatfucker? What are you gonna do?ā
Ruben despised that moniker. The inappropriate and audacious nomenclature behind it made him writhe in disgust and disappointment. He stood before the three students, who were sitting on a bench and tossing rude remarks and insults to passersby. āCease this activity. Or punishment. Will be. Administered.ā He said to them, his speech jointed by the operations of his voice box. The supposed leader of the trio sneered and turned his head.
That did it.
Rubenās Brainvault began to rise above the students. His arms split and extended outward, unraveling the gauze tape wrapped around his body. He peered downward at them, the lights on his Brainvault turning red. āTĶ hĶ¢e gĢØreaĶtĶnĶeĢ¶sĢØsĶ¢ oĢ“f ĢcoĢ§arseĶ ĢµkinĢøgĶsŅ iĢsĶ Ķ wroĢ“ughtĶ” ĢbyĢø tĶhĢøeĢ Ķ¢tĶreĢ”mĶblĢµiĶnĢ¢gĢ¶ Ģ§oŅfĶ ĢøungĢ”raĢ·tĶeĶ”fulĢø iĢnĢ“sĢeĶ¢cĶtĢ”sĶ.ā He said to them. They began to rear back in terror as the professorsā spindly meat tendrils crept towards them. āAĶ¢LĢ§ĶLĢ“ Ģ¶ĢWĶ¢Ķ ILLĢ·Ģ Ķ ĶBĢ·Ģ§ĶEĶ Ģ·ĢµCĢ“OĶNĢØĢ¢SĶĢ·UĢ”MĶ¢EĶDĢ· ĢBĢ·YĢµĢ§ TĢ§ĢØĢHĶ¢E Ģ“Ģ¶Ģ”FAĢ“Ķ”ĶTHĢ·Ģ“ER-ŅĢ¢FĶĢ¢LĶ EĶĶ”SĢ¶ĶHĢ· Ģ”SĶPĢ§Ķ”AWĶĶĶNĢ§EĢ·ĢD OĶFĢ¢ Ģ§TĢĶHĶĶEĶ ĢCĶ¢Ģ¶OĢµĢØEĶĢµRĢCIĶĶĶOŅNĢ“Ķ ŅOĢØĢ¶Ģ”FĢ”Ķ” ĶĶMŅĢµAĢ”LĢ”ĶIĢ¶GĶ NAĢµŅNĶ”TŅĢøĶ Ģ¶Ģ”ĶTĶĶĢEĶMĶ”PĶTŅĢ§RĶ”Ķ ĢøEĢØĶSĢĶĢ¢SĶĶEĢ¢S.Ģ¶Ķ ā He inched closer and closer to their faces until he was mere inches away.
The three of them stood and ran from him. They were far gone as he began to recede back into his normal form. His bandages were still unraveled, however. Heād have to fix them momentarily. Several students around the area watched as he turned and trudged on over toā¦ wherever.
āPunishment. Administered.ā He said quietly to himself.
Basic Information
Name:
Harmon Rottlage
Nickname/Alias/Etc:
"Harm-O", as coined by his old friend Leonard Boggs.
Gender:
Male
Age:
19
Height:
5ā11" (without accounting for shards)
Weight:
134.7 lbs (without accounting for shards)
Type:
Full Time Student, Staff Assistant
Appearance
Hair Color:
N/A (no hair)
Eye Color:
N/A (no eyes)
Ethnicity:
Unidentifiable
Physical Appearance:
As far as meta-humans go in terms of physical appearance, Harmon ended up on the wrong side of the gene pool. He possesses a gaunt, pale frame as a result of many years of malnourishment which he has failed or neglected to remedy. His skin is a sickly gray, covered in splits and cracks from birth defects. He possesses no extraneous facial features such as eyes, ears, or a nose. However, in place of the latter two, he has vacant cavities that function much the same as the appropriate appendages would. His lips are surrounded by cracks that extend as his shards develop, capable of reaching up to the shards themselves. Harmonās skin changes as well, becoming more translucent and adopting a red pigmentation as he enters later growth stages, though this has rarely occurred in the past.
Attire:
Harmon is always seen wearing long, white, hooded coat which was left to him by his father back when he lived with the Ivory Deer Community. Besides that, his attire changes from day to day. Heās commonly seen wearing a gray undershirt, beige cargo shorts, and a pair of brown sandals.
Personality
Innate & Outward Personality:
In the past, Harmon was a socially inept wallflower, mostly incapable of coherent speech and horrified at the idea of approaching people, let alone talking to them. Over the recent years, however, he has overcome a lot of his old inhibitions, mostly due to his experience with his two old friends in Black Fall, and partway due to Rubenās tutelage. Harmon today is still quite socially awkward, but no longer to the point where he will cower in fear from someone harmlessly approaching him. He never initiates a conversation with anyone out of the blue unless he has a reason to, but he wonāt shy away from anyone who wants to strike one up with him.
Hobbies/Interests:
Harmon used to obsessively collect batteries, electronics, and other such things. And he still keeps a supply in his room, but he doesnāt go around taking whatever he can find from wherever he can get into. Nowadays, heās solely interested in keeping his current stock intact and operational, should he ever need a backup for anything. When heās not doing that, heās helping Ruben keep his own equipment in working condition.
Skills/Talents:
Harmon is skilled with the construction, repair, and proper maintenance of a large variety of electronic devices. If your phone or your computer are acting weird, he can definitely fix them if you ask him to.
Prized Possession:
Harmon holds his coat in dear regard, seeing as itās all he has left of his estranged father, even though he has never met the man and has no idea what heās like.
Quote(s):
āI know what to seeā¦ when what you seeā¦ isnāt quiteā¦ enoughā¦ā
History/Bio:
Harmon Rottlage was born in 1995 in the secluded Ivory Deer Community Estate, a place where meta-humans of a lessā¦ physically human nature, often congregate and spend most of their days. The Ivory Deer Community has taken in many folks who are seen as walking abominations and freaks of nature, keeping its doors closed to meta-humans who arenāt like them. In the opinion of Wallace Melbrondt, the Ivory Deer himself, those such meta-humans are more deserving of NESTās own direct attention rather than the seclusion he and his associates offer. Melbrondt kept in contact with NEST only because the law demanded it. Otherwise, he would never bother with them.
Harmon himself was the product of a rather surreal relationship between two very, very strange individuals ā a spindly man with horribly malformed (and potent) genitalia, and a blind, hulking dog-woman with shards of metal running down her spine. As a result of an act of artificial insemination, Harmonās conception was one of tragedy. The metal shards in his head tore through his motherās womb, causing her to bleed to death from the inside. His father was promptly blamed for this outcome and cast out of the Ivory Deer Community, and to this day, his status and whereabouts are unknown. Harmon was taken in by the other residents of the estate, and they raised him to the best of their abilities. Unfortunately, things didnāt turn out very well in the end.
Harmon was a troubled child. Straight from birth, his abilities were evident. Indirectly fiddling with televisions and phones. Teleporting through halls randomly. Melbrondt spent years attempting to help the boy but, in the end, he could do nothing. Only Harmonās father knew what to do, and he was well and gone by then. Harmon ended up learning through painful experiences and late-night convulsions what he had to do to keep his powers in check. He plucked shard after shard from his head and tossed them away like scrap paper. This went on for over a decade. Once Harmon had gained a somewhat stable hold over his abilities, he was able to live among the residents in relative peace and comfort. His mental state, however, was still something of a problem. When he was fifteen, he left the estate one night in a state of delusion, and he ended up in the city of Black Fall.
Harmonās life for the next few years was an arduous trod through a day-to-day routine involving scrounging for food and supplies to stay alive, finding a place to lie down every night, the works. His mental condition and physical deformities brought upon him many hardships. A certain NEST agent operating in the city was especially hard on him, often beating the poor boy into submission whenever he brought him in for his annual power checkup. There were points in this time when he thought about allowing the shards in his head to grow unhindered, rendering him immobile and sending him further down the path of madness. That time, however, never came. Harmon was saved by two people; another NEST agent, and a young man living in the slums just like him. Both are now old and dear friends of his. With their help, he managed to improve both his mental health and his level of control over his abilities. After a while, he decided that he had been gone from the Ivory Deer Community for too long, and returned to them one afternoon in the month of May, 2014. They welcomed him with open arms.
Harmon did not stay for long, however. During his time in Black Fall, he had heard a great many things about Academy 218, and in an attempt to further overcome his inhibitions, and possibly make something out of his life, he asked for Melbrondtās assistance in applying. The Ivory Deer accepted and had a letter sent to the staff working there, with an overview of Harmonās abilities included. His profile caught the attention of one of the professors there, and he was invited to attend the Academyās classes. The next day, Harmon bid the residents of the estate farewell, and he was off.
Since then, Harmon has remained a student at the Academy for over a year, and whatās more, an assistant to Professor Tarblatt. His experience with technology and interactions with a variety of meta-humans have made him a both a respected peer and good friend to Ruben. To this day, he grows more and more confident in himself, and it shows in both his work, and his speech. Most other students have avoided him due to his appearance, but there are exceptions. All in all, Harmon is happy. And thatās all that need be, isnāt it?
Family:
Marnine Rottlage ā Mother (deceased) Harris Rottlage ā Father (missing)
Relationships
Ruben Geraltes Tarblatt | Good | Mentor | āGood manā¦ good manā¦ love, love to work with himā¦ helps meā¦ helps me make myselfā¦ betterā¦ā
Leonard Boggs | Good | Old Friend | "Friend! Friend... missed, missed him much... h-happy, he's, he's here..."
Mason Crawford | Neutral | Roommate | "He, uh... he, he's not... the worst I could've been, uh... paired with... he, he seems nice..."
Kayla Kirby | Neutral | New Acquaintance | "She... she seems friendly..."
Mika Baozai | Neutral | Passerby | "Nnnnggg..."
Michelle Gallus | Bad | Classmate | "DĢ”isgĶuŅsĢØtĶinĢ·gĢ¢ cĢ¶rĢµeĢ§aĢ”tĶuĶrĶe."
Abilities
Power Class:
Cerebral, Super-System
Power:
Harmon possesses two distinct powers, both playing into his biological makeup ā specifically, the metal shards in his head. He can interact with any electronically powered devices by melding his consciousness with the electric current inside, and he can teleport varying distances through sheer perception and will.
Harmonās first ability, in further detail, varies in strength and capability depending on the collective stage of growth the shards are in. He can sense the electric current in any appropriate device ā cameras, phones, televisions, speakers, and many more ā and manipulate the current to alter the mechanisms inside, allowing him to interact with the device in a variety of ways depending on its base functions. Anything with a monitor can act as a point of visual perspective for him, his most common usage of this power. He can also will any degree of imagery on a monitor system for others to see, though this also comes as an unwarranted occurrence sometimes, giving away his presence within the device if he is trying to remain covert. With enough concentration, he can cause certain devices to malfunction or break down permanently. In the later stages of his growth cycle, he can even cause them to explode, or manipulate them to operate beyond their intended functions ā monitors emitting blinding flashes of light, speakers blasting out static at over a hundred decibels, and other such potentially harmful happenings.
Harmonās secondary ability is being able to teleport himself, and anything or anyone he is in physical contact with at the time, across varying distances. This level of teleportation in particular does not involve travel through a separate dimension ā meaning itās instantaneous. Any direction Harmon can visually perceive, he can teleport to. The visual indicator of the act of teleporting is heralded by an array of static ripples and distortions across his body, and othersā as well if heās bringing them with him.
Limits:
As stated before, both of these abilities vary in effectiveness depending on the growth stage of the metal shards embedded in Harmonās scalp. A fresh grooming means he is essentially powerless, incapable of doing more than seeing through a camera in his hands. The shards also carry with them a severe level of influence over Harmonās mental stability and level of cognitive recollection. During the shardsā early stages, Harmonās thought processes are disjointed and his memories are all blurred and unrecognizable. As the stages advance, Harmon passes through a period of relative stability and awareness, and then gradually shifts into a psychological down-state, becoming unresponsive to social stimuli and wandering aimlessly, losing control of his abilities. If this continues for much longer, he enters a comatose state, and the sheer force of the shardsā channeling causes his memories and psyche to further deteriorate permanently.
Weaknesses/Drawbacks:
Harmon holds a deep fear of lightning and magnetism, both being very, very capable of killing him on the spot. Being that he has metal shards in his head, any electrical current that comes into contact with them will go straight to his brain, resulting in instant death. Heavy levels of magnetism will also cause a very painful tugging sensation in Harmonās head, easily incapacitating (if not killing) him.
Other:
Harmonās NEST identification number is #7431285.
White noise has a calming effect on Harmon when he is in his late stages of shard growth. Such is useful for keeping him under control so that the shards can be properly removed.
Sample Post:
Harmon watched the screen flicker, alternating between static and brief images of anatomical scans of his own cranium.
āAre you. Seeing it. Clearly.ā Ruben said to him.
āNot quiteā¦ā Harmon responded. He was seated on a stool before a computer monitor, attempting to produce an accurate visual depiction of his own brain based on some scans that Ruben had taken just prior. Thinking up random, disturbing images was easy. Constructing something from monochromatic images into a full, three-dimensional display? Not quite. He cradled his head as the static on the screen began to recede back into an image, and slowly but surely, his brain etched itself across the screen.
Swollen. Sickly yellow. Infused with strands of metal, rising like roots up to the shards in his head.
āIs it. Accurate.ā Ruben said.
A few more faint flashes of static, and the screen was finally stable. Harmon raised his hand, holding a camera towards the monitor. He observed the image intently, analyzing it. He slowly nodded his head and replied, āYesā¦ yes, itās, itās accurateā¦ā
āGood.ā Ruben replied, āI will study. The feed. And prepare. An operation. Later.ā He raised one of his tendrils and placed it upon Harmonās shoulder. āEverything. Will be fine. Harmon.ā He said to him.
Harmon nodded in agreement, and the monitor switched to black.
Much to Rubenās ire, he has adopted nicknames along the lines of āMetalheadā and āMeatfuckerā from some of those he has met and mentored.
Gender:
Androgynous (formerly male)
Age:
45
Height:
6ā7 (on average)
Weight:
344.5 lbs (on average)
Type:
Teacher
Appearance
Hair Color:
N/A (no hair, formerly brown)
Eye Color:
N/A (no eyes, formerly green)
Ethnicity:
N/A (formerly Caucasian)
Physical Appearance:
Rubenās āheadā is hidden from view by his Brainvault. The rest of him is nothing but a disgusting slurry of raw meat, organs, sinewy bones, and muscles. He often shapes himself into the closest thing to a human body he can muster.
Attire:
The closest thing Ruben has to clothes is his Brainvault Type 2, a cranial device designed by his colleagues and modified by Ruben himself. It resembles a metal sphere with several ports and antennae protruding from it, a bumper system to protect from sudden impacts, a voice box that translates his verbal thoughts to comprehendible speech, and other such devices. Ruben wraps his body in gauze to keep his true form from public view, though it tends to seep after a while, meaning he has to reapply it often, especially after he changes form. It puts most people off, as you can imagine.
Personality
Innate & Outward Personality:
Towards others, Ruben is a kind and curious intellectual. He respects the nature and opinions of others and rarely, rarely displays a negative attitude. This is marred, however, by his appearance. Often taken for a monster at first glance, he usually has to be introduced by someone aware of his āconditionā before he can formally introduce himself. He enjoys interaction with others and values those who donāt judge him immediately for his bizarre appearance, or the cryptic and obscure mannerisms by which he speaks.
On the inside, Ruben is nothing but a constant thinker. He always scans his immediate surroundings, thinking about everything and everyone around him before himself. He is very analytical but does his best to keep his observations to himself unless someone brings them up.
Hobbies/Interests:
Ruben spends a great deal of his free time working on his Brainvault Type 3, an upgrade to his current rig which he theorizes will be able to protect him from psionic assault and manipulation, which he is still somewhat susceptible to. Besides that, he enjoys his research, maintaining his health, walking about, observing his surroundings, and chatting with others who allow him to.
Skills/Talents:
Ruben, being the studious and over-thinking sludge he is, has a knack for mind games and puzzles, able to solve them relatively quickly compared to others.
Prized Possession:
Ruben doesnāt necessarily hold any one object in great sentimental regard, but he does take extensive care of his Brainvaults, both the one he wears currently and the one heās working on upgrading. He used to carry his original Brainvault as a reminder of the kindness his colleagues showed them, but he left it with them after he was invited to Academy 218. They considered it something to remember him by.
Quote(s):
āMeat. Bone. Flesh. Not forever. Not all. The mind, is. The soul, too.ā
History/Bio:
Ruben Geraltes Tarblatt was born in rural England, on the outer side of the country. He was raised by two loving parents along with his older sister Marietta, eleven at the time of his conception. Originally a mere farm boy, his youth was flooded with the ideas and intrigues of science and engineering, brought upon by rudimentary textbooks and posters he had beheld at his elementary school. His father, despite having no interest in any scientific fields, supported his sonās eagerness to do whatever he wished, confident heād make a successful career out of it. Ruben soon devoted himself to the broad study of biology, at first simply intending to study human physicality. That changed, however, when he learned of meta-humans.
At such a young age, Ruben was bewildered by the stories he heard of people capable of bending reality, changing form, and mastering control over the elements. He studied meta-human energy, ashing, everything that was readily available to him. While this wasnāt really what his school was versed in teaching its students, he pursued it nonetheless. His family was less than keen on this, but they allowed it to continue. In his later teenage years, he applied for a scholarship to a university in the United States. He told his family that it would give him the chance to learn much, much more, and potentially enact the foundation of a career, perhaps as a doctor or some other form of medical researcher. In truth, he had heard of a program going on in the university that focused on understanding meta-humans, their abilities, origins, everything. It was the next best thing to the illustrious Academy 218, which he had absolutely no chance of attending thanks to his mundane genetics, much to his displeasure. It took some convincing, but the family eventually agreed, and off they went to live in America.
A time later, when Ruben was 22, he ended up as a junior researcher in the MHS (Meta-Human Studies) Program on the eastern coast of the US. His father got a job in a steel mill, and his mother stayed at home. By this time, his older sister had become rather distant from the family, claiming Ruben had taken control and didnāt care about their wellbeing. There was some truth to her words, but her parents didnāt enjoy hearing it. She came back to the house less and less often and, eventually, left off on her own completely. Ruben, in all his blind eagerness to learn and progress, wasnāt made aware of his sisterās departure until after his mother passed away from old age. Ruben slowed down some at this point, returning to his home and comforting his grieving father. Hugo, however, didnāt seem to acknowledge his company like he used to. During this time, Ruben was offered a spot in an experimental trial as a lab assistant. The project was geared towards the creation of raw meta-energy and studying its uses and applications. Ruben was torn between accepting the offer or remaining with his estranged father and caring for him in his declining health and mental state.
Ultimately, Ruben took the offer and abandoned his father. Hugo died soon after, early one morning, alone and in his bed, having not eaten anything since his son left him. Ruben refused to dwell on the issue and completely devoted himself to the project.
Several years passed. Progress on the meta-energy project was slow and had reached a low point, almost on the verge of losing its funding and meta-human volunteers, most of which werenāt confident in the project in the first place. One night, Ruben had decided to stay in the lab late while his colleagues left. His spirits were already low, but that night, he got the kicker. While he was going over dead-end data readings over a vat of residual meta-energy combined with other experimental chemicals, he received an email from his sister. Hesitant, he opened the message.
Ruben,
I came back to the house last night. I thought Iād make amends with Dad after you left him. Try and patch things up. I came back and heās not there. A neighbor who worked with him at the mill told me heās dead and buried in the cemetery downtown. I ran to my car and I cried. I was so sad and angry at you, and I still am. I know I left Mom and Dad but I thought about it every day. You didnāt. I thought if I came back, nothing would happen. Theyād be happy to see me but nothing would have changed for them. Iād still end up leaving, theyād still be together. But I at least wanted to do something for them after feeling so terrible about myself for so long. I donāt know if I should be angrier at myself for not going back sooner, or absolutely furious at you for not even caring. But there are so many other reasons. You pushed us to move to America for your own education, not mine, and not for Mom or Dadās interests. You made them spend all their money on a dead-end project. And you abandoned them both in the end. Everything that happened was your fault. I thought I could forgive you years ago somehow, but because of all this, that will never happen. Youāre horrible. You left Mom and Dad to die and you never even cared.
Youāre not my brother. Donāt you dare respond to this.
That did it. Ruben normally would have just tried to shake it off but, this time, it pushed him over the edge. After a fit of hysteric crying and trashing the computer, Ruben pulled a gun meant for protection from the station drawer. He screamed at himself and fought between going through with suicide or backing out and remaining as miserable as he was. In the end, he weighed in favor of the former. Standing over the vat, he put the gun in his mouth and fired.
And he fell in.
The laboratory alarms sounded across the facility grounds. The project team were all alerted while they were asleep or out on the town for the night. When a few of them made it to the facility as quickly as they were capable of, they immediately found the vat and theā¦ thing that was inside. One of the researchers immediately activated the emergency bottom valve, no pipe present. The beheld the organism inside; a sopping mess of meat, flesh and bone, all somehow connected to a brain that seemed perfectly intact. Almost instinctively, they set up a crude but stable life support station and connected the brain to it. That same night, they learned that it was Ruben; they found his encased ID tag lodged inside the flesh, the protective cover able to withstand whatever turned him intoā¦ what he became. The next day, they set up a neural interface terminal and connected it to Rubenās brain. When they questioned Ruben about what happened, about the gunā¦ he didnāt tell them. He just kept begging them to find a way to āstabilizeā him. He was in pain.
The project team then turned their efforts towards figuring out what happened to Ruben and how to stabilize him. They laid him out on a table and scanned him, discovering the neural tendrils reaching out from his brain stem. Ruben attempted to move them but was incapable of doing so. The team spent the next week gathering the appropriate materials to create the prototype āBrainvaultā, or so they dubbed it. It was designed to sense Rubenās thoughts and stimulate the tendrils through sheer thought alone, in order to perform action and movement. It took time, but they constructed the prototype and placed Rubenās brain inside of it.
Miraculously, it worked.
Ruben was then capable of controlling the tendrils and, in sequence, controlling the slurry that surrounded them. He practiced over time, shifting and reworking his new āneural stemā in order to replicate a functioning, mobile body. After months of practice, he was able to create his own system of muscles, bones, nerves, everything. He couldnāt do it without the Brainvault, however, so he was forced to survive through use of a liquid nutrient which, thankfully, was easy to brew. The team eventually forgot about the night the incident occurred, more focused on helping Ruben adapt. As expected, however, the teamās efforts made public news.
People were bewildered at first, but in the wake of developing matters regarding meta-humans, Rubenās condition didnāt seem so strange to them. They simply assumed he was another meta-human which, in a way, he had become. The residual meta-energy detected within his neural stem had given him the ability to āmeldā with any organic material the stem touched. He discovered this when he managed to āpeel backā the meat and flesh to reveal a tendril, and touched an amputated arm (which had originally come from a regenerating meta-human) on a sheer whim. He watched it connect to the tendril, and afterwards, assimilate with the rest of his form. Now, that was what scared the team at first, but Ruben assured them he wasnāt going to end up like the Thing. He was too rational for that, or so he claimed.
In the years that passed, Ruben became a figure of note on the topic of meta-energy studies. Using his ability to connect to other peopleās minds through neural contact, an ability his colleagues theorized and asked him to test, he pooled together enough collective knowledge to advance his teamās research into residual meta-energy manipulation. This led to a relative breakthrough in regenerative medical technology and programs capable of assisting super-system and cerebral class meta-humans in controlling, and even advancing, their abilities. This eventually caught the ear of the staff at Academy 218, and they invited him to visit the grounds and consider an opportunity as a professor. In the end, he took the job and left his remaining work up to his colleagues. He has been with the Academy two years since, offering courses to cerebral and super-system class students.
Family:
Amelia Tarblatt ā Mother (deceased) Hugo Tarblatt ā Father (deceased) Marietta Tarblatt ā Older sister, 56
Relationships
None yet.
Abilities
Power Class:
Cerebral, Super-System
Power:
Rubenās body is made up of a slurry comprised of both his meat, bone and flesh, and that of several bovines which he assimilated with years ago for utility purposes. Buried inside this slurry is a series of red stems that provide a neural link between Rubenās brain and any organic matter he comes into contact with. This link, when not conflicted over by a separate consciousness, allows Ruben to control the slurry to almost no limit of extent, at least physically. He can mold the slurry into a pseudo-human body, or anything animalistic or otherwise that he is capable of perceiving, but is restricted to the overall greatest size he is capable of achieving. He can form muscles, joints, tendons, tendrils, bones, tissues, membranes, proboscises and many more, all with an accompanying gnashing, retching sound that can only be described as absolutely disgusting.
Rubenās secondary ability, cerebral in nature, is more āintuitiveā. The neural stems originating from his brain are capable of linking to other brains via physical contact. He can access other peopleās thoughts, memories, dreams, nightmares, etc. This is, of course, seen as terrible violation of oneās privacy. Ruben never uses this ability unless he absolutely must, and only if he has the explicit permission of whoever is involved.
Limits:
Rubenās Brainvault is constructed in a way that it is capable of condensing the slurry inside to a smaller but equal-in-mass portion (with the help of a chemical that only he knows how to create), though this space is not unlimited. It expands when it exits the Brainvault, which Ruben has to shape into something quickly or else it will randomize its own physical outcome. As of current, the amount of slurry inside the Brainvault is at maximum capacity (around three-hundred pounds of organic material), meaning Ruben cannot assimilate with anything else without being forced to make it an extension of his exterior body.
Weaknesses/Drawbacks:
Being comprised of nothing but a slurry of organic materials, Ruben is, of course, susceptible to open flames and very high temperatures. As well, being frozen solid is something he doesnāt enjoy in particular.
Other:
Ruben is not necessarily a fan of Shakespeare, but he does find some sense of relation to an excerpt from Hamlet, Act I Scene II.
O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fixād His canon āgainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
Sample Post:
āOh yeah, Meatfucker? What are you gonna do?ā
Ruben despised that moniker. The inappropriate and audacious nomenclature behind it made him writhe in disgust and disappointment. He stood before the three students, who were sitting on a bench and tossing rude remarks and insults to passersby. āCease this activity. Or punishment. Will be. Administered.ā He said to them, his speech jointed by the operations of his voice box. The supposed leader of the trio sneered and turned his head.
That did it.
Rubenās Brainvault began to rise above the students. His arms split and extended outward, unraveling the gauze tape wrapped around his body. He peered downward at them, the lights on his Brainvault turning red. āTĶ hĶ¢e gĢØreaĶtĶnĶeĢ¶sĢØsĶ¢ oĢ“f ĢcoĢ§arseĶ ĢµkinĢøgĶsŅ iĢsĶ Ķ wroĢ“ughtĶ” ĢbyĢø tĶhĢøeĢ Ķ¢tĶreĢ”mĶblĢµiĶnĢ¢gĢ¶ Ģ§oŅfĶ ĢøungĢ”raĢ·tĶeĶ”fulĢø iĢnĢ“sĢeĶ¢cĶtĢ”sĶ.ā He said to them. They began to rear back in terror as the professorsā spindly meat tendrils crept towards them. āAĶ¢LĢ§ĶLĢ“ Ģ¶ĢWĶ¢Ķ ILLĢ·Ģ Ķ ĶBĢ·Ģ§ĶEĶ Ģ·ĢµCĢ“OĶNĢØĢ¢SĶĢ·UĢ”MĶ¢EĶDĢ· ĢBĢ·YĢµĢ§ TĢ§ĢØĢHĶ¢E Ģ“Ģ¶Ģ”FAĢ“Ķ”ĶTHĢ·Ģ“ER-ŅĢ¢FĶĢ¢LĶ EĶĶ”SĢ¶ĶHĢ· Ģ”SĶPĢ§Ķ”AWĶĶĶNĢ§EĢ·ĢD OĶFĢ¢ Ģ§TĢĶHĶĶEĶ ĢCĶ¢Ģ¶OĢµĢØEĶĢµRĢCIĶĶĶOŅNĢ“Ķ ŅOĢØĢ¶Ģ”FĢ”Ķ” ĶĶMŅĢµAĢ”LĢ”ĶIĢ¶GĶ NAĢµŅNĶ”TŅĢøĶ Ģ¶Ģ”ĶTĶĶĢEĶMĶ”PĶTŅĢ§RĶ”Ķ ĢøEĢØĶSĢĶĢ¢SĶĶEĢ¢S.Ģ¶Ķ ā He inched closer and closer to their faces until he was mere inches away.
The three of them stood and ran from him. They were far gone as he began to recede back into his normal form. His bandages were still unraveled, however. Heād have to fix them momentarily. Several students around the area watched as he turned and trudged on over toā¦ wherever.
āPunishment. Administered.ā He said quietly to himself.
It's been pretty much decided that Henry and Kayla are going to take down the electrokinetic Aggressor, so you three can talk and decide how you'd like to kill the one with the minigun.
Member
ML
Enarr
