Shard

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

New York City, Belzimet's Chamber

Demonic Whispers

"Your ashes will paint the soles of my feet, boy!"- Belzimet

The heavy odor of sulfur would proceed to easily overpower the otherwise damp and dust induced air. Brightly illuminating the darkness, this foe of otherworldly proportions burned with the very touch of hell itself, the embers growing ever larger as it regained a strength previously dormant beneath an ancient verdict. "Your fear is growing." The beast spoke, its voice hinting at a masculine biology given is androgynous appearance. "Nothing soothes the heart like the intoxicating scent of humans pissing themselves in fear, their pathetic frames coated in a layer of sweat elevated by the presence of my hell fire!" In reaction to the word of inferno's flames, the demon stomped his large foot onto the ground, causing large cracks to thunder closer to Milo as the boy stood clenching his teeth as to not keel over. Masamune's resolution surely helped the feat, though this demon's imposing threats grew all the more vicious as his flames licked his stone like frame like a caressing embrace. "Belzimet! Know that name, boy, for it shall be your soul's lord and master!"

"Belzimet." Masamune repeated, his echoing voice soothing in comparison to the foe sizing the boy down, dwarfing him in the presence of hell's very own. "He's a demon of war. Used to be a commander before he fell from his position and got sealed in here." Raising his massive fist, Belzimet rammed the clenched appendage towards Milo who quickly dodged out of the way, throwing his weightless frame to the side before gracefully rolling back to his feet. Even with the power of regeneration, meeting Belzimet's attacks head on would surely end this battle. Seeing how his massive strike not only left a crumbling crater in the floor but also dancing embers licking the area of impact, one could draw the conclusion that Belzimet's prison would soon come to perish under his berserker rage.

"Any weak spots...?" Milo turned to the blade's wisdom as Masamune had proven his knowledge in otherworldly entities. The demon's stone like hide appeared incredibly durable and no normal blade would have the ability to pierce its thickness. However, Masamune was no normal blade, and such was proven as Belzimet attempted another attack.

Though the initial force of impact missed his small target, Belzimet's flames ran viciously across Milo's chest and cindered his t-shirt to the point of ashes, leaving a devastating burn along his flesh. Though the wound neigh instantly healed, the demonic flames hurt unlike anything Milo had ever endured. This painful maneuver would however proceed to leave Belzimet open for a peerless strike as Masamune's magical edge met with the monster's demonic flesh and tore the tissue apart as the blade left a bleeding wound upon the demon's side. Rather than blood, a flaming liquid reminiscent of lava leaked from the vicious wound, forcing an anguished scream from the demon as he was unused to the searing touch of pain.

"How?!" The only word leaving the beast's lips as he flailed his arms around in savage anger was one of confusion. This time however, Milo was prepared for the infernal continuation of Belzimet's attacks, the whipping fire circling the monster like a serpent. With a dexterous back flip, Milo managed to dodge the entirety of Belzimet's strikes but found himself desperately clinging to breath. The fire was consuming the very air around them, replacing it with smoke and cinder. The hellish wound placed on Milo's now naked chest was one of devastating proportions and stole an incredible amount of energy as it reformed to a healthy state, leaving the boy fatigued and questioning if New York was the right decision.

"Pull yourself together, Milo! We can do this!" Despite the incredible foe destroying their surroundings, Masamune had proven his mythic power by surpassing the demon's otherwise impenetrable hide. Tightly wrapping his fingers around the blade's black hilt, Milo charged forth and counted on the demon's temporarily confused state to dance between his frenzied attacks, avoiding the infernal fire as the boy continued to plunge Masamune into the demon's stomach and tore open his abdomen, sliding the blade out from Belzimet's side. Another scream echoed throughout the hellish darkness, accompanied by Milo's gasp of pain as Belzimet's boiling blood splashed onto him and forced the boy to back away from the demon's frame.

Completely taken over by a raging frenzy, Belzimet slammed his massive form against walls and ground alike, leaping into the darkened air before viciously landing upon the prison's stone foundation. The astounding impact caused the already damaged ground to cave in on itself, shattering and cracking as the massive stone bent beneath Belzimet's weight. The impact did not linger before sending both Milo and Belzimet to the depths below.

This was however an opened door, allowing for a counter attack. Jumping from one boulder to the next, Milo caught the moment with an iron fist and placed his foot on the demon's chest before launching himself towards the beast's skull, sinking Masamune into the demon's cranium. All the while, however, Belzimet had managed to grab hold of Milo's frame and nearly crushed the boy's slender body beneath his burning strength, had Masamune's devastating blade not ended this fight seconds before they all connected with the water below. Doused from both fire and life, Belzimet crumbled like an ancient statue as his essence was snuffed out, not exorcised but destroyed.

Unsummoning Masamune, Milo reached for the stony edge and pulled himself out of the cold, revolting water he had found himself in and quickly fell to his back upon solid ground, his chest rising and lowering rapidly in response to his heavy breathing. "Disgusting..."

"Hey, you needed a bath after that." Masamune responded with a chuckle now that the threat had ceased.

"Not in sewer water...!" Indeed, the sewers. Milo had survived his meeting with a demon, albeit by the skin of his teeth, and slew the beast with the mighty Masamune in hand, only to land in a river of filth, shirtless and breathless. No one said this job was going to be glamorous, after all.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

New York City

Demonic Whispers

The thick, endless darkness drowned the subway tracks in a more than natural manner. It was ominous, as if shadowy tendrils reaching from forgotten corners of the world, wrapping themselves around Milo in an attempt to pull him in. Each step added weight to the next, making it incredibly difficult to traverse the darkness effectively. Though the air grew heavier, a certain chill crept through the darkness and spared no time before it traveled down the boy's spine. Fear, it was an emotion Milo had not gotten well acquainted with in the past, an emotion mainly erased during his bionic creation. Though, only a fool would venture into strangling darkness without an aura of terror clinging close. "Something's up ahead, be careful."

It did not require a spirit sword to sense the presence lingering within the blackness. One thing was growing all the more obvious, something sending icicles through Milo's blood like a blizzard embracing nightmares. A gulp slid down his throat, the boy's heartbeat accelerating by the second.

As he venture deeper, the concept of sound became foreign to the boy as nothing could be heard apart from his own, desperate breaths. What kind of otherworldly entity could warp reality in such a manner? Though the heating sun resided above ground, it felt like countless ice cold needles sunk themselves into Milo's skin.

Struggling through the predicaments, the boy would finally reach a larger rune inscribed into the wall. Rubble and debris laid scattered upon the ruined tracks and it was clear that no one had been here for years on end. "I think we were wrong..." Milo spoke, hugging himself in an attempt to keep his exposed arms from succumbing to the cold.

Yeah." Masamune responded, his voice turning to a more serious note. "Those runes were never meant to keep people out, Milo."

"They are keeping something in..." At this point, only a fool would press on. The chilling winds were nearly intolerable, and the darkness was stealing every single breath it could manage, but Milo had not come this far only to turn back. Summoning Masamune's flawless edge, the boy stabbed it through the stone wall, piercing the rune and shattered the magic binding whatever resided beyond. Of course, the act was one of recklessness but as the seals were weakening, there was no telling when the entity beyond would shatter their binds and break free.

In response to Milo's action, a hidden path was revealed. The stone wall allowed for a small part to lift and move, allowing entry to a large set of stairs leading down into the abyss. The cold was gone and rather replaced by a moment of scorching heat. Such immediate differences in temperature was a shocking change but at this point, one should not be surprised by the supernatural outcomes taking place in the old, forgotten subway.

"Woah! How did you know that would work, kid?"

"I didn't..." Milo returned, swallowing his fears as he took a step down the stairs. Stabbing a magic sword through a magic barrier was however something most would attempt in the pursuit of breaking a seal. Their weakened state certainly helped the dispelling.

"You're just improvising all the way, aren't you?" There was honestly little else one could do in a situation such as this. Milo could barely see two feet in front of himself.

Pretty much..." The boy finished, gripping his blade tightly as he descended the seemingly endless amount of stairs. Though fear continued to grip him tightly, the heat was subsiding and only continued to do so as he got more and more used to its touch. However, upon reaching the bottom, Milo found himself in a large room framed by thick stone walls. In the middle one could clearly see a pentagram drawn in what appeared to be long since dried blood. That was however not what stuck out, not by a long shot.

Heavy iron shackles bound the entity within, wrapping themselves around its limbs and forced it to the ground. However, as it was, the chains were corroded and decomposing. They would not hold for much longer and such was apparent when the beast within the pentagram broke free from their confines.

"That scent..." It began, a rumbling voice shaking the very earth below its feet. "The scent of sweat and fear filling the air like perfume blanketing the very wastes of hell. Such a delight." Wide eyes stared at the beast now stretching its hulking body, tearing itself loose from the chains. A demon, a demon had been sealed away beneath New York city and had now freed itself from the seals no longer capable of holding it down.

Large, horrible claws donned the creature's thick fingers, tremendous fangs residing within its mouth. Hell fire streamed through the demon's body, as if veins pumping blood through its frame. Truly, an astonishing sight, Milo found himself speechless in the presence of this horror, his hands quickly finding home on Masamune's hilt. Taking a step back, he felt the sweat dripping from his forehead as his entire body trembled in response to the threat facing him. "Ah, such a small little creature, you are." The demon continued, reaching its hand forth and utterly destroyed the pentagram keeping the demon within. "And you ooze the intoxicating scent of fear. How exciting! It's been too long."

"Milo!" Masamune pierced the doubts. "You can't let that thing out of here! We have to kill it, now!"

"Yeah..." Clenching his teeth, the boy's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Fears be damned, he could not let this thing free. Milo wanted bigger fry after leaving Lost Haven. He got a whole menu.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

New York City

Demonic Whispers

Accounting for the changes, it was safe to say that the thought of normalcy was a concept Milo had left behind when he stepped onto the train for New York a few days back. It was true what they said about the big city, about its highly supernatural underground community. Perhaps community was the wrong word to use in describing New York's denizens of darkness, but as it was, Milo found himself within their world only days after arriving. Darkness calls to those it would like to claim, as it was. Tracing his fingers over the barely visible marks scratched into the wall, the boy found himself asking the question of why in a repeated fashion.

The constant dripping of a leaking pipe added to an eerie atmosphere made thicker by a heavy scent fogging the long since abandoned subway. It was safe to say that no one in their right mind frequented such a location, other than the homeless and those of less savory ilk. As it was, Milo was in short supply of decent spots to sleep, thus an old, abandoned subway fit the criteria. It was quiet, empty and most of all, it was somewhat safe. In the future, one could consider erecting a hideout in one of the distant corners of this underworld. Perhaps safe was misplaced, however. Indeed, it was safe from the mundane world but one should not toss aside the darkness of New York so casually. Beneath the tumbling city above, beneath the heavily trampled ground resided denizens Lost Haven could only dream of.

One such path to the abyss was carved into the stone wall. Milo ran his thin fingers over the markings, feeling the etched surface against his skin as it was barely visible to one's eyes. This was the third such etching he had come across so far. What did it mean? It could have been nothing but a boy's imagination, though Milo felt more than a little uncomfortable in the presence of these carvings. It was what brought him towards them, what lured him from the bench he called a bed for the past few days. Indeed, there was a story behind these symbols but where did it lead, how did it sound when words reached a person's lips? Turning to the more experienced individual in the duo, Milo found himself indulging in Masamune's wisdom more than once throughout his search. "Looks like cult symbols." Shedding light on the mystery at hand, Masamune shared what he knew but it was a stretch to assume his knowledge on the mystery so early on.

"So then these might be wards..." Milo continued, his assumption holding merit within the odd sensation running through his body upon coming in contact with the symbol. Though faint and old, the energy within remained a remnant of ancient magic, be it drained and weak at this point.

"Well done, Milo! There's some wits in the noggin' of yours after all." A loud chuckle filled the boys head, earning Masamune a sigh and roll of Milo's eyes. The blade was a tease to say the least, its witty remarks often at the expense of its master. Though, Milo didn't mind much as the lighthearted personality accompanying him on his travels shed some light on an otherwise dark situation. "This means that the little cult following should be close by. You know, if they haven't packed up and left."

"Worth a look..." The boy finished, following the stone wall as he continued through the dark tunnel. Would this subway still be in use, many trains would come and ago across the rusty rails but as it was, one could traverse the ruined path without such obstacles. The heavy atmosphere and dust particles freely flowing through the damp air made it rather difficult to breathe as Milo delved deeper into the darkness but the occasional light bulb, though flickering and dim, allowed for limited vision.

"So, how do you like New York so far, kid?" One could argue that this was no time for casual conversations, though Masamune had proven such assumptions wrong time and time again.

"Big..." Larger than Lost Haven, Milo had never been much for enormous cities. The people, the stirring, the endless days, it was like living in constant rush hour. Of course, some parts of the city had their charm but Milo didn't come to take in the sights. Ten minutes turned to thirty and Milo found himself deeper into the darkness, the air growing heavier with each step. It would be foolish to dismiss the continued feeling of eerie discomfort accompanying the darkness, though at this point it was safe to assume magical intervention.

Something was stirring in the dark, something which could never reach the surface lest many lives be lost in its wake. Indeed, Masamune made sure to warn Milo of the dangers ahead, but it didn't hinder the boy's progress. He had come to New York to combat these beings, the denizens of the dark, and something did indeed stir within the confines of this underworld. Like ominous whispers, Milo found himself drawn deeper into the abyss in an attempt to uncover the veil to see what resided below.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Name:
Angelo D'Montes

Ethnicity:
Lebanese (Adopted by a French family after birth.)

Age:
265 (Appears 20)

Languages:
Fluent in French, Arabic and English.

Alias:
Hunter

Speech Color:
00aeef

Character Alignment:
Hero

Identity:
Secret

Character Personality:
Some would describe Angelo as arrogant, others would claim he is confidant and a few would simply aknowledge that he lacks natural mortality. Being a mutant, these individuals would be correct, however while Angelo lacks many of the moral values considered a norm in human society, he finds humans quite interesting and watches them much like one would watch a flower bloom. The mutant is an incredibly carefree individual driven by passion and experience. Undoubtedly experienced in many a thing throughout his life, Angelo has claimed that human society brings with it entertainment in abundance which keeps him interested in political struggles and social structures.

Of course, a supernaturally passionate being isn't all that Angelo is. Indeed, he is quite social, almost to a fault. Getting to know new individuals is something he highly values and gaining closer friends is nothing that would be considered entirely impossible for him. While on the subject, Angelo doesn't appear to have much of a personal space. He's cuddly, enjoys hugs and appears to be rather close in his approach.

Playful is another keyword used to describe Angelo. He doesn't seem to be serious all that often and sees mostly everything as a game. While in tune with his ranged capabilities on a master's level, it has been noted that Angelo sometimes prefers to use his witty tongue as a means of attack rather than a bullet. Chasing petty murderers isn't far too uncommon but he finds it far more entertaining to participate in verbal battles, a clash of wills. The main reason for this is his unending curiosity in what drives humanity to commit the actions they strive for. Curious, yes much like a cat, Angelo's curiosity appears to know no bounds.

Angelo is incredibly blunt and dances around the subject only if it entertains him. Otherwise the mutant does not waste his time with what is morally acceptable to say and what isn't. One could say that he is liberal on an extreme level and they'd be right.

Character Appearance:
Slender, exotic, beautiful, these are three words used to describe the mutant known by the name of Angelo. Like from a scene in an Arabic tale describing a beautiful prince, Angelo bears himself with pride and possesses a smile upon a pair of red lips. Large brown eyes would peer at whomever gazed back at the middle easterner, a charming addition indeed. Standing at 5'7" feet, Angelo would be considered the norm for a young middle eastern male and possesses a lean, slender frame. The lack of muscle upon his body would not be considered a lack of attraction, however. Rather than muscles, the young man walks with a graceful body preferring grace rather than brawn.

Perhaps considered effeminate as masculine features are rather toned down, Angelo enjoys wearing accessories and doesn't shy away from showing off the natural beauty bestowed upon him. Adopting the casual wear of Converse shoes, Angelo is quite drawn to strong colors and often wears pink or purple colored shoes. Of course, more mellow colors like dark blue and black are not considered unfamiliar to him.

Considering it a shame to hide that flawless skin beneath his clothes, Angelo feels most at home in black tank tops which lick his frame tightly and highlight the thin, slender torso below. From cargo pants to jeans, Angelo wears what he feels fits the situation but is rarely ever seen without a vast array of leather bracelets across his forearms. The fingerless leather gloves more often than not donning his hands range in color from black to a bright pink with additions such as small diamonds upon their surface being a common sight.

With thick black hair atop his head, Angelo is not beyond dyeing the strands to add some color to an otherwise completely dark haircut. Streaks of pink can be clearly seen starting from the roots of his hair and travels down to the tip of his bangs on the left side of his head.

An expression of confidence remains upon his visage as if a casual look, sometimes mistaken with arrogance but he'd assure you otherwise. Fitting his frame, Angelo has a rather exotic voice painted quite mystical given his aura.

Uniform/costume:
Angelo wears a high tech, tactical ops gear designed by his dear friend Leyla. The suit allows for silent, fluid movements and offers basic protection. The mask renders the user immune to gas based weapons and allows for night and thermal vision. Angelo also has direct contact with Leyla through a communications device located within the mask.

Angelo's Gear

Weapons:
Angelo deploys a variety of different long ranged weapons, depending on the mission at hand. He does however always carry a pistol for self defense. During missions, Angelo arms himself with a sidearm and one main weapon. Anything else would weigh him down.

Each of Angelo's guns are heavily modified with an emphasis on tactical operations. As such, his weaponry cannot hold normal bullets and they have been greatly silenced to avoid a gun's typical, loud entry.

Guns:

Submachine Gun

Sniper

Pistol

Bullets:
Angelo detests killing when other options are available. As such, Leyla has developed non-lethal projectiles Angelo loads into his guns. Some situations require a different approach, however.

Non-lethal Bullets:
Electro Bullets
Angelo's most common form of ammunition. Electro Bullets do not physically harm the target, but rather stuns them with high voltage which causes fainting.

Paralysis Bullets
Sometimes high voltage isn't what's needed. Paralysis Bullets temporarily shut off a body part hit by the projectile. These bullets are used to incapacitate a target while keeping them awake for questioning.

Lethal Bullets:
Silver Bullets
There are things out there far beyond human understanding and belief. Luckily, many of them are vulnerable to silver.

Incendiary Bullets
Projectiles that get set on fire once they penetrate the target. Used against vampires and the like, when Silver Bullets just don't pack enough of a punch.

Cryo Bullets
Much like Incendiary Bullets, these projectiles are classed as elemental. However, instead of fire, they emit extreme cold upon reaching their target, freezing the area of impact.

Origin Info/Details:
(I'd prefer to reveal the details of this in character.)

Notable events Angelo has participated in:
World War 1
"Not the most glamorous time of my life."

World War 2
"At it again? Well, at least they've got better weaponry."

Hero Type:
Marksman

Power Level:
City Level

Powers:


Short Explanation:
The ability to replicate any inanimate object within a frame of limitations. The ability also allows for a passive adjustment to the user's frame which is described below. Each replica created by Angelo is in all intents and purposes the real thing, meaning it's an exact copy. After an item comes in contact with his skin, a replica will build itself into existence as if building blocks appearing on top of each other until the item is fully created. The process begins from where the item was touched and is nearly instantaneous. It is also worth noting that the replica will appear in the same hand Angelo used to touch the item in question.

Active Ability (Limitations):
Contact
Angelo's skin needs to come in physical contact with the item he intends to replicate, preferably with his fingers.

Weight
The item cannot weigh more than two pounds.

Quantity
Angelo can replicate up to three items. A fourth would replace the first. As long as the item in question doesn't weigh over two pounds, Angelo can replicate everything contained within a single unit.

Supernatural Items
While supernatural effects can be replicated along with the item, these effects cannot be magical in any way. Angelo cannot replicate magic.

Substance
The only way for Angelo to replicate something which isn't solid is if it's contained within something solid.

Biological Material
Angelo cannot replicate anything which isn't inanimate. Biological material is beyond his ability.

Time
Each replica is permanent until Angelo allows it to disappear or until another replaces it. Due to this, it is impossible to trace Angelo's bullets.

Passive Ability:
Agelessness
Angelo's cells do not split, but rather they replicate. A cell deteriorates every time it splits which in turn causes ageing. At twenty years old, Angelo's powers matured and as such, his cells stopped splitting and started replicating which in turn halted his ageing entirely.

Attributes:

Strength Level:
Normal Human

Speed/Reaction Timing Level:
30Mph

Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort:
Normal Human

Agility:
10x Human Level

Intelligence:
Average

Fighting Skill:

Marksmanship:
Master
- Prefers pistols, submachine guns and long ranged rifles.

Brawn:
Novice
- Prefers to avoid melee combat at all costs.

Resources:
High

Weaknesses:
Physical Defense
Being a mutant doesn't change the fact that Angelo is humanoid. Anything which would kill a normal human would kill Angelo.

Martial Prowess
Relying on his ranged combat has neglected muscle training and as such leaves Angelo unsuited for melee endeavors.

Power Limitations
While being a mutant, Angelo's powers are anything but explosive or even harmful on their own. Rather, Angelo's powers require some kind of weaponry to be efficient in combat.

Flavor
Fashion
Angelo, being quite the artist, absolutely loves fashionable and daring clothes. While he dresses quite plainly for someone who adores flamboyancy, he appreciates fashion where he sees it and finds it to be a great shame to damage such beautiful clothes if an opponent happens to wear them.

Art
Admiring art as much as he does, Angelo gets easily distracted by things he consider beautiful and attractive.

Cute and fluffy things.
Angelo absolutely loves animals and other adorable things like plushies and cute themes on various items. It leads to an unhealthy spending habit, something to pile on his other unhealthy spending habits.

Supporting Characters:
Leyla Fasser
A longtime friend and associate of Angelo's. She is a scientist and weapon's expert, designing and constructing all of Angelo's gear. Together with Angelo, the two work in union with law enforcement.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:


Theme Songs:
"Been spotted. Initiating combat. Also, I'll be late for dinner."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Okay, I'm doing it...I'm posting another character. I will put Milo on hold for a bit now, I need a break from him.

"I assure you, sweetheart. My bullets run much faster than you."

Name:
Angelo D'Montes

Ethnicity:
Lebanese (Adopted by a French family after birth.)

Age:
265 (Appears 20)

Languages:
Fluent in French, Arabic and English.

Alias:
Hunter

Speech Color:
00aeef

Character Alignment:
Hero

Identity:
Open

Character Personality:
Some would describe Angelo as arrogant, others would claim he is confidant and a few would simply aknowledge that he lacks natural mortality. Being a mutant, these individuals would be correct, however while Angelo lacks many of the moral values considered a norm in human society, he finds humans quite interesting and watches them much like one would watch a flower bloom. The mutant is an incredibly carefree individual driven by passion and experience. Undoubtedly experienced in many a thing throughout his life, Angelo has claimed that human society brings with it entertainment in abundance which keeps him interested in political struggles and social structures.

Of course, a supernaturally passionate being isn't all that Angelo is. Indeed, he is quite social, almost to a fault. Getting to know new individuals is something he highly values and gaining closer friends is nothing that would be considered entirely impossible for him. While on the subject, Angelo doesn't appear to have much of a personal space. He's cuddly, enjoys hugs and appears to be rather close in his approach.

Playful is another keyword used to describe Angelo. He doesn't seem to be serious all that often and sees mostly everything as a game. While in tune with his ranged capabilities on a master's level, it has been noted that Angelo sometimes prefers to use his witty tongue as a means of attack rather than a bullet. Chasing petty murderers isn't far too uncommon but he finds it far more entertaining to participate in verbal battles, a clash of wills. The main reason for this is his unending curiosity in what drives humanity to commit the actions they strive for. Curious, yes much like a cat, Angelo's curiosity appears to know no bounds.

Angelo is incredibly blunt and dances around the subject only if it entertains him. Otherwise the mutant does not waste his time with what is morally acceptable to say and what isn't. One could say that he is liberal on an extreme level and they'd be right.

Character Appearance:
Slender, exotic, beautiful, these are three words used to describe the mutant known by the name of Angelo. Like from a scene in an Arabic tale describing a beautiful prince, Angelo bears himself with pride and possesses a smile upon a pair of red lips. Large brown eyes would peer at whomever gazed back at the middle easterner, a charming addition indeed. Standing at 5'7" feet, Angelo would be considered the norm for a young middle eastern male and possesses a lean, slender frame. The lack of muscle upon his body would not be considered a lack of attraction, however. Rather than muscles, the young man walks with a graceful body preferring grace rather than brawn.

Perhaps considered effeminate as masculine features are rather toned down, Angelo enjoys wearing accessories and doesn't shy away from showing off the natural beauty bestowed upon him. Adopting the casual wear of Converse shoes, Angelo is quite drawn to strong colors and often wears pink or purple colored shoes. Of course, more mellow colors like dark blue and black are not considered unfamiliar to him.

Considering it a shame to hide that flawless skin beneath his clothes, Angelo feels most at home in black tank tops which lick his frame tightly and highlight the thin, slender torso below. From cargo pants to jeans, Angelo wears what he feels fits the situation but is rarely ever seen without a vast array of leather bracelets across his forearms. The fingerless leather gloves more often than not donning his hands range in color from black to a bright pink with additions such as small diamonds upon their surface being a common sight.

With thick black hair atop his head, Angelo is not beyond dyeing the strands to add some color to an otherwise completely dark haircut. Streaks of pink can be clearly seen starting from the roots of his hair and travels down to the tip of his bangs on the left side of his head.

An expression of confidence remains upon his visage as if a casual look, sometimes mistaken with arrogance but he'd assure you otherwise. Fitting his frame, Angelo has a rather exotic voice painted quite mystical given his aura.

Uniform/costume:
Angelo wears a high tech, tactical ops gear designed by his dear friend Leyla. The suit allows for silent, fluid movements and offers basic protection. The mask renders the user immune to gas based weapons and allows for night and thermal vision. Angelo also has direct contact with Leyla through a communications device located within the mask.

Angelo's Gear

Weapons:
Angelo deploys a variety of different long ranged weapons, depending on the mission at hand. He does however always carry a pistol for self defense. During missions, Angelo arms himself with a sidearm and one main weapon. Anything else would weigh him down.

Each of Angelo's guns are heavily modified with an emphasis on tactical operations. As such, his weaponry cannot hold normal bullets and they have been greatly silenced to avoid a gun's typical, loud entry.

Guns:

Submachine Gun

Sniper

Pistol

Bullets:
Angelo detests killing when other options are available. As such, Leyla has developed non-lethal projectiles Angelo loads into his guns. Some situations require a different approach, however.

Non-lethal Bullets:
Electro Bullets
Angelo's most common form of ammunition. Electro Bullets do not physically harm the target, but rather stuns them with high voltage which causes fainting.

Paralysis Bullets
Sometimes high voltage isn't what's needed. Paralysis Bullets temporarily shut off a body part hit by the projectile. These bullets are used to incapacitate a target while keeping them awake for questioning.

Lethal Bullets:
Silver Bullets
There are things out there far beyond human understanding and belief. Luckily, many of them are vulnerable to silver.

Incendiary Bullets
Projectiles that get set on fire once they penetrate the target. Used against vampires and the like, when Silver Bullets just don't pack enough of a punch.

Cryo Bullets
Much like Incendiary Bullets, these projectiles are classed as elemental. However, instead of fire, they emit extreme cold upon reaching their target, freezing the area of impact.

Origin Info/Details:
(I'd prefer to reveal the details of this in character.)

Notable events Angelo has participated in:
World War 1
"Not the most glamorous time of my life."

World War 2
"At it again? Well, at least they've got better weaponry."

Hero Type:
Marksman

Power Level:
City Level

Powers:


Short Explanation:
The ability to replicate any inanimate object within a frame of limitations. The ability also allows for a passive adjustment to the user's frame which is described below. Each replica created by Angelo is in all intents and purposes the real thing, meaning it's an exact copy. After an item comes in contact with his skin, a replica will build itself into existence as if building blocks appearing on top of each other until the item is fully created. The process begins from where the item was touched and is nearly instantaneous. It is also worth noting that the replica will appear in the same hand Angelo used to touch the item in question.

Active Ability (Limitations):
Contact
Angelo's skin needs to come in physical contact with the item he intends to replicate, preferably with his fingers.

Weight
The item cannot weigh more than two pounds.

Quantity
Angelo can replicate up to three items. A fourth would replace the first. As long as the item in question doesn't weigh over two pounds, Angelo can replicate everything contained within a single unit.

Supernatural Items
While supernatural effects can be replicated along with the item, these effects cannot be magical in any way. Angelo cannot replicate magic.

Substance
The only way for Angelo to replicate something which isn't solid is if it's contained within something solid.

Biological Material
Angelo cannot replicate anything which isn't inanimate. Biological material is beyond his ability.

Time
Each replica is permanent until Angelo allows it to disappear or until another replaces it. Due to this, it is impossible to trace Angelo's bullets.

Passive Ability:
Agelessness
Angelo's cells do not split, but rather they replicate. A cell deteriorates every time it splits which in turn causes ageing. At twenty years old, Angelo's powers matured and as such, his cells stopped splitting and started replicating which in turn halted his ageing entirely.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Strength Level:
Normal Human

Speed/Reaction Timing Level:
30Mph

Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort:
Normal Human

Agility:
10x Human Level

Intelligence:
Average

Fighting Skill:

Marksmanship:
Master
- Prefers pistols and long ranged rifles.

Brawn:
Novice
- Prefers to avoid melee combat at all costs.

Resources:
High

Weaknesses:
Physical Defense
Being a mutant doesn't change the fact that Angelo is humanoid. Anything which would kill a normal human would kill Angelo.

Martial Prowess
Relying on his ranged combat has neglected muscle training and as such leaves Angelo unsuited for melee endeavors.

Power Limitations
While being a mutant, Angelo's powers are anything but explosive or even harmful on their own. Rather, Angelo's powers require some kind of weaponry to be efficient in combat.

Flavor
Fashion
Angelo, being quite the artist, absolutely loves fashionable and daring clothes. While he dresses quite plainly for someone who adores flamboyancy, he appreciates fashion where he sees it and finds it to be a great shame to damage such beautiful clothes if an opponent happens to wear them.

Art
Admiring art as much as he does, Angelo gets easily distracted by things he consider beautiful and attractive.

Cute and fluffy things.
Angelo absolutely loves animals and other adorable things like plushies and cute themes on various items. It leads to an unhealthy spending habit, something to pile on his other unhealthy spending habits.

Supporting Characters:
Leyla Fasser
A longtime friend and associate of Angelo's. She is a scientist and weapon's expert, designing and constructing all of Angelo's gear. Together with Angelo, the two work in union with law enforcement.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:


Theme Songs:
"Been spotted. Initiating combat. Also, I'll be late for dinner."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Lost Haven, Slums

"You're actually doing it? Let's have some fun!"

"Where the hell have you been!? What the hell happened to you!?" Seeing Milo step through the door, James jumped from his seat and evened the distance between them with rapid steps. "You're all bloody and your clothes are freaking torn! Is this you taking a walk!?" James spared no time in placing his hands on Milo shoulders, desperately shaking the boy as if he was unconscious on the floor. "And where's your sword!?" The worry in James' eyes was heartwarming to say the least, but after all this time, he should have understood that worrying for Milo was a heartache he didn't need.

"This is just adorable." Masamune began, a soft chuckle following his words. Though none but Milo could hear the blade's voice, it managed a soft smile across the boy's lips as he gazed up on his friend.

"I'm alright, James. Don't worry..." In an attempt to calm the immense worry emanating from the young Asian, Milo placed his hand upon James' before turning his eyes to Kaya. The boy hadn't been gone for longer than three hours but in that time, a lot had managed to happen. He did try to fill James in on the events which had transpired but the young man was quite easily overwhelmed by the story. Mobsters, a failed rescue, a sword master and a magical weapon all in the span of three hours? It was hard to feign understanding, let alone comprehend the words leaving Milo's lips in a calm, collected manner. One had to grant it to the boy, despite everything, he was yet to fall beneath the weight of struggle. "I want to go to New York..."

"Oh, so you've decided, huh?" Masamune added, his words fading beneath James' surprise.

"What? Are you serious? Why do you want to go to New York? That place is huge, not to mention that you and I need to help Kaya!" Raising his hand in the woman's direction, James had not forgotten the promise he made.

"You said that..." Since acquiring Masamune, Milo found it a waste to combat lowly thugs and in truth, humans. With a blade like Masamune in his possession, it would be a crime in itself not to combat creatures who would otherwise never fall to mundane weaponry. It would be a waste, a soldier placed on the wrong battlefield. "You can stay, James..." The boy would continue, a sense of confidence clear in his voice. "Help Kaya. You know where you'll be able to find me later, okay...?" Milo had left the hideout to clear his head and returned three hours later with a new mission all together. While an unexpected addition, it was nothing unique to the boy. Epiphanies were not rare and unless a deluded fool saw the words of the Divines spelled out in the clouds, it was a path the heart truly wanted to follow.

"You're serious about this, aren't you? You're actually leaving for New York? Why, because you have some kind of magical sword, now?" Crossing his arms, James raised his voice slightly in frustration but he had to concede to the fact once Masamune's splendor materialiserad in the boy's hand. With wide eyes, he glared down at the sword glowing dimly within the darkness of their home. It was true. What Milo had said not only rang true but now painted a picture no one could deny. "Shit..."

"This isn't a higher purpose bullshit I'm spewing..." Milo continued, the blade vanishing from his hand. "But I was made to be a weapon, and I want to do what I can..."

"You're more than a weapon." James objected, shaking his head. "You're a person, never forget that!" Pulling Milo into a hug, James couldn't help but clench his teeth in a desperate attempt not to seem emotional. "Look, if you feel like you want to go to New York, go for it. I can't stop you even if I tried and I know what happens when you've made up your mind. I need to help Kaya though, I promised her. After that's done, I'm going to come looking for you, you hear?"

"You better..." The boy finished, a soft grin crossing his lips. Milo had always been known as a cautious individual. He wasn't one to act on impulse very often but sometimes even he understood that one could not sit by and consider everything until the day of judgment. Milo wanted to achieve something more, something better. If he didn't use what the day had offered to reach new heights, everything would have been for naught. Kaya and James could undoubtedly deal with Lost Haven together. They were capable individuals and their place was in the Haven, fighters for justice.

What Milo was after wasn't quite the same thing. Thirty two years had passed since his creation yet he found himself clueless in so many ways. He needed to go to New York not only to pursue another path but also to learn, to experience what the world had to offer. Of course, this involved the underworld, the supernatural world. That's where he was heading.

Taking a quick shower lead to a change of clothes before a final goodbye would fill the air. It was time to leave, and eagerness was thick enough to drown the boy's desires. He had no interest in waiting for the next day, nor was he emotionally capable of staying for any longer. Returning to bed would leave him lost in his own thoughts for several hours, hours of which would more than probably change his mind due to a longing to be with James. He would need to push those personal desires aside for he was a soldier on a mission.

Though time had left him outside their hideout, Milo found his thoughts returning to Kaya and James frequently on his way to the train station. His goodbye had been offered and it was time to move on. Masamune's endless topics of conversation did help quite a lot in keeping Milo focused on his goal, but he would not forget his friend. One day they would be reunited, but not now.

The train station was quite a distance from the ghetto, a trip Milo would have to make by bus if he ever hoped to get to his location before the next day. As it was, the setting sun was soon visible through the window of public transportation. New York was far away, but as James had stated, Milo had made up his mind.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Lost Haven, Slums

"Has anyone told you that you're tiny?"

Finding himself a distance from the scene of disaster, Milo could breath in relief now that he no longer resided within the eye of storms. Though still a distance from his home, the boy was drawn to a reclusive spot he could call haven for the time being. There were many bridges in Lost Haven, each one having acted as home for the homeless more than once. As it was, Milo found himself in solitude beneath the molding stone as he dropped down to the hard asphalt. In an attempt of comfort, the young swordsman leaned against the thick stones together building the decrepit bridge which had undoubtedly seen better days in an age old past. Dirty, torn and bloodied clothes told a tale quite grim, but as had been established, Milo too had seen days considered better than the disastrous outcomes which had come to greet his current situation. Trying to evaluate and go over the day's progress, Milo's thoughts would continuously find a single stop, Masamune. It was still a task in and of itself to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation Milo was facing. Indeed, it wasn't a fact of worry or discomfort, but rather an addition Milo never expected to have.

Pulling his knees closer to the boy's chest, Milo closed his eyes in response to the action. He had been gone for a while, and James was probably worried sick. Then again, it was a well known fact that the assassin could take care of himself. Though, as it stood friends tended to worry nonetheless. Speaking of friends, Masamune spared no questions in getting to know his new master. For a sword, the blade was quite talkative, indeed. Of course, one could also mention the weapon's rather flamboyant attitude and sassy personality. Having existed for so long, Masamune undoubtedly possessed more than a few changes in personality. "How long are we going to sit here, Milo?" Like an eager child, Masamune appeared less than willing to remain in the same place for long.

"I just need to collect myself..." With a moment to think finally showing itself, Milo would find himself blessed with serenity, albeit briefly. Masamune, while a welcomed addition, was quite a lot to get used to.

"Come now, Milo. You can't always succeed. That's a fact of life!" Having told Masamune about Milo's grand failure, the boy had unlocked a series of conversations he would rather avoid but knew he needed to get off his chest.

"Yeah..." The blade was correct, but in the swordsman's line of work, a failure meant someone's death. Failing to protect an innocent individual usually resulted in their demise, thus not always succeeding was a heavy burden indeed.

"I have to say, kid. You're a lot more emotional than you look." It was no secret that Milo's appearance hinted at a lack of care and sometimes apathy, although behind such a surface resided a boy offering both care and passion. Getting met with silence, Masamune continued. "So tell me! What do you intend to do with that eternal life you have running through your veins, Milo? Are you going to chase petty criminals until the world withers?"

"I don't know..." In truth, Milo had not considered the future in terms of occupation. Was he going to chase criminals forever, or was he going to do something better with his time? There were much more powerful and dangerous individuals out there that needed to be stopped. People hiding behind a series of guards, making decisions that shake an entire city, perhaps even a country. "I've been wanting to go after bigger fry..."

"That's the spirit!" Perhaps one could call the eager blade an instigator looking for excitement but as it was, Milo saw the futility in cutting down a few of the countless bad apples swarming Lost Haven. "So how do you intend to go about it? Are you going to pack up and move to the east side, gate crashing the governor's house?" With a loud chuckle, Masamune laughed at his own example but continued on a more serious note. "Or you could grab that friend of yours, what was his name, James? Yes, James. You could take him and go on a little adventure together! I hear New York is filled to the brink with supernatural bullshit."

"New York...?" Ascending to his feet, the boy ran his hands across the dirty clothes covering his body, dusting the fabric before he started on the path home. "Maybe..."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

"A memorable dance, indeed!" - Raverio

Lost Haven, Slums

"I'm sure we'll get along, kid!"

Nearly inhuman movements would instantly categorize Raverio as something more, something incredibly deadly. His swift footwork acted much like a dance, the mesmerizing fluidity of a true sword master. Despite wearing an expensive suit which would otherwise restrict a man's movements, Raverio surpassed such confines with windlike grace. Darting from one point to the other, the swordsman had accomplished a feat quite impressive indeed, he was able to keep up with Milo's bionic speed and skill. Though an amazing display, this was not what would go on to widen the boy's eyes, but rather a blade unlike any other. Raverio was not alone in this fight, no what he wielded was not steel. Noticing his own sword, sturdy and reliable, chip away with each clash sent the boy's heart into a hole in his stomach. What was it that he was going up against? The soft blue hue emanating from Raverio's weapon painted it a relic of supernatural origin no doubt, the edge sharp enough to sever the very bounds of steel. This dance of blades would further reveal how the man's sword remained in flawless condition throughout the battle, not a single sign of tear forcing its way onto the reflective surface.

Simple yet elegant to perfection, Raverio's sword was undoubtedly the result of exquisite craftsmanship unlike what a smith could hope to achieve. The blue glow coating the surface of this deadly weapon would instill fear in whomever found themselves on the sharp end as Milo would soon learn, a bleeding wound tearing its way through his side. Though his mutation healed the cut with near instant results, never had he felt so helpless beneath the weight of a sword. As if cutting through air, his skin and bone gave way for the intrusion without a fraction of resistance.

Bringing both hands to the hilt of his own, mundane weapon, Milo charged forth and clashed steel with his enemy. Though agile to the point of outmaneuvering countless combatants, Milo would constantly find himself deflected by a skillful parry or steadfast block. "Amazing swordsmanship, young man! Truly, the stories ring true!" Holding his scabbard with his left hand and the blade with his right, Raverio would continue to stun his smaller opponent once the sheath vanished from sight. In a blue swirl of energy, the scabbard disappeared and allowed for Raverio to mimic Milo's decision, bringing both hands to the hilt for more powerful strikes.

"That's insane..." Though insecurity shone like a beacon behind Milo's clenched teeth, he could not afford to lower his guard for but a second. Raverio would not allow such an error to pass him by unpunished, thus he dashed forth and initiated the continuation of their deadly duel. Feeling the force of the Italian's strikes against his sword, Milo was quite easily pushed back and put at the defensive. Finding an opening in Raverio's onslaught of strikes appeared to be an impossibility. Attempts were nevertheless made. Edge lived up to his name without fault as was proven time and time again through every fluid strike executed by his immense skill in swordsmanship. Though Raverio appeared to have the upper hand, Milo did not make it easy for the man. In fact, there were times where the Italian would find himself overwhelmed by the boy's agility and swordsmanship.

Avoiding an incoming strike, Edge fainted his opponent and gracefully darted to the left. Either through pure skill or a dash of luck, an opening had been spotted and Milo rushed towards it with a swing to Raverio's hip. At this point however, one could perhaps expect the Italian's response. Reacting to the counter strike, Raverio twisted his body and blocked the attack before a kick sent Milo back. "Well done, but not well enough!"

"Who taught you to fight like this...?" Breathing heavily from the ordeal, Milo analysed his opponent while slowly moving one foot after the other. He would need to wait for Raverio to strike before retaliating as an offensive assault had been proven useless against this opponent.

"Masters from all across the world have blessed me with their knowledge. Were things different, I would have gladly taken you under my wing, esteemed Mr. Edge!"

"Don't worry..." Milo returned. "You've taught me a lot..." Masters always said that no one could teach you more than an opponent in battle, and they tended to be correct. Though Raverio appeared to be the more skilled combatant at the start of this fight, Milo had made sure to analyse every strike, every movement, every single breath the Italian hade made. His attacks revolved around speed, accuracy and fluidity much like Milo's, but where Raverio possessed more strength, Milo was superior in terms of finesse. Indeed, an assault could be easily deflected and overpowered by Raverio's superior level of physical strength, however their continued clash had revealed that he was still prisoner to his frame's agile limitations. One would have to trade in one strength for another, as it was.

Initiating the final act, Milo waited for his opponent to strike. Instead of blocking Raverio's attacks, the boy danced between them like a graceful wind and retaliated with a series of lightning fast cuts which forced Raverio to catch them against the edge of his sword. This was however where their differences shone brightly as the Italian was unable to block every strike. Jumping back from his smaller opponent, Raverio knew that since Milo had found a strategy to tilt this battle in his favor, he would need to end it fast.

With the scabbard reappearing in the man's left hand, he returned the sword to its confines before he lowered the weapon to his waist. With a lightning fast draw, Raverio released his blade from the scabbard in a horizontal slash as he lunged forward. The force of the strike was powerful enough to sever Milo's sword in half as the boy was forced to raise the weapon in defense against the incredibly fast attack. Feeling edge of Raverio's sword traveling across his chest like nothing stole Milo's breath and nearly ended the fight. Of course, was the Italian fighting anyone else without the capabilities of regeneration, he would have won with that strike. However, given Milo's advantage, the boy was able to lunge forth and stabbed his broken blade through Raverio's stomach. "Well...done..." Meeting the ground with his knees, the bloodied smile on Raverio's lips revealed the joy he had felt throughout this dance. Meeting someone who was able to combat him was indeed a liberation he had longed for, a splendid farewell to the Italian now ending his journey.

Joining the lifeless body besides him, Milo dropped down to the dusty floor with heavy breaths forcing their way through his lungs. His blade was broken and what remained of the weapon was a sad remnant of what used to be. The last reminder of his past had been cleaved in half. Though distraught over the outcome of his beloved weapon's demise, the boy's eyes would soon find home upon the supernatural weapon which had achieved the feat. Carefully reaching his hand out to the black handle of the late Raverio's sword, Milo felt a presence unlike any other whispering incomprehensible words into his mind. One could argue that any sensible person would have retracted their hand as the whispers appeared to subside when such an action reached the light of day, however Milo was drawn to the weapon like a hunger he had yet to truly understand. Though a mere inch from the leather bound handle, the boy would find his hand pulled down by an invisible force, his fingers involuntarily wrapping around the blade's hilt.

Gasping for air, the pain shooting through his appendage traveled to his chest and forked itself to the rest of his body as if the flames of inferno were singing him from within. Nearly screaming out in horror, Milo clenched his teeth as his eyes met their reflection on the perfect edge staring back at him. What was this blade? What kind of supernatural force was it that had invaded his very essence? "Well, well..." The whispers continued, though now audible and understandable. "A brat managed to kill Raverio? How amusing." A male voice, dark and cold yet slightly high pitched and incredibly mocking. "Do you think you can wield me?"

"Who the hell are you...?" Milo tried through painful gasps, his left hand grabbing hold of his right wrist as if to subside the pain.

"You do not know!? I am Masamune, the Spirit Blade. Masamune, the one who can slay anything!" Speaking to a sword was something Milo never thought possible, however as the blade responded, he found himself growing angrier at the pain. "Does it hurt, boy? Let go, child. You will never wield me."

"Shut up...! Whatever you are, I will not let a fucking sword overpower me...!" Placing his free hand on the hilt, the pain escalated as it shot through the boy's frame. Forcing an anguished scream from his lungs, Milo only tightened his grip around the weapon. Every second felt like an eternity but with a goal clearly in sight, Milo refused to let go of the sword so eagerly mocking him.

"The one who beat Raverio, you show spirit which by far surpasses your appearance! Very well, kid! I'll entertain the notion of being yours to command! Make this an interesting journey for us both!" The pain started to subside mere moments before the blade dissipated along with its scabbard. "Linking myself with your soul is a very painful procedure, one that you survived. Congrats little kid, looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together."

Even more exhausted than before, Milo stood but immediately stumbled towards the wall where he leaned not to fall back down. He had yet to believe that a possessed sword had linked itself to him, not to mention the belief in spirit swords to begin with. "You're in my head...?" Milo breathed, relieved that the pain had vanished. The pain was however replaced by a feeling of discomfort, knowing that he shared a consciousness with a weapon.

"In a sense!" Masamune chuckled. "But worry not, you'll get used to it! Summon me whenever you need a weapon at your side, otherwise I will act as your trusted friend and adviser!" The sword's personality seemed to have shifted completely now that the link between him and Milo was complete. The dark, cold presence which Milo had felt was gone and instead replaced with a sense of security, as if something was now watching over him.

"Friends with a sword...? This day's been really fucking messed up..."

------------------------------------------

(Character sheet update: Masamune.)

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Lost Haven, Slums

"Where did he come from...?"

Shaking the dizziness from sight, Milo attempted to regain his composure as well as his equilibrium once the boy freed himself from the broken and wrecked confines of the vehicle. Wallowing in the failure of his mission, Milo prayed for his emotions to subside long enough for the impending threat to diminish. The young swordsman would come to recall the numerous times where odds were stacked against him, but he ultimately prevailed. Despite the outcome of this mission, Milo had not yet faltered and if luck held him in high regard still, he had yet to avert his gaze. It was critical to evaluate and establish his surroundings before making another move, given the boy's disadvantage. Firstly, a deep breath. Centering himself, Milo stilled the rapid beating of his heart to a slowed, harmonic pace as his training had stated on a myriad of occasions. Second, the boy allowed his eyes to sweep the area and assessed that the car had crashed through the brittle stone wall of a long since abandoned apartment complex. Such was the life in the ghetto where life and forsaken walls stood back to back. Across the street the humming of humanity still buzzed while a mere few feet away life had been snuffed from the roots. This however was also a gift from the lady of luck. A populated building would draw the impending battle quite troublesome indeed.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Milo hurried from the point of impact and made his way through the corridor. Cars were closing in on his destination and it didn't take long for the Italian mobsters leave their vehicles upon arrival and inspected the wreckage. "Giovanni is dead, but the other kid escaped. Find him, we can't leave any witnesses." As expected, Giovanni was no longer the only target. Judging from the lack of disturbance, one could draw the conclusion that between gangs, the Triad and the mafia, people had learned to stay out of the way. Police would not interfere and civilians had long since hidden from the scene.

Lowering himself to a crouch, Milo had only his hearing to rely on as the mobsters started to split up, their guns held at an aimed position to fire at the very first sight of their enemy. Falling back to the assassination skills which were close to mastered, Milo dexterously made his way into a dust ridden room which had once taken the role of kitchen. Throwing his blade over his shoulder, the boy released the sword from its scabbard and waited for his enemy to set one foot past the threshold of the doorway. Revealing himself, Milo swung his blade in a fluid motion to first sever the mobster's arm from place, effectively removing his weapon, before a quick slice to the throat caused the man to drown in his own blood. There was no time to scream, the cut deep enough to sever words from his lips.

One had greeted death with his sanguine blood coloring the floor. If he was correct, Milo could count seven mobsters having followed them. Surely two boys did not require more pursuers? With soundless steps, Milo hurried down the hall and moved through the ruined apartment before he could make his way into the delipidated corridor outside. Though worn to the point of mold and dust particles, the sun still shown through the cracks and ruined windows spread across the corridor. With a shadow visible in the distance, a warning cast by the sun's warm embrace, Milo could establish his enemy's location just around the corner. Accelerating his silent walk to a full sprint, Milo evened the distance within seconds and made short work of the mobster lurking beyond the wall.

The dance would continue, Milo relying on silence and stealth to surpass his enemies' superior numbers. Six people would meet their end within the ruined complex, but one remained. Though he searched for the remnant, Milo had no luck in finding such a person. He knew however that he had seen seven people chasing them. Was he incorrect with the analysis of his enemy? No, making his way towards the entry hall revealed that Milo's assessment had indeed been true. One mobster remained but this man stuck out more so than the others. He did not possess a gun but rather a blade, something drawing him quite a curiosity. One did not expect to see a mobster in the possession of such a weapon but this was after all Lost Haven, a place where nothing was what it appeared to be. "Are you done?" The man spoke, an air of unnatural calm surrounding him. There was a sense of intimidation emanating from this man as he puffed the cigar between his lips, a sheathed blade resting against the floor with the flat of his hand finding home atop the pommel.

"Who are you...?" Taking a careful step down the stairs, Milo made sure not to avert his gaze, convinced that a split second of error could be the end.

"My name is Raverio Gatchi." With a bow, this man would continue to thicken the mysterious mist clouding him. One could easily pinpoint this man as one who did not fit into the rest. "I am the Sword of the Family, as it was. I know who you are, I knew the moment I saw you at the mansion. Of course, I knew the others did not stand a chance against you but such is the way of life, no? The strong root out the weak." A soft chuckle would leave his lips as he flicked the cigarr to the ground before stepping on it. "Edge." He continued. "Your appearance does not fool me."

"You talk a lot..."

"Yes, they tend to say so." Raverio responded with a hearty laugh, his thick Italien accent shining through. Given any other situation, this man would appear rather pleasant. However, as it stood, Milo knew that a battle would soon come to pass. "I confess my folly, Mr. Edge. A battle with you has been eagerly awaited, enough so for me to join this wild chase and allow you to end my comrades, that we may battle without interruption." Slowly lowering his hand to the blade still resting soundly within its sheath, an eager smile crossed the man's lips before he continued to speak. "I treasure honor, my dear Mr. Edge. I treasure it greatly, thus our battle shall rage on without interference." Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, he narrowed his sights at the boy, the battle now ready to commence. "Draw!"

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Edit:

On second thought, I'll wait until later when I feel like establishing a new character.