I want to join this, badly. I have a character in mind that I’ll run by you. Do you allow magic in this world? In that case I really have a character to run by you. If not, I’ll think of something else.
Zeke, a rather enigmatic individual to say the least, someone whose reputation was found in the culinary arts, among other peculiar venues. One would be a fool to dismiss the man’s cooking, truly, but knives which had been presented afforded another side to the chef. ”So demanding,” Artemis grinned, his slender fingers tracing across a knife handle which he had been so graciously afforded. Only a moment’s passing was required for emerald energy to lick across Artemis’ digits, where a replica of the item manifested itself into the material world.
”And I will be anticipating your present, Zeke,” the young marksman spoke, a newly replicated trinket dancing between his digits in a graceful display. ”For one does not simply tease another, with Sauerkraut,” Artemis winked, handing the weapon he had brought into being to his ally.
With a stretch, the young assassin rose to his feet, a hand reaching below his jacket to produce a pistol, it’s silvery surface reflecting the surrounding with a polished tint. Retracting then mantel, he did well in reminding himself of the enchanted ammunition within, before once more holstering the firearm. ”I will procure my rifle and make myself comfortable on a rooftop,” Artemis proclaimed, before starting towards the exit. ”Ta-ta,” the boy waved, ”let’s make the best of this Null Time, yes?”
Opening the door, Artemis began on a path up the stairs, with an ultimate destination in mind. Home. It was where he kept his weapons, and one could certainly not trust other faction members with them. Making himself scarce, the boy pushed open the cafe door, making his way into the streets. Zero Time at the very least offered target practice. A silver lining, one might say.
Lowering his headphones, a petite creature made his way into a coffee shop he had known for years, and many to come. A favorite spot, one might say, with emerald eyes scanning what today’s events had on offer. Couples had made themselves comfortable by large windows allowing for a breathtaking view of Mahoukyo city, something an average citizen would likely take for granted. One would be forgiven for mistaking those glass barriers screens displaying the infinity of endless life, from roaring cars to silent steps. Each and every individual moving with purpose across a vast city-scape torn between three equally massive families branded factions of ideals, and rules. Yet, despite this, a weary soul could always appreciate a moment’s serenity embraced by relaxing music, and soothing aromas.
He did not drink coffee, the young marksman, and yet, there was an appreciation which lingered upon his features. Little could compare to the scent of grounded beans, transformed into a powder which could very well unlock the joy of an entire day. “The usual?” A voice trickled past quiet murmurs coating the inside of Café Yuki, directly aimed at the small creature turning to meet the owner of those words.
It was not an odd, or unwarranted thought in attempting to decipher the green-eyed individual. He wielded an aura of innocence, each movement bringing with it a teenaged curiosity, if there was such a thing. His expression exposed a relaxed disposition, if somewhat mischievous in response to a question thrown his way. With slender fingers tracing a path down the strap across his scrawny chest, the elusive Rikimaru faction member let the appendage fall to his side, a hoodie moving to cover a majority of each digit. Though his large orbs, almost inhumanly so, scanned a menu presented for all to see, a decision had been made long before his converse-clad foot ever moved past the threshold at Café Yuki.
Gently running his dainty fingers through strands of silken, black hair, Artemis shifted towards the counter where his svelte shape made itself comfortable. ”What if I said no?” An androganous and accented tone traced a path through Artemis’ pale lips, the boy’s gaze landing on a barista he would whole-heartedly consider a master of the art.
“I wouldn’t believe you,” a smirk bridged across the young woman’s face, a row of pearly whites revealing themselves, in response. She was an attractive prospect, something which none could deny, but Artemis still recalled the many midnight conversations held beneath a starlit sky. She had claimed that her love was confiscated by the café, an establishment named after her by a father now passed.
”Bad way to treat your customers, mein freund.” Artemis offered, before finding a hand playfully ruffling his already unkempt hair. ”That’s assault,” the boy joked, affording his acquaintance a grin. However, little more than a shake of his head was required to return those strands to where they had been before such an unforgivable intrusion.
“You have an unpaid tab, kiddo’,” Yuki retorded, shaking her finger in disapproval. Though, the wink she spared dispelled any notion of seriousness following her statement. “Until you pay it, you’ve lost your customer respect privileges.”
”It’s been a slow week,” the young marksman returned, lowering himself to a barstool which easily carried his weightless frame.
“Oh yeah, at that ‘job’ you’ve got that you can’t tell me about,” the barista smirked, crossing her arms.
”I told you,” Artemis spoke, his feet gently swaying by the bottom of his chair, ”I’m a cleaner.” It wasn’t the most creative blanket to drape over the word ‘assassin’, but his general appearance was usually enough to invalidate suspicion. It was, after all, a double edged sword. However, if there were advantages to be taken, Artemis would not let them linger.
“Unless you’re a highschool dropout, being a cleaner at your age sounds pretty unlikely, Arty,” Yuki rubbed her chin, scrutinizing the boy in front of her. What she truly knew about her mysterious customer could be summarized by his name, and interests. Yes, Artemis had confessed his love for singing, which was a one and only. However, despite countless pleas, he had yet bless her with a melody.
”Who says I’m not?” The boy grinned, watching how his hot chocolate was being prepared by Yuki who displayed enough benevolence as to disregard his tab, which was still growing. Artemis was likely the only individual in Mahoukyo proudly branded by a tab raked with hot chocolate.
“Your vocabulary,” came a perceptive response from Yuki, as she slid the boy’s drink towards him. It was an unexpected approached, but one which caused Artemis to raise an eyebrow, followed by a soft chuckle. “Oh, and..,” she snapped her fingers, “the fact that you’re a part of Rikimaru.”
”If I wasn’t,” the assassin sipped his drink, ”you’d never get paid.”
“And we wouldn’t play the guessing game, every time you’re here,” Yuki mused. “A Rikimaru ‘cleaner’. You know what that sounds like, right?”
”Bad decisions?” Artemis finished, earning a string of laughter from the barista. What was going through her mind was true, of course, but the notion was ridiculous enough to brush over. Mahoukyo city in a nutshell, some would say. Nothing was as it appeared to be, and Yuki could likely connect more dots than she cared to. The boy’s elusive age, his vague remarks, and hidden past. Though, one could not blame her for appreciating the mystery.
“So, tell me,” Yuki derailed the subject to something else, entirely. “What’s it like in Europe? You never told me about your..,” she playfully wiggled her fingers, “exotic country.”
”Less bowing,” the boy smirked, his slender, dainty fingers gently tapping on the surface of his hot drink. ”But more sausages. I do miss sausages,” came a small sigh, though it was quite difficult to deduce its authenticity.
“What an invigorating explanation,” Yuki chuckled, leaning forward to flick her regular customer on the forehead. Artemis rubbed the spot, but what had been a stinging sensation quickly faded into obscurity. He would be lying if he claimed that these moments weren’t precious, for him. Despite often visiting Café Yuki, they were quite rare, and in his line of work, comfort through interaction was all the more unique.
”Alright, Yuki. I have a cleaner meeting to attend,” Artemis winked, taking a last sip of his drink. ”We have to discuss the new mops, see.”
Another flick bounced against the boy’s forehead. “Oh yeah, tell me about those mops so I can get one and wipe your mouth with it,” Yuki chuckled, before ruffling her customer’s hair a second time.
Their ‘farewells’ did not linger, and with a small wave, Artemis started on a path out of one cafe and eventually into another. As much as Artemis enjoyed the ‘fun house’ beneath his faction’s cafe, he would rather bring his business elsewhere. As one might have expected, the Rikimaru were quite rowdy. Even so, Artemis knew where his allegiances lay, and after an admittedly refreshing walk, he proceeded to find himself where his rifle called home. ”Guten tag,” the assassin spoke, soon after he pushed open a path to the underground section of Rikimaru’s esteemed café. ”Are we prepared to discuss Null Time?” Artemis finished, dropping down on a bean sack with a gentle stretch.
Relaxation was a desperate pursuit, one which would allow for a moment’s rest, and a spell of respite. A week embraced by chaos and destruction, alongside confusion and countless questions. Rashawn was alive, and a Variant to boot, Midtown had been attacked, and Mr. Pernass also joined the ranks of local ‘Monsters’. Though, in regards to that most peculiar statement, Conner would be lying if he claimed that doubt hadn’t been sown.
The smiling, quirky young man who maintained a positive outlook appeared to have taken a backseat to melancholy. How fickle it was, a teenager’s state of mind. Where it at one moment allowed for laughter, the next scene expressed tears and a quivering voice. Indeed, emotions were a chaotic tune, and pinpointing them was at times a herculean task.
He could hear the shuffling of feet accompanying a ceaseless trickle of machines beeping in tandem with heartbeats and stability. The song of a hospital, a never changing string of lyrics Connor had memorized, and could very well turn into a painting with closed eyes. An ironic thought, marrying sound and color in an attempt to witness harmony, or discord, depending on the long awaited result.
Slowly, each claw clicked against the long since chipped table Connor had adopted in regards to homework and assignments. Not an activity native to Saturdays, but responsibility overpowered comfort. Though, having been promised dinner with his mother for the first time in what felt like a millennium, Connor could not abandon a chance at the scenario. Something he had been looking forward to. An odd prospect, perhaps, for what teenager wanted time spent with their mother? It was a vacancy only truly understood if felt.
Closing his book, Conner exhaled a long breath. Maths, his worst enemy. The Variant would rather have stood beneath the sun than withstand another hour of numbers circling his mind like merciless blades. Rather, Connor substituted his notebook with a sketchbook, which in itself offered a world of difference. He dragged his pen across the page in a repeated fashion, the boy’s free hand resting beneath his chin. A knight slaying a dragon, the forces of good striking down at those of evil intent. The display caused Connor to chuckle quietly. If only the world beyond his sketchbook was as easy to manage. If only it was as black and white as the image coming to life before him.
Easy to manage, a curious string of words, indeed. Reality was anything but simple, and the many shades of grey coating a beautiful, yet cruel world made itself known through every action rippling across time and space. Connor could still recall the term for it. ‘Butterfly Effect’. Everything was a chain reaction. No matter how miniscule an act, no matter how complex or pedestrian, monuments find their infancy in pebbles.
It was impossible to tell what had led to Midtown’s unfortunate disaster, as a slideshow of events would end in the very beginning of time. However, what continued to branch from such misery had found its way far closer to home.
An explosion echoed throughout the New Haven State Hospital, causing Connor to nearly fall from his chair. Cries of agony and terror shot through every corridor like banshee howls, the scene shifting from a mellow, if relaxing moment to chaos, and destruction. The transition was abrupt, a line in the sand which promptly shifted calm past to disastrous present. Despite being on the fourth floor, Connor saw how walls shattered in response to an attack, every calculated strike rippling from within the hospital by enemies who knew exactly where to position themselves.
An attack. When the situation dawned on him, Connor found himself frozen by the threshold separating a long corridor from the nurses’ lounge. Dust particles floated throughout the building, remnants of interior which the now paralyzed boy tried to summarize within his mind. An attack. One reads of this constantly, every news outlet covering one disaster after the next but no matter how close, Connor found it impossible to equal that with what he was feeling at this moment. Dread. Never before had he understood the true meaning of such a word, as when he stood in the middle of a warzone.
If he was to describe the situation, slow motion would likely do it justice. He was unsure if he remembered to breathe, or even blink. Every second passed as if a prolonged eternity, chaos swirling like a tornado across what he had once considered a second home. Once the shock began to slowly settle, it was instead replaced by deafening screams, accompanied by what could only have been inhuman powers. It was an assumption which bore fruit, as Connor’s obsidian gaze slowly turned towards the end of a shattered hallway, where three Variants were paving a path through bloodied shapes coating a previously white floor in red crimson.
Another explosion echoed across the fourth floor of New Haven State Hospital, only moments before Connor felt himself pushed into the nurse lounge. His ears were ringing, body aching from the pain of a shockwave, but the Variant could still note a presence above him. “C-Connor..,” came a forced statement, the boy’s eyes widening as he saw his mother shielding him.
”Mom..,” the little ‘Monster’ tried, a warm sensation seeping through his clothes, and blanketed the pale skin beneath. ”Mom!” Connor exclaimed, his eyes adjusting to the dust-ridden sight, clawed hands attempting to gently move his mother over, where a sanguine picture confirmed every terror and fear which had been building since the moment Connor regained his composure. ”Mom!” The boy repeated, tears now forcing themselves through black orbs where they were fixed, on his mother who had protected her son from devastation. Splinters filled her back, wooden debris forcing itself through her frame haphazardly. A mere look further down would reveal for Connor a black substance trickling down his side.
Words were traded for cries, trembling hands attempting to lift the woman enough to meet her gaze, a faded lifeless expression which caused Connor’s heart to stop beating, if such a thing was possible.
The sound of footsteps across shattered glass and splintered wood turned the boy’s attention forward, a gathering of three Variants standing in front of him. Pain, fear, and anxiety gripped the boy with iron fists. A lifeless mother laid motionless in his arms, breathing growing heavier, and less stable. ””M-Mom.., please.., wake up..,” Connor pleaded, his consciousness slowly fading in response to a wound tearing itself through his side.
“Come with us,” a voice pierced the silence, though it was not possible to deduce who of the three had spoken.
With his claws nearly digging into the body in his arms, Connor’s tear-filled gaze fixed itself on those who had joined him in what remained of the nurse lounge. It was anger, the feeling taking over every fraction of the little ‘Monster’. The anger which remained hidden behind countless layers of confidence, security, and alleged understanding. Anger which soon turned to hatred, which in turn resulted in an inferno. Much like Connor had learned the meaning of dread, he would also soon understand the meaning of absolute, unhindered hatred.
There was no response to the trio, but rather, a roaring scream, the boy’s ghostly voice shaping itself into its true purpose. A spectral shout, a warcry, accompanied by an extended hand which had been coated in a liquid darker than the deepest of night. As if a wind, a torrent of force manifesting itself into a furious wave of crashing energy, Connor called forth a necrotic judgement slamming into the Variants before him.
Skin was ripped from place, flesh melting, and rotting in response. Limbs were torn from their sockets, eyes withering into nothing but liquid. Screams once belonging to victims were soon replaced by attackers’ anguish, their bodies ripped asunder beneath Death’s embrace. With wounds ripping themselves open across the Variants’ frames, mortal coils flayed and rotted, little remained other than faded memories of shattered bones. It was followed by absolute darkness, and at long last, silence, where Connor’s vision faded into obscurity alongside his consciousness.
Location || Warehouse District Timeline || October 25th, 2130; 7:00PM +
Sometimes, his human emotions were annoying. A self reflection brought from a moment of standing in one place for seemingly too long. His path was impeded by a wooden door that normally stood no chance against him. Anxiety kept him on the outside of it, and he wasn’t sure where it came from. He did not feel it when he saw what the media considered a tragedy simply two days prior to this one.
A variant had attained to some sort of insanity or something similar, as it went on a rampage through New Haven. It was along the way to the meeting with his fellow Undergrounders, his seeker eye caught view of shadowy creature. It killed indiscriminately, and killed many. Brought destruction with it too. NOVA Agents and Soldiers made their way on the scene to chase the creature down and contain it.
The task took them longer than The Watcher calculated. It even managed to take some of their lives as well. It looked dangerous, and even tapped into Rhamses compassion for the surface. He would have stepped in to try his hand at containing the creature, but they managed to corner it. Volts of electricity weakened it enough to be drawn away from the area.
His seeker eye saw this, recorded it to memory. Soon after, when he met with the others, he shared the recording as a projection. The reports that followed did not present variants in a favorable light, and was only going to prove to increase tensions between human and variant kind moving forward. It was advised to keep a low profile for some time, even lower than they normally did. This was concerning...Baba was taken by humans, for a purpose unknown to him.
Rha’s brain recollected this information, and used it as motivation. To summon up the courage to knock on Connor’s door. It was strange, that he felt dread pass through his system. His heart’s pace quickened, and the slight breeze decreased in temperature, causing his skin follicles to clump together; goosebumps. It was odd to feel this considering the boy was much smaller than he, however he felt the need to be more direct this time.
For one, he was delaying a little longer than The Watcher anticipated that it’d take for him to walk out with the canine creature. For the second...Rha was overthinking the simple task of knocking on a door. In order to prevent any further delay, he raised his hand to the wooden prism, and…
Knock, knock, knock It wasn’t long after Connor had lowered the phone that he heard a knock on the door. Calling these series of scenarios an eventful evening was an understatement, by far. For a brief moment, a split second one might say, Connor froze. Was it the police? Did they want to take him into custody as a precaution? No, that was ridiculous, a result of the boy spiraling into a downhill series of thoughts. ”Pull yourself together,” the Variant mumbled, his petite frame moving in tune with annoyingly recurring distress.
”I am sorry for all the distractions, Cerberus,” the teen forced a smile down at his beloved companion, ”we’ll head out, soon,” he finished, attaching a leash which maintained itself as a formality. Cerberus overpowered his owner with ease, and a leash managed little in regards to control. However, one ought to keep up appearances.
The click of claws tapped against a metallic door handle as Connor pushed it down, and dispelled the barrier between himself and a crashing wave of emotional chaos.
So different, but yet, so alike. Memories made flesh, longing and sadness personified beneath dark, brown skin. An onlooker would likely find it odd, the Variant once more freezing, but this repeated reaction lingering due to justification. Legs grew weak, a body trembling, and obsidian eyes watering from the sight. Connor’s fingers fell limp, the leash soundlessly meeting with a carpet by his feet. A single step back made him feel a thud against his backside from Cerberus’ wagging tail, curious grey eyes gazing at the lengthy figure towering above the beast’s master. There was a distinct presence Connor knew all too well, a flash from years now long gone, and a wound only somewhat healed, though slightly torn every time he held onto cherished headphones.
With a shaky breath, the Variant attempted to grip his senses as to not completely lose control of an already damaged equilibrium. ”R-Rashie..?” The name was one which had remained unsaid for ages, Connor’s pale cheeks now wet with streaks of glistening tears teasing at his throat, all the while. A trembling hand extended towards an old, vanished friend, as if the image was hard to believe, only for salty pearls to grow more prominent as Connor’s dainty appendage came in contact with a dear memory.
At first, there was an unfamiliar sense of tension in the air that Rha can say that he never felt before. Something strange, as though excited and afraid at once, and this feeling only extended upon the door opening. His human eye gleamed its once natural color, trying to understand what Connor’s reaction was. In that way, they both seemed frozen, the door’s archway a barrier.
The sudden thickness of the air was filled when the name was said. One that panged a piece of his memory. He heard it before, from this voice, and the feeling was something that words could only barely describe. Many images came of this boy’s face, albeit, he was smaller. They were often smiling, and varying piano tones played in his head. An inner warmth that brought a small smile to his face, after many days that he didn’t. There was never a reason before this moment.
“Felice di vederti, Connor.” Were his words, consumed by a form of nostalgia that he could only liken as being…childlike? The phrase felt familiar to his tongue, and yet so foreign to his memory. The words he said were italian...inherently, yet, from seemingly nowhere. Yet, it felt nice to say them, as his emotions could confirm in this moment; it was ‘nice to see him’, again.
Swallowing his tears, the Variant moved a hand towards his eyes before a futile attempt to dry those pale cheeks followed. There was no use in seeking stability, anymore. Without another word, Connor stepped forth, his slender arms wrapping themselves around the taller individual, tightly gripping him in a desperate embrace. ”I thought you were dead..,” came a weak string of words, Connor’s attempt at clinging to his friend ending only once the hug reached a natural, if reluctant conclusion. ”Everyone..,” the Variant continued, shaking his head softly, ”thought you were dead.”
Rha’s disappearance and presumed death had been reported on several times, and once the investigation was abandoned, Connor’s heart sank into a pit in his stomach. He could recall it, still. A best friend, an only friend, lost and gone from this world without anything to come from it. ”What.., what happened to you, Rashie?” Connor continued, his dark gaze rising towards Rashawn’s features. This was not the same person from all those years back, clearly.
The hug was an abnormal gesture to him. Something that his brain could logically define, yes, an affectionate embrace that usually involves one being looping their arms around another. But the emotion in the moment transcended the definition entirely. Those were real tears that Connor was releasing, and to be honest, he could feel the stinging behind his eye as well. He tried to process what Connor was saying as he pulled at least one arm up to his back. His dreads drooped down from where they were under the hood and rested around the smaller boy’s head.
Rha tried to process his words, taking in what was already new information. Connor apparently thought that he was dead. When he extended the phrase to ‘everyone’, it seemed, this past person his bare memory could only somewhat piece together was very important to Connor, as well as the people they interacted with. Furthermore, his absence, being the catalyst for the belief of his passing.
His thoughts carried him out of the moment for a second, coming back only when their hug ended. Rha blinked back, and his seeker eye glowed brightly, as if it had momentarily went to sleep. Connor’s question became one that hit his psyche perhaps a little harder than he thought it would. His arms shook a little and his expression defaulted to dumbfoundedness. He couldn’t even cry, and the look of desperation was a little more obvious than he may have wanted to let on.
“I...I don’t know.” He admitted, voice cracking a little, sounding like an audio recording glitching. He looked over his shoulder to peer down the street. Paranoia set in as he wasn’t sure who was listening, despite there being only sparse foot traffic on the block at the moment.
“I don’t know anything…” He confirmed his earlier statement, turning his head back to Connor. By now he noticed his slight tremble, and stopped himself consciously.
“All I know is you.”
Reaching past his friend, Connor pushed the door to a close. Sadly, Cerberus would need to wait for a fair bit longer before that promised walk. ”So you disappear..,” the Variant spoke, a small sigh making its way past his lips, ”and return a.., cyborg..? And you don’t remember anything,” he continued, more a statement than a question. Letting his arms fall to his sides, Connor stepped back and dropped onto the same armrest he had considered ever so comfortable only a few moments earlier.
Unable to stifle a chuckle, the pale Variant raised his hand, wiping what remained of those tears, even though they were soon replaced. ”Today’s been so fucked up..,” he grumbled, though paused soon after Rha’s final statement. Clenching his teeth, the boy raised his dark eyes to meet the taller figure, ”I’m pretty hard to forget..,” came a small joke, desperately forcing itself through the sadness in an attempt at humor in this emotional hour. ”I guess I could ask you a million questions.., but honestly..,” Connor started, his clawed digits moving together where he sat, ”it doesn’t seem like you can answer them, so.., all I can ask is..,” the teen paused, considering the notion before eventually speaking, ”you’re here now, that’s what’s important, right? What.., do you plan on doing now?”
As the emotional high seemed to be evening out, Rha’s logical mentality slowly began to trickle back in. Honestly, he was a little surprised that Connor believed and recognized him so quickly. Regardless of that though, he took in his question. He felt the urge to look around again, but didn’t give in to his paranoia this time.
“I have to find Baba. Men with suits took him away, and I can’t determine where. My mind tells me it was the same people that took us…” Rha’s eye aimed toward the ground. “Though, I remember what that place is, and how it looks...I can’t pinpoint where. Memory indicators are foggy.” His Seeker eye started blinking, and Rha felt the past couple of days weigh on him.
“Life Support Systems, forty percent…” He said quietly, again with an android’s echo. There was a moment of silence as he thought, face aimed toward the floor. 40 wasn’t great and he definitely needed some time to recharge, but Rha significantly cared less about that in the current moment with Connor.
“My hope in finding you again is if you have any information about what happened to me. Hopefully that could lead me back to free Baba…” Rha explained, aiming his eyes back up.
“Please...I must find him.”
Attempting to compute with everything a long lost friend had been saying, Connor raised his hands, gently rubbing at his forehead. The worst thing this Variant had been expecting when waking that morning was more prejudice. However, what he got by far surpassed the fears brewing within. Despite the short span of time which had passed between each, and every event, Connor was barely able to link them together, anymore. It felt like days, even weeks, had managed to pass across the period of a few moments.
”I..,” Connor tried, lowering his dark gaze to the floor, ”I don’t know anything, Rashie,” the boy spoke, his senses back to what could be considered normal. ”And, wait.., forty what? Are you hurt?” A moment’s lapse in composure caused the young Variant to stand from where he had been sitting, ”maybe we should go to the hospital, Rashie, I mean.., no, we definitely should but I’ve watched enough movies to know that the people who are after you..,” he stopped. Trailing off was not ideal, right now. With a deep breath, Connor shook his head. He needed to stay calm. No good decisions were made in panic. ”I’ll.., I’ll help you find him.., I mean.., of course I will,” the Variant stated. It was obvious, and there was no other path to take in this scenario. ”But.., I don’t even know where to start.”
A sharp pang hit Rha in the chest when Connor came to the revelation of not knowing anything. The stinging behind his eyes got worse, and his skin flashed white only very briefly before he quickly regained his composure. It was as though his world had come to a startling crash around him, as this was his sole lead. Connor was a key piece to his memory, and even him not knowing what happened was disheartening.
It was in these moments of doubt that he missed what Connor had said partially, but picked up when he mentioned a hospital. He quietly blinked but slowly nodded at his friend redirecting his interests away from a physical facility. It wasn’t what he needed, but he could tell the information was overwhelming Connor to an extent. A comforting warmth radiated from within as, even though having no idea what was going on, he promised to help Rha anyway. The bionic being smiled.
“I only require access to a common electrical outlet...There I can recharge my energy...It’s been several days.” Rha explained to answer Connor’s concerns about his health earlier.
“A place we can begin is perhaps discovering what happened the last you saw or heard from me, or Baba perhaps.”
Appearance ⚫ The first thing anyone would notice upon viewing this young marksman would be his petite frame. ⚫ Standing at a meager five feet, with an inch to add, Artemis manages intimidation on par with a puppy. ⚫ Equally so, his scrawny shape with muscles clearly vacant from every limb leaves him weighing a peculiar sixty pounds. ⚫ Artemis displays a color palette of black and green, a theme clearly followed throughout in terms of fashion.
⚫ Jet black hair, mostly unkempt, cover his head, and often finds its way into his large, emerald eyes, unless kept at bay. ⚫ It is common to find Artemis in a beanie, or headband, to counteract this. ⚫ Further down his pale features, the marksman’s eyes display a pair of jade orbs confessing to mischief.
⚫ One would be forgiven for mistaking this creature a teenager no older than fifteen, and Artemis does enjoy using apparent innocence to his advantage. ⚫ Equally so, the marksman expresses androgyny, which alongside an equally genderless voice can make it very difficult to deduce his sex. ⚫ Clearly smaller, and far more petite than your average male, Artemis is aware of his limitations, and attempts to highlight his strengths when possible.
⚫ Artemis often wears a small smile upon pale, slender lips. ⚫ Balancing between mischievous and polite, it can be difficult to deduce which spectrum the marksman aims to convey with his body language.
⚫ In regards to clothing, Artemis is a simple young man. ⚫ Though he tends towards black, and green as his ‘trademarked’ fashion, he feels most at home in casual hoodies, and cargo pants. ⚫ Across his chest, one will pinpoint a strap connected to a shoulder bag. ⚫ Converse shoes are found on his feet, and Artemis claims that boots are too clunky.
Personality ⚫ Laid back, relaxed, and composed, Artemis maintains curiously monotone state of mind. ⚫ Though he is quite the rascal, and clearly enjoys being a ‘little shit’, the marksman retains a calm, collected exterior. ⚫ It has been stated that his almost apathetic approach can be disturbing, but this is usually regarded with a shrug, in turn.
⚫ While Artemis is difficult to read, his ‘poker face’ on full display, a good eye will catch a smirk, or grin, quite often. ⚫ It goes hand in hand with a fun-loving attitude, which dictates Artemis’ many decisions. ⚫ Some may call the marksman impulsive, but that would go against his entire purpose as a rifleman. ⚫ As such, Artemis claims that he does nothing ‘without carefully thinking it through’ first. ⚫ This is a lie.
⚫ Artemis is affectionate towards those he considers close, and awkwardly shy around those he maintains stronger feelings for. ⚫ He may not speak a lot, but rather expresses himself through gestures, instead. ⚫ A fitting word in describing Artemis’ personality is ‘quirky’.
⚫ He is incredibly scared of spiders, and this fear also extends to wasps. ⚫ Artemis is also aware of his many physical restrictions, and is a humble individual. ⚫ The marksman never tries to measure himself against others, but rather, attempts to leave his staple through acting rather than boasting.
Likes ⚫ Guns, Artemis loves guns. ⚫ The marksman enjoys climbing, and adores heights. ⚫ He has a lot of affection for animals. ⚫ As one might expect from a rifleman, Artemis likes ‘toying with his food’, when distance allows. ⚫ Artemis is addicted to energy drinks. ⚫ He is also addicted to candy. ⚫ The one thing Artemis likes more than ‘shooting shit’, is singing. ⚫ Again, being a rifleman, Artemis likes taking his time, and waiting.
Dislikes ⚫ Manual labor, Artemis is a weakling, and he knows it. ⚫ Vegetables are disgusting. ⚫ Insects are gross. ⚫ Artemis doesn’t like standing too close to the big, burly types.
Strengths ⚫ Marksmanship 🔷 Artemis displays masterful skill with firearms. 🔷 This is clearly his main, and greatest strength.
⚫ Mobility 🔷 Though Artemis is small, it does work to his advantage. 🔷 The boy is quick on his feet, agile, and very elusive.
⚫ Composure 🔷 Finally, Artemis is very difficult to fluster. 🔷 He is patient, and can maintain his aim.
Weaknesses ⚫ Muscles 🔻 As one might expect, Artemis lacks in physical strength, quite severely. 🔻 Though he can handle heavy recoils, he has nothing to offer in terms of power.
⚫ Vitality 🔻 Artemis' small frame isn't just for looks. 🔻 It's also fragile, like a little bitch.
⚫ Melee Combat 🔻 Being a ranged specialist, and lacking in strength, Artemis is useless in melee endeavors. 🔻 He doesn't have the size to make a difference, either.
⚫ Flamboyance 🔻 Artemis has no bombastic magical powers.
Relationships ⚫ Artemis had a quiet, secretive relationship with another member of his faction, for a time. ⚫ This relationship did not work out, and the secrecy grew far too exhausting.
⚫ In regards to family, Artemis has very little contact with them.
Backstory ⚫ It might be rather unexpected to see a small, weak, and fragile person in the Rikimaru Family, a faction valuing strength and honor, neither of which Artemis has displayed in any notable fashion. ⚫ However, he has been a member for the past nine years, which warrants a rooted position within the faction. ⚫ Throughout his membership, Artemis has never quite displayed any aspiration to climb the ranks, and appears content with a more laid back daily routine. ⚫ Of course, his ability with the gun was what gave him a position in the Rikimaru Family, to begin with. ⚫ When asked where he came into the possession of his skills, Artemis simply shrugs and claims to have 'been around'. ⚫ In truth, the story is quite simple, and Artemis hails from a military family. ⚫ However, he never had the discipline to follow in his parents' footsteps.
⚫ 'You have all the skills, but none of the drive, and you're about as disciplined as a lazy child,' is an exact quote from Artemis' mother. ⚫ He had a comfortable life, and received a formal education both theoretically, and in practice, but never went as far as to officially join the army. ⚫ Rather, Artemis felt like he belonged somewhere else, and it was made clear that his position as a Rikimaru Marksman was a sure shot. ⚫ This, as one might have expected, did not sit well with his family, considering how both of his parents are military generals.
⚫ 'Why do you waste your potential, like this?', was a repeated question. ⚫ 'Because you don't decide what my potential is,' was a repeated response. ⚫ It is unclear whether Artemis is simply afraid of making himself noteworthy due to his limitations, or if it is, in fact, pure laziness. ⚫ However, if one was to dig deeper, the sentence 'I'm only as strong as my gun, and sometimes, that's scary,' makes itself known.
Potential ⚫🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛
Experience ⚫🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛
Aptitude ⚫🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛
Magic
Imprint ⚫ For an item to be replicated by a Polykinetic, they have to manage a process dubbed 'Imprinting'. ⚫ Upon touching an object, the user can connect with it, and then conjure forth replicas of the item, at will. ⚫ Once the Polykinetic has Imprinted an item, he can manifest a replica of this item wherever he finds himself and no longer needs to have the original item in his possession to manage the feat. ⚫ This is, of course, until he needs to Imprint with the item again, if another Imprint overwrote the first.
Time ⚫ Each replica is permanent until the Polykinetic allows it to disappear or until another replaces it.
Weight 🔻 The item cannot weigh more than two pounds.
Quantity 🔻 The Polykinetic can Imprint with three items at a time. 🔻 Artemis can create one replica of each item, at a time.
Substance 🔻 The user can only replicate solid items. 🔻 No substances to speak of.
Biological Material 🔻 A Polykinetic of this level cannot replicate anything which isn't inanimate. 🔻 Biological material is beyond their ability.
Usage 🔻 Unlike many other schools of magic, a Polykinetic's powers are entirely reliant on external forces. 🔻 Their abilities cannot further any goals by themselves, as would be the case for a fire slinger or ice breather. 🔻 In other words, the Polykinetic requires an ingredient in the form of an object for their ability to be useful.
Integrity 🔻 A Polykinetic's manifestations can only aid the user as far as the inanimate object he has imprinted with is possibly capable of stretching itself. 🔻 An imprint with a weak item will result in a weak execution.
Enchanted Imprinting 🔻 A very powerful Polykinetic may be able to replicate an enchanted item, but Artemis is not there, yet. 🔻 Currently, Artemis can replicate items with a low-level enchantment on them.
Bio-Organic Cellular Duplication 🔻 Those born attuned to Polykinesis are quite unique in the way that their cells do not split, but rather they replicate. 🔻 A cell deteriorates every time it splits which in turn causes aging. This appears entirely vacant in a Polykinetic's biological construction. 🔻 Additionally, due to this, their bodies are frozen in time and cannot shift, evolve or form in any manner beyond the point of evolving this ability. 🔻 It is highly individual when this ability manifests itself. 🔻 There is no Polykinetic to date which has developed this ability before the age of fifteen. 🔻 This ability is considered a weakness because a Polykinetic is limited to the body they have when developing it. 🔻 Equally so, after this ability manifests, the Polykinetic cannot build muscle, and gain weight anymore.
Magical Seal 🔻 Polykinetics cannot use any other type of magic. 🔻 They are locked to this ability, and their bodies reject casting spells of another sort.
Role 🔻 Polykinesis in itself is harmless. 🔻 It requires the user to implement it into some kind of martial combat. 🔻 Polykinesis is an entirely utility-based ability.
Collections 🔻 Artemis can replicate a gathering of items that are connected, as a single Imprint. 🔻 However, no matter how small the item is, unless Artemis combines it with another object, it will confiscate an Imprint spot. 🔻 Example - Artemis can Imprint with a magazine of bullets, or a single bullet.
Equipment
⚫ Weapon Enchantments 🔷 Minor Enchantmen - Silence.
⚫ Ammuniation Enchantments 🔷 Minor Enchantment - Penetration.
⚫ Weapon Enchantments 🔷 Minor Enchantment - Silence.
⚫ Ammuniation Enchantments 🔷 Minor Enchantment - Low Barrier Penetration.
Extra ⚫ Artemis is a closeted homogay. ⚫ Though he refuses to sing in front of people, Artemis is, in fact, a wonderful singer, with a great voice. ⚫ He is often seen listening to music, with headphones. ⚫ Artemis does not know how old he is. ⚫ Artemis' parents moved to Japan from Germany, shortly after his fifteenth birthday, due to their military careers. ⚫ He has a thick German accent. ⚫ He speaks English, Japanese, and German, however with an accent filling each.
Faction Connections Elliot Silber ❤️ "There are scalpels, there are chainsaws, and there is Elliot. Ah, the fights you get into, genosse, like moths to a.., fire."
Devin D'Artagnan Coal ❤️ "Share with me your plans, kommandant, and my rifle will move in tune with your motions. Life is a chessboard, ja? Checkmate is at your fingertips."
Saori Asakura ❤️ "Fräulein.., you terrify me to no end. It is truly quite beautiful.., from a distance."
External Connections Onassis Daisuke 💙 "Vergib mir Vater, denn ich habe gesündigt.., inscribe on me your judgement, and expell all my demons. Das abenteuer beginnt."
Jana Reid 💙 "Careful not to let the iron grip of Akechi strangle you, fräulein. A pure heart makes for a large target."
Enishi Kizuna 💙 "Chains? Oh.., wie frech. I do hope the Akechi keeps you around for other reasons, madame."
Kurokami Takuto 💙 "Schöner Mann. I can't wait to see the poetry hiding within that persona of indifference."
Aruru Ishtar-Gamelat 💙 "Effort is not always a poisnous fruit, mein liebling."
Maya Dozier 💙 "A heart of passion, and joy. Diese frau seems to have it all figured out. Live for the thrill. Yes, ich bin damit einverstanden."
Rinishi Kirizaki 💙 "A bow? How.., archaic, but a beautiful katze you are. Those fuzzy ears.., melting my heart."
Rena Kirizaki 💙 "Fräulein, we are not short. Everyone else is simply a giant. Teach your beloved brother to be proud of his heritage, ja?"
Akechi Fujino 💙 "What an annoying little mädchen. Reckless, loud, and obnoxious.., I'm surprised you're not in the Rikimaru."
Appearance 🌑 The first thing anyone would notice when viewing this young marksman would be his petite frame. 🌑 Standing at a meager five feet, with an inch added on top, Artemis manages to appear as intimidating as a puppy. 🌑 Equally so, his scrawny shape with muscles clearly vacant from every limb leaves him weighing a peculiar sixty pounds. 🌑 Artemis displays a color palette of black and green, which the theme clearly followed throughout.
🌑 Jet black hair, mostly unkempt, cover his head, and often finds its way into his large, emerald eyes, unless kept at bay. 🌑 It is common to find Artemis in a beanie, or headband, to counteract this. 🌑 Further down his pale features, the marksman’s eyes display a pair of emerald orbs confessing to mischief.
🌑 One would be forgiven for mistaking this creature a teenager no older than fifteen, and Artemis does enjoy using apparent innocence to his advantage. 🌑 Equally so, the marksman appears quite androganous, which alongside an equally genderless voice can make it very difficult to deduce his sex. 🌑 Clearly smaller, and far more petite than most males, Artemis is aware of his limitations, and attempts to highlight his strengths when possible.
🌑 Artemis often wears a small smile upon pale, slender lips. 🌑 Balancing between mischievous and polite, it can be difficult to deduce which spectrum the marksman aims to convey with his body language.
🌑 In regards to clothing, Artemis is a simple young man. 🌑 Though he tends towards black, and green as his ‘trademarked’ fashion, he feels most at home in casual hoodies, and cargo pants. 🌑 Across his chest, one will pinpoint a strap connected to a shoulder bag. 🌑 Converse shoes are found on his feet, and Artemis claims that boots are too clunky.
Personality 🌑 Laid back, relaxed, and composed, Artemis maintains curiously monotone state of mind. 🌑 Though he is quite the rascal, and clearly enjoys being a ‘little shit’, the marksman retains a calm, collected exterior. 🌑 It has been stated that his almost apathetic approach can be disturbing, but this is usually regarded with a shrug, in turn.
🌑 While Artemis is difficult to read, his ‘poker face’ on full display, a good eye will catch a smirk, or grin, quite often. 🌑 It goes hand in hand with a fun-loving attitude, which dictates Artemis’ many decisions. 🌑 Some may call the marksman impulsive, but that would go against his entire purpose as a rifleman. 🌑 As such, Artemis claims that he does nothing ‘without carefully thinking it through’ first. 🌑 This is a lie.
🌑 Artemis is affectionate towards those he considers close, and awkwardly shy around those he maintains stronger feelings for. 🌑 He may not speak a lot, but rather expresses himself through gestures, instead. 🌑 A fitting word in describing Artemis’ personality is ‘quirky’.
🌑 He is incredibly scared of spiders, and this fear also extends to wasps. 🌑 Artemis is also aware of his many physical restrictions, and is a humble individual. 🌑 The marksman never tries to measure himself against others, but rather, attempts to leave his staple through acting rather than boasting.
Likes 🌑 Guns, Artemis loves guns. 🌑 The marksman enjoys climbing, and adores heights. 🌑 He has a lot of affection for animals. 🌑 As one might expect from a rifleman, Artemis likes ‘toying with his food’, when distance allows. 🌑 Artemis is addicted to energy drinks. 🌑 He is also addicted to candy. 🌑 The one thing Artemis likes more than ‘shooting shit’, is singing. 🌑 Again, being a rifleman, Artemis likes taking his time, and waiting.
Dislikes 🌑 Manual labor, Artemis is a weakling, and he knows it. 🌑 Vegetables are disgusting. 🌑 Insects are gross. 🌑 Artemis doesn’t like standing too close to the big, burly types.
Strengths 🌑 Artemis’ greatest strength is his marksmanship, and gunmanship. 🌑 He is very quick on his feet, and agile. 🌑 Another big strength of his, is Artemis’ composure.
Weaknesses 🌑 Artemis’ biggest and most blatant weakness is his physical strength. 🌑 Being quite fragile, he doesn’t have much to put against damage, either. 🌑 Artemis has no cards to play in physical altercations. 🌑 He doesn't have any explosive magical powers, either.
Relationships 🌑 Artemis had a quiet, secretive relationship with another member of his faction, for a time. 🌑 This relationship did not work out, and the secrecy grew far too exhausting.
🌑 In regards to family, Artemis has very little contact with them.
Backstory 🌑 It might be rather unexpected to see a small, weak, and fragile person in the Rikimaru Family, a faction valuing strength and honor, neither of which Artemis has displayed in any notable fashion. 🌑 However, he has been a member for the past nine years, which warrants a rooted position within the faction. 🌑 Throughout his membership, Artemis has never quite displayed any aspiration to climb the ranks, and appears content with a more laid back daily routine. 🌑 Of course, his ability with the gun was what gave him a position in the Rikimaru Family, to begin with. 🌑 When asked where he came into the possession of his skills, Artemis simply shrugs and claims to have 'been around'. 🌑 In truth, the story is quite simple, and Artemis hails from a military family. 🌑 However, he never had the discipline to follow in his parents' footsteps.
🌑 'You have all the skills, but none of the drive, and you're about as disciplined as a lazy child,' is an exact quote from Artemis' mother. 🌑 He had a comfortable life, and received a formal education both theoretically, and in practice, but never went as far as to officially join the army. 🌑 Rather, Artemis felt like he belonged somewhere else, and it was made clear that his position as a Rikimaru Marksman was a sure shot. 🌑 This, as one might have expected, did not sit well with his family, considering how both of his parents are military generals.
🌑 'Why do you waste your potential, like this?', was a repeated question. 🌑 'Because you don't decide what my potential is,' was a repeated response. 🌑 It is unclear whether Artemis is simply afraid of making himself noteworthy due to his limitations, or if it is, in fact, pure laziness. 🌑 However, if one was to dig deeper, the sentence 'I'm only as strong as my gun, and sometimes, that's scary,' makes itself known.
Potential 🌑🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛
Experience 🌑🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛
Aptitude 🌑🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛
Magic
Imprint 🌑 For an item to be replicated by a Polykinetic, they have to manage a process dubbed 'Imprinting'. 🌑 Upon touching an object, the user can connect with it, and then conjure forth replicas of the item, at will. 🌑 Once the Polykinetic has Imprinted an item, he can manifest a replica of this item wherever he finds himself and no longer needs to have the original item in his possession to manage the feat. 🌑 This is, of course, until he needs to Imprint with the item again, if another Imprint overwrote the first.
Time 🌑 Each replica is permanent until the Polykinetic allows it to disappear or until another replaces it.
Weight 🌗 The item cannot weigh more than two pounds.
Quantity 🌗 The Polykinetic can Imprint with three items at a time. 🌗 Artemis can create one replica of each item, at a time.
Substance 🌗 The user can only replicate solid items. 🌗 No substances to speak of.
Biological Material 🌗 A Polykinetic of this level cannot replicate anything which isn't inanimate. 🌗 Biological material is beyond their ability.
Usage 🌗 Unlike many other schools of magic, a Polykinetic's powers are entirely reliant on external forces. 🌗 Their abilities cannot further any goals by themselves, as would be the case for a fire slinger or ice breather. 🌗 In other words, the Polykinetic requires an ingredient in the form of an object for their ability to be useful.
Integrity 🌗 A Polykinetic's manifestations can only aid the user as far as the inanimate object he has imprinted with is possibly capable of stretching itself. 🌗 An imprint with a weak item will result in a weak execution.
Enchanted Imprinting 🌗 A very powerful Polykinetic may be able to replicate an enchanted item, but Artemis is not there, yet. 🌗 Currently, Artemis can replicate items with a low-level enchantment on them.
Bio-Organic Cellular Duplication 🌗 Those born attuned to Polykinesis are quite unique in the way that their cells do not split, but rather they replicate. 🌗 A cell deteriorates every time it splits which in turn causes aging. This appears entirely vacant in a Polykinetic's biological construction. 🌗 Additionally, due to this, their bodies are frozen in time and cannot shift, evolve or form in any manner beyond the point of evolving this ability. 🌗 It is highly individual when this ability manifests itself. 🌗 There is no Polykinetic to date which has developed this ability before the age of fifteen. 🌗 This ability is considered a weakness because a Polykinetic is limited to the body they have when developing it. 🌗 Equally so, after this ability manifests, the Polykinetic cannot build muscle, and gain weight anymore.
Magical Seal 🌗 Polykinetics cannot use any other type of magic. 🌗 They are locked to this ability, and their bodies reject casting spells of another sort.
Role 🌗 Polykinesis in itself is harmless. 🌗 It requires the user to implement it into some kind of martial combat. 🌗 Polykinesis is an entirely utility-based ability.
Collections 🌗 Artemis can replicate a gathering of items that are connected, as a single Imprint. 🌗 However, no matter how small the item is, unless Artemis combines it with another object, it will confiscate an Imprint spot. 🌗 Example - Artemis can Imprint with a magazine of bullets, or a single bullet.
Casual Equipment 🌑 Semi-Automatic Handgun. 🌙 A simple Colt 1911 sidearm Artemis keeps under his jacket, or hoodie. 🌙 It has a minor enchantment on it, which dampens the sound when fired. 🌙 The weapon has seven rounds in the magazine, which Artemis has Imprinted. 🌙 He does not carry the original clip. 🌙 The bullets Artemis uses for his pistol have a minor piercing enchantment on them.
Extra 🌑 Artemis is a closeted homogay. 🌑 Though he refuses to sing in front of people, Artemis is, in fact, a wonderful singer, with a great voice. 🌑 He is often seen listening to music, with headphones. 🌑 Artemis does not know how old he is.
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Punished GN
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