Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts


Name: Blyskawica "Bly" Biala
Callsign: Tlaloc
Age: 30
Nationality: American
DOB/Place: January 2nd 1989, Los Angeles
Service Record: United States Marine Corps 3 years (Awarded a Purple Heart) Los Angeles Police Department 5 years, FBI Hostage Rescue Team 4 years



Appearance:


When not on duty Bly tends to wear outfits that most would describe as "grunge", finding herself at home in worn flannel over ragged t-shirts, worn jeans and Doc Martens. She rarely covers her head, preferring to let her dyed blue hair show. She's not exactly tall but is noticeably muscular, standing at 5'6" and weighing 164 pounds.

Profile:Bly is friendly and somewhat soft-spoken in person, preferring to negotiate or try and find common ground in arguments than raise her voice above her normal speaking volume. A trait that set her apart from many of her fellow Devil Dogs it nevertheless served her well when serving as a negotiator for the LAPD. She speaks with her hands, gesturing as she talks animatedly about any number of subjects ranging from contemporary art and pop culture to photography and cinema. She's worldly and cultured, spending much of her free time collecting antiques and curios.

During a mission her primary goal is ensuring the welfare of any hostages or civilian bystanders in the area of operations, a by product of the death of her brother and her training as a police officer and HRT member. She places a premium on extreme aggression in an attempt to ensure that the opposition is crushed before they can do more harm. This reflected in her choice of weaponry, huge amounts of heavy ordance for clearing out hostiles and a nonlethal option for when there are civilians in the AO.

Role:Attack/Defense
Bio: Blyskawica Biala was born to family of Polish immigrants to the United States, the second of three children and the first to be born in California. Her childhood was somewhat unremarkable, earning decent grades in elementary and middle school, playing with the family dog (Szalony) and taking part in extracurricular sports such as soccer and softball. Her nickname was given to her by a friend that found "Blyskawica" completely unpronounceable. When shown how it was spelled this young acquaintance decided to refer to her simply as "Bly" and the name stuck.

By the time she was fourteen Bly had decided on her career: she was going to be a photographer. A family friend ran a studio in the heart of Los Angeles and she spent much of her free time there, devoting hours and days to learning about lighting and how to develop her own photos. The young girl had a knack for it, winning multiple competitions and was dead set on studying photography in college until her brother died.

Piotr was running errands and decided to take his little sister with him, the pair patiently waiting in line at a the jewelry store to pick out a necklace for his fiancee when it was robbed. Three masked stormed in, firing guns in the air and demanding that the safes be opened. Police were called and there was a tense three hour stand-off, neither side willing to back down. Bly and Piotr spent the time huddled in a corner, the brother whispering to his sister that everything was going to be okay.

By the end of the third hour the gunmen were clearly nervous, arguing in hushed tones among themselves and brandishing their weapons as they screamed at hostages. A mistake was bound to be made at some point and it took the form of the one of the masked robber's pistols going on accidentally. In an instant the shooting started, windows and drywall being shattered as the police unloaded a hail of lead into the store, the bandits firing back. In less than twenty seconds it was all over. The casualties included the three gunmen, two officers and one hostage: Piotr.

And just like that, Bly's life had changed for the worse. She didn't talk for more than a year after the incident, no longer showing interest in photography or sports or anything besides staying in her room. There was nothing for her anymore, her brother had been cut down by a stray bullet and she wished it had been her instead. But one can't grieve forever and she eventually recovered, albeit now lacking the will to apply herself in school. She barely managed to pass high school and was looking at minimum wage jobs near here when she saw an ad for the United States Marines. On a whim she decided to visit a recruiting office and signed up for active duty. Her parents found out about the decision when she was on her way to Camp Pendleton.

She excelled in boot camp, finding that she enjoyed the rigorous training and daily routines. She passed through basic training and was shipped off to Afghanistan to serve in active duty. The first two tours of duty passed without major incident but on the third she caught a piece of flak from an IED, earning herself a Purple Heart in the process. While not life threatening it made her rethink her decisions. Why was she fighting in the middle of a desert when people back home needed her help? When the time for re-enlistment came she didn't sign the papers, catching a plane back to California and joining the LAPD.

Bly was a good cop, following the book and training herself in preparation for her real goal: the SWAT team. After five years as a beat cop she got the job, receiving training in negotiation and serving multiple high risk warrants. Her track record attracted the attention of the FBI's prestigious Hostage Rescue Team where she served for four years until being inducted into Rainbow.





Appearance:


Name: "Amaterasu"
Age: Unknown

Nationality:Unknown
Noble Arm Name & Appearance:

And



Noble Arm Abilities: Funeral Pyre:Using the sword form of her Noble Arm Amaterasu can cause a sudden burst of heat in a 50 foot diameter around her. Temperatures can reach past 2500°F, hot enough to melt steel. This attack leaves weapons inoperable and flesh literally melting off of bones.

Beam of Light: The spear form of her weapon can project a thin ray of intense light at a target, incinerating any object living or otherwise smaller than a house. Structures bigger than that will receive catastrophic damage and often crumble moments later due to support structures suddenly disintegrating.

Heat Death: Her most dangerous attack by far, Amaterasu can use either form of her Noble Arm to unleash an explosion of pure heat. Her body glows with heat (estimated at 5,000 K or so, not much less than the surface of the sun)before literally crumbling to ash. Anything with 22 miles of her will be instantly vaporized, past that buildings will catch fire and the water in living things bodies will boil until they burst up to a range of 200 miles away. Outside that living creatures will be susceptible to heat exhaustion and at risk of death by dehydration. Many that witness the event from a "safe" distance will be blinded. It's a combination of her other abilities except on a much larger scale.

Faster Than Light: Amaterasu can melt into a blur of light that moves faster than the eye can see for up to a minute. For long distance travel she can hit roughly 300 miles an hour. She has reflexes faster than any person recorded, having once been recorded catching two bullets fired from two feet away from her.

Personality:Amaterasu is loud, dangerous and incredibly violent. According to intelligence her nickname in the Hammer of Masters is "the Dragon" and it's easy to see why. Known for her attacks on banks and government buildings she has a penchant for taking hostages. Those without a Noble Arm are subjected to all manner of physical, mental and sexual abuse while in her grasp but Arms Users are treated quite well and often released to safety (unsurprising considering who she works for.) When given the chance she likes to toy with her victims before killing them, leaving the charred and mangled corpses of known Disablers or the Organization of Disarmament members on their family's doorsteps or hanging from lamposts. Recently she's taken a liking to the so-called "Colombian Necktie", multiple bodies being found with their throats slit and tongues pulled through the wounds in the aftermath of her attacks.

While presumed to be an adult Amaterasu acts and talks like a girl much younger than her. She's only ever been seen in a schoolgirl's uniform and her mask, tugging on the ribbons in her hair while giggling cutely. This makes that much more horrifying to witness when she snaps into one of her violent rages seemingly at random. It theorized she feels some sort of thrill from violent acts due to witness reports. She's been described as "shuddering, laughing uncontrollably, giggling to herself while rocking back and forth, and whispering gentle words into the poor bastard's ear while she did it." Other survivors have claimed that she's overcome by a sort of sexual high when committing such heinous acts. Whether it's a sexual thrill or no, she certainly enjoys it.

*Likes: Unknown

*Dislikes: Unknown

Fears:Unknown

Bio: Nothing is known about her origins. Amaterasu and her brother simply appeared to the world alongside their leader one day, fully formed and ready to kill.

*Current Goal: Cause havoc, make the world fear her.

Military Rank:

*Optional



Appearance:


Name: "Amaterasu"
Age: Unknown

Nationality:Unknown
Noble Arm Name & Appearance:

And



Noble Arm Abilities: Funeral Pyre:Using the sword form of her Noble Arm Amaterasu can cause a sudden burst of heat in a 50 foot diameter around her. Temperatures can reach past 2500°F, hot enough to melt steel. This attack leaves weapons inoperable and flesh literally melting off of bones.

Beam of Light: The spear form of her weapon can project a thin ray of intense light at a target, incinerating any object living or otherwise smaller than a house. Structures bigger than that will receive catastrophic damage and often crumble moments later due to support structures suddenly disintegrating.

Heat Death: Her most dangerous attack by far, Amaterasu can use either form of her Noble Arm to unleash an explosion of pure heat. Her body glows with heat (estimated at 5,000 K or so, not much less than the surface of the sun)before literally crumbling to ash. Anything with 22 miles of her will be instantly vaporized, past that buildings will catch fire and the water in living things bodies will boil until they burst up to a range of 200 miles away. Outside that living creatures will be susceptible to heat exhaustion and at risk of death by dehydration. Many that witness the event from a "safe" distance will be blinded. It's a combination of her other abilities except on a much larger scale.

Personality:Amaterasu is loud, dangerous and incredibly violent. According to intelligence her nickname in the Hammer of Masters is "the Dragon" and it's easy to see why. Known for her attacks on banks and government buildings she has a penchant for taking hostages. Those without a Noble Arm are subjected to all manner of physical, mental and sexual abuse while in her grasp but Arms Users are treated quite well and often released to safety (unsurprising considering who she works for.) When given the chance she likes to toy with her victims before killing them, leaving the charred and mangled corpses of known Disablers or the Organization of Disarmament members on their family's doorsteps or hanging from lamposts. Recently she's taken a liking to the so-called "Colombian Necktie", multiple bodies being found with their throats slit and tongues pulled through the wounds in the aftermath of her attacks.

While presumed to be an adult Amaterasu acts and talks like a girl much younger than her. She's only ever been seen in a schoolgirl's uniform and her mask, tugging on the ribbons in her hair while giggling cutely. This makes that much more horrifying to witness when she snaps into one of her violent rages seemingly at random. It theorized she feels some sort of thrill from violent acts due to witness reports. She's been described as "shuddering, laughing uncontrollably, giggling to herself while rocking back and forth, and whispering gentle words into the poor bastard's ear while she did it." Other survivors have claimed that she's overcome by a sort of sexual high when committing such heinous acts. Whether it's a sexual thrill or no, she certainly enjoys it.

*Likes: Unknown

*Dislikes: Unknown

Fears:Unknown

Bio: Nothing is known about her origins. Amaterasu and her brother simply appeared to the world alongside their leader one day, fully formed and ready to kill.

*Current Goal: Cause havoc, make the world fear her.

Military Rank:

*Optional



@Bob The GruntAccepted!

@Stern AlgorithmA ranked characters aren’t allowed. Change the rank of your Arm to B and lower the amount of revives to two please.
Victoria didn't have time to stop and make sure her demeanor was prim and proper enough to suit her commanding officer. If he wanted all to get all riled up because her words were a bit brusque and her actions seemingly callous that was on him. She had grown up surrounded by the rats and had learned from them. They were vicious little pests, hated by all and living in a world that wanted to be rid of them, but they didn't care. The rats were the perfect survivors, capable of digging through garbage to find food and tunneling through rotting wood structures to make homes for their babies. They made nests of filth to hide from the monstrous cats that hunted them every step of the way. A species hated by civilized society, they grew their claws long and their teeth sharp to rip apart and devour their enemies. The young girl could remember hearing stories about how smugglers and bandits would tie someone up and press a metal bucket with a rat inside to the victim's belly. The bottom of the bucket was heated with a torch of some kind and the rat would panicked, tearing through the unfortunate soul's guts without a care for their well-being.

It was a philosophy she respected. There was nothing Victoria wanted more than to see that her daughter and her comrades were safe. She had only known Diana for a night but already her heart swelled at the thought of her. Luke was an arrogant piece of shit with seemingly few redeeming qualities, but she had been the exact same way at that stage in her life. She wanted to ensure that Diana found someone to care for her and that Luke managed to get a hold of his actions before retiring to raise her baby. But when in danger or under fire she couldn't afford to think about anyone else but herself. The rats knew that, always the first ones out of burning buildings or sinking ships. Civilized people would stay to assist others. But Victoria was a long way from civilization. If the splintered spires that towered above grew fractured, and the city became their jungle, then it was furthest from civilization where the rules did not apply. Here, it was the rats who prevailed. Focusing on what others thought of her would just get her killed. If she died she wouldn't be able to care for anyone. So Victoria did what she best, squashing all the fear and worry she was feeling down into the depths of her souls as she shouted and kicked in doors. The frightened, hunched over young mother who had crossed the world to feed her daughter was replaced by a snarling beast who stood ramrod straight, towering over friend and foe alike as she prepared for blood.

The monster bared her teeth in a horrible smile, the expressionless skull of a mask hiding the way her scarred face expressed hatred of her fellow man. Victoria wanted to curl up into in a little ball in the corner and cry, but Victoria had been replaced by something else. A creature devoted only to survival, tearing its way through anyone and anything in her way: a rat. The rat was only calling for everyone to flee because if most of her allies survived it would benefit it here later. Rats traveled in packs after all. Her boots stomped heavily against the squeaky wooden stairs, butt of her carbine scraping away grime from the walls as she affixed her bayonet and checked her bandoleers. She had her ammo and grenades, what else could she possibly require? The blade was sharp and clean, readied to bloodied. She had enough ammunition to hold off a brigade, and enough ragnite packed into her bombs to take herself out if the Imperial bastards surrounded her. She knew what young men and women with adrenaline coursing through their veins were capable of doing to their foes, had seen it back home. Beaten and raped like a bitch in head surrounded by starving wolves? Not her. She would die and take the fuckers with her before that happened.

She could hear horrible choked, gurgling as she walked down the rickety stairs into the mouth of hell. People were dying, the cute little barmaid she had hit on the previous night bleeding from her mouth and nose as vomit pooled between her lips. The wretched girl was dead, no doubt about it. The Rat didn't waste a bullet, instead creeping along the wall through the vision obscuring gas. She could only seen vague blurs of movement outside the windows, ghostly figures running and shouting and shooting and dying. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe or even just civilians caught in the carnage, so she ignored them. No reason to interfere with her fellow rats scrambling for survival.

And then suddenly one of the other vermin charged her, an Imperial rat with blood caked and cracked lips howling in violent desperation. The Oceanic digger was knocked to the floor by the sudden burst of power, her enemy no doubt fueled by a dying frenzy. They fell in a tangle of limbs, grasping for blades and triggers that were knocked away by the ball of snarling hatred. Her carbine ripped from her hands the female rat could only swat away the male's grasping claws that scratched and tore at the straps of her mask. "Give it to me!" the poor bastard screamed, his voice hoarse from the gas. "I need your mask!" Had Victoria been the one the one in charge she might have covered his face wither her coat and tried to lead him to safety. This was a war sure, but no one deserved to die like that. But Victoria wasn't in charge anymore. The Rat was.

"Fuck off." she snarled, growling the cold command as she seized his searching hands. A couple of quick twists and his pinky and ring fingers were shattered. The Imperial screamed like a stuck pig as he was bucked off, the feral rodent scrambling to her feet and scooping up her gun. Her opponent wrapped his his arms around her legs and tried to bite her, earning himself a swift stomp to the side of his face. The Rat tore her leg free and raised the butt of her rifle into the air. The Imperial knew what was coming and raised his arms to shield himself but it did nothing. The heavy wood club was brought down his skull, splitting it with a splatter of blood. The Rat lifted her weapon again as she began to repeat the process, obliterating the man's ribs and face as she swung and swung. Each swing was followed by an even harder one, her blue uniform getting splattered with warm sprays of blood and shards of bone. She screamed as she erased another living, thinking individual from the world, a single draw out war-cry that dared anyone stupid enough to challenge her to step forward and meet their end in the same unglamourous way as the dead man who was pressed into the floor.

POTENTIAL ACTIVATED: BERSERK

Eventually she stopped. It had felt good to get into another fight, to be able to empty all that pent up tension and convert it into the power to kill, but she couldn't stick around. The Rat masquerading as Victoria White quickly made her way to the group of her allies outside, picking away a stray tooth that had lodged itself in her rifle butt. "Who else is left?" she asked taking a step towards Diana as if to protect her from the monsters closing in on all sides. A hand scooped her rabbit felt hat off her head and tried to ineffectually brush away the mess coating the cape wrapped around her front.


Tagging for later
Victoria crossed her arms and spat on the ground as she concluded her story, ambivalent about having shared it. She felt no shame in her actions, no remorse. She was a product of her environment, had grown up drunken and violent to survive in a world where seemingly everything wanted her dead or at least broken. Her only regret was having fallen for Charles's bullshit. She had been so stupid, getting sucked in by his sweet talk and promises of a better life. By the time she realized nothing had changed he had already disappeared and left her with a child to care for and nothing to lose. But it was still a heavier story than was usually shared between people who had only known each other for less than a day. Hopefully Luke wouldn't be scared off, or if he was he'd remember her lesson. The more people she could keep from following her the better it would be. Already she was starting the see her new squad as her kids, another bunch of little ones to steer away from her lifestyle of scrounging in mud and darkness.

"Don't feel bad for me, mate. the washed up 18 year old muttered stoically. "I did what I had to do to survive, we all do. Your path to survival is different than mine, always remember that. Bright young stud like you could land himself a proper job and a good-looking old lady!" she said with a smile. She was glad that his standoffish attitude had softened as he had eased up. "Just lay off Diana, yeah? She's a good girl, she doesn't deserve to be treated like shit. Save that for officers." Her small smile melted away when Luke mentioned his "mommy issues", gesturing for him to tell his story. She listened intently, her only interruptions small coughs or muttered curses. She had thought her parents were bad when they tossed her out, at least they had never tried to strangle her to death. There was really nothing she could say, no cheery words or bullshit phrases to spout meaninglessly. How were you supposed to respond to a story about a boy fighting off his deranged mother months after losing his father?

"Shit." she finally managed to eke out, really only to try and break the awkward silence that filled the air after Luke told his tale. He was even more similar to her than she thought, at least when it came to the reasons they had choosen this line of work. "As soon as this war is over, you're leaving the army." she stated flatly, making it clear that it was an order, not a suggestion. "You can consider me a new mother, 'n' I'm going to be making sure that you do what's best for you. The military is good only for murderous thugs 'n' losers that can't make it anywhere else. We are not your kind of people, clear?"

Vicky idly straightened out Luke's uniform as she gave her command, fussing over him like a parent with their child. When he offered to help her settle into his hometown after the war she beamed happily, already imagining herself watching little Elizabeth grow and play somewhere that wasn't a dusty dead end. "A damned tempting offer, I have to admit. i'll think on it, 'n' i appreciate it either way. even if i don't move in i'll visit, just so I can kick your ass at drinking again!" Almost as soon as the words left her mouth the Oceanic wrapped the smaller male in a tight hug, holding him silently for a moment before letting go. "You stay out of trouble now, understand?"

LATER

When Jean had informed the squad that they wouldn't be drinking that night she had grumbled quietly to herself, reluctantly putting away her flask. If the Inn staff weren't going to serve her anymore it might be a while until she got a refill so she would have to ration it. The order to sleep in her gear met no resistance however. If they were supposed to be moving out soon it was just good sense to be ready. She went to bed early and woke up before her superior officer, idly munching on a piece of toast as she waited for orders. By now her trademark bandoleers were wrapped around her body again, empty carbine propped up against the table. Leaning back in her seat she let her gaze drift out the window. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of something soaring through the air, legs tensing as she prepared to throw herself under the table to hide from the rain of shrapnel that was surely coming. She wasn't exactly looking for yet more scars. But something was off. She could hear the distant thump of the artillery, but none of the shells seemed to be going off.

Quick as lightning the Oceanic sprinted out in the gray morning light, standing next to Jean and some girl who she didn't recognize. She opened her mouth ask an obvious question but was silenced by a hellish whistling, a horrible, piercing sound that made her like her bones were being grated against each other by some unholy creature. The shell had landed mere feet from them, Victoria getting blasted back into a table and set of chairs with a burst of violent swearing. She grunted as she lifted herself from the ground, covering her mouth and nose with her floppy brimmed hat to try and block some of the choking dust. She was bruised and sore, but not dead. That was a positive. "Fucking things a dud! Someone out there likes us." she said with a nervous chuckle. Her gratitude for the good fortune faded as she followed the Corporal's gaze to the "dud" shell, noticing it's weird shape and the warnings of poison on it. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, Victoria loading her rifle almost unconsciously. There was knot of foreboding and fear in her gut, the same one that had been there when she saw the armored car for the first time. War had changed, again. Now it was just a question of how.

The gas escaped it's metal prison and crept towards them, Victoria standing frozen in fear for a moment until years of experience hunting rats for food and fighting for survival kicked in. The mask hanging next to her bag was hastily slammed down over her face, guessing it's purpose. Jean had seemed to figure it out as well, but the poor civilian was beyond saving. Victoria watched her choke on the airborne toxin and fall, twitching and vomiting. She shook and trembled as if fighting off possession by some malevolent spirit until her soul finally ebbed out of existence. Victoria stared transfixed at the staff member, only to be broken from her trance by the woman giving out another twitch. Was she dead, or was there still some bit of life left in her? It didn't matter. If she was still alive, she was surely wishing she wasn't.

Vicky stepped forward and placed the barrel of her rifle against the girl's head, finger on the trigger. She remembered how when she was a girl she had earned a few pennies helping out on a horse farm, shoveling manure and feeding them hay. One day a colt had tripped and broken it's leg. She had watched it whinny and bray out for it's mother as the rancher approached with his shotgun. She could remember the creature screaming and kicking out as it's master took aim, as if it knew what was coming and was begging to be allowed to try and make a go of things with only three limbs. But the man with the gun knew best, and Victoria was given a meal of stewed horse-flesh that night.

Now it was her turn to extend mercy to a mortally injured creature, her turn to take aim and make sure the bullet traveled straight through. A pull of the trigger and the sound exploded in her ears as the round exploded out the back of the grateful corpse's skull, more blood and brain matter pooling with the filth Catherine had spat up in a puddle of waste. Victoria nearly slipped in it as she sprinted after Jean, leaving a boot-print with each step before jumping straight through the broken window. "EVERYONE LISTEN TO JEAN!" she roared, the yell muffled by the life-saving mask. "PUT YOUR FUCKING MASKS ON IF YOU PLAN ON LIVING PAST TODAY." She was struggling to keep from trembling and breaking down in front of everyone. The Corporal seemed like he was on the verge of doing just that, and at least one of them needed to be in command of their emotions. "Hey, buck the fuck up!" she snarled at the Darscen in a tone that was certainly unsuited for a superior officer but perfect for keeping him grounded like Marathon had asked. The Oceanic smacked the back of the Francian's head to make sure he was listening. Better she get punished for that later than the leader of the squad die now. "I'm gonna round everyone up. I hope you have some good orders for us when we're all back!"

The girl was up the stairs almost faster than her mind could register, kicking open doors at random and shouting the same command every time. "Put your damn masks on and meet Jean downstairs!" Her father had always said that when in crisis one should work to keep themselves in control. Well, now was certainly a crisis and the Squad Mom was working to make sure her children made it out alive.

@LetMeDoStuff @Jacky

© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet