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after they've been purified, they'll be reincarnated into a new body somewhere in the universe, and then you can obviously no longer converse with them since they're alive again.

Now, that's how it normally works. But if a person has "unfinished business", or something that strong ties them to the world, they can continue to linger on as a spirit. I imagine that's what happened with your character's witch friend.


Without the incarnation, this is largely what I had assumed, it's good to know the varying time limits, could make things interesting. I'll mention something about the constriction in the CS, is there anything else about it that needs changing?
Excuse me while I show up unannounced and swipe @MsMorningstar's format at the same time.

The Runaways, Issue 1 : Tyrone I
Wholesale District - LA 02:20



"Everyone okay?" Just the sound of Tandy’s voice brought Tyrone a wave of relief. He spared a quick glance at her to ensure she was in one piece before joining her frantic search through the mess they'd made for the other two. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

"Why were there so many? Any of them conscious enough to question?" Eddie landed in front of him, surveying the fires he had stared, then the starless-sky. “It was supposed to be raining by now.”

Tyrone shrugged. “You seen the kid?”

“She was going to deal with the other truck.”

As though on cue, a slow, but steady grinding noise began to come from the direction Eddie had pointed to. Tyrone didn’t need to look to know Tandy was at his shoulder, light blade in hand. The kid appeared from behind the tuck, dragging one of the bodies behind her with little effort. Tyrone was never really sure weather to be impressed with her, or afraid. It took a few moments for her to get close enough for the group to realize it wasn’t one of the thug’s she was pulling.

"What is it?" Tandy leaned between the two boys, offering an orb of light to let everyone get a better veiw.

“It looks like… a kid?” muttered Eddie. It was a kid. Tyrone’s eyes immediately did another sweep of the bodies around them, but no, there had only been grown men in the fight. More than was normal for trafficking. He hated that he knew that.

The kid was tied, Tyrone noticed as he was brought closer to Tandy’s light. The girl dropped his arms two feet in front of her companions and unceremoniously ripped the tape off his mouth. His eyes flew open, and a string of curses loud enough to rival the earlier fight filled the alley.

Tandy was the first to speak after the echoes subsided. "Who are you?" It took a minute for the boy to register her words, he was rubbing where the tape had been with bound hands.

"Wha-? Chase Stein." He paused as though that should have been enough for them. Tyrone looked to Tandy, who shook her head slightly, then Eddie who shrugged, the all returned their gaze to newcomer.

"You deal with Simon Marshall?" The kid hesitated, and Tandy charged him, the light that had lit the alley came to a focus on the boy’s throat.

Tyrone followed her forward "Tandy!" He had to forcefully pull her away. "What the hell? We’re here to help.”

"We didn't see what was in the other truck.” She shrugged his hand off, and was glaring at him. "He was here, the only one left here and he's still alive. He knows something."

Tyrone’s own heart skipped a beat. "Were there other kids?” He asked.

“Who the fuck are you people?” The poor kid was staring at both Tandy and Eddie in turn and looked equal parts terrified and confused. This kid wasn’t some great conspirator. Not that Tandy was so easily swayed.

“Answer the question”

"What?"

“Where are the other kids?” Tyrone held her wrist, not entirely certain she wasn’t going to lunge again. What was with her? She was always the one picking up any stray that landed at their feet.

"Kids? There were no kids, they were making a weapons deal- look I didn't have anything to do with it, I swear."

“He’s in as much shit as the rest of us.” Eddie said with a pitting smile. Tyrone nodded. The silent girl standing next to Chase crouched down and began undoing his bonds.

“You’re all really just going to trust him like that?”

“We did for them.” Tyrone felt comfortable letting go of Tandy’s wrist to gesture to the devil and mute of their crew.

“Besides,” Eddie pitched in “we can’t stick around here forever, the cops are bound to be on their way here by now.”
Tyrone looked at the four people surrounding him and considered his remaining stamina. He’d taken groups of six before, but those had been little kids, and even sitting it wasn’t hard to see the new kid was at least matched him in size. "Don't think I can take all of us."

“I can fly back.” Eddie offered. Tandy threw her arms into the air and turned from the group, making her way back to examine the small stack of remaining crates.

"Don’t think that’s the best idea Red.” Tyrone said as gently as possible while awkwardly gesturing to his tail, horns, and well, entire body. “We don’t know if there’s anyone left to follow us.”

“Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Chase finally spoke up, and began to bring himself to his feet, wobbled for a moment then found his footing well enough to give Tyrone an indignant glare.

“Right, sorry. I’m Tyrone, that was Tandy, this is Eddie. We’re going to take you home with us.” He hesitated. “Unless you have another home to go to.” He’d gotten used to finding kids with nothing.

Chase stared at him blankly and slowly began to shake his head. “Why should I be going with you?”

Tyrone gave what he hoped was a comforting smile – seriously why wasn’t Tandy doing this part? “We can get you out of here fast, and maybe help with some of your other problems. Or maybe you can help by telling us what was going on here tonight.”

“Alright” he said after a moment. “Just let me get my things.”

Tyrone shrugged, and the kid went sprinting back to the truck. Suddenly his stomach dropped, he’d never hear the end of it if the one time he’d been the trusting one the kid had cut loose and ran back to a gang or something.

Tandy returned to them, a large object tucked between her arm and hip. “Well he’s not a complete liar at least.” She presented the thing to the group. “No idea what it does though.”

The supposed weapon didn’t look like much, sleek and black with no visible seems. Almost a rectangle with curved corners and a convex top.

“I’ll take a look at it back home.” Eddie said, though he was already reaching for whatever it was to examine more closely.

“Where’d the other girl go?” Chase had returned, this time with a pack slung over one shoulder.

“Headed back on her own I guess.” Tandy muttered, still looking at the weapon and not him. “She’ll fair better on her own then you did don’t worry.”

“We should be going too, before anyone shows up.” Tyrone reminded, before any note could be made on Tandy’s tone.

“How far is it?”

Tandy laughed, Tyrone grimaced, and Eddie took the boy’s elbow. “I suggesting thinking of something warm.”
The Runaways, Issue 1 : Chase I
Wholesale District - LA 02:06


Admittedly, Chase wasn't an expert on the whole superhero gig. But even his tenuous grasp on the subject told him being tied up and getting a stern talking-to about being sent back to your parents wasn't a stellar start to the career.

"Sure we should be letting him see this?"

"Nothing he hasn't already seen. Knows more than we do I bet." The two minder’s Chase had dubbed jackass and idiot, seemed just about as tired of him as he was with them.

"Should'a had him help unload then" Jackass grumbled as he began to roll a fourth cigarette. His name has been earned for punching Chase in the jaw. Idiot was idiot for letting him when he knew it was his employer's son his partner was hitting. Maybe that made him less stupid in the end.

"This is taking too long"

Chase nodded in silent agreement, fear has passed to boredom about an hour after they’d met up with a second group over an hour earlier, and he'd had a long day. Of course, the end of the night meant going home to dear ol’ mom and pop, whom he doubted would be holding a banner welcome. Best case scenario, they’d play it cool again and send someone else to do the dirty deed. More likely his father would just kill him. The former plan hadn't worked last time, and if there was one thing the Stien's were good for it was learning. Or so he'd been told, maybe that gene skipped every generation or something. There wasn’t much for Chase to do other than rub his wrists raw against his restraints, and every so often he catch himself craning for a better look at the action happening on the opposite end of the alley. Sure, he'd seen what was in the crates already, but he'd been a little more preoccupied with getting the stuff out so he could get in before anyone found him. As well as that plan had worked out.

Light broke through his thoughts self-pity before any noise. Fire and light cutting straight through the two groups 20 feet away. But distance didn't stop Chase from jumping to his feet in a panic - onto tied feet, which left him face flat on the pavement. That was when the noises began to register. Mostly shouting.

"Get the van!"

"They fuck us over?"

"Cops?!"

"It's those fucking kids!"

"Guess it's two for one night, lucky us!"

That last one was incredibly out of place. Young, and-happy? Chase twisted on the ground and with great effort managed to lift his head. His eyes still only level with the ground, it was hard to see much anything other than the fires, burning much closer than was comfortable. The other gang’s truck had started, had they even finished loading? So much for honor among thieves. Or criminals at least. His minder’s came out of their own shock and appeared to remembered his existence.

"I got the kid, let’s get out of here."

A pair of boots blocked Chase’s view and a hard grip dragged him up by the collar. His pride and favourite shirt ruined in the same night. The hit to the head obviously left him dazed. No sooner was on he on his feet, then the grip was gone and he was falling again, backwards this time. The back of his head hit the pavement, and the world instantly began to blur, but he could have sworn there was a kid standing over him just before it went black.
Sample post added. Sorry for the wait.
Just looking for feedback on concepts before diving into actual writing.
M A U R O



The sort of people that visited down-town area such as the Chateau Rouge rarely crossed over with those that visited Mauro's clinic. That didn't stop others from feeling the effects of the explosion, mere hours after it happened; emergency services were all but completely occupied, and emergency rooms in the real hospitals quickly reached capacity. Normal people who would never deign to come so far as the under-city were banging on the gated entrance to St. Benedetta's.

Mauro was blissfully unaware of the panic happening outside of his doors until being woken by a sharp poke below the ribs. He's fallen asleep leaning against a wall in the clinic, hardly a rare occurrence; no time was every really any calmer than another, and it kept more beds open. He blinked to try and wake himself more rapidly, but still had to ask Maria to repeat herself once away of her presence to his left.

"No time for naps. World needs saving." She handed him a battered clipboard which he glanced over, still barely able to register the few notes she'd written down.

"Weren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"I'm not the one passing out in the open. Not that either of us can afford beauty sleep right now, it's a madhouse out there."

"Something happen?" Mauro checked his pockets to make sure a wandering patient hadn't picked them, before walking towards the so called 'lobby' of the clinic, suddenly anxious. The entire city was on the brink, they'd been waiting for the final tip in the scales for days, it would be just like him to fall asleep while it happened.

"Dunno. I didn't hear anything." After the fifth radio they'd placed in the clinic had been stolen, they'd always been a bit behind with the city events, getting news from patients; an unreliable system at best. They reached the lobby filled with some of the most desperate residence of Santa Celia. Too many. On a weekend night they often had over ten people waiting. There were over thirty.

"Why are so many covered in blood?"

"Not blood. Rain. Really the city that keeps on giving"

Mauro shook his head. A problem for later, but definitely one worth looking into. He handed the clipboard back to Maria "You can handle stitches, and I'll help your reset the woman's broken bone when you're done." Maria didn't argue and disappeared to the back as Mauro opened the gate holding back the crowd. Half a dozen were screaming and waving for attention, those Mauro ignored. If they were well enough to be doing that, they didn't need his help. He took only two steps out in order to reach for a man purple in the face, swaying on his feet with unfocused eyes. People made room enough for him to be dragged through the crowds and into the clinic proper; it was well known enough that forcing your way in meant losing any chance of being treated.

The gate locked behind them as Mauro felt around the man's head and neck. Hyoid fracture, a few days old, but it'd been knocked around a bit and was causing issues with breathing. The man tried to say something unintelligible before slumping against the wall. Mauro wrapped the stranger's arm around his own shoulders and half walked, half dragged him down the hall. Everything else seemed stable, but lying down would make it worse. He'd need a tracheotomy while he tried to get everything back in place. There wasn't a place in the entire under-city that was sterile enough for such a procedure, never-mind that he had no way of making the man unconscious for it.

When Maria found him again, Mauro had given up suturing the temporary hole he made, and was bandaging the now unconscious man's neck tightly enough he was having nearly the same amount of difficult breathing as before; all while clutching his lower abdomen.

"Got a fighter did ya?" Mauro only grunted in response, motioning her over with his head, while he stepped back and tried to take a deep breath while pressing against the old scar the bastard had kneed him in.

"Still got a clean cut though" Maria complimented, as she tried her own hand at stitching the wound.

"Not that he seemed to appreciate it."

"Oh you're just going to open-fracture bitch then."

"You didn't mention it was open."

"She wouldn't let me cut off her jeans before. Still didn't let me to be honest but she was screaming bloody murder either way."

"Don't have enough resources to deal with infection, or time to be picking pieces of bone out."

Mauro sighed closed his eyes while Maria finished her work in silence. Losing a leg was never an ideal situation, worse still for the people that came to him. Whoever it was in the other room wasn't likely to have the option of getting a prosthetic.

"Not falling sleep on me again are you?"

"No just- get something to put the fracture woman out." He reached for a poorly sewn inner pocket in his shirt to hand her a keycard that would grant access to the poorly dubbed 'pharmacy'. Antibiotics were always in low supply, but there were always confiscated opioids to spare. "She's going to lose the leg, should probably warn her of that. I'm going to find some coffee and make sure they're not about to burn the place down out there."

"Already got one made, check my room." She left him alone with the patient again, who appeared to be resting normally, despite the fresh bandages around his neck and the make-shift brace. Mauro touched the man's wrist one more time before leaving, making sure to lock the room behind him.
M E N D E R
"I don't aim to be decent; only better than the man I was yesterday."



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Mauro Angelo Bianchi
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May 18th, 1976 | 42 | Italian immigrant
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Single || Homosexual
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Education NYU Medical Graduate | Surgeon
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Physical Profile

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Miscellaneous Items
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Appearance Details
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Mauro is something of a shadow of the man he once was or could be. His once muscular build has shrunk and turned gaunt after years of alcoholism while more recent times of over-working and exhaustion have further contributed to making him look older still than his true middle age. Still his face is that of a handsome man; if someone is able to look past his unkempt grooming and rather sunken eyes.

He has no discernible fashion, most of his clothes while clean are riddled with tears and old stains meant much more for function and frugality than form. A hunched posture paired with already underwhelming height often leading the few people to take notice of him in a crowd to assume an underwhelming man in both physical competence and character.

Personality
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Only someone completely stupid with altruism would open a free clinic in the bowls of Santa Celia's ghetto, just plain stupid if they had open doors for all. Mauro however is neither. He carries a heavy conscience, and does his charity work to feel better about himself rather than the world; which he holds in a rather low regard. There is no underlying hope for justice, or any real cause he dedicates himself to; but if he is able to offer something to help those suffering around him, why wouldn't he?

Few are close enough to Mauro to see the workings of his personality; he doesn't have time to make new friends, and is paranoid around most strangers. Even to the handful of people he is familiar with he remains distant and distracted, too often pessimistic and slow to smile. The brass exuberance that use to dictate his actions has been completely exchanged for a sour demeanor. He considers himself pragmatic but never to the point of nihilism, and holds a quiet hope for redemption in his own eyes however unrealistic it seems.
Character Synopsis
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Mauro's family immigrated to America in 1988. A run of misfortune saw them all but desitiute, and Mauro's father sought the aid of his cousin's who had begun landscaping business in suburban New Jersey thirty years prior. He suffered a heart attack two years after his arrival. Mauro and his mother were left to the good will of distant relatives and the small Italian-American community that had formed around them. They got by in the end, Mauro spending all his after school hours on menial jobs with his relative's company; where his talent with machines presented itself. It was such a natural thing to Mauro himself, he'd never considered it a gift, and while it was appreciated by his employers it was largely unacknowledged until he went to university.

Lacking funds, but desperate to please his mother who still clutched to her American dream, Mauro signed on with the military to pay for his college tuition for an eight year medical program at NYU. At school and away from working every evening his abilities became even more pronounced to those around him, and so he completed his degree a year early before beginning his residency with the American army where he met Kyle Harper.

Harper and Mauro grew very close during their deployments, and together took full advantage of the relatively new 'don't ask don't tell' policy as well as Mauro's access to the med-center's pharmacy. So Mauro continued his service after completing his due years until 2008 when both he and Harper where found with oxycodones.

The discovery of an affair with a lieutenant may have been overlooked for a time, but the drugs were not. Mauro returned to America in disgrace to a sickly mother. Unable to explain why no hospital or clinic would hire him, Mauro moved his mother south to the warmer Santa Celia, unable to afford sending her home to Italy as she wanted. Without work, his time was largely spent partying between suffering stifling disappointment from his mother, who died less than a year after their move. Without any real friends in the city, Mauro continued to spiral downwards until he woke up in Stadler's Medical Hospital, being treated for a stab wound by an old friend.

Don Malcom and his wife took it upon themselves to help their once promising classmate, but even their recommendations couldn't fix his name. Sober for the first time in nearly a decade, Mauro saw his life clearly for what it was and nearly turned back to drugs to out of shame. Instead he moved to the more derelict side of Santa Celia, and under the city in it's forgotten sewers and rail systems he found people in the position he'd been in, and offered them help.

Eventually word spread and the demand for a free doctor who didn't ask questions grew enough that Mauro earned his own small nook in the city's underbelly. He called his clinic St. Benedetta for his mother and spent the next four years securing and improving the space and in turn, his position in the city.

Abilities & Skills
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//Abiliites:
Mechanical Savant | Mauro understands the workings of any complex system he comes into contact with, be it biological, mechanical, or even chemical. While the information he gleans is primarily useful in his knowing how to operate or manipulate any machine in the world, he also is able to instantly identify any malfunctions and have the most practical solution to repair them.

Limitation(s) | The knowledge Mauro gains isn't magical in itself, he cannot bring back the dead or any mechanism that is beyond repair. In addition he can't create anything himself, unless given extremely detailed instructions or blueprints; he considers himself more of an operator or repairman rather than inventor. He requires all equipment that would normally be needed in any medical treatment or repair. When it comes to understanding human bodies, it comes at its lowest form, he cannot deduce a person's personality or traits simply by using his power and unless the other person's power manifests itself in some physical alteration, he is unable to denote if a person has any super human abilities or what they are. His ability doesn't increase his underlying intelligence.

Weakness(es) | While still in better shape than most men his age, Mauro is past his prime. Constant over exertion paired with years of past drug abuse, and old injuries have left his body more aged than it would otherwise be. He possesses no outright physical powers and while his combat training and experience is more extensive than most a past knife wound to his lower abdomen has left him easily winded and prone to cramping, somewhat hindering his ability to actually put the knowledge to use. His position in Santa Celia itself is a precarious one; having no real affiliation with any of the city's gangs but doing work for all of them due to his 'helping anyone in need' policy. This paired with the fact that few people know the true scope of his abilities could easily land him in some deep water.

//Skills:
Combat Expertise | Military trained in weapons and hand to hand combat, familiar with street fighting tactics from years of homelessness.
Medical Training | Surgical graduate of NYC medical school with a decade of working experience.
Multi-lingual | Fluent in Italian, English, Korean, and German; though the latter two are heavily accented.

Supporting Cast
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Maria Sinclair | Female/22
A volunteer 'nurse' that helps out at the clinic. Once a homeless pregnant teen with a meth habit, Mauro helped her get clean and has allowed her to keep a cot in the back offices in exchange for her help.

Don Malcolm | Male/44
Mauro's only real connection in the legal medical profession, former classmates at NYU. Don works in Santa Celia's Stadler Medical Hospital and frequently bends the rules in order to supply his friend with supplies for his clinic. It was Don who found and saved Mauro at his lowest point, they had an affair for a short time, and though it ended abruptly they remain close as ever.

Desiree Malcolm | Female/43
Don's wife, also a former classmate of Mauro's at NYU, a close friend.

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